#was doing pretty well with it untill last night :/

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

A moose on the loose

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary When you go on a date with another guy, Sam finally gets up the courage to admit his feelings to you. Too bad the motel is too far away for the sudden heat rising between you two. Luckily, Sam borrowed his brother's car. CWs Shy idiot Sam turns into confident & cocky Sam. Light sub/dom tones with a sprinkle of brattiness. Sex in the Impala. Big feelings and big orgasms. 18+. 10.1k kwords AN This fic was in part inspired by this lovely ask!

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

Sam runs the pad of his middle finger over the “J” key on his laptop while he peers over the screen, watches as you’re going through your bag while chatting away to Dean, and his thoughts are wandering.

You’re laughing at something his brother just said, but Sam didn’t hear it. In fact, he hasn’t been following the conversation at all. There’s other things he’s paying attention to, though. 

Like the curve of your breasts under your shirt. The way he would like to latch his lips onto the skin there, the one that’s probably soft as silk. How he would love to press his nose against it, how much you probably smell like you there. 

Like the perk of your lips. How much he wants to run his thumb over your cupid’s bow, then down a little, maybe press the tip of it between your lips. Look into your eyes as you press your tongue against the digit.

Like your laugh, the one you’re laughing right now, how he would love to know if you would laugh like that after he made you come, hair tussled, chest still heaving. If you would roll over, sling your arms around him the moment he pulled out of you, search him out, keep him close, kiss him. 

Sam clears his throat, looks down at the laptop screen, one hand going over the lower part of his face. All the things he wishes he could do, and has been wanting to do for ages. And now he’s never gonna get to do any of them.

Because you’re going on a goddamn date.

Sam finds comfort in reason, in logic. But they both seem to have fled the country since you announced your plans for the evening earlier - going out with the young deputy who helped the three of you on this case. He’s good looking and charming and waited until the case was over to ask you out, and he seems to be a good guy. So Sam can’t even object to this date as your friend, share his worries about the man with you. He has no one to blame but himself. Because Sam never made a move. 

Dean’s been bugging him to for ages. Told him that exactly this would happen. But Sam insisted that you’re his best friend, not some conquest, that these two things are totally different, and Dean should mind his own business. Not everyone’s constantly out to get laid. Sam isn’t. He isn’t with you. What he wants isn’t about sex. Well, it is, but it’s not all about sex. What he wants to do with you is way more than that.

But even Dean’s given up, which is probably a bad sign. So Sam has no one to convince that this is all just a matter of friendship other than himself.

You don’t make it easy, either. You stay close to him, you’re affectionate and touchy. Normal friend things, Sam assumes, but he’s not sure, because he never had many friends growing up, and certainly none that deal out love and affection as easily as you do. 

Just then, you suddenly move, walk around the table and up behind him. Lean down and sling your arms around his shoulders.

“Sammy,” you say, voice serious, “the case is done. Can you take a break for like, two minutes?” You’re referring to the fact Sam’s already scrolling through newspaper articles, despite the fact that you burned some bones just last night. He huffs, shifts, inadvertently pressing closer to you. 

“No rest for the wicked, right?” he tries to joke, but it falls pretty flat. You lean to the side, look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Can the wicked take a lunch break?” you ask and it makes Sam chuckle, despite the way the closeness to you is making him feel like he should be watching the way he sits. 

“Alright,” he says, closing the laptop. You squeeze him a little, parts of you bumping into parts of him and Sam presses his lips together.

This happens all the time. Sam sighs under his breath, dipping another fry into ketchup, then dropping it on the plate. Dean’s chatting up the waitress over at the counter, and you’ve gone to the restroom, leaving Sam to sink into his thoughts.

He should just get up. He can almost see himself do it. Walk over to where the restrooms are. Push open the door. There’s a magical Do not enter, cleaning, wet floor or whatever sign that he could put in front of the door.

You’re just coming out of the stall, looking up with a surprised expression and the next second, Sam’s crowding you, making you back up again. He grabs your face, holds it on both sides and then finally kisses you.

You immediately moan into his mouth, of course, because you’ve been wanting this just as badly as he has. You wrap your arms around him, pull him close and when his hands find your breasts, no, your ass, you gasp his name. 

He’d pick you up, hands under your suddenly naked thighs, both of you, just naked, with no explanation, and you’d have your arms around his shoulders. You’d kiss him again before he lowers your body. Right onto his cock, waiting there for you.

He can only imagine how soft you’d be, and open and warm. He’d move you up and down, and you’d use your leverage from having your legs wrapped around him, the soles of your feet boring into the meat of his ass, and you’d moan, say his name, and oh my God oh my God, yes, fuck, Sam, yes, and–

You drop into the bench opposite him and Sam flinches, straightens, then leans forward quickly. You’re still looking around, but then your eyes land on him, and he knows he must go beet-red from the tip of his nose to his ears. You raise your eyebrows.

“Everything okay?” you ask and Sam quickly nods.

“All good,” he replies, way too quickly, praying to anyone who will listen that his semi will go down before the three of you leave.

When you’re back, you excuse yourself to your room, while Dean sits in front of the TV, shoes on the small table. Sam looks around awkwardly, thinks about what he should say, but then he doesn’t say anything. Just walks into the bathroom. Let Dean think he’s taking a dump.

He undoes his belt. The erection is mostly gone but whatever he feels for you is still burning hot inside his stomach. You’re going on a date. Goddamn it. He hates everything about this. 

It’s not right, he thinks, as he spits into his hand, begins stroking himself, the frown on his face deepening. He’s just some random– actually, none of you know anything about him. He could be dangerous, a monster trying to lure you away. Except of course you tested him with holy water and silver. Except of course the truth is that Sam’s just jealous.

He closes his eyes, tries to think of you. Imagines you sitting on the counter next to the sink, one leg raised, one index finger beckoning him closer, all exposed to him. His cock gives a violent twitch, but nothing more. He imagines stepping closer to you, kissing you first. How your lips would feel smiling against him, your hands running up his arms slowly.

But then he looks up, in his imagination that is, and it’s not him kissing you, it’s that asshole deputy, and you’re moaning into his mouth, grabbing his hand to press into the waistband of your underwear, and fuck–

“Fuck!” Sam presses out, drops his hand. Being able to rub one out to the thought of you used to at least help him focus his mind, get back to reality when you’ve touched him a little too much, or that one time you sat on his lap at the bar, joking that he was the only clean surface in the whole place. Now he can’t even do that?

He tugs himself away, thoroughly unsatisfied in every way. Turns to wash his hands in the sink, giving himself a mean frown in the mirror.

“Get your shit together,” he mumbles, his reflection refusing to clarify exactly what he means by that.

Evening approaches, and Dean is still in front of the TV, now with a beer in his hand, occasionally letting out an impressive burp, while Sam’s back at the table, scrolling through news, although he can’t find a case to save his life. He’s down to disappearances of pets. Not very promising.

There’s a knock at the door, and then your voice calling out. You twist the doorknob and step inside.

If Sam had any issue getting it up to the thought of you earlier, he sure doesn’t to the sight of you now. He feels his stomach drop and his balls pull in at the same time as his eyes roam, no, stutter over you.

There’s your legs, and he’s seen your legs before, or parts of them, but he never realized there was so much… leg. All the way up to just under your ass, and the reason he can see all of that, all that skin, is because you are wearing a ridiculously short skirt. His eyes travel up, and he swallows. The top accompanying the skirt is showing less skin, but it’s tight in all the right places. Your hair is off your neck and there’s some glitter on your eyelids and color to your lips, and that has to be the goddamn icing on the cake, because Sam doesn’t know you to dress up. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you do it.

It makes him wild and sad in equal measure. That it’s for someone else, not for him, that you’re doing it at all, and what the hell is this guy making you think, that you need to change or do something differently? Is he blind? Dumb? Evil?

You bring your hands in front of your body just as Dean gives a low whistle, stands from the couch.

“You clean up nice,” he says and you give him a friendly smile. 

“Turns out there’s a girl under all the blood and guts,” you joke and Sam wants nothing more than to tell you that he knows, that he’s seen, because you’re his girl, his, and he’s always seen you.

“I’ll say,” Dean says, then takes a sip of his beer, pushes his free hand into his jeans pocket. “Deputy picking you up?” You nod.

“Yeah, he just texted, he’ll be here in a minute,” you say and Dean nods, and then, maybe cause there’s nothing more to say, or maybe cause you and his brother have secretly agreed to make Sam’s life hell, both of you turn to him, looking at him expectantly.

Sam needs to clear his throat before he talks.

“You look really nice,” he says, his voice still sounding scratchy despite his efforts. You nod slowly.

“Thanks,” you say, your face unreadable, your tone neutral. There’s silence, perfect silence for a moment, so much silence that Sam can hear the water rushing through the pipes in the next room.

“Well,” you finally say, “I should get going. Unless there’s some reason I shouldn’t?”

And is Sam going crazy or are you looking at him expectantly, like you’re waiting for him to say something? He throws a panicked look at Dean who’s still watching him, but that’s not helpful so he turns back to you.

“Have fun?” he says, half suggestion, half question, all internal screaming. You press your lips together.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice flat, and then, after thinking for a second, you add: “Don’t wait up.”

With that final blow delivered, you turn on the spot and leave the room. The door falls shut behind you. Sam can feel his brother’s eyes on him, but he just slowly lets his gaze wander lower until it’s on his laptop screen again.

After a minute, he hears Dean move, plop onto the sofa again. Sam just keeps staring at the missing poster of a Russian Blue named Fidor, whose owners miss him dearly.

It’s about an hour until Dean has had enough. Sam’s puppy dog face and dropped shoulders are bad enough, but he also keeps sighing theatrically every couple of minutes, and the whole thing is just too damn depressing. 

Sam keeps stealing glances at his watch, both the one on his wrist and the one on the wall, like he’s somehow hoping to catch one of them misbehaving. Then back to his laptop, jaw clenched. 

Dean gets up, walks over to the mini fridge, grabs two new beers. Walks over to Sam and watches his little brother study the screen with a deep frown.

“You want a beer?” Dean asks and Sam just makes an unintelligible grunting noise. Dean narrows his eyes, keeps approaching, then sets the beers down on the table before he grabs his brother’s laptop, turns it around.

“Dean!” Sam protests loudly, hands going out to grab for his possession, and Dean’s expecting something depraved, but then he looks. He raises his eyebrows at Sam. 

“The deputy’s Facebook profile?” he says, shaking his head. “Really, Sammy? Can’t you just be normal and look at porn?”

Sam’s all pout and shifty eyes.

“I was just making sure he’s not some monster or something,” he mumbles and Dean clicks his tongue, shakes his head again and puts the laptop down.

“He’s clean,” he says, reaching for one of the beers. “We checked him in, like, every possible way.” Sam doesn’t move for a moment, then his hand goes out, closes the laptop.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Dean watches his brother for another second, then sighs, sits down opposite him.

“Look,” he says, voice less combative as he leans forward. “She’s probably having a really good time right now. So either go out, do some of that yourself, or finally have the balls to ask her out.” Sam’s head shoots up.

“What?” he says, a completely unconvincing mask of confusion coming onto his face. “That’s not– We’re just friends.” Dean groans.

“You have been into that girl from the moment you met her,” Dean says and Sam scoffs.

“No, I–” he says, but Dean won’t let him talk.

“And she has been flirting with you for almost as long,” he continues, “and you somehow still managed to think she’s just being friendly.” Sam opens and shuts his mouth, no sound coming out. 

“That’s not–” he finally says, but Dean is goddamn sick of it. 

“Do whatever you want, Sam,” he says, then stands. “But you’re being a fucking idiot. She’s just going for the next best thing cause you can’t be bothered to show her you care.”

With that, Dean turns, walks back to the couch, and plops back down on it. Feet go back on the small table and his eyes turn back to the TV. 

Which is why he doesn’t see the expression on Sam’s face change. It goes from panicked to something else, something determined. Something brave. If this was a movie, there would be some heroic music, but there’s not. Instead, Sam stands, quickly, self-assured. Dean looks his way, immediately noticing the change in his brother’s demeanor.

“Can I borrow the car?” Sam says, voice tensed and a slow, proud grin spreads on Dean’s face. He reaches into his pocket, drags out the key, and throws it towards Sam in a high arch. Sam looks down at it when he catches it, then back up at his brother.

“Go get her, tiger,” Dean says, and it’s the final push Sam needs. 

He moves towards the door, quick and determined, drags it open and stalks outside, settled with a goal now. 

It’s only a second later that the smile vanishes somewhat off Dean’s face. The door is already falling shut behind Sam, but still Dean raises his chin.

“Hey, don’t do anything in the car, you hear?” he calls out, but there’s no one left to listen to him.

Sam’s intent on not breaking any speed limits, seeing as this is a small town, seeing as it’s not like he’s overreacting or anything. But then he wonders if he’s already too late, if he waited too long. It’s only been an hour, but who knows? Maybe you’re already paying, maybe you’re already driving over to his place, maybe you’re already in his bed, any thought you could have had about Sam in the process of being fucked out of you.

His foot turns into lead at the thought.

You told the brothers the name of the bar you were going to, but as Sam pulls up, he realizes it’s more of a restaurant. A fancy restaurant. He distinctly remembers you saying that any place that charged more than ten dollars for a burger and fries deserves to be burned to the ground. You must hate this place.

There's valet service by the entrance, so Sam parks all the way at the back of the lot. He sticks out like a sore thumb when he walks inside, all flannel and jeans. Jesus, maybe you do like this? Did he get this completely wrong?

There’s soft piano music inside, and Sam looks around, just as a man in a dark red vest approaches him with the kind of smile reserved for cockroaches and gum stuck to shoes.

“Good evening, sir,” he says, and he couldn’t sound more disdainful if he tried, “may I help you?” Sam keeps looking around, over the guy’s head. You’re not there. He can’t see you and you’re not there, and that means you already left, left with the deputy before the main course was served because that’s how eager you were to get him alone. Sam feels panic thrumming away at his heart like a small, angry bird.

“Sir?” the guy says again and Sam finally looks at him.

“‘M looking for someone,” he says, useless information, but he hopes it buys him another couple seconds, so he looks up again and then he sees you.

It’s like time standing still. You’re sitting, turned in his direction. He can see the back of the deputy’s clean haircut, the one that he probably got at the local barber shop. That guy’s never had the pleasure of having you cut his hair, towel over his shoulders, the calming sound of scissors cutting away. Sam doesn’t let anyone touch his hair, only you. You cut it the way he likes. Don’t make fun of it for being longer. You do this thing at the end where you run your fingers through it once, nails scratching against his scalp and he looks up at you and he thinks he would like this to be the only thing he does for the rest of his life. 

You’re so beautiful then. Just as beautiful as you are now. Sitting there, head slightly tilted. Or as beautiful as you are in the morning, pillow crease on your cheek still when the three of you get an early start or don’t have money for two rooms. Eyes still half shut and a little disoriented. Or when you and Sam sit outside under the stars, share a beer, talk for hours about everything you want from life and then go quiet for just as long, still communicating, just differently.

It’s like something warm and solid spreading in his chest. He’s in love with you. How could he ever try to deny it? It’s the most simple thing in the world.

“Excuse me,” he says, not taking his eyes off you, and then he walks past the guy in the vest. He says something, but Sam’s not hearing him.

You spot him when he’s about fifteen feet from you. Turn your head, still smiling, maybe just having registered that someone is approaching, but when you see it’s Sam, your expression changes. Something curious, maybe slightly amused. He sees you take a deep breath.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes unable to leave you. “Sorry to just show up like this.”

You’re still looking at him, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the room. Everything else is far away. Serenity, plain and pure. 

“That’s okay,” you say, voice soft. “Something wrong?”

“Y–yes,” Sam presses out, because you’ve just given him the perfect in. “There’s an emergency and we need your help, actually.”

Sam finally manages to tear himself away from you, looks at the deputy, who is throwing confused looks between you and him.

“Sorry about that,” Sam quickly adds, then turns again when he sees you stand up out of the corner of his eyes.

“Well, if there’s an emergency,” you say, letting the sentence hang there, and Sam can’t believe you are that eager to believe him, to come with him, because usually, you like to let him know that you know when he’s fibbing. But now, you’re grabbing your light jacket and your handbag. The deputy, however, stands too.

“Can I help?” he asks, throwing you a desperate look and it makes a brief flash of guilt shoot through Sam. He swallows. “Anything I can do?”

“No,” Sam says, way too quickly, because getting you out of here only to have that guy hang around again, giving him a chance to be even more heroic and charming, isn’t part of the plan Sam has. Or doesn’t have, technically.

“I’m so sorry about this, rain check?” you’re already saying, though, and then you take a step away from the table, throwing an expectant look at Sam. “Well?”

On the way outside, the guy in the vest throws Sam another look. He’s hurrying, he realizes, then slows down when he notices you’re slower than him on your heels. Neither of you says anything while walking to the car, which Sam knows must mean you know something’s up. If you believed there was actually an emergency, you’d be pelting him with questions.

The two of you make it to the Impala, and Sam begins unlocking the door, when he realizes you’re not next to him. He pulls out the key, and turns. You’re standing just a few feet away from him, arms wrapped around yourself, looking more beautiful than a sunset. It makes Sam’s heart beat faster.

“Sam,” you say, voice serious, “what’s really going on?”

And how can Sam explain it? Explain what he just did, the most bullheaded, selfish thing in the world. He didn’t really think beyond getting you away from the date, beyond just wanting you away from Deputy Charming. It’s selfish and stupid and it makes his throat feel tight.

What words can he say to make you understand? Maybe there aren’t any.

Looking back, Sam’s not sure where he takes the courage from. Where he finds it in himself to look at you for another second, expression curious and then to cross the distance to you in two long, quick steps. What possesses him to raise his hands, take your face in them and kiss you.

He has to lean down but he’s already standing so close and doesn’t want more distance, so there’s an intense stretch in the muscles at the back of his neck, the top of his shoulders. It means he has to tilt your face up, and for a second he panics you don’t want this, won’t want this, will push him off, and he’s so much bigger than you, so naturally it’ll be a struggle. That’s what makes him pull back, in the end. The realization that he has no idea if you want what he wants.

He barely remembers the kiss, which might mean it wasn’t good. He pressed his lips against yours and that’s all he’s really aware of. He drops his hands, takes a step back, breathing hard. You’re looking up at him with an expression he can’t read. It’s not until you move that he knows your intentions.

Your front crashes against him with how quickly you move. Your hands go to the sides of his face, this time, and Sam’s not fast enough to react, too stunned, so your lips briefly graze his chin before he manages to get his mouth where he wants it. His own hands fly to your sides, holding you somewhere around your ribs but not moving, too stunned to be doing anything, too overwhelmed by the fact that you are kissing him back.

Your lips are soft and perfect, he realizes that part, and it makes it feel like someone gives him a striking punch into the stomach, not entirely unpleasant. Those are your lips. And you smell so good. He wants to concentrate on the smell but it’s hard, because he also wants to move his hands, feel more of you, as well as listen to what sounds you’re making, just a small huff, but maybe there’s more, and there’s altogether too much of everything, and his brain just keep flitting around, trying to focus on anything. 

