#SO THIS'LL BE MY FIRST TIME WATCHING IT

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Hey, I'm thinking about hosting a watch party of Clerks on the 28th before it leaves Netflix, with the goal of posting the link at 5pm Central Daylight Time and starting the film between 5:30 and 6:00, or earlier if it seems like nobody else is going to pop in.

Please put your nuances in the comments/tags if you would prefer the event start earlier or later!

[addicted-to-the-knife]

today is the DAY <3 Saw X time, babyyy!!!

since Germany decided that Saw X was gonna release on November 30, I had to wait a little too long for my sanity's sake to watch it. but, no more! this evening is finally Saw X tiiimeee~ <3

[arielluva]

went to look up some of the changes between the original broadcast and the remaster and now im excited to finish this rewatch on the dvds i got... ooh dvds from 1999 and 2002........ this is gonna be a slightly different experience which i hope will be interesting

[tesl8n]

Ordered all 8 volumes of the Bloom Into You manga from my local bookstore and most of the back half was on backorder. So I was like "Yeah, just call me as they come in, it'll force me to pace myself as I read instead of binging them all" assuming that I'd get 1/2 first.

Just picked up 8, 7, 5, and 3 lmao >.<

[squinch-depraved]

idea: schlatt and you trying some special sex chocolate and accidentally take way more than you mean to and the effects r starting to take place 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐏 anon

oh this is yuMMy. delicious. scrumptious, even. thank u to 🐏 anon for being my first ever ask ily mwah i hope this is good i've never used these chocolates before but i might have to 🫣

coming home from a long day to your boyfriend's empty apartment was not what you were hoping for. you were hoping to come home to him watching something on the tv, rotting on the couch in his usual comfy clothes, playing with his two sweet cats, and just waiting for you to get home. in your mind, he would have sprung up to greet you the second the door opened, gliding through the apartment to place a tender kiss on your lips as he picks you up and twirls you around. but the unnerving silence you actually did come home to rips you from your daydream before he can place you back down on the ground and gush about how much he missed you. the cats finally skitter up to you, meowing and trilling in a way that lets you know they're absolutely starved for attention (he's been gone maybe 20 minutes, probably). cooing at the sweet babies as they butt their heads into your legs, you pet them and settle in for the night.

after having changed into one of his shirts and deciding pants weren't worth the effort, you stumble into the kitchen to grab a snack. lucky you, your perfect boyfriend had left a plain gold box of 12 wrapped chocolates on the counter! no labels, other than a little logo in the corner, but a small note was stuck onto the top of the box, reading: "take ONE - be back soon toots" along with a heart. you sigh contentedly and tear into the box. you hadn't had much time to eat today, and you were sure your boyfriend who loved to spoil you would be fine with you having more than the allotted amount of mysterious chocolates. what's the worst that could happen, they're edibles? at least then you'll have a story to contend with ted's!

the first chocolate melts on your tongue, leaving an almost rosy flavor behind that you can't quite get enough of. you debate if this'll be worth the punishment, but the chocolate was impossibly good, so you decide to go in for one two three more before dancing yourself down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. feeling slightly warm, you lay down in the middle of your bed and put some random video on the tv, dozing off a few minutes later. your job was exhausting, he'll get the hint you're sleeping and come find you when he gets home to a silent apartment. see how he likes it.

but he doesn't come home to a silent apartment. whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, echoing down the hall from your bedroom's open door. his eyes immediately dart to the little gold box on the counter, eyebrows shooting up in an oh, fuck motion when he sees the four wrappers littering the surface. he quickly drops his stuff where it needs to go and pops two chocolates in his mouth himself, figuring he'll need help keeping up with you after how many you've had, before quickly walking to the bedroom. the sight that awaits him leaves him standing in the doorway for a while until he finally decides to wake you up.

you lay there, babbling in your sleep, random phrases about how good something feels and how close you were. mostly incoherent horny gibberish. your (his) shirt has ridden up a bit, panties visible and soaked as you writhe unconsciously, desperately trying to get friction from a pillow, the blanket, something, anything. it makes him smirk, and he watches you for a moment before sitting down and gently stroking your cheek.

"y/n," you hear. "doll, c'mon, i gotta take care of you." you slowly come to, and once you process that he's here, he's back, you jump him. pulling him down to kiss you before attacking his neck with little nibbles until he pulls away, a stern (yet amused) look on his face. "i told you one. ONE. piece of chocolate."

you hide your face in your hands. "what the fuck did you do to me, j?? i thought maybe they were edibles or something, but this doesn't feel like a normal high? i'm sorry, i know i shouldn't have eaten them now but oh my god, what did you DO to me? i feel like a feral, ovulating, cavewoman or some shit!!" you whine, earning a laugh from him.

"they're sex chocolates."

you move your hands and look at him. "sex chocolates," you repeat.

he nods.

"why the fuck wouldn't you say that??" you smack his arm.

he grins and replies, "thought the mystery would be sexy."

"i mean, inadvertently, yeah!" you sigh, amused and frustrated all at the same time.

he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. "i took two to keep up with you," he breathes into your ear.

you hook your legs around him and pull him as close to you as you can. "then let's go! c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you pant as you grind up against him, groans spilling from his lips. "fuck me! touch me! something, j, please, i'm begging you," you plead, kissing him frantically all over his chest and neck. hands exploring under his sweater and dragging nails down his back, arching your back and moaning without him having to even do anything, he swears he's never been this hard.

the first time you cum, it's from his head between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit and sopping pussy like a man deprived of water for days. he keeps going until you're crying, begging him for another kind of stimulation besides his thick fingers ramming in and out of you and his chops brushing against your purple-marked thighs. the second time you cum is also from his masterful mouth, and this time he listens when you say you can't take it anymore. he drags himself up to look at you, kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, and slowly pushes himself into you as you whine and squirm.

round one, he starts gentle, slowly working his way up to a medium pace, where he starts fondling your chest. once he really gets going, though, he's spitting on you, choking you, and rubbing your clit with his thumb all while pounding into you at an incredible pace. "so good for me, toots," he growls, fucking into you almost inhumanely now. all you can manage is a whimper. you cum once more before he pulls out and makes you suck him off til he finishes, grabbing your hair and guiding you up and down, and then really far down before cumming down your throat.

ten minutes of making out later and round two starts with him shoving you down, hands and knees, so he can shove himself into you from behind. something about the recoil of your ass makes his brain short circuit. he brings his hand around to your clit again and it's not long before you're screaming that you're about to cum again, and he smacks your ass so hard you know it's going to leave a mark and says, "fuckin' cum for me, you stupid slut. can't listen to directions but i bet you'll follow that one, huh?" through gritted teeth. you cry out and collapse as your fourth orgasm rips through you. he holds you up long enough for him to somehow speed up before filling you up with his pearlescent seed.

you both lay there for a second before he kisses the back of your head and pulls out, leaving to go get you some water and then help you to the bathroom. you make a mental note to always eat more than one of those chocolates and sigh, finally feeling satisfied.

[zhounauts]

͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏─── ☆ JUST SAY YES ! ͏͏͏͏͏

SYN.͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏the many times he's been rejected by you, what happens when you just say yes to him? ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ XX ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏EN- HYUNG LINE X READER ͏͏͏ RAE'S NOTE(S) qotd how long has this been sitting in my drafts!! july we say in unison! ok but this is my first attempt at a hc, lmk how it is!

☆ LHS ( 희승 ) when heeseung sets his mind on something, he doesn't plan on giving up— even if it means getting rejected by you for the third time. he can feel his spirits fall with each rejection, but he doesn't let it stop him and instead tries to find reasons as to why you could be saying no. did you dislike him? definitely not, you wouldn't be here then. were you a masochist? hopefully (and probably) not. did you like someone else? he'd rather die than think about that. and so, heeseung finds himself sitting across from you again, his eyes watching your every move. he can't help but blurt out another date idea. his mind spasms when he hears you say the one word he never expected to hear, his heart beating and eyes lighting up in joy. he watches as you grow flustered from across from him, his grin growing with every second.

"what did you just say? yes? was that a yes? say it again!"

☆ PJS ( 제이 ) jay was so sure you had been reciprocating his feelings back. so when his attempt to ask you out brings forth a scathing no he feels as if he's been hit on the head six times and then slapped silly. it's so utterly mind boggling to him, that he finds himself shaking the rejection off and asking you out for a second time a month later. he hides his obvious bashfulness when you turn him down once again, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, your constant rejection only makes jay want to hear yes from you even more. looks like third time is the charm because when jay finds himself asking you out once again, you nod, a small smile on your face. jay laughs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair as he tries his best to smother the growing smile on his face.

"wow. . .okay. . .wow, was that a yes?"

☆ SJY ( 제이크 ) it takes jake a while to build up the courage to ask you out. so when you say no, it's safe to say he's utterly. . .devastated. jake isn't quite sure how to act around you anymore, choosing to take the rejection. but when sunoo and ni-ki find him moping around in his apartment, it takes only a couple of reality-inducing jabs from them to get him on his feet, and at your door with flowers once again. he shifts nervously on his feet, bouncing from left to right as he tries reciting what he's written down. you cut him off with a laugh, making his heart race, before you take the flowers from him and say yes. jake blinks, mind going blank, before he wraps his arms around you in joy and spins you around promises that this would be the best date ever flying from his mouth.

"you won't regret this at all! this'll be the best date you've ever had,"

☆ PSH (성훈 ) sunghoon isn't great at all this romance stuff. so when he meets you, and starts getting all those tingly, nervous, giddy feelings he decides to work up the courage to ask you out. when you reject him, silence hangs in the air for a painful minute before he nods and slinks away. this moment constantly replays in his head, making him shift in his sleep and grip his hair in embarrassment. so much so, he finds that he can't handle it any longer, calling you in the dead of night, and asking you out once again as soon as you pick up. there's silence from your side of the line, before your voice cuts through accepting his proposal. sunghoon plays it off as cool, but on the inside he's freaking out as he bids you goodbye. looks like he still won't be able to sleep.

"did she just say yes? what just happened?"

