#Also the palm tickle thing is inspired by someone…

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚃𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙸𝙼 𝚂𝙾𝙱𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙶𝙶𝙶𝙶. 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝙱&𝙹 𝚍𝚞𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚜𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚠— 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚘’𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚟𝚋𝚏𝚋𝚏𝚑𝚍𝚓𝚓 𝙸 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝙱&𝙹 ✊🏾🥲…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟻𝟷𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛. (𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝? 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝 = 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 = 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜/𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙? 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝).

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @itzsana-kiddingmenow

@saturnzskyzz @giggly-cloud @savemeafruitjuice

@rice-cake-teen10 @titters-and-tingles @tmntalways @my-l0v3r-v3rse

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝟷𝟶𝟷% 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 <𝟹

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚒𝚝!!!

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜…𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 /𝚛𝚎𝚏˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Alright. Hear Mikey out on this one, okay? Because in all honesty, this was originally a fire plan. A lit plan. Some might say that the fire from the plan was sooooo hot it was practically blazing due to the fact of how awesome it was.

…okay. Well perhaps maybe people don’t say that exact term but they definitely should!

Anyways, it started off as a pretty chill day for the orange banded teen. I mean, it was Summer for crying out loud! These next few months were supposed to be absolutely nothing but pure chillness.

If your Summer isn’t even a bit chill in the slightest, then you’re doing something totally wrong. 

Daylight savings was over, school was over and most importantly…homework was over! (Besides the fact that Mikey and his brother’s are forced to do dumb reading reports over the break because the school system dumb)…But other than that, Michelangelo was basically free! Free as a bird. 

And so, like any sane studious kid that has been in High school for about a year…Mikey has been doing something he hasn’t done in a while since school started…

…Absolutely nothing.  

He’s been spending the past week or two playing Roblox on his IPad while eating Doritos mixed with Skittles.

Look, don’t even judge until you try, it’s actually pretty good!

But anyways, as Mikey was playing Flee the Facility, he randomly came to terms with the fact that he needed to steal some of his brother’s clothes for today…

Random thought, I know. 

The youngest has (and always will) politely take his brother’s clothes during the Summer— preferably hoodies and/or shirts. It’s basically a forced hand-me-down/Yard sale the youngest turtle always looks forward to. And today marked the 29th of June— 8 days from June 22nd. 

And if you’re unfamiliar, the 22nd of June marked the official end of Spring and official start of Summer! So the smallest turtle’s annual raid of his elder brother’s clothes was loooooong overdue. 

Last Summer, Mikey took Raph’s Detroit Become Human t-shirt, his WWE shirt, one of his polos and one of his The Walking Dead t-shirts (Raph had a TON). 

And the Summer before that, Mikey took Leo’s Squidward hoodie. And…yeah. That was basically it— the eldest was a pretty bland guy and there was really nothing worth taking from his wardrobe. 

So if you did your Math correctly, you would realize that this year it was Donnie’s turn. And so that’s what the youngest of the turtle teens was planning…

How the absolute hell could he take some of his immediate older brother’s clothes without taking ALL of them? 

Because believe it or not, the nerdy turtle of the group had a pretty good fashion taste and sense. His style was simple but not too bland or standout-ish. Donnie’s style was just a simple array of sweatshirts— a piece of clothing the smallest turtle could never EVER have too much of. 

But the tech-y turtle of the family definitely did. Just looking at his side of the shared bedroom, you could see sweatshirts and hoodies galore just scattered everywhere. 

The orange banded mutant looked through the sweatshirts and hoodies, trying to figure out which one he should now claim as his own.

A Sailor Moon hoodie? Too bright. 

An MHA sweatshirt? Too basic. 

An Attack on Titan hoodie? Too edgy. 

The youngest sighed in frustration, digging through his brother’s mountain of clothes before settling on a nice black hoodie with Gojo Satoru on it.

…what? Gojo Satoru was cool! Even though the orange banded turtle had only seen him in TikTok edits…those edit’s were pretty fire.

Just like his plan of taking his brother’s anime merch because he simply just could. 

The orange banded teen looked at himself in the mirror right next to Donnie’s tent, humming the popular yet overused tune that Gojo is associated with to himself, trying (and failing) to do the popular dance. 

���Ugh…how did Donnie do it again…?” The chocolate eyed teen inquired, attempting to do the dance one last time before lightly falling on his shell; the other sweatshirts and hoodies breaking his fall. 

“Dude…” A voice giggled behind him.

Mikey’s eyes widened at the sudden but familiar voice, glancing upwards to lock eyes with the one and only Donatello, peering down at him and smirking. 

“DONNIE!” Mikey shouted in surprise, getting up and whirling around so that he faced his immediate older brother as he tried to look as casual as possible, “Donatello! Dee! Don-bon…what’s…up…?” The youngest grimaced, sending awkward finger-guns as the hood to the hoodie fell down, completely covering his eyes due to how big it was on him. 

The elder snickered, putting a hand over his mouth as he tried to stifle them a little. “Oh shut up…” Mikey huffed, taking the hood off as the other turtle chuckled in amusement again, going to his younger brother and standing right next to him.

“My sweatshirt literally engulfs you.” The turtle that wielded glasses chuckled soflty which only caused the youngest to roll his eyes annoyed at the entire situation. “Shut. Up.” He pouted, crossing his arms as he glared at his older brother, “It looks good on me!”

“It swallows you…” The other said back. 

“I’LL SWALLOW YOU!” Mikey retorted, turning away from his brother angrily. 

The purple loving teen sighed fondly and laughed slightly at the automatic retort, raising a teasing brow at his younger brother, “Are you attempting at trying to look like me~?” 

The orange banded turtle blushed profusely, glaring at the other turtle’s question, “HELL NO.”

“Thehen why do you hahave the hoodie I wear literally everywhere? You know damn well Gojo is my go-to anime character of all time.”

Michelangelo grumbled, looking to the side of him as he swayed his arms at his sides. Okay…well, perhaps out of context it did seem like he was trying to look like Donnie. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t.

The only reason why the youngest “steals” clothes from his brother’s is because…well, he can and it’s easy. And it’s just…sorta comforting in a way. Not the stealing part…but…

Look— it’s dumb and confusing don’t think about it too much. 

The elder teen huffed out a small laugh, “Why did you choose my Gojo Satoru hoodie of all things, though?” 

“…I keep seeing him on TikTok and he’s the only anime character that hasn’t made me cry out of cringe in a way...” 

“Ooookay. Good for you, bud.” Donnie nodded, putting his hand out “Now give it here. Me and the TMLBANOT21stC are meeting later today to have a JJK meeting.”

The chocolate eyed turtle blinked, “Your going to…what…?” 

“My club stands for The Most Logical, Big-minded, Anime Nerds of the 21st century. Duh.” The honey brown eyed mutant said sassily, “Now give me back my hoodie or I’ll be late!” 

Mikey blinked once more, a small cheeky smile plastering on his face, “And what if I don’t want to?” 

“Michaelangelo—“ 

And with that, the smallest turtle ran out of the shared room, moving his legs as fast as he could that the other in the room just saw an orange and green blur sprint past him. 

“MIKEY!!!” Donnie howled angrily, running out of the room to catch up with him. The second youngest bumped in between the two eldest turtles, quickly apologizing to them as he ran after the youngest.

The leader in blue scratched his head confused, “Should we…?”

“Nah.” Raph commented. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

Donnie was internally groaning. If he couldn’t get his hoodie back from his brother in the next 10 minutes he would be late to his own club. 

Imagine that.

…Exactly! You can’t. 

The second youngest looked around the living room, trying to figure out just where his little brother was. In the last couple of years, the honey brown teen didn’t really mind the youngest taking some of his clothes (even if Donnie would’ve preferred him just normally asking).

But Donnie needed this hoodie. More than anything and one way or another he would get it. 

Suddenly…an idea popped into the geniuses brain, smirking widely as he leaned on the wall. He closed the door without stepping outside of the kitchen, still in the room to make it seem like he left. The youngest peeked from behind the couch, him and his brother making immediate eye contact. 

Ha. Got em. 

The anime loving turtle basically lunged at the smaller turtle, sitting on top of him as the other tried to squirm away. “I GOT YOU, YOU LITTLE TURD!” The purple cladded teen smirked triumphantly, crossing his arms and watching amusedly as his little brother tried to escape. 

“Just give me back my hoodie, man. You’re making it seem like I’m asking you for your liver.” 

“YOU DID ONCE!!!” 

“That was for a Bio experiment.” The elder corrected almost immediately, “But that’s not the point just— UGH! Give me my dang hoodie!!!” 

“NO!!!”

The purple banded turtle glared, uncrossing his arms as he wiggled his fingers in the air, “Wanna do this the hard way? Because we can do the hard way, little brother…”

The brown eyed mutant paled, shaking his head back and forth at the question. Well…this didn’t go exactly as planned.

Donnie just scoffed, his hands immediately going for the other’s underarms but Mikey put his arms down, sputtery giggles escaping his mouth as he did so. “P-Plehease! Deehee!”

“Don’t 'plehease Deehee' me! Give back me back my JJK hoodie!”

“BuHUT—“

The elder turtle lost his patience, effortlessly raising the other’s arms as he scribbled his free hand’s fingers all over his underarms. The smallest turtle squawked, falling into loud giggles. He kicked his legs underneath his older brother, “DOHOHON— NOHO!”

“Someone is sensitive here!” Donnie mused.

“STAHAP— I AHAM NAHAT!!”

“You’re not? Not what~? Ticklish~?” The anime loving turtle asked, his smiled widening as he saw how flustered his baby brother was getting. “STAHA— STAHA-! DEEHEE!” Mikey shrieked, “NOHO TEEHEEASING!”

The glasses wielding teen gasped dramatically, “No teasing? You take my hoodie and now you’re telling me what to do?” 

“NONONONO WAH— *squeal* WAHAHAIT!!!”

The tech whiz wasted no time prodding his thumbs on the youngest hips. The brown eyed teen squealed loudly, hugging his middles and just not even trying to stop Donnie’s hands at this point.

The last time he attempted to, his immediate older brother spent the next half an hour scribbling the orange banded teen’s palms…

That was hell in itself and Mikey was not trying to relive that again if he could help it.

“Awe…does this tiiiickle? Is this tickling you~? Maybe that’s cuz you’re reeeaally ticklish here…” 

“IHI— *squeal* QUIHIHIET!” Michelangelo demanded loudly. 

Donnie smiled at the weak retort, kneading the other’s hips harder, “What happened to all that smugness, hm? Where’d it all go, little guy~? Do I have you in a giggly puddle because your tickle tickle ticklish and I’m tickle tickle tickling you~?”

“STAHAHAP *squeal* SAHAHAYING *squeal* THAHAT, AHAHASHOLE!!!”

“Stop saying what~? Tickle? Ticklish—?”

The orange banded teen squealed loudly once more, accidentally cutting his brother off with his teasing. The glasses wielding teen couldn’t help but laugh softly at it, “Awe…look at my baby brother…” Donnie cooed. 

“NAHAHAHA!” The youngest threw his head back in loud laughter as Donnie now tickled the sides of his shell. Mikey arched his back, trying to buck his older brother off of him but Donnie held on easily, continuing to tickle him. 

“PLEHEASE! PLEHEHEASE!!!” 

“'Plehease'? Please what~?”

“JUHUST *squeal* NAHAT *hic* THE SHEHELL!” Mikey despretley cried, turning to his side as other small hiccups followed as the end of the hoodie went up a bit, revealing some of his plastron. 

The honey brown eyed turtle giggled at the perfectly played out action, “Oh…would you look at that~!” He mused, “Last chance to give me back my hoodie, bro.”

The smaller turtle’s eyes widened in realization, looking up at his brother from the corner of his eye, “Yohou *hic* wohohoudn’t…!”

“Oho wouldn’t I~?” Donnie grinned, gently holding Mikey’s waist and blowing multiple upon multiple raspberries on his stomach whilst scribbling his nails on his sides. “DAHAH— *squeal* DAHANNIE!” Mikey cried. 

“Jeez…your mega ticklish here, huh?”

“SHUHUT— GEHET— PLEHEHEASE!!!” The brown eyed teen rambled through his laughs, shaking his head. 

“Why— would— I???” The tech whiz mocked playfully, now blowing raspberries on his little brother’s neck and scribbling his fingers all over his stomach. “NAHAHAT THEHERE!! BROHOHO COHOME OHAHAN!!” The youngest squealed and squeaked. 

Donatello smirked, ceasing his 100% justified attack for a second, “You saying 'nahahat thehere' is genuinely so funny, Mikes. Like, I was going to tickle you here regardless but, hey! Thanks for confirming how badly it tickles for you.”

He resumed his tickling onslaught on his younger brother, the younger brother in question basically falling limp due to how hard he was laughing. The only body parts that were really fighting for his life right now were his legs, that still did not cease desperately kicking the floor. 

The purple banded turtle now started lightly giving ticklish nibbles on his younger brother’s neck as his light scribbles on the smaller turtle’s sides became quick and fast squeezes. “Om nom nom! Hm…you taste like…giggles! And ticklishness~! My favorite food combo!” The elder teased. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE?! WHAT DOHOES THAHAT EHEHEVEN MEEHEEAN?!?!” Mikey cried desperately, his voice sounding like a tea kettle brewing because of how squeaky and high pitched it was.

“Awe…you haven’t used that nickname for me in ages~! It must tickle that bad, huh?” The glasses wielding turtle cooed.

“IHI *hic* CAHAN’T!”

“You can’t~? Can’t what~?”

“IHIT— *hic* NAHAHAH!” Mikey silently wheezed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes tight. “Is someone giving me the silent treatment?” Donnie snickered, “Pfft— get it? Cuz you’re laughing silently~? Eh? Eh?”

Okay, even if Mikey was the comedian of the family, he would’ve admitted that was a pretty solid joke if he wasn’t getting slaughtered right now. “FIHINE FIHINE *hic* HAHAVE *hic* IHIHIT BAHACK!!! TAHAKE IHIHIT!! PLEHEASE *hic* JUHUST STAHAHAP *squeal* I’M GOHONNA *squeal* DIHIHIE!!!”

“That would be kiiiiiiiinda funny making your grave honestly.” The tech loving teen smugly said, “Michelangelo Hamato. Reason of death? Being too freaking ticklish.”

“DEEHEEHEE!!!” The youngest cried. Donnie stopped, getting up and laying next to his brother, wrapping him in a side hug which the smaller turtle immediately melted to. “May I plehease hahave my hoodie back?” 

“Ihi juhust sahaid yehehehes!” The orange banded teen groaned, literally throwing the hoodie at his immediate older brother. The anime loving teen smiled, putting on the hoodie as he grinned in triumph. “For real real. I feel like new...” He said to himself proudly. 

And if the youngest knew his brother (which he did), that was probably a quote that that Gojo fellow has said. 

“Oh! And by the way, little bro. My club doesn’t have a meet up today. It’s tomorrow.” Donnie snickered, walking away and leaving Mikey left in complete and utter awe. 

That freaking asshole.

Okay, well now Mikey’s definitely taking that MHA hoodie next year.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[lovelynim]

TickleTober2024/Day 30 - Magic

Genshin Impact - Kinich x Lyney

Kinich looked at the rose in Lyney’s hand, blinking a couple times as if to process what just happened. Where did that flower even come from? How did Lyney do that? Those and another thousand questions passed through his head at that moment, but there was only one thing he could think of saying.

“Are… you the devil?”

“Wh- no!” Lyney giggled, shaking his head before placing the rose back in his hat. Of all the compliments and comments people made about his tricks in Fontaine, he certainly never heard this one. How amusing. “As I said, I’m a magician.”

“So, magicians are devils?” Kinich asked, cocking his head to the side and earning another giggle from the other guy.

This scenario never crossed Lyney’s mind until he visited Natlan. How to explain his “magic” to someone who never saw magic? Should he feed whatever fantasies his new friend had in mind or tell him the truth about his tricks?

Lyney sighed, leaning over the balcony and resting his head on the back of his hand. “Would you like to see another magic trick?”

Kinich thought for a moment and, after a couple seconds, looked back up to Lyney. “Ok,” he nodded.

“Alright, pay attention or you’ll miss it!” Lyney announced, speaking as if he was in some sort of actual stage. When he was sure Kinich’s eyes were glued to him, he began his little performance.

First, Lyney flashed Kinich with his brightest, most charming smile. Then, Lyney covered his lips with both his hands and, when he moved them away, a plain, emotionless facade remained where the smile was.

Lyney clenched his hand into a fist, tapping his knuckles with his index finger. “It’s here,” he whispered, enticing Kinich’s curiosity.

“Now, with a bit of magic and with the help of my cute assistant,” he said, reaching out for Kinich’s wrist, “let’s see what I can do.”

Lyney pressed his fist into Kinich’s palm, gently opening his fingers as if to give something to him. Then, he climbed Kinich’s arm with his fingers, caressing his wrist, forearm and then his elbow. “Oh, silly me. I dropped it.”

“Dropped what?” Kinich muttered, as confused as he could be while looking at his hand in Lyney’s grip.

“My smile,” Lyney nodded, as if it was something obvious, “it’s hiding here!”

“W-whahaht?!” Kinich gasped, letting out a surprised giggle when Lyney’s hand that was resting over his elbow “jumped” and latched onto his side, squeezing and tickling it. “Stohohop it, it tihihickles!”

“Oh? But I’m not tickling you, I’m trying to get my smile back,” Lyney teased, pulling Kinich’s hand to further expose his ribs and underarm to the series of ticklish pokes and prods that followed through.

