#fly tying studio

[uroborom]

Large - Garage

Inspiration for a large rustic detached boathouse remodel

[prettyboypadfoot]

Rustic Garage Inspiration for a large rustic detached three-car boathouse remodel

[serasalvatore]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚. PIROUETTE !

single dad!jh86 x ballerina!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. mentions of single parenthood, brief emotional vulnerability, mild language, lots of fluff, found family themes.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you’ve been teaching ballet for a few years, but no student ever made quite the same impact as winnie hughes, she’s a chatty six-year-old with wild curls, energy, and stories about her superhero dad. you’ve never met him, never seen him at drop-off, but you’ve heard plenty about he’s good at skating, he makes the best grilled cheese, and he’s apparently okay with winnie calling her ballet teacher her bestfriend ever. and then one day, he shows up and asks you to be his date to a wedding, because winnie refuses to go unless you’re there. maybe it starts with ballet slippers and a flower girl dress, but where it goes next… well, that’s a story still being written.

𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒚𝒏. an ask for everything, you can send questions, recommend fics, self-promo, or even share your thoughts on my work.

002 ↦

winnie hughes never walks — she twirls.

everyweek, she bursts into the studio in her glittery pink leotard, ballet shoes in one hand and a lopsided bun already falling apart on her head. she always greets you the same way,

“hi miss y/n!!” l like you’re the highlight of her entire day.

kind ellen, her grandmother or sometimes a sweet neighbor lady named sandy, drops her off and waves through the window before leaving. and yet every single week, winnie talks about her dad like he’s a legend.

you’ve never seen her dad. only know his name is jack hughes and nothing more.

“my daddy skates sooo fast. faster than lightning.”

“he used to be on tv! and he says ballet is even harder than hockey.”

“daddy said he tried to do a plié once and fell on his butt.”

you smile at each story. you learn that her dad makes blueberry pancakes every saturday. that he once let winnie wear his jersey to school because she spilled orange juice on her favorite dress. that he tells her bedtime stories in funny voices, even when he’s tired.

and then, one rainy tuesday, while tying the ribbon on her slipper, winnie says it casually.

“i told daddy you’re my bestfriend ever, miss y/n.”

you glance up in surprise. “you did?”

she nods with a grin. “yup. i said, ‘miss y/n teaches me to fly with my feet.’ and he said that was a very nice thing to say.”

your heart swells in your chest.

then comes the day he walks into the studio.

you’re cleaning up after class, stacking mats, helping a student zip her coat when the door creaks open. for a split second, you think maybe sandy came early today.

but instead, it’s him.

tall, blue-eyed, a little unsure as he steps inside, one hand shoved in his hoodie pocket. his hair is tousled like he’s run his fingers through it too many times. and winnie? winnie lights up like she’s powered by sunshine.

“dadaaa!” she squeals, running toward him and nearly tackling him at the knees.

jack hugs her back without missing a beat, lifting her effortlessly.

“hey, bug.”

then she turns in his arms and gestures right at you with a dramatic flair.

“look, dada, that’s miss y/n! my bestfriend that i told you about!”

you blink, a little stunned. your cheeks warm as jack’s gaze meets yours.

his smile is crooked and gentle. “so you’re the famous miss y/n.”

“and you must be the skating superhero,” you say, still caught off guard.

he chuckles, the sound low and kind. “she talks about you all the time.”

“she talks about you, too,” you admit.

he nods, there’s a pause just long enough to feel the buzz of something unspoken and then he clears his throat.

“so… this might be kind of weird,” he says, “but my cousin’s wedding is this weekend. and winnie’s supposed to be the flower girl.”

you nod politely, unsure where this is going.

jack glances at winnie. “she told everyone she wasn’t going unless you were there.”

you blink. “me?”

“yeah. she told the whole family. says you’re her best friend and she wants to dance with you at the party. and she might’ve said… you were coming already.”

you look at winnie, who grins like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“so,” jack continues, “would you maybe come? as my date. or guest. or emotional support ballerina. whatever works.”

you smile, soft and a little amused. “well… how can i say no to my bestfriend?”

the wedding is held at a beautiful vineyard just outside of the city. you wear a dress that makes you feel light and graceful, and when winnie sees you, her eyes widen like you’re a princess from one of her storybooks.

“you look like a fairy, miss y/n!”

jack, beside her, just stares for a second too long.

“thanks,” he says, finally, clearing his throat. “for coming. really.”

winnie doesn’t leave your side the whole afternoon.

you help her tuck flowers into her basket before the ceremony. you hold her hand when she gets nervous walking down the aisle. you cheer the loudest when she nails her toss of petals and runs back to the front row giggling.

jack keeps glancing your way like he’s watching something unfamiliar and comforting all at once.

people make assumptions.

“oh, you must be jack’s girlfriend!”

“are you winnie’s mom? you two look so close!”

you always smile, always say the same thing. “no, i’m just her ballet teacher.”

but the word “just” doesn’t feel quite right.

you hold winnie’s shoes when she wants to dance barefoot. you braid her hair when it gets messy. you wrap her in your cardigan when the night breeze picks up and she starts to yawn. she falls asleep leaning on your shoulder and you don’t move not even when your arm goes numb.

jack eventually walks over and sits beside you. he looks at her, then at you.

“she’s usually pretty shy at these things,” he says quietly. “but… not tonight.”

you glance down at winnie, breathing softly, hand still curled around yours.

“she’s such a nice little girl,” you whisper.

he nods. “she is.”

there’s a stretch of silence. the lights above you glow gold and soft.

“you’re really good with her,” jack says after a moment.

“i love being around her,” you reply honestly.

he doesn’t say anything else, but the way he looks at you, don’t know what this is yet.

you don’t know if it’s something or just a lovely moment made of lace and laughter and winnie’s sunshine smile. but when jack helps you carry her to the car and buckles her in gently, then opens the door for you, you feel something slow, something warm.

and maybe it’s the start.

[nozhdyved]

hella good - t.d.

contains: nsfw. 4.7k words, workplace rivalry, ballet teacher!fem!reader x jazzfunk teacher!tashi, intoxication (alcohol), reader is sort of stuck up and tashi puts her in her place, f!receiving oral, fingering, pussy slapping, not rlly degradation but tashi talks down to reader a lot, the smalllllest bit of impact play

notes: i've had this fic in my drafts for AAAAAGES i just got so scared of writing the smut. umm plz give me tips if this isnt good I rlly wanna learn hwo to write it... shoutout ty ( @forgetmenotnympho ) for helping me w transitions GAWD BLESS!!!!!! ya this dynamic was super fun to write so i hope u enjoyyyy :) btw the instrumental song when tash and reader and sessioning is agora hills instrumental Oh ts heat

taglist: @girliism, @imperishablereverie, @faiztheap, @musingsofheaven, @yardofbrunettes, @forgetmenotnympho, @sweetheartfaist, @sweetestfaiszts, @hangels . click here to be added !

listen while you read

The soft lilting melody of a piano version of some random pop song played on the speakers, and you watch in satisfaction as all your students plié in sync, and with ease. You’ve trained them well, you know that, and it fills you with pride to watch their every movement, graceful and put together. The music ceases and you nod, dismissing them for a short water break. You’re leaning against the barre, scrolling through songs to play for across-the-floor when you hear it.

Loud music, blaring, shooting into your ears and electrifying your soul. It’s angry and thrashy, and for some reason, it just makes you mad. Pisses you off to no end. You set your phone down and mutter some vague combination for your students to do as you leave the studio, heading down the hallway to the bigger studio.

It’s empty, save for one person, dancing in the center of the room. Her baggy t-shirt slips off one shoulder, revealing golden brown skin, and her curls were flying wildly in the air, as if attacking someone. She dances with a jagged edge, like wielding a weapon, her body angular as she kicks and drags her feet around. There’s worn holes at the heels of her half-soles, threadbare from usage. She’s moving flowy like water one second and sharp like the edge of a blade the next. It’s mesmerizing. It’s horrible. It’s beautiful.

You’re so engrossed in watching her movements that you nearly forget what you were here to do in the first place. Plastering a scowl across your face as you knock your knuckles against the doorframe, you wait for her to take notice. She pauses in her movements, a slight frown on her face as she crosses the room to pause the music. You’re dressed in your leotard and tights, hair pulled back in a tight bun, soft cardigan covering your shoulders. You don’t seem exactly well-equipped to be one of her students. “Can I help you?” she asks, leaning her hip against the sound system.

You bite your lip and look over her. She’s breathing hard from exertion, her skin glowy with a sheen of sweat. She tugs the shoulder of her shirt back up, adjusting the waistband of her basketball shorts. “Your music is too loud,” you say coolly.

She raises her eyebrows, laughing a bit. “Is it?” she counters, checking her phone. “What, you don’t fuck with No Doubt?”

You purse your lips and shake your head stiffly, looking out into the lobby. “Language. There’s kids here,” you chastise gently, though it’s obvious that you’re frustrated. You’ve never been good with secrets.

She leans closer, a smug grin on her lips. “There aren’t. I’ve checked the schedule. It’s just the senior Ballet class, and then my senior class.” She cocks her head, looking you up and down. You feel exposed under her scrutinizing gaze, face flushing. “You’re the Ballet teacher, huh? I’m Tashi. I’m new. Jazz Funk.”

You resist the urge to scoff. Jazz Funk. Barely even a style, not even recognized in the majority of the competitions that your studio went to. You just saw it as an excuse to shake ass onstage without getting in trouble. You were a firm believer in the foundations of dance– Ballet, Jazz, Tap, the like, not all this new fusion stuff. “Jazz Funk,” you repeat, voice dripping with condescension. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tashi, and since you’re new, I won’t put this on file. But please don’t have your music cut into my class time.”

Tashi’s smile drops a bit. Just barely, at the corners, but you notice, and it fills you with pride. “You’re kidding, right?” she laughs, stepping closer to you. She’s taller than you, and when she towers over you, her curls get in your face. She smells good. “My music being loud doesn’t cut into your class time. Just close the door.”

You press your lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing. “Let’s compromise,” you offer, wanting to get back to your class. “Turn it down. And I’ll close the door. Win-win.” You wait for her response, trying to ignore the heady scent of her floral perfume and the way it invades your senses, invoking an odd feeling in your stomach. 

She rolls her eyes, and the feeling in your stomach just turns to annoyance. “Fine,” she relents, storming back over to the speaker and dialing the volume down, making a big show of it. “You happy?”

You can’t help but sneer, your lip pulling back as you watch her make a dramatic production of just turning down the volume. “Ecstatic,” you grit out, shutting the door behind you as you head back to your class. 

You re-enter your studio, trying to regain the sense of calm that had dissipated when Tashi’s music had started playing, watching as your students do waltzes across the floor. Perfect and pristine, not a toe out of line. Just like you expected, and what you craved. Outside, Tashi’s music begins playing again. Loud and blaring. You grit your jaw and close the door.

Your class has ended, and you watch as your students all file off to change for Tashi’s class. Some skip changing altogether, just pulling on a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt over their leotard, while others wait in line for the changing room. You hear the same song playing from the studio and watch from the doorway as she begins teaching.

Your students have taken their hair out from stiff buns, and you watch as they laugh and whip their hair around, showing a completely different side than you usually see in your ballet class. It’s odd to see them, going from uptight to relaxed in a matter of seconds, just in a switch of teachers. They hoot and holler as Tashi shows the combination she’s teaching, whistling when she freestyles, and you watch warily. You can’t help the sting of dejection when you see the absolute glee on your student’s faces as they learn from her, the studio filled with laughter and chatter. Nothing like the calm silence of your class. You just huff and turn away, settling behind the front desk and beginning your work on social media. It was just a different genre. That’s all.

Her class gets out after an hour, and you’re giving your students a small smile as a goodbye as they file out of the studio, leaving just you and Tashi. You’re finishing up your work behind the front desk when she emerges from the changing rooms, changed out of her sweaty t-shirt and shorts and in a more comfortable looking outfit of wide-legged sweatpants and a pale green tank top. She’s not wearing a bra, and you can tell by the way her nipples poke out from the thin fabric of her tank top. You focus your gaze back onto your laptop, face flushed.

“Hey.” She’s parked right in front of you, leaning over the counter. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, swooping just along the nape of her neck. “Listen, I think we started off on the wrong foot,” Tashi says quietly, her warm brown eyes connecting with yours. “And I don’t wanna start a new job like this.”

You nod warily in agreement, watching her every move like a hawk hunting prey. “Are you proposing a solution?”

She snorts, shaking her head, and you frown. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’ve just… never met anyone who talks like you.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her face, a confident smile spreading across her lips. “Let’s just reset, huh? Blank slate.”

You’re nodding so much you feel like a bobblehead, a little too entranced by the way her lashes flutter at you and how the smell of her sweat mixes with the scent of her perfume. “Blank slate,” you agree. You close your laptop and stand up, sliding the device into your tote bag as you begin turning off the lights. “Welcome to the studio, Tashi.”

