#anyway I’ll shut up now whoops

[arithechair]

He has absolutely no clue

[ghostgirl-22]

im imagining one of the many times patrick is begging to fuck art he suddenly says something like “just let me put the tip in at least baby” and art isn’t in the right mind to see why he shouldn’t cause theyre grinding against each other and licking into each other’s mouths so it shouldn’t be much different. patrick cums so quickly too

Whoops anon this is gonna be a 2 for 1. I hope you don’t mind <3 But Patrick begging made me think it’s perfect for the holiday challenge too so… here’s Art staying over a few nights during winter break. Post Patrick dragging him to his dad’s office Christmas party where him and his brother dressed up like Santa (for some Christmas themed reason) sorry this is all over the place anon. <3

Deck the halls 🎄💫

Day 15: Begging

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

Pair: Artrick

—-

“I think you’re so pretty,” Patrick whispers, he’s still wearing the santa hat, and coat, drunk on spiked egg nog. His dad doesn’t even celebrate Christmas but his office sure knows how to put on a Christmas party.

“Shut up,” Art says, but he’s smiling his stupid pretty little half smile.

They stole candy canes from the Christmas tree in the lobby of his dad’s office, even though Patrick’s stupid brother said they couldn’t. And thank god, because Art’s still sucking on his. Lips stained red, cheeks all flushed— Patrick meant it when he kept telling him all night he’d make the perfect Santa’s elf. “You just blush so yummy,” He teased relentlessly, “especially after Santa fucks you.” That was when Art pushed him away.

Art’s all risky business right now, nothing on but his dress shirt, boxers and socks. His slacks are draped over the chair in the corner of Patrick’s bedroom. He’d wanted them off since he spilled a bit of egg nog on them and Patrick teased him for the way it stained.

Patrick grabs at Arts tie and he steps closer to where Patrick’s sitting on his bed, stopping between Patrick’s legs as Patrick loosens it.

“Come sit on Santa’s lap,” Patrick says, grinning.

Art rolls his eyes, but he’s so soft about it. “You’re so stupid when you drink. You know that right?”

“Come on, sit on my lap. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“The perfect backhand,” Art says.

“I’m Santa, not Jesus,” Patrick points out and Art shoves him. Patrick laughs and grabs onto his arm pulling him closer still, takes him by the waist and lifts at his dress shirt. “Come on, lemme fuck you.”

“Don’t do that— they’re right next door,” Art says, pulling the candy cane from his mouth and turning to look at the closed door like Patrick’s brother and his wife are just going to appear in his room out of thin air. When they don’t, he pops it back into his mouth. Patrick keeps touching him. He’s not concerned about how close they are, they’re really boring and Patrick is 100 percent certain they’re probably already asleep.

But he tries to ease Arts nerves anyway. “Please. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Patrick sighs, talking to Art’s pretty waist. Art’s got the perfect little belly button. Patrick presses his lips there and feels Art suck it in as he tangles his fingers into Patrick’s hair.

“What are you doing?” He giggles cause he’s ticklish and he pushes Patrick’s head away for the same reason.

“Trying to fuck you,” Patrick sighs. He gets to his feet and he’s suddenly in Art’s face. Art steps back but Patrick steps closer and pulls the candy cane out of Art’s mouth. He presses his lips there instead. Art opens up for him right away. His kisses are sweet like peppermint. And he’s licking and sucking on Patrick’s tongue as if he tastes like candy too. Patrick settles on the edge of the bed again excited at the way Art’s following him. He crawls onto Patrick’s lap so he can keep kissing. Patrick’s hard. Like cut diamonds hard, he’s been halfway there all night. He’s going insane at Art’s tendency to mindlessly grind against it. He’s imagining thrusting inside him, imagining how Art would feel, how he’d react. Art’s already so sensitive all over. Almost like his body was made for sex, Patrick just wants to test it out.

Patrick lays back on the bed resting on his elbows and he puts the candy in his own mouth watching as Art blinks himself into awareness now that he’s not kissing Patrick’s mouth anymore. Patrick can tell he still wants to grind. His hips aren’t moving fast but he’s still gently rolling them along the bulge in Patrick’s pants.

”Fucking please.” Patrick says, quietly. “All I want for Christmas is just to nut in you just once.”

“You’re so fucking…” Art licks his lips. He’s breathless. Kiss swollen. Flushed. Every time Patrick thinks he couldn’t possibly want him more, he gets prettier.

“I will fucking do anything,” Patrick begs. He says, undoing the buttons on Arts dress shirt.

“Patrick,” Art says matter of factly. “Your brother is next door.”

“And I’ll be so quiet. And if you need to you can moan into my pillow. Please. Pretty please. I wanna fill you up and watch it spill out.”

“You’re disgusting,” Art says softly, but he’s squirming.

“I know, I know I am,” Patrick grins, he bites into the candy cane, finishing it off. “But you like it.”

God the blushing. The way he can’t sit still. Patrick hopes he doesn’t lose it in his fucking pants before he even gets inside or all this begging will be for nothing.

“I um— I don’t think I can— your so— so much, Patrick, ” Art says, suddenly shy.

Patrick can’t help himself. He’s grinning like crazy. “Just tell me it’s too big. Tell me it won’t fit.”

“You’re such a freak, ‘m not sayin that,” Art says, he’s blushing something fierce. “I’m just saying…”

“Fine fuck it… what if it’s just the tip? Lemme put in the tip.”

Art sighs, a little smirk on his lips. “You’re so fucking obsessed.”

“Yeah well fucking look at you, princess. Of course I’m obsessed.” Patrick groans. He’s undone all the buttons on Arts shirt and he’s fixating on Art’s bare chest, his perky pink nipples.

Art rolls his eyes at the “princess” comment and Patrick grabs at either side of his shirt and pulls him into another kiss. It’s only moments before Art’s gasping into his mouth and Patrick’s sure if they keep this up he’s gonna come hard in his pants. He rolls them over so he can get Art on his back. And slowly, he pulls back from the kiss. Art’s following, sitting up on his elbows.

“Can I please? Just the tip, baby, pretty pretty please?” Patrick begs.

Art bites his lip and then nods. Patrick doesn’t waste any time, he tugs at Art’s boxers. Slides them off.

Art falls into a sudden fit of giggles and Patrick can’t help smiling at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s your santa hat. I just started thinking about you putting me on the naughty list if I didn’t blow you or something.”

Patrick laughs, he’d forgotten he was wearing it still. He pulls it off his head and gives it to Art. Pulls the coat off and drops it on the floor so he’s only in his t-shirt. “For the record I think you’re just the nicest boy.” Patrick says, looking over his dick. It’s so pretty, flushed purple and so full it’s resting heavy on his tummy. “So so nice.”

“You’re so fucking horny, shut up,” Art whispers and Patrick laughs and undoes his own pants kicking them off. Art’s just watching him. “If you put in more than the tip I’m gonna scream and wake up your brother.” He says quietly as Patrick eases himself out of his boxers. It’s clear he’s getting nervous but the way he says it makes Patrick snicker.

“I’m sure you will.” He says smirking as he rubs his palm over Art’s upper thigh. “I have lube in there, it tastes like cotton candy.” Patrick says, gently. Gesturing to his night stand.

“You fucked someone else in here?” Art asks, curiously.

“My summer time girlfriend. But I bought it for you cause your so fucking special.”

“Cotton candy?” Art makes a face.

“Shut the fuck up and get it.”

Art rolls over and pulls open the drawer, digging around. Patrick’s fixating on his ass. He rubs it gently. Almost climbs on top of him and pushes the head in right then and there. There’s so many things he wants to do to this ass. He’s seen Art’s bare bottom quite a few times when they were in school together, Art coming out of the shower. Patrick acting like he’s fine and then sneaking into the bathroom afterwards to touch himself.

“You have a lot of weed,” Art says as he pulls out a bottle from his night stand and inspects it. Same little unimpressed look on his face.

“Taste it,” Patrick says.

“Ew,” Art says.

“Fine give it,” Patrick says and snatches it away from him. He pulls one of Art’s legs up onto his shoulder to get him closer and Art does the same with his other leg. He’s just got on socks and the open dress shirt. Patrick wants him so bad. He wants him so fucking bad. Wants to be balls fucking deep in him for hours. At least an hour. Just wants to fuck him like crazy till he’s falling apart on his dick.

He coats himself in lube. Art’s holding his breath, there’s a wet spot on his tummy from where his dick is leaking. Patrick lines himself up and Art’s inhaling as Patrick presses up against his hole.

Fuck. He’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to fucking do this. Art’s so feverishly warm and virgin tight. Patrick’s struggling just to get the head in.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. “Oh fuck, you’ve never even put your fingers in here, have you? Holy shit.”

“W-why would I d-do that?” Art whines, pitched too high and too soft. Squirming beneath him. Patrick shivers.

“Fuck me, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” Patrick says breathlessly as he slowly, so achingly slowly, feels Art’s body open up around the head of his dick.

Art is making these little whiny noises, each sound going straight to Patrick’s dick. He can’t sit still, he’s wiggling like crazy and it’s barely… fucking… in.

“Holy shit,” Patrick gasps, he’s throbbing, aching. He strokes himself twice and he’s halfway fucking done.

“Oh my… fuck… oh Patrick it feels so….mm weird,” Art whines. And it’s too fucking much. Patrick pushes just a little more in… thinks he might just start fucking him… but it’s pointeless because just that little bit of movement combined with Art’s whining and wiggling and Patrick is suddenly gasping through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

“Fuck,” Patrick gasps breathlessly as he slips out, all his spend leaking out just after. “Goddamnit,” he groans. He’s literally never come that fucking fast in his life.

”Mm,” Art giggles. “I kinda like the tip.”

“Fuck,” Patrick sighs again, running his fingers tips along Arts legs. “You did that to me. You make me fucking insane.”

”I didn’t do anything,” Art says, grinning. “And you didn’t either.” He adds. He’s such a fucking brat.

Patrick adjusts Art’s legs so they’re on either side of Patrick’s waist and he leans over, buries his head against Art’s neck and shoulder, placing little kisses there. All while grabbing onto his dick. Art starts moaning right away as Patrick jerks him. He lasts longer than Patrick but not that much more before Patrick feels the wet hot spurt of liquid spilling between their bodies.

Patrick collapses on top of him when Arts finished. Feels him trying to catch his breath. He curls his fingers into Patrick’s hair and Patrick kisses at his throat, finishing a hickey he’d started.

“Next time I’m just gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes against his throat.

Art snorts, “And who knows? Maybe you’ll last longer than 30 seconds.”

“So then you agree? I get to fuck you next time,” Patrick says, grinning up at him.

Art rolls his eyes, but there’s hope— because he’s smiling too.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Could you possibly do a fic with Agatha x Reader where the coven plays Seven minutes in heaven game and Agatha has Reader's turn and Agatha is very happy?

Back in the Closet !NSFW!

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: AU where the coven is not hundreds of years old witches, everyone is drunk, seven minutes in heaven, light smut, drunk sex, sort of semi public-ish sex???? idk reader and agatha have sex in a closet

A/N: I was high when I wrote this but I was way too excited to wait to sober up and I usually have my best writing ideas when in this condition anyways. Hope you like it anon!

It was your third annual Christmas-and-Yule get together with the coven, and this time, with Billy being out of town for college, things were a bit wilder than before. This one had more alcohol than the previous one–spiked eggnog, four bottles of wine (two red, two white), and hard liquor on the cocktail cart in the dining room.

At the kitchen island, talking with the other coven members, you held your fourth vodka cranberry-apple, “Has anyone talked to Billy?” “I only talk to him when he talks first,” Agatha shrugged. “Usually it’s him sending me stupid Instagram posts or sending me a TikTok and saying, ‘This you?’.” She ended with a poor impression of Billy, taking a sip of her eggnog when the other women laughed.

Alice, who sat beside you, answered, “He’s doing okay–a bit stressed out over finals, but he says his grades are good.”

Now, after the sun had set and the coven moved to the living room (and everyone was more than tipsy), things began to escalate. 

In the middle of a nice game of Never Have I Ever, you had only three fingers down–the least of them all, with Agatha having the most down at nine.

“Okay, okay!” Alice called through the laughing and commenting on the last round. “Never have I ever…played Seven Minutes in Heaven…”

Everyone put a finger down–everyone, but you. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment and you almost wished you had lied instead. It was embarrassing enough to be almost half their age, but them knowing you were so inexperienced in life was even worse.

“You’ve never played? I played it all the time at parties in high school.” Jen gaped. 

“Parties?” Lilia scoffed, her body swaying from the alcohol and seven fingers still up from Never Have I Ever. “In my group we’d do it at regular hangouts. Come full circle, I suppose. I should’ve predicted it with this coven.”

You shrank into yourself and sighed, “No, I’ve never played…I was sort of…a loner in high school, so…”

Lilia, Jen, Alice, and Agatha looked at you in awe before breaking into giggles and gasps.

“Switching games!” Jen hollered, smiling widely as the rest cheered.

You couldn’t help but look at Agatha when this happened. In the beginning, you thought the crush was innocent–the emotions were high on the Road and you blamed it on that. But that was almost three years ago and it still hadn’t stopped.

Now you were in Agatha’s living room watching her as she laughed with the other women, and your heart ached.

“I’ll go first,” Jen said, taking an empty wine bottle and placing it on the floor.  “Basically, you spin a bottle and whoever it lands on is your partner for that round. You go into a closet, and set a timer for seven minutes. Then, as long as you both consent, you can do whatever you’d like.”

The seven minutes during Jen’s turn felt like it was dragging on forever–until it was your turn. 

“Alright,” Jen smiled, looking directly at you. “It's your turn.”

You leaned forward and spinned the bottle. “Okay…uhhh…” You watched it carefully and when the bottle stopped spinning, your heart nearly leaped from your chest. 

It landed on Agatha–and she looked beyond thrilled.

With cheers whoops of encouragement from the rest of the coven, you followed Agatha to the closet trying not to feel embarrassed. 

“Oh, no,” you sighed. “Back in the closet, I go.”

Agatha chuckled and pushed you through the doorway, “Oh, shut up and get in.”

The voices of Jen, Alice, and Lilia finally subsided when the door to the closet shut. 

It was quiet–so quiet you could hear your heartbeat.

“You’re trembling,” Agatha whispered, her hands running along your forearms. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No!” you said quickly. “No, I want to, I just–I’m nervous is all.”

Agatha smirked and leaned in closer, “Nervous? How so?” Her face was just inches from yours and it was only coming closer. Her hands moved to your waist and you struggled to answer as her lips hovered over yours. “Is there anything you want to tell me before we take this further?”

You could feel your underwear practically soak itself. You looked at her lips and back into her eyes, “I–Umm–” At the sight of her starting to giggle, you started to as well. “I…kind of have…a little crush on you…?”

“There it is,” Agatha said. “It’s painfully obvious.” Blood rushed to your face and you felt yourself become warm again. You always thought you hid it well, but clearly, no one could outsmart Agatha.

You were about to open your mouth to respond but had no chance to when her lips locked with yours. She pulled away, just enough so that her lips brushed against yours, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this…How badly I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.”

Agatha’s lips were back on yours and she pressed you against the wall of the closet. “We have five minutes left–”

“Then show me how badly you want me, Agatha,” you breathed, the alcohol getting to your head and bringing out your confidence.

And that’s exactly what she did. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants and ran through your slick, fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“Is this okay?” she muttered.

You were completely engrossed in the pleasure. The mix of the alcohol and the feeling of requited love from Agatha made it hard to form a complete thought.

Her fingers lightly took your chin, tipping it so that she could look in your eyes. “We have three and a half minutes. Answer me.”

“Yes,” you huffed. “Yes, don’t stop! Oh my god, please don’t stop.”

She smiled and kissed you softly, “That’s a good girl.”

Your arm hooked around her shoulder and you brought her in for another passionate kiss, muttering incoherent words into her mouth. The pleasure was building and building, and wouldn’t stop. The darkness of the coat closet added another layer of eroticism that you hadn’t even thought about before.

“Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop, Agatha, please,” you begged. “I’m g–”

“Alright, you two!” Jen shouted from the living room. “Time’s up!”

You groaned and Agatha giggled after she took her hand out of your pants. She placed a small kiss on your cheek and opened the door.

“Don’t worry. If you decide to stay over tonight, I promise there’s more where that came from,” she muttered, winking as she pulled you out of the closet by your arm and pushed it closed with a bump of her hip.

[dadvans]

heavy loads

2.6k of self-indulgent lactation!kink bucktommy for @rcmclachlan based on baby probie-verse, where bucktommy have a whoops baby

It wasn’t a shock to find Evan, up from his nap, in the laundry room when Tommy got home from running errands. Tommy went to go peek in on Nora—still Probie to the 118 and Miss Nora to Evan’s parents and sister, a toss up between those and Mashed Potato or Babygirl between Evan and Tommy, or Miss Piggy when she was feeding and Evan thought he was out of earshot—who was conked out in her crib. He silently snuck back from her crib to return to Evan in the laundry room and ask if he needed any help.

Four weeks and some change since bringing Nora into the world, and it was laundry out of everything that had become the main Sisyphean task to own their lives. They’d given up on cloth diapers almost immediately, but between spit-ups and changes and their basic day-to-day, it felt like there was constant, never-ceasing mountain of laundry. And Evan kept leaking.

He’d always had well-defined pecs before getting pregnant, but now he had full on tits. Just perfect handfuls, in Tommy’s opinion, but after the first few weeks the only time he wasn’t complaining about them was when he was feeding Nora.

When he was feeding Nora, all frustration or anxiety melted away into dopey bliss. Evan loved that his body was producing something good for someone else, sustaining life. “S’what I was made for,” he would say, blinking sleepily down at Nora who made sweet, little noises as she tried to suck him dry. It was a welcome difference from the weeks leading up to her arrival, when he’d been so nervous, voice shaky as he worried out loud about faulty parts, that his body wouldn’t make enough or that she wouldn’t latch, right up until she did there in the hospital on the first try.

“Babygirl’s still snoozing,” Tommy said, stuffing a hand in Evan’s back pocket while Evan leaned down to catch some stray wet socks for the dryer. “You need any help?”

Evan made a familiar disgruntled noise at the back of his throat, which meant he didn’t want to ask, but yes. So, Tommy squeezed his ass twice through the denim in a way that meant move. Evan rolled up, tossed the socks in and slammed the dryer door a little too quickly before scooting to the side. His emotions had always run high, Tommy knew, and the hormones during pregnancy and now made him even quicker to anger. In all honesty, Tommy still had to check himself when feeling annoyed about it, but it helped now when Evan twisted to let Tommy’s hand slide out of his pocket and catch on his hip. So,

“Hey,” Tommy said instead. “Hey.”

