#(hehe got it keep you afloat)

[tsukimefuku]

don’t get too scared, or else you’ll moan :: satoru gojo

You and your boyfriend decide to go to the movies for Halloween, and things get a little out of hand — or on it, you might say. His hand.

content warning: MDNI. fem!reader, exhibitionism, public, fingering, use of popcorn bucket as decoy, muffling sounds with sloppy kissing. Somewhat proofread.

wc: 840ish

notes etc: a small contribution for the kinky spooky season, hehe. I'm slowly putting a dent into the smutty drabbles prompts, will tackle a few more this upcoming week

“Can you be good for me?”

Satoru's whispered purr came with a hint of mockery to it, and you held on the armrest for dear life with one hand, while the other plastered all over your mouth to prevent any squeak from escaping and denouncing your less than appropriate lewd activities to every other person in the vicinity.

The shit-eating grin he had on his face and his twinkling azure eyes under the dimly lit movie theater gave you half a mind to slap him - that is, if you could think.

The seats were mostly empty as a B-grade horror movie flashed through the screen, but you hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening on the screen. Not when Satoru was knuckle-deep into your drenched, slick folds and you did your absolute best to bite down every sound involuntarily bubbling up your throat.

“What… d-do you mean…?” you managed to strangle out under your breath, your voice rasp and hurried before your words had the chance to become a needy whimper.

It was an arduous task.

Satoru curled his fingers inside you, his rough digits pressing over your sensitive spot intently, which had you jumping in surprise. The bucket of popcorn that was over your lap almost got tossed on the ground, and some of your neurons were still functional enough for you to grab it before it fell with prickling, quivery hands.

“You have to hold the popcorn, pretty girl,” he cooed lowly, leaning close enough for his breath to fan over your earlobe, “or else we might have an accident.” Satoru followed his remark with a tiny chuckle, and was clearly deriving a huge amount of fun to have you an absolute mess of bated moans and trembling muscles, every tiny falter to keep yourself afloat a small victory to him. Even if the uncomfortable strain in his own slacks was growing more intense by the second.

You struggled to keep your eyes open and directed at the screen while his fingers worked their way inside you, their ridges massaging you from within, pumping and prodding purposefully all around your favorite spots.

By this point, you had already made a complete mess of slick dripping in between your thighs, over your panties - which were haphazardly pushed aside -, his palm and the part of your skirt you were still sitting on.

You wondered how the hell you’d manage to leave the movie theater like that, but the pleasure was more than enough to keep your mortification at bay, at least for now.

The bastard sat completely unfazed by your side, staring straight ahead as he pretended to watch The Evil Something 3 while his hand was shoved up your cunt, pistoning his fingers into you like there was no tomorrow.

Eventually you just gave up on trying to pretend watching the movie, resting your face over his shoulder, letting out a sequence of tiny gasps and pleas of his name that Satoru was sure to drink in pridefully.

A familiar heat began to prickle its way down your body, and tightened down all over your abdomen. With a sense of urgency, you drew your face upwards to look at him, your skin covered with a thin coat of glistening sweat as you realized in dread you wouldn't be able to bite down this.

"S-satoru... I-I'm..." you tried, as your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers, while the bumpy ridges of his fingertips brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"And you can't keep it down?" he cooed playfully, his voice more sultry than he expected it to come out, as he leaned his face over to meet yours. His eyes gazed at you the way you'd expect him to look upon receiving his favorite candy as a gift.

In this case, your sweet, pretty sounds.

"Moan into my mouth then."

You didn't have time to answer. In a few seconds, you were cumming all over his hand, and your moans got muffled by his tongue, that he unceremoniously shoved into your mouth and intertwined in yours. You were at least spared the small mercy of your high coinciding with an incredibly loud jumpscare moment, that in exchange also robbed other people of screams and curses - just about enough for you two to not draw much attention towards your lewd activities.

Slowing his pace, he finally pulled his hand from the middle of your thighs, and didn't break eye contact as he put his fingers over his tongue to lick away your candied slick. You swore you came a little just from the sight of it.

Limp and spent, you let your full body weight rest on him, and Satoru welcomed you into his warmth with an arm around your shoulders.

"What is going on now?" you inquired out of breath, asking him about the movie.

"As if I would know," he chirped, kissing the top of your head as you proceeded to finish watching a movie none of you had watched the first forty minutes of.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[beneathashadytree]

HI GUYS! LONG POST, MAKING A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT OVER HERE! I WILL BE ACCEPTING WRITING COMMISSIONS FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I LIVE IN EXTREME POVERTY… PLEASE REBLOG!!

Here are my commision prices:

1$-2$ —> an SMAU (depends on length)

5$ —> a drabble (around 500 words)

10$ —> a oneshot (around 1000 words)

20$ or more—> a ficlet (2000-4000 words or more)

What fandoms I’m willing to write for (the ones in bold are the ones I’m best at and hyperfixating on):

Attack on Titan

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

Jujutsu Kaisen

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Moriarty the Patriot

Tokyo Revengers

One Piece

Bungou Stray Dogs

Kuroko no Basket

Ikemen Sengoku

Ikemen Vampire

Ikemen Revolution

Ikemen Prince

Love and Deepspace (my current fav)

How do I request a commission?

Either contact me via my DMs here, or on my Ko-Fi! I’ll be linking my account at the bottom of this post.

What’s the commission format?

Tell me your name or your OC’s name, their gender & pronouns, describe them to me both physically and in terms of personality, then tell me which character you want me to write them with. I’ll be writing “character x reader” or “character x OC” fics, so I need to know what I’m working with! Any extra details will help a lot. Of course, we will discuss everything concerning your commission privately.

If you want to check out my previous works to have a rough idea of how things will look like, be sure to check out my masterlist, which is my pinned post! Of course, my writing improves over time, so it may not be precisely as it is there.

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Please consider helping me out, whether by requesting a commission, or by sharing this post and my links as much as possible!! I’m trying my best to do all I can now that I haven’t got many options left.

As some of you might already know, I’m a dentist, but still at uni. Sadly, studying dentistry is extremely expensive, and I can’t rely on my parents to pay my fees for me for a few reasons.

The first being that my dad is a heart patient, and can’t work anymore. The pension he receives is literally less than the equivalent of 90 dollars. Of course, that doesn’t provide anything in terms of food and living (we usually can only afford a meal or two a day) except for some of his meds—not even all of them. His health is steadily declining.

My mother is extremely narcissistic and very, very abusive. I’ve gone through hell living with her because I have to, but even she can’t even afford to take care of us because no one wants to hire her at her old age, and she’s used up all her savings on my dad.

I’m also physically disabled, and can’t move around often. I also have to have surgeries every now and then because of the chronic illness I have.

I am in serious, dire need of money, both for my tuition fees, and hopefully to be able to live. I have to keep us afloat until I can get married in a couple of years, since I can’t live alone. Besides, my dad doesn’t deserve to suffer with his heart problems.

I tried working with dentistry last year, and that worked for a while, but this year no one’s hiring due to the terrible state of our economy. I have no skills aside from my writing, so that’s what I’ll have to work with. I’m getting seriously desperate, so I hope you guys understand why I’m doing this, and hopefully feel inclined to offer any support you can—even if not financial, but just by reblogging this post!

[2b4st4r]

Hello! I noticed your requests are open! May you please do a fic of woman reader x Thatch. Established relationship. I'd love to see a fic where the reader is going through horrible stress from work as an office worker and has started to act different because of it. They're grumpy and snappy but not disrespectful. They feel guilty for how they've acted towards their sweet partner and go cry in the bedroom instead of sleeping like they said they would. Thatch notices an instantly goes into Papa bear mode and comforts the shit out of her with praises and teases to get her to laugh and when that doesn't work some sweet or mean (I'll let you pick hehe) comforting tickles would do the trick then a fat nap would ensue for both of them as the air feels lighter and things are back to normal. I love that man! I feel like he'd be the sweetest yet most teasing boyfriend/husband ever.

The Secretary Storm 

Thatch x Reader

Words: 2,819

Warnings: emotional breakdown, verbal outburst, relationship conflict, and use of y/n. 

Sorry if I did him wrong!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The tremor started subtly, a familiar vibration in the Moby Dick's sturdy hull that usually meant Whitebeard was simply shifting in his sleep. But lately, those tremors had escalated, morphing into full-blown quakes that rattled your teeth and sent ink bottles dancing across your desk. Being the Whitebeard Pirates' secretary for three years meant you were no stranger to chaos, but this past month had been a maelstrom of paperwork, emergency meetings, and frantic attempts to keep the ship, and its crew, from capsizing under the weight of Whitebeard's increasingly erratic behavior.

"Another one, huh?" Thatch's warm voice cut through the din, and you felt his gentle hands on your shoulders, kneading away some of the tension that had practically become a permanent fixture in your muscles. You leaned back, a sigh escaping your lips as his scent, a comforting mix of spices and something uniquely him, enveloped you. "Rough day at the office, sweetheart?"

You managed a weak chuckle, the vibrations from Whitebeard's latest outburst still humming in the air. "Rough month, more like. He almost took out the crow's nest this morning trying to scratch an itch." You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his touch for a moment. Thatch, your sweet Thatch, had been your anchor through it all. He was always there, a steady, comforting presence, offering a soothing word, a warm embrace, or a perfectly timed joke to ease the relentless pressure.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His smile was soft, understanding, and in it, you saw a promise of calm amidst the storm. But even his unwavering support couldn't fully alleviate the gnawing worry in your gut. Whitebeard, your beloved Pops, was going through something truly "crazy," as the crew whispered. And as his secretary, it was your job to keep the ship afloat, even when its captain threatened to sink it with a single, massive sneeze.

You reached up, threading your fingers into Thatch's soft hair, and pulled him down for a quick, firm kiss. "I've got to go," you murmured against his lips, "I'll see you later."

He squeezed your shoulders one last time. "You got this, sweets. And I've got to get to the galley anyway. The crew's stomachs are probably rumbling loud enough to compete with Pops right about now."

A Day in the Life of a Whitebeard Pirates' Secretary

The ship's clock had barely chimed 9:00 AM, and already your day was a spiraling descent into bureaucratic hell.

You were in the main deck, trying to mediate a shouting match between Jozu and Vista over who got the last takoyaki from breakfast. Suddenly, the ship lurched violently. Whitebeard, in his infinite "wisdom," had decided to use his Devil Fruit ability to scratch an itch on his back against a passing iceberg. The resulting shockwave sent Jozu's diamonds clattering and Vista's sword skittering across the deck. "Pops!" you’d yelled, exasperated, but he was already drifting off, oblivious to the chaos he’d wrought.

Next, you were wrestling with a stack of supply requisitions, trying to decipher a scribbled note from Haruta about "more sparkly things" and "less… well, less boring stuff." Just as you thought you'd finally made sense of it, a loud clang echoed from above. You rushed to the deck to find Fossa, looking sheepish, next to a smoldering hole where the main mast's flag should have been. "Accidentally ignited it," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely with his flaming elbow. So much for the new Whitebeard jolly roger.

The afternoon brought its own special brand of torment. You were in the medical bay, attempting to organize Marco’s ncredibly… enthusiastic medical supplies, which seemed to consist mostly of brightly colored potions and giant mushrooms. Suddenly, the door burst open and a frantic crewmate dragged in another, covered head to toe in what looked suspiciously like melted caramel. "Thatch’s new dessert experiment went… sideways," he gasped. You stared at the sticky mess, then at the mountain of paperwork on your desk, and felt a vein throb in your temple.

Later, you were back in your office, trying to update the ship's log when the tremors began again, stronger this time. Your inkwell tipped, spilling black liquid across the freshly written page about the ship's dwindling cola supply. Then, the entire desk rattled, and a small, porcelain teacup, a gift from Izo, slid off the edge and shattered on the floor. You stared at the broken pieces, the black ink spreading, and felt a scream building in your chest.

The final straw came as dusk settled. You were attempting to file away some crucial navigation charts when you heard a series of loud thumps from the deck. Rushing out, you found Marco trying to reattach one of the Moby Dick's giant figurehead whales, which Whitebeard, in a moment of playful exuberance, had apparently tried to "teach to fly." The sight of the half-dismantled figurehead, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of the day, finally broke your composure. You just stood there, hands on your hips, staring at the chaos, a long, drawn-out groan escaping your lips.

Everywhere you turned, there was another problem, another task to add to the ever-growing pile, another consequence of Whitebeard's unpredictable moods. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd had a moment of true peace. How were you ever going to get everything done?

You were a coiled spring of raw nerves, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Every attempt to salvage the day had backfired spectacularly, leaving you with nothing but a headache and a lingering scent of burned pirate flag. Your grumpiness had reached legendary proportions, even for you.

Later that night, nestled in the familiar comfort of your shared bunk, Thatch was recounting his day. His voice, usually so boisterous, was a soft murmur in the dim light, weaving a tale of a particularly stubborn batch of sea king calamari and a minor explosion in the galley. He chuckled, reaching for your hand, but his words trailed off as he realized you hadn't spoken a single word in response. Your jaw was clenched so tight your teeth ached.