After a minute, you stop. Drop down and only then Sam realizes you were standing on the tips of your toes, heels already making you taller but not tall enough. Your hands go from his face to his shoulders and stay there as you look up at him. Sam catches his breath, looking down into your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice raspy. You shake your head a little.

“Only be sorry if you don’t finish what you just started,” you reply.

For a moment, Sam can’t believe it, is sure that this is a dream or some kind of illusion. He can’t possibly get that lucky. It can’t be. But he looks into your eyes and he sees a spark in them he’s never seen before.

His arm goes around you and then he’s turning the two of you around, without really knowing what he’s gonna do before he does it. Your back meets the side of the Impala, hard enough to make you gasp and Sam would worry about it being too hard but you’re pulling him down to kiss you again. His lips crash into yours and he’s in heaven.

It’s searing. It’s hot and it’s spine tingling and Sam gets one hand to the side of your face, thumb running hard over the skin of your jaw, fingers tangling in the hair behind your ear. You’re grabbing at his sides, pulling him against you and Sam indulges himself, presses against you, pinning you between his body and the car and then you moan into his mouth.

Sam nearly sees stars at that. He pulls his head back to look at you, but you go after him with your lips and they run over his. His eyes fall shut at that, and whatever he was going to do or say disappears into thin air as he kisses you again, hard, needy. Now that he’s had a taste he can’t get enough.

He feels his eyebrows go up when he feels something wet against his lips. He parts them and the next second your tongue is pressing against his. He pushes back, then runs his over yours and he thinks he’s about to go deaf, blind and dumb when you press yourself against him, move your leg so that one of his is between yours and then push down.

This time when Sam separates from you he has to catch his breath. He blinks his eyes open, looks down at you and when he sees you slowly open yours as well, he needs to swallow. Your pupils are blown wide and you’re breathing hard through parted lips.

“Do you–” he says, feeling his cock twitch violently at the sight of you, “do you want to go back to the motel?”

It’s daring, that’s for sure, but your response to him has been so clear that it makes Sam feel brave. You bite down on your bottom lip, which makes Sam press his leg a little higher, leading to your eyelids fluttering and a soft smile spreading on your lips.

“Too far,” you say, opening your eyes again. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Sam. I’m done waiting.”

Sam’s head spins. You’ve wanted this and he was just sitting by, twiddling his thumbs, and his dick, if he’s being honest. And now you’re here and you don’t even want to wait the fifteen minutes it takes to drive back to where there is a nice bed, a locked door. Or maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly the reason you don’t want to go back.

Sam looks past you, into the dark interior of the Impala. Dean has clear rules. But his brother’s not here, with the woman of his dreams is grinding against his thigh, telling him she wants him. Surely if anyone understands the significance of that, it’s Dean. So Sam reaches past you, opens the door to the backseat. You turn your head to see what he’s doing, then look back at him, grinning wide.

You push yourself up, press another kiss to his lips. Softer this time, but no less teasing.

“You should get inside,” Sam hears some cocky part of him say against your lips, “unless you want me to bend you over the hood.” 

He feels shock at his own words just begin growing in the pit of his stomach, but then he sees the catch of your breath, the slight widening of your eyes. Okay. Okay. 

He takes a step back, very reluctantly, to make room for you. You slip past him without dropping your gaze, but you don’t miss the opportunity to rub along him in a very suggestive manner. Sam almost pulls you back, but then doesn’t. 

You scoot down the backseat, tossing your bag onto the frontbench. Sam needs to nearly fold himself in half to climb in too, and you giggle just as you wiggle out of your jacket, throw it on the frontbench too.

Sam’s spent many a night sleeping in the Impala. Curled up on the backseat as a kid and then teen, and even as an adult. But he’s never fucked in it. He’s too big for it and he knows it’s gonna be a logistical challenge, nothing like a nice, broad bed. His feet might hang off of that, but he’ll still get to spread out.

But then he looks at you, beckoning him closer with a finger, just like in his imagination, and he decides he’ll break every bone in his body if that’s what it takes. He sits, then reaches his arm out and pulls the door closed behind him, making the dome light turn off. When he turns back around to you, you’re already moving.

One of your knees is on the seat and you press yourself towards him. Sam opens his arms just in time to not have them caught between your bodies. His hand runs up your side, up your front, one finger grazing your breast and then back up to your face.

You pull back from him a little, the streetlight from outside leaving half your face in shadow. You look at him, seem to think for a second.

“If you think this is too fast–” you say and Sam quickly shakes his head. If he was still thinking with his head, he might think that. But he’s seen what happens when he decides to move slow and maybe it’s time he does it differently. After all, his body is screaming for it.

“I just,” he says, needs to swallow, shifts around a bit. “I just don’t want this to be a hook up. I mean… that’s not what this is for me.”

You look into his eyes, then nod slowly. Your hand goes to his chest, resting there. 

“That’s not what it is for me either,” you say and Sam slowly inhales because he’s sure your words are gonna make him dizzy. “But I really want you, Sam.”

He kisses you again before you can say another word. Deeply, intimately. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. You kiss him back and then Sam doesn’t think anything anymore. Not until he hears the clink of his belt.

He looks down, his mouth dropping open and breath catching at the sight of your hands slowly undoing the buckle. He looks back at your face and you’re watching his expression, looking entranced, hungry. Sam swallows, then lays his hands over yours. You give him a questioning look.

“Wanna get you ready first,” he says, lowering his chin to hide behind his hair when he feels a blush spread over his face. You press yourself closer against him.

“Oh yeah?” you say, a sinful smile twitching on your lips. Sam nods.

“Yeah,” Sam replies, bringing his face closer to yours, your sweet breath fanning over his face.

“And how are you gonna do that?” you ask, challenge in your voice. “We’re a little short on space, in case you hasn’t noticed.” You indicate the car around you.

Sam purses his lips. Logistical challenge, just like he anticipated. If he had room, he could lay you down on your back, get between your legs. God, how he would love that. But he’s gonna make do. 

“You know,” he says, shifting around a little, one of his thumb caressing the soft skin on the back of your hand where he’s still holding your hands, even though you’ve given up the battle for his belt. “You know how you sometimes sit on my lap?”

You raise your eyebrows, give a small nod, but say nothing. Let Sam continue. He licks his lips.

“I know you think that’s not a big deal, maybe, or just something friends do, but it, uh… well. It always drives me wild.” You grin.

“To be fair,” you cut in, “that’s kinda what I was hoping for.” Sam can’t help himself but grin too, moves his face closer to yours, ghosting his lips over your cheek without making contact.

“Is that right?” he says in a low voice and notices, with utmost pleasure, that you’re shifting around too. “Well, it worked. Made me damn near come in my pants a couple of times.” You moan again, and it goes to Sam’s head like a large sip of whiskey. You want him. You want him. And it turns you on to hear that he wants you too.

“And what I would imagine,” he continues, voice even lower, feeling brazen, “is that I would grab you, kiss you. Push my hand between your legs.”

“Sam,” you moan, pressing yourself closer, the swell of your tits pushing against him, making him feel high.

“And that you’d just keep wiggling like that until we both came,” he continues and then you grab his face, kiss him again, your breathing going hard and Sam knows he’s completely lost to you. 

His hands blindly fumble, going to your naked thighs, but luckily you have the same idea as you press yourself higher. Sam’s sitting on the bench, facing the front but you turn yourself, lips barely detaching from him, struggling for a moment in the confines of the car, then turn so that you’re sitting on his lap, legs off to the side, on the bench, your back pressed against the glass of the window. You’ve sat there before, so Sam knows the weight of you, the shape of your ass pressing against him, but now that he can enjoy it and doesn’t have to act all cool, it feels more amazing than ever before.

You sling your arms around him, kiss him again. Press against him, your right ass cheek against his crotch and Sam thinks he could die happy like this. You press harder and a small moan escapes him, making you giggle.

“Too much to handle?” you ask and Sam wants nothing more than to fuck that sass right out of you. He will. All in good time.

Instead of answering, his fingers start dancing up the inside of your leg. He hits a spot that tickles and you giggle, press your tongue between your teeth, which Sam can only just barely see with how close you are. You press your forehead against his when he reaches the inside of your thigh, a sound he’s almost tempted to call a whimper leaving you. He stays there, drawing lazy circles on the skin until you get restless.

“This what I left drinks for?” you ask. It sets soaring heat free in Sam’s stomach. Jesus, he had no idea you’d be so cheeky, so demanding, so, so… bratty. His stomach twists at the word. It feels perfect.

“Fucking brat,” he mumbles against you, and this time he’s sure it’s a whimper that leaves you. 

He pushes his fingers higher and you open your legs wider, let him in.

You’re warm, that’s the first thing Sam notices. Warm, heated. For him. For his touching, his closeness. He pushes his hand further, now hidden by the fabric of your skirt and then his fingertips connect with the fabric of your underwear.

Sam notices two things: they’re cotton, and they’re drenched. He presses his forehead harder against yours, almost bruising. His other arm tightens around you, palm going over the side of your ass to pull you closer. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, a fact obvious to both of you but his brain still feels the need to utter it. You nod against him.

“All for you,” you whisper to him. “All for you, Sam. Just thinking about you. Cruel to leave me waiting like this.” Sam pulls his head back a little, looks into your eyes.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says, again not sure where the cockiness is coming from, but then he pushes his hand further. 

This way, he gets to watch your face when he touches your pussy for the first time. There’s still your underwear in the way, but he sees your eyebrows going up, your lips part. Hears the double sucking in of breath. He runs his fingers over the front of you and you twitch. He’s about to lose his mind and barely anything’s happened.

He continues his slow caress, continues watching you. You’re responsive, he notices that. Tensing and pushing against his hand, pushing down, anything to look for more friction, more pressure, more pleasure. It’s hypnotic. Absolutely hypnotic. 

“Lift up,” he says, and you blink your eyes open, look at him. He can tell you’re out of it, lids low, expression a little clueless and his heart and cock sing at that. Could it be that you want him as bad as he wants you? Could it really be?

When his words finally register with you, you follow them, lift your ass up. Your arms are still around his neck and you need the purchase to move this way, so Sam grabs the fabric of your panties, two fingers slipping into the waistband and pulls them down your legs. You need to shuffle a little, but finally they’re somewhere below your knees.

“Open up,” he says and you look at him, eyes wide, wanting, but you do it, drop your legs open and Sam brings his hand back to where it was.

It’s skin on skin now and he groans at the feeling of your pussy against his fingers. Soft and perfect and warm, and then he feels wetness, feels it transfer to his fingers. He collects some, pulls his hand back and brings it up to his face. Your eyes widen again as you watch him smell it, then push the finger into his mouth.

“Oh God, Sam,” you say, ducking your head, and all of a sudden you’re not teasing, not giving him any lip and he has to grin at that. 

“Wanted to know that for so long,” he says, tilting his chin up, almost daring you. You lean in, eyes still open, let your lips connect with his. Kiss him softly, gently, probing. Sam knows you must taste yourself on him and it drives him nearly mad.

“Delicious,” he says against you, making you squirm.

“Please,” you say, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

His hand travels back between your legs and this time he presses harder, steadier, his shapes more determined. Your head drops back against the window with a thud, your mouth dropping open.

“That’s so good,” you moan so Sam keeps going, keeps doing what he’s doing, slow and steady, slow and steady, watching your face all the while, watching for what parts feel good, and which ones feel really good.

Your legs drop open wider, and Sam takes that as his cue. Pulls his hand back, tugs in his pinkie, ring and index finger. Brings his middle one to your entrance. When you don’t pull back, he pushes in.

He feels you clench down on him and sees your toes curling in your heels at the same time. He grins to himself, still watching you intently, the way your eyes squeeze shut like you’re concentrating.

“More, more, Sam,” you mutter and Sam needs to blink. When he doesn’t follow your request immediately, you flutter your eyelids open, look at him. A small grin spreads on your puffy, perfect lips.

“What, you think I can’t take more than one?” you say, all snark again. Sam raises his chin in challenge, pulls back. Ring finger goes out and then he pushes into you. 

The sound that leaves you is something otherworldly, too perfect to be from this planet. It’s whimpering-moaning-crying out, eyebrows drawn so close together they nearly kiss. Paired with the feeling of having two fingers buried knuckle deep in your cunt and Sam needs to drop his head forward, lean it against your shoulder.

“Yes, Sam,” you moan, voice cracking, “yes, like that, filling her up so good.”

And at that, Sam’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. Her.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he mutters, still pressed against you as he begins sawing his fingers in and out of you, making sure to drag the pads over the front of your hot, wet tightness. “So fucking perfect, I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

You wrap your arms tighter around him and it would be almost a sweet moment if it wasn’t for the rigorous finger-fucking. Maybe it’s still sweet, Sam thinks. And maybe he shouldn’t waste time on thinking right now.

He keeps the movement up, rubbing a deep part of you. You keep humming against him, gasping, whispering sweet things - how good he’s making you feel, how much you’ve wanted this, and then, suddenly, and Sam’s brain fries all over at that: “I want you inside me.”

His eyes have fallen shut at some point and he opens them, looks at you. His face feels hot and he’s been concentrating on his movement. But you’re looking at him, barely able to keep your own eyes open. You’re tight and hot around his fingers, keep clenching.

“Yeah?” Sam says, realizing how breathless he is and you nod.

“Yes,” you reply. The two of you look at each other for a moment longer, and then you both move at the same time. 

You push up and awkwardly climb off him, back to kneeling on the leather next to him. Sam’s hands shoot to his belt, struggling to open it as he watches you tug up your skirt so that it’s only around your hips, then your waist. He’s felt your pussy but he hasn’t seen it, so he stares shamelessly, until he hears you giggle.

“Staring’s rude, you know,” you say, and Sam doesn’t answer, just arches his back, grabs the waistline of his now opened jeans and boxers and shoves them all down past his knees in one go, before his naked ass lands on the seat again. The leather feels funny against his skin, and he’s once again reminded of Dean’s rules. He shoves the thought away as he leans towards you, wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you towards him.

Your hands go out, one against the window, surely creating a smudge that, again, Sam can’t really care about right now, one to his shoulder as you swing one leg over him. You look down your body and only when Sam follows your gaze does he realize you’re staring at his cock.

It’s mostly hard, resting against his stomach, over the fabric of his shirt. He looks up again, sees you biting your lip. He grins.

“I thought staring’s rude,” he says, and your gaze travels to his face. But you don’t laugh at his quip, look into his eyes, all serious suddenly.

“I can’t wait to have you inside me, Sam,” you say. “To feel you. I want to feel all of you.” Sam raises his hands, lays them on your hips. 

“You mean…?” he starts and you nod. He’s gonna feel all of you, no barrier between you. But– 

“You don’t have to worry,” you say, as if reading his thoughts. “I got an IUD and I’m clean. I just wanna feel you.” Sam leans forward, still looking up at you, his arms wandering around you.

“Feel all of me, huh?” he asks and you nod. “Feel my cock inside you?” You nod again, your breathing picking up. You push up on your knees and Sam loses his grip. His hand goes to his cock and he begins stroking himself, not taking his eyes off you. He’s about to be inside of you. He really is. He’s still not totally convinced this isn’t a dream. If it is, he hopes he never wakes from it.

He keeps one hand on your hip, helping guide you down. He holds his dick, hard and heavy in his hand, and then he needs to look away from your face to line himself up. His head bumps into you, running against your entrance for a second, and he groans, feels himself getting covered in you. You whine over him and then Sam moves his hand a little and his head begins slipping into you.

He quickly looks up again to see how you react. Your lip is caught between your teeth so hard he can see the blood leaving the skin around it, your eyebrows low. You rock your hips just a little, making him slip deeper and deeper. His head disappears inside you, the underside rubbing against your soft heat and then Sam drops his head back on the seat behind him as the rest of him sinks into you as you lower yourself all the way.

“Fuck,” he spits out and then you’re kissing him again, slightly grinding against him, which makes his head shoot up as he moans loudly. “Oh, shit, you gotta, goddamn, you gotta give me a second.”

You still, stuttering, and Sam sees double for a second before he calms somewhat. He’s never felt anything so tight, so soft, so perfect. Like you’re made for him. You kiss his jaw, his cheek, nip at his earlobe.

“Sam,” you say, and he wishes you would say his name a million times, it’s never sounded that good. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad.” You shift again, apparently unable to restrain yourself. Unable to control the grinding, the having him move in you. It makes Sam buckwild. At a particularly hard clench, his hands shoot to your ass, fingers boring into the flesh, keeping you in place - at least your external movement.

“Stop - shit - stop moving,” he pants. “Need to… fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec.” He looks at your face then, and he knows he fucked up.

The grin on you is downright evil. You like to tease, obviously, and seeing him like this must be the perfect ammo. You don’t move, his grip on your ass too hard, but you toss your head to the side, getting some hair out of your face, and he knows you’re about to make him lose his shit.

“You feel so big,” you say, voice breathy. “I’m so full. So full, Sam. But if you’re not gonna use that fucking cock, at least let me–” And that’s where you stop as Sam delivers a playful but hard slap to your ass cheek. You squeal, then giggle, clenching on him once more inside yourself.

“Lean back,” he says, his own voice breathless. You raise your eyebrows, but follow his command willingly and eagerly. Your elbows go on the back of the frontbench. Sam’s legs are long, hitting the back of the bench so you can do so comfortably.

It reveals your body to him. He looks down at where he’s inside you, the best damn thing he’s ever seen, that one pronounced vein on his cock disappearing into you like it’s a lifeline . Up your body, hips and waist and tits, so perfect, so much still left to explore under those clothes. Your throat, where you’re just swallowing. Your pretty face that he would love to see in such rapture as you lose all control. His hands slowly wander up the same way his eyes just traveled, taking your shirt with you, dragging it up as you extend your arms in the small space, wrestle it off you. A black bra that makes your tits pop and Sam needs to lean in, suck his lips against the skin of the left one. You giggle and then he moves back and then he looks up at you.

“Don’t move,” he says and you suck in a sharp breath. Then Sam begins.

Your new position gives him room and he rolls up his hips, slow, high until he feels the resistance of your body when he’s all the way inside, then drops down again before he does the same thing again. He disappears into you and getting to see that, getting to see himself come away glistening from you makes him feel like he’s floating. The drag of your pussy is the best thing he’s ever felt. You’re like velvet and silk and all good things in the world combined.

Your head drops back and your chest heaves, making Sam grin. He grabs on to your thighs, but keeps the rhythm. Up into you, down out of you, the need in him so strong, the pleasure so intense and buzzing he can feel it in the back of his knees. 

“You feel so good,” he grunts, his voice feeling rough in his throat. “Just like that. Make you feel every inch.” You whine, your head lolling, and it actually looks like you’re in pain.

“More,” you breathe out. “Sam, please, need you, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” But Sam shakes his head, presses a kiss to your right breast this time before dropping back.

“No,” he says, “I wanna make love to you.” You whimper, a soft tremor going through you as you make a pained noise and Sam feels renewed wetness when he enters you next. You might be begging him to fuck you hard, but it looks like you like what he’s giving you instead. Maybe it’s the juxtaposition or the fact that he's calling the shots. It’s hard to think. Sam keeps going, keeps looking at your face, at that perfect pained look there.