ZHOUNAUTS , 2024

[pomefioredove]

movie night

summary: vil devotes his time to showing you all the movies you haven't seen yet type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, kinda short author's note: I so often think about how yuu is completely unfamiliar with pop culture in twisted wonderland. vil would lose his mind if he found out you hadn't seen a single movie yet. in my heart I know he's a little nerdy about it

It's to be expected.

Of course. Of course you haven't had the time or the means.

It's perfectly reasonable that you'd put your studies and social obligations before leisure time. He understands.

But hearing you so openly admit that you haven't seen a single movie since arriving in this world, let alone one of his, doesn't sit well with Vil Schoenheit.

As it turns out, the mythological being who doesn't spend their free time absorbed in media is real, and they're standing right in front of him with an apologetic smile.

Oh, you poor, poor thing.

Even after the conversation dies and you part ways on good terms, Vil can't shake this odd, itchy feeling.

He wonders what it must be like- not understanding anyone's references, being left out of conversations, still so dependent on a culture that doesn't even exist here.

Is there something wrong with the people you spend your time with? Surely at least one of them would take the time to show you the classics. Just one.

No wonder everyone regards you as naive and innocent. No one's taken the time to explain anything about this world to you. And he's sure that extends far beyond cinema...

"What is this?"

It's the first thing you ask when he opens the door to you. Ever curious, ever clueless.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he says, looking thoroughly unamused with your naivete.

A projector. A white screen. And a tray full of luxury skincare essentials that he'll be sure to test on you while you're distracted.

"Seriously," you say. "What's going on? Your message was really vague."

He sighs. "Oh, goodness, just come inside,"

Vil sits you down on the edge of his bed and hands you a plush headband to push your hair out of your eyes. He's more than pleased at your lack of protests thus far, and continues to take advantage of your willingness while smearing a sweet-smelling face mask over your cheeks.

"It needs to set before we start,"

"Start what?"

Vil smirks, standing and drifting across the room to a large wardrobe- no, a cabinet. He opens it- no, a shelf. Packed full of DVDs, arranged by date and in pristine condition.

"Wow, Vil. I never took you for a nerd,"

His gaze sharpens. "Hardly. And try not to talk so much right now, you'll crack the mask,"

He hums merrily, delicate fingers dancing over the smooth plastic cases before stopping at a soft white one. "This'll do,"

You watch as Vil returns to your side, carefully inspects your face, and then walks back around to tinker with the projector. You, of course, wait patiently, hands folded neatly in your lap as the screen ahead of you comes to life.

He turns off the lights and sits beside you as a white light illuminates your face, turning the hue of the mask a strange color.

"This is a classic," he whispers. "It's the first film I remember loving."

"It's that good?"

He chuckles. "No, it's quite outdated, and terribly unfunny. I'm just fond of it,"

If there's anything Vil Schoenheit is, it's honest. The entire black and white picture (which you surmise is quite old by Twisted Wonderland standards) is heaped with unfunny and confusing references, terribly paced, and acted like a primary school play.

And yet, there's a sense of warmth that permeates the external terribleness of it, that of which takes form in each of Vil's awkward laughs.

You revel in each of his little comments, his tidbits about the actors, his trivia about the production. He certainly seems to know what he's talking about, and his grace and confidence almost distract you from how nerdy he's really being.

Though, he's really not paying close attention to the screen. Vil seems far more interested in watching you, your reactions, almost as if searching for some kind of approval in the expressions you make. Do you laugh at this joke? Do you ask about this plot twist? Do you enjoy this song?

It's a completely alien experience, having him looking to you for validation, although you make sure to comment on how much you enjoyed yourself. Just to see him smile again.

"Same time next week, then," he says. "One movie won't be enough to catch you up on decades of pop culture, after all."

And thus, a tradition is born.

It's strange for him to think about how you've made yourself a home in his schedule. Wedged between expensive photo shoots and meetings with luxury brands, there's you. One single name in the same spot every week.

He couldn't admit it, but you've quickly become the highlight of his calendar.

"And this is just after they transitioned to movies with sound. It was a grand extinction event, not every studio nor star survived," he says, nodding to the screen ahead.

You hum in agreement. Your eyes are heavier than usual, and you're leaning against your elbow, absent-mindedly agreeing with everything he says.

A part of Vil wants to tease you for finding his taste in film boring, but he's not even sure if you have the mental capacity to listen to big words right now.

"Sleepy?"

"Grim kept waking me up last night..." you sigh. "I'm paying attention, I promise."

He watches you lie through your teeth, and then he watches as your words grow heavy and your body slumps over, awkwardly positioned against his.

Vil sighs- whatever is he going to do with you and that terrible sleep schedule of yours?- and readjusts so that your head is neatly set in the crook of his neck and your body is comfortably fit against his.

He finishes the movie, and lets the screen play the menu sequence over and over again. It's not really worth waking you up over, after all.

You're so cute when you're sleeping.

He hates himself for thinking that. You're perfectly inelegant- awkwardly breathing, practically drooling. And yet, he could stay here for the rest of the night and not wholly regret it in the morning. He just wishes you'd picked a better time to fall asleep on him.

Someday, he'd gladly return to bed to cuddle with you after he'd done his evening routine.

But... just this once, he'll let it go.

[unreleasedwrites]

OMG i hope this'll be the first smut req ever on your blog 😂 can i have a smut of Gun w/ his s/o on wedding night 🩷 just no degradation please bc i'm against it 🥲 thank you so much 💖

- 🧸 anon

Newlyweds

character(s) included: Park Jonggun x fem!reader

cw: implied SMUT, sexual content, has plot, Gun is not mean (imo), praise, baby fever, swearing, completely consensual, couple + kinky nicknames 😭, breeding kink (?), teasing, my first time writing smut so have mercy on me 🤕, also i don’t think there is degradation here, I tried writing this in an endearing way where gun is not a meanie !!

❤︎︎ — written on Tuesday Night, June 4 2024 - until published

❤︎︎ — published on Wednesday Afternoon, June 5 2024 (arnd 3 pm)

༄ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ༄ contains sexual content and implied smut !!

“Smile!!” Your cousin said with glee while she was taking photos of you holding her adorable baby, who was born just around two months ago.

The baby was giggling nonstop as you were playing with her in order to get her to smile. You held her with your arms while posing for the camera. It was such a cute moment, all you could think about was how dedicated your cousin was to attend your wedding despite having literal twin boys just recently.

The other twin was asleep in the care of his father. While you, along with your cousin, continued to take pictures of you with one of the twins. You were in an elegant wedding dress while the baby was nicely dressed in yellow.

People watched you with the adorable baby, some even suspecting that he was yours and Guns’. Others went into absolute awe whenever the baby would match your energy.

One of those people was your newly wedded husband, Gun.

He was chatting with some of his trusted friends whom he chose to invite, when he heard the commotion and looked over to the front portion of the venue, which was overly traditional, only to see you holding a baby. You looked so genuine and happy over a little thing, that it sort of confused him. You two have already talked about kids and he didn’t seem to care that much, but he’s held Yenna before so he knows how adorable they are.

But seeing you up there being so happy, and seemingly caring so much for a little infant— that made him feel an entirely new way about having a family.

It didn’t help that his close friends were pushing him into the idea, suggesting that the baby could be yours and Guns’ instead in the near future and that you would be doing the same thing. Saying you’d be such a good mother, with them knowing how you are around children since Gun has introduced you some time ago.

Given how traditional Gun and his family can be, they have been bothering him constantly about a baby while Gun just brushes it off. He’s too busy to have a baby after all, right?

Well, that’s what he usually thinks, but its almost like he changed in an instant when he saw you. From the moment he first saw you, up until now— he’s always thought that you’d look so good full of him, full from carrying his child.

“Nnnggh— Gu-Gunn..!!—” You whined helplessly as Gun continued thrusting into you, even after 2 continuous rounds. His stamina truly unmeasurable.

“Shhh.. m’gonna stuff you full with my cum, you’re gonna look even more irresistible,” Gun whispered in your ear without breaking his rhythmic thrusts into your little pussy.

Gun has been taking his sweet time on you, literally. He has been on top of you for what feels like hours now. Your usually tired after only one round, but tonight… who knows how much rounds you’re in for. He’s been acting all lovey dovey after he saw you with that baby, telling you sweet nothings and what not.

“I can’t— m’ too full alread—yy!!” You practically screamed from pure pleasure when Gun started dragging his cock in and out, teasing you of your closely awaited orgasm.

“Awh, my wife shouldn’t have to worry about that— After all, you’re doing soooo good f’me, taking me in so damn well.” He groaned in between words as he felt the teasing pleasure from dragging his cock in and out of your hole too.

You were an absolute mess at this point, Gun was teasing you of your third orgasm while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, knowing you love when he does that. With every phrase he’d whisper, he could feel you getting even wetter, if that was even possible.

“You’re gonna look so beautiful carrying our baby,” he’d whisper as he slowly pushes his cock deeper into you, slowing down his thrusts a whole lot just to get a reaction out of you.

He’s just in love with the way you whine and moan for him, the way you squirm under him only makes him even more determined to fill you.

He thinks you look so pretty like this, when you’re a moaning mess, with tears forming in your eyes from how good his cock feels inside of you.

His thrusts slow down but get even deeper than they already were, which you never would have imagined that could happen. He’s hitting spots you didn’t even know was there to be pleasured.

“Nnnnnghhh— d-daddyy… feels so.. good,” you managed to utter out, throwing your head back involuntarily. Fuck. That immediately brought Gun to a halt. His cock twitched uncontrollably and he finished right there and then, deep inside of you.

“Wh..What was that, that you just called me..?” He groaned while breathing heavily.

“Mmm.. you mean, daddy?” You replied, trying to regain some sort of composure and energy. His cock twitched at the name. You could tell he was only getting harder and even more amused with how this was going.

He only laughed in response and began to thrust in and out of you again, much faster than he was when you two first got in bed.

“NNnnn—! W-waitt!! Needa break—, ple..ase!” Your words only got him harder as he hit all sorts of spots which got you even wetter.

“No can do, seems like you’ve been teasing me on purpose since we woke up this morning,” He said as he leaned in to kiss you.

