#it makes me so happy when i get tags and replies fr

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

hey you. creator. i really like your silly art. have this bouquet.

your art is so silly and whenever you post it makes my day!

[reineyday]

hi you probably do not remember me but i posted a kryk fic in like, 2021 that i have since deleted bc i hated it LOL but i was making a spreadsheet of all my ao3 bookmarks and reread shot through the heart and holy shit dude kuroyaku disease is terminal and i will never be free and i will probably end up digging something up for them to finish this summer because they are so summer and anyway this is a really long unhinged message BUT. i may write kpop and merlin fanfic now but i remember my roots (kuroyaku, and subsequently your fic). sorry i'm very excited about this it's like the internet equivalent of seeing your favorite barista in a coffee shop in a new city anyway i hope you're having a really great time

[toruro]

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,”  he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | smau: one year!

lukecastell4n posted a story!

one year with my five ⭐️

tagged yn_yln.

yn_yln replied to this story:

yn_yln: i love you so much

yn_yln: i miss you so much

lukecastell4n: im literally in the kitchen making u breakfast

lukecastell4n: i love you more btw

yn_yln: idc about the food come back to bed

lukecastell4n: dont tempt me i will burn the pancakes

yn_yln: i need a kiss

lukecastell4n: 🏃🏻🏃🏻🏃🏻🏃🏻 coming

yn_yln: san francisco, new york, boston, and anywhere else you might end up, i’ll be right there by your side. happy one year to us. you’re my favorite person.

im not good with words the way that you are, my poet, but i’ll give you a hundred kisses and a million more to show you how i feel about you.

i love you, pretty boy. here’s to one year and a hundred more.

tagged lukecastell4n.

lukecastell4n: you’re never getting rid of me 🙂‍↕️

yn_yln: i know 😕

travisstoll: LMFAOOOOO

connorstoll: simp 🫵🏼

lukecastell4n: the emoji????? HELLOOOOO????

lukecastell4n: i love you five star. ♾️

yn_yln: i love you more 🩷

chrisr0driguez: imagine JUST BARELY celebrating ur one year 🥱 clarisselarue couldn’t be us!

clarisselarue: tell em baby

yn_yln: OK SORRY I WAS SCARED OF MY FEELINGS FOR HIM

lukecastell4n: yn_yln awww you have feelings for me fr??? 🥹

yn_yln: lukecastell4n i want to break up.

pois0nedmercuryf4n: LOL HER COMMENTS??? i love yn.

iluveluk3: no literally the perfect balance of love and bullying LOLLLLLL

liked by yn_yln.

lukecastell4n: u guys are supposed to be on my side 😀

pois0nedmercuryf4n: lukecastell4n sorry we’re yn stans first!

liked by yn_yln and lukecastell4n.

🎵: glue song by beabadoobee

lukecastell4n: not to be annoying on the main but today is my one year with my favorite person in the world and i need to share it with everyone.

my muse, my love, my forever five star. we’ve been apart more than we’ve been together in person this year but i wouldn’t choose anyone or anything else over you, over us.

the distance is fine for now because we have the rest of forever to be with each other. i love you, five star.

p.s stop looking over my shoulder while i type this.

tagged yn_yln.

yn_yln: how dare you make me cry on our anniversary

yn_yln: you’re evil

yn_yln: fuck i love you so much

lukecastell4n: i love you more you dork stop crying

yn_yln: i just want to make it known that he’s also crying rn

chrisr0driguez: everyone point and laugh at lukecastell4n 🤣🫵🏼

travisstoll: lukecastell4n 🤣🫵🏼

connorstoll: lukecastell4n 🤣🤣🤣🫵🏼

travisstoll: mama y papa

p0isonedmercuryluvr: real

chrisr0driguez: rs, so happy for you bro 🩷 don’t let her go

chrisr0driguez: clar will kill u i think

lukecastell4n: clarisselarue dont worry clar i wouldn’t even dream of it

clarisselarue: good 🥰🔪

p0isonedmercuryfans: happy 1 year to lukecastell4n and yn_yln! thank you yn for giving us bf!luke 🙏🏽

tagged lukecastell4n and yn_yln.

yn_yln: thank u guys!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

liked by p0isonedmercuryfans.

lukeluvr: husband! luke when????

lukecastell4n: soon 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

yn_yln: lukecastell4n 🤨🤨

lukecastell4n: gods can’t a guy plan a proposal in peace???

yn_yln: THE TABLOIDS ARE GONNA GO CRAZY WITH THIS ONE

iluvpm: the way luke and yn are probably giggling writing these comments while they’re next to each other rn omg

chrisr0dfan: GOD WHEN IS IT MY TUUUURRRNNNN

pm4ever: no ur so right… sleeping on the highway tn

lukecastell4n: iluvpm u would be correct.

iluvpm: lukecastell4n ARIANA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE

[luvhughes43]

instagram official | blake hughes au

blake hughes masterlist

blake.hughes

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, trevorzegras, and others

blake.hughes life lately :)

view all comments

jackhughes suit jacket looks a lil familiar...🧐

blake.hughes oh really?😁

nicohischier whoevers jacket it is has really nice taste! liked by blake.hughes

trevorzegras 🤭🤭

user00 wtf are u giggling about?

blake.hughes wait trev do u know?

trevorzegras yea jack called a mandatory ft a few days ago

blake.hughes omfg??

trevorzegras im happy for u goldie!

user01 BLAKE WATCH OUT!!! THERES A MAN BESIDE U!!

user02 blakes got a bf? omg im so happy for her

user03 monroes the cutest cat omfg

user04 wait can we acknowledge trevor calling blake goldie? what is that

user05 its been a thing for awhile now! he started calling her goldie after she won olympic gold! he mentioned it in an interview or something i think

user04 NICO NICO NICO

nicohischier

liked by blake.hughes, john.marino97, trevorzegras, and others

nicohischier Happy Holidays!😈❤️

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jackhughes 🔥🔥

blake.hughes 😈

user09 using the "😈" when soft launching ur teammates sister is crazy

user10 waittt who's he dating?

user09 streets are saying hes dating blake hughes! she recently posted a soft launch AND she was caught liking thirst edits of him😭

user10 oh theyre so unserious😭😭

comments on this post is limited

blake.hughes added to their story !

nicohischier posted one minute ago!

liked by jackhughes, blake.hughes, lhughes_06, and others

nicohischier the best december :)

tagged: blake.hughes

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blake.hughes :)

blake.hughes you make me beyond happy

nicohischier Du bringst mich zum Lächeln❤️

jackhughes nice but was the last pic really necessary?

nicohischer my bad

lhughes_06 does this mean I get to call you dad now?

jackhughes no

_quinnhughes no

user17 BLAKE???????

user18 OMFG ITS CONFIRMED THEY BOTH POSTED

user18 at the same time too like thats soulmatism😭🙏

user19 nicos reply in german... im gonna kms theyre so cute wtf😭

blake.hughes posted 1 minute ago!

liked by nicohischier, _quinnhughes, trevorzegras and others

blake.hughes my nico<3

tagged: nicohischier

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jackhughes … yours🤨

jackhughes pretty sure he was mine first bud

blake.hughes right but out of the two of us, who does he spend his nights with?

jackhughes WOAH?????

trevorzegras i think he’s ALL of ours

jackhughes no

blake.hughes no

nicohischier my girl❤️

trevorzegras 👽🍿

blake.hughes ok

_quinnhughes FINALLY🙏

jackhughes ?

_quinnhughes i’ve been waited for MONTHS for them to go ig official you don’t understand

jackhughes how tf did you find out so soon? Dawson literally told me like 2 weeks ago

_quinnhughes I know everything.

jackhughes alright mr. “i don’t really consider myself someone who knows what’s going on”

_quinnhughes they probably could’ve made out in front of you and you still wouldn’t have realized… mr. “I didn’t know there was a city in New Jersey”

trevorzegras Trevor ZEGRAS🧡

user20 in every pic of blake and nico hes always touching her in some way... like he loves her so bad they are my parents

user21 THE WAY BLAKE LOOKS AT NICO IM GOING TO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE THEY LOOK SO IN LOVE

user22 oh to be a fly on the wall when jack found out about the news...

user23 bro was definitely pouting he has such intense middle child syndrome

user24 MY NICO... MY GIRL??? ?OHHH ITS SO OVER THEY'RE SO DAMN CUTE

user25 i'm so glad that blake is happy after everything that happened... she deserves it the most<33

user26 NICO AND BLAKE ARE FR DATING??? WHY WHY WHY WHY

user27 ? get serious

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (8)

In which Ollie turns 21...

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

scuderiaferrari posted

scuderiaferrari Happy Birthday to the youngest driver on the grid!

tagged: olliebearman

liked by aubreyyang, charlesleclerc and 990,842 others

user1 awww everyone say ty admin

olliebearheart BABY BEARMAN ALERTT

aubreyyang ❤️🎂

olliebearman and the author liked this comment

olliebearman Thank you! ❤️

charlesleclerc happy birthday son, can't believe you're 21

-- olliebearman love u dad

-- user2 STOP MY HEART

logansargent happy birthday bro!

landonorris party hard mate 🍾

MESSAGES

aubrey

happy birthday ollie!! im so happy I met u in that paddock :) you make life more fun good luck with your next race xx

ollie

thank you aubrey :)

wish you were in Italy with me us rn

aubrey

:( me too ive been in meetings all week

but party hard!!

ollie

can't Im on a strict diet :(

also it would be more fun if u were here

aubrey

aww poor baby

I have smth that might cheer u up?

ollie

what??

aubrey

im directing a music video for a week in london...

ollie

WHENN HDI

aubrey

😭 mid July? u have a two week break then right

ollie

HIWHFEJOJFE I stopped breathing I have an idea

aubrey

OLLIE WTH WHAT

ollie

WHAT IF WE DID A EUROPE TRIP

aubrey

this might be ur greatest idea yet

ollie

no actually tho

you finish up in London and we can backpack through a few countries

aubrey

WAIT YES LETS BRING A FEW FRIENDS TOO

ollie

oh

okay yeah sure :)

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 confused because she sends me "xx" calls me baby but when I suggested a trip with her she asked if we should bring friends. Be honest is it over for me 🫠

liked by kimi_possible, landoakabob and 14 others

landoakabob yes.