“We need to do, uh, sheets. Again,” Evan clarified, jaw tight, waving at the still-full hamper and half-emptied washing machine. He smiled like it hurt. “Passed out for a half hour and I totally soaked through them again. And I know I could leave it, let it dry, I’m putting a towel down anyway, but we already had a full load—“

“Evan.” Tommy didn’t shut him up with a kiss, but with a gentle squeeze. He’d found out that Evan’s tendency to pass out face down and sprawled out on any surface had not been fixed, but had simply laid dormant while he was pregnant, and he was up to his old habits again, which now had consequences. “I’ll take over in here. I grabbed you some more of those prebiotic sodas you’re obsessed with, if you want one.”

Evan softened.  “Ginger lime?”

“Yeah, baby, ginger lime.” Tommy gave him another squeeze. “So, get out of here and try not to give yourself heartburn while I finish loading the rest, okay?”

He finished loading the wash, and—poor baby, he thought—the sheets really were soaked through already. Both machines going, he closed the door behind him as he left and for one blissful second got to enjoy the sight of Evan settling down on the living room couch with his soda before Nora’s crying from the next room cracked through the silence like thunder.

Evan sighed, and he instantly crossed his arms across his chest, tilting his head back for a second with his eyes closed. The soda can in his hand crinkled in his grip before his wrist went limp.

Before Tommy could offer, Evan said, “Trust me. I got this one.”

xx

Tommy started re-making their bed late evening. Evan came in after leading Nora’s nighttime ritual, slingshotting his nursing tank from the doorway into the hamper, before finding a clean one in the dresser. Instead of tight, elastic straps that he could work loose, it had thicker, ribbed tank straps and deep, henley collar that he probably knew Tommy liked seeing him in. He walked into the master bathroom half-blind trying to slip it on over his head.

“You know,” he called out only to come back a few seconds later, still straightening himself out at the hem and carrying a ragged towel that he flipped over his side of the bed, “you know I think it’s cool that my body knows how to make food for our kid.”

“It’s very cool,” Tommy agreed, no-nonsense. He threw one side of their duvet over to Evan so they could snap it over the bed and peel it back evenly on each side.

Evan flopped himself on top of his towel face up the second they were done, kicking his own feet down to get his calves under the covers. “Well, lately I’m starting to feel like it doesn’t know how to stop, and I’m going to be like this forever. A leaky mess.”

Tommy crawled into bed next to him and leaned over to press a kiss to the meat of his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your tits, baby. Anything I can do?”

His mouth grazed down the strap of Evan’s nursing tank and something deep in his gut began to uncoil as Evan’s breath hitched in response. Instinctively, he pressed another kiss lower, near the crease of his armpit, and Evan shuddered on the exhale.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

Tommy smiled against his warm skin, eyes beating closed. “Good thing we’re both firefighters, then.”

Evan laughed.

“Fuck, I’m serious!” He said, first fond and then softer, “Really. I’m serious, though. If you were. Curious, I mean. Go for it. There’s always a little something left in the tank.”

Tommy hummed. Eyes still closed, he could feel the way Evan shifted underneath him to wrap an arm around Tommy’s shoulder and get a palm at the nape of his neck, fingers tracing up through his hair. Ready to cradle him like that, hold him there, if he wanted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve already thought about it,” Evan continued. “I’ve thought about it, maybe a lot.”

“Jesus, Evan.” Tommy nipped at his shoulder again, just to tease, but found himself curling into Evan’s hold, reaching up to snap open the collar of his tank and slide his hand underneath to cup at Evan’s pec, which fit perfectly in his palm and sat soft and ready below his chin. His thumb stroked over the nipple, fatter and perkier than ever since Nora’d arrived, and Evan sank back against his body in return. “You gonna feed me?”

“Y-yeah.” Evan sounded shaky but so sure. His fingers in Tommy’s hair curled into a soft grip. “God, help me out, Tommy, please let me feed you.”

Tommy hummed. “Okay. C’mere, baby, I got you.”

It was so easy, taking Evan’s fat tit into his mouth, Evan’s grip in his hair growing tighter while the rest of him went practically boneless. Another shaky breath and then Evan made a noise, half-whimper, half moan, that went straight to Tommy’s dick.

“Need you to take it deeper. Open, open, oh—God, your mouth is so big. Stay there, like that, yeah,” Evan said, hushed, almost reverent, as Tommy adjusted his latch and started putting his tongue to work.

He licked up, chasing Evan’s nipple, trying to tease his milk out. Swallowed around him and threw an arm over Evan’s lap to keep him in place when he started to squirm, thrilled to feel the way Evan shifted as his heels started to dig into the mattress, getting hard, dick pressing up against Tommy’s forearm.

And there it was, suddenly, Evan’s milk streaming into his mouth. Creamy and sweet, like the leftover dregs of Saturday morning cereal when he was a kid, hitting his tongue in little hiccup spurts. He almost choked at the sensation and felt a little slip out the corner of his mouth, and Evan’s grip tightened at the base of his scalp again, holding him there.

Their sex life hadn’t suffered even in the past few weeks, not in the way Tommy thought back on many of his old guard colleagues at the 118 talking about—dead bedrooms, wives like cold fish ever since they popped out a kid for some reason. But between Evan’s body needing the time to heal and the recent arrival of a tiny drill sergeant who demanded to be fed, held, changed and bathed at regularly irregular frequencies, opportunities to be intimate with each other had been few and far between. Tommy wasn’t complaining, but the sheer wave of niceness he felt now—being this close and familiar with Evan felt just as good as the first hit of a dilaudid drip in the back of an ambulance, made his toes curl against their fresh sheets as he swallowed.

“Missed your mouth on me,” Evan sighed, clearly also feeling some kind of way. “Shit, that’s nice. Different, but good.”

His dick was more insistent against Tommy’s arm now, the head eagerly tenting the thin cotton of his boxers.

Tommy finally took pity on him and tugged Evan out through the slit in his boxers, lips slipping loose to murmur,  “Yes, hi, hello to you too.”

He licked his hand milk wet and returned his grip to stroke Evan and squeeze a little mean at the tip, the way that Evan loved, the way that made Evan pant and whine, before he resumed suckling. There was something meditative about Evan rocking into his hand and against his tongue, and Tommy found himself soothed by the give and take of his body, their natural rhythm together punctuated by Evan’s swallowed back noises.

“Okay?” Tommy asked, mouth full.

“Uh-huh.” Evan sighed, breath pitchy. “Starting to soak through my other side without my Haakaa.”

Tommy hummed, and licked a broad stripe up his nipple to his collarbone, biting there softly. “You want me to go get your Haakaa, baby?”

“Nah, I have a better idea,” Evan replied. He untangled himself from Tommy’s grip and carefully twisted to throw one long leg over Tommy’s thighs. “Hey, handsome.”

“Evan,” Tommy warned. They were supposed to be limiting the kind of sex they were having for at least two more weeks.

Evan worked the other side of his tank down his chest so both of his tits were exposed, rubbing at the neglected nipple. “I just want to continue what we started. Nothing else. C’mon. No funny business.”

“Maybe a little funny business,” Tommy murmured as he watched milk dribble out over Evan’s fingers. He leaned in to chase the wet line up Evan’s knuckles with his tongue and suck a hot-breathed open-mouthed kiss to Evan nipple before pulling away. Evan groaned and rocked forward, chasing him in response, which almost had Tommy laughing. “Hey, gimme a sec. I’m grabbing you some lube.”

“Me?”

Tommy, halfway stretched back reaching for the bedside table, gave an unimpressed glance down at where Evan’s hard dick still curved up through the slit in his boxers, plummy head drooling precome against the tent in Tommy’s own sleep pants. Then he went back to digging the lube out of the drawer, practiced hands making quick work with it until he was wrapping a slick palm around Evan’s dick.

“That’s right, said I was gonna take care of you.” He sidled back up against the headboard, and Evan shifted with him practiced and familiar, until Tommy’s hand was stroking him, snug and slippery between them. Licking another long, thick line up the small swell of Evan’s breast, Tommy said, “And you’ll take care of me.”

He pulled Evan back into his mouth, and something uncoiled in his gut as Evan’s milk hit the back of his tongue again. His eyes fluttered closed. Years together and Evan’s body was still finding new things to give, new ways to taste, sweet and warm like the rest of him, dripping down Tommy’s throat.

“Oh.” Evan’s voice was weak and pitchy, and he brought both hands back up to curl in Tommy’s hair and hold him there while Tommy continued to suck and let Evan fuck into his fist.

His stomach was soft against Tommy’s knuckles, recently tender enough that Tommy tried to get his free hand on Evan’s hip to control the roll of his hips, opting for a sluggish grind and tighter grip. In the past nine months and change Evan had ridden him, sure, actually ridden him, but more recently he’d had a belly full of their kid in the way, so it was always reverse cowboy, and not this level of skin on skin closeness right in his lap. Evan flush against him now was a reminder of their first several months together when they used a little more strength to push each other around and hold each other down and Tommy, mouth full, felt so hungry for it.

“Can’t wait to have you inside me again,” Evan said, like he could read Tommy’s mind.

Tommy moaned and swallowed in response, tongued at Evan’s nipple like he was begging for more. He could feel Evan’s dick throb hot, heavier now in response, the grinding rock of his hips going a little sloppy.

“Baby,” Evan said, right on cue, “I’m going to come.”

The hands in Tommy’s hair tugged back, Tommy’s mouth dragged away and up with a slick noise to be guided in for a kiss, milk slipping from the corners, passed between the two of them as Evan came, shuddering on top of him. Vaguely he felt Evan’s come seep through his tank and sleep pants, already damp with lube and sweat. He was defenseless against it as Evan kept kissing him through his orgasm, licking into him sloppy and greedy for what felt like an hour, big hands and long arms slowly sliding down to where Tommy was still achingly hard. His fingers curled into the elastic waistband to clumsily peel back what he could without moving to pull Tommy out into his own familiar grip.

“Evan,” Tommy said against his mouth, almost breathless with it.

“Let me.” Evan leaned back to spit on his own hand, equal parts too lazy and restless to grab the lube that was right there, but Tommy had been riding the edge practically from the start. He was so goddamn spoiled already.

Evan touched him like he knew, jerking him off hard and quick.

“Next time,” he continued, “next time we do this, you lay me down and I’ll let you jerk off all over my tits.”

Tommy came hard with an ugly noise, like it was ripped up his throat. His head kicked back and Evan laughed, smug, leaning in to kiss the noise down, their teeth clacking together instead. He body felt weightless, Evan’s weight on him the only thing keeping him from floating up to the ceiling.

“Jesus,” he said, eventually.

Evan hummed, settling back. He looked sleepy, and satisfied, and so pleased with himself. “Yeah? You good? Get your fill?”

“And then some,” Tommy replied, feeling half drunk. “You good?”

“Great,” Evan said, glancing between them. Both their clean shirts were soaked through in places. Tommy needed to grab a new pair of pants. “But I'll be even better if you take care of the laundry.”

[chlorinecake]

𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 - a yjw oneshot 🕹️

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a fun gaming session with your bsf leads to a night full of steamy shenanigans

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gamer!roommate!jungwon x reader

𝐜𝐰: swearing, kissing, teasing, hickeys, y/n gets her boobies fondled, oral (f. & m. receiving), mentions of other enhypen members

𝐰𝐜: 3k | not proofread, written quickly

You sighed, “I wish more people in the world cared about Roblox… it saved my life, bro.”

“That was easily one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard you say.”

“What?”

“I said-”

“EVER! Wanna play COD Mobile instead?”

“Bruh, that game is so mid.”

You scoffed at his remark, bringing a flared hand to your chest. “I’m goated at COD mobile, averaging like 100 kills per match. People praise me for that.”

“Because it doesn’t take skill?” He made it sound like a question, when he was really making a statement.

“Mkay. I bet I’d still whoop your ass on console, but we don’t have to go there.”

A hint of ambition sparkled in his eyes at the challenge. “Oh yeah? And what are we betting here?”

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment, “If you win, I’ll fix you a victory snack.”

He nodded at the enticing offer, “And if you win? Which you won’t, but-”

“The bragging rights will be enough for me, but you could always fix the broken shower head in my bathroom so I can stop using yours,” you interrupted confidently.

Jungwon forgot all about how you broke your shower head last week. You told him it was an innocent mistake, but his mind obviously wandered to other places once you told him. By now though, he had already gotten used to sharing a bathroom with you, so he didn’t feel any urgency to repair it. Still and all, he understood how you might want your private space back. “Ok. Fair enough,” Jungwon agreed.

He handed you a controller, waiting for you to join him at the loading screen. Setting up your gear and choosing what weapon you wanted, the match eventually started. Needless to say, you didn’t stand a chance against Jungwon and his team of CPU’s, feeling sore from defeat.

A prideful smile waved over his features, showcasing his prominent dimples. “Sooo,” he began, “I would like your leftover Twix bar from the fridge cut up over two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Don’t forget the sprinkles.”

You pouted, handing him the overheating controller. “I’m not fixing you a damn thing. You probably cheated!”

His eyebrows raised, “First of all, cheating is for weenies. Second of all, a deals a deal!”

“Ugh, fine. I’m charging tips, by the way.”

“Not a chance, crook. Unless,” he caught your attention as you got up from the living room couch, “you wanna go for another round?”

“No, that’s alright. I think I'm gonna just watch you play the game for now. You could invite Heeseung, too, if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back, okay? I gotta use the bathroom real quick.”

Walking into the bathroom, you closed the door behind you, taking off the bra that had been killing your back for the past 12 hours. You didn’t know where else to put it, so you hid it under Jungwon’s bathroom cabinet before leaving.

“When do you ever wanna play games with me? Are you with Riki or something?” Heeseung asked from the headset.

“No, I’m with ____. She needs some testosterone in her life and wants to watch us play I guess.”

“I can think of a few ways to help her with that,” Jungwon could hear the smirk in Heeseung’s voice.

“Shut the fuck up and join me already.”

“What? It’s not like you’ll ever have the balls to make a move on her, anyway,” Heeseung chuckled. “How long have you know her for again?”

“Since the first day of college.”

“Damn, and you’ve barely even grazed first base.”

“She’s still sacrificing her free time to hang out with me, so I don’t see the loss here?”

“Look, buddy. Your rizz needs an upgrade. These cute little gaming nights you have every weekend needs an upgrade. Your wardrobe needs an upgra-”

“I get it, asshole.”

You came back with the snack he requested, eliciting a dramatic applause from your goofy ahh friend.

“Your majesty,” you bowed playfully, placing the bowl of ice cream on the desk in front of him.

You filled in the space next to him, resting an elbow on the arm of the sofa, your nipples now on full display through your thin shirt.

“Are you cold,” Jungwon asked, eyes not quite meeting yours. You meant to reply, but he was already reaching his hand out to grope your chest, using a thumb to smooth out your hardened buds with his warm touch. You eyes widened in shock.

“Woah- mmm, n-no, I’m okay” you stuttered, Jungwon smirking at how flustered you appeared.

What the actual fuck was that!?, you thought to yourself.

He went back to casually talking with Heeseung again as if he didn’t just rub your nipples…

You usually enjoyed watching Jungwon play the game, but now, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jungwon’s pretty hands. The way his delicate thumbs maneuvered the joystick of the controller sent your mind into a daze.

“Hold up, Hee, I’m gonna put you on mute for a sec,” Jungwon said, handing you his controller before mouthing the words “play for me” with a catty smirk. He adjusted his headset over your head, bringing a finger up to your seal your lips. “Shhh,” he warned.

You knew Heeseung wasn’t actually on mute because there was an open mic symbol on the corner of the screen.

What’s he up to now?, you wondered.

Kneeling between your legs with greed, Jungwon’s fingers tiptoed to the waistband of your shorts. He paused before asking, “is this okay?," and you simply nodded in response. He smiled, tugging your shorts and underwear past your hips, knees, and ankles, stuffing them under the sofa.

He gawked at your wetness, your lips swollen with need. Heeseung started the match, and that’s when Jungwon started taking kitten nips at the sensitive flesh between your thighs, leaving a few marks. He blew at your heat before finally using his fingers to explore your folds.

“Cute,” he must’ve noticed the way your pussy pulsed in anticipation. Attaching his lips to your throbbing clit, he sucked it into his mouth, alternating with his fingers when breaking for air. He hummed at your taste, adding to the pleasurable sensations.

You tried focusing on the game for Jungwon’s sake, but you couldn’t resist the urge to reach for a handful of his hair and gently grind against his face.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby, just stay focused,” he said in between slurping at your wetness that never sounded so foul til now.

Did he just call me baby?

He inserted a finger into your tight hole and started pumping in and out of you, curling up to stimulate your g-spot. You were struggling to keep your moans in, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he finger-fucked you. He looked up, noticing that you had fully abandoned the controller. “Keep playing or I won’t let you finish,” he purred.

“Fuck,” you panted quietly, how do you expect me to do that?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, ____.”

You picked up the controller and started playing again. Heeseung was now swearing over the mic like a madman. “Bro, you’re really not helping out our stats here by letting the enemy clap your cheeks,” he scolded, but you weren’t really paying attention to his voice anyway. Jungwon dove back into your heat, licking rough stripes against your clit as he inserted a second finger. “Mngh,“ you mumbled dizzily, clenching around him.

“What?” Heeseung asked confused, having heard your noise.

You reached to mute the headset, but Jungwon gave you a look that told you not to test him. You gave in, and succeeded in holding back your whimpers, but your heavy breathing continued.

“Dude, I’m literally never playing the game with you agai- HOW THE FUCK DID I JUST GET DIED?”

One last thrust of Jungwon’s fingers, and you were finally coming undone, shaking from the intense wave of pleasure that washed over you. Slender fingers glided in and out of your needy hole, his knuckles adding to the delightful stretch. The match ended shortly after you came down from your high.

Jungwon licked his fingers clean of you and swapped the controller back. “Sorry about that, hyung. I was eating and didn’t wanna disturb you,” he lied, readjusted the headset on himself.

“Well, I hope it was worth it. Our team forfeited on some elite rewards.”

“You’re welcome,” he teased, which you didn’t know if it was meant for you or Heeseung, because he leaned in to kiss your lips softly, before going in for another match.