Just when Kinich felt his cheeks warming up, the tickling was gone - like in a magic trick. “Aha,” Lyney cheered, holding Kinich by his chin, “so here is where my smile went, hm?”

Even after Lyney let him go, it took Kinich a moment to sit back. He touched his own cheek, smiling slightly as tingles still lingered over his body. “...you’re the devil, indeed.”

A/N: I was going to try my hand writing my first fic for AFK Journey, but I ended up doing some last minute changes in the course of action

Anyway, still not really sure how to write for Natlan characters, so be patient with me

Also, huge kudos for @mxncher_17, on Instagram, for making this comic that heavily inspired me

[mrsshabana]

i'm intrigued by the mantis!gyutaro?

The mantis Gyutaro fic is one I started about a year ago and I have 2 chapters written. But I never posted it because I didn't want to commit to another fic. I will say it is one of my favorite things I've written though. ・:*(〃∇〃人)*:・

Someone gave me the idea of a cryptid Gyutaro on my old blog, then I made these sketches which inspired the fic.

I'll also include some paragraphs from chapter 1! If you like it, maybe I'll post more of this au because I really do love it -♡

𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒔!𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Scrambling to your knees, you turn around to face whatever thought you’d make an easy meal.

It’s a man. No… It’s an insect.

The creature has the body and the face of a man, albeit very thin and bony. He has black hair that fades into green halfway down, partially tied up in a messy topknot. Large folded up wings lay on his back. His forearms are decorated with long, sharp spikes. His entire body is covered in ink-like black splotches. Two long antennae hang in front of his face.

The thing is sitting down, groaning with its head in its palms.

Your thoughts are spiraling. There’s no way that this is actually happening right? The sane person in you wants to run away screaming before this thing gets back up. But the entomologist in you wants to investigate further. You know you’re playing with fire, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

You take a moment to admire his appearance again. Antennae, tibial spines, large wings. This creature resembles a mantis. Ok, what do you know about mantids? They’re aggressive predators, territorial, and they’ll eat almost anything. Shit, none of that information helps you right now. It only diminishes your chances of getting out of this alive.

You took too long, and the creature has recovered from your headbutt. Staring at you with wide eyes, it slowly moves towards you. Inching ever so slowly. 

Reaching into your pocket, you grab the small jar of honey you were going to use as bait later in the night. You know that mantids only eat live prey, but this is all that you have. 

You fumble with the lid, scooting yourself backwards as the creature continues its crawl towards you. With a huff, your back hits a tree, stopping your path. You are met with glowing yellow eyes and deadly mandibles inches from your face.

Somehow, you managed to open the jar. The sweet aroma of artisan honey fills the air around you. In a desperate attempt to distract the creature, you hold the honey out to him.

“H-here. F-for you…” you stutter, voice barely above a whisper.

Guttural clicks rumble from his chest. He exhales in your face, the rich scent of blood fills your nose. Almost making you gag. You must’ve not been the first item on the menu tonight.

With curiosity, the creature sniffs the jar in your hand. He places a hand on your hip to keep you in place, as a long tongue slips out of its mouth. Its tongue is pitch black and forked at the tip. 

You feel like you can’t breathe as this thing starts to lick the honey from the jar. Seemingly satisfied by its sweetness he continues. This creature is quite literally, eating from the palm of your hand. 

It’s great that you managed to distract it, but what do you do now? It’s holding you down so you won’t be able to get away. All you can do is watch as the jar slowly empties, your fate approaching. You thought you were being smart by offering the honey, but all you managed to do is give him an appetizer.

It only takes a few minutes for the jar to be licked clean. His hungry gaze shifted back to you. He licks his mandibles as he inches his face closer to yours, tickling the top of your head with his antennae.

“P-please… I-I don’t wanna die,” you whimper. Lowering your head and squeezing your eyes shut as tears roll down your cheeks.

All you can do is wait for the pain of being ripped apart.

[ellies-mullet]

Chains of the Heart and Soul

Joel x reader

Desc: Joel is in love.

Warnings: None

Notes: Soooo much fluff in this one. Hopefully this inspires me to write consistently. Not edited btw.

Also requests are open!

Enjoy. x

 Joel kissed the inside of your palm and let his lips rest there, as if his kiss was marinating into your skin. 

How he found you, he didn’t know. He didn’t need to know. Because you're here now and he would never let you go.

Your soft, cool breaths tickled his neck. Your body was warm and soft, inviting and comforting. You were delicate and priceless. A porcelain treasure he would give his life to protect and keep from breaking.

You slowly ran your hand up his back, sending chills down his spine. He hummed contently as you continued the soothing action. You chuckled a bit at him and the sound warmed his chest.

You were positioned slightly underneath Joel. If you wanted, you could turn a certain way and you would become the big spoon. 

In all realness, you dominated Joel. You made a lot of the decision for the both of you and he had absolutely no problem with it. Every decision you made was made with a tenderness and consideration that Joel admired but just didn’t see in himself.

Of course you would gawf at this. Joel was one of the most considerate and patient men you’ve ever met.

But for him, you had a light shining upon you, like an angel’s glow. And because of this, he held you in the highest regard.

It was strange and new for Joel. The feeling of true, real love. The feeling of being attached to someone as if there were a chain of titanium connecting your hearts and souls. 

It certainly wasn’t a chapter Joel had foreseen in his book of life. In fact, Joel had believed that his life was complete. He was in Jackson with Ellie and Tommy. He had been given another chance of being a father, another chance at living with his brother. If you had asked Joel before he met you if he needed anything else, he would have said no.

That was until you somehow stumbled into his life and captured his heart.

Your hand slowly left his back and you began to shift underneath him. You whispered to him that you were going to be late for your shift at the Tipsy Bison if you didn’t get up now. 

He sighed and released you from arms, not without hesitation. Unfortunately, Maria had given him the day off but you still had a shift at Jackson’s tavern today. You were supposed to have the day off, but one of your coworkers, who was seven months pregnant, called in unexpectedly.

Of course you couldn’t say no.

Joel watched you dress for work while making comfortable conversation with you. You told him about your dreams and how desperate you were for a cup of coffee and he told you about his birthday surprise for Ellie and how well she was doing with the guitar.

Being the excellent partner that he was, Joel eventually got up and made his way down to the kitchen to begin brewing two cups of coffee. 

As he loaded the cups of coffee with a bit of sugar, he felt your arms slide around his waist. A small smile of contentment grew on his face. You kissed his shoulder and whispered a sweet thank you in his ear.

Joel’s skin was hot where you left your kiss and he savored the feeling. Admittedly, Joel was sometimes a bit taken aback by how head over heels he was for you. At the beginning of your relationship, he tried to remain stoic and serious as that was how he presented himself to many others.

However, it didn’t take long for this persona to melt.

As the two of you sipped your coffee, you talked as you stood around the kitchen, laughing at each other’s little remarks. It was pleasant and peaceful, a rare occurrence in the time of the apocalypse.

You were almost finished with your cup of coffee when you looked at the clock and cursed. You were going to be late.

You ran around the house gathering your bag, boots and coat. Joel watched you scramble for your things and offered his help, but you sweetly declined. 

Joel followed you as you made your way out of the door. The cold air bit his face as he stepped outside behind you, but he barely noticed as you suddenly spun around and pressed your lips to his.

He gladly welcomed the heat that rose from your lips that ran all the way down to the tip of his toes. He gripped your waist softly and pulled you close as you placed your hand on his chest and the other was placed on his neck.

You pulled away, eyes still closed, but grinning brightly nonetheless.

Joel swore you were the most beautiful woman alive.

You turned around and told him you loved him and would see him later that evening.

As leaned against the railing of the porch and watched you walk away, he could feel the chain on his heart and soul pull tighter and tighter.

But it would never break.

[liliansilverstuff]

Prequel Drabble - The Whole Story

I asked for writing prompts of location/object/line of dialogue. My friend Amy (who, incidentally, inspired the OC character of the same name in my fic) said:

the location is a 50’s diner, the object is my thumb, the line is “don’t ask me if you don’t want my answer”

The following is a prequel. It has two original characters, who are Hermione’s (Muggle) college roommates in NJ. —

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the seat of the sparkling red vinyl booth, scowling at Amy who wasn’t even looking at her, just giving her a thumbs down as she continued eating her french fries.

“I hate it when she does this,” Hermione said to Jenna, who was seated next to Amy.

Jenna merely cringed by way of reply, looking nervously between her two roommates.

“You know what? Fine,” Amy said, retracting her arm and reaching for her chocolate shake instead, “but in future, don’t ask me if you don’t want my answer.”

“It’s not even an answer!” Hermione cried, then jumped slightly as the waiter appeared next to her, sliding into view across the black and white checkered floor. His grin was as gaudy as the chrome accents peppered throughout the restaurant.

“Alrighty-roo, I know you cats ain’t been hollerin’ but I thought I’d swing on by the check on ya! Anything else I can do ya for?” he said.

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I find myself at a loss for words,” Amy replied, deadpan. The 50’s-style diner on Route 17 had the most flamboyantly stereotypical decor, as if an actual diner from the 50’s had drank ceremonial plant medicine, and then vomited out an interior design scheme. It also had the waitstaff to match.

The waiter seemed not to take in Amy’s words, because he just smiled and said, “Sounds good, toots, I’ll bring the check over in a jiff.” Then, he slapped his pad of paper onto his left palm, spun around, and walked jauntily away, elbows swinging.

Jenna giggled. “I should get a job here.”

“Jenna, nooo!” Hermione cried.

At the same time, Amy turned to her and said, “You’d be perfect.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, refocusing on Amy. “So you’re really not going to tell me why you so strongly object to Leon? I mean, god’s sake, Ames, all I said was I thought he was cute.”

“He’s a pig,” Amy replied, with such a matter-of-fact tone that Hermione had to narrow her eyes in suspicion.

“You say that as if you’ve had some experience with him.”

Amy scoffed loudly, throwing her head back as she did so. “Here’s the thing, girls,” she said, turning in the booth so that she was also facing Jenna. “When you get fucked over by one too many boys, you start to have radar for the ones who are gonna be total asswipes. And I, unfortunately, have an incredibly fine-tuned radar, okay? Which is why I am telling you that Leon is exactly the type who will waste years of your life, only to get bored eventually and move on to someone else!”

“Fine! Okay! I believe you, but could you just say that next time instead of shoving your thumb in my face?”

“I’ll consider it,” Amy said, taking a bite of a fry while holding eye contact with Hermione.

“Wow,” said Jenna, “I wish I had radar for that.”

“No worries, Jen. That’s what you have me for,” Amy said with a rare sweet smile.

Jenna sighed. “Well thank goodness for that. I certainly don’t wanna get mixed up with someone who’s gonna waste years of my life.”

“Your man’s on the way, Jenna. Someone who loves, or at least supports your Disney obsession, and makes you laugh like he’s tickling you every time he talks.”

Jenna stared over at Amy, open-mouthed. “How do you know that’s exactly what I want?

Amy shrugged. “I’ve lived with you for six months now, but I probably could have told you that after one.”

“Oh really?” said Hermione with a challenging smirk. “What is it that I’m after, then?” she said, then sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, extremely intrigued to hear Amy’s take on what she wanted.

Amy had just begun to sip her milkshake, and so held up a single finger as she finished and placed the tall glass back onto the table. She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, then crumpled it and tossed it onto her plate as she began to speak.

“You want an intellectual equal. Someone who’s as big of a fucking nerd about school as you are, but not in an obvious way. He’s intelligent and refined, and he does have a sense of humor, but it’s very dry. The shit he says goes over a lot of people’s heads, and he doesn’t even care. Furthermore, he is enamored with you, and possessive in a way that makes you feel safe, not trapped.”

She picked up her milkshake as she finished this little speech, sucking up the dregs at the bottom and emptying the glass before placing it down once again.

Quirking an eyebrow at her friend, Hermione said, “Well I’m not sure about that last bit, but otherwise… you seem to have been reading my journal.”

Jenna gasped, turning to Amy in alarm. “Did you read our journals?!”

With another scoff, Amy said, “Please, I don’t have to. Everything I said is written all over the both of you.”

Hermione and Jenna sighed in unison, then became contemplative and quiet while Amy handled the check.

Once everything was taken care of, Hermione piped back up with, “I just wonder if someone like that even exists, you know?”

At this, Amy smirked in that all-knowing way she so often did. “Patience,” she said.

That was the last thing that was said on the matter, as they exited the diner and headed back to campus.

[mystery-moose]

WELL I WAS GONNA GO EAT BUT OKAY LETS DO THIS

Here's a snippet of "alternate meeting":

She was hurt. He could tell even before he noticed the tiny drops of blood on the hardwood. Partially because she should have caught him by now, should have rounded on him blade at the ready before smiling that smile that warmed his chest and telling him that she’d clocked him ages ago and saw right through the mask he was wearing. Instead, she was in the bathroom, washing her hands under too-hot water, breathing a little harder than she should. He made sure the first sound she noticed was his voice. “Princess.” She spun, and even injured, she was fast — her knife was pointed at him exactly where he stood in the dark bedroom, harsh white light bleeding in from the bathroom. Briefly, he saw her the way any other might: a desperate animal, claws out, backed into a corner. But she recognized his voice, and the muscles around her eyes softened. The predator, soothed, faded away.

I don't usually go in for pre-canon AUs, especially in ongoing works that aren't complete yet, because I feel like... I don't have all the toys in the toybox to play with yet? And I tend to want to stick to canon as much as I can, for whatever its worth. But I've seen a few other people tackle this idea and some of them inspired me. It's definitely a way to focus in on the relationship between these two without that pesky kid and dog getting in the way!

Beyond that, I think it's a really cool idea to bring focus to things Twilight wants outside of the domestic. In canon, it's obvious he wishes he could be Loid Forger (and to an extent Loid Forger isn't really a mask at all) but I also love the idea that he might not actually want a simple family life with a simple civilian woman, but just... someone who understands him. Understands why he does what he does, has similar thoughts or feelings or experiences or background. The thought that he might still have found that with Yor under very different circumstances tickles the irony part of my brain.

Also it let's them meet on equal footing and display competency to each other, and since that does a lot for me personally I have to imagine it works for them too.

ANYWAY now here's "indulgence"!

"Gods, this is nice," he murmured. Karlach sighed, her hands playing with his, squeezing, tracing his fingers. She felt the softness of his palms as much as the brass scales on the backs of his hands. Her tail encircled and stroked his shin, and her feet tapped against the tops of his, doing a little dance. She always had so much energy when they went to bed together, energy he usually had to thoroughly expel from her in very satisfying ways… but tonight, he could tell this was all she wanted. He was happy to give it to her. “It is, isn’t it?” she said, laughing softly and kissing his palm. “Creature comforts.” “Mmhmm.” He nuzzled the back of her neck, closing his eyes. If he closed his eyes, it felt (and smelled) a bit like embracing a campfire, though a fair bit more pleasant. “Necessities, more like.” “You really are a bit of a ponce, aren’t you,�� she said with a chuckle. “I am not,” he replied, feigning offense as he tickled the bottom of her foot with his toe. He felt her jump a little and it warmed him almost as much as her engine did. “I simply prefer the indoors to the outdoors. What’s precisely wrong with that?” “Pretty boring, really.” She elbowed him gently in the stomach. “Life happens outdoors.” “And I’d rather ‘life’ didn’t protrude up into my shoulder blades when I’m trying to sleep. Or seep through my tent when it storms. Or get into my bedroll and lay eggs. Or—” “Alright, alright,” she laughed, turning her head and looking over her shoulder into his eyes. “Baby.”

...so you can tell where the title came from!

I didn't really have a direction or a structure for this when I started it (the real reason for the title) but as I got further, I started to think about a selection of bedtime moments between my Tav (Sevistur the dragonborn paladin) and Karlach. The first time they sleep next to each other, the first time they sleep with each other, the first time they share a roof, the first time they share a bath or a bed. A sort of timeline of expanding boundaries and deepening intimacy.

I think the general thrust of it would be Sev coming to grips with how much he cares for Karlach, and then how much he needs to solve Karlach's condition, with him very quietly deciding what he wants to do about it. The thing is, he knows she doesn't wanna argue about it, so it's gotta go pretty much unsaid for most of it, living mostly in his interiority up until we get to the end, which has to take place in either Avernus or the epilogue. I haven't quite gotten that far!

I definitely want to, though. Karlach is easily my favorite romanceable NPC in years, and in a game that also includes Shadowheart that is saying something. It always makes me feel a bit strange to write an OC romancing a canon character, but that's kind of the whole point of BG3, and I like them too much to let that weird hangup of mine stop me, so here we are!

[loversj0y]

More presidentbur ideas while i work up motivation to do the angsty part 3 (these hcs are not related to the political rival au)

Finding wilbur asleep at his presidential desk and carrying him to his chambers despite being a little over half his height. Maybe he wakes up halfway to the room, and he’s just being carried around like a doll. Imagine if he flails around in surprise and ends up knocking the both of you over. 

