#Why you all like my self indulgent shit Idk

[monstergoblin]

Anything i should add or take away from this piece. i got the pose from a painting of Anne Bonny actually.

Oh I love it! I think the best part of writing a fic is seeing everyongs ideas on how the characters dress/look! Also mama Eda protecting her lil baby <3 As I've said before I 100% love seeing peoples takes on it! I saw your post too (to answer the question it wont be historically accurate Im a dumb bitch who don't know history too well) but I love to see the take on it being that way!! Historically accurate pirates are just as amazing and fantasy pirates (I love pirate aus.. whod have guessed) It looks amazing!! Make sure to tag me again when it finishes so I can see it!!! I love seeing the art thats inspired by my stupid lil fic <3 <3 <3 EDIT: I was so in love with the art i didnt even answer the ask woops. I think the piece is amazing as it is! I don't know alot bout historical pirates (I read fantasy stuff) But now you got me looking up Anne Bonny so I'm sure that wont be a hyperfixtion.....

[squuote]

man not to be that guy but like. if I gotta see or hear someone say the fandom is bad one more time I might just kill someone. and then kill someone again. just make an analysis post or idk do something fun and fucking shut uuup ohmy god

[arcane-vagabond]

me looking at my own blog: god i wish this bitch would stfu

[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

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City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

[blue-jisungs]

making up with them after a fight ♡

author's note. minho’s one is so relatable to me i hate it sm :(( like idk sometimes i don’t wanna be touched but i have struggles wording it out and im afraid ill hurt someone w my reaction… <\\3 sigh… yeah, can u tell it’s self indulgent?

warnings. yn falls asleep in a bathtub,, pls dont do that!!!, cursing, lmk if i missed anything

this is a continuation to fighting with them!!

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

you woke up in your and chris’ bed, which made your stomach turn. he must have brought you here.

suddenly sitting up, you noticed your boyfriend is absent. did he leave…?

jumping out of the bed you rushed to living room and were relieved to see him in the kitchen.

however, guilt washed over you upon seeing him so… lifeless, hurt.

“hi” you whispered, clutching your shirt. chan looked at you and smiled softly, nodding his head.

“morning. there’s some coffee for you, breakfast will be done in a few minutes” he hummed and returned his gaze to the pan.

“chan, listen… i’m sorry i snapped at you yesterday. yes, i was tired but…” you hesitated, voice cracking “that’s not an excuse, really”

“i’m just worried, y/n” he said and his features softened.

“i know, i know” you hung your head low, afraid that tears will escape any second “it’s just… work has been shit lately and it’s draining me emotionally and physically… and i just…”

“hey, hey. it’s okay. i understand it. that’s why i’m here, right? to help you. but to help you, i need to know first” chan walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you. this warm, secure hug made you feel at ease “but i won’t be able to know if we don’t talk”

“i know… i’m so, so sorry. for snapping and for acting like an asshole… i’m sorry channie” you cried, pouring your heart out.

“i forgive you, y/n. i already did. let’s just treat this as a lesson, okay?” chan soothed you gently “let it out, baby. i’m here”

┆彡 MINHO [ 민호 ]

you and minho became distant. you began touching and kissing him less, head overflowing with worries each time when physical contact involved. eventually, you stopped. you just greeted him in the morning or after work.

and minho hated this.

he knew it was his fault because he snapped you. and if he didn’t do anything about it, your relationship might be on a thread... if it wasn't already.

so one day, when you woke up… you felt a soft kiss being pressed to your arm. you smiled gently to yourself, trying to remain calm. what is he scheming…?

"y/nnie… i’m sorry"

you turned around, frowning. lino’s eyes softened but there was a glint of sadness in them.

"i snapped at you when i had a bad day already. and… it was one of those days when i just don’t want to be touched, even by you. it- it sounds so idiotic but i promise you, it’s not your fault…" minho started and you bit your lip. your hands ached to cup his face and– "i can see you’re thinking about it. it’s fine, i’m fine. no, actually i’m not. i missed your touch and kisses so so much. and i feel like an idiot because i’ve brought it on me but above all…”

he hesitated and tapped your finger. you nodded, granting him permission to hold you. in an instant, he shuffled closer and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"i’m sorry i made you feel like that. i can’t even imagine how you must have felt, thinking if ill snap at you today too… im so… fucking… sorry… " minho’s voice broke off and you felt his body shiver.

"it’s okay, min. i forgive you, don’t feel guilty. just tell me next time, okay? i understand that on some days you’re feeling like you don’t want to be touched, i respect that" you hummed into his skin, drawing shapes "just tell me"

"i will" minho smiled softly, heart warming because of your words, kindness, and touch.

┆彡 CHANGBIN [ 창빈 ]

with a shaking hand you dialed changbin’s number, looking at the droplets falling in front of you. he picked up instantly.

"hello, baby?" he asked, concern in his voice. you took a deep breath, trying to control your breaking voice slightly at least.

"you… um, you were right…" you mumbled, sniffling.

silence fell and you were expecting an 'i told you so' or 'see?' but none of that happened.

"i’m sorry, pretty. i swear, next time i see them somewhere i’ll talk to them. i’ll pick you up, hm?" changbin asked and even though you knew he didn’t see, you nodded. your heart felt light that you didn’t fight again.

"i… um, i’m sorry. for being so defensive about them but… i was in the wrong…" a soft sigh left your lips and you heard a loud 'yah!' causing you to move your phone away for a bit.

"don’t apologize. i’m the one who should say sorry, truly. i just didn’t want you to get hurt again but… i took it to far, i said some messed up shit. sorry" chanbin’s voice was gentle and then suddenly you heard a honk. eyes widening, you saw his car "also i may or may not have already been waiting here…"

"dumbass” you scoffed, wiping your tears and going to his car with a smile.

┆彡 HYUNJIN [ 현진 ]

hyunjin entered the house, frowning upon the silence. your shoes were on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, some miscellaneous items scattered around the living room.

"y/n?" he called out. no answer.

you weren’t in the bedroom either. hyunjin, growing anxious, opened the bathroom door.

he saw you sleeping in the tub, head almost barely above the water.

"yah, dumbass!" he yelped and dragged you a bit up, safe enough but still in the water. your eyes opened lazily, gaze unfocused.

"huh?" you blinked at him and saw genuine worry on his face.

"you fell asleep in the tub, y/n. i got so scared" he sighed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. he noticed your eye bags and it hit him like a truck: sure, dancing is his profession and he gets tired. but you, as a cleaning lady move as much as him and have to deal with other - usually assholes - people. you must be exhausted, even more than him.

then his gaze shifted to various scratches and bruises on your arms. you noticed it and smiled softly.

"it’s nothing, you know how clumsy i am. today i knocked over a broom and it hit my arm… it was kinda funny actually" you grinned but only saw sadness behind his eyes "hyune?"

"i… the thing i said the other day… i don’t mean it. i don’t think you’re just a cleaning lady, i shouldn’t say anything like this. and, it’s a bit stupid, but i realized just now… that at the end of the day, you’re probably as tired as me" he mumbled, voice small. you nodded, grabbing his hand.

"i won’t lie, what you said hurt me. but… i get it, you were tired and i got on your nerves–" you started.

"but i shouldn’t have bursted like that. let me take care of you now, hm? do you want me to wash your hair?" hyunjin asked, a cute smile finally blooming on his lips. you nodded energetically, causing him to giggle and place a tender kiss atop your head before proceeding to wash your hair.

┆彡 JISUNG [ 지성 ]

when he left the party, glad to finally be out… someone grabbed his arm. he turned around and saw beomgyu.

"what?" jisung grunted, looking at the stranger.

"dude, i don’t know what’s your problem but me and y/n were literally talking about you" beomgyu said, letting go of his arm "besides, i’m taken"

jisung wanted to snarl 'so what?' but the sudden reality hit him: he threw a tantrum like a spoiled brat and almost went home without you. beomgyu scanned his face suspiciously, seeing the gears turn in jisung’s head.

"y/n loves you, i can see it in the way her face lits up when she speaks about you" beomgyu said and shrugged, adding before leaving "thought i’d just let you know"

jisung went back, looking for you. it turned out you stayed outside, gazing into the sky.

"um, hi" he mumbled, sitting down next to you. you didn’t reply "i’m… sorry"

"that was fast" you teased, bitterness shining through your voice.

"beomgyu walked up to me. i acted like an idiot, i know. i was just… jealous, i guess" jisung murmured almost incoherently, shy about his feelings. you turned around and sent him a sky smirk.

"you were what?"

jisung rolled his eyes playfully.

"i was jealous, are you happy?" he repeated louder.

"it’s fine. just… don’t yell at me. and let me finish, for god’s sake. if you listened what i had to say, you’d know that we were discussing which guitar i should buy you as a gift" you explained and saw his eyes widen. you couldn’t possibly stay mad any longer at this boba-eyed quokka.

┆彡 FELIX [ 필릭스 ]

there was a doorbell echoing through the living room and you sent your friend a puzzled look. she shrugged and went to open the door.

"oh… y/n, it’s felix" she turned around and sent you a pitiful look. you just sighed, nodding. she let him in, scanning him head to toe threateningly, and left to her bedroom to give you some privacy.

"how did you know i’m here?" you asked, eyes avoiding his.

"(friend name) added a picture to the story that you’re here… so… um… i grabbed those and flew"

finally looking up, you noticed the bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. felix handed you them and sat down next to you on the couch, hesitantly tapping his fingers on his thigh. he wanted to hold your hand but wasn’t sure if you wanted to right now.

"i’m a bad boyfriend, aren’t i? even seungmin knew you were fired" he sighed with a sad smile "i’m so sorry. there’s nothing that could… be an excuse"

you took his hand in yours, humming in thought.

"will you work on it? i missed you. i know work is busy but at least talk to me, eat breakfasts with me… if we don’t work it out, i’m afraid–" your voice broke, not even wanting to say those words.

felix hugged you tightly, holding you as close as possible.