Still feeling your orgasm fresh in your viens, you reached under the couch to grab your shorts and underwear, putting them on and getting up from the sofa.

“Hey, what’s up,” Jungwon asked while taking a spoonful of the half-melted sundae into his mouth.

“I-I’m just gonna shower... and maybe go to bed after.”

“Alright. Me and Hee are gonna play one more match and I’ll be in after you. Don’t take long!”

"Dude, you’re abandoning me already? I thoughtyou were gonna help me take these punks to skill-ville," Heeseung whined over the mic.

"You need to immediately repent for saying that," Jungwon cringed.

You made your way to his bathroom with a change of clothes, closing the door behind you.

You entered the shower, trying to wash off the growing heat between your legs and any dirty thoughts associated with your roommate. A few minutes in, you also decided to wash your hair as it had been a week since that last time you did.

That’s when you heard the door open and close, followed by the sounds of clothes being removed and tossed on the bathroom floor. You peeked from the shower curtain, only to find a naked Jungwon standing right there. He didn’t notice you looking, so you pushed the shower curtain back.

“The shower is occupied at the moment, Wonie!”

“I know,” he smirked, entering the shower from the opposite end as if this was yet another casual ordeal.

“May I,” he asked, pointing to the spot you were standing at in the shower. “Oh, sure” you replied, trying not to make things awkward. He reached for the bottle of shampoo and started lathering the honey scented product in his hair and skin. You tried to avoid taking anymore peeks at his toned body so you busied yourself with a loofa and cleansed your skin for what felt a hundred times. By now, you sat idly in the corner of the shower, with bubbles waiting to be rinsed from your body. “Here,” Jungwon motioned for you to return to your original spot. “Thanks,” you said. “Would’ve been nice if you said that earlier,” he poked.

Oh shit.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered, rinsing off the soapy suds that painting your shoulders and back. Somehow, this gesture relaxed you. “Now turn around for me.” You faced him with a chest covered in bubbles. He quickly rinsed your breasts before lowering the shower head to your private, adjusting the water pressure from low to medium.

You could hardly stand up straight from the pressure building up at your center. The throbbing sensation between your legs travelled up to your quivering lips. You moved a hand to cover your mouth, hiding your lewd sounds. Jungwon didn’t mind though, because your squirming is what excited him the most. “Hold still, ____,” he teased, putting the water pressure on high.

Bracing your balance with his free arm, his soft lips met your damp neck, nibbling at the skin. The sensation was so sweet that you finally let your moans out. Developing a mind of its own, your hand reached down to stroke Jungwon’s hardness, a lustful look staining his features.

He groaned into your ear, making you feel more than half crazy. You felt your climax creeping up on you as it became harder to stand up or keep still. Starting to pump him faster, both of you were now on the verge of bussing.

A little voice in your head slapped you back into reality.

This has to stop! He’s my roommate!

You turned the water off from the faucet on the wall, retreating your hand from his member as if it tased you. Grabbing a towel from the curtain rod and covering yourself, you left Jungwon alone in the bathroom.

You went to your room and started to dry yourself off. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around what was happening but a part of you liked it and another part knew it was inappropriate.

You just touched Jungwon’s dick, and yes, it felt really fucking nice, but the thought will likely haunt you til the day you die. He was a good friend of yours, and you didn’t wanna let fleeting feelings ruin it.

You put on the scented lotion from your nightstand followed by your clothes before plopping in your bed. You didn’t bother locking your door because you never had you to worry about Jungwon intruding your privacy. Or at least, that was before today.

You buried yourself under the covers before a trail of footsteps made their way from the bathroom to your bedroom door.

Creak.

The door opened and closed.

Click.

He locked it.

Walking over to your bed, Jungwon sat behind you.

“I know you’re awake, so stop pretending,” he whispered in your ear.

Annoyed, you threw the covers off your head, giving him an exhausted look.

“What do you want, Jungwon? Huh?”

“I could always just show you,” he said, flashing you the sluttiest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man.

“You could’ve waited for me to finish up in the shower before barging in like that.”

“No, I really couldn’t.”

“We’re roommates, Won! Hell, we’re friends!”

“And? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You can’t just fondle my tits whenever you want to, or eat me out on the couch when you’re bored, or join me in the shower because you’re impatient.”

You let that sink in for a moment.

“Did you not like it when I did those things to you? Did you not like the way I made you feel,” he inquired, inching closer towards you on the bed. “Because the way I remember it, you never told me to stop.”

The room fell so quiet that your heartbeat sounded loud.

He reached over to grip your thigh, leaning in for a kiss before shoving his tongue past your lips, but you pulled away.

“Jungwon stop!” You reprimanded, turning your head from him.

He grabbed your chin and proceeded to kiss you.

“Jungwon, I said stop...”

“I can tell you didn’t mean it.”

He continued kissing you, shoving his hand into you panties and going straight to your pussy, sliding his digits up and down your moist folds, sending an ache through your stomach.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

He called you baby. Again!

He didn’t waste any time to rub circles around your sensitive bud, causing your hips to jerk toward him.

“Stop it!” You raised your voice, pushing him away by his throat. Your hand never looked so small til now.

“Then make me.”

“What?”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, ____.”

Darkness waved over both your features as you pressed his back flush against the bed, reaching for his drawstring and pulling his sweat pants down. He wasn’t wearing any boxers, so his pink tip sprung up, clear fluid leaking from the tip.

You grabbed his dick, giving it a firm stroke before grazing your teeth down his shaft, eliciting the prettiest whimper you’d ever heard from his mouth. The texture of his veins ran against your tongue as you took half of him into your mouth, using your hand to stimulate the base.

Your head bounced up and down as Jungwon grew dangerously desperate. Tapping your cheek, he guided you off of him to take a breath. Cradling your head in his grasp, he slid you back down until your lips reached his pelvis. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and breath through your nose,” he guided before using your head to please him. Your eyes began to water as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag a few times, but he ignored it.

“I’m so close, baby, just keep taking me,” he nearly begged, chest heaving as he screwed his eyes shut, “Be a good girl for me, mmm,” he grunted, picking up the pace.

You were getting used to being called “baby” by now.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, bursting his load into your mouth. He lifted your head from his throbbing heat, using a thumb to wipe the cum that dribbled from the corner of your mouth. You went back down to taste his release, only for him to guide your head away.

“Don’t eat that, ____,” he giggled, but you swiped a finger to collect some of his cum anyway.

“It’s only fair, Wonie. Now we’ve both tasted each other.”

You went to the bathroom to wash your hands, coming back with a few tissues to help clean him up. Something about this dirty moment seemed so pure. So right.

“Okay, I’m going to bed for real this time, see you tomorrow,” you smiled, getting under your covers.

“You don’t expect me to go back to my room, do you,” he asked, giving you a look.

“Well, tonight, I’ll let it slide, but if you end up breaking your bed, don’t expect visitation privileges.”

“Thank you,” he let out a breath, smiling as he snuggled under the covers beside you.

“Jungwon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Heeseung has any idea about what we did?”

Ding.

Jungwon’s phone vibrated in his pocket:

Text Message from “Heenis” — Jake ditched me for a hoe 👍🥲 wanna call?

A mischievous smirk poked at the corners of Jungwon’s lips, “He can find out.”

“WONIE, IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER, I SWEAR YOU’RE SLEEPING IN YOUR OWN BED TONIGHT!”

❁ if y’all can’t tell already, i am dangerously jungwon biased…

❁ anyways, thanks for reading “Joystick” by @chlorinecake! be sure to check out more works by me on my enhypen bookshelf!

[hypnagogics]

doing ellie's makeup? I FEEL LIKE THAT'D BE SO CUTE TY

IMPORTANT. READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸 AND CLICK HERE TO HELP, IT TAKES 10 SECONDS.

☆:this is adorable omg i <3 fluff. disclaimer: i know absolutely nothing about makeup lol but had fun writing thiss. also fuck ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS A LOT EARLIER THAN I MEANT TO. i wanna take this down to edit it some more, embellish it..but don't wish to lose the ask....tumblr lemme private crap when i've misclicked pls. no warnings, just fluff. except not proofread whoops.

doing ellie’s makeup.

a package had just arrived in the mail. you had previously ordered some new products, and were overjoyed about your purchases! needed to try them out, so you got an idea. she wasn't doing anything important right now….surely your artist girlfriend wouldn't mind being the canvas for a change?

“ellie, can I do your makeup??”

you sat down next to her sprawled out form on the couch, scrolling on her phone mindlessly as she shifted to the side to make space for you. she furrowed her eyebrows and didn't look up from her scrolling to murmur, “mmmmm…sure, why not.” you almost jumped for joy, she was going to look so pretty. ellie almost regretted allowing this, but seeing how happy you looked made her melt immediately. “okay wait here.” you went to gather your basket of products, so excited. she put her phone away and waited patiently for you to return. you returned and sat beside her, but that positioning wasn't allowing you to see properly. “lemme sit on you.” she continued laying down and you got on top of her to straddle her waist, laughing at her facial expressions. she wiggled her eyebrows and held onto your hips, thumbs making little circles, “i'm enjoying this.” she said, making your cheeks heat up the smallest touch. you lightly slapped her hands away, “oh shut up, i can't do this well if i'm not like, 3 inches from your face.” “alright, alright princess,” she said through a chuckle, dropping her arms by her sides. still smirking, proud of her jokes. “put this on.” you hand her a ridiculous looking headband, a pink one with a huge bow in the front, to put on to get her soft auburn hair out of her face, and she shoots you a look, but complies anyway. mischievously rubbing your hands together, you search for the base products to apply first. she watches curiously as you set up all the brushes and sponges to give her the makeover of a lifetime. you select one and show it to her, “i'll do this one, its light coverage because i don't wanna cover your freckles. i love them too much to do that.” she nods along, absorbing the information, her cheeks turning a light pink at the compliment. as you apply all the products to her face, she seems so relaxed. you’d honestly expected her to not be a fan, but it was lovely to see her closing her eyes, and just letting you paint her however you so pleased. it was a win/win situation, a sweet moment for both.

you went through most of the routine, and it was time for eye products. making sure to emphasize your point, “okay, stay veeeeery still.” she seemed so at peace, and nodded to say she heard you. you got closer to her, eyeliner pen in hand and as soon as you made contact with her delicate eyelid, her eye started twitching and she burst into giggles. “hey, that tickles.” “ellie stay still, i’ll poke your eye out, cmon, i’m almost done.” “i’m tryin baby.” steadying your drawing hand, and steadying her by holding onto her cheek, slowly but surely you do her eyeliner. it’s uneven and a little wonky because she couldn’t be as still as needed, but charming, if you do say so yourself. and the final step, you pick out your sparkliest lip gloss. as you were applying the finishing touches, she was watching your focus intently, watching your movements so intimately. “there, done.” you finish and lean away from her, inspecting your work. she almost looked like a different person, but the way you’d done it accentuated her features perfectly, and made her green eyes just pop. she looked stellar. lips plump and sparkly, cheeks wonderfully rosy, like a doll. you squealed, “you look so good!!” she batted her mascara covered eyelashes as she sat up closer to you, who’s still on her lap, and pressed a messy kiss to your lips, smearing her gloss everywhere. “ellieeee, wait i gotta fix it.” you fix her lips, holding onto her chin as you do so, and get up so she can visit a mirror to take a look. she gasped, “oh wow.” you watched as she posed and inspected her makeover in front of the mirror, fascinated. “wow, i don’t look like myself….but i kinda love it." she throws a toothy grin your way. “i’m glad, thanks for letting me els.” she kept inspecting and looking at herself, “y’know, the more i look at this the more i like it. you can practice on me more often if you want.” this made you so happy, she looks great as ever with whatever she decides to do with her appearance, and it was so much fun to do this for her.

[daisynik7]

cw: alcohol, reader is drunk, Nanami is a doting husband, kissing, suggestive dialogue, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, baby, honey, good girl), use of daddy once

Author’s Note: Whoops, I’m afraid my Nanami brainrot is not over! Anyways, I got wine drunk yesterday and I was just imagining about how cute it would be for drunk!reader to come home to husband!Nanami. Enjoy! Banner by @/saradika.

You’ve got your arm draped across your best friend’s shoulders as she helps you stumble up the driveway to your house and towards the front door. She knocks with her free hand, waiting only several seconds before your husband answers, an amused grin on his face. “Thanks for bringing her home in one piece.”

She laughs, handing you off to him. “We almost found the bottom of the bottomless mimosas,” she jokes, waving farewell to the both of you, heading back to the car with the designated driver. Nanami watches them leave while you hang onto his shoulders for dear life. 

He shuts the door behind him, carefully leading you into your home, bending down to remove your heels. You’re a wobbling mess, head hazy and body buzzing with intoxication from today’s brunch. One of infinite things you love about Nanami is how patient he is with you, even when you’re a useless lump, too uncoordinated to do the simplest things like this. 

Now barefoot, you lean against him, using his entire body as support. He remains silent, a calm expression on his face, practically dragging you to the couch where he plops you down, kneeling before you to press the back of his hand to your cheek. He gives you a delicate smooch on the forehead before he stands up to walk to the kitchen. You hear the rushing sound of water from the faucet filling up a container and within seconds, he’s back, sitting beside you, handing you a full glass. “Drink this, sweetie.” You take it, tipping it into your mouth slowly until it’s half full and you’re properly quenched. He studies you in silence, scooching nearer with his hand resting on top of yours. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great,” you giggle, leaning towards him, lips grazing his with a crooked, goofy smile.

He laughs. “It looks like you had a lot of fun with your friends.” He sniffs, adding, “Your breath is very fruity.”

“Is it gross?” You frown at him, feigning embarrassment.

He shakes his head. “Not at all, honey. In fact, it’s very sweet.”  

“You’re very sweet,” you respond, kissing him sloppily. Your hands grip to his t-shirt, tugging at the fabric to bring him closer to you.

Chuckling into your mouth, he pulls away, licking his lips. “Honey, you’re drunk.”

“No I’m not!” you exclaim. “I want you, baby! Don’t you want me?” 

“Of course I want you. I always want you. But not like this. Let’s sober up first.”

“But I want it now!” you whine, being absolutely unbearable.

The smile on his face remains, ever so patient even when you’re being an annoying little shit. He nuzzles his nose to yours, cupping your cheek in his palm. “We’ll do it later, okay?” His voice lowers, mouth hot on your ear now. “Please, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl and listen to daddy?”

You groan, squeezing your legs together, grabbing him firmer. “Don’t tease me like that!”

He laughs again, placing another loving kiss on your forehead. “How about I make us some sandwiches and we watch a movie? Then, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” 

You release him, sighing, still pretending to be disappointed when in fact, you’re more than satisfied. Thrilled beyond belief that you’re married to this incredible specimen of a man. “Fine. I guess that’s alright.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

What You Do to Me

Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked

Notes: This was an abandoned Kinktober prompt from forever ago, so. Enjoy.

Not beta-read. Will probably spot 80 typos as soon as I post. Also posted it to the wrong blog the first time, whoops.

Length: 4.9K

Warnings: Best friend's dad Jake; age gap; praise kink; scent kink; masturbation; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal fingering; finger sucking; safe sex

Summary: You'd had a crush on your best friend's father for as long as you'd known the guy. It had been years. You'd gone on dates with other people; you'd had a couple of relationships, but you were never able to get the man fully out of your head. Jake made you so nervous, and it didn't take much—a hand on your back as he passed you in the kitchen, a smile across the table, a cheeky wink as he said pointedly said something so deeply uncool that Rebecca groaned in frustration. He was so intimidating, and brilliant, and gorgeous—and despite your intelligence, he just scrambled your brain.

GIF by stilinskiderek

“I’m sorry about this.”

It had to be the fifth time you said it, but you seemed not to be able to think of anything else to say. You almost never could when Mr. Seresin was nearby. The soft chuckle that he loosed now did absolutely nothing to lessen your embarrassment—which was insane.

You'd been coming to the man's house for years, but you couldn't shut off the part of you that was so nervous in his presence. He glanced back toward you, shifting your duffel bag in his hands as he watched you hang up your coat on what had essentially become your hook in his home. 

“It’s alright,” He insisted. “Are you hungry?”

You were starving, but you didn’t want to inconvenience the man more than you already had. Your old college roommate and best friend, Rebecca Seresin, wouldn’t be home for a full day, so you’d be alone with Mr. Seresin the entire time.

It was your own fault—you’d misread one of her messages and thought that she would be home when your train got in. You just wanted to keep yourself busy for the next day and not bother Mr. Seresin any more than you already had. 

“No! No,” You fibbed, shaking your head. 

But his little smile and knowingly raised brows told you that he didn’t buy your insistence for a second. 

“Well, I was planning on ordering pizza anyway. You’re more than welcome to it when it gets here.” He turned away from you, adding, “Make yourself at home. I’ll go put your bag in your room.”

You bit your lip. Your room. It was his guest room, but you'd stayed there so often that he'd come to think of it as yours. It made you giddy. You’d been to the Seresin home so many times over the last few years, a few of your standard toiletries and a couple of spare pairs of clothes had their place in the guest room. When Rebecca had first invited you over for Thanksgiving break years ago, you couldn’t have known that you’d wind up spending so much time at the Seresin house. 

You knew where everything was, you did the occasional load of your laundry, you knew where they hid the spare key. You were comfortable. Well—you were usually comfortable. Finding yourself alone with Mr. Seresin like this was pretty out of the ordinary.

You'd had a crush on your best friend's father for as long as you'd known the guy. It had been years. You'd gone on dates with other people; you'd had a couple of relationships, but you were never able to get the man fully out of your head. Jake made you so nervous, and it didn't take much—a hand on your back as he passed you in the kitchen, a smile across the table, a cheeky wink as he said pointedly said something so deeply uncool that Rebecca groaned in frustration. He was so intimidating, and brilliant, and gorgeous—and despite your intelligence, he just scrambled your brain.

You walked deeper into the home, glancing around the familiar surroundings. You’d take your time heading up, you decided. You wanted to shower; you felt so gunky from the hours-long train trip. You walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and looking through the things in there. 

There wasn’t a lot, so maybe he really had been planning on ordering a pizza before you called him to ask him to pick you up from the station. You eyed the six pack of beer before you glanced back, as if expecting Mr. Seresin to pop up and shoo you away from the alcohol like a bad puppy. When he didn’t, you reached out, taking one of the cans and shutting the fridge. You pushed yourself up onto the counter, opening the beer and taking a sip.