“Want me to touch you?” he asks and you nod vigorously, quick, desperate. Sam raises a few of his fingers to his mouth, wets them, then brings them to your clit, so perfectly put on display in front of him. Runs his finger around the nub, draws circles. It’s taking most of his concentration, with how he’s still fucking up into you, but it’s worth it when you gasp and shudder.

“Yes, yes, yes, there,” you press out and then a quick chuckle leaves you. “You’re a fucking tease, Winchester, you’re lucky this feels so damn good.” Sam grins broadly, rubs a little faster, a little harder. It makes you stretch your body, clench your fists. “Sam–”

“Just let it happen,” he replies, looking down at where he’s touching you briefly - Jesus, you’re soaking him. Eyes back to your face. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Too intense,” you say, “too much, need– oh shit, I’m close, I–”

“Ssh,” Sam quiets you. “Slow. Slow and easy. Give me that.”

And it seems you finally get it under control. Seems you want him fast and hard, and you’ll get that, and the slow way he’s doing it must feel overwhelming, but Sam needs this, wants this more than anything, to watch you slowly come apart like this.

You roll your hips, just a bit, the movement stuttering, a twitch on the insides of your thighs, your knees pressing against his sides. He rubs you a little faster, still with that steady, slow drag through your pussy.

“Tell me what she feels,” he pants and he’s almost sure you can’t hear him or don’t know what he means, maybe it was just an off-hand comment for you, but then he sees you lick your lips.

“She feels–” you start, interrupt yourself with a twitch and a moan. “She feels so much. She feels the best she’s ever felt even though she wants nothing more, nothing more–”

“Than to get nice and pounded?” Sam finishes and you nod, so hard your head must nearly fall off. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

And with that, Sam picks up the pace at which he’s fucking you. He can feel himself drag over your softest parts, faster now, his fingers still working to meet the feeling from the other side and then you gasp again, body tensing and stretching even more.

“Sam, ‘m gonna, oh fuck,” you pant and Sam keeps up the rhythm, can feel you almost squirming away as the feeling gets too intense but he wraps one arm around you, keeps you in place and you squeeze him so hard he thinks he’s about to pass out as your neck stretches, hips snapping so violently Sam can barely contain you and then he doesn’t, lets you ride him as you come hard, bucking, nearly screaming, squeezing him like crazy, and he’s about to pop like warm champage.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” you grunt in a tone Sam’s never heard from you, but is planning to make his best friend.

You flop forward, bury all of him inside of you again, your arms going around his shoulders like you’re holding on to dear life, hands balled into fists, high, high noises leaving you. You’re shaking hard so Sam wraps his arms around you again, presses his lips against some naked skin near your neck where he can reach. He runs his hands over your back as you slow down, calm. 

He’s still hard inside you, pulsing, eager, full. He didn’t come, although he was damn close. But he knows to give you time to catch your breath. When you finally pull your head back, you look into his eyes.

“Sam,” you say his name again, needy and a little whiny, and then you kiss him, uncoordinated. “So good. That was so amazing. Holy shit.” 

Sam kisses you back, breathing hard against you. Your hands are tussling his hair. Your entire body is hot, a slight sheen of sweat on your skin and it’s intoxicating. He licks at it, sucks at it, and a moment later he notices you start rolling your hips. He groans, the movement throwing him right back to the edge of release.

Now it’s him that drops his head back, looking up at you through half-closed lids and lashes. You keep looking into his eyes, lower your head, get his bottom lip between his teeth and then begin thrusting your hips, hard and fast. You bite down hard, your eyes rolling up as you moan into his mouth. It’s the sexiest thing Sam has ever experienced.

His hands go to just above your ass, gripping the flesh uncovered by your pushed up skirt, using the purchase to drive you down harder against him. You let go of his lip, straighten, arms going up to press against the ceiling of the car and then you’re basically bouncing on him, the stimulation so good and strong it’s like someone setting his spine on fire.

“Argh, fuck,” Sam presses out, his voice reverberating through the interior of the car, victim to the way you’re fucking him now. “I’m gonna come so hard.”

And then you do it again, eyes squeezing shut, teeth bared, and it’s all Sam needs to see, needs to know, that he’s making you come again, that plus the obscene squelch he can now hear between you every time he enters you when you press down on him again.

He's not sure if you can feel him swell inside of you, but you fuck him harder, his upward thrusts meeting your movement with a slap of skin every time, and he must be nearly bruising you with how hard you're going but still, you're pressing out yes yes yes and fuck me Sam fuck your cock is so good so big yes!

It begins and it’s so intense he thinks he goes blind for a second, and then his head hits the back of the bench, hard, painfully hard, as he thrusts up into you as much as he can, just wanting more, more, more, you. He feels his cock twitch like crazy, and then he’s emptying himself into you, spurt by spurt dragged from him by your tight embrace.

His stomach muscles cramp. A noise leaves him he’s never heard from himself before, and that makes two of you.

You slump forward and your head goes to his shoulder, while Sam’s arms go around you. Both of you lie there, breathing hard. Sam’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears, the rush of blood only slowly dying down. He feels wetness run down his cock where it’s outside of you, down his balls, probably dropping down from there. He couldn’t care less.

He stirs at some point, looks around, then down at what little he can see of your face. One hand goes up to the back of your head, gently running over it. You make a content sound and Sam nudges your forehead with his nose.

“Anyone alive in there?” he asks, his voice scratchy, and a tired chuckle reveals to him that you are. You pull up your shoulders and then finally raise your head.

He almost forgot. Almost forgot how beautiful you are. How much he’s in love with you. He looks at your face and it’s unbelievable, actually unbelievable, what just happened. He studies your features.

“What?” you say with a small chuckle. Sam gives you a lopsided grin, something warm building in his chest.

“Just gotta check you out shamelessly while I can,” he says and you purse your lips. You lean in, press a gentle kiss to his lips and when you move to pull back, his hand goes to the back of your head, pulling you back in. This second kiss is slow and unhurried. When you pull back again, you give him a serious look.

“Well, I hope you’re planning on doing lots of checking out,” you say, something light and hopeful but also worried in your voice. Sam can only grin.

“I will if you let me,” he says and you give the most adorable shrug.

“I might,” you say, “but only if we do this again.” Sam raises his chin, brings his mouth closer to you again.

“But next time I’m getting you in a bed,” he replies and you let your hands travel up his chest. “Somewhere I can really take my time with you.” You laugh.

“What, you don’t look forward to explaining to Dean why there’s come stains on his leather seats?” you ask and Sam groans, shakes his head.

“I’m still inside you,” he says, eyebrows raised. “Please don’t talk about my brother.”

“Speaking of,” you say and Sam frowns, so you quickly add: “You being inside me, not your brother. What do you say we clean up and you show me what it’s like to fall asleep next to you?”

Joy, unadulterated joy. It’s not something Sam gets a lot of, but as it turns out, there will be a lot more from now on. He raises his chin and you lean down to kiss him again. He twitches where he’s still inside of you. You raise your eyebrows at him, the corners of your mouth pulling up.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Sam says in a warning tone, but of course, he sees, as he looks at your perfect, perfect face, it’s way too late for that.

[sugarushwriting]

stalker! obsessed! jake sim x f reader

part 2

classmate jake x reader

warning: jake isn’t just nasty, there is content warning for cnc — if it isn’t your thing, walk away. now.

adult content featured, read at your own discretion.

enjoy.

it’s been about five days since you’ve had your fun television marathon with jake and his crew and you honestly enjoyed yourself.

since then you would find ways to immerse your friend group with his and it worked pretty well.

since then jake has grown more fond obsessed with you. “accidentally” running into you at the library, always at the cafe when you worked your shifts (mainly the shifts with ni-ki), seeing you crossing the street, just everywhere.

even places you don’t see him. like your own apartment.

last night jake couldn’t take it anymore. he missed watching your sleeping figure. he put on his big boy pants and broke into your apartment about an hour after you texted him goodnight.

it wasn’t hard, your landlord still hadn’t updated the locks, so they were old and janky. he suddenly got angry at the thought of a random man breaking in and doing something unimaginable to you.

jake would need to speak with your landlord about this issue soon.

jake crept in your apartment, no squeaks to be heard, and smoothly made it to your bedroom door with no issue. it was ajar, and he heard your light deep breathing, he was in awe.

you slept on your back, one leg straight, one bent, both apart, your underwear peeking from underneath the oversized, ratty shirt, that now laid halfway on your hip. your head was facing away from him.

as he stood over your sleeping figure and watched you, the tent in his sweats became noticeable and he couldn’t help himself as he took his cock out. he couldn’t help himself as he stroked himself to your unknowing figure.

he didn’t care about taking his time, he just wanted to come. he wanted to come to you, the thought of your bare skin, how sweet you would taste. how hot you’d feel once your bodies would touch.

before he could move or aim away, he came. jake came on your fucking thigh!

fuck, fuck, fuck! he chanted in realization and panic in his head as he came down from his orgasm. he had to clean you quickly. cock abandoned, he looked around your nightstand, seeing no tissue. so he had to go to your en-suite.

quickly grabbing toilet paper, when he came out you had slightly moved. and now your thighs were sticking together!

damnit!

jake tried his best to clean you up, but the way you moved, his come has rolled between your thighs and gotten stuck and sticky. he’d only be able to clean if he opened your legs and that meant risk waking you up.

he tried by gently touching you and you groaned and his heart went to his ass.

fuck he was in trouble. he’s a fucking forensic biologist in training! what if you wake up feeling the come? all you’d need to do is go to get it collected.

but his dna isn’t in the system!

doesn’t matter, the police would ask you what men you have been hanging around with lately and jake knows his friends would immediately look at him and know it was him.

he didn’t fuck you! he didn’t hurt you!

just violated you.

jake pulled at his locks.

not to mention his cock was still out, and semihard. he quickly tucked himself back in his sweats in shame.

so deep in thought, he hadn’t realized you waking up until he heard you clanking around your nightstand for your phone. he booked it out of your apartment as fast and quietly as possible.

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

“is it possible to come in your sleep?” you asked your best friend, manon.

jake went wide eyed and choked on his sandwich as he was mid chew. jay had to hit his back.

“girl, what are you talking about?” she chuckled.

you and her were currently sharing a picnic table outside with jake, jay, heeseung, and sunghoon.

you shrugged. “it’s just,” you bit your lip, looking at the guys, embarrassed to say it out loud, “i woke up with,” and you pointed to your leg.

“you brought it up, don’t be shy now.” manon teased and your face felt hot.

you huffed. “i woke up and my thighs were sticky, okay!”

manon chuckled, as three of the four boys were trying their best to look busy. jake was trying his best to keep calm.

manon lowered her voice, but the boys could still hear. at this point, you didn’t care. “was your underwear wet or anything?” she sipped her boba tea.

you shook your head. “no, not really. just sticky thighs. pretty sure i had a very intense wet dream.”

“how do you know it was a wet dream?” heeseung asked leaning in closer.

you teased with a smile, “why, hoping it’s you i dreamed about heeseung?”

jake wasn’t even mad at you casually flirting with heeseung cause wtf? was you actually covering for a guy that came on your thighs? while you slept! or did you really think you had that much of an intense orgasm?

heeseung leaned back, clearing his throat. with a laugh, cheeks going red, “no, i, uh, maybe,”

“just making sure nothing more sinister happened.” sunghoon finished for him.

manon laughed, “believe it or not boys, girls can have wet dreams and come too.”

jake laughed nervously, sunghoon and heeseung watching the boy closely.

and not even 15 minutes later, after you and manon went to your next class, sunghoon had jake pushed against a row of lockers in a men’s locker room by the collar of his shirt, with heeseung next to him.

“what the fuck did you do!” sunghoon growled.

“i didn’t do anything!” jake squeaked.

“then why did she wake up with sticky come on her thighs, jake!” heeseung snapped.

jake pushed sunghoon off of him. “you heard her! she said she had a wet dream!”

“then why did you nearly die by sandwich?”

“because what she said caught me off guard! i already think she’s hot! imagine hearing a girl you think is hot say that while mid chew! i had to calm my mind and dick down, ‘kay!” jake sniped back defensively.

heeseung and sunghoon stared at jake then looked at each other, then back to him. sunghoon spoke first, “if you did something stupid,”

“we won’t hesitate to turn you into the damn cops.”

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

it was now friday and your elective course with the boys just ended, your professor telling the class to enjoy the weekend.

“are you guys having the television marathon tonight?” you asked hopeful, turning to the four.

sunghoon shook his head. “can’t, promised to volunteer to help my old coach with some ice skating lessons.”

“coaching some middle schoolers with basketball.” heeseung added.

“im having dinner and a movie with my mom.” jay smiled shyly. “she and my dad live over an hour away.”

your shoulders shagged. “aw boo. curse yall for having good hearts.” you turned to jake. “what about you?”

“nothing.”

your eyes lit up. “great, i can come over—,”

“you can’t,” heeseung began, your eyebrows knitted in confusion, sunghoon finishing the sentence.

“we are also leaving for the night because of our landlord is doing the needed annual bug, exterminating thingy.”

“right!” jay snapped his fingers.

you pouted. “jake, where will you go?”

“no worries, i have somewhere.” jake mumbled, looking to sunghoon and heeseung, rolling his eyes.

“why not come to my place then? you can spend the night!”

“because he doesn’t want to do the marathon without us, right jake?” heeseung gritted through his teeth.

jake looked at heeseung then looked at you, who had the biggest pout on your face with doe eyes.

with a smile he said, “i’d love to.”

jake was quick to avoid his friends the rest of the afternoon, and up until the evening he began to pack an overnight bag to your place.

heeseung crossed his arms at his doorway. “you’re a fucking idiot.”

“why? for finally taking a chance on a girl i have a crush on?”

“no, for finally taking a chance on a girl you are fucking obsessed with.”

“i’m not obsessed with her heeseung.” jake argued through gritted teeth.

“you’re stalking her.”

“i’m not stalking her!” jake huffed quickly turning to heeseung. “i’m simply observing her habits and making sure she’s safe, okay? it’s not like i’ve kidnapped her—,”

“if given the chance, you would kidnap her in a heartbeat.” sunghoon said coming up beside heeseung. “behave, we don’t have bail money.”

“well i do, but im not using it on you.” jay said in the background.

30 minutes later he was on his way to your apartment, hand raised to your front door. he had to time it right as he was halfway to your apartment when you texted him your address forgetting that you never gave him your apartment complex prior to this.

hearing the knocks, you smiled, and skipped to the front door, seeing jakes widening smile as you opened the door. “glad you could come! we can enjoy the movie marathon and you don’t have to worry about the loud snoring from your friend you were going to crash with.”

“thanks again,” jake laughed quietly, and walked in your apartment behind you, letting you take the lead.

in comfortable solitude, you and jake enjoyed the marathon for the next few hours, enjoying ramen, soda, and soju. in between breaks you both would talk about random topics, getting to know each other a little better, and soon learned you both had things in common.

“not to blame the victims, because it’s never their faults, on the fucking creeps,” you began and jake turned slowly to you, his ears becoming red,

“huh?”

“i mean, how do they not notice someone creeping around, stalking them? i can just feel when someone is watching me or around me. i’m too much of a light sleeper, i wake up to every little noise.” you said, and jake nearly aspirated on his soju.

“fuck, really?”

you gave jake a weird look. “yeah, why?”

this time jake gave you a weird look back, looking for any tale. were you lying? looking for him to give himself up? maybe you thought you were a light sleeper but wasn’t.

“what would you do if you found a man in your room staring at you?” jake asked.

“fucking punch him, duh.” you laughed. “well, after i scream most likely.”

while you were laughing at the funny thought of it, jake began to laugh nervously.

around 11 that night you yawned, jake smiling at how cute and beautiful you were to him, forgetting about earliers conversation. “tired, princess?”

your cheeks felt hot, but you nodded. “yeah, long week with classes and work.”

“why don’t we put a pause on this marathon and pick it up tomorrow? let’s get some rest.”

you nodded in agreement. “you can sleep in my bed since you were nice enough to let me sleep in your bed last time. i’ll sleep on the couch.”

jake shook his head. “i’m not kicking you out of your bed. i’ll be okay on the couch.”

“my couch isn’t that comfortable for you, jake. if you don’t want to share a bed, at least sleep on my bedroom floor. it’ll be more comfortable than this couch.”

it’s not that jake didn’t want to share the bed with you, but he was trying his best to behave. “that works.”

as you got jakes makeshift floor bed ready, and cleaned up the living room, he got ready for bed in the bathroom. when he was done, you quickly got ready, and joined him in your room, sleeping in black athletic shorts and an oversized shirt.

“night jake.”

jake said goodnight, and soon you both were asleep. well or so you thought. you were asleep after an hour. jake laid wide awake at the the thought of you just inches away from him, within reach. he was hard, and had so many different scenarios running through his mind.

one of them included you riding him on this makeshift bed of his. another had you bent over the edge of your bed. soon his thoughts were running so wild he couldn’t help but pull himself out of his pants and stroke himself to your sleeping figure.

you were so close, yet so far. he stood up slowly and quietly, waving his hand in front of your face, the other holding his freed cock.

you didn’t move. didn’t flinch.

jake let out a quiet sigh and began stroking himself again, biting back his whimpers through his teeth. he took the chance and pulled your blanket from your figure, revealing your bare legs. he only wished he could be inbetween them right now.

almost like you read his mind, your legs fell apart in your sleep as you switched sleeping positions. jakes hands had minds of their own, hovering over your thighs, aching for a touch, a taste.

he can’t. almost as if reality slapped him, he moved his hands. however, when he went to step away, he hand was grabbed.

by yours.

but you were still sleeping. or so it seems.

jake swallowed nervously. “if you want me to continue, squeeze my my finger once, pause for a few seconds then squeeze twice.”

his heart nearly dropped in his ass when you did so.

you may have been ‘asleep,’ but you were awake for it all. you enjoyed this. you liked it. jake almost thought he was imagining it, and was going to walk away again, but you grabbed his hand tighter, pouting your lip, never opening your eyes.

“just be a good girl and lay there for me.” jake whispered. “i’ll take care of you.”

your hand dropped back next to your body, and you pretended to go back to sleep. you rolled onto your side, back facing away from jake.

jake easily rolled you onto your back once again so he had easy access. you groaned, pretending to be disrupted while asleep. jake played along, pausing to not awake you.

once successfully on your back, jake easily slipped your shorts off, your shirt bunched to your sides, and as much as he wanted his tongue between your thighs, his dick needed it more right now.

and that really woke you up.

“fuck, jake!” you moaned, arms immediately wrapping around his shoulders.

“couldn’t stay still and quiet for long, huh?”

“can’t help it!” you huffed out. “you’re fucking thick!”

jake pulled out to his tip, and literally slammed back in rocking your bed, hitting the wall.

“how long have you’ve known?” jake groaned as he fucked into you, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands planted on your ass.

“i had a hunch,” you moaned out, “but it was confirmed when heeseung interrupted you that night.”

“fuck,” jake groaned. the night he literally lost it and snuck back into his room.

“wish he hadn’t interrupted you, jakey. wanted you so bad.” you moaned, reaching up to grip the bed sheets. “was so wet for you all night.”

jake fucked into you harder if possible. “should’ve done this sooner.”

