#more like skitters but y'know

[randompony03]

I MADE ANOTHER BOY

Hello pretty sir

[slippinninque]

🫣🍑Private Dancer🍑🫣

Or: You discover another half to the secret you thought you were keeping

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, cursing, use of the n-word, mentions of smoking/weed, P-in-V, mentions of insecurity, long fic

Truth was, you were a secret shaker.

A tentative twerker. An apprehensive ass-thrower. Your waist whined when being perceived directly and not in a good way. Not only did you decline to throw ass in public, you will also turn away any offers to catch it.

You learned chorography to your favorite sounds, bounced around your living room as you folded clothes. Recorded dance challenges and deleted them a few hours later. You were your very own Stallion behind closed doors.

When you were alone, though...

It took only a handful of awkward encounters and an asshole ex-boyfriend suggesting you 'stand to the side' for you to be determined to find your rhythm.

Looking up tips online and went to any beginner's classes you could find in the area. Ballroom, salsa, the pole--it all helped you understand your body outside of what it looked like. It was about what you trained it to do, what you wanted it to do.

Investing in a really good floor length mirror was the last puzzle piece you needed to really find your beat. From there on, you and the mirror were lovers.

Only your small circle of friends knew. That was thanks to enough years of trust and tequila, leading to wild nights at house parties with the radio cranked high.

You eventually learned that it was nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like it kept you away from fun or being included in the antics. If you went out with the ladies, you hyped them and kept a cute lil' two step. You held the title of Camerawoman with pride and your background cackles were famous in the group chat.

The booty wouldn't boogie with anyone else around and it's been that way for years.

It was your own little secret. No one had to know everything and you babbled enough as it was. If anyone cared to stare hard enough to a deserted, dark corner of the house--then maybe they could catch a glimpse.

The sway-snap of your hips, falling beautifully with every beat that you heard. How your hair gleamed, the way your smile swelled with the change of the songs.

Your entire body sang a song.

At least, that's what Fontaine thought when he first spotted you.

Of course you never knew he saw you. Even after the reciprocated confessions and hot-n-heavy honeymoon phase, you thought you went unseen.

Fontaine took your secret for his own, delighting in your shadow shows on the rare occasions you came out to play.

Fontaine could wait and if you had to feel alone to feel secure, then so be it. He used his admiration and desire to touch you, to be a proper witness.

Just being near you was more then enough, it would have been ungrateful to be so greedy.

------

You screamed when you saw him standing there.

The earbuds went off into the wilds of the kitchen, one skittering beneath the fridge.

Fontaine's eyes were popped wide but didn't seem remorseful for scaring your soul to the heavens.

"I thought you heard me when I came in." Fontaine hung up his keys before going in search of your earbuds. You watched after him, mortified.

You were just really into organizing the lower pantry. Lost in shaking your ass with one hand braced on the red potatoes and the other searching for the brown potatoes to put them back in their proper spot.

When you turned to grab the few 'taters that eacaped, you saw your man standing a few feet away from you with his arms crossed and head tilted.

How long has he been here?

Oh god, you have never danced for him. You have never danced in front of him--you weren't even serious. There wasn't a problem with you shimmying to the beat in his lap at a function or waving from your hips up while riding in the car to some jams.

This was different.

"Hey, hey--whatcha curling up for? C'mon now, I already know you can move."

"It-- that, um, I-I'm not that good, so, y'know..."

Fontaine pocketed your traumatized earbuds and kissed your hands until you inched them away enough for him to see your worried gaze. He tutted quietly, taking your hands into his and kissing your knuckles.

"What matters to me is what makes you feel good, baby." His voice rolled into a purr as he continued, "Lucky me that you look so fine when you do."

You wriggled as your shyness battled against the excitement of having Fontaine looking at you the way he was.

"So I don't look.... awkward? Do I have enough stuff to make it look good?"

"Wasn't nothing awkward 'bout how you were throwin' that, trust me."

Fontaine's hands went down and grabbed two handfuls of your ass. His palms were warm and wide as he kneaded, bringing you even closer to him as you went to your tiptoes. He hooked his chin over your shoulder with a happy little him, distracted by you but only for only a moment more.

"Hold up, whatchu mean by 'enough stuff' ?"

You shrugged and decided not to answer. The truth of past insecurities felt redundant and you rather liked the way Fontaine was making you feel at the moment.

Fontaine grunted, giving you another squeeze before pulling back a bit to look into you square in the eyes.

"Look here-- I'm in love with all this right here, so I'm rockin' with you regardless of what you can make it do. Don't matter if you think you ain't got enough, shit, it's enough fo', me. Understand?"

His words worked out the few kinks in your heart, aches you grown used to and ignored when they flared. You nodded more confidently and only then did Fontaine lighten his hold on you, nodding back.

No telling how long Fontaine was standing there and if you never turned around-- you would have been none the wiser. How many times has he been there? Letting you have yourself, taking only a moment for himself as he had that smile on his face.

It was the same smile he had when he took away the shea butter to rub you down himself. Or similar to the smirk on his face when following after you to the bedroom after you talked a bit too much shit.

Your shoulders dropped as you fully relaxed into his hold. The burning embarrassment in your stomach churned into smooth, seamless and leaving you suddenly eager.

"So, tell me what a nigga gotta do to get a private dance from yo' pretty self?"

His hands helped themselves to another handful, this time spreading to touch between your legs. There was promise in his eyes and you knew you only needed to say yes.

You twist away from him enough to pluck your phone from the counter, sliding through a few songs before settling on something with drums and bass. The speakers pulsed and you began backing Fontaine out of the kitchen and into the living room.

He let you push him to sit in the recliner and he made an appreciative sound at the way you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It evolved, going deeper until you pulled away with a protesting noise from Fontaine.

"That's the only touching you gonna get from me right now."

"Oh, word?"

"You're going to distract me enough as it is." You said, stepping away from him and stretching your arms over your head.

"Bold as hell to call me a distraction." Fontaine's brows rose as he leaned back to make himself comfortable, "Lookin' at me with them eyes..."

His eyes hooked onto your hips. You stretched, teasingly bending over and holding onto your ankles as you gave a cute lil' shake, looking over your shoulder coyly .

"What can I use to look if it ain't my eyes?" You asked, "How am I supposed to see you?"

"Don't worry 'bout what you see back here, act like a nigga ain't even here."

"Oh, that's impossible now. You still make me feel so shy..."

Fontaine snorted and your gave a giddy smile in return.

What you wore was actually perfect. Tiny shorts and cami, perfect for when you were bounding around to clean house. Just what you needed for you to do a little Bend n' Snap for your man.

The music changed and you looked over at him in surprise, he held your phone but watched you with a mischief. Reaching for the little, polka dotted stash jar you left on the coffee table to pull out a blunt to wag at you.

"Go on, show me what you got fo' me."

Waiting until he fired up, you sauntered closer and tied up the front of your already teeny tank. Fontaine's eyes honed in to your nipples, distracted as he took a drag. When his fingers crooked, you leaned in enough and pursed your lips.

Fontaine blew a strong stream that you breathed in and held. You held as long as you could before releasing the smoke a final time into the air.

Fontaine's blunts were no-nonsense, where he still rolled with leaves rather than the papers you preferred. It felt like a straight shot to the head, the smoke lifting all the chatter in your mind to leave you swirling in electric eagerness.

Without further ado, you showed him what you could do.

Your hands braced on your knees, clasped above your head, went down to touch your toes. You rolled your stomach and snapped your hips mouthing the words to Fontaine as you fully felt yourself. You extended your arms and tried to be as dramatically sexy as possible. Touching all of Fontaine's favorite places yourself, pushing up your breast and skimming your hand between your legs for him to see.

Fontaine was a chaotic DJ as he flipped through your playlist. He went from instrumentals filled with nothing but baselines and adlibs, to Glorilla to Megan Thee Stallion to Trina. Whistling at every peek of cheek and nip, calling out to see the 'pretty lady' when you coyly fanned your legs at him from the floor.

When you got down on your hands and knees, you felt a smack against your cheeks hard enough to snap your illusion. You leaned onto your forearms, ass up in the air, and broke into laughter as more bills rained down. It was like a confetti canon was let off or someone hit the Golden Button for you.

"That felt personal." You said over your shoulder at where Fontaine sent another fan of bills into the air, "You tryin' to tell me something?"

"Yeah--to bring that ass over here so I can get my hands on you," Fontaine patted his thigh, "Thought this was gonna be a lap dance..."

"Private does not mean lap." You sniffed. Honestly, you weren't sure because you've never been to a strip club but with the way he was throwing bills--the living room was cosplaying as a VIP section at King of Diamonds.

You took your time in coming closer, wondering if you could skip on singles before Fontaine snatched you right up when you were close enough.

"This is too much! When did you even have time to take out all these damn dollars?"

"I been waiting on this, baby. Shit, I woulda threw gold if it ain't' hurt..."

You laughed and looked around at the singles carpeting your floor in disbelief, it's like you had a new rug installed! There were dollars all overt the coffee table and even some fluttered over to coat the entertainment center. Was there a dollar up in the light fixture? Was that a fire hazard?

Fontaine's teeth nipped at your earlobe, turning your next remark into soft moan. His hand ran up to cup your neck, breathing you in with a hungry hum.

His voice was all smoke and honey, "This is all well an' good, but I think I'm feeling a certain type of way..."

"Is it the horny way?"

Your cheekiness got you mean little pinch to your sensitive nipples. Jolting only pushed you closer to his greedy hands. It was his turn to touch. He plucked and twisted your nipples, making you mewl and melt into his touch. You ground down into his lap where you felt he needed you most, making him sigh into your ear.

"Gonna be the death of me, ain't ya?" Fontaine husked, "Here lies 'Taine, bust so hard he went on to glory. He leaves everything to his pretty-booty havin' lady."

"What if I promise to shake somethin' on your grave, would that be better--no biting!"

Fontaine growled something into the mouthful of shoulder he had, shaking his head gently and making you squeal and scrunch up to try and escape.

Still warm from being in the spotlight of Fontaine's attention and the pulsing music, your head swam with delight. It felt like victory. You turned and kissed at the side of his face before your lips met.

When your grinding became more insistent, Fontaine leaned back with his lip caught between his teeth.

Allowing yourself to be admired and seen was like nothing else. Fontaine has always shown nothing but devotion to you but you still felt like he was...just being nice. You were holding yourself back from assumed disappointment but this whole time he's been waiting on you.

Talk about blocking your blessings...

"That's what I'm talkin' about. Show me how you feel."

You looked over you shoulder, holding his hands against your breast as you rode in his lap. Fontaine hissed, one of his hands quickly escaped to clasp around your hips to grind up into you.

Leaning forward enough on your hands, your delicates went directly in his face as you tugged at his pant leg pointedly. Fontaine ignored your impatience and ran a hand over you, from between your shoulders down to the backs of your thighs.

You could hear him popping the button on his jeans and the rattle of his belt.

"How bad you want it, pretty?"

"Bad, real bad."

"'Do anything fo' it' bad?"

" 'Let you do anything to me' bad."

It happened fast after that, Fontaine righted you in his lap enough for him to press into your pussy. The stretch dropped your mouth open and Fontaine groaned at how wet you already were.

LOW started and you bounced to the beat, grinning dopily up at the ceiling at the feel of him hitting all your good spots. Your shorts provided a wonderful friction against your clit from how Fontaine shoved the fabric aside to let himself in.

It felt so naughty. To fuck on Fontaine like you were starved for him to the music rattling your walls. The thrill twisted with desire in your stomach, hurtling you faster and faster to your peek.

Suddenly more bills rained down and paired with Fontaine's laugh, more lust than amusement--it pushed you over the edge.

"Thta's it, I feel you, g'on and get yo' shit. Can't believe yo' pretty ass was shy..."

Fontaine took over. A bruising grip onto your hips, tipped you back into his chest as he thrust up into you in earnest.

"Puttin' that shit on me heavy, acting like you don't know what you do to me." Fontaine found a few singles that were being crumpled between you and pressed them to your dewy, lower back.

"Shieet, looks better than money. Wish you can see as much as yo' ass feel it, fuck." He gave your ass slap, you called out as you came. It felt like fire shot through you, leaving you reaching for any bit of him to clutch.

Between the music still going and Fontaine handling you so well, the sensations left you gasping. Legs burning and head filled with needy thoughts, you protested when Fontaine stopped your bouncing and maneuvered you until he slid free.

"Oh, show ain't over yet--you feel me?"

You did. Fontaine was heavy and hot where he tapped all over your ass, leaving kisses of wet spots. It filled you with a flash of pride or maybe even possessiveness. Craining your neck, you did you best to get a glimpse but Fontaine hand cupped your neck licked the shell of your ear.

"Yeah, that's you gettin' all over me. Tryna make me messy just how you like it, huh?"

