#now to buy another round of stuff

[books-and-kids]

We did it!

I dropped Abe off yesterday morning. He and his family were sooooo excited to see each other and I told his mom to text me anytime she needs a babysitter.

He was only here for 6-ish days, which is nothing in fumblr time. But it was a long week for me! I slept 12 hours last night and I'm still tired.

Hosting was hard and I can't say I enjoyed it -- it definitely didn't make me happy. In addition to the p00p in my tub, other lowlights included holding down a screaming child for 2+ hours while multiple stylists detangled his hair (partly my fault for not getting it taken care of sooner, partly how he came to me) and picking up a cold that makes me feel like my throat is ripping every time I cough.

But I keep seeing texts about more kids who need hosts and I have the same feeling I had before this week -- that I want to say yes. I want to do a better job than I did this week, so that it's smoother and easier and more successful, but I don't want to stop. It's similar to how I feel about my job (nonprofit work for the cause I care most about in the world) -- this is meaningful work and I really want to do it and do it well, and that doesn't change even if some individual days are hard.

Also, there's something about it that really worked for me in a way I didn't expect. In a lot of ways the goals are fairly simple and well-defined, especially for a young kid and a short hosting: feed the kid, keep them clean, make sure they exercise, get them to sleep a reasonable amount of time, maintain their connection to their family, give them love and affection. So every morning, when he ate a healthy breakfast, I felt successful. I changed his diaper and felt competent. He scream-cried and I gently but firmly held the boundary and felt proud of myself. It was a series of discrete tasks that I was mostly able to accomplish, and there are very few feelings I like more than the feeling of successfully checking an item off my to-do list.

All of which is to say... I thought I wanted to do this, which is why I started doing it, but I wasn't sure that I might not hate it immediately and realize I should never do it again. But so far, all signs point to this being the right choice!

[hedgehog-moss]

I'm happy to announce that this month I was finally able to buy Pirlouit a proper packsaddle! Doesn't he look very professional? And handsome. He receives a lot of compliments every time a visitor sees him all dressed up.

If he looks a bit wary in this photo it's because it was the first time I added the baskets, and as he'd never seen such large baskets before he wasn't sure they weren't about to eat him. His nervousness only took the form of twitchy ears though, there was no drama. (And he can be very melodramatic, so really he's been very stoical and self-possessed in the process of getting used to the packsaddle.)

He can also sulk for days if I make him do something he doesn't like (e.g. hoof care, which he seems to interpret as pointless torture), so I find it gratifying that every time we've used the packsaddle so far, he didn't try to avoid me the next day but came to greet me—he makes it very obvious when he is offended by an activity, and I'm glad that he seems to enjoy being asked to help carry things :).

When I bought the packsaddle I was a bit concerned about the girth being too small, because Pirou refused to let me measure his circumference beforehand (and I was pretty sure having to resort to some sort of girth extender would embarrass him) (but he does have a very round belly...)

But no; I was able to fasten all the straps—though I spared him the crupper strap at first.

I had to have two tall trees felled in the pasture (because of a project I will talk about in another post), and I also cut a couple of storm-damaged trees in my woods, so I spent a lot of time this year cutting & splitting logs. I now have several stacks quite far from my house, in places that can't be reached with a wheelbarrow, and my donkey's help is very appreciated to carry everything to the woodshed. Plus, the people who visit me are usually more into doing stuff with the llamas, so this allows me to give attention to Pirlouit too, while doing something useful.

Aren't you proud to be now in my Top 3 Most Useful Animals, Pirou?

... wait he's still grumbling about that one comment.

[hwaflms]

round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The CFPB is genuinely making America better, and they're going HARD

On June 20, I'm keynoting the LOCUS AWARDS in OAKLAND.

Let's take a sec here and notice something genuinely great happening in the US government: the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau's stunning, unbroken streak of major, muscular victories over the forces of corporate corruption, with the backing of the Supreme Court (yes, that Supreme Court), and which is only speeding up!

A little background. The CFPB was created in 2010. It was Elizabeth Warren's brainchild, an institution that was supposed to regulate finance from the perspective of the American public, not the American finance sector. Rather than fighting to "stabilize" the financial sector (the mission that led to Obama taking his advisor Timothy Geithner's advice to permit the foreclosure crisis to continue in order to "foam the runways" for the banks), the Bureau would fight to defend us from bankers.

The CFPB got off to a rocky start, with challenges to the unique system of long-term leadership appointments meant to depoliticize the office, as well as the sudden resignation of its inaugural boss, who broke his promise to see his term through in order to launch an unsuccessful bid for political office.

But after the 2020 election, the Bureau came into its own, when Biden poached Rohit Chopra from the FTC and put him in charge. Chopra went on a tear, taking on landlords who violated the covid eviction moratorium:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cfpb

Then banning payday lenders' scummiest tactics:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/29/planned-obsolescence/#academic-fraud

Then striking at one of fintech's most predatory grifts, the "earned wage access" hustle:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Then closing the loophole that let credit reporting bureaus (like Equifax, who doxed every single American in a spectacular 2019 breach) avoid regulation by creating data brokerage divisions and claiming they weren't part of the regulated activity of credit reporting:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

Chopra went on to promise to ban data-brokers altogether:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/13/goulash/#material-misstatement

Then he banned comparison shopping sites where you go to find the best bank accounts and credit cards from accepting bribes and putting more expensive options at the top of the list. Instead, he's requiring banks to send the CFPB regular, accurate lists of all their charges, and standing up a federal operated comparison shopping site that gives only accurate and honest rankings. Finally, he's made an interoperability rule requiring banks to let you transfer to another institution with one click, just like you change phone carriers. That means you can search an honest site to find the best deal on your banking, and then, with a single click, transfer your accounts, your account history, your payees, and all your other banking data to that new bank:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

Somewhere in there, big business got scared. They cooked up a legal theory declaring the CFPB's funding mechanism to be unconstitutional and got the case fast-tracked to the Supreme Court, in a bid to put Chopra and the CFPB permanently out of business. Instead, the Supremes – these Supremes! – upheld the CFPB's funding mechanism in a 7-2 ruling:

https://www.scotusblog.com/2024/05/supreme-court-lets-cfpb-funding-stand/

That ruling was a starter pistol for Chopra and the Bureau. Maybe it seemed like they were taking big swings before, but it turns out all that was just a warmup. Last week on The American Prospect, Robert Kuttner rounded up all the stuff the Bureau is kicking off:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-06-07-window-on-corporate-deceptions/

First: regulating Buy Now, Pay Later companies (think: Klarna) as credit-card companies, with all the requirements for disclosure and interest rate caps dictated by the Truth In Lending Act:

https://www.skadden.com/insights/publications/2024/06/cfpb-applies-credit-card-rules

Next: creating a registry of habitual corporate criminals. This rogues gallery will make it harder for other agencies – like the DOJ – and state Attorneys General to offer bullshit "delayed prosecution agreements" to companies that compulsively rip us off:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-creates-registry-to-detect-corporate-repeat-offenders/

Then there's the rule against "fine print deception" – which is when the fine print in a contract lies to you about your rights, like when a mortgage lender forces you waive a right you can't actually waive, or car lenders that make you waive your bankruptcy rights, which, again, you can't waive:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-warns-against-deception-in-contract-fine-print/

As Kuttner writes, the common thread running through all these orders is that they ban deceptive practices – they make it illegal for companies to steal from us by lying to us. Especially in these dying days of class action suits – rapidly becoming obsolete thanks to "mandatory arbitration waivers" that make you sign away your right to join a class action – agencies like the CFPB are our only hope of punishing companies that lie to us to steal from us.

There's a lot of bad stuff going on in the world right now, and much of it – including an active genocide – is coming from the Biden White House.

But there are people in the Biden Administration who care about the American people and who are effective and committed fighters who have our back. What's more, they're winning. That doesn't make all the bad news go away, but sometimes it feels good to take a moment and take the W.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

[augustinewrites]

"i love hearing your voice first thing in the morning."

you roll your eyes, resting your phone between your cheek and shoulder. nevermind it's mid afternoon. "aventurine, listen—"

as expected, he does no such thing. "don't care why you're calling. just that you're calling."

you can practically hear that smug, handsome grin on his face. "about your assignment in penacony—"

"oh yeah, sorry i had to take a rain check on our date. i ran into a few bumps along the way."

"what date?"

"the one i'll be dropping by in ten minutes to finally take you on." you hear chatter in the background now. he must have just entered the building.

you quickly check your reflection in your office window. "with an explanation for your expense report i hope."

"so you do get my messages! did you see the picture i attached?"

you did see the shirtless hotel selfie he'd attached to the report. you'd done him a favour and removed it (and saved it) before sending it off to your colleagues. "you gave that trailblazer hundreds of thousands of credits for unapproved 'bribery costs,' as you've called them."

"yep," he confirms, popping the 'p.' there's a few beats of silence as he pulls the phone away from his ear. your phone vibrates with a notification.

e-transfer: AVENTURINE sent you credits!

500,000 credits, to be specific.

"seriously?" you ask, shaking your head.

"don't worry, it's not ipc funds," he assures you. "i won it fair and square. use it buy yourself something to wear on our date. something gold."

"i'll be using it to pay rent for the next few months," you inform him, opening your banking app to deposit the credits. "but maybe i'll blow a little on something fun first."

"oof. speaking of blowing—"

your office door is suddenly thrown open, aventurine strolling inside with his arms wide open.

you stand, rounding your desk. aventurine kicks the door closed, then leans in for a hug, only to be stopped by a printed copy of his expense report pressed into his chest. "we need to talk about this."

"nah."

"nah?"

he takes the report, ignoring your protests as he throws it over his shoulder. "hey—"

he quickly closes the distance between you, cupping the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

and you— well, you kissed him back, letting him crowd you up against the wall. annoying as he was, you couldn't help but want him a little too.

when he slides a hand under the hem of your pants, you grab his wrist, pulling back to look at him. bright eyes watch you curiously.

"oh no. you first, hot stuff."

"hot stuff, huh?" he grins, already pulling his shirt over his head. you try not to stare at his spectacularly toned torso for too long and inflate his ego anymore. "i like it."

he moves back in for another kiss but you lean back, gaze flicking to his pants.

he quickly undoes them, pushing them down to his ankles and leaving him in just his boxers.

only then did you let him kiss you. again and again and again.

"okay, that's enough," you tease, leaving him with one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. you're breathless, flustered, face warm in the aftermath of your office makeout.

"hey, hold on—" he's quick to groan, shuffling after you with his pants still around his ankles. "where could you possibly be going right now?!"

you turn to face him once you've pulled the door open, holding up your phone. "i'm going to buy something gold to wear for our date."

[pucksandpower]

Mirror Mirror

Day 12 → Mirror Sex 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content and body image issues

Kinktober Masterlist

Oscar swings open the door of the apartment, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The training session ran longer than he expected, and every muscle in his body aches with that familiar, satisfying burn. His shirt sticks to his back as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“Hey, I’m home!” He calls out, already loosening his shoes by the door.

There’s no immediate response, just the quiet hum of life within the walls. The soft sound of typing, a quick, anxious tap-tap-tap, echoes from the living room.

Oscar frowns. “You in there?”

He rounds the corner and catches sight of you sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, fingers moving at a furious pace across the keyboard. There’s something about the way you're hunched over the screen that makes him pause. Your shoulders are tense, like you’re trying to shield the screen from view, your eyes darting up only when he steps into the room.

You slam the laptop shut so fast it nearly snaps.

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing as he approaches. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out, standing up quickly, a little too quickly, the laptop clutched in your hands as if it’s a lifeline. “Just … work stuff.”

Oscar doesn’t buy it for a second. “Work stuff?” He takes another step forward, his voice low, suspicious. “Since when do you hide work stuff from me?”

You swallow hard, eyes darting toward the bedroom as if you’re calculating the distance. “It’s nothing, Oscar. Just let it go.”

But he doesn’t. He’s not the kind of guy who lets things slide, especially when something feels off. And this? This feels way off.

Before you can react, he reaches out, fingers closing around the edge of the laptop, pulling it out of your grip with a swift, practiced motion. You make a sound of protest, stepping forward to try to grab it back, but he’s already moving, holding it up and out of your reach.

“Oscar, please,” you say, your voice tight with panic now. “Just don’t-”

Too late. He flips the screen open, eyes scanning the tabs that fill the screen.

Silence.