“yes! yes you should’ve!” with the way jake was pounding into you, the words came out a bit spaced out and with different tones.

it didn’t take long for you to come and for jake to pull out and come on your thigh.

“by the way, i know it was you who came on my thigh. thanks for leaving a mess. good to know i have that much power over you jake sim.”

© work of sugarushwriting | do not repost as your own or translate

inbox is lonely, send me stuff!! 💌

leave comments, questions, ideas, reblogs, likes, all of it!!! 😻🤍

[howiswhatawhy]

touch tank - Bucky Barnes x reader

Note: My first first first ever fic that I wrote. Not proofread so I apologize for any mistakes that I made. I just recently got back into my Bucky era and started listening to my bucky playlist again and I was like touch tank is such a bucky song, so I decided to write this fic. Feedbacks are greatly appreciated. Word count: 1.7k Pairing: soft! Bucky x reader (mutual pining/idiots in love trope)

Summary: Bucky comforts you after a bad date. Warnings: a little angst, implied smut(?), soft bucky being a simp, bucky and reader both being idiots. I wrote this during class so idk how it turned out tbh. The playlist in question:

Cancelled a hot hipster threesome for you

‘Cause I preach a freedom, but you’re a fucking great excuse

Bucky is trying to make you late for your date again. Well, in all honesty, he’s trying to get you to skip your date completely and just spend time with him. Why are you wasting your time with these useless boys anyways? It’s not like they know how to treat you like Bucky does.

“Buck, you know I can’t just make up an excuse again. It’s like the hundredth time you suddenly have ‘something important’ when I have a date.” You’re not trying to call Bucky a liar, but the last time he said he had something important and he needs you to be there, it ended up just being him needing to buy cat treats for Alpine. You love Alpine, but couldn’t he just wait until after your date?

“But, doll, I really need you to be there. Please?” And it’s true, Bucky needs you to be there. In fact, Bucky needs you to be everywhere. He’s pretty sure you’re the sole reason he’s breathing at this point. “C’mon baby,”

Well, how can you really say no when he’s calling you baby and making your head spin while looking at you with his pleading eyes? You didn’t really care about your date in the first place, Isaac or Isaiah or whatever his name was. You’re just trying to get your mind off Bucky. Which is proven to be difficult when he’s practically begging you to spend time with him. It’s not like you want to say no to him at all, so you sighed and said “fine…” and Bucky just lights up, He grins and kisses your cheek while you said, “But this is the last time, James.”

“Yes, I promise.” Though, you both know it wasn’t true.

—-

Plus I’d rather get naked and swim in your blow-up pool

And dry our dolphin bodies off and question your tattoos

You’re lying on his chest and playing with his dog tags. He’s brushing your hair and murmuring something you can barely hear. You’re pretty sure he’s talking about how this is so much better than your planned date, which is true, but you’re too hazy and warm to care about it.

The scars on his chest are scattered like the constellation in the night sky. You wonder who on this god damned Earth would do something so cruel and inhumane to someone. You wonder why couldn’t there be someone to protect him from all this pain. You wonder if it still hurts, not physically, but if the memory still haunts him. You wonder about a lot of things. Most of all, you wonder how does one carry so much baggage and still have the power to be as gentle as him? 

So you asked, “Tell me about your scars.” and he does. 

—-

You took my breath away

So now I can’t suck in my stomach around you anymore

It turns out Bucky was right to make you skip all those dates before. Boys suck. They don’t know a thing about how to talk to women. Isaiah certainly didn’t. 

Your date had gone terribly with Isaiah. He told you that you were too attached to the ‘Winter Soldier’. Said it was weird that you’re always there when he has a breakdown, like you’re his babysitter or something. So you defended Bucky. You said he’s not a burden, he’s your friend.

He’s someone who’s been through hell and still chooses to fight to be good. And he means a lot to you. Not because he needs you, but because you need him, too.

Turns out, Isaiah wasn’t too happy about you talking back to him, so he screamed and shouted. Right there in the middle of the restaurant, like a tantrum in adult form. 

People stared. You were humiliated. 

Isaiah said you were obsessed. That you were "too emotional," "too much," and so you slapped him. That’s when he snapped. Called you an attention whore who doesn’t deserve anything good. Loud enough for the next table to hear. Loud enough that the waiter stopped mid-step, unsure if they should step in. And you just walked out.

You didn’t go home after the restaurant. You didn’t want silence. Didn’t want to sit with Isaiah’s words echoing in your head like they meant anything. So you went to Bucky’s. You didn’t text first. You just showed up. And when he opened the door and saw your face, he didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t need to. He pulled you into his arms and you stayed there for a while.

“Bucky,” you sobbed out. He held you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your waist like he could shield you from everything that had ever hurt you.

“I'm here,” he murmured into your hair. “I got you.”

There’s something so comforting about him. Something you can’t really put your finger on. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t rush you. Maybe it’s how he holds tension in his body like a soldier still expecting the worst, and yet when it comes to you, he softens. It’s the way that Bucky, through all his callouses and rough edges, is still a soft and warm place you consider home.

You tell Bucky everything. From the way Isaiah looked at you like your kindness was embarrassing. The way his words turned from cold to cruel so fast it made your head spin. How he mocked your connection to Bucky and called it strange, needy, pathetic. How he made you feel like loving deeply was a flaw.

You don’t say it all in a straight line. It slips out between shallow breaths and long silences. Half-finished sentences. Broken-off thoughts. But Bucky listens like it’s a map. Like he can trace every pause, every shake in your voice, and still understand exactly where it hurts.

“He’s a jackass, doll.” were the first words that came out of Bucky’s mouth. And somehow, despite everything, it made you laugh. Because it’s true, Isaiah is a grade-A asshole. Bucky’s whole demeanor softened at the sound of your laugh. He continued, “He doesn’t deserve you at all,” You just looked at him quietly, waiting for him to say his next words, hoping it’s finally going to be the words you’ve waited him to say all these years. 

“Not even a conversation. Let alone your time. Let alone your heart.”

You looked down, blinking fast, because it hit harder than you expected. Not just the truth of it, but the fact that Bucky meant it. He wasn’t trying to comfort you with sweet nothings. He was telling you the truth like he always did. “I mean it,” he added, voice steady. “You give a damn. You care. And that’s not weakness. That’s not something you apologize for.”

His fingers brushed yours, light, careful. “But if anyone ever makes you feel like it is,” he said, “you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded once. Barely. Then looked up at him. And you realized that your lips are only inches away. Your breath hitched. You gazed to his lips. And for a moment, neither of you moved.

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, like he was asking a question without speaking. Like he was waiting for a sign, a shift, a breath, anything to tell him he wasn’t reading this wrong.

And maybe it was the way your hand curled gently around his. Or the way your gaze didn’t drop this time. Or maybe he just finally stopped holding back. So he leaned in, slowly, like he didn’t want to startle the moment into disappearing. And when his lips touched yours, it wasn’t a crash. It was a beginning. Soft. Certain. Like he’d been carrying the shape of this kiss inside him for a long time, and now he was finally setting it free. You sighed into it, instinctively leaning closer. His hand rose to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone, grounding you both in the present, in the realness of it. His lips moved against yours like he was learning them, like he already knew them.

“I’ve wanted this for so damn long,” he whispered, almost like a confession. And with him this close, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Finally,” you whispered back. He chuckled, low and warm. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Took me long enough.”

—

We're too old to live with our parents

Do you wanna wake up to me every morning?

You wake up to an unfamiliar warmth beside you. The soft rise and fall of Bucky’s chest. The gentle rhythm of his breathing. His arm sprawled across the bed, his fingers just brushing your side as if he didn’t want to move but was still connected to you somehow.

For a few seconds, the world outside the room didn’t matter. It was just the quiet of morning, the feeling of his presence, and the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the blinds.

Your eyes are puffy from all the crying you did last night, but the event that caused it was already long forgotten. Truth be told, if going to one bad date was all it took to get you and Bucky together, you would’ve done it a long time ago. Bucky stirs, making you stop your train of thoughts, and his eyes flicker open slowly. "Morning," he murmurs, his voice still rough from sleep. There's a soft, almost nervous smile on your face as you meet his eyes. That same warmth you’d felt the night before, the one that settled deep inside you, is still there. 

“I could really get used to this,” Bucky says, his voice still heavy with sleep. And you agree with him on that one. You also could get used to waking up to him. “Yeah?” you grin, unable to keep the giddiness from bubbling up. It was always hard to contain it around him, but now, more than ever, it feels like something you never want to stop feeling. “You wanna wake up to me every morning, huh?” You mean it as a joke, to tease him. Bucky’s gaze softens, and there’s a long pause before his lips curl into a small smile, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and sincerity. He doesn’t say anything at first, just tangles his fingers in your hair, brushing it behind your ear gently.

“I’d wake up to you every day, doll,” he murmurs, his voice low and sure. “If you’ll have me.”

—-

He's so pretty when he goes down on me

Gold-skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry

He tells me he's gentle when he wants to be

So I think he wants to be gentle with me

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I don't know how to write smut so uhm yeah but just imagine Bucky looking so pretty when he goes down on you:) ahhh I love him so much<3 I might make other fics based on the songs from the playlist depending on how much you guys like this fic.

[havecouraqe]

Reconnection

Pairing: Go Hyuntak x fem!reader

Summary: Having known of Hyuntak from his training days of Tae Kwon Do, you never thought you'd run into him again. What started as admiration from afar quickly turned into the beginning of something more.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Bullying, profanity, mentions of blood. Nothing but fluff towards the end.

A/N: Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3

After Hyuntak left yesterday, you didn't know what to think. He has your number now and continues to offer to walk you home after school. Did that make you and him friends? Friends can softly caress the side of your face, right? They can also call you cute. They can hold hands and lean towards one another, eyes looking at their plump lips, imagining how they would taste and—

You shook your head, gently slapping your cheeks to get the daydream out of your mind. The new day had forecast cloudy weather, and you shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, holding on to one of the small hand warmers. As you continued your walk to school, anxiety slowly crept its way into you. Having no idea how the girls would react, it felt best to act like nothing even happened.

The minute you stepped foot into the school, however, all you heard was gossip. Slut. Whore. Bitch. This didn't surprise you. Although Hyuntak wasn't the most coveted boy from his school, the first being Baku, he was still extremely popular with some of the girls and even boys. So you've heard.

You kept your head down, making your way to homeroom until someone pushed you straight into the lockers. The loud sound startled some of the girls who turned to look at the scene. You winced in pain, the combination lock had hit your upper arm, and you held on to it before looking back at the girl who did this to you.

Yuna. She was a well-known bully in the school, her group of followers too scared of her to think for themselves. Her parents owned a bunch of hotels around the city, so she pretty much got whatever she wanted. With the way she's glaring at you now, you got the idea that Hyuntak was just another thing of wants on her list.

"Hey," she spat. "What's the deal with you and Go Hyuntak?"

You straightened up, adjusting the shoulder strap on your backpack. "Nothing."

Yuna laughed. "Liar. We know he went home with you last night."

"We're just friends."

"Well, stay away from him." She snapped. "If I see you two together again, you better watch yourself."

The girl turned on her heels, her minions following close behind. What the hell was that? You scoffed, having expected the name calling, but you didn't take Yuna as one to resort to violence. Her way was mostly picking on someone from a distance. You groaned, the pain of your bruised arm coming back into focus.

Walking into class, your best friend, Ja-in, was busy trying to pass another level of a game on her phone. She must have heard your presence when you sat down at the desk next to hers because she said without looking up, "Hey, y/n, don't think you're off the hook from what happened with Gotak yesterday. We want to know everything."

"Don't worry," you said, rubbing your arm. "Yuna beat you to it." You laughed at your own pun in your head.

Soo-ah, another close friend who sat in front of you noticed. "What happened? Did she hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No, just pushed me into the lockers."

"What?" Ja-in whipped around to face you, forgetting her game. "Did you fight back?"

"And risk getting suspended? Of course not."

Even though you haven't really practiced Tae Kwon Do after hearing about Hyuntak's knee injury, you were confident in remembering enough for basic self-defense. It wasn't something you'd ever thought to use, though. Your life was pretty mundane. Until now.

"What did she say?" Soo-ah asked you.

"To stay away from him."

Ja-in scoffed, "Hey, the nerves of that girl. Just because she's rich, she thinks she can have whatever she wants."

"Guys, it's fine. I'm sure she'll forget about it eventually. People like her have a shiny new toy almost every week."

"Are you going to see him again today? Gotak?" Soo-ah questioned.

You became aware that the class had fallen silent. It wasn't a full room since school hadn't started yet, but you didn't want the rumors to pick back up again. So you lied, shaking your head no. Your friends only nodded, understanding that this would be a conversation for a later time. As the class started filling up, you unzipped your backpack and focused on your academics for the rest of the day. It was also a good distraction from thinking about Hyuntak and how you were going to see him later.

◇

Ja-in and Soo-ah came rushing to find you at your last class after the last bell. As you were putting notebooks into your bag, they quickly scooped you up from your desk, leading you to one of the class windows overlooking the front of the school. "Hey, what are you two doing?"

"Look!"

You stared out, and because you were on the second floor of the school, it didn't take long for you to see them. Hyuntak and Baku were standing across the street at the front of the school. What were they both doing here? This was bad. You were sure Yuna had heard by now and was probably waiting for you out front.

"Shit." You said under your breath.

"Maybe Yuna already left." Soo-ah hoped.

Ja-in laughed. "I wouldn't count on it."

With one last look at Hyuntak, you turned away and grabbed your stuff. "Let's go."

The walk to the entrance was nerve-wracking, but you held your head high. You decided that whatever happened, you didn't want Hyuntak or Baku to get involved. This was your fight, especially if it came down to that. But you hoped it didn't.

Stepping outside, Yuna and her posse were waiting for you. They were blocking your way. Trying to look unfazed, you stared at her. "Hey, move."

When she didn't, you tried again. "I said m—”

Yuna fisted your uniform, pulling you around and throwing you into her mob of followers. Without having time to react, they dragged you further into the courtyard, yanking your hair while others threw punches at you. Before raising your arms to protect your face, you saw Soo-ah run off while Ja-in tried to help you. Two of the minions held on to her as she screamed in protest. "y/n!"

You fell to the ground, your lip busted, and felt the kicks begin. You struggled for breath when one of the girls landed her foot on your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. Yuna walked towards you with her arms crossed, "I told you to stay away from him. Stand her up."

Two pairs of hands grabbed either side of you, bringing you to your feet. You felt dizzy, and your vision was a bit blurry. Looking at Yuna as she stepped closer, anger started building up inside of you. Waiting for the right moment, you used the support of the two girls holding you up to land a jump front kick straight to her face.

She screamed, stumbling back and bent over in pain. You were breathing heavily and saw that a crowd had formed when some of the girls cheered. A few of them even held out their phones, capturing the fight. When Yuna got her composure, this time she yelled out with rage. Blood ran down her nose as she charged towards you with a fist. You closed your eyes, ready to take the punch, only for it to not land on your face. You heard people gasped and opened your eyes.

Hyuntak held Yuna's wrist inches away from you. You looked at his face, and you've never seen him so angry. He glared at her, his chest heaving up and down. Shoving her hand away, his words came out as a threat, "Do you have a death wish?"

"What?" Yuna chuckled in confusion or shock, maybe both.

He glanced at you and then looked back at her, "Five against one is unfair, don't you think?" His voice came out through gritted teeth. It was only then that you realized just how much he was trying to control himself. 

“And what are you doing to do? Hit me?” She mocked. 

Up above, a voice was heard from one of the windows. "Hey! What's going on down there?"

That was everyone's cue to disband. Not looking to get into trouble, the two girls holding you let go as they ran. You almost fell over if it weren't for Hyuntak catching you and holding you in place. Ja-in and Soo-ah ran up to you full of worry.

"y/n! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." You tried walking but failed. Feeling lightheaded, you let Hyuntak support you. 

Baku's voice came from behind them. "Gotak, the taxi is here."

Hyuntak hadn't said a word, all the while looking at you. Still holding on to you, he turned around and bent down a bit. Looking over his shoulder, he only said, "Get on."

Too tired to argue, you wrapped your arms over his neck, holding on tight as he lifted you up, his arms supporting your legs wrapped around his waist. His back felt warm and strong as you rested against him. When he turned you around, you saw that most of the courtyard was empty and Yuna had left.

"Thank you for coming to get me." Hyuntak said to Soo-ah. He then looked at Ja-in. "And thank you for trying to help her."

"Will you let us know as soon as she's alright?" Soo-ah asked.

"Of course."

"Take care of her, please." You heard Ja-in say.

You couldn't see his expression, but he only nodded. Your friends said goodbye to you as Hyuntak and Baku started walking towards the taxi. Once inside, you leaned against him, your eyes closed and sleep beginning to take over. Baku, who had been busy putting all of the bags into the trunk, hopped in and urgently said to the driver, "Please take us to the nearest hospital."

Hyuntak looked you over, moving your hair away from your face. His hands felt rough but gentle as he took in your injuries. You lightly shivered when his thumb touched over your bruised lips. You also had a few scratches from the girls' nails, and your body ached. A lot. Looking up at him, you leaned further into his touch. The look on his face was a mix of pain and worry. He hated seeing you like this.

“She's going to be okay, Gotak.” Baku reassured him.

The last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep was Hyuntak's soft voice saying, “I know. She's a fighter. That's what I like about her.”

◇

Your eyes fluttered open, the bright light blinding you for a moment. Taking in your surroundings, the hospital room was quiet apart from the beeping of the monitor, keeping your vitals in check. Your arm felt heavy and found Hyuntak leaning over the edge of the bed sleeping on a chair, his head down and arm over yours. Feeling emotional that he didn't leave, you reached over and ran your fingers through his hair. He stirred awake, lifting his head and widening his eyes when he saw that you awoke. 

“y/n. How are you feeling?”

“I'm grand.” You winced, trying to sit up. Your joke didn’t seem to land as he helped you.

Sighing, you looked at him, “I'm okay. Really. What did the doctor say?”

Hyuntak sat back down. “Apart from the scratches and bruises, he thinks you'll be fine. He said you'll be sore and to watch out for a possible concussion.”

“Did they call my dad?”

“They couldn't reach him.”

“Probably for the best. I wouldn't want him to worry if it's nothing serious.”

You saw him bite his tongue, looking away. “What?”

“You're in a hospital, and you think it's nothing serious?” He said, frowning.

“Considering it's not life or death, no, it's not.”

He looked at you incredulously. And then, he started laughing. Throwing his head back, you watched as he tried to catch his breath. You didn't know how to feel, much less what to say, so you just listened to the sound of his laughter, trying to commit it to memory.

“At first, I thought trouble went looking for you,” he smiled, petting your head, “but it looks like you're the one that goes looking for it.” 

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes.

The door to your room opened, and Baku walked in, carrying your backpack.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“I'm alright.” You smiled. “Thank you for your help today.”

“I'm just sorry we have to keep meeting like this. Even if seeing you kick that girl in the face was badass.” Baku grinned. “The doctor said you can leave whenever you're ready.”

