#i plan to do more and maybe make a nice print?

[okcassin]

teehee naruto and mudkip

[cheswirls]

this yr of studio art classes was so funny bc in the fall it was an entire semester of intensive painting/pixel art for nature landscapes and in the spring i took all of that and did jack shit. didn't improve a damn thing. what do you mean learn to draw buildings and objects and inanimate things no????? if its not alive i don't wanna < said someone who did the most zoomed-in illustrations in the middle of cityscapes as physically possible to avoid drawing roads/windows/towers/streetlights/etc

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warnings: clown fucking lol

The amusement park on the mountain had once been the most popular attraction in your town. Everyone visited for whatever special occasion they could, spending tons of money on merchandise and tickets.

What made it so appealing to the public? Everyone’s answer was always…

Silly the Clown!

He was taller than any person you’d ever meet, always nicely dressed and wearing close make up. When he walked through the park, everyone would stop what they were doing to line up and watch his act.

Not only was he hilarious, he was also quite handsome, according to the men and women that traveled to see him.

He was shrouded in mystery. No one ever saw him without his makeup on around town or even leave the park. People would wait in hiding, trying to catch a glimpse of Silly’s real appearance.

But one day, the amusement park shut down. Rumors spread quickly through the small town, some saying there were loans gone wrong or even murder.

No one really knew why their beloved amusement park was no more, and Silly was never seen again.

That was… until you showed up.

You had been a huge fan of the amusement park as a kid, but never got to attend until your 18th birthday. Now, all these years later, you were back on your 25th, planning to celebrate by doing some urban exploring and maybe take home a souvenir.

The park wasn’t as run down as you had first expected. Although none of the rides seemed to be in order, they looked to be maintained. None of the grass was overgrown, the walls were free of graffiti, and the ground was clean, no litter or dead leaves.

It was as if the park was simply closed for the day, not abandoned completely.

As you wandered the grounds, you kept turning to see if someone was behind you. You felt eyes on you the entire time, making you think perhaps there were cameras or security guards still on the premises to prevent vandalism and theft.

What you didn’t know was that you were being followed and carefully monitored. Every step you took was being tracked, every little thing you did was observed by the pair of eyes watching you,

Though… for a moment the observer’s gaze moved over your body, lingering on… certain parts. It had been so long since someone had come to visit, and even longer since it had even thought about its… urges.

And you were such a pretty thing.

It was getting dark, meaning you should get back to your car soon… but as the sun went down, you nearly fell over in fright when the amusement park sparked to life.

Lights lit up, rides began to move, and you could smell popcorn and hotdogs being cooked near the food stalls.

“I’ve gotta be hallucinating…”

“You’re not.”

You froze in your tracks, the hair on the back of your end standing up straight. That voice…

“S-Silly?”

He appeared in front of you, a red painted smile spreading across his face. “Silly the clown, that’s me! You’re back!”

It took you nearly an entire minute to process that the man in front of you was really Silly the clown, someone that hadn’t been seen in years!

“W… what do you mean?”

His fingertips traced down your side, stopping at your hip. “I know the face of everyone who’s entered this park. And now you’re back…”

His thumb rubbed against your hip, playing with the fabric of your bottoms. “Why don’t you enjoy the park for a bit? I turned everything on just for you…”

And you did, hesitantly going up to the first ride.

He watched you go, his pants tightening. God, how long had it been since he’d felt the warmth of a woman?

Silly was cursed. He couldn’t leave the park, his very soul was tied to it. It stayed the same as it did the day it was abandoned, and he waited for someone to come back.

Why had people stopped coming? Not even the newspaper was allowed to print what happened.

A kid went missing near the park, and Silly had seen what happened. Someone impersonated him, luring the child away. He couldn’t do a single thing, not able to break character and leave to save the child.

It made Silly depressed, and he stopped allowing people to visit. Silly and the park were one being, if he was depressed, it would deteriorate.

But when he saw your car pull up, the rusted gates and old buildings became brand new, almost as if the park was perking up to impress you.

After going on several rides without waiting in lines and feasting on corn dogs, funnel cake, and lemonade, you let out a happy sigh.

“Having fun?”

You jumped slightly, relaxing when Silly came into view.

“Yeah… it’s been a long time since I’ve been to an amusement park. It’s been nice.”

He watched you, his eyes focusing on your soft tummy and fat tits. Never before had he taken such interest in a female.

He didn’t know much about what he was or how he came into existence, much less the nature of his urges, but he did know that he had needs…

And you did too.

Silly was attractive in a strange way. It was hard to describe his features, but something about him made you… horny. Maybe it was how tall he was, maybe it was the way he talked…

Before you knew it, you were being led away by the hand. You didn’t complain or try to escape his grip, in fact you were both curious and aroused. Where was he leading you?

Was it bad that being all alone with that clown in an abandoned park, having no idea where he was taking you made you horny?

Silly was struggling to keep himself together.

You were pulled into a tent, something slippery and slimy slipping between your legs as you were bent over. All you had to hold on to was a tent pole as silly grabbed your fat hips.

“God…” he murmured, his tentacle like cock slithering past your panties and rubbing against your glistening clit. “Need this…”

Without much warning he pushed in, groaning at how tight you were. It felt so strange, feeling him wriggle and writhe inside of your cunt.

The second he felt you clench around him he groaned, his body leaning into yours as he nibbled at your ear.

“So wet… pretty little thing, don’t you wanna just stay here forever? I’ll let you have the best day forever if I get to fuck into this pussy at the end of every night…”

His clown makeup dripped onto your shoulder, making you look back. Your vision was already a bit blurry from the pleasured tears falling from your eyes, but you swore you saw a strange creature behind you…

He forced you to look away, cooing softly. “Shh, don’t look, princess… I don’t want my pretty little thing going insane.”

His cum spurted inside of you, and you felt uncomfortable stretch when his cock began to go crazy, wiggling and squirming as if trying to burrow inside of you as deep as it could.

A soft growl left his throat as he settled down from his high, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

“Good girl… let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

Want more? My commissions are open, or you can become a Kofi member!

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[bamsara]

Hi!

I'm sorry if you already answer this question, but I wanted to know if you plan to ship your keychains (but not only) in Europe? I really like your work (both as artist and author) but I know shipping & taxes can be rough and complicated.

Have a nice day!

I can certainly try, but shipping packages internationally, even small parcels can cost anywhere between $20-$35 in the US to depending on where you are in the world. It's possible but it would kinda null if the shipping costs are more than what the actual keychains are priced for. Maybe not for an order with multiple items, but a single keychain or print wouldn't be worth it.

I'll see what I can do to make the option available. If anyone has any tips or advice, it would be appreciated!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Let Your Heart Be Light

Prompt Day 17: Lights | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Pre-Steddie, Steve & Wayne, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Everybody Working Together

"What in tarnation?" 

Steve nearly falls off the roof of the trailer, but somehow finds purchase and hangs on for dear life, barely escaping toppling over the edge. His heart is pounding in his chest. He really thought he'd be able to do this without being caught.

But no, Wayne is standing there looking up at him.

"Christmas lights!" Steve hollers, as if that isn't blatantly obvious. 

"Figured that on my own, kid," Wayne drawls, and then takes a drag off of his cigarette. 

"Sorry," Steve says, holding onto the strand of lights, not wanting them, or himself, to fall. "Do you want me to take them down? I just wanted to surprise him when he comes home."

Wayne shakes his head, and Steve doesn't really know how to interpret that. No, don't take them down, or no don't stop? Wayne starts climbing the ladder, which wasn't even among the options Steve envisioned being possible. 

Eddie hasn't even been here before. He went from the hospital, straight to a rehab facility that Steve raised holy hell about until the government paid for it.

They created this mess, and Steve wasn't about to let them get by with their obvious plan to just let Eddie just suffer, barely slapped back together. He may never be good as new, but Steve was bound and determined to get him as close as possible. 

And it's been months. It's not quite Christmastime yet, but Steve thought this might be a nice sight when Eddie finally gets home.

Wayne leans against the trailer, and points a finger, "You'll need to secure those a little bit better, or the wind will get 'em faster than you can put 'em up."

Steve just nods like he totally understands what he's being told.  

He's not exactly sure how he'll secure them to metal any better than he already has without doing permanent damage, which he was obviously trying to avoid.

"Hang on, I think I still got the clips I used when Eddie was little. Out in the shed, maybe. I don't know where anything is these days after the move," Wayne mutters, like Steve should know about the clips, or where they might be. 

But Wayne disappears down the ladder, and it takes a long, long time, but he finally comes back with clips that he'd obviously made himself at some point in the past.

They're magnetic. 

Gutters aren't magnetic, and Steve learned that the hard way when he dropped the first one, but Wayne slides a washer inside the gutter, and like magic – magnetic.

And that's kind of brilliant.

"Did you make these?" Steve asks, holding it in his hand, looking at the magnet that's glued on the back.

"Yup," Wayne says with a nod, snapping the magnet in place, then running the strand of lights into the clip. It's perfect. "Old trailer didn't have guttering, but it had eaves."

Steve doesn't know what that means, but he nods.

And they work together, outlining the whole trailer, one clip at a time. It's relatively painless.

"You should sell these," Steve says, "like, the hardware store should stock them right next to the Christmas lights."

Wayne chuckles. 

Steve's serious.

"I'd help," Steve says, and Wayne laughs some more.

But Steve would, he really would. 

It's getting dark, and Wayne plugs the lights in. They look great. They'll be better when it's fully dark, even.

"Thanks for helping, kid," Wayne says, and it's not until Steve is pulling away that he realizes that Wayne made it seem like he'd done him a favor, and not the other way around.

"Well, look at that," Eddie says as Steve holds open his car door. He smiles up at the lights, and mission accomplished.

Several days later, Eddie's on the couch while they all bustle around the trailer.

Dustin is folding over the printed cardstock toppers. Smoothing the crease with a butter knife.

"Will drew this logo," Dustin says, and Steve knows that. They all know that. 

It's an assembly line they've got going after making more clips. Wayne only intervened once he realized they were trying to use a hot glue gun and not the J-B Weld he'd used. 

Once he'd straightened them out, showing them how to make them correctly, they got to work. Now, they're packaging them up. Counting them out and putting them into clear bags, then stapling the cardstock label to the top. 

They look good. 

The hardware store, Melvald's and the Big Buy all agreed to carry them. 

Nancy was persuasive, and didn't mention that they were designed by Wayne Munson. She'd just insisted they were invented and made locally, which they are, and that was that.

Steve hopes half the town buys a few sets to put up their holiday lights, and in the process, helps Wayne and Eddie recoup at least a fraction of what was taken from them after half the town lost their fucking minds, trying to pin everything evil that's ever happened in this hellhole on Eddie's shoulders.

"How many do we have?" Nancy asks, notebook and pen in hand. 

"Two hundred and fifty sets," Robin answers.

Maybe this will work, but if it doesn't, well, they tried. He bought the materials. Wayne insists he'll get his investment back, plus a cut. Steve's not interested in that, but agreed, just so Wayne would let them proceed.

Dustin did the math, and yeah, the mark-up is pretty great, without making them too expensive. 

Nancy already made Ted use them on their house, and she swears he's been telling his friends how easy they went up, no more staples ruining his shingles.

Steve himself lined the entirety of his own house with lights, and sold his neighbors on the clips after they saw the finished product. It really does look great. His dad never hung lights, never had the time, but the house finally looks like a home with them up there, Steve thinks.

It's crazy, but this scheme just might work.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 💡

Notes: Looks like a least one type Christmas light clips were patented in 2002, so Wayne really could have been cutting edge. Never, ever underestimate redneck engineering and ingenuity. I can remember the heavy duty staple guns coming out to hang lights, so if there were clips, they must not have been widespread. (I love a good research rabbit hole, but this seemed like a goofy place to spend any real time digging, haha.)

[lilacmingi]

CRUELLA DE VIL (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Cruella!San x boutique owner!fem reader (ft business partner!Hongjoong)

Word count: 6,745

Note: Okay this one might be my fave out of the whole series!! So many people loved it on Wattpad and I personally am really proud of this one to this day!!

The new window display looked incredible. You had stayed after closing the previous night to put it up in hopes that it would attract some new customers. Not just that, but you wanted to show off the jacket you worked so hard to reform.

You went in to make a few minor adjustments before opening for the day. As you were straightening up the outfit on the mannequin, your coworker and business partner, Hongjoong, walked in adjusting his beret.

Today's ensemble consisted of a white t-shirt with safety pins all over it, thick, black suspenders clipped onto a pair of black pants with a partial red, plaid pleated skirt attached to it—he's always dressing in the most wonderfully unique outfits.

"Morning." You greeted, stepping out of the window display. "You're looking fashionable, as usual."

"Thank you." He grinned, doing a little spin so you could see a full 360 view of the outfit. "I'm experimenting with something different."

"You mean the skirt attached to the pants?"

"Yeah. I think it looks cool, don't you?"

"Yes! I love it. We might be able to sell something like that, hm?" You grinned, raising a brow.

"If the people want it, I'll be more than happy to make more." He said. "Oh, here's your coffee, by the way."

"Ah." You placed your hand on your chest. "You're a doll. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nodded, heading to the back.

Seconds later, music started playing through the speakers in the store, your lips curling into a pleased smile.

You and Hongjoong shared a similar music taste and you'd both curated the perfect playlist for the store. It's a mix of alternative rock, indie, and a touch of classic rock and indie pop—which was fit for your motley boutique.

The two of you had been friends since college. You both majored in business and shared a love for reforming clothes. It wasn't long until you started making plans for a business. You made a deal to go in together, save the money, and start up your own boutique, and as of one year ago, you did. It was a brilliant idea that blossomed into what it is today.

Yours and Hongjoong's business is located

in one of the fashion capitals of the world—London. You both specialize in thrifting and reforming. The two of you check out local thrift shops and buy pieces to cut up and put back together to make something unique. You can't find clothes like yours and Hongjoong's anywhere else.

"So, I stopped at a couple secondhand shops on my way here. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't. What did you find? Anything good?"

"Well, I found this scarf." He spoke, pulling the accessory from a shopping bag. "The print is unique. I thought maybe we could cut up uneven chunks of the fabric and sew them on a jacket or something."

"Ooh." You nodded, envisioning the piece. "I like that. What else?"