-- leosdad NO. it is not over bring another couple (me and Alex) and it'll still be romantic

kimi_possible that picture and the quotes💀

-- bearyfast_04 how I feel fr

chililos55 still waiting for someone to fill me in

arthuranddw GET UR ACT TOGETHER (what was the context of the baby calling)

-- bearyfast_04 "poor baby"

-- arthuranddw ur cooked

-- leosdad Arthur now hes crying 😤

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang 🇺🇸

tagged: oliviarodrigo

liked by olliebearman, iamcharliebushnell and 559,907 others

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walker.scobell pls tell me u fell out of the window

-- aubreyyang shouldn't u be at school

-- walker.scobell shouldn't u be w ur man

this comment was removed

-- user1 WE SAW THAT SCREENSHOTTED TOO

-- user2 PLS SAY SIKE im traumatized from mace

this comment was liked by dior.n.goodjohn

oliviarodrigo 🤭

-- aubreyyang love u Livy!!

olliebearmanfanpage2 pls can we get her to another race I have aubrey content withdrawals

this comment was liked by olliebearman

-- user3 AYOO they're shameless now they have to be together

f1wagsupdates posted

f1wagsupdates In recent episode of Grill the Grid, Ollie Bearman was asked what his favourite movie was and his reply was "Station 13. I watched that movie so many times when it came out" and later on when asked who his celebrity crush was as a child, he answered with the star of the aforementioned movie, Aubrey Yang. The two have been linked together more than once...all we can say is that we would love to have Yang as a wag.

liked by olliebearhearts, aubreyxloves and 17,031 others

aubreyxloves Ollie Bearman I was unfamiliar with ur game 😳

user1 he's having his tom holland moment AND IM MANIFESTING IT TOO PLSS THEYRE SO CUTE

-- olliexaubes RIGHT the way he was blushing afterwards they're so bbg coded 🤭

user2 oh to be Aubrey yang with her oscar, multiple nominations as an actress and director and a Ferrari f1 driver in love w her 😞

-- user1 low-key I dunno if I want to be her or be w her

-- aubreyyann REALL

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[cheollipop]

*swims across the ocean and shows up at your door with my lobster plushie (larry) in my arms* hiii my nora i love youuu and i’m so excited for the sleepover ahh >< ALSO I HAD THIS IDEA RIGHT …. soo … gamer boyfriend woo – he loves to play LoL in the late night hours and he’s been ignoring you and you’re just sooo needy for him that you crawl into his lap and rub yourself against this thigh to try to get his attention and bc he sucks ass at the game he’s mad and hard but stubborn so he’s like, “if you want my cock so bad then you can keep it warm for me, can’t you, baby?” so you cockwarm him until you can’t help but move your hips and he can’t resist your pussy so he just fucks you into next week <333 ahem … so… what should we do? make some hot cocoa and have a pillow fight? :3 💕

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

my alyssa ily too!! <3<3 gamer bf woo...... cockwarming...... frustrated woo...... *head in hands* good god. I fr had to do research for this bc I don't play league, but wanted to include some of the gameplay between paragraphs of reader being needy ^^ also went a little crazy towards the end so enjoy the filth ig. hope you like this, happy reading!!~

pairing: gamer bf!jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.0k

tags: smut, dry/thigh humping, some teasing, cockwarming, mean/frustrated woo, he may or may not switch up a little tho ^^, reader is so needy (not projecting whatsoever), creampie kink, terrible description of league gameplay oopsie

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Wooyoung’s character remained perched by the fountain, mainly because the opposing team had formed a camp around his own’s spawn point, taking them down before they got the chance to make their way out. He tried to convince himself it was just that, and that the heavy drag of your clothed cunt over his thigh had nothing to do with the drowned out, fuming screams blasting into his eardrums, the idle stares at his screen while his character repeatedly respawned, the nth time the ‘defeat’ screen flashed before him.

“Woo, please,” he saw your lips move in his peripheral, one side of his headset moved off his ear to catch the faint whine leaving your lips as you used his thigh to get off. “You’ve been playing for so long….. ‘want you so bad.”

He didn’t reply, but the arms reaching past you to punch at the keycaps tightened around your waist, his muscles flexing under your moving figure. It’s only when his screen turned red once more that his attention shifted to you, your grinding faltering when fierce, lidded eyes fixed on yours. He remained quiet, the silence stretching until you shifted on his lap, a groan echoing in the space between you when the heat of your wet cunt engulfed the throbbing bulge in his sweatpants, your arousal seeping through your ruined panties to stain the grey material. His fingers floated above your hips, refusing to hand the control over to you, yet battling the need to touch you as you rolled your hips over his weeping cock.

“C’mon, Woo, I've been good-”

“Good?” His eyebrow raised, he gazed at you in disbelief. “Is that what you call humping my thigh like a needy slut while my friends listen to your pathetic whining?”

Wooyoung watched you panic, turn your head around in search for the crossed out mic, your shoulders slumping in relief once you realised that had muted himself the second you’d walked through the doorway, the familiar glint in your eyes enough to inform him of your intentions.

Twisting your head to face him again, you stutter over your words while he stares back at you with burning irises, “no, Woo, I-”

“if you’re such a good girl, then why don’t you warm my cock while I win the next match for my friends, hm?”

And you did, scrambling to pull the elastic waistband down to free his pulsing length, the tip glistening with precum, lowering your head to allow a line of drool to lube up the rest of it, unaware of the hooded eyes following the trail of saliva then the hand spreading it over his cock. Adjusting his headset to properly cover both ears, the infuriated scolding blaring through the speakers masking the grunt leaving his lips when you split yourself open on his girth, taking every last inch between your walls.

Wooyoung waited until you found a comfortable position, a hand on your lower back urging you closer to his chest until your arms circled his waist and head rested on his shoulder. You heard his keyboard clacking behind you, followed by the rasp of his voice in your ear,

“Was AFK, sorry. What did I miss?”

More screaming. Screaming you drowned out as soon as it started—the overlapping voices and aggressive mouse clicking fading the more you take in Wooyoung’s warmth, his cock nestled deep within your fluttering cunt, inhaling the pungent musk emanating off his honey skin. His thighs flexed under you. He wasn’t unaffected by your tight heat, that much was obvious. He was just being stubborn.

You rolled your hips experimentally, the edge of your panties dragging over the side of his cock where you had them pushed to the side, the fingers resting over the expensive keyboard flying to your hip, Wooyoung’s neck craning to shoot a disapproving glance your way. Shifting his attention back to the game, you moved again, clenching around him and smiling to yourself when a broken moan left his parted lips.

Wooyoung wasn’t sure where his irritation stemmed from—was it his continuous losses, the fact that he was absolutely terrible at the game and the only reason his team ever won is because Yunho carried every time, or was it because he needed you so bad, despite his wordless claims otherwise? Both, perhaps. But mostly the latter, he finally admitted, the small, incessant rolls of your hips paired with heated lips pressing kisses to his pulse point breaking his long-lasting composure.

“Something came up, got to go,” he blurted out, hurriedly dropping his headset over his desk before standing up with you in his arms.

Hastily grabbing onto his shoulders, you studied his expression while he held you—features relaxed, a semblance of a smile on his lips, it seemed as though his previous exasperation had dispersed without warning, eyes now filled with nothing but adoration. He mooned over your dazed features, clouded by unbearable lust as you continue to grind on him despite your position, sending gentle waves of pleasure up his spine and aggravating his need to stuff you full of his cum. Until you’re fucked-out and leaking, mumbling repetitions of his name into the sheets, begging for a break while he pounds into your overstimulated cunt.

He laid you down onto the mattress, a hand on your spine to soften your descent, contrary to the replaying images of how he planned to take you, to fuck you senseless, to watch your pussy spit his load out only to finger it back into your womb.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” he ran his hands up the sides of your body, pressing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck as he spoke. “You’ve been so good, haven’t you? ‘Been such a needy slut for Youngie,” slipping his cock out, he swiftly discarded of your panties and fitted himself back inside your heat, fingers pushing up the material of your shirt to grab handfuls of your tits. “Let me make it up to you, ‘wanna give you all my love.”

[sapphichotmess]

All I Do Is Dream of You

Ellie Williams x plus size!f!reader (not really specified, but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song All I Do Is Dream of You

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

continuation of this

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), fluff, reader wears makeup, reader is able-bodied, reader is right-handed

PLS COMMENT & RB FOR ME PLS

thanks for reading this for me babe @les4elliewilliams u deserve to be fucked so good <3

It has been several days since you were literally knocked off of your feet by one Ellie Williams. And every day since then has been better than the last. You two have been texting non-stop, giddily giggling into your phones with warm cheeks at all hours of the day. 

All it took was one meeting, and you were utterly captivated by the adorably dog-like auburn-haired woman, her presence—even if only by phone—filling your heart with a warmth you couldn't explain. 

You can’t get the woman out of your head, always seeing her pale green eyes piercing into you when you close yours. And don’t get you started on her adorable smile, her lips quirking up and parting, showcasing a slight bit of white teeth. You groan, staring into the mirror on your desk, right hand holding eyeliner up though doing nothing to put any on. All you can think of is the way her cheeks flushed adorably, highlighting the smattering of freckles on her face. You want to trace them—learn the pattern to a T. Learn everything about her, really. 

Your daydreaming is disrupted by the buzzing of your phone which is sat face-down on your bedspread, music blaring from it’s tiny-but-mighty speakers. You drop the eyeliner you were using to make the wing on your eye, drawing a black line down your cheek in your haste. Socked feet making gentle thudding on the hardwood floor, you reach your bed in record time. With your heart racing, you swiftly pick up your phone and flip it over to see the notification. It's another message from Ellie; the sight of her name sends a wave of excitement through you, your heart dropping from your chest out of your ass and a warm flush tickling your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you open the message, eager to see what she has to say. 

Ellie's message pops up on your screen, and you can't help but grin as you read her words:

heyyy you! just wanted to say hi and see how your day is going. i've been thinking about you bunches today. craving one of those bomb cupcakes you whip up... you know, those red ones with the fucking insane frosting? the one i had the other day?

Not bothering to wait more than a few seconds, you quickly type out a response, unable to hide your own excitement:

hi ellie! literally made my day hearing from you fr ❤️ 

you send one text, instantly starting on another:

oh, the red velvet ones? i won’t be making those in the shop for a bit… BUT i can totally open the bakery on an off day and make a batch for you?

Happy with your words, you go to sit down your phone again, butterflies swooping around aggressively in your stomach, but before you do, it’s vibrating in your hand. 

It was Ellie reacting to your first message with a heart. She must have been waiting for your reply—or you were being a horrible loser and texting back too fast. Shaking your head at that thought, you watch as the texting bubble appears, heart racing as you wait for her reply. 

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of Ellie's response. Was she as eager to continue the conversation as you were? Or perhaps she had something else in mind? With bated breath, you wait for her message to come through, the seconds feeling like an eternity as your mind races with all the possibilities of what she might say. The anticipation only adds to the butterflies swirling in your stomach, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Finally, Ellie's response comes through, and you eagerly read her message:

DUDE, no way! opening the bakery just for us? that's fucking awesome! i'm so down to hang out with you, especially if it means i get to devour those bomb-ass cupcakes. hit me up whenever you're free!

A grin spreads across your face as you read her words, your heart soaring with happiness. It seems Ellie is just as excited about the idea as you are, and the thought of spending time together fills you with warmth. It would be the first time you guys would meet face-to-face since your first encounter. 

Fuck you couldn't wait to bask in the magnificence of her; her being in your space, filling her lungs with the very same air you breathe. 

You are in trouble if these thoughts are an indication of anything. 

Quickly typing out your reply, you suggest a few possible dates and times for your cupcake date, hoping that one of them will work for both of you. Positively beaming, eyes glimmering with youthful mirth, you finally set down your phone and turn on your sock-clad heels to head back toward your vanity. You make it halfway before you remember what day it is.

The bakery is closed. 

You could see Ellie today. 

Then, you’re slipping against the hardwood, trying to get back to the bed as quick as possible. You finally get your footing after sliding around and almost ending up on your ass, practically flying toward your bed and divebombing onto the soft mattress. Your phone bounces with the impact as you scramble to get to your knees and grab it from mid-air. Somehow, you end up on your back with your phone smashed onto your nose. 

Ouch. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

You grab your phone, scrubbing a hand at your sore nose. After the shock of the hit has left, you regain your urgentness, unlocking your phone, bringing up the messages app, and clicking on your and Ellie’s chat. 

Your fingers move at what seems like the speed of light as you type out a new message: 

so, um, funny thing... i was thinking, and why wait for your cupcakes when you could have them today? how about you swing by the bakery this afternoon?

Thinking for a second, you quickly send a second text:

we can even bake them together! how does that sound?

Nausea creeps up on you as you wait, heart racing and dry eyes staring at your messages to Ellie for several minutes without a text bubble. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a bubble appears on the screen, only to disappear just as quickly. This pattern repeats a few times, leaving you on edge.

But then, finally, Ellie's response lights up your screen:

i'm so down for a baking session at the bakery. what time should i be there? 

A wave of relief washes over you as you read Ellie's enthusiastic reply—though you are confused as to why it took her so long to come up with this response. With a wide grin, you quickly type back the details, feeling excitement building in the pit of your stomach. 

Finally having that done, you put your phone back on the bed—hopefully for the last time for a while. Then, you finally sit back down at your vanity, ready to finish your makeup for the day. When you look in the mirror, your smile falters and your mouth hangs open in disbelief. 

