#and by hanging out . lets just say. kissing

[woso-dreamzzz]

Christmas II

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first holiday season

You sniffle a little bit in your pram.

You're fast asleep amongst your blankets but your little nose is red from the cold, as are your little cheeks.

"Are you sure you don't want to take her inside?" Popp asks as Pernille gently rocks the pram back and forth to settle you again. "It's warm there."

"She'll be fine out here," Pernille assures her," The cold air will be good for her lungs. We've got a call with Magda later and I want her to be awake for it."

"Magda can't come for Christmas?"

"She's still trying to sort out a flight but most of them are already booked up. She's going to try but..." Pernille sighs. "I don't know. It might just be me and the princesse. We'll survive."

"Well, you will," Popp laughs," But I'm not sure how long this one will in the cold."

Pernille rolls her eyes. "I told you! The cold is good for babies to nap in! She'll be fine!"

You sniffle a little in your sleep again, wiggling around in your pram and Pernille pops a dummy into your mouth. The effect is instant as you suckle it for comfort and drift back off to sleep again.

When you wake up, it's only because your dummy is being replaced with a bottle and people are standing over you and cooing.

Lots of your Momma's friends are watching you but it's the stern face of Caro that you focus on, legs kicking out happily as you feed from your bottle and reach out for Caro with your little grabby hands

"Caro's the favourite," Ewa teases, reaching up to ruffle her hair.

"Frido will be jealous," Pernille laughs as she adjusts your bottle so you're not drinking quite so quickly," She's convinced that she's the favourite."

Caro rolls her eyes dismissively. "Yeah, well Frido isn't exactly here, is she?"

Pernille's lips curl upwards into a smirk. "You've warmed up to my baby then? Because a few months ago, you would never say such a thing."

Your little hand curls around one of the fingers Caro offers you, a tight grip on the appendage that she wouldn't even get out if she tried.

"My heart isn't made of stone, Pernille," She says with an eye roll," Besides...y/n's...She's kind of cute when she's feeding."

"Do you want to feed her?"

"Let's not go that far. Baby steps."

You end taking yet another nap during the gym session and Pernille feels slightly vindicated when it's clear that this nap hasn't been nearly as nice as the nap you took in the cold air earlier.

The two naps you take at training gives you more than enough energy in the car to attempt to take both your shoes and socks off by the time that Pernille pulls up to the apartment.

In that time, you've managed both shoes, one sock while the other one hangs off half your foot.

"Good try, princesse," Pernille laughs, stroking a finger down your nose so you go adorably cross-eyed trying to follow it," But you haven't beat me yet. Let's get all of this back on, shall we?"

You make little huffing noises as Pernille puts your socks and shoes back on you, tightening them up so you won't be able to kick them off on the way upstairs to the apartment, as was your habit.

Pernille nearly drops her keys in shock at the sound of music playing through the front door, frozen in horror at the unexpected sound. Her grip on you tightens for a moment before Magda's horribly off tune singing reaches her ears and she's all but breaking the door down to get inside.

"You're here?!"

Magda's slumped over the kitchen table with a piping bag that she's trying to force icing out of to act as cement for a crumbling gingerbread house.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I...The flights? The airport? You said-"

"But it's a good surprise, yeah?" Magda teases, gently taking you from Pernille's arms and kissing her girlfriend on the lips," Besides, I couldn't miss the little one's first Christmas. I've got such a nice Chelsea kit to put her into! It's got my name on the back, you know."

Pernille laughs, somewhere between delight and shock.

"Ow!" Magda yelps as the back of a hand connects with her shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"I thought someone had broken in!" Pernille scolds before bursting into laughter. "Next time, send a text!"

"And ruin my surprise? Never!" Magda's voice goes high pitched as she lifts you up to blow a raspberry on your belly. "You hear that Princesse? I'm never going to ruin a surprise!"

Your peels of laughter echoe over the music playing, feet kicking happily as Magda does it again.

"Let's get these little booties off," Magda coos at you," And this silly little snow suit. We've got a Chelsea kit to put you in!"

"It's not Christmas just yet," Pernille reminds her before she can sweep you away," We don't do early presents in this house."

"Bah!" Magda waves a dismissive hand. "What's a few days early? She won't understand."

"That's not the point," Pernille says with a laugh," But, by all means, if you think you can get her in that kit without crying, go right ahead. I'm going to shower."

"Yeah, yeah...Wait, what do you mean?!"

Getting you into that Chelsea kit, like Pernille predicted, didn't exactly work. You started crying the moment it was brought near you and you didn't stop until Magda banished it from your sight.

Instead, you're put into a fuzzy reindeer onesie that matches with Magda's own and the one that she'd left for Pernille on the bed.

"Is that my little reindeer making that noise?" Pernille coos as she comes back into the room to the sound of your little giggles as Magda tickles your tummy with your swan and moose toy.

"It is!" Magda says proudly," Your little reindeer also decided we're going to watch some Christmas movies tonight."

"Oh she did, did she?"

"She did," Magda insists, flipping up your onesie's hood to show off the little antlers on it," She also requests that we order in dinner rather than cooking."

Pernille laughs. "I'll grab the menus."

[alg3a]

auspicious (pt. 2)

jayce x f!reader x viktor / jayvik x reader

3k words, MDNI

description: After confronting the boys and teasing them for long enough, you finally get what you want.

warnings: nsfw content, full complete total smut, MMF threesome, f!receiving oral, double penetration, all characters are sort of switches i suppose, double creampies! hooray!

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE!!! it was entirely unexpected, but i loved hearing that all of you enjoyed it. it was my first ever tumblr fic, but there will be plenty more and my request box is VERY open.

Something in their eyes turns dark when you utter those words. Not utter, exactly, they were more of a proclamation. Maybe it was your confidence that threw them off so intensely, but how could you not be confident in a dress like that, after two glasses of wine, and knowing that the two most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on have been wanting you for months?

It made all the late nights and restless mornings worth it to be sprawled out on their cozy lab couch wearing practically just a strip of fabric, watching them eye you like dogs.

“What is it with you two? Do I need to write you a formal invitation?”

Surprisingly, Viktor moves first. When he gets to the couch he drops his cane as if it was a crumb off his coffeecake. Then Jayce follows, filling the spot behind you as you face Viktor on the other end of the couch. Jayce’s calloused hands wrap around your waist, feeling every inch of the delicate skin exposed by your low hanging dress. Viktor’s delicate hands cup your jaw.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” Viktor says, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard before.

“Hey–” Jayce squeezes your hips firmly and pulls you back into his chest. His fingers trace the long slit up the side of your leg and brush the fabric to the side, exposing your thighs. “How long we have been waiting for this.”

“Did you ever talk about me–about this–with each other?” You have a million dirty questions to ask them now that you have them at your disposal, and this seems like a good place to start.

“It’s hard not to,” Jayce says. “Every time you would come into the lab in that little skirt…”

“Things as small as lingering touches when passing tools…” Viktor added, his mouth dipping low to kiss your exposed collarbone.

“Anytime you did anything vaguely exciting… let’s just say the thought of sharing you is very familiar to us.” Jayce’s low, rough voice mutters against your neck. He punctuates his sentence with a nip at the soft skin as Viktor pulls away from your clavicle.

“Would you like that?” Viktor asks, his fingers delicately wrapping a strand of your hair around his long, slim finger. “For Jayce and I to share you?”

And suddenly they’ve monopolized this interaction. So much for all that confidence–thrown out the window as soon as they show a sliver of dominance.

“Speak up,” Jayce says, grasping your chin firmly and lifting it so that your face is flush with Viktor’s.

“Yes,” you finally utter. “I’d like that very very much.”

“Good,” Viktor says, his accent thicker and his voice raspy.

His thumb traces along your jaw until his hand seats itself on the back of your neck. His fingers slide into your hair. You’d never realized how big his hands were until then, as one wrapped around the back of your head, tugging softly at your hair as Jayce rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling gently downward to part your pretty lips. They really were fantastic partners, aiding each other in research. And there you were, their perfect little assistant, providing them with something to study.

You don’t realize how heavily your heart is thudding against your ribs until Viktor’s lips are exploring yours and your heart is the loudest thing in the room, second only to your little whimper as you realize Jayce is doing some exploring of his own. His calloused fingers brush your bare thigh beneath the slit of your dress and dip between your legs as his chest presses against your back. With the hand that once rested on your chin, he pulls the apex of the slit higher, so that your lacy black panties are exposed to the cold air of the lab.

“Fuck,” Jayce mutters at the sight of them. You feel as his hardening cock twitches against your back, eliciting a moan from your mouth that vibrates against Viktor’s lips.

You whine as he pulls away from the kiss to take a look at what Jayce has discovered.

“Don’t everyone look at once,” you joke, but your breathlessness and heaving chest don’t exactly contribute to the punchline.

Viktor smiles for a moment, but his eyes drift to your shoulder. More specifically, the fallen strap of the dress which leaves your shoulder exposed.

“You’ve been in this dress all night,” Viktor says, smiling as he looks at Jayce over your shoulder. “I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable…”

“Do you often imagine how uncomfortable my clothes are, Viktor?” You ask, returning his smirk as Jayce slips the remaining strap off of your other shoulder.

“All the time,” he says, taking the next step off of Jayce’s hands and sliding the bodice off your dress downward, then letting Viktor return to pushing down the remnants of the dress so that it pools around your ankles.

“And much more, it would seem…or sound, rather.” Jayce laughs in a low tone, the vibrations of his chest against the bare skin of your back causing your stomach to flutter. “Loudest housemate ever.”

“Oh really?” You ask, mouth agape as Viktor slides off the couch with a smirk on his face, bringing your legs with him. He pivots you so that you’re sitting with your back against the cushions now, and he’s kneeling between your parted legs. Only your cute little panties separate his face from your best kept secret.

“Hearsay,” Viktor rolls his eyes as he kisses up your thigh. “And from the man who doesn’t even close his door when he thinks of you…”

“I close it. The walls are just…thin.” Jayce replies, placing his hand on your chin once more to turn your face to his. “And I can’t help how much noise I make.” His voice lowers and his eyes flutter shut, preparing for his turn with your lips.

Jayce is a much rougher kisser than Viktor. Handsier, too. His hand slides up your waist, grazing your chest, before finally landing on the expanse of your tilted back neck. If he choked you to death right now, you could die happy. But he won’t. He just squeezes gently as his tongue explores your mouth, his grip a reminder that he’s been wanting you for three long months. You can imagine how it must have felt for both of the boys to have you within arms reach, pushed away only by their own semblances of professionality. Actually–you can taste it, too. And you can feel it as two fingers press against your clothed cunt and you let a moan echo into Jayce’s persistent mouth.

Viktor lifts a leg onto his shoulder, and you feel two of his calloused fingertips pulling aside the lace of your panties. With only the tip of Viktor’s tongue, you’re a whining mess against Jayce’s. Jayce pulls away from you with a condescending laugh, wanting to catch a glimpse of Viktor’s meal.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “I never thought my lab partner and I would have our tongues on the same girl at the same time.”

“Don’t lie,” Viktor looks up, a grin on his glistening lips. “I’ve heard my name through those thin walls, too.”

“Shut up,” Jayce groans, and guides Viktor’s head back to your cunt. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to utter, miraculously. You’d heard Jayce tease Viktor time after time about his inexperience with women. You’d be surprised that Viktor was this good at eating you out if you weren’t familiar with what a meticulous learner Viktor was. A true perfectionist.

As Viktor sucks on your clit, Jayce lowers his head and sucks marks onto your neck, one hand still on Viktor’s head, feeding you to him.

“Please…” you whimper, not sure exactly what you’re even asking for until you feel your impending release.

Viktor laughs against your core. “Please what, my love?”

“Please, I’m gonna… mmph! I–” The leg that rests on Viktor’s back bends so that he’s pulled closer.

“Don’t stop, Vik, she’s close.” Jayce’s grip on your jaw tightens and he pulls you ever so slightly downward to watch Viktor. “Is that right, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You nod emphatically, opening your lips but fuck it’s so incredibly difficult for you to form words when there isn’t an adjective on the planet that can describe how he’s making you feel. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, please, please don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jayce says, his grip loosening as he goes in to kiss you again while your climax hits you like a tidal wave. Jayce feels the impact of it against his mouth in the form of your own, needy, whimpering moans.

Your legs begin to shake, but Viktor’s hands wrap around your thighs, holding you still as he shows no signs of stopping. He’s going to grant your begging wishes and ride this out with you, his tongue dancing along your clit, his fingers spreading you wide so it’s certain he won’t miss a spot.

Once you’ve settled, Viktor pulls away, wiping the arousal from his lips with the back of his hand. You’ve seen him exhausted, aching, and messy, but you’ve never seen him with such a powerful glint of desperation in his eyes.

“Did that feel good, sweetheart?” Jayce asks, his fingers combing through your hair.

Viktor seats himself on the couch again, drawn to your collarbone again, this time using his fingers to navigate the delicate clavicle.

You nod, but it takes every ounce of effort you have to lift your head up repeatedly.

“We’re not done with you just yet,” Jayce says, getting up off of the couch, “if that’s alright with you.”

The request is almost rhetorical. Of course it’s alright with you. He knows that. If the wanton, needy little noises you were still making in agreement were any sign of the pleasure you derived from this arrangement, you could go on until morning.

“Viktor, take your pants off,” Jayce demands, standing over the two of you.

“Who decided you’d be calling the shots for tonight?” Viktor asked, breathlessly, raising one eyebrow.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll gladly take your pla–”

Viktor rushed to take his pants off. You helped him with the belt buckle and in sliding them down his legs. As you do, Jayce fully removes your panties. It doesn’t make much of a difference, now that the two men have seen every inch of you.

As Viktor’s pants come off, you see the impressive imprint of his cock underneath his boxers.

