#strangers say the darndest things
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Masterlist
"Masterlist? What is that?"
"it's mostly a record of the writings here, feel welcome to have a look and see if something catches your eye" she turns around and points to the the book detailing where every book or pages should
"last time I updated it was may 9, so it can get a bit behind but usually everything is in here"
Genshin impact
"a magical land where people are able to handle elements as they please, a bit too fantastical for my liking but she seems to enjoy writing them"
There is a folder on the table and named with perfect cursive handwriting "Holy offsprings". It seems it's a collection of small works
A bouquet of feelings
Sometimes actions have unexpected consequences. Good thing Aether knows how to fix this one.
Ancient language au
A long forgotten tongue slips away from their lips to the ears of people who believe it's their god's language
Read my lips
"to suddenly be left in a world where I couldn't read anything... Such a torture"
Universal language
After alhaitham found your ability you were almost forced to work for the academia translating works, some misunderstandings arise
Great sage au
A foreign face settles as a country's sage and tries to help, even when it isn't all that easy
Prologue
As a former player the new great sage had a nice base of knowledge to stand on plus some new tools
Such a backstabber
His duty with sumeru has gotten him into a trail leading to you and believes you to be a danger. For some reason the proof he has reminds you of something… wait a minute.
Over tea
Luckily after cyno recognized them as not guilty they were allowed to return to their position and enjoy their new found love for tea. Seemingly the nation's calmness has lead to people allowing themselves to fantasize about their bosses’ love life
Everything feels so beautiful
"this one fits in the timeline but I'm not sure if even the writer knows how or when..."
Secret husband timeline
Be it because of secretiveness or nobody believing it was possible nobody found out about your marriage with the iudex until someone says it straight up. Oops
The first two are two different beginnings
How the iudex sleeps
"why did she choose for him to have a resemblance with otters? Even then it's a really sweet domestic piece"
Melusines say the darndest things
sometimes children can slip up and accidentally say more than desired. In this case the journalists are very happy about that.
Drabbles
Would they peel an orange for you?
"mhmm... I wonder why she chose oranges, I think she likes better pomegranate. Wouldn't it be more fitting 'would they open a pomegranate for you?' but I guess at the end it's the same intention"
Do they know if you wear silver or gold?
"I only ever wear this uniform, I'm not really sure how important that kind of stuff is"
Types of baby daddy
"my father has been a 'baby daddy' many times, including my and my sisters' conception and many of our half siblings. Despicable man. He even runs as fast as the thunders he throws so he is hard to catch"
Your ex in my body or me in their body
"seemingly this question is used to pick a fight with your lover, I'm not sure why would you, though"
Ideas
"some blurbs or unrefined concepts, maybe in the future they can become something more polished"
Npc sagau
"suddenly strangers and your loved ones start acting as mindless zombies and only certain people seem to wake up but you are unable to know when... It sounds stressful doesn't it?"
Living together (npc sagau)
"it would make sense for them to live close by the only people you can speak with"
Obey me
"It's a kind of undefined academic environment in hell? I heard from other visitors that highschool and university are difficult and sometimes unenjoyable but isn't this a bit too on the nose? Either way seemingly she could romance demons, angels and a... Regular human? I'm sure she did not... My goodness"
Night bringer saga
All this happen during night bringer but aren't particularly connected or in a particular timeline!
Love language: acts of service
After being temporarily transformed into a demon you find that there are some gaps in your knowledge of demon features care but Solomon is very happy to help
With the firstborn's ring I made you mine
A before bed chat with Solomon leads to you showing some concerns about wearing the ring of light so openly and he offers himself as a scapegoat
Love language, gift giving
He is old enough and famous enough that he can spend some money on superfluous gift and extra candies as long as you smile at him
The sorcerer's demonic firstborn
Nobody is exempt from Mother nature's cruel whims, not even the all powerful sorcerer that defied death. Some friends of yours help you with your dream
Twisted wonderland
"another fantasy setting that happens in a world where people can use Magic and a school? I'm seeing a pattern with her likings. Just tell me she wrote for a prince or a future king or- it's just a guy with white hair again? No just because he is sleepy doesn't make him different, writer..."
Forced fairytale
The tale of the sleeping beauty is one he holds dear, be it because it's related to his great grandmother or his dorm, malleus can't help but feel like silver and the prefect would be such a perfect modern retelling.
#masterlist#genshin impact#sagau#sagau x reader#alhaitham x reader#cyno x reader#grand sage au#ancient language au#drabbles#npc sagau#npc au#obey me#obey me shall we date#solomon x reader#obey me solomon#twisted wonderland silver#silver x reader#twst silver x reader
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There's a lot to be said for Electric cars. They're heavy, somehow unreliable, massive hunks of steel and toxic chemicals by design AND necessity, sometimes very fast, serve as status symbols for the insufferable, and are known for intermittently ramming into people and other cars. When you really look at it, the electric car is as distinctly American as Apple Pie, the Chevy Small Block, and smiling at strangers on the street.
Yet many commentators overlook the most American aspect of electric vehicles: Tax Evasion.
See, despite the hefty annual registration you pay to put a sticker on your license plate each year, the real road tax for most automobiles is exacted on each gallon of fuel burnt. It's only fair, as heavier cars tend to use more fuel, meaning the vehicles that are harder on the roads and the people that use them the most will on average pay more to repair them.
You can see now how EVs throw a wrench in that equation. Not only do they weigh as much as half a dozen Honda Citys (INCLUDING the Motocompo foldable scooter), but they don't use a lick of pump gas while auto-piloting backwards off the nearest overpass.
The Federal Government is doing its darndest to make sure EVs make up the bulk of daily commuters within the next [TIMEFRAME GOALPOST MOVED TO TEN YEARS PAST CLIMATE APOCALYPSE], and local municipalities are facing the prospect of repairing roads on reduced budgets while these ion-fueled freeloaders erode the asphalt further with their multi-tonne zero-emission smugness machines.
Previously I was the one with a near-local monopoly on evading fuel tax, thanks to my advanced E85 brewing setup made from a lapsed whiskey still I found in the woods and my personal recycling enterprise (stealing used cooking oil from fast food greasetraps, fighting the raccoons for access to the greasetraps, training the local possums in counter-raccoon tactics, fighting rogue possum factions for access to the greasetraps, enabling a cycle of inter-mammalian violence so that I can fill the tank on my $200 300D wagon).
Now the municipalities are talking about "reporting mileage" and "Paying $400 yearly for infrastructure upkeep." This is what EV owners would define as an "Externality," another very American ideal.
In the long run this will probably help me. Most of my odometers are broken, and even if they aren't, the average mileage on one of my cars is 15 miles, 17 if you count the time I had to roll it backwards down a hill and push it into my garage. It's just the principle of the thing, I say, fending off another well-armed possum militia dead-set on acquiring my remaining catalytic converters.
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Connor Kenway Drabble
A/N: Y'all?...*sigh* When I tell this man has taken me h o s t a g e??? It's been two weeks and I still haven't managed to completely flush this obsession out of my system. I mean, I'm not exactly complaining, I think it's rather astonishing actually. Anyway! Here's a fluffy lil' drabble I thought up and wanted to share with y'all. I hope y'all enjoy! Oh, and if you'd like to send in any Connor related asks/comments, please feel free to share! 😁
Connor has such a gentle, caring way of speaking to those close to him.
It’s well known that he can be a bit abrasive when dealing with strangers, mainly men, but no one can ever say that he’s without compassion.
He’s always especially cautious of appearing or sounding brutish around you. (Unless, of course, he’s having to handle bidness. But you absolutely do not mind.)
Even though you’ve reassured him time and again that you could never see him as anything other than nigh perfect, he still feels self-conscious of how big he is compared to how small and, to him at least, delicate you are.
Connor doesn’t ever mean to belittle you or come off as condescending; he’s well aware that you can take care of yourself, and he admires you greatly for that.
But now that you’re his, he can’t help but feel this soul-deep tug that calls for him to shield you from everything and everyone. He wishes nothing more than to hold you close and never let you go, no matter how impractical he knows that is.
The man, though he may be 6’6 and bench 300 on a weak day, touches you so gently and with such consideration that it could almost cause you to shed tears.
He’s never once raised his voice at you, and he’s the most excellent caregiver when you’re sad or feeling down.
Granted, he may not always know how best to handle every situation as it relates to you, but he tries his darndest, and despite not always being sure, he seems to have a natural ability to care for others.
You try to tell him this, and though he always becomes flustered by the praise from you, he simultaneously brushes you off, saying that he doesn't do anything special, just what comes naturally.
(If only you could make him understand that even that is amazing in itself.)
If someone asked, you would describe Connor as secretly having so much love to give, and also as someone who subconsciously wants that love returned.
You like to think he’s found what he’s looking for, in you and in the other inhabitants of the Homestead.
For the past little while, you and Connor have been taking impromptu pie baking lessons from Corrine at the inn. Rather unsurprisingly, Connor is very good at it.
You? Well…you try your best.
Although, with Connor’s assistance and Corrine’s instruction, you’ve gotten exponentially better, and now your pies look presentable and taste fairly good.
At least, according to Connor.
Other than that, you’ve secretly taken to asking Ellen to teach you how to mend, so that, should the need ever arise, you’d be able to tend to Connor’s robes and other clothes.
Your lessons with her have been going along swimmingly, and you’re even starting to feel confident enough to learn how to sew next.
It’s just that Connor does so much for you, and for all of the homesteaders, you want to be able to do little things for him as well. Simple stuff that he’d appreciate, and tasks that he wouldn’t have to worry about being undone.
He spends most of his time at home now, but he frequently makes trips to New York and Boston, to train his current assassins and recruit new ones.
Before he leaves and as soon as he returns, he’s always extra sure to give you a warm hug and a loving kiss meant to say either “I love you and will miss you while I’m gone” or “I love you and I’m so glad to be back with you” accordingly.
Though he’s never gone for long, his lack of presence is always felt heavily across the manor and the Homestead as a whole.
It’s nearly a celebration every time he comes back, so integral a part is he to your way of life.
But even though you’re there to help him as he goes along, and even though his workload has considerably lessened from his younger years, you can't help but worry that Connor still feels burdened and, ultimately, unsatisfied.
You wonder if he wants children; after all, he looks so fondly upon little Hunter when he volunteers to watch over him for Warren and Prudence, and he was especially ecstatic when Norris and Myriam announced they were expecting.
He’s never expressly said anything to you about it though, and while you’re not opposed to the idea, you consider that perhaps he’s been waiting for you to breach the subject.
He probably doesn’t want to appear as though he’s pressuring you (he’s real considerate like that).
One day, as you’re removing a freshly baked apple pie from the oven (that you successfully and proudly managed to make all on your own), you hear Connor enter through the back door. You call out to him, but to your utter surprise, there’s no answer.
You can hear his footsteps continue, and eventually they begin to recede up the stairs to the second floor.
Carefully and quickly covering the pie so that it could cool, you wipe your hands and slowly begin approaching the stairs. You call out to your husband again, but no answer.
You try your best to remain quiet as you ascend the stairs and once you’ve reached the top landing, you search through the rooms until you find him, sprawled out on the bed in his old room, seemingly fast asleep.
‘Ah, so he was just so exhausted he probably didn’t hear me.’ You smile at the thought.
Slowly approaching the sleeping man, you place a gentle kiss on his forehead, fondly carding your fingers through his lush hair.
In his sleep, he groans and mumbles something that vaguely sounds like your name, before unconsciously leaning further into your touch and settling once more.
Your fond smile grows wider at his adorable behavior, and you carefully crawl into the bed alongside him, snuggling up into his side.
He smells of fresh pine, rain and patchouli, very earthy and musky.
It’s a pleasant scent, one that you oft find yourself associating with him.
Taking a moment, you study your husband’s currently soft features as he sleeps.
Connor is a very handsome man, with deep caramel skin and rich chocolate hair. His cheekbones sit high beneath his skin and his jaw is sharp and chiseled. You can’t see his eyes, but you are easily able to recall how they shine a warm, comforting carob brown.
His lips, parted slightly with each breath, glisten as they always do, and you find yourself tempted to place a kiss upon them.
Your concerns from before still weigh heavily on your mind, and by now your pie should be sufficiently cool, but for now, you find yourself content to just lay here with the love of your life and bask in his calming presence.
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Walt Disney Animated Pictures Studios from Worst to Best-Part Five: The GREATEST Films
Salutations, random people of the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck! I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!
Now we’re getting into it with this Walt Disney Animated Pictures Studios ranking! This time, we’re talking about the movies that are simply the greatest. The films that I’ll always be in the mood for, what with them being fun, creative, and, at times, simply beautiful. Not the best just yet, but these next few movies are far from being the worst. And we’re going through them by starting with a movie that I’m sure some of you are surprised that it’s ranked this high.
#20. Hercules-If you’re hoping for a grand, epic retelling of Greece’s greatest mythological hero…you’re not going to get it.
But if you’re looking for a cartoonish comedy with a decent amount of heart and some insanely catchy music, you’ll get that in spades.
There’s not much to say about Hercules other than that. It’s a fun movie, but it’s one that’s definitely not for everyone. I certainly had a blast, but I can understand why someone else wouldn’t. The stars just don’t line up for them.
#19. Tarzan-I feel like I can talk forever about what I like in Tarzan, and, really, there’s quite a bit.
Tarzan’s journey to discovering who he is and where he belongs is easy to sympathize with and is engaging to see him come to his own inclusion.
Jane is a decent love interest, who is bubbly and excited to learn about everything, while also getting a chuckle or two out of me when necessary.
Kala is up there as one of the best Disney moms, doing her darndest to support Tarzan, letting him know that he always has a place in the family, and especially a place in her heart.
Clayton is a decent villain, whose motivations are simple but his personality is what wins me over as this impatient meathead that clashes well with Tarzan. Also, he’s a contender for having one of the darkest moments in Disney’s history.
Speaking of dark, there’s some effective and tense peril in this film, with three exciting set pieces that gets the blood pumping as Tarzan tries to survive a predator, whether it’s a leopard or a Clayton.
I could go on forever, but I also don’t want this list to go on for too long. Besides, while there’s a lot to love with Tarzan, there are issues that hold it back.
Tantor’s blind hatred for Tarzan is pretty messed up. He bullies Tarzan from infancy to adulthood, never giving him a chance for no reason. If there was a scene that showed that he hated humans, I might understand, but as is, it’s harsh as hell.
Terk and Tantor are not as funny as I remember them. Honestly, I’m pretty sure they were funnier in the TV show. But here? Eeeeeeeeh, they have moments…or A moment.
Tarzan’s close proximity to Jane can get…creepy. Very creepy.
Not to mention that Jane’s conclusion in the end is pretty rushed, as it’s hard to believe that she’ll make it after the short time she’s spent with Tarzan.
And then there’s the Phil Collins songs. Whether you love ‘em or hate ‘em, you gotta admit that it would have hit harder to have the characters sing, not Phil Collins. Imagine if Tala sang “You’ll Be in My Heart” or if Tarzan sang “Strangers Like Me.” Wouldn’t that be more powerful, even if it was by a smidge?
Again, I could go on and on. And maybe I will one day. But to keep things brief, I’ll say that while Tarzan is far from perfect, the things that work well work enough where I’ll be willing to sit through what’s imperfect just to get to the good stuff. And, as I’ve said, there’s quite a bit of that.
#18. Atlantis: The Lost Empire-Stop me if you’ve heard this one: A heavily underrated Disney film that tries to be more mature and adult compared to the others. Sounds familiar, right? Well, this time, I can certainly say that it is one of the more effective attempts. The story is fairly simple as it’s an expedition that heads out to find the lost city of Atlantis, but the simplicity helps add to the main theme of preservation and how taking from lost civilizations for the “pursuit of knowledge” isn’t as noble as people think. Sure, there’s still a princess that needs saving and that kind of shows Disney’s true colors, but is that really worth complaining about? I mean, look at everything else this movie does right compared to that.