He slipped off the bed, rounding to your side, and gently pulled you into his arms from behind. You tensed, bracing yourself for… you weren't even sure what. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, and a shiver ran through you, despite your irritation. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You just grumbled, a low, guttural sound that was more animal than human. You didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to relive the parade of calamities that had been your day.

But Thatch, bless his persistent soul, wouldn't let up. He leaned over your shoulder, pecking your cheek, then your temple, then your neck again. "Come on, my grumpy little secretary," he cajoled, his voice a playful tease. "Tell your, ‘huzz’ as the kids say, what's got you all tied up in knots." He gave a final, gentle kiss to your hair. "Spill it."

You couldn't hold it in anymore. The day's relentless tide of frustrations, the constant struggle against Whitebeard's unwitting destruction, and the sheer exhaustion of it all finally reached a crescendo. The pressure under your skin, the hot, eager anger simmering just above boiling point, demanded release.

"It's everything!" you yelled, the words tearing from your throat, sharp and ragged. You twisted in his arms, facing him now, your eyes probably blazing. "It's the flag burning, and the figurehead trying to fly, and the spilled ink, and the endless tremors, and the fact that I can't get one single thing done without something else going catastrophically wrong!" You gestured wildly around the room, as if the very air was complicit in your torment. "He's going crazy, Thatch! And I'm the one picking up the pieces, all day, every day, until I feel like I'm going to snap in half!"

It wasn't aimed at him, not really. It was the accumulated fury of a hundred tiny aggravations, the raw edge of a nerve stretched too thin, finally fraying and breaking. The words hung in the air, thick with your barely contained rage, leaving you panting slightly, the sudden silence almost deafening after your outburst.

The words hung in the air, a raw, ugly sound that had ripped from your throat. The second they were out, a wave of regret washed over you, cold and immediate. Thatch's hands, which had been so comforting around your waist, slowly, carefully, dropped away. His expression shifted, the playful teasing melting into a soft, almost worried look that twisted your gut.

You took a hefty, shuddering breath, your chest tight. Tears welled in your eyes, stinging, but you stubbornly held them back. You wouldn't cry. Not now. Not after that.

"I... I'm going to sleep in my own room tonight," you mumbled, the words barely a whisper. It was an old habit, one you hadn't indulged in nearly a year, not since you’d fully moved into his bunk after your marriage. Without another glance, you turned and walked out of what was now, truly, his room.

"Y/N, wait—" His voice, quiet and concerned, was cut off by the soft click of the door as you shut it behind you.

You reached your own room, a space you hadn't truly inhabited in months, the silence a stark contrast to the familiar sounds of Thatch's soft breathing and shifting beside you. The click of the door latch felt definitive, a final punctuation mark on the awful, exasperating day. The tears you'd been fighting all day finally broke free, a hot, stinging stream that blurred your vision and traced salty paths down your cheeks.

You stumbled toward the bed, the familiar mattress feeling foreign beneath you. Every muscle in your body screamed with exhaustion, a deep, bone-weary fatigue that no amount of sleep seemed to alleviate. You buried your face in the pillow, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body, but it was no use. The dam had broken.

Guilt, sharp and agonizing, twisted in your gut. You hadn't meant to yell at him. Not like that. Thatch, sweet, understanding Thatch, who had spent the entire day trying to soothe your frayed nerves, had only offered comfort and you had repaid him with a torrent of your own frustrations. His worried face, the gentle drop of his hands – it replayed in your mind, twisting the knife of regret deeper.

The stress, the relentless, suffocating stress, was a physical weight on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Whitebeard’s unpredictable outbursts, the endless paperwork, the constant sense of being on the brink of disaster—it was all too much. Every small, annoying incident from the day resurfaced, each one a fresh spark igniting the embers of your self-recrimination. You were drowning, and you had just pushed away the one person who always tried to pull you back to the surface. The tears flowed harder, a raw, uncontrollable release of everything you'd been holding in, wishing desperately you could rewind the last five minutes and just apologize.

Nearly twenty minutes later, your sobs began to quiet, leaving you with a raw throat and aching eyes. The storm had passed, leaving only a heavy calm in its wake. That's when a soft knock sounded from outside your door. You tensed, your breath catching in your throat, not daring to hope.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing no one other than Thatch. He stood framed in the doorway, a soft, understanding smile on his lips, a stark contrast to the worried look he'd worn earlier. He wasn't angry, not even distant. He was just... Thatch.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he murmured, his voice a gentle balm to your frayed nerves. He walked slowly towards the bed, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor. "Figured you might be feeling a bit better now. It’s okay, you know." He sat on the edge of the mattress, not too close, not too far. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed. And it's definitely okay to tell me when things are getting too much. You don't have to carry it all by yourself, Y/N."

He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before gently stroking your hair. "We're a team, remember? Always."

At his words, at his gentle touch, the dam that had briefly held back your tears broke once more. Fresh sobs wracked your body, sharper now with the added sting of guilt. You didn't deserve him, not after how you'd just acted.

You buried your face in your hands, the shame burning hot behind your eyelids. "I'm so sorry," you choked out, the words muffled, tasting of salt and regret. "I didn't mean to yell. I didn't mean any of it. I just... I was so angry, and it all just came out, and you don't deserve that. You never do."

Thatch didn't hesitate. He shifted closer, pulling your hands away from your face with a tenderness that only made you sob harder. He gathered you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. His chin rested on the top of your head, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a grounding presence amidst your turmoil.

"Shh, hey," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. His hand stroked soothing circles on your back. "It's okay, Y/N. It's really okay. I know you didn't mean it. You were overwhelmed, sweetheart, and you're allowed to be angry when things are tough." He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze unwavering, full of warmth and understanding. "You're allowed to be human. And I'm here for all of it. The good, the bad, and the 'wanting to punch an iceberg' moments." He gave a soft, reassuring squeeze. "You never have to apologize for feeling things. Not to me."

Your body still convulsed with quiet sobs, your hands instinctively rising to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds. You hated being this vulnerable, this broken.

"Hey, hey," Thatch murmured, his voice a low, soothing hum against your ear. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

Slowly, his comforting presence began to work its magic. The desperate jerking of your body lessened, your breathing evening out into shaky gulps of air. His fingers traced gentle, repetitive patterns on your back, a silent promise of comfort. After a few minutes, the raw intensity of your emotions began to recede, leaving behind only the dull ache of exhaustion. You pulled your hands down, revealing eyes that were raw and bloodshot, but no longer streaming tears.

Thatch's thumb gently wiped away a stray tear from your cheek. "Feeling a little lighter now?" he asked softly, his gaze tender and unwavering. "Ready to talk about it, or do you just want to pretend today never happened?"

You just looked at him, your red-rimmed eyes wide, before a small pout formed on your lips and you covered your face again. The lingering embarrassment was still too much.

Thatch chuckled softly, a warm, melodic sound that always managed to soothe you. "Aw, come on now, don't hide that pretty face," he teased gently, his voice laced with affection. "You know, for someone who spent the entire day fighting off an emotional hurricane, you're looking pretty impressive right now. And honestly? Watching you go full 'boss mode' on a rogue iceberg is pretty hot." He paused, letting that sink in, then added, "Plus, you successfully wrangled Jozu and Vista, which I'm pretty sure is a feat even Whitebeard himself struggles with. You're a miracle worker, Y/N."

When you still didn't respond, though a small smile was trying to fight its way onto your face, Thatch's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Alright, if praise won't work..."

Before you could react, his fingers were wiggling, then darting to your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You shrieked, a mix of surprise and laughter bubbling up, twisting away from him as genuine giggles finally escaped your lips.

You shrieked and giggled, twisting away from his relentless fingers. Your laughter, a sound that had felt entirely alien just moments before, bubbled up freely. You gasped for breath, tears of mirth now streaming down your face, entirely replacing the tears of sorrow.

Thatch finally relented, pulling his hands back with a triumphant grin. "I knew that'd work," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling. He then gathered you gently into his arms, pulling you close against his chest. Your body, still weak from crying and laughter, melted into his warmth. He held you tightly, his presence a solid, comforting anchor in the stormy sea of your day. You buried your face in his shoulder, feeling the last vestiges of stress and anger finally drain away, replaced by the profound, comforting knowledge that you were safe, loved, and exactly where you belonged.

[sparks-and-smoke]

I was about to send in a request and noticed that I went through your work already because one after another is on my dashboard. So little side note: your work is so damn good, it’s amazing and I really and enjoy and love it.

For the request: how about some sweet mob Bucky? Not sure if you’re up to write mob but I have a soft spot for him so I just ask hehe. Maybe she’s new in town and he visits her little bakery more often than not becuase he takes an interest in her?

Characters/Pairings: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Content/Warnings: none that I can think of?

Author Note: This took me forever to get too! I am so sorry. Hope you still like it. :) My first time writing mafia. Hopefully I got the tone right.

Direct Benefit

L'endroit Le Plus Doux was one of the only places in this borough that had authentic french pantries. Sure, Bucky could have gone across town. Over to long island or into Manhattan to find the treats he was looking for but he liked to support local. At least that was what he told his men when he saw him coming in week after week with boxes from the same little place in Dumbo. What could he say, he's a giver like that.

It had nothing to do with the sweet thing that worked behind the counter. No, he came here for the Pain au Chocolat, and the Almond Frangipane. Of course. Her sweet smile and innocent giggles are just a lovely by product. He would never admit that he pays you're boss extra to know you're schedule ahead of time, or that he make sure his tips went toward upgrading the floor mats so your feet don't hurt. Or that he paid for new uniforms so you could get out of that hideous orange apron that didn't do you're skin justice. no, keeping his office stocked with delicious fresh pastries was the ultimate goal. Which was why he came in precisely at 8 am every few days, pocket book at the ready to place his order for next week and pick up his goodies himself.

Could he have sent Sam or Steve to do this. Absolutely. Was he going to do that? No. Never, this was his little treat for himself. His own little bubble of happiness. And his men were never going to lay eyes on you until he had you locked down and claimed. Preferably with the deed to this building in your hand and a rather large rock on you're finger.

He lets himself in through the back door of the bakery, not bothering to let Alphonse know he was coming. He owed him enough money keeping this place afloat that he best be on his best behavior all the time.

"Good morning Mon rêve." he greeted, voice warm and dripping with mirth as he watched you, your eyes focused tongue poking out between your teeth as you concentrated on filling tiny copper tins with a thin custard like batter.

"Good morning James." you chimed back but didn't so much as lift you're eyes as you focused on the task at hand. You had been awake since 3 am, in here trying to get this recipes just right in time for the mid morning rush. It wasn't an uncommon bakery schedule. Pastries were often prepped over night so that they were ready for the next day. But this particular addition to the menu was taxing, seeing as you were currently the only chef here that knew how to make them properly. And the bakery had dropped a pretty penny on the tins that allowed them to be made at all.

"Good morning James? Good morning James… that's all I get today?" he grumbled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he leans on your counter. "That's not very polite of you Mon rêve."

you sigh but still continue to fill the molds. "I'm sorry I would jump for joy but as you can see I am in the middle of something."

Bucky lifts a brow and scans his eyes over the trays of tin molds in front of you, each about the size of the palm of your hand and all made very specifically from copper. "I can see that, but I figured you can at least spare me a glance. I come here very especially for you, you know." When you don't look up he sighs again, his frustration mounting. Picking up one of the molds he turns it over in a tattooed hand. "Is this where all my funding is going. For cute little tins? I would figure Al had better things to spend my money on. Maybe we will have a conversation today…"

Finishing your first few trays you set down your ladles and look over at the moody man who is eyeing your canele mold suspiciously. He looked lovely as always. In a dark impeccably tailored suit and well maintained leather loafers. A simple sliver chain hanging around his neck beneath his maroon dress shirt. And you know as soon as you step close he will smell just as good as he looks. The patron of the bakery, and the man that makes you melt like butter every time he comes in. James Buchanan Barnes.

You don't know what he does, and you've never bothered to ask because judging by the way your boss stumbles over his words and blanches like a sheet every time he stops by, you can assume it's something untoward. "That…" you say leaning forward and taking the tin. " …is a canele mold. And once you try one of mine you will understand why we payed so much for them."

Bucky easily lets go of the little mold but grabs your arm with a swift hand, gently tugging it to his mouth. Placing a tender kiss to you're wrist bellow you're glove. the blush you give him seems to balm whatever irritation he had at his lack of greeting. "He bought the tins for you?"

"Well, sort of, I learned how to make caneles when I studied abroad. They are my favorite treat from Paris, but they are really hard to make and not a lot of people know how. So, when I mentioned that we should add them to the rotation because they are rare in the area and might bring traffic in. Alphonse dropped some cash to add to may collection of tins so I didn't have to bring my own."

Bucky listened intently as always. It was like every time you spoke his attention whittled down to you and you alone. It was insanely hot. Not that you've ever told him. "Well, in that case. He can spend however much he wants."