She grins at you, and you can see the gleam of her teeth through the darkness. She looks almost too smug. “It’s good to be here.” With her last words, she leaves, but not before brushing up against your arm gently, leaving the door swinging in her wake.

It’s been two months since she started working there, alongside you, and somehow, she’s only gotten on your nerves even more. Her music is always blasting obnoxiously loud, making your ballet dancers distracted with the prospect of what she’s teaching next. It’s always some sort of sensual pop, Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera. Despite the animosity, you always found yourself staying back after your class had finished, finding excuses for staying late just to watch her dance. The way her back arches tantalizingly as she slides across the wooden floor, or how her shorts ride low on her hips as she kicks her leg up high, performing a seamless developpé. Hmph. Your developpé is better.

Finally, her music pauses, and you sigh, preparing to flick off the light switch when a new song starts playing. Something a bit slower, still with sharp snares and a synth beat, but it’s different than her usual stuff. You peek in through the door to check on her, watching her improv with amazing musicality. It’s Turn Off The Light by Nelly Furtado– still in the same realm as her other pieces, but there’s something darker and more sincere in the way she moves, not just shaking ass.

You’re hypnotized watching her, jaw dropping as her ballet technique begins to show. A perfect pique turn into a back attitude, that leads her into a forward roll. She’s not just dancing to the music, she’s creating it. And you’re not sure what turns you on more, her shirt riding up to reveal her black lace bra, or the eighteen perfect fouettés she executes. You count them all.

Tashi catches your eyes as she keeps dancing, but instead of freezing up and stopping, she only seems to push herself harder, small pants escaping her lips as she exerts herself to her full potential, leaping higher than you could ever imagine. Jesus, her calves… the way she moves across the floor with such confidence and grace, and utter sexual magnetism. You need to close your jaw. 

The music fades, she’s laying on her back, chest heaving as she gulps down deep breaths. You’re watching the rise and fall of her body, the way her dark eyes land on you, watching, unblinking. You feel like a perv for snooping in on such a clearly intimate moment, and you turn away, ready to close–

“Stay.” Her voice is sharp and demanding, and you turn back around. Tashi’s beckoning for you to enter the studio, an eyebrow raised. “C’mon. Let’s session.”

A laugh escapes you, incredulous and doubtful. “You’re joking,” you snort, shaking your head. “You want me to session with you?” It’s impossible to even picture– you doing tendus and graceful jetés while she twerks around you. Nothing good could possibly come out of that.

Tashi rolls her eyes and leans back against her elbows, her toned stomach showing as her shirt rides up her torso. “I wanna session with you,” she repeats, her voice completely calm. “I think it’d be fun. And that we could make something good.”

You shake your head adamantly, a frown firmly glued to your face. “There’s no sessions in ballet. Everything’s planned,” you defend, just about ready to turn around.

“Come on.” She pushes up onto her feet, wiping sweat from her brow and grabbing her phone to play a song. An instrumental version of a Doja Cat song comes on, and your frown deepens. “We can make it ballet. Just… come dance with me.” Tashi begins swaying her hips gently, gracefully jetéing side to side as her arms float from first to fifth. You hate how perfect she is– at just about everything, it seems.

You drop your bag to the ground and slide off your shoes, your bare skin tacky on the wood floor. The music seems to carry you, and despite how much you try to resist, your leg seems to lift on its own, leaning you back as your arms raise above your head. Not in fifth. Not even in modern fifth. They’re just floating, moving with their own mind, and it feels good to let go. You turn and lower down into your middle splits, ignoring the hoot it draws from Tashi. It feels good to just close your eyes and go where your body takes you. It’s… new, interesting, but it didn’t feel bad.

It’s almost therapeutic in a sense. Ballet is your love, your entire passion, but it’s also a constant spotlight. To be able to move so freely, uncaring of Tashi watching or what your body is doing just puts your mind at ease. You watch as Tashi takes the baton and picks up where you leave off, the song picking up in pace and having more snares that you aren’t used to in ballet. It’s entrancing to watch her move so seamlessly, like the music is controlling her body. There’s a sudden pause in the song, where she freezes still, and then the beat starts again and she rolls onto the floor so abruptly, you swore her head was going to crack open. A gasp escapes your lips as she smoothly transitions the roll into an arch up, one leg poised delicately in the air that she catches behind her head. It’s fucking amazing, and you swear your panties are wet at the sight.

Tashi’s looking at you expectantly, and you realize it’s your turn– but how can you follow up something like that? It’s like comparing a cheese stick to a charcuterie board. She steps closer, the music still playing in the background. “Come on. Your turn,” she says, her voice quiet and gentle. Too sweet for your ears, you’re frozen in place, still in awe at the moves she had pulled out. If this was her improv, how beautiful was her choreography?

“Dude. Hey, c’mon.” Tashi’s right in front of you now, and you’re so awestruck you can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’t think. It’s just her and her dancing, the smell of her perfume wafting over you, surrounding you. She’s everything. The two of you lock eyes, and before you can even process it, she’s stepping closer and closer, and her perfectly lined lips are pressed firm against yours. Tashi’s arms encircle your waist as she swoops you to the ground, kissing you hungrily. And you kiss back.

It’s clashing teeth and tongue, quiet pants and grunts being exchanged as the scent of her sweat and perfume seems to cover you in a haze. She’s on top of you, cupping your face in both hands and pressing her chest to yours, a soft moan escaping her lips as you hesitantly squeeze her breasts. You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

You moan when she starts to kiss down your neck, conflicting feelings racing through your chest. “Mmh- Tashi- wait, wait wait wait-” You relax when she pulls off of you, trying to ignore the hurt on her face. “Sorry- I’m just- wow, um-” You push away from her, standing up on shaky legs. “I have to go.”

Tashi’s brows are furrowed in confusion and anger– and maybe a little hurt. “Do you?” she asks quietly, the music still playing lowly in the background. “Or are you scared?”

You shake your head, walking past her still sitting on the floor and you grab your bag, pausing at the doorway. “Goodnight, Tashi,” you say quietly, hurrying out of the studio. You hear her yell “pussy!” behind you, but you’re out the door once her frustration turns to tears.

You call in a substitute for the next few days, too scared to see Tashi and feel the brunt of her anger– or maybe you’re more scared of how much you hurt her. On your days off, you play some music and stand in front of a mirror, watching how your body moves of its own accord. Hips to the left, arms shooting up. There’s no form, but you’re still graceful and delicate. You can imagine Tashi’s hands around your waist, guiding your next movements with slick precision. You drop your arms back down to your side and sigh heavily, walking away.

Ballet was always the one thing you never strayed from. You’ve always loved the strict formality and uniform of the style, how everything goes where it’s supposed to be and there’s little tolerance of those who step out of line. Even now, smushed between people in a crowded club, your movements still find a way to be light and airy as the bumping bass of club music assaults your ears. You hate how good it feels to just let go and enjoy the sensations of your body moving on its own.

“Hey. Hey!” you yell at your friend, who’s currently grinding on some random guy. “I’m gonna get a drink,” you yell over the music, walking away before seeing if she even heard you. You approach the bar and order two vodka shots, nodding gratefully when they’re set in front of you in record time.

You’re about to toss one back when you see her. Her hair swishing around her waist and a skintight red dress, clinging to every curve and sharp edge of her body. A thin leather belt hangs loosely on her hips, the gold buckle glinting under the strobing lights. Glitter flashes along her cheekbones and her eyes are rimmed a smoky black, lips lined with crimson red. Her movements are reminiscent of the night that you two shared together, eyes closed in ecstasy as she dances freely. You wonder what it must feel like to live like that.

She catches your gaze when she opens her eyes, and if she’s shocked, it doesn’t show. You beckon to her with your shot glasses, a silent plea in your actions. Get over here. She breaks away from the crowd and heads your way, eyes narrowed when she takes the shot you offer her.

“Hey,” you begin, practically inaudible from the loud music of the club, “you look good.”

Tashi raises an eyebrow, a smug smile on her lips. “I know,” she murmurs into your ear, clinking your shot glasses together. The two of you throw them back at the same time, and your stomach turns when you see the lipstick mark left on her glass.

“I’m sorry,” you force out, watching as her expression grows tight. “About, um. You know.” You sigh heavily, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I think I’m intimidated by you.”

Her brows shoot up, and she laughs, loud and brash. The thump of basses turns to slick hi-hats and cymbals as a familiar song plays– Hella Good by No Doubt, the song Tashi was playing when you two first met. “Shut the fuck up,” she crows, shaking her head. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I’m- I mean, I’m serious,” you hurry to continue, not minding the word vomit now. “You’re just- your dancing is amazing, and you’re so beautiful, my students all like your classes better and I’d kill to dance as freely as you,” you ramble, not noticing how she seems to inch closer and closer to you. “Your technique and your talent�� I’m jealous, Tashi, I’m so fucking jealous, and-”

Her lips are on yours before you can even process it, and this time you don’t hesitate to kiss back. She tastes like peach lip gloss and bitter vodka, her lipstick smearing across your own lips. Tashi’s hands tangle into your hair to tug you closer, and you shamelessly palm at her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. It’s dirty and frantic, and again, you’re reminded of her dancing.

Tashi pulls away and is immediately pulling you away to the bathrooms, not caring as you trip over your heels. The bathroom is empty when you walk in, and she unbuckles her belt, tying one end to the door handle and the other around the sink faucet. She turns around to face you, lipstick smudged and eyes dark with lust. She advances toward you and practically sweeps you off your feet with a kiss, pinning you against the graffiti covered wall. It’s filthy– the setting you’re in and what you’re doing, but the feeling of Tashi firmly against you seems to have you in a trance, pliant and willing. Your hand moves up to slide the straps of her dress down her shoulders, trying to touch every exposed inch of soft skin. She does the same to you, pausing when there’s no bra strap appearing underneath the silky fabric of your dress.

“Really? No bra to go clubbing?” She kisses up and down your neck, sucking and biting harshly as she grips your hips, arousal already slicking up your thighs. “Jesus fuck, it’s like you’re begging for me to ruin you.” As much as you despise it, a shiver goes up your spine at her sultry words.

“You’re one to talk,” you grit out as your hands travel down her torso, feeling out every smooth dip. “You never wear a fuckin’ bra to work. It’s insane– God, like you were taunting me,” you growl as you squeeze her hips, rough and mean.

Tashi nips at your earlobe, grinning wickedly at the keening whimper it draws from you. “I was,” she whispers lowly, slipping the dress down your hips and letting it pool at your ankles. Your panties are already soaked through, the scent of arousal and floral perfume filling the space. She taps a manicured finger against the damp patch of cotton, cooing at the way your hips stutter and jump. “I saw you watching me.”

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as she pushes your panties aside, smacking your soaked heat gently with her palm. “Fucking wet, baby,” she mumbles, fruitlessly tugging the strap of her dress back on her shoulder as she kneels on the grimy floor, inhaling your slick scent. “You want me?” she asks, pulling your panties down your hips and letting them land on top of your crumpled dress.

You’re nodding before you even realize it, the loud guitar and bass booming from outside your private sanctuary. “I want it,” you gasp, already feeling weak in the knees at her hands on your thighs, spreading your legs apart further. “I want you, Tashi.”

That’s enough for her to begin kissing up your inner thigh, leaving lipstick marks along your smooth skin before she dives into your wet heat, her tongue circling your clit like she’s done this to you a thousand times. Her hands come up to press against your hips to force you from grinding into her mouth, and she laps at your pussy like a dog desperate for water.

“You taste,” she’s panting, wiping at her mouth before looking up at you with lustful eyes, “so fuckin’ good, baby. Like sugar.” She’s nosing in without a second thought, her own thighs clenching together with every moan she draws out from your chest. It’s something sacred, the way she revels in your body and absolutely worships it, taking in all your miniscule reactions. The strap of her dress slips back down and seems to crumple around her, yet not distracting her from her task, making you a whimpering, soaking mess.

Her breasts are exposed to the harsh glare of the lighting as the dress slides down her chest fluidly, not deterring her from taking you apart, bit by bit. “F-Fuck!” you grip her hair tightly as you buck your hips into her face. She’s tonguefucking you expertly, poking and prodding at every soft inch of you and moaning at the honeyed taste. One hand releases your hip to pinch gently at your clit, laughing at the way you mewl and try to break free. “Tashi, Tashi, please–”

“You can take it,” is all she says, cruel and dominating as she flicks it gently, causing your knees to almost buckle, legs trembling as you hold yourself up. She pulls away for a moment, licking her lips to make sure she gets every last drop of your sweet arousal. She lets go of you fully to stand back up, towering over you in her heels. “Good girl,” she murmurs, kissing you hard. You taste yourself on her lips, sweet and somewhat bitter, and it makes you moan and squeeze your sticky thighs together from just how depraved you’re being.