Plastic surgeons. Breast augmentation. Rhinoplasty. Procedures. Prices. Clinics in Monaco.

Oscar’s jaw clenches. His entire body stiffens as he scrolls through the endless pages of information, his mind trying to piece together what he’s seeing, trying to make sense of it.

He looks up, his voice low, controlled, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “What the hell is this?”

You’re standing there, rooted to the spot, hands trembling slightly at your sides. Your eyes are wide, like you’ve been caught doing something unspeakable, something you’ve been desperately trying to keep hidden.

“I-” you start, but your voice cracks. You look away, like you can’t stand to meet his gaze, like his disappointment, his shock, is too much to bear.

He doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring at you, his grip tightening on the laptop, like he’s trying to hold onto some version of reality that isn’t unraveling right in front of him. “Why?” He asks, his voice still low, but now there's something almost pleading in it. “Why are you looking at this?”

You blink, eyes glistening with tears that haven’t yet fallen. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s like the words are stuck in your throat. Finally, you force them out, barely a whisper. “Because … I don’t … I don’t look like them.”

Oscar frowns, confused. “Like who?”

“The other girls,” you say, your voice breaking now. “The other girlfriends. The WAGs. I’ll never … I’ll never look like them.”

Oscar just stares at you for a long moment, completely blindsided. “What are you talking about?”

You let out a shaky breath, finally looking at him, your eyes pleading for him to understand. “I see them, Oscar. Every time we go to a race, every time I’m at the paddock. They’re all so … perfect. Their bodies, their faces … they all look like they belong there. Like they’re meant to be with someone like you.”

He feels something twist painfully in his chest, something dark and heavy that he wasn’t prepared for. “And you think you don’t?”

You shake your head, blinking away tears. “I don’t. I mean, look at me. I’m not … I’m not like them.”

Oscar sets the laptop down on the coffee table, the sound of it hitting the wood sharp and final. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to push through the wave of disbelief that’s crashing over him. He steps closer to you, his hands reaching out, grabbing your arms gently but firmly, like he needs to hold you steady, like he needs to make sure you don’t slip away from him.

“Are you serious?” His voice is rough now, the controlled calm slipping. “You think you need to change something? For what? To look like them? To, what, fit in?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

“I can’t believe you’d even think this. I can’t believe you …” His voice trails off, and he releases your arms, stepping back like he needs the space to breathe, to think. "You’re not … them. You’re you. You’re the person I wake up next to every day, the person I chose. And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You think I care about … what? If you fit some stupid image of what a WAG is supposed to look like?”

You shake your head, but you’re still crying, silent tears that slide down your cheeks, and Oscar feels like his heart is breaking in a way he’s never known before. He steps closer again, softer this time, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your shoulders slump, and you wipe at your face, frustrated with yourself, with the tears, with the words that won’t stop spilling out. “Because I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to … fix it, or say something just to make me feel better. It’s my problem, not yours.”

“No,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “No, it’s not just your problem. It’s our problem. You’re my girlfriend. What affects you affects me, too. How could you think that changing yourself like that would fix anything?”

You look at him then, really look at him, and it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, like you didn’t expect this from him, this depth, this intensity.

“I just …” you start, and then falter, shaking your head. “I just feel like … I’m not enough.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’s never heard you say anything like that before, never thought you could feel that way. He takes another step closer, his hands finding yours, holding them tight. “You’re more than enough. You always have been.”

Oscar’s voice is steady, but there’s a fire in his eyes now, something burning there, something fierce. “You don’t need to change a damn thing about yourself. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

You let out a shaky breath, tears still spilling down your cheeks, and he reaches up, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb, his touch gentle, careful. “You’re perfect the way you are. I need you to see that. I need you to believe that.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, and for a moment, the world feels quiet again, like the storm that’s been raging inside you has finally begun to settle.

Oscar’s jaw tightens, and he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear. He presses his lips to the top of your head, murmuring against your hair, “I love you, just the way you are.”

And as he holds you, as the silence stretches between you, he makes a silent promise to himself. He’s going to show you. Every day. Until you see yourself the way he sees you.

The most beautiful woman in the world.

***

Oscar watches you sleep beside him, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful expression on your face. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, he can still see the faint traces of yesterday’s conversation lingering in your features. The vulnerability in your voice when you said you weren’t enough echoes in his head, and it’s all he can think about.

You had fallen asleep easily, but Oscar couldn’t. His mind had been racing, going over every word you said, every tear that slipped down your cheek. You didn’t see yourself the way he saw you, and that truth made his chest ache in ways he didn’t know were possible.

You stir slightly, your hand curling around the edge of the pillow, your face turning away from him as you sink deeper into sleep. His fingers itch to touch your cheek, but he holds back, not wanting to wake you.

Instead, he slips out of bed, moving silently across the room and into the hallway. He has to do something. He can’t just let you go on feeling this way, believing that you aren’t enough, that you need to change yourself to measure up to some imaginary standard.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down at the notification. It’s an email — one of the many he sent in the middle of the night, after tossing and turning with frustration and resolve. It’s the response he’s been waiting for.

Oscar’s thumb hovers over the screen for a second before he taps the email open. He skims it quickly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The installation can happen today.

It’s a risky plan, but Oscar’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. He’s already planned every detail down to the minute, ensuring that everything will be in place before you come home from work. The hardest part was keeping this a secret — and making sure the logistics didn’t fall through.

Money, thankfully, speeds things up.

Oscar pads back into the bedroom, careful not to make a sound as he crawls into bed beside you. His body is buzzing with excitement now, anticipation humming under his skin. He pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

You let out a sleepy murmur, shifting slightly in his arms, and he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering there.

“Good morning,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” His voice is soft, but there’s an energy behind it that you don’t seem to catch. Not yet.

You blink a few times, still disoriented from sleep, and roll over to face him. "You're up early."

“Just couldn’t sleep,” he says with a small smile. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to go in for a meeting,” you reply, rubbing your eyes. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

Oscar nods, trying to keep his excitement in check. “Good, good. I’ll probably just do some stuff around here. Get a workout in.”

You stretch, still half-asleep, and he watches you with a soft smile. He wonders if you’ll notice the change when you get home, or if it’ll take a little prompting. Either way, the plan is in motion, and there’s no going back now.

***

As soon as you leave the apartment, Oscar is a man on a mission. He paces the living room, waiting for the delivery crew to arrive. He checks his phone constantly, looking at the notifications from Life360 to track your movements. He doesn’t have much time, and every minute feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door.

He practically sprints to open it, greeting the installation team with an eager wave. "You guys are here. Great, come on in."

The lead installer, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense expression, steps inside, glancing around. "So, we’ve got the specs here. Full ceiling mirror in the bedroom, right?"

Oscar nods, ushering them down the hallway to the bedroom. "Yeah, I need it to cover the entire ceiling. Exactly like we discussed."

The installer inspects the space, his eyes scanning the ceiling as he whistles under his breath. "Alright, shouldn’t be too complicated. We’ll need a couple of hours to get everything up and secured."

Oscar glances at his phone, calculating the time. You’ve been gone for about an hour. There’s a small window — tight, but doable. "That’s fine. Just make sure it’s done before two. She’ll be back around then."

The installer raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. "We’ll get it done."

Oscar watches as they bring in the equipment, laying down protective sheets to keep the floor clean. The mirror panels are large, delicate things, and the precision required for the installation is intense. He finds himself pacing the hallway, his hands shoved into his pockets as he listens to the distant sounds of drills and hammers.

Everything has to be perfect.

He knows it’s a bold move. Some might even call it crazy. But Oscar doesn’t care. He wants you to see yourself every day, to have no choice but to confront the truth: you’re stunning, exactly as you are. He doesn’t need you to be one of those women in the paddock, doesn’t need you to conform to some ridiculous image. You, in all your imperfections, are everything he could ever want.

He glances at his phone again — two hours left. The installers are moving quickly, efficiently, but it still feels like time is slipping away faster than he can keep up with.

The crew works in near silence, their movements calculated and precise. They measure the ceiling, check the panels, and begin the painstaking task of securing each mirrored piece in place. Oscar hovers nearby, watching them work, his nerves jangling like live wires.

“How much longer do you think?” He asks, not for the first time.

The lead installer doesn’t look up from his work, but his tone is patient. “We’re on schedule, mate. We’ve done this a hundred times. Just give us a bit.”

Oscar nods, forcing himself to step back. He paces again, trying to distract himself with his phone, but his mind keeps drifting back to you — to your face when you told him you didn’t feel like you measured up.

He needs this to be perfect. For you.

At long last, the sound of the drill ceases, and the lead installer steps back, wiping his hands on a rag. He surveys the ceiling with a critical eye, then turns to Oscar with a nod. "All done."

Oscar steps into the bedroom, and his breath catches in his throat.

The mirror covers the entire ceiling, gleaming and pristine, reflecting the room in perfect detail. It’s stunning — sleek, modern, but most importantly, it’s exactly what he envisioned.

“Looks great,” the installer says, clearly satisfied with the job.

Oscar nods, still staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. It’s … perfect.”

The installers gather their things, and Oscar sees them out, barely able to contain his anticipation. He checks his phone one last time as the door closes behind them.

Life360 pings with a notification.

Y/N has arrived at home.

Oscar’s heart leaps into his throat. He has maybe five minutes before you walk through the door. He rushes back into the bedroom, doing a quick sweep to make sure everything is in place. The bed is made, the room is spotless, and the mirror … the mirror is flawless.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can hear your footsteps approaching the door now, the jingle of your keys as you unlock it.

This is it.

The door opens, and you step inside, calling out, “Oscar? You here?”

“In the bedroom!” He calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, casual.

You walk down the hallway, setting your bag on the floor as you approach. “I thought you were working out or something.”

Oscar stands by the bed, watching as you enter the room. For a second, you don’t notice it. You’re too busy taking off your jacket, distracted by the mundaneness of the day.

But then, as you move toward the bed, your eyes flicker upward, and you freeze.

“What the …”

Your voice trails off, your gaze locked on the ceiling, on the massive mirror that now dominates the room. You stand there, stunned, your mouth slightly open as you take it in.

Oscar watches you closely, his heart pounding. He takes a step closer, his voice low, almost tentative. “What do you think?”

You blink, still staring at the reflection above you. “You … put a mirror on the ceiling?”

He nods, stepping behind you, his hands finding your waist, pulling you gently back against him. “I wanted you to see yourself.”

Your eyes flick to his in the reflection, confusion mingling with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Oscar leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice soft but firm. “Every day, you’re going to wake up, and you’re going to look at yourself. You’re going to see what I see. The most beautiful woman in the world.”

You swallow, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “Oscar …”

He turns you around slowly, guiding you until you’re facing him. “You don’t need to change a thing. Not your nose, not your body. Nothing. You’re perfect, just like this.”

Oscar’s hands slide from your waist to your hips, slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave yours, but in the mirror above, he can see the reflection of both of you, bodies so close, your breath mingling with his. There’s a moment of quiet between you, tension hanging in the air like a thread about to snap.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low and steady. “Let me show you.”

Your breath hitches, and you bite your lip, your eyes flicking between his face and the mirror. You don’t say anything, but you don’t resist, either. You’re standing still, waiting, nervous but trusting him completely.

Oscar takes his time. He starts by pulling at the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing your skin as he lifts it slowly over your head. You lift your arms for him, and the shirt falls to the floor. His hands return to your hips, sliding up to your waist, fingers tracing the soft curve of your ribs, then higher.

You shiver under his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips, but he doesn’t rush. He’s watching you in the mirror, your body, your face, your eyes — taking in every reaction, every small shift in your expression.

“Look at yourself,” he says softly, his voice firm but gentle. His fingers move to the clasp of your bra, and with a quick flick, it comes undone. He pulls it away, tossing it aside, and you’re left standing in front of him, exposed.

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror, but you don’t linger on your own reflection. You quickly glance back at Oscar, as if seeking reassurance.

His hands are on you again, warm and steady, guiding you back toward the bed. He lowers you gently onto the mattress, your body sinking into the softness of the sheets, and you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling in your chest.

Oscar climbs onto the bed with you, his movements controlled, deliberate. He kneels beside you, his eyes burning with something deep, something raw, as he looks down at you. The mirror above reflects everything — the way your chest rises and falls, the soft flush creeping up your neck, the way your body reacts to the intensity of his gaze.