S c a l p.        m a s s a g e s.  during the stressful time of the election

Imagine coming in late at night to find him still working at his desk. The two of you start talking, and you end up on the floor, sitting across from each other, toes touching and knees brought up to your chests (his back against his desk and yours against the wall). At one point he starts talking about the war, and it turns to him holding out his hands, palms facing up. You meet him in the middle, reaching out your own hands to hold his, gently tracing the scars. Eyes soft and downcast, he stares at his hands as you pet them, murmuring some quiet thoughts about the effects of the war and the difficulty of being president— the distant look in his eyes almost suggesting that he’s talking to himself. But then he looks up at you, face grim and tired and so worn, yet relieved that there’s at least one person he can be human with, without the constant fear of accidentally ruining their image of a confident, silver tongued president and revolutionary (no matter how hard you try and assure him that nobody would think less of him if he showed weakness for once– especially not tommy. But it's like talking to a brick wall). You hold your arms out, open, and he just pitches forward slowly, head coming to rest on your chest as he slumps against you. His hair tickles your face and you scrunch up your nose, running a hand through the brown curls to flatten them away from his face… which makes him sigh happily at the feeling and go limp. Eventually he falls asleep. 

Offering a kiss for every hour he sleeps and abstains from work. He sleeps for eight hours? Eight kisses in the morning! He sleeps for only three? Only three. Good incentive, but you can hardly convince yourself to stick to the plan and always end up giving him more kisses than he had “earned”-- because in reality he deserves all of them.

That’s all for right now! I hope you get over your hangover, and I’m excited to hear about that gunpowder idea…..

my god these are all. just completely amazing holy shit man i fucking love president bur man hes such a stressed out guy he needs Love. i love the idea of just hauling him to bed and him being like. what the fuck how. and when he knocks you guys over hes just like

“holy fuck im so sorry fuck oh my god uhhh let me- i can carry you?” confused and half awake trying to figure out how to fix it.

i think scalp massages are his off button. he needs kindness and affection.

3 i am SO BIG ABOUT. he is so used to upholding his reputations that he forgets how to feel human!!!!! so being there and getting him to feel human again, process his own traumas, and feel okay and *real* is such a big thing (mental health awareness and treatment in cwilburs arc is something ive thought abt so much bc with the first piece i wrote EVER being abt cwilbur’s death, i thought a lot about how the insanity would fester and how. if someone had been there and treated him as human instead of a chess piece he couldve been better off)

also. yes. he needs sleep he is so sleep deprived so if this works itd be amazing and he’d love it (eventually. he’d be annoyed at first but once he starts feeling more rested…)

also hangover is almost totally passed now! as for the gunpowder thought, it might not be enough to inspire something alone, but it certainly will be enough to set up a motif in a work about c wilbur’s death, if i ever go on to write another (i could always reworkshop ‘i dont smoke’ now that im better at writing and understand cwilbur better)

[harfanfare]

How to win a heart of Floyd Leech?

a/n: Someone requested this; ask got deleted by accident! Hope you will like it, Anon!

Warning!

Once you start walking through the specific points of the guide, your life will be exposed to the presence of Floyd Leech. Interrupting the action at one of the stages may cause many problems; F. Leech categorizes stopping as "boring", which puts the user of this guide in great danger.

The only way out is to get to the very end. Or not to start at all.

You act at your own risk.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎ 

1.   Be an easy new target.

To one’s surprise, it is much harder not to catch his attention.

You can easily become another entertaining target of Floyd, mostly by doing silly things or him just considering them as ones.

And to automatically get labelled as “silly”, you just need to fall into one of his traps—he prepares them for someone else, maybe for goldfish, maybe for another person given a sea-inspired nickname, expecting to enjoy watching how familiar face twitches with terror as he jumps into the scene and tightly embraces passing student.

But no. You were the one who showed up in the wrong place and time as Floyd jumped out from his hideout, scaring you half to death. With a strangled yelp, you sharply backed away. After gaining a slight flush on your cheeks, you recognised who you just bumped into and quietly gasped.

However, he was much more bewildered than you were.

He had never encountered somebody who wouldn’t just freeze under his touch. Jumping away, gasping, muttering half-hearted apologies and flushing? That’s new.

That’s also entertaining.

Even after your quickly disappearance from the scene, his gaze somehow inexplicably started returning to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2.   Visit Mostro Lounge often.

“We’re looking for someone who would like to work part-time for Azul~” Floyd said, sliding poster across the table. He popped up in front of you unannounced, having your thoughts return to dark reality.

“Oh,” you replied quietly, packing your things faster. “Good luck with it.”

You got up from your seat, but the thought of letting you go just like that didn’t even cross Floyd’s mind.

“Ehh? Shrimpy, aren’t you going to try?” he asked, frowning. You winced a little at the nickname he called you, not sure how to feel about it. “You know, you won’t work there for free.”

Azul will grant your wish.

You fidgeted a little, questioning your response. You heard—who didn’t?—rumours that Octavinelle leader could fulfil any request for a certain price. Ones were working for it, others were paying, and lasts were trading their request with Azul’s one.

The thought of having anything just by working in some café made you consider the offer again—this time quickier.

“I will go,” you decided.

“Hooray!” Floyd smiled cheerfully, just as if he won some grand prize in the lottery. “But what could Shrimpy possibly wish for, to change your response so drastically~?” he wondered but didn’t get any answer in return.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3.   Be honest.

“Shrimpy...”

You passed Floyd, without sparing him a look. Anyone who has known you for a while would notice that your movements were a bit stiff and creaky.

Once you heard Floyd’s voice, a wave of tiredness struck you as if you didn’t get any sleep last night after working your shift in Mostro Lounge.

There were so many people to serve, so many things to do... and yet, you couldn’t help with anything, still not knowing how everything works, messing up with orders and breaking some plates in process.

Floyd buzzing around you, asking you some random questions (“Shrimpy, have you done it before?”). You answered them quickly, but each of them bumped you out of rhythm, making you forget what you were doing. It also didn’t help that Floyd certainly liked you being disoriented, replying with a shrug and grin on his face at your thundering glances.

So now, after gaining a little trauma from working in Octavinelle’s café, all you could do is ignore Floyd’s presence, silently accusing him of your infamous fiasco.

“Hey, Shrimpy!” he called you again, catching you up. “Are you mad?”

“I am not mad,” you snapped and took an unstable breath. “Look, I just started working, and on my first day I made already so many mistakes—”

“Yeah,” he replied indifferently. “And what with that?”

“...I couldn’t even correctly serve drinks—”

“Oh, stop!” Floyd muffled your mouth with his hand, an annoying look on his face. “I know where it is going. And no, you can’t quit a job, after all my efforts to get you there. It will get boring again!”

“But—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” he corrected his hand on your mouth, now not letting even a sound get through his fingers. “Azul knows that you tried your best. And for these plates you broke, he already added them to your paycheck. You need to practice! Not to give up, Shrimpy!”

You looked up at him, quite stunned by these words. Perhaps he quoted someone from the book or heard someone talking like that...

But it was encouraging. In some way, considering that you couldn’t protest, having your mouth covered. But still, it was encouraging.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4.   Take classes together.

You can have the power of controlling Floyd’s behaviour, making other students’ life easier. Or you two can be a walking disaster.

Turning alchemy lesson into putting random ingredients into a boiler and praying that the mysterious mixture won’t explode.

History classes started being a regular pinching ritual to keep yourself from falling asleep (you are being pinched more, even when you don’t feel sleepy).

In contrast, flying lessons are peaceful. Nor Jade, nor Floyd, nor Azul are fond of these classes. Floyd is much eager to stand both feet on the ground, watching you practice or having you sulking next to him about heights.

However, if you are a calm, shy, or tranquil person, exchanging little notes or drawings will be a little habit of yours. Handing them discreetly under the eye of sir Crewel is quite a challenge, but it also gives satisfaction once the note was given.

Floyd throws away most of your paper conversations, but the ones he really likes, he cherishes them by keeping them with him, stuffed in his pockets. He will be irritated if anyone would like to see what you two were writing about, even if the talk was about new strawberries delivery for the new recipe.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.   Being ticklish or not.

There are two possible scenarios, whether his new, lovely target is ticklish or not.

If is: prepare for being touched a lot. Observing how you quiver with surprise, when he lightly—he especially makes his touch less fierce, knowing very well that tickling isn’t violent—wraps his hands around your waist, making you hold your breath.

He would tickle you a lot, very often making you cry out of laugh and pain that follows sharp writhing and fidgeting, but never that much, to seriously upset you. That’s some luck in such unlucky situation.

If not: he will try to find other weak point. Or will try to make you ticklish—his hands are particularly cold and pressing them to your warm skin, might make you give him a reaction he would enjoy.

Albeit, if you also won’t return any expression even then, he will seriously search for some other weakness. Slightly biting an ear lobe, whispering next to your ear or anything that could make his smile appear, once he made you put him somewhere between “I despise you with each and every cell” and abstract mumbling with the heat on your checks.

Oh, he loves your reactions so much.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6.   Learn all nicknames he gave other people (you will unlock an option to slightly dish other people).

“Oh Lord...” you muttered to yourself, as your gaze followed scribbled list of names that Jade just passed to you. He willingly connected all student’s names with pseudonyms Floyd gave other people and handed the roaster over to you once you helped him with some kitchen cleaning.

“There are so many, right?” Jade replied with a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure you already memorised some of them, being around Floyd that much.”

You nodded mindlessly as you tried to get names into your head. You mouthed them soundlessly one by one, motivated to learn them by the end of the week.

The chuckle that escaped Jade’s lips startled you, and you realised that he still was in the room. Or that you didn’t leave the Lounge even after your shift has already ended.

“My brother surely didn’t exaggerate anything about you,” he said, his tone a bit more buoyant than ever, although you couldn’t be sure as the thick air of mystery still echoed in his voice. “I wonder how it will finally end?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7.   Always share your takoyaki with him.

“What are you hiding, Shrimpy?”

You shuddered at a voice that you did not want to hear at this moment, not for all the world. Unless that the world included a chest filled with takoyaki, which you could give to certain somebody.

You felt that instead of a shashlik of tasty balls, you were holding a knife in your hands, a veritable proof of a crime you had committed. It weighed heavily in your grip, and Floyd's approaching footsteps did not make your situation any better.

It was a time to hide the evidence.

You pushed as much as you could into your mouth and swallowed a few balls without even gnawing them much. You almost choked on them.

“Me? I?” you asked innocently. You sincerely hoped that no sauce or a stray piece of cake was left on your face. “What could I possibly hide?”

"Hmm, hmm~," he drew closer, and you needed all your will gathered, to make yourself stay where you were. Even without looking in the mirror, you knew you were all pale on the face. “With my little eye, I spy something...”

His gaze went down, just to your hands, which you tried to hide behind your back.

Not giving him a clear look at your palms or wooden stick, you turned around on the heel and run with all your might. Your muscles felt somehow stiff as if they also didn’t see a chance to win this race.

Now Floyd was sure you are hiding something, and there is no chance he’ll let it go.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8.   Watch him at his basketball practice.

81:30 for the blue team!

“Floyd once again started playing wild,” Ace breathed with clear regret in his voice. He glanced your way, frowning at you. “It’s your fault. Please come at practices when Floyd is in my team, not otherwise.”

You laughed awkwardly as he walked away.

A moment later, Floyd reached for a bottle with water and a towel you bravely guarded through the whole practice. He smiled wholeheartedly, happy with the win, water, and your presence.

“How did you like the game?” he asked once he changed from PE clothes and you two started heading towards Octavinelle.

“It was really fun!” you admitted, a speck of amusement appeared in Floyd’s eyes. “The red team didn’t have much time to capture a ball before you got hold of it again.”

“Hehe~ I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “I really like to play basketball, even more than ever, when I know that you are watching! That’s why,” he added, sincerity well-heard in his voice, “you need to come even more often!”

You nodded happily.

You just couldn’t mind it, all that accompanying him.

It was... fun.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9.   Dance, dance, dance!

Heels tapped on the floor and the sound of these steps would probably have spread through the room, if not for the jazz music pounding through Mostro Lounge’s speakers.

Floyd pulled you closer, letting a playful smile on his lips stretch even more. You couldn’t help but smile back, before gasping as he spun you around your axis. You lost balance and would fall if not steady grip around your waist, as Floyd leaned on closer to you, making you bend on one leg more and entirely rely on his touch.

Last notes of melody faded, and you still were in that pose, facing each other. With each second, Floyd’s face was changing from some form of amazement to amusement, finally letting you properly stand.

“Ha... When did you learn to dance so smoothly?” you asked smiling in wonder.

“Hehe~ With legs you can dance a lot more than in the sea,” he answered. “On land, it’s super fun~”

You nodded at his words.

Floyd was a wonderful dancer.

But you can’t be sure if being a good dancing partner is the only thing that made you feel all warm and fuzzy because butterflies still didn’t leave your stomach.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10.            “Let’s do something fun!”

“Here is your paycheck,” Azul handed you a white envelope, sealed with a stamp with the Octavinelle logo. “And you, [Name], was also working for some request, right?”

You nodded as you stared at the envelope.

Somehow, knowing how stupid the lingering thought in your mind was, you couldn’t bear to look up. If you would, your gaze would probably ignore all the elegant furniture of the room, even the owner of the room, Azul, just to settle on Floyd.

If you saw anything more than his shoes, that stupid thought would make their way outside, turning plans into action.

And Floyd unknowingly did everything to make them come true.

“Shrimpy,” he cupped your face with his hands, judging by his voice he seemed quite... worried? When he made you look in his olive and gold eyes, you started holding your breath. “Are you okay?”

With that question, your strong will to wish for something expensive or practical was broken.

You started fidgeting more, not knowing how to express your thoughts in words. “I think I have a request... a question for Floyd, rather than for you, Azul...”

Azul nodded at first uncertain and the room has fallen into silence once again until you spoke.

“Well, Floyd,” you turned to him, trying your best not to wander your gaze away from him, “Please, take your time with answering, but I want your response to be, uh, honest.”

You were tripping onto your own words, embarrassment soaring in your body as you started to think that you should’ve kept quiet. But Floyd was patient with your answer, as well as Jade and Azul who observed the situation as if they predicted it before.

“I mean- Okay, just answer the question.” You took an erratic breath. “Would you like to—”

“Sure!” Floyd interrupted you before even hearing the whole question. “I would like to do everything with you.”

You stood there, all confused. But, by Floyd’s expression you knew that he guessed what you wanted to say. Face heating up, you forgot about Azul and Jade, who hid a chuckle by turning his head to the side.

“How fun,” he said as Floyd wrapped his arms around you, as if shielding you from other people in the room.

“I won’t share Shrimpy with you, Jade. Not a chance.”

[xiaosstepstool]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Genshin Tickle Headcanons

The basics

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hi! I’m Oce. I write a little bit and I have lots of inspiration for the Genshin characters! So I decided to drop my own little thoughts about our favourites here on this page.

These headcanons are very specifically tickle related. If that’s not your thing, please skip! If it is, hi! Stick around, let’s be friends <3

Without further ado…

KAZUHA

- I’m on an Inazuma boy high

- So take these and enjoy them

- Number one, squeaky! Squeaky giggles!

- I think Kazuha is such a cool, level-headed person, but the moment someone pins him and gets his worst spots he’s shy and his laugh is so, different? Unique to him as a person, at least

- Like, he’s a little whiny. Little “Noo!“s, that get mixed in with the sweetest giggles you’ve ever heard. And he BLUSHES.

- It’s hard to see Kazuha this flustered. You can shower him in compliments and gifts and you’ll get a warm smile, maybe a small colouration on his cheeks or ears, but when he’s TICKLED? Oh he’s so red it’s concerning. Like you will have to take breaks because he’s losing air and he’s so embarrassed AAA

- Will hide his face in his hands, too busy trying to cover himself to fight back (not that he’d want to)

- Oh yeah, I think he likes being tickled, a little bit more than most of the characters? Take that as you will ;)

- But he can’t handle it, he just, combusts. Squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, grips onto whatever he can if he’s not hiding his face in his hands

- Afterwards he’s even worse, he’s clingy and pouty and it’s adorable but jeez

- Like the ler has to give him aftercare, he makes them with his teary eyes

- In my mind, Thoma is the perfect ler for him because of this. That man is the best at aftercare, he���s such a sweet ler and it’s the perfect combination for Kazuha’s BRATTY shy lee

- Thoma is also the perfect bratty lee for Kazuha’s evil ler! But I’ll get into my whole thing with these two separately, probably a fic? Huehuehue

- Also yes, you heard right! Despite the embarrassed, emotional hot mess Kazuha becomes when he’s tickled, he’s a very teasy, mean ler!

- And not physically mean in the ways where he’ll push limits, although maybe he would if he was given permission, he’s just smart. He knows what verbal teases work best on who he’s tickling, what spots to tickle, how to tickle them

- will psychologically wreck you, essentially

- He uses these skills he’s developed to absolutely destroy whoever he gets his hands on. So he’s very good in tickle fights, even if he’s easy to take down himself. You have to pin his hands if you wanna win against him

- He’s also the kind of person just to pinch people randomly? Especially Gorou or Aether, they are absolutely asking for it. Their bare skin is right there. And he knows they don’t mind it, so of course he’s gonna just, scratch!

- Also, long nails. He definitely has long nails, I stand by this, and he uses them well

- I think he might grind his teeth under his nails? This isn’t tickle related it’s just a genuine headcanon that he does that, but his nails are still long, maybe just a little fragile so he breaks them easily

- kazuha ticklish palms??????????? Yes????

- He’s the kind of ler to laugh AT his lee, rather than with them

- His favourite people to tickle would probably include, Thoma, gorou and aether like mentioned, but also Ayaka and Yoimiya.

- Gets tickled by literally everyone who has ever laid eyes on him. Besides those mentioned above, he also definitely gets tickled by Beidou, but he’s never able to get her back because she is TOO good. Also Kokomi definitely tickles him but he respects her too much to do anything back, he just, dies on the spot.

