#bc someone managed to spill beer over the lower half of my face and my chest which was ew. and someone else fucking Drenched my arm

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

shout out to the people at the concert that saw my small and easy-to-knock-over ass at the (edge of the) mosh pit and kinda watched out for me by shoving away the two or three people that danced ruthlessly away from me before they could knock me over they are literally the best

[trouvelle]

PB & (Alcoholic) Punch

i d e k  let me start by apologizing ;-; I have no idea what made me do this bc it just wrote itself in the middle of the night. For any grammatical and punctuation errors, pls add them to my growing list of apologies! Me is sorry if you don’t like it and hate it TuT

Fandom: DCMK Pairing: mostly Heiji/Kazuha and Kaito/Aoko, side Shinichi/Ran and Makoto/Sonoko Rating: NC-17 Genre/Tags: Comedy, Crack, College!AU Warnings: crack!fic, mild sexual content Summary: Sonoko throws a party and when a Truth-or-Dare game takes off, certain things comes into light. (a.k.a Kaito and Aoko finally kiss and Kazuha finds out about Heiji’s daddy kink)

•

“Kuroba is so drunk,” Heiji slurs, pointing towards the other side of the room where Kaito currently has his arms stretched across the window, “Look at him.”

“I know, right?” Shinichi leans back against the wall, and takes a swig from his beer bottle, lazily waving his hand over at another corner of the house. “Look at those two. No, not the dudes in tank tops, there—those two with the bleached hair by the kitchen island. Don’t they know what peanut butter is for?”

“I can think of thirty different ways to use that jar of peanut butter, and none of them involve sandwiches.”

“Wait, Hattori, look at that guy hugging the window. I’m so glad we’re not friends with these weirdos here. ”

“How drunk are you, Kudo? He is our friend. That’s Kuroba, you idiot. Now look at those two over there.”

“That’s us in a mirror, you idiot.”

“Oh yeah.”

Makoto picks his way through the crowd of drunken fools, cringing every time he accidentally steps on some trash or a limb. Wait—was that the crunch from some spilled food on the floor that he stepped on or was it someone’s body part? “This party is such a bad idea,” he mutters. He probably wouldn’t have been here if it’s not his girlfriend who’s hosting the party.

Shinichi and Heiji snicker at his dismay.

Making his way to stand beside them, Kaito sighs into his red cup, already looking like the world’s ended thrice over. “This cruel, sad existence of mine,” he sighs, for the thirty-ninth time, and he downs the cup, already reaching for another on the table he’s conveniently placed himself next to. 

“You’re one of the saddest drunk people I’ve ever met,” comments Makoto mildly. Kaito doesn’t even react, he just sighs again. He’s at the point where it hurts to not let his pent-up feelings out. If anyone wants to make fun of him, so be it.

“Yeah. What’s up your ass?” Shinichi slurs.

“I think I like Aoko,” utters Kaito dolefully, staring out into the crowd, where Kazuha and Ran are teamed up against the horrendously inebriated Sonoko and Aoko for a beer pong challenge, to a group of cheering spectators. “Since you guys said that it’s troublesome to fall in love with girls you grow up with, I have come to the conclusion that I will live my life in pain and sorrow and never again see the light of day as I bury myself in a cave of my own despair.”

Heiji blinks. “God, that is depressing. Let’s get out of here.”

As they move through the crowd, ignoring Kaito’s sighs, and the agonized shrieks that come from a few unfortunate people who they shoved out of their way, a person pops up in front of them suddenly, and Makoto nearly trips over himself in surprise. No more people-stepping for him. “Gah!”

“Holy shit,” says Shinichi, eyes wide, clutching at his chest, “What are you doing here?”

Shiho is bouncing on her heels, smiling wider than a kid at a candy store. “Sonoko dragged me here, duh!” she says, and her voice is high and squeaky. This is rather alarming. “Did you know that there is a secret stash of Red Bull in the pantry? She told me I can make a punch with it. A lot of people like it. I also dropped a bottle of Absolut in there. Do you guys want some? Wait here.”

And she slips away, giggling, leaving the four of them standing in profound silence.

“I’m scarred for life,” says Kaito.

“Never drinking again,” says Shinichi, but then he looks down at his half-full bottle, and he raises it to them, “Cheers!”

“Hey boys!” Sonoko calls out to them in a sing-songy voice, Makoto immediately zig-zags across the room to her side, “Wanna play Truth or Dare with us?”

“Sign us up!” shouts Heiji, and he drags Shinichi and Kaito, who’s still downing his last bits.