You rolled your eyes, but Bucky was serious. Alphonse knows that his funding comes with two caveats.The first being that all his money had to directly benefit you in someway with receipts. And the other being that he turns a blind eye to how much time he spends back here flirting with his favorite pastry chef. "I think I need to try one of these, what do you call them, Caneles…"

You smile, knowing that he would insisted on a bite. He always did. Every knew confection and treat was ran by Bucky. If nothing else because he was always here when they hit the cooling rack. "They are a simple custard like pastry, but they are baked in these tins with a coating of beeswax and butter that give them a texture unlike anything else." You explain, leading him over to a rack full of the little bunt looking pastries. "I have done three flavors for this first trial run. Classic vanilla, a coco variation, and a matcha which I think will sell well with younger patrons."

"You have put a lot of thought into these little chef." Bucky watches the way you move. Even in your uniform you are stunning. The sway of you're hips, the lilt of you're voice, the passion you put into everything you do. It sets him on fire. It makes him want to dominate that passion and bring it to heel just for him. To hone it and condense it, and demand its full focus.

"Well like I said, they are my favorite." You chatter on, unaware of the laser like focus of the man behind you. Looking you over like you are the most delicious thing in this kitchen. "What flavor do you wanna try."

"Vanilla, have to start with the classic so you know where to go from there." the innuendo seemed to go over your head as you popped one into your hand.

"Here you go." You hand every intention of handing him the treat but when you turned to face him Bucky was far closer than intended. His tongue darting out over his full bottom lip before dipping into take a bite out of the treat in your hand with a definitive crunch. You pause as you watched his calloused finger wipe away the crumbs from his mouth with low moan of appreciation.

"Delicious, as always." he purred, so close you could almost feel the rumble of his chest. "You should try a bite, Mon rêve."

Plucking the pastry from you're hand he held it out to you're mouth. The sweet smell of honey and brown butter mixing with the subtle notes of lemon and sage in his cologne. Your body trapped between the warmth of him and the cold metal of the cooling rack as you parted your lips to let him slide the treat inside. You had tried them already, you have to while baking for quality assurance but… this one seemed to melt in you're mouth as you drowned in the icy blue pools off his gaze. Unwavering, instances, and completely trained on you.

You hadn't realized how long you had been staring when you heard Bucky speak again. "Are you going to swallow?"

That time the insinuation was too blatant to ignore as you pushed the pastry down, covering your mouth as your ears burned hot red.

"Good girl."

[hellishjoel]

ride

7.2k // pairing:dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: Joel whisks you away to Houston for the weekend under the guise of a work trip. You keep a secret from him to try and keep your fling undetected from your parents. warnings: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, dbf/neighbor!joel, smut, swearing, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel in his 40s), pet names, fingering, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v (shower sex hehe), a little overstim if you squint

A/N: sorry not sorry this chapter took a month+, but I hope you like it! A little drammaaaa. and a reminder, they still have all day saturday and sunday together ;)

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You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-”  “Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles.  You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat.  “There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,”

June 23rd 7:48 P.M. 

I’ve had some time to think about Joel, and how much I like to think about him, and how things aren’t an accident. 

Thinking about how unlikely it is that we sparked. 

How Joel could have turned left, and I could have turned right. But we didn’t. 

Instead of running away, I said yes, and so did he. 

The impossibility of us seems so incredible, almost unbelievable. 

I love that so many things had to happen for us to be where we are right now. 

I saw the sun melt his eyes into amber, and he liked the way I smiled in the moonlight. 

This feeling was radical, unnerving, scary. 

I didn’t know why it was called falling or crashing into love. Perhaps I do now. 

“You could sit there and read all day, huh?” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he starts to guide his truck off the freeway, passing a large aluminum Welcome to Houston! sign lit up by the truck’s headlights. 

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, cheeks squished from smiling as his hand settles on your upper thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles on your sweet skin.  

“I’m not reading anymore. Got too dark.” He’s referring to the novel you brought for the trip from your to-be-read pile that you started when you first got on the road. 

The drive from Austin to Houston was two-and-a-half hours long, so you decided to saddle the passenger seat with different activities and snacks to keep yourself busy and out of Joel’s hair, much to his behest. He said he enjoyed letting you ramble on about whatever you were thinking about; said it was like listening to a podcast.  

“But I am writing.” You hum quietly, penning in your last thought before it gets lost in the black of night. 

“What’cha writin’, then?” Joel's curious eyes wander to the nest you had made for yourself in the passenger seat as he tilts his chin up to try and read beyond your journal cover. 

You snap it closed and slip the pen in somewhere between the pages. “Keep your eyes on the road, old man.” Your tone is teasing, making you grin even more as he grumbles in annoyance under his breath as the truck slowly approaches a stop light. 

Once off the freeway and down to the local roads, you roll the window down. You watch the moon start to rise in the sky, feeling goosebumps grow on your arms and exposed legs while the wind lazily flows through your hair. The gentle night breeze is welcome to air out Joel’s stuffy truck. 

You were supposed to be his navigator once he got off the freeway, but you were a bit preoccupied looking around yourself. 

You and Joel left Friday evening as soon as he was done with work, and now you were lightly coasting the streets of Houston as the sun finished setting. You could see the diverse architecture of downtown, the skyline of skyscrapers and high-rises were all crowded together. As you moved further into midtown, Joel drove past small businesses and parks. You let your hand float out the window, surfing the wind like a wave. 

“Hey, space cadet, if you’re not gonna give me the directions to the motel, the least you can do is toss me a french fry.” 

Your head cocks back to him, curiously smiling as you reach your hand aimlessly into the fast food bag, retrieving a fry and bringing it up to his lips. You settled on McDonald’s before you left Danbury, partially because Joel felt like being a little cheap, and you agreed they had the best, saltiest french fries. 

You feed it to him, and he teasingly sucks the salt off your fingers. 

“Gross, Joel.” 

He sneers as he watches you wipe your hands on your thighs to rid yourself of his saliva. “You like it.”

He’s not wrong. You force yourself to look back out the window again to hide the heat creeping up the back of your neck. 

Joel smirks and squeezes your thigh to bring you back to him. When you look over to the handsome man donning his usual green flannel, the wind furles your hair in messy, unkempt streaks. 

He hesitates for a moment, but now that you’re no longer preoccupied with reading or writing, he holds your hand. You feel him test the waters, settling for just lightly clasping it in your lap, but it’s not enough for him. His thick fingers and calloused hand meets the heart of your palm as his fingers weave with your own. He lets out a little sigh and settles himself there. 

You feel like teasing him. You’re afraid to hold my hand but not to fuck my throat in your woodshed with a party right outside? But then you remember how difficult it was to kiss him. It still felt like a slip-up, you had to admit. Especially if this was supposed to be just a casual relationship. It felt intimate and emotionally charged. But it was just kissing, right? And this was just holding hands. 

Your thoughts wrestle around your head a bit. Joel feels it. You’re not sure how he always seems to know what you’re thinking, but he does. His thumb strokes a gentle line up and down the muscle of your thumb, a silent way of saying stop thinking for once.  It’s appreciated, the sense of care and thoughtfulness he provided without even speaking a word. 

Ever since he took you to that bar, Past Lives, all you could think about was Joel. Joel on repeat. Joel taking you away from the distracted environment of the lakehouse. Joel showing you the map, saying there was more to the world than Texas. Joel kissing you. Joel touching you. Joel fucking you. Joel protecting you. Joel saving you. 

As much as you’ve had time to reflect on Joel, you’ve also reflected on your parents. They were hardly bad people, but they didn’t respect your adult choices. You came to tearfully realize that your relationship with them had slowly deteriorated since leaving for university. You grew independent, and that was especially hard for them. Something you had trouble understanding, something Joel didn’t understand either. 

You called Joel Thursday night before your trip under the guise of asking if you should pack any specifics, but the conversation ended up landing on his relationship and parenting with Sarah. You told him how you appreciated the way he let Sarah grow and experience things, that it was good for her. 

“She’s a tough girl, and I trust’er. Nothin’ much left to say.”

“So, what-” you stumble and scoff over the phone. “My parents don’t trust me? Or think I’m not tough enough to tackle the world?”

“S’not what I’m sayin’, darlin’. I don’t know what’s up with your folks. But you don’t need their approval, you’re an adult. All you need is t’… t’ trust yourself. Sounds fuckin’ cheesy, but it’s true.”

You pause, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as your eyebrows furrow, thinking over his words. “Y’think if I act a little more confident about it, they’ll start believing it too?”

Joel’s chuckle is a little crackle-ey on the line as he wanders around his house talking to you, going in and out of good reception. “Gotta start somewhere, buttercup. At the end of the day, it’s about your happiness, not theirs. Don’t gotta be such a people pleaser all the time.” 

Yes, I do, you think. 

“Thanks, Joel.”

“Sure thing, hon’.” 

Dusk on the outskirts of Houston. The houses become few and far between. There’s more green grass and flourished trees. Joel slowly pulls into a small driveway, a large blue neon-lit sign designated that you were at your motel for the weekend. The entire truck is highlighted in a pale blue from the illumination, you nearly have to squint. There were no more than two or three cars parked outside. It was a two-level motel, with an outside staircase to navigate the different floors. 

“The Blue Swallow Motel.” Your attention strays to Joel with furrowed brows. “Why here?” 

Joel shrugs and navigates himself into a parking spot with ease. “Don’t know. Like blue swallows.”

Curiosity sparks you. 

“You like blue swallows? You’ve seen one in person?” 

He shakes his head and says nothing for a moment, but it almost looks like he can’t help himself to dispel some information. “They’re native to Africa, only ever seen the North American variants  ‘round here.” He lets the engine grumble down once he pulls the key from the ignition, but you’re still awestruck in his passenger seat.  

“I’m sorry- Joel Miller Bird Enthusiast?” The eager tone in your voice gives away your excitement, and Joel seems to despise it when you get too excited about him. He has to close his eyes and hang his head, wishing he never said anything. 

“Oh, Joel Miller, don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen those bird guides on your bookshelf, you’re a birder.” 

His neck swivels, eyes wide and defensive. “I am not a birder.”

You throw your head back in laughter, and eventually, he cracks a smile. “They’re interestin’, okay?”

You playfully pat his shoulder with reassurance, nodding in agreement. The two of you settle down from your fits of laughter and look over the exterior of the motel once more. 

“Y’said you wanted somethin’ quaint? Small?” 

Being with Joel and having no other distractions was your goal for this weekend. Since this trip was coming out of Joel’s pocket, you insisted you didn’t need some fancy hotel. You’ve traveled to Houston a handful of times before, and the last thing you wanted was for your view outside some high-rise hotel to be Danbury in the distance. 

You squeeze his hand once more and nod, stars lighting up behind your eyes. “It’s perfect. Thanks for finding something simple.”

Joel teeters on your appreciation but ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Could’ve gotten something a little nicer for ya, maybe closer to downtown-”

You stop him right there and bring his rough knuckles to your plush lips, adding a kiss to each one. “I said it’s perfect, so it’s perfect. I like it, it’s got charm, chutzpah even. Plus, looks like we’ll have the pool to ourselves.” You hum with a devious little smirk. You hop out of the truck and open the backdoor to grab your things. 

“Pool, you say?” He retorts, an eyebrow raised with narrow eyes on you. You lightly shrug as you grab your backpack. 

“Might have forgotten my swimsuit, though. Shame.”

You brush past Joel, who is scoffing lightly under his breath in disbelief, duffel bag brushing against his calves as he walks with you towards the motel office. You would be the death of this man. 

“Damn shame.”  He mutters, a smirk hanging low on his lips.

---

Room 135 was marked on the dark chestnut door, a small white plate with black numbering decked on. 

There wasn’t much to be said about the motel room itself. You tried to stifle a laugh when you and Joel both walked in to see two separate queen beds. The sheets were white, but the top cover was an extravagant red pattern that looked like it got lost in the 80s. A side table was resting against the wall towards the headboards with a beige telephone placed on top, resting over a few local restaurant menus. Two small lamps were attached to the wall above the beds, perfectly opposite of the television sat on top of a tall dresser. 

“Is this your idea of a romantic getaway?” You teased as you walked further inside over the beige carpet. “Two beds don’t exactly scream romantic.” You set your backpack down on the foot of the bed furthest from the door and closest to the bathroom around the corner. You assume this bed will just be used to hold both of your luggage, not a person. 

“No,” Joel said through a tight gruff as he strained to lift his bag of tools and luggage onto the edge of his own bed. “S’a work trip. Not a romantic getaway.” 

Your smile falters as you purse your lips and fiddle with your hands behind your back. 

“So, this really is a work trip?” You clarify, to which Joel looks at you a bit confused. 

“Course it is.” 

A light boil simmers through your chest. Maybe you will be sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel could sense your flattened mood, and he quickly felt the need to sweep up the pieces of what he broke. He was bad with words, terrible really, but he tried to find the right ones for you. 

“I said that wrong. It’s a work trip but,” he trails off and falters as he saddles his hands on his hips for a moment and sighs, your doe eyes looking up to his own. “But I brought you here to spend some real time with ya. Didn’t wanna,” he shrugs and rolls his eyes. A classic Joel Miller sign that he wants to say something a little personally emotional. 