"These dainty little chains and these boots."

"Let me guess. Attach the chains to the boots to make them edgy?" You guessed.

"Yes! This is why we're business partners." He grinned. "I'm gonna go put this stuff in the back with the other pieces."

You hummed in acknowledgement and took a sip of coffee, the sweet taste coating your tastebuds, a slightly bitter aftertaste following.

"Please help get me through the day." You spoke to the beverage as you plopped down behind the register.

Hongjoong emerged from the back room, smoothing out his shirt.

"That window display looks nice."

"Thank you. I did stay late last night to get it set up." You grinned, proudly. "I hope it attracts some new customers."

"It will. It looks fantastic. No other storefronts look like ours." Hongjoong assured you, his eyes trailing off to the dog bed behind the counter, your pet Dalmatian curled up asleep inside.

"I didn't even know Valentino was here." He commented.

"Yeah. He's tired today. He's been sleeping ever since I got here."

"Hey. If that window display doesn't attract new customers, Valentino will."

"Yeah, he's a favorite among our usual customers."

"Speaking of customers." Hongjoong pointed towards the front entrance.

Someone was standing outside in front of the display window, you couldn't see them too well from where you were sitting, though.

"I'm gonna go work on those boots. Just call me if you need me."

"Sure." You nodded, watching Hongjoong disappear behind the beaded curtain separating the front of the store from the back.

You stayed sitting behind the register, assuming the person outside was just perusing and most likely wouldn't come inside.

Just then, the door to the boutique opened, catching your attention. You turned your head and watched as a man with unique half black and half white hair strode into the store. He wore pinstripe pants and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, a tight corset cinched around his waist. On top of the entire ensemble was a cream-colored fur coat draped over his shoulders. His entire appearance practically screamed high fashion and you were left speechless as you stared at this incredibly well-dressed man.

"What's that in the display window?" He asked, pointing with his cane.

"A jacket."

"I know what it is. I'm not stupid. I want to know who made it."

"I did." You answered.

"It's wonderful."

"Thank you." You were surprised to hear this man's praise. "Would you like to see it up close?"

"What kind of question is that?"

You stepped onto the platform in the display window and removed the jacket, bringing it to your new and eccentric customer.

He held it up, examining it, running his gloved fingers over the embellishments on it.

When you first got a hold of it, it was a measly little leather jacket with a couple holes in it, but now it looked like something completely new. You put a couple patches printed to look like newspapers on the jacket to cover the holes and added hundreds of studs and chains to it. To top it off, the word rebel was hand-painted on the back in sharp, white letters.

"I'll take it." The customer finally spoke.

"That's wonderful. Let me ring you up."

He followed you to the register where he paid for the jacket.

At this point, Valentino had gotten out of his bed and wandered around the counter.

"What a cute dog." He commented.

"Thank you. His name is Valentino."

"Like the fashion designer."

"The very same."

"Hm." The man gave a hum of what seemed like approval.

"You know, I just put that jacket out last night. You're the first one to show interest in it."

"What can I say? I have an eye for fashion." He grinned.

"I'd say you do. Your outfit is incredible."

"Oh, this?" He questioned as if it were nothing. "I just threw this together."

Your brows raised at his nonchalance.

"Well, darling, thank you for the jacket." He gave you a wink, retrieving the clothing from the counter. "Perhaps I'll see you around."

You blinked a few times as you watched him stride away, your cheeks feeling slightly warm at the nickname darling.

"Wait." You called out.

The man turned to glance over his shoulder.

"What's your name?"

"San. Don't wear it out, dear."

Just then, Hongjoong emerged from the back seeing San leave the store. The door closed and Hongjoong turned to look at you in your flustered state.

"Who was that?"

"San."

"San who?"

"I don't know, but he was beautiful."

Hongjoong let out a snort. "You're drooling."

You brought your hand up to your mouth, not feeling a thing.

"Am not."

"You were about to."

You rolled your eyes, choosing not to argue back.

A few days passed and all you could think about was the fashionable San. He was only in your store for about five minutes, but he made quite an impression on you, capturing your attention as soon as he stepped into your establishment.

A customer had just purchased a pair of pants with a partial skirt attached to it. Hongjoong only made one tester pair just to see if anyone would buy it.

"Looks like you need to make more of those pants." You commented.

"Looks like I do." Hongjoong smiled.

Your eyes widened as you saw San walking past the storefront, his eyes landing on the new display you set up.

"Oh my gosh." You stood from your seat behind the register.

"What?"

"There he is!" You whispered, pointing to the window.

"That San guy from a few days ago?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yes."

"He came back? That must mean he loved what he bought."

Your cheeks became warm thinking about San loving the jacket so much that he came back.

The door opened and in walked the highly fashionable man from the other day. Today he wore a black and white striped shirt with a long, black trench coat over the top. The pants he wore were the same color as his jacket and were cropped above his ankles, showing off his shiny dress shoes with pointed, metallic-capped tips.

"Hello." Hongjoong greeted as he approached San.

"Hello." San responded as he passed Hongjoong, walking straight to you. "Y/n, my dear."

He took your hand, giving a kiss to the back of it. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Yeah. It's a surprise to see you." You managed to say.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he let go of your hand. "You're surprised I came back?"

"Well, yes."

"I wanted to see what else you've got. Hopefully it's as good as that jacket."

"Ah, well, feel free to look around." You gestured to the endless racks of clothes. "We have plenty more items like that."

San turned towards all the clothes and began perusing the store.

You watched as he strode around, his fingers running over the fabric of the clothes hanging up. Every so often, he would pull a piece of clothing off the rack, examining the garment and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. If he found something he liked, he would take it off the rack and toss it over his arm.

"I must admit, I'm impressed." San spoke up.

"Thank you. I can't take all the credit, though. Hongjoong designs a lot of these pieces as well." You spoke up.

"You're both incredibly talented." San praised. "What about this?" He retrieved a pair of pants from the rack.

You remember the trousers well, Hongjoong designed them. He took two different pairs of pants and cut them in half, one black pair, the other red plaid. He sewed them together and clipped a wallet chain onto the belt loops.

"I made those." Hongjoong spoke up.

"Incredible." San murmured. "I'll take these. I have just the right top to pair with them."

Hongjoong offered to ring up the items San had collected while you made yourself busy rearranging a jewelry display.

Once San had paid for his items, he headed towards the door, briefly coming to a stop beside you.

"Keep doing what you're doing, love. There aren't many people who possess the talent you and your business partner have."

"Thank you." You told him.

"Don't mention it." He waved his hand dismissively as he headed towards the door. "Au revoir." (goodbye in French)

Again, you were left speechless and absolutely awestruck.

"He's amazing."

San continued to stop by the boutique over the next couple weeks, always looking for new finds and wanting to know the latest piece of clothing that had been reformed. He even showed interest in Hongjoong's pants with the half skirt attached to it and requested a custom pair of his own. He was practically a regular customer at this point.

Each time he popped into the store, he wore yet another incredible outfit that left you mind blown. He was the most fashionable person you had met—besides Hongjoong, of course.

"You know San?" You asked.

"The one you always ogle at?" Hongjoong asked.

"I do not—" He gave you a look, making you stop mid-sentence. "Yes. That one."

"What about him?"

"Do you think he lives around here?"

"I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"We should hire him."

"What?"

"His style is incredible. We could use someone like him on our staff."

"Hm." Hongjoong hummed. "It's not a bad idea."

The mail slot in the front door opens as today's newspaper falls to the floor. Your dog, Valentino got up to retrieve it, carrying it over to you.

"Ah, the paper. Thank you, Valentino." You thanked your Dalmatian, taking the newspaper from him.

You unrolled the paper, pausing when you saw a photo of a familiar-looking man printed on the front page.

Plastered on the front page of the newspaper was a photo of San, and he was wearing your jacket. The cover read: RENOWNED SOUTH KOREAN FASHION DESIGNER CHOI SAN AT LONDON'S FASHION WEEK.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Hongjoong?" You called out.

Your partner came hurrying over.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

"Look." You showed him the front page.

Hongjoong's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open.

"He's a fashion designer?" He exclaimed in disbelief.

"Apparently so. A renowned fashion designer too."

"I can't believe this. Do you know what that means?" Hongjoong asked.

"We had a popular fashion designer stop by our shop!"

"Exactly! Do you think he told his famous fashion designer friends about us?" He inquired excitedly.

"I don't know. Let's read the article."

South Korean fashion designer Choi San has graced London with his presence, traveling to the bustling city for London Fashion Week. He's been seen around the city wearing some eye-catching outfits that have people talking.

Choi San is known for his uniquely original and out-of-the-box designs. Fans and designers alike are all anticipating what he has in store.

"Wow." You gaped. "I'm speechless."

"Do you think those eye-catching outfits consisted of anything he bought from this store?" Inquired Hongjoong.

"I sure hope so."

You were dying for San to return to the boutique. You wanted so badly to talk to him about the new information you found out.

It was a couple days before he returned.

Those were the longest two days of your life.

One overcast day, he came striding into the boutique, graceful and elegant as ever.

"Hello." He greeted before perusing the items, acting as if he wasn't hiding a huge secret.

"You're a renowned fashion designer?!" You shrieked.

"Of course, doll." He responded, casually as his fingertips trailed over a pair of handmade earrings on display.

"And you didn't say anything?"

"You didn't know?" He asked, raising a brow.

"No. I saw you in the paper the other day."

"Well, I don't fault you for that. I'm fairly new in the fashion scene. A virtuoso, they call me. Can you believe that?" He chuckled. "It's rather flattering."

"I can't believe a famous fashion designer has been visiting our little boutique. I had no idea."

"Don't let it get to you, dear." He chuckled. "My status shouldn't change the relationship between us."

"R-relationship?" You blushed.

"Yes?" He said it like a question. "We're friends, are we not?"

"Yes! Friends. Of course. Yeah." You chuckled nervously.

That was awkward.

Hongjoong emerged from the back room with a newly reformed piece of clothing, a measuring tape draped around his neck.

"Ah! Just the man I wanted to see." He smiled. "What do you think?"

Hongjoong held up a black coat that had been completely redone. It was embellished with silver swirls and had epaulettes added onto the shoulders.

"Wow." San gaped. "I love everything about it. How much?"

Hongjoong gave him the price he was considering for the garment and San immediately bought it.

"I'll probably stop by within the next few days." He told the both of you.

"That's fine. You're welcome any time. Even if we're closed." Hongjoong smiled.

"Good to know." San tossed his shopping bag over his shoulder. "Until next time." He waved, striding out of the shop.

San returned to your store just a few days later, a large bag tossed over his shoulder.

He strode into the boutique, dropping the sack onto the floor. You furrowed your brows at him.

"Well, don't just stand there. Have a look." He gestured.

You opened the bag and began digging through it, gasping as you pulled out multiple pieces of designer clothes.

"What are you doing? This is thousands of dollars worth of your clothing."

"Right. I want you to tear it up."

"I'm sorry?"

"What you do here. Thrifting clothes. Tearing them apart and putting them back together. I'm having a show, that's why I'm here in London. I'd like to do a small showcase during my show."

"So you're talking about a collaboration? Your clothes, our style?" You questioned.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about, love."

"We would love to."

"I'd like to watch you work if you don't mind. I can assist you, of course. I would just need a station with a sewing machine."

"Don't worry. We have an extra in the back." Hongjoong chimed in. "We can definitely work something out."

"Fabulous." San grinned. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

Later that evening when the store closed, the three of you gathered in the back room where all of the sorting and reassembling took place. You and Hongjoong would examine each piece San brought in, making plans and sketches, discussing how you would upcycle it. With each piece came a story from San about how he came up with the idea for the garment. You enjoyed hearing him talk about his thought process, hanging on to every word. You took it as an opportunity to learn a bit from the fashion genius.

After examining each piece of clothing, the three of you got to work. You and Hongjoong would cut up clothes while San laid them out on a table and pieced them together, following the sketches the two of you provided. Naturally, you and your business partner had music playing to help keep everyone motivated. Though, sometimes you'd get distracted, prancing around the room and dancing.

Unbeknownst to you, San was watching and admiring you as you goofed off. To see you so carefree while doing what you love made his heart swell.

A couple hours passed and the three of you had gotten a considerable amount of work done. You cut up about half of the clothes San brought to you and laid them out with pieces of other garments of San's that you'd planned to turn into one piece.

Once you had a few pieces laid out, you and San began to sew them together while Hongjoong continued to disassemble any remaining garments in the bag.

At some point, Hongjoong let out a huff, stretching his back.

"I could use something to eat. Is anyone else hungry?"

"Starving." You responded.

Hongjoong glanced at his watch.

"It's only 7:00 PM. I can go and pick something up."

"Sounds good. San and I can stay here and keep working."

"Perfect. What's everyone in the mood for?"

You and San shared a look before you spoke up.

"Pizza?"

You then looked to San for approval, worried that he would turn the idea down and suggest some lavish meal.

"It's a classic. You can't go wrong with pizza." He responded.

"Great." Hongjoong clasped his hands together. "I'll be back soon."

Your partner left the room, the sound of the front entrance closing behind him following shortly after. You paid no mind to it as you worked, sewing the lower half of a red plaid shirt onto the bottom of a cropped, leather jacket.

"So, Y/n, how long have you been into fashion?" San inquired.

"Since I was a kid. I'd get into my parents' closet and take their clothes." You chuckled. "I remember one time I took my dad's suit jacket and tied one of my mom's scarves around the waist. Then, I got a hold of her red heels and put them on. The outfit was horrendous and I was far too little for any of the clothes, but it was so much fun."

A soft smile made its way onto San's face as he pictured a tiny you prancing around in a large jacket and heels.

"I used to draw pictures of outfits too. Most of the drawings were of dresses. I'm talking pages upon pages."

"Did you ever create any of those drawings?"

"Goodness no." You chuckled. "When I got older and learned how to use a sewing machine, my taste had changed quite a bit."

San listened to you talk about how your love for fashion progressed as well as how you and Hongjoong met and started your business together.

"That's quite a story."

"Yeah, it is." You hummed. "Not everyone is lucky enough to have their plans work out like mine and Hongjoong's."

"I'd say you're both very lucky."

Valentino, who had been napping walked up to you, resting his head in your lap. You stopped what you were doing to give him a few soft pets accompanied by ear scratches. His tail wagged happily in response. When you stopped, he lifted his paw, placing it on the side of your thigh as a way to tell you to keep going.

