#like it’s still fun to watch it’s just fun to see this recreated on my screen!

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[momomallowart]

Been working on making some AoT fanart since the finale but I keep getting sidetracked...

but I figured I'd share this WIP bc I've been trying to share more! ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔっ✨

[wibble-wobbegong]

i need to meet another schizo and see if our neurodivergency clicks the way the other ones click with each other . im Failing at being nd bro

[buffyannesummrs]

love and light to all who are enjoying but the problems I felt like were latent within TLOU adaptation have really started to come to a head and it’s such a bummer!

[reminiscingtonight]

Imaginary (Girl)Friend

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

[WOSO Masterlist]

You never talk about Leah. 

She’s your best friend, your better half, the first person you think to tell anything to. But you still never talk about Leah. 

You don’t talk about the fact that the two of you grew up together. Or that she prefers the crust cut off her plain ham sandwiches. Or how she stays up late just to call you even after playing a late night game away from home. 

You never talk about Leah because no one knew who she was. To you, she’s the most amazing person you know, the only person you’ll ever give your heart to. To everyone else, she’s simply another nameless face on another football team. 

And then the Euros happened.

The Euros happened, England won, and everyone started noticing Leah.

It’s hard at first. To watch your normally shy girlfriend have to shoulder the constant attention from both fans and media alike, to go from unknown to stopped every five seconds for a picture. Where Leah once held your hand while strolling on Sunday walks now became group outlettings lest you manage to secure an indoor date somewhere secluded.

Leah didn’t want you being dragged to national attention with her, and after watching the toll it took on her, you meekly agreed. While Leah became a professional footballer, you went to college, got a job, and now work a normal 9 to 5. Being famous for any reason, let alone dating someone famous, was something you never had an interest in.

So no, you don’t talk about Leah the footballer.

Leah the girlfriend however… you talk about her quite too much. 

But your friends always let you gush your heart out about the girl who’s had your heart since you were teenagers.

It’s friends like these that you treasure. They never push too hard, understanding when you skirt around bringing your girlfriend out to public events with large crowds. A couple of them are newer to the group, friends from work, but still respectful all the same.

Some of you even formed a recreational futsal team, just something to do after work once a week. It’s fun, getting to use some of those football skills you’ve acquired through your childhood playing on youth teams. 

Today’s one of those days. After wrapping up the last of your paperwork, you all pile into a car and make your way to the community center. 

The first half goes by quickly, not really memorable in any way.  

You’re taking a quick water break during half-time when one of your friends suddenly stiffens. 

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see her eyes widen at a spot over your shoulder. 

“What?” you ask, alarmed, trying to see what she’s looking at. But two hands on your shoulder stops you quickly, jerking you right back to face her.

“Don’t look, but I think a couple of the Lionesses are sitting in the bleachers, watching our game.”

You almost trip ripping yourself out of her grip, doing the exact opposite of what she just said.

Sure enough, you can spot the Three Best Friends huddled near the back of the bleachers, baseball caps and hoodies on as if that combo would actually help someone go incognito.

Almost as if she can feel your gaze, Leah’s face brightens, resting scowl turning into a grin as she waves at you. Before you can so much as react, a hand on your arm spins you back around.

“Oh my god, what are we going to do? I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the Leah Williamson, Keira Walsh, and Georgia Stanway!”

You snort, gently shaking her hands off. “First off, it’s just rec futsal. If we lose it’s nothing that life ending. Also, we can always blame it on the court if we play poorly.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but the whistle from the ref calls before you can convince her some more. 

Taking your spot on the court again, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. With the constant attention and numerous commitments clogging up your girlfriend’s schedule, it’s been a while since Leah’s come to one of your games. 

And so what if you end up showing off a little bit? Your girlfriend is here watching and you’re only human.

By the time the game ends, your team is up by six, four scored by you.

“God damn, we should try to invite the Lionesses out every week if you’re going to ball out like that when they’re here,” Riley jokingly complains, laughing when you shove her back playfully.

“Speaking of the Lionesses…”

Spinning around you see your girlfriend and her friends starting their descent down to the court. You skip to meet them halfway, ignoring the awestruck looks coming from all around. 

Leah gives you a quick hug before pulling back, mindful of prying eyes. 

“Leah! What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to surprise my girl,” she mumbles, cheeks burning bright red as she instinctively pulls her cap down tighter on her head. “That’s okay right? I just haven’t seen you play live in a while and I--”

“Of course it’s fine.” Your cheeks are starting to hurt a bit by how wide you’re smiling.

You turn quickly to her two friends by her side. 

“Happy to see you guys too! Thanks for coming out.”

Georgia and Keira exchange devilish grins before each throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“We would’ve come out to a match sooner if lovergirl over here hadn’t gatekeeped when your games were.”

Keira nods dramatically. “It was like pulling teeth with this one, trying to convince her to let us tag along today. You’d almost think she wanted us to forget she had a girlfriend.”

Leah rolls her eyes at the accusations. “A). I wasn’t gatekeeping. B). It was like pulling teeth today --- you wouldn’t give me a moment of peace until I agreed. And C). If I wanted you to forget I had a girlfriend, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“Pshh, as if you could make us forget our favorite Milton Keynes native. We’d choose her in the divorce,” Georgia quips, ignoring the eyebrow Leah raises her way.

Before the three of them can get in a shoving match, you suddenly remember your friends that you’ve left behind.

“Wait, let me introduce you guys to my teammates.”

Your friends look shell-shocked, eyes darting between you and the little posse of professional footballers you’ve amassed around you when you return. 

“Guys, this is my girlfriend Leah and her two friends.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Then a whispered, “why are you introducing three Lionesses to us as if you have dinner together on the regular?” Riley honestly looks like she’s about to pass out, but you decide to humor her a bit.

“Because I do? Keira and G come down sometimes during breaks, and I do live with Leah. So…” 

Your explanation seems pretty straightforward to you, but if anything, it only makes things more confusing for your friends.  

They exchange looks with each other before Riley cautiously asks, “You were being serious about that?”

It’s your turn to be confused, face scrunching up. “What do you mean?”

“Well you kept talking about your mysterious girlfriend Leah without ever introducing us to her…”

“Or showing us a picture,” another voice adds on, trying to be helpful.

“We just kinda assumed Leah wasn’t real,” Riley finishes off lamely.

You roll your eyes, elbowing your girlfriend when you feel Leah snort next to you.

She recovers quickly, giving your friends a smile. “Well rest assured, the girlfriend is very much real. It’s nice to meet you guys, I’m Leah.”

[scarletlizzard]

Her Favorite Drug

Pairings: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: drug use (marijuana), smoking, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, stap on use (R receiving), fluff because I tortued yall with my last story

Summary: Your girlfriend is a stoner. One night, you decide you finally want to try some.

Masterlist

A/N: This is just smut oops. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. Also, the pics with the backward hats kills me every fucking time. Anyways, have fun 💚

Wandas delicate fingers expertly pack in the unfamiliar green into a brown wrapper. You watch closely, feeling her breath on the back of your neck and tickling your ear as she speaks.

"See detka? Then I'll just roll it up like this.." Her voice is soft as she speaks. You nod, eyes stuck on her fingers as they begin to roll the paper.

You were currently sitting in Wandas lap, her arms working in front of you to wrap another joint. In the year you had been dating, this was the first time you were going to join in on your girlfriends favorite recreational hobby. It was no secret that Wanda smoked weed, almost every night to be exact. You had never really been interested in smoking it, but you loved to watch her enjoy it.

Tonight was different. Tonight, you finally wanted to know how it felt. Wanda was surprised at first when you asked, but she was more than happy to pull you into her lap and show you how she does it.

"Lick along here for me," she says, drawing a line on the wrapper. You lean forward away from the warmth of Wandas chest to follow her instructions. "Perfect, baby!" Wanda praises, fiddling with the joint for only a moment before holding it out in her hand to show you the final product.

"Now it's ready?" You ask her, turning sideways on her lap. Your back rests against the arm of the couch, and your legs lay across her thighs.

Wanda nods, a grin on her face, "It's ready. I'll go first, you watch me, okay?"

You had planned on it. Wanda couldn't be more sexy when she smoked. You watch her bring the joint to rest between her lips, the other hand holding a lighter to the end of it. It catches easily, and Wanda inhales deeply before removing it from her lips and blowing out smoke. You press your thighs together tightly, Wanda always had that effect on you.

"You ready, baby?" She asks with a smirk, resting her hand to rub small circles on your leg. You nod slowly, reaching out your hand. "Just take a small one at first.." Wandas voice is husky from the smoke, only making you squeeze your legs tighter.

You begin to smell the familiar scent of the weed as smoke fills the air between the two of you. Here you go.. you take the drug between your lips as Wanda did, breathing it in. It's smoother than you thought as you inhale, but the burn in your lungs was unexpected. Wanda quickly takes the joint out of your hand as your eyes widen, and you let out the smoke with a set of coughs.

"Fuck.." You mumble out between coughs. Wanda chuckles and reaches for a water bottle, handing it to you. She watches with dark eyes as you sip the water, smoking the joint with no problem.

"Burns, huh?" She smiles and rubs your back soothingly as you nod at her, still drinking the water.

After a few moments and the burning resides, you take another hit. You feel your tensions disappear. Another one, and you feel an overwhelming rush to your head, not in a bad way. Then another, and so on until you and Wanda are finished with the joint. Your senses feel heightened.

You finish off the water as Wanda sets what remains of the joint in an ash tray. She smiles at you with red, squinting eyes, "Come here, baby." She chuckles and maneuvers you, so you're straddling her lap. "How do you feel?" She whispers, staring into your red and glossy eyes.

You giggle at her sentence, for some reason finding it funny. The lighting in the room was dark. Only a few string lights lit above the wall shone brightly against the side of Wandas face. There was a cloudy haze above the couch and in your mind. You felt...

"Like I'm floating," you giggle more, causing Wanda to chuckle. Her fingertips run along the hem of your shirt, sneaking under the back of it. They make their way slowly up and down your spine, the feeling practically euphoric in the state you were in.

"Feels good, huh detka?" Wanda mumbles as she plants soft kisses on your neck. So, so soft.. is all you could think. Your eyes close at the sensations. You nod, and you know it's too slow. Wanda lifts her head to look at you, and you take advantage by holding her face in your hands.

"So good, Wands.." Your thumbs rub over her cheeks as your eyes take in her features. You swallow hard, looking at her red lips and thinking of the way they kiss you softly. Your eyes travel down to her sharp jaw, your fingers tracing each feature you spot. "You're so pretty," you whisper with a giggle.

She laughs.

God, her laugh..

Your thoughts are slow as you look down to a freckle on her neck. Christ, you want to kiss it.

So you do. You lean forward and press your lips to her neck, feeling how warm her skin is under your kiss. Wanda lets out a low hum in response, so you kiss it again. Her nails scratch softly down your back, so you bite down on the skin and suck gently.

"Detka..." Her head lulls to the side, giving you more space. The thick accent in her voice only makes the ache for her stronger. "Baby," Wanda groans as your lips work their way down her neck. Her hands move down to your waist, "Move against me," she moans out, gripping your hips.

You rock back and forth in her lap, letting out a moan at the pleasure of the small amount of friction. As soon as your lips leave Wandas neck she's pulling off your shirt, along with her own. Among the haze you feel her breasts press against yours, and she leans forward to kiss you.

The kiss is unlike any you had before with her. It truly felt magical. You still felt like you were floating, and you could feel every inch of her skin on yours. "Need you.." You whimper in between kisses, still grinding yourself down against her lap. Wanda only moans in response. She continues to kiss you as she stands, still holding you. Your legs wrap around her waist.

The walk to her bedroom is short, and you don't even realize it until she's lying you down on the edge of the bed. The only thing you can think of is the way her lips fit perfectly against yours. You whine when she pulls away, frowning as you see her red and puffy lips that you still wanted to be touching your own.

"Now, now, detka.." She says, sliding down your pants. Bare for her to see, Wanda shakes her head as she gets down on her knees in front of the bed. "Fuck.. you're always so pretty for me." She mumbles in between wet kisses on your inner thighs. Your head was spinning between the lust and the weed, your body was begging for her touch.

Her hands move to hold your thighs open, gripping down tightly on the soft skin. "God, I can't wait to taste you," Wanda groans. You feel her lips attach to you clit, kissing it gently. Looking down you see green eyes peering up at you, a wicked grin on her face as she takes one long lick up your slit.

"Wanda, please.." You moan out, bucking your hips towards her. Your hands grip the sheets, and she can no longer hold back. Wandas mouth attaches to your wet pussy, her experienced tongue sending you into a frenzy.

"Mmm.." She moans against you, sending vibrations onto your clit. "You taste so good baby, just like always.." Wanda moans again, sucking softly on your clit. "Always so fucking good.."

"Ohh god, Wands.." You moan out, barely able to watch as she continues to move her tongue sinfully. Suddenly, you feel two slender fingers at your entrance, pushing in easily with how turned on you were. "Oh, fuck!" You whine out as she begins to pump her fingers inside of you, her lips sucking on your clit. Wanda can't help her own moans as you call out her name.

"That's it, babygirl.. just like that.." Her lips smack as she removes them from your clit, glistening in the dim lighting with your juices. You stare at her with red eyes as she kisses her way up your body.

"Baby I'm gonna cum, please," you moan.

"Cum for me then, detka." Wanda coaxes you, watching with dark eyes. She could get off right now at just the sight of your body beneath her, the way every one of her touches raised goosebumps on your skin. Wanda feels you tighten around her fingers, wet walls pulling them in. She smirks down at you. "That's it.. just like that, fuck.." She mutters.

You repeat her name as pleasure flows through your body, your climax crashing over you like waves. You knew being stoned would be different, but you hadn't expected to feel this euphoric. Your eyes open to see Wanda staring down at you with stars in her green eyes.

"Wanda, that.."

"I know, detka," Wanda chuckles.

You take her face in your hands and kiss her passionately. The way her tongue swipes across your lip and the fact that you can taste yourself has your body heating up all over again. You feel a familiar fire burning in your lower stomach as Wandas naked body rubs against yours.

So, so soft...

So, so warm...

You don't know how long it is, with no sense of time, that you had been kissing Wanda. But she parts with swollen lips to walk across the room. You feel yourself throbbing as you know what she's getting, what she's about to do. Wanda walks over to you, her strap now attached to her.

"Sit up, baby," Wanda says gently and helps you sit up. She moves to sit at the head of the bed, her back sitting against the headboard. "Come here." She smiles at you, helping you straddling her lap. "Such a pretty girl, for me, aren't you?" You nod in response. "Then ride my cock like the good girl you are." Her voice is stern, but soft.

Wanda practically lifts you up before you settle yourself down onto the faux cock. Your mouth parts and your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of her deep inside you. Any pain quickly turns to pleasure as she guides you with hands on your hips to begin moving.

All you could grasp was the feeling of Wandas hips snapping up to meet yours, the way she moans your name, and how soft the skin under your hands was. Your hands traveled from her shoulders, to her neck, to her jaw. You couldn't pick one to settle on. You had to keep touching her.

Wanda could feel, with every thrust of her hips and every bounce of your body, the strap rubbing her in all the right places. She could feel her skin burning against yours.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," She moans along with you, sinful sounds filling the room. "You're doing so good detka, fucking bouncing on my cock like that." You only manage a whimper out, legs shaking as they were about to give out underneath you.

Wanda suddenly grabs ahold of you, lifting both of you up and lying you onto your back. She pounds relentlessly into you, and you know at this angle you're not going to last long.

"Oh god, Wanda! Feels so good!" You cry out, feeling her breasts press against yours. The muscles in her arms flexed as she held herself above you.

"I know, baby, I know.." Wanda praises. Your hands hold onto her back, leaving scratches down her back as she continues to thrust into you with no mercy. She grunts at the feeling, loving the way you held onto her.

Wanda is met with more resistance as she thrusts, your walls tightening once again around her. "Are you gonna cum again for me baby? Fuck, fuck.." She can't help the low moan that escapes from the back of her throat. This time you can only nod, mouth unable to form actual words. "Fuck Y/N I'm gonna cum!" Her hips waver, that steady rhythm she had finally faltering. "Cum with me, detka. Cum for me," Wanda pants out, hot breath hitting your sticky skin.