Your moans were muffled out by the kiss, and his thrusts began to get sloppier, “b-but m’legs hurt so bad..” You complained because you were practically folded with your legs having hung in the air ever since you two started. But unfortunately for you, Gun loves doggy style and missionary, and you do too— just not that much when you’ve been in the same position for so incredibly long…

“How’s my pretty wife doing?” Gun suddenly brings up amidst all the moaning and groans that filled your guys’ hotel room. He always wants to check in on his pretty girl after all.

“I don’t feel as tired anymore.. which is weird since we didn’t take a break or anything like that, but it feels nice....” You reassured him, knowing that he is trying his best to hold back on you, and not go overboard.

Especially since this is your guys’ one and only wedding night. He knows you’re already exhausted from walking around and chatting with all sorts of people and dolling yourself up because you want to look your very best for your guys’ special day. So of course, he wants you to be able to relax but still enjoy the special night. After all, this isn’t just another fuck session you guys are having, it’s different.

“haghhhh—, feels so good, Jonggun..” You said, much more relaxed with the pace of his thrusts.

Gun smiled at your little reaction, not in a mocking way but in the way that he finds you awfully adorable.

“My wife likes it much, much more when we’ve got no protection on, does she now?” He replied as he stroked your cheek with the dried off tears from earlier.

“Mhm,” you nodded as you stroked his messy hair.

You could feel his pace grow quicker and his breath hitched. It was evident that he was close and you were too.

“Gun, m’cumming—!” You suddenly shrieked when his pace kept increasing and he got impossibly closer to you, placing his lips on yours as you both finished.

You felt so immensely tired yet happy. He broke the kiss and brushed his finger over your wet lips while maintaining eye contact with you.

He had what looked to be an involuntary yet very genuine smile, which he kept on before lifting you up princess style towards the bathroom— Where he gently placed you in the bathtub and turned the faucet on. He got into the bathtub with you and pulled you closer so that your back would be leaning on his chest. His grasp on you is surprisingly gentle, relaxing even.

You both were in pure bliss.

notes: help idk 😭 I really hope this isn’t too bad, especially for the anon who requested it 🤕 I tried but yeah i’ve never written smut until now so sjeiehjsksiwjwkkss but I do like to read so I try to get some like tips from those iykwim

anyway i hope it doesn’t seem like degrading since i tried my best to write it in a nicer way but yk ig it also depends on how you read and see it on your own so yeah and yes i have a different layout and style for smut fics 😁😁

ngl i think this might be the quickest i’ve done a request… if not then its definitely the second 😭

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

Once again, I hope this isn't too bad for my first smut fic 😭, and I'II be doing more characters in lookism so feel free to request!!

[matchalovertrait]

"Count your days," is what Dulce is thinking. She WANTS to kill him, but she still feels a little bad for breaking his heart... and she's trying to be in her character development arc! Also, she kind of got herself into this mess.. What's a girl to do in this situation???? Okay, okay. Y'know what? We're overcomplicating things. In response, we have to be well-mannered and considerate. There is a certain image we have to maintain. Dulce will make a video calmly explaining the truth and bring out the receipts. After all, her cookbook wasn't made overnight. There are drafts of her ideas everywhere on her computer and she backed everything up in other places. This'll be easy to handle! Piece of cake.

Note: I'm kind of exploring different genres with each generation, at least the first three. Generation 1 was more slice-of-life (besides the social commentary on money, power, etc.). Generation 2 is going to be much more telenovela-esque 😅 So if things get a little outlandish, it's supposed to be like that.

I also researched a lot for certain things that are coming up, but I'm just one person so maybe it's not 100% perfect 😭 I don't have an editing team and I'm a very inexperienced writer. Sooooo yeahhh, let's get this next part started!

Transcript:

Dulce: Oh, a text from Rubiya! Did she send me another cat video?

Dulce: Never mind, she didn’t. Why does she want me to see Caruso’s video? Did he become an executive chef? Good for him.

[Thumbnail of Caruso's video titled, "storytime: MY IDEAS WERE STOLEN!!]

Dulce: This better be a clickbait title and this better not be about me.

20 mins into the video...

Caruso's "video" subtitles: Sorry for how long this video ended up being, but yes. In short, Dulce Alegria and I broke up because she was toxic. She treated me unfairly and took my recipes without asking! I was too afraid to speak out.

Caruso's "video" subtitles: However, I now recognize my self-worth will no longer be silenced! It’s time for me to take the credit for my stolen work. Bravo for me.

Caruso's "video" subtitles: I’m proud of myself for finally stepping forward. I was being manipulated and taken advantage of for too long. Thank you for watching.

Dulce: Son of a bitch.

Dulce: Okay, but there is no way people actually believe this. My cookbook is clearly personal to ME. [Scrolls down to read the comments.]

Dulce: I’m going to kill him.

[shotmrmiller]

johnny en las almas

It feels like the man with the skull mask had just left when another person traipses in through the broken front door. He's not as sneaky as the big boy— the shattered glass of your windows crunching under his boots with each step. With each inhale, his breath is ragged and uneven, his teeth clattering together due to the biting cold of the rain pouring outside.

Peeking through the crack of the closet door, you watch the muscle-bound soldier with the mohawk moving cautiously through your home— first going left towards your bedroom, then right towards the bathroom.

"Picked up some tape." Scottish accent. Is he talking to himself?

A brief pause settled in the air, interrupted solely by the faint noise of him rummaging through the cupboard.

"If I have to wrap a gift?" He has a radio, then.

Following that, he falls silent, continuing his search for supplies when the plastic bucket you're sitting on unexpectedly caves in, causing a loud and startling noise. Shit. Shit shit shit—

"Out, palms flat on the floor, or I break yer neck." His voice is like steel— hard and cold, much unlike a few minutes before when he was bantering with whoever it was.

You push the door open with the crown of your head to keep your hands flat on the floor as you fearfully crawl out, craning your neck to look at him.

"Creepin' bloody jesus. Cannae be scarin' me like tha', coulda killed ye."

Perhaps it's the overwhelming stress of everything that has unfolded today— from the unexpected arrival of Americans to the uncertainty of becoming just another statistic that leads you to respond with an unwise touch of sarcasm.

"So sorry, friend. I'll be sure to let you know when I leave for work tomorrow, yeah?"

He surprisingly chuckles, wincing when his shoulders shake. "Aye, sorry, sorry," he extends a hand toward you. "Terrible hidin' spot, though."

With a single motion, he effortlessly raises you to your feet. "If you're friends with a bear-sized man that wears a skull mask, he told me the same thing."

As you glance downwards, brushing off the dust from your knees, you fail to notice the piercing gaze he directs towards you. "He came through here?"

"Mhm," you confirm. "Picked me up like a dog and threw me in this closet behind him. He saved my life, though."

Straightening, you glance up at him, only to finally notice the openly bleeding wound on his right arm. "May I?" you gesture at his injury.

His hesitance is obvious, the corner of his thin lips pulling downward and dark brows furrowing so you confess, "I'm a nurse. Well, was, until I came here. I swear to know what I'm doing. Come with me, I've-" but whatever you were about to say is smothered by his hand, fingers digging into your soft cheeks, and uses his other to place a finger over his mouth.

Silence.

He turns his head to the side; an unsettling stillness descending upon the two of you. Suddenly, he's roughly grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bedroom, where he presses you firmly against the wall closest to the door.

He whispers harshly into your ear. "Do. not. move."

Trembling with fear, you instinctively curl up, shrinking into yourself as if trying to disappear from sight. Luckily, whoever they were left as fast as they came— merely using your home as a shortcut.

Mohawk man takes no chances, however, so you're effectively pinned under him for a considerable amount of time until he deems it completely safe.

The small grin he gives you after is apologetic. "Sorry."

You irritably soothe the ache on your cheeks. "It's alright. Can't wait to get out of this pisshole, though."

He's acquiescent after, letting you quickly clean and dress his wound. "I have no more bandages so this'll have to do." The sound of fabric being torn echoes in the bathroom. "Get seen for this injury as soon as you're able, otherwise you'll have a nasty infection on your hands."

He huffs out a small laugh. "Dinnae ye mean arm?"

Charming. "Your friend left through the back door. That's all I know."

"Aye. Thank ye." He quickly hops off the counter, jogs to the back door, and with one last glance at you, he disappears.

-

"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost says over comms.

"Outside...Gated alley."

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me ; luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: charles beckendorf wants to go out with silena beauregard more than anything. one problem: she's not allowed to date until her shrewish older sister does, so he and percy come up with a plan. (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2783

➻ warnings: swearing ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader

➻ this'll be a few chapter so this is p1!!!

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Charles Beckendorf arrived at Camp Half-Blood when he was fifteen years old. It was a wonder he’d lasted out in the mortal world so long with his significant stature, height enough to attract monsters, but Percy — his tour guide — guessed it was probably his more reserved nature which had kept him under the radar.

“Thank God it’s you showing me around,” Was one of the first things he’d said, “When you start things like this it’s usually all the kiss-asses that greet me.” With six schools under his belt, Percy knew what he meant all too well.

“Nah man, we’re chill. And if we get this done quick then you can meet my friends, we know how to have the real fun here.”

And so they embarked on their tour, Percy dutifully pointing out all the most important places around camp. First was the Dining Pavilion, where they met Grover as he chewed on some of the tin-can remains of lunch. Then came Thalia’s Tree, under which Annabeth was drawing out a map that Charles didn’t understand in the slightest but Percy explained was a strategy for capture the flag. After that they walked past the sword fighting arena, where they caught a glimpse of Luke in the middle of a fierce duel. They both passed quickly, and Charles got the distinct impression that you weren’t supposed to interrupt Luke when he was fighting.

As the two got to the lake, Percy explaining it was where most people hung out when they had the time, Charles faltered in his steps. Percy looked back to where he was frozen and followed his sightline to Silena Beauregard and rolled his eyes.

“Who is that?” He breathed.

“Don’t even bother, bro,” Percy replied. “She’s off limits. It’s a well known fact that the Beauregard sisters aren’t allowed to date — they’re only here over the summers and their dad is crazy strict about it for some reason.”

