#when they’re good they’re great I don’t make the rules

[dujour13]

Ask me about one of my OCs and I’ll list out why they’re problematic.

Presumptuous perhaps but I'm skipping the reblog/ask stage. Also taking inspiration from @arendaes great idea to make this a creative writing project.

---

“Dreamer help me if a time ever comes I’m not. I live to be problematic. In a good way!” He flashes that radiant smile, thinking it'll get him off the hook.

Aivu narrows her eyes. “Sometimes you’re problematic in a bad way. You’re a problem when you forget to bring me treats. And when you’re sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m never sad!”

“You’re also a problem when you don’t tell the truth.” Her dragon lips pinch with reproach.

“Come on, I only lie for good reason.”

“And when you don’t want to get in trouble.”

“That’s a good reason. And so do you, may I remind you.”

“OK but I’m bad at it. You always seem to know. I make my biggest, sweetest baby dragon eyes, just like this—” She bats her long lashes. “—and it never works.”

“Seriously, nobody else could have eaten that cake in one bite.”

“Woljif could.”

“In one bite, no.”

“Hm. Maybe not. Not without leaving crumbs,” she concedes. “But you’re being sneaky again.”

“Me?”

“You’re difficulting. Diftecling. You know, what Arueshalae says.”

“Deflecting?” He lets out a sigh of defeat. “All right, fine. How am I problematic—let me think.

“I’m impulsive. I trust in luck, and that makes me look reckless. Look, it turned out that letting Minagho go helped us out in the end. There wasn't much I could do for her victims. Imprisoning or killing her wouldn’t bring anybody back. Using her to help win the Crusade was the best revenge we could hope for, isn’t it? Like she used Staunton. Or, maybe not that bad, but still. It’s the principle.

“No, I didn’t think I could ‘save’ her. Just tried to turn her against her master. And it worked. Demons are so easy that way.

“I know what you’re implying. The savior complex? The manipulation? Be honest with me: if more people thought the way I do, the world really would be a better place. Case closed, right?” There’s the extremely compelling smile again. You are determined not to let him entirely off the hook, however...

“All right, touché, but rules are for cowards and suckers. And devils. Sometimes, lying, cheating and stealing are the most ethical thing you can do.”

“And if you’re sneaky you don’t get in trouble," adds Aivu helpfully.

“Or if you make big, sweet baby dragon eyes.”

#siavash #pwotr pals

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 31 - The bathroom equation

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 30 -- Part 32

Summary: The guys (and girls) take to the group chats to discuss some serious issues

Warnings: Post contains generalizations. Please don't murder me for that.

Word count: Exactly 3k!!!!

**A/N: **SO! The guys joined me in the shower yesterday (not as sexy as it sounds, unfortunately) and as @geralts-yenn and I had had a discussion about what the house groupchat would look like (including very necessary shadow-group with just the girls, and a group chat with everyone who regularly spends time at that house...) this is what I came up with.

[The guys' chat is 179CS🏡, the girls are 179CS🧠🧠, and the everyone-group is 179CS Full🏡]

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @livisss @sillyrabbit81

@ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos @thelastsock @wa-ni

@proud-aroace-beastie @totalwool

Mike:

Sherlock: Great, she’s asking me what I’m laughing at.

August: If you value your life, don’t show her.

Sherlock: And if she steals his phone and sees it anyway? Xoxo Elena

Marshall: Paramedics or police?

Charles: Both.

August: Both.

Leon: Both.

Marshall: 👍🏻

Sherlock: They’ll never get here in time 😈

Mike: Nice knowing you, buddy ❤️

Elena: Dani, get your man in line.

Dani: What he do?

Elena: [video]

Ange: I mean…

Sol: He’s not… wrong…

Dani: He sent me that 🙊

Lexi: Is he okay?

Dani: Was he okay to begin with? 😂

Ange: Not that we know of…

Sy: Speaking of showers… We need rules.

Mike: Eh, why?

Sy: Because I was late for my date yesterday.

August: Which is our problem… how?

Leon: It’s not.

Charles: 👆🏻

Sy: In a house shared by eight guys there’s no excuse for a line for the bathroom!

Mike: Some of us have ✨girlfriends✨

Mike: You should try it sometime

Sy: 🦆🫵🏻 ❤️

Mike: Aww ❤️

Charles: He has a point, though.

Charles: Don’t appreciate getting yelled at for taking a shit in my own damn bathroom.

August: Not to mention the hair.

Sherlock: I don’t see the problem there? Just ask them to clean the drain when they’re done?

Leon: Spoken like a man who has never once in his life watched a woman clean a shower drain…

August: Good luck and farewell, Holmes

Sherlock: ?

Mike: Tears will be cried. Drains will be cleaned — by you.

Mike: Murder may be committed.

Sherlock: Surely, it can’t be that bad?

Geralt: No, he pretty much nailed it.

August: As much as I hate to admit it, the man is right.

Sy: So. New rules?

Leon: House meeting?

Mike: Sure. We’re all home, right?

Sy: Nope.

Mike: What? Why?

Sy: … sometimes when a date goes well, you end up staying over.

Sy: Are there other questions you need answered, bud?

Mike: I think I’m good…

Charles: Ladies, enough with the gossip

Leon: Right. Some of us have work to do.

Charles: Exactly

Sherlock: I highly doubt he was referring to you, Brandon.

Mike: Oooh, mad shade!!! xoxo Dani

Charles: Thanks. Sy, the complaint?

Sy: I had to wait in line to take a shower because the bathrooms were overrun by women.

Leon: Noted. The proposal?

Sy: I’m just pointing out the problem. Someone smarter than me can worry about the solution 🤷🏻‍♂️

Sherlock: Am I right to assume asking the girls to just… spend less time in the bathroom would result in murder, as well?

Sherlock: Never mind, Elena is nodding violently next to me right now.

Mike: What do you want us to do? Assign all the girls to one bathroom?

August: That might work, actually.

Leon: Doesn’t sound like a terrible idea.

Charles: Yes?

Mike: Wow, the one time I have a good idea, I don’t even realize it’s a good idea…

Mike: Wait, no.

Mike: I’m not permanently sharing a bathroom with seven of you because we sometimes have girls over.

August: Kid has a point.

Mike: I’m on a roll today! 😎

Sherlock: That leaves us with the question of how many women would have to be present to necessitate giving them their own bathroom, correct?

Marshall: If you desperately want to make it sound like math, then yes.

Sherlock: Not math. Logic.

Sherlock: And I find myself compelled to point out that I understand and enjoy logic.

August: Dealing with women is an aggravating experience, then, isn’t it?

Sherlock: Absolutely mystifying. But I’ve found that thus far the benefits outweigh the costs.

Mike: You know, for you… That’s actually kinda sweet 😂

Marshall: Romantic 👍🏻

Leon: Don’t tell her that…

Charles: Guys, seriously!

August: Right. Sol and Ange together never caused any problems.

Sherlock: Neither have any… liaisons of a fleeting nature

Mike: Hookups. You mean hookups.

Sherlock: You couldn’t pay me to say that.

Charles: Moot point. The average walk of shame happens before the shower.

Leon: It’s not like they stay for breakfast…

Leon: Beat me to it 😂🤜🏻

Charles: 🤛🏻

Geralt: The both of you are unbearable.

Geralt: August is right.

August: But…

Geralt: Sol and Ange don’t cause problems because Sol doesn’t take forever in the shower.

August: Right. But Angel is a nightmare, and so is Elena. Those two alone are enough to cause traffic.

Sherlock: Correct me if I’m wrong, but ‘Elena and Anjelica together, or either of those combined with any two others, or neither of them but a minimum of three others’ sounds like the kind of rule that will ensure we won’t even need it for the foreseeable future.

Sy: It also gives me a headache.

Mike: I don’t think I even understood enough of it to get a headache…

Sherlock: Minimum of 3, then ask me and Angie to not occupy both bathrooms at the same time. 🙄🙄🙄 Problem solved. You’re all still in trouble for even talking about this ❤️❤️❤️

Ange: They’re giving us what now???

Elena: Bathroom rules…

Dani: Tell me you’re kidding 🙃🙃

Elena: Dead fucking serious 🙄

Sol: Why?

Elena: Apparently 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Elena: We caused a traffic jam last night and made Sy late for his date???

Elena: Fairly sure Alicia didn’t mind because he’s still over there 🙄🙄🙄

Ange: What are the rules?

Elena: I don’t know. I’m glaring at Sherlock from a distance now.

Elena: I’m pleased to report he looks terrified every time I do 😈😈

Elena: They’re considering a girls’ bathroom.

Ange: I’m considering permanent occupation of all bathrooms.

Elena: Your boy called us both nightmares, by the way 😇😇

Elena: Apparently we take too long to shower, idk

Sol: You both take your time, sure…

Elena: Okay, fine. But he doesn’t have to point that out 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Ange: Funeral invitations to follow…

Ange: No but seriously

Ange: He thinks I take too long in the shower?

Ange: Fine!

Ange: I’ll take shorter showers!

Dani: He really said that? 💀

Ange: Let’s see how he feels about that in a week or two.

Ange: Enjoy flossing, August 🙃🙄

Dani: 👀👀 [the agonizing scream you just heard was brought to you by me spitting my drink over Mike’s keyboard]

Lexi: 🙊 Mike and keyboard both okay?

Dani: Keyboard fine, Mike hyperventilating. He’ll be alright, back to you Ange.

Ange: I might have to rescind this attitude…

Ange: As much as I want to get back at him for this, I don’t want him to run…

Sol: You really think he’d care? Ange… he loves you…

Ange: Not that much…

Lexi: Girl, please?? Have you seen the way that man looks at you?

Ange: … He’s never seen me, like… untweezed and unshaved and whatever

Dani: Never?

Ange: Never ever ever.

Sol: 👀👀

Sol: But why?? I only shave when I feel like it – which is almost never – and Geralt has never said anything??

Ange: Girl, you’re a blonde 👀👀

Ange: I don’t wax this stache, 2 weeks from now you’ll be confusing me for August. I swear.

Lexi: Okay there’s literally no way that’s true.

Dani: And even if it was, he’d still love you.

Ange: Yeah but I’m not about to find out, thanks.

Lexi: It’s your body, obviously

Elena: Do what feels comfortable

Dani: But if you do ever miss a day and he does say something nasty…

Elena: I’ll grab the shovels 😇😇

Leon: Ladies and gentlemen — mostly ladies. A little PSA regarding an update in the house rules at 179th Crescent Street. It was recently brought to my/our attention that the addition of a number of regular overnight guests has created a somewhat unmanageable situation in the realm of bathroom use. Therefore, the new policy is as follows: When three or more of the girlfriends are staying over, the upstairs bathroom is all yours! Management is currently unavailable for negotiation.

Charles: TLDR: take your long-ass showers on the second floor. Please.

Ange: This message was deleted.

August: I saw that.

Elena: Oh, I’ll say it with my chest

Elena: You all suck.

Sherlock: No…

Mike: Whatever you do, man, don’t finish that thought 😂

Sherlock: I think they got the message regardless.

Ange: Oh, we got it alright…

Dani: You’re lucky you’re cute, Sherlock 🙄

Mike: Hey!

Lexi: I’m so sorry to say this but… Over my cold, dead body am I walking up a flight of stairs in the middle of the night to pee.

Charles: @Leon Told you the ‘not up for negotiation’ thing wasn’t going to work.

Leon: It was worth a try.

Geralt: We’re not banning anyone from the house for using the ‘wrong’ bathroom

Sol: Then why the pointless rule?

Sy: Because yesterday BOTH bathrooms were occupied for well over two hours!!!

Sy: Seriously, what do you do in there?

Mike: Elaborate satanic rituals?

Sol: Occasionally.

Ange: Let’s see… Do we actually enlighten them?

Mike: Please do, I’m curious now…

Charles: I know what happens when I’m also in the shower… 😏

Ange removed Charles

Ange: Any other takers?

August: Angel…

Ange: Don’t tell me I’m overreacting!

August: I didn’t say a word 😑

Ange added Charles

Ange: Behave.

Charles: 🤐

Elena: Good boy.

Leon: Do you say that to Sherlock, too? 😏

Ange removed Leon

Marshall: Jesus, Ange…

Ange: Ugh, fine.

Ange added Leon

Mike: Seriously, girls… Other than summoning the occasional demon — what are you doing in there?

Sol: I’m gonna let Elena and Angie handle this one…

Ange: Alright. So first I check if I have all 4059834 items I’m going to need. Then at some point you’ll have to get naked, unfortunately…

Dani: Look at everything you hate about yourself for a solid 5 minutes until you’re nice and depressed

Elena: Didn’t come here to be called out like this, but thanks 🙄🙄

Sol: Poke your boobs and watch them jiggle because it’s funny until you’re less depressed

Mike: Getting jealous…

Ange: Then you turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm up

Lexi: To those ungodly temperatures from the pits of hell, you know? 👀👀

Mike: I’m not apologizing for that video, just so you know.

Lexi: That’s actually useful time to make sure you find the right playlist ✨✨

Sy: YOU DON’T NEED A PLAYLIST FOR A SHOWER

Lexi: Hard disagree

Elena: Yes, we do.

Sol: … Am I supposed to listen to my own thoughts in the shower?

Ange: I’d never be able to suppress my homicidal tendencies ever again, holy shit…

Dani: Then we actually get in the shower and warm up because the bathroom is cold, just like our souls.

Marshall: I’m genuinely learning more than I’ve ever wanted to know…

Mike: This is already taking longer than my whole entire shower…

Ange: And we’re not even close to being done.

Elena: @Ange Especially us…

Leon: Okay, fine, I’ll bite… Why is it different for the two of you?

Sol: Because they have curls?

Charles: That makes a difference?

Sy: So?

Mike: Why does THAT matter?

Marshall: Is that… important??

Elena: You’re all so clueless, it’s almost cute 🥺

Ange: @Marshall you actually might want to pay attention to this…

Ange: Alright. By the time I’m warm, my hair is usually wet all the way through

Ange: Massively heavy, by the way.

Ange: It’s hair-washing time! Which, idk about @Elena, but I have to do this in at least 4 sections if I don’t want to miss half of it.

Elena: I can get by with 2, but 4 is better.

Elena: Of course, 9/10 times I fucking forgot to section it before getting in the shower.

Ange: Obviously. So now you’re wrangling your wet hair into submission

Elena: Which is damn near impossible.

Ange: Exactly. But when that’s finally done, you can get to washing it.

Elena: And rinsing it until there’s absolutely no way there’s still any shampoo left.

Ange: Which takes a long ass time, BTW.

Ange: Then it’s ✨deep conditioner✨ time!!! Like… it’s always deepco time. I don’t even use regular conditioner anymore because my hair thinks it’s pointless. So like. That.

Elena: Mood.

Ange: And that stuff needs to sit in your hair for like 15-30 minutes

Mike: That’s like… 3 whole showers…

Charles: I don’t even spend this kind of time on my schoolwork 👀

Geralt: That’s not something to be proud of.

Sherlock: Imagine what you could do if you did.