That's all it takes for you to repeat her name again, over and over like worship. Another orgasm crashes over just like before, waves hitting you over and over.

You don't know how long you'd been laying like this, but you were loving every moment of it. Wanda held you close under the covers, at the wrong side of the bed. You felt the soft fabric of your pillowcase tickle your toes. The two different highs you experienced tonight slowly fading away.

"I guess I could probably do that again," you say with a giggle, your finger tracing imaginary letters on Wandas chest. She hums in response, kissing your forehead. You could feel the smile plastered on her face.

"We're definitely getting you stoned again," Wanda laughs and moves herself on top of you again, settling herself between your legs. Her green eyes were just that, no sign of bloodshot anywhere.

Wandas' regular usage had her craving more already.

So she kisses you again, her favorite drug of choice.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

idk if you’re familiar with teen wolf but could i request a fic with loser!Luke who’s similar to Stiles stilinski and aphrodite!reader is similar to lydia. No one sees that reader is more than a pretty cabin 10 girl and idk i think it would be cute if luke recreates the “hi y/n, you look…like you’re gonna ignore me” ugh loser!luke just gives me too much in my feelings

𝒫ℴ𝓅𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇

I LOVE LOSER LUKE AND TEEN WOLF AHHH

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Has she even looked your way?” Chris asked, listening to his brother's fantasies. The two walked through the woods, bags slung over their shoulders.

“A few times. She talks to me when we spar.” He shrugged, “and when we check cabins together.”

“Mmm… right, and in those few times she’s become interested in you? You have to make some sort of effort.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” He joked; Chris chuckled.

“Because she’s Aphrodite’s favorite, she’s the most popular girl at camp, almost every guy wants to be with her, and every girl admires her. She beats you in sword fighting from time to time and she’s a God at archery.”

“I still gotta chance. And she does not beat me in sword fighting.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“Mhm..”

He nudged Chris and asked him, “what about you? You got your eyes on anyone?”

“Nah.” He shook his head.

The two continued chatting and walking, when Luke saw someone coming up quickly in the corner of his eye.

Chris nudged him this time, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey y/n, you look…” Luke began to say, but you just walked past him, not acknowledging him.

“Like you’re gonna ignore me.” He mumbled to himself, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment as Chris laughed at him.

“Shut up.” He groaned, rolling his eyes at Chris.

And it was just his luck that you were heading to the same spot as him.

The ocean was a common spot for campers to get away and escape. It was a long walk there but it was worth it, it was beautiful and it was quiet.

But today was Sunday, most kids would be having fun with their friends and taking this day off. You were heading there to practice.

Soon, they had reached it and they saw you already there, ready with your bow in hand. There was a few targets on the trees. They watched you, looking like dears in headlights when you turned to look at them.

“Can I help you..?” You asked them, slightly annoyed.

“No. No. Sorry.” Chris said, grabbing Luke’s arm and dragging him as far as possible and onto the sand.

“She’s so…” he mumbled to himself, as he took off his shirt and turned back to face you. He took off his jeans, his shorts underneath.

You furrowed an eyebrow as you saw him, he messed up your shot as you turned to look at him. Jesus, he was ripped. You thought.

“You have it bad, you know that? She’s not even using charmspeak.” Chris replied. “Turn back around, you look creepy.”

Luke obliged, turning to look at Chris now as he took off his own shirt and jeans, his swimming shorts underneath.

The two raced to the water, jumping in. Luke had won, the two laughing.

You focused on your shooting, however. Trying your best to ignore the pair. They swam around, racing each other while talking loudly. They then sat down on the sand, shaking their heads and wet curls.

You sat down against a tree, downing your water. Chris began talking but Luke wasn't listening. He watched you, and Chris smirked at him.

"Go talk to her."

"What?" he asked, as if it was the craziest thing he's ever heard.

"Go talk to her, man."

"About what?"

"Just talk to her." he shrugged, softly pushing Luke.

"Alright, alright." He said, standing up. and slowly walking towards you. You glanced at him, and he gave you a small smile and sat next to you. You took in a deep breath.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi..."

Now that you were looking at him more closely, he wasn't bad looking, not at all.

"It's uh, y/n, right?"

You nodded. But you knew that he already knew that. "Its Luke, isn't it?"

Holy shit you knew his name. He was trying to contain a smile, his heart raced. He nodded slowly, and you laughed quietly as you noticed him staring at you.

"Well? Did you need something or just my name, gorgeous?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and his eyes went wide. Oh my God, you called him gorgeous. He didn't know what to say. You smiled and tilted your head at him, waiting on a response.

"No, sorry." He cleared his throat. "Just... Yeah, I'm gonna go, it was nice talking to you." He said, standing up, and almost tripping as he ran back to Chris.

What an interesting boy, you thought to yourself as you stared at him, and when he turned back you gave him a small smile, a pink tint on his face.

[moonwoodhollow]

2k follower gift: Casa de Tedeji 22 - a cc lot by moonwoodhollow It’s finally time for one of my favourite buildings I have done in a while; Casa de Tedeji 22! Casa de Tedeji 22 is a mostly unfurnished residential lot that is best placed in Ciudad Enamorada. This lot was inspired by the film Roma, and I hope you'll find it as charming as I do! This building consists of three different houses, and you could either have just one family living there, or you could fill all three houses with families and watch the drama unfold. Either way, I hope you have fun with this lot & thank you again, for 2k followers!

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

Building background

As someone who's never been to Mexico, I still wanted to create a somewhat realistic building for Ciudad Enamorada that perfectly fits into the world.

The house that I first thought of, was the 'main' house in which most of the plot of the film Roma by Alfonso Cuarón took place. Even though I watched the film some time ago I often kept thinking back to the house and the architecture of Mexico City in the 70s. So I looked up the filming locations and found out that the house actually still exists, you can read about more here and here if you're interested.

While building I obviously changed a few things from the original structure, because I did not want to recreate the house entirely, as I didn't have too many inside-the-house photos, so I went to googlemaps and got inspired by the neighbouring houses and that's how this building or these three buildings came to be!

So what do you get?

Case de Tedeji 22 is a 30x20 residential build best placed in Ciudad Enamorada on the Mansión de la Pasión lot. It probably could also work on other lots, but it looks best on that one. The lot is unfurnished, meaning I only added the outdoor decor but kept the houses completely unfurnished except for flooring and wallpaper + a floorplan for each house.

house one: 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a fenced-in garden

house two: 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a balcony, courtyard

house three: 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms (1 ensuite), rooftop space

If you own For Rent, you could change the lot type to residential rental, but obviously, even without that pack, you could play with up to 8 sims/three families on this lot.

Uses items from the following packs: I will update this, once I hop back into game, but I own almost all packs.

Download: Google Drive(195 MB) | Also up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you’ll need the cc files from the Drive folder!)

Is the CC included? Yes.

A BIG THANK YOU to all the CC-creators, without their creations, I wouldn’t have been able to build this!

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues (wrong/missing files, etc.) please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the building, I’d love to see it in your games.

If you like what I do and want to show your appreciation, I have a ko-fi!

[d6volution]

Ringmaster.

Rating: Explicit.

Caine/Reader. | Fem aligned reader.

tags: fingering, body modification, aphrodisiacs.

minors dni.

Chapter 1: Escapades.

It had been about a week since you showed up, well got stuck in this digital world. Instead of wallowing in your bedroom, you decided to take a walk towards the digital lake. Trying to recreate the feeling of getting 'fresh air.'' For a moment you actually felt.. at ease until a bustling voice startled you. 

"Gooood morning, Y/N!" Caine said, a little too loudly for your liking. "I hope you got all the artificial sleep you needed, because you and I are going on a very special adventure today!" Caine was floating next to you, as you hadn't stopped walking. 

His announcer voice was definitely more overwhelming and somehow louder in the early hours of the morning. "Wait.. us? What kind of adventure?" The words just clicked, he doesn't.. usually go on adventures with you all. 

"Worry not my dear, that's exactly where we're going now!" He exclaimed and twirled his baton until it was facing you for added dramatic effect. He wrapped his arm around your waist and much like during the tour on your first day, he yanked you into the tent in mere seconds. But in a more secluded section of the brightly colored building. 

You were dizzy and holding your head as your feet were somehow on the ground now. "Wh.. Wha.." 

What you didn't notice until your dizzy spell faded was the heaviness to your chest and .. other strange feeling in parts of your body you hadn't felt before. Your once "normal" body ... well— in the digital sense at least, was closer to humans now. You still had the same outfit, but now it was filled out with sizely breasts among other things. 

"Caine.. what is this..? What the [censor!] did you do!?" 

"Now now, what did I say about such foul language? And that my sweet little, Y/N is all going to be explained .... Right now!" He spun into the air, raising his hands to keep the dramatics up to par.

"You see, your giddy old ring master here needs entertainment of his own don't you agree!? So you will be that entertainment! And don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll even give you a head start!" 

He said and snapped his fingers, and just then you felt a strange sensation course through your body, it caused your knees to buckle and body to grow immensely hot. "W.. What's going on..." You muttered, feeling heat grow between your legs and nipples growing hard against your clothes. 

Caine was staring for a moment, watching you fall apart at the snap of his fingers.

He cleared his throat, "Now this should be very simple and might I say fun too! Just keep your body satiated and satisfied and the effects still eventually wear off!" 

"S.. Satisfied.. you can't mean.." He wanted you to masturbate!? 

"Oh , but I mean it my dear! Now chop chop!" He waved his baton and a floating chair appeared, just a few feet above the ground. Caine sat down and watched. 

"You can't be s-serious.. ! I can't do that while you're.. watching!" You felt extremely self conscious , but just as he said your body was becoming increasingly hot and the urge to touch yourself only grew with every passing second. Your mind was clouding with lust and your better judgement was flying out the window. 

"If I don't watch how else am I supposed to keep tally off everytime you climax my dear? It's very important to keep count!" As he spoke a chalkboard appeared next to him, also seamlessly floating in the air. 

"Oh! Perhaps it'd be better if we had more company?? I could invite Zooble! Or even Jax!" He exclaimed, speaking as if this was the most normal thing in the world. 

"N.. No, no!" You had to save yourself from further humiliation. You looked up, and Caine wasn't in his chair anymore.

Suddenly you felt two hands groping your chest from behind, and you yelped in surprise. Unfortunately whatever Caine did to your body was having such a strong effect that you were melting into his hands. 

"See? Was that so hard dear! You just needed a little push is all!" Caine spoke from behind you, without hesitation he slipped his hand up your shirt and groped your bare breasts instead, pinching at your nipple which made your knees weak. 

"C.. Caine, sensitive..!" You whined, grabbing his arm, but he didn't stop.

"That's the point im afraid! Perhaps if you started sooner you wouldn't as sensitive but! Now that I think about it I prefer it this way!" He laughed , the sound reverberating throughout the room. 

Your hand seemed to move on its own, trailing towards your cunt that was already leaking. You stuck your hands in your pants and began to rub gentle circles onto your clit, it was so sensitive that your own legs closed around your hand. "Please..hha.." 

Your noises were like music to his ears, causing him to 'accidentally' pull at one of your nipples rather hard, causing you to yelp and jolt in his arms. 

"Whoops! Sorry my dear, seems my hands have a mind of their own today!" 

He could see your hand disappearing into your pants, sensing how gentle you were being with yourself seemed to make him just a little.. agitated. "Now now, you'll have to do better than that!" One of his hands pulled itself from your shirt and instead yanked your hand from your pants. Replacing it with his own. 

You were too deep in this cloud of lust, and body subsequently too weak to fight back against his advances.. not like you really wanted to anymore.— 

"Ah, here we are!" He stuck two fingers inside of your wet cunt, and they slipped in with ease. He didn't take his time and immediately pumped them in and out at a rapid pace. Behind that jolly visage was an incredibly impatient man it seems. 

"C.. Caine, Caine..! Hhaa! Please!" You whined and babbled out as he mercilessly fingered your hungry cunt. 

"That's my name, don't wear it out my dear! Now how about a third?" He added another finger, stretching your cunt out deliciously on his fingers. Yet you still took it with ease, and after a few more pumps your body got tense, knees buckling as you cried out in pleasure. 

"You made quite the mess I'm afraid!" He commented and slowly removed his fingers from your cunt, running his big tongue along his dirtied fingers.

"Caine.. finished now..?" You said, leaning against him for support. And he held you firm enough that you wouldn't fall.

"Of course not dear! The tallyboard isn't here for nothing , we're just getting started after all!" He says with pure excitement and just like he said..

there was one mark on the tally board.

[umahumahumah]

How do you recreate the Hetalia artstyle so well

ok so.. .uhhhhhhhhhh honestly i dont even know how. which is why i am obviously qualified to make YOU, yes you, the person reading this, a tutorial

i psoted an incomplete tutorial on the hetalia art style some few months back and when i look back at it now, some things are just straight up wrong or need clarification (also its the same post where i accidentally sent multiple death threats to a random sex worker thinking they were just a porn bot oopsies) so if you guys still remember that, forget about it! all of it!!! this is a brand new, more accurate guide on how to draw himas style!

(quick warning though im just a weeb not a professional teacher by any means so dont take this as gospel and dont get mad if i got something wrong or something is confusing)

himastyle tutorial! (the better one) part 1

(link to part 2 here)

ok lets start off with the

HEADS

this is just the way i start drawing my heads personally. if i had to describe it, its basically a simplified stylized version of the loomis head method. proko has a good video on it! just give that a quick watch then take a look at my step by step guide

but besides this, there are some important things about the head that you should remember

the shape of the head is generally rectangular

compared to more typical ikemen styles, hetalia characters have a more rectangular head. HOWEVER their chins taper off to a very triangular shape. rarely do the chins flatten out like the guy on the left.

2. shorter face = younger/more feminine appearance

well... self explanatory. you can see in the diagram how changing the length of the face gives a character a more feminine/childish look.

if you feel that something looks kind of off, feel free to change it, but if it looks okay then lets move onto facial features!!!

NOSES:

ok so this might seem a little weird but i like drawing the nose first. its right in the middle of the face and is generally the easiest to get right. it also kind of acts as a divider between the eyes, especially useful when you're drawing in a 3/4 angle

which kind of look something like that i guess.....

or that if you want something less extreme

anyways while hetalia noses are kind of inconsistent they generally have the shape of these three lines. feminine/childlike characters have a smaller and subtler nose though

noses also never face fully straight ahead, so when drawing a front view, the nose slightly faces right or left (tbh himas characters rarely face the camera head on, so id refrain from drawing frontal views altogether but thats just me)

anyways lets move on to my second favorite part of the hetalia art style

EYES:

the eyes are the most important part of himas style. if all else fails, you can always recognize the style by the eyes. luckily for you, the eyes really arent complicated compared to other anime styles :D here is how i do it:

(feminine and childlike characters have bigger eyes)

you have probably noticed this but the pupils hima draws now has a more squiggly teary-eyed look compared to the pupils he drew then...

i subcounciously do a mixture of the two because i got used to drawing the old type, but if you wanna draw the new type of pupils just take note of their squigly shape and that they have one dominant highlight in the upper-middle area. uhhh.. or if youre like me just draw the old eyes as if you have parkinson's

anyways heres a step by step guide

and some fun eye variations!!! you can try using variants if youd like to give an oc a more unique look (you can also try making your own variants too but be careful of straying too far from the style)

so now about the eyebrow and the eyelid.... uhhh the eyelid doesnt really have a consistent length so just draw it however. feminine and childlike characters have thinner eyebrows but even then eyebrows should never be drawn as just a single line

we are close to finishing the face!!! now we can move onto

MOUTHS:

if you know how to draw a typical anime mouth, then hima mouths is easy peasy!

for closed mouths just draw a curved line with two dark blots for the corners of the mouth

i think that giving them a shaky look makes them look more expressive

open mouths are just random blobs, dont close off the bottom though, and theys till have those dark blots at the corner of the mouth

now then i'll move onto the

EARS + CHEEKS:

i decided to combine these two since these are probably the easiest parts of the face

hima's ears are pretty round and don't really vary in shape. inside the ears though....

it isnt very consistent, so don't think too hard about "getting them right". above are some ear variations i drew from one of the latest chapters of the manga

the cheeks are just a bunch of lines that can appear fully, or only on one cheek, or don't appear at all. i think it depends on level of detail, angle, or the character's emotion

these lines do not appear on rendered pieces

also if a character feels especially displeased they will gain heavy eyebags

so yay! we're pretty much done with the face!! look forward next time to where i cover hair, the body, and other stuff idk... i'll link the other parts to each other when i complete them

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 9: GOD IS A CIRCLE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Your angels do not react. They only look at you with concern, shielding you from the blazing sun with their wings. They stare as you laugh, doubling over, falling backwards into the green grass. You only remember that you’re alive when they trace the contours of your body with their fingertips.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high sex, threesome, oral sex, fingering, graphic depictions of violence and blood, recreational drug usage, biblical imagery, angst

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i was barely conscious when i wrote this. sorry bout it

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

August, 2009

Bliss is never eternal. If it was, you’d think the world would stop turning with everyone busy with their greatest indulgences. It’s not like you were much of a hedonist anyway, not even with Satoru’s influence.