- Kazuha gives me the vibes that he has two worst spots, both send him into silent laughter, and neither are necessarily hard to reach or find. First being the back of his ribs, or just his ribs in general, but definitely more specifically the backs or sides. Also his hips, because, I said so

- he’s definitely ticklish everywhere though, but maybe, surprisingly, not so much his feet? I can’t see his feet being SUPER ticklish for some reason

- I think he likes tickling everyone everywhere also, but I think he’s the kind of person to tickle someone’s neck and ears with a flower or leaf? He’s definitely gotten snapped at by Gorou for that before because he doesn’t even need to fully touch anything to Gorou’s ears, they flinch just having something near them.

- I just think he bullies the puppy AHA he’s the kind of person to give Gorou belly rubs that become tickles just when he gets comfortable and starts to relax

- overall headcanons time!

- level of overall ticklishness: 8/10 he’s not the worst, but man he is a sensitive babie

- his laugh: muffled LOL he’s trying to hard. You’re definitely gonna be tickling those laughs out of him, he’ll hold back. Gets louder the longer you tickle him. Squeaky giggles! Small whines.

- best spots: ribs, armpits, hips! 

- lee/ler percentage: 70/30, I’m sorry I really think he likes being tickled </3

[whosharrystylesanyway]

Capisce?

A/N: Hello!! I've been on a very long fic writing hiatus, but something about this fic slam by @oh-honey-styles has sparked inspiration! I do hope that you enjoy and please don't hesitate to let me know if you enjoyed it or not!! Thank you! Happy reading! P.S. this has a lot of talk of dishwashers for someone who doesn't use one.

Word count: 1.2k

“Ow, Harry!” you shout out, pushing him off your chest with as much might as you could muster up. “Your damn puberty stache is scratchy, you know!” You cover the bottom of his face with both your hands, which results in him biting the inside of your hand as retaliation.

He blows air out of his nose, “You know your leg hair is scratching me as we speak, but at least I have the decency to not mention it,” he jests. He dives back into your neck, blowing raspberries against the base of it, nipping occasionally just to get a rise out of you.

“You’ve got one more time to irk me and I’m out of here!” He rolls his eyes as if to say yeah right. You also don’t believe your own words as you say them. He finally stops his attack on your neck, turning over onto what you and him have both deemed as his side of the bed; the right side, he prefers.

Silence falls over your bedroom, a comfortable silence that 7 months ago would have caused you so much anxiety you would go home, but now, 8 months into this—whatever this is, you welcome it after getting to know Harry so well. Isn’t it crazy what mutual friends and a couple conversations over cocktails can turn into?

“Can I tell you something,” you ask him, breaking the silence. Vulnerability suddenly sinking in like it tends to do when you’re around him. He always gets you to open up like no other man has ever been able to before, you chalk it up to his overwhelmingly charming aura.

He hums a yes, turning back to face you.

“I think you’re very special, Harry. You’re so special, and everyone loves you and I don’t know, I-I’m scared that you’ll break my heart or something. This...this thing between us, it’s good right? I jus- I just want to be enough for you,” you huff out, pulling the sheets over your head in embarrassment.

Harry smirks and chuckles at your hasty confession. “You’re more than enough, love. Too much actually if I’m honest”

“Quit smirking at me, I’m serious!“ you whine at him. “That’s not very treat people with kindness of you”

He giggles that adorably boyish giggle, but looking at him anyone can see he is a man. A very important man who had admirers all over the world, but somehow you lucked out and he became your only admirer. You’re the one he looked for when he was on stage. The one he called at 2 A.M when he woke up in a completely different time zone, but wanted to say good morning regardless. The one who he always found an excuse to touch when you were out with your friends. The one who’s bed he rolled around in to leave his smell in it before he left.

“I’m jokinggg,” he quips. He wrestles you from out under the sheets. You elbow him in his side for his joking in your time of humiliating self-doubt.

“Well, how ‘bout this,” he takes your hands in his, pulling them up to his mouth and smothering small kisses to your palm. “Right now, in this moment, I promise to you that I will do everything in my power to not break your heart and you promise to do everything in yours not to break mine? Capisce?”

Harry has nothing but sincerity in his eyes waiting for your response. You wonder how you got so lucky to get this magnificent, magnetic man to be yours, in whatever capacity that happened to be.

“Capase,” you laugh out. You kiss him quickly, before moving to get up. Two very strong, very tattooed arms wrap around your waist, stopping you from your task.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he questions, pulling you back into his arms. Spooning you, resuming his attack on your neck like the pest he is.

You burst out into laughter, trying and failing to escape his grasp, ‘I need to go load the dishwasher!” Laughing harder as he begins tickling your side, showing no mercy.

“Oh no, ya don’t. Can’t leave me all alone in this bed, naked and….naked,” he whispers into your ear, moving his hands down further underneath the covers. And well, you suppose he’s right.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next morning, there in front of your dishwasher; unloading an already clean load of dishes, stood Harry.

You admired him for a minute. All 6 feet, broad shoulders and robust chest, of him that is. He pulls out a dish towel from your kitchen drawer, and you can’t help but notice how familiar and comfortable he is in your kitchen. You clear your throat to make yourself known.

“Wait a minute..” you begin walking towards him, as he turns around from buffing the forks off with the dish towel. “Let me get this straight? You’re handsome, funny, a millionaire, make the most amazing vegan omelettes ever, can give me four orgasms during only foreplay, AND you do dishes?”

“Correct,” he answers back smirking, moving to the island to finish chopping some fresh strawberries on the cutting board. “Problem?”

“Nah, no problem. Just can’t believe someone hasn’t wifed you up yet” you quip, while stealing one of the strawberries and trying to avoid his light smack on your hand.

He laughs while plating his and yours omelettes on a plate with the strawberries and buttered toast. “Maybe I just haven’t found the right husband material,” he jokes back.

With a quick wink, you simply replied, “Keep this up and I might not let you leave for tour mister”

You look up at him, shyly, wondering how he might take that sentiment. If it bothered him, it certainly didn’t show on his face. He just smiles at you, and lowers to give you a quick peck, tasting of strawberries and something all his own. “Maybe that’s my master plan,” he whispers against your lips, before going in for another kiss. Deeper this time, his intentions clear in how he grips your thighs and squeezes your hip.

He lifts you up onto the counter, omelettes pushed aside and forgotten, moving to kiss your neck and the top of your breasts. “Harry..” you sigh out, pulling his hair to get him to stop and focus on you for a second.

He looks at you with those evergreen eyes and lips flushed from how hard he kissed you before and it just comes out. You don’t mean to say it, in fact, you never thought of yourself as the girl who says it first. But there in that moment, you couldn’t deny what you felt. “I love you,” soft and faint, but you said it.

He stares at you for what feels like hours, but could only have been about 40 seconds. And then he says it back, as hushed as you did; raspy, deep and confident. “I love you too”

You pull him back into your mouth, noses knocking against each other from the force of your kiss. He swipes his pink tongue against your bottom lip, asking for your permission. You grant it undoubtedly.

Harry breaks the kiss, pecking against your jaw, your neck, your sternum…

“Here, let me show you how much,” he purrs into you stomach, kissing his way down your thighs, inches away from where you want him to be. Before he dives in, you hear him mutter

“By the way, I can give you five orgasms during foreplay, actually”

[indianamoonshine]

Strawberry | Chapter 13 | Common Tongue

Summary: This chapter is titled after a Hozier song. Take that as you will.

Rating: M. If I see anyone minor interacting with this or hear of anyone reading it, I will block your ass.

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag @lumimon47 @dodgerandevans @hallway5 @dancingwiththeplanets @steeevienicks @orneryscandallousandevil @ficthots @gaiusfrakkinbaltar @reginagina-blog1 @loveme-tenderly @lastphoenixrising @rattlemyb0nes @rebellou @alljusthumans @gaiuswrites @lovecatsnotpeople @literallydontlook

“I’m a virgin,” you had said to him one night.

It meant nothing.

It meant nothing because, to him, you were the same with or without having slept with someone. Din knew that - had you chose him - it would be an honor. He would think no differently of you either way, and that even if the two of you never had sex, he was glad to have met you.

Now he thinks he may be addicted.

Part of him really wishes that you hadn’t gone this far; that the innocence would have lasted until whenever it was that he forced to leave. Because now he was in over his fucking head.

Behind the shed, you’d grabbed his hand and palmed yourself against the cotton of your underwear. The song of cicadas did a humbling job of masking your little pants or the way you whimpered beneath him. And, sure, Din did everything in his power to break traditional norms, but he wasn’t going to fuck you behind a shed for the first time. His heart broke when he separated himself from you and you whined underneath your breath in protest.

“Come on,” he huffed, lungs attempting to keep up. “Let’s go.”

|

Three minutes.

That’s how long it took to run from the main house to the cabin. Three goddamned minutes was a record. You don’t recall running that fast since becoming an adult. If your high school gym teacher has witnessed the velocity in which you just sprinted, she’d be amazed.

It was good old fashioned motivation.

Fortunately, Din’s barely taken his hands off of you so he managed to catch your clumsy ass when you tripped over the lip of the front door. The two of you had chuckled against the other before he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. You place a hand upon your cheek in feign distress. “But I think I may need to lay down…”

Your tone, which is laced with suggestive demure, has Din raising a brow. “Oh yeah?” he growls.

You nod sweetly, lips still pressed against his. “Mm hm.”

|

You’re so goddamn beautiful.

When he presses you against the plushness of the sheets, he admires the way your hair fans about you and frames your face. Your cheeks are flushed and your lips plump from his kiss, the natural pout of them more pronounced now that he’s bitten and sucked at the flesh. The brilliance of your skin glows beneath the yellow light, neck joining the expanse of your bust which heaves with endurance. He kisses down your pulse point until he reaches the neck of his t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

“Can I?” he whispers against the hollow of your neck, fingering the edge of the fabric.

“Yes.”

|

You’ve never been this exposed to anyone other than the occasional friend (when changing) or your sisters (also when changing). It’s been so long since you’ve gone outside of yourself - into the very thick of reality - so when he asked if he could reveal you to it, the urgent “yes” surprised yourself.

Still - it’s another kind of anxiety; not violent, but in the way. When he’s stripped the shirt from your body - carefully, as though he were unwrapping a priceless antique - it’s a natural instinct to cover yourself, confident of the way you weren’t.

“Take all the time you need,” he whispers against the flesh of your neck. “I’m a patient man.”

It should’ve been enough and maybe in an alternate universe it was. Maybe that version of you threw all misogynistic beauty standards out the window into the night, but in this present day-in-age, you took a minute to go over the mental checklist. What if you weren’t to his standards? What was the situation like down there? What would you do if he wasn’t all that you decided him to be?

How long would it take to heal from that?

Before your mother died she took your hand and made you promise: I will do everything I can to feel joy, as fleeting as it may be. There are lessons to be learned. She’d made you chant it in a monkish way, as though preforming a ceremony in the sterility of a hospital room strung with cheap tinsel and a sad, plastic tree at her bedside. You’d understood what she meant then like the way a student might understand the components of Ancient Greek; not until it is utilized can its full potential make any sense at all.

The philosophers - and your mother - be onto something.

|

Something like a muffled version of his name slips lazily through your lips. And while it’s dissected, pulled apart with a lazy and tense breath, it’s the first time his name has sounded poetic. Din never thought of himself this way; that his person could ever inspire such an organic response as the way you unwound beneath him. He’s laid with women before - three, he thinks - but he’s not positive he’s ever experienced a woman before.

Xian was good at what she did and she knew it; Din wasn’t oblivious to that but it lacked a certain something. The other times his body has been weaved together with another’s was faceless; just hookups he’s tried so desperately to forget. Hazy nights in which he woke up to in the morning, their backs to him, and identity indistinguishable. Eventually he just stopped trying.

It wasn’t until now with your fingers clutching at his hair that he realized how the act - the very dance itself - could be purifying. How it could wash away the very worst of similar experiences and how it made something that always felt cheap now priceless. The body is a temple, his elders would always say, and it never made any sense to him. The body is a fortress made to withstand hurricanes and torpedos. It was no place to kneel, to worship, to inspire anything other than sheer refuge.

How ironic, as kneeling was the very thing he was doing now.

Irony wasn’t the word. Fateful, he supposes, as he tastes the fruit that’s always been so forbidden to him. Your thighs clench around his head and the fingers that have been stroking his hair grip the sheets, white knuckling the starched weave, until a gasp is caught in your throat. And then there is nothing but the pressure of ignition until it crumbles around you, fizzing the air with something akin to champagne bubbles.

There is no nasally whine that follows afterwards like there always had been before you. No wild “yes!” that pollutes the air. Just the instability of a weakened chest, the grasping at air, and the delicious feel of your hand enveloping his after having pulled it from your sex.

|

You weren’t a stranger to penetration though this was was with exceptions; no one had ever done anything to you with foreign or, well, domestic objects. At the age of eighteen, your friends at the time had dragged you to the building on the east end of town that never officially existed until legality said that it did. La Boudoir Rouge was the place ‘vodka aunts’ went to cure the blues, bought mysterious items, and then hid the pink bags in the back of their closets.

So, yes; sex was a foreign exchange policy you’ve never found yourself involved in, but you knew the dynamics. You’d bought equipment and even enjoyed it more than you’d initially expected. Penetration wasn’t at all strange to you.

This made it easier, you think, as Din finally slides in. There was a stretch of course, and it took you a moment to get comfortable enough to brave any movement. Din drops his forehead upon yours, letting out a strangled breath through his nose, as you struggle to come to terms with the size. He’d given off an energy but…

“It’s so big,” you gasp once he reaches the spongey part of you. It feels stupid, it falls short on a botched intake of breath, but it’s the truth.

Din’s composing himself, silent in his endeavor to mold himself within you. His arms are pressed on either side of you, body flush against yours with his pelvis meeting your pubic bone. There’s another moment of silence before he kisses at your temple.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

A smile graces your lips, though your eyes are clenched. “That’s an understatement.”

|

The pace is fast, sweat inspiring. It drips down your neck until it falls in the valley of your breasts and Din wants so badly to lick it from your skin, but he’s too distracted by the way you clench around him. It’s ironclad - it’s the best goddamn pussy he’s ever had.

He wants to tell you that but he’s unsure of how you’d react. You’ve been letting out delicious gasps and moans reaching an octave you’d never reach sober, but not you’re coherently vocal enough for him to say it outright.

And then you breathe it in a pathetic whine: “It’s yours, Din. It’s yours.”

He almost stops, but his body is hellbent on seeing this through. Whatever the fuck this was; a spiritual experience maybe. Perhaps he’d died after the last mission - broken and buried underneath mounds of dirt - and now rests in paradise where he fucks his way through eternity.

A raw, animalistic response possesses him, the fistful of flesh from your hips is replaced by the swell of you cheeks. He embraces you softly, but sternly enough to incite a whimper.

“What was that, chica bonita, huh?”

You throw your head back as he slams his hips against yours with more force, the excitement conjuring a great wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins. You try to speak but it fails to materialize.

He was balls deep and you were still shy by your interjection.

“What’s mine, sweet girl?” he whispers, mouth tickling along your collarbones. The contrast of gentle words and barbaric thrusts is something he’s never experienced during sex. Ever.

You let out one more mouthwatering whine before saying: “My pussy is yours, Din. Take it. Please, please…”

|

Suffice to say, that’s what does it. The two of you cum at the same time, like a synchronized dance, clutching one another so tightly it leaves red ribbons. Your fingernails had dug into his forearms and his at your waist in which his hands wrapped around. He lets out a deep, broken growl as you whimper, shaking like a leaf, and he pulls out just in time to paint your belly with pearlescent threads.

He collapses on top of you, knocking the wind from your fragile body. You’re absolute jelly beneath him, crumbled into bits, and would never be the same. Let’s stay here forever, you want to tell him.

Din presses his face into the hollow of your neck, listening to the rapid pulse beneath flushed and thin skin. Then he kisses the blood flow beneath once, twice. “My gorgeous girl…”

Stay with me. Stay with me.

You wrap your arms - which have settled from the convulsions - around his neck and hug him tightly against you.

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

All That I Ask

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 6990

Warnings: Smut. Smut, feels, and Sam Winchester being wonderful. There’s a brief moment of post-traumatic dissociation, but the traumatic event itself isn’t discussed or really even named. Otherwise, it’s about as gooey and sweet as a fuckin marshmallow. This is like... fix-it fic for life-canon. 

A/N: Whether it was rape or coercion or just a partner who didn’t care enough to make you feel comfortable, I think almost every woman knows what it’s like to feel powerless or unsafe during sex. This is about agency and trust and hang-ups and recovery, and how partners should handle those things.  

This was inspired by a request from @the-departed-patato. Thank you for trusting me with this one. I didn’t realize until I started typing that this was something I really really needed to write.

Also, major thanks to the Slack squad for edits and support and trying to curb my comma habit: @rockhoochie, @icemankazansky, @fangirlxwritesx67, @stunudo​ y’all are amazing.

Here’s my heart, don’t break it.  It’s all that I ask, nothing more.  - “Moonlight,” Future Islands

1.

This is so stupid. 

This is Sam. This is sweet, kind, gentle Sam, and I’m head over heels for him. 

I want him. How could I not? I’ve wanted to do this since I met him, and now I can. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I can run my hand up his side, down his chest, tracing the ripply contours of abs, and god dammit, I want him. 