Ange: Either way, it’s okay, because next… We exfoliate.

August: For those who haven’t been keeping count, we’re on step 12 or something. Jesus.

Charles: @Leon what the damn hell does our water bill look like?

Sol: Pay attention! Exfoliate! Then shave. Which, when you’re 6 feet tall in the showers here… damn near impossible, by the way.

Elena: (Cut yourself at least twice no matter how long you’ve been doing it…)

Lexi: Ohh! Cubicle yoga while holding a razor!!!

Dani: And while wet and slippery…

Ange: We’re superhuman 💃🏻

Sy: You’re nuts is what you are. All of you!

Dani: Anyway, when we reach baby dolphin status…

Dani: Which doesn’t happen until we’ve checked at least three times if we haven’t missed any spots…

Dani: I personally squeeze in brushing my teeth and skincare before rinsing my conditioner.

Elena: 👆🏻

Ange: Same! If I’m paying like 30 dollars for a hair mask that’ll barely last me two weeks, I’m gonna at least spend some time with it 👀✨

Sol: So that’s teeth and face wash in the shower. Then rinse that conditioner.

Ange: Which — again — takes a while if you have curly and/or a lot of hair.

Ange: Also, before I rinse my hair, I spend an ungodly amount of time detangling it with my fingers, which I have to do while the mask/conditioner is in. So…

Marshall: And at this point you’re finally nearly done, right?

Sherlock: … please, for the love of God, let it almost be over!

Ange: Oh, my precious little babies ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lexi: At this point we’re slowly considering getting out of the shower, yes.

Dani: But the rest of the bathroom is cold, so we take our time gathering the courage to get out.

Leon: 🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

Sherlock: The entire bathroom is hot enough to steam salmon at this point!

Mike: And yet, they manage to emerge from Mordor absolutely freezing…

Sol: When we do finally manage to make it out, we wrap ourselves in the biggest towel we can find…

Ange: By the way, ladies, you can thank me and Sol for the presence of the big towels in this house.

Sol: Oh GOD I remember the first shower I ever took here.

Geralt: The towels were fine.

Sol: …………. Geralt, I love and respect you, but you’re wrong and also stupid. ❤️

Ange: You’ll pay for that…

Sol: Looking forward to it 😈😈

Mike: Please continue…

Dani: We’re left with the rest of our skincare. So; toner, 1-3 serums, moisturizer. Sunscreen or oil, for me, depending on the time of day.

Ange: But the mirror is fogged up from the shower, so you have to deal with that…

Leon: YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR FACE IS, DON’T YOU?

Ange: Yes, but it’s also very pretty so I wanna look at it. Thanks.

Lexi: How can I meticulously study all the imperfections in my skin if I can’t see my face???

Dani: Exactly! (To both of those things, simultaneously)

Dani: So, after that, it’s time to moisturize everything you’ve exfoliated and/or shaved.

Elena: Which is… pretty much everything.

Sol: Cue deep sigh because this is where you find out you actually did miss a spot somewhere.

Ange: And then it’s back to the hair for the curly girls!

Elena: Leave in ❤️❤️❤️

Marshall: What?

Sy: ??

Mike: Wut?

Ange: It’s like conditioner, but you don’t rinse it out.

Sherlock: @Elena the stuff that smells good?

Elena: Yes 😂😂😂

Dani: Which reminds me; @Elena, is that your Quench in the bathroom or mine? I can’t remember…

Elena: Oh, God, me neither…

August: Settle this in the shadow group, ladies.

Lexi: You know about that, huh? 😂

Dani: Shit, they figured it out…

Sol: Not surprised… They’re not completely clueless…

Ange: Just mostly…

August: Thanks. Enough of that.

Ange: Okay daddy 🥺❤️❤️

August: 🙄

Ange: Anyway. After the leave-in and maybe two or three other products, I wrap my hair up in my hair-towel — or hair-tshirt.

Charles: Another towel? Why in the fuck?

Ange: Boys. I understand that you don’t give a fuck about this, but…

Ange: Regular towels are actually not good for your hair.

Elena: 👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

Lexi: Besides… You can’t dry long hair and your body with 1 towel…

Sol: What she said.

Sol: What they both said, actually.

Leon: Are we finally at the end of all of this?

Leon: I’ve literally never been more glad to not have a girlfriend, jesus fucking christ…

Dani: Yeah, pretty much… You get dressed, dreading the cold of the hallway, and then we quickly go find a boy to snuggle up to who can then tell us we smell nice and are very soft, so we can convince ourselves we didn’t just spend an unholy amount of time doing all of that for absolutely nothing.

August: All of this is… insane.

Ange: Hey! I can stop doing half of this, if you think it’s so unnecessary 🙄🙄

Elena: Now that I think about it… It wouldn’t even save any time, because you still need to let the conditioner sit, so…

Charles: Right, ladies, this was very interesting…

Charles: I’m going to take a shower now.

Charles: Talk to you in about… 10 minutes 🙄

Sy: Remind me to never ask any of you any questions literally ever again…

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #mike hellraiser #sherlock holmes #walter marshall #august walker #napoleon solo #charles brandon #captain syverson #college au #fluff

[rottenaero]

What if Steve got kicked out of his parent’s house after season 2?

He was already on thin ice after s1, with the beers and his fight with Jonathan, but after he got into ANOTHER fight with Billy they’re just kinda like, ‘pack your shit and leave’

And after a few weeks of living out of his car in the school parking lot, Eddie notices him after Hellfire and just kinda like, offers his house as a place to stay.

Of course Steve is like, ‘nah, ill be fine’ because he doesn’t want to freeload, but Eddie is absolutely not having it and convinces him that he wouldn’t be, and that he can pay him and do chores and shit if he really feels that bad about it.

Then Steve just starts living with him, of course there are rules, don’t invite people over, don’t talk about Eddie’s business, and don’t talk about the shit in his room.

The rest is the standard criteria, don’t bring animals in, don’t burn the house down, blah blah blah.

Course Wayne is a bit mad about this random guy with the last name Harrington at first, but the guy makes him coffee before he leaves for work, and is willing to put on a goddamn sailor costume to pay help pay the rent, so eventually they become acquaintances.

Eventually turning into the two watching sports on the tv and laughing at Eddies antics.

Thing is, during this whole thing, no one knows they live together. Dustin and the party don’t get much more than i moved out with a friend after the first time they ask to hang out at his house, and Hellfire just knows he has a roommate, not that its Steve, because all his shit is in the living room and hes always working when they’re over.

One day, mid-lunch, they decide to hang out at Eddie’s after school and he's all cool with it but is like ‘wait, my roommates off, let me go ask them if its okay’ and they're like ‘sure, okay, I wonder who it is?’

Then he waltzes straight up to Steve Harrington, who’s sitting by Nancy and Jonathan, and asks.

“Hellfires coming over afterschool, you good with that?”

“Yeah sure, do whatever, its your damn house, I can get out your hair if you want?”

“Nah nah, its all good, want you to meet ‘em anyway. Hey hey, wanna sit with us today?”

“Sure.”

Then Eddie heads back to the now silent Hellfire table (actually the whole cafeteria is a little silent) and sits down in his seat, Steve sitting in the empty one next to him.

Hellfire is absolutely confused, not just because Steve lives with him, but because of the very talked upon rumors about Eddie being gay, and how very true they were, and the fact that as a former-king, Steve should know that.

Steve however, seems very unconcerned with those rumors because for as close as Eddie keeps getting to him, even holding his bicep at some point, he acts very chill and relaxed, even leaning into him at some points.

Hellfire eventually calm down, and go to his house after school, and around 10 they decide to just stay the night. Eddie gives them a thumbs up, and turns to Steve.

“You’re bunking with me tonight.”

“Cool.”

Gareth starts panicking because there is a very obvious pride flag above one of his posters and he may not have seen it before and Eddie is so getting beaten up.

Except none of that happens. They wake up early that morning and Steve starts getting ready for work, and is about to leave when he turns to Eddie with a smirk.

“What, no goodbye kiss? Too dorky to do in-front of you friends?” And Eddie strolls right past the flabbergasted Hellfire and plants one on his temple.

“Goodbye o-great-king-of-assholery!”

Gareth quite literally chokes.

(What makes this even better? They’re not even dating, thats just Steve-being-Steve)

Part 2

Ao3

#might be coming to your local ao3 in more detail #they're dorks your honor #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #Steddie short #might write this #might not #hellfire #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #ficlet #steddie ficlet #crisisinverted17 #crisisinverted17's roommate au

[vivmaek]

MARS SIGN OBSERVATIONS

♂ Pisces Mars - I think Lennie Small from “Of Mice and Men,” would have this placement. This is a person who is seemingly harmless, and yet they still managed to cause harm and destruction through indirect action. When looking at someone with a Pisces Mars, their innocence and an assumed lack of strength is noticed first. These are kind people. They would rather harm themselves over another person. Their first instinct isn’t to attack, but to defend. When angry, they appear to be caught up within a panic. A Pisces Mars is driven by their big dreams. They might not always know what they want out of life, and their goals and ambitions may change frequently. This does not mean that they are incapable of finding success. If anything, their unwavering belief in themselves and their ability to achieve the impossible is what takes them to great heights. Hope is everything for someone with this placement, it’s what gets them out of bed in the morning. 

♂ Aquarius Mars - It's hard to pin someone with this placement down. Their actions don’t make sense to other people. Aquarius does a good job showing its eccentricity through Mars. The rules of society and the opinions of others do not dictate their actions. These types are constantly surprising people, and they like this. The public will often speculate about those with an Aquarius Mars. Theories are formed about them, no one can guess what they’re going to do next. In my opinion, this is the most rebellious Aquarius placement. They live their life in a manner that is truly unconventional. People with this placement are not aggressive, but they are clever. They like outsmarting people. A sense of superiority can sometimes act as a driving force. They go out of their way to make the people around them feel stupid if they’re in a foul mood. Their need for independence will never be forsaken. 

♂ Capricorn Mars - Hard work doesn’t scare these people off. They’ll put in whatever energy is needed to complete a project or endeavor. A strong sense of ambition and an excellent sense of focus are traits commonly seen with this placement. They’re quite secure in themselves and exercise self control through all their actions. Discipline motivates them. They take their responsibilities seriously and expect others to do the same. A Capricorn Mars goes above and beyond what is expected of them. They do this through a step-by-step process and practical planning. Cutting corners or taking the easy way out is something you’d never catch them doing. These types want to maintain control over every aspect of their life. They become angry when plans are thrown into a disarray through unexpected events. “Going with the flow,” is not a strong suit of theirs. Their need for security is what motivates them. 

♂ Sagittarius Mars - People with this placement are incredibly restless. They lack patience and need many different outlets to pour their energy into. They are easy going but are also quickly overtaken by passion. Crossing their moral beliefs is a good way to get them riled up. They like to believe that their opinions are more intellectual than they are emotional. When angry they like to get up on a soap box to lecture people. When people don’t agree with them, it can sometimes feel like criticism. They also don’t consider how their tendency to dish out brutal honesty may actually be more hurtful than it is impactful. They often act as a spark that ignites fire, in both a positive and a negative way.

♂ Scorpio Mars - The definition of “moving in silence.” Lots of people claim to do this, but a Scorpio Mars wouldn’t be caught making such a claim. They’re smarter than that. They know that hardship and struggle are inevitable. This does not scare them, but they also don’t fight against the natural currents of life. During certain points, their sense of ambition is so relentless that it becomes obsessive. But, this can only last so long. Rest and recuperation is a process they embrace. After acting on an immense level of concentration for a long period of time, they will need to take a step back to reassess goals. Rather than just accepting things for the way they are, a Scorpio Mars would rather make changes. If they feel that a path is ill-suited for them, they’re not afraid to change directions. Starting from zero is not discouraging and it is something that motivates these types. They have the power to turn nothing into something great. 

♂ Libra Mars - Mars is uncomfortable being in Libra. People with this placement often struggle with taking action and are as indecisive as they come. They get caught up in what's fair and what isn’t. They have a strong need to strike equality and want every situation to be as balanced as possible. Some might be surprised to know that the ultimate desire for these types is to garner a sense of peace. They might unintentionally stir the pot through their inability to take a strong stance on something. They want to weigh all the options possible and can become stressed trying to do so. Being passive-aggressive is also something that's frequently seen with this placement. These types think they’re being nice when in reality they’re making people uncomfortable through their fear of being direct. They’re sneaky when faced with conflict but also good at leading people into a resolution. 

#astrology #astrology placements #astro community #astro observations #astrology observations #astro notes #birth chart #astrology tumblr #natal astrology #natal chart #astrological observations #astrology notes #astro placements #astro tumblr #astro posts #birth chart placements #astro #mars #mars astrology #pisces mars #Aquarius mars #capricorn mars #Sagittarius Mars #scorpio mars #libra mars #pisces #Aquarius #capricorn #sagittarius #scorpio

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep

you and Eddie meet at the library. he’s smitten.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, bookworm!reader, lovesick!Eddie, reader gives Eddie book recommendations. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: brief mention of loneliness & negligence in Eddie’s childhood. Word Count: ~2.2k it's my hope to make this a little series! i think eddie is def a bookish guy - no lord of the rings quoting, metal head dungeon master hates reading. he would certainly be open to any fantasy/horror recs you had for him! <3

Indiana. 1989.

Hawkins Library sees a lot of action in the summer.

They offer a wide variety of youth programs to keep the local kids busy and the parents sane while school is out. One of the main events is Saturday Story Time, a beloved weekly staple that you have recently been tasked with putting on.

It’s simple. You gather a number of books, usually with a common theme, and then read a select few to the children who had signed up for the day. Most of the kids in attendance are no older than six or so, with some parents even pulling up chairs to the back so they can sit with infants cradled in their arms. The older ones sit criss-cross-applesauce on carpet squares in front of you, their chubby faces alight with giggles as you recount each silly, fantastical story with all the spirit you can muster.

And then there’s always an accompanying arts and crafts project, of course. If you read The Very Hungry Caterpillar then, naturally, you have to make little googly-eyed caterpillars out of popsicle sticks and colorful pom-poms. You don’t make the rules.

If trouble occurs during Story Time, it’s usually in this phase. (Giving paste to toddlers is always a gamble – you never know what they’re gonna do with that.)

And on this particular morning, it’s been chaos from start to finish. A whopping eighteen kids had signed up, and you stretched yourself pretty thin trying to attend to everyone.

One of the babies spit up directly onto the little girl sitting in front of him and his mother. Someone slipped on their carpet square and fell harshly to the floor, earning a bruised elbow that you gently fussed over. You wrangled a pair of twins who fought bitterly over a bottle of Elmer’s glue. There were three individual running-with-scissors-scares and, finally, you spent a good ten minutes soothing one sobbing child with whom there was nothing apparently wrong with, and that you suspected was just in need of a good cry.

So yeah, it was basically pandemonium.

But eventually, to your great relief, things wound down. The audience dispersed, with their handmade goods clutched in sticky fists, and went to peruse the glossy line of picture books you put out for display. Within the next hour or two, everyone traded the cool darkness of the library for buttery sunshine, and all was quiet again. You waved cheerfully to the last parent-child duo as they made their exit, promising them that there’d be a fun activity next weekend too.