It has some incredible animation aided with a comic book-like art style that leads to some incredible shots and expressions. The character designs are also top-notch, saying everything you need to know about them just by the way that they look…though one might be a little offensive to a particular group. I’m not sure.
I AM sure, though, that the comedy that comes from these characters are pretty funny, with Vinny in particular getting the most laughs with his dry wit and line delivery. And as for character development, Milo’s is pretty solid, going from meek nerd to brave hero in a convincing manner. At least, to me he does.
If there’s anything worth complaining about, it’s the pacing, as the movie feels like it’s on fast-forward at times. Things go by so fast that there’s hardly time to breathe once we get to the main voyage.
“Also this movie is directed by Joss Weadon.”
Oh, right…he’s a piece of s**t and we hate him now…Yikes.
Still, if you’re willing to look past that (and maybe some racism?), you’re in for a fun time. Not a flawless adventure, but still pretty entertaining.
#17. Big Hero 6-I feel like the best way to look at this is to not see it as a Disney movie. Instead, it’s more like a mid-tear Marvel movie. It has an end credit scene, a Stan Lee cameo, and a solid mix of comedy and action, and all the makings that cause Marvel to be an easy box-office smash…Unless you’re Morbius.
Though, the fact that this one is animated gives Big Hero 6 more of an edge. I always feel like animation is the best way to bring superheroes to life because, when animated, the larger than life powers can be explored to their fullest potential and the action can be much more grandiose. Whereas live action is limited to what an actual human can do and has to rely on CGI…which is just animation with a cooler name. So I do think that Big Hero 6’s animation helps it be better than even the most mediocre of Marvel movies just for the spectacle it’s medium is allowed to be. That and the characters, primarily Hiro and Baymax. The other characters are more about being supportive towards Hiro rather than having actual arcs, but their personalities are entertaining enough to offer a good time. But Hiro is the true star of the show, going through the motions to learn that there’s a right way to process grief than doing…what he tries to do. And Baymax steals the show, being equal parts funny and wholesome, crafting an endearing relationship with Hiro that genuinely tugged at the heartstrings at certain points.
Unfortunately, like most Marvel movies, the worst thing about it was the villain. I won’t give much away, but trust me when I say that everything wrong with this villain is summed up in “That was his mistake.” He at least looks cool, but…that’s about it. The villain doesn’t hurt the movie too much, but I feel like the reason why I’m saying that is because I’m a fan of both superheroes and animation, meaning that this film checks off all the best boxes for me. So, if my bias is showing, then I guess that’s my mistake. Still, I’d be willing to argue that Big Hero 6 is always going to be a fun time for me.
#16. The Emperor’s New Groove-If there’s one word that describes this movie perfectly, it’s, “iconic.” The jokes, the characters, and even the facial expressions all line up for a movie that NO ONE will be able to forget. I mean, this is the movie that gifted us with Kronk. KRONK! The funniest and most quotable character in all of fiction! Not just in Disney, but in fiction.
The Emperor’s New Groove might not be as grand as other Disney films, or even as epic as its original concept, but that’s a bit of an unfair judgment. Yes, there are some movies better than it, but The Emperor’s New Groove is still pretty great in a vacuum. Kuzco’s arc into becoming a better person is handled well, his friendship with Apa is endearing as it is believable, and Izma makes for a fun, if not insane, antagonist that adds to the whole package that is an entertaining film. It might not be the objective best, but it is pretty fun. And who am I to knock down a movie for being fun?
#15. Zootopia-Once upon a time, I would consider this movie to be in the top best Disney films, and for good reason. It has stellar animation that makes the characters seem 2D with a 3D coat of paint, some great comedy, and two characters with an entertaining dynamic and adorable relationship. And, on top of all that, Zootopia also tries to have a solid message about prejudice. Some say it’s a bit preachy, but to that I say, “LOOK AT THE WORLD WE LIVE IN!” A six-year-old African American boy got arrested for picking flowers off a man’s lawn while waiting at the bus stop! No s**t it’s preachy! We need this stuff hammered into our skulls if s**t like this happens!
(And that story is true, by the way. Look it up.)
As for something I do agree on, the predator and prey analogy can be a bit iffy. Predators, despite what the movie preaches, are biologically designed to eat and kill prey. That’s just nature. So to have predators be the representation of every minority ever while preys are the ones that take advantage of them can be..rough, to say the very least. I will say that I do appreciate that even the main character has prejudices of her own, and even tries to work through them, meaning that not everyone is absolved from this issue. So, while iffy, it does come from good intentions. I won’t say Zootopia is the perfect movie to talk about race and prejudice, but it’s at least enough to transition kids into the discussion. It could have been done better, but it also could have been done way worse.
(Remember that shock collar idea from the original plot? Yikes…)
#14. Pinocchio-Pinocchio has two jobs: Scare the crap out of kids and break the hearts of adults. If you missed your chance to be afraid of donkeys and whales as a kid, then you'll at least learn great sadness when you see characters like Pinocchio and Geppetto being in distress as you get older. Pleasure Island remains one of the darkest places Disney has ever created, with Monstro the whale being pretty threatening-looking. As for stuff like Pinocchio crying when in a bad situation or Geppetto being so worried about what happened to his son, it tears you up inside, I'll say that much. But aside from the solid emotional beats, Pinocchio also has a decent story. Pinocchio learning to be a real boy is handled well enough, making his reward feel earned after the hardships he went through and the bad choices he improved himself on. Maybe the movie tortured him a little too much, but, again, this movie has two jobs: breaking hearts and scaring kids.
(Don't smoke or drink, kids. Otherwise, you'll turn into a donkey and get sent into salt mines.)
#13. Cinderella-Cinderella is the movie I picture when I think of Disney. It's a charming retelling of a classic fairytale, fit with wonderful animation, beautiful singing, some pretty genuinely funny comedy, a sweet happy ending, and, hey, a decent princess. Cinderella is still a woman who needs mice of all things to save her, but her personality is still one of the best. She's kind and compassionate to everyone around her but still smart enough to know she's in a bad situation and witty enough to call some people out on it. It's mostly the cat, but it's better than nothing. Cinderella may not be a Moana or a Rapunzel, but at least she didn't eat an apple from a stranger like a naive child. The one thing that actually bugs me is the Prince, who's more of a plot device than an actual character. He's pretty forgettable and nothing like that himbo I've heard so much about in that straight-to-video movie that's apparently good (I'll take your word for it). Still, this is a classic movie, and I'd be dreaming if I put it any lower.
#12. The Little Mermaid-Like Cinderella, The Little Mermaid is a movie that comes to my mind when I think of Disney. Primarily, it's when I think of the point when Disney reached the Disney Renaissance. Every movie before it had a notable charm with the occasional fluctuations in quality, but none compared to The Little Mermaid. The animation's much grander, more fluid, and more expressive than past Disney films, all being a spectacle to see. What's also a spectacle is the music. Every song is catchy as all forms of hell while also giving me goosebumps at times. When Ariel started singing "Part of Your World," I remembered what's so enchanting about these movies. And we haven't even gotten to the characters yet, with each one being entertaining in their own way, especially Ursula. She's yet another villain that's both funny and scary, but where past Disney baddies attempted to get on her level, Ursula's the one who perfected the role. The only real problem would be this movie's prince and princess. Ariel at least has a fun personality of being obsessed with the human world, but Eric is...uninteresting. Bland. Devoid of any unique character traits other than wanting to marry a sixteen-year-old. By the way, Ariel's sixteen. Just...think some of you should know that. And I wouldn't have issues with how boring Eric was if he also wasn't the main goal for Ariel. She's willing to go through a lot of danger for this boring man who she knows nothing about. Which isn't something kids should look up to. Still, I love this movie for everything else it does right. It's fun, spectacular, and, at times, even beautiful. Everything I look for in a Disney movie.
#11. Beauty and the Beast-"BeLlE eXpErIeNcEd StOcKhOlM sYnDrOmE! HuRr-HuRr-HuRr-HuRr!"
There, I've made the same stupid joke everyone else made. Let's move on.
Beauty and the Beast is the first animated movie ever to be nominated for best picture at the Oscars, and...Yeah, it's pretty damn good. The characters are fun and charming, the songs are both visual and auditory spectacles, and the movie does something no Disney film did before it. It gives personality to both the Prince and Princess. While past princesses did have a personality, their princes were as dull as a plank of wood. Here, it's different. Belle is an intelligent lady who knows when to be brash if the situation calls for it, and Beast is a savage beast who slowly and convincingly learns how to settle down his...beastness. The one thing that doesn't really work is the development of their romance. If there's anything the movie could benefit from, it would be a longer runtime dedicated to showing more of Belle and the Beast spending time together to make it more believable that they fell in love. But, at the same time, this movie is clearly going for that "fairytale brought to life" feeling, which the romance, as is, still works well for. I guess it all depends on whether or not you want Beauty and the Beast to be more of a movie or more of a fairytale. And while I would personally choose a movie more than a fairytale, I can't really complain here. This was a beautiful film that deserved its nomination.
But it wasn’t the best. None of these movies are. A lot of them are worthy enough to be contenders, just couldn’t make it to the top ten. And you’ll see why as we finally talk about the BESTDisney movies…Tomorrow.
#walt disney animated pictures studios#worst to best disney#disney hercules#disney tarzan#atlantis: the lost empire#big hero 6#the emperor's new groove#zootopia#disney pinocchio#cinderella#the little mermaid#beauty and the beast
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My coworkers say the darndest things (names redacted bc this is the internet):
CW: brief mentions of sewerslide, EDs, mental health, kidnapping, implied past abuse
M: I hate how water resistant cinnamon is. I’m like “I’m mixing you” and it’s like “no you’re not”.
L: We don’t have apple juice? Ooooo, they’re gonna fucking kiiiiiiill you.
F: I come in [to work] when my body tells me to.
L: if you’re gonna die, do it when M’s on duty.
L: But I don’t want to make fish tonight, M, goddamnit!
M: Wanna see my meat?
J: I’m not gonna burn myself, I’m a professional.
J: *proceeds to burn herself*
F: I volunteer to be sacrificed.
L: H, do you want me to paint your shed now or later?
I: you’re late.
H: *flips him off*
I: you’re not even sick are you?
H: *lowers mask and coughs on him* I’m not sick?
I: you’re so gross.
H: Fuck you.
Me: if you could have any superpower in the world what would it be?
H: the ability to like assess the pros and cons of every decision so I don’t make the wrong ones
Me: I think that’s just called impulse control and it’s not a power, you just don’t have it.
H: being out at night by yourself, like… someone could try to grab you or hurt you-
Me: and this is why we don’t go to strangers houses or give random people our address.
H:
F: what?
Me: that was directed at her
F: H… I’m mildly concerned
H: but I-
Me: you want it, I know.
H: … I want it (something off of Craigslist)
M: *incessantly hisses at me*
H: *lists her traumatic experiences*
Me: H, it’s 11am.
H: I have no self-preservation skills. I’ve gotten into random strangers cars.
Me: the fact that you’re alive might actually make me believe in God.
*Love the Way You Lie plays on the alexa*
Me: my toxic trait is a thought this was a love song growing up
H: it is a love song
Me: H-
H: sorry, I was kidding… mostly
Me: *sighs exasperatedly*
H: *laughs*
H: normal people love both of their kids, you wouldn’t know that but-
Me: is that bc my dad doesn’t love me?
H; yeah. I mean do you think your dad loves you?
Me: well- no…
Me: would your want for something ever surpass logical safety thinking?
Me: *makes eye contact with H*
Me: no, I know your fucking answer, I was asking I.
H: *laughs*
I: I mean I wouldn’t give someone my address or go to a man’s house alone…
H: don’t kill yourself if you have kids.
Me:
H:
Me:
H: oh shut up rchl that was a long time ago!
L: wHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH IS HAPPENING!?!?!?!?!?
T: I’ll fix your schedule after breakfast.
Me, after checking my schedule at lunch and seeing that it’s not changed: I guess I’ll just go fuck myself then.
H: 🤨🤨🤨
L: why haven’t y’all eaten today?
Me: I have depression.
H: same, also I’m sick and have an ED.
L:
L: I don’t know how to talk to you guys sometimes.
*two very irritating residents sit in H’s section*
Me: Do you want me to get them?
H: Hm?
H: *sees them* yes.
Me: I’ll do it if you say please.
H: yes, please :)
H: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Ew.
H: Okay, a girlfriend?
Me: Also ew.
H: Are you asexual?
Me: … yes.
H: Cool.
H: I’m a Scorpio.
#work stuff#working#coworkers#coworkers saying shit#mildly concerning#this is just how we speak#there’s so much worse#old folks home#waitress#cinnamon#we are insane#queue me singing “I need a psych ward’#we are depressed and anxious#way too open with each other
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Today a middle school boy got very excited on his bus & started calling all his friends over to point out the window at ME
He kept shouting, "She looks like Barbara Holland! She looks JUST LIKE Barbara Holland!"
I'm gonna take that as a compliment
#SaveBarb
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4 yr old talking to me in line at the county fair: Remember! If a horsey tries to kick you, you just gotta tell ‘em.... “Stop!”
#sorry this is so funny to me#that a kid's solution to a hypothetical dangerous situation is to just tell the horse to stop it like they're a misbehaving child#and that they think a complete stranger ordering a corn dog absolutely needs this advice#kids say the darndest things#later on down the line this kid's gonna tell someone to let the stranger smell your hand first and never get behind them lmao
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WHITE CHRISTMAS : J.WOOYOUNG 18+
» j.wooyoung x fem!reader
» fluff, slight angst, smut, 18+ dni if minor
» language, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding/impregnation kink, fingering, marking, body worship, praise, begging, dirty (absolutely filthy) talk, petnames used (angel, baby, darling), wet dreams, pseudo-handjob?, slight humiliation kink if you squint, grinding/dry humping, masturbation, edging, p*ssy slapping (he does it exactly three times), multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, messy sex, oh they’re painfully in love and painfully unaware of it
» part of the 12 days of christmas collab with @uhmingi and @choijjongho!!
» wc 11.0k (._.)
» summary - in a week of babysitting two children together just before christmas, you think love might have slipped its way in, among other things.
“have you thought at all about what you might want to do for christmas?” you ask, stepping over the threshold of the door to greet your friend inside. said man reaches up to scratch the back of his neck upon hearing your question — a telltale sign that he completely forgot about the matter — and the sheepish grin wooyoung flashes right after only confirms those suspicions. “woo! this is the fourth time i’ve reminded you!”
“i know, i know!” he protests, dodging your poorly aimed swipe at his shoulder. a huff passes through your lips, and all you can do is shake your head back at him before stepping fully into his neatly decorated home. “in my defense, i’ve been busy with babysitting these days. hongjoong and seonghwa aren’t supposed to be back for another four days, and the youngest is a fucking menace.”
as though on cue, a shrill screech echoes through the entryway. the sound of loud thumping footsteps quickly follows, then a thud and oof of air escaping the small child. it only takes three seconds for the crying to start. maybe you will have a little mercy on your best friend after all. that scream-cry hybrid is far from charming and you can feel an impending headache just from standing in the hall.
“haseul! i told you not to run in the house without shoes on! socks are slippery!” wooyoung turns to rush for the crying child, mirroring your sympathetic and strained grin with a sigh of his own.
you don’t bother watching him attempt to soothe the child; instead, you slip your shoes off beside the door and step further into the house. your goal is to make it to the kitchen without any interruptions, intent on snitching a few snacks out of wooyoung’s well-stocked fridge while he’s distracted because that’s just part of best friend privileges. that’s your intent, but the second you reach the archway into said room, another miniature demon appears out of nowhere to scare the living daylights out of you. the elder of seonghwa and hongjoong’s two menaces, the one who takes after hongjoong so much so that it’s mildly terrifying. now, the eight-year-old stands before you and blocks your way into the kitchen just to stare at you.
“haha, h-hi – hi there, eunjoo,” you stutter out through a thin-lipped smile.
“hong daddy said not to talk to strangers,” she echoes back.
