#put that tongue away stat

[mattymartin]

↳ NOAH DOBSON AND MATT MARTIN AT RYAN PULOCK’S WEDDING | 6.29.24

[wonryllis]

WHEN THEY GET CAUGHT KISSING YOU.

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen kissing their situationship and boom! caught. contains fem!r, kissing & kissing, embarrassed & bold enha, suggestive pg 16. wc 3090 ㅠㅠ, 420 something each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat agora hills inspo.

𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖧𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖢𝖠𝖴𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖴𝖲──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

“they won't find us i promise,” heeseung tries to reassure you, taking a step forward and closing the already negligible space between the two of you. the light from the vents at the top shinning right into his eyes and onto your lips. janitor's closet― your gaze boring into his brown orbs; his falling onto your gloss glimmering against the dark― a kiss that steals your breath.

his arms pull you close by the curve of your waist, gripping the flesh as the kiss grows intense, heavy breaths and sloppy tongues.

“why are we even hiding?” you pant out between the kisses, holding him close and as hooked onto the whole idea of a secret thing. this was lee heeseung. no, this is him. secret flings and hookups, no strings attached & no efforts to make it work. at least that's what you knew of him.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, looking straight into your eyes,“i thought you liked it? the whole ‘keeping it a secret’, the thrill of trying not to get caught?” but here he is, doing things you supposedly like, putting in effort.

“isn't this how you are?” casual, clandestine and off the record defined him in your world. “no god, not with you,” his voice is rasp with defence, words tumbling out in a brisk edge. he is not what you think he is. and to him you are so much more than you ever could imagine to be. his lips brush against yours,”i could never be that with you. i want you so much, you have no idea.” and he goes in for another kiss, this time more intimate and deep.

“i swear i saw him go in here!” sunoo's voice echoes outside in the corridor, “what would he even be doing in there?” and before you both can even register the situation, too lost in the kiss, jay hurtles the door open.

you immediately push heeseung away, his steps languid as he staggers back slightly. annoyed and frustrated at his friends for ruining the moment.

jay stands still by the door, holding it open while sunoo comes over to see what's going on. catching sight of the disheveled appearances and gasping breaths, smudged gloss and flushed faces― and a very bummed out heeseung running his fingers through his hair, throwing glare after glare.

“y'all were..” the two intruders trail off in shock. which only intensifies after heeseung slams the door shut in their faces,”busy.” and gets busy with you again.

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

“are you sure the windows are tinted?” your question throws jay off for a second, of course it's valid to be worried about that. but you are literally in an empty parking lot, only about to kiss, not commit a crime or violate the laws of human decency. it'll just be a kiss, right?

“i’m sure, now come here,” his fingers wrap around your wrist, urging you to get onto his lap in the driver's seat. sighing in contentment once he feels you settle down comfortably. hands immediately reaching up to your waist in a delicate embrace. “don’t worry so much,” his voice is soft and calm, a high contrast to his heart skipping lanes in his chest.

“just think about me, focus on me,” words barely above a whisper before he kisses you.

his lips are chapped yet when they move against your own, they feel soft; a hint of champagne and waft of honey, floral notes and fruity taste of his drink from earlier at the after party. your hands slide around the back of his neck, tugging at the strands of his hair. faint sighs and low gasps fill the air, the tight space feeling sultry, growing fervid by the second.

it's dream-like, way too good and like floating in the clouds but the loud ringing of jay's phone snaps you both out of it.

riki is calling, the screen shows. he should probably pick it up. he should. yet you both collectively decide he can wait. everyone and everything besides the kiss can wait.

and that turns out to be a mistake. for not even five seconds into the second kiss, there's a thud against the window, riki’s face planted on the glass as he tries to look in,”he's in here jake!” he shouts in a quick look over behind him.

it startles you both, flinching out of the kiss. “jay you sai―” at your instant panic, jay is quick to shush you back into another kiss,”i know, i know. it really is tinted don't worry. they're just bluffing,” he reassures you, his mouth closing in on your top lip in a gentle suck.

“they're literally eating each other's face off! i told y'all they're probably together!” riki’s voice echoes into the parking lot, followed by jake's loud ass laugh. making both you and jay choke mid-kiss as you hop back into your seat and jay rushes out the car to keep their mouths shut.

“haven't y'all heard of privacy!” he scolds, his face hot red with embarrassment, words rolling off in a splutter.

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

“jake anyone could walk in!” you slap his chest in a protest, leaning away as he tries to pull you into a kiss again and again. ‘just a kiss’ he insists, but with you straddling his lap, his thighs spread apart and your legs on either side of him― it's impossible. this is jake sim we are talking about; and this guy, from what you have come to know, will turn anything into a makeout session.

“it's my room, they won't just barge in. trust me,” he tucks away the strands of hair falling into your face, his eyes and his voice dripping with desperation; hands moving to trail all over you in attempts to persuade you.

and it works, it takes you just one moment of recollection: the last time you made out with him, same place, same way. and you give in. how could you even resist a guy like this? if you could have, you wouldn't have been in a freaking situationship with him out of all things in the world of romance.

your lips clash against each other, like you haven't kissed in ages. mouths literally devouring and sucking the life out of the heart and the breath out of the lungs. no words exchanged, only muffled sounds and soft gasps.

“fuck your lips are so soft,” jake mumbles between the kiss,”so kissable” unable to hold his thoughts to himself. so drunk, so gone; he doesn't notice heeseung walking in on you both.

not for a few seconds at least, only bothering to cast him a glance over your shoulder before closing his eyes again. leaving heeseung with his jaw slacked, dumbfounded and stunned all at the same time. he takes it as a cue to leave and let the others know not to disturb you both. the last thing he catches glimpse of being your wide eyes realizing he had come in.

“you said no one would walk in!” you immediately complain at the sound of the door creaking close behind heeseung.

“well,” jake sits slack against the headboard, not concerned in the slightest. the amount of care jake could give in a situation like this might as well be equivalent to a speck of dust in the oh mighty universe. but he loved the way your face flushed warm at having been caught.

“it's not like we were trying to hide this. i’m pretty sure everyone already knows how things are between us,” he shrugs, holding you close; eyes locked with yours in a sultry yet genuine gaze,“and how much more things could be.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

“never took you for this type,” sunghoon grins against your lips, breath hitting your cheeks warm and uneven. enjoying the way you seem to whine about not letting you kiss him; park sunghoon is a lot of things, but tease? tease is one that gives him life. it's not him, if he doesn't tease the fuck out of you before draining your life force with a kiss that's borderline psychotic.

and right now, with you perched atop the bathroom counter of jungwon's unit with the others right in the other room― sunghoon is exactly in the mood to get the situation heated. or to be more precise, to get caught.

“you were the one who kept teasing me in front of the others! i thought you wanted to― well, isn't this what you wanted too?” you grab his collar to keep him from leaning away, grazing your lips over his to tempt him. he isn't your man yet, but you absolutely know how to have him give in.

“i do, i want it.” his hands roam across the expanse of your back, dropping down to your thighs and tugging you forward. head tilting and leaning in to capture you in a kiss. park sunghoon is a tease, definitely; but he's also whipped.

so much so, he can't resist you even with all his self control working paid overtime.

it doesn't take long for the others to notice your absence, jungwon in particular running around to find you two for dinner. looking everywhere until he hears the shuffling inside the bathroom. he knocks once. twice. and when there's no response he turns the knob finding the door unlocked (that was sunghoon!!!).

“oh my god,” jungwon's exasperates, mood turning sour with embarrassment. your eyes shoot open at his voice, instantly trying to push sunghoon away but damn this guy keeps coming back each time and pulling you into the kiss again.

his ears burning red and the veins in his neck popping out yet he still wouldn't stop. he just can't, he physical can't.

“right in my bathroom? really? and you still going?” the screws in jungwon's brain rust out at he watches the scene unfold. “so sorry, jungwon,” you manage to mumble out, hitting against sunghoon’s chest in a warning.

it only makes him trail the kisses down your jaw and along the curve of your neck, burying his face into the crook in an attempt to keep smooching you in any way he can.

“he's really sorry i swear!” you yell out between the kisses, right before jungwon closes the door.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖶𝖮𝖮

“sunoo,” you mumble in a soft whine, eyes trained on him while he works out. jealous of the dumbbells in his hand, seemingly stealing his attention off of you. his hum of response is affectionate, staring back at you in a ‘what is it?’ look.

“sunoo,” you whine again, louder this time. unable to just watch him when all you wanted was to kiss the life out of his lips. he stops mid-set, placing the weights back in their spot and walks over to where you sit at his desk. just sit and look pretty for me; god you'd do that so well.

he leans over you, hands resting on either side of the chair,”what is it that you want baby?” oh how much you loved this side of him. the side of him that made you believe this was more than it was.

your arms reach out to hook around his neck, pulling yourself up and pushing him against the edge of the desk in a desperate effort to kiss. lips pressing into his in a brief peck at first,”wanna kiss you.”

“jungwon and jake are right outside,” he warns, though not attempting to stop you at all. not even thinking of it. sitting against the edge, letting you pepper as many kisses as you want. “don't you want to kiss me?” you mutter out between the little smooches, twisting sunoo's heart with the tone of disappointment lacing your words and the loss of your touch following it.

“of course i want to baby. i always do,” his voice is low and full of yearning, the burning itch, the craze to be close again. as close as possible. his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you back against him, straight into a kiss. eyes half closed staring down at each other's mouth, parted and quite literally nibbling and sucking, far from gentle or friendly― at all in that sense.

the scent of your shampoo and the taste of your familiar lipbalm is dizzying, and sunoo wonders how he ever managed to just be a friend at one point―

“can't believe i thought you were just friends,” jake barges in, in a hurry, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you both. making sunoo pull away immediately, breathless and sweaty as he responds as casually as he can,”did you need something?” as if he wasn't just about to shove his tongue down your throat.

“um.. yeah―” you yank sunoo back, planting sloppy kisses on his lips and jake’s words die down in a feeble whisper,”i forgot..”

“baby― i mean y/n, wait―” if sunoo wasn't embarrassed enough earlier, he definitely was beyond humanely possible right now, trying to keep you off of him while jake watched and ultimately left with a shake of his head.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

the silence in the air feels thick, stuffed full of tension. and it seems to get hotter by each passing second. your argument with jungwon hanging aloof within a myriad of questions unanswered; what are we? are we even supposed to argue like this? are we supposed to feel like this? jealous, possessive and clinging on to the ache that came along with this undefined relationship.

“i know i said i didn't want anything serious,” jungwon's voice pierces through the soft running of the tapwater behind you, shaky and choked with desire.

“but i get this rush, whenever i’m with you. it's― it's like this high i keep chasing,” he breaths out, taking slow steps towards you. cornering your figure against the kitchen counter, his head hanging low over your shoulder.

lust: one of the seven deadly sins. desire: fickle, and love: hoax and ever changing. he knew it all, so he had always made sure to just have his share of fun and leave it all behind but it was strange how badly you made him want so much more. things he never thought he would ever want. in a way that he was aware would probably destroy him.

“and i know it's not healthy, i know. but i just can't stop―” he lifts his head in the slightest, tilting it towards your lips, grazing and brushing against your own as if he wanted to stretch the moment out,”really can't stop myself,” a longing whisper trickling out his pandora’s box. a yearn for you, so deep he utterly and irrevocably can not defy.

the kiss that follows, starts off soft and gentle like a declaration of love. slowly weaving into one of hunger and craving, impulsive with the need to covet everything down to your core. to start where you end and end where you start. yang jungwon felt absolute badshit crazy.

this wasn't what he had in mind when he proposed the idea to sleep around a few times.

his lips move atop yours in a frenzy, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere to keep you close. tongue brushing against your parted lips in a tease,”tell me you want me like that too,” he begs into your mouth.

“the water's runn―” clank. before you can answer him, breathless and glazed with need alike, sunoo’s loud ass voice breaks through the moment, followed by his plate of chocolate mousse crashing into the marble tiles.

“i did not see anything! i absolutely did not see y'all about to get it on right in the middle of the kitchen!” sunoo disappears out immediately. leaving you and jungwon panting and flushed with embarassment. your fogged up brains clearing up after the sudden interruption.

“i― your lips are swollen― um, do you want some mousse?” jungwon stammers, retreating away from you.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

“you're crazy,” you whisper out, glancing around at the empty hallway. feeling the heat emanating off of riki's body as he stands dangerously close to you.

“you're the crazy one,” his chuckle echoes off the walls sending you into a hoard of panic. your hands slapping against his chest to push him away as quick as you can.

hatred, rivalry, and contempt had shaped the idea of your relationship with him for years. so much hostility and so much of ignorance. riki and you were like yin and yang, total opposites and unable to see one ground. ever. but things changed over a shared summer internship and you were not yet ready to accept or admit it. not to yourself or others. god forbid the others found out you didn't puke at the sight of riki.

and being possibly caught kissing him? over your dead body.

“just close your eyes,” riki takes off his beanie and puts it on your head, briskly pulling it down: over your eyes. and before you can utter a word of objection, he is cupping your face and squishing your cheeks― lips meeting your puckered ones in a messy kiss.

you melt into it immediately, ears tuning out and body relaxing. albeit the beating of your hearts seemed to sync over, loud and hard. hands trembling in the slightest, breath speeding up and skin growing warm. it felt like a rippling wave of cold water on a hot shore, the worry of being caught suddenly striking as something insignificant.

“i thought y'all hated each other's guts?” sunghoon’s sudden intrusion whacks the gears in your system. the two of you pulling away like, like poles repeling each other.

“we do!” “we don't!” you and riki call out at the same time, confusing the heck out of sunghoon. “okay.. so y'all are in kissing stage right now, that's cute.” he laughs regardless of the variance between your answers. giving you both a suggestive look before he leaves.

you push up the beanie, peeking from underneath, “you jerk! you did this on purpose didn't you! you wanted to be caught! i can't believe i fell fo―” but riki is not bothering with this now, not when he got what he wanted; a free pass to kiss you from now cause everyone would know of it probably by the end of the day.

“just shut up and kiss me,” he pulls the beanie back over your eyes and lunges forward, diving right into another kiss without wasting any more time. oh you felt like he shot you dead. with the cupid's arrow of course.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 17 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You stood at a safe distance behind Jinwoo, your butterflies weaving through his army of shadow ice bears. The massive beasts bore the brunt of the demon nobles' attacks, their darkened forms battered but still standing tall. As your butterflies pulsed gentle waves of magic, the ice bears’ wounds began to mend. Some of your butterflies lingered longer, fluttering playfully around the shadows as if to comfort them after their arduous battle.

Tank, Jinwoo's massive shadow bear, lay on his stomach, utterly content. On his broad nose rested one of your butterflies, white with light blue under certain lights. The delicate creature radiated a warm, soothing glow, sending soft pulses of energy into Tank. The bear rumbled lowly in approval, his glowing eyes half-lidded as if he were on the verge of dozing off.

At the forefront, Jinwoo stood facing Esil, his presence was imposing, eyes glinting menacingly. The demoness faltered under his interrogation.

You watched quietly as Jinwoo caught her limp body before it could hit the ground. His movements were precise, almost gentle, as he laid her down. Then, he straightened, standing sentinel beside her, his eyes hard and unreadable. You moved to his side, silently joining him in keeping watch.

---

As he stood over Esil’s unconscious form, his mind replayed the moment her body succumbed to the system’s influence. The vacant look in her eyes, the sudden collapse—the system had total control, and while that wasn’t a surprise, it unsettled him more than he expected.

It wasn’t curiosity that prompted his question as much as concern. He glanced back at you, standing there quietly.

You had been through the system’s trials too, hadn’t you?

If it had done that to Esil, had it also stripped you bare of your agency at some point?

The thought left an unpleasant knot in his chest.