You love these storytime sessions, you really do, but sheesh. Sometimes they run you ragged. With the havoc of the morning finally over, and the promise of lunch in your near future, you try to shake off the weariness, and instead take it upon yourself to clean up the disorganized mess someone’s made of the horror section.

You’re going about your work, tongue poking out in concentration as you strain to reach the really high shelves, when you notice someone standing in your peripheral vision. You turn and glance at him, or at least, what you can see of him. He’s half-hidden by the shelf behind you, but you catch sight of brown hair and denim.

A pale face appears on a craned neck from around the corner. His dark eyes meet yours, widen slightly when he sees that you’ve caught him lurking, and he abruptly disappears again.

You purse your lips to hide your smile. This isn’t uncommon; such moments often occur when you’re cleaning up a section of books someone is hoping to sift through. In a small act of kindness, you move over to the neighboring shelf and look for something to busy yourself with; trying to give the guy a chance to browse without having to ask you to step aside.

He doesn’t emerge. You wait, expecting to sense him passing by you, but no dice. It’s amusing to think that someone might be frightened to approach you (You? Really?) but you can’t help feeling sorry that you were in his way.

The rest of your shift is rather uneventful. At the end of the day, you punch out and head home, the stranger behind the shelf forgotten. 

When you come back to work on Monday, it’s much quieter than the last morning you’d been in. You greet your coworkers and set up shop at the front desk, opening up a book of your own to pass the time until someone needed assistance.

You’ve been reading for about half an hour when the big double doors open up for the day’s first visitor, the sound echoing loudly in the silent, spacious room. You look up in interest, ready to greet the person with a warm smile.

“Good morning!” you softly call out as he comes into view. He walks slowly towards you, shoes scuffing the checkered tile with each step. As he comes nearer, you can see that he’s biting his lip, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the gesture oozing self-consciousness. He only makes eye contact with you for a second before his gaze flits away again.

He’s pretty conspicuous-looking to be approaching the desk with such hesitance, you think. He has dark hair that hangs in slightly-scraggly curls down to his chest, and huge dark eyes. The pale skin of his arms, sticking out from within a denim vest/Judas Priest t-shirt combo, are littered with tattoos.

He pauses a few feet away from you, like he’s debating whether he wants to stop and chat, or to simply veer off towards the bookshelves and start browsing. Ultimately he decides to shuffle forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Hi there. What can I do for you?” you ask, voice gentle but encouraging.

He looks down and rests a hand on the desk, absentmindedly tracing the wood pattern with his thumb. “Um, yes.” He doesn’t offer anything else.

There’s a pregnant pause, both of you digesting the fact that what you had asked was not a yes or no question.

He tries again. “I…am in need…of some new reading material.”

You nod gravely, expression serious. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

He begins to rock lightly back and forth on his feet, contemplating. “I like fantasy, especially Tolkien. I read a lot of horror, too, and sometimes sci-fi. If you had any suggestions for me, that’d be great.”

“Oh, we can certainly find you something,” you reassure him, already flipping through a mental rolodex of your favorite books in those genres. “Here, come with me.”

You stand and move around the desk to meet him, beckoning for him to follow.

Eddie watches you run a delicate hand over the spines of the books, keenly aware of the clammy sweat that’s flooding his own palms. Be cool, Munson. 

“So,” you begin, a gleam of excitement in your eyes, “you like fantasy. Do you read Le Guin?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “Oh yeah, I’ve read the Earthsea trilogy.”

“Have you read any of The Hainish Cycle books?”

“I haven’t read those ones, no.”

You pull out two slim paperbacks from the row, holding each one out for him so he can study the covers. “These ones are science fiction, and they’re pretty good. You might like Rocannon’s World since it’s similar to a fantasy novel, but personally I think Left Hand of Darkness is the best.” You suddenly pause, and look around furtively, like you were checking to make sure that you two are really alone. You even put a hand up to the side of your mouth, as though shielding the conversation from eavesdroppers.

“Honestly,” you lower your voice like you’re admitting something scandalous, “I even liked it better than Earthsea.”

“No!” Eddie immediately matches your whispered, gossipy tone and lets his jaw drop, pretending to be aghast.

“Yes!” you insist, seemingly delighted by his willingness to play along. Eddie’s heart soars.

“I guess I can’t refute that until I read it, huh? What’s it about?” he asked, taking it from your hand.

“An envoy is visiting this frozen alien planet, and he’s trying to convince them to join this intergalactic coalition that he represents, but they’re making it like, really difficult for him. Also, gender doesn’t exist, and there’s political turmoil stemming from border disputes.”

“...oh. Cool.”

The next half-hour passes in this fashion. Your soft, mild demeanor is aglow with enthusiasm as you pull out book after book, giving him an off-the-cuff elevator pitch for each. Eddie can practically feel the cartoon hearts swirling around his head, bright pink and red bubbles that are almost certainly going to appear out of thin air and give him away.

He can’t put his finger on what it is, precisely, that’s pulling him in so deeply, drawing him towards you like a magnet with an opposite pole. Maybe it’s the tender way you talk about each book, the love and care that’s so tangible in your sweet voice, the way you speak about them as though they’re your old friends. Perhaps they are.

It’s not an unfamiliar concept to Eddie. A childhood steeped in loneliness and poverty, instability and dysfunction, neglect from his volatile and unreliable parents…yeah, he gets it. The wanting, the longing, the dire need to escape to someplace that doesn’t exist, some place where things were better and didn’t hurt, a dreamworld that would be kinder to a scrawny little boy with unwashed hair and a mean father.

The closest he ever came to it was when he lost himself between the yellowed and dog-eared pages of the few, precious books he owned.

So he listens to you chatter away with chest-aching tenderness, already thinking that he could listen to you like this for hours and be glad for it.

“You love fantasy, but you’ve never read The Last Unicorn?” 

Eddie gives you an apologetic half-shrug, no longer able to keep the goofy, besotted grin from unfurling across his face. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“It makes me cry. You have to take it,” you tell him with pleading eyes, adding it to the top of the growing pile in his arms before he can refuse. Not that he ever would. How could he, when you look at him like that?

“You cry at this one, really?” He looks curiously at the artwork on the front, an innocent picture of the pale horned creature. “But it’s so unassuming…”

“Don’t be fooled, it’ll get you. Take it,” you repeat.

Eddie shifts the stack of books to cradle it in one arm, so he can raise the other at you in a salute. “Yes, ma’am. And when I’m finished with it, I’ll give you a full report on the emotional damage it caused me.”

This makes you giggle, lips turned up in a gorgeous smile, and Eddie knows he’s a goner.

Back at the front, you resume your previous positions at the desk. Him in front and you behind, this time separated by a short pile of books.

You hold your hand out. “Card, please, sir.” Polite and professional, but with a little sparkle in your eye that lets Eddie hope for a moment that his time with you this morning was more pleasure than business.

He fumbles with his wallet, slipping out his library card and slotting it between his index and middle fingers, extending it for you to take. His chunky silver rings catch the light.

You accept the offering. “Thank you” – you quickly read the messy signature at the bottom – “Edward.” You look back at him with a grin.

He cringes, face scrunching in embarrassment. “Oh God. Call me Eddie, please.”

The scanner gives a little chirp! as you begin the checkout process, nodding. “Will do, Eddie.” His name sounds like a song when you say it, one he never wants to stop listening to.

You finish scanning his books, and slide a receipt into the jacket of the novel on top (which just so happens to be Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love). Instead of sliding the stack towards him, you keep both hands clasped on the cover, hesitating. You bite your lip, an unconscious imitation of himself earlier. “Listen….”

Eddie straightens up a little, stomach flipping like a coin. “Yeah?”

You bow your head. “I’m sorry if I talked too much. It’s just – most people who come in don’t actually ask me for recommendations, and I got excited,” you admit quietly, looking sheepish.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says without missing a beat. “I appreciate it. I really enjoyed it, actually,” he adds, eager to quell your anxiety. “I liked talking with you.” More than you know.

“O-oh,” you stutter, taken aback. “I liked talking with you, too.”

Eddie nods, smiling slightly. “Would you like to…talk again?” He flushes scarlet and coughs. Smooth. “I just mean, when I finish these” – he motions towards the day’s finds – “we have to discuss them, right? You helped me pick ‘em out, after all.”

“Of course. You have to let me know what you think.”

His smile gets bigger. “So we’ll reconvene?”

“We’ll reconvene,” you chuckle.

“Awesome. Looking forward to it.” He sweeps up his books, and gives you a little wave. “Thanks again, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

And he can hardly wait. It looks like he’s got a lot of reading to do…

thanks for reading!!! <3 edit: this is now a series! Read Ch. 2-> Here!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x bookworm!reader #stranger things fanfiction

[anzulvr]

Karma with a perfectionist mom-like reader (good grades, sweet, used to be class A yada yada) that pretends to be aloof and innocent but secretly has similar humour to Rio and Karma?

Like imagine reader saying "the things I'd let them do to me." With the most stoic, nonchalant face ever 💀 or them watching Karma beat a bully till they're back with God with a small supportive smile going, "You're doing great, darling! Take your time. 👍"

what’s up ty for request sorry this took forever😭!! This is my first time posting in a while and I still haven’t done all request :,).

— You’re the walking embodiment of the “I could accept him as he is- the atrocities are apart of him” tiktok audio.

— Before you joined E class, no one really knew you personally(except for Karma) so the first few days were pretty formal.

— That was until you got comfortable and your more outgoing side showed through.

— You went from sweet and quiet to making the most out of pocket jokes.

(does anyone say that anymore? idk!!)

— Even then, you’re still really kind and helpful, just not in the ways they’d really expect.

Someone needs tissues? You’ve got it.

Someone feels sleepy? They can rest on your shoulder!

Karma needs 12 ounces of Wasabi and Sriracha to torture a grown man with? You’ve got it.

…

Your classmates think you’re a bit too helpful.

— Yk how they call Karma a sadist all the time? They coin you with the masochist name to match.

(Couple goals???)

— E class can never guess what you’re next line is going to be.

“That should be me.” And it’s Karma dragging Nagisa in a fight.

— You praise Karma a lot. Like alottt.

(He needs to get the Validation somewhere)

It gets to his head too. (Korosensei needs to humble him again)

Karma will finish beating someone up and all you say is

“Karma you’re so talented!” Or “Karma you’re so strong!!”

(No ones even surprised anymore😭. They’re come to terms with it.)

Course there’s still lots of ways you and Karma differ.

Even if you’re able to be a more real version of yourself after leaving A class you’re still responsible!

So a lot of the times you keep Karma in check.

“Let’s skip.”

“No we can’t..! It’s against the rules and Korosensei would be-”

“Alright, alright I get it.”

— Karma beat money out from some delinquent? You hand out bandaids, unless they were really reallly shitty- in that case no bandaids.

— You get along with Rio so well, like cheese and toast, strawberry & vanilla, and whatever two other things go together!!

She’s so psyched when she finds out you and Karma are together because she can (lovingly?) embarrass the hell out of both of you.

— don’t worry though Karmas already got a great plan to get back at her, and you’ve probably got everything he needs in that bag of yours.

<3 again sorry this took like forever, and sorry to everyone who I haven’t replied to yet :(!! Ik it’s been super long.

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane headcannons #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #assasination classroom #assassination classroom #assclass

[cursingtoji]

ᥫ᭡ — EXECUTIVE AFFAIRS: In a cutthroat world of boardroom battles and power struggles, you must navigate ambition , corporate intrigue, and unexpected love affairs.

✧ PRELUDE

— contents: CEO!reader, construction worker!Toji, lawyer!Nanami, therapist!Geto, ex-husband!Gojo; power imbalance, sexual frustration, manipulation, use of 'darling', 'baby', 'dear' & 'boss', 4k words, on-going series

— note: osha is the occupational safety and health administration agency in the USA, even tho i'm not american seems easier to just say osha (also a fun word to pronunce)

A young man opens the rear door of the Jaguar as soon as your driver stops by the construction site, “This way ma’am” you accept his hand, touching the cement with your stiletto first before getting out of the vehicle.

As scheduled you are heading to a meeting with the architect responsible for this particular project, a big one. Normally the CEO wouldn’t be involved in such routine visits like this, but you definitely don’t want to be like the previous CEO, who barely stepped out of his office for anything.

Besides, you have to make a good impression with the other directors that would be there today as well, and what better way to do that if not going to the construction site yourself, even though you clearly do not belong there given the way your heel wobbled as soon as it touched the uneven ground.

“Excuse me, miss” you’re stopped by a man twice your size — horizontally and almost vertically — extending a white helmet in your direction, “I’m sure that hair costed a lot and you don’t wanna cover it, but every person on site, even the ladies, ‘gotta wear it.”

You stand a bit shocked at the man addressing you like it’s not your last name on his uniform.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I should inform you that it’s your CEO you’re talking to” the boy beside you speaks up, he’s wearing a white helmet and the unknown man a yellow one.

“Great, so you are able to afford the OSHA fine if they decide today is a good day for inspection, but I’d rather not have another pointless safety training just ‘cause no one had the balls to tell you to protect your pretty ‘lil head” his expression doesn’t change a bit with the new information. You find that respectable, especially having so many people stuttering when talking to you.

If you were to say that you don’t get even a little bit amused by people being nervous in your presence Nanami would have to warn you about perjury. 

It’s quite a change to have a blue collar employee sticking to the rules and not batting an eye when the highest possible authority of the company is standing right in front of him, especially when that someone looks like he just got out of a sexy construction men calendar… not that you have ever seen one of those. That’s just what you think they might look like, plus that scar only adds up to fantasy.

You clean your throat, “I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Fushiguro” you repeat the name so you won’t forget, “I wasn’t aware of the rules” you side-look the young man beside you who’s now staring at his own feet embarrassed since it was his duty to inform you.

“Call me Toji” you take the helmet and put it on, “By the way, you’re supposed to wear trousers too and… literally anything but that” he points with his chin to your high heels thinking how that alone was a safety hazard not just on a construction site. Toji leans closer “but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you have quite beautiful legs.”

You are left mouth agape, internally appreciating that he didn’t say that out loud — after all being sexualized when you are trying to impose respect would require you to put a show and fire the man — but also makes you question if he was straight forward with you because of his work ethics or because he does not respect you as his superior. 

Not that you wouldn’t let him do disrespectful things to you, but still!

You’re taken to where the rest of the directors are, they’re easy to spot — a bunch of men in suits that clearly don’t belong to the place — surrounding a table with the blue prints. They greet you and you realize this is the first time you see all of them around a table and not sitting, poor guys must be dying for a room with AC right now.

It’s not like you belonged there either, with your tailor made beige suit that had a pencil skirt instead of the newly-discovered-necessary trousers and how-the-fuck-you-thought-that-was-a-good-idea high heels. But in your own defense you did visit a lot of construction sites when you first started at the company all those years ago and that’s much more than the white collar men in front of you can say.