He rolls me onto my back, hips slotting in against me. I can feel the drag and catch of denim, I can feel where he’s hard against the crease of my thigh, and I can feel his weight on me, holding me, pressing into me, trapping me, and I can feel myself start to shut down. 

This is so stupid. 

I remind myself that I’m safe. He’s being gentle, I tell myself. He’s not holding my wrists, he’s not pinning me, he’s not doing anything that should make me feel unsafe. 

I’m still shutting down. I stare at a point somewhere over his shoulder as he kisses my neck, and I remind myself that I’m being stupid, and I can’t fucking breathe. 

“Hey,” he whispers, and then he’s looking down at me, rolling onto his side again, and I try to focus on him but part of me is seeing someone else. 

“Sorry,” I whisper, voice small and tight around the lump in my throat. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, so fucking sweet with his sunflower eyes wide and concerned. I shake my head. 

“No, it’s stupid,” I squeak. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, you didn’t — we can — I’m fine.” 

“Do you need space, or — how can I help?” 

“Don’t go,” I breathe. “Please don’t, I’m okay, just come… come here?”  

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, putting an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “Hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m right here. Take your time.” 

I burrow into his chest, tears stinging my eyes as I start to break the grip of whatever cold thing has been clutching at my ribcage. 

This is so fucking stupid. 

I remember to breathe, and Sam waits. He strokes my hair, whispers soothing nonsense, cradles me close. 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out eventually. I can’t look him in the eye; I look at his neck instead, the steady flutter of his pulse under the skin. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, soft but fierce. “Nothing. You hear me?” 

“‘Kay.” I swallow hard and try to shake it off. “We can — it’s not that I don’t want to. Do you want—” 

“Stop,” he interrupts. “There’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this because you think you should… for my sake? That’s not how it works.” 

He curls a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his eyes, and I feel hot all over at the tenderness in his expression. I blink away tears and give him a tiny nod. 

“This is about the guy you told me about?” he asks, tentative. “Was it… it was more than you made it out to be, wasn’t it?” 

I nod again. I don’t trust myself to make words. My heart is racing, and I can feel the panicked beat of it in my throat, choking me. 

“We need to talk about this, at some point. Okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know what not to do. I don’t ever want to scare you.” 

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and so goddamn crazy about him. 

“We don’t have to do that now, though. Just rest. You’re safe with me.” 

2.

 “Good morning, gorgeous,” Sam whispers when I stir. He’s spooned up behind me, one big solid arm around my waist, and I settle myself more comfortably in the cocoon of his embrace. Then I remember. 

“About last night—” I start hesitantly. 

“If you’re going to try to apologize again, stop right there,” he says, and I can hear the wry smile in his voice. “But if you want to talk about it…” 

We didn’t close the curtains, and the morning sun is filtering through the blinds of the motel room, making everything feel clean and bright and fresh. It’s easier like this, too, with my back to Sam. I don’t have to feel his eyes on me. 

“There hasn’t been anyone else, since,” I admit. My voice sounds very small in the quiet of the room. “So… I don’t really know what causes it. Not for sure.”  

Sam exhales slowly, his breath tickling the curve of my neck. “What happened last night, to set it off?” 

“Having you on top of me, I think. It’s not — you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you. That’s all on him,” Sam says. The faintest hint of a growl in his voice takes me by surprise. “No blame, okay? I’m not going to take it personally. Not ever.” 

“Okay. Um. Feeling… held down, or trapped. And you shouldn’t — don’t grab my wrists?” 

“I can do that. What else?” 

“I think… just, not too rough?” I ask, cheeks burning. “I don’t think I could handle… too much. The first time, at least.” 

“Okay,” he agrees calmly. “And what else? What does work for you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This isn’t about, like, just making it manageable for you,” he says, low and earnest, kissing the curve of my neck. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. “Oh. Um.” 

I’m suddenly very conscious of his hand splayed over my lower abdomen, his palm warm through the thin cotton of my tank top.  He must feel the way my belly tightens, because he slides his hand a little lower, thumb tucking under the hem and stroking back and forth, tickling deliciously. 

It’s such a light touch, a barely-there brush, but it’s sending sparks down my spine. I wriggle back against Sam, wondering if the sudden crackle of tension in the air is just my imagination. 

“I want to know what gets you off.” Sam’s voice is husky and heated, and my breath hitches. It’s not just my imagination, then. “I want to make you come. It’s not just about… penetration, or whatever.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and I wonder if that’s the first time someone has made the word penetration sound sexy. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want my mouth?” 

I shift, and I can feel him getting hard through his pajama pants. 

“Yeah,” I whisper.  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I want that. Sam… want you.” 

His hand slides lower, until the tips of his pinky and ring finger are dipping under the elastic of my shorts. 

“When you touch yourself,” he says quietly. “What do you do? Can you show me?” 

“I don’t—”

His hand finds mine where it’s curled loosely on the mattress, slides under it so that my palm rests on the back of his, and he laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands back to my stomach. 

“Can you show me?” he repeats, and the warmth of his hand is burning through my shirt, pooling in my core, making me want like I haven’t wanted another person in a long time. 

“Oh.” I take a deep breath. 

I guide his hand lower, flush against my skin, under my waistband and down until his fingers cup my cunt. When I press my middle finger down against his, he moves with me, one long finger parting my lips and stroking through silky wet heat. He follows my lead, waiting for me, his knuckle bending when mine does, nudging against my entrance. His finger is so much longer than mine. When I curl it, pressing in, it’s him sliding into me, his fingertip, shallow and easy. 

I exhale slowly, not pushing, and he stays, chest rising against my back as he sucks in a deep breath, waiting for my direction. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?” I ask. 

“Yeah,” he says, low and gravelly. 

“Good.” 

I’m shaky and wet and aching with how much I want him, and I’m not sure where this is going, not sure I’m ready for more than his fingers, but I need him to understand: none of this, none of my hesitation, is because I don’t want him. 

I draw his hand up, showing him where to stroke with one slick fingertip, circling my clit, and I can feel him trembling too, all down my back, his cock hard where it presses against my ass. This torturous drawn-out intensity, the way he’s waiting for me… it’s almost unbearable, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move any faster. 

We breathe in sync, both our chests heaving at the same time as the zing of it ripples out through me, and —

Someone bangs on the door. 

“Up and at ‘em!” Dean shouts. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, as Sam lets out a low groan. It takes every bit of my willpower to pull away. When I roll to face him, he’s just as wild-eyed as I feel, flushed and panting and gorgeous. 

We’re both paralyzed for a second, staring at each other, until he lets out a long sigh. 

“Later,” he husks, and it sounds like a promise. 

“Later.” 

3.

Later, when we fall into bed, I’m shaking for a completely different reason. 

It wasn’t a bad hunt, in the end. It’s just one moment that keeps replaying in my memories on a sickening loop. There was so much blood, all down the side of his face and neck, and he went still in a way that made my heart stop for a second. 

Apparently ears bleed a lot. 

I felt a little embarrassed when I saw the injury, a barely-there slice through the cartilage, but I couldn’t shake the sight of all that blood. There’s still traces of it on his skin, dried in his hair. My stomach churns whenever I catch a glimpse of rusty red. 

He pulls the comforter up over us, lying on his uninjured side, and I kiss him, deep and starved, my entire body vibrating with the tension of lingering adrenaline, like my skin is sparking up with the reminder that we’re still alive and we should enjoy it while we can. 

I can feel it in his muscles, too, the way he’s holding back, holding himself stiff like he has to restrain himself. He rolls onto his back and takes me with him, arms strong around me, body warm and ready under me. 

I choke on a quiet sob, trying to hold it in.

Sam freezes, big hands cupping my cheeks as he breaks the kiss. He looks at me, eyes deep green-gold in the lamplight. 

“It’s not — it’s not that. You scared me.” 

“I know,” he says. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“Want you,” I say fiercely, watching the way his swollen-red lips twitch into a bittersweet smile. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not when you’re already on edge. If your fight or flight system is still all revved up…” 

He’s right, but I hate it. He brushes hair back from my forehead and kisses me again, chaste and quick. 

“Okay,” I whisper, against his mouth. “Just… god, you scared me, Sam.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and I kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other. 

“I need a shower,” he says. 

I frown, feeling childish as I confess, “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I didn’t mean — come with me,” he suggests. “Shower with me. Not — no sex.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really?”

“You don’t have to,” he backtracks gently. “If you’re not ready to—” 

“Sam, I’ve wanted to see you naked since I met you,” I say flatly. “Believe me, that is not the problem.” 

He laughs, dimples flashing as he grins up at me. “Then… yeah. Come shower with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight either.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He only turns on half the bathroom lights, keeping it dim. The harsh fluorescents would be too much. It’s easier to pull my shirt off when I feel like I can still hide in the shadows. 

I try not to stare as he strips down matter-of-factly and steps in, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look at myself, either, when I compare my body to Sam’s. I get my clothes off before I can talk myself out of it, tripping clumsily out of my jeans. 

He must see something different than I do when I look at myself, because the way he stares at me when I step into the shower… he looks at me like he never wants to stop looking. 

I’ve never felt like this before, shaky and vulnerable and open but in a good way, because somehow I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling like this. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust Sam. That trust is what stops me from covering myself with my hands, stops me from doubting myself as I step under the spray with him and stand up on my tiptoes for a kiss. 

One kiss turns into more, syrupy-slow, water streaming down our skin as we melt into each other. Sam licks and sucks and nibbles at my mouth until my lips feel puffy and bruised. I adjust, slowly, to the feel of his body against mine, the way my soft curves mold to the muscled planes of his chest, the way his cock twitches against my stomach as he gets hard, and even though I can feel the length of him hot and heavy between us, he doesn’t press for more; he kisses me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. 

By the time he pulls away, I’m light-headed. He looks down at me with water beading in his spiky eyelashes, and he smiles. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, and somehow, I believe him. 

I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs his shampoo from the edge of the tub and turns me around, my back to his chest. 

He massages little sudsy circles into my scalp and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. He shields my eyes when it’s time to rinse, tilting my chin back gently into the spray. Nobody’s done this for me since I was a child. It makes me feel innocent and serene and fucking treasured, the way he takes care of me. 

Sex has always felt like the height of intimacy to me. I always feel vulnerable, like that’s the closest I can get to another person, the most exposed. 

Sam’s fingers in my hair feel like a better expression of trust than anything I’ve ever done in bed. Sex has never felt this intimate. I’m not sure anything has ever felt this intimate. 

Everything starts to fade, the leftover adrenaline draining out of me, the outside world ceasing to matter. It’s just Sam and me, completely bare, wrapped in our little steamy cocoon. I feel safe. I feel exhausted, heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, muscles aching, but I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel nervous. I just feel safe. 

4.

Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I want to lick Sam’s arms. 

He’s stretched out over the pool table as he lines up his shot, eyes laser-focused, hands curled around the cue. He has his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and I can see veins standing out under the skin, corded muscles rippling, bunching and shifting with every twist of his wrist. 

Yeah. I want to lick Sam’s arms. 

Dean spits out a sip of his beer, spluttering out a vehement, “Ew, I don’t want to hear that shit!”  

So apparently I said that out loud. 

Dean stalks away, muttering to himself, and I chirp a quick “Sorry!” to his retreating back. 

He’ll get over it. 

Sam’s done with his game, and he’s walking toward me, grinning in that slow easy way of his as he tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I can’t handle not touching him any more. 

“Can we get some air?” I ask breathlessly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement as he lets me tug him outside. 

There are a couple people smoking by the door, so I pull him farther away, down to the end of the building, where a tacky wooden statue of a bear stands between us and the door. It’s close enough to privacy. 

Sam slouches back against the brick, and I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him, leaning against him and trusting him to keep me upright. He goes with it, opening up for me as I take control of the kiss, his lips pillowy, and I can feel him smile. 

“What was that for?” he asks, when I give him a second to breathe. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and nip at his pulse, and his fingers tighten on my hips. 

“Just want you,” I say bluntly. I kiss him again, a deep filthy kiss that I can feel down to my toes. “I was watching you, and… yeah. Want you. Can we go back to the motel?” 

“You’re drunk,” he says, mock-admonishing, but he’s still smiling. 

“‘M not drunk, you’re drunk,” I mumble sulkily. 

“Yep,” he says, popping the P, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” I concede. “Tipsy, maybe.” 

“Which is still too drunk,” Sam says gently. 

I let out a tiny frustrated sound as he kisses me again. “Fine.” 

He laughs, shifting his weight, getting one knee between mine, and when I settle closer, I can feel the blunt pressure of his thigh right between my legs. 

“Believe me,” he whispers, between kisses, “I would really, really love to take you back to the motel right now but… it’s not a good idea.” He shifts, and I whine at the friction. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. I want us both to be sober for that. When we get there… I want to remember every second of it.” 

“Kinda worried I’m gonna combust before then.” The drag of denim on denim pulls at the seam of my jeans, almost painfully good, and I shiver. 

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he didn’t realize that he was torturing me. He rocks forward experimentally. It feels like fireworks. 

“Don’t oh me,” I grump, except it comes out more breathless than grumpy. 

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he whispers. “Don’t want to rush it. Want to take my time with you. I want to watch you come for me, want to taste it —” 

I whimper, rolling my hips helplessly, clinging to Sam so tight that my fingers must be bruising his biceps. 

“Do you like thinking about that?” he asks, growling low against my ear. “My mouth?” 

“Please,” I bite out. “Fuck, Sam, I need — something. Anything.” I tilt my hips down again, trying to make my point. 

He hesitates for a split second before rocking up to meet me, and I let out a ragged sigh. 

“I won’t — not tonight, not more than this,” he says hoarsely, stumbling over the words. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he asks intently, “Are you sure this is okay right now? If you really want —”

“Please,” I say again. I meet his eyes, embarrassed by how much I want him but steady in spite of it. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel like this, loose and relaxed and reckless, or maybe it’s just Sam, the way he’s letting me take the lead, the way he groans when I shudder against him, the way I trust him with my life and trust him enough to let him see me fall apart like this. 

And I am falling apart. I work my hips in little circles, feeling the dull burn of it clench in my gut with every tiny movement, pushing myself closer to the edge. 

Sam just lets me, chest heaving, murmuring filthy-sweet things in my ear: “I’m all yours. Anything. Don’t care how long I have to wait, just — want to make you feel good. Want you on top of me, want you to just — ride my mouth, rub yourself all over my tongue, want —” 

I let out a tiny, bitten-off whimper, hiding my face against his shoulder. My muscles spasm as I come, jerking against him, feeling it thud through me all at once like a punch to the gut. 

I’m almost surprised by it, and by the wave of relief that washes through me. It’s not the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the easiest by far. I never realized I could get off like that. 

Then again, any experience I’ve ever had with dry-humping was with the guy on top of me, hipbones bruising my thighs, and… yeah. No thank you. 

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, arms around me, supporting my weight as I collect myself.

“That was… unexpected,” I blurt out, and I giggle helplessly as I pull back to look at him. He grins back, and there’s something so dazed and beautiful in his expression that I lose my breath all over again. 

“I —” Sam starts, but he catches himself, shutting his mouth abruptly.

I’m falling in love with you, I think, heart pounding, but I know I can’t say it now, can’t say it like this. 

Sam and I look at each other in silence for a second, and then the moment passes. I flush, self-conscious, an apology on the tip of my tongue. 

“Don’t apologize, that was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me,” Sam says preemptively, before I can form the words. “You should go inside, before Dean comes looking for us. Just… give me a second?” He adjusts himself in his jeans, making a face, and I giggle. 

“See you in there.” 

5.

“That was easy,” Dean comments, as we buckle our seatbelts. “Where to next? Sammy, did you find anything in the paper this morning?” 

“Actually,” Sam says. “I could really use an evening off. Can we grab some food and go back to the motel and just… chill for the night?” 

He and Dean exchange one of those Winchester looks that don’t mean anything to anyone else but the two of them. 

“Sure,” Dean says easily. Sam smiles at me in the rearview, and I think, oh. 

My brain is my worst enemy. By the time we pull into the motel lot, I’m panicking, and I’m not even sure why. 

Sam’s laughing at something Dean just said, bathed in gold late-afternoon light, and he’s incredible, and I should want nothing more than to get him in our room and jump him, but my chest feels tight and I’m convinced that I’ll freeze up, freak out, mess it all up, and he’ll give up, he’s already been so patient — 

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks. The driver’s side door slams behind Dean, breaking me out of my trance. 

“Fine,” I say, too brightly. “I’m fine.” 

He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I try to smile at him. It doesn’t work. 

“I’m not fine,” I amend, and feel my face crumple. 

“Hang on one sec?” Sam asks, and I take a second to compose myself as he jumps out of the car. He and Dean have a whispered powwow and then Sam returns, key in hand, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Come sit up front,” he says easily, without explanation. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

“We can —” I try, but he cuts me off. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like there’s pressure,” he says firmly. “I just want to spend time with you. Let’s just… go for a drive.” 

So that’s what we do. When we leave the strip mall hell that surrounds the motel, Sam gets off the highway and we’re in the woods, driving up a winding mountain road. Sam seems to know where he’s headed; he mutters “Think it’s around here somewhere,” at one point, and then eventually he turns onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. 

He drives slow, easing into the sharp curves. I can breathe again. It’s hard to feel panicky out here, up in the open air, close to the pink-tinted sky. When the trees open up there are views of sprawling valleys, just starting to turn orange and yellow in the first hints of fall. 

