#I struggled for a bit to decide what style to do it in

[robo-milky]

hiii milkyyyy! u’ve been popping out so many manga pages and i’m just so amazed?? i’ve been wanting to get back to manga drawing so can i ask for some tips? like what’s your process and how do you decide the screen tones/sfx/effects/speechbubbles to use? the latter is something i’m struggling with 😭

tyyy 💕

Hi Yudi, thanks for dropping by!

General note: One thing I’ve learned about trying to go for a more manga-esque style is that there’s really no particular way to do it, and EVERY artist does it differently. Everything I do here is a blend of my own style and things from JP artists I admire! However, the most important thing is that panels aren’t meant to be masterpieces but to convey information and get the dialogue going.

This process will be CSP oriented. I’ve made a mini screen tone tutorial (and how to turn on Layer Property) but I did not talk about my own settings ^^ You’re free to do any resolution you want, though I stick to drawing on a B4 template for fun (and imagine that one day my stuff can get published /j). I hope this helps, as I’m still trying to figure my own style and set limits on the details too.

[Process]

Script + Thumbnail

I used to wing stuff for one-pagers, but now I’ve found that scripting and thumbnailing has made my process so much faster. (Omg it’s almost like people make drafts for a reason- @ me cause I hate planning)

There’s no standards of a comic script, and each publisher has their own format. My usual scripts don’t separate pages, since I leave that to the thumbnailing once I do dialogue placement. If trying to imagine panels without seeing them overwhelming, at least get the dialogue down.

The B4 thumbnail template I use is pretty darn big, so it also doubles as the sketching stage. Once the thumbnails are done, I transfer them (screenshot) to a comic file on CSP. Once the set up is done, I do speech bubbles + dialogue first, insert the frames, then get to the line art. Since I don’t think anyone is actually gonna print their works, you’re free to trim your canvas however you want to post online 🫡

Speech Bubbles

Any speech bubble can work and will eventually blend in as the viewer is reading, but I have a vendetta against super flat/digital-looking ones. I made a custom brush for a textured speech bubble pen with line width by adjusting its taper and changing the brush shape. Published manga are a different story, but I like the more organic polygonal bubble shapes from indie artists-

For different shapes and situation… Squares - Narration, Flash/Urchin - Character thoughts/internal monologue, Hexagon - Phone call/text (not a concrete rule but a common pattern)

You can also add emanata (sparkles/symbols) on the bubbles for flairs as you see fit.

Screen tone (Please read the linked mini-tutorial above)

I split my tones into two folders. One specifically for black, and greys.

I first fill in all black areas, the duplicate them. The top layer will be the shadows (remains pure black), and the bottom layer is set to [Opacity 75%] and turned into a screen tone layer with a [frequency of 45-50] (It must always be at a lower frequency than the greys). To add texture, I use a grainy brush to erase bits of pure black on a mask. To show light on the screen tone layer, I use gradient erase on a mask.

For the greys, I split them into three tones (dark grey, medium grey, light grey) all in the same folder so they don’t overlap and it’s easier to fix. I use a [frequency of 75] or any number higher than the screen tone in the black layer. Overall, tones can be as simple and complex as you want, but it’s best to save more detailed tones for important panels. (Planning to change this as I’ve realized how big the B4 canvas actually is, and the frequency doesn’t need to be so high- The size of screen tone is a preference. This example was done on a smaller canvas, so higher frequencies still look less pixelated/small.)

Emanata/SFX

Special effects is whatever the situation calls for! It can to make a blank canvas feel more dynamic, to evoke certain emotions, hint/foreshadow. It’s best used sparingly on important panels you think would be the most important… but how do you get those effects?

THE CLIP STUDIO ASSETS STORE- Or draw/download your own depending on the program (You have no idea- ever since I downloaded too, I can’t unsee them in other works of artists I like 😭) Not used in the example but these are my essentials- You can also find a lot of gems if you straight up search “manga” and see the most popular assets.

Another good place to find comic fonts in general is blambot.com (?). They have quite a bit of free, personal use fonts if you ever need flavour text when italics or bold isn’t enough. (Current font used is Anime Ace 3 Regular BB).

Happy creating and feel free to ask if anything was unclear ^^

[populousgraph]

HAPPY 4TH ANNIVERSARY THSC!!!

It may seem like I'm new to this fandom, but I'm not. I got super into thsc about 4 years ago (which is when it released), and kinda had fun with it. Unfortunately, I don't have the history that some people have with this game, and that does make me kinda sad, but I'm glad to be here anyway!

I hope that I continue to fixate on this fandom for weeks in the future. I'm just having that much fun!

4 years is crazy. I can hold that on one hand, man.

I do have some extra stuff to share as well. For example, my oc's trying to celebrate the anniversary.

And failing. Carter dropped the cake. XD

It's okay, though. Devin is making him feel better with terrible puns and jokes.

That's all! Please enjoy your day!

[termagax]

i cant post the full of these until tommorow but bweeeeeee isnt he so cuteness

[wolviensabes]

Logan and pregnancy.

RQ: 'Logan taking care of his pregnant girlfriend perchance 🤔' -@wheezyth3dem0n

Warnings: F!reader, pregnancy themes, written in HC style.

A/N: I just wrote pregnancy hcs on my main blog so let's keep the theme going. Ignore grammar mistakes, not edited.

Logan knows you're pregnant instantly when the scent of your hormones change.

He looks to you and he isn't sure how to feel just yet. He hadn't planned on getting you pregnant, it wasn't something that he ever thought about. But it was his reality now, and he wasn't too sure on how to feel.

He was just a little wary jumping into something so permeant, considering your lifestyles. The dangers that are involved, all he thought about was how the baby would be in constant danger. Especially knowing it would most likely be mutant.

You were a little hurt, knowing he was a bit standoffish since the discovery, but after some thinking he had come around and explained what he was thinking about, and how he was just worried about its upbringing. It was reassuring that he comforted you in this sense, even if it initially hurt when he backed off.

"M'sorry, this is all...new to me. I never thought I'd be a dad...of all people." Logan grumbled to you, rubbing your back to try to reassure you that he was happy, it was just...a lot for him to take in.

When you begin to show, Logan's presence starts to become more and more. His missions are spread out a bit more, and he spends more time around you. At first, your pregnancy is mostly independent, besides him being around in the evening. You figure it's because he's still processing that you are carrying his kin, but as he starts to come around more often, you're surprised but decide not to mention it.

Logan starts to observe you closer, his hands often find your belly and rub it. He can hear the heartbeat, and he leans closer so he can rest by your belly. Most nights are like this when he's not holding you. He pays close attention to your habits, as well as schedule, memorizing everything you do day to day. When you get a little bigger, he notices daily tasks are a bit more difficult for you.

"Let me help," Logan insisted gruffly, watching you try to pick up clothes for laundry. He worded it more like a demand than offer, he didn't like how you were bending over so often.

"I got it, Logan, really," your stubbornness insisted you could handle it, but he had his doubts. He could see your clear struggle, he could sense you were tired but you were so stubborn.

"Enough." he demanded and gently pulled you away from the laundry, his arms strong around you and easily maneuvering you around. He sat you down and pointed at you. "Stay." he ordered.

Logan brings you food, he doesn't cook a lot but he still tries. He gets help from Jean or Storm. But he's always the one to bring it to you. He displays a lot of instinctual habits by now, especially since you're showing more now. Something inside him just...triggers when he sees your swollen belly. When you walk around the mansion for some exercise, he is right there with you, his eyes scanning the halls and every single person around you.

He growls at people who come close, he is so insanely protective over you now. It shocks you the first time he about lunges at Scott when he asked you how far along you were. "Logan!" you watched your feral boyfriend literally snarling at Scott.

"Get your eye off her, slim." he hissed, his voice was venomous and mean. Scott was just as surprised, even for Logan he was acting much more aggressive. You pulled Logan along, muttering an apology to Scott along the way.

"Logan what the hell! He was just asking how far I was," you muttered, your bristled boyfriend still had an irritated expression. His nostrils flared as he looked down at you. "Easy...it's fine. He's gone, just relax..." you rubbed your hands over his chest, soothing him from his protective mode.

He piles you into the shared room you have, he gets you all settled on the bed and cozy, there are so many blankets and pillows there and they act as excellent support for your large belly. He makes sure you're as comfy as possible, he fusses a lot by grumbling and making sure you have enough blankets. "Keep the baby warm." he grunts at you, covering you with a blanket as if your baby will get cold.

Logan likes to lay close to your belly, he can hear the baby and smell the change you emit because of all the hormones. He hears the baby moving around too, he enjoys listening to his little one in there.

You end up bound to the bed for a while, your ankles were so swollen and you were weak as the pregnancy progressed. You relied on him and he was more than happy to comply. He rubs your swollen ankles and feet, leaning forward and letting his facial hair tickle your belly.

When you feel your hormones flare, you get emotional and worried about labor and birth, all the normal worries for a mother to be. Logan sits with you and lets you vent your worries, but he is also the voice of reason during your emotional episodes. He always reassured you, telling you it would be alright, he was here with you, and he'd never let anything happen to you.

When your little one does arrive, it will be the most protected baby on the planet, not only the baby, but you too. Like hell anyone will get the chance to harm you with Logan by your side.

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[redflagshipwriter]

Ghost Driver 6

Masterpost

His body was shaking. Jason came back to himself in fits and starts, mind suffering through the sludge of a concussion and heavy duty pain medication. His ears had finally stopped ringing after the explosion. He was aware enough to know that he had been in and out of it for what must have been hours.

He checked in with himself: he hurt. His body hurt, like he had hit a wall at high speed because of the uh, the explosion. His eye ached obnoxiously, and he had a crick in his neck. Jason rolled it cautiously. “This is not my beautiful sofa,” he said. Where was he? He should be sleeping off his injuries in a shitty cold apartment in downtown Gotham. The world rumbled around him like he was on top of an old water heater, or traveling at high speed.

“Definitely not,” said Dickie.

Oh. It was another dream. He closed his eyes. There was no scenario in which Batman took him back to the cave that didn’t involve waking up on a bed in a room with no shoelaces. He was scrunched into the front seat of a vehicle– that was the source of the shaking. A motor. He peeled open one eye to reconfirm that the world outside was wavy and green.

“This is different.” He didn’t feel much of anything when he looked at it. It was kinda dumb. He deserved a more substantial hallucinatory sequence after the new worst day of his life “Hey, was I really fuckin annoying when I was little? Is that why you didn’t like me? Because I dreamed I was on a road trip with little me and I gotta say, he didn’t deserve to have his head beat in with a crowbar, but he was truly obnoxious.” He grimaced. So sincere. Christ. He was an idiot and he always had been. Of course Bruce would never choose his son over his morals.

“Not a dream,” said a new voice. “Sorry.” They coughed.

Wait. Jason struggled to put it together. He did know that voice, but the guy it came out of was all wrong. “You look like a space mermaid,” he told Danny Fenton disapprovingly. “I am not a pirate. What are you doing? There’s no coherency in this dream.” He waved a hand around and immediately regretted it. “Go back to your other face.”

“Uh.” Danny sounded nervous. “This is just what I look like, all the time.” He gave a very bad fake laugh.

That was suspicious. Jason considered this. Fuck, his head was pounding. He sat up and fought past nausea to assess what was going on around him better.

Dick was staring at him inside the cockpit of an unidentified vehicle. He was aiming for a cheerfully detached mien, but Jason saw right through it. Dick was stressed out of his big dumb pumpkin head. Next to him was a Robin.

Jason narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t a ghost or vision. That was the new kid, upgraded uniform and all. “You lack panache,” he told Tim Drake disdainfully. He skimmed over the techno mermaid version of the incredibly hot getaway driver he had promised to protect from Batman and had the dim suspicion that he had fucked that up. He nodded at the vampire who was driving their spaceship through green air. “Hey, man.”

“...Hello,” said the vampire.

“Ignore him,” Danny hastily said. He gave Jason a queasy smile and twisted his fingers together. “You’re up up now? Sorry, you missed kiiiind of a lot. When you didn’t come back I decided to figure out what happened to you and I did kidnap a guy, so we have to fix that with paperwork.” He paused. “Also I did kidnap Robin a little bit. But that was an honest mistake! I thought he was dead.”

Jason watched this babbling, perplexed but charmed. “Who else did you kidnap?” His voice was a little choked up. He had kidnapped Robin? Batman must be losing his mind. He fought down a hysterical giggle. Dickie was here too, hell. The Bat-aneurism would be blinding.

The vampire heaved a massively put-upon sigh. “Some ruffian styling himself as a Joker,” he drawled. He was so powerfully unimpressed that his words took a moment to penetrate Jason’s brain.

He froze.

“So dear Phantom here gifted him to Skulker.” He pronounced ‘Skulker’ like the name might leave mud in his mouth if he wasn’t careful with it. “Skulker is disinterested in giving up his toy, so we are now in a very exciting chase.” The vampire sneered.

Jason hauled himself upwards with difficulty. His body felt so heavy. Every muscle hurt. “We are chasing him?”

“No, he is chasing us.” Dick pointed a thumb towards the back. “We’re, uh.” His whole face twitched. “We’re towing the Joker behind us. Skulker keeps trying to harpoon him to get him back.”

The ship jerked violently. Jason looked over to the vampire pilot, who was serenely unaffected by the violent subject matter.

He took a moment to experience childlike wonder. What had Danny done while he was unconscious? How had he pulled this off? Was it an elaborate proposal? If so, he didn’t need to try that hard, goddamn. Jason had an empty ring finger.