"Alright." You chuckled. "But only for a little while. Mama's got work to do."

San watched you with adoration, his heart thumping heavily in his chest.

"How did you get Valentino?" He asked.

"I actually found him roaming the streets. I was headed here when I spotted him. I felt so bad. He was only a little guy at the time. I brought him into the store and gave him part of the sandwich I packed for lunch. Hongjoong was surprised to see me come in with a dog, but he didn't mind. I decided that day that I would keep him." You gave the Dalmatian a fond look as you stroked his ears. "While I was working, he wandered in the back room. I later found him sleeping on a Valentino shirt Hongjoong thrifted. That's how I decided to name him."

"He's lucky to have you." San smiled.

"I think I'm the lucky one."

It wasn't long before Hongjoong returned with a couple pizzas and some drinks. The three of you took a twenty minute break to eat and rest before getting back to work. When midnight rolled around, you decided to call it a night. The three of you agreeing to close up shop and head home, promising to pick up again the next day.

You continued to meet up for a week, working tirelessly on the clothes. San and Hongjoong stayed in the back room sewing while you worked the store. When you weren't running the boutique, you were in the back helping San, switching out with Hongjoong.

It took two weeks for every piece to be completed. Once finished, each item of clothing was placed on a hanger and put in a garment bag, provided by San, then put inside a van.

"Thank you so much, darling." San beamed, flashing a bright smile accompanied by the most charming dimples. "The two of you have done marvelous work."

"It was an honor." You told him.

"It really was. To work with someone like you has been such an awesome experience." Hongjoong agreed.

"It's been wonderful working with the both of you." San approached Hongjoong, giving him a brief cheek-to-cheek air kiss.

He then moved over, doing the same to you, except he actually kissed your cheeks.

"I'll see you around." He smirked, giving you a wink before hopping into the van and driving off.

You stood with your mouth open, your cheeks burning from San's sudden kisses.

"He just..." You trailed off, your hands cupping your burning cheeks.

Hongjoong stood off to the side, unable to hold back giggles as he watched you in your flustered state, having witnessed the exchange.

"Y/n! The paper's here!" Hongjoong called. "And San is on the cover again!"

You rushed out of the back room, excitedly.

"Let's see what it says."

Hongjoong laid the paper out on the counter so the both of you could read it. The front page was plastered with photos of San wearing clothes that he bought from the boutique. Your eyes traveled from the photos to the article as you began to read it.

Choi San is set to have a fashion show this weekend where he will showcase his most recent designs. The fashion genius has been spotted walking the streets of London wearing an incredible ensemble from his new fashion line. Critics have been raving over the pieces he's been seen wearing around the city. When asked for any clues about his upcoming line, this was his response.

"Well, I can't reveal much about my designs, but the theme for the show will be 'The Next Generation of Fashion'. So stay tuned, darlings." The designer said.

"What?" You frowned. "His designs?"

"That can't be right." Hongjoong murmured.

His eyes scanned over the article, a frown on his face.

"He didn't say that, did he?"

"It says it right there, plain as day." You pointed. "I can't reveal much about my designs. Not only that, but it says he's been wearing his designs around the city. The clothes he's wearing in the photos is our stuff from the shop."

Hongjoong shook his head in response, unable to believe that San would do that.

"I have to talk with him." You murmured.

"It looks like you'll get your chance."

The door swung open and in walked Choi San, happy as ever.

"Hello, loves." He greeted, striding towards the register.

Hongjoong, who knew what was going to happen, quickly made himself scarce.

Your jaw clenched as he approached you with an arrogant grin that you wanted so badly to slap off his face. You snatched up the newspaper and slammed it onto the counter.

"Care to explain?"

The designer's brows furrowed as he looked down at the front page. "I don't understand."

"The article, San. You totally took credit for mine and Hongjoong's work."

"No, I didn't."

"It says so right here." You pointed.

He leaned down to get a better look at the paper.

"I can't believe I thought you wanted to work with me." You scoffed, shaking your head. "Just go."

San merely turned around and left the boutique without another word.

A huff left you as you spun around, storming into the back room.

"What happened?" Hongjoong inquired.

"I told him to leave."

"He didn't say anything?"

"No."

Valentino trotted in a few moments later with an envelope in his mouth.

"What's that?" Asked Hongjoong.

"I don't know. He already got the mail."

You took the lavish, cream-colored envelope from him, opening it up.

Inside was a card with two tickets to the fashion show. The card had a short note written in neat handwriting:

You've worked hard. Enjoy the show.

- San

"It's tickets to San's fashion show." You scoffed.

"He sent us tickets?" Hongjoong rushed over, peering over your shoulder.

"I guess that's what he came here to do." You assumed.

"Y/n, you need to go." He told you.

"What? No. There's no way. Not after what he did to us."

"I know you're upset that he used us, but I want to go to the show, you should too. The least we can do is show up and see our designs on the runway."

To your disappointment, he had a point. It would be nice to be able to see the clothes you and Hongjoong worked so hard to create.

You walked into the event, loud music blaring throughout the large room. You felt like your whole body was trembling. You didn't want to be there.

"You look great." Hongjoong assured you.

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"It'll be fine, Y/n. Despite what he did, I think he wanted us to be here."

"I can't understand why."

The two of you made your way to a row of seats. Hongjoong stopped suddenly, nudging you.

"Look." He pointed to the first row of seats, each one with a card on them. There were two chairs beside each other, one had a card with Hongjoong's name on it, the other with yours. You were a bit surprised to see that you had reserved seats, especially after what happened just a few days prior.

"C'mon." Hongjoong beckoned you over to your chairs.

After sitting down, you held the name card in your hand, flipping it back and forth. On the cardstock was your name printed in beautiful gold letters, a decorative box framing the print.

The show began shortly after, rock music playing through the speakers in the building as the lights started to dim. A silence settled over the room as everyone focused on the bright catwalk. A voice came over the speakers, kicking off the show.

"Welcome to the next generation of fashion."

Models began striding down the runway, each one donning an outfit you had never seen. You knew immediately that these were San's designs. Though you want very happy with him at the moment you had to admit, his designs were impeccable—they were nothing like you'd ever seen before. It was hard not to be impressed by his incredible work. He truly was a virtuoso.

Halfway through the show, that same voice came over the speakers once again.

"And now, for a special showcase."

Your eyes widened in awe as you watched the models strut down the catwalk wearing designs that you and Hongjoong created. It was like a dream come true. You just wished the circumstances were better. Though your situation wasn't the greatest, you didn't let that put a damper on your excitement.

The both of you watched with awestruck expressions as the models sashayed down the runway, showing off the upcycled pieces of San's previous fashion lines. The models looked incredible, as did their hair and makeup. Every single one had a different look and managed to match the vibe of each ensemble.

"Wow." You gaped.

"Yeah." Hongjoong nodded, his wide eyes staring unblinking at the models.

The last few models made their way off stage, signaling the end of the showcase. You knew what would happen next.

Your chest tightened when San walked up on stage. The crowd clapped and cheered as he made his way to the front of the catwalk.

His black and white hair was pushed away from his face in a messy, yet tidy way that perfectly suited him. His ensemble consisted of a white dress shirt that was unbuttoned halfway, showing off a silver body chain. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black, high-waisted trousers with two rows of buttons on the front and a chain dangling from the waist. He had on a large, spotted fur coat that resembled a Dalmatian, and bold, red gloves with many silver rings on top. The coat was long and swayed behind him as he stepped forward.

"Good evening, everyone." He greeted, scanning the crowd.

You unconsciously pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, afraid of being noticed.

"I hope you all enjoyed the show. First of all, I want to thank every single one of you for coming tonight. I appreciate your support dearly."

The crowd clapped in response.

"The showcase you all just watched was extra special. You might have noticed some familiar elements in each outfit, those elements being my old designs. Each one has gotten a new life, being turned into something different." He explained.

There were a few oohs from the crowd.

"I can't take all the credit for the end result you all saw moments ago. Yes, these may be my clothes, but they were truly brought to life by the amazing people who run a small boutique in town and I have to give all the credit to them. I was only a small part of this." He admitted. "Contrary to what the papers have been saying, all the fashion I've been wearing during my time here has been created by them. The pieces I wore were purchased at their boutique, it was not me giving anyone a sneak peek at what would be showcased tonight. You should all know, I hate giving spoilers."

Your lips pressed together as you felt shame and embarrassment flood your entire body.

"Now, I would like to introduce you all to the two incredibly talented fashionistas who re-created the stunning looks you just saw. Hongjoong and Y/n, will you come up here?" San turned right towards the both of you, your cheeks being set aflame.

Hongjoong nudged you as he stood up, heading onto the catwalk with you nervously following behind.

"Everyone please give these two a rousing applause!"

The whole room erupted in claps and cheers for you and Hongjoong. You were overwhelmed. You got to see your designs displayed on the runway and you were receiving a literal standing ovation from a room full of fashion designers and other luminaries. To top it all off, San was being genuine the entire time. Of course, you totally made a fool out of yourself and snapped at him without bothering to hear him out, and for that you needed to apologize.

San thanked everyone and gave a shoutout to yours and Hongjoong's boutique before closing out the show.

"There's going to be an after party in the next room, so please feel free to stay and hang out."

And with that, the show was over and the after party began. Everyone started getting up from their seats, making their way to the next room as you, San, and Hongjoong exited the catwalk, going backstage.

"Thank you, San. The showcase was incredible." Hongjoong told him.

"I should be thanking you. Tonight was a success and that's because of you two."

You smiled a little, guilt weighing on your heart.

"Well, I believe you two need some time alone, so I'm going to the after party. I'll see you later." Hongjoong quickly excused himself, allowing you and San some privacy.

"San, I'm so terribly sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was really hateful to you that day." You apologized immediately.

"It's alright." He shook his head with a soft smile. "Don't worry yourself."

"I didn't know the tabloids messed up"

"Well, they did. I read the paper when I got home that day and found that they misquoted me. I never said my designs. I said the designs. They also jumped to conclusions big time and assumed the pieces from your store were my designs. I'd say I can't believe they did that, but honestly, that's how they are." He rolled his eyes. "Magazines, newspapers, websites. They're practically known for mincing people's words. How embarrassing."

"My apology still stands. I should have let you explain."

"I told you not to worry." San brought a gloved finger up under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. "You don't have to apologize."

"Alright." You sighed.

He dropped his hand, giving you a warm smile.

"So, what did you think about the show? Honestly."

"It was incredible. I was blown away by your designs and the ones Hongjoong and I worked on looked great too. It was honestly a dream come true. And that was nice of you to give our shop a shoutout at the end."

"You both deserve it." He smiled softly.

"Your outfit tonight is incredible. I especially love the coat."

"Thank you, doll. It's a tribute."

"A tribute?"

"To you. It reminded me of your dear Valentino so I wanted to wear it tonight."

You didn't hold back the flattered grin that spread across your features.

He did that for you?

"Now, let's talk about this ensemble you have on. You look absolutely divine." He told you.

Your eyes widened. "You think so?"

"I know so. Let me have a look at this." He glanced at your outfit, stepping back and allowing you to show him the full look.

You chose a flattering, yet chic ensemble; a bit edgy like what you and Hongjoong reform, but classy enough for a fashion show.

"Oh my." San gasped. "My dear Y/n, you are absolutely stunning."

You tried to stay cool, but San's compliments were getting to you, making your whole body feel like it was going to collapse.

"Love, can I tell you something?" He suddenly asked, his hand reaching for yours.

You allowed him to take it as he pulled you closer.

"Yes. Of course."

"You've captivated me, my dear Y/n. I treasure that night we shared in the back room of your shop. I enjoyed learning more about you and your love for fashion."

That brought a smile to your face.

"I enjoyed that night too, and every night after that when we worked on clothes."

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual." He smiled, his thumb running over the top of your hand.

You could tell there was something he wasn't saying or something he wanted to say, rather.

"We made a great team. Perhaps we should make this duo permanent."

"What are you trying to say?" You inquired.

"I'm saying, I want you to be my girlfriend."

You tried to hold back your smile as you looked at him.

"What if I don't feel the same?" You asked.

"Darling, I know when people are staring at me."

"What?"

"I saw you gawking at me all those times I came into your boutique."

"Oh." You became flustered. "So you noticed."

"Don't be embarrassed, darling. I quite liked it. Attention from the public is nice, but attention from you is even better."

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart racing.

"So, what do you say? You want to make this official?"

"Yes, please."

San was unable to contain himself as a glowing grin spread across his face, his dimples making an appearance. His hand let go of yours, moving to rest against your waist, tugging your body closer. You knew what he was getting around to and you were more than okay with it. His gloved hand cupped your cheek as his sharp, half-lidded eyes darkened slightly, his face inching closer to yours.

"Just kiss me already." You urged, desperate to feel his lips.

"What's the magic word?" He whispered.

Unable to wait any longer, you grabbed the body chain that hung over his chest, using it to pull him to you, your lips crashing against his. The unexpected action caught San off guard, but he didn't mind. In fact, he thought that was very attractive.

His hand immediately moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer so he could deepen the kiss.

"A girl who knows what she wants. I like that." He smirked against your mouth before capturing your lips fully with his own. You clung to him desperately, your hands clenching the fabric of his shirt as your head tilted slightly, wanting to feel closer to San.

A hum of satisfaction from San vibrated against your lips, sending a rush of butterflies through your stomach. His hand that was resting on your waist made its way to the small of your back, holding you firmly against him.

As much as you hated to, you pulled away in need of air. San stared down at you with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, his eyes droopy. His hair had become slightly out of place, a few extra strands hanging over his forehead. You casually brought your hand up to his uniquely-colored hair, gently running your hand over it, careful not to mess it up.

"I've always been fascinated with your hair." You admitted.

"Really?"

You hummed with a nod.

"I used to color it when I was a kid. I felt that I stood out too much."

"You know, sometimes standing out is a good thing."

He smiled, cupping your cheek. "That's exactly right, my dear."

The designer placed one last kiss to your lips before escorting you back out to the main room.

"Now, what do you say we go to that after party?"

"Sounds good." You nodded.