He hissed when you writhed in his lap, ghost riding his dick until he gave you a little push to stand. Your mouth dropped open to whine but Fontaine turned you towards the middle of the room.

"Show me how you want it."

Fontaine held himself tight at the base, his lips lax enough for his gold to wink in the lamp light.

As gracefully as you could--you went down onto your knees before lying back to put your legs in the air. You rolled over in the blanket of dollars, wriggling down your shorts to one ankle until you could flick them away.

Fontaine grinned down at you, kneeling to slot his palm into the arch of your foot, his other hand stroking himself.

Fontaine moved your other thigh to the side around his hip, leaving you spread completely. You were still working, still giving him a show, but you couldn't bear to keep your hands off of him.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, eyes fixed to where his dick bumped against your mound.

"Prettiest thing touchin' soil and you think it ain't enough..."

"Hurry up, Mr. Lapdance--the show ends when the music does."

When you hand ran under his shirt, Fontaine tugged it over his head swiftly and much to your delight. The sight of his broad chest and delicious skin made you all the more impatient.

Fontaine's eyes flashed.

The image formed in your mind was electric. Pretending to be a little Stallion and running into a hungry handed, greedy eyed Fontaine in low strobe lights.

"You lucky we ain't meet like that. D'you wanna know what I would do if you showed out like that on a pole?

Not knowing just what he had in store for you as you led him to the privacy booths--intent on earning his attention.

When you licked your lips, Fontaine groaned softly, you smiled at him.

What's another little secret?

Pressing into your heat, Fontaine grumbled something about Home Depot.

"I did take a few classes, if you ever wanna see ahn--!"

Drunk on pleasure, you could only cry out as Fontaine chased his thoughts out loud. The change in position, with him looming above you muttering filthy promises--it was too much for you.

"Shouldn't have told me that, now I gotta put a stage in here somewhere in this bitch..."

"O-Oh fuck, 'Taine!"

He froze to watch your eyes roll close as you shook apart beneath him with a sob. Fontaine lowered himself to bracket you between his forearms to kiss you, swallowing your moans. His hips snapped, lost rhythm and then he was coming with satisfied growl.

That was it. You were dead. Your very soul leaked onto his thighs and the carpet below.

'Here lies me, twerked too close to the sun...'

Fontaine releases a heavy, satisfied hum into your ear as he finally collapsed onto you. It should have been stifling and your knew your legs would be useless for the next while, but all you could do was grin at the feel of the dollar bill stuck to his shoulder.

What a way to go....

------

When the playlist finally ended, the silence found you both covered in sweat and dollar bills. Fontaine rubbed a loc of your hair between his fingers and you rested your eyes--head on his shoulder. Your hand wandering aimlessly across his chest as you began to doze.

He tugged gently to get your attention, "Want you to do me a favor."

"Mn. If it involves moving, you gotta pay me."

Fontaine snorted and flicked away the bill stuck to the thigh you've strewn across him. You shrugged a shoulder with a lifted brow, you got me there.

He continued, "If you can help it...I'd like for you not to hide from me anymore."

The change in his tone had you searching for his gaze and of course it was already on you. Fontaine took your hand in his, turning yours until he held it in his open palm.

"I...okay. I can do that for you."

You weren't ready to talk about the past and trying to make sense of your complicated feelings of being perceived. Something told you that it wasn't the time, maybe it was you hiding again, but at least Fontaine took your words earnestly.

He kissed your hand once, twice before leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he went back to playing with your locs.

"Oouf you are terrible." You hid your face into his neck, "But once my legs come back online, you're in trouble."

"Good..and no more watchin' Baddies. Watching them girls fucks wit' your disposition," Fontaine reached for a handful of bills to sprinkle all over you, "You wanna be a Stallion? Lemme know and I'll give you a ride."

Fontaine patted your ass, "Can't threaten me with good troubles, baby."

-----------

ending notes: thank you so much for reading! It's a long one but the idea wouldn't leave me alone! Might need some tweaking and editing since it's another Before Work Drop lmao! Please tell me what you think and what other things I should try, don't be shy! Comment and reblog please! 💕🥰💜

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @cardierreh15 @mcondance @thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss@cocoeffects@wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached@thadelightfulone@hobiesmain@thickeeparker@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina

(Added a more after some slight revisions 🫣)

[powderblueblood]

🎵 + Steve or Eddie please :)

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ IN MY BED - AMY WINEHOUSE

yours is a familiar face, but that don't make your place safe or you're fucking both steve and eddie on a casual basis and they're kinda clingy and jealous like peanut and butter

an: OH SHE'S SMUTTY. is this on either of the playlists i've made for steve or eddie. technically no. did i just hear it on shuffle and get inspired to write about having a hawkins slut era. technically yes. but the best part is you asked for steve or eddie and you got both, anon!!

MINORS FUCK OFF - warnings: heavy smut from the get-go; unprotected p-in-v, allusions to cunnilingus and fellatio, public sex, semi-mean!reader, leaving steve with blue balls, forceful!eddie, some mild degradation (use of the word slut, etc), hope u enjoy and hope we can coerce them into a threesome some day. it would save reader so much time

word count: 3.6k

You can't keep playing with boys like that, y'know. Somebody's going to get hurt.

As long as that somebody isn't you, you're pretty far past the point of giving a fuck.

You had emerged from the painful chrysalis of Hawkins adolescence with a great rack and a huge fucking chip on your shoulder. So much time wasted, lingering in the limbo of awkwardness and timidity, not even with the credit of being humiliated by your peers. You were glossed over, completely unnoticed by the opposite sex (and even the same sex that you'd daringly fantasize about in the dark of night).

You spent so much time sitting with your hands stuck shyly between your legs that it was only right that King Steve Harrington is now pleadingly prying them apart.

"What time did you say you had to leave, again?" he says, voice strained against the shell of your ear. Steve's fingers are making dents in the softness of your inner thighs as he spreads your legs further and futher away from one another. You're sitting pretty on his kitchen table, a place you'd chosen on purpose because from there, you could flash him the bright blue of your panties under your short, short work skirt.

Work skirt was a loose term, but you found you made better tips at the Hideout when you dressed more scantily than you'd like. Something something clientele, something something dinner and a show.

Something your co-worker had said.

All you knew was whenever you showed up at Steve's dressed for a bar shift, it drove him crazy. It drew him right to you, moth to flame, fly to spider's web, turning him all desperate and whining and eager to please. Like a dog.

"Mmm," you hum, glancing at your watch, "'bout fifteen."

You loved driving Steve crazy. Thrived on it– and part of it was a private revenge fantasy. All those years gone by using him as shower nozzle masturbation material, and now you were the one he couldn't get enough of.

His nose teases at your lips as he continues to massage into your thighs. And you admit, he's good with his hands– deliberate pressure, making the wetness at your core spread.

"Call off. Say you're sick," and his right hand is pulling at the gusset of your panties. Your hips keen toward him, an automatic response, and he strokes a knuckle down the glistening slit of your lips.

"Sick how," you ask, not really desiring an answer, talking just to talk as you web your fingers into his hair. You've noticed that the only time he's not precious about it is when you're about to fuck. Then, you can muss up his hairdo all you want.

"I couuuld," he murmurs, "make you scream my name so loud--"

The middle and ring fingers on Steve's right hand sinks inside you, down to the knuckle. You swallow a little moan, but it strangles itself out anyway.

"--that they think you have laryngitis."

You skitter out a snort, despite the fact that he's stroking you real nice with his fingers. It's so silly; it's exactly the kind of thing you'd come to expect from Steve. You used to overhear Nancy Wheeler in the hallways being all, you're an idiot, Steve Harrington. Tone dripping in affection. And you got it now, you did.

"Come on," he says, tongue ghosting at your neck as the pad of a finger circles that drop of nerves between your legs, "Take the day." He swallows. "Stay with me."

But you weren't his fuckin' girlfriend.

To be completely straight, you'd been skirting around this thing for a while– the moony-eyed way Steve would look at you after he'd cum, the trapping you in the bedsheets with peppered kisses, the recreational sports games he'd keep inviting you to and you'd keep bailing on. You couldn't even remember if he played baseball or basketball. And you didn't... care.

"I just don't know why you work in that dump," Steve says, attempting to stick a little edge on that moment of softness. But his fingers had stopped moving inside you, which quite simply would not do.

"Because," you say, you with the hard edge, you with the steeliness he can't seem to get enough of, "some of us," your hand reaches down to clamp onto his, "don't have a choice what dumps we work in," and you begin to rut onto his hand, grinding into his palm. In order to get this show on the road, you add in one pretty little groan. "... your highness."

Your slickness makes an obscene squelch and Steve's jaw cocks open, his blown-out pupils meeting yours. "Fuckin'... shit. I'd pay to keep you here if you promised to do that all day."

And you know he'd love that, to make you a kept woman. But Hawkins rich isn't kept woman rich, and you've got bills to pay.

"That can be arranged," you whisper, biting at his finely sculpted jaw, "but if you wanna put your cock in me today, you better make it fast. Those beers ain’t gonna sling themselves."

“Yeah—yeah.” Steve fumbles, aiding you in pulling off your panties. You wrap them around his wrist for safekeeping, because this skirt is way too tiny to go commando in. Flash your ass at your co-worker and you’d never live it down.

Steve unbuckles and yanks his khakis down his thighs, a remarkably unsexy clothing choice on anyone else but him. You like him the most like this— pliable, willing to do whatever you say.

You hitch your knees up, bracing the heels of your tennis shoes against the edge of the table. Steve moves to hitch your skirt up, set his hands at ten and two on your hips, but his fingers travel upward to your shirt. It’s this threadbare Janis Joplin thing, another strategic choice. It’s tight enough that you needn’t bother with a bra and also tight enough that any passing wind chill makes your nipples stand to attention. It’s hot in here, so the way they strain against the material is all Steve’s doing.

“Take this off?” It’s a request. Sometimes you wish it’d be a demand. Anyway. You pull it over your head and the way he kneads at your tits makes up for it completely. His tongue, hot and strong and ready, laves over a nipple and you shiver.

“Steve, babe,” you whine, “tick tock.”

You reach down and grab his cock, sprung free from his boxers like a jailbreak, and guide it inside you.

His dick is long and lithe like the rest of him, with this perfectly bulbous tip that caresses that pretty spot, that one that makes you open-mouth moan into his shoulder, right on entrance.

Steve rocks his hips into yours, one of his big hands cupping at your jaw. “So nice, right?” he says, licking into your mouth.

“So fucking nice.” But now is not the time for one of Steve Harrington’s classic slow jams, a drawn-out fuckfest that would ordinarily leave you rosy and blissed out. Now, you need him—

“Harder,” you breathe, “fuck me harder. Faster, baby, please. I need— I have to get you off before I leave.”

Steve is a giver, but talk like that makes him feral. He'll rarely ever take control with you, rather wait for your permission to let him take control. Which is nice, you guess, consent and all that but it kind of snuffs the fire out for you sometimes. The process takes a little longer than it needs to.

But god, when he gets into a rhythm, there's no stopping him. He guides you (when he could have shoved you) back onto your elbows as his length drills in and out of you. He bears over you with that slyly muscular frame, face buried in your breasts, keeping up a relentless pace that almost, almost has your legs seizing, almost–

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Fuck!” and it’s too sharp a curse to be one of pleasure. Steve is lost in you entirely, so much so that you have to tug at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get his focused attention. “Stevie, I gotta go.”

“No–fuck, come on, I’m so close.” You’ve fucked Steve Harrington enough times to know that he’s nowhere near close, that he’s got a position or two left in him before knockout. Your square stare communicates this perfectly; but he doesn’t stop, his pace just slows. Achingly slows, the way he loves to do when you’re right at the apex of an orgasm and he wants to hear the extended version of your desperate pleading. “You can be late.”

“No, I can’t,” you grumble, palming around for your discarded shirt. “I’m opening. Drunks are--mmm--lining up around the block to see me.” And my goddamn co-opener is always late. “Down, boy.” 

“Fii-ii-iine,” he groans, voice cracking as his heartbeat slows in his chest. You can just about feel it thumping from here. He eases himself out of you, but doesn’t make any swift movements away from you. Pink lips, so pink that you’d once hornily remarked they were almost the same color as your pussy, pout as he stares up at you from beneath his bushy brows. God, he looks pathetic. 

He’s so fucking hot. 

You unwind your bright blue underwear from his wrist slowly. “You mad at me?”

“Little bit,” he murmurs, “Leaving someone with blue balls is like, a serious health hazard. You know that, don’t you?”

“Forgot you were pre-med, Steve.” Oh, that man is not pre-anything other than pre-cumming. 

“If you get back here and I don’t answer the door because I’m dead from unfulfilled horniness, you’ve only got yourself to blame.” 