“But she’s so—”

“Self-centred? Shallow? Silena is all looks no substance, dude. You can do better.” Percy ushered him away but Charles was still daydreaming about the beautiful Aphrodite girl.

The tour was just finishing up by the Climbing Wall when they first saw you. You held the camp record for it, and so had been delegated the responsibility of teaching the younger kids. Today though you’d had to rescue a cocky bastard from getting obliterated by lava, singeing the fabric of your camp shirt all over your left shoulder, and you were not in a good mood.

Just wanting to get back to your cabin for a change of clothes and some ambrosia, you were certainly not in the state of mind to stop and chat with a new camper. So when Percy and Charles came along blocking the whole fucking path, you didn’t hesitate to yell “Move!” Pushing past them in a huff. You wouldn’t usually be so rude, but you were pretty sure your shirt was fusing into your skin which was so not what you needed. Plus, they were in the way. Beckendorf’s bicep was warm from where you’d shoulder-checked him with your injury.

“That’s your dream girl’s older sister,” Percy snorted, used to your disagreeable personality.

“That’s Silena’s sister?” Charles asked incredulously, “But she’s…”

“A shrew? Yeah. I’d watch out for her, and kiss your dreams of going out with Silena goodbye. Now c’mon, I’ll show you to your cabin.” Charles followed mindlessly, still thinking about the two Beauregard sisters.

When people thought of you, the consensus was pretty much this: Silena Beauregard’s older sister, and the most heinous bitch at Camp Half-Blood, a title you were extremely proud of. Whilst you really didn’t think you were that bad — in fact, you considered your actions quite reasonable — younger campers cowered away when you marched through camp and the older ones rolled their eyes when you spoke. Just the way you liked it. It wasn’t exactly unusual, camp had all sorts of kids living there, not everyone was going to get along, but it was pretty unexpected for you as a daughter of Aphrodite.

You didn’t get along with most of your siblings, despite all your efforts as one of the elder campers. You thought it was ridiculous that they wouldn’t participate in camp activities, regardless of the reason. What good was having all that beauty if it was wiped off the face of the earth by a monster? There were a hundred rumours flying about to explain you and your attitude, the most popular being that you were the secret lovechild of Aphrodite and Ares, which explained your affinity for fighting and permanent bitch face. You knew better. For one you shared too many of your dad’s traits not to be his child. Plus, Aphrodite had a long history of being associated with war in Ancient Greece which everyone at camp just conveniently forgot in favour of writing her children off as useless and vain. You hated it, and you refused to be who they wanted.

Even your favourite sibling was the polar opposite to you. Silena was a few years younger than you, and by all accounts was the model of a perfect Aphrodite child. Gorgeous, of course, and usually kind and patient. In your opinion, she was kind of annoying and self-absorbed, but you chose to believe she meant well so you could keep tolerating her. You didn’t know how the only two blood-related siblings in your cabin could be so different from one another, but it had been that way since you were fourteen and she was twelve.

You had made it back to your cabin, and your shoulder was all bandaged up after your shower. You were just flipping through The Bell Jar, your latest novel, when Silena came stomping into the cabin, waving a letter frantically through the air. You could assume what it was about.

“This is so unfair!” Silena whined, “Daddy doesn’t even know Ethan!” Ethan was the new boy Silena had been obsessed with recently, writing incessantly to your father in an attempt to get him to take back the no dating rule.

“What, can’t go swap spit with the vermin of the earth?” You exaggerated a pout. She sneered at you in the mirror.

“Worse. Now he’s saying I can’t date until you do, so now I’m going to die a stupid old virgin because of you!” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Have you ever considered there’s more to life than finding a boyfriend? Or, big shock I know, maybe I’m just not interested in the sweaty, uninspired pigs that are supplied here?”

“You suck!” She huffed, turning on a kitten heel and barging out of the cabin.

“You suck!” You mocked, turning back to your book. You knew Silena was really pissed at you for being so stubborn, but you hated the thought of changing your opinions over a man of all things.

Silena, in her frustration, was wandering around Camp Half-Blood to let off some steam. Charles, fresh from a kayaking lesson, spotted her across the beach and scrambled to catch up to her. Remembering what Percy told him about her not participating in many of the camp’s activities, he came up with the idea to offer his help to finish a project in the forges to get Chiron off her back. Silena seemed surprised but happy enough to agree, and Charles was ecstatic.

“She’s agreed to go to the forges with me!” He told Percy excitedly, and Percy raised an eyebrow.

“Do you even know how to weld?”

“Well, no, but I will!” As much as Percy liked the new kid, he was definitely a handful.

Charles’ first session with Silena didn’t go exactly as he’d hoped. She showed up already looking bored, and not keen to start off with a simple sword as he’d proposed. Soon he gave up with any welding, choosing instead to try and get her know better.

“If you’re not really into this we could try something else? I saw someone welding some metal flowers, you know, for like a date?” That caught her attention.

“Are you asking me on a date?” At his shy nod Silena couldn’t contain her slight laugh. “That is so cute! What’s your name again?” Charles told her quietly.

“Well, my Dad’s just changed our family rule — I can date when my sister does.”

“That’s great! So all you’ve gotta do is find someone who’ll date her!”

“One problem, Cameron-”

“Charles.”

“My sister is, like, totally antisocial?”

“Yeah, but people jump out of planes and stuff all the time! It could be, like, extreme dating!”

They both looked across the forge where you were working, fixing up your favourite sword after an Ares kid had done quite a number on it. You had on both your signature outfit and expression — long, practical jorts with your camp shirt tied in a knot and a dangerous bitch face.

“The oversized look is out, Beauregard, didn’t you read last month’s Vogue?” Ethan was hovering around you, trying his hardest to get a rise out of you in front of his friends.

“Run along, dickwad.” You refused to blow up at him, knowing it would only be used to make you look hysterical and unbalanced later. Plus, Ethan would get bored sooner or later and find someone else to taunt.

As Charles recounted this story to Percy later that night at the bonfire, all Percy could do was groan.

“Charles — Charlie — I really wanna like you, man, but this is probably the most stupid thing you could have done. I know they’re hot, but it’s not even worth getting involved with one Beauregard sister, and you’ve just gotten yourself tangled with both — and not in the way that most guys dream about.” Charles flushed at the innuendo.

“I think you’re wrong about Silena, I think she’s worth it. I just have to figure out how I can set her sister up with another guy.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Percy laughed, hitting Charles’ knee twice before turning away to talk to Annabeth. Charles spent the rest of the night trying to hatch a plan.

Early the next morning he got Percy on board, albeit very reluctantly. Percy brought Charles over to every single guy he could think of in your age range, begging them to take you out. The responses varied from a nervous shake of the head to Travis Stoll laughing in both boys’ faces.

“Why would I go looking for a kick in the balls?” He asked, still wheezing from his initial outburst.

They found themselves once again at the bonfire, both disheartened. Percy at having wasted a day all for this new guy he barely knew, and Charles that he was no closer to getting a date with Silena. Finally, somewhat eager to get this distraction over with, Percy came up with an idea.

“What about you just pay someone to go out with her?” He asked, and Charles considered the idea for a minute, it wasn’t half bad.

“I have literally no money,” He settled on finally, and Percy rolled his eyes.

“So you get someone else to do it for you,” He suggested, and Annabeth joined the conversation with suspicious interest.

“Like a backer?” She asked, at Percy’s nod she bit her lip, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, guys, it seems like it could really backfire on you. I mean, what if she finds out? I heard she once tied a camper to the lava wall just for looking at her wrong.”

“She won’t find out! I mean she only has to date so Silena can, it doesn’t have to be a long term thing. She goes on enough dates for it to qualify, then they break up while it’s still casual and I can go out with Silena!” Charles explained excitedly, but Annabeth still looked skeptical.

“Plus, if we have a backer, none of the blame will go to my man Charlie here,” Percy added helpfully, which swayed Annabeth a little.

“Okay, well be careful,” She said, leaving for the dining hall to be distanced from the plot.

Percy thought the answer to who the backer would be was pretty obvious. Whilst most of the boys at Camp Half-Blood wanted to sleep with Silena, Ethan White was both rich and desperate enough to agree to it. Plus when Percy Jackson was telling you you’d look great with a girl, you generally listened.

All that was left was to find someone to set you up with. The boys used the bonfire to scope out their options, but it wasn’t looking good. For one, you didn’t even show up to bonfires if you could help it, and it was anyone’s guess what you did instead. Rumours said blood sacrifices but Percy was almost completely sure that was a lie. Truthfully you were sitting up on the roof of the Aphrodite cabin, enjoying the peace and quiet of the camp when no one else was around.

They were about to give up, Percy trying to find the right words to let Beckendorf down easy, when they saw Luke. Luke, with his brooding eyes and his cigarette, sitting on his own at the bonfire with headphones connected to a mortal mp3 player. Luke, who had never quite been the same since he returned from his quest — rumours swirling about the horrors he’d faced that he refused to speak on.

“I think we’ve found our man.”

It was easy to convince Ethan to get on board, he was so overconfident in himself and his looks he would never suspect that Percy or Beckendorf had any ulterior motives. It was equally enjoyable to watch Ethan try and approach Luke to get the plan in motion. Percy and Beckendorf were sitting with Percy’s friends on the beach the very first time Ethan spoke to Luke. He was all macho confidence, still trying to play the tough guy. Luke looked up at him from his place sitting on a rock, barely moving his head to give him any attention. The moment of eye contact meant Ethan knew Luke had seen him speaking, and the abrupt walking away communicated his absolute lack of interest. It took a gargantuan effort from Percy not to burst out laughing then and there.

The second conversation went a bit smoother. Ethan had a metaphorical tail between his legs, temporarily giving up his ego to be the smaller person in the conversation. That got Luke’s attention, having known Ethan and his antics for years at that point. And then Ethan explained his plan. Luke couldn’t contain his laughter — a sound Camp Half-Blood was rarely graced with anymore.

“Yeah sure, Sparky,” He laughed, almost wheezing in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“Look,” Ethan stressed, “I can’t take out Silena until her sister starts dating — their Dad is super strict and has this rule—”

“Touching story, not my problem.” Luke moved to put his earbud back in when Ethan stopped him.