“Can I?” You ask gently, lowering your hand to hover over his cock.

“We’re past that,” Viktor says, grinning as he takes your hand and guides it to his length. You dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pull them downward so that they pool at his thighs.

Wow.

You’d always sort of assumed that since Viktor was so skinny that he couldn’t be hiding much. How wrong you were. Your lips part slightly, already salivating for him. You begin to stroke his cock, ready for him to push your head onto his shaft until you can’t breathe, but you hear a tongue clicking behind you.

“No need for that,” Jayce says. “I think we’ll save that treat for the workday. For now…”

Jayce’s strong hands find their grip on your waist on your right leg, pulling you to straddle Viktor’s lap.

“I don’t think either of us can wait any longer for this,” you look back at Jayce as he speaks, watching as he unbuckles his own belt and shed his pants along with his dress shirt.

Now this one, you expected. With the amount of female “advisors” you’ve seen watching Jayce in the forge, there’s no way he wasn’t packing.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Viktor says, his hands falling at either side of your waist and lining you up with the wet tip of his cock, already ruined with precum.

“I should start preparing you back here…” Jayce says as his large hands find purchase on the round of your ass.

“Are you ready, my love?” Viktor asks with a kiss to your wrist as he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, swiping it a few times to ensure you’re wet enough for his entry. You’re beyond wet enough. “It would seem you are…” He laughs as he pushes your hips down on him.

Even though you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Viktor’s cock since you took it out, the size still surprised you as he pressed into your wet cunt.

“Fuck…” Viktor groaned as his neck fell back against the couch cushions. “You feel…even better than I imagined.”

You can’t even form a sentence to reply. The stretch is so intense you’ve forgotten every word in the English language. You can’t even move, paralyzed on his length. Luckily, Viktor solves that problem for you, thrusting up into you suddenly, so that all you can do is let out a strained squeal. Your hands grip his shoulders but you can’t even worry about how your nails might be hurting him, although if his grin is any consolation, he might even be enjoying the pain.

Jayce trails a line of kisses down your spine and when you look back, he’s kneeling on the ground, spitting on two fingers. You barely have time to process what that might mean before those two fingers plunge into your unfilled hole.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, the first word that you can remember in these trying times. The pain lasts only a second before the feeling sends flutters into your stomach, and elsewhere. With renewed vigor, you begin to let yourself bounce on Viktor’s cock, eliciting a lovely little whine from him.

“Tell me how he feels, baby,” Jayce says, removing his two fingers.

“So…so good.”

“I know you can be more descriptive than that,” Jayce laughs as he gets up to stand, wiping some spit onto his plump tip and stroking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long…” you say, the truest sentence in your head the first full one you can form. “So long… it’s so long…” Okay, back to putting the “senseless” in “fucked senseless.”

The boys laugh, but Viktor’s is a strained, breathless laugh.

“Please Jayce…” you beg, looking back at him over your arched back. “I want both of you…”

“Whatever you say,” Jayce says with a crooked grin as he wraps his hands around your waist, just above Viktor’s, who finds it in him to stop you from bouncing to allow Jayce his entry.

With a full, unexpected thrust, Jayce is completely in you. The stretch burns like Hell at first, but God you’ve never felt so full before.

Jayce lets out a desperate groan, not moving for a few more seconds. When Viktor thrusts into you, Jayce reacts with a moan.

“Fuck, I can…I can feel your cock, Vik,” Jayce says, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Lucky you,” Viktor laughs as he continues to lift his hips to meet your cervix.

With a dismissive scoff, Jayce finally finds the will to thrust again, even if it just results in more wanton, wasted little moans from his mouth: noises you didn’t even think he could make.

With both of them inside you at once, thrusts alternating and hitting spots within you that make you scream their names, it won’t be long until your second orgasm of the night.

Jayce’s hand reaches for your hair, taking a cluster of it and pulling you so that your back arches and your shoulders are flush with his. He cheeks your cheek with a contrasting delicateness and whispers in your ear, “Such a good girl for us. Isn’t she the best, Vik?”

“Better than our hands, absolutely,” Viktor jokes as his chest heaves and his forehead contorts. He’s close, you can tell.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jayce says, releasing your hair and focusing all of his efforts onto your tight little hole, stretching you impossibly wide.

“I-I don’t think I can take much more,” Viktor utters.

“Me neither,” you whimper, pressing your head into the nook between Viktor’s head and shoulder. “Oh fuck…”

“Cum for us, baby,” Jayce says, squeezing your ass cheeks as his last few thrusts are used up. It’s not long before you feel his cock twitching, sending spurts of hot cum into your bottom. “Gods! Fuck, baby!”

The sight of the two of you losing your composure above Viktor is enough to send him over, and as you fall onto the full length of his cock after riding out your own orgasm, he pumps you full of his seed as well, whimpering like a wounded puppy as he ruts into you helplessly one final time. You’re all a pile of spent, sweaty, fucked out messes.

Jayce reluctantly pulls out of you, leaving a splatter of cum falling from your hole onto Viktor’s lap.

“Sorry,” he laughs as he collides with the couch beside Viktor.

You try to pull off Viktor's cock to provide him some relaxation, but he holds you still. “Please, don’t…don’t move yet. I want this to last as long as possible.”

“Feeling sentimental, Vik?” Jayce teases, running a hand through his lab partner’s sweaty hair.

“Feeling…like I’d like to memorize this feeling before I go to bed tonight.”

You laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose before resting your head on Jayce’s neighboring shoulder. “I should’ve put ‘handling two cocks’ on my resume. Maybe then you two would have actually read it.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to list us as references on future resumes,” Jayce laughs, rubbing your hand softly as the three of you come down from your shared highs. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight. To the gala, I mean.”

You and Viktor both laugh.

“Next time, you won’t have to deal with crude men asking you to dance,” Viktor says as he kisses the top of your head. “You’ll be busy at our side the whole night.”

“I’m never going to move past the pretty little lab assistant allegations, am I?” You smiled into Jayce’s sturdy, shuddering shoulder.

“Maybe not,” Viktor said. “But why should you? You are our beautiful little lab assistant.”

@jeromeslilhoe @justaproudslytherpuff @onyxistired @sseleniaa @clearlycaffeinated-blog @darknessbyme @shoyofroyoyoyo

(pretty much just tagged everyone that commented asking for part two)

[halfwayhearted]

Sore Eyes — Paige Bueckers.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finally acquiring a jersey with your girlfriend’s name on it, you want nothing more than to flaunt it to her.

Word Count: 600+

Disclaimer/s — Hi, this is gay… FLUFF, FLUFF, AND FLUFF!

A/N: Mannnn. Nobody say a WOOOOORD. FUCK 😭😭😭😭

It first started when you received the box in the mail. Already knowing what was inside, a smile graced your lips while you brought it up to your apartment, the box tucked under your forearm.

You spotted the blonde on the couch, scrolling through her phone, fingers pressed to her mouth as she was deeply engrossed in a video playing.

That’s when you exclaimed. “Paige! Paige, look!”

At the sound of your voice, Paige lifts her head immediately, setting her phone aside and rising to her feet. Her brows knit together when she spots the package. “Hi, I’m looking. What’d you get?”

“You’ll see. Come here, we’ll open it together.”

Already intrigued, she makes her way toward you in the kitchen, her gaze never leaving yours even as you move to sit down. She takes the seat in front of you, ensuring just a smidge of contact.

Setting the box down, you grab a pair of scissors and slide it through the cracks, pulling the cardboard open. That's when both of you spot the bag, and your smile widens. “You got a shirt?”

"Not just a shirt,” you drawl, slipping the bag out and reaching for it. “I got a jersey. Your jersey.”

Her eyebrows raise at that. “You got my jersey?”

“I got your jersey!” You echo excitedly, eyes focused on tenderly taking it out of its packaging.

“You do know I could’ve given you one for free.”

That’s when you look up at her. “Paige—babe, you’re ruining the romantic part of the moment.”

She offers a laugh, placing her hands on the back of your knees and pulling you closer. “Sorry. I’m excited to see you wear it—you’ll look good in it.”

Fighting the blush that threatens to spread across your cheeks, you carefully lay the jersey flat on the table. “So, you have a game tomorrow, right?”

“I do. Did you change your mind? Are you going?” Paige questions, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as her head tilts. You hadn’t been able to attend any of her recent games in person, though you never failed to watch them on television. She’d never catch you missing any of her games.

That meant more to her than you’d ever realize.

Your expression softens and you nod. “If that’s—”

“Are you joking? If that’s what I want? Of course that’s what I want. I’ll save you a seat in the front.”

“Beautiful! Beautiful! I’ll so be there.” You paused, swiftly whipping out a permanent marker. “Can I have your autograph now or what? Let me know.”

Paige narrows her eyes, the smile on her face only broadening as she lets out a quiet huff, teasingly snatching the marker from your hand. Her eyes remain fixed on you; she leans over, then they drift down to the jersey and she signs her name.

“This could actually sell for hundreds, I think.”

Uttering your name, she moves to flick your arm. “Shut up—come on, let’s go to bed. ‘M tired.”

That’s when you stand, holding out a hand which she gratefully takes and uses to stand up herself. Using her free hand to grab your jersey, the roughness of her actions makes you frown. “Hello, Paige, what the hell? Be careful with that. That was over, like, ninety bucks if you even care.”

She nods slowly, trying (and failing) to hold in her chuckle. “I’m terribly sorry.” And with that, your girlfriend delicately hangs it over her wrist, looks over at you for approval, and when you give her just that, she places a loving kiss on your temple.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @lechrts + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[after-witch]

Points of No Return [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Points of No Return [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You run into someone from your old life and it shakes you into making a decision you might regret. Companion piece to Bait, Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome; mentions of physical and mental abuse, mentions of pregnancy

The town is hustling and bustling. It looks a little different every time you visit. New banners, new shops, an endless sea of revolving faces that you barely remember once you’re back home.

Here, in the outdoor market, there is a sense of thrumming aliveness that keeps your thoughts dancing from one step to the next. Should you go to this stall, or that one? Stop for a bite to eat? Check out new wares? A dress for yourself, bracelets for the girls, a book for him–or not? There’s too much. Too many people, too many choices. It makes it hard to concentrate. 

But then a squeeze to one your hands--Nanako and Mimiko on either side of you, the three of you making quite the trio on a trip--brings you back the ground.

“We’ll go look for our gifts,” the girls say, smiling. “You should look for something new to wear to the party.”

You smile and wave them off and turn towards the nearest stalls with fabrics and kimonos hanging up for sale. The outfit should be elegant, but understated. That’s what the girls told you, which means that’s probably what Geto told them.

An outfit appropriate for his birthday party.  

You’ll find something here, that’s certain. With this many stalls, and the amount of money allotted for the trip. 

The city was shocking, the first time you were allowed to visit again. You didn’t stay long–a panic attack took care of that. It was too much in a horribly overwhelming way, and you’d buried yourself against his chest and asked to leave. 

Of course, Geto had been with you then. It took a year for the girls to convince him to let you come only with them–a girls’ trip. And here, now, years down the line, you didn’t even need to beg and plead. It was a matter of fact: the girls were taking you shopping, and you’d go home to Geto, and that was that.

Sure, it’s still overwhelming; but not in a way that leaves you breathless. It does make you long to go home, to sweep into Geto’s private quarters, to relax in that space which has finally become warm and inviting to you. A sanctuary, away from his followers, away from any sense of the greater world out there.

It would be nice, to go home later today. To be with him. To have him hold you and kiss you, to simply sit quietly at his feet while he reads. He was kinder, now. In his own way. Long gone are the days of punishments, of scoldings, of that awful bitterness that kept you from truly feeling alive. 

And–just when did that happen? That sense of normalcy–happiness, even?--with him. With your life.

Your fingers fumble with the fabric you’re holding and there’s a few awful moments where the world wants to spin, but simply stands stationary instead and makes you feel its terrible crushing weight. You want to take it back, those thoughts; want to simply go about your day like everything was normal, and fine, and–

Someone calls your name. Someone close.

It’s not the girls. It’s a man. A man’s voice, but who, and why, and how long has it been since anyone has said your name that hasn’t been Geto or the twins or one of his followers? 

Your name, again. Spoken softer, but breathier. Like he’s shocked. Surprised. But pleased? 

You turn slowly, your brain whirring into action, putting forgotten puzzle pieces back together as it pulls from deep within the foggy recesses of your memories.

The voice. The mole on his cheek, the curve of his jaw. The color of his eyes. It’s yanked from deep within your mind, sticky taffy that barely wants to come up–but it does and he does and you know this man.

“Kenji?”

It tastes sour, this man’s name on your lips–a name that isn’t, for the first time in years, his.

The muted shock within you is like wet sand, being scooped and patted firm by a small hand. 

He says your name again, and takes your hand in his own–your heart begins to beat more rapidly, knowing that this is wrong, that Geto will know, somehow, that another man’s touch has been upon you.

He says more things. Things that barely register. That your family has missed you. Your friends have missed you. He’s missed you. 

It shouldn’t be surprising. He was–after all–your boyfriend. Was. Had been. Once upon a time, when the world was different. 

“What happened to you?” He asks, and you don’t answer. You can’t. Not fully.

“I…” How do you tell him, exactly? Where do you even start? And where would you end? By telling him that gosh, you were just thinking about how you’d like to get back home to the man who kidnapped you years ago. The man who’s held you hostage and hurt you, but the man who–who loves you, too? Who saved you, who is kind when he can be.

“Your parents are going to be so happy,” Kenji says, quietly, filling your silence. They hadn’t been on your mind in some time, and isn’t that awful of you? But it was too hard to think about them. It hurt too much. So you put them away, like old things in a drawer, to be avoided like a painful memory. 

But… they had been hurt, of course, by your disappearance. They missed you. Did others miss you? And had you been missing them, all along? Only for that pain to be glossed over to protect yourself. A selfish sort of trickery. 