"Does the system do that to you?" Jinwoo asked, his gaze still fixed on the unconscious Esil, yet his voice came out softer than he intended. "When..." He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. His hands clenched slightly at his sides.

You understood what he was asking without him needing to finish. Your admittance came quiet but steady. “Yes,”

Jinwoo’s head snapped toward you, the tightness in his chest sharpened. He searched your face for any sign of resentment, any trace of bitterness, but you didn’t seem angry at the system. Instead, there was an odd resignation, as if you’d long since made peace with its machinations.

You continued before he could respond. “And no. I think... it’s the same case as you, the system wants me to live.”

Jinwoo’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

For a moment, you seemed to be testing the words on your tongue, unsure.

“There was a time... when I tested its limits. I pushed too far.”

Jinwoo’s gaze bore into you, unyielding and intense. “What happened?”

“The system reacted as you’d expect. Penalties. Threats. It flashed them all at me—reducing my stats, taking away privileges, locking me back in the garden. Even death.”

Jinwoo had hated the system once, but never as much as he did in this moment. The only relief, faint as it was, came after you continued.

Was it because you were standing there, alive, and he didn’t want to imagine otherwise?

“Instead of following through, it just... stopped me. It put up a barrier, cutting me off from what I was trying to do.”

Jinwoo asked, his tone low, “What were you doing?”

You paused, and for a moment, Jinwoo thought you wouldn’t answer. Instead, you took a step forward, closing the gap between you, standing directly in front of him. The intensity in your gaze was startling and brief, before you bowed deeply, your gloved hands clasped tightly in front of you.

“I’m sorry.”

Jinwoo blinked, startled. "Hey, what are you—"

“For not being able to prevent your mother from falling into eternal slumber.”

What?

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat.

You were there? Back then?

“I tried. I found a way to siphon off the harmful mana that was killing her. I was so close—so close—”

You had tried to save her—his mother. The mother he had loved and mourned, the one whose absence had shaped so much of who he was.

“but in the end, I failed. I—”

Jinwoo barely registered your last words

In one swift motion, he closed the remaining gap between you. He heard how your breath hitched as his arm wrapped around your back and waist. His other hand found yours, his fingers hooking gently around your gloved ones.

Why was he doing this? Jinwoo didn’t fully understand it himself. He only knew that the distance between you suddenly felt unbearable. The weight of your words, your broken voice, your trembling shoulders, your quiet resolve—they struck something deep within him. He needed to feel your presence, to know you were real and still here.

"Jinwoo?" you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he buried his face into your shoulder. “I know you’re still mad at me. But please, indulge me this one time.”

You didn’t react, and for a moment, Jinwoo was afraid that you would push him away, until he felt fingers threading gently through his hair. The motion was familiar, comforting—a memory from a time when he was weaker.

Jinwoo’s shoulders relaxed under your touch. He melted into you, his grip tightening ever so slightly. You had no scent, Jinwoo noticed. Not the metallic tang of blood or the floral sweetness he expected.

It was oddly fitting.

---

He deserved to know.

Even if it changed how he saw you—even if it made him angry or distant—you couldn’t hide it forever. The system permitting you to share this moment felt like a sign, a chance to lay the truth bare and accept whatever came next.

So when Jinwoo embraced you, his warmth enveloping you like a shield, it caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to hold you so tightly, to cling to you as if your presence grounded him. Yet the embrace itself was careful, as if he were holding something fragile.

His voice was different, softer than you’d ever heard it.

Mad at him? You weren’t mad—you were guilty, drowning in it.

But the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his breathing grounded you, and you found yourself relaxing too. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to let go of the constant self-reproach, if only for a moment.

Above your heads, Red flitted toward a group of demons approaching in the distance. With a subtle move of your fingers, you traced a glowing sigil mid-air, and a beam of light shot down from above, obliterating them before they could get close.

Jinwoo continued to hold you.

You sighed softly, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair.

And so, you followed his lead, as you always did.

---

“Bowdown. Submit. You are in front of [ ][ ][ ] [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ].”

The static distorted the clarity of the last few words, but their intent was undeniable. The voice that echoed was the same one Esil Radiru had grown up hearing—an omnipresent entity that directed the demon clans within this realm, ensuring their obedience from the moment they opened their eyes here. Yet, there was something different this time. It wasn’t the voice itself that gave her pause but the unusual sensation that followed it, an innate urge to obey as if compliance was the most natural thing in the world.

When Esil Radiru opened her eyes, she expected to see the human Jinwoo looming over her. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with a woman. A human woman. Her delicate appearance seemed unremarkable at first glance—until Esil felt it.

An innate urge rooted itself in her core, rising and pulling her toward submission. It wasn’t forceful, nor was it a demand. It was merely the statement of a truth so absolute it resonated with the marrow of her bones. The woman didn’t even speak, yet Esil felt the weight of her presence, like a warm beacon drawing her closer. Her knees nearly buckled under the combined pressure of the voices in her head and the woman’s radiance.

“Who… Who are you?” Esil managed, her voice barely more than a tremble.

The woman smiled gently. "My name is (Name),” she said. “I’m Jinwoo’s companion.”

Esil wasn’t sure what she expected, but the warmth exuding from (Name)’s voice startled her. It was calm, tender, and so achingly familiar, as if she were standing before someone who understood her struggles without needing to ask. That warmth felt like coming home after a long, tiresome journey—safe, comforting, and peaceful.

I want to bury myself in that warmth, Esil thought for a fleeting moment. To rest… To—

Her eyes widened, and her body trembled. What am I thinking? She clenched her fists and forced herself to look away from the woman, though her aura lingered. (Name) was no ordinary human. Esil knew that much. No, this woman wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

What a powerful woman, Esil thought, suppressing the shiver that threatened to crawl up her spine.

---

Esil watched the pair closely as they negotiated with her father. The dynamic between the two humans was unexpectedly casual. Perhaps too casual.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding, Sire,” The woman’s words were delivered so smoothly, so politely, “My companion here can be rather... clueless when it comes to social cues.”

Esil nearly choked on her drink. That was bold. Jinwoo’s jaw visibly tightened, and his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of her words, the metaphorical arrow hitting its mark with pinpoint accuracy. Esil swore she saw his shadow soldiers collectively flinch, their heads bowing as if in silent mourning for their master’s pride. Jinwoo let out a soft, dejected sigh.

Esil stifled a giggle. This woman’s tongue is sharper than any blade.

Would you be willing to teach me your ways someday, Lady (Name)?

Her father, the head of the Radiru clan, regarded both you and Jinwoo with unease.

His reluctance was palpable as he eyed Jinwoo’s shadow army with poorly concealed dread, but when she introduced you, Esil noticed the slight tremor in her father’s legs, as well as the guards in the room

They feels it too... That dichotomy, Esil realized. The warmth that hides something far more dangerous.

“You’re okay with just an entry pass and a guide?” her father asked reluctantly, his tone betraying his unease.

“We won’t put your daughter in danger,” you assured him, your voice calm and resolute. “That much, we can promise. And we’ll keep it.”

Your confidence left a deep impression on Esil. You reminded her of the queens she had read about in those human literatures salvaged from the floor’s ruins.

---

“If there’s a battle, make sure you don’t interfere,” Jinwoo instructed her firmly. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

Esil felt warm at his words.

“Don’t give her false hope, you tactless fool,” you muttered, jabbing Jinwoo sharply in the side.

Esil gasped as Jinwoo doubled over, groaning in pain. Perhaps I misunderstood? she thought, a pout forming on her lips. That’s no fair…

But before she could linger on her disappointment, she felt your hand rest gently on her head.

“Hey,” you said softly, your warm smile returning. “Don’t let that dense man bother you, alright?”

Esil blinked up at you, startled by the sudden contact but not at all uncomfortable. “Ah, I apologize!” you added quickly, a hint of sheepishness in your tone. “I should’ve asked if you were okay with me touching you.”

“No, it’s fine!” Esil blurted out, her face heating again. “I... I don’t mind.”

The sincerity in her voice seemed to surprise you, but you merely nodded, your expression softening further. Esil couldn’t help but feel grateful. You treated her not just as a princess but as a person, respecting her in ways she hadn’t realized she craved.

---

Esil’s father had prepared meticulously for this meeting, gathering artifacts and gifts tailored to each of the clan heads. Among them was a bottle of fine alcohol cherished by the Garshi clan’s leader. When Esil brought it forward, Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, his tone blunt.

“Why?”

Esil hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Eh? Um… if we bring these with us, the negotiations will go more smoothly—”

“Negotiations?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism. “Are you guys friendly with the Garshi clan by any chance?”

Esil fumbled over her words, unsure how to respond.

“Here we go again with this man.” Her growing panic was interrupted by a soft sigh from (Name). Esil felt the woman’s gloved hand rest on her head once more, its warmth grounding her. “Just wait here, alright? Jinwoo and I will take care of it.”

Your kind smile returned, but this time, Esil felt a chill run down her spine. For a moment, she pitied whoever dared to stand against you.

---

Esil watched in awe—and no small amount of horror—as flames erupted across the Garshi clan’s stronghold. The screams of its inhabitants echoed in the distance, a chilling testament to the chaos Jinwoo and you had wrought.

“Uhm, Jinwoo... Sir,” she ventured nervously, “why did you spare my clan?”

“Because I took a liking to you—”

SMACK!

Esil winced as (Name) jabbed Jinwoo again, this time with even greater force, in the ribs. Eliciting a pained groan from the man as he doubled over.

“What did I just tell you?!” you scolded, your tone exasperated. “Stop giving the poor girl false hope, you dense fool!”

Esil’s cheeks flushed despite herself. Even as (Name) reprimanded Jinwoo, Esil couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth blossoming in her chest. These two were unlike anyone she had ever met. She found herself smiling as (Name) turned to her with a determined look.

“We’ll boost the Radiru clan to first place,” (Name) declared. “I promise you that, Esil.”

The conviction in her voice left Esil momentarily speechless. “Thank you, Lady (Name),” she said softly, her smile earnest.

---

As they climbed the demon tower, Esil watched in awe. The shadow soldiers worked in perfect tandem the ethereal butterflies, their movements mirroring the synergy between their masters. The scene was almost hypnotic—a seamless blend of darkness and light carving a path upward.These two are really something else.

For the first time in a long while, Esil Radiru felt hopeful. And she knew she had made the right decision to stand by your side.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [20/11/2024] -

This draft is messier then the others, I apologize

[just1cefor4ll]

HEYY, AIDEN x READER AT THE RINK ANON HERE!! LOVED THE WAY U WROTE THE ONESHOT!

i was waiting for your requests to open up again :D (im obsessed with aiden so bear w/ me, i'll be requesting ALOT abt him) wanted to ask if u could write a oneshot about tyler,aiden x f!reader as a love triangle! something along the lines of; how the atmosphere is around the group when those two keep on pissing each other off. Aiden being aiden and just pulling on tylers strings even though reader hasn't chosen which one she likes most!

(if its okay w u, every time i request something i'll just put 🤍Anon!)

Tyler & Aiden x fem!reader

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎸🥀 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The more confident one here would probably be Aiden

Like ofc Tyler isn’t insecure or anything but he definitely isn’t that confident when flirting with you

Aiden would get more touchy and pushy (well if that’s even possible)

Tyler would be more calm around you and would be very overprotective over you and would protect you, just like his sister with his life

The two would bicker so much more

You turn the corner, there’s a fighting Aiden and Tyler there

Aiden would be more smug then angry when arguing with Tyler

On the other hand.. Tyler would get pissed

We all know he gets pissed easily but they wouldn’t full on fist fight probably to not raise suspicion within the others in the group

When you are alone with Tyler he would probably be more ‘flirty’

He would have his hand on your waist or hug you

You wouldn’t think anything of it because you think he’s just being friendly (reader is kinda oblivious like always, typical Y/N)

When you three would be near each other the atmosphere would be so fucking tense

Ashlyn fight her inner demons to not say “get a room the sexual tension radiating off of you is making me sick”

Some would question the weird atmosphere but the two would deny anything and everything

After a while they would probably make you choose or one of them would just make a move

If you had a crush on Aiden:

Tyler would be crushed

He would cry probably but not a full on breakdown

He would get pissy towards you and Aiden (more to Aiden)

Deep down he would still like you but after some time he moves on

Things would definitely be awkward for a while tho

On the other hand Aiden would be the happiest man alive

He would rub it in but he wouldn’t go THAT far to the point he would make Tyler feel bad

Probably just sticking his tongue out when you’re not looking or when he kisses you he would do that thing where you have your eyes closed while he is eyeing Tyler

Aiden would yap your ear off and tell you what has been going on between him and Tyler

You would just laugh it off, feeling a bit bad for Tyler but you’re happy you got together with your crush :3

If you had a crush on Tyler:

Oh he would act like he doesn’t care but deep down he wants to rub it in so bad but doesn’t want to be immature

Would probably just smirk at Aiden when you’re not looking

Aiden would still be his cheerful self but he would be crushed as well

Poor boy probably cried the whole night

Ben would glare a bit at you two like how dare you make his cousin cry

But after a while he forgets about it and moves on, going back to his usual very happy self who yaps everyones ears off

Tyler would definitely not tell you what has been happening

Like girl nuh uh that shit seems too embarrassing to be talked about anywhere near you

Would never admit he was jealous, like never

But you can tell because he looks like an angry puppy :D

After a while the atmosphere in the group would go back to normal, just some romance popping in lmao

If you don’t like them back:

the awkwardness in the group would fr go 📈

probably would plan to fight the person you like

after some time they would ofc get over it but this would take then so much longer to get over

everyone in the group is like “wtf is going on”

if you start dating that person and stat to drift away from the group they would be really sad tho

if the guy mistreats you then they will beat him up they wouldn’t even care of they get in trouble

overall your interactions would be brief and awkward

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt. 6

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy.

A/N: For all of you who wanted an Ashley confrontation, it’s coming next week! 👀🤭

See my Masterlist Here

Part Five

Ashley did not take the news well. Her jealousy reared its ugly head causing her to lash out. Spencer explained that if she wanted to continue their relationship, she needed to understand that you were always going to be a huge part of his life. He wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect towards you.

She seemed to calm down after that, until Spencer told her he would be living with you for two months, possibly three, after the baby was born. Ashley was extremely jealous of you and it showed. But Spencer wouldn’t let her push him away from you. He was still unsure about whatever this was with Ashley.

She liked him that was for sure. But he didn’t feel like that about her. He was sure his feelings would kick in at some point, like they had with you. It had been a long time coming with you. What started off as friendship quickly turned into a sexual relationship. Then he fell for you. He hadn’t realized until the end of it. Then it was too late. He fell so hard that he had to end it before you hurt him. So he was waiting for things to be like that with Ashley.

The day of your first ultrasound came, you were so excited to finally see the tiny bean growing inside you. Hotch gave you and Spencer the day off for your appointment. Spencer took you to your favorite restaurant for lunch. You were going to look for cribs after the ultrasound.

When they finally called your name, you and Spencer jumped up excitedly. You changed into the gown they laid out, waiting for the ultrasound tech to come in. She introduced herself as Nora. She explained what to expect today. She got her equipment out, telling you that for the first ultrasound, they actually put the instrument inside you, instead of on your stomach.

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. When you saw the black and grey picture come into focus, the little blob on the screen she indicated was your baby, you burst into tears. Spencer’s eyes were watery too. She let you hear the heartbeat for the first time, and you both were instantly in love.

Nora said everything looked great and she printed off copies of the ultrasound. You clutched them to your chest as you and Spencer made your next appointment. When you got to the car, you looked at them over and over again.

You spent the whole car ride to the store talking about who you thought the baby would look like, if it was a boy or a girl. Spencer ran through the probability of it having his traits or yours. You picked out a crib for your apartment. He had looked at every one carefully reading the safety stats. Spencer couldn’t wait to get it home and assemble it.