“That is, assuming I’ll be back?” This little exercise in reminding Steve of the fluidity of your relationship earns you the most heartbreaking little scoff. You can’t help but hold his hand to your now-reclothed chest and peck a kiss to his lips. “Kidding. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“I’ll be thinking about finishing you off for my whole shift, if that helps,” you hum against his mouth, which is already hungrily looking for more of you. 

“How ‘bout I pick you up after?”

“Mmm, I don’t know.” Look, as much as you like Steve, and you do, you like him lots, you really need a night to recharge your social battery after the shift you’re about to have. 

Especially when your co-worker comes sneaking in the door a whole 15 minutes late. 

“Hey!” he whispers, making a whole pantomime of shiftily stepping inside, eyes darting around underneath his curly bangs, “Bev around?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s still on that cruise, Eddie.” 

“And thank fuck for that, am I right?!” A ringed hand comes down hard on the bartop, making your glass of off-brand cola rattle. Something inside you clenches as Eddie Munson beams down at you. “God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes.” 

You chuckle out a little mm-hmm! and return to the crossword book someone had abandoned here months ago. When it’s slow, you and Eddie try and fail to figure out the clues, which has lead to interspersed shittalking, which has led to flirting. Which has led to… other things. On the clock and off. 

The natural course of which a river flows. 

Speaking of wet things, you cross one leg over the other. You hadn’t, as it happened, stopped thinking about Steve’s absence between your thighs since you’d gunned your shitty car out of his building’s driveway. Though, the closer you got to The Hideout, the less that absence became about Steve and more became about… well, anyone. 

What? You’re a red-blooded American woman with a healthy sex drive. 

And you’ve seen how Eddie Munson handles the wheel of a car. Forceful. Relentless. Wild.

“Figured out where I know you from, by the way,” he says, snatching the bar towel from your shoulder and throwing it over his own. 

“Hey! Those things are in short supply, asshole, get your own.”

“Finders keepers,” Eddie smirks, “And– Spanish class, sophomore year.” 

Cringing falsely, you toss your hands up in surrender. “Ay papi. You got me.”

“You told me you were from Oregon, you little liar.” 

“And you believed me, right?” you shrug. “Not surprising that you didn’t clock me right away. I was kind of unremarkable.”

Eddie squidges past you in the narrow space behind the bar, leaning around you for something– for what, you don’t really register, because he lingers there a little longer than he needs to. You can feel his breath on your neck. “Certainly not unremarkable now, huh?” His fingers ghost at your waist. “Nice shirt.”

See, the thing you’ve found with Eddie is he doesn’t waste any time. 

He’s a lifer at The Hideout, worked here all through high school, right up to now. After your first couple of shifts, you locked yourselves in the bar for what he called a peer review. It only took a couple of shots of whiskey between you before he was on his knees, eating you out from your seat on the barstool. You ground yourself onto the slope of his nose, the tip making imperfect but workable contact with your clit as his tongue dove past your lips. Eddie had gripped onto you like a man possessed, determined to make you choke out his name through your orgasm. 

But Eddie had never fucked you. He’d eaten you like a last meal, sure. He’d fingered you against the rough brick exterior of the bar, yep. You’d even given him road head the couple of times he’d given you a ride home after work, dawn breaking over Hawkins and Eddie struggling to drive in a straight line toward your apartment block. But he’d never fucked you. 

“Thanks,” you respond, tilting your head upwards to look at him. “Guy I was fucking before I came in sure seemed to think so.”

Eddie’s mouth curls up into this devilish little grin. “You tryin’ to make me jealous, telling me you’re gettin’ dicked down before work?”

“To his credit, dicked down is,” you sigh, “a little bit of an understatement.”

“Couldn’t finish the job?”

“Not his fault. My alarm went off.”

“And you’re so punctual.”

“Always.” 

Eddie’s hand tightens around its place on your waist, dimpling into the soft flesh. “So you’re left all… wanting, is the conclusion I’m coming to.” 

“Yeah…” and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. From behind you, he angles his hips against your ass, a suggestion of a push upward. The material of your skirt catches, gathers and shifts against him so you can just about feel the swell of him on your almost bare ass. 

“Oh, you little slut,” he says, and fuck, if you don’t love the way he says it. The hardness on the letter ‘t’. “Coming in here all dick-hungry. You’re asking me for a favor, then?”

“Least you could do,” you say lowly, “for leaving me hanging in here all the time.” 

“Right,” Eddie nods, his hand travelling toward the hem of your skirt, “The opening rush is crazy around here.”

Ain’t a sinner in the bar but the two of you. 

Eddie’s fingers crawl onto your thigh, reaching higher and higher, and you nearly let out a pitiful little moan in anticipation. All you want, all you want is to plant your hands on the bar and have him drive his cock into you, ringed fingers bruising the soft flesh of your hips. Chained jeans rattling. 

So you move his hand to the waistband of your panties, not that it’s far off. A suggestion of pull these fucking things down.

Eddie’s eyes flare wide. Anybody could come in. Are you sure about this?

But you’re so fucking wet that a job like this isn’t going to take long. He might not cum, but you sure will. You sure fucking will, if he keeps looking at you like that. Like he wants to wrap a ringed hand around your throat and fuck you so good, you’ll forget even the regulars’ orders. 

“Eddie,” you say, purposely wiggling against him as your panties fall to the floor, “C’mon. You’re telling me you’ll let me jerk you off in the keg room but you haven’t thought about how wet it makes me? How much I want you to just–!”

“Shut up,” he says, “Fuckin’ shut up. Bend over.”

Your pulse quickens, mouth popping open. 

“I said,” Eddie starts, hands going to his silver belt, “bend over, slut.” 

And boy, do you ever comply– Jesus. You’ve never seen him like this before, half-mad and fully hard. Usually, Eddie’s the kind of guy who’ll joke his way through a hookup. There’ll be flashes here and there, sure. He’s got no problem telling you where to put it and when. But this…

You bend at the waist, leaning against the bar for support and scoot your legs apart. A great idea on your part, you toss a look over your shoulder– Eddie’s pumping the length of himself, his free hand roaming over the curve of your ass. He notices you looking and gives it a solid smack!, fat jiggling on the recoil. The sight of that makes his eyes keen back in his head a little, a smile dancing at his lips. 

“You better be ready to dance,” he says, fingers teasing at your slit before he enters you in one slow, slow, stretching movement. “We got customers coming in, any minute now.” 

Eddie breathes out a little oh god! in response to feeling just how tight you are around him. He feels exactly as you expected him to– you knew he was big from taking him in your mouth but the girth of him makes you wince a little. Once he’s moving against your honeyed walls, you’re in fucking heaven. He’s thick and solid and this close to throbbing; he’d been waiting for this as long as you had. 

“Don’t worry,” he strains reassuringly, palm coming in harsh contact with your ass cheek again, “You’re cummin’ first, sweetheart.”

The brazen moan, the sound all jittery from Eddie’s rutting into your pussy, seemed to echo in the empty bar. 

God, the acoustics really were great in here. 

The sound of his balls slapping against your gorgeous, plush ass joins the symphony and the sting of his force hitting your soft spot makes your eyes water. You want to look at him again– you have to. Your eyes go over your shoulder and Eddie’s there, fucking beautiful under the bar light’s glow and transfixed on the way your body’s moving against him. He doesn’t need any encouraging. His hand reaches for your throat, holding your chin in place so you can watch him fuck you, so he can watch your pretty face contort as you crest your orgasm. 

Your cunt tightens around him and the sounds he starts making are nothing short of obscene– guttural, growling, snarling. “Fucking getting what you want now, aren’t you, baby girl? All you needed–uhnh–was my fucking–fat cock to cum all over–”

And it’s hitting you in waves you’d gladly drown in, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. You reach down to flick at your swollen clit, half-regretting you’re not drawing out the contractions of your pussy a little bit longer. “Good fucking girl, give me everything you got–” 

“Cum inside me, Eddie, fucking please–” you cry, right over the crest of your orgasm. 

“Huh?” He barely registers what you’ve said, talking you through the arresting drown of your orgasm. But then he gets it, and his eyes do that siren flare thing that they do. “Really? Yeah?”

“Yeah, fucking– yeah!” you yell, a little louder than you mean to, “Fill me, please, I want you drippin’ out of me all night–” 

That’s enough for him to jerk and shudder, his noises becoming tauter, his thrusts becoming shorter, bottoming out inside you in a warm gush. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

“Fuck,” you blink, moving Eddie’s hand from your throat as he eases himself out of you. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, pulling the bar towel from his shoulder to wipe himself off. “Fu-uuck.”

You turn back to face him and snatch the towel, patting between your own legs. 

“Gross,” he chides.

“Finders keepers, asshole,” you giggle, breathless. And satisfied. That giggle bubbling out of you is contagious, because now Eddie’s giggling too. Peals and peals of silly laughter, fizzing out of you both like phosphate. That was fun. Eddie’s fun. 

“Might wanna put those back on,” he points to the ground once he’s caught his breath. Oh right. Your panties.

“Yeah, I–”

But then the bar door swings open, your name called out through the entrance. Wait, is that–

“--fuckin’ Steve Harrington?” Eddie mutters, leaning over the bar to get a better look. 

“Babe,” Steve says, catching sight of you with a little slip of red leather in his hand. “You forgot your…”

He pauses, Maybe he catches that you and Eddie are in a state of post-coital undoneness. I mean, the pink cheeks, the ruffled hair, Eddie’s half-secured belt may be a tip off, but…

“...wallet.”

But where a guilty feeling ought to have settled in, there’s no boats in your damn harbor. Steve Harrington, while lovely, was not your fuckin’ boyfriend. You pluck the wallet out of his hand as his eyes narrow, looking toward Eddie. Eddie, for his part, is putting the puzzle pieces together. 

So it was Steve’s place you were running off to after shifts, Steve’s new car you were jumping out of when you arrived sometimes.

And he looks a little… jealous.

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say, blowing him a little kiss with the wallet. “You wanna drink while you’re here?”

“Nah, I– I gotta… I’m jettin’. So. Later? Later.” Steve Harrington, still struggling to be the epitome of cool. And failing miserably.

You give him a little wave and watch him, fondly, as he leaves. God bless Banana Republic and everything those should-be-fuck-ugly khakis have done for you. In your peripheral vision, Eddie appears next to you. Leaning on the bar. Glaring.

“What’s the matter, Munson?” you simper. “Cat got your dick?”

[judeswhore]

this sucks, i’m lovesick; jj maybank

summary: a “near death experience” is the perfect way to draw out a long awaited love confession

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: mentions of almost drowning and talk of weed

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this has been in my drafts for ages and i completely forgot to post it so anon who requested i’m so sorry but she’s here now <3

"y'know, i'm surprised it's taken you this long to ask for my help." jj eyes you almost suspiciously, his hands pressed into your surfboard as though to hold it steady as you straddled it. his blonde hair was dark and wet, pushed back off his face and curling just slightly at his temples, water clinging like stars to his lashes. he blinked up at you and for a second you tracked the droplet that slid like a tear down his cheek.

it was knocking on three hours since you'd dragged your best friend to the beach and half demanded that he teach you how to surf, dodging any questions he'd thrown your way as to why you suddenly wanted his help. because in all honesty, there wasn't exactly a why, not one that you could tell jj without wanting the ground to swallow you whole. you wanted to hang out with him, without the string of girls that seemed to follow him everywhere, and figured surfing would be the perfect idea. tourons couldn't surf, granted neither could you, but that was the point. jj had been hounding you to learn for years and he wouldn't pass up the opportunity now you were practically begging.

"i was tired of being left out of the competitions, i want the chance to win mr heyward's famous brownies." you skimmed your fingers over the surface of the water, flicking a generous amount onto jj's arm as he sent you an amused glance. the setting sun made his eyes seem brighter, the blue soft and comforting and always so full of trouble, corners crinkling just slightly with his smile.

"what's the point when you always help yourself to half of mine when i win." you rolled your eyes, leaning back to gaze up at the sky, hands pushing through the water to keep your board steady. you could feel jj's eyes on you, could feel the heat of his attention licking across every exposed inch of skin, your pulse kicking up slightly as you let yourself wonder if he was checking you out the way you often did him. it was a miracle you hadn't been caught out yet, if jj was around, your eyes were more than likely glued to him, hanging on to his every word like a lovesick puppy. you were certain john b had sussed you out but he was far too wrapped up in his own head lately to care that you were fantasising about breaking the one group rule.

no pogue on pogue macking.

but really, as long as you didn't act on your feelings you weren't exactly breaking any rules. and like you'd muttered to yourself hundreds of times when you found yourself falling just that little bit harder for your best friends dimples and ridiculous escape plans: the rule was stupid anyway.