The main architect starts to give you all an status of the project being interrupted by the senior engineer every few minutes, the last one clearly thinking he’s better than the first even though neither of them lifts a finger in this ground.

Your sight is drawn to the man that scolded you before, while the architect is pointing to something on top of the construction and everyone else is shielding their eyes from the sun to find it, you’re looking straight ahead to Toji who’s currently lifting an apparently very heavy sack of cement on his shoulder and taking it all across the site. God, he’s strong.

His handsome face shines with sweat, you’re sure the wife beater he has on also violates some OSHA code, but who would be crazy enough to report that? Not you for sure, the view is worth the OSHA fine.

Especially when he drops the sack with a grunt and uses the shirt to wipe his face, revealing a torso you’re sure Michelangelo would die to use as inspiration to sculpt into marble then having people saying ‘whoa that’s real art’. 

You wonder if someone would scream at you for touching that piece of art.

Unfortunately you don’t expect to get caught ogling by the subject himself. So the best thing you can do is find whatever the architect is pointing to and pretend to pay attention like you should have from the beginning instead of eye fucking one of your employees.

“Hey, boss” you hear on your way out of the site and back to your cozy office where you wouldn’t get your ankle broken that easily. You turn around and see Toji catwalking his way to you.

“Technically I'm out of the hazard zone, mr. Fushiguro” you justify your lack of a helmet which you ditched a few seconds ago.

“Toji” he corrects you, taking his own helmet off “and I’m not this uptight, unlike some people here today” he mutters the last part looking behind him to some of the directors that seemed to be looking for tiny errors on the project so they could fix it and justify being there.

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“I’m pretty sure you're being robbed.” 

“What?” you look around, “What do you mean?”

“You’re paying for double the stuff that’s actually being delivered” he took a sheet of folded paper out of his pants, you reach for it but he pulls it back, “I have proof and I can say names.”

“Did you say that to your field supervisor?”

“Please, who do ya think it’s signin’ under this?” he rolls his eyes.

“So you came to the CEO instead? You’re going behind some big backs here, sir.”

“Look, miss, I want a promotion, I know a lot of big shots will go down for this and I’m the only one capable of handling the people here. Besides I stand by what I said before, no one has the guts to do this so I’m taking a big risk and I deserve compensation” he hands back the paper and this time he let you take it. You stare into his deep green eyes suspiciously, the man has the looks of a fantasy villain with his sharp features and dark eyelashes, you're not entirely sure if you should believe him.

“Give your number to my assistant, we’ll schedule a meeting in the office, you tell me everything you know and I see what I can do about it.”

“In the office? Didn’t know you allowed commonores in your castle” he smirks.

“Only the pretty ones” you wink and his smile grows wider. 

“How long have you known about this?” Nanami questions.

“Not even 24 hours” you sit on your white couch signing for him to take the seat in front of you.

Your lawyer does that thing you find really hot where he unbuttons the coat of his five digit worth suit before sitting down. You admire Nanami’s elegance while he roams his eyes through the paper, he has a vest between the coat and the dress shirt. Navy blue suits him so well, matches his eyes. He makes you think every man should wear vests, but of course not every man can pull it off. Honestly, you find it hard to believe there's anything Nanami can’t pull off, but you haven't seen your lawyer without a suit… ever. 

Maybe he looks bad with a plain T-shirt? 

No way. 

Perhaps with an overall and cowboy hat? 

Mmm the image makes you wanna ride something. 

What about emo hair, eyeliner and a band tee? 

No, you can’t imagine Kento with emo hair, no chance he had a rebellious phase except if his parents wanted him to be a surgeon and he became the best lawyer in the city just to piss them off. 

“I’m glad you came to me first, but we’ll need to involve auditing and probably internal affairs. That’ll probably put the project on hold for some weeks, also I’ll need more evidence than this” he shook the one paper sheet that was merely a quotation of supplies even you could understand is way too much for a single building.

“I got the guy for that, say the word and Yuuta will arrange a meeting” you pointed to your assistant sitting outside.

“Tell me, dear” he put the sheet aside, taking that posture that intimidated you a bit, “A blue collar worker just saw your pretty self on the site and handed criminal evidence? Just like that?”

You open your mouth, thinking what to say that won’t sound like you are being taken advantage of, and failing.

“Oh darling” he says a bit too condescendingly for someone that technically works for you, “Thought I told you about being too naive” he leans on the couch, making himself comfortable like you’re about to have The Talk.

“Kento, is not like that” you cross your arms defensively, “He said he wants a promotion, how risky that would be?”

“Thought you would say that” he takes his phone and hands it to you, “So I did my own little research.”

“What’s this?” you find yourself looking at a picture of the man you met yesterday. 

Only now you could see tiny numbers behind him indicating his height and he held a plaque with his name. He looks way younger, still very handsome, you wonder how popular he used to be in his youth, with a face like that and the implication he was arrested was enough to make every girl’s bad-boy-dream come true.

“What was he accused of?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Not relevant, also sealed records” he breaks eye contact and that’s enough for you to understand he actually knows it and he did not get this information by any legal means.

“So what? The man got a bit of trouble with the law when he was young” you shrug, remembering even your ex husband had a little rich boy “criminal” file, if you can even call the dumb shit he did outta spite for his parents an actual crime.

“HR will find out about this, then you’re going to have to justify why you’re recommending a filled man for a managing position.”

“And I’ll tell them he actually found out about a theft scheme and whatever public-pissing crime he did will surely be overlooked.”

“Darling, you have to start thinking about your image, we’ve been through that before” he tilts his head.

“You don’t like my image?” you question playfully twirling your hair, Nanami smiles for a brief second.

“You know what I mean: your image towards the board, you barely made the votes necessary to be where you are today.”

Indeed, you owned the company and no one could take that away, but the CEO position needed to be voted and you only got the necessary votes because your ex-husband had the strongest voting rights and part of the divorce agreement was that he voted for you, so his, plus a few more other members of the board's votes and you made chief executive officer.

“Fine, then write a contract, he tells everything including testify if he has to in exchange of the supervisor position and I’ll pitch it to the board before any decisions are made” you uncross your arms raising from your seat.

Bringing the board into the conversation made you nervous, most of them don't like you and you’ve been trying to prove yourself for months. Even though you worked your ass off way before marrying the owner all they saw was a hurt ex-wife making pretend.

“Atta girl” Nanami raises too, buttoning his coat back and placing his hands on your tense shoulders. Nanami smells like what you think it should be every handsome lawyer's trademark scent, cause damn that smell would make you sign anything he gives you.

“Don’t worry much, you’re doing great” he presses a bit and you melt.

“Take me out to lunch?” you pout.

“I would love to” he lets go of your shoulder, “Unfortunately I have a hearing, but I'll be back for that meeting soon, okay?”

You sigh in defeat, getting even a few minutes of Nanami’s time for yourself is as hard as it can get, only a corruption scheme to get him to come to your office in such short notice.

“Ma’am” Yuuta says from the speakerphone, “Your ex-husband is calling” you groan, throwing your head back.

Of course he would want to interrupt your moment with Nanami.

“I can get you a restriction order” your lawyer offers jokily (or not).

Aside from being the company's lawyer, Nanami Kento was also your divorce attorney, which you managed to get only after agreeing to give him your company's account if he managed to land you the CEO position. Like everything in this merciless corporate world, it was give and take, you got what you wanted – not surprisingly so, afterall Nanami, even though is not a divorce specialist, is the best. Still, you like to think of him being more than another contractor of yours.

“I appreciate the offering” you smile tiredly, Nanami kisses your hand like the gentleman he is before leaving your office, “Yuuta, I’ll take him– it. I’ll take the call” you sit back behind your desk massaging your temple “Put him through.”

“Hello, beautiful” he greets over the speakerphone in that always so cheerful tone.

“Satoru, what do you want?”

“No chit-chat? It’s the least you could do for me after I gave you the company” entitled as always…

“You didn’t give it to me, you gave it up for the rest of your assets” you remind, already sick of this same discussion over and over.

When the divorce was officially on the table you told Kento exactly what you wanted: the company. The one thing you knew your ex husband would hate to lose, but also didn’t love as much as his lifestyle – which would be brutally affected if you decided to go for the 50% you were entitled to.

So through a carefully written agreement you accepted way less than you were owed in the form of full ownership of the respected construction company and title of chief executive officer.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. How have you been?”

“Fine. Just tell me what you want, I actually take this job seriously and have important things to do.”

Oh god, he would tease you so bad if he knew about the corruption scheme, and the worst part is that, eventually, he will know. Gojo has ears everywhere around here.

“Nanami” he says simply. You start to look around your office, wondering if he has cameras there.

“You… want… Nanami?”

“Yes, beautiful” he confirms slowly like he's talking to a kid that has just learned the alphabet.

“Why? You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, you can’t have him” you lean on your chair, denying Gojo gives you great satisfaction.

“It’s not for any bullshit reason, alright?”

“I don’t care, Satoru. Besides, I don’t own Kento, you can approach him anytime” you smile knowing he would never be able to do that without you.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” condescension drips from your phone and onto your desk, “He won’t represent me even if I run for president.”

“So you need legal representation? You’re not calling me from jail, are you Satoru?” you mirror his condescending tone, surely he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Thought you didn't care, or would you bail me out? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t have the money for that” he laughs, arguing was never a thing with him, he would mock you and find a way to make you doubt your accusations. Gaslighting is it? “I’ll give it a shot, just so you know, but this is a great opportunity for you to ask something in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Think about it, baby, I’m sure there's plenty of things I can do for you” his tone is lower, more seductive.

“Doubt it” you roll your eyes hearing his chuckle.

“Yeah? When was the last time you had–” 

You hang up.

Then sigh loudly and press the button to talk to Yuuta.

“Yes, ma’am?” you scrunch your nose, still not used to being called that, Nanami said you should let your sweet assistant call you ma'am or madam at least in front of others since you could use the recognition of your authority.

“Please put Geto on the line.”

“Certainly” you wait, stepping out of your heels and digging your toes on the fluff carpet under the table.

“Hi, doc” you salute your psychologist.

“Sugar, I told you there’s no need to address me like that, hurts my feelings” his honeyed voice is everything you need to hear in such stressful times.

“It does? Maybe you should see a therapist to talk about that, I have a great recommendation” you can’t help but smile like a little girl when talking to him, being playful is a way to cope with your harmless crush.

“Just great?”

“He’s the best, I can assure you” he laughs, “Do you have a few minutes?”

“For you, absolutely” your face warms up then you remember the subject of the call and cools down again.

“It’s Satoru.”

‘It’s always Satoru’ Geto thinks.

“He just called wanting something, I told him no and he made that same old joke about me not having money” you huffed.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Helpless? I don't know, he must think I’m poor now or something” which is ridiculous, you’re not nearly close to his patrimony as you used to when you were married but what you have is still fuckload more than what it takes to be considered poor.

“He’s trying to remind you of what you lost when you left him, this is just another manipulation technique, my love. Don’t let him get in your head” you need this as a mantra to hear every time your ex-husband calls, “Did he bring up sex this time?”

“No, but he was about to.”

“And what did you say?”

“Hanged up” you hear him snorting.

“Well, that can work on the phone, but what if you were talking face to face? What would you have done?”

Geto knows a lot about you. Obviously since you pay him to listen while you ramble and complain. Still, feels overwhelming having someone recalling your previous actions, especially the ones you're not exactly proud of.

“Tell him to shut up, throw a stapler on him, call security, threaten him with a restriction order.”

“Would you really?” Geto likes to take a joke you make and dig on that.

“Well, probably not the last two…” 

“Have you been looking up restriction orders?”

“No, that was a joke my lawyer made early. A restriction order would be too… bureaucratic? Also unnecessary, afterall Satoru he never physically hurt me or threatened to.”

“That would be a good way of making him leave you alone for a while since you're not able to fully detach from him” you sat up.

“That's not true! I’ve been doing everything by myself lately, don't even have time to think about him! I’m detached, doc.”

“Wanna know what I think you would have done if he made that sexual comment face to face with you?” you gulp and Geto takes your silence as consent to continue, “I think you would let him go forward with it.”

You make an offended sound but don't fight his statement, “And what would happen next?” he tones the question like a professor trying to make the class complete a sentence, you keep your head down and mouth shut, “You would’ve let him sweet talk you into sleeping with him again.”

“You don't know that” you murmur.

“It’s a pattern, love. This is how abusive husbands keep their wives from leaving them or even telling anyone about the abuse. They use sex to make them think how good it is to be with them despite everything else.”

“Satoru was not abusive.” you defend your ex-husband firmly, “And I already left him!” you defend yourself less firmly.

“And he still thinks he can have you back! You know why?”

“Because I’m a catch that he shouldn’t have cheated?” Geto stays quiet for a few seconds and you feel a lump in your throat forming. The comment was supposed to sound more like a joke but you're still too hurt for that , clearly.

“That as well, but you really think he regrets it?”

“He seemed pretty sorry in the divorce mediation” you murmur recalling his lost-puppy expression.

“The meeting where he signed a paper that would make him lose his company and his wife? Gee I wonder why” the little sarcastic remark made you smile and shake your head, your psychologist using sarcasm against you is quite funny, “My point is, if you really want to be independent from him you ‘gotta stop letting yourself be attracted back like a magnet” you let his words sink in hearing some papers being ruffled on his side.

“I’m giving you homework.”

“Oh no…”

“Find your sexuality by yourself, you can watch porn, masturbate or even better: have sex with someone. Anyone but Satoru, because right now that’s what he’s using to control you.”

“Geto, I don’t know about this. Porn is too gross, masturbation is too ineffective and sex is too…” you trail off.

“Vulnerable?” he completes.

“I guess…”

“It’s been a few months since you last slept with Satoru, right? What’re you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” you rub your face.

“You know what I mean” he's strict and you let out a long sigh.

“I feel frustrated, sometimes stressed and distracted” all caused by the men you have to deal with including the handsome psychologist putting some sense in you. Not exactly what you wanted him to put in, but oh well…

“Exactly, in your current state it’s only a matter of time until you end up on his bed. You gotta decide if you are willing to: find porn that is not gross, masturbate more effectively or let yourself relax and be vulnerable.”

Is easy to like Geto Suguru, he’s handsome, has a sweet voice, he listens without interrupting (manterrupting is a big no-no for this job thankfully). Though sometimes it’s easy to hate him too, you have to remember he's saying what you need to hear not what you want to, even if your ears could use some tickling from time to time.

“Still with me?” he asks after you remain quiet.

“Yes, doc” he says your name in a warning tone, “Sorry, Suguru.”

“All good for our appointment next week?”

“Hm” your thoughts go to the newly found out corruption scheme that will need your attention the following days, “I’ll ask Yuuta to confirm with your secretary alright?”

“Whatever works best for you, love.”

“Bye, Suguru.”

“Don’t forget your homework.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sakurasimppp @sad-darksoul — to be tagged in future works of this series please comment “@ me” in this post.

note: i’m not sure if tickle the ears is a known term worldwide but means “saying or suggesting things to please even if untrue”. also i have some big plans for kinktober so next chapter might take a little while to be posted, let me know your thoughts <3

© all content belongs to cursingtoji; do not repost!

