#oops wrong button sorry

[nativegirltapes]

drew's reaction to angel calling him daddy for the first time bUT when he's fucking her? 🎀

warnings: p in v, the rare occasion where drew is mean to angel during sex lol, mention of reader being 19 oops.

it’s on a day where you’d been acting up a little too much. first, you’d been giving drew attitude all day simply because he looked at you wrong. and secondly, later that night when you showed up to drew’s friend celebration you made sure to wear the best push-up bra you owned (that prior, you’d only ever worn for drew) and a skimpy little pink tank top with your shortest mini skirt. drew wasnt sure what to feel, his little 19 year old girlfriend showing up leaving nothing to the imagination. was he embarrassed, jealous, upset, turned on? it was all of those actually.

and the minute you two walked through his front door after getting home, he was questioning you, but god were you turned on; you’d never admit it but sometimes you acted bratty in hopes that he’d get too worked up and be mean to you. “what did you think you were doing?” he threw his keys on the living room couch. “what do you mean?” you played stupid.

“don’t play fucking stupid.” be rubbed his forehead. “just go.” and so you did, you went into his room and got naked, leaving nothing but your bra and panties on. when drew came back to his room he seen you sitting there all cute. “i’m really sorry.” you whispered seductively, pulling drew in by his belt loops. “i’m yours.”

and before you knew it, drew was pounding into you, your legs resting on his shoulders so he could hit that deep spot inside of you. “did you get the attention you wanted?" drew huffed, the way his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes looked down at you so meanly made you want to cum right then and there. "huh? don't hear you." he repeated.

"yes," you whispered, the word strang out along with your small whimpers and moans. drew's hands dug deep into your thighs, desperately trying to get deeper inside of you. drew was rarely mean in bed, but it would be a lie to say that he didn't like when you got all bratty and the only solution was to fuck it out of you. the way you'd always push his button and just keep going despite him making it clear that you're doing too much, it just got him going.

"you're such a slut sometimes." drew said, the sound of his skin slapping yours filled the room. "i love it." drew brought his thumb to your mouth, you sucked on it before he told you flip over. you laid on your stomach, drew continued pounding into you. "fuck. you like that? you like being treated like a slut?"

"yes, daddy." you moaned. you felt drew stop his strokes for a second, you knew what you said had him going crazy. there's been times drew would beg you to call him daddy, in bed or even when it was just you two alone at his place. you weren't a big fan of it, and you weren't sure why he was either, but sometimes you liked to give him what he wanted.

"daddy? gonna let daddy come inside?" drew grabbed a handful of your hair, you arched your back. "yes.” you felt drew's hips buckle and release inside of you. “fuck.” drew fell next to you. you loosed your grip on his sheets.

“who’s your daddy?” drew teased you, groaning into his sheets, still trying to catch his breath. you giggled and threw your hand over drew’s face. “shut up.”

[tragedy-of-commons]

HOMECOMING.

── dan heng x gn!reader

summary: Your boyfriend invites you to spend Christmas break with him and his eccentric (but lovable all the same) family. You oblige.

contains: modern and university au, established relationship, comedy and tooth-rotting fluff, christmas shopping, the astral express fam all make appearances (pre-2.7), setting is very american-inspired (sorry), cringefail exuberant reader, one hurt/comfort scene

word count: 11.4k oops

taglist: @singularity-sam, @mitsvriii, @tetrachrxmacy, @bladism, @mikashisus

notes: for @azuresaqua, written for the @/stellaronhvnters secret santa 🎄 this took all month, but i hope you like it crys!! also this totally looks fine on dark mode. if you think otherwise then ummm SHHH. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

Your phone blares with its usual grating ringtone, startling you out of your reverie.

Scrambling to pick the device up, you’re pleasantly surprised. So much so that you drop the sweatshirt in your free hand mid-fold. The caller ID reads Dan Heng, lighting up your homescreen with his contact icon.

A warmth buzzes in your chest as you look it over, a giggle erupting from your throat. The selfie is of you and him, with Dan Heng looking particularly spacey in the midst of the bustling street.

You’re now considerably less bored. You’ve been looking for an excuse to procrastinate doing your laundry all day, and it just so happens to entail talking with your lovely partner. Not waiting any longer, you clear your throat, tap the green accept button, and press the speaker to your ear.

“Hi, darling!” you chirp, shifting to sit more comfortably, “I miss you. How’re you holding up? Still in the library studying the day away?”

The other line crackles with life. “Hello. I feel the same,” Dan Heng informs you matter-of-factly, his cadence clear as a river. “And no, I’m not there anymore. It was… too crowded for my liking.”

That’s no surprise. Finals are upon the whole campus in a few days, and it shows. There is a distinct, depressing atmospheric pressure that weighs upon your fellow students. 

The scourge of exams, the final boss of the semester, the enemy of mental fortitude and peace. Though Dan Heng loves your university’s expansive library, you can imagine he’d be less enthralled when a hundred tired young adults are populating it to cram.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” you wince. “Well, look on the bright side. We’re almost done, yeah? Soon enough, the library will be solely your domain once again, and you can be a doll and skim the archives in my stead.”

His voice takes on a sarcastic lilt, affection hidden underneath the words like a hard-won reward. You think it’s an indulgence for him. “If my memory serves correctly, I had to smooth things over with the librarian on your behalf. I don’t think it’s a wise idea for you to loiter there any longer, as energetic as you are.”

How cheeky! Honestly, you’re not even that loud. Sometimes you laugh a little too hard at benign things (like the way some book titles sound out of context), or react too vibrantly at the wrong times (like exclaiming profanities after tripping over your own feet), but those aren’t crimes.

Even now, ruminating over this reasoning, you still don't understand how you got banned from the library. Unreal.

“Hey, come on now! I don’t even loiter… I just want to spend time with you, even if studying isn’t something I burden myself with. That guy has it out for me,” you insist, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. “Anyway, I’m not saying this to be rude, but…”

“But?” Dan Heng asks cautiously.

“You normally don’t call first. Is everything okay?”

You mean it when you ask. Though you love your boyfriend, he isn’t the best at initiating longform communication. Sometimes you’ll get a text with a link to a video he found interesting, or he’ll update you with life (mostly just classes and endless papers), and then you’ll respond by quadruple-texting and then maybe calling him. For hours. And then asking to come over to his dorm. And then falling asleep with him. All at your request, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

That being said, it’s atypical that he takes up the mantle, which makes you worry. And if you worry, Dan Heng feels guilty. Trying not to be patronizing, you patiently wait for him to speak on his own terms, humming to yourself idly. You could, y’know, do your laundry, but you’re not gonna do that. Free will is so cool and awesome.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he assures, words measured. “I just have something I’d like to run by you, but I didn’t want to interrupt if you were busy.”

“I’m never busy! Spill!” Extremely curious, you pluck your phone from your ear and put Dan Heng on speaker. While you’re at it, you also stand up and pace the short length from your bed to the door of your suite, clothes abandoned on the floor. 

“It’s about this winter break. We haven’t conferred on plans yet, but I was planning to ask you if you’d meet my… my family. Of course, it all depends on your availability - don’t feel too rushed to answer, I’d just like to know in advance so I can get things in order on my end.”

Woah, what just happened? You stop walking to think, gears spinning and grinding and pushing all sorts of implications. His family. 

Dan Heng has one, yes, he divulges details every once in a while and elaborates on his mishmash of a homelife when you ask, but you’ve never heard him refer to these mystical figures as family. They’ve always been referred to as my friend, followed by their name. You know them well, committing each to memory despite not having met them yet: March, Caelus, Welt, and Himeko. 

Of course, you pester your boyfriend about them. Nothing too invasive, just remembering the important details. Asking for updates about March’s creative ventures or inquiring if Himeko’s coffee has gotten any more palatable, to name a few. 

In turn, Dan Heng would make a comment about how they also pester him about you. It’s like a big game of telephone - this indirect communication is what you’re used to. It’s kind of surreal to think about actually meeting them after all this time.

Then the joy comes. He wants to share this part of his life with you. Is this the natural next step in your relationship, like all seasoned married couples fondly reflect back on? Dan Heng wants to spend three and half weeks with you, uninterrupted, at home. His home.

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, grinning like an absolute fool. Does he really think you’ll say no? You’d already do anything to make him happy. Despite being several buildings and crosswalks away from him right now, your hearts feel impossibly close together.

(It’s not like you have anything else planned.)

That thought is pushed away as quickly as it comes. No time for you to be bitter when it’s the season of giving and all things cheerful! This opportunity is nothing short of a blessing… you’re saved from being cramped up inside the inevitably deserted hall for the entirety of break. You’re saved from having to admit to Dan Heng that I have nowhere to go and nothing to do like everyone else. 

Shock, joy, relief. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, breathy. With a repressed-young-man-trained-ear, you catch a soft sigh of relief dissipating on the other line. “Yes, of course I want to meet them! Dude, this is so exciting! What if I died? What if I blew up the entirety of campus in my merriment? What then?”

He is far too used to your theatrics to react too strongly to them at this point. “...I wouldn’t put it past you. But I’m glad you said yes. There’s just the issue of details to work out.”

Dan Heng proposes different times on different days to leave. Well, he probably went more in depth than that - he likes to schedule and plan for the future, even if he doesn’t always stick to those self-imposed regulations in the end - probably droning on about the cost of gas or something. But you’re way too shell-shocked to respond coherently, muffling squeals and noncommittal hums that give away exactly how much you’re not paying attention.

Digesting about half of the information, you bring up what you have left to do before winter break after he does the same: registration for next semester’s classes, turning in textbooks for certain courses (thank the stars renting is affordable here), and the remaining days riddled with finals. 

Despite how daunting these tasks are for others, you find yourself enjoying the denouement. Guessing on scantrons has gotten you pretty far, and the other obligations can be swiftly eliminated through sheer will and lots of Christmas music. Your Spotify listening history must look like some kind of tinsel-festooned warzone.

This will be your first ever Christmas with Dan Heng. He’s never been extremely festive by any means, but you cajoled him into a matching Halloween costume a month ago, and he is fond of horror movies despite how silly they can be, offering little bits of trivia or his critiques on the film’s score. 

You think this holiday, spent at his home, in his hometown - will be the source of many happy memories. It’ll also, hopefully, be another endless source of teasing. 

Images flit through your mind, the most notable of which being your stoic boyfriend in a truly hideous red and green sweater. You snicker to yourself until your amusement is disturbed by Dan Heng promptly clearing his throat. 

He says your name in that soft way that makes you weak in the knees. You’re under his spell just as much as he is under yours. You should take to reminding him of that more often. “Just to be clear, is this alright with you?”

It’s so much more than alright, you think. Winter, for all of its bitter cold and unforgiving responsibilities, still teems with life as the leaves die. For every day you’ve spent alone during the last two Christmases, you’ll be repaid with one in kind spent with Dan Heng and the people he trusts most.

You’re blessed with the sweet thought that you’re now a part of those treasured, trustworthy few as well. 

You know you’ve been treasured for a long time, but feeling it actualized, solidified in action, is as homey and warm as a burning hearth.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am, darling. I’m so excited that I think I’m shaking!”

You tighten your grip on your phone, almost leaving indents in the shitty case, attempting to still your vibrating fingers. His response is a mumble along the lines of you should probably eat something, and I’m glad. Dan Heng can be a little awkward, especially over the phone, but that just speaks of his sincerity. He’s glad you’re coming. 

You scuttle over to the window beside your bed, yanking the blinds askew to peek outside. A glimpse of the first frost coating the student parking lot promises something more. Something magical and childlike.

Joy. You have a feeling you’re going to be extremely insufferable to any and all scrooges (people rightfully sick of dealing with your chipper attitude) in the coming days. Oh well, they can suck it up because it’s the most wonderful time of the year, and you’re in love with the most amazing person in the world. 

You tell him not to worry, which he sighs at, and then the brunt of the conversation is over. The following silence is calm but electric, dragging on for just the right amount of time. A well-deserved respite, you think. 

“I love you,” you confess.

“...I love you too. Touch base soon.”

With that, the call ends abruptly. Your cheeks feel hot and you’re reinvigorated, daydreaming of Dan Heng’s expressions obscured by distance - you want nothing more than to see him, but you know your partner well enough to realize when he needs a break; to realize when he needs his alone time. You would never begrudge him for it.

That was a fucking whirlwind.

You shove your phone in your pocket after nudging the blinds back in place. There’s so much to do, and you’re definitely gonna need another run-down of the schedule (preferably in person), but for now, you’ll let yourself be over the moon and overrun with task paralysis. 

Triumphantly, you turn to flip off your abandoned pile of laundry. Free will is so cool and awesome.

“We are so back!”

You’re so impatient that you’ve started counting the hours.

The final stretch is a lot more boring than you thought it was going to be. Picking a time to check out of your dorm, fixing up any scuffs on the walls from your shitty posters before room inspection, actually passing your classes. The normal stuff. 

Both you and Dan Heng decided that you would leave at around three in the morning on the first day of break. It sounded bewildering at first, and you had levelled him with a look that made him hurriedly elaborate.

“In order to get there at a reasonable time, it’s the best way to go,” he’d said over coffee. “The drive isn’t more than a few hours, but if we leave right after routine inspection, we’d be arriving in the middle of the night.”

Though the mental image of showing up on a quaint little home’s doorstep in your pajamas and waking up the whole neighborhood with your knocking is funny, it’s not funny enough to quell your nerves. 

You’ve noticed, usually in the midst of trying to be productive, that the excitement is weighing heavily on your heart. Your hands are perpetually shaky, you’re sweating disgusting buckets, and you’re sure you look as if you’ve lost your marbles to any soul brave enough to strike up conversation.

That last part came to your attention when Bronya, your desk neighbor in your Interpersonal Communications class, dared ask you if she could borrow a pencil. She barely got the question out before she asked if you were alright. And if Bronya asks you if you’re alright, it means that you must look terrible. 

Sure enough, you are getting less and less sleep, and you’ve been prone to twitching. In retrospect, you probably had that wild look in your eye that screamed I am at rock bottom and it’s in the public’s best interest that I’m contained.

But you’re not at rock bottom! You’re just nervous, and it’s weird when you’re nervous, because such an occurrence is as rare as a blue moon. You’re going to be meeting Dan Heng’s family in a matter of days, and you’re expected to behave as a normal, functioning member of society. Unbelievable. Even the love of your life has noticed the difference in your behavior - he seems disturbed but respectful. 

You recall him asking if you were ill, which you had vehemently denied. Then he kissed you under the thin covers of his bed, and everything was fine for a moment.

But you think you’re feeling better on this day in particular. To distract yourself from the anxiety, you’ve sunk deeper into the holiday cheer. With Dan Heng at your side, you’ve blown off classes for the day to go gift shopping. The outlet mall near your university is always bustling, but during this time of year, you’d think there’s an overpopulation crisis wreaking havoc on your city.

Escalators are crammed with excited children dragging their parents along, there are decorations painstakingly put up in every nook and cranny, and you have a mission to see through.

“Thanks for ditching to help me out,” you preface. “It’d be way too difficult to shop for your family on my own. Just the idea of stress-buying things they may not even like… ugh. Also, wow! I realized you haven’t told me jack shit about them! I’m actually clueless.”

Dan Heng is not amused, but he doesn’t outright refute your assertion. “I suppose you have a point. And I didn’t ditch class,” he emphasizes, ears red. “Psychology got canceled.”

Here, among the sea of people, Dan Heng looks his least confident. While you, the person known for befriending every stray cat you meet, look your best.

The juxtaposition makes you feel fuzzy, and you know in your heart that he would've helped you anyway, even if he had class. He can be so obvious but so subtle at the same time. You tug on the sleeve of his sweatshirt once, purely affectionate. 

“Right. Uh, where do we start? Who’s the easiest to shop for?” you wonder aloud, crossing the stretches of marble and doing your best to peer down the massive store-lined strip. “We could start with March. She’s into crafty stuff, right?”

Your boyfriend tames a cowlick in his dark hair. “Yes. You seem to have a plan figured out already, but she uses up heaps of film while taking photos. An arts and crafts store would likely have the 600 type for her Polaroid. That’s what I had in mind in terms of a gift she’d appreciate.”

“We seem to be on the same page, but that just sounds so… impersonal! Bit of a safe choice, don’t you think? Let’s play it by ear and see what they have. I’m sure she’d also appreciate something handmade. I think I have enough time to DIY a gift; they probably have kits for all sorts of stuff.”

Dan Heng is starting off in the direction of the correct storefront. The display window is easily spotted, plastered with all kinds of paper mache ornaments. “You don’t need to fret. Knowing her, she’ll love anything that comes from you.”

You blink, grinning. “Really? Didn’t know I was so popular.”

“You have no idea,” sighs Dan Heng.

Warmly titled Make n’ Create, the door chimes, signifying your entry. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the smell of candles - a few hundred thousand, you hazard. 

Scents of vanilla and evergreen paired with cinnamon burn your nostrils as you survey the aisles of winding shelves overflowing with endless possibilities. Almost forgetting to return the greeting of the woman behind the counter, you snap out of your stupor and drag your boyfriend along.

Everything looks enticing… your savings account is telling you to be responsible, but your heart is telling you to snatch up and squirrel away any item of interest just in case. You wander the marble floor under the bright fluorescents, humming under your breath. “Hey, we can probably save some time and split up. Could you go look for the film? We’ll definitely get that along with whatever catches my eye.”