“Could it be your problem if I provided generous compensation?” Luke had forgotten Ethan’s mother was filthy rich. He looked him dead in the eye.

“You’re going to pay me to take out some chick? How much?” He asked, entirely disbelieving.

“Twenty bucks” They both looked down at you on the volleyball courts, spiking a ball into a girl’s stomach with so much force she keeled over on the ground. You had the decency to look mildly apologetic while the opposing team glared at you.

“Fine. Thirty.”

“Let’s see,” Luke smiled something devious. “If I’m taking her out it means leaving camp. That’s a lot of risk I’m pursuing for you, plus the costs of taking to her somewhere — the movies maybe. And you know inflation lately, let’s say seventy-five bucks.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, burnout.”

“Fifty bucks and we’ve got a deal, Fabio,” Luke countered, knowing he had the upper hand. He had nothing to lose. Reluctantly, Ethan forked out a fifty. All that was left was for Luke to get you to go out with him, how hard could that be?

[halloween-jester]

At first I was just gonna ignore this show, "I'm too old and it'll probably be bad anyways" I saw some scenes with Adult Poof, now named Peri, and it caught my interest. I watched some other stuff and now I'd say I'm interested :0

And then they dropped in Irep. I. LOVE. HIM. His design, his voice! Never cared for the babies in the old FOP, so seeing them as adults is awesome.

Apparently people don't like Irep's design though??? Pah! Clearly, he's just as much Sexy tumblr man material as Peri is ;3 So of course I drew him

I doubt this'll be the last time I draw his stupid cute cube head, I love him so much

[luvleyk]

*+:｡It's your turn to be my model ｡:+*

♡𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Bada Lee x Fem reader

♡𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you grew some kind of feelings towards her even tho you two just met for a photoshoot and you were her model. But what if she feels the same?

♡𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.9k

♡𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 (𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈), model! Bada, photographer! Reader, top Bada x bottom reader, praise kink, pet names, fingering, strap on sex, you're a sucker for her (me too).

♡𝐀/𝐍: this is my first fic and post, so please bear with me if there are some grammatical errors and stuff (english is not my first language and I'm still learning a lot AAAAA), wasn't proofread so expect that there some typos.. Also I'm open for request!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Hmm? I thought you liked this?" she asked in a low tone as she continues to thrust the strap inside you, chuckling as she watches you becoming a mess, underneath her. "You're the one who asked for this, so, why are trying to pull away, hm?" she added as she lifts your leg and pinned it against your chest, giving her access to go deeper inside you. You whined a moan as you felt her thumb rubbing a circle on your bundle of nerves, giving you a overwhelming stimulation. You're getting sensitive.

You don't even know how you two ended up like this. All you know is that, she's fucking you into oblivion to the point you're starting to see stars and your mind was only filled with her and her only.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You met Bada as your model client since she was given the opportunity to be a model on a fashion magazine and you're the assigned photographer to take photos of her. But since you're the type who's timid and shy, you're somewhat anxious since you'll be working with her and who knows what's her personality is like or something..

It's your day two of working with her. And during that day with her you've notice that she's nice, kind of intimidating (based on your perspective) but though, she's easily to interact which made you easily get comfortable around her. And which you grew some kind of attachments.

As the day passed and you're already done with your work, just need to edit her photos and give it to the management. You were preparing for yourself to leave when you heard her call your name..

"Hey, Y/N... You know.. This'll be the last time that we will meet.." She started..

"So I was thinking if we could hang out in my house? Just have a bit of dinner, here and there.. If you would like?" she added as she looked at you with a hint of hope that you would accept her offer..

You look up to her as you tilted your head to the side. 𝘊𝘶𝘵𝘦. She thought.

"You're inviting me for a dinner?" You asked as you point yourself, which you receive a quiet chuckle from her.

"Well, of course, love." she answered with a nod..

Of course, you can't say no to an offer. "Sure.. I'll just fix my stuff, real quick" you said softly as you went to a desk where your stuff was.

Once you're done, she helped you carry your bag as you both exited the studio.. You both reach her car, opening the door for you to enter. You smiled as you get inside of her car, she closed the door and walk to the other side to get into the driver seat and start the engine.

"Since it'll took us about 15 minutes to drive through my house. Why don't we have a little bit of chit chat?" She suggest, making sure the whole trip wouldn't awkward for you as her attention was focused on the road.

You nodded slowly. "Sure.. That seems fun.." You said.

She hummed, as if she's thinking on what she would ask or say.. "So.. I was wondering... How long have you been a photographer?" She asked, which made you tilt your head..

"Well.. if you're talking about my job.. Well it's been 2 years.. But if you're talking about my experience, then it's 14 years.." Her eyes slightly went wide in shock after she heard your answer..

"14 years? Wow... Well I guess you really love your passion, no?" she asked, which you nodded in return..

You two fall into silence until you two reach her place. She helps you get off from the car and guided you inside.. "Sorry in advance if my place is kinda messy.. I'm sure you're the type who's neat and stuff.." She said in a joking manner before chuckling..

You laughed softly... "Oh no... it's fine... I don't mind it tho.." You replied with a slight smile.

She hummed before walking towards the door as she grab her keys on her pocket, unlocking the door and gesturing you to come in first.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

She made you dinner, you two share stories together while eating, and laugh together. It's fun. You thought. Your admiration grew wild towards her, to the point it's scary.. You just met her, and you easily get attached to someone you barely knew. You sighed, which Bada quickly noticed.

"Hey, something's wrong?" She ask as she gently holds your hand.

Something sparked within you when she took a hold of your hand in a gentle way. You look at her, seeing her sitting in front of you with a soft and gentle smile on her face.

You slightly shake your head. "It's nothing.." You replied which you earned a frown from her.

"Hmm.. Alright. I'm not gonna force you to say it." She said quietly before letting go of your hand as she finish her meal.

You two became silent again.. It's making you anxious, for some reason.

You were done eating and was about to say something when she suddenly talk. "You know.. I just noticed, within the two days, you suddenly felt comfortable around me?" she started, causing your cheeks to burn...

"H-huh... W... What... I mean" you pauses to regain your composure back.. "I mean... I don't want to be awkward while working with you.. So... I'm trying my best.." you added quietly.

She chuckled. "That's true..." she uttered as she stood up and grab both of your empty plates, putting it on the sink. She turned around, walking towards you. "Are you... Are you gonna leave after this?" she sudden ask, making you look up to her..

"I.. well... If there's nothing else to do... Yes.." You said, though you're hoping for her to make you stay just for a bit.. "I'll have to edit your photos for the fashion magazine..." you added before chuckling awkwardly..

"Oh.." she uttered before nodding..

"I could stay for a bit if you want." You quickly said. At this point you're making yourself look so desperate, but you don't care. You just want to spend your time with her.

A smile crossed her face. "Well. Sure.. That would be lovely.." She said as you stand up from sitting on the chair.. "What do you want to do? We could watch some movies or talk?" she suggests.

You shrugged.. "I'm fine with anything, to be honest." You replied, causing her to nod.

She hold your hand as she guided you to the living room, making you sit on the couch as she stands in front of you. "I don't know what to do, since it's my first time having a guest in my house. Mostly I'm the one who gets invited into this kind of stuff. So bare with me for a bit" She said and you chuckle..

"Ah... It's fine.. Take your time" You said while nodding. She hummed as she nodded back before leaning forward so that you two have same eye level. The same feeling from earlier came back as you leaned back against the couch.

She tilts her head on the side as she reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I just noticed that you're very cute from up close." She suddenly said, causing your cheeks to burn again as you avert your gaze..

"Y.. You're being random.." You uttered before looking back at her.. "How about we watch a movie?" You suggests, trying to shake off this weird feeling inside of you.

"We could do something else, that is fun." she hummed.

"Like what?"

She hummed for a bit. Her fingers that was tucking your hair from earlier, slowly trail down on your neck, causing you to involuntarily flinched by her touch. "Oh?" she uttered as she raised her eyebrow before chuckling, continuing to explore your sensitive skin, earning a muffled noise coming from you.

You hold onto her wrist as she cup your cheeks, forcing you to look up at her. "Do you want me to stop, love?" she asked, her voice was hushed.

"C.. Continue.. Please.." you uttered. She's just mildly touching you and you're already feeling something weird between your legs.

She chuckled quietly.. "So polite.." She praised in a low tone as she plant a kiss on your forehead. "Want to continue this in my bedroom?" she asked, which she earned a quick nod from you.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

And now she's fucking you. She pulled out her strap as she plunge her long slender fingers inside you, causing you to let out a weak moan. "Mhm.. Baby, you feel good, right? Tell Bada if you feel good." She said in a low tone as she thrust her fingers deeper, inside.

"A.. F... Feels good... Please.. Faster..." you plead which she obliged.

She hovers on top of you as she devours your lips, her fingers were moving in a fast pace, causing you to moan loudly between the kiss..

The kiss became sloppy, as if she's getting drunk by your moans and the wet sound while thrusting her fingers inside of you.. She pulled slightly as she looked at you, her eyes filled with admiration, looking at your flushed, drunken face..

She pulled her fingers out, causing you to whine. But quickly moaned when she pushed the tip of her strap back in and start thrusting again, but this time a little bit deeper and rough..

"Fuck... I've been wanting to do this with you.. Fuck.." she uttered as she rest her left hand between on the side of your head as a support as her other hand went to cup your right breast. "So beautiful. Am I fucking you too good, princess?" she groaned. You nodded. At this point, you can't even utter a word anymore.. She's too good.. You feel like you're gonna faint any moment.

You can't even focus on what's happening right now, her whispers of sweet nothings became incoherent in you ears.

You gripped onto the bedsheets as you arched your back, climax starts to build up inside you.

"B... Bada..." You moaned as she hummed..

"You're close, baby?" she asked and you nodded eagerly.

She thrust in a fast pace. The sound of your moan filled the every corner of her room.