There is a long, thick black line running across your cheek. 

“Fuck.” 

***

You’re just setting up everything you need for red velvet cupcakes when you hear the front doorbell ring. Your head snaps up so fast you’re surprised you don’t break your neck. However, any pain is worth seeing Ellie walk into your bakery looking so damn fine. 

The olive-skinned girl is wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit her ass nicely, a grey t-shirt, and a burnt-red flannel that looks well-loved with tearing seams and fading colors. Her shoulder-length auburn hair is pulled into a half-up, half-down look, with some stray hairs framing her face. Your hands itch to push them behind her ears, even standing at the distance you are. 

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you set the pan you had in your hands onto the counter with a clatter, causing Ellie to start. Making your way towards the front of the store where Ellie stands with hands in her pockets, you call out her name.  

"Ellie!" You greet her with a wide grin, unable to contain your excitement at seeing her—even if it was planned just short of an hour ago. 

“Ah, uh… Hey!” the freckled girl stutters out. “I… it’s good to see you?” 

“Was that a question?” you ask, hiding your smile behind your hand. 

“Uh, no?” Ellie says before realizing that she phrased her response as a question, too. “I mean, no. No, it wasn’t a question. I, um, I am excited to see you.” 

You can't help but find Ellie's nervousness adorable as she stumbles over her words. Suppressing a giggle, you offer her a reassuring smile, eyes crinkling on the edges. "Well, I'm excited to see you too," you reply warmly, noting the faint blush creeping up on her cheeks.

As Ellie's gaze drifts somewhere behind you and she nervously swipes her hand over her nose, you realize just how nervous she must be feeling. Wanting to ease her discomfort, you gently reach out and place a hand on her arm—holy shit, you didn’t realize she was strong, but you can feel her muscles under her flannel. "Hey, it's okay. No need to be nervous," you say softly, trying to ignore your thoughts about what she could do with that strength. "We're just here to have fun and bake some delicious cupcakes together."

Ellie’s green eyes finally meet yours again, though a crease forms between her eyebrows as she does. “I just, ah… you’re, like, stupidly pretty. And, you know, it’s really distracting.” Ellie's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she confesses, her final words coming out in a rush.

Your heart skips a beat at Ellie's unexpected compliment, and a warm flush of pleasure spreads through you. "Wow, thank you," you reply. "You're not so bad yourself, you know."

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise at your compliment, her right hand coming back up to shuffle across her nose. “Ah, thank you?” 

Giggling at her utter lack of words or charm, you grab her hand as it falls from in front of her face. “C’mon! We have so much to do. I’m so excited to teach you how to bake!” you say in a high-pitched voice, obviously excited. 

Pulling her by the—fucking giant—hand to the back of the bakery where you do all the… well, baking, you continue, “I’m almost done setting up everything for us. There are a few ingredients I have to pull out since I wasn’t gonna be using them, but it shouldn’t be too long until we can start.” 

“I—oh,” Ellie lets out a strangled breath as she is suddenly dragged by you into the back room. “That’s okay. I’m just, uh, really excited for the cupcakes.” 

As you lead Ellie towards the back of the bakery, you can't help but chuckle at her adorable awkwardness. "Don't worry, I promise it'll be fun," you reassure her, looking behind you with a warm smile. "And don't worry about being nervous. Baking is all about having a good time and enjoying the process."

Ellie nods once, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be great," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Reaching the back room, you release Ellie's hand and gesture towards the kitchen area. "Here we are," you say, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the chairs you pulled back here from the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable while I grab the rest of the ingredients."

As you rummage through the cabinets and pull out the remaining ingredients needed for the cupcakes, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of teaching Ellie how to bake. Getting to spend any time with the adorably awkward, puppy-like freckle-faced girl was a blessing, but getting to do your favorite thing with her? It’s a dream come true. 

Returning to the counter with an armful of ingredients, you grin at Ellie. "Alright, let's get started," you say eagerly. “First up, we have to… turn on the oven,” you stumble in the middle of your sentence as you get lost looking at Ellie’s tanned face, trying to memorize the placement of her paint-splattered freckles so that you could imagine her going do—that isn’t what today is about.

Ellie nods once, standing to her feet. “Sounds easy enough.” 

As Ellie stands up, hands on her knees to help her get up, you can't help but admire the way her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as she looks at you. Holy shit, she’s looking at you. "Great!" you exclaim, shaking off your momentary distraction—for the hundredth time—and focusing on the task at hand. "Let's get this show on the road."

Together, you and the freckle-faced girl move towards the oven, your hands brushing against each other as you reach for the knob. Heat crawling up your neck and over the apples of your cheeks, you quickly move your hand and turn the knob to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, the soft hum of the oven heating up filling the air.

Still hot in the face, you turn toward Ellie, "Okay, next step, cupcake pans," you say, gesturing toward the neatly lined trays on the counter. With Ellie by your side, arms brushing, you grab the pans and place them on the counter, ready to put the liners in. 

As you work, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring her focused expression as she carefully places each cupcake liner in its designated spot like it’s some kind of science experiment that could go wrong. Her tongue slightly sticking out of her plump lips in concentration is definitely cuter than it should be. 

What you weren’t ready for was to have the auburn-haired girl turn her head and look at you as you distractedly stared at her, unable to shake the image of her soft, freckled cheeks, long, slender fingers, and strong arms from your mind. 

Caught off guard by Ellie's piercing green gaze, you feel your heart skip a beat as you quickly avert your eyes. Clearing your throat, you focus on the task at hand, determined to maintain composure.

"Um, so, uh, yeah," you stammer, trying to regain your train of thought. "Looks like we're all set with the cupcake pans." You can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you turn back to the task, hoping to distract yourself from the intensity of Ellie's gaze.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the extra cupcake liners, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully place them back in a stack, ready for you to put away later. 

When you're done—and your hands aren’t shaking anymore—you finally drag your gaze back to Ellie. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she is still looking at you. Her green gaze—what you can only describe as a moss-covered forest bathed in warm, sparkling sunlight—feels like taking a knife to the heart, her head tilt—so dog-like—a sucker punch to the gut. You want her eyes on you forever—to bask in the warmth of her eyes and bathe in the depths of her soul—you realize as your heart tries to beat out of your chest. 

Somehow, you find it within yourself to tear your eyes away from Ellie’s; it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, and you run a bakery by yourself. Clearing your throat and staring at the prepped pans, you say, “Ah, um, we can start making the batter now, I guess.” 

Ellie doesn’t hold in her laugh at your obvious discomfort, her melodic laughter filling the room with a warmth that soothes your frayed nerves. Despite the embarrassment of being caught in a moment of vulnerability, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sound of her laughter.

"Yeah, let's get started on that batter," Ellie says, her voice laced with amusement as she reaches for the ingredients on the counter. “What do we start with, pretty girl?”

“I–uh, holy shit…”

The freckled girl laughs even harder at your stunned expression, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised. “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” she says, lips quirked up as she nudges your chin with her hand. 

Her hand on you gets your mind racing in all different directions before you remember where you are. Snapping your gaping mouth shut, teeth clacking together, you gather yourself. “Uh yeah… we have to, ah… start with the dry ingredients.” 

Ellie hums a “Mhmm” out, mouth still curved in a cocky smile as she tilts her head again—her stupidly pretty auburn hair catching the midday light filtering in from the window—leaning her hip against the counter. 

“We have to shift the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and baking soda together into… this large bowl.” you point at every ingredient when you name them, picking up the stainless steel bowl when you find it.

“Sounds easy enough.” 

This time, it’s you who hums an answer as you put the bowl down and grab the ingredients to start measuring. “If I measure, would you shift, Ellie?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” she gives you a little salute. 

So, as you hand over every measured dry ingredient, Ellie shifts it into the bowl. Her tongue makes another appearance as she focuses on getting every ingredient into the bowl with no spillage, causing you to overfill the ¼ teaspoon of baking soda. You quickly get the right amount into the teaspoon and clean up your mess, wiping your hands on your apron. 

“Okay, now that’s done, we have to add the salt and whisk everything together.” 

Ellie reaches for the salt, adding it to the bowl as you grab the whisk. She slides the bowl over to you, watching intently as you whisk. It’s one of the most mundane, boring parts of the baking process, yet she looks so entranced by the whisk circling the bowl, mixing the ingredients together. 

Once everything is thoroughly mixed, you tap the whisk on the bowl and set it aside, putting your hands on your hips and turning towards the girl leaning casually on your counter. “Can I trust you with a knife?” 

“Wh–I–Yes!” She splutters, eyebrows raised. 

Giggling quietly to yourself, hand over your mouth, you shake your head. Dropping your hand, you say, “Sorry, I just had to ask. I need you to cut the butter if you could, please.”

“How could I say no to those puppy dog eyes, hmm?” 

This time, it’s you who splutters, caught off guard. Instead of deigning the tease with a response, you turn your back to Ellie, hiding your burning face and grabbing the stand mixer you equipped with a paddle attachment. When that’s set up, and you can feel the burning embarrassment leave your face, you turn to Ellie, who is wielding a knife, cutting the room-temperature butter into uneven pieces. 

“Babe, it’s gotta be more uniform than that.”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyebrows furrowed, pupils blown wide, and knife almost cutting into her fingers. “Wh–what did you just call me?”

Caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to come up with a plausible explanation. The air feels thick with tension, every second stretching out into an eternity as you search for the right words to say. You hadn’t even realized you said it; it came so naturally, calling the auburn-haired girl babe. “I… nothing, nothing at all,” you spit out quickly, eyes going wide. 

“Nah-uh, you called me ‘babe.’” A loud clattering sound makes you startle, your eyes moving from Ellie’s piercing greens to the knife that just hit the countertop. 

"I… I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It just… slipped out."

Ellie's gaze remains fixed on you, you can feel it like a weight on your skin, pinning you in place as you struggle to regain your composure.

“Look at me,” she demands. You follow her directions immediately, your gaze taking in her expression. She looked almost dazed with a quizzical brow as she scratched her head.

"I'm sorry," you continue, your words tumbling out in a rush. "It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

For a moment, the silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing. And then, without warning, Ellie's features soften, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," she says softly, her voice like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. 

As Ellie's soft smile spreads across her face, her pearly whites making an appearance, a sense of relief washes over you like a warm embrace. Your shoulders drop from where they had taken a place beside your ears, and tension leaks out of you like butter in a baking croissant. The weight that had been pressing down on you lifted away like a heavy fog dispersing in the morning sun.

"Thanks," you murmur, gratitude lacing your words as you meet Ellie's gaze once more. Her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart flutter, a silent reassurance that everything is okay between you.

With a playful glint in her eye, Ellie leans closer, her voice a soft whisper falling from her plump lips that sends shivers down your spine. "You know," she says, her tone teasing, "I don't mind being called babe."

Your heart skips a beat at her words.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Ellie's presence. "Good to know," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll try to remember that for next time."

As the last of the tension melts away like butter as it’s baked into the delicious treats you make, you and Ellie dive into the joyful task of baking red velvet cupcakes together. With each step of the recipe, you find yourselves falling into a comfortable rhythm, working seamlessly together as if you've been doing this for years.

The scent of cocoa and vanilla fills the air as you and Ellie chat and laugh, exchanging stories and getting to know each other on a deeper level. From childhood memories to dreams for the future, you two open your hearts and minds to each other. 

As the cupcakes bake in the oven, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring the way her eyes light up when she talks about her passions and the infectious laughter that bubbles up from within her. 

And when the cupcakes are finally cooled and ready, their red tops gleaming with perfection, you and Ellie decorate the cupcakes with swirls of cream cheese frosting and a sprinkle of red velvet crumbs together, playfully bumping shoulders and laughing at Ellie’s attempts at decorating. 

As you sit down to enjoy the fruits of your labor, savoring each bite of the moist, decadent cupcakes, you realize that this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship—and perhaps something more. 