The girls and some others are seated in a circle, already playing, and Aoko says, “Truth,” voice cracking due to her skyrocketing anxiety at the anticipation.

“Who here, do you really want to get into bed with?” asks Sonoko cheekily, ignoring the obvious fact that probably, literally, everyone else already knows her answer. Aoko turns even redder, if it’s even possible. “Come on, answer!”

“Can I just switch to dare, please?” begs Aoko under her breath, looking at everyone but at a certain boy.

Sonoko is not giving up. People don’t call her Cupid-sama for no reason. “I dare you to kiss Kuroba-kun!” She says gleefully. Maybe too much glee. Kaito’s eyebrows flew mile-high to the ceiling.

“Well, here goes.” Despite the fact that she’s stuttering, she makes her way to Kaito and plants a shy kiss on Kaito’s mouth, taking him aback. The rest of the room whoop extremely loudly around them.

Kaito, his head spinning and his entire body going red, still reeling from the kiss, goes, “... Aoko?”

She offers him a shy smile and takes the empty space next to him before dropping her voice an octave lower so only he can hear her, “Later,” she promises. “We have to make the best of this game right now.”

“Okay, Kazuha!” Aoko’s eyes glint, and Kazuha gulps, thinking back on all that she’s ever done to Aoko, and what kind of revenge might be swirling around in her head right now. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” says Kazuha, because she can do anything that anyone dares her to, because she is a fierce, independent woman. When Kaito leans down to whisper something to Aoko, her confidence wavers. But nevertheless, she has made up her mind. “What do you have for me, Aoko-chan?”

“I dare you to call Hattori-kun ‘daddy’ for the rest of the night,” says Aoko, and the rest goes ‘uuuuuh oooooh~’ in the most annoying, drunken voices possible.

Kazuha blinks. This is the easiest dare that anyone has had, as of tonight. There’s literally no harm that can come out of this. “Done!” But then when she turns to Heiji, she sees that his eyes are wide, and still staring at Aoko and Kaito. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” stutters Heiji, but he’s already glancing nervously between Kazuha’s confused face, and Aoko’s girlish grin and Kaito’s evil eye, tries to distract himself by averting his gaze to Shiho, who just reemerged from the kitchen.

She is walking her way to the group, juggling four cups, and accidentally knocking over a random guest who falls over Sonoko’s beautiful leather couch. 

“Is that her special punch?” Ran observes slowly, who’s been sitting on Shinichi’s lap. 

“Don’t drink her punch,” comes a feeble voice from behind the sofa, who sounds suspiciously like Saguru.

“So, daddy,” tries Kazuha casually, and Heiji freezes in place. “Are you okay? You look a bit flushed, daddy.”

“I’m fine.” Heiji tugs at his t-shirt, and fans at himself. “I need to… go get some fresh air. Or something.”

Kazuha watches in confusion as he dashes away, and she follows, not even noticing the drunken cackle that escapes Kaito’s throat. For a guy who’s a sad, lovesick drunk not half an hour earlier, Kaito sure recovers really fast. Thank Aoko for that.

Kazuha manages to find Heiji pretty easily. She speeds up her pace and catches him just as he is about to close the bathroom door. He nearly jumps, spinning around to face her. “Are you okay? You don’t usually—Oh my God, Heiji! When did that happen?”

Heiji has pitched a rather big tent, clearly visible through the line of his jeans.

“Uh,” says Heiji, and he looks flustered. “Just now?”

“What do you mean just now? We barely even touched each other tonight! We were only playing—“ Kazuha stops herself there, and a flashback of the game runs through her mind. “Oh. I see.” Her lips curl up into a sneaky grin, and she adds for a good measure, “Daddy~”

Heiji quickly pulls her in and locks the door.

“Do you like it when I call you that?” She takes a few steps forward, and Heiji exhales, not taking his gaze away from hers. 

“Christ,” whispers Heiji, just as Kazuha’s fingers trail lightly up the expanse of skin under his t-shirt.

“Come on, daddy,” She whispers in return, snaking a hand around his neck to pull his head down, “I’m all yours, always.”

She can see something in Heiji’s eyes just break, and then he crashes their mouths together in a hot, searing kiss, backing her up against the nearest flat surface, knocking down some things in the process. He kisses like he’s in control, and she lets him. 

Resistance is futile, Heiji realizes, when it comes to Kazuha.