Relieved to have something to do, Dan Heng nods and disembarks from your side, perilously weaving between other shoppers buzzing with excitement. He mentioned that he deliberately put off Christmas shopping since you insisted on doing it together, the thought alone satisfying. 

The prospect of scrawling both of your names on the same box, passed off into eager hands. The words will read From: Dan Heng and his partner.

Rounding a corner, the pottery and ceramics section calls to you like a siren. There are stocks upon stocks of white, unpainted Christmas trees and wreaths, advertised as blank canvases to decorate as your own - paint included. Those are cute, but something relevant year-round would probably be received better. 

Impressions, impressions. Your gaze drops lower, dutifully searching…

Aha!

Ceramic jewelry dishes. Same gimmick as the trees and wreaths, but not necessarily seasonal. There are a few different types among the kits - heart-shaped, some with hinges that open and close, even some with music box elements with heftier price tags. 

Your intuition slaps you across the face multiple times. March will love one of these, you just know it! Cautious, you spare a shifty glance from left to right before squealing to yourself. The package in your hand is crisp and promising as you check over the price and instructions.

Dan Heng returns to witness your perfect find. You know this because you recognize the soft padding of his footsteps anywhere (which is not creepy). You turn to see him and the fond look in his eye - and the aforementioned packages of film he’s clutching. 

“Hey, you,” you chuckle. “You found it, great! Anyway, look what I stumbled upon. Do you think she’ll--” “Yes,” he breathes, suddenly decisive. “She will. Especially the heart one.”

Quickly heeding the ever-rare suggestion from Dan Heng, you discard the now inferior package and seize the heart-shaped one. “I trust your judgment. She has good taste, honestly. Thanks for your help, love, I appreciate it. I know for a fact she likes pink, and though my hands are a little clumsy… I’ll make a masterpiece outta this, trust me.”

He exhales through his nose. That’s a laugh if you’ve ever heard one. “You sound so resolute…”

“Duty-bound, if you will,” you grin. “We can move on to the next place if you’d like. Didn’t expect to be done here so fast.”

“...wait.”

You tilt your head, following his line of sight back to the shelves. He seems transfixed on something else there, and a few seconds go by in silence as you’re left to figure out what it is on your lonesome. 

Dan Heng has gotten better at speaking his mind - he was never bad at it, but sometimes words get tangled up in his reticent hesitation. You understand this well. So, you try to determine what’s caught his eye. The understanding you come to is a nice one. The lowest rung of the shelf, almost overshadowed, are more ceramics - no surprise there. But it feels like fate the way that they’re displayed; two sturdy coffee cups with intricate handles, then a miniature raccoon forever inlaid with a devilish expression, practically commanding a paintbrush to make its mischievous grin come to life with color. 

Himeko, Welt, Caelus.

You laugh, loud and bright, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand with a conspiratorial grin. “Four birds with one stone, huh? We’re gonna need a cart!”

Dan Heng is blushing. It’s subtle, not at all burning or obvious to any nosy bystanders, but it’s enough to make your heart sing with delight. You take it he’s glad that you picked up on his thoughts so wordlessly. 

He excuses himself after muttering something about going to get the cart while you smile like an idiot. A lovestruck idiot. A lovestruck idiot with a soon-to-be overdrawn bank account.

…well, not exactly. After you gather everything and go to check out, he insists on paying for all of it. You make sure to argue with him in front of the very amused cashier, reaching a compromise in no time at all thanks to your amazing negotiation skills. He’ll pay for this load (whatever), and you’ll pay for any remaining splurges today. It’s only natural you need to stop by a few more places, considering March has two gifts while the others only have one. 

By the time Dan Heng’s social battery is drained and yours is frayed, you have everything. An apparel outlet that you would’ve never stepped foot in normally now has your patronage; a golden brooch in the shape of a rose (that’s surprisingly affordable) for Himeko, a classy but patterned tie for Welt, and a trendy jacket for Caelus.

You think you’re the most jealous of that last one - it has many pockets and takes up enough space to suffocate a small orphan.

Hauling the bags into the icy parking lot, you suddenly stop in your tracks, feeling the generous weight of your spending in the process. “Hold on.”

Your tired but loving partner heeds your command. “What? Is something the matter?”

“We forgot to shop for each other,” you point out, sheepish and breathy. Seems you’ve both been so caught up in the tradewinds that you forgot. “Should we go back inside?”

“No,” he blurts, “I’ve already acquired your gift.”

Gobsmacked, you almost drop your share of the bags. He’s been holding out on you?! The surprise quickly fades into mushy limerence before it dulls. “Huh? When did you do that? Oh shit, I haven’t gotten you anything yet… dude, I’m sorry, I’ll head back inside, all secret mission-esque and find you something while you wait in the car--” 

Dan Heng shakes his head. “You… you don’t have to.”

The hell? Does he even know how Christmas works? “Of course I do, come on,” you push forward. Knowing you’ve already forgotten where you’ve parked, he strides out in front of you and leads the way, preparing to argue his case. “We’ll put these in the back, and I’ll find you an amazing gift, you’ll see.”

You both reach his little beat-up sedan (which you’ve aptly named Granny), while he fumbles for his keys. He sighs, rolling the frigid joints in his shoulders as he opens the driver’s seat to unlock the trunk. Setting the bags down on the gross pavement is unfortunately inevitable. You throw the thing open, already loading. 

Dan Heng’s rebuttal is almost startling.

“I don’t need an ‘amazing gift’. I have you.”

You freeze. Where did he pull that from? Are you hallucinating again? Is this like the time you stayed up for two days straight to half-ass a dozen unfinished assignments? Or maybe it’s selective hearing… such a line is probably from an old romcom that you’re mentally regurgitating and then projecting onto him.

But you don’t tease or ask him to repeat it. Instead, you choose to fully believe and embrace that compliment, warming your heart and your cheeks. His expression is obscured from your position, but he probably looks the same.

“I’m… really glad you think so, Dan Heng,” you almost whisper.

Before he can say anything else that’ll ruin the moment, you decide that’s your job! and slam the trunk closed, deafeningly loud. 

“But that’s unacceptable! I’ll find you something perfect in the coming days no matter what!”

You hear him sigh before you hear his approaching footsteps. “Try not to stress too hard about it. Also, open that back up, there are more bags.”

“Oops,” you giggle. “Why not ask me nicely, like in that Romeo way you did five seconds ago?”

Your other half rightfully elects to ignore you.

As you finish wrapping up with him at your side, the subsequent ride back to campus is in comfortable silence. The buzz of what’s to come lingers on your mind as you stare out of the passenger window at the familiar scenery. You’ll find time to squeeze in finding a gift for Dan Heng, you’ll make sure of it. 

But for now, what to pack for the impending trip…?

You wake to the sound of your blaring alarm. Scrambling for your phone to make the thing shut up, you’re blinded by the time. It’s 2:30 in the morning, you’re disoriented, and you desperately want to go back to sleep. But when you really come to a minute later after hitting snooze, it all sinks in. 

Your room inspection is over with, your finals have been taken (you didn’t fail any of them, yay), and you have to leave campus with Dan Heng in about thirty minutes. Surreal that you’re awake at this hour, you go about getting ready - this includes texting the man of the hour to make sure he didn’t oversleep.

To your satisfaction, he responds swiftly. To your horror, he mentions that he’s ready and waiting. Unfair, in your opinion - why is he always punctual, and why are you always late?

You look in the mirror at your haphazard reflection. Not too shabby; just a leisure t-shirt and some sweatpants, pulled together by the thickest jacket you have since it’s grown even colder out. Your bags are already packed and practically bursting at the seams, loaded with your essentials, and of course the presents for Dan Heng’s family. 

You spent all of your free time crammed between everything else painting the ceramics while he wrapped and made everything else look pretty.

(You almost got crudely mixed pink paint on your dorm wall - well, you did just a little bit. Luckily it came off without the need to go sprinting to the nearest hardware store in pursuit of a cover-up job. That would have been bad. Very bad. Also, you left the primary suite door open to ventilate, and at least three students walking down the hallway witnessed your perfectionism-driven breakdown. Also, your suitemate hates you now.)

All of that’s over, though. Making sure you have everything once, then twice, then three whole times - you decide it’s finally time to go. You lug everything out of your dorm, down the hallway, into the elevator, and wait as it descends.

You check your phone, updating your boyfriend as the cabin grinds to a halt on the ground floor. Outside is nothing short of beautiful, if not hypothermic.

Snow falls in tiny flurries that make the dark cement purgatory look like a dream. The floodlights leave some corners of the parking lot shadowed, but illuminate Dan Heng just right. You spot him and his old ass car smack dab in the middle of all the empty spaces, just about everyone having vacated already.

“Hi, darling,” your breath syncs with the air as a wispy cloud. You kiss his cheek. “You ready?”

“I have been for the better part of an hour,” he informs you, perhaps a little grumpy from waking up so early - or it could just be that wry sarcasm rearing its head.

You find that Dan Heng is neither an early bird nor a night owl, oscillating between the two like nobody’s business. He’s up when he needs to be, including now, softened under the touch of your lips. 

And so, without much fanfare, the road trip commences. It’s notably different than the other times he’s chauffeured you around - so silent and grave. It kind of puts a damper on the Christmas spirit you’ve so painstakingly adopted, but you think twice about cranking the radio. He is the one driving, after all.  

You offered to switch with him halfway, and to his credit, he thought about it. But then Dan Heng politely shook his head and muttered something about bad weather and hydroplaning. Whatever a hydroplane is, you aren’t sure what it has to do with you being untrustworthy behind the wheel. 

The pleasant blast of the heater, the occasional robotic warbling from the GPS app, and the noise of the light drizzle outside are your more talkative companions. You’re getting antsy; you feel it in the bouncing of your leg and how you mindlessly chew on the dead skin of your bottom lip. 

Should you try to ignore it? Put on your headphones and tune out? The thought is appealing. 

Instead, you pipe up a few minutes before you’re due to turn on the interstate.

“Wanna get coffee?” you singsong. “I mean, you especially are going to need the caffeine to keep awake. Sleep deprivation is, like, the number three reason people get into car crashes.”

Dan Heng huffs in amusement. You’re glad that got some kind of reaction out of him, glad that the stoney silence has been broken. But if you’re being completely honest with yourself (which you really hate doing), this detour suggestion is just an excuse to delay the inevitable. For all of your joy, lingering anxiety chips away at your trademark smirk. 

You decide to bribe him just a little. “I’m buying.”

He turns into the nearest place without any further prodding. The coffee, which you have successfully paid for by the way, is nice. The searing light of the menu options, clambering over Dan Heng to place your orders as loud as you can because you know it’s hard for them to hear anything - fleeting memories of taking orders at your high school part-time job and all that. 

As you take the cup holder tray from your partner, ferried through the drive thru window, he speaks up, much to your chagrin.

“You’re nervous,” he says, leaving no room for doubt. You continue to situate the drinks and glance into the side view mirror, taking a sudden rapt interest in the line forming behind you.

You decide to lie. Maybe he’ll be merciful and let you work this one out on your own. “Me? Nervous? Whatever gives you that impression? Perhaps you needed the coffee more than I thought… poor Dan Heng, so tired that he’s hallucinating…” you whistle.

Gaslighting, unfortunately, doesn’t work. Persuasion check must’ve rolled off. Dan Heng says your name, soft but stilted in a way that makes your heart ache. He rolls out of the drive thru after checking the rearview mirror, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. They gain their color back after he realizes you’re staring at them.

“I’m nervous too. Extremely.” You’re back on the highway, and you fiddle with the GPS to get yourself back en route, taking in his words as they come. Dan Heng is being candid with you; encouraging. “Going back home is always an… ordeal.”

You deflate a bit, conflict warring on your face. Considering how flustered he gets when you dote on him, albeit within his limits, you can’t imagine how exhausting being fussed at from all angles would be. Not like he’s a kid, but that he’s returning home after another semester of being independent.

“Yeah, um, I can imagine. I don’t know much about that stuff, but it’ll probably be amplified with me coming with you. We’ll get through it together and have a great time.”

You say it to convince yourself more than him, but it works. Perhaps that was his plan all along?

“Yes,” agrees Dan Heng. “We will.”

The interstate stretch, predictably, is the most sizable chunk of the trip. Temptation whispers in your ears tantalizingly, the idea of a nap or two at the forefront of your sleep-addled mind. The soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windshield battling with the snow makes it even harder to resist.

So, you doze soundly in your reclined seat, nice and warm. You think you feel a hand, cold and calloused, brushing against your cheek, but fighting it would require waking up to demand he focus on the road! It retracts, and you’re out for a good long while.

You know that for a fact, because when you wake up, dawn is encroaching. The stars are still visible against the bleeding horizon. You feel much better, even if Dan Heng suppresses a smile at your expense - you seriously must look wrecked from a few simple hours of rest. Geez.

You yawn, waking up to chat. Your boyfriend looks unruffled, cool eyes scanning road signs for a place to apparently fuel up.

He tells you that there’s only about an hour or so left, the ETA checking out. Nerves flood your system, but after a deep breath and stepping out to stretch your legs, you feel better.

“Who knew you were so good at pep talks,” you tease, if not to hide the fact you’re completely enamored with him. You fill up the tank after he cuts the engine, purposefully yelling so he can hear your words through the rolled up windows. “My man, the motivator!”

You hear his ensuing groan, claiming mental victory as the pump dings. Easy. 

Staring at the signs of his hometown, a foreign sense of wonder engulfs you as you split from the interstate. Has that diner been there since Dan Heng was a kid? Did he even spend all of his childhood in one place? Should you ask, or is that too invasive? 

The trees lining the grassy outcrops are tiny and thin, likely just having been planted by the city. How much has changed since you’ve started monopolizing his time?

Your questions spill out, and he does his best to answer them - but he also seems nostalgic, wistful and pained. Your earlier revelation rings true; you don’t know much about Dan Heng’s past.

That’s slowly changing as he tells you some stories, though his words are messy and create a muddled image in your head. You don’t push too far, chattering his ear off in response to keep things lighthearted. 

(Maybe you’ll be more open about yourself too. Maybe.)

Then you careen into a residential area. It’s more suburban than you expected for a city-town hybrid of this size, streets of apartment units and then gated communities of houses. You whistle because you’re almost there, you can feel it!

“Which one is it, huh?” you pester, practically pressing your face against the glass. “Come on, pick up the pace a little!”

“I am not keen on getting a ticket this far in. A few more turns.”

True to his word, a row of townhouses come into view. They’re not massive, but the few you see are brimming with character. Full, decadent awnings and aged brick matched with just the right colors to make your brain happy. They look lived in, filled with memories that you’re eager to digest and, hopefully, be a part of.

Dan Heng pulls into the driveway of the oldest-looking one and parks. The GPS drones on, informing you of your arrival. Your anxiety has almost entirely abated at this point, thank the heavens and stars, and it’s near time to face the music with open arms.

“What a nice place! I guess we should greet them, and then start unloading?”

He nods. It’s still cold out, but less so than at school. Stepping out onto the pavement gives you a little thrill, and you trail behind Dan Heng, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets as you stare at the front door.

It has a little brass knocker in lieu of a doorbell, and you reach out to grasp it on instinct. Your hand brushes his that had reached out at the same time.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him. 

He sighs and finally knocks after you reel your grubby hand back. It all comes down to this - kind of anticlimactic from someone else’s perspective, but paramount from yours. Who will answer the door?

The answer is immediate: Welt. The thing creaks open, revealing a tall, older man with graying brown hair and glasses. He’s utilizing a cane and looks exactly like you imagined, distinguished and fitting right into the scene with his creme turtleneck and kind eyes. He regards you both, first Dan Heng, then you. 

“You’re here early. Welcome back - and I see you’ve brought them, as promised,” Welt’s voice is warm, and you get the feeling the small smile he’s wearing is quite rare. “Come in, we’ve been waiting on you two. It’s an honor to meet Dan Heng’s esteemed partner.”

You’re utterly awestruck, responses forming on your tongue only to dissolve into garbled nothings. As you robotically follow inside, you watch as Dan Heng falls into an awkward-looking side hug with Welt - quickly averting your eyes so they can have a moment. Then, you can’t contain it anymore, speaking to your heart’s content.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot - well, not a lot, but enough,” you ramble unapologetically, taking in the decor of the foyer, “and I’m really excited to be here, you have no idea. Are those Ray Bans? You have a lovely home!”

Your boyfriend, wetting his chapped lips, communicates silently with Welt. You think it’s something like a greeting, a familial synergy you can’t quite grasp yet. Maybe it’s a warning: I am dating an idiot chatterbox, please be nice to them. 

That seems unlikely; necessitates further observation. This is just like Animal Planet. 

“Thank you, I recognize your sincerity. It’s a rare trait, these days,” he mutters mostly to himself, probably reminiscing on some mysterious past. He goes on to curtly answer your more frivolous questions while leading the two of you deeper inside. Dan Heng squeezes your hand and you share your own telepathic glance with him. 

This is going well!

The interior of the living room is striking, bearing the marks of age and care. You recognize most of the furniture as antiques - leather couches and loveseats with beautiful upholstery, a sage grandfather clock standing tall near the stone fireplace, and overflowing bookshelves that’d satiate even the most voracious of readers.

Paintings adorn every wall, not a square inch left blank. The mantle boasts many trinkets and baubles of various cultures, some of which you recognize - and some of which you don’t. Those could definitely be a great conversation starter! 