Hongjoong: Hades ⟡ Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yunho: Captain Hook ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ Mingi: Dr. Facilier ⟡ Wooyoung: Hyena ⟡ Jongho: Gaston

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

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[satoruhour]

how nanami would react to you (his wife) being needy when he comes back from work pls <3

a/n: hehe / 1.6k

warnings: f! masturbation, pleasure dom nanami, pet names, usage of sex toys (vibrator + dildo), nanami listens in for a bit, clit stimulation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, face-sitting, clothed sex, a bit of degradation, p → v penetration, riding, cowgirl, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied second + subsequent rounds, n*sfw under the cut

“honey?” nanami calls out to the seemingly quiet home. there’s no sounds coming from the kitchen, which is a normal occurrence for you, pots and pans clanging in a rush to make sure dinner’s ready before your husband returns, even after he insists that there’s no hurry. but of course, he’s overtimed for quite a while, leaving the office around 7.30, so he doesn’t think it’s weird that you aren’t in your usual apron and slippers.

but he doesn’t smell dinner, either, the faded fragrance of whatever it is you planned to make wafting through the house; nothing. and then fear takes over as nanami scours the place, dress shoes clicking uncomfortably on the floor reminds him of an explosive — maybe you’ve been taken hostage, maybe you have a bomb attached to you, but the further he enters into your home, the more he doesn’t hear the matching sounds of a timer against the heel of his shoe.

it’s more of a low hum, when he finally ascends the stairs. one step by one step, nanami gets closer to the source: an unceasing buzz of a toy, and your quiet whimpers muffled by the duvet, the thrashing of your legs and the squelch of your dripping cunt as it sucks in your dildo. your husband internally sighs in relief, but he kicks out the previously terrifying vision before and focuses on your sounds.

“ken— s-shit…” nanami wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks, sparing a glance to the dick print already showing through the fabric and thinking if he should respect your space to let you finish or if he should just offer to help. ah, nanami, always the caring husband, but he knew chivalry would only make you more needy, so he sounds a quick rapt on the door and opens it, arriving to the sight of his pretty wife spread out so nicely.

“ah! what- kento!” your hair is tousled all over, some sticking to your skin. with chest heaving, you try to catch your breath as the toy you’ve been using dies out, clearly not able to take your multiple lacklustre orgasms. from the door, nanami’s eyes shift down to your cunt, wet and soaking the sheets, your cute apron swiped to the side. his eyes soften just a little seeing your fucked out expression, and even more so at the way you don’t cover yourself—

nanami makes you feel so damn good about your body that you have no room for insecurity and he thinks you look like an absolute goddess like this, imperfections and all. the soft pleas leaving your mouth is just the cherry on top.

“hey sweetheart… need some help?” and he feels his heart clench when you nod shyly and mutter a soft ‘please‘, hand reaching for his once he comes close enough to the bed. your husband goes in for a passionate kiss, twining his fingers with yours as the other sifts through your hair. it’s always vulnerable with nanami, laying down and pulling you atop him easily.

“no, baby,” nanami has one hand on your middle to stop your hips from moving, brushing the hair that falls out from your barely-together bun behind your ears, “want you to sit on my face. can you do that, sweetheart?”

“but what if i…” you pout, holding the hand that fumbles with your hair, pressing a soft kiss to his open palm.

“aht, aht, what’d i say about worrying about me?” nanami just smiles, ready to suffocate between your thighs, at the mercy of your sweet arousal. he nudges you forward as you scoot up his body knee by knee, until you’re hovering over him. he can smell you from here, puffy clit jutting out from how many times you’ve cum rubbing it. just after are your folds, leaking pure nectar that starts to pool; his tongue laps it up before it drops. “i’d be happy to perish if it was your pretty little pussy suffocating me.”

you roll your eyes even when his words had a clear effect on you, “since when were you so dramat— f-fuck!” nanami dives in without warning, licking and sucking your clit with his tongue, eyes closed from enjoying his meal. your lover groans, pulling you down more and more although you still subconsciously hover, “put your weight on me, princess. do it.”

nanami plunges his tongue into your hole, nose nudging your clit and it’s the one thing that gets you releasing your hold on your thighs, choking out mewls of desperation as you grind down on his face. soon, your hands take hold of his blonde hair, too, tugging on him to get him deeper. there’s a sharp inhale from below you and you meet his eyes, the stoic, dead look and yet you know the look of the overflow of love and lust for you anywhere — it can only be found in nanami kento’s eyes.

“k-kentoo… feels s’good…” you moan, pulling your weight back to support yourself with your arms, with the intent to land a hand on his aching dick. you squeeze, earning a low groan from the other at your sneaky move and he removes his mouth from you for a second.

“sneaky lil slut, aren’t you?” nanami laughs breathlessly before latching back onto your pussy, sending vibrations through your body when you press down on his cock once again. he loves it, hips lifting off the bed to meet your hand, while yours ground down on his relentless tongue.

“dirty baby… mhmp— my pretty, pretty wife sitting here, frilly apron and all,” nanami reaches up to turn your face down towards his, “fucking herself while i wasn’t home. i’m not sure if she deserves to cum.”

you immediately whine, the prospect of being denied your orgasm makes you delirious, abandoning your initial mission to tease as you switch to grinding your lower half into nanami’s face. “kento— i wanna cum, p-ple— oh, fuck!”

his tongue has descended to your hole, his thumb rubbing your clit instead. the sensations are too much, back arching and legs closing in around your husband’s head. “’m close— can i c-cum, please? please please mmfh—”

he could never hold you back from what’s natural, after all, he loves seeing you come apart, moans stuck in your throat and skin glimmering with a slight sheen of sweat — he’s memorised how you cum at this point, and you do just that when your thighs thrash around his head, hips stuttering as you come undone.

“cumming—! ’m cumming, ’m cumming!” you cry out his name, riding out the delicious high. nanami doesn’t stop his ministrations, helping you through your climax until you’re pushing at his shoulders because you’re so sensitive. 

nanami is far from done, though, helping you to scooch back down as he sits up, capturing your lips in a slow kiss. you taste yourself on his mouth, cumming so much that when you pull away, there’s a string that connects your lips together and nanami has to compose himself.

“you okay?” you wordlessly nod, making quick work of his pants, hearing a relieved sigh escape from the other when his cock is finally out. he has a pretty dick, always in awe before you have to take him, but you do it with no problem, the mushroom tip stretching your hole as you sink down on him. you’re so wet that your juices are dripping down his shaft, easing your way down as he mumbles praises in your ear, sending the hairs on your arm standing when he lets out a guttural groan once he bottoms out.

“there’s my girl… taking me so fuckin’ well,” nanami pecks your forehead as you start to move, arms looped around his shoulders for stability as you bounce on his cock, cries of his name interrupted by your moans. “feel so tight for me, shit.”

“’s all for you, kento,” you babble, tits bouncing as you make work of your hips. your thighs feel like cramping, your core is aching, but nanami’s fat cock just feels so good in you, filling up every part of your cunt that you can hardly give a shit, “my pussy’s y-yours… ah!”

“yeah? mine for me to cum in?” nanami wraps his arms around you, both of you falling back though it doesn’t stop your man from thrusting up into you. it’s so deep, hitting a spot that you let out a loud whimper, body limply sagging against your husband’s as he continues to ram into your poor, little cunt. with each thrust, there’s the slap of his pelvis against your ass, your cum making webs that connect his hips to your core and he’s groaning about how you got so tight from wanting to be filled.

“ye—yeah, yeah, wan’ your cum, kento,“ you mumble with a whine, your second orgasm approaching while your let him ruin you, cumming on a particular thrust that has your body tensing and muscles spasming, profanities and obscene sounds falling from your mouth before the man below you grunts.

“good girl, t-take my cum, baby,” nanami whispers, receiving drunken ‘yes’s’ from you and his thrusts halting before his eyes are rolling back, spurting his seed into you. he releases deep into you, thick ropes of cum that fill up your pussy until it’s spilling out from the sides. “that’s it…”

but while nanami is ready to receive your drowsy, lovestruck state, you have other plans, sitting up just a little while your hips continue to bounce on him. small pants leave your mouth, the sloppy, lewd sounds that your pussy makes only spur nanami on again, holding your body close to his while he promises to take care of his wife like a good husband does, indulging in your indecent desires, fucking you like a good girl and pumping you full of his cum until it’s all you can think about.

[poppadom0912]

FBI

Characters: Kelly Severide x Reader, half of firehouse 51

Warnings: Brief mentions of a crime idk.

Summary: This wasn't exactly what they were thinking when an fbi agent strolled into their firehouse.

A/N: I had such a nice plan for this little beauty but then I messed up and then I remembered I had homework due tomorrow that I haven't done so please enjoy this ugly piece of writing. Kinda don't want to publish this but I need to feed you lot before I get swamped in holiday homework.

"Hey, I'm looking for a Kelly Severide."

You said, asking the first person you found. It was your first time in the firehouse and this definitely wasn't how you planned it to be but you could make this work.

"Lieutenant Kelly Severide?" The woman rose her brow, her voice coming across as soft as she looked. You couldn't deny she was pretty and taking into account her blonde hair and the word paramedic on her uniform caused your brows to rise ever so slightly.

"Oh! You must be Sylvie Brett." You smiled, holding out your hand for the paramedic to shake which she did with much confusion and slight fear. "Agent Y/N Y/L/N."

"You work for the fbi." She stated, fidgeting with her fingers once your hands were released. It was clear she was shocked and you could understand why; your gun in its holster, your shiny golden badge and the bold yellow letters printed on the back of your government issued jacket.

"Yes I do." You replied with a tight lipped smile, annoyed that your job was the first impression everyone at the firehouse would be getting from you; these men and women were family to Kelly and greeting them for the first time ever in your uniform wasn't what you wanted.

Before Sylvie could fully shake off her shock, someone butted into the conversation, having spotted and recognising you.

"Y/N, you're back." Matt smiled, his arms wide inviting your for a hug which you immediately accepted. The captain was the one person in Kelly's life that knew of your existence since there was no hiding you from his roomate, especially since your stay became more permanent.

The hug was what caught everyone's attention. Sylvie talking to someone was normal but Matt hugging a stranger wasn't, hence all the heads turning and when all their eyes widened, you weren't surprised.

"Feds." Two men whispered in sync upon laying eyes on you, the others stood out of their seats and came around to you in the middle of the common room.

"What do the feds want with us now?" One man asked, crossing his arms with an attitude that you could smell from a mile away. Maybe it was his accent or it could've been his snarky tone which got him a quick reprimand from the captain but you knew his name.

"Christopher Herrmann, right?" You pointed at him, your smile brightening when he did a double take at the name you guessed correct.

"It's probably creepy that I know all your names and I really wished that we could've met under better circumstances but I will explain everything." You said, sheepishly smiling at the very confused group of firefighters.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?" Kelly noticed you from afar, it was hard not to recognise the three yellow letter the second he turned the corner.

Within seconds, Kelly enveloped you into his arms and despite the reputation that you wanted to maintain, you folded and accepted the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist, contently inhaling the comforting scent that always followed your boyfriend.

"Okay I'm sorry but who are you?"

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You replied automatically, not even thinking about leaving out the agent. Biting the inside of your lip, you internally cursed at yourself.

"She's my girlfriend." Kelly smirked, his arm happily resting across your shoulders where he could keep you close to him. "Whose actually supposed to be in Texas right about now, what happened?"

"Everything's fine. We apprehended our guy earlier than expected and there might've been a gunfight and there's a small possibility I was in the middle but a graze is nothing." You said with ease since it was your job and you loved everything it entailed but to your crowd, you seemed like a lunatic and a hero combined in one.

"You're kidding." Kelly looked down at you in concern, his heart rate picking up at the mere thought of you getting hurt, even if you brushed it off as a papercut.

Before you could explain further that a graze inflicted zero pain, a man you could name purely based off the aura that surrounded him entered the common room.

"Agent, what can we do for you?" The tallest man came forward and asked, his hands shaking yours before they were on his hips. From his stance and the way his voice was so gentle but commandeering made it easy for you to deduce his position in the firehouse; it also helped that Kelly continuously boasted about the men and women of 51.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your day chief." You firstly apologised, sheepishly smiling at the firefighters who were shocked at Kelly's arm still wrapped around your waist. "I need nothing but a few minutes with lieutenant Severide and I'll be out your hair."

"Don't be silly." Kelly shook his head, looking down at you with a slight frown. "Why don't you stay for lunch, you can't just appear out of nowhere and not eat with us."

"I have so much paperwork I left behind. My boss will have my throat if they're not done." You tried fighting Kelly but he looked at you with such big eyes that you wanted to drown yourself in and a slight pout was making itself known and before you knew it, you were caving in.

"Alright, just a few bites and then I have to go."

It was safe to say, some feds were okay.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Eighteen

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Karaoke Party

Summary: Saiki has to go to a class party and just wants to eat sweets. Nothing is ever so simple.

            Saiki sighed in frustration as his apportment continued to cause problems. It was slow going getting to the money he needed to pay for the coffee jelly he’d had after forgetting his wallet, and due to his zebra-print, everyone had noticed him, so he couldn’t teleport away for the money, either. He was pretty stuck, unfortunately, and if he kept going, he’d cause more problems for people with his apportment.

            “Kusuo?”

            Saiki looked up and decided that maybe the world was smiling down on him today (for once in his life). It was (Y/N), wearing a white shirt with strawberries and pink shorts. When did Saiki start noticing fashion outside of himself? When it was (Y/N) looking like a sweet, which Saiki liked just as much as he liked (Y/N).

            “Hi, (Y/N).”

            “You look a little frustrated,” said (Y/N). They sat down opposite him, and unlike if anyone else was presumptuous enough to sit down without asking, Saiki was glad to have them. “Do you need help something?”

            “I forgot my wallet,” admitted Saiki.

            (Y/N) smile and pulled out their, of course, pink wallet. “Well, I was planning on getting myself a sweet, so I have mine. What if I cover for you?”

            “You will?” said Saiki.

            “Yeah.” (Y/N) shrugged as if it was no matter. “I know you’ll pay me back when you can, so it’s no big deal.”

            “Thank you,” said Saiki honestly.

            “Of course,” said (Y/N), calling over a waiter. “But do you mind if I have my snack, first?”

            “…Can I have another coffee jelly? I’ll pay you back for both,” said Saiki. If he was going to be here for a while longer, he might as well have another treat.

