#i have been thinking about this movie nonstop almost

[alphazed]

So .... Remember that Dune fanart? Yeah... I DREW EM HEHEAHA

These are Feyd-Rautha, Duke Leto and Stilgar. Altough stilgar doesn't fully look like stilgar but fuck it

These are all doodles from a doodle page! (I'm not posting the other things on the doodle sheet because those kinda uh.... Didn't work out hehe)

But enjoy these!! Because i'm very proud of them!!!

I've been getting waaaay better at drawing baron Harkonnen at school, i think it freaked out my teachers a bit lmao

[rbrownillustration]

I don’t know how to give a spoiler alert on this website but if I can warn you here it is. This is vague enough though it’s not too much??? Maybe????

Anyways, I saw Transformers: One yesterday and have been thinking about it nonstop ever since. It’s beautiful. Almost perfect. Sensational. 10/10 would recommend please go see it if you have any Transformers love in your bones and even if you don’t. It’s just a good story.

As for the spoilery part, don’t read ahead as I talk about this piece if you don’t want some spoilers.

What kills me about this movie is, yes, Orion and D-16’s friendship, but also Bee and Elita coming together as a team as the four of them. Bee particularly, as it would be assumed he is the youngest and the least experienced in their little group and needs them potentially the most.

I would say there’s a direct parallel you could make between Bee and D-16 throughout the movie. As both of them move from blind loyalty in the status quo to having to accept that the system they live in is set up against them and the power that they trusted is false and vile.

D-16 is a fascinating case of losing trust in anyone and anything because of that betrayal. The movie does a fantastic job of justifying (not excusing) the rise of Megatron and truly emphasizes how tragic of a character he really is, beyond just the violent rebel we’ve gotten used to.

Bee on the other hand shifts quickly to lean on the support and trust of his friends (maybe he is more inclined to as they are literally his only option), and to still hold his faith in Primus and the true Primes, ultimately following Optimus.

Anyways, this illustration I whipped up this evening is in the climax of the film when Sentinel Prime has captured much of the High Guard, as well as D-16 and Bee. D pulls the ballsy move of refusing to kneel to the false Prime. They discuss Megatronus Prime for a bit, Sentinel drawing attention to D’s Megatronus decal. Then Sentinel decides that D-16 should always have a reminder of that dead Prime, and brands a crude likeness of Megatronus on his chest with a laser gun.

Above all else I think that this is potentially the final turning point for D-16. This isn’t the point of no return (see end of film when Sentinel gets his due) but I see it as D-16 losing faith completely in both the true Primes of the past (Megatronus), and the false Prime of the present (Sentinel), leading him straight to the point later where he won’t trust his future to anyone but himself. Not even Orion. I wanted to explore this moment visually so while I was at work the composition for this piece slowly started forming in my head and I knew I wanted to bring both D-16 and Bee into the focal point.

[godjo]

tags — gojou x f!reader x bf!getou. ꒰ explicit smut. spitroasting. threesome. fellatio. cunnilingus. both are pussywhipped. fingering. facial. mindbreak. minors, blank, and ageless blogs dni. ꒱

from hunter — it is ovulation time, i have no excuse. i’ve been thinking too much about getou lately and this is the result. ✮

it’s just a silly, fun game, prompted by none other than your boyfriend’s best friend. nobody would’ve foreseen that the end of a movie night will have your pussy pounded by gojou while getou’s balls are smothered all over your sticky face.

“mhm, like that, pretty girl?” your boyfriend, getou, asks with an impish grin adorning his lips. his cock swells inside your mouth, proud and hard against your salivating tongue. balls clapping your chin, his bush tickling your nostrils.

of course, it’s impossible to respond, let alone signal anything because you’re too fucked out of your wits. the whites of your eyes continue to dominate, your mouth nonstop in its slabbering because damn it all, gojou fucks like a rabid animal.

sure, gojou has always been nasty, freaky in his own grandiose way. and it’s because of him why the three of you ended up naked, sweaty, and fucking each other to bliss. but gods, he’s never expected your pussy to feel like this.

he’s milking his cock with your velvet, tight walls from root to tip. cocktip tingling every time it kisses your cervix. your cunt has already made a mess, pussy juices painting your puffed up cunt lips and gojou’s heavy balls. it’s impossible to stop fucking you when you grip him like a lifeline.

“enjoyin’ yourself, satoru?” getou teases, seeing gojou’s feverish eyes, a dainty pink crawling over the apples of his cheeks. “c’mon, use your big boy words.”

“well, fuck you, suguru,” gojou answers between shallow breaths. he chuckles, then, deep and throated. “‘s this why you’re so goddamn pussywhipped?”

“damn right,” getou hisses, the unexpected swirl of your tongue around his cocktip snatching air from his lungs. “gettin’ greedy now, angel?” he coos, cupping both your ears to pin his pelvis against your face. “oh, fuck, your mouth feels amazing, pretty.”

“and your pussy, too,” gojou leans forward and whispers in the shell of your ear. “never fucked anything like this before.”

gojou’s nails dig craters in your soft flesh while he ruts into you at a pace that has your eyes tearing up. his cock feels so good— your brain almost shuts down because of the sensation if not for getou.

your boyfriend smiles fondly down at you, edged with thick mischief, as he pulls his cock out from your mouth and taps your cheek with his puffy cocktip. he shoves his balls between your lips, the ridge of his girth resting on the bridge of your nose while you suckle on his balls hefty with unreleased cum. getou’s lips went ajar, stars dancing in his eyes, crimson dusting his cheeks.

you chuckle, breathless and elated. he’s so handsome when he’s losing his mind over you.

“angel, my precious baby, you’re a naughty thing, aren’t you?” he shoves his cock inside your mouth again, this time fucking the inside of your cheek.

the lewd and unfiltered sounds he echoes send bolts down your spine, causing your damped pussy to clamp hard around gojou’s girth.

he throws his head back, biting his lips so hard they would bleed. gojou’s so close— and yet he wants to seize the moment, fucking himself with your pussy until his balls tighten and he’s only seconds from pumping your womb with cum.

gojou and getou pull out at the same time. their hesitation to let you go palpable in the ache between their chests. ache that’s been augmented by their climax. all you can hear are their mindless moaning and gasping and pumping.

getou’s heavy and viscid cum shoots up your face. to your cheeks, mouth, nose, and even eyelids. while gojou sends his own sticky cum all over your back.

the three of you falls on the couch, collecting the shattered sanity you’ve spent from hours of fucking. your body automatically searches for getou’s warmth, and he takes you in his arm, kissing the top of your head.

“sorry, pretty, i’ve made such a mess,” he murmurs as he wipes his cum from your face with his shirt. “look at me baby, let me kiss you.”

getou guides you on his lap. his strong, warm hands cup your heated cheeks, before claiming your lips. his hands roam around your body, locking you in, your sticky cunt pulsing against his flaccid cock.

“i love, love, love you,” he tells you hotly, each word laced with open-mouthed kisses. “wanna eat your pussy, angel. can i eat your pussy?”

“‘course, suguru,” you whisper in his mouth. “want to feel you. let me feel you, please?”

he swiftly shifts your position. you’re laying on the couch; getou pitches himself between your legs. he spreads your thighs apart, sniffing your tingling pussy before lapping on the soft folds.

“mhm, suguru, just like that— hah—” you bite your fingers, feeling getou’s warm tongue licking all over your cunt. threading his raven hair with your shaking fingers, you pull his face close and locks his head with your thighs.

“suguru, you know that’s like giving me a blowjob, right?” gojou poses from the nearest sofa. he’s still naked, as though he cannot move at all, but those piercing blue eyes are glued to the image before him.

getou merely gives him a lackadaisical finger; he cannot be bothered by anything, not even gojou’s teasing, once he’s got his tongue kitten licking your clit.

“‘m so close, baby, please—” you declare, hot tears springing in your eyes again. getou parts your fold with two fingers, pumping your pussy while licking your clit and losing himself on the job of making you come on his tongue.

like shockwaves in your brain, your ass rises from the couch, chasing the zenith, but getou holds you firmly. you shout his name, crying and screaming and moaning, because god— he’s not stopping even though you’re breaking from the pleasure of it all.

“suguru— hah—” you fall limp on your position, clueless about what to do, as another wave of release washes over you. you’re shaking, twitching, drooling under his mercy.

he snatches you in his arms again, soothing you with gentle confessions of his love, of how you’ve been so good for him, and how he’s crazy only for you.

you’re on the verge of falling asleep when a soft kiss falls on your bare shoulder. eyes heavy with fatigue, you follow its owner, just to see gojou preparing to leave.

“i’m leaving now. do you need anything?” he dials his phone on his way to the door, muttering different kinds of food and ordering everything to be delivered to getou’s place. there’s mischief on gojou’s face as he waves goodbye. “we should do this again sometime, don’t you think?”

“fuck off, satoru,” getou drawls with a knowing smile.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” his best friend replies, followed by trails of smoky laughter before he closes the door. <3

2024 godjo — do not repost, edit, or copy.

[mouwrites]

Creepypasta/MH - How They Would Welcome You Back (after not seeing you for a while)

Characters: Nina the Killer, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Tim/Masky, Jane the Killer

Nina

Shouts your name when she sees you, and BOLTS into you

She crashes against you, almost losing her balance from the sheer force

Her arms are flung around you, pinning your own arms to your sides with surprising strength

"Eek! Y/n! Aah... I missed you so much!"

She giggles as she finally lets you go, settling her hands on your shoulders while she looks at you with a huge smile

She compliments your appearance eagerly, and blushes when you do the same

She can't stop giggling throughout the whole process though

Literally nonstop... but she's just so happy!!

Normally she'd suggest a more exciting hangout, like stalking people at the mall or... y'know... putting the laughter in slaughter or smth legal activities

But this time she just wants to stay home and hold you :3

And maybe watch a movie with ice cream too!

Jeff

Pretends to be all nonchalant about it

"Oh, you're back. Hey."

Especially if others are around

But his eyes keep lingering on you, and though you're across the room it feels like he's looming over you

His presence is just so..... unsettling? Like, more than usual lol

Bro's just watching so closely

It'd make anyone nervous, but if you're dating Jeff you're definitely crazy enough not to be too disturbed

Because you know what's actually waiting for you when you're alone

Not murder, but:

He throws an arm around your shoulder and another under your knees, scooping you up wordlessly

Then it's cuddle time :]

He'll be doing something else while you cuddle, and he won't say anything, but if you try to move or get up he'll glare daggers at you

In his mind, you're making up for lost time together

Eyeless Jack

He'd have been waiting for your return

No matter how long he had to wait, he was always ready

Clean home (well, as clean as a cannibalistic demon's home can be), hot food ready, fluffy blankets on the bed...

So when you finally do come, he gets straight to the point

The point being spoiling you ofc

He loves taking care of you; that's his way of showing affection

So he's just excited to finally do that again!

He wouldn't have given you any physical affection when seeing you I think

The most he'd have done would've been to grab your hand to lead you along

"Y/n! I'm so glad to see you again... come on, everything's ready for you."

Tim/Masky

He's dumbfounded when he sees you again

Like, he just blinks at you

It's as if he never expected you to return :(

"Y/n..?"

Then he pulls you into a hug, finally processing the fact that you're there

The same smell of cigarettes and coffee fills your nose, and you breathe it in deeply

(He's lowkey doing the same with your smell)

The hug finishes with one more super-tight squeeze, then he pulls away to look at your face

"Hey."

He's so smooth guys <3

But on a real note, he's just so surprised to see you; he doesn't know how to react

Trust me though, he's never letting you go again

Jane

I think she'd have something planned too

So when she sees you again, she gets really excited

She tries to keep it somewhat cool though, greeting you warmly with a kiss on the cheek and a hug

But you can tell she's trying not to act excited... she's rocking on her heels way more than "usual" (never)

Finally she tells you to close your eyes, and you can really tell she's excited now

She puts something in your hands and kisses you on the mouth

When you open your eyes, you see a jewelry box in your hand

It's your favorite form of jewelry (ring, necklace, bracelet, anklet, etc) in your favorite gemstone/color!!

She loves seeing you wear the things she gets you, especially when she puts so much thought into them

Just like she did this time ;3

Bit of a different style from the other one, but here we go!! Thank you so much for reading, take care my duckies! <3

(divider by saradika)

[luxaofhesperides]

puddle

Your writing is amazing btw

Danny is usually fine with the cold. He's got an ice core, he's practically made for the cold. But Gotham autumn cold is another monster, especially when it comes with so much rain.

The city is constantly damp and dreary, switching between sprinkling on and off to a heavy deluge of rain.

Listen, he can handle the cold but not the cold and wet. That's just asking for too much.

He says as much to Duke over the phone, peering out from under the awning of the theater he's trapped at, hoping the rain will let up soon. It hadn't been raining when he left the apartment earlier to watch a movie, killing time until Jazz got back from her internship with Gotham's social services, so Danny had been caught totally unprepared when he stepped outside and got hit with a spray of rain as a bus drove past.

Duke laughs at him, his voice carrying a little static over the phone, and Danny pouts. No point in hiding it when no one's around to see it.

"How have you not learned to always carry an umbrella with you by now?" Duke asks, amusement coloring his voice. "Hasn't it already been a year since you moved here?"

Danny pouts and stares out into the heavy sheets of rain coming down just a few feet in front of him. "I was running late to the showing so I didn't check the weather! And it was almost nice out earlier so I thought it would be fine."

"Alright, new question: how have you not learned to stop trusting Gotham's weather? If it's good, then it'll get worse. If it's bad, it'll stay bad. That's how it is."

"This city is out to get me," Danny complains. "If I get sick because of this rain, just leave me to die."

"You're so dramatic," Duke says fondly.

"You would be too, if you were stuck out here." He takes a step to stand just beneath the edge of the awning and peers up at the sky. Heavy gray clouds hang above the city, hiding the sky from horizon to horizon. The wind isn't strong today, which means the clouds are barely moving. No doubt the lower streets have already begun to flood, water rising as storm drains struggle to keep up with the heavy rain. He sighs and reaches back to draw his hood up to cover his head. "I think I'm just gonna have to make a run for it."

Noise erupts from Duke's end of the call; rustling, doors slamming, metal moving. "Wait, stay where you are! You're at Harbor Theater, right?"

"Yeah."

"Give me like ten minutes. Don't move!" And then the call ends without another word, leaving Danny to blink out at the rain, confused. He pulls his phone away from his ear, stares down at the screen where "Call ended" stares back up at him, and shrugs.

Sure. Okay. This might as well happen.

He retreats back to the door, more protected from the rain, and leans against the brick wall of the building to wait. It's only ten minutes, and he's not in a rush to do anything else today, so he can wait. As long as he stays mostly dry, he'll be fine.

Despite his many complaints about the rain, Danny does enjoy Gotham storms. They're quiet and steady, with only the really big storms carrying thunder into the city. The storms in Amity Park were always loud, with howling winds and earthshaking thunder, lightning flashing nonstop until it was over. Compared to that, Gotham rain is peaceful; the steady patter of raindrops against windows is soothing and has made him fall asleep more than once. As long as he's safe and warm inside, he likes the rain.

As it is, when he's outside and stuck hiding beneath an awning, he very much does not like the rain.

The street is mostly empty as everyone with common sense is inside where it's dry. A few cars pass by, driving fast despite how hard it must be to see, and send water splashing towards him. He's just outside the splash zone, thankfully, but that doesn't stop him from glaring and muttering curses to those drivers.

Danny sighs again and closes his eyes, hoping to make the time pass by faster if he makes his mind drift.

It doesn't feel like it's been ten minutes when he hears Duke call his name. It barely even feels like five. Danny opens his eyes and pushes off the wall, looking down the street where he can see a bright yellow umbrella moving up and down as Duke runs through the rain to meet him. Did he really run all this way, just to get Danny an umbrella? That's really sweet. Danny bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too much like some kind of lovesick fool.

Which he is, to be fair, but he doesn't need to show that.

"Dude," he says when Duke reaches him, stumbling to a stop under the awning to catch his breath. "Did you seriously run from your place to here? Don't you live on the other side of Gotham?"

Duke shakes his head and takes a moment to catch his breath. "I was nearby," he says, gesturing vaguely behind him, "Don't worry about it. You heading back home?"

"That was the plan, yeah."

"I'll walk you then. C'mon."

Duke offers his elbow as though escorting Danny to the ball. Danny takes it, stepping beneath the umbrella, so cheerfully yellow it almost feels aggressive. "My hero," he teases. "My knight under yellow umbrella."