So charming, so quaint, so rich in history! You’d wax poetic and stare at each nifty little thing until your eyes bled if you could.

“Darling, I didn’t know you were so well-off! Maybe I should start calling you Mr. Old Money.” “...please don’t.”

Welt hides a chuckle in his gloved hand before surveying the room. “It seems everyone is doing their own thing. I’ll go get Himeko, she must be in her study,” he throws a look over his shoulder, uttering your name with just the right amount of phlegm. “Welcome. Don’t be afraid to make yourself at home.”

And you’re left alone to breathe for a short minute. You run your thumb over Dan Heng’s knuckles reverently, pondering aloud. “He’s so cool! He’s an animator, right? I’ve heard you mention something like that before.”

He nods. “Indeed. He’s worked on various pitch bibles for all kinds of IPs, but he’s more content on assuming quieter roles in the industry, or so he’s told us. His passion is what carries him, not the spotlight.”

“...that’s a great way to live,” you marvel. The air feels vulnerable after that, the nature of something as intangible as family running through the undercurrents of the house. “Do you think he’s right for being so humble?”

“It is not my place to comment, but… I can say that I look up to him,” he admits, giving your hand a shy squeeze. “Himeko is similar. She’s--” “--enthralled to finally meet your acquaintance?” 

A new voice cuts in. Himeko is also a vision, donning a winter shawl that wraps around a sepia-colored dress with tights, topped off with a beret. She looks absolutely stunning, and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to compliment her profusely. She stands at a comparable height to Welt, expression softened with mirth.

“It’s long since overdue,” Himeko extends a handshake which you take. Your jaw must be scraping the floor, which Welt and Dan Heng see fit to ignore.

She whips a ruby curl out of her face to scrutinize you - shit, you probably should’ve worn something nicer. First impressions and all that!

She greets Dan Heng with a hardy embrace after letting your hand go. He stands rigid.

“I was beginning to think he was making you up,” she teases. “When you both settle in, we have a lot to catch up on. Can we help you with your bags?”

You grin at your boyfriend, nudging him with your elbow. “Whaddya say, huh?”

He nods, shoulders slumping as if he’s made it past some great obstacle. 

“Great,” Welt interjects, heading back towards the front door with Himeko in tow. Dan Heng turns to you, voice akin to a whisper.

“March and Caelus are probably in their bedrooms or,” he sighs, “conspiring elsewhere. If you’d like, you can go on and look around while we deal with the luggage. It’s a lot to get used to, and you’re better off getting your curiosity out of your system.”

You gasp, splaying a hand over your heart. “You say that like I’m some unruly child! I’m not going to break anything…”

Dan Heng gives you a look.

“...this time,” you begrudgingly add.

Before he can hurry after them though, you gingerly (roughly) grab him by the collar and give him a smooch. It’s over as quick as it began, and you barely get a glimpse of his scandalized visage before you set off to explore. 

The adjoining hallway leading you out of the living room is painted stark white, all kinds of framed photographs hanging on display. Most of them are noir shots of famous people; movie stars, historical figures and the like. You stop in your tracks to look each of them over.

Some aren’t so impersonal. For example, there’s one of Himeko standing in a train station, posing on the platform with a massive and austere steam locomotive behind her. There is also a gray-haired dude at her side, pointing at the train with an exaggerated expression of shock. Caelus. And the photo’s signature - March 7th. 

Right on time, before you can continue snooping, you hear the distinct noise of bickering further down the hallway. You grin, sensing drama like a blood-sniffing shark. 

The muffled racket becomes clearer as you approach what is probably a bedroom door, and you hesitate for only a second before not-rudely throwing it open. You can deal with the consequences later. After all, this sounds more like banter than a serious argument - you would know!

The first thing you see are two figures with their backs turned to you. Pink and gray hair hunched over a desk - Caelus sitting and clicking furiously with March pointing at the one of the three flashing monitors, posing a threat to this hell of a gamer setup.

“You actually suck at this! Log off already, Dan Heng and his guest are going to be here soon,” she chastises as Caelus huffs, him dying moments later (in Pac-Man of all things). “Seriously, this is as boring as watching paint dry. I don’t know how you have so many viewers…”

You blink, scrutinizing the monitors again. Yes, there’s Pac-Man, but there’s also a live chat that seems to be going crazy, dozens of messages burying even more dozens of messages. There’s a facecam too, framing all three of you - wait, three? 

Oops. You’re live on Twitch.

“March is just a grade-A hater,” Caelus declares to his audience, “always betting against me. I’ll have all of you know that I, Whisperer of Dumpsters, Toilet Destroyer--”

A groan. “Not this again.”

They seem oblivious to the fact that you’re here, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. Clippers must be going nuts right about now…

Dan Heng never mentioned that Caelus took this career path - but then again, you can imagine he was trying to avoid the headache of you pestering him with stream references. Either way, you’re here now, and you’ll be damned if you pass up an opportunity this golden.

“They’ve been keeping me in the basement for three years!” you yell, causing both of them to jump and turn in bewilderment, “They’re frauds, kidnappers, liars--”

“We’ve been what?!” March shrieks. She’s either 1.) quickly adjusting to your improv and playing along or 2.) now wholeheartedly convinced that you’ve been held captive here under the floorboards.

The chat lags from how fast messages are coming in, and Caelus cackles maniacally before mashing a shortcut on his keyboard to switch to a Be Right Back screen. What a performance, and you also burst out in laughter, not unlike his. 

“Well, you certainly uh… made an entrance,” March grimaces, looking only slightly mortified. That sourness fades into a friendly smile as she scratches the back of her head. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Oh my god, c’mere!”

Caelus stares at you with beady eyes as she bounds towards your form in the doorway, engulfing you in a giant hug. You feel like crying again. This was supposed to be unserious, but you can’t help but already feel at home. 

“It’s nice to meet you too. Your hair clips are so cute!” 

You exchange pleasantries for a moment before you hear creaking. Caelus has stood up now, an unreadable expression on his face as he approaches slowly - like molasses slowly. One menacing stomp in front of the other like he’s trying to intimidate a bear. You tilt your head curiously while March spins around to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Group hug. Bring it in,” he answers cryptically.

March wrinkles her nose. “Why do you sound like that? You’ll creep them out!”

Caelus turns to you, looking for confirmation. Immediately, you understand what you must do. This chemistry you share with this kindred spirit should be studied in a lab under a microscope.

“Collective embrace,” you parrot. “Bring it in.”

“...so you’re both weird, huh? Just great.”

You respond by smushing both of them in a crushing hug, a chorus of giggles echoing off the walls, all three of you being the perpetrators. 

This year’s holidays are off to a great start.

Things surprisingly don’t drag on. 

What that means is a little hard to quantify; nebulous like carbon monoxide. You can’t see it, you can’t taste it, but it certainly takes its toll. 

The first day comes to a close after a shared dinner, a feast, really - you’d never seen so much food in your life and you scarfed it down like a starving man in between conversation on every topic under the sun. You’ve fallen into the swing of things so naturally, and while that’s good, it’s a little too good.

You’ve never considered anxiety to be a formidable foe in your life. You carry conversation, pass the cornbread, spice up everyone’s lives (sometimes at the detriment of your reputation), and most importantly, you do it with a smile.

But after a night or two spent in Dan Heng’s almost spartan bedroom, tossing and turning, you’re starting to believe you’re in more trouble than you thought previously.

The nerves are easy to suppress when you’re bouncing energy off someone else, lost in the moment, because you do truly enjoy the socializing - but that feeling lingers.

And when you’re left with nothing to do, staring at the ceiling with a vengeance on the third night of your stay, all of the doubt catches up. It gains ground until your heart thunders in your chest.

You’ve learned that Himeko is buddy-buddy with the department of transportation, doubling as an engineer and cartographer. She’s even had a part in restoring defunct trains to their former glory, spearheading many vacations along the way. 

(You don’t deserve to be privy to such a meaningful story.) 

Caelus can’t ride a bike. Neither can you. Upon coming to this seismic revelation, he offered to take the plunge with you in an attempt to learn if you were interested. You agreed before he could even get the full sentence out. 

(You’re only good at goofing around.)

March insisted that you be a temporary proofreader for her own university essays, most of which being on topics you could never wrap your head around in a million years.

Shenanigans ensued until you ended up denouncing higher education as a whole, choosing to believe in her own freestyle structure rather than whatever hellish rubric was being peddled. 

(You’re too airheaded to help in a normal way.)

You’ve even grown closer with Welt. You two listened to the crackling of the old gramophone in his respective study, chiming in with your own thoughts on his archaic but classic music taste. There was a little bit of discussion on media preservation, your earnest passion pairing well with his own. 

(You’re coming off too strong.)

But you feel the worst about the man sleeping next to you. 

You’re supposed to be in your highest spirits, but Dan Heng has gotten good at spotting your tells. The tightness of your smile comes off as overjoyed to your new friends, but strained to him. The guilt of possibly ruining it all is unforgiving, tightened about your neck like an evil scarf.

He knows something’s up, and you know that he knows. It’s on you for not being forward about your struggles - hell, you’ve scolded him countless times about how he clams up about feelings and all that mess. You’re just a little bit of a hypocrite, then. What would you even say on the subject?

Sorry I’m such a buzzkill? Sorry I haven’t been more open with you? Sorry that I’m the actual wors--

You muffle a sob, burying your face in Dan Heng’s pillow. You just need to calm down, even if that means getting snot on his nice shams. You hiccup, and to your muted horror, the mattress creaks with movement.

Voice rough with sleep and alarm, Dan Heng calls out to you. You tense but otherwise refuse to lift your head up from your comfy sanctuary, chest rising and falling in snappy bursts.

You can’t face him like this, so tangled in everything you feel. You feel so unbelievably guilty, even if a more sensible part of you knows you’re just overthinking.

“Please look at me.”

If you’re making comparisons, Dan Heng must be the wind. Gentle and mild like a calming gale, never a torrent eager to knock you off your feet. No, he is sobering like a wayward breeze. His plea is so soft, and you only hate yourself a little bit for giving in and meeting his eyes.

His hair is sticking up in every direction just like yours. It’s not a foreign sight - you’ve slept in the same bed at least a hundred times, but the worried frown tugging at his lips is new. You sniffle and wipe your face, words a jumble of nonsense.

“Try to breathe. It’s going to be alright,” he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll wait.”

That last part might sound impatient in some other context, but right now, it’s resolute - it’s a promise. He’ll wait until you’re ready, however long that will take.

You crumble, shakily inhaling and exhaling until you sit up to mirror his stance. You fumble to embrace him, which he accepts readily - not unused to your spontaneous acts of affection. 

However, there’s a stutter in his movements. He’s not used to seeing you so put out, you hazard, unable to even produce coherent speech.

“I love you so much,” you gasp.

“...is that what this is about? Or is there more?”

Dan Heng strokes your hair through your tearful explanation. You know you don’t make a lot of sense right now, but it’s all you can manage. He still listens with scholarly attention to detail, not doting or prying. He’s here. He’s here for you, just like you are for him.

The dam has burst. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“No,” he admits. “Do you want to?”

So you tell him enough. You only paint a vague picture; recounting endless disagreements and fighting, being kicked to the curb and ostracized, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your barely adult life before being thrusted into college all alone with no one to watch out for you. You’ve only dropped hints beforehand - after all, who wants to reopen old wounds? 

Silence can be just as powerful of a response as spoken words. Dan Heng understands, you know that already, but the way he holds you is compelling evidence alone.

Dan Heng’s family is wonderful; being part of it makes you feel a little sick inside, somehow made worse by his ministrations. “It may be unfair of me to say, but… I think I know how you feel. My life before I came to live and travel with everyone was lonely. Lonely and painful, and you don’t deserve to feel that way. Ever.”

When you don’t respond, he continues. 

“But I’m now content to call them my cherished companions. And you,” Dan Heng emphasizes, syllables unsure despite his best efforts, “are one of them as well. We haven’t pried too much into what is painful, but I’ve always felt like we’ve never needed to. That was my mistake.”

He makes a point of thumbing the residue of your episode away, an apology in and of itself. Of course he blames solely himself, you muse, biting back a playful reprimand that wouldn’t land well right now. Your breathing regains a semblance of normalcy as you muster up enough gusto to respond. 

“No, don’t be silly. I want to talk to you more about our lives before each other, I think. Together, y’know? I-Isn’t that just so romantic? Being emotionally constipated doesn’t do either of us any favors.” 

Your tone has lightened, enough for him to notice and furrow his brows in concern. Given, you rebound at the speed of light, never wishing to linger on the bad - partially because sadness is unpleasant and uncommon, but mostly because you feel like you’re unable to. That’s just how you are. However, the way he looks at you is encouragement enough to move forward.

You feel better, you do, but your eyes are still red and puffy. The night outside is still cold and unpredictable.

“Whatever you need,” Dan Heng nods. He can only be so sworn in his promises - so determined - before you crack a smile.

“Alright, easy on the white knight talk,” you chuckle. Realizing how close you actually are, there’s a pause. You can smell the mint of his shampoo, and your arms are tangled with his in some kind of human knot that’d have Houdini sweating. “It’s weird…”

He stares at you, unimpressed. “I thought you wanted me to talk to you in a ‘Romeo’ way.”

You only huff, unable to come up with a retort for once, which is fine. You wipe your face again and drag him down with you back onto the bed, which he allows, because Dan Heng is too good for you and also happens to be a complete pushover. At least you can use your frazzled, unstable emotional state to get what you want.

Case in point: you spoon him. The covers assume their original position after you wrangle them to behave, holding him close from behind. A little part of you does this so he can’t see if you start up the waterworks again, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’ll be alright,” Dan Heng reminds, surrendering to your whims as always.

The dust settles and you’re inclined to believe him. There is still much time left, with Christmas day being the focal point of your visit, and you’re starting to get sleepy again. That’s always a good sign; sleepy, relaxed, and with a head drained of pressing worries - at least for the present moment.

Your eyes close, bereft of tears as you murmur your agreement.

To your surprise and horror, this house didn’t have a Christmas tree. It’s not like it mattered that much, but it was still shocking nonetheless. With a building exploding with life, there wasn't an evergreen decked out in ornaments or a pine covered in lights to tie the room together.

Honestly, where were they going to put their presents? 

However, you forgave this transgression a day or two later under the condition that you would be allowed to pick one out. Everyone seemed to be fine with it, with you offering to cover the cost this close to the 25th - and your determined expression that would’ve been pointless to argue with. Santa Claus works hard but you work harder.

Caelus and March jumped to go with you, much to the others’ relief, and that was more than enough hands on deck for you to hop in Caelus’s car and drive to the nearest tree farm in the dead of winter, borrowing some mittens and a cute knitted hat from March so you wouldn’t become a human popsicle before your 30s.

Uh, you did get a bit lost. You had to interrogate the shit out of the GPS and one poor local to get there; the latter was not your fault by the way! Caelus just so happened to be carrying a bat and had a concerning look in his eye. That put you in good enough standing to make it there, even if the selection of trees were picked over, leaving only the runts on sale.

All three of you turned away with your hands empty, opting to make a last minute shopping trip to the mall to buy a fake one. You were against it, but your suggestion to buy three small trees and place them really close together was vetoed. “Majority rules” is totes unfair…

But the mall trip turned into a lot more when you actually got there. Both of them ganged up on you with a reminder that you haven’t gotten Dan Heng a gift yet! Honestly, you could say you regret confessing that to them earlier, but you totally needed to hear it.

Imagine you, waking up on Christmas morning with nothing to give the love of your life! Deplorable, unforgivable, and tragically heartbreaking. 

And you had a council there to help you; people that know Dan Heng just as well as you do. 

“He’s so hard to shop for,” March had groaned, flicking through racks of clothes with a dark aura surrounding her. “Trust me, I’ve tried in the past. He always says he’s fine with anything, giving me zero hints…”

“Maybe get him nothing,” Caelus suggested after, more occupied with trying to steal coins from the nearby wishing fountain. Like one does. “You could run him over and he’d thank you politely.”

Similar experiences there. He’s always been more attuned to your wants than his own, which you’ve been trying to get him to work on at his own pace. Unfortunately, the place was about to close for the night since you already spent the day gallivanting around.

The burly mall security guard looked dangerously close to kicking your trio out, with at least one of you kicking and screaming, so you had to leave empty handed again. 

The others assured you that you’d find a present in time. You decided to go with the flow and hope that the heavens above would drop one into your lap by the day of.

Spoiler alert: they didn’t! Because Christmas day is now here, and it all seems hopeless. Well, aside from the fact that you’re all settled around the coffee table and a big, burning fire is roaring in the fireplace. 

There’s still a smile on your face as Welt and Himeko tear open their presents with wise, softened gazes. You can’t let your own mistakes ruin the moment, after all.

“Truly, thank you both,” Himeko croons, looking over her respective mug and brooch with awe. “I was prepared to perhaps play up the excitement a bit, but… I’m very impressed. Dan Heng, you’ve picked well.”

He flushes. “They helped me,” he nods to you.

“No,” she laughs, “I meant you picked a good partner.”

Before you can stammer out a reply, Welt chimes in. He’s inspecting the quality of his tie with muted gratitude - his new mug seems to only serve as a reminder that he has to drink Himeko’s coffee out of it. Hey, at least your heart was in the right place!

“I have to agree. Both of you must have collaborated seamlessly to shop for our preferences.” 