Pangs in your heart begin to puncture that heavy shock. Your mother. Your father. Your best friend. Your dog. Neighbors, the friendly woman at the grocery store who always stuck a pack of gum in your bag before you left. And–Kenji. Kenji, too. 

Tears prick at your eyes and you know they’re threatening to spill. Just when had you forgotten all of them? Set them all in that dusty drawer, to avoid the pain, to indulge in the comfort of increasingly familiar days inside Geto’s compound. 

“Listen,” Kenji says, soft, slow. As if you were wrapped in a silver emergency blanket and perched on the end of an ambulance after fighting off a monster. And–have you been? 

Confusion blurs your thoughts, your memories. You haven’t been… unhappy in a long time. Haven’t thought about those unpleasant days, when you fought. When you ran. Instead, you’ve thought about how comfortable you are; how nice it feels when Geto puts aside his duties now and then, and spends more time with you.

When did you stop trying to get away?

Kenji seems to sense your thoughts, somehow; sense your inner turmoil which must surely be written on your face as clear as day. 

“I’ll help you,” he continues, as his words seem to grow louder and louder in your ear. Like a siren–like a wake up call. “Meet me at the park around the corner. Tonight. Whatever’s going on… whatever’s happened, I can help you.” 

I can help you. And you need it, don’t you? Help?

Your mouth opens stupidly, like a fish, but before you can say anything, two familiar presences are by your side. 

Kenji drops your hands, and you find yourself staring down at them. 

“Who is this?” Mimiko asks, a shopping bag tucked over her arm. She takes one of your hands in hers, gives it a firm squeeze.

“Do you know them?” Nanako’s hand is in yours just as swiftly as her sister’s, and this time, you recollect yourself–you give her hand a squeeze first.

“I don’t know,” you lie, the first time you’ve lied to the girls in what seems like forever. “He was just apologizing for running into me.”

The girls look at each other, leaning forward, with you in between. You feel the weight of their stares glancing by you, like they might just brush your cheek. 

But–

“Let’s go home,” is all they say together, and begin to lead you away. You don’t dare answer Kenji, but as they turn you away, you dare it–

You give the smallest of nods.

You’ll meet him.

–

“Did you behave?” Geto murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. Every muscle in your body seems to lock in at once, the thought pattering against your skull–He knows he knows he knows he knows–before he pulls away and laughs a little. A melodic sound that pulls you down from your tense height, though it feels like your feet skid the entire way.

“Only a tease,” he says, almost airily, before he looks at the girls. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Nanako and Mimiko exchange a look, and there, an awful thought–They’ll tell him–before they dutifully pull the sides of their shopping bags closer in near unison to hide their gifts. 

“You’ll find out at the party,” they say in unison, and you can’t help the cold wash of relief that runs through your stomach. They must have believed you, and they know mentioning the man to Geto will only spoil the party they’ve been planning for weeks. 

It will definitely spoil it, you think, once he finds out you’ve run away.

–

You’re not very poetic, as a general rule of thumb. Oh, sometimes you try. You take pen to paper and scribble out lines about your feelings, about the way the trees look in the garden you’re allowed to roam, the way Geto’s empty side of the bed feels in the morning. 

It never amounts to anything satisfying, you can’t quite seem to make the words stick. But here, now, in this moment, maybe you could write something worth remembering.

The moonlight brushes against Geto’s hair as daintily as your fingers, which skim the strands on the pillow, not daring to get anywhere close to his scalp, to the softness of his cheek. He might wake up. He might wake up and realize that he’s let you go in the night, his arms tired and slack, and you’ve slipped out of bed–

But you’re not gone yet, are you? No. Now, you’re leaning next to the bed, watching the way the moonlight through the window makes half his face glow in the darkness. He looks like a sculpture, with only a hint of his chest rising to tell you that he’s a living being, and not some piece of marble in the garden.

And oh, how lovely he looks. How serene. 

Maybe you should stay. Maybe this is an awful idea. Maybe it will simply lead to trouble and upset and you’ll topsy-turvy everything in your world again, and it won’t be worth it.

But then you remember Kenji’s hands squeezing yours and those thoughts, whirling and long repressed, of the world outside. The world you left behind. A world waiting to welcome you again, you’re sure, if you just make that first move to leave.

So you do leave–swiftly and with dread and hope fighting for space in your stomach. 

–

Meeting Kenji in the park is surreal. Being truly alone in some outside place, away from attendants, away from the girls, away from Geto. It is only you and Kenji and the moon above, watching silently. 

You don’t tell him about this out of body feeling; there is an embarrassment that overtakes you all too suddenly at the thought of letting him know everything.

Instead, you tell him about the kidnapping. The training. The ups and downs with Geto, the highs and lows of what has become of your life. The escape attempts, the fights, the slow descent into accepting that you won’t be able to leave.

You don’t tell him what he doesn’t need to know. How it feels when Geto strokes your back on nights you feel lonely, how it makes your stomach flutter when he kisses you with a quiet warmness instead of hunger; how you no longer dread his presence, but normalize it, welcome it–invite it, even.

“We’ll go to the police,” he says, and you feel bad for the barking laugh that pushes its way out of your throat. He didn’t mean to say something stupid. Pointless. You know that.

“He would find me,” you say, quietly. “Find us. He’d kill anyone involved. He’d kill you.” Would he kill me? You wonder, and don’t ask aloud. This should make Kenji give up. Run away, and protect himself. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he grips your hand again, squeezing it like he’s been the one to hold you all these years. He waits until you turn to look at him, and you can see the glossy tears in his eyes, the way he looks so frazzled–but determined. Hopeful. Kind. 

“Please let me help you.”

These words hurt your chest. 

“Is there a day you can slip away like this again?”

You don’t answer right away. You chew on the words, heart pounding. 

How sick it feels that some part of you wants to say no. Wants to be Cinderella hiking up her ballgown and calling out that she has to get back to her kidnapper’s compound by midnight or she’ll turn into a pumpkin.

But–

It’s not just Kenji that you left behind, is it? It’s your parents, your friends, your family, your neighbors. The world itself. 

And something small inside you, louder and louder, knows you want to get back to that world. 

“The party,” you murmur, almost without thinking. “Tomorrow night. Can you meet me at the gate of the compound?” 

Kenji’s smile breaks your heart and you feel tears slipping down your cheeks. He reaches up to brush them away and you almost flinch from the intimacy.

“Tomorrow night,” he repeats.

Tomorrow night indeed.

The giddiness of it all carries you all the way back to the compound, sneaking through the shadows, stumbling through the gaps in security that the girls taught you one evening so they could take you to see a movie in town. 

It even carries you through the hallways back to Geto’s bedroom, where he should still be sleeping–

Where he is, instead, sitting in his chair and staring right at you as you come through the doorway. He stands, when you enter, and you don’t move as he bridges the gap between you. 

"Where did you go off to?"

A lie passes your lips as easily as air. "I was just helping with the decorations for the party. S-Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.” 

He pauses, pulls you closer and leans in, kisses your neck. “Ah,” he hums, “And here I was worried you were trying to escape again.” He sighs into your skin, warm and tickling. “You’ve been so good. But I still wonder, now and then…”

It feels impossible for your muscles to lock in so tight, but they do, even as he pulls you back into the bedroom towards your shared bed. 

“No,” he says, almost a murmur. “You’ve been so good to me these past years, haven’t you?” He gestures towards the bed and you climb onto it, no need for instructions, and begin to disrobe. Your chest is tight–everything from your head to toe feels tight–and you’re waiting for something to snap. Him–or you? 

But he doesn’t. And you don’t. Instead, he lets his robe drop to his shoulders, then lower. 

“I think I’d like an early present,” he says, low. And the sound of his voice, the sight of him disrobing, brings a familiar heated flush–a familiar pride. A familiar feeling of usefulness that he has cultivated in you through careful training.

You don’t protest as he climbs onto the bed, as he hovers over you and begins to take what is his–but as your head hits the pillow, you wonder how much emptier the bed will be tomorrow night. –

It’s like you're not in your own body. Can Geto tell? Can the girls? You take another pretend sip of champagne so they think you’re just drunk, high on the alcohol and not the thought of freedom. What an elusive thing, freedom. Something you’d given up on grasping yet here it is, dangling in front of you, held by Kenji’s warm hands.

Geto is too busy for most of the night to stay near you. There are too many people, too many speeches, too many moving parts. It’s glorious, really, for the opportunity it gives you–

Because when he’s crowds-deep into the room, and the girls have run off to start gathering the gifts, you are able to slip away. It feels sickeningly easy. No one pays much attention to you anymore, not like they might have a few years ago, keeping you on a tight and perhaps literal leash.

It wasn’t practical to pack anything, so you try not to regret leaving a few treasured items behind as you shift through the shadows, keeping yourself in the darkness. Though it hardly matters. Most everyone is at the party, desperate for a glimpse of Geto; desperate to please him. Like you are, sometimes. Or were, you think. You’re going to leave all that behind. Aren’t you?

Kenji is standing at the gate like he isn’t seriously risking his life to help you. Like this is a game. He even smiles when you make it, as he pushes open the unlocked door and grips your hand to pull you through.

It makes your heart feel a bit strained–how stupid he is, how little he knows about Geto. How much more you know about him, how cruel he can be–How he looks when he sleeps contentedly by your side, how his smile gets a little higher when you do something he finds cute, how his fingers feel against your cheek.

Your feet skid against the ground. Oh, oh–

Kenji looks back when your gravity pulls against him. 

He says your name, and your chest tightens.  

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” A touch of annoyance in his voice. No wonder, he is afraid to get caught, after all. 

“No,” you say, voice cracking, throat dry. But haven’t you left something behind? No, not something. Someone. (Not just him–not just him, but the girls, too.) “It’s just–I just–I don’t know if I…” 

If I can leave him. 

You shouldn’t feel this way. You shouldn’t. But you do, and it keeps you rooted, keeps your shoes digging into the ground even as Kenji gives you a tug.

“Come on,” he says, more of a hiss. “We don’t have much time.” He gives another tug, and this time you actually pull against his grip. 

“I can’t!” 

The shock registers on his face as quickly as it registers in your heart, plucking hard like a taut string. 

Kenji’s surprise turns to something else, an emotion you haven’t seen for some time. Irritation–no. Stronger. Harder. Something meaner mixed with disbelief.

“What the hell–” He says your name in a way that makes it sound like an awful thing. “Don’t tell me–” His lip curls, his eyebrows furrow. “Don’t tell me you love that bastard. Think of what he’s done to you!”

Your tongue snakes out to lick your dry lips and you know what might be said here. What Kenji wants to hear. That you’re just confused, you’re scared, you don’t know what to do. 

But you do know what to do. And what you can’t say. What you don’t want to say to him. 

It doesn’t need to be said, anyway. It’s clear as day on your face, on the way your shoes are planted in the ground. Kenji’s expression turns awful and you can tell he understands that truth of yours; a truth that feels so much uglier when you’re outside the compound. 

You do love Geto. You do, and maybe it’s wrong and fucked up and–

Geto is here–somewhere. You can feel him, although there’s no sign of him anywhere, no sound of approaching footsteps. But it’s something innate in you now, this ability to sense his presence. 

“You have to leave,” you say, quickly, words hopping out of your mouth like a skipping stone. “Before it’s too late. He–he’ll kill you.” And despite the way Kenji looked at you, you don’t want him dead. You just want him gone and out of your life, back to his old world, even if he will no longer be ignorant–happily?--of your whereabouts.

For a moment he keeps a grip on your hand, and you wonder if he’ll plead with you to come with him. Convince you that your life here is terrible and you need to leave. He’ll try to convince you for so long that Geto will come and kill him, and you’ll sob over his dead body.

None of that happens. Instead, he lets go, abruptly, like your hand is electric. 

He says your name and when you look up at him, he merely shakes his head. 

“I don’t know who you are anymore. You’ve… changed.” Changed. Said awfully, like the word was spoiled milk in his mouth. 

“What do you mean?” And you ask this, despite perhaps not wanting the answer. 

It doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t give one.

Instead, he turns, without so much as a goodbye, and leaves you standing alone at the gate in the darkness. 

Alone–and clutching the string of your heart that kept you from leaving in the first place.

–

Everything is wrong. The compound should be lit up, all sound and music, the din of people inside the party. But instead, it’s like the world has been snuffed out–there is only darkness. Not even the familiar glow of candles in hallways or electric lights snug inside the maze of rooms.

There’s only one light and you follow it, moth to flame, all the while a knot in your stomach ties itself tighter and tighter. The world is quiet and dark and you’re going to the only thing you can see–the temple where Geto and his followers meet. 

A temple of light, now.

You don’t see anyone inside as you cross the threshold, but you’re not stupid enough to think that you’re alone.

And you aren’t–you aren’t, and when you sense Geto behind you, it is with the same familiarity as the feeling of someone presenting your winter coat to be put on at the long end of a weary evening.

Only instead of being enveloped in warmth, Geto stands behind you–and his hand shoots out to grip your neck.

It’s nostalgic, in its own way. The press of his fingers against your neck, the slight squeeze. A warning, but this time, you think it will be more than that. A blown last chance, perhaps. He’ll kill you. Or throw you out, and that might just be worse. 

“It was quite stupid of you,” he says, slowly, as if you need time to process his words, “to think that I wouldn’t find out what you were planning.”

How awfully nostalgic, too, when he pushes you against the hard stone of one of the statues in the temple. It connects with your side in a flash of pain, and Geto turns you around with ease. If he notices the way your body has begun to tremble, he doesn’t show it. 

“Humor me,” he murmurs, curling his hand around the front of your neck. “Why didn’t you leave with him?” 

His expression is cold, you think. You’ve gotten so much better at reading him, and yet, you haven’t done anything particularly displeasing in so long that it feels like wading into unfamiliar territory. 