Hearing the good news, you began to get up. The boys left to let you get changed, and you checked your phone once you had your uniform and jacket back on. Ja-in and Soo-ah had sent you messages checking in on you. You quickly replied, saying you were okay and on your way home. Exiting the hospital, the day had turned to night during your slumber. You checked the time and saw it was almost eight.

“I'll be heading home first.” Baku said.

Hyuntak hugged him tightly. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“And miss all the fun? Come on, you know me better than that.” He turned to you, leaning down to your level. “If he gets out of line, you give him one of those kicks for me, would you?” You both laughed.

“Hey, Park Hu-min! What are you saying?” Hyuntak objected, playfully punching his friend.

Baku dodged, striding away, only turning around to yell back, “See you tomorrow!” 

“Ah, that guy.” He shook his head, hands on his hips.

You smiled and started walking in the direction of your home when you were pulled back from the sleeve of your jacket.

“Where are you going, troublemaker?” Hyuntak questioned.

“Home.” You stated, ignoring the new nickname. 

He shook his head. “It's too far. My place is closer.”

“I can call a taxi.”

“And who's going to take care of you if you get a concussion?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You wanted to argue, saying you'll be fine. But then you recall his words from yesterday. How he wants to be there for you. You knew you would do the same for him in a heartbeat, so you gave in.

“Okay.” You nodded.

“Are you okay to walk, or should I carry you again?” 

You felt embarrassed at his question for some reason and quickly said, “I can walk.”

He nodded, grabbing your backpack from your hands. His own was already on his back, so he just slung yours over his shoulder. 

“It's not far,” He said softly, feeling his free hand grab yours. Blushing, you looked up at him, “Is this alright?”

Nodding your head, Hyuntak started leading you towards his home. The night air was chilly, so you leaned closer to him for warmth. You both were lost in thought, but it was a comfortable silence, the noise of the city filling in. His hand felt secure, holding yours like you might disappear. After a few blocks, he led you up to his apartment. Opening the door, you excused yourself as you stepped in. It was surprisingly spacious.

“Are your parents home?” You wondered.

“Mom's working a night shift at a clinic. She won't be back till late morning.” He set the backpacks down and turned towards you. “I'll lend you some of my clothes. My room is down the hall, first door on the right.”

Taking off your shoes, you slowly made your way. Opening the door and turning on the light, you caught your breath at the sight before you. Tae Kwon Do trophies lined up on one side of his room above his dresser. You walked towards them and noticed he had some various medals hung around the mirror. Reaching up, you twirled one with your hand, admiring it.

“Are you thirsty?”

You whipped around and saw Hyuntak standing at the doorway, holding a glass of water. He was expressionless as he walked in and offered it to you. Taking it, you watched him as he looked for something. He grabbed his blue hoodie and a pair of clean sweatpants from his closet.

“These are going to fit too big on you.” He finally smiled. 

“It's okay.” You smiled back.

Leaving you to it, you took off everything apart from your underwear. Slipping on his hoodie, which was slowly becoming your favorite, you inhaled his scent. It relaxed you and brought you comfort even though it was too big on you, going past your waist. You thought about not even wearing the sweatpants, but nerves got the better of you. You tied your hair up in a bun with a hair tie you found in the pocket of your uniform. Pushing back the sleeves to free your hands, you opened the door.

Finding him in the kitchen, the aroma of ramen made your stomach growl. He turned to look at you and chuckled, “I figured you'd be hungry since we practically missed dinner.”

You starred at him, your eyes traveling down from his face and saw that he had changed clothes as well, settling for some basketball shorts and a loose black t-shirt. Sitting down at the kitchen counter, you found him staring at you too, “What?”

“Blue looks lovely on you.”

“I like it better on you.” You blushed, looking down.

Hyuntak smiled warmly, placing the bowl of noodles in front of you. He sat across from you, and you both began to eat. You ate with gusto, feeling satisfied with the delicious meal. He watched and smiled to himself. After taking a bite, he spoke up.

“Who was that girl you were fighting?”

You blinked, not expecting his question. Swallowing the remaining food in your mouth, you drank some water before answering. “Yuna. The most popular girl in the school.”

“Why did she start the fight?”

“She wanted me to stay away from you.” You shrugged.

“How come?”

That made you laugh, “I'll ask her that next time I'm smashing her nose in.”

He remained silent, deep in thought. You looked at him, a bit surprised. Did he seriously mean his question? He had to know what some of the girls thought of him, right? How they all wanted to date him or just hook up if they could. You hesitated before saying, “Almost everyone at school thinks you're amazing.”

“They do?”

You nodded.

There was a moment of silence until he asked, “Is that what you think too?”

“Yes.” You confessed, unable to look at him. “Even before we met at training, I always thought of you as amazing.” 

Hyuntak's heart swelled with love at your words. He got up and came around to pull you in for a hug. Wrapping your arms around him like you did last time, you pulled him in closer. You felt his chin rest at the top of your head and place a hand at the back of it.

“I think you're amazing too.”

His warmth engulfed you, compared to the coldness of the rain when he hugged you last time. He had this aura about him that just made you want to trust him. His eyes, so kind and inviting towards you. The more you got to know him, the more you realized you've never met anyone like him before. People like Hyuntak don't come around very often.

Eventually, he pulls back, lightly pinching your cheek, “Are you sleepy yet?”

“A little.” You giggled. 

“I set an extra toothbrush in the bathroom across my room for you. I can also make you some hot chocolate to help you sleep. Go get some rest, and I'll be there shortly.”

You quickly brushed your teeth and went back to his room, taking the opportunity to look around more. There were a few basketball trophies above his desk on the other side. Further down, some workout equipment, like a jump rope, lay on the floor. He had some books here and there, a Bluetooth stereo, and other little knick knacks. Overall, his room reflected him down to a tee.

When Hyuntak came back, you took the mug and sat on his bed, legs crossed. He grabbed his basketball, tossing it from hand to hand as he sat down on his desk chair. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“My friends will want to know how I am, so I'll probably invite them over.” You took a sip of your drink.

“Since it'll be Saturday, it's a good idea to take it easy.”

“We don't go out much. I'm more of a homebody.”

Hyuntak nodded.

“Do you go out a lot?” You asked.

“Sometimes. My friends and I do volunteer work from time to time. Either that or we just hang out playing basketball or catch up at Baku's dad's restaurant.”

It was your turn to nod. You finished your drink and watched as he took it and placed it on his desk.

“You can sleep in here,” he said. “I'll take the couch.”

“Won't you be uncomfortable?”

A teasing smile crept up on his face, “Where do you suggest I sleep then?”

“In your room.” You tried not to notice his smirk. “I can sleep on the couch.”

That upset him. “In your condition? Don't be ridiculous.”

You tried staring him down, and he sighed. “I can see where this is going to go.”

To your disbelief, he turned off the light and walked over to the empty side of his bed. He undid the covers and sat down, turning to look at you. “Is this okay with you?”

Swallowing hard, you quietly let out a yes, unsure if he heard it.

“Come here.”

You crawled in next to him under the covers, your heart beating fast. Both of you were on your side, facing each other. With the little bit of light coming in from his window, you were able to see his face. His hand moved a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes never leaving yours.

“You're so pretty.” He whispered.

Melting at his words, you felt brave to move closer to him. You placed your forehead against his chest, and he welcomed you, wrapping his arms around you. His heart was beating fast, just like yours. Sleep started taking over, and you tried to fight it, not wanting to go just yet.

“Hyuntak,” you said softly, “I really like you.”

You felt his soft lips press against your forehead. Overcome with emotion, Hyuntak pulled you in closer.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

“Hmm,” you humed with a smile, too tired to say anything else. You drifted off to sleep, safe and sound in his arms.

a/n: Thank you all for reading. Reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

Taglist: @snowflakemoon3 , @l5byrinth , @hollxe1

[darryscrow]

If your writing prompts are still open:

Darry + the rest of the gang absolutely horrified because Ponyboy came home from school crying and Pony NEVER cries in public

WC; 2,122 Summary; One day Ponyboy comes home crying, and Darry takes it upon himself to get to the bottom of the problem.

Crossposted on Ao3

The dingy television was on with the volume knob turned up so high you could feel the buzz of the static in your body as an attempt to make the evening program audible over the three loud-mouthed boys in the Curtis house that night.  

Sodapop, sprawled out on the couch, was looking down on Steve and Two-bit that were spread out on the floor close by.. The three of them wouldn't stop talking, a discarded game of poker left on the coffee table that had been left in favour of an ever-changing conversation.

In contrast to the gang, Darry was sitting beside Sodapop on the couch, quietly folding laundry to put away as they droned on, acting as just another part of his background noise as he focused on his task – making sure he was doing it perfectly. He had taken off the clothes off the line a couple minutes prior, and they were still warm from the sun. It felt nice under his fingertips.

All in all it was a pretty good day, Darry didn't even mind the fact that he had to start on dinner soon for once. It was a task so tedious after a day of work which he couldn’t trust with anyone doing but himself most of the time, but now he almost looked forward to it, the food tasting much more rewarding after spending precious time cooking it.

So yes, you could say it was a perfectly peaceful day.

It lasted up until Ponyboy came home, the front door slamming closed behind him as he crossed the house in record time like the devil was after him. 

"Ponyboy? How was runnin'?" Sodapop, like usual, was the first to notice something wrong when Pony breezed past them. The signs were so clear in fact, that everyone else realised it too, only a split second after Soda.

Ponyboy didn't even throw a glance in Sodapop’s direction when he spoke up, suddenly igniting that spark in Darry that always got him riled up.

"Hey!" Darry yelled out, tugging at the shirt in his hands to the point he knew it'd be stretched out, "You answer your older brothers when they ask you something, kid brother." 

He had half a mind to get up and give Ponyboy a piece of his mind, who was he to be ignoring their concerns? Brush them off when they are trying to help? He was oblivious to how he had done the same thing.

Sodapop placed a hand on Darry’s shoulder to keep him in place, and as he opened his mouth to tell Darry to tone it down – Ponyboy whipped back around and stared at the two of them. 

Wet streaks of tears ran down his cheeks, as well as snot trailing down his face. He seemed all cried out by the time he got to the house though, if his red eyes from the strain of sobbing were any indication. He truly was an awful sight.

Darry shrank back into the couch, a look of guilt flashing across his features. "Ponyboy?"

Ponyboy shrugged quickly and threw his hands up nervously with a simple "Track was fine," before turning back around to go into his room.

The door closed softly behind Ponyboy this time, leaving the rest of the gang stumped into silence in the living room. 

Ponyboy never cried in front of them. He'd never let himself. Not Two-bit. Not Steve. And especially not Darry

The two curtis brothers shared a glance, the same questioning look on their face. Deciding he had to take over the caretaker role for once, Darry stood up from the couch and headed to Pony's room, encouraged by Sodapop's meek smile when he glanced behind his shoulder. 

Ponyboy was sitting at his desk when Darry carefully walked in and shut the door behind him. The room was dim, he noticed, the curtains drawn closed as if his younger brother had some sort of fear someone would peer in just to see him cry. 

Back in the living room it was still quiet, and to assume they were outside the door listening wouldn't be such a bad guess. The whole lot of them were noisier than the greasy girls on their side of town, not to mention that Pony really did give all of them a fright. 

The bed was unmade like usual, despite Darry’s case to them about getting to it, but he sat down on it anyway, patting the spot next to him when Pony looked his way. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Pony took the invitation and sat next to him, but he was anyway. They’ve been getting better, they’ve been trying their best to avoid stepping on each other's feet – but it still felt like a grey area where Darry had no idea how he was supposed to act.

So he did what he thought would be best, and wrapped an arm around Pony’s shoulders to pull him even closer to Darry. Darry always liked the security he felt in the touch when his Dad did it, so maybe Pony would too.

And it was as if the tides had shifted when Ponyboy wordlessly rested his head on Darry’s shoulder; something that Pony had last done to him months ago, before their parents were gone.. He had to keep reminding himself that it was better, they were, even if his brother’s damp cheeks felt like they were burning into his skin. 

Finally in a safe enough position to start questioning his little brother, Darry did so. “What’s wrong little buddy?” He wanted to add in how he gave them a scare, but he couldn’t calculate what the reaction would be to that, so he decided against it.

Ponyboy sniffed, collecting the last of his composure as he stared straight ahead. In any other situation, Darry would have assumed that he was off in that big head of his, but he was listening. Darry was sure of it.

He didn’t have to wait long to see his prediction proven correct when Ponyboy spoke up.

“Coach made us run laps until we just about dropped dead. I was the last on the pitch – always am,” Darry rolled his eyes at the bragging, “‘nd by the time I got back inside my locker was broken into.”

“I don’t know how they knew it was mine. I don’t know how they got in but –” He coughed out another sob, the emotions pouring back into his voice. “They trashed everything in my bag. I wouldn’t have batted an eye any other day, honest, but Darry Gone with the Wind was in it.” 

There it was.

Darry didn’t need it to be spelled out any further than that, that book was the last thing he got from Johnny. He vividly remembered the time in the hospital after the rumble when a nurse walked into Ponyboy’s room and handed Darry the book, telling him that it was specified for Ponyboy. A letter stuck out of it, and Darry damn near threw up at the sight of it. It was a sudden reminder that their little Johnny was dead alongside Dally during a time where he was tunnel visioned into caring for Ponyboy.

His little brother always had that book by him by the time he was lucid enough to read after his health scare. The pages and spine quickly got dull and warped from the constant use, a sign of any well loved book, just like all of Ponyboy’s favourites on his shelf.

Ponyboy unglued himself from Darry, causing his heart to leap into his throat before calming down when Ponyreached inside his bag; Darry had thought he was about to turn him away again. 

The papers were tattered, some even falling out as Ponyboy turned around with the paperback in hand. He held it as delicately as he could and handed it to Darry to wipe at his tears once more.

He couldn't even try to flick through the pages if he tried, and he once again wondered why? Hasn't his brother gone through enough? Why would someone go out of their way to destroy his belongings and rip up his books? There was more ruined, Darry was sure even if Pony didn’t bring it to light, because none of it compared to the book. Johnny's last gift. 

Darry stood up and hugged Pony, the book still in his hand as an idea sparked in his head. Pony’s fingers dug into Darry’s back, and Darry realised he started crying again when he felt his shoulder get wet. 

“It’s okay baby. I’ll figure something out.” 

Ponyboy pulled away from Darry to look him in the eyes, a bashful smile on his face contrasting the fresh tears running down his red cheeks.

“I know. You always do.” 

——————————┆ ◛ ┆——————————

After that night, Darry immediately busied himself with repairing the book. There was something about this copy that was special to Ponyboy, and simply buying another wouldn’t make do; Ponyboy would take it and thank Darry, but it’d never bring the same comfort the worn paperback would.

Two-bit helped swipe a different copy of the book, which he wouldn’t admit, but left it one night on Darry’s nightstand while he was brushing his teeth. He had told the gang he was going to try and mend it, and was met with faces of varying agreement. Sodapop, though onboard, was unsure of how Darry was to do it. Steve said he’d help with anything if Darry needed a hand. Two-bit agreed with Steve, but was content with sitting back and watching after he had gotten a different copy. 

Darry had a lot of work put into it. 

One of his first calls to action was finding someone who actually knew the craft, but after a couple quite frankly embarrassing conversations, Darry met a girl working in a Soc-y bookshop across town that helped explain what he can do. She wrote it down, which felt a little insulting to Darry, he wasn’t a dumb greaser who’d forget it the moment he left, but he found the written down instructions quite useful in the end. 

The first night he had time, he ripped the spine off the new copy and skimmed through Johnny’s copy to see which pages were missing. 

The next night, he carefully took out the pages out of the new copy.

Over multiple evenings, he stole glue from his work’s office and started gluing in the missing pages, from both the new book and the loose pages already in the copy.

After the glue had dried fully, he made sure the book wasn’t a touch away from breaking and skimmed through all the pages again to make sure it was usable. 

It took two days after finishing to give it to Ponyboy, Darry was just that nervous. It was one thing not doing a great job at work or getting a bad grade back in school, but the thought of disappointing his little brother? He wouldn’t be able to bear it again. 

He knocked on his bedroom door, knowing Sodapop was out for the night. What if he had ruined the book even more? What if Ponyboy thought it was a stupid waste of time?

“Come in.”

Darry opened the door, the book hidden behind his back as he bit his lip, still contemplating if he should really hand it over. 

Ponyboy sensed his nervousness and stood up from his desk, curiously making his way over to his older brother. “Darry?”

His arms shot out, Gone with the wind in his shaking hands as words started spilling out of his mouth. “I said I’d take care of it, and I did. I know I did a crummy job but it was all I could do. If I had smaller hands like yours maybe it would’ve been better but..”

The book was taken out of his hands as Ponyboy picked it up, and just like magic his eyes lit up. He flicked through the book, something Darry was afraid of doing incase it broke, but all the pages managed to stay inside, a mismatch of worn yellow pages and new bright paper in between. 

“Well golly Darry, I think you did a better job than if I had tried it.” Ponyboy smiled, all his teeth showing as he admired the broken spine of the same book that had been in pieces before. 

His sentence took Darry by surprise, “Really?”

“Really. Thank you. It’s tuff.” 

Darry laughed as Ponyboy tossed it onto his bed to read later and ran into his chest. “Guess it is.” He let his head rest atop of Pony’s. 

“But maybe don’t bring that book to school next time.”

[markkiatocafe]

hii! could u do the prompt of smoke (jaehyun) with jisung pls? it seemed interesting! 🌷

smoke

a short story with jisung of nct dream

༄ warnings: very mild cursing (“damn”), reader is implied to be female (“passenger princess”), oblivious ji and admirer reader…

༄ synop: observing jisung’s beauty on a late night drive might’ve just made you confess something you didn’t realize. or, maybe you realized something you didn’t want to confess? either way seems fitting.

༄ pairing: gn!reader x nonidol!jisung

༄ w.c: 493

༄ a/n: i hope you all enjoy this one!!!! :3 it’s def not what i originally had in mind for this prompt but i hope it’s still ok <3 i jst want you all to know i was blasting knock knock by ampers&one while writing this so… take that for what you will ໒꒰ྀི  ´ ˘ `  ꒱ྀིა

you and jisung would go on late night drives a lot, just as friends. if either one of you got overwhelmed at an event or just had a bad day in general, you could go out and drive together (you 9 times out of 10 the passenger princess) and it felt like the world fell away for a moment.  like it was just the two of you and the music filling your ears from the stereo.

well, tonight was one of those nights. you both had just an overall horrible day, and you just needed an escape from reality. so, you got together and got in his car, just driving around the overall area. you were softly humming along to the song playing in the air, elbow perched on the window sill, chin in the palm of your hand. you glanced over at jisung, who was singing along quite a bit louder than you, but you started to really look at him.

inspecting his features with tenderness in your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. maybe you just never payed enough attention, or maybe it was the small shimmer of the moon that was highlighting his features in a swoon-worthy way, but he was beautiful. not that you ever thought he was ugly, but… damn.

he glanced over at you when your favorite part of the song came on, before looking back to the road, feeling a warmth creep up his neck, which made him beyond grateful for the darkness that encircled you both. he paused his singing for a moment. “do i have something on my face…?” he asked, his voice just barely louder than the now pretty much forgotten music playing in the background.

you shook your head, feeling a warmth creep up your own cheeks despite the cold wind blowing through your car window, quickly looking away as your eyes met his. “no, no… you’re just so… i think this is really your lighting.” 

he let out a soft laugh, eyebrows knitting together as he started pulling into his neighborhood. “the one where you can barely see me?” he joked, but he was slightly genuinely confused. why were you looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars? he reached over, turning down the music on the stereo.