Caelus, wearing his big ass jacket that you and Dan Heng bought him, sprawls out across one of the couches like a housecat. “This is a lot better than what you got me last year, Cold Dragon Young.”

Dan Heng bristles and you burst out laughing at the expression he’s making. “Cold Dragon what?”

“Ignore them,” he pleads, lips twitching upward just a smidge; a ghost of a smile. Dan Heng really does like the teasing more than he lets on. 

March was almost reduced to tears by the jewelry dish you painted for her - which is more of a jewelry box at this point - but she recovers from her reverie and endless thank yous to giggle at your partner’s expense, something that’s swiftly turning into a group effort. “One time, we all got roped into fistfighting these bad guys in a club, and after Dan Heng took care of them--”

“I was left with no other choice--”

“--then that became his ring name. Cold Dragon Young!” she finishes. 

Himeko and Welt exchange an exhausted look. You immediately decide that the moniker is going to become his contact name in your phone until the end of time. You also start wheezing (and also kind of blushing) at the idea of Dan Heng, the near-pacifist, duking it out with someone. “S-Sounds like you guys have been everywhere…”

“...we have,” your boyfriend clears his throat. You sense a topic change, or even a segue, drawing your attention. You sit up a little straighter and wipe the comically-induced hysteria from your eyes. 

He’s looking at you expectantly with some of the earlier heat coloring the tips of his ears. The room lulls into silence as he makes his way over to the tree to retrieve a box from underneath the branches, wrapped in pastel yellow with no bow.

Dan Heng hands it over, and when your skin brushes against his for a fleeting second, you feel the clamminess of his palms.

“Oh, me next?” you blink. Shaking the thing a bit too aggressively, listening for any indication of a bomb (just in case), you get a good feel of its weight. Light and mysterious. You’re too busy making mental guesses that you don’t notice Welt shepherding the others out of the room.

“Yes. I hope you like it,” he watches as you tear open the wrapping paper and the box itself. Dan Heng is so beautiful it’s almost criminal, unintentionally batting his lashes in a way that has you swallowing drool.

You scoff. “Of course I will!”

Inside the box rests… two tickets? Your mind jumps to movie tickets first and foremost, but that’s obviously not the case; the ones here are golden with faded ridges and accented with red, sparkling as you fawn over them. Then you read the printed text lining the bottom of the thin cardstock.

The Astral Express. They’re two boarding passes.

“No way,” It’s the name of the restored steam locomotive in the picture, the very same one that Himeko told you about working on during the height of her career. “Does this mean…?”

Dan Heng drinks in the surprised part of your lips, scratching at his neck. “You mentioned that you wanted to travel. I, and the rest of us, thought you’d like to accompany us on a trip. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly fine,” he promises. “I can get refunded, and we’ll all stay. But it’s scheduled to start the day after tomorrow and last until the new year.”

You don’t want to cry again, even if they’re happy tears, so you launch yourself into his arms as a welcome distraction. You may be imagining it, but you think you feel him slump in relief. Again. How long will it take to get it through his thick skull that he could never disappoint you?

“Duh, of course I want to! Darling, what kind of jerk would I be if I said no and made everyone cancel their plans? Oh my god, oh my god--”

“You m-may want to breathe.”

His concern is so genuine - that’s not even meant to be teasing. You scream into his shoulder, already thinking of nights spent in velvet cabins and days spent watching the cross-country scenery go by on the silver rail. With good food. Lots of it. 

“I’m breathing,” you huff, in fact, short of breath. “Thank you, Dan Heng. I love it so much.”

You pull back, box and tickets still safe in your grasp despite your earlier flailing. The magical moment fizzles, your joy stunted as guilt emerges. “But I… I didn’t get you anything. I’m so sorry, we shopped all over, and everything’s been so hectic…”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I meant what I said.”

“Huh?”

“When we were shopping all that time ago,” he clarifies. “I don’t need anything but you. And with the others coming along,” Dan Heng gestures to the tickets, everyone else’s likely stowed away somewhere safe, “It’s the best gift I could ask for, more than I could ever want.”

You don’t rebut him this time.

The guilt has all but vanished, and you pull Dan Heng into a tender kiss. This has, no joke, probably been the best break of your life so far. Not to mention you have a whole new trip to look forward to, with a whole new family at your side.

Just as you think this perfect moment is unshakable, hoots and jeers break out from behind you. You whip around, dazed, and Caelus is cheering both of you on like his life depends on it.

“Wooooo! I told you they’d like it, dude! May your love burn bright for years to co--”

…then March clamps a hand over his mouth and hauls him away. 

Dan Heng is so embarrassed that he chokes on a laugh. You make sure to join him in kind, the present moment also holding the infinite possibilities of the future.

thank you for reading! it means the world to me 🎅🎁 on ao3

[strwberrybils]

hiiiii can i pls request something where the reader accidentally sends hobie her lingerie pics? or her bikini pics? look at claudia tihan’s instagram pics for what i’m saying. thank you <33

OOPS, WRONG PERSON! | h. brown.

“no…doesn’t look right.” you sucked your teeth with a frown, picking apart the images you just took of yourself, clicking delete hastily with a sigh. you wanted to like the photo, but the way you were posing wasn’t really to your liking, and you were trying hard to feel confident in the brand new lingerie you had just bought.

you had went out with your girlfriends, browsing throughout the mall as you blew your recent paycheck on clothes and makeup, your knowledge of the repercussions being ignored as you swiftly swiped your card for whatever items your heart desired. it was ecstasy to you, buying things that you actually liked, and you were really starting to crack out of your comfort zone when you found a beautiful lingerie set from victoria’s secret. it was accented with pretty white trimmings, little pink ribbons on the top, the panties silky and comfortable. you purchased the set with no regrets, walking out of that mall with a dirty smile wiped on your face.

posing in front of the mirror now was your biggest challenge. every way your body turned didn’t seem to look right to you, and your frustration started to grow inside of you until an idea sparked in your head.

you dropped to your calves and sat back onto your thighs, hips twisting to the left slightly as you flipped your hair to the side, pouted into the mirror and clicking the photo button.

the picture came out adorable, so you decided to press send to one of your girlfriends so they could see how it looked on you, and that’s when your eyes widened.

sent to my brit boyfriend 🤍.

you gasped, rapidly clicking the message in an attempt to delete it.

you and your lovely boyfriend had only been together a month. it wasn’t that you weren’t comfortable with him seeing you like this, but it was all so soon, and it wasn’t even on purpose. but it was too late, your frantic tapping was deemed useless when you saw that he had read the message, and now he was typing.

he quickly typed back, and your eyes gleamed with embarrassment as you texted him.

my brit boyfriend 🤍; Love, did you mean to send that to me?

you: i’m so sorry hobie….i didn’t mean to send you that, i was trying to send it to one of my girlfriends. you can ignore it.

my brit boyfriend 🤍; You want me to ignore it? I’ll delete it if you didn’t want me to see it, it’s no problem darlin

you: no no, you can keep it if you like it…i don’t mind…i just didn’t mean to send it ugh this is embarrassing

my brit boyfriend 🤍; You look gorgeous..wasn’t gonna say nothin because I didn’t know if you wanted me to, but you look good as shit

you: ☺️ are you serious?? i just bought it & and i didn’t know if it looked nice…

my brit boyfriend 🤍; Thinkin’ it’ll look better on the floor but that’s jus my opinion

you: HOBIE.

my brit boyfriend 🤍; You asked for my opinion and I gave it to ya love, is there a problem?

you: no problem handsome… come over?

my brit boyfriend 🤍; On my way.

[sleepynoons]

nagumo yoichi x gn!reader, sfw, not beta read

cw: slight suggestive content, explicit language

notes: wait if you catch several typos/grammar mistakes, that's not on me, that's on ellipsus for constantly glitching out today and preventing me from making edits. this is a drabble, too, and i don't proofread those oops. anyway, i thought it'd be funny if nagumo also got into a relationship the same way sakamoto and aoi got together. i also think it's hilarious that the npcs in this series don't give a fuck lol. nagumo also comes off as weird af at first LMAO wait this was kinda meant to satisfy my belief that nagumo has a sleeper build iykwim - wait i'm realizing there are several references + tidbits in this piece so it'd be funny if y'all catch anything hehe

"WELCOME!"

greeting customers is arguably the least rewarding thing about your job. most people who walk in ignore you, some even look annoyed, and you hate public speaking in the first place. you think you lose five minutes of your life every single time you raise your voice, and those five minutes have probably accumulated to years by now.

you sigh. it can't be helped. another part-timer recently quit, and you can't possibly let the manager of this convenience store, an elderly man in his 60s, take on additional night shifts when he's already handling the early mornings.

besides, there are some pros. since the store is located near a university and a residential area, there are familiar faces. there's a group of computer science students that often drop by, and they play the occasional harmless prank on you. there's also that mother-daughter pair that buys frozen taiyakis every saturday as a reward for the daughter for finishing her weekly violin lesson. and perhaps the most intriguing of them all is a man that pops by every three days around midnight.

he wears the same tan trench coat, along with a loose patterned button-up and black pants. before winter set in, he always went straight to the freezer to fish out a popsicle, bar already in his mouth as he walked over to pay, but in the past two weeks, he's been opting for a cup of hot coffee and small packets of candy instead.

it seems he's craving sour gummies today. with a swift swipe of your arm, you grab and scan the barcode on the back of the plastic bag, and type in the amount for his drink.

"your total's ¥600."

"no discounts for your most loyal customer?"

startled, you freeze, determined to avoid eye contact. you've had conversations with other customers before, but never with him. he's always left as quickly as he came, so you're caught off-guard by this unexpected interaction.

"u-uh, not this time, sorry. i can ask the manager if we have a loyalty program, if you want."

the man hums as he nods happily and hands you two ¥500 coins. his unbothered smile unnerves you a bit, so you count the difference and return the loose change in personal record time.

but he doesn't leave, and instead, asks, "any thoughts on getting hitched?"

your spit-take's almost comical, but the absurdity of the situation takes precedent. "w-what now?"

"one of my co-workers recently got married to a convenience store worker, so i'd thought i'd give it a try, too!"

you're practically shaking from how anxious and overwhelmed this person's making you feel. it doesn't help that he's clearly not disturbed at all, which almost makes you doubt your own ethics and gut instincts. but, the more you think about it, the more you're sure there's something wrong with this man and not you.

"i-i, uh, well, i'm not interested in-in getting married right now."

"oh, that's a shame! guess i'll try again tomorrow!”

–

you wake up with a jolt, almost knocking the crown of your head into nagumo's chin. though, of course, there's no actual need to worry about that.

"hm, what's wrong?"

with a workbook on bayesian statistics in one hand, a pen resting on his ear, and his other arm folded behind his head, he looks down at you curiously. despite having just woken up, your head's never been clearer, and you sit up between his legs before looking behind your shoulder and shooting a glare at him.

you ask, "can i punch your face?"

nagumo laughs, probably already imagining your futile attempts. "sure! but can i ask why?"

"i dreamt about our first conversation, and it reminded me that you're kinda fucked up."

your boyfriend chuckles more, amused by your moral qualms. "you could say that."

the thought that your relationship is weird has never left you. you're (still) a simple convenience store cashier, and nagumo gets filthy rich by murdering people. you were never that interested in the world around you, having been too busy paying back student loans and applying to other jobs throughout your early adolescent years to care about other things, so when he told you about the JAA and the establishment of the assassin industry as a whole, you were shocked. but that's always as far down into the rabbit hole as you let yourself go.

from this view, with nagumo spread out before you, he doesn't look dangerous at all. if anything, he resembles a nerdy graduate student, thanks to his obvious passions for mathematics and reading. moreover, his short-sleeved t-shirt exposes his tattoo-riddled arms, and the bottom of it has ridden up, giving you a pleasurable view of his hip bones and happy trail. in fact, when the two of you got into bed together for the first time (don't ask how he succeeded in seducing you), you were surprised by his physique. his outside clothes certainly don't do his abs or biceps justice.

anyway, the point is, he looks like your fantasy of a dreamy, hot, geeky boyfriend, not your local professional hitman-for-hire.

you sigh. you're not going to punch his stupidly attractive face. you lie back down onto his chest, burrowing your nose into the crook of his neck. you do let yourself get away with a pinch to his cheek.

then, you mutter, "don't hurt me."

"i won't," he chirps.

nagumo presses the knuckles of his free hand into the knots around your shoulder blades and flips his book back open.

he knows you mean more than in the literal sense.

[2therazor]

smut prompt 8 x tbp era mikey way??!?!??! i feel lile tbp mikey is just so dirty nasty tbh like hes so dom idgaf

ignorance is your new best friend

"Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you."

(prompts originally from @delusionisaplace)

anon i could not agree with you more… so here we are!

w/c: 2,210k

content warnings: afab reader, rough sex, dom!mikey, brat reader, reader is a sound techie for the band lol, also mikey is kinda a jerk sorry, angry sex, kinda angst but a happy ending

a/n: (finally writing this like three months later.... oops.. sorry...) not proofread, so there may be some grammatical and mechanical errors. also don't rlly know if I like this one... oh well!

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

mikey had always liked to act oblivious. oblivious to your antics, more so. all day you'd been following him around backstage like a sad dog wanting attention, but still, he paid no mind.

was he ignoring you on purpose? trying to push your buttons? trying to see just how far he could get before you would fall right back into his arms (and bunk) for the night.

you tried not to dwell on it, after all if something was wrong mikey would say something, right? you dragged your feet around backstage to the catering table, picking at the stale sandwiches left behind.

"jesus, what's wrong with you dude?" a voice came from behind you, and from none other than frank, possibly the most nosy friend you've had in your life.

you quickly turned around, trying to hide the empty feeling that mikey was ignoring you. you had been sleeping together for some time but had never really had the "what are we?" conversation. you had kind of hoped it stayed that way though, you were just a sound tech for the band, but had known mikey for years.

shaking your head you murmured, "i'm fine frankie, besides it's not really your business anyways" slowly walking away from the catering table, head down. you loved frank, but you didn't really have the energy to gossip about your tragic sex life at the moment.

before you could walk even three steps away, a foot was placed in front of yours, causing you to look up, face to face with frank.

"you're annoying, you know that right?" his smile wide and as stupid as ever. you really weren't getting out of this one, were you?

surrendering your pride, you take a deep breath in, then sigh. "it's mikey, he's kinda just been ignoring me all day. it's pissing me off, and he won't really tell me why either. i dunno, I just wish he'd talk to me about it instead of acting like I'm some plague-ridden peasant or something."

frank looks at you a moment, studying your expression. for a moment, it looks like he's about to say something. then he just reaches out, puts his hand on your shoulder and calmly says: "it's not you, I promise. mikey just has a lot of things he needs to tell you, but instead of telling you, he likes to pretend his feelings will just magically disappear. but he's kinda a fucking idiot so…" he trails off then slowly pulls you into a hug.

you could probably cry, but whatever deep dark secret frank just shared was way too cryptic. what did he mean it wasn't you? what did he mean mikey had things he needs to tell you? it was all too confusing. god you wish mikey would just grow up and tell you instead of ignoring your advances all day. nonetheless, you let go of frank and wipe a small tear forming in your eye. "thanks frank."

"yeah," he rubs your back a bit. "just don't tell mikey I told you, or you might find my guts by your door tomorrow morning." he grinned, dragging his feet on the concrete behind him.

"five minutes everyone!" a loud voice rings from behind you. sound check was done, now it was time to sit through an hour and a half long show and pine over mikey for most, if not all of it.

you sigh, heading to your side of the stage. this was going to be the longest hour and a half of your extremely short lived life.

the show had come to an end, and you weren't really upset anymore, just very very bitter. you needed to talk to mikey or you would drive yourself insane the rest of the tour. so as soon as he stepped off stage, damp and sweaty hair, you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him aside.

he glanced down at you, a smug look on his face. "hi.." he started.

"why have you been such a dick today mikey? you've been ignoring me since we got off the tour bus, and you won't even tell me why?"

again, he just looked down at you and smiled cockily. "you like it when I play games though don't you? you love having to beg for my attention," he leaned down so his mouth was in the shell of your ear "you love having to beg for my cock, don't you?"

fuck. he was such a fucking asshole. this is the whole reason he was doing this? to piss you off so you'd fuck him?

"grow the fuck up mikey. if you have something to say to me just say it. we're not 16 anymore, ignoring so i'd fuck you is beyond low."

"that's funny you say that," his hand reaches for your chin pulling it up so it faces him. "because you fall for it every single fucking time" before you can retort, he pulls you in for a kiss. not a tender one either, quickly opening your mouth with his tongue and grabbing you by the waist. your knees are weak, your heart is beating fast. he's right. you fall for it every goddamn time.

he pulls away for a second, setting his bass on a stand. "come with me to the dressing room, we have like 20 minutes max"

annoyed and horny, you oblige, quickly pushing your way past the rest of the sound crew and a few other unrecognizable faces.

as soon as the door swung open, you didn’t even have time to think before mikey pressed his lips against yours. the whole situation was so juvenile. sneaking off to make out, him ignoring you so you’d fuck him. you tried to ignore the pain in your chest as he slid his knee to your core.

you stifled a moan at this, grabbing his hair, pulling him in harder. if he wanted to get you worked up, he was gonna have hell to pay.

“god, you’re so pretty like this.” he breathed heavily into your neck after feverishly breaking the kiss holding you two together.