There’s a wide pull-off for a scenic overlook, “Rocky Knob,” and Sam parks. The sun is setting behind us and the clouds are lined in deep pink now. 

Sam spreads his coat out on the scratchy grass, right in front of Baby, and we sit next to each other, watching in easy silence as the light fades and dusk falls. 

“Thank you,” I say quietly, tilting my head onto his shoulder. He slips an arm around me and I shift, turning to settle more comfortably against his side. A sliver of moon is just visible on the horizon. 

“You know you don’t —” he starts. His voice sounds choked and strange. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I just like seeing you happy. That’s more important to me than… any of the rest of it.” 

“Thank you,” I repeat, firmly, and he lets out a laugh that’s more of a sigh. 

I twist to kiss him, intending to make it a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, but he turns to meet me, tongue flickering over my lower lip, teeth scraping ever so carefully. One hand finds my cheek, and his fingers are so long that I feel dwarfed by the way they cradle and caress and pull me closer. 

I crawl into his lap, straddling him. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other between my shoulderblades, steadying me. I trace the hard lines of bones under skin, running my fingers along the jut of his jaw and stroking the hinge of it with my thumb, sliding the other hand back to cup the shape of his skull, and for all his size and strength he feels fragile under my fingers. I brush over his pulse and rub the soft hollow behind his ear, and I can feel how fragile this is, this thing between us and the way it makes him shake when he breathes. 

We’re both shaking, I realize, as I rest my forehead against his. The tip of my nose nudges against his. The curve of his lower lip brushes mine, barely, not intentional enough to be a kiss, just… close. 

Not close enough. Never close enough. 

“Sam,” I start, voice wobbling dangerously, but I don’t even know where to begin. His fingers twist in the back of my shirt, fisted in the fabric like he’s afraid to let go. He exhales — inhales — trembles. 

Somehow I never considered that I might not be the only one here who’s scared. 

I kiss him one more time, trying to tell him how I feel even if I can’t say the words yet, and then I pull away to look at him. His eyes catch and reflect the moonlight, glittering in the dark. 

“Let’s go,” I say, and my voice isn’t shaking any more. 

6.

Sam’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with himself once the motel room door clicks shut behind us; he turns the desk lamp on and just stands there, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

“We could watch a movie?” he offers. His hesitation makes it easier, somehow, to take the lead; I go up to him and tug at the hem of his shirt as I kiss his jaw. 

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” I say firmly. I slide my hands under his shirt and run my thumbs over the ridges of his hipbones. “Take this off?” 

He strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, smiling, shy and happy. 

We kiss and shed layers and kiss again, stumbling back toward the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, we’re down to our underwear, and even though I’ve seen Sam naked, now, the sight of him takes me by surprise. It doesn’t seem fair, how beautiful he is. All the bare golden skin throws me off-balance. 

He moves slowly into my space, running his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders, and when he kisses me, my head spins. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and stupid. Sam just folds to his knees in front of me, smiling up at me patiently. 

“Can I?” he asks softly. He runs his hands up my legs and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties. When I nod, he tugs, and I lift my hips to let him slide the fabric down until it’s out of the way. 

He moves closer, kneeling between my spread legs. He doesn’t look shy any more. He looks hungry, pupils huge in kaleidoscope blue-gold irises as he watches me through his lashes. 

I nod again, silently giving him permission, and his lips curl into a smile. Sam hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me forward, until I’m right on the edge of the bed. 

“Give me your hand?” he asks, and when I do, he brings it to his head, tangling my fingers through his silky hair. I lean on my other hand to brace myself and the position opens me up for him even more. “You’re in charge,” he reminds me. 

The first lick is slow, just a smooth wet curl of heat tracing up my center, good in a way that’s easy and sweet even if it’s not the ‘god more now’ kind of pleasure. I run my fingers through Sam’s hair idly, trying to relax. He does it again, dipping down and dragging up, before swirling his tongue over my clit, and the friction coils up and rolls out through my core. The next lush swipe of his tongue has more pressure behind it, and he lingers on my clit, flattening his tongue, massaging. I let out a little sigh, and he hums approvingly. 

“Want you to tell me what feels good, okay?” he asks, mouthing at the crease of my hip. “Or show me. Hold me where you want me.” 

How does he just say those things? 

Sam buries his face between my legs again, not just licking but working me over with his open mouth pressed to my cunt like he’s kissing me. He gets my clit between his lips and sucks gently, and it’s so good that I tug him closer helplessly, giving in to the pleasure before I even have a chance to hold back. 

“Sorry,” I gasp, relaxing my grip when I realize how hard I’m pulling. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to —” 

“I like it,” Sam growls, the words vibrating right up against me. Then he’s doing that thing again, slick pulsing pressure, and I give in, twisting my fingers in his hair and tilting my hips up to meet his mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. He moans low in his throat.

Every wave of suction feels more intense. It’s sharp and bright and perfect, building so fast I’m not sure what to do with myself; all I can do is hold on and arch up and shudder. I can feel it pulling up from my fingers, my toes, an inevitable swell of pressure under my skin until the wave of it finally crests and I come with a shout, long and drawn-out, one shock of pleasure after another. 

“Fucking — fuck, Sam,” I whine, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched and cracked. He flicks his tongue over me again and I twitch, jerking away from the raw-nerve feel of it. 

When I drag my eyes open he’s looking up at me, smiling, a dimple just visible as he turns his head to kiss my inner thigh. 

The fuck am I supposed to say to that? 

Apparently I can’t say anything to that. I think my brain has gone permanently offline. 

Sam sort of scoops me up and deposits me farther back on the bed, where I’m not at risk of falling down on my ass, and I grin dazedly as he stands up. His mouth is red and swollen and it looks like sin. 

“Still with me?” he asks, and I nod. “Be right back.”  

I scoot back until I can get under the blanket and sink into the pillows. I hear Sam rummaging in his shower kit, then the water running, but I don’t have the mental capacity to pay attention. My eyes are half-closed by the time he comes back. 

He sets a bottle of lube down on the nightstand and I avert my eyes uncomfortably, taking the glass of water he offers before he slides into bed next to me. 

“Why did that just make you get all shy?” he asks softly, correctly interpreting my expression. I shrug and twist away to set the glass down, but when I turn back to him, he’s still waiting for an answer. 

I cuddle close, tucking my head under his chin, listening to him breathe for a moment. He’s naked, hard against my hip, and I’m almost surprised by the way my body responds to that; my stomach flips, hot and eager, in spite of my racing thoughts. 

“It’s like… all of this,” I say hoarsely. “It just makes me feel like I’m being a pain in the ass. Because it’s supposed to be simpler than this. It means I’m not wet enough, and… I want you, and that should be the only thing that matters, and instead we have to go through this whole process of talking about my issues and… it’s supposed to be easier than this, and it’s my fault.” 

Sam is very still, muscles stiff, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s angry. 

“It’s not ‘supposed to’ be anything other than good for you,” he says sharply. “Look at me for a second.” 

I pull back, taking in the fierce, raw expression on his face. My chest feels tight. 

“Everybody’s different,” Sam says, quiet and intense. “Everybody has shit they like and don’t like, places they like being touched… it’s not an issue, and it’s especially not your issue. You’re not being difficult by telling me how to help you enjoy yourself. I want that. I want to know how to make you feel good. Okay?” 

“Okay,” I whisper. 

“And if I ever meet any of your exes —” he says, jaw clenching, eyes stormy. I let out a nervous little giggle, and his expression melts from thunderous to soft before he continues, “It makes me happy knowing that you feel safe. It’s hot, watching you get off on it… your reaction is what turns me on more than anything.” 

My stomach swoops. I slide closer, running a thumb over the soft swollen curve of his lower lip. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice dropping down low. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He rubs his palm over the curve of my hip like he can’t get enough of my bare skin. “When you were pulling my hair and just — the way you were shaking —” 

I cut him off with a kiss, melding my body to his, and he smiles against my mouth before opening up easily, kissing me back with these slow, sultry swipes of his tongue. I can feel him everywhere: bare all down my front, hands roaming like he can’t help himself, close and feverish under the blanket. I push it down, shivering at the cool air on my sweaty skin. 

When I tangle a hand in his hair and tug slightly, Sam makes a gorgeous needy sound, and his cock twitches, hard and thick against my stomach. I push him onto his back and he goes easily, pliant under me, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his lips as I straddle him. For a moment I feel paralyzed by the sight of him. The moment stretches and I just stare. 

Sam runs his hands up my hips, sliding one hand up between my breasts before tracing the curve of one with his knuckles, dragging his thumb over my nipple and circling as the skin pebbles under his touch. My shivery sigh of pleasure breaks whatever spell we were under. 

I duck down to kiss him again, and the movement presses the ridge of his cock right between my legs, silky skin hot where it slots up against me. When I roll my hips, we both groan. 

I reach for the lube. His smile goes smirky at the edges. 

“If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear to god —” I blurt out, and we’re both laughing as I touch him, slicking him up messily. 

It’s the laughter that erases the last of my doubts. My nervous giggle bursts like a bubble in my chest, releasing whatever tension I was holding there. I just feel light and giddy and happy as I wipe my hand on the blankets and position myself. 

Then I’m sinking down, opening up around him, and the sudden aching stretch turns my laugh into a breathy moan. Sam is watching me as I work my hips down, taking him in. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

I understand, now, what Sam meant: your reaction is what turns me on. Because if I’d wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how I feel now. He tilts his head back, arching up and exposing his throat, tendons shifting under the skin as he strains under me and gasps out my name, and the clenching wave of need in my belly is blinding. 

Fuck. 

I shift, lean forward, sparking up some new kind of friction deep inside where I’m so full of him, and I’m whimpering as I kiss him gently. 

“Okay?” he asks. I cup a hand to his jaw and he brings his own up to cover it, an oddly tender gesture. 

“So much better than okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth. 

I take it slow. We kiss, mouths clumsy with need, and I take it slow. 

It takes a few minutes to adjust to his size. I rock my hips in tiny little movements, circling, twisting, feeling all the different ways there are to just feel him. Every movement brings some new sort of sensation as he drags against every sweet spot deep inside me. 

I’m barely moving. I know he must want to fuck up into me, thrust, but he holds back, holds himself steady, lets me take what I need while he whispers sweet bits of nonsense against my lips. He tells me I’m beautiful, tells me I feel incredible, tells me I’m safe, and I trust him. 

Then I grind down harder, and something flares up inside me, quivering out from where his cock is pressing deep in my belly. I do it again. The low dull throb of it has me trembling, panting against his mouth as I brace myself to get more, harder, clenching around him desperately. 

Sam slides a hand down between us, flattening his palm over that spot, and I can feel the pressure building right there, but I need more. 

“Sit up for me?” he asks raggedly. “Lean back, it’ll —” 

He grits his teeth and cuts himself off, but I do it without questioning, sitting back on my heels and bracing my hands behind me. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t distracted by how good this feels. I’m barely moving, still, but Sam presses his palm down and tilts his hips up, and it’s like I can feel the molten force of it everywhere, like it’s going to split my skin. 

Sam looks as close to the edge as I feel, eyes glazed, and I can feel him jerking up to meet me. 

“Do it,” I hiss, and when he thrusts up for real, the surge of pressure makes me cry out, loud and shameless like I never am. 

One last urgent grinding roll, one last surge of pressure, and I’m gone. I let my head fall back and let go, trusting Sam to keep me tethered to the earth as everything else goes brilliant white and sends me flying. 

I’m distantly aware of the way he curses and twists up, the way he swells and twitches inside me, but there’s so much sensation that I can’t separate what’s him and what’s me; it’s all just one hot slick rhythmic pulsing rush as we ride it out, together. 

When I start to go shaky and useless, Sam tugs me so that I flop forward onto his chest. I melt against him, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck, skin thrumming with satisfaction. I kiss whatever bit of him is close to my mouth, and he tastes like salt. 

“So that’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” I mumble. 

“I don’t think it’s ever felt like that, with anyone,” Sam says quietly, like he’s telling me a secret. “But… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so.” 

I can tell he’s holding his breath. I put my palm on his chest. His heart is pounding, racing in counterpoint to mine, and I want to tell him that he’s safe; he can trust me with this. 

“Me too,” I whisper, and he exhales. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave me a message? It means the world. 

Thanks for reading. 

[naughtyneganjdm]

Parenthood

Summary: Being a parent is hard and exhausting, but being married to Joel makes it so much easier for Y/N after becoming a mother for the first time.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC)

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, etc.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31264607

Notes: Someone requested me to do a short one-shot for Joel and I know I've never written a Joel story directly, so this is my first. Technically I write a version of a character inspired by Joel for The Guest/Arcadia, BUT -- this is what I came up with. In case people didn't know Y/N means your name or you can insert any name you want. Thanks to anyone that reads it! And I also apologize for any potential errors, this was written rather fast and edited when I was really tired.

There it was again, that same incessant buzzing. Truthfully, Y/N should have been used to it by now. It had already been three months. It was the same time, every single night. Yet, when this time of night came, she never found herself ready. Drowsily, her eyes fluttered to an open. The room was still blurry while her tired eyes adjusted to the dark room around her. The only thing that lit up the room was the bright, red light from her alarm clock that she had set up. Three in the morning always came too fast.

Parenthood was the hardest thing she had ever experienced. Not that she didn’t love it. Hell, she loved every second of it, but you’re never prepared for how much work it truly takes when you have a baby. Everyone always warned her that it would kick her ass. Most of the time she thought it was a joke, but now she knew better. Then again, this wasn’t a normal world that she was living in. Maybe if things were ordinary and the world was like it used to be, things would be easier.

The fears of the infected were always lingering at the back of her mind. Not only that, but those that were trying to infiltrate the community was a repeating fear in her mind. There was never a dull moment in Jackson. The anxiety had always been there, but it just enhanced when she became a parent. Because then, you weren’t only thinking about yourself, but you were also thinking about the life of your child.

Finally mustering up enough strength, she turned her head into the pillow and let out a small groan. Sliding her palms out over the cool sheets beneath her, she pushed up with her strength and got herself into a seated position. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed caused a chill to fill her entire body. With the blankets and sheets wrapped around her on this cool fall night it had kept her nice and cozy. Without them, the briskness of the chilly Wyoming air had flooded in through the windows to her bedroom and she shuddered.

Curling her fingers around the edge of the bed, she dug them into the mattress and let out a yawn, “It’s my turn this time baby…”

Hearing nothing in return, she looked over her shoulder to see that her husband was missing from his side of the bed. Stretching out her hand toward his side of the bed, she felt the coolness of the sheets beside her showing that he had been gone for quite some time.

“Joel,” an undeniable grin tugged at the corners of her lips when she thought about her husband. There were no doubts in her mind where he was. It was where he was most nights. Even though they had set the alarm and she was always waking up, this was the same way most nights.

Getting up from the bed, she moved groggily through their dark bedroom making sure not to knock into anything until she managed to turn on the light. It may have been hard waking up at three in the morning for the feedings, but this was easily becoming her favorite time of the day. Quietly opening the bedroom door, she tip-toed through the hallway to try and stay quiet. A light filtered into the dark hallway just right outside the door of the baby’s room.

Coming to a pause, she stayed still in the hallway when she heard the faint sounds of Joel singing quietly and it made her heart full. Joel’s singing was something that had drawn her to him when she had first met him. On the outside Joel seemed like such a shy man. For him to sing, he really had to trust you at first, which of course blew her mind when she found out he wanted to be a singer when he was younger. Even though he was ridiculously charming, handsome and multi-talented, Joel had grown to become someone who was very self-conscious of himself. It was something she had been working on with him for quite some time. After helping him gain some confidence and getting him to open up to people, the walls he had worked so hard to build were slowly breaking down. Now he was giving guitar lessons to the folks in Jackson which was something Joel wouldn’t have done when she had first met him.

Dragging her feet, she stopped at the door to lean against the doorframe. The sight alone caused her heart to flutter inside of her chest. Joel was sitting in the corner of the room in the rocking chair that he had made himself. He was wearing his pajama pants with a burp cloth thrown over his shoulder. In his arms was their son. Joel’s eyes were locked on him with such love and adoration while he sang to him.

Awe flooded through her. It was a picture perfect sight. The two of her boys together reminded her all over again why she fought so hard for the life that she did. Having the two of them in her life made everything worth it.  Every day she found herself swooning over her husband in a new way. Joel made it easy to love him. On the outside he appeared to be rough and tough, but he had the biggest heart of anyone she had ever known.

A few minutes she spent just watching the two of them together until Joel’s eyes finally lifted up from their son to see that she was observing. It drew a smile to tug at the corners of his lips, but he didn’t stop singing. Once she knew that Joel was aware she was there, she moved into the bedroom and stepped beside Joel to look down at their son. The sound of Joel’s voice was calming him to the point of falling asleep again. As Joel finished the song, their son was fast asleep.

“He’s beautiful,” she reached out to place her hand over Joel’s bare shoulder, squeezing firmly at it. Joel leaned his head against her arm cherishing the warmth of her close to him. Seeing their son in his arms was beautiful. It blew her mind that together they were able to make something so pure and perfect.

“That’s because he looks like his mama,” Joel insisted and the compliment was intensified by the drawl of his Texan accent. It made her smile, but her eyes were drawn back to their son. Joel cuddled him in closer to his chest and hummed before speaking up again. “Isn’t that right Brayden?”

“Well, I think he looks like his daddy,” she corrected him, her fingers trailing up the side of Joel’s neck and toward his thick graying hair. Caressing over his scalp caused Joel’s eyes to close tightly and a worn-out sigh escaped his throat. “How long have you been in here babe?”