"i know they'll taste better when i've won them." you let your gaze find his again, surprised to find a soft dusting of pink over the highs of his cheeks, a sheepish look schooling over his features. you raised a brow and he looked away, eyes turning to the quickly setting sun, the orange glow spreading further across the ocean. "what are you doing later?" your stomach rolled with the possibility he was hanging out with one of his many flings, your hands pushing your board a little further away from him as he remained standing.

"thought we could grab something to eat after this? kie left her laptop at the chateau the other night and john b said he's working late so we could crash there and watch shitty movies and get high." jj wasn't looking at you, he'd instead turned his attention to making sure the surfboard leash was tied securely around your ankle, fingers firm on your skin. even within the water you could feel the heat of them, the goosebumps they sent skittering across your body when they grazed up your calf.

you had to swallow down your happiness at his answer, shove down the bubble of giddiness that threatened to spill out over his offer because it wasn't as if you and jj had never spent time alone together. you used to hang out just the two of you all the time, it was only this summer that he'd started to stray toward other girls, to blow off alone time with you in favour of alone time with them. this was the first time in at least three weeks that it had been just you and jj again, the troublesome twosome who'd once wreak havoc on every inch of the island and you were more than happy that your surfing plot was turning out better than you'd expected.

"didn't you say your cousin got busted?" jj had secured the leash again but he didn't remove his hand, just kept his fingers pressed against the back of your leg, thumb sweeping over your too hot skin. he shook his hair out and sent you a crooked grin, one that made your heart fizz.

"you think i'm dumb enough to only have one dealer?" your arched brow said enough and he finally let go of you, playfully shoving your board away with an eye roll. you wobbled a little at the force, arms shooting out for balance. "i'm not dumb when it comes to weed, sweetheart. y'wanna have one more go and then we'll head back? i'm starving."

you only nodded, sucking in a breath before going through the steps jj had practically drilled into your head, overly aware of his eyes on you. so far you'd simply paddled on your board, attempted to stay standing for more than ten seconds as the slowly growing waves bobbed you around and as you pushed yourself further out you told yourself the last time would be the charm. water lapped over your board, slipped over your thighs and pushed back against your hands, the waves coming towards you seeming a lot bigger than the previous ones.

"hey, i think you've gone far enough, nemo!" jj had to shout in order for you to hear him, the distance you'd put between you larger than it had been before and you could hear the hitch of worry in his voice. you threw him a grin over your shoulder and waved an unbothered hand.

"i was born for this, maybank, prepare to be amazed." you knew you were being cocky, unnecessarily so, but there was a screaming part of you that wanted to impress jj, that wanted to show him you weren't that useless when it came to surfing. you eyed the water, watched the waves roll in and then leant forward, chest pressed flat to the board, hands pushing you further towards the oncoming waves.

"you drown and i won't share my weed with you!" he was teasing, of course he was, he didn't think you were actually stupid enough to try and tackle a wave, he didn't think you would end up slipping only seconds after pushing off to your feet. you wobbled at first, just slightly and then the wave crashed into the front of your board, the impact sending you toppling into the water. a surprised yelp slipped past your lips, followed by a groan when you hit the ocean, jj's shout of your name getting lost as you went under. the shock had you forgetting for a second and salt water seemed to rush into your mouth and bubble in your nose, stinging your eyes as you tried to kick up and break the surface. 

only you'd swallowed a considerable amount of water, your lungs starting to burn and in your panicked state you pushed a little too hard and with little coordination, head smacking harshly into the side of your board. a flare of white hot pain bloomed over your heard, had you sucking in even more water and then nothing.

"jesus christ."

"if you die on me i swear to god i'll kill you."

"breathe, y/n!"

"fuck, c'mon," someone was slapping your cheek, with a little more force than you thought was necessary, their hands quickly switching to press down hard on your chest and your eyes flew open, a violent cough wracking your body. water bubbled out of your mouth and then those same hands were turning you on to your side, pressing soft into you back as you coughed up half of the ocean, your throat and nose and eyes stinging, chest on fire. "you almost give me a fucking heart attack!"

jj sounded frantic, his voice sharp and a few octaves higher and when you were certain you'd gotten all of the water up you lifted your head to gape at him. you were panting, body shaking from the panic and cold, sand sticking to every inch of your skin and you were sure you probably looked a mess but all you could do was stare. he was kneeling beside your legs, shirtless still and soaked again from the ocean, the setting sun seeming to create a halo behind his head and despite his obvious worries and the slight spark of annoyance in his eyes he looked heartbreakingly gorgeous.

"yo, dude, did the water mess up your hearing?"

"you slapped me."

"i-what?"

"you slapped me."

"of course i slapped you! you were unconscious and you'd swallowed half the worlds water supply and probably a few fish, what else was i supposed to do?" jj shook his head in disbelief, splattering you with droplets of water and sat back on his knees, his hand that had been pressed against your back settling instead on your thigh when you sat up. heat seemed to bloom from the spot, goosebumps skittering across your skin from the point of contact and your heart have an unsteady thump in your chest.

your teeth were chattering and in an attempt to warm up you wrapped your arms around your self, shifting closer to jj in the sand. "you're not supposed to slap someone who's just almost drowned."

"you're not supposed to try and ride a wave when you've only been learning for five minutes."

"that wave came out of no where."

"you were being cocky." you went to argue but then jj's hands were suddenly on your face and your mouth ran dry (an after effect of the gallons of saltwater you told yourself), a hot flush rising up your chest. he gently tilted your head from one side to the other, thumbs grazing over your cheeks and you shivered even more at the cool bite of his rings against your skin.

"what're you doing?" you weren't sure why you were whispering or why you couldn't seem to tear your gaze from the downward curve of jj's mouth, your fingers digging into the soft sand at your sides. he had a cut on his bottom lip, almost completely healed from his last run in with some kooks and a burning need to brush your thumb over it crawled up your chest. his tongue pushed out, swept slowly over that same lip and you briefly wondered if he'd done it on purpose.

"checking for injuries, you whacked your head pretty hard." jj's voice had also dropped and his finger was brushing feather light over your hairline, pushing with just enough pressure that you could feel the forming bruise. "gonna have a golf ball up here when you wake up in the morning, might rival the size of your ego."

"john b has a freezer full of peas i can hold against it, i don't think he'd miss one bag."

"you're an idiot, y'know." you made a noncommittal noise, still staring at his lips, at the dip in the centre of his top one, at the years old scar that was just between his nose and his cupids bow. mesmerised slightly by the way they shaped your name when he blew it out with a sigh. he dropped his hands from your face, one of them settling over the top of yours as it rested in the sand. "i'm serious. you could have gotten seriously hurt. you were supposed to just stay standing, you weren't supposed to throw yourself headfirst into the wave like some olympic gold medalist."

jj was going on, complaining about your stupidity and the fact he was never gonna teach you how to surf again and how you were banned from sharing his weed for the next two weeks while you thought about the consequences of your actions. but you weren't thinking about your actions or the lack of weed or the dull throbbing that had started in your head. you were thinking that jj maybank was quite possibly the most beautiful person you'd ever laid eyes on.

you were thinking about the way the sun glinted off his hair and how you wanted to map out every freckle that dusted the broad expanse of his shoulders. about the soft way his fingers trailed your face and how despite the anger in his eyes he was still looking at you like you were the only girl he ever wanted to look at. you were thinking about those god awful lips and how good it felt to hear him say your name and how you wanted to feel them pressed hot and feverish against every part of your body. you were thinking about the time when you were eight years old and you tripped in the street, scraping you knee until it was nothing but shredded skin and blood and jj was there, tying his bandana around like a bandage, flashing you a boyish smile before he helped you to your feet. jj was always there.

you were thinking about how much you loved him.

"you know that means no smoking tonight, right? you gotta earn your smoking privileges back, this is good weed that i got, there's no way i'm wasting it on an idiot like you. you can-"

"i love you." jj reared back as though you'd taken a turn at slapping him, his words falling short as he blinked at you. and blinked again, mouth opening and closing and for the first time in his life, jj maybank was speechless. for a few moments you simply stared at each other, the sun almost completely lost beyond the horizon, the sounds of laughter and yells from further along the beach almost completely gone, the water creeping closer along the shore to where you were settled.

a thousand emotions seemed to play out across his face, his eyes flitting from your own to the space over your shoulder, his hand which was still on top of yours on the sand a heavy weight. the longer he was silent the more your heart tripped and sputtered, regret and hesitation replacing your earlier boldness and you pulled your hand from beneath his, tucked your legs a little closer to your body.

"j.." your teeth had started to chatter again, from the gust of wind that blew in and from the nerves running riot through your body and it was that and the soft plea in your tone that had jj blinking out of his daze.

“how hard did you hit your head?” his tone was light and teasing, a soft spark to his eyes and an even softer curve to his lips, both of which sent your heart into a frenzy. your own mouth tipped lopsidedly.

“maybe hard enough to give me a concussion.”

“rattled a few brain cells loose.” jj’s smile had dragged your attention back down to his lips, your eyes following the way he swiped his tongue over the bottom again before biting into the inside of his cheek. his fingers found yours on the sand again, his pinky sliding alongside yours and he’d somehow leant his body in closer to you, the space between you almost non existent. you could smell his cologne beneath the scent of the ocean that always seemed to cling to him and the smallest hint of something woodsy that made your head spin a little. you weren’t sure yet if the head spinning was because you’d almost drowned or because jj was so close and you could feel the heat of his skin pressed against your thigh.

“did you even hear what i said?”

“i heard.” you narrowed your eyes and locked them on his, unsure what he was thinking. there was something different in his eyes, he was looking at you with such intensity that you almost squirmed, heart thumping in your throat.

“you heard? and you’re not gonna say anything?” you watched him shrug, felt his fingers curl around yours while his other hand reached to your face, fingers brushing gentle over the curve of your jaw. his thumb swiped over your chin, grazed your bottom lip and sent another wave of shivers over you.

“i was thinking i might make you wait a few years before i say it back. think of it as payback.”

“payback?” you felt stupid, confused and a little fuzzy because of the way he was touching you and you worried your brain had somehow shut down from water damage. you frowned and willed yourself to stop staring at his mouth, the way he was only inches from yours. one small move forward and you could kiss him. “payback for what?”

“for making me wait years for you to say it.” jj’s fingers settled beneath your chin and tipped your head back, his mouth teasing softly over yours as you fell completely still. you were afraid if you moved he’d pull back, if you blinked he’d disappear because maybe you were still under the water and this was your brains way of mocking you. his breath was hot against your lips and so very real. “i thought old shoupe was gonna get me locked up before i heard you say it.”

“you knew?”

“you’re about as subtle as a house on fire.” he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your chin, slipped his fingers around the back of your neck and bumped your nose.

“i can be subtle.”

“you think i didn’t notice you ogling me like a piece of meat? your bedroom eyes are practically engraved into my head.” you tried to bite back your smile, wrapped your fingers around his wrist and toyed with the bracelets he had there.

“if you don’t hurry up and kiss me i’m gonna take it back.”

“bossy bossy, you wanna watch your mouth.”

“i don’t-” jj pressed his mouth over yours and every thought you’d ever had seemed to scatter, replaced with one flashing thought that you were finally kissing him. his lips were soft, warmer than your own and firm in their demand of working you open, tongue finding yours almost instantly. he tasted like the chocolate he’d eaten not long ago with the faintest trace of his cigarettes and if it had been anyone else you would have found the combination disgusting. but it was jj and it simply had you tugging him closer with your finger hooked in his shark tooth necklace, humming quietly when he skimmed his hand over your ribs and around your back to press you to him.

you got lost in his kisses, in the languid stroke of his tongue against yours and the teasing nip to your bottom lip that made you almost choke on a whine. you slid your hand into his hair, tugged just enough to make him hiss, his mouth trailing hot kisses over your cheek and jaw in an attempt to compose himself. you grazed your nails over his scalp, drifted them down his neck and jj shuddered against you, his lips settling against your shoulder.

“i love you, too. in case it wasn’t clear.”

[shininas-ideals]

KUNICHUU RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS IF I CAN ASK . THEY MAKE ME SKITTER AROUND IN MY ENCLOSURE I NEED MORE CONTENTTTTTTT I need to draw them too but ehhh BUT GAH. KUNICHUU SWEEP

Kunichuu makes me so angry because THERE'S LITTLE TO NO CANON INTERACTIONS LIKE WHAT. THEY WOULD HAVE SO MUCH CHEMISTRY. THEY WOULD BE UNSTOPPABLE.