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk series #jjk x you

[galexystern]

eyes on the road - 18+

pairing; steve harrington/f!reader

rating; E

warnings; smut (MDNI), teasing, blowjob, fingering, p in v sex, car sex, fluff

word count; 2,350

desc; bored on the road, you come up with a challenge for your boyfriend.

masterlist

the lightbulb goes off in the middle of the roadtrip. steve is driving and you’re doing your job as passenger princess perfectly, pointing out farm animals, marveling at the pretty sky, and singing along to the radio, all to keep steve smiling and alert. his hand has been stuck to your thigh since you started the day.

now you’re bored. and as you study steve’s long, meaty fingers, you feel something ripple in your lower stomach. you love steve’s hands—they’re big and soft and gentle—and you love them inside you. you let your mind ruminate on the situation as the heat inside you grows hotter. and then it comes to you.

“baby,” you say innocently, not even looking at him.

“yeah, pretty girl?” your boyfriend asks in response, gripping your leg tighter and making you work to hold in a gasp.

“how good of a driver do you think you are?”

“obviously, i’m a great driver.” he scoffs. “always get everyone there in one piece, don’t i?”

you don’t think that’s the best indicator of good driving, but keep it to yourself so you can continue your mission. “yeah? wanna prove it?”

steve’s eyes narrow and you grin. he can’t resist a challenge. confirming, he replies smugly, “sure, i bet i ace it.”

“okay,” you squeal, making him smile. “only rule is that you can’t stop or pull over, otherwise i stop.”

“stop what?”

but you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over to delicately place your lips on his neck. you feel him swallow as you kiss languidly across the open skin, heating underneath your attention. “oh,” he says uselessly, voice croaking a little.

smirking, you keep going, pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere you can, leaving marks that’ll bruise nicely tomorrow. you kiss over his pulse point and thrill at how fast his heart is racing already. you’ve barely done anything.

you reach down and palm him through his jeans. steve yelps, not expecting it, swerving in the highway lane.

“careful, baby,” you purr, continuing to stroke his clothed cock, delighting in how it hardens under your ministrations. he gulps and nods haphazardly, placing both hands on the wheel and steeling his composure.

or tries, at least. when your other hand joins the first and undoes the button and zipper, revealing his sky-blue boxers, half-hard dick straining at the fabric, he whimpers. but he doesn’t jerk the car to the side of the road, you’ll give him that. you decide to increase the difficulty of the challenge because you can.

“such a good boy for me,” you coo as you slowly pull down the waistband of his underwear to free his cock. it stands at attention for you already and your mouth and cunt get wet at the sight. “barely anything and you’re ready to go.”

“angel,” steve whines, but the pet name cuts off into a groan as you take him in your hand and start stroking him, firm but slow.

“remember,” you sing, “if you stop, i stop.”

you lean down and cover his cock with your mouth. the discomfort of the gear shift digging into your stomach is absolutely worth the filthy moan your boyfriend lets out as you swirl your tongue around the head, licking into the slit to pick up precum as offered. you smile around him; you love being able to practically ruin him, turn him to mush. the power of it goes straight between your legs, and you squirm in your seat as your underwear grows uncomfortably soaked.

one of his hands settles in your hair, not moving you, just gripping the strands as you work. on a particularly hard swallow, he pulls a little and you moan, vibration causing him to jerk his hips a little.

“oh, baby,” he whimpers out. “you’re so good to me.”

you pull off with a pop. “don’t forget this is a test,” you say with fake sternness. he nods stoically. you move your hand to stroke him again, faster this time, and smile manically when his face spasms in brief ecstasy.

“can i have a kiss?” he asks with a petulant edge and pout.

you cock your head, considering. “okay,” you decide, “but a quick one.”

he nods and turns his head so you can kiss him. he tries to turn the tables for a split second, make you open your mouth to his control, but you pull away before he can make it happen. he whines but brings his eyes back to the road, where the car is still driving like nothing out of the ordinary is happening inside it.

“this is very impressive, stevie,” you note, only half-teasingly. “but can you hold on for the climax?” he groans in response as you squeeze the bottom of his shaft in anticipation. you lean down and take him into your mouth again, bobbing your head quickly. his hips start moving periodically, unable not to when your throat is pressing against the head of his cock so deliciously. you hum here and there to enhance the sensation; his fingers tighten in your hair when you do.

“baby, baby, ‘m gonna cum,” steve mumbles out, and you ready yourself just in time for the first squirts of cum to shoot into your mouth. you swallow it all happily as he continues, until he seems exhausted in more ways than one.

you sit back up and wipe your mouth, watching as he pants in the driver’s seat, car still in the middle lane with seemingly no trouble at all.

“that was amazing,” he breathes. “and i did good, didn’t i?”

you shrug. “sure, for the first part.” he glances at you, possibly a little scared. “you don’t think that was the whole thing, right?” you smirk.

as your boyfriend watches from the corner of his eye, you tug off your pants and underwear, and spread your legs across the passenger side, putting yourself on display. he sucks in a loud breath as you part your lips, slick sticking to your fingers as you move them through.

“look at what you did to me,” you pout, and lift two fingers to his face to show him. he darts forward and takes them into his mouth, sucking them clean and moaning. he loves the way you taste. “it’s not fair to leave me unsatisfied, right, honey?”

he shakes his head and you grin. “this is the second part of the test, baby. you think you can ace it still?”

“yes,” he says with all the confidence he can muster, which is not very much.

“well?” you prompt, and he briefly looks at you in confusion. “aren’t you gonna help me?”

he still seems at a loss, so you reach over and grab his hand, moving it so it rests against your pussy. he whimpers as he feels how wet you are, and you sigh happily as he runs his fingers up and down the space. your breath catches when they reach your clit; steve notices, and keeps his fingers there to rub in tight, quick circles.

“oh, fuck, right there, stevie,” you whine, lifting your shirt and bra to play with your nipples. he glances over and his jaw drops at the sight, hand speeding its motions and making you jerk into it.

“you’re so beautiful, angel,” he murmurs, eyes darting between you and the road faster than they should. but the car doesn’t go anywhere and one hand is still locked on the wheel, holding on for dear life. “wish i could taste you right now. i’d devour you. i’d eat you whole.”

your bite your bottom lip at the idea. “please, baby,” you beg mindlessly.

steve knows, he always does. his fingers move from your clit to your entrance and circle it enticingly. “is this what you need, pretty girl? need my fingers inside you?”

you nod with a wanton moan.

“what’s the magic word?”

“i already said it,” you whine.

he chuckles meanly. “not that one. the other one.”

your jaw clenches at the realization, and then you groan out, “please, daddy.”

“that’s my girl,” he praises, and slides one finger in. he pumps it slowly, and soon enough, you’re begging for more. thankfully he listens without preamble, and adds a second finger to thrust into you. his thumb sneaks up to rub your clit, and you whimper. you clench around him as his fingers curl up and hit that spot that drives you crazy. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he soothes. “cum all over my fingers. wanna see you fall apart.”

a few seconds later you do, body tensing and then relaxing into jelly as your orgasm washes over you. steve’s hand slows to a stop and then he removes his fingers, sucking off your juices with a happy hum. you gaze at him, vision hazy, relaxed smile permanently etched into your expression.

“well?” steve prompts. “did i pass?”

“just like you said you would,” you reply warmly.

“told you. now, can i please pull over?” he motions down with his head and you follow his gaze to his cock, swiftly on its way to becoming fully hard again.

you giggle. “already, handsome? that’s more impressive than passing my test.” he growls softly and you smirk. “i guess it’s only fair you get a reward, baby.”

almost instantly, he’s switching lanes and taking the first exit you come across. you thank the stars that you’re in a particularly woodsy area and it’s relatively easy to find a secluded spot; just seeing how ready he is for round two is getting you going again very nicely.

as soon as he’s pulled into a random stretch of foliage and thrown the car in park, he’s reaching for you and you’re leaping at him all at once, mouths crashing together violently. you both groan at the taste of each other—the remnants of you on his tongue makes you push in further to chase it.

steve hauls you over to his side of the car, moving the seat back so you can sit comfortably without the wheel pressing into you. he grunts when your drenched cunt rubs against his hard dick, the feeling so delicious that you keep your hips moving.

“angel, sweetheart,” he says between desperate kisses. “you ready for me?”

“beyond ready,” you breathe against his lips, and you can feel his smirk. he helps you sit up and then lines himself up with your entrance, stroking himself a few times before letting you sink down onto him.

you keen loudly as his jaw drops, the stretch and burn exquisite. every ridge, every vein, slides against your walls, you feel it all as he bottoms out, tip sitting pleasantly just against your cervix.

“move when you’re ready, honey,” steve says, voice strained, and you feel a wave of love for him wash over you. he never rushes you, never makes you do anything until you want to, never wants to hurt you, especially during something that’s supposed to be so enjoyable and intimate. you lean forward and catch his mouth in a sweet kiss, slowly raising up and then slowly sitting yourself back down, swallowing the moan he lets out at the pressure of you around him.

you start gradually but soon your movements are fast and hard, feeling like you can never get enough of him, like you’d rather swallow him whole than let him go again.

“oh, i love you, angel,” your boyfriend murmurs, eyes closed tight and hands in a death grip on your hips, and you whine at how he can seemingly read your mind, or how he’s feeling the exact way about you that you are about him in this moment, or how his cock pulses inside you, or all three. he takes that whine as direction—maybe it was that too—and lifts you so he’s pistoning his hips so hard the sound of slapping skin fills the car, mixing with the smell of sex.

“love you so much, daddy,” each word of yours matching the tempo of his thrusts, and he moans, almost delirious with love for you.

his actions start stuttering at some point and you know he must be close. proving it, he says, “can you cum with me, sweetheart?” at your nod, which he echoes, he continues, “go on, touch yourself for me, baby. ‘m so close, feel like i’m gonna explode.” you press two fingers to your clit and move them erratically, bottom lip going white as your teeth clench into it so hard. “that’s it, angel,” steve soothes, looking like he’s hanging on by a thread. “look so good riding me like this, never wanna see you do anything else.”

“oh, oh, oh, i‘m cumming!” you wail as your orgasm bursts inside you, making you clench around steve’s cock rhythmically, which in turn makes him finally let go and spill into you. you groan and then collapse against him, breathing heavily.

“that’s my girl,” steve says softly as he holds you close, stroking down your hair and back, kissing your temple and cheek as you come down from the high with him. when you feel stable enough, you start matching his kisses, eventually finding your way to his mouth and kissing him sweetly, lips moving with no specific intention, just loving the feeling of his on yours like always.

you lift yourself off of him slowly, and he helps you settle back in the passenger seat. he opens the middle console and pulls out tissues—the softest money can buy—and hands them to you, knowing you usually like to do it yourself. you give him a loving look that he returns before wiping yourself and righting your clothing. steve does the same, checking the area for peeping toms, but it’s deserted.

he starts the car and pulls onto the road, hand coming back to rest on your thigh as he gets on the highway.

“maybe you should come up with challenges more often,” your boyfriend muses, “if that’s the outcome.”

you laugh, and he glances at you with all the adoration in the world, as you drive towards the setting sun.

#steve harrington x reader #mine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x you

[phefics]

An idea: poly!ghostface- the boys are out about to go after a victim when they find they’re missing something/something broken (the phone isn’t working or their voice changer doesn’t have batteries whatever you want is totally cool!)

They realize- afab!reader the needy little whore did it on purpose so they’d have to come home to her and give her attention like they don’t give her attention 99% of the time.

Which of course they do and they are very very grumpy angy bois. All like “oh you missed us you wanted our attention you know you’d get it when we came home but you had to ruin our game and now we gotta take our energy and anger out somehow”

Followed by some smutty degradation, spanking/punishment, good ole fashion filth lol

Side note i think you have one of the easiest to understand request rules idk some people just make them complicated but yours is great!

needy little whore

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: exactly what the ask above says!! :) warnings: degradtion, spanking, a bit of knifeplay, rough/unprotected sex, face-fucking word count: 1.3k

You knew that you were asking for trouble, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It wasn’t that Billy and Stu weren’t giving you enough attention. In fact, to the average person, they would be considered abnormally clingy. It didn’t bother you, though, because you were the same way.

You would have survived one night without them, but you were feeling mischievous that night. You wanted to piss them off so that they’d take it out on you, because angry sex with Billy and Stu was a whole new level of adrenaline.

So, you stole the batteries out of their voice changer, and then hid all the other batteries in the house. You weren’t stupid: You knew the reason they wouldn’t be hanging at Stu’s tonight, and you didn’t mind that as much as you minded their attention being elsewhere.

Since Stu’s family was rarely home, you would often hang out there even when Stu wasn’t around. He didn’t care, and had even given you a spare key.

You watched the two boys head out the door, black backpacks surely stuffed with everything they’d need to carry out a brutal crime.

You popped in a VHS of Nightmare on Elm Street, then made yourself comfortable on the couch, wearing the most revealing pajamas you had. You had seen the way the boys looked at you before they left, and smirked to yourself.

You only made it about twenty minutes into the movie before you heard a car pull into the driveway outside. Anticipation built inside you, but you stayed put, looking innocent as ever as Billy and Stu burst through the front door, both looking absolutely pissed.

“What did you do?” Billy demanded.

You looked up at him with your sweetest expression. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” Stu said. “You’re fuckin’ lucky we tested the thing first.”

“You trying to get us caught?” Billy asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up from the couch. “You know we can’t fuck you if we’re in jail, right? Is that what you want?”

You shook your head. “No, of course not—”

“Ruining our game just cause you wanna get fucked, huh?” Stu said, closing in behind you. You were trapped between them now, Billy still holding your wrist as Stu pressed himself against your ass; he was already hard, and you bit back a moan at the realization.

“I just—”

“Couldn’t wait til we got home?” Billy smirked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You would have gotten what you wanted later, but the needy whole just couldn’t wait.”

Stu gripped your hips from behind, breathing against your ear. “Well, we gotta get our energy out somehow. But now it’s all gonna be focused on you, baby. We’re gonna fuckin’ destroy you.”

You whimpered as they manhandled you back onto the couch, the film still playing in the background.

“Look at these slutty clothes,” Billy practically purred. “Barely covering anything…”

Stu pulled a knife from the bag he’d been carrying, the blade glinting in the light. “Bet you won’t mind if we take ‘em off,” he said, using the sharp blade to cut the strap of your top, then doing the same to the other side.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Billy stroked your hair and whispered, “We’ll buy you somethin’ even prettier, m’kay?”

Before you could offer a response, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them reflexively, making him chuckle.

“Such a fucking slut,” he said.

Stu pulled the remnants of your tattered clothes off, leaving you naked as Billy pulled his hand back, admiring the strings of spit on his fingers before licking it off. He and Stu were completely fucking depraved, and it turned you on more than you could handle.

You were quickly pushed onto all fours on the couch, and you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of them fucking you. But that was wishful thinking. Instead, a hand came down on your ass with a hard slap! making you yelp.