[lxveille]

posture

mingyu x reader

word count: ~ 1950 warnings: alcohol, profanity, mild jealousy a/n: tall!reader, bc one can only read about members towering over mcs so many times. and also vee encouraged me. blame her.

You lean into the bar to order another drink. For a moment, you consider adding a shot on top of it. It only takes another glance out to the dance floor for you to think fuck it, and tack a tequila to end of your order before telling him the name of your open tab.

With a nod from the bartender, you stand back up straight and tap your nails against the bartop. The mood you’re in is hardly the one you’d intended to have when you were getting ready to go out tonight. Only half an hour ago, even, things had still felt as good when you’d first headed out.

The tequila shows up in front of your first, and you take it with a half-hearted cheers directed towards one of the strangers on bar stools you’d squeezed yourself in between. With the empty glass back the glossy wood of the bartop, you turn to look back out at the crowd. Looking out over the heads in the crowd, it’s easy enough for you to spot where the friends you came with are. Most of them are still gathered around the floor-side table the lot of you had claimed upon coming in. Except, of course, for Mingyu, who is still tucked into the middle of the dance floor with one hand on the hip of the girl he’s flirting with. He’s practically doubled over in order to talk into her ear over the loud music. You can’t help but roll your eyes and wish you’d doubled down on tequila.

There’s no reason for you to be jealous. Mingyu is your friend. Your funny, kind, handsome friend you have a huge, blistering crush on. And one of the rare guys in your social circle you consider to be in your dateable height range. But just your friend, all the same. So what if you were hoping the right song would come on tonight for you to make a move on him tonight? So what if you’d had intentionally chosen a dress he’d complimented once before?

“--- for those?”

“Huh?” You manage to make it sound like a curse word as you turn your head towards the voice. It’s the guy you’d vaguely directed your tequila at before downing it. He points towards the empty shot glass and the fresh cocktail in front of you and leans in towards you to repeat himself.

“Did you already pay for those?”

You look him over before rolling your eyes. “Yeah, they’re on my tab.”

“Maybe I can buy the next round?” he suggests. Some part of you says you could give this guy a chance; either to get your mind off how Mingyu’s probably only a line away from making out with that girl or to hope he’ll look over and see. But from the way you already stand more than a head over the stranger and how comfortably his legs dangle over the floor from his perch on the stool, you suspect he’d take back the offer as soon as he stood up.

“I’m good,” you shout over the music, and grab your glass to head back over to your friends. Making your way through the crowd, you hold your drink up over the swaying shoulders and heads of those already dancing and remind yourself not to look the direction you last saw Mingyu in.

It comes as a surprise, then, when you get back to the table and find Mingyu back with his own beer and seemingly deep in conversation with Soonyoung again. As if he hadn’t been out on the dance floor at all. You take a hefty sip out of your glass.

“I thought you were going to the bathroom?” Minkyung asks once she spots that you’ve returned. She’s halfway through her own drink, plastic straw stained by her lipstick and a few guys at the table over from you gawking obviously at her.

“I did,” you answer, “And then I got more to drink.” She sends a knowing glance towards Mingyu and then looks back at you with a sympathetic smile.

“Clearly, it didn’t work out for him,” she says, leaning into your shoulder, “You could still shoot your shot.”

You sigh and tilt your head to rest on top of hers. “What’s the point? He’s clearly into tiny girls.”

“Do you think his back ever hurts from bending down to their level?” Minkyung asks with feigned sincerity. It succeeds in drawing a laugh out of you, nearly risking spilling part of your drink when you sway away from her. She gives you a grin, though there’s a tinge of embarrassment on her face at her own words.  Soonyoung turns around at the sound of your laughter cutting over the booming bass.

“What’s funny?” he asks, with the kind of eager curiosity for everything that comes entirely too quickly to him after only one drink.

It must be the tequila that motivates you to answer, “We’re just pondering whether or not Mingyu’s gonna give himself a permanent backache with the girls he hits on.” Soonyoung blinks, lips parting around a question he can’t quite seem to form. Behind him, Mingyu’s attention seems to have perked up -- though with enough confusion on his face for you to suspect he’d only just made out his name.

He takes the few steps needed to put himself in talking range with you and asks, “What?”

As if it took him saying that one word for you to even realize what you’ve said, you look over to Minkyung with mild panic. She shrugs and waves her free hand towards the two guys in a way that seems to say this is on you. Sure enough, Soonyoung is already repeating back your statement to Mingyu.

His brows crinkle and he looks quickly between you and Minkyung before apparently deciding to settle upon you as the main culprit.