Okay, where should I start

Kunikida would start having a very low opinion on Chuuya since he's an Executive of the Port Mafia, y'know, an organization that kills, tortures, practices extortion among other very illegal activities; but then he would slowly realize that Chuuya, believe it or not, has a strong moral code, that he doesn't see his subordinates as numbers, that he would only kill for the job and doesn't actually enjoy the act of taking a life, and he would at least respect his humanity (and respect the fact that he could stand Dazai for three whole years)

Chuuya, on the other hand, would see Kunikida as a naive, idealistic "hero" wannabe, someone weak that doesn't realize how horrible the world is and tries to be all high and mighty towards any criminal; his view changes a bit when he sees how much of himself he's ready to give up for his partners, and that Doppo doesn't ignore the horrible realty he lives in but instead tries to FIGHT against it, aiming for being the best person he can be even IN SPITE of the world working against his morals and ideas

As a duo, they're both incredibly proficient physical fighters, even without abilities; they tend to have a more nonsense attitude that their piers, making them both some of the more responsible in their respective jobs; they're both surprisingly very in touch with their emotions, feeling free to cry, to scream, to laugh; they wear their heart on their sleeve, and have eyes that burn with passion and vitality, which would make communication between them very easy, and they could find understanding in the others company

Dazai contrasts and complements them both, but Doppo and Chuuya multiply each other strengths, and I think that's a beautiful dynamic that we should se more of

This was supposed to be a short answer since I'm really bad at expressing myself with words, but alas I had more to say than I realized lol

Thanks for the ask!

[junebugtwin]

okay actually i need to ramble about taylor and her dad for like a bit cus its sooo much.

like okay listen listen listen: Danny wakes up early and he cooks breakfast maybe and then he goes to work and he does his job- and he's great at his job, in any world but this one, in any other brockton bay, he'd be able to afford to take taylor out of winslow or fix their broken step- maybe get her her like a dog or something (which btw would fix her) and y'know pay the bills and shit. but he can't in this universe because in this universe kaiju attack every 2 seconds and one specifically doesn't like people existing on coasts and like he's a dockworker or whatever so! so. so he works all day tirelessly just to not get his crew jobs or better pay because no one is going to sponsor the people working on a non-existent dock like its literally a graveyard! who would pay for this when there's an actual dragon man running around the city burning buildings down and an entire neo-nazi contingent of super-cunts nobody is going to do that. But this is his life. And he's stubborn and things had been better before so maybe they can be good again and he hates change and he doesn't want to have it all been for nothing and this is what he does. So he gives it his all. He stays late and he really only hangs out with his coworkers and he does have to pay the bills so its not like anyone could blame him. So he slams his head into the brick wall hoping it will break before his skull will and he misses so fucking much of what is going on in his daughters life! but it goes by so quickly, too quickly and by the time he's begun to figure out just how deeply and irrecoverably she's changed its way too late to just swing back in like nothing happened. He can't actually! They've both closed themselves off totally, her even farther than he has. but they're both stubborn, so stubborn and they think that if they can just hold on a little longer then things will be okay because things have to be okay because this can't be the rest of their lives! And Taylor really is her fathers daughter because she sees the way he bloodies his head on that wall and says fuck it all do you one better: this brick wall is going to break or i am! and if i do then i won't be around to care about it! And she's skipping class and spending nights somewhere else, sneaking out and of course he knows about it- of course he knows! What is he going to do though? confront her? and then what? what justification could he possibly have for that? to demand answers from her when she should be the one demanding them from him? he let her go back to the same school that nearly killed her! he let her drown without him when his wife died- didn't notice when emma broke her heart, didn't notice when she stopped loving english class or trusting adults or speaking without thinking 'stupid!' at herself reflexively. or worse- he did notice and chose not to do anything out of cowardice and habit and procrastinating guilt- like his daughters mental health was homework he hasn't handed in. But they both feel better, when they don't have to talk about it- and there's nothing morally wrong with skipping school or dropping out entirely but taylor used to like school but having an actual conversation with her about what exactly is happening in her life is something he takes half a zillion words to work up to and by the time he actually does he has to lock them in a goddamn room together- not because it's a good idea- if he knew more about taylor he'd know its a surefire way to freak her out- but because that's what he needs to talk to her.

and it just...deflates. she leaves and drops out of school and doesn't really talk to him again until brockton bay is like halfway underwater. there's no catharsis with him finding out she's Skitter, its not satisfying, not even in an angsty way- 'luke i am your father' -at least that's properly dramatic! It's just sort of an. oh. okay. fuck.

i dunno. this wasn't going anywhere. i just...man. they'd both kill for each other, i am confident in that much, but both seem to struggle pretty hard with the 'living for each other' part.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

a little thing based on this art. nsfw but not explicit.

Keyleth didn't buy the lingerie for herself. She never would—it just seems so...frivolous, and expensive, and embarrassing. She understands the appeal—people like soft, delicate things, like butterflies and lace—but...it just wasn't her.

Which is why she couldn't help but stare owlishly when a package was dumped unceremoniously in her lap on a random afternoon by a sun-kissed Pike. "Happy birthday."

"My...birthday was four months ago."

Pike shrugged. "Time is an illusion. Go on, open it."

Nothing could have surprised her more than the forest green negligee and matching panties she discovered nestled among blush pink tissue paper when she opened up the box. She sputtered out half a dozen different sentences at once, before finally choking out, "Why?"

"I thought it would go nicely with your complexion. I got a royal blue for Vex, because, y'know, she's got a motif going on." Pike smirked. "My set is yellow."

"Do we...have matching underwear?"

Pike rolled her eyes and hopped up on the couch in Keyleth's Zephran cottage. "Not matching, I just got a set for each of us. Y'know..." She elbowed Keyleth in the ribs. "For fun."

"Oh." Her blush extended all the way down her arms. "So this—I mean—I'm supposed to—"

"Keyleth, you can do what you want with it. Vex is gonna use hers to fuck Percy nasty, and I like to wear mine to dance around the house." She paused. "And also to fuck nasty. But why don't you just try wearing yours to sleep? It doesn't have to be sexual if you don't want it to be."

Keyleth swallowed hard. "Right."

"I mean, you put this on and Vax is definitely gonna break his leash, but—"

"OKAY, THANK YOU PIKE." She slammed the lid of the box closed and buried her face in her hands.

And yet, here she is, just a week later, inexplicably wearing the surprisingly soft lingerie set, lounging on the bed with a book in her hand. It's not a particularly interesting read—something about architecture and city planning that Percy insisted she peruse—but at least it'll help her fall asleep. Vax is curled up beside her, his long hair a waterfall up over his pillow, and she's got an arm around him, keeping him close, her favorite place for him to be.

Pike wasn't wrong: the first time Vax saw her wearing this, face red and lip chewed nervously, his eyes bulged—as did other things. But when she stammered out an explanation, he took her face in his hands, kissed her gently, and said, "You're always beautiful, and I always want you." His fingers toyed with the hem of the negligee. "This is just...bonus."

Now she pulls him in tighter, eying him over his shoulder. He's pretending to be asleep, probably to guilt her into turning off the light so he actually can go to sleep, and she takes the opportunity to admire him in the way she so often feels him admiring her. His muscles are long and ropey, giving him a deceptively wiry look, and in the past year or so since she's given it to him, the burn scar of her palm in the center of his back has healed into a warm red the color of her freckles. He is, in a word, sexy, and wearing this ridiculous, frilly thing makes her feel sexy too, a feeling that is so often foreign to her.

She catches him peeking over his shoulder at her. "Ah, so you are awake."

"No I'm not." He grins.

She sets the book on the nightstand beside her. "That sucks. If you were awake..." The sentence dangles in an unfinished suggestion.

His head fully cranes around, eyes dancing hopefully. "Yeah?"

Keyleth shrugs, and the motion makes the gauzy negligee ripple across her stomach. "But you're so tired."

He's on her then, warm body held aloft over hers by arms leaned by years of hurling daggers and scaling walls. "Oh, trust me." His smile glitters, playful and devilish. "I would love nothing more for you to tire me out."

And as his hand comes skittering up beneath the nightie, she grins up into a kiss, silently thanking Pike for the strangest, best gift she would never have asked for.

[valkeakuulas]

14, post-o66 echo/rex 👁👄👁

Y'know, I don't recall writing about this ship before. Especially when it comes to the Bad Batch timeline. 🤔 So here goes nothing! This also grew legs and skittered out of my hands, turning into a lot longer before I managed to pin it down and finish it. Whoops?

Mistletoe: Mutual Pining

Echo stood in the shadows of the repair shop's massive doors, watching the traffic going up and down the underworld portal. Behind him, he could hear the music flowing from the floating speakers as well as the low conversation between the freed troopers and the Martez sisters.

Sighing, Echo closed his eyes and listened.

Just like their mutations, the Batch sounded different compared to the rest of the troopers, and while Echo had grown used to them, hearing more than one vod speak with that same, familiar voice soothed something deep inside him. It reminded Echo of his life in the not-so-distant (depending on how one looked at it) past when he'd been wearing white and blue.

"I was wondering where you'd go," one of those voices spoke behind Echo, making him shiver involuntarily as it had so many times before, ever since that cold, desolate moon.

Maybe not that same after all, Echo corrected himself as he turned slightly. Natborns might mix them up but vod could always recognize another one vod from voice alone.

He saw the smile first, small but sincere, before meeting Rex's eyes.

"Just needed a moment, it's been a while since was surrounded by this many people," Echo replied with a small smile of his own.

Rex hummed, thoughtful as he came to stand next to Echo, their shoulders almost touching. He looked at the never-ending traffic as well and it took Echo everything not to lean against Rex as he waited for his Captain Rex to speak again.

"It's been a while for me too," Rex said eventually, "I was on my own quite a while before Rafa and Trace helped me to free more clones." His brows drew together, the smile turning into a mild frown. "Never crossed my mind that I'd end up in a situation where I wouldn't be surrounded by vode. We clones aren't really meant to be alone."

He glanced at Echo. "I'm glad you had the Batch, Echo" Rex said, serious.

"And Omega," Echo had to add, witnessing how Rex's lips twisted, fighting a smile.

"And Omega," Rex amended, "she's different, that's for sure, but very brave as well as smart."

They both couldn't stop their grins as they recalled how the tiny girl had clocked Rex's age with one glance, effectively calling him an old man.

They fell silent again and another piece dedicated to the Life Day started in the background, the velvet-like voice of the singer crooning about curling together with their loved one under the Life Tree.

Echo felt his face warm up a little as he recalled another memory or, more accurately, a dream from the past. One that he hadn't dared to speak to anyone besides Fives and even that had been when he'd been drunk off his ass. Both of them had been drunk offf their asses.

Just like the singer, Echo had once dreamed of closing the distance between him and the man standing next to him, to hold Rex close and whisper words of love into his ear.

But that had been before Lola Sayu, before Echo had been blown to bits. Before the galaxy Echo had known and trained to fight for had turned upside down.

"So what do you think of this whole Life Day thing?" Echo heard Rex ask, the question effectively stopping Echo's thoughts before they spiraled further.

Echo shrugged. "I faintly recall Commander Tano telling something about it but not much. At least nothing like this."

He used his thumb to point back inside the repair shop and the colored lights, the fake tree, and the sparkly decorations the sisters had pulled out from some crates. The repair shop was too large to decorate completely but one corner of it had turned into a glittering, colorful nook like Echo had never seen before.

Omega and Wrecker would love it, Echo mused with a grin.

He turned to Rex to say that, only to freeze when he found the other staring right at him. Those gold-brown eyes were intense, scanning Echo's face almost as if it was a map that Rex needed to memorize.

"You miss them? The Batch?" Rex asked suddenly, jarring Echo once again.

"I do? Kind of hard not to after what we've been through," he replied, slow, uncertain what Rex was aiming at.

Whatever it had been, Echo's answer made him turn away again, and Echo got the sense that Rex wasn't all that pleased with it.

"I miss you, too," Echo blurted, eyes widening when he realised his mistake. "The 501st, I mean," he hurried to add when Rex turned towards him again, "the General and Commander, Jesse and Kix, Axe and Denal. Fives. I miss all of you."

The look Rex gave him wasn't as intense as it had been before but it still had Echo holding back a shiver.

"I miss them, too, Echo," Rex admitted quietly, "and I miss you as well."

Something twinged in Echo's chest and it had nothing to do with the tech embedded in his body. He opened his mouth to say, well, Echo didn't know what he was going to say but before he could, a light movement in the corner of their eyes caught Echo and Rex's attention.

Both of them turned sharply towards the repair shop, only stopping when they saw a branch of something green floating in the air before them.

Except that it wasn't floating; a closer look revealed a cord wrapped around the plant that was slowly moving closer.

Confused, Echo followed the cord and blinked in surprise when he spotted Gregor standing on the stack of crates next to the repair shop doors and, as it happened, next to Echo and Rex as well.

"What the - ?" Echo started just as Rex groaned, suffering.

"Gregor..."