He reaches for the waistband of your pants, his fingers sliding under the fabric. “Lift your hips,” he murmurs, and you do as he asks, allowing him to peel the material away from your skin. The cool air of the room makes you shiver, but it’s the warmth of his hands that sends a surge of heat through you.

Oscar lets out a quiet hum of approval, his gaze tracing the lines of your body, admiring every inch of you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly, just above the waistband of your underwear, and you feel a jolt of electricity run through you.

“Look,” he whispers, his voice commanding yet soft. “Look at yourself.”

You hesitate, your eyes flicking toward the mirror but not quite settling on your reflection. You’re still unsure, still caught in the doubt that’s been gnawing at you for so long.

But Oscar won’t let you hide.

He trails his kisses up your body, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, then higher, to the sensitive skin near your collarbone. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips barely leaving your skin. “You’re perfect.”

You close your eyes, trying to absorb his words, trying to believe them, but the insecurity lingers.

Oscar’s hand moves lower, sliding down your body, his fingers grazing the waistband of your underwear again, but this time he tugs them down, pulling them off completely. You’re laid bare before him now, vulnerable, exposed, but you trust him. You trust him with everything.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, and you feel the heat of his body so close to yours. His hands find your thighs, gently parting them, and he leans down, his breath hot against your skin. His lips press a kiss to your inner thigh, and you shudder, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

“Oscar,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he moves higher, his mouth tracing a path up your thigh until his lips are where you need them most. The first touch of his tongue is slow, deliberate, and it sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

You gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed, your hands flying to grip the sheets tighter. He takes his time, his tongue moving in slow, measured strokes, teasing you, building the heat in your core until it feels like you’re going to unravel.

But he doesn’t let you. Not yet.

His hand moves up your body, finding your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in the same slow, teasing rhythm. Your breath comes in ragged gasps now, and your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

“Look at yourself,” Oscar says again, his voice low and commanding. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You force your eyes open, glancing up at the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, your body laid out beneath Oscar, your skin flushed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You see the way his hand moves over you, the way his mouth works between your legs, and it’s a surreal, intimate moment — seeing yourself through his eyes, the way he sees you.

You bite your lip, a moan escaping your throat as Oscar increases the pressure, his tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that makes your legs tremble. You feel the tension building inside you, the heat growing unbearable, but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls back.

You let out a desperate whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily toward him, but he doesn’t relent.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice firm. He leans up, his body hovering over yours now, his face inches from yours. “Not until you say it.”

You blink up at him, breathless and confused. “Say what?”

“Say you’re beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Say it, and I’ll let you come.”

Your heart races in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment crashing into you. You’ve never said those words, not out loud, not with any kind of conviction. But the way Oscar looks at you, the way his hands move over your body, it makes you want to believe it — makes you want to see yourself the way he does.

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you whisper, “I’m beautiful.”

Oscar’s eyes darken with approval, but he’s not done. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Say it again. Louder.”

Your body is aching for release, every nerve on fire, but you know he won’t let you have it until you give him what he wants — what you need to believe.

“I’m beautiful,” you say again, louder this time, your voice shaky but filled with more certainty.

Oscar’s hand moves between your legs again, his fingers teasing you, his touch deliberate, precise. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now say it one more time. Like you mean it.”

You gasp as his fingers press against that bundle of nerves again, your body writhing beneath him, the pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. But you force yourself to say it, to believe it, because in this moment, you do.

“I’m beautiful,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the force of the admission.

And that’s when Oscar lets you go.

His mouth is on you again, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, and the pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. You arch off the bed, your hands flying to his hair, your body trembling as you finally, finally fall over the edge.

Oscar doesn’t stop. He keeps his pace steady, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, until you’re shaking, gasping for breath, your body limp and boneless beneath him.

When you finally come down, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears, Oscar moves up beside you, his body pressing against yours, his arm wrapping around your waist.

He kisses your forehead, his voice soft but firm as he whispers, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe him.

[pastorpresent]

When the dust settled of what Wade dubbed their 'super awesome Madonna world saving sacrifice', (don't fucking ask, god knows Logan doesn't) the TVA had offered to hire their services to round up variants that incorrectly stumbled into their universe. With a fucking paycheck.

Logan had been trying (and failing) to find work for a few weeks by that point. It was sort of difficult when he had no tangible work history in this universe, with no references that could actually be called. Or a social security number. Or a bank account. Or any form of ID, really.

Wade had already quickly agreed on both their behalfs, and Logan got the feeling he just needed a valid excuse to put the suit on now and again between his monotonous shifts at the dealership.

The only catch was that they had to undergo a physical and mental health assessment before hand.

He'd passes the physical with flying colours. The mental one... not so much. They'd still 'hired' him, but when he was given a folder with information regarding each fucking problem he had mentally, they'd heavy implied he needed to work on it to keep his job.

His plan had been to chuck it in the trash, or burn the fucker, but it'd slipped his mind to do either by the time they'd gotten home because Wade started trying to cook pasta for dinner and almost set the entire place on fire, somehow.

He left it on the side and Wade, being the nosy fucker he was, had of course read it.

There was a lot of shit Logan expected to find in there - depression, ptsd, alcoholism... stuff he didn't exactly need some fancy fucking doctor to tell him he had. A six year old could probably glance his way and identify that he needed antidepressants.

The one that he'd thought was odd, and the one Wade seemed to latch onto, was 'touch deprivation'.

The thing was, Wade was a shithead. He practically made it his goal whenever he walked into a room to be the most annoying person in that room. Usually successfully.

But he was also... good. He was a good person, despite what people might say to him. He wanted to help him, which was... sweet, he supposed.

A lot of the stuff in there was a bit tricky to 'fix', probably requiring some sort of medication or therapy (Logan point blank refused both) but a couple of things, Wade seemed hellbent on helping him with.

There was never any liquor in their apartment, for starters. Whenever Logan would buy any, it would go mysteriously missing the following day. Al didn't even know it had been there, and Wade was a shit liar with his innocent little shrug when Logan would ask.

Ar first it pissed him off but, well, Wade was just trying to help, and he was - helping, that is. Logan was actually sober more than he was drunk these days - which hasn't happened in at least a decade.

The 'touch deprivation' was another Wade seemed hell bent on helping with.

The merc was already tactile with his friends. Logan had seen him drape an arm over their shoulder, side hug them as they walked somewhere, hug them goodbye.

It seemed he dialled it up to a thousand with him, though.

If they both happened to be in the kitchen, Wade was brushing up against him every few seconds, murmuring apologies as he all but pressed against him under the guise of trying to move somewhere or reach something.

When they were out, Wade would let their arms and hands brush up against each other. If Logan was pushing the cart in the store, Wade would 'accidently' rest his hand over his on the handle bar.

It was little stuff, things that somebody on the outside of them would probably not even notice, until one night on the couch.

They'd been running around for the TVA all day, and Logan was irritable and exhausted. He felt about ready to claw his own skin off out of general frustration, built up from a day of shitty, all over the place missions.

They'd both showered and were sat watching gossip girl, but he just couldn't settle. He was switching position every few seconds, growling under his breath every time his discomfort returned, and he must've been annoying the fuck out of Wade, he thought.

After maybe an hour - and Logan wasn't going to cry, but he damn sure felt like it, Wade sighed next to him.

Logan immediately found himself growing defensive, ready to argue that it wasn't his fucking fault his skin felt all tingly and wrong, and that the couch was too soft, or that there was a dumb ache in his chest that he didn't understand.

Wade didn't start arguing though. Instead, he lifted an arm in invitation.

Logan stared at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. How many hits to the head had he taken today? Could his regenerative abilities repair concussion or should Logan be taking him to a fucking hospital?

"Come on, peanut. Let me help," Wade said, which only confused Logan more. He didn't even know what was wrong- so how did Wade reckon he could fix it?

"I'm fine," he gritted out with a glare, trying to keep still to prove his point but fuck, his skin felt painful and tight.

"Alright," Wade held his hands up in surrender before letting them drop, turning back to the TV.

Logan watched him for a few seconds, then scoffed loudly, moving to lay a bit more on the arm rest.

It felt like it was digging into his ribs. He scratched his arm, barely resisting the urge to unsheathe his claws. He adjusted to lie back into the cushions. He sunk in too much, and the soft cushions felt like sandpaper against his on-fire skin.

Something dangerously close to a whimper escaped his lips, and he had to blink back a dampness building in his vision. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Lo," he thought Wade had went back to focusing on the show, but apparently he'd been wrong, because the merc was staring at him with soft, concerned eyes, and Logan wanted to scream.

"What?" Logan snipped, but it was missing any of the intended edge.

"Let me try and help. No one else is here, it's just us - and if you don't like it, you can just sit back up," Wade lifted an arm again, an invitation for Logan to curl up against him and... it pissed him off how nice that sounded.

He hesitated for a few moments longer. Too long, really, and he expected Wade to rescind the offer entirely out of impatience.

He didn't. He just adjusted himself to be more sprawled back against the couch cushions, parting his legs a little and keeping his arm raised.

Logan made a defeated noise in the back of his throat, crawling closer. He hovered awkwardly between Wade's legs, unsure how to proceed, and Wade just gently pushed on his shoulders to get him to lie down, his head and upper torso covering Wade's chest and lower body.

He worried he'd be too heavy for Wade, but the younger man didn't seem bothered whatsoever. Perks of him being built pretty indestructible, probably.

"Good boy," he praised quietly, running his hand through Logan's hair. Essentially petting him, really, and Logan couldn't explain it but it's like everything in his head and everything with his body quietened down. He could breathe again, and he found himself going boneless against the younger man.

He wrapped his arms around Wade's torso, nuzzling into his stomach with a content sound, his eyes slipping shut as Wade continued to play with his hair, stroke over his back, brush fingers over his neck, calming the burn of his skin wherever they went.

It became a regular occurrence after that. Every night when they settled down to watch TV, Wade would wordlessly lift an arm, and Logan would wordlessly crawl over to lie against him. Sometimes they reversed it, because Logan discovered that having Wade lying atop of him felt incredibly grounding. Usually though, he'd be the one pressed up against the merc, tangled around him like some sort of extra clingy and extra heavy octopus. Wade would always 'pet' him, mumbling occasional praise as he ran gentle fingers over his body, scratching his scalp or dragging blunt nails over his back and arms.

Logan didn't realise how desperately he needed the touch until it was gone.

They'd been arguing all day. It was all stupid shit, really - moreso driven by the fact they hadn't had a mission in a while. Wade grew antsy if he'd been out of commission too long, and if he had to work so many back to back shifts at the dealership. And Logan grew irritable being stuck in the tiny apartment with no real purpose all day.

He'd went to the store and bought himself a bottle of whiskey to occupy his mind, to stop the thoughts of his old found family dead on the ground from a fight he could've aided in leaking into his brain.

Wade, as usual, had poured it down the drain. Something that, ordinarily, Logan would've been pissed about but let drop fairly quickly- because despite what others may think of him, his sort of almost sobriety did matter to him. It mattered to Wade too, which is why Logan never usually got all that mad at him for pouring perfectly good alcohol down the drain.

Maybe it was because of the irritation already brewing within them both, or maybe it was because Logan had really been relying on loosing himself in that bottle, but the argument quickly spiralled out of hand.

"You can't just pour out my shit, Wade!" Logan yelled, gesturing to the now empty bottle.

"Yeah, I'm being totally unreasonable. Next time I'll let you drink yourself into a stupor, pinky fucking promise!" Wade yelled back.

"You had no fucking right!"

"Do you think I want to, huh?! You think I just love having to control your alcohol intake like your some sixteen year old girl who discovered fucking smirnoff for the first time?!"

"Then fucking don't! I don't need you to do anything for me! I managed by myself for two hundred fucking years, I don't fucking need you, and I certainly don't fucking want you!" Logan shouted, probably loud enough that they'd get complaints from the neighbours later.

The ensuing silence felt even louder.

He regretted it immediately. He didn't mean it, and he knew that as soon as he'd said it. Because yeah, he might be able to survive by himself- but that's all it ever was. Fucking survival.

Wade showed him how to live.

He was still too angry to take any of it back, though. To admit he'd crossed a line.

"Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want, Logan," and Wade left, their bedroom door slamming echoing throughout the whole apartment.

They avoided each other for days. Even when they were together, there was silence. Wade didn't crack any of his usual jokes. They ate in silence. They stopped waking up tangled up in one another, and Wade no longer opened an arm in invitation when they were sharing the couch alone. No hand over hand on the cart, or arms brushing in the street, none of it.