You feel intoxicated with him and Suguru, but it’s not enough to keep you from reality. Yaga-sensei proves this the moment the boys are ordained the task of protecting the star plasma vessel—a fourteen-year-old girl with more spirit than you ever had at that age. You admire her spunk, her unwillingness to take shit from either of the boys. It entertains you endlessly.

“How do you deal with them?” she mutters to you. You learn that her name is Riko Amanai. She loves the ocean and has a sweet tooth like Satoru. Her favorite flavor is anything blue.

“I keep them in check.”

“Are you my bodyguard too?”

“Not really,” you laugh. “But I’ll be around.”

Riko likes you. She clings to you more than you anticipate, considering this isn’t your mission, but you understand. She’s vulnerable despite her confidence in her fate as Tengen’s vessel. Talks a big game with blue eyes shining bright, similar to Satoru. 

She pouts at your absence. You think nothing of it, knowing that she’s in good hands between the boys and that caretaker of hers. The bounty on the girl’s head is daunting, but the boys are the strongest, and you watch them evade the enemies easily. 

It’s when they end up in Okinawa that something in your chest feels a bit empty. A bad omen, anxiety pooling in your gut. 

Satoru texts you pictures from the beach—sea creatures from the ocean and the aquarium, selfies with Suguru that are often blurry. He texts you how much he misses you, how much he craves the parts of you that you think may be too intimate to even talk about out loud, let alone through text. Suguru sends you pictures of Riko and Satoru on the beach with the creatures they pick up from the ocean, of sunsets he knows you would enjoy.

You ache for their return. 

satoru: gonna stay for another day jsyk

you: having fun?

satoru: yeaaaa

satoru: tired as fuck though

satoru: but riko likes the beach. thought we could give her one more day

you: you’re sweet

satoru: not as sweet as uuuuuuuuu

satoru: she says hi btw

satoru: shes mad ur not here

you: she likes me more than you

satoru: >:(

you: i’ll see you soon. get some sleep please

satoru: anything for u baby

Something has gone terribly wrong. 

You have no reason to be worried—Satoru is more than capable of handling that assassin, no matter how swift his movements may be. It was whiplash to see a sword go through him, and it was whiplash to see Satoru react like it was a paper cut.

Now, in the Tombs of the Star, you feel a chill run up your spine as you escort Kuroi out. She’s still emotional, wiping tears after her goodbye to Amanai. Trepidation strikes you the same way it did in that forest all those months ago. The air has grown cold, but you can’t sense any other cursed energy but your own.

“Kuroi,” you breathe.

“Yes?” She sniffles, wiping her tears quickly.

“Go on without me,” you say cautiously. “I think I better guard the Tomb just in case. For Geto.”

“Alright. Thank you for being there for them.” Kuroi smiles at you with a warmth you aren’t sure that you deserve.

“I wasn’t the one protecting her.”

“I know, but she admired you a lot. We missed you in Okinawa.”

You pull her into a hug, one that you wish you’d given Riko moments prior. It’s a parting gift. 

When she departs, you’re left alone in a dark hallway. You expect a spirit to jump out — something monstrous, an amalgamation of your nightmares. But this is a sacred place, you suppose. One meant for sacrifices and blessings. You’ve never really believed in blessings. The world is built on too many curses for that.

Something in the air made you want to choke, swallow back bile. Nothing like your old anxiety spells. It’s something else, you’re sure of it. And yet, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The rustle of fabric. 

He couldn’t go undetected, not completely. Not when your intuition was on overdrive, making you sick with it. Your senses acute. 

“Haven’t seen you before.”

His voice is raspy, the sound of skinned palms on pavement. Deep the way Japanese whiskey burns down and sits in your stomach a little too heavy. There’s a split on the corner of his mouth as if he’d been nicked by a thorn. He smiles at you with lazy, bovine eyes and a snake-like smirk. 

This man is not a figment of your imagination — he’s real as can be as he towers over you, yet there’s not a lick of cursed energy you can feel, even when you’re this close to him. A human.

You think about Satoru and the sword that went through his chest. You look at the sword that the stranger in front of you wields. Within a second, you rush to touch him, but your technique doesn’t activate as soon as you want it, too. He slashes you across the stomach, crimson permeating the torn fabric of your uniform.

“Weak little girl,” he chides. “You’re too pretty to kill, though.”

You gag, nearly vomiting on the ground. 

“You their girlfriend or what? Would’ve thought they were fucking each other, to be honest.”

You shake your head weakly, your vision blurring already. You hear a bark of a laugh. Not even your bared teeth can be taken seriously, not when you’re bleeding out on the ground. He tuts as if he’s scolding you.

“He’ll kill you,” you hiss. The man laughs again. You must be referring to one of your boys. He grins wider when he realizes. 

“Which one? The one with the bangs?” he scoffs. “Because I already killed the Gojo brat, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart drop, sinking like an anchor as the feeling drags your body down with it. You look at him with wide eyes, and the sadistic stare you get back tells you he wants to humiliate you. It would hurt less if he just killed you.

Satoru would never die by the hand of a non-sorcerer. Not a fucking chance. But the notion doesn’t stop the itch behind your nose, your eyes threatening tears. The man crouches, his face looking down at you in mock sympathy, and places a rough palm to your face, swipes your quivering bottom lip. You taste blood.

You clutch his wrist immediately and he raises his hand.

Something metal whips the side of your face, something heavy. Your sight of vision narrows into black.

When you wake, you aren’t sure if you’ve arrived in a nightmare or had just left one.

For one, Satoru is saturated in blood. The scratches on his face are brutal. He looks half feral, half shell-shocked. It’s nothing you’ve seen before.

Despondency paints Suguru’s face into a shadow of himself. There’s something off about their cursed energy.

You don’t want to ask them how the rest of the mission went — you can already tell what the answer might be. If everything went according to plan, there wouldn’t be a blank stare in each of their eyes. If everything was fine, they would return to you like themselves — animated and flirty and teasing. If everything was the way it was meant to be, maybe you wouldn’t have the slight scar of a side wound aching at the side of your gut.

Instead, they’re all business. It’s like they look through you when they speak to you.

“Is Riko…” you trail off.

“She’s dead,” they say.

They deliver the news to you, expressionless. Mirroring each other.

There’s a blankness in Satoru’s eyes. Cold. No one exactly knows how to deal with being killed only to bring yourself back again. The thought of his mangled body surrounded by flyheads makes your stomach churn. 

He had always been god-like, prodigal. After being reborn, he really was a God. Untouchable. You’d think him to be cockier or more cruel, but on the surface, he’s devoid of anything, really. He’s stony-eyed, instead, a little empty behind the face. There’s a spark of something when he sees the large bruise on your cheekbone and the ghost of a slash on your rib.

He won’t say much about the man who killed him. Only that he had no cursed energy and a son. You remember a scar bending with the curve of a mouth and sharp green eyes.

It’s quiet at Jujutsu Tech afterward. Yaga continues classes like he always does, and all of you do your best. There are fewer missions that are being demanded of you. You think it’s because of the failed mission. Despite this, Satoru takes on whatever he can, even volunteering for the tougher ones just so he can let off some steam. Suguru often tags along with him, leaving you alone to sulk.

You don’t think you have any reason to sulk. It’s not like you were killed, anyway.

You feel them both pulling away. You don’t bother to pry — they at least seem to be occupied with each other. They were best friends before you ever got close to either of them. You knew your place. You’d give them space, knowing the gravity of the trauma they’d experienced on the mission, and yet your heart ached all the same. It was a familiar hurt, the same you’d felt in high school about Satoru. It was only peculiar now because those feelings applied to both of them.

But then there are times when Satoru sneaks into your room like he always does. He likes to nip at your shoulder with teeth that feel sharper, meaner. Hand around your throat, the calluses squeezing flesh. He likes to pin you down to the mattress, likes to hear the squeak of the bedframe as he fucks into you mercilessly.

Suguru takes you, too, but not so desperately, not so obviously. He lures you in, instead. You realize that he’s different than Satoru in the way that he has the patience for games. It explains the teasing, the touching. He’ll have you wrapped around his finger just from talking to you, and within the hour, he’ll be fucking into your soaked cunt in the locker rooms after sparring.

You suppose this is the way they both let out their frustrations, how they cope with the trauma of losing Riko. They were tightlipped about her. 

Both of them had changed in ways that were beyond your comprehension.

Satoru gets colder. Similar to the way he was in high school, when he barely acknowledged you. He doesn’t like to look at you for very long, as if the mere fact of his gaze on you would hurt him, hurt you. It was stupid. He didn’t care about your fragility before, so what point was there to care about it now?

Suguru is mostly the same, just quieter. Hell, he’d always been quiet, other than the times he’d fuck you or when you’d be alone with him. His sarcastic streak was weaker. He touched you less.

You can’t stand any of it.

Satoru isn’t meant to be someone so vulnerable. It’s out of character for him. 

You soothe his nightmares when he wakes you up in the middle of the night clutching your waist with nails digging into the skin underneath your shirt. He’s always shaking, always mumbling something nonsensical.

Selfishly, you find that it feels nice to be needed. To be his only form of salvation during these times.

In his waking moments, Satoru is himself again. Belligerently so, with his recklessness. It’s up to you and Suguru to tame him, often. Satoru is almost a different version of himself – familiar and still annoying — but he is much more adamant about his power, nowadays. A God complex in the making.

Satoru gets greedier. He likes to wake you up with his nose nudging your clit, tongue already making a mess of your hole. No amount of pushing his head away with your hand would make him stop, though you blame yourself for indulging.

He likes to tease you for the semblance of control. You suspect that beyond playing with you, he finds solace in Suguru, instead. They aren’t particularly shy about it—sometimes you walk into Satoru’s dorm and find them entangled with one another, clothes off and warm to the touch. They always welcome you into their arms, forcing you in between them. 

You feel like you’re at an arm’s length from them at all times despite this. 

November, 2009

You settle on a routine. It’s less than pleasant, but you’re used to it. Convincing yourself that it’s normal, at least.

Yaga puts you on more solo missions — you’ve improved your technique. The precision of it is tough, always a wildcard given the unpredictability of destruction beneath your fingertips. Regardless, it’s gotten better. It doesn’t traumatize you so much to be a vehicle of decay anymore. You’re numb to it.

It’s odd — you’re carrying the burden of something you didn’t experience. Satoru finds that you are a mirror for Suguru, the same temperament and all. Always leaving the party to smoke cigarettes together. It doesn’t make him pissy necessarily, but it makes him pout. Clingy to the both of you.

“Stop being antisocial,” he whines.

You and Suguru look up at him in question. He had followed you out of the party when you saw Satoru’s hand on the waist of a girl you didn’t recognize. It was nothing, probably, but it wasn’t something you had ever had to deal with. It wasn’t like he could pry anything out of you, anyway.

“We’re not,” you defend, waving a cigarette around. “It’s too hot in there.”

It was true, to be fair. You were too warm in there and the outside air was nice. That, and you figured that Suguru would follow you, and he always wanted to steal you away for kisses.

Satoru had technically intruded on that, interrupting the moment Suguru had pulled away from your mouth. He eyes you wearing Suguru’s jacket and softens.

“You wanna go home, don’t you?” he asks.

“I can stay if you want,” you shrug.

He sighs. “Can you guys at least hang out with me?”

“Needy,” Suguru teases, stomping the butt of his cigarette on the ground and ushering you in between the sliding glass doors, hand on the small of your back. He nips at Satoru’s neck on the way in. 

As if in apology, you don’t leave Satoru’s lap for the rest of the night. You don’t really get to. He even follows you to the bathroom and considers taking you over the counter for the hell of it.

It’s been difficult to touch you, lately.

In late August, the Zen’in outcast had killed him. Satoru had never thought of death as an option that was even possible. It’s why his mind was frenzied in his last moments, panicked as the two of them were surrounded by fly heads. He had not anticipated death, hadn’t anticipated the impact of it, how Suguru would have to return his corpse to Jujutsu Tech. How you would be shedding overflowing tears.

He’d like to think that your face or Suguru’s was in his mind when he took his last breath, but truthfully, he doesn’t remember. His mind was blank.

And when he had risen from the dead and shot a lethal hole through Toji Fushiguro, his mind was blank then, as well. The euphoria had faded. He had fulfilled the ordained role of a boygod, his hands were bloody, and he killed a man who would leave behind a son. He thought of his supposed immortality, his transcendence beyond something human, and then he thought of you.

You were the most human thing about him.

Your warmth, the flush in your cheeks. The way he had taken you back when you were in school, none the wiser about the world of curses. Sometimes he thinks you are one. 

It wasn’t meant to go this far, but he had taken the leap and continued to wade in the pool of it all. He does not think of love when he thinks of his family, but he thinks of love when he sees you and Suguru. Something beating, something alive.

It was why he was constantly tipping the line between overflowing completely and being numb — Satoru was no stranger to his indulgences. You, on the other hand, were something else entirely. Fragile underneath his hands. Sometimes, he didn’t even think it was worth it to keep you in the bear trap he had set for you.

And then Suguru would kiss away your tears when Satoru was too rough, too cold, and he would succumb to his desires again. Instead of being something akin to a god, he often dreamt about being ordinary. 

Maybe if his birth didn’t throw the planet off its kilter, he could truly be good to you instead of wanting to cut you open and live inside of you. Satoru would always be safe in your skin, but he had started to doubt that you would ever be safe in his.

You were the first to know him, he thinks. You had met him as a child and didn’t assume his divinity, rather, you were oblivious to it. Even as a little servant, you refused to kiss his feet. It relieved him. Satoru knew you always meant more to him than a toy, but in his emerging adulthood, he had taken you as a form of escapism and couldn’t cut you off. You had fastened yourself to him like an extra limb unknowingly. 

“I don’t get how you can be so overbearing to her yet so distant at the same time,” Suguru remarks. 

Satoru makes a face, scrunching his nose.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to,” Satoru says blankly.

“The teasing goes too far. And you get insensitive because you’re a prick, and then you barely text her back when you’re on missions.”

Satoru scoffs, fiddling with the pencil he twirls in his hands. Suguru was right, he supposed. He noticed you were a little hollow, all blank stares. Sleeping in while Satoru did not sleep at all. 

“They’ve gotten harder lately. And it’s not like I’m–”

“Not what?” Suguru snorts. “Her boyfriend?”

Satoru says nothing to this. Instead, he tackles Suguru onto his bed, slides his palms underneath his shirt and up the smooth planes of his abdomen. He sighs, setting his head on Suguru’s chest.

“It’s not like she cares.”

“She does. She loves you.”

Satoru’s face reddens as if what Suguru says isn’t fact. On Satoru’s end, however – his feelings for you were an understatement. Calling it love seemed fruitless. He’d like to be fused with you, never letting you go. Stuck in the bliss of your skin kissing his in the early mornings forever.

“Think something got knocked loose when I died,” Satoru mumbles, his eyes blank.

Suguru looks at him in question, not following.

“I’ll make it up to her.”

January, 2010

“What are you getting Suguru for his birthday?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs, a blue raspberry lollipop filling up the hollow of his cheek. Tongue matching the blinding saturation of his eyes. “A blowjob?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t be homophobic! You like watching.”

“I’m serious,” you roll your eyes.

“We’ll take him out,” he grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. Always stupidly attractive, his beauty borderline mythological.