            (Y/N) laughed. “Totally.”

They made their order, and Saiki made his before. Once they got their treats, they dug in happily.

            “So, Kusuo, how do you feel about the class trip to the OK Karaoke place that opened up?” asked (Y/N) in an attempt to make conversation.

            “I’m going for the grand chocolate parfait they have,” said Saiki.

            “Not one for singing?” teased (Y/N), knowing he wouldn’t like the attention.

            “Absolutely not,” said Saiki gravely.

            “They’re going to make you,” said (Y/N). “What’s your plan?”

            “Get my parfait and then leave,” said Saiki.

            “Good luck,” said (Y/N). They knew things had a tendency to fall through and force Saiki to recalculate at the last moment.

            “Are you planning on singing?” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) nodded. “Chiyo, Mera, Kokomi, and I promised each other to all sing so none of us felt embarrassed about being the only one of our friend group.” They laughed. “I’m hoping Kokomi isn’t the first one of us since she’ll be a tough act to follow. She can really sing.”

            “Can you?” asked Saiki.

            “I sing in the shower, so that’s as far as my skills go,” said (Y/N) jovially.

            Saiki took a risk. “I’m sure you’ll sound nice.” He wasn’t very open with compliments, but with (Y/N), he never saw the harm. He wanted them to be confident and happy with themself.

            (Y/N) beamed, and their heart thrummed at the compliment from Saiki. “You think so?”

            “Yes,” said Saiki honestly.

            (Y/N) ducked their gaze but smiled softly. “Thanks, Saiki.” They risked a look into his yes. “And, hey, if you really do get forced to sing, I’ll do a duet with you, how about that? Then I can make a fool of myself so you don’t have too much attention.” They could help him out and get a moment with him. A win for (Y/N).

            Saiki’s gaze softened as he looked back at them. They were always so willing to help him. He really needed to pay them back. They were just too good.

            “That would be nice.”

            Saiki hoped to avoid singing, but at least now he’d be with (Y/N) if he had to. That wasn’t too bad. Honestly, he found that maybe he wouldn’t mind if he ended up participating.

l

            “Hey, who stopped my song?” said Takahashi as the karaoke machine glitched during his terrible singing (thankfully).

            “Saiki, what will you sing?” said Kaidou.

            “I came to eat,” said Saiki. He had made his order for the grand chocolate parfait instantly, and now he just had to wait and hope it came before he had to sing at all.

            “Saiki, we are here to make memories as a class today,” said Hairo, walking up to their table. “Every person much sing at least once.”

            (Y/N) took the song requester from Hairo.

            “Haven’t you already signed up?” asked Hairo.

            “Oh, yeah, but Kusuo and I were thinking of doing a duet. Getting up on your own is a lot with all these people,” said (Y/N), smiling brightly.

            “Of course! What a good idea, (Y/N)! It builds camaraderie!” said Hairo.

            (Y/N) grinned and winked at Saiki playfully since their plan had worked. Saiki felt his heart warm at their helpfulness and the wink.

            “It’s finally happening!” cried several voices, and everyone looked up at the stage area. It was Teruhashi’s turn. “Teruhashi! The class idol is going to sing!”

            Teruhashi winked. “I feel sort of shy!”

            “I never imagined I would get to hear Teruhashi sing,” said a boy.

            “Her voice is beautiful,” said another, brough to tears.

            “They do realize she hasn’t started singing yet, haven’t they?” said (Y/N), blinking in confusion.

            “They’re being stupid,” said Saiki.

            Saiki is here, too! Welcome to my concert! said Teruhashi.

            This isn’t your concert.

            Teruhashi lifted the microphone and began to sing, perfectly in tone and as beautiful as ever. She sang the perfect song for the perfect pretty girl. Everyone was crying at her amazing performance, both boys and girls, and Teruhashi was living for it.

(Teruhashi) “You know I’m awesome at everything, Don’t bother trying to resist me, I’m such a cute and kind and pretty girl, That soon enough, You’re gonna say ‘Oh, wow’ to me, Oh, you’ll say it to me.”

            Singing aside, those lyrics were the worst, thought Saiki.

            “I’m up next!” said Kaidou excitedly, heading up to the stage. He began to sing, and for anyone listening, it actually was pretty good, but everyone was too busy fawning over Teruhashi to pay attention to him.

            “You can be a professional singer,” praised one boy.

            “I was so moved,” said another.

            “You should be a singer!” said a girl.

            “Me? No way,” laughed Teruhashi.

            “Sing another song!” said another classmate.

            Poor Kaidou’s performance remained ignored the entire time until he slouched back to his table. Saiki clapped since it had been a good song. (Y/N) patted Kaidou’s back.

            “Nice singing,” said Saiki.

            “Yeah, you sounded really good, Kaidou. We were listening,” encouraged (Y/N).

            “(L/N), it’s your turn,” said Hairo, gesturing to the screen.

            “Wish me luck,” said (Y/N), standing up and taking the microphone.

            Taking a deep breath, they began to sing as the song played. Was it perfect? No, absolutely not. But they liked the song (“LOCO” by Itzy, the Japanese version), and they put energy into it, so even when they messed up the lyrics of tune, they could just grin at their friends and continue. Who cared about messing up if their friends were having a good time?

            When the song finished, (Y/N) bowed to applause and sat back down.

            “That was really good, (L/N),” said Kaidou.

            “Thanks. I’m glad people liked it even though I totally messed up,” laughed (Y/N).

            “You sounded nice,” said Saiki. He had enjoyed watching them enjoy themself, and they were as cute as the song they’d sung, so he’d liked it.

            “Really? Thanks, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), cheeks warm as they smiled.

            “Sorry for the wait,” said a waiter, walking into the room. “Grand chocolate parfait—”

            “It’s here.” Saiki raised his hand.

            “That’s mine!” said a boy at another table.

            What? Did someone order one before me? thought Saiki in alarm.

            “It came as soon as I ordered it,” said the boy. “It took less than a minute.”

            Saiki glowered. “That’s my parfait.” How dare he? I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes!

            “You can always go and ask for it,” suggested (Y/N).

            “That would be rude, so I can’t,” said Saiki. “Besides, he’s already eating it.” So I will make sure the microphone gets feedback when you sing.

            “Well, another fifteen minutes and his will come out for you,” said (Y/N). “So you just need to wait until then.”

            “And nine songs until ours, so I’m safe,” said Saiki.

            “Who’s next?” asked Kaidou.

            “It’s me!” said Nendou, standing up.

            “Yare yare.” Time to shut down my hearing. He looked at (Y/N). He didn’t need the to get brain damage from Nendou’s singing, so he reached out.

            Before he could, Nendou held out another microphone. “Hey, buddy, want to do a duet with me, too?”

            Everyone’s eyes were on Saiki and Nendou. Saiki had no choice. He turned off the lights in the room, making a blackout.

            “What? A blackout?” cried a few students.

            “Everyone calm down!” said Hairo. The lights flashed back on. “There they are.”

            “Okay, let’s sing, pal.” Nendou blinked. Saiki (and (Y/N)) were gone. “Pal? Pinky?”

            In the hall outside of the room, Saiki let out a sigh of relief. Now they couldn’t hear Nendou and he didn’t have to sing.

            “You really don’t want to sing,” chuckled (Y/N).

            Not with Nendou. The only one I’m willing to do it with is you, thought Saiki. “No.” That was all he said aloud though.

            “Why’d you bring me out?” asked (Y/N).

            “Nendou can’t sing. It’s not going to end well,” said Saiki.

            “Poor Nendou,” said (Y/N).

            Of course they’re worried about him, too. Saiki thought (Y/N) was too nice for their own good sometimes.

            “We should head back in soon, though, so you can keep an eye out for your parfait,” said (Y/N).

            “It has gotten quiet,” said Saiki, and the pair walked back into the room.

            It looked like the world had ended. Everyone was slumped nearly unconscious over their seats and tables.

            “Kaidou? What happened?” asked Saiki, putting his hand on his shoulder.

            Kaidou looked up. “Saiki?”

            “Oh, he’s still alive.”

            “What happened here?” asked (Y/N). “You look terrible.”

            “Nendou sang on his own. After that, hell opened up,” groaned Kaidou. “It felt like an orchestra made up of everything with a horrible sound. Before I lost consciousness, I remember thinking that the god of death must sing like him.”

            “I’m actually curious now,” admitted Saiki.

            “I’m sorry you went through that,” said (Y/N), patting Kaidou’s shoulder. “But you’re alive, so you’ll recover!”

            “What’s wrong?” asked Nendou, looking out over the slowly-recovering crowd. “Did my singing voice lull you to sleep? I’ll sing something more exciting, then.”\

            “How bad was it?” wondered Saiki.

            “Oh, Kusuo, look,” said (Y/N), gesturing to their table where a grand chocolate parfait now stood. “It came early!”

            “Time to eat,” said Saiki, sitting down.

            “Saiki, you and (L/N) are up next!” said Hairo.

            “What are you saying, we’re eighth in line,” said Saiki.

            “The order got deleted after the blackout, so I entered what I could remember,” said Hairo.

            “Oh, no.”

            “Come on, come on, Saiki, (L/N), everyone’s waiting for you,” said Hairo. “I’ll watch your food until you get back.”

            “I guess we’re doing this,” said (Y/N) sheepishly as they stood up.

            “Oh, no.” was all Saiki could muster.

            “You can do this,” said (Y/N), smiling at him.

            Saiki looked up at them. With their warm smile and loyal heart, Saiki couldn’t say no. Yare yare. He stood up. “We’re doing it.”

            (Y/N) beamed excitedly, and that made it all worth it. Even as people’s eyes went onto him and “Like OOH-AHH by Twice, the Japanese version” played, Saiki found it wasn’t so bad. Did he put much effort in? No. He was too busy letting (Y/N) be silly and enjoying their eternal joy. It was sweeter than any confectionary treat.

            As the song ended, (Y/N) bowed, and Saiki nodded. Their classmates cheered and clapped, and their friends whooped. (Y/N) boldly took Saiki’s hand, raised it above their head, and bowed once more.

            Saiki smiled as he bowed. No one would see it since he wiped it away as soon as he stood up, but he couldn’t contain it. Surprisingly, he had fun, but he suspected that was due to having (Y/N) by his side. That made everything better.

            “Now you can have your parfait,” said (Y/N), grinning at him. “And you didn’t embarrass yourself at all.”

            Saiki nodded. “Thank you for doing it with me.”

            “Of course,” said (Y/N). They smiled with closed-eyes. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Being close to you is nice. Of course I’d give anything to spend time with you. Squeezing his hand boldly, they let go and sat down across from him.

            Saiki sat and took a bite of his parfait, but the warmth in his chest and the content look on his face was more from (Y/N)’s sweetness than the parfait’s.

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[dearggntlereader]

Remus Lupin x reader doesn't follow the prompt "i hate you" "same" "good" *keeps making out* exactly but it's inspired TW: pretty short, some kissing, alcohol mentioned

only drunk, huh? . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You aren’t drunk enough to be staring at Remus lupin the way you are, gaze locked on his form with heavy, wanting eyes.

He’s sitting on a couch near the edge of the common room with Lily and Regulus, lightly laughing at something the former is explaining while running his hands through his hair every few minutes, tousling it up perfectly. 

Honestly, he looks a mess. Legs spread, shirt wrinkly and having ridden up to show the bottom part of his lean form and a jagged scar over the side of his waist, not to mention the print of lipstick, the same shade as Lily's mouth, on his cheek. He’s a mess, but Merlin if he doesn't look beautiful.

And because you’ve had your eyes on him since you arrived you know he isn’t drunk enough to be meeting your gaze the way he is.

Or to be smirking the way he is. You’ve never seen him smirk before. SInce when does he fucking smirk?? Also, didn’t he say he’s “not one for parties”? Then why does he look so comfortable with the loud music and at least 16 classmates staring at him like they want him to fuck them right there. Maybe they do.

Not like you can blame them.

Except you’re not going to be one of the girls falling for his mysterious act. They think he’s the whole packet. Smart, popular, tall, handsome, nice and respectful while having rough edges.

You know better with the way he laughs when his friends pull unnecessary pranks on Slytherins or snaps at someone disturbing his studies. You’ve seen him glare at his own friends in the great hall when they were simply trying to help him just last week. He’s an asshole and you hate him.

Because you hate him it doesn’t mean anything when he cocks his head towards the drink station and you actually start moving through the crowd of drunk students. You just realized you were thirsty. Nothing else.

You don’t have to look at him to know Remus is following you. 

When you arrive at the table with enough straight liquor to get a village black-out drunk and barely enough mixers for a group of five, you don’t bother trying to mix yourself something tasty and take a quick shot of Firewhiskey. Just as it finishes burning your throat, the aftertaste still heavy in your mouth, a familiar presence slides up next to you.

“Looking lovely today,” Remus mutters in a tone placed somewhere between sarcasm and flirty genuineness.

“Don’t I always?” you respond while pouring yourself another shot, for plausible deniability when you wake up in a red and gold dorm room tomorrow morning.

His eyebrows shoot up and a slight smirk dances on his Lips while you knock back your drink, already pouring another with a grimace, “That amount of ego coming from- Wait.”

He takes your shot and drinks it instead of letting you get more drunk. “This is straight liquor,” he mumbles, disgust clear on his face.

“No shit sherlock. Straight Liquor you just stole from me, by the way.”

The corner of his lip slides up again as he gives you a smile that can only be interpreted as mocking while also stepping just a tad closer. “I'm pretty sure I can’t steal something I bought, but sure. What’s with the rush to get drunk, dove?”

"None of your business"

His Eyebrows draw together in a soft frown, although you can tell from his eyes he’s not actually bothered by your rude answer. "It is my business if you plan to follow our routine. Can't have you to drunk to notice my efforts"

His tone is laced with faux seriousness, yet the reference to ‘your routine’ startles a blush onto your already slightly flushed face. He’s not this bold usually and you haven’t decided whether you like it yet. Nonetheless your ego doesn’t allow you to lay out your interest as openly as he does.

"Can't be too sober to look at you twice," you bite back, voice less harsh than you intended, while averting your eyes from the small smile growing on his face.

That has always been your weakness when it comes to him. The soft smiles. The ones that make you forget that he can be a huge jerk with not enough backbone for even a person half his size.