"Listen, it was the only one I had that wasn't broken and it was a joke gift from a friend."

"A joke gift?"

"It's a Signal umbrella. Look at the handle."

Danny looks. The curve of the handle ends in a bat symbol. "That's amazing," he says, biting back a laugh as they step out into the rain. The umbrella protects them, but he can see that both their shoulders are getting wet; it's hard to fit two bodies beneath one umbrella. He pulls at Duke's arm, tugging him closer, so they can both fit more securely under the umbrella, walking arm in arm down the street.

It would have been nearly perfect if it wasn't for the fact that the streets were full of rainwater and a step into a puddle too big to avoid leaves his shoes and socks wet.

"Aw, man," he groans, frowning at his shoes. "I just can't win today."

"You used up all your good luck calling me," Duke jokes.

"Worth it, if it gets me you," Danny says without thinking. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and regrets because flirting with Duke has become a habit when they became friends, and it's a dangerous habit know that Danny's figured out his massive crush on Duke.

"Sweet talker," Duke retaliates. He's unfazed, carrying on normally, so Danny relaxes. As long as he can keep his crush quiet alongside his many other secrets, he's fine.

Leaning into him a little more, Danny ducks his head to hide a smile as they keep walking. Under one umbrella, together under the sheets of rain, it feels like there's no one else in the world but them.

Maybe there is something to enjoy about rainy autumn days.

Even if it ends with him walking home in waterlogged socks.

[sonotkari]

Tiny Bits Of Love

Kim Minji x Fem Reader

[ Synopsis ]

Your nonchalant looking seatmate was the last person you expected to get answers on what love was. Maybe they were more than sticky memo pads.

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.3k

[ a/n ]

Another random idea popped out at midnight + written in a short span of time + w/ rush + without a single thought in mind so heads up! Yes this isn't the one I spoiled heck I don't even know if that's gonna be published lmao Casually dropping this and dissapearing again /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

To lonely nights craving for love, dis for u bae <3

It is said that first impressions are made in the first three seconds of your interactions. "She looks scary" was yours the moment you laid eyes on your seatmate, Kim Minji. Not like the rest, laughing on whatever topic they were chit-chatting around, she was quietly sitting on her seat looking in front without a thought. She looked so nonchalant and you, who were usually― no, always surrounded by loud lively people, it wasn't helped when you felt unease, glancing at the girl with a straight expression on her face. She almost looks like that one emoji with a straight-lined mouth. And that may be your second impression of her. But as they say "Third time's a charm" or you weren't really sure whether that was the right phrase to imply but still, it felt something like that at your third impression of Minji which changed very differently from the previous ones. You were right all along at the fact that lively people always surrounded you and that thought became stronger at each smack you earned from her laughing her ass out beside you. Minji was far from nonchalant. She laughed at anything and everything whether it was that one crappy joke the History teacher made or those lame dad jokes one of your friends would yell out. Always smacked someone's shoulder while she was bursting out laughing with whatever she found funny. And if we're going straight to the point here, you fell in love with the girl.

You weren't getting at first why you felt so happy and giddy as well when she was, or why seeing her smile looking your way even if it wasn't her intention to make your heart pound like crazy but later on your friend was the one smacking the shit out of you laughing because apparently, you were dense. "Y/n, don't you get it? That's love… You're in love!!" and that was the moment everything sank in. Love. You've already heard that term a million times if not a billion times throughout your life. You've seen the movies, read the books, and been there on the sidelines when your friends fell in love with somebody and needed support. You had a few crushes back then but come to think of it, you just liked them because everybody else did, not knowing how the feelings worked. Nodding and responding with a hum every time the other girls would coo about these boys saying "He's so cool/handsome" every 5 seconds. But now thinking of Minji, it makes your heart pound and wonder why or how she makes you so happy with small things like linking your arms while walking down the hallway or sitting beside each other at classes you had with her. So this is love.

And now that it sank into you what love was, well not maybe entirely but at least you understood what it felt like to be in love, the next thing you know you were pouring it nonstop on Minji. Giving random gifts like cream puffs you bought because it reminded you of her or strawberry lattes which was her favorite drink of all time with a memo note stuck on it with short messages written like "Have a great day" or "I'll see you again later" which you could've just texted to her anyways but there was just something about taking your time to write them. The way Minji would rush at you with a smile while holding those memos thanking you every single time was definitely making you fall for her more. Her smile, her laugh, every single thing she does, you find it all cute adoring her every second, your eyes refusing to tear out from the sight of the girl. Minji's face was the one you'd instantly notice in a crowd, she was the one you'd always find for every short or long period break, and her existence was the only thing you'd look forward to at school. It came to the point where you couldn't hold on to your feelings anymore and firmly placed a letter on Minji's hand on her way home without making eye contact, doing your best to voice out words despite your flustered state. "Read it when you get home. Alone!"

A letter might've been too much, you really didn't know since everything was a first-time experience. But knowing you'd stutter in an instant if you confessed to her face to face and not being able to tell her your feelings because of it, you'd rather write it all and be thought of as cheesy or whatever than regret not being able to tell her properly. All your worries were washed away when you saw her the next morning with a beaming smile on her face, telling you straightforwardly: "I like you too"

That was exactly 4 years ago and now, you were organizing things, deciding which item goes to which box since you and Minji were moving to a different apartment soon. Even if it was hard to throw away, you had to get rid of things that you won't need for the future because securing space was a very big deal when it comes to apartments. So there you were looking through every stuff making sure you wouldn't take anything unscary with you, until you came across a small box. You don't remember seeing it before so it was probably Minji's. "Love is this yours?" Looking back at her putting some of her stuff inside boxes, Minji turned your way as she slightly lifted her black-framed glasses. "Oh yeah, that's mine…!" Half surprised, half excited, she quickly went your way and sat beside you carefully taking the box from your hands as if it was the most venerable thing. "I almost forgot about this" "What is it??" Curiously shifting your gaze from the box to Minji, she flashed a smile before slowly opening the box. Not noticing what it was at first but then, you out a loud gasp as you took a thing out of the box, examining it with a surprised expression. "You still had this!?" You say as you look at the yellow sticky pad with the memo "Have a great day" written in bad handwriting.

There were a couple more inside the box and looking at them one by one reminded you of the days back then. "You kept it…? But they're just memo pads…" "No…" Minji softly murmurs, looking down with a glimpse of affection at the memo pads you were holding. "They're more than memo pads. They're reminders of how much you cared and thought for me back then, before you gave this to me" She pulls out a familiar small brown envelope. "Oh my god, Minji!?" You excitedly squealed as that envelope was the love letter you shoved her in a rush 4 years ago. Scooting over and sitting between Minji's legs as she wrapped her arms around you getting comfortable, you re-read the whole letter with grunts and nose scrunching in cringe along the way. "God, this is so embarrassing…" Minji outs a soft laugh while she rests her chin on your shoulder, probably also re-reading your confession to her, feeling the nostalgia and rewinding all the memories at the back of her head.

Looking back at the box and what it contained inside, your eyes grow bigger every second seeing that Minji kept all the trinkets, bracelets you made her to match, receipts from when you both went out shopping all day, weird-shaped key chains you used to find cute back then, little notes you'd pass at each other during class while the teacher wasn't paying attention. "Literally everything…?" Feeling your girlfriend's embrace tighten on you and her face buried probably because she got a bit embarrassed that you found her little treasure box, you felt the overwhelming sensation of affection wash all over your chest as you smiled looking back and trying to face Minji who would look anywhere but your eyes. "Of course, I kept everything" She finally murmured with a sheepish smile. "Every single thing represents the tiny bits of love we have for each other"

Minji fixes her black-framed glasses again before looking at you full of adoration in her eyes.

"That's how I have you in my arms right now, yeah?"

creating a memory box is one of the best things

[emilys-bangs]

malleable | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, mom!emily, no use of yn, reader isn't really present in this fic, halloween

Summary: Emily hates Halloween (but when her daughter asks her to dress up with her, she can't refuse).

Word count: 2.1k

If there’s anything Emily’s daughter is, it’s obsessed with Tangled. The movie plays at least three times a week on your living room TV; you and Emily have memorized the dialogue somewhere around three months ago. Now you can easily recite it in your sleep, close your eyes and clearly picture Rapunzel and Eugene’s next moves.

Despite that, your daughter still remains infatuated. Which is why Emily is only briefly surprised when Eloise drops her hand with a gasp and takes off running to the end of the costume aisle, colorful lights bursting along her sneakers as she runs to the purple dress packaged beneath a picture of the princess.

“This one!”

Emily smothers her smile as Eloise rises on the very tips of her tiptoes, her fingers wriggling impatiently as she tries to reach the costume. She falls a few inches short, and her displeasure is immediately known in the twist of her lips.

“Mommy.” She whines at her mother’s slow approach.

“Hmm,” Emily hums. “How many times have we said not to run off, Eloise? You know you can’t do that when we’re outside.” She sweeps messy bangs away from Eloise’s eyes—the exact same shade as her own.

“Sorry. Can I have it? Please?” She settles back on the soles of her feet and hugs Emily’s legs. “Please, please, Mommy.” Her mouth curls into a pleading pout.

The long repeated reprimand fades into the background. Your daughter is usually good at following it, almost always content with holding either your hand or Emily’s, so she smiles softly and lets it go this once. 

“How about we see it first, yeah sweetheart?” One of her hands goes to Eloise’s back as she grabs the costume off the shelf. Shades of purple wink up at her through the clear plastic, peeking out from beneath Rapunzel’s picture and the picture of the little girl displaying it. “Cute,” she says, absently combing her fingers through Eloise’s hair.

“Wanna see.”

Emily bends over to get closer to Eloise, letting her take the costume from her hands. “What do you think?” She murmurs, brushing her daughter’s bangs over the soft arch of her eyebrows. “Do you like it?”

“Yes!” Eloise gasps.

The palpable excitement in her voice makes the garish costume store a little more bearable. Emily smiles as she adjusts the hem of Eloise’s sweater down her stomach, having risen up in her strenuous pursuit of the costume. “Are you sure that’s the one you want? We haven’t seen many others.”

“Wanna be Rapunzel.” Eloise says firmly, nodding to herself as she hugs the dress to her chest.

“Alright, well if you’re sure,” Emily laughs, not in the least bit surprised at her five-year-old’s resoluteness. It’s something she’d gotten directly from her; Emily’s heart only expands at seeing roots of herself grow in her daughter.

“I’m sure.” Eloise drags out the word, stretching it out so it sounds like duh.

“Okay. Let me see if that’s your size.” Emily holds out her hand. With great reluctance, Eloise hands her the costume. Emily huffs out an amused laugh as she straightens, distantly wondering where her daughter got such an intense love for Halloween from. You’re mostly indifferent, and she hates it with more passion than it deserves. But your little gremlin has been talking nonstop about her costume for the past week, and after a brief debate—which Emily lost—you finally found the time to take her.

Though Emily feels two little arms wrap around her thigh, she places a hand on Eloise’s head for extra measure. Small fingers tickle her through her jeans as she rifles through the costumes, humming until she finds the proper size.

“Here it is. I think that’s about it—”

“I’m gonna be Rapunzel and you’re Mother Gospel!” Eloise announces as she steals the costume from Emily’s hands. Emily’s brows furrow.

“Gothel.”

“Garthel.”

Every time.

Emily lets it go. Instead she focuses on the more pressing issue her daughter presented. “You want me to be your evil Mommy?” She frowns at Eloise, the pout of her lips exaggerated.

Eloise is unfazed. “You’re not my evil Mommy, you’re ’punzle’s evil Mommy.” She says sagely. The circles of her eyes are wide, a shine to them that almost always ensures she’s going to get what she wants. “And I’m Rapunzel so you have to be her Mommy.” She reasons.

Emily swallows a grimace at the hopeful tone in her voice. Her distaste for Halloween peeks through her love for her daughter, the two conflicting sides clashing together as she looks down at the five-year-old expectantly tilting her chin up. 

“Honey, I don’t really like wearing costumes for Halloween.” Emily says, slowly, as if it’ll soften the blow.

Eloise frowns. “Why?”

“Uhh...” It’s not the easiest thing to explain to her toddler that she despises the holiday partly because of her inability to unsee masked unsubs everywhere. But really a huge part of it Emily doesn’t understand herself; the unrestrained chaos of it, the headache of coming up with a costume each year, and—in more recent years—swapping out the candy after her daughter has passed out. It’s more hassle than it deserves, and Emily simply doesn’t have the patience for it.

“I don’t know.” She raises her shoulders in a jerky shrug. Her words seem extra lame when Eloise tilts her head, confused. “I’m not a fan, I guess.”

“But it’s Halloween.” She whines.

“I know, bug. But you know who’d match really well with you? Your—”

“Want you to be Mother Gospel.” Eloise grumbles, interrupting before Emily can throw the role on you—like she did last year. Her eyes turn stormy dark as the disappointment settles, etching itself in delicate frown lines across her young face. The happiness of acquiring her costume dissolves into a cloud, one that starts growing gray above her head, gathering with rain that reflects in Eloise’s eyes.

Emily’s stomach turns with guilt.

“Ellie…” She chews on her lip, feeling herself crumble beneath her daughter’s gaze. But then her eyes flit to the costumes around them and her nose wrinkles, almost against her will. “We’ll talk about it at home, okay? Let’s just get your costume now, it’s almost lunch time.”

Eloise sulks. She thrusts her arms out, a frown digging between her brows. “Mommy up.” She demands, almost as if it’s punishment.

Emily finds herself smiling. “Yes, my liege.” She says playfully, lightening her tone and hoping to pull a similar smile from her daughter as she lifts her up into her arms. Emily stifles a grunt as she heaves Eloise up against her chest, a dull strain pulling the muscles of her arms taut as she secures her little girl to her body, where she always used to lay as an infant. Admittedly, Eloise is heavier than she used to be, her rapidly growing body settling more firmly against Emily’s side. But she knows these days are starting to slip from her fingers, the sand draining to the other end of the glass, so Emily grasps each opportunity she can get, regardless of the ache in her back and hip. 

Eloise still doesn’t smile back, so Emily kisses her cheek, hoping to find a dimple. “You know, you could do with being Mother Gothel yourself.” She murmurs as Eloise settles against her, the costume halfway squished between their bodies.

“She’s not a princess,” Eloise sighs heavily as she lays her head on her shoulder.

Which is definitely her only fault.

“How could I have forgotten,” Emily says, absently sweeping another kiss over Eloise’s forehead. “She’s not a princess. Does this come with a crown?” She tries to look down at the costume.

“Nu-uh.”

“Well, that won’t do. Our princess needs a crown, doesn’t she?”

“A purple crown.” Eloise agrees. 

“A purple crown,” Emily parrots. She hoists Eloise higher on her hip, forcing her eyes away from the sweet relief of the cashier and to the endless shelves of accessories. She swallows down a deep sigh and tries to think of her daughter’s happiness. “Let’s browse their selection, shall we?”

___

“It’s the best costume in the world!” Eloise gushes, her eyes bright with excitement. She trips over the word costume, switching the s and t, which strikes Emily as a little odd for a girl who can effortlessly pronounce Rapunzel. 

She laughs as she fixes the crown on Eloise’s head, silently hoping she never grows out of her endearing quirks. “It is pretty cool. Fine choice, m’lady.” She grabs Eloise’s hand and twirls her around in front of the mirror, smiling when the little girl giggles at the flare of her dress.

They spin until Eloise grows dizzy, tumbling into her mother, so Emily gently sits her down on the carpeted floor of her room. Her cheeks are flushed, the deep brown of her eyes glittering with glee. Once again her tiara tilts, slipping on her head.

“Your crown is lopsided, princess,” Emily murmurs, smiling as she fixes it. “Careful, it’s gotta be on straight.” 

Eloise giggles, the sound breathless and bright as she places her hands on Emily’s knees, scrunching the fabric of her sweatpants. “Can we put the flowers in my hair?” She asks, tilting her head up to meet Emily’s eyes. The crown jostles further.

Emily hums and leaves it, finding the task futile. “Yeah, that would be a nice touch,” she taps the tip of her finger on Eloise’s nose, “maybe we can have some daises and—”

“And your hair curly!”

“Mine?” Emily’s brows lift. “Why? I think it looks pretty like this, don’t you?” She shakes out her—admittedly flat—hair.

Eloise shakes her head no. Her eyes narrow critically; she suddenly looks so much like you that Emily’s heart warms, a more than familiar desire to take her daughter into her arms and pepper her face with kisses floating through her veins. 