Logan didn't give a shit, obviously. He bought ridiculous amounts of alcohol and drank until he passed out on their kitchen floor, waking up a few hours later cover in his own vomit and Mary Puppins peering at him curiously. Even the fucking dog was judging him.

It was the week mark, and Logan actually hadn't had a drink that day. Only because he had ran dry on money to buy any, and he'd considered stealing some but thought it wouldn't be worth losing his job with the TVA. He did maybe try drinking some of Al's nail polish remover, but he was halfway into the bottle when he realised she used the type that was fucking alcohol free.

Not his proudest moment.

His body already felt weary from the slight pulls of withdrawal when he sat on his end of the couch, purposefully not glancing Wade's way. It was very much like how he'd felt when he stopped drinking so much in this universe. The tiredness that ate down to his bones, the cravings niggling his brain constantly.

He already didn't feel great - but then the itching started, and it got intense fast.

His efforts to keep still were futile. It was so much worse than the first time around, and worse still because he knew what was missing, and it was his own fault he didn't have it anymore.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? 'Hey I know I said I didn't need you and to stop treating me like a child, but if you don't cuddle me right now I might fucking explode'.

No. He couldn't do that.

Everything hurt. He couldn't draw a breath in properly, and even the feeling of his clothes against his skin felt fucking wrong. Like it was too... light.

The final straw was when one of those tears welling in his eyes actually escaped, rolling down his cheek. He wiped at it harshly, and got up without another word, heading straight for their bedroom.

He couldn't let Wade see him like this. He was fucking pathetic.

He stripped down to his boxers, needing the stupid fabric to stop touching him, and got onto their bed. The covers felt scratchy, and he kicked them away with a growl. In the process of his aggressive attempts to find a comfortable position, he got a whiff of a familiar scent.

Wades. Wade's pillow smelt exactly like him.

It was the first time since the itching feeling started that he felt some sembelence of calm. His skin still burnt, but he could sort of zone it out for a moment.

He tried to turn away. To ignore it, because it was fucking stupid, but he didn't last long before he was grabbing the pillow and pulling it towards him, pressing his face into it and inhaling deeply.

He didn't remember when he started crying, but the pillow was soon wet with tears. He was so fucking stupid. Utterly fucking ridiculous - a grown ass man crying into a pillow because, what? He didn't have someone playing with his fucking hair?

He was so, so beyond furious at himself. At how ridiculous he was, and at how massively he'd managed to mess everything up.

Wade was good. He was bad. He should've known from the get go that he'd fuck it all up.

"Jesus, Logan," the soft gasp startled him from his thoughts abruptly, and he panicked. He sat up, shoving the pillow aside despite the fact Wade had seen exactly what he was doing.

Maybe he'd get lucky and one of those stupid ring portals would appear beneath him and send him elsewhere. Anywhere, really- he didn't care, it would be better than this.

"What?"

The biting tone wasn't all that effective when he had to scrub at his eyes to get rid of the tears.

It didn't even work anyway. They wouldn't fucking stop now that he'd let them start, and the fact Wade had caught him sitting there breathing in dredges of his scent while fucking crying - maybe part of it was just the utter humiliation of it all.

"Oh, Lo. It's alright," Wade murmured, and then he was shutting the door and crossing the room, climbing onto the bed.

He reached out, but seemed to hesitate, his arm dropping, "can I touch you?"

Logan only cried harder, his body practically vibrating, as if it was attempting to force him to move closer even unconsciously. He gave a jerky nod, "please."

Wade was on him in an instant, pulling him in so tight that to anyone without super strength and regenerating abilities, it would probably hurt.

Logan didn't care. He needed more. The fire was tamed, but it was still there, the embers tickling his body and threatening to overtake him again.

His hands tugged at the hem of Wade's shirt, seeking permission. He needed the stupid itchy fabric gone. The press of it was too soft and gentle. He needed skin. Needed something solid. Needed Wade, now.

"Shirt off?" Wade clarified, and Logan nodded where his head was tucked into the crook of his neck.

He hadn't accounted for the fact that they'd have to break their embrace to do it.

Wade tried to pull back, but Logan gasped, digging his nails in and keeping himself plastered to Wade's front.

"I'm not going anywhere, peanut. I'm just taking my clothes off, alright? I'm not leaving you, I swear," Wade put both hands on the side of his face, lifting it so he could look into his eyes as he spoke, the pad of his thumb wiping away his tears.

Logan reluctantly let go, shivering violently when everything hit him again.

Wade made quick work of stripping off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. He lay down, and opened his arm.

Logan could've started crying again in relief. He all but dove at the younger man, burying his face away in his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him. Wade held him tightly, pulling him in enough so their bodies were pressed together solidly.

He lifted a hand and started stroking his hair, shushing him softly and rocking their bodies a little.

"I'm sorry. 'M so sorry, I didn't mean any of it," and ordinarily he might very been reluctant to say it, never being all that good at swallowing down his perceived pride, but it felt too important not to say.

Because despite everything, Wade had came in here to check on him. He could've just continued to watch TV. He could've so easily made fun of him for what he'd walked into, mocking how fucking stupid he was, and walked straight back out. He could've and should've done all of that, but he didn't. Because he was Wade, and he was good, and Logan would never fully understand what positivity he put out into the world to earn him.

"I know, me neither. Just calm down, Lo. It's all good now, I've got you," Wade assured, squeezing tighter, and Logan made a small satisfied sound, nosing at Wade's chest and then his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and body wash.

The itching had ceased, but he still felt like he needed more, like it wasn't enough until he sliced Wade open and crawled inside of him, curled up contently next to his beating heart, burrowed beneathe his ribs.

He didn't verbalise it, but Wade seemed to understand, as usual.

"On your back, baby," he directed, and Logan did so without complaint.

Wade moved with him, lying on top of him completely, tangling their legs together, a solid weight pressing him into the mattress, and ironically enough he finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good boy. You're so good, peanut," Wade hummed, running fingers over his shoulders. Logan disagreed, but he was too out of it to really argue. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, hovering out of his body.

He didn't realise he was biting until Wade let out a soft sound above him, and the metallic taste filled his mouth.

"Fuck, sorry I... I didn't realise," he tried to move away, eyes wide, but Wade shushed him again, his expression something fond.

"Does it help?" Wade asked simply, and Logan swallowed. It did. It was... it was like Wade felt closer to him, somehow.

"Mhm, but don't wanna hurt you," he felt almost drunk, his words slurring a little as he watched the small wound on Wade's shoulder close up.

"I'll heal, angel. Have at it," Wade tilted his head in invitation, and Logan nosed at his neck for a moment, still not entirely sure, before sticking out the tip of his tongue and licking experimentally. He moaned softly at the taste of Wade on his taste buds, pressing his nose against his adams apple simultaneously to breathe him in. He let his teeth sink in lightly, nibbling at the sensitive area.

Wade groaned atop of him, and Logan went to pull away, but the merc held him there by the back of his head, "keep going. Please, Lo," and he sounded breathless and needy, and it made Logan growl with animalistic possessiveness, biting down a bit harder, blood running to the surface, which he quickly lapped up.

He couldn't really tell who connected lips first, he was fairly certain it was him, but it didn't really matter ultimately. They were high off one another, Wade grinding down while Logan rutted up, both of them rock solid against each other.

Logan bit at his lip, drawing blood before licking it away filthily, dragging his nails all over every surface of Wade he could reach. He needed him. He needed him so fucking badly. He wanted to worship every square inch of him then crawl beneathe his skin and make a home there.

He reached between them, wrapping a hand around Wade's length, but the merc caught his wrist, using the other hand to grip Logan's jaw and direct their eyes to meet.

"Logan," he knew vaguely that Wade wanted him to listen, but he was too busy whining beneathe him, pushing his hips up trying to chase the friction that every cell in his body was fucking screaming for. He didn't want to stop, and he didn't get why Wade was making him.

"Logan. Hey, eyes on me, peanut," Wade ordered firmly, and Logan finally reluctantly ceased his movements, blinking Wade's face into his focus.

"How are you feeling?"

And Logan huffed, glaring a little, because did Wade really stop what they were doing just to ask him that? Seriously?

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, trying to go for Wade's mouth again, but found himself held down by a hand against his bare chest.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that before we go any further, peanut. Especially with how upset you were just twenty minutes ago," Wade was stroking a hand through his hair again, and the calmness that filled his body from the touch was enough to get him to settle down just a little, sinking into the bed and giving up his valiant mission of jerking off against Wade's solid form.

"I just need to know you're okay, and I need to know you're doing this because you want it, not just because you feel like you need it."

"I want it. I want it a lot," he said after a few seconds, looking up at Wade. It was the most vulnerable he'd felt in forever, and all he could do was hope that Wade took that and handled it carefully.

Wade smiled, kissing Logan firmly. Logan gasped into it, letting his mouth open wider, inviting Wade in to explore as he pleased.

Wade pulled away suddenly, and Logan very almost ripped his head off of his shoulders in order to keep him close.

"Easy, boy. I'm just trying to sort you out," Wade explained with fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers.

It was ridiculous, but he wasn't certain he could handle the younger man's body weight leaving him. That press, being able to feel every inch of Wade against him, it was the only thing keeping him tethered in reality. He couldn't handle his skin setting alight again. Especially not when he had went a whole week without Wade's touch.

"Baby," and something about Wade calling him that made him want to crumble. Want to get onto his knees and suck him off and worship him like he deserved, because he must be a God- that's the only explanation as to how he can breathe a single word and make Logan unravel. Because he'd never been that. He'd never been anyone's 'baby', because no one ever bothered to be tender with him before. He was The Wolverine. He was supposed to be rough, and rugged, and maybe 'handsome', but never 'pretty'. Never 'baby'.

And yet everytime it rolled off of Wade's tongue it was so genuine, so sweet and caring, and it was almost like a permission slip for Logan to let the gruff exterior drop just for a minute, and be somebody's 'baby'. Be Wade's 'baby'.

"You don't want me to leave, peanut? You want me to stay on top of you?" Wade asked, because he was genuinely bothered by the idea of Logan not being one million percent happy with this experience.

Logan found his mouth and kissed him again. This one was gentle. So, so gentle. No blood or biting or back and forth - just a barely there press of lips. A thank you, sealed away in a kiss.

"Please," he answered quietly, speaking it into Wade's parted mouth, "I just... I need to know you're here, I think. I need to..." he trailed off, unsure how to finish.

How could he verbalise that he needed to feel him so completely, that he needed Wade everywhere all over him, all at once? How could he say that without scaring him away entirely?

Maybe that would be for the best, in all honesty. He couldn't be so damn reliant - not when Wade had a fucking life to live. A future to build. Why should he put that on hold just because Logan crash landed into his reality?

He should be going on dates with Vanessa right now, trying to fix things. Or hanging out with his actual friends. He should be doing a lot of things- but trying to fix something in Logan that had been irreparably smashed to pieces years ago was not one of them.

"I need- we need to stop," he spoke, even as every cell in his body was screaming no, fuck no.

Wade frowned, the hand that had been tracing over his arms pausing.

"What?"

"I can't. I can't do it. I can't."

He couldn't drag Wade down into the fucking abyss. He couldn't force him to live out his eternity like this.

"Okay, that's okay peanut. You want me to get off of you?" Wade offered, and Logan nodded.

It killed him, but he nodded.

Wade lifted up, manoeuvring onto the edge of the bed.

Logan wanted to throw up, that cold and empty feeling returning to his gut, spreading through all of his limbs like poison. 'This is good, Wade is good, you are bad' was like a mantra in his head, growing louder and louder until all Logan could hear was the rapid thumping of his own heart and those words, screamed, being etched across his organs like a warning.

Maybe the repeated frying of his brain was finally catching up to him.

"Logan, what's wrong?"

Logan wanted to tear his own fucking skin off.

"Did- was it too much? Did I go too far? I'm sorry, I just thought it's what you wanted," Wade was apologising, he was fucking apologising, and Logan was barely holding it the fuck together, his chest tightening.

"No. No, it's... I need to be alone," he choked on the last word, as if his body was physically fighting him from saying it.

Wade was looking at him with a small frown, reaching out for his hand resting on the mattress which Logan quickly moved away.