“we’ve known each other for five years, eunjoo!”
“hong daddy said you’re a stranger.”
“oh my god, of course he did,” you scoff under your breath. the girl before you must catch that because she narrows her glare a little but you pay her no mind and simply try to slip around her to get into the kitchen. she lets you past without issue, although you almost feel an impending sense of doom looming behind you as she follows you.
“this isn’t your house. this is uncle woo’s house. why are you always in his house?”
“we’re best friends, eunjoo! just like you and haseul are!”
“haseul isn’t my friend. she’s my sister. i’m forced to be nice to her because hwa daddy said so.”
“hah, you kids… say the darndest things sometimes,” you grit out. you’re fairly certain that if hongjoong told her to, she could possibly break your arm and push you down the stairs, which is quite a terrifying thing to imagine. maybe it’s time to get hongjoong one of those new coffee makers he likes for his home studio… just to appease him and hold off his little demon a bit longer. “anyway, uncle woo and i are best friends. that’s why i always come over.”
“does he go to your house too? do you have a house?”
“i — what does hongjoong tell you?!”
“okay, okay, i think i put haseul down. she’s sleeping at least. no more tears or screaming — oh, hi eunjoo. i didn’t know you were in here.” wooyoung stops dead in his tracks when the little girl reels on him. she simply breaks into a wide smile and giggles like a maniac upon seeing him, rushing forward to wrap her arms around his legs.
“uncle woo! can i watch toothless again? i miss hwa daddy, and he told me to watch it when i miss him!” bright eyes blink up at wooyoung, and unlike you, he seems weak to the stare because he huffs out a tired sigh and wipes a hand down his face.
“yes, yes, eunjoo, go ahead. you know where the tv is.”
eunjoo skips off with a laugh of success, nearly tripping over the lip in the threshold as she passes into the living room. you’re fairly certain wooyoung’s life flashes before his eyes when she stumbles. the color doesn’t return to his face until she’s safely escaped the kitchen and settled on the couch.
“hongjoong and seonghwa owe me extra for this, i swear to god.”
“she interrogated me! asked if i even have a house! she’s been in my house, woo!”
wooyoung stifles a laugh at that, only adding to your current offense. the urge to hit him returns, but you push it down by crossing your arms over your chest. as seonghwa would say, “hitting people in the presence of my children is a bad example”, and honestly an angry seonghwa is far more terrifying than a passive-aggressive hongjoong. (wooyoung still brings up the time when seonghwa grabbed him in a chokehold until he passed out for trying to cheat in mario kart).
“i think i offended hongjoong in a past life or something and his daughter is a poltergeist sent to torture me.”
“i think we watched too much x files at the last sleepover,” wooyoung counters, stepping forward to slip onto one of the bar stools. you settle down next to him with no snack in hand despite your earlier intention to steal some of his food. the silence that drapes over the two of you is nothing uncomfortable — with eunjoo’s movie settling in as background noise alongside the low rumble of the freezer, you two simply bask in each other’s presence while the silence lasts because wooyoung seems to need that peace of mind while it lasts. at least while haseul and eunjoo are distracted and settled.
“alright, what’s the real reason you called me over?” you ask after a few minutes have passed and wooyoung pulls himself together some.
“please save me from these children, y/n, i can’t do it alone.”
“oh, you trickster!”
“they’re evil, y/n, you can’t leave me alone in this house with them!” he hisses back, quiet enough to keep eunjoo from overhearing.
“you tricked me into coming over then trapped me here with you. to take care of children! is that any way to treat your best friend?”
“please, i asked yeosang but seonghwa has some unnatural ability to overhear my phone calls and he called to say that yeosang can’t watch them with me because he’s ‘incapable of using a shower without breaking it and thus cannot watch over children’.”
“did he break another shower?” you interrupt, effectively cutting wooyoung’s train of thought short.
“what? no, that’s beside the point, y/n. i’m asking for a favor! just a few days of helping me out! it’s barely a week, and you’ve got spare clothes and stuff here from our sleepover nights.”
“children, wooyoung. do i look like i know how to take care of children? there’s a reason why i’m not on hongjoong and seonghwa’s list for babysitting duties!”
“they trust you as much as they trust me, and you know that’s a fact,” wooyoung retorts. he pulls himself up to sit straight on his stool. the pleading gleam in his eyes is almost enough to break you. “please? as a christmas gift?”
only jung motherfucking wooyoung would go for such a low blow.
“you’re playing dirty, wooyoung.” you lift a finger and point it directly at his face. it’s the nail in the coffin though, and you can’t say no to that even if you really tried. “fine, but if one of them vomits on me, then that’s it.”
“have i ever told you how much i love you?” wooyoung clasps his hands together over his chest, smile splitting his face practically in two, and you can’t deny how much you adore seeing that smile grace his lips.
“not enough times.”
“i’ll say it every damn day this week for you, i promise.” wooyoung reaches out and clasps a hand over your forearm. “i can wake you up with kisses and everything for the full effect.”
“let’s not go that far, i don’t know where your lips have been.”
↢ ♡ ↣
in theory, moving into wooyoung’s home for a week to help babysit is a very good idea. the two of you have a solid friendship and you’re used to spending the night at each other’s houses when doing the bare minimum. so to take care of kids while spending time together should really be no different than your usually scheduled hangouts.
the thing you did not take into consideration was how much fucking work kids are. you have been at wooyoung’s for a grand total of seven hours and you already want to put your head through a wall. haseul cried for an hour when she woke up because she didn’t want the oatmeal that wooyoung made for her, then she cried an hour later because she left her teddy bear back at home. thus, wooyoung did the smart thing and make a quick drive to go get it, but in turn he left you with the two demon children. and in the forty-five minutes he was away, haseul managed to spill a cup of yogurt down the front of the dishwasher, eunjoo stubbed her toe on a door frame, and you nearly put tin foil in the microwave because you were so distracted by the chaos around you.
“it could have been worse,” wooyoung mutters as he crashes down beside you on the couch.
“worse?” you hiss, trying not to disturb the child who is now sleeping against your chest. haseul mumbles something in her sleep, then tucks her face further into your neck without waking up. you count that as a win. “where’s eunjoo?”
“um… i thought she was with you?”
“how did you lose an entire eight-year-old?”
“i was cooking dinner! shit, i bet she snuck in the kitchen to steal a nugget.” just as quick as he sat down, wooyoung is back on his feet a moment later, bolting around the couch to dash back into the kitchen without another word. if he wants to call boxed mac and cheese with a side of dinosaur chicken nuggets ‘cooking’, you’ll let him believe it if it means happy (and quiet) children.
you heave a deep sigh to prepare yourself for the inevitable chaos before pushing up to your feet and following wooyoung’s path into the kitchen. haseul latches her little legs further around your hips to keep steady as you move. you simply let her for the time being because it means no tears, and no tears means no sobbing.
as wooyoung predicted, eunjoo is stood in the kitchen, now at the man’s side by the stove.
“you two look like a married couple,” she states, far too loudly for your liking.
“excuse — eunjoo, your sister is still napping! please keep it down,” you hiss back under your breath. you go so far as to cover one of haseul’s ears in the hopes that it will keep her from waking up.
“married, huh?” wooyoung snorts over the pot of mac and cheese, then throws his head back in a silent laugh. “i guess you could say that.”
“where’s my ring then, jung wooyoung?” you huff in response.
“hm, maybe i’m just looking or the perfect one. you ever think of that?”
“taking your sweet time with it then!” you say over your shoulder, heading over to the dining table once you see wooyoung pull his pot off the stove.
“watch out, sweetie, pot’s really hot, yeah?”
“uncle woo, when did you two get married? i don’t remember ever going to a wedding with daddy.”
eunjoo is nothing if not persistent when she gets her mind set on something. you set haseul down in one of the chairs — the one with the booster seat of course — then comb her hair back out of her face as her eyes peel open.
“it’s dinner time, haseul. are you hungry?” a hopeful smile plasters itself across your lips, one that silently begs for no post-naptime tears. wide eyes blink from you to the table then over to the kitchen where wooyoung and eunjoo are. her lower lip wobbles ever so slightly. “uncle woo made mac and cheese!” you blurt in a desperate attempt to keep the tears from falling.
wooyoung — ever the savior — comes in at that moment with a plate full of food to set on the table, along with the steaming pot of mac and cheese in the other hand.
“that i did! and dino nuggets! hong daddy said those are your favorite, seulie, are you hungry?” he announces, setting the plate down at the center of the table. you stand up with a sigh.
“here, give me the pot, i’ll serve some bowls in the kitchen.”
“it’s hot, i’ll take care of it.”
“at least let me do something!”
“can’t i take care of you too?”
you pause where you are, halfway to the kitchen where all the silverware and dishes are with wooyoung at your back and a steaming pot of mac and cheese between your bodies. you aren’t sure why but something about that simple question along with the whine to his tone makes your heart clench tight in your chest.
“hwa daddy says that cooking is a love language!” eunjoo pronounces from beside her sister at the dinner table. wooyoung’s eyes remain on you, lingering and pleading with a touch of pink dusting the balls of his cheeks.
with a defeated nod, you step to the side to let wooyoung move past you and go further into the kitchen before you yourself go sit back down with the children. when you settle back in the hardwood chair, you take a moment to look over the counter to where wooyoung is now pulling out bowls and a spatula.
love isn’t a foreign concept to you and wooyoung. you can’t count on two hands the number of times you two have shared little platonic love confessions that border on perhaps being something more than that, but neither of you have acted on anything either. there’s a mutual understanding of some sort, one that no one has ever labelled or tried to label, and through it all you know that wooyoung loves you. it’s just a matter of deciphering what kind of love that specifically is. you don’t particularly feel a pull to do that yourself, nor has wooyoung made any sort of attempt to do the same either, so it’s safe to assume that he is as comfortable as you are with the way things currently are.
in rare moments like these, you find yourself really wondering where the line of friendship ends, and how far you are stepping into lesser-known waters that don’t feel as safe or familiar.
“mhm, there are lots of love languages, eunjoo!” wooyoung says as he scoops food into the bowls. it effectively breaks the terse silence that you weren’t paying all too much attention to. “mine is making sure people are taken care of. acts of service. that’s the kind i like giving out. it can be different for everyone, but most people like giving a certain love language and receiving another.”
“what does that mean?” eunjoo asks, wide and innocent eyes round as saucers as she strains to look over to where wooyoung stands.
“hm, it means — ah, help me out, y/n?”
“it means that people have different ways of feeling love versus making sure other people feel their love. like wooyoung said, for him, he makes sure people feel his love when he is taking care of them.”
“then how do you make him feel loved, auntie?”
“quality time.”
the words don’t come from you, and you hardly register how quick wooyoung is to speak.
“all she has to do is spend time with me to make me feel loved.” wooyoung glances over at you, pot still in hand with the spatula threatening to drip mac and cheese all over the counter, but he simply smiles at you from where he stands. it’s a fond grin, one that’s full of warmth and affection as always even if his teeth aren’t showing.
the statement is twofold though; you’re smart enough to realize that much.
“please? as a christmas gift?”
frankly, when it comes to jung wooyoung, you might have been doomed from the start.
↢ ♡ ↣
“god, where did eunjoo go? did we lose her already?”
“i’m here, i’m here!”
you spin on your heel to see the child hobbling over on her skates, pushed up onto her toes as she approaches the rest of the group near the barricade. if it were up to you (which it isn’t, clearly), the four of you would still be at home trying to be calm and relaxed rather than doing something as dangerous as ice skating. if hongjoong knew, he’d surely skin both you and wooyoung alive.
“are you sure you can go off on your own? maybe you should stick with wooyoung instead,” you say, clinging to haseul’s hand a little tighter as wooyoung finishes securing her laces and straps. his response comes in a huff and a snort, sidling over to your feet next to do the same with your skates.
“you know i take classes, right auntie? and hwa daddy teaches me?”
“right, yes, well, not all of us can have fathers who are former figure skaters, eunjoo. thank you for reminding me!”
“you’re nervous,” wooyoung mutters. his fingers close around your ankle, pulling it closer to his body as he tightens the laces a bit more.
“i’m nervous that we are going to have to call hongjoong and seonghwa to inform them that we are going to the emergency room with one of their children!”
“i think you’re more nervous about falling yourself.”
you’re of half a mind to kick a foot out at wooyoung, but that would send the blade of your skate right into his crotch, and fortunately for him you aren’t keen on taking away his ability to have children of his own.
“uncle woo will hold your hand, auntie!” haseul says with a little tug of her own to your fingers. “he won’t let you fall!”
“exactly!” wooyoung grins up at you from between your legs. it’s hardly appropriate for your mind to go the direction it does when there are children flanking you on every side. the slight tilt of his chin to the side, then the pull of a smirk on one corner of his lips and a dangerous glint in his eye that screams ‘i am about to make you regret our friendship’. “all you have to do is ask.”
“i’d sooner want you to roleplay as santa, you oaf.” you huff and look away from wooyoung’s cocky expression to stare back out over the rink.
“hey, i heard yunho tried that once and fucking loved it, okay? don’t knock it until you try it.”
“we are not trying that!”
“bad word, uncle woo! hwa daddy said that’s a bad word!”
“sorry! when we get back, you both can tackle me and put me in time out!” wooyoung yelps as eunjoo comes up behind him to deliver a sharp slap to the back of his skull. she follows it up with a tug to his earlobe, right over the stack of helix piercings that he has there, and in that moment, you see that stark resemblance she shares with hongjoong. terrifying, but in a small package. “alright, alright, that’s enough, what would hwa say?”
“can i go out on the ice now?” eunjoo whines back, ignoring wooyoung’s words as the impatience wins over.
“yeah, go ahead, hun. remember to watch out for other people when you’re going in though!” wooyoung returns his focus to your skates, and you’re left to watch the child hobble over to the lip of the rink to make sure she doesn’t faceplant immediately. “there, and you are good to go as well, y/n.” wooyoung leans back with a content sigh and beams up at you. “ready to go?”
“no.”
“not with that attitude you’re not. up, up! let’s get going!” your friend hauls himself to his feet using you as leverage, large hands coming down on your thighs and gripping the flesh tight as he pushes up. you really really try not to think too hard about it — not the way his hands slot over your thighs with enough force to push them apart or the way he grunts as he does so, because you truly can’t be thinking about that right now. you blame the adrenaline pumping through your veins already and the slight anxiety about getting on the ice, because all your nerve endings are fried and fragile at this moment. “you don’t have to ask, by the way. i’ll keep you up, okay?”
“promise?” you murmur, extending your unoccupied hand towards the man when he stretches to his full height. he slots his palm over yours and slips his fingers between yours.
“promise.” he must see the last strands of trepidation in your features because next thing you know, he’s leaning down into your space where you’re seated on the wobbly bench and pressing his lips to your forehead, right underneath the thick headband you snatched from him earlier this morning. “are you really gonna let an eight-year-old show you up out there?”
“she’s been trained by a professional!”
wooyoung laughs, the kind of laugh that makes his head tip back and exposes the pretty line of his throat, and the sound echoes a little in your ears even after it stops ringing in the air.
somewhere, your mind has the reason to think ah, i’m so fucked before your friend is pulling you and haseul over to the edge of the rink with an embarrassingly loud shout of eunjoo’s name.
“excuse me, dear.”
you shift to look back over your shoulder when the voice reaches your ears, pausing your own hesitant tiptoes at the lip of the rink just before wooyoung can pull you in. he stops when you do and turns as well, no doubt in search of the reason why you’ve stopped so suddenly.
“yes sir?”
it’s an elderly man who stands before you now, one who thankfully doesn’t have any skates on or anything, but he reaches out with a mittened hand to touch your arm.
“i don’t mean to intrude, i just wanted to tell you that you have such adorable children, and a beautiful family.”
“oh, we’re not — we’re just—”
“heh, thank you, sir! she did all the heavy lifting though, if you know what i mean!”
“wooyou—”
“but i’m sure you know how modest women can be, sir.”