Your stomach flipped at the sound of Mr. Seresin’s footsteps nearing again. You tugged your phone out of your pocket, eyeing the screen and swiping through various apps to occupy your attention. His footsteps slowed, then seemed to still. You could feel his gaze lingering on you. It was a feeling that you’d grown more and more familiar with, and longed increasingly over the last few years. 

“You gonna ID me?” You finally quipped as he came closer. 

“I know you’re old enough. Have been for a while.”

You watched him round to you, leaning heavily on the counter as he drew out his phone. He seemed to swipe through a few things with a deep knit to his brow. You let yourself just watch for a few quiet moments. You’d rarely had the opportunity to look at him like this, to admire his features so openly, without fear of your friend catching you. His tongue poked out, and your stomach fluttered as he swept it along his lower lip. 

“Extra cheese alright for you?” He asked. Your stomach flipped again as his eyes darted up to yours, catching you staring. 

“Sure,” You agreed. You reached out to take a sip of your beer, but he took it before you could, raising it to his lips and taking a deep pull. You scoffed a stunned laugh, brows raising. 

“Excuse you,” You reached out, prying it from his hand, and trying to ignore the skittering of goosebumps that ran up your arm as your fingers brushed his. 

“My house, my beer,” He reminded you. 

“Well, I licked it, so it’s mine.” 

It was juvenile nit-picking, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped to your lips before he hurriedly looked down at his phone, clearing his throat. Hell, you needed to get out of there. 

“I’m gonna go freshen up.” You slid off of the counter, leaving the beer on the counter and sliding past him. 

“Pizza should be here in twenty.”

“Sounds good!” 

--

The guest room was just as you remembered it—sky blue walls, queen-sized bed, low walnut  dresser and all. You crouched beside your duffel bag, fishing through it for a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt. You hesitated as you drew them out, lips twisting thoughtfully. The combo was comfy, but it wasn’t the cutest thing you’d brought with you. You reached deeper into the bag, drawing out a pair of tight-fitting leggings and a tank top with a low back and a sweetheart neckline—

No! No, why would you do that? Mr. Seresin wasn’t looking at you that way…But, if he wasn’t looking, what was the harm in dressing this way? 

You shoved the sweatpants and long sleeve top back into your bag before straightening up, stripping off. You kicked your clothing into a pile beside your duffel bag. If you’d only been there a time or two, you might’ve been more wary of leaving your things that way, but the Seresin house felt like a home away from home. You’d neaten up later. 

You headed into the bathroom, kicking the door shut and cranking on the shower. You began to hum that you’d had stuck in your head all day, dropping your clothes on the counter to change into. You got into the shower, tugging the curtain shut. You took your time cleaning up, using the water’s cover to transition from humming to singing softly under your breath. 

You managed to lose track of time, only realizing how long you’d taken when you heard a knock on the door. Your eyes widened as you heard the door open just a little. 

“Pizza’s here.” 

“Okay!” You squeaked, “Thanks!” 

You pushed out a breath as you heard the door close again. You shut the shower off, listening closely for the sound of the bedroom door closing as well. You snagged your towel from the bar outside of the shower, drying yourself off before stepping out. You eyed your outfit again. It was going to be fine—if he really didn’t care, then it really wouldn’t bug him, right? And if he did…A thrill of excitement trickled over you as you dressed. You gave yourself a look in the mirror, eyeing the expanse of your back revealed by your top. You gave a little shimmy, grinning at yourself before opening the door. You drift back into your room, bending down and scooping up your clothes to toss into the hamper. You glanced through it, frowning. 

Didn’t you…

You turned, glancing between where you stood and where you’d dropped your things. 

Where did your underwear go? 

--

“You’re not seeing anyone?”

Maybe there was some wishful thinking on your part, but you were almost certain that Mr. Seresin was flirting with you—and that question wasn’t helping. The conversation hadn’t just been limited to the typical topics that you tended to discuss with Rebecca present. Sure, he’d asked you about how work was going, but it had moved on to what each of you liked to do in your free time, what you wanted your future to look like, his favorite places that he’d traveled, and where he’d like to go in the future—and now, whether or not you were seeing anyone.

You shrugged a little, poking a few remaining crumbs on your plate. 

“Guys my age just don't interest me. They’re all immature little assholes.” 

“I seem to remember being like that.” 

“You’re not anymore?”

“Ouch!” Jake had laughed, slapping his hand over his heart. “That hurt me.” 

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” You couldn’t resist the opportunity to ask. Jake’s brows rose a touch before he gave a short shrug. 

“I haven’t for a while.” 

“Why not?” 

“Just haven’t felt the need.” 

Your brow furrowed, your head tipping to the side as you considered that. 

“Becca’s moved out, you’re here all by yourself…Doesn’t that get lonely?” 

“Work keeps me busy.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

Your stomach flipped as Jake’s eyes narrowed. He finally looked down at his food, shrugging again. 

“I don’t think about it much.”

You weren’t sure you believed that—and it certainly wasn't a no.

-- 

“You don’t have to do those.”

You kept your focus on the dishes in front of you, even as he joined you at the counter. 

“I really don’t mind.”

“You’re an angel.” 

Angel—that had no right sounding so goddamn good coming out of his mouth. 

“That’s probably a bit much, Mr. Seresin.”

“You can call me Jake, you know.”

“I know,” You chuckled. “Just…Just a habit, I guess.” 

“We’ll have to break you of that.”

The assertion made your stomach a flurry of butterflies. You hadn’t been blind to the speculative little looks that he had given you throughout dinner, or the change in his tone as you’d asked about him being lonely.

“Want another one?” You heard. You glanced back toward Jake to find him taking another beer out of the fridge. 

“Sure,” You nodded, “Thanks.” 

You bit your lip as Jake sidled up beside you again, setting the beer down by the sink and taking a sip from his own.

“I’m gonna head up in a bit,” He warned, “But you’re obviously welcome to stay up, do whatever you want.” 

You nodded, trying to ignore the pangs of inadequacy and disappointment that made a home in your chest. 

“Sounds good,” You fibbed. “Long day?” 

“Yeah, and I’ve got a few emails to wrap and send off before I head to bed.” Jake raised the beer to his lips. “Holler if you need anything, though.” 

“Sure! Thanks. And thanks again, for,” You raised a hand, waving around the kitchen, “You know.” 

“Anytime,” He smiled. He patted your back, holding your gaze. “Goodnight.” 

Damn, his hand felt so wide and so warm against your skin. You fought back a shiver, but couldn’t help pressing back into his touch just a little. 

“Night,” You murmured. You saw a slight flicker in his expression, but before you could read into it, Jake was pulling back, his hand falling away. You turned back to the dishes, sighing as his footsteps receded. You could still feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. It was scant contact, but you were pretty sure you’d be thinking about that all night. 

You shut off the sink, looking around. The house was so quiet. What the hell were you going to do? You supposed you could watch something? They had, like, every streaming service known to man, but you didn’t really want to watch anything. You sighed heavily, resigning yourself to a night of reading and fantasizing in your bed.

--  

He shouldn’t have taken them. What the hell was he thinking? Jake eyed the pillow that he’d tucked your underwear beneath, swallowing thickly. He’d spotted them as he’d been leaving the guest room, just plopped atop a pile of clothing next to your duffel bag. He’d been thinking about them all throughout dinner—the dirty little secret waiting for him in his bedroom. He found himself listening for your footsteps, but…Nothing. Maybe he could just sneak them back into your room without you noticing? He could—He was sure he could. 

Jake lifted the pillow away, taking up the scrap of black lace. He hesitated, heart pounding in his chest before he raised them closer. He took a whiff, then moaned quietly, pressing his face fully into the fabric as his dick twitched in his pants. Fuck, he could get addicted to that scent. He glanced back toward the closed door. You wouldn’t be up anytime soon, right? You’d probably stay downstairs, watch something before you headed up. He’d have time to put them back. He could be quick. 

Jake hurriedly stripped off and grabbed some lube before he climbed onto his bed, taking up your panties again. He laid back, grasping himself in his slicked hand and holding the panties to his face with the other. He drew a deep breath in through his nose, humming low in his throat as he jacked his hardening cock. 

You’d been damn near irresistible at dinner. The swell of your breasts had been tantalizingly visible as you’d leaned over your plate. The low back top exposing the expanse of your smooth skin had nearly driven him to distraction when he’d seen you at the sink, and the leggings you’d opted for had made him want to peel them off of you and bend you over the goddamn counter.

Were you still downstairs, laid out on the couch? He’d seen you make yourself at home before, one leg on the cushions, the other on the floor. Jake wanted to push your thighs wide and bury his face between them. He wanted to feel you grind against his lips, hear the little gasps and whines he was sure you’d make. He’d felt you press against him in the kitchen—he was willing to bet you’d be fucking gag for it. 

Jake took in another heady breath, groaning, “Fuck,” Aloud before he could stop himself. 

-- 

You froze at the curse. You’d been on your way to your bedroom when you’d heard it. Was Jake…Okay? Maybe he’d stubbed his toe, or dropped his phone behind the bed, or— 

Your jaw dropped, heart pounding as you heard him moan. There was no way he was making that sound because of a stubbed toe. You bit your lip, creeping closer and pressing your ear to the door. You couldn’t hear as much as you could if you just….Opened the door a little. 

You bit your lip, shaking your head. No way, there was no way you were going to do that. It would be a gross invasion of privacy, he’d surely kick you out of the house if he caught you. But you could listen just a tiny bit more, right? You pressed your ear even closer, letting your eyes slide closed as you heard him panting, cursing.

Was he naked? Had he just tugged his cock out of his sweatpants for a quick one? You slipped your fingers beneath the band of your leggings, toying with your neglected, tingling clit. You breathed softly between your parted lips as you ground against your hand, straining to hear the needy grunts and groans on the other side of the door. Fuck, you had to be quick. If he caught you—

Your heart plummeted into your stomach as you heard him say your name. Your fingers stilled, eyes popping open as you stood outside of his bedroom with your hand in your pants. Could he see your feet beneath the door? Had you made a sound and not realized? What as he going to do—

Jake groaned your name again, the sound chased with a ragged-sounding, “Angel…Mm, fuck, smell so fucking good…” 

You slowly slid your hand out of your pants as you stared down at the doorknob. You could just hardly hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. You swallowed thickly before you raised your shaking hand to the knob, slowly turning it. You opened it slowly, wary of the door creaking. You finally opened it just enough to see the bed. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Jake splayed out on top of the sheets, thrusting up into his hand as he pressed something to his nose. He murmured your name again, thighs tensing as his thumb swept across his cock head. You got a better look at the fabric in his hand as your focus adjusted to the dim light of the room. 

You swallowed thickly. You could still leave—he hadn’t seen you. But when would you ever have another chance like this? You’d caught him red-handed. You drew in a deep, steadying breath as you gathered your courage.

“Finish answering those emails?” 

You watched as Jake started, scrambling back and yanking his sheets up to cover his body. You took in his wide, almost wild eyes, and the flush rising in his cheeks. He swallowed thickly. 

“What are you doing in here?” 

“Looking for those,” You nodded toward the panties where they were still balled in his fist. His grip tightened on them as his glance darted to the lace. You climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. 

“What are you doing?” He asked lowly. You shifted in his lap, thrilling at the feeling of his cock beneath his sheets. 

“What we’ve both been thinking about.” 

“This isn’t right.” “Neither is stealing my panties, but that didn’t stop you.” 

He heaved in a deep breath, jaw going tight. 

“I shouldn’t have taken them and I’m sorry. You—” He sucked in a breath as you shifted in his lap again. “You need to leave."

“Why? So you can finish the job up here yourself?” You searched his face, letting your focus travel down to his broad shoulders and muscled chest. You’ve often seen him in sweat-soaked shirts, caught the slightest patch of skin as he’s raised his shirt to swipe at his forehead, but the glimpses have always been so brief, and few and far between

“I mean I could, but…” You leaned in, raising your pussy-slicked fingers to his face, sliding them against his lower lip, “Then we’d both have to deal have our fun alone.” 

Jake’s tongue swept across his lips, just barely grazing your fingertips as you pulled them back. You watched his eyelashes flutter, his nostrils flare as he took in the scent of you. He tipped his chin up, tongue darting out to sweep across your fingertips. You smoothed your hand over his cheek, stomach swirling with butterflies as he turned his face into your palm. You pressed closer, brushing a kiss along his tight jaw. Jake drew in a deep breath, shaking his head. 

“We shouldn’t,” He mumbled—but the insistence wasn’t nearly as stern as it had been just a few moments okay. You rolled your hips down against him, resting your forehead against his. 

“Do you want me?” 

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” You reached down, taking hold of his hand. He let you lift it, fingers trailing gently over your side, around to the band of your leggings. You let it linger there for a moment before you guided it beneath the fabric. You sighed softly as his fingertips grazed your aching clit, and smiled as he reached further down, swiping against your  slick folds.

“You feel that? What you do to me?” You whispered, tipping your hips into his touch. “That’s all for you, Jake.” 

You heard him moan low in his throat, and your heart stuttered as he tipped his chin up, his lips brushing yours. 

“Fuck, angel,” He murmured, “What are you doing to me?” 

Jake’s lips crashed into yours, sending you swaying back, then into him again. You moaned, parting your lips and sharing heated kisses. You whined as Jake leaned back and slid his hand from your leggings, wary that he was changing his mind. Instead, you watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth before he shoved them into yours. 

You gagged at the sudden intrusion, raising your hand and grasping his wrist as he stroked his fingers along your tongue. You sucked in a greedy breath as he yanked his hand away again, grasping the backs of your thighs and tipping you onto the mattress. You pulled your top up, tossing it off as he grasped your waistband, tugging your leggings down and flinging them away. Your mouth fell open as he dove between your legs, his shoulders pressing your thighs wide. Your eyelids fluttered as his tongue swept across your pussy. 

You shuddered at the slick, heated slide of his tongue against your plumping cunt. His lips brushed, then wrapped around your clit, sucking it tenderly. Your mouth fell open with a moan, your hand sliding down into his closely-cropped hair. You didn’t need to urge him on, or plead. Jake tipped his head from side to side, teasing you messily. You could feel the wet slip of your juices spreading between your thighs with each lash of his tongue. You raised your other hand to your breasts, smoothing your thumb over your pebbling nipple, arching up as your pleasure began to swell. 

You felt so close so quickly, and riled up further as he speared a finger into your throbbing pussy. You felt his head lift, his tongue sweeping from side to side as he pumped and curled his finger, then added another. You bit your lip as your cunt clenched around him, unable to help leaning into the sensation. 

“Jake,” You warned, “I’m— Oh god.” Your warning was bitten off as Jake’s eyes crinkled with his smile. He didn’t let you get another word in as he leveled sucking kisses to your clit. Your mouth fell open, your grip tightening on his hair as your hips bounded down against his lips. He groaned against you, the vibration sparking every nerve in your body as you let yourself go, your eyes squeezed shut as waves of pleasure pulsed through your body. You sagged back against the mattress, heart pounding as Jake drew his fingers from you. His kisses trailed up over your belly, brushing across your breasts before he caught your lips in a filthy kiss. You shivered at the taste of your arousal as it lingered on his tongue. 

You felt his hardened cock brushing against your slick inner thighs as he ground against you. You reached down, curling your fingers around him, and thrilling at the feeling of him in your grasp. You’d seen him earlier, of course, but the light had been dim, and now, with your fingers wrapped around him, he felt so damn big—Not just long, but thick. 

“What do you want, angel?” Jake murmured between kisses. “Anything, ask for anything, I’ll fucking give it to you.”

“I want you to fuck me, Jake.” 

A wide grin split across his face as he pressed his hand between your legs, palming the slick, tender flesh.

“Your wish is my command.” 

--  

“That too much for you?” 

You would’ve been more self-conscious about your needy whimper if it wasn’t for the slight note of strain in his voice. You’d know that you were in for a wild ride when you’d rolled the condom on, but this was next level. You swallowed thickly, your eyelids fluttering and blinking against the well of pleasurable tears. 

“N-no,” You breathed. 

“Good girl. Almost there, angel.” 

Almost? 

“How much more is there?” 

Jake chuckled through your incredulous question. 

“You’re taking me so goddamn well.” His praise made you arch up against him, your breasts brushing against his muscles as you pulled in a shuddering breath. 

“Fucking made for my cock—mm.” His voice dropped to a breathy murmur as his hips finally pressed flush against yours. Your nails dug into the strong, tanned skin of his shoulders. Your cunt clutched at him greedily, adjusting to the almost harsh way his girth spread you. You let your eyes slide closed as he planted his knees on the mattress, levering your hips against his and gaining better purchase. 

Despite your somewhat leisurely preparation and the tender way that he eased into you, the first snap of his hips was almost brutal. Your moan choked out of your throat, a broken yell of his name leaving you as your nails dragged harshly across his skin.

“You have any idea—How long I’ve wanted you?” He grunted between deep thrusts. “How badly I wanted to—fuck—bend you over the goddamn counter earlier?” 

You couldn’t stop the satisfied, thrilled grin that spread your lips, finally certain that your flirty gambit had hit the nail on this particular head.

“You mean you didn’t just steal my panties for fun?” 

Jake huffed a strained laugh as he dipped his head down for a deep, searching kiss. You curled your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close as your hips drove up against his. He broke your kiss with a gentle nip to your lower lip, and a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Hold on tight, pretty girl.” 

He set an almost furious pace, the sounds of your slapping skin nearly drowning out your whimpers. Your arms tightened around him, clinging to him as he took and took and took. You peered up at him almost wondrously, watching the flex and clenching of his muscles; the roll of his hips; the shine of your juices on his condom covered cock as he fucked you. Your toes curled in the sheets as your legs wrapped around his. 

“Jake,” You moaned, “You feel so fucking big—Fuck, just like that.” 

His growl-edged groan tore through you as his pace seemed to stutter a little. 

“Harder?” You begged. He chuckled cruelly, thumbs swiping against your hips.

“Angel,” He shook his head, “Any harder and I’d break you.” 

You tipped your head back against the pillows, surrendering to his whims—his thrusts, curses, kisses, nips, bites. You cunt throbbed as he drew his cock back, the tip still nestled in your entrance. He watched you closely, eyes dark with want as you strained against his grips and tried to draw him back in. 

“Do you think you could cum just like this?” He murmured. “Hm?”

“I want your cock, Jake.” 

“You have it, angel. You feel that?” You whimpered, wriggling against the sheets as he eased himself back in, inch by tortuously slow inch. “You feel what you do to me?” 