You were going to spend next weekend cleaning out your spare room. After shopping, you and Spencer watched a movie and ordered take out. When you fell asleep, head in his lap, your hair splayed out in all directions, he knew it would never work with Ashley.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelyygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @ilikw

[smuttyaf]

Mr. Brightside

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞

wc: 3.7k

short lil one shot before the adventurous weeks ahead! so happy holidays & enjoy!!

As much as you try to take deep breaths and control your heart from beating through your chest, it was difficult because of the situation in front of you. Head nodding and agreeing to Nora’s story, you avoid the gaze from the man standing in the open kitchen. Small smile tugging on your lips before you’re letting the warm peppermint hot chocolate welcome itself on your tongue.

Eyes trail to the green orbs across the room, they roam amongst the brown knitted sweater that compliments the curls flowing down his neck. You could tell he was faintly listening to the conversation he was having with Niall, just as you were. Part of you wants to go across the section and rest your head on him like yesterday night, but instead you ease into Reid’s arm, tearing your eyes away and humming at the alcohol infuse treat.

“Bailey’s?” You question, lifting the penguin mug up. The beaming smile from Nora drops as she lets shock paint her expression.

“It’s very concerning how good you are at this,” She says in a worried tone. That makes you and Reid break out in laughter from the sudden change of her mood. You had many strange quirks, and one of them was being able to distinguish which alcohol was mixed in drinks; your friends would call you an alcoholic however, you would explain that you have very exquisite taste buds.

“You’re too good for this world,” You smile as she joins in laughing. The feeling of Reid’s fingertips curl around your shoulder, only making the burning gaze of Harry even more prominent. Digits beginning to drum an unfamiliar tune causes you to rise up on your feet, the taste of mint and savoury alcohol of the Bailey’s burns on your tongue. You were half way done and knew you want a second cup —at least that was the excuse you have to leave his side.

“Gonna grab some more,” You say, body turning to your boyfriend and the short blonde sitting with her legs tangled together on the floor.

“Me too babe,” Reid chides, the cute bear mug in his hands welcomes itself in your palm as you nod your head at him. “What was the point of me doing this if I knew she was coming!” Nora groans, only making a giggle elect from you, turning around you make your way into the kitchen where Niall was talking passionately about football.

The annual get together before Christmas was tonight, and this year activity was everyone bringing a different festive drink and having to guess what it was. The choice definitely a blind decision on Nora’s part who brought up the idea but you could careless, it was nice seeing all your friends and doing the infamous Secret Santa gift exchange. It was one of the many reasons why you enjoy this time of the year. Pulling out the milk and brown bottle from the fridge, you fill up the cups and place them in the microwave and then let your hands dig through the shelves of Nora’s cabinet, immediately taking the hot chocolate packs out and placing them on the counter, your hands now trail to find a spoon.

“Putting all my money on CJ, it’s the right choice,” Niall jokes, shoving his phone in Harry’s face displaying football stats.

“Trust me he doesn’t care,” You sarcastically sigh, pulling out the sliver ware with an unfazed look as the Irish brunette groans.

“Oh fuck off Y/N. Harry does care, don’t you?” His head turning between you both as Harry shrugs his shoulders. “You guys suck you know that.” Niall huffs, making you both join in small laughter. The sound of the microwave goes off as you pull out the two mugs filled with warm milk infused liquor.

“If you listen to me and you’ll earn big money Styles,” He brags, shoulders rising as he lefts his hands to his chest, stepping away when he hears the call of his name.

Your heart beat grows rapidly standing next to Harry. It has your ears burning and hairs standing being this close to him. His familiar scent tingles your nose and makes you want to cave in to drape your arms around him but instead you’re ripping open the white packages and pouring the contents into the mugs.

“Did you like your gift?” The english voice next to you ask. It causes your palms to grow with sweat.

“Which one?” You tease, the memories of him making you come effortlessly undone around him to the beautiful black slip gown he left on your bed this morning.

Eyes flick between the brown swirls in the mugs to Harry green ones. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, back leaning off the counter as you begin to stir the mixture. The familiar feeling of your stomach quivering with nerves and toes tingling in their cotton confines sends an electric shock of wanting to be press between him and your mattress.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You say with a genuine smile, tapping the spoon on your penguin mug and moving it to the other.

If you were being honest, you weren’t expecting a gift from Harry but, when you opened your eyes and was welcome with the sight of the velvet decorative box you could have done cartwheels off the bed. It was weird that you found more happiness in the secretive relationship you have with Harry, then the one of 4 years with your boyfriend. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy with Reid, it was more like you were comfortable. You’ve been stuck in the same routine; him telling you about his work endeavours, the plain mediocre sex, the ignorance towards your feelings, and the possessive claim he has over you. It was tiring, especially since it’s been going on for much longer then you anticipated, though there was history with him, and his friends were also yours, if you broke up everything would change.

You always thought of that. Sure, in the beginning you were both petty and toxic; him breaking up with you because you stared too long at one your classmates or you breaking up with him because you felt smothered. Despite everything though, you always found your way back to each other and have grown since you both met in college, but unfortunately the excitement was gone. The infatuation that was once there died and was now set on your curly friend. The one who listens to everything you say, who lets you rant and express how you feel. He looks at you for who you are, and not what he wants you to be, he lets his touch be gentle on your skin while lips bruise the most vulnerable parts. He was the one on your mind, every time you woke up to when you laid to rest. He was the one who your heart was set on.

You didn’t realize that your thoughts made your movements halt, your fingers immediately tighten around the ingrained spoon to peel it out of the hot liquid and tap it against the ceramic.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry ask, his gaze watching you as he crosses his arms to fit on his chest.

“Whatever you’re thinking about.” You reply, eyes connecting with his once again. This time you let yourself get lost in his features like when it’s three in the morning and the moonlight shines over him.

All you want to do is reach over and let your fingers curl around the ends of his hair, pull him in and press your lips against his. They’re practically begging to go where they will be appreciated, the immediate thought of the way Harry taste makes you run your tongue along your bottom lip. It was irritating you having to pretend that you didn’t want him, that you don’t see him anything more than just a friend.

Warm hands meet the skirt hanging off your hips, lips brushing against your temple as the musky scent of Reid, now mix with Harry’s. Gaze breaking away from green ones and meet with brown, you smile lazily at the feathery hair man as he peers down at the two mugs. The feeling of Harry’s presence leaves making your heart launch itself towards him, craving to follow him but instead you listen to your brain that directs you to stay put.

He lets his hand take back up his mug, pressing his lips against the painted ears of the bear and sipping on the warm liquid. A hum leaving him as his grip now slips to your back and massages there. “Someone’s jealous.” You hush, following his movements and drinking back the hot chocolate.

“Can you blame me,” Reid mutters, his fingers sinking lower down your back and you immediately pull away before they reach their destination. You trail back towards the familiar sofa that Nora occupies with Kelly next to her; Niall was back to bothering Harry in the chairs next to the couch, the chatter of your other friends quakes from the next room. And of course, Harry was there watching you, sitting sluggishly thrown over his seat with foot on one arm and his elbow leaning on the other, head brought up by his hand.

“Should we start exchanging gifts?” You question the small group.

It took everything to not catch Harry’s gaze in the moment, keeping your eyes set on Nora’s short bob as she smiles cheerfully and stands to gather everyone to start Secret Santa. This was going to be long night.

After multiple vodka shots and three beers later, Reid was passed out on the white couch while you were packing the plates and mugs into the washing machine. Faint voices are heard between your three friends in the dining room. The clashing of dishes being dropped in the sink next to you makes your eyes turn and fall on his tattoo hand.

“Another year of Nora leaving her own party,” Harry chides, hand turning the facet to rinse the cutlery.

“She’s always been a bit of a light weight,” You shrug. It didn’t take much sips of five percent alcohol for her to be a giggly mess in the span of a few minutes. “I got these.” You say, reaching over and grabbing the silverware, your fingers glaze over Harry’s hands on the plate. Stepping in closer the warmth he radiates rushes over you and makes you lean your head against his bicep.

He lets you take the dish away, nails seeping into the soapy water before he’s resting them against the edge of the marble counter, he leans over the sink, gaze amongst the gingerbread scented hand soap before his head is turning to look at you.

“Why are you still with him.” Harry ask, voice lace with annoyance that your boyfriend is drunk and passed out behind you. It’s been the same question he’s been repeating since the affair started six months ago. The same question that always got the same answer.

“Not right now H,” You sigh, body turning and stacking the plate into the dish washer.

“I don’t think you understand how I feel when the only thing I see is him all over you.” He vents, fingers curving into the counter as you begin to start the machine.

“I do.” You admit.

The feelings that you have for Harry are genuine, they flood your mind throughout the day and makes your heart skip when you see his name cross your phone. From the very beginning, when both of you were drunk and him promising to drop you home safely after the club, he confessed his feelings about how he always wanted you; bringing up never understanding why you stay with someone so condescending who you knew you were too good for, he ranted to you about wanting to be the one to hold your hand, touch your skin, and make you truly happy. In the moment, all you could do was kiss him. His lips suck onto yours and lit a fire inside you, the burning sensation of excitement flowed through and ever since then it was a never ending feeling whenever you’re with him.

You understand the hurt he was feeling, you felt it when you wanted to be wrapped in his arms inside of Reid’s, but he was all you’ve known. He was familiar, the person you could count on for… superficial things, but does that even mean anything now? It isn’t college anymore. There isn’t anymore football games and frat parties, there are no more late night studies and petty arguments about why you’re following a certain person. This was reality. You graduated, had your own degree and working in your field. You had your own condo and take care of yourself, yet you only held onto him because he was… familiar.

“Meet me in the bathroom upstairs.” Harry says lowly, body tearing away from the counter and moving across the room.

Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip, hands going to dry themselves as you wait a couple minutes before retreating upstairs into the bathroom in the hall. Fingers touch the gold knob, turning it and stepping deeper, the smell of him rushes over you as he presses the door close with your back. Mouths link together and you immediately moan at the taste, his hands fall to your hips pulling you in as your fingers card through his hair.

Tongues merge together to taste the liquor left on your tastebuds, his tone chest brush against your erect nipples in your black long sleeve. You love the way he graces your skin so easily and how it makes your heart pick up in pace, how he lets his lips dance on you and leave teeth marks in their wake, you love every second of it. Harry can have his way with you in just the snap of a finger, his aura was so powerful it had you submitting without questions.

It wasn’t long till your hand was rushing between your moving bodies, palming him over in his trousers and feeling his heavy member beg to be played with against the zipper. You know you didn’t have much time till your friends would start to question your disappearances, so you broke the kiss, letting your mouth press wet kisses down his neck to tear away and sink to your knees. Fingers immediately revealing the erect member that stands in the air.

Hand wrapping around the base, your lips let the crown of his cock slip between them and suckle on the salty skin. You hum at the acquired taste, eyes looking up at him as you move down the shaft coating him with saliva while he drags down your throat. The sound of Harry sucking in a breath is heard above you, his fingers moving with your head while the other holds his sweater.

Clear fluid inches down the expanse of him that doesn’t fit in your mouth when you swallow him, your free hand tugs gently at the space as he begins to rock his hips into you. The wet sounds echo throughout the room as you never tear your eyes away from Harry. His bruise lips tuck between his teeth while he looks down on you hungrily, eyes hooded and wanting more.

Thick mascara lashes bat themselves up at him, cheeks hollowing and tongue going flat as you let him sink deeper into your mouth till he’s touching the back of your throat. Walls relaxing as he rocks out and back in, letting him ruin your voice and lie heavy in the tight space, it makes the wetness you feel between your legs quake with arousal.

Finger tips pull away from the underside of his cock, your nose brushing against his skin as you feel tears swell your waterline. Swallowing him down you couldn’t help but moan, eyes fluttering as he holds himself there, his brows coming together in resistance.

“Fuck.” Harry moans, the hand he has in your hair falls to your neck bringing you to his lips. Now you’re tastebuds where completely devour by him, from his manhood to the scotch that burns on his tongue, he consumes you.

Body overpowering you, your head tilts back while his tongue dances with yours. Fingers curl around his shaft, tugging gently electing a moan from Harry making the kiss break. All you desired for was to be his, without the sneaking around without the lies, you want to be wrapped up in his arms on the couch, and you want him to be the one to pull you away from a conversation so easily, you just want it to be him.

The hands he has on your hips gently turn you around, your head now lying against the wooden door, backside perked up in the air as Harry tugs down your skirt and panties, his head immediately brushing against your soaking core. Even though you want this so badly to be a drawn out session of you exploring each others body on every service of this small area, you both knew you were running out of time and someone was bound to search for their other friends.

Head sinking into your creamy walls, a please sigh releases from your ruin throat, eyes closing as your fingers dig into the soft craving of the door. Harry drags down your walls achingly slow, letting your walls expand and form around him so you remember just how he perfect fits. The thickness of him satisfies the throbbing that’s been craving attention since you’ve stepped foot in your friends house. The delicious feel of his hips press against your backside as he fills you up before drawing his hips back and sinking into you once more.

As the pace picks up and the thundering beat of your heart is pounding against your chest, quiet broken moans tremble through the air as you try to contain the tantalizing thrusts of Harry into you. The position you were in had him sinking in deeply, your stream of arousal was running down your folds and welcoming itself around your inner thighs. He felt so good that your head was nodding off into the door trying to catch your breath.

“So deep baby,” You whimper, eyes opening as one hand leaves the door and run along Harry’s tattoos.

“So perfect, always so perfect,” Harry breathes, his grip on you slipping to your waist and leaning you off the wooden panel. Your head tilts back into his chest, a long drawn out moan tearing through your throat as you feel his twin globes press tightly against your lips.

That makes him take his other hand and cover your mouth, his thrusts now becoming more rush and aggressive as your body bounces with his movements, eyes closing as he relishes every nerve. His breath was hot against your neck, lips press against the skin there as the sound of your clothed bodies accompanies the wetness between your legs.

“You’re mine,” He groans into your ear, heart nearly bursting into flames at the words you love to hear fill your conscience. Yes, you belong to him, he had you wholeheartedly. He was the only one you want, the one who sends warmth through every vein, yes you were all his.

Your teeth sink gently on Harry’s digit covering your mouth, finding it hard to contain the euphoric feeling bubbling in your abdomen to the silky deep voice behind you. It was troubling trying to contain the tension that was starting to take a toll on you. Muscles tensing and fingers curling into the skin of his hands, it begins to course through you, hips stuttering against his movements as you lose composure.

“Gonna send you home with your pussy filled up from me,” Harry mutters in your ear only making your knees knock together. The words causing you lose it, the knot in your stomach unravels. Body going limp as the feeling of sweat mattes against your forehead.

The hand covering your mouth trails to your throat, his thrust now sloppy as you trail yours into his curls. Breath coming out slow as you try to catch yourself, the grip he has tight on your hips releases slower and slower when diving into you. His heart beating aggressively pressed against your back as your body quivers at the currents of pleasure flowing through you.

Harry’s warm seed plants itself in your tight walls, his movements making him stutter as he empty’s himself into your pussy, the feeling of him slipping out of you as the substance he delivers flows out of your folds and down your clit. Whimper leaving your ruined throat as his mouth press small kisses against your burning skin, the pressure he has on you releasing itself as you turn in his hold, eager kisses being shared.

Fuck, you want nothing more then him to be back in you and having him making you fall apart over and over again, but you were on burrow time and the alarm was ringing telling you that it was finally time to part. So with sweaty palms and hazy nerves you manage to pull away from him and gather yourself. Fingers patting down your messy hair and tugging your skirt back over your hips, the mixture of you both meets the lace of your panties that only causes you to suck in a breath.

Curls stick to the nape of Harry’s neck, lips red and glistening as he tucks himself in and adjust his jumper, eyes falling to your loving ones as you lean in one more time to press a soft kiss against his lips before retrieving the door open. Footsteps shuffling into the hallway, he lets you take the lead and make your way back downstairs first, his hand gripping your ass cheekily as you begin to descend down the steps.