“Not that you would have gotten far,” he adds, a slight sneer in his tone. “Not with that fool.”

A sneer in his tone, yes, but also–is it jealousy? How could Geto be jealous of someone like Kenji? Geto, who is smarter, and stronger; Geto, who always seems to know what you need, even when you don’t. Geto–the man you can’t imagine being without, despite it all.

The thoughts come like dominos, clicking together with precision.

“I didn’t leave because… because…”

Despite his grip on your neck, despite your trembling, despite the fear that he might kill you–

“I love you.”

You reach out and caress his cheek with one hand, and reach forward, his fingers pressing into the soft tissue of your neck, to kiss him softly on the lips. 

The surprise that registers on his face does not meld into disgust like Kenji; instead, it seems to freeze, and you’re keenly aware of the fact that you know he prefers to initiate any intimate contact himself. You forgot, in your haze, in the blurry anxiety of this evening. 

“I’m–” 

Sorry, you were going to say, but you don’t say; because his lips are suddenly on yours, hungry and warm and unrelenting. The hand on your throat grips the back of your hair and keeps you in place as he presses himself closer against you.

And what trembling you had from before is replaced with anew, but from warmth this time, from the buzzing that begins low in your bellybutton and spreads as Geto’s kisses travel from your mouth to your neck; as his fingers begin to work at your clothes.

“I want to hear you say that again–” He bites your neck, lapping at the mark. “And again–” His fingers undo the last belt holding your outfit together, and the fabric drops to the ground. “And again.”

You whimper as he guides you further into the temple, onto the space where he might normally greet his followers. The tatami presses against your bare skin as he begins to undo his own clothes, not bothering to order you to do it for him in his need.

“Until you’re screaming it,” he murmurs, his hair tickling your face as he looms over you. 

And you know his words are nothing short of a promise. 

–

You are sometimes a stupid thing, he thinks. Yet you are undoubtedly still his–stupid, yes, on occasion. But his. 

You proved that to him, on the night you chose not to run away. You wouldn’t have been able to, of course. That moronic monkey that called himself your “boyfriend” had neither the intelligence nor stamina to get you farther than the gate. He didn’t even sense the guards watching him the entire time.

He didn’t sense Geto, either, early the next morning, when he came to kill the fool who thought he’d steal something from a far superior being. 

If he hadn’t been still basking in the bliss of the night before, it might have been more excruciating. Oh, it hurt. Kenji’s eyes had gone wide and he’d choked on blood and tried desperately to get some final words out. But it might have been more entertaining to drag it out for hours–days–perhaps longer.

Ah, the things you make him do, without even realizing it. Unintentional mercy was just another thing to add to the list of things you’ve placed on his shoulders. 

He’d come here to tell you just that; to tell you how Kenji died, and why he died, and how he’s glad you’ll never have to worry about him bothering you again.

Only you’d surprised him. Something you don’t often do, even when you try.

Surprised him with a shy smile and your hands behind your back, holding something apparently quite precious.

It was–it is. 

A positive pregnancy test. No doubt procured by one of the girls. 

The full weight of it doesn’t hit him yet, won’t hit him, he thinks, until much later on. A child–with you. There is much to consider. Legacies and heirs and all that.

But for now, he focuses on you. You, not leaping for joy but smiling at him, an almost nervous sort of expectation on your face. He can see the thoughts dancing inside your head–Is this okay? Is he angry? Will he be happy? And he can never quite describe how it feels, this knowledge that he has so much power over you.

That he can make you smile shyly and look down with a nervous little glance and ask if he’s happy.

It’s endearing, truly. You’re endearing. 

And ah, that unintentional mercy strikes again. It is enough to make him slip Kenji’s bloodied watch into a fold of his robe.

For now–he’ll let you plan on how you’ll share the news with the twins. 

You can learn about the fool’s death another time.

[steveseddie]

apply directly to the forehead

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: alone | rating: t | wc: 997 | tags: hurt comfort, steve has migraines, eddie takes care of him, hand holding, forehead kisses read on ao3

No one notices when Steve slips out the front door. No one but Eddie, who tells Jonathan he’s going out for a smoke and follows him.

There are only woods around the Hopper-Byers cabin, and the only light comes from the Christmas lights hanging from the roof so it takes a moment for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the near darkness. He sees Steve sitting on the steps with his head between his knees and taking slow, deep breaths. 

“Steve?” Eddie speaks softly, trying not to startle him but Steve still flinches. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbles, keeping his head down. 

Eddie sits next to him. “Wanna try again? That wasn’t very convincing.”

Steve groans but it’s not his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan, it’s a pained groan. 

“‘S just a headache, ‘m fine,” Steve insists but his voice sounds weak. 

“Look at me.” Eddie squeezes his knee. “Stevie, please, look at me.” 

Steve sighs but lifts his head. Eddie can’t help but wince at how he looks. His face is twisted into a grimace, his skin is paper-white and there are tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, Steve. It’s a migraine, isn’t it? A bad one?” He gently brushes some hair off Steve’s face. Steve gives a tiny nod. “When did it start?” 

“A few hours ago,” Steve says with a shuddery breath. “While shopping with Robin, all the lights, the music and the crowds–”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Steve shrugs, then winces. “Didn’t want to worry anyone.” 

“Of course not.” That’s why Steve still showed up to the Hopper-Byers Christmas party, knowing there would be loud music and even louder kids, and then forced himself to smile through his pain. Eddie sighs. “C’mon, I’m taking you home.” 

“No, Eds–” Steve protests weakly. “I can drive myself-”

Eddie huffs. “Steve, you can’t even keep your eyes open right now.”

“But the party–”

“–will carry on without us,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes. “Wait here, okay?” 

Steve sighs and nods, and Eddie squeezes his knee again before heading back inside. 

He finds Robin and tells her that Steve isn’t feeling well and he’s taking him home. 

“Do you want me to come?” She asks, worried.

“Nah, I got him,” Eddie says. Steve wouldn’t want someone else to leave the party early because of him. “Just tell Hopper I’ll pick up the van tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay, thanks, Eddie,” she says with a quick hug. 

Outside, Eddie finds Steve leaning against the railing, looking like he’s about to keel over. 

“Alright, big boy. Let’s get you home,” he says, leading them to the Beemer.

“No van?” 

“Nope. You complain about how fucking loud my van is on a good day. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate it today of all days.”

Steve chuckles weakly. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to drive a cool car for once.” 

Eddie scoffs indignantly. “My van is plenty cool, Harrington.” 

“Uh huh.” 

He sticks his tongue out at Steve and starts the car. The drive to his house is quiet. Eddie turns the radio all the way off, Steve keeps his head against the window and his eyes closed, and Eddie tries his best not to jostle the car too much. 

He has to gently shake Steve’s shoulder once they arrive and then he follows him inside. 

He goes straight to his bedroom and collapses on the bed, taking his shoes off but leaving his jeans and his ugly Christmas sweater on. 

Eddie finds some sleeping clothes and tosses them his way. “Take those jeans off, Harrington.”

Steve huffs. “At least buy me dinner first, Munson,” he says, his hands working on his belt buckle. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink but with just the moonlight illuminating the room through the curtains, he doubts Steve can see it. “So that’s what it takes to get into Steve Harrington’s pants?”

“Usually,” Steve says, shoving his jeans off before sliding on sweatpants, keeping his movements slow to not make his headache worse. “But for a guy as hot as you, I can make an exception.”

Eddie chokes on his spit. Leave it to Steve to flirt while his head is waging a war against the rest of him.  

After changing out of his Christmas sweater, Steve falls back into bed, burrowing his face into his pillow with a groan. The mattress dips when Eddie sits next to him, his back against the headboard. Steve blinks one eye open. “You don’t have to stay, I’m–”

“-in no condition to be alone right now,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes.

“You should go back to the party. I didn’t mean to ruin your night–”

“Steve Harrington called me hot. Nothing could ruin my night after that,” he jokes even if there’s some truth to it. 

Steve groans– this time it is his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan. “I’m gonna regret saying that.” 

“Because you didn’t mean it or–”

“Oh, I meant it,” Steve says, rolling to his side and looking up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes that might not have anything to do with his migraine. “But now you can hold it against me.”

“It would be kind of hypocritical of me since I also find you hot,” Eddie says, playing with a rip in his jeans. 

Steve’s fingers find his, intertwining them. “If my head wasn’t about to explode I would suggest we do something about that.”

Eddie’s widen. “Something like–”

“Like kissing. Though I could be persuaded to do other things.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says laughing shakily. “Now my head feels like it might explode.”

“We can talk in the morning,” Steve says, shifting until he finds a comfortable position. 

“Thought you didn’t want me to stay,” Eddie teases.

“Said you didn’t have to stay, Eds. I always want you here.” 

Eddie’s stomach flutters. “Okay,” he says, sliding down until he’s lying next to Steve, their fingers still intertwined. 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Steve whispers, half asleep already. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, kissing Steve’s forehead. “Anytime.”

[lovebugism]

i’d love to see what you’d do for a holiday spent with rockstar!eddie 🙂‍↔️ maybe a quiet night in decorating or just smitten with each other’s company after time spent apart?? a suggestive ending maybe 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

ty for requesting :D — you and rockstar!eddie spend the holidays together after coming back from tour (rockstar!eddie universe, established relationship, allusions to smut 18+ | 1.2k)

You wake that morning to a heavy and familiar weight on top of you. 

Eddie Munson — rockstar, heartthrob, and world-famous dweeb — is sprawled along your back like your own personal blanket. You swear you can feel his heart beating softly against your shoulder blade while his mouth rests on your cheek, pink and softly parted to exhale little snores in your ear.

You let him for a while, until you think you feel drool on your jaw.

“Wha—?” Eddie slurs when you shift slightly to shove at him. He makes no move to get off of you, though.

“You know we aren’t in a bunk anymore, right?” you mumble into the pillow. “So you don’t have to sleep directly on top of me now.”

“Well, jokes on you, ‘cause I love being on top of you,” he quips, voice heavy with sleep.

You raise a feeble hand to swat at him. “You’re such a perv,” you grumble.

Eddie laughs quietly in your ear, then brushes his lips along your cheek in a chaste kiss. “Want breakfast?” he mumbles against your skin, soft and warm with a lingering slumber.

You nod lazily against the cushion. “Yeah. But I also wanna sleep for, like, five more hours…”

“How 'bout I do a bagel run, and after we fall asleep on the couch? Like old times?”

The mention of old times makes your chest feel all sparkly. Back when you swore you’d hate each other to the grave, but Eddie still had your breakfast order memorized, and you’d still have his favorite T.V. show on by the time he got back.

You’d doze off together, on opposite sides of the couch, but under the same blanket — like some kind of old married couple. Until Steve inevitably found you both there, and you’d go back to hating each other all over again.

“Deal,” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Eddie pats your ass twice and slides off of you.

You grieve his warmth the moment he’s gone.

An hour or more later, the two of you are sufficiently full with breakfast, passed out on opposite sides of the couch, with Scooby Doo re-runs playing quietly across the room.

That’s precisely how Steve finds you — his roommates turned world-famous rockstars — snoring with their mouths wide open, at one in the afternoon, after months of being away. 

With his arms full of groceries, he slams the door shut with his foot. The resounding thud startles both of you accordingly. You and Eddie lift your heavy heads like waking zombies, wincing as you stretch your aching backs.

“This is really humbling to see, by the way,” Steve quips as he hangs his keys by the door.

Eddie scowls. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Steve shrugs. “It’s just— while you guys were halfway across the country, people wouldn’t stop gushing about the two of you... But it’s a really nice reminder to know that you guys are still a bunch of slobs.”

“Asshole…” Eddie grumbles.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and sit further up. “What are those?” you ask, nodding to the paper bags he holds in both arms.

Steve’s lips jut softly out as he peers over the tops of his groceries. “Ornaments, garlands, tinsel… And some condoms, ‘cause we were running low.”

“Who’s we?” Eddie scoffs.

“Me and your mom—”

“I love you, Stevie,” you say. “But there’s no way in hell I’m decorating this place today.”

“Yeah, Harrington,” the wild-haired boy beside you squints. “We just got home. You’ll have to peel me off this couch if you want me to help.”

“Oh, please,” Steve scoffs.

“What?”

You flash him a knowing grin. “We all know you’re gonna watch Steve do it until he inevitably puts something in the wrong spot and pisses you off until you just to do it yourself. You do it every year, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his chocolate eyes. “I’m not that predictable, doll.”

—————

The apartment is fully decorated by nightfall, by Eddie’s own stubborn volition.

Steve helps you bake a batch of cookies, then promptly leaves after taking a phone call you weren’t allowed to spy in on. He shoves on his coat and mumbles something about an old bootycall that was back in town for the holidays.

You break into his good liquor accordingly, and spike your mugs of hot chocolate with his expensive whiskey.

“C’mere,” Eddie waves from his spot by the glowing Christmas tree.

You let out an immediate whine from the couch, made sluggish from the long day and the spiked cocoa. “What?” you call back in a dramatic mewl.

“You gotta put the star on, doll— You do it every year,” he mocks with a lopsided smile, slick with alcohol.

“But I’m comfortable!”

“Stop complainin’ and get your sweet ass up here.”

You comply, though not without a series of inaudible grumbles as your feet shuffle along the carpeted floor in subdued protest. Eddie guides you up the small step ladder with his palms splayed on your ass.

“What? I’m helping you!” he defends when you flash him a knowing look.

His hands jerk instinctively to your hips when you rise to the tips of your toes, leaning slightly over to hang the shining star upon the highest bough, as it were. You don’t seem to notice how the old wood wobbles slightly beneath you. Eddie does, though, and his chest stings with a fleeting panic as you smile widely down at him.