[creatingblackcharacters]

You made a post earlier today replying to an ask, saying about how a lot of people don't see shades of brown as interesting/with depth, which obviously is sad because there's so many gorgeous shades of brown and epic things that are brown.

Anyways I've started compiling some lists of stuff that's brown and what some uses might be as far as writing descriptions; would you like to be tagged if I make a post, since I was inspired to dig deeper and got excited about my list because of your comment? Want to make sure you get credit if you want but aren't annoyed by it if you don't ♡

Also I know food words are kinda a "no" for describing skin tone for most people, are there any other things you think are best to steer clear/be more careful of? There's lots of really beautiful beetles for example that have lovely shimmery deep brown wings but idk if it'd be rude to describe a human character in a way similar to a bug. I'm an entomologist so obviously I see it as a compliment to have colors like a paper wasp or a beetle, but I want to make sure I'm not blinded by my own adoration of bugs 🪳

That would be lovely! Like I said, it's not the lack of words, it's just the mentality that they don't find brown beautiful. So don't be hurt initially when it seems like some people aren't grateful or are being dicks about it. I assure you, I will be 👍🏾

I hate that food is a no, fr. I find food colors beautiful! I think cinnamon, nutmeg, and peanut butter are lovely colors! It really is just how they get used. I personally think you should include them, but add a note that some people do not take well, and so mind how you're using the words. Show some variety, don't offer your white characters every type of white and then every Black person is a piece of food.

I think if you're going to compare to bugs, you gotta use that creativity you just used to talk about the beetle. 😅 But admittedly I would not be happy being told my eyes were brown like a paper wasp, no. I'd need that entomologist background. It'd be unique though! I'd love to read a story where that happened, just to see. But there are plenty of beautiful bugs too! All the butterflies!

Thank you for thinking of this, and for reaching out to me for credit- that was really nice of you.

[diorsluv]

feather , part 19

“ you act like a bitch ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

missseraphina

liked by lhughes_06 and 674 others

missseraphina not quite golden hour but you make it feel like it anyway 🌅

view all comments

username16 i’m gagging.

username47 fuck no lmaooo

username3 so cringe

username92 luke isn’t even commenting he’s only liking her posts 😭😭

→ username96 i knowww like this has got to be the most embarrassing thing i’ve ever seen

username77 miss girl is trying way too hard

username30 ignore the haters babe!

liked by missseraphina

username25 i honestly would off myself

username81 god please tell me this is all just a bad dream

username20 this is my 13th fucking reason. i need my dryshughes crumbs rn

yourusername super cute! golden hour is any hour when you’re with the one you love 🥰

→ missseraphina thanks i guess? lmao and yeah maybe that’s why he always tells me i’m glowing

username1 don’t fucking tell me she just implied that luke loves her in lil drizzy’s replies

username6 there’s no way luke didn’t comment but his ex girl did

→ username49 lmfaooo i don’t think she’s his ex

→ username37 at this point she might as well be

username42 stopp this is so adorable

username21 so happy for u!!

username69 someone gouge my eyes out i’m begging

lhughes_06

liked by jackhughes, markestapa, yourusername, and 77,298 others

lhughes_06 throwback time? 🫣

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

trevorzegras kid u make me laugh LMAOOO

→ lhughes_06 glad i could be of service

→ _alexturcotte fr this is too funny

→ colecaufield who needs netflix when you have luke

username56 I CANTTT they all see it as a joke

→ username84 it is a joke bro 💀 like luke’s just fucking around w mississippi

yourusername were u just keeping these photos locked up for months 🙄🙄

→ lhughes_06 i mean they’re not even that old tbh

→ yourusername aw just wanted an excuse to post me huh?

→ lhughes_06 dont even need an excuse

username61 DRYSHUGHES IS MAKING A COMEBACK

→ username4 I AM GOBBLING THE DRYSHUGHES CRUMBS UPP

username73 i just bet my friend $30 they get together by the end of the hockey season

→ username50 ur investing a lot into a relationship that doesn’t even exist yet

→ username73 key word: yet

missseraphina oh but the retro days have been over, no need for a throwback 😁

dylanduke25 i vividly remember you got us kicked out of the restaurant as soon as you threw her over your shoulder

→ lhughes_06 no you got us kicked out bc u squirted ketchup all over mackie

→ mackie.samo you stained my favorite white shirt and i’m still waiting for you to replace it 😒

→ yourusername that was your doing dyl don’t even

→ markestapa i thought it was because eddy kept screaming

→ edwards.73 BECAUSE DUKER WAS HARASSING ME

→ dylanduke25 🙁🙁

_alexturcotte i left you on the curb for a minute so i could heat up the car and i came back to you snuggling

→ lhughes_06 we were tired

→ yourusername WE WERE NOT SNUGGLING

→ jackhughes i mean you did look pretty cozy

→ lhughes_06 i was pretty cozy

username75 luke’s just stirring it up and i’m here for it

→ username21 fr cuz that other girl was bein a bitch to MY girl 🙄

username98 lmfaooo mississauga doesn’t even realize he dont gaf abt her

next chapter notes ) mississippi be doin too much frfr, but its okay bc luke dont even want her 🥱

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader (they are wearing a dress and lace panties however), unprotected sex / no prep (it's not rought), semi public sex, 18+ | ✮ wc ; 1.4k (?) idek

✮ a/n ; happy late birthday barou. this is crazy horny my bad fr.

Barou is an uptight person.

He doesn't think of himself that way, fucking obviously. But he's been told multiple times throughout his life that that's how he seems. From his teammates to his little sisters to every single media outlet desperately hoping he has more interesting gossip than a change in the babywipe brands he uses.

But Barou is a straight-forward, straight-laced sort of man. He tries to not come home late, keeps all of his promises, and always makes sure he reverses his car when he parks. He doesn't believe in the pull-out method. He always makes sure any physical intimacy he has with anyone comes after they've both been tested.

He's got a life on the line and there's nothing wrong with being careful. Barou is stiff sure, but he's respectful and tidy and takes care of everything because that's how he was raised.

Barou is so terribly uptight. It is, by all means, completely out of character for him to fucking you in the stall of a high-end restaurant bathroom.

Despite himself, and his best interests, and his general good character - he has your cheek pressed into the stall of the bathroom door and two hands on your hips. The tip of his cock is resting against the curve of your ass, pretty lace set underneath the skirt of your dress. You're in the bathroom of somewhere so upscale with your pussy soaking wet.

And Barou is hard out of his fucking mind. It's been like this all-day. From the minute his morning started, you've done nothing but spoil him. A spotless house (cleaned in the way he like), plenty of food, a planned visit to his parents house and a quiet birthday dinner to end the night. All packaged neatly in the warmth of your smile, an eagerness to show off your affection.

He doesn't care to know if you were meaning to seduce him but you did. He spent most of the day half-stiff, sneaking touches in the car and keeping himself at bay with lingering glances.

The gift at the dinner table did it. A thoughtful gift, a leather wallet - practical but not expensive. That set him off, ruined the rest of his remaining patience. He's not verbal enough to confess his undying love to you.

He can, however, please you. He's good at that, and this way - both of you come out of it feeling better. He's uptight but he's tipped the wait staff enough to make sure everyone keeps quiet about being in the bathroom.

And he's strict about the certain policies he enforces.

But you look good with that dress on, the soft curves of your neckline and the slight shake in your thighs when you bend over. Damp, dark material soiled over your pussy - all trembling even though he hasn't done more than kiss and grope you.

It's unusual how much he wants to fuck you. It's a little unbelievable how badly he wants it. He rubs the tip against you, lets it dig between the thin lace - feels how soft and sticky you are without him even touching you. He leans forward a little, picks you up your hips and pulls you in such a way you're grinding on it without actually moving.

He forgets he's this much stronger than you. You yield easily enough, an open-mouth moan leaving your lips. Barou feels a spike of heat run through him, sharp as blood rushes towards his cock so quick he's lightheaded.

"Ridiculous," He rasps, almost exasperated at how deep he's thinking about fucking you "What do you get out of being so good to me?"

"Don't want a-anything," He nudges the tip into your clit just to make you stumble "I just want you to have a good time. Did you?"

Of course he did. How could he not? He doesn't reply, tugging the lace of your panties to one side with a laugh that might sound harsh if you aren't listening close enough.

"I had a good time baby. It was fucking great actual," He says, and it's well-intended. His throat is so thick it almost feels sore. He doesn't remember the last time he was this desperate to fuck you - if he's ever felt this antagonized by your kindness. A good, sweet lover you are.

Gentle reprieve for the ever uptight, ever high-strung Barou. A man of action, of course he wants to fuck you about it. The skin to skin makes his grip on your thighs tighten, he can feel his nails digging into the flesh. The indentations must ache but you don't complain. He'll kiss it better later. Eventually.

Silky and dripping , such a perfect place to drill his cock into. Like it was made for him to be in. Carve a spot for himself out of you with the heavy steel of his shaft. You're so fucking perfect for him. His perfect, sweet angel.

You deserve to be fucked with this much effort at least. Barou wants to stretch you, so he does. He pushes the tip in slowly, reaches his hands out of your tits and squeezes hard. He licks up the side of your neck, kissing your jaw.

"Relax," He offers, as tender as he can be right now "Unless you wanna be sore on the way home."

How ironic he's telling you to relax. If he doesn't pour every ounce of his concentration into stilling - he'd fuck himself into without thinking twice. Fill you the brim, brush your womb and stay there until it remembers who he is. He wants it so bad it almost makes him sick, but he's being stingy enough skipping on more foreplay.

A man of good character doesn't fuck his lover in a shitty bathroom stall. But maybe Barou is learning to relax, because all he can think about is how the acoustics in this tight space do you no favors. He can hears just how soaked you are, can hear every short pant of need - ragged from desire in the walls. How it cumulates in the air until it's too hard to breathe.

You do relax, and Barou rocks his hips slow. You cry out. He laughs, just a little. The adrenaline never stops being addicting.

"Ya like that? Like how that fucking feels? How my," Deeper, another inch pushed into the heat of you "How my cock feels all the way in here?" He presses his palm into the place underneath your tummy.

"Ungh, uh-huh, yes."

He drops his head on your back and shudders. He's going to lose his fucking mind if he isn't more careful. Deeper and harder and faster, you move in tandem until he bottoms out. Barou can feel your ass and hips on his waist and how much they're fucking trembling. He hasn't even fucked you yet, hasn't moved an inch and you're shaking.

It's so cute he could cum right away. How adorable. You're so bubbly and bright and don't think twice about talking back to him when he's being fussy - but you can't keep it together long enough to hold yourself up over his cock. He doesn't know if he could love you anymore.

"Gonna move." He tells, and you nod. Barou starts shallow so you can adjust, but when there's no longer any resistance - he doesn't hesitate in giving it all to you. Every inch of his cock, over and over with an unruly amount of want.

Barou fucks into you hard enough to set motion. It's noisy. The sound of skin hitting skin, of your pussy being stretched over and over - his belt clacking from where it's tucked underneath his cock to give him room. Over all of that is the sound of your voice echoing, soft little whimpers that turn into full-blown cries as he fucks you deeper and deeper - knocking himself into your g-spot so much it's cruel.

He can feel your insides spasm around him before you have a chance to warn him. Tremors in short waves until your hand shoots up to the door - grabbing for something that's not there.

"Shoei," You warn, pitchy and desperate and hot "I'm g-gonna,"

"Cum on my fucking cock," He spits. He needs it more than you do "I'll let you make a mess this time."

Barou watches you fold beneath him. Your form collapses forward and he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you up. Your walls tighten and convulse around, milking him for all he's worth. He pushes himself to the hilt before following after you, cumming deep inside with a short groan as he presses a kiss t your shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Shoei." You mumble, turning your head to look at him with your face all messy. He chuckles.

"Yeah, happy birthday to me."