You knew he was lying, knew that he would be away on that Wednesday, that his calendar was always filled a month prior with what the higher-ups needed from him. You thought it was unfair, given that he was still only a second year, though you still knew better. The glaring truth of his strength ever since the failed Star Plasma Vessel mission was conspicuous, a reminder that started to become egregious to you. 

Satoru takes some of your takoyaki in unspoken amusement with you rolling your eyes, passing the tray towards him. He pouts despite the gesture, reaching over to poke you in the cheek.

“That can’t taste good with all the sugar in your mouth.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You fixate on the television. Satoru had gotten lucky recently, convincing Yaga to convert one of the common rooms with the connected bathroom into a dorm for himself. He had the Gojo money to “donate”, and he’d been on his best behavior in the past few months, which was rare. It wasn’t like Yaga really gave a fuck about their boarding situation as long as the missions went smoothly. 

The room was big enough to fulfill that dream of pushing two beds together. A TV set and dingy couch to match. He needed the TV to fall asleep at night, especially if you weren’t there to stroke his hair. It was the only light source beyond a Hello Kitty lava lamp that Suguru had gotten him as a joke gift.

Satoru had recently started an obsession with Godzilla for some reason, forcing you to watch one every few days before bedtime. You were going in order since Christmas – tonight was the one versus Hedorah.

“You never look at me anymore,” he whines.

“What are you talking about?”

You’d rather say something biting, like how it was the other way around. How he’s been shoving your face into the mattress. How you’d come back to your dorm and see Satoru in between Suguru’s legs without much acknowledgment to you until he’d finish. 

“You look at me like I’m a mosquito bite or something. What’s wrong? You don’t think I’m pretty anymore?” he grins, settling his cheek into his palm.

“Not at all. You’re hideous,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. The remark earns you a light kick to your shin under the table.

“Wow. Rude. Personally, I think you’re God-sent.”

“I thought you wanted me to watch this movie,” you mutter, trying not to let him know how much his comment affected you. You always flushed when he said things like that still, and it would always be out of the blue.

“You know I like talking during movies.”

“Right. It’s one of your worst qualities,” you sigh.

The pillows around you are discarded when he suddenly pins you down to the carpet, your face right next to an old ash stain from one of Shoko’s cigarettes. He grins as he parts your mouth with the pad of his thumb, and you’re as obedient as you always are. There’s a ribbon of saliva from his mouth stretching as he takes the lollipop from his tongue to yours. 

It wasn’t difficult to get his dick hard, really. He’d known that ever since he’d seen you sprawled on the grass next to the track field when you were fourteen, the way your chest was heaving and your underwear was just slightly visible underneath your gym shorts when you parted your legs. 

Satoru thinks you’d laugh in his face if he’d told you about all the times he thought about you when you were teenagers despite the fact that he didn’t speak to you at all. He knows that he would deserve it.

It’s funny. He used to resent you then. He knew he could have you if he’d simply tried a bit harder, if he didn’t so abruptly toss you aside in middle school. Even so, you were everywhere for him—in his dreams, in his house against your will like a chained ghost. Back then, he hated that he loved you, hated that you were weak, hated that, at least besides Suguru, nobody knew him except you.

He wonders briefly if he was high on the taste of you or if the candy is laced with something— he wouldn’t be surprised, since Shoko and Suguru were enablers for the two of you even when you tried to be responsible. It didn’t matter anyway. Your body always made him this frenetic.

It’s when his fingers graze the heat of your cunt that Suguru barges in. He blinks at the two of you entangled on the floor and merely laughs.

“You guys just started?”

“Mmmf,” Satoru grunts. His hand’s wrapped around your neck, now, and your eyes are closed. 

Suguru’s musk fills the room. White pine and sugary maple — he’d used Satoru’s deodorant before the mission. There’s still a blood splatter under his cheekbone the color of ripe plums. This was the usual weekend routine. Mindless fucking with a movie in the background. At least one of you would be too exhausted to muster up the energy to go into the city. It was easier to indulge inside, especially when the temperature kept dipping.

Your eyes flutter as Satoru bites your neck down to your collarbone. When you look toward the couch, you see Suguru with a plastic baggie of something you don’t recognize.

“What’s that?”

“Shrooms.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” Satoru quips, his hand digging into your hip. 

“There are some freaks in Akihabara,” Suguru shrugs. He eats the mushrooms like they’re crumbs at the bottom of a chip bag. “Got this shit after my mission in a fucking vending machine outside a love hotel. Can you believe it?”

“What, did you get a room there or something?” Satoru snorts. “Whore.”

“Why would I, when I can home to this?” Suguru’s eyes are viper-like, serpentine as he smiles lazily. You’d eat from his palm if he asked you to. In sickness and health—it was stupid. You crawl to him and you do.

Satoru doesn’t take any. He knows full well that psychedelics fuck with his Infinity, that it would only make his insomnia worse. The last time he’d tried acid, he had nightmares for days, seeing green eyes of a hunter. Blood slashed from a blade to his neck. Flyheads swarming.

The drugs make you giddy. Another hour and the room spins in an orderly fashion, the ceiling dancing around in a kaleidoscopic pulse. Suguru had limited your dose, knew you’d freak the fuck out if your self started to disconnect. He’d been there enough times to despise it. Ego death was torture for the introspective kind.

He sucks a hickey into your neck while you’re mindless. It’s amusing how invested you are in this episode of Sailor Moon. Satoru lays his head on your thigh, playing with you lazily. You’re happy enough to take it, grinding against his hand as Suguru distracts you with a kiss. It’s tender and slow, not unusual for him, but with the two of them together, everything is usually frenzied.

He gets you in his lap, the sacrificial lamb you are. Always eager to walk into the predator’s gaping maw on your own accord because of his beautiful eyes. Suguru is no beast, but there’s something twisted about the way he plays with you sometimes.

He likes you to beg for it, but it’s not the taunting way that Satoru does. Suguru will inch his face close enough to yours to smell the artificial sweetness of your breath, then pull your hair when you lean in to kiss him. He’ll touch your thigh under the table, not unlike Satoru, but his fingers will dance around your core in a way that leaves you unable to speak to your fellow peers.

You wonder if they’ve learned their cruelty from each other. But this time, he’s sweet.

It’s the hallucinogen fogging his brain. It makes him like a teenager in love. Open-mouthed, pawing love handles. You’re wearing Satoru’s t-shirt, something monochromatic and stupidly expensive, and Suguru tears it off of you as his mouth waters.

Coughing, Satoru tilts his head, supports it with elbows on the carpet. His temperament is neutral, teasing even, but for some reason, looking at him makes you sober up to some degree of lucidity that’s sensitive to him. The part of you that wants to please him at all times.

You crawl to him and say his name. It’s child-like. The shrooms make your eyes wide, colors innocence onto your face from the bliss. It reminds him of when you were younger—bruised knees and twigs in your hair from tumbling in the forest with him. Something tugs at his chest.

“You tryin’ to seduce me?” Satoru jeers, tongue licking his teeth. His palm on your face is hot.

You smile and nod. His gaze lowers and he snaps the waistband of your sweats against your hip. Hand on your thigh again, taunting your synapses. You think he’ll take you with his usual ferocity, but he steals your breath with a kiss instead. 

The kiss never ends. Maybe they switch in between, but you don’t notice. Your eyes are shut, tight enough to see phosphenes like a galaxy. Blue and purple bleeding into your irises. You feel them pulling you apart, cock filling you up, hands everywhere.

“Fuck,” someone gasps. Something like groveling, desperate hair pulling.

“Inside,” you beg. “Please.”

Satoru watches, mesmerized. The heat of your body, sweat pooling into the divot above your clavicle—it all makes his mouth water, but he stays still on the couch as Suguru pins you to the floor. It’s the most the Six Eyes has felt in months, for some reason, and he hadn’t even taken anything. He half-wishes he could get his hands on something other than you to inject into his veins—maybe then he could learn to be calm or fall asleep at regular times. Anything to stop the odd ache in his chest whenever he looked at you.

He’s never been a man of God. He was God himself. And then he sees you moan out, bliss-wrecked and flooded with light, burning like seraphim. He’d come back to life a thousand times just to see your face. It made him sick.

Satoru kisses you before you knock out on his bed, eyes half-open and dazed. You’re refusing to go to bed, citing euphoria for your desire to run a few laps. Meanwhile, Suguru is asleep on the couch, fucked out and satisfied. 

You’re coaxed into sleep. It’s not hard once you start rambling, shut up only by the feeling of Satoru’s fingers running across your scalp. He lays awake like he often does, talking to the moon. He sighs as you nuzzle into him, your whole body curling towards him to ward off goosebumps. You’re nearly bare considering you didn’t bother to put on clothes after you and Suguru had finished. 

Satoru pulls the blanket over you, sighing. He’d had the leftover beers in the mini-fridge just to feel a buzz, even the taste of German ales made his nose wrinkle. It still wasn’t enough to put his mind at ease. He stares at the stained carpet, then Suguru’s sleeping shadow, then your face. He shuts his eyes.

It’s been months, yet the memories still cage you. It’s like something wraps its hand around your throat in your subconscious. In each dream, you are aching for their return, and they come to you like newly-bloomed flowers.

It feels like you’ve been waiting for them for centuries, your body stuck in the grass with a bruise over your left eye that doesn’t stop aching. You don’t even know how much you’re bleeding until they return to you again, caressing your sides and pulling away at the sight of a wound. 

Your angels are not dead. It’s enough relief for you to keep going, but they still look at you with furrowed brows. Blood spills from your mouth.

“I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.”

Your angels do not react. They only look at you with concern, shielding you from the blazing sun with their wings. They stare as you laugh, doubling over, falling backwards into the green grass. You only remember that you’re alive when they trace the contours of your body with their fingertips.

Despite the pain, the vision is familiar. You’re too distracted by their beauty, how their mere presence is arcadian in itself. You don’t need anything else. You could die here.

Here, between them and their celestial bodies, in the green, green grass. Spider lilies bloom around you like kisses in blessing as the golden evening swallows you up. There’s a sinking feeling—a literal one, of you descending into the ground in a way that feels like a loose feather falling.

Your angels reach for you until they grasp the whole of you and turn you inside out. They pull apart the mess of you, reshaping you, undoing tangles and knots and bending the stem of your being so you can be reborn in their image. They love you enough to do so.

And when you look back at them with love in your eyes, you flinch. They’re eclipsed by something terrible, too far away for you to reach. It’s bloody. It has a voice like skin scraping pavement, full-bodied whiskey.

You stretch your hand out only meet a sweaty palm. When you open your eyes, a pair of blue ones stare back at you.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Best Laid Plans

Summary: Y/N has a plan to torment Jensen a little. But we all know what they say about the best laid plans.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: It's just smut. 😁 Teasing. Sexting. Slightly dom!Jensen & sub!reader. Semi-public nudity. Orgasm denial (sorta). Masturbation. (sorta). Dirty talk.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: So, I've been planning on writing something with this picture since it was released during JibCon 14. I have no idea what he was talking about, thinking about, or what was being discussed at this moment. So, context has been completely removed in deference to my lust-filled, trash-heap mind. So...enjoy, I hope! 😁❤️

A/N 2: As always this story is about a Jensen from a different part of the multiverse who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

Jensen Ackles RPF Master List || Main Master List

He had plans for you. So. Many. Plans…

You had been teasing him for hours and hours, sending him naughty pics that he tried to ignore, but simply couldn’t. He opened your latest text on stage, knowing it was going to be filthy, but incapable of waiting. He let Misha answer the question while he pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked open the text.

You could see him struggling not to react. 

The photo had been taken from above. That had been a bit tricky to rig up. You’d been afraid someone would come in and think you were some creep trying to take pictures of people in the bathroom. But you’d managed to get the shot without an audience. 

The shot in question was of you in a bathroom stall, leaning against the door. Your tight sweater was pulled up and you gripped one fleshy breast in your hand, squeezing hard. Your short skirt was lifted, hips thrust forward while your hand was buried in your panties. Your head was thrown back, a look of ecstasy on your face, as you touched yourself.

At the bottom, in pink puffy letters, were the words, “Thinking of You.”

From the front row you watched Jensen shift restlessly on the tall stool he sat on, discreetly adjusting his jeans. His gaze found you in the audience, and he leveled a steely look your way. The look said he had plans for you. So. Many. Plans.

It was such a long panel after that. That look had shifted the game between you two. Now it was you who couldn’t sit still, shifting and trying to subtly press your thighs together. Every once in a while, Jensen stared you down again with another heated look and your core muscles clenched and your stomach almost ached with want. 

You’d never felt so empty, you were desperate to have him fill you up, and by the time the panel ended you were practically panting. You rose with everyone as they left to go to photo ops with the boys. But when you walked out of the auditorium, Jensen was there.

People shouted out greetings and he smiled and gave them a wave, but he quickly ushered you down the hallway, his hand possessively resting on the small of your back and propelling you forward.

He pushed you into an empty conference room. It was much smaller than the hall you’d come from, but still spacious. But when Jensen clicked the lock on the door, it seemed to shrink to a very tiny space, consisting of only the two of you and the air you breathed.

Jensen turned to face you and that same look was back in his eye. You let out a nervous giggle, anticipation singing in your veins. 

“Did you like the pictures?” You asked coyly.

Jensen smirked and shook his head. “Think you’re pretty funny, don’t you, baby? Trying to distract me on stage? Make me stumble over my words? Make me fight to stay calm? To do my damnedest not to get a fucking hard on in front of everyone?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, it was fun. You should have seen your face.”

That expression was back, the one that said he was going to ruin you; god knew your panties were already ruined.

Jensen tilted his head and a devilish smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t you recreate that last picture for me now?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jensen’s voice was low and demanding, “go lean against that wall and pose for me. Just exactly how you did in that bathroom.”

You shook your head. The point had been to make him hot and bothered so he wouldn’t wait, wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you stupid the second he was off stage.

You started to protest. “But I-”

“Now.” His voice didn’t get any louder, but it was firm and hard and brooked no argument.

With butterflies in your stomach you moved over to get into the pose. Nerves made your hands shake as you lifted your sweater up and slid down a bra strap so you could pull out your right breast. 

Suddenly you were wondering; how strong was that door lock? How many people had keys? 

God! What if they have cameras monitoring the room? You thought frantically. 

But despite those worries you did as Jensen said, raising your skirt and slipping your right hand into your panties as your left hand crossed your body to take your tit into your palm and squeeze. 

A soft cry fell from your lips as your sensitive nipples reacted to the pressure.

“Perfect.” Jensen said quietly.

He moved over to pull a chair out from one of the tables, and sat down on it, crossing his legs to rest his ankle on his other knee. He folded his arms over his chest and just stared at you for nearly a full minute. You began to tremble slightly under his scrutiny. 

“Jensen?” You asked softly, slightly confused with his plan now.

Jensen held a finger up to his lips. “Shh! No talking sweetheart. I want you to show me what you were doing in that stall. Touch yourself. Rub your clit and tug on your nipple.”

“But I thought, I mean I want you to fuck me.” Your voice was a whine.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “I know what you want, baby. But you spent all morning and afternoon teasing me, so you don’t deserve to be fucked just yet.” He nodded at you. “Now, do as I say.”

With a little whimper you followed his instructions, rubbing your middle finger in circles on your clit and tugging roughly on your breast. Your breath caught as you chased your high and your head thumped back against the wall as you panted out your need. 

You started to slip your finger into your opening, but Jensen shook his head. “No!” He barked out. “I didn’t say you could fuck yourself. I said to touch yourself.”

You moaned out your misery. “I’m so empty, Jensen, please. I need you, need your cock to fill me up.” Your hips fucked the air, as your finger twirled around your clit. 

"Aww, poor baby.” Jensen teased you with a wicked smile. “Are you uncomfortable? Can’t find satisfaction when you’re aching for it? That must be tough.”

You knew you deserved the torture for all your impish delights throughout the day, but you still whimpered as you continued the torment on yourself.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and you squeaked, pulling your hand out of your panties and starting to adjust your clothes, but Jensen held up his hand, finger raised. “Don’t even think about it. Stay the way you were.”

“Jensen!” You whispered loudly.

He shot you a look that said, “obey” and you could only comply, resuming your previous position.

Jensen walked to the door and opened it slightly. Thankfully you could stay hidden on the other side of it.

The person on the other side sounded rushed. “Jensen, you’re supposed to be at your photo ops. They’re waiting for you.”