“Y’cant be Mother Garthel without curly hair.” Eloise says.

The feeling dims. 

“Eloise,” Emily sighs. “Mon chou, Mommy doesn’t wanna dress up.” She shrugs meekly.

“Please? Please, please, please, Mommy. Henry’s Mommy is gonna wear a costume. And Jack’s Daddy.” Eloise’s eyes grow wider as she crawls into Emily’s lap. Emily’s arms automatically wrap around her, the walls of her resolve crumbling as Eloise burrows closer. She can feel her walls tumbling down, a weary reluctance surfacing from beneath the chipped pieces of her hatred for the holiday as Eloise’s small fingers twist into the fabric of her sweater.

Distantly, Emily thinks that she used to be stronger than this. Her will was iron clad, her mind—once made up—impossible to budge. She’s still like this, you’d argue, only she’s incapable of showing that front to her daughter. She’s putty in Eloise’s hands, bendable and soft and completely, embarrassingly pliant. Which is inconvenient. 

Still, Emily gently reminds her daughter of last year’s Halloween. The effort is half hearted at this point, the image of you and Eloise in your matching costumes fuzzy even in her own mind. When Eloise whines quietly, a sulk dragging her mouth down, it tips her over the edge.

“Want it to be you.” She says, her bottom lip starting to quiver.

Which is how Emily finds herself dressed in a red velvet dress on the 31st of October, her hair extravagantly curled and her hand held in Eloise’s. Her other arm is around your waist, her fingers absently rubbing the soft warmth of your costume.

“Thought you said you weren’t dressing up.” JJ’s brows lift, an amused glint shining in her eyes. You’re all standing on her porch, waiting for Henry to come out of the bathroom to take the kids trick or treating.

“The princess demanded it,” Emily says. Try as she might to sound annoyed, she can’t, because Eloise is beaming up at her, a wide grin on her face that displays all of her teeth. Emily smiles back, carving a dimple in her cheek that’s identical to the one in her daughter’s.

“Rapunzel can’t go as Rapunzel without Mother Gothel, right?” She winks. Eloise giggles delightedly, giving Emily a firm nod as she leans into her side.

Even with Jack next to her—dressed as Batman, with Hotch as Robin—she doesn’t let go of Emily’s hand. Her fingers are small and chilly, leeching warmth from the cocoon of her mother’s palm. The small gesture makes Emily’s heart squeeze, her body flood with warmth, and this miniscule pocket of mundanity makes Halloween well worth it.

“And what are you mean to be?” Hotch frowns, the edges of it soft and playful as he directs the question to you.

Emily turns, smothering a laugh at your defeated expression. The pale green of your onesie stands out against the setting sky, the fading rays of the sun illuminating the frog eyes on your fuzzy hood.

You sigh, low and resigned and somehow still overflowing with love.

“I’m the chameleon.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

[winterrain-11]

some more gravity falls hcs :3

(a lot of these are sad)

cw for drug use, mentions of abuse, major character death, and other such depressing things

- mabel starts swearing like a sailor after the summer (ik that stan made an effort not to swear around the kids, but i don’t think ford did, and it made stan’s filter slip more) and gets in trouble for it at home. when stan finds out he tries to hard to pretend to be mad but he’s lowkey proud

- the twins have to fight tooth and nail to teach their grunkles to use a cellphone, especially facetime. they eventually get the hang of it, but the first few months at sea were two hour facetimes of the grunkle’s chins just bickering at each other and assorted “how’s it hanging pumpkin? how’s school?”

- stan and ford watched westerns nonstop as kids (though ford was more into star trek and doctor who) and they played cowboys often. stan was OBSESSED with cowboys and briefly tried to work as a ranch hand while he was homeless in his 20s

- dipper and mabel have a love/hate relationship with cw’s supernatural. mabel thinks the boys are hot and is definitely a destiel shipper. dipper loves the genuine supernatural-ness of the early seasons and now still watches it kind of as a joke but also because mabel got him on the destiel train. the last two episodes ruined their lives.

- the twins have opposite reactions to weed. it makes ford’s paranoia really bad and makes him nauseous, but it makes stan’s adhd brain quiet for once and allows him to relax for once. when dipper and mabel get older, they have very similar reactions. when stan catches mabel smoking, he tries to be responsible about it and tell her that smoking is bad for her and to not end up like him, but eventually they just smoke together on occasion.

- mabel is significantly better at guessing plot twists than dipper (in books, movies etc) and dipper DESPISES this fact (i think it’s the same for the stan twins too tbh)

- stan dies first, ford dies almost exactly a year later.

- stan picks up guitar while he’s homeless, uses it to make a bit of money on street sides. he teaches mabel in her teen years when his hands get to old to play.

- when ford and fiddleford rekindle, stan and fiddleford bond over regaining memory. they both relearn their instruments together (guitar and banjo respectively) and enjoy singing along to old outlaw country and appalachian folk rock (stan picked it up in his travels).

- (cont.) ford suggests music because it’s known to help dementia and alzheimer’s patients with regaining memories, and while that’s true, he really more just enjoys seeing his two favorite people happy again.

- both ford and stan think the other voted for trump (2016), neither of them did. stan thought hilary was hot (and thought trump was a loser) and ford voted third party (sorry he gives me centrist vibes). i imagine they both vote dem in 2020 and 2024 because they see trump as a much worse conman/asshole and a narcissistic sociopath respectively.

- (cont.) the twins have heard the stan’s complain about the other’s political ideologies and know that they vote the same but refuse to tell the other. wendy is also in on this and they all have to tackle soos on several occasions to keep him quiet before election day.

- nate and lee definitely explored each other’s bodies and when they finally came out to the friend group everyone was super confused because they assumed that they had been dating for years

- ford has a very addictive personality. while stanley does too, he can restrain himself (doesn’t smoke or drink around the kids, doesn’t lose himself in gambling), ford picks up smoking on the stan-o-war II and doesn’t stop until he dies. Stan has refused to go to Vegas with him even though ford begs, but stan knows an addict when he sees one. ford never acknowledges his problem.

- stan doesn’t tell ford about his homelessness and abuse at the hands of his father/pimps/drug lords until they’re several months deep on the stan-o-war II and certain things start to trigger his PTSD. Ford listens and opens up about his abuse under Bill and his life of crime in the multiverse. they definitely cry together for a long time.

- (cont.) Stan only tells the kids when they’re in college. mabel self destructs a bit during this period trying desperately to find herself and stan is terrified that she’ll go down his path of dangerous desperation for self-worth and wants her to know that he knows how she feels, they grow even closer because of this.

- stan did drag for a short period of time around the southwest in his homelessness. at first he was forced to do it to be degraded, but once he got his autonomy back, he began to do it on his own accord and really enjoyed it/was really good at it. he tried to convince himself that ‘he wasn’t queer or anything’ and was just doing it for the money, but he never really fully believed that. (where he learned to wear a girdle)

- once again. stan wanted to be a cowboy so bad okay i know this in my heart of hearts. this man LOVES clint eastwood and johnny cash and RAHHHH i know it.

[mirohlayo]

F1 DRIVERS TAKING CARE OF YOU

WHEN YOU'RE SICK

including mclaren, ferrari, mercedes + verstappen, ricciardo & gasly

warning : mention of medicine, pure fluff

note : been sick for almost 2 weeks now so i thought about this idea lol

!! english is not my first language !!

ᦈ OSCAR PIASTRI 81

his poor heart cries in pain seeing you so weak. he hates when you're sick because sickness take off your positive energy which he adores much. so he makes sure you're warm enough under triple blankets, double pillows under your head for extra comfort and some movies playing on the tv. call him and he'll be standing right next to you a second later, ready to help you with anything. ask for cuddles and he won't think twice before joining you in the bed and pecking your face. he still want you to takes your medicine even though you're recovered, just in case, just to be sure you won't get sick again.

ᦈ LANDO NORRIS 4

his poor baby is pin down on the bed, coughing and sneezing every single minutes. he hates it, he wants to see you smile again, he wants you to feel better. he would stay with you until you feel good, arms around your body as he let lazy and soft kisses everywhere on your face. especially your lips. you'll probably scold him because he'll get sick too but he doesn't care, he wants to take care of his baby, it's just his job. he reminds you to take your drugs and also makes sure you have everything you need, and if not then he'll bring it to you as quickly as possible.

ᦈ CHARLES LECLERC 16

as soon as he knows you're not feeling well, he would run to you in a hurry. he would also panic because it's not in your habit to get sick. he'll call his mom to get advices, he wants to do his best to take care of you and your poor state. try to act confident in front of you but internally stress because he doesn't really know what to do. still he manages to keep you in a good mood, he makes you laugh but you just end up coughing so he stress even more. but don't worry he'll be the sweetest, showing you with loads of kisses and cuddles because either him can't get enough of them.

ᦈ CARLOS SAINZ 55

now this guy would 100% know how to manage with his loved one being sick. like he just used to it and he perfectly knows what to do and what can make you feel better. he'll put you on the bed, and wrap you in a huge blanket. he even writes a schedule for your drugs with precise times. he'll cook the warmest meals and makes you tons of tea. sit next to you to keep an eye on you, sometimes you ask for kisses and he can't refuse them, pressing his soft lips on your forehead. you say that he's doing too much for you, overreacting the whole thing. but he would shrug and reply that he just wants the best treatment for you.

ᦈ LEWIS HAMILTON 55

he doesn't really like when you're sick because he can't get along with the picture of you being stuck in the bed, a tired expression endlessly on your face. but on the other hand i feel like he'd love playing the doctor. like he'll be so much caring, asking you every little minutes if you're feeling better or not. he won't rest until you're completely recovered. also would be the type to play some music, because he knows how much it comforts you. he'll put your favorite tv show and slide under the blankets and cuddle you until your body is warm enough. and also constantly rubbing your back or arms, just full of love for his lover.

ᦈ GEORGE RUSSEL 63

he has to deal with you being pretty sick and he doesn't wait a second to take care of you. maybe first will scold you because you don't wear enough warm clothing or you just don't pay enough attention to yourself. he doesn't like that, so he reminds you to always cover yourself with extra gloves and scarf. and then he feels bad seeing you in that state. he always feels panicked whenever you're coughing a bit too hard or sneezing nonstop. like a worried expression is stuck on his face. he would lay down on the bed next to you, mumbling some "my poor baby" and things like that. you'll tease him later about how much worried he looked for you but he doesn't care because it's just his way to show you how much he cares about you.

ᦈ MAX VERSTAPPEN 33

he's extremely caring and sweet with you. he becomes softer, acting super gently because he doesn't want to hurt you. stuck on your side like the world will stop if he's not keeping an eye on you. he would bring you to the doctor even if you just have a little fever, he's just so worried about you he doesn't want you to get sick. but manage incredibly well with it. he's the best because he does whatever you ask him to do. make you laugh ? he transforms into a comedian. not warm enough ? he joins you and cuddle you so close to his body. need some rest ? he'll take a nap with you in his arms, pressing kisses here and there until you're fully recovered.

ᦈ DANIEL RICCIARDO 3

at first he thought you were joking about your state. but when he came home and saw your tired body and face on the couch, he knew it wasn't funny at all. he feels so bad and he knows he has one job : take care of you as best as possible. but he knows one remedy that always works. his humor. whenever you're feeling off or sick, his humor always lifts up your mood. so while giving you your drugs, he'll talk about funny histories, or anything that can makes you laugh. and it works so well because despite the pain you're able to laugh. and he loves it. also pecking your whole face is one of the best medicine. but you can be sure he takes good care of you.

ᦈ PIERRE GASLY 10

know how to handle the situation. like he would transform into a doctor as soon as his eyes saw something was off with you. forces you to stay in the bed, a crazy amount of blankets over your body. you tell him it's fine but he doesn't listen and keep adding more warm stuff. he would gives you princess treatment, ask for anything and you'll got it. also makes you different types of tea with all the different flavors, and it'll just ends up in a tasting session. he would also never shut up about his science, explaining you how people get sick. but over all, he's happy to stay on your side and feeding you with lots of kisses

[nickfowlerrr]

all i want

pairing: andy barber x curvy!reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only. cockwarming. little tiny bit of teasing. liiiittle bit of a daddy kink.

notes: shockingly enough, this was meant to be a drabble. it very much is not. enjoy!

inspired by this txt post, this is one of seven characters i’m writing this prompt of sorts for. thank you in advance for reading and as always, reblogs and comments and welcome and so appreciated.

It’s all perfectly innocent to start the night, really it is. Your yearly tradition of watching Miracle on 34th Street after trimming the tree is one that neither of you would want to skip out on. And so far this season, between the trial that has had Andy so stressed and your long shifts at the hospital, there has been quite a bit you’ve ended up skipping.

You paid to have the Christmas lights strung up instead of decorating yourselves, the Christmas tree this year came from the grocery store parking lot Andy passed on his way home yesterday instead of the tree farm you always went to to chop down your own, and your annual Christmas Eve party is a no go this year, too. You’re both too busy, too stressed, too tired.

Andy sits on the couch, getting the movie ready to play, while you’re in the kitchen. You slide the bowl of cookie dough you whipped up into the fridge to chill for an hour or two before baking right as the kettle begins to whistle.

You walk back over to the stove, moving it off the burner before carefully pouring the boiling water into the waiting mugs of coco powder.

“Andy, do you want marshmallows?” you call, knowing your voice will carry into the next room. You stir the powder as you wait for his response, plopping a few mini marshmallows into your mug before your face scrunches up a bit. You turn, ready to peek into the living room to repeat yourself, and jump a bit as you’re met with Andy leaning in the doorway.

His arms are crossed over his chest and you are momentarily distracted by how big his arms look in his sweater. You know it’s soft and you can’t wait to cuddle into him and finally have a chance to relax while you watch the movie.

Your eyes flit to his and then you finally see the look of incredulity on his handsome, bearded face. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he speaks before you can.

“Did you just call me Andy?” he asked, sounding disgusted and a little distraught.

You gape a moment, thinking back to what it was you said, and almost immediately realize that you indeed did. You flounder for only a second before shaking your head, “No,” you lie, “I dont think so.”

“Yes,” he states, pushing off the doorframe and starting toward you, “you did.”

You back up, bumping into the counter behind you as he stalks closer. You fight your smile as a thrill runs through you when he cages you in, his arms either side of you as he stands right before you. He leaves almost no space between you and you can see in his eyes what you’re sure he can see in yours.

Longing, desire, and maybe just a hint of desperation…

It’s been two weeks since you have had anything close to alone time together. Your shifts have been all over the place and you’re either heading to work as Andy is coming home, or leaving just as he gets up to start getting ready for his day. Even your weekends have been taken over. Andy has been working nonstop, but you both promised each other that this weekend would be just for you two. No work, no parties, no distractions. The closest thing to intimate you’ve gotten in two weeks has been your parting kisses. You’ve only shared the bed a few days this past week and you’ve both been so exhausted that the furthest you’ve gotten has been cuddling.

So right here and now, that look in his eyes, you know you’re both thinking about the same thing.

“I’m sorry,” you offer in your attempt to appease him.

“You’re sorry …,” he prompts, waiting for you to address him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you press against him, a smile playing on your lips. “Babe…honey…love,” you continue with the pet names, your fingers dancing across his sweater clad chest before you lean in real close, your lips against his ear before you whisper breathily, “Daddy.”

The sharp breath he takes at the title has you biting your lip to stop the smirk threatening to break out.

You let a hand come up, squeezing the back of his neck gently before your fingers find his hair, almost playing with it as you massage his neck a bit. Andy drops his head as his eyes close under your touch, pressing you back against the counter as he leans into you. He lets out a heavy sigh as your other hand comes up to cup his cheek.

“You’re so tense,” you say, leaning in to kiss him softly. He returns the kiss, his arms coming closer and wrapping around you, pulling you flush to him.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, your noses brushing.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you kiss him gently once more before letting him go, turning back around to the mugs of coco waiting for you.

Andy doesn’t let you go, just watches as you finish making the cups.

You lean your head back, “marshmallows?” you ask again, earning a smile and a nod from him.

-

The still warm mugs of hot chocolate are on the coffee table before you as you snuggle into Andy.

That tingle you got earlier in the kitchen still hasn’t gone away as you hug Andy, his arm holding you to him in turn.

You don’t want to force anything. You’re both tired, that’s obvious, but god, you miss him. All of him.

You don’t even really want to have sex right now, you just want to be closer. You need him closer.