You turned your head to see that it was Stu who had hit you, and you pouted at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that pathetic face,” he said. “You thought we were just gonna give you what you wanted after that? Not a chance, baby. We gotta punish you first.”

He laughed as you whined in response, clearly enjoying your frustration.

They took turns spanking you, slapping your ass without mercy.

“Count them,” Billy had ordered.

Each number left your mouth between pained groans and squeaks, stuttering over nine and eleven and thirteen, but when they hit twenty, they stopped, apparently satisfied with your teary face and marked-up ass.

“Think we should give the whore what she wants?” Stu asked.

Billy hummed, considering it. “I doubt she learned her lesson, but I wanna fuck her too bad to care right now.”

“Agreed,” Stu said, and you stayed on your knees as the two of them stripped out of their clothes hurriedly, bickering about who was going to take what place.

“You always get to fuck her, let me—”

“Her mouth is just as good—”

“Do I get a say in this?” you asked.

“No,” the boys replied, grinning at their synchronized speech.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched them play a rigorous game of rock-paper-scissors for who got to fuck you, and your laugh only grew when Stu won, and Billy flipped him off.

Some nights they would take turns, but after the spanking that they’d given you, they were gracious enough to not push your limits too far.

You were already wet, but Stu took some time playing with your pussy, fingers fumbling through your folds to rub at your clit, and you bucked your hips uselessly, moaning at his touch.

Billy walked to the other end of the couch, grabbing you by your hair and smirking down at you. “You gonna let me fuck your throat, slut?” he asked.

You nodded, opening your mouth for him without needing to be asked. He chuckled at your obedience, and wasted no time in pushing his cock between your lips.

As he did so, Stu was lining himself up with your entrance, his grip impossibly tight on your hips and he entered you, slow at first, before immediately picking up the pace, snapping his hips rhythmically. Every time he thrust forward, it made Billy’s dick go further into your mouth, and the sounds of their moaning filled your ears as they used you like the needy whore you were.

Your eyes teared as you focused on breathing through your nose amidst the pleasure of Stu’s cock inside you. Before you met them, you could never cum from penetration, but both Billy and Stu had a way of fucking you so good, rough just like you wanted, that it had become more common for you to orgasm from it.

“So fuckin’ hot,” Billy murmured, almost to himself. “Perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

“Such a slut,” Stu added. “Taking us both at once. Gettin’ off on it, too.”

You whined at their words, floating from the mixture of praise and degradation.

Stu came first, and Billy followed shortly after, and the three of you collapsed onto the couch together, sweaty and tired.

Stu leaned over to you and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You had a suspicion it was partly so that he could taste Billy’s cum, but you kissed him back anyway.

“Get a room,” Billy joked, making Stu giggle.

Nightmare on Elm Street was almost over, and you were sticky and exhausted.

“You wanna get cleaned up, baby?” Stu asked.

You nodded, and before you could say anything, he was carefully leading you to the bathroom, his arms supporting the majority of your weight.

Billy went upstairs to grab you some clothes to borrow—a pair of his pajama pants, and one of Stu’s t-shirts. It was all too big on you, but it was comfortable and smelt like them.

You fell asleep to the sound of Billy and Stu planning another night to carry out the plan that you’d ruined. Maybe next time you’d take the burner phones off their chargers.

#poly!ghostface #billy x reader x stu #stuilly #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #billy x stu x reader #poly!ghostface x reader #slasher smut #slasher fic #ophelia's fics

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you. 

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket. 

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way. 

Not that it matters. They’re pirates. 

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by. 

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky. 

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you. 

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands. 

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming. 

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you. 

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms. 

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy. 

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts  as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you. 

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited. 

~

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt. 

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye… 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you. 

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile. 

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you. 

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water. 

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes. 

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you. 

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you. 

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction. 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out. 

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net. 

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain. 

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that. 

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass. 

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide. 

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves. 

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like. 

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question. 

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck. 

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in. 

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine? 

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first. 

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it. 

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him. 

But you were exhausted. 

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm. 

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

~

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin. 

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door. 

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin. 

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

~

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off. 

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little. 

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it. 

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew. 

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes. 

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air. 

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

~

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does. 

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment. 

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway. 

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions. 

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it. 

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him. 

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit. 

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

~

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire. 

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol. 

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over. 

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork. 

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips. 

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin. 

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low. 

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough. 

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand. 

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice. 

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand. 

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you. 

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away. 

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. 

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island. 

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters. 

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours. 

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics

[undercoverpena]

7. honey cream

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nice forearm in your story.

Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.

Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.

I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.

You’re hilarious.

I try to be.

You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?

That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.

Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.

Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?

I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.

They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.

I bet they look great on your ass.

Everything looks great on my ass.

Including my hand.

Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.

I can’t wait to see you.

Drive safely, Butterscotch.

“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”

Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.

When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.

He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.

It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.

“Don’t—I want to be here.”

“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”

Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.

Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.

“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”

“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”

Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”

He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.

You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —

“Race you to the end of the wall?”

Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.

Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.

In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.

Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.

“We did good, didn't we?”

You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”

Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”

Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.

But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.

“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”

“You don’t have to…”

Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.

“You cooking for me?”

“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”

He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.

Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.

Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.

A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.

“Can I do anything?”

Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”

And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.

“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.

“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”

His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.

When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”

You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”

He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.

As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.

But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.

Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.

“So, how often do you have Luca?”

Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”

Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.

“Does that… bother you?”

“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”

Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”

Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”

“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”

Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”

Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.

“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.

“Yeah?”

Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”

Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.

You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.

His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.

“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”

His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."

And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”

Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.

“My friends… they want to meet you.”

His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.

Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—

“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—

Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—

Until he says your name.

Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.

“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.

Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.

Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.

Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.

“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”

Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”

“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”

“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”

“When?”

He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.

I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?

It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.

Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.

Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.

A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.

The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?

Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.

It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.

A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.

As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.

Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.

Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:

Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.

With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.

Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.

Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.

As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.

The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.

It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.

You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.

Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.

“You look nice.”

Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”

“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”

Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”

“Smooth talker.”

The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.

As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.

No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.

Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.

As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.

“So, where will your friends be?”

Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”

Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.

“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”

“His other non-official, less present trainer.”

“You slacker.”

Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”

Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Because you missed me?”

His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.

“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”

Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”

Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”

“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.

Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”

The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.

It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.

“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”

“Does Harold like them?”

Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”

“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”

Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.

I think they like me.

Are you texting me from the bathroom?

Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.

Baby, are you peeing and texting me?

No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.

So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.

Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?

Don’t answer I can see it.

Shut up.

If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.

Basta!

You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.

Come back and keep me company.

Grin a bit more and I might.

Rainy.

Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[thedevilspearl]

➛ what happens in the shower

a/n: so i really love the idea of using the scent of the person you love in order to feel close to them, like perfume or shampoo. so when mc and lucifer make the next move in their relationship, they’re both too embarrassed to admit what they have done in order to feel closer to one another.

tags: 2.2k words, lucifer x female reader, male and female masturbation, minors do not interact!

“so….you’re finally making the big move, huh?”

lucifer isn’t phased by his brother’s prying. in fact, he is more than used to them getting involved in his business, be it professional or personal.

you, however, are taken aback by mammon’s question and his nonchalant tone when he asks, as if he was expecting this all along. clearing your throat after choking on your orange juice, you glance towards the head of the table expecting lucifer to have your back and announce the news himself.

but his mind is occupied by something else, it seems, and you finally confirm the brothers’ suspicions.

“y–yeah,” you stutter. “i’m moving into lucifer’s room….officially.”

“took ya long enough,” mammon whines. “you guys aren’t as good at sneaking around as ya think! ya should’ve asked the great mammon for a lesson or two. i’m an expert in sneaking around.”

“that’s a lie,” asmo deadpans. “you’re the last person she should take lessons from when it comes to sneaking around. i, for one, know everything about secret love.”

“not that it was a secret, anyways,” satan chimes in. “everyone knew you two were together, arguably before you knew about it yourselves.”

the table erupts with snickers and you look to lucifer again for any form of comfort. breaking the news may have meant little to the brothers, but to you, it meant a lot to finally announce yourselves as a couple making the next move in your relationship.

but lucifer, again, is distracted by something else. he eyes his brothers one by one with narrow slits as he chews slowly on his breakfast. he’s speculating something….something you don’t want to concern yourself with as of now.

so you join in the casual conversation with the others whilst finishing your plate, leaving lucifer with his own thoughts.

the eldest, on the other hand, cannot rest his mind until he has found the culprit.

he smelt it as soon as he entered the dining room this morning. a familiar scent, manly and expensive. he can recognise his luxury shower gel anywhere. it wouldn’t be the first time his brothers borrowed his shower gel. but there was an unspoken rule, even with mammon, to always ask before using.

and as far as he knows, nobody in the last twenty–four hours so much as mentioned his shower gel. yet, it’s the only thing he can smell this morning.

he’s so lost in his thoughts, fantasizing about how he will make the culprit confess and what punishment he will thrust upon them, that he doesn’t realise when you and his brothers begin packing your bags and setting off for school.

he even misses the chance to walk you to school himself, the opportunity stolen by one of his brothers. a heavy sigh escapes him as he finally leaves the house of lamentation no wiser to who actually used his shower gel.

EARLIER THAT MORNING...

you moving into his bedroom has been on lucifer’s mind lately.

you’ve been sleeping there every single night, even if it took some sneaking around to get yourself into his warm, silk sheets. some nights, you’d be there before he retired from his study only to find you sound asleep on his side of the bed.

lucifer dislikes mess but whenever he sees your clothes strewn about his room and filling up his wardrobe in an uncoordinated manner, it fills his heart with comfort more than disdain.

and he would usually prefer his mornings and nights alone with his classical music winding him down, finding solace in his own company. but never once has he been irked by your presence during his alone time.

so, when lucifer wakes up this morning with you snuggled into his chest, his heart melts at the sight and more so at the realisation that you’re more or less living in his bedroom now.

having claimed it as your own in every way other than in writing, he wonders if it’s time to mention it and clear up any lingering misunderstanding about your….situation.

while his mind is whirring away trying to configure the right words to approach you about it, your sleepy frame shifts in his hold and your eyes flutter open. with a yawn, you rub the remnants of sleep from your eyes.

“morning, luci.”

oh, how lucifer could drown in your sweet voice.

“good morning, my love. did you sleep well?”

“i always sleep well when i’m with you.” you hum with a smile and bury yourself further into his body.

“about that…” he knows it’s too soon in the day, let alone the morning, to bring up the topic but he knows if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll grow to anxious and avoid the conversation completely. “have you thought about moving here permanently?”

“hm? but i already live here…”

“i mean,” he inhales to stop his little chuckle at your sleepiness. “moving into my bedroom.”

“oh,” you take a moment to ponder. “well, that would be nice. i don’t want to overstep, of course. and only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“my love, if i was not comfortable, you would not have been sharing my bed with me for the last few months. besides, most of your things are in here so it would only make sense to move in here completely. that is….if you want to.”

“of course, i want to,” you lean up and place a kiss on his cheek. “thank you, luci.”

his heart thrums with excitement. “well, that’s settled. let me know if you need help moving your things over. but i doubt you’d need any since most of your things are already here.” a smug smile dresses his face.

no one could ever understand how much happiness he’s experiencing, not even you.

“does that mean i can use you shower, too? it’s so much nicer than mine.”

“of course, my love. what’s mine is yours now. forever.”

“oh, luci…”

“now, now. don’t get teary so early in the morning or we’ll be late for school. go take a shower and i’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

he sends you on your way with one last kiss and you skip into the bathroom, spinning giddily and you switch on the water, letting it run before stripping your pyjamas. you step in when the water turns hot and melt under the warmth.

but you’re eager to see lucifer again, missing him even though he’s just downstairs making breakfast for everyone. if he were with you right now, so you could hold him and feel safe in his arms. simply being able to smell him would make you happy.

the thought alone has you grabbing lucifer’s shower gel. he will certainly be mad but you’re too far gone to care. if it makes you feel close to him, it’s worth it.

with your back against the tiled wall, you pour the gel over your body, giving your tits a squeeze as foam begins to form. lucifer’s rich scent covers your body and your skin tingles in response, as if the shower gel on your skin were his own hands tracing every inch of you.

your skin burns and it’s not from the water, but from the desire to have lucifer touch you and tease you, to claim your body as his and show you otherworldly pleasures.

but you and lucifer are at an odd place in your relationship. comfortable with sharing a bed every night but not quite ready to make the next move intimately. as much as you’d wish lucifer could make you feel good, you only have yourself to relieve your neediness this morning.

taking your lip between your teeth, you swallow a moan as you fondle your nipples, using your thumb and forefinger to tease and flick them. the wetness of the shower makes it easier to imagine lucifer’s hot tongue playing with them as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

your hand reaches between your legs, spreading the foam to your pussy. you brush over yourself, back arching already with heightened sensitivity. your fingers slip between your fold and you rub in slow circles.

you’re no longer concerned with washing yourself in this shower, but to devoting your morning entirely to lucifer despite him not being there. you can think of only him as you become more desperate for release.

ensuring you give your breasts attention, you keep one hand on them, cupping and squeezing them while the other works between your spread legs, rubbing erratically on your sensitive clit.

“ah!” you gasp, feeling your orgasm approach you quickly. and you don’t relent as a wave of pleasure washes over you. your knees tremble, about to give way as you’re overcome with bliss.

it takes minutes to relax from the tension of your orgasm but when you can finally stand on stable legs, you wash away the shower gel with an embarrassed hope that lucifer won’t realise some of it is missing.

LATER THAT NIGHT...

an entire day goes by in an instant, filled with many activities. classes were normal, save for a little trouble from the brothers. but you were always there to help lucifer keep them in line.

water gushing against lucifer’s back elicites a deep groan from him. a hot shower is exactly what he needs right now.

with hands against the steamy tills, he holds his body up with aching muscles. another long and busy day had drained his energy and he craves your presence to ease his body and mind.

he’s about to reach for his bottle of gel before he pauses, eyes caught by a pop of colour. he picks up the bottle which was placed next to his and reads the label. some fancy, floral shower gel.

his heart warms and cheeks burn hotter than the water rushing over his body. you finally brought over your things to his room. you’ve officially moved in.

lucifer is overwrought with happiness that he pops open the bottle for a whiff of your scent, hoping it would make him feel close to you.

and it works, albeit, a little too much.

his body reacts in an instant, blood rushing to his cock and he should feel ashamed that an erection is his first instinct in response smelling you. but you smell so good and he can’t help himself.

nothing can stop him as he spills some into his palm, running it under the water before rubbing over his chest, allowing lather to form and your scent to fill the bathroom.