[fang-and-feather]

Without Words

Ikemen Prince - Chevalier & Daughter - Modern Fantasy AU

Words: 568

Summary: For the longest time, Chevalier wasn't sure he would make fr a good father, but he and his daughter had built a surprising bond, in their own way.

Written for the Chevalier's Sequel Release event by @aquagirl1978, prompts Love and Family

This was not what I expected to write, and I might write the intended story later, but I like the idea that prompted this change, although the execution is not as I expected...

IkePri Masterlist / General Masterlist / Read on AO3

Chevalier smiled to himself as he heard the hurried footsteps growing louder as they approached the door, and the voices calling after its owner.

He chuckled as the little girl struggled with the handle, before finally opening the door and peeking inside.

He motioned for her to come inside and his daughter smiled, almost bouncing inside.

She looked up at him with bright, questioning eyes, but looked away bashfully as Chevalier turned his full attention to her.

She certainly came to show him her costume for the party.

The dress looked like one of the pixies from a cartoon she liked. A fluffy looking white dress, with light tones of yellow, orange and pink, especially on the embroidered flowers.

But it wasn’t as perfectly accurate as a costume. Instead of the puffy sleeves ending in a band, they had been made into something shorter and more loose, and the length of the skirt had been shortened, ending a little above her ankles instead of nearly covering her shoes.

Chevalier was sure that was Yves’ handwork, because the changes seemed like they were made for the girl’s comfort.

He smiled at his daughter, before standing up and moving to sit on his bed instead, patting it to call her over.

She ran to him, struggling to climb on with her dress, until he helped her up. With her sitting between his legs, he reached for a comb on the nightstand, freeing her blond locks from the messy ponytail and starting to comb her hair.

Chevalier never expected to get good at this. For it to become his job at all. But it had become a little ritual between father and daughter. It brought peace and happiness to both of them.

Chevalier braided her hair and picked a box from a drawer on the nightstand, finding a nice bow to tie it, and also a smaller case inside. He picked a few of the small magical seeds inside, sprinkling them in his daughter’s hair, and used his powers to make them bloom into small white flowers.

When he was done, Chevalier patted her head and his daughter turned to give him a sleepy smile, before slipping out if the bed and running to the vanity, looking back at him when she stood before it.

Shaking his head with a smile, Chevalier stood up and picked her up so she could look in the mirror. Her smile grew, and she hugged him tightly. Chevalier hugged her back until she tried to pull away. He placed a kiss on top of her head and put her down.

His daughter adjusted her dress, turned to him, and gave him a playful bow with a bright smile. He gave her a nod, and she chuckled silently before dashing out, likely to show off to her mother and probably everyone else.

Chevalier’s smile remained even after she left. He was surprised but content with the bond he had with his daughter. Even in silence, they understood each other and communicated their love with little gestures like that.

He was still in wonder that he, who wasn’t sure he had what was needed to be a good father, had developed such an emotional bond with his child that nobody would ever believe the brutal beast was capable of. Another great change that had come into his life, and just the beginning of the many to come.

Tag List: @2-lines-and-a-circle, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @nightghoul381, @eventinelysplayground, @bicayaya, @keithsandwich

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

Hope it tagged everyone properly this time...

[just-some-random-blogger]

I'm nervous about requesting this since I don't know if it's a good idea, but here goes: Reader goes camping for a weekend and decides to invite Dream to do typical camping activities (canoeing, swimming, hiking, etc) with them on one of those days. Can be pure fluff/slice of life (though I wouldn't mind a little bit of smut too).

Marshies

Dream of the Endless x Reader + Destruction of the Endless x Reader

Summary: "Pardon," Dream shakes his head, "how were you two acquainted again?" Destruction and you turn to each other as you bring your chocolate marshmallows closer to the open fire. In unison, you reply, "Didi."

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral reader, camp instructor!reader kinda, unbelievably mopey!dream, puppy!destruction, fluff, jealousy, bro vs bro?, typos, etc.

A/N: HELLO MY BABY LOVE FANGIRLMARY. I AM SO HAPPY YOU CAME TO MY INBOX I DO A DANCY DANCE. I LOVE YOUR URL UR DP AND YOUR REQ SO MUCH I GIVE YOU AN EXPRESS PASS. I havent had a req like this at all i think AHHAHAHA. It's so, how you say, simple and cute which is a great thing to start with for me. n ur like me fr cos i get nervous sending asks T_T so if you're still nervous lemme hold your hand. anyway, it kind of spiraled, and I felt like adding an endless sib so i did and I HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR DESTRUCTION OK 😫 i hope you don't mind huhuhuh and hope you like it my love <3 i think i've used this gif before but its too perfect for the fic not to reuse HAHHAAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

You were a rainstorm and Dream was a sponge, except he didn't know it. With every opportunity he had to be around you, he took you in until he was overcome with an uncomfortable heaviness. He was leaking with grimy emotions. And he was awfully spineless.

Matthew had been croaking from his shoulder, telling him he was a ridiculously wet sponge, and that he had to pull himself together and wring himself up because he was, frankly, disgusting.

That did not bode well for the bird. But this is not about that.

It's about how the lord of dreams did get thinking that. Perhaps, he should in fact act upon these weeping urges, for it was painful to be around you yet not have you.

It was unclear who was more shocked when you suddenly invited Dream for a weekend away, Matthew or Dream himself.

And so with the thickest, greasiest, smuggest smirk, Dream accepted the invitation. He made it known that he was graciously making room in his labor-filled schedule to accommodate your request, but accommodate your request he surely would do.

For the days building to that weekend away, Dream would study all the spectacles that involved camping. He would be camping with you and you would be camping with him; it will be lovely. He visited the dreams of those who enjoyed the leisure, and those who were objectively good at it, soaking in all the things he could learn, much like the sponge he was.

You can only imagine how shocked he was to find that the precious gift of the precious free time you, in your humanly nature, prized so much, was not even a gift to him at all, it seemed. For a gift was not typically shared, not meant to be shared, much less with some 20 other people.

"HEY DREAM!" you beamed, grinning ear to ear as you raised a hand and waved at him the moment you spotted him.

You promptly jogged over and huffed through your smile, "I'm so glad you decided to come! You'll like the people here, I promise."

Dream looks at you as a toddler busts a lung out crying. He cannot find himself to smile, though you do, for a corrosive jealousy was ripping through his stomach. You begin to explain that most of the people present were from the same circles as you,and that you did most of the planning for the weekend. You reiterate that it will be fun.

And yet as your expression softened and your brows raised while you assessed his form, he could not not smile at the sight of your doe eyes.

A dark cloud thunders above him.

He begs to disagree.

"You didn't bring any bags? Any equipment... at all?" you tilt your head.

Dream places his hands behind him, "I find no need for it. After all, anything you can posses comes from nature, does it not?"

You pull your head back and chuckle, "wow, okay, nature man," you grin, "I'm glad you at least dressed for the woods. I would have told you off if you kept your trench coat on."

Dream needlessly brushes off his tank top then places his hands in the pockets of his jogging pants, "I am capable of dressing cordially to the setting."

What he was incapable of doing though, was sharing. But you already knew that. At least he thought you did.

You introduce him to many people, he nods in regard but does no more. When someone calls for your help to set up some things, Dream immediately swoops in and makes sure that he would be the one to help you as you help.

"I must say," Dream starts as he lends you a hand whilst in building some tents, "I thought that today would be a more... intimate setting."

You turn to him as you poked a stick through the fabric, "it is. This is the smallest number of people I've hosted for a weekend at this site."

Dream's eye twitches, "but I had thought," he turns to you with a stern expression, "the invitation was exclusive to me."

To be honest, you were too preoccupied with setting up to notice how serious he was about it. The moment you caught the glint in his eye, your stomach dropped. Your lips part at the grave expression etched across his face. "Uhhhh," you clear your throat, "well, I mean, you're the only person I invited, if that counts for anything."

Dream sucks in a breath as he finishes doing his side of the tent. He walks over to you and helps you with your side. He does not look at you as his hands take yours but he knows in his bones that your eyes were on him. He also knows there was a heat blossoming in your cheeks.

He mutters, "I see," he spares you a moment's glance, "then I am glad."

That didn't last long though.

The next thing he knows, he's made to sit with a group of men, all somehow bearded, laughing over the 'good ol days' over some beer in between scolding the human spawn they had with them.

After that, he was doing yoga with some mothers that were giggling over embarrassing stories, and how good looking he was in between scolding the human spawn they had with them.

And then, well, he was holding a leash of dogs who were eager to run off but not allowed to because their masters where setting up, and so they ended up barking at the human spawn they had with them.

Then, like a true omen, he heard the laugh of the prodigal.

How did he know it The Prodigal? Well, considering the earth shook beneath his sneakers and the flock of birds fled from the trees, he was certain it was him.

Normally, he'd be glad to see his little brother, but when he saw his giant frame next to your smaller one, well, let's just say everyone who was in the middle of a nap at that moment woke up from a terrible nightmare.

"Brother," Dream interjects your giggling conversation.

Dream, needless to say, was salty to see your temperate exchange. He had gone above and beyond to socialize with the people in this camp, and yet here you were with the wrong Endless.

You and Destruction turn to him mid-catching your breath. All Dream could think about was how you had your palm on Destruction's bicep.

Was the temperature dropping?

Destruction perks. He raises his hands and steps forward, "brother!"

Dream is sealed into a tight embrace and is lifted off the ground in the process. His eyes are on you as you look between him and Destuction.

"You two are brothers?" you ask in surprise.

Destruction turns to you as he sets Dream down, "we are!" He slaps Dream's back, making his body flinch to the side. The older of the two grunts where the younger one smiles, "he's my big bro!"

"Oh!" you say with wide eyes. You tilt your head, "well then that explains the odd names."

Destruction gives a hearty laugh. Dream eyes him hotly.

Destruction sighs, "I'll know to call you if I ever did you get my brother to agree to come out somewhere."

Dream grunts.

You shake your head, "I'm equally surprised to see him here, honestly. Most of the time I'm not even sure if he enjoys being around me."

He turns to you upon hearing this.

"He's a tough nut," Destruction retorts, pulling his brother into a side hug, "but he's not hard to crack."

Before Dream can even respond, his brother rakes them both over to the lake, "now, how about we go canoeing!?"

Destruction couldn't have offered a more terrible idea.

The canoe boats were not suited to carry the Endless, much less two at once.

Destruction, ever the gentleman, did not hesitate to plunge ankle deep into the lake, only to ensure that you get into the boat safely. He held your hand as you stepped in, and Dream bristled as he watched.

When his brother turned to him, offering out a hand in order to do the same for Dream, the older of the two practically seethed in annoyance.

He turned his cheek and crossed his arms.

Destruction sighed, "oh, come now, Dream. The canoe awaits!"

Dream is adamant and stays put.

Destruction presses his lips into a line and decides to get in with you.

"Come on, Dream," you urge upon seeing his pettiness, "canoeing is fun! I promise."

One of the many promises you've made thus far.

Dream lets out a breath upon hearing your voice and the yelp-turned-giggle that you release as your tiny canoe rocks because of his massive brother.

Dream holds back an eyeroll as he watches you clutch onto Destruction, as not to rock the boat further. You giggle again, as does his brother.

"Very well," Dream says, walking over to you both.

It was futile however; every attempt in joining the already crowded canoe lead to only disaster.

It was clear Dream could not join in the canoeing, at least not in the same boat.

So the two of you rowed deeper into the lake, and Dream followed after in a separate canoe all by himself. A miserable predicament.

He could hear your soft voice, droning about all the nature facts you knew. It was audible, your excitement. He could not see you, not with his physical eyes at least, but he knew your face was lit up. It always did in moments like this. Destruction listens intently as you speak, though undoubtedly, he knew most of what you were talking about already, being a nature buff himself.