You know you couldn’t keep this lie up for much longer but Harry left his mark, and it was dripping down your legs as he sends you home completely spent.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[itsa-not-me]

@nightunite you’ve cursed me with this. I gotta get this out of my system stat.

I’m just…I’m sorry

CW; threesome, anal play, rimming, oral, anal sex, vaginal sex, cum eating, more loss of my sanity

Johnny’s always one to come up with funny plot ideas for his videos for the holidays. He’s seen all the serious ones or the ones where it’s maybe some throw away line about step siblings or being short on cash for the pizza guy, growing up. And he likes the serious and the cliche shoots, he likes sex, but the silly shoots? Oh those are great.

He personally thinks he’s outdone himself this year. He’s gotten Simon to agree to wear these honestly hideous green fuzzy boxers, and for himself he helped costumes make a headband with puppy dog ears and a single antler attached between them. (Theres even a tail that Johnny wears, Simon only agreed to the boxers because Johnny let Simon finger his ass until he was crying to loosen him up for the tail plug)

And then that left you, the present in the middle. You’re new to the company, just signed on a couple months ago and you like how nice everyone’s been, and how transparent they are about health statuses, the use of birth control, boundaries.

You’re excited for the shoot. Even laughed when you saw the truly ridiculous or sparse costumes your costars have on (Johnnys only wearing the headband and tails). It’s not like you’re much better, you got a single ribbon wrapped around your neck, tied up in a pretty bow in the back, and not much else. Simon does help you put on nipple covers, since the boys are strapping you down to a collapsible cube doggy style, and he says that he knows from experience that the hard top can chafe the nipples.

Everyone goes over the stoplight system, what your personal safeword is, and what to do if you can’t speak for whatever reason and you need it to stop (there’s a loud buzzer button placed in your hand to squeeze if its too much). Once you’re set and everyone is good to go it’s show time.

As soon as the director shouts action, you can feel Johnny diving into your ass, mouth and tongue working to prepare you for the plug you’d agreed to. You’re not left alone long enough to sink into the feeling without distraction. Simon’s coming up to you, cock already out through the front fold of the awful green boxers and hard. He slides his fingers into your hair to hold it firm at the base, the way you had showed him you liked it earlier, and you can’t help but moan at the pleasant ache.

Simon’s ordering you to stick your tongue out, tapping the head of his cock against it when you do. It gives you the barest taste of his pre, really it’s just a tease, and you look up at him with pleading eyes, only he’s looking at Johnny behind you. They must have some silent conversation because Simon is rocking the head of his cock along your tongue, something that keeps you both a little on edge as you hear and feel Johnny spit on your asshole.

Before you can whine to have a little more, Simon’s pushing into your mouth just as it feels like Johnny is pushing a finger in. Your moan is cut off as you choke on Simon, throat squeezing around the head of his cock, while your ass squeezes around Johnnys fingers.

Even if it’s something you’ve discussed already, Simon still pulls back enough to check in, asking if everything is green only for you to nod eagerly, sighing as you tell them both you can take more. So they give you more.

Simon takes his time to enjoy fucking your throat, pushing deep enough that your nose is buried in the fake fur and your drool is matting it. Johnny on the other hand, seems to want to see how fast he can pull you apart. He’s making sure that you’re prepped properly, doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s making it a mess of spit and lube, fucking your ass with three of his big fingers only to pull them out and see how you gap just a little.

He can also see how your cunt is getting wet, pretty folds seemingly begging for attention. He wants to spit on your pussy, see if it clenches the same as your ass did, but he knows he has to wait for it, doesn’t want to risk cross contamination. Instead when he has three fingers hooked into your ass with one hand, he takes his cock in the other and starts to rub the head of it through your folds, letting it catch at your weeping hole, but ultimately going to focus on your clit.

And you must feel good because the way you’re moaning and swallowing around Simon’s cock has him moaning, grip tight in your hair as he starts to fuck your face. You just take it all so beautifully. At one point he pauses to just push as deep into your throat as possible, counting to five slowly so you don’t panic before pulling out to let you take a breath. He does that over and over again until he finds himself on the edge and he has to pull out entirely, telling Johnny to put the plug in.

He holds your gaze, wiping away stray tears and ignoring the way his cock bobs in front of you like it’s begging for attention again. He enjoys the way your eyes flutter as the anal plug gets pushed it. It makes you look cute along with your flushed face. Once it’s in Simon gives Johnny a nod to go and wash his hands and mouth. He keeps a hand on you as he moves around to your backside and oh don’t you look like a pretty gift for them.

The plug’s base is decorated with fake mistletoe, so it looks like it’s hanging above your cunt, and boy does it look like she’s begging for a kiss. He can see your clit is already plump and shiny from Johnny coating it with his precum. And you’re soaked, so much that you’re dripping down your thighs.

The man can’t ignore a holiday tradition can he?

The way he kisses your pussy is nasty, tongue starting at your clit and dragging all the way to shove into your hole once, then twice. He knows it feels good, even if he couldn’t hear the way you’re moaning he’d be able to feel how you clamp down on his tongue.

But he really isn’t suppose to be in the holiday cheer is he?

So he pulls back to your disappointed moans, mouth already coated in your slick. He tries to hush you, says that you’ll be getting your presents soon enough, but you still beg him to fill you, to fuck you. Simon tsks you, but he says he’ll be generous at least. You think it means he’ll give you his fingers, or maybe his mouth again. Instead you feel as Simon pushes a toy into you, the low vibrations already making your toes curl. Where Johnny found a candy cane themed vibrator Simon will never know, but he’s enjoying the insight of it all. Because it’s such a cute look, ass full of mistletoe and cunt full of a thick faux peppermint stick.

So Simon goes about torturing you with the vibrator as you both wait for Johnny. Sometimes he’ll fuck you fast and hard but with the vibrations on low, other times it’s slow and gentle, but the vibrations are clicked to max.

That’s what Johnny walks back into, Simon slowly circling the vibrator in you while it’s set to max, making you cry and beg to cum. Simon just gives Johnny a smirk when he comes back to lick your slick that’s still on Simon’s face.

You don’t expect Johnny to be the one asking if you’ve been a good girl this year coming into your line of sight as he walks around to your head. He almost coos at how teary and pleading you are when you tell him you have. He pets your hair, moving it out of the way before telling you that maybe you should do a little more to prove you’re on the nice list. And that’s how you’re sucking and swallowing Johnnys cock like your orgasm depends on it.

You must be doing good because suddenly Simon is fucking you with the vibrator, fast, hard, and with the vibrations set to the highest setting. Johnny doesn’t even pull out of your throat entirely when you cum screaming, just pulling back enough so you can get some air.

But it’s not like you’re giving any reprieve though because what feels like seconds into your orgasm Simon is forcing his cock into your pussy and fucking you through it and into the next one.

And you’re held like that, Johnny fucking your throat while Simon does his best to ensure you’re not walking straight for the next 24 hours. It’s absolute bliss even if you feel like you can’t tell up from down. After a while Johnny pulls out, letting everyone hear Simon fuck the voice out of you. You have no idea what he’s doing, but suddenly the front of the cube is being lowered, arms stretched out and tied up above your head so you’re in a wicked but not uncomfortable curve downward.

Simon enjoys the view even more once Johnny has you all set up, arms tied in the same pretty ribbon around your neck. He lets himself enjoy the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock and squeezing like it’s begging for every last drop. He asks if you’re ready for your gift and you practically please for him to give it to you. How could he deny you?

He waits until Johnny is back at his side before fucking into you with short hard thrusts before a deep grind as he cums deep inside your pussy. You moan at the warm feeling filling your tummy, but the boys moan at the view of Simon pulling out of you, cum spilling every time your poor used hole clenches.

Simon doesn’t even have to tell Johnny to do anything before he’s diving into your pussy, already licking up the cum that’s dripped down onto your clit, before going straight to the source. The attention makes you whine but you don’t tap out, because it feels so good to be at their mercy and to let Johnny feats on your pussy like it’s his last meal. And Johnny is savoring it. He is. The taste of you and Simon mixing on his tongue is divine. But he’s also so excited for what comes next his cock is dropping on the floor.

Johnny isn’t inconsiderate though, he makes sure you get a few good orgasms as he eats you out, making your pussy clean with his spit. Then he’s onto his prize. He’s at least gentle as he starts to lightly push and pull on the plug, gently fucking your ass with it as he asks if you’re still green. He doesn’t hear the answer, but don’t worry, Simon’s there. He’s pressed up tight to Johnny, pumping his cock with a lubed hand as you slur you’re green, that you’re still good.

With a dark chuckle Simon is grabbing the plug with Johnny, the two of them starting to pull the plug further out of you after pushing it in. It’s a delicious kind of torture until it comes out with a pop, leaving your ass to gap a little, and really it’s an invitation for both men to spit on you.

You’re not left empty for long, the plug being replaced with Johnny’s cock. He’s so gentle with it to, slowly giving you more and more of his cock with every thrust. The lube that Simon pours directly onto the two of you is a little cool but that’s because Simon’s a little mean and he likes the little gasp you give.

Soon Johnny’s fucking you in long smooth strokes and it feels heavenly. You’re warm and when you squeeze down on him it sends a zing of pleasure up his spine.

And then Simon starts pulling at his own plug and he knows it’s going to feel better. He moans when the plug gets pulled out, giving you a hard thrust that makes you whimper a little before he’s murmuring apologies.

That all goes out the window when Simon starts to thrust hard into him the way he likes it though. He almost pulls himself out of you with how desperate he pushes back to get Simon as deep into his guts as possible. It’s only the other man’s grip on his hips that keep him from doing so. Simon uses Johnny as a toy to fuck you with for a few moments, pushing the man into you before pulling him back onto his own cock. He only chuckles when Johnny whines for more, telling the man he’s gotta do the work then.

So Johnny puts in the work. He’s practically going cross eyed from how good it feels to fuck into someone and to be fucked into. You can’t even talk because the feeling of both men fucking you is sending you to a new state of being. You don’t even realize you’re cumming from the feeling, it’s all just one big pleasure ride.

Johnny can tell though, and again it’s Simon that’s forcing his hips as deep into you as possible to make sure Johnny’s cum isn’t escaping you…yet. In fact it’s Johnny’s turn to lose his mind as Simon keeps him buried in you, fucking him until Johnny is hard and thrusting into you, only to be forced to cum into you again. It’s a cycle that gets repeated until Johnny’s drooling and you’re now also dripping onto the floor.

Finally Simon’s deemed you full of enough cum, and it’s knowing that you’re both a fucked out mess that sends Simon over the edge, fucking his cum as deep into Johnny as he can. After a few seconds he starts to shuffle both him and Johnny back, for him to finally slip out of you. And for the cum to start dripping without Johnny’s cock to plug you full.

Sliding his fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, he forces the man face first back into your ass, telling him to clean up the mess he’s made. Johnny’s happy to comply, and it’s only once he’s into it does Simon pull out of him, letting the camera get the view of his own cum starting to drop out of Johnny.

Edit;

This is the second version cause tumblr ate the first when i tried to post it.

[buglass]

Funny How Time Slips Away

Mature 18+

Summary: By 2025 in an alternate dystopian future, America is under an authoritarian dictatorship. To sustain the economy, one of the few tricks the government has permitted is biological advances allowing the biggest stars in entertainment to be cloned, trained, and sold to the masses as they once were before. At long last, Elvis Presley’s DNA is next to be developed and brought back to life. Melody Cunningham, a developmental biologist, questions over time if what Truman Laboratory and the government are doing is ethical. Risking her career and life, she must decide if enough is enough to help the new Elvis escape. Pairing: Elvis Presley x Melody Cunningham!Black!OFC Chapters: 1/? WC: 3.6K+ Warnings: Authoritarian/dystopian society AU, oral, p in v, slight age gap, sex worker, uncut, sci-fi sciency biology nonsense, cussing, etc. A/N: This idea popped into my head because who wouldn’t want Elvis to be alive right now? Enjoy this sci-fi/dystopian take <3 Kind of a long one but so much detail had to be crammed in. Likely shorter chapters in the future lol Read Chapter 2 here.

The Washington D.C. lab was as cold as most of the minds that filled it. Melody wasn’t brought up to be emotionless but when the country was turned over into the hands of one man and the government bent over to follow, much of her life had changed as she knew it. So she put on the facade of being a loyal subject and obsessively studious. Melody wasn’t much of a fan of anything to do with structure and working out of an office, so she focused on majoring in STEM. The only way she felt her mind could be stimulated in the way music, television shows, and movies did for her was by being on her feet in a lab.

Melody chewed on her bottom lip as she flipped through the notes on the tablet. As the underling to the head biologist, she was meant to double and triple check stats and findings on the subjects. That’s what the people in their vats were meant to be referred to--subjects. Not human beings or real people. Lately, the older she got and the less naive she became to the government’s rule, Melody quietly questioned if she could live with herself. Since she joined Truman Labs last year after six rigorous years of higher education, she put on a show of doing what she was told and doing it better than anyone else who came before her. Melody’s eyes drifted over one famous face after the other, recognizing a few and others not as much. 

Checking the queue of who was next to fill the empty columns was nothing abnormal. Her eyes drifted over the list of five new names, using her index finger to scan over each paragraph describing the traits attached to the subject. The very bottom of the list and final name stated ‘Elvis Presley’ and his specimen number ‘EP3577’. Melody heard of Elvis Presley, sure, but since the government regulated the Internet since she was a teenager, delving into older celebrities and music was based on physical media she could obtain. 

In the following months, Melody bit her tongue and did as she was told. Elvis’s DNA was collected back in his Army days, she read, the notes describing how his specimen was obtained were as simple as that. It was the company’s way of assuring there was more DNA to spare if need be. A short clip, to her surprise, showed a young Elvis Presley in black and white getting his hair cut on a military installation that stood today. Melody was taken by the sadness that crossed his face and the smile he put on for show. 

The weeks carried on until the sac surrounding what could appear to be a fetus grew rapidly within its vestibule. Melody watched and monitored him as the weeks grew into months and he was a full-fledged young man of about twenty to twenty-one years old. That’s how the government and the world liked them. Each celebrity was youthful and spry so they ultimately had a long enough lifespan to be useful again. Melody didn’t know what it was about him that stuck out to her besides how handsome he was. She had seen plenty of handsome men and beautiful women come through the lab. Knowing he died at forty-two may have affected her or it was the commercials broadcasted as of late promising to bring him back to the stage. 

She hated it.

She hated knowing they would soon keep him under lock and key the same way the real Elvis had been. That’s what her grandmother who raised her was able to convey one of the nights they met for dinner.

“Now, baby, we shouldn’t talk much about Before. I don’t mind it. They already know how excited folks are about Elvis returnin’.” Her grandmother said.

“Yeah… I was just curious.” Melody offered. Her grandmother had no clue that she worked for Truman Labs. Only that she’s a scientist with an okay-paying job that helps her get by on her own to afford an apartment and modest car.

“He was just eccentric. One of the first White boys that brought flavor and rhythm to America’s attention. Back then,” she clasps her hands over her bowl of food. “Similar to now, you weren’t supposed to be gyratin’ and swingin’ your hips on TV. It was lewd. I’m surprised they want to bring him back at that age.” 

“Do you still have some of his records?” Melody asked, stirring her food nonchalantly.

“Of course, baby. Go on and listen to whatever you like. Finish up your food first, you’re a growin’ young girl.”

“Grandma, I’m twenty-five years old,” Melody laughed.

“You’ll always be my baby. Now hush and eat.” Her grandmother dismissed, causing Melody to smile.

That evening she reacquainted herself with Elvis Presley’s music and gratefully enamored with the vinyls of Elvis simply talking or being interviewed. His southern drawl was much thicker than some of the southern twangs Melody encountered in the metropolitan area. 