"i know. i will work on it, i promise. i’ll try to clear my schedule and we can go on a trip to jeju maybe?" he mumbled into your shoulder.

he just got a last chance and he wasn’t going to blow it.

┆彡 SEUNGMIN [ 승민 ]

returning home after three days, you entered the house only to see seungmin sleeping on the couch. the place was neatly cleaned, not even a single dirty spot in sight.

"oh, you’re back" seungmin murmured drowsily, leaning on his elbows "how was the stay?"

"good. why are you sleeping in the couch?" you asked, walking up to the fridge to put in the food your mom gave you. to your surprise, it was full with fresh groceries.

"i… uh, couldn’t really sleep well without you. i also have a thought about what i said and… listen, y/n, i’m sorry" he said "i really like your parents, i really do. i was just tired and… i don’t know what it’s like, that’s true. i didn’t consider your and their feelings… and i just hope your parents don’t hate me now because i’ll cry"

"i think they love you more than me at this point, my mom kept asking about you" you smiled softly, relieved to hear that you made wrong assumptions.

"just tell me a bit earlier if we’re going next time, okay?" he asked and you nodded with a happy grin "besides, it was lonely here without you"

┆彡 JEONGIN [ 정인 ]

"dude, what the fuck?" changbin asked, standing frozen. jeongin frowned "you were supposed to text eunjeong only to get the info about the cake, nothing more!"

that was true – they wanted to make you a surprise party because you passed your exams and eunjeong works in one of the best bakeries in the town, so they figured it’d be the best to text her.

"i got distracted… i didn’t know y/n would make such a fuss out of it" jeongin grunted and opened his phone to see your location on 'my friends'. he bit his lip, sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. if he found out you were texting your ex… he wouldn’t be pleased about it either.

"what are you waiting for? go after her! and don’t spoil the surprise, too!" changbin pushed him out of the dorm.

in no time jeongin caught up with you, grabbing your hand. you turned around, wet stains on your cheeks. he felt a sharp sting in his heart upon realizing it’s his fault.

"listen… i didn’t mean any of that. but i need you to trust me" jeongin said, squeezing your hand. you hesitated.

"why? i trust you i just… don’t trust her" you mumbled, wiping your cheek.

"i know, i’m sorry. you’ll see soon, okay? can you forgive me? i love you so much, i just didn’t think it would hurt you that way" he added shyly. nodding softly, you tightened your lips into a line.

"okay…" you hummed.

hopefully the cake will be delicious enough to regain at least a piece of your trust.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @litepowee ,, @ocean-minho ,, @lessthanpast ,, @s-e-s-a-I-e-n-e ,, @fire-08 ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

[elanorpam]

it's been way too long since i last did wildly self-indulgent fanart, so of course i did it for an SVSSS AU that doesn't even have any actual fanfiction written of it yet. but what can i say! it's a compelling scenario! Just check the original post for details!

here's a workplace doodle for his mess of an outfit, too:

Xin Mo is floating behind his back, wrapped in talismans. the collars are meant to be vaguely inspired on a flower bud.

Some notes i came up with for this version, copied straight from a month-old discord convo:

he may have protagonist halo now, but he's for sure not a stallion protagonist. he literally exchanged fates with his favorite person in the world in order to spare them a hellish trial-- that's romantic as fuck!! damn!! this is old CLAMP shoujo and no mistake!!

binghe may no longer be the protag, but he's still a half-heavenly demon. power-wise, heavenly demons can't be topped, and all the remaining heavenly demons are accounted for. so, SQQ can't be a heavenly demon, even in part.

HOWEVER, as a protagonist, there's a factor more important than power! it's the CHUUNI FACTOR. what's more CHUUNI™️ than being part demon?

one option is being part demon and part angel.

how would that even fucking work??????? IDK man, you can either pull from chinese folklore for fairies or heavenly beings or spirits, or you can blame Airplane and go "he accidentally implied the existence of christian elements by means of importing unexamined anime tropes"

Shen Jiu conveniently has a big fat blank on his parentage. We as fans can and have put whatever the hell we wanted there.

SQQ would jump into the abyss still under the impression SJ was a shallow villain. If his trip through the abyss involves recovering SJ's memories somehow, that sure would be fun times, huh?

so he awakens a mysterious ancestry and survives the abyss and takes Xin Mo, but he probably takes longer than Binghe did due to being squishier.

but Xin Mo isn't ACTUALLY his! so he papers it over with sealing talismans, and to battle the temptation to wield it he takes to wearing these longass sleeves. they're probably covered in talismans as well.

guessing Xiu Ya stayed behind to be mooned over by the clown trio in Cang Qiong. let's go full sparkle-sue here and say he's now fighting almost entirely via musical cultivation. i like swan-necked konghou harps so let's go with that, it'll look dope.

why is he barefoot? why WOULDN'T he be, is the question. fragile!! suffering!! dainty!! he's a shrinking flower, tormented by the weight of the One Sword To Rule Them All!!

also for extra pathos, his constant mental struggle against Xin Mo means he can't spare energy to front. it takes constant focus! he's still a bit in his delusional shit, but even when he's going "oh no, binghe is only latched throat-deep onto my dick because he's a good boy who's concerned about me and the danger i could pose by losing control" he'd probably… well, he'd probably say that out loud to anyone who asked. he's in a half-trance, mentally battling the crazy-making sword. lying is too much work.

Wouldn’t resisting Xin Mo’s influence be the mental and spiritual equivalent to training under 400x gravity or something? his wife-beam is going to be off the charts when he puts it down.

also also: who the hell dressed him like that? fucking shang qinghua, of course, after SQQ showed up in the northern palace to punish MBJ for hurting binghe in the conference. did the system explain shit to SQH? on the one hand, extremely funny if it updates him on the role change out of nowhere mid-alliance. on the other hand, extremely funny if he only finds out because Binghe is crying safely in Qing Jing while the scum villain apparently jumped into the abyss.

Here's another link to the original AU post! I've had it open on a tab all this time just so i could point to it when I was done, so make sure to check it out!

[prettygiri222]

Hi baby idk if ur requests are on but can u pls do a black reader who doesn’t have a lot of ass (baby I be reading these fanfics (not urs) and it always has black women with fat ass and big boobs and I’m like 😔 that ain’t me) and who doesn’t smoke, with like anyone but maybe wit eren or Connie, thank you sm girl and even if u don’t do this I appreciate u reading this hottie.

Girl I feel you, my shit not the fattest either but I do smoke myself so that's why it's present in some of my stories😭

Connie x Black Fem Reader SMUT

“stop playing with me mama,” Connie quickly ushered your naked bodies into his bedroom. clothes lost from the heated makeout session that took place on the leather couch in the living room. the movie playing long forgotten on the flat-screen TV. “get on the bed.”

“ah!” you let out a little gasp when he brought his large hands down and delivered a slight slap to your ass. excited for what was coming next you let out a little giggle as you crawled onto the bed. you got into position as you always did, missionary. with you on your back and pulling back your legs so they rested near your head.

Connie loved being able to see your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure. the way your eyes crossed when a particularly strong orgasm raked through your body. the access he had to play with your small tits, his huge hands dwarfing them. he loved the way you clenched extra hard when he tweaked or sucked on your nipples leaving them puffy and sore in the morning. 

your slacked jaw gives Connie free entry to your mouth to spit and suck on your tongue, mixing saliva. you're left breathless, gasping for air unable to kiss him back with moans being forced out into his mouth by his deep strokes. or when halfway you would give up on holding your leg and clutch onto him for dear life. your smaller body jostling against his sweaty one as he pounded into your pussy, basically drowning in your slick.

but today he wanted to try something different.

“can you get on your hands and knees for me please?” your boyfriend asked, staring intently at you from above. your cunt was already glistening from just making out but he was no better. his dick was standing at attention between his legs just waiting to find its way inside you.

“ok…” you meekly replied wanting to please your boyfriend. you slowly dragged yourself into the new position. the arch you presented to your boyfriend was utterly pathetic. you felt embarrassed feeling more exposed despite holding yourself open for him only a few moments ago.

“you can do better than that,” Connie said. you felt him nudge his dick against your soaking cunt. 

“I can't” you let your head fall against the mattress. god, this was so humiliating. until now Connie never mentioned anything about wanting to try doggy style but you hated it. always jumping into a position that allowed the two of you to be face to face. you loved the sight of Connie above you. his happy trail that led to a sharp v-line, the way his abs flexed after every thrust made you so wet and his caring eyes that watched your every move to see how you would react. a cute way to tell that Connie was close was the way his pink lips quivered faster the closer he got to his orgasm.

but the underlying reason you preferred missionary above all was because anytime you watched porn you noticed how in every video the girls in doggy always had the fattest asses, something you didn’t have. but it wasn’t something that made you self-conscious. you just didn’t think you would enjoy it as much cause of it.

you loved your smaller body and showing it off. like earlier today, you were wearing a tight baby tee and your favourite pair of low waisted jeans that showed off your deep back dimples. Connie could not keep his hands off you, they trailed your exposed skin before pulling at your belt loops. it was his signal that he wanted them off.

Connie on the other hand didn’t mind indulging in your love for missionary. seeing his girl happy and fucked out made him feel good but he felt like he wasn’t able to give you all he had. Connie's dick wasn't the biggest but it was really thick and girthy with a downward curve due to how heavy it hung. 

what he noticed after prodding around at your insides with his fingers and memorizing all your soft spots was that your most sensitive spot was upwards, toward your stomach. so in missionary he could only brush it and not abuse it how he wanted.

wanting to hear no more of your complaints Connie took matters into his own hands. he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed where he was standing. before you could turn and see what he was doing he pressed his hand in between your shoulder blades and forced you down face first into the mattress. “oh sweetie, but you can”

your newfound arch was delicious. your upper body was pressed flat against the bed creating a deep curve in your spine that led to your ass that was being held up by Connie. you turned your head to the side so you could breathe

“look at you, so talented,” he praised, marvelling at your body. it was amazing how you could take his dick like a fucking champ yet you were so tiny compared to him. his huge hands swallowed each of your asscheeks as he kneaded them while teasing the tip of his dick against your slicked hole.