“What?” You probe him, a smile tickling your lips as you loop your hands to rest just above the ones on his hips. “You didn’t want to what, Joel?” You ask, setting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a goofy grin. 

He sighs and rolls his eyes again, having a hard time looking at you. “I didn’t wanna go on this trip alone. Didn’t want to leave you at home when I could bring ya with.” 

Joel wasn’t a social man. In fact, if the world went to shit, you think he might really enjoy the solitude. But for him to admit that he would rather have you in his space than out of it, it’s quite endearing. 

Now you’re the one who's hiding a blush. You settle your cheek against his chest and sigh, soaking in his scent and his warmth. Joel’s hand comes to rest on the side of your head, gently stroking your hair away from your face as the two of you relax into a gentle hug. 

“Were you serious about that no bathin’ suit thing?” He asks after a moment of silence, causing you to roll your eyes and shove him a good distance away. 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You sneer as you round the bed to the bathroom, needing desperately to relieve yourself after the drive. Of all colors, it’s a beautiful mint green. Incredibly retro, you think as you use the toilet and stare at the shower absentmindedly. You roll your phone around in your hands once you finish washing them, a lump rising in your throat. 

Your mother’s words echoed in your ear. 

“If it gets serious, we want to meet this young man.”

There was no young man. The young man your mother referred to was really Joel. Panic was spreading through your body just at the thought of trying to fix this situation. They figured out you were seeing someone, they just didn’t quite know who. A few heavy breaths labor out of you, anxiety nestling in your chest. 

“You okay, buttercup? Been a minute.” Joel asks cautiously from the opposite side of the door, his knuckles offering a few polite knocks. 

Your chest surges. You didn’t want him to know you’d slipped up, half-told your parents the truth. You didn’t want him to end things out of fear of them finding out. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, Joel. Just.. gimme a minute.” 

His feet don’t move on the other side of the door. He doesn’t want to leave you, feeling something slightly wrong. 

“Really, Joel, just- checking out the facilities.” God. 

He sighs before you hear him back off. “Alright. Lemme know f’you need anythin’.” 

You need to act, or else this feeling will eat you alive. Finally, with some accurate cell service, you text the first person you think of. Nathan. Remember that childhood crush of yours? You hadn’t seen him in years, and with how gorgeous he was growing up, there was a scary feeling that you might be texting a man who had a girlfriend. But he was your only hope to cover up the mess you had made. 

Growing up with Nathan and his parents being friends with your own always felt like a setup. Your mothers always cooed that you two just might end up marrying one another. At the time, you wished it was true, that all this exposure with him would lead to something romantic. But then you grew up, saw each other a little less over the summers, and grew apart. You still kept in contact via social media, but not often. You saw his life in pictures. One from a homecoming dance, a group picture of him and his friends, an action shot of him playing basketball, a high school graduation picture, and a similar one for college graduation. He was still alive somewhere out there, you just didn’t know him like you used to. 

Nathan was always kind, goofy, very golden retriever-like. Summers spent apart created a rift, but he was your childhood best friend and crush once upon a time. If he was willing to help you out, you owed him big time. So you shoot him a text and cross your fingers that this is still his number. The last thing logged in your messages was a silly conversation about cheetahs versus jaguars. You were team cheetahs, obviously. 

You felt a slight sense of relief once you came up with a plan. Talk to Nathan. See if he can act as your fake boyfriend for your parents. See if he doesn’t think you’re damn crazy for concealing your forty-something-year-old fuck buddy. 

You’re not really sure how to reignite the conversation, it’s been so damn long. You stare at the blank screen before you craft the brilliant message: 

Hi

A sigh leaves your parted, anxious lips, and you shove your phone away. 

---

You really did bring a bathing suit, much to Joel’s eagerness for the rumor to be true. You change into it with your back turned to him. You feel his eyes boring holes into you, sending a small dash of goosebumps up your arms. “I’m going for a dip before bed.” You say as you fiddle with the strings of your bikini top, struggling for a moment before you feel a warm presence step in behind you and fuss away with the strings himself. 

You hum softly as he fastens the strings, making a bow at your midback. Joel’s lips brush against your shoulder before they start sponging gentle kisses up your neck. The hair you tied up into a loose bun tickles his nose. 

“Such’a pretty girl.” He hums against your skin, a soft shiver trickling up your spine, lips parting in pleasure. “Too bad you’re not a very good girl.” Joel murmured as his hands slipped lower, past your hips, past the curve of your ass, until he was cupping both cheeks in his large palms. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his fingers squeeze at your flesh. A moan escapes your lips, you just can’t help it. You love it when Joel is handsy for you, the needy one. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn in his arms, eagerly kissing him as you cup his cheeks. He fights for control instantly, pulling you in at your hips so your back arches backward out of habit. You let your head dip back, eyes dipping closed as his lips trail down your neck, then between the valley of your breasts, all while his wiry beard creates scratches in his wake. 

“Do you have swim trunks?” You ask breathily, shoving him lightly by the top of the head further down your body. He drops to his knees and continues to trail kisses down your stomach. 

The question catches him off guard.

“Do I- what?” He asks breathily, looking up at you as he sponges kisses over your clothed center. 

“If you don’t have swim trunks,” you try to continue, “you can’t go swimming with me.” You say with a teasing smirk, stepping around Joel, who was awestruck kneeling on the ground, his hands still in place where he was cupping the backs of your thighs before he slaps them down on his own to show annoyance. 

He was probably thinking how you just up and disappeared when you were just standing in front of him a moment ago. Joel grumbles something, but you’re already out the door of the motel room. 

---

The pool is glowing in its blue hue, lit by dim lights around the perimeter and the silver moon in the sky. 

In a world so vast, you couldn’t help but feel a little lost in wanting to explore it. 

You take a breath in through your nose and test the water with a dip of your toe. A bit cold for your liking, but the warm Texas summers make your skin sticky and the air a bit stale. So you dive in. 

The cool water is a shock to your system at first, with goosebumps growing on your skin like wildfire. Your face breaks the seal of the water, emerging over the light ripples you created upon diving in, catching your breath. You take a few leisurely laps along the outskirts, feeling weightless, free. 

“Nice night.” Joel’s brassy voice breaks the gentle chorus of the summer cicadas. You hum as you carve your way through the water until you meet the pool’s edge. You rest your arms on the lip of the pool, bringing your breasts just above the surface of the water. 

“Get. In.” You say with an authoritative voice, despite your eager smile. 

He cocks his head a few degrees to the right, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No. You look like a shivering chihuahua.” 

His joke elicits a giggle from you. 

“It’s only cold for the first few minutes. You’ll warm up.” You’re only half-lying, the pool was so fucking cold. 

Joel merely shakes his head. “You’re crazy, buttercup.” 

You hum as you push off the edge of the pool, moving towards the center, letting the water dance around you as your arms glide back and forth to keep you afloat. 

“Sounds like you need some motivation.” Your eyes lock on Joel’s as your fingers navigate to the back of your bikini strings, slowly pulling the tie loose, feeling the water aid you in floating the material off your upper half. The top strings around your neck are still tied, concealing the full reveal of your breasts. 

Joel’s once secure face fizzled, eyes straying and lips parting. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he kneels down, pointer finger curling towards him impatiently.  “Get over here.”

You shake your head disobediently. “Now.” His barking urgency makes you stifle a smirk. 

“Joel Miller afraid of a little cold water.” You shrug and move your fingers to the strings tied behind your neck, slowly tugging loose the threads. The material falls limp into the water, floating in front of you free from your body. 

Joel watches with impatience, the spill of your breasts making his cock twitch inside his swim trunks. The mesh material was forgiving, allowing him to swell at the sight of you. The cold water has your nipples taut, drawn into sweet peaks. You’re just out of his fucking reach, too far into the pool for him to grab you. 

He grunts quietly, jaw tight as you slowly swim closer to him. You shiver at his glance alone. 

“If you want me,” your voice drops innocently, doe eyes making their appearance to reel him in, “you’ll get in the pool, Mr. Miller.” 

Just out of his reach once more, you swim back to the center and push your thumbs into the band of your bikini bottoms, down your legs, leaving you bare in the pool for anyone to see from the highway or their own motel rooms. You must admit, Joel’s desperate gaze filled with want makes you squirm with excitement. Disobeying him lights that explosive even more. 

He offers you his hand, one final offer.  “Last chance, angel, get out of the pool.” 

“Why do you even have swim trunks on if you aren’t going to get in?” You ask, eyes gazing over the tangled hair he has scattered across his chest. 

“I was hoping these would appease you alone. Now come here,” he juts his hand out as an offering one last time. 

You roll your eyes and swim closer, your breasts lapping in the water as you take Joel’s hand. And tug with all your strength. 

His feet skid to try and hold him back, but he ultimately summersaults into the pool. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to conceal your laughs as Joel emerges, sopping wet, cold, angry. 

“Y-You-” He chatters his teeth, eyes screwed tight on you as he pushes his hand back through his soaked curls and down his face, grazing his wiry beard. “You’re gonna get it.” 

Joel’s threat makes you squeal. You attempt to doggy paddle away, but the grip he catches on your arm is iron.  He pulls you back to him, and your body glides through the water, arms securing on his biceps once you’re locked in his hold. He’s threatening, but not as much so when you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his half-hard length. 

You raise your eyebrow at him, and he half-chuckles. 

“Such a fuckin’ piece of work you are.” He grunts out, hands searing the flesh of your hips as he skirts his hand down lower, cupping the globes of your ass. 

A hum tickles your throat as you lean in and press your lips to his jawline in a tempting kiss, smiling as Joel’s nose playfully nudges yours, leaning in for more. 

It’s stomach-twisting how you feel so comfortable with Joel, how you sink into his body, and how he warms your core. You kiss him until your lips feel bruised, and he grips your beautiful curves with eagerness. The two of you kiss like hungry teenagers, finally outside the watchful eyeline of your parents. Joel’s cock is hardening against your naked core.

He forces himself off of you, groaning lightly as he strays from your eyes. Cupping his jawline, you angle him back to you, resting your foreheads together. 

“Makin’ me get all riled up like a damn teenager.” His warm breath puffs across your face, his words make your bundle of nerves tingle. 

“I like that I’m the one causing it.” 

Joel chews at the inside of his cheek before giving you a tight little nod. “Me too, buttercup.”

---

Joel decides pool play is over. He gets out first, snags your bikini pieces that floated to the edge of the pool and starts walking leisurely back into the motel room. 

He only hears your cursing and belligerent rambling after he returns from turning on the shower, piping hot. 

“Can’t hear ya when you’re chatterin’ your teeth.” 

Joel returns to the bathroom and strips his swim trunks off, still half-hard. He tests the water with his hand, giving you an affirming nod it was okay to step in. 

You’re still angry and seething, having to streak your way back to the room naked and freezing your bare ass off. He looks at your crossed arms and playfully tuts. “You’re the one that thought t’drag me in there with ya, princess.” 

Joel follows you into the shower, the water splashing searing hot droplets. It only feels that hot because you’re readjusting from the pool’s temperature. You find yourself huddling into Joel’s warmth. 

He finds it endearing, the way your head settles on his chest, your ear to his heart, too chilled to let him go. He angles the showerhead downwards, letting it focus on your body first. He could wait. 

You gently release your crossed arms, letting them wrap low around his hips. He had a few extra pounds of flesh low on his tummy and on the sides of his waist. You gently pinch the area and smile. 

“Stop that.” He hisses, eyebrows knitted together. 

“But I like it. You’re my favorite person to hug.” 

The sentiment splashed warmth on the back of his neck. Joel has picked up a few extra pounds from town barbeques, and beers tossed back during football games. He used to not like it, the way he had to loosen his belt after a big meal, or having to purchase his new t-shirts in a size up. He didn’t think about it much, but naked with you in the shower, feeling you admire his ever-changing body, was a comfort. 

You look up after a few moments of silence, setting your chin on his chest and feeling his chest hair graze against your skin. 

Joel wants to warm you up, get you to relax under the showerhead. He presses a nimble kiss to your lips, pitter-pattering kisses along the extent of your body before he is down on his knees, angling your back to rest against the shower wall. 

Tired after your car ride and melting under the shower’s sprinkling water, you ache for a relief that will come from your head hitting a pillow. But Joel had other things in mind, things that would make you forget you were tired in an instant. 

Now under his watchful eye, lips and wiry beard scratching at your soft skin, you lightly part your legs for his entrance. God, please don’t let me slip and embarrass myself right now. Let me have this one good thing, this man’s tongue against my pussy would make me a God-willing woman. 

Joel can feel your exhausted body, begging to find a bed. But he had you where he wanted you, and his mouth was watering to taste your sweet musky arousal. His hands settle themselves on the backs of your thighs, supporting your weight as his head leans into your warmth. 

He brings two fingers forward, parting your center, licking a slow draw up your core. His tongue flicks off your clit, your bundle of nerves twitches. Something flips in his stomach, and his cock grows heavy against his thigh. 