He'd never forget the look of hurt etched onto the others face. He might very well of tried to hide it, but he caught the flash of upset that filled Wade's features so intensely for just a moment.

"Of course. Yeah, sorry. I'll just," Wade gestured vaguely to the bedroom door before all but racing out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Logan sighed shakily, curling up on himself and trying in vain to stop the tears coming.

Part 2 up now

[thesassypadawan]

Too Sweet (Clay x FemReader)

Summary: You'd do anything to make Clay happy, to be with him the rest of your life. Let him own, use. Even put a baby in you, if that’s what it takes.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Mission, slight baby trapping, manipulative/possessive Clay, and… his thick, long dick.

Notes: Follow Up Fic: Sweet Treat! 🧡🖤

- So much semen stains the sheets… Paints your plush thighs… Coats your gummy walls…

- To the public, Clay is a gentleman. The charming, doting boyfriend who takes you out for fancy dinners. Whisks you away on romantic trips, buys you the most darling things. Treats you with respect, like a lady.

- Behind closed doors though, he's something much different…

- Licking away your tears. His long fingers graze over your stomach, silently reminding that all of you belongs to him…of the role you now play.

- “Good…girl.” Cooing softly, his larger body looms above your vulnerable one. Surrounding, caging you in. Thrusting steadily, smirking at your blotchy face. “Good good…girl.”

- Legs spread wide, hiked up onto his hips. You wriggle, writhe beneath him. Mewling weakly as he pulls out, feeling his hot cum leak from your abused cunt. “Nngh, it-it’s too much…”

- “No, it’s not enough.” Only to have it rammed back inside when he surges forward again. Pushing it deeper, further…grinding against, ensuring you’re filled to the brim. “Unless you don’t want to make me happy.”

- Involuntarily, you clench. Brain foggy, so overstimulated. Pussy swollen, burning from the stretch…from the sheer amount of overuse. You let out a small whimper, shakily reaching for him. “I do…I just can’t take…”

- Pressing a tender kiss to your palm, he picks up the pace. “You can…” Big hands grip your waist firmly. His neck tensing, hitting that lovely spot inside…turning you into even more of a babbling mess. “…and will.”

- Before you can protest, he leans down. Nuzzling your neck; nipping, sucking gently. Lips trailing along your collarbone. “You give me a baby….”

- Hot breath fans across your skin, goosebumps forming. “…I'll reward you with a ring.” Teeth barely graze, tongue teases. “Understood?”

- Biting hard, you cry out. Back arching feebly, hips trying desperately to meet his. Eyes squeeze shut, feeling yourself grow impossibly tight around his thick length. “Y-yes, sir!”

- A low groan escapes him, gravelly voice rumbling through you. “That’s…my little angel.” Drives become sloppy, wild. “Always so obedient, well behaved.” Balls slap heavily, lewdly. “Too sweet…for me.”

- Movements stutter and he plunges brutally one last time. Sending you unwilling over the edge. Nails scratching at his broad shoulders, scrambling to anchor yourself. While he pumps another load of sticky cum straight into your already packed womb.

- “Good…girl.” Panting, Clay props himself up. Blue eyes meeting yours, a hungry glint shining in them. As they sweep over your prone form, smug look on his handsome. “Good good…”

- “…mama.” Resting his hand over your stomach. Pressing lightly, rubbing soothing circles into your taunt flesh. “Taking everything, letting me stuff you like this…making you completely mine.”

- Hiccupping, fresh tears roll down your cheeks. In no way are you ready; prepared for the responsibility, for such a life altering change. But… “Clay, I-”

- Strong arms wrap around, pulling you into his warm embrace. Showering you with affection, cock still nestled inside. “You're going to be so beautiful, so cute and round. Totally helpless, dependent on me for everything. And you'll love it…love it as much as me.”

- …it makes him happy and that's all you exist for. Even if it means ruining your body with back-to-back pregnancies, throwing away your freedom. You'll do it all for him…all so you can be his forever. “Yes, I'll lo-love it. Just as much as you…h-hubby.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @anakinstwinklebunny, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @beresfordsgirl, @kenmaiica, @sythethecarrot, @xx-ttamaraa, @everydaydreamer, @rafeswifeyy2

[suiana]

(yandere! fan x gn! idol reader) (cw: murder, stalking, slight nsfw, yandere stuff)

Yoon-Jae likes to think of himself as your biggest fan.

He buys all your albums, attends all your fan-meets, hell, he even buys all your merch! He just wants to support his favourite idol after all.

You deserve it. Really.

He still remembers how you used to be laughed at by the other students for being a nerd.

You, his old high school classmate, the one he's always pined after even when you were a cute geeky nerd that got teased on a daily basis. Those were good times, he thinks. Before your rise to stardom and exposure to the rest of the world. When times were simpler and you were just someone he had a huge crush on because you were so his type. You two didn't even talk to one another but he had already decided that you were his crush. His first and only crush.

Yoon-Jae still finds it hard to believe that time has already passed by just like that. It's been a good couple of years since you two were in the same class, he still can't believe it. Cute, nerdy, and a little bit of a loser. Sure he knows he's popular and attractive, but opposites attract don't they?

He remembers it like yesterday, to when he first decided to act on his growing feelings for you.

It started out with small things. Following you around in public, being your own personal paparazzi. A little click here and there never hurt anyone. Not when you were so beautifully going about doing your things. His breath always hitches whenever he brings his camera up to his shaky blue eyes to snap another picture of you. The perfect you.

It was like you were made for the spotlight. Made for the cameras. I mean, how could you not be? You're perfect. Everything about you is like a blessing from the god's above. Your smiles, your laughter, the way your face would flush a little from laughing too much... Everything about you needed to be framed in a mueseum. Truly a work of art.

Click, Click, Click.

His camera fired away at everything you did. Even the most mundane of things. The tall Korean man estimates he probably had taken about 5000 pictures of you on a day to day basis back when you both were still students. If you ask his present self how many pictures he takes on a daily basis now it would probably be 2 or 3 times more than what he used to take.

In any case, he finds it a little cute how you were completely oblivious to his photo-taking. How you went around your day-to-day life while remaining blissfully unaware of the photos he shot of you.

Then things got a bit worse.

He thought it wasn't enough to just follow you around outside. No, he needed a glimpse into your private life, the one you kept behind closed doors. Yoon-Jae thought it would help him learn more about you.

And it did. It helped him to learn more about your character. About the person that hid behind a pair of thick round glasses and a nervous stutter when around others in class. The person he saw through a rose-eyed lens.

It was as though he got a glimpse into your soul.

So of course he had to continue breaking into your house to see you in your private space. Of course he had to install cameras in your room to observe how you acted when no one else was around. Of course he had to watch you 24/7. Of course he had to.

It was cute seeing you dance and sing around like some famous idol. Your voice was always so soothing that he'd fall asleep while watching you. This was something he never thought the cute little nerd in his class would enjoy doing. But if it makes you happy he'll be more than happy to support it. You were already an idol in his eyes anyway. It's even better if you wanted to act like a real one.

To be honest, he had secretly hoped you'd notice him. He finds it arousing to say the least. To be caught doing such an intimate thing with his beloved muse... It sends his heart racing, sweat rolling down the sides of his pale forehead as his member strains painfully against his sweatpants.

But you never did and he can't tell whether it's a blessing or a curse that you were so oblivious. No matter, the dark haired man can wait. He's always been patient after all. It's something his mom praised him for since he was young.

The more he learned about you, the more Yoon-Jae couldn't help but be a little peeved that you were still being bullied. He couldn't understand why such a sweet thing like yourself would get teased and called names for liking things so passionately. It's cute. So very adoravle. And he absolutely hated it that others would make fun of you for it. He hated it.

So he decided to get rid of them. What is the point of their lives if they couldn't appreciate the perfection that you are? They are the scum of the earth. Vermin who didn't deserve to live.

His usually neat and tidy appearance was a mess by the time he was done getting rid of the first person. He still regrets wear his favourite white shirt to get rid of all these pests. Their filth got all over him after all, blood and tears staining his pristine clothes.

Yoon-Jae remembers his mother horrified expression as she immediately clutched his arms, asking if he was hurt. He had to repeatedly reassure her that he was fine and just doing it for you. Her face immediately relaxed after that.

"You found your other half then? Are they like your father?"

"Mom it's not-"

"You should bring them back soon. I want to meet my son's beloved! I've been waiting for this day for so long!"

The Korean guy was so confused by his mother's words. Love? He never saw what he was doing as love. He thought it was just... doing what he should do. You're perfect so he should devote himself to you. That's how things are, no?

He started questioning himself after that. Did he... love you? Really? I mean, yeah, he did have a crush but it couldn't be love, could it? Love is a really strong word... He thinks he's just giving you the attention and affection you deserve.

In the midst of getting rid of his final victim, he decided to spill his heart out to them.

"I just... I don't know whether I really love them, you know? Like... I'm doing all this but... It's more like, I want them to be safe and protected from all the bad people. And yeah, maybe I wanna get with them too but that's not very important, is it?"

"U-uh..."

His soft black locks stick to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving slightly as he continues talking about his feelings to the half dead person. Maybe they'll give him some enlightenment? I mean, they decided to harm you... They should at least give him some advice, no?

"Hey, what do you think? Since you decided to make fun of them you probably know right?"

"I-I don't know-"

"What was that?"

"I meant you probably love them! P-Please don't kill me!"

And just like that, it was like a switch was flipped in his brain.

He made quick work of the person... Well, at least they were useful in the end. He supposes they're not totally good for nothing.

Yoon-Jae decides to confess to you the next day. He brings in flowers and sprays his special cologne. He's positive that you'll reject him today, but he doesn't care. He'll just continue to confess until you finally give in and love him back. You're bound to fall for him one day or another.

Sadly, his luck completely failed him that day and you weren't anywhere in sight. At all.

He spent the whole day asking about your whereabouts, fretting over your well-being as his minds spirals into a states of paranoia. Were you kidnapped? Did someone hurt you? Sick? Where the hell were you?!

And that's when he heard it. You got scouted by an entertainment company and moved to a school closer to your agency.

An idol. You were going to become an idol.

It was as though his heart had stopped and his whole world was flipped upside down. Oh.

Oh.

The realization that you were actually going to stand on a grand stage with hundreds of thousands of eyes on you finally settled in and his heart couldn't help but swell with pride. His idol, his beloved idol. The one he loved and would protect to death. Yoon-Jae couldn't help but feel satisfied knowing that some person finally realized your potential. Took them long enough, he mumbles while walking back home with the bouquet of flowers.

Was he sad that he couldn't confess to you? Sure, yeah he was. He's not going to deny it or lie. It really fucking hurt when you weren't there to witness his confession. But the fact that you had actually gone to become an idol... That made everything all better.

He'd finally be able to worship and love you like you were meant to be worshipped. An idol. His idol. He'd be able to prattle and gush about you without receiving any weird looks. Everyone else will be doing the same thing anyway. They can't and won't be able to judge him. In fact, they'd be understanding of why he's so obsessive over you. You're perfect, he repeats. Such perfection is worth losing his mind over. He's sure everyone would agree.

He can't help but grin in excitement as he anticipates your debut. A cute concept? A sexy concept? Both? He thinks that you'd suit everything.

When you finally debuted he feels like he could die at that second. You, in all your glory, was standing in the middle of a stage. A soloist. The sole star of the show. He's glad your agency hadn't put you in a group. He'd feel bad for your other members, already knowing that you'd outshine them all. It's not even up for debate.

It's no surprise that Yoon-Jae's the first to buy all your merchandise. The first one to book tickets to all your shows and fan meets. He's in the front row screaming your name with his heart, blue eyes all wide and cheeks flushed as he publicly displays his devotion for you.

You don't notice him at first, but as time goes by and he continues to support you, he's become a familiar face amongst your ever growing crowd. Yoon-Jae. You hadn't realized that the popular guy in your old class had liked your music so earnestly. Maybe it was a safe haven from the horrible deaths back in your old school. You believed your music to be comforting after all.

His slender hands intertwine with yours as he appears at your fan meet for the nth time. He comes bearing more gifts than before, way too excited to chat to you one-on-one again.

"Darling, darling! You look amazing like usual! I bought this expensive cartier necklace for you today. Do you want me to put it on for you?"

"Haha, of course. You're my sweetest fan! Come put it on for me?"

The lines between idol and fan slowly start to blur to him. Yoon-Jae thinks that you truly mean what you say whereas you were just doing what an idol does. Fan-service.