"Nuh-uh, you know the rules, Rex," Gregor informed with a grin as he angled the plant right above them, "if you find yourself under a mistletoe, you need to kiss, otherwise you'll be hit with bad luck."

Echo felt his face heat up at that, his heart twinging again at the idea of Rex kissing him. He didn't know what kind of expression he was wearing but Echo feared it looked too close to a hopeful one.

Trying his best to push it away, Echo glanced at Rex, finding him once again staring at him. And, as Echo watched Rex, his gaze flickered down to Echo's mouth and oh, the flash of teeth as Rex bit his bottom lip nearly had Echo losing control of his knees.

The mistletoe swayed as Gregor shook it. "C'mon, you two have been mooning over each other long enough."

"There's been no such thing," Rex informed Gregor sharply but he didn't look away from Echo, who felt his jaw drop when a light blush dusted Rex's face.

Clearing his throat, Echo gave another look at the mistletoe. "Bad luck, you say? Think it'll hit me double hard since I'm already part of the Bad Batch?" he drawled.

The surprised snort Rex let out eased some of the tension in the air. "Don't think it would be a good idea to find out," he said, aiming for nonchalance but, just like Fives once upon a time, Rex had no sabacc face and he failed rather miserably.

That, and the look Rex was giving at him felt very similar to the one Echo was giving to him.

"Echo...," Rex started, hesitant.

For a second Echo thought about all the times he had wanted to confess his feelings to his Captain, to tell Rex just how much he meant to him.

Echo had survived against all the odds that had been stacked against him since Kamino. Maybe it was time to test if this was just another odd he was meant to win.

Swallowing, Echo stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Rex. He saw Rex's eyes widen in surprise when their chests touched. But instead of moving away, Rex's hands came to rest on Echo's hips, warm and gentle.

"I don't know about you, Rex, but I'd rather kiss you than tempt fate," Echo murmured as he wrapped his arm around Rex's shoulders. "If that's alright with you?"

Breathing shakily, Rex closed his eyes for a second, visibly gathering himself, before opening them again. "I'm more than alright with that, Echo. More than you can ever imagine."

Echo didn't know which one of them moved first but it didn't matter because they were kissing. After so many years, Echo finally got to kiss his Captain.

Above them, Gregor let out a loud hoot, one was nothing but pure glee:

"I told you that it would work, Nemec! You owe me ten credits!"

[tricitymonsters]

After playing all the available betas I think Mori and Amir should make out sloppy style. Something something opposites attract something something. Y'know that "draw your OCS like this" meme where one character is in the sweeping, sheer robe with the fur cuffs and the other is the cartoony heart shaped boxers? That's them. Also Mori would love an opportunity to piss off rich people and I think Amir's parents would have heart attacks and die just looking in Mori's vague direction.

I love the idea of Mori and Amir getting absolutely rancid somewhere. A kind of ongoing joke I have here is that Mori SUPER wants to bang amir but is also absolutely terrified of him. The sound of those heels on pavement makes him skitter away like a sweaty bug.

HOWEVER Amir loves the occasional Nasty Fuck and 100% if Amir's parents laid eyes on Mori they would simply Perish on the Spot. Also like while the wrapping is different, Amir and Mori have a lot of similarities. They love causing chaos, they love being the center of attention, and they LOVE flustering people. Maybe there's more potential here than we thought lol!

[amazingmsme]

For the prompts maybeeee 14 for Curtwen or 24 for Lautski? Whichever you feel more like writing!

Good luck with the longer fics!! No rush at all, I know at least I’m in no rush for you to pump out work when the end result is wirth a longer wait! Have a great day :)

Went with Lautski cause I did 24 with Curtwen already. But I love them sooo much, they’re so silly!

Edit: I can’t believe I fucking posting this without copy pasting the fic I’m high ok

Peter didn't like his laugh. To be entirely honest, he hated it. It's something he was teased for a lot in the past, and it developed into a pretty big source for insecurity. He got into the habit of masking it, twisting it to try and sound more manly. But there were times, around those he trusted, that he'd let his guard down.

He and Steph were cuddling on the couch watching Spaceballs. He was excited to know that she'd never seen it before and was eager to see her reaction to all the jokes. She has seen Star Wars, so she could appreciate and laugh along with all the clever quips and references. But even more than the jokes, she was amused by how much Peter was enjoying it.

"Wow, who knew you were such a giggle bug!" she teased after he recovered from a giggle fit. He choked on his spit in shock, pretending to clear his throat. He looked at her incredulously.

"Steph..."

She furrowed her brows. "What?"

"I don't giggle," he insisted, as if the very idea was a stupid thought. She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him with a mixture of shock, amusement, and disbelief.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Uh, no?"

"You were literally just giggling!" she reasoned, an annoyed grin twitching at her lips.

"Steph, what'd I just say?" he asked, cocking a brow. She arched an eyebrow back at him.

"Oh? Am I gonna have to prove my point?" she asked, voice dipping into a more sultry register. A pale blush crept up Peter's neck as he shifted in his seat.

"Heh, I'd like to see you try," he sassed, returning his attention to the movie. Her mouth hung open at his sheer audacity.

"Oh, okay, so you wanna be like that," she said, nodding to herself. She could do this the hard way. She preferred it, actually.

He let out a startled noise of protest as she paused the movie, eyes widening as she straddled his waist.

"W-whoa Steph, my brother could get home any minute!" he said, a blush already burning his cheeks. She chuckled and shook her head.

"I'm sure it's nothing he's never seen before."

Peter gawked, left speechless by her bold words, but before he could question her further, she started squeezing his sides. He curled in, barking out a laugh in shock.

"W-wahait!" he held his arms out in front of himself for protection, but she easily slipped under his defenses.

"Nope! You said you don't giggle, so just prove me wrong! Shouldn't be that hard since, y'know, you don't giggle," she mocked, leaning down into his personal space as her fingers skittered across his skin, crawling across his stomach.

He snorted as her nails grazed a particularly sensitive spot, helpless giggles spilling out.

"Ihi was wrong, okahay? Ihihi'm sohohorry!" he pleaded, weakly swatting her hands. She gasped in fake shock.

"So you lied?" she asked dramatically.

"No no wait Steph-"

She didn't let him finish his sentence, replacing whatever it was he planned on saying with the most adorable giggles she's ever heard.

[inventors-fair]

Second Spellings: Runners-Up ~

Our runners-up this week are @bergdg, @helloijustreadyourpost, and @hypexion!

@bergdg — The Great Conjuration

I don't really know where blue and green became the shapeshifteryest of shapeshifter colors (or rather, I get the gist because blue = mutability and green = nature). When you have these together, though, you get a card like this which is really damn sweet. This card obviously puts a massive target on your back, but if you go fast enough, you can ensure that the power behind your creatures can swing fully and completely. Or rather, that you have at least one explosive turn. Having all the cards be exiled can be a feel-bad, but there are great ways to exploit this and even better ways that this card is just plain fun.

For example: naming Eldrazi allows you to cast Emrakul off a Blisterpod. Honestly, do I need to name any other examples after that? I think that the only major revision I would make would be for the last ability to say "You may cast any number of cards exiled with ~ this turn without paying their mana costs." I'm not sure where you got the "one or more" wording from, but hey, that's a small issue for such a fun card. It's extremely narrow and more often than not feels like it would be a glass cannon—so yeah, perfectly reasonable for what the conjuration is implying, right? Side note: amazing art skills there. The mood conveys the gist conveys the extremity.

@helloijustreadyourpost — Sky Dancer

I like the Shakespeare reference in the flavor text, and I think it speaks to some kind of faerie perspective that's not quite translatable to human thought—or at least that feels like the intention, the way that the fae see the world. That is to say, I like both the simplicity and the ambiguity. It's actually tied with the effect for the card, which is a potentially quite powerful effect at common! I can't think of any specific effects with which it's broken, at least not at the moment.

So what you have is the ability to swing in with your fliers and then be on the defense, plus if you have any flash synergy you can utilize that to make combat harder for your opponents. All checks out. Cast triggers at common aren't the easiest to grok, but at the same time, this effect doesn't use too much complex space because of no inherent tap ability; I'm thinking of how my students sometimes get juked out with weird Thermo-Alchemist triggers, y'know. By itself, it's a card that does just what Faeries want to do at common, and I think that the only possible change I'd make would be to make it a 1/2, and even that's negligible. Solid common design!

@hypexion — Distortion Skitterer

As an uncommon? You're treading hazardous ground... But, it's a seven-mana 4/4 so that's honestly not so bad. Making additional 4/4s with trample is pretty nasty and you do get one on cast, but holy crap, that's still really fun to play, and fairly limiting all things considered. The amount of times that this would've come up in OGW limited would be pretty little, which is reasonable, but getting two of them or getting just one trigger off would be pretty nasty. Considering that MH3 is going to have even more? Wow. I think that the double-C is quite reasonable for the setup.

Honestly this card speaks for itself—the power level is comparable to the more powerful uncommons of its era, it's an Eldrazi that makes more Eldrazi, and you've got a pretty reasonable wording to show how nuts it can be. FYI, the cast trigger for other spells would actually be its own thing, e.g. "When you cast this spell and whenever you cast a spell with {C} in its mana cost..." I believe you don't have to specify "on the battlefield" because, like Cityscape Leveler, it implies the zone with the wording on the trigger. That said, it's fairly complex, so I understand if things got finicky. Flavor text is a solid B+, too! Just remember to put the period inside the quotation marks. I guess a runner-up flavor would've been Zurdi saying that they missed the scute bugs.

Commentary soon! @abelzumi

[barry-j-blupjeans]

@taznovembercelebration - Cat / Baby

It was late when Taako came home. Much, much later than it usually would be. Unfortunately, part of teaching meant dealing with parents. And with parents came the "but my perfect angel child can't do anything wrong ever!". And with that came the mountains of video evidence that their perfect angel child did, in fact, set fire to the cafeteria and reanimate the frogs that another class was set to dissect. Y'know, normal magic school things.

So yes, it was much later than normal. What he wanted was to reheat his spaghetti left over from last night and then lay face first into bed for the next ten hundred years. He wanted to pile cats on top of him until he couldn't do anything else except sit there and feel the vibrations of their purring. He wanted Kravitz to just like, hold his head, because he forgot to get a new ice pack and a headache had been slowly building all day.

What he got instead were his cats surrounding him upon entrance into the house, meowing desperately. Not too unusual within itself, because they were all attention whores and would do next to anything to get their desired amount of affection. What was unusual was that Angus Jr Jr (named after Angus Jr, who decided that human Angus was a much better dad than Taako and Kravitz were, the little traitor) practically climbed up him like a living jungle gym, wailing, fur on end.

"Hey," Taako said. Angus Jr. Jr. gave a louder, more distressed wail. "Hey. Listen. Is this how we talk to people we love, Angus Jr. Jr.?"

Angus Jr. Jr. flicked his tail directly into Taako's face. The door to the kitchen was open and Taako could see Kravitz's shadow from where he was standing. Maybe Lup's too? And if there was a Lup, there was a Barry. Maybe Angus Jr. Jr. was having an understandable reaction to unwanted social interaction. Taako also wanted to climb up someone and cry until they did something about it.

He took one step toward the kitchen and Angus Jr. Jr. squirmed, demanding to be set down. Taako complied and he skittered off to the rest of the cats, who were hanging around the front door like they were trying to trade catnip without Taako noticing. As he approached the kitchen, he could definitely make out Lup talking. And when he opened the door...

Well. Okay.

Lup was definitely here. Kravitz, too. Very important to include Kravitz. However. Instead of doing a normal afterward hang out, as they were wont to do, Lup was holding an actual baby in her arms. A real-life, half-elf baby, who was currently chewing on her finger knuckles. The baby seemed to be... smoking. Literally smoking, with wisps of smoke rising off their skin and ash all over Taako's newly installed counters.

Lup paused midsentence. Kravitz turned to see him and gave him a sort of half-grimace half-smile.

"'Sup," Lup said.

"That's a baby," Taako said.

"Very astute observation," Lup said.

"That's like an actual baby," Taako said, shutting the kitchen door. The cats meowed from behind him, like closing his own kitchen door was a heinous crime against them.

"Sure is," Lup said.

"It's a long story," Kravitz sighed, sounding just as exhausted as Taako felt.

"It's not- like, I'm not taking care of a baby-"

"No, no, no," Kravitz said, at the same time Lup said,

"Uh, 'cuse me, I've already called dibs, thank you."

"No baby for you," Kravitz said, pointing towards Taako. He pointed to himself next. "No baby for me. No- no. No baby. Bad. No."

"Good to see we're still on the same page," Taako said. "Does, uh, does Barry know about your new pal, Lup, or is it a surprise?"