His eyes are open but you can see the exhaustion in the slightest squint of his eyes as he watches the screen. You lean up, pressing your lips delicately against his exposed throat, once, twice, three times as you work your way up.

“Mmm,” he breathes deeply, holding back a moan under your attention. “Baby,” he warns.

“I know,” you say, a hand rising to stroke his hair as you sit up and move into his lap. “I know, I’m tired, too. We don’t have to do anything,” you let your head rest against his, your noses brushing once more, “I just… I just want to feel you,” you speak so quietly but he can hear the plea in your voice and it squeezes his chest. And he can’t lie and say that the desperation he hears isn’t turning him on a bit, either.

If you want to feel him, he’ll make sure you feel him.

Your hands are lightly in his hair, holding his head as you lean in to kiss him. One kiss, you breathe into him as you pause against each others lips, then another, and another, before your tongue licks into his mouth. He sucks on you lightly before his tongue takes over, his effortless dominance always winning out.

You can feel him growing beneath you and you feel yourself growing slicker in turn.

You pull away from his kiss reluctantly to stand and rid yourself of your pajama pants, while he drags his sweats down. His cock is hard and you inhale sharply at the sight. It’s only been two weeks but you’d almost forgotten just how big he really is.

You hold his shoulder, his hands coming to your chubby waist as you come back to your spot on his lap. You’re on your knees, straddling him as you position yourself above him. One of his hands comes to his cock, the other sliding down your curves as he grips your hip.

He moves his dick up and down your pussy, playing with your wetness as your eyes shut in delight at the feeling, your hands squeezing his shoulders.

He gets himself wet with your slick before he lines the head of his cock up to your entrance. His hand on your hip urges you down, and you slowly sink onto his thick length. You moan in unison as you take him in, a “fuck” leaving Andy’s lips when the first inch of him was finally inside of you.

His hand is holding you, his thumb rubbing the soft, blemished skin of your hip as he urges you to take more of him with his sweet praises.

“You take me so well, baby. Just a little bit more, I know you can do it. Doing so good, sweetheart. Always so fucking good,” he full on moans the last few words as you sit fully on his strong lap with a whimper. He’s seated completely inside of you as you bury your head in his neck.

You feel his lips as he kisses your head, his hand rubbing your back soothingly while the other lightly kneads your thick thigh.

You sigh heavily, relaxing into him as you rest your head against his chest, your velvety walls squeezing his cock of their own volition every so often, earning moans from both of you as he keeps you full of him, the movie still playing as you try to focus on that instead.

But you’re so tired, and so content in Andy’s hold, the pleasure and closeness enough to lull you asleep, you do just that. The cookies can wait until tomorrow.

Andy is smiling to himself as he holds you, he hasn’t been this relaxed since before the start of his current trial. Because with you this close, he’s calm and more than content. This is what he’s been needing. You.

He tenses just a little when your walls squeeze him again, a soft moan slipping past your lips. He moans quietly in turn, still holding you tight.

A moment passes and he has to laugh at the soft snore that leaves you next. He doesn’t want to leave your warmth just yet, he wants to feel you - it’s been too long. So he’ll finish the movie and then he’ll bring you to bed. You’ll cuddle and sleep in each other’s embrace, and all the while he’ll be sure to keep you full of him.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with his cock still inside of you, your wetness leaking out from around his thick length, he won’t mind one bit about getting woken up by you fucking yourself stupid on his cock. He’s all yours, whenever you want him. And he still owes you for your teasing in the kitchen. He’ll make sure to show you exactly just how much Daddy has missed you.

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together (pt 2)

afab!reader x Mike Schmidt

pt 1

WC: 3k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of intoxication, slow burn, mentions of child abuse, no use of y/n, aged up character

A/N: I want to apologize for any confusion the first chapter might have caused! This fic is a Mike Schmidt fic. It's just a slow burn/somewhat(?) of a love triangle and I thought adding Clapton would be funny. (plus I’m in love with him…) Before you read, just as a warning, this chapter gets pretty deep. 

Enjoy!

tags: @h3llo-k1tt @caminterrupted @jhutchismyl0verb0y

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It's been almost a month since you and Clapton's hookup. He's been texting you nonstop. Text after text floods in, and you ignore them all. You feel bad, but you’re too embarrassed to even face him. You sigh, flipping open to Clapton’s contact to read the new heap of texts.

U good?

Miss you. Hope that ur ok.

Wanna hang?

Helloooo?

Okay. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of u.

You groan, slamming your phone back down on the bedside table. You enjoyed the night you two had, and it felt great at the time. But now you just feel like shit. Now all you think about is Mike, and how disgusted he was with you. While you’re thinking about Mike, you realize you haven’t seen or heard him in weeks. He’s been out of his apartment way more than usual, and you’re sure he's avoiding you. To be honest, you don’t blame him. If he pulled that on you, you’d up and leave.

You lay back down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on a movie, desperate to think of anything else but Mike or Clapton. Suddenly, you hear frantic knocking on your door. You reach for the remote and pause the TV. You sit silently for a minute, wondering if you were hearing things. Not only is it 8 pm on a Saturday, but you also aren’t expecting any guests. Who could possibly be knocking on your door? As you're about to un-pause the TV, more knocks echo and bounce off the walls.

You slowly get up from the couch, and wearily walk over to the door. You shift to the balls of your feet, trying to peer through the peephole. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as all you see is the top of someone's head. You slowly wrap your hand along the cold metal of the knob, slowly turning it open. Your eyes widen as you see Abby on the other side.

Her face lights up, her eyes practically glowing. She squeals, bolting over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist.  “Abby!” You scream, pulling her into you.

“I missed you so much! Mike said you moved away to your castle to be a princess!” You scoff inwardly, Mike’s lie making you despise him even more. "Where is your castle, by the way?" You glance down at her, ready to make up some insane lie. Before you get the chance, you look to your left, seeing Mike skirt around the corner, bee-lining towards you. He’s panting, his face red. “Shit- I’m... Sorry. She’s so fast.” You plaster a sickly sweet smile on your face, ensuring Abby doesn’t notice the hostility between you.

Mike takes Abby’s hands, prying her off you. “Heyy! I want to play with her! Please! Please, Mike!” She whines, giving Mike her best puppy eyes. He looks up at you, a guilty look falling over his features. He shrugs at you, waiting for your response. “Okay, come in!” You say, focusing on the little girl in front of you instead of Mike. The two of them walk into your apartment, Mike clearly not wanting her to be alone with you. You give him a dirty look and he rolls his eyes. Luckily, Abby’s too focused on your decor to notice or even care.

She runs around your apartment, oohing and ahhing at every fuzzy pillow and every cute decoration lining your shelves. She opens your bedroom door, and you think she’s about to explode. She looks back at you, her eyes wide. “You can go in.” You say, giggling as she wastes no time to roll around in all the stuffed animals you still keep on your bed. You quickly follow behind her, flinging yourself in the pile. Mike leans against the door frame, smiling as he watches you both stand up and jump up and down the bed. Abby stops, her eyes catching on something on your bedside table. She jumps down, her feet landing on the plush carpet. She grabs a heart locket off your bedside table, holding it up to the light. “Woah! This is so pretty!”

You immediately freeze, your face almost lighting on fire. You quickly grab it out of her hands, stuffing it in a drawer. “Mhm, so pretty! Why don’t we get out of the bedroom?” You steer her out of the room, sliding around Mike. You loved her with all your being, but her lack of an attention span seemed like it was out to get you.

As Abby sits down on the couch, you look over at Mike. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed. He glances back into your room, the locket he got you for your 3rd anniversary haphazardly hanging out of the drawer. You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. 

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Mike opens your front door, not even bothering to announce his arrival. He sits down next to you, a huge smile on his face. “What?” You mirror his smile, confused as to what he might be so excited about. “Okay, I know our anniversary isn't for a few days but I- I just couldn’t wait. I'm sorry it's cheap, I couldn’t afford much.” He says, awkwardly. 

He reaches into his hoodie pocket, taking out a velvet box. You look up at him sweetly, gasping as you open it. You pull out a heart-shaped locket. You feel your eyes well up as you open it, reading the words engraved inside.

“I’ll love you forever and Always, Mike.” 

You fling yourself onto him and you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls you into him kissing you sweetly. In between kisses you mumble out, “I love you so much.” You feel so loved and so grateful that you met someone like him. You didn’t care about the money, he was worth so much more than gold or diamonds to you. 

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You shake your head, pushing the memories out of your mind. Mike looks away from you, his cheeks growing rosey. You sigh loudly, sitting down next to Abby. Over the next few hours, you and Abby color what feels like a thousand different sheets of paper. 

By 11 pm, you’re both lying down on the floor, markers and papers scattered all across your living room. Mike watches from the couch, telling Abby a story as she draws him. A few times, you both glance at each other, but you both quickly turn your gaze to Abby instead. After Abby finishes her drawing, she holds it up to you and him. “It's so good!” Mike says, taking the paper out of her hand. He starts pointing out small little details Abby included, gushing over each and every one. You’re utterly entranced as you watch him. 

You miss him so much.

Your eyes widen and bite your cheek, wanting to slap yourself across the face for even thinking that. He abandoned you. That’s it. 

But.. He loved you so much. Or at least you thought so. How could he just up and leave without a word? You wanted desperately for there to be any other reason. A part of you was convinced there actually was. You bite down harder, a salty metal taste erupting across your tongue.

Whatever happened, he left. That’s it. There’s no excuse. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the roller coaster that’s running through your mind. Maybe… Maybe for now you can forget your distaste for him. Just for a few minutes.

You smile softly as he and Abby burst out laughing. 

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

They leave. Too soon. As soon as the door shuts behind the both of them, the apartment is filled with deafening silence. You lay down on the hardware floor, the cold wood seeping through your shirt and biting into your back.

You never realized how much you truly missed Mike and Abby until you saw them tonight. Or… Maybe you just missed having someone to wake up to every day. Whatever it is, you shake it off and crawl onto the couch, too sad to walk a few feet to your bed. You pull a soft blanket over you, the edge of it just barely covering your feet.

You slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of a time when you and Mike weren’t basically sending bombs to each other's front doors.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You bolt awake, sweaty and shaky. You look around, your heart beating out of your chest. You’re unsure of what woke you up, but it scared the shit out of you. Listening closer, you hear crying, no, wailing. And it’s coming from next door. You quickly bolt up, running to your door. But, you pause as soon as you reach it. You don't want to get involved with Mike and Abby's life more than you have to. Plus, it could just be one of her usual tantrums. It could even just be something as trivial as a burnt breakfast. You pivot, turning back towards the couch. As soon as you hear screaming, you tear up all of your inhibitions and run into the hall. When you reach Mike’s door, it flies open and a woman storms out, dragging an inconsolable Abby out.

The woman, who you recognize as Mike’s aunt, is gripping Abby’s arm so hard that the skin around her fingers turns white. Mike runs out of his apartment pleading with her, “You can see she doesn’t want to go! Please, just-” Abby digs her heels into the ground grabbing Mike's shirt with her free hand. Jane yanks Abby to her side, pulling her away from her brother. “I guess I’ll have to go to the police and tell them you kidnapped my niece! I have sole custody, not you, Michael!” Mike’s eyes go wide, the color draining from his face. He takes a step back, putting as much distance between him and Jane as possible.

You watch in shock, beyond confused about what had gone down during the two years you were broken up. “You truly are a despicable woman.” He says, disgust dripping from his voice. Mike crouches down, getting eye level with Abby. “Abby, I’ll see you soon. I promise, okay?.” His voice cracks as he reaches out, wiping her tears with his thumb. Abby wiggles out of her Aunt’s grip, running forward to wrap her arms around him. He pulls her closer as she sobs into his sweater. Aunt Jane rolls her eyes and then rips Abby away with absolutely no remorse. She drags her down the hall, turning the corner, and disappearing completely.

He sits down, pressing his back against the wall. He exhales, tilting his head back and staring into the fluorescent lights. You cautiously take a step towards him, “Mike…?” He looks over at you, his jaw clenching as he sees you. “Still can’t seem to mind your own business, huh?” He scoffs, his eyes turning away from you. You pause, crouching next to him. You desperately want to comfort him, but you just don't know how. “Can.. Can I do anything?” He looks over at you, his face twisting into a death stare. “For starters, you can leave me alone.” You flinch, feeling a wave of sadness rush over you. You can’t even imagine how he feels. “Mike, please..” You reach out, your hand brushing his.

He slaps your hand away, and screams, “I said leave me the fuck alone!” You stand up, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry for having a fucking heart, Mike!” He laughs, standing up. “Oh, you have a heart? Did you ever tell Clapton why you called him at 2 in the fucking morning?” You look away from him, swallowing. “That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone, and stay out of my life!” You feel tears burning your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your lip quivers as you speak, “All... All I wanted to do was help.”

“This is exactly why I left you.” He turns away, storming into his apartment. As soon as the door hits the frame you break down, falling to your knees in the middle of the hall.

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You’ve been crying for hours straight, the tears seemingly having no end. Your pillow is drenched and tissues are splayed out all over your comforter. As you wallow in despair, the sun slowly sinks further across the sky, the only light illuminating your room being the white glow of the moon.  It’s crazy to you how two entire years after your separation, Mike is still making you feel so extremely worthless. You could never be enough for him, no matter how hard you tried. What you hated most though, is that he had a point. You used Clapton. For your own sick and twisted reasons, you used him. And you hated yourself for it. 

Just as you begin to sob harder, you hear a thud against the wall, coming from the hallway. The sound echoes through the walls again, and it sounds almost like someone ran into it. You hear someone grunt and struggle, cursing. You recognize the voice and you groan, taking everything in you not to get up and check on him.

Suddenly, it feels like someone takes control of your body as you walk to your door, stepping into the hallway. You see Mike fumbling with his keys, missing the keyhole every time. He’s clearly very intoxicated. It’s surreal seeing him in such a way. He never drank when you were with him, he always told you he had to make sure Abby was always looked after and always had someone to turn to. Now that she’s not here, you guess he decided nothing is stopping him from getting shitfaced.

You walk over to him, grabbing the keys out of his hands, and unlocking the door yourself. He looks over at you, and any ounce of disdain he held for you from earlier disappeared. “Thanks..” He says quietly. You invite yourself in, making sure he gets to the couch without hurting himself. You avoid eye contact the whole time, knowing if you glance at him for even a second you’d burst out into tears.

Once he’s settled, you turn to walk away, but you feel his hand grasp your wrist, stopping you. “Please... Please stay.” He pleads. You sigh, removing his hand from you. “I can’t keep doing this Mike…” You say, finally turning towards him. He has a guilty look on his face, and he suddenly can’t seem to look at you. “I... I didn’t mean it..” He slurs, his face tipped towards the ground. 

You sit down next to him, your eyebrows raised. “You didn’t mean what..?” You question. “You know. What I said earlier. I do want you in my life…” He says, his eyes tracing the floorboards. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Mike, you’re drunk.” He shakes his head, finally making eye contact. “I swear. I do. I mean.. just look at you. I treated you like dirt and you’re still helping me? You’re just.. so.. so nice.” You frown, wishing so badly he was sober. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reaches out, his warm hand cupping your face. His eyes bore into yours as he speaks. “I’m not ever going to lie to you again. I promise.” You’re not sure exactly what he means by “again” but you brush it off, chalking it up to more alcohol-induced rambles. 

You stand up, Mike’s hand leaving your face and falling back to his lap. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, okay?” He nods, following your every move and watching you as you walk around his kitchen. 

Your eyes begin dancing around every framed picture he has and every drawing Abby made he has clipped to the fridge. Your eyes settle on a picture of you, him, and Abby at an amusement park, almost exactly a month before he left you. You pick it up, your thumb rubbing over the scratches in the frame. That trip was unforgettable. That was the day you knew he’d be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. You couldn’t imagine a world without him or Abby. You put it back, wondering why he still has it. 

You fill up a glass, taking it back over to him. He drinks it in one gulp and he hiccups once it’s all gone. You place your hand on his chest, slowly pushing him back to get him to lie down. He takes the hint, lying back down on the couch. Your hand lingers there for a moment too long, but you quickly tear it away when he smiles up at you. The smile is still plastered on his face as he watches you drape a blanket over him. His eyes slip shut as he turns on his side, pulling the blanket to his chin.

You look down at him for a few moments. You just don’t understand how one moment you could hate him more than anything, and the next wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. You were half of yourself without him, and just as you started to feel complete he just had to infiltrate his way back into your life. As you watch his chest rise and fall, you just can’t help but still love him. Sadly, nothing was ever going to change that. 