“I’ve been to so many studios,” Tashi whispers in your ear, one hand trailing down your bare chest and pausing under your navel, making you groan in frustration. “Met so many teachers,” she continues, her touch feather-light as she reaches your pussy, cupping it gently and letting slick soak into her palm. She lifts the hand up and licks her palm, looking down at you the whole time. Her hard nipples press right into your shoulder, and the way she’s looking at you is addictive.

“Hip-hop, contemporary, jazz… Even fucked around with a tap teacher once,” she murmurs, pinching at your nipples gently and laughing when you squeal, before returning her attention to your sensitive clit. “But I’ve never corrupted a pretty little ballerina like you before,” she keeps whispering, licking at your neck as she easily slides two fingers in, already pumping in and out. You’re shaking, spasming, and you can’t believe how good it feels.

“They all thought they were too good for me,” Tashi murmurs, watching with rapt fascination as she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes you cave. “Wonder what that makes you, huh?” she laughs at your dumbfounded expression, thrusting faster and rubbing your clit with her thumb.

You’re already on edge from when she was eating you out earlier, and you’re begging to just let go and break free from your confines. “I’m gonna cum,” you pant out, nails digging into Tashi’s neck. You’re reprimanded with a sharp slap to your thigh, before Tashi’s fingers return to scissoring inside you.

“Ask nicely,” she croons, and you just want to strangle her for being so fucking mean. Her hands are skillfully breaking you down and turning you into a slobbering mess, slick running down Tashi’s wrist as you throw your head back.

“Please, fah-fuuuuhck, I need t’cum, Tashi, Tash, lemme cum-!” you whimper as your hips buck frantically into her fingers, moaning as your it drags deliciously over her palm.

“Mmm, go ‘head,” she murmurs, leaning to suck at your tits and swirl her tongue around your nipple. Your orgasm is loud and sharp, crashing over you like a rocking cymbal as you clench around her fingers. Your arousal drips onto the floor and your chest heaves as you catch your breath, makeup all smudged and thighs trembling.

Tashi’s watching you with a syrupy satisfaction on her face, pulling her fingers out of you with one final pat to your overstimulated pussy, laughing gleefully at the way you twitch. She lifts her fingers to her lips and licks up the mess you made, raising an eyebrow at you. “Get dressed,” she orders, already adjusting the straps of her dress to fit snugly around her shoulders.

Slowly, you bend down and pull your panties back up, shivering when the cold, wet fabric meets heated skin. “Don’t you want me to… you know-?” you ask hesitantly, pulling your dress up and ignoring how sensitive your nipples feel under the silky fabric.

She laughs and unties her belt from the door handle, grinning at you and fixing your hair. “Obviously. But we’re doing that at my place. I think I deserve better than this, don’t you think?” The condescension is obvious as she fixes her lipstick in the mirror, and a new surge of heat rises in your stomach at the way she talks down to you. It feels good to give someone else the reins for a bit, to let Tashi control you.

“...Yeah,” you agree, watching as she brushes her hair over her shoulder. “You’re right.”

And you really mean it.

[atzhrts]

ik everyone is on a riize kick but do u have any thoughts on any ateez members 👉🏼👈🏼

i always have thoughts for my ults <3

i miss them so bad the concert needs to come quicker 😭 & i hope wooyoung feels better asap :(

includes in order of the member (age order): recording | tying hwa up | hand kink, choking | strength kink | body worship | pillow princess mingi | mirror sex | degradation (whore)

hongjoong who loves fucking you in his studio. just telling you to get on his lap whenever he needs a break, but you’d need to be quick before he gets back to work. he definitely has a song with your voice or moans in it, whispering a dirty little message for his new favorite song that no one will ever hear but him.

seonghwa who loves getting tied up by you because he know you think he looks so so pretty. but at the end of the day he’d still be the one in charge, hands tied above his head as his hips snap into yours. the harshness of his thrust sending you flying forward, placing your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself and burying your face in his neck.

yunho who knows you have the biggest thing for his hands, always subtly placing them on your body. on your thighs when he’s driving, on your waist whenever he’s opening a door for you or around your neck when he is rearranging your guts. definitely the type to run his finger over your cheek and down your chest to tease you.

yeosang who is obsessed with feeling how much stronger he is than you, dragging you up the stair before picking your up and shoving you against the wall. one hand supporting your thigh wrapped around his waist and the other one caressing your cheeks. hard bulge pressed against your center, making you feel the heat through a level of clothes as he gently starts rocking his body against yours.

san who loves having you worship his body, sitting on the bed in front of you, hands on your waist as you massage his shoulders. nails gently scratching over his skin before you move them over his pecs down his abs, one finger running down over his bulge before you place each of your legs on either side of his, sitting down on his lap. lips attaching themselves to the side of his neck, pressing kisses all the way up to his ear telling him how good he looks and your fingers squeezing his bicep whining about how big it is all while you can feel his bulge twitching against your center.

mingi who loves being a pillow princess, your lips just feel so so good around his dick and it has his mind spinning for the rest of the night. laying on his back, fucked out eyes staring into yours and you can just tell his mind is filled with you and you only. watching your tits bounce in his face as you use him to make yourself feel good, he’d try to thrust up into you every now and then but looses his strength after 2-3 thrust, your tight heat just feels way too good.

wooyoung who loves fucking you in front of a mirror, watching your reactions when he hits a particular good spot. one of his hand coming down to play with your clit, chuckling when your head falls back against his shoulder before telling you to watch yourself getting fucked. groaning over how you clench around him whenever the two of you make eye contact through the mirror and he sees your fucked out state. also likes watching himself in the mirror

jongho who has mastered the combination of ordering your around and treating you like his princess. telling you to get on your knees before gently caressing your cheeks, asking if your knees are comfortable. or pushing your legs over his shoulders and then making sure you’re not being stretched too much. calling you a whore and telling you you’re his perfect little girl in the same sentence.

[leaderwon]

RECIPE OF LOVE : KSN | 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐝𝐚𝐲 — 𝟓)

Synopsis : A simple cooking class turns into a hilarious adventure when Sunoo’s playful antics and your clumsy mistakes lead to total chaos in the kitchen. Despite the mess, Sunoo’s sweet gestures make it a day you will never forget.

Warnings : Playful teasing, accidental messes, light physical touch

wc : 1.6k+

masterlist

The aroma of freshly baked bread hit your senses as you stepped into the cozy cooking studio, the soft hum of classical music playing in the background. Sunoo stood beside you, already bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

“Look at this place,” he said, gesturing dramatically to the rows of polished countertops and neatly organized ingredients. “We’re basically on one of those fancy cooking shows. Gordon Ramsay, who?” You laughed, adjusting the apron the instructor had handed you. “Let’s just hope we don’t burn the place down.” “Speak for yourself,” Sunoo shot back with a grin, tying his apron in a perfectly neat bow. “I’m a natural chef. Just watch.”

The instructor began explaining the recipe (a classic pasta dish with freshly made sauce) but neither of you paid much attention. Sunoo was too busy poking fun at your overly serious expression, and you were too busy rolling your eyes at his antics.

When it was finally time to start, things went off the rails almost immediately.

“Uh, Sunoo?” you called, holding up a measuring cup filled to the brim with flour. “How much of this are we supposed to use again?” He leaned over to look, squinting at the recipe card. “It says half a cup, but honestly, who measures things? Just eyeball it.” “Are you sure?” you asked, hesitating. “Trust me,” he said, flashing a confident smile. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

vYou decided to take his advice and dumped the entire cup into the mixing bowl. A cloud of flour puffed into the air, covering both of you in a fine white powder. “Oops,” Sunoo said, blinking through the flour that now coated his lashes. “You said to eyeball it!” you protested, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean that much,” he shot back, laughing as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. “At least now you look like a ghost. Very spooky.” You smacked his arm lightly, but the playful smile on your face gave you away.

As the class continued, the two of you made mistake after mistake. Sunoo cracked an egg too forcefully, spilling it all over the counter, and you accidentally turned the mixer on too high, sending ingredients flying in every direction.

“Okay, this is officially a disaster,” you said, trying to scrape bits of dough off your apron. “It’s not a disaster,” Sunoo replied, holding up a slightly lopsided pile of chopped vegetables. “It’s… character. Our dish has personality.”

Despite the chaos, neither of you could stop laughing. The other students in the class sent amused glances your way, and even the instructor shook her head with a smile as she passed by your station.

When it was finally time to plate the pasta, your creation looked nothing like the sample dish. The noodles were slightly overcooked, and the sauce was too thick, but Sunoo proudly held up the plate like it was a five-star masterpiece.

“Behold,” he announced, presenting it to you with a flourish. “A culinary triumph.” You snorted. “It looks like a kindergartener made it.”

“Hey, rude,” he said, pretending to be offended. “But you know what? At least we had fun. That’s what matters, right?” You nodded, smiling at him. “Yeah, you’re right. This was way more fun than I expected.”

As the class wrapped up, you found yourselves sitting at a small table by the window, sharing bites of your imperfect creation. The evening sun cast a warm glow across the room, and for a moment, everything felt calm.

Sunoo leaned back in his chair, watching you with a soft smile. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’m really glad you came with me today. I can always count on you to make things fun.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you tried to play it cool. “Pretty sure you’re the one who turned this into a comedy show.” “Yeah, but you were the perfect co star,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. His gaze lingered for a moment, and the playful energy from earlier softened into something warmer.

Before you could think of a response, Sunoo suddenly sat up straight. “Wait. I almost forgot!” “Forgot what?” you asked, watching as he rummaged through his bag.

With a triumphant grin, he pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box and slid it across the table to you. “Here. For being my partner in crime today.” You blinked, surprised. “What is this?” “Open it and find out,” he said, leaning forward with anticipation.

Carefully, you unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate charm bracelet with tiny cooking themed charms, a rolling pin, a whisk, and a little heart-shaped cookie cutter.

“It’s so cute,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sunoo, you didn’t have to…” “I wanted to,” he interrupted, his smile soft but genuine. “I saw it last week and thought it’d be perfect for today. Now you’ll have something to remember our disastrous but iconic cooking adventure.”

You stared at the bracelet, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. “Thank you, Sunoo. Really. This means a lot.” He waved a hand dismissively, but the slight pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s nothing. Just… wear it when you miss me, okay? That way, you’ll always have me around to tease you.”

You laughed, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. “You’re unbelievable.” “And yet, you still hang out with me,” he teased, standing up and holding out a hand to you. “Come on. Let’s go get some real food to make up for our sad excuse for pasta.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. As you walked out of the studio together, the bracelet on your wrist jingled softly with every step, a sweet reminder of a day you knew you’d never forget.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[happinessismusic]

Time flies when you're madly in love.

Later this year, Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani will be celebrating their tenth anniversary together — and the country superstar tells PEOPLE exclusively in its latest issue that they're more in sync than ever.

"It honestly does [feel like time is flying by]. Some of the things that we talk about, we're to the point in our relationship that it's like, 'Oh, remember what happened...' and you realize, 'Oh my God, that was 8 years ago!' It's like, how did this happen so quickly?" says Shelton, 48.

But while Shelton acknowledges that "10 years is a long time," the singer — who teamed up with Stefani for a new duet on his latest album For Recreational Use Only (out May 9) — says the relationship "still feels new for me."

"I feel like that might be the key to happiness, is that it feels just as exciting and new and happy," he says.

While only one track made the album, Shelton reveals he and Stefani, 55, actually cut two duets. "We were both so fired up about both of them that we ended up holding one back for the next project," he says.

"Hangin' On" was "definitely a challenge" to record, Shelton adds, noting that he and Stefani "love to push ourselves as vocalists."

"We live together, so we walk around the house singing these songs all the time and we have months to talk about, 'Hey, maybe you jump on that part,'" explains Shelton of their process. "By the time we get to the studio, we're normally really prepared."

Stefani has long been a vulnerable songwriter, pouring her emotions into lyrics — and Shelton says she remains just as passionate about writing decades into her career.

"Gwen is way more particular when it comes to a lyric. I've never been as much of a stickler as she is. It's really important for her to be able to see herself in the lyric that she's singing vs. me. I've sung about going to prison, and there's never really been a debate," he jokes.

And while he's busy promoting his new music, the star says at the end of the day he's looking forward to a slower summer with his family, including stepsons Kingston, 18, Zuma, 16, and Apollo, 11.

"I'm looking forward to the kids being out of school. Gwen and I pretty much have our summers wide open. We both have a few shows here and there, but nothing that's tying us down to keep us from going and doing something fun," he says. "We don't have any plans — which is our favorite plan."