"Oh, Barry knows," Kravitz said, with a voice Taako knew from experience to be "I've hung around these two fuckers all day". "You do not want to get Barry started on baby stuff, he just won't stop-"

"He's gone to get formula," Lup said. "And diapers. And some fire-resistant clothes. And-"

"I got it," Taako said, understanding Kravitz so well right now. "And why, pray tell, are you doing this in my goddamn kitchen and not yours, which is not even fifty feet away from my house?"

"Baby-proof drawers," Lup said, nodding sagely.

"Cat-proof drawers," Kravitz corrected.

"Same difference," Lup said. "Listen, I'll be out of your hair in about, oh, two hours? Three hours? Depends."

"Great," Taako said, out of fucks to give. Sure. A baby. Great. Good idea, sane idea. Can't be any worse than extinguishing the cafeteria and then walking directly in on a group of frogs chasing some of your teachers. Normal day, good day. He was having such a fun time being alive at this very moment. He wanted to be buried under several hundred pounds of bricks so no one could ever bother him again.

And his spaghetti wasn't in the fridge. Slowly, slowly, Taako turned back to Lup and her smoking child.

"Lup," he said. "The spaghetti?"

"Listen," Lup said again.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

[squiddyposts]

Still have those Nerevarine Taylor Hebert brainworms. The more I think about it and trawl through UESP, the more the coincidences and thematic parallels jump out at me. Sleep-deprived ramblings and massive spoilers below the cut.

Starting off, y'know how Gold Morning wraps up on June 24th? Let's see if that date has any significance on Nirn:

Oh, okay. So, she suddenly appears in the dungeons beneath the Imperial City on Tiber's Day. Y'know, the day celebrating the Dragon Emperor. That might be relevant for the prophecy stating that the Nerevarine is "Dragon-born and far-star-marked." It also casts some iiiinteresting parallels between her and old Talos Stormcrown.

How about being born under a certain sign? Well, Taylor's birthday is canonically in June/Mid Year, which corresponds to the Steed constellation. Nothing too special there, right?

Ah. Hm. The Dwemer, who are kind of a big deal when it comes to the plot of Morrowind, represented the Steed as a scarab. As you may recall, Taylor once rode a giant scarab beetle (best boy Atlas) as a steed. And, y'know, Khepri is a scarab-headed god in Egyptian mythology. The scarab imagery also appears repeatedly in the metaphysics of The Elder Scrolls, in things like the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec and the Mythic Dawn Commentaries. It also appears in Kirkbride's Notes on the Psijic Endeavor and Loveletter from the Fifth Era. This bears further inquiry.

The Psijic Endeavor is "a process by which mortals are charged with transcending the gods that created them," which sounds awfully familiar to those familiar with the ending of Worm. It formed the basis of the teachings of the Prophet Veloth, who led the ancient Chimer to the land of Morrowind. Its rules were taught to him by the daedra Boethiah, Mephala, and Azura. These are the "Three Good Daedra" revered by the Dunmer of Morrowind. In the Tribunal faith, they are seen as the Anticipations of the living gods Almalexia, Vivec, and Sotha Sil. But they also can be viewed as parallels of another.

Boethiah is the Daedric Prince "whose sphere is deceit and conspiracy, and the secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and unlawful overthrow of authority." It is not a stretch to call him the Anticipation of Skitter, the thief-turned-warlord.

Mephala is known as The Webspinner, who taught the Dunmer "meticulous plotting and how to lie, ways to lure and trap our foes, how to manage complexity and predict outcomes." They are the Anticipation of Weaver, the scheming hero.

Azura is the Prince of Dusk and Dawn, and is "associated with mystery and magic, fate and prophecy." She is the Anticipation of Khepri, champion of the prophesied Gold Morning.

At this point, it's probably worth mentioning that the Tribunal, living god-hero-kings of Morrowind, first became such and usurped the Good Daedra in Dunmeri culture by siphoning power from the heart of a god. Meanwhile, the Triumvirate, the greatest heroes of Earth Bet, got their powers from the flesh of a dead Entity. And both trios concealed the nature of their power in order to present an image of unassailable strength, even as they grew fractured and weak. What a fun parallel!

Still, we're not here to talk about the Tribunal and the Triumvirate. Who cares about them? We're here to talk about Taylor Hebert, Lorkhan, and why Taylor is OBVIOUSLY a Shezarrine.

No, seriously, bear with me. Okay, so, Lorkhan (whose severed heart is at the root of the whole plot of of Morrowind) is said to walk the world of Nirn in mortal form. This mortal incarnation, the Shezarrine, appears in times of great need, "gathering armies, conquering lands, ruling, then abandoning his kingdoms to wander again." Famous appearances of the Shezarrine include Pelinal Whitestrake, Ysmir Wulfharth, and Tiber Septim. Yes, that Tiber Septim. The one upon whose day Taylor defeated Scion with a jury-rigged jailbroken superpower. The one who jury-rigged the soul of a Shezarrine into a power source for a weapon meant only to be powered by the physical heart of Lorkhan and used it to conquer the world.

Now, it might be a bit of a stretch to say that Taylor Hebert, parahuman teenager from Earth Bet, is the mortal incarnation of the Missing God. And yeah, she probably wasn't during the events of Worm. But in the metaphysics of The Elder Scrolls, there's this thing called mantling, wherein one can assume the role of another by "walk[ing] like them until they must walk like you." Essentially, one so closely emulates another being until the two are indistinguishable to the world at large. This is arguably what the protagonist of Morrowind does during the course of the game; by deliberately setting out to satisfy the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies, they walk like the Nerevarine until they ARE the Nerevarine. And Taylor? Well, she's already done a LOT of walking like a Shezarrine.

Remember that bit about the scarab imagery earlier? Yeah, well, Lorkhan is explicitly called "the Scarab" in The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec, Sermon Ten. The Psijic Endeavor? Though spread by the Daedra, its originates from Lorkhan. He saw the whole of creation from a sideways angle, and sought to teach others so that they might one day do the same and "transcend mortal boundaries set in place by immortal rulers."

Scarab-headed Khepri transcended the limits imposed on her power, saw the whole of existence by way of the Clairvoyant, and raised an army of mortal parahumans to overthrough the "god" that made them. Her work done, she abandoned her kingdom to go wander again.

Anyways, I hope this was at least somewhat coherent for something written after an all-nighter of playing a twenty-year-old video game and diving deep into the UESP wiki and The Imperial Library. There are a fair few more things I wanna talk about, like how the daedra of the Four Corners of the House of Troubles tie into Taylor's journey in Worm, or the parallels between Scion during Gold Morning and the Numidium during C0DA, but I reeeeaaally should go sleep now.

To close things out, here's a pic of Taylor learning about all this mythic prophecy bullshit from Nibani Maesa, Wise Woman of the Urshilaku Ashlanders:

[ambalambs]

I've been thinking about my little scion trio ocs a lot lately and thought y'know what I might as well post a little snippet of fic for them. Cuz why not and then I can say I've posted at least one snippet for all my xiv ocs (except kaien but we dont talk about that lol). I did this one while trying to get a feel for how their personalities would feel on paper and in a more mundane situation. Nothing special lol

"You're gonna love Grams. She's the best!" Saya told Dailoux as they pushed the door to the manor open.

Dailoux gave her a small, nervous nod but froze on the spot as they were immediately greeted by the strong aroma of freshly baked cookies. Saya and Fawkes didn't appear phased by such a greeting but Dailoux couldn't recall a moment where he had smelled something so sweet.

"Grams! We're back!" Saya called out as she set about placing their bags on the nearby hooks. Dailoux had to quickly step to the side to avoid Fawkes' carbuncle as it skittered past them all into the house.

"Oh! Saya darling!" the voice of a kindly elderly woman called back. "Has that boy of mine proposed to you yet?"

Immediately Saya could feel the heat rising up her face as she took a quick glance at Fawkes. He was busying himself with removing his boots and was already making his way further into the room completely dubious to his grandmother's questioning. Saya took a quick glance back at Dailoux who looked at her equal parts amused and sympathetic.

Saya quickly cleared her throat, "No, Grams. We've brought a friend." It was not uncommon for Grams to tease them but of all the times why did it have to be now in front of Dai. Saya groaned inwardly as she removed her shoes. She waited patiently a moment as Dailoux jolted at the realization of the household's no shoe etiquette and stumbled as he tried to rush to follow their example.

The moment he was free Saya grasped his wrist and began dragging him along guiding him to the kitchen. He couldn't help but take notice that Fawkes had left them behind and had snagged a handful of cookies as he hopped up to take a seat on a countertop. A cookie already stuffed in his mouth as he lazily watched the pair of them enter. Grams however shuffled over to them as she removed her oven mitts.

"Oh there she is!" Grams beamed as she leaned in to give Saya a tight hug. She was a portly woman that immediately gave off a warm and loving presence. It was such a contrasting experience from the broody and quiet grandson of hers. Dailoux couldn't help smiling softly as he stood stooped in the entryway. Grams pulled back from Saya, giving her a small pat on the cheek as the young woman grinned back. "And who might this friend be? Is this the one Fawkes mentioned in his letter?" Her gaze turned towards him and he suddenly found himself growing nervous.

"The very one," Saya grinned. She tugged Dai further into the kitchen to stand beside her. "This is Dailoux. Dai, this is Grams!"

Dailoux nervously tipped his head in a bow. What was common Sharlayan courtesy? Was he supposed to shake her hand? Bow more? He suddenly felt like he was burning up. He glanced past Grams to Fawkes on the counter across the room for guidance but he just watched him calmly as he munched on another cookie.

"Oh my well let me take a look at you," Grams carried on looking up at him with a stern look and adjusting her glasses. Dailoux froze under her scrutinizing gaze. For the first time since he had awakened and Fawkes and Saya had found him he hadn't felt so insecure about his elezen height. He was towering over this woman as she analyzed him. Was this a moment of judgement? What would happen to him if she found him unworthy company? Oh how he wished he could be as small as he felt in this moment. Maybe he'd be able to hide behind Saya if he were. Unconsciously he scooted a little behind her. Saya must've noticed because he felt her give his wrist a small squeeze.

Dai jumped as Grams suddenly leaned back and clapped a hand against the oven mitts in her grasp and smiled brightly at him. "My my this one is a keeper! Dailoux was it? Well, dear, if my boy is calling you a friend then you are more than welcome to a helping of Bellveil cookies!" She turned on her heels but Fawkes' gluttony mustve caught her eye. "Tut tut!" she snapped as she smacked his shoulder with a mitt. Fawkes shied away from her beating with a smirk and stuffed another cookie into his mouth. "The least you could do is offer your guests some first! This boy i swear."

Saya giggled as she reached over to grab one for herself. "Actually, Grams, we have a bit of a favor to ask of you. I'm sure Fawkes already explained why we have to keep Dai a bit of a secret." She paused a moment as if unsure how to approach the question. "And we can't keep depending on the generosity of the Students of Baldesion letting him stay at the annex. So could he stay here with Fawkes? Just until we sort things out, of course!"

Dailoux could feel himself beginning to grow nervous again. He new Saya and Fawkes were already risking themselves even bringing him back to Sharlayan. Fawkes had warned him to keep quiet about where they'd found him and his unusual circumstances. But how much had they told his grandmother? He was beginning to worry what their next option would be should she refuse him. Would Fawkes ignore her wishes regardless? Would he be shuffled off to take their chances at Saya's home? But what if her parents refused as well? Where was he supposed to go? He suddenly imagined them turning him back to the docks to sail him away and be left to stagger his way through this unknown land. Alone. Again alone.

His throat was beginning to dry when Grams finally spoke up tearing him from his rapid thoughts. "Of course he can, dear. It's not as if this manor is lacking space. And besides," she leaned in cupping a hand to the side of her mouth hiding it from Fawkes' view. "This house could use some more lively company than this troublesome bookworm."

Fawkes gave her an annoyed look and glanced between her and Saya as the two women shared a laugh. As an act of defiance he reached out and dropped one if his hoarded cookies to the ground where his carbuncle leapt to devour it. Grams tsked at him again and shook her head.

"Well, Dailoux, dear tell me, how do you like Sharlayan since you've arrived?" Grams suddenly asked, turning her attention to him.

Dailoux straightened up and cleared his throat. "It's-it's been...comfortable. Cold," his voice drifted a bit when he realized he didn't know what to say. He sadly didn't have any memory of another place to compare it to. "It's very nice. What I've seen of it." Which hadnt been much to tell the truth. As soon as they got off the ship they rushed him straight to the annex before anyone could ask any questions.

Grams hummed with amusement. "And you'll have to see more, no doubt. We'll have to take you to the market and find you a nice scarf tomorrow. What do you say?"

Saya perked up at that but Fawkes jumped in before she could speak. "It's too dangerous," he frowned.