You slowly creep towards the door, the floorboards creaking under you. He speaks so quietly you almost don’t hear him, “There was never another girl..” You freeze and turn back to look at him. “What?” Is all you can say. He doesn’t give you any explanation for what he just grumbled. You convince yourself you’re crazy and you’re just hearing things.

That night, you don’t sleep at all. You keep replaying that moment in your head, over and over. 

“There was never another girl.”

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

rizzless sukuna pt 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

at long last!!! it's here, im back!

---

It’s been about two weeks since Sukuna had his date with Megumi. His mood is the best it’s been in awhile; the change is enough for his parents to notice. When they try questioning him about it, he brushes them off with an easily crafted lie. He’s not quite ready to tell them that he’s possibly dating his younger brother’s best friend (who they almost consider their own son at this point).

Sukuna isn’t ashamed or anything. He knows that his parents wouldn’t give a flying fuck if he told them he isn't straight, but he also didn't think it necessary to tell them anything. Who cares? It isn’t anyone’s business but his own. They’ll figure it out when Sukuna brings Megumi as his date to dinner or something. The idea alone gives him butterflies and he scowls at himself. 

He and Megumi have been texting back and forth nearly nonstop since their date. Well, nonstop in the sense that he talks to Megumi more than anyone else, which only happens to be his brother and Maki. Sukuna has never been one to hold a conversation (which was obvious during their date), but there’s something about Megumi that makes Sukuna want to talk. He wants the conversation to keep going. Every time it drops, he finds himself picking it back up again, usually with a movie related question.

Megumi still questions the fact that Sukuna says that he is not a movie buff simply due to the amount of movies that the older boy has seen. The more Megumi mentions it, the more Sukuna starts to believe it himself and he curses his younger brother’s effect on him, not that he’d ever admit it to Megumi or Yuuji. 

At the moment, the two of them are arguing over who is better: The Joker or Loki. 

Raisin Boy: Idk I think that Joker could outmatch Loki

Sukuna's jaw drops and his thumbs furiously tap away at the screen, not listening to whatever Yuuji is saying to him. He's in the middle of an important argument!

’There's no way. Loki has Joker beat 100 times over! He’s taken punches from Thor and The Hulk,  and he has magic. There's nothing the Joker could do to Loki!’

He huffs and drops his phone onto his leg, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for Megumi's reply. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Yuuji asks, briefly glancing at his brother before looking back to the screen so that he can dodge an attack. 

Sukuna shakes his head and scoffs, “Your shitty gaming skills. You still haven't beaten this boss?” 

The younger boy grunts. He stays quiet for a moment as he concentrates before he replies, “His spinning maneuver that he does always catches me off guard.”

Another beat of silence stretches between them and Sukuna momentarily forgets about his little argument with Megumi as he watches Yuuji rolling around on the screen. He manages a few hits on the boss character before ultimately meeting his doom when he goes into his spin attack and kills Yuuji’s character immediately.

Yuuji huffs and slumps back against the couch in defeat. “See what I mean?”

“Gimme that,” Sukuna grumbles. Reaching over, he snatches the controller out of his brother’s hands. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees (his ‘boss fighting position’ as Yuuji has appropriately named it). 

The only sounds in the living room are the sound of Sukuna’s fingers rapidly hitting buttons on the controller and Yuuji’s gasps in surprise. He sits up with wide eyes as he watches Sukuna effortlessly fight this boss character that Yuuji has been struggling with for about a week now. Of course, leave it to Sukuna to pick up on Yuuji’s slack. 

When Sukuna’s phone dings, his concentration goes out the window and he glances down at his phone to see who the message is from. A bad decision on Sukuna’s part because within that same second, his character dies from a large attach from the boss, leaving Yuuji’s character defeated once again. 

“Wh—Sukuna!” Yuuji groans. “You almost had it!”

Sukuna shrugs and tosses the controller back to his brother. He picks up his phone with a shrug, unlocking it to read Megumi’s message. “Sucks.”

Yuuji stares at his older brother for a long moment, taking in the expression on his face. There isn’t a smile per se, but he notices the way Sukuna’s features seem to relax when he reads the message he just got. It makes Yuuji raise an eyebrow in intrigue. Who could he be talking to that would earn just barely a hint of a smile from Sukuna?

He leans over, trying to peer at Sukuna’s screen, curiosity getting the better of him. “Who are you talking to?” Yuuji asks. 

The older boy’s trance is broken at the sound of Yuuji’s voice and whatever “smile” was on his face falls immediately and he narrows his eyebrows at his brother. “What?” he asks, instinctively leaning away from Yuuji. 

“You never just lose a boss battle because someone texted you. Who is it?” Yuuji asks again, a shit-eating grin on his face and he leans even closer to try and get another look at Sukuna’s phone. 

Sukuna scoffs and shoves Yuuji away roughly. “None of your damn business.”

“Well it has to be someone!”

“Yeah, I’m asking the adoption agency if they’ll take you back if we still have the receipt.”

“I wasn’t even adopted!”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? I’m hot and you’re…” He pauses, his eyes quickly glancing over his brother and grimaces, “eugh.”

Yuuji’s jaw drops. “What do you mean eugh? We look the same! We have the same face!” 

Sukuna slowly turns his attention back to his phone, turning his body so that Yuuji can’t peek at his screen. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

With a shake of his head, Yuuji kicks his brother in the leg and goes back to playing his game, grumbling under his breath. 

Focusing back to his phone, the older boy goes back to replying to Megumi. He types out a message only to backspace and try again. This happens 3 or 4 times which seems to be enough to concern Megumi because another message pops up.

Raisin boy: I'm just pulling your leg 😂 I agree that Loki is far better than Joker

Sukuna’s jaw drops as he stares at the message. Another one pops in.

Raisin boy: As your brother likes to say… Got em

Unable to keep himself from chuckling, Sukuna shakes his head and his mouth cracks a smile. “Oh my God.”

Yuuji glances over, his attention caught by the sound of his brother laughing. “Okay, seriously, who are you messaging?”

“Shut up,” is Sukuna’s reply.

Raisin boy: And you say that you’re not a movie buff

Biting his lip, Sukuna mulls over what he wants to say next. Since they’re on the topic of movies, he wants to ask Megumi to come over when his family isn’t home so they can actually watch The Exorcist and The Conjuring together as they’ve had planned.

He kicks Yuuji in the leg. “Do you still have plans with your friend Johnny or whatever on Thursday?”

Yuuji makes a face. “... you mean Junpei?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

The younger boy slowly nods his head. “Uh yeah, why—”

“'K, thanks.” 

Sukuna begins typing out his message, asking Megumi if he’s busy on Thursday afternoon. He hopes whatever higher being is out there watching that the other boy isn’t busy. It’s almost disgusting to Sukuna how much he wants to spend time with Megumi. Sukuna doesn’t even want to spend this much time with his own friends. Or friend, in this case. Maki doesn’t mind, of course. She has her own life and isn’t reliant on Sukuna for socialization. 

“Who are you bringing over?!” Yuuji exclaims, dropping the controller to turn his full body in Sukuna’s direction. “That’s the only explanation!”

Sukuna scoffs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would!” 

The next thing Sukuna knows, Yuuji lunges at him. He tries to grab the phone out of Sukuna’s hands but his grip is strong, the two of them playing tug-of-war with it. Yuuji tries twisting his body so that his back is facing Sukuna, pinning the older boy’s arms under his armpit to give him better leverage when attempting to pry the device out of Sukuna’s fingers. 

“Yuuji, you brat! Let go!” Sukuna grunts.

“You first!” 

Sukuna makes the decision to let go with one hand so that he can tickle Yuuji’s side, in hopes of making his brother lose his grip. It works, but not in the way that he had hoped. The phone slips free of Sukuna’s fingers and Yuuji’s jerky movements are enough to send it falling and sliding acros the hardwood floor. 

Naturally, Yuuji dives for it first, scrambling along the ground to grab it. He cheers in victory and flops down on his back, holding the phone above his face as he reads the name on the screen. Sukuna is quick to jump to his feet as he snatches the phone out of his brother’s hands. However, the damage is already done, judging by the confused look on his face.

Yuuji sits up, yelling after his brother's retreating figure. “Who the hell is Raisin boy?!"

[cuubism]

Happenstance [5x Hob and Dream met between their regular meetings] - bonus epilogue

--

Hob’s not the smartest man, but usually he’s got his wits about him. When you spend a chunk of your life accosting people on the road, you learn to keep an eye out for other people trying to accost you on the road. Not this time, apparently. This time, Hob’s walking about with his head in the clouds like a loon, paying fuck all attention to his surroundings, because he’s thinking about Dream.

He’s been doing that for a while. It’s not been long since Dream returned to him, since Hob kissed him, since his lovely old stranger seemingly accepted his courtship, and left him with a promise to come back. Hob’s been thinking about it nonstop since. It’s better than drugs, and Hob’s tried a lot of drugs.

Hob has unlimited time. If he wants to spend several months of it just thinking about the way Dream felt in his lap, and against his lips, and fantasizing about more, that’s what he’s going to do. Who’s going to stop him?

Apparently, the answer to that is, some guy with a crowbar. Really, Hob has been so spacey he’s lucky he only got knocked out and kidnapped, and not fully run over by a bus.

It’s all Dream’s fucking fault, anyway. Hob will tell him that when he sees him. Whenever that is.

As things stand now, he’s chained to a wall in some guy’s basement, which doesn’t bode well for seeing Dream some time soon. No one’s really talked to him since he woke up, and he’s not certain if this is because he’s done a poor job of obscuring his immortality, or if it’s something to do with his association with Dream. He wouldn’t have thought anyone knew about that, but then, he hadn’t thought so in 1789, either, and then that Constantine woman had come after them.

Too many damn cameras around nowadays, he thinks. It’s only getting harder to stay under the radar.

He’s just glad it wasn’t Dream that they captured. Granted, Dream probably could have freed himself instantly from this. Hob’s almost gotten one of his hands out of the chains, no magic required for that, just a few centuries’ worth of experience getting into trouble. Still, he’s glad that it wasn’t Dream.

He keeps working on twisting one of his hands out of the bindings. It’s actually easier with his hands above his head as they are, he can leverage gravity that way, but he still can’t quite get it.

His adrenaline is running high, with no real outlet, and that’s not helping matters. He can’t die, but the situation is still making him nervous. They don’t usually try to drown witches these days. They don’t usually believe in witches these days. Usually. Somehow Hob thinks this lot might be of a different mindset.

He’s still working on wiggling his arm free when the room plunges into darkness.

Wind swirls around him. His cuffs make a shrieking sound and then snap, releasing his wrists and dropping him to the ground. Somewhere upstairs, he hears someone scream.

The lights flash, and then Dream is standing in front of him. He’s a void of darkness cut out of the fluorescents, his expression as dark as the knocked-out lights. Hob wonders if he’s been catching up on missed films. Very horror movie, that entrance.

“You were serious about that!” Hob exclaims, delighted. “About not leaving me there!” He’s practically forgotten about getting kidnapped and chained up already, he’s far too thrilled about Dream coming to rescue him.

Dream scowls. “I do not speak falsehoods,” he says. “These arrogant ‘magicians’ dare to act against us. I have made them see the error of their ways.”

Us. Hob could start singing.

Dream finally walks over to him and crouches in front of him. He studies Hob, head tilted. “Your concern about this matter, or rather lack thereof, is disturbing to me.”

“I was concerned until you showed up, love,” Hob tells him. “Very dramatic entrance, by the way.”

“I see that being unable to die has had a detrimental effect on your sense of self-preservation,” Dream says, but there’s a smile in his voice now.

“I’m great at self-preservation,” Hob protests. “You’ve no idea how many situations I’ve not gotten involved in. Don’t judge me on one—”

He breaks off as Dream cups his face in one hand, strokes his thumb over Hob’s cheek. His gentle, sure touch makes Hob go still.

“I am glad to find you unharmed,” Dream says. Will Hob ever get used to Dream looking at him like that, with that care? No. He doesn’t want to.

“I suspect those guys upstairs are feeling glad about it, too, right about now,” Hob says, but his voice is tight, too affected by Dream’s touch for real humor.

“Mmm. I may consider showing mercy,” Dream agrees. “Eventually.”

“It’s hot when you’re scary like that,” Hob tells him. He may still be a little loopy from getting whacked upside the head. That, or it’s just the high of Dream’s melodramatic rescue. “Help me up?”

Dream stands, taking Hob by the arm and pulling him smoothly to his feet. Hob sways, and braces himself on Dream’s arms. It’s far from the first time in his life he’s been hit in the head with a blunt object, but it never gets less shitty to deal with.

“Now you get to be the gallant rescuer,” he says. “What was this about, anyway? None of them even told me.”

Dream touches the back of his head, where there’s blood clotted in his hair, the gash just barely scabbed over. “You drew some attention to yourself in searching for me,” he says. “That is what I have gathered from their dreams. I suspect they wanted to question you about it.”

Hob gets a chill, but not because of his own endangerment. “Does that mean there were people out there who knew you were trapped the whole time? And didn’t do anything?”

Dream inclines his head. “Not many. But yes, there were a few who had encountered Roderick Burgess over the years, or who considered themselves a part of the deep occult underground.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hob’s perpetual tendency towards violence rears its head as he contemplates tracking those people down and letting them know what he thinks about it. He reminds himself that he’s going to have to fake his death after this already, and there’s no need to create more problems for himself.

He supposes he shouldn’t be offended at other people’s passivity, he himself has stayed out of things plenty of times when he could reasonably have taken action. But it’s easy to take offense, to take it personally, when it involves Dream.

“I would recommend against taking action on that,” says Dream, with a tiny smile as if he knows exactly what Hob is thinking about. “Though disappearing for a while may be advisable.”

“Might be time to explore a different country,” Hob agrees.

Dream holds out a hand. “Come. I will return you home.”

“This really is a gallant rescue,” Hob says. He’s still delighted about it. “One more thing, though.”

He takes Dream’s hand, then leans in to kiss him.

He thinks Dream might have made himself just a bit taller for the sake of this dramatic endeavor, because Hob has to lean up just slightly to kiss him. Dream’s lips are ever so slightly chilled, and he tastes charred, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It’s addicting. The power of him.

Experiencing it makes him even more grateful that Dream let him see him in a more vulnerable state, too, when he came back to him after his imprisonment. He’s clearly more than capable of keeping up that all-powerful aspect, he didn’t need to show Hob anything. He did anyway.

“A kiss of thanks?” murmurs Dream, as they pull apart.

“A kiss of ‘I wanted to,’” Hob says, which draws a chuckle from him.

“Let us return, then, and perhaps we can do more of what you have wanted to.”

“You do know how to tempt a man,” Hob says. “Alright, darling.” He squeezes Dream’s hand. “Take me home.”

--

Traveling via Dream’s sand is extremely disconcerting, and Hob’s pretty sure that no human was ever meant to experience it. It’s rather like stepping into a tornado, but one whose winds manage to get inside his head instead of just buffeting him from without. He thinks they might travel through a couple different planes of existence, and a few of nonexistence to boot. He tries not to think about it too hard, he’s too concussed to deal with it.

Regardless, it does get them back to his flat, which is a relief. He half-wonders if Dream will leave, then, having seen him safely home, but he stays. Lingering just a bit awkwardly in the living room as Hob quickly showers and changes into clothes that aren’t covered in blood and grime.

It makes Hob smile to reemerge and find him perched on the edge of the couch, reading a book with an air of affected disinterest. But he looks up when Hob comes out.

“Sorry, love,” Hob says. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone out here.”

A smile tugs at Dream’s lips at the endearment, and he leans ever so slightly forward, as if he would chase it where it lingers on Hob’s lips. “It is no matter.”

“You hungry?” Hob asks.

Dream frowns. “Should you not be resting?”

“Those guys made me miss dinner and I’m starving,” Hob says. “I might be mildly concussed but I’m pretty sure I can still boil water. Come on.”

Dream follows him silently to the kitchen, making no further protest.

Hob makes them some food, just pasta and sauce. Dream leans against the counter, sipping wine, as he works. Hob doesn’t trust him to help. Kingly types never know their way around a kitchen.

“You know,” he says as he sits down at the table, puts a bowl of pasta in front of Dream and then starts eating his own probably faster than is truly advisable, “the rescue was extremely entertaining and all, but I would also love to see you in situations that don’t involve extreme peril.”