Jensen nodded. “K, give me just a second.” He closed the door and walked towards you. He reached forward and pushed your hand aside to rub you through your panties. You bit your lip hard to keep from moaning.

“I’ve gotta go, sweetheart. But I want to see you in this exact position when I get back.”

Your eyes got round and wide. “What? You can’t leave me here like this!” You squeaked at him in a pseudo-whisper. 

But he ignored you. “If I come back and you’ve moved, I’ll make sure you don’t come for days, I promise you that.”

“Jensen.” You whined. The idea of being left in this room, half naked and waiting for him to come back, had your slick dripping down your inner thigh.

He took his hand away from you and then leaned forward to kiss you swift and hard. He trailed his lips across your jaw and then whispered into your ear, his breath hot. 

“Can’t let my naughty girl get away with anything, can I? Be good, be patient, and when I get back in an hour, I’ll bend you over that table and fuck you till you can’t walk.”

He pulled back to see your face, and then bent forward and licked your lips open, kissing you again, deeper and more lingering. Before you could really be satisfied with it though, he stepped back from you.

He gave his head a shake. “God, I fucking love you like this, sweetheart. All desperate and dripping, and just aching for my cock.” He groaned lightly. “Trust me, this is gonna hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.”

With that he spun away from you and walked out the door, leaving you there to try and figure out just how your plan had backfired so magnificently.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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[goldfades]

✮ 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞, jump then fall au

au masterlist! masterlist!

♡ ─ word count | 2.7k

♡ ─ summary | cece has been working for adam for a month, forming a bond with paloma. she comforts paloma during a tantrum and later helps adam when paloma won't stop crying, late into the night. they discover the meaning of paloma's name as they bond over it.

♡ ─ warnings | toddler tantrums, sleep-deprivation LMAO, um nothing else (i think)

♡ ─ taglist | @literatureluster @itsnotgray @valluvsu (fill in form in my navigation in you are interested!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | after weeks of writer's block, we GOT OVER IT. war is overrrrr, finally. we survived the great war. anyways, this chapter is so sweet and i love it so much. i also realized my love for adam is very much eternal and undying, i will love him more than anyone else 4ever and idc. should i start a go-fund-me so i could get his jersey?? help a broke college student get her fav hockey player's jersey✊🏼✊🏼 also happy spooky seasonnnnn!!!

also if anyone has au thoughts please send them in for my entertainment, i love love LOVE asks.

It had been a month since Cece had started working for Adam and she has loved every second of it.

Well, maybe not every second but Paloma was the sweetest girl she's ever worked for. She was funny and easy to work with, unlike some of the other kids she's worked with. Cece had quickly adapted to the rhythm of the new job, finding ways to connect with Paloma and make their time together enjoyable and overall fun. She had become an big part of Adam and Paloma's daily routine, and it was clear to everyone that Paloma adored Cece.

Cece was sitting comfortably on the floor next to Paloma, watching her favorite movie, "Beauty and the Beast" for the fifth time she couldn't help but smile at the toddler's enthusiasm. Paloma's eyes were glued to the screen, and she occasionally mimicked the characters' actions or lines with her limited vocabulary, making Cece laugh in the process. She was adorable, her heart melted with every little word she mimicked.

As Belle and the Beast danced in the iconic ballroom scene, Paloma attempted to mimic their graceful movements, stumbling slightly in her excitement. Cece chuckled and gently held Paloma's hand, helping her "dance" along with the characters.

She laughed as Paloma kept her dance up, "You're doing good, sweetheart!"

Paloma beamed happily at Cece's words of encouragement. Her tiny feet shuffled clumsily on the floor as she continued to "dance" with Belle and the Beast. It was a sweet sight, and Cece couldn't help but feel a deep affection for the little girl.

Right as the dance ended, the apartment door had opened. "I'm home!" Adam's voice rung out through the entire apartment. As he walked into the living room, he smiled at the scene in front of him.

"Hey," Cece greeted him with an equally bright smile as him, still sitting on the floor next to Paloma, who had now shifted her attention from the movie to her dad's arrival.

Adam bent down and scooped Paloma up into his arms, eliciting giggles from the toddler. "Did you have a fun day with Cece, sweetheart?"

It was sight she had grown used to now, Adam and Cece had become a staple in her life even if it only has been a month. She couldn't help but feel like she was a part of the family, somehow, even if she wasn't exactly blood-related.

Paloma nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Daddy, dance!" she exclaimed, her arms moving in an attempt to recreate the dance moves she had just seen on the screen.

Adam laughed, sharing an amused look with Cece. "You've been dancing, huh?"

Cece nodded, her smile warm. "She was quite the dancer, just like Belle."

Adam chuckled as he watched Paloma's attempts at dancing. "I see that. Thanks for keeping her entertained, Cece."

"No problem," Cece replied, a light tint of blush coming onto her cheeks. Adam continued to play with Paloma, making her giggle and laugh. Cece watched the father-daughter duo with a fond smile, her heart warmed by the sweet scene before her.

After a quick lunch, Adam had to go back for a team meeting so Cece had to stay with Paloma a bit more, which usually wouldn't have been a problem ─ except now, Paloma had suddenly decided to have a tantrum because of her father leaving.

Cece tried her best to soothe Paloma as Adam prepared to leave for his meeting. She understood how difficult it could be for a toddler when their parent had to leave, especially when they were as attached as Paloma wa.

As Adam headed towards the door, Paloma's cries grew louder, and she reached out for him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Cece held Paloma close, trying to comfort her. "It's okay, sweetie. Daddy will be back soon."

Adam paused at the door, his heart aching as he looked back at his daughter. He wanted to stay and comfort her, but he also knew he had responsibilities. "I'll be back soon, sweetheart," he reassured her, his voice filled with love. "Cece will take care of you."

Cece nodded at that and gave him a quick nod, gesturing for him to leave. He sighed and nodded, exiting the apartment as Paloma's cries continued for a while. Cece did her best to distract her with toys and games, hoping to ease her distress until Adam returned.

They played with her building blocks, read some of her favorite books, and even had a little tea party with her stuffed animals. Slowly but surely, Paloma's tears began to subside, replaced by the occasional hiccup.

Cece kept a watchful eye on the time, knowing that Adam would return from his meeting soon. She didn't want Paloma to be too upset when he got back. As they continued to play, she whispered comforting words to Paloma. "Daddy will be back before you know it, sweetheart. He loves you very much."

Paloma, still a bit sniffly, looked up at Cece with her big blue, teary eyes and nodded. Cece couldn't help but smile at the toddler's resilience. Paloma gave her a whine and gave reached out her arms towards her, gesturing for her to pick her up.

Cece gladly picked Paloma up and held her close, cradling her gently in her arms. Paloma's sniffles gradually turned into contented sighs as she rested against Cece's shoulder.

──

Cece awoke with a jolt as she felt Paloma being carried from her arms and Cece almost screamed until she realized it was just Adam. Relief washed over her as she blinked away the remnants of sleep, "Shit, you scared me."

"Sorry," Adam laughed softly, his voice filled with warmth as he held Paloma against his chest. "I'm back. How was my little princess while I was gone?"

"She was, um... she was good." Cece yawned, her eyes watering at that. Sudden embarrassment washed over her as she realized that she fell asleep on the job but before she had the chance to apologize, it seemed he had read her mind.

"Don't apologize, I get it." Adam offered Cece a reassuring smile as she nodded, gratefully.

"Thank you," she laughed softly as she got up from the sofa, standing in front of him. She never really realized just how tall he was but suddenly, she felt like he was towering over her. Sudden butterflies emerged in her stomach as she looked up at him and they gazed at one another.

"Well─"

"I─"

They both spoke in union before they paused, looking at one another for a second until they laughed. God, they were so in sync. "You, um, you go first," Adam smiled down at her, Paloma looking very pleased with the scene before her.

"I was just gonna say, I have a Chem test tomorrow and I haven't studied for it," she explained groggily, exhaustion clear in her face.

Adam couldn't help but feel disappointment building in his stomach as he heard those words come out of her mouth. "Oh, yeah of course. Go, don't worry, I'll take of our Paloma." It had come out so naturally he almost didn't catch it. Our Paloma. It sounded so... perfect and Adam could feel himself getting used to staying it, our Paloma, our girl.

Luca's words kept repeating in his mind as he waited for her response, "No girls." But as he stared into her eyes, her big, beautiful, deep─

"Yeah, our Paloma," she repeated softly, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Adam."

"Of course, no problem. Um, get home safe and good luck on your test tomorrow."

As soon as she reached the door, Paloma whined. You looked back at Adam knowingly as Paloma started reaching for Cece.

"Hey, hey." Adam started trying to distract Paloma which did nothing but make it worse, somehow. "Princess, it's alright, she's coming tomorrow."

Paloma's whines grew louder as she continued to reach for Cece, her little arms outstretched. Adam didn't know what to do; she usually stopped crying after he comforted her, but this time, it seemed she only wanted Cece.

Cece hesitated at the door, torn between her responsibilities and the adorable toddler who clearly didn't want her to go. She looked at Adam with a questioning expression, silently asking for his help.

"It's fine, Cece. I can deal with her." Adam's voice was gentle, and he tried to hide any disappointment he felt about the situation. He walked closer to Cece, giving her an understanding smile. "You should get some rest and study for your test. I've got this."

Cece sighed in relief at Adam's understanding. She bent down and gently placed a kiss on Paloma's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," she whispered softly to the toddler before reluctantly stepping out of the apartment.

Adam watched her go, feeling a mixture of gratitude and disappointment. He knew that Cece needed to focus on her studies, but a part of him wished she could stay. He turned his attention back to Paloma, who was still crying in his arms.

"It's just you and me, kiddo," he said with a soft smile, carrying the crying Paloma back to the living room. He was determined to make the evening as comforting (as he could) for his daughter.

As the night wore on, Adam did his best to comfort Paloma. He played with her, read her a bedtime story, and even sang her a lullaby, but nothing seemed to calm her down completely. The toddler's cries continued, growing more tired and desperate as the hours passed.

He felt like he didn't know Paloma anymore, he spent less time with her than he had done in the past. Was he being a terrible dad by prioritizing his career over Paloma? He didn't know, he felt truly helpless as his ears began to sore from the constant crying from his daughter.

It was around 1 am when Adam realized he was at his wit's end. Paloma had been crying for hours, and he was exhausted and frustrated. He felt like he was going to go insane, especially because none of his family was here to give him a break. That was until he remembered: Cece.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text message to Cece, his fingers typing quickly.

Adam: Hey, sorry to bother you, but Paloma won't stop crying, and I don't know what to do.

He felt guilty for even asking, knowing Cece probably has her own worries and problems. But he truly had no one else to turn to, his body sore from practice and he was fatigued from all the crying, on top of everything.

His phone started buzzed almost immediately and he looked at the caller ID: Cece was calling him. He slid to answer,

"Cece, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No, I've been up." Cece laughed through the speaker. But Adam could hear the exhaustion in her laugh, as much as she tried to hide it.

The guiltiness hit him like a truck when he heard her voice. He almost wanted to cry, "I'm sorry, Cece. I just had... no one else to call who I trusted."

That statement made Cece's heart swell. He trusted her? "Oh, Adam don't apologize. That's what I'm here for. Do you want me to come?"

"No, no. It's too late and I don't want anything to happen."

Another soft laugh escaped her before she started hearing some crying from his side. She was almost concerned, thinking it was him until it registered in her sleep-deprived mind that it was just Paloma. "I'm a big girl Adam, I'll be there in 10."

Before he could protest, she hung up and Adam let out an exhausted sigh before he turned to Paloma, who was still crying. How much tears could one little girl have? Adam thought to himself.

Cece arrived at Adam's apartment right on time, her heart heavy with worry for both him and Paloma. She had come as quickly as she could, not wanting to leave Adam to handle the situation alone any longer. There wasn't any traffic because it was 1 in the morning, the only real plus of this whole thing.

When she entered the apartment, she found Adam sitting on the couch, looking utterly exhausted, with Paloma crying in his arms. She had never seen him so tired, his hair messy and his eyebags visible. Without hesitation, Cece went over and gently took Paloma into her arms.

"Hey there, princess," she cooed softly, rocking Paloma gently. "It's okay, I'm here now. Shhh, it's alright."

Paloma's cries gradually began to subside as Cece worked her magic. Adam watched in awe as the two of them seemed to have an unspoken connection. Cece had gotten Paloma to quiet down after four hours of nonstop crying but Adam was too tired to feel anything but exhaustion. He had been at his wit's end, unable to calm his daughter down, and seeing Cece work her magic with such ease was nothing short of amazing.

"Thank you, Cece," Adam whispered, relief washing over him as Paloma finally began to calm down. He felt a deep sense of gratitude for the young woman who had come to their rescue once again.

Cece smiled warmly at him, despite her feeling just as (if not more) exhausted than him. "No need to thank me, Adam. I'm always here to help." She looked down at Paloma, who was now resting peacefully in her arms. "Besides, I think I've started to become quite attached to her."

Adam couldn't help but chuckle softly at that. He appreciated Cece more than he could express in words. As he looked at her, holding the most precious thing in his world like she was also the most important thing in hers too, he felt his heart do a little loop-di-loop and he couldn't stop it even if he tried.

"Thank you, Cece," he repeated, this time with a warmth and admiration that went beyond words.

"You know, Adam," Cece began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm here not just for Paloma. I'm here for you too."

Adam's heart skipped a beat at her words. It didn't feel like some grand confession, it felt like just a simple fact. And now, as he gazed back at Cece, he no longer questioned if she was responsible or sweet enough for his daughter, he knew it for a fact.

"I know," Adam's voice sounded even more exhausted than before, smiling back at her.

As Paloma fell asleep in her arms, Cece took a seat next to Adam on the couch. They both knew she wasn't going anywhere for at least a couple hours until Paloma is fully asleep, so she got comfortable.

As Paloma fell asleep in Cece's arms, a sense of calm settled over the room. The exhaustion and tension from earlier seemed to fade away, replaced by a peaceful stillness. Adam and Cece sat side by side on the couch, watching over Paloma as she slept.

In the quiet of the room, they didn't need to say much. Their presence was enough, and it felt strangely comforting. It was as if, in that moment, they were a small, makeshift family brought together by circumstances.

Cece was the first to speak up, her voice tired. "Do you know what Paloma means?"

Adam was too tired to say anything but shake his head as she continued, "It means Dove, I looked it up earlier. Isn't that cute?"

Adam had named her after his great-aunt (per request of his mother) but had always liked the sound of it. He had never thought of looking up the meaning but now that he knows, it's perfect. Dove, Paloma, it was just perfect.

Adam smiled at that. "That's so cute. Our little dove." His head fell on Cece's shoulder as he yawned, his eyes feeling heavy. "Dove, that's a cute nickname."

"We should start calling her that." Cece's eyes suddenly felt heavy too as she yawned along with Adam, nodding.

"Dove," Adam repeated softly, a smile playing at his lips. "I like it. Our little Dove."

Cece nodded in agreement, her voice barely above a whisper. "It suits her."

The exhaustion of the long night finally caught up with them both, and they began to drift into a comfortable silence. Adam rested his head on Cece's shoulder, and she gently leaned into him, their shared warmth and the sense of family they had formed providing a profound a great sense of comfort.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Buzzed (Punk! William x Fem! Reader)

Hello hello! I've been writing something super secret behind the scenes of Home Sweet Home. Very much inspired by my dear friend @yellowbunnydreams fic "Bunny Punk", here's my take on punk William. This one is very fun and fluffy, brought on by me still buzzing with dopamine from a concert I went to last weekend. Couple warnings on this one, nothing too crazy. Enjoy, happy holidays, and if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader in early 20's, William in late 40's/early 50's), recreational herb smoking, shotgunning, reader gets groped at the show, very quick and nondescript, some suggestive dialogue, Will being a little bit of a perv but not really (he looks at readers boobs on occasion, but he's not weird about it), use of the term 'good girl', some suggestive flirting but nothing heavy past that, super fluffy, Will and reader are like immediately in love cause I'm soft for the big man, talk of tattoos/piercings, I think that's everything, if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word count: 3,385

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You stood on your toes, anxiously looking around the crowd for your friend that was supposed to meet you at the concert venue. You grimaced at the sight of the packed room, if she hasn't already made her way up here, there was no way she would be able to reach you in order to watch the show together. You turned to face the front, your eyes briefly meeting the man that stood next to you. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and sharp features. Your gaze snapped forward, feeling slightly embarrassed over the fact that he definitely noticed you linger on his massive form from the smirk that spread across his features. “You lost, sweetheart?” Your heart jumped into your throat as he suddenly spoke up behind you. Your attention darted back to him, finding him stooped down to your face height, a playful smile on his lips. “Awfully close to the pit for a little thing like you.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell from his tone that there was no malice behind his teasing, and you definitely weren't about to say no to any of the attention this handsome stranger wanted to give you.