Jason considered all of this and tried to be cool about it. “What’s the end goal?”

Dickie leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and make deadpan eye contact. “We are going to take the Joker to a private prison in the Infinite Realms run by a cowboy ghost named Walker, and I am going to oversee transfer paperwork to give to Inspector Gordon.” He said it all like it made some sense. “Can’t have the Joker disappear without a record.”

“...Right,” Jason said, remembering that bit of information. He inserted as much disdain as possible into his voice for the sheer fun of it. “You’re a fucking cop.”

Dickie flinched.

“That’s right,” Danny said, pleased and impressed. “How did you know that? I found him at the police station and he said he would help out. This is my estranged godfather vampire, Vlad.” He gestured at the driver. “And I’m Phantom,” he said, despite being obviously Danny Fenton in a superhero transformation.

“...I’m Jason, but you can call me honey,” he said.

Dick choked on air.

Phantom flushed a very pleasing teal.

Jason flung an arm over Danny’s shoulder and reeled him in. He might have also leaned on him a bit, but that was the blood loss talking. He wasn’t swooning. “Tell me about this prison and how you feel about gold versus silver.”

Drake made a gagging sound.

“No, shh,” Dickie said quietly. “I want to see where this is going.”

[nerdlvr]

why did this chair have to be so damn loud.

donghyuck winced as he pulled out the desk chair, a loud screech making his classmates turn their heads. he muttered out a small sorry his cheeks burning bright red as he set his notebooks down before awkwardly settling into the seat next to you.

"hi hyuckie."

he swallowed hard, slowly turning his head to face you.

"hi- hey kitty."

he raised his hand in an awkward wave, quickly putting it away as he realized how uncool he must look, idiot.

you looked so fucking pretty, like unbelievably pretty. your hair was styled in soft waves, a cute bow pulling the loose strands away from your face. your cheeks were dusted with a soft pink blush, your lips plump and glossy. you wore your usual outfit, a matching yoga set, this one was a light grey, your curves accentuated from every angle. did you do yoga? or maybe pilates? you had to do something, your body was just so toned, so plump, so-

"earth to donghyuck?"

you waved your hand in his face, a cheeky smile spreading on your lips,

"hi there baby, kinda zoned out on me for a sec. i was asking about your notes, i can't see too well from back here-"

you pointed towards the board at the front of the lecture hall,

"the professor's handwriting is kind of small."

he nodded quickly, passing you his notebook. he muttered out a small maybe if you just sat closer to the front. he couldn't help himself, student's only struggled in school because they didn't try enough. he just cared because you were his kitty, he just wanted you to succeed of course.

"what was that hyuck?"

you lifted your head towards him a confused look on your face,

"i said um- that-"

the rest of his sentence was mumbled, his voice low and his words jumbled together. you reached for his chin, turning his head to face you,

"say that again?"

your touch was hot against his skin, goosebumps rising along his body. the room suddenly felt small, his chest tightening at the sight of you so close,

"i said- that- i said that- that maybe if you sat closer to the front then maybe you wouldn't struggle so much."

you clicked your tongue at him, a small smirk on your lips,

"nerd boy has a smart mouth on him, how fitting."

his cheeks were bright pink now, his eyes wide and sparkly,

"no- i- i just- i meant like- it just-"

you giggled at him, pushing his glasses a little bit further up the bridge of his nose. your free hand joined your other against his face, now holding his jaw softly,

"don't you think sitting in the back is so much more fun though? i could kiss you right now and no one would notice."

his eyes darted towards the rest of the lecture hall, your classmates typing away on their computers or distracted by their phones. only a weak mhm was all donghyuck could muster out.

"you like the idea of that don't you dirty boy?"

you looked down towards his jeans, his hardening length pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. your eyes trailed up his body before meeting his again. he licked his lips tentatively, brain foggy with lust.

"can you kiss me. please. just one kiss."

a soft whine escaped his lips as you brushed them gently with your finger. he parted his lips slightly, eyes fluttering shut as you slipped your thumb past the plump muscle.

he moaned as you pressed on his tongue, a little chuckle leaving your lips at the sound,

"shhh hyuck, we're in class, remember?"

he nodded quickly, lips wrapping around your finger to muffle his moans. you brought your other hand down to grab his, bringing it to touch in between your thighs. his eyes got impossibly wider, your core hot against his fingers.

"feel that hyuckie?"

that was enough to set donghyuck off. his mouth falling open into a silent moan, your finger slipping out of his lips. you watched as he pulled his hand away from yours, instead deciding to place them on your thighs gripping tightly. he hunched forward, glasses falling off of his face and onto your lap.

you picked up his glasses, waiting for him to finish... literally. he got back up, quickly releasing the death grip he had on your thighs. his hands scrambled to cover the wet patch that had formed on his jeans. his cheeks were flushed, sweat building on his hairline,

"i- i have to use the bathroom."

he stumbled to get out of his seat, hands still firmly covering his crotch.

"hyuckie wait- look-"

he stopped his fumbling, breath shaky as you got out of your seat to place his glasses on his face. you gently wiped the lenses with your sleeve, leaning back to get a good look at him,

"there we go, perfect. now go ahead go clean yourself up baby."

you gave his chest a light pat before he was scurrying out of the lecture hall.

⋆₊˚⊹.𖥔 zoom, click, panic ! -> 11. the king of dancehall

previous -> masterlist -> next

notes : sungchan's tryna flip it like a flipagram if yk what i mean haha. idk if dancehall is something everyone knows... but you can google it the musics rlly good. are we fw the nut in the pants or is it too soon... i mean technically she hasn't even kissed him yet so... also i'm brainstorming for the next smau (i need to have idea before they shut down tiktok i'm gonna lose my brainrot)

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal , @hizhu , @axo-l0tl , @strawberrysavi , @hyucktion , @4yunogf , @jakesbubu , @gacktsa , @iheartjayke , @annoyednblax , @luvvhaechan , @dudekiss3r , @nanaxwi , @yesohhsehun , @soobinbunnie5 , @hyucksunset , @peterm4rker , @byeonwooseokabs , @kodasity , @hyuckmoon , @catdonut657 , @lionzyon , @luvandletter , @defzcl , @nneteyamss , @222brainrot , @1lovejinki , @zzurao , @catpjimin , @multifandomania , @docilismo , @cyjzzl , @livingdoll-hara , @this-is-lowkey-a-hyuck-fanpage , @ohwowzersthatscool , @babyjenono , @wonswondrland , @jenoleeaesthetic , @bananinhazz , @hyuckna25 , @doejaejung , @angeliqueiguess , @mymartiniblue , @aerivrs , @heyitsbreeeeee , @choizzn , @jae-n0 , @hyuckshinee , @whothefvckami , @snoopyjimin

[504py]

A day in a life with Ivan. [ONESHOT]

Warnings below the cut 。。。

⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.

hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!

thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏

also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.

MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.

Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.

The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.

It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.

Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.

You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.

Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.

Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.

"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.

"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."

The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.

The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.

As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.

He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.

You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.

"Is it bad?"

"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

And that was that.

You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.

Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.

Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.

"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"

"Yeah. I like this one."

"A little somber, isn't it?"

"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."

Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.

"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.

He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."

"What will you be wearing?"

"What I usually do."

You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."

"What about you?" He asks.

"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."

Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.

"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.

"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."

"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."

He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."

"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."

A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.

"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.

You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.

"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.

All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.

"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?

"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.

"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"

Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.

His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.

"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"

"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.

It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.

Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.

Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.

"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"

He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.

"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.

With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.

Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.

"Only for a few minutes."

You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?

That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.

You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.

Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.

And that's when you hear it.

Soft footsteps.

You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.

Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.

The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.

Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.

"I-I'm sorry. Please."

And he smiles.

Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.

You don't understand why he's giggling right now.

He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.

"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.

As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.

Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.

"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.

"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.

"What did you do?"

"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."

Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.

"It will be okay. I love you."

You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.

"I love– I love you too."

He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.

"This does not mean I forgive you, though."

Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.

He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"

You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."

"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.

Disgust registers for only a second.

Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.

After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.

"You will not bite me this time?"

Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.

Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.

Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.

Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.

Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.

While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.

Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.

Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.

Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.

The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–

Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.

He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?

Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.

And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.

"Bed– B-Bedroom."

A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.

You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.

Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.

The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.

That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...

Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.

Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[distantdarlings]

RETURN THE FAVOR // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 3.2K WORDS

Enzo Berkshire x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* When an altercation between Enzo and you gets you both thrown in detention, Enzo decides to take a bit of anger out on you.

+ WARNINGS - (Y'all, this is filthy) SMUT! PIV (no protection), mean dom!Enzo, Top!Enzo, Bottom!Reader, very brief Sub!Enzo, fingering (f!receiving), spanking, bondage, use of tie as gag, mentions of a slap in the face (x2), Reader is struggling (but still consensual), kinda bratty!Reader, public sex, generally rough sex, desk sex, degradation, name-calling, female reader, fem anatomy, language (lmk if I missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Slow Down - Chase Atlantic

- - -

The events of the morning had flown by so quickly, you’d barely even grasped what had happened. You knew there had been some kind of fight that you had been involved in where you were yelling at Theodore Nott for picking on a Hufflepuff. You knew that his little friend group had tried to shout back at you and that your current lover, Enzo Berkshire, had also pushed back against you.

That had pushed you over the edge, and you’d laid a slap across his cheek, lighting it up with red blush. By the time the professors had flown through the door, handing out detention slips, you’d hardly processed a thing that had happened.

There was a fight. You’d slapped Enzo Berkshire across the face. You were currently in detention for the rest of the day. Enzo Berkshire was sitting directly across from you. Those facts were clear.

The desks in the extra classroom you sat in were arranged in a debate circle, where the two of you were angled in front of each other. A pink handprint glowed brightly on his cheek, accentuating his chiseled cheekbone even more than before. His eyes were cut so angrily he might’ve evaporated you on the spot.

“If you have something to say, Enzo…,” you started, crossing your arms and staring right back at him. “Then you’d better spit it out now because I’m getting really tired of you staring at me like that. Hasn't anyone ever taught you that that was rude?”

He scoffed, an evil smirk cracking across his lips. “You’d better watch it. There’s no professor here.”

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “Whatever will I do? Seriously, Enzo, what the hell do you think you’re going to do to me? I could best you in a duel any day.”

“McGonagall took our wands. What do you think you’re going to do?” he challenged, leaning forward onto the wooden desk.

“Maybe if you’d pay better attention in class, you’d be a bit better at wandless magic by now.” You cocked your head and shot him a teasing smile. 

He could talk a big game, but you’d shut him up perfectly well when you’d slapped him earlier. If he wanted to continue to insult you, you had no qualms with hitting him again. Just as he said, there was no professor in the room with you. You could easily get away with a second assault. 

Suddenly, he stood and crossed to the front of his desk. He leaned his body against it, crossing one ankle in front of the other, and setting back comfortably. His eyes watched your every move. A single strand of hair slipped loose from his expertly styled hair, tracing the line of his perfectly crooked nose. 

“What’s with the attitude today, huh? Have I not fucked you enough this week?” he asked, faking a pout with his reddened lips. He tilted his head to the side mockingly. You scoffed.

“Enzo, don’t be stupid. This has nothing to do with that. I told you in the middle of the argument that I was going to slap you if you didn’t get out of my face. And what did you do?”

“I didn’t back down from you, little girl.”

“And you got hit for it, dumbass.” You crossed your arms and leaned against the desk. While Enzo was the best body you’d had in a long, long while, you weren’t going to let his immaculate dick get in the way of your self-esteem. The Slytherin boys had a bit of a reputation for using girls, getting tired of them, then ditching them and leaving them with half of the confidence they had to begin with.

Enzo had an incredibly sculpted body, almost specifically designed for the rough sport of Quidditch he seemed to excel at. From the first time you saw him zipping through the sky—taut body stretching to catch the Quaffle and send it flying into the goalpost with the force of someone twice his size—you knew you had to have him. And that night, after the Slytherins had won and the after party had concluded, you had laid him down and rode him so ferociously, you’d locked him in from that moment on. As much as he loved to deny it, he needed you badly. 

You smirked.

He slowly waltzed across the classroom. His shoes clicked against the polished floors, echoing slightly off of the empty stone walls. Your eyes trained slowly upwards as he drew closer and closer before he stopped just before your desk. His intention was to hover over you and to make you feel small, but the seething stare you kept imprinted on his bright eyes ensured that you were in charge, not him. 

“Maybe it’s about time you had a bit of punishment,” he suggested. He placed the tips of his fingers on the edge of the desk, gently gliding them along the dented wood. A single fingernail absentmindedly traced some name carved messily into the desk. 

“Punishment?” you laughed. “If anything, it’s you who needs it. Maybe one hit wasn’t enough for you. I seem to recall the first night we fucked, you seemed to like it quite a bit when I’d hit you across the face, just like this morning. Tell me, baby, did you get hard when I did it earlier in front of all of your friends?” 

His fist came down hard on the table. You stood abruptly, backing away from his heaving body. The smirk refused to leave your lips. You pulled away slightly, leaning against one of the desks farther behind the one you previously occupied. You’d never seen him this mad before.

“Oh,” you pouted. “Did I hit a soft spot? God, imagine what your friends think. They know I’ve been fucking with you for the last few months, so what do they think, knowing I have complete control of you?”

“Yeah, right,” he snorted, inching closer to you, weaving in and out of desks and chairs.

“Enzo, baby, let’s be honest,” you smiled. “You’re like a dog on a leash. When I whistle, you come. In both the physical and transporting sense.” You continued to walk backwards, fingers caressing along desks as you passed by them. 