"Doing a pretty good job at it right now," he murmurs.

"That's cause im already halfway drunk, you're lucky your dumb fucks of friends barely brought any mixers," you breathe, glancing at him while insulting his friends. You're trying to rile him up and don’t feel a tad bit bad about it.

It doesn’t work.

He smiles again, leaning his head down to catch your eyes. Merlin, he has pretty eyes."You're not anywhere near drunk, lovely. Otherwise you'd already be hanging onto me with that cute smile of yours."

"Proud of a girl only wanting you when she's drunk?"

"drunk actions, sober thoughts and all that." He says with a smile, less soft than before but nowhere near the earlier sharp smirk.

"fuck you."

"was planning on it."

When he starts to walk away you bite down another remark about how ‘he wishes’ and instead pull him back by his shirt and press a harsh kiss to his mouth. He only smiles for a second before kissing you back, leading you into something softer and slower as he slings an arm around your waist.

Luckily he doesn’t notice the embarrassing whine that leaves you when he pulls back, if he does he’s kind enough not to mention it.

The impromptu kiss, however…

“so you only want me when your drunk, huh?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His breath is hot against your Lips and the small circles he draws against your side cause hot flames of want to lick up your body.

[angel-maybe-alive]

Retelings cliches that piss me the fuck off

♡Alice in Wonderland is about drugs - it could be about society, it could be about neurodivergency but no, white girl doing LSD is cooler, I guess.

♡ what if Superman was evil - then it wouldn't be Superman dumbass, like the main point of Superman is that he is a good person like it's the whole deal hyperpowerful but really good

♡actually any what if the heroes had no morals- then you are just doing Greek myths with extra steps

♡Romeo and Juliet, but one is an oppressor and the other the oppressed - Litterally, both families were in equal standing in society. Why you need to make it abusive for no reason.

♡Beauty and the beast, any reteling of beauty and the beast - no, it's not Stockholm syndrome, no a shapeshifter elf with abs doesn't count as a Beast, and Belle was a nice person In the original why everyone remakes her as a cunt.

♡my book it's just like the hunger games but...-Shut it I need you to please tell me if you understand that no, hunger games isnt just about reality television and a battle royale, I swear to God...

♡Pinocchio but it's about a robot- flower print for spring groundbreaking

♡it's inspired by the works of tolkien- no, it's a transcript of you and your group of only male friends playing dungeons and dragons while high on cheap weed at 03:00 am on the suburbs while listening to pop punk on MTV in 2003, we get it you want to bang a hot elven maiden and slain a dragon

♡is inspired by Harry potter- For the last fucking time Rowling doesn't own the concept of magic schools let go of those fucking chains and let this woman go it's a magic school book just call it that goddamn it

♡it's inspired by fairy tales - Disney version or the cultural ones because one way or the other, your childhood crush on an animated villain shouldn't be the only thing fueling your writing career.

♡it's about Greek gods...-*sigh* I don't even know where to start with those just read something other than Percy Jackson(I love percy Jackson by the way) Lore Olympus and the first page of Wikipedia on Greek mythology and then maybe spend a long time thinking if whatever you are planning to write isn't somehow more misogynistic than whatever the fuck an old Greek scholar wrote thousands of years ago okay.

♡what if (real life bigotry) was reverse - just don't for a first time writing, for someone in a privileged place in society, it's just a bad idea altogether, Dont

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley goes on his second date with Amanda. She's beautiful, sweet, and so into him. But you're on his mind like always and he needs to do something to finally get you out of his head and out of his system. He has an all too willing participant.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

On Saturday evening, Bradley was getting ready for his second date with Amanda. He had been steadily beating himself up since you left on Friday morning. He could tell you were upset with him. Honestly, he was upset with himself. Kissing you while he was drunk had been bad. Seriously some college fuckboy shit. Probably worse than the guys your own age, because he should know better. Because he was so much older than you. 

And then he had kept you here all night, basically hijacking you when he should have sent you home. Instead, he had taken you to his bed. 

But now, the joke was on him, because his entire fucking room smelled like you. When he had tried to fall asleep on Friday night, his pillow smelled like a field of wildflowers. And then all he could picture were your glossy lips, pouting with a bright red Skittle perched between them. 

His dick was rock hard after that, and it had been almost painful how badly he needed to masturbate to the thought of you at midnight, his face buried in his pillow.

But that was yesterday. Now he was fresh out of the shower, where he had masturbated again, this time thinking about you in those cutoff denim shorts you had. At least now he was considerably less wound up as he let Noah play on his bed while he picked out something to wear to this film festival with Amanda. 

Amanda. Yes. Now she seemed like a safe bet. She checked off all of his boxes, and she was definitely giving off the vibe that she was into him. She had even been the one to initiate plans for the second date. 

"Should daddy wear this on his date tonight?" he asked Noah who was playing with some stuffed animals. He held up jeans and another Hawaiian print shirt. 

"For the babysitter?" he asked, perking up. 

Bradley swallowed hard. He wished. "No, bub. You get to hang out with your babysitter. I'm going to watch some movies with another woman."

Noah turned back to his stuffed panda and said, "Stay home and play with us. And eat ants on logs."

Bradley dropped the clothing onto his bed and ran his hands over his face. He stood there in his underwear for a minute, taking deep breaths. 

"Noah, I'm going out with this lady so that hopefully you can meet her one day, okay?"

He listened to his son mispronounce your name. "I thought she was your favorite."

Bradley groaned, yanking on his jeans. "She is, bub. That's the problem."

He heard you let yourself in and call out his name.

"Bradley? Noah? I'm here."

Noah slid off the bed and ran out of the room as soon as he heard your voice. Bradley also felt like running into the living room to give you a hug. Instead he finished getting dressed and ran his fingers through his hair to make it look better. But when he made his way to the living room and spotted you holding Noah, wearing those cutoff shorts and a tank top, Bradley thought maybe he should have jerked off again. 

"Hi," you whispered to him, trying to keep your expression neutral. Bradley wasn't sure if you were still upset with him because he had kissed you, but he did promise not to let it happen again. He would also wake you up if you ever dozed off on the couch again. 

"Princess." The name was out of his mouth before he could take it back, and he watched your expression change. Now you looked pleased with yourself as you set Noah down. 

"You look nice," you told him. "For your second date."

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess I have you to thank for that, since you fixed my app for me."

Bradley watched your face fall a little bit. "That must be it," you agreed. "Where are you going?" you asked as you pulled some coloring books out of your bag and held them out for Noah. 

"A film festival. In Balboa Park," Bradley replied. He watched Noah select the dog themed book and plop down right on the living room floor with it. 

You ruffled Noah's hair and handed him a box of crayons, and Bradley was once again aching for you.

"A film festival? Sounds right up your alley," you told him. You chewed on your lip for a beat before you added, "Maybe you should take your pajama pants and some popcorn."

Bradley could picture cuddling with you and feeding you popcorn in this room so easily, he needed to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 

"Nah, I'd miss my own couch too much," he promised you. 

"Ah, I see. Maybe for your third date then? You might need your couch?"

No.

He thought it so quickly. Almost said it out loud. Because he honestly could not picture bringing Amanda here after a third date.

Instead he said, "We'll see."

You nodded before you sat on the floor next to Noah. "Well, have fun."

Bradley cleared his throat. "If the two of you need your crowns, Noah's is on his dresser. And yours is on my bedpost."

Your eyes popped up to meet his, and your lips parted. He had hung it there again after you moved it before you left for your class yesterday. It was where it belonged.

"Thanks," you whispered. 

----------------------

As soon as Bradley left, you could feel your body sagging. You watched Noah color while you took a minute to catch your breath. A second date wasn't the most serious thing in the world, but you needed to get over him now. Before it got any worse. Because even if not with Amanda, there would eventually be a third date, and a fourth, and a sleepover, and a relationship. 

You felt sick now. 

"Can you color that dog green?" Noah asked, looking at you with his sweet face and handing you a crayon. "What's wrong?" he asked, climbing into your lap and mispronouncing your name.

"Nothing is wrong, Noah. I get to color with you and make you dinner."

He settled back onto the floor and said, "I wanted daddy to stay here tonight."

You sighed. "That would have been nice." You wondered what this woman looked like. She must have been pretty. Most of the women you saw messaging had pretty profile photos. They all looked like real adults, too. Women who had established careers, and maybe kids of their own. The kind of woman Bradley was looking for. 

"Are you hungry?" you asked Noah. "Want me to make you some spaghetti?"

You tried your best not to let your thoughts stray to Bradley, but when you opened the refrigerator to get some milk out for Noah, you saw that Bradley had purchased two more bottles of the French vanilla coffee creamer. You knew he must have preferred hazelnut, but he seemed to have switched to your favorite flavor. 

You slammed the door shut hard enough that Noah jumped in his seat. "Sorry," you whispered, kissing the top of his head and pouring him some milk. "Okay, time for spaghetti."

Apparently Bradley liked you well enough to keep you coming back to babysit, but not enough that he would kiss you again when he wasn't drunk and rambling about how pretty he thought you were. 

----------------------

Amanda was snuggled up against Bradley on the picnic blanket she had brought. He was already sitting awkwardly as it was, and now his back was starting to hurt as she was pressing her body along his arm. He could feel her breasts rubbing against his bicep, and he wasn't sure what he should do about it. 

"Mind if I lay back?" he asked, feeling like this date was not going as well as dinner had two nights ago.

"Sounds good," Amanda practically purred, planting her palm against his chest and pushing Bradley back. When he propped his arm behind his head, he was still able to see the gigantic screen that had been set up in the park, but soon Amanda was laying on his chest, blocking the view.

"Oh, okay," he whispered, and she smiled, resting her chin on his chest.

"I mean, we weren't really watching it anyway, right?" Amanda asked, and a really adorable smile lit up her face as she licked her lips. She was pretty. And now she was scooting up along his body, her dress pulling a bit, exposing more of the tops of her breasts. 

Bradley swallowed hard, and then her lips were on his. She pushed her fingers into his hair, but it kind of tickled more than anything, and Bradley was barely returning the kiss. It wasn't bad, but he also had no problem keeping both hands tucked underneath his head. 

Amanda moaned softly, and he supposed it would have been enough to get him going, but now he was thinking about how his bed still smelled like you. When he tried to go to sleep later, he was probably going to get hard again. Harder than Amanda would be able to get him with her mouth on him. 

Bradley pulled back a tiny bit, and thankfully his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Gotta check that, sorry," he muttered, unlocking his phone to see that you had sent him an image. He opened it with a pounding heart and clumsy fingers, revealing a photo of Noah in his crown, writing DADDY on a sheet of yellow construction paper. 

Bradley just wanted to be at home. 

"Everything okay?" Amanda asked, sounding a little impatient.  

"Uh, yeah. One second," he mumbled, sending you a text back.

Are you wearing your crown too?

Almost instantly you wrote back to him, and Bradley was excited to see another photo of you in your crown. But he didn't get one.

Babysitter: No. I'm not feeling like much of a princess tonight. Enjoy your date.

Bradley sat up again, not sure why that bothered him so much. 

"What's wrong?" Amanda asked. 

"Nothing," he insisted, and then she was touching him again, her lips gliding along his neck. 

"Good," she whispered, running her hand along his arm and lacing her fingers with his. And then thankfully the credits started rolling, and everyone on the neighboring blankets started to stand up. 

"Movie's over," Bradley said like a straight up dunce, getting to his feet and pulling Amanda up as well. He checked his phone again. It was almost 10:30 and you hadn't said anything else to him. 

"Oh, well, it's early. How about we go get dessert or coffee?" Amanda asked, insisting on keeping her fingers linked with his. "Or.... I could show you my place?"

Bradley just grunted. "I need to get back to my babysitter."

"Right," Amanda replied. "Walk me to my car?"

Bradley nodded, and managed to get her in her car only after she kissed him and rubbed herself against the front of his body. She moaned into his mouth, and Bradley honestly didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. She was perfect, and she was clearly keen on fucking him. 

He broke away, and when he was about to tell her good night, she said, "Call me and we can set up another date." But he just nodded and started to head for his Bronco. 

-----------------------

After you gave Noah a bath and got him changed into pajamas, you and he shared a snack. 

"Can you teach my dad how to make the ants on the logs?" he asked as you carried him to his bed.

You chuckled. "I can try, Noah, but I don't know if he could even handle doing that much in the kitchen."

Noah sighed and snuggled in with his stuffed animals. "The food is better with you here," he said with a yawn, and you rubbed his back until he was sleeping. 

Then you went about your routine of picking up toys, cleaning the kitchen, and getting some food prepared for the boys. Because even if it broke your heart to know that Bradley didn't want you, there was just no way you could leave him and Noah hanging. You started by making more carrot sticks for them, and then you moved on to a few dinners before curling up on the couch with your textbooks and some Skittles. 

Bradley's date must have been going well. It was pretty late, and you were trying not to think about it. You had clinicals coming up, and you needed to study. You made it about thirty minutes into your reading by the time you thought you heard Bradley pulling into the driveway. And when he rushed inside you looked up at him, just as you popped an orange Skittle into your mouth. 

"Princess," he muttered, smiling softly at you. 

"Bradley."

"Why aren't you wearing your crown?" he asked, closing the door behind him, but never taking his eyes off you.

You laughed, popping two yellow Skittles between your lips as you closed up your book and put it in your bag. "Why aren't you still on your date?"

"I asked you first," he insisted, and you rolled your eyes. 

"I just felt more like a peasant than a princess. That's all. Now, why are you home already?"

Bradley's brow was scrunched as he sat down right in the middle of the couch, his leg rubbing yours as you immediately stood. He looked up at you, saying, "I'm not really sure." He eyed you up and down where you stood in front of him, like you were on display for his eyes only. "And you're no peasant."

His gaze was making you feel warm as you ate the last Skittle and dropped the wrapper into your bag. "I guess you're the peasant. No Skittles for you tonight," you told him. But he just responded by licking his lips. 

"I don't deserve any," he told you, and you watched his huge hands as they slowly rubbed up and down his thighs. You thought about climbing in his lap, kissing him and letting him get a taste of the candy after all. 

Instead you told him, "You'll let me know when you're going on your third date, and I'll come over to stay with Noah." And then you hoisted your bag up higher on your shoulder. 