You taste sweet and serene, something he’s grown an appetite for. With several days apart awaiting your weekend trip away, he often found himself at night, spilling into his hand thinking about your young, beautiful pussy flushed against his mouth. He takes this opportunity to relish in you moaning his name, without any curious ears. 

His tongue sinks lower, swirling around your tense entrance. The swell of his tongue gushes more arousal from you, and he gets a proper taste that isn’t mixed with water from the shower. 

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, and he laps at your clit like a famished man. 

The constant flicks have you gasping for air in the all-too-warm shower. Your fingers weave into his soaking wet curls, still finding a grip as your thigh twitches against his hand. 

Joel’s two fingers parting your center gently massage at your entrance, wiggling in gently as he suckles on your clit, and you mewl weakly. 

His tongue and teeth lightly graze your sensitivity, feeling stars clouding your vision as his fingers set a gentle pace. 

“Ooh,” you sigh weakly, feeling his fingers hit the perfect spot, one that makes you shake. 

Joel knows that sound, knows the feeling. He looks up, admires the way your pretty lips are parted in bliss. The hand on your thigh is brought to your stomach, gently stroking over the flesh. 

You watch him a little curiously, a little fucked. His mouth returns to your clit, but his hand still falters on your lower abdomen. You whimper as he adds a little pressure, and quickens his fingers. It’s jaw-dropping, the friction and pressure, piling on top of each other.

You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-” 

“Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles. 

You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat. 

“There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,” he grunts, jaw tight, and teeth clenched as he watches your cum-arousal mixture glide down his fingers in a sticky mess. He slowly stands, watching you pant for air, as he sucks his digits clean with an evil smirk. 

The temperature in here is too much, heat consumes your body as you weakly grip his biceps. 

“God damn, Mr. Miller.” You say breathlessly. You take him in a quick kiss, moaning weakly into his mouth at your taste. His tongue tangles with you, and he keeps his fingers on your core. His first two fingers start to slowly circle your clit again, but it’s entirely too soon. 

You whimper weakly into his mouth, your clit aching and still recovering from your oral orgasm. 

“Mmm- can’t do it, Joel.” 

Joel snarls as he swiftly turns you around, his foot hitting the insides of both of your ankles to spread your legs. Your face is plastered against the shower wall, watching him out of the corner of your eye with your jaw dropped. 

“Be good for me, baby girl, show how thankful you are.” 

You whine at his raspy voice, feeling its timbre bounce against the walls. 

“Please,” you beg in a whisper, inching your feet farther apart for him to take you in the shower. 

Joel strokes his cock, seething through his teeth at the desperate relief he’s feeling. His swollen tip vies for your attention. He lines himself up, his other hand on your hip as he notches himself inside. 

You visibly flinch away, Joel hushing you softly as he tries again. 

“Gotta relax for me, pretty girl.”

You sigh weakly and let yourself melt with the warm water, fluttering your eyes closed as you gently jut your hips back into this, needing to be filled. 

Joel tries again after lining his tip up and down your slit and gathering your arousal. He notches inside of you once more, causing your eyelashes to flutter. He slowly presses on. 

The drinks must have really loosened you up since the last time the two of you fooled around in his truck. He wasn’t so hard to take then, but now he feels thicker, rounder. You could feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock as he ruts his hips into your ass. 

Finally, you will yourself to breathe, moaning his name in desperation. 

Joel’s trying to contract his lungs, but you’re gripping onto him so tight, the heat of the shower going to his head. 

You hum and purposely grip your walls around him, squeezing for his last breath. 

Joel snarls and smacks your ass from below, watching the fatty flesh jiggle. It stings, but you like it, thinking about his large handprint marking you red. He winds his hips back up and presses in, groaning lowly as he fills you to the brim. 

He sets a decent pace, one that robs you of what air you have left in your lungs. Your entire body feels sensitive, your cheek growing sore from being fucked against the shower wall. But it feels entirely too good, a certain itch that only Joel Miller can scratch. 

Every thrust he makes, you moan his name like a broken record. “Joel, Joel, Joel,” you moan and grunt it so much, that it starts to sound like it’s not a real word anymore. 

You reach back an arm blindly, gripping his bicep and stitching your nails into his skin. 

Joel grunts out weakly, the burning sensation you caused on his arm making him go wild. He reaches for both of your wrists and plants them at the base of your back, forcing your face to be your only weight to keep you up against the shower. 

But it unlocks a new angle, one that has you crying out curses and his heavenly name. 

“Fuck me, Joel, fuck- fuck your favorite little pussy,” you mewl out, feeling his cock twitch inside you. 

“God dammit, fuck me good like that, like that,” your eyes clench close, panting heavily. “Right there, daddy, please, Mr. Miller, touch my clit, please,” you beg, the pet name rolling off your tongue. 

It makes him snarl. He sets a hellish pace. His chest puffs up, his broad biceps locking around you as his fingers stroke over your pussy. 

He loves the way you wind him up. Because you are his favorite young pussy, one he’s made his own, railing you so good that you forget about anyone else that may have had you before. 

All you know is Joel Miller. 

His thighs and lower tummy smack your ass cheeks, a distinct slapping sound filling the shower and pinging off the walls right back into your ears. 

Stars flutter behind your eyes, you feel light-headed. The water splashes warm across your back, allowing Joel even more slip. 

The harder he fucks you, the closer he moves in. Now he has his entire torso flushed against your back, flicking his hips up into you with precision. 

Suddenly he’s grabbing your leg by the underside of your knee, hiking it up, and planting it against the shower wall as he exposes a whole new sensation. 

You can’t last any longer. His fingers circle dangerously around your clit, and now he’s pounding you into the wall, forcing friction against his glorious thrusts. You whimper loudly as his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly, feeling your walls clench around him as you come. 

It’s jaw-dropping, heart-surging, mind-fucking how good he feels coming inside of you. It’s warm, warmer than the water still raining over you. It’s comforting the way his seed spreads throughout your core, his grunts filling the shower as he drops his last load inside of you. 

And goddamn, he loves how you milk him dry. 

You weakly slide down the wall, tiredly dropping your leg once he pulls out. 

“No ya’don’t.” Joel quickly says, snagging a strong arm around your waist and hauling you up. You whimper as he peels your face off the wall, blinking rapidly as he spins you to face him. “C’mere.” Joel embraces you, and you lean weakly into his front like a bear hug. 

“Water,” you whisper against his pec. He turns the shower temperature down, a more comforting heat surrounding you now. 

“You’re alright.” He assures. 

After time to recuperate, Joel reaches for the shampoo bottle, squirting a small amount into his palm and lathering it between his hands. You feel a little better standing, but you still stay wrapped up in his arms, in his hug. 

He massages the shampoo into your locks, gently massaging it against your scalp, before he gently washes the bubbles out. He gathers conditioner next, letting it soak into your ends.

You hide your smile against his chest, knowing that he probably had to learn this type of stuff for Sarah. Hair care, skin care, tampons and pads, all the sort of stuff single dads fear. You wonder whatever could have been in Sarah’s mother’s mind to leave a guy like Joel Miller. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but he seemed to fit into your life like a glove right now. For however long that perfect fit would be.

A weak sigh leaves your lips as he strokes your head sweetly, his fingers then grazing your cheek. 

“Y’alright? Feel good?” 

You nod weakly and smile, letting your arms drop gently as you pull away. “M’tired.”

Joel stifles a chuckle and nods. “Me too, baby. Sit tight.” 

Once Joel is assured you’re not going to lose your strength standing up on your own, he shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, wrapping his towel low on his waist. You gaze at the lines around his hips, and how they dip down into his towel. 

You clear your throat as you quickly look away once he approaches you with two towels. He wraps one around your shoulders, gently moving his warm hands up and down the sides of your arms. 

You look so sweet, warm and cozy, cum-filled, at ease. The stress he usually sees you carrying around is wiped away. He hoped he had something to do with it. 

Joel leans down and presses a light kiss to your lips. Not hungry, not desperate, not chasing. Delicate. Assuring. 

You smile tiredly and shyly evade his eye contact, something that he hates to admit is goddamn adorable on you. 

Both of you towel dry off any remaining droplets of water. Joel forces you to show him how you even get the towel you wrap around your hair on your head. 

“This is girlhood, Joel Miller.” You say once you secure it on, watching him shake his head in disbelief. 

“A mystery to me.” He says with a boyish grin.

You both exit the steamy bathroom and search your bags for pajamas. You packed a few comfy shirts for bed. And only one extra pair of panties. You better be damn careful with your one last sacred pair. You toss it back into your pack for now, deciding that they would probably be taken off in the morning anyway. You slip under the covers of Joel’s bed, saving him a space you hope he fills. Of course, he does. 

Joel flips off the light switch, indulging the room in a black and blue hue. He grunts quietly as he slips into the covers. The both of you just melt into the mattress. 

You nuzzle into his side, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He makes gentle circles into your back as your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You sigh and turn your back to Joel to retrieve it from the charger. 

“Your parents askin’ if we made it okay?” Joel murmurs tiredly, eyes closed, waiting for you to return to his side. 

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s a text message from Nathan. 

Hey stranger

“Yeah,” you lie, your fingers gliding across the keyboard to configure a response. “They uh.. They’re tellin’ me to not bug you too much on the trip.” You awkwardly chuckle, your back still turned to him as you stare at Nathan’s message. 

Joel dryly chuckles as he reaches a hand out and settles it on your hip. “Quite the opposite.”

You feel terrible concealing this from Joel. But you don’t want him to think you were young and foolish letting your secret fling slip. This was to make things work, to keep the secret buried from your parents.

Another message from Nathan makes your phone buzz in your hand.

Heard you’re in Danbury for the summer with your folks. Wanna catch up? 

Your heart sits in your throat, shocked by his ask. 

You flip over your phone, opting to reply in the morning. You’re beat. You sigh weakly and return to Joel’s side, hiding your face in his shoulder as you gently kiss along the muscle. He was already passed out. 

As messy as this felt, being with Joel felt like being tossed a life jacket in open water. And you weren’t going to lose that safety, not if you could help it.

---

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[mayajadewrites]

jjk men x christmas morning

prompt: christmas morning with the jjk men

mentioned: geto, gojo, nanami, choso, and toji

christmas fluff hehe ❄🎄🎅🏻🎄❄

authors note: for toji's one shot, megumi is 5-6 years old

suguru geto: Suguru tends to seep into seasonal depression during the holidays, so Christmas morning isn't as magical as it was when you were a child. He keeps to himself, making sure his mental health stays afloat while also being present for you.

This holiday season has been especially tough for him and your relationship, but you will do anything to make it work.

After tossing and turning for almost an hour, you finally meek up the courage to wake Suguru up.

"Sugu." You whisper, watching his chest move with his breaths. His eyes fluttered open, revealing his chocolate eyes.

"Good morning my love." Suguru half smiled, kissing your forehead.

"Merry Christmas Suguru." You bury yourself in his chest, while his arms wrap around your body.

"Merry Christmas. Do you want to go downstairs?"

"Why? I haven't brought the presents down yet." You tilt your head curiously.

Suguru was silent as he grabbed your hand and led you out of the bedroom. The apartment you shared with Suguru was so cozy and warm, making it hard to ever leave.

You walk down the stairs and see the Christmas tree lit up with piles of presents underneath it, along with a tray of cookies with a bite taken out of one.

"You did this? For me?" You grab Suguru, hugging him tightly.

"This is your favorite holiday, I wasn't gonna let you wake up and not feel the magic." He pressed his lips to yours gently, pulling his body into yours.

"You're gonna be such a great father." You look up into the pools of chocolate in his eyes.

Suguru did a double take when you said that.

"Are you...?"

You grab the small present on top of the table with a red bow, handing it to Suguru. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."

As Suguru neatly opened the present, his eyes lit up when he saw what was inside the box. A pregnancy test with the word "positive" as well and a + sign.

"Baby," Suguru paused and twists the test hin his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I wouldn't want to start a family with anyone else." You rubbed your stomach lightly.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

satoru gojo: Satoru adores Christmas. Since you moved in with him, he has hyped up the holidays and how much he decorates his home.

The place you share with Satoru is currently covered in green, red, elves, and Santa Claus. Every single room looks like a scene from a Christmas movie.

"Sweetness." Satoru said in a sing-song way from the kitchen. "Come here."

You listen, Satoru hearing the your feet pad through the hallway.

"Yes, Satoru?"

"Look what I got!" He held up a mistletoe, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows looked almost cartoon like as they moved.

"Very cute." You watch as he lifts the mistletoe over his head and purses his lips. You push yourself onto your tip-toes and kiss his lips softly before he pulled you back in to snake his tongue into your mouth.

"Satoru," You giggle, gently pushing his chest. "Let's open gifts now. We have to head to my parents house soon."

"Well, they love me so we can be as late as we want."

"We're not going to be late to my parents Christmas dinner because you cannot keep it in your pants."

Satoru rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out. "Not like you weren't thinking about it too."

You turn around to go to the Christmas tree, noticing all of the mistletoes hanging from several spaces in your home. "Satoru...."