“Oh, you think this is a game? You think you’re in control?” he asked. You nodded sweetly. Anyone could see that you were, even those on the outside looking in.

“Aren’t I?” you asked. “You’re the one chasing after me here.” At your words, he stopped in his tracks and laughed meanly. He watched you closely as he slowly sat himself down in a wooden chair. The light creaking beneath his weight interrupted the echoing of his breathing. 

“Come here, baby,” he said gently, patting his lap with one heavy hand.

“Hmm, no. Try again.” You crossed your arms obstinately. He glanced around absentmindedly for a few moments as if thinking about something before he seemed to land on his solution. A small smile briefly flashed across his lips before disappearing again. Then, his eyebrows knitted together pitifully, as if he was on the verge of crying.

He slid down out of the chair, letting his knees hit the raw ground with a soft thud. His hands came forward, finding their position on the dusty floorboards, fingers streaking in the dirt. On all fours, he slowly began to crawl towards you. A few inches every second, a few breaths between his swollen lips, a few wobbles of his jaw, then he was paused before you with his lips hovering against your bare legs. 

You watched closely as he dragged his bottom lip from your knee up to the hem of your skirt before pulling away. A smile found its way on to your face at his behavior. At this point, all he needed to do was beg for forgiveness and offer his body up for the single use of your personal pleasure. Merlin, that would be the fucking day. 

“What do you say, baby?” you whispered, hand coming down to grab a hold of his jaw. You tilted his face up higher to look at you more directly. 

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for shouting at you earlier,” he whispered. Your thumb scraped across his mouth. At the sensation, a pink tongue darted between them and caressed gently over your skin. You smiled once more. You could get very used to seeing him on his knees like this. 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think I can fully forgive you until you seek a bit more penance. In a physical form.” 

At that, you pushed yourself fully onto the desk behind you, legs falling slowly open. You revealed yourself to him. Between your decision to not wear tights today and the fact that your panties were hardly solid fabric as is, you figured it wouldn’t be much of a struggle to get him against you. His eyes glanced down beneath your skirt before flicking back up to you. He swallowed thickly, his throat tracking the shaky movement the whole way down. 

“What can I do for you?” he whispered. 

“Anything you want—just pleasure me and make me believe that you’re sorry.” 

Not a moment passed before he was jumping up from his position on the floor and crossing the remaining space between you two. You yelped as his hands trapped themselves behind your knees and tugged you toward the edge of the desk you sat atop. Before you had a chance to react to his annoying insubordination, he flipped your hips and pressed your chest roughly into the old wood. You shrieked at the assault, feeling a breeze inching its way up your back. His hands had yours tightly trapped behind your back. 

“Enzo! Let me go right fucking now!” you screamed. 

“Nuh uh, shush now,” he tutted. “You told me to pleasure you in any way that I wanted. I’ve decided what I want.” His words were menacing. A chill spread down your spine. 

With both of your wrists collected in his left hand, he freed his right to slip a finger behind his tie and loosen it. He pulled it from around his neck and rapidly fastened it around your wrists, binding them tightly against your back. You yelped at the tension burning against your shoulders.

“Fuck, Enzo! That’s too tight. Loosen it now or I swear—!” you started. His hands were then around your neck, interrupting your empty threats and loosening your tie, as well. You thrashed against his body but his hips pressed against your ass kept you locked against the desk.

“I swear to Merlin, you'd better let me up or I’ll scream.”

“Well, we can’t have any of that.” Suddenly, your tie appeared in front of your eyes in a flash. It slipped between your teeth and pulled tight against the edges of your mouth. He fastened the uniform fabric around the back of your head, careful to avoid tying your hair into it. You grunted rebelliously against the gag, trying to kick at him with your legs. 

“Besides, if I’m going to make you feel as good as I plan to, this’ll come in handy for how loud you’re about to scream.” His voice was a gravelly whisper against your ear, lips brushing against the shell. 

Eventually, you stopped struggling, and, at that point, he chuckled in your ear and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

He leaned up from where he’d been sprawled against your back and slowly pushed your skirt over your hips, revealing your ass to the cold air. You moaned against the gag as his thumb slid slowly through your slit, tracing the wetness that had already started to pool from the edge of your core to your entrance. He hissed at the warmth you gave off.

“I don’t know why you fight me so much—if you’d just lie still and let me fuck you, I think you’d be in a much better mood.” 

Then he was pulling your lace panties to the side and sliding a hot finger into you. You gasped, body tensing against the desk, as he spread you apart. It never mattered how many times he did this—you never got used to the stretch every part of his body provided to you. Before you’d even adjusted to the first one, he pushed a second finger in, and then a third. 

By the time he pulled his fingers from you, you were already dripping down the length of your thighs and the sides of his wrist. Behind you, you heard him place his fingers across his tongue and suck your essence from his skin. 

You rolled your jaw against the desk, propping your chin up to catch a glimpse of the door. The thought of a student or—worse—a professor walking in and catching the two of you made your stomach grumble with nausea. But, on the flip side, it also seemed to ramp up the heat in your abdomen. For some reason, the thought made you all the more ready for him to push himself into you.

Which, luckily, you didn’t have to wait long for. Without another breath, he worked his pants down his waist and legs and placed both hands on your ass. His fingers dug into your skin, massaging the muscle soothingly before laying a heavy slap to your right side. You stifled a scream against the desk. Your skin stung as if it’d been placed against fire. His fingers returned to the skin to move the heat around. 

Once he felt as though the pain had been appeased enough, he laid an even harder slap to your left side. This time, a bit of a shriek did break through the silence. You groaned at the pain, kicking your leg up and making sharp contact with his shin.

“Ah! You little shit.” He slammed his hand down on your ass again. Tears pricked at your eyes at the feeling. You couldn’t deny it—the thought only accelerated the wetness between your legs more. Fuck, you hated what he did to you. 

He reached around and pulled your gag from between your lips suddenly. The saliva-soaked fabric hung limply around your neck. “Now,” he growled in your ear. “Say you’re sorry for slapping me.”

“But you—” He shut you up by slamming himself into you down to the hilt. He slapped a hand around your mouth as you screamed out. 

“Say you’re sorry.” He began to pump rapidly into you. Every single thrust hammered into every spot you needed him to. He was relentless with his pace.

“I’m sorry,” you cried out against his hand. Your hands clenched tightly where they were wound against your back, fingernails biting into your palms. 

Finally, he pulled himself off of you and gathered your hips into his hands once more. He fucked you hard and rough, demanding that you feel every inch of him. His hip bones slammed against your ass with cracks that echoed like magic. Your eyes rolled upwards at the pleasure he forced into your body. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Hitting me then pretending like you run this show. I fuck you, not the other way around. At the end of the night, you’re the one screaming into my shoulder; you’re the one pulling me closer with your legs; you’re the one clenching me with this dripping cunt. And who gets you like this every time—fucking soaked and begging for more? Fucking me, you stupid slut. You think you can treat me like that, huh?” He punctuated his question with an especially hard thrust. You whimpered, teeth clenching briefly around the edge of the desk. “You ever act like that in front of my friends again and I’ll fuck this tight cunt right in front of them and the entire fucking school. I’ll tie you up like I have you right now and let every single student and professor watch as I end you.”

You whined aloud at his words. The images he painted in your mind ramped the sensations he was giving you to a million. Every movement he pushed into you urged you closer and closer to that sweet release you were desperate before. 

As you started to tighten around him, he chuckled meanly. His fingers dug into your hips. “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Just like you do every time?”

You said nothing. He grabbed your tied hands and pulled you upwards, forcing your back into his chest. The new angle hit an especially deep spot inside of you. You gasped at the feeling. You were right on the edge of your release.

“Answer me!” he growled.

“Yes! Enzo, please, baby. I’m so fucking close,” you whined aloud. 

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He pushed you back onto the desk and forced himself against you faster and faster until the bubble in your stomach was bursting and raining down across his and your thighs. He groaned as the wet slick painted his skin. 

Once your high began to diminish, he pumped himself into you relentlessly until he was coming hard. He forced every ounce of his spend deep into you until he was finished and caught his breath. Once he was done, he pulled himself out of you.

“I think that ought to teach you, baby.” He pulled his pants back onto his hips and fastened his belt. You could feel his release pulsing out of your core and seeping down your legs. Sweat dripped down your forehead. Your ass was still exposed. 

“Whatever, Enzo. Just untie me,” you said. He paused and walked around to the front of the desk you laid across. You watched his body make every step until he stopped before you. A single hand came down to tilt your chin up towards him, just as you had done to him earlier.

“What was that?” he whispered. His voice was like steel.

“I asked you to untie me.”

“I don’t recall you asking anything. You demanded. Haven’t you learned anything?” he asked, clicking his tongue disappointingly. You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious.

“Okay, I get the point, En. Now, untie me. A professor or student could walk in at any time.”

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” he smirked down at you. You rolled your eyes.

“Merlin. Please!” you sighed. 

“Mm, I think it’s too late for that. Your attitude fucking sucks. I shouldn’t have to ask you to say please. It seems this little session didn’t teach you much of a lesson.” 

He paused for a moment, then smiled decidedly. “Maybe this will, sweetheart.”

“Enzo, what—?” He interrupted you by pulling the gag back over your mouth, retightening it against your mouth and walking back behind you. He smoothed your skirt over the length of your back, ensuring that your ass was exposed, pumped full of his cum. He double-checked that your arms were fastened tightly against your back. You struggled against the desk, cussing his every fucking movement as best you could through the gag. 

He leaned down beside your ear and placed a small kiss to the shell of it. “Let’s learn from our mistakes, baby.”  

Then, with a whoosh, he Disapparated and rendered the room into complete silence. You scoffed in surprise, eyes widening and breath heaving in and out. There was no fucking way he just left you like this. 

The next time you saw Enzo Berkshire, you were going to make sure you returned the fucking favor. Exactly how he had. 

- - -

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[deerlysacred]

🍎 i feel so high school every time i look at you . . . { dean winchester x fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you always felt like you missed out on lots of silly, social & romantic things in your teenage years because you were very shut-down and depressed back then. dean shows you that there's still time to make up for it. }

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff

♫ 𝄢 concept song : so high school - taylor swift

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own supernatural or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

Clink.

. . .

Clink!

The soft clatter of pebbles against your bedroom window barely registered at first. You were curled up under a mountain of blankets, comfortably burrowed in your own little nest, flipping through a book with a cup of tea precariously (?) balanced on your stomach. You told yourself it was probably just the wind. Or a tree branch. Or, you know, the natural creaks and groans of a house that is absolutely not haunted (you hoped so).

Then— another clink.

And another.

You sighed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Okay. Either a ghost just decided to throw hands, or some poor bird tragically lost its sense of direction.

You went out of bed, padding over to the window as you pulled the curtains away. Your eyes widened against the unexpected scene.

Dean Winchester. Standing in your backyard, throwing rocks at your window.

The sight alone was almost too much for your brain to process. He was grinning up at you like some teenage heartthrob straight out of an '80s rom-com, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket while the other —oh great— prepared to lob another pebble.

"Dean?" you whisper-yelled, opening your window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like, sweetheart?" he whisper-yelled right back, looking too proud of himself. "I'm sneakin' my girl out for a date. Proper teenage style. Now c'mon, before your strict old folks catch me."

You just stared at him, struggling to process several things at once. One, he is standing in your yard throwing pebbles at your window like a delinquent in a coming of age TV show. Two, he just called you his girl, which— okay, that probably should've sound normal to you since you're his girlfriend indeed. For a while now, in fact. But your brain still short-circuited a little, getting flustered even after all this time.

"…Dean, I don't have strict old folks."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I dunno, Y/N. Your grandma did glare at me once. Feels like I'm riskin' life and limb here."

You bit back a laugh. "You do realize I could just use the door, right?"

Dean scoffed, his breath getting visible with the fog because of the chilly air of the evening. "Oh, sure, and miss out on the whole forbidden romance, Romeo-and-Juliet, sneakin'-through-the-night scene? Where's your sense of drama, sweetheart? Hm? Where's your passion?" He gestured grandly towards the window and flexed his muscles briefly. "Now, c'mon. Climb out or somethin'. I'll catch ya."

You folded your arms, shaking your head as you chuckled. "You will not catch me!"

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking scandalized. "Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I would absolutely catch you."

"Dean, be honest. Do you want to risk finishing this date night before it even began after you broke your arm because you got too full of yourself?"

He squinted, like he was actually considering the question. "…Okay, fair point. Plan B— the ladder in the garage. We improvise."

You shook your head again, a helpless smile breaking through. You knew why he was doing this. He probably couldn't stop thinking about what you told him last night— how you felt like you missed out on things as a teenager. How you overthink about the past missed opportunities sometimes, okay… Maybe more than sometimes. And here he was now. And because that he was Dean, instead of just saying something sweet or reassuring and get over with it (not like he was very good with words too), he was throwing pebbles at your window like a teenage rebel, giving you the moment you never got to have.

And damn it if that didn't make you fall for him even more.

"Give me a minute." you said, already reaching for your coat.

Dean grinned, all boyish mischief and dimples, retrieving the slightly rusted ladder from the garage, setting it against the house. "That's my girl, come."

You sighed and closed the window before carefully making your way back down. When you were only a couple of steps from the bottom, Dean suddenly spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers.

"Alright, sweetheart— leap of faith. I got you."

You eyed him warily. "Dean…"

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure? Woulda made such a cute movie moment."

You rolled your eyes but decided to humor him. With a deep breath, you let go of the ladder and jumped.

Dean, to his credit, did catch you. Mostly.