“i most certainly do, that’s very true. i hope you can stay together for a very long time. my first wife and i didn’t make it past the four-year mark, but i’ve been married to my second for almost sixty-five years now.”
“i already told her that she’s stuck with me for at least fifty, but i guess now we’ll have to make sixty-five the goal, yeah?” wooyoung casts a wink your way, then swings your joint hands into your hip, nearly knocking you off-balance completely. he’s quick to steady you with the same hand though, and his eyes linger on you the whole time despite speaking to the man beside you. his stare is expectant like he wants you to respond as well, and even though your heart is clenching a little too tight in your chest, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the lie now.
“you’re stuck with me well past then, darling. rest of your life, remember?”
wooyoung sinks his teeth into his lower lip — a poor attempt to bite back his far too elated grin.
“always and forever,” he says quietly like the words are only for your eyes and not for anyone else in the large room.
you don’t voice it out loud, but internally you echo the confession with one of your own, watching the twinkling christmas lights reflect off wooyoung’s irises as he bids the old man farewell and tugs you onto the ice with haseul in tow.
↢ ♡ ↣
days one, two, and three of babysitting the two devil children were simple enough — your horrific experience at the ice skating rink where you did end up falling a grand total of six times while wooyoung laughed at you aside — and they were all days spent wholly in wooyoung’s presence. including at night after you put the children to bed, when you curled up in wooyoung’s bed with him on the other side laid out on his stomach and already drooling into the sheets. you didn’t expect there to be any issues with the arrangement seeing as this is something you have done with wooyoung hundreds of times in the past, and sharing a bed is easier than sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.
day four reminds you that jung wooyoung is, in fact, a man and does, in fact, have a dick in the most unfortunate way.
aka you wake up with his boner pressed firmly into your asscrack as he spoons you and snores right into your ear. the thought of suffocating him with his own pillow is present, and that argument almost wins you over completely when he starts smacking his lips next to your ear as well.
“get your dick off my ass, woo,” you mumble, reaching around your bodies to smack the side of his hip as hard as you can manage with the covers in the way. it earns you no response though, so your next move is to scoot further away from him as best you can. it would work too if not for the way he’s clutching your waist like his life depends on it, fingers nearly digging into your skin. your attempts to pull out of his grasp serve further distress, because your luck is nothing less than dogshit, and wooyoung tugs you closer to his body. obnoxiously hard dick digs further into your ass, and you are praying to every god out there for some sort of mental strength as you fight to think about anything else.
not your best friend’s dick rubbing against your ass.
not the size of said dick.
and most certainly not the feeling of his dick pressing your panties into your skin so hard that it’s giving you a wedgie.
if you didn’t know better, you’d say that he’s actively trying to push the material further.
“fuck,” you exhale into the pillow. you squeeze your eyes shut as tight as possible, sending a silent prayer up to the heavens that this doesn’t escalate further past this.
but again, your luck? nonexistent, of course, so when wooyoung rolls his hips against your ass in a way that’s far too sexual in nature, you can’t really say you’re too surprised.
“wooyoung,” you whisper a little louder like you’re trying to wake him up for real, but you can’t force your voice to go any higher than that. he rocks up against you again, harder this time, and a startled moan slips from your lips as you can no longer ignore the imprint of his cock rolling over your body.
“y/n…”
sirens go off with alarming haste as your name tumbles from his lips in response, and you go completely still in his grasp, hand clasped over your quivering lips like it will cover the sound that already came out.
what follows next is a quiet exhale, then a breathy whine as wooyoung’s hips return to their irregular rhythm behind you.
“oh my god,” you hiss through your teeth, hand still over your mouth in sheer shock at the situation that’s unfolding out of your control.
there’s a split-second decision where you deeply consider this: the choice between letting wooyoung get off on you while he’s sleeping or waking him up to tell him to go take care of his issue in the bathroom. you can’t say you’re all too proud of your choice, and the excuse that you’re simply too hazy with sleep to have clear coherent thoughts feels lip a cop-out as well.
in reality, you’re perfectly coherent when you reach around your hip to push the palm of your hand between your ass and the imprint of wooyoung’s cock that is currently straining against the only fabric separating your bare skin from touching his, a cheap old pair of underwear that he wears to sleep with nothing else on his body. it’s an uncomfortable angle at best, with how your shoulder is twisting to adjust to the stretch, but you manage to settle enough to keep wooyoung from giving you a worse wedgie than he already has given you. wooyoung’s hips keep grinding up against the surface you’ve provided like it’s nothing different from your ass.
it would help if he didn’t rock into you with enough force to make your whole body move in rhythm with his, and no matter how hard you try to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate the pressure building on your clit, nothing works. a shameful whimper makes its way out of your mouth.
“y/n,” wooyoung exhales again, breath hot on your ear as he speaks, and you suck your lips between your teeth to bite back the sound that threatens to follow. “y/n, y/n, f-fuck, you feel so good.” this night and this man combined are going to cost you all sorts of sanity, but it might already be a lost cause given how you shift the hand over your mouth lower, dipping past your shirt and slipping under the band of your underwear as wooyoung fucks the palm of your hand in a crude mimicry of the real thing. all you have to do is press the pad of your middle finger over your clit to get the stimulation you crave so desperately; the rhythm of wooyoung’s thrusts offer enough momentum to knock your finger over your most sensitive part like he’s fucking you for real, although you desperately try to not think too deeply about that even with the man moaning your own name down your neck all the while.
your arousal is humiliating enough, but to get off in such a simple and debase way is almost more embarrassing. wooyoung’s hand squeezes tighter at your stomach, latching onto your form however he can as he grinds down into your palm harder than before. the hitch in his breathy whines hints at how close he is to cumming, and there’s a pleasant thrill of warmth in your limbs that indicates you aren’t far behind. you tuck your chin to your chest as the high hits, a rush of pleasure that shakes you to your core that continues to roll over you as wooyoung pushes himself to his own orgasm. he cums quietly alongside you and pants into your neck without a care in the world. for a moment, there’s a startling realization that he’s breathing far too hard to still be asleep, but you don’t say anything out of fear — fear of ruining this stagnant moment of adrenaline and lust — so when his hips settle and his cock stops twitching against the palm of your hand, you slip back into your previous resting position with that same hand laid flat on the bed.
the thought of what the fuck just happened keeps you awake for several hours after, though.
you always knew that you loved wooyoung, that was never a question in your mind.
the matter of how much you want him is a new and daunting dilemma.
↢ ♡ ↣
when morning finally comes, a blessed and wonderful reprieve from the night before, you blink your eyes open to welcome the bits of morning sun creeping through the curtains. along with a marginally more horrifying sight of a small body silhouetted against those same curtains right next to the bed.
“jesus christ!”
wooyoung startles awake as you jolt further into his chest, and the haphazard movement also has your elbow careening into his cheekbone.
“ow, what the fuck!”
“i want waffles.”
“eunjoo—” you start, only to be cut short by a loud yawn coming from wooyoung’s side of the bed. his arm comes back to your waist under the covers, then you feel his nose pressing into your neck.
“we can get waffles tomorrow, joo,” he mumbles. the vibrations of his low, gravelly morning tone against your heated skin have you shivering under his touch, and the hand that is stretching across the bare skin of your stomach isn’t helping in the slightest. “let mommy and daddy rest a bit longer.”
your blood runs cold in your veins at those words. it’s a slip of the tongue surely and wooyoung can’t have possibly meant it any other way aside from teasing or joking, especially since eunjoo is not your child.
“my daddies would take me to get waffles!” eunjoo protests, little arms coming up to fold over her chest.
“sorry, sorry, auntie and uncle, baby, let auntie and uncle woo rest a bit longer,” wooyoung continues though the words are hard to decipher thanks to the slur to his tone.
“hmph, fine! i’m gonna rewatch toothless again while i’m waiting though!”
“alright, honey, go ahead.”
you watch the girl race out of the room with a giggle leaving her lips, and you think for a moment that your heart is running the same race given how quickly it’s beating inside your chest. and part of you wonders whether wooyoung can feel your pulse with how his face is pressed into your neck, but he says nothing of it so you imagine you’re safe for now.
“mommy and daddy?” you echo minutes after eunjoo has left the room. wooyoung is so quiet that you think he’s fallen back asleep on top of you.
“shut up,” he says at last, following the words up with a huffed sigh into your clavicle. “woke up thinkin’ my dream was real.”
“you dry hump my ass in the middle of the night then dream about us having kids?”
you are so tempted to ask that question out loud but you aren’t even one hundred percent sure that wooyoung remembers you doing that last night, and if he does, then he’s certainly doing a good job at pretending like he doesn’t. he can surely feel the dried cum in his underwear regardless.
“we should take them to waffle house.”
“should we?” wooyoung sighs. he finally moves though, pushing up on his elbow, and you roll onto your back to get a better look at him. the few rays of sun peeking through the curtains hit his tanned, golden skin. you stare perhaps a little too long at him — from the messy bedhead to the pretty mole under his eye to the one on the side of his lip — and you don’t think twice before bringing a hand to his face, thumb tracing over his lower lip and caressing that spot with so much fondness that it’s hard to say anything is just platonic with wooyoung.
you catch yourself moments later, but the impact of it is already hanging heavy in the air as wooyoung’s lips are parted with an expression of slight wonder. you pull your hand back, clearing your throat to disrupt the tension you’ve created, and wooyoung snaps his jaw shut so quickly that you can hear the click of his teeth knocking into each other.
“we should, yeah. hongjoong and seonghwa are supposed to come back tomorrow.”
“right. yeah.”
there’s an unspoken statement there — that although neither of you need a reason to be in each other’s presence like this, you won’t have much of an excuse after tomorrow when the kids’ parents come to pick them up.
merry fucking christmas.
on the bright side, both children are pleasantly on their absolute best behavior as soon as waffle house is mentioned, so herding them into wooyoung’s car after quick showers is easier than ever. if either of them notices that you and wooyoung aren’t being as cheery as usual, they don’t say anything, too enamored with the idea of waffles to pinpoint the source of the unhappy rain clouds over your heads. it’s almost amusing how that unhappiness only dissipates when the waitress comments on how cute “your kids” are.
“ah, they aren’t ours,” you correct, too tired to let the lie linger like it did the other day with that man at the skating rink. “we’re just babysitting for some friends.”
wooyoung’s arm wraps around your shoulders, and he doesn’t stop until he’s got your bicep clenched between his fingers.
“my wife here isn’t quite ready for kids,” he says through a broad smile. it delights haseul at least, who squeals and giggles at the display without knowing it’s for show. the waitress, as well, grins back and claps her hand against the pot of coffee in her other hand.
“you’ll be ready before you know it.”
and with that, she leaves your table after filling wooyoung’s mug once more. the childish banter resumes between eunjoo and haseul. you go back to picking apart your waffles with little enthusiasm.
wooyoung keeps his hand firmly in place, clinging to your arm like he’s afraid you’ll leave if he lets go. you desperately want to tell him that you won’t do that, you won’t ever leave if he doesn’t want you to, and you don’t have to leave tomorrow even if the kids do.
↢ ♡ ↣
the morning of what you’ve deemed to be your day of reckoning, it’s not wooyoung or a child who wakes you up, but instead the sharp and shrill ring of wooyoung’s phone on the bedside table.
you bury your face further into the pillow in an attempt to drown the noise out as the familiar warmth of wooyoung’s arm around your waist disappears. he groans and whines, slinging a string of curses into the air under his breath, but rolls over to grab the phone from its place anyway.
“fuck, it’s joong. y/n, can you answer? i don’t wanna hear his voice this early.”
you let out a huff only to flip onto your back and snatch the phone from wooyoung’s grasp with a drowsy side-eye that he promptly ignores in favor of burying his face into your stomach.
“good morning,” you mumble. a rush of shivers trails down your spine as wooyoung clings to your waist, large hands wrapping tight around your body. hot breath seeps through the fabric of your shirt to touch your skin.
“y/n? you’re not — why the fuck are you answering wooyoung’s phone?”
“geez, good morning to you too, joong.”
“are you two fucking in the same house as our children?!”
“hongjoong, oh my god!” you’re thinking the same words, but it’s actually seonghwa’s tone that brings them to life, somewhere in the background on hongjoong’s side of things.
“we’re not, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“ignore him!” seonghwa’s voice comes louder this time, and you hear a small fuss resound as the pair begin to bicker. your free hand moves down to comb through wooyoung’s messy hair without much thought, pressing it out of his line of sight only to find that he has his eyes shut again already. “hi, y/n, i’m glad to know that our kids are in safe hands.”
“hi, seonghwa. everyone is all in one piece, don’t worry.”
“really really relieved to hear that. and hongjoong is too, despite him acting otherwise.”
wooyoung must not be as asleep as you thought because he cracks a smile at that comment, lips twisting against your shirt.
“anywho, we’re on our way back right now. flight leaves in fifteen minutes — fifteen, kim hongjoong, so hurry up and pee beforehand — we should be back early afternoon. i’ll text as soon as we land, then when we leave the airport.”
“okay, sounds good. kids are still asleep for now. woo is about to get up and make them breakfast though.” wooyoung cracks one eye open to glare in your general vicinity but makes absolutely no effort to shift from his current position. “have a safe flight!”
“we will if i can get my husband on the plane in time. i swear to god, if you make us miss another flight, i’m filing for divorce!”
hongjoong says something in response to that, but it’s too muffled and quiet for you to hear, and the line goes dead seconds later so you don’t worry too much about it. instead, you toss the phone back to the bed and settle back against your pillow with eyes trained on the ceiling fan above your head.
“good morning,” wooyoung says after a few moments of silence.
“good morning,” you whisper back, glancing down at his face to find his gaze already on you. “can i help you?”
he smiles again but only one side of his face moves as the other half is still firmly squished against your body.
“don’t mind me. just enjoying the view.”
“cheeky.” you roll your head to the side to stare at the window. apparently, that’s not all wooyoung wants from you though — just a moment of your attention isn’t nearly enough for him because he exhales loudly and pushes himself up enough to press up into your personal space even more than before.
“don’t you know what you’re doing to me?” he asks, voice quiet in a way that sounds fragile and delicate. it’s not a tone you’ve heard from him before, and it’s far too serious for you to brush it off as another cheeky comment meant to tease you. “what am i supposed to do, y/n?”
“what?”
“what am i supposed to do — seeing you in my bed every morning, waking up with you in my arms, spending almost all of our time together for five days straight, with children who aren’t ours, i know that. i know they aren’t our kids but fuck, it sure felt like it this past week, didn’t it?” wooyoung sits back on his heels, extending the space between your bodies in favor of running a hand through his hair. “how am i supposed to just go back to normal like we didn’t play husband and wife?”
“woo…”
“we always play, don’t we? like a couple, like we’re together because being best friends isn’t enough to label what we really are. and i always thought that was fine and okay, that i wouldn’t need anything more than that because you didn’t. but how am i supposed to go back to that cat and mouse game after having you like this?” wooyoung motions between your bodies like it’ll do any good explaining what he really means, but you think you have a decent enough understanding. he looks more frustrated than anything else in this moment, and that’s an expression that lasts even as he slides off the mattress and grabs his clothes from the dresser. “i guess what i’m saying is… i don’t feel like playing anymore, y/n. if that’s what you want, then okay. i get it, and i’ll get over it. i’m fine with being your best friend, but i hope you know that’s not all i want. and i hope you know that calling you that isn’t nearly enough to describe what i feel for you.”
“what is it you want then?” you inquire, eyes watching the muscles in his back as he walks to the bathroom. he pauses to look over at where you’re still planted on the bed.