You nodded blearily, growing closer to your orgasm as he grasped your wrists in one of his hands and pulled them up over your head. He curled close again, chest brushing yours as his hips ground into you deeply.

“Jake,” You sighed, forehead knocking against his, arching up against him. “I’m almost—fuck, ‘m so close, please.” 

Jake grinned brightly, sliding his hand between the two of you and toying with your tender clit. Your jaw dropped at the onslaught, your pussy tightening and throbbing as you came. Jake followed close behind, a low, rough growl pushing against your neck as he followed close behind. Your eyes closed as his hips bounded, then stilled. He sighed into your neck, breath hot against your neck as the two of you settled. He tipped his head up, nuzzling your temple as you smoothed your hands over his back.

He drew out of you slowly, your cunt aching and clenching as he pulled away. You swallowed thickly, peering up at the ceiling as you heard Jake get out of bed. It was chased by the click of him turning on his bathroom light, and the hush of running water. 

Oh…God, that was good, but you hadn’t thought about this part. Was he going to ask you to go back to your room? Should he even have to ask? You know what, maybe you should just go right now, before he had to say anything—

You propped yourself up on your elbows as Jake climbed back into bed, gently pushing your thighs apart and wiping you down. You bit back a bashful smile as he pressed a kiss to your hip. You watched him lob the washcloth toward the hamper before he cuddled close, propping his hands up beside your elbows. 

“Going somewhere?” He asked. 

“Bed?” 

“You’re in one, angel.” Jake lowered his head, brushing his lips against yours. “But you’re welcome to go back to yours if you like.” 

You leaned up, taking his lower lip between your teeth and giving it a tug, grinning as he pressed closer, lowering the both of you back onto the sheets.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[artyandink]

𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳 | bartender!dean winchester

Summary: Dean Winchester needs a job after his little brother left for Stanford, and he’s good at mixing drinks. You happen to work at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, which is the place he chose to work at. He finds a family. He finds a new life. But he also finds you. But you have problems of your own.

A/N - My first reader series, do make sure to comment and/or reblog feedback. Set with S1/2 Dean cause I love our baby boy 😁 and pretend group chats exist on old phones lol

A/N 2 - All the chapters are named after drinks. The intensity of the chapter depends on the drink I chose for the title :) and banners are by @cafekitsune

TW: Alcohol (duh), mentions of drugs, roofies, abuse, mentions of abuse/r@pe, smoking, Ruby (she’s a warning in itself), unhinged group chat (also a warning in itself)

two - daiquiri

Megolodon: Cassieeee

Casanova: What?

Megolodon: You’re late

You: Yeahhhh, we’ve been waiting for weeks

Ben Dover: Sabbatical’s over, brother

Casanova: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Ruby-gina George: To hell with fifteen minutes, get your ass over here

Megolodon: Listen to the nice lady

Ruby-gina George: Shut up

Megolodon: Bite me

Ruby-gina George: Keep it up and I just might

Megolodon: I bet you’d like to

bDe: didn’t know you two swung that way

You: Neither did I

Ruby-gina George: WAIT NO

ScarJo: That’s news to me

Ben Dover: News to all of us, darling

Queen B: I leave for FIVE MINUTES and we’re already out of the closet

Ruby-gina George: NO CLOSETS

Ruby-gina George: HELL NO

Ruby-gina George: NO CLOSETS

Megolodon: THAT WASN’T THE MEANING-

ScarJo: We accept you, dw

Ruby-gina George: die in a hole

bDe: sounds like overcompensating

Ruby-gina George: ALL OF YOU DIE IN A HOLE

The clink of glasses filled the atmosphere, along with merry shouts, whistles and cheers as glass after glass slammed down onto the counter. But it wasn’t patrons, no. Afternoons were always chilled out, since not many patrons stopped by. The evenings always got the raunchiest. So here you all were, egging on Castiel and Benny in a shot contest. There were five shots of the Roadhouse’s strongest bottle of hard liquor, and you were all seeing who could down them the fastest. None of the people in the room were lightweights. There were lightweights, heavyweights, and then there were the bartenders at the Roadhouse, who Meg liked to call ‘jumbo-weights’.

“DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!” You were yelling, your voice mixed with those of Dean, Meg, Bela, Ruby and Jo. Benny finished first, slamming down the shot glass and whooping loudly, not even that buzzed while Cas dejectedly sipped his last shot, having missed by the fraction of a second.

“Cassie, sweetie, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Meg purred, gripping Cas’ shoulders tightly from behind. “You’re out of practice.”

“Or maybe I’m just good at throwing ‘em back.” Benny smirked, but then his smile dropped. “That sounded better in my head.”

“Glad we can agree.” You snickered, then cleared up the shot glasses. “C’mon, what next?”

“Meg.” Ruby shot up from her seat, beckoning her over. “You. Me. Shot challenge. Now.”

“So polite.” Meg drawled, but got up anyway, a familiar sultry smile on her lips as she lined up for the competition. “Bring it on, darling, I can do this in my sleep.” Benny racked the shots, a giggle coming from your mouth as Dean awkwardly looked to Castiel.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” Dean smiled, putting his hand out. “Dean. Winchester.”

“Castiel Novak, but everyone calls me Cas.” Cas shook Dean’s hand, finding himself warming up to this stranger.

“Cas.” Dean repeated under his breath, then nodded. “Alright, Cas. Let’s get you some water to wash down that hard liquor.”

“That would be ideal.” Cas nodded, instantly following Dean. In the meantime, Ruby and Meg were slamming back shots, and Ruby was just tagging behind Meg. You were egging them on, but you noticed something. Ruby usually downed shots easy as breathing. Now she wasn’t, which confused you. However, you brushed it off. It couldn’t be something bad. Your resident Regina George always was tough as hell.

Ruby-gina George: Been there, done that messed around

Megolodon: I'm having fun, don't put me down

Ruby-gina George: I'll never let you sweep me off my feet

Megolodon: THIS TIME BABY, I’LL BE BULLETPROOFFFFFF

You: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOUUUUUUU

bDe: *dies of laughter*

ScarJo: I’ve been on a beer run for FIVE MINUTES and y’all go mad

Queen B: Tsk tsk, eyes on the road, hon

ScarJo: Joke’s on you, I’m in the store

Ben Dover: Damn, how’d you get there so fast

ScarJo: I stole the keys to Val

Queen B: explosion incoming-

You: You did WHAT?!

ScarJo: I’M SORRY SHE’S A FAST CAR

You: YOU’RE GONNA PAY

Megolodon: Girlie, it’s just a car

Ruby-gina George: how dare you, Val’s a masterpiece

Megolodon: I mean, she shouldn’t take it that heavily

bDe: no she absolutely should, go to town sweetheart

You: THANK YOU

Ben Dover: Dean, brother, don’t encourage that behaviour

bDe: i will

Ben Dover: What if someone stole your car, then

bDe: murder

ScarJo: oh wow

You: SOMEONE GETS IT

bDe: lots of murder

Ben Dover: Brother-

bDe: torture first

bDe: lots of torture, then a whole lotta murder

ScarJo: Benny, you chose the wrong role models

You: shut up, YOU TOOK VAL

bDe: then more murder, and i’m gonna throw the bodies in a lake, no one will ever know

Ruby-gina George: Hold up, I’m coming with you

You: Jo, I’ve got your gravestone prepped

ScarJo: And you say we’re unhinged

You: Get your ass back to the roadhouse

bDe: i’ll get away with it, I swear

Megolodon: Why am I actually enjoying this

bDe: if I can’t have my baby, no one can

Evenings were always the more raunchy of times at the Roadhouse. The bar was now full of chatting passers-by, girls dressed in skimpy clothes and biker boys with tattoos winding around their necks. The shift today was yours, Ruby’s, Dean’s and Meg’s. There were an overwhelming amount of females working at the Roadhouse, if you were incredibly honest. As for the employees not working behind the bar, they were roughing it up at a booth, hollering and hooting like owls at a baseball game.

“So, darlin’, what do you do in your free time?” Dean asked you, cleaning out a glass with a rag and shooting a wink to a couple of giggling girls nearby. You poured a whiskey for a patron, sliding it across the table.

“Well, I’m a big fan of joyrides.” You answered with a goofy grin. “My Mustang’s always fun to take a spin in.” The mention of your Mustang got Dean’s eyebrows up to his hairline as he pointed out of the window.

“That beaut’s yours?” He exclaimed in disbelief, laughing. “Damn. That’s a serious muscle car.”

“Yeah, my Valkyrie. Val’s my sweetheart, always will be.” You looked up wistfully at the mention of your beloved car. “And your Chevy Impala, she’s absolutely gorgeous. I could listen to her purr all day.”

“That’s my Baby.” He bore the same wistful look you did, then nudged you. “We should take ‘em out for spins. Y’know, joyrides.”

“You sure?” You chuckled, looking up at him. “I don’t drive easy.”

“Even better.” He gave you a little wink paired with a click of his tongue. He flipped a bottle in his hand, pouring a whiskey shot expertly and handing it to you. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” You took the shot with a chuckle, sending the glass over to the sink. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“You’re very welcome.” He poured himself a shot and downed it, and you couldn’t help but focus slightly on his pouty, pink lips, almost hyper-fixating on them. But you tore your eyes away to serve a customer at the bar, a rather shady-looking guy who had a snake tattoo on his neck. He was also wearing sunglasses inside, which had Dean raising an eyebrow.

“You know who wears sunglasses inside?” He muttered into your ear as the man ordered a glass of Jack Daniel’s with his eyes on Meg. “Blind people… and douchebags.”

“I can’t fault you for that logic.” You laughed, pouring the man a glass and passing it to him as you turned back to Dean. “About that joyride, I’m down.”

His eyes lit up, a puppy-like grin now on his face as he fully faced you, elbow leaning on the counter. You couldn’t help but stare deep into those mossy eyes, mirroring the infectious smile on his face just as Meg stumbled up to you both with a groggy smile on your face, whiskey glass clutched tightly in her hand.

“You t-two look so… cute.” She giggled, leaning heavily on you. You saw the glass cup in her hand, and you caught a whiff of… Jack Daniel’s? “Smilin’ at each other, lovin’ each other, so adorable!” You raised an eyebrow, holding her steady as she continued to ramble. “You should marry each other. Ugh, I feel so… weird.”

“Does Meg usually get this slammed?” Dean whispered, and you shook your head, confused. That’s when Ruby sprang out from behind the bar, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his neck and slamming his head roughly down on the counter. “Woah, damn!”

“Ruby!” You gasped, but she snatched the glass from your hands and showed you the contents. There was a powdery white substance in it that you instantly recognised. “Damn it- she’s been roofied.”

“Bastard thought he was smooth with it.” She growled, holding the guy down. “It takes Meg a lot of strong tequila and a Long Island to make her that slammed.”

“I’m surprised you know that, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’m callin’ the police. Get this jackass locked up.” Dean glared daggers at who could’ve been Meg’s potential assaulter as he dialled the emergency number and explained the situation. Meg clung onto you, and you felt bad for her as you went to haul her off to bed, entertaining her every mindless babble about something or the other.

“You’re pretty.” Meg slurred as she hobbled with you. “You look like Rubes. She’s pretty too. Very pretty.”

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous.” You replied dryly, not out of disdain for Ruby but rather out of extreme concern for your friend. “Absolutely stunning.” Though there was part truth in that. You’d always wanted to be like Ruby- not give much of a damn. Able to speak every weird and/or rude comment that came to her mind and everyone would worship her for it. She could talk openly about where she came from, confidently, with a flick of her blonde hair and my-give-a-hoots-are-on-vacation attitude, but you weren’t inclined to open your mouth about it. “Let’s get you in here.”

You opened the door to your bedroom, limping to the bed and just letting Meg flop- “Wheeeeee!” She squealed as she went, but then was out cold the moment her face hit the mattress. You smiled at her antics despite the seriousness of the situation, drawing up your blanket and tucking her in, staying with her for a bit until you were sure she was ok. Then, as you descended the stairs, you’d found that the gang had cleared out the bar, which was helpful in the current climate. Especially now that the dude had been carted off to the nearest station.

You made eye contact with Ruby, who looked livid, but softened slightly when she saw you. “Is she ok?” She asked expectantly, and the tension seemed to lift a fraction when you nodded.

“We’re gonna have to tell my mom about this.” Jo sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

“The dude who tried his luck on Meg?” Dean shrugged, his brow furrowed a tad in concern. “His luck’s gonna say adiós once Ellen gets her hands on him.”

A few days later, you were up early, sat talking to Dean in one of the booths before you went on your joyride. The sun filtered in through rickety blinds, illuminating Dean’s emerald eyes as they gazed at you in a way that would bore through your soul. You hadn’t known Dean for more than a week, but he was such an easy person to be around. He was witty, but sometimes had trouble coming up with comebacks when flustered, had an easy demeanour while also seemingly being kind of lost himself. He was like a walking contradiction, and it intrigued you to no end. He could look like a sharp-jawed, drop dead gorgeous heartbreaker, but in his grey Henley, he just looked soft and innocent. Handsome and sweet.

Though, you knew he was too good for you. What with his smooth words, caring personality and overall just being Dean. You were, if anyone find out where you came from, a personified chessboard. Your entire being was checkered with black and white.

“C’mon.” He stood up, looking to the jukebox on the other side of the room. “Let’s dance.”

“Let’s what, sorry?” Your eyebrows raised slightly as he jogged over to the jukebox, playing Tiny Dancer by Elton John and outstretching his hand for you. “Oh, no, I’m not a dancer.”

“C’mon, don’t leave me hangin’ here.” Dean’s outstretched hand beckoned you over almost like a siren’s call, and what with his boyish grin, the charming sparkle in his eyes and the overall feeling of being wanted got you up with him and taking his calloused hand in your own, skin tingling with the feel of the ring on his finger, his own feeling sparks upon the silver band on your hand pressing against his warm skin. He drew you close, his arm around your waist in a sort of non-pervy way, like he wasn’t trying to force himself on you.

“Warning. I might step on your toes.” You gave him a look which was playfully serious, but Dean just gave you a cocky grin. Damn that smile.

“Just follow me, sweetheart, and you’ll be fine.” He raised the other hand that was already interlocked with his, the low rumble of his voice putting you at ease as he swayed you both from side to side, moving in a circle with a look in his eyes that he couldn’t explain as he gazed down at you. “See? You’re a goddamn natural.”

“Maybe I have a good teacher.” You replied smoothly, which seemed to stroke his ego, as he shot you a wink and a click of his tongue.

“Damn right, you do.” Dean gave you a bashful chuckle, then bit his lip as he smiled, both of you continuing the slow spin in a circle while Elton’s mellow voice hazed the atmosphere. “I’m gonna spin you, ok?”

“Don’t drop me.” You quipped, and he shook his head with a laugh.

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’.” He spun you out and then in, his arms crossed over your front.

“Did you have special dance lessons?” You asked with a giggle, holding his hands, his fingers gently rubbing and playing with yours. “You’re really good at this.”

“Well, my friend Bobby taught me.” Dean sighed into your ear, a low chuckle falling past his lips. “He’s a grouchy ol’ bastard, but I had a prom date that I needed to impress. Sadly, I never got to go with her. I was… sick… on the night of prom.” You brushed off the brief hesitancy, instead enjoying this brief moment of calm. Dean could tell that your nerves were frazzled from the events of Wednesday night. That’s the great thing about Dean. He reads people easily, all for his insistence on having no emotional intelligence whatsoever. You assumed that this was a distraction method.

“Ellen’s always been one for dancing.” You mentioned, shrugging as you rocked from side to side. You saw Ellen as practically a second mom. She took you in, and Benny, when you needed it. But she was lonely, and you were pained to see her like that. “But she hasn’t in a while. Not since she lost her husband.”

“Huh.” Dean’s voice had an intrigued tone to it. Like he had an idea. “We should set ‘em up.”

“Ellen… and this Bobby of yours?”

“Yeah, they’re the same age, both lonely old souls - with all due respect - and they would get along.” He tilted your head with his index so you’d look at him and his charismatic smirk, just begging you to say yes. “Whaddya say we play matchmaker, sweetheart?”

You found yourself conceding quickly to this man’s goddamn charms. “Ok, fine. But if this goes south, you’re to blame.”

“Duly noted.” He laughed, nodding proudly and squeezing your hand. “That deserves another spin.” He spun you again, so then you were facing him. “Y’know, I’m kinda honoured. Pretty lady such as you, dancin’ with a grunt like me… gives a man all sorts of ideas.”

“Are you flirting with me, Dean?” You raised a playful eyebrow, again involuntarily finding yourself giggling like a lovesick schoolgirl at his smooth words.

“Maybe.”

“That’s rather bold.”

“I don’t see you complaining.” You both locked eyes for a moment, then burst out into laughter, his lower register mixing well with yours in the dim, naturally lit room.

You were happy with this man. Really happy, that you’d found a good friend. You found a good friend in Dean Winchester.

And he’d found a new home in you.

The purr of Baby’s engine.

The windows rolled down and blowing through your hair.

Guns ‘n’ Roses’ ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ playing on a cassette tape.

All of it had you hooked on an impossibly addictive high, hopped up on the euphoria of singing the lyrics at the top of your lungs with Dean in the driver’s seat, a grin that could only connote inner nostalgia on his face as you both belted out the words off by heart. The feeling of the wind on your face, the thrill of how fast Baby was speeding down the highway and the sensation of being unchained… it all got you above the altitude of a kite.

Far above.

Dean’s eyes were on you when he wasn’t looking at the road, admiring the way the light hit the curve of your face and illuminated your eyes. He took in your sweet voice, filling him like a warm hug. He’d not known you for long, but to him, you were home. Someone he could turn to.

He found himself hooked on that pretty smile. Your smooth words that contrasted your otherwise humble nature. How one second you could be the calming force and next you’re busting out your wild side like nobody’s business. You seemed so… sure… of who you were. So easy on a misguided soul like him.

After his baby brother went to Stanford, his father didn’t see much point of keeping him there. John was a drunk, and a notoriously violent one at that, and he’d prevented Dean from going to college so he could take care of Sam. But his Sammy was all grown up, and he didn’t need Dean anymore. That broke him in pieces, and made him desperate to find someone to pick them up because he’d lost them.

He turned to you with a wide grin, meeting your eyes as the final chorus blared on the radio. There was no place you two would rather have been right now than here, just letting loose and having fun. Neither of you were allowed to be kids. Sammy was Dean’s reminder, and the ring on your finger was yours.