She softened for him a little more, hardly noticing it once she was back at work.

The following week, Melody was checking vitals as necessary but lingered on Elvis a while longer. The application displayed everything from Elvis’s heartbeat to statistics of survivability. The lead biologist, Randall, wandered over to her side and crossed his arms over his chest as he peeked over to the tablet. He was pushing forty or already well into his forties. She wasn’t sure. The gray hairs among the brown strands and his bushy mustache threw her off. He was lean and tall, a bit too wiry for her liking. Melody knew when he was nearby because he always sprayed too much cologne. 

“You’ve taken a liking to him, haven’t you?” Randall, leaned over to whisper jokingly.

“Ha, ha. I’m only being cautious so months of our hard work comes to fruition,” she glanced over to him and then back to Elvis. His genetically blond hair was spliced into being as black as his mother’s. It was insisted upon to save costs on his appearance. Melody watched his floating and bobbing figures, a couple of tubes connected to him swishing in the life-sustaining substance.

“It’s okay to like him. Every girl your age back then did. More or less. The world will be happy to have him back.” Randall nodded, looking up at Elvis. She screwed her mouth to the side while debating what to say and what not to.

“What about his family? Doesn’t he still have relatives that are alive today?”

“Some, but who would speak out against the regime? They’ll end up with a bullet between their eyes before someone intervenes on a family’s behalf.” Randall lowered his voice.

“Right,” Melody answered tersely.

“Are you alright, Mel? You’ve been tense lately.” Randall asked, crinkling his brows.

“This is just…important. It’s nothing more than the usual stress. I’m okay.” She nodded.

“Well, don’t be afraid to let me know if you need to put in some leave. Give the rest of these freeloaders something to do.” Randall said, clapping a friendly hand on her back. He left to check on the said freeloaders and Melody felt her shoulders drop as the tension left her. 

The day came when the five subjects would be transferred to the Training Wing. Melody was anxious about the entire process. The Training Wing could be stringent and border on abusive, from what she heard. Each celebrity clone needed something in particular about them ingrained into them in a small amount of time. Truman Labs was manufacturing nature versus nurture. In the past year, she learned that some things were just ingrained in every person. Sure, they had to be retaught how to play an instrument or act but they picked up on it like they were born to do it. 

One of the other scientists pulled the switch down for the specific group to be drained, a yellow light flashing above his head to alert what was happening. Melody couldn’t stand still, pacing and attached to the tablet as she checked the vitals of all five persons. They slowly lowered to the bottom of their tanks, a few crumpling where they ended up and unable to walk if they tried. Elvis was one of the few that started to come to and open his eyes. His hair hung in his face and he raised a hand slowly to wipe it from his forehead. The awaiting training teams dressed from head to two in white scrubs stood by with five gurneys, two to one. The first few doors were opened with a hiss as they began removing tubes and strongarming the subjects, loading them up onto the carts and strapping their soaked forms in.

Elvis’s head rolled when he was on the cart, his eyes landing on Melody as she stood back. Her full lips parted as his strikingly blue eyes focused on her and his unstrapped arm hung off the gurney as if reaching out. That was strange as the subjects were usually too disoriented to acknowledge what was going on but there he was focused on Melody. She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes back to the tablet, checking his vitals. Elvis’s heart rate had gone up and by the time she was looking at him again, he was using what little strength he had to bat off the training team members. 

“Do you have a sedative on hand?” Asked one of the escorts, a stocky woman.

Melody was distracted by Elvis’s eyes holding her gaze, impressed by how much he shoved against the hands trying to wrestle him down. The whimpering sounds he made tugged at her, stabbing into her gut and up into her heart. There was that uncomfortable feeling again, seeing him as a person and not a lab rat. Melody nodded distractedly once she regained her internal composure. The tablet was left on a desk as she walked over to one of the few refrigerators that held all sorts of drugs and syringes on hand. Melody made quick work of drawing the sedative up into a sterile needle and approached Elvis’s gurney, plucking at it to clear out any bubbles. 

Elvis seemed to calm down the closer she got to him until he saw how sharp the needle was. He made a sound of discomfort, cringing as Melody gained in on him and turned over his arm.

“It won’t hurt too much,” she told him gently. “You’ll sleep,” Melody said, hoping he understood enough. Injecting the sedative, Elvis looked unsure and the space between his brows crinkled. His expression changed within seconds, his face relaxing until his eyes rolled shut.

“Thanks. He’s one strong son of a bitch,” said the same woman. “I thought they hardly knew what was going on at first?”

“Me too,” the male training member cosigned, exhaling a deep breath.

“Yeah, I don’t know. That was new for me, too.” Melody whispered, bringing a hand up into her hair and scratching at her head.

The first few days were always the toughest for the subjects when adjusting to their bodies and their unusually developed minds for their age. It had been just over six months since they were processed in a tube to where they were now under watchful eyes and cameras recording their every move. Elvis had his own housing as they all did. In some form or fashion, the apartment-like housing quarters were meant to replicate where they lived when they were that age as much as possible. The notes labeled his living space simply as ‘Audobon’ for the street he lived on back in nineteen-fifty-six. Every inch of the living quarters was paneled by two-sided glass that Elvis couldn’t see through but any observers could always watch him from room to room.

Melody observed as his caretakers and teachers filtered in and out over the days and weeks, teaching Elvis how to dress and carry himself. His guitar lessons were scheduled here and there in between and his speech therapist would usually follow. He was doing well besides the slight stutter he had grown accustomed to. But, the collective notes reassured her it was very characteristic of him after all. Any other free time was focused on what Melody called 'The Brainwashing' where a VR headset with subliminal images displaying the past of the real celebrity was given to the clone after they were sedated for up to an hour a day. Sometimes music or movies were played over the speakers too while they slept.

Elvis and Melody had yet to see one another directly since he was strapped to the gurney. As was protocol, Melody checked on the subjects solely for their vitals and acuity. Admittedly, she couldn’t wait for the day to come to encounter Elvis for herself. When the day did come, the steel door to his housing clicked as the large bolts holding it in place were unlocked after approval for entry was gained. The stethoscope around her neck felt heavy. Melody held the tablet at her side. She bumped the blood pressure cuff in her lab coat pocket, nervous to meet Elvis though she had long since come to terms that most of the celebrities weren’t who they were made to be. It felt inauthentic to her either way and yet Elvis filled her stomach with butterflies.

Melody stepped inside and waited for the door behind her to shut. Another heavy clunk and she was locked in with Elvis. From what she had observed, he grew used to his circumstances though he sometimes lashed out at the staff when he didn’t quite get his way. He was genetically a Presley--it was fitting. Melody followed the sound of guitar strumming and playing, finding him in his bedroom lying back on his bed in the same fifties garb he would have worn with the guitar atop of him. She knocked at the door out of politeness, shuffling into the room. Elvis lifted his head suddenly, jumping as he looked over to her. His eyes went wide as he moved to sit up.

“You’re that lady from the-the lab? Where they took me from,” he said warily though he appeared awestruck.

“I am. I’m Melody and here to check on your vitals. Is that okay with you?” She shuffled, clasping her hands together and the tablet against her stomach.

“You told me before that shot wasn’t gonna hurt any,” Elvis said, moving his guitar to his side on the bed. “You lied ta me.”

Melody didn’t know what to make of him, squinting just as a smile grew on his face. Her lips parted in thought before she found herself laughing.

“I’m sorry, but I had to be sure you stayed calm. It’s all protocol we have to follow. Not somethin’ I necessarily wanted to do.” She pressed her lips together, amused. 

“Mm, I see. I’m gettin’ used to it, the pokin’ and proddin’,” Elvis said playfully. 

Melody crossed the room humming in return, placing the tablet on the bed. She drew out the blood pressure cuff from her coat pocket and stood in front of Elvis. His socked feet were flat on the floor, his back straight as he let his hands lie in his lap. Melody grabbed a hold of the left sleeve of his button-up shirt to begin rolling it up.

“I’m sorry you’re bein’ poked and prodded,” she amended.

“Most of ‘em aren’t as pretty as you,” he tried as he looked down at her hands. “Otherwise, it’s, uh, not so bad.”

“You are just a baby, you know that?” Melody laughed as he raised a brow. Elvis might have looked twenty-one but to her, he was just a boy.

“Not where it matters,” Elvis smirked.

She should have known to expect it but to her knowledge, Elvis never openly dated Black women. Melody narrowed her eyes and didn’t respond, focusing on the task at hand as she finally got the cuff around his arm. The earplugs to the stethoscope were brought up before she took the bell and pressed it into the nook of Elvis’s arm. His eyes never left her while Melody honed in on his pulse and squeezed the pump to the cuff. Elvis’s free hand began to wander, lifting until it settled on her waist. Melody jumped, unable to bat him away while she watched the seconds tick by on her worn wristwatch. She never thought to take any of the warnings seriously about how much he enjoyed touch and attention. The job should have been mostly in and out. 

That was how most of her visits went and she wanted to be less entertained and inviting to Elvis’s woes and whims, but he was unbelievably personable. His charisma was that of the original Elvis who died in seventy-seven. For the benefit of making Elvis into Elvis, the lab as a whole and inspectors didn’t seem to mind when he grew fond of someone. In their notes, everyone appeared to agree it was for the better that Elvis remained a lady’s man through and through. 

Then came the time for Elvis to be given the first woman of many that he would come to encounter within the lab alone. After a few months of running jokes about watching Elvis touch himself, Melody put her feelings aside for the sake of following rules. A year was coming up since Melody first synthesized Elvis’s DNA and she came to like him and borderline possibly love him. The latter was something she struggled to admit even to herself. As was custom to the rock stars Truman Labs created, there were women on hand and hired as was the norm for the New Age. Agencies of sex workers contracted with the government and most favored working in the biotechnical field strictly for the chance to bed a celebrity. 

Melody could have thrown up. She knew somewhere around this age that Elvis slept with a woman for the first time but she didn’t see why it mattered. When men were in control, it didn’t have to make sense. She guessed it was like they took pity on the male subjects to validate their collective horniness. She was on the evening shift that night, grateful to be mostly alone apart from a couple of others who made the arrangements to provide protection and essentials for a romantic evening. Anyone else was in the Security Center monitoring. 

She roamed around to the glass window that peered into Elvis’s bedroom where a thin but curvaceous woman with a pixie cut dressed in a tight black dress befitting of the fifties era was leading him by hand. Elvis was slack-jawed, a tent bulging in his trousers. Melody tried to refrain from being jealous when they were on the couch watching a movie together and Elvis made the first move, tipping the woman’s chin in his direction to kiss her. She didn’t blame either one of them. 

But why did she feel that way? 

The woman--going by Jenny--pushed Elvis down onto his bed and he grunted, staring up with wide eyes that only a virgin could convey. “I-I ain’t never done this before,” he said.

“Oh, I know, honey. I’ll be real sweet to you. I promise,” Jenny said, her voice buttery and recognizably southern.

Then she was kneeling between Elvis’s legs, rubbing her hands up his pant-covered thighs. Melody swallowed as she forgot about the notes she was meant to be taking as she had done a hundred times before. Jenny reached up to unbutton and unzip Elvis’s pants as he perched himself on his elbows. Elvis released a shaky breath as he lifted up his hips while Jenny wrenched his trousers and underwear away. His uncut cock sprung free and Jenny cooed at Elvis warmly. The way he was trembling, Melody was sure he wasn’t going to last any longer than a few minutes and that meant they would have to book her again. 

Melody groaned as she rubbed her brow, forcing herself to move to a different spot. She wanted to tell herself she didn’t need to look but her eyes were on them again. Jenny was quick since by then her lips were wrapped around Elvis’s length and she bobbed carefully. He held the base of his cock for her, his opposite hand gentle on the back of her head. Melody froze, watching his face convulse and change with every movement. 

“Fuck, baby, you keep doin’ that and I’ll… I’ll come,” Elvis grunted. Jenny made obscene mouth noises as she pulled off of him and his cock jumped as cool air met wet skin. 

“It’s okay if you do. But, I guess I can stop.” Jenny smiled, pulling back. Elvis breathed out in response as if he was relieved to hear it. “Do you have a condom, sweetie?” She asked.

“Yeah, uh, yeah. One second, honey.” Elvis sat up, reaching down into the pocket the pants pooling around his ankles. He dug free a shiny, square blue wrapper that Jenny took as she stood. She moved skillfully, tearing the plastic and removing the condom. Jenny rolled the rubber on familiarly, moving with ease over top of Elvis to straddle him with her dress and heels on. 

Elvis braced his hands at her hips, watching her with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes that caused an ache deep below Melody’s belt. Her heart was racing and she shivered, hoping the attention from every other observer assigned to Elvis that evening was on the couple. Melody was gripping her tablet hard enough her hand was starting to hurt before she noticed. Elvis’s head fell back as Jenny sunk down onto him, eventually lying flat on his back as her hips bounced.

Melody cleared her throat, suddenly sure she had all the notes she needed and could later review the recording if necessary. Elvis’s eyes opened again at some point and he turned away from Jenny to look toward the window he couldn’t see out of. Melody paused again, wary that he could see her somehow. His top lip curled as he moaned out and he shut his eyes again, his hands sliding under Jenny’s dress by her hand showing him where to touch her. Melody turned on her heel to return to her desk in the lab.

“Oh, my God,” Elvis hissed, his voice echoing into the hall over a speaker.

Melody was screwed.

[sakruisin-thru]

the one where you and daichi finally fall into place pt. 1

featuring: sawamura daichi

genre: smut/fluff (minors dni), post-grad au!, tipsy reader & daichi

warning: pt. 1 slow burn, slight smutty, mutual pining, drinking, partying

word count: 2,053

will link pt 2 here!

(a/n: this is my first fic after a LONG time. i had this partly written in my drafts for the past 3 years but i had such a self indulgent self ship in my mind, so it's hyper specific to a certain point. i started this when i was working in cse research and had hopes of continuing that as a degree and really romanticised meeting someone like this.

im sorry if this isn't for you! i'm open to requests

the club lights and blaring french club mix slightly disorient you and your dance partner, daichi. your tipsy state made the setting around you sway.

you and daichi came to paris for a conference to present the research you guys completed over the past 6 months. you guys had a golden partnership in the lab. your lab advisor put you two together because of how well you guys meshed your computer, math and stats knowledge together. it seemed less that you two were working separately on your project, but worked as a unit and brought out each others creativeness and problem solving skills. your collaboration was so compatible you both made it to this point quickly. 

but the quick progress you made, meant lots of time together; at work, around his people and alone. in the beginning you thought you were crazy when you noticed how his eyes would linger on you when you looked back at your screen or when you had collective lab meetings. but then you guys took your work home and things began to progress. 

soon, the flirting became more obvious, especially to his roommates asahi and sugawara, with whom you became close to as well. daichi soon became someone you trusted and respected and you to him. conversations started straying from work to life goals, to ideologies, to literature, to morality, and more. he took the time to understand you and you found yourself starting to fall for him....just a little bit.

he started making subtle advances like holding your fingers when code was executing or when you hung out with his roommates and friends at a bar or at home, he’d sit so close to you that you felt his breath ghost on your skin when he leaned in to speak something into your ear. on those nights, it wouldn’t be unusual for you to find solace in his lap or in his bed, sharing saliva. but it’d just be that. nothing more nothing less since the idea of relationships with a coworker loomed in your head. he never pushed you anymore and you admired that about him.

but one day it almost got too much; not that he was breaching your boundaries, but you had to be careful about relationships in the work area. you didn’t know what was allowed and didn’t want to ask so soon into your working with each other. you were at daichi’s place catching up on a show you started together, while asahi and suga were out with friends. the night started out with you both on separate ends of the couch, then you got cold and started sharing a blanket. and then he was on top of you, his tongue exploring your mouth, moaning softly as he kissed around your face. daichi’s body was perfectly between your legs, his hands wandering down to your breasts. he gave an experimental squeeze. you squeaked in surprise and he laughed lightly into your kiss. 

you were putty when it came to him, wanting only him to touch you and mold you. but suddenly his hands went to the band of your sweatpants and reality came crashing down. you froze up you were no stranger to physical intimacy, but this man was too important and so was work. he was so attentive to you and your body that he pulled away. he knew. 