“i was dead serious about getting you that ring, y/n. at this point, i don’t think there’s anyone else for me out there except for you.”
his words ring in your ears long after the door to the bathroom falls shut behind him.
it’s a concept that you’ve discussed in passing, mostly as jokes and mostly when you’re both drunk off your asses and alone. “what if we got married?” because who else would you marry if not jung wooyoung? in the years that you’ve known him, it’s always been him in the back of your mind, the concept of a soulmate so overdone and faint that you refuse to label it as such, but sometimes — sometimes when you hear his bright laugh that never fails to make your heart clench in your chest, you really wonder how far out the idea of soulmates is. and if it’s not that, then it’s simply love, pure and unadulterated love that you never want to lose but are too afraid to ruin.
just saying “i love you” has never been enough to encapsulate the full range of your feelings for jung wooyoung though, and you’ve always known that he felt the same way. it’s the idea of changing something that’s so fundamentally ingrained in your beings that’s startling, and a horrid anticipation of fear boils in your gut every time you consider it. sure you can picture this future with wooyoung, one where you’re married, you’re his wife and he’s your husband, and you’re together with that materialistic label for other people to gawk at, but the hints of doubt that scream “what if this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back!” are all too present.
for now, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge downstairs with a new weight on your shoulders that you can’t shake easily.
↢ ♡ ↣
“bye haseul, bye eunjoo! have a safe drive home!”
“you too!” a slap resounds.
“you too!? are you an idiot now, kim hongjoong!?”
“daddy, no hitting!”
“should’ve left you in osaka by yourself — shh, shh, no haseul, honey, it’s okay, daddy isn’t really mad, okay? hwa daddy loves hong daddy very much, yes. i would never leave him anywhere, pinky promise.”
wooyoung snaps the door shut behind the family, eyes wide but a clear grin stretching his lips that threatens to turn into laughter.
“yeah, sounds like they had a nice, relaxing vacation together,” he says as seonghwa’s voice fades into nothing through the door.
“maybe they should consider a vacation from each other next time.”
wooyoung snorts at your comment, not bothering to mask the sound any longer now that seonghwa and hongjoong are out of sight and out of mind. the silence that follows is empty, emptier than any that you’ve had in the past five days, and it lets reality sink in without fail this time.
“did you need a ride back to your place or…?”
“my car is in the driveway, remember?” you offer weakly, only halfway unable to look up at him.
“o-oh, yeah it is, um, forgot.” wooyoung presses his lips into a thin line. “need me to walk you out?”
you shake your head without saying a word.
“cool, then i guess i’ll see you at the christmas party friday? you gonna be there?”
“wooyoung,” you say, not intending to sound so exasperated but it comes out that way regardless. “you can kiss me, you know. on the lips? i’ve kinda been waiting the better part of four years for you to finally grow a pair and do it properly.”
“i — hey, you’re no better! could’ve kissed me at any point in time and i wouldn’t have complained!”
“and i would have, i really would have, woo, i promise, i just—”
“didn’t wanna ruin what was already there?”
“took the words right out of my mouth.”
“only one person knows you better than you know yourself,” he murmurs, and again the fondness creeps into his tone without any filter.
“yeah, kim hongjoong. he knows me exceptionally well, it’s almost terrifying!”
“hey!? you were supposed to say my name, what the hell is up with that?” wooyoung lunges forward as you giggle, and your attempts to duck out of his grasp are completely fruitless once he gets his hands around your waist.
“do you love me?” you ask rather than answering his question, twisting around in his arms so that you can lay your palms flat against his chest. his expression switches to shocked in a split second, but once your inquiry processes, his face softens again. there’s a sheen to his eyes that looks fairly similar to tears when he leans forward and knocks his forehead against yours.
“always and forever.”
“and do you know how long i’ll love you in return?”
“shut up,” wooyoung mumbles, blinking furiously as you move your hands up to cradle his face.
“do you know?”
“always and forever,” he whispers against your lips, and you smile into the contact.
“you don’t have to be gentle. i won’t break.”
it’s permission in its purest form, both for what you’re hoping this leads to right in this very moment and also the future you want him to hold in his hands.
“don’t say things like that, y/n, i can’t help myself if you do,” wooyoung whines. he presses his nose further into your cheek, smile splitting his face as he lays a series of kisses to the corner of your mouth. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you, wife.”
“counting on it,” you sigh. he doesn’t make a show out of it at all; just hooks his hands around the backs of your thighs and hoists you up on his waist. you could complain about the way he’s taking you to that dingy old couch rather than his bedroom, but for now the couch feels right. good enough because where he takes you isn’t all that important when you’ve got the unspoken promise that this will happen again and again and again, probably on every surface of his house as well as yours.
“never wanted to fuck you more than i do right now, fuck.” the admission comes out through gritted teeth as wooyoung drops you to the couch cushions without preamble, and a silly little thrill is rushing through you when he moves to slot his body overtop yours.
“kiss me please?”
his answer comes in the form of that — a sweet, chaste kiss that’s just lips at first, one that’s long overdue in its meaning, but it doesn’t linger like that for long once wooyoung’s tongue starts prodding at the seam of your mouth. you grant him access as your hands are moving for his shirt, fingers colliding with his as you both move to do the same thing. you only part for mere seconds, enough to get his shirt off then yours, and he rids you of your bra in a grand total of three seconds before he’s moving for your sweatpants and underwear right after. there’s a rush to your movements that almost makes the whole act seem like a maddened craze of eroticism, but the fervor with which wooyoung keeps kissing you brings you back to the intimacy and adoration behind it all.
“wanna worship you, every inch of you, want you so fucking bad.” wooyoung pants against the front of your neck, teeth raking red streaks over the skin. he sits back on his heels to take you better and encircles your torso with his arms only to bring you onto his lap for better access to your chest. “y/n, my darling, my angel, my love, god, i love you.”
wooyoung pauses his verbal adoration to lay his lips across the freshly exposed skin before him, and it’s only so that he can suck skin between his teeth until it blossoms with reds and purples.
“i love you, wooyoung, so much.” you grip his head tight in your hands, fingers almost digging into his scalp as you thread them through his hair. when his hands begin to wander, your back arches into him, and an airy gasp falls from your lips. “want you to have me, want to be yours in every way, please make me yours, woo.”
“how do you want me, angel? i’m yours, use me however you like.”
“i want you inside, woo, i want you inside me.”
wooyoung exhales a laugh against your body and traces the heated skin with his lips.
“anything for you, anything and everything.” he presses you back to the couch, laying you out and kneeling between your legs with so much reverence that it almost feels a sin to see him look at you in such a way. then he’s moving to stand, dropping his pants and underwear in the same moment, and finally letting you see the full glory of his length.
“no protection, please?” you know you won’t have to argue that much with him on this, seeing as you are already privy to one of his fantasies thanks to a wet dream, but it still feels heady to voice that desire and see how his eyes darken as his pupils dilate. he clambers back onto the couch and slots himself back between your legs. the way his hands fumble to grip your legs would be amusing if not for the rush of arousal it pumps into you.
“be a good girl and keep your legs spread so i can breed you properly then.”
you’re on the precipice of absolute desperation, almost to the point where you are prepared to beg him to fuck his dick into you with no preparation, but you aren’t stupid, not wholly in the very least, and taking someone his size would be asking for a trip to the emergency room at worst.
your head tips back into the armrest when he trails two fingers through your folds, teasing your slit while hiking one of your legs up onto his shoulder. he’s got you almost bent in half already, another little taunt of what’s to come when he finally fucks you open on his cock, and just the visual of the angle has your walls squeezing around nothing.
“so good and ready for me already, you’re made for me,” he murmurs with lips on the inside of your knee. you whine, voice hitching when those two fingers slip into your needy hole and push your walls open in preparation for something much bigger. “wanna make a mess of you, my angel. ruin you, see you cry on my cock, god i want you in every way imaginable.” he takes his other hand to reach for yours, eyes blazing as he leans over you further and bends your body into a new angle. the eye contact feels like he’s lighting your skin on fire, and it’s almost too much for you to handle, a weak thrashing of limbs as you clench around the fingers inside you, but he doesn’t stop even for a second. his fingers fold around your palm and tug upwards until he’s got your hand against his face and nose pressed into your touch. “i’ll take care of you. be good for you. make sure you don’t want for anything.”
“wooyoung,” you whimper and curl the pads of your fingers into his cheek.
“let me hear you, baby, wanna hear every noise you make.” he stretches his fingers apart inside you, spreading you as far as he can, and it elicits a moan louder than the ones before. your back arches with the sensation, only blocked by the way wooyoung has you bent like a contortionist, and it prompts him to fuck his digits into you with a newfound passion, one fueled by your cries of pleasure. you’re certain it’s all sheer nonsense, but reason has truly left you in the face of pleasure, a heady euphoria that builds and builds until you’re on the brink. the pressure is so intense you could cry legitimate tears, mouth already agape in a silent cry, but right as it reaches the tip of that mountain, wooyoung slips his fingers out of you and robs you of that high.
“wooyoung!”
“hm? wanna cum?” he bends over you, nudging your cheek with his nose as you fight to catch your breath.
“please, please, i was so close!” the feeling is already dwindling back into hot coals, and you writhe a little under wooyoung’s weight.
“you didn’t say you wanted me to make you cum. should i make you cum?”
“stop being a b-brat, woo, please, please, i wanna cum! make me cum!”
“should i?”
the flat of his hand comes down on your clit. you startle, an unexpected moan tearing through you, and you throw the back of your hand over your mouth as a choked sob spills out too.
“yes, yes, come on.”
“hm? i can’t hear you when you’ve got your mouth covered like that, darling.” a second light slap to your cunt, again over your clit, and the tease of the sensation you crave so badly is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “how do you want to cum? on my fingers? just me hitting your clit like this? split open on my cock and pumped full of cum? or should i pull you up to my face and eat you out until your thighs are shaking around my head?” wooyoung’s hand drags over your face, pulling your arm down and letting go so he can tease a line down to your pussy once more. “as i said — say the word and it’s yours, baby.”
“j-just wanna cum, please, stop making me wait.”
“ah, ah, ah. you have to tell me what you want. how am i gonna know what you want if you don’t tell me? can’t you tell me just this once, y/n? just wanna know how best to please you, you know that.” the pout that folds wooyoung’s lips is enough to make you gawk at the sheer audacity of the gesture if it weren’t followed up by a third slap of his fingers over your cunt.
“fingers! fingers, please, wanna cum around your fingers then your cock as you’re fucking your cum into me!”
wooyoung tips his head back and laughs loud and clear, fingers moving to fill your pussy again, and you barely have time to recover before he’s curling them deep inside you.
“can you cum for me? let me see you fall apart, baby, i’ve been so good for you.” his thumb grazes your clit as his other digits rub along the inside of your walls, and that’s what makes you finally tip over the edge you craved so badly. the earlier tears of frustration spill out with the feeling, leaking down into your hairline as he rolls his fingers in and out of your throbbing cunt until you’re writhing under his touches. he’s speaking to you through it, lips moving nonstop as he pulls you through the dregs of the orgasm, but it’s all white noise in your ears. you’re vaguely aware of how you’re gripping the wrist of the hand that’s still overstimulating you, fingers clenched so tight that your knuckles have bled white, but even then wooyoung doesn’t stop until you finally reach your breaking point and beg for it to end.
and the moment you say ‘stop’, he’s pulling his fingers out of your cunt and pressing kisses over your cheeks, kissing the tears away until you catch your breath and stop gasping for air.
“good job, baby, you took me so well, you did so well,” he murmurs into your skin like it’ll make the praises bleed into your veins.
“fuck me now, please?” you whine as you clamber your hands up his body to hold his face. “still want you inside.”
wooyoung’s resolve cracks, and he groans, sinking back on his heels to line his cock up with your fluttering hole.
“i’ll fill you up, angel, promise. just the way you want.”
when he sinks into your cunt, it’s nothing magical or life-changing, but you do know right then that you don’t want any other man for the rest of your life. wooyoung curls his hands around the fronts of your thighs, near the hipbone so that he can pull your body to meet his as he buries himself inside your tight heat. the stretch is intoxicating, and your body is still radiating the pleasure of your first orgasm so the sting isn’t as bad as expected. once he’s fully settled inside, wooyoung moves his palm to cover your abdomen, pressing down on your womb with enough force to make you whine.
“fuck, fill you up so nicely, i wonder if i can feel myself fucking you like this, yeah? feel my cock moving in and out of you? maybe next time i’ll have to fuck your ass and see how deep i can go.”
“woo, m-move, come on.” you do your best to push your hips down onto his cock, but the angle is a bit unforgiving and leaves you waiting for him to make the first move. his response is to hike your hips up off the couch and sit up on his knees, fingers digging into your ass hard enough to leave little crescents in their wake.
“gonna breed you nice and full, baby. is that what you want?”
“yes.” you don’t intend to keep your mouth open after saying that but wooyoung pulls out all the way to the tip and plunges fully into your cunt, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs with that single thrust, and anything that’s left of your sanity goes out as well. it does you no good to cling to the cushion under you, so you bring your hands up over your head to hold onto the armrest as wooyoung builds up a merciless pace, pulling you forward to meet each forward thrust of his hips.
“let me cum inside, please, fuck y/n, pl-please. i’ll fill you up so well.”
“a-ah, is that — is that so?”
“yes, yes, yes,” wooyoung whines, teeth grazing the skin of his lower lip as his words come out in desperate pants. “i’ll fuck you full of my cum, make it spill out of you, i’ll keep going until you can’t hold anymore in your cunt. is that what you want me to do?”
“fuck, wooyoung.”
“i wanna pump so much cum into you that your belly gets swollen with it, i wanna see you carrying my cum in you, give me the chance please.”
“cum in me, woo,” you demand, words all but punched out of you with each thrust of his cock. it’s what dismantles him entirely too, as he sinks into you with a final thrust that pushes him over the edge, and in his orgasmic craze, he thumbs over your clit again, rolling the nub between his fingers until your walls tighten around his length and you tumble into another orgasm with him. wooyoung’s hips seem to move on their own accord, continuing to thrust weakly inside your cunt as he spills his load into you. head hung low, he finally lets you settle back onto the couch and brings his hands down to rest on the cushions as well if only to brace his weight as his strength leaves him in the haze of the aftermath of your sex.
you’re too fucked out to try to move even though you desperately want to take his face between your hands and kiss him senseless. he lowers himself further until he’s all but smothering you with his body, and he presses his cheek against your breast.
“round two over the kitchen counter?” he pants, twisting to look up at your face as he poses the question.
“you fucking menace.”
a/n: ummmm hi sooo this turned into a whole thing oopsies hehe hahahoohoh yikes user hongism is clearly showing how down ATROCIOUSLY she is for wooyoung don’t forget to reblog and leave feedback pls <3
#ateez smut#wooyoung smut#ateez x reader#wooyoung x reader#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#ateez drabble#ateez drabbles#wooyoung drabble#wooyoung drabbles#wooyoung imagine#wooyoung imagines#wooyoung oneshot#ateez oneshot#ateez ff#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#caly.writes#12daysofchristmas.collab
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AOT Characters When Drinking HCs
My friend and I were talking the other day and made some HCs about the AOT characters when they’re drunk— I shall share a them here 😎🤙
cw// alcohol, vomit
modern au shit so this like doesn’t apply season 4 characterization
The 104th Gang
Eren:
- Angry drunk
- To quote my friend, you would say something around him and he's just "ohmmy GODDD shutttt the fuck UP”
- It literally doesn’t matter what you say he will tell you to shut up
- Picks fights for no fucking reason, especially with Jean
- If they’re out to drink he would start a fight with a stranger
- Mikasa literally has to drag him away from fights
- Probably drinks too much and vomits for HOURS and then brags about how high his alcohol tolerance is
- Claims he doesn’t get hangovers but everybody knows he’s lying because he will absolutely just zone out of every conversation the next day
- Always looks like he is on the verge of vomiting again
Mikasa:
- Does not drink because she has to babysit Eren
- However when she does she does not drink a lot
- Probably gets like really flustered and embarrassed, maybe a little touchy b/c her head hurts or something
- Like she’ll lay her head on Sasha’s shoulder meanwhile Eren and Jean are yelling at each other in the background
- Does get a hangover but usually it’s just a headache and she’ll be EXHAUSTED
Armin:
- COMPLETE fucking lightweight oh my god
- Do not give this man alcohol he will absolutely get wrecked
- One glass of wine is probably enough to get him tipsy
- I can’t decide if he would be the kind of person that gets really emotional and cries about everything or if he would go on long drunken rants about the most random shit
- Probably both
- Like he would be crying about the fact that he learned about otters having a favorite rock or this REALLY round corgi he saw last weak and it was just too cute
- Mikasa has to babysit both Eren and Armin whenever he drinks because Eren will absolutely try and drag Armin into his fights
- And with the drunken courage he has Armin would absolutely join in by yelling or hyping Eren up
- He becomes such an enabler
- Would have a hangover if he didn’t pass the fuck out and sleep the entire next day
Connie and Sasha:
- Two for one deal, they are always hanging out whenever they drink
- They’re the most CHAOTIC fucking duo ever, like they would somehow get their hands on a bunch of firecrackers and let loose
- Sasha would probably try and talk to any animals near by
- Connie would be laughing and saying shit like “SASHA the dog can’t fuckin’ talk back 🙄”
- They spend their hangovers bitching and whining about how much it hurts
- Probably would wrap themselves up in blankets in a dark room and snacks and spend the whole day just waiting it out
Jean:
- Same thing as Eren
- Except he also gets more flirty, but it’s not good and usually he ends up embarrassing himself and scaring away the girl he was talk to
- Finds Connie and Sasha and joins them on their shenanigans if he ain’t arguing with Eren
- Probably claims he has really good ideas and then next thing you know all three of them are in a police station and it’s definitely his fault
- “What the fuck made you think taking that woman’s dog was okay”
- “It looked SAD, Connie! And Sasha helped me!”