He stumbled back a step, arms full of you, before he managed to steady them both, laughing. "See? Told ya I'd—oof—catch you."

You clung to him, half-giggling, half-mortified. "That was not smooth."

"Eh, I give it a solid eight outta ten," Dean said, setting you on your feet. He brushed an imaginary leaf off your shoulder, voice dipping low and playful. "Y'know, if this was some cheesy teen drama, this'd be the part where we kiss real slow, right before your dad comes out with a shotgun."

You snorted, tilting your head. "Too bad my dad's not around to threaten you."

Just as the two of you turned towards the Impala, movement from across the street caught your eye.

Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was your eighty-something-year-old neighbor who sits on his porch every night sipping his coffee, watching the world go by. And right now, he was watching you and Dean with the exact expression of a man who has seen some things in his time but has never seen this.

Dean followed your gaze and gave Mr. Jenkins a slow, respectful nod.

Mr. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Took a sip of coffee. Kept staring.

Dean turned back to you, whispering. "Alright, I think I've been made. Your grandpa's gonna call the cops, isn't he?"

"He's not my grandpa."

"You sure? He's got that 'disapproving man of the house' energy goin' on."

You sighed. "Just get in the car before he starts asking questions."

Dean tugged open the Impala's door with a dramatic flourish, waving you in like he's some kind of old-school gentleman. "After you, milady."

"Dean…?" you said slowly, side-eyeing him.

"Mm?" He looked perfectly innocent. Too innocent.

"You're taking me to a makeout spot?"

Dean smirked. "Technically, I'm takin’ you to a scenic overlook with a great view of the stars." A beat. "But, yeah, also a makeout spot."

You groaned, slumping against the seat. "I hate everything."

"Nahhh, you love it."

…You kind of did love it. But he didn't need to know that.

When he finally pulled up to the clearing, the view was stunning. An open sky stretching for miles, stars shining bright against the darkness, the town lights twinkling far below. Dean shut off the engine and hopped out, you hugged your coat and went out to clim up on the hood of Baby to sit. When Dean came back, he was holding— a picnic basket?

Your brows shot up. "Oh my God, you packed snacks?"

Dean looked vaguely offended. "Sweetheart, I always pack snacks."

You laughed as he set the basket down on the hood of the Impala and sat next to you. He pulled out a few chocolate bars, a bag of chips, and—of course—a pack of beer.

"Very nutritious." you remarked.

Dean popped the cap off a bottle. "Hey, you want gourmet, sweetheart, you're in the wrong car."

You rolled your eyes but took a chocolate bar, unwrapping it as you leaned back against the windshield, eyes drifting to the sky. It really was beautiful up here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then, the soft strumming of a guitar filters through the Impala's speakers. An old, slow love song, the kind that makes your chest ache in that bittersweet way.

You glanced at Dean, who was busy nursing his beer like this was no big deal. Like he didn't just put on a song as if this was a romance movie. Your stomach flipped, biting your bottom lip, you spoke.

"Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Just thought, y'know… if you ever wanted that teenage movie moment… well. This ain't a prom, but…" He gestured around you. "Got the view. Got the music. Got the devastatingly handsome date."

You giggled, leaning into his side. "You are pretty devastating."

Dean grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sat there, listening to the song and cuddling.

After a moment of silence, he glanced down at you as he was caressing your shoulder gently. "So, what kinda stuff do you think you missed out on?"

"I don't know. Just… normal teenage things, I guess. Like— stupid, fun stuff. Sneaking out just to go nowhere. Sleepovers. Gossiping about crushes. A first kiss that wasn't tainted by some deep emotional crisis."

Dean winced playfully. "Oof. That one hit close to home."

You smirked. "Right?"

Dean leaned back on his palms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. I missed out on a bunch of crap, too. No high school parties. No prom. No dumb summer jobs or college road trips. Just—" he huffed a dry laugh. "—training, hunting, and trying to keep Sammy safe."

You frowned, reaching for his hand. "That's not fair. You deserved those things, Dean."

He shrugged, squeezing your fingers. "Yeah, well… wasn't in the cards for me."

You looked down at your joined hands, your thumb tracing over his knuckles. "Sometimes I think about it. What kind of person I would've been if things had been different. If I'd been happy back then."

"You ever wish you could do it over?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "No if it meant I wouldn't end up here. With you."

Dean's lips parted slightly, like you just knocked the wind out of him. Then, after a second, he cleared his throat and smirked. "Damn. You keep talkin' like that, and I'm gonna have to start writing poetry."

"Oh, please. I'd love to hear your poetry."

Dean straightened, putting on a dramatic voice. "Roses are red, Impala is black. Every time you kiss me, I forget how to act."

You laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That was beautiful. You should publish that."

Dean grinned. "Oh, totally. I heard bad poetry is in high demand."

"Then congrats, baby, you're about to be a bestseller."

You sat like that for a while, the laughter fading into something softer, warmer. Then, as the song playing on the radio faded into another slow melody, Dean suddenly sat up.

"Alright, that's it." He turned to you with a grin. "We're fixin' this."

You blinked. "Uh… Fixing what?"

He hopped off the hood, holding out a hand to you. "We missed out on stupid teenage things, right? So let's make up for it. Starting with a slow prom dance under the stars."

You huffed a small laugh but didn't resist when he took your hand, helping you down. The second you were standing, Dean turned, grabbed a soft flannel blanket from the basket, and carefully draped it over your shoulders.

"Wouldn't want my girl gettin' cold." he murmured, making sure it wrapped snugly around you. Then, with a boyish smirk, he added: "Also, this way you can't run when I step on your toes."

You giggled. "Wow. Confidence through the roof, Winchester."

Dean just grinned and pulled you closer, swaying you two gently to the quiet music playing from the Impala's radio.

At first, it was ridiculous. He exaggerated his steps like some old-school ballroom instructor, guiding you dramatically across the dirt like you were at some grand gala instead of parked on an empty hill. But you played along, batting your lashes and letting out an over-the-top sigh, as if you'd just been swept into the most magical moment of your life.

Then, somewhere along the way, the teasing melted into something softer.

Your movements slowed, your bodies falling into an easy rhythm. Your arms looped around Dean's neck, your fingers absentmindedly curling into his hair. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothing. The blanket cocooned you in warmth, shielding you from the cold night air.

For a while, you just swayed. No words, no hurry. Just you two, the hum of the radio, the distant chirp of crickets, and the glow of the stars above.

Then Dean dipped his head, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His voice was quieter now, softer. "Y'know… I think I like our version of prom better."

You smiled up at him. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." His voice was lazy. "No bad music. No ugly corsages. And best of all…" His lips quirked up. "I get to kiss the prettiest girl here."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. This one wasn't playful or teasing— it was deep, unhurried, and sure. Reassuring. Reassuring in a way that told you you didn't miss out on anything, everything little step in life brought you here. To him. And you knew, that this was more meaningful and real than any ghost of a never-happened memory.

[mmywanda]

Dandelion — W.M

chapter one of Forbidden Pleasure

—

Pairing: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family's business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring. men & minors dni!

Warnings: None.. yet ;)

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: My first series! I promise it’s going to get more exciting soon, this was just setting things up.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

—

You'd never been into business. Despite your family being famous for their own very successful company, Nexus. No, you preferred working in that little library, where it was quiet, and the most stressful it got was when someone returned their books too late. Why would you want to be involved in a business full of money hungry people who think of nothing but financial success?

So that was precisely what you told your father when he called you up one Saturday morning, trying to persuade you into following in the footsteps of the majority of your family. And what didn't help your case was the fact you'd be laid off from your job, as there wasn't enough funding in the library to keep all four employees.

"I don't want to be a part of it, dad, I've told you this so many times." You spoke between chews, the crunch of your slightly burnt toast echoing through the call.

"You're twenty two, (Y/N), it's time you step up and join us. You could be valuable to the team."

You rolled your eyes, "And what value would that be?" Both of you knew that you'd passed through college with barely average results, and was lucky to have found a decently paying job that didn't require better grades.

"You're good with people, we need that."

Glancing over at the small stack of bills across you on the kitchen table, you sighed. "I don't want it to change me." What if you turned into an emotionless robot? And had to work behind a desk everyday? And that desk may be on the twenty fourth level of a glass tower building?

"You won't change, I know you."

Doubt swirled around in your mind, eyes scanning the small apartment you lived in. You would have to find a job soon, though it would be difficult given your low qualifications and lack of experience. Here you were, being offered a job that would most likely be well paying.

"Fine. I'll do it."

—

The first matter of business was shopping. Your wardrobe consisted of cardigans, faded jeans, a skirt you refused to ever wear again and a few shirts that looked very outdated compared to the modern city you lived in.

Walking into a clothing store that wasn't your typical go-to was scary. You'd chosen a different one so you could find more professional outfits— because you'd probably be kicked out of the office if you were to walk in wearing your usual attire.

"May I offer you some assistance?" A woman appeared in front of you almost two seconds after you'd stepped through the automatic doors. Her eyes scanned you, as it was obvious this was your first time in that store.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, it's okay thank you. I'm just browsing." When she left with a nod, you walked to the pants section, looking at the wide selection of styles, material and colours. You didn't even know where to begin. Eventually you decided that darker shades like grey, black or navy would be appropriate. Picking a few out, you folded them over your arm, ready for the dressing room later.

Next was shirts, that just like the pants, had a very large selection, perhaps even more. A sigh left your lips.

Twenty minutes later you'd accumulated clothing items and two pairs of shoes. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the dressing rooms, and once inside a cubicle, you dropped the pile onto the stool. Another sigh left your lips. Is this what business people went through every year? Well, probably every month, based on what you knew of business people. Granted, your only knowledge of business style was from The Office, and it wasn't like that show was renowned for its fashion sense.

Trying on a few outfits, matching different things, you decided on what you would purchase. Making your way to the cashiers, you avoided the gaze of the store assistant.

"That will be three hundred and eleven dollars, fifty cents." The cashier's bright smile almost smoothed over your shock, but not quite. Three hundred and eleven dollars?!

As much as you wanted to apologise and leave to find a store that had cheaper prices, you wouldn't be able to handle the judgemental stare of that woman. So, you got your card out and pressed it against the card reader. When it let out a double beep, indicating it hadn't been approved, you tried again, to which the cashier said, "You have to put your card in. The contactless limit is two hundred."

Your face flushed. If it wasn't obvious that you hadn't spent this much money before, it was now.

That evening, you laid on your couch, staring at the cracks in your ceiling, instant ramen in a bowl, cooling down from its boiling temperature. You thought about what would happen tomorrow, your first day in the office. Well, you knew you wouldn't have a desk job exactly, you'd be more like an assistant to any of the managers or executives— whatever that meant.

Trying to shake your mind of all the worries, you ate your ramen, despite it burning your tongue. At least it was a distraction from the overthinking anyway.

—

You woke up with a start, phone alarm blaring. Your first instinct was to sit up, but an ache in your neck forced you to pause. It seemed you'd fallen asleep on the couch, head having been in an awkward position all night. You thanked the you from yesterday who set the alarm in preparation and had placed the phone beside you.

It didn't take long to put your chosen outfit on, but what did take long was pleasing the perfectionist in you. You stood in front of the mirror for a while, adjusting your hair this way and that, fiddling with the simple silver necklace you were wearing.

"It's no big deal, (Y/N), you're not going to meet anyone important on your first day."

That's what you kept telling yourself during your journey to the office building. It took a train and a four minute walk until you reached your destination. Walking into the lobby, you were struck by how sharp, clean and unnecessarily big it was. Pale marble flooring, bright white walls, even brighter ceiling lights despite it being a sunny day outside. And the very large 'NEXUS' logo on the far wall. Your shoes squeaked against the marble, and you wondered what sort of material the soles were made out of. Perhaps the marble was made to mock people with shoes worth less than a thousand dollars.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist asked as you approached him. You smiled, masking your nerves.

"I'm (Y/N), I'm meant to be starting my job today."

He nodded quickly, suddenly sitting up straighter, you assumed because he believed he would get in trouble if he wasn't the most professional he could be in front of his boss's daughter. You then noticed his name badge that read 'Evan'.

Evan picked up the reception phone, tapping a few numbers before speaking, telling someone that you had arrived. The conversation was short.

"Take the elevator to the ninth floor, first door on the right." He pointed you in the right direction. You gave him your thanks and then found yourself inside the small metal box also known as an elevator. You hated them, though you guessed it would have to become part of your routine now.

Once arriving on the ninth floor, you examined the decor— plain walls with an occasional framed art piece (the kind that looked like a toddler had painted that would sell for millions).

Hearing distant voices coming from various closed doors, you decided dallying wouldn't make the start of shift any easier. You found the first door on the right, knocking lightly until you heard a familiar voice call out— "Come in." So you did.

The office was spacious, a desk in the middle, and seating behind it was your father. He gave you a warm smile, standing up with an outstretched hand. You mentally sighed at his usual strange way of greeting family members. You shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him.

"It's good to see you here, when was the last time you visited?" He prompted, clicking his silver pen against the table.

"A few years ago, the Christmas party."

You remembered it begrudgingly. The night you fell onto a table that happened to be seating several ice filled buckets for the champagne. Let's just say it was an extremely humiliating memory that always made you shiver. The chill of the ice had never quite escaped you.

Your father chuckled, nodding as he recalled the same night. "Ah, yes. How could I forget." You rolled your eyes, refusing to smile until he changed the subject. "Anyway, let's talk business."

He pulled out a new planner journal, handing it to you. Flicking through it, you noticed a lot of dates neatly jotted in. You gave him a questioning look.