“i’m sorry daichi” you whispered, holding his head in your hands, looking up at him.

he placed a kiss in your hair, "don’t have to be sorry for anything,” and he just held you. 

that was 3 months ago. 

now here you both are in paris. you and daichi arrived a week before your supervisors in order to get everything settled and hopefully you both could relax. your feelings were adequately covered for the time being, until.....well....

until the hotel over booked and you and daichi were forced to share a room with only one bed, a couch and a bathroom. the situation was downright laughable. here you are trying to shut down the feelings until you could adequately handle them, but the universe had other plans. 

you both argued on who slept where and settled on sharing the queen sized bed, sleeping on opposite sides of bed. but yet again, the universe had other plans, in the form of booze and tight spaces.

the club lights and blaring club mix disorient you. you swing your hips back and forth to the beat at the bar, feeling confident as you take a shot of liquid courage in your veins. 

you saunter over to your group of friends who are sitting at a booth, swaying your hips in your tight red slip dress. daichi is sitting at the end and you pretend to stumble over your feet and lightly collide into him, making him grab your waist. he pulls you close, almost in his lap and your hands land on his chest as you try and “stabilize” yourself.

“you alright there?” he looks worried, but once he sees your playful eyes he smiles, a little confused. his hands don’t waver from your hips.

“oh yeah i’m fine, i just didn’t see the step leading up.” you smile at him. he chuckles at you rubbing circles into your low back. you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, listening to your friends recount various different stories. your friends start talking about dancing and they all couple off and pull you two to the dance floor. 

daichi walks beside you, one arm around your waist and another in his pocket, laughing with your friends. you smiled at them as well as you lowered your arm to wrap around his back.

it’s now or never i guess, you say to yourself. you pull away from daichi, grabbing the hand that lay rest at your hip and spun yourself to face him. daichi looks at you, unsure if he breached your boundaries earlier. but instead he’s met with your devious gaze.

you bring this beautiful man closer to you, swaying your hips to the sensual beat. you swing your arms around his neck and brought your face closer to his. this comes as no surprise to anyone, but daichi knows how to dance. every swing of your hips, he matched. every spin, every step he matched you perfectly. 

as you bring him closer, he came in to chase that distance, eager to feel your lips against his. you decided to pull away slowly. his mouth followed yours, grinding his teeth as he realized what you were doing. mouth agape, he stared at your eyes, plastered with minute betrayal. you covered your face as you stifled your giggle at how upset he looked. time to kick it up a notch. you’ve played this song and dance together so much, why not tease this patient man more?

you turned around to the beat of the music, lightly grinding your hips into him. his hands on your hips tightened. there’s his resolve being tested. you roll your hips experimentally against him one more time and in no time is he’s pressing himself hard and slow into you. his face buried into your neck, hoping and praying that you don’t notice how needy he’s becoming.

but you do. oh yes, how hard (ha) could it be to miss his growing problem. but you decided to mess with him more. you pull away from him, flash him a devilish smirk as you made your way to your friends who were now dancing in a group. they hadn’t noticed your intimate exchange, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. you wanted to tease this man for as long as you could tonight.

the booze made it difficult to hold back. he’s been nothing but patient with you all this while, and all you wanted to do was break that impenetrable composure tonight. but daichi wouldn’t, he couldn’t. he respected and loved you so much. until you gave him the full green light, he would never break.

his composure slipped for a minute, when he was grinding against you. he almost moaned in your ear, but he had to hold himself back for you, even though you started it. so when you broke away from where you both were connected, he was almost relieved. he followed you as you walked away, failing to keep his eyes from your ass. 

over the course of the night, your teasing came in waves. daichi had taken to praying to every god outright. drinks were being passed and you were sitting in his lap again. the group started slowing down, and for you and daichi, the night had to end at about 12:30 am since you had to get yourselves together the next day.

you and your friends left in linked arms, daichi on your right and marcella on your left. you leaned into his tall stable frame, grabbing his bicep as marcella stumbled occasionally on the pavement. his grip went to your waist on the third time she tripped

your friends stayed on the same floor, but you both were farther down the hall. bidding everyone good night, you and daichi made the seemingly never ending trek back to your door. heels in your hand, all you could think about was a hot shower and taking the pressure off your feet. thankfully the promised land, your room door, came into view.

daichi opened the door, and let you enter the room first. you stepped in and leaned on the wall of the entry way as you drop your heels on the ground. he comes in after you, and stands right opposite of you as he takes off his shoes.

you both stood there, breathless, looking at each other in the faint yellow light of the entry way. smiling lightly, your gaze traveled down his face. you saw the way his shirt hugged his muscles and his waist, and his thighs so well defined in his pants. 

you looked up to see daichi looking at you, softly but intensely. daichi’s eyes started wavering down your body. your dress accentuated your curvy waist, your breasts, really accentuated your ass, and it drove him mental. he wanted to devour you right there, to take his time with you making sure you experienced every ounce of love he had for you. you got more intoxicated on his intense gaze.

“daichi....?” you whisper.

“yes?” he whispers back.

you stick your hand out for him to grab. he complies and pulls you slowly to him. every cell in both of your bodies is screaming for no more longing, no more rules, no more damn space. you both have been wanting, pining, pushing (mostly from you), pulling and you’ve had enough. your heart was going to organize a prison break, you needed more.

you weren’t just a wee bit in love with him, you were fully head over heels for this fool. 

“oh to hell with it,” you whispered and pushed into that empty space to kiss him. you kissed him with a fervor that was new. you wanted more tonight...you wanted to be more and all he wanted was to give it to you.

he was all over you in an instant. your hands latched into his hair and he’s pushing you back into the room, onto the edge of the table, lips not leaving yours. he slotted himself between your legs, bunching your dress up slowly to your hips. he rolls himself into you and you feel his semi hard cock hit your covered clit.

you moan loudly into his mouth, eliciting a smile from daichi. he squeezes the fat of your hips and molds them in his hands. you moan more, his actions making you grind more on him. god you might kill him.

“darling,” he whispers against your lips, “say something please. i won’t touch you until you say what you need from me.” 

you pull away and give him an imposing look. his eyes held sweetness, kindness and...fear? always the leader, he was calculating. he was double checking...no...triple checking that you were okay with this.

“i can’t run away from it anymore, daichi,” you cup his face, “i want you baby. all of you.”

“fuck.” and with that he smashes his lips against you again.

[blueskrugs]

I Know I Could Have Loved You | Brock Boeser

at long last, it's here! this is my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, written for @one-night-story! Once again, I am SO sorry this is a bit late, but I had a really brutal week.

I hope you enjoy!!

length: 2000 words

You met Brock Boeser in 2015 when you were both freshmen at the University of North Dakota.

He wasn't your best friend at first. 

In fact, he'd rolled his eyes and when you were forced to partner with him for a stupid project in your intro to stats course. You don't remember exactly when he did become your friend, but  before you knew it your weekends were spent watching hockey games, then going out for fast food french fries with Brock, or lounging in each other's dorm rooms while you did homework. (Or while you did homework, and Brock pretended to do his own.) 

You don't know when you fell in love with Brock Boeser, either, just that you did.

Brock dated a few people while at UND, like most of the hockey players did. They stuck around for a few weeks or months before disappearing. Brock never bothered to introduce you to any of them. You tried to not let it bother you. 

“You should move to Vancouver, "Brock said suddenly one summer day. He'd signed his ELC just a few months prior—instead of returning to UND with you in the fall, he’d be off to Vancouver for training camp with the Canucks. 

You were both tanning by the lake, and you lowered your sunglasses to look sideways at Brock. He wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Brock, some of us have to actually finish college before getting a job," you said. You still had 2 years before graduation. "And why the hell should I move to Vancouver?"

Brock shrugged, all forced nonchalance. "Well, I'll be there."

You scoffed. "Sure, from October to April." You didn't know anyone in Vancouver, excluding Brock, who only counted during hockey season anyway.

"But I'll miss you," Brock argued. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I think you'll manage just fine, Boes," you told him. "You survived this long without me before we met, didn't you? You can keep surviving now, too."

Brock pouts at you, but doesn't argue the point further, so you think that's the end of it. You put your sunglasses back in place on the bridge of your nose and settle back against your chair. You can’t deny that it leaves a nice fuzzy feeling in your chest that Brock thinks he’ll miss you so much that he’s begging you to join him in Vancouver.

Brock doesn’t bring it up again that summer, or for the next two years as you’re finishing up college, and you forget about the whole thing. The years pass; you graduate. 

Brock comes to your graduation party, kisses you on the cheek, and spends the afternoon charming your parents and your friends from high school and from UND. Brock always manages to stay within your orbit, never more than arm’s reach away from you. It’s nice, to have him back at your side like this. 

It's only when the party is over and Brock is helping clean up that he springs the question on you again.

"Have you thought about it at all?" he asks, apropos of absolutely fucking nothing.

You've had a few drinks, and it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up. "What?" you ask. "Thought about what?"

“Moving to Vancouver with me."

You already have a job lined up in your hometown. You haven't thought even once of moving to Vancouver instead.

"Brock, I can't just move to another country."

"What if I want you to?“

"Oh, sure, that will go over well on a visa application. ‘Because my bestfriend wants me to.’"

Brock sticks his tongue out at you.

"You should at least come and visit me," he pleads, "I really think you'll love it."

You roll your eyes at Brock. "I guess I can make time to visit,” you say, ignoring Brock's exaggerated cheer before he squishes you into a hug.

Brock manages to talk you into visiting him in June, because—in his words— "It's prettier in the summer."

He's not exactly wrong, you have to admit, after a week of traipsing around the city with Brock. You're watching a firework show with your head on Brock's shoulder when you realize you're starting to picture yourself in Vancouver, starting a real life here.

"D'you really think I could get a job here?” you murmur to Brock during a pause in the fireworks.

"What?” Brock asks. He turns to you. His blond hair glows in the light of the fireworks overhead. "Never mind,” you whisper back.

You begin searching for jobs in Vancouver that night, in the quiet darkness of Brock's spare bedroom.

Before you know it, you've lined up the perfect job—even better than the one you'd originally found back home, not that you'll ever tell Brock that—and Brock has helped you find an apartment in the city. 

"It's not far from me,” Brock had told you when he was helping you move in, "so you can come over and walk Milo and Coolie whenever."

"Oh, is that the real reason you wanted me to move out here?” you tease. "Free dog walking?"

Brock shrugs innocently but chuckles. "Well, I need someone to watch them when we're on road trips and stuff.”

You throw a wad of bubble wrap at him.

Later, while you and Brock are eating pizza on your living room floor, Brock flops into his back and sighs. You poke him in the head with your foot.

"You good, buddy?” you ask.

"What do you think of dating apps?” Brock says, which isn't really an answer.

You've always been too scared to try dating apps yourself. Instead of telling Brock that, you say, "You're a professional athlete.” And a very attractive one, but you don’t say that part. "What do you need dating apps for?”

Brock looks up at you from his sprawl on your floor. "Because I'm tired of being single?” he asks.

You flip him off. You don't say, I'm single, too, you could always date me. You got used to putting aside your feelings for Brock a long time ago.

"And you think dating apps are the solution? You didn't have any issues getting people to date you in North Dakota.”

Brock rolls his eyes. "I didn't play for the Canucks, then. It's all people I meet now seem to care about.”

You're still not sure how dating apps will solve that problem.

As if he hears your unspoken question, Brock continues. "At least this way, I can weed out puck bunnies or whatever a lot faster, instead of wasting my time.” He cranes his neck around so he can look at you directly. "So will you help me or not?” 

You think you'd rather get stabbed directly in the heart than to help Brock date someone else, but you never could say no to him.

"Fine, whatever,” you say. "Gimme your phone.” 

You're already regretting your decision less than ten minutes later as you watch Brock scroll through his camera roll to add pictures to his profile.

"You can't use your official headshot!” you tell him, trying to snatch his phone. "People are going to think they're getting catfished.”

"I don't have a lot of good pictures of myself!” Brock protests.

You've nixed three more photos—all pictures Brock has evidently stolen from the team's social media—("Why the hell do you save all these, anyway?”)—when Brock throws his hands up and passes you his phone.

"You do it then,” he tells you.

Brock's own camera roll is obviously useless, so you pull out your own phone. It only takes a few minutes of scrolling for you to pluck a handful of good photos out of your camera roll and Airdrop them to Brock. He's looking at you a little strangely when you hand his phone back.

"What?” you ask.

"I didn't know you took so many pictures of me,” he says. 

"I don't take that many,” you defend weakly. It's not like you have an entire album on your phone of pictures of him, or anything. 

Brock drops the subject, but you still feel uneasy as you continue helping him finish his profile. The two of you spend almost an hour bickering over which prompts to choose or the answers Brock writes for them before Brock deems his profile "good enough”.

"'Good enough?'” you argue. “This profile is a masterpiece,” you declare. "We'll get you cuffed in time for Christmas.”

Brock snorts at you. "All thanks to you,” he says, smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You try not to feel any particular way about it.

Brock spends the next few weeks bringing you his dating app matches to "approve.” He even shows you some of the funny ones—mostly girls tripping over themselves for the chance to sleep with The Brock Boeser of the Vancouver Canucks. He gets a lot of matches. 

You try to muster the appropriate enthusiasm for Brock, as he seems to be throwing himself into this endeavor with all the energy he throws into hockey.

It's hard, though, when all you can do is compare yourself to them. You wonder what Brock sees in them that he’s never seen in you.

Brock never seems to notice if your encouragement is lackluster.

Matches turn into a revolving door of first dates for Brock. A few times, first dates turn into second dates, and even into a third date or two. 

You force yourself to stop obsessively keeping track of his dates, and to pretend like each date he goes on doesn't drive the knife even deeper into your heart.

Brock's in the middle of telling you about his latest date—you think he’s been seeing this person for nearly a month—when he stops abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

"Are you okay?” he asks.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?” you say. It doesn’t sound very confident, even to your ears. 

"You've got that look on your face, the one where you're mad at me, but trying to pretend that you're not.”

You try to arrange your face into something more neutral.

"I'm not mad at you, Brock,” you say. You don't think he believes you. 

"So why do you always get all—” Brock gestures vaguely at your face. “—pissy whenever I talk about my dates?”

"I do not! And besides, I didn't know moving to Vancouver meant a front row seat to your dating life! Don't you have teammates to talk about this shit with?”

Brock scoffs. "They don't care about my dating life, and, apparently, neither do you.” 

"Brock, it's not that I don't care—” 

Brock cuts you off. "Then what is it?”

"I care too much!”

"What?” he says.

"Dammit, Brock, why don't you want to date me?” you snap.

Brock shakes his head. You probably shouldn't have said that.

"What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

"You heard me the first time, Boeser. Why are you searching all over Vancouver for someone to date when I've been here the whole time?” 

Brock takes a step closer to you. You take a step backwards; your kitchen is small, and you end up trapped against the counter.

"The whole time? "Brock repeats dumbly.

You could slap him. "Yes, Brock. Boy, it's a good thing you're pretty and good at hockey, because you can be really stupid sometimes.”

"Hang on,” Brock says. He's moved even closer. "How was I supposed to know?”

"Do you think I'd more to another country for anyone?” you ask.

"Oh,” Brock says. Then he says, "For how long?”

"Huh?”

“How long have you been in love with me?” Brock asks.

“I don't know, sometime freshman year, I guess.” There was never really a lightbulb moment for you; your feelings for Brock grew and morphed so slowly you almost didn't notice until it was too late.