“It’s so pretty, Eds,” you marvel, only partially tipsy. “You did such a good job.”

“I know,” Eddie hums, all proud of himself, as his palms smooth back over the plush of your ass. “So pretty…” he echoes in a distracted murmur.

“Stop being a perv. I’m trying to compliment you.” You roll your eyes and descend the creaking ladder.

The tree looks best from far away, you think — a chaotic mess of lights and tinsel; of shiny new ornaments and old ones the three of you have collected since childhood. It’s nostalgic, homey, warm. All the feelings you’d nearly forgotten about after spending months on the road.

“Thank you for doing all the work, by the way,” you lilt sheepishly, resting your head on Eddie’s shoulder when he stands at your side. You inhale the sweet scent of his cologne until your chest glows with it.

“How’re you gonna make up for it, huh?” he quips, obviously playful, as he presses a chaste kiss to your hair.

“By cleaning up the mess you made.”

Eddie only then seems to notice the piles of boxes and ripped-open plastic littered along the floor. “Okay, well, what about after that?” he presses.

“Um… Getting in the shower, probably,” you continue with a feigned obliviousness. “‘Cause I smell like sweat and booze.”

A pleased sound rumbles in Eddie’s throat as he smiles down at you. “Mm… Can I join?”

You meet his grin with your brows raised in question. “Only if you’re gonna shave my legs for me,” you answer.

He’s grown strangely fond of doing it for you, which you noticed after months of sharing showers to save water on the road. Not only does it save you the grueling work, but it’s always sure to end with his mouth between your thighs. 

So it's a win-win, really. 

Eddie knows it, too, and he smiles wider than he realizes.

“Deal.”

[23victoria]

christmas tree decorating

​​pairings: 𝓯1 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼!

word count: 1.1𝓴

authors note: 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Charles

You hand Charles the ornament box as All I Want for Christmas Is You blares through the speakers. He's humming terribly off-key, holding up a glittering red bauble with exaggerated care. "This one needs to go here," he declares, pointing high up.

"Charles, that's too close to the star!" you laugh, watching him balance on his tiptoes.

"But it will catch the light perfectly—trust me!" He grins, looking over his shoulder for validation.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes, but let him place it. When he steps back, he tilts his head like he's studying a masterpiece. "Mon dieu, we are artists!" he says dramatically, pulling you in for a twirl.

“Artists, huh? Looks more like glitter vomit,” you tease.

Laughing, he spins you into his arms and kisses you in front of the tree, the lights casting a soft glow around you both.

Max

“Max, you’re supposed to spread the tinsel out!” you say, hands on your hips.

He stands there, mid-toss, with a chunk of silver tinsel in his hands. “No, this way is better. More chaotic. It has personality.”

“Personality or laziness?”

“Both.” He shrugs with a smirk, chucking the tinsel at the tree like confetti. You pick up a snowflake ornament and hang it while he adjusts the fake snow, muttering about how it should look ‘real but not too real.’

When Oh Santa! starts playing, he twirls you unexpectedly, nearly knocking over the tree. “Max!”

“What?” he says, wide-eyed, before tugging you close. “We can’t argue under mistletoe rules.” He points to a stray sprig hanging nearby before capturing your lips with a quick, sweet kiss.

Carlos

Carlos has the Christmas playlist blasting, shimmying his hips as Baby it’s Cold Outside comes on. You laugh from the couch as he insists on dancing his way to the tree with every ornament he hangs. “Look at this move, eh? I’m like a Christmas ninja!” he says, throwing in a spin.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tease, but you can’t stop smiling.

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he counters smoothly, handing you a candy cane to hang.

When the tree is finally finished—gold ribbons, red baubles, and twinkling lights shining brightly—he steps back with a satisfied grin. “It’s perfect. Just like us.”

Before you can respond, he dips you dramatically and plants a kiss on your lips, the music swelling in the background.

Lewis

The two of you are in a competition—who can hang the ornaments faster. Lewis is half-dancing to This Christmas, carefully placing his baubles while keeping an eye on your progress.

“You know I’m winning, right?” he quips, hanging a sparkly silver one high up.

“Oh, please,” you reply, laughing as you toss some tinsel at him. “Speed doesn’t equal quality.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “Are you doubting my tree-decorating skills?”

You both step back once the last ornament is hung, admiring the colorful chaos of lights, baubles, and garlands. “I think we outdid ourselves,” he says, sliding his arms around your waist.

“We make a pretty good team,” you reply softly, and he kisses you under the glowing lights.

Lando

“Wait, wait!” Lando calls out as Jingle Bell Rock starts playing. “We have to time the star going on with the music drop!”

You burst out laughing as he scrambles to grab the star. “You’re such a nerd!”

“Shh, I’m setting the mood.” He climbs the step stool, balancing precariously while you hold your breath. “And… there!” he yells as the music hits, placing the star perfectly.

The two of you stand back, marveling at the tree. “We crushed it,” he says proudly, brushing fake snow off his sweater.

“You crushed it. I just supervised.”

Lando smirks, pulling you in for a quick kiss under the glow of the tree. “Best supervisor ever.”

Oscar

Oscar carefully unwraps each ornament like it's a fragile piece of treasure. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmasplays softly in the background as he hands you a snowman ornament. "This one should go in the middle," he suggests, his voice thoughtful.

"Are you sure you don’t want to measure it first?" you tease, hanging it where he pointed.

He chuckles, lightly bumping your shoulder. "Hey, someone has to take this seriously. Look at this tree—it’s a masterpiece in progress."

You step back, admiring the perfectly spaced ornaments and ribbons. “You’re way too meticulous for this.”

“Well, someone’s gotta balance out your chaos,” he quips with a grin.

Once the star is in place, Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, his cheeks slightly flushed as he looks at the tree. “It’s kinda perfect, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, turning toward him just as he kisses you softly. “But only because of you.”

Sebastian

Sebastian is determined to make this a sustainable Christmas, so he insisted on a real tree from a local farm and eco-friendly ornaments. Last Christmas by Wham! plays quietly as he carefully hangs a wooden reindeer. “This one was carved by kids from the market,” he says proudly.

You laugh, holding up an ornament shaped like a pinecone. “And this one’s…from our garden?”

“Exactly!” He smiles, leaning over to adjust the tree skirt. “Nature’s decorations are always better.”

It’s a slower process with Seb, but every step feels meaningful. You help him string up the soft white lights, both of you smiling at how cozy the room feels.

When the tree is finally done, Seb turns to you with a gentle smile. “You know, I think this might be the best one we’ve ever done.”

“Probably because you picked everything,” you joke, but before you can say more, he pulls you close and kisses you softly under the tree, the moment as warm as the glow around you.

Jenson

Jenson insisted on turning decorating the tree into a full event—Christmas music, hot chocolate, and a ridiculous Santa hat perched on his head. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree blasts through the speakers as he hands you ornaments.

“This is so crooked,” you mutter, trying to fix the garland he strung unevenly.

“It’s called artistic asymmetry, darling,” he says, draping his arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes, shoving a candy cane into his hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky, or irresistible?” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh.

By the time you finish, the tree is a blend of sentimental ornaments, flashing lights, and just enough chaos to feel cozy. “I think we nailed it,” Jenson says, stepping back with his arm slung around your waist.

“Mostly me,” you tease, leaning into him.

“Well, then I guess you deserve a reward,” he murmurs, pulling you into a deep kiss while the tree glows behind you.

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

[potchi-fics]

note: sevika being soft. made this in like 10 minutes becus i miss her.

      sevika’s pretty sure that you cast a spell on her because ain’t no way you, a nobody who owns a bakery in zaun, turns her into putty. seriously, she is baffled. how you manage to break down her walls is a wonder not only to her but to everybody. and let me tell you, she doesn’t like people. like right now, her foot slams the door to your home close, the noise signaling you that she’s home. she hangs her cape up by the hook beside the door, taking off her boots, and rolling her sore shoulders back. her gaze falls on your back, you’re doing the dishes, cleaning the pans and things you’ve used while cooking.

“you’re just in time for dinner,” you dry your hands on a towel, turning around to face her, a smile forming on your face, “welcome home, sev.”

      her body subtly sags, but you notice it. you always do. she lazily walks to you, her tired eyes locking into yours, and you open your arms for her to fall into. you wrap your arms up around her neck, your fingers playing with the back of her baby hair, almost lulling her to sleep. in return, her human arm finds itself underneath your shirt, rubbing circles on your back.

“tired?” she nuzzles her head in the side of your neck, her breath tickling you, “let’s go eat?”

“let’s stay like this for a second, doll.” 

“okay.”

      you cherish times like these—her being softer. it’s rare, but they come by every once in a while, her job draining her to the bone. and sevika would just stay in your embrace, she doesn’t care if her legs are begging her to sit down, she doesn’t care at all. you pull away and before she can say a word, you press your soft lips on her cheek, just under her eye, and that action, that alone, almost makes her tear up.

she closes her eyes, “i don’t deserve you, doll.”

“you don’t,” you snort out jokingly, “but i’m still here.”

her eyelids flutter open, glaring at you but you know it holds no malice, “you’re supposed to say the opposite.”

“i’m only teasing,” you put both of your hands on her face, rubbing along them with your thumb, “and i think you’re the only one who deserves me anyway, you take care of me so well. who’s my good girl?”

      she gives you her infamous i’m-so-done-with-your-shit face, making you giggle and kiss her again. your kisses travel from her eyebrows, down to her mouth; pecking her lips affectionately. god, she loves you so much.

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: Kiss

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time Dean Winchester kisses you Word count: 861 A/N: I am debating on making this a series, covering different "Firsts" with Dean.. Any interest in that? Let me know!

The first time Dean Winchester kisses you, it happens in the least romantic place imaginable—an old gas station parking lot on the outskirts of nowhere. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow over the cracked asphalt and the Impala parked nearby, her paint gleaming like polished obsidian. The faint smell of gasoline mingles with the crisp scent of impending rain, a storm brewing in the distance.

It wasn’t planned. Nothing about Dean ever feels planned, really. He’s a mess of contradictions—cocky and self-assured one minute, guarded and vulnerable the next. You’ve been riding shotgun with him for weeks now, chasing down leads, salt-and-burning restless spirits, and fighting things most people wouldn’t dare to believe existed. Somewhere along the way, you became more than just hunting partners. You don’t know what to call it yet, but there’s a connection between you, an unspoken pull that you’ve both been too stubborn—or scared—to acknowledge.

Until now.

It starts with an argument. Of course it does. Dean has this way of pushing your buttons, and tonight he’s doing it with the precision of a master.

“You can’t just run in there without a plan!” you snap, your arms crossed over your chest.

“And what was your plan, huh?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “To stand around and wait until the ghost decides to play nice? That’s not how this works.”

“It’s called strategy, Dean. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of going full kamikaze every damn hunt!”

He scoffs, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. Sometimes you just gotta act.”

“And you think too little!” you retort, your eyes narrowing. “One of these days, your impulsiveness is going to get you killed.”

The words hang in the air, sharper than you intended, and for a moment, Dean just stares at you. His jaw tightens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or regret—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Fine,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you’ve got it all figured out, why the hell do you even need me?”

It’s not the first time you’ve fought, but there’s something different about this one. The air between you feels charged, like the storm rolling in above. You don’t answer right away, and Dean takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Why, huh?” he presses, his tone softer but no less intense. “Why do you keep sticking around if I’m such a screw-up?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a wild, erratic rhythm that matches the storm clouds overhead. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Because it’s not that simple. Because you don’t stick around in spite of his flaws—you stick around because of them. Because Dean Winchester, for all his faults, is the kind of person who will throw himself in harm’s way without a second thought to save someone else. Because he’s loyal to a fault, fiercely protective, and has a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the world, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

“Dean…” you start, but his name barely makes it past your lips before he moves.

It’s not hesitant or tentative—it’s sudden, like he’s been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. His hands cup your face, rough and calloused but somehow gentle, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. It’s not perfect—Dean’s lips are a little chapped, and the angle is slightly awkward at first—but it’s real. There’s an urgency to it, a raw, unfiltered emotion that leaves you breathless. His hands are warm against your skin, grounding you even as the world seems to tilt on its axis.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your hands are fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer as if the space between you is unbearable. He responds in kind, deepening the kiss with a low, almost involuntary sound that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like the dam you’ve both been holding back has finally burst, and there’s no going back now.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together. The storm is closer now, the first drops of rain starting to fall, but neither of you seems to notice.

“Wow,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckles, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I probably should’ve—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your fingers still gripping his jacket. “Don’t apologize.”

His eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no wall, no mask, no bravado. Just Dean.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, his voice soft and almost vulnerable.

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Took you long enough.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and the tension between you finally seems to ease. The rain starts to pick up, but neither of you moves. For once, the hunt can wait. For once, the only thing that matters is this moment—messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect all at once.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 4

Summary: You get upset when you see other girls flirting with Jungkook but he always makes sure that you know you're the only one he wants Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Smuttttt hehe Requested by an anon 💜

"So yeah I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime? My friends and I are going out on Friday a-" "Can I come?" I ask, cutting off the woman at the coffee shop that's decided to chat up Jungkook.

I swear I leave his man alone for five minutes and he's already got a line of woman drooling over him.

"Um I'm sorry...who are you?" she asks, scoffing as if she owns him and I'm the one that's imposing. "She's my girlfriend" he says and pulls me in by my hips, kissing me in front of her to make a point leaving her turning her face in disgust.

"Way to lead a girl on" she huffs and walks off.

"Not his fault that you couldn't take a hint Honey" I call after her, telling myself I can't keep bringing him out with me when I'm in the wrong headspace.

I just wanted some company though...plus Ava was busy so I didn't have much of a choice.

"Hi Baby" Jungkook says, coaxing my focus back over to him. "Hi" I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest, clearly still upset making him smile.