Painful reminders, but they were both ones you couldn’t let go.

Then Dean switched the cassette tape once the final notes rolled out, Eye of the Tiger playing loud and proud on the speakers.

This was like trying to get Sammy to eat his proteins when he was a kid. Only harder.

“C’mon, Bobby, it’s just a date.” Dean reasoned, chuckling slightly at his surrogate father sat in Baby’s passenger seat and looking rather like a pug with the grumpy face he had on. “You’re gonna sit down, be yourself and everything’ll go smooth like butter.”

Bobby bristled, glaring daggers at Dean, lips pursed. “See, that’s easy to say when you’re not the one on this date, boy. She’s gonna be some classy broad who orders a pinot noir, or a Chateau Margaux or whatever-the-hell, and I’m gonna be stuck wonderin’ what the hell all these fancy names mean.”

“See, you don’t know until you try.”

“Don’t give me that chick flick crap, you idjit.”

“Look, all I’m saying is don’t get too hopped up on the idea of being perfect for Ellen.” Dean shrugged. “Be cool, yeah, and flatter her, give her some compliments and make her feel at home, but don’t go saying things like-”

“This sucks balls.” Bobby grumbled, not at all to Dean’s surprise.

“See? Don’t say that.” He saw Ellen in the rear view mirror, and clapped Bobby’s shoulder. “Ok, Bobby, you’re up. Knock her socks off for me, yeah?”

Bobby had no choice but to get out of the car, hoping that he didn’t look like a fool, or maybe his gelled back hair was neat and didn’t have a dreaded flyaway. That his collar wasn’t popped. That his jeans didn’t have some unexplained stain on them. He stepped to Ellen, who gave him a warm smile. “Balls.” He muttered under his breath. She really did look like a classy lady, which sent his embarrassment into overdrive.

“Hi, I’m Ellen.” She introduced, her voice smooth as honey and making Bobby even more nervous that yes, this woman was definitely far above his league.

“Bobby.” He replied stiffly, but then held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Guess so.” They linked arms, striding towards the restaurant, where you and Dean had made a reservation. When the two were guided to their table, they were provided with a drinks menu. Ellen didn’t even take one minute scanning it, flicking through at the speed of light and announcing that she knew what she wanted. Bobby, however, was stumped. Wine? Pinot grigio? Champagne? But there were so many options for one champagne. Why couldn’t the damn drink options be more simple? Beer was definitely out of the question, though his mouth watered and taste buds craved for the Heineken embossed in gold on the menu.

But he knew that he wanted the medium rare steak, announcing that to Ellen, who replied that she’d be having sea bass fillets with specialised dressing and garnish which sounded rather fancy. It did nothing to soothe Bobby’s poor nerves. Ellen, meanwhile, was torn between remaining soft spoken with this man or being, y’know, herself. He seemed decent, and considerate, with the way he carefully looked over the drinks and food menus.

“Madam, sir, can I take your order?” A waiter with a flip notebook arrived beside them, and Bobby gestured for Ellen to speak, not wanting to seem overbearing.

“The sea bass fillet with the special dressing and garnish,” Ellen answered smoothly, her eyes flicking to Bobby to gauge his reaction to the next words, “and one Heineken.”

The choice of drink lifted Bobby’s spirits instantly, and that gave him the green light to not strive to impress the beautiful lady across from him. “And I’ll have the steak, medium rare. And as for the drink, I’ll have what the lady’s having.”

“Of course.” The waiter took the menus and left the table, inciting a moment for the two to laugh at their own anxiety.

“You thought I’d be one of those high-horse, classy women, didn’t you?” Ellen guessed, and Bobby nodded bashfully.

“Guilty. I haven’t done this in a long while.” He chuckled, warming up to Ellen quickly. “You’re a woman after my own heart. Always loved a good Heineken.”

“You and me both.”

After they’d had dinner, they exited the restaurant, but instead of parting ways, Bobby offered his arm once more to Ellen. “Mind walking for a while with this ol’ fool?”

“Not at all.”

NEXT UP:

“Jo.” Ruby sat down in front of Jo, who was in animated conversation with Charlie. They both turned to her in surprise and identical raised eyebrows. “And you, Charlie. I need advice.”

Maybe Charlie could help. After all, she was an expert in the field Ruby needed advice on. This was an extremely unfamiliar topic, even though she’d grown up in a family full of suspiciously close women.

Oh, god, this was nerve wracking.

Jo looked concerned, but nodded, and Charlie did the same. “Sure, go ahead.” Jo gestured for Ruby to continue, while Charlie sat eagerly forward in her seat, waiting for Ruby to speak.

“Ok.” She took a deep breath, her eyes briefly flicking to Meg. “What if… what if I…”

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[the-flaminhos]

MAZE RUNNER HEADCANONS CAUSE I SAID SO. Anyways this is gonna end up leaning more towards Minewt/ Newtmas head canons but I want this to be ivy trio so bad so if you squint hard enough that’s what you’ll get. UH YEAH. Angst, fluff, random shit, it’ll probably be here. Also heads up this is MY head so you don’t need to agree dude. ENJOY !!

- In the glade Minho and Newt used to make fun of gally but all in good spirit until gally dragged Minho in the circle just to have his ass whooped

- Thomas and Minho like collecting shells and showing newt but one time they found one that reminded them of chuck, cried, showed newt, and made him cry too

- In the safe haven, when Thomas and Newt started flatting together people would constantly bring up the roommates trope and they wouldn’t get it all the way up until they started dating

- The ivy trio does movie night on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday

- Thomas tried the therapy thing where you write notes to people you dislike and set them on fire but everyone got the wrong idea and thought it was a bonfire. That’s how many letters he wrote.

- They started a band they called “Gladiators” but it’s pronounced “Glade-iators” and Minho thinks he’s a genius every time he corrects someone on it

- The band featured fry on the drums and Gally on the guitar, Minho sings, newt plays the bass, and Thomas knows how to fucking play the keyboard.

- Newt and Minho speak in a stupid made up language to confuse Thomas but Thomas learnt the “words” and confused them right back.

- Thomas will call newt stuff like: Babe, baby, dude, and bro

- Newt calls Thomas stuff like: Darling, love, dear, and sweet

- Minho and Brenda start dating and cringe at the sound of both (they call each other honey.)

- In the glade, when it was just newt and Minho up during bonfire nights they’d stargaze for about half an hour before cringing and leaving to sleep with an awkward hug

- Thomas and Minho shadow box each other to see who has to help set up bonfires and Thomas loses every time

- When the three of them had to put names on the tribute rock they all cried at the same intensity while carving Chucks name out

- Newt is a wet the brush and the paste kinda guy, Thomas does his dry, and Minho does his with just a wet brush

- Newt: socks and sandals. Thomas: sandals, no socks. Minho: just socks cause he can’t be fucked with sandals cause he fell while running once.

- Newt likes Caramelo Thomas like almond chocolate and Minho adores white chocolate

- When newt is sad but doesn’t want to do his sobbing to Thomas he’ll cry to Minho for hours as Thomas listens from the other room wondering if he’s still good enough for newt

- Thomas and Minho like eating dinner together when newt decides to eat dinner with his sister

- The first time Thomas and newt made out they were both shit faced so the only person who actually remembers it happening is Minho

- Sometimes when Minho thinks nothing is real newt is experiencing the worst sleep paralysis and Thomas is thinking about what he could’ve done to help everyone. Sometimes it all lines up and they can’t help each other.

- Newt has a fear of throwing up

- Minho hates mint more than life but will always take gum if offered it

- newt: Bloody hell! Minho: holy shuck faced idiot!! Thomas: FUCK!!!

- Newt likes his coffee with more milk than coffee and that only IF he’s drinking the stuff otherwise its tea, Thomas drinks his black and everyone hates it, and Minho is a cappuccino kinda guy

Okay I’ll shut up now whanau😭😭

All my love to you - Nevaya <33

[moralesmilesanhour]

'cold turkey' but i rewrote it - part two!

summary: the festivities have begun! but you forgot the drinks. whoops. wc: 2k+ a/n: I almost cut this short at like a thousand words but I knew in my SPIRIIITT that I wanted to add more twists and turns to this thing. It's a bit rushed but let's just say I'm very glad I did! if you feel like it: comment your favorite holiday-related dishes :) part one part two

“Traffic was nuts today,” your older sister Alanna sighed as she hauled a carton full of cans of soda over to the kitchen. She looked up and saw Miles, who smiled and gave her a quick wave. “Oh my god, Miles?”

“One and only,” he replied. “Been a minute, ain’t it?”

The woman set the carton down on the floor. “When did you get so big? You're taller than me!”

Miles shrugged. “Growth spurt.”

“Alright then, nice seeing you,” Alanna turned and joined you on the couch with that glint in her eye and smirk that appeared only when she was scheming. “He’s mad cute now, right?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “ ‘Lana, no. Not happening.”

“Come on, I’ve seen the niggas you been with and he’s literally your type–”

“Can you lower your voice? He’s right there!” you yell-whispered. 

You craned your neck to see if Miles was listening. His head was down, all focus seemingly directed towards cooking beans. 

You turned back towards Alanna. “Anyway, he’s Jeff’s kid. I don’t want beef with Jeff or his mama if we break up. They literally live around the corner, do you know how awkward that’s gonna be?”

“So pessimistic,” Alanna’s lips were upturned into a pout. “How you just met him and you already imagining the breakup?”

“I’m being realisti–”

“The beans are done!” Miles’ voice interrupted. 

You called out, “That’s great, thank you so much! I’ll see you later this evening?”

He emerged from the kitchen and began to put on his sneakers. “Yup, lookin’ forward to it,” he stood up and made direct eye contact with you as he smiled. “Good luck with med school.”

With that, Miles grabbed his jacket off of the hook by the entrance, and left.

Your sister watched the door shut behind him with a satisfied grin. “He likes you.”

“No he don’t,” you retorted, keeping your eyes glued to your socks. “You want him to like me.”

The image of fluttering lashes and the scar on his cheek returned to you. How Alanna could tell even without her knowing about that little encounter was a mystery.

“Well, either way, do what you want,” she rose from the couch with a sigh of resignation. “I’m just saying he seems sweet. Now, help me decorate, and I’ll let you make the playlist after.”

You perked up at the thought of having DJ privileges and hopped to your feet. “You got it!”

-

Only half an hour had passed since relatives and family friends began trickling in, but you were already exhausted. One more inescapable hug and barrage of questioning, and you swore you’d have a breakdown. 

Ding dong!

“I’ll get it!” you announced, narrowly escaping being accosted by one of your aunts as you made a beeline for the door.

It was Miles again, this time with company.

“Welcome back,” you greeted Miles and stepped back to open the door wider. “Hey Mr. and Mrs. Morales!”

“Y/N! It’s been so long, tú eres tan guapa!” Rio Morales briefly took both of your hands in hers before entering, tugging Miles along with her.

Jefferson Morales was the last to go inside. His warm smile was a stark contrast to his wide, imposing frame. “I see Miles didn’t burn your kitchen down,” he laughed heartily. “He wasn’t too much trouble?”

Not in the way you were expecting.

You shook her head politely, “No, not at all! He even helped me finish dinner.”

Jefferson’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, that’s good to hear. We really appreciate the invite.”

“No problem,” you nodded as you shut the door.

“Y/N!” Alanna rushed up to you not a moment later, looking mildly panicked. “Do you remember where you put the drinks? The alcoholic ones, I mean.”

Your eyes widened. “Fuck, I think I forgot to buy them.”

“...Now, your mother was going to nursing school at the time, so she had to…”

Jefferson’s deep voice carried over the music, catching Alanna’s attention. He stood near the tin of mac and cheese telling a story that–judging by the look on Miles’ face–he had told several times before.

That same smirk from before spread across her lips. ‘Do what you want’, sure, but a little helpful push wouldn’t hurt.

“Miles, do you wanna help out Y/N again? She forgot to go out and buy drinks.”

He perked up, relief written all over his face. “Yeah, it’s no problem! I’ll drive her.”

You narrowed your eyes at your sister, but didn’t push back. “That’s cool with me. I’ll go get my sweater.”

-

You squeezed your fingers nervously as Miles turned the key and brought the car roaring to life. 

What could you possibly say to him? ‘Hey, so we almost kissed earlier. Thoughts on that?’ 

“What kinda drinks y’all need?” his voice ripped you away from your thoughts as he pulled onto the road. 

You didn’t answer, your eyes fixated on the motion of his hands spinning the wheel.

“Y/N?”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

“What kind of drinks are we looking for?”

“Oh, um, wine and cider and shit,” you waved a hand in the air, “Stuff that goes with turkey.”

“Cool.”

The ride was quiet, largely because you were busy racking your brain trying to think of something–anything–to fill the silence with. You’d already asked about school, and you knew Miles’ parents. But what about him?

He stopped at a red light, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

“So what do you do, like, outside of school?”

You winced. Small talk was not your forte.

Miles didn’t seem to mind though, appearing deep in thought before he answered, “I draw, when I got the time. Sing a little on the side.”

“I believe you. You look like you have a nice voice.”

An impish smile played on his lips. “Is that your way of saying I’m cute?”

“I…” the words were trapped in your throat. Part of you didn’t want to tell him the truth outright, but he was smiling at you and the sparkle in his eyes made you feel funny. 

“Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So there’s a low, but non-zero chance.”

You snorted, “Alright, physics major. The light’s green.”

“Oh, shit. Thanks.” Miles focused his attention back onto the road and continued driving.

You didn’t say anything more for the remainder of the ride, but he caught you staring at him every now and then through the rear view mirror, curiosity written on your face.

Soon enough, he pulled over in front of the supermarket.

“Think you’ll find ‘stuff that goes with turkey’ in here?”

“I hope so,” you laughed, unbuckling your seat belt, “My sister’s gonna put me in the dirt if I don’t.”

“Well, good luck!”

Miles unlocked the door, and you set out on your mission.

Luckily, it only took you about twenty minutes to locate a bottle of moscato and some hard apple cider. Just as he saw you emerge from the double doors, though, a familiar buzzing in the back of his head tipped him off.

Really? On Thanksgiving?

A man wearing an inconspicuous black ski mask and hoodie stood waiting by the entrance, ready to strike. 

“Yo, empty your pocke–”

Miles swung into action the moment he spotted the gleam of a firearm.

You yelped as a string of white web shot out from seemingly nowhere and yanked the gun from your assailant’s hands. 

“It’s the holidays! C’mon, man!” 

“Spider-Man?” Your jaw dropped at the sight of the masked hero. 

He was perched on top of a low building right next to the supermarket, only his white eyes and the bright red streaks lining his suit visible in the pitch-black of night.

“At your service, ma’am!” 

With a quick salute, he was gone as suddenly as he’d appeared. Like, literally gone. You didn’t see him leave.

You let out a deep exhale and made your way back to Miles’ car, but you couldn’t see him in the window. A pit began to form in your stomach, until a voice made you jump.

“Hey, you alright?”

It was Miles, who had somehow appeared at your side without a sound. He was out of breath, leaning his elbow on the side of the vehicle for support.

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m…fine. Are you okay? Where’d you go?”

“Bathroom,” he lied. He pointed towards the bags you were holding. “Need help with those?”

You handed them over without a second thought. “Definitely. You know this nigga almost robbed me outside the store just now? Then, right as he’s about to pull a gun on me, guess who shows up?”

Miles grinned knowingly. “Spider-Man?”

“Showed up quick as hell! Even on Thanksgiving, can you imagine?”

“Crazy.”

He opened the door to the passenger’s side for you to get in. 

“Thanks.”

Miles did a slight bow, allowing you to catch a flash of red and black peeking out from beneath his jacket. You had assumed that he was wearing a turtleneck at first, but upon closer inspection–

“At your service,” he said with a grin before making his way over to the driver’s seat.

As you shut the door, Spider-Man’s voice returned to you.

At your service, ma’am.

The rest of the way home, you replayed both sentences in your head, alternating between the two and replaying the night’s events.

Miles had just so happened to reappear mere seconds after Spider-Man had said the words. They even shared an accent. You considered the absurd possibility for a moment; the police chief’s son being the masked vigilante would make quite the headline, almost poetic in its irony. 

Too poetic.

But just as you were about to let it go, Miles went over a speedbump, causing a jolt that made something begin to slip out from his jacket’s right pocket.

Black, red and white.

You pondered how to broach the subject once he pulled up in front of your house, when a lightbulb went off in your head.

Reaching over to the red button that released your seatbelt, you pressed it halfway, over and over again.

“Miles, I think my seatbelt’s stuck. Help me out?”

Miles removed his own with a click. “Sure, lemme see.”

He leaned over and reached the passenger’s seat with ease. His breath hit the side of your neck as he moved closer, making your heart rate quicken, but you maintained focus.

What mattered was that he was in close quarters. You had to see the suit.

“Got it,” Miles said once he released your not-actually-stuck seatbelt. “You’re free–”

Before he could move any further, you grabbed the collar of his jacket and unzipped it halfway.

“I knew it!”

The look of sheer terror on Miles’ face sealed the deal. Here was Spider-Man, in all of his glory.

“Are you…gonna…tell anyone?” 

His voice was hushed as he spoke. Almost small. You looked into those round, glassy eyes and felt a wave of guilt. 

“I–no, of course not,” you shook your head. “I just…I needed to be sure.”

He relaxed, some of the humor returning to his face. “And now that you’re sure?”

A cheeky grin spread across your lips.

“I guess I should thank you.”

You tugged at his collar one more time and brought his lips crashing against yours.

After getting over the initial surprise, Miles brought a hand up to caress one side of your face and deepen the kiss. Your other hand reached up and brushed the cold metal of one of his stud earrings before you snaked your arm around his neck.

Miles was the first to pull away, zipping his jacket back up.

“I don’t think I can stay in this position for that long,” he smiled. “We gotta get back inside with these drinks.”

You sighed, head still pounding with adrenaline. “You’re right, let’s get outta here.”

By the time you made it up the steps, Alanna was already holding the door open. She gave your face a good once-over and stifled a laugh.

“Did you two have fun on your little adventure?”

You took one of the bags from Miles and held it up like a trophy. “Yup, mission accomplished.”

“That’s not what I meant, baby,” she gestured towards her lips and mouthed “your lip gloss.”

Your eyes widened as she snickered, and let the two of you in. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll fix it in the bathroom. Hurry up!”

A few makeup wipes and a liner touch-up later, you emerged from the bathroom just in time for dinner.