“I will try to visit more, then,” says Dream.

Hob blinks. It’s that easy now?

“I intended to return earlier, but I had more left to do than I anticipated,” Dream continues. “Is it not customary for lovers?”

Hob chokes on his food.

Lovers, now? Zero to one hundred in an instant with this one. Not that Hob is opposed. He’s always been greedy and he’ll glut himself on Dream if allowed. He just… didn’t think he would be allowed.

He takes Dream’s hand on the tabletop. Dream hasn’t eaten anything, not that Hob really expected him to.

“I guess it is,” he says, grinning.

Dream smiles, that small, true smile that Hob loves more each time he gets to see it.

“Is that what we are?” Hob continues, playing with Dream’s fingers on the table. “Lovers?” And, because he knows better now than to leave that sort of question in Dream’s hands, adds, “Because I’d like that. Don’t know precisely what that means to you, though.”

Lovers could be something all-consuming. It could also just mean that they meet every hundred years as they have done, but they get to have sex, too. Hob knows which one he’d rather.

“It means…” and here Dream does pause to think, as though the city he’d already built of them in his head is not proving so well-mapped in reality. Doesn’t Hob know the feeling.

Dream sighs. “I have frequently proven an insufficient lover,” he admits. “What it ‘means’ matters little, for that rarely seems to bear itself out.”

In all his recent loony mulling over Dream, Hob’s also been thinking about dreams. Bit hard to be in love with dreams sometimes. But now he thinks, also, that it must be terribly frustrating to be the king of all imagined possibility, and then have to contend with the limitations of reality.

“It matters to me,” Hob says. He squeezes Dream’s hand. “Tell me?”

Dream doesn’t speak again. He stands and comes around to Hob’s side of the table. Leans over him, wraps a hand around the back of Hob’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His grip is gentler than Hob thinks it really wants to be, in deference to Hob’s head injury—if Dream had his way he would pull hard but he doesn’t, and that alone sends a rush of tender heat through Hob’s body.

He cranes his head back, lets Dream’s grip move him. Dream curls around him, as if to blanket Hob with his form, slots a leg between his, and kisses him. With tongue. With teeth. With that would-be-strength with which he’d grabbed Hob’s hair, ferocious possession held at bay by gentler care. God does Hob want to tell him to damn the injuries to hell, he’ll live—he wants to feel that in full.

Dream gentles the kiss. Nips at the corner of Hob’s mouth, then licks over where he’d bit. Nuzzles into Hob’s hair, tucks his nose by Hob’s ear. Hob wraps an arm around his waist, holding him tight, and Dream buries himself close to him in a way that reminds Hob of when he’d convinced him to stay, to sit with him and admit, even if just by implication, that everything was not quite all right.

“That’s what it means?” Hob says, still breathless from the kiss.

Dream’s somnolent voice rumbles through his body. “Yes.”

Hob smiles to himself, and tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. “Good.”

[soobnny]

i hate that man — kim seungmin.

trope. enemies to lovers. college au. fluff. seungmin being a menace.

synopsis. the four times you think you hate seungmin, and the one time you think that might not have been true after all

word count. 5.5k words

warnings. a joke about jumping out the window, crying over a failed test exam, curse words

author’s note. inspired by that tiktok audio!! u know which one i’m talking about. credits to a dialogue i got from here (ur thoughts n feedbacks r always appreciated)

one.

Kim Seungmin is not your favorite person.

He is infuriating in the way he enjoys invading your personal space, always hovering around and blabbering his mouth nonstop every chance he gets. It doesn’t help his case (not that he wants to defend it in the first place) that he finds joy in hiding your things from you. You’d be damned if you left your notebook, even a pen, on your desk unattended. You already know the culprit is seated directly behind you, and the only thing you can do is ignore him in hopes that he returns it to you unscathed.

It’s much easier to not understand the reasons for why he annoys you. You would hate to find the truth behind his actions for the fear that he did it simply because he wanted to. This would only mean there was nothing to resolve to get him to stop.

Or worse, that he hates you. You admit with shame that you thought you’d actually get along quite well with Seungmin when you first met him. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, playful banter and soft smiles directed to each other and the hopes of meeting each other again. It was honestly like a fairytale — until it wasn’t.

And you’ve tried before, to find out. You’ve made sufficient efforts in scouring for answers as to why he was that way with you, going as far as to asking Hwang Hyunjin (as embarrassing as that turned out to be). But, you had come out of all that empty-handed. So, you leave the unknown unknown and since then decided to just endure it. But it still has you wondering from time to time, had you burned down an orphanage in your past life to deserve this? Had you done something so sinister to be plagued by the presence of Kim Seungmin on a daily basis?

So, while you don’t necessarily hate the boy, you’d go as far as to say he was probably your least favorite person. And that notion weighs heavy considering you know resident menace Choi Beomgyu.

Still, Choi Beomgyu had nothing on Kim Seungmin so he’d have to accept being second to the last on your self-proclaimed list.

Speaking of the devil.

Seungmin parades into your classroom like he owns the place, laughing aloud side by side his friends. You simply drown out his obnoxiousness, the way you always do, though it never works considering it’s apparently his top priority to get on your nerves.

“Another Mcdonalds takeout?” He inquires, picking up the discarded paper bag on your desk to look inside. “You really should stop eating this junk so early in the morning.”

“Wow, keep saying things like that and I’ll start to believe you’re starting to care about me.” You abruptly grab the bag from his hands, moving to the back of your classroom to throw your trash properly before the professor walks in.

“Don’t be silly.” He simply laughs, taking his seat on your desk. “What do you even order?”

“Food, obviously.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What food specifically?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Can’t I ask a simple question?”

You know he won’t leave you alone if you don’t answer him. And you hate that you know that. So, with a begrudging sigh, you answer the boy. “Just nuggets and a Big Mac, now get off my desk.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He’s being sarcastic, evident in how it’s obnoxiously dripping down his tone, but you can’t find it in you to care. As long as he’s out of your hair for a few minutes.

And you almost think the Gods have answered your prayers when you don’t come across him for the rest of the day. Something about that tells you there is a silver lining for the day, even if it is only ever a little line. You would hate to be blessed with his presence atop the Chemistry test you had at 7pm.

It’s one of the few advantages to signing up for night classes. The college halls were usually dead this hour, save for a few students on their way to the library after having their fifth cup of coffee for the day. And the lack of Kim Seungmin. It’s one sacrifice, giving up hours of your night, but honestly it really isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Especially when your professor always ends early in consideration of those who still had to commute back home — they had to catch the last train somehow.

To replace Seungmin, you had Yang Jeongin in your class, but he usually kept to himself more. He was a lot more civilized than his friend, and you’ve been hoping this would’ve at least rubbed off on Seungmin.

“You ready for the test?” Jeongin asks after you had taken your seat next to him. The first thing you discern is the lack of textbooks and notes on his desk compared to everyone else’s pathetic attempt to review last minute. It seems he’s given up like you did.

“Absolutely the fuck not. I haven’t even eaten dinner yet so this is going to be a disaster.” You laugh, dropping your bag down on the ground just as your professor walks in. Jeongin is on his phone for the rest of the free time you have left before test papers and answer sheets were distributed.

It’s a horrible hour and a half, and the difficulty of the test makes you want to fall to your knees and weep. The lack of dinner in your stomach doesn’t exactly help your case as by the last few minutes of the test, you couldn’t care less about why you use ammonium oxalate to precipitate Calcium and Magnesium. The only thing in your head is a picture of your go-to Mcdonalds order as you pass your paper.

A jumpscare greets you on your way out in the form of Kim Seungmin who is holding a Mcdonalds paper bag in his hands, the same one you had just been daydreaming about.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The sight of the boy spikes up your blood pressure, and you have to pause in your step to catch your breath after not having dinner, suffering through a long test, and seeing Seungmin all within the span of a few hours.

Though, what he does next surprises you.

“I ordered too much for Innie so you can have this, I guess.” He mumbles, shoving the brown paper bag in your direction. It scorches your fingers as you reached to grab it before it can fall to the ground.

It was a strange sight for Seungmin to be giving you something without asking. Strange and funny for it had occurred to you that if someone were to tell you Seungmin would be your stomach’s knight in shining armor, you wouldn’t have been able to believe yourself.

“Oh, thanks? You didn’t… poison this, did you?”

“How little do you think of me?” He simply walks away before you can reply to him again.

You scrunch your nose in confusion, leaning down to look into the contents of the Mcdonalds paper bag he had just given you.

Nuggets and a Big Mac.

Was this also Jeongin’s go-to order?

When you look back up, said boy greets you with french fries stuffed in his mouth. There’s a hint of a smirk that’s barely visible from his puffed out cheeks.

“You know, you can be really stupid.” Jeongin giggles to himself, patting down your head and messing with your hair a little before waving you goodbye. “Bye (name)!”

You simply stare at their retreating figures, head tilted as you try to drink in what Jeongin had just told you.

Stupid about what? The test?

two.

What is the connotation of a very thrilled Kim Seungmin walking into the campus library as you’re struggling with your part for your joint project?

You’re almost convinced something significant had happened for him to walk in with a shit-eating grin on his face, but you know better than that now. So, you simply ignore him, turning back to your laptop as Felix and Hyunjin greet the boy. He’s late, but knowing him, he’s probably finished his part of the project. You hate to acknowledge his competence, but you have to give credit where credit is due.

You could obviously ask for help, but you’d run through the streets naked first before ever asking the boy to help you. You refuse to be subjected to his taunting more than you already were. Besides, you don’t need help from someone like Seungmin. He’d probably be so arrogant about how you needed his help.

Rubbing your eyes for a split second, you go back to furiously typing at your laptop — so aggressively that Yeji has to pull you back for a bit in fear that you’d destroy your keyboard.

The five of you work on the project diligently, finishing the monstrosity of your synthesis paper for Life Science at almost one in the morning.

When everyone moves to leave, you stay behind, telling them you still had a few deadlines to catch up on, namely a Statistics paper and a book review for your English Literary class. While it wasn’t exactly due yet, it doesn’t hurt to start them when the pump of coffee is already in your system.

“See you guys tomorrow!” You say in a hushed tone, waving at the group before moving your attention back on your laptop.

And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation getting to you but you don’t notice Seungmin still situated at the opposite end of your table.

He doesn’t say anything either. He knows you’re running 50% coffee and 50% restlessness, so he simply sits back in his chair with a book in hand.

He could use the time to annotate anyway.

When Seungmin glances back at you thirty minutes later, he can only watch in amusement when he finds you close to passing out on the wooden table of the library. Your eyelids are starting to droop, and even though it seems you’re trying your hardest to fight it, you find that your sleeved arm is far too comfortable to refuse.

He immediately puts down his book, moving across the table to wake you up. It seems the appropriate time to tell you to go home and get some rest.

When you don’t respond to the gentle shake of your shoulder, he choose the next best thing to wake you up. With a text book in hand, he drops it on the space right beside your head, creating a loud enough sound to jolt you in your sleep.

“Come on. We’re going home. You’re a lost cause, anyway.”

“Fuck you.” You grumble sleepily, sitting up and squinting at your laptop before shutting it down so you can start packing up.

“I’m flattered, really, but no thanks.”

You scoff, and he simply smirks in response as he helps you put your things back in your bag.

“Why are you still here anyway?” It’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask him since you finally noticed him an hour back, but you chose to bite down on your tongue and stay silent instead.

He shrugs. “Had to annotate this book, and I’m already at the library so I might as well.”

“Okay, whatever.” You move to grab a pen that had fallen on the ground carelessly, and in the process, you feel your head collide with Seungmin’s hand instead of the harsher corner of the table.

You see red almost immediately. You hate to admit the small gesture has butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls his hand back, so you don’t make a big deal out of it.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

You hum, thinking of how you were gonna get back to your dorm. It was probably still dark outside, and you weren’t exactly willing to put yourself in danger over finishing up a few schoolworks at the library.

“You can go ahead. I’ll just text Ode to see if he’s still awake.”

“Why?” He quips, pausing to stand next to you outside the doors of the building when you stop walking.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“There is a chance, yes. But I might not.” Seungmin smirks, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t wanna walk alone in the dark.”

If Seungmin wants to laugh and poke fun, it seems he’s doing a good job at holding back. “Don’t disturb his sleep. I’ll walk you back instead.”

“Wow, you’re actually being nice to me for once.” You say jokingly.

“I won’t make a habit out of it. Besides, I was the last person seen with you and I don’t wanna be responsible if you go missing.”

There goes being nice.

This is how you end up walking home with Kim Seungmin. You don’t remember much about the walk home, just the proximity from where he’s walking next to you and the warmth radiating from him in contrast to the cold night. He has his hands in his pockets the whole way home, and it’s the little details like what seems to be the first genuine smile you see from him that you remember the most.

When you reach your dorm, he simply stares at you in a way you’re not used to before bowing and turning around his step to start walking back to his own dorm.

three.

A month later, Chan from your university’s basketball team decides to host a party at his house.

Being friends with half of his friends had its perks in that he enthusiastically invites you when you walk past him by your department’s hallways. And while you had every intent to decline his offer, Ryujin had already accepted for you and told him he’d be seeing you both there.

And by 8pm, you find yourselves inside his packed house, trying to navigate your way through drunken college kids. The entire first floor reeked of alcohol and sweat which wasn’t a great combination by all means.

The music is loud from Chan’s speakers, and you immediately want to go home and jump into the comforting sheets of your bed to sleep the night away. Ryujin doesn’t let you flee as she leads you to the kitchen where she tells you of where Chan hides his secret stash of snacks and ice cream. Another silver lining.

You spend an hour chatting and laughing on the kitchen counter with Ryujin, a spoonful of ice cream in your mouths as you make fun of multiple people’s dancing — not that any of you could do any better. Actually, scratch that, Ryujin could probably take them all on. You continuously ask if it was okay for you to be stealing these expensive tubs of ice cream and Ryujin just tells you she’s done it before, and that Bang Chan could most definitely afford some more if he wanted to. So, you continue to eat the ice cream without guilt.

Well, until Chan catches the pair of you, and you apologize profusely. He just laughs it off, looking at the two of you fondly before feigning a scolding. Turns out, he simply wanted you two to join him and his friends in a round of truth or dare upstairs.

Another thing to add and check off your non-existent bucket list. To be deemed sociable enough to be included in an exclusive circle of friend’s truth or dare despite only knowing around 4 people there. You think it might just be Ryujin’s doing, but you happily tag along to escape the mass of people downstairs.

When you make it upstairs, you’re surprised to see you know a lot more people than you thought you would. Yeji was there, seated beside who you think is Karina. Jeongin is with his friends, Seungmin included. Some of them you know, and some you just learned to be Jisung, Changbin, and Minho. The rest don’t really matter to you as you prop yourselves down in the circle.

And then a round of the game starts, and you start to question the things in this world that perplexed you. You used to think it were simple things — wet doorknobs, tuna fish, cramps, back pains. But after tonight, you might have to start modifying your own list. You can start with someone’s attempt to rap freestyle, the sight of a shirtless Han Jisung whom you’ve barely exchanged a word with but now have seen him half naked, the sudden knowledge of who was wearing a Spongebob themed underwear, someone (you believe was Minho?) roleplaying a scene from Zootopia. The list is endless.

Who knew a game of truth or dare could be this chaotic? Though, you probably should’ve known that especially being thrown into a group of such dynamic people.

Before you know it, the bottle lands on you and you’ve never wanted to wipe the smirk on Jeongin’s face so much than right now because you know he’s probably planning something that has to do with Kim Seungmin.

You think you can keep your anxiety at bay, that is until he starts whispering with Felix and Hyunjin and you swear that if someone opened the window right now, there’s a high chance you would make a run for it and jump and simply hope for the best.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t anything crazy! You can stop chewing on your nails.” You flush in embarrassment when the group laughs, and Ryujin runs a comforting hand down your back to make sure the attention isn’t too overwhelming for you.

“I dare you to hug Seungmin.”

“Excuse me?” You ask him to repeat his dare to you as if you hadn’t heard him. But you did. Loud and clear in fact.

The smirk on his face only grows. “I said, hug Seungmin.”

Okay, you know what, that should be simple. You sigh out in response before getting up from your seat to make your way towards where Seungmin’s situated, thankful he didn’t let you do anything as embarrassing as the others.

However, the closer you make towards where Seungmin is, wearing a top that accentuated his broad shoulders way too perfectly, and sporting a smug grin on his face, you start to think this might be the most difficult one of the night yet.