"I don't know why you let them talk to you" I huff and sit down at the table he had gotten us with him sliding in across from me, lacing our fingers together and placing a kiss on my knuckles.

"Because I like seeing that look on your face. Plus I know you get satisfied when you see their reactions, knowing that you have something they want but couldn't get even if they tried" he reminds me but it's not good enough to get me out of this bad mood, not today.

"I would rather you just ignored them or told them you have a girlfriend" I huff for what feels like the twelfth time but it doesn't seem to bother him.

"You know I hardly ever get to interact with people besides you and Ava, just think of it as research" he explains leaving me cocking a brow and echoing the last word.

"Yeah you know, I get to be outside of the four walls of our home and learn how to evolve and treat you better and you get peace of mind because you know I'd never want anyone else but you" he continues leaving me sighing, knowing he really doesn't get the chance to get out much and observe the world.

His patterns and behaviors do switch up a bit every time I bring him out with me so I have to admit that it does make things seem less monotonous, makes him feel real.

I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

"Come on" he says and gets up, waiting for me to follow and I do so cautiously. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything" he laughs. "I just know you're not gonna enjoy being here anymore after what happened so let's just go for a walk" he offers, holding out his hand for me and so I resign to his idea and take it, allowing him to lead the way.

Our walk is quiet, contemplative even and it leaves him debating on whether or not to ask me what's wrong when he can infer the answer already, or at least part of it.

"I'm sorry" he says and pulls me aside to a more secluded area, gaining us a little more privacy. "I know you're just acting on your programing but I'm just not in the best headspace right now" I admit, having let my emotions simmer under the surface for a while now, leaving him placing a kiss on my forehead, a further expression of his apologetic state.

"You wanna talk about it?" he ask, cupping my face but not making me look at him, knowing I'd rather have a second to debate on if I'm ready to yet. I decidedly shake my head, realizing I'm not and he hums, not pushing it further, knowing that although in an area hidden from most of the people surrounding us this is not a place for uncomfortable conversations.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, now bringing my face back over to his, stroking my cheek and giving me a sad smile, thinking it might make me feel better and so I nod, accepting his request.

He places his lips against mine, the first time he's done so since we left the house, knowing that public displays of affection tend to make me a little uncomfortable at times. This time the kiss feels different though, I can feel the intensity growing with every meeting, a familiar fluttering felt deep within me.

"Jungkook wait" I gasp, the need for air almost forgotten, trailing his lips down my neck as a compromise but not ceasing his efforts to convey how much he wants me.

"Jungkook someone could see us" I reprimand him half heartedly, tilting my head to the side automatically, my body going through the same song and dance we've done time and time again. "Don't worry, I'll be able to sense them coming" he says, alerting me to another one of his features that I had yet to discover.

"You mean to tell me you have sensors that'll alert you if someone is coming just so we can have sex in public?" I scoff, pushing him off of me so I can see his face, needing to know if he's lying or not. "Well...yeah" he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world...news flash, nothing is normal with him.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples giving him the opportunity to come in closer again, placing his hands on my hips and continuing his onslaught of kisses, no doubt leaving a mark or two.

"Let me make you feel good. Just for a little bit, yeah?" he asks, no doubt sensing my arousal that's starting to leak out. "Are you sure you'll know before someone sees?" I ask after contemplating it for a second and he nods, his kisses now on my collarbone, threatening to go lower.

"I know you want to" he temps and I can't ignore that I do. We both know that this would help improve my mood just a little bit so I don't blame his programing for coming up with this solution. My resigning sigh replaced by a whine, him biting down on my collarbone to make me answer sooner.

"Think you can make me cum in three minutes?" I ask, challenging his abilities when I know for a fact that he can. "I don't need three minute doll" he chuckles and slides his hand from my waist to my hip to my thigh and slips it up my skirt, taking his time to tease me making me groan from impatience.

"Come on, let me take my time with you" he rasps in my ear, playing with the elastic of my underwear. "We don't have time" I remind him but he snaps it back making me jump from the surprise abuse to my hip.

"We have plenty of time" he counters and places a kiss below the shell of my ear, his fingers now changing course and trailing their way to my inner thigh, soon rubbing me through my thong, the damp spot on it undeniable making me mewl at the sensation.

"Jungkook please" I whine, fed up with the teasing so he relents this time, pushing it to the side and running his finger through my folds, catching me off guard when it starts to vibrate against me, placing my hand over my mouth, preventing the moan that was about to come out from being completely audible to any passerby, no matter if they can see us or not.

He dips a finger inside of me, rubbing his thumb against my clit, kicking up the buzzing sensation, making me whimper, the pleasure bubbling up sooner than I had expected.

I had no fucking idea he could do this, the vibrating abilities seemingly hidden from me for a moment like this, when he knows I need to cum hard and fast, voyeurism not being one of my kinks...yet.

"Fuck, Jungkook. Please" I gasp, the intensity of his fingers enough to tip me over but when he kneels down in front of me I about lose it there. His mouth attaching to me immediately, his tongue exploring my cunt and making my eyes roll back, my throat gone completely dry.

I lace my fingers through his hair and pull at his locks, the balance against the tree not being enough for me anymore as he throws one of my legs over his shoulder, granting him better access, his slurping against me making my eyes roll back, forbidden sounds from him making me lose my sense of sanity, forgetting where we are.

Once he places his vibrating thumb on my clit again I'm gone, cumming harder than I have in a while, the intensity of it leaving my knees weak, threatening to make me fall to them.

Once he's stopped licking me clean, the mewls from overstimulation heard loud and clear he gets out from under my dress and smirks at me, clearly satisfied with the work he's done. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, not bothering to try to clean up properly, getting off his knees and pressing his lips against mine again, the taste of myself of his lips enough to make me wet again.

I hear a scoff from behind Jungkook and I bite down on his lip in surprise, backing away from him, him not flinching at all with the lack of feeling absent from his robotic state. "This is a public park you freaks" the same woman from the coffee shop reprimands us, mortified by the scene she happened upon.

"Had to make it up to her for earlier" he shrugs leaving her scoffing once more, her obvious favorite form of response and storming out. Her cheeks now tinted a dark pink from sheer embarrassment, but no doubt mixed with anger.

Jungkook chuckles and turns back to me, expecting my reaction to be just as amused as his but I'm mad. More than mad I'm furious.

"You said you'd be able to stop before someone got close enough to see us!" I growl through gritted teeth making him coo at my now humiliated reaction. "What? I figured it would be best to show her who I'm really interested in, and clearly belong to" he says and pulls me in by my hips with me reluctantly dragging my feet all the way.

"Love you" he chuckles, infuriating me further. "I hate you" I counter and he laughs, "I'm sure you do" he replies and turns to walk away from me making me chase after him.

"Hey! I'm not done talking to you" I call out, trying to yank him to stop but of course it doesn't work, his strength unparalleled leaving me again dragging behind him awkwardly sighing before interlinking our arms to keep him close on this suddenly crowded sidewalk, people no doubt coming out to watch the sunset, me completely disregarding that replaced by my anger towards him.

"Let's just go home, we can continue our conversation there" he chuckles leaving me now being the one to scoff, muttering curses towards him to myself, his hearing impeccable, never being able to hide even the slightest whisper.

"Yes but I'm your dumb fucking robot, emphasis on the fucking" he says, his corny try of making me smile unsuccessful, leaving me rolling my eyes, the reaction although not initially expected making him the one who's smiling as a result.

"I love you" he tries again but is met with silence, "Oh Jungkook I love you too, you know exactly how to eat me out just right. Oh please won't you do it again?" he says in literally my voice, yet another feature hidden from me.

"Shut up!" I growl making him laugh, my clear surprise to it thoroughly amusing.

"Didn't you read the manual? I'm surprised you haven't asked me about my other features besides the basics of replicating human sex" he says, loud enough for just anyone to hear but luckily we're out of earshot. "I thought it was pretty self explanatory" I say in a hushed tone after placing my hand over his mouth, him licking it as a result making me withdraw it immediately.

"What? 'How to fuck your robot' wasn't interesting enough for you?" he chuckles, using the term Ava and I made up for said manual. "Just shut up and get in the car" I groan and he thankfully does as he's told, telling me everything he can do in very, very explicit detail all the way home.

"You wanna try some of them out" he temps, sliding his hand along my thigh once we pull up to the house. "NO!" I growl and get out of the car, slamming the door leaving a very very satisfied Jungkook to follow behind.

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[s4kura-tr3]

Ice skating! - how ice skating goes with the jjk men

Gojo satoru

The crisp winter air nipped at your nose as you laced up your skates on the bench by the rink. Gojo was already on the ice, gliding effortlessly, his white hair catching the light and his signature blue blindfold wrapped snugly around his eyes. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the attention he was drawing from passersby.

“Are you going to stand there admiring me all day, or are you coming?” he teased, his voice carrying over the soft music and chatter around the rink.

“I’m not admiring you!” you retorted, standing up and wobbling slightly on your skates.

Gojo was at your side in an instant, his gloved hands steadying you with ease. “Sure you aren’t,” he smirked, pulling you gently onto the ice.

You weren’t the most graceful skater, but Gojo made sure to keep a firm grip on your hands, his laughter echoing each time you stumbled. He glided backward with ease, as if showing off his skills, all while ensuring you didn’t fall.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it,” he said after a few minutes, his tone light and encouraging.

You narrowed your eyes. “I think you’re just distracting me so I won’t notice how much you’re showing off.”

His grin widened. “Caught me. But admit it—you like the view.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave him a playful shove, though it barely moved him. He retaliated by spinning you in a circle, his hold on you firm as you shrieked.

Eventually, you both ended up at the center of the rink, the world around you fading into a blur of lights and laughter. Gojo lifted his blindfold just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his vibrant blue eyes, now crinkled with warmth as he looked at you.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” he said, leaning in slightly.

“Thanks to my show-off teacher,” you replied with a grin.

“Always happy to be of service.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before pulling you into another spin, his laughter mingling with yours as the night stretched on.

Geto suguru

The first flakes of snow began to fall as you tightened your scarf around your neck, glancing over at Suguru, who stood beside you, exuding a quiet calmness that always seemed to put you at ease. His long black hair was tied back, and his sharp features softened as he smiled at you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out a hand as you both approached the ice rink.

“Not really,” you admitted with a nervous laugh, eyeing the skaters gliding around. “I’m not great at this.”

Suguru chuckled, his warm breath visible in the cold air. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you steady.”

You took his hand and let him guide you onto the ice. His grip was firm and reassuring as you wobbled, gripping his arm for dear life.

“See? Not so bad,” he said, his voice low and comforting. He moved slowly, matching your hesitant pace.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, glancing at how effortlessly he moved across the ice, even while staying close to you.

Suguru leaned in, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just wanted an excuse to hold onto me.”

You shot him a playful glare. “As if you’re not enjoying being my personal crutch.”

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you even more. “Guilty. But I’ll take care of you—always.”

As you grew more confident, Suguru led you to the center of the rink, where the crowd thinned. The two of you glided side by side, your laughter mixing with the soft hum of holiday music.

When your legs started to tire, Suguru suggested a break. You sat together on a bench by the rink, your gloved hands holding warm cups of hot chocolate. He reached over to brush a snowflake from your hair, his touch gentle.

“See? You survived,” he teased, his smile warm.

“Thanks to you,” you admitted, leaning against his shoulder.

Suguru pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice a soft murmur. “Anytime, love. As long as it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere—even an ice rink.”

Nanami Kento

The winter chill brushed against your cheeks as you adjusted your scarf, watching Nanami lace up his skates with precision. His beige coat and signature tie stood out against the soft, snowy backdrop, and you couldn’t help but smile at how out of place he looked at the bustling, cheerful ice rink.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, glancing up at you with a slightly skeptical look. “You know I’m not one for… recreational chaos.”

You laughed, tugging on his arm. “It’s not chaos. It’s fun! Come on, Kento, you need a break from all your seriousness.”

With a resigned sigh, he allowed you to pull him toward the ice. The moment his skates hit the surface, he wobbled slightly, his usually impeccable composure cracking for a split second. You bit back a giggle as you held his hand.

“Don’t say a word,” he muttered, his voice calm but tinged with embarrassment.

“I didn’t say anything!” you teased, leading him forward slowly.

Despite his initial hesitance, Nanami quickly found his balance. His hand stayed firmly in yours, his grip protective as he made sure you didn’t stumble. He moved with surprising ease, his natural elegance shining through even on the ice.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He adjusted his glasses, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I may have gone once or twice. But only because someone convinced me it was good for bonding.”

“And was it?”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “It is now.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you tightened your hold on his hand. As the two of you glided across the rink, the festive lights reflected in his warm brown eyes, making him seem even more breathtaking than usual.

When you stumbled, his arm immediately circled your waist, steadying you. “Careful,” he said, his voice low but full of concern.

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Kento. You’re pretty good at this whole ‘not letting me fall’ thing.”

“I try,” he replied, his lips twitching into a rare, genuine smile.

After a while, you both retired to a nearby bench, sipping hot drinks as snow continued to fall around you. Nanami draped his scarf over your shoulders, ensuring you stayed warm.

“Thank you for convincing me to come,” he said, his tone softer now. “I don’t always allow myself to enjoy moments like this, but… I’m glad I did. With you.”

You leaned into him, your heart swelling with affection. “You deserve moments like this, Kento. And I’ll make sure you have them.”

His hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as the two of you sat there, basking in the quiet magic of the winter evening.

Toji fushiguro

The rink was alive with the sound of laughter and the glimmer of lights reflecting off the ice. Snowflakes fell softly, clinging to your coat as you adjusted your child’s scarf. Megumi stood between you and Toji, his small hands stuffed into his coat pockets, eyes scanning the rink with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Megumi pouted, glancing at the skates in Toji’s hands. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about this, squirt?” Toji asked, crouching down to Megumi’s level.