"My assistant kindly added important dates and meetings."

Your eyes widened slightly, "I'm going to join meetings?" That was something you hadn't expected.

"As a note taker, for now." His expression showed how keen he was for you to progress in your role and reach a high position in the company on your own. He wasn't going to get you a higher job just because you were his kid.

Scanning the dates written down for the current week, you saw there was a meeting scheduled for today. Anxiety immediately bubbled inside you at the thought of being in such a professional setting with equally professional people, as an inexperienced ex-librarian.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). It's not a huge deal." He hesitated, before correcting himself. "Okay, it is a big deal."

You groaned, leaning back in the chair that you had to admit was very uncomfortable. "What is it about? Stock shares or something?" It was very obvious that you pulled the term out of your very limited knowledge on business that lived in the back of your brain, because your father's eyebrows creased in amusement.

"It's our annual meeting with Maximoff Industries. And let's just say our companies have difficulty clicking."

The name 'Maximoff Industries' was familiar. You knew that they created things in the technology area, and as it so happened, Nexus did too, so it was no wonder they didn't 'click'.

"How do they normally go?" You had to gauge how terrible the experience would be for you. Scenarios ran through your mind, the most rational being; raised tones, interrupted sentences, perhaps even a few cold glares (gasp).

"We have a small partnership in a few products, so the disagreements normally stem from financial shares, and what name is listed first under the annual report. It normally ends in a handshake though." He attempted a smile, but it was clear that he had a very strong distaste for Maximoff Industries. "It doesn't help that their CEO, Wanda Maximoff is a.. difficult person to get along with in terms of business."

"Why?" You asked, wanting to know what to expect in the meeting, even if you were going to be sitting in the corner.

Your father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's.." He thought for a long hard moment. "She has this look, like she knows more than you, like she's superior. And she very obviously craves control over every situation without explicitly expressing it. It's infuriating, but hard to explain."

It didn't seem like much to go on; having a certain expression and craving control. Wasn't that a description of half of the earth's population?

Your father checked his watch, "It's going to start in twenty minutes." You internally panicked, because you hadn't expected things to start so soon. He smiled kindly, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"It's okay, (Y/N), you're not going to be talking." That didn't exactly reassure you, because it meant you would have to maintain a calm act in case anyone looked your way.

"Alright, let's do this." Faking positivity was the first step, right?

—

The meeting room was empty when you and other representatives from Nexus walked in, including your father. They all took their seats, presumably their allocated ones. There was a chair set aside from the very long table, which you guessed was for you. Sliding it backwards a bit, you sat, spending a very awkward minute trying to decide how to position your legs. Should you cross them or not? Before you could come to a decision, you heard people entering the room.

You looked up, counting five very professional looking businesspeople. Thinking that was all, you opened your notebook, until you sensed one last presence. Glancing across the room, a woman entered.

She was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and heels. Hair brunette with lighter streaks, eyes a deep shade of green. But the overriding feature of this woman was her aura. Everyone in the room fell silent, most of the Nexus members seemed to have a polite but forced smile.

"Ms Maximoff, it's good to see you." Your father announced, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate for the woman to sit at the opposite end of the table— although she'd already done so.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Julian." Wanda Maximoff replied, her tone smooth, with an underlying accent you hadn't heard before. It was very alluring all the same. You noticed she'd addressed your father by his first name.

"How have you been? I heard y—" Your father began, until he was cut off.

"Let's just get to business, shall we?" Wanda's hands rested on top of the table, revealing her many intricate and no doubt expensive silver rings.

"Oh, yes." Julian cleared his throat, gesturing to his coworker, a manager to start the presentation. You tried your best to quickly note down the points the manager was making, including comments from the other company.

But you felt your attention slipping, because from your angle, Wanda Maximoff was just to the left of the presentation screen. You were inexplicably drawn to her, the way she held herself, and not to mention her immense beauty.

You were suddenly startled when the face you were staring at turned, green eyes locking with yours. All oxygen left your lungs, not from panic of being caught staring during a professional meeting, but because Wanda Maximoff was piercing. Though her head tilted back to the presentation. Finally you were able to breathe, fingers gripping the notebook edges.

"So what's the point of decreasing the amount of products manufactured if it's in high demand?" Wanda questioned, leaning back in her seat slightly, directing the question towards your father instead of the manager.

He paused, thinking through his answer before replying. "Retailers are going to be bidding higher prices in order to stock it."

Wanda Maximoff's eyebrows quirked, a slight upturn of her lips now revealing to you what your father had described earlier; The Look. It indeed felt like she was in control, as if she was negotiating a deal with a child.

"Why don't we ask someone else's opinion?" Wanda's eyes snapped to you. Horror rushed through you as everyone followed Wanda's directed stare. All eyes were on you.

You felt your face heat up, having absolutely no idea what to say or do other than look towards your father helplessly. He nodded his head, as if urging me to speak so they could move on quickly.

"Uh—" Words were failing you. Wanda's expression shifted from expectancy to amusement. She was enjoying your embarrassment, it seemed. "I think it could work.. people tend to want to buy things that are exclusive." You didn't have anything to base that opinion on, but you hoped it sounded more certain than it did in your head.

Wanda's stare remained on you for a few agonising seconds before nodding once, accepting your answer. "Let's take ten, my team need to discuss this." Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. The Nexus members waited for the others to leave the room, but they didn't. Your father let out a very quiet but infuriated sigh at Wanda's blank though slightly smug expression . He stood, muttering to everyone to leave with him, including you. You'd never exited a room so quickly.

Once you were a few metres down the corridor, you exhaled, leaning against the wall, the conversation between your company distant to your ears. You were busy calming down from the humiliation. You hadn't felt this way since falling into a table with ice buckets in this very building.

Why had Wanda singled you out? Surely she knew how uncomfortable that would be for someone who was clearly new.

You needed water. Luckily you knew of the staff lounge that had a supply of refreshments.

The 'lounge' was thankfully empty, consisting of several pristine couches and counter with a kettle and an array of coffees and teas. You headed towards the water cooler. Grabbing a small paper cup, you flicked on the switch for the water to start filling the cup slowly. It was when it reached the halfway mark that you were startled by a voice.

"It's an interesting opinion that you have."

You spun around, facing Wanda Maximoff. It was hard to breathe again.

"Do you know a lot about consumer behaviour?" She asked, emerald eyes fixed on yours. The question stunned you for a moment, not entirely understanding. But you'd done enough reading to be able to guess what her words meant.

"Not really, I just notice what people around me seem to buy." Good, you're doing good— you told yourself.

"You don't do the buying?" She asked, head slightly tilted to the side.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, no. I'm the type to keep something until it's completely incapable of doing its job." For example; your toaster.

Wanda's lips twitched into a smile that almost felt like a smirk. "That's an unfortunate attitude to have when you're working in this industry." You swallowed, throat feeling very dry as you still hadn't had that water yet. Wanda seemed to finally notice the cup in your hand.

"Drink."

The simple word felt like a command, and you found yourself raising your cup without hesitation and taking a gulp of water. It felt like a relief to your dry throat. The woman's smile was now definitely a smirk, though what she was smirking at, you didn't know.

"I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start?" The question was a simple one, but the way Wanda delivered it made it seem a lot more important, like she actually interested.

You were just glad it was an easy one to answer. "Today, actually."

She nodded slowly, "You're Julian's daughter?"

"Yeah, he's wanted me here for a while, and I needed a job." You had to tell yourself to just chill out, because you were starting to overthink your answers, despite there being no need to.

Wanda reached a hand out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, inadvertently directing your attention to her hands. The silver rings shaped her fingers perfectly, the dark red varnish on her nails standing out as they brushed against her hair. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

"Those plants look half dead."

Your eyebrows raised at her very random statement. Since when did plants become a part of the conversation? You went along with it, noticing the few potted plants and vases with flowers that did look very wilted.

"Do you know the name of that one?" Wanda pointed to a specific plant, green leaves and yellow flowers. You knew nothing about plants.

"Tulip?" It was more of a question than an answer. Wanda let out a chuckle at your painfully wrong answer. She shook her head in amusement.

"Dandelion." She stated, suddenly studying you with some type of curiosity and intrigue. "You remind me of a dandelion."

Your expression was quizzical, wondering why a yellow flower could be associated to you in any kind of way. "Why?"

Wanda smiled mysteriously, carefully leaving the question unanswered as she checked her watch. You could tell by the watch strap alone that it was probably worth more than your student debt. "The break is over." And with that, she began walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. You were stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it. Realising that the cup was still in your hand, you threw it away, walking as quickly as you could back to the meeting room without embarrassing yourself.

Everyone was in the room by the time you'd survived the walk back. You kept your eyes down and sat in your corner (of shame). The conversations started again, and you tried your best, yet again, to make notes. It was a bit easier to concentrate as Wanda hadn't done any talking yet.

It was boring, really, listening to your father and Maximoff Industries' representatives disagree on very simple things like the font for whatever the damn products they wanted to sell.

Finally, Wanda spoke up after listening to the conversation she appeared to have found just as boring as you had. "Let's do it. Less products for higher sales, as ridiculous as it sounds. Though, something would have to be put in place.”

You glanced up from your notebook, pen hovering above the page. Even Wanda’s own coworkers seemed confused.

“I will have regular meetings with a representative from Nexus, just so I can keep up to date with your side of this new decision.”

You could practically see the cogs in your father’s brain whirring, as he probably didn’t know now if this new idea would be a mistake. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll look at my schedu—“

“It will be (Y/N).” Wanda stated clearly. Once again, you found all attention on you. You were just as bewildered as the other surprised faces.

“Me?” You uttered, cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda Maximoff wanting to meet you again.

A smile twitched on your lips as she studied you from across the room. You felt the presences around you fade away when your eyes locked with green ones. She spoke in a slow but deliberate way, “You will accept, won’t you?”

Without thinking twice, you simply replied, “Yes.”

—

[kozachenko]

Finally decided to play around with my old lineless style again! Also figured out a way to draw Reimu that I actually really like!

Artist's Notes;

I've mentioned in a few earlier posts that I've been wanting to draw in my lineless style again for a while as a way to test what I've learnt from my previous style in regards to lighting. I did the face first and then for a while was thinking about doing a full body illustration of Reimu just to draw her outfit again. I'll talk about the face first since that's the first drawing I did in this batch.

For the longest time I really couldn't find a way to translate Reimu's face into my style. I was able to make her clothes work out well, just not really her face. I did like elements of how I drew her face a few other times, namely the tiny eyebrows and her pupils, but they didn't really feel like Reimu to me, or at least how I imagined her in my head. I then realized that it was less of a problem with the entire face and moreso the eyes, and it took me quite a bit of trial and error to make something that I was happy with. Also, as much as I thought the tiny eyebrows were cute, it didn't really make sense with her character. Like, from what I know about Japanese history, plucking your eyebrows was something that nobles (rich people) would do, and since Reimu is...neither of those things, I decided to just give her some thicker eyebrows instead (I will be saving the plucked eyebrows for another character though, so they will return). After I got to a face I was happy with, my next challenge was the hair. I did the front part first and liked that enough to continue, and then after more trial and error I realized that deep down I was a short-hair-Reimu-is-best-Reimu-truther this whole time because once I gave up on the long hair and gave her shorter hair something just clicked in my brain. And so, after drawing her outfit in again (this time without the yellow tie which is kinda sad but I'll find a way to incorperate it into future designs because it just was not making sense to me in context with the rest of the outfit) and finnicking around with the bow, I came to a version of Reimu's face that I actually liked. I thought that it made more sense for her character to have her cut it short, mainly because she's doing a bunch of Youkai extermination and she has to keep her hair out of her face somehow. I still wanted to make it kinda messy though, as Reimu is probably too lazy to clean it up herself. I think another reason I like it so much is because in Forbidden Scrollery, Moe Harukawa gave Reimu short hair and that really suited her, so I guess that was just a subconcious reason as to why I liked it so much. I also think that the shorter hair helps to separate her a lot from Marisa, as I think Marisa looks really good with longer hair. Speaking of, now I wanna do a drawing of her and Reimu together to really solidify how I draw them (unlike the previous version where it was just them standing). As much as I do like the face, I am concerned if she looks too much like how I drew Keiki now, but that might just be a product of the stylistic choices I made with her eyes and I might just be overthinking it. I am hyperaware of same face syndrome so that's probably the reason I'm so concerned about it lol.

Now for the fully body drawing. I was struggling to think of a good pose for her, so I just took a picture of myself and used that as a reference while still making slight adjustments for readability's sake. This is another case of, "I've looked at this too long and can spot every single issue with it" but this time I'm still happy with the final product mainly because this was a test drive for how I want to develop my lineless style in the future and for what it is I am more than pleased with the result. The main reason I deviated away from my lineless style was mainly because I was having a hard time with the lighting and making it interesting, and I am so glad that I've finally found a way to make it work! I'm especially happy with the clothes, as I think clothing folds are really fun to draw. I was somewhat inspired by the works of J.C. Lyendecker and the way he draws clothes, though admittedly it is not a one to one, since I mainly wanted to try implying the shading of the clothing folds with shapes (I do really want to do a study of his style one day as his art is incredible). So for the sleeves, I drew in a bunch of triangles where I wanted there to be a strong highlight, roughly coloured in the inside, and then blended them all so it looks like a more subtle. On both of these drawings, I also added in a noise filter to give it some texture (as that's what I used to often do with my drawings) and while I do like it, I might want to experiment with making it more subtle in the future, as it's pretty noticeable in both these drawings. Overall, I'm really happy with the lighting and colours of this drawing, and while I could nitpick several aspects of it (her hand holding the gohei looks too tense, I tried making her look like she was standing on the balls of her feet but the positioning of her Gohei's trail of papers ends up making it look weird, and I could've put more effort into the hair and bow and so many more things), this is more of a piece for me to experiment with my style again, and I'm excited for when I get a new idea for a piece, as I really wanna try some more stuff out with this style!