“are you gonna keep teasing or are you actually gonna get me off mikey?” you pushed your pussy further onto his leg, grinding on him as he casually left marks that everyone would defininintely give you shit for later.

“fuck,” he stuttered, moving his hands to remove your jeans finally.

you smiled lightly, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. you moved your hand to grasp his black locks once again, just to bask in the small noises he made, just for you. a ping of jealously hit your chest, just the thought of him making these sounds for anyone else made you want to fuck him harder.

he swiftly took off your underwear after making a show of taking off your jeans, pressing two fingers inside of you before you even had time to think.

“only i get to see you like this, you’re mine” he whispered in your ear as he worked another finger inside of you, slowly moving his thumb around your clit.

that sentence alone almost had you falling apart on his skilled fingers. you shuddered a breath at his possessiveness, knowing that deep down, no matter whoever the fuck else he was sleeping around with, you were his regardless.

“mikey please” you pleaded with him, not even really sure what you were begging for at this point.

“what baby? what do you want from me?” he spoke softly, genuinely sounding sincere. it broke your heart a little more than it should’ve, honestly.

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but bit your lip as hard as you could trying not to cry.

“shh… it’s okay baby. i’m sorry for being a dick all day, i’ll give you what you want. does that sound okay?” he brought a hand to your cheek, stroking it slowly.

you gulped quietly, nodding your head back at him.

“just- let me eat you out first. please?” he went to kiss your neck again, sucking down another bruise on your skin.

you nodded, trying really hard not to cry this time. he was so caring and sweet, even when you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you over the dressing room table.

he picked you up again, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you over to the dresser to prop you up.

once he set you down, you looked down at him as he started working you open once again, with his tongue this time. and god did he know how to use his mouth. you briefly locked eyes with him as he worked he licked a stripe up your pussy, occasionally adding a finger. your hand flew to his hair as he added two fingers and worked you open with his tongue. he was absolutely perfect in the dim glow of the dressing room.

“fuck mikey, i-i’m close.” you breathed heavily as he showed no signs of stopping.

“then come. come into my mouth baby, please. please i want you so bad.” he whined.

and just hearing his pleading, your hand gripped his hair tighter as you shook above him. he wasted no time undoing his belt and you couldn’t even register he had too, taken his jeans off as he pressed gentle kisses and lovebites up your thighs.

he grabbed a condom from his discarded jeans, quickly rolling it on and stroking himself a few times. he captured your lips in a kiss, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eyes.

“hey. you’re so beautiful.” he laughed

“yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “are you gonna fuck me now or what?”

“maybe if you’d stop being such a brat.” he was closer to your face now, slowly taking your features in.

“what, are you gonna make me beg again?” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“nope. just gonna fuck you until you cry baby.” and with that, he pushed into you, hard.

your breath stuttered as he continued to pound into you at an unforgiving pace, he was really serious about holding that promise, wasn’t he?

“fuck baby, you’re so tight, open your legs… wanna see you,” he grunted as he bit your shoulder lightly.

you moaned again, pushing him in further with your legs.

he didn’t slow down at all, fucking into you at a brutal pace. “tell me you’re mine. tell me you belong to me.”

“fuck, i’m yours mikey. all yours, please,” you whined, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“and who’s the only one that gets to see you like this?” he added, not faltering his pace as he continued to pound into you.

“you, you and no one else mikey-” you felt the tears that you held back earlier, threaten to fall again. you wanted to tell him so badly that you loved him, and you had secretly hoped he had felt the same way about you. sure, you were his during sex but the thought of being his all the time was making you cry.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty when you cry for me baby,” he wiped your tears gently with the back of his palm. “-m, really fucking close baby.” he added as he connected his lips to yours again.

“mikey please come-” you broke the kiss to say, letting more tears fall from your eyes.

“fuck!” he threw his head back as you felt him twitch inside of you. you came shortly after seeing the dark bruises you left on his neck.

after a few minutes of you both recollecting yourselves, mikey pulled out throwing the condom in the trash a few feet away. he slowly inched towards you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“i’m sorry for being an asshole earlier, i just- sometimes i don’t know how to deal with my feelings and-” he blurted out.

“mikey,” you cut him off and said sternly.

“is this you scolding me or?” he started

“god,” you laughed at the absurdity of the situation, running your hand through his hair. “mikey, i like you. and i’m really tired of pretending that i don’t because it genuinely hurts me every time we hook up. i want you, i want to be with you..”

“fuck. i thought you would never say that to me. i thought that maybe if i was just a dick to you my feelings would go away but obviously that was terrible of me.” he caressed your cheek again, looking into your eyes.

“i love you mikey.” you said without thinking, your heart stinging after, scared he wouldn’t say it back.

“i love you too. i’m tired of sneaking around with you, i want to take you out and show you off, you know? i think i’ve been in love with you a little longer than i’d like to admit…” he smiled as he ran a hand through your hair. “i’m still gonna be mad at you for this, just so you know.” you smiled as you pulled him in for another kiss. he returned the kiss, sliding his hand down to your waist. and just like that, your doubts and worries washed away.

[ma1dita]

I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️” 

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions. 

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Words Like Honey 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Ransom Drysdale (Professor AU)

Summary: it's hard making friends at college, but you might just be looking in the wrong places.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You reach for the last coconut bar in the basket. As you take it, another hand stops short and you turn to the man you didn’t notice right beside you. You have a bad habit of zoning out in crowded places. Your sister calls it tunnel vision. Often times, you would just sit and stare at family gatherings with all the people and sound. 

“Oh, oops, sorry,” you hold out the bar, “did you want this one?” 

The man glances at you, a tick in his cheek, “aw, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that. I’m just fine with a brownie.” He reaches to take a brownie from the basket instead, “nice of ya to offer, though.” 

“It’s not problem,” you say, “I don’t mind trading.” 

“No, no, now what kinda gentleman would take from a pretty gal like yourself? You go on and enjoy that,” he smiles. “Don’t meet many polite ladies ‘round here, now.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks heat up, “thank you, sir.” 

“And I’m sure you don’t need old men sayin’ so,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll be on my way then.” 

You smile as he moves to get around you. The space is tighter than you expect and his belly presses slightly against you as he sidles past. He gives and apologetic nod, “sorry, sweetheart.” 

“No worries,” you assure him and slip past, turning to peruse the packets of flavoured hot chocolate by the hot water karafe. 

You choose the smores flavour and tear it open. You fix up your cocoa and pop a lid on top. You take your sweets to the cashier and swipe your student card. It isn’t the best use of your meal plan but that sweet tooth kills you.  

You have about an hour before your next class. You come out into the cafeteria area and glance around. There’s not much room in the midday rush. The first week is always the busiest. 

You could sneak your hot chocolate into the library but you’re not sure it would be any less crowded. You see the same man at a table. He shimmies on his seat as he puts his briefcase next to him. He’s older and judging by his checkered button-up, a professor.  

You measure your options. Second year and you still haven’t found any friend. Your grandma says to put yourself out there but Cameron in your baking class said your souffle looked flat and laughed with Dustin and Penny.  

All you want is a place to sit. 

You approach the man, your stomach fluttering. You really hope you’re not bothering him. You keep your hot chocolate close to your chest. 

“Ahem, erm, excuse me, sir,” you say. He looks up as he presses his thumb down to unlock his phone. He lays it on the table and retracts his hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a pest, again, but...” you look around, “do you mind if I steal this seat? I promise I’ll be quiet.” 

“Go on,” he gestures to the chair. “I’ll only ask ya one thing.” 

“Oh, sure,” you look at him like a frightened fawn. 

“Your name? Must be as pretty as you.” 

You could melt. The way his accent turns his voice to syrup and his words make it even sweeter. You grin. 

“Saffron, sir,” you set down your cup and square. You extend your hand in an overly formal gesture. “And you?” 

“You can call me Lee, sweet cake.” He shakes your hand. His grip is firm and tight. He reminds you of your neighbour who used to mow the lawn for your grandma. Always helpful. 

“Lee,” you sit and blow over the slot of the lid. “You must teach. Oh, sorry, I said I’d be quiet.” 

“Nah, it’s alright,” he waves away your apology. “Is it that obvious then? You count the grays?” 

He touches his temples and you giggle nervously. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. I only... well, you could be a student. Gerry in my pastry class, he’s got grandkids.” 

“I ain’t got none of those now,” he snorts and points at you tersely. 

“I--” You pull back and touch your cheeks, “oh boy, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.” 

He laughs, “I know. I’m yankin’ ya chain. So, I s’pose you’re a student then? Culinary? You mentioned pastries?” 

“Oh, yes.” You nod and cross your arms over the table. “I always cooked with my grandma and I figured, if you’re good at something, you should keep doing it.” 

“That does sound like a good plan,” he says.  

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod. 

Awkwardness sets in and you try to figure out what to do with yourself. You scratch your shoulder then reach for your hot chocolate. You take another drink and set it down. You take the coconut square and put it in your bag. 

You take out your laptop, hoping to busy yourself as the tension builds. You should have just gone and sat in the quad. Too late now. 

You open up the lid and type in your password. Of course, it needs to update. As you wait for the rolling circle to finish, your vision blurs. All this activity makes you want to disappear. 

Your eyes come back into focus as your computer chirps. You blink and notice movement on the other side. You glance at Lee as he pulls his phone close and squints at the screen. There’s something odd about the intensity of his gaze. You swear, he’d just had it right across from you. 

Well, you weren’t paying attention. There you go again, blocking out the world. If you stopped that, you might actually make friends! You frown and cup your chin in your hand. 

“’samatter?” He asks, once more jarring you from your self-imposed isolation. 

You shake your head and sit up, “nothing. Just... thinking.” 

“Hm, well whatever ya thinking of, it can’t be so bad. Not enough to make a sweet thing like you so sad,” he says. 

“Really, it’s not. You know, college can be stressful,” you force a smile. 

“It can be. Piece of advice,” he leans forward, “get out while you can. Don’t stick around like me.” 

“Oh, well, thanks,” you reply. “I think I’ll end up in a kitchen somewhere. Hopefully.” 

“Kitchen’s a nice place to be,” he winks. “Make all sorts of tasty dishes. Make people happy. Not many people happy about a term paper, ya know?” 

[seattlesellie]

Can you write an ellie fic where she's getting off to photos of reader and moaning readers name and reader walks in on her

million times yes <3 ☁️🤍🐚🌫️

warnings: mdni!, masturbation, ellie’s a little bit of a weirdo, ellie gets caught.

Oops ♡

For you, being Ellie’s roommate was... hard. Unwashed dishes, the occasional sight of her boxer briefs messily laying around on the living room floor (“They fell from the laundry basket” she told), old crumpled yellow papers on the fuzzy carpet, an unwashed ashtray and a shit-ton of disorganized cards and pins adorning every single corner of the apartment.

But for for Ellie, oh, for Ellie it was even harder.

She always had a soft spot for things she’d never get. Your empty shampoo bottles never bothered her, neither did your habit of constantly forgetting to blow out the vanilla scented candles you lit once in a while, even after she told you they could be a fire hazard every. single. time.

What bothered Ellie, weren’t your complains, and neither were the repeating sounds and buzzes of your alarm clock followed by exactly eight hits on the snooze button (she counts, the walls are pretty thin).

What bothered Ellie, is that you didn’t give a single fuck about her. Or at least, that’s what she had convinced herself of.

When you’d lounge pretty on the couch, nestled within a cozy woolen blanket, your fingers tirelessly swiping and swiping and swiping through every single dating app known to man, she’d watch you intently, and stare.

It wasn’t because she was judging you, god knows she had a tinder phase herself (Amanda was her last straw. she said Ellie talked about her roommate “too much”, that she “needed to figure that shit out”, and then added a huff and a sigh followed by a “fucking lesbians, man”)

It was because she didn’t fucking get it. Could you not see what’s right in front of you? you didn't seem to... grasp the obvious. Don’t get it wrong, Ellie was not overconfident, and neither was she cocky. She just… noticed. She was observant by nature, and she knew, she was convinced shed never heard you laugh the way you do with her, with anybody else in the world. When your best friends were over for a girls night— even then, she would hear muted laughter and the occasional screech (barely audible over the backdrop of "The Smiths" blaring through her headphones) but never, ever, did that breathy, real, borderline on wheezing sound escape your mouth when you were with them. It was idly saved for her.

She’d take her earphones out— because perhaps she’d missed it, maybe she was delusional, maybe you did laugh like that— and then, plug them back in when she was met with silence or the gentle symphony of peaceful snores, and return to the solace of her music. She’d hollow in deep slumber, and have incredibly bizarre dreams of her pretty roommate roaming and floating around the apartment only in her underwear— and for some reason, a horn on her head. Dreams were fucking weird, man.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

“The Truman Show” played on tv. Jim Carey just made a funny face, and Ellie shoved another slice of greasy, brooklyn pizza in her mouth. She chewed, loudly (you sighed) and wiped her lips on her shoulder.

“I’d literally lose it if I found out my life was a tv show” you remarked, your eyes shifting from the remaining pizza to the flickering television screen.

“Meh” Ellie shrugged.

“I’d lose it if it was a video game though. Imagine if like— someone controlled every single movement you made… scary, man”

She huffed, and threw the pizza crust on the table. It fell on the floor. These fucking ants would come again, you knew they would! you gave her a stern look.

“Sorry” she softly sighed, and bent down to pick the crust off the pavement. Her boxers poked through her sweats, you looked across the room, and then you looked again. God.

“Plug you on their PS5, and go… ham and stuff” you giggled.

“Wild shit…” she shrugged. “Wild shit”

Jim Carey’s character just met the deepest corner of its own little world.

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the screen, even though she’d seen that flick about a million times.

You scrolled through your phone mindlessly. You know she hated when you did that while watching something with her— but you did it anyways. Something about the way her eyebrows scrunched together when she peaked at the screen through the corner of her eye always made your heart flutter. She pouted, and you tried to hide the way your lips curled upwards into a small smile.

“Should I post this on insta?” you questioned, handing ellie your phone. She took it in her hands, and the brightness was so high her eyes twinkled.

She bit her bottom lip, and then her top one.

“You’re like… half naked in that” she huffed. She wasn’t wrong, the bikini was so so tiny and the salt water covering your body, making it practically glisten in the sun, didn’t help the sensual undertones of said picture.

“I know” you stated.

She looked at you, and then looked at the screen again. Don’t look too long, she thought to herself. She handed the phone back to you, and stared at the television. Great, she just missed the best part!

“Is that a no?” you quipped.

“That’s a… who are you posting that for?” she tried asking casually, and mask her jealousy with curiosity.

There must be someone. there just must. Perhaps it’s for that girl you talked to on Bumble… shit, maybe its for that blonde from work or the one with the long braids that waved to you for too long who Ellie had made her arch enemy. Or maybe it was for that fucking ex girl—

“Why would you think I’m posting it… for someone?”

Ellie sighed, and rolled her eyes.

“Cause you look good in it.”

She gulped, and moved a hair strand from her face. it itched, all of a sudden.

“Or like— you look naked or something.”

You rolled your eyes back, and yawned.

“Is that a no?” you questioned.

“No what?” she snickered.

“Is that a no i shouldn’t post?” you removed a microscopic piece of lint that landed on her hoodie, it made her shiver.

She let out a shaky breath, and toyed with the string that hung loose from her black nike socks.

“Why are you askin’ if you’re gonna post it anyways?”

You smirked. For some reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on, sometimes, conversations with her weren’t exactly easy.

“Who said i’ll post? I asked you because I needed your advice”

“Sure” she stated, and slid off the couch.

“Post it” she crossed her arms.

You nodded. post!

You already had one like. Oh, it’s that blonde girl from work. fire emoji, winky face emoji, red heart emoji. Nice!

“M’going to bed” she groaned, and shoved a tiny mushroom in her mouth.

“Ugh. gooey”

You looked up from your phone, and shut it off with a click.

“But you’ll miss the best part!” you pouted.

“Tired” she shrugged. Her face scrunched together. how is she so fucking adorable.

“M’kay… night!”

Ellie dragged her body across the dim lit living-room, and almost slipped on one of her socks.

“Mmmmight” she mumbled.

“Say it nicely!” you yelled across the room, it echoed.

“Good nightttt”

The door slammed shut. Ellie sat down on the bed, and stared at the wall. She cracked her knuckles, one by one, and threw her head back on the mattress, wrapped up by green flannel sheets. Her head landed on the pillow with a soft thud, and she took a long, deep breath. She wasn’t even tired, why did she lie?

That image just took over her brain again. She had only glimpsed it briefly, not truly absorbing its details, before reluctantly handing the device back to you. If she stared any longer— her cheeks would burn a bright pink.

The screen of her Android glowed in the darkness, so she grabbed it. Always on silent mode.

A message from Joel; “Got Maria to iron some of your clothes. remember Janet from across the street? She passed away last week, LOL (lots of love).”

Ellie scratched her eyes, chuckled, and took a screenshot. no fucking way.

A message from Dina; “can u send me some lives on candy crush?”

Followed by another one;

“send them right now or die”

So she scrolled some more.

Instagram; “dinawoodward, jessethekinggglol, courtneycameron and others liked this post!”

She tapped, and thats when her eyes popped out of her head. she suddenly felt parched. She looked around the room— that water-bottle she kept from two weeks ago after a trip to the local bodega must be around there somewhere.

It was not, so there you stood, almost half-naked, a playful smile gracing your lips, the sun-kissed sand partially covering your stomach, and the gentle touch of saltwater caressing your chest. A pair of brown sunglasses adorned your face, with the serene sea standing still in the background.