After you feel like forever you feel your orgasm hits you in a tidal wave. Trembling underneath her, she rides your orgasm with a few thrust before gently pulling out. She remove the harness and tossed it on the floor as she lay besides you, planting some kisses all over your face.

"How do you feel, love?" She asked as she wipes your sweat by her fingers..

You let out a weak moan as you move closer to her, causing her to wrap her arms around your body... "G.. Good.." You uttered and she nodded as a response.

"You know the moment I met you. I've already taken an interest towards you. But you know. I'm not really sure since we've only know each other for 2 days only..." She admits quietly..

"Me too.." you said.

"Really?" she asked in disbelief before laughing quietly and planting a kiss on your head..

"How about we take a rest for a bit? I'll clean you up later."

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part i

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel agrees to teach you how to play guitar for a college course, but you can't keep your eyes off him long enough to learn. he really likes that.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, guitar teacher!joel, no outbreak, big age gap (reader’s 22, joel’s 56), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, slight dubcon, touching, smut for later chapters, some fluff, mostly angst

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first chaptered fic! dedicated to joel's fingers! i've been playing guitar a lot more lately so...yeah 🥲 thinking this'll probably be 3 or 4 chapters? as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated! hope y'all enjoyy

Don’t stare at his fingers. Don’t stare at his fingers. He’s doing you a huge favor by teaching you to play guitar in the first place. The least you can do is pay attention and stop staring at his fingers. 

But it’s a lost cause, and you know it, because you’d have no hope of learning without staring at his fingers. 

Even so, you’re convinced he’ll somehow know that’s not the real reason you’re watching them so intently. The way they hop gracefully from fret to fret, strings biting into his well-earned calluses, producing the most beautiful chords that ring out perfectly with every strum. 

It’s a wonder any of that is even possible for him. You don’t mean to knock his talent—he obviously honed his craft through decades of fine-tuning and dedicated practice—but his fingers are just so thick.

With your clumsy, beginner’s touch, you’re constantly fumbling with the strings, unable to press down hard enough or keep your other fingers out of the way for them to vibrate the way they need to. They just sort of…fizzle.

But there’s a finesse to how he plays. It also helps that his guitar is a lot bigger than yours. It's a totally innocuous thought, but it still warms your cheeks a little. A big guitar for a big man. Broad and tall, with those thick, thick fingers—

“Hey, you still with me?” 

You’re not sure when he stopped playing, but you really hope it was right before he said something. Otherwise, he definitely knows exactly what you were thinking about, and that would be humiliating. 

Not a great start to your first guitar lesson, but how were you supposed to know your teacher was going to look like that? When your music theory professor recommended him, he conveniently left that part out, which, whatever, makes sense. But it still would’ve been helpful to know ahead of time.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Has a ton of experience and takes on very few students, so you should consider yourself lucky. That’s all of the information you were given before you stepped into his house this afternoon, and were greeted by possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. He was supposed to be your ticket to an A on your senior thesis. But you’re totally flubbing it.

“Y-yeah, sorry, just got a little distracted,” you laugh awkwardly, wishing you had said anything else but that. You couldn't be any more obvious if you tried. “Won’t happen again, promise.” 

He’s kind enough to pretend you’re not a filthy liar and taps the neck of his guitar to redirect your focus. “S’alright. We’ll just take it from the top. You remember the fingerin' for the first chord?”

You gape at him dumbly for a second. He’s kidding, right? You might as well leave now if he’s going to keep saying fingering with that devastating Southern drawl of his. 

“Um, yeah, I think so,” you sputter, lying for the second time in a row. You're struggling to recall anything from your lesson but, god, you can only remember his fingers, not their placement. With no confidence whatsoever, you press your fingertips down firmly on the three strings you think he showed you. “Here, right?” 

He quirks a brow. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me?” 

Ah, so he’s that kind of teacher. The 'learn the hard way', 'fail on your own until you succeed' type. Well, he’s about to learn that you’re not that kind of student.

“…Telling?” Your voice lilts with even less confidence. He chuckles, nodding at your finger placement.

“Let’s hear it, then,” he says expectantly, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but you’re about to find out. You strum slowly, and the sound reverberates around the room. 

Wrong. 

His smile widens just a fraction as you grimace, quickly wrapping your hand around the neck of the guitar to stop the horrible noises still playing from it. You look over at him, wincing, but he doesn’t seem frustrated. If anything, he seems patient.

“Not quite,” he shakes his head, moving his instrument out of his lap so he can shift closer to where you’re sitting further down the couch. The cushion dips with his weight, and you tip into him slightly, but he remains completely unfazed. “Lemme show you again—and pay attention this time, alright?”

You start to nod apologetically, but then he throws an arm behind you on the back of the couch, and all hope of retaining whatever he’s about to teach you goes out the window. Instead of showing you on his own guitar, he gestures for you to hold yours up, gently arranging your fingers on the frets.

His fingertips whisper against yours like he’s hesitant to touch you, softly tugging them into place before pressing down, showing you the right amount of pressure to apply. 

They feel just as warm and rough as you’d imagined, dwarfing yours by a long shot, and the realization makes your fingers accidentally twitch out of place. Your eyes dart up to gauge his reaction and lock with his, deep and brown, and very amused. 

“Doin’ alright there?” he teases, and now you know he’s on to you. You try to play it off, blaming it on your inexperience.

“Just haven't gotten used to using those muscles yet," you mumble, moving your hand away from his to flex your fingers. "Not sure I've ever had to stretch them like that before."

 "'m sure ya have. Probably just didn't realize it at the time. That kinda muscle soreness comes from prolonged repetition—repeatin' an action over 'n over," he explains in that syrupy-sweet accent, completely unaware of how his words are affecting you. "Bet ya use those fingers for a lot'a different things every day, just nothin' long or strenuous enough to leave you achin'."

You bite your lip to keep from reacting. He has to know what he's doing right now. How he sounds. This conversation is starting to veer into dangerous territory, but the weird thing about it is that he genuinely doesn't seem to realize that everything he's saying has a double meaning. To you, at least. You knew all this fingering talk was going to get you into trouble. 

"Uhh, yeah," you agree, side-stepping that line of thought to bring yourself back to the lesson, but it's getting harder to stay focused. "I guess I just thought playing would mostly be memorization, but there's a lot of physicality to it, too, huh?" 

"Yeah, s'pose that's true," he muses, looking down at the calluses on his own hand. This time you refuse to take the bait, your breathing already too shallow, heart nearly pounding out of your chest with how close he's sitting. But he’s still completely calm and collected. "Your hand hurtin' a lot right now?"

You shrug, inspecting your reddening fingertips. "Kinda, yeah."

"It's like that in the beginnin’," he says kindly. "But the more ya play, the tougher the skin gets, and ya won't feel it as much." 

He surprises you by taking your hand again, massaging the tender skin between his thumb and index fingers. God, that feels so much better already. The heat of his fingertips seeps into yours, soothing the painful indents left by the unforgiving strings, and you let out a breathy sigh of relief. 

You feel his entire body tense palpably next to you. It might be your imagination or just wishful thinking, but you swear you can feel his warmth radiating into your side, somehow even closer than before. Your brain’s starting to fizzle more than the sound of your shitty guitar playing, and the room feels a little hotter. Hazier, like a daydream.

"That feel good?" he murmurs, lips practically brushing the shell of your ear.

Definitely closer.

“Y-yeah, feels nice…really nice,” you stutter, voice lowering almost to a whisper as if you were sharing a secret. “The, um—the rest of my hand is a little sore, too. Is that normal?”

You can feel him grinning at your obvious attempt to get him to keep touching you, and he gives in easily. Surprisingly so, and it's becoming clearer that he's as into whatever's happening right now as you are. You’re not sure what happened to the unfazed man from before, but you’ll happily welcome this change in demeanor.

“Yeah, s’normal,” he trails down to your palm, engulfing your hand with his own. “Don’t worry, I'll take care of ya.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his thigh presses into yours, and the arm behind you lowers around your shoulders, his hand skimming the side of your neck. Shit, what is going on? You’re pretty sure guitar lessons don’t usually go like this, but you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. Not when he feels this good.

Everywhere his skin touches yours feels electric, sending jolts up your spine, and making you forget where you are and what you were doing in the first place. He ducks down to press his lips to your bare shoulder, and your mind goes completely blank. 

All that's left is...sensation. Something dragging roughly across your skin, then soft—a little chapped—and wet. Sharp. You're abruptly aware of him sucking a hard bruise at the crook of your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue, and you're unable to stop the whimper that escapes your lips. It's soft and inappropriate. A single, hushed syllable.

"Joel."

He lets out a pained groan that rumbles from deep within his chest, and the hand around yours tenses. That boundless patience he had earlier feels like it's about to run out, and the thought makes your blood run hot. 

God, how is he real? How is this real? You just met this man—this much, much older man—less than an hour ago, and, yet, this is probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you. He continues to mouth up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

"What else hurts? Tell me, 'n I'll make it better," he mutters humidly, urgently against your skin. 

You want to tell him where it hurts the most. That unbearable ache between your legs, the burning in your belly that you didn't even realize he was stoking. But you're so wound up, all you can manage is a frustrated sob.

"Use your words, beautiful. C'mon, lemme hear 'em," he says as if you're his instrument, meant to produce dulcet tones and resonate at his hand.

"It—fuck...it—here," you drag the hand clutching yours down, next to where the body of your guitar rests on your thigh. Where you've already soaked through the thin fabric of your pants. "Joel...need you to make it better."

The gentle vibrato of your voice, the way it shakes tumultuously around his name, and even more so when he cups your heat. His lips return to your throat to feel it, to taste it as you moan for him. And those fingers. You knew they’d feel good, and they’re so close to where you need them. Just a little bit more—but there’s still too many layers between you and his rough touch. 

“M-more…need more, just—,” you whine, and he mirrors the sound back at you raggedly.

“‘Course, beautiful. Told you I’d take care of ya, didn’t I? 

You're too far gone to even notice yourself desperately grinding into the palm of his hand, or the fingers at your cheek turning your face toward his. 

Or your guitar quickly slipping out of your lap, more and more with each swivel of your hips. It hits the carpet with a hollow clang and, suddenly, the spell is broken. Then, it all comes crashing back. 