- “NO—“
- Spends his hangover day with Sasha and Connie
Historia:
- The most giggly fucking drunk you will ever meet
- Laughs at EVERYTHING and asks really dumb questions because suddenly she just has one brain cell
- Also a lightweight just not as bad as Armin
- Ymir has to babysit her and then when Ymir is drunk is the other way around
- They take good care of each other
- Ymir thinks she’s the most adorable thing ever and probably gives into every dumbass request Historia makes
- “Ymir! Let’s go out to eat!”
- “Hist, it’s 2am.”
- “So? There’s someplace open somewhere!”
- “...Fine.”
- Also sleeps her hangover off but Ymir has some water and pain meds ready for whenever she wakes up
Ymir:
- Oh dear lord she becomes very cocky and flirty
- Hangs off Historia’s shoulders the whole time and absolutely starts a fight with whoever looks at her gf
- Eren tried to fight her once and he got his shit beat
- The next day she would be so dramatic about how much pain she’s in just to get Historia to pay attention to her
- And ofc Historia always does < 3
The Warriors:
Reiner:
- Mans becomes such a an emotional bro
- Like he will throw an arm around literally anyone and go off about how much he just thinks they’re the darndest thing
- “Bert have I ever told you how great you are?”
- “All the time. Like a lot. You’ve said it 12 times in the last 10 minutes. Are you okay?”
- Completely denies it happened the next day and pretend he doesn’t feel like shit
- Bertholdt would find him dead to the world on the couch in some weird ass position and then force him to get up and go to bed
- “Dude you smell like ass.”
- “Shut up and just get me some water please.”
Bertholdt:
- Does not drink a lot at all especially around the 104th
- He has to make sure nobody fucking dies, especially Reiner and Annie
- He would have a beer or five with Reiner every so often and then he’s like really clingy and cuddly
- He’s embarrassed about it the next day and also pretends he never got hammered
- Sometimes one of the 104th will walk into their house and Bertholdt would be squished betweeen the fridge and the counter
- He has somehow made his way into the kitchen and will just fall asleep it the weirdest fucking places
- Reiner leaves him there because he feels to bad to move him when he looks strangely comfortable all twisted
- Whenever he and Reiner drink together they will send drunk snaps to their friends
- “Bertholdt just messaged me???”
- “Is he with Reiner?”
- “Yeah I think s— oh no.”
Annie:
- Doesn’t drink a lot either but when she does she also tries to start fights with people
- It never works out and she ends up having really deep and heartfelt conversations with them
- Like I imagine her trying to fight Armin and he’s just shaking I’m his boots and then she just stops and says
- “Ya know, sometimes I get really sad...”
- And so begins the start of their friendship
- For all the AruAni shippers I feel like she would be really protective of Armin and make sure nobody starts anything with him
- Or if they’re with Eren and the gang she will throw hands with Eren if he tries to drag Armin into his disputes
- She also probably hangs around Mikasa to make sure she’s okay and to pretend to hate it whenever Mikasa lays on her shoulder or thigh because she feels sick
- Banysits Reiner and Bertholdt whenever they’re drinking together, and then bullies the fuck out of them the next day
- “You guys are dumbasses.”
- “It was REINER’S idea!”
The Veterans-
Levi:
- DOES NOT DRINK even though he absolutely would
- He like becomes such a fucking mom lowkey especially whenever the kids are getting out of hand
- He’s dealing with a bunch of toddlers plus Hange and Erwin come on
- “Don’t touch that.”
- “Put that down.”
- “Quit yelling.”
- He never offer to clean them up or get them anything because that’s disgusting, however he does make sure everybody is at okay before leaving
- Like that they’re all breathing or nobody is missing
- After that he’s out and then the next day he just stares at them like the most disappointed parent ever
- He tolerates Hange and Erwin a little more, like they both get clingy and he actually lets them just hang off of him or something even tho he hates it
- Would probably hold Hange’s hair back if she throws up, or at least make sure it’s tied up. He has to resist the urge to vomit himself because he just cannot handle it at all
- But then he would just leave her on the bathroom floor asleep
Erwin:
- Oh boy he probably gets so emotional
- The complete opposite of his usual personality it’s so fucking funny
- Will cry about anything and once again like Reiner and Hange will talk about how great you are
- Doesn’t remember SHIT the next day and literally has no clue he acts like this and refuses to believe it whenever somebody tells him
- Hange recorded it once and he just “😐 Delete that, please.”
- Hangs around Levi and is very grateful that he lets Erwin be an annoyance
Hange:
- Tells the kids to be careful with alcohol and then immediately is found face down in a bush
- She becomes like 10 times more bubbly and absolutely batshit
- Laughs really loudly at everything
- She and Armin would get into excited like half conversations about fun science facts or whatever
- Like they absolutely geek the fuck out
- She also probably goes off about how much she loves everyone
- “LEVIIIIII!!! You’re so WOMDERFUL!”
- “Thanks. Now get off of me, bitch.”
- Levi has to babysit her and Erwin LMAO he’s the designated driver every single time
- Always knows the perfect cure for a hangover so she doesn’t usually have a really bad one
This turned out A LOT longer than I thought it would be, oops! Anyway I love doing these so I’m gonna start making more. I will probably do a lot for AOT and Hetalia so 😗✌️ prepare for cringe
#attack on titan#aot#shinjeki no kyojin#snk#aot headcanons#attack on titan headcanons#eren jaeger#armin arlert#mikasa ackerman#connie springer#sasha braus#jean kirschtien#levi ackerman#hange zoe#erwin smith#reiner braun#bertholdt hoover#eruri#levihan#aruani#yumikuri#kenshcs#levi ackerman headcanons#armin arlert headcanons#eren jaeger headcanons
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Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)
Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.
The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.
His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)
Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!
Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!
minors do not interact
warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk
rating: explicit, 18+
wc: 5k
edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop
Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.
That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.
“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”
Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.
“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”
“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.
You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.
Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.
The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.
Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.
Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.
“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink
“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.
“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.
“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.
“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”
“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”
You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.
“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.
“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.
“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.
You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.
“Woah, look at her.”
Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.
“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”
Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.
“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.
“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.
“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.
“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”
That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”
“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.
“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”
“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.
“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”
Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.
“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.
“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”
Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”
“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”
“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”
“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.
Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.
“Hello, uh, miss…”
You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.
You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”
“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.
“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”
You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.
“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”
The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”
You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”
“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.
Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”
“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”
This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.
“It’s also more fun with someone else.”
Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”
Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.
“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.
There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.
You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.
You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.
You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Mhmm.”
You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.
Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.
He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.
“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.
“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.
You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”
You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.
Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.
“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.
“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”
“None.”
“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.
Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.
You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”
The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”
He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.
“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”
“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.
“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”
He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.
“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.
“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”
That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.
“I’m good,” you whimpered.
“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”
He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.
“Strip and suck my cock.”
You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.
“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.
Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.
“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.
The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.
“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”
“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.
“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”
“Here?” you asked.
There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.
“Was I unclear, princess?”
“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.
“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.
“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.
“Which room is yours?”
“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.
“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”
Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.
Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.
You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.
“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”
“Yes, Izuku.”
You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”
“Yes, sir,” you whispered.
“That’s better.”
He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”
“Yes, sir,” you breathed.
You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.
“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.
“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.
“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.
You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.
“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.
You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.
“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“Touch yourself, then.”
You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.
“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”
“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.
“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.
“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.
He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.
“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.
“No, that was amazing,” you said.
Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”
“Cabinet above the sink.”
“Great.”
Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.
“You got up,” he said.
“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”
“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”
His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.
“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”
“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”
The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.
“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.
You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”
“Can I?”
His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.
“Of course,” you said.
“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”
“Is it, now?”
“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”
“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.
There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.
“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”
“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.
“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.
“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.
“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”
“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”
“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.
Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.
“Definitely.”
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if you’re willing, can i please request madara with femdom s/o who’s pretty reserved and quiet outside the bedroom? headcanons?
This man’s beauty is... damn...
Mady Mady... definitely doesn't know how to be tamed, or how to submit. His nature is controlling, relishing the sight of people surrendering to his power and authority just by walking into the room. But what happens when he is the one who must adopt the position of the controlled?
A significant challenge which takes him a long time to embrace and adapt, but the Uchiha is largely attracted to your powerful personality. It is strange and appealing to have someone who dictates how things are instead of being the one who decides.
Let's not even talk about when you degrade him for the slightest thing and make his pride squirm inside, unable to do anything about it purely to please you.
But it's a surprise when, in public, that mighty mouth of yours that usually says the darndest things are simply delicate and quiet, reserved. Madara could swear he forgot his partner in the room the night before. And the one who walks with him through the village is a completely distinct person, a stranger.
The temptation to push you to the limit is beyond his strength, and seeing you so unresponsive to his presence, his imagination travels. Maybe this is a good time to pay you back for all that you make him suffer in private, right?
He often leans on your ear and whispers things like the ones you usually recite to him in private "Such a fine pretty whore I have here..." "You're all mine and I don't care what you think about it..." "What's the matter? no more to say? have the cat got your tongue or are you just afraid?"
His touches are bold and inappropriate, but with the grace and cunning of a shinobi of his level, no one can notice. With this, Madara shows his natural possessive and dominant side, the one that rarely shines through with you.
Of course, he knows that everything he is doing and saying will have its consequences, and secretly, he is eager to be alone with you in order to see how you punish him for behaving like a brat.
#uchiha madara x reader#madara uchiha x reader#madara x reader#naruto imagines#naruto#naruto shippuden#naruto x reader#uchiha madara#madara uchiha#madara
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First Aid Kit
Paring: Pope Heyward x Reader
Summary: You have an accident while attempting to do a new trick and Pope is the man for the job.
Warnings: blood ofc and general first aid stuff nothing too graphic tho!!
WC: 1,994
A/N: There's not enough Pope content!! SO I made some!! Pls enjoy some Pope and Y/N action!
THE GIF IS NOT MINE IT BELONGS TO @rue-bennett !!!!
Saturdays are not meant to be boring, but this scorching afternoon there was nothing to do. John B. went on his weekly date with Sarah, JJ scored a date with a kook he's been eyeing, and Kie was forced to go to a gala on the mainland, so it was just you and Pope alone in the chateau. He had been studying all day for an upcoming chemistry exam he has first thing Monday morning. You tried all day to get his head out of the books, but he was not having any of it. It wasn't until the late afternoon that you got him to go outside with you. Even though his nose was still deep in the piles of notes at least he was outside. You were skating on a horrifically uneven stretch of concrete that was oddly slathered in front of the chateau. Every time he could hear the wheels pop upwards he would snap his eyes to you, cheering you on when you stuck the landing. You were glad that he was far enough away to not be able to see how red your cheeks were. You've had a massive crush on the boy ever since Kie introduced you to the group. Your mom had just moved your ass down to the banks to get a fresh start far away from your poor excuse for a father. She managed to quickly score a job at The Wreck (where you were also forced to work part-time) as head chef. Your mom got on well with the Carrera's who only deemed it appropriate to force their daughter to hang out with you, being new in town and all. Kie wasn’t bothered at all and was glad to have another girl around. After hanging out with her for a single day, you wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for her. Kiara didn't introduce you to the knuckleheads right away, since she had taken a liking to you and didn't want to scare you away. The day that she did you remembered Pope had been the last one to say "hey" yet his was the warmest. After that day your stomach would erupt with butterflies whenever you'd even look at him and you would nearly die when your hands would brush against each other in passing. There was just something about him. Maybe it was how he didn't believe in stupid questions, except for JJ's of course, or how he would learn a new subject just to be able to help one of you ace an exam. It could be how the sun sparkled against his wet skin after a long day of swimming or surfing. How relaxed he looks sitting in the driver's seat of the HMS Pogue taking in all that the sun had to offer. You were glad the rest of the crew hadn't caught on yet, especially JB since he's already taken the role as your big brother, even though you're sure that you’re definitely older than him. He would never let you hear the end of it if he knew. The constant pestering, nudging, and side-eyeing would have driven you insane. Your mind slowly drifted back to the boy studying a few feet away from you. The thoughts of those hot summer nights in the cool water with him clouded your brain, so much so you nearly wiped out.
"You good!?" Pope's concerned voice made your head snap in his direction. You knew that the embarrassment on your face was very telling but you just shot him two thumbs up and got back on your board. You shake off any remaining thoughts from your head before attempting your new trick. You were sick and tired of random strangers, but mostly JJ and JB, yelling at you to do a kickflip whenever you were skating. After watching countless videos on kickflips you were basically an expert on them at this point and all you had to do now was actually stick the landing. You slid your right foot to the middle of the board so that your heel was just off the edge while your toes rested in the middle. You shifted your left foot to the tail of the deck and with all the strength you could muster you push down on the tail while your right foot flicked down on the edge of the board. It would have been a spectacular landing if it weren't for the random-ass pebble that your wheel landed on.
"Oh fuck, are you alright!?" Pope was by your side before you even realized you were on the ground. Falling came with the game and you were not fazed at all, since you've had grislier wipeouts than this, but that's before you saw the fountain of blood that poured out of your knee.
"Yeah, I'm fine dude-- I've had-- I need to--The bathroom--" you hobbled quickly into the bathroom at the chateau trying your darndest to not get any blood in the house. By the time you were able to sit down on the toilet, you were seeing stars. Your vision was slowly fading to black and you felt like you were going to vomit. You closed your eyes tightly as you pressed a clump of toilet paper to your knee, which pulled a hiss right from your lungs at the sensation. Promptly, you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from letting out a scream. A light knock came from the door and it couldn't be anyone else but Pope.
"Are you alright in there y/n?" From all the pain you were in you could only hum out a yes as a response, but you knew that would not be a good enough answer for the boy.
"Yeah, just don't--" before you could even finish your sentence he barged in "--open the door, why don't ya". His eyes grew wide at the bloody mess you made in the bathroom, but then quickly softened at the sight of you. Your skin was flushed with developing perspiration clinging to your skin and your lips had gone pale as your lungs suddenly only knew how to hyperventilate.
"Uh, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to say that it looks like a slasher flick was filmed in here" his words made you squeeze your eyes tighter as bloody images flashed before you and it only got harder for you to breathe. Pope stepped inside the rather small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He picked up all the toilet paper you had used for your leg and tossed them into the trash bin before he crouched down next to you.