“A few hours,” Joel answered clearing his throat as he nodded over toward the baby bottle that was on the dresser. “I reckon I may have fed him like a half hour earlier than we were supposed to, but he was getting fussy and I figured I’d give you a break.”

“Well that’s because he knows his daddy is always going to be there to pamper him,” she continued to stroke her fingers through Joel’s hair. It was unbelievable how good of a father Joel turned out to be. Even with being as busy as he was for the people of Jackson, he always made sure to be there for Brayden. Even though parenthood was exhausting, she was thankful that Joel was the person that she got to share it with. Overall, Joel was a phenomenal father and husband. Without him, she was certain that she would have driven herself crazy. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too,” Joel lifted his head to stare up at her with exhausted, hazel eyes. When his eyes connected with hers, everything in the world seemed to fall into place for her. Joel was everything she could ever want and more. Lowering down, her lips collided with his and she delicately kissed him. The coarse hairs from his short beard tickled at her face and it made her smile against the kiss. When Joel noticed her smiling, he softly chuckled against her lips and hummed. “What?”

“You’re just…so perfect,” she declared, sliding her palm down over the side of his chiseled face. Appreciating his features, she knew that Joel was everything she could ever dream of. When she first met Joel, everyone labeled him as the handsome, grumpy, closed off brother to Tommy. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she would be married and have children with him, but here they were and she was so thankful for it.

“I think you may be a little biased,” Joel winked at her giving her another small peck against her lips before giving his attention back to their sleeping son in his arms.

“You should sleep sometimes you know. You work your ass off. What is Jackson going to do if you collapse from exhaustion?” she inquired, palming in over his muscular shoulders and over the planes of his upper back.

“If something was going to happen to me from sleep exhaustion, it would have already. In the last twenty years, it would have already happened with how much shit I’ve gone through,” Joel denied her claim with a snort. Pulling Brayden up closer to him, he pressed gentle kiss over his son’s forehead and sighed. “I think I’m actually used to not sleeping. In the past, I’d have so many nightmares that I hated sleeping. I got used to it. Now, I’m just afraid of going to sleep.”

“Why?” she frowned, lowering down to her knees beside the rocking chair and Joel looked to her with a saddened expression that made her chest hurt. Sliding her palm in over his thigh in a supportive caress, she tried to get him to open up to her in a calming way. “Joel?”

“Because everything is so…perfect,” Joel simply stated with a small shrug of his shoulders. It took him a minute to gather his thoughts. Biting at his bottom lip, he made it obvious that he was really having a hard time putting words together to make her understand. “My whole life, I’ve never had things go right, ever. I’m afraid that one day I’m going to wake up and this is all going to be a dream or something bad is going to happen to Brayden.”

“Oh honey, you can’t think like that,” she tried to hush him and Joel tilted his head to the side, his eyes tearing over as he thought about everything that had happened in his life.

“You don’t understand. Since I’ve been a teenager things have just been going wrong. You know I had Sarah as a teenager. I was a stupid kid that wasn’t thinking things out. Ya know? At the time, I knew I had to get my shit together and give the best life I could to my baby girl. Then her mother took off on me and ran away. I tried giving her the best possible life I could, but…” Joel found himself getting caught up in his emotions when he thought about his late daughter.

“You did the best with what you had,” she insisted knowing that she had many discussions with Tommy about Joel's past with his daughter. Even Ellie had opened up to her about what she knew when it came to Joel’s daughter that he had lost so long ago. Her eyes fell to the broken watch that he still wore on his wrist and it broke her heart to know that these thoughts were wearing heavy on Joel.

“But I still lost her. No matter how hard I fought for her, it wasn’t good enough,” Joel countered and a single tear slid down the side of his face. Trying to attempt to open up to her why he was feeling this way was hard because even he knew that he was complicated. “Then for the next twenty years it was just nothing, but shit. I would try, but something was always happening. It wasn’t until I got here in Jackson and I met you that it felt like for once something was going right. I wondered if I had died back in Colorado because you…you were too good to be true.”

Damn, that hit her deep. Instead of saying anything, she reached out to slide her hand in over his arm giving him a supportive grasp.

“I was a broken mess and I was pretty much an adoptive father. I figured I would come to the town; give Ellie a life here and then that would be it. I accepted that life. Then the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on suddenly has eyes for me,” Joel chuckled thinking back to when he had first arrived in Jackson. It was a few months before the two of them really had a good conversation, but their chemistry was almost immediate. “I couldn’t believe my lucky stars that someone like you was interested in someone like me.”

“You know, you were the one that asked me out first,” she teased him, poking him playfully in the ribs and he laughed. Almost immediately, he looked to make sure that their playful teasing didn’t wake Brayden up. Adjusting their son in his arms, Joel looked to her again and shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, but you made it very clear that you liked me. I just had no game. So, I didn’t know if I was stupid or not. So when I asked you out I was actually feeling like a total moron on the inside because I figured you might say no and I was wrong the whole time. From the moment you said yes, I knew that you were the one,” Joel stammered, a hint of a smile pressing in over his handsome features when he thought back to her past with him. “They say when you know, you know. Well that’s what it was like with me. The moment I made you laugh and smile, I knew that you were the one that I was meant to be with. It was like a horse’s back kick, it hit me that hard.”

“Leave it to you to come up with that kind of comparison,” she winked watching his nose wrinkling in amusement.

“I just meant I knew you were everything I wanted and more. I didn’t understand why someone like you would wanna be with a fool like me,” Joel recalled his thoughts from the past and his eyes surveyed over the ring he had been able to find when they went scavenging through a nearby city. They were just lucky that they knew someone who could make him a wedding band in the town. Getting married was a surprise. One that Joel never thought he would experience again. With his past, he closed his heart off from ever getting that close to someone again. But then everything changed when he met Y/N. “Then you said yes to marrying me and everything felt right. I had you…I had Ellie…and then this beautiful boy comes into our lives. God, I almost reckon my heart stopped on the spot when you told me that you were pregnant.”

“Tommy told me he thinks you passed out,” she informed him with a tiny laugh knowing that she had told Joel when Tommy was in their home. It kind of just fell out of her lips when she couldn’t get Joel to focus at the time. He was always so busy with everything that it was hard to make him think only about one thing. “He always teases that he had to catch you.”

“Well, I think you just almost knocked me right outta my boots,” Joel snickered, acknowledging that it did shock him. “I just never thought that it would be possible for me to have something like this. Happiness. Every night I sit here and wonder how I got so lucky to have you here in my life. The both of you. Ellie too. I worry that I don’t deserve you or any of you.”

“Joel,” she whispered, lifting up enough to palm in over the side of his face to get him to look at her. Leading him to her, she pressed a tender kiss over his lips taking her time to appreciate the chills it would give her every time she kissed the man of her dreams. “We’re lucky to have you. I can’t think of someone else I would rather share this life with. You…you’ve made me believe in second chances. You’ve made me believe in something more.”

“I just have lost anyone I have ever cared for,” Joel confessed, his eyes tearing over as he spoke and he found it hard to look at her when he admitted that. “Everyone I have ever cared for has gotten hurt or left me. That’s why I’m in here every night. I’m just so afraid…”

“And you have every right to feel the way you do. Life has been so hard, but I can tell you this. Since you walked into my life…you were the only thing that has ever felt right. You brought Ellie into my life and that kid is a pleasure to be around. Then you gave me Brayden and between the three of you I know what happiness truly is,” she explained with a quiet breath knowing that she was getting emotional as well with everything he was telling her. “I think our small little family here is going to do everything we can to take care of each other. We’ll do whatever it takes, just like we always have. I just know that every day I wake up thanking the world that I have you here in it with me.”

“I love you, so much,” Joel blurt out, his hazel eyes exceedingly serious when he nodded. “I just want to be the best father and husband that I can be. I want to give you the closest thing to a real life that I can. I want all of you happy.”

“We are happy. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but the only time that little man is happy is when he is in your arms. He knows who is daddy is and he loves you…so much,” she promised, getting up from where she was kneeling so she could lean over to press a kiss against his temple. “If you’re worried, after tonight we should move his crib into our room until he’s old enough to be alone. That way you can feel safer knowing he is with us.”

“You’d be okay with that?” Joel asked for confirmation and she nodded slowly. Of course she was okay with that. Nothing about that would bother her. Carefully, Joel pulled himself up from the rocking chair and moved over to put Brayden back in his crib. Standing at the edge of the crib, his large fingers wrapped around the sides of it while he watched his son sleep. “I worry about things because when I was a father last time, I was young. Now I’m fucking old.”

“Joel,” she laughed, moving in behind him to wrap her arms around his muscular body. Taking advantage, she managed to press a kiss over his shoulder since he was slouched down enough for her to do so.

“I’m serious,” Joel chuckled while her right hand caressed over his the center of his bare torso, teasing her fingers through the dark hairs that covered his body.  When she traced over the puckered flesh where his scar was, it made him look down at her fingers. After keeping Ellie safe and being able to have this family, all the scars on his body almost felt worth it. All that pain he went through was worth it to have the family that he now had. “I’m an old fart.”

“You are the only person I know that has the amount of energy that you do. I’m pretty sure you could outrun a lot of the kids in town here Joel. I don’t know how you do everything that you do, but your age is not a factor that I’m worried about,” she assured him, sliding in beside him and he loosely wrapped his arm around her shoulders while they stared down at their son. “Plus, I already know you’re an amazing father. That’s one thing I will never doubt.”

“I hope so,” Joel sighed pulling her in closer to him while they watched their son sleep. “I can make him another crib. I’ll go down to the basement so we’ll have two. I was carving him one of my horses, but I suppose I can stop to give us something more useful.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she knew that Joel’s workshop got moved to the basement as soon as they had their son together. This room was full of wooden sculptures before and half made acoustic guitars, but now it was their son’s bedroom. Still, some of Joel’s sculptures he had done helped lighten the room for their little boy. “Are you ready to get some sleep?”

“Just a little bit longer,” Joel sighed wanting to be with his son for a few more moments before they would go back to bed. Wrapping both of his arms around her, Joel squeezed her tight to him and kept her in his arms firmly. “You are the first person who has made feel like I’m not alone in a very long time Y/N. I hope you know that. You gave me the greatest gift of all time and that was a second chance at life. I love you and I always will.”

[inkykeiji]

at least i have the memory

character: takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut with the teeniest, tiniest hint of angst

notes: for @babyybitchhh​ & inspired by a dm they sent me at exactly 3:58 am <333. uhhhh is this set in the i can take you there universe??? quite possibly. do u need to read that monster before reading this??? absolutely not!!! this also isn’t the scumbag!keigo i’ve been working on ehehe i just kindaaaa banged this out last night in a bit of a frenzy, so!! why is it always keigo + touya at a house party lately????? | title credit: thinking bout you by ariana grande lmaoooo

warnings: 18+, noncon, drugging, implied stepcest

words: 3.3k

synopsis:

“Here, let me,” he’s saying as he takes you from Touya, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and supporting most of your weight as you lean against him heavily. “Go,” he nods in the general direction of the voice still hollering for your niichan. “Duty calls,” he pauses, and the two men share a look before Keigo laughs easily. “Don’t worry, I’ll put her to bed,”

You’re snuggled up on Touya’s lap when things begin to feel off. He’s throwing another one of those stupid parties, with too many people you don’t know crowding the main floor of your house, one of those dumb parties that you’re never allowed to invite any of your friends to, where you’re forced to share your niichan for the night with all of these dumb people.

“Dumb,” you whisper, mumbling the word against your step-brother’s neck.

He hums a little, breath hot on your cheek. “What was that, princess?”

Your head rolls from one side of your neck, and then the other, then back again, a weak imitation of shaking your head. A soft, nondescript noise sounds from the back of his throat and you try to raise your head, to look him in the eye, struggling with the simple motion.

Because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to keep your head up anymore, whining a little as it falls forward again, forehead resting against Touya’s shoulder. It’s just so heavy; your neck can barely bear the weight any longer, and with a tremendous amount of effort you’re able to loll it back—too far back—or to the side, yet ultimately incapable of holding it up, of holding it straight and steady.

“Oh, I think the princess is sleepy,” Keigo’s singsong voice floats through the air, tickling your ear and making you wriggle. Touya chuckles, sitting up a little straighter as large hands readjust you in his lap.

“Is it bedtime, baby?”

“No,” you mumble, though you’re fairly sure the word just comes out as a petulant sound.

“I think it is,” Touya continues, ignoring your little noises and standing, letting you drop down his body and placing you on the floor gently. You sway a little, vision fading in and out of focus, and try to shake your head again, the motion sluggish and delayed.

Someone calls Touya’s name and he swears softly under his breath, looking towards the voice and then back at you. Trying to blink up at him, your eyelids simply fall shut, your brow furrowing cutely as you work hard to force them back open.

Something isn’t right.

“Goddamn it,” Touya sighs, oblivious to your struggle and raking a hand through his hair. “Princess, hey, look at me,”

I’m trying to, you want to snap at him, frustration bubbling up in your chest as you finally pry your eyes open again, wincing against the bright light of the living room.

Touya starts saying something, but you can’t focus on it, can barely understand him, his voice sounding muffled and distant as you concentrate on purely keeping your eyes open.

No, something definitely isn’t right, but your hazy brain can’t seem to figure out what it is, barely able to form a fucking sentence now, any word you try to speak coming out garbled and near unintelligible.

Keigo’s reaching for you, and you make grabby hands at him, suddenly craving his heat, an abrupt, insatiable need to be close to him blazing through your veins.

“Here, let me,” he’s saying as he takes you from Touya, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and supporting most of your weight as you lean against him heavily. “Go,” he nods in the general direction of the voice still hollering for your niichan. “Duty calls,” he pauses, and the two men share a look before Keigo laughs easily. “Don’t worry, I’ll put her to bed,”

Cobalt eyes dart between the two of you, sharp and analytical. You’re nuzzling your face into Keigo’s chest—God, he smells so good—and he’s chuckling a little, thumb rubbing little circles into your hip. Touya makes a soft noise; a coo, you think, though you can’t be bothered to look, too enticed with Keigo to expend the immense amount of energy it takes for you to move any part of your body.

“You sure?”

“Yeah man, it’s no big deal. I’ll tuck her in and stay with her until she passes out—I know the way she gets,”

And as if on fucking cue, you whimper, little fingers tangling in his t-shirt as you pull, trying to get closer. Christ, Keigo could kiss you right here and now for unwittingly playing your part so goddamn well, for fortifying—validating—his plan that much more.

“Poor thing,” he looks down at you, trying to force the shit-eating grin off his face. “She’s exhausted, can barely even stand—Really, I should get her to bed,”

Touya’s teeth nibble at the inner skin of his lip, cerulean eyes studying your face carefully, half hidden in Keigo’s chest, before he finally sighs, shoulders deflating a little.

“Yeah, alright. Thanks, Kei,”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds lightly, waving a hand dismissively. He glances back down at you, golden eyes glittering, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright kitty kat, let’s get you to sleep,”

M’not tired, you try to tell him as he scoops you up into his arms, but your tongue feels like a slug in your mouth, heavy and wet and slimy and not doing what you want. Keigo chuckles a little at you, tells you you’re cute, especially when you’re like this, and you want to question him, try to question him, but you tongue barely even moves, only wiggling a little in response.

Something soft, something almost cloudlike is placed under you—no, that’s not right, you’re being placed on something feathery, something fluffy, little hands smoothing down the material as your head falls to the side, rubbing your cheek against it.

“You always get a little catlike when you’re like this, didya know that?”

Keigo’s standing over you now, face partially shrouded as he stares down at you, eyes a pair of shimmering topaz in the darkness. Your forehead crinkles a little, lids falling a bit in a poor attempt to narrow your eyes.

Like what?

The question is fleeting, merely floating through your mind for a moment before you’re captivated by the calloused hands sliding up your bare thighs, legs falling open automatically as you whine a little at the sensation.

More.

The word drifts through your mind slowly, languidly, and you swear you can see it in the air, swirling around Keigo’s head, wavering and wiggling a little. A soft giggle slips from your lips, eyes squinting as you watch the fading word, head foggy and feeling like it’s been stuffed with static. But you’re unable to grasp it; it slips away too easily, just passing by, really, just out of your reach—

“What’s so funny, pretty girl?” Keigo’s asking, a smile on his lips, revealing white teeth that gleam in the pale moonlight spilling through your window, sending shivers skittering across your skin.

It doesn’t sound like he expects an answer, not that you’re in any state of mind to give one either way. His hands have pushed your dress up around your waist now, revealing your panties to him as he kneads your hips mindlessly, fingertips running across your tummy, exploring the supple flesh.

“Just gonna make you a little more comfy, kay? Take this pesky dress off,”

He doesn’t wait for any sort of response as gentle hands curl around the hem, tugging the dress further up your body, a tender palm helping you lift your head a little as he removes the garment completely.

It’s cold, and you whine a little about it as you shiver, wanting to wrap your arms around your torso, but they’re too heavy for you to lift by yourself, whimpering up at Keigo who glares down at you with a sharp smile, mockingly cooing at you.

Honey eyes scan your body once, completely, from head to toe, and he sucks in a sharp gasp through his teeth as his eyes roam.

It’s risky—he knows he should probably fuck you with your dress on, or at least one of those cute, expensive nightgowns Touya always spoils you with, or something—but the adrenaline buzzing through his veins only heightens his senses, makes him feel giddy with the thought of Touya catching him defiling his precious baby sister.