“You're one to talk.” You flash him a sarcastic grin. “You're not worried about breaking a hip?”

He lets out a whistle at your remark. “Feisty, aren't we?” He laughs before sticking his hand out to you. “Will.” Your hand claps into his, giving it a firm shake as you introduce yourself. You curse as someone knocks into you, making you spill your drink down the front of your shirt, hurriedly apologizing as they push their way into the pit. “I'd offer to buy you a new one, but we’d never make it back here if we left for it.” He offers.

“I should be all set, considering my friend never showed up I probably shouldn't drink too much anyways.” You explain as you lean on the railing, the aluminum bar was cold against the exposed skin of your midriff.

“Smart girl.” He remarks with a nod, you found yourself blushing at the subtle praise. “With the amount of shitheads I've seen wandering in here you're definitely better off. I'll make sure to keep an eye out for any trying to pull a move on you, just in case.” He smiles with a wink.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laugh. “But, I should warn you… I might not look like much, but I'm pretty scrappy.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, taking your casual demeanor as a que that you weren't bothered by his company.

“Little thing like you?” He eyes you curiously. “Guess I'll believe it when I see it.” He teases. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you direct your attention back to the stage. You were happy to have a friendly neighbor, especially considering you were alone. You had been to your fair share of shows, due to that you could tell from watching the crowd pile in that things were going to get pretty hectic in here once the first opener started. Your only hope for the night wasn't to break anything.

The moment you had wandered next to William you immediately piqued his interest. He wasn't one to judge a person based on their appearance, he's seen some small people absolutely annihilate others in a pit. He noticed when you were looking around for your friend that you almost seemed a bit nervous, even if you didn't want to admit it. Not to mention he could see the group of men behind you eyeing you like a piece of meat, the sight alone was enough to cause hot annoyance to settle in his chest. If anyone of them pressed their luck and tried to lay a hand on you he would ensure they knew how badly they had just fucked up. “Have you ever seen these guys before?” His eyes trailing over to you, a soft smile on your perfectly pouty lips.

“A few times, yeah.” He apologizes as he pushes into your side to let some people down into the pit. Your skin was warm against his, he couldn't help but notice how tiny your hand looked wrapped around the railing next to his. “You?”

“What?” Your voice cracks slightly as you respond, the tail end of his response muffled by the energetic crowd and your mind growing hazy over the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“Have you ever seen them before?” He repeats with a chuckle.

“No, first time. I've been listening to them for years, but I was always too nervous to come by myself to a show.” You admit awkwardly, bumping the toe of your sneaker off of the cracked, concrete floor.

“Boyfriend not a metal fan?” He asks casually.

“It's not that he's not a metal fan…” You trail off, turning to allow your gaze to meet his. “He just doesn't exist.” You share a laugh at your response. Before you had the chance to take your conversation any further you were interrupted by the screams of the crowd as the venue was plunged into momentary darkness. You braced yourself against the railing, not wanting the surge of people pushing forward to send you flying over the railing of the slightly raised main floor and directly into the pit. Will noticed your slightly pained expression as you were crushed against the metal bar, the man behind you too caught up in the experience to even realize what he was doing. He gave one harsh shove, causing the man to stumble, before shooting him a dangerous look. In between the final opening act and the main performers there was a longer pause in order to give the stagehands time to set everything up.

“How are the ribs?” He asks, noticing you rubbing tenderly at the spot. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that you would have a pretty nasty bruise left behind.

“I think I’ll live.” You chuckle. “Thanks for knocking him out of the way.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm. Your eyes scan over the crowd in the pit, you chew the inside of your cheek as you watch the energetic group with interest. “You know I can always move if you want to go down-”

“I'm fine.” You jump to reassure him. “It looks fun, but I don't think I can…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It's a lot, right?” He smiles. His elbows come to rest on the railing, bringing him face to face with you. You're absolutely mesmerized by his striking silver eyes, your gaze trailing to each of his piercings; a labret, septum, and two barbells on his eyebrow. “I don't blame you, I'd be intimidated too.” He chuckles.Your eyes trailed after the two silver balls tucked neatly against his lip, making him smirk slightly. “Like something you see?” He asks smugly.

“I just didn’t expect a guy your age to have so many piercings.” You shoot back playfully.

“I also have this one.” He sticks out his long, pointed tongue, showing off a small stud. “I used to have my navel pierced in college, I had a Prince Albert too.” Your eyes snapped to his face in pure shock, expecting it to be a joke, yet he was completely serious.

“Brutal.” Your nose scrunches up slightly making him chuckle.

“You’re telling me.” He cringes slightly at the memory. As he looks out over the crowd you take a moment to really look at him. His dark brown hair, streaked with gray, was swept back and neatly trimmed down on the sides and back, his graying beard also incredibly tidy and neatly trimmed. Thin, gold wire framed glasses sat low on his nose. A black shirt stretched tightly over his broad chest and shoulders, the muscles in his back easily visible as he leaned, hunched over next to you. A pair of clean jeans hugged his strong thighs, you simply couldn’t get over just how massive everything about him was. A matching set of biomechanical tattoo sleeves meticulously flowed up his arms, on the inside of one forearm the interlocking gears and pistons were interrupted by the outline of a large kitchen knife, the other showed the head of a rabbit. The designs were so beautiful, you had to stop yourself from reaching out to run your fingers over the intricate line work, whoever drew them out really must have understood machinery for them to turn out so flawlessly. “You can get a closer look, I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” You flush at his sarcastic remark. He moves his arm closer to you, mumbling out “you’re cute.” so quietly you almost missed it over the rambunctious crowd. You traced over the smooth lining, his skin hot under your trembling fingers. The opening guitar chord rumbled in your chest as the main band took the stage, the venue erupting to life once more as they jumped into their first song. Your eyes met Will’s, a glimmer of curiosity behind them at your gentle touch.

“Hey there babe, mind if I squeeze in here.” Your moment with him was interrupted by one of the scumbags William had noticed eyeing you earlier. He went to maneuver past you, hand sliding up to push directly against your plush chest. Your mouth dropped open at him but no sound came out, too stunned by his actions. Will snarled, grabbing the guy by the back of the collar and ripping him backwards, sending him falling to the floor. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his side, his arm wrapping around your back so his hand landed on the railing at your side.

“No fucking manners.” He spits, glaring at the guy and his group of friends as he pathetically scrambles to his feet. The anger in his eyes was enough to make the four immediately back off, even if they did outnumber him there was no question about who would come out on top in that fight. “Are you okay?” His rage immediately flickers to concern as his eyes land on you.

“I owe you after how many times you’ve saved my ass tonight.” You laugh, your pinky hooking with his as you set it down on the railing.

“How about you let me take you out to dinner after we get out of here?” Despite how unwaveringly confident he seemed before you he still couldn’t hide the slight nervous tremor in his voice as he spit out the question. He knew it was a very bold move, christ he was old enough to be your father. But he simply couldn’t push away the thought of how pretty you were. You were so vibrant and full of life; the way you bounced around, dancing to the opening acts, how you laughed at all of his jokes, finding excuses to brush your hand over his arm leaving goosebumps in your wake. Everything about you was perfect. A smile slowly creeped over your lips as you processed his question.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask in response, your voice laced with a flustered giggle.

“Maybe I am.” He smirks. You slowly slide your hand over the top of his, your fingers pushing through his to interlock your hands. Normally you wouldn’t even think about getting this physically close to someone you had just met at a show, but there was something about being around Will that just felt so right.

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” Your eyes flash down to his lips momentarily before you turn your attention back to the stage. The rest of the concert felt like a dream. Will’s strong hands on your waist as you danced along to your favorite songs, you couldn’t help but smirk as you realized his eyes were glued to the soft curve of your ass as you swayed your hips. After the show was over you both stumbled from the venue, your body glowing with a thin sheen of sweat from the heat of being packed inside. You stumble slightly, Will wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest to steady you. “Is there going to be anywhere to eat open this late?” You giggle as he takes your hand and spins you around, a playful smile lacing its way across his lips.

“I know a place, it’s just up the street.” He nods in a direction down the sidewalk. “Care to join me for a walk?”

“I’d love to.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he tugs you in the direction you need to start walking. He hung on your every word as you talked, asking you questions to further prompt you to talk about yourself. You could see the bright neon sign of the diner in the distance, he paused, nodding a silent question to sit on the park bench you had stopped in front of. You sat next to him, folding your hands neatly in your lap. Will swallowed thickly as he watched your breasts squeeze together between your arms, your nipple piercings poking through the thin material of the cropped tank top you wore. He clears his throat as he shrugs out of his thick denim jacket, the inside lined with warm, flannel patterned fleece. Wordlessly, he drapes the coat over your shoulders, your nose fills with the scent of spicy cologne, cheap cigarettes, and expensive bourbon. You can’t help but smile softly as you run your fingers over the neat stitching around the perimeter of one of the many patches that covered the obviously well loved jacket.

“You looked cold.” He sputters out bashfully, his eyes trained on a crack in the sidewalk to avoid trying to catch a glimpse of your piercings again.

You pull the fabric tightly around you, basking in its warmth. “Thank you.” You freeze as your eyes land on him, the two of you had been sitting a lot closer than you had realized. Your nose almost brushed his as you turned to face each other, his lips tantalizingly close, the possibility of kissing him hanging so close you could taste it. You wanted him desperately. Finally meeting a man who seemed confident and sure of himself, who wasn’t trying to pick you up with every ridiculous trick in the book, but somehow managed to win you over in a single evening with nothing but pure charm.

“Could I just reach in that pocket real quick.” You turn slightly, feeling the weight of his hand fall onto your thigh as it slips inside the jacket. He retrieves a small tin, the pungent smell hitting your nose immediately. “You smoke?” He fishes around in his pants pocket for a lighter.

“Cigarettes?” You ask dumbly, trying to pretend you didn’t smell the familiar smell of pot flooding your senses.

“Flower.” He shoots you a knowing glance, you were sure your intrigue had already spread across your face.

“Occasionally.” The word rolls a little too casually off of your tongue.

“Oh, a bit of a bad girl, are we?” The phrasing sent a pang of arousal through your core.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s not like I’m doing anything illegal.” You noticed his eyes had darkened slightly when they met yours, the look alone was enough to have you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“My apologies,” he cocks an eyebrow at you, shooting you a playful smirk. “I should have known you’re a good girl.” A shiver runs up your spine at his provocative tone. He chuckles as he takes one of the joints in the pack between his lips, flicking the lighter and inhaling deeply. He offers the joint to you, leaning back against the bench and tilting his head back to stare up at the star speckled sky. You inhale, the dry taste of the smoke filling your mouth. You copy his motions, holding in your hit as you stare up at the sky. You feel Will’s hand bump against yours, you carefully take it, enjoying the quiet intimacy. You both release your hit at the same time, yours hitting you a lot rougher than you had anticipated, making you cough and hunch over into yourself. “You’re alright.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

“The first couple hits are always rough for me, don’t worry.” You joke, patting his chest.

“Have you ever shotgunned a hit before? It would probably make it less harsh.” You shake your head, your cheeks growing warm at the thought. “You wanna try?” He asks softly.

“Sure.” You squeak in response. He gently guides you to face him, your knees bumping against his. His fingers trail over your jaw, making you shiver. He takes a long, slow drag off of the joint. His eyes meet yours as his face dips in closer to yours, his thumb hooking over his bottom lip, keeping just enough space between your mouths so his lips didn’t end up on yours. Your mind grew fuzzy from how close he was, you felt his nose brush yours as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips grew warm as he pushed the smoke from his mouth into your own, you felt the buzz begin to settle in your head. You took William’s hand in yours, squeezing it softly. You subconsciously trailed after him as he pulled away. You slowly blinked, your vision taking a moment to focus on him. God was he handsome. You exhaled the smoke after a moment, surprised at the lack of burn in your lungs. “Wow.” Will’s hand still rested on the side of your face, his eyes raking over your features as he drank in the sight of you. You looked so small in his arms, your petite frame swimming in his jacket. It took everything he had not to kiss you just then, your soft lips just out of reach. He wondered what it would feel like to have you pressed flush against him, your soft body molding against his.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes finally finding yours. “Again?” 

“Please.” You respond in a shaky breath. His eyes remain locked on yours as he takes another deep inhale of smoke, your mouth falling open before he has the chance to hook his thumb into it. He brushed some loose hair behind your ear, feeling the way your small hand trembled in anticipation as he held it in his own. He slowly released the hit into your mouth, pulling back slightly as he waited for you to exhale. He felt your thumb slowly rub over his rough, calloused hand. Your heavy lidded eyes falling to his lips, wanting to take things further but too nervous to do so on your own. You let out a small gasp as he pushed into you, his head dipping down to allow his lips to find yours. His piercing was shockingly cold against your hot skin, you let out a soft moan as you allowed yourself to melt into him. His fingers slid into your hair, your hands fisted into the soft material of his shirt, pulling him as close to you as you could manage on the narrow bench. You squeak as he nips at your bottom lip, letting out a low growl before kissing you more intensely than before. Your hands roamed his torso, feeling the way his muscles tensed and shifted under your delicate touch made you shiver with a desire to touch more of him. His large hands knead at the soft pudge of your hips, his mouth dominating yours as he completely took charge over the kiss, you became putty in his hands as your brain melted into a puddle. You both separate with a gasp, your shoulders heaving as you bump your forehead against his.

“I guess this is a good time to tell you that I think you’re really pretty.” He smiles. You giggle, your cheeks flushing from all the endorphins surging through your system.

“How about we go grab something to eat, it’ll give me an excuse to kiss you again later.”

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Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki (If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know, thank you for reading!)

[hotteoki]

christmas things with bf skz !

pairing: hyung line skz x reader (no prns used)

genre: fluff, point-form fic, est. rel.

cw: not proofread

wc: 0.9k

notes: merry christmas to anyone who celebrates it, and a happy monday to those who don't! P.S. happy birthday val <3 @kyrjnie

chan (방찬) ~ ice skating

despite having to wait in the long, long, long queue for what feels like centuries just to ice skate in a tiny rink outside the local mall

it's a tradition you and chan do every year

sure, it's not ideal to wait an hour in the freezing cold just to skate for 45 minutes only

but when chan is standing right behind you

helping you wrap your scarf the correct way

zipping your coat all the way up

pulling your beanie that was riding up your head back down

and holding a warm cup of hot chocolate?

you could get past that

besides

it's always funny to watch him flail his arms around like bambi

sometimes you like watching him struggle just to see his frown when you don't help him up

"you don't love me anymore!!!!!"