"Oh hush nobody will bother asking questions if we merely take him shopping," Grams waved him off. Fawkes glared at her as he went back to munching. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and show this boy to his room." She gave him another quick smack to his shoulder causing Fawkes to roll his eyes and hop off the counter. Saya gave Dai a little nudge and he made his way to follow reluctantly behind Fawkes as he tossed one of the cookies still cupped in his hand his way. Dailoux fumbled as he caught it nearly dropping the pastry in the process.

Grams chuckled lightly as she watched the boys leave the room. She turned back to Saya and smiled softly as she watched the girl kneel down and give the carbuncle a soft scratch behind the ear. It always seemed to gravitate towards her when Fawkes was absent. But as she watched the girl her mood suddenly became grave.

"There was actually something I wanted to speak with you about, Saya." The girl looked up at Grams a bit surprised and quickly stood. She watched as Grams turned and rummaged through a drawer a moment. Once she found what she was searching for, she paused and stared at the item for a beat before collecting herself and turning back to face Saya. She then held out a sealed envelope and Saya felt herself swallow thickly. It was a simple letter addressed to Fawkes but her stomach dropped as she focused on the wax seal. The seal from the scions of the seventh dawn.

"This arrived for him not three days ago," Grams explained, her voice hushed and grave. "Now I know he's kept correspondence with them for some time but...something about this one..." Saya finally tore her gaze from the letter to meet Grams' eyes when she paused. "Something in my gut tells me this one is different. This is the one that's going to take him away."

Saya found herself swallowing again and finding it suddenly difficult. It had been some time since the scions had sent him a letter, it was true. Truth be told she new very little about what it was that group did beyond helping those in Eorzea. From time to time they'd send for aid from Fawkes for his intelligence on primals and his echo. He was a perfect source to dig into Sharlayan's library for them but she knew deep down it'd only be a matter of time before they called him to follow their crusade by their side. Out in the field.

"I've never trusted the work Louisoix's little pupils seem to dig up," Gramms continued, "and I won't have them dragging my boy off to his doom. To follow in that man's footsteps. And now this talk of cloaked shadow people." Grams huffed in frustration. "I was just hoping, whatever nonsense is in this letter, you could talk some sense into him. He always seems to listen to you."

Not about this, Saya thought to herself. She remembered him mentioning these cloaked figures to her before. Ascians he said the scions called them. When he spoke of them she remembered how his eyes lit up with intrigue. If the scions were calling upon him now to help with these villains of course he'd agree without question. If they were as bad as they say then they were a threat to not just Eorzea but everything. There was no way Saya would let him rush in to face that alone. Whatever he decided to do she'd help too. It was the right thing to do. At least she hoped it was.

Her only fear was the danger. They were no strangers to combat of course. They'd faced plenty of beasts and minor voidkin during their expeditions into some ruin or another. Not to mention the others they came across when they found Dai. The others like him but unfinished and wrong. Fawkes alone was a force to be reckoned with and Saya wasn't too bad with a spell and sword. But whatever these ascians were, they were worse. Something in her kept telling her they wouldn't stand a chance against them.

Saya reached out and took the letter from Grams and clutched it to her chest. "Don't worry I'll talk to him." She gave the older woman a reassuring smile and it seemed as if a sudden weight had lifted off the woman. Grams patted her cheek, thanking her, and turned her attention back to her baking just as the boys made their way back into the kitchen. Grams' previous grave demeanor was immediately gone and she was beckoning for Dailoux to give her a hand with the oven. The boy rushed over and Grams was going on joyously about something but Saya couldn't find it in herself to listen. Instead she stood there, letter clutched to her chest feeling like a heavy weight was suddenly crushing her lungs. She looked across the way to Fawkes who had already taken notice of her current state, concern furrowing his brow. She could feel his carbuncle bumping its head against her ankles.

"What's wrong?" Fawkes asked her, taking a step in her direction. But as she quickly shook her head with a reassuring smile his eyes fell onto the letter in her grasp. She brushed her thumb over the seal, trying in vain to cover it but it was too late. He'd seen it. His eyes suddenly lit up in the way they always did that worried her. It was that one look that she recognized. The one she learned to fear in him. That hunger. That fire. That desire for more, whatever it was she didn't know. But she did know that in that moment nothing she could say would stop him from leaving.

Quickly she signed his name. The gesture pulling his focus off the letter and back onto her. She gave him a nervous smile, searching in his eyes for that hunger again but it was gone as quickly as it had come. He smiled softly back at her. Such a rare thing, his smile. And that was all Saya needed to know that whatever happened next, whatever crazy journey they were about to be swept up in, they'd be alright. She'd hold onto that hope.

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Lee!Dream Month - Day 3

if you haven't seen the event post, you can click here to look at the prompt list/rules and check out llama's blog <3

(I also would like to add that the nickname giggle bug at the end was 100% inspired by @twordishfics bc I read their fic the other day that uses it and it's been in my head ALL DAY so thanks for that lmao)

lee!dream month prompt 3 - mask

lee!dream, ler!george, ler!sapnap, 810 words

enjoy!!

--

"I think we start with a couple of you wearing the mask, and then move onto ones without it," Sapnap suggested from his place at the table. "That way when we post them we can do a few of each and build up the suspense more. Also so we don't give people a heart attack from the shock of going 'holy shit this is literally Dream's face reveal', y'know?"

George hummed in agreement and nodded, both of them looking over at Dream as he picked the mask up from the chair and held it in his hand.

"Yeah that makes sense," He confirmed, nodding as well. He fiddled with the clasp of the strap as he spoke. "One of you is gonna have to direct me though, this thing is literally impossible to see out of."

"Yeah, that's fine," George said, shifting his chair closer to the empty one between him and Sapnap. "Here, come sit, just pull your camera up."

Dream slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened the camera, handing it to George as he sat down in the middle of his two friends. He unclaimed the strap on his mask, running a hand through his hand to push it out of his eyes before positioning the porcelain over his face.

"I really can't see shit in this thing," Dream commented, fingers sliding around to the back of his head to redo the clasp.

"Is it the same as the masks we had for Halloween?" Sapnap asked as he propped Dream's phone up against the bowl in front of them, messing with the positioning and angles as he spoke.

"Worse, probably. Most of those had eyeholes, even if they weren't super good ones, this ones just, like… solid."

"Mhm… George, you should've seen us during that photoshoot, it was so funny," Sapnap said as he finally got the camera angle right, leaning back and messing with his hat and the way the hood of his sweatshirt was sitting. "Dream couldn't see, like, 2 feet in front of him, he kept tripping over stuff and reaching out to hold onto my shoulder so he could feel what he was doing.

"It wasn't that funny, I was so stressed out."

"It was that funny. I literally had to hold his hand so he could find a chair to sit down in."

"Oh my god, no way!" George giggled as the thought of Dream stumbling around clumsily behind the mask.

"Also I kept doing this thing that Dream hates but he could even stop me, here look."

"No, no, d-ON'T!" Dream yelped, practically jumping out of his skin when Sapnap reached out to skitter his nails along the side of his neck. He scrunched up on instinct, his shoulder shooting up to his ear, and his hand swatted around like he was trying to shoo away a bug. George and Sapnap both laughed at his reaction. "It's not funny!"

"Yes it is, look!"

"Sapnap, st-OHOP!" Dream's voice got louder as Sapnap dug his fingers into his side, his entire body recoiling and crashing his shoulder against George's with how forcefully he jumped away from Sapnap's fingers.

"No, I think that looks fun, wait," George piped up, and Dream whipped his head towards where he assumed George's voice was coming from as he curled to the other side to avoid his fingers.

"George, no!" Dream held out his hands before George even moved to tickle him, giggling to himself when a moment of silence passed without anything happening. Suddenly he felt a hand reach around his back and poke at his ribs, making him squeak and jump away again, this time ending up leaning fully against George. "Oh, god!" Dream exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively, residual giggles fizzling out as the other two laughed with him. "You guys are so mean."

"Noooo," Sapnap said teasingly, wrapping an arm around Dream's shoulders and rocking him side to side. "We're not mean, you're just so fun to mess with, huh, giggle bug?"

"Noho, no, don't call me that," Dream felt himself flush at the nickname, grateful that they couldn't see his face behind the mask. He took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders before asking, "Can we finally take the pictures so I can take this thing off? I'm starting to see spots back here."

George chuckled and gave the camera one last adjustment, giving some vague directions to Dream by telling him to lean back or scooch left a little or put your arm around Sapnap, like that, yeah, good in order to make the picture look better.

He also made sure to point out every time Dream hesitated in lifting up his arms to put his hands on their shoulders, embarrassing him further each time.

Dream feared this would be the longest photoshoot of his life.

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Break time

I've been having Haruka x Shizuku brainrot

Don't ask, just accept this fluffy mess

___________________________________________

Haruka x Shizuku (romantic)

Lee: Haruka

Ler: Shizuku

Warnings: tickles!

___________________________________________

It had been a long day of diligent idol work. By the time they were done it was late in the evening. The members of MMJ said their goodbyes as Shizuku walked Haruka home, as her girlfriend she couldn't help but worry for her. Haruka had a bit of a tendency to overwork herself, so Shizuku wanted to make sure she got her well deserved rest.

They both went inside Haruka's room, greeted by all her penguin plushies.

"So... what did you want to do?" asked the younger idol a bit awkwardly.

Shizuku smiled at her "I want to help you relax~" followed by a playful wink, causing Haruka to blush softly at the realization.

Shizuku gently layed Haruka down on her bed, the younger idol already giggling from the anticipation. "Hehe, already laughing? I haven't even touched you~" Shizuku couldn't help but chuckle at how easily flustered her girlfriend got at the sheer tought of getting tickled. "I'm gonna start slowly, okay?".

Haruka gave her a nod, feeling too embarrassed to properly speak. Shizuku gave her a calm smile as she pulled up Haruka's shirt to expose her soft belly, letting her fingertips gently glide across the exposed skin.

Haruka couldn't help but jolt once she felt the soft touch of her girlfriend's cold fingertips, her giggles going up a notch as they flooded like cascades.

Shizuku smiled fondly down at her, watching her girlfriend squirm under her fingers, and all she was doing was just gently rubbing her fingertips along her belly. Yet it still seemed enough to send the poor girl into hysterics.

"Y'know, your belly is pretty soft considering how much you work out~" Shizuku smiled as Haruka let out a flustered squeal, her tummy quivering at each ticklish touch.

Haruka tried to stay still with all her might but couldn't help but want to curl in on herself.

"Ah ah~" Shizuku chuckled as she gently took a seat across her partner's waist to prevent her from protecting her vulnerable torso, which only made her feel even more flustered in the situation.

"W-was that really necessary...?" asked Haruka in a flustered tone, Shizuku's teasy gaze making her cheeks turn all kinds of red shades. Not that she minded it of course.

"Well I can't have you squirming away~ Now just relax and let me do my thing" Shizuku sent her a playful wink, causing Haruka to let out an embarrassed groan as she grabbed a nearby penguin plush to cover her reddened face.

Shizuku rolled her eyes playfully as she started to softly skitter her nails across her stomach.

"Ah-! Hahahahaha! S-Shizuku wahahait!" Haruka gasped from the sudden change in technique as she fell into a fit of laughter. Trying to swat away her girlfriend's hands with one of her own, while keeping her penguin plush tightly gripped with her other one for 'protection'. Poor Haruka would try sucking in her tummy, twisting and turning with what little room she had to work with, but nothing could save her from those torturous nails.

"Aww, coochi coochi coo~" teased Shizuku as she softly scratched at Haruka's belly with both hands. Her poor girlfriend would just squeal in laughter, lost in her hysterics, but having the time of her life. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed this much.

Shizuku then moved her fingers towards the center of Haruka's tummy, using her index finger to gently tickle her navel.

"AH-! WAHAHAIT! NOHOHO!" poor Haruka squealed so loudly I'm sure the neighbors must've heard her. Her laughter kicked up a notch as her face all the way down to her neck became strawberry red. Shizuku could only chuckle in amusement at her girlfriend's uncharacteristicaly wild behaviors. For a moment she felt herself get lost in the sounds of Haruka's gorgeous laugh, until she was brought back to reality by her girlfriend's hand frantically tapping her, signaling to stop. Shizuku slowed her fingers to a stop, watching as Haruka gasped for air, her chest heaving up and down as her penguin plush fell to the side from how fatigued she felt, but content. Her red cheeks and wobbly smile were out for the world to see. Shizuku could feel herself falling for her all over again at the sight alone.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Shizuku asked softly as she layed down next to her partner, wrapping her in her warm embrace. Haruka nodded, still feeling too tired and giddy to properly talk, but Shizuku could tell she had fun. Not long after, she drifted off into a peaceful slumber in Shizuku's arms, the older one following shortly after.

___________________________________________

Man it was a bit of a struggle to write this 'cause it's like my brain forgot how words work XD