But Yoon-Jae doesn't care about that. Why would he? You're his other half. He even got his mother to watch your content with him. She says she's eager to meet her son's future spouse. His father is a little bit more reserved, always hiding in his room and reading quietly, not wanting to talk to him. Whatever, he'll meet you one on one when the time comes. And you'll be his when the time comes. Though he loves you as an idol, he loves you as his lover more. The tall black haired guy is already counting down the days to when your contract ends.

For now, he'll continue supporting you as your biggest fan. He always will be your biggest fan even after your career too. You're an idol in his eyes through and through and nothing will change that.

Nothing will ever change that.

[whatifitis]

♡ Nine Lives - LH 44 ♡

Summary: Movie night with you and Lewis leads to yet another silly love declaration from the both of you.

Author's Note: This was a request that asked for a fluffy Lewis fic so here is my attempt at some extra fluffy stuff! Hope y'all like it. Feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 964

CW: fluff, this whole thing is basically the nine lives song from webkinz so there's no originality i'm sorry 😭, roscoe mention

It was movie night and it was your turn to pick the movie. Well, it’s been your turn to pick the movie. Usually, you and your boyfriend, Lewis, will alternate who gets to pick the movie to make it fair, but the past 5 times, it’s been Lewis’ choice. 

You pointed out the other day that it was meant to be your turn since you hadn’t been able to pick one in ages, to which Lewis argued that the both of you had been mutually agreeing on movies which is a flat out lie. While you do enjoy watching his favorite movie Cool Runnings, it was getting to a point where you got annoyed every time the opening scene played. 

The alternate choice Lewis would give sometimes was Frozen and you could no longer let it go and love was soon gonna be an open door that would be shut in Lewis’ face. 

After some bickering, Lewis finally let you pick the next movie. You had decided that you were going to make him watch your favorite movie of all time, The Three Lives of Thomasina. You had watched the film for the first time as a child, and since then, it always brought you a sense of joy and comfort. 

The two of you prepared for your movie night by doing the usual, setting up a fort built out of couch cushions, pillows and blankets. Tonight you added some fairlights for some extra flair and in celebration of it finally being your turn to pick the movie. You had also gone out earlier in the day and bought a ton of snacks just for tonight, as well as ordering some takeout. 

Once everything was set up, Lewis, Roscoe, and yourself got settled and comfortable in your little fort. You and Lewis immediately dug into the food as you clicked play on the tv. Don’t worry about Roscoe though, you had prepared a special, vegan meal for him so that he was included in the family activity. 

When the opening scene began, Lewis was already, jokingly, sighing exasperatedly, rolling his eyes an excessive amount of times. His arms folded across his chest with a playful smile playing on his lips every time he complains about the movie, side eyeing you from time to time to watch your reactions to his antics. 

Half way through the movie, you and Lewis are cuddled up and the food has been run through. As the movie continues playing, a question pops into your head. 

“If you were a cat, would you live them all with me?” you asked curiously. 

Lewis looks down at you, brows furrowed a bit as he’s unsure where this question came from. Then he smiles, loving all the times you would ask him questions like this. They were just silly questions asked for fun and out of curiosity, but they were also ways he could profess his love to you in new ways. 

“If I had nine lives, I would live them all with you. We would go on more adventures than we do now. I would take you on a trip around the world on a sailing ship. It would be a simple boat built just for two and we’d set sail, just me and you. We'd go round and when we’d reach our destination, we’d start over. You’re the only one for me, darling. Can’t you see?” he tells you. 

“I can. For life two, we could build a home with lots of kids and garden gnomes. We would listen to the pitter-patter of feet running up and down the street.” you tell him, eyes sparkling like the night sky that shines over the two of you through the window.

“For number three, it’d be like now. I’d work a lot because that’s what I was always taught. But we’d buy all the things we’d need for a healthy family. And for life four, you would read because you love to. You’d have your own library that I built just for you. Every now and then, I’d look for your face among them.”, he rubs his thumb on the bare skin of your hip and continues, “For lives five, six, seven and eight, we would try and alleviate the sounds of suffering and the cris of hunger, pain, and forlorn eyes. We’d help people everywhere.”

Your heart is beating warmly in your chest, being reminded of all three love you and Lewis share for not only each other, but for the world that brought you two together. 

With a deep breath, you finish the story, “For life nine, we would be somewhere on a pair of rocking chairs. We’d be happy, slightly grey. If you’re lucky, I’ll bake a cake. And when I wish on a star, I will wish for nine more lives, cause nine lives would not be enough with you.” tears are now streaming down your face. 

Lewis holds the side of your face, wiping away the tears with his hand. He pulls you close to him and presses a kiss to your head, then moving to capture your lips in a soft and comforting kiss. He keeps you there for a moment, reminding you that you are his and he is yours. When you pull apart, Lewis is looking at you with admiration and love in his eyes. 

“You are my one and only love.”

Roscoe lets out a little whine, to which you and Lewis laugh at. 

You sit up and pull Roscoe to sit between Lewis and yourself. 

“How could we forget you, Roscoe? You’re the best thing to ever happen to us. My beautiful, beautiful boy. You would join us for all our lives as well, cause we wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

[rosescarlette]

Right so zhongli hates sea creatures right?! So how about his s/o turned into a sea creature? How would he react?! Hm?👀

---------------------------------------------------

-> Zhongli takes care of the reader.. with a plot twist.

-> Fluff.

Zhongli loves to take care of you. No matter what or how busy it is.. he would always like to take care of you and check up on you.

Until one busy day when he came back from work.. to find his beloved missing. He searched for you everywhere. When he checked your usual spot where you would normally be.. he found something weird.

"..."

He stared at the round glass bowl for a good minute. And then he picked it up and then started staring at it again. He still wasn't sure if it was you.

"[Y/N]..?"

"[Y/N] is it you..?"

He asked while being dumbfounded, flabbergasted, shocked and many more emotions which.. he could not describe all at a time. There was a nice gold fish which minds its own business swimming around.

Zhongli however was shocked. Who did this. Who made his beloved turned into a fish?! Whoever did this was going to pay. He was never the one to like sea creatures. The slimy, weird texture.. and the foul order it has.. he hates them. But now how could he hate his beloved? He would do anything for you.

He would then later clean the fish bowl neatly, buy you a ton of new decorations that would make the bowl environment look nice. When he realized he bought too many that there was no place for in the bowl he would just buy a bigger tank. If even that wasn't enough he would make an entire lake so that just you would be comfortable in your fish form while he finds out how to revert you back.

In the meantime he goes out and buys the decorations and a bigger tank. Then later he would just sit there after assembling everything and worry about how to bring you back to your human form.

He then hears the door bell ring, so he goes to open the door. Surprisingly he finds you outside IN your human form, perfectly fine.

"..."

"What? Is there something on my face?"

"..."

He then stared back at the fish tank and then at you.

"Zhongli? Are you alright?"

"You.. are.. perfectly fine."

"Excuse me?"

"Ahem."

"It's just that.. you know what never mind. As long as you are safe and sound."

"Something tells me something happened here."

"Nothing. Really now please step inside."

You then later went inside to check up on your new pet fish.

"Aw.. you took care of him?? Thanks li. Though.. you didn't have to go too far.."

"Anything for you, my dear."

"Though.. I'd say... Why does it all have my favorite stuff in the tank?"

He took a great pause to tell a lie to you. He desperately did not want you to find out that he totally didn't mistake you for the fish.

"I thought.. that.."

"You thought what?"

"That... It would be nice."

"I does say it looks nice li. Thanks again"

You gave him a peck and went back to open the bag which you had bought along. And then there's another pet fish.

"See? I bought a friend for him just in case he gets lonely."

"Very well. As long as you don't disappear and turn into a fish that's fine with me."

He mumbled that last part to himself.

"As long as I what?"

"Ahem. As long as you're happy and alright with it."

---------------------------------------------------

Note: AM BACK!!! ACADEMICS NEARLY MADE ME QUESTION MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE BUT ITS OK!!!

[samandcolbyownme]

So since you’re doing Outer Banks stories (I think) if it’s alright with you can you make a JJ Maybank x Fem Reader story?

My Shirt | JJ Maybank

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sneaking around, smoking weed, flirting, kissing, teasing, biting, scratching, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of skinny dipping, general filth

“Thanks again, JB.” You say as you pull up to the Chateau, “Sorry it so sudden, but you know how it goes.” John B hums on the other end of the line, “Just as long as you’re safe, okay. Stay as long as you need.”

You park and sit back with a sigh, “Thank you. I just got here now, so I just wanted to let you know.” You put your phone on speaker, setting it down so you can unbuckle.

“You should just move here, y/n. You know your mom can’t force you to do anything.”

You get out, taking your phone with you, “I’ve thought about it. I just- I don’t know. We can figure it out when you get back. You have a trip to enjoy. Tell Sarah I said hi.”

You hear him tell Sarah and she takes the phone, yelling a quick, “Hiiii, y/n!” John B takes the phone back and laughs, “anyway. I told JJ to stay away, but you know how he is.”

You laugh, smirking at the thought of JJ coming over when it’s just you.

“Just tell him to go away or I’ll kick his ass.” John B pulls you from your thoughts and you laugh, “I’ll do what I can, JB.”

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but JJ always keeps a joint in the drawer to the right of the sink.” John b says and you smirk, “I always knew you were my favorite cousin.”

“It’s cause I am.” John B laughs, “Alright, plane is ready to go. Call me if you need anything.” You say your goodbyes and you make your way into the house. You look around, shaking your head at the man made mess.

“Boys will be boys.” You roll your eyes with a laugh and you walk into the spare room. You toss your bag down on the bed and go over to the basket that has all the stuff you forgot each time you were there.

You pull out a grey shirt, tilting your head as you try to remember if it’s yours or not. You shrug, tossing it on the bed before you take off your sweatshirt.

This time, you didn’t really have time to grab anything you really needed, you took off with the literal clothes on your back and few others you could grab during your fit of rage, all while you argued with your mother, also John B’s aunt.

John B knows how she is, but he also understands why you keep going back, so he’s there whenever you need because you grew up together. Even though you’re just cousins, it really seems like you were brother and sister.

You kick off your jeans and pull the shirt down over your body, the hem just barely covering your ass fully.

You grabbed your clothes and the duffle and make your way to throw everything in the washer. You look around, shaking your head as you make a mental note to buy more laundry detergent tomorrow.

After spending time cleaning up and throwing more stuff in, you start the wash, biting down on your lip as you bend down to take off your underwear. You toss them in with the rest of your laundry before closing the lid and making hour way to work on the kitchen.

As much as you respected John B and his wishes to not mack on his friends, you were hoping JJ decides to break the rules and show up.

As you’re working on clearing up the counter, you freeze as you hear a knock on the door, “Yo, Yo.”

You bite your lip, smirking as you continue to scrub the bowl in your hand.

“Yo.” JJ says as he slowly rounds the corner, “Oh that’s right, John B’s with Sarah, in another country.”

You turn around and his eyes move down your body, “Yeah and you’re not supposed to be here.” You smirk, turning back around.

“Wait, is that my shirt?”

You look down, and as soon as he says that, the image of JJ in this shirt pops into your head and you feel heat rise in your cheeks.

You dry off the bowl, reaching up to open the cupboard. As you rise to your tippy toes, the grey shirt slides up, revealing your bare ass to him.

He groans lowly, trying to cover it up with clearing his throat, “And only my shirt?” He blows out air, a quiet fuck escaping his lips.

“Sorry, Jayj. JB must have just thrown it into my basket by accidental.” You say over your shoulder and he shakes his head, licking his lips, “I didn’t say it was a problem, sweetheart.”

You smirk, rinsing your hands off, “That’s a shame..” you turn around, crossing your leg in front of the other as you grip the counter, “Because I was going to tell you that you needed to take it off of me yourself if it was.”

He tilts his head and lets out a sigh, “Now that you say something, get that fucking thing off right now.” He walks over to you, his hips pin yours against the counter behind you.

You look up at him, giggling slightly as he pulls the grey fabric up over your body, revealing what he’s always pictured while his hand strangled his own cock.

“Fuck, y/n.” He slides his hands up and down your arms before he moves them to cup your cheeks, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smirk, licking your lips before you look down at his shirt, “I think you’re a little behind, Maybank.”

He chuckles, looking down, “Yeah, I guess so. Let me fix that.” He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it down, “C’mere.”