Ellie blinked once. And then once more, and then she zoomed in.

Her face twitched, and her breath hitched inside her throat. It felt as though her breath had been captured and confined, held hostage within her, struggling to find its release.

She double tapped, and began typing;

“If I could, I’d fuck the shit out of you”

She stared at her keyboard, and breathed deeply. What would happen if she, actually pressed send. Would you come barging inside her room and throw something at her? the green colored vase, maybe? or would you delete her comment, pretend it never happened and move on? perhaps you’d think she was just fucking around, and scold her for typing something like that where everyone could see. “You’re such a creep, el!” she could almost hear you say it. And she could almost feel the way your palm would slam right into her shoulder and nudge it her the side. It made her ears feel warm.

She zoomed in on your tits. Ellie’s face flushed a pretty, dusty pink.

Then, she zoomed in on your stomach, and her nipples perked up inside her hoodie. They grazed the material softly, and she let out a shaky breath.

When she zoomed in on your smile, she smirked at the screen. it made her feel warm and fuzzy and happy and she hated every minute of it. “Never gonna get it” echoed in her ears, a reminder of the "truth" tugged at her heart.

When she zoomed in on your covered cunt, she nearly went cross eyed. She could almost see the outline of your lips— or was she tripping?

Her cunt clenched around absolute nothingness inside her boxers. Was she… getting fucking wet over this?

She gulped, as waves of guilt washed over her. and then, she zoomed in on your tits again, and she felt so turned on she couldn’t even remember what the word guilt even meant.

She heard the echo of your giggle reverberating through the corridor, filling the space with a sound that made her stomach turn. the rhythm of your footsteps grew louder, gradually approaching your room situated just across from hers.

Perhaps you chuckled at something amusing one of your fucking bumble buddies had to say. She lightly bumped her forehead against the screen of her phone, her lips pressed together, forming a thin line.

Your door slammed shut, and a tune began.

“you’re so gorgeous… i cant say anything to your face, cause look at your face…”

How fucking ironic.

“Shut up alexa!” you groaned at the device, causing ellie to stifle a giggle, before she felt the pool flow down her boxers.

The apartment descended into a profound silence, save for the sound of Ellie’s labored breaths echoing in the stillness. she leaned in closer, scrutinizing the image on the screen, alternating between zooming in and zooming out, and crosser her legs together.

When the imagination of your bare tits popped up in her mind, your nipple poking through as you held them together on the screen, it ached inside of her.

Would it really be so wrong if she…?

There was no real harm in it, she thought. It was either this, or close her eyes and rub one off in the darkness, and even then— she had a nagging intuition that you would somehow find your way into her thoughts.

Woudl it really make her that much of a fucking pervert?

Ellie groaned, and brought her knees up to her stomach. Her phone was still in her hand, and that picture teased, and teased, and teased till she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Fuck it. if she did this, she was going to do it right. And she needed to see it close up— and not through her cracked fucking screen she wasn’t bothered fixing for two whole weeks now.

She opened the screen of her laptop, and when she sat on the black leather rolling chair, It felt fucking uncomfortable down there. It was sleek, and she could feel her cunt slide off on the fabric of her boxers.

“Fuuuuck me” she hissed under her breath.

www.instagram.com

Right click.

Your profile, right click. Her hand held a tremor.

You were the focal point, the star of the show, illuminating her old, black HP laptop. The screen, adorned with a thin layer of dust, caught her attention. She leaned in and blew gently, causing the particles to disperse and float away.

She swallowed hard, her throat constricting as she continued to gaze intently. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steady herself, but the inhalation felt jagged and uneven.

She brought a veiny hand to graze the fabric of her grey colored sweats, just above her clothed cunt, and she felt so fucking relieved.

And it still wouldn’t stop fucking pulsing.

she stared at the bikini, and rubbed her finger up and down slowly, cupped her cunt forcefully, slapped it and whimpered.

“Goddamn” she huffed.

She began tracing big, deliberate circles, her touch slow and steady, causing the fabric of her boxers to cling to her wet cunt.

She had to take them off.

Swiftly, she inserted her thumbs into the edges of her boxers, right at the level of her hipbones, and pulled them down in one fluid motion. The fabric gathered messily around her ankles. She felt so fucking nasty.

Ellie spread her legs, and gasped as the cool air hit her most sensitive place. She waited for a minute, mouth agape, teasing her cunt before she touched it. She swore she could cum with just squeezing in and out while staring at your face.

However, she could not tease herself anymore when those thoughts began forming clearer and clearer.

She brought a long finger and caressed her slit slowly from her hole to her puffy little clit. "Oh fuck yes" she hissed.

It started with thinking about your tits. Her mind wandered, and her hole leaked into the leather chair, forming a small droplet to lay down on it. She breathed heavily.

The thought of you, taking off that bikini top in front of her went through her mind. Slow, deliberate process of undoing its strings, so so agonizingly slow. When they spilled out, ellie let out a high pitched moan.

“Touch them, Ellie” you whispered in her ear.

“Please touch me…” you whined.

She gasped, took two fingers, her middle and her ring, and formed tiny, slow circles on her wet clit. Ellie spread her legs wide, and placed them on the table.

It looked absolutely obscene.

In reality, Ellie was touching herself to a picture on a slightly dusty old screen. In her imagination, you stood pretty begging her for more. Your fucking whines did it for her, and she didn’t even know what they sounded like for real.

You circled your nipples, pinched them and spat a glob of saliva, letting it streamline down your tits, teasing ellie so bad she was already panting. They glistened, and ellie latched on to them, sucking and spitting and whimpering groaning.

“So good Ellie...” you moaned, holding the back of her hand and pushing her deeper.

“I want you so fucking bad”

“Holy fucking shit” she hissed, and slapped her clit. one slap! two slaps! she was desperate.

“Fuuuck yes” she whimpered, and plunged a finger inside her aching hole. It sucked her completely in, clenching around her fingers. She gasped, and slid off the chair.

She was staring at your fucking cunt with her eyes half shut. she swore she could see those fucking lips.

Now, Ellie’s mind took a turn. You laid pretty on her bed, chest heaving up and down, legs spread completely open with a pink vibrator buzzing on your clit.

“Ellie!” you moaned.

“Fuck me... please please please"

She plunged a second finger, and bucked her hips inwards and backwards. She whimpered, and a shaky breath followed by the sound of your name escaped her quivering lips.

“Need you in my pussy… p—pretty please”

She swore she could hear you say it.

Ellie pounced on her bed and savored you whole. she bit your clit, sucked on it and got her entire face wet with your juices.

“God yes” she groaned, wet, squelching sounds filling the room. She pumped them in and out, and in and out again, whilst the other hand was circling itself fast on her needy, pulsating clit. Every few seconds, she’d slap it again, open wider and wider, bucking and riding them so hard she could almost see a supernova right in front of her.

The dull ache in her pussy grew bigger and bigger.

“You need me? fucking whore” she whispered under her breath.

Thin, shiny, sticky drool flowed from the corner of her mouth, it landed on the top of her hoodie.

“Yes Ellie… please Ellie need you in my pussy” She pumped them profusely, feeling your walls take her in like she needed to. When she pumped them inside of herself— That’s what she liked to imagine. It was you, who took her in. They were your walls, your wet cunt begging and screaming for more.

She felt it coming in the pits of her stomach. It grew bigger and bigger, like a wave, or a volcano, threatening to erupt and make her cream all over her chair.

“Ellie yesyesyesyes!” you moaned.

She circled faster and faster, her perky tits bouncing up and down with every movement of her hips. The chair squeaked, but she couldn't be bother to take it slow.

“Ellie?” your voice echoed through the corridor.

“Yeah baby s— say my fucking name, fuck” she hissed, her eyes completely shut.

“Ellie?”

God, it felt so fucking real. Almost there. She bit her lip, and it drew blood.

The door collided with the wall, hitting it with a loud thud.

“Ellie?”

“N— fuNgh”

She almost screamed so loud the gods could hear. she shut her laptop off before even pulling her fingers out.

She was going to fucking faint.

Her face flushed a deep shade of crimson, intense embarrassment radiating from her form, hands trembling uncontrollably, and the expression on her face was one of sheer horror— wide eyed.

She got caught.

"What..." you uttered, your voice trailing off as you stood frozen in place, your mouth agape. Your knees threatened to give way beneath you.

You shut the door.

Ellie, her chest heaving, struggled to catch her breath.

“Oh my—“

“God”

[visionsofyouandme]

Alleviate

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel comes home from work, stressed after a long day. You offer some relief.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: No Outbreak!AU. Joel Miller x afab!reader. Domesticity. Joel is stressed and therefore a little needy. Swearing. Age gap or not (you decide!). Reader has hair that can be pulled. SMUT (18+ MNDI). Dry humping. Sub!Joel. Oral (m!receiving). Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Not proofread (oops).

𝙰/𝙽: Here's a little something for this Sunday. Delays for Heartlines and cowboy!Joel are imminent- got some personal stuff going on. But, I'm going to do my best to get them up and running here soon! Hope you enjoy this lil one shot of helpin' our man Joel out... Enjoy!

Joel slammed the car door and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face as he walked up the steps to home. 

Well, your home. 

He had gone to his own, yes, to shower and clean up. But, he felt a longing that had been in him since yesterday, and it had finally materialized once the day had faded to night.

Joel had been seeing you for quite some time now. Tommy had told Joel that he was inviting a “pretty young woman” to the Super Bowl party last year. Ever since, he’s had a hard time driving you from his mind. 

It had started off innocent enough- he would help with things that constantly seemed to break- the air conditioner, the washer and dryer, other appliances. He had come around enough that he stayed for a drink or two afterwards. And then he would stay the night.

Then one night after far too many drinks for either of your preferences, you kissed him.

Ever since, it’s never been the same. 

So, he found himself dragging himself to your house despite a long day. Not everyday, of course, as you weren’t his wife or anything- but enough that you stopped being surprised when he showed up. And eventually gave him a key to let himself in.

He took said key and did just that- opening your door and pushing inside, hand splayed against the door. He took a few careful steps in, seeing as it was late at night and he didn’t want to wake you. He would probably crawl into bed with you after raiding your kitchen, and call it a night. 

When he rounded to the kitchen, he stopped. You stood by the stove, wearing nothing but underwear and one of his buttoned flannels, holding a spatula. You turned to him, and he saw a surprised expression flash across your face that quickly changed to happiness.

“Evening.” You said, and he nodded, his eyes still lingering on your bare legs. He walked to the kitchen table not too far away, and pulled a chair out, sitting down. You took off the food from the burner, having finished cooking the eggs at just the right time.

“Rough day?” You questioned when he said nothing, and looked back at him. His eyes finally flicked back to your own, and he shrugged. Smirking, you walk over to him. Pushing your hands through his graying hair, you tilt his head up to meet your gaze.

“You know, if you can’t tell me what's wrong, I can’t help.” You chided him, and he breathed softly, leaning his head down and into your midsection. Your eyebrows knitted, but you pressed a hand to his hair, the other hand on his shoulder.

“‘M just tired. Fuckin’ customers and their shit. Y’know?” He said, his voice a mumble, but you caught it anyway. You nodded, looking down and pressed a kiss to his hair. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He lifted his head, his brown eyes normally hard were now soft, the line between his eyebrows gone.

“Tell me about your day.” He said, his hand moving to touch your thigh, wrapping around the back of it gently. If Joel was anything, he was a gentle lover. He liked being in control, but respected your boundaries, and only went as hard as you instructed. You were the deciding factor on how hard or soft it would be, and you liked it that way.

So, you took the moment and slid into his lap, straddling his hips. Your toes brushed the ground, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Well, it’s Saturday. Woke up, watered the plants, took a shower…” you recounted, and began to run your hands through his hair, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly. You grin as you could see the hard exterior melt away even more, and you massaged his scalp gently. His hands found their way to your waist, where he held you with increasing pressure as you touched him. 

“… made lunch, read some of my book. Caught up on a few episodes of…” you continued, your voice soft and even. You tested something as you ran your hands through his hair, and tugged on his locks.

He didn’t speak, but he did stiffen, and his head moved straight as he looked down at you. You regarded him with an even expression, but secretly wondered if he wasn’t in the mood tonight. 

His grip on your waist loosened, and he leaned back in his seat. You feigned a resigned look, but he then pulled you close to his chest rather abruptly. He pressed his hand to the small of your back, and you could feel his cock press through the fabric of his jeans. You let out a soft sigh, and began to move your hips just slightly against his.

Your panties offered little barrier between your core and the seam of his jeans. And that thrilled you.

“Jesus,” he muttered, your name coming shortly after. You couldn’t help but smirk, your hands finding his hair again and you continued to move your hips into his. His breath came out in a hiss, and he held fast to your waist, bringing you down more onto his clothed member. 

“You alright?” You questioned, though it comes out like a taunt. He looked down at you, and you saw a darkness within them that you had seen on a handful of occasions. You tilted your head to the side as if to ask the question again, and he took your chin in his hand with a bit of force.

“More than alright.” He said, his voice low. He then pulled you towards him and kissed you with fervor. So much so that you began to lean back from the pressure, but he caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He began to lift his hips against yours, and you let out a soft whine.

“God-“ you began, but he kept his lips locked with yours, and it quite literally took your breath away. He licked at your bottom lip, asking for entrance. When you didn’t respond to his liking, he slid his tongue between your lips anyway. 

Your hands rested on the nape of his neck, hands threading through whatever hair you could find there. You felt a hand wander from your waist, down to your ass, and he gave it a firm squeeze, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

He continued to buck his hips up to yours, and you swore you could feel a wetness pooling between your legs. You weren’t sure if it was from you or Joel’s precum.

“Sweetheart,” he panted against your lips, pulling away to look at you with lust blown eyes. “I’m gonna need you. Now.” 

You were floored. He never really was this… forward. Normally he gave some subtle hints, or let you take the lead on things. But this time? It was very, very apparent that he was not playing patient tonight. 

“But, the food-”

His face told you, “fuck the food.” 

So, you could only nod, trying to hide the light smile as he picked you up by your waist. You wrapped your legs around him securely, beginning to pepper kisses on his neck.. Joel’s hand tightened around your waist, the other hand moving to your thigh. 

He walked into your bedroom and pretty much threw you onto the bed. You bounced lightly, and looked up at him as he began to undo the buttons of the flannel you wore. You watched him in amusement for second, until his face turned pained, desperate. You put your hands over his, and his eyes moved up to yours. You raised your eyebrows,

“Let me take care of you,” you said quietly, and he shook his head minutely, and your grip tightened. You raised your eyebrows, daring him to try to turn you away again. His hands eventually fell from the buttons and you stood up, putting your hands on his waist and turning him around, pushing him to sit on the bed. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, and you could see his shoulders drop just a bit. You ran your hands down his chest gently, and then slowly sunk to his knees. His hands immediately flew to the edges of the bed, gripping it tightly. You made slow work of opening his belt buckle, then sliding the zipper down. You could feel how hard he already was under your hands, and when you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, it stood at attention eagerly. 

You glanced up at him, and took him in hand, giving him a few pumps of preparation. He sucked in a breath, and you wiggled an eyebrow up at him.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing. Lay back.” you said, and he shook his head,

“No. Wanna see you-” he said, but it contorted into a groan as you swiped your tongue over his tip, then up and down the shaft. He shuddered, and you gave another experimental lick over his head, lapping up the precum. 

“Suit yourself.” you said with a teasing grin before taking him into your mouth. You took him bit by bit, hearing him breathe above you, going from pained to pleasured. You took him down to the base, his coarse hairs almost rubbing your nose. You began to move your head up and down, allowing the saliva to coat his cock, making it easier to suck.

“Jesus. Fuck-” he began, and you groped for his hand and placed it overtop of your head, urging him to hold you. He took the command, and threaded his fingers through your hair gently, but it tightened at a particular harsh suck, your cheeks hollowing out.

There we go.

You could hear him trying to hold back the groans, the soft pants that began to come from his lips. But, you alternated between sucking and licking, enjoying your time with him, drawing it out. You could feel him tensing beneath you, cock pulsing, and how he was struggling to hold back. His hand on your hair gripped tighter, and he then pulled you off of him with a force you never expected of him. You looked up at him, gasping for breath out of shock and exertion, and he pulled you to your feet. 

“Please- Please, let me-” he began, and you bent down to kiss him hotly, and he lapped up the salty taste of his precum from your lips and mouth. You did your best to rid yourself of your underwear, breaking away to slide them down your legs as Joel lifted his hips to rid himself of his jeans and boxers. 

You looked at him, and could see the most pitiful expression on his face. Submissive, begging, pleading. He had been like this before, but never this extreme. You somewhat liked it, having this much control over his pleasure. 

But, you couldn’t deny him. Not when he looked at you like that. 

He was about to move you to the bed when you took his shoulders and climbed into his lap for the second time that evening. You took his cock in hand, and positioned it underneath your weeping pussy. You could hear him sputter, give some kind of protest, but when you sunk onto his cock with ease, that shut him up pretty quick. 

“I’m supposed to take care of you, remember?” you whispered, taking his face in your hands, only to see his eyes screwed shut tightly. He gave the slightest nod, and you let him adjust to the newfound sensation of the warmth and silkiness of your insides gripping him. 