[tessa-liam]

Two 2 Tango

All is Fair in Love and War, part 2

Two 2 Tango >>>mini-series

Book: Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir Book 2 AU

Pairing: Maxwell Beaumont x F! OC, Daniella Gandi

Summary: Maxwell is invited to take part as a tango dance partner in an upcoming tango festival in Italy by Daniela Gandi. A dance instructor that helped Liam and Riley win a competition in Auvernal 5 years previously, felt sparks fly between herself and her assigned partner, Maxwell Beaumont.

◇Mini-series inspired by the one-shot: All is Fair in Love & War ◇

Warnings: none

Category: fluff, mini series

This story has not been Beta'd, please excuse all errors.

Series Rating: Adult, 18+

Word Count: 1483

🎶 🎶 💃 🕺 🎶🎶

Turin, Italy

Daniella stood and stretched her long, tanned legs, her lithe figure moving with practiced ease. She ran her hands through her long, brown hair and pulled it into a ponytail, tying it back.

Daniella is wearing a black sports bra and matching leggings. Her toned muscles ripple beneath her taut skin, and her blue eyes twinkle with excitement as she started her morning routine in the dance studio.

Her dance studio.

With a generous donation by a Cordonian King in his appreciation of her participation with his queen’s quest to learn how to dance the tango years ago, she was able to realize her dream.

To have her own dance studio.

Daniella was excited for today's event, the grand opening of her dance studio. It was a big moment for her, and she could not wait to share it with her friends and family.

Finished with her morning stretches, Daniella headed upstairs and into her loft overlooking the dance floor below. She started a pot of coffee and then grabbed a granola bar and an apple from the pantry. Reaching for her phone, she sent a text to Maxwell Beaumont, inviting him to dance with her in an international tango competition next month.

Maxwell's reply came in less than five minutes later.

Dukedom of Ramsford, Cordonia

Maxwell was enjoying the morning Mediterranean sun, lounging poolside at the Beaumont estate in Cordonia. He was sipping on a fruity drink and listening to music on his ear-pods. The atmosphere around him was calm and peaceful. Maxwell was lost in his own thoughts when his phone vibrated with a new text message. Maxwell picked up his phone and read the text from Daniella. She was inviting him to attend the opening of her new dance studio. Maxwell smiled as he remembered the time he spent dancing with Daniella at the palace 5 years ago. He replied to the text at once, accepting the invitation.

After replying to the text, Maxwell put his phone down and laid back on the lounge chair. He closed his eyes and let the warm sun soak into his skin once more. His mind wandered back to his days of dancing with Daniella, and he couldn't help but smile. He had really enjoyed spending time with her, and he hoped that maybe there could be something more between them one day.

Maxwell: Yes!!! I'd love to. I'm free this weekend, if you want to practice. 😍🫶

Daniella smiled as she read his message. She quickly replied, setting up a time for them to meet, inviting him to her dance studio in Turin.

Daniella's heart beat faster in her chest as she thought about spending the upcoming weekend with Maxwell.

It had been a while since they last danced together, and she could not wait to see his handsome face again.

Maxwell: See you soon, tango-rina girl! 🥰❤️

Daniella giggled at his use of her nickname that he gave her and sent him a heart emoji in return.

With the time for their reunion set, Daniella placed her phone down on the counter and took another sip of her coffee.

Turin, Italy - 10 days later

As Maxwell arrived at Daniella's dance studio, the doors opened to reveal her smiling face.

"Ciao, tangorina girl." he chirped as he walked into the studio, embracing Daniella with a hug.

"Ciao, Maxxie! Grazie per essere venuto qui! " [Thanks for coming, here!]

Daniella replied, blushing slightly.

"It's fantastic to see you again," Maxwell says as they pull apart.

Daniella led him into the studio and gave him a tour. They walked through the large, open room where the classes will be held, and then headed upstairs to the loft.

Daniella pointed out the different rooms that they will be using for private lessons, saving the best for last --

The rooftop patio.

"Wow, this is an incredible view!" Maxwell gasped, looking out over the city.

Daniella nodded, leaning against the railing. "I'm so glad that we will have the chance to work together again."

Maxwell smiled and reached for her hand. "Me too... I can't wait to dance with you again, tangorina girl."

Their eyes locked, and Daniella felt her heart start to beat faster. Maxwell leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Let's dance," he whispered, and they spent the rest of the afternoon practicing their tango routine.

Maxwell and Daniella's dance moves were seamless and in sync, as their chemistry on and off the dance floor was undeniable.

Maxwell found himself falling for the gorgeous dance instructor.

They spent the rest of the day together, and by the time they returned to their homes, they were both exhausted but content.

As Maxwell lay in bed that night, he thought about Daniella and how much fun they had dancing together.

He couldn't wait to see her again and hopefully make their dance partnership more than just professional.

The International Tango Competition was being held in Venice, and Maxwell was determined to win.

He had never won a tango competition before, but this time was different. This time, he had the most amazing woman by his side.

Dancing with Daniella was effortless. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, and Maxwell knew that he was in love.

🎶🎶🕺💃🎶🎶

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicescommunityevents

[book4air]

Social Media: https://linktr.ee/book4air

Fire Lord Zuko’s struggle to reform the Fire Nation and maintain peace continues. Now he believes that to help his people, he must first set things right with his family. But the only way to do so is to team up with his lifelong enemy and occasional tenuous ally: his sister Azula.

With the help of Avatar Aang and friends, can the royal fire siblings find their mother? And even if they do, what will become of their family and their nation? Do some scars run too deep to ever heal?

Enjoy our adaptation of “The Search” with brand new original scenes and story changes that may surprise even the most devoted comics fans!

Want to see the original version? Please support the official release.

Showrunners @somethingwithther @prying-pandora666

Based on 'The Search' by Dark Horse Comics Additional Writing by Lucía Lobosvilla

'Not A Messenger' by @venusdegoat Scene adapted with permission Support the full comic https://tapas.io/series/Not-A-Messenger/info

Art Team Artists: Melissa Palacios, @samleewins, @rick-orange Letterers: Sam Lee Wins, Melissa Palacios, Ryoma Ishizuka, Austro Calligraphy: Cherry Cheuk Yu Chang Translator: Yvette Su

Audio Team Head Engineer: Sam Gabriel Line Placement: Valravn Mixing Engineer: Ryoma Ishizuka, TheTVBunny (Elise Lepley), Kurt Cañez Mastering: Kim Morton

Video Team Head Engineer: Ryoma Ishizuka Editors: TheRealizer367 (Walter Vitola), Curtiscreatesstuff, Hazco Fox, PhantomSavage, Astrid Ev, franky1581

Music Team Music Director: James A. Reilly Composers: James A. Reilly, Aneesh Kashalikar, Mark 'Nowa' Taylor, Ty Porter

Voice Team Voice Directors: Lucía Lobosvilla, Anthony Rodriguez Casting: Ryoma Ishizuka, Lucía Lobosvilla

Voice Cast Aang - @somethingwithther Katara - @sometimesstephstuff Sokka - Grant Corvin Toph - @muslimsupersaiyan Zuko - Cade Watts Azula - @prying-pandora666 Iroh - D. Tyler Fultz Appa & Momo - Josh Lee Ursa - @charaito Ikem - Anthony Rodriguez Ozai - Jakob Dillon Suki - @queen-mickey-the-sass-master Ty Lee - Heidi Tabing Kota - James A. Reilly Kenji - Ash Rucker Ezo - Nichelle Phillips Professor Phom Lee - John Archer II Eula - Iris Azulon - Edward Hong Rina - Sara Dunham Jinzuk - Dylan Rasbold Guard - Jazzy Oliver Kid Zuko - Mel Valentine Baby Zuko - Victoria C. McMullen Additional Voices True Blue Grant Corvin Kauthar Harrak-Sharif Lucía Lobosvilla James A. Reilly Heidi Tabing Cade Watts Ara’digm Wong

Promo Bumper Animated by ‪@samleewins Voice of Sokka by Grant Corvin Video Editing by Ryoma Ishizuka Audio Editing by Sam Gabriel Mastering by Kim Morton Special Thanks Book 4 Restoration Project Team Dark Horse Comics Nickelodeon Gene Luen Yang Gurihiru Avatar Wiki Ara’digm Wong The Flying Opera Company Productions KikwishhArt Dave Roman Kevin Coppa Baby Lion Turtle Aaron Ehasz Bryan Konietzko Michael Dante DiMartino AND YOU Produced by Staff And Seer Studios, LLC.

[midnight--sadness]

k-pop idol AU anon here ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ i'm glad you liked my idea!! ♡ and do not worry about intruding or anything like that i love & value your comments!!

here's what i'm thinking for inhun... we need to go back to the 90's for this one.   ☾  .𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚

inho got an opportunity from a friend of his great uncle (and that friend is none other than the music executive of a famous record label in seoul, oh ilnam), leaving university behind and decided to pursue a music career instead. he didn't want a monotonous life as some office worker anyways.

people are in love with his looks, his music, his bad boy persona... wearing cutoff shirts and the like (SUN'S OUT GUN'S OUT ! 😤). as to which genre, that's up to you guys to decide! but his albums are selling like crazy and his songs are always up top on the charts, never second place. until...

oh ilnam scouted for new talents but to no avail. there is money to be made here! luckily for him, ilnam struck gold when he felt hungry and wanted some comfort food like tteokbokki. because then he saw the most prettiest and beautiful young man at a stall, helping his friend's mom with the orders. the young man is a bit clumsy (he almost dropped ilnam's soju bottle on the ground). his name is seong gihun. a little reserved, sweet eyes, beautiful lithe build. oh, what an angel. a smile that is worth more than diamonds and gold in the earth. KA-CHING! that's the sound of money pouring in!ilnam asked gihun if he can sing. "ah, well, i love going out for karaoke but i wouldn't say i'm excellent at it..." but that's not a problem, nothing a couple of vocal lessons that can't fix!

the next day gihun found himself in the studio along with ilnam and other important figures to brainstorm how to mold him into a superstar. everyone is complimenting his physique and gorgeous face, making gihun blush and play with the hem of shirt. one thing lead to another, and looks like the industry has another rising starlet!

i really love the sound of 90's R&B, so i think i'll choose this genre for gihun (づ˶•༝•˶)づ♡ what started out as playful, captivating, funky songs developed into very foxy, sultry, and smooth. gihun evolved as an artist and got out of his shell, becoming more sure of himself, going with concepts that he likes and what he feels like fits the most. and that is by being an artist portraying himself as both innocent little kitty and a sexy siren. he experiments with outfit too! does not matter if it's a skirt or jeans, clothes are clothes and he is here to look CUN-TY! women, men, no matter who - everyone wants gihun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*

i think it would be funny if inho never got to meet gihun immediately because he himself is busy recording, touring, practicing choreo, attending award shows, etc. but he does notice there is competition around. on the top 10 charts for songs or album sales they are so close to each other. then he sees gihun on a cover of playboy ("i know he's not a girl, but he's pretty like the rest of 'em! believe me, those magazines will be flying off the shelves!" said gihun's manager. and she was RIGHT). inho's brain short circuits but he quickly snaps out of it has to focus on performing live on a late night show. fuck, gihun was attractive. beautiful curves and features. he needs to know more about him. he needs to have him.

inho and gihun eventually meet at a staff party, celebrating record-breaking profits. inho finds out that gihun might be older and slightly taller than, but he can wrap his strong arms around gihun's tiny waist and lift him up easily. they get to know each other very well, and ilnam sees the chemistry between both singers. he gets this brilliant idea - those two should tour together.

and it's a big success, there is an entire crowd of screaming fans waiting for them to perform solo and together. i'd imagine inho and gihun spending time with each other during the tour would make them fall head over heels in love. not just as artists, but for who they are (,,♡ᵕ♡,,) as people, as one nerdy guy interested in crime/detective books and a clumsy fellow who took in stray cats until his mother scolded him. amidst the singing and showbusiness, they found each other (╥﹏╥)💜💜💜

believe me when i tell you inhun would fuck like rabbits because they're two young men and gihun's hips are made to be gripped at, but because they're two high demand artists and under strict regiments they're not able to fully savor their relationship... i'd imagine there would be many fanservice moments on stage though. like inho holding gihun's waist or giving him a kiss ln the neck. making the audience go WILD. ilnam isn't opposed to this because money but he did tell them to keep it at that and don't go beyond unless they want his higher ups to chew him out (so PDA is not okay but making gihun pose for playboy? alright *rolls eyes*)

PART 2 COMING SOON, HWAIT FOR ME UNNIE~ ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

omggg 🥹🥹😩😩💖 this is incredible!!

i think inho could rap! that way when they are together the music flows since rap and r&b go great together!

maybe, gihun's manager could be geumja? and even when she has a baby boy she continues working and brings little yongsik with her! years later, he debuts in a boygroup!

and if inho raps then u know he was thanos' inspiration 🫶

omg inhun not being able to share their love with the world 😭😭 sleazy record producers working them like dogs and their only refuge is each other 💖

YES PLEASE GIVE ME ALL OF IT!!!😫😤

[sanccharine]

the way everyday goes | ty

christmas au

pairing: tzuyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7k

warning: again so sweet it'll rot your teeth ;-;

summary: your bank account may be crying, but that doesn't matter when you spend money on the people you love most

a/n: this year (last years rip) christmas fic, would anyone believe me if i said everything was ready to be posted ?? i just got lazy, i'm sorry HAFGDHSKFH thanks to @eternallyghosting my human spelling and grammar check but ngl tho, i wrote this fic very weirdly, so expect some things to not add up, but yeah !! happy new year !!