He pulls you into him, spinning you around to walk you back to the couch as his lips crash onto yours.

You moan against his lips, pulling yourself closer to him, “Jayj.” You whimper out, “Please, touch me. Do something.”

“Mm.” He kisses down your neck, “Needy for papa J, I see.”

You gasp as you feel his hand slip in between your legs, sliding up and down between your wet folds, “All I need to know.”

JJ smirks and crashes his lips into yours as two of his fingers thrust inside of you.

Your back arches off the couch and your nails sink into his skin as he swallows your moans, “J-“ you whimper out, “J.”

“Does that feel good? Hmm?” He asks, peppering kisses all over your face as his fingers curl upward, “Gotta tell me what you like, sweetheart.”

“T-that.” You gasp, walls clenching around his fingers, “Feels so good, Jayj.”

His lips move to yours as he repeats the action, which has you squirming under his touch, begging for him to stop even though you really don’t mean it - and JJ keeps going, working you towards your first orgasm, “Are you close? Your pussy is squeezing my fingers for dear life.”

You bite down on your lip, nodding your head, “Oh, fuck, y-yeah.”

His lips find yours and you moan into his mouth. He swallows them with ease, glancing down to watch your cunt swallow his fingers, “Fuck, you’re so worth the lecture.”

He crashes his lips into yours and you become a whimpering mess under him as you cum. Your body tenses under his and he groans against your lips, “That’s it. There we go.”

You moan louder as JJ’s thumb rubs lazy circles on your clit, sliding your hands up to his hair. You whimper, pulling him back down to kiss you again, “Please, fuck me.”

“Never thought I’d hear those words in my life.” He pushes his hips between your thighs and his cock slips into you, making you both gasp out in shock that things finally happening.

“Holy mother of fuck.” He groans as he kisses you roughly, his cock pushing into you fully. You cry out with pleasure as his thrusts pick up immediately.

Fast and hard.

Your eyes roll back as his hand comes up to lay on the side of your neck, “You sound so pretty.” He kisses back your jaw, “You look so pretty.”

He moans lowly, “Fuckin’ pussy is taking me so goddamn well.”

How slides his hand over, gripping your throat tight - and your phone rings.

You try to turn your head and JJ moves your head back, “Don’t worry about that right now.” His lips fall to yours, distracting you until it rings again.

He looks over and grabs it, handing it to you, “Answer it. It’s John B.”

Your eyes go wide and you sit up, but JJ pushes you back down, “No. I’m going to eat you out while you talk to him.”

You answer the call as JJ moves down your body, “Hello?”

“Hey, we landed, just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.” John B says on the other end, “You didn’t clean up did you?”

You take a deep breath, “I just.. woke up from a nap.” You bite down on your lip as JJ’s tongue works it way into your pussy, “And yeah.. I did clean up.”

You try your hardest not to let any whimpers or moans slip because JJ was phenomenal at this. His tongue swipes around your cunt as his fingers rub harsh circles on your clit.

“You didn’t have to do that.” John B laughs, “But I appreciate it. I ne-“

“More laundry stuff. Noted.” You force a laugh to cover up the moan that’s desperately trying to escape, “I’ll go tomorrow.”

You bring your hand up, covering your mouth as you close your eyes.

“Did JJ show up? I tried calling him, too but he isn’t answering.”

“Haven’t seen him.” You lift your head, watching as the blonde between your legs absolutely devours you, “Which… is..” you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe out, “Surprising.”

“I’m sure he’ll show up, but you know the drill.”

You roll your hips, biting down on your lip to compose yourself, “With you constantly drilling it into my head, how can I not?”

He laughs, “Alright. Let me know if you hear from Jayj.”

“I will.” You roll your eyes, praying that John B will just hang up, “Have a good trip.”

“Will do. See ya, y/n.”

“Yep, bye.” You pull the phone away, hanging up before you reach down and grab JJ by the hair, “You motherfucker.”

He laughs, reaching down to grab your hips, “I’m only fuckin’ you, baby.” He smirks and flips you over, lifting your hips so he can reinsert his cock into you and you moan out loudly, “J-Jayj, please.”

“So needy.” He lifts a hand, allowing it to slap back down onto the skin of your ass, “I fuckin’ love that.”

He leans down, wrapping your hair around his hand and pulling you to sit up a little before his thrusts fall back into being hard and fast.

You reach up, holding yourself up on the arm of the couch as you cry out, “Yesyesyes, right there, JJ!”

“That’s it, baby.” He throws his head back, groaning out before leaning down to peck the back of your shoulder, “If only JB knew just how much of a little slut you were for me.”

“He would explode..” you laugh slightly but it turns into a moan, “Fuck, J.” You tilt your head back and he rests his forehead against it, “You close again?”

“Uh huh.” You nod slightly, “Need all of you.” You push your hips back to meet his thrusts and JJ groans, “You want it, you gotta earn it.”

He sit down on the couch and pulls you back into his lap. Your legs move to either side of his hips and you sink back down onto his cock.

He leans forward, kissing up the valley between your boobs, “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He leans back, hands sliding down your sides, “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You start to bounce, eager to get him to his point of spilling everything inside of you.

You needed him, maybe it was the forbidden love label that your over protective cousin slapped on JJ, but you could go crazy if you didn’t get it.

“Ridin’ me like a pro. Fuck.” He leans back, eyes trailing down your body to stop and fixate on your body meeting his with each bounce from you, “Jesus, fuck.”

His hands grip your hips and he looks up at you, “Gimme one more, sweetheart. One more, and I’ll give you want you want.”

Desperate for his release, you grip the couch behind his shoulders and continuously slam your hips down, moaning out constantly as you work yourself to your own orgasm.

“Fuck there you go.” JJ bucks his hips up, “just like that, keep it goin, baby. Keep it goin’.”

Your lips meet his, swallowing each others moans as you feel him finish inside you, “Jayj.” You whimper, “Feels so good.”

His pulls you into his body, arms wrapping around you as he kisses your head, “How was that, hmm?” You nod against his neck, “Amazing, Jayj.”

He rubs your back for a few minutes before he giggles to himself. You sit up, tilting your head as you look at him, “What?”

He licks his lips, laying his head back, “You have ever gone skinny dipping?”

You shake your head and he raises his brows, “You want to?” You bite down on your lip and smirk, standing up to wrap a blanket around your body, “I’ll race ya.”

You take off for the door and JJ is instantly behind you, laughing and still naked as can be, “Don’t let me catch you.”

——

Let me know what you thought! Thank you so much for reading! I truly love each and every one of you. See you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[thebearer]

if you lie down, lie next to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: you and carmen are newly weds, moving into your forever home.

inspired by @carmybears fic assembly required which has been SO heavy on my mind lately mixed with lana del rey's "if you lie down, lie next to me" <3

contains: fluff. just fluff newly weds, alludes at smut, some language, but tooth rotting sweetness and fluff.

“Carmen, I’m not even kidding. Where the fuck did all of this stuff come from?” You groan, collapsing another cardboard box with a huff, shoving it into the pile with the others by the door. “Our apartment was, like, one-fifth the size of this one. The living room was like our whole apartment. How do we have this much shit?” 

Carmen snorted lightly, grinning and unpacking the various pots and pans. New pots and pans- wedding gifts.Your wedding came with an influx of appliances and cookware, gadgets for the kitchen that Carmen bubbled with excitement about. And a margarita maker- for you, of course- courtesy of Natalie Berzatto herself. The old apartment, you barely had space for the dishes and pots you had, let alone new ones. 

So Carmen kept them tucked away, until he got the new place for you. He didn’t have a clue at the time he’d be buying you the Brownstone you were in now, nestled in the heart of Old Town. A good neighborhood, close-ish to the restaurant, zoned in a good school district- a forever home, for the two of you. 

“I mean, most of it was wedding gifts.” Carmen shrugged. “The rest are your shoes.” He teased, a playful glint in his eye when he looked over at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Ha-ha,” You said sarcastically, bumping him with your shoulder. “Seriously, though, I’m never doing this again. We’re here for life, Berzatto.” 

“That’s the plan, Berzatto.” Carmen nudged you back lightly, leaning to press a sweet kiss to your blushing cheeks, a loving squeeze to your ass when he passed you that left you squealing. 

“The good news is,” Carmen paused, sliding the pot onto the hanging rack over the island, stepping back to admire it. “The kitchen is unpacked.” 

“The most important room.” You hummed playfully. Carmen nodded in agreement, arms slipping around your waist, pulling you into his chest. 

“Think we should celebrate?” Carmen grinned. “Christen it?” 

“We already christened it.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Twice- no, three times, already.” 

“Yeah but now it’s done.” Carmen countered. “No more boxes in the way.” 

“I think you can only christen something once.” You give him a pointed look, ignoring the way his crotch is rubbing against your hip. You were still sore from the celebratory round of “putting the coffee table together” from earlier. 

“And I’m starving. Should we order in again?” You hum, looking at the fridge. Nothing but a bottle of champagne and leftover takeout Chinese food. Your stomach turned at the thought. 

Carmen caught your grimace, a hand running soothingly down your back. “If you want. I can run to the store, too. Grab some things for dinner. Break in the kitchen now that it’s done.” 

“I think I like that idea better.” You nod, leaning against his chest, feeling his chain through his t-shirt- the same chain you had tucked between your teeth earlier. Your knees wobbled at the thought. “What are you making?” 

“What’re you in the mood for?” Carmen tilted his head back to look at you. “Can make you whatever, baby, just lemme know.” 

“I am down for anything that doesn’t come out of a box.” You giggle, nose snarling at the Chinese food. “Surprise me, Chef.” You grinned smugly, content at how Carmen’s cheeks flushed with heat. 

“You wanna come with me?” Carmen asked, reaching over to swipe his keys off the kitchen counter. 

You rolled your lips in thought. “I need to shower.” You blink at him sweetly. “I feel all sweaty and gross.” 

“Alright. Need anythin’ else, baby?” Carmen is looking for his phone, patting his pockets and turning in a semi-circle to look around him. 

You roll your eyes, plucking the phone off the coffee table in the living room, passing it to him. He was always losing his phone. You’d begged him to get an Apple watch but he swore it got in the way of his cooking, so you took to texting Nat or Richie- who always had their phones- when you needed him. 

“Something to drink? Unless you want champagne because I’m pretty sure that’s all that’s in there.” You giggle, looking at the fridge. 

Carmen smiled, pulling his hat over his tousled locks. “I got it.” He muttered, leaning to press a sweet, soft kiss to your lips, hands splaying over your hips, pulling you closer and closer into him. 

He always managed to make you swoon like that, cheeks rushing with heat, dizzy and light with love. You hoped you’d always feel like this. Even when you were old and wrinkly and wobbly, you hoped Carmen would still kiss you like that- in this very spot, in this very house. 

“Oh, Cass Elliot?” You grinned, spinning with the vinyl in your hands, brows raised playfully at Carmen. “He has taste.” 

Carmen snorted lightly in laughter, dishrag slung over his shoulder, spooning the sauce over the chicken in the pan. The kitchen was warm, smelling heavily of spices and a dash of citrus. You’d set up the vinyl in the corner by the nook, an old school record player passed down from Carmen’s grandmother. His Nonna Berzatto, who he adored. He had told you about how he’d always go over and help her make Sunday sauce. She had that same vinyl in her kitchen, next to a picture of her parents, and a prayer candle of Mary. It was all he managed to get, keep after she passed and his parents sold everything else that they could. He’d even snagged a few records, though the one you held looked new. 

“Yeah. Thought you liked her stuff?” Carmen muttered, eyes cutting to yours gently. 

“I do.” You grinned, slipping the record out of the protective paper. “How’d you know that?” You lifted the arm of the record player, slipping out the old disk and sliding in the new one, careful of the bouquet you’d just placed by it. Carmen had snagged one at the grocery earlier, surprising you with the beautiful bloom when you’d gotten out of the shower. 

“Because, you told me.” Carmen said simply, checking the asparagus inside the stove. Your heart fluttered. “When we were comin’ back from that trip… The, uh, the one we took to Detroit, remember? You played it on the way back.” 

Your chest soared, filling with that warmth that made your body tingle from head to toe. “You remembered that? That was… two years ago?” 

“Of course I remembered that.” Carmen scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you like he couldn’t believe you’d say something so ridiculous. “You said that, uh, that one song was like the love song to you. So I-I started listening to it because… ya know, it reminded me of you and stuff.” Carmen muttered, cheeks heating at the omission. 