“I'm going in,” your boyfriend gave you a brief warning to prepare for the stretch but you weren't ready. you're so used to his curve going down towards your spine so feeling it go up into your tummy was new.

“oh my goddd” you whined out. he bottomed out quickly, his tip kissing your cervix. you instinctively pulled away from him already feeling overwhelmed.

“where you going ma?” Connie stuck his thumbs into your back dimples to give him some leverage. he easily pulled you back onto his dick. you let out a cry as he forced himself inside. “you feeling me deep inside?”

“yeaaa,” the wet squelching sounds of your pussy coating his dick could be heard. some of your wetness dripped down your thighs. after each thrust you could feel yourself being stretched out to fit his size. “all in my tummy pa”

the view Connie had was amazing. he spread your brown cheeks so he could watch himself slide in and out of your tiny cunt, the pink of your pussy appearing when he pulled out. he watched as your creamy paste began to coat his dick. pap! pap! pap! it was like music to his ears. 

you were already soaking wet, the sheets underneath where you two connected was drenched and turning darker in colour. so for the pure obscenity of it Connie spat on the shaft of his dick. he groaned watching as your hole greedily slurped it up along with his dick. 

“you hear that mama?” pap! pap! pap! Connie gave you a second to listen to the sounds your body was making. it was straight-up pornographic. “that’s how you know I’m hitting it right.”

“uhuhuh” your boyfriend was showing you what you were missing out all this time during missionary. his cock struck the same spot each time. it felt so good that it was starting to hurt.

the force of Connie's pelvis slapping against your ass was enough to send you flying forward every thrust. and each time he pulled you back like you were a fucking ragdoll. you couldn't do anything but take everything he was giving you.

you reached out to trying to grab something, whether it was the sheets, his arm, the bedframe, you just needed something to brace yourself. Connie watched as your tiny hands struggled to grasp at his sheets.

your poor pussy was going to be bruised in the morning from how rough Connie was being. once he found your sweet spot he didn't let up, the intensity he was pounding at it was insane. he didn’t let up, not that you would allow him to either.

each time Connie pulled out your pussy just sucked him back in. pap! pap! pap! the sight and the sounds you were making had his dick twitching, aching for release. and your cunt felt like heaven, all warm and wet. he wasn’t going to last any longer in this position. “ma, I'm so close.” he groaned.

“me to me to” you moaned out against the bed. the growing feeling in your stomach was about to burst. your legs shook like a fawn taking its first steps. you sunk further into the bed arching deeper into Connie needing just a bit more. his tip reaching your cervix was the final push, “m’cumming” you whined out.

you pressed your face into the sheets when the overwhelming feeling hit you. Connie let out a low whimper feeling you clenched tightly around his cock stopping him in his tracks. unable to pull out he was forced to release inside you, painting your insides.

“knew your lil ass would love it.” he chuckled watching you twitch underneath him. he waited until your sopping cunt stopped spasming around his dick. one you both finished your orgasms he pulled out watching as his cum mixed with your fluids spilled out of your quivering hole.

hope this was to your liking <3 my requests are open but I'll do another post on that later

[worksby-d]

Would it be crazy

Pairing: dilf!Andy Barber x babysitter!Reader 

Summary: Andy remembers your birthday, and you're surprised. But why wouldn't he? 

Warnings: Age gap, love confessions tehe 

Word count: ~1,000

a/n: sorryyyy we're skipping the first date for now cause idk how to write that yet 🤪 enjoy a self indulgent birthday thought instead!!!!

After knocking on his door a second time, you sigh and reach for your phone in your pocket to double check his text. 

He asked a few hours ago if you’d be able to watch his kids tonight. You don't babysit much anymore since you're together, but you figured he's in a pinch if he's asking you instead of their mom, and so last minute. 

You definitely have the time right…

While you have it open, you send a quick message letting him know you're at the door. 

When a couple more moments go by of nothing, you say fuck it. You normally wouldn't let yourself in, all in an attempt to keep some boundaries when you know his kids are around. 

“Hello?” You call out. 

It’s oddly quiet when you step through the door, until he comes practically jogging around the corner into the entryway. 

“You're here,” he smiles, whisking you into a hug – or at least trying to.

“Yeah,” you scoff, not fully submitting to his embrace yet. You press your hands to his chest to keep him at a distance. “I've been knocking and texting you.” 

“Oh shit,” he winces. His fingers apologetically brushing against the small of your back have you close to giving in already. “I’m sorry, I didn't have my phone by me.” 

It's nearly impossible to stay annoyed with him. He wraps his arms tighter around your waist, coaxing you closer. He goes in for a kiss and you drop your hands, ready to forget all about it, but you remember where you are and look around. 

“They're not here,” he shakes his head with a smile, leaning in to steal that kiss. 

“But you asked me here to…” You raise an eyebrow. It's like he's giddy about something. “Why are you being weird?” 

“I can't believe you said yes on your birthday,” he teases. You can tell he was waiting to blurt it out. But he gives you a look, like he's scolding you for not doing something more fun than hang out with some kids for the evening. 

“Oh… I–” He's caught you off guard. The look on your face softens. You open your mouth to say something, but close it. You didn't expect him to remember your birthday. 

You settle on joking with him. 

“You used your kids to lure me,” you gasp, placing a hand on your chest in faux shock. “You could have just asked me to come over.” 

“That's no fun,” he smirks. “I needed a way to get you here. I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Well, it worked.” Your hands come up to gently grab his face, pulling him in for a kiss finally. Your words are murmured against his lips. “Consider me surprised.” 

When you pull away for a breath, he takes one of your hands in his to start walking toward his kitchen with you. 

“You really didn't have anything better to do tonight?” He quips. 

“Well, it's a Thursday,” you sigh. “So no. I'll go out this weekend—” 

Your voice trails off as you step into the room, seeing everything he planned. This is more than the average date night you’re used to. 

He has the table set with candles lit. Balloons and a cake. Dinner ready… 

“Did you make the food?” 

You don't mean to sound so astonished at that part, but he's usually not one to cook. 

“Don't sound so shocked,” he chuckles. “Of course I did.” 

A burning smell hits your nose and you know for a fact he's telling the truth now. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He can tell you notice it by the way you scrunch your nose. “I was fighting with the smoke detector before you got here. Probably why I couldn’t hear you knocking. I'm sorry again about that.”

“Oh, it's okay,” you laugh, patting his back as you lean against his side. “I can't believe you remembered my birthday…” 

“Why wouldn't I?” He gently nudges his shoulder, getting you to lift your head and look at him. “You told me when it is.” 

You just shrug. “I don't know.” 

“You remember mine, don't you?” He teases.

“Of course.” You give him a warning look for doubting you. 

But it's just part of the point he's trying to make. 

“So why wouldn't I remember yours?” 

He got you there. 

“Just not used to someone paying attention to me like that I guess, I don't know.” 

You're averting your focus, pretending to look through the gifts on the counter instead of working through your doubts with him. 

His face falls into a small pout and he kisses your cheek. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be woah is me about it,” you try to laugh it off. “Thank you for remembering.” 

“You're welcome,” he smiles. 

A bout of silence fills the room until you speak up with a whispered voice. “I like you a lot."

“I like you a lot, too,” he assures, pressing a soft kiss to your lips this time. 

When he pulls away slightly, you let out a shaky breath that you hope isn't noticeable. 

“Would it be crazy if I said I love you?” 

It's nearly inaudible, but he hears you. The corner of his mouth twitches as he represses his smile from growing any bigger. 

“Well, I don't know…” He says, acting like he's thinking about it. “Would it be crazy if I said it back?” 

You let out a laugh, laced with relief. “No.”

“So no, neither of us are crazy.” 

“I love you,” you say softly. 

“I love you, too.” 

The two of you share a kiss that's dizzying, but also feels impossible to pull away from. 

When you do, your eyes catch something on the counter. 

“Is that a cookie cake?” You ask, still a little breathless. 

“Yeah,” he nods, pulling it closer for you to look at. “I remember you saying once that you don't like regular cake, so…”

“You're killing me,” you groan, but can't help but laugh. 

He smiles, but braces himself for your answer. “In a good way?”

“In the best way,” you promise, resting your head against his chest. “I can't believe you. Thank you.” 

Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby @evelineangel66 @hollyseb

[faerieorbitars]

welll. grins

the basic premise i had for the overarching conflict was that all these completely independent fantasy worlds just exist as they usually would until the big bad of the campaign merges them all into One world through various means i havent figured out yet. its not any specific fantasy settings aside from a couple like neverland and wonderland . and oz bc i like oz. but its not based Strictly on that one map bc i wanna have the freedom to play around with different fantasy worlds if i want to. also if this was actually a campaign it would give players the freedom to pick any blorbo from a thing they like and then i can just stick their blorbos world in there somewhere. research pending

the idea im playing with for the big bad is a lonely god in a completely void universe figuring out how to bring all these worlds together somehow and then slowly draining the new world of its base magic in order to become more powerful. its not like All magic but like base magical principles of those worlds. so things like . animals in narnia randomly losing their human intelligence, people in neverland start growing up, over in hyrule the master sword becomes just a regular sword, etc. i havent thought through the logistics of this at all yet or how it effects things like spellcasting but i like the idea a lot

thats the basic gist im playing with currently. i would need a full cast to fully develop it but i dont want to limit myself to a cast in case it becomes an Actual campaign one day. but also i dont wanna put in the work to dm to make it one. not currentlyanyways. perhaps another time

im afraid the madness is setting in for me again (started thinking abt my conceptual fantasy crossover ttrpg setting based on that map where somebody put moominvalley next to middle earth)

[honeyshiddendesire]

Dirty Alphabet - Eustass

Eustass Kid x Female Reader

*This one I got carried away cause he's my boo lol 🥵❤️‍🔥🫦*

*banner*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you're already in a relationship he will be a big snuggler but don't you dare mention it or he'll deny it. If it's a casual/ one night stand thing he'd probably see if you wanna go get drinks…or just bounce up outta there. Lol

B = Breath Play (do they like it done to them or doing the deed)

Loves choking you and knowing he's so strong he could crush your windpipe buttt he's a kinky man so he loves it if you return the favor when you're riding his cock. Your smaller hands trying to squeeze even just the smallest amount of oxygen makes him grunt and groan out curses.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Big mess maker for sure!! Wants to fill you with cum but also wants to cover you in it too. Smear that shit along with your makeup till you're a big sloppy mess that he can tease. If you swallow so be it but he loves shooting it on that pretty face of yours. Also he cums A LOT! So be prepared!