He reacted with excitement accordingly. He gasped, and laughed, and inquired further in all the right moments. He made your voice lift into further enthusiasm. He made it sound so easy. And perhaps it was to him.

Dream then rowed faster, so that, finally, your rides were side by side.

Destruction talked to you about the old sprites and spirits that used to live in these parts. Dream catches how you lean in to listen to his words. His eyes practically burn when he catches the flower in your hair, the same kind of flower that was in Destruction's.

Dream felt like jumping into the canoe across him, but that would hardly put him into your good graces, so he doesn't.

Before he realizes what he is doing, Dream clears his throat then loudly speaks, cutting his brother off, "you know I am friends with the queen of the fairies."

Both you and Destruction turn to him.

Dream ceases his rowing and allows his boat to drift next to yours.

There is a long silence between the three of you.

You turn from Dream to Destruction, jaw turning slack.

Why are you looking at him?

You push your shoulders back and tilt your head, "ah..." you smile at Dream, "I see."

Dream clenches his jaw. That was not the reaction he expected. But then again, he was unsure of what he was expecting.

It's Destruction that diffuses the thickening awkwardness, "he commissioned Shakespeare to write for the queen, you know."

You pull your head back then chuckle, "ah," you smile brighter, "he did, did he?" You turn back to Dream, "and which Shakespearean work would that be?"

Dream lifts his nose, "I have inspired the bard to write a great many plays. Two of them however are specifically for me."

You lean back in laughter, clutching your chest in delight, "ah, is that so? Let me guess, is one of them A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

Dream smiles, "precisely."

You laugh louder, shaking your head, "that's seems about right. I must admit," you sigh as you level your breathing, "I haven't really read that story at all. I... don't think I have the brain power to."

"No shame in that. I personally prefer painting over plays," Destruction notes, claiming your attention once again, "I admit, my attention span is not so suited for long winding plays."

You laugh again but Dream does not enjoy it, "yeah. I don't mean to offend the dead, but I can't really understand Shakespearean at all, so. The language is too outdated for me."

Dream accidentally (intentionally) hits the side of the other canoe. He feigns ignorance for a moment but then turns to the two of you, offering a wry smile, "apologies."

He was not at all apologetic.

In the end, Dream was situated between yours and his brother's shoulders in front of the large campfire most of the people on this wretched camp trip were circled around.

The explosiveness of the day had melted into a solemn and warm nightly gathering. Everyone was doing their own thing, cooking food, passing said food around, sharing stories. There was a strong sense of community. Dream, yet, felt like he did not belong.

The nightmare king, as he was talked over by the two of you, passed the 3rd plate of pie, rhubarb this time, to the person past you, then sunk deeper into his spot.

You were oblivious to him, he thinks

You were not. You noticed he was sulky ever since the canoeing. You offered a stick of animal shaped marshmallows to Dream mid conversation with his brother. He declined and sat up straight.

"Pardon," Dream shakes his head, "how were you two acquainted again?"

Destruction and you turn to each other as you bring your chocolate marshmallows closer to the open fire. In unison, you reply, "Didi."

Ah, Death. That made sense.

"Wait," you raise a finger, turning to Dream. He immediately perks up. Finally, he has your attention.

"If you're related to Didi," you start, "then that means you're-" you point to Destruction, "related to Didi."

Destruction grins, "my big sister!"

"Ah," you smile, "being sweet must run in the family."

"I have had enough!" Dream blurts, standing from his spot. He does this so abruptly that you drop your marshies and it calls the attention of other camp goers, not that he cared at all at this point.

He fails to realize that you did very much care.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck prick as you look up at fiery Dream. He pipes, "you told me it was I that you invited, I and only I, and yet you have done nothing but speak to my brother the whole day!"

Destruction can feel the agitation radiating off you for being put in the spot like that. He raises a hand, "Dream-"

"You are not being spoken to, Destruction," he turns to his brother, "know your place."

Not that you looked, not that you wanted to, but you could feel everyone's eyes burning into your body.

Destruction raises his hands in defeat. He turns to the crowd and sees a few of them were looking on in their direction. He turns back to you then the next second decides he knows what to do. Destruction looks out to the cliff from not too far off, then with the slightest tilt of his head, it falls with a loud splash into the lake.

It effectively distracts everyone who was looking your direction and everyone who wasn't.

"WOW!" Destruction points and stands, "that was a rock falling!"

You stand as well, looking to the people moving over to see what had happened to what, but Dream's grip on your arm keeps you from following.

"Please," he mutters, making you turn to him. His face is mystical in this light. It is shadowy yet so beautiful. "Speak in earnest. I cannot take this any further. I wish to know who between us has your heart."

You are effectively winded by this talk. It came out from seemingly nowhere.

"Is it I or my brother that you want to be with," Dream mumbles lowly, making your entire body freeze.

Your breath hitches, "b-be- what?"

"Must I speak more plainly? You can only have one. I am not particularly generous, and I certainly do not like to share what is mine," he raises his hand. You hold your breath in fear of the sound of your shaky breath when he brushes his fingers against your shoulder, "what I want to be mine," he whispers. "I especially find it difficult to release something that I want-- tenfold knowing what I want could well end in the arms of one of my siblings."

Your heart was echoing in your ribcage and your eardrums at this point.

The thumping would have excited Dream had he not been so green with envy.

"Destruction is dear to me," his soft lips move ever so slightly, "but if it comes to it, I will fight for you."

You nearly choke on your breath and your spit. A fight? One between Dream and Destruction? It sounds like a primordial event. A shiver runs down your spine. You shake your head quickly, "please don't."

Dream knits his brows and shakes his head more surely than you did, "I will."

Your breath hitches, "to be honest-" you blurt, "I didn't realize you- you... liked me like that."

Dream watches as you gather your thoughts.

"You... you do pop up in the strangest places, but I chalked that to something of fate or... proximity," you give a nervous look, "and you're not very good at showing emotions... I normally convince myself that if you didn't want to be around me, then you wouldn't."

He steps forward and places his hand on your cheek. "Allow me to make myself perfectly clear then," he rubs your skin with his thumb. Your skin pricks with goodbumps.

"Think back to the first moment we met. Every moment after, all instances that you have seen me was not coincidence. That was me purposefully reaching out to you, wanting be near you, wanting to see you, wanting to hear you, wanting to be with you, wanting you."

Both his hands are on your face now. His thumbs ghosts over your lips, "I want you."

You gulp.

"Do you want me too?"

You can't speak. You cant think. You can't breathe.

He doesn't let you when he leans in and kisses you. Soon enough, he gets his answer when you grab onto his top and kiss him back.

The forest trembles beneath your feet. Neither of you notice.

There, behind a not too far off tree, Destruction watches.

Matthew, in an announcer voice: In a total 180, the Dream rizz reaches maximum capacity, and in the end, he gets what he wants.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 21

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BYAKUYA ok i said i would be going on hiatus but i got really inspired and also it's my guy's birthday today so surprise update. going on hiatus fr now tho

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trust ended with makoto and never really started with kyoko now celeste is my new conversation partner

cant believe hes 31. and blond

@digitaldollsworld roman my friend romannn !!!

Content warning tags: description of depression/PTSD, mention of suicide, description of eating disorder

< previous - from start - next >

“Your hand.”

It’s the first thing Byakuya says to her as they leave the bathhouse. Kirigiri pauses mid-step, already halfway to the stairs, and turns over her shoulder.

“What of it?”

He gives her a pointed look. WIth her gloves on, he can’t tell the extent of the damage, but remembering how hard he’d tried to shut that door, he can imagine it’s not exactly pretty. “Is it broken?”

In response, she raises the hand in question, flexing it in front of him with the soft creak of well-worn leather. “It’s fine.”

Like hell it is. The fingers of her left hand hadn’t even been moving when she was typing, curled into a half-moon that skittered clumsily over the keys. But if she doesn’t want to admit it, there’s no point in him pointing it out. He has other questions, anyway. “Did you already know?”

He doesn’t mention Alter Ego out loud, but he doesn’t need to; there’s nothing else he could be referring to. She lowers her hand slowly. “Why do you think so?”

Of course, she would answer with another question. It was nothing but ambiguities and obstructions with her. “You didn’t seem surprised at all. You opened up the locker without any trouble. And you were very quick to volunteer yourself to take full responsibility.” It had been a thought in the back of his mind since the possibility of having to reveal Alter Ego to the others was brought up. She was the one who gave the computer to Chihiro, after all. He lowers his voice: “Considering how you were the one who passed that computer off to Chihiro, I can’t imagine that you weren’t aware of what he was up to.”

She doesn’t reply immediately, instead glancing around the ceiling for any wayward cameras, then behind Byakuya for any stray ears. But everyone else was still gathered around the bathhouse entrance, preoccupied with discussing their next move. Hiro was at the head of it, voice loud and excessively optimistic. “I’m curious as to how you perceived me as being unsurprised, all things considered.” She says flatly, and he feels a muscle twitch in his cheek. “And it wasn’t as if there was any lock on the locker itself. And it was the most logical thing to do, considering our room assignments.”

It doesn’t escape him how she hasn’t bothered to respond to his last statement, and it was too risky to make her answer it out loud, and especially not here or now. He hated having to concede, and especially not to her of all people, but the risk outweighed his pride. “Fine.” He grits out. Let her keep her secrets. “And where are you going now?”

He can probably guess, but he wants to hear it from her anyways. “The third floor was recently opened to us.” She replies coolly. “I am going to investigate.”

“Alone.” He doesn’t say it like a question. “You’re not bringing Makoto?”

“I always investigate alone. Anyone else…would get in the way.” She says that last part hesitantly, as if she’s not sure of her own reasoning. “I doubt he’d want to go with me regardless. Not after yesterday.”

Yesterday? He tries to think, if there was anything that happened yesterday that could have affected their relationship, but all he comes up with are the worst parts of the trial, the body discovery, the confrontation with Fukawa. The memories of everything else had blurred, melting together to become indiscernible.

She’s answering before he can even open his mouth to ask further. “I was the one who told Makoto to out you in the trial.” She says, monotone and unreadable, and then stands there, almost expectantly, as understanding sinks in.

He tries to feel angry, that familiar rush of fury, but there’s nothing, and it leaves him feeling jarringly cold in its absence. At his silence, she continues: “Let me be clear, Makoto did not want to betray you to begin with. I told him that it would be unavoidable, and the only way to clear you of all suspicion.”

“The two of you made me into a bigger target.” He points out, bitterly. A person who would be of no help in investigations or otherwise, who was helpless enough on his own to be an appealing victim who couldn’t retaliate. 

“There’s only ten of us left, in an enclosed space. With smaller numbers, it’s less likely for any one person to be willing to kill. Or get away with it, at least.” If she was trying to reassure him, she was failing miserably.

“Why Makoto? If you were aware, why couldn’t you have told them instead?”

She takes a step closer, and he barely keeps himself from stepping back. “Would they have been as ready to believe me?” She asks quietly. “You said it yourself: I’m someone who you all know nothing about. If I was the one who did it, would they be as quick to accept it? Or would they have started wrongly accusing me as well? Where would we be then?” She reaches out and grabs his lapels - in her left hand - and pulls him close, just enough to whisper: “I am the only one who can get us out of here. I’m sure you know that well.”

He feels his hands clenching into fists at his sides, but she’s right. Of course she is. Out of everyone here, she was the only one who was actively searching, trying to escape, and probably the closest to succeeding. That was the most frustrating part; that he couldn’t even properly argue back.

She releases him and retreats, tucking her hair behind her shoulders. “I will admit. If I had been the one to absolve you, then maybe you wouldn’t have had to be betrayed.” She says simply, and it’s probably the closest thing he’ll get to an apology. An offhanded acknowledgement of his miserable state.

He’s heard enough. He turns on his heel, but hasn’t made even a step when she grabs his arm so suddenly that he almost stumbles. “What?” He demands. Her fingers are tight around his forearm, and he can feel her leather glove, smooth and creased at the knuckles, digging through the fabric of his jacket.