You chuckled, kneeling beside them. “He’s determined. Just like his dad.”

Toji smirked at your comment but shook his head. “Alright, tough guy. Let’s get you laced up.” He reached out to help Megumi, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he tied the skates securely.

Once everyone was ready, you made your way onto the ice. Toji, of course, stepped on effortlessly, moving with the confidence of someone who could master anything he tried. You wobbled slightly, but his hand was there in an instant, steadying you.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said, smirking. “Don’t want you taking me down with you.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Just focus on not showing off too much.”

Meanwhile, Megumi stood at the edge of the rink, gripping the railing with wide eyes. His little feet shuffled, but he wasn’t quite ready to move.

“Megumi, come on!” you called, extending your hand.

Toji skated over and crouched in front of him. “What’s wrong? Afraid you’ll fall?”

Megumi frowned, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “No… I just don’t want to look dumb.”

Toji chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Kid, no one cares what you look like. Besides…” He held out his hand. “You’ve got me and your mom. We won’t let you fall.”

Hesitant but trusting, Megumi grabbed Toji’s hand, and the three of you made your way onto the ice together.

Megumi clung tightly to both of you at first, his little legs trembling as he slid awkwardly over the surface. Toji encouraged him with gruff but kind words, while you cheered him on with every step he managed to take.

“You’re doing great, Megumi!” you said, smiling brightly.

“I’m not even skating,” he muttered, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Baby steps,” Toji said with a smirk, glancing down at his son. “You’ll be zipping around in no time.”

After a while, Megumi started to loosen up, his movements more confident. Toji even let go of his hand for a moment, skating backward to give him space. “Look at that! Told you you’d get it,” Toji said, his voice full of pride.

Megumi wobbled but managed to stay upright, his face lighting up with a rare smile. “I’m doing it!”

You laughed, clapping your hands. “See? You’re a natural!”

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and playful moments. Toji even surprised you by spinning you around on the ice, holding you close as you squealed. “Show-off,” you teased, but your heart swelled at how effortlessly he balanced being both playful and protective.

By the time you all left the rink, Megumi was bundled up and walking between the two of you, holding your hands. He was exhausted but happy, leaning his head against Toji’s side.

“You were right,” Megumi mumbled sleepily. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Toji chuckled, lifting him up into his arms. “Told you, kid. Your old man knows a thing or two.”

You smiled, resting your head on Toji’s shoulder as you walked back to the car, the three of you wrapped in the warmth of family and the magic of a winter evening.

Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna’s estate was eerily quiet as he lounged on his throne, the flickering light of torches casting shadows on the walls. He hadn’t seen you in hours, and though he didn’t show it, the absence of your usual presence was unsettling.

“Uraume,” he called, his deep voice reverberating through the hall.

Uraume appeared quickly, bowing their head. “Yes, my lord?”

“Where is she?” Sukuna’s tone was calm, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that brooked no excuses.

“I believe she went outside, my lord,” Uraume replied, hesitating slightly. “By the frozen pond.”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed, and without another word, he rose from his seat, his towering form exuding authority as he made his way outside.

The cold winter air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. His four eyes scanned the snow-covered grounds, his sharp senses quickly honing in on laughter—your laughter.

His lips curled into a smirk as he approached the pond, the sight before him catching him off guard. You were slipping and sliding across the ice, your movements clumsy but full of joy. Uraume stood at the edge, their usually stoic face softened with faint amusement as they watched you.

“Careful!” Uraume called when you nearly lost your footing, but you laughed it off, waving a hand.

“I’m fine! See? I can do this!” you replied, taking another step—only to slip and land on your back with a soft thud.

“Enjoying yourself, little one?” he drawled, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sukuna’s deep chuckle rumbled through the air, causing both you and Uraume to freeze. You turned your head, finding him standing at the edge of the pond, his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

Your cheeks flushed as you scrambled to sit up. “I… was just testing the ice,” you muttered, brushing snow off your clothes.

“Testing it, were you?” Sukuna stepped onto the ice effortlessly, his movements unnervingly graceful for someone his size. The ice groaned slightly under his weight, but it held firm as he strode toward you.

You blinked up at him, pouting. “You don’t have to make fun of me, you know.”

He crouched down in front of you, his sharp claws brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m not making fun,” he said, though the smirk on his lips betrayed him. “But I don’t recall giving you permission to wander off.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted softly, glancing away.

His smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of quiet intensity. “I always notice,” he said, his tone low but firm.

Before you could respond, Sukuna stood and held out a hand to you. “Come. If you insist on playing out here, at least let me make sure you don’t break your neck.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. He pulled you to your feet with ease, his grip steady as you wobbled on the ice.

“You’re actually helping?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though his smirk had returned.

Uraume watched silently, a faint smile tugging at their lips as Sukuna guided you across the ice, his usually commanding demeanor softened by your presence. For a moment, the cold winter night didn’t feel so harsh, the warmth of his rare affection wrapping around you like a blanket.

Megumi Fushiguro

The chill of the winter air was invigorating as you tugged on your skates, sitting on a bench by the ice rink. The twinkling lights strung overhead made everything feel magical, but what had you smiling the most was the sight of Megumi hesitantly tying his skates beside you.

“You look nervous,” you teased, nudging him gently.

“I’m not nervous,” he muttered, though his furrowed brow and the way he was double-checking the laces on his skates said otherwise.

Once he finished, you stood and held out your hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

He looked up at you, his dark eyes full of doubt. “You know I’m not good at this.”

“That’s the point! You’ll have me to help you,” you replied with a grin, giving his hand a little tug.

With a resigned sigh, Megumi let you pull him onto the ice. The moment his skates touched the surface, his legs wobbled precariously, and he gripped your arm like his life depended on it.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” he muttered, glaring at the ice as if it had personally wronged him.

“Because you love me,” you said cheekily, trying not to laugh as he stumbled again.

He huffed but didn’t argue, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

You moved slowly, holding his hands as you guided him across the ice. Every few steps, he would slip or falter, but you were always there to catch him.

“Megumi, you’re so stiff,” you said after a while, laughing. “Relax a little!”

“If I relax, I’ll fall,” he grumbled, his shoulders hunched as he concentrated on staying upright.

“You’re going to fall if you keep overthinking it!”

As if to prove your point, his skate caught on a groove in the ice, and he stumbled forward. You tried to catch him, but his weight sent both of you toppling over, landing in a heap on the ice.

For a moment, there was silence, and then you burst into laughter. “See? Not so bad!”

Megumi groaned, propping himself up on his elbows. “Speak for yourself,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

You reached out and booped his nose. “You’re doing great, Megumi. Really. I mean, you’ve only fallen once!”

“That’s once too many,” he said, rolling his eyes but letting you help him back up.

As the night went on, he started to loosen up a bit, though his movements were still far from graceful. You skated circles around him, giggling as he grumbled about how unfair it was.

“Stop showing off,” he said, though there was no real bite in his tone.

“Come on, you’re getting better!” you said, skating back to him and holding out your hands. “Trust me.”

He hesitated for a moment before taking your hands. His grip was firm, but he let you pull him forward, his balance improving little by little.

By the end of the night, he was still far from a pro, but he managed to skate a few feet without holding onto you. “See? You’re a natural,” you said, beaming at him.

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t deny it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe. But I think I’ll stick to solid ground next time.”

You laughed, leaning into his side as you both sat down to take off your skates. “Fair enough. But admit it—you had fun.”

He glanced at you, his eyes softening. “Yeah… I guess I did.”

Yuji Itadori

The winter air was crisp as you arrived at the rink with Yuji, his excitement practically radiating off him. He’d been talking about this all week, hyping up his “hidden skating talent,” though you had your doubts.

“I’ve got this,” Yuji said confidently as he tugged on his skates. His grin was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how determined he looked.

“You sure? You don’t even know if you’re good at skating,” you teased, lacing up your own skates.

“I’m good at pretty much everything!” he replied, puffing out his chest dramatically.

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Alright, Mr. Natural Talent. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The moment Yuji stepped onto the ice, his confidence wavered. His arms flailed as his skates slid in opposite directions, and you had to grab his arm to keep him from falling.

“Hidden talent, huh?” you said, grinning as you steadied him.

“It’s just… slippery!” he defended, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Give me a second!”

Yuji held onto the railing with a death grip as you skated beside him, your laughter filling the air. “You’re so bad at this!” you teased, watching as he carefully tried to push off with his skates, only to nearly fall again.

“I’m just warming up!” he insisted, though his wobbly movements said otherwise.

After a while, you decided to help him out, skating backward in front of him and holding his hands. “Okay, let’s try this. I’ll guide you.”

He looked at your hands, then back at you, his expression softening. “You sure? I don’t wanna crush you if I fall.”

You smiled. “I’ve got you, Yuji. Trust me.”

With your help, he started to find his balance. His grin returned as he managed a few steps without slipping. “Hey, look! I’m doing it!”

“You are!” you cheered, matching his pace. “See? You’re not hopeless after all.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, laughing.

As the night went on, Yuji got more comfortable, though he was still far from graceful. He occasionally tried to show off, attempting a spin or a quick glide, but it always ended with him flailing or falling. You couldn’t stop laughing, especially when he’d pop back up with an exaggerated “I’m fine!”

At one point, he slipped and accidentally pulled you down with him. You both landed in a heap on the ice, laughter spilling out as you tried to untangle yourselves.

“This is not how I imagined skating would go,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“But it’s fun, right?” you said, leaning against him as you caught your breath.

He looked at you, his cheeks pink but not from the cold. “Yeah. It’s perfect,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced with something more sincere.

You smiled, leaning closer. “Even if you’re terrible at it?”

He chuckled, bumping his forehead gently against yours. “Especially because I’m terrible at it. Gives me an excuse to stick close to you.”

By the end of the night, neither of you had mastered skating, but it didn’t matter. You left the rink hand in hand, the cold winter air feeling a little warmer with him by your side.

[mqrrstarr]

Gladiator Headcanons! (1/?)

How the Characters would act if you: Had A Cold!

Character x GN! Reader

Warnings: s3x implied

Characters Featured: Maximus, Lucilla, Commodus, Acacius, Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Macrinus (edited: I never actually wrote anything for him but I did now)

A/N: First Tumblr post in a while, and I'm actually writing things too! This is the first time I've written elaborate headcanons, so please forgive if they seem a little off. I apologize for any historical/character innacuracies, and I hope to get better!! xoxo -mqrrstarr

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Maximus would immediately notice something is off. You kept complaining about a headache that didn’t seem to stop, and your temperature was high. 

“Darling, I don’t think you should fight today…”

You could only cough in response, and the guards wouldn’t let you rest. As the day’s challenge was fighting in pairs, he rapidly volunteered to fight with you. Maximus protected you from the other gladiators, and killed them as fast as you could sneeze. By the end of the day, Maximus gave you his blanket and other amenities, ushering you to a more comfier cell. (He had placed a bet with another gladiator.)

“There darling, rest up nice and easy.”

I can also see Maximus getting the other gladiators to create a soup/stew sort of mixture. Not good. But he’s very fatherly, if you can get that?

- - - - - - - -

Lucilla knows everything. After taking care of Lucius as a child, she can rapidly tell when you’re not feeling well.

“Sweetie? Do you feel alright?”

She’d do the mom thing, put her hand on your forehead and try to figure out what was wrong with you. Your head was practically boiling, so she’d get her servants to make tea, lay you in her triclinium and keep you company.

“The servants will prove useful sweetie. You’re a strong warrior, so keep hanging on.”

She’d hum a lullaby, read poetry (the same she’d read to Lucius) and tell stories until you fell asleep. 

- - - - - - - -

Commodus was rarely comforted growing up, so he knew how to handle sickness easily. Growing up semi-independent, he knew homemade tricks and tips to feel better.

“Y/N, are you not feeling well? Just get some herbs and drink an elixir. You’ll be fine.”

He realizes that he sounds a bit harsh, and reminds himself that he never wants to treat you how he was treated; with solitude and no gratitude. Commodus gets you all the snacks and food you want, and even hugs you for as long as you want. 

When you question him after it’s been a whole afternoon of him on your chest, he simply says,

“Y/N, do not question the Emperor. I wish to lay with you, and I do not fear sickness. The Gods can protect one of their own.”

He keeps hugging you and falls asleep, and the next day you’re both coughing and sneezing. 

- - - - - - - -

Acacius has been through so many battles and massacres, yet he’s never truly encountered a cold. The soldiers that cough, are usually dead. Coughing up their own blood, that is. He really doesn’t know how to help you properly, but he’ll try his best.

“Angel, can you tell me what’s wrong? I’m not really sure what to do. Should I get a doctor? Are you feeling a certain way?”

and as he says this, Acacius would use his hands to caress yours, and treat you even more like a princess/prince. He’d lay you in his own bed, and give you massages until you’d feel better. He’d also do a little more if you’d want. Iykyk. You’d fall asleep quickly, and you’d wake up to Acacius either next to you, or on a chair by the bedside and he’d be all sprawled out. His soldier senses would wake him up though.

“Angel? Angel? You’re all right now, that’s wonderful. My lovely Venus, you’re all healed.”

And his words, he would seal with a forehead kiss. GOD HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART I NEED PEDRO PASCAL

- - - - - - - -

Caracalla had his own sickness, the one of syphilis. His wild mentality usually was what kept him going, and the love of ruling over Rome. Yet the Emperor cared for his significant other, and refused to let anyone else; even his closest servants touch you.

“My Wife/Husband, the most holiest of them all, I shall take care of you. Please tell me what your most vivid desires are? Allow me to assist you.”

He’s such a sweetheart, and he’d definitely tell you so many stories of him and Geta in their childhood, Roman mythology, and anything to keep you entertained. As he also has mommy and daddy issues, he also do a Commodus-esque move and lay on your chest and probably fall asleep first haha. When the both of you awake, he'd hear your stomach rumble.