"I don't think there's going to be a third date," he told you, his voice so deep now, it reminded you of when you heard him in the kitchen early yesterday morning. 

"Oh." You weren't sure what to think about that. You'd psyched yourself up all night long, gotten used to the fact that this Amanda woman was going to be getting to sleep in his bed with him, unlike you. And now, maybe that wasn't actually the case. "What's the problem? She tell you she hates salad dressing?"

He shook his head. "Worse. She was pretty and nice and funny, but I didn't want to touch her."

"That's a shame," you whispered, remembering exactly how his hands and his kisses felt. "Well. You know how to reach me." Bradley was staring at your lips as you turned to leave, and you pulled the door closed behind you without another glance at him. 

---------------------

Bradley was about to beg you to stay. You were the same, still funny, witty and sharp as a tack, but he could tell you were irritated with him. He wanted to get you back to joking around in the kitchen with him. He wanted to kiss you again, push you up against his furniture. While he was sober, so you knew he meant it. 

But you were turning to leave, and he wasn't sure when you'd be back, because he didn't have any more dates planned. And he couldn't make himself want Amanda, no matter how hard he tried. 

Just as he was about to suggest you stay and have a beer with him, you were turning to leave without gracing him with another glimpse of your pretty face.

"Fuck," he groaned as the door closed behind you. "You fucking idiot," he growled, picturing those Skittles brushing against your lips before you crunched on them. He rubbed his hand along his dick through his jeans. He was hard and getting harder now, and that's when he caught sight of your hoodie on the couch next to him.

Bradley grabbed it and buried his face in it, inhaling the wildflower smell and stroking himself again. "Princess," he grunted, running his nose along the fabric. "Oh, fuck."

He unbuttoned his jeans and eased the zipper down, knowing there was only one way he was going to get a little bit of relief, short of enjoying your body right now. With one more deep inhale, Bradley let his hand glide down his abs, ready to pull his jeans down. He groaned your name this time. And then the front door opened again.

"I forgot my hoodie- Oh!" you gasped, eyes wide as you took in the sight before you. Bradley had his hand close to his cock, and your shirt was balled up in his fist, near his nose.

He was hoping you'd just turn around and leave again, pretend you didn't see any of this. He was completely mortified as he dropped your hoodie to try to cover his open zipper and his underwear from your view. At least he hadn't pulled himself out yet.

But instead of leaving, you pushed the door closed, with you firmly inside his house. You took a delicate step toward him, nibbling on your lip with your eyes trained on his. 

"Were you saying my name?" you asked softly, taking another step in his direction. He was so mesmerized by your body, with your bare legs on display, he started nodding before he could stop himself. 

"Yeah, Princess," he groaned, and he knew his cheeks must be bright red.

He watched you reach up and touch your neck. "Shouldn't you be moaning Amanda's name?" you whispered, and Bradley was treated to the sight of you pressing your fingertips to your lips. 

He just shook his head, and now you were standing right in front of him, so close he could touch you. You knew now. He was certain you knew exactly what you were doing to him. There was no turning back. 

"No, Princess. Amanda doesn't make me hard like you do."

"You were thinking about me?"

Bradley nodded. "That's the problem. I can't stop thinking about you." He couldn't believe he said that. He was going to die of mortification. 

But you whimpered, and Bradley was bucking up against nothing as your eyes dropped to his barely concealed erection. 

You bent at the waist, resting both of your palms on his knees, and Bradley was treated to a nice view down your shirt. You licked your lips, and he was about to lean forward and kiss you as you said, "I can help you with that. If you want."

Then you slowly pulled your hoodie off of his lap and glanced down. Bradley's cock was hard and huge, aching as you were touching him now. Before he could answer, he watched you sink down to your knees and settle in between his splayed legs. You were rubbing his thighs through his jeans, and his heart was pounding so hard, he thought he might pass out. 

Your voice was so soft and sweet. "Do you want me to?"

The only thing Bradley wanted was for you to take care of this for him. For him to be able to feel your hands on his body. He groaned as you ran your fingers up and over his cock, squeezing him through his jeans. 

"Oh, yeah, Princess. Please."

And then you were guiding his jeans and underwear down until he was springing to attention, finally free from the tight fabric. 

Your glossy lips were parted, and your eyes were wide as you reached for him, wrapping one hand gently around his length. You stroked him once, and Bradley almost shot up off the couch, it felt so good. 

Then you kissed his tip, swiping his precum away with your tongue, and Bradley was leaning forward and tipping your chin up to meet his eyes. 

"Princess," he groaned, running his thumb along your lips. "You done this before?" He wanted you so badly, but he couldn't stand the thought of this being your first foray into oral sex. He was simply too far gone for something so delicate. 

You parted your lips and licked his thumb with a smirk. "Yeah. Once or twice, Bradley." Your tone was sarcastic, and he throbbed in your hand. "I am in college, you know. I'll take excellent care of you, I promise," you whispered, kissing his tip again while you kept eye contact with him.

"Yeah," he grunted. "That's what I'm afraid of." He stroked your cheek, watching your every move intently. When your perfect lips parted and wrapped around his cock, Bradley ran both of his hands through his hair before fisting them at his sides. You were barely sucking on him, just the tip, but it felt so fucking good he was already panting. 

When your tongue popped out to swirl around him, he tipped his head back and groaned. "Princess," he hissed, his cock leaping in your hand as you let your thumb trail down his full length to his balls. "Goddamn it."

He watched you smirk and open your mouth wider, taking as much of him as you could. You bobbed on his length, pushing him deep enough that you were starting to gag. And that was it; Bradley's hands flew to your face, stroking your cheeks softly with his fingers before pushing back along your hair.

You watched his face as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked harder. "Oh, fuck," he growled, neck and shoulders straining against the urge to fuck your face until he came. He didn't want to do that, not right now, because this slow agony you were putting him through was fucking fantastic. 

When you slowly dragged your lips back to his tip and popped him out of your mouth, Bradley was treated to the sight of your wide eyes and your tongue peeking out to wet your lips. You looked so fucking innocent. So young. So filthy with your tongue laving along the underside of his cock, keeping him nice and wet. 

Then you moaned softly, and Bradley hissed your name. 

You eyes met his with a soft, hazy look as you ran the tip of your nose down to his balls. "God, you're so big," you whispered, kissing him there. "Are all Daddys this big?" you asked him. 

Bradley pulled gently on your hair, tipping your head back to look at him, keeping you steady with his other hand on your neck. The softest sound escaped your parted lips as he leaned forward a bit. "Call me Daddy again."

Your lip trembled as you nodded with Bradley's hand tight around a fistful of your hair. "Okay. Daddy."

His primal moan filled the living room, as he watched you rub your cheek against the angry, red head of his cock. 

Then your perfect lips were on him again, your tongue treating him to sensations he couldn't ever remember feeling. He tried to keep his hands gentle on your face and hair, but you felt too good. He found himself guiding you a little slower, needing to make this last as long as physically possible.

You took him until you gagged again, and Bradley was seeing stars. "You're so fucking good, Princess," he groaned, but that just seemed to egg you on as you went harder. Bradley watched you take him impossibly deeper, feeling the rub of your throat along his tip. He could feel himself moving against your throat where his hand was now gripping you, and he just gaped at you, mouth hanging wide open as you licked and sucked. 

When you released him again, you used both hands to stroke him as you kissed the tip. "Do you like this, Daddy?"

Bradley's eyes were practically rolling back in his head. "Oh yeah," he grunted, thrusting up into your palm as you tickled and squeezed his balls in one small hand. 

"Do you want to cum in my mouth?" you asked him, eyes glittering as you kitten licked along his cock. He was throbbing in time with your little licks and kisses, and he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. 

"God, baby. So bad," he grunted, pushing you down gently with his palm on the back of your head. He saw you grin and heard you giggle, and he couldn't get enough. When you parted your lips for him, you guided him toward your plush tongue, tapping him against you there. Then you wrapped your mouth around him once more, and Bradley knew he wasn't going to last long. 

The obscene, wet sounds. Your soft moans. The vibrations along his dick. You were bobbing hard and fast now as he chanted Princess.... Princess!

You took him so deep, he could feel your lip and you saliva on his tightening balls as you sucked him hard. He knew his fingers were digging into your scalp, and you were squeezing his hip now. When your gaze met his, Bradley really felt his control slipping. 

"No, no, no," he whispered, wanting this to last forever. It was so good. You were too good at this. And he would be lying to himself if he said your pretty, innocent looking face wasn't making him even harder for you. 

You must have been able to tell he was close when you wrapped one hand around the base of him. You swirled your tongue while you jerked your mouth around him with such finesse, Bradley couldn't believe you were only twenty four. "So fucking good," he groaned. "God damn it!"

And then you took him like a champ, all of his thrusts hit the back of your throat, but you barely flinched, keeping your gaze on his. Your eyes were watering now, and you whimpered as he filled your mouth and throat up with his hot cum. 

It had been so long since he had been with a woman, but he didn't think he'd ever had an orgasm that lasted this long. He was still groaning, fingers gentle at the back of your head as you swallowed him down. Then you came back for more, slowly gliding your mouth back down his length before popping him out again. 

He whispered, "Princess. Fuck," as he watched you lick up the additional beads of cum that you coaxed out of him. And then Bradley was spent, sitting back against the couch in a daze. He stroked his fingers along your cheek and chin, caressing you as you continued to lovingly kiss and lick his cock as he started to grow soft in your hands. 

"You okay, Daddy?" you asked him, wiping up some of his cum from the corner of your lips.

"Princess," he whispered as you nuzzled against his hand. "You learned a lot in college, huh?"

You just giggled, and reached your finger out to his lips. Bradley opened his mouth for you, and licked up his own cum, loving the look in your half lidded eyes. He watched you lick your finger after he was done with it, and then you stood up. He thought about asking you to stay with him, but instead he just sat there with his cock hanging out and watched you pull on your hoodie. 

"Let me know when you need me again," you told him with a smirk before leaning down and kissing his forehead. Then you left again without another word. 

--------------------------

Bradley got his dick wet with the babysitter. Bye, Amanda. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[heroesrest64]

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1

Chapter 2: Ghost Hunt

Chapter Summary: Meeting the rest of the residents in your house, and trying to figure out how to talk to each of them.

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

A list of temporary nickname for the boys (stg we’ll be back to the regularly scheduled LU nicknames soon)

WW Link/ Wind- Puddles

SS Link/ Sky- Dreamer

ALttP Link/ Legend- Whisper

BotW Link/ Wild- Spice

OoT Link/ Time- Time

LoZ Link/ Hyrule- Zeus

FS Link/ Four- Winter

TP Link/ Twilight- Jimmy

Your first stop is your bedroom, where a small puddle forms on your bed. You complain very loudly about the turn of events, berating the ghost who you decide to call ‘Puddles’ for making a mess on your bed. You get the distinct feeling that he sticks his tongue out at you childishly in response.

“Okay, whatever. I’ll clean it up later. It seems like you’re saying there’s another ghost in here?” You suggest, but obviously get no response. You think for a second, trying to figure out how to communicate with a ghost who can only cause water to form.

“Okay how about this. Put one droplet of water in my palm if yes, two if no.” You hold out your hand. A single drop of water lands on your palm, making you shiver, but you grin, happy to see your plan worked.

“Nice! Okay, this will work. The ghost here,” You pause, wondering how to ask a yes or no question about the ghosts powers, “do they make the room cold?” You ask. Two drops, that’s a no. “Okay, uh… do they cause wierd dreams?” One droplet. So whoever’s in here is the culprit for about half of your sleepless nights.

“Ah, nice to meet you, then. I’ll call you… Dreamer, I guess? Does that sound okay?” You call into the room. A single drop places itself on your palm, and you hazard a smile towards the bed.

“Cool. It’s nice to meet you, Dreamer.” You nod your head once before once again following the water prints out of your room. It’s kind of weird to think that a ghost just casually sleeps in your bed, but your life is turning out to be weirder than you ever thought possible, so you just aren’t going to think about it.

Your next stop is the spare room in the house that you decided to make into your office space. It’s at the end of the hallway in the house, and where you’re pretty sure Whisper’s voice comes from. Sure enough, when you go inside, there’s absolutely nothing to see. Because. Y’know. Whisper’s a ghost.

“Is this Whisper's room?” You ask. A drop of water wets your hand. “Cool. Hi, Whisper! Hope we’re not interrupting.” No response. Can he only talk at night? That might explain a lot.

“Well, I guess we’ll speak more later. Bye, Whisper.”

And so you move on. Next is the kitchen, where Puddles zooms over to the spice rack. “Oh yes, our resident chef. How are you, Spice?” You greet, and the ghost pushes forward your bowl of sugar. Despite previous attempts to get them to spell out words with the first letter of each spice, they refuse. Instead, you have to kind of just… feel out their intentions. You’re pretty sure the sugar means they’re ’feeling good’.

“Nice. Puddles is taking me to meet everyone. Apparently there are nine of you?” You quirk a brow curiously. The Thyme bottle is pushed forward, as well as your bottle of honey, for some reason.

“I don’t get it.” You admit, only to feel some water droplets on your head, catching your attention. A trail of water guides you to the clock on your stove, which is flashing the exact wrong time on its screen.

“The time?” You ask, before things start to click. Thyme, the clock not working- “The clock ghost! Ahh! They’re in here, too?” You ask, excited at the news. The clock flicks up two minutes, and you’re happy at the new method of communication.

“Perfect! I guess two minutes would mean yes, can you do three minutes for no?” You ask, and the clock changes by two minutes again. “Great. Now a nickname- Time, maybe? That’s what Spice called you.” Two more minutes. That’s a yes from your new friend. “Good. nice to meet you, Time.”

That just leaves the question of the honey jar. “Does the honey signify someone else?” You ask. The lights flicker in response. “Haha I guess that’s a yes. So you’re the one playing with my electronics. As for your nickname… Lightning? Oh man I suck at naming people.” You press a hand to your head. The lights turn off and on once as if to agree.

“Fine, fine. You shall be… Zeus. Like the god of lightning.” You decide. The lights flicker once, which you take as an agreement. “Good cause I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Puddles begins leading you out of the kitchen after that final interaction, taking you to the living room where a sudden chill fills the air. Knowing what you do now, you immediately assume the change in temperature is a new ghost. “Okay. Ghost number eight. This is the one that keeps making me think my air conditioning is broken.” You whisper, walking further into the living room. The cold spot moves closer, until your entire front can feel it.