Brock kisses you then, crushing you up against the cabinets with the force of it. His hands are warm on your hips, his lips gentle and firm against yours.

You pull away, a little breathless.

Brock grins at you. “If I had known this was an option, I would have kissed you a long time ago.”

"So, can we delete that dating app now?” you ask, forehead resting on Brock's shoulder.

"We can do whatever you want,” Brock says, leaning in to kiss you again.

You suppose deleting his dating profile can wait a little while.

[ladykailitha]

The Eddie Munson Guide to Dating an Oblivious Jock Part 2

LOL! I am loving the reactions for this. This is going to be part fun, with a little a seriousness, because Steve does have to be built up a bit.

Part 1

*

Step Three and Four: Getting your crush alone and Building Their Self-Esteem

This next two are interchangeable depending on your jock. If you think building their confidence is needed before you get them alone, you’ll need to do that first. But you if think that getting them away from their peer group first is essential to building their confidence; get them alone first.

“I think with Lucas,” Max said, “I would need to get him alone first. Because I don’t think he realizes how much they look down on him.”

Eddie nodded. “I did the opposite way with Steve. I needed build his confidence in front of everyone else, so that they would stop picking on his intelligence.”

Max nodded. She had been there for a couple of those smack downs. And she approved.

Now that you’ve established a shared interest, you’ll want to get them alone with you as often as possible. It’s harder to make moves on oblivious jockus, when there are others around to block you, make fun of your attempts, or even catch on to what your doing. Because if they figure it out before the jock, then they’ll tell him and ruin your plans. You want him to come to you all on his own and not because his friends told him to.

But as I said, I had to build his confidence first.

“Look, I know what a gorgon is,” Steve complained. “And I know what a demogorgon is. But what you just said right now, the gelatinous cube thing? That sounds like something I did at a rager.”

“Can you not talk about your slutty past while we’re talking about D&D, please?” Dustin asked, rolling his eyes.

Steve threw his arms in the air. “I’m not! I’m just saying it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!” Mike cried. “It nearly ate me. And it destroyed my shield. And and part of my armor!”

“This isn’t real life, man,” Lucas said. “I know we’ve gone up against some pretty heinous shit, but in the game world it’s pretty scary.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth and he grinned that closed mouth grin that made him look condescending. Steve raised an eyebrow, fully expecting Eddie to join in on the dog piling.

“It’s pretty lame, guys,” Eddie said, kicking back and putting his feet up on the table, interlocking his fingers behind his head. “In fact it was pretty pathetic you got caught in it all.”

Steve pointed to Eddie. “See?”

Eddie grinned. “I was bored. And we weren’t really moving forward in the campaign so I threw it at you to see what you would do. And Mike pretty much tripped and fell into it.”

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all winced.

“And Steve is allowed an opinion,” Eddie growled. “Even to an outsider, a gelatinous cube sounds lame. Now everyone apologize to Steve.”

The three boys looked at each other in shame and they mumbled their apologies.

Steve straightened up.

Once you start building up his esteem, give your jock opportunities to show off his intelligence.

Steve was waiting for Eddie to divvy up gold and experience. He frowned at all the stats they were rattling off.

“How do you keep track of all this stuff?” he asked.

“Well,” Mike said with a sneer, “if you weren’t so slow...”

“Hey,” Will defended. “You try remembering all that stuff with three concussions.”

Eddie just shook his head. “It’s not about intelligence, Steve. It’s about interest.”

Dustin frowned. “No it’s not.”

“I can prove it,” Eddie replied. Steve had his hands on his hips, his mouth a firm line. “Hey, Steve whose team is arguably the best in the NBA?”

Steve’s frown deepened, but he starting talking about who had the best defense and whose offense was superior before landing on a specific team.

All four boys stared at him in shock.

“Now who understood that?” Eddie asked, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

Lucas raised a tentative hand.

Eddie nodded. “Because you’re interested, right?”

The boy nodded.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie called again, this time Steve looked a little less leery. “Who do you think will win the World Series this year? Not your favorite team, but the best one overall.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. And he rambled on for about five minutes explaining who had the best chances of going all the way.

Again all mouths remained slack jawed and all eyes remained wide open.

Eddie grinned. “Now who understood that?”

Will raised his hand. “A little. My dad used to watch baseball.”

Mike nodded. “I understood that a little bit more than I did the basketball.”

“That’s because someone you know would watch it all the time,” Eddie said, “that you kinda pick up a little bit. But you wouldn’t be able to rattle off those stats yourself, right?” He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table.

Mike and Will shook their heads.

“It’s just like I can name all of Metalica’s albums or my five classes in D&D,” Eddie continued. “Steve isn’t slow or stupid. He just has different interests. And it’s not as though you had all that D&D stuff memorized when you first started. And I bet Steve didn’t either, but years of watching and playing gave him that knowledge.”

“How did you know Steve could do that?” Dustin asked.

Eddie laughed. “He and my Uncle Wayne get together on the weekends when I’m practicing with my band to watch sports. They are often argue stats.”

Steve stared at him in shock and then blushed. “I didn’t realize you were about paying attention.”

Eddie just smiled.

Once you’ve given him chances to show off his smarts, make sure you shut down further attempts from his friends to insult his intelligence.

Steve was cleaning up after movie night with the help of Eddie and some very reluctant gremlins.

“You guys made the mess,” Steve insisted. “You get to clean up. Except Max, who, you know, is still using crutches?”

Max smiled up from the couch. “I get to supervise!”

Steve laughed. “Which you won’t use to lord over us at all...” he said sarcastically.

She just grinned bigger.

Steve started by handing out assignments. Lucas was on garbage duty, Will and El were on dishes (the only two Steve trusted not to break anything), Dustin was on vacuum duty, and Mike was wiping down counters.

Mike rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a sport, Steve. Just tell us to clean up and we’ll do it.”

Eddie paused from where he was putting away the food in the fridge. “No you won’t.”

Dustin frowned. “What? Yes we will.”

Eddie scoffed harder. “No, you won’t. As evidenced by how you guys clean up after D&D.”

Lucas stopped picking up the garbage. “We help.”

“You do,” Eddie agreed. “Will, too. But Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here,” he pointed to Dustin and Mike, “will sit on their asses and chat about the campaign, while the rest of us clean up.”

Dustin and Mike opened their mouths to argue, but Eddie leveled a glare at them and they closed them again.

“Besides,” Will said, “there’s nothing wrong with everyone being assigned a task. It gets everything done quicker so we can all go home.”

Steve smirked. “And order isn’t just about sports. Even you guys have an order in your game, right? Initiative, right?”

“But that’s different,” Mike whined.

Eddie grinned. “You remembered!”

The boys paused and then turned to Steve with open mouths.

“I told you guys it was about interest,” Eddie said. “Right, Steve?”

Steve grinned. “Right, Eds.”

“I still can’t believe he missed the fact that you paid attention to his interests,” Max said, rolling her eyes.

Eddie shrugged. “I think he was impressed, but didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

“I mean Steve gives as good as he gets most of the time,” Max said, “but even I didn’t realize what a number they’ve done on his self-esteem until you started calling it out.”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t think anyone realized it was affecting him. Because like you said, he can bitch with the best of them.”

“It’s some times the questions are dumb,” she said, a bit defensively.

“You talking about the vampire/Vecna comment?” Eddie asked.

She blushed. “That’s one of them, yeah.”

“Is it really that outrageous that the Upside Down might have vampires?”

She paused and thought about it. She huffed a laugh. “No I suppose not.”

Getting your jock alone. Depending on their friend group this can either be very easy (offering to do something together that the rest of the friends don’t want to do) or very difficult (having friends that are willing to go outside their comfort zone to spend time with them).

“Steve must have been a hard one to get alone,” Max said.

“Very,” Eddie agreed. “And it wasn’t just people wanting to hang out with him, it was someone or several someones wanting rides. So I had to get get creative.”

Steve showed up the government funded house with Robin in tow.

“Buckley,” he greeted warmly. “I didn’t realize you were coming, too. I only got stuff for two of us.”

Steve blushed. “We looked up the movie at work and she thought it sounded interesting. I guess I should have called before we came over.”

Robin on the other hand looked unapologetic. “It’s fine, I brought my own goodies!” She held up a bag of Twizzlers and a bottle of soda.

Eddie sighed and let them both in. He put in the movie and sat in the middle of the sofa, forcing Robin and Steve to sit on either side.

“Why do you get the middle?” Robin asked.

“My house, therefore I get the best seat,” Eddie said smugly.

Steve looked around him to look at Robin in the eye. “He’s got a point, Robs. Plus, we did surprise him with your presence.”

Robin rolled her eyes and settled into watch the movie.

Eddie had seen it before so there weren’t even anything so much as a thrill, but Robin had her hands in front of her face, fingers spread so that she close them in a hurry if she needed to.

What Eddie loved was when Steve jumped twice. Because each time he jumped, he got closer to Eddie. By the time the ominous warning came at the end he was practically glued to Eddie’s side.

“Nope, nope, nope...” Robin said. “Never again. I don’t even like old horror, I’ve decided.”

Eddie shrugged. “I mean I was assuming that Steve and I were going to watch it together and he was going to preview it for you. Like he usually does.”

Robin’s jaw dropped as she looked at a smug Eddie and a Steve that had “I told you so” written all over his face. It wasn’t mocking or cruel.

She crumpled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have crashed your movie night. It was mean and apparently stupid. I won’t be doing that again, that’s for sure.”

“How the hell did Steve not recognize his own moves when thrown directly in his face?” Max asked, rolling her eyes.

“Obliviousness is their best trait after all,” Eddie teased. But the smile slid from his face. “With Steve?”

“Yes,” she said, realizing he was about to drop something deep about the boy she considered her brother.

“I think it’s because in all the time he’s dated, he’s never once been the one that got taken care of,” he murmured. “He’s had to shoulder all the emotional burden. So cuddling up on the sofa watching a scary movie didn’t register because he’s always watched those kind of movies alone first and never had someone to lean on when he got frightened.”

“That sucks,” she deadpanned. “I’m glad he has you, Eddie.”

“Me too,” he said softly. “Me too.”  

Now that you’ve established that there won’t be any further interference from the best friend, set up a regular time to do the activity. That way it becomes a routine that when asked if they’re doing something at that time, they’ll say they have plans.

“Come on, Steve,” Dustin said. “We want to go to the arcade today, they’re having a two-for-one special on pizza when you buy a game pass.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I told you have plans. Ask someone else.”

Dustin let out an exasperated sigh. “We did. We asked Eddie, but he has plans, too!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“You know, we call our jocks oblivious,” Max said, “but their friends can certainly be dense fuckers too.”

Eddie laughed. “I know, right?”

She shook her head. “Who did they think you had plans with?”

Eddie shrugged. “My bandmates would be my guess.”

“But then you would have said that,” she said exasperated. “Who did they think Steve had plans with?”

Eddie laughed.

“Robin will be fine if you don’t spend every waking moment with her,” Dustin continued, rolling his eyes. “When was the last time you went to the arcade with us?”

Steve’s other eyebrow shot up. “Last week, dude. And the week before that. I have plans. Both Mike and Will have siblings that drive. Hell, now that Argyle is back in town, I bet he would love to try out the arcade, he’s never been.”

Dustin looked leery. Steve threw his arms in the air and stormed over to the phone. He pulled the rolodex of party numbers that he kept on the counter closer to him and hit “A”. It went to Argyle’s number and he dialed it.

“Bro!” Argyle greeted.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” he said with a smile.

“My dude,” Argyle said cheerfully. “How can I help you on this fine fine day?”

“Hey, the kids wanted to go to the arcade today,” Steve explained, “But Eddie and I have plans, so I was wondering if you wanted to go. They have a special on pizza today and they wanted in on that.”

“You said the magic word, my dude!” Argyle said. “Pizza is my middle name. I just don’t know where the nugs live.”

“You know where I live, though, right?” Steve asked.

“Of course, man,” Argyle said with a grin. “Biiiig house. Hard to forget.”

Steve laughed. “You can pick Dustin up here and then he can direct you to the other ‘nugs’ houses.”

“Sounds totally awesome, my man!” Argyle said happily. “I’ll there in fifteen.”

Steve hung up and turned to Dustin with a raised eyebrow. “Now was that so difficult?”

Dustin sighed. “No...”

“I remember that!” Max said. “Argyle brought Jonathan and they were way more fun then with Steve because they didn’t try and mother hen us.”

Eddie laughed. “He just gets worried because he’s seen you guys in way too many situations that were literally life or death. It kinda skews things.”

Max clicked her tongue. “That’s fair.” She paused for a moment. “So we’ve established a routine, what’s next?”

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @this-is-mycrisis @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @artiststarme @steddie-there @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @thebrazilianatheist @rozzieroos @whalesharksart @mightbeasleep 

[stellarspecter]

Vampires and Werewolves and Demons, Oh My!

@stevieweek Day 3: Girls Night + Dice Roll: 9. Monsterfucking

Rating: T | Words: 803 | platonic stobin, pre-steddie and pre-rovickie

just some silly girls night banter! wrote this in like an hour, bon appetit (and thank you stevieweek for making dividers for us!)

read on AO3

“Listen, I’m not saying I wanna fuck a werewolf,” Stevie says, “I’m just saying I maybe wouldn’t necessarily be against it.”

“Sounds like a werewolf fucker to me,” Robin dryly comments.

“No!” Stevie exclaims, yanking her hands away from Argyle’s surprisingly talented manicure so she can gesture suitably. “I just said I wouldn’t be against it! Like, if I met one and they were hot and they asked me to, I would, but I wouldn’t, like, seek it out.”

Nancy hums, considering, then nods. “Yeah, I can see it.” She rises from where she was hunched over Robin’s hands and caps her bottle of nail polish. “Besides, with how much you liked getting hickeys, you’d be more into vampires anyway.”

Stevie gapes at her, betrayed. Robin’s cackling joins Argyle’s stoned chuckles. “You —! I trusted you! What happened to ‘being exes doesn’t matter, we can just be friends?!’”

Nancy just laughs. “That doesn’t mean I don’t remember what you were like when we dated.”

Argyle nods sagely. “Using insider info for an accurate monsterfucking profile. I dig it.” He offers her a fist bump, which she carefully accepts. 

Stevie snorts. “Fuckin’ ‘monsterfucking profile.’ What are you even talking about.”

“Like, a video game character with different attributes,” Robin adds, hands spreading wide in front of her so as to not smudge her wet nail polish. “High score in werewolves, but you’ve maxed out your vampire stat.”

Stevie gives her an unimpressed look. “You sound like one of the nerds.”

“Oh, you mean I sound like Eddie, your best friend Eddie?” Her demeanor changes on a dime to a new simpering character, looking up at Stevie with wide eyes.

Stevie scoffs. “You’re my best friend, dingus, you know that.”

Nancy doesn’t hesitate to jump on the bait. “Oh, he’s not your best friend, he’s something else? Like, say, a crush?”

Stevie groans and falls back onto the pillow-covered floor from their earlier movie marathon. “For the last time, I do not have a crush on Eddie.”

“Are you into devils and shit too?” Argyle asks nonsensically. Stevie stares at him. “You know, like —” He mimics Eddie’s horns pose, tongue out. It looks a lot more silly when he does it. “Cause he does have vampire vibes but I think he sees himself as more of a devil/demon type creature.”

“Argyle,” Stevie starts calmly, although she doesn’t feel anything close to it. “Are you asking me. In real life. If seeing our mutual friend Eddie Munson do his stupid little devil horns. Gets me hot and bothered?”

Argyle shrugs in that unbothered way of his. Stevie doesn’t know how he does it. “Whatever greases your wheels, amigo.”