“You’re hungry? Well then I shall feed you. Anything for you my love.”

He’d keep you filled with food and him to help your weak state. (CARACALLA COME HOME THE KIDS AND I MISS YOU)

- - - - - - - -

Geta was always stressed.  Getting much more to do as Emperor, as Caracalla had his own “duties” to fulfill. When you started coughing and sneezing as you strolled in the palace garden, he’d send the servants away to prepare a room where you could quarantine. As much as he loved you, he’d refuse to get sick. (Rome needs a healthy representation.) So you’d be alone the first few days with the occasional knock on the door. When you seemed less sick than before, he’d spend all the time with you.

“My love? I’m here for you. The Gods have finally allotted time for our get together. It will be only the finest in Rome for the night; us.”

He’d definitely turn the situation into a fun (fucking) night and then the days after that would be a cycle of laying together, fine dining meals, and caressing. (your bodies, of course.) When he has to return to his Emperor duties, he’ll leave with a long romantic and passionate kiss, one that made your entire body warm.

“Won’t be long. I’ll be back in the night.”

(if you couldn't tell i love the idea of geta as needy all the time)

- - - - - - - -

Lucius knew what it was like to feel sick and tired constantly, so he took care of you. Like a shepherd tending to his favorite sheep. Both of you grand warriors and gladiators, so there was no time to feel bad. He reassured you he could fight without you, and vowed to come back every time.

“Dearest, I promise to return safely. I couldn’t leave my soul with you, it has to be me truly here always. I vow on our love to fight for freedom and the peace of Rome. I will also fight for you.”

You trusted Lucius, (WHO WOULDN’T WITH THOSE BLUE EYES) and he is a man of his word. Day after day, you slowly healed and was able to rejoin Lucius and the others again.

“See? I knew you’d heal. The Gods give power to those who are great. And you are great.”

You fought as usual, but he’d still protect you a little more to ensure you were actually okay. 

- - - - - - - -

Macrinus would see you and get together some gladiators in your presence, hoping they would entertain you and help you ignore the pain.

“Sickness is nothing but temporary Y/N. You can and have the power to move on.”

You’d take his advice and eventually keep doing your work as his assistant, and he’d make sure you were well taken care of.

“Y/N? A true warrior does not dawdle. Good job keeping up with your tasks.”

Surprisingly, you were able to keep up with work and healed faster than expected. (THERE I WROTE FOR MACRINUS)

[cosmicpearlz]

christmas wishes and kisses

summary: he was determined to confess tonight. preferably under the mistletoe, but the universe had other plans.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

jude can count on both hands, how many times he's lost y/n in the crowd. one too many times for his liking. the annual christmas party that vini threw was in full swing. from member of real madrid being there to other celebrities and friends. but all jude wanted was alone time with y/n. something he couldn't get for the life of him tonight.

"you find her yet?" jobe clasps his hand onto jude's shoulder. the older boy sighs and shakes his head.

"no! i haven't seen her since she was talking to luka's wife."

"you had a whole plan though, right?”

"yes, i was supposed to bring her to one of the spare rooms that vini has and when we stand under the door, the mistletoe is gonna be there. then, i was planning on telling her how i felt."

"well don't give up now brother. there's still time."

-

you were nursing your second drink. originally coming to the party just to see jude. possibly hangout with him. and who knows, maybe even score a kiss or two. you've always liked the boy ever since you met him. remembering the way you guys became quick friends after he accidentally hit you with the door that he was walking out of. Jude refused to leave your side, 'in case something happens', is what he kept saying.

"livie, have you seen jude?" you yell over the loud music. your best friend shakes her head.

"no, i haven't. i did hear that he's looking for you too!" your heart skipped a beat.

"i'll just continue my search for him. if you see him before I do, let him know that I'm looking for him please."

"sure thing babes," olivia squeezes your shoulder and nods. you place your hand on hers, giving a light squeeze back before making your way around the house again. this time heading towards the kitchen area.

-

moving through bodies started to become exhausting. jude was starting to give up. the boy can't remember how many people he's ran to anymore, but he knew that it wasn't the person he wanted to see. heading to the kitchen with his head down, he bumps into another body.

"sorry," jude mutters, still not looking up from the ground.

"we've gotta stop meeting like this." the boy's head perks up, hearing the familiar voice. the one person he's wanted to be alone with the entire night.

"sorry y/n. i didn't see you there."

"yeah, too busy looking at the ground. heard you were looking for me though," you smiled brightly at the boy.

"can i show you something?" jude blurred out before he could think twice. the night had been long enough, and this conversation was long over due.

"lead the way, golden boy."

jude grabs your hand, leading upstairs. vini had sectioned that part of the house off. the music becoming slightly muffed. it was perfect and away from the crowd.

"what's going on jude?" you asked, as he stopped in front of a door. you gazed at him with confusion in your eyes.

"y/n, i don't regret hitting you with that door when we first met."

"hey! that's rude," you jokingly pushed his shoulder.

"what i mean is that i'm grateful to have you in my life. you're the best person to be around and i want to soak up every moment with you, just to bottle in it a jar and keep it forever. there aren't enough words to describe how you make me feel," jude grabs both of your hands and holds them gently in his.

"what i'm about to say may ruin our friendship. but i must put it out there. i really like you." you giggled and squeezed his hands softly.

"i really like you too. i'm so glad you said that!"

"no y/n, i like you. as in like like you."

"jude are we in middle school? i really like you too is what i'm trying to tell you!"

"ohh."

"yeah, ohh," you playfully mocked him, still sporting a small smile. jude begins to smile and looks towards to the celling. you follow his eyes. finding mistletoe hanging on the doorway.

"did you plan this?"

"maybe. do you like it?"

"it's corny." jude becomes bashful and looks down. almost pulling his hands from yours, before you tighten the grip you had on his.

"that doesn't mean i don't like it. i think you're very sweet and romantic. confessing your feelings for me under the mistletoe."

"can i kiss you?"

"i've only been waiting for a couple of months now," you grin up at him. the boy matches your grin, pulling you into a kiss. certainly, this was long overdue, but it was completely worth the wait.

[robo-writing]

Hi robo! I had an awful birthday yesterday and I was wondering if you could write some cute birthday fluff with reader x logan? 🥹 Like maybe she has a rly bad day where things don’t go as planned but Logan gives her a little cake or something and they spend the night together because he wants to make it better for her 🥹 ik it’s a big request so no pressure! 🫶

I’m sorry about your birthday anon, hopefully the rest of your week is better!

Thinking about how your day went almost makes you want to laugh, but not in a funny way; more like a “how the hell can it get worse” kind of way.

By the time you get home your feet are dragging across the floor. Trains acting up, bitchy manager—hell, even your local lunch spot ran out of your favorite order. So much for a happy birthday. The past 24 hours have been such a drain on you mentally that you don’t register Logan’s voice when you walk inside.

Your minds a mess, a metaphorical cloud hanging over your head as you side-step him, immediately walking to your bedroom. You hear him call your name from behind, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? More than anything, you want to lie down and just sleep.

You strip yourself haphazardly, not really caring that your clothes pile up on the floor, before falling face first onto your mattress. Maybe a nap will help you forget.

“Sweetheart?” Logan calls, and you’re guessing that he’s standing by the door because you don’t hear his footsteps come closer. The worry is evident in his voice, and as much as you hate to make him worry you really can’t find it in yourself to speak right now.

“You alright?” He says, and you groan in response.

“Okay, not alright then,” he hums, and finally sits himself beside you. “Talk to me.”

It takes you a while to muster up the words, but he’s patient with you, a luxury you can’t say he affords anyone else. “Had a bad day is all.”

“Sounds like more than just a bad day.”

“…had a bad birthday.”

“Ahh, there it is,” he sighs, putting a hand against your back. “Explains why you never noticed my present.”

You turn your head to him, looking up curiously. “Present?”

Logan nods his head in return. “Mhm. Decorated the whole living room for you. Looks like a clown threw up in there.”

The faintest smile graces your face, tinged with guilt at how callous you’ve been. You know how Logan struggles with emotion, and having you ignore his efforts probably felt like a slap to the face.

You reach your hand out, letting your fingers drum against his. “I’m sorry Lo’, didn’t mean it.”

“Got nothin’ to be sorry about,” he answers, kissing the top of your head. “When you feel better, we can go downstairs and give you a real birthday celebration, okay?”

[wendichester]

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚ it's beginning to look a lot like,

summary. your first christmas with the winchesters and dean's determined to make it special.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 671.

Dean Winchester doesn't do Christmas. Sure, there were a few short-lived attempts with Sam when they were kids—even adults—a couple of gifts wrapped in newspaper and a scraggly gas station tree—but nothing like the kind of Christmas you deserve.

That's why, this year, he's determined to make it special.

You blink in surprise as he pulls in front of the local Christmas tree farm, the Impala rumbling softly under the twinkling lights strung across the lot. Rows of evergreens stretch out in every direction, the faint scent of pine drifting through the air, making you completely miss the nervous wreck that Dean is in.

You turn to him, brows furrowing in confusion. “Are we... stealing firewood?”

Dean snorts, already stepping out of the car. “Real funny. No, we’re getting a tree.”

Your jaw drops slightly as you follow him, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound for a moment. “You? Picking out a Christmas tree? Who are you, and what have you done with Dean Winchester?”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he teases, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the rows of evergreens. “I’m just a guy trying to impress his girl.”

The warmth in his words sends a little flutter through your chest, but you mask it with a casual sass. “Oh, now you decide to be a romantic?”

“Hey, I’m romantic all the time,” he defends, feigning offense. “I bought you pie last week, didn’t I?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Sure, Romeo. Let’s find a tree before you freeze to death.”

The two of you wander through the rows. Dean critiques every tree like he’s auditioning them for a pageant.

“This one?” you ask, pointing to a squat, bushy pine.

“Too short.”

“What about that one?”

“Too bald on the sides.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair. “How the hell are trees this complicated?”

“They’re not,” you say with a grin, stopping in your tracks as you spot it. “But this one? This one’s perfect.”

Dean follows your gaze to a tall, full fir, its branches evenly spaced and glistening faintly under the lights. “Huh,” he says, tilting his head. “Not bad. Just like you—nice to look at, but probably a pain to handle.” That earns him a smack in the arm.

You watch as he kneels by the trunk, the muscles in his back and arms flexing with each axe. His T-shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin, and you can’t help but stare.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks, not even looking up.

“Depends,” you quip. “Are you gonna need my help, or are you good to finish all by yourself?”

Dean chuckles, his voice low and amused. “Oh, I can finish just fine, sweetheart. But with your help, it's always better.”

Your cheeks flush deeper, and you huff, crossing your arms. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning as the tree finally topples over. “But I’m your jerk.”

The drive back to the bunker is warm and comfortable, the tree strapped securely to the roof while Dean’s hand rests on your thigh. His thumb traces lazy circles on your skin.

Once inside the bunker, Dean hauls the tree to the war room, setting it down with a flourish. “There. What do you think?”

You step closer, pretending to scrutinize it. “Hmm... It’s a little crooked.”

Dean groans, pinning you with an exasperated look. “It’s not crooked.”

You laugh, leaning up on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. “Relax, I'm kidding.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer. “Now, how about you and me...” His voice drops, his lips brushing your ear. “...hang some mistletoe?”

Your breath catches as you meet his mischievous gaze. “Only if you promise to behave,” you tease.

He smirks, tilting his head as his thumb brushes your side. “Oh, c'mon sweetheart, where’s the fun in that?”

The soft glow of the lights fills the room as he kisses you, slow and sweet, the tree standing tall behind you. For once, Christmas feels like home.

taglist ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ֶָ֢ @deans-daydream

[mrsarnold]

im begging for another sevika fic for the advent thingy PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE IDC WHICH PROMPT JUST PLEASE

021. underneath the tree ! . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

syn : decorating with sevika

pair : sevika x fem!reader

warn : fluffy fluff, mix of two prompts

note ; muhahah

It’s a chilly evening in Zaun, and the dim lights of your shared apartment cast a warm glow across the room. The faint sound of holiday music plays in the background as you string up garlands and fairy lights, much to Sevika’s chagrin. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, an unimpressed look etched into her face.

“Do we really need all this?” Sevika mutters, eyeing the glittery decorations with mild disdain.

You pause, hands still tangled in the string of lights. “Oh, don’t be such a grinch,” you tease, shooting her a playful grin.

Sevika lets out a deep sigh, her expression unchanging. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“Of course, I was going to say that. Look at you,” you say, gesturing dramatically to her sulking figure. “You’re standing there with that pouty face, acting like this is torture. It’s festive, Sev. You could at least try to enjoy it.”

“I’m not pouting,” she grumbles, shifting her weight. “And I’m not a grinch. I just don’t see the point in all this… fluff.”

You roll your eyes, setting the lights aside as you approach her. Placing your hands on her shoulders, you force her to look down at you. “The point is to have fun. To make this place feel cozy and… I don’t know, cheerful. Zaun’s dark enough without your brooding adding to it.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying to hold back a smirk. “Cheerful, huh? You think stringing up lights and hanging garlands is going to make me cheerful?”

“It’s a start,” you reply, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Besides, if you help me finish, I’ll make your favorite hot chocolate after. Extra marshmallows.”

That earns a small huff of laughter from Sevika. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Sevika shakes her head, the faintest smile breaking through her tough exterior. “Fine. But if I step on one of these damn ornaments, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” you say, dragging her toward the pile of decorations. “Now grab those baubles and start helping. And try to look like you’re having fun.”

Sevika groans but picks up a garland, muttering something under her breath about how you’re lucky she puts up with this. But the way her eyes soften as she watches you laugh and hum along to the music tells you that maybe, just maybe, she’s not as grinchy as she pretends to be.