Out of all the chairs strewn about the living room, you ended up seated between Miles and Jefferson. The former kept quiet, save for the occasional joke or wink thrown in your direction. Jefferson kept inquiring about your studies, which would then bounce back to Miles’ studies, which Miles then would somehow deflect back to you. Any and all conversation with Jeff became awkward, considering you had just made out with his son.

The party ending felt like a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

You stood at the entrance, waving goodbye to the steady stream of guests as their conversations stretched on, even from their cars. The Morales family were the last to leave.

After his parents went down the steps, Miles stopped in front of the door.

“Hey,” he smiled and tilted his head.

“Hey. You ready to go? I’m not letting you stay the night,” you teased.

“Wasn’t planning to, I promise. I just wanted to ask…” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “When are you goin’ back to campus?”

“Monday.”

Miles winced, “Damn.”

“I know, I literally gotta start packing to-night! It’s a nightmare!”

“In that case,” he took out his phone, and held it out to you gingerly. “Can we keep in touch?”

You accepted the offer, rapidly entering your digits and saving them under your name. “Worried about me spilling your secret identity?”

“Absolutely. I gotta keep an eye on you from now on. Like witness protection, but backwards–”

“Miles, vamos!” Rio called out from a distance.

“I’m coming, mami!” he replied before turning back to you. “See you winter break?”

You planted a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe. Non-zero chance.”

"I'll take it."

[artbychromo]

(little comic + 1.7K words, inspired by chatting about timezones + @swbookerr's fics uwu)

To be honest, Ace had partly forgotten about the Den Den Mushi. It sat on its own little table outside the Spade Pirates’ galley, and the thing hadn’t been touched since Shanks gifted it to him a few weeks ago. It also hadn’t rung yet, and Ace wasn’t certain what was appropriate grounds for calling the Red Force, anyway. 

Maybe it was only meant for emergencies? That had been Ace’s assumption. Meaning, he was startled when the thing first let out its odd, burbling call around dusk one day. He ducked out of the kitchen—he’d been helping Deuce and Skull prepare that evening’s supper, but now the two of them peered after Ace from the doorway.

Heart in his throat, he lifted the receiver. 

Sounds of chaos blared out from the little creature. Ace’s pulse raced even faster. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, until finally, the cacophony resolved itself into songs and shouts—and above that, a slurred, cheerful drawl. 

“Angel! Hello, angel? Are you there, gorgeous?” 

Ace’s nerves transformed into appalled heat, sensing the start of Deuce’s laughter from behind him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he managed. “Shanks, what’s going on?”

The other captain let out a meandering whoop. “I just missed you, baby! Wish I could see your smile so bad. How am I supposed to dance, when you’re not here in my arms-s-s-s—arm?” 

On his end, Ace wondered if the Den Den actually replicated the waft of alcohol, or if it was just his imagination. At least no one was in danger.

Shanks went on, “The boys here got me thinking about you—”

“More like,” a voice interjected, “he wouldn’t shut up about your ass.” 

Ace flushed, hearing Skull’s chuckles join Deuce’s. It only got worse when Shanks replied, “It’s a lovely ass, I’ll have you know.”

“I didn’t mean his literal ass, Captain, though I’m sure it’s wonderful—”

“It is! Abs-o-lute heaven!” 

“Shanks!” Ace yelled (cutting off the man’s claim of “To die for!”). Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Ace was chagrined to find Skull with a hand slapped over his mouth, trying to remain composed, while Deuce had fully given up on standing and was now doubled over against the galley wall. 

Before he dealt with them, Ace had to address the matter at hand. 

“Look, we’re a little busy here,” he said tightly. “Anything else you needed to say? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to talk to you later.”

After a moment without response save for some shuffling, Ace added a cautious, “That alright, old man?”

Finally, Shanks let out a dramatic sigh. “Stars, but I missed your voice.” The background noise from the other side grew muffled, as if he’d at last found a spot away from the hubbub of his crew. He went on, drawn-out and wistful: “I don’t mean to keep you, sweetheart. Just wanted you to know I was thinkin’ about you all day, and I’ll be dreamin’ about you all night.”

Ace cursed himself for flushing further. Turning away from the galley (and the growing sound of cackling), Ace mumbled, “You’re drunk as fuck, Shanks. …Don’t go falling overboard tonight, okay?” 

“In vino veritas, little flame,” Shanks said with dignity. Then, more groggily, “Or, in sake veritas?” 

Ace put his head in his hands, but couldn’t stop the wobbling, frantic smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Gods. Good luck with your hangover.” Then, in a rushed breath—because this whole situation was bizarre and new, and his heart was racing, but he was also so, strangely happy—Ace said, “Love you.”

Actually, this situation might be too bizarre and new: Shanks was taken off-guard. Ace heard a swift intake of breath, and then in a flood of boozy admiration, he swore, “Oh, baby, I’ll sail to you tonight! The boys’ll listen—I’ll follow the moonlight off the water, we can be together by dawn—what do you say, angel? We could spend all day together, having just the filthiest, crazed-animal se—”

Ace hung up.

—

Ace sagged against the doorway of his quarters. Even though most of his crew had retired for the day, he could feel his insomnia acting up like a jitter in his limbs. He probably wouldn’t land a good night’s sleep no matter what he tried. 

The issue wasn’t helped by his swirling thoughts. For the sake of restocking supplies, the Spade Pirates had docked in a town with some heavy anti-pirate sentiment. Somehow, the crew hadn’t been particularly bothered. Ace, on the other hand, was on edge the whole time, tensing up whenever he felt anyone’s eyes lingering on him too long.

There was no way anyone knew the truth about him. Even so, he couldn’t help superimposing faces from the rundown taverns of Goa onto those of the locals. Ace could feel the old, familiar unease simmering in his veins, like everyone had just finished hiding a sneer from him; like a knife was waiting to catch him unaware at any turn. 

But he was on his ship, now. Safe. Ace took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, yet the tension remained. A night like this one was better spent in the open air of the deck. He was just about to make his way out, when the Den Den Mushi reflected a hint of moonlight, catching his eye. 

After a moment of hesitation, Ace gathered the little thing in his arms, and took it with him to the bow of the ship. He stared contemplatively at where he’d set it on the rail. Since that first fiasco, he and Shanks had used the device a few times; their calls made it clear that he didn’t need to wait for some emergency. Still…

Watching starlight glint off the Den Den’s metal trim, he wondered what time it might be where Shanks was. The last time they’d talked, Shanks had been about half a day ahead of him. Who could say if they’d kept pace since then, though.

Stealing a glance at the crow’s nest—he was pretty sure Finamore was on shift tonight—Ace’s hand hovered over the receiver. His thoughts roiled. The tranquil rocking of the ship and the peaceful glow of the moon should have soothed him, but for some reason, they just made Ace more agitated.

He finally thought, Fuck it.

Ace waited, feeling suspended in time as the call went out. Then, he heard a click. 

“Mm… Hello?” 

Ace’s mind stalled. He was thrown off, watching the snail mimic a very sleepy Red-Haired Shanks. It was amusing at times to see the creature capture the other man’s expressions, but a little unsettling for this call; Ace directed his gaze out toward the ocean instead.

“Shanks?” he ventured. “Um. Morning?” 

There was a yawn. Then, “G’morning, little flame.” The cadence of Shanks’ voice was even slower than usual, syllables softly melding into each other. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?”

Ace’s mouth quirked, impressed at the immediate smooth-talking. He was also, undeniably, taken in by the calming lilt of Shanks’ words. Ace twisted and untwisted a ringlet of the Den Den Mushi’s cord. 

“It’s nothin’ important, just… checking in.” Ace was unable to keep himself from adding, “What time is it there? I can call back later.” 

He heard a gentle sigh. 

“It’s never too early for you,” Shanks said. “A bit ahead of when I usually wake, but…” he hummed, exceedingly smug. “It’s cute, how you just can’t wait to hear my voice. So precious, baby.” 

Ace rolled his eyes toward the starry sky. “Yeah, I’m hangin’ up.”

Shanks let out a laugh. “Wait, now, come on. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s just… been a long day.” After a few moments of curling the cord tighter, Ace asked, “Actually, could you talk about your day? What’ve you been up to?” 

A thoughtful hum came over the line, followed by a snort. “You should’ve seen the damn mess Yasopp got us into yesterday. There we were, perusing a market, when the man starts haggling…”

Ace sighed. It was nice, listening to Shanks describe the people he’d run into, the locales he and his crew had explored. Really, it would’ve been nicer to be there at his side for it all, but… the timing wasn’t right. Not yet.

Still, Ace could imagine it. He laid his head in his arms, and let Shanks’ voice carry him over the water.

Finally, as Shanks murmured about dishes they could try “just a few islands over,” Ace felt his eyelids drooping. He gave himself a small shake.

The nighttime breeze was cooler now, biting against his skin. Ace noted the hazy ache of tiredness beneath his eyes; the rhythmic lap of the ocean and its vast, ceaseless waves. Domed above him, the crispness of the stars only added to his sense of the world being yawningly immense. It would have left him unsettled… if not for the sound of Shanks’ steady breathing over the line: a tiny, precious tether in the dark. 

Ace cleared his throat. 

“Thanks, Shanks.”

His conversation partner snickered. “Good rhyme.” 

“Yeah.” Ace smiled. “I mean it, though. For this, and… everything you’ve done. For being you.”

Ace hesitated, stomach churning at his trite words. The night’s darkness helped mute his embarrassment, though; same as the blush on his cheeks. 

“It means a lot,” he finished, voice soft.

There was a brief, yet heavy silence after that, like Shanks was lingering in the pause between one breath and the next. Finally, he murmured, “We’re lucky bastards, aren’t we? I mean—” He waited a moment, so Ace could finish chuckling. 

Then he said, “I’m grateful too. To have found you.”

Ace blinked, staring out into the moonlit night. All he could offer was an agreeing hum. 

After lingering in the contented silence a moment longer, Shanks finally gave a soft laugh, and said, “Guess you should give sleep another go.” 

“Ugh. Yeah.” Ace wiped a hand down his face, but turned toward the Den Den Mushi with a smile. “Alright. Love you.” 

“Love you too, little flame. Goodnight, Ace.” 

He grinned. “Good morning, Shanks.” 

Shanks’ laugh was just crackling out when Ace replaced the receiver. He heard enough, however, to be flooded with warmth on the way back to his quarters; and as he laid in bed, easily welcoming sleep.

[giggly-squiggily]

For the sentence starter prompts, how about some RyuSae with “I’m gonna get you back”. ❤️❤️

Nah cause it’s the way I posted this and forgot to put my usual message- 💀💀💀 my bad! Anyway- AHH RYUSAE MY BELOVED!!!! I love them your honor! Anon, I’ve gotcha covered!

CW: suggestive humor

“Erk! Would you stop that!” Sae jerked forward when Shidou’s hands found his belly, lightly tracing the skin as he was pulling his jersey off. “I swear, I’m gonna get you back!”

“Hahah! You can most certainly try, Sae-Sae! Bring it on!”

That was days ago. Shidou really should know by now how his boyfriend worked.

“Die.” Hands dug into his ribs from behind, quick and nimble. Shidou sucked in a breath of surprise, but that was about it. “....The hell? Why aren’t you laughing?”

“Not ticklish there. Keep going, though- it feels good.” Shidou laughed when Sae pinched him, moving his hands up and down in search of a spot. “Oh, how I love having your hands all over my body, Sae-Sae~”

“Shut up. Don’t be gross.” Armpits were a bust, as were his hips and stomach. He even tried getting his legs, but all it did was make Shidou stretch his leg out encouragingly. “You really aren’t ticklish?”

“No, I am. You just haven’t found it yet.” Shidou grinned at him, turning around and pulling Sae into his arms. “I however know exactly where to go..”

“Back off, demon.” Sae glared, shoving him when those dastardly hands tried tickling his ribs. He took a moment to really look at Shidou, debating on where he’d be ticklish. His eyes lingered on his collarbones.

Without any warning, he reached out and poked at the base of Shidou’s neck.

“AH!” The taller boy yelped, jerking back at the touch. Sae’s brows raised to his hairline. “He-ehehehehe..thaht’s a gohohood gueehehss.”

“I don’t think it’s a guess.” Sae wasted no time as he grabbed Shidou’s arm, flipping him around and squirreling a hand against his collar. The demon player let out a whoop of laughter before collapsing to his knees, clinging to his boyfriend as he was tickled mercilessly. “Wow, you’re really ticklish here.”

“Ahehahhahaha! Cohohoohme ohohoh, dohoohohn’t behehehhee meehhehahahan!” Shidou pleaded through his mirth, face half-buried in Sae’s outer thigh as he curled up to the best of his abilities. “I cahhahan’t tahhahake it ahehahahahahaha!”

“I thought you liked it when I was mean?” Sae snorted to himself as he pulled his hand back, running it through Shidou’s spikes in a rare show of affection. “I’ll spare you today, but tickle me again and I’ll end your life.”

“Yohohou sahhay that lihihke you don’t lihihihke it.” Shidou grinned, screaming once more when those fingers attacked his neck.

“I changed my mind.” A red-cheeked Sae growled. “Die and don’t revive.”

Send me a sentence starter and I'll write a dabble for you! :D

[stayandot8]

Heart and Seoul

Genre: tooth-aching fluff

Relationship type: married nonidol!Chan x fem reader

Important Contents: thank you the request friend :) I immediately got an idea when you sent this to me and I'm sorry it took so long to write. I hope you like it.

request can be seen here.

WC: 1.8k

masterlist

Hubby: Guess what I got???

A picture arrived a second later of three plane tickets, all with the same destination: Seoul, South Korea. A flash of shock hit me and my fingers worked faster than my brain could process. 

“Isn’t it awesome?! My parents helped pay for them so don’t worry, I didn’t spend too much money. Well, not yet anyways. I’m going to buy a snow suit for Celeste because she’s never seen snow before and she’ll want to play in it because if she’s anything like me but that’s beside the point!” Chris was so excited and when he was excited, he rambled about everything and anything. A change that occurred after he became a dad, but a welcome one at that. Getting him to share his feelings wasn’t too too hard when I came along, but ever since his daughter was born, he was a babbling mess. A good change, really. After five years, he’d really mellowed out with her safety. She had too many clothes to begin with with the overexcitement of her arrival from her uncles, but now she was down to only a few new outfits a week, and now he at least acted like he was thinking about it when he changed his mind from a ‘no’ to a ‘yes’. He couldn’t deny his little girl anything. 

“Chris, she has snow clothes. Her grandmother bought some for her the last time we went to Korea in the winter just in case it snowed, which she’s still upset about.”

“I know, the weather app is stupid, they never know anything.”

“Chris! She has enough clothes! We’re going to have to give her our master closet if you keep buying her more things!” He was quiet to this, like he was actually thinking about the logistics of it. “Babe, she’s not getting our closet.”

“I know!”

“You were thinking about it though.”

“...Maybe. Then I was thinking about everything else I could buy her with all that room.”

“Chris…” I said warningly. 

“I’m done, I’m done. She’s not getting our closet.”

“Good.”

“But she is getting a snow suit. Okay, love you, bye!” I clutched my phone as he hung up, shaking my head and wondering where in the world he was going to put one more thing she didn’t need. It wasn’t like he was buying nonsense, it was just that he couldn’t tell her no if she really wanted something. He was a good dad like that. 

Me: Christmas with the uncles sounds good :) 

Hubby: Start packing. We leave in three days :) 

Me: Won’t mom be upset we won’t be in Sydney for the holiday?

Hubby: My mom will be fine, she’s used to holidays without me. 

Me: Don’t remind me 

Hubby: It’s yours we have to worry about. 

It was true, I was worried that my mother would be upset about a holiday without her grandchild. She loved them more than anything, cherished her truly. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt about it. 

Hubby: We’ll tell her together. We’re adults now, we can choose to spend the holidays wherever we like. 

Always reading my mind, my husband. 

The front door opened and shut, letting in the Sydney breeze along with it and a head of dark hair waltzed right in. Heading straight for the fridge, she reached for a small bag of apple slices just out of her reach. 

“Mommy!”

“Yes, baby, do you need some help?” I was already off my stool at the kitchen island and heading towards her. 

“Yes please!” She turned her shining eyes towards me, just as warm and comforting as her father’s. Her smile pushed her round cheeks upwards toward her eyes, just like his. Chan said she had my nose and he was more thankful for that than anything. He hated his nose. 

She was still reaching for the bag, knocking a bottle of water to the floor. “Whoops! I’ll get it Mommy.”

“Oh thank you Cece, that was very helpful of you.” She loved hearing these things, loved hearing how she helped someone. Anyone. More of her father’s features shining through, she just loved to help in any way she could. I opened the bag and handed it to her. “There you go, baby .Do you want to watch some TV before your grandmas and grandpas come over for dinner?” 

Once in a while, all the grandparents came over for dinner to spend time with the three of us. They wanted to see their Cece before all the holiday craziness came and they had to get busy with everything else that came with the holidays. 

With the house smelling like grilled meat and rice, the doorbell rang like chimes in the wind, a touch from Chris when we bought the house. Cece ran to the door, yelling “I got it, I got it!” She opened the door to both sets of grandparents flinging their arms wide open at the sight of her at the door, her red sparkly dress swinging as she lept for them. They hugged her, bags swinging from their arms as all four of them came around her. 

I was luckier than most with my in-laws. They had welcomed me with the most open of arms into their family and made me feel like a part of the family, like they had always been there just waiting for me. My parents got along with them, his mother bonding with mine over their love of plants and house decor. Our fathers got along with sports, the only issue ever being who was paying for the wedding (they both wanted to pay for it). They loved me and I loved them. I knew this situation wasn’t common, so I cherished it whenever they all came together. 

“Cece, are you going to let them come in?” I laughed while they hugged her, knowing they wouldn't let go until she did. 

“Oh, it’s fine, she’s fine.” Chris’s mom said while the others were putting their belongings in the hall closet. She picked up her favorite grandchild and held her until she arrived in the living room with all her toys neatly stacked. Celeste had a habit that she picked up from her father of finding joy in organization. It had to come from him because it definitely did not come from me.

As the other grandparents gathered around Cece on the floor, my dad followed me out the back door to find Chris hard at work grilling. They hugged and we watched Chris grill. 

“How’s the producing business, Chris?” Neither took their eyes off the meat.

“It’s good! Keeps me busy, but I get to meet celebrities so it has it’s perks. And the company is still good with letting me off for time with Cece. So I can’t complain.”