"Does it still hurt?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, as if you would shatter if he spoke any louder. All you could muster was a tiny nod as the pain took up most of your energy. His hands then gently pried your hands off of your injured knee and inspected it. Since the cut had almost stopped bleeding completely, Pope, was able to see that the wound was deep but not enough for it to garner any stitches and it was free of any debris. Lucky for you because JB had fallen there a couple of weeks ago and Pope had to whip out the tweezers to get all the gravel out of the bloody gash.
"Hey, it's not that bad-- I mean it is bad but it could be worse-- I'm gonna clean it now" the boy got to his feet and helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub with your feet sitting inside the tub. He then washed his hands furiously to avoid infection and gathered all the supplies he needed which consisted of antibacterial soap, antibiotic cream, gauze pads, gauze rolls, and unconditional love and support. Pope helped you undo both your shoes and removed them along with your embarrassing Winnie the Pooh socks. He sat with his legs outside the tub to have easy access to the supplies. After he checked to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold Pope moved your leg so your knee was underneath the faucet. The wound's contact with the water wasn't as bad as you thought, but it could’ve been you were distracted by his soothing touches as he held you close to him. Pope was careful not to get any of the soap in the cut just on the surrounding area and when he was finished he made sure to clean the rest of your blood-caked leg up as well. Once you were all cleaned up, he padded your leg dry before he attempted to put ointment on the tender flesh.
"Is it going to hurt?" You squeaked as he retrieved the ointment from the countertop.
"It might sting, but it shouldn't, '' he reassured you, as he brought the ointment-covered q-tip to your knee, but you couldn't help that your knee-jerked away from his touch.
"Ow, fuck!"
"Y/n, I haven't even touched you yet"
"I know, I know, sorry"
"I promise it won't hurt, y/n, and if it does you can punch me or something" even if it did hurt that bad you couldn’t imagine hurting Pope in any way. He once again leaned back in with the q-tip and sure enough, it wasn't painful at all. The ointment soothed the burning sensation of the area which finally allowed you to relax. He then carefully put a gauze pad on the injury, before wrapping your knee securely with gauze. You slid off the edge of the grimy porcelain tub and onto the ground while Pope stood next to the sink and neatly tucked everything back into the first aid kit.
"Uh, thanks--" your words got lost in your throat when your eyes met his warm eyes "--um, dude?" You felt stupid when it came out as a dumbfounded question and the heat quickly rose to your cheeks. If it was any time for you to die you wish it would have happened right then.
"Yeah, any time, y/n" he shot an endearing smile in your direction and you've never wanted to kiss a man so much before in your life.
You both let the awkwardness settle over you. The two of you riddled with hesitancy, but quietly yearned to confess your feelings to one another. He needed to get out of there. Pope gave you a curt nod and a tight smile, but as he headed towards the door there was vacillation in his movements. Before you lost sight of him from the doorway, he turned back around determined.
"Y/N, I gotta--" you were soon on your feet as the last bit of courage you had for your lifetime allowed you to meet him halfway. He didn't bother finishing his sentence as he decided his actions would speak for him. Pope cupped your face in his soft hands and crashed your lips together. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever experienced before. His plump lips gilded confidently over your timid ones. As the fire inside of you diminished your shyness you shifted yourself forward onto your tippy toes to deepen the kiss. Your movements caused you to pin Pope against the bathroom wall and you could feel him smile against your lips. His velvet tongue dragged against your bottom lip for permission to explore you further and you were more than eager to let him.
"Fucking finally!" The familiar voice of the rowdy klepto caught you guys by surprise causing both of you to jump away from each other.
"I guess I'm forty bucks richer, I knew you had it in ya, Pope!" JJ beamed as he walked towards the two of you and you playfully rolled your eyes at the blonde-haired boy.
"Fuck off!" Pope giggled and slammed the door in JJ's face before he turned to face you.
"Now, where were we?"
#pope heyward#pope fic#pope heyward fic#obx fic#pope x reader#pope heyward x reader#pope x y/n#pope obx fic#pope heyward imagine#pope obx#pope heyward outer banks#pope heyward x you#my fic#pogueit
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Everyone Was Harmed in the Making of This Video
Demoman/Soldier, 1k
Request for RayenStormzDragon, Best Dads
It is very important to close your HVAC systems when not in use.
Soldier learned that the hard way, belly down in a vent that could barely fit him, making cooing noises at the mother raccoon who had only unkind things to say in response. Granted, since these were Soldier’s version of ‘cooing noises’, maybe that was to be expected. The animal was wedged dangerously close to heater, and if Soldier turned it on (as it was his responsibility since he technically owned the building he was squatting in) it’d fry her and her cubs to a crisp. Soldier was no stranger to the building’s many dangers (the occasional methane leak, the sparking boiler, the giant piles of rocket launcher ammo he just left lying around) but usually he tried to keep himself as the only victim of the apartment’s quirks, and not innocent procyonidaes.
“I am trying to help you!” he told her for the fifth time.
She hissed, and swatted his hand. Thankfully, after the eleventh time she’d bit him, he’d thought to put on oven mitts, and thus he only received a light thumping across his impromptu grabbers.
“Ma’am! I strongly suggest you watch your language!”
He’d have to try a different approach. He’d been attempting to remove the mother (as she seemed to be the biggest obstacle in his mission of vent de-obstruction) but maybe if he could nab the kids first she’d follow out after.
“…A wonderful day, isn’t it?” he said, very, very casually as he tried to scoot closer to the baby raccoons. “Very warm…very desert-y…Look a distraction!”
The raccoon did not look. Soldier lunged anyway, swooping underneath her and seizing a cub in each mitt, a cry of victory on his lips. She was, unsurprisingly, not pleased with this development.
“AAAAAaaargggllggrll!” Soldier’s victory screech turned to terror as thirty pounds of enraged fur threw itself at his face.
He went sliding backwards, feet desperately trying to find the ladder he had used to reach the vent in the first place. Find it they did, and his momentum sent the straight ladder teetering backward like a reverse pole-vault. As the ground rushed up to meet him, he did his darndest to keep the cubs tucked safe to his chest and shield them from the worst of the impact.
Unfortunately, the mother was not so lucky. The falling ladder acted like a pendulum and—untethered as she was—sent her flying across the room, screaming in pure fury. Even more unfortunately, she landed in one of the various rocket stockpiles.
The resulting FWOOM took out a good portion of the basement’s foundation.
When Soldier sat himself up, a raccoon cub in each hand, a smoking crater where the poor creature used to be, all he could say was:
“Dammit.”
*
“MEN!” Soldier shouted as he kicked in the base’s door. The door did not need to be kicked. It was not locked, nor even closed entirely, but kick it he did and found small delights in the way it slammed against the adjacent wall. “I am calling a TACTICAL TEAM MEETING. Everyone REPORT TO THE KITCHEN on the DOUBLE.”
“Soldier,” said Spy, who was the only one present in the kitchen and had to clench his coffee mug to keep it from rattling, “no.”
That was about everyone else’s summation too. “Soldier you can’t just bring wild animals on base,” Engie said once the team had gathered and he’d caught sight of the infant cradled in Soldier’s arms.
“They are orphaned! I cannot abandon them to the wilds!” Soldier said in what was definitely not a pout.
“They’re wild animals,” Spy replied, having moved almost entirely into the rec room and retreated into the folds of an armchair. “It is where they belong.”
“Where’d you even get these?” Engie examined them with a crease above his goggles. “Where’s their mother?”
“She exploded,” Soldier replied with no inflection.
“You know, that’s funny!” Medic said, “That just happened to-”
“Does not matter,” Heavy cut in. “Match is in fifteen minutes. We do not have time to babysit. None of us can help, Soldier.”
“Bit too late on that, mate,” Sniper said, and jerked a thumb in Demo’s direction.
In the corner, somehow having acquired one of the babies while no one was looking, the Demoman was bawling his eye out. Every few seconds the cub would mewl, Demo would sniffle, and then he would gently rub it to his cheek while spitting out unintelligible gibberish.
“Good gravy,” Engineer grumbled. It had been hard enough keeping Pyro away from those things, but somehow Soldier had slipped surveillance and gotten to the second weakest link. “Did you give him one of those just because you knew he’s in a crying mood?”
“Engineer! Are you implying I took advantage of our teammate’s tenuous sobriety in order to curry favor with an over-emotional and easily swayed state of being? Because I resent that!”
“Demoman,” Heavy warned. “Leave wild creature. We go kill men, not deal with baby.”
“Wah?? Buhuwcanweedjistleavetherthing…” Demo bemoaned, his first scrumpy of the morning and the proximity to cuteness slurring into a dreadful mixture of betrayed horror.
“I think he’s a goner,” Sniper observed. He patted Heavy on the arm, and headed to Resupply. “Might as well get out there, ‘m sure they’ll sort themselves out sooner or later.”
“Gosh darn it,” Engie grumbled, but even he could tell it was a lost cause.
One by one the mercenaries filed out, none of them save for the stalwart and loyal Demoman staying to help Soldier tend to what was clearly a dire situation. Fine then! They were obviously too weak willed to be of any use anyways; he and Demo could this just fine on their own.
“Demoman!”
Demo lifted his head, bottom lip trembling. He was going to dehydrate himself at this rate.
“Here,” Soldier placed the remaining raccoon in Demo’s, if not capable, then dedicated hands. Demo hiccuped in reply. “Find something to keep them warm while I run to the store. But not too warm! They are extremely easy to cook.”
“Oahgay,” Demo promised with a final sniffle. Doubling the amount of babies was threatening to make him break down entirely, but if Soldier had put his faith in him, then by God he would hold together. “Keep ‘em roasty toasty…”
“Goodspeed, citizen,” Soldier saluted. He gave two, much smaller salutes to the raccoons, and then was on his way.
*
“Demoman!” Soldier kicked the door open again. Ah, life’s little pleasures. “I have returned from the pet store!”
The mercenaries began preparing the kitten formula, their two children squeaking out displeasure for their empty bellies. Demo had taken off the top of an ammo crate and placed one of Pyro’s blankies in the bottom; for heat, he’d ‘borrowed’ a prototype dispensers and attached it to the bottom of the crate. Sure Engie had given him that key to his lab for emergencies only, but surely this had to count, right?
“Alright, water first, then formula.” Soldier brought his hands down on the counter. “We will need one pint of water, one teaspoon of sugar, and a quarter teaspoon of salt. That’s pronto, private!”
“How d’ye knoo all’er this stuff?” Demo asked as he clambered for the kitchen’s singular measuring cup. “Yeer so smart…”
Soldier blinked. Smart? He really must be drunk.
“Careful,” Soldier said, helping Demo lay the first raccoon flat on a towel. “Keep it on its belly. There, that’s good. Now when it’s done with the water can try to feed it.”
Soldier handled the second raccoon, and soon they were both ready to start taking the bottle. It was important not to overfeed, as that would cause the cubs to start sneezing milk out their nose, and if you didn’t clean that off their faces in time it would lead to fur loss. They were good eaters—though to his disappointment, neither of them would take any sour cream. Not even a spoonful! Kits these days…
“Good job recruits!” he told them. “Now it’s time for burping!”
“Burping?” Demo asked.
Soldier placed a towel over Demo’s shoulder and helped him navigate a raccoon across it. After some quick instructions, Demo lightly tapped the baby’s back, drumming its upper neck until it gave the tiniest, cutest burp right next to the Demoman’s ear. He immediately burst into tears again.
“There there,” Soldier said, this time patting Demo’s back. “Just let it all out.”
*
“Ach, not until you’re older, girlie,” Demo said, swiping the bottle from where he had carelessly let dear little Eilidh begin to crawl around. “Come here.”
He scooped her back into her ammo crate, where she’d cause less trouble.
“Girlie?” Soldier narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The helmet lessened the effect. “How do you know that?”
“I just have knowing for these things, you ken.” Demo puffed up proudly. “Eilidh’s a lassie, and her brother Eoghann over there’s a laddie.”
Soldier defensively cuddled the cub Demo was pointing at. “That is a terrible name! And you already named the other one, I get to name this one.”
“Oh yeah? You think you can do better in the christening department?”
“Yes!” Soldier held out the raccoon in both hands. “This is George-Spangled Fireworks. The third!”
Demo smirked and folded his arms. “George-Spangled?”
“We can call him Jangled for short.”
Soldier walked forward, at set Mr. Fireworks III next to his sister. They were drifting off already, the dispenser’s low thrum a steady rhythm to find oneself falling into, vibrating the air and extending tendrils from its base. No doubt whatever mistakes Demo and Soldier made in their amateurishness, the dispenser would pick up the slack.
“Here,” Soldier said, forcing one of the water bottles he’d picked up from the store into Demo’s hands.
“What’s all this?”
“Raccoons aren’t the only ones that need to stay hydrated. You have been crying nonstop still they got here and also have been drinking alcohol. Drink up.”
Demo looked at the bottle, then wiped his still-leaking eye with his sleeve.
“Aye,” he smiled at Soldier. “Thanks.”
The team had come and gone, berating them for missing the day’s battle or merely scoffing in their direction, and eventually Demo and Soldier were the only two left on base. Even Pyro, who’d swung by to coo at the babies, eventually realized they were too tired to play and headed home as well. So it was just the two of them, standing guard over the tuckered out raccoons.
“You heading out then?” Demo asked. He was on his side, one arm mushed against his face and the other trailing absently inside the box, eye never leaving the small chests as they rose and fell.
“…No, I think I will stay.”
“Aye, me too. For the first night at least.”
They lapsed into silence, and Soldier left the kitchen chair he’d dragged over in favor of the floor next to the Demoman. Demo rose as well, and flopped against Soldier’s side.
“We’re good Dads,” Demo hummed sleepily.
Soldier wondered if Demo would fall asleep sitting up. He wondered if they both would. “…Affirmative.”
“We should be Dads for other things too. Like…” The seconds stretched on, Demo staring blankly into space like he honestly couldn’t remember what other sorts of babies there were.
“Like?”
“…Otters,” he said finally.
“Otters are good,” Soldier agreed. A yawn hit him just then, and he felt like his jaw might fall off with how far he stretched it. “I will…keep that in mind…for next time…”
“Mm.” Demo let his head fall in the crook of Soldier’s neck.
They stayed like that, the four of them breathing in time.
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Little Match Maker
Summary: Single dad!Kirishima has a 8 year old wingman who only wants her daddy to be happy, by talking to the cute neighbor across the street for him.
Wordcount: 1917
A/N: this has actually happened to me and its the most adorable thing to see a child ask if you have a boyfriend while their dad is dying in the background of embarrassment when they off handily mention that they found some stranger pretty. So now its a fic. Thank you little girl for the scenario and I hope you got your dad a girlfriend.
Kirishima watched from his kitchen window as his neighbor plucked a few weeds from her front yard. She bent down to pick up a tool and he could see her shorts dig into her soft skin. He sighed as she smiled at another neighbor walking by with their dog. “So pretty…”
He wished he was on the receiving end of that smile, even if it was just you being polite. There were a lot of things he wished for when he saw you across the street. . Maybe he’s just lonely, but he couldn’t help the crush he’d had on you for a while now, despite barely knowing you.. He groaned as you squatted down in front of your flower bed. Sometimes he feels like some dirty teenager again with how much he thought about his head between your—
“Papa! The stove!” The pot of water he was boiling to for the oatmeal overflowed, liquid sizzling on the hot burner. He quickly lifted the pot to the other side of the stove and turned off the burner. Kirishima sighed but smiled towards his giggling daughter behind him as he berated himself mentally for getting distracted.
~
Kirishima had had many plans for his future. Becoming a pining single dad was not one of those plans. His ex-wife, despite saying that she knew what she was getting into by being with a pro-hero when they’d started dating, gave up on their marriage three years in. She also left him alone with a beautiful two-year-old little girl.
At first, they had shared custody. But over the years, he had slowly taken on all of the parental responsibility. By the time Minori was eight, Kirishima was the only parental figure in her life and lived with her father full time.