“Oh my god no it doesn’t fucking —” Stevie takes a deep breath. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. And if I did,” she sends a warning glance around the room. “It wouldn’t be because I want to fuck him as a vampire or a demon or whatever the fuck. Okay?”

Her statement seems to pacify Nancy and Argyle, but Robin will not be swayed. Typical. “Sure, Stevie,” she says with an exaggerated wink.

Stevie sighs frustratedly and crosses her arms. “Alright, do you want us to talk about monsterfucking your crush? You seem to like Vickie playing in band, I bet you want her to be a siren and lure you into dangerous waters or some shit.”

Robin splutters, and Stevie grins. Finally some satisfying payback. “I never said tha—”

“I bet you’d sail your ship into the rocks just to get a taste of fish pussy.”

“How do you know these words!” Robin’s arms flail, trying to disperse the laughter now filling the room at her bright red face.

Nancy parrots, “Monsterfucking her crush? So you do agree Eddie’s your crush?”

Stevie puts her hands over her face in a fit of despair. “Why am I being literally cross-examined about Eddie fucking Munson right now,” she moans.

“It’s Girls Night, Stevie,” Robin tells her. “This is what we do. I thought you wanted to be included?”

“I did,” Stevie says, guarded. “But that was when I thought it was just watching chick flicks and painting our nails. Also, why’s Argyle here if it’s Girls Night?”

They all turn to him.

“It’s my luscious locks, brochacho,” he explains. “And I give good relationship advice.”

“Really?” Stevie says, intrigued despite herself. “What’s your advice right now?”

“About you and Eddie?” He looks up at the ceiling, contemplative. “You should probably tell him how you really feel,” he says. “You’re doing a really bad job keeping it a secret.”

All Stevie can do in the face of such great betrayal is throw a pillow at his head. Good thing it turns out no Girls Night is complete with a pointless-argument induced pillow fight by the end of it.

[sneezypeasy]

*sigh*

Y'know, this really doesn't/shouldn't matter, but as this particular accusation keeps getting thrown at me over and over again - oh fuck it, I'm gonna take the bait this one time and set the record straight once and for all. Honestly my "appetite" in this context is truly not anyone's business (and if you don't care to hear about it this is the one warning you'll get to click away lmao) but I've reached the point where if you really wanna attack my credibility based on who you think I enjoy fantasizing about, I'm gonna throw you a bone and tell you exactly what type that is - cuz as much as I'm sick of the ad hominem attacks the Aussie in me is even more sick of watching them miss so fucking hard. If you're gonna roast me, the least you can do is hit me where it hurts, goddamn it. Get it right or go home you uncooked noodles. Capiche?

When it comes to my taste in men, my "type" is: big, strong, hairy brutes. There, I said it. Give me lumberjacks, give me cavemen, I want my Jason Momoas, I want my Ma Dong-Seoks, I want them broad shoulders and tree-trunk calves and I wanna see those muscles bulge. If a fictional character ever gets me biting my lip at the screen, it's never gonna be a fine-featured pretty boy, it's gonna be a good thick daddy who can take my wrists, pin me against a wall and [--------------------------------‐---sustained bleep sound effect---------------------------------]

1:38-1:51 🤣

Personality wise, I'm a basic bitch who has approximately zero defenses for the "jerk with a heart of gold" stereotype. Gets me every time, without fail. The smooth-talking playboy who flirts with everyone and who could bed anyone he wanted, but who only lets you see him at his deepest, dearest, most vulnerable moments? Sorry, am I supposed to not fall for that shit or something? Well frankly I don't understand how and I'm not ashamed to admit it. If he happens to be built like a fortress on top of that? Yeah, I'm done. Have me bathed and brought to your tent, sir, please and thank you.

I admit, it's rare that a character with the physique I like also has that heartbreaker personality I'm a sucker for. Guys in fiction are usually strong and mean or they make up for their lighter frames with silver tongues and barbed promises - rarely do writers create a character who's stacked with both brains and brawn, so to speak. Makes sense though, as while irl people can max out any combination of stats that they put effort towards - in fiction a character who's too good at too many different attributes can come across unbalanced or Gary Stu-ish and will fail to resonate with audiences unless the writer really knows what they're doing.

That being said, there really isn't any character in ATLA who fits my type - either of them, actually. There are some bit characters like Chit Sang who get close in terms of physical build - but Chit Sang has very gaunt, angular facial features that I'm really not a fan of and tbh, while I get that I can't expect all my big buff boys to also be masters of wit and cunning and charm, being dumber than a box of rocks does seal it for me, sorry. In terms of personality, I guess the closest character would be Jet, and he's cool and all but yeah, the whole "would go as far as killing kids" thing makes him a bit of a hard sell for me too. (And yes, it's worth questioning the writers' choices to create him with those flaws to begin with but look, that's a discussion for another day 😂)

All this to say, if you wanna tease me about coveting fictional characters and allowing thirst to cloud my judgment - COME AT ME BOYS. But not with Zuko, for fuck's sake. The character that makes sneezy.exe blue-screen ain't him. It's actually the late great Carthaginian General Hannibal Barca, the man the myth the legend may he Rest in Peace if anyone's seriously wondering. Look, I do like the scar, and the awkwardness is endearing - he's definitely not ugly or unappealing by any means so please don't misunderstand, I'm not trying to bash him or nothin' - but if I'm being brutally honest, he's not my type! Not physically, not even emotionally. If I ship Zutara, it's because aspects of the ship appeal to me that are unrelated to my personal opinion of Zuko as an object of fantasy, which if you must know (and now you do, congratulations, you're welcome), the kind of boy I do fantasise about when I'm in the mood for that sort of thing could literally and figuratively sweep Zuko off his feet - and then sit on him. In either order.

P.S. While we're on this topic, the character I personally relate to most heavily is not Katara either btw. It's Toph. If you're going to accuse me of bias, questioning my views on Toph would make the most sense for that reason. But really, it's hardly my fault that she's basically the most perfect flawless irreproachable badass in ATLA or practically all of animation as a whole. Come on now. *whistles innocently*

[plaindangan]

I'm not entirely sure if Its the blog to ask it but eh, its danganesque enough! Oh nuuuuu, the ladies of project eden's garden are locked in a killing game, the DRAMA. Anyway something something plot, and to get out they must wear slutty costumes and show off their curves. Look I dont know what plot to put this around, basically a disguised tierlist of THICCNESS of the project eden's garden gals, like,tsumugi judging ranking and analyzing the SEX appeal of the girls (in front of them, and tsumoomoo being a total GOONER (who also takes her job very furiously, she wont hesitate to be harsh and even condescending to flatties plain er than plain!) (with each having a stat for boobies, butts, tongue length (as im told by people it matters) and body type (looking at u muscle mommy ingrid) as well as (if you feel like it) sexy costume wore)

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

Bust Size

Ass Size

(Forgot Mara - she's in Big and Booty-ful)

Tongue Length

Body Type

(Not in order of favoritism, just a listings of body types so far)

Costumes

(Not in order of favoritism, just a listing of their costumes)

-

"I hear someone wants moi's opinion on the new upcoming spin-off show of Team Danganronpa? Why, I'd be glad to give you a behind the scenes assessment of this nine beauties~"

Tsumugi's Report:

"Best Boobas: "C-come onnnn, this is torture!! Both Eloise and Ingrid are so damn FULL it's unreaaaaaaaaal!!! Who to choose?!! A usuall ynaked-apron having, sweaty, mega-pecs flashing, Ingrid?!! Or a walking wardrobe malfunction that can rival Cowede's in sheer TANK size?!! God it's so haaaarddddd!!....Least Toshiko is a breeze!! Sorry short-stuff, but while shortstacks are appealing, it's better to have some booba than none at all!!!"

"Best Booty: "Okay, this one was a landslide, but it's not as if the others weren't trying............it's just Eloise set the bar too darn high~ Her pudgy, clapcakes, are just, mmmmmhhhhhhhhh!!! Too damn scrumptious!!! It just blows everyone else out of the water, especially Grace - poor bunny has ZERO ass~ Honorable mention to Toshiko and Cassidy!! Toshiko really puts the STACK in shortstack and all those gaming sessions on her ass for Cass really paid off~"

"Best Tongue: Like the chameleon she's fond of, Diana's tongue is friggin' huge! You wouldn't believe me since she's so good at keeping it inside...but get her horny enough? Goddd, it's like if Genocider was a cutie-pie from the staaarrrrrtt! Also do have to give respect for those like Grace who almost cinched the win, Wenona (money can buy you quite the 'pop' sucker, huh?~) and Eva (can see why she gets away with so many lies~). Too bad this is also the category where Ingrid just lacked, admittedly. These days, regular plain-ol lickers just aren't doing enough for the audiences..."

"Body Sizes: "Feels like this is an accurate assessment over which beauty goes where. Though, personally, the network favors pushing girls that are on the muscle mommy side (like a certain ASSassin~) or kind of busty and thicc (a cow-ish pianist would know) As such, Mara, Ingrid, Diana and Eva would generally be the winners here."

"Costumes: Tsumugi's Rating Time!!! They were tasked with wearing a sexy outfit that corresponds with their animal theme!! Let's see how they did!!:"

Cassidy - "Gotta admire a good Spiderman cosplay....albeit, it would have been better if she didn't wind up buying the cheapest one around. All those rips, especially in the peach area, while it makes for good fanservice, it doesn't quite make for good cosplay. 1/5"

Diana - "Attention!! A slutty soldier enters the arena. AKA Diana with a rolled army shirt up to her boobs and a small camo green cargo shorts. But, that's not all!!! Any skin that was showing was covered in quite the impressive body paint as well~ Now that's creative! 5/5"

Eloise - "We really needed to get her a more fitting costume or suggest better stores for her to go to. The ballerina idea was a great idea, but whatever pinhead gave her that costume had it too small for her so....it was pretty much malfunction central~ 2/5"

Eva - "You might wonder how one can make a plague doctor be sexy given how much they cover up. Eva can tell you that at least~ On the surface she was dressed up in quite the thick set of coats...but that was just a feign! Once she took those off, she showed off her skin-tight, leather, bodysuit that was HUGGING her figure! Excellent misdirect!! 5/5"

Grace - "A pink bunny suit!!! Honestly, expected given the hat (if a bit on the plain side), but she really makes it work!! After all, what better than a dirty-talking Aussie woman shouting at you to throw her tips while she poles poles dances for you!! The viewers just eat those sort of things up!! 3/5!"

Ingrid - "I will forever respect Ingrid's dedication to the bit. Sure, her attire was just too darn short and exposed everything from minute one. Sure, she was a bit too rough in her movements and had top & sleeves midway through. Sure, her attempts at making ketchup art on eggs just...had her put too much force into it...but darn she tried and that's what matters!! 1/5"

Mara - "Our resident silent, but sexy girl!! She might not express it much, but I think she really loved dressing up even more than the others. Her ninja outfit had quite the incredible hip vents, that sarashi showed juuuust enough cleavage to it, and can appreciate the full-on face mask given her usual style. Also helps she brought an actual katana with her as well!! Props for her for doing her best!! 4/5"

Toshiko - "Stunning!!! She was a flamenco dancer with quite the moves to back herself up...and, well, back 'it' up as well~ Yeah, you can bet your own booty that Toshiko was shaking her's, and with her curvy hips going into overdrive, it was a performance that really highlighted that she knew her stuff. 4/5"

Wenona - "Money can't buy you happiness, but it sure as Hell can buy you a good berserker outfit. Fur capes, boots and, God that fur bikini was stunning!! It really highlight how goddamn beautiful this rich bitch was and it wasn't as if she neglecting the 'brutal' side of a berserker as well. She even got her own axe to to slice at some wood they brought in - and cut them clean in half!! Guess Wenona is just a perfectionist for these types of things~ 5/5"

"Final Rankings - the P:EG girls were judged and given points based on their placement in the categories, AKA the first two. Getting in first place nets you two points and getting in the second spot gets you 1 point! For the categories of Body Size and Costumes, judging based on how got a '4' and '5' for the latter, and for the former those who the network prefers gets a '2'."

"Now....tallying up the scores we get -!!!!"

"DIANA VENICIA!!!!"

"Congratulations!!! When it comes down to it, this girl just new had the perfect know how to blend in to this environment and be consistently in the top Networks eat cute, yet busty, girls like her for breakfast, that tongue of her's is just PERFECT for getting fantasies to go wild, and her cosplay game makes me just want to hire her for some 'less than safe for work' practices~ Ahhhhhhhh!!!~ She's bound to be a fan favorite for when Eden's Garden first chapter comes about, so all eyes stayed glued to her and her 'talents'~ Director Shirogane demands that of you!!!"

[theresattrpgforthat]

Learning How to Play Protect the Child: Part 2, Assembling Your Dice

If you have never played a Forged in the Dark game before, picking up one can be intimidating, and that includes Protect the Child. In a previous post, I introduced the Action Roll, as well as Position & Effect. Today, I’m talking about how to assemble a dice pool.

Assembling your dice before you roll involves a number of steps.

Describe Your Action.

In order to start a roll, you have to describe what you’re trying to do. The GM will ask you which stat you’re going to use. In standard Blades, there are 12 different actions. In Protect the Child, there are 5.

The GM defines Position & Effect.

The GM will tell you what your starting Position & Effect. If you are not sure which of your stats you are using for something, they might tell you what your Position & Effect would be if you used one stat over the other. For example, if you’re trying to convince the Child to put down the nice gang member please, you might be using Heart or Tongue. The GM might state that if you use Heart, this is going to be Risky/Standard -> but if you use Tongue, this is going to be Desperate/Greater.

Consult your Gear.

If you have a piece of gear that would help you, you can use it to improve your roll. In standard Blades in the Dark, gear is used to improve your Effect - but in Protect the Child, you can choose to either improve your Effect or add +1d. Unless stated otherwise, your gear doesn’t go away when you use it - although you only have 7 spaces for it on your character sheet.

Consult your Background.

Your character has some things figured out about their background before you start playing. This might include their look, their chosen trade, or a relationship they have with an NPC. If any element of your background would make this action easier for you, you can use it to boost the Effect of your roll.

Ask for Help.

You can ask others around the table to help you, if it makes sense in the fiction. A player who helps you out simply has to describe what they do to help you, and mark 1 stress on their stress clock. You get +1d to your roll, or increase your Effect. In base Blades, the maximum amount of dice you can get from teammate assistance is 1.

Push Yourself, or Accept a Devil’s Bargain.

You can also mark stress on your own stress clock to add +1d, but you’ll have to mark 2 stress when you’re pushing yourself. If you don’t want to spend stress, you can instead ask the GM for a Devil’s Bargain.

A Devil’s Bargain allows a player to add +1d to their dice pool, but in return for a consequence: something is going to happen regardless of whether you succeed or fail, and it’s not likely going to be good for you. The GM will describe the Devil’s Bargain, and you will then decide whether it’s worth the risk. You can always turn down a Devil’s Bargain if you don’t like it.

Playbook Abilities.

There are some playbook abilities that will give you +1d or boost your effect in specific circumstances. For example, the Outlaw Outcast can roll with increased effect when using an item they just picked up in their surroundings. This means that as long as they’re scavenging for things, they can boost their effect for free!

Roll!

Once you’ve gone through these steps, you should have a pool of dice. If you don’t have any dice to roll after all these steps, you’ll have to roll 2 dice and take the lowest number - not great!

In Part 3, I’m going to talk about what happens after you roll, and what to do with all those consequences that are likely going to come your way.

If you want to start learning how to play Protect the Child, I recommend taking a look at the Google Spreadsheets linked on the store page and flipping through the character tabs. The Quickstart characters are 90% fleshed out and can give you an idea of what different character pieces can look like, and there’s a rules reference for how to roll underneath the stats for each character.

I also believe that playing is one of the easiest ways to learn, so if you want some hands on experience, hop into the playtest discord! There is at least one game happening every week designed to be easy for first-timers to hop into and give it a whirl.