"It's gonna take us awhile to get to the tree." He picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist, stealing a kiss. "Merry Christmas, sweetness."

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

kento nanami: Kento Nanami finds the holiday season exhausting - working long hours so he can afford to get you anything and everything you want for Christmas. At the end of the day, however, he loves the smile that appears on your face when you see Christmas lights and decorations. Christmas mornings with you consist of a eating Christmas cookies and baking other treats - something you and Nanami enjoy doing together.

"Kento, what shape should I make this batch?" You hold up two different cookie cutters. "Snowman or Santa?"

"Hm..." Kento tapped his chin, glancing at each of the cutters. "Santa. It's Christmas morning."

"Good choice." You smile as you pressed the Santa shape to the cookie dough. "Can you pass me the chocolate chip cookie dough?"

"Of course, beautiful." He grabbed the bowl and brought it to you, moving a piece of hair out of your face. "God, how did I get so lucky?"

"You are so sweet." You look into Kento's eyes, watching him study every detail of your face. "Thank you for making this Christmas morning my best yet." You mix the dough, bringing the spoon to Kento's mouth. "Taste."

Kento opened his mouth to let the spoon in and nodded in approval. "Amazing. I almost can't wait for them to be done already."

"It's my grandma's top secret recipe." You wiggle your hips with excitement, scooping the dough onto the baking sheet.

"I can't wait to meet her today." Kento wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You speak to highly of her."

"Christmas is her favorite holiday, like me." You lean back onto Kento's chest. "She's the best."

"I don't doubt it." Kento planted a kiss on your cheek before walking to the living room. "Let's watch a Christmas movie while we bake. Love Actually?" He held up the remote in your line of vision.

"It's like you were made for me."

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

choso kamo: Choso is a family man. He adores his brothers so much that he wants you to get along with them just as much as he does. Specifically, his little brother Yuji Itadori. You spent Christmas Eve with his family at their cabin, fully immersing yourself in Choso's family.

Christmas morning was full of wrapping paper and Christmas songs – the picture perfect Christmas.

"Baby, are you enjoying yourself?" Choso sat next to you on the couch. "You're quiet."

"I'm just... taking everything in, Choso. I've never had a Christmas morning like this. Laughs, smiles, music, all of it."

You never had a big family like this and adore how much Choso loves his family.

"I'm so glad you're here." He kissed your temple, glancing at Yuji. "He loves your gift the most I think."

You gifted Yuji a polaroid camera – he mentioned a couple of times that he loves having photos from moments that he wants to remember forever.

"I hope he loves it."

"He will never love it as much as I love you." Choso closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours gently. His hand caressed your face, causing you to smile against his lips.

"Choso!! Get a room!" Yuji whined.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

toji fushiguro: As a single dad, Toji has a hard time with Christmas. His son, Megumi, is his world but he has never been great at the whole Santa thing. This year, you helped him bring the magic.

"Daddy!" Megumi ran out of his room, gasping as he saw the decorations. Toji helped you set up the cookies, while taking (several) bites out of them, a gulp of milk, and shoe prints (Toji had to put on his work boots, walking through the house as quietly as he could so he didn't wake Megumi up) to make it look like Santa was there.

"Santa was here! Look at all the presents!!" Megumi hugged Toji's legs, earning a head pat from Toji.

You're leaning against the doorway in your bedroom that you share with Toji, smiling at your boyfriend being a dad. Toji turned around and flashed a smile at you, waving his hand for you to come over to them. He handed you a cup of freshly made coffee, briefly kissing your lips before Megumi interrupted.

"Look!!" Megumi called your name. "Santa came!"

"Oh wow!" You kneel down to Megumi's level, gasping at the piles of presents. "You must've been at the top of the nice list this year."

Megumi began opening his presents, showing both of you every one he got from Santa.

"You did good." Toji kissed the top of your head, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist.

"We did good." You emphasized the we, leaning into Toji's side. You sipped your coffee and watched Megumi open all of his gifts, then there was one left in the tree.

"Megumi, are you gonna open that one?" You look at the small box in the tree, not remembering setting that up last night.

"That's yours from Daddy."

"What?" You look at Toji as he walked to the tree and grabbed the box. Next thing you know, he's on one knee.

"Will you marry me?" Toji smiled as he opened the small box, your dream ring shining in the morning sun.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

authors note: merry christmas everyone!! i had fun writing these, i've had these one shots on my list of to dos for awhile and i loveeeeee me some jjk men!!

[ficnation]

Chapter 4

Series: The Cockroach

Word count: 1,2k+

Pairings: Negan Smith x Female! Reader; Lucille Smith x Female! Reader; Negan Smith x Lucille Smith

Warnings: injuries, usual twd themes

A/n: Well... that was fast. Hopefully, I can write my other series just as fast as this one hehe

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Main Masterlist || "The Cockroach" Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

The despairing cries that tore from your throat shattered Lucille’s heart. She held you tighter, pressing your face into her chest, trying to muffle the sound—but it didn’t make the pain any less real.

Your whole body shook uncontrollably, wracked with sobs that you couldn’t contain. Lucille didn’t know what to do to help you, to make it all better. She kissed the crown of your head, whispering soft reassurances, her hand rubbing slow, steady circles on your back—a grounding, constant motion.

Negan sat silently in his chair, watching. It had been hours since you turned up on their doorstep, your fists slamming against the wood with what little strength you had left. When he’d opened the door, you hadn’t hesitated—you’d thrown yourself at him, arms winding around his waist, your face buried in his sweatshirt.

It was weird.

You hated him. He wasn’t exactly fond of you, either. But the way you clung to him, shaking, silent—he’d known right away.

Something was really fucking wrong.

So he’d pulled you inside, led you to Lucille, and the moment you saw her, you’d completely fallen apart.

That had been hours ago.

And you still hadn’t spoken.

Lucille’s voice was a quiet plea, coaxing, desperate. “Honey, talk to me.”

But you only shook your head, violently, your face still buried against her.

Lucille sighed, glancing up at Negan with a helpless look.

Negan met her gaze but didn’t speak. He didn’t know what the fuck to do either. If this had been anyone else, he would’ve forced them to talk by now. But you—he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you like this.

Your hair was a tangled, bloody mess. Your hands and face were caked with dirt and gore. The cuts on your cheeks looked bad—really bad. Your clothes were stiff with dried blood, clinging to you like a second skin.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Jesus fucking Christ.

“We should clean her up,” he muttered finally, the concern in his voice foreign even to himself.

Lucille shook her head. “Not yet.” She adjusted her grip on you, rubbing slow circles against the back of your head. “Shh… it’s okay, darling. You’re safe here.”

Negan exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. He trusted Lucille to know what was best for you. She was your friend, after all.

But what the fuck had happened before you got here? What had done this to you?

You clung to Lucille like she was the only thing keeping you afloat, fingers fisting the fabric of her sweater as though letting go meant drowning. She was your anchor, the warmth of her embrace keeping you from slipping too deep into the dark waters of your thoughts.

The need for comfort, for safety, was overwhelming.

And Lucille gave it to you without hesitation.

Eventually, your sobs quieted. You weren’t shaking as much, your breath no longer coming in broken, panicked gasps.

Lucille felt the shift and pulled back slightly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “Please,” she murmured, her voice gentle but insistent. “Tell me what happened. Let us help.”

You swallowed hard, your throat raw from crying. You wanted to tell her—you needed to—but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was still reeling, every thought tangled and jumbled, the weight of fear sitting heavy in your chest.

You needed Murphy.

“Please,” you whispered hoarsely, voice barely above a breath. “Not now.”

Lucille searched your face, her concern deepening. But she didn’t push. Instead, she gave you a small, understanding nod. “Alright,” she said softly, squeezing your hand. Then she stood and pulled you gently to your feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Then we’ll talk.”

You nodded. You knew she wouldn’t let this go forever. She’d want answers. So would Negan.

But right now, all you could do was follow where she led.

Lucille sat you down at the worn wooden table in the middle of the room. Negan took a seat across from you, his arms resting on the surface. He looked tired.

“You feelin’ any better?” he asked gruffly.

You nodded, still caught off guard by this softer version of him. Since you could remember, the two of you had only communicated through sarcasm and glares. Now, here he was—actually checking in on you.

It was strange.

You let yourself breathe, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension in your body eased. For the first time since you arrived, you took in your surroundings.

The Smiths’ basement had been completely transformed. Where there had once been a burgundy leather couch you despised, there was now a bed. The TV and Negan’s matching armchair remained. A row of mannequin heads sat by the bed, each sporting a different-colored wig. The windows were boarded up, the only light coming from battery-powered candles on the table and a dim bedside lamp.

Lucille returned with a wet cloth, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers. “Hold still,” she murmured, dabbing at the dried blood on your face.

You flinched when she hit a particularly sore spot.

“Sorry,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Negan watched, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

When Lucille reached for the hem of your shirt, she hesitated, searching your face for permission. You gave a small nod.

She lifted it carefully, peeling the fabric away from your skin. The moment the shirt hit the floor, she sucked in a sharp breath.

Negan cursed under his breath.

Your torso was a mess of bruises—deep, ugly splotches of purple and green. Your ribs bore the worst of it, and the cuts on your arms ran deeper than they’d realized.

Lucille turned to Negan, their eyes locking in silent horror.

Negan clenched his jaw. Any lingering jealousy he’d felt earlier vanished, replaced by something far worse.

Who the fuck had done this to you?

“She needs a proper shower,” he muttered.

Lucille nodded. “C’mon, sweetheart,” she said, helping you to your feet.

She led you to the small bathroom, and when you stepped under the warm spray, the weight of exhaustion finally crashed over you.

By the time Lucille guided you back to bed, your body felt heavy, every muscle sore.

She tucked you in, smoothing your damp hair away from your face before pressing a final kiss to your temple. “Get some rest, honey,” she whispered.

You barely heard her. Sleep pulled you under before she even stepped away.

Lucille and Negan sat at the table, speaking in hushed voices, their eyes constantly flicking toward your sleeping form.

“What sick motherfucker hurt her like that?” Negan muttered, his voice sharp, barely restrained.

Lucille shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her gaze full of worry. “And I don’t think she’s ready to tell us yet.”

Negan let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Wouldn’t be smart to push her.” His grip tightened into a fist. “Shit. I can’t believe someone did that to her.”

Lucille nodded. “We’ll find out. And when we do—” her voice dropped to something cold—“they’ll pay.”

Negan clenched his jaw. He wasn’t the sentimental type, but guilt settled in his gut. He hadn’t been there to stop whatever happened to you.

And that didn’t sit right with him.

“We need answers,” he muttered.

Lucille’s voice was calm, but firm. “She needs to heal first.”

Negan knew she was right. But that didn’t make it any easier.

His gaze drifted back to you, his expression hardening.

Whatever sick bastards had done this—

They were going to fucking regret it.

@whiskeypowder @hopefulatrocity @witheringblooddemon @humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff @spidergirla5 @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @witchygagirl @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @missbeentertainment @theoraekenslover @thatlebronchick @acezeyez

[prentissluvr]

omgg i completely forgot to ask but what were some of your sammy thoughts you had while you were on vacay?? 🤭

oh ngl i think i posted most of them lol

aCTUALLY WAIT NO I FORGOT i think i might turn this into a full set of headcanons but i'll give a little sneak peak hehehe

so basically i was on vacay and thinking about him the whole time because i have an unhealthy obsession with him and tendency to daydream about my muses 24/7 !!

basically i was at this shared family cabin up in canada! and it's super isolated and quiet and remote and surrounded by water! like you have to take a boat to get there etc etc hehe and i was just thinking all about what it would be like to go up there with sam and dean on a break from hunting!!

tw: lowkey mention of drowning lol

mostly you just swim in the lake that you're surrounded by and it's just so relaxing and lovely. if they don't already know, you teach them both how to drive a boat, and they're both quite good since it's not too hard.

and i imagined lots of swimming with both of them!! they'd both love it so much and spend just about all day in the water!! dean would refuse sunscreen and get burnt to a crisp LOL he also can't stop complaining about the bugs lmao.

i'm also thinking about night swimming with sammy aaaaa. it's like 99% soooo so so romantic. the water feels extra nice because the cooler air makes the water feel warmer by contrast. then you've got the stars, clear and bright in the night sky and the gorgeously big moon, dappling white light across the dark water. and of course there's sammy, keeping you close to him at all times, hands slipping over your body under the water, lips pressing to your forehead and mouth over and over again. if you're lucky you'll hear a loon too!! and it's the most hauntingly beautiful sounds that accompanies the light splash of water against the shore, the boat rocking against the dock, and the water swishing around you each time you move. AAAAA I NEED THIS SO BAD NOW and also the 1% is docked because there are so many fucking mosquitos at night so it's like :/// sucks so bad unless they're magically not bothering you lol.