[bixels]

Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

[growthhyp]

The Transforming Cum V

Vincent’s eyes lit up as he measured Jonathan’s massive frame, his hands trembling with excitement. The tailor had always dreamed of working on a canvas like this—muscles so defined they seemed sculpted out of marble. “You’re going to need custom everything,” Vincent said, running a tape measure across Jonathan’s chest. The fabric I have here won’t even begin to contain you.

Jonathan chuckled, flexing his biceps unconsciously. “That’s why I came to you. Zayne and Chris will be next. They’ll need your expertise too.”

Vincent nodded, already sketching designs in his mind. “Consider it done. But first—” He paused, glancing at Jonathan with a sly smile. “Let’s make sure you’re comfortable. I might need you to try on a few prototypes before we settle on the final design.”

By the time Jonathan left Vincent’s shop, he felt like a new man. Not just physically, but mentally too. His confidence was soaring, and he couldn’t wait to tell Zayne about their new personal tailor.

Later that evening, Jonathan sat down with Zayne over coffee. “Vincent’s incredible,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s even willing to work on clothes for you and Chris. We’ve got style covered now.”

Zayne grinned, clearly impressed. “Good thinking. Now, what about maintaining all that muscle? You can’t slack off, you know.”

Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. The school gym isn’t cutting it anymore. I need something bigger, better. But…” He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m broke. College student problems.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “There’s gotta be something nearby. What about that place 15 minutes from your apartment?”

Jonathan shrugged. “The reviews are terrible. People say the trainer doesn’t set a good example. Apparently, he’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a fitness coach.”

Curiosity piqued, Jonathan decided to check it out for himself. The gym wasn’t far, and with a month’s worth of savings tucked away, he figured he could at least give it a shot.

When Jonathan walked into the dimly lit gym, he was struck by how empty it felt. A few scattered patrons lifted weights in silence, and behind the counter stood a man who looked anything but a trainer. Jim was tall but painfully thin, his wiry frame swallowed by an oversized hoodie. His face was gaunt, his eyes tired, but there was a spark of determination in them that intrigued Jonathan.

“Hey,” Jonathan greeted, stepping up to the counter. “I’m interested in signing up.”

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You… want to join my gym?”

Jonathan nodded, offering a friendly smile. “Yeah. I’ve been looking for a place to train. What’s the deal here?”

Jim sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Honestly? It’s not great. I inherited this place from my dad. It was his passion, but after he passed, I’ve struggled to keep it going. And—” He hesitated, lowering his voice. “I have a rare muscle atrophy disorder. No matter how much I train, I can’t build muscle. People see me and think, ‘Why would I take advice from him?’”

Jonathan’s heart went out to the guy. There was something heartbreakingly earnest about Jim, and suddenly, Jonathan had an idea.

“What if I could help you?” Jonathan said, leaning in closer. “What if I told you I have a way to transform your body—permanently?”

Jim blinked, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean? How?”

Jonathan smirked, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a special gift I have. All you have to do is trust me.”

Jim’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced around nervously. “I don’t know… What exactly are you proposing?”

Jonathan leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Here’s the deal. In exchange for a lifetime membership, I’ll give you the body of your dreams. Think about it. You’ll be the perfect advertisement for this gym. People will flock to you.”

Jim bit his lip, considering. “And this… gift. What does it involve?”

Jonathan’s smile turned mischievous. “It involves me. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

Jim’s breath hitched, and he nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Jonathan led Jim to a private corner of the gym, away from prying eyes. As they stood close, Jonathan’s hands found Jim’s waist, pulling him in. Jim trembled under his touch, his body tense with anticipation.

“Relax,” Jonathan murmured, his lips brushing against Jim’s ear. “Just let me take care of you.”

Jim shivered, his hands gripping Jonathan’s arms for support. “I’ve never… I mean, I’m… a virgin,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jonathan’s eyes softened. “Then I’ll make this special for you.”

Slowly, Jonathan guided Jim to the floor, laying him down gently. He peeled off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled torso, and watched as Jim’s eyes widened in awe.

“You’re beautiful,” Jim breathed, reaching up to touch Jonathan’s abs.

Jonathan chuckled, lowering himself until their bodies were pressed together. “You’re about to feel even better.”

As Jonathan prepared Jim, he noticed how tight the man was, untouched and virginal. It only made him more determined to make this unforgettable.

“Ready?” Jonathan asked, his voice husky with desire.

Jim nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yes. Please.”

The moment Jonathan entered him, Jim gasped, his body arching off the ground. It was overwhelming, the sensation both foreign and exhilarating. Jonathan moved slowly at first, giving Jim time to adjust, but soon the rhythm picked up, their bodies moving in sync.

Jonathan could feel the heat building inside him, and when he finally came, it was with a force that left them both breathless.

But something unexpected happened. As Jonathan pulled out, Jim’s body began to change. Muscles swelled beneath his skin, his frame growing larger and more defined with every passing second.

“Oh God,” Jim moaned, clutching at his chest as the transformation took hold. “What’s happening to me?”

Jonathan watched in awe as Jim’s once frail body morphed into that of a cocky bodybuilder. Every inch of him radiated power and confidence, and the look on Jim’s face was pure ecstasy.

“You’re beautiful,” Jonathan whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

Jim lay there, panting, his new muscles glistening with sweat. “I feel… amazing,” he said, his voice deeper, richer.

And then, as if the pleasure was too much to bear, Jim came, his own transformation complete. The two men collapsed side by side, their bodies still humming with raw energy.

Jim turned to Jonathan, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So, about that lifetime membership…”

[milkoomi]

semester success. ᥫ᭡

[ 3 chapter mini series ] | chapter one

in this series, i’m going to teach you all my helpful tips and tricks on how to succeed in the new semester in just 3 quick chapters! get ready to take notes, we’re diving right in!

chapter two — MASTERING NOTE-TAKING

in the last chapter, we talked about the first week and how to prepare for it! now, we’re going to get real into it and talk about one of the most important skills that can help increase your level of success throughout the semester: taking notes.

class is in session …

୨ৎ — physical or digital

let’s first decide how we’re going to take notes. if you’re the classic/traditional type, a notebook & some pens/pencils & highlighters are the way to go! but if you’re feeling a bit more modernized, grab your laptop and/or tablet!

i personally use my ipad to take notes! i know lots of people who use Notion, create digital documents for their notes, utilize GoodNotes/Notably, and i use this app called CollaNote (more on this later)! if you’re note-taking digitally, find an app or format that works best for you! you can play around with the different apps and tools on your device! digital note-taking also allows for more creativity, in my opinion, but i’ve seen loads of students get really creative with traditional styled notes!

digital note-taking inspo:

i highly recommend this post by @glowettee if you want a quick, but detailed list of how to get set up for digital note-taking!

physical note-taking inspo:

୨ৎ — note-taking methods

there’s lots of ways to take notes! that’s the beauty of note-taking, there’s no one right way of doing so or any wrong way of doing so! there’s a variety of ways to take notes, so find and play around with what works best for you!

different methods:

quick notes - the unaesthetic version

you’ll see lots of people say that they rewrite their notes, and i’m one of those people! i typically don’t take notes during lectures (mainly because my ADD doesn’t allow me to lol) but when i’m actually able to take some notes, my in-class writing is just plain bullet points and words scrambled onto my page.

i see “quick notes” as a way of making sure you get all the key points from the lecture without the stress of writing everything else down.

here’s how:

don’t focus on writing every single thing down! this will make you lose track of what the professor might be saying in addition to what’s in the textbook/lecture slides.

focus on the key points! keep an ear out for your professor and if they say something like “this will be on the exam” or “this is really important to know”. those are the things that need to be written down!

remember: you can always go back and rewrite your notes! having just the key points written down will help you 1. stay focused during class and 2. be prepared for what to focus on during your studies.

don’t worry about your notes looking bland or messy, again, you can go back and rewrite your notes to make it look nice and add additional information! this “quick notes” method is for people who are like me and struggle with taking notes during lectures!

** tina’s tip: record the lecture! if you’re able to have your phone out or if your computer/tablet has a recording feature, use it to record the lecture so that when you do go back to rewrite your notes you don’t forget any other important points!

mind-mapping - an organized flow chart

how it works:

start with your central idea or main topic you want to focus on! have this be the center of your mind-map.

when info regarding this topic starts to come up, write them down and connect that additional information with the central idea using lines and arrows.

get creative! use different colors and add images or symbols!

mind-maps are a great way to organize and visualize the information you need to do into a creative diagram! this is a great method for those visual learners!

boxing method - compartmentalizing notes

this method is another great one for visual learners as it allows you to create a chart for yourself and all that you’re learning in class!

how it works:

start by dividing up your page so that you have different boxes set out for you!

include headings/titles for each box and have them relate to each topic you’re learning.

in those boxes, write down key points from each topic and include any and all information as you can!

you can also connect the boxes with lines and arrows to see how all that information flows together and relates to one another!

i suggest going onto @nenelonomh ‘s blog and reviewing her study corner where there’s a section dedicated to different note-taking methods! as well as other helpful academic advice!

୨ৎ — record your lectures

i mentioned this earlier, but i just want to reiterate this point! recording lectures will help you so much with note-taking as it allows you to go back to what was said in class and continue taking notes that way. it’s extremely helpful especially when your teacher/professor is a fast talker and you can’t keep up with note-taking in class!

୨ৎ — color coding

an easy way to make your notes more appealing to you is by color coding everything! feel free to pick your favorite colors and use those!

what to color code:

key points

important vocab/terms

connecting topics

additional notes from your teacher/professor

୨ৎ — CollaNote

i promise this is entirely unsponsored, but i do love this app! it’s completely free (with in-app purchases if you want to unlock other templates)!

it comes with a variety of free tools, pen styles, highlighters, colors for those writing tools (which are also entirely customizable!), page templates, recording feature, and so much more that i can’t fully remember off the top of my head!

it also allows you to organize everything into folders which is really, really nice! organization of your notes is also super important when it comes to note-taking! so let’s get into organization!

୨ৎ — note organization

if you’re taking notes in the traditional way, make sure you have designated notebooks for each class. if you’re using a binder that includes all of your classes, make sure you have those divider tabs to prevent from any of your notes integrating with your other ones!

for digital notes, make sure you have folders or an organized list of links for each of your courses! it’s important that your files are titled accordingly so that there’s less confusion when you need to go back to any of your notes!

going back to note-taking methods, make sure when you’re writing your notes that you stay consistent with your organization!

write your topics in chronological order

create sections for different bits of information

color code

you don’t want your notes to be a jumbled mess! not having some kind of organization system can lead to confusion while studying or unclear information on the topics you’re learning.

before you’re dismissed …

note-taking, as i mentioned at the beginning, is one of the most important skills to have while in school. you want to make sure you have effective notes that will help you understand the material and help you study for upcoming quizzes/exams! just imagine yourself as the main character in a show or movie and think of yourself as this studious and amazing person while taking notes and sitting through lectures! romanticize your academic career!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[gracie-eilish]

billie x reader with a scalp massager 😭

-weirdo💙

an: no because i fear i might melt away into a puddle of magical lovey dovey sparkleness if this ever happened.

thank you for the request love bug☺️😘

an: also pls ignore the formatting! i typed half of this on my laptop but then it died so i used my phone for the other half and now the spacing is weird. idk. the story is still there lol!!🤷‍♀️🩷

You sat on the couch in Billie’s studio, half-watching the soft glow of the lights reflect off her focused expression as she worked on her new song. She had her headphones on, brows furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the volume, then leaned in to tweak something on the keyboard. Watching her in her element was mesmerizing, but after a while, you started feeling a bit… ignored.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, hoping she’d hear it. No response. You stretched your legs out, tapped your fingers against the couch, and sighed again, even louder this time. Still nothing. Finally, you got up and walked over, poking her shoulder.

She pulled one ear of her headphones off, glancing up at you with a small smile. “Yes?” she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes as if she already knew what was coming.

You put on your best pout. “I’m bored,” you whined, leaning against the back of her chair. “And you’re ignoring me.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she turned back to her computer, typing out a few more notes. “Baby, I just need a few more minutes, okay? Almost done.”

You sighed dramatically again. “But that’s what you said ten minutes agooooooooo.” You circled your arms around her shoulders from behind, resting your chin on top of her head. “Can’t I just steal you away for a little while?”

She chuckled, patting your arm. “Give me five more minutes, I promise. Then I’m all yours.”

Unconvinced, you flopped onto the couch, giving her your best puppy eyes from across the room. “What if I get lonely over here?” you called out, grinning.

Billie finally looked over, her face softening as she took in your playful pout. “Oh my gosh, you are too much,” she said, shaking her head. She turned back to her work, but you could see her struggling to hold back her smile.

You decided to up the stakes. You shuffled off the couch, tiptoeing up behind her before wrapping your arms around her shoulders again, this time leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. “How’s it going, genius?” you whispered, trying to sound innocent.

A tiny blush crept onto her cheeks. She let out a sigh, finally giving in. “You’re really not gonna let me finish, are you?”