D = Dirtiest Kink (what they think is their dirtiest kink)

Wants to tag team you with Killer which you expected but the real secret is that he thought of sharing you with Law and Luffy. He doesn't know why but the thought plagues his brain. Maybe it's the fighting they've done together in Wano that drew him to the idea but he'll never admit it to you…maybe he'll tell Killer though.

E = Exhibitionist? (Do they like being watched)

Loves attention!!! Watch him all you want but don't think he'll be shy about it baby. That man will solo masturbate and talk you out of your panties in a second to join him. Also loves watching you as well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything to showcases his strength and his big dick. Full nelson, mating press to keep you pinned down and feel his entire length. Also pronebone so you can't push him off and his big arms can cage you in how he likes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Will crack jokes but always in a teasing way as he's fucking you into the mattress. If you try to make an embarrassing joke though just expect him to scowl.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I wanna say kind of trimmed cause he looks like he manscapes but he likes having a happy trail of red hair leading to the ‘main treat’.

Idk why but I feel like if you didn't shave he'd go feral. 🤷‍♀️ Idk why lol but I think you not following the usual beauty standards would drive him literally insane lol

I = Initiation (how do they get you going? Vice versa )

He's a horn ball 24/7 so he's super handsy and if he's not touching you he'll spill pure filth no matter who's around. His crew gets a kick out of it but if they try and make comments to you best believe they'll be thrown overboard or spending their time scrubbing their own blood off the deck.

J = Jealous (how do they get when jealous )

It's Kidd…he's territorial. I can totally see him getting jealous and storming off somewhere. But if you've been together a long time he's not asking questions just grabbing you and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to punish you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation Kink! He loves the both of you being fucked out beyond the point of words, shaking and drooling from round after round.

Corruption Kink! If you're a good girl, best believe he wants to change that. Wants to turn you into a horny ticking time bomb, literally desires to turn that shy exterior into a handsy sex machine just like him.

Glasses glasses glasses!!! If you wear glasses it makes you look nerdy/sweet which plays into his corruption Kink and now he can't help but picture what they'll look like covered in his cum. (Totally self indulgent but IDC it's my page lol)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. This man has no shame when it comes to sex on his ship, hell he'll even fuck you in an alley way. Weirdly doesn't like you being seen though so he'll pick positions that he can cover you with his big body. Even covering your mouth so no one can hear the sweet sounds you make for him only.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He's always horny but loves when you get just as handsy as him though. If you do try flirting he'll make you work for it just to see how far and bold you get.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Can't really think of anything this man won't do tbh lol 🤣 He's a freaky freak.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves fucking your face but loves eating pussy, it's his favorite meal. Ask him and he'll be honest.🥵 So sit on his face and then you both can devour each other.

P = Pace (rough and fast, slow and soft)

Depends on his mood. He's always rough but sometimes he'll fuck you slow with deep mind numbing thrusts till you're begging for him. Yet other times he'll fuck you fast and hard till you're shaking and drunk on his cock.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes yes yes. Whenever and however many he can get from you he's down.

R = Rope (shibari, bondage? Do they like it?)

Yup whether giving or receiving that man is down. He's a big boy who can take you whipping him or even slapping him across the face while he's tied up. But won't go as hard on you as you can go on him. He knows his strength but won't push yours unless you beg of course.

S = Sharing? (Are they willing to share you?)

Depends on who it is. If it's Killer, absolutely lol If he's having a captains talk with Law and Luffy and they just so happen to mention you he'll freak out in a feral lust but ultimately it's up to you of course.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He makes his own of course. He's a craftsman with many skills and desires so of course he'll come up with something.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The meanest 🥵 teasing you till you're pouting and begging for relief

V = Voyeur (do they like to watch)

Yup yup! He'll even join you in giving him a show lol

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you wear heels, step on him! Not in a submissive way but more in a, “I'm strong those pointy heels won't do shit” type of way. It's like a play on a pain fetish and heel/foot fetish. The feeling of your heels scratching at his shoulders make his groans so much raspier. Will also kiss along your ankles when you wear them telling you how hot they look.

If your feet end up hurting while you walk he'll just toss you over his shoulder before you can even think of removing them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick baby~ heavy dick and veiny with big breeding balls 🤷‍♀️ just saying the man cums alot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always on go!!!!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His brain can be pretty active so it takes him a minute tbh but he'll cuddle you to sleep and fall out shortly after.

[strniohoeee]

Mortified

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: This is pure self indulgence LMAOO. This is literally a dumb idea I had from the song Face Down, like idk Matt’s so shy like you just know he goes to POUNDTOWNNN🧎🏽‍♀️💍

Warnings⚠️: It’s suggestive they talk about sex, and sexual experiences, but there’s no actual sex happening in this one

Song for the imagine: Face Down-MCVERTT, A$AP Ferg, Sexyy Red

⚠️Suggestive, but not smut⚠️

Bend her over, make her scream

Pillow full of Maybelline

Give me rocks until the top, teach

Her how to make cream

Currently I was at the triplets house with Madi and Nate. We were all chilling in the living room telling embarrassing stories while we waited for Matt to come back from his meeting with dinner for us

“Okay most embarrassing high school experience” Nate asked us

“To be honest I don’t remember” Chris said

“I think the most embarrassing thing was having that fuck ass haircut” Nick said laughing

“I think everything I did in high school was embarrassing” Madi said

“Ouu embarrassing….hmm I think it was the time I asked out this “popular” guy infront of all his popular friends and he rejected me” I said laughing and covering my face in embarrassment

“In front of the whole squad?? You have some balls” Chris said laughing

“I don’t even know why I did it” I said shaking my head

We were telling each other more embarrassing stories until it suddenly became sexual.

“Craziest sex story” Madi asked us

“There was this one time this guy was fucking me while his sister was sleeping right infront of us” Nick said

“THE FUCK? Where were you” Nate asked him

“I was in his living room, and his sister was knocked out cold on the floor in front of us” Nick said laughing

“Are you sure she was sleeping?” I asked him laughing

“Yeah…she could’ve been awake but too scared to interrupt y’all” Madi said laughing

“No like she was knocked out…like snoring and everything” he said shrugging his shoulders

“So anyways poor girl, how about you Chris?” I asked

“Yoo there was this one time I was fucking this girl, and she asked to ride so I was aii bet. We switch she starts riding, and yoooo she was riding like I swore I was levitating, but anyways this girl suddenly spat on me” Chris said laughing

“SPAT ON YOU? Or in your mouth?” Nate asked him

“No like shawty spat on me, and smacked me across the face” he said

“And???” Madi asked him

“Oh I came so fucking hard….thats when I knew I liked that freaky shit” he said

“You sick fuck” Nick said laughing

“I’m sick? You let a guy fuck you while his sister slept in front of y’all” Chris said laughing

“Madi what’s yours?” I asked looking at her

“To be honest I haven’t had anything crazy, but one time this guy throat fucked me so hard the back of my throat got bruised and like started to bleed a little bit” she said casually

“That’s fucking crazy bitch I salute you because that’s fucking insane” I said laughing

“Bleeding throat is insane” Chris said

“Nate you go” Madi said nodding her head at him

“Mmm there was this one time I was having shower sex with this girl, and all of a sudden she flips me around pushes me against the wall and starts eating my ass” he said laughing so fucking hard

“Eating your ass is fucking crazy” I said

“No like honestly I was like uhhh…but then it felt so fucking good I was confused” he said shaking his head

“Nate likes getting his salad tossed” Nick said laughing

“It’s not a regular occurrence, but I often find myself thinking about her….might have to hit her up again” he said looking off into the distance

“That’s fucking crazy” Chris said laughing at him

“How about you Y/N?” Madi asked

“She’s dating Matt….do you think he’s really fucking her shit up” Nate said

“Honestly fair….like the fuck is his little shy ass doing” Chris said laughing

“You’d be surprised” I said shaking my head

“Well don’t just sit there TELL US” Nick said

“You want me to explain my sex life with your brother?” I looked at him bamboozled

“Not really, but for the sake of this conversation I’m all ears” he said laughing

“I have to demonstrate it because it was fucking insane” I said

“That fucking crazy?” Chris asked

“Dude yes” I said standing up

“Okay so he came to my house one day like all upset and shit, and he was like I need to fuck this out now, and so I was like okay period let’s go take it out on me. So he wastes no time. So anyways we’re past foreplay. He starts calling me all these dirty names, and he’s like smacking me-“ I was cut off

“Smacking you where?” Madi asks

“He was smacking my ass, my face my pussy the whole nine yards” I said

“OKAY WOAH WOAH” Chris said closing his eyes

“SORRY, so anyways he’s like open your mouth, so I do, and he spits down my throat, and whatever…alright so boom, oh by the way we’re in my kitchen and he like pushes me against my island, and starts going down on me like this motherfucker was going crazy I almost passed out so many times I had to stop him” I said

“What a fucking freak” Nate said

“Oh 100%, but anyways he comes back up and like lifts my left leg up, and starts fucking me, and my backs banging into the edge of island like I had a bruise that’s how hard he was going, so then boom he flips me around pushes me over the island lifts my right leg up and starts going crazy, and he’s like smacking me and pulling my hair so hard. I was crying from how good it was, and he was fucking me dumb like all that could be heard was-“ I said

“I’m waiting for the demonstration” Madi said

“Right let me show you” I responded

I bend forward and pretend to be getting fucked

“So picture this Im like this my right legs up, and he’s going to pound town….I was like uh,uh,uh,uh,uh,uh,uh” I said and then changed positions

I stood up pretending to be Matt, and holding the air and thrusting into it

“And he was like uh,uh,uh,uh,uh,uh,uh” I said pretending to be Matt

“And he’s like smacking me all crazy and shit, like dripping sweat all over me gripping my hair” I said to them

What we didn’t hear was Matt coming in the house and up the stairs….