"if i try to pull you up i'm going to fall down right beside you, chan"

"YOU SHOULD AT LEAST TRY!!!!"

so you do

and to no one's surprise except chan's

you fall down

the little pro skater kids start to get worried when neither of you are able to get up

well you could

if chan didn't attempt to yank on you as support to pull himself back up

why does this man not understand that you are incapable of supporting him to stand back up

it's cute to watch him attempt to recreate one of the figure skating spins tho

i am nawt a figure skater idk the names i'm sawry

you two are just goals goals goals!!!!!!!

minho (민��) - mall intercom announcements

it first happened 4 years ago

it was the most embarrassing moment of your life

minho had suggested the two of you go christmas shopping at the biggest mall in south korea

one second you were holding his hand

the next you're spinning around in the middle of the 2nd floor wondering where the hell your 172cm boyfriend could've wandered off to

you were about to call him until you realise you have his phone after he gave it to you before running off into the toilet

"what if my phone drops into the toilet bowl?!"

you were about to start retracing your steps until you hear your name being announced by the information desk, followed by a "your boyfriend is waiting for you by the information desk at the 3rd floor"

you were so going to kill that man

but that night you think to yourself

killing him isn't enough

no, no

you needed to embarrass him right back

so you held your grudge until next christmas

you mumbled something about a flash sale at a nearby store and that he should find you there after he was done scouring uniqlo and ran off before he could object

you gave yourself a few more minutes before you made the announcement over the information desk

boy, was he mad when he saw the cheeky smile on your face

ever since then, it became a tradition for the two of you to race each other to make the lost person announcement to embarrass the other

it's all fun and games until the worker stares in confusion over thinking either one of you was the other's lost kid

changbin (창빈) ~ take-outs

you don't know why either of you still bother cooking christmas dinner

neither of you can cook

sure, you're a fairly decent baker

but that won't suffice for a christmas dinner

and changbin cannot cook for his life

yet you still take turns deciding on who's going to poison the other

obviously that never works out

the day either ends with you guys calling minho and asking begging him if you could have some of his leftovers

or

your more preferable option

ordering take-out

despite take-out being a very common occurrence for you guys

take-outs on christmas are special

the reason being the free sweets your favourite restaurant usually provide in the small bowl by the entrance

yes, the sweets are there usually

but after changbin accidentally caused a scene the first time you dined in at the restaurant long story

the owner had banned either of you from taking the complementary sweets

however

during christmas time, customers bustle in and out of the restaurant

which makes it easy for changbin to snag a handful of sweets and shove them in his pocket

before grabbing your hand and making a run for it back to his car

you do get some odd looks from the other customers queuing outside the restaurant

but at the end of the day

who are the ones who have a bunch of free sweets to snack on? B-)

hyunjin (현진) ~ sweater paws

it's the time of christmas! meaning...

taking hyunjin's oversized sweaters!!!

needless to say it's your favourite thing to do

it's not that he doesn't let you borrow them usually

he just... prefers to keep his expensive clothes in his closet safe and sound

however

he does indeed have a 'sweater of shame'

a christmas sweater that the other members got him as a gag gift a couple of years ago

you will never catch that man ALIVE wearing that "hideous thing"

so when you started dating him and found that absolute gem

you had decided it make it your mission to shove that "disgusting" piece of clothing over his head

except somehow the tables turned

and the sweater ended up wrapped around you

and hyunjin will never openly admit this

but it was quite literally one of the cutest sights he had ever seen in his life

ever since then

he's made it his mission to get you to wear the sweater every christmas

obviously you run away from him

until last year

when he finally caught you and managed to get it on you

you discovered the sweater does have a plus side to it

sweater paws

it feels like playing whack-a-mole whenever you attempt to swing at hyunjin with the sweater on

whack-a-hyunjin, perchance

he claims to hate it and runs away from you

but you both know it's something the two of you look forward to every christmas

networks: @kflixnet k-labels @kbookshelf @neverendingdreams-net @straykidsland @k-films pirateeznet

[tasteleeknow-remade]

— horror house

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, enemies to lovers. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 6.2k

summary: you're stuck in a horror house alone—your only way out is with the guy who hates your guts. halloween themed enemies to lovers with minho. pirate!minho with a lip ring included.

afab!reader. profanity. mention of recreational drug use. insecure reader. anxiety mention. pet names. unprotected intercourse. oral (f.rec). jealous behaviour. possessive behaviour. praise kink.

At first it was only out of obligation to your friend. They’d only dated a few months but Minho had been a total dick when it ended, breaking it off over text and offering her no explanation. Then you’d had a class project with Chan, his best friend. You’d gotten along so well you’d accepted Minho was the price you’d have to pay to keep Chan around. You ignored Minho for the most part, still just out of loyalty to your heartbroken friend. It wasn’t until Chan’s birthday that your opinion of him was set in stone. You’d spent the previous month painting a landscape of a beach Chan had declared his favourite place on earth. When he’d unwrapped it and held it up for everyone to see, MInho had burst out in laughter.  

That was when you decided you hated him. He’d fucked with your friend and he’d made you feel like shit about your only escapism hobby. It took months for you to get the soothing feeling back when you painted. You second guess every piece you made, wondering if everyone around you was just being nice when they said they were pretty. He was a dick and you hated him. Unfortunately, he stuck to Chan like glue. He was always buzzing around, making little biting comments about your clothes or your hair or something you’d said.

Tonight was no different. You were at a halloween event at the theme park with Chan, Minho and two other friends. It was supposed to just be you and Chan but when he'd called the day before to sheepishly admit Minho was tagging along, you’d invited two other friends to balance it out. The more people were there, the less you’d have to talk to him. So far you've received snark about your costume, about your choice of food, and about your refusal to ride one of the biggest rollercoasters. The guy was afraid of heights and he was being a dick about you not wanting to go on a ride. When you pointed out the irony he’d just grinned, “Yeah, and I’m going on it. So what does that say about you?” You’d grabbed his stupid pirate hate off his stupid head and shoved it into Chan’s arms. “Fine,” you’d said, “I’ll go on the stupid ride.” You’d marched off to join the queue, ignoring him when he’d begun taunting you about being afraid. When it was all over you’d struggled to contain your laughter. It wasn't that bad. If you were being totally honest it was pretty fun, but you weren’t telling him that. 

He sits across from you now, biting the end off his stupidly long churro. You’d offered to buy Chan one when he’d pointed out the cart and Minho had latched onto the offer—asking at the last moment in front of the staff. He’d never paid for a single thing for you ever. His tongue pokes out to lick sugar off his lip. He had a fake lip ring on. What that had to do with pirates, you had no idea. You’d asked him when he’d shown up at Chan’s place earlier that night. He’d made fun of you for even noticing the fake jewellery. “What are you looking at my lips for?” he’d smirked. 

“You’re gonna swallow that thing,” you say now, watching the small silver ring disappear slowly between his lips as he chews. 

He looks up from his churro and keeps his eyes on yours—his tongue poking out again to push it back in place. Then the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Still can’t take your eyes off my mouth?” 

“I was hoping you’d choke on it.”

“I wanna go to the horror house next,” Chan announces, interrupting before Minho can offer one of his uninspired retorts. You hate horror houses. You hate horror mazes. Halloween was fun as long as no one was jumping out from behind corners to scare you. But you can’t back out, not after the roller coaster. He’d find some way to make it worse than just going without complaint. 

“I like your costume,” a girl dressed as some kind of sexy demon says as she brushes her fingers across the brim of Minho’s hat. That was another thing, he was the worst flirt you’d ever come across in your life. Anywhere you went there would be some girl draped over him, feeding into his huge fucking ego. You wanted to pull them aside and explain why he was the last guy in the world they wanted to lather in praise. You never did, though. He’d think you were jealous and trying to drive off the competition. 

“Thanks,” he smiles at the girl, “What are you?” 

“A succubus.” 

Honestly, you wish she’d flirted with you instead. She looked hot. Your costume didn’t do a lot for your figure. You wore a long white dress with puffed sleeves at the shoulders—a spattering of fake blood carefully added around the hem. It was supposed to be an homage to your favourite horror film, Crimson Peak. Minho had asked why you’d come dressed in a bedsheet. If you were trying to do a ghost he could cut two holes in it and pull it up over your head, he’d offered generously. 

“The sex demons?” Minho’s voice is deeper than usual as he flirts with the hot demon girl. It was ridiculous. Easy ammunition to use against him later. 

“They visit people in their dreams and seduce them,” she purrs as she fiddles with the laces at the front of her corset. 

You look to the front of the queue you're standing in then turn to Chan, attempting to tune out the flirting. “Please, distract me before I puke,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles before speaking, not bothering to whisper. 

“It’s honestly impressive how long you’ve kept this up. When will you let him off the hook, hm?” 

Minho and the hot demon girl shuffle forward as the queue moves. You don’t, letting them create some distance before you speak. “He’s a prick. I’ve explained what he did.” 

“He had a messy break up with a girl you aren’t even friends with anymore.” 

You say nothing, crossing your arms and leaning back against the railing. You watch him study your face out the corner of your eye before he speaks again, “Ah. It’s not about that is it?” You keep your mouth shut. “Is it about the painting? You know I love that thing. It’s hung up in a prime location.” 

Minho and the hot demon girl have moved even further forward in the queue, giving you the confidence to speak. “It’s not about the painting. He’s just a dick.”

“Why would I be best friends with someone who is just objectively a dick?”

“You tell me.”

“I wouldn’t.”   

“Well maybe he’s just a dick to me then.” 

Chan is quiet and just as you think he’s dropped the subject he speaks again, “Oh, I get it.”

“What?”

“Can you move up!?” someone behind you shouts. You shuffle forward to where Minho and the hot demon girl are still flirting. Chan nudges you. You ignore him. 

You have your eyes squeezed shut, your grip on Chan’s bicep the only thing keeping you upright. Minho and the others are up ahead, leaving you and Chan to stumble forward clumsily. Every now and then you hear Minho shouting up ahead, he was jumpy—like you. That didn’t matter though, you’d cop an earful if he saw you cowering in fear. 

“Can you loosen up just a little?” Chan asks, attempting to pull his arm from your grip. 

“No.” 

He stops walking, halting you with him. “Let go for a second.” 

“No.”

“Just for a second.” 

You hesitantly release him, instantly regretting it and reaching to grab him again—eyes closed. You feel nothing but empty space. “Chan?” you call, failing to hide the panic in your voice. “This isn’t funny.” All you hear is the sound of his retreating footsteps. “Chan!” When you get no response, you freeze. Too afraid to open your eyes or make any more noise. When his footsteps return you reach out blindly. “Please,” you beg, voice wobbling a little. 

“You alright?” Minho’s voice. Fuck. Open your eyes, you plead with yourself. “Jesus, Chan said you were afraid, not catatonic.” 

You peek one eye open, he’s directly in front of you—smiling like he’s just stumbled upon pirates' gold. “I’m fine,” you mutter unconvincingly. 

“Alright, Let’s head back to the others then,” he says, turning to leave.

You squeeze your eyes shut again. “Wait! I—” you interrupt yourself, regretting the outburst instantly. 

“Mm?”

“I need…” you trail off, cringing. 

“Yes? What do you need?” His voice is sickly sweet. 

“You,” you finish, shoulders slumping in resignation. 

“This wasn’t exactly the place I imagined you finally admitting that.” 

“I need you to lead me through, you idiot.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Say ‘pretty please Minho, you’re so strong and handsome’.” 

“Don’t be an ass.” 

Then there was silence. You’re afraid for a second he’d somehow crept away without you hearing. You open your mouth to suck in a breath and call his name—a soft tickle of breath against your cheek halting you. “Say please,” he whispers directly into your ear. 

A small shiver runs through your spine. “Will you please be nice to me for once and let me hold your arm?” 

“Okay,” he says lightly, as if he hasn’t just made you beg for his help. His hand touches yours lightly and you think he’s guiding your hand to his arm—instead he intertwines your fingers. Before you can protest he’s pulling you along, making you stumble a little at his quick pace. You peek an eye open just as something drops from the ceiling. You scream, jumping forward to latch onto Minho—fingers grasping at the linen of his pirate shirt. His fingers tighten around yours, “You really that scared?”

“Shut up.” 

“Can you afford to be rude to me right now?” 

“I’ve got a hold of you now, I’m not letting go even if you decide to abandon me.” 

He chuckles and then he’s attempting to detach you from his shirt. “I can’t walk with you attached to my front like this,” he whines. You relent, releasing the fabric to quickly wrap around his bicep, one hand in his, and one grasping his arm. “Really?” he complains. Before you can respond he's walking, movements slowed by your shuffling. You flinch at each jumpscare, feeling his small jolts as he reacts similarly. You don’t comment on it, afraid if you poke at him too much he really will leave you.  

When he stops moving finally and announces you’re at the end, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. Then you spring off him. Chan and the others are standing with the hot demon girl and her friend, chatting and laughing like they hadn’t just emerged from that nightmare. It’s only at that moment you register Minho had left the girl he’d been flirting with to come back and help you. 

“You okay?” Minho’s soft voice pulls your attention to his face. 

“Why did you come help instead of Chan?”

“He asked.” 

You nod in understanding. “Right,” you say before walking over to join the others. He did it because Chan asked. Because he’s nice to Chan and everyone else, apparently. When Minho joins the group, hot demon girl latches onto him—grasping his arm a lot like you had minutes earlier. She leans up to whisper in his ear and then his eyes widen a little. You watch over the next few minutes as his ears tinge red. 

“Hello?” Chan’s voice breaks through your thoughts. 

“What?”

“I said we’re gonna head back to my place for drinks.”

“Oh, alright.”

“You coming?”

“Sure.” 

“Oi! We’re going back to mine!” Chan shouts to Minho much louder than needed. Minho looks up, eyes meeting yours. He looks away to whisper in the demon girl's ear. She smiles and nods. You turn to follow Chan and the others back to the car. 

“She’s not coming,” you struggle to keep your voice down, looking back over to the others standing around the car. You’d dragged Minho out of demon girl's earshot. 

“Why not?” Minho answers, his calm demeanour working you up more. 

“She doesn’t fit.” 

He looks back to the car. “She can sit on my lap.”

“That’s illegal.” 

He laughs. You want to stomp his stupid hat into the pavement. “You smoked weed a few hours ago,” he says. 

“That’s different.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners. “Yeah?”

“Unless you call the cops yourself, I’m not getting in trouble for that. All it would take is Chan getting pulled over and we’re all fucked.” 

He smiles properly, eyes crinkling. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with me?” 

You throw your arms in the air. “Are you making fun of me right now? I—God.. just—Do whatever the fuck you want then. I’m over it,” you storm back to the car, pulling the front passenger door open and slamming it shut after you. You struggle to hold tears back. Why the fuck are you crying? Overwhelmed from the horror house, you assume. You take a few deep breaths and then everyone is climbing in the car. You don’t turn around, keeping your eyes fixed out the windscreen. When Chan doesn’t start the car after a few minutes you turn, noticing Minho and demon girl outside the car still. She gives him a hug and you look away quickly. When Minho enters the car alone, you say nothing. 

Chan passes you another drink, giving you a pointed look before settling himself back in one of the chairs across the fire pit. You hadn't said much at all since getting in the car. Chan noticed, you guessed. You were getting a little hot in your long dress. You doubted you’d be making it home tonight. You often ended up crashing at Chan’s place on nights like this, it was a bit like a second home—even if he shared it with Minho. 

“You alright?” one of your other friends asks as they lean over from their chair next to you, “You’ve been a little quiet.” 

“Just a bit hot,” you say, offering her a small smile. 

“Oi! Come have a go!” Minho shouts at you from where he’s having a sword fight with your friend dressed as a Jedi. It’s sword versus lightsaber. 

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply, not caring if he can hear you. You make eye contact with Chan across the fire. He nods his head in their direction. You shake your head back. 

“She’ll have a go!” he shouts. Traitor. You knew Chan had a longstanding agenda of making you and Minho friends. He wasn’t subtle about it. 

A lightsaber is shoved in your face. You look up to find Minho grinning down at you. “Take it,” he says, shaking the weapon in front of you. You snatch it, standing to follow him to the patch of grass he’d chosen as the battlefield. He holds his fake pirate sword out in your direction, adopting a dramatic fighting stance. You roll your eyes. 

“How does this thing light up?” you ask, searching the surprisingly sturdy plastic lightsaber for any buttons. You find one. It lights up blue. 

“You ready?” he asks. 

“What are the rules? How do I win?” 

“Stab the other person in the stomach.” 

You lunge for him with no warning. He jumps back, blocking you with his sword. “Sneaky,” he chuckles, backing up slowly as you keep attacking. He keeps backing up until he reaches the fence, nowhere else to go. Then he attacks. He swings the sword so hard you’re amazed the two plastic toys are holding up. He doesn’t seem like he’s actually aiming for your stomach, having too much fun swinging at you wildly. 

He clips your hand. “Ow!” you yell, dropping your weapon to the ground and shaking your hand in the air—failing to ease the sting at all. 

He stops, sword falling to his side. “Oh, shit. Are you alright?” 

You blow on your hand then bend to grab the lightsaber. “I’m fine,” you say, fired up now. “Keep going.” 

He frowns, eyes on your still stinging hand. You take advantage of his distraction, jumping forward to shove the tip of your weapon into his stomach. He grunts as you hit him and then he’s laughing, reaching forward to grab you and wrap his arms around you—holding you hostage. 