“fuck,” he pants and runs his hands down his torso over his defined abs, moving slowly to his cock. “what are you doing to me?”

he’s ashamed; no one has ever had this much control over him. even when he’s alone, he can hear your voice ordering him to stroke, using the lubrication of the foam to ease himself to a state of complete relaxation.

up and down, he jerks his cock slowly, allowing it to harden before he decides to grip himself tighter. his moans are strangled, unable to escape his throat as he tries to keep the noise to a minimum.

one hand is splayed on the wet tiles, bones and veins popping through his flexed muscle and skin as water drips from his body.

while his other hand pumps faster, harder; he can’t stop himself. he’s desperate for release, imagining you in the shower with him, on your knees stroking him and sucking him. oh, how he wishes his fantasy was reality.

he’s engulfed entirely in your scent and you are the only thing on his mind as thick ropes of cum spurt from his raging cock. thrusting his hips into his fist, he rides out his orgasm, letting himself release over and over again.

his raspy moans and gasps are drowned out by the sound of running water and he collapses against the wall, letting the last of the foam and cum wash away.

when lucifer finally plops down beside you in your now shared bed, you embrace him immediately. he doesn’t have a chance to shift into a comfortable position before you lay on top of him, limbs wrapped around him so tightly that he’d never escape.

not that he would try to escape; this is heaven to him.

he brushes your hair to the side as he asks you about your day, breathing into your neck to smell the smell he loves so much. only, the smell of his own shower gel fills his nose.

“hm,” his voice rumbles, fatigue evident. but there’s softness in his tone now he can finally relax with you. “you smell like…”

you stop him immediately, burying your head into his neck to hide your burning cheeks or else he’d figure out what you’d done in the shower this morning. but when your nose grazes against his skin, you’re met with a sweet and fresh scent, one that reminds you very much of the shower gel you placed in the bathroom hours ago.

did he….?

you can’t bear to look up, or to even speak. never had it occurred to you that lucifer would do the exact same thing. his body stiffens beneath you and he’s silent, knowing that you know his little secret, one that he just so happens to share with you.

your hearts thrum against each other’s chests, but neither of you say a word. and you prefer it that way because you are far too embarrassed to have this conversation. and lucifer feels the same, silently accepting the new unspoken rule between you.

what happens in the shower, stays in the shower.

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me lucifer smut #obey me smut #lucifer x reader

[rad-batson]

The Robins as RA’s Because I Said So

Credentials: I’m an RA, trust me.

Dick Grayson: The “Cool” RA

His friends told him he’d be great at it so he applied

Holds your hair back when you’re throwing up in the bathroom

Gives life lessons at every opportunity even when you don’t want them

Sees his residents in the hallway and proceeds to talk their ear off

Knocks on your door if he hasn’t seen you in a few days to make sure you’re doing alright

Has the “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed” face on point

You actually feel bad when he catches you drinking in the halls :(

Jason Todd: The Cool RA

Wanted something to pad his resume so he applied

Will help you hide a body. “Just ask.” You didn’t, but you can’t remember how it came up either

Doesn’t care about the Rules, per se, but he will judge you for lacking common sense

“You know what, Derek? I’m writing you up just for being stupid. You could have at least put it in a paper bag.”

Organizes all of his events last minute, best attendance in the building

One day, he lets it slip that he has a 4.3 GPA

No one believes him until he actually shows them with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face

Tim Drake: The Invisible RA

Didn’t want to go apartment hunting so he applied for the free housing

Do you even have an RA? Does he even live here?

Apparently, he’s like triple-majoring or something, but like…no one knows what for. Or how. (He's really Undecided)

Does the bare minimum, but somehow still excels at his job

Everyone who sees him has a completely different description of what he looks like

One person starts the rumor that he’s a vampire, which is only made worse when someone sees him looking ghostly pale while chugging some weird red drink (Ultra Red Monster) in the middle of the night

Stephanie Brown: The Best Friend RA

One of those people who actually likes living in student housing so she applied

Gossips with everyone

“You didn’t hear this from me but-“ and “What am I, your mother?” are her most common phrases

Will probably get fired just because of how many university secrets she’s spilled

Keeps her door open at all times, her room is super cute too

One of her residents walks in and says, “You won’t believe what my boyfriend did this time!” Stephanie is already popping popcorn.

Will let you get away with shit if you make a good case for yourself

Damian Wayne: The Try-Hard RA

It’s a tradition in his family now, and he takes those very seriously, so he applied

A troublemaker’s worst nightmare

He will catch you drinking. No one knows how. Even his boss thinks it’s suspicious.

Seconds from a mental breakdown at all times of the day

Absolutely livid when the event he spent the least amount of effort on gets the best attendance (He just brought all of his art supplies to the lounge and taught people how to draw)

Writes incident reports like they’re addressed to the Pentagon

A resident comes to his door crying because her grandmother passed away, and Damian completely blanks on what to do so he lets her into his room and gives her a really long hug while she calms down, then he sits her down and lets her vent for an hour. A week later, she comes back and thanks him for being there when she needed it. It sticks with him for years.

#batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #batfam #robin #batfamily headcanons #dc robin #dc #tw death

[iireneleee]

astrology observation pt. 2

- im not a professional astrologer so please don’t take this post too seriously :) -

i notice that leo moons are really good at following instructions like they just get it

people who have venus conjunct mars in their natal chart tend to do sports including dance (and most of them are really passionate about it) they’re also the type to take PE very seriously HAHAH

sagittarius mars are the people that talk back to everyone and anyone without fear. i know many sagittarius mars natives that talk back to their parents, even their dads. they are always ready to risk everything during an argument.

knowing your charts sign ruler (sorry my bad idk the proper name for it :( 🫶🫂) is really important, I realise that people tend to relate to that certain sign more than anything. — the way you find out your chart ruler is by using your ascendant sign. example, my rising sign is in virgo. virgo rules mercury and my mercury sign is taurus hence taurus is my chart ruler. another example, rising in libra. libra is ruled by venus hence check your venus sign and whatever sign it is in is your sign ruler ~ leo > sun cancer > moon gemini + virgo > mercury aries > mars taurus + libra > venus sagittarius > jupiter capricorn > saturn uranus > aquarius neptune > pisces pluto > scorpio

those with mercury in eighth house either LOVE to flirt with others or LOVE when people flirt with them or both hehe…

whenever i have composite mercury in taurus with someone, our convos are great most of the time but when it’s just the two of us in a room hanging out and talking, it is super awk… idk why — composite

composite mercury in aries makes talking a very big part of the relationship and both talk to one another with A LOT of enthusiasm, they both become really hyper whenever they speak to one another — composite

the synastry overlay where venus is in the seventh house is overhyped i know, but it’s one of my fav overlays fr fr . the house person really enjoys expressing their love to the venus person + they find it very natural and do it instinctively. the house person also tends to like getting reactions out of the venus person and somehow they think flirting with them gets the best reactions out of the venus person HAHAH super cute — synastry

virgo moons are very calculating with their money, they tend to be those who don’t overspend and whenever they’re out with someone who overspends or is planning to do so, they’re the type to advice them otherwise HAHA

i know this is very heavily talked about + cliché but having your ascendant conjunct someone’s venus really makes the venus person think the ascendant person is good looking. honestly this placement is really cute because sometimes the ascendant person also thinks the venus person is good looking so idk it’s just cute hehe

I think having sag moon in composite makes the two very attracted to one another when they first met. not necessarily attracted to physics but maybe one another’s behaviour. I had this placement with a close friend of mine and it’s funny how we both questioned one another’s behaviours when we saw each other hence because of that we wanted to get to know one another LOL — composite

taurus moons have very weird or unique hobbies LOL idk maybe it’s just the taurus moons i know HAHAHA

made by: @iireneleee

hope you enjoyed this observation and found it at least somewhat accurate or relatable hehe :))

also do remember these observations may not be accurate for you guys as im not a professional astrologer so don’t take it too seriously💕💕

#iireneleeeastro💕 #astrology #astrology placements #astro placements #astro chart #astrology notes #astro posts #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations #composite charts #composite chart #synastry #synastry observations

[miniwheat77]

Brat pt. 2 (dbf!Captain Price.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, John being a gentleman 🥰, virginity loss, mention of body shaming, thigh riding (sorry if I missed any.)

“How has Y/N been lately?” John asks your dad.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. “Oh she’s been great, I’m not sure what was going on with her.” He shrugs. You were off at a friends house right now, it was just John and your dad. They’re in your back yard, making burgers for dinner on the grill. “Maybe she just needed out of the house.” He smiles. “Yeah maybe. I’m sure she’s going stir crazy being done with school and all that.” He laughs, flipping one of the beef Pattie’s with a spatula. “She’s been out so much lately.” He sighs. “Is that bad?” John asks. “No of course not, it’s just hard. She’s eighteen now yeah but she still had to abide by my rules. I just hate that she’s growing up. I don’t want her getting herself into trouble thinking she’s more mature than she actually is.” John is listening, choosing to let your dad vent versus talking.

“I mean.. even when she was a little girl, she always liked older guys. Like.. thirties and above. She’s never liked guys her age. And I understand. Boys her age are nothing but.. sex driven assholes. I just worry so bad about her walking into the arms of the wrong man.” He sighs. For a minute, John feels bad. Like he’s taken advantage of you. You seemed so mature for your age, maybe he’d missed it.

“I’ve always monitored her stuff. Cell phones, computer. Everything. Behind her back of course. Just to make sure she never started talking to anyone online or any of that but I stopped because she’s adult now, deserves her privacy n all that. I never found anything out of the ordinary.” He shrugs. “She’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” John shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I just worry cause it’s my kid. Even though her attitude kills me sometimes.” He laughs. John smiles. “She does got quite the attitude.”

Your dad shakes his head with a smile. "Sometimes she's real nice, a real good girl. Other times I just wanna strangle her." He groans. John laughs, taking a drink of his beer. "She'll get better mate, it takes a while. I'm sure she's just figuring everything out." Your dad nods. "Yeah. You try saying that when she's being a brat." He rolls his eyes. "Send her my way. Little military training wouldn't hurt" He laughs. Your dad smiles. "That's a great idea actually. Although with how mean she can get she might humble you a little bit. Got a bite just like her dad." He laughs. "Sure it's nothing I can't handle."

He laughs. Just then, they hear your car pull into the driveway, an awful squeak coming from your car as you come to a halt. "Fuck." Your dad grumbles. "What?" John asks. "I told her I'd look at her breaks last weekend and never got around to it." He sighs. "I'm not doing anything, I can look at 'em while you're at work." He shrugs. "Oh that'd be great, thanks John." He smiles. You step out the back door, smiling when you see the both of them. Sundress blowing in the wind. "Are we gossiping out here?" You smirk. "Yeah about you. John's gonna take a look at your brakes so you can quit bugging me about it." He nudges you. "It just needs new brake pads." You roll your eyes. "I'll find something else to bug you about just because you said that." You smirk. "Yeah. I'm gonna send you John's way when you’re acting like a brat. He'll get you whipped into shape." He winks. Patting your shoulder. Your heart falls into your stomach, and your dad passes by you into your house, John nearly spits his beer out at your expression. Your cheeks are bright red and your eyes are wide. "He meant.. military punishments. We were joking about it." He laughs. "Oh.. Okay." You breathe. You needed to get the hell out of there. "Bring your car over, I'll look at it." You nod your head, hurrying off to hide your blushing cheeks.

Your heart settles in your chest as you climb into your car, starting up the engine. You notice John’s garage door opening. You pull out of you driveway and maneuver your car into his, pulling into his garage until he tells you to stop. He closes the garage door behind you. “I already have the brake pads and rotors.” You fidget with your hands nervously, you’re alone with him again. “Alright, so this will be easy than.” He smiles.

He gathers everything he’ll need. Tools, car jack. He even had some extra oil laying around. Figuring he’d just do it while he’s working on your car.

As he’s working on it, he starts asking questions. Not easing into it, jumping in head first. “So. I’ve heard your dad mention more than once that you’re into older guys. There a reason?”

His blunt question sends crimson up your cheeks. “Uh…” you pause. “Because guys my age suck.” You breathe. “Well yeah, but there’s got to be a reason. Have you ever even dated someone your age?” He asks. “Yes.” You breathe. “That’s the reason I don’t like them.” You laugh awkwardly. “What happened?” He asks. “Um..” you shift uncomfortably. He emerges from underneath the car, he’d finished up already. He leans up against it, crossing him arms. You’re sitting on a bench by his toolbox. “Go on.” You sigh. “Tried to pressure me into having sex with him. I wasn’t interested.” John nods his head. “That’s it?” He asks. You groan. “No. He was controlling. Wouldn’t let me wear shorts, monitored my social media, told me my thighs were too big and that he didn’t like my stretch marks. And I know it could be all guys but older men have been much kinder to me than guys my age.” John smiles. “Sweetheart.. I hate to break it to you.” He adjusts his beanie that he’s wearing. “But guys will be nice to you no matter what if they want something from you.” His eyes travel to the sweet spot between your legs, noticing you shift yourself uncomfortably. He can see the way you’re sitting now, eyes filling with tears. He feels like an asshole. You probably weren’t ready to hear that.

“Not all of them. Especially if I don’t tell them that I’m a Virgin to begin with.” You avoid his gaze. He nods his head. “Y/N. You’re a sweet girl and I’m not trying to be a prick here. But all men have some kind of flaw, even your dad does. I can be mean when I don’t want to be.” He shrugs. “You have to find someone you tolerate the most, because we all suck.” He laughs. “I didn’t mean to upset you, darling.” He moved toward you, placing his hand on your thigh. “It’s okay.” You mumble. “I can be mean too.”

He smiles, looking down. “Did you only touch me because.. because you want to use me?” You look up at him. “No, no.” He breathes. “I gave you a bad example.” He sighs. “What happened between you and I Y/N.. it wasn’t right. I wasn’t right to touch you like that.” He chuckles. “I’m not right for you, you deserve far better than anyone like me. The reason I brought this up is just because I don’t think anyone will be good enough for you. You’re the perfect, pretty, bratty girl.” He smiles. “And you deserve the fucking world.” His hand is still on your thigh, he’s close to you. “John?” You look up at him. “Yeah?”

“You said what happened was bad..” he nods his head. “Am I a bad girl if I liked it?” You bite your lip. Your tone of voice, the way you’re looking up at him. It’s killing him. He hisses under his breath, the way you’re looking at him should not be allowed. It’s pure sin. “No. Because it feels good. It was wrong of me to put you in that position.” He breathes. You sigh. “I liked it.” You breathe. “I think about it all of the time, try to replicate the way I felt myself but I can’t even come close.” You whimper, pushing your hips toward the end of the bench, clenching your thighs together. His eyes travel down, seeing your reaction to just the thought of him alone. He turns away from you, he needs to get the fuck out of here before he does anything else. “You’ll learn. It’s best you figure out what your body likes best before you trust someone else with it.” He reassures you. You nod your head. “It’s been years and nothing makes it feel better.” You laugh. A part of you knows that you’re teasing him. But another part of you doesn’t realize just how hard you’re making him. “What do you mean?” He asks. “I.. I’ve been getting this.. tightness in my stomach. I didn’t know that.. it was.” You blush. “I didn’t know it was because I was turned on. Until I was talking to some friends at school a couple years ago and heard them talking about sex and what felt good. No matter how I touch myself, it just doesn’t feel right.” You breathe. “But.. when you did it..” you shift in your seat. “Changed everything.” You breathe. You’re a horny mess on his bench right now, and he’s doing everything he can to hold himself back.