“So we were like uh,uh,uh,uh,uh” I said pretending to fucking like Matt was

“And then-“ I was cut off by Madis face dropping and looking behind me, so I turned around to be met with a wide eyes Matt

“Oh uh hiiii” I said fully facing him

“What the fuck is going on” he said blushing

“Nothinggggg” I said smiling at him

“The fuck were you showing them?” He asked blinking at me

“She was showing us how you fucked her like an animal” Chris said

“Chris shut the fuck up” I said sucking my teeth at him

“Exposing our sex life” he said

“Well we were all telling stories and it was my turn, and they didn’t think you fucked good, so I was actually giving you a good rep” I said to him

“Right….” He said scratching his neck

“Who would’ve known Matt FUCKEDDDD” Nate said playfully hitting him

“Fuck off” he said laughing at him while blushing

“Look at Matt…he such a little freak” Chris said laughing at him

“Matt’s a great fuck” I said

“Babe STOP” he said covering my mouth

“It’s always the quiet ones” Nick said shaking his head

“It really is” I said laughing

“OKAY no more about our sex life” he said looking at me

“Sorry baby” I said laughing and grabbing his red cheeks

The End

This was such a dumb idea I had, but like I really wanted to write it LMAOOO😭😭 anywhooo hope yall enjoyed 🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[inkblot22]

Truss

Woohoo Malleus woohoo! I'm making the trigger list a bit bigger because I keep thinking about how people will totally skip reading it if it's too small and then blame the writer for their own mistake. That shit is clown behavior but I don't want to be held responsible for someone else's case of stupid, so sorry to those of you who think this looks clunky. Line divider found here: @/cafekitsune. This is also a fic that is wildly self-indulgent, in that I mean that while writing I visualized my own physical form and quirks.

That being said, this fic is written with afab (assigned female at birth) readers in mind. No pronouns other than you are used for the reader, but the reader does possess a womb. Reader's chest is not described in the least, just the lower bits, and even then it's not at length. Malleus also refers to the reader as "beauty," but masculine people can be beautiful too so idk but here's a warning anyways.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for noncon, fae interaction rules used for said noncon, slight bullying if you squint, one (1) mention of blood (I'm beginning to think I have a problem.) Stay safe while reading. Possible OOC Malleus, I haven't read any of book 7 and if you spoil it I'll block you temporarily.

This is absolutely not your fault, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. It’s awful. Crewel was for sure his namesake, because this whole thing was a steaming pile of-

Alright, from the top, just to organize your thoughts: you are the only non-magic student in a school of mages. The teachers are mages. Your best friend/roommate/monster friend is a mage. The plants here can do magic, but you? No. Thanks homeworld. Love the gift of nothing.

Thus, the faculty have seemingly created a game of “how to piss off and challenge the magicless student,” in which they give you various tasks to just make you lose sleep. Vargas had you running laps until your legs felt like jelly, doing pushups until your shoulders started sounding like glowsticks. Trein had you learning completely off the wall trivia, such as what type of fabric the Queen of Heart’s favorite bathrobe was made of and why it made her more powerful. That’s nothing, it’s easy because you apparently have so much free time in their eyes. But Crewel? Fuck that man. 

When you got the assignment, it sounded fun and exciting. He gave you seeds for a fast-growing rose thing. Honestly you weren’t paying attention to the name of it, but you retained what you needed to know. The plant only grew in moonlight, so you needed to cover it before you went inside at night. It needed a minimum of two hours of moonlight to grow per night. If the basket was overturned and it was exposed to the sun, then the plants would die. Moderate watering, no fertilizer, the usual.

Once the plants bloomed, you were supposed to take the flowers and make some kind of glamour potion, so here you are, failing at doing so. You only had four flowers, and you’re down to the last one. You wasted three tries and you still have no idea what the hell you’re doing wrong and it’s due next alchemy class and you’re breaking curfew on top of all of it. You glare into your cauldron with your latest failed attempt and hunker down to shoulder against the side so you can dump it out and try again. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. You turn around and you almost want to cry tears of joy, because if anyone can help you, it’s him.

“When I saw a little head duck down, I thought that something strange was happening. A crime, perhaps.” Malleus smiles, and it’s not a kind smile, but you’ll take anything remotely positive at this point, “What are you doing on the floor, child of man?”

“Oh, I have to empty the cauldron.” You puff out, still trying to throw your weight to push the cauldron. You did it twice earlier, so this must be the effects of mental and physical fatigue.

“Oh, that’s right. Allow me.” Rather than waving a hand or anything, Malleus strolls on over and uncrosses his arms, taking one hand and pressing his fingertips against the lip of the cauldron. The whole damn thing tips, the failed mixture pouring out into the nearby drain. With the same ease, he tilts it back and turns to you.

When he looks at you, it’s… weird. You know he’s lizard-like, as dragons evidently are, but even Sebek’s eyes aren’t this jarring. They aren’t soulless or cold or unfeeling, but it feels like he is looking through you. His emotions don’t reflect in his eyes properly. That’s what it feels like. They reflect, but it’s wrong. Fractured. His lips quirk into a smile and you blink.

“Uh… wait, what are you doing out here, Tsunotaro?” You ask, turning to gather more materials, following the transcript of your recording from class.

His smile grows, “Just on a walk. Will you tell me what you’re trying to make?”

“Uh, yeah. This glamour potion? I don’t know. Remember how I was growing those flowers?”

“Of course. And what happened to the rest?”

“I… uh… I messed up the other potions. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here.”

“No?”

“No. Do… do you think you could maybe… help me?”

“Of course.” Malleus plucks the flower up, twirling it thoughtfully, “Why don’t you gather the other ingredients?”

That was simple enough. Petals from your tediously grown blooms, some kind of floral oil with tiny white flowers inked on the label, a ball of clay no bigger than a pea, something that really resembled a severed finger, something that was hopefully just someone’s baby tooth, a handful of crystals in a rainbow of colors, and water. Lots of water. Malleus watches as you put all your ingredients on the nearby table and hums thoughtfully before dimming the lights and turning back to you.

“And where did you hear that you needed these things?” He asks. It’s not something that he says with any indication that you’re right or wrong. The tone is bland but the words say enough. 

He has essentially told you before that he believes you inept, a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing, but it doesn’t stop you from looking as hurt as you feel, “The headmage visited class and gave me some pointers?”

“You personally or the entire class? I don’t personally recall concocting anything like this when I was in your grade.�� He says.

You suppose you’re grateful that he’s so blunt, but his flat tone makes the sting of your failure that much sharper. You thought he’d be nicer, since you two are sort of friends, and Lilia has told you that Malleus is fond of you, but it also makes just as much sense for him to refrain from easing up in his flatness because he supposedly thinks so much of you. He thinks you’re an idiot, but he’s not willing to treat you as such.

“The whole class. And no one else in my grade is doing this.” You mutter, staring at your assortment of items on the table.

He approaches the table and plucks up the beaker of water, twisting it in his hand, “Did you distill this?”

“What?”

“Tap water often has various minerals in it. If you haven’t been using distilled water, you’ve been adding an extra ingredient. Typically, most potions are much more forgiving and you can use tap water with little issue, but this particular potion is known to be disagreeable.” He murmurs, crossing the room with your beaker of water and setting it up to distill with a practiced ease. “That’s why it’s typically saved for fourth year students’ aptitude testing.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You’d like to protest but it unfortunately makes sense. Malleus looks over at you, somewhat blandly, then turns around to face you, looking half concerned.

You answer his question before he can ask, “I didn’t… know that. I guess it’s my fault for being from a different world…”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment you can see amusement in his eyes, fractured with the underlying coldness, “Oh, it isn’t. It may be your fault for failing to ask questions, but having someone who is unused to this type of work take on an advanced project is cruel.”

“You think so?” You ask, voice lilting with hope.

“Of course I do. Why you’re expected to make a potion of this caliber is beyond me.” Malleus states blankly.

“Uh, yeah. I- I don’t know either. But thank you for helping me!”

His expression flinches. It lasts for less than a second before it smooths into an odd grin. You’re not quite sure what that means, but you’re too happy to stop and think about it. The water finishes distilling and you carefully begin crafting, using the tips Malleus occasionally mumbles towards you. Don’t put that ingredient in yet, stir clockwise, you need to grind that up with the oil, don’t rush you have time, et cetera, et cetera, and then you have a gorgeous violet mixture, glimmering with a pearlescent golden sheen.

Your jaw drops. Somehow the few ingredients you threw together is enough to fill several bottles. Malleus is making a smug face as you rush to the shelves of empty bottles and choose several fluted bottles, quickly using a ladle to deposit the final, successful potion into the bottles. You’re so giddy with your success that you hardly notice as Malleus walks towards the door and locks it. But only hardly.

“What was that for?” You ask, not actually caring. You’re too happy to be worried.

“Oh, we’ll need privacy.” He responds.