“Get off,” you groan, wiggling in his hold. He squeezes you tighter. 

“That was dirty play.” 

“We didn’t make any rules. Let go.” 

“Say please.”

“Fuck off.” 

He releases you and you storm off, grabbing your drink and heading inside. You were hot just sitting around but after that? You needed to change out of this stupid costume. The high collar was making you feel suffocated. You place your drink on the kitchen countertop and lean over the sink to splash your face with cold water. While you shake your hands dry your gaze drifts to the large painting hanging proudly in the centre of the largest wall in the house. When you’d first seen where Chan had hung your painting, you’d been unable to keep a smile off your face. Either he really did like it or he liked you enough to hang it there anyway. Either way, it soothed a little of the sting Minho had dealt when he’d laughed at it. 

You head up the stairs, making your way to Chan’s room. It wasn’t unusual for you to borrow clothes from him when you stayed over. You’re sifting through his shorts, trying to find the pair that fit you well when you’re startled for the hundredth time today. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for clothes, get out.” 

Minho wanders into the room, slowly making his way over to you—hands in his pockets. “I’ve got clothes.”

“Obviously.” 

“Use mine.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask just before he presses the drawer closed, forcing you to pull your hands out. You look up at him, too tired to fight him. “Fine,” you sigh before leading the way to his bedroom. His soft footfalls follow you. You turn at his door, blocking the doorway with your arm. “I don’t need help.” He ducks under your arm. 

You debate whether it’s worth trying to make a run for it back to Chan’s room. There’s a lock on his door. “Hurry up, don’t you want to get out of that bedsheet.” You spin around to find him sorting through a pile of clothes at the end of his bed. 

“It’s not a sheet, it’s a nightgown from a gothic horror.” 

“You went to a theme park in pyjamas?” he taunts, continuing to dig through the pile, “You got all that fancy stuff under there?” You say nothing, watching him from the doorway. “Ya know like a corset and stockings and all that olden days crap?” 

“It’s a nightgown, why would I have anything underneath?” 

“You make it sound like you have nothing on at all,” he asks without looking up, busy with his search. You lean back against the doorframe and cross your arms, saying nothing. His hands abruptly halt and he looks up at you. “No…you’re kidding.” 

“Are those dirty?” you ask, pointing at the pile of clothes. He drops the shirt he’d been holding, taking small steps over to you slowly—like you might spook. 

“Not even panties?” he asks, ignoring your question. 

“Don’t be a perv.” 

“Me? You were staring at my lips all night.” You drop your eyes to his chest, the neckline of his pirate costume lower than anything you’d seen him wear before. “Oh, my chest too?” You snap your eyes back to his. 

“If I was staring it was only because of your nauseating attempt at flirting. It must be tiring dropping your voice so much lower than it is naturally. That girl is lucky she got out of coming back here. I bet you’re a lousy fuck.” 

“I dunno how many more of your insults I can take. As cute as the little line is between your brows when you get angry, I do have feelings.” 

You frown. Cute? 

“Mm, that’s the one.” 

You quickly adopt a neutral expression. “I’m going back to Chan’s,” you announce, not moving. 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he says, taking a small step closer, “I’d rather you stayed here…stay here and take that thing off.” 

“Get out so I can change, then.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out.” 

“You want me to fuck you instead? Is that it, huh? That’s why you’re being brattier than usual. You watched me all night and then when I paid attention to that girl instead of you, you lost it.” 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I called her right now and told her to come over? She gave me her number, ya know. Told me to call her if I decided I wanted to fuck her after all. Tell me you don’t want me to call her. Tell me you want me to fuck you instead.” 

“Why—” you pause as he tugs at the strings keeping his shirt together at the front, revealing even more of his chest. “Why would I want to fuck someone who hates me?” you finish, hoping your voice sounds even. 

“Hates you?” 

“Don’t play dumb.” 

His expression softens, catching you off guard. “Why would I hate you?” His voice is soft now too. 

“You—You don’t?” 

“No, baby. I don’t hate you.” 

You examine his face for any indication he’s messing with you. “But—”

“Is that why you’ve been running from me? Hm? Why you won’t admit you love me?” His fingers play with the fabric of your nightgown before he begins pulling it up slightly—the material bunching in his fist. 

Why does he keep saying that? “I don’t.” 

“You don’t love me? I have feelings, remember. You can’t say something nice to me? I won’t tell anyone.” He says, a small smirk forming. The way he was switching between soft tones and snark was giving you whiplash. Your eyes drop to the ring still attached to his lip. “Always looking at my mouth…” 

You're quiet as he continues slowly bunching up the fabric of your dress, then you whisper, “I-I like the ring.” 

He grins. “Yeah? Is that all?”

“I like the shirt,” your voice just above a whisper this time.

“Do you like the shirt and the ring or do you like them on me?” The dress is up to your thighs now, both his hands under the hem to bunch all the fabric up. His knuckles brush your skin lightly. “You really have nothing under here?” he asks before you can respond to his first question. 

You reach down to take one of his hands, keeping eye contact as you guide him up your thighs slowly. You pause, “You really mean it? You—you aren’t fucking with me?” 

“Hm?”

“You don't hate me?” you clarify. 

“You really thought I hated you?”

You frown, confused. “You’re always—You’re nice to everyone but me.” 

“I thought we were playing. You’re so fun to play with.” He smiles. “You don’t like playing with me?” 

“You laughed at my painting.”

He frowns a little. “Your painting? The one you gave Chan?”

You nod.

“I was laughing because all I got him that year was a new case for his phone. He made me promise not to get him anything ‘big’ and then you walk in the house carrying the biggest present I've ever seen in my life. It was bigger than you for fuck’s sake. I held it back until he opened the thing.” He chuckles at the memory. “The amount of wrapping paper around his legs…I got him a phone case.” 

“You didn’t think it was bad?” 

“Why would I hang it up in the centre of the house if I thought it was ugly?” 

“You—You put it there?” 

“Mm,” he confirms, eyes flicking down to where his hand disappeared under your dress. Oh right, his hand was under your dress. You take a deep breath before continuing to guide his hand up your thighs, hesitating when you reach your centre. “It’s alright,” he whispers, retracting his hand a little before you stop him. You hold him there as you examine his face. His ears are tinged red. Maybe he really isn’t messing with you. Maybe he really did want this. You gently guide him to your cunt, sucking in a shallow breath as his fingers brush your folds. He wraps his free hand around the back of your neck, holding you close to him. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You really went to that theme park with your little pussy bare like this? Shit, the way you were latched onto me in the house…you were all shivery and jumpy and I didn’t even know your little cunt was naked…”

You watch the little silver ring on his bottom lip as he plays with you. 

“Bet that guy at the churro stand would’ve lost his mind if he knew you were all naked under here…he already looked like he was imagining how you’d look with his cock in your mouth,” he continues, fingers stroking you slowly. 

“What guy?” you breathe. 

“You didn’t notice him ogling you the entire time we ate? Were you too busy watching my mouth? Hm? Am I that distracting, baby?” You say nothing, focusing on keeping your breathing even. “No? You don’t get all worked up when I’m around?” The tip of his finger dips inside you before retreating, teasing your entrance over and over again. You grip his bicep to keep your balance—legs wobbling a little. His tongue pokes out to play with the ring briefly. 

‘Stop,” you gasp out—overwhelmed. You’re unsure whether you mean his fingers on your cunt or his tongue on his lip. He drops both hands from your body, taking a quick step back. He looks at you like could shatter his world with your next move. 

You grip the hem of your dress and pull it up over your head—stumbling back a step, thrown slightly off balance by the weight of the bunched fabric. When you drop it to the floor and look back up at Minho his eyes are glazed over—hands clenched at his side. 

“Hate you?” he huffs out a breath of laughter before approaching you slowly. He takes your hand gently, lifting it up and turning it back and forth as he inspects it. It’s the hand you’d hurt in your sword fight, you realise. You’d completely forgotten about it, the stinging long gone. 

“Promise me. Promise you aren’t going to take this all back…that you mean it,” you say, giving him one last chance to back out. 

He rests his palm gently at your hip, gliding up and down your waist slowly before dropping to your lower back. He pushes you into him, your torso pressed to his. “Promise,” he mutters and then his lips are on yours. He’s not gentle at all. It’s desperate and messy and it isn’t long before his lip ring comes off in your mouth. You pull back enough to pluck it from between your lips, holding it up like pirate's loot—unable to hold back a grin. 

“Don’t lose this,” you say as you tuck it into one of his pockets before pulling him back to you. His hair is messed from wearing the pirate’s hat for hours and you can’t resist tangling your fingers in it as you hold him to you. He grabs a handful of your ass in return. “The door is open,” you murmur into his mouth as he walks you backwards towards the bed. He makes no indication he’s heard you and then the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. He lowers you onto your back slowly, your legs dangling off the bed. He pecks your mouth once more before walking over to shut and lock the door. You sit up on your elbows as he approaches you again, watching him pull the flimsy shirt over his head. You trail your eyes down to where his hands work to unbuckle his belt. 

“Spread your legs for me,” he says, prompting you to look up to his face. His eyes are locked between your legs as he tugs at his belt. 

“Say please.” 

He looks up to your eyes, a small smile forming on his face. “Cheeky. You like playing too, don’t you? You’ve always liked it, playing with me.” 

You offer him a small smile in return. 

“Please, spread your legs for me,” he says, shoving his pants down his legs. Your eyes drop to his thighs as you slowly spread your legs apart, offering yourself to him. “Fuck,” he mutters, dropping to his knees. He settles himself between your legs, pushing your thighs apart a little more. “Say something nice to me and I’ll make you feel good,” he says, one finger stroking you lightly. You struggle not to squirm, the teasing touch making you desperate for more. “Go on, you can do it,” he encourages. 

“Your mouth is pretty,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Hm? What was that?” he says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“I think…your lips are nice.” 

“I know,” he says sweetly and then he’s leaning forward to press a kiss to your dripping cunt. He holds your thighs apart as you involuntarily attempt to squeeze them together. “Again,” he murmurs, lips brushing against you. You fail to hold in a whine. “Something nice,” he prompts. 

“Thighs,” you breathe out, unable to form a full sentence. 

“Yeah?” His breath tickles you as he speaks. “So I wasn’t imagining it at the beach the other day…kept catching you looking.” You feel your cheeks warm, embarrassed. The man had his face between your legs and you were blushing over the fact he’d caught you looking at his thighs. He presses his lips to your mound, rewarding you by tracing light kisses down to your entrance. You replay the memory of his lips with the small silver ring attached to the lower, how he looked with his tongue poking out to play with it, how he looked licking sugar off his lips. 

By the last kiss you’re failing to keep your hips still in your attempt to get a little friction from somewhere, anywhere. His palm moves to press against your lower stomach, and then his warm, wet tongue is licking a long stripe back up to your clit. A whine of his name slips from your lips. “Yes?” His voice is sickly sweet again, in total contrast with the act he’s engaged in. 

You fail to lift your head off the bed, muscles too relaxed. “More,” you plead, unbothered with how desperate you sound now. 

“More? More of me? You want more of my tongue on your wet little pussy?” 

“Mm.” 

“Say it. You want me.” 

“...want you.” 

“My name.” 

“Minho…want you… please…Min…” 

“So sweet,” he mutters before attaching his mouth to you again. He keeps his palm on your lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to keep your hips on the bed as he works you up to your high. You grasp at his bedsheets as you picture his pretty lips, then he groans. The vibrations against your cunt send you over the edge, mind blanking as you cum. He presses you into the bed a little harder as your hips attempt to rise off the bed. He’s muttering against you. You make out nothing he says.  

By the time you come down he’s hovering above you, lips and chin glistening with your wetness. You pull him down to attach your mouth to his, wordlessly thanking him. He moans into your mouth and presses his body down onto you, your breasts pressing into his bare chest. His hard cock rests against your thigh. He’s kissing you differently from earlier, while that was desperate and rough, this is slow and sensual—as if he’s savouring his reward. 

“You clean?” you mutter against his lips, impatient to feel him inside you. 

“Hm? You gonna let me fill you up?” 

“Answer the question.” 

“Yeah, baby. I’m clean. Now answer mine.” 

“You can, if you like, have an IUD.” 

“Tell me what you want. I wanna hear you ask me nicely.” 

“Or I could just leave. You got me off, I'm good to go.” 

He pulls himself off you, returning to his standing position at the end of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see him, his eyes are trailing up and down your body. “You don’t want this?” he asks as he starts slowly stroking himself. “Look how hard you make me,” he mutters, thumb brushing over his tip. You sit up, eyes level with his cock. You look up at him. 

“Are you fishing for compliments on your dick now? You got a praise kink?” 

“Will you tell me nice things if I say I do.” 

“What do I get in return?”

“I just made you cum.” 

“That’s true, that was nice of you,” you say, watching one corner of his mouth quirk up. “Alright, you have a nice dick.” 

“Is that the best you can do?” 

You drop your eyes back to his cock, his hand still slowly stroking up and down. It was true. He did have a nice dick. It was thick and curved slightly up, not too long but long enough to make it the nicest dick you’ve seen. You wonder if you could handle his ego if you said that out loud. 

“It’s pretty,” you say instead, “pretty and—and it looks like it’d fill me up nicely.” 

“Mm? You gonna let me cum inside? You want me to?” 

You look up to his eyes again, they’re hooded—his jaw clenched. “Yeah,” you breathe. 

“Lay back on the pillows,” he says, “please.” 

You shuffle back on the bed, failing to hold back a smile. His cock bounces as he crawls towards you and then he’s settling himself over you. You hold your breath, anxiety seeping back into your chest again. How could you have got it so wrong? It didn’t make sense. 

“Have you—have you wanted this… for a while?” you ask, as he hovers over you—pearl choker hanging a little from his neck. Apparently he’d decided pirates wore pearl chokers and lip rings. You weren’t complaining. 

“A little while,” he mutters, eyes dropping from yours. 

“Then you’re a terrible flirt.” 

He huffs out a short breath of laughter, eyes meeting yours again. “I thought we were good at it.” 

“It might’ve helped if I knew that’s what we were doing.”

“You know now.” 

“I know now.” 

He kisses you, tongue dipping between your lips. He plays with your lip a little like he had with the ring. You moan, encouraging him to guide his cock to your cunt. He keeps his lips on yours as he enters you, a low groan vibrating through his chest. He’s quiet at first as you both savour feeling the other so completely. Each time he presses in, you can’t help thinking about his thighs—the thighs he’s currently using to fuck his pretty cock deep inside you. He seems to be working himself up as well, his breathing getting heavier. 

“My pretty baby…letting me fuck you raw…” he mumbles against your mouth, “You were so cute… getting all worked up because I talked to another girl, hm?” 

“She was hot,” you say, attempting to justify yourself. 

“I could call her, she might wanna join in,” he says, lifting his face from yours to look over your face. 

You frown. “No.”

He chuckles, “No? You think I’m yours? Think I belong to you?” You wrap your legs around him, holding him to you. The second time you’d wrapped yourself around him that day. You imagine if you could send a message back in time, to the version of you attached to his bicep in the horror house. Would you ever be able to comprehend this is where you’d be a few hours later? That you’d be under him like this in his bed, his thick cock stretching you open. “Yeah? You want me to be yours?” he continues, taking your clinginess as an answer. He presses his face to your neck as his pace picks up. 

“Want you—,” you whisper into his ear, “want you to be mine, just mine.” A whine escapes him, high and sweet—encouraging you to continue. “Couldn’t look away from your lips tonight, that ring…you’re so hot. Prettiest lips…” 

“Shit,” he mumbles against your skin, hips stuttering a little as he fucks into you. 

“And the beach,” you continue, “I was so distracted all day. It was maddening. You walked out of the water with your shorts all wet, stuck to your thighs…made me all hot.”

He pulls his face from your neck, eyes locking onto yours as he pulls out and thrusts into you hard, once, twice, three times. Then he’s coming, mouth attaching to yours as he fills you. You clench around him, drawing one last pretty moan from his lips. He pants into your mouth as he catches his breath. 

“Mm, definitely a praise kink,” you whisper, fingers tangling in his hair. 

a/n: i lied. it wasn’t exactly enemies to lovers. it was enemies to lovers but only one of them thinks they’re enemies, the other has been in love the whole time. unreliable narrator. oop. happy halloween.

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