He’s saying your name, but he sounds...different. Less breathy, less needy, and more like your patient, collected guitar teacher. Joel Miller. 56 years old, remember? Way too old for you, for your body to be reacting to him like this, and the man whose help you still desperately need to help complete your thesis.

Your eyes snap open and you realize with abject horror that you’ve been daydreaming this entire time. You can’t even imagine how long he’s been trying to get your attention while you’ve just been sitting here, fantasizing about his hands on you. 

Not even ten minutes ago, you promised you wouldn’t get distracted, but you did. Again. And so much worse this time.

By his furrowed brow and the way he won’t even look at you, you must have accidentally said something out loud, too. Something totally inappropriate that you really shouldn’t have. But then, his hand twitches and your blood turns to ice. 

That—fuck, that's not where it was before you zoned out. It was still on yours, arranging your fingers on the frets for the chord he was teaching you. He…he was asking about your hand, if it hurt, and then—

As if you’ve been burned, you quickly release his hand from where you’re clutching it between your legs—not just in your daydream, but in horrifying actuality. You’re screwed. 

Not only is he probably going to kick you out of his house and refuse to be your teacher anymore, but he’ll likely tell your professor. And he’d have every right to. There’s no way you’ll be able to get anyone else to teach you after this.

The reason you’re here, everything you’ve worked so hard for, flashes before your eyes, catching fire and turning to ash. Your love for music, your degree—in the span of a single guitar lesson, you destroyed all of it.

And what would he think? Your father, your inspiration for choosing this path. He’d be so disappointed in you, though maybe not as much as you are right now. 

All of this for what? The attractive, middle-aged guitar teacher you’ve known for less than an hour? He doesn’t even want you and, even if he did, that’s not what you came here for. Stupid, stupid. 

You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bear to look at him, to say anything at all. Instead, you lean down to retrieve your guitar from where it still lies face down on the floor, and slowly stand up. 

“I, uh…,” you croak out, fighting the urge to cry and look like even more of an idiot. You shake your head, unable to finish your sentence, and start to walk away, but then something miraculous happens.

Joel’s hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to keep you from leaving. You turn back to him, eyebrows raised in shock, dropping your gaze to where his skin is touching yours. He doesn't let go. 

“Look—,” he starts, and you wince. It’s never a good sign when someone starts a sentence like that. If all he’s trying to do is let you down easy, he shouldn’t have stopped you. He’s just shaming you even further. “—‘m not too sure what just happened here, but if you just—if ya sit back down, we can talk about it or…just keep goin’ with the lesson…”

You didn’t see that one coming. 

“You want me to stay?” you ask dubiously. “Why?”

You search his eyes for the answers to all of the things you’re not understanding, but come up with nothing. He’s sitting on the couch watching you, still holding your hand like nothing’s wrong. Acting like none of this is a big deal, as if you didn’t basically just shove his hand down your pants without his consent.

“Still got a lot to teach ya. We didn’t even get through the first line of music,” he chuckles, his voice filled with such kindness. So much more than you deserve. 

“Yeah, and that’s my fault. I—,” you pause, still trying to gather your thoughts, “—I crossed a line…made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to do this.”

He sighs, rubbing his thumb soothingly into your wrist, and the gesture makes you shiver. Somehow it’s calming, even as the gears continue to turn in your head. You still can’t seem to grasp any of this or shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with this picture. 

“Well, isn’t this supposed to be a favor for some big, important grade? Don’t ya need this to pass your class?”

He’s not wrong. Without his help, you’re basically fucked for the rest of the semester.

“Yeah, I...actually really do,” you answer hesitantly.

Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe your thesis isn’t totally lost. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even be able to focus on your lessons.

“I think we can keep this professional. Don’t you?” he implores, brows raised.

He’s right again. That’s the only way this is going to work, but it’s still a reminder that he’s not interested in you in the slightest. You’re not sure why that feels so bad.

“Totally,” you breathe out, but your expression must betray your words because he rushes to reassure you.

“It’s not that I—look, I mean…you’re a beautiful girl ‘n all, but…,” he trails off, and…what?

Beautiful. He can’t have just said that out of the blue. Beautiful, of all the words he could’ve used to describe you right then. This man is driving you crazy—and he won’t stop.

“Can’t help feelin’ like maybe I gave ya the wrong impression. I took advantage of ya,” he looks away, pained, like this was all his fault. You have no idea how he came to that conclusion, but he’s got it all wrong.

“What—no. No, if anything, I took advantage of you. You were just trying to be a good teacher,” you shake your head furiously. “Look, I did this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t pull away, now, did I?” 

His eyes meet yours again, darker than before, and you know for a fact you’re not making it up this time. The setting sun is casting shadows around his living room, across his 80s-style leather couch and carpet, illuminating every one of his handsome features. 

And, yet, his eyes are black, endless voids that threaten to consume you. Whatever power he has over you feels dangerous. You knew you couldn’t have imagined it all. 

But it's gone as quickly as it came. He clears his throat, dropping your wrist as if he finally came to his senses. Your patient, unaffected guitar teacher is back.

“I, uh, think maybe that about wraps it up for today,” he says with finality, standing up. “It's already eight, anyhow. You should head on home.”

Gently plucking the guitar from your hands, he zips it up in its case and gives it back to you. You nod, feeling grateful, but cautious...and also extremely curious. His hand finds the small of your back, leading you to the front door, and you try your best not to react as his fingers urge you forward. 

You know you’ll be thinking about them later tonight, even though you really shouldn’t. About them finishing what you started earlier, taking care of you like you still want him to. Part of you hopes he’ll be thinking about yours, too. 

His hand drops and he turns to you with a small smile, leaning on his arm against the doorframe. 

"But, uh, same time tomorrow? And maybe put in a little practice time before then—stretch out those fingers so you're ready to play."

“Sure,” you reply breathily. “Same time tomorrow.”

thanks for reading! part ii coming soon 🥰

(p.s. how are we feeling about finger sucking...okay bye)

[trueebeauty]

It's a regular afternoon at U.A., and you're in the training grounds with your boyfriend, the one and only Bakugo Katsuki. He's been working on a new move, all explosive power and razor-sharp precision. You, on the other hand, have been practicing your own quirk, pushing your limits.

Maybe you pushed a little too hard.

"Shit!" you hiss as your quirk backfires. A sharp pain lances up your arm, and you look down to see a nasty cut, blood welling up in crimson beads.

Bakugo's head snaps around at your curse. His crimson eyes widen a fraction - to anyone else, it would be imperceptible, but you know him well enough to see the flash of concern. "Oi!" he barks, stomping over. "The hell did you do?"

You wince, both at the pain and his volume. "Pushed too hard, I guess."

He scowls, but it's his worried scowl, not his angry one. Roughly gentle, he takes your arm, inspecting the cut. "Tch. Dumbass. You're supposed to go beyond your limits, not break yourself."

The cut stings, and honestly, you're feeling a bit shaken. Training accidents happen, but still...

"It's just a scratch," you say, trying for nonchalance.

Bakugo snorts. "That's not a fucking scratch, you idiot." But his touch is gentle as he takes your arm, inspecting the wound. "Recovery Girl's gonna have a field day with this."

You wince, not just from the pain but at the thought of another lecture on caution. Bakugo notices - of course he does, he notices everything about you - and his scowl deepens.

"C'mon," he grunts, tugging you up. "Let's get this cleaned up before you bleed all over the damn place."

“Recovery Girl's probably busy with the other extras. I've got a first aid kit in my room."

You nod, letting him lead you back to the dorms. His grip on your good hand is firm, grounding. This is Bakugo's way of comfort - not soft words, but solid presence.

In his room, he sits you on his bed and kneels in front of you. The first aid kit appears from a drawer, and he gets to work.

"Stay still," Bakugo grunts, rummaging through the kit. "And don't bleed on my sheets."

You snort. "Sorry, I'll try to control my involuntary bodily functions."

"Tch. Smartass." But there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth, almost a smile.

He pulls out an antiseptic wipe, tearing the packet open with his teeth. "This'll sting," he warns, his rough voice softening.

"I can handle it," you say bravely. But when the antiseptic touches your wound, you can't help but hiss. "Ow!"

"Crybaby," Bakugo mutters. But his movements slow, his touch becoming feather-light. "Thought you could handle it?"

"Shut up," you grumble, but there's no heat in it. You're too busy marveling at how gentle he's being.

His hands, so destructive in battle, are surprisingly deft as he cleans every inch of the cut. You watch him work, mesmerized by the contrast. These hands that can level buildings are now treating you like you're made of glass.

"What?" he asks, noticing your stare.

"Nothing," you murmur. "Just... you're good at this."

He shrugs, but you catch the pleased glint in his eyes. "Can't have my boyfriend bleeding out because they can't dress a damn wound."

"Your boyfriend, huh?" you tease. It's still new, this thing between you, and every time he acknowledges it, your heart skips.

Bakugo's cheeks dust pink. "Don't," he growls, but there's no bite. He's too focused on wrapping your arm in a clean bandage.

"Not too tight?" he asks, voice gruff but eyes soft.

You flex your fingers. "It's perfect. Thanks, Katsuki."

He nods, sitting back on his heels. His thumb brushes over the bandage, a touch so light you almost think you imagined it. But then he looks up at you, and the raw emotion in his crimson eyes steals your breath.

"Don't do that again," he says quietly. "Getting hurt. It's... it pisses me off."

You understand what he's not saying. In Bakugo-speak, 'it pisses me off' means 'it scares me'. You reach out with your good hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into it, just a fraction.

"I'll be more careful," you promise. "Can't have the great Katsuki Bakugo worrying about little old me, right?"

"Damn right," he mutters, but he's leaning in now, forehead resting against your knee. It's as close to vulnerable as Bakugo gets.

You card your fingers through his spiky hair, marveling at how soft it is. For a moment, the world shrinks to just this: you and Bakugo, his hands now resting gently on your thighs.

"Hey, Katsuki?" you whisper.

He grunts in response, not moving.

You hold out your newly bandaged arm. "Kiss it better?"