“that’s not what i mean and you know that! just… the moonlights’ glow and all. it highlights your eyes well.” 

“and your lips.” you mumbled a little bit quieter, not able to hold yourself back.

“well, thank you…” he replied, pulling into his driveway. although it was just a small murmur, your last words made his heart feel like it might fly out of his chest.

you didn’t realize how your last words came out until later, replaying the moment in your head while laying in your bed and letting out a groan. you couldn’t believe you just said that, but you weren’t lying, so…

[xoxochb]

stupid.

stupid sandals that keep breaking. stupid shells and pebbles that dig into your bare feet. and stupid towel that keeps falling off your shoulders, exposing your only bikini-clad body.

fireworks burst in the distance, reds and whites and blues, stars and spirals and such.

as much as you would have killed to join the camp’s fourth of july party, there was one issue to go along with that.

you hadn’t a friend in camp.

you’d arrived not that long ago, claimed by hades last month. of course you were a child of the big three. no siblings and a cabin entirely to yourself.

sometimes it was better like that, sometimes it made you jealous to see the other cabins and their sisters and brothers and siblings.

the sun goes down rapidly, the coldness of the night nipping at your skin. you just need to walk faster, that’s it. but the rocks you step on hurt far more than you’d like to.

stupid. it was stupid— utterly— you’d rather walk right back to the ocean and shove your head—

fuck.

before you have a millisecond to collect yourself, your body is colliding with the pavement of the pathway, face just saved.

it takes you an entire ten seconds to come to your senses. but, only by a savior in white birkenstocks walking towards you.

hot tears of embarrassment fall down your cheeks like waterfalls. you already hadn’t made a good reputation for yourself when you’d joined cabin thirteen. you didn’t need another aphrodite girl laughing at you for tripping and falling.

“need a hand?”

reluctantly, you look up with a quivering bottom lip, only to be met with an extended hand and the most gorgeous set of sea-green eyes you’d ever seen in your life.

“I…”

your words fail you as you drown.

look anywhere else. the rocks. the ground. your fallen sandals, the sky, the fireworks, anything.

but your eyes fail your brain as they do quite the opposite.

“thank you,” you breathe out, taking the outstretched hand into yours. it’s awfully cold like the ocean you’d previously swam in.

you notice how your knees are wobbly as the boy guides you upwards. involuntarily, you fall against him. a bashful blush unfolds along your cheeks.

“I— I’m sorry.”

the boy only steadies you by your waist before netting your gaze again. “is this okay?”

so very green…

you nod.

“your knees are bleeding,” the boy points out.

you hadn’t noticed until you looked downwards upon his statement. they were entirely skinned and red.

you inhale to prevent tears from falling once again.

“I should go to the infirmary.” they were always open come the fourth of july, you’d taken notice that the stolls liked to torment others with firecrackers.

“it’s closed… but I have a first aid kit in my cabin. I’m not a doctor but my mom taught me a thing or two.”

closed?

you take another look at your knees before returning to the oceans with a sigh.

“how do I know I can trust you?”

“how sweet of you, I’m offering to help and you’re judging my trustworthiness.”

“well?”

“yes, you can trust me, I swear it.”

“fine then. but if I wake up with half a leg I will find you and I will hurt you.”

the boy holds a hand up defensively, the other still holding your waist. “noted.”

“glad you understand.” you throw him a sarcastic smile and sniffle.

the green eyed boy is in a trance for about five seconds before he returns to reality. “I’m percy, by the way.”

oh… the only son of poseidon. that explains the pretty eyes.

“you’ll get my name when you earn it.”

“and… how exactly do I earn it?”

you think for a second before deciding. “we’ll see.”

“you drive a hard bargain.” percy frowns. “let’s get those knees cleaned up, sweet girl.”

“don’t call me sweet girl.”

“don’t make me wait for your name.”

“don’t be sassy!”

“don’t yell at the boy who is actively trying to save your life!”

“see? sassy!”

“see? the sweetest, kindest girl to ever live.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“I am.”

that was a long night.

a very, very long night.

[callikari]

OFF ╰┈➤ THE SCRIPT

PRECIS 。 "then let's write something new."

김순우 x fem!reader 648 fluff co-stars to lovers ─ mild emotional tension mutual pining very soft and safe ( no angst !! ) made this for my @saefy > <

REBLOG FOR A KiSS

it starts with a casting call.

you get the role of the female lead in a coming-of-age romance drama — your biggest break yet. and the male lead?

kim sunoo.

idol-turned-actor, known for his expressive eyes, soft voice, and a smile that makes your director go, “he doesn’t even have to speak. he just feels like a love story.”

you’re nervous.

not because he’s famous — though he is — but because the script says you’re supposed to fall in love with him.

and you’re worried you might do it too easily.

from the beginning, sunoo is easy to like.

he remembers everyone’s coffee orders on the first day of filming. calls you by your character’s name even off-set, just to help you “stay in the zone.” makes silly faces behind the camera to help you nail your crying scene.

he’s professional. thoughtful. kind.

he’s also infuriatingly good at what he does.

in every scene where he’s supposed to look at you like he’s falling in love, you find yourself holding your breath.

because it feels real.

like you’re not acting at all.

one night, you’re filming a scene on a rooftop — your characters’ first kiss. the script says you’re supposed to hesitate, nervous, unsure… until you look at him. and everything changes.

“trust me,” he whispers, in character.

you look into his eyes.

and for a second, you forget the cameras.

you don’t kiss for real that night — the scene cuts right before — but something shifts.

afterward, when you’re both sitting on folding chairs with script pages in your laps, sunoo nudges your knee gently.

“you okay?”

you nod. “just tired.”

he looks at you for a second longer. “you’re doing really well. i hope you know that.”

you blink. “thanks. i’ve been trying not to mess up your close-ups.”

he laughs. “my close-ups are better when you’re in them.”

your heart stutters. you hope he can’t hear it.

weeks pass. the drama wraps. the last scene is quiet, bittersweet — your characters walk separate ways in the rain, looking back only once.

the director yells “cut,” and the crew claps. the project is over.

but sunoo doesn’t move.

he’s still looking at you.

and even when they hand you flowers and you smile for press photos and thank the writers and staff, a small part of you keeps circling back to that moment on the rooftop. that almost-kiss. the look in his eyes when the cameras stopped rolling.

you don’t expect to see him again so soon.

but a few days later, he texts you:

sunoo: hey.

sunoo: i found a spot that looks exactly like the fake cafe we filmed at.

sunoo: wanna grab coffee and pretend we’re still acting?

you laugh, but your fingers tremble when you type:

you: only if i get to order for you this time.

sunoo: deal. but i’m paying. actor privilege.

the cafe is small and quiet. sunoo sits across from you with his chin resting on his hand, smiling like he already knows how this ends.

you stir your drink to keep your hands busy.

“do you miss filming?” he asks.

you nod. “yeah. weirdly a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s a pause.

then he says, “i kept thinking about that rooftop scene.”

you look up.

his voice is soft. “i wasn’t acting.”

you freeze.

his eyes meet yours, warm and nervous.

“i mean, i was,” he adds, “but only because it felt easy with you. too easy. like it was already there.”

your chest tightens. “sunoo…”

he laughs nervously. “sorry. i know this is out of nowhere. i just didn’t want the drama to be the end of our story.”

you take a breath.

reach across the table.

and smile.

“then let’s write something new.”

falling in love on set was never part of the script.

but you’re pretty sure the real story is even better.

enhypen taglist :: @nocturnebite @cheruphic @chrrific @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @manariees @ijustwannareadstuff20

vi says :: i'm sorry guys this was so rushed TT

© callikari — all rights reserved

[starspyder]

𝙁𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙄𝙣𝙠 || Carmen Berzatto X Tattoo!Artist Reader

Some of my personal headcanons about Carmy meeting his new favorite tattoo artist— who just opened shop down the street from The Bear ;)

Extras: canon typical swearing, Richie being a little shit, emotionally constipated Carmy as usual lol

read part 2 here!

word count: 1.6k

Oh my god where to begin oKAY—

So let’s say at this point, The Bear has been open for at least a couple of months. Everybody’s getting into a routine, the reputation is still good (albeit a little mixed with all the bitching and moaning coming from the kitchen mid-service). Carmy’s routine is get up at about 6am, sometimes earlier if he can’t sleep, get to the restaurant by 7:30 at the latest, run prep until lunch service, take a break that Syd, Richie, or Sugar forced him to take so often that it’s normal, as much as he dislikes it, and then return to do the last bit of prep before dinner service.

My poor boy works himself to death :((

It’s on one of these aforementioned breaks that he’s standing out front, smoking a cig while on the phone with Fak, bitching him out for screwing something up or picking up the wrong thing from the restaurant depot store, when he sees you. 

You’re across the street, about three shops down to the right, carrying in some heavy looking boxes from your car, parallel parked out front. 

He, in true Carmen Anthony Berzatto fashion, watches from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s been with Claire, and it’s not like he was going out of his way to get into another potential relationship, but he would easily admit how pretty you were.

Dressed in shorts and an oversized shirt with some scribbled logo for a metal band, Vans and a black baseball cap. Underneath, your hair was a darker, navy blue color. You had a few piercings, a couple of nostril hoops on one side, your septum and a pretty stud in the middle of your top lip— not to mention the plethora of jewelry adorning your ears. Your arms and legs were covered in tattoos, some bright and colorful and some darker and moodier.

There were plenty of different people that Carmy’s met in his time traveling and working, so any kind of alternative look didn’t really faze him. 

It’s after Richie comes outside to bother him that the former notices his thousand yard stare right at you. 

“‘Scuse me, sweetheart!” Richie shouts down the street, before Carmy can shut his ass up. “Need a few pairs of hands?”

You look up from where you’re struggling to open the shop door while holding a large box, a big grin on your face as you accept their help. Richie all but drags Carmy over as he tells Fak to "get it fuckin' right this time," taking the box from your hands and taking it inside. 

“Oh my god, you guys are lifesavers, thank you.” You smile, holding the door open for them as they retrieve the last few boxes out of your trunk. 

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart, just being neighborly.” Richie says. “I’m Richie, this jagoff is Carmen. We own and operate The Bear down the street.” 

“Jus’ Carmy is fine.” He interjects quietly. 

You nod, looking between them. “Oh, I’ve heard of you guys! I’ll have to come in sometime,” you pause, subtly trying to get an eyeful of Carmy. 

“That would be awesome— you know, Carmy’s got a lot of tats, don’t you, Cousin?” 

Carmen, who is wearing a long sleeved blue sweatshirt, stills as you look him over, before rolling up his sleeves. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t immediately ogling his hands when he first walked up to you. 

“Oh, I love the snail, that’s awesome! Well, if you were ever looking to add to your collection, we open next Thursday. It’d be cool to see you guys around.” 

“You’ll be sick of us before you know it.” Carmy agrees. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” You smile, a little shy by now. The way you and Carmy are looking at each other doesn’t go unnoticed by Richard. 

After a few weeks of saying hi and giving a wave when you crossed paths, it was only after a really shitty Saturday night that Carmen decided he wasn't ready to go home. They were closed the next two days, Sunday Monday which coincided with your hours, funny enough. 

As Carmy locks up, he looks out the window to see the lights still on at your shop, seeing you mill about and take care of the last of your customers. It’s nearly 1am, The Bear stopped seating at 11:30 each night, where your shop closed at 12am on Saturday nights. He supposed you also had a pretty busy day.

The bell above the door chimes softly as he enters, looking around timidly for you. 

You’re finishing up with a client, reminding them of proper aftercare.

“Oh shit— Hey, Carmy! Give me just a sec, I’ll be right with you!” You say, then go back to the guy in front of you. “Clean it with unscented, antibacterial soap, pat dry with a clean paper towel, and use a thin layer of moisturizer— CeraVe works pretty well for me. Don’t take the bandage off until tomorrow morning and try your best not to sleep on it.” 

You help get your client checked out, sending him out the door with a final goodbye, before locking it and turning off the red and blue ‘open’ sign. 

“Got time for one more?” Carmy asked. 

“Sure,” you say, moving behind the counter. “Have anything in mind, or did you wanna flip through my flash books?” 

“Flash— it’s already late, ‘m not gonna make you draw somethin’ up for me."

“Another time, then.” You grin. You go through your books, showing him different styles you offer. A lot of them are more along the American Traditional style, some fineline, some simple, some that were decently intricate for flash sheets. 

While he chose his design, you got to work cleaning your station, sanitizing everything, changing out the old needles for new ones, taking your time and making idle conversation across the shop. 

“What made you wanna open your shop?” He ended up asking. 

“Didn’t know what to do with my art degree. Six years at Pratt Institute of Art, and I hadn’t given a thought as to what I wanted to do. Drawing has always been a big part of me, so it gives me a chance to do what I like. Plus, sometimes it’s kinda fun to see people squirm.” You laughed the last part off, shaking your head at how suggestive it sounded. 

“You’re cold, huh?” He smirked. 

“Bad to the bone, Carmy. You decide on what you’re gettin’?” 

He decided on a box of matches with a rose on the front, one of them sticking out of the package and lit up with fire. He decided not to get any color, sticking with his usual black and white aesthetic. He chose a spot on his arm, on the front of his shoulder near the end of his collarbone. 

It was quite an intimate setup, Carmy taking off his sweatshirt and wearing only a white muscle tank underneath, part of the hem pulled back to expose his tanned skin. You leaned close as he sat back in the chair, head back and looking up at the ceiling. 

“Not that I mind the company, but what made you decide to come in?” You asked, peeking up at him for a moment, your eyes following the silhouette of his face against the fluorescent lights. 

“Had a shitty night at work— didn’t wanna go home just yet. Did you mean to be open so late?” 

“That sucks, sorry to hear that. I was finishing up with that guy earlier; he’s followed me on instagram for a while, and wanted to wait for me to get a proper setup before he came in. He’s a talker, though, it was kinda hard to get rid of him.” You chuckled, wiping at his skin with a clean paper towel. 

“‘S fine, same as always. Richie can’t keep his mouth shut even if it would do everyone some good.” 

Once the tattoo is finished, you snap a few pictures for your portfolio (with permission ofc) and allow him to stand up and take a look in the mirror before you wrap it up. 

“This is fuckin’ sick, thanks,” he mumbles, but the sorters of his lips turn up in satisfaction. 

“Glad to hear. I won’t bother you with the aftercare stuff, I’m sure you know what you’re doin’, but you’ll let me know if you have any trouble with it or anything, right?” You slide a business card across the glass countertop, watching as he inspects it, then slides it into his worn out wallet. You stop him as he starts pulling out cash, asking what the damage is. 

“C’mon, let me pay you, yeah?” 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you next time, promise.” You wink. 

“‘M not leavin’ till you let me give you somethin’,” He said sternly. 

Your eyes lock for a moment before you speak up. “How about this— we go get coffee on Monday, if you’re not busy? 

With a sigh, Carmen relents, putting his wallet away with a short few nods. 

“It’s a deal. Want me to just meet you here? Maybe around noon ‘r somethin’?” 

“That sounds great. I’ll see you on Monday.” You smile, turning around to grab something, and he’s out the door. It makes your heart sink just for a moment, until you see three one-hundred dollar bills on the counter— way more than you would’ve charged normally, even at a discounted price. 

Then you’re pissed, because through the window, you catch his smug grin as he glances back at you one final time tonight.

——

ask box is open!! feel free to send ideas!! 🫶 -Star

[arabella0001]

.・。 cn: piercer! eren, pain kink, praising, light sub/dom, blowjob

part 1 part 2

────────────

Eren didn’t wait long for you to make the first move. Ever since he pierced your nipples, he figured you were pretty into him.

He couldn’t deny he was into you too. Your alluring, obedient eyes, mixed with your hesitant behavior and the potential to mold you into something he wanted, were all right there.

So when you texted him, late at night, a little tipsy just to get the courage, it was well received.

The whole conversation made your insides warm, your vision blurry, emotions buzzing under your skin from how he teased you. And very wet also.

You were so attracted to him and the way he behaved that it was getting harder to stay in control around him.

And Eren was more than happy to see you lose that control.

When you walked into the room where he pierced you last time, the low red light made him look even more intimidating. He glanced at you from the side, with a slight tilt of his smile.

“Hmm, you’re punctual.”

You forced a friendly smile, hands already clammy with nerves, voice a little too soft.

“H-hello! Yes, I’m usually like this.”

Eren turned with that charismatic smile, tilting his head and motioning you closer.

There was a knot in your throat, and your eyes couldn’t help but wander down his body. The loose black t-shirt, the silver chain with a key at his neck, the black jeans that made him look too hot to function. His hair was tied back, as always when he worked, but a single strand still fell over his face, near those intense green eyes that held nothing innocent.

He leaned against the table you were supposed to lie on, gently taking your hand to pull you closer. He stuck his tongue out, slowly moving the piercing in it. The movement was hypnotic and Eren chuckled at your reaction.

“So, I guess you like it.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked away, anywhere but at him.

“It looks good. I think I want one after all.”

“It feels good too. Or so I’ve heard.”

Your cheeks flushed red instantly.

Cute, Eren thought.

You froze in place when Eren leaned close to your ear, whispering:

“Don’t you wanna try?”

Your mind was blank. Your lips parted slightly as your breathing grew heavy, and Eren lifted his head to look at you, his gaze dropping from your mouth to your shy eyes.

He gently tilted your chin with his long, slender fingers. Even that felt attractive, especially with the metal ring on his hand. Still, he searched your expression for confirmation.

“Hm?”

Without thinking twice, you whispered,

“I do.”

“Good.”

When his lips touched yours, it felt unreal. Your mouth parted slightly, letting his tongue slip inside. He moved slowly over your lips, sucking them in until he gently bit your bottom lip, pulling it just enough to make you moan.

It was more than instinct when Eren deepened the kiss, his tongue searching and dominating yours, one hand wrapping around your back, pulling you close, overwhelming you with his warm, spicy scent — bergamot, vetiver, and cedarwood.

You gasped when the piercing in his tongue pressed against yours. It was hard, but you adjusted, careful not to hurt him though he didn’t seem affected. In fact, it made him kiss you more hungrily.

You didn’t know what to do with your hands, hyper-aware of your body, but luckily Eren’s grip kept you steady — obedient for him.

When both his hands grabbed your ass and lifted you roughly, pressing your chest against his, you started moaning more into his mouth. He kissed you like he knew exactly how you wanted it.

When your lips finally parted, a string of saliva still connected you. Eren smirked at your trembling form, brushing a finger across your lips to test your reaction by dragging it down.

You didn’t hesitate, your mouth opened instantly, accepting his finger and sucking on it instinctively, eagerly. Your eyes were full of hunger as the sounds you made drove him insane.