“That’s because you still work on your days off. I still haven’t been able to stop him.”

I sighed and gave Chan’s back a reproachful look. My dad chuckled. 

“Honey, you haven’t been able to stop him from working since you started dating. Remember Valentine’s Day a couple years ago?”

“Hey!” Chan finally turned around, mouth open in mock shock. “You said you were okay! You know how hard it was to get Tiger JK to actually sit down and work with me.”

“I do! And I’m still proud you managed to get it done in time.” I smiled and took his free hand that wasn’t holding a giant pair of tongs. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be a little salty that you had to miss our second Valentines together.” His eyes squinted. 

“And have I made it up to you every year since?” He cocked his eyebrow. 

“I need a beer! Anybody else?” My dad quickly jumped up to head back inside for said refreshment. I shot Chan a smirk. 

“Was that necessary?”

“Hey, he could’ve done the math. Cece was born in November.” I rolled my eyes. His tone suddenly got serious. “Do you want to tell them now or after we eat?”

“After. Let them enjoy their time with her now.”

*

“You what?!”

The plates were cleared, Cece was passed out on the couch watching her favorite show, and the news had just come out. My mother, ever the drama queen, was fanning herself from the news. My father was helping her, if only to save himself the pain of a scolding from her later. 

“Well, they’re adults now, honey. They can do what they like.”

“But they’re taking her for the holidays too, Richard. Did you think about that?”

“Yes I did. They’ll be fine, they’ll be back afterwards.”

“And besides,” Chan’s mom interjected. “You can spend it with us! We can get wine-drunk and celebrate Christmas ourselves without the kids.”

Chris grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. My mother just watched us smile at each other. 

“We miss Korea, mom. And Christmas is such a wonderful time of year, I just think this year we want to spend it differently. We’ll pick you up some of your favorite face cream while we’re there, too.”

“So the trip won’t be a total waste for you!” Chris tried to placate her, but her face remained unchanged. “Alright Mom, what about this: when we get back, you guys can have Celeste for a whole weekend, just her and you.” She perked up at that.

“Friday to Monday?”

“You can even bring her back Monday night.” Chris, ever the diplomat. A rush of pride went through me. My mom thought about it for a moment. 

“Deal.” 

Chris’s dad piped in.

“What about us?!”

*

Celeste did really well for her first plane ride. We arrived at the Incheon Airport around noon, but we didn’t know what awaited us outside until we stepped outside to our car waiting to take us to our hotel. Driven by Hyunjin with a passenger seat occupied by Felix, they waved us over before climbing out of the car to fling their arms open for Celeste, who stopped halfway to them, noticing the white fluff all around. 

“Daddy, what’s that?” she asked, her voice dripping in wonder. Her eyes shining with pure curiosity, she ignored her uncle’s waiting arms to hold her arms out to catch the falling flakes. They disappeared as quickly as they had landed in her hand, but that didn’t stop her from trying to catch all of the snowflakes in her immediate vicinity. She jumped and reached, trying to reach the clouds they were falling from. This insanely cute action was met with laughter from all angles, and before she knew it, she was hoisted into the air by her uncle to get a closer look. 

Chris and I stood by and let them catch up and enjoy the cold.

“She’s so cute. She takes after you, you know.” I placed a hand on my stomach. 

“I dunno. Maybe this one will be just as cute.”

[thisfanisgonesorry]

handcuffed - jim hopper

you REALLY dont wanna get arrested right now.

cw/tags: DUBCON. DUBCON FOR DAYS. uhh, very bdsm-y, obvious power dynamics, degradation kink, handcuffs, obviously. timeline debatable, age difference but thats what makes it hot!, he spits in y/ns mouth. cums in her panties if thats a kink? what would i call that? y/n is canonically a bit of a slut but thats okay! mutual pining if u squint.. maybe enough lore for multiple parts. hopper is lowkey a prick whoop whoop.

havent posted in a while but i wrote this (shitty) gem from a few weeks ago.

<3

Surely, this would be a good day. Surely.

Well, that is what I was thinking before I was sprinting down the road, trying my best to avoid the cops. Needless to say, now I’m restrained by an all-too-familiar chief of police and he’s hauling ass to his cop car, which would now be 50 or so feet from where I’m currently standing.

I’m trying to break free so I can sprint in another direction and pray to god it works. Maybe into the woods, break line of sight. We’re by the backroads, so there’s not a lot of people, though maybe losing face in a crowd would be what I need.

I seemed to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was near Billy’s shithole of a house, just when the cops showed up, and of course, they had to assume I was to blame. Now, at a worse place at a worse time, I’m harshly pressed into the hood of Jim’s car, and he’s struggling to keep my arms in place to put them into a pair of handcuffs. His body is tightly holding me into place, but god damn, I am not getting arrested right now.

“Let me go, Hopper!” I shout, trying to pull my arms out of his grip so I can use them to push him off. I try to move any of my limbs in any direction as an attempt to get him off me.

“Stop struggling.” He says, as he meets my face, feeling the stubble of his moustache brush my ear. I freeze for a moment; before continuing anyway.

“I wasn’t even at that stupid Hargrove’s house! You already arrested all of the assholes there, why are you harassing me!”

He lets out a few grunt, and then I hear a click and feel cold metal around my wrists, so I struggle more as he tries to stand us both up, still pressed against him as he tries to not let me escape him.

“Get the fuck off me, Jim.”

“Watch it.” He breathes out, “You’re about to get us both into somethin’ you don’t wanna get into.”

“I don’t wanna get arrested by some pig! Not over some shit I didn’t do!”

He finally brought some distance between us as he turned me around, looking at me face to face, though still trying to keep me in place with a hand firmly on my shoulder. I was trying to analyse the situation, there was one, semi-large, semi-hard, glaring problem.

Maybe all that struggling was not the wisest idea I could’ve had.

“Are you hard right now?” I said, with a bitter taste on my tongue, deciding to get rid of that taste by spitting right in his face.

“I told you to stop struggling.” He said through gritted teeth as he wiped the saliva with the back of his hand. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He gestured towards the backseat.

“What? This, or you?”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/n.”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m telling the truth this time, promise!” He began to shove me, before I tried to intervene once again, desperation levels rising to a shameful amount. “Hey! Hey! Maybe we can work something out!”

“I’m taking you in and if you don’t stop talking, I’ll find some way to shut you up.” He seemed unphased despite the half-mast tent in his pants. He glared at me, speaking sternly. “And don’t fucking spit at me again.”

“I’m not friends with Billy, I’m sober as a judge here, Hop!” I furrowed my eyebrows, “Plus, it’s not like you can walk into the station with a boner, can you? Or are you willing to bet it’ll go away by then?”

“You’re right. I can’t. I know what you’re implying, I also can’t..” He hesitated for a moment. “..Act on it with someone under my custody.”

He could sense the sardonic attitude behind my voice. “Why not?”

“Don’t play that game with me.” He said, pushing me again towards the backseat, though I crashed into the side-mirror of his car, letting out a moan of pain which made him, and his buddy, a bit more rash.

“Help me, help you?” I said with a fake grin, trying to push his buttons, either as a tease or a genuine way to get into his pants. “C’mon, what d’ya got to lose?”

“My job.”

“I won’t tell no one. C’mon, I’ll help you out and you can think about letting innocent ol’ me go, how’s that?”

Is it bad that through the numerous times Chief Hopper has thrown me in jail, I’ve always thought, ‘might as well go out with a bang, right?’, he’d been on my ass for years, either for underage drinking or hanging around pot, he’d find some way to get me in handcuffs. I was old enough to do both of those now, and for once, I was completely innocent.

“If you’re so innocent, why’d you run?”

“Look, I was just at the wrong place, wrong time. I saw sirens comin’ at me, what d’ya think I’m gonna do?” I could feel the tension; sexual or not, it was thick in the air. He was clearly sexually frustrated, and look at him, of course he would be. Sure, he was hot, but it’s not like the chief of police gets many weekends.

“I’ve heard you use that excuse before.”

“I’m telling the truth here! What have I got to lose? You’re hard and I’d fuck you to get out this time. I’m not sitting in a drunk tank with Billy!”

“Why’d you run?”

“Fine! I got pot on me! But it’s not from Billy!”

“Where?” He said sternly, trying to pull it off me. I didn’t want to admit it was in my bra, so I tried to avoid eye contact. “Where.” He repeated, louder.

“It’s in my bra..” I said, still avoiding eye contact. He looked at the buttons to my white and green shirt, deciding if he should or not. I rolled my eyes at him, almost to urge him to just hurry up and get on with it.

He quickly began unbuttoning the shirt, it was probably not his best choice, but once it was unbuttoned, he tugged it out of my jeans and tried to push it as best he could off my torso. He took in the view for a moment, but only a moment.

“Where?”

“Left side.” He raised his large hands to put his hand on my right; “MY left.”

Granted, I hadn’t exactly prepared for this moment, so my bra was an off-skin tone, and wasn’t exactly ‘sexy’. He put his hand in the cup of my bra, feeling it for a moment, his fingers grazing my nipple, before he pulled his hand away, with a small baggie of mix in his hands.

“Look, I wasn’t actually doing anything wrong, okay?.. I’ll do anything, I just.. Please don’t bust me for this.”

He looked at the bag, and he exhaled sharply, you could see the cogs turning in his brain, like clockwork, deciding. Weighing his options, even.

“Anything?” He spoke almost silently.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He said, “I’m serious.”

I hesitated for a moment, before simply nodding, and he let out a shaky sigh before grabbing my face, he was still rightfully so, very angry at me, so he firmly pried my mouth open.

“Swallow it.” He spoke sternly before spitting in my mouth.

I swallowed it immediately, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

It took me by surprise how quick the tables had turnt, and his breath shook, and he quickly opened the backseat door, pushing me towards it, though I still stood upright. He had full control, so it seems he wasn’t just going to bend me over and fuck me. At least, not right away.

He pressed his mouth on mine, one hand holding me in place by the waist and the other holding onto the roof of the car. Slowly, he moved his hands down, playing with my belt until he could tug down my jeans so they rested around my knees.

“Hop, c’mon.” I breathed, pulling away though his mouth chased mine slightly. He peaked down, eyeing white panties with a small bow on the elastic.

He pulled away fully, then fiddled with the belt of his own pants, before unbuttoning them and leaving it open like that. I tried to open my legs for him though I was restricted, he pressed our clothed crotches together, a sigh escaping him as he did.

“Can you.. unbutton your shirt?” I asked, a little more timid than I would’ve liked. He gave a short nod, before unbuttoning his shirt so I had a decent view. He was fit, though obviously rockin’ a bit of a dad bod. A good amount of hair and honestly, I could be mad about the last screw I might have for a while, yet I’m not.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Please.” I responded softly, leaning towards him though he simply pulled away. He seemed proud of himself, devolving me into almost begging for it, yet also unsatisfied. “Sir? Please?”

“You’re so smart, such a fast learner.” He said, though it somehow sounded like he was degrading me, and yet, it was driving me crazy.

“I.. I want to touch you.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“C’mon, Hop. Don’t tease me.” I pleaded with him, and it must’ve worked.

Almost like a switch went off; it was quick, but not harsh, he turned me around and bent me over the back seat.

“Beg for it.”

“I’m not begging for it.”

He took a fist of my hair and pushed my face into the seat, speaking sternly. “Don’t act like you’re not a slut. I’ve heard the stories. Beg.”

“Shit, please.” He pushed my face further; “Please, sir, please!”

“For such a fast learner, you’d think you’d know how to keep out of trouble.” He said, alongside rustling of fabric, I assume pulling your pants down with only one hand isn’t easy. “Last time. Were you at Hargroves or not?”

This was probably the most evil form of interrogation.

“No! I swear it, I hate his guts; him, and his shitty weed. What do I gain from lying to you right now!”

“You do whatever you can to get your kicks out of me. I know you get around. The amount of drunk-tank ramblings about the vixen behaviour you get up to, who knows, this is just another way to fuck with me.”

“Tough talk coming from you.”

“Quit acting like a brat.” He snarled, “You want this, you need this.”

“I don’t.” I lied, and he could tell.

“So if I just pulled up my pants and undid those handcuffs, you wouldn’t kneel and beg about how you need me? I see how you look at me.”

Shit. He played into exactly what I meant and he’s still got me caught.

“No, I mean, yes, I dunno!” I cried with urgency.

“Say you don’t want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me, Jim, please.”

“Exactly. Look how wet you are.”

He pulled down my panties, soaked beyond any chance of denial, or even dignity I could possibly have left. He shakily breathed, lining himself up to my entrance to only grind against the slickness, teasing.

“Jim, please, I’ll be good, please. I’ll stop getting into trouble, just—”

Almost like a heaven-sent miracle, he began slowly pushing himself deeper, one hand the chain of the handcuffs, and the other still tightly in my hair.

“Oh, shit.” He groaned, bottoming out in a smooth movement.

He began at a slow pace, just to feel the way he felt as he moved. It wasn’t fast enough to build any pleasure.

“Faster, my god.” The pace was agonisingly slow.

“I bet you like it rough, huh?” His grip on my hair tightened, almost stinging.

“Shut up—”

“The rumours are right, aren’t they?” He grunted.

“No, ‘m a good girl.” I panted, “I’ll be your good girl.”

“Are you? How long have you wanted to fuck me?”

“If I tell you, will you fuck me like you mean it?” I pleaded, “C’mon, fuck me real hard, please — I’m good for it.”

He rolled his eyes and began thrusting, the sound of wet slapping sound quietly echoing through the woods.

“You really are just a slut, look at you.” He laughed, letting go of my hair and reaching around and grabbing my throat, pulling me upright. “Answer my question.”

“So long, Jim, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re such a little bitch? Why you’re on my nerves all. the. fucking. time?”

“Yeah, ‘m sorry, please.”

“Stop getting into so much fucking trouble.” He cursed, finally letting go of the loose chokehold and grabbing both hips to fuck into me harder, though completely stopping instead.. “All this so I’ll fuck you? Huh?”

“Yes! I’m better than the other dumb whores you fuck, god, shit.”

“Yeah? You want me all to yourself? Say it.”

“I want you, now fucking move!”

He began thrusting again, I went limp and slumped over, he was groaning and only now beginning to lose his composure. I was drooling over the carseat, my eyes were rolling back into my skull, all over some stupid cop with an amazing dick.

“Y’re so nice aren’t you, you’re so good, you’re gonna let me cum right? ‘m your good girl, please, touch my clit, ‘m so close, please, you’ll let me—”

“Look at you, so needy.” He panted, reaching down to toy with my clit. “God, I’m so close, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please!” I began chanting as I unwound on him, “Oh, fuck, I’m—”

I clenched around him and felt the rush of the orgasm hit me like a wave, he shuddered and kept fucking into me until my orgasm rode out.

“Feels so good, y’so good..” I mumbled tiredly, feeling him pull his still-hard cock out. “What? What are you doing?”

“I’m not cumming inside you.” He said, stroking his cock to completion.

“Please. Want your cum, please.” I mumbled into the carseat.

“Fine, I’m gonna..” He groaned in annoyance though it could also pass as pleasure.

“Thank you, sir.”

He kept jerking himself off, “Ugh, Y/n, fuck, I’m—” He grunted as he came on the panties still bunched around my knees.

“Can you.. help me.. get dressed?” I mumbled. He sighed, pulling up my panties and jeans before rolling me over to do up the button and zip. “I can feel your cum, s’warm.”

“Yeah. It is.” He sighed, buttoning up the tshirt and scooting me into the car fully.

He got into the driver’s seat and began turning on the car, talking into his walkie talkie about something or other. “Are you goin’ to take me home?”

“No, Y/n. I have to take you to the station for the pot.”

I groaned tiredly. “Oh, fuck off, Hopper.”

[tamamatango]

My Project Revealed: The Fabled Fanfiction Come to Fruition

Crossing an item off the bucket list before the dopamine gods give out on me. (Yes that’s the story link in case you want to just go there and skip the whole me not shutting up part)

Back in my most active period in the Keroro fandom, I tried and failed multiple times to write a fanfic; might’ve even talked about it here at some point. But for one reason or another, it just never panned out, and I ultimately fell out of it for a few years before I managed to publish anything. However, I got back into the practice with my next hyperfixation, so now that I’ve returned to frog hell again, I knew I had to do what teenage me could not.

I can’t say this is “the fanfic I always wanted to write,” because I ended up scrapping whatever I had started all those years ago. When this started to come together in my head, it initially seemed way too ambitious given the limited time I have and where my strengths and weaknesses lie as a writer…but I got possessed by the artsy demon or something and started to write it anyway. Whoops.

To Chase a Butterfly asks one simple question: What if Kururu actually failed to save Saburo at the end of episode 229? Okay that’s not really a simple question, considering it leads to a whole emotional and physical journey about grief and companionship and space-timey shenanigans. But basically, Kururu goes “bet” and attempts to bring him back to life. Naturally, the deuteragonist of such a story is…Dororo? Yes, at the central conflict of the story is Kururu’s friendship with Saburo, but it’s Dororo who serves as his confidant/partner in crime over the course of the story, and so I consider this to double as a KuruDoro fic as well—though I will make it clear now that it’s not conclusively romantic, so you can decide if that’s the direction they go in or if it stays platonic, and it works either way.

As of the latest update from. Uh. 15 minutes ago at the time of writing, the fic currently sits at about 60-65% completion and is divided into two parts. Part 1 (chapters 1–6) is the angst/drama-heavy half, which I uploaded in full as a batch drop. Part 2 (7+) is more action/adventure, sort of in the vein of what you’d expect from one of the Keroro movies, and I am updating it chapter-by-chapter, since it was getting too unsustainable to try to dump it all at once. AO3 has the most robust features, so that’s where it’s hosted for now, but I know people have very understandable problems with that site, so I’ll consider porting it elsewhere if that’s something anyone is interested in.

Well, that’s enough yammering from me. If you like the idea, please do check it out. Things are starting to heat up as the climax approaches, especially with the introduction of a surprise third major character who very longtime Kirb fans miiiight faintly recall. And if you’re already following it—it’s been up for a while now, just waited to discuss it here to temporarily save myself from potential embarrassment—thanks for your support, and I hope you look forward to the rest! Part 2 is very research/planning heavy and has been pretty challenging to write so far, but I intend to see this all the way through damn it. And yeah, this is what’s been pulling my focus away from the blog, but there will still be posts here whenever I feel like putting energy into an essay and/or next real info drop about the new anime (BNP gimme something soon please I’m parched).