Bakugo freezes. He looks up at you, one ash-blond eyebrow arching high. "That's not my fucking quirk," he says, voice dry as the desert.

But you see it - the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks, the way his eyes soften just a fraction. You've got him on the ropes, and you both know it.

"Please?" you whine, pouting for extra effect. "It really hurts, Kacchan."

He glares at you, but there's no real heat in it. "You're such a damn baby," he mutters. But he's already lifting your arm, his calloused fingers achingly gentle.

Bakugo brings your arm to his lips. He presses a kiss to the bandage, feather-light. Then another, and another, trailing up your arm. His lips are warm, a bit chapped from his quirk. Each kiss feels like a tiny spark, but the good kind, the kind that lights you up inside.

"There," he grunts, cheeks now definitely red. "Happy now?"

You hum contentedly, but you're not done yet. Leaning in, you whisper, "You know... I think I've got a scar on my lips too."

Bakugo's eyes widen, then narrow. "You little shit," he breathes, "You planned this, didn't you?"

"No," you admit, grinning. "But I want it."

He knows you're playing him, but oh, does he want to be played. "You're pushing it," he growls, but he's already leaning in.

"You love it," you whisper against his lips.

He doesn't deny it. Instead, he kisses you, and it's nothing like the gentle pecks on your arm. This is pure Bakugo - fierce, passionate, a little bit explosive. His hand cradles your face, thumb brushing your cheek, while the other pulls you against him.

When you part, you're both breathless. Bakugo rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. "You're gonna be the death of me," he mutters, but there's no heat in it. Just a grudging acceptance that yes, he'd let you lead him anywhere.

You grin, nuzzling into his neck. "I love you too.”

He snorts, but his arms tighten around you. 

[wordsarelife]

—holidays

pairing: jess mariano x fem!reader

summary: you and jess go iceskating, which you quickly regret

warnings: none, but reader being bad at ice skating lol

note: here it finally is, the first fic of my little christmas calender. i think i will be posting a small masterlist for the upcoming fics later. the fics are going to be named after my favorite melancholic christmas songs. there will be sad fics, but in general the title won't have much to do with the story itself. hope you'll enjoy!!

(ps: let me know if you want to be tagged!)

"i'm absolutely not doing this" jess protests as soon as you point your finger at the ice rink that was specifically build up for the weekends christmas festival taking place in stars hollow.

"oh, yes you are" you grin.

he looks at you with that contemplating look, probably considering weather you'd be angry if he just walked off. but a single second to think gives him all the answers he'll need.

"please" he sighs, hoping for you to give in and let the request slip.

"just say you don't love me" you cross your arms, raking your chin up high with closed eyes. jess doesn't react and you slowly open your right eye to glance at him.

his eyes aren't on you. his gaze wavers over the people on the rink - families, couples, kids - and he seems to be thinking how bad this'll go on a scale of one to ten.

he can't help, but also think about your eyes lighting up and your laugh breaking through the cold air. the decision is made quickly, surprising to you, as he takes your hand and drags you into the direction of the rink.

"wait, really?" you ask, not able to hide the surprise. you had been ready to give him the cold shoulder for a while, before you had ultimately let go of the request.

but now, your eyebrows shoot in the air as you watch him pick up the skates at the little hut next to the rink.

"not a word" he mutters as he holds the pair out for you to take. "and never say i don't love you"

you giggle, as you sit down to change out of your shoes and into the skates. jess is sitting beside you, mirroring your moves as he watches you effortlessly tie the shoes.

you can practically feel the grumble that dares to escape his lips when he has to undo the shoe for a third time after leaving out two holes.

"here" you say, crouching in front of him, "let me"

jess begrudingly accepts your help and even though he doesn't say a word, you notice the little smile on his lips. he's not angry, not really.

the ice rink is not filled to the brim by the time you step on it. there's enough room to try out your skills without getting hurt or hurting someone else in the progress.

you almost slip, jess' quick reaction being the only thing that keeps you on your feet and you send a grateful smile in his direction, as you grip onto the side of the rink, waiting for him to follow you onto the ice.

jess sighs and you can hear a nervous breath escape his lips, before he ultimately follows you. his feet make contact with the ice and to your surprise nothing happens. he standing there, like he's standing on normal ground. no hint of discomfort or a threatening fall.

"what?" you mutter. "how can you—?" you can't even find the words to express what you're thinking.

jess shrugs and your reaction guides him back into his usual cockiness that he just forgot for a short while. "well, seems like i'm a natural"

"you're not a natural" you huff and try to cross your arms, but quickly abort the mission when you dare to lose balance. "you've never even done this before"

"looks like this is my destiny" he clearly enjoys the way his newfound talent seems to be riling you up.

"destiny my ass" you roll your eyes, showing him a sugarcoated smile, "i bet luke's gonna be so proud of his little ice princess"

"don't you dare" jess shakes his head, the smirk leaving his face quicker than you would've thought.

"well, help me then" you gesture your arm in his direction and he takes your hand, slowly, but effortlessly guiding you more into the middle of the rink.

it takes a whole lot of effort for your to keep upright, while jess doesn't seem bothered by the slippy ground beneath him. it's almost scary how balance doesn't seem to be a thing he has to actively work for, not even when you slip and grab onto him for dear life.

“careful” jess mutters, steadying you with both hands. his grip is firm but gentle, and you can’t help but notice the smug grin creeping back onto his face. “you’re going to take us both down if you keep flailing like that.”

“i am not flailing!” you protest, clutching his arm tighter when your foot slides again. “you’re just too stubborn to admit this is pure luck.”

“luck? this is skill, sweetheart” jess twirls you—more of a clumsy pivot, but to him, it’s clearly a full-on figure skating move. he gives you a smirk so self-assured you almost forget how absurd he looks.

jess steadies you once again, before he carefully lets go of you and skates effortlessly forward until he comes to a halt a few steps away from you. "come on" he encourages, "you can do it!"

you roll your eyes, ultimately hating ever even suggesting this whole thing and absolutely ticked off by the way jess is clearly enjoying your discomfort. it's his moment for revenge.

you test the waters, slowly moving forward, but too unsure to really move the rest of your body, so it looks quite weird as you slip over the ice.

jess moves his open arms back and forth. "come little duckling," he almost giggles, "have you never learned how to use your feet?"

"funny" you smile sarcastically, but your confidence is just as fast gone as it had come, when you make a wrong move and lose balance. "ahh!" you cry, closing your eyes.

but before you can imagine yourself hitting the ground in a terrible and embarassing fall, two strong arms grab you, pulling you upwards and against jess' chest.

"didn't think i would let you fall, did you?" his voice is a lot less teasing and gets a bit lost in your hair, as you press your head against him and hold onto him like a lifeline.

"not if you value your life" you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled but sharp enough to make him chuckle.

jess leans back just enough to look down at you, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips, "oh, really? and what’s the punishment for letting you hit the ice? public humiliation? cold shoulder for a week?"

you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a playful glare. "try immediate breakup. single by christmas."

"well that wouldn't be fun now, would it, birdie?" jess smiles. "you would never break up with me, because i'd make it up to you before you'd get the chance"

"sure" you roll your eyes, but grin. "now you're mr. darcy all of a sudden, huh?"

"god, no" jess shakes his head. "more like a jack dawson."

you blink, a little confused. "jack dawson? from titanic?"

"yeah" he says, the smirk on his face growing. "except without the sinking ship and the whole death thing. but i would definitely let you lay on the door"

it sounds stupid and a bit cringe, but you have to smile nonetheless. "i hope you know i would not let you freeze to death" you assure. "even if we both go down with the door"

jess laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"but you can make it up to me right now, without the whole emergency situation"

"yeah?" jess wonders.

"yeah" you nod, "just get me off this thing, please" you almost beg and jess has to smirk again.

"so i guess ice skating goes off the list of things to do for the foreseeable future?" he slings an arm around your waist, slowly guiding you both back to the entry of the rink.

"god, no, it's canceled forever"

jess presses a hand to his chest, feigning betrayal, "but i was born for this!"

you send him a look that clearly says to shut up.

you're just a step away from walking off the rink when your exit gets interrupted by kirk, who enters the ice rink, arms wide, wearing what can only be described as a flawless pair of bright yellow skates that have a questionable amount of glitter on them. you wouldn't call the dark lilac bodysuit he's wearing matching, but his confidence somehow makes it work.

"hey guys!" kirk smiles.

"kirk?" your head follows his movement along the side of the rink. "didn't taylor forbid you from ice skating after that bad injury last year?"

kirk freezes, his arms falling to his sides dramatically as he glares at you. "oh, please" he scoffs, clearly offended. "taylor is not the boss of me. i’m a grown man, okay? i make my own choices."

he gives a little nod as if to emphasize his independence, then promptly tries to glide confidently across the ice… and immediately loses his balance, arms flailing as he crashes into the wall with a loud thud.

"right" jess says, a saracstic expression on his face as he watches kirk try to regain his balance. "a grown man, making his own choices, like a majestic, glitter-covered disaster."

kirk acts like he didn't hear your boyfriend. "well, taylor said i couldn't skate for at least ten months and ten months are over! ha!"

"yeah, you've really shown him" jess rolls his eyes.

jess helps you off the ice, while your eyes stay on kirk, unmoving. "i'm not sure this is such a good idea, kirk. you know, maybe taylor was right—"

kirk completely ignores your worry. "and now my signature move, the glitter glide"

“oh no” you whisper, gripping jess’s arm tighter.

“oh yes” jess deadpans, watching as kirk dramatically flares his arms. he makes a quick tumble forward, surprisingly holding his balance, before he tries a spin. but instead of completing the turn, he only goes halfway, his body jolting and sending him skidding backward at an alarming speed.

"jess!" you call, noticing in which direction kirk is headed.

jess rolls his eyes, but steps into the open side of the entry, effortlessly catching kirk as he glides through the exit.

"enough action for today?" you ask a panic-stricken kirk, who’s now clinging to jess for stability like a shipwrecked sailor.

kirk nods, slowly freeing himself from jess' arms. "will you buy me a snow cone?"

"of course" you nod with a smile.