“What’s that supposed to even mean?” Mingyu questions.

You bring your glass up to your lips, like the right answer could be found in liquor. Or least as a stall tactic.

“Did Soonyoung hear you right?” he asks instead of repeating himself, centering himself in front of you as Minkyung tries to make grabbing Soonyoung’s wrist and dragging him away from the two of you something subtle.

“Depends. What’d Soonyoung say?” You tap your nails against the side of your cup, keeping your drink only a few inches away from your mouth as if it were shield.

Mingyu hesitates, unsure if you’re playing oblivious or genuinely unsure. “Something about me fucking up my back…?” he decides to give into it either way.

Something in hearing him say it makes you smile, nearly giggling, in spite of what might be left of your better judgement. “Well, I mean, it’s not wrong with the way you have to slouch over for some girls.”

“Since when do you care about my spine’s health?”

There’s something purely strange with the universe that Kim Mingyu is asking you that at half past midnight in the middle of a bar blasting dance songs. And if the look on his face is any sign, he’s just as aware of that fact as you. Your mind traces back your earlier thoughts of just how little this night was playing out as you’d hoped.

“I’m just saying, like… It’d be better for your posture to pick on somebody your own size,” you find yourself saying.

Mingyu smiles -- possibly even chuckles, but it’s difficult to tell over the music. “People say that about fighting people, you know.” It’s a fair point, you know. It’s also, you decide, entirely the alcohol’s fault that you’d used that expression to begin with. Or least the alcohol’s fault that you’re saying any of this to him at all. Though if his tone is anything to go off of, at least Mingyu isn’t as annoyed by your commentary as you’d first feared he’d be.

You shrug one shoulder and take another drink from your glass before setting it down on the table behind you. “Whatever. You get the point.” With any luck, it sounds disinterested rather than bitter.

He looks skeptical. And then, he turns to look over his shoulder at the crowd on the dance floor. His eyes come back to yours, and he gives a slight shrug that feels like reflection of your own facade of indifference. “It’s not like there’s always a whole lot of options for girls I’m not a giant to, you know.”

Frustration threatens to bubble over inside you and have you saying something entirely too obvious. (Something perhaps along the lines of ‘I, you absolute fool, am right fucking here’). The booze has you settling for doing something dumb and even more obvious.

You take a single step up to him and curl your fingers into the front of his shirt and tug him close enough to kiss. There’s a small sound of surprise from him in that split second between your hand on him and your lips meeting his. Or perhaps it was the start of a word that you’d cut off in your sheer determination to get him to recognize you as a goddamn option.

Before anxiety or regret can creep up on you, Mingyu’s hand finds its way to your waist. You lean into him a little more, your grip loosening on him in favor of gliding up to the back of his neck. He’s warm, with the taste of his beer filtering into the kiss as he pushes back closer to you. There’s a sweetness to it all the same -- though perhaps it was only lingering sugar from the rim on your drink.

You don’t fully register your moving feet until your back hits the edge of the table. For a moment, nothing could make you break away from him. But then there’s the unmistakable feeling of something wet seeping through the fabric of your dress. You one hand on Mingyu’s shoulder as you pull away from him and look back at the table. Sure enough, your drink has been knocked over along with someone else’s.

“Shit,” you blurt out, and turn to set the glasses upright and scan the table for napkins. Mingyu’s fingers squeeze at your hip as he peeks over your shoulder to see just what had interrupted the two of you.

“That’s your fault,” he declares suddenly. You turn your head sharply to give him a look of disbelief. He’s smiling. A self-satisfied, delighted smile that has you wanting to forget what he’d said and kiss him all over again. He moves closer to your ear and adds a little lower, “I’ll take care of it if you go close out your tab.”

It only gives you all the more reason to give him an incredulous look. He raises a brow at you, and his expression shifts to something better called a smirk. You give him one good look over before letting yourself smile and nod once. “We’ll get back to the whole fault thing, though,” you claim, pointing an accusatory finger his way.

Mingyu moves the hand on your waist up to catch your lifted hand, and uses it to pull you in for a second, briefer kiss. “Hurry up,” he murmurs to you as he breaks it off. It’s tempting to fire some stubborn remark back at him, but the look in his eyes makes you more inclined to go ahead with his plan of getting out her sooner rather than later.

This isn’t exactly how you planned this night on going. But at this point, you’re not about to wish it went any differently. Except, perhaps, for wishing you’d worked up the nerve to go ahead and grab him by the collar a little earlier.