You shook your head, grinning as you held her a little tighter. “Nope. And you love it,” you teased, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

She laughed, finally spinning her chair to face you. “Alright, you win.” She grabbed your hand, tugging you closer as she settled her hands around your waist, pulling you down onto her lap. “Attention granted, happy now?”

“Yeah,” you replied, wrapping your arms around her neck and nuzzling into her shoulder. Her hands held you close, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back.

“My head kinda hurts tho,” you grumbled quietly, with a pout.

She tilted her head, looking at you with that familiar, loving sparkle in her eyes.

Her cheeks flushed, as she leaned in, pressing her lips softly to yours. “Alright, little attention-seeker,” she teased between kisses. “What should we do now? Why is your head bothering you?”

You hummed thoughtfully, snuggling closer. “Can we go upstairs maybe?”

Billie hummed in amusement, she knew what you wanted now. And she was fairly certain your head didn’t actually hurt. But your little pout and puppy eyes were drawing her in.

“Mkayyy, sure babygirl,” she squinted teasingly. “My poor baby, her head just hurts so bad we have to go upstairs.” She sighed out dramatically while scooping you up bridal style and headed upstairs.

You nuzzled your head into her neck further, smiling victoriously.

Once you got upstairs Billie plopped you into the bed before heading into the bathroom to grab something.

While she was gone, you got yourself comfy on the bed, tucking yourself under the mountain of blankets and fluffing the pillows to your liking, but quickly flopping back down when Billie re-entered the room. She just chuckled lowly and made her way to the bed, slipping in next to you.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer so your head rested on her tummy so she had access to your scalp.

You were practically purring as Billie started moving the little scalp massager on your head. Softly and slowly, making sure not to scratch or poke you. After all your head did hurt just so badly… ;)

You nuzzled your head closer into her tummy, to where you could perfectly hear her heartbeat. You closed your eyes and let the sensation take over.

“Feels good, doesn’t it mama?” Billie chuckled at your blissed out expression, eyes half open and a sleepy smile on your lips.

“Mmm hmmm…” you mumbled, barely able to make a coherent sentence.

She pulled you a bit closer while she continued to move the massager around, hitting all the spots you needed. She knew she had been successful when your eyes had shut and your little snores actually sounded like purrs.

Slowly she removed the massager from your hair, not wanting to poke you, before snuggling in herself and joining you in sleep.

“Why’d you stop?” Your tiny voice broke the silence, making Billie giggle.

“I’m sorry my little kitty, I thought you were asleep,” she said with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resuming her little scalp massage.

She smiled, pulling you close as you nestled into her warmth, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. “You’re so clingy sometimes, you know that?” she whispered, though her tone was full of affection.

You smirked, running your up and down her arm. “Yep. You love it, though.”

Billie’s arms tightened around you. “I really do,” she said softly.

[lvis44]

Cabin Fever - Pt. 1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.6k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: Here is the beginning of my mini holiday series. A little bit of cheesy hallmark style enemies to lovers for your winter season! It will pickup quickly and I don't expect it to be too long but I'm excited to write some over dramatic cheesy angsty fluffiness! Best believe we will have it all lol

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

“Hey Y/N, everything is all set for when you land tomorrow! Dylan got you a rental car so you can go out whenever you want, it’s a bit of a drive from the airport but it’ll be so cozy once you get here! Oh my god I can’t wait, this whole thing is a dream come true.” Vanessa's voice cut through your voicemail loudspeaker as you applied your makeup. You were getting ready for a night out with your friends when you saw your sister in law's voicemail, you knew you couldn't ignore it, you knew she was in the middle of planning the family Christmas vacation, the one you were immensely dreading.  You decided on sending her a voice note back, not wanting to deal with the full three hour phone call that would ensue, making you late to your friends party.

“Hey V, thank you so much, and tell Dyl thank you too, I appreciate you guys figuring out the flights, let me know what I owe you guys later, I can’t wait to see you guys.” You say into your phone with forced enthusiasm, not wanting to go to the gathering in the first place. 

You grew up in New England, the winter season always took a toll on you. You didn’t like to ski or snowboard so once you were no longer a small child, the only thing that winter brought was shoveling and grey skies, both of which you hated. Once you were old enough and had enough money, you decided to move to the golden state, LA specifically, somewhere you would never see snow in your driveway again. Unfortunately your brother had remained glued to the winter life, settling down in snowy Colorado where he decided that his first family home needed to be celebrated by all. You couldn’t blame him really, it was bigger and nicer than anywhere you had ever lived. He and Vanessa were desperate for their first guests, eager to show off their beautiful new house and host both of your families at once. It seemed like a brag for Vanessa while your brother seemed to be in awe by the size of house they had moved into.

When you arrived at the club your friends were already deep, a few drinks ahead of you and in a much more playful mood than you were feeling. You were doing your best to let loose and have a good time but the nagging knowledge of your flight the next day was sitting heavy in the back of your brain. You were only half listening to one of your friends gush about some attractive man she was eyeing when you felt your phone buzz, a text from your brother Dylan to remind you of your flight as if it wasn’t the only thing you were thinking about already. You excused yourself as you headed to the bar in search of a new drink. While you were waiting a man appeared beside you, closer than you would have liked. You could smell the liquor on his breath before he even started speaking to you.

“Pretty girl having to buy her own drinks? Now this is just ridiculous.” He tried to flirt with you, his words slurring as they came out.

You forced out a polite laugh, before turning back to the bar, hoping the bartender would come soon.

“Oooh I see, she’s playing hard to get.” He said as if to someone else before he leaned closer to you. “C’mon lemme buy you a drink.”

“Doesn’t need you to, she’s got me, fuck off dude.” The voice came from behind you, immediately recognizable, Lewis. You wanted to roll your eyes, not particularly wanting to deal with him tonight but deciding he was better than the man that was currently ogling you.

“Shit, fine alright man, my bad.” The drunk man fumbled his words, seeming slightly startled and rather intimidated by Lewis. He started to stumble away, impressing you by how quickly he gave up but you couldn’t really blame him, Lewis had a certain aura about him that really told you not to mess with him.

As the drunk man left you felt Lewis take his spot next to you at the bar, not bothering to look at him, not really wanting to interact with him at all. You only knew Lewis through your sister in law Vanessa, they were family friends so he was around for important moments, holidays, birthdays, weddings etc. Those were the only times you ever interacted with him and every time you had left with a bad taste in your mouth. He seemed aloof, cocky, like he thought he was too good for the rest of humanity. He was annoyingly attractive and he knew it, you’d overheard him spitting game at more than a few women at your brother's wedding, and almost every single one of the women was falling for it. He had a way of carrying himself that just oozed arrogance, like everything about him was a level above everything and everyone else. You also had a certain distaste for the fact that every time you spoke to him he seemed to find a way to belittle you, talk down to you in a way that made you feel like a child despite being a fully grown woman. You had figured that you would be seeing him at some point this upcoming week, knowing Vanessa would have invited him for some part, but you didn’t think it would be at home in a club in LA that you first bumped into each other, never having done so before.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Colorado?” He asks, his voice already holding that familiar layer of judgement that you’ve grown to despise.

“Flights tomorrow morning.” You tell him, keeping it short, hoping the conversation doesn’t need to be much longer than necessary.

“Flight in the morning and you’re out at a club?” He quizzes you and you can hear in his voice that he’s getting ready to offer you advice you really don’t want or need.

“Just wanted to blow off a little steam before a week in paradise.” You huff, waving to the bar tender yet again, not meaning to let the last part slip so sarcastically.

“You act like we’re locking you in a dungeon and throwing away the key.” He almost chuckles before downing the rest of whatever had been in his cup.

“We?” You ask abruptly, finally turning to look at him. You had been anticipating seeing him but the way he said that made it sound like he was going to be around quite a bit more than expected. It truly pissed you off that the second you finally faced him, you were checking him out, such a pretty face with such an annoying attitude.

“I’ll be in Colorado for the week.” He said plainly with a shrug.

“At Dylan and Vanessas?” You asked in an almost panicked tone that he immediately noticed.

“Jeez, chill out, I’ve got my own place out there. Little miss perfect won’t have to worry about mean ol’ Lewis all week, I’ll just be around here and there.” His tone was teasing as he said it, making you roll your eyes, unsure of how else to respond. Before you could think of anything to say the bartender finally arrived in front of you, Lewis was ordering something before elbowing you, prompting you to tell the man what you wanted.

“You’re welcome by the way.” Lewis said, his voice smug as the bartender walked away.

Once again you found yourself rolling your eyes before forcing yourself to thank him for the drink, “Thank you, but you didn’t actually have to buy me a drink.”

“Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that if you keep rolling them that hard.” He told you, an unamused look on his face.

“You sound like my father.” You grumbled.

“Well maybe he has a point,” He shrugged, “but I wasn’t talking about the drink, was talking about your stupid drunk man. Gotta find better company.”

“I didn’t exactly invite him over here, Lewis. And I didn’t ask for you to come rescue me.” You snapped.

“Well you're V’s sister in law now and she's my little sis so I kinda had to.” He stated plainly as the bartender finally returned.

You watched as Lewis turned on his charm for the man, thanking him and giving him a generous tip, showing the side of the man that everyone else seemed to see all the time, one that he never reserved for you.

“Enjoy your drink and then go home, don’t miss your flight because you were out partying or show up hungover. Just get yourself there in one piece, that’s literally all they ask of you.” His words are directed at you again, coming out with an assumed authority that baffles you.

“I’m a grown woman Lewis, I’ll be just fine.” You bite at him, annoyed that he thinks he has the right to tell you what to do.

“I know Y/N, I know.” He says with a sigh as he grabs his drink. You watch as he steps around you, leaving back into the crowd without even a proper parting word. It once again causes you to roll your eyes before making your way back to your own friends.

“Okay, hot man at the bar, do you know him?” Your friend Lillian was leaning on you almost immediately, digging for info on Lewis that second you were within earshot.

“Uh, kinda, not really, he’s kind of an ass.” You tell her, hoping to dissuade her.

“Well with a face like that he can be an ass to me anytime he wants.” She says enthusiastically.

You just humm in response, returning your attention to your drink, not really wanting to further discuss Lewis and his annoying ways or aggravating beauty. His words about not missing your flight bounce around in the back of your head, of course you had already been aware of not being late but now it was all that was on your mind. Between his words and Dylans reminder you suddenly felt as if everyone was expecting you to flake, not actually convinced you were going to show up at all. Before you could even finish your drink you were deciding to leave, truly not in the party mood any longer. As you made your way to the door you just knew he was watching you, you could feel it and you hated that he was getting the confidence of seeing you do exactly what he told you to.

. . . 

Your morning had been hell, your flight having been delayed three times due to incoming weather. When you finally landed in Colorado you were well and truly in a cranky mood, one that only turned even further sour when the woman at the rental agency got snappy with you for being late for your pickup. You had tried to explain to her that your brother had made the reservation and that your flight was delayed but her attitude did not budge. She remained snippy with you as she grumbled about ‘finding you something to take’ before handing you the keys to a tiny sedan. When you approached it in the lot you were at your wits end, it's not that you needed something fancy or luxurious, it was the fact that the car you were looking at seemed as light as could be and evidently still had summer tires on it. There was a big winter storm brewing and you knew you still had at least a 45 minute drive to your brother's house, one that you hadn’t been looking forward to anyway. The snow was already coming down as you sat in the parking lot waiting for the car to warm up at least enough to defrost the windshield, you listened to the man on the radio talk about the incoming storm, saying it was set to be the biggest snowfall the area had seen in years and it was going to come down quick. You couldn’t help but grumble to yourself about your displeasure for the snow  as you texted your brother to let him know that you were getting on the road.

The storm thankfully decided to be merciful, only really beginning to pick up in the very last stretch of your journey, barely even causing any delay for you. When you got to your brother's house you could feel yourself letting out a sigh of relief, knowing that soon enough you would be inside a warm and cozy house with the people that you love, hopefully eating good food and having a cocktail. The moment your brother opened the front door you were met with the smell of a fireplace and something cooking for dinner, your tension slipping away just a bit more.

“Y/N! Thank god, I was getting worried when I saw the snow picking up.” Dylan said cheerfully, pulling you into the house to give you a tight hug.

“Hi Dyl, it’s definitely getting heavy out there but I think I missed the worst of it.” You can’t help but laugh slightly at how tightly your brother has embraced you.

“Come in, V’s got dinner going, Dad was just getting ready to make a round of drinks.” He rambles to you as he pulls you further in the house, reaching around to grab your suitcase off the porch.

“The Holidays can now begin, my other baby has arrived!”  Your moms voice carries loudly from the kitchen before you see her almost jogging in your direction, her arms wide ready for an embrace.

“Mom,” you laugh as she squeezes you even tighter than Dylan had, “you knew I was coming. Sorry I’m late guys, the airport was insane.”

“Sounds like you could use a drink Kiddo.” Your dad is next to pull you into a hug, not even having made it out of the foyer yet.

“I will take you up on that, I also need to change into something a little warmer, I dressed for cold LA not Colorado.” You admit as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, making you feel like a child.

“Yeah for sure, let me show you your room and then you can come say hello to everyone in the kitchen once you've changed.” Dylan says, grabbing your bag and already making his way up the stairs.

“This place is beautiful, Dylan.” You tell him earnestly as you follow him down the long hallway. It’s everything that you would imagine if someone told you they had purchased a Chateau in Colorado, deep exposed wood, high ceilings, massive windows. You were excited to see the rest of it, knowing Vanessa would be adamant about giving you a full tour. It was much too big for what they needed but you figured that didn’t matter as long as they were happy.