He said your name softly, barely a full breath, and you began to move your hips. His hand flew to your lower back, and brought you closer to him. He leaned his forehead on your shoulder, bucking his hips into yours as you took over most of the work. You swayed your hips back and forth, up and down, the wet squelching sounds filling the room. But, Joel’s groans and soft curses seemed to drown it out.

“So… fucking… good…” he groaned, and you kissed at his temple gently, a hand on his shoulder for more leverage as the other held onto his hair. He nosed his way down the flannel to the open portion of it, pushing it out of the way to begin to lap at your breast. When he took a nipple in his mouth, you gasped, your grip tightening in his hair. He groaned in response to the subtle movement of praise. 

You began to move with a little more force, feeling your own peak come on. You weren’t hellbent on coming, wanting to take care of Joel first. But, his hand pressed at your lower back, then grabbed your ass roughly, his hips meeting yours with deeper thrusts. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you,” he panted, and lifted his head to look at you. Eyes blown, lips swollen, hair disheveled, he looked like an image of lust. 

And he was all yours.  

The hairs of his base touched your clit just so, and you came down with a particularly hard movement, then another, then a third. He kissed at your neck, and you gave your first whimper of the evening as he began to suck lightly, knowing that it drove you insane.

You clenched around him, seeing stars, and exhaled a breath so deeply that you didn’t know you were holding. You felt him shudder underneath you, and he began to lift you off of him, knowing he was aching to come, but you held fast.

“In-Inside, inside, Joel,” you panted, sounding exactly like the desperate command you intended. You heard him curse a string of “fucks” softly, and then a groan that shook his chest as he came, his spend pumping into you in quick, long bursts. You continued your best to keep up the movement to prolong it, but your thighs were burning, and you were still reeling from your own orgasm. 

He eventually still, his head pressed to your chest, his breathing trying to even out. You knew your heart was beating fast, and sweat collected on your brow. But, you just wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in his embrace, knowing you helped him in the best way you could.

When he lifted his head, you tilted his head up to you, and you smiled gently.

“Feel better?” you said, and he smiled just the slightest. He was still reeling from his high, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt and pressed a kiss to his lips. He gathered his bearings and kissed you back, and you slid off of his softening cock, both of you hissing at the loss of contact. You rose on shaky legs, his spend dripping down your inner thighs. You began to turn to the bathroom, and he pulled you towards him again. He took your cheek in his palm and brought you down to kiss you deeply, your breath swept away in his mouth.

You pulled away, looking down at him and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it gently with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I think you’ll make it through another day, Mr. Miller.” you giggled, and he stood up, pulling his shirt over his head before undoing the last couple of buttons on the flannel, backing you up to the bathroom.

“All thanks to you,” he said, and you shrugged with a prideful smile. 

“I try my best,” you said, pausing at the threshold and leaned up to kiss his lips. You pulled away just a bit, and tilted your head up to meet his eyes, wrapping your arms around his middle. “Do you wanna join me-?”

“Way ahead of you, sweetheart.” 

[todoroklee]

Boo 👻

Uhm uhm uhm- I haves a request, I’m literally feeding off of Denki tickle fics rn and I know that’s not a character u normally do buttt you can use any Ler/lee you want with him ^^ I just ask for no foot tks pleaseeee

Okay im flustered enough writing this, bye bye now

YES I WOULD LOVE TO WRITE A DENKI FIC OMGGG!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!!! :333

SFW TICKLES, IF YOU DONT LIKE IT SCROLL NOW 😊

Lee!denki ler!katsuki

Summary: Denki was having a bad day, everyone could tell, Bakugou was the one who decided to do something about it

AN: sorry if this is shit x 💀🖐🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a gorgeous day outside, the sun gleaming, the breeze cool, it was perfect. Everyone was outside, enjoying themselves!

Katsuki went back inside to the kitchen to grab a popsicle when he heard the tv on, he looked over and saw- denki? Why's he here? Shouldn't he be outside?

Katsuki rolled his eyes and walked over, flicking Denkis forehead,

"Oi, spark-plug. What are you doing inside? Too lazy to socialise now?"

"Just wanna be in here." Denki muttered, an almost...sad tone, to his voice.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, looking at the seemingly sad boy in front of him, once a ray of sunshine, now covered by clouds.

"Tch, what's wrong with you today?" Katsuki muttered, sitting down next to denki.

"...I don't really know. Just kinda feel bummed out." Denki replied softly, looking at katsuki for a few seconds before turning back to the tv slowly.

Katsuki hummed, shifting a bit to get comfortable when he accidentally elbowed Denkis side. This small action earned a quiet squeak and a flinch, oh?

The grin which appeared on Katsuki's face was villainous, where you'd look at him and know you were fucking screwed.

Denki was blissfully unaware. He was upset. Tired. Eyes drooping as he stared at the tv. Not the same denki kaminari everyone loves. Katsuki was going to fix this.

The explosive blonde sat up on his knees, moving too quickly for denki to even react to katsuki grabbing his wrists and flipping him so that he was laying down beneath him.

"Say spark-plug, you wouldn't happen to be....ticklish? Would you?" Katsuki spoke slowly, pinning Denkis hands under his knees as he grinned maliciously.

Denki froze. Of course he was ticklish. Everyone's ticklish!

"i- katsuki dohont-"

The anticipation was holding denki hostage, forcing uncontrollable giggles to spill from his throat as he stared at the clawed hand which hovered over his stomach.

"oh? Giggling already? I haven't even touched you!" Katsuki exclaimed, before slowly letting his hand fall onto denkis torso, spidering slowly around his stomach, sides and ribs. "Oops, now I have"

Denki squealed, giggling frantically yet quietly. Squirming to try and escape the ever so ticklish touch.

"ehEhehe-! Kahahahat-"

"Where are ya bad spots? Hm Mr. Giggles?" Katsuki teased, sero said that his hips were a hotspot...the blonder of the two dug his thumb into denkis hips, eliciting a screech and loud giggles from his mouth.

"ihIHhahaHa- doHONt!"

"Don't what?"

"tIHiCkle MehEhe!...waHahait waIt nohohoho-" The regret- well....not really regret, but the fear set in immediately.

"tickle you? Yeah sure!" Katsuki leaned down, pushing Denkis shirt up so he could do this easier. Taking one finger to trace around his belly button, one to poke and scratch into his belly button, and finally he leaned down and sunk his teeth into denkis hips.

Denki shrieked before erupting into loud, boisterous cackles.

"crAhAHAP- KAHATSUKI! WAHAHAIT!"

"Wait for what sparky? Wait for you to stop being so ticklish? I'm afraid that's never gonna happen! And I definitely won't wait to hear that laugh we've all missed, glad you're not so moody now that you've had some tickle tickle tickles~" Katsuki teased, nibbling and blowing slow raspberries into denkis hips.

His hands moved down, giving the electric boy's thighs a quick squeeze before pausing at his knees. Grinning.

"three...."

Oh fuck.

"two..."

"WAIT WAIT LEHETS TALK! PLEASE! KATSUKI IM BEGGING YOHOU!" Denki was giggling and shrieking, trying to get katsuki away from his poor, sensitive knees.

"one...."

"KATSUKI! DOHONT!"

"aaaand...."

Nononono-

Katsuki dug into where Denkis knees and thighs met with one hand, the other scribbling into the underneaths of his knees. Leaning back down to nibble into his poor hips as well.

Such a blessing curse that denki is sooo ticklish, well, for him at least.

Denki screamed.

"WAHAHAHAHA- NAHAHAHA- KAHAT! KATSUKI! PLEHEHAHAHA- NOHO! IHIHITS TOHOHAHAHA- TOHOO MUHUCH!" Kaminari was in hysterics, his head dropped back as he cackled, writhing and squirming as much as he could to try and evade the heavenly torturous touch of his friend.

Katsuki though, why not step it up a notch? His explosions were at the ready.

Denki froze.

"Say red and I'll slow down," was all katsuki said before setting off explosions. Not painful, agonizingly ticklish. Unbearable even.

He dug and kneaded into the sensitive flesh of Denkis thighs, specifically where they hit his knees, adding explosion after explosion, the boy beneath him shrieking and screeching with every touch.

"OHOKAHAHAHAY- PLEHEHAHAHAHA- RED! REHAHAHA-" Denki screamed, begging for mercy.

Katsuki slowed to a stop...well, kinda. His hands crawled up Denkis legs to his torso, pushing his shirt up one last time.

Denki was drunk with giggles, curled up as much as he could be, in heaven hell.

Katsuki slowly traced all around Denkis stomach, up his ribs, raking his nails into the divets of the bones and wiggling his fingers into the giggly mess' armpits beneath him.

"kitchy kitchy coo~"

Denki giggled loudly, yet, he didn't utter a word of protest. Just happy, loud and seemingly satisfied giggles dripping from his mouth.

"Awh, denks, you enjoying this?"

Denki actually nodded, too dazed by the tickles to get embarrassed. Oh trust me, he will later when katsuki tells him aaalll about this.

Katsuki quickly took a video of denki giggling like a kid, smiling gently to himself as he recorded the electric blonde.

After a bit longer of the calm down tickles, he stopped. Getting off of denki and pulling him to cuddle so he could nap.

Denki was still a giggly mess to say the least, but happily snuggled close to katsuki. Being able to murmur through his hysterics-

"thahanks...I neheeded thahat..."

"you're welcome," katsuki replied gently, though he'd never admit that he actually needed that moment too...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I hope this was okay!!! I really love denki as a character so this was very fun to write :3

If anyone has any more requests I'd be absolutely thrilled to take them!!!!

@roseytheangel

I would @ the asker but I'm not sure who it is sorry !!!

[dadvans]

wip wednesday

bucktommy mpreg :: buck finds out he's pregnant after tommy breaks up with him and they make a mess of the boundaries

Tommy comes up the stairs two at a time when he doesn’t find Buck downstairs.

Think of it, Buck tells himself: Tommy bringing over another guy he knows who can fuck his mouth as good as Tommy can fuck his ass. It drives him right to the brink, and Buck promises himself, he can make it through the finish line and fake a sweaty, heaving nightmare by the time Tommy finds him.

He doesn’t.

“Buck?” Tommy says again, and then he sees Buck like a slug furled out in his sheets writhing and chasing the orgasm that just won’t come, so then he takes that awful one step back down, and says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Oh.”

Buck finally stops fucking his fist and slams his good hand palm flat into the mattress beside him. “Shit! No, I am. I am. Please don’t go. Give me a second. Fuck.”

“Buck,” Tommy says from the stairwell, deeper now, like he’s been weighted down by despair. Buck twists to look at him, but he can’t even see Tommy’s face.

“Sorry, I thought I could,” Buck continues unthinkingly, “I thought I could finish before you came up here. I’ve just been— the hormones are making me crazy. I wasn’t trying to—“

“You told me to come over when our calendars synced up to discuss a birth plan, and—“

“—Yeah, yeah, I absolutely said that and I meant it, and maybe I hoped you would have called or texted first—“

“—I called—“

“—Shit! Sorry, fuck. Have you ever heard of pregnancy brain?” He feels delirious. Too horny and trying to find the one branch on his way down that will bear his weight. His dick is throbbing, even when its only half-hard now. There’s this ugly need to get off roiling through him like a hot pot of water left on a stove too long, ready to boil into nothing at all if left alone. “It’s that, I swear. I’m so fucking horny right now I wish I knew what’s right and what’s wrong. I thought I could fake it, get off and whoever came in, no one would know, but I heard your voice, and, fuck, Tommy, please.”

“Buck.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your call.” He looks away, chin tilting back up to the ceiling as he slides his flat palm down the underside of his hard dick and thrusts against it, dry grooves and all. “It could’ve been my fucking mom, I wouldn’t have known.”

Buck hears Tommy breathe in and out from so far away, the same measured, shaky rhythm as his hand, slow and cruel, keeping every last ugly feeling alive.

“Want me to meet you outside, what, ten minutes?” Tommy asks. “Twenty?”

He should say yes, sorry, yes, please, he’s so fucking sorry. It’s these goddamn hormones, it’s this goddamn oops baby, he’ll get his shit together, buttoned up and on schedule, regular, as soon as he can.

But then there’s the thought of Tommy, two fingers in his ass, gritty with lube and slow as anything, them rocking together in the same spot he’s in now. There’s Tommy picking him up behind the thighs to get the back of Buck’s knees cradling his shoulders, driving into him so deep that Buck could taste him, right in this bed, moaning shaky into the same pillow he’s already sweating into like the walls would’ve fallen down around them. There’s Tommy, voice honey warm, saying, “There you go, baby, take it, take it all.” A ledger of things that would make his breaker box burst if he were an old home.

He closes his eyes, grinds his teeth together. “These hormones are just over-riding everything else in my brain, okay. And it doesn’t have to mean anything, but it would be a lot quicker if you came up here instead and helped.”

He expects Tommy to say no. He expects Tommy to say, in the best case scenario, “You know I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” He expects Tommy to say, in the worst case scenario, “Go fuck yourself.”

The tiniest hope, the ugliest hope that lives too deep down for Buck to think about, bursts hot and heavy when Tommy sighs and takes the few steps back upstairs.

[am-i-interrupting]

Hello! I really love your work, I just HAD to pop in your inbox after seeing your fics about Alastor's daughter.

What if Alastor's daughter is an angel that is scared of demons.

Like, when they were alive, Alastor's daughter used to be such a sweet child and I mean SWEET. Would never hurt a soul. Though she got killed at a young age because of envious children her age, left her in the forest to scare her but she got mauled by wolves and died.

Before she died, she was aware of Alastor's killings but she wouldn't speak up because she was too scared. IMAGINE ALASTOR BEING SUCH A LOVING DAD BUT ALL SHE CAN THINK ABOUT IS WHAT IF SHES NEXT IF SHE FUCKS UP AROUND HIM.

And he's not aware that she thinks that way. So when Sera sent her to investigate the Hazbin Hotel (to see if Charlie's theory is really true) she sees Alastor and gets tense even though he's so sincere around her.

How would everything gooo omg I'd like to see how creative you'll get!!

.

You never hurt a soul and that’s what helped you get into heaven.

You loved your father. You did but you were also terrified of him.

He was a serial killer, a murderer, and even if he tucked you into bed at night and made the best food, you could still be next.

You felt guilty the day he died because while you were heartbroken you were also so relieved.

You confessed to the police his sins as soon as they came to the house to break the news of his death.

You were crying, choking on tears as you told them everything.

It was the best and worst day of your life.

Despite that, life remained difficult for you.

People were cruel and mean and heartless and you died before the age of twenty.

You made it to Heaven.

You were a top winner, one revered for their kindness.

That’s how you got asked by Sera to go to Hell to observe Charlie’s idea first hand. Her being too untrusting of the angels to not start killing and “sanitizing” Hell as soon as they got there.

You were excited. You met Charlie while she was in Heaven.

She was somewhat of a kindred spirit. You got on with her well.

(Alastor actually does reminisce over you and his mother both in Hell. The lyric “You’re like a child that I wish that I had” in Hells Greatest Dad would have been changed to “You’re like the child which I used to have.”)

You went through the portal with her and Vaggie.

Both girls seemed conflicted, something must have happened during the meeting they had with the angels but Charlie quickly put on a smile and started explaining what everything was.

When you get to the Hotel, you seem him. You never thought you’d see your father again. You weren’t sure you wanted to even if you missed him. You immediately froze.

His brows furrowed as he looked at you before his smile widened, sharp teeth replacing the human ones you once knew but they were still coffee-stained.

“Is that my darling angel?” he asked as he walked towards you. “My dear, look how you’ve grown.”

He used the tips of his fingers to angle your face towards him and you couldn’t pull away. You were frozen in place, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You two know each other?” Charlie asked.

“Why yes, we do indeed,” Alastor said. “You recall I mentioned having a child.”

“Oh my god! Oops, sorry. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all. But this is so great!”

“Yeah,” you said meekly. “So great.”

Alastor would notice something wrong. He remembers your behaviors well. He’d try to make you comfortable while unknowingly pressing your buttons more.

Everyone else also notices something wrong, except Niffty.

Sir Pentious and Charlie likely think you’re just anxious and try to make you feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible.

Vaggie assumes it’s because you’re in Hell.

Husk and Angel realize it’s because Alastor’s there.

The two team up to make sure you’re never ever left completely alone.

They even manage to pull you away for a bit.

Husk offers some good advice and true silence not filled with the background of a radio crackling.

Angel let’s you bury your head in his fluff.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Stunts

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Oops, she did it again 🙄

A/N: Sorry to disappear for so long. Motivation is hard to find these days.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, broken bones.

“I’m not sure who I’m more afraid for.”

Wanda sighs in defeat as Steve and her brother open the back door for her. She’s exhausted and very worried about what’s about to happen as soon as she leaves the car. Today had been a whirlwind and she should be more stressed about how poorly that worked out, but now she had something else to concern herself with.

“Ow, fuck!”

Wanda stops short of scooting out of the car as she hits her leg on the seat. She has her back to the duo because she’d figured that the best way to get out was to have them lift her. She was regretting this decision immediately. Her brother grabs her shoulders while Steve stands by anxiously with the wheelchair, and Wanda sighs in defeat.

“Not helping, Pietro.”

Wanda knows that she’s certainly more afraid for herself right now. Steve will be fine. You might be a little annoyed at him, but ultimately Wanda made her own decisions and both of you knew it. Unfortunately, this included her less than stellar decisions. Like the one she’d made today.