Kirishima got over his failed marriage and raised his daughter to the best of his ability, making sure to spend plenty of quality time. Even if it was an errand, he would go out of his way to make it fun. Grocery shopping was made to be like a scavenger hunt, letting his daughter lead him around looking for the needed items on the list while giving her hints, and it always ended with treats, even if it would possibly spoil both of their dinners. Even when stopping at the agency to do some quick paperwork, he always brought her around when he knew the others were on break there.
“Off, brat,” Bakugo grumbled as the black-haired child climbed up Bakugo’s back.
Minori just giggled, wrapping her arms around his throat, nearly choking him. “But Kacchan is so warm and smells like candy!”
“Seriously….what is with Shitty-Hair and his spawn clinging to me?”
“Aw, it’s not so bad, Kacchan.” Deku picked up the giggling child, spinning around the office while Bakugo sat at his desk filling out paperwork, ignoring them. Deku brought her back to his chest, hugging her tightly and her plump cheeks crushed against his own cheeks. “I want a baby!”
“You already have a screaming toddler at home,” Kaminari chuckled as he came up beside Kirishima’s desk, who was filling out some leave forms for Minori’s upcoming school break.
Deku placed Minori back on Bakugo’s lap, who begrudgingly let her sit on him. “I do?”
“Yeah. Blasty over there.” Kaminari leaned against Kirishima’s desk, shooting finger guns at Sero, who failed at covering up his snort.
Bakugo glared at Kaminari, leaning back with an arm around Minori. “I’m not a fucking toddler.”
Sero chuckled, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Notice that he doesn't deny that he screams at home.”
“Speaking of making people scream at home, how’s your dating life, Ei?” Kaminari rested an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders, who instantly went red, his hairline blending with his skin perfectly.
“Don’t be gross in front of a kid, idiots.” Bakugo pressed Minori against his chest, covering her ears before throwing a stapler at Kaminari.
The loud clatter shook Kirishima from his shock and he instantly scooted away from Kaminari, waving his hands in front of him. “D-dating? M-me? No way, dude.”
The room went quiet for a moment. “Seriously? You aren’t interested in anyone after… you know who?” Sero raised an eyebrow, asking what everyone was thinking.
“No! Not at all! Why would you say that? I need to focus on raising Minori while still trying to rise in the ranks. I have no time to even entertain the idea of d-dating! That’s completely out of the question. I’ve never once thought about—”
“You into someone aren’t you?” Bakugo stood up with Minori in his arms, interrupting Kirishima’s frantic ramble, having seen right through him. Years of translating Midoriya’s nervous rants gave Bakugo an unwanted, yet useful, skill of translating long-winded explanations.
“It’s nothing…” Kirishima looked to the side, avoiding looking anyone in the eye. He could feel the pressure from their intense stares and sighed. “Okay, we’ve hardly even had an actual conversation… but there is this woman who lives across the street...”
Kaminari let out a low whistle. “Ooooh, a MILF for a neighbor. She gotta be super hot for you to notice.”
Bare legs bending down in the garden flashed in his mind. Kirishima could feel his cheeks get warmer as he buried his face in his hands. “Well, I…. just… she’s really pretty….”
Sero laughed and hooted for his friend, clapping loud enough that a few people started to look their way. “Go for it, bro!”
Deku waved the bystanders off to not mind them as Kirishima rested his head against his desk, groaning with embarrassment. “I don’t… I can’t…. I don't even know if she’s single…. And I'm so out of the game...”
“Dude, I’m not talking about you starting a relationship with her. Lonely housewife, single father hero; sounds like a plot to a really steamy—”
Bakugo slammed a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, Minori now clinging onto Bakugo’s back. “Dunce face, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I will cut your tongue out with a plastic spoon and shove it up your ass.” Kaminari nodded frantically out of fear.
Bakugo huffed triumphantly, looking back at the kid he was currently giving a piggyback ride to. “And that’s how you get an idiot to stop talking. If anyone at school gives you shit, just do exactly that. Got it?”
“Got it.” Minori chirped, nodding her head in agreement.
“Bakubro…. please, no more defense lessons. I’d rather not get on a first name basis with the principal this year.” Bakugo rolled his eyes as he took Minori to the breakroom for a snack, continuing his lesson on how to verbally intimidate her enemies. Kirishima can’t say he didn’t try.
Midoriya sighed, holding a hand to his chest as the other patted Kaminari on the back as he gasped for air. “He’s so hot, all parental like that.”
“Oh yes, he’s the perfect fatherly figure that every child deserves in their lives,” Sero commented sarcastically, which went right over Deku’s head.
“But Kaminari is right. I think it’s time to put yourself out there again. If you want to start dating, I would be happy to ado-babysit, I meant babysit, for you.” They all looked at Deku, who was chuckling nervously while staring up at the ceiling.
“You really want a baby, don’t you?” Sero and Kaminari made eye contact before they got up and ran after Bakugo together. “Yo, Blasty! Come back and knock up Izuku before he steals Mini-shima!”
Midoriya chased after them, looking like a strawberry as he frantically tried to hold his teasing friends back. “You guys!! Stop it!”
After some more teasing of Deku’s obvious baby fever and probing of Kirishima about finally putting himself out there again, Kirishima and Minori were walking back to their home. He always checked his mail before going inside, but this time something else caught his eye. The sound of a hose had him turning around to see his neighbor conveniently spraying down a soapy car.
Kirishima’s jaw went slack as he watched water droplets run down your bare skin; those shorts should be illegal. He loves them. “You okay Papa? That’s not our mailbox.” Minori watched as Kirishima tried to put the mailbox key into the next-door neighbor’s mailbox next to theirs.
“Mhm, I see,” he mumbled as he watched you bend down in front of a bucket, pulling out a soapy sponge.
Minori rolled her eyes. “Give me that.” She guided her father’s hand to the right mailbox, opening it and taking out the mail.
“So pretty…” Kirishima mumbled; it was a moment before he noticed his daughter crossing the street by herself. He looked down to his side; yup, she was no longer holding onto his hand. “Ah, Minori!”
She completely ignored her father as she ran up to you. “Excuse me, miss!”
You jumped back, turning off the hose as you looked down at the little girl in front of you. “Oh hello?”
“Are you married?” You blinked at her, completely thrown off by the question.
You tilt your head, not sure where this was going. “I…um…no?”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“Minori!” You see your neighbor across the street yell; he tried to cross the street but a passing car blocked his path.
The little girl just pointed back at the man who was now panting as he ran over. “Wanna date my Papa? He’s a pro-hero and Kacchan says my Papa is painfully single. My Papa also said you are really pretty. He almost burnt the house down staring at you. And you don’t have to worry about me; Uncle Zuzu said he’d watch me.”
Your neighbor, whose name you remembered was Kirishima, suddenly covered her mouth with one of his large hands but the damage was done. You giggled as she just looked up at her dad, annoyed. “Well aren’t you straight forward.”
Kirishima chuckled nervously, rubbing a hand on his neck. “Yeah, kids, huh? They say the darndest and most embarrassing things….” You heard him whisper to her that she was so grounded, which she responded with another roll of her eyes.
You smile at their antics; they were a sweet pair. “I remember those days, I have a teenager myself.” You thought about your son, who was getting close to becoming a full grown adult.
“You have kids?”
“Just one; he’s spending a week at my ex-husband’s.” You hold up a finger on your left hand, showing off slightly the lack of a wedding ring on your finger.
“Um, so single?” You nodded and his shoulders relaxed as a dopey smile spread on his face. It was so adorable. “That’s great….I mean, it’s not great that you are single, unless you want to be, then it's awesome…uh, I um….I don’t know where I’m going with this and I’m sorry.”
The little girl looked up at her dad and whispered, “This is where you ask her out Papa.”
“Minori, shhhh.”
“She’s a cute one, and fiesty.” You pulled out a pen from your pocket and grabbed Kirishima’s very meaty arm and began to write your number. “I don't work on Fridays and Sundays.”
He looked down at his arm and then back at you, confused for a second before his eyes went wide. Luckily, Minori piped up for him and held out her hand. “Great, he’ll pick you up at seven on Friday.”
You giggled, shaking her hand in agreement. “It’s a date.”
#kirishima eijiro#kirishima eijirou#kirishima#kirishima x reader#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima eijirou x reader#single dad kirishima#fluff#minor bakudeku in the background#deku has baby fever#im deku#I have bad baby fever too
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taste your death, savor it.
Content warnings: Murder, death, child death, cannibalism, gore, desecration of dead bodies, burials, funerals, drinking, implied underage drinking, church/religion mentions.
no shipping, lots of just death. I said I could write a good fic about the recent tales and I did it. sorry.
For a town so haunted by the reaper, bells tolling for deaths every day, they are not good at digging graves. Most people would be dealt with by their families, really. Though there ain’t much in the way of that anymore.
(Crops got the undertaker first. The woman got in the way of his newfound desires, no one could blame a starving man with all that fresh meat around, right?)
None of them quite knew how it was done. The sheriff never had to really deal with the bodies aside from carting them off out of sight of the townsfolk. And the cannibal only knew how best to separate the tasty parts of the meat. Not very useful.
The sun was still high in the sky. It was less harsh now, no longer high noon, no longer a sword of Damocles, no longer a sign for weapons drawn. The sun continued to slowly sink now, sky bright and searing blue in their mesa town.
The remaining townsfolk were sitting on the pews of their church. Light streaked inside the room through the stained glass windows, beams of colors they would only see in flowers or fine fabrics, rich paintings none of them would ever afford to even see.
Bottles were pulled from pockets and bags, bright blue liquid sloshing around. Beere, brewed by a dead boy. It only tasted like the burn of alcohol, nothing else, settling deep and churning in their guts. Most were drinking on empty stomachs. Aside from the cannibal.
We don’t mention the cannibal, okay. He had disappeared, and no one wanted to know where to.
“Only a week from retirement.” seemed to be the only thing Sheriff Sherman could say now, his one healthy eye staring off in the distance as he sipped at his beere with a grace unexpected from a grizzled lawman.
Percy nodded sagely, muttering about money, bushy grey mustache twitching as he did. His eye twitched, dark bags evident. He slugged back more beere and almost choked on it, fingers compulsively tightening around the neck of the bottle.
Michael was nervously patting at his thighs, already drunk, but not enough, never enough, staring at the podium where that strange outsider had stood. He was exhausted.
William chugged the beere with ease, drinking enough that the others- usually uncaring and minding their own business- had become a bit concerned. He drank enough to pass out and deemed it good enough, slumped in the wooden pew, a dusty holy book under his head as a pillow.
The night passed in the church. The eerie light of the moon beams through stained glass cradled the bodies of the slumbering townsfolk. Crops peeked in, but cared not for difficult prey, and went back to the bodies cooling in the outskirts of town.
The morning came with the crowing of now freed roosters, running rampant around town with no farmer to corral them. The four townspeople had a duty to complete.
They knew well enough that rotting bodies could begin to stink. The town was no stranger to criminals, and some actually were executed as planned, not running wild like the farm animals were now. Leaving criminals strung up, while it sent a message, also sent a stink that was hard to get rid of.
Sherman and Percy took care of the bandits. Sherman was strong enough to drag the dead weight, and Percy, unused to manual labor, was wheezing and coughing over dust as he tried to dig a grave into the rocky and hard dirt. No wonder the farmers had stuck to livestock, the dirt was dry as bones.
In the end Percy had only dug one shallow grave, the sun high into the sky and burning his neck. Percy swiped his hat off his head, smearing dirt on his face trying to wipe away sweat.
“One’s good enough.” Sherman grunted, tossing the first body into the uneven bottom of the grave.
The strange, horseless man, Connor-Flint, was without a head, but had a bullet in the heart, his blue (and now red) clothes streaking with dirt, falling into the grave like a sack of potatoes.
Or meat, Sherman thought. But potatoes were a better comparison.
Jack was next, his head taken off with far more care, hands that had grabbed Crops’ collar now gone as well, body a mess of fabric and blood and meat, and if they hadn’t known it was him they never would have guessed. The thump of his body falling on top of Connor-Flint-Whatever’s was chilling despite the heat.
Percy, who had been leaning on his shovel, panting, now spoke. “Leave ‘em to me. This one took my debtor.” And with narrowed eyes and a sneer, Percy kicked the body of Mason into the grave, kicking dirt onto the headless body as well.
Sherman grunted again, turning his head to where William and Michael had been occupied.
Michael had grabbed his good clothes, muttering about his wife with wide eyes to William, dressing the body of John in a good suit. It was too big, John had been tall enough, but not broad enough, not grown into it.
Sherman spat onto the body of Mason and turned to walk over to the others, leaving Percy to bury the bodies in that arid dirt.
“Bad shot. Bad shot. Bad shot.” Michael was muttering over and over, hands fluttering a bit as he straightened out the bolo tie, clipping the cuff links properly, then double checking it.
“Hmm.” William leaned back against a hay bale, throwing back more beere.
“How d’you reckon we do a good funeral for the kid?” Sherman asked.
William snorted. “We’re down one priest, sheriff. Can’t exactly do much.”
“We gotta do somethin’.” Sherman insisted.
John’s body was without a head as well.
Digging a grave was hard work, but not the hardest Sherman had to do in his life. Gritting his teeth, tusks pulling at his lip for a moment, Sherman dug deeper, tossing the dirt up into a pile. He had taken care to go away from the bandit’s last resting place. He had maybe taken too much care. He didn’t know why he cared.
He should be hunting down criminals, or relaxing in anticipation for his retirement. Instead he’s digging a grave for someone far too young for it.
With a deep grunt, he pulled himself up and out of the grave, a deeper one than the bandits got, to make sure the vultures didn’t get to him.
Michael was carving something in a stray piece of wood, pocketknife shaky.
“Kid didn’t know how to read.” Sherman found himself saying.
Michael listlessly shook his head and misspelled the word ‘duel’ in the sign. “We gotta do somethin’.” He parroted back in a perfect imitation of what Sherman said earlier.
They hadn’t bothered putting a marker for the bandits’ grave, just a lump of displaced dirt indicating the demise of more and more people.
Sherman stared as William hammered the wooden tombstone deeper into the dirt.
“Reckon the Kah-ral fella bit it too? Ran into Crops or somethin’ while he was ditchin’ town?” Percy asked.
“Nah.” Sherman found himself saying. “Kid was smarter than that.”
“Weird fella.” William slurred his words, blinking blearily.
At the end, they all stood there, the waterfall roaring off of the mesa, the sun setting now that their work was done.
They stared at the tombstone, declaring the death of John John, a bartender. They didn’t know a birth year for the kid, only the death.
“Should we say somethin’?” Percy took off his hat, hand carding through his greying hair.
“No clue.” Sherman responded. He’d been to plenty of funerals. None had left him so empty inside.
“’E was a good boy. Played cards and sang and made drinks.” Michael nodded to himself, then turned. “I’m gonna head back to my work.”
William nodded as well, and raised his last bottle of beere. “Tried his darndest, wasn’t good enough. Happens to everyone.” He emptied the bottle into his mouth, then tossed it to shatter against the cliff face. He turned and left.
“Still owe me a hundred dollars.” Percy said. “Doesn’t matter now, do it? Kid’s dead. No money in that business anymore. There’s nothing... here, anymore.” Percy shook his head, tossing his hat to rest on the tombstone, and left.
Sherman stood, swaying as the cold of night swept over him.
He would never get used to death. He swore it.
He’d find some way to get justice. To get blood. But no more death.
Sherman fell to his knees and apologized, and he didn’t know what for. His body ached. His mouth was dry. His fingers twitched for a gun or a shovel. Sherman hadn’t really known grief, before now. Hadn’t quite known regret. Hadn’t known what it was like to envy a dead boy so very much ‘til now.
He knew now. He lived in a ghost town. The living just hadn’t gotten the memo yet.
#dreamsmp#dsmp#tales from the dream smp#tftsmp#technoblade#karl jacobs#ranboo#mcyt#TAGGING FOR THE WIZARD101 FANDOM IS SO MUCH EASIER GOD DAMNIT#badboyhalo#i dont care im posting it fuck it
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