He pushed the finger deeper, teasing your throat, making you choke slightly — which only made you wetter, your thighs squeezing together.

Eren placed a hand on your head, petting you gently, though you already had more than just gentle thoughts.

You didn’t look away from him as you slowly dropped to your knees. His voice was deeper now, breath uneven, anticipation thick between you. Ready to make you his favorite cumdump.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.”

His praise didn’t go unnoticed, it made you even more desperate to unbuckle his belt, needing to reach his hard cock begging for attention.

Eren slowly lifted your shirt, revealing your healed, pierced tits, and massaged them firmly. Your mouth opened in a moan, leaning into his touch.

“I made them much prettier, did you know?”

You nodded as he squeezed your boobs, moving the piercings slightly, a jolt of pain hit you in exactly the way you needed, making you whimper.

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Y-yes.”

“If you do a good job, maybe you’ll get plenty more of this.”

“Mhmm…” you bit your lip, eyes shut in focus as his hand traveled from your neck, to your collarbone, under your tits, then back up to squeezing them again, occasionally tugging on your nipple.

Your trembling hands pulled Eren’s pants and underwear down — and his cock, way bigger than expected, now stood right in front of your face.

He noticed your hesitation but stroked your cheek reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I know you can take me.”

Still unsure, your hands wrapped around the base, gently stroking, making Eren groan.

You brought him to your lips, spreading his precum over them like gloss and marking yourself with his essence. Your desperate eyes nearly made Eren shove himself in your mouth, but he let you have your moment. You started licking him slowly, top to bottom, curling your lips around the tip, one hand cradling his full balls.

Eren was already thinking he was right. You were going to be his favorite pretty slut.

When you finally took him in and started bobbing fast, gagging intentionally, Eren slowly lost control — groaning, head falling back, one hand gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail, yanking it occasionally to make you suck better.

When you looked up at him with that sinful gaze, Eren bucked deeper into your throat, choking you. You pulled back for a breath.

“You like my dick, hm?”

“Yes… I love it.”

He thrust in and out of your mouth, occasionally grinding it on your cheek and lips.

“I knew you’d be a good girl. A perfect cumslut for me.”

His filthy words made you whine, desperate for release. You felt like you could come just from hearing him, just from knowing how hard he was in your mouth.

He brushed your hair back, stroking your ruined face before gripping his cock.

“Tongue out, baby.”

You stuck it out immediately with eyes shut, moaning muffled as he slapped it against your tongue.

“You want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

You opened your eyes, tingling with need.

“Please, Eren.”

He groaned at your desperation, shoving his cock into your mouth until it hit your swollen throat.

No time to adjust — he started fucking your face slowly but hard, drool running down your chin. You braced yourself on his thighs as Eren began deepthroating you, faster and deeper.

Your teary eyes ruined your makeup, but all you could do was moan — euphoric in your submission to be a warm hole only for him.

“Good fucking girl. Taking me like a perfect little slut.” He pulled out, then straddled your face again, shoving himself back into your mouth. “My perfect little slut,” he corrected, thrusting until your throat locked around him, hips jerking forward, grinding into your messy, ruined face.

“Should I cum in your throat, baby? Wanna feel your belly full?”

You nodded desperately, shoving forward, swallowing him in one greedy gulp. Heavy spurts shot down your throat. You tried to take all of it, but some leaked onto your chin and your swollen breasts.

His groan showed just how much your mouth satisfied him — keeping you still, making you whimper against his cock, completely ruined.

He pulled out with a wet pop, smearing the rest of his cum over your lips and cheeks, eyes dazed with lust, lost in your obedience.

“Only mine.”

His hoarse voice snapped you back to reality. You looked at him, a little dazed yourself, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He gently cupped your jaw, a possessive edge in his gaze.

“Tell me.”

“Only yours, Eren.”

He smiled at your answer, lifting you off the ground, steadying your trembling legs as his lips found yours again, dizzying in their passion, dragging you over him like you were one.

Eren was sure there were more… interesting experiences to come now that he had you.

[rivalriotrenegade]

Nikto x Reader

(I accidentally deleted this so I’m reposting it 🥹)

Nikto has a form of D.I.D and often refers to himself as “we” which is why it’s written like that in the story.

About: Nikto x GN reader. This one was written in about 20 minutes and edited in 5 so it’s kind of sloppy, but still sweet. Not my best work lol. The story is just you calling him pretty. Also the use of “Andre” which is going to be his actual name in the story. 

Warnings: CHEEEEEEEESY to the MAX! Also some slightly toxic behaviors. Nikto went through a lot and hurt people hurt people, but basically he tries to use his height to ever so slightly intimidate reader for like .05 seconds. Also descriptions of kissing? Is that a warning? 

Summary: Nikto does not think he’s beautiful, if anything he thinks he’s the exact opposite. It had taken well over a year of dating before he was comfortable enough to show you his face. After seeing him maskless for the first time you began to call him “My pretty boy” He hated it at first. Honestly he thinks you’re trying to be cruel. After a while of bottling it up he finally explodes. 

It was about 10:30 at night and you're just starting to make some late night spaghetti. You knew he had a rough few weeks with KorTac and thought it’d be nice for him to have a home cooked meal. You had just put the hamburger into the sauce and realized you needed something to stir it with. “Hey pretty boy, can you pass me the spatula?” You ask.

You're caught off guard when Nikto, who had been quiet most of the night, suddenly explodes. “Don’t call me that! I am not pretty!” He snarls. You cock your head to the side not sure where all this anger is coming from. “But I think you’re pretty. Are you telling me that my opinion is wrong?” You question. 

“You’re lying! You’re lying! Do NOT lie to us!” He hisses, stepping into your space caging you between him and the counter, purposely looming over you, trying to make you back down. His eyes are wide, wild. He’s looking at you like he doesn’t know you. Your own eyes soften. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. “Oh Andre.” You say slowly reaching up to cup his face. Nikto flinches back slightly before letting you touch him. You gently caress his face. “I’m not lying. Have I ever lied to you?” You ask.

Nikto hesitates for a moment taking deep breaths trying to ground himself before whispering out a hoarse “no.” He pauses before continuing his voice cracking, “But I can’t be pretty.” You cradle his face in your hands and carefully pull him down so you’re almost eye to eye. “But you are.” You say. “You are the most beautiful person I know. You have gone through some horrible things and you survived. To me these scars are proof of how strong you really are. There a reminder that you came back alive, so how could I think that they'd be anything less than beautiful?”

Nikto stares at you, his eyes unreadable. He stares at you until it’s just bordering in to the territory of being uncomfortable and then before you even know what was happening, he’s kissing you. Usually his kisses are rough and dominating, but this one is desperate. He’s kissing you like this is the last time he’ll ever see you. His hands grip at your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, determined to keep you there. 

He sucks on your bottom lip and when you part them he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He’d never admit it, but you swear you hear him whine against you. His movements are frantic, feverish. Like any space between the two of you needs to be all but eradicated. When he pulls back your both left breathless and panting.

He then pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your neck. “I love you.” He breaths. You smile, rubbing his back up and down to sooth him. “And I love you too, my pretty boy.” 

(You swear you feel him cling to you a little tighter)

[epicleovilanon]

Second Year Squad Hangover Fic

so. so i actually have a new fic in the works (and yes, i AM working on the who framed kalim al asim fic still, dw!!) but this one is a bit more focused on the second year squad.

i just love a good second year squad centric fic lol. i love a fic with a big cast in general, i discovered this when i fell in love with @the-nameless-ramekin absolute wonder of a fic, strawberry tarts and other love languages, it has become my favorite fic and was what ultimately inspired me to write a second year squad fic.

but my fic, so far, has two parts, though it might end up being three, because its a hangover trilogy au!! i just think a hangover fic with the second years would be funny af

Part 1

no one’s getting married in this part--because they're still technically students at NRC. It’s the night before their graduation--or well, two nights before their graduation. so the weekend maybe? and they're at the twst equivalent of Vegas or smth

they do indeed get roofied

ITS NOT AN ACCIDENT THOUGH THEY GET ROOFIED BECAUSE JADE SWITCHED IT ON PURPOSE BECAUSE HE THRIVES OFF CHAOS

they lose silver

(see, it had to be Silver. if they lost azul, jamil would be like it’s alright we can dip. and if they lost kalim, jamil would have found him instantly. bro probably has a tracker on him or smth. talked this fic out with @mari-oaky (as always lol) who said, "kalim thinks that his and jamil's soul are so connected they will always find eachother, meanwhile jamil is never leaving without his gps tracker" and honestlty???? yeah. pretty much!!)

silver just lends to the funniest possible outcome, because the second year squad is aware that there is always the possibility that he just fell asleep somewhere

Silver: I can't believe I got trashed and made everyone worry--and late to their graduation on top of that. I'm so ashamed Lillia, somewhere, anywhere: AYOOOOOO THATS MY BOYYYY

Part 2

In part 2, there is a timeskip, and Azul and Idia are getting married.

they lose AZUL

because they lose Azul, it does lend to a similar scenario as the first hangover movie, but trust me, it works!!

see, losing azul offers a lot of fun shenanigans both with the second years trying to figure out what happened and find azul, and also with some of the other guests back at the wedding trying to stall for time

like idia knows that there are some really important guests, and he also knows that azul would hate to make a bad impression on these people. so he ends up having to put himself in situations he doesn't like to stall until the second years find azul

(man's gotta make small talk!! the horror!!!!!)

idia having to talk to people and everyone’s like damn so he IS in love

(idia's always needing to be rescued at weddings lmaooo)

and it's just--it's so funny to me because the last time they all hung out together at the same time, all of them, was the weekend before graduation when they lost Silver. and now, they all reunite for azul’s wedding and then they lose HIM

-x-Additional Notes-x-

so something that works both in Part 1-Graduation, and Part 2-Wedding, is that the second years haven't seen each other in a long time in either scenario, because during their last year at NRC they were all spread far away from each other doing internships, and later, the wedding happens years after NRC. so there could be a lot of unresolved situations between them

for instance, i wondered a lot about kalim and jamil. i thought of questions like, have kalijami seen each other? did jamil go back to silk city with kalim after graduation. if so, those two nights before graduation were the last two days of freedom he would enjoy in a while. and he can’t even remember them. if i go that route, he’s gonna attack jade when he finds out the dude purposely drugged them

but if jamil DOESNT return to silk city because kalim is planning to set jamil free, yet doesnt actuallu tell jamil about this plan until the ACTUAL DAY HE DOES IT, which is graduation, then you have a kalim desperate to spend the last two days he’ll ever spend with jamil. and jamil trying to spend the last two days free of kalim (as free as he’ll allow himself anyways)

but NEITHER CAN REMEMBER!!

and then—Part 2, the wedding. by then, are they good!?!? or are they still in this cycle of misunderstandings. are they together! or are they in a messy situationship.

is the wedding the first time jamil and kalim are seeing each other post-graduation or has jamil gone back to kalim at some point in between? so those were the type of questions i was considering

and then--the final product for Part 1 kalim and jamil ended up being a mix! they had gone on diffferent internships, as they are very different people with different interests. also it's slow progress towards jamil's freedom. so after a lot of efforts to convince their families, kalim and jamil were able to at least accomplish this much.

(and it's pretty much a given that they need time apart to figure out what they mean to eachother, this could be a first step towards that)

and, during his internship jamil realizes that he feels something for kalim? he's not sure what it is exactly, and his reaction is to panic because, after thinking a lot about it, he really wants to confess and figure it out, but he also fears that if he does he won't be able to leave kalim after they graduate, eventually regretting the fact that he couldn't spend more time on his own

we could sooo play with tension here, because what if he doesn’t want to leave!! and the thing is he has to, HE HAS to so they can work. its KALIM who has realized this, and made a mature selfless decision. he lets jamil go, but says he’ll wait if jamil wants to come back when he’s ready

hangover wedding edition they're together!

and it works because kalim and jamil's relationship has so many similarities to aladdin and genie too! imagine kalim hesitating to free jamil because he's scared that he'll lose him forever or because he's scared that he won't be able to move forward without jamil's help

but also, as @yuurei20 put it, he takes a lot of inspiration from sindbad too as a character that values frindship above any treasure in the world (in the more recent park ride) so he would have to come to term with letting jamil go

but kalim hesitating!!!! struck me that it could be a big factor in the hangover fic

like, you have jamil who is on the verge of realizing his feelings and what that means—the fear that he will want to stay. and a kalim who is hesitant about making good on his promise to free jamil, bc he 1) thinks he’s never going to see jamil again, 2) is worried abt how he’ll handle it and 3) jamil is FINALLY looking at him in that way

like yes, he values and loves jamil so much, he would have to let jamil go, and it’s gonna be hard, because jamil is—he wants to travel the world, but he’s also, he’s also nervous like. this is the first time he’s fully truly stepping away and finding himself and he’s a little scared

jamil almost suggests to kalim to come with him, they can travel the world together. but kalim would know instantly that jamil is just saying it because he is afraid of letting go of kalim, like he's still responsible for kalim's safety and wellbeing

and maybe jamil is a little scared of being alone too. he wants it more than anything, but that's not how he has lived his life until now. kalim having to be the one to make the mature decision of letting jamil go and letting jamil know there’s always space to come back to him. and kalim needing to trust in jamil to wait. while jamil needs to trust kalim can grow and can leave a spot open for jamil (which. the latter is the most obvious thing everyone knows. no one does devotion to jamil the way kalim does)

(thank you mari-oaky for being so awesome about everything and bouncing ideas around with me, you're just so amazing, i love your brain!!)

it was in fact mari-oaky who proposed the idea of there also being some drama between azul and another second year. like they were in an on and off relationship, and by the end of the first hangover they definitely break up. which leads to him eventually starting a relationship with idia. i loved that idea so much, especially because I already knew what i wanted to do with characters like Riddle.

riddle, by the time of azul’s wedding, is someone who is still not happy. he’s doing everything he’s supposed to. he’s set boundaries with his mother, he has a good job, he’s close with the heartslaybul boys and chenya still. but. he’s still unhappy. and they try to help but he still isn’t sure why he isn’t satisfied

so i'm still figuring out if the second year azul is having a turbulent and doomed entanglement with is Riddle, Ruggie, or Jade.

and just, figuring out these dynamic is so much fun because silver basically sleeps the first one out like the unproblematic king he is. he's got no time for drama. only sleep. and then, by the wedding, he’s involved poor guy 😭

but i'm still figuring some key dynamics out, and if anyone has any suggestions or questions, my asks and/or dms are always open!

[kuhciao]

quality qualifying

strollconso . 750 words

𝜗𝜚 a/n: this is old and has been sitting in my notes for a while. i want it gone but it’s not worthy of ao3

(brainstormed with @isacksteban)

lance has had a great kickstart to the season, esteban and fernando can’t help but get jealous. they decide to punish lance with an.. interesting vibrating object after both being knocked out q1 while lance fights to get into q3.

lance had mentioned it once. it was said drunkly between him and fernando over a year ago after fernando’s podium in brazil. lance had completely forgotten about it, and he’d assumed that fernando had too, given how wasted the spaniard had really been that night (so drunk that he had confused lance for a woman). lance also would have never thought that esteban had any clue about any of this. but somehow, he did. and now lance is figuring it out that they both know all these months later. in any other situation, it would’ve been a pleasant surprise, but not in this one.

taking the final few turns of his lap during free practice three slowly, testing the grip of the tires as he made his way around the suzuka circuit, lance was confident in his abilities. the last two races had been in his favor, he’d finished pretty well for the cars ability. fernando hadn’t even finished either race and esteban had been struggling with the car. everyone, but lance, was frustrated with their results and there had been obvious tension between the three of them.

so fernando and esteban decide to get lance back.

between turns 13 and 14, the spoon curve, lance is on a high lap. he’s found the perfect racing line to follow and his lap time is speedy. that is, until something scares the shit out of him. was it the car? there’s a vibrating right in his lap now. lance’s eyes widen under the helmet as he grips the steering wheel harder. he loses his line and nearly goes into the grass.

he reaches for the radio button, not having connected the dots yet. “something is vibrating by the seat. i can’t figure out what it is.” lance says over the radio, voice horse. he quickly releases the button because a lewd sound is creeping up his throat.

the first noise is panicked. the vibration near his lap is intense for a second, but then it disappears. lance feels a small twitch in his pants, his cock slowly stirring to life. lance’s brain churns, faster than the car is moving, as he tries to think of some reason for this. and then it hits him—this isn’t the car, there are no issues. fernando has really found a pair of remote controlled vibrating panties like lance mentioned all those years ago, and lance didn’t notice that they were not just like the normal panties that fernando had usually bought him.

lance takes a moment to collect himself and takes a deep breath as he drives now the straight. his heart is beating rapidly, rattling against his ribcage. “lance? are you good?” his engineer asked over the radio, voice scaring lance once more, since he’s already on edge.

lance lets out a breath. “yes, just the seat coming loose, but i fixed it.” he lies right through his teeth, something he’s become all too good at.

the engineer comes over the radio again just as the vibrating starts once more. lance jolts and hits the curb, but countersteers to stay on the track. “your heart rate keeps spiking and you keep doing whatever that was.” the engineer presses. lance doesn’t respond to the message right away, and he contemplates even doing it at all. he lets out a short whine as the panties vibrate against the underside of his cock, making his whole body tingle.

from the pitlane, esteban and fernando laugh loudly, slapping each others backs as they hand a little remote back and forth, taking turns toying with their sweet little lance. they’d both been knocked out in q1 and had been messing with lance the entire time since then.

“he’s probably crying!” esteban laughs, knowing how easy it is to overstimulate lance, grabbing the remote from fernando without asking this time. he turns it the highest setting, his fingers finding the button on autopilot. fernando looks up to watch the race on the screen hanging from the ceiling of the garage. lance nearly goes off track, loses 0.4 seconds and curses over the radio.

“lance stroll knocked out in q2!” says crofty. a very angry lance rolls into the pitlane a minute or two later.

“excited?” esteban asks, waving his hands at lance in a wild gesture.

lance glances down, then groans. the suit is doing little to nothing to hide his erection.

“hi, little lance.” fernando laughs, crossing his feet and leaning back in his chair as he steals a glance at lance’s clothed, standing cock.

this would be nothing short of a fun night.

property of kuhciao on tumblr. do not repost outside of tumblr or plagiarize.

[xxl4vend3rxx]

SK8 HEADCANNONS; CHERRY

Cherry's identity off the mountain is a well known secret, and a well kept one at that. All participants of S keep his identity outside of it to themselves. If any of them see Kaoru out in public, they'll shoot him a knowing, friendly smile or a respectful nod, but never go up to him if it will put him on the spot or get seen by any of his high end associates.

(I also HC that when Reki called out cherry at that one exhibition, there were members of S in the crowd who nearly rushed him for what he did)

If anyone is caught discussing his identity, they'll either be shut down for "Spreading Rumors" or taken care of.. if you know what I mean. Karou is somewhat aware of this, but Joe really keeps him from dwelling on it too much, knowing he's the one who confirmed any suspicions of who Kaoru was after "The incident". (As S refers to it), outing him to the whole of S' presence that night.