The bed dips as he perches on the edge, palms running over your smooth skin, chills forming in their wake. He snorts to himself, skilled fingers tweaking a peaked nipple, the action causing your nearly shut eyes to open again.

“K-Kei?”

“Yeah, it’s me, baby,” he murmurs.

“You stay?”

“Just for a little,” he promises, eyes glinting in the low light of your bedroom. His gaze glides down your bare chest and to the waistband of your panties; cotton, pink—not that he expected any less—trimmed with lace and adorned with a pattern of blooming roses.

“Aw, these are so cute,” he breathes, a smirk spreading across his lips, his thumb caressing your clit through the thin material.

A little whine escapes your lips, body instinctually arching off the bed, hips involuntarily pushing towards his hand, desperately seeking more.

“Wh-What—You…” you trail off, blinking your heavy eyelids, trying in vain to force them to stay open.

“Just wanna make you feel good, sweetheart,”

And his voice is so low, so soft, makes you want to do anything for him, makes you sure you would do anything for him, anything to get him to continue talking to you in that hypnotic, melodic voice. Eyes finally slipping shut, you give in, and his fingers circling around your swollen clit and playing along your clothed slit feel so good, sending tingling warmth shooting through your veins, a smoldering desire for more encompassing your body.

But then sapphire sears through your mind—burning, blazing, glowing sapphire—and your heavy lids lift again, just enough to make out Keigo’s silhouette.

“Niichan?”

“Shh,” he hushes you as his fingers push the fabric aside, the pads of his fingers swiping along your slit and collecting your wetness, pussy fluttering around nothing eagerly. “Don’t worry about niichan, he’s busy. You want me to make you feel good, don’t you?”

Your head is nodding—slow, jerky movements up and down, up and down—even though you never told it to do that, and you stare up at him with glazed eyes, pupils blown to hell, breathing escaping your parted lips in shallow little puffs.

God, what he’d fucking give for a photo of you like this, quietly berating himself for leaving his phone on the couch downstairs. He’s barely touched you yet and you already look so fucked out, gazing up at him with bliss, adoration, like he hung the moon and painted the stars himself.

Something prods at your hole—a finger, you think, maybe two—and pushes in slowly, Keigo’s dark eyes glued to his actions, huffing out a curse when he reaches the second knuckle.

“Christ, baby, you’re already so fuckin’ wet,” his eyes flick over to your face, taunting smile gracing his lips again. “Were you thinking about this, hmm?” the fingers curl almost vengefully, and you mewl, hips rolling up. “Are you really such a good little slut, like Touya always says you are?”

Humming an affirmative, you whimper out his name, burying your face in the mattress as you pathetically try to fuck yourself on his fingers, grinding against his palm in an almost frantic manner.

He wishes he could take his time with you, wishes he could tease your cute little hole until you’re positively sobbing, cheeks shining with tears and sweat, begging him to just let you cum—you’d look so pretty, he just knows it.

But he doesn’t have the time to daydream—he’s already wasted a bunch of time just staring at you, entranced by the way your lips have been bitten swollen, little tongue peeking out as his fingers curve inside of you, pulling the most adorable moans from deep within your throat, strings of drool dribbling from your mouth, pooling in a small puddle and soaking your bedsheets.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, compliment slipping from his lips seemingly without his knowledge, most of his focus captivated by the way he’s rapidly pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, his digits gleaming with your slick.

His voice is off, you think. It doesn’t usually sound that soft, that hoarse, does it? Fingers curling scatter your thoughts and your back arches, little pleads falling from your lips. You’re not exactly sure what you’re saying, babbling out a steady stream of words that just sound like smothered nonsense to your ears, but Keigo seems to understand, laughing and nodding.

“You don’t wanna cum on my fingers, songbird?”

No, God no, s’not enough, want more, need more, please, please, more, more, more.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you,” he huffs, but he’s got that smile on, the genuine, easygoing smile, lazy and effortless and so perfect slapped across his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just a little, revealing glossy, sharp white teeth—a more sincere version of the smile you know has broken so many hearts in the past.

Hips are between your thighs now, and you can feel the head of his cock nudging against your hole as large hands force your legs to bend, folding them up on either side of your torso and instructing you to be a good girl, hold yourself open for him.

He didn’t prep you enough—doesn’t technically have the time to, not the way he’d like to, at least, though he’s not sure your greed would’ve let him either way—so it burns a little as your cunt struggles to accommodate his girth, tiny whines escaping your lips.

You’re doing so good, baby, take my cock so well—

The words swirl around in your head, dense and echoing through the space around you, a little pout forming on your lips as you try to place the voice—voices—saying them.

It’s praise you’ve heard before, so many times before, in situations exactly like this one, and your foggy mind has a difficult time telling whether it’s niichan saying them or Keigo. It sounds like both, but…

No, niichan isn’t here. He’s busy, like Kei said.

But the praise, the voices, murmured in the same soft, adoring lilt, makes your stomach churn painfully, something akin to guilt, dark and sour and heavy, taking root deep in the pit of your belly and spreading quickly, beginning to infect the surrounding organs.

The bottoming out of his cock shatters your focus, snuffs out that guilt in an instant, burning it to ash in the fire it ignites, now blazing in your tummy and spreading, higher and higher and higher with each snap of his hips until it rushes through your veins, alighting your entire body as you writhe beneath him, his thrusts working up a steady rhythm.

“One day, I’ll get to fuck you properly,” he grunts, ramming into you hard and fast. “One day, I’ll spend hours eating that sweet lil cunt of yours, one—fuck—one day, I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk,” he’s panting now, getting chatty the way he usually does when he’s close, a truth you’re sure of, even though you’re unable to discern how. “You want that, baby? Huh?”

And the whine you emit, high and needy and broken up by his harsh thrusts, is much too loud; he’s positive anyone standing down the hall—maybe even anyone on the top floor of the house in general—would be able to hear you, a fact that only works to inspire him to fuck more of them out of you as his hips gain speed.

It’s stupid—he knows it’s stupid, it’s reckless, it’s dangerous for the both of you—but he can’t stop, lost all control of his body, his actions, his entire fucking mind, as he pounds you hard enough to shove your whole body up the mattress, basking in the beautiful cries he rips from your throat, mingled with your pitiful attempts at pronouncing his name, coming out in airy little K-Kei’s.  

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, tearing through your convulsing body and splitting it in two as your nails dig into the flesh of your shins, fluttering little hole forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth.

He’s praising you, you think, though you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, your mind gone absolutely numb—everything’s numb, body heavy and boneless as sore fingers unclench from your legs, head hazy and vision fuzzy around the edges.

Your throat feels raw and dry, and you wish you could do something to silence the rough whimpers he’s quite literally fucking out of you, powerless to stop them from leaking out of your lips as your vision whites from excessive pleasure; so much, too much, it hurts, Kei!

But he isn’t paying attention as he grunts in time with his borderline vicious thrusts, breathing rough and erratic as his hands fist in your soft bedsheets—never gripping your hips, always careful not to leave any marks, any evidence of his presence—emitting a low, throaty moan that breaks off into a whine as his hips stutter and then still, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix as his cock pulses, spurting ropes of thick, hot cum and stuffing you full.

He’s panting as he leans down to crush his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, breath hot against your face. You use all of your strength to meet him, mouths slotting together messily, coating your lips in sticky saliva.

He tastes like sunshine—pure sunshine, you’re absolutely sure of it—syrupy sweet like toffee and fiery like spicy cinnamon.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes out a small chuckle, shaking his head a little as he sits back on his heels, gentle fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your limp legs. “And what, exactly, does sunshine taste like, songbird?”

“You,”

“God,” he snorts, rolling his eyes while he uses your panties to tenderly wipe away his cum oozing out of you. “Even high and fucked outta your mind, you still manage to be so goddamn cute—it’s a gift, sweetheart, a talent, it truly is,”

Soft giggles bubble past your lips, a few mumbled words sandwiched between them as he finishes buttoning up his jeans, stuffing your soiled panties in his back pocket. Keigo’s fairly sure you’re talking about how tired you are—you always get giggly like this after he fucks the life out of you—so he hushes you gently, nimble fingers carding through sweaty hair as he pushes it back from your face.

“Rest now, angel,”

“Want you to stay,” you pout, and he frowns for the first time tonight, molars grinding together as he exhales a deep, controlled breath through flared nostrils.

He fucking hates it when you do this, when you ask—sometimes beg—him to stay the night, and he swallows thickly, shaking his head and ignoring the pang that sears through his chest, a feeling he’s come to know intimately.

“You know I can’t,”

“Don’t care, wan’you to,”

“I can’t,” he snaps, and his harsh voice feels like a slap to the face, stinging your flushed cheek. Your nose twitches, bottom lip jutting out as your chin begins to tremble, and he sighs, pushing both hands through his hair. “I can’t,” he repeats, much softer this time, fingertips tracing the lines of your face in a tender caress. “I…Want to. You know I do,”

The confession spills from his lips in hushed whispers, entirely without his consent, and he’s not even sure you heard it.

“Soon? Soon, then?”

And you sound so small, so fragile, it nearly breaks his fucking heart. He doesn’t have it in him to tell you no, not when you’re gazing up at him like that, hope and desperation overflowing in your shining eyes.

You won’t remember a thing come morning, anyway.

“Yeah, songbird, soon,”

“Promise?”

Choking back the acidic bile rising in his throat and eroding the back of his tongue, he nods.

“Promise.”

[veryblushyswitch]

KiriBaku ~ (tickle hcs)

*Both Kirishima and Bakugou are really ticklish but Bakugou is just a little more ticklish and Kirishima loves to brag about it.

*This of course leads to Bakugou tickling Kirishima until he says sorry or that he’s more ticklish.

*Kirishima can say the word tickle, but it flusters him when he’s getting tickled and Bakugou says it really fast over and over or really slowly.

*Kirishima loves behind hugs. The type of hug where you hug someone from behind them. Whether he’s giving or receiving them, they’re his favorite kind.

*Bakugou looooooves cuddling. He also loves looking up cuddling positions and making Kirishima try them out to see which is the comfiest.

*Kirishima gives Bakugou massages, but Bakugou’s shoulder blades are too ticklish for him to stay still.

*Kirishima loves to grab Bakugou’s cheeks and kiss him all around his face.

*Bakugou loves kissing Kirishima’s neck because it’s a more intimate place and it also makes Kirishima laugh because he’s ticklish there.

*Kirishima’s most ticklish spot is his armpits, so Bakugou takes any opportunity he can to pin Kirishima’s arms above his head or out by his sides to destroy him with tickles.

*I think it’s all agreed that Bakugou’s tickle spot is right in between his uppermost ribs and his armpits.

*Kirishima loves sneaking up behind him and digging his fingers into that spot to get Bakugou cackling.

*Inspired by @rachi-roo-bnha: Kirishima has these little squishy bits around his lower tummy and hips that Bakugou loves to pinch and vibrate his fingers into.

*These spots get Kirishima screaming and begging because it’s so ticklish.

*Sometimes he gets reall self conscious about those little bits. This triggers Bakugou’s ler/postive affirmation side, causing Bakugou to pin Kirishima down and go to town on his ticklish pudgy bits. All the while telling Kirishima how manly he is and that these parts don’t make him any less manly.

*I feel like Kirishima has ticklish palms and Bakugou has ticklish calves. Both spots get teased by the other for being an unusual tickle spot.

*Just like how Kirishima has a ticklish neck Bakugou likes to take advantage of, Bakugou has ticklish ears. Especially behind them. Kirishima will lay himself on Bakugou’s back to kiss and blow raspberries behind his ears.

*Bakugou’s doesn’t laugh with this tickle spot though. Instead, he lets out these adorable high pitched giggles and squeals.

*Tickle hugs. Period. Every day. All the time.

*Bakugou likes to do the egg crack thing on Kirishima’s knees while telling him not to move. It drives Kirishima insane, but he never backs down from a challenge. He ends up covering his face and failing after Bakugou starts doing them rapidly.

*Kirishima will sometimes snort when he laughs really hard.

*There was a moment when Kirishima snorted in front of Bakugou for the first time, and Bakugou laughed his ass off because he thought it was the cutest thing ever. Kirishima took it as Bakugou laughing at him and ended up crying. Bakugou immediately stopped and asked what was wrong. After a short talk, Bakugou hugged Kirishima and assured him his snorts are the farthest thing from ugly and are in fact one of the most adorable sounds he’s ever made. Kirishima cried again but of joy for being so grateful to have Bakugou in his life.

*Kirishima loves to buy clothes for Bakugou because Bakugou never goes shopping.

*Kirishima steals Bakugou’s hoodies and Bakugou steals Kirishima’s shirts.

*Bakugou secretly loves when Kirishima wears his clothes. It makes him feel loved even when he’s not around him.

*Kirishima and Bakugou go on beach dates when they need to get out of the dorms.

*Bakugou likes to bury Kirishima in the sand and tickle his feet.

*Bakugou is such a sucker for romance movie cliches, so he’ll make Kirishima walk along the shore with him while they talk. Not that Kirishima would ever say no.

*Kirishima likes to lay on Bakugou with his head on his stomach so he can nuzzle his face into his tummy. Bakugou tries not to laugh which leads to Kirishima kneading his fingers into Bakugou’s ribs.

*Bakugou will retaliate by wrapping his arms around Kirishima, pinning him to his chest, and digging his fingers into his sides or hips.

*Kirishima convinces Bakugou to let him give Bakugou a foot massage. He’s tried in the past but he never let him do it because Bakugou is actually really ticklish there and knew he’d never live it down.

*Kirishima, being Kirishima, takes the opportunity to get back at him for all those beach date tickles.

*Blanket burritos! 👏

*Movie nights include: Popcorn throwing, cuddling, ticklish pokes, and butterfly kisses.

*Speaking of butterfly kisses, Kirishima gives these to Bakugou when he’s feeling extra lovey dovey and it flusters Bakugou so much.

[dreamerhideout]

rocketeer

summary: late night conversations with your boyfriend, choi jiung, are best held on the eve of an upcoming exam

genre: fluff, university!au

characters: jiung x reader

word count: 728

warnings: asides being minimally proofread, none

a/n: i really haven’t written for p1harmony in a while, so i present to you some fluff i wrote loosely inspired by this song (mmm yes, my entire childhood). enjoy ~

more under the cut!

“do you think aliens exist?”

you laid down on your back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly. at this point, you’d do just about anything to not think of the exam tomorrow, and that included spewing out the most ridiculous conversation starters at your boyfriend. jiung sat near his desk, rewriting his notes as he occasionally responded to your chatter.

“possibly. i mean, there’s still so much we don’t know as humans. and i don’t think we’ve fully utilized space travel yet.” not glancing at you, he flipped to a new page on his notebook.

“would you want to go explore space if you could, though?” you turned over and were now on your stomach. propping an elbow up, you rested your head on your palm as you stared at your boyfriend expectantly. it amazed you how he had such a strong work ethic; he was the one making sure you weren’t behind on your studies even though you were in different majors. he was also relatively popular on campus, so it baffled you when he asked you, a girl two years his junior, to be his girlfriend seemingly out of the blue.

“if i had the time and money? sure thing.” jiung closed his notebook and yawned, glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table. it flickered, the screen displaying 1:12 AM. he switched off his desk light and walked over to the bed. he then sat on the edge, turning to place his hands near both of your sides so that his figure was looming over you, “are you done studying yet?”

“i... i guess?” you fiddled at the mess of papers on the bed, “at this rate, i don’t think i can memorize another passage.”

“that’s okay. you should get some rest and continue studying tomorrow. your exam’s at noon, right?” he gathered your papers and placed them on the floor beside the bed. your heart softened at the gesture; jiung had always been a thoughtful boyfriend, and the little things he’d do for you were enough to make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“mhm,” you mused as you yawned as well. turning to him, you spoke, “thanks for letting me crash here, jiung. i don’t think i’d be able to sleep knowing what’s happening tomorrow.”

he laid beside you and gave you a small smile, “anything for you, (y/n). i’ve been missing your company, anyway.”

you snuggled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his torso as your legs intertwined with his. he slid his arm over your shoulder and brought you close, a blissful smile on his lips. both of you basked in the tranquility of the night, with the only sound heard being the low buzz of the ac.

“jiung?”

“hm?”

you peered up to look at him. the lights in his room were now dimmed, but the glow of the moon illuminated his features almost perfectly. “you’ve once said that you wanted to travel, right?”

“yeah, why?”

“where would you wanna go?”

there was a pause when he stared at the ceiling, expression deep in thought. “lots of places, honestly. maybe somewhere like switzerland or japan? i’d like to go hiking there, exploring the alps or mount fuji sounds like fun.”

“jiung, you know how i’m horrible at physical activity, right?” you whined, knowing very well how bad you were at stamina evaluations back when you went to school .

“who says that you’ll be coming with me?”

“hey!” you pouted and raised a hand to tickle at his side.

“i’m joking, i’m joking.” he laughed and slightly coiled back, accepting defeat. “those are only some of the places i’d want to go to, though. i’d want to travel the entire world if i could. and possibly space too.”

you settled down and hummed a sign of understanding before tracing patterns on his chest. you could hear the steady heartbeat that has never failed to calm you down, to reassure you that you’ll always have someone to lean on. “once you get rich enough to travel the world and space... and i say once because i know you’ll be able to get there... will you take me with you?”

without missing a beat, jiung planted a kiss on the crown of your head. “of course, my love,” he whispered with the hint of a smile, “wherever i’ll go.”