When Tzuyu opened the door to her studio, she seemed the furthest thing from happy to see you. Though that was often the expression she wore when dealing with the likes of you. 

You, on the other hand, wore a wide grin, shaking a large bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of iced coffee in the other. 

She was dressed in her usual garb. The one she wore when she locked herself in her room for an ungodly amount of days. An extra large sweatshirt that fell to her thighs with matching sweatpants in black colour. The only indicator of her tension is the frayed hem of one corner, no doubt picked at the seam while she reads all of her essays and articles and textbooks.

Tzuyu was unamused, but you were used to that. No harm done. Scoffing at her deadpan look, you shoved your way into her small house. When she didn’t step to the side, your back clipped the door frame, while all she did was watch you with her owlish eyes. 

“Good morning,” you said, throwing another grin at her over your shoulder as you made your way straight to her study desk. Tzuyu had barely moved, holding the door open and just watching you run around her home as if it were your own. “Come on, why do you look like that? Catch!”

And you threw the chips packet at her. 

Your smile only widened as Tzuyu watched the packet fly across the distance between you and let it fall to her feet. She looked at the packet and then at you and then back at the packet. With a sigh, she closed the door behind her. 

You expected as much from her and shrugged. “Have fun with your crumbs,” you said, observing her study desk. 

“Oh, I will,” she mumbled and bent down to pick up the fallen treat.

Exams are over. Results were coming out soon for the semester. And best of all, your holidays have started. The campus is closed for a whole week until New Year’s, truly there was nothing to frown at. Yet, there you stood scrutinising Tzuyu’s desk. 

Her laptop is open on some unit site, codes and words that meant nothing to you. Her notebooks were strewn open with loose sheets, all highlighted and annotated with multicoloured pens. Sticky notes infiltrated every part of your vision. It overwhelmed you. Though, you supposed a student like Tzuyu could only function as such. 

“What—What is all…” you gestured loosely at her table, “this?”

Tzuyu, still at her place in front of the door, tilted her head to the left as she opened the chips packet. Her blank stare was just a touch away from a glare as she decided not to grace you with a response. 

You were used to her tricks. Same as she was to your taunts. 

“You know the semester is over right, like, you can rest now,” you say, but Tzuyu scoffed.

She made her way towards you and headed to the cupboard behind. But not before offering you some of her chips, you tipped the crumbs into your mouth.

“I have to prepare for postgrad,” she said, “you know that.”

“Oh, what postgrad?” you asked, feigning cluelessness but Tzuyu just sent a scathing glare over her shoulder. “Do you mean the postgrad that starts in September of next year?”

“Second week of October,” she said, as she pushed hangers out of the way as if they’d personally offended her. 

“Oh, even worse,” you sighed dramatically, throwing your arm over your forehead though she didn’t turn having seen this routine so many times. “That’s what? Only like a year’s worth of time—”

“It’s only ten months.”

“Oh sorry, only ten months, that’s truly so little time,” you said, purposely standing in her way when she turned to lay out her pick on the bed. Tzuyu liked to visualize her clothes. 

“That time will pass in a flash—get! Get out of my way!” she shoved you to the side and walked to her bed before continuing. “Before you know it, the semester will start and you’ll be wondering how you’re already behind on assignments.”

That was such a fatalistic belief that only a student like Tzuyu can hold. Even when she, herself, has disproved such thinking. 

“Yeah, but you did promise to take a break for a while,” you said, a bit of seriousness slipping in but you caught yourself. Shrugging exaggeratedly for effect and took a moment to consider. After a pause, you clapped your hands together. “Like how we said we’d go out and celebrate today! Remember that?” 

“Can’t say I do. Is that why you’re up so early today?” she said as she moved back and forth pulling out pieces to complete her outfit. Tzuyu then returned to her cupboard, shuffling something around in there. You’d say that she was trying to figure out how to complete her look, but knowing her, she’d probably planned her outfit for the day. 

You looked at your wrist, there was no watch. “Yeah, getting up before twelve was a real struggle,” you said and you moved right by her as she finally picked out a manuka winter coat. She ignored the way you clung to her side, though you didn’t miss the small smile she wore. Donning a smile of your own, you continued. “But you know those are the sacrifices I make for our relationship.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Tzuyu asked, following along with your playacting. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting all week for this day. All month even, you could say. Just for this, this very special, oh-so-jolly day. All only to get some time to spend with you, my—” You had just opened your arms to cage Tzuyu from moving around but she’d stopped you with a hand to chest. 

“It’s not that serious,” her words were clipped but she was smiling. “Calm down, now.”

“Now, why would I do that?” you asked, arms still outstretched, you jutted your chin at them, waiting for your hug. 

Tzuyu rolled her eyes but still relented. 

She giggled when your arms closed around like how a claw machine would around a toy. And similarly—

“Don’t—” her words ended in a squeal as you lifted her up and spun her around, a little wobbly on your feet just to mess with her. 

You dragged her down to her bed, crumpling her perfectly set up clothes on the way, and burst into giggles. All the while Tzuyu grumbled her distaste at being lifted up while struggling to get away from your hold. 

“Stop laughing!” she shrieked, pushing herself away as giggles escaped her lips as well. “Seriously, seriously! I’ll go get ready, let me go now!” 

You just hummed and rolled away as she hurriedly got off the bed. She straightened herself up before tugging at her clothes from beneath you. All you did was watch her, a cold sensation climbed up your arms. 

“You’re unbelievable,” she was flushed when she said it, but grinning ear to ear as she made her way to her bathroom.

By the time the pair of you had reached the bus station, you had finished both the packet of chips and your bottle of iced coffee. Swiping her card quickly, Tzuyu made her way to the back of the bus and picked a two-seater. This early in the morning and this far out of the city, there was barely anyone on the bus. She shuffled herself next to the window just as you took a seat next to her. 

The bus had already moved from the station when Tzuyu pulled out her phone and earphones from her pockets. Without even looking at you, she handed you the left earphone after putting the right one on. When you accepted, she pressed play and leaned back with her eyes closed. 

You watched her for a second, a reprieve from when she wasn’t studying you back. You heard a chime somewhere in your vicinity, but you didn’t turn away, your stop wasn’t up until a while.

Tzuyu often looked perfect. 

Of course, that was simple to say because she was beautiful. There was no doubt about it. 

But it wasn’t so surface-level. It bled into how she carried herself and practically built her facade. 

She’d said it herself. 

“Repetition leads to routine, and practice leads to perfection. It’s monotonous but it brings order. They set a standard,” she paused. “And that’s something I can’t afford to give up.” 

Granted, when she had uttered those words you’d found her in the same awful set of lockdown-sweats. A manic look in her eyes and her hair was frizzy from having a hand run through it so many times. She’d stayed up all night writing her draft of an essay that was worth nearly fifty percent of her grade. She’d barely eaten, surviving on instant black coffee and cereal bars. 

In those types of moments, she reminded herself of those words. She repeated them when her motivation dipped beyond recognition and staring at her screen made her eyes dry up. She had a sticky note of the same words written in a hasty scrawl in her line of sight, just above where her laptop sat, so it was always on her mind. She’d apologise because she was not one to bite her tongue, but she’d tell you the same words. And sometimes it motivated you, seeing her excel, you wanted that for yourself too. But most of the time, the weight of working so hard crushed you straight into the ground. 

It was worrying but she never really let herself stay down. And maybe, that’s where you came in. 

When she’d tired herself out, you’d bought her dinner to make sure she had a proper meal before she slept for a whole day. You provided the snacks when you both holed yourselves in the library. You dragged her out by planning days such as this. You were her reprieve. 

And by that time, you’d figured her out. 

You saw her past the perfection she so delicately manufactured. Past the painted nails. Past the crisply ironed dress shirts. Past the curious gaze. 

It wasn’t as if she completely removed her imperfections. If you knew where to look, you could find it. The fraying insides of her cuffs from picking at the threads. The flimsy collar barely holding its shape after being pulled at for so long. The flyaway strands that came undone when she played with her hair. They were always there, always humanizing her. You just needed to look at her long enough to know they existed. 

When you saw the muscle in her cheek twitch, you were brought back to the sensation of the moving bus, rumbling beneath you. She knew you were watching, but decided against confronting you about it. The thought brought a smile of your own as you picked up your phone to check when you needed to stop the bus. 

That was your duty. Your role in this relationship. One you took with pride. 

Tzuyu was comfortable enough to let herself take a step back and allow you to drag her wherever you’d planned, no questions asked. The entire day was scheduled on your phone, even allowing for late buses and trains. You’ve travelled enough on public transportation to account for this sort of thing. 

So that's how the trip to the central business district went. From bus to subway, from station to station, and one line to another—Tzuyu stuck by you. 

Her earphones, still connecting you. Your hand, always holding hers. 

You knew this city like the back of your hand. That happens when you spend nearly four years travelling back and forth, finding part-time jobs, going out, and attending events. 

Yet you were still noticing new things from time to time. 

As soon as your train stopped in the main district, you headed straight for the restaurants to load up on snacks. You still had time to kill before you needed to go where you needed to be. So you let Tzuyu drag you around, gawking at books she wants to read, playing around with fabrics of sweatshirts she already owned, but most importantly, you bought her almost everything she asked for when it came to food. 

Though she did threaten to leave when you first proclaimed loudly at the counter. “Don’t worry, anything for my pretty princess.” 

That was how you ended up holding two special collectable bubble tea cups, a take-away bag filled with free samples, and an inviting half-eaten honey cake which the pair of you left for later since it was too sweet. 

From time to time, you pestered Tzuyu to take photos of you. Although she whined about it, once the camera was up, she was striking a pose. Her, always so prim and proper, and you, always with your arm above her or around her or holding her. Always gazing at her.

“Tell me you didn’t,” though you weren’t facing her, you could imagine her gawking. 

“Well, I kinda did,” you shrugged, before throwing the clerk a smile as he went in to grab your shoes. 

“How much was this—”

“I told you, money is not a problem! Anything for my sweet little schnookums—oi! That actually really hurt!” you leaned on the counter, a groan escaping you as you held the bicep that was harassed. “Unbelievable, unbelievable!”

Tzuyu just stuck her tongue out before grabbing her own shoes and heading in. 

“Real mature,” you grumbled with a smile as you grabbed your pair of shoes and followed after her. 

You’d dumped all your belongings except your phone into a locker and took a seat by Tzuyu to put on the ice skating shoes. For some reason, the fit was never perfect. Sometimes it felt like it was biting into your toes, or placing pressure on your ankle, but then it felt too loose when you tried to stand. While you were doing and undoing the laces, you missed the way Tzuyu just watched you with a smile.

With a groan, you tried again, hoping to get it down this time. “Honestly,” you looked up for a second at the rink. “I didn’t expect it to be this packed.” 

“Oh, you’re telling me you didn’t expect one of the biggest ice rinks… in the city… to be busy… on Christmas Eve?” Tzuyu asked, her voice dripping with more derision with every statement. 

“Okay but is it really Christmas Eve if it is, like, eleven in the morning?” you asked with a sigh as you finally finished tying your shoes. 

“The whole day is the Eve,” she sent you a look as she stood, not wobbling at all on her blades. “And it’s almost two.”

“Is it?!” you asked, pulling out your phone. She was right!

Not according to schedule, but you expected as much. You could work with this. 

“That’s fine,” you said and pocketed your phone before trying to get up. Tzuyu’s hand was already in your vision, and without hesitation, you took it. “Thanks.”

When you were stable, she let go. 

“Okay, you can do it,” and with that, she took two steps and was on the rink already merging with the moving crowd that circled the border. 

“Chou Tzuyu, are you serious?” you screamed, even getting some looks, but you weren’t bothered. 

Even with the crowd, and the blaring Christmas tunes, you could hear her laugh once you spotted her. Tzuyu had her head thrown back, eyes crinkled close, and her right hand gripping the railing so she didn't double over and eat ice shavings. If she wasn’t having so much fun, you’d have been mad at her for laughing at your expense. 

Tzuyu moved along but slowed down a bit so that you could catch up. It’s not as if you’ve never skated before, you have. After all, you were the one to book this outing. You just hoped you would be a little bit more graceful. Of course, after a few rounds, the lack of practice and confidence will disappear, but for the moment, you longingly stared at the children gleefully making circles in the middle of the rink with their penguins. 

“Oh, come on, let go of the railing,” Tzuyu taunted, skating smoothly by your side, while you were hunched over the railing, basically walking on ice. “Come on!”

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” a child giggled as she passed around you with a penguin aid. You’re sticking next to the railing too, kid!

“Why did you book this if you’re not even going to skate properly?” Tzuyu had the gall to pout. 

“Because it’s in theme! Winter, holidays, snow, Christmas—!” you let out an ugly squeal as the blades slipped from underneath you. For a moment, you flailed. You imagined you looked like those cartoon characters just as they teetered off a cliff, hands winding around like a propeller to stop themselves from plummeting. Thankfully, the railing was your shining knight in armour and your wayward legs had stopped fighting you.  

Tzuyu had stopped skating. But once you looked back at her, both elbows over the railing while huffing and puffing, she just broke out laughing. Maybe you’d admire how free she looked when she laughed like that if you weren’t glaring at her. While she did that, you pulled yourself into a standing position. 

“I’m fine,” you huffed out as you were standing and facing the rink again. “Thanks for worrying, by the way.” 

Still chuckling, Tzuyu came closer to the railing. And then she did something insane. 

Pushing herself with one foot, she spun around and came to a stop in front of you. 

When did she have the time to learn all of that?

“No need to show off.” Tzuyu rolled her eyes as she extended her arms. 

“And no need to be killjoy,” she retaliated before jutting her chin at her hands. “Come on, take it.” 

You made quite the show of how much you did not want this, though it was hard to suppress your smile. She shared the expression when you took her help. With a nod, she pushed off and moved backwards, pulling you with her. 

When she tugged you close, you let out another yelp, and she had to press her lips thin to not burst out laughing again. She moved slowly, helping you find your footing on the ice while you navigated her away from bumping into people. Maybe if you weren’t so busy with maintaining your balance, you may have taken your chance to press a kiss on her nose, only to watch her scrunch her eyes shut and blush to her ears. 

Once you’d done a round like that, Tzuyu decided to be brave and pushed herself back to your side. Although she was still holding one of your hands, leaning down, she picked up pace and so you followed her. Before you knew it, you were skating again. Like you used to, the few times you visit. Right by her side, competitions and bets came up, but at the end of the rounds, you were just finding ways to hold Tzuyu’s hand again. 

When you realized that the rink’s Christmas playlist had looped, you decided it was time for a break. For you, at least. Stopping at a corner near the entrance to the rink, you leaned on the railing as you watched Tzuyu make easy rounds around the rink, even daring to skate between people. Like any other person, you picked out your phone and started filming her fly across the rink. 

There was one particular move where she skated backwards and manoeuvred into a slow spin that made her laugh when she executed it perfectly. However, she’d almost run over a child who barely reached her knee in the process. Instantly, she was on her knees on the ice, even though the kid kept shaking her head to convey that she was fine. That was how you had another video of Tzuyu, skating hand in hand with a little girl as she taught her how to do a little circle. 

You were on the seats with your shoes already in your hands when Tzuyu plopped herself down next to you. 

“Happy?” you asked, tilting your head to watch her. 

The grand clock chimed to mark the start of a new hour. 

She nodded, eyes scrunched close again as she grinned. “Very.”

By the time you’d collected your things and finished up the rest of your leftover snacks, it was already time for dinner. You made your reservation just in time. When you entered the restaurant, the first thing the maitre d’ did was judge you. Well, you couldn’t be sure of what was going through his head, though you're sure he wasn’t supposed to stare at you for so long. 

Granted, you and Tzuyu had sprinted the last few steps because it started snowing hard, and were huffing and puffing like some steam engine. 

“Welcome,” his voice pitched high before he corrected himself and tried again. Instead of bursting out laughing, you and Tzuyu just shared an amused look before following him. 

He guided you through the main lounge of the restaurant and to the private rooms you’d booked. Most places had flashing lights, a horrifying mixture of green and red covering every surface to get in the spirit. However, you loved how this restaurant had decorated the places. The whole place was dimmed, so only the fairy lights by the curling and candles on the tables twinkled. Each table had its own bouquet with flowers you couldn’t name, some adorned with miniature ornaments and some with paper-crafted reindeers and bells. Dinner plates, champagne glasses, and table mats had little accents of red and green, nothing too daring. 

You supposed such simple elegance was expected of a high-end restaurant, but that also meant their clientele was of a different calibre too. Most of those at the tables were couples in expensive clothes and greying hair. Some seemed younger, but even they held an air of authority that you doubted you held as you trudged your way through the place. 

Not that it mattered though. The waiter introduced the pair of you to your room and informed you how you could ring for help before closing the door behind him. With just you and Tzuyu in the room, you made yourselves comfortable. 

Tzuyu pulled up the menu while you shrugged off your coat and hung it over your chair. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked before turning the menu and showing off the price of the dishes. 

“Well, seeing as my name was on their list and they haven’t kicked us out. I think, yes,” you replied and picked up a menu for yourself. “Order anything. Whatever you want.”

You said a bit more genuinely than the last few times you did. 

“Are you sure?” Tzuyu asked, still scrutinizing the prices. 

“Of course,” you nodded, scanning for a dish that was worth the price. “My treat, remember.”

Tzuyu’s (and your own, really) inhibitions about the price had disappeared once you had your first bite. The food was absolutely divine. The pair of you had ordered two different dishes and then swapped halfway through, and then ordered one more dish and a dessert to end it with. 

Tzuyu was scraping the bottom of her bowl when you asked her. “What do you think about marriage?”

The scraping stopped. 

You’d have laughed at the little smudge of chocolate by her lip if her eyes weren’t so wide. 

“Like, you mean, us?” she asked slowly. 

A small chuckle escaped you as you moved the ice cream around in your own bowl. “No, like, in general.” 

“Is this about Sana?”

That was the name of the second person in Tzuyu’s ginormous friend group who had gotten married over the summer. You never really knew the woman personally, or any of her friends really, but you’d heard enough about them and visited two weddings to know what they were like. And especially how much they mattered to Tzuyu. 

“Sure, I guess,” you shrugged and Tzuyu returned to her dessert, although much slower this time around. “I don’t know, it just feels so daunting, you know?”

Tzuyu waited in silence. 

With a sigh, you continued. “They’re so young and they got married,” you admitted. 

It wasn’t just Tzuyu’s friends. You’ve heard stories within your own lectures, of people discussing marriage plans and getting engaged and dream weddings. And if not that, they were settling down, in relationships that seemed to promise security more than momentary pleasure. You’re not one to give that sort of thing too much thought, but you’d be a liar if you said you’ve never thought about it. 

Tzuyu studied her bowl, apparently, there was still quite a bit of dessert left. “They know what they want…” 

That was a simple enough answer. 

Did you know what you want?

Your hand stopped spinning your spoon around as you studied Tzuyu. 

Bells. That’s what you heard when you looked at her. Not like the deafening sirens you set as your morning alarm or the jingles you’ve been hearing all day. A soft melody filled with dulcet notes, building as your heart rate increased. It must be a sound you’ve heard before if your mind can come up with it… right? But you just couldn’t place the sound, it didn’t sound like any song you’d heard and if it was, you wouldn't recognize it. 

You heard it every time you glanced at her, it arose in the strangest of moments. The pair of you had just pulled an all-nighter, the sky was losing darkness and turning into a dreamy blue, and when you turned to Tzuyu, you found her face pressed onto her textbook. She was out cold, the right side of her face completely smashed and her mouth hanging open as she slept. You had to clasp a hand over your mouth from laughing at yourself and waking her up. 

And then you heard it when she first made instant noodles her way for you and added a concerning amount of cheeses. Then, it was when she suggested visiting a new cafe in the city and you’d agreed without question. Or when she’d bought you a random trinket from a street vendor solely because it had reminded her of you. So many trivial moments, filled with a soundtrack of your own making for your very own love story. 

Because it was one. There were no two ways about it. 

People often say falling in love is magical, perhaps that holds some truth to it. The fluttering in your stomach that you couldn’t differentiate from nervousness, the beating of your heart hammering away as if it were to burst, the shiver that runs up your neck, that same sense of suffocation you feel when you’re out of breath. How gooseflesh rises on your skin, but you feel so warm inside. And when you look at her, it's a sensation of relief that you feel. The tinge of positivity when she looks back at you, a twinkle in her eyes to let you know you weren’t the only one feeling this way. 

You wanted to ask her and you have asked her.

Were you supposed to do something right now? In the moment? What would happen if we didn’t address it? How could we plan anything? How many times could we tell each other that it’s not fear? That we’re not scared? You’re not scared? But you are, you really are. It was overwhelming. 

Are we falling behind?

She’d always denied it. 

And she was right, of course. 

But it didn’t always feel like it. 

There were only a handful of people you considered true friends from your university. Not because they’d done anything to you or whatever, some people just click and stick with you forever and some don’t. It was simple. It was normal. And the former was true of Tzuyu. 

It was so true, sometimes it brought tears to your eyes when you thought about it in the middle of the night. It really is so overwhelming just how much you felt for her. Perhaps this was love, or it was something else, you’ve never felt at this intensity before. You really couldn’t name it. And that might sound strange but it was true, nothing could really encompass what you felt, or heard even, when you looked at her. 

“What are you looking at?” Tzuyu’s voice broke you from your reverie. 

Your mouth made the shape to enunciate the word. 

“And don’t say, you,” Tzuyu groaned as she pushed her bowl away, she’d finished her treat. 

She knew your tricks all too well. You’ll need to change it up. 

“Don’t freak, but there’s a bug on your—”

“What?” Tzuyu freaked out. “Where? Where is it? Tell me!”

Freezing up, all she could do was glare when you just chuckled. “I was wondering if I should just slap you to hit it,” Tzuyu’s eyes widened and you couldn’t help your laughter. “Or just leave you at its mercy and run, I didn’t want its attention on me–”

“Just get it off!” 

“–but you know, sudden movements and things. I can’t die, I have too much to live for—” she shrieked your name, pleading as her hands gripped the table. “Okay, okay, come here.”

Gesturing for her to move forward, you leaned over the table to wipe away the smudge of ice cream by the corner of her lips. The smudge was long gone, so she should have guessed so was the 'bug' but you just held her chin. You, watching her. And her, watching you. 

Having lingered long enough, you pulled your hand back with a smile. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled after clearing her throat. 

You just nodded before showing her your bowl of melted ice cream. “Do you want to finish this off too?”

“Yes, please,” she said, “but I also have something for you.”

You tilted your head in confusion, every single plate on her side of the table had been wiped clean. What did she have to give you? 

You were just about to voice those words when she pulled out a small package from underneath the table. A gasp had barely left your lips when she spoke.

“It’s not a ring.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

“I’m sure you are,” Tzuyu placed the package next to your bowl and took the ice cream. “Open it.”

Following orders, you opened the package and you started second-guessing her claim of this not being a marriage proposal. Of course, you knew it wouldn’t be, you’d talked about as much. But you guessed somewhere you’d like to hear such news. 

You sent her a glance when you felt the velvet inning of the box, though she just shook her head. 

What was in there, when you opened the box, was a necklace. 

A loud snort escaped you that you had to clasp a hand over your mouth. 

When you looked up, Tzuyu was shovelling ice cream into her mouth but still grinning. She was doing anything to avoid looking at you. 

The necklace barely matched its packaging. The first thing that caught your attention was an amulet, it was discolored and its design eroded, by wear that you could barely make out what it used to be. But you knew. And you remembered.

Four years ago, during some university-wide event, the amulet had caught your attention on some stall. But at the same time you’d reached for it, so had Tzuyu. The bells. That’s where you could track them back to. Some busking artist that had been performing at the time, providing a melody that you’d come to associate with Tzuyu herself and the love you have for her. 

Tzuyu had been very adamant about having the amulet, and you, well you couldn’t care less. So you’d said the opposite and asked her to buy you the very expensive, very sugary, glazed doughnuts from the foodtruck down the line. And she’s just said yes. 

And then you talked. You exchanged your numbers. And the rest well, was history. 

Tzuyu never came around to wearing the amulet, and one night she admitted that she only bought it for its aesthetics, but could never find a moment to properly wear it. And if she did, she found herself wrapping it around her wrist so she could play with it when class was boring. The same night you admitted you just used the necklace to get yourself free doughnuts. From then on, she made it very obvious to wear it whenever you were around.

And now, it has returned to you. Having lost all of its aesthetic appeal. 

“Oh this, this is priceless,” you said, giggling and tugging it from the box, already putting it on. “Thank you.” 

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, finishing the last of your ice cream. “Now, where’s my present?” 

You know she was asking to be cheeky, but you still entertained her. “Oh, like the whole day I planned and spent with my hard-earned money wasn’t a present?”

The train ride back was longer than you’d expected, but it gave Tzuyu some time to nap. Once again, you were connected by your hands and her earphones, as she lay her head on your shoulder. 

Seeing as how late it was, buses would take longer to make their last rounds. Which is why you left Tzuyu at the bus stop, so you could quickly rush to the general store behind it and get some more snacks. Hot chocolate seemed like the right choice at a time like this, the perfect ending to the day. The scene would be magical, being seated together at a bus stop, illuminated by a warm lamppost, surrounded by flecks of snow as you sipped on hot chocolate. But also, you were craving more ice cream. Dealing with a cold will be your future you’s problem. 

So you grabbed two cones and a hand warmer and swiped your card. 

The streets seemed empty, even though it wasn’t even that late. Well… by a student’s standard, it wasn’t that late, seeing as it was nearing eleven in the evening, perhaps it was late. 

“I got our snacks,” you said, holding up a cone in each hand. Tzuyu just chuckled as she took one from your hand. She struggled for a moment to peel off the wrapping with her gloved hands, but when she did, she bit a large chunk of the ice cream, and you just gawked in awe. 

The bus had arrived by the time you finished the cones. Just as your stop arrived, Tzuyu’s music stopped. Someone was calling her. 

“What time is it?” she asked, pulling out her phone, you missed the caller’s name. 

“Like, almost midnight,” you said, getting up and guiding her out as she answered the call. 

“They’re an hour early—”

“Tzuyu-ah!” Sana’s voice shrieked into your earphones, you had to pull it out. You thanked the bus driver and wished him a good night, ignoring the way he squinted at you. 

“Do you still want to go—” Tzuyu just threw a thumbs up as she matched Sana’s voice in greeting. 

Letting her catch up with her friend, you guided her to the park you often visited, usually near midnight like tonight, and always at the children’s playground to the small swing set. 

When you helped Tzuyu into her seat, so engrossed in the call, she started taking the seat as soon as the swing hit the back of her legs, she'd have landed flat on her back had you not helped her into the seat. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you looked up to see Sana’s son wave at you. 

“Oh, oh, hey, kid,” Tzuyu sent you a look over her shoulder as you made sure she was not going to slip off the seat. “It’s good to see you again! How’re you doing, kid?” 

“I’m good, how are you?” he asked, and you parrotted the same answer, a little breathy from slouching over. 

“Sit down, will you?” Tzuyu pretended to groan, pushing your face away from her shoulder. 

The seat was made for children, so it was very very low to the ground and tiny. You had to balance yourself on your things to not flip over the seat, a moment's distraction and you could be swinging from your knees. Holding on to the chains, you pushed yourself close to Tzuyu so your face was on camera again. 

“No, seriously, how are you?” you asked again to get past the surface-level answers. “What have you been up to?”

With a wide grin, he started speaking about a recipe he had just mastered and while he did more of Tzuyu’s friends joined. Most of which you were familiar with now, having met them at two weddings and conversed with some over calls. Though you were most glad to see Sana’s son again. You’d only met him face to face once. It was at Sana's wedding during the summer. Both you and Tzuyu had been taken with him when you first met him last Christmas. Tzuyu had taken you back home with her last year, and you finally got to meet her beloved dogs, and so had Sana’s son. He’d remembered to even ask about Tzuyu’s dogs during the wedding, you spent the better part of the event showing him the videos you had. 

Ever since you’d gotten him a gift, he’d grown quite fond of you both. Now usually, it was tradition to get gifts mostly for those to be wed, but you and Tzuyu had instead decided to gift their son. You’d heard how much he loved the Percy Jackson books much like you had, so you decided to buy him the Kane Chronicles. thankfully he hadn’t read or gotten them yet. Besides, seeing as both you and Tzuyu were neck deep in student debt and as broke as they come, you weren’t really in a place to buy the newlyweds a washing machine. 

Tzuyu waved to others, while you kept him talking. “Have you read the Kane Chronicles yet?” 

The boy had an affinity to reread the same book over and over again, even if he wasn’t completed with a series. At the wedding, he’d been attached at the hip to the Son of Neptune, which was understandable. But also, the next two books are easily the best of the series. 

“I did start them!” he said, eagerly leaning away from the camera before bringing the second book in with him. “I really like it,” he said, flipping through some pages and turning the book to show it. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was too blurry to see anything but a blank white page. “But it’s not as fun as you said it would be, I still like Percy Jackson better than this series.” 

Oh.

Now, you’re at a stage in your life where you didn’t go around picking fights with children, though you will say it was a difficult urge to ignore. But something about appreciating children having different opinions from you or whatever. 

“Um, yeah, no, I—”

“Please, don’t pick a fight with a child,” Tzuyu said with a groan and the call erupted with a cacophony of laughter. You’d missed when everyone had joined. You had been hogging the call. 

“I wasn’t going to! The kid had the right to his own opinions,” you said, looking scandalized but then mumbled under your breath. “Even if it’s wrong.”

Tzuyu shoved you with a smile and you let the swing take its original spot. With a smile of your own, you let Tzuyu catch up with her friends, only waving and greeting people when she turned the phone to face you. After some wishes of Merry Christmas and farewells, the phone call had been cut. With every passing year, it was harder to meet, even during holidays when everyone was supposed to be free. In-person meetings seemed like a faraway dream, and planning a call seemed just as hectic, but somehow Tzuyu’s friends found a way. But you know Tzuyu ached to meet her friends again, some time where it wasn't a life-changing event that brought them together or where disaster didn’t strike. Just to be with them for a moment. 

You hadn’t even realized you were pushing yourself towards her, let alone kissing her on the cheek. Only when your swing recoiled back to her place and Tzuyu let out a small noise in question, did you realize what you’d done. 

“What was that for?” Tzuyu asked, her hand caressing the place where you’d kissed her. 

“I don’t know actually,” you said wistfully. “Just because.” 

Tzuyu hummed in acknowledgement as blush coloured her cheeks. You thought maybe she’d chastise you, even as a joke. But then, she did something shocking. 

Her hand pulled on your swing chain and pulled you close. 

It wasn’t the smoothest kiss. Your noses bumped into each other and the angle was wrong, but none of it really mattered because soon both your hands went to hold her as close as possible. She giggled into the kiss, no doubt, shyness creeping in as she comprehended what she’d just done. 

If it were up to you, maybe you would’ve stayed there until sunrise. 

Unfortunately, your leg, which was strained to hold you in place, slipped just as Tzuyu gently pushed you away. While you swung sideways, Tzuyu hid her face in her hands. 

A giggle from her earned from you. And before you knew it, the pair of you were laughing, hunched over and swinging lightly. 

Many things are changing, but your days will be all the same. Especially with Tzuyu by your side. And she wasn’t leaving your side any time soon.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: people really need to read kane chronicles, its literally perfect but yeah, hope you enjoyed this ! again happy new year !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

[shefanispeculator]

Time flies when you're madly in love.

Later this year, Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani will be celebrating their tenth anniversary together — and the country superstar tells PEOPLE exclusively in its latest issue that they're more in sync than ever.

"It honestly does [feel like time is flying by]. Some of the things that we talk about, we're to the point in our relationship that it's like, 'Oh, remember what happened...' and you realize, 'Oh my God, that was 8 years ago!' It's like, how did this happen so quickly?" says Shelton, 48.

But while Shelton acknowledges that "10 years is a long time," the singer — who teamed up with Stefani for a new duet on his latest album For Recreational Use Only (out May 9) — says the relationship "still feels new for me."

"I feel like that might be the key to happiness, is that it feels just as exciting and new and happy," he says.

While only one track made the album, Shelton reveals he and Stefani, 55, actually cut two duets. "We were both so fired up about both of them that we ended up holding one back for the next project," he says.

"Hangin' On" was "definitely a challenge" to record, Shelton adds, noting that he and Stefani "love to push ourselves as vocalists."

"We live together, so we walk around the house singing these songs all the time and we have months to talk about, 'Hey, maybe you jump on that part,'" explains Shelton of their process. "By the time we get to the studio, we're normally really prepared."

Stefani has long been a vulnerable songwriter, pouring her emotions into lyrics — and Shelton says she remains just as passionate about writing decades into her career.

"Gwen is way more particular when it comes to a lyric. I've never been as much of a stickler as she is. It's really important for her to be able to see herself in the lyric that she's singing vs. me. I've sung about going to prison, and there's never really been a debate," he jokes.

And while he's busy promoting his new music, the star says at the end of the day he's looking forward to a slower summer with his family, including stepsons Kingston, 18, Zuma, 16, and Apollo, 11.

"I'm looking forward to the kids being out of school. Gwen and I pretty much have our summers wide open. We both have a few shows here and there, but nothing that's tying us down to keep us from going and doing something fun," he says. "We don't have any plans — which is our favorite plan.

[varda-star-queen]

alright, I simply must know, my dear...

Adar and Ghash. details, please?!?!?!

🥰🥰🥰

Hey @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88!! TY so much for this ask!

Okay, so here goes...

You may know that Ghash is an OC drawn by the insanely talented @nekroticism.

In the origins of Adar comic drawn by her, Ghash is Adar's soul mate and true love.

Recently, @nekroticism has posted some incredible AU versions of Adar and Ghash as black-metal rockstars. With the coming of 'spice week' in June, these pictures instantly put me in mind of a steamy little story for this duo.

I haven't fully plotted it yet but the basic idea is:

Adar is a black metal icon. His ruthless and evil manager Mairon has decided to reinvent Adar's image and forces him into a high-profile collaboration with Ghash—a feral, tattooed, fan-favourite rocker. Sparks fly on and off the stage. Their explosive chemistry infuriates Mairon (a manipulator who secretly carries a torch for Adar).

Thrown together in studios, tour buses, and late-night green rooms, Adar is drawn to Ghash and her unexpected sweet side. She’s bold, dominant, and completely unafraid to take the lead—both in music and in bed (or wherever really😉).

But of course evil Mairon won’t go down quietly!!

And that's the general idea... though subject to change as soon as I start writing it 🙈🤣

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Just did a rewatch of OFMD S2 Eps 6/7 and: (Yes, it DEFINITELY got better)

*All pacing issues and some cast being in scenes when others aren't is the fault of the studios being cheap and not the writers/creators. :) Flying the cast to New Zealand + housing them for filming meant some crew just couldn't be there (Fang, Roach, Olu) or mostly written out (Buttons, Swede).

The reason this season feels *weird* is just that. It is not the fault of the actors or any of the workers in New Zealand who got jobs because they were the cheaper, nonunion, option.

I was mainly mad due to some pacing things that, after I thought about it, I don't think *I* was ready for them to make jokes about, if that makes sense. Izzy is such a personal character for me that some of the stuff they joke about just...hits.

*While the show kind of blowing off Izzy's repressed feelings for Ed did originally piss me off (the 'jealous' comment from Ed in ep 7 especially), reframing the scenes as Izzy letting himself mourn this and seeing how easily he lets Ed go does make me happy. He will love Ed. That's just a fact. But he is not his relationship with Ed he is defined by what he does with it. Yes, they can joke about it. Izzy has probably defined their relationship as something that just can't happen. Either by thinking Ed could never love him or that Ed never cared. Izzy knew Ed's attention was always fleeting and MAYBE that's some BS way we can say eps 5, 6, and 7 happened within a few days of each other. Because...if Izzy is just repressing everything again. I swear. This show will not give me the polycule I want.

*Stede and Izzy work so fucking well as friends. Like. Izzy knows how Stede will use the bar as validation and is READY to fight for him. Stede knows Izzy will stand to fight with him. The way Izzy looks so DONE when Stede starts to fight? Izzy just lost Ed god damn it. That, and the thigh grab will be in my head forever... stizzy fans also win.

*Imagine having sex with the only person you've ever loved and they ditch the next day. Add that to Stede's own insecurities and it's like the writers had a checklist on how to break Stede Bonnet.

*Ed is leaving a manic period (started maybe ep 2), and entering a depressive period in episode 6 where he remembers 'oh yeah, I fucking hate pirating'.

*Both Stede and Ed want very different things in life and this conflict was always going to happen. But at the begining of ep 6 we see Ed replaying the abuse he's caused/experienced. He's mentally framing himself as a hazard. Stede enjoys the life Ed is desperately running from. This is why Izzy is so quick to grab Stede I think. To help him understand that Ed is just...a complicated man.

*Izzy was right about Ed needing to give Stede some time to sit with the death of Ned Low. Ed barging in allowed Stede to put his negative feelings into something positive, not fully allowing him to process his actions. Ed then uses their first time as an excuse to run away.

*Izzy is hot in both episodes :) End note. But for me, the reason the Drag scene felt weird on first watch is just that I can't read half the cast's face soemtimes. Its a me thing. On this rewatch I noticed them cheering and generally being more supportive, lol.

*I wish we got to see Izzy putting the drag makeup on. Even just a line of concealer. Putting on the character he'd embody for the night. Drag is such a practice of self realizion and community. I wish we got to see Izzy staring at himself, applying the mark on his face that he clearly loves so much.

*The concept of Ned Low- A vicious torture-focused pirate, sadly was handled like a minor inconvenience, and... while I like the masochism joke from Izzy, and the implications for Stede's arc, he felt weird and out of place. Like. Instead of tying Low's bad management to something like the Navy, why not the Kraken? The stuff was there for it. Show how shitty working on a ship that prioritizes violence is, and mirror it with Ed's growth.

*I love the ship design for Ep 6 so much.

*The Ed&Izzy apology still bugs me but I have hope Izzy and Ed will talk it out a bit more after talks with some of the lovelies online

*I love the crew but acknowledge that this season has shafted a lot of stories. Clearly, the writers did what they could.

*Izzy's 'love interest' this season is clearly just the 'community/self' and finding comfort in humanity again...its so GOOD.

*Izzy casually making sex jokes is so weird. Like a coworker you've known for a few years that finally starts talking shit with you on the job. It feels weird to me now, but I also write him like this? So it's a lot of wires crossing in my mind. Like...he FUCKS!

*Same with Izzy smiling. It feels wrong in the best way. Again, I wish we had ONE MORE episode of Izzy being in the middle of healing, but this more self-realized Izzy is lovely to watch.

*They changed the gender of the song Izzy sings so he's singing about a man. I will not be normal about this.

*I'm so happy I caught Izzy's hand being that FUCKING HIGH on Stede's inner leg first watch. It's changed me. Izzy really said 'When the dogs are away the cats are out to play' and POUNCED.

*I didn't catch Izzy pointedly calling Stede captain until I saw it online and now I love it. Stede adopted the stray cat and god damn he'll stay loyal until the day he dies.

*Spoilers for the teaser: If the series Ends and Izzy is in solitary confinement/Izzy is locked away from the others I will scream

*"Hiya, Boys" I LOVE HIM. Izzy confidently grinning and being a prick is my favorite.

*izzy loving Ed enough to let him go is just....so tragic and good. Especially since we know Ed just tried to hold izzy closer in s1

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

Lemuria Pottery- Chapter one

Rafayel x y/n, pottery au?

You decide to take some pottery classes at a pottery studio run by Rafayel...

I rushed through the doors of the quaint, small, pottery studio downtown. l had always wanted to take a class here, drawn to the decor I could spot from the outside. The problem was, I had no one to go with. I had tried, and failed, many times to get someone to go with me. So I finally bit the bullet and decided to just take a pottery class alone. How bad could it be? Then I woke up late the day of the class, threw on some clothes and did my makeup on the way there. When I stepped, or really burst, through the doors, I was greeted by many eyes on me, which made me regret even coming in the first place. Even more so when it appeared everyone was there as a couple, or at least friends, but the closeness of many of them told me otherwise. “You must be (y/n)?” a voice asked. I turned to see a man tying on an apron with a smile. I nodded, stunned by his appearance and suddenly regretting my outfit choice. I had no time to really think, just throwing on some sweats and a tee shirt. “Glad you made it, there should be an open seat there,” he pointed to an empty station near the back of the room. I nodded and quickly grabbed an apron, as everyone else already had and sat down as quickly as possible. Off to such a great, embarrassing start.

The class was taught by the same man who had greeted me at the door. He introduced himself as Rafayel, the owner of the studio. We all got started, sketching a design and then learning to throw the clay on the wheel. The class I had signed up for was actually a set of classes, as I wanted to do this right. Today was the first of three. After Rafayel explained the basics of what to do, he let us try it ourselves, reminding us that today was more about getting a feel for the art, rather than completing our entire project in that class. I had decided to play it safe and attempt to make a simplistic vase. But that was more for next week, today I was just focusing on trying to understand what affected the clay and how. Needless to say, I was struggling. I took a peek around the room, watching a couple working together on their piece. Another couple just having fun with the clay. Rafayel walked around, helping those he could. I sighed. This was a terrible idea. I should have known the class would be filled with couples. I sighed, looking down at the clump of clay on my wheel. I couldn’t let my money go to waste though, so I had to make this vase and I wanted it to be good. So I began again, attempting to slowly press down my foot on the pedal and wrapping my hands around the clay to shape it. It thunked against my hands, the wheel beginning to spin too fast before I quickly lifted my foot off the pedal in fear of the clump flying across the room. Unknown to me, Rafayel had watched the scene, a small smirk on his face. “Try adding some more water to it,” he instructed me. I looked up at him, his presence only just being known to me. “Oh, uh, okay,” I answered. I moved my hands to the bowl of water next to me and dipped my hands in, adding water to the clay. I looked up at him and he nodded. So I continued, readying my hands and beginning to add pressure to the pedal to make the wheel spin. And it all went wrong. I miscalculated the pressure my foot was adding, making the wheel spin far faster than it should. The added water made the clay slide around, flinging small clumps of watery clay onto my face and clothes. I yelped, immediately moving my hands away and lifting my foot up. But the clay didn’t like not being held while spinning fast and it jumped off of the wheel straight towards Rafayel. He was quick, catching it before it hit him in the stomach. My jaw dropped in shock. “Oh my God…I am so sorry,” I said, stunned. “I- well, I don't even know what happened. Good God this is the worst. I’m sorry-” I began stuttering, still in utter shock. I heard a gentle laugh and looked to see Rafayel trying hard not to laugh. Failing, and bursting into laughter. 

“Is your foot made of lead? I’ve never seen a wheel spin so fast!” he laughed, causing some of the couples to look over and see what he was laughing at, some hiding their laughter from me. My face heated up and I began to sweat, completely embarrassed and feeling a panic attack approach. I lowered my head, screaming at my brain to calm down and ignore their laughter. Why did I think this was a good idea? Slowly, Rafayel crouched down and met my eyes, tears beginning to well up in them and I avoided eye contact. “Hey,” he softly said, attempting to grab my attention, but failing to grab my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s no big deal, really. I’ve done plenty worse in my days. Why don’t you go wash up and then I can help you when you’re feeling a bit better, yeah?” I nodded, wanting to get away and honestly never come back to this studio again. “Head up the stairs and go in the door to the right. There’s a bathroom down the hall to the left, second door on the left, got it?” I nodded, though was a bit confused on where this supposed bathroom was. I was under the impression this studio only had one floor. Rafayel extended his hand to me and I nervously took it, him pulling me to my feet and nodding his head in the direction of a staircase I had only just now noticed. I quickly made my way to the stairs, not daring to look at anyone in the room. How embarrassing. 

There was only one door when you went up the stairs, so that’s the one I went through and was suddenly confused. I was met with the view of a cluttered, but chic living room. Does Rafayel live above the pottery studio? Why had he told me to go up here for a bathroom? Blinking away some tears that had escaped, I turned to the left to see a hallway and went down it to find a bathroom. It was a standard bathroom, though honestly it was much easier to calm down in than a typical public restroom. I sat on the edge of the bath, steadying my breath. Once I began to feel calmer, the embarrassment slightly less painful, I stood to take in my appearance. I had bits of clay everywhere. I winced at the sight. I turned on the sink and attempted to get off as much as I could, frowning as I realized my makeup would come off with it. It was that or clay all over my face, so I chose no makeup and clay. I took another deep breath before opening the door and heading back through what I assumed was Rafayel’s place. I felt like I was impeding on his space, but I couldn’t help but glance at the artwork spread throughout. There were gorgeous paintings as well as pottery, equally as aesthetic. I shut the door behind me and quickly made my way back downstairs and to my seat. Thankfully, no one seemed to pay attention to it. I knew most people wouldn’t even remember the fiasco, instead remembering how much fun they had with their significant other, but I surely would remember. A few minutes after I sat down, Rafayel came over to me. “I’m sorry again, I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, keeping his voice down for only me to hear. I shook my head. 

“You’re fine, really. It’s just a me thing,” I chuckled. He nodded. 

“Better now though? Wanna try again?” he asked. I nodded. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat it down next to mine, sitting in it. I grew nervous at the close proximity. He was close. “I’ll start with the pressure on the wheel, think of it like you’re driving, you don’t want to floor it. I’ll begin and then you join- are you listening?” he suddenly tilted his head, smirking. I snapped out of whatever that was and nodded. “You’re going to use the pedal and then I’ll join,” I repeated his instructions. He nodded and smiled. He pressed down, the wheel beginning to spin. Then nodded at me. I moved my foot next to his, pressing down. “Up a bit, you’re putting more pressure than I am,” he noted. I nodded, doing as he said. “There, just like that, yeah. Perfect. See? Now it’s at a manageable pace.” I nodded. He took his foot off the pedal, just allowing me to get used to it, encouraging me or telling me to let up a bit. “Now that you have that, try doing what you did earlier, but this time it's not spinning quite so fast. Make sure to use a bit more water and make sure you have a good hold on the clay.” I nodded and slowly did as he instructed, finally successfully making the clay move. I felt myself begin to smile, finally getting somewhere as the clay raised with my hands. “Perfect,” I heard Rafayel say, looking to see him smile before standing and placing a hand on my shoulder before going to go help a couple who was struggling. I spent the rest of the class getting used to the feeling of the clay and attempting to shape it in different ways. 

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Mustache

warning : minors don't interact/read, smut pure smut, afab reader, no use of Y/n, reader is female, both are working in the korn industry

Summary : A naive girl and a photographer that was the plan for the new story of the adult film. But when her real partner drops out and a new one appears, how good can he be? Really good

Info : This little thing is inspired by This post from @cuntyculkin because I mean the mustache...it just screams 80s korn just saying. Have fun reading this video ;)

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

°It was supposed to be a simple shoot, a scenario with a naive woman and a very very lustful photographer. Something that was actually found on each of the pages. At least that's what she thought, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

°In the small preparation room she had already put on the tight and especially short dress which was torn off her body in a few moments anyway. Dan from the tight fabric itself that pressed against her bust and the small button that held it together above could still fly against her.

°Walking out of the room, her high heels made a recurring noise as she arrived in the room that already looked exactly as it should. A strikingly understated photo studio with a big red couch in the middle. Her actual destination.

°But when she looked around for her actual shooting partner, with whom she had already shot many things, she found only the team and another man. Who had posed with the cameraman and seemed to get on famously with him.

°But when she was told that he was standing in for her partner, she couldn't help but smile a little. ,,What's so funny?" he had asked as they faced each other, only a few minutes later they would be on the couch.

°His longer hair that seemed immensely soft and the black turtleneck jumper were cute. But his moustache she couldn't help but think was a leftover from the eighties. The porno mustache itself and yet somehow it suited him together with the cream-coloured trousers and black shoes. It suited him.

°It not only suited him, it suited him perfectly. What was always just an act in her carrer and rarely even real was something completely different with him. What started with a few intimate kisses turned into something stronger when he moved between her legs.

°Actually something else had been planned but she had simply gone along with it. He seemed to have his own plan and my god he could use his tongue he ate her like a madman. While his fingers ran over her body leaving red stripes and massaging her breasts roughly which only made her moan louder.

°The words he murmured to her between the obscene noises and continued to use her made her whimper. Her thighs closed tighter around his head but he didn't seem to mind. Instead he seemed to lose himself more and more before her fingers caught in his hair. He heard his own groan between her noises as her grip tightened before she came moments later.

°But for him, it only seemed to make her more attractive. Greedily, he lapped up her juices and ran them over his lips before engaging her in another kiss. Unprepared and breathing heavily, she just let him have it and let himself be used with complete pleasure. Because he was good fucking good.

°Taking care of her lust first, he directed her to the couch and came up to her before she heard him take his belt. She murmured something in praise, making him smile, "We're just getting started sugar," he replied, tying the belt around her wrists. Kissing and biting her way down her body, her body rose every now and then.

°She wanted him closer, needed more of him, but more she got. Only seconds later when he had opened his trousers and she saw his aroused cock she swallowed. Not out of discomfort of the camera but out of horniness knowing it would be inside her.

°He was perfect, both of them. Himself and his cock. Long and wide enough to fill her while praising sweet nothings passed his lips. The words that only triggered more lust and arousal inside her. To have more of him before she closed her legs around his waist and pulled him against her despite the slight trembling of her body still surrounding her. His lust and desire had taken hold of both of them as they fell into deep, hot kisses again and again.

°His hands ran over her body and turned to her breasts. His lips were on her buds, making her cry out as he bit down. Not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to bring her to the edge of her endurance. The rough text she had learned was long forgotten and completely unnecessary. Her moans, the meeting of skin, the thrusting and his murmurs were the only things filling the room. Even the crew seemed taken in.

°But it seemed to be true, the man with the porno mustache was a sex god.

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

@thatsthewrongwallcraig ,@icarus-star @crypticsewerslut ,@spookyorchid ,@madamemaximoff06 ,@shady-the-simp ,@cc-luvr