and also! more swimming stuff! this would be cute for if you're not dating yet because like. hehe romantic tension. but the last day i was swimming i got a cramp in my foot KJSDFHS it hurt so bad and i would've literally (not literally i'm being dramatic) died if i didn't have that pool noodle on me LOL. anyways but like!! swimming out kind of far from the dock and then you get a foot cramp and are having trouble treading enough water to stay comfortably afloat. maybe you try to swim back but foot cramps hurt like a bitch! and sam and dean are just getting into the water and you're like "dean! please come save me i have a foot cramp lmao" because you have the hugest crush on sam and you feel to embarrassed to have SHIRTLESS HIM COME AND SWIM YOU TO SHORE LIKE ??????? anywaysss dean literally doesn't hear you because he's playing music from a speaker on the dock. but sam does and he's swims over to you in like two seconds flat and loops an arm around your waist and tells you to hang onto him and then brings you back to the dock, helps you out, and then makes you sit on the edge while he massaged the cramp away ??? and i'm dead??? because you were pulled flush up against him and his BARE CHEST ??? and you looped your arms around his BARE, WET NECK??? and he's holding your waist with his big big arm and big big hand and singlehandedly swimming the both of you back to shore?? and he's all worried for you and he's flustered from having you so close to him but he's more concerned about you. and you're flustered of course and he takes it as a little bit of fear from almost maybe drowning so he's being sooo gentle and caring and i'm going to throw up about him

anywayyyssss hahahahahhaha yeah! just other cute stuff like them being impressed by your boating skills or your yummy yummy cabin meals. sharing experiences with them from your childhood and other things that you only get there that they didn't know were so special to you before. but now they now, and they experienced it with you <33 and it's overall just really great bonding time, especially because there's no internet LOL (there technically is now sometimes but we ignore that unless necessary lol) anyways! and it's just so relaxing

it's also definitely an amazing place to be drunk, never done it myself but it seems so amazing and relaxing tbh so they would also really enjoy that!

other things would be early mornings with sam! waking up with the sun and sitting on the porch together, curled up with a blanket and hot cocoa to ward against the morning chill. you'd listen to bird calls and catch sight of beavers. you'd take him kayaking one morning and he's so big he might tip over the boat and fall in if he's not balanced enough LOL but it's the best time to see wildlife so he wants to go! you might see beavers and turtles or otters if you're really lucky! and ducks and loons and you can point out the eagle nest and tell him stories from past years. you prove to them that you can roast the best marshmallows when you build a fire a night and they both love coming to understand how the place works and seeing how comfortable you are in this little piece of home from your past.

OKAY YEAH MORE THAN I WAS TRYING TO WRITE BUT I HAD SOOO MANY THOUGHTS like i said i'll probably turn this into at least an official headcanon post someday because i love it too much!!! eNJOY BESTIE ILYSMMMM

[absolutspace]

the party ended an hour ago and he's still here she just arrived.gif

hi lovelies, i'm izzy, arriving fashionably late with my little meow meow nakyung in tow! i can't wait for you all to meet her - she's constantly balancing the fine line between finally getting her shit together and losing her marbles. been there, done that right??

i wrote a lengthy profile and a full bio on her (smooches if you actually read it all) - if not, no worries! you can find a short summery about her right under the cut. before that, the most important thing!!! tiny collection of plots for your choosing ... but since it really isn't a lot, i can't wait to dive into brainstorming with you all! hehe!

( ฅ˶˙ᴗ˙˶ ฅ ).ᐟ‪.ᐟ

[ currently viewing this page as @/venusfantaisie] … did you see? yesterday, IM NAKYUNG(SHE/HER) was spotted at the airport! you know, that 26 year old who was part of that one film's PRODUCTION CREW? the cursed one that they never finished? yeah, they were theMAKE-UP ARTIST! i know everyone already knows they’re GENEROUS and MELANCHOLIC, but i heard that SHE STOLE THE JOB FROM THE FIRST PICK MAKE-UP ARTIST. apparently they’re a MAKE-UP ARTIST now, but i guess they’ve got unfinished business with this movie, or this movie’s got unfinished business with thedfg as the second daughter of family restaurant owners, nakyung got "bestowed" the honour of inheriting and running the family business quite erarly

her older sister minkyung got to study medicine, leading to loads and loads of resentment towards her and their parents.. nakyung should probably see a therapist about that

she always pursued make-up as a hobby, dolling up her friends for their dates or giving herself a full beat just to work in the restaurant kitchen... someone has to serve c//un/t in there

eventually nakyung pulled the plug and left her family and thus the restaurant without a word. now in the hub of the capital she worked anything between five and no jobs to keep herself afloat and pursue her dream of cosmetology school

turns out just having a diploma doesn't earn you jobs who would've thought... she tries her best to gain footing as a MUA but her first proper gig is the mask of all hearts

as unraveling as the shooting was, it gives her career the necessary boost to finally take off. she starts working with rookie actors, shoots youtube content and gains a small social media following... is life finally better???

SIKE... she gets the call from the director and has to reunite with the cast and crew... she's disheartened because this puts a damper on the current trajectory of her career but you gotta do the best of it right....

soooo - i'm dying to plot with all of you!!! i love working out dynamics and headcanons, all i ask is that we both put our brains together, i get demotivated quickly if i feel like all ideas come from me ;;

i'm fine with plotting through ims or discord! (ijibel)

[kidd-commander]

Hey! I'm subscribed on the highest tier on ko-fi and patreon. Hopefully that doesn't cause any problems for things, so I figured I'd give a heads up. Sidebar, is there any other way for me to help support? Kidd Commander is one of my favorite webcomics, and I'm reading over 300 at this point, so I've got a good reference for what does and does not spark joy. I'd be terribly sad to see it go away!

Hey thanks so much!! I noticed that, I was gonna contact you about it before the next billing cycle just in case it was unintentional hehe. No problems here, that's insanely generous of you thank you so much <3

HONESTLY financial support is like, obviously a pretty big priority, but I've also been trying to emphasize lately that outreach by the audience is the thing that's gonna make or break us here! The real issue with Kidd Commander is that there's always been very little growth. The folks who read it have always been super enthusiastic, and they DO tend to go on to do things like set up pledges and such which is wonderful! I am extremely thankful anybody cares in any capacity haha. But for some reason kc readers don't really talk about it to others or post fandom Stuff in fandom spaces, so there's no significant presence to help new folks find it. We've never been able to get the snowball going so it's been like the same handful of readers trying to keep the comic afloat, which isn't fair to them and also just isn't enough to keep the lights on.

A lot of this is my own fault hehe, I've always run this thing pretty old school (things like refusing to bend around Webtoon, or running a longform comic at all as opposed to a simpler humor/romance strip or something) and the way I'm wired makes me really resistant to treating my audience in ways I don't like to be treated. It's not a lack of confidence in the work, I just can't stand trying to market it with clickbait or buzzwords or booktok stuff or any of the cheap tricks that devalue my audience, which is all fine until you're ten years in with less than 200 followers on this blog lmaooo

So I guess! All that is to say, while financial support is definitely the end goal here and in the end that's what's going to make the decision, the way we're gonna find that is by existing readers building a cool fandom for new folks to see and want to be part of. People are really resistant to creators promoting their own work, but readers recommending something is like a superpower. I've actually talked about this exact thing in another post and I think my joke about just straight up making time loop memes with toulouse or your own softer world edits or whatever being extremely helpful is the best suggestion I have right now haha

Regardless of whatever you decide to do, thank you very much for reaching out and wanting to help, and for all the support you're already throwing my way; every tiny bit really does help!!

[milyz]

portgas d. ace x reader hcs. it's international doughnuts day, and he buys reader doughnuts cuz reader loves doughnuts. and he eats doughnuts with reader as a picnic date. hahaha.

[ 5:56 pm ] ━━ International Doughnuts day✧⁠*⁠。

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ info ; hdc this is a cute idea hehe, more fluff from me

the just-risen sun shone softly on the city street's, bringing with it a flurry of early-morning activity. it's been 5 months since you both fell in love and got into a relationship.

Ace was strolling down the street's early in the morning planning ahead a special event since it's international doughnuts day. words can't describe how excited he is to show you the surprise.

you were the most special person he has ever known to love. soon, he enters a doughnut shop, the smell of baked goods afloat him. he knew how much you love raspberries and chocolate especially on sweet pastries.

Ace then makes his way home before you wake up to pack everything. "I hope she likes the plan I made" he uttered under his breath to himself.

as he finishes up, footsteps can be heard above him. by a struck of luck, he managed to pack everything in the car. Ace tried keeping his excitement to himself but failed. he rushes to the bottom of the stairs to greet you.

"[name]! good morning, my love" he howled scaring you almost losing balance.

"oh my god, ace. you scared me" you taken back, hand on your chest. you couldn't help but notice his face is full with nothing but excitement.

"well, you need to get ready! I have a surprise for you. make sure you wear your best dress, preferably a sundress" he affirmed under one breath.

you decided not to question anything and went as he asked. he always did silly things but today was more than just it.

after a while, you are dressed up. you slowly walked down the stairs to see ace in front of the door looking at his watch. he was disregarded with his surroundings.

"I'm ready" your soothing voice echoed through the room. he looks up to only see someone he adores looking like a queen that walked out from a fairy tale.

"wow" he mumbled, completely bewildered by your beauty. his eyes stared at you for a little while before opening the door, like a gentleman for you. ( yk :wink: )

the day then continues, you both arrived at the beach. the sun glister at you, your hair, your eyes, your face, nothing about you makes him think that you're plain. you're the most gorgeous girl ever in his eyes.

he treated you like a princess or maybe a queen. he placed the blanket and brought your favourite food, the doughnuts. you both sat next to each other shoulder to shoulder. the sounds of the wave splashing and the warm sand makes everything feel better about yourself.

"look at what I have" Ace turns his head facing you with a smirk.

"what is it" your head titled go the side, wondering what has he brought for you.

a box of doughnuts was then handed over to you, you sat there in disbelief looking at it. "Omg doughnuts!!" happiness can be seen around you.

"i know how much you love doughnuts and it's also international doughnuts day" your cheerfulness illuminated the whole place. Ace couldn't help but to smile.

"you even got the raspberries and chocolate ones !" giggling, you open the box and was met by an aroma that made you realise, he's the one.

you two enjoyed the scenery together. hands holding, not letting go. everything was perfect. you're perfect, no doubts.

y'all want fluff?? or one piece.. let's see

xoxo, mila<3

[rainbowsky]

Hope you are well 🙂

Assuming you are an adult working in a job, how do you manage multi tasking with regularly maintaining this blog along with job, personal life stuff etc?

I have tried doing many things at once but got tired of it easily 🥲

Hi Anon, I'm doing well, thanks! Hope you are too! 🙂

Hehe, the easy answer to this question is, I don't. I really don't keep up with any of this. I'm just constantly trying to stay afloat.

I have an inbox that is embarrassingly overflowing. Every one of those messages is someone who had a question or something they wanted to discuss, and their message fell into the abyss.

For every 20 asks I get, I might have time to answer one or two that I have the info ready at the top of my head, or that is easy to find the details on. True, some of the unanswered asks are of the sort I wouldn't be likely to respond to anyway (anti messages, repeats of things that I've already responded to, topics I don't want to discuss), but most are not in those categories.

I have a drafts folder that is similarly bursting at the seams, and a long list of posts that I've started and haven't gotten around to finishing. Bigger projects, some of which I have been picking away at for years. Reviews for dramas, films, songs, performances, etc. that haven't yet finished writing about (not to mention the dramas I'm not done watching!). Ask responses that are thousands of words long but not yet wrapped up. A masterlist post that is many months behind updating, and posts that are getting harder and harder to keep track of.

Lately I've been mainly updating with GG and DD's content - all the great photos and videos that only take a few minutes for me to post - and the occasional ask response.

It makes me really sad, to be honest. There's so much more that I want to share that I've been unable to. But I do what I can.

There are a couple of posts in particular that really mean a lot to me, that I've been unable to finish for various reasons - primarily lack of time and emotional/mental energy.

I also have to contend with my ND brain, which requires deep investment to keep a particular post going. I try to answer asks, for example, that I can easily answer in one sitting. If I have to go back to it later, it's often too difficult to find the thread of where I once was, or get back the momentum I had going.

I never give up on finishing something, though. Some things I'll probably never finish, but others I will definitely make a go of. With the holidays here I'm hoping to have more time to focus on my blog. I guess we'll see. 😅

[lixenn]

friendship & lost for chief ♡ equal attention! hehe

Slowly but surely I'm wading through my inbox...

Thank you so much for sending some in for Chief, Jojo! Lovely having you here 💜✨🥹

Putting the answers under a cut because it kind of got super long OTL

Friendship

What's your OC like as a friend?

Dan as a friend is pure contradiction. He will worry about you and nag and patch you up if you get hurt (Dan is majorly mumfriend coded) but he will also roast you to hell and back. Lots of banter and sarcasm involved in a friendship with Chief. Dan is also loyal and quite possessive of his friends, he doesn't really have that many because he's introverted but the friends he does have, he treasures greatly. So if someone hurts them, he is ready to wreck some shit in response. Besides that Dan is more of a listener than a talker, so he will let his friends ramble about stuff they like and just... sit with them and enjoy hearing their voice. Dan as a friend is reliable too. He's the kinda guy that will be at your doorstep at 3 am just because you called him and said you needed help, he will be grumpy if you woke him up thought but he will still be there.