“Hello, new ghost. I’m just going around properly meeting everybody today. Obviously I can’t keep calling you Ghost, so… man I’m really running out of good names over here. I kinda just wanna call you Frosty.” You wince, insulted for your new friend on their behalf. Even you wouldn’t want to be called Frosty, and you’re the one who came up with the name.

“Nevermind, forget I ever said that. I’m so sorry. Uhh!!! Winter. Yeah, that’s way better.” You decide. It even sounds like an actual name. A little. You decide not to think about it.

Something so intensely cold it feels like you’re being stabbed with ice presses into your arm, but only for a second. You gasp at the feeling, rubbing your arm to get the feeling back into it.

“That… was that a yes?” You ask, still rubbing at your arm. It feels way too raw now, and you try to brush it off, only to feel the same sensation once again.

“Ah. Okay, cool. Winter it is.” You mumble, shaking out your arm and looking towards where you last saw Puddles. He begins walking once more, guiding you back through the kitchen then into your backyard. The puddles stop right at the threshold, and you glance around, not seeing anything else.

“Oh. Can you not leave the house, Puddles?” You ask, leaning back into your house. Two droplets land on your hand, and you nod in understanding.

“Okay. I’ll find the last one by myself. Thanks for your help so far.” You nod your head, and turn to exit your house properly this time.

The ghost out here must be the one making the animals in your neighborhood look at you as you try to leave your house.

“Alright. Final ghost. How does one talk to an animal controlling ghost…” You mumble, walking through the unkempt backyard. You’re too intimidated by the crows and their piercing eyes to really wander outside.

Rightly so as a giant crow flutters down, landing just a couple feet in front of you and starts talking.

“Hello~”

You scream. You scream so loud the neighbors hazard to peek over their gate and find you cowering on the floor as a crow continues to greet you like an old friend.

“Oh, that’s just Jimmy. He’s domesticated, completely harmless.” The man explains. Convenient. You now have a partial explanation for this talking crow, but you don’t know why it’s greeting you in the first place.

“Please, Jimmy, mercy.” You weep. Surprisingly, the crow backs off, hopping away a couple steps while you sniffle and return to a respectable standing position.

“Ahem. Please ignore all of that. It’s nice to meet you, Jimmy.” You brush yourself off, dipping your head in greeting to the bird. It stares you down before opening its beak and letting out a strange clicking sound.

“I’m going to assume that’s you returning my greeting and not some sort of death threat. Say, have you seen a ghost around here?” You ask, crouching down to be more level with the bird. Jimmy’s feathers puff up, and he proudly announces “Me!” Before hopping off once again.

So the final ghost is possessing this bird. Good to know. Does that make the final ghost’s name Jimmy, or..?

“Cool. I’m going inside now to take a nice long nap.” You decide, turning on your heel and reentering your house. That’s quite enough socializing with the undead for one day.

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (11)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, fluff, bitchy collegue

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (10)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Over the next week, you’re a busy bee. You work harder than ever before to make sure you can take Friday off. Bucky invited you for dinner at his place, and you don’t want to miss your second date for anything in the world.

“Look at our cheery co-worker,” your colleague huffs as you whistle a tune while printing more copies. Only thinking of Bucky and the perfect date you had makes you smile. She can’t ruin your mood.

“A good morning for you too,” you chirp but don’t turn around. Her sour mood is not your problem. It’s not your job to cheer her up. You tried so often, but she only got bitchier whenever you offered your help or tried to be nice.

“Why are you so cheery on a Wednesday morning,” she snarls and stands a little closer. While she looks over your shoulder at the copier, you smile to yourself. If you told her about your date, Alpine and Bucky, your colleague would find a way to ruin it for you too. “Did something good happen over the last days?”

You bite your tongue before you can tell her about your date and Bucky. She’s a nosy bitch and would spread rumors about you and your date without a doubt.

“Nothing special,” you lie, and focus on finishing your task. There’s more than enough to do today, and you don’t have time to entertain her.

“You’re chirping like a little bird, and flutter around the office just the same. I wonder what got into you, is all,” she presses on, determined to find out about the cause of your happiness.”

“I got a new plant,” you say to stop her from asking more questions. The last thing you need is that you accidentally tell her about Bucky.

“I bet it has something to do with your secret admirer. Did he send you more than flowers this time? Lingerie? Dick pics.”

You grit your teeth and exhale sharply. How can she talk like that about your secret admirer? He’d never do such a thing. Your secret admirer is a gentleman, not some creep sending your lingerie or dick pics.

Your colleague keeps on nagging about work, your secret admirer, and life in general. Just like before, you ignore her. No one is going to ruin your mood, or the happiness you feel because of your date with Bucky.

Only the thought of him makes everything better. Your day. Your nights. Your whole life.

She can’t bring you down or take your happiness away from you. Walking away, the copies tugged under your arm you smile sweetly at your colleague. “I need to go back to my desk. If you have any more questions, please make an appointment.”

She gives you the stinky eye, but you don’t care.

“Alpine, we need to clean this place. It must be sparkling clean when Y/N comes here for our date,” Bucky rummages inside the kitchen, looking for a cleaner. “Alpine, no more making the floor dirty. Stop hiding your toys in every corner, punk.”

Alpine hisses at the bucket stand on the floor. The white furball walks past Bucky to jump onto the sofa and get comfortable in their favorite spot.

“Hey, help me here. You want her to like you too, right?” Bucky cocks his head to look at his cat. “Punk, if we want to bring her into our life, you should put more effort into winning her over.”

Bucky furrows his brows. He looks at the bucket and then at the cleaner, deciding to try this new direction first. If dates and love confession won’t work out, he can still let the darker thoughts take over and bring you away.

Maybe convincing you to move in with him isn’t going to work out. Maybe, just maybe he should stick to his original plan and take you away from the life you’re living to give you a better one.

“Hmm…ladies. What do you think?” You pose in front of your plushies while trying on another dress. “No, that’s not the one.” Sighing deeply, you strip off the dress to toss it onto the bed to join the pile of clothing.

Again, you walk toward your wardrobe to get the next dress out. In a few days, you’ve got the next date with Bucky, and you want to look beautiful for him.

Grabbing another dress in fifties style you frown. What if Bucky doesn’t like your style? Maybe you should try something sexier on.  

You shake your head. No. Bucky is not like that. He’s a gentleman and admired the dress you wore for your first date more than once.

“What do you say, this one?” You take your favorite dress out. A rockabilly fifties swing dress, adorned with a beautiful cream-colored floral print and pastel green foliage on a pale salmon pink background. The dress boasts cute, capped sleeves and a ruched chest panel. It’s the perfect mix of cute and stylish. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Your plushies can’t help you decide. Of course, they can’t. You already know that the dress is the perfect choice for your date with Bucky. If he doesn’t make a move on Friday night, you’ll be damned…

Part 12

Tags in reblog.

[emogigi]

clearing the puck!

pairing: hockey player!haechan x fem!reader

genre: a fluffly crackfic w a bit of angst? i guess lol

word count: 1.5k (for now..)

synopsis: you befriend the school’s star hockey player in order to get some votes on your student council campaign, and in return, he asks for praise on your newest journal column to impress some scouts. what a friendly deal, right? …right?

author’s note: hey everyone! this is my first ever fic here and i couldn’t be more excited !! this is just a little wip of what could possibly become my biggest work … just to test the waters lmao if you have any tips PLEASE let me know since i actually hate how this is written! anyways i hope u like this bit! ♡

warning(s): none, for now

"Please stop shaking your legs. You're making the entire table move." Renjun gives you a nasty look, and you roll your eyes. You shake your legs even faster, just to push at his buttons a little harder. "Ugh— Stop that!"

"Maybe if you guys were helping me prepare, I wouldn't be so nervous!" You let out an angry huff as you stared at your computer screen, which was blindingly bright. Why are you still insisting on using light mode? Stupid student council elections and stupid columnist work. What use was it if you couldn't even complete a stupid campaign work?

"Y'know it's no use if you're a loner, right?" Chenle perks up from the other side of the room, his body strewn on a spinning chair as he turns around in your direction. He doesn't even dare to look up from his phone, his thumbs messily pressing against the screen. Was he playing Clash of Clans again? "You kinda have to be popular to gain votes. And, contrary to popular belief, I don’t do miracles.

"What do you mean? I'm popular!" You scoff in disbelief, looking over to Renjun for moral support, but he simply shakes his head. Huang Renjun, you are useless.

"Writing a column for our college journal doesn't make you popular."

You grunt in frustration, dropping your head to your keyboard. You let out a long sigh before slamming both of your hands on the table and looking up. The loud crash startles both boys, and they glance at you with wide eyes. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Chenle and Renjun look at each other and back at you, and you swear there’s a mischievous glint behind their eyes.

You’re never listening to them again. Especially if it’s fucking freezing outside!

You let out a sigh that quickly transforms into a puff of cold air as you look around, spotting the banner hung up above the building entrance. “66 LEE DONGHYUCK — THE NCIT DINOSAURS STAR CENTER” with his face nicely printed on the side. Inspecting his face, you almost laugh at the stupidity of the plan. Befriending the school’s star hockey player in order to socially thrive. Well, befriending is a strong word. You would be offering him a friendly deal, that’s for sure. And it’s not like he would be leaving empty-handed. It’s a win-win situation.

You sucked in a deep breath between your teeth before walking straight into the ice rink. You could hear shouting and the sound of the puck sliding neatly across the ice. It didn’t even take you long to notice your target. You watched him for a while. He’s obviously a natural, every move purposeful and graceful. No wonder he was the team’s star.

You quickly look away when you notice yourself staring. Shit.

Figuring it would be better to just wait until practice was over, you hopped on the grandstands, next to a group of 3 girls that you recognized from around the campus. They were wearing the team’s classic red and blue jersey with a big “66” plastered at the front.

You jumped in your seat with their hysterical screaming, quickly turning your head back to the rink. Donghyuck was planted by the fence, looking up at the benches, winking and flashing his infamous cocky smirk at the girls. You could swear that his gaze lingered on yours for a while, but you shook your head, dismissing the thought. As he finally moved away, the girl sitting directly next to you still shook her arms to get his attention.

Practice went by surprisingly fast, much to your dismay. The coach whistled and next thing you notice, the team was already off the ice. Everyone around patted Donghyuck on the back and sang praise at the boy, who just grinned. A slightly taller, and what appeared older guy, swiftly threw his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, revealing the back of his jersey. “MARK, 2”. You couldn’t distinctly understand what they were saying but you could only assume that he was teasing the blonde, the way Donghyuck seemed to sulk at his words. As Mark started pushing Donghyuck to walk away to the locker room, you panic, afraid to miss your shot to talk to the blonde.

“LEE DONGHYUCK!” Your shout reverberates all throughout the rink. Your survival instincts really took over this one. Good work on first impressions! You feel your cheeks heat up as all eyes are now on you. You both stare at each other with wide eyes. How you wished you could just dig the biggest hole on the ground to hide yourself forever.

“Uh, yes?” He asks reluctantly, looking around as if he wasn’t the only Lee Donghyuck there. “Can I help you?”

“Uhm— Yes! I need to talk to you.” You internally curse at yourself for stuttering so much. “Alone. If— If that’s alright.”

Mark, who still stood next to his friend, looks over at him. Donghyuck nods at the rest of the team and gives off some kind of excuse, sending them on their way. They reluctantly walk away, leaving you both alone by the grandstands.

You feel your stomach turn as you watch him approach you, practice bag messily thrown over his shoulder.

“What’s up?” He’s rather calm for someone who just got shouted at by a complete stranger.

You gulp. Is this really a good idea? He notices your hesitation and raises his eyebrows, gesturing for you to talk.

“Well— This is going to sound really weird… But we need to be friends from now on.”

He freezes in his spot, obviously taken aback by your offer. He looks at you with a confused frown until something clicks in his head. His pursed lips curve into a smile and he scoffs at you. “Look, I get it if you have a crush on me, but you’re horrible at this.”

What? You quickly wave your hands dismissively in front of him, shaking your head. “That’s not it!”

“Then what is it?”

You sigh and stare back at him, shit-eating smirk plastered on his face. Well, you asked for it, Lee Donghyuck.

“As you probably don’t know, the student council elections are coming up and I’m running for president. The problem is that, according to my friends, I’m not “popular” enough to get voted on. And since you’re probably the most popular person in this school, if I become friends with you, I’ll be popular by association, which means I might actually have a shot at the elections. Obviously, I know that this is a weird request but we can make some sort of deal — If you’re up for it.” After a completely venting (and probably rapping) at him, Donghyuck stares at you dumbfounded. Great, now you scared him.

Seeing the look on his face, a wave of failure washes over you and suddenly you’re rethinking everything. You knew this was a stupid plan for the start. Oh, Huang Renjun. You were going to kill him! You have embarrassed yourself astronomically and now you could say goodbye to your dear presidential spot—

“Okay.”

Okay? “Okay?”

“Sure. Why not?” You look at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion and he just shrugs. “Plus, you said that we could make a deal.” Of course. He was only interested because he was getting something out of it. You’re a smart man, Lee Donghyuck.

“Yeah— sure. Do you have anything in mind?” He seems to stop for a moment, briefing on what to say. You look at him impatiently, tapping your fingers rhythmically against your arm.

“You write a column for the school’s journal, right? Isn’t it something like… “Like It Is”? Yeah, that’s it.”

“How did you— Whatever. What do you need?” His smirk grows bigger as he stares back at you.

“We have a few NHL scouts coming over for the playoffs.” He crosses his arms. “To add up to my amazing playing skills, I need you to write a column about me. Y’know, to impress them.”

“And what makes you think that they’ll listen to me?”

“Because you actually write things as they are.” He sniffs. “You have an honest reputation around the school. They’ll believe you.” You ponder.

“Well, I–” Donghyuck quickly turns around as someone calls out his name.

“As much as I would love to continue our lovely convo, I have to go. Lovely seeing you, (---).” He prepares to walk away but quickly turns back. “You have my Insta, right?” You simply nod in response and he smiles, finally walking to the locker room.

“Bye bye, my sweetheart!”

“Wait, Donghyuck— That’s not—!”

Before you can say anything, you’re all alone in the rink.