That part confuses you enough into caring. You turn around from where you’ve safely wrapped the bottles and slipped them into your bag and shoot Malleus a frown, “Privacy? For what?”

Malleus doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the table and you feel your body stand up, void of your control, and stagger over to stand in front of him. If you were concerned before, you’re frightened now. Malleus looks down at you with his strange gaze and folds his arms.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why can’t I move?”

“You really don’t know?” He asks. Something about his tone sounds mocking, but you’re certain he doesn’t mean it to be. It’s his version of sarcasm, he’s spoken to you like this before.

Your body hops up on the table, taking a seat, and Malleus turns to stand before you, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shift your hips- what the fuck is going on- and Malleus very gently hooks his hands in the pants of your dorm uniform.

Your dorm uniform is legit whatever the hell you want it to be, so it would change on the daily. Today it was a pair of jeans and a hooded jacket. He kneels to remove your shoes and stands back up, leaning close as he tilts your chin up. His breath fans over your lips.

“You didn’t tell me that you were so lovely beneath your clothes.” His hand on your chin shifted to your cheek, and his other hand laid flat on the table. “And… your smell is much stronger. Are you aroused?”

“You can’t just ask me that! I don’t know what you did but you’ve got to let me go.”

“I didn’t do anything. This is your doing.” He retorts, pecking your lips very chastely. 

“What are you talking about?” When he didn’t respond, instead pressing the tips of his hand that was on the table against your exposed sex, your heart jumps but your body doesn’t move. You can’t, “Don’t do that!”

“Lilia informed me that making someone climax is similar to binding someone to you.” He mumbles, kissing you again as his fingers slowly slip inside. “It makes them fall in love with you. Isn’t that the most binding contract of all?”

You don’t know why he isn’t listening, but even less than that, you don’t know why he thought you could handle two fingers, much larger than your own, penetrating you. You squeal, but your body is incapable of tensing. Malleus pulls back, looking at you in a soft confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? That’s too many- it’s uncomfortable!”

He blinks at you and withdraws a finger, which feels much better. You sigh. If you’re going to be forced to do this, you may as well not get hurt in the process. You close your eyes and Malleus hums.

“Is this better? You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had a dalliance with a human before.”

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to… to forgive you for this.”

“No?” You can hear his smirk and the squelching noise as he pumps his finger gets louder. He slips the second finger in again and the burn isn’t so bad as last time, “Well, maybe you can decide that for certain after the wedding.”

“The wedd-” You have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning. Your body leans back, laying on the table, and your gentle assailant curls his fingers, leaning forward to mouth at your neck, “There’s not gonna be a motherfucking wedding. You’re-”

You can hear his horn scraping against the table, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were so entitled. You’re squeezing around my fingers. Are you close?”

“No!” You’re a liar. A ragged gasp leaves your throat and you feel the drop in the pit of your stomach, the burst of euphoria traveling up your spine as his thumb presses against your clit.

Malleus laughs, then leans up off of you. The sound of clothing hitting the ground is the first and only warning you get, but you can’t move, so it might as well have been silent. You feel something on your stomach, coming up about a half inch below your belly button. It’s… almost cool to the touch. You would think it would be warmer, but it’s not. Your eyes round as you stare at the ceiling, and Malleus’s face leans into view, his eyes boring into yours as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“You’re very warm. I’ve always thought this. You must be boiling inside.”

“I- what?”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back up. You feel the velvety head of his cock press against your entrance and as much as you want to jolt away, you can’t move your body. You can’t even look down to see what he’s doing. Your lashes flutter as the stretch sets in, the pressure worse than his two fingers. It burns, especially along the bottom, where his weight lays heavy thanks to gravity. You’re capable of wincing and letting out a whine, but nothing else.

“H-hey, that- that hurts.” You babble.

“Does it? You are squeezing me like a vice. I’ll stay still for a moment so you can relax some. Let me know when it stops hurting.” It’s very peculiar. Although he speaks with an animated tone, his voice is often detached. You would think he’d have more emotion since he’s inside of you.

You blink rapidly and decide that now is as good a time as any to ask, “What the hell is happening?”

“Must you tease me so?” He responds, his voice tense.

“What? I’m not teasing you. I can’t move!”

“Of course you can’t. You only just bound yourself to my will.”

“I what?” You shout.

“What, did you think I enslaved you? I could have, when we first met. You’re too free, giving people your name, thanking them, taking gifts freely… it drives me mad.” You feel a flash of heat, something warm rolling against your skin, like standing too close to a gas stove, “And now I find that you didn’t even know? I didn’t think you were such a fool.”

“That’s just called being polite!” You protest. “Oh my god-”

“I suppose I can’t blame you, really. Relax, lest I harm you.” He murmurs, rolling his hips further as though he can slide in deeper. 

You squeak, “N-no, that’s-”

“Too much, yes. Tell me, in your world, do faefolk exist?”

“I- I mean, if they do, most people don’t believe in them.” The oddity of the situation felt like a blanket. Having a semi-conversation while your friend- not after this- used you as a dick holster. It was almost comforting. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

His voice was deeper than normal, an underlying rasp to his voice, as though it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat, “I will explain. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. But after I explain, I will begin to move.”

“H-hey, no-”

His voice sounded choked, half strangled as he stifled a groan, “I apologize for not being clear earlier. Among the fae, verbal contracts are common and binding. You do not give someone your name. You wonder why I never directly gave you mine? It is a way to bind someone to your will. You do not accept gifts. Invitations are fine, but a gift is a sign that you owe someone something. My help- a boon- is a gift. Typically it is repaid with another kind turn. And, most importantly, you do not thank someone without the sufficient power to break their hold.” 

You felt him draw back, that wave of heat rolling over you again, and then he slammed forward. The slick noise and dull smack were muffled by your squeal, his cockhead punching your cervix like it stole from him.

“Foolish little thing. I suppose it makes you cute.” He sneers, and your body sits up, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

The angle makes his motion a bit less painful. He’s no longer bumping against your cervix, thank the Seven, but the stretch remains. Your eyes flinch shut and Malleus tilts your chin up to kiss you again.

“St-stop- stop!” You whimper, “You’re hurting me!”

“If you would relax, beauty, that would not be a problem.” His chuckle is dark, the squelching from your coupling making a wicked duet that makes you feel dizzy, “And you said it to me so easily as well. Thank me again.”

“Wh-” One of his hands slipped under your hips, holding your bottom just under the split in your cheeks, and nipped your neck as a flat thumping echoed from where your bodies met, your legs bouncing with the motion. His member had gone back to bullying your cervix, and you wailed in the hopes that he would stop, “Thank you!”

“Heh… it escapes your lips so freely. Tell me, beauty-” He cut himself off with a grunt, panting against the column of your throat. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like? I would give you the world on a platter, should you want it.”

“I- ow! Y-you’re hurting me!”

There was a possibility that he was getting off on the pain he was causing you, just as much as there was a possibility of him not understanding that he was hurting you. With every motion of his hips against yours, despite the wicked pain, you felt that ever evil tug in your gut, like a stone growing heavier and heavier. 

You tried again, because if this had to happen, if you were under his control now, you may as well not get injured. You would not be pissing blood if you could help it, “It’s too deep!”

He listened. It was odd, but he listened, his voice warming as he slid back a bit and continued ramming into you, but no longer beating the hell out of your internal organs.

“I didn’t realize. Is that better?” His voice sounded warmer, echoey against your shoulder. His teeth grazed over your skin again when you didn’t respond. He choked out your name and you sort of came back to yourself.

“U-uh- I guess?”

“Wonderful.” He mumbled, his free hand reaching between your bodies and slicked with your sweat, to tweak your clit.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you reached your height. Whoever he had been with in the past couldn’t have been so sensitive, since you felt his body jerk against you, an uncontrolled undercurrent to his motions. You let out a quiet, squealing moan and barely even felt the break when Malleus bit you to muffle his own groan. You didn’t feel him climaxing inside of you. You felt the control return to your body and flopped backward onto the table, your hoodie damp with sweat. Malleus took a step back, then carefully redressed you, then himself. You looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration in his eyes, not the fractured appearance of such. It was like he was actually looking at you.

When he spoke to you, leaning forward to cup your cheek, his voice was warm, warmer than ever, “Now, let’s start planning for the wedding, my beauty.”

[moe-broey]

YOUR MIND........ this is sooooo much more well thought out than what I was thinking LMFAO ESP. FACTORING IN. How long/where each Book lands after the other... it makes SO much more sense (esp I. Literally forgot Book 4 happened in 3 days 😭😭😭)

In all of this I also just. Forgot child soldiers exist. In Child Soldiers the Video Game Series LMFAOO (AND VERONICA IS RIGHT THERE. THE WHOLE REASON I WENT ON THIS HUGE TANGENT). But it makes SOOO much sense for Anna and Bruno both. Esp the way Bruno seemed to be well established/integrated into the Order, to the point where Anna beats herself up for it when she learns his secret. Like... not only is she the commander, this has been pretty much her entire life. Of course she would feel like she Should have known better, that this never should have gotten by her. She was trained to do the very same thing, the same exact way.

And also, changing Alfonse and Sharena's ages to be closer together and the maturity difference being a case of how vastly different they WERE treated... it adds so much to them, and also does make things flow better. With Gustav's reaction to Alfonse's choice (disapproval), and how Sharena managed to follow Alfonse anyway (surely also met w disapproval, but seemingly nothing was done to stop this).

Also, I DO love the idea of Kiran being older than Alfonse as well... it's just very funny to me. Another point to Alfonse growing up fast, but still being a fledgeling in many ways! MEANWHILE.... college grad Kiran....... I think it would be SO funny.

I have a hard time conceptualizing timelines tbh LMFAOO so like. All my thoughts are v ambiguous/sometimes subject to change! Might just eat yours instead 🫡

LMFAOOOO

It's very unclear! But Alfonse's "It's been at least 10 years since Sharena was a child" line is a rough estimate itself. I feel like it could place Sharena anywhere to 18 to 20 when she joined the Order of Heroes (this is just my headcanon though, based on what's typical irl -- there's also a possibility that in Askr, the age you're considered "an adult" is different, but that's also speculation)

But if Sharena was anywhere from 18 to 20 when she joined the Heroes, and granting that a few years have passed to get to Book 4. Maybe 22? 24? At oldest? If every book is a year. Which in that case!

Yeah she could be at this point actually 🤔 Or maybe 26.

And really you can throw any random number at Alfonse like. I kinda hc he's 3 years older than her, if not 4. They do seem close in age, but far enough that Alfonse has always felt more "grown up" to her (possibly by the way he was treated/raised, many possibilities). But going off those numbers, he could be 29 or 30ish current Book, if we're going w Sharena being 26 (makes me wonder if his Brave alt is gonna make him look "more mature"... like his portrait always read as young adult to me, but I wonder if he'll be a little less baby faced.)

[baratiddyappreciator]

The Baki Cast Cuddle their S/O on their period (SFW)

I'm on my period and shit sucks so I figured I'd write some very self-indulgent fluff, NSFW post coming up soon for the lads and ladies I swear. Also idk if it's just me but I turn into an outright carnivore when I'm on my period. Chocolate, sure, but like, meat?? Meat snacks??? Gimme that shit.

Baki: His arms were wrapped around your chest, avoiding contact with your stomach entirely, his lips pressing softly against your temple as the corny action movie played on the TV, mostly unwatched as he was busy whispering in your ear about how he was sorry he couldn't do much more than just hold you close for the time-being, but that he promised to get you something tasty for supper, Musashi was somewhere outside, probably lounging in a warm patch of sun on the concrete. You'd never been more jealous of a damn dog before in your entire life. Baki nuzzled the back of your head, gently rubbing at a spot on your hip with the pad of his thumb, trying to soothe any aches and pains that might have settled in before your attention was drawn back to the movie, it looked like the action was finally kicking in. The both of you watched the events unfolding on screen for a moment before he spoke up, tone entirely full of confusion.

"Did... Did that priest just turn into a velociraptor??" He asked in such a tiny vulnerable voice it almost made you want to laugh, but all you could do was nod solemnly. "Dude... That's like, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." And he was right, it really was. "Baby, I want you to know that I love you, even if you can't turn into a velociraptor." He said, before kissing your forehead, leaving you to scoff and roll your eyes in amusement.

Kozue: She sniffled, her box of kleenex practically empty by this point, the both of you snuggled up under her comfy blanket, temples throbbing with the headaches that had come on from crying all day. You didn't even remember why you'd both started crying, but clearly it had been needed. She looked over at you, and reached up to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, sniffling lightly, her eyes red and puffy. The skin on her cheeks was blotchy and tear stained, but she was still so pretty. One of the prettiest people you'd ever laid eyes on, actually. She sniffled again, tears welling up as she cupped both of your face in her hands, bottom lip trembling as she stared deep into your eyes, your own emotions welling up in response.

"Honey you're just so... You're so... You're just so pretty." She blubbered, and like that, you both started crying again, hugging tightly and sobbing messily, though she did pull back, still crying, to look up at you again with a trembling bottom lip. "Why are you crying? Pretty girls like you shouldn't cry!" She sobbed, completely ignoring that she was also a pretty girl and shouldn't cry.

Hanayama: Your back hurt. You'd been complaining about it all day. Your upper back, your lower back, your neck, just your entire back hurt and felt out of whack. But right now? Right now, you were on cloud nine. Hanayama had just given you the most powerful back massage of your life and put a heating pad on your back while you were laying on top of him, his large hands still kneading at your lower back to soothe any remaining aches. You could probably fall asleep right then and there, but something was keeping you awake. Not that you could figure out what it was. Maybe you were laying weird, maybe you were both too warm and too cold at the same time, or maybe it was something else, but you were fairly sure that Hanayama assumed you were dead to the world. He paused in his massaging to rub up and down your back soothingly, not pulling the heat pad off yet, though you knew he would soon to avoid your skin getting burned.

His face leaned up slightly so he could kiss the top of your head, thumbs returning to their slow, gentle massaging of your lower back muscles, a heavy but comfortable silence reigning as sleep desperately clung to the corners of your eyes, your eyelids becoming heavier as you started fading off to sleep. "I love you baby." He mumbled, kissing the top of your head off, and that was just the edge you needed to drift off to sleep.

Chiharu: You'd been laying in the same spot for a few hours now, and he was getting worried. He hesitantly approached, his only line of defense clutched in front of him like a shield. He knew that a blanket and some candies wouldn't necessarily protect him, but it might give him enough time to appease you and check to see if you needed anything. Your head slowly turned as he stepped on a creaky part of the floor, and he smiled nervously as your gaze locked on him, slowly approaching some more. "H-hey doll, I brought you something." He attempted, your eye locked onto him. Was this it? Was this how he was gonna die? Your hand reached out towards him and made lazy grabbing motions, and he had to hide his exhale of relief. That had been a close one.

"I tossed this blanket in the dryer so it's nice and warm for you, and I've got some sweet treats and a nice warm water bottle for your stomach." He said, approaching cautiously to avoid provoking your ire. You were like some sort of horrifying beast, lying in wait, ready to strike. He offered a nervous smile as he gently draped the blanket over you, earning a groan. He softened. "Do you want me to rub your legs baby? You look sore." He offered, the horrifying beast turning back into his sweet beloved, wrapped up in a blanket and needing some serious TLC.

Katsumi: Food. He had food. You knew he had food, he just wasn't giving it to you. The suspicious looks you were shooting at him since he'd come home from his parents place smelling of brownies had him visibly sweating as he busied himself around the apartment. He tried distracting you with blankets, pillows and snacks, even a back rub and a nice hot bath, but the suspicious glaring persisted until you two were getting into bed for the night. He'd stood in the doorway sheepishly, hands held behind his back as he toed at the floor, refusing to meet your gaze. You didn't even need to ask, because he caved in. "I've gotta admit something, and I think you know what it is." Your eyes narrowed further.

"Mom did send me home with brownies." He said, and your glare sharpened, but he raised his hands in surrender. "BUT! But, they're not baked yet. She didn't have time to do that part. I kept trying to find the time to put them in the oven for you, but you kept getting suspicious." He admitted, coming to kneel beside you by the bed. "Can you find a way to forgive me baby? I promise I won't withhold brownies from you ever again." He said sincerely, holding your hand. You couldn't stay mad at that face, now could you?

Jack: He couldn't stand it. You both looked and sounded miserable, laying on the couch, back turned to the outside world, sniffling, coughing and occasionally letting out tiny whimpers and groans. It was like being kicked in the chest by a guy twice his size. So there he was, sitting on the floor, his chin resting on your shoulder as his large hand rubbed up and down your spine as he asked you what he could do for you to ease your discomfort. Pressing tiny kisses to your shoulder, he rumbled as he gently wrapped his arm over your shoulders so he could wipe away a frustrated tear from the corner of your eyes, turning your face slightly so he could kiss your forehead, resuming the gentle back rubs he was giving you.

Your cramps didn't let up easily, however, and you only started crying more in both frustration and pain, leaving him to stand and lean over you, kissing your pounding tembles as he rubbed between your shoulders. "Hey, don't cry sweetheart, I'm right here. I'll make it better for you, I promise." He muttered, walking around to the other side of the couch. "I'll be right back with something to help, you don't need to tough this out on your own." He said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling down at you.

Kosho: It was one of the rare moments where Kosho pulled you into bed and let you get comfortable first, prioritizing your comfort above his, even if it meant that he only had a little bit of mattress left, his fingers rubbing little circles above your stomach to ease the cramping muscles, kissing your temple as he held the blankets close to your chin, practically tucking you in with himself right there. He'd retrieved a glass of cold water for you before, the glass sitting on the bedside table just within reach, the smell of lavender and vanilla emanating from somewhere in the other room, presumably some wax melt he'd put on. He kissed your temples again, arms stilling.

"Well? How are you feeling?" He asked, earning a sleepy hum. "Do you want a snack? A drink?" He continued, not giving you the time to answer before he was kissing your forehead and cheeks. "Just say the words, I can do it for you." He promised, kissing your forehead, only to then notice you reaching for the glass of water and realize that he'd been pinning your arm as you tried to grab the glass for a drink.

Kureha: He'd walked in to find you, a puddle of misery on the couch, disgusting, wet sobs leaving your lips from both the pain and the intensity of the emotions you were feeling. He took one look at the writhing mass of pathetic beneath the blankets and sighed, hanging up his coat and wordlessly walking past you towards the bathroom, and then the kitchen, returning to your side with a cold glass of water in one hand and a few pills in the other, the edges of a pad peeking out of his pocket and a pair of clean pajamas over his shoulder, staring down at you over the rims of his glasses, a brow cocked, waiting for you to acknowledge him. He promptly nodded at your hands. "Hold out your palm." He said, depositing the pills in your palm before he held up the glass of water to your lips. "Take these, they'll help a little with cramps." He ordered, and while you obeyed, he started lifting things out of his pocket.

"You're going to want to get changed into these, they're warm but breathable, and you're going to put this pad on." He ordered, watching you stare up at him, sniffling pathetically. You reminded him of a wet cat. "Don't look at me like that, I can't stop the discomfort, but I can make it easier to deal with." He said, clicking his tongue, a slight flush to his cheeks.

Retsu: The whole house smelled like herbal tea, a spread of meals sat in front of you that you didn't think you could finish if you were given an entire decade. Deserts, sat at the furthest end of the table as Retsu sat behind you, lifting another spoonful of soup to your lips so you didn't have to pull your hands out from beneath the blankets and do it yourself. As a matter of fact, he told you outright that he just wanted to spoil you and make you feel better. This was a bit much, but the soup was delicious. All because he'd noticed a single drop of blood on your underwear. "Come on, eat up! There's plenty of nutrients and vitamins in this soup broth that will help ease your cramps and give you energy!" He said, even though your cramps hadn't even started yet. They hadn't had enough time to start yet.

But when you'd told him that, he'd simply grinned. "The best medicine is prevention, the extra nutrients are good for you regardless." A kiss was pressed against your forehead, the bowl being moved aside and a small desert brought up to you. "Some sweets for my sweet, to lift your mood." He said, and you had to admit it, the man was doing a great job at making you feel better already.

Doppo & Natsue: Doppo hadn't had a daughter, though part of him had always known that he'd be the best girl dad in existence. But now, the two women in his life were suffering through their periods together, and he was about to be beaten into submission by only their harsh glares (pleading glances) and evil demands (requests to come cuddle). He was a karate master though! He was strong! He would resist their evil wiles (Attempts to get him to cuddle for a few minutes because their show has a new episode released)! And yet, he found himself yawning as he dramatically slinked onto the couch, throwing an arm over each of his beloveds, grinning at the both of them roguishly.

"So, how are my two lovely demons today, hm?" He asked, and the glares he got in return sent a chill up his spine. "Hang on, I'm just joking, you know I love you both very much, I'm just trying to lighten the mood." He said, trying to defend himself, but it was too late, as pillows smacked his face from both sides. he was strong, but the two of you were clearly stronger.

Shibukawa: For once, he was being really sweet. Oddly sweet. Suspiciously sweet. You didn't want to trust his gestures of affection as genuine, but you would take them as much as you could. Hot soup, a warm blanket, a gentle back rub. It had all been very sweet as your cramps caused you more and more discomfort. You couldn't understand why he was being so sweet until you opened the bedroom closet to find that the shelving units had all collapsed, leaving clothes and your pads to spill out all over the floor at your feet. He could hear the wooden frame crack beneath your grip, his smile staying in place as you turned around, some hulking, frightening beast full of rage. He should have just come clean about the shelf having fallen before you woke up.

"Now now, no need to get upset, I'll clean it all up and fix it, I promise!" He said passively, sipping at his tea as you slowly approached. "You don't have to lift a finger to clean up the mess, I'll take care of all of it, I promise." He said calmly. Of course, he didn't want to mention that he'd been plotting a prank the entire morning and hadn't realized that you'd be getting your period. He simply sat, arms outstretched for a hug, hoping to lure you into a cuddle so he could claim it was an accident so you wouldn't bite his head off.

[antariies]

how to build a chair........... director's cut ∠( ᐛ 」∠)__ this is about to be a very long very self-indulgent post where i just talk about my own writing. i also doodled on all the pages i think it makes the whole thing more fun to go thru. welcome to my ted talk

SIKE before i begin. credit where credit is due, this post was the start of it all. it changed my brain chemistry my jaw was dropped i was in awe i was obsessed and before i even finished it i knew that i would eventually have to make something similar for the commander or else i would be cursed to think about it for the rest of my life. and i Was cursed for like two years every day i would just be like........ is today the day i sit down and draft the commander chair fic of my dreams....... maybe tomorrow......

and then i got accepted as a writer for the gw2 zine ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ the chair idea was actually my backup option in case my first idea didn't pan out, and thank god it didn't, bc this one worked so much better. (still working on my initial idea, just turning it into a full fic! it was wayyy too long to be a zine submission.)

this is the chair i used. i downloaded the assembly instructions and tried out a bunch of different free pdf editors until i found one i liked, which ended up being sedja. if anyone's interested in doing something like this, i recommend printing out the pdf and writing directly on it! it was a lot easier for me to just figure out everything on paper first and then digitalize it after :P here's a picture of my physical copy

okay actually getting into it for real this time !!!!!

1. yeah i could've just erased the ikea logo and left a blank space but then i realized i could turn it into an in-universe joke. and then i ran with it.

2. i ripped this straight from the product description on the website. thanks ikea

3. i'm not sure if anyone went and looked it up, but it's a real item code!

hehe :3c

4. if your commander willingly goes to therapy i'm happy for them but TO ME? you'd have to drag the commander kicking and screaming. it's not that they don't know that something is wrong with them, they know, and they know YOU know. you're just never supposed to talk about it. they don't look at their own psych eval results bc that's none of their business.

5. i normally avoid specifying the commander's race when i write them bc i enjoy the challenge, but for the zine i was assigned to write about a norn commander! as a human main i was uhhhh very ill-equipped. but that just meant i had to study up on my norn lore (•̀ᴗ•́)و i spent hours on the wiki, then went around interviewing norn mains for their opinions, which was great fun :D it all helped me narrow the focus of my piece: joining the war on commander objectification on the side of commander objectification (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ and no one self-aggrandizes quite like the norn commander!

and to balance that i knew my narrator had to be patronizing as shitttt. they've clearly been following the commander since the beginning and seem to know a lot of intimate details about their life, despite not thinking very highly of them. wonder who that could be :3c

6. i can't stop making references. so the original part number is actually #122620 in the manual but i've changed it here (and on the previous page!) to #082812, as in 08/28/12, the date gw2 was released! no real reason for it, @dalennaugw suggested it for funsies and i liked it. if you're my pal and i show you a wip and you have a cool idea for it, chances are i Will put that shit in. hi dale if you're reading this

7. another thing about me. i loveeee repetition. here the word "over" is repeated four times to match the picture. honestly a lot of the creative process for this piece was just staring at the pages and figuring out how to tie the pictures to the commander in ways that weren't extremely corny or trite. idk why i enjoy writing like this when i could be frolicking in the beautiful prosaic meadows of a word doc instead but. it's like i see a tiny little restrictive box and i'm like OH BOY can't wait to think inside of that thing!!! i like when the format matters just as much as the content and in some cases informs the content. am i making any sense here. well all you need to know is that i'm a virgo and my favorite book is house of leaves

7. aw fuck just realized i wrote 7 twice. whatever i'm not changing it this is 7 part two now. the theme of my piece is glory, what it means to the norn commander, and how far they're willing to go for it.

8. does norn culture place emphasis on seeking individual glory Yes are norn also very community-oriented Also Yes. i think it's common to see norn kids napping together in a big pile, usually after they've worn themselves out playing games outside. it makes sense practically (apes together warm) and socially (pack bonding good) but that's just my hc. growing up i used to share a bed with my cousins all the time so it's normal to me.

a young, naive not-yet-commander, with no real combat experience, has no point of reference to compare a "blaze of glory" to. but the way everyone talks about it, it must be a good thing. a wonderful thing. a reward fit for a life well-fought and a legend hard-earned. so they imagine it must feel like falling asleep surrounded by the people they love, who love them in turn.

9. .........i was playing a lot of ace attorney when i wrote this page. i wish i was joking 👍🏼

10. ohhh shit the truth come OUT this whole chair thing was all a ploy just so i could write about the departing. again.

will i ever stop thinking about her. reply hazy, try again later.

11. out of all the pages, this one has the most emphasis on text placement, like comparing the enlarged picture of the screw to a sword, the numbers counting the screws, and "up up up" being arranged to mimic a wisp of smoke.

i also wanted to lean into the viking/norse mythology influences with my word choice.

12. more nods to norn culture. i didn't know they referred to the six human gods as "spirits of action" until i was doing the research for this piece :O

and the domain of the lost is called a hall of ghosts....... cause valhalla.....

13.

i'm sorry this so funnyyy. SAYS the guy who literally clawed their way back to life for a rematch.

me when i'm in a sore loser competition and my opponent is the COMMANDER!!!

14. arms as in "limbs" and also arms as in "armaments" :•]

15. haha get it because the picture makes it look like there are two mirrored speech bubbles while the text paints two opposing interpretations of the norn commander. one that's selfless and humble versus one that's selfish and vainglorious.

16. and the best part is IT DOESN'T MATTER which one is true bc at the end of the day no matter what their motivation, balthazar is dead by their hand. ofc i'm of the opinion that the most compelling interpretation of the commander is both, simultaneously. contradictions are good for the soul.

17. i could've name-dropped kas, the only person present that would do something like that, but i felt it was better to leave it ambiguous.

18. low-hanging fruit. the metaphor was so obvious here but i had to do it. for the culture

19. the alternate title for this piece was "THIS COULD BE GLORY". "how to build a chair" was only supposed to be a placeholder title til i figured out a better one, but the innocuousness of it grew on me. also i came up with the other one too late and had already advertised under the chair title lol

20. my first instinct was to end it with something more reassuring, like "what you have built so far is enough" but that would've been an ooc switch-up for a narrator who has been nothing but snide and detached this whole time. gotta stick to my guns

21.

obligatory chair joke as the last line. for realsies though it’s meant to be an earnest appeal to the commander to take a break, to have a seat, but it’s also a challenge. are they willing to lean on their friends? are the bonds they’ve forged strong enough to hold their weight? are they willing to put their faith in someone else’s hands? are they brave enough to try? well. only one way to find out.

also guess what that wasn’t even the real last page of the manual. it's THIS

but no way i was letting this be the image we ended on. IT LOOKS LIKE A DICK AND BALLS!!!

and on that note, THANK YOU if you made it this far!! a very special shout-out to @hawkepockets, my lovely boyfriend and beta reader, without whom this piece would not be nearly as polished. i would bring him pages to look over and he would say Scrap half of those lines you can do better than that. kill your darlings. i would complain and argue for a few minutes then we would revise. rinse and repeat until we had honed this thing to perfection. i can't stress enough the importance of having a second pair of eyes on your work throughout your creative process, even better if it's someone who challenges you. i don't even pay him 🫶🏼

and if there was anything i didn't cover that you still have questions about, please feel free to shoot me an ask! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ thanks for reading! see u later dudes ;P

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

66

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”  

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm. 

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?” 

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.  

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over. 

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now. 

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention. 

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.” 

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”