How are they at making new friends?

Making new friends? No thanks, he's fine with those he has. Dan has a lot of rizz but it's best enjoyed from afar because getting close to him can be tricky. Blunt. Rude. Bossy. Scary. Grumpy. All words that fit Dan to a certain degree and it makes approaching him difficult to say the least. Naturally he doesn't seek out new people by himself unless there's an outside motivation pushing him into it, so making new friends isn't really on the table unless someone else takes the first step. And you need a certain type of stubborness or lack of fucks to give to dig deep through Dan's prickly shell and find the gooey marshmallow center. Not everyone is up for that kind of effort which means that Dan's friend count stays low (not that he minds that lmao).

What are the most important friendships in your OC's life?

Dave The day when Dan realised that the gremlin is probably his best friend was the day he locked himself in his room for a day and got black out drunk. What has the world come to? Didn't he use to have standards? Whatever happened to those? *insert even more nonsensical ramblings here* Tbh Chief and Dave's relationship is more complicated than mere friendship, it's this mixture of friends/colleagues/weird family it's not someting that can really be defined. But fact is both of them really care about each other even if the two of them would never admit it in front of anyone unless circumstances are really dire.

Valerie Dear Val kept Dan sane in his early Varia days. He appreciates her logical mind and her humour. He also still approaches her when he needs advice, be it professional or personal, Val is a well of wisdom. Her feud with Dave also gets a couple laughs out of him, it's very entertaining to watch.

Vlasta As mentioned in his profile, Dan and Vlasta are tired deadpan nature buddies. Dan loves all things plant and Vlasta's job is literally plants so this friendship was built on that. While some of Vlasta's escapades really wear on his patience, Dan still consider them a close friend (but can they please stop asking after his sex life? would be appreciated, thanks).

Squalo Not touching the romance, Squalo was first and foremost Dan's friend. It started off as a work relationship but he quickly got fond of the shark even though his eardrums suffer from the lack of volume control. Their friendship was forged in the fires of Varia's insanity and they often rely on each other to keep themselves afloat.

Loss:

Is there anyone important to your OC who has passed away? How did they handle the loss?

Dan has been spared from major loss (or has he?) but in a way he's still familiar with the feeling even though it's on a different... let's say scale. Nobody he was close with has died but he experiences loss on a regular basis simply because of the nature of his job. It's the Varia. People die. Even when they are never supposed to fight. And he understands this but deep down each death, each report that lands on his desk... chips away at his walls, puts a scratch on his heart. Because Chief cares. He might not be close to them, he might just only know their names (because he learns all their names) but even so they were still under his care and in a way he failed them. And that hurts. He doesn't really cope with that as much as he puts it away into a box and throws said box back into the depth of his mind. Compartimentalization for the win!

oc ask: relationship edition

[itsliyahhbih]

Into the spider-verse: Xiomara’s intro

Sum: this is my intro to my au fanfic. Puerto Rico’s Araña-Mujer & it takes place on Earth 906. This starts in Xi’s POV‼️

A/n: The other characters come in later. The story really starts after her intro so this of this rlly as an intro/pt.1 ‼️ In this story Xiomara does end up with Miles G. Morales. HOWEVER, this is being posted as a test to see ‘how good’..this fic is. This is basically a ‘rough draft’ I’ve honestly barely edited this. I have read thru it so hopefully I didn’t miss any BIG errors. I just wanna see if others enjoy this or if maybe I get thrown suggestions. If this does good I’ll possibly continue with this fanfic on here :))

Okay let’s get this started , Hi I’m Xiomara Marina Aguillar . Puerto Rico’s one and only Spider girl. I got bitten by a radio active spider on a school field trip to Oscorp Labs for a career day. My spider bite gave me special venom powers through nails that can temporarily paralyze my victim. As well as camouflage effect that allows me to blend into any surroundings, also my body temperature drops leaving me undetectable to heat vision. I’m 15 years old and attend Visions, the center of advanced studies..It’s..It’s really just a highschool, but I like to remind myself of what my papa said to me. “Mija, you earned your place at that school! I’ll be damned to see stuck up children run you away from a proper education!!” Something my father didn’t have growing up. I tested very highly my whole life and always got good grades, school and education came so naturally to me..friends..not so much.

It was my papa’s dream for me to go to this school , so who was my mother to deny a man on his deathbed his dream for his eldest daughter right?…he..hehe. Yeahhh uh…My pa, he’s gone…He passed away when I was 13 from Cancer, but I don't like to remember him as a Cancer patient! I like to remember him for just being my papa. The one cracking jokes, cooking good food and saving lives as a firefighter…

I always wished he never got sick because then I just know..My life wouldn’t be the way it is now..

Months after my papa’s death my mother went downhill even almost lost her nursing license. She picked up drinking and smoking cigarettes heavily, also picking up extreme hours at the hospital to try to keep us afloat. She liked to claim all the hours were for keeping us afloat..a part of me believed that. That she was still the mami who used to give pep talks and smother you in kisses every morning, but really I knew it was also to feed her addiction..Apart of my mom still wanted to be a mother but sometimes couldn't bare to look at us and so I tried really hard to shelter my siblings from this part of her, but as they got older they became coherent to their surroundings . It was hard for us emotionally and financially, we were even still paying off his medical bills and that alone was a struggle to do.. Don’t get me wrong, my parents both made good money. I wouldn’t say we are DIRT poor as of right now, just struggling.. Those bills were just always a harsh reminder to us that he was gone..

We even lived in a beautiful house when he was alive but the hospital bills, caring for us, our wants and needs no matter what, bills..It swallowed them as his hours at work decreased more and more due to his cancer getting worse. Eventually putting him on disability we slowly got back afloat, but when he passed and we no longer got his disability income we lost our home and my mom lost her sanity. My parents worked so hard their whole lives to get us outta the hood for us to end up right back there . As I stated my mami kinda went..loco, She wasn’t herself any more, gave us no attention and became very cold and mean as the alcohol addiction increased so I picked up the care of my younger siblings and our apartment we moved into after the loss of the house. It was just my moms job to give me her paycheck to get it ALL done..Eventually we would argue about the money and costs of her habits so I had to pick up a job to pick up her slack..But that's enough of my life story let’s just get into it…

To be continued..?

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Considering how much of the Orpheus family's "valuables" turned out to be cheap junk not worth stealing (Daisy's either got lousy taste or is the biggest sucker in the country, and either way is almost singlehandedly keeping several fashion bootlegging cons afloat), Tune's decision to loot the mansion instead of joining in on the fun downstairs almost wasn't worth it. Almost, because the treasure wasn't the real target.

See, after the Avatars had gotten all the details about this mess out of 10, Lily, Olimar and Tulip's uncle, Tune and Nimbus came to the conclusion that the first time she'd moved out had probably been too rushed for her to grab everything she'd wanted to bring. And given how dead-set those two were on getting her back, and how sure they were that it would work eventually, they'd more than likely not bothered to touch her stuff.

So, after Tune finishes her sweep of the house and lifts the few trinkets actually worth a damn, she moseys right on back to Tulip's old room and grabs whatever actually fits their girl's style, leaving behind anything that looks more like it fits what they wanted her to be. Fortunately, most of what's actually hers is obvious, given how it's almost all tucked in clever little hidey-holes that only a scared kid with a knack for engineering or a galaxy-class thief would be able to find.

She can't wait to see the look on the kid's face when they get back to the van.

STOP THATS SO SWEET.

Tune going back to get whatever Tulip may have not had the time to nab,, oh my gosh that's so sweet,, Tulip would definitely be near (or in) tears as she just thanks Tune over and over, because a majority of her because some things Tune grabbed were actually hers that she got of her own accord, so those mean a lot for her.

And then Nimbus and Tune putting aside their differences to both come to that conclusion,, both knowing that, for a moment, what matters is Tulip and how she feels,, (hell, maybe they're even starting to get along?)

And Daisy totally has lousy taste.

Also the bit about the Avatars reminds me I need to write about that, so thank you hehe.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

(iii)

Most of you, at least.

mmm...

Matta and I were able to salvage some technology. Enough to keep this group afloat for now. Considering Shirogane is...indisposed...you'll be taking orders from Enoshima for the time being until you get back on your feet.

But I'm telling you now...Your glory days are long gone. Even if you remain a problem for the Future Foundation, you'll never reach the heights that you did, and you can kiss your Killing Game goodbye.

... ... ...

...This is why dreams are pointless...You'd've had better chances stuck in a dead-end office job...

You really are as heartless as Kyoko always described you.

Consider yourself lucky that you're the only one of our classmates on my damn side...!

Now then...We've got another hour before we get to the station...

*She stands up straight, stretches out her back in a way that accentuates her assets, then turns to head into the next carriage after patting Matta on the shoulder.

Let's get you some clothes. I'm not having us show up if it's not in style.

——————————————————————

[Exactly 1 Hour Later...]

Aaaah...Get a good smell of that fresh air...! I FUCKING HATE IT!

Where the hell...?

*After the train comes to a stop in an open field with limited civilization, Junko escorts the surviving members of Zetsubou off the train. Tsutsuji and Matta support Mikihiko and Tsumugi.

... ... ...

THIS is the place you were taking us? There's nothing here...

Be patient, kiddo. We're not quite there yet...

*Junko points in a direction, and following her finger line, the rest of her team see her pointing to what looks to be the entrance to a mine.

Ooooh PLEAAASSE tell me that we're going to an underground city!

For some reason, I don't trust you in that kind of place.

*The Zetsubou agents follow Junko into the mine entrance.

Why down here? This place supposed to be a secret society or something?

You could say that. My...buddy...used to be something of the leader of this place a few years back. But some crazy shit went down a few years ago when I was still six feet in the dirt, and he kinda lost everything.

Fortunately, at least half of the people in his precinct were still on his side after the fact, so he took them and relocated them to somewhere they'd be safe.

Like Moses? Don't you think?

Yeah, a real twisted version of him...Anyone who allies themselves with you is some kind of psychopath.

What does that make you?

I said anyone, didn't I? Ugh...This place is filthy...

Listen, Lady Lolita. You almost died tonight, and you're on the run from the authorities. You're gonna have to learn not to be picky with where you stay.

*Junko keeps leading them down. They keep going until they hear something...strange.

Is that...music?

Hehe...Damn dude...You really did a good job for a shithole...

Hoooollyyyy...

... ... ...?

Some Serious BS: Part 1.

*Around that same time, a cargo train transports some supplies and resources to the northernmost part of Japan. However, this train carries some rather interesting cargo.

——————————————————————

...I made you some tea.

...?

It's not as good as the usual one, but thankfully I found some bags in one of these boxes. Figured no one would miss one or two of 'em going missing.

Thank you.

*Celeste gingerly sips the tea out of a saucer with shaking arms, cringing at the taste. On top of the pain, she's notably underdressed, and the air of the cargo train is chilly.

...Can I get you a drink too? Looks like you'd need one.

...

...Mgh...?

Don't worry...I'll get you a straw Koyasunaga.

Oi. Since when were you our resident caretaker? Don't think I've ever seen you so friendly...

*Akira indignantly turns to her.

Since Yukari kicked the fucking bucket...! Or did you FORGET about that part?

...

I mean...

*Akira strides over to the back of the cart and opens the door into the next one.

The Boss Lady ain't doing it any time soon.

... ... ...

*In complete and total agony and despair, with burns all over her body, Tsumugi looms over, silently, without the strength or the will to speak.

*sigh* ...

*Akira leaves the door open slightly ajar, so he can check on Tsumugi should the need arise.

Yukari, Alter Ego, Otonokoji, Gyalusetsu...Not to mention the factory's completely gone, and the Hope Cultivation Plan is dead in the water...We took a lot of real bad losses today...

Danganronpa Survivor ain't gonna happen any time soon.

Then what the hell do we do? We went too far in. Even if the plan's kaput, we can't back out now. I joined this side because I was confident we would win, and yet you've all-

Tae, listen. The world doesn't revolve around you, and things don't happen just because you want them to. That goes for everybody.

We took a hit, but come on guys! We can shake it off!

...!

mgggh...

Hellloooo~ Good to finally meet the lot of you face to face. How are you liking the place?

Have to admit...I wasn't expecting a cargo train to be your hideout. You were really waiting for us this whole time.

Well, I figured it'd be a good place to hide out for the time when the factory exploded. By the time I got to the station and by the time the train pulled up outside the factory, you guys would be able to make it here.

So you knew the factory was gonna explode?

Kid, I'M the one who blew it up. It would be more accurate to say I knew exactly when Tsumugi-chan's plans were gonna fail. I'm sure Yukari knew as well, with my Alter Ego...But she would never say that to her.

Couldn't we have done SOMETHING? ANYTHING to fix those assholes in their place!? I can't just accept that everything's gone to hell in just ONE DAY!

That...sounds weirdly HOPEFUL for an agent of Despair...I think you guys are forgetting something.