There’s another pause, as she opens her mouth, but she’s silent long enough for him to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Then she releases him. “Nothing. Go eat.”

He was already planning to head to the cafeteria to do just that, but her tone irks him so much that he’s almost tempted to turn around and stomp back to his room. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Starve, then. But don’t wear yourself out.” She was already brushing past him, hair streaming behind her like a ghost. “You still have some use yet.”

He watches her go, a little stunned and more than a little scandalized. For her to belittle him, patronize him, and mock him, after he tried to help her - demonstrated concern, even - he clenches his fists to stop them from trembling, and smothers down the insult that she was already too far away to hear.

What an-! Insufferable little-! He sputters silently. To go from blatantly labeling him as ‘useless’ just a few days ago to saying this now, when his most fatal flaw had been laid bare to everyone…even more frustrating, was how underneath the anger, a smallest shred of pride had curled to life in his chest, undaunted by the disgust that immediately followed. As if he were a dog easily placated by nice words.

…The hunger must have started to interfere with my thoughts. He shakes his head, and turns back to the cafeteria. Behind him, he can hear the squeak of sneakered footsteps, pattering to catch up with him, and starts walking a little faster, knowing full well who it could be. And sure enough:

“Byakuya!”

It was just one after another. Makoto’s hand pinches onto his elbow sleeve, and Byakuya jerks out of his grasp with enough force that he almost stumbles, staggering awkwardly to maintain his balance. Makoto steps back, one hand still raised hesitantly, and his breath stutters slightly as he freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a lot that Byakuya can say here. He’s envisioned this interaction a thousand times, in between chess and shogi games with Alter Ego, as he showered, as he rested his exhausted, sightless eyes. But the vitriol he prepared doesn’t come; the very act of trying to come up with something to hurl at him just leaves him feeling drained. Hollowed out.

Luckily, he’s saved from having to say anything at all. Seemingly out of nowhere, with only a sudden rustle of velvet to announce her arrival, Celeste appears by his side, placing one hand delicately on his elbow.

“Oh, excuse me,” She hums serenely, entirely ignoring the strange, tense air between the other two. “I pray I am not intruding. Byakuya, won’t you please join me for tea?”

She’d never shown interest in him before. He scowls, instantly wary. “What for?”

“There’s no need for such frightening looks. I have no ulterior motives.” She’s probably smiling, though he can’t make out her mouth on her pale face. Just her eyes, pinpricks of an artificial, unsettling red. “But you have not eaten since yesterday’s breakfast, no? Hifumi’s milk tea is almost passable, and I would appreciate it if you could offer your refined opinion on it.”

He doesn’t move, arm held at an awkward position away from himself to keep her at a distance. Makoto is still there, watching them, hesitating. “Um, Byakuya-”

“And…I would like to apologize for my actions during the trial.” Byakuya’s eyes snap back to her. Her posture has relaxed somewhat, and she speaks slowly, as if every word was pushing against her pride. “I spoke rather callously, and…shed some rather insulting suggestions of your relation with Chihiro. At the time, I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing, but it seems I should not have been so rash.” The hand on his elbow slackens, just enough to be in danger of sliding off his arm entirely. “I can’t imagine how you are feeling now. It’s clear now, you were one of the people closest to him, if he was able to entrust you with something so precious.”

He feels his lip curling with disgust, at her shamelessness. It was unsurprising that someone such as the Ultimate Gambler would use words like cards, and know exactly how to play them. But even despite knowing that she wasn’t likely to be genuine, the stifling, uncomfortable pressure on his chest dissipates, just a little.

And he was hungry. And he has no desire to be face-to-face with Makoto at all, and he doubts Celeste’s intentions to kill him. And there was no motive, nor had he slighted her in any way - and besides. Prepositioning him here, in the middle of the hallway with Makoto to witness it, meant that it would be very difficult for her to free herself of suspicion if he were to turn up dead.

“Fine.” He forces his posture to relax. At that, her hand twines around his arm with the grace of a snake, much like how a lady might be led by a gentleman, resting there lightly.

She radiates smugness, and the self-satisfaction of a pampered cat as she leans into him. “Then, shall we go?”

He doesn’t really want to. But sometimes sacrifices were a means for a better end, and he only spares a single glance at Makoto as he leaves, standing ignored and alone in the middle of the hallway. 

___

“Ah, Princess!” Yamada calls as they enter. And then, slightly panicked: “And - M-Mister Togami-?”

Byakuya scoffs, disgusted, but Celeste tugs him along. “Yes, I am aware of the nature of the company that I keep.” She sounds almost apologetic about it, as she half-guides, half-steers him towards a two-person table near the far end of the cafeteria. “But I assure you, he has his uses. He’s loyal where it counts, and accomplishes things decently well.” She pats his arm, a gesture that feels far too familiar for his comfort. “I’m sure you understand?”

He makes no comment, seating himself with a scowl, and eyeing Celeste warily from across the table, a graceful shape of black and white before him. The girl had always been an enigma - much like Kirigiri in her careful, conniving ways - but he hasn’t forgiven her for how she so carelessly dropped the mention of his meeting with Chihiro. It hadn’t been to clear anything up either; he was sure that her intentions were for her own self-satisfaction, and nothing more.

Yamada waddles out of the kitchen, a large, silver tray balanced between his hands. He sets it on the table with a flourish, its contents rattling slightly - an intricate porcelain tea set decorated with a swirling black design, with a plate full of small teacakes, cookies, and other such deserts - and begins pouring out two cups of tea. He’s surprisingly graceful about it, making a show of pouring the milk in a large arc and stirring it all with a tiny silver spoon, before he sets one down in front of both of them.

Celeste lifts her cup to her lips, taking a careful sip. “Hm. Better,” She praises, and Yamada swells with pride, his chest puffing out. “Thank you. You may go.”

He deflates immediately. “Ah, but-” He clutches the empty tray to his chest like a shield. “Er, to sit alone w-with another man-!”

“Now, please.” There’s a firmness behind her gentle politeness, and after a moment’s hesitation, Yamada retreats to the kitchen with a quiet grumble.

There’s some sound near the entrance of the cafeteria, and when Byakuya looks up he sees Hagakure leading Owada towards a table, talking jovially about the importance of health and food, asking about any preferred dishes, and launching into some inane story about a hamburger and aliens.

“He’s been like that since this morning.” Celeste comments, and he turns back to her. She sets her teacup down with a gentle click, and laces her fingers beneath her chin as she leans forward, her voice lowered to an exaggeratedly conspiratorial degree. “You were not there, but Hiro declared himself the de facto leader in Taka’s absence. He stated that he has rights by age, but thus far he’s only taken responsibility for Owada.”

De facto leader…as if they had such a thing. “Good. Someone has to.” Byakuya grunts, as he lifts the cup to his lips. Owada was the farthest thing from stable at the moment, and he would rather avoid having to participate in another trial so soon. The tea Yamada made is passable, though too sweet for his tastes and richer than he would like.

“Hm, quite right.” She sighs. “I have no interest in repeating yesterday’s events for as long as I live.”

She says what he was thinking out loud, and somehow, that bothers him deeply. He didn’t like how similar the two of them were, how similar she was perceiving them to be. How similar they already were.

“But let’s not waste time on depressing things.” She claps her hands lightly. “I am curious. How is your relationship with Makoto now?”

He chokes on the teacake he had just taken a bite of, crumbling into crumbs and dust into his throat, and takes a hasty gulp of tea. It’s too hot and scalds his tongue, and the raw, healing wounds on his inner cheek. He almost doubles over with the pain, just barely managing to keep his posture. This whole time, he was painfully aware of Celeste watching him over her crossed hands.

“Are you alright?” She asks, offering him a handkerchief. He ignores it and takes another sip of tea, ignoring the burns.

“M’ f-ine.” He spits. He has the feeling his eyes are watering, though there’s not exactly a clear difference in his vision to suggest if that’s the case, and counts himself lucky for not choking. He tries to blink the tears inconspicuously away, and clears his throat. “Why - why do you ask about him?”

She tilts her head as if his question is the odd one. “You underestimate how much attention you drew when you accepted Makoto’s company. In the course of just a few short weeks, we’ve seen you two develop a sudden companionship, then a sudden lull, and then rekindle that relationship as if nothing had happened at all.” He has the feeling she’s smiling, though he can’t make out the gleam of her teeth compared to her chalk-white face. “Would you like to hear some of the rumors that have been spread?”

“Not in the slightest.” He can imagine what tasteless things have been whispered already. “The truth is nothing as scandalous as you’re hoping to hear. He was the first person who discovered my blindness, and was simply assisting me. Though-”

He grimaces inwardly now, at the memory of the trial. The earth-shattering feeling of betrayal. The quiet, hesitant way that Makoto had reached out to him afterwards, guilty as a thief. “Though, I have no need for people that can’t obey orders.”

That’s not the exact reason for his avoidance of Makoto, but he’s not interested in analyzing exactly why the other boy was bothering him so, and especially not now. It’s also not the sort of answer he would expect Celeste to be satisfied with, but to his surprise, she simply shrugs, and nods as if she understands it completely.

“I am the same. Though given our situation…I have had to be a little accommodating.” She flicks a hand carelessly in the direction of the kitchen. “I am surprised, however. Given your nature, I hadn’t expected you to be so merciful. You seemed to let Makoto off very kindly compared to the injustice he did you.” She leans forward slightly, staring at him. “You’ve changed, it seems.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is not an insult.” She says, with the same, gentle tone as a nanny with a displeased child. “If anything, it is praise. You’re far more open now, when compared to before.” She taps at her face. “You’ve stopped wearing your glasses, which you didn’t need in the first place. It’s a sign that you have become less shut off, no?”

“It’s not a sign of anything. My glasses broke when Owada punched me.” Never mind the fact that he has several spare pairs in his room. Trying to wear them now when everyone knew they were pointless would be more humiliating than anything, though he still has to consciously refrain from reaching up to touch his temples, fighting the habit to adjust something that wasn’t there.

“But even so, my point still stands.” Her eyes narrow as she smiles. “Before, you seemed very distant, but now it is more obvious that you are of flesh and blood.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. That was what he was afraid of, becoming more human, more like those around him. His glasses had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, even before there was a real need for him to wear them; they made him look older, Pennyworth had told him, and more mature. Less like a boy, more like a proper heir. Less like his mother, and more like a Togami.

He notices the pale, spindly shape of Celeste’s hand reaching for his face just in time, jerking backwards and out of her reach. If she’s surprised, she gives no sign, and simply retreats slowly. “I apologize. It seems I’ve said something insensitive once more.”

“...You said nothing of the sort.” He lies. Has he become that easy to read? He presses his lips into a thin line. “Even if I still had them, there’s no point in wearing them anymore. Not when everyone knows they’re pointless.”

“I see…if it is any consolation, I do find your appearance appealing now.” She says this hesitantly, shyly, hiding her face demurely behind her cup. But either she had layered on enough makeup to completely conceal her face, or she was an exceptionally skilled liar, or most likely both, because not the barest hint of a blush is visible on her at all. “You were uncomfortably perfect before, more like a little porcelain doll than anything. I rather enjoy this new, human side to you. Even the…imperfections, if you will forgive the term, are quite endearing.”

He can feel her gaze, bright red eyes, roaming his face. “Save your flattery.” He mutters. The burn on the roof of his mouth was making itself known again, and as he glances down at his plate at the remains of his earlier pastry, all he sees is an unappealing, sand-coloured blur. “Asides from the change in supposed ‘leadership’, what else happened when I wasn’t around?”

Thankfully, Celeste doesn’t push the topic, and instead launches into a detailed recount. Monokuma opened up the third floor as a reward for a successful trial, which included new amenities: an art room with just about everything needed for any medium, from sculpting to calligraphy; a very robust physics lab with a very large and elaborate air purifier; an equipment room without anything particularly noticeable; and a recreation room with a pool table, darts, board games, and a weekly magazine rack.