“Thank you, it’s really a dream come true. Never thought I would live in a place like this, much less own it.” He confesses as he swings open the door to a room at the end of the hall.

You offer your brother a warm smile before you turn to take in the room, suddenly stunned when you see the size and luxury of it. The room is expansive, massive windows on two walls and what appears to be a large balcony off the back. There is a sitting area in front of a fireplace and what appears to be a king size bed in the middle of the room. You can see another door off to the side and you can only assume it is a private bathroom.

“Dylan what the fuck? Why does it look like the master suite?” You ask him, overwhelmed, not having expected anything so grand.

He just shrugs with a smile as he steps further into the room, placing your luggage down next to the bed. “We just wanted you to be comfortable, we know this year has been hard for you and winter isn’t something you get along with, we’re just grateful you decided to come.”

“Dylan, I am not kicking you guys out of your room, oh my god.” You start to panic, immediately feeling guilty.

“No, you’re not,” He laughs at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “this is a guest suite, it's just the nicest of them.”

You let out a breath before feeling guilty again, “No what about mom and dad, or Beatrice and Tom, they should be in here, I just need a bedroom, this is too much.”

“Stop, everyones already settled, and we all agreed that you should have your own space, away from the rest of us. It only seemed fair.” His voice is sincere, not giving you any time to rebuttal before he is leaving the room and telling you to get changed.

By the time you make your way back downstairs everyone has settled in the den with drinks in their hand. You had to wander a bit at first, following the sounds of voices and laughter. The room was cozy, still sprawling but the lights were dim and the furniture was plush. You could hear the storm truly picking up outside, the trees snapping back and forth in the wind outside the window making you grateful for the fire crackling in the corner.

“Perfect, Y/N, I have a drink ready for you right here!” Vanessa called to you as you walked into the room.

“Thank you so much, this place is beautiful.” You tell her as you settle into the seat beside her, taking the drink and giving her a small hug.

“Ugh, thank you, this place is just such a dream come true, straight out of a fantasy.” She gushes immediately, promising to give you a tour once you've had some time to relax.

“Y/N, good to see you, feels like it's been a while.” Tom, Vanessa’s father, speaks up from across the room, raising his glass of whiskey in your direction. You offer him a smile, feeling a moment of guilt wash over you, knowing you had been invited to a few celebrations where your paths would have crossed but had decided against attending.

“She’s a busy woman, always nice to have her around when we get the chance.” Dylan pipes up, offering you a subtle save, knowing you probably don’t want to get too much into your personal life at the moment.

The conversation thankfully moves on, Tom choosing to change direction and grill Dylan on everything that is going on for him with his company, ever protective of Vanessa even now that they're married and in this beautiful home. Your mother on the other hand chooses to come sit next to you and Vanessa, Beatrice following her shortly thereafter. They do ask about your life in LA but Vanessa's mother is more interested in hearing if you’ve had any celebrity sightings than she is about your woes in life. Your mother wants to show off photos of art projects she’s been doing to keep herself busy. You can’t help but laugh at the two older women as you settle into the evening, nursing your drink as you share amused glances with Vanessa every once in a while. Every so often you hear the wind outside pick up, the storm casting a white haze over the large window at the end of the room. When you hear the doorbell you glance around the room, unsure of who would still be yet to arrive, especially so late and in the storm. Vanessa looks confused as well, Dylan getting up to go check the door.

“Hey man, didn’t expect to see you for another day or two.” You hear Dylan greet someone enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I caught an earlier flight out trying to avoid the storm and ended up landing smack in the middle of it. Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it back this way in the next few days so I figured I’d stop on my way out to my house.” The familiar British accent carries through the house, Vanessa's face lighting up as she darts up from her seat, ready to go greet her friend.

You feel yourself deflate slightly, having been enjoying the casual and kind air of the evening, knowing his presence would definitely cause a difference. You hear their voices approach from down the hall, Tom and Beatrice standing up, excited to see the man they have long adopted as a son. You always wondered if part of Tom was disappointed that Lewis and Vanessa hadn't ended up together, merely from the way that Tom's attention would end up solely on Lewis when he was around, almost entirely ignoring your brother. 

“Son, always a pleasure. How was your flight?” Tom asks the moment Lewis appears in the room, pulling him into a fatherly hug.

“Good to see you, sorry to pop in unannounced.” Lewis starts politely, turning on the charm toward Beatrice.

“Never worry, you’re always welcome.” She gushes, so happy to see him. It does make you laugh to yourself, it’s not her house to extend the invitation to but you’re not surprised.

He gives her a warm smile before continuing, “Yeah, flight was alright, a little choppy but nothing too bad. The airport here was a disaster though, glad I’d left my car there, the rental lot was picked through and cabs aren’t taking anyone past town.”

“Yeah, Y/N was saying the airport was crazy, I think she got the last rental car on the lot.” Dylan says, suddenly making Lewis aware of your presence, his eyes snapping to you.

“You remember Dylan's little sister,” Beatrice begins before Lewis is politely cutting her off.

“Y/N, of course,” He nods at you in what seems a kind way before the jab lands, “good job making it here.”

To everyone else it sounds like a comment about the storm but you know, you can see in his eye that he's referencing your conversation the prior night. His comment about everyone wanting you to just show up, it makes you think about Tom's comment when you first sat down, everyone knows you are the weak link. Before you can even respond, Vanessa is ushering him further into the room, annoyingly placing him where she had been sitting, directly next to you. She wanders away, headed to make Lewis a drink, completely unaware of the tension she sat next to you.

“You just get here?” Lewis asks, surprising you that he’s bothering with conversation at all.

“Few hours ago.” You say simply, turning your attention to watch the snow swirl in a mesmerizing dance.

He just nods, following your gaze to the window. 

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, Vanessa is returning with Lewis’ drink and announcing to everyone that dinner is ready. Lewis begins to protest, not wanting to intrude on a family dinner but everyone else is quick to shush him, telling him they would love for him to stay. Shortly thereafter you are all seated around a beautiful table, Lewis sitting directly across from you, a delicious looking meal placed in the center. Tom takes a moment to thank Vanessa for inviting everyone and being such a wonderful host, gushing about his daughter as he forgets to mention Dylan for even a moment. As the bowls get passed around the table you can’t help but notice that Lewis is ignoring almost everything that is placed in front of him, passing it along without a moments thought. By the time everyone is served you notice that his plate is only a salad, it makes you want to scoff, not even during his off season will he let himself indulge in something, too focused on his physique. You stay relatively quiet throughout dinner, just listening to everyone else chatter, it’s not until your mom asks Lewis what he has been up to since the season ended that you are caught off guard.

“I spent the last week in LA, needed some sun before winter.” He tells her, causing wires to connect in her brain.

“Oh! Y/N lives in LA, what a coincidence, I’m surprised you two don’t see each other more often.” The excitement in her voice makes you laugh as you quickly go to shut her down, not even registering that you had in fact seen him just the night before.

“Mom, it's a massive city-” You laugh.

“Well we actually saw each other last night.” Lewis says at the same time as you, stopping you in your tracks. He’s staring right at you as he takes a casual sip of his water before he glances around the table.

“Really?” Tom asks, leaning in like this is the news of the year.

“Oh come on, you didn’t tell them?” Lewis laughs, it’s hollow, not like the warm laugh you’ve heard directed towards other people. He knew you wouldn’t have mentioned it, he’s enjoying being the one to let everyone know you were out partying the night before family holiday.

“I mean, no I didn’t, but it’s not like it’s common.” You stutter out, weirdly flustered all the sudden.

“Yeah, ran into her out with some of her friends at a club last night, had to save her from a creepy drunk guy who didn’t want to leave her alone.” He tells the table casually, settling back into his seat.

“Well I’m glad you were there Lewis, I worry about her when I hear about her going out like that. This world is just getting too dangerous to be out flaunting yourself like that.” Your dad pipes up, making you whip your head in his direction.

“Dad, I wasn’t-” You begin to argue before getting cut off by Lewis.

“It wasn’t her fault. She was just there, shouldn’t have to hide away just because she’s a woman.” Lewis says firmly, looking at you again as if to seal his words, catching you off guard by defending you.

“Thanks.” You silently mouth in his direction. He doesn’t acknowledge it, carrying on with his story instead.

“But yeah, the guy left pretty quickly, he was harmless. I was surprised to see her though, figured she would already be here. I was glad to see you left when you did, with your flight this morning and all.” He continues.

“You were out too.” You quickly fire back at him, not enjoying the embarrassment in front of your family.

“Had a later flight than you,” He simply shrugs, a smirk forming on his face, “How was this morning, rough one?”

“My only issue this morning was the weather, thanks.” You say, a snip in your tone.

“Glad to hear it.” He says, getting comfortable in his seat as he thankfully changes topics. 

Thankfully the awkward air that had settled over dinner dissipated quickly and before you knew it Lewis was saying that he needed to get going, still needing to drive another hour to his own house. There was no hesitation before Vanessa and Beatrice were telling him to spend the night, not enjoying the idea of him travelling in the weather at night. You noticed his eyes flicker to you as he started to turn them down, part of you wondered if he was doing it because he told you he wasn’t staying with them but you doubted he was being that thoughtful. He stayed strong, adamant that he would be fine and that he really wanted to settle into his own place but that he would be back later in the week.You feel a certain relief as you see him finally manage to say his goodbyes, bundling up in his long woolen coat as he makes his way out the door. You can hear the wind when he stepped out the door and you did worry that his drive would be far from enjoyable but you didn’t feel like hanging out with him much longer. 

As you helped clear the table you noticed something on the ground, right below where Lewis had been sitting. You put down the plates in your hands with a huff, reaching down to grab what turned out to be a wallet. You internally groaned, of course he dropped his wallet, of course you found it, it would be wrong to send him on his way without it, especially in this weather. You let out a sigh, jogging to the front door, hoping he hadn’t left yet. When you pulled the front door open you were shocked, you almost couldn’t see the front steps mere feet from you.

“Holy shit.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing the nearest pair of boots by the door, haphazardly throwing them on in hopes of catching Lewis.

When you cautiously made your way down off the porch, wading through the rather deep snow that now covered the path to the driveway, you saw him clearing the snow off his car. His jacket was blowing in the wind and he had an arm up to shield his face from the blowing snow, much like you yourself did. You let out a sigh of resignation, there’s no way you could let him drive an hour in this, no matter how badly he got on your nerves. You continue to make your way toward him, snow falling into the borrowed boots making you wince.

“Lewis,” You call out to him, “what the hell are you doing?”

He turns toward you, a confused look across his features, “Cleaning off my car, what do you need?”

“I can see that,” You say as you get closer to him, rolling your eyes at his answer, “I mean why the heck are you trying to drive home in this? Just come back inside.”

“Came all the way out here to save me? I’ll be fine, you seemed pretty worried that I was staying here the other night.” He says, turning back to his car.

“Actually I came out here because you dropped your wallet.” You say plainly, not enjoying his attitude but catching his attention again.

“Shit, thanks.” He extends his hand, waiting for you to hand it over.

“No, you’re insane, just grab your bag and come back inside. You annoy the shit out of me but I don’t particularly want you dead on the side of the road.” You shake your head, stepping back from him to prove that you’re not handing his wallet over until he turns his car off and comes inside.

“Well that's nice to hear.” He says sarcastically.

“You dying right before Christmas would kind of ruin holidays for me forever, V would be distraught.” You throw at him, it being partially true.

“Fine.” He concedes through a huff, his shoulders slumping as he trudges to his car door to kill the engine.

You watch as he grabs his bag from the backseat before making his way toward you, gesturing impatiently for you to go so he can follow you back to the house.

“Besides, now I’m the hero that convinced Mr. Perfect to stay, I basically just saved your life.” You say teasingly over your shoulder as you start your way up the steps. You’re too focused on your own dig and not enough on the slippery stairs, your feet almost coming out from under you. Much to your embarrassment, Lewis is there with a steadying grip on your arm.

“Just saved my life and then tried to break my neck by falling on me.” He mutters, letting go of you once you're stable.

“Give me a break, I’m pretty sure I’m wearing Dylan's boots.” You argue, pulling away from him harshly.

The moment you are inside he is being swarmed by your family again, all so happy he has decided to stay the night, no one even paying attention to the fact that you’ve come inside with him. Dylan is quickly showing him to his room for the night, apologizing that it’s not very fancy. You decide to slip away up to your room, having gotten rather cold and wet in your time outside. The whole time you’re getting ready for bed you’re telling yourself that it’s only for the night. You won’t even notice that he’s here and he will be gone tomorrow when the storm has passed. That hope lasts very briefly until you hear a knock on your door. You naively swing the door open, assuming it's someone to come say goodnight, and there he is.

“What the hell do you want?” You groan.

He doesn’t respond, he just pushes off the doorframe pushing past you into your room as he lets out a long whistle.

“This might actually be nicer than my bedroom at home.” He says, still ignoring your question as he looks around the room.

“Yeah it’s beautiful. What do you want?” You ask again, eager for him to leave so you can climb under the blankets.

“So pushy,” He chuckles, turning back to you, “I believe you have something of mine?”

“Right.” You say flatly, moving past him to the dresser where you had thrown his wallet that had still been in your pocket.

“How much did ya take?” He asks after you hand it to him, flicking it open as if to inspect that all his cards are still there.

“Not nearly enough.” You grumble, sitting down on the end of the bed.

He just chuckles, taking another glance around your room before walking out of your room without a word, something he seems to be making a habit of. You groan when you see that he’s left your door wide open, reluctantly making your way off your bed.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow.” You mutter to yourself as you lean against the now closed door, and you can only pray it's true.