But everyone has pretty much written it off given what Cherry has done for them as a community, and would never do something that could potentially cost is reputation and presence.

~~~

Cherry was absolutely mortified for the whole of his recovery period, feeling completely useless for the entirety of it, unable to walk, reach anything higher than his shoulders, bathe himself or even tie his hair. However, the one and only person who Karou allowed to help him, was Joe. He was the one who would help Cherry while he silently pouted, the one who did his hair when just attempting it brought him to frustrated tears, and offered comfort when everything became a little too much. They are yet to discuss the predicament they had found themselves in, and cherry is yet to overtly say thank you..

~~~

Karou is like one step above a perfectionist. like seemingly simple tasks will genuinely take him three times as long as most people to accomplish, just out of his sheer stubbornness and desire to be perfect. Kojiro is highly aware of this as well, and sometimes does subtle things to less cherry up when he's tidying, writing or painting (moving cups, cutlery, brushes etc..) and he gets an offensively good kick out of it too.

~~~

His grades in school were straight ASS. He was one of the "rowdy" and "Disruptive" kids, so he didn't get a lot of attention in school when he was younger - he was just a neuro-divergent student who needed extra help and acted out because he wasn't getting it. the only things he remotely excelled in was literature, computing and the arts. He is abysmal with all kinds of curricular sciences, and struggles with several forms of math, but when it comes down to ones, zeroes, paints and code, he's golden.

~~~

He can not cook for the life of him. Kojiro had banned him from Sia's kitchen because of what happened last time (Jeez you burn water one time and suddenly you're a safety hazard) but he can bake shockingly well. He is very skilled in savory deserts though, something he claims is completely unrelated to a certain someone's taste pallet...

~~~

He is a WHORE for spicy foods - that one chibi cutscene says enough

~~~

The real reason he did not give Langa a job was not because of his age, it was because of his writing. You can not be an employee at a calligraphy studio when you can hardly write your name in the basic, standardized alphabet!! The way Langa found out about it was not great either - Miya was in need of a good summer job so he could stay out of his house as well as making some extra cash, so he logically went to Cherry to see if he was willing to take him in for the break. Cherry of course said yes, but when Langa heard about it he did not hesitate to bring up the age policy when he next saw the man at Joe's restaurant.

Karou immediately choked on his wine and turned a deep red. Joe did NOT make explaining things any easier, leering over and antagonizing the poor man further, pressing and prodding until cherry gently explained why he could not have hired the poor kid. Langa could not have cared less, he instead said he was really happy cherry had not given him the job, because if he had have done, he wouldn't have bumped into Reki, and then none of this would have happened at all! that lifted Cherry's mood quite a bit, though he never said anything Langa could tell.

~~~

When Cherry found out Reki had planned on coming to see him in the hospital, he nearly cried on the spot, though he profusely denied it. It meant a lot to him that Reki had come, but he had to admit some of it was brought on by relief; he had half assumed Reki didn't really care for him after he hadn't seen him in the hospital, he had mentioned it to Joe, who immediately reassured him that there was likely something more to it, but it helped him to have genuine closure.

Once he realised that Reki had said he DID come to the hospital, that he just didn't go in, he pressed for answers - to which Reki told him about running form the others, to getting hit by the car- THE WHAT.

Cherry immediately interrogated him on what had happened, and let's leave his reaction to the love hotel to our imaginations, but it was not pretty.

~~~

He chopped his hair off after what happened with Adam, and Joe cried when he saw it.

~~~

Langa called him Dad one time haphazardly, while the pair were working on some writing together, and neither of them realised it at the time, only hours later before falling asleep. cherry had not planned on bringing it up, worrying it would embarrass Langa at all, but the kid instead profusely apologized the next time they saw each other, Cherry merely insisting it was alright and ruffling Langa's hair and asking him something vague about Reki.

~~~

He had programmed Carla to recognize Joe's voice, and plans on doing so for the kids and shadow at some point, once they prove to him they can be responsible enough to have that privilege. The best part is he didn't even tell Kojiro about it - he found out on his won when he mockingly greeted her and she replied with his entire government name, somewhat unsettling him, but he found it sweet; of course mocking Kaoru for getting all sentimental on him.

~~~

Carla is programmed to sense when Cherry is stressed, or on the verge of a panic attack, and her bracelet will buzz with a melodic pattern as a warning. Only him and Kojiro are aware of what it means, and he looks out for Karou where he can.

~~~

total cat person but can't imagine having one as a pet, so he sticks to feeding the neighborhood strays when he sees them.

~~~

He once tried to tutor Renga, and he nearly left the room alone with how infuriating they are to handle in combination, always asking for unnecessary breaks, getting sidetracked or just blatantly ignoring constructive criticism (Albeit was nearly all unasked for) and for some obscene reason it was the funniest thing Joe and Miya had ever seen.

OKAY THAT'S ALL FOR NOW TELL ME IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN THE OTHER CHARACTERS' HCS!!

[616ioi]

Oh boy, sakamoto days characters with a short chubby reader, who is shy, submissive as hell and she gets scared easily. Man they love your body, squeezing it, touching you everywhere, they cannot take their hands off of you!! Most importantly they love how jumpy you get and how you blubber something when they get closer to you >\\\<

Can be sfw or nsfw, whichever you feel like :3

cant think of a single character that wont look good with a chubby gf 😛

At nights, they stay up and watch you sleep (as creepy as it sounds). Thumpthump! Heat spreads through their body as you cling to them. This is rare. It seems like you can't stand being in their presence during your waking hours — shrinking into yourself when they loom over you, then frowning when they step away. Sometimes, they'd purposely tease, and poke fun, and prank you just to get a reaction, something different from the usually timid responses.

One, not so hidden, quirk; you're a scaredy-cat. Aww, how cute. I mean, it's not like anyone can't tell anyway. You have your emotions written on your sleeve.

You stutter and tear up when they scare you. You stumble and choke on your breath when they press a lingering kiss to your temple and, their most favorite reaction of all, the way your eyes widen and you straighten up when they walk in.

It's like you hate them.

Yet here you are. Naked under the covers, love bites on your neck. Just a couple of hours ago you were clinging onto them as if your life depended on it. The way you squirm and the way you tried to hide your face as their hands ran all over every curve and every squish.

They caress your hand, testing out the size of your ring finger and engraving it into their mind.

Shishiba. Nagumo. Gozu. Natsuki seba. Uzuki kei.

A sucker for this type of woman. Their type 100%. Though, I feel that, at first, this was more of a fantasy. They'd imagine having a pretty little thing such as yourself, to spoil and to love, yet when they gets to the point of actually being in a relationship (or anything tbh) they fumble and get just as nervous.

They're swearing in their mind, soaking their clothes with sweat and you seem just as anxious which doesn't help them! But they push through — only for you to reject them by running away.

They were so certain you'd return the affection, but knowing you and you terribly timid ways, it was going to take a while to get through you.

GAKU (he's as nonchalant as he can be but trust me, he feels like he unlocked a secret scene pack the second he looks into your eyes). Rion akao. Hyo. Taro sakamoto. Shin asakura. Kindaka. Kashima.

Obsessed. Obsessed. Obsessed. This is unhealthy; the way they think of you. They way their sadistic mind churns with need when they imagine teasing you until you twist and turn with embarrassment.

Sick; how much they want to laugh in your face and return home (if they can last for that long) to shove a hand down their pants. Nauseating; when they come in contact with your plushy skin, the blossoming red on their faces spreading down their body when you shy away from their 'innocent' touch.

You might as well kill them with love.

Haruma. Tenkyu. Kumanomi. Yostumura satoru.

So confused. This feeling is something wrong, maybe? Why do they feel so anxious... with the things tossing and turning in this stomach and the way their hearts push against their rib cage. Its so weird when you walk into the room all dressed up with a tiny smile and their demeanor brightens up. Everyone notices too, but oddly enough, it's not embarrassing to them.

They want to spend more time with you, but you don't seem to like them. So, they keep their distance.

That doesn't stop them from taking a picture or two of you, looking at it with heart eyes when they miss you. Sometimes they can't even stare at it without blushing and throwing themselves to the ground!

Osaragi. Kamihate. Lu.

[saturdaynightspecialpresentation]

Let's Watch Libertarian Propaganda for Children for Some Reason

Hey everybody, look, it’s the Tuttle Twins!

Yeah, there they are. Zooping around on their time machine.

The Tuttle Twins is a streaming show from Angel Studios, the independent studio behind Sound of Freedom and various Christian and Christian-Adjacent movies. They’ve got some movie about Jesus out right now.

No, you can’t- The Buddy Christ thing isn’t- You don’t- 

Anyway, although I first heard about this cartoon from a youtube channel called “Fundie Fridays” The Tuttle Twins isn’t a Christian propaganda cartoon, it’s a Libertarian propaganda cartoon.

One that teaches kids how to buy Bitcoin!

After watching just the episode about Bitcoin, I wanted to watch and talk about some more episodes. And I sketched out a bit of an intro explaining what Libertarianism is in the minds of the people who created this show, but then I had a second thought.

“Am I just describing a straw-man libertarianism? Am I just paraphrasing these ideas in a way that I find easy to refute? Have I become the very Tuttle Twins I was trying to defeat?"

And then I watched the very first episode and their description of what they believe is pretty much word for word how I was going to explain it.

And hey, they put that episode up on youtube, we can watch it together!

(You can also watch season 1 and 2 and most of 3 for free on their slightly wonky app or web site, but there are a few full episodes on youtube as well)

Or you could skip it and read my amazing summary below!

Anyway, after a brief cold open that sees the twins hurtling through dimensions, and a pretty cute gag we cut to our entrepreneurial twins selling lemonade. The science-minded Emily is using it fund a trip to science camp, and Ethan is using it to fund his purchase of an enormous gummy bear. 

Until, that is, they are confronted by Karinne.

Likes: Fiat Currency, Communism, sweater vests. Dislikes: Freedom

I gotta be honest, I don’t totally get Karinne, she’s kind of a foil or frenemy for the main characters, and she comes off kind of preppy coded, sort of the snobbish rich kid used to getting what she wants, but y’all are libertarians, you shouldn’t be shaming her for the fact that her parents are Randian producers. 

Honestly I am eternally fascinated by kids show characters whose job is to be constantly wrong, but after watching a few episodes I don’t really have a clear read on her. Sometimes she tags along on an adventure and acts as an ideological foil for the kids, but so far I've seen her argue for fiat currency, religious intolerance, the NSA, and using the power of the president for self-enrichment. So... Uh... Not the raging communist I was lead to expect, put it that way.

Also there is a running joke for the first season where people keep pronouncing her name “Karen” and I don’t know if the joke is she’s supposed to be kind of a Karen in the slang sense? But honestly when I picture the kind of mother who would show this show to her kids… People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, that’s all I’m saying.

Anyway, it turns out Karinne is the president of the “Cul-de-sac Kids Club” and last night she held a meeting to amend the laws of the kids club to allow the president to have as much lemonade as she wants, so she has some lackeys just cart away all of the lemonade, leaving our heroes without a way to earn money in the glorious American free market economy, what with the means of production having been confiscated and all.

The good news, though, is that Grandma is moving in! Along with her pet, and very specifically not tame raccoon Derek, who was banned from her previous dwelling by the HOA because, quote, “HOAs are full of communists”. Someone should put that on a shirt and sell plush toys of that raccoon.

I do enjoy the fact that her first impulse on hearing that Karinne is going to confiscate the lemonade is to slingshot a bar of soap at her head:

Don’t worry, she doesn’t actually assault a child.

Anyway, that night as the twins are lamenting the loss of they hear the noise of an acetylene welding torch coming from their grandmother’s room.

It turns out she made her mobility scooter into a gadget-laden time machine, so our show has a premise now. Huzzah!

After a series of actually pretty good gags, the kids end up in France, 1848 to meet with Frédéric Bastiat, who I was not previously aware of but who appears to be one of the founding figures of modern libertarian ideology.

Apparently American politics these days are all your fault you french son of a gun. Also wow they drew your hand wrong in this frame.

And he describes what I was going to describe about the libertarian moral foundations of this show.

“My book is about the idea that laws should protect our God-given rights or ‘Natural rights’. Having rights means there are some things you can do, and nobody is allowed to stop you!”

Specifically, rights to life, to liberty (Meaning the right to do what we want so long as it doesn’t take away another person’s rights) and to own property.

And to be clear, and this is explained later in the episode, these are very negative rights. The role of the government is not to ensure that you have any specific amount of property, liberty or life. Rather, you have to gather as much as you are able by your own lights, and the government’s sole role is to prevent other people from taking whatever property you have or abrogating your liberties or killing you.

Does that mean that taxation for the public good is the same as theft?

You betcha, which is what we learn in the next part of the show. A part which is largely so boring that I can't be bothered to screencap it.

The time machine runs out of “Knowledge Juice” and strands them in an Old West Town. Knowledge Juice is the fuel for the time machine, it’s a green goo that goes down when they travel through time, and up when they explain that they’ve learned something. And it’s a plot device that I think they eventually get rid of just because it gets kind of redundant.

Actually I’ll just sort of go over the formula of the show. 

The kids have some more or less relatable real world problem;

Grandma takes them back in time to meet a historical figure who tells them about some libertarian principle;

On the way back the time machine runs out of knowledge juice in some fantastical situation;

The kids solve the situation using their new libertarian knowledge;

They refill the knowledge juice reserves by explaining what they learned;

They then go back home and use what they learned to solve their ordinary kid problem.

Just from a story structure perspective the part where they refill the knowledge juice is extremely redundant; It would be more elegant to just have them explain the lesson to the other kids when they solve their problem at the end of the episode. I think eventually they figured that out.

Arguably, if you really wanted to condense things you’d have the kids go on a historical adventure with the historical figure, then come back to the present and explain what they learned and apply it to their current situation, but the reason they have sections 3 and 4 is because those are usually where the crazy cartoon stuff comes in, they end up in some alternate fantasy dimension or shrunk down and fighting a worm war, or something fun like that.

Except for this pilot episode, where parts 3-5 just take place in a generic old west town. Not really starting with a bang honestly.

Basically, the Sheriff fights off two cattle rustling bandits, who then return in the guise of tax men, taking cows away from an innocent rancher to use for business subsidies and charity, which isn’t fair because the law is supposed to protect her property, and anyway the rancher gives cows to charity sometimes already.

Since taxation is theft, the kids lobby to get the laws changed, and after an amusing title card that says,

The whole town has voted to repeal the taxes and they capture the rustlers, huzzah!

Anyway, the Tuttle Twins go back home, and call an emergency meeting of the Cul-de-sac kids club to hold a vote to repeal the law that allows the President to have as much lemonade as she wants. Of course, the vote goes their way…

Which is when Karinne reveals her trump card, which is that the club by-laws allow the President a unilateral veto over any proposed amendments to the club rules.

Furthermore, she points out that the Kids Club is not a government organization, but a private one which is simply a contractual relationship that the twins entered freely. And since the government’s job is to enforce contracts and protect private property, the twins will be arrested if they try to violate the contract by taking any of Karinne’s honestly earned lemonade.

Yeah kids, that’s right. Have grandma teleport you back to talk to Murray Rothbard, he’ll explain it to you.

Okay okay I made all that up. I'll stop arguing politics with a children's cartoon.

They successfully overturn the rule but give everybody in the club a glass of lemonade on the house anyway to show there’s no hard feelings.

So, this episode is not that out there. Something I can’t get across in summary is that there are a lot of classic cartoon gags, and a lot of them land. I’ve watched a few episodes of this show now and smiled at a lot of gags and laughed out loud once or twice. As much as I don’t agree with a lot of the ideology behind it it’s not something that was tossed out there.

The animation quality of any given shot varies quite a lot, but there is some attention to the animation, visual gags and comedy timing as well as some funny writing. This isn’t a half-assed scam or complete amateur nonsense, this is clearly made by people who are trying to make something genuinely good outside of its propaganda purpose.

That said, I obviously have some issues with the show.

Honestly going in I thought my biggest problem with this show would be ideological disagreement. And don’t get me wrong, there’s some stuff in this show that I strongly disagree with, but there are quite a few episodes with perfectly fine messages. There’s an episode where they get into a prank war at science camp and eventually it starts wrecking the science projects so Ghandi teaches them about de-escalation. Rosa Parks talks about civil disobedience and how sometimes you should disobey unjust laws, but you should always be aware of the consequences beforehand and think carefully about how and when you should do it. There’s an episode where they talk about respecting different religious traditions and how the government shouldn’t mandate or prevent any religion.

I agree with all of that, even if some of that is something that kids won’t really get to put into practice much.

My big problem is that even though there are gags in the historical parts, this show suffers a problem that a lot of educational shows do, which is that it feels like it stops dead to lecture you about something and you have to just sit through that until the fun bits start up again. The historical figures tend to be heavily simplified in a way that some people might object to, but I think the bigger issue is that this simplification makes their stories less compelling.

You’re not so much living through a recreation of the exciting things the historical figures did so much as listening to them talk about what they did. It’s a real “tell, don’t show” approach that makes about a third of every episode really kind of dull unless it’s one of the episodes where what they’re telling you is batshit crazy.

So if you’re going to watch it for camp value, I really don’t recommend starting with the first episode or trying to watch it in order, I’d just scan the episode summaries and watch one that sounds crazy to you. There are at least two that try to sell Bitcoin to children. There’s a few genuinely bananas episodes and ideas to gawk at if you’re into that kind of thing like I am, but there’s a lot of fairly bland episodes.

And talking about how viewers will view the show…

I have had to accept in my heart that I have no idea who this show is made for.

It has a lot of parallels to American Christian pop culture programs, but like, okay, so right-wing American Christians have built this entire parallel media ecosystem because they’re paranoid that Hollywood secularists are going to corrupt their kids with secularism and paganism. I knew a guy once who said when he was a kid his parents made him stop watching Tiny Tunes because they saw one of the characters meditating, but that’s okay, he could still watch McGee and Me.

Now, I don’t agree with that kind of strict parental thought control, it is at least internally consistent. A lot of parts of the Bible are about devout Godly people being corrupted by worldly concerns or religious apostasy, going at least back to the worship of the Golden Calf in Exodus. And the right wing Christians who are worried about media corruption think any deviation from their theology is a threat to a person’s immortal soul.

So the impulse to shield your child from any media that even slightly questions or contradicts your own views isn’t good, but at least it’s theologically consistent and in keeping with the Bible.

Meanwhile, if you find yourself saying, “As a staunch libertarian and tireless advocate for personal freedom, I believe in strictly controlling what my children are allowed to watch or think.” Like…

You know come on and think for a second about what you’ve just said.

The kind of paranoia about controlling your children’s worldview that would make someone want to watch this really doesn’t seem to me to be in keeping with, well, uh, the actual values espoused in the show.

So I kind of don’t know how to feel about it. Personally, I would never expose a child to this on purpose unless they were old enough to ask some very critical questions about what they were hearing.

On the other hand, when I imagine the kind of person who is going to show this to their kids… I kind of almost wonder if most of the other stuff those kids are seeing is a lot worse. I can kind of imagine a very earnest child taking this stuff seriously enough to start questioning some controlling parent or religious authority.

So I really just don’t know. If anybody has any insight into the culture of the people who watch this kind of thing, I’d be really curious.