You beamed, lifting the long arm of the record player, letting it softly come to life with a scratch of static before the slow melody filled the room. “You’re sweet.” You hum, arms wrapping around his torso, swaying gently to the familiar medley. “Never would’ve guessed you woulda been this sweet.” 

“Yeah? I’m given’ off asshole vibes?” Carmen laughed, hips turning slightly to face you. 

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “Gave off recluse vibes.” 

“Recluse?” Carmen turned to you. 

“Yeah, like… quiet, shy boy vibes.” You giggle. “You barely spoke to me when I started… and you hired me!” 

“I thought you were pretty.” Carmen shrugged boyishly. “And I thought if I talked to you, I’d throw up or embarrass myself. Also thought there was no way you’d be single. Too pretty and funny and… I dunno, thought you’d never go out with me.” 

“Little did you know.” You grinned wickedly. “I had been stalking you in secret.” Carmen laughed at you. “I thought you were pretty, too.” 

Carmen blushed at your omission, lips twitching in a smile. You swayed lightly, cheek pressed to his chest, letting the soft melody lull you. You remembered the car ride back from Detroit. Carmen was going to some chef expo there, trying to network and get Sydney the star she deserved. You’d agreed to go along. Things were far enough along it was stable, but still new and exciting. Your first real trip as a couple. You’d stayed in a hotel, gone to Carmen’s colleague’s fancy restaurant, went sightseeing and shopping hand-in-hand. You couldn’t help feeling so romantic, shuffling songs from the playlist you listened to when you were getting ready for a date. Old school tracks, filled with symphonies and ballads of love. 

“I think this is almost done. D’you want to grab the glasses and I’ll-” 

“-Let it sit for a minute.” You sigh contently, turning down the heat on the stove top. 

“What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffs in laughter, turning while you pull at him, your hand lacing through his own, tugging him to the open space on the other side of the kitchen island. 

You just smile at him, pulling him close to you. Your hand in his, the other wrapped around and settled on his spine. His free hand followed, sliding down your back. You leaned towards him, chin tilted towards his face, his curls tickling your forehead. You swayed slowly, nothing elaborate or coordinated, just a soft shuffle type sway, Carmen pulled close to you. 

“‘M not good at this.” Carmen’s breath hitched, hand squeezing yours, his thumb gliding over your wedding rings. 

“Yeah, you are.” You hum, nose brushing his. “Best dancer I’ve ever seen.” You mutter, your lips slotting over his sweetly. Carmen’s hand left yours, cupping your jaw and pulling you closer, his lips soft against your own. Your head found his shoulder, dipping into his collarbone, arms wrapped around his torso while he rocked you gently. The sound of Cass Elliot’s voice humming out of the record player Baby, I’m Yours fading into Words of Love. The fan from the stove still buzzing with life, wafting out the steam from the pans, rhythmically merging with the sounds from the street. A relatively quiet neighborhood, filled with quiet cars and the occasional children’s screech from their strollers that pushed by. It was all so calming, the sound of your new home. Sounds you hoped would become familiar overtime and still shared with Carmen.

[mysteryshoptls]

2024-2025 Player Birthday Login Message Lines

These are all the messages that you get from the boys when you log in on the birthday that you set in-game from 18 Mar 2024 to 17 Mar 2025! For those that want to hear them, you can find them in the Archive, under the tab その他　→　監督生バースデー④. (This will not be in your game archives until the birthday you set passes.)

You can find the 2021-2022 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2022-2023 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2023-2024 Birthday Login Message Lines here!

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. Thanks for always looking out for those two dorm students of mine. Actually, we're planning on hosting a reception this weekend at our dorm. I would like to invite you, as part of your birthday celebration. Heh. My apologies. Looks like that has caused you a little anxiety. No worries, I'll be beside you teaching you the proper manners the whole time.

Ace

Yo, [Yuu]. Happy Birthday― Mmkay, so let's get started on the birthday party. I'm just gonna pop on over to this one restaurant in town and nab some tasty-lookin' stuff! Just chill and wait here at Ramshackle... Hey, c'mon, I ain't tryin' to pull anything over on ya. Sometimes I just want to have a normal celebration too, y'know!

Deuce

[Yuu], Happy Birthday! Let me take you to go buy a prese... Eh? You're saying that I've already given you a present because I fixed the broken lights in Ramshackle the other day...? No way, you don't gotta hold back like that! I want to go all out for my pal's special day. That's what makes me happy.

Cater

[Yuu]-chan, Happy Birthday―☆ Did ya post on Magicam that it's your birthday? Oh, not yet? Then, let Cay-kun here with all his power and wisdom write a post for you! We'll attach a cool photo and some slammin' hashtags... Whaddya think? A perfect gift from me, or what?

Trey

Happy Birthday. So, about your present... I do have one. It's just... I was asking around for what to gift you and in the end, I couldn't really figure out what I should get... So in the end, after being at a loss, I ended up getting you this shirt. I look at it now and wonder what possessed me to pick this pattern... Yeah, I know, it's just laughable.

SAVANACLAW

Leona

Yeah, yeah. Your birthday's come 'round again, hooray. ...What're you doing, setting up a chessboard on the floor like that? You practiced just to win a game against me? Oho, so you're challenging me, then. Look at the pluck on this herbivore. So, what're you willing to bet, then? No way you're gettin' away with just a simple game after throwin' down the gauntlet at me like this.

Jack

So, it's your birthday today. Have you set up any new goals yet? What, you're going to surpass me in our classes? Heh, that's a hilarious joke. You really think you can beat me? But I'll take you on. If you get a better score on our next test, I'll get you some kind of present.

Ruggie

Happy Birthday―! 'N that means, I got you somethin' that's fittin' comin' from an upperclassman like me. Ta-da! A homemade fishing rod～ ...Ah, you totally just thought it's a cheap gift, didn'tcha! But this totally works! I know what it's like to go hungry too, y'know～ You're probably always goin' through things, so if you're ever in a pinch, make sure you use this!

OCTAVINELLE

Azul

A very Happy Birthday to you. Have you thought of a gift you'd like to get for yourself? Please, allow me to procure it for you... ...Oho, you have a keen eye to request something of that caliber. It may be considerably difficult to just anyone to acquire. HOW-EV-ER! If I were to handle it, that is a different situation altogether. I shall definitely make sure to retrieve it for you. Please wait expectantly.

Jade

Happy tidings for your birthday. I do hope this year will be another fruitful year for you. By the way, [Yuu]-san. Have you eaten yet? Oh, not yet, how wonderful. As a matter of fact, I thought I would treat you to something in my own little way. I only offer this with the best of intentions, of course. Fufu.

Floyd

Oh hey, Shrimpy-chan. It's your birthday today, huh. Mmkay, then I'll give you some snacks. I got these strange tastin' gummies, these wicked hard cookies, and some squishy jerky. Awesome, right? I got a ton, but all of them expire today, so. These are my presents to you, so you better eat them all without wastin' any, 'kay?

SCARABIA

Kalim

[Yuu], Happy Birthday! Here's your present, from me to you. Ahaha, did that surprise you? I tried making a pop up birthday card just for you. I also tried making a ton of paper flowers that we use during celebrations back in the Scalding Sands. Don'tcha think they came out real pretty?

Jamil

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. It isn't much, but here's your present. Ramshackle is a fairly old building. I'm sure there are bugs that will find their way in and try to settle down here. However, if you use this, you can rid yourself of all of them in an instant. I can vouch for its effectiveness. Use it as soon as you can.

POMEFIORE

Vil

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. ...You wish for me to come to your party here, at Ramshackle? And to top it all off, you've prepared a healthy menu just for me... Heh, how considerate of you. Very well. I suppose I can make an appearance out of respect for your enthusiasm. I do hope you're honored that I'll be there to celebrate with you.

Epel

Happy Birthday! I put in a lot of thought picking out a present for you. Here ya go, fingerless gloves! Nice design, right? Makes using your phone a lot easier, too. It'll make you look super cool, and the more you use it, the more comfy it'll feel. I hope you use it tons!

Rook

I've been waiting, Trickster. Waiting, that is, to celebrate your birthday with you. A spectacular day requires a spectacular memory. That is why I've come up with a wonderful plan of my own. First, we watch two back-to-back theater performances, then attend a poetry reading, and finally, watch a movie in the evening. There will be no time to rest. Come, we must quickly fly towards the theater!

IGNIHYDE

Idia

Kk, time to pretend we all get along and celebrate a birthday again... Eep!? D-Did you hear that just now...? Uh, so... Happy B-day, I guess... Soz, I don't have a present for you. Didn't even know it was your birthday... What, you're seriously just happy hearing me wish you a happy b-day? [siiigh] Nah, I'll order something small online and have it shipped to Ramshackle sometime later.

Ortho

Happy Birthday! Here's your present. Go ahead and open it! Hehe, you see what I did? I used a laser to engrave a birthday message on a glass tumbler for you. It was a little difficult fine tuning the power adjustment for the more detailed parts, but it came out pretty good, don't you think? I really hope you like it!

DIASOMNIA

Malleus

Child of Man, I see today is your birthday. ...Hm? What's the matter? You look a tad glum. Ah, I see, you are struggling to carry all your presents. Well, allow me to deliver them to Ramshackle with magic in your stead. No need to protest, this is an effortless task for someone like me. You should enjoy your special day to the utmost.

Silver

Happy Birthday. You're curious about this braided cord? It is your present. Lilia-senpai explained it to me thusly... If a string wrapped around your wrist or ankle snaps off on its own, then your wish will be granted. I strung this cord together in hopes that you may have your wishes come true. It may be a tad ill-shaped, but if it pleases you, it is yours.

Sebek

As I recall, today is your birthday... Hm? You want me to come to your birthday party? What poor semblance of a joke. I don't have the spare time to waltz into some human gathering like... WHAT!? MY LIEGE HIMSELF WILL ALSO BE THERE!? THEN SAY THAT FIRST! For goodness' sake, humans like you are just... so thoroughly thoughtless. Hurry and provide me the location and commencement time!

Lilia

Ooh, nice. So today's your birthday. Just look at how big you're getting. ...Khee hee hee. Don't look so downtrodden. It's just me pretending to be a doting gramps. The other guys in my dorm don't ever let me joke with them like that. And so, I have a present for you. Here, a CD of my performances, specially made! Take this and enjoy my raging screamo music with your whole heart and body.

OTHERS

Crowley and Rollo do not have new lines. Theirs are repeated from last year's.

Grim

Today's your birthday, huh. Happy Birthday to you! ...Huh? Do I got a gift for ya? What're ya even saying? Shouldn't ya be happy enough that you're my number one favorite henchie? Fiiine. Guess I can use my paws to pad you a massage sometime. Wouldn't want to hafta sit in a hard and uncomfy lap, after all!

Crowley

Ta-daaa! What do you suppose this could be? That’s correct, it’s an exchange coupon for use at the Mystery Shop! You have been a consistent helping hand, so… This is a special gift for you. Happy Birthday. Incidentally, that is only worth 500 madol (5 Thaumarks). It cannot be exchanged for something pricier than that. Please don’t hold it against me.

Crewel

It seemed rather rowdy in here, but now I see it was just you, pup. Are you excited simply because its your birthday? I see, well, in that case, I have a special present just for you. As for what it is... It is a special alchemy homework assignment. You should be happy; you'll be able to improve your skills even further with this, don't you think? Haha, Happy Birthday.

Rollo

Whatever is the matter, [Yuu]-kun? There is a strange glimmer in your eyes… ...Ah, I see. Today is your birthday. A present? Hmph. I hardly think that it should be something you request of others… But no matter. Indeed, birthdays should be treasured. However, what would be an acceptable gift…? I am afraid I’m rather unaccustomed to this. I would hope I do not disappoint you with a poor gift choice.

Fellow

Oh, my, hello there, my learned scholar! I've been searching, and finally, I've found you! I was fervently hoping to wish you well for your birthday. Here, your present. ...As fellows lacking in magical abilities, we should get along together, don'tcha think? Happy Birthday! Fwahaha!

Requested by Anonymous.

[kikidoesfanfic]

Woof, I mean, hey

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild demogorgon daily prompt 'puppy chow' (happy birthday @bobamews)

>On ao3<

"I'd keep an eye on that if I were you," Wayne says, gesturing at