Seungmin stands in compliance to your dare, and you feel all eyes in the circle shift to the pair of you, as if anticipating it more than you.

His eyes survey you, as if to question if you were really gonna do it. And to egg you on further, he decides to open his arms wide which earns a few howls and whistles from the room. God, you hate him. You really really hate him.

And then you do it, just to get it over with, and Seungmin’s expression switches to a more taken back one. He didn’t expect you to actually push through with the dare. The longer the hug lasts, the more a ghost of a smile threatens to spill from his lips.

You have your arms wrapped around the entirety of his body, and his own resting just around your waist, and he’s crouched down a little so he can match your height better without you having to tiptoe so much.

When he presses you closer, the whole room erupts in cheers; vomiting air, nudging each other, and whistling.

Seungmin allows himself a quick glance at you, but there isn’t much to see when your face is pressed firmly against his chest. Perhaps to try and hide from the embarrassment of your friends shouting “get a room” even if you were just hugging.

He feels so warm in the air conditioned room, and it seems he didn’t have much to drink tonight when he smells more like fresh laundry and the perfume he always wears. This feels nice actually. But you would never tell him that. In fact, you have every intention of taking that observation to your grave.

When you finally notice the glances of friends and acquaintances alike around you, you pull back from the hug and immediately make your way back to your seat without another word.

You make a vow to yourself to get back at Jeongin for humiliating you like that — however, there’s a persistent voice in your head telling you that maybe you hadn’t minded that hug one bit the way you let on.

You ignore it.

four.

The sound of a shutter going off and a flash of light greets you immediately upon entering your classroom another month later.

It seems Seungmin’s found an upgraded way to annoy you (as if hiding your things wasn’t enough). With a new phone gifted to him on his birthday, he seems insistent on catching you when you’re unprepared. It makes you frustrated — as if he wasn’t enough of an irritant.

You should be used to Seungmin doing stupid things all the time, but even after months, you find that it really is a difficult task to endure. Why is he so intent on irritating you? You’re starting to seek for the answers you told yourself to stay unknown. How could you keep letting him be without knowing why he enjoys getting a rise out of you so much?

To add insult to injury, his loud voice greets you a good morning as he waves his phone around at you. You hope it falls and shatters.

Too far?

“What? Are you camera shy?” He smirks mischievously, turning to focus his camera back on you.

“At what point do you become mature?”

“Hm, not for a long time, I don’t think.” You have to remind yourself he’s provoking you for the sake of it, and you really shouldn’t be as affected as you feel right now. So, you breathe in sharply through your nose and just let him be.

When class ends, you’re quick to rant to Ryujin about Seungmin’s new discovery at getting a kick out of you.

“He won’t stop taking fucking pictures of me.” You mutter indignantly, putting all your frustration into your words.

“You know, they say you only take photos of things if you have love for the subject.”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“Just that there must be a reason why he’s so intent on having your face litter the memory of his new phone.” Ryujin smirks when your face starts to flush red at the realization of what she’s suggesting.

“Oh, shut up.” Your words don’t come out as intimidating as you want it to, and you spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

You confront Seungmin the next day, just so you can stop thinking about it. “Why are you taking so much photos of me?”

You’re already expecting that smirk on his face, and a feigned confusion. But, to your surprise, he looks genuinely surprised at your question. You’d go as far as saying he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

You’ve unknowingly caught his tongue, but he catches himself before you can catch on. With a half-assed smirk on his face, he says the best excuse that comes in his mind.

“Just so I have multiple material to use when I need to blackmail you.”

You’re appalled, and frustrated at yourself for thinking what Ryujin was hinting at might be true. You don’t even know why you were hoping in the first place. You don’t like the boy, right?

Your lips press into a straight line, and you swear your blood vessels might burst if you stare at him any longer so you storm back to your seat and ignore him for the rest of the day.

five.

There comes a point in the semester when all you’ll know is the quivering of your knees and the bloodshot red of your eyes from crying too much.

For you, it’s the result of a failed test score on a subject you studied really hard for.

You draw your knees up to press your face against them, finding solace in the quiet of the night outside. It’s early enough that you aren’t scared to walk home alone just yet.

You hear footsteps around you, but you simply drown them out in favor of focusing on washing out your frustration over yourself and that stupid test. Though, it proves a more difficult task when someone slides into the seat next to yours. When you look up, you see Seungmin staring at you. And he’s looking at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but equally don’t have the energy to try and deduce.

“Seungmin, I’m not really in the mood—“ He shuts you up with a handkerchief shoved in front of your face. “Why are you offering me a handkerchief?”

“Because you’re crying and seeing your stupid tears makes me upset. So wipe them away.” You stare at the handkerchief before studying his features for any hint of malice, but you see nothing but honest concern. You can’t help but feel a little touched at the uncharacteristic gesture.

“Thanks.” He hums, smiling gently down at you, and you think you’ve never seen him look this small before.

When you take the handkerchief from him, you make sure to return what looks like a trial of a smile amidst your scornful face and Seungmin is genuinely shocked you’d actually direct the closest thing to a smile at him — as if he had expected you to brush off his own and reject it.

When he shifts a little closer to where you’re seated, you surprisingly don’t feel repulsed at the distance and the way his shoulders brush against yours.

“Is it something you wanna talk about?”

The cold and quiet atmosphere of the night and the way Seungmin is looking down at you encourages you to speak, the way you never thought you would with the boy.

“Not really. Just… I’m so stupid for failing that test. And, and maybe if I studied harder than I would’ve at least gotten a more decent score.” You sigh, playing with the handkerchief as you look down in humiliation.

Seungmin scrunches his face. “It’s not your fault. We win some, we lose some. What matters is that we keep going despite the losses.”

He doesn’t snap back at you with a snarky remark like he usually would. Instead, he gives genuinely useful advice, and you think your ears could be deceiving you if he wasn’t seated directly next to you.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you to say something like that.” You laugh a little, and you miss the way the tip of his ears heat in red at being able to solicit a laugh from you.

“You wound me.”

You don’t know what takes over you, but you find yourself leaning your head against his shoulder. For now, you’ll blame it on the exhaustion from crying so much earlier.

Your head against his body feels nice and comforting and warm against the biting air from the night, but you can feel him physically tense up at the contact and you almost pull your head back immediately if he hadn’t rested his head against yours.

The compromising position has Kim Seungmin in contemplation over something that’s been such a great concern in his life for the past few months, almost a year even. It had started when he met you, the first time he ever saw you and heard your voice, and the day he decided he’d spend every second thereafter trying to get your attention.

He mirrors the way you interact with your friends, and yet somewhere along the line, it had been misinterpreted into something it wasn’t and he had to live in pretense of irritating you when all he’s ever wanted was your attention. But, he thought, if this was the only way then he’d have to keep the facade up.

Besides, a little attention (even if it was with hatred) is better than none.

When Seungmin grows uncharacteristically quiet, you start to wonder what he could be thinking about and why there’s a small scrunch in his face as if he was deep in thought.

You never used to wonder what he could be thinking about. What’s changed?

“Seungmin?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you enjoy irritating me so much? Do you hate me?”

Seungmin peels his head from yours, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face. 

“Hate you?” He feels nauseous that you could even think that, and he’s shaking his head quickly, compromising feelings he’s kept hidden for quite a while now. He’s so confounded by your statement that he gets up from his seat on the bench for a second to stare at you before calming down and returning back to his spot. “I don’t hate you. I— I could never hate you.”

You look at him, and you’re surprised to see that he’s genuinely astonished and a little upset at what you had just tried to imply.

“Then why?” You swallow down a lump in your throat, asking him in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from you. This was the perfect opportunity to ask him why, being handed to you straight on your lap, so you bite the bullet and ask.

“I actually thought we’d get along quite well when we met. And then you just started to… I don’t know.” His eyes are soft as he listens to you, lips slightly parted as if trying to think of the perfect explanation to clear your misinterpretations.

When you finish, Seungmin closes his eyes to recollect his thoughts. For a second, you think he might be coming up with an excuse to save himself but the earnest way in which he looks at you the moment he opens his eyes again quiets the voice in your head.

“I just wanted your attention.” His face visibly cringes at the sudden confession. Seungmin feels like he’s floating, looking down at his physical body that’s trying to explain himself without embarrassing himself further.

“You… what?” You blink.

He sighs out, wiping the sweat that’s gathered from his palms down his pants before tilting his head back as if trying to ask strengths from the Gods so he can admit to you whatever he’s been hiding. And then, he looks back at you and he finally confesses what he’s been keeping from you for months.

“I thought that maybe if I acted the way you did with your friends then there’d be a higher chance we’d get along. But then you misinterpreted it as hatred, and I’ve had to pretend I enjoy irritating you when all I really want to do is hold your hand.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as if afraid of your response, but all you can do is stare at him with your mouth parted.

This definitely wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“But… but it really felt like you hated me. Like— when you’d make fun of me for my food choices or that time in the library when you stayed behind to taunt me for being a lost cause.”

“You have me all wrong, (Name). When I asked you what you liked, it was an excuse so I could get it for you. Do you really think I’d accidentally buy too much dinner for Jeongin, and have the excess be exactly your favorites? And… and that night at the library. I stayed behind because I know you’re afraid to walk home late. So you would be less afraid if I walked you home.”

You meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you gauge the level of genuineness in his eyes.

“You— You hugged me as a dare in Chan’s party and sometimes that’s all I think about.” Seungmin falls silent after that, simply letting out a breath he feels he’s been holding for too long.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a lot to take in.” He fiddles with the ends of the sweater he’s wearing, making sure to avoid eye contact.

“Seungmin.” The simple sound of his name from your lips has him looking at you despite trying his best not to. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. It must be a lot to take in.”

“I thought you hated me for months and now, you’re telling me the exact opposite.” Your voice gradually quiets down, and Seungmin finds comfort when you scoot in your seat closer. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Would it hurt to start over?” You’re greeted with his softening stare, and he bites his lips in anticipation for your response.

“I think… I think I’d like that.”

Seungmin immediately smiles, the kind of smile that’s difficult to hide even in the inky night, even if he tried.

You find yourself mirroring his own smile.

The thought of finding out the truth behind Seungmin’s actions has always scared you, but now you know you should’ve never been afraid.

Somehow, things are already starting to change, with an outstretched hand in your direction. You find yourself taking it in yours with ease.

“Hi, I’m Seungmin. It’s nice to meet you.”

[galexystern]

easy - 18+

pairing; actor!steve harrington/fem!reader

warnings; smut (MDNI), angst, tooth-rotting & v cheesy fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie, jealousy, kinda hurt/comfort, one use of y/n near the end

word count; ~4.3k

desc; while on a press tour for his latest movie, steve says something that sends you into a spiral. something that forces him prove his undying love for you when he gets home.

a/n; based off that interview of tom blyth and rachel zegler on the tbosas press tour. you know the one

read on ao3 / masterlist

You come upon it without trying. Dating an actor can be hard, watching them experience whole lifetimes and romances in a tight two-hour movie or eight-episode show, and your boyfriend Steve Harrington feels things deeper than others, you know. Thus why you never search the press Steve does for any project—you don’t need to hear it.

Of course, if something pops up on your feed, you’ll watch it. It’s impossible to swipe away from his lovely face; you’ve missed him so much as he’s worked on his latest movie, and any whiff of him is captivating. Which is how you see one specific interview he did with his co-star, Nancy Wheeler, the female love interest.

“Who wouldn’t love her? It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

As soon as you hear it, the words embed themselves. They echo within you all the time. You try to forget them, distract yourself, but it’s useless. You’d hoped they’d go away when Steve comes home, but they’re still there, bouncing around your brain like the world’s most annoying song. When he’s hugging you so tight you can barely breathe. When he’s smiling uncontrollably at being home. When he’s talking nonstop about his adventures on set.

“It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

“It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

“It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

You shake your head to get rid of the phrase, and take Steve into the dining room, where the table is ready with all his favorite foods. You’d prepared them in another attempt to quiet your mind, not that it had worked, but it makes him smile so it was worth it anyway. You sit him down and then slide into your seat across from him, watching as he dishes out onto his plate and digs in. You don’t touch it. You’re not hungry.

“And then, believe it or not, I slip on the goddamn banana peel. Can you believe that?” He laughs at his own bad luck. “They used that take for the final cut. Can’t wait for you to see it.” He’s been talking about taking you to the premiere since the date was set. The idea of being in front of reporters and cameras and the movie’s other stars is kind of nauseating.

That’s when you hear yourself blurting out, “Are you in love with Nancy?”

As soon as the words have left your lips you want to suck them back in. Your boyfriend’s eyes have widened astronomically and his hand is frozen, fork stuck halfway between the plate and his open mouth. Convenient, you think helplessly.

“Never mind,” you rush out before he can say anything, “forget it. I’m sorry.”

Steve blinks a couple times, seeming to come back into his body, and then carefully lays his fork down, bite of food unconsumed. He laughs awkwardly, and you cringe. Your fault for ruining the mood. “Can’t really forget that, can I?” He half-jokes before wiping his face with a napkin and then putting it on the table. His chair scoots back as he stands, and for a moment you’re terrified he’s going to walk out, insulted beyond belief that you would ask something so wild, but he just rounds the table to your side and sits in the seat next to you. He angles his body towards you, and maneuvers your chair to face him. You sit there like dead weight.

“Now, my love,” he starts gently, “what was your question?”

You don’t really want to repeat it, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything. “I asked if you were in love with Nancy,” you answer, almost inaudible.

He nods thoughtfully. “And why would you think that?”

He’s not being accusatory, but you still clam up, afraid of what could come next. You shrug instead.

“Angel, I’m not going to be mad at you. I promise.”

You meet his gaze, seeing love and sincerity shining brightly, and finally explain quietly, “I saw that interview you two had. Where you said that it was easy to fall in love with her.”

Steve exhales heavily. “I was afraid that might be it.” Your expression sharpens and he rushes to add, “I’m not in love with her. I was just worried this exact thing could happen after I said it.”

“Why’d you say it then?” You ask petulantly.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was thinking more in terms of my character instead of myself, truthfully. And I meant more in terms of her character too. Ryan would—and did—find it easy to fall in love with Sarah,” using their character names.

“But you said Nancy’s name.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry. You don’t usually look at my press so I wasn’t sure if you’d seen it, and I didn’t wanna bring it up and worry you. I know it sounds like an excuse, sweetheart, but I meant what I said. I’m not in love with Nancy.”

“Okay,” you reply, not fully convinced.

Steve can tell. “Baby, look at me, please?” You lift your head to meet his pleading stare. “I’m not in love with Nancy,” he says firmly, drilling it into you. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I’m going to stay in love with you for a long time. Forever, if you’ll let me.”

Again, words fly out before you can stop them. “Please don’t tell me that’s a proposal.”

He’s caught by an unexpected laugh. “No, honey. When I propose to you, you’ll know it.” A thrill runs through you with the use of “when” and your lip quirks up. But it’s quick to pop back down, and Steve notices. He pats his thighs. “Come here, angel.”

It takes a few seconds, but you eventually drag yourself from your chair and into his lap, letting your legs dangle and wrapping your arms around his neck. He secures his own around your waist, not letting you fall or slide backwards. You’re close enough that he can nuzzle his nose against yours, and you huff a giggle at the movement. His lips curl into a smile on your cheek.

He moves so that your foreheads are resting together and he can gaze deep into your eyes. You can’t look away. “I love you, baby. Only you. And you can always come to me if you’re upset or unsure or whatever. Okay?” You nod hesitantly. “Do you need me to prove it? That you’re the one for me?” You go breathless when his hands dip down to your ass and press you more firmly against him, feeling his hardness and making your underwear go wet in response. You nod more quickly this time and he smirks.

“C’mere then,” he whispers and you waste no time meeting his lips with yours. He kisses you, slow and languorous, taking his sweet time swiping his tongue across the seam of your mouth and exploring inside when you eagerly open for him. It’s like a dance, how it weaves with yours. This isn’t a time for domination.

You slide your hands into his hair and tug at the strands, swallowing his resulting moan. He seems to know innately when you need air and pulls away, only to come back and run his mouth along your jaw sweetly.

“Such pretty noises,” he murmurs, referring to the little whimpers you let out when he nips lightly at your skin. “Music to my ears, baby.”

If that’s the case, then you can only think he has to be delighted at your whiny moan when he sucks a mark into the pulse point on your neck. Sure enough, he thrusts into you at the sound, hitting your clit perfectly and soaking you further. You want to keep the friction going so you continue the grinding, Steve’s hands fully clutching your hips now to help you along.