He notices your dad pulling out of your driveway though the small window in his garage, off to work. Your mom had already left for her night shift job as well.

You were completely alone with John. For hours.

“What does it feel like?” You ask. Looking up at him. He moves forward, sitting next to you on the bench. Turning himself toward you. “What?” He asks. “Sex?” You chew on your lip. “For me? It’s amazing. It feels.. you know how I touched you? It feels like that but a hundred times better.” He breathes. “But for you? It’ll hurt. Because you’re still a Virgin.” He sighs. “Does it always hurt?” You ask. “No, just the first time. The second time may be a little uncomfortable. Your body just has to get used to it.” He explains. “How bad does it hurt?” You look up at him. “It.. it depends.” You tilt your head. Looking confused. “Depends on the size of your partner.” He avoids your curious gaze.

John had to clench his eyes closed so that the thought of you, whimpering as you take him down travels through the depths of his mind. “Would you take advantage of me?” You ask. “What? Of course not.” He breathes. You reach out, grasping his hand and pulling it into you. Setting it onto your thigh. “Y/N.” He breathes. His chest is tight. He hasn’t felt this riled up in forever, how on earth you’re making him feel like this is beyond him. It’s wrong, so wrong.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, John.” He draws his hand away from your thigh, pushing it up passed your cheek. Resting it there. “I was wrong. To touch you like that. I shouldn’t have done what I did.” He breathes. He can feel the frustration radiating off of you. “Please..” you mewl. “I can’t do it, no matter what I do.” You whimper. You’re breaking him. He sighs. Placing his hand down on your thigh. Sliding it up a little bit. “It’s wrong darling. I don’t want to take advantage of you, you’re just desperate.” He breathes. You climb up into his lap, breathing out as you straddle one of his thighs. “Shit-“ he breathes. You rock your hips into his thighs, whimpering at the friction you feel. He hisses at the warmth between your legs. He can’t keep it together anymore. Something about you using him to get off just sends him spiraling. He rests his hands on your hips, pushing your dress up onto your hips. He guides you into him, groaning out. “John..” you whimper. “Yeah?”

“I want to know what it feels like.” You look up at him. “What?”

“Sex.” You whimper. He holds your hips steady. Looking deep into your eyes. “Y/N.” He sighs. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. I’ll hurt you, real bad.” He breathes. “I trust you, John. I want you to do it.” You breathe. “You said so yourself, you wouldn’t take advantage of me.”

He sighs. “Of course not, but.. this is so important and it should be with someone you love.” You look up at him. He sighs at the look you have in your eyes, gleaming so bright, so full of trust for him. He feels like a creep for having such relations with you. He lifts you up, walking you inside of his house. He sits down on his couch with you still in his lap, looking at you. “I can help you out, but you should save yourself for someone special. Yeah?” You nod your head. He moves your panties to the side, rubbing gentle circles into your clit and you whimper, rocking your hips into his hand. He circles your wet hole with one of his fingers and pushes it into you. You grind down into his finger.

“So desperate..” He trails off, admiring you. You’re basically riding his fingers and he’s enjoying it, lifting his hand into you. “John.. please.” You whimper. “Baby.. you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He chuckles at your desperation. You look at him, wiggling away from him. “What are you doing?” He asks. You slide down onto your knees and his eyes widen when you slide your hands up his clothed thighs. He rests his hands at his sides, letting you do this even though he knows he shouldn’t let you. “Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” He smirks down at you. You glare up at him, that same bratty attitude showing through.

John never thought he’d see the day, you’re pouting because he won’t take your virginity.

You nibble at your lip nervously as you unbutton his jeans, they needed to be washed because he smelled like gear oil and dust but something about him, dirty hands, messed up hair since he’d discarded his beanie somewhere between here and there. He looked messy and that’s enough to want him. Aside from the fact that he’s who he is. The first man that’s ever put his hands on you, drew fire into your skin and put it out with his cold touch. You’re zoned out as you work his cock from his jeans, thinking about that day on his boat. What he did to you. What he started. He lit a fire inside of you that day, made you crave him. You can’t sleep without thinking of him. Can’t eat without imagining him and his tongue and the way he devoured you like it was the tastiest meal ever put in front of him.

His fingers moving through you expertly, painting out the finest art, drawing the sweetest symphony from your lips and calming the harshest ocean brewing in your stomach with just a swirl of his tongue.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you reveal him to you for the first time and you’re realizing exactly why he’s said what he said.

You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.

But there’s some beauty in the unknown right?

You take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the tip, and his eyes widen. A gasp leaves his lips as you suck gently on the tip, taking him further and further with each bob of your head. “Huh- oh fuck-“ he breathes. Hands clutching at the cushions of his couch. You’re nervous to do something wrong, worried about hurting him.

The lewd noises coming from your lips as you suck him harder, his eyebrows raising as you cup his balls, showing them some attention too. He lets his head rest back onto the couch. Wrapping a hand in your hair, guiding you to take him further down. “You’re so pretty.” He breathes. “Such a good girl, could fool me with how good you are at this.” He smiles, knowing his praises egg you on more and more. He rests one of his arms over the back of his couch and when you look up at him, pretty eyes, gleaming with need. He’s got his answer.

He pushes you off of him, nearly busting right then and there with that look in your eyes. He lifts you up, helping you wrap your thighs around his waist. He holds you into him, only one arm wrapped around your back. He walks with you back into his bedroom. The walls are a dark grey color, silk sheets to match. He has dark curtains that keep the daylight out and he sets you down on the edge of his bed. He grasps the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. You don’t fully register what’s going on, but excitement settles into your stomach because a part of you knows what he’s going to do to you. “I can’t imagine fumbling a girl like you.” He breathes. Pushing you back onto his bed. “I just realized through all of this I haven’t even kissed those pretty lips yet, such an asshole of me.” He breathes. He hovers over you, leaning into you and kissing you. He holds a hand over your throat, not putting an pressure against you but holding you still as he attacks your lips with his. You’re a mess, turned on and desperate for him. His facial hair scratches you, leaving a permanent burn behind as he pulls away. He cups your breasts through your dress, massaging them gently. He kisses your bare chest, moans slipping passed your lips. He pushes your dress up onto your hips, pulling you forward so that he can help you take it off. He missed the sight of you, exposed to him. “If I would’ve been your age, had a chance to be with a girl like you…” he trails off, shaking his head with a laugh as he pushes your legs apart. “I would worship the fucking ground you walk on darling, and you’re telling me they’re out here- insulting the sexiest parts of you..” he kisses down your stomach, the attraction you feel for him is overwhelming, you want his hands on you.

You want him between your legs.

Your wishes are granted as he presses a gentle kiss to your clit and a whimper leaves your lips. At long last, he’s finally touching you again. Panties pulled to the side.

It doesn’t last long. He laps at your entrance with his tongue for just a couple minutes before he’s pulling away, licking his lips. “If I do this..” he breathes, moving himself up the bed once more. “You can’t take it back.”

You nod your head. “I know.” You whimper. He sighs.

He’s an awful friend. An awful person.

He pushes his jeans down the rest of the way, pulling your panties down your legs, discarding everything between the both of you, in the way of him taking what’s his.

“I’m a little out of practice. I have nothing..” he breathes. “It’s okay.” You look up at him.

He spits in his hand, slicking up the tip of his cock. Pushing your legs up on him and brushing the tip of his cock over your opening. Your heart is pounding in your chest, pumping blood through you at a rapid rate. “I’m going to hurt you okay? You just have to get through it once and I promise I won’t hurt you anymore.” You nod your head. “I trust you John. It’s okay.”

He’s such a scumbag. He’s got to be at his lowest. He shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing.

But he can’t pull away from you. He’s too far gone.

He pushes the tip of his cock through your folds and you clutch hard at the bed as he starts to slide himself into you more. He’s surprised how easy it is despite the way you’re clamping down around him. “Fuck.. you’re so wet pretty girl.” He gasps. A whimper leaves your lips as he slides deeper, a sob leaving your lips as he wraps his arms tight around you and burying himself into you in one deep thrust. You’re shaking a little bit, he knows it hurt. Knows how uncomfortable you are. Tears are gathering in your eyes, filling up the channel of your tear ducts. “It’s okay darling. It’s over.” He breathes. He nudges your cheek with his nose, kissing you as an attempt to soothe you. You’re panting hard, biting your lip.

That’s it.

His cock is nestled inside the tight cavern between your legs. He’s taken it.

He slides out of you, and you clutch at his blanket, whimpering out. Tears stream down your cheeks. “It’s alright baby. You’ll get used to me. Just relax.” He kisses you again, rocking his hips into yours. He’s going slow, letting you get used to the way your walls wrap around him. It takes a few minutes but eventually, you’re pushing him away from you slightly, widening your legs so that you could see him, all of him. His cock is wet, a little bit of your blood from the tear but mostly your arousal and you’re watching him slide into you.

“Oh my god-“ you whimper. “I.. I feel so full.” You cry. He chuckles at your reaction. “Yeah.. you’re taking all of me.” He smiles. Pushing your thighs up so that you could see him disappear inside of you, burying his cock to the hilt. “Fuck.. I can’t believe.. you just took my-“ you moan out when he picks up his pace. “Your pussy is so fucking sweet.” he shakes his head, in complete disbelief that someone could feel this good. He speeds up his pace even more, you can’t keep yourself together at the feeling of him. You’re a mess, moaning out, whimpering his name. Just like he imagined you would be. He rests his hand on your lower stomach, holding you steady. He lowers his hand, pressing the pad of thumb against your clit, smiling at how swollen it is. You’re so horny, so needy for him. He rubs gentle circles into it, knowing how easy you’re going to get overstimulated. “You’re such a brat.” He chuckles. “My spoiled little brat. Can’t make yourself cum so you have me do it all for you.” Your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back but you’re smiling. “Are you complaining?” You giggle. “Not at all.”

A gasp leaves your lips as he pushes down on your clit harder. Feeling your hips squirm away from his touch. He feels you clench down around him, and he knows you’ve got to be close. He tilts his head back, adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard, he’s got a death grip on your thighs. “John!” You mewl. “That’s it baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” He breathes.

Those 4 words, you’ve heard in every filthy movie you’ve ever seen, never imagined that you’d ever hear them for yourself, from John Price, your dads best friend of all people. You’re tumbling over that abrupt edge, coming around him with the loudest moan you’re sure you’ve ever let out. You’re clamping hard down around him. Pussy pulsing around him. It’s the hardest you think you’ll ever cum, vision going white. John shivers at the tightness of you, barely remembering to pull out of you as he reaches his own orgasm, gritting his teeth as he coats your stomach in thick white ropes of his cum.

He relaxes, taking in deep breaths. “Fucking hell.” He pants.

He smiles, turning his head away from you to hide the way he blushes at the sight of you. Watery eyes, swollen lips. Your cheeks are flushed red. You look completely fucked out.

He lays next to you, calming himself down.

He helps you get cleaned up and holds you close to him for a few hours, talking about random things until your eyes are growing heavy. “How about we go get you tucked in Ah?” He smiles. He’s let you borrow one of his shirts, and you swim in it. It smells like him.

You nod your head. “I want you to stay but.. we’d both fall asleep and your dad would freak out.” He laughs. You smile at him. “Damn right he would. Thank you for working on my car John.” You smile. He leads you out to his garage once more. “No problem. If it has anymore issues just let me know. I’ll take care of you.” He kisses your lips one more time before you climb inside. He opens the garage door and you pull out, giving him a small wave.

His touch lingers on you, traces of his fingers where they permanently etched into your skin.

This was a night you’ll never forget.

@sonyanightmare @kou00 @queen-ilmaree

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #john price x reader #john price

[safetycar-restart]

KINKTOBER DAY THREE: TEMPERATURE PLAY [POLY!CHARLES/Pierre/READER]

NOTE: this is an nsfw imagine with sub!charles, sub!Pierre and Dom!reader. This fic also contains mommy kink. If you’re under 18 or uninterested, then scroll past. If you like what you see, then come check out the rest of my blog!

This work is part of kinktober, where every day of October we discuss a different kinky concept. More ideas surrounding temperature play will be discussed on my blog, so if you have any thoughts feel free to stop by!

The idea starts because Charles starts to show more interest in the more intense side of things. For ages charles didn’t want anything to do with the intense scenes you did with Pierre, choosing to just be your soft little sub, getting fucked hard by you and Pierre but never being involved when you really pushed Pierre.

And that was great! It worked so well with the three of you, but slowly Charles wanted to be more involved in the more intense side too. Make no mistake, he’s always gonna be your soft little bunny. He’s never ever going to want to be tied up and whipped the way his Pierre likes, but he starts to be involved! He’s a good boy! So he should help you!

Of course you don’t even consider getting him involved in the very intense things you do with Pierre, knowing that he’d freak seeing Pierre like that.

But… you can’t exactly just say no. Not when he looks so excited! He clearly had to work himself up to asking, sounding so shy but so optimistic. He wants to be good!! Good for his mommy and his Pierre!!

So you come up with an idea… a temperature play scene.

They’re one of Pierre’s favourites, and it’s so easy for Charles to be involved there without it being too intense.

Charles kneels patiently next to the bed while you tie Pierre up, tying his arms and legs to the bedframe so he’s spread out and completely exposed. Then you blindfold him, giving a quick kiss and checking in before telling Charles to join you on the bed.

You start off by teasing Pierre with his just your hand, running your fingers up and down his chest, randomly scratching your nails without warning. He lets out little gasps every time you do, his cock slowly hardening as he gets more and more turned on.

Charles watches Pierre, his eyes landing on Pierre’s cock and you can practically see his mouth watering. He wants to suckle on it so bad!!

“Mommy?” Charles asks, “can I?”

He doesn’t specify what, but he’s looking directly at Pierre’s cock so you know what he wants. And well, how can you deny such a cute little bunny?

So you tell him he can, but that he can’t make Pierre cum yet. Charles pounces instantly, settling between Pierre’s thighs and taking as much of his cock into his mouth as he can. He licks and sucks it like it’s the best lollipop in the world, clearly enjoying himself.

Pierre pulls at the restraints and groans, clearly not having expected Charles to start sucking him off. You let him enjoy it for just long enough for him to get lost in the feeling and then drop an ice cube onto the centre of his chest. He hisses, body twisting to try and get the ice cube off him but he only succeeds in making the cold water run down his side.

You swop positions with Charles then, giving Charles the bowl of ice while you play with Pierre’s cock. The rule is simple: you get to edge Pierre for as long as Charles still has ice to play with. Once all the ice has melted, Pierre gets to cum.

You edge him without mercy, and the combination of the coldness from the ice cubes Charles is using all over him and the feel of your hand on his cock drive him insane. He’s a shaking mess by the time charles has run out of ice cubes, begging in broken French and English, tear tracks running down his cheeks from behind the blindfold.

You let Charles make him cum, letting him swallow it all up.

#kinktober tag #poly!piarles #sub!charles #sub!Pierre #cl #pg #nsfw. #Charles Leclerc #Pierre Gasly #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine