#a lot of balls bouncing and eyes blinking are being made

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 3)

This chapter is mainly Baby (Beom) oriented!) THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT! I think this ones a little longer!(my tag list IS closed but you can follow the post in order to receive updates on when i make edits!! So sorry!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 part 5 Part 6 Part 7

To Y/N��s surprise, the Saja Boys were actually a talented bunch. Although, she wasn’t sure how much of it was raw talent or made by demonic power. 

The tired girl had finished up the lyrics, allowing Baby and Romance to write with her. She had ingrained into them that, if they used their fake charm on her, she would withdraw her offer and leave them to rot. Y/N despised flattery, it was a candy trail for those, foolish enough to pick up a piece of poisoned candy.

‘Huh, you really make it obvious. “Gotta drink every drop.”? I might as well tell them I'm a demon.’ Jinu sneered, with his hand over one headphone as he listened to the demo Y/N had drafted. His words, however sharp, bounced off Y/N as she noticed a small detail in Jinu’s behaviour.

‘Your shoulders are dancing.’ Y/N grinned cheekily, her chin resting on her balled fist.

‘I didn’t say it was bad.’ Jinu grumped, bopping his head to the beat. ‘Abel was right, you do have talent.’

‘Why thank you Jinu.’

‘Y/N?’ A voice called out, ‘For the rap, can you help me with some of my lyrics?’ Baby grasped Y/N’s hand delicately, as if unsure.

‘Hm? Yeah.’ Y/N slipped out of her chair, inconspicuously removing her fingers from Baby’s grip. She wasn’t sure how much of him was actually shy, and the other just a sarcastic mock of the industry’s infantilisation of idols.

‘Let me know if you want anything changed, Jinu.’ Y/N patted the older man on the shoulder quickly before moving over to sit with the youngest of the bunch. 

Jinu watched on with a familiar feeling in his chest.

Envy.

Greed.

Jinu blinked, quickly jerking his gaze away from Y/N and his youngest friend. Was he jealous? What for? His eyes narrowed, sneaking a glance at the pair again.

Y/N and Baby, were leaned over Y/N’s notebook, chattering animatedly. Baby, actually seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

‘Hey, wait, these are actually really good, kid!’ Y/N laughed, ruffling the hair of the youngest. The boy in return grumbled, red cheeked, battering Y/N’s hand away.

‘I’m over two hundred years old.’ He slumped over, laying his head on the cool marble table.

‘Huh, y’know sometimes I forget.’ She mused, looking at Baby’s now messy hair. 

‘Is this actually you writing or you guys using your powers.’

‘I was a poet before I took a deal with Gwi-ma. My name was Beom.’ He hummed, looking at the notebook, tapping the pen on his cheek.

‘I see! It really shows. You have really good flow as well.’ Y/N smiled, leaning back, forgetting that the stool had no backing.

‘Watch it.’ Jinu’s arm wrapped around her waist securely. His gaze was… conflicted? When did he move from the set up to the kitchen table?

Jinu was stuck between wanting her to fall and wanting to wrap her up to keep her safe. He could feel the heat of her skin through her thin shirt.

‘Holy crap, thanks Jinu. I forgot about these chairs. I don’t usually sit here, I don’t really have people over a lot.’ Y/N’s sentence drifted off, as she realised how sad that sentence sounded.

‘I mean, you’ll be stuck with us for a while.’ Beom smiled nervously, looking at the girl with hopeful eyes.

‘Yeah, this song will take me less than three days. I mean, look at your writing! It’s been less than two hours and you’re already almost done with your lyrics!’ Y/N praised, forgetting for a split moment that she was talking to a demon.

‘Thanks Y/N.’ Beom beamed, standing up and gathering his notes. ‘I’m going to go practice with the music!’

‘Alrighty kid, let me know if you need anything.’ Y/N called, watching the man’s blue hair bounce slightly as he ran over to join Romance, Mystery, and Abel.

‘Why are you pretending to be nice to them?’ Jinu sounded irritated, his voice was filled with aggression. 

‘Huh? I’m not pretending to be nice. In fact, I actively claim to be a rude and disagreeable person.’ Y/N crossed her arms, at his accusatory tone. Why was he being so rude to her? He was at least somewhat nice to Rumi in the movie. Maybe, even kind.

‘Yeah well, I can see that.’ Jinu bit back, staring at her with a similar stance.

‘Look Jinu, I don’t know what your problem is, but I'm helping you at the moment so the least you can do is be nice to me. Or in the least, be agreeable.’ She spun around, picking up her note book and standing. ‘I get that I’m not pretty like the rest of Huntr/x but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad when you treat me differently.’

‘Who said I thought you weren’t pretty?’ He frowned, looking confused. ‘I’m an asshole, not blind.’ 

Y/N  waved him off, seemingly seeing through his lie.

‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere. I’m not stupid Jinu. All I’m saying is, you don’t have to hate me.’

‘But I-’ 

‘Let's go over the lyrics. Is there anything you want me to change? Do you want line distribution done by you or by me?’ Y/N picked up a pen, changing the topic so quickly it almost gave Jinu whiplash.

‘Uh…’

‘Well, Jinu was a singer before we became like this. He should have the most lines.’ Abel hummed, leaning over Y/N’s shoulder. 

‘I think we can take care of line distribution. Did you wanna change anything?’ Abel smiled as he continued. ‘I think we’re ready to record!’

Y/N nodded at the taller man before turning to look back at Jinu.

‘Is there anything you wanted me to look at Jinu? Or did you wanna start recording?’ Y/N tilted her head, a habit she had picked up from leaning to listen to Bobby ramble during loud Huntr/x concerts.

‘No, they look good. Let's start recording.’ Jinu looked at the hand that Abel had placed on the small of Y/N’s back, guiding her towards her set up. Why did he feel heat spreading through his chest? An uncomfortable burning that set him aflame with this... resentment. 

--

The recording lasted only two other hours, but the mixing and mastering lasted the rest of the night. Y/N ended up with eyebags and heavy eyelids as she finished up using her pitch corrector and adjusting the mixer levels to be within industry standards. She slumped down the back of her chair as she pressed export, sending it to be downloaded onto her desktop.

‘ ‘m done.’ She mumbled, closing her eyes as she slid off her noise cancelling headphones. The boys had decided to stay in her apartment to figure out the choreography. Of course, being demons meant they didn’t have to sleep so they actually could spend hours upon hours doing whatever suited them.

Honestly though, Y/N was surprised that they actually came up with their own choreography. She had thought it was just some spell the demons had cast to make it easier. 

‘Wow, that was fast!’ Romance commented.

‘Can we hear it?’ Mystery asked, leaning to rest his forearms on Y/N’s seat from above.

‘Mm.’ Y/N mumbled laying her head on her crossed arms and ignored the boys. She was getting too old for these all-nighters. She could feel the youth drain out of her body as she closed her eyes. 

‘Oh oh! Me first!’ She could hear the boys squabbling over who got to hear the finalised version first. The voices began to drown out, as Y/N drifted into a silent sleep. Blocking out the noise from the conscious world. Whenever she overworked, she tended to pass out completely rendering her useless to the rest of the world. Not even alarm clocks would wake her up. Several times, Bobby had to come into her apartment and rouse her from sleep. It was why he had a spare key card. He wanted to make sure Y/N was alive during the weeks where they were preparing for a new album.

‘Be quiet.’ Jinu hushed the group, looking at Y/N, hearing her slowed, steady breaths. 

‘She’s asleep. Y/N’s been working on this the whole night.’ He said slowly, eyes tracing over her slowly rising shoulders.

‘Right. Should we leave her here or?’ Beom kneeled down to look up at Y/N’s sleeping face. He made a mental note of how Y/N’s eyelashes fluttered when her eyes moved behind her closed lids.

‘I’ll carry her back to her room. Keep practicing the choreo, just make sure you’re quiet.’  Jinu kneeled, delicately slipping his hands under Y/N’s knees and wrapping a protective arm around her neck. He stood with little effort, his demon strength aiding him in carrying Y/N.

He nudged a door open, decorated with sound proofing foam with his foot, peeking around to see if it were her room. He hummed in amusement, spotting pages of writing on the floor, scattered in a semi readable pattern.

‘So you’re a work-aholic, huh?’ He whispered, laying Y/N down on her back. The room was relatively clean despite the lyric sheets scattered on the floor. It looked like she spent more time in her set up than in her room.

Y/N groaned, as she rolled over in the bed, hunching over.

‘Cold?’ Jinu mumbled, shifting Y/N’s legs so he could grab the comforter and lay it over the sleeping girl. He watched as Y/N’s face smoothed, relaxing under the light pressure of her blanket. 

A rush of warmth.

What? Since when did he feel anything but rage and shame. He had feelings, but none of them ever felt so…

So tranquil, as if it were lulling him into a gentle embrace.

No.

He didn’t have time for that. Jinu needed his memories gone so he could move on with his life. He was sure that he could find a way to leave Gwi-ma’s hold, he just had to get past his first hurdle. 

‘Who cares if you’re pretty or not. I’m not shallow enough to think that’s what matters.’ He muttered, turning around before pausing. 

‘And I never said you weren’t pretty.’ He added, before stepping quietly out of the room. Jinu returned to the living room after closing Y/N’s door, watching his friends practice their new choreography.

‘Is she asleep?’ Mystery asked, pausing the music as he spotted Jinu stalking back towards them with a sour face.

‘Yeah, let’s get to work.’ Jinu nodded, taking his position in the formation. ‘Abel did you figure out the entire dance?’

‘That's right.’ Abel looked proud, his thumb pointing toward his chest. ‘Y’think Y/N will like it?’ 

‘She doesn’t have to like it. It’s about whether or not the people will. We’re stealing the fans.’

‘I think it would be nice if Y/N also liked the dance.’ Beom rolled his eyes, sassing the leader.

‘She isn’t important. We’re just using her to make sure we can steal Huntr/x’s fans and get Gwi-ma his souls.’ Jinu stated firmly, As if trying to convince himself of his own statement. He pressed play, resuming the music on the computer.

‘There's no need to be mean about it.’ The purple haired man hummed, before falling into position with the rest of the group.

‘Enough. We have two days left to have this choreo down. Let's start rehearsing.’

A soft melody of whistling, and popfunk synth filled the night, accompanied by shuffling footsteps and quiet singing. Y/N remained fast asleep as the boys practiced well into the morning, each man making sure to be as quiet as possible to keep from waking their new producer and writer. 

-

Y/N winced as she stretched her complaining joints, creaking in protest. She sat up, rubbing her sleep filled eyes, looking around at the new scenery. Huh, she was in her room. Last she remembered, she was laying her head down on her desk after finishing Soda Pop. The tired girl roused herself from the bed, shrugged on a random jumper and opened her door.

A soft whump as the boys landed on their feet into their ending pose.

‘Huh, that's lookin’ good!’ Y/N cocked her head, an approving smile lighting up her face. ‘Wanna show me the number from the top?’ 

Pressing play, Y/N watched the boys easily slide into their beginning poses and begin their song from the top. It was extremely impressive, the way Jinu’s voice was almost an exact one to one of the recording. His stage presence was evident, even in her very own living room. Mystery had an incredibly sweet voice, whilst Romance had a round, upbeat one. Coupled with Beom’s deep voice and Abel’s boyish charm, the group meshed into a force to be reckoned with.

Huntr/x really did have some competition. But Y/N was sure that she would be able to figure out a way to stop Gwi-ma from slipping through the Honmoon. 

She’d find a way.

‘Thoughts?’ Jinu grinned, his chest heaving from exertion. 

‘If you guys weren’t trying to take over the world, I’d actually consider taking you on as personal clients.’ Y/N smirked, turning around to switch off the music. 

‘A couple more times and I think you guys have it down to perfection.’ She laughed, turning her chair to open up her browser.

‘Watcha doing?’ Beom walked over, dragging another gaming chair with him. Y/N kept several of those for whenever she had HUntr/x over.

‘I’m gonna send you guys the file so you can upload it. That way you can also have it in your respective phones.’ Y/N hummed, logging into her email.

‘What's your email?’ 

A pause.

‘Do you guys even have phones?’ Y/N blinked, turning back to face the boys.

‘Yeah, here I’ll give you mine, Beom nodded enthusiastically, putting his phone on the table in front of Y/N. 

‘Alrighty Beom, I’ll send it over to you. After this, I’m going to get breakfast. Are you guys gonna go home?’ Y/N clicked away on her screen, typing in the details of Beom’s email.

‘We’ll get breakfast for you.’ Mystery called out, already walking away towards the elevator. The rest of the boys besides Beom walked towards the door.

‘Beom will stay here with you.’ Jinu clarified, walking towards the door that led to the stairs.

‘Hey Abel, do you think you could out run me on the stairs while I took the elevator?’ Jinu struck up a challenge in a prodding tone.

A challenge that Abel jumped on.

‘Oh, you’re on.’ Abel flung open the door and rushed down the stairs. The pattering off feet on stairs diminished slowly, echoing off the stairwell.

Jinu however, strolled leisurely back to the elevator door and pushed the button. He met Y/N’s confused stare with a confident smile and said, 

‘He's the biggest one and I wanted more space. Y’know how it goes.’ He walked into the elevator doors as they opened, whilst Romance and Mystery gave small chuckles, shaking their heads.

‘We’ll see you soon Y/N.’ Romance waved as the doors closed.

The girl slowly side-eye'd Beom and pressed send on the email she had written.

‘So, is there anything else you wanted me to do?’ Y/N spun around in her chair lazily, allowing the inertia of her spinning chair to keep her entertained.

‘No not really. Although, I do want to say that, I saw another song in your notebook.’ Beom’s eyes followed Y/N’s spinning figure.

‘Wait what?’ Y/N slammed her hands on the table, grasping at her notebook.

‘Did you write that for us?’ Beom’s tone was inquisitive.

And there it was. The back bone of ‘Your Idol’ written out in the notebook. When had she written this?

‘I… It’s not finished.’ She gazed into the book, as if in a trance. 

‘It looks pretty cool! I hope that I can hear it one day.’ Beom shrugged, leaning back on his chair.

‘So, a poet huh? What made you choose that path?’ Y/N closed her notebook, setting it aside. She wanted to change the subject, and fast. ‘Your Idol’ wasn’t meant to be written already and if she were being honest, she wanted to avoid the story plot advancing to that stage.

‘Yeah, my father was a court official in the palace. They wanted me to become a scholar and follow his footsteps.’ His eyes were glazed over, staring out the glass window.

‘Yet, all I wanted to do was write. I wanted to make words flow into a beautiful stream, to be read and understood by all.’ He continued, smiling slightly before his eyes came back into focus.

‘But my father disapproved.’ Beom's gaze hardened and his jaw was set.

‘He wanted me to be just like him. A cunning, snivelling leach who kissed the feet of the emperor. So I took a deal with Gwi-ma. That I’d give him my soul and in return, I would be a well known writer, famous enough to sustain myself and my mother.’ Beom’s hands were clutched in tight fists.

‘And so?’ Y/N prompted cautiously, leaning over, elbows on her knees, resting her head on her open palms.

‘It was amazing at first. People paid to hear my poems, they came from all over the country. But then the patterns started. And they kept spreading until Gwi-ma took me into the underworld.’ Beom’s patterns flashed, his form glitching for a split second into his true image.

‘He took you?’ 

‘Yes. Just like he took Jinu and the rest of the boys. I guess he wanted to use us somehow. Gwi-ma always takes back the favours he’s owed. It’s part of the reason we’re here.’ Beom sighed, shaking his head as if to clear away thoughts, clouding his mind.

‘But even here, we can still hear him. Telling us we aren’t enough. That we deserve nothing and that without him, we’d be rotting in the dirt.’ Beom smiled bitterly, looking up at Y/N through his lashes.

‘Well that's simply untrue.’ Y/N laughed, sliding her chair closer to Beom’s side.

‘I think you would have been successful, even if you didn’t take that deal. I mean look at your own writing! I’m a harsh critic, trust me. But you wrote these lyrics in such little time and they’re actually good!’ Y/N gently placed a hand over Beom’s shoulder, in a comforting motion. 

A spark. 

Just like before.

A jolt of white blue electricity, emanating from her fingertips into Beom’s skin, Illuminating his patterns. Y/N slowly took her hand away, watching the boy’s patterns rippled, amalgamating with the white blue light.

‘How did you…’ Beom stood abruptly, splaying his hands, flexing his fingers. ‘My patterns, they… You made them shine.’ He looked utterly stunned.

‘Um… I don’t know?-’

‘My head!’ Beom raised a shaky hand toward his forehead. ‘I can’t hear him. I can’t hear Gwi-ma. How is that possible?’ His eyes snapped to Y/N, yet there was not an ounce of malice in his gaze.

‘I’m still me, but I can’t hear him! Do you think he could still call me back? Does he still have control over me? I have GOT to tell the others.’ Beom hurriedly pulled out his phone, typing away a message possibly to a groupchat of the Saja Boys.

‘No, wait. Don’t’ Y/N grasped at Beom’s wrist. ��You can’t tell them. If Jinu finds out, he won’t be happy.’ She reasoned, whilst lowering Beom’s hand.

‘That's true… He still wants his memories erased. You’re right.’ Beom nodded, sitting back down, placing his phone back in his pocket.

‘But how did you do it? Is it permanent?!’ He rambled on eagerly, like a puppy that had just found a new toy.

‘I’m not sure honestly. I mean, I was meant to be a hunter but… I can’t manifest a weapon. Maybe it has something to do with that?’ Y/N raised one eyebrow, turning her hands to splay her palms. She scrutinized each line on her palm, wondering if she could control whatever it was.

‘Well whatever, I’ll keep your secret Y/N.’ Beom softly wrapped his hands around Y/N’s and lifted her left hand. ‘Just promise me you won’t think too badly about Jinu?’

Y/N looked up, bewildered at the sudden mention of Jinu.

‘He’s not actually a bad person. He just… He wants to forget his mistakes. I know it seems selfish but it’s been four hundred years. Jinu barely talks to us about it. I think that's what’s slowly eating away at him.’ Beom explained, releasing Y/N’s hand and leaning back on his chair.

‘I think he just has to accept his actions. But it’s easier said than done. His mistake cost him his family. The rest of us didn’t actually leave anything behind, so we don’t understand how he feels.’ Beom continued, shrugging his shoulders. ‘It doesn’t help that he hears Gwi-ma the most. He’s been with Gwi-ma the most often so Jinu’s already so heavily under that old man's influence.’ 

‘I see.’ Y/N let out a short snort. ‘But I don’t think he’s going to talk about it with me to be honest. He very clearly hates me.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Beom looked floored, as if this were a new revelation.

‘Um, hello? He insults me whenever he sees an opportunity? He never smiles around me and lets not mention that he accused me of being fake.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, slumping down in her chair.

‘Jinu’s just like that. He’s blunt and prickly, but that's how he protects himself, and us. But, Y/N I think, he doesn’t hate you. He genuinely thinks you're talented! And, he was the first one by your side when you collapsed last night on the street.’

‘Huh..’ 

‘Yep! Jinu doesn’t hate you.’

Y/N was about to retort as the elevator dinged happily, the doors revealing three of the boys, the same ones as before.

‘Huh, where’s-’

‘AH HAH.’ Abel cried out, flinging the stairwell door open. ‘See? I can make it up the stairs at the same time. I'M A BEAST.’ 

‘Oh honey…’ Y/N stifled a chuckle behind her fist.

Part 4

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[hey-itsdollie]

Hey dollie;pp i AM IN LOVE WITH U acc s o muxh... Im telling u when i saw that u did my req(the date prank thing) i was actually going crazy.. MIND U i was in school when i requested that and i was still in school when u posted it my friends were NEXT TO ME when i was scraching my desk and smiling like crazy at my phoneꈍᴗꈍ ꈍᴗꈍ dw they get it there were no side eyes

Also.. Shall i req something else [blink][hehe][flushed]

Im so in love with the hc format bc im in love with multiple bllk guys

What about how bllk boys would react to reader who has cuteness aggression?? Like reader (PLAYFULLY AND SLOW) slaps their face or other parts of their body, pinches their cheeks or their stomach sides (iykyk) or maybe even bites them:DD

Characters i had in mind: the same as last time [greedy] + raichi ALSO if u dont wanna write for some ppl no worries u can skip a few :33 its rlly up to u

Cuteness Aggression ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Ommgggg Raichiiii, so excited to make this!!! Thank you for the request<3

‧₊˚ ┊Blue Lock Boys with girlfriend that has cuteness aggression!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » isagi. bachira. barou. gagamaru. chigiri. kunigami. ness. raichi.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ cuteness aggression (kissing, lightly hitting, biting, etc) , female reader, fluff, pet names (love, hübsche, sweetie, sweet girl, darling, babe, birdie), aged up!

── .✦ Yoichi Isagi

"Literally! Then the ball went bam! Babe you have no idea how hyped I was with that goal."

You sat in across your boyfriend in bed, playing with his hands as he retold you every detail and thought he had during his match from earlier.

His grin bright, his cheeks slightly sore from how much he was smiling. Isagi's hands moved in the air, something he did a lot when he spoke or got excited about something. You smiled watching him be so enthusiastic.

"Yeah? It was a pretty awesome goal." you noted, his eyes getting brighter as if your words were the assurance he needed to continue his rambling.

"God it was great seeing the faces of the other players. Like-" Isagi stopped as he realized how he was quite literally about to jump off the bed and start reenacting the game. He chuckled, rubbing his nape bashfully. "Well it was a pretty good game..." he smiled embarrassed.

You couldn't take it anymore as you laughed and pounced on him both of you falling against the matress, your hands messing up his hair quickly.

"God you're so cute!" you whined as he blushed deeply.

Even though Isagi was used to this your compliments and aggressive affection it always made him flustered. "Babe..." he muttered his hands coming to your hips as he held you on top of him. You sat straddling his abdomen, your hands move just grabbing and moving along the sides of his head.

Soft compliments and groans left your lips as you continued your affectionate gestures.

"I love you so much..." You whined cupping his cheeks and squishing his face.

── .✦ Meguru Bachira

You bounced on your feet, rocking slightly as you stood waiting for your boyfriend to arrive at the meeting place. He was finally being let out of blue lock for a bit.

After months of barely any contact, only through short conversations through text or brief phone calls; you were extremely excited to be reunited with him.

Your eyes brightened as you saw Bachira walking out of the building surrounded by his newly made friends. "Meguru!" You called running up to him and tackling him to the ground.

His friends froze watching you two laughing and rolling around on the ground.

"I missed you so much Birdie!" Bachira exclaimed hugging you tightly as you two rolled around in each other's arms.

"Can you two get off the ground!" Barou yelled as he walked out of the building. A glare permanently on his face right as he saw the couple of the ground.

Bachira and you got up quickly laughing, almost attached by the hip.

"Oh oh guys meet my girlfriend! I told you she was real!" the brunette claimed with a bright grin. The males all looked somewhat shocked that all the stories about Bachira having a girlfriend turned out to be real.

"Birdie! They all thought you werea figment of my imagination!" Bachira whined waving his hands around. You nodded quickly with a frown almost just as enthusiastically. "What no way!"

Bachira's friends couldn't believe there were two Bachiras. One was enough, but two? That's far too many.

Quickly the guys walked off leaving the couple alone.

Bachira and you jerked and pulled at each other as the two of your caught up. "No way! You kicked him in the face?!" you shouted as your boyfriend nodded quickly tugging your hand in excitement.

"Yeah, it was crazy!"

── .✦ Shoei Barou

Barou watched as you held your cat in your arms. Violently placing kisses around the cat's face. "You're so cute!" you chanted after each kiss.

"Poor cat..." he muttered shaking his head.

He was happy he wasn't in the cat's place like usual. Even though he secretly enjoyed your advancements.

You stopped your actions raising your head to stare at him. "Huh? What do you want?" he questioned his eyebrow raising. You smiled innocently at him as you set the cat down on the ground.

"Don't even think about it, Y/n." Barou glared at you. But his words fell on deaf ears.

You jumped on him making Barou groan, your hands grabbed his face his hands planted on your wrists to stop you. "No, don't even think about it!"

You laughed leaning down and placing kisses around his face.

Surprisingly Barou just kind of laid there taking your onslaught. "See you like it!" you laughed making him huff in reply. "Shut up, you done yet?"

"Never!" You broke from his grasp and moved his head around as you continued to aggressively kiss his face and head.

"You're such a brat!" the male groaned his hands picking you up and throwing you off him. "Hey no fair!"

"There you go whining some more." Barou scoffed sitting up against the bed's headboard. "I am not whining." you frowned crossing your arms.

"You are, liar." He rolled his eyes avoiding your gaze knowing you were pouting. "For the love of everything stop pouting!" he shouted covering his face.

"I'm not pouting!" you reply scoffing.

Barou grabbed you quickly and wrapped his arms around you.

"Teehee, knew you'd give in softy~" you tease placing more quick kisses on his face as he gave in to you.

"Whatever you're still a brat..."

── .✦ Gin Gagamaru

"Gin! Gin! Look!" You repeatedly hit your boyfriend's arm lightly, as your free hand pointed at the bear in the zoo enclosure.

Your silent boyfriend watched the animal, his large eyes not leaving the animal as his hand took your hand into his stopping you from hitting him.

"I could fight it..."

He muttered making you gasp looking up at him as other guests around you two looked at him oddly. "You can't just say those things!"

"But I could."

You then dragged him to the next exhibit. "Oh! Aw look at the lions!" you gasped happily, tugging on his arm.

You gasped as Gagamaru picked you up easily placing you to sit on his shoulders. You smiled your hands tapping his head as you got a better view of the animals.

"Gin, let's go see the pandas!"

Gagamaru nodded silently walking through the park to find the panda exhibit. You smiled as the two fo you got to the pandas.

"Awe Gin they look like you!" You laughed leaning down and kissing his forehead, whilst hitting your hands slightly on his hands. His grip tightened on your thighs so he wouldn't drop you.

"Calm down a bit, I don't want to drop you..." he spoke out making you stop and sit up. "Right sorry Gin."

Even though you stopped for the moment the rest of the trip was filled with you excitedly hitting him and nudging him. You even bit his scarred ear once.

Let's just say Gagamaru didn't let you back up on his shoulders for the rest of the day.

── .✦ Hyoma Chigiri

You and Chigiri were cuddling. His hands were gently running up and down your arm as it was peaceful.

You glanced at him, which didn't go unnoticed by him as he turned to face you. "What is it sweetie?"

Your eyes softened as you moved your hands and pulling closer your lips attaching to his collarbone, kissing one spot aggressively. The male sighed as you did this quite often. Yet, it was always random.

In his eyes you were like a cat, your pupils would get wide and just attack him with affection.

He watched you sit up on him as your hands ran up and down his abdomen, his body moving uncontrollably as you tickled him. "Hey Y/n stop! No!" he gasped out as you laughed and continued to tickle him.

He firmly took a hold of your hips as you reached for a pillow and hit him with it.

"Good lord, what has come over you!" he panted as his sides felt sore from your tickling. His body flipped the two of you over as he now laid on top of you.

"Noooo get off!" you whined as you hit his sides. Chigiri scoffed, "Like hell I am! you need to be detained!"

"No I don't! I'm not a criminal!"

"You are one now."

"What! Hyoma- wait no!" You squealed as he began to tickle you for payback.

"Stop no Hyoma!"

You laughed tears coming to your eyes as he continued to move him hands on you. "Please I'm sorry!" You giggled your hands gripping his wrists trying to pry his hands off.

── .✦ Rensuke Kunigami

"Uhm what are you doing?"

Your boyfriend gazed down at you as your lips were attached to his bicep. He could feel your teeth against his skin.

"You're into biting now? I was gone for a few months and this is what I come back to?" he questioned in deep confusion. Kunigami watched as his girlfriend continued to just bite his bicep in different areas.

You would sit up and flash a grin at him before going back to biting his muscles.

"I can't help it! Look at you! Your whole body has grown since I last saw you!" You exclaimed your hands semi roughly ran over his arms and chest feeling out his muscles.

They came to a stop at his shoulders as you leaned down and placed several kisses on his lips repeatedly.

Your hands raised somewhat vibrating in the air around his face as you whined softly. "Just look at you!"

Kunigami was confused but just let you do your thing, even if you looked some what crazy. "Uh, is there something on my face?" he questioned cluelessly.

His cluelessness made you let out a groan throwing your face into his chest. "God why are you so cute?! How did I get this lucky!"

The ginger just gazed at you, his hands awkwardly patting your back.

His actions just led you crashing out even more.

Poor guy...

── .✦ Alexis Ness

Ness laid inbetween your legs as your combed through his hair.

But the catch was that with each pet, your got more aggressive. His head leaned back as you pushed your hand through his soft hair. "You're adorable Alexis..."

You whined as your hands went all over his face as he grinned enjoying your touch.

He was as weird if not weirder than you when it came to his obsession type of affection. You two both had cuteness aggression towards each other which made the two of you a perfect match.

"hübsche..."

Ness got up and laid on top of you, his face burried into your neck as he bit at your skin. "Alexis..." You laugh as he left mark after mark along your nape.

Repeatedly he mumbled "I love you's" almost as if he was trying to cast a spell on you.

"You're so beautiful, I love you so much" Ness raised head looking into your eyes, his eyes seemingly in a drunken haze. Your hands grabbed his face, tapping his sheeks as a wide smile grew on your face.

You leaned in kissing his lips, pulling away to see his hooded eyes.

"Awe!" You cheered pulling him into your arms hugging him tightly. He felt you kiss his head repeatedly, kissing so many times he lost count.

── .✦ Jingo Raichi

Your boyfriend wasn't the most affectionate. He came off as high strung, sharp tongued, and aggressive. He got easily annoyed by others.

And do to his low tolerance it was a shock to even himself that he could handle you. His super affectionate girlfriend who doesn't mind his little outbursts. "Jingo have you ever thought of biting?" you ask sitting on his abdomen.

"Huh?" He looked up at you as if you grew two heads. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you just seem like a biter." You laugh thinking about how he probably was as a child. "I was not a biter!" he quickly denied.

"Yeah right, I bet you got in trouble all the time~" You teased as his cheeks puffed out looking annoyed. "You're pouting!" Raichi scoffed glaring off to the side.

Raichi's teeth were slightly bared, something he often did when annoyed.

You couldn't stop yourself before you reached and grabbed the side of his face. Your thumb gently pushing his lip up making more of his sharp teeth show.

"What the hell are ya doing now?" he groaned as you shushed him smiling.

"Your teeth are so adorable!" You compliment moving your hands onto his shoulders shaking him. "Woah calm your ass!" he yelled. You laughed stopping as he reached up and pulled you down onto him. Efficiently trapping you against him.

"Stuck now."

"Nooo Jingo, let go!"

Raichi ignored you sighing relieved as you finally calmed down.

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober - Pain

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Reader

“Are you sure?” You asked, biting your lip. 

Logan nodded, his hands resting on your thighs as you sat on his abdomen. “I like it, honey…” He said slowly. “Always did.” 

It was a new thing. Well, for you it was new. But apparently, for him, he wasn’t. He’d played around with it and enjoyed it. But now, he wanted to do it with you. But you were… unsure. You didn’t want to hurt him. Which was ironic. Seeing as no matter what, he couldn’t be hurt. 

“We don’t have to.” He offered gently. 

“No!” You said too fast. “I mean- No- No, I- I want to make you feel good. I do. But I’ve never- What do I even-” 

“It’s okay.. I’ll guide you through it. Alright?” He assured you. “We’ll start as we do-” He pushed you down until your pussy was sitting pretty on his cock. You nodded and rocked your hips slowly, grinding against him but not taking him in. “Good girl-” The praise made you smile a bit. “And-” He leaned over and pulled out a small knife from his bedside drawer, handing it to you, “Go nuts with it.” 

“W-What?” You blinked, your rhythm faltering a bit as you looked at the sharp small blade. “Anywhere?���

“Anywhere. Anyway. As deep as you want.” Logan smirked, his hands resting on your hips again, guiding the movements slowly so you didn’t have to put in a lot of work. “Fuck, darlin’, you always feel so good-” 

You giggled, slightly toying with the knife as he moved you on his veiny dick. 

“Anything?” You asked again, just to be sure. He nodded a little too eagerly. 

“Everything else stays the same-” He added.

“So, I can…” The blade dragged across his chest and abdomen as you grinded against his cock slowly. Never cutting but just scratching his skin with the promise of what was to come. His breath broke a little but he wasn’t there yet. 

This was more than what you’d done. You’d clawed at his back. You’d bitten him until he bled. You’d even overstimulated him and pressed your foot against his balls until he fucking whimpered but a blade was new and it was starting to feel exciting. 

“Ready?” You bit your lip, a hand pressed down on his stomach to balance yourself, the other holding the blade tightly. Logan nodded, his eyes blown with excitement. 

It started small. A nic on his cheek. A cut on his neck. All the while grinding down against him. His breath was now coming in short puffs, his blunt nails were digging into your thighs as he tried to keep the momentum going. Because twice when he faltered, you gave him an x over his chest. He laughed- he fucking laughed that turned into a moan because he liked it so much. 

The praise that fell from his mouth made your cunt drip so much that there was a squelching sound as you moved over his thick cock. 

You’re doing so good- Yes, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, that feels so good. You’re such a natural. Makin’ me feel so good- God, I can’t wait to fuck you right-

Logan just kept going. He was covered in fresh blood and healed skin as you moved. Your clit being brushed the right way as you whined his name softly. You knew you were starting to get close, but you wanted to focus on him, but it was starting to get harder. It just felt so- so- 

“Mh- Oh god- Logan-” You gasped, grinding harder, “I- I’m-” Accidentally, stabbing him in the ribs as you came with a soft cry. “Fuck! Sorry- Sor-” Your apologies died as his cum shot in thick ropes across his stomach, chest and chin, mixing with the blood. “Oh god-” You blinked in shock, laughing a moan, twisting the blade, making him moan, his eyes rolling back as his hips arched enough to make you bounce. 

“Fuck- Sweetheart-” He growled, his claws coming out, just about missing you. 

“Careful!!” You squeaked as he flipped you over, his cock hard again. 

“My turn, honey.” He laughed, his claws retracting, the blade still stuck in his ribs as he pushed his leaking dick into your needy pussy.

Kinktober 2024.

[zepskies]

Green

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader, Ben and daughter!OC

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

AN: Another one-shot for the BMD-verse, set sometime after "Until Morning" (you'll see). This can be read as standalone as well!

Word Count: 2,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father and daughter fluff, followed by husband and wife spice.~

Read more of the BMD-verse! ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Father and daughter were glaring at one another, gazes locked.

Green against green.

“Young lady, I’m telling you right now. I’m not gonna tolerate any more of your little attitude,” said Ben. “If you want to try me, be my guest.”

He held the ravioli poised on a pink plastic spoon. His daughter Lila sat in her highchair in the kitchen, boldly refusing any more of her lunch.

Her stubborn face reminded him entirely too much of you. But he needed her to eat. He wouldn’t have it said when you came home that he couldn’t feed a damn two-year-old.

He huffed. “Work with me here. Just a couple more bites.”

Lila made a shrill sound of refusal when the spoon came near her face. He knew she could use a spoon just fine. She was being difficult on purpose.

To demonstrate her resolve, she slapped at the ravioli with a chubby little hand, and it ended up splashing back into the bowl. A bit of red sauce splattered onto Ben’s cheek, with a pinch of it hitting his eye.

He blinked in annoyance. “Delilah Marie, I swear to Christ—”

She’s just a baby, a voice that sounded a lot like you infiltrated his mind. It still didn’t take away his aggravation.

“No!” Lila insisted. It was her favorite word, right behind Bluey.

She then pushed the bowl right off the highchair. It spilled ravioli and pasta sauce all over the floor in spectacular fashion. Ben was sitting in his own chair by the dining table, where he moved his feet back at the last moment. She almost got his Italian loafers.

“You gotta be f…” It took every scrap of patience within him to hold his tongue…and breathe calmly through his nose. He didn’t want to reward this destructive, disrespectful behavior, but he also knew that he needed his daughter to eat.

“Want some applesauce?” he said, as a peace offering.

Lila’s face scrunched.

“No applesauce, huh?” Ben muttered. He glanced at the mess across the highchair and the formerly white tile on the floor. “Your mother’s gonna have a conniption.”

“Mommy?” Lila asked. “Mommy’s home?”

“No, she’s not here right now,” Ben replied. “She’ll be home later.”

Lila seemed to understand, because that’s when she got upset again. Her red-stained finger drew a shapeless form in the sauce as she pouted. At least she wasn’t crying.

Ben sighed, once again, and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Fuck it.

“You want some ice cream?” he bribed.

Her sadness dissipated at the thought; she smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah!”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.

After a scoop of strawberry ice cream for each of them (she liked it because it was pink), Ben wrangled her up out of the highchair and declared, bath time.

He did fine with the bathing process. He’d helped you with this before, and so he knew what to do in order to wash the sauce off her face, hands, and even her hair. It was what came after the bath that remained a problem.

Lila was stubborn beyond belief, even before she could articulate what it was about the soft green onesie that she didn’t like. No, she wasn’t satisfied until Ben pulled out the yellow Starlight themed pajamas. Probably because they had “Auntie Annie’s” face all over them.

He rolled his eyes, but this wasn’t a hill he needed to die on. He dressed Lila and tried to tuck her into bed for her afternoon nap. The problem was, she refused to lie still in the crib.

Instead, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, using the edge of the crib for balance. He’d be impressed, if she wasn’t trying to climb out and give him a small heart attack.

He grabbed her and gathered her against his chest. Despite the super strength you’d temporarily displayed off and on throughout your pregnancy, Lila’s powers were latent at the moment. Dr. Baker seemed to think Lila would start to display them once she got old enough. Like Ryan, who hadn’t started growing into his powers until around 10 years old.

So for now, Lila was a mostly normal two-year-old who could still get hurt.

Ben frowned. “This is the time you usually go down. Why do you have so much energy?”

She just giggled at him and put both hands on his face, over his eyes.

“Daddy, guess who?”

He sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. As usual, he indulged her.

“Could it be my baby girl?”

He waited until her hands came away from his eyes, and he opened them wide.

“There she is!”

She squealed and giggled and grabbed his hair when he kissed her cheek. In the comfort of his own home, he could afford to be this openly affectionate.

Aw shit, he thought, as something occured to him.

He finally realized why she was so fucking hyper. Maybe it had something to do with the giant scoop of ice cream she’d had for lunch.

Goddamn it. Ben sighed and unwrapped her arm from around his head.

“Okay, let’s watch some TV.”

Lila didn’t seem all that interested in watching anything, or even playing with her toys. She mainly wanted to jump on Ben’s stomach while he was trying to relax on the couch. He put on a football game you taped for him. Or recorded, as you'd said.

“All right, enough. Your old man’s trying to watch the game,” Ben said, bringing Lila down to sit in lap.

That lasted for about two seconds. Thereafter, she was climbing up his chest and trying to smother him with her little hands.

He took her hand from his nose so he could at least breathe in peace.

“Where’s Mommy?” Lila asked, as she sat on his shoulder and beat a little fist on the top of his head.

“She’s with your aunt,” Ben replied. “Well, not your real one, the fake one.”

Lila made a sound of confusion. Realizing that she didn’t know what the hell he meant, he rephrased.

“She’s with your Aunt Annie. They’ll be back soon,” he said.

He didn’t mind you wanting a day out to yourself. What he minded was the attitude you’d struck when he suggested dropping Lila off with Louisa, your actual sister.

“What, you can’t handle her alone for one day?” you’d asked.

His pride hadn’t allowed him to say no to that.

So here he was, with a wily toddler who was doing her damndest to suffocate him. Better attempts than this had failed, but it was still annoying while he was trying to watch the game.

Somehow, he managed to tune it out while he watched the ref make a bad call.

“What was that?! You gotta be kidding me!” Ben said, holding Lila to his chest even as he pointed and shouted at the TV. “Son of a bitch. What a pussy call that was.”

“Bish, bish, bish,” Lila said, making a game out of the word. It called Ben’s attention.

He forgot about the game for a moment when he looked down at her. His eyes widened a fraction, even as a smile pulled at his lips.

“What’d you just say?”

“Bishhhhhh,” Lila repeated. “Somvabishhhh.” Her lips squished like a fish. And then she giggled, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Aw, fuck,” Ben uttered.

And he pressed his lips together with ever widening eyes at what he’d just said.

Lila grinned. “Fack!”

“Uhh, no. No. Don’t say that,” he said, trying to sound stern. Inside, he was trying not to laugh. He didn't really give a shit what she said, but you were particular about the kid not inheriting his vocabulary.

In fact, he was pretty sure you were going to go nuclear for this one.

“Why?” Lila asked.

“Because it’s uh…a bad word,” Ben replied, even though he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. This was what he’d become. A suburban dad.

"And it's not ladylike," he added.

“Fackkkk,” Lila giggled some more.

Christ on a cross. Ben bit the inside of lip hard to stop himself from laughing.

“Whatever. Just don’t say it around your mom,” he relented. He brushed his fingers through her soft brown hair. She preened at the attention, like the little showboat she was.

“Daddyyyy…” Lila wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled as deeply into him as she could, like a koala clinging to a shaking branch.

Ben sighed and rubbed a hand up and down her back as he cradled her against him.

These were the moments he didn’t mind. In fact, these were the moments he did his best to remember. They helped block out the older, darker ones that this kid would never know.

Ben woke to the shutter of a camera going off.

He blinked his bleary eyes open to find you standing there with a highly amused smile on your face, and your phone poised in your hand.

He groaned, but he soon realized that Lila was sleeping in his arms, on his chest. You leaned down and rested a hand on her back. You also greeted him with a kiss to his temple.

“Long day?” you teased quietly.

Ben gave you a deadpan look, one that had you straining to taper down your giggles. Though he drew you closer by your hip and squeezed the soft flesh over your white sundress. He took you in with a lazy once-over.

You looked good. Sexy as hell, really. Your face was glowing and relaxed, and he liked the shade of red you’d done on your nails.

“You have a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, massaging his shoulder. Though you arched a brow. “There’s a catastrophe in the kitchen.”

Ben blinked.

Fuck. He forgot about that.

“Yep,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk of his own. “Right on time for you, baby.”

You chuckled, though your eyes narrowed in warning. “Yeah, right.”

You still helped him put Lila down in the nursery for the rest of her nap. She yawned and turned over onto her back. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, though you had to smile when it accidentally left the red mark of your lipstick behind.

You bit your lip and gently rubbed it off without waking her up. (An amazing damn feat, as far as you were concerned.)

Ben laid a heavy hand on your back, prompting you to straighten up and turn into his waiting embrace.

His lips curved as he looked down at you. “Hey.”

You laughed quietly. “Hey, yourself.”

Your hands glided up his chest, and further still to hold his face. You brought him down to kiss you, with your fingers slipping into his hair, and your nails dragging along his scalp. He hummed into your mouth.

“Miss me?” you teased.

Ben huffed. As usual though, his answer was in his actions. He held you close for a moment, just to feel you there.

Your arms slipped around his, clinging to his shoulders as you rested against him. This was your safe, comfortable place where you always felt at home.

But, you couldn’t help but break the spell.

“Come on. Clean up on aisle 12,” you quipped, reaching around to smack his ass.

Ben rolled his eyes, but when you pulled away from him, he followed you into the kitchen.

“You know, I had a lot going on. Your kid is a fucking menace,” he said. “Like a bull in a China shop.”

You scoffed. “She’s only my kid when she gives you a hard time. Where do you think she gets it from?”

“You,” he retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. It still didn’t get him out of helping you clean the kitchen from top to bottom.

After a long shower, waking an errant child from her nap, dinner, and a joint effort of getting Lila to sleep for the night, Ben joined you in bed wearing just his usual sweatpants.

You’d opted for some black satin, he noticed.

Good, he thought, for the night to come. You’d spent the whole day getting massaged and moisturized and whatever else women did on a day out.

When he rolled onto his side, you greeted him with a smile and a hand running up his arm, already pulling him toward you. His hand glided along your bare thigh as you hooked it over his hip.

“I need to tell you something, but you’ve gotta promise not to say anything to anyone,” you whispered in the small space between his face and yours, and you tapped his chin.

Ben raised a brow and squeezed your thigh. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait until long after he’d undressed you?

“What?” he asked.

“Annie’s pregnant!” you said with a wide smile. “Six weeks. She just told me today.”

Ben blinked at that one. “Is it Hughie’s kid?”

“Wha…of course, it is!”

“Wow. Guess he had it in him after all,” Ben remarked. “Who woulda thought.”

You shook your head, but his grin made you laugh.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, through your remaining giggles, though you leaned forward and stole a kiss. It led Ben to want more, and more of you.

He started to ply you with slow, lazy kisses that grew deeper, becoming all-consuming as his tongue warred against yours. His hands dove under the satin covering your body, and his thumbs brushed the sides of your breasts.

“Maybe it’s time we go for number two,” he said.

You uttered another incredulous laugh, gripped a fist in his hair and tugged. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” Ben said. He rolled you onto your back and pinned you there. “Ain’t no way we’re stopping at one. Lila needs a brother.”

“You can’t even handle one,” you teased. Your hands slid up his arms and then down his chest. “Baby, we can talk about having more kids, but—”

“And? We’re talking now,” he said. He dipped his head to start kissing a hot, wet line down your neck. It made your breath falter and your back start to arch. Your hips shifted against his, trying to find friction. You could feel his length hardening against your thigh.

“Ben,” you warned, and implored, but the graze of his teeth on your neck made you shudder.

Your grip on his arms tightened. “Please…”

“Please what?” he smirked against your skin. His hips rocked against your heated core.

This conversation was going into a no man’s land very fast.

You literally took matters into your own hands…by reaching down and grasping your husband’s cock through his sweatpants. You gave him a demanding squeeze.

His breath hitched. Ben paused, unlatching from your neck, and turning his lips toward your cheek.

“I’m listening,” he said, in a gritted voice. You smirked.

“We can, and we will talk about this,” you promised. “Just not when you’re about to be balls-deep inside me.”

You were back on birth control anyway (the pill this time).

Ben chuckled. His hand reached up and smoothed your hair away from your forehead.

“Fine,” he conceded. A smirk grew across his face. “But we can still practice.”

A giggle fell from your lips, just before he claimed them once again.

AN: A little callback to the BMD Epilogue at the end there. 😂

What did you think about the father/daughter time? And do you think Ben won against either of the ladies in his life? 🤣

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, in a drama-filled episode, you and Ben do what you two do best in Calculated Risks:

Summary: You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

▶️ Keep Reading: Calculated Risks

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxoviennaa @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[mwahbabe]

loser Chloe being obsessed with her gf big boobs, that's it, that's the ask

a/n: i’m part of the big milkers club but it’s HARD out here for a pimp with no butch lesbian to suck them. i need chloe to worship my tits so bad. anyway.

here’s the one for my small titty girlies<3

. ݁ ❀˖ chloe absolutely LOVES your tits. how they look in those slutty lil tank tops or how they practically spill out of any bikini top. bonus points if you don’t wear bras. she loses her mind seeing the indents of your nipples through the shirt and if it’s a little bit see-through- boy oh boy.

. ݁ ❀˖ she’s a perv. duh, a lot of times her eyes are pointing south and she can’t focus on what you’re saying. if you’re moving around unknowingly or knowingly making them jiggle this girl is not listening.

݁ ❀˖ “chlo? are you listening to me?” “yeahh. uhh..nope.”

. ݁ ❀˖ verrry handsy. i mean they’re right there. if you’re spooning she has a hand on your titty. a lot of times squeezing it like her own personal stress ball. which is what she calls it, says it calms her down. which she’s not lying it kinda does.

. ݁ ❀˖ loves how they bounce when you ride her or even better, when she has your arms pinned above your head and they bounce back and forth when she’s fucking you with the strap. to which she takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss, suck and bite the fuck out of them.

. ݁ ❀˖ to the point your poor nipples are so sore from the amount of assault from her mouth. your tits are always covered in red/purple marks. she can take it too far at times but that’s something you’ve made peace with.

. ݁ ❀˖ this perv will sneak up on you even when you’re busy cooking or doing chores and be like “show me your tits.” and pout and get whiney if you tell her “chloe i’m busy.” or “you’ve already seen them how many times?” “c’monn let me see em again. why are you torturing me?” she whines and grumbles until she gets what she wants.

. ݁ ❀˖ lays her head on them every time you two are cuddling watching tv or in bed pillow talking. (her girl has two built in pillows of her own)

. ݁ ❀˖ if you sleep in a tank top you know how much your tits never want to stay in there. so of course your pervy girlfriend chloe is gonna be very happy when she wakes up next to you while you’re still asleep and obvious to the fact that one or both of your tits is just saying hello to her out of the top you’re wearing.

. ݁ ❀˖ you know that tiktok of that girl that stitched the video of that girl making eggs and her boobies looked nice and smiled the whole time her boobies were on the video until she showed the eggs and her smile fades? yea that’s literally chloe.

. ݁ ❀˖ when you drag her shopping and complain that none of the cute bras in the lingerie store are sold in your size chloe just rolls her eyes grumbling something about “why bother with one?” but once that means she gets to see you try on different lingerie she’s back on board.

. ݁ ❀˖ her hands just slide into your top whenever. you’ve grown used to it, not even blinking as you’re sitting on the couch on your phone/reading and here comes your girlfriend with her cold hands in your shirt.

. ݁ ❀˖ likes to stick her head up your shirt like a cat. “nice view. 10/10.”

. ݁ ❀˖ your boobs swallow hers when you two are kissing or snuggling or just chest to chest, which she really really loves. it makes her giddy.

. ݁ ❀˖ chloe will literally suck on your titties for her own pleasure, just the feel of it in her mouth and the sound of your little moans and giggles gets her so hot, it gets the point you have to tell her “chlo, there’s no milk in there.”

“mmhf.. shut the hell up.”

[ballsandbabes]

GOM + Kagami: S/o wants to learn basketball

Summary: Basically cute chaos on the court <3

Authors Note: Not proofread// Gifs are not mine// y/n= your name

Genre: Fluff, Chaos and lots of teasing

Aomine Daiki

It all started as a joke.

“I could totally learn basketball,” you said one afternoon while watching a game with Aomine.

He smirked, tossing popcorn into his mouth. “You? On the court?”

You gave him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said lazily. “Just... you trip over air.”

You threw a pillow at him. “Shut up!”

But the next afternoon, you showed up at the local court in sneakers, shorts, and a determined scowl. “Teach me,” you said, spinning a ball on your finger—and failing, miserably. It fell and bounced away like a taunt.

Aomine blinked. Then grinned. “You serious?”

“Dead serious.”, you said. He stretched, standing up with a yawn. “Alright. But don’t cry when I school you.”

“Just try not to cry when I actually score on you.”

That earned you a deep chuckle. “Sure, princess.”

—

It started off innocent. Dribbling drills. Footwork. You tripped once—okay, twice—but you got better. His hands brushed yours when correcting your grip. His voice dipped low whenever he leaned in to explain something. “Keep your knees loose,” he said, coming up behind you. His hands lightly guided your stance. “Like this. You’re too stiff.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re too smug.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m right.”

You shot. It hit the rim and bounced off.

“Close,” he said, catching it with one hand. “But not good enough.”

You glared at him. “Again.”

This time, when you shot, he stepped in and blocked it. You gasped. “You jerk!” He grinned. “What? You said you wanted to learn. That includes rejection.”

You chased him around the court, smacking his arm while he laughed like a kid at recess. “You’re the worst teacher ever!”

“Nah,” he said, easily holding the ball above your head. “Best teacher. Just a realistic one.” Then—without warning—he leaned in.

Not quite a kiss. Just close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re trying,” he murmured, voice dropping to that smooth, teasing tone that made your knees a little less loose.

You swallowed. “Is this part of the lesson?”

“Depends,” he said, spinning the ball once before flicking it toward the basket. Swish. “You learn better when you’re flustered?”

You tried to hit him again, laughing this time. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” he said, that familiar smirk back on his lips as he tossed you the ball. “You just hate that I’m good at everything.”

You held the ball, heart still racing. “Bet you can’t teach me how to beat you.”

Aomine’s eyes sparkled. “Oh yeah?”

“One-on-one. Tomorrow. No mercy.”

He leaned in again, this time brushing a kiss to your temple before whispering, “Looking forward to it.”

Kise Ryouta

You barely finished the sentence before Ryouta lit up like a golden retriever being offered his favourite treat.

"You want me to teach you basketball?!" he gasped, hands clutching his chest like you'd just proposed marriage. “____-cchi! I'm honored!” You laughed, slipping on your sneakers as he bounced around the court like a kid on caffeine. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

He pouted. “This is serious! You’re willingly entering my domain! That’s romantic!”

“It’s not romantic.”

“Yes it is.” His eyes sparkled. “It’s a total romcom set-up. Beautiful girl gets private lessons from the handsome ace player, sparks fly, they fall in love—” You raised a brow. “We already are dating.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “We’re halfway through the movie. This is the training montage part!” You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Alright, coach. Impress me.”

He cleared his throat, switching to Serious Athlete Mode™. “First—dribbling. You’ve gotta stay low and keep control.”

He demonstrated, of course with unnecessary flair—one-handed, then behind the back, then spinning it casually on a finger while winking at you. You deadpan stared. “Yeah, that’s definitely beginner level.”

Ryouta laughed, then came closer, gently placing the ball in your hands. “Okay, okay. For real this time. Just bounce it low, like this.” He guided your hands, standing behind you, practically melting against your back with his arms around yours. He smelled like cologne and sunshine.

“You’re very close,” you said.

“Just helping,” he said, voice low and way too pleased with himself. “It’s called hands-on learning.” You elbowed him gently. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I’m the luckiest,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “Okay, now try shooting!” You took the shot—it missed entirely. Clunked off the side of the rim and bounced off the court.

Ryouta blinked, then started clapping dramatically. “We have liftoff!”

“Don’t mock me!”

“I’m not! I’m encouraging you, ____-cchi!” he said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “So proud of your journey.”

You grabbed another ball and threw it at him. He dodged with a laugh, arms wide.

"Hey, hey! Violence won’t help your form!"

“You won’t help your face if you keep teasing me.”

Ryouta jogged over, took your hand, and looked at you like you were the most precious thing on the court. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be serious now. I just—” he shrugged sheepishly, “—I really love being out here with you.”

You blinked. Your heart did that stupid flutter thing.

“…I’m bad at this,” you muttered.

“You’re learning. And honestly…” He spun the ball on his finger and grinned, “you look adorable doing it.” You groaned. “That’s not helping.”

“It’s helping me,” he said, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can we do this every weekend?”

You smiled, leaning back against him.

“Only if you stop acting like this is an anime opening.”

He gasped. “How dare—! This is an anime opening. And I’m the handsome male lead who falls hopelessly in love with the cute girl who can’t dribble!”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m switching sports.”

Ryouta grinned and kissed your cheek again. “Fine, but I’m following you to whatever sport you pick. Deal?”

“…Deal.”

Kuroko Tetsuya

You should’ve known Kuroko would take this seriously.When you casually mentioned, “Hey, I think I wanna learn basketball,” he blinked at you once, nodded… and showed up the next day with a handwritten workout schedule, color-coded tabs, and personalized notes.

“Tetsuya,” you blinked at the binder he handed you. “This is... more organized than my entire life.”

“I want you to improve efficiently,” he said simply, like it was obvious. “Also, I included water breaks.”

You flipped through it, a mix of touched and slightly overwhelmed. There were even little encouragements in the margins: “Keep your knees bent, not your spirit!” “You’re doing better than yesterday.” “Don’t forget to stretch your smile, too.”

You glanced at him. “Did you write motivational quotes for me?”

He looked away, ever so slightly pink. “I thought they might help.” You smiled so hard it hurt.

—

The court was mostly empty that afternoon, with just the two of you and the echo of bouncing balls. Kuroko started you off with basics—dribbling drills, some footwork, and soft passes that somehow always landed exactly where you could catch them. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t flashy. But he was incredibly good at guiding you. Every correction was gentle, every compliment honest and understated.

“You’re improving,” he said as you finally managed to dribble down the court without fumbling. “Your hands are learning.”

“My hands are dumb,” you muttered, wiping your forehead.

He handed you a water bottle without missing a beat. “They’re not dumb. They’re just inexperienced. Like your jokes.”

You stared. “Did you just sass me?” He blinked innocently. “No.”

“…You totally did.”

The corners of his lips tugged up ever so slightly. His version of a full-on laugh. You stuck your tongue out at him before returning to the drills. Later, when you missed a shot for the sixth time in a row, you groaned dramatically and collapsed onto the court. “I am a disgrace to the sport,” you moaned.

“You are not,” he said, stepping beside you and offering his hand. “You just need more practice. And maybe to lift the ball with your arms, not your hopes.”

You gasped. “Okay, that was sass.” He tilted his head. “Constructive sass.”

You let him pull you to your feet, still laughing, your fingers slipping against his for a moment longer than necessary. “Thanks for taking the time to do this,” you said quietly. “Even if I suck.”

He looked at you with that steady, unshakable gaze of his. “You don’t suck. And even if you did, I’d still enjoy this.”

“…Why?”

“Because you’re you,” he said, so simply that your heart actually stumbled in your chest.

You bit your lip, stepping a little closer. “Well, since you’ve been such a good coach today…” He raised an eyebrow, curious. You leaned up and brushed a soft kiss to his cheek. Kuroko blinked. Then stood still for a full two seconds, processing.

“…Thank you,” he said finally, a faint red dusting his ears. “I’d like to receive more rewards like this in future sessions.” You grinned. “Only if you keep the motivational quotes coming.”

He nodded seriously. “I’ll prepare a new batch for next time.”

You laughed, tucking yourself under his arm as he handed you your water bottle again, the sun beginning to dip behind the court. Private lessons with Kuroko might not be flashy. But they were perfectly you.

Taiga Kagami

It all started when you wandered into the gym after his evening practice, sneakers in hand and a hopeful look on your face.

"Hey, Kagami," you called. He turned from the hoop, sweat dampening his tank top and forehead, ball tucked under one arm. “Yo. What’s up?”

You grinned. “I wanna learn basketball. Teach me?” He blinked. “You? You wanna play basketball?”

“Why does everyone say that?” you groaned. Kagami rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly flustered. “No! I didn’t mean it like that! I just—uh, I mean—yeah! I can teach you! Totally.” You snorted. “That was the smoothest sentence I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up and stretch before you pull something.”

—

You expected drills. What you didn’t expect was for Kagami to go full-on coach mode — minus the yelling.

“Okay, first—stance. Feet shoulder-width apart.”

You mimicked him, a little stiff. “No, no—looser.” He stepped behind you, hesitated, then placed his hands on your hips to gently adjust your stance. “Like this.” You froze. His hands were big. Warm. Very there.

“Better,” he muttered, stepping back quickly, ears glowing red. You turned your head and smirked. “Aw, Taiga, are you blushing?”

“I’m not—”

“You totally are.”

“Shut up and dribble!”

—

You were bad at it. Like… really bad. But Kagami was weirdly patient, correcting your hand placement, gently swatting the ball back when it rolled away, and smiling whenever you managed even a half-decent move. “You’re seriously trying,” he said, slightly breathless as he jogged to retrieve a wild shot of yours.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” he said, tossing the ball back with a grin. “It’s just… kinda cute.”

You blinked. “What is?” He shrugged. “You. Out here. Trying. Messing up. Getting mad. Sticking your tongue out when you concentrate.”

You flushed, throwing the ball at his chest—he caught it effortlessly.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Says the one who just missed five layups in a row.”

“I swear to God—” He laughed. “Kidding! You’re improving. Seriously.” You watched him smile at you like it meant something. Like you meant something. And that’s when you realized—you kind of loved this version of Kagami. Slightly awkward, but warm. Goofy, but gentle. A little clumsy with words, but so good with his actions. You stepped closer, reaching for the ball he held. Instead, you tiptoed up and kissed him on the cheek. He went still, eyes wide like you’d just dunked on him mid-game.

“That’s for being a good teacher,” you said casually, snatching the ball from his frozen hands. He touched his cheek like it was the first time anyone had ever kissed him there.

“…I think I need more private lessons,” he muttered, blinking in disbelief. You grinned. “We’ll see. Only if you don’t make me run suicides next time.”

“No promises,” he said, finally smiling again. “But I might go easier on you if I get another reward like that.” You turned away to hide your blush. “Shut up and stretch, Kagami.” He chuckled, jogging after you. And somehow, that late-night gym session felt more like a win than any buzzer-beater ever could.

Akashi Seijuro

The Akashi family ball was everything you expected it to be: glamorous, gilded, and intimidatingly formal. But you weren’t nervous — not with Seijuro at your side, hand resting lightly at the small of your back, his presence a steady, unshakeable calm. He guided you through introductions, dances, and whispered compliments like a man perfectly in control. Until you leaned up during a slow waltz and murmured in his ear: “You know… I still want that basketball lesson you promised me.”

He blinked, just once. Then he smiled — slow, knowing, a little amused. “Now?” You gave him your best innocent look. “Why not?”

His eyes flicked to the side — toward the Akashi estate’s private indoor court. Empty. Polished. Lit by soft overhead lights. You’d passed it on the way in, and now the idea of you both playing there, dressed to the nines, was suddenly deliciously ridiculous.

“You’re serious,” he said softly.

“Only if you are.”

His gaze dropped briefly — from your perfectly styled hair, to your elegant dress, to your heels — then back up, eyes gleaming with something equal parts fondness and challenge. “Very well,” he said, offering his hand once more. “Let’s make this evening more… memorable.”

—

You kicked off your heels at the edge of the court, the cool wood under your bare feet. Your dress swished around your legs as you tried to dribble the ball he handed you. Tried. It bounced off your foot with a loud thunk and rolled away. Akashi caught it with one hand.

You sighed. “I’m hopeless.” He smiled — warm, amused. “Hardly. You’re just distracted by the setting.”

You tilted your head. “And you’re not?”

“I have excellent focus,” he replied, stepping closer. “Even when someone as beautiful as you is breaking dress code and attempting a crossover in a ball gown.”

You poked his chest. “That sounded like a flirt and a scolding.”

“Why not both?”

He gently guided your hands to the proper position. His fingers lingered longer than necessary. “Bend your knees slightly,” he said, his breath warm against your temple. “Control the ball — don’t let it control you.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“It is, with the right teacher.” You looked up. He was very close. “You always get this smug when coaching?” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Only when the student looks this enchanting under gym lights.” Your heartbeat kicked up.

“Seijuro…”

“Yes?”

You shot the ball just to break the tension. It missed. Badly. He caught it again, tucking it under one arm. “I think,” he said, stepping even closer until his chest was brushing yours, “this lesson may need… additional incentive.”

“Oh?” you breathed, suddenly hyper-aware of how your dress clung to you. “Like what?” He leaned down slowly, eyes locked to yours. “A reward for progress.”

Then his lips brushed yours — soft, deliberate, slow. You melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck as the ball dropped and bounced away. He caught your waist like he never wanted to let go. When you finally pulled back, breathless, you laughed. “I think I’ll be requesting private lessons more often.”

Akashi smirked, brushing your hair from your face with court-level precision. “Then I’ll make sure every lesson ends in victory… for both of us.”

Murasakibara Atsushi

"Ne~, ___-chin… you're serious?" Atsushi blinked slowly at you from his place on the gym floor, lying flat on his back like a bored cat in the sun. An open bag of strawberry Pocky rested on his chest, one stick hanging out of his mouth. You nodded firmly, bouncing a basketball between your hands. “I want to learn. You’re the best player I know.”

He sighed dramatically, like you’d asked him to run a marathon in the rain. “But it’s sooo annoying to teach stuff... and my arms feel sleepy.”

You walked up and squatted beside him, poking his cheek. “You can dunk without trying and block shots like you're swatting flies. If anyone can make me look good on the court, it's you.” He squinted one eye open at you, then closed it again. “Mmm... flattery’s kinda working.”

You smiled. “I'll give you snacks after.” That did it. He sat up immediately, looming over you with his ridiculous height, the Pocky still dangling from his lips.

“…Fine. But only if you’re fun to coach, okay?”

You stood up, grinning. “Deal.”

—

Lesson One: Dribbling: It went as expected. “Your hands are too stiff,” he mumbled, chewing lazily on another Pocky as he watched you fumble the ball. “You look like you're swatting a bug.”

You glared. “You could actually help instead of commentating like a snacking grandma.”

“Mmm… maybe.” He lumbered over and reached down to gently adjust your grip. His fingers dwarfed yours — warm, slow, surprisingly careful. “Like this,” he said, pressing your hands into the right position. “Let the ball bounce, not your brain.”

You snorted. “What kind of advice is that?” He shrugged. “It made sense in my head.”

—

Lesson Two: Shooting: It involved him standing behind you and lifting your elbows gently like you were a human crane game. You shifted awkwardly. “Atsushi, you’re way too close.”

“Makes it easier to help,” he mumbled, head resting against yours as he leaned down. “Plus, you smell good.” Your face lit up like a traffic light. “You’re not supposed to say that in the middle of a lesson!”

He smirked lazily. “You said this was a private lesson.” You groaned, threw the ball up — and to your shock, it actually went in.Murasakibara blinked. “Whoa. You made it.”

“Did you just sound proud of me?”

“No. I just didn’t think you’d get that lucky.” He smirked. “Maybe I am a good teacher.” You turned and flicked him in the forehead. He pouted.

After a few more shots (some airballs, some miracle baskets), you collapsed onto the floor beside him, both of you sweaty, tired, and smiling. “That was fun,” you said, grabbing your water bottle. “Thanks for actually getting up and moving.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, lying back down. “You did good for someone tiny.” You leaned over him, grinning. “Was that… praise from Murasakibara Atsushi?” He stretched lazily, arms above his head. “Maybe. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You reached out and pecked him on the cheek, soft and quick. He paused. Then turned his head to look at you, violet eyes blinking slowly.

“…Can I get that again?”

“Only if you keep teaching me,” you said playfully. He cracked a sleepy smile. “Okay, but next time… we bring snacks first.” You laughed, curling up beside him on the gym floor, where the basketball still slowly rolled to a stop. With Atsushi, everything might move a little slower… but it was always worth the wait.

Shintaro Midorima

You should’ve expected it. You told Midorima you wanted to learn basketball — expecting maybe a casual one-on-one in the gym. Instead, you walked into the court to find a whiteboard. A clipboard. A perfectly stacked pile of printed drills. And a USB loaded with video analysis. "Shin-chan…" you blinked, stunned. "Are we training for the NBA?"

Midorima pushed up his glasses, entirely unfazed. "If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly." You approached the whiteboard, noticing hand-drawn diagrams of shooting form, angles, and—was that trigonometry?

“Did you seriously do math for me?”

"It’s geometry,” he corrected. “And yes. It improves arc precision.”

You stared. He didn’t blink. This man.

—

At first, the structure helped. Dribbling drills. Shooting angles. Footwork. But an hour in, your brain was fried and your hands ached. You missed a simple layup for the third time, the ball rolling away with a sad bounce.

“I hate this,” you groaned, collapsing to the court. Midorima adjusted his glasses again, checking the clipboard. “Your form collapsed because you didn’t pivot properly on your left foot. We can isolate that and run it again.” You flopped dramatically. “You know what I’d like to isolate? Your clipboard. Into a trash can.” He opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off by sitting up, crawling toward him on your knees with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Maybe I just need... a different kind of motivation.” His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about—?”

You leaned up slowly and tugged his tie — because yes, Midorima Shintarō came to a basketball lesson in a button-down and tie — and smirked.

“I think you’re taking this a little too seriously, Sensei.” Midorima froze, ears turning pink. “I-It’s important to—t-to have structure in training!”

“And what if I do better with... hands-on instruction?”

You leaned closer, just enough for him to register how close your lips were, how your breath fanned against his skin.

“…You’re misusing the concept of kinesthetic learning,” he muttered stiffly, though his voice was suddenly rougher, his hand twitching slightly at his side. You tilted your head, fingers still playing with the knot of his tie. “So teach me your way. But if I make the next shot... you owe me something.”

He blinked. “Like what?” You grinned. “A kiss.” His face turned a brilliant shade of red.

“I—! That’s—! Completely unnecessary!”

You stepped back, grabbed the ball, and with mock ceremony, squared up like he taught you. He watched, arms crossed tightly, lips pressed into a line. You shot. It hit the rim… and went in with a clean swish. You turned around slowly, arms lifted in silent celebration. “I believe you owe me, Midorima.”

He looked like he wanted the earth to open and swallow him whole. But after a second… he walked toward you. Every step was measured, tense. And then, in the most Midorima-like act of romance ever, he placed his hands gently on your shoulders, leaned down, and kissed you — carefully, almost scientifically — but when your hand slid up to cup his jaw, something changed. His posture eased. His grip tightened. His kiss deepened.

His clipboard clattered to the ground. You pulled away, breathless and smiling. “Still think it’s unnecessary?”

He cleared his throat, glasses askew, voice low. “...I may need to revise my reward system.”

You laughed and grabbed the ball again, tossing it lazily toward the hoop. “Better start preparing your incentives, then.” As it bounced off the rim this time, Midorima caught it one-handed and looked at you — and for once, there was a smirk behind that serious face.

“…You’ll miss on purpose next time, won’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased. “But I think you’d like that.”

He didn’t deny it.

[impala-dreamer]

A Rod & A Ryder

A Supernaturally Silly Story

~ When Dean decides to give Y/N a sexy DIY gift, he finds himself in a rather tight predicament ~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Castiel 

3,306 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Talk of Sex Toys and Self Love, Tiny Fleck of Jealous!Dean, Mishaps, Crack

For @jacklesversebingo “Free Square”

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Dean hung back while Y/N was at the counter. She was more than capable of interviewing the salesperson by herself, and besides, he had other things to investigate. Like, for instance, the extremely large red, white, and blue dildo sitting on the shelf by the window.

He blinked a few times at the toy, marveling at the size and wondering how a human being could open any hole, mouth included, wide enough to insert such a tree trunk of a phallus. Deciding it was simply a gag gift, and laughing at the word ‘gag’ even as he thought it, Dean moved on, trying not to become too enthralled by the offerings around the sex shop.

He’d been in porn shops before, but not in a long while, and they were certainly fancier than he remembered. Slightly more adventurous too.

Whips in various sizes and materials lined the wall to his right; plush handcuffs and spacer bars were displayed to his left. A section seemingly devoted to Fifty Shades held his attention for a while. More than a few things raised an eyebrow and he couldn’t help but look over at Y/N, wondering if she’d ever allow such things into their bedroom. It wasn’t like he longed to fix that cute powder-pink collar on her throat and lead her around on a leash, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. Just like he hadn’t thought about her locking little Dean up in one of those tiny metal cages and teasing him until he-

“See somethin’ you like?”

Her question made him jump and Dean turned with pink cheeks towards his girlfriend.

Y/N was holding back a laugh, trying not to embarrass him and blow their cover. Federal Agents weren’t known to giggle like twelve year olds at vibrators and butt plugs, even the ones with fluffy tails on the ends.

One such tail drew Y/N’s attention and she picked the sample up from the clear display shelf and wiggled it in his face, making him cringe and back up a step.

“Gross,” he laughed, swatting away the faux fox fur. “Stop that.”

Y/N set the toy back in its spot and bit her lip. “Why, Agent Zappa, I never pegged you for a prude.”

Dean stood up straight and adjusted his tie. “First of all, you’ve never pegged me at all, and-”

A twinkle sparkled in her eye. “I could, ya know-”

He sucked in a quick breath and ignored the offer. “Secondly…” He cleared his throat. “I’m not a prude, I’m just a little… There’s a lot of stuff here that… I mean- come on.” He waved at a line of latex cocks behind her and Y/N spun around, coming face to face with a rather realistic looking, fully erect penis.

“Oh my…”

Dean hummed. “Exactly.”

Curious, Y/N picked up the corresponding box and scanned the information on the back. “Huh.”

“What?”

Holding up the box, she read from the description: “This lifelike replica is molded directly from one of the hottest porn stars of the new millennium. Sterling Rod’s eleven inch cock is crafted with incredibly lifelike, innovative material that replicates the texture and firmness of the real thing.”

Dean swallowed hard, looking up at the longer-than-life penis and then sadly down at his crotch. “Eleven inches?”

Y/N hummed a sexy little note and carried on. “The dynamic features of this beautiful dildo include realistically jiggling balls that enhance the authenticity of the experience…”

“OK, we don’t have to keep reading that…” Something about fake jiggling balls made him uncomfortable.

“The suction cup bottom gives you a hands free option to-”

“Suction cup?” Green eyes glazed over as a quick fantasy scene played in his head. Y/N, alone in the Bunker, bouncing on Sterling Rod’s rod suction cupped to the top of the table in the War Room, her juicy bottom illuminated by the glowing map. His slacks shrank a bit.

“The impressive eleven inch length…” Y/N let out an impressed breath and squirmed, adjusting her weight from one foot to the other.

He frowned at the measurement and her apparent interest. She always said he was the perfect size for her and yet-

“...Delving deeper than any other to pleasure you in ways no man can.”

“OK!” Jerking the box away, Dean put an end to his torture. “OK. I get it.”

Y/N pursed her lips and squinted at him. “Jealous?”

“Of a toy?” He leaned back, offended. “No.”

“It’s not just a toy,” she teased. “It’s Sterling Rod’s cock.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not his actual cock. That’s just for advertising.”

“No, no. It’s really him.” Y/N picked up the box and pointed out the print she’d just read aloud. “Molded directly from-”

“Please don’t read it again.”

Shrugging, she returned the box. “They do that now, ya know,” she laughed. “For the girls too.”

Dean’s jealousy faded and his interest perked up. “What now?”

“Mhm.” Y/N spun on her heel and crooked a finger at him.

Dean followed without hesitation as Y/N led him to the other side of the store.

The multicolored dildos and clit-sucking vibrators gave way to pocket masturbators and lube, anal beads, and a set of manly blank nipple clamps that made Dean’s pulse quicken just a bit.

Y/N paused beside a display of what, from far away, appeared to be blooming roses. “See? Custom pussies.”

A joke tickled his throat. “Say that again?”

“Custom. Pussies.” She popped the P and Dean choked back a laugh. “See? This one is Angel Ryder’s.”

“Angel Ryder?” Dean smirked. “Good name…”

“You know her.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in thought.

“You know, the redhead in the trench coat from that one we watched on Christmas…”

The tip of his tongue pressed against his front teeth as he scanned his memory.

Y/N sighed. “With the tattoo… on her…”

Dean lit up. “Oh! Yeah. OK… I remember her.” He blinked and saw her in his head: big, fake tits bouncing on a muscular Santa’s lap. His lips puckered into a horny grin.

“Yeah. Her.” Y/N picked up the box beneath the flourishing rubber vagina and held it out to him. “Molded from her actual sausage wallet.”

Dean scanned the box and nodded in approval. “So they just like… stick some goo up there and-”

“Ew. No.”

“No?”

Y/N paused for a moment and pondered. “Actually, I have no idea how they do it, but I’m sure they don’t just tip her upside down and pour silicone in there.”

Dean smirked.

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes. When she righted them, they were stuck on the ridiculously long length of Sterling’s erect silicone dick and she hummed in a way Dean didn’t care for.

He cleared his throat. “You don’t have any… ya know…”

It was endearing that he couldn’t even ask. They’d fucked in the back of his car, on the hood of his car, in random bars, once in the woods next to a flaming vampire nest, and even in the Franklin Mills County Morgue while sneaking in late at night for evidence. But the fact that he couldn’t ask her right out if she had a box of sex toys tucked away somewhere was too adorable to not tease him for.

“Dean, are you asking me if I have a dildo?”

He swallowed hard and tugged at the knot of his navy tie, loosening it a tiny bit. “Well, yeah.”

She refused to answer verbally but gave him a very affirmative shrug.

His jaw dropped. “In our bedroom?” He lowered his voice, comically leaning in so the saleswoman of a sex shop couldn’t hear them discussing sex stuff. “You have a fake dick in our bedroom when you’ve got a… pretty impressive human specimen right next to you whenever you want?”

His eyes were wide with worry and Y/N took pity. She lay her hand warmly on his arm.

“Baby, I don’t use it… all the time. It’s just there for like… .emergencies.”

“Emergencies?”

“You know, if you’re out or-”

He jerked upright. “So when I’m out getting pizza, you’re riding plastic probes?”

Her laugh was unstoppable but strangled. “No. Like, if you’re away for a while. I miss you, ya know.”

He softened a bit at that.

“And, excuse, me, are you saying you don’t masturbate anymore?”

“Uh…” Green eyes flitted about, looking for a safe place to land.

“It’s OK if you do.”

Dean shrugged just as she had. “A man has… needs, Y/N/N.”

“You’re cute.” Giving up on the conversation lest things get too intense, Y/N pushed up on her toes and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “But can we go? The scent of edible lube is making me sick.”

She turned away before he could answer and Dean gave Angel Ryder’s plump petals an intrigued look. Saying a farewell, he turned to the door, jogging a few quick steps to catch up.

“Hey! I thought you liked wild cherry…”

~

Time wore on and the memory of their explicit sex shop conversation had mostly faded into the Arizona horizon. Y/N hadn’t brought up their chat again after they’d banged it out in the hotel room that night, and she’d even stopped teasing him about how she would introduce him to the little purple pole hidden in her underwear drawer.

Dean, however, couldn’t get the idea of Y/N playing with some other dude’s joystick, even if it was made of plastic, out of his head. If she was fucking some dick, he wanted it to be his. If some asshole was plunging her depths, he wanted to be that asshole. Cowgirl Y/N should only be riding one horse and his lap was the saddle.

After two weeks of unwarranted jealous thoughts and sulking around, Dean had an idea.

One quick Google search later, Dean had a plan.

After four days of waiting for the slow-as-hell local post office to get its act together, Dean was ready to go.

That is, once he got Y/N to go.

Thankfully, Sam had found a case a few hours away and Dean convinced Y/N to take the drive, claiming he was feeling under the weather. He got an extra kiss on the forehead for that, and waved goodbye as headlights faded out of sight.

Dean laid out the materials on his bed. A bag of powder, a plastic tube, a tongue depressor, and a mug of water. The instructions said the water had to be 90 degrees exactly, and he waited until the water was cool enough to touch but still warm. If he was sticking his dick in it, he didn’t want to burn the skin off.

Working quickly, he mixed the powder and water, dumped it rather messily into the tube, and grabbed his dick.

“Come on, Dean. This is for Y/N.”

He closed his eyes and thought about her using his gift; naked and spread wide on the hood of the Impala, his hot pink clone pounding her sweet pussy. He jerked himself a few times, wanting to make sure he was as big as possible, and then stuck it in the goo. A bit of casting spilled over the top but he could clean it up later.

It was warm and wet. Somewhat squishy, and not altogether unpleasant. Humming happily, Dean leaned back against the wall and held himself in the tube, still fantasizing about its future.

Y/N licking it like a lollipop in front of a mirror; spit dripping down her chin…

Y/N on all fours, fucking herself on the toy, moaning his name…

Y/N nudged the dildo gently against his tight ass…

Startled but not disgusted by his subconscious desire, Dean gave himself a little shake to clear his head, and made a note to bring it up with Y/N at some point.

He checked his watch and more than five minutes had passed which was three more than the two stated in the instructions.

“Well, a little more never hurt anyone.”

Except, it did.

Dean carefully pulled on the tube of hardened casting and nothing happened.

He tried again, a little less carefully, and it moved not even an inch.

“Shit.”

Again.

“Fuck.”

He was stuck. More specifically, his now soft, over-sensitive penis was stuck in a tight tube of hardened plaster-like junk.

He tried to fit a finger into the mess, but it was too tight, sealed against his skin.

He thought for a moment about getting a knife from the kitchen and cutting his way out, but it was a very short thought that ended with him terrified to even move lest he cut his precious instrument.

If he called 911, he’d have to explain some things and they might also use something sharp. Calling Y/N would be even worse than being stuck, and he’d rather cut his dick completely off than tell Sam what he was up to.

That left only one option.

Sitting on the side of the bed, Dean grabbed a pillow and held it gingerly over his issue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Cas? Kinda need your help, buddy.”

He waited a second and then peaked his right eye open, finding the room just as empty as before.

Gritting his teeth, he tried again.

“Cas! Help!”

A whoosh of air and the flap of wings opened Dean’s eyes and he found his best friend standing a foot away.

“Dean. What’s wrong?”

The worry in Castiel’s voice was strong and Dean felt somewhat bad for making him rush over. But then again, his dick was encased in stone.

“Are you hurt?”

Dean clicked his tongue, debating the truthful answer. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Cas’s head tilted dramatically to the east. “What’s going on?”

Begrudgingly, Dean removed the pillow from his lap and displayed his nakedness shoved into a long plastic tube.

Blue eyes squinted at the apparatus. ”Dean, what are you doing?”

“It’s a gift,” Dean confessed.

Confusion twisted the angel’s face. “For who?”

“Y/N!”

Castiel nodded in understanding. “Ah. Yes.”

To investigate, Cas bent at the waist and let his gaze zoom in on Dean’s crotchal region. Blood rushed from Dean’s face to dick and back up again. He was embarrassed and scared but it was still kind of hot.

Castiel poked at the tube with a gentle finger and Dean quickly swatted him away.

“What exactly have you done to yourself?”

“It’s a kit to…” Dean’s ease of speech was temporarily stunted. “I’m…” He looked away in an attempt to hide. “I’m making a clone of… well, me.” He cleared his throat. “And I got stuck.”

Cas stood up and nodded, but he still had questions.

“Why do you think Y/N would like something like this?”

“Well, it makes a… toy. A sex toy. For her. It’s a dildo, OK? Ya know, for when I’m away… or not in the mood.”

Another squint, another head tilt.

Dean huffed. “Yeah, OK, I’m always in the mood. But, I don’t know, I thought it would be a nice thing to do. A sexy gift. Thought it would be kinda hot.”

“And is it?”

Dean sighed. “Not currently!”

Sensing the urgency, Castiel knelt down between Dean’s knees and plotted his move. “Why did you call me?” he asked, getting closer than Dean could really handle.

Green eyes rolled in utter annoyance. “Who the hell else was I gonna ask? Sam?”

“Good point.”

“Can you just… Help.”

Castiel took a deep, unnecessary breath and locked eyes with Dean. Slowly, he set his hands on the plastic tube, ready to extract Little Dean.

“Don’t move, Dean. This may be a bit uncomfortable…”

~

Dean hung back while Y/N kicked off her shoes and tossed her backpack on the desk. She was tired and sore from the road, and more than happy to be home.

“You are lucky you got sick,” she told him, peeling off a sock and pitching it into the laundry basket by the door. “I have never seen so much ectoplasm in my life. And it stunk.”

Dean watched her from the door, his shoulder holding up the entire wall. “Oh yeah? Eggs or asparagus?”

She laughed and cringed at the same time. “Worse. Horse. Like, end of the parade, rainy, horse shit.”

Their eyes met and Dean licked his lips unconsciously. “I missed you.”

She beamed. “Me too.”

She held out her arms for him to join her on the bed, but he stayed put and nodded at the pillow.

“Gotcha something.”

“Oh?” Y/N held onto a smile with her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she turned to find a happy birthday gift bag lying on her pillow. The handles were tied together and price tag sticker residue smudged the bright blue outside. She laughed. “It’s not my birthday.”

Dean moved inside the room. “Yeah, well, they don’t exactly make gift bags for this.”

Curious, Y/N plucked apart the knot and looked inside at her gift. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide.

“Is that?”

Dean held his breath. “Take it out.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned as she pulled a hot pink silicone cock from the bag. “This is… nice…” She held it in a light fist and marveled at how familiar it was. “This is…” She squinted at the top, traced the underridge with her thumb. “Holy shit, Dean! This is you!”

Proud, and rather impressed that she recognised his dick so easily, Dean grinned. “You like?”

Her smile was worth all the pain.

“I love it.”

Dean bent to kiss her softly. “I’m glad.”

“Also…”

He stood up, worried. “Also?”

Placing the replica staff gently on the bed, Y/N went to her backpack and pulled out a plain white box.

“I didn’t have time to wrap it,” she joked, handing him the present.

Carefully, Dean lifted the lid and nearly fell over.

Tucked inside was a silky smooth pink rose with a rather familiar petal formation. Stunned, he looked up at Y/N as he pulled the toy from the box.

“Is this your-”

“Kitty?” She laughed. “Yes.”

Dean let out a laugh that shook his shoulders and brought tears to his eyes. “Great minds, huh?”

Y/N nodded and then rolled her eyes as Dean shoved two fingers into the silicone hole and giggled.

“I’m glad you like it.”

His arms fit around her more perfectly than either would find again. She kissed him sweetly and he retaliated with more, licking into her mouth with hunger and intent.

When he let her go, Y/N hopped on the bed and picked up her toy, examining it closer.

“I do have to admit,” she said, sniffing the cock absently, “I had a little trouble making it.”

Dean joined her, stretching out on his side of the bed while still fingering her petals. “Really? So did I.”

“Not like this.” She laughed and hid her face in her hands. “I kinda… I had to ask for some help.”

Dean sat up quickly and turned to her. “Please tell me you didn’t call Cas.”

She cringed. “Well, who the hell else was I supposed to ask? Sam?” Embarrassment closed her eyes as she explained. “I was… It was making a mess and it was getting all up in… I just… I was kinda praying. Well, cursing loudly, and he popped in and…”

Dean’s silence caught her attention and she opened her eyes to find him red-faced and guilty.

“Wait.” She leaned in, peering into his eyes for a confession. “Did you call Cas?”

He squirmed and shrugged.

“Oh my god, you did!”

Dean laughed. “Like I said… great minds.”

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[mxnhoo]

to me. (l. hs)

"where's the trophy? he just comes runnin' over to me." ╰➤ athlete!heeseung x fem!reader ft jay, sunghoon, jake, riki (enha) genre. romance, fluff, basketball (majority of the plot LOL), semi-proofread w/c. 3.6k warnings. mentions of injuries/hospital, giving up on dreams, idk if this needs to be mentioned but a lot of praying cly's note. i tried my very best to recall all the basketball terms from when i still played in a team, and with the olympics taking over my tiktok, i just HAD to write something after seeing all those cute edits. hope ya'll enjoy this one! don't forget to like/reblog/comment if you did<3

now playing : the alchemy - taylor swift

Loud cheers reverberate from every corner of the room, each individual having their own team they were cheering for. The basketball court that centred the huge hall consisting of athletes that were running back and forth, bouncing the basketball and making moves that one could easily miss if you blinked. The athletes had serious expressions on their faces, anyone being able to immediately sense the tension as the game continues to progress. However, even with all the chaos that was happening, your gaze was fixated on one player, and one player only. Your boyfriend, Lee Heeseung.

Your eyes followed him as he sprinted from across the court, skillfully dribbling the ball with his hand as he successfully gets pass his opponents, finding himself open and having the opportunity to shoot a shot. He picked up the ball in his hands and took his shot for the hoop, the ball spinning around the hoop before finally falling in. You stood up in excitement and cheered loudly, the audience surrounding you quickly following and filling the area with loud cheers.

Heeseung, with his right hand dangling in the air after his shot, quickly curled his fingers into a fist and shook it in triumph, feeling proud after being able to help his team earn a point. The camera quickly panned to him, his face appearing in the big screen and he took the opportunity to nod his head and flash a pleased expression. He ran back to his court to defend, and while the opponents were still at the opposite end of the court dribbling towards them, Jay, who was Heeseung's teammate, took the opportunity to fistbump him.

As the opponents quickly approached, Heeseung stood in front of the dribbler, his feet never stepping beyond the 3-pointer line as he held his hands up, observing his opponent's every move and as his opponent quickly passed the ball, Heeseung made an attempt to intercept the pass and it succeeded, allowing him to take hold the ball and he wasted no time to dribble across the court again.

The opponents were quick to respond, and with them blocking Heeseung's way, he passed the ball to Jake who dribbled in, picking up the ball to do an lay-up which was quickly interrupted by his opponent's hand, the ball instantly being blocked and it flew behind Jake, the opponents having the ball again.

The match quickly went on and before you realised, it was already the break period before the last quarter. The scoreboard was currently a 1:2, and nervously glancing at the sidelines, you saw the athletes feeling clearly pressured, their realisations setting in that if they don't buckle up the next quarter, they were going to lose. Your eyes fell on Heeseung who was sitting on the bench, speaking to all of them with a serious expression on his face, probably coaching them. His teammates were all standing up, surrounding him and listening to him attentively as they listened his instructions on what to do next and right before they could finish their discussion, the referee blew his whistle to indicate the start of the next quarter. The different teams did their cheers accordingly before setting foot back into the court.

Heeseung prepared for the jump-ball, staring at the ball that the referee was holding between him and his opponent, and with the whistle blowing, the refereee threw the ball in the air and Heeseung jumped upwards, his hands reaching for the ball and flicking it towards him where Jake was. Jake took hold of the ball and dribbled in, managing to earn a point from a lay-up effortlessly despite the amount of tension he was feeling inside. Jake cried out in relief, his faith slowly crawling back to him as he managed to start off the quarter well for his team.

Points have been earned multiple sides from the two different teams, and currently, the opponents were ahead by 6 points. There were only 6 minutes left, and features of worry were taking over your featuresas many 'what-if''s filled your head. What if something goes wrong? What if Heeseung's hand starts to hurt again? What if he gets injured again? What if they don't win this quarter? Will they manage to do it? What if they don't win?

You bit your lip as you carefully watched the match, your fingers fidgeting as you aggressively rubbed the top of your thumbnail. The loud cheering that filled the entire hall slowly start to disappear as your head starts to get filled with the different thoughts. Your eyes that were fixated on Heeseung watched his every move, realising his serious expression as he observed the opponent, and you glanced at his right hand that was slightly shaking.

You recalled the moment when he had badly injured his right hand a few years back, how there were many sleepless nights in the hospital because the boy fractured his hand, leaving everyone worried that he possibly wouldn't be able to ball again for the rest of his life. You prayed every single night, shed so many tears, begged for a miracle to magically happen that he would just be okay again. That he can have the chance to achieve his dreams again.

The best day of your life, other than Heeseung asking you out a little before he got injured, was when the doctor announced that Heeseung would be just fine, but that he needed a year to fully recover, and that he wouldn't be able to play basketball the same way he used to. You remember the grief-striken expression on Heeseung's face when he found out, recalling those nights when he silently cried to himself which shattered your heart, but he never gave up, working hard constantly and earning himself an opportunity to play basketball again on his dream stage.

You recalled the days he had to practically re-learn basketball with his left hand, the journey becoming even more difficult since his left hand wasn't his dominant hand, but he was determined. He always woke up early to go to the gym, working out to achieve his ideal physique and then played basketball afterwards with his mates, using his right hand as minimally as possible.

You recalled one night when you and Heeseung were on a basketball date out, you in his jersey and him in his tank top, both of you just continuously doing bounce passes to each other as you both walked and looked into each other's eyes. The sun has set, the only source of light from the post lights in the court, and it was starting to get chilly. The cold breeze blew onto your faces and your hair lightly flowed in the air, and Heeseung gave you a smile that you'd never get tired of.

You both talked about random topics, whether it was about controversial questions such as "M&M or Skittles", or if it was about serious topics. One thing you'll never forget from that night was the sight of his exasperated look when he asked you, "Do you think I even have a chance?" while doing a hard bounce pass to you, the sound of the ball bouncing being the only thing that could be heard. He never specified what he meant, but you already knew.

He never admitted it, but you could tell that he was so close to giving up, and upon hearing his question, you immediately set the ball to the floor and walked to him, opening your arms and bringing him into a warm embrace.

It was an embrace he never knew he needed so much. An embrace of comfort, an embrace of reassurance. It's honestly pretty heartbreaking when it seems like you can't professionally play a sport you dedicated your entire life to. His whole world was crashing down.

You gently patted his back as you felt him cry out, nuzzling his face into your shoulders as you felt his tears on your skin. You hated to see him like this, you hated to see him so helpless and unfaithful.

"I know you'll make it," you speak up after a moment of silence, still continuing to pat his back slowly. "I'll always be here, Hee, I'm always supporting you."

That was the day you realised that it wasn't just his journey, it was a shared journey between the two of you. You pulled him up from his dark moments, and the bond between the two of you only depeened.

From that day on, Heeseung started to take trainings even more seriously, all while still taking care of his right hand, and you could see him drastically improve, whether it was his faith that he could achieve his dreams, his hand condition, or his skills in basketball in general.

You were so proud of him, and you never once gave up on him. And now you were watching your boy kill it on his dream stage, though you were worried something could happen to him again. Your teeth sunk hard onto your bottom lip until it formed a cut, but the pain didn't even register until you heaved a sigh of relief as your boyfriend scores another lay-up. 4 points gap.

All is good so far. They were closing the gap, and they had a chance to win. Everything is going well.

However, the sense of relief quickly crashed down as you looked at the clock and realised there was only about 4 minutes and 38 seconds left, panic starting to grow in you again. Everything was happening so quickly, you didn't even want to blink and your eyes were starting to dry out. You grabbed the waterbottle that was placed beside you and opened the cap, gulping down on it as you kept your eyes fixated on the ball, your eyes following it as it constantly gets passed from player to player.

Your breathing starts to pace up as you feel the anxiety inside you accumulate. Heeseung dribbles the ball, trying to strive in for a lay-up until the opponent brutally knocks into him onto the ground. You gasped loudly and stood up, your hand flying to your mouth as the crowd let out loud multiple "oooh" and "ahh"'s. The referee instantly blew his whistle and announced that there was a foul, giving Heeseung the opportunity to get 2 free-throws.

At this point, you didn't even care that Heeseung had the opportunity to score extra points to close the gap. You were only worried if he had gotten hurt in any way, watching as his teammates help him up from the ground and how his hand shakes more aggressively than earlier. You slowly sat back down on your seat, biting your lip and even tasting your own blood as you placed the palms of your hand together, almost as if you were praying to God that everything would be okay.

The camera panned to Heeseung who stood behind the free-throw line, bouncing the ball on the spot as he stares at the basketball net intensely, mentally taking his aim. His teammates and opponents all stared at him intensely, this nerve-wrecking moment possibly being a game-changer. The timer stopped, allowing Heeseung to take his own time to score, and as he picked up the ball, he shot his shot, his right hand dangling in the air.

One shot in. 3 points gap.

Everyone around you cheered and you felt the tension inside you ease down, realising that if he could still shoot just fine, he was probably okay and a small smile appeared on your face, praying for the best for his next shot. If he makes this shot, the gap between the two different teams would only be 2 points, and there was a high chance for them to be able to tie this quarter, and maybe even score more points than the other team if all goes well.

The room grew quiet, everyone staring at Heeseung as he bounces the ball once again, his eyes on the hoop as he takes aim once again, bringing the ball to his face just slightly below his eyes, and he takes his shot again, the ball going in and the number on the scoreboard for his team going up. Everyone cheered and you stood up again, bringing your hands to cover your face as you felt emotional. Your boyfriend was going to achieve his dreams of winning, you just know it, and you were going to be there to experience this achievement with him.

2 points to close the gap. 2 points until his dreams could possibly come true.

Heeseung roared out loud, looking at the camera once again, showing a rock hand gesture to the camera which you knew damn well was directed to you. You and him always enjoyed doing the rock hand gesture to tell each other "I love you" in sign language. You could see people in your peripheral vision mirroring Heeseung's hand gesture, and your heart warms up as you eventually do the same.

With the last 4 minutes and few seconds remaining, you can immediately feel the change in atmosphere. If the atmosphere was fierce earlier, you could say this one was suffocatingly intense. In the last few minutes, getting an opportunity to score was getting increasingly impossible and your worry returns once again, all the thoughts washing over you. You knew he could do it, you knew he had the skills to do it, but with the clock running, you'd hate to admit that your brain is starting to have second thoughts.

Since the quarter scoreboard was still a 1:2, if they win this quarter, the game would be tied and the game masters would then look at the total number of points scored. In the first quarter, Hee's team won with 34 points. Second quarter, the opponents won with 42 points, and 23 on the next. So this means the opponents currently have a total of 65 points, and if Hee's team is going to win, they'd need a total of 66 points, which also means 32 points alone in this quarter.

You looked at the current scoreboard, noticing how their current scores were a 30:32. 2 more points to catch up, and 3 more to take the lead and secure their win.

The fourth minute passes by, the ball being aggressively passed across the court and fought for.

The third minute passes by, and up till now none of the teams score. Your hands aggressively fidget against each other, and the audience grew silent, attentively watching as the match progresses.

The second minute, the opponents almost manage to score a lay-up, but Riki managed to block and get the rebound, managing to pass the ball to Sunghoon who dribbed swiftly across the court.

The last minute. The last minute for any magic to happen. Up till now, no teams have scored, and the supporters for the opponent team have basically relaxed in their seats, being sure that their team have secured their win already. You remained silent, along with the other supporters and you felt sweat trickle down your temple. Your breathing slowed down as your eyes flickered from player to player.

It was so evident that all the players were tired, and that they just wanted for everything to be over, and when you looked at Heeseung, the exhausted expression on his face broke your heart. He brushed his damp hair back with his hand, wiping his forehead with his jersey as he observed the opponent approaching him, preparing to make an attack.

30 seconds.

The opponent managed to dribble past him, catching Heeseung off-guard and causing him to fall on his butt. Your face turned sour as you watched the scene unfold in front of your very eyes, watching how the opponent picks up the ball to do a lay-up while Heeseung was still on the ground.

25 seconds.

Jake jumps in front of the opponent, successfully jumping the ball from going in and the ball flew to the air, all the athletes eyeing the ball and finding every opportunity to get the rebound. Sunghoon jumped into the air and took the ball, an opponent running up to him in an attempt to snatch the ball away.

20 seconds.

Sunghoon and the opponent continue to snatch, Sunghoon yelling out that he needed someone to be open, and Jake immediately responded to his call, stepping into an area where there were no defenders. Sunghoon successfully wins the ball, and passes the ball to Jake, and you could see Heeseung standing back up to his feet, his state so obviously weakened.

15 seconds.

Jake now has the ball, and he dribbles across the court. Heeseung was still at the opposite end of the court, at the brink of fainting as his teammates try their damn best to score at least another shot. Jake was frantically blocked by the opponents, not having any opportunities to strive in or shoot, so he tries to find anyone open to pass to.

"Heeseung! C'mon!" Jake calls out, immediately causing Heeseung to snap back and run towards the other court where all the other athletes were.

10 seconds.

Heeseung runs outside the 3-pointer line, holding his hands up for Jake to pass the ball to him, but one of the opponents constantly block the pathway between Jake and Heeseung, making it difficult for Heeseung to be able to receive the ball. However, there was a moment when the opponent let his guard down, allowing Jake to successfully pass the ball to Heeseung.

5 seconds.

Heeseung, standing outside the 3-pointer line, takes his last chance to shoot his shot, praying that this shot makes it.

Everyone remained silent, their eyes watching the ball.

The sounds of the ball perfectly falling in between the hoop echoed through the whole hall, and the ball bouncing on the ground after the shot was the only thing that could be heard.

They did it. They won.

33:32. Quarter scores were a 2:2, but with the points accumulated, they won.

The referee blew his whistle to indicate the end of the quarter, and he announced, "Winning team, ENHA!".

All his teammates cheered, and you couldn't believe it. Your jaw dropped, and you could feel tears forming in your eyes from how elated you felt. You watched Heeseung, observing as he scans the crowd, and as he spots you, his face immediately lighting up with a wide grin. He's now walking towards you.

Walking. Jogging. He's running. Running to you, sprinting, even.

You subconsciously walk towards him on the bleachers, watching him approach you behind the railings and once he was at close proximity, he opened his arms and embraced you. Embraced you so tightly you felt like you were going to explode. You hugged him back with the same amount of tightness, feeling the tears escape your eyes, having no words to explain how jubilant you felt. You both exchanged no words, but he knew how proud you were of him. Multiple reporters surround him, holding their cameras to him to take photos of him and capture the moment between the two of you. He pulled back from the hug to immediately cup your cheeks and pull his lips to yours.

You cried into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and he kissed you so passionately. His mouth moved in such a slow rhythm, taking his time to enjoy how perfect your lips were on his, how you complemented him so well. You felt your heart pick up the pace, almost feeling like it was going to explode, and you immediately felt blood rush to your cheeks. Loud cheers could be heard from every corner of the room, but with his lips on yours, the sounds gradually started to fade, the only thing that mattered being you and Heeseung.

Heeseung didn't experience this win alone, he experienced it with you.

He pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as he intensely looks into your eyes to form eye contact and he gives you his cheeky smile. "I did it. We did it, love."

"You did it," you look at him as tears continue to flow out of your eyes, caressing his cheek and he laughs at how emotional you were. He used both of his thumbs to wipe your tears, cupping your jaw as he gives you the smile that made you fall in love with him

"We.. did it. I couldn't have done this without you, love," he stares at you, his eyebrows arching upwards as he gives you his cute pout. The way he emphasised 'We' didn't go unnoticed, and you laugh, leaning in closer and your noses touch, closing your eyes as you give him the biggest smile.

"I'm so proud of you baby, hope you know that." "I know that very well." "Anyways, what're you doing with me? You should go celebrate with your teammates," you chuckled, and your chest felt fuzzy at how the first thing he did was run to you. "I don't need to," he retorts. "What about your trophy, baby?" you pouted. "The only trophy I need is already here with me."

You chuckled at how cheesy he sounded, opening your eyes only to be met with his serious gaze.

"I'm being serious, Y/N, you're the only thing I could care about at this moment," he confessed. You felt butterflies fill your stomach as your hands playfully smack his chest. "Thank you Heeseung, for winning." "I love you," he blurts out, which catches you off-guard but you laughed at how genuine he was. "I love you more."

And he pulled you into another kiss to celebrate his victory.

cly's tmi. before this song trended on tiktok and the olympics started, my friend and i had already talked about this song and i've been wanting to write about it for like.. 3 months now. i'm so happy i finally managed to do it, and can i just talk about how SWEET this song is? i don't really listen to taylor swift much but this song hits so hard.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 32

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Threats of SA; Threats of harming an infant; Distressed baby

Rick had stopped at every sign, letting you out while Carol or Lori cared for Birdie. You had used a tube of the baby’s diaper cream to paint a white bird on each surface. There were likely better things you have used but this one, you knew Daryl would understand and follow. Anxiety was slowly crushing your chest and try as you might to swallow it down, it was nearly impossible to bear.

It was at least an hour of Birdie crying restlessly before the warehouse was found. The dead surrounding it were little in number, easily dispatched by those that weren’t a child, pregnant woman, or one who had a baby suckling at her breast. You carried a bag on each shoulder into the building, wishing it were enough to help you feel like you were doing your part. 

You sat away from the door, knowing that’s where Daryl would have placed you and his daughter, furthest from any entry point. It was also to hinder her cries from attracting anymore walkers. She was inconsolable, something—mother’s intuition, perhaps—telling you that she had been made worse by the absence of her father. And as much as you loved their bond, you wondered how dangerous it could prove to be to encourage it. 

“I said leave it, Lori!”

Your head snapped up to find Rick stalking toward the door with his wife on his heels, her hands below her protruding belly as she attempted to keep up with him. “Rick. Rick, we need to talk this out!”

“No!” He barked. “What we need to do is survive, and we can’t do that if I don’t stay focused.” When she tried again, he turned with a shake of his head, leaving her there with tears in her eyes. 

“Lori.” You whispered, getting to your feet. It was difficult to get off the floor with a baby but you managed. You couldn’t stand to see her like that. No, Lori wasn’t perfect and she made a mistake. She had been alone with a child, acting out of fear once she had been told her husband was dead. Maybe she had loved Shane. Maybe she hadn’t. No one talked about it and perhaps they shouldn’t. It was all irrelevant anyway. Lori was there and pregnant and hurting so deeply. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hey, uh—” The woman turned and wiped at her eyes as if you hadn’t already noticed the glimmer of moisture. “Hey, Y/N.” Her eyes were drawn down to the wriggling bundle in your arms, little squeaks and sniffles escaping from behind the blanket. “How’s little Birdie?”

“She’s fine.” You lied, flinching when the newborn screeched. Taking a moment to move her onto your shoulder and begin patting her back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I think she’s missing Daryl.”

“Yeah.” A gentle hand reached to pet the back of Birdie’s head. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Lori was always so strong for everyone, her thoughts on the decisions that would affect the group never going unspoken. But then, at that moment, she sounded so small, so uncertain. 

“Don’t be.” You caught her hand before she could pull it back, holding it tightly. “I love Rick but he’s wrong. He’s wrong and he’ll realize it. I’m just so sorry that he’s hurting you like this in the meantime.” You stood by your words. Rick was trying to do what was right for the group, but even that was being influenced by the anger he harbored. For Shane. For Lori. For himself. 

“I deserve it.”

You blinked, mouth agape. “You do not!” You shook your head incredulously. “Look, you made a mistake. Doesn’t mean you need to pay for it over and over.” She mimicked you, her hair swinging back and forth. 

“No, I really do.”

“Lori.” You said pointedly. She looked you in the eye, face wet and flushed. “I get it. You were angry with him for what he did to Shane. It was a lot to take in and maybe your first reaction wasn’t the best one, but you’re trying to talk now, trying to understand. He’ll come around.” You gave a shrug. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll sic Daryl on him.” You smiled when she laughed wetly. 

Lori reached for your shoulders, pulling you in for a wide hug that angled to one side, Birdie and her belly making it laughable. “Thank you, Y/N.” She wiped her face with one hand, cupping yours with the other. “You know, I was a fool for thinking you were trouble when Daryl carried you out of those trees. I’m sorry for that.”

You waved dismissively with a quiet pfft. “Don’t worry about it. I am trouble.” Her smile dampened but didn’t disappear. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Birdie began to root against your neck with a series of coos and squeaks. “And we wouldn’t have this angel if you weren’t.”

Chuckling you began to wiggle your arm out of your shirt, Lori stepping forward to help. “Now if I can just get her daddy to eat as much as she does, we’ll be set.” Before you could situate your bra, the baby began to fuss, growing louder with each cry. 

“Well, she sure sounds like her father.” 

“Facts.” You nodded, grinning and guiding Birdie to your breast. “Grab Carl and come sit with me? We can work on some math.”

The sun had set, the knot in your chest growing tighter with each minute that Daryl didn’t walk through the door. Beth had taken Birdie to give you a few minutes of peace with Carol sitting just behind you. 

“He’ll be here. Daryl’s smart. And so are you for the signs you left for him.” She was brushing your hair, pampering you the only ways she knew how with the limited means at her disposal. 

“I hope he’s okay. What if he’s hurt? What if he ran into the herd?” You were twisting the front of the sweater you had thrown on when the temperature had dropped even lower. 

“He’s smart, Y/N.” You heard the quiet sound of the brush being sat aside. The woman’s hands began to work at your shoulders, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from her. “He’ll be here.” You nodded, hearing Birdie begin to cry in the back of the warehouse. 

“I’m being summoned.” You jested. Carol was smiling when you turned around and levered to your feet. Birdie was still crying, the sound echoing like a scene out of a horror movie. “Carol.” Your voice had gone low, serious. “Why isn’t Beth bringing her?”

“She’s likely trying to soothe her on her own. She looks up to you and wants to help.”

Beth looked up to you? Oh, that poor child. You were no one’s role model. 

You listened for a moment more, your brow creasing, lips turning downward in a deep frown. “Carol.” You waited for her reply before continuing. “You remember how you told me that I would be able to tell the difference between cries?”

“Yeah?”

“I think this one is telling me something’s wrong.” Your stomach was churning, the knot of anxiety twisting in your chest was no longer for Daryl but for Birdie, a deep sense of foreboding that your child was affirming. Something. Was. Wrong. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go check in then.” 

You nodded, feet moving with such haste that it took the other woman a quick jog to catch up. Birdie’s squalling had reached a new level, the breaths between cries barely audible in their stuttering. Without thought, you began to run, your tired body attempting to futilely resist. 

“Beth? Carl?” You shouted, the sounds of snarls and hands slapping the outside of the building growing louder with each inch of space you covered. “Beth!” The girl wasn’t answering. Lori and Maggie frantically called your name from somewhere behind you but Birdie’s desperate wails for her mother easily drowned them out. 

When you saw her, so small and fragile on the cold concrete, little limbs flailing, nothing else mattered. There was no blanket. No knit hat on her head. She was in only a diaper. 

“Oh god, Birdie!” What happened? Where were Beth and Carl? You didn’t stop, you needed your baby in your arms. The reasoning no longer mattered. You needed to ensure her well being before asking any questions. Nearly there, you exhaled. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

Without breaking stride, you turned toward Rick’s voice just in time to see the butt of the rifle. 

And then there was nothing.

Your head was throbbing, your pulse finding its way up to where the wet warmth was leaking from just above your right eyebrow. Struggling to open your eyes, you strained to focus through the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of dead hands on the building’s exterior, desperately locating your baby’s panicked screeching. 

“Birdie.” You whispered, certain it was slurring. Your mouth just couldn’t form around the syllables. When everything finally cleared, you could see her. The tremble from the cold shook her tiny form. “Oh my god.” You whispered, attempting to struggle to your feet only to find that your hands were bound to a weighty shipping palette. 

Subduing your panic long enough to survey your surroundings, the glow of three kerosene lamps cast a pale yellow luminosity over the entirety of your group—similarly bound—with Rick and Beth struggling against the rope while the other heads remained bowed in a subdued level of unconsciousness. You turned your attention back to your newborn and renewed your fight against the restraints, your skin chafing and breaking open. 

“Mama’s here, baby girl.” Birdie would not be consoled. If anything, she grew more agitated. 

“So you’re the one stupid enough to have a shit-smearing biter magnet.” 

Your head snapped to the left, toward the roll-up doors. A group you hadn’t noticed leaned against the metal, armed to the teeth and reeking of mayhem. 

“The fuck do you want?” You snarled, a protective mother’s venom lacing every word. 

The single woman in the posse laughed, malicious and entertained. “Some fun.” She shrugged, her face split into a grin that made your teeth itch. “That’s really all there is left in this world. Survival and fun.” Lowering her rifle from its perch on her shoulder, she crossed the distance between the two of you and crouched. “We’re gonna take everything you have.” A finger traced your jawline, down your neck and circled your clothed nipple. “Everything.”

“Then we’re gonna let that gremlin bring the biters in to take care of the rest.” One of the men added without so much as a glance away from his handgun, the walkers growing louder as if they could hear and comprehend the promise of a fresh meal. 

Giving your breast a squeeze, the woman stood, scanning your group appreciatively before her eyes lingered on Lori. “Boys, you can take that one. I got no interest in that full belly.” She pointed the barrel of her gun at you. You never so much as flinched, your baby’s wails fueling a rage you’d never before felt. “I want her. And the kids.”

“You’re vile.” Hershel said in that level tone that usually ground on your nerves. In that moment, you found it more than fitting. 

“Ugh,” the female rolled her eyes. “Kill him first. No one wants those wrinkly old balls in their face.”

The words left you before you could even consider their consequences. “You’re gonna die today.” When she smirked at you, your steely glare remained. She lowered to a knee and pressed the muzzle into your chin. You barely contained a wince when your head was forced to tilt back. 

“What I’m gonna do is fuck that ruined pussy with this rifle and listen to your baby scream.”

Twisting onto your left hip, you brought up your right leg, your boot connecting with her temple just as she sat back. “Bitch.” You seethed, watching her topple over. Another man rushed you, his fist snapping your head to the side, reigniting the stars in your vision that you had only just managed to lose. 

“She’s gonna be fun, boys.” Staggering to her feet, she stumbled over to Birdie and pointed the rifle at the infant’s head. “Maybe I’ll just shoot the little one and let your screams bring the biters in when we’re done with you.”

“No!” Your anger faded to fear within a split second, the various voices of your then conscious and collective group pleading for your baby’s life. “Okay, okay. I’ll cooperate!” You bartered. “Just wrap her up. Please.” 

“I don’t think so, mama bear.” 

A noise from the front of the warehouse drew her attention, but not yours. Your wide, wet eyes were glued to that gun aimed at your daughter. Please, Daryl.

“Think the biters got in?” An older guy asked, hocking up mucus and spitting it at your feet. 

“Maybe. Go check it out.”

He obliged with a shrug, whistling the entire way until he disappeared into the darkness. 

The taunting continued, the other three group members moving from person to person, pointing out in disturbingly vivid detail what they liked or disliked about that individual. You paid them no more mind, instead watching the little contorted red face of your baby girl. You couldn’t warm her, comfort her. How could I let this happen?

“What the fuck?” 

Blinking back the fat tears you had given silent permission to fall, you followed everyone’s perplexed gazes toward the front of the warehouse. The old man staggered out of the darkness, a spray of blood his predecessor. His throat was gaping wide. 

“Gary?” The woman hyperventilated, her rifle nearly falling from suddenly inept fingers as his body collapsed to the concrete, not to move again. He must have meant something to her. 

Good. You smiled wryly. 

“Come out!” One of the other men shouted, prompting crazy lady to raise her own weapon. 

Your eyes flickered back to Birdie, yanking and wiggling against your bonds again, the ropes wet with your blood and unyielding. The baby was wearing herself out, cries simmering to shivering breaths and hiccups. The ropes did not give. Bitch could tie a knot, you’d give her that. 

“Oh.” The woman’s voice was suddenly excited as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I think papa bear’s joined the party.” She made a show of deliberately placing herself just above Birdie, moving her rifle a fraction of an inch before you watched Daryl, blood-saturated and dirty, step out of the shadows.

“Don’t point that thing at ‘er again.” He wasn’t pleading. He was demanding. 

The woman’s eyes sparkled, her free hand covering her mouth in an oopsie expression while she redirected the gun—finger on the trigger—right at you. “Is this better, your majesty?” In a flurry of clicks and shouted warnings, Daryl’s crossbow was aimed at her while all other weapons held him in their crosshairs. 

“M’a give ya one chance to walk outta here.”

She cackled, throwing back her head. “I don’t think you’re—”

“One chance.” Daryl repeated, his mouth unseen from behind his weapon. “Ya’d do well to take it.” There was a tremble to his frame visible even from the distance that lay between you. If you could see it, so could they. The only difference being that you knew it wasn’t from fear. 

“I want him too.” The woman jerked her chin toward your partner. “Put down the bow, pretty boy. You’re not gonna waste any ammo today.”

“Won’t be a waste.” With a quick twist of his torso, three things happened simultaneously: The crossbow fired. The ropes around your wrists went slack, the sleek length of the bolt pressing just against your skin. And Daryl stepped back into the shadows, a barrage of bullets following his retreat. 

With the enemies’ attention on the unknown whereabouts of the archer, you scrambled across the floor and scooped up your baby, throwing yourself backward onto your ass to slide behind the pallets that had held you. Her skin was so chilled, her tiny frame shivering as her distressed cries renewed in their intensity. 

“Mama’s got you, baby. Daddy’s here. Daddy came for us. It’s okay.” One arm at a time, you managed to pull yourself free of your sweater and bundled her up. You drew up your knees and held her close to your chest, shielding and warming her simultaneously. “They won’t touch you again.” 

Glass shattered, the area dimming as a bolt destroyed one of the old lamps. 

“Come out, you bastard!” 

Another lamp fell victim to Daryl’s aim. 

“Where is he?”

With a final sound that echoed for more than a moment, the environment was cast into darkness with only the myriad of gunfire battling the shadows that Daryl was using to his advantage. With each discharge, you curled tighter around your daughter, her howls splintering every inch of your heart. You longed to hold her properly, soothe her, fight away the fear that clawed relentlessly to sink its claws into such a space of innocence. You wanted to join the fray, rip out their throats, but Birdie needed you exactly where you were.

And she would always come first.

The number of weapons that fired continued to dwindle, the cling of metal against the concrete preceded by a shout or gurgle. 

Your archer was taking them down one by one. 

You wanted to see it, wanted to witness them suffer, even if it was for a mere moment but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk Birdie’s safety. 

“Someone get him!”

“Where the hell  is he?!”

“The fuck should I—” Another gurgle, another thud. 

“Fuck!” The woman screamed, her voice carrying from somewhere further away. You couldn’t be certain if Daryl had intercepted her or if she was simply fleeing, but as long as she was far away from your group—your family—you didn’t care. 

“Y/N.” Carol’s voice somehow managed to break through the chaos in your head, your eyes searching her out in the darkness. “Y/N, he got them. Can you—” 

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, unfurling from around Birdie to shuffle blindly forward, bowed over the little bundle to ensure you didn’t knock her into anything that might be in your way. “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

You found Rick first, cutting his ropes one-handed with a piece of glass from one of the lamps. Lucky you, it had been found by sliding your knee over it. 

“Take care of her, I’ll get everyone else.” He instructed. You nodded, knowing the deputy couldn’t see but it was all you had in you at that moment. 

“Where’s Daryl?” Beth asked, her young mind falling right into sync with yours. 

Why hadn’t he come to you immediately? Was he hurt? Had he given chase to the woman? 

You squinted against the flashlight’s beam, one eye clenching shut as you found Carol kneeling over one of the men, a bolt lodged in the right side of his neck. His head was at an odd angle, suggesting that the puncture had not been the end for him. 

With your family surrounding you, all eyes wide and cautious, looking for danger, watching for Daryl, you finally settled but only in the slightest. Muscles still tense, you shifted Birdie, drawing up your knees to place her on your elevated thighs. 

“Hey, there, little Dixon. Ssh, it’s all okay now.” Slipping a hand beneath the sweater, the relief of feeling warming skin nearly brought you to collapse. 

“How is she doing?” Hershel asked, his voice elevated to be heard clearly over the distraught infant. Your strength was nearly at its end. 

“She’s cold, Hershel. It—the sweater’s helping but she’s still so cold.” Your fingers were stroking her cheeks, brushing through wispy blonde hair, rubbing her belly over the sweater while careful of the drying umbilical cord. 

“Babies are resilient, Y/N. And this little doll just happens to have the genes of one of the most stubborn men I have had the pleasure of knowing.” A gentle hand rested on your shoulder. “I’d like to take a look at her all the same. May I?”

With a sniffle, you lifted Birdie, her tiny head just beneath your chin. One last gentle squeeze, you supported her head and passed her over to the veterinarian, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stood. You must have looked a wreck, but you needed to find Daryl, needed to hold him almost as desperately as you had needed to cling to your child. 

“Please! Just let me go!”

You spun where you stood, searching out the woman. “Daryl?”

“Were ya gonna let them go?” Daryl’s voice was menacing, his tone low and bleeding with promise of maleficence. You were acutely aware of others trailing as you followed the voices, moving boxes and stepping around tools to climb the stairs to the second level.  

“I—”

“Mm-mm. Don’t.” He spat, the sound of more containers falling over against the wall. “Don’t bother.” 

He came into view a little at a time, more with each step you climbed. His crossbow was on the floor. His crimson hands were empty. Still, the woman cowered, backing toward the windows with her body folded, palms up over her head in surrender. 

“Daryl!” You tried, but he didn’t acknowledge you. 

“Just let me go. I’m the only one left and I—Please, I don’t wanna die.”

Suddenly your feet wouldn’t carry you, heavy laden and stuck to the floor with the weight of your disbelief. You wanted to laugh just as much as you wanted to pluck the knife strapped to Daryl’s hip and slit her throat yourself. 

“Ya threatened my girl. Ya wanted to use my daughter as walker bait!” The archer hissed, his fingers flexing in and out of fists. “A fuckin’ baby an’ ya wanted to kill ‘er.”

You could hear the others at the top of the stairs, halting just behind you with the same interest of watching the scene play out, trusting Daryl to do what was right. 

But what was right?

“Ain’t gonna kill ya.” He finally said, tilting his head as the woman began to stand straight, the fear dissolving before your eyes. Daryl was a better person than you could ever be. If he walked away, it was going to take every single individual on that landing to restrain you. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. Thank you. I’ll disappear, I’ll change. I won’t—”

He moved so fast, grabbing her shoulders while driving the sole of his boot straight into her knee, the sickening snap of bone causing your stomach to roll while a sense of vindication washed over you. 

She needed to hurt. She needed to suffer.

Her screams stimulated the walkers around the building, their rotten fingers scraping against the metal, palms pounding, teeth gnashing. 

Daryl spoke loudly, holding her up by fistfuls of her shirt, his face inches from hers. “Said I ain’t gonna kill ya. Never said ya weren’t gonna die.” He shoved her, his boot once again connecting with her body, a kick to the abdomen with enough force to send her soaring backward. She crashed through the window, nothing but the splintered wood and shards of glass accompanying her to the ground.

Straight into the herd of ravenous undead. 

And her blood curdling wails of agony were music to your ears. 

[obsesssedblerd]

“Are… Are you sure that you don’t want me to go with you?” 

At Choso’s question, Yuuji Itadori stops packing his bag for school and turns to face him. Is he nervous? Of course, but he’s in high school now. If he doesn’t start doing things on his own now, then he never will. After placing one of the bag’s straps on one shoulder, he gives him an easy smile. “I’ll be fine, aniki,” he says softly. “I promise.” 

His older brother doesn’t look too convinced, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he smiles in return and ruffles his pink hair. “Alright, have a good first day. Call me if you need anything.”

Yuuji rides to school on his bike—a neat birthday present from his uncle Sukuna. That guy is wild and reckless, but anyone could tell that he had a soft spot for both Yuuji and Choso, and made sure that they had everything that they needed. When he arrives, he maneuvers his way through crowds of equally-nervous first years, already being approached by second and third years looking for members to join their clubs that meet after school. Choso recommended to Yuuji that he join a club, but he didn’t know exactly which one to join. 

A boy his age walks past him, and Yuuji stops, his eyes slightly widening as he takes in the sight of him. Though he’s wearing a uniform like everyone else, Yuuji decides that it looks the best on him. He’s tall and fair-skinned, and his dark hair is spiky—a little messy, too, but it looks good. His eyes—the prettiest pair that Yuuji has ever seen in his fifteen years of living—are a dark blue and framed with long lashes, and Yuuji’s immediately trying to memorize the exact shade. 

Whoa. 

He wants to say hi, but he notices the headphones on the boy’s ears. Should he introduce himself? Hi, I’m Yuuji Itadori. I think you’re pretty- What? No, that’s ludicrous. Hey, dude, I’m Yuuji, we should totally be friends, by the way you’re cute. Ugh, still a bit ridiculous. He needs to think of something different. Maybe-

“Hey, don’t hit it over there! The door’s wide open!!” A student from inside the gymnasium shouts, and suddenly, a sports ball flies in the direction of the boy Yuuji’s been stupidly staring at. It’s coming too fast, and when Yuuji warns him, it’s not loud enough for him to hear over his music. 

Thinking quickly, Yuuji dashes and then jumps high, slamming the ball away before it could hit him in the head. Because of it, he crashes into him, and they both fall to the ground. The boy underneath him groans, and Yuuji gasps, scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand to help him up. “I’m so sorry!” He says, a little breathless from his running and from how cute this dark-haired boy is, “That ball was going to hit you, and um, I tried calling out to you but your headphones were on. Are you alright?!” 

He blinks a couple of times, then looks over at the ball, which another student is retrieving, a little stunned from watching Yuuji hit it. “I’m alright,” he mumbles. “Thank you.” He gently grabs his hand, and Yuuji pulls him up. As he watches him brush his uniform off, numerous sentences to break the ice rapidly bounce back and forth in Yuuji’s mind. Finally, he settles on one. “Uh, nice headphones.” They do look quite expensive. His parents must make a lot of money.

“Thanks,” he mumbles again. Hm, not much of a talker. 

Yuuji doesn’t mind. He flashes him his usual grin. “What’s your name?”

“Fushiguro.” 

Ah, last name. “I’m Itadori.” 

“Nice meeting you, Itadori,” he says, then readjusts the bag on his shoulder. “See you around. Thanks again.” 

“Oh, uh, see you later!” Yuuji calls as he begins to walk off, feeling very excited all of a sudden. He’ll definitely be seeing him around. 

He smiles to himself, then begins to brush off his clothes. “Fushiguro, huh?” he mutters, then becomes aware of just how heated his face was. No, just a hot day. Totally not blushing. 

“You there!!” 

Yuuji looks over to see the student that retrieved the ball he hit earlier pointing at him. “Uh… me?” he asks after looking around to see if anyone else was nearby.

“Yes, you!” The student is more on the shorter side, with bright orange hair and a determined grin. “What’s your name?” 

“Yuuji Itadori. I’m a first year.” 

“Shoyo Hinata, also a first year!” He exclaims excitedly. “Are you thinking about joining the volleyball club?! That spike was incredible!!”

-----

a/n: yuuji and shoyo would've been the BEST of friends. the way i screamed when reading jjk265 and learning that yuuji grew up in (or around?) sendai. his ass should've been at karasuno worrying about making it to nationals instead of fighting these damn curses lmfaoooo

[eternalgirlscout]

sometimes i reawaken my riz & kalina brainworms and i go reread the bits and pieces of a fic that's been sitting in my google docs since 2020. i do NOT remember the plot i had planned but it was an au where kalina kidnapped riz when he was ~5 and was planning to raise him as her little baby assassin. pok and sklonda eventually got him back after kalina burned their apartment building down to try to kill them, and riz came out of the experience with fucked up (mechanically soulknife rogue) powers that he is incapable of being responsible with and a little taste of Evil Cat Babysitter Trauma. i don't think i'm ever going to finish it, and it's not enough for a full ao3 post, but have this section that almost works on its own:

The Sword of Shadows works in the cell—that is, it teleports him far enough to be rebuffed by a wall, then makes up the rest of the Misty Step’s thirty feet by throwing him back across the room. Riz bounces between the floor, walls, and ceiling like a screensaver. Across the hall, Fig, still disguised as Agent Worrell, tracks the movement with all the enthusiastic confusion of a cat with a laser pointer.

“The Ball,” Fabian grouses from his cell. “Stop. It’s not going to work.”

“I’m—trying—to—” Riz replies in staccato snaps as he vanishes and reappears. At last, the sword runs out of distance. He’s deposited, scowling, in the middle of the floor.

“Leave him alone, Fabian,” Adaine says. She shoots another finger of Ray of Frost at the visibly unfrozen lock of her own cell door. “At least he’s trying.”

“I beat up my dad and talked to my bike!” Fabian whines. “So don’t talk to me about trying, alright? God.” He hunches down on the prison cot and turns toward the back wall.

Riz looks down at the sword in his hand. Its black blade doesn’t shine. There is no oil slick iridescence, but rather a line of darkness, of absence, like a hole in space. That perfect blackness clicks in the back of his mind. It blends perfectly into another shape, a slinking presence—he remembers, suddenly, how the plaque in the arcade said the Sword of Shadows was forged.

“Huh.” Riz packs the sword into his briefcase. He makes sure everything is there: old arquebus, business cards, Gukgak gun, crystal.

“What are you doing?” Fig asks. Adaine looks up and squints at Riz, packing his things as if for a trip.

“Probably? I’m about to bounce around my cell again,” Riz admits. “But I have an idea.” He closes his eyes, points himself at the hallway outside the cells, and—

Whoosh.

“The Ball! What the fuck—”

Riz opens his eyes to find himself six inches from Fabian’s startled face as it shifts into reflexive annoyance.

“Shit.” Riz leans back against the wall.

“How did you do that?” Kristen cries, able to see into the cell that Riz and Fabian now share. 

Gorgug cries a long “Aaah!”

“What did you—Riz, did you just Misty Step again?” Adaine’s voice sounds frantic with confusion. “I thought you could only do that once per day, and—why did it work that time? Well, not work, but. You made it to a different cell?”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a Misty Step,” Riz explains. He walks over to the bars of the cell to see if he can peer out and look at Adaine. “It was my, uh, my teleport thing. I thought it might be different.”

“You could fucking teleport this whole time?” Fig cries.

Riz blinks.

“Yeah,” he says. “I thought you guys knew that.”

“No!” Adaine, Fig, Kristen, and Fabian say in unison.

“Did I know that?” Gorgug asks.

Riz shrugs. “I guess you do now. It’s not that impressive. I don’t have a lot of control over where I end up.”

“And you can just… do that?” Fabian asks.

“I can, yeah. It’s, it’s a long story.”

“So,” Fabian looks pointedly back at Riz’s empty cell, “you can, ah, go back to your own room?”

“Wowww,” Kristen says.

Like an explosion went off, the rest of the party starts talking over one another to admonish Fabian for being rude, who huffs, “Oh, sorry, I’m supposed to just share my tiny cot that I barely fit on while we are all in prison together, is that it?”

“The cots are pretty small,” Gorgug admits quietly. “My legs hang off the end.”

“Fabian’s barely taller than I am,” Kristen laughs.

“That is not true—”

“‘Ey, ‘ey, ‘ey, what’s goin’ on in here?” One of the beat cops rushes down the hall. “What’s the—Hey! Where’d he go?” The cop jumps cartoonishly at seeing Riz’s empty cell. “Aw jeez, aw man, we gotta catch the little guy. All units, we got another one busted out.”

“Not busted out!” Riz pipes up, at the same time Fig says, “Yeah, and he locked me in this cell too!” as Angela Worrell. 

Agent Worrell herself strides down the cell block a moment later.

“Get back to your desk, officer. None of you are permitted to speak to any of these children again, am I clear?” Her sharp eyes spy Riz—who is, admittedly, making absolutely no effort to hide. “How the fuck did you get over there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, you fake bitch?” Fig taunts. Agent Worrell pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.

-

Riz sleeps poorly anywhere and everywhere. Jail is no exception.

In Ballaster, the train comes through every night at three forty-six in the morning, give or take. Despite the many moves, Riz has lived in orbit around the train tracks all his life. Half the time he’s awake when it chugs by anyway, but on the occasions he isn’t, it pulls him close to waking before the familiar rumble puts him back at ease.

The Elmville Police Station is nowhere near the train tracks, so every morning at three forty-six, Riz wakes up and finds himself startled by silence.

He pulls the thin blanket up to his chin and tries to wiggle into a more comfortable position. It’s well into spring, but the nights get chilly and the jail’s central heating has never been reliable. As Riz rolls onto his side, he catches sight of the dark hallway—and peering out of that darkness, right at him, a pair of eyes.

Riz freezes, prey-still. For a brief second he thinks the yellow gleam might be his mom, but the pupils are too slitted for how dark it is, the eyeshine too cold. Riz sits up. The shadow splits from the rest of the darkness, solidifying in a familiar silhouette of black against the darkvision gray of the rest of the world.

“Hey, kid,” she says. “You’re in a real pickle this time, huh?”

“I—” He swallows. A million questions rise in his throat. They cause a tightening not unlike the feeling of an oncoming sob.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept this visit on the down low, Riz,” she interrupts. “You won’t like what happens if you wake up one of your friends while I’m here.” She smiles. Her teeth are needles in a mouth that wants to reassure him and never will again.

Riz throws the blanket off and hops out of bed. His heart quakes like a bird in the rain. Cold floor on bare feet freezes his toes. He’s shaking from top to bottom, inside and out, but he forces himself to walk to the metal bars and wrap his hands around them, tilting his head up to look her in the eye. Her pupils expand and narrow again at his approach.

With a confidence he certainly doesn’t feel, silently pleading that his voice won’t crack, Riz asks, “What do you want, Kalina?”

“Not even a hello?” She crosses her arms. “It’s been a long time. You could stand to be more polite to a family friend.”

“No, I don’t think I could.”

Kalina sucks an offended breath in through her teeth. “Yikes. You were always such a sweet kid during our time together. What happened?”

Riz says nothing. He glares, hoping the green shine in his eyes conveys disdain instead of fear. He has plenty of both.

“Fine.” She puts paws in the air in a wry show of innocence. “No pleasantries. I get it. I’m just here to talk.”

“I’m not stopping you.” Riz doesn’t break eye contact, but his ears twitch as he listens for the sounds of his friends’ breathing. To his right, Kristen snores loudly enough to wake the dead; Gorgug mumbles in his sleep to his left. Adaine trances silently—Riz wonders if it would be easier to break her out of that than to wake up someone who properly sleeps. Fig is always restless, so at least her tossing and turning means she’s okay. Fabian is a silent lump in the darkness.

“Here’s my thought. We make it a game, like we used to. You remember the games we used to play, don’t you, Riz?”

“Nope,” Riz says through gritted teeth.

“We both know that’s not true. You were practicing earlier today! When you zipped into your friend’s cell over there. Am I right?” Kalina gestures over her shoulder, toward Fabian, and grins.

Riz bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes copper.

“How do you know about that?” he asks after a long moment. He hates that he can’t resist the question—hates that he’s giving her exactly what she clearly wants.

“Riz, honey.” She sounds so maternally patronizing, it makes him want to bite through his own tongue. “I know everything about you. You think I ever really left? I’ve been looking out for my guy.”

She reaches through the bars as if to ruffle his hair. He ducks away, a full cunning action disengage, before she can make contact. There is no flicker of hurt on her face, or even surprise, at the avoidance. Kalina pulls her paw back. She won’t stop fucking smiling.

“That’s what I came here to talk to you about,” she continues. “Getting out of this place.”

Riz freezes.

“You can get me and my friends out?”

Kalina cocks her head.

“You can get you out. I’ll tell you all about my cunning plan if you agree to play the game.”

“I’m not five years old,” Riz snarks. “I don’t want to play games with you anymore.”

“Oh, they grow up so fast.” She rolls her eyes. “Fine, since you’re a mature young man now, let’s call it a deal. A wager, even, if that soothes the trust issues you’ve clearly got going on.”

“Gee, wonder why,” Riz mutters under his breath. Kalina’s pupils expand, her only tell. A tell of what, Riz doesn’t have the familiarity to say. Not anymore.

“Here’s the deal: I tell you everything you need to know to be out of this jail by morning, and you,” she leans in, pupils razor-thin yet again, “don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

Riz stares. Kalina waits.

“We all get out by tomorrow?”

“There’s the catch. You’re sharp, kid. I see why you’re gunning for that investigator’s license.” She leans back into a relaxed posture and shakes her head. “It would just be you. Nobody else.”

“I’m not leaving without my friends,” Riz says without a moment’s hesitation. This is a hill he can die on. In the idiomatic sense, ideally.

“You’re not even curious? This isn’t the only time you’ll need to get out of a sticky situation, I can promise you that. Half of Spyre is littered with the bones of goblins who couldn’t get away quick enough.”

Riz’s icy fear melts. In its place flares a smoldering anger.

“I got away from you,” he says coldly.

Kalina tsks.

“This is exactly what always frustrated me about you, Riz. You’re so clever, but you can never just do the smart thing.”

She steps back from the door. Out of the dim aura of light coming in through the window of Riz’s cell, Kalina fades into shadow more than should be possible. Riz knows the kinds of things she can make possible. He keeps the shining points of her eyes in the center of his vision.

“There’s no point if I’m the only one escaping,” he says. “And I’m definitely not going with you.”

“Oh,” a laugh bleeds into Kalina’s voice, “I’m not bringing you with me anywhere. You’re always welcome, Riz, I hope I’ve made that clear, but you’re your own person. I just want to help.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m not lying to you. And, to prove it,” her smile gleams white in the darkness, “I’ll leave you with two pieces of information. Less than I would have given you if you’d taken my deal, but a hell of a lot more than nothing. Consider it a trade for sacrificing your precious sleep to listen to an old cat. Sound fair?”

Slowly, stiffly, Riz nods.

“This one’s a teaser for what I’d’ve spelled out for you if you weren’t hell bent on giving your old man a run for his money when it comes to obstinance. Pay attention, because I’ll only say it once.” She slinks closer. Even with darkvision, Riz can’t make out which swimming pieces of darkness are Kalina and which might be her shadow. The effect blurs the edges of what, in the light, is clearly a tabaxi into something nearly serpentine. “Your aim’s off.”

A beat passes, silent. Kalina doesn’t blink.

“What?” Riz croaks.

“I said what I said. That’s your problem, kid. The theory was sound, it’s just your shoddy aim. Why do you think you ended up in one of these other cells?” She glances over at Fabian’s sleeping form. Riz feels a brief flash of panic before she looks back to him, slitted eyes wide and questioning.

“The—there’s a ward, they must be connected—”

“Why don’t you ask your friend Adaine about how these spell sinks work? Ah—” Kalina holds up a paw when Riz is about to interrupt with another question. “I’ve already given away too much. You’re getting more for your money, expert haggler. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

The combination of praise and condescension pricks at a pair of tender reflex points in Riz’s brain: a need to please, and a need to prove any and all underestimation wrong. He doesn’t remember how she spoke to him years ago, but his dreams do. Apparently, she’s always known precisely how to press his buttons.

“And here’s the second thing,” Kalina continues. “Not a threat, just something to think about. Ready?”

“Ready,” Riz growls reluctantly.

“Think for a second about what your mom would do if she knew I came to see you.” Kalina lets a beat pass. “If you want, you can ask her what happened last time she came after me. Would you bet her life on her getting lucky twice?”

“How—” Riz cuts himself off and lowers his voice when he hears how loud he’s getting. “How is that not a threat?”

“Hey,” Kalina shrugs, “I’ve got nothing against Sklonda, but when you corner someone with claws, don’t be surprised when she scratches. Like I said,” she finally blinks, and something about the movement looks wrong, “think about it. Night, kid.”

With a wink, and a break in time like blinking or blacking out, Kalina disappears.

[analogwriting]

Beer Pong

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.3k a/n: this idea came to me while i was obliterated and playing beer pong. the only thing i could think of was how much i wanted killer to rail me. also disclaimer, i'm actually ASS at beer pong lmfao. also also, only one version of this one bc it doesn't quite go that far whoops

“C’mon! Who else wants to challenge the undefeated champ of beer pong?” Your voice was loud enough for people to hear over the thumping music of the party that you and your brother were hosting. 

It was the same every year. The two of you would host an end of the year party and invite all of your friends, have them invite their friends who invited their friends and so on. It was one of the biggest parties of the year every year. It’s been a tradition at this point for about five or six years.

“I think you’ve officially defeated everyone, Bigs.” Your younger brother, Kid, chimed as he walked into the room you were in. This was also the same every year. Those who have been to the parties before knew how ruthless you were at beer pong. Some of them never tried challenging you again, some would practice throughout the year just to take you on again. Newcomers also challenged you. However, no one was able to beat you for the past three years.

You huffed, folding your arms. “That’s so lame!” How much you drank didn’t affect your ability to win either. You were somewhat sloshed and still crushing everyone at the party.

“I’ll challenge them,” you heard a deep voice come from behind you. The room you were in had several different entrances. You looked behind you, seeing the finest piece of man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. Motherfucker took your breath away - almost. You blinked.

“Killer! You made it!” You turned, seeing your brother walking over to him to greet him. You watched in confusion for a moment. The hell kind of name was that? 

“Bigs, this is Killer, he’s one of the new teachers for one of my mechanics classes.” You blinked, nodding at him, still stunned by how unbelievably hot he was. 

“Killer, this is my older sibling, y/n.” Killer offered a small wave with a lazy smile that made your heart skip a beat and your body warm up. “‘S a pleasure. Heard a lot about you.”

You glared at your brother for a moment who shot his hands up in defense. “All good things, I promise.”

“Bullshit.”

He cackled, putting his hands back down. “You’re right.”

You felt your eye twitch, but you kept yourself in check. You looked to Killer. “You said you wanted to take on the challenge?” you mused, a devious glint in your eye as a grin spread across your face. You were going to absolutely obliterate him.

Killer matched your grin. “Absolutely. I’ve heard about your skills, so I figured I’d test the waters. I play a lot myself, actually.” He shrugged.

Kid spoke up. “They’re undefeated, so I’d proceed with caution.” Without looking away from you, Killer nodded. “No need. I think it’ll be fine.”

Now, who the hell did he think he was? He really had that much confidence that he thought he was going to beat you? Genuinely? You narrowed your eyes at him. You weren’t going to admit it, but his cockiness was insanely hot. Too bad you were about to humble the shit out of him. Nothing excited you more than being able to crush the dreams of the hopeful.

“Then take your place at the other side of the table.” You gestured.

He did as instructed and the game began. You started off strong, immediately sinking the first one. He tossed his ball and it bounced off one of them. “Oo, too bad. Sure it’s just a warm up, right?” you mused, grinning.

He just shrugged, sharing your grin. He didn’t seem to be worried at all in the slightest. 

You decided to give him a fair shot, purposefully missing some to keep the game going. Some of his that spun around the inside of the cup, you could’ve pulled in time but you let sink. 

“Stop doing that,” Killer said, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at you as you missed another shot.

“Doing what?” You blinked. There was no way he caught on that easily. He’d never seen you play before, so how the hell would he know?

“You know what you’re doing.” You narrowed your eyes at him, putting a hand on your hip. “If that’s the way you want to be - fine. Don’t cry when I obliterate you.” You were pissed now. Who the hell did he think he was?

It wasn’t long before you knocked out most of his cups and he’d only gotten one or two of yours. He was about to toss when he paused. “What do I get if I win?” he asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.

You blinked, looking at the table. There was no way in hell this man was winning. It’d be a miracle. “If you somehow manage to make it back and win - I’ll give you the best head you’ve ever had,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. 

“I could’ve went my whole life without hearing that,” Kid chimed from the sidelines, making a face. You just looked at him. “Sorry not sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t be in here with the grown ups then.”

“You’re only four years older than me, Bigs, so shut up.” You both were in your twenties, but it was your duty as the older sibling to always hang it above his head that you were, in fact, older.

You just snorted, rolling your eyes before you heard a ball sink into one of your cups. You blinked, looking to Killer across the table. Lucky shot. “You should be focused on me,” he said, a glint of something wild in his eyes. It made your heart race with excitement. “You want head that bad?”

“Okay, I’m out.” Kid threw his hands up, heading out of the room and you just laughed, but you didn’t take your eyes off the man across the table from you.

Killer just shrugged, the corner of his mouth curling a bit. “Maybe.” You didn’t know what he was playing, but it excited you.

Honestly, you weren’t sure how it happened, but next thing you knew, you both only had one cup left. He had been able to distract you during your throws to make you miss, pulled out your ball as it spun in the cup, and sink every single one of his ping pong balls into the cups. People had started gathering, watching as you desperately tried to save face. You had no idea what was going on. You’d never been smoked like this before.

“Were you fucking toying with me this whole time?” you said, feeling your eye twitch as you glared at the man before you. He just grinned, shrugging. “I did say that I play too.”

With that, he sank his ball into your cup. This was your last chance - redemption. If you made it into his cup, you’d be safe and the both of you would go another round. You took a deep breath, not looking at him. You knew if you did, you’d fuck up and end up missing your shot.

You went to throw but heard him make a noise, drawing your attention to him. He looked at you, winking and licking his lips right as you threw the ball. As you predicted, you fucking missed, costing you the game. The room was silent for a moment, distant conversations heard in others rooms and music thumping.

Then it erupted into cheers. “That was the greatest game I’ve ever watched!”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe they lost!”

“Finally! Someone who was able to knock them down a peg!”

“Was kind of hoping they would win. It’s weird having a different reigning champ now.”

The conversations and cheers blurred together as you just stared at the cup across from you. You couldn’t fucking believe you just lost. Three years and you’ve never lost. Not once. Ever since you started playing, you were just fucking good at it. And now that was all over.

You didn’t even process that Killer had moved from his spot until you felt someone hoist you over their shoulder. You were yanked back into reality as you were lifted into the air. “What the hell?!” You noticed that it was Killer who had tossed you over his shoulder.

“I believe someone owes me ‘the best head I’ve ever had’,” he mused as he started carrying you towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. This motherfucker had been planning this all along and you couldn’t believe you fell for it - hook, line, and sinker. Fuck.

Dammit. You just had to say that, didn’t you? You grumbled. As you were carried, various people whistled and cheered. “Yeah! Get it, newbie!”

“Gotta pay up, y/n!” 

“Taking your spoils from victory, huh?” 

You covered your face with your hands, feeling your entire body heat up with embarrassment. You couldn’t fucking believe this. And now everyone knew what was going to happen next and you couldn’t function. You just had to open your big mouth. God, you were never living this down. This was like the walk of shame only before the shag not after.

You heard him enter a room and close the door before setting you down gently. You still had your face hidden, unable to look at him.

“Y/n?” You were silent, not wanting to say anything. You were beyond embarrassed at this point. You felt his hands on yours, trying to pull your hands away. You kept them firm against your face and you heard him sigh, his breath dancing across your skin.

“Y/n, I’m not going to make you do anything. That was all for show.”

“Bullshit.” You finally removed your hands from your face, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m sure you want nothing more than to put the mouthy brat in thei-” You stopped, noticing the concerned look on his face.

You blinked, processing. Oh, he was serious. You shook your head, pulling your hands away and pushing him towards the bed.

“Nah, I keep my word. So, you best get ready for the best blow job you’ve ever had.” He stumbled, plopping onto the edge of the bed in surprise. It took him a moment to catch up before he snorted. “I mean, I’m not going to say no to a free blow job, but we’ll see if it’s the best.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was using your competitiveness against you and it was working. How the fuck did he already have you figured out? You know what? What the fuck ever. You were going to give him the time of his life and make him beg for more.

You dropped to your knees right before the bed and in between his legs. “You know just how to get under my skin,” you grumbled.

“It’s not hard.” 

You just stopped for a moment, hands on his pants. “I will absolutely rip your dick off.” He just stuck his hands up with a snort. “I fold. I’d like to keep my dick. Besides, how am I supposed to rail you otherwise?”

You blinked several times. Oh? “You think you’re gonna rail me, huh?” He just grinned and you narrowed your eyes. You didn’t know what fucking game he was playing but you were about to bite his entire dick off if he kept it up.

You made quick work of his pants, undoing the buttons and pulling him out. Your eyes widened slightly. Jesus fuck, he was huge. Possibly the biggest you’ve been with. That thing could tear you in half probably. You could feel your own body heat up, it only made you more excited.

With as hard as he was, you were sure he’s been hard for a while now. “Beer pong your version of foreplay?” you mused, pressing a kiss to the base of his cock. He let out a hiss through his teeth, leaning back on his hands. “Not really,” he ground out. If these minimal touches were enough to make him act like that, you weren’t sure he was going to last long at all.

You began to slide your hand up and down the length of his cock, earning a small groan from him. “Not really? Then what was it then?” A smug smile spread across your face as you dragged your palm over his tip before running your hand back down again. You could already see his chest heaving. He was already struggling.

“Probably something to do with the really cute hot head across from me,” he ground out. You gasped as he called you a ‘hot head’, squeezing the base of his cock, causing him to growl slightly as he tilted his head back. Oh, you liked that noise.

“A hot head, huh?” Was he wrong? No, but you weren’t about to let him just call you that. You let go of him, standing up. “I believe I told you to stop playing these games, Killer,” you mused, turning and acting like you were about to leave when you felt him grab your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

You gasped, feeling your face set ablaze. His lips pressed against your neck as your back pressed against his chest. You went to pull away but his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you in close. “Don’t be like that,” he cooed against you. You felt a shiver down your spine, your heart about to jump out of his chest. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” You had a small feeling he knew exactly what game you were playing, but he was going along with it. Probably seeing if you’d stick to your bit.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep yourself in check and trying to keep your attitude the same. You cleared your throat. “F-Fine.” You were trying hard to keep yourself together and not fling yourself at him.

“I’ll let it slide. This is your last chance.” You were fighting to keep your breathing even as you felt him smile against your skin. God fucking dammit. He was impossible.

You pulled away from him again and he let you go this time as you dropped between his knees once more. Your face felt like it was on fire as you suddenly wondered if you reacted exactly how he had planned. Was he some evil mastermind? No, it wasn’t that.

Jesus fuck could your mind just shut up. It wasn’t that deep.

You took his cock in your hand once more, feeling it twitch with excitement. You looked up as he licked his lips, watching you. Again, your face felt like it was on fire under his intense stare but you shrugged it off, pressing your lips to the tip. You felt his body shift as he leaned back on his hands once more, slowly melting as you began to run your tongue down the side of his shaft.

One of his hands found its way into your hair, tugging at it slightly as you began to slide the entirety of his cock into your mouth. The deeper you took him - the harder he pulled, making you moan around him. The sudden vibration caused him to buck his hips, shoving himself down your throat rather suddenly. 

Luckily for you, you didn’t really have a gag reflex, so you mostly just widened your eyes in surprise as you suddenly felt your throat stretch and your nose press against him. Fuck, you could probably reach your own climax just from giving him a blow job at this rate.

You slowly pulled off of him, making him groan lowly. You quickly found a rhythm and pace, beginning to bob your head and work his cock like the pro you were. This wasn’t your first rodeo sucking dick, but it surely was the biggest.

You just prayed you didn’t end up with lockjaw due to his size. That would be a nightmare; not to mention you’d die of embarrassment.

It wasn’t long before you felt Killer begin to roll his hips, pressing him further down your throat each time. “Fuck,” he breathed, panting heavily at this point. Honestly, he was lasting longer than you thought he would. You thought he would’ve finished the first time you shoved him down your throat, but he was still going.

With how much he was twitching and throbbing, you knew he didn’t have much longer anymore.

The hand in your hair suddenly grabbed you a bit rougher, keeping you in place slightly. Your eyes widened as you knew exactly what he was going to do next, so you relaxed your jaw and gripped his thighs as you braced yourself. His hips started thrusting much rougher now as he fucked the shit out of your throat. 

You definitely were gonna feel that in the morning. Not that you cared because honestly, this was the best time you’ve had in a while. Shit, you might have to keep him around.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your own body heating up more and more. A coil was forming in your stomach, tightening with each thrust as you held onto his hips for dear life. Were you really going to finish just from this?

Part of you hoped that he wouldn’t be tapped out after this so you could keep going.

The man’s hips suddenly stopped as he shoved himself deep down your throat, releasing fully inside of you. It was enough to send you over the edge, moaning against him as you came yourself, making a mess of the pants you were wearing. Fuck.

Killer slowly pulled out of you, you carefully making sure you swallowed every bit of semen that he gave you as he did so. Once he was pulled out, you gasped for air. Both of you were panting; your head spinning rapidly, your body buzzing. Fuck, you hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

You felt him pull you up, kissing you hard and sloppy. Instantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back, and moaned into him. 

After a few minutes of a hard make out session, he pulled away from you. Both of you were still panting, but a little less so than before. “You still have it in you to keep going?”

You looked at him with surprise, but excitement. You had hoped he’d have enough juice to keep going. “Mm, maybe. How’d I do? Best you’ve ever had?”

“Gonna have to start calling you Sloppenheimer with how bomb that head was.”

You stopped, looking at him with an unreadable expression. Then you stood up, throwing your hands up. “Okay, I’m out.” Just as your brother had done earlier.

Killer laughed. “Wait, no!” 

“No! Absolutely not! I can’t believe you said that!” You felt as he grabbed you around the waist pulling you back into bed. “That’s the dorkiest and dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” you shrieked as he pinned you beneath him. You pouted up at him.

“You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry. Should’ve saved that line for later.” He grinned, looking down at you. “You actually should never had said it because that was so lame.”

He just smiled at you. “You win. That was the best head I’ve ever had. Gonna have to keep you around,” he mused. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, shut up and just fuck me already.” 

Killer just grinned, kissing you hard. You knew you were going to be in for a long night. And he was right, you were probably gonna have to keep him around.

[stoneybun]

JSchlatt x vet assistant reader (pt. 1 / ?) A/N: Reeeeally self indulgent on this one, chat... also fem reader :3 The tasks never seemed to end working in a clinic as small as yours. You practically were at the head, you and the registered tech somehow keeping the pace fairly well despite the large chunk of appointments you just had to work through. Right now you finally had a moment to sit at the front desk, huffing a sigh as you started typing away on the black keyboard in front of you, trying to put in a visit record before your last appointment of the day would arrive. It was a new client, which honestly had your anxiety up. Please, don't let it be another one who would scream at you over the prices, or get mad that you don't know all the answers... you were still in school after all. Which, some clients seemed to be interested in the fact of that whenever you'd handle their pets, also seeming to have a natural way with them. Just as you were about to start the next line on the computer, the front door tugs open and the familiar digitized bell-sound rings. Naturally, you lift your head to see who walked in. "Hello!" you chime without having even seen the person yet, it becoming a habit, the practiced friendly tone coming out of your mouth with ease. You blink for a moment. This guy was kinda.... No. Stop it. You're at work, dumbass. "D'you have an appointment?" you ask, your tone a little lighter than before as your eyes dart to the carrier in his left hand, seeing a brief glimpse of orange fur behind the closed door. He practically towered over the desk, especially as you were still sat in your swivel chair, fidgeting with the pen in your hand out of habit. "Yeah, this lil' bastard is Jambo," he spoke matter-of-factly, gesturing to the cat in the carrier by slightly lifting it. You stifled a laugh at his word choice, watching a flicker of amusement pass through his dark eyes. "Ah, alright, well," you look back up at him briefly before your eyes darted down to the desk in front of you, standing up and grabbing the paperwork. "I'm gonna get y'guys in a room and started on some papers," you explained while standing, the chair wheeling back slightly from your movement. Good lord, even when you weren't sitting down the guy felt like a looming presence over you. Either way, you snapped the thoughts from your head for the moment and led him down the small hall into an exam room. "Go ahead and put his carrier on the table for me, if you don't mind," you request in a casual tone, always talking that way with clients. He seemed to appreciate it. "Yeah, sure," he accepts with a small shrug, figuring it made enough sense. He easily lifted the carrier to rest it on the small exam table while you were separating a few papers, clipping some onto a clipboard and placing a pen on top before sliding it over to him. "D'you think he'll be fine if I take him out? I know some kits prefer bein' left alone," you try to joke, which he seems to appreciate, a small lopsided smile forming on his face. "He's a lil' bit of an attention whore, but other than that, yeah," he easily bounces off of your energy, making you let out a small giggle, shaking your head before moving your hand to unlock the front door of the carrier. Before you know it, the orange fur ball comes out onto the table, curious eyes moving about the room. "Hey bud," you greet the cat in a soft tone, the only other sound in the room being the man filling out the information on the sheets. At least he seemed to be actually reading through things and paying attention unlike a lot of your usuals... Either way, you pry your attention back to Jambo as you place the baby scale onto the counter and turn it on since you still needed to weigh the guy. Using your hands, you tap the plastic of the scale to entice him to walk over, Jambo seeming intrigued and doing exactly what you want him to. "Oh good boy," you murmur in a warm tone, scratching the top of his head gently as you wait for the numbers to settle.

Schlatt's reaction goes completely unnoticed by you, but he slightly shifts in his seat as he finishes up the page he was on, now being done with the paperwork you had handed him. The clipboard rattled a little as he set it down in his lap, crossing his arms and a soft sniffle came from him as he tried to clear his head. Meanwhile, you wrote down the weight before nudging him so he'd get off the scale, only for him to nudge his head into your arm and start purring. A soft and amused huff pulled your gaze away from him, instead looking at Schlatt. "What?" you raise a brow with a lopsided smile, curious what he reacted like that for. Schlatt shakes his head, a brief snicker leaving him. "Oh nothin', just watching my cat suddenly becoming obsessed with you," he quips. "Don't cats normally use you guys like scratchin' posts?" "Pretty much, but he's bein' probably the best I've seen," You coo to Jambo who was too busy purring and melting from the amazing scratches you were giving him. Schlatt hums in response to this, his eyes briefly flickering to Jambo before analyzing you again. He was about to say something when the doctor walked in to do the exam, cutting your conversation from progressing. He listened to the doctor talking to him about what she'd be doing treatment-wise since he needed a couple shots, mostly keeping eye contact. He couldn't help but also occasionally glance at how you gently picked up Jambo, letting him hang from your shoulder while your arm was around his middle, scratching the side of his neck with your other hand. It was nice seeing that he was going to be well taken care of, at least whenever you'd be around. Yeah, that's why he kept looking... Schlatt was mindlessly scrolling on his phone while Jambo was in your care, slumped slightly in the bench he was waiting in. He lifts his head once he hears the door handle press down, watching as you had Jambo cradled like a baby before letting him down in front of the carrier that was still open. He meows and tries to come back into your arms, making you snicker. "I know," you murmur, you and Schlatt both letting out a brief laugh as he bats at the door once you managed to get him inside. "You tryin' to steal my cat or somethin'?" he quips, a lopsided grin on his face as he got up from his spot, adjusting the Yankees hat on his head. You caught a brief glimpse of his hair beneath it, seeing maybe a loose curl, but you didn't get that great of a look. A smile forms on your face as you shake your head, not really being used to easily going back and forth with a client like this. Most of the people who came in your clinic were older. Or if they were around your age, you never really entertained the thought of being friendly beyond your baseline. "Doesn't seem like he'd complain," you bite back, watching his grin widen as he lets out a brief laugh. "Nah he's spoiled rotten. I don't think he could live without his auto-feeder or the fancy toys he's got," he teases while looking at Jambo through the door of his carrier before picking it up by the handle. Your coworker had already done the bill with him, so you were able to just lead him out the exam room door to the sliding glass one across the hall. You grab the handle and pull so it'd open, looking up at Schlatt as he glanced back down to the carrier in his hand, Jambo pawing at the door again. "Fuckin' ridiculous," he laughs, your own laughter joining his and shaking your head. "You sure you didn't give him somethin' to like you so much? He's never been like this at other vets," his gaze meets yours as you shrug. "Guess I got lucky," you grin, a flutter of anxiety going through you for whatever reason. You had bantered so easily before, but now suddenly hyper-aware of his gaze. Schlatt hums, taking note of that, not wanting to make it worse and taking it as a sign to go. "If that's how ya wanna put it," he grins, trying to offer some sort of comfort, only making your heart stutter as he leaves.

Well, now you had to close up while trying to wrangle the thoughts in your head, a brief and knowing giggle behind you from your coworker. "Shut up."

[ravennaortiz]

Summary: A trip to the mall with his twin girls has him self reflecting. As always my stories are 18+.

"Alright ladies lets get in and out" stated Opie to the little girls on either side of him as they entered the mall. He was thankful it was towards closing due to lack of crowds but also worried if he would have enough time to find a mothers day gift. Especially with the crankier the girls were getting by the second. Why had he thought it was a good idea to skip nap time? He thought to himself as they moved farther into the mall. Also why did I make such an ass of myself by refusing the stroller? Opie chuckled to himself when the answer popped in his head in your voice. Cause you are an ass duh. An inconsiderate one at that.

Without thinking he led his now whining girls into your favorite trinket store. He hated it. Never got what was so interesting to you about collecting fragile little things that just collected dust on shelves. Opie snorted to himself at that. You were a meticulous cleaner so they never collected dust. You were on top of the house shit, the kid stuff and even kept an active social life. Looking around as he absentmindedly soothed the girls he thought about how much he took you for granted. Now he was stuck with a pregnant Ima.

All you had wanted was to be respected and be loved. Treated like a human. All you did for him and he still couldn't keep his dick out of random women. You had stayed in Charming for him, gotten used to the club, had his kids even though you hadn't wanted to be a mother. He frowned as he thought about how he had talked you into it, getting you pregnant was a desperate attempt on his part to keep you here. What had it gotten him? His little girls being raised by another man and the woman he loved being worshipped like the goddess she was.

"Can I help you find something?" inquired the store clerk who had appeared beside him making him jump. Opie chuckled slightly. "I don't know. Got anything that says sorry I'm an idiot, couldn't be the man or father you needed me to be, who forgot mothers day for the third year in a row and that also says I don't blame you for finding someone better?" inquired Opie making the clerks eyes widen. "I'm not sure one gift is going to say all that" she replied giving him a sad smile.

Before Opie could reply his little girls were screaming Daddy and running off to the front of the store. "Girls" called Opie as he turned to follow before his eyes caught site of what they were seeing. "Great" muttered Opie as his eyes caught sight of the man who he considered Public enemy number one. "This is my time with them Manny" stated Opie firmly as he got closer.

"You're time ended almost three hours ago" replied Manny as he slowly blinked at Opie as he ushered the girls off towards EZ who he had brought with him. Opie clenched his jaw as his fists balled up. He was right you had told him they needed to be back at a certain time and like usual he had disregarded you. Jax had rubbed off on him in more ways than one he guessed. "If you can't respect her after all this time then I suggest you respect me. If you can't coparent with her and be the dad those girls need then you need to get out of their lives. You also need to stop trying to win her back. She is mine until she doesn't want to be of course.

Opie let out a breath as he nodded. He couldn't disagree with what Manny was saying. You three deserved better than what he was offering. Maybe he did need to step away for a bit. "Tell her I'm sorry" stated Opie as he turned and made his way out of the store.

3 years later

"You did good for the party" stated Manny as he sat next to Opie as they watched the girls in the bounce house castle. "Thanks. I appreciate you talking her into letting me have the party in Charming." replied Opie. "Giving me another chance at helping raise my little girls. Means a lot". Manny nodded as a hint of a smirk flashed across his face. "Of course. By the way they are staying with you for three weeks while we are in Cancun starting tomorrow" he added with a chuckle. "Should have known you had ulterior motives" laughed Opie as he sipped his beer.

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[nickeverdeen]

Breaking Lesbians | Ava Silva x fem!reader

Pairings: Ava x reader (one sided crush), Beatrice x reader (sisters)

Type of fic: Comedy

Warnings: None

Summary: Ava is completely unaware of what you are going through when she adjusts to the heat of the room (nothing sexual you freaks) and let’s just say she might have broken you

——————————

It was one of those oppressive summer days where the heat seemed to seep into every corner of the world. You, Ava, Beatrice, and Mary were tasked with organizing an old library archive. Of course, the task wasn’t thrilling, but it was necessary, and the space offered at least a little reprieve from the relentless sun.

You’d warned Ava before leaving the house. “It’s going to be scorching today, Ava. Maybe skip the jacket?”

But Ava, being Ava, had waved you off. “I’ll be fine! Jackets are my thing. It’s like… my superhero look.”

Now, as the hours dragged on, even Ava couldn’t ignore the heat. She let out an exaggerated groan, unzipping her jacket and shrugging it off.

“Finally,” Mary muttered, rolling her eyes.

Ava tossed the jacket over the back of a chair, revealing that she’d decided to wear a sleeveless shirt underneath. It wasn’t particularly flashy, just a simple tank top, but it was the first time you’d ever seen her arms so… uncovered. And there they were: Ava Silva’s surprisingly toned, muscular arms.

You blinked. Then blinked again.

When did that happen?

The way her muscles flexed when she bent down to grab a box, or how the light glinted off her skin, made it hard for you to focus on anything else. You felt your face heat up, your brain going into immediate panic mode.

“You okay, Y/N?” Ava asked, glancing at you as she hefted a stack of books.

“Huh? Yeah! Totally!” you squeaked, quickly looking away before she could notice the way your cheeks were practically on fire. You cleared your throat. “I, uh… I need to step outside. Get some air. Yeah. Air. Be right back!”

You bolted out of the room, leaving Ava staring after you with a confused expression.

The door had barely shut behind you when Beatrice sighed, setting down the book she was cataloging. “You broke her, Ava.”

Ava blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Beatrice said, her tone somewhere between exasperation and amused. “You broke my sister.”

Mary, who had been leaning against the table watching the exchange, raised an eyebrow at Ava. “To be fair, I didn’t know you were hiding those either,” she said, motioning toward Ava’s arms.

Ava glanced down at herself, confused. “What? My arms?”

“Yes, your arms,” Mary deadpanned. “Who knew you were walking around with biceps like that? I thought you were all about dodging and flipping, not…” She mimed lifting weights.

“I mean, I do a lot of flipping and dodging,” Ava said, flexing experimentally. “And punching demons is a workout…” She trailed off, realizing both Beatrice and Mary were giving her knowing looks.

“What?”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “She stared at you like you’d just descended from the heavens. Blushing, stammering—she was flustered, Ava.”

Ava’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Mary chimed in. “Pretty sure she saw those arms and her brain short-circuited.”

For a moment, Ava just stood there, processing. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. “Wait. Are you telling me… I made her blush?”

Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ava, please don’t make this worse.”

Ava ignored her, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is amazing. I mean, I do work out a lot, but I didn’t think she’d—”

“She’s going to come back in here, and if you say anything, you’ll regret it,” Beatrice warned, her tone icy enough to make Ava pause.

“Fine,” Ava said, raising her hands in surrender, though her grin didn’t falter.

When you finally returned, you avoided Ava’s gaze like your life depended on it. Your face was still a little pink, and your steps were hesitant as you crossed the room.

“Hey, you okay?” Ava asked, her tone casual but her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Yep! All good!” you said quickly, sitting down and pretending to be very engrossed in sorting through a pile of old papers.

Beatrice shot Ava a warning look, and Ava barely managed to suppress a laugh. Still, she couldn’t resist leaning over as she passed you, flexing her arm just slightly as she reached for a book.

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, and the blush that spread across your face was instant.

You were screwed.

[definitely-not-a-mew]

Heyo y'all! SO I made a decision to do a lot of writing alongside art, as the way I started with this kinda,, was very draining for me!! SO without further ado, the part got a little long so under the cut it goes!

The howling of the blizzard slowly fades away as the ragtag trio make their way into the cave. The light from the outside gets dimmer and dimmer, leaving them in the damp, chilly darkness. "So... whats our game plan here?" All eyes turned to the two glowing white pinpricks in the darkness. They flitted out of existence and reappeared as Egg blinked. "Can you not do that? It's.. creepy." The Mew shuffled in the darkness, cuddled up in the dirty labcoat they ended up stealing from Cole. "Do what?" it yawned blearily, flicking it's tail, not that anyone could see it. "Your eyes- they're just. Glowing. It's freaky." The two went back and forth about creepy caves, being tired, and glowing eyes for a bit, right up until they bumped directly into an obstacle. A.. strangely warm and fuzzy obstacle. "Is.. this some kind of cave moss?" The fuzzy wall began to shift, and tiny sparks of flame lit up the darkness. Several balls of flame appeared in the air, floating around the area and illuminating the cave. It became Very apparent the three had run into a pack of Arcanine, who were not happy to have been woken up. Egg, Cole, and Cheese all began to back up slowly, staring wide eyed at the large dog Pokemon. "We should probably go-" Several barks echoed through the cave, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, surrounding the three in a cacophony of noise and flame. Within seconds the pack had them surrounded, growling and nipping at them when they moved even slightly. "I don't suppose they'll let us go?" "Does the growling suggest they will??? Or perhaps is it the jaws snapping that screams 'mercy' to you?" Cheese shot a glare at the purple Mew. "They're Pokemon right? You're a Pokemon too, just. Talk with them or something." "Yeah okay, like they'll listen to me-" All at once, the growling stopped, leaving only the sound of crackling pyre. The circle around them parted as a very large Arcanine with several scars on it's face stepped towards them. "Why are you here." she growled menacingly, showing off her numerous fiery teeth. She seemed ready to rip them to shreds at a seconds notice.

The three could only stare as the huge dog impatiently waited for an answer. After what felt like forever, Cole finally spoke. "Ah- I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you or your family, we were lost and caught in a blizzard. We didn't know anyone was in here- we just escaped from somewhere and needed a place to stay." The scarred Pokemon paused for a moment, thinking this over. "How odd. You aren't here to hunt us then?" she pondered aloud. Cole vigorously shook their head in response.

The blaze in her mouth puttered out swiftly as she approached, deeply sniffing the human. "You smell of chemicals and.. like an old friend. You lack the necessary tools to capture us. What a strange creature. I believe your story." The fires in the air dimmed down to a cozy glow as the ring of Arcanine relaxed around them, and calmly dispersed. Growlithe could be seen a few paces deeper into the cave, huddled into a puppy pile. "You may stay here until the blizzard calms down. If you truly are lost, then I know a dear friend who may be able to help. If you are lying, I'm sure you know the consequences." She punctuated her declaration with the snapping of her teeth. The regal leader stepped back and padded over to her pack, turning around a few times before laying down once more. "That was... terrifying." said Egg, who was quivering and balled up as far as they could go into the labcoat. "How did you know what to say? I thought we were dead meat when you started talking." Cheese hissed out, still scrambling for their breath. "I... don't know, I think she just wanted to make sure we weren't a threat I guess? In any case she said we could stay until its safer outside... so I guess it all worked out." Cheese stared at Cole like they had grown a second head. "Okay.. I'm not going to ask how you know that. As long as we aren't dog food or freezing." Cole scooted over and picked up Egg, pulling both of the Pokemon towards the heap of sleepy fur. They propped themself up against a wall close the pack of Pokemon, holding Egg close to their chest. Cheese decided to curl up right next to them, shutting their eyes and slowing their breathing. Eventually Cole drifted off into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the warmth of the cave and the soft, rhythmic breathing the Pokemon nearby.