Unexpectedly, he stands, bringing you with him. You squeal and wrap your legs around his waist desperately, not really believing he would drop you but feeling a tad scared anyways. He chuckles as he walks the both of you out of the dining room and up the stairs, nudging the bedroom door open with your hips. It’s dark, but the moon is shining in through the open window, creating a soft glow that compliments your boyfriend’s skin and shadows that outline his firm jaw. He sets you down slowly, letting your feet drag down until they softly land on the floor, and once you’re standing securely, he slides his hands up your body until they’re cupping your cheeks.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers, and you heat at the praise. He must be able to feel it, burning underneath your skin, but he doesn’t point it out.

He dips in and kisses you again, hands going to the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, up, up, over your head, interrupting the kiss for just a moment and then he’s back on you. His fingers explore the newly revealed skin, caressing it reverently, like you’re made of the most precious substance and might break if he presses too hard. Shivers fizzle wherever his touch goes—across your stomach, over your hips, up your back. He finds your bra strap and unhooks it, moving back a touch so he can pull it off along with his own shirt. He comes back immediately, and you gasp into his mouth as your breasts make contact with his chest hair, the wiry feeling of it rubbing against your nipples deliciously.

You break from his intoxicating mouth to whine his name. “Sh,” he soothes, “let me worship you. My angel from heaven.”

Your heart practically melts at the words and all thoughts of pouting disappear. You let Steve push you backwards and sit you on the edge of the bed. He stands above you, two fingers under your chin to angle your head up towards his. It’s almost impossible to look directly at him, the level of love and adoration in his expression blinding in its intensity.

“Love of my life. Can I taste you?” You nod dazedly at his question, unable to do anything else, unwilling to do anything else. “Lay back for me.”

Following orders, you do so, and he slips off your pants. His fingers stroke down your legs as they go, tugging off your socks as well. He kneels and you prop up on your elbows just in time to watch him bury his face between your legs, smelling you through your underwear. They’re already soaked, but he doesn’t seem to mind: he laps at the wet spot and moans. “Missed this so much, baby. Your taste, your smell. Couldn’t stop thinking about doing this the whole time I was gone.”

His fingers hook into the waistband and drag it down, infuriatingly slow, and you’re thinking of whining again when he licks a line up your slit. The intended whine comes out as a moan instead, spurring Steve on to press into you even deeper. You lose yourself in his ministrations, as he swirls his tongue across your folds and up to your clit. When he sucks it into his mouth, you collapse backwards, unable to hold yourself up any longer during this beautiful torture.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, hand drawing in and rubbing a finger against your entrance. “Let yourself feel it. Feel how much I missed you. How much I love you.”

Your eyes roll back when that finger breaches you, pushing inside and crooking upwards to catch that spot he always knows how to find. “Oh,” you breathe, “finally.”

His lips quirk up and you can tell he must be smirking. “Finally, huh?” You shake your head; he’d misunderstood. “What then, honey?”

“Couldn’t do it right myself,” you pant. “You do it—” your breath hitches as he brushes that spot again, “better.”

“Is that right?” As much as it irritates you, his smug tone is deserved.

“Yes…oh!” You exclaim. He’s inserted another finger, and now both are thrusting inside you, picking up their pace. Little noises fall from you as his tongue flicks your clit in time with his fingers, going deeper with each hit.

“Is my pretty baby going to cum for me?” Steve asks. It’s rhetorical—he can feel you clenching around him, can tell you’re right there on the edge. He knows your body like the back of his hand; he took his time memorizing everything that makes you tick and that knowledge is always tucked away for safekeeping in his head. He’s not in danger of forgetting any of it. So he knows you’re on the precipice. A few more seconds should do it. “Come on,” he urges. “Cum for me, my love. I’ve got you.”

As he suckles your clit, you explode, climax rushing through you like a drug and you float upon it. Your boyfriend works you through it, continuing to curl his fingers inside you to keep you going even higher. All until you’re whimpering from overstimulation—then you think he’s going to remove them. Instead, they increase in speed. You yelp as his mouth dives in again, tongue moving quickly.

“Steve!” You half-shout, eyes squeezing shut as the brilliant torment goes on.

“I know you’ve got another for me, princess,” he says in between licks. “Been wanting to make you squirt again. Got off to the memory of the last time you did every night I was away from you.”

“I can’t,” you cry. You grab his wrist but don’t move it, feeling the orgasm he wants hurtling towards you.

“You can, baby, I know it,” he coaxes. “Gimme another. Just one more and then you get my cock, okay?”

You throw your head back as liquid gushes from you, all over Steve’s face. “Oh, fuck!”

“That’s my girl.” He moves his hand away and sticks his tongue in, gathering up all your climax and swallowing it down, moaning at the taste he’d missed so much. When you’re squeaky clean, he stands above you, and you watch with hazy vision as he sucks his fingers into his mouth and groans in pleasure. “Always taste so good, princess.” You’re so fucked out already that you can’t even feel embarrassed. He wouldn’t want you to anyways.

You weakly lift your hands towards him and make grabby motions. He smiles and does as asked, leaning to hover over you and give you sweet kisses. You wrap your arms around his waist and tug him down, and he collapses on top of you in a huff. You hum contentedly and snuggle into him, making him chuckle fondly and lay on you like a weighted blanket.

“Missed you,” you mumble into his neck, “so much.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I said that stupid thing and got you all worried.”

“‘S okay. I know what you meant once you explained. You’ve always been almost a method actor.”

“Maybe, but full method acting is freaky and I’m good without.”

You giggle. “Me too.”

He shifts and you feel his cock on your leg, still hard and without relief. You subtly lift your thigh to rub it and he moans, dropping his head to your shoulder and biting lightly. “Aren’t I supposed to get that now?” You tease. “I gave you what you wanted.”

“And now you want in return?” His tone barely contains the smirk he’s definitely sporting. He lifts himself up to look at you and groans a little at your pleading pout.

“I’ll even wet it for you,” you add while batting your eyelashes. Truthfully, your mouth has been watering ever since he’d first mentioned it.

He kisses you deeply. “An enticing offer that I will take you up on next time, baby. I think I might die if I’m not inside you immediately.” You giggle again as he stands and shucks off his pants and boxers, the sound hitching when his large, red, throbbing cock slaps against his abdomen. He smirks at you unknowingly licking your lips when you spot the precum beading at the head. “Like what you see, angel?”

You nod, eyes still locked on his cock. “Gimme, please,” you whine.

“Anything for you, my love.” He climbs over you again and lines up. Your hips cant forward to urge him on, but his hands clamp down and pin them to the bed. “Gonna savor this,” he murmurs, rubbing his cock through your folds. Electricity bolts through you when it grazes your clit, teasing. His eyes are magnetized to where you’re about to be joined, awed at how beautiful you are for him.

Eventually, his cock notches into your entrance and you gasp lightly. That turns into a drawn-out moan as he takes his time sliding inside, one he matches as soon as he bottoms out. He’s so deep you think you can feel him in your stomach.

Then he’s gone, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in, slow but hard, and your back arches. “So responsive,” he coos, and does it again and again, until he’s moving at a steady pace and driving you crazy. Taking advantage of the leisurely tempo, he ducks his head down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, making you grip the bed sheets with tight fists. He swirls his tongue around, biting gently every now and then to make you jolt against him.

Going so slow grows maddening. “Faster, please, baby. Need more of you.”

“Your wish is my command,” he vows. Soon, he’s moving so hard and fast that the sound of skin slapping fills the room, oddly erotic. You look at him with half-lidded eyes, unable to do anything but take it, be Steve’s little plaything. It feels so good you can barely stand it.

You’re admiring how your boyfriend looks in the soft moonlight, making his eyes shine in an otherworldly way, when he says reverently, “You’re so beautiful like this, sweetheart. Lookin’ like an angel sent just for me. Because you’re all mine, right?”

“Yes, Stevie, all yours,” you moan.

He growls at that, putting his hands on your thighs and pressing them to your chest, allowing him to go even deeper. You keen at the new angle, sound cutting off as he kisses you desperately, and you throw your arms around his neck. He pulls back, much too quickly in your opinion, but you forgive him because he does so to say, “And I’m all yours, baby. You’re the only one for me. Only you make me feel this good. You’re all I think about, all I wanna think about. There’ll never be anyone else, princess. I love you and only you.”

His words push you closer and closer to your release, even more intense than the first two. He knows, urging you on by snaking a hand between your bodies and rubbing quick circles on your clit. “That’s it, soak my cock. Wanna feel you again, honey.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” you say over and over as your orgasm comes upon you. You scream Steve’s name when you finally cum, climax like a cascade, nails dragging down his back like they just might draw blood.

“Yes, angel, I love you too, missed you so much, oh my god, you’re so tight, love you, love you.” He’s babbling, finally cumming too, spilling hot and heavy. When he pulls out, your combined liquid pools out of you, and he groans one last time at the sight. He scoops some up with a finger to taste, eyes closing in delight. He opens them to look at you mischievously. “Wanna try?”

It should sound gross but it’s not. You nod and he repeats his motion. You suck his finger, pleasantly surprised by the enjoyable flavor. But it’s the essence of you and Steve–why wouldn’t it be good?

You must’ve fallen asleep after that, because the next thing you know Steve is wiping you with a warm washcloth, being as gentle as possible. You hum as he pulls the covers over you, but whine when you hear him step away. “It’s okay, angel,” he says softly, “I’ll just be a minute.” You listen to the dresser drawer opening and closing, and then Steve padding out of the room. You doze until you hear him come back and close the door. At long last, he slides into bed and gathers you in his arms. You curl around him like moss on an old building, and he buries his face in your hair.

“Thank you,” you whisper, half-asleep.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” Steve replies. “It’s my job to show you how much you mean to me. I love you so much, you know that? It’s the easiest thing to do, loving you.”

“Mm, I love you too.”

“I’m yours for good, angel. And you’re the only one for me. Promise.”

;

“It’s gonna be bright out there, angel, but just keep holding onto me, okay? I’ll get you there in one piece. All you have to do is show off that pretty smile. Sound good?” You nod at your boyfriend, smiling shyly. Steve grins. “There she is. Now, kiss for good luck?” You give him a kiss and then he’s out of the limo. Less than a minute later, he’s ducking back in the open door and holding out a hand for you. You take a deep breath, grab it, and slide out into the flashing lights.

A wall of sound hits you, and you try not to cringe against Steve. So many voices layer over each other, you don’t know what anyone is saying. But you just remember what Steve said and think of him on the night he came home and a smile forms on your face at the memory.

Steve helps you walk carefully down the red carpet, stopping you here and there to pose for the cameras. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you stable and so you can focus on looking natural. “Doing so good, baby,” he murmurs in your ear at one point, kissing your temple. You close your eyes when he does, hoping one of the photographers got a shot of it. You think you’d like to frame that.

Eventually you reach the end of the carpet, and Steve’s agent ushers you two into the building. It’s a whirlwind in here too, but more manageable, loud but controlled. Your boyfriend turns to you. “You okay?”

You sigh happily at the love and concern in his eyes. “I’m good,” you promise, and he smiles.

Someone shouts his name, and you both turn. None other than Nancy Wheeler is rushing towards you, a tall and lanky man being dragged behind. Steve automatically steps closer and holds your waist again, nodding back at his costar but only thinking about how you might feel. Your heart warms at his attention, and you meet Nancy with a genuine smile.

She stops and grabs your hands. “Oh my gosh, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, Steve mentioned you every chance he got. I’m so excited to meet you!”

“I’m excited to meet you too,” you reply.

“This is Jonathan, my boyfriend.” She motions to the boy beside her, who smiles awkwardly and holds out a hand. You shake it, as does Steve.

“Heard a lot about you too, man,” he says to Jonathan, making you feel even better.

“Are you excited for the movie?” Nancy asks, just to you. She’s barely even looked at Steve.

You nod. “Steve says it’s one of his favorites that he’s made.”

“Mine too! It’s such a sweet story. It’ll have you bawling by the end. I hope you brought tissues.”

You peer up at Steve, who had not told you that you were in for a crying fest. He laughs. “Don’t worry, angel. I got some.” He pats his jacket pocket.

Nancy’s eyes are glittering when you look back at her. “We gotta find our seats, but let’s talk at the after party. I have to put a face to all the stories Steve’s told!”

You agree and watch as she and Jonathan walk away into the crowd. You turn to Steve and he draws you close. “Are you sure you don’t wanna just go home and skip this whole thing?” He whines quietly.

You smirk. He’s been asking a variation of the same question ever since you stepped out of the bathroom in this dress—which accentuates your chest and ass “magnificently,” as Steve put it. He’d even tried starting something in the limo, but all that had accomplished was leaving him high and dry after you’d made him keep his hands to himself.

“You wanted me to see the movie,” you counter now.

“Yeah, but we could stream it later. It’s not like I’ll win an Oscar for it or anything.”

You roll your eyes. “You might! It’s prime awards season, babe. And you’ve been getting a lot of acclaim for this role. And you know the academies love a tear-jerker.” He blushes at your argument. “Plus,” you whip out the doe eyes, “I wanna see you on the big screen.”

He sighs in fake annoyance, a fond smile giving it away. “I did say your wish is my command, didn’t I?”

“Yup.” You smile triumphantly.

Steve grins back before kissing you soundly. “I love you, angel.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

He gives you one last peck, and then grabs your hand and leads you into the theater.

[rygujis]

⊹˚. ♡ what are we? draken x f!reader . 592 wc . crack, feat. hina & emma, draken's a tease, i might make another part of this

for months now, you and draken have been "seeing eachother". it's hard to explain. he's been taking you on all these cute dates, you've been flirting with one another, the two of you hold hands in public without even realizing it, and your friends have all assumed you're dating, which has made you start thinking,

"what are we?"

neither you or draken have asked eachother this, nothing has been made official, and frankly, you're afraid to ask. it seems like a dumb question, but could you really be blamed for asking it? you didn't know, and you aren't quite sure he knows either.

with encouragement from emma and hina, bless their hearts, you go ahead and pick up your phone. reluctantly, you dial his number, before hitting the big green button, you look up at your friends, whom both give you a nod and thumbs up. you shake off your worries, and call draken.

the phone rings for what feels like eternity, making your foot tap impatiently. suddenly, you hear a, "hello?" you nearly hang up right there. the whole pep talk you'd just gotten seems to of went right out the window, and you start to shake. "hi."

"what's up?" you realize how late it is, checking the clock on your nightstand. it's 12 am.

"i didn't wake you up, did i?"

"i was just 'bout to go to sleep, but don't worry about it."

"cool, cool."

silence.

"so.. why'd you call?" draken sounds confused, usually something like this would irritate him, like, if mikey had called him this late and just stayed quiet he'd be pretty ticked off, but he has a godly amount of patience when it comes to you.

"i wanted to ask you something."

he stays quiet.

"what- uh... what are we?"

more silence.

"ain't it obvious?" you freeze. seemingly. you turn a very deep red, because emma starts to giggle into hinas shoulder.

"what do you mean?" you can't help but laugh nervously, filled with anxiety. what does he mean? is he saying that in a "we're nothing more than friends, obviously!" kind of way or in a "obviously we're together!" way? it's hard to read his tone, that's right in between sounding playful and confused.

"tell me, what do you want us to be?"

oh, he wants you dead. that's basically impossible to say out loud with your two snickering best friends in front of you. you point to your door, mouthing "get out." at the two girls, resulting in hina scurrying out, dragging a whiny, nosy emma out with her.

"i- uh. i guess i was hoping we could be. y'know."

"no, n/n, i don't know."

you sigh, pouting dramatically. "y'know.. official. girlfriend 'nd boyfriend." you nearly throw up in your mouth out of sheer embarrassment, but you were proud of yourself for finally getting that out after questioning your relationship nonstop for the past week.

"hmm.. i suppose that could work."

"you suppose?!" he laughs, making you smile.

"i'm just kiddin', y/n. i'd love to make things official."

like a teen girl in one of those corny movies you watch, you fall on your back and kick your feet out of excitement. it almost felt like a dream come true, you've finally made it to the next base after months of build up.

"great."

"great."

"see you tomorrow?"

"sounds great."

"bye."

"bye."

the phone is still snug against your ear as you squeal in excitement, the que for the girls to run back in and bask in the excitement with you.

i might make a "part two" for this.. in quotes bc it could techically be a standalone but yk