As usual, Wanda had been working today, and unfortunately that mostly consisted of running errands. She and Steve had taken a wrong turn though, and ended up in enemy territory. Despite trying to escape undetected, they ended up being followed and a shootout had ensued.

Pietro can’t help but smile slightly at his sister’s predicament. After hearing about what happened, he’d mostly been concerned about his sister. However, once he realized that she was stable he asked her for the full story. Steve and Wanda gave a slightly different one, but the end result was the same.

“So, are you going to tell Y/n that you jumped out of a car?”

Wanda grunts in annoyance as she’s set in the wheelchair that she’s going to hate before the end of the day. She glares at her brother before she turns to look over her shoulder at Steve. He was smarter than she was, and as the driver he did a good job of losing most of the cars that had been following them. It was just the last one that he couldn’t shake that led them into a trap and got them in trouble. Luckily a head-on collision only resulted in Steve getting a couple of scrapes and bruises. Unfortunately, Wanda had been half out the window shooting at their pursuers, and she’d been thrown from the car. She’d landed on her leg and immediately realized she’d broken it, but she’s had to roll out of the way to avoid getting run over.

Steve sighs inaudibly as he follows Pietro’s lead to the elevator. Wanda wants to tell him that she doesn’t need him to push her, but she was sore all over and appreciated not having to strain herself.

“I didn’t jump Pietro! I fell.”

Pietro just hums in acknowledgment before pressing the up button to the elevator. It was nearly 8pm, and despite being briefed about Wanda’s late night, you hadn’t been told about what happened. This probably wasn’t the best decision that Wanda’s made today, but she’s about to find out if it’s the worst. She hopes you’re not too angry with her, but there’s really only one way to find out.

As Steve rolls her into the elevator, she takes a deep breath before she starts to fiddle with her rings. She probably was going to be couched for at least a week.

You’re upstairs finishing up dinner when Wanda returns to the compound. You had wanted to wait for her but you really never knew when she’d be back on the days where she said she would be late without any sort of elaboration. It could be a couple hours late, or she could come home a couple of hours before you had to wake up. It just depended on the day and what Wanda had to do, but luckily today was an earlier night for your wife.

You smile at the sound of the door opening, and you’re about to greet your wife when something odd catches your attention. You aren’t surprised to hear more than one set of footsteps, but there’s another sound, something rolling you think, that confuses you.

“Wanda?”

You round the counter and you’re surprised to see both Steve and Pietro, but this quickly becomes overridden by the sight of your wife sitting in a wheelchair. She has a cast covering a majority of her leg, and you stare in shock for a few seconds before you find your voice and look between the trio in concern.

“Wands, what happened??”

You hurry forward when you see Wanda reach out for the crutches in her brother’s hands. She wants to stand up and hug you, but Pietro doesn’t hand them over, and you are already on your knees beside her to stop her.

“I had a bit of an accident, but I’m okay.”

You frown at this as you grab Wanda’s hand and squeeze it with a worried look. You need more information than this, and eventually you need to know why you’re only just finding out about it. Instead, you focus on your wife and how she’s feeling. She looks tired and her face is covered in tiny scratches and a few larger bruises. You hate to see her hurt, and you can’t help but want to keep her hidden here in your rooms until she’s fully healed.

“What happened? How did you break your leg?”

Pietro decides that he’s not needed here, and after setting Wanda’s crutches aside he starts to walk away. You shoot him a confused look, but Wanda just sighs before deciding to get right to it. She doesn’t need Steve and Pietro to hang around for your reaction to what she says next, but she doesn’t want to ask them to go. You might take that the wrong way.

“I fell out of a moving car.”

Steve and Pietro ended up leaving not too long after Wanda tells you about what her day had been like. She’s surprised that you’re not angry at her. It’s not like she’d actually jumped out of the car, and maybe she’d been a little reckless, but you were mostly worried about her. You heated up her dinner and helped her eat once she told you that she was a little sore. You’d insisted on keeping her from doing much of anything for the rest of the night. You’d set her up on the couch after dinner and you were carefully looking over the drugs that she’d been sent home with a frown.

“Are you wanting to take all of these?”

You loved your wife, you really did, but it hadn’t taken you long to realize that she was a lightweight. When it came to pain killers, she would usually get knocked out regardless of how much she took. It was a little puzzling given how much she could drink, but you knew better than to bring that up right now. Wanda was frowning too because she was beginning to realize how long 6 weeks would last with you doting on her and not letting her do anything that might be considered strenuous.

Wanda just shakes her head before mentioning how loopy she’d been after she’d woken up from surgery. She regrets saying this immediately because you stiffen and shoot her an incredulous look that makes her cower.

“Wait, you had surgery today? And you didn’t tell me?”

You would admit that you were a little annoyed that Wanda hadn’t told you about what happened right when it happened. That said, you know your wife, and she liked to save the bad news for when everything was already worked out and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. It was infuriating and despite the urge to couch your wife when she did something like this, you’re not sure she would really ever change.

This however was different because there’s no circumstance where you feel that it’s okay for her to have surgery and not tell you about it. Wanda seems to realize why you’re mad too, but she doesn’t get to speak up before you’re standing with a huff of annoyance.

“You went under and didn’t bother to tell me about it? What the hell, Wanda?”

You storm off to the kitchen before Wanda can respond, and she cringes when she hears you slam a cabinet shut before turning on the sink. You come back scowling as you hand your wife the glass of water before opening one of her bottles to give her a pill.

“I didn’t mean--.”

“Take this, then let me know when you want to sleep. You can sleep in bed with me, but you’re not getting any until this is healed, understand?”

Wanda’s face pales a little but she eventually nods before looking away to hide her embarrassment. She should have known that you weren’t going to let her off the hook. She also knows better than to argue when you’ve clearly made your mind up about something, so she just nods with a defeated sigh.

“Understood.”

Masterlist

[yourlocalstranger123]

Head empty.....sub brat kafka and sub good girl himeko

Kafka is the brat in the relationship who always shows off for you and always finds new ways to push your buttons

"What if i don't?"

"Was i not supposed to wear this today.....my bad~"

"Then why don't you come and make me"

So its no surprise when she goes from brat to whining puppy when you have her pinned under you and getting fucked stupid with a vibrator up her ass and your hands around her throat you'd think she'd learn her lesson only to do it again the next day

"is that ah~ all you've got AGH! FUCK ME DADDY/MOMMY I'LL BE GOOD JUST GO HARDER!!!"

"That's right spank me nice and rough AH~ put me in my fucking place AH~ make my ass red~ AH~ I just came from being spanked~ waves her ass teasingly I'm such a bad girl~

"i-im sorry daddy/mommy~ Ah~ i can't cum anymore~"

Meanwhile himeko is an absolute sweetheart and good girl always follows orders, wears what you tell her too wear (even goes commando if you tell her to but she demands cuddles as payment)

"Can i wear this today, i bought it for you in mind"

"Do you want me to give you a massage baby? you look tense"

"This skirt is a little short....okay but only for you"

She's so cute when you fuck her, letting out gasps and small whines at every kiss along her neck, teasing her nipples with your tounge and teeth just to make her squirm, the way she cutely begs you to eat her out everytime before you fuck her because she loves being overstimulated by your cock/strap, whimpering and moaning while calling you daddy/mommy the whole time and saying how good you make her feel desperate to be praised by you~

"Ah~ yes like thaaah~ Daddy/Mommy"

"Your tounge is so deep~ mmmm~ please put your cock/strap in Ah~ fuck me till i cry"

"Does daddy/mommy like when i ride your fat cock/strap Ah~ i take it nice and deep cause I'm a good girl, please call me a good girl again~"

And when you have both of them in bed it's unreal these two beautiful women begging you to fuck them till they break while you plow Kafka's insides and punish her himeko is right there riding your fingers while kissing your neck and encouraging you as she watches the bratty stellaron hunter get pounded by their shared lover

"Oh yeah daddy/mommy fuck her nice and hard mmmmm~ kisses your neck before slapping Kafka's breasts making her moan break that little brat then break me~

"Watching you pound himeko from behind oooh what's wrong himeko didn't you want daddy/mommy to break you like they did me~ leans back opens her legs now be a good girl and put that mouth to use daddy/mommy loves watching you work AH~ good girl~"

You don't know how you got these beautiful women to love you but your definitely not complaining

Im....speechless, LIKE WOW. I love this though.

Another scenario; Kafka being a brat once again, but this time, she drags good girl himeko into her troubles! Himeko wants to be your good girl so badly but you haven't fucked her for a whole month :(.

While you were in your office, doing some papers and reports until you got a notification. Seems it's from Kafka. Wonder what she sended you? You see a video of Himeko slightly shivering, slightly sobbing onto Kafka shoulders as they both ride a dilido.

Hearing Himeko saying light sorry's as Kafka said; "see you at home darling~♡"

And when you finally get home, as your jacket slightly slipping off, hair ruffled and panting when you opened the door. You put the jacket down, locking the door as you went to the bedroom. Hearing moans, and some whining.

A sight greets you of himeko begging for forgiveness, as Kafka shudders in excitement of what you'll do. (Oops. Got a little too far but love this and the art!)

I might use your art, so can I? I

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 7: How They Kept Him Very Well

Wordcount: 1.1K

~~~~

“You know, if you keep feeding me like this, I’m going to gain weight,” Virgil says, settling back in his chair with immense satisfaction.

“No offense, but you look like you could use it, Jack Skellington,” Roman tells him.

“Hey!” Virgil protests, though he isn’t actually particularly offended. Roman’s not wrong, for one thing. Virgil certainly doesn’t have the time and energy—or skill, honestly—to make as good food as Patton does. These last couple days have been the most well-fed he’s been since he moved out to be an independent adult.

Roman pushes his chair back and hops up. “Ready for movies?” he asks eagerly, already heading for the doorway.

“Roman Augustus Sanders, do not leave your plate on the table,” Logan says tiredly, but without heat. Roman freezes mid-step, shoulders raising guiltily. Slowly, cartoonishly stiffly, he spins back around.

“Oops.”

“I can’t stay anyway, remember?” Virgil asks. “I gotta get going so I can bike home before it gets dark.”

Roman's eyes go wide. “I. Forgot,” he says with a grimace.

“It is well past sunset,” Logan informs Virgil. “I am afraid that ‘before it gets dark’ is no longer possible tonight.”

“Oh.” Well, fuck. What's he supposed to do now!?

“Sorry,” Roman says. “I did not take the passage of time into consideration. I'll make it up to you. Do you want me to drive you home? I'll drive you home right away. Or you could spend the night again, and I'll take you to work in the morning?”

“I have tomorrow off, actually,” Virgil says, which is the first thing he can think of in response to that extremely generous offer. Roman brightens.

“Oh, perfect!” he says. “That means you can stay the night and then take your bike home tomorrow when it's light out!”

Virgil hesitates, glancing at the others. “Are… you sure that's okay?” he asks.

Logan shrugs. “Unless you have plans for your day off and would prefer to be taken home tonight, that would seem to be the most expedient method,” he says.

“No, I… No, no plans,” Virgil says.

“So you’ll stay?” Roman asks. Virgil hesitates, then nods. Roman whoops, bouncing. “So can we watch Unfortunate Events then?” he asks hopefully.

Virgil can’t help smiling, Roman’s excitement contagious. “Sure, soon as you take care of your dishes,” he says.

Roman sticks his tongue out at him, coming back to gather them up and take them into the kitchen. 

Virgil takes care of his own, and Logan puts the leftovers away tonight. The instant their dishes are rinsed and in the dishwasher, Roman whisks Virgil off to the theater again.

One episode follows another, as they eagerly discuss, theorize, and refuse to stop on cliffhangers. They pause, once, because Roman wants to make popcorn, and once more a few episodes later for a bathroom break, but otherwise they continue watching episodes back to back.

Eventually, Patton interrupts their marathon. He’s wearing his grey cat onesie again, and yawns as he opens the door.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” he asks.

Roman pauses the episode and glances at his wrist, on which he is not wearing a watch. “What time is it?” he asks.

“Midnight-thirty,” Calico says, and yawns again. “Logan’s already asleep.”

Roman catches Virgil’s eyes and makes a wide-eyed whoops expression at him. “Stop after this one?” he suggests, and glances at the screen again. “I think we’re almost done.” He presses a button on the remote and pulls up the time bar thing. “Yeah, ten minutes left,” he says.

“Sounds doable,” Virgil says, glad that he doesn’t have to get up for work tomorrow. It’s going to take him a while to wind down enough to fall asleep, and if it’s already past midnight, he would have had no chance of getting anywhere near enough sleep. Hopefully they won’t mind him sleeping in, because otherwise they're going to have to literally drag him out of bed in the morning, and that might spoil their weirdly good opinions of him. “Probably another cliffhanger though.”

“Probably,” Roman agrees. He sucks in a breath, drawing himself up. “We shall have to be strong and resist the siren’s call of another episode.”

“Ten minutes?” Patton asks.

“Ten minutes, beloved,” Roman promises.

“Okay,” Patton says sleepily, and closes the door again.

Ten minutes later, they are indeed left on a cliffhanger. It takes real effort not to continue despite their promise, but Roman visibly gathers his strength, screws up his face, and points the remote at the tv. “For love and cuddles,” he says, pressing the power button.

“Where should I sleep tonight?” Virgil asks as Roman leads him tiredly up the stairs.

Roman shrugs. “Same room as last time unless you’d rather join us,” he says. “We can share Paddy Bear.”

That’s… that’s a joke, right? Roman didn’t just seriously invite Virgil into his bed, invite him to cuddle with his boyfriend. Right? Virgil chuckles uncertainly. He’s even tireder than he thought, to not catch the jesting tone. Or maybe Roman’s too tired and deadpanned too hard.

Probably a combination of both, Virgil decides. It is late. “I think I’d better not,” he says, trying to match Princey’s levity. “I don’t know if you snore.”

Roman gasps in pretend offense, pressing his hand to his chest. Then he leans forward and relates in a conspiratorial tone, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Logan snores like the most adorable rumbly kitten purr.”

“Does he?” Virgil says, grinning. Roman nods happily.

“He does,” he says. “It is adorable, but it does take some getting used to, so I can’t blame you for wanting your own room.” Roman yawns, then reaches up to pat Virgil’s shoulder. “Night, Spoops,” he says. “See you in… I dunno, prolly not the morning. See you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Princey,” Virgil answers. “Sleep well.”

Roman pats Virgil on the shoulder again, then shuffles off into his bedroom.

The room they had put Virgil in last time is nearly as he left it, except that the pajamas have been moved to the nightstand. Virgil carefully does not touch the bed as he changes, knowing that if he had been unwilling to leave it the first night, the exhaustion he can feel in his bones will make it a veritable black hole of comfort tonight.

Pajama-clad, Virgil turns off the light and climbs into bed. He sinks into the softness, comfort claiming him, and is asleep faster than he knew was humanly possible.

~~~~

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

[bleue-flora]

It’s honestly really nice seeing people talk about c!Tommy that aren’t just Inniters or believe he’s never done anything wrong. However, if you ever wanted to send any c!Tommy related questions my way, I’m one of a few who doesn’t baby him so… heartless self promo /j. Love reading your essays <3

-date: December 23, 2024-

I think some would disagree with you lol, as I don’t think I’m very liked in the inniter community. Which is sad to me to be honest, because I feel like my opinion changes all the time and I may say one thing now and a contradicting thing in a month. And I think in general it’s sad that people would block others just because they disagree or saw one take or post they dislike. One because I think surrounding yourself with the same opinions is a great way to end up in an echo chamber, and isn’t there a scroll by button lol like I certainly don’t agree or love everything some people post especially as shipping personally isn’t really my thing, but I just scroll by. Plus, I mean I feel like I do try and be fair. I feel like for everytime I may bash Tommy, I say something positive about him. And he’s hardly the only character I’ve bashed to be fair. I mean from a writer standpoint his character arc is rather interesting and the way it entangles with Dream’s is noteworthy, which is why I end up inevitably talking about him a lot

I think what’s interesting is that often I think my problem isn’t struggling to understand Tommy as much as innitors. I think at the end of the day, I want to read someone’s analysis or points and try to understand them because I think people do have different ways of seeing things and that’s interesting. But so often I get caught up in lore inaccuracy and such that I can’t even get to the take or analysis. And I don’t know, I haven’t been apart of other fandoms, but I feel like Batman and Joker fans aren’t nearly as toxic to each other as c!Tommy fans and c!Dream fans. And it’s something I find kinda fascinating and sad, a mystery I feel like I try to solve, like why is that divide so strong. How can a fandom all love something so strongly and yet treat fellow fans of different characters with such vitriol. I think it’s why I’ve written essays on bias, it’s why I’ve written essays on correcting common lore misconceptions, it’s probably why I’ve even recently put together a whole extensive Tommy dsmp lore YouTube playlist [here], it’s why I did my polls a while back, because I was curious if there was something about family dynamics or neurodivergence that played a piece into this divide. And part of that mystery started for me back when we got the finale because like hating a bad ending is fine, Game of Thrones is a great example, I think Supernatural’s ending is maybe the worst ending ever, but I thought the finale of disc duo was good so why do so many people hate it, not even just the fandom as a whole but mostly fans of specific character(s). Even when unlike Game of Thrones and Supernatural, the actors of the characters actually wrote the ending…. anyways oops, sorry I ramble.

Thanks for reading my essays and glad you enjoy them <3 <3 and thanks for opening up the conversation and being inviting :)