Byakuya raises his eyebrows at this last mention. “Weekly magazines?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, Monokuma has no intention of providing us with any new issues.” She sighs. “I asked him myself.”

He clicks his tongue, disappointed again but unsurprised, and leans back in his chair, taking a biscuit. Everything that Yamada had brought out was too sweet for his tastes, and tasted cheap, with the chemical-ly staleness of preservatives. It was killing his appetite, and he was ready to retreat back to his room.

“It seems that our school life has gained more opportunities to become enjoyable, however.” Celeste continues, ignoring his apparent sourness. “Won’t you join me for a game of Othello, sometime? I’m sure someone of your caliber is familiar with the rules.”

“I’ll pass. I have no need for a partner.” He doubts that she would be a better opponent than Alter Ego, in any case. Especially if he couldn’t see the board.

“A shame. But it was worth asking.” She doesn’t sound surprised by his blunt rejection. “I’m sure I could not compare to the games you have witnessed among the aristocracy?”

He hesitates for a moment. Her intentions were clear, full of the subtle eagerness of a child trying to wheedle out a prize for good behavior. “Witnessed, and participated. But I have to disappoint you, they’re more or less just like the gambling games that the commoners play, blackjack and roulette and such. The only difference is the wagers.”

“Very high wagers, I presume?”

“Yes, but not in money. Most of the time, all the participants have enough money to their name that mere cash becomes meaningless. So they place their stakes in other things- properties, businesses, liquid assets and even people. A family castle, their favored butler. Things that have more value to them than just monetary.” She leans forward on her elbows, listening intently, and after another moment’s pause, he continues. “I’ve only played once, and wagered a genuine second-generation [Delafoy] portrait bust. I won the original copy of the opponent’s family records.”

“A rather underwhelming prize.”

“Not at all. There’s nothing more valuable than information - especially when it’s limited.” He replies, smugly. That book of records was the only copy to exist, and the stupid, sheltered boy who had wagered it had gone nearly catatonic when he lost. He was outright disowned when his family discovered what he’d done, and the family head offered a fortune for the return of it - but Byakuya had kept it, both out of spite and necessity. That book ended up being a precious bargaining token later, when the game of inheritance found him and he needed a place to lie low.

Celeste is captivated, leaning as far as she can over the table with her chin tucked on her laced hands, eyes so wide that the red of her irises - contact lenses, surely - are twin, bloody suns on her milk-white face. Like a vampire bite, he notes distantly, with a hint of snide amusement. “It has always been a dream of mine to sit among those tables.” She says, and her voice is hushed and passionate, eager, expectant; a demand hidden in plain sight.

“It would never happen. Someone of your status would never be afforded the chance.” He scoffs immediately, matter-of-factly.

“Do the wealthy not recognize the value of skill? I’m sure I can provide a stimulating enough game for them.”

“And I don’t doubt that you could. But that wouldn’t matter.” She was certainly clever, but if she was still dreaming such foolish things, then he suspected that she would not last much longer in the mastermind’s game. He leans forward, fixing her with a stare. “The only reason why I could participate at all is because of my lineage; the Togami name is the only reason that family offered to buy back their precious records, rather than simply assassinate me and pick it off my corpse. Someone like you wouldn’t even be allowed to leave that table alive.” Those esteemed elderly with nothing to do and those spoiled brats with lofty ideals would let her join their table, for the novelty of having a member of the peasantry try her luck, but the moment she humiliated them would have marked her end. 

That answer seems to discourage her, and she sits back, plucking another cookie from the tray and turning it in her hands. “Such a violent reaction…it seems that the nobility are much less civilized than given credit.”

“Do you think yourself uncivilized for shooing away an insect? Like I said before, do not flatter yourself into thinking that we are on the same level.”

They’re quiet for a moment, sipping their tea and nibbling at the deserts. Hagakure was trying to coax Owada into eating a bowl of rice porridge, pressing a spoon into his listless hand. Byakuya watches with a strange, uncomfortable feeling growing over him, and suddenly wants nothing more than to leave.

“Ah, speaking of being human,” Celeste says suddenly, as if remembering something. “Makoto found a particularly interesting photo in the third-floor maintenance closet. And a very odd one, at that.” She pauses to take a delicate bite of a pastry, making him wait as she chews. “One of Mondo, Leon, and Chihiro laughing together in a classroom setting.”

“What?” He frowns. Were the three of them that close? He hadn’t noted them having any particular interactions between them to suggest such a thing. “When was the photo taken?”

“That, I cannot say. Monokuma seized the photo, so the only one who saw it was Makoto.” She shrugs, an elegant lift and fall of one shoulder. “But from what he said, they couldn’t have been much younger than they were when we first arrived.”

Perhaps they knew each other before enrolling here. It would be the most logical explanation, and it wouldn’t be impossible based on what he knew of them. He says as much aloud, and Celeste simply shrugs again.

“Perhaps.” She agrees, and takes another bite. “But if they did, they gave no indication of it, and certainly did not act like they knew each other at all. Though, I am inclined to believe it was nothing more than one of Monokuma’s pranks, intended to shake us.”

That wasn’t an unlikely possibility either. Byakuya certainly didn’t doubt that the bear might do such a thing. But for some reason it bothers him, sitting stubbornly in the back of his mind and refusing to be brushed away. Like a conspicuously empty patch of dust in an old room, marking the place where something unnamed once occupied and was now gone. Was it really just a prank, and nothing more?

From the kitchen, Yamada was humming, accompanied by the sound of pans and sizzling oil, hissing steam. Hagakure was still coaxing Owada into eating, while regaling him with another long-winded, far-fetched story. Despite everything, everyone was still going about their lives, domestic and carefree.

He thinks about Kirigiri, who never seemed to stop moving. Always thinking, always searching, always leagues ahead of him. She was similar to the girl in front of him now, clever and scheming and concealing everything behind an unreadable face. But different as well; Celeste speaks in an elegant, lilting cadence that reminded Byakuya of the children of the nobility that he had bumped elbows with before, and he can’t imagine himself having tea and small talk with Kirigiri in a similar setting.

“What will you do now,” He finds himself asking. “In regards to the killing game?”

Celeste tilts her head as if this were an obvious question. “I have no interest in dying. Nor do I have the stomach in me to imagine taking another person’s life.” She shudders slightly, as if the very thought of it was horrifying. “But all our amenities have been accounted for here, and I imagine we have all the provisions to live very comfortable lives. I can be content with this, so long as it ends the pointless tragedies.”

As he thought. Despite all her secretive, careful ways, the way she took to lying like a second skin; she was nothing like Kirigiri. Kirigiri had spine, at least.

He stands up suddenly with a screech of his chair, and she makes a noise of surprise. “You are leaving?”

“I have exhausted your company,” He says bluntly. “So there is no reason for me to stay.”

“Is that so…” There’s a sharp click as she raps her fingers against the patina. “In that case, thank you for the conversation. It was very insightful.”

He has no doubts about that. This was not a simple excuse to have a leisurely chat, but an exchange of information. She gave him what he wanted to know about the third floor, and he gave her a story to stave off boredom. Something to daydream about while they waited to escape.

He doesn’t bother deigning her with a proper goodbye as he turns to go. On his way out, he catches sight of Owada, sitting across from Hagakure, spoon still unmoving, watching him. Faceless and blank.

< previous - from start - next >

[stormblessed95]

https://twitter.com/btstatsreminder/status/1679741723420037120?t=ZHqfhAow6MrYCnMxohHNZw&s=19

Give tkks a brake and work on yourselves instead, jikookers. Bold of you to call tkks toxic and delulu when y'all are the same and need to just vanish from this earth so the boys would be free from hate and obsessed shippers fr

1. You clearly are just sending this to people who you saw in the jikook tag because otherwise you would know I'd normally be happy to call jkkrs out on being absolute fucking weirdos too and have, multiple times and that I'm not a huge fan of how toxic jkkrs have gotten lately.

2. Your assumption that the interview is a jkkr is WILD considering if you read the whole interview, it's quite obvious they aren't a jkkr and they were throwing shade at JK left and right, right from the get go about him not speaking english. And that even in the question they asked that included Jimin. They were lowkey shady about it. A jkkr would never because IF they were going to be gross and try to sneak gay romantic confessions outta JK. The question wouldn't have shaded either of them. And that would be weird and a problem too, but a different one.

3. I agree with the whole free the boys from weird overly obsessed shippers who create a toxic culture around just enjoying BTS and their bonds and what they stand for and their music. They dont need extra help getting hate, how lovely and beautiful all their friendships are should never contribute or be a reason for any hate they get.

4. Grow up. Be mad at the interviewer for being shitty, don't be mad at shippers for something they had nothing to do with. That's weird and nothing but preformative anger.

5. Tkkrs are delulu and toxic on a level that shouldn't be ignored snd in a way that makes me severely concerned for their mental health and is dipping into cult brainwashing behaviors. Into they need professional help behaviors. Are jkkrs there? Not yet, but it is heading there if things don't change and change soon. Which are all things I've been saying for the past few months. Nothing new.

6. I was way nicer in my reply to you than you honestly deserved with how you came swinging out of the gate at me with zero reason or provocation. Work on how you approach people if you want them to take your points more seriously please. Most people don't respond well to insults.

7. Its break* not brake. One is about stopping doing something or giving it a rest. The other is what you push in a car to make it stop moving. "Hit the brakes" "give me a break" no hate, just honestly letting you know! English is fucking hard and dumb at times.

[dalgursbate]

19, 29, and 39 fr the ask game !!

mwah mwah mwah i love you <333

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, and Vaginal Fingering all have 4 lol. If I remembered to tag for OT3s there'd be at least 7 tho

What’s your revision or editing process like?

Honestly? I obsessively stare at it until it makes me happy and then I post it and then immediately notice a million things I want to change. I need to get a better one, tbh.

Share a snippet from a WIP

For you? anything <3

from an upcoming durge/dead three seduction revenge modern au that no one in particular has asked for:

When Stasi walks into the board room it is already occupied by three attorneys, their teeth as sharp as the creases on their thousand-dollar suits. They don’t say anything at all to her as she enters, content to merely size her up while she takes her seat across from them. The expression in each of their eyes differs slightly—boredom in Thorm’s, hunger in Gortash’s, and sadistic glee in Anchev’s—but it all gets across the same message: that they are the ones in power here.  It’s a test, she knows. To see if she’ll flinch. She doesn’t. “Good morning,” Stasi says, smoothing her skirt over her thighs as she crosses her legs. She’s dressed smartly, though her ensemble is nowhere near as expensive as theirs are. She bought this suit on sale at Macy’s with a gift card she got as a graduation gift, and it’s hardly the pinnacle of haute couture, but she knows she looks good in it. She must, because Enver Gortash’s gaze keeps dipping down to trace the line of her neck, the dip of her clavicle. “Your resume is impressive: Georgetown, law review, magna cum laude,” Anchev recites in lieu of a greeting. Her lips are painted crimson where they stretch into a cruel smirk, and her platinum blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun at the base of her skull. She looks sort of like she wants to pin Stasi down and dissect her. “What made you decide to apply here?” In response, Stasi plasters a pleasant smile onto her face. She practiced it in the mirror this morning. “If you want to be the best, you have to learn from the best.” Thorm’s stare is dispassionate as he regards her. “So you want to learn from us, then?” He speaks slowly, his voice rich and deep. It sounds rather like if a rumble of thunder could experience disdain. Stasi wants to reach across the table and stab him in the eyes with one of her stilettos. Instead, she replies, “No, I want to make the firm buckets of money. Whatever I learn from you will just be a bonus.”  At that, Gortash finally looks up from where he’s been ogling her cleavage. “Now that’s a winning attitude.” “What can I say?” Stasi’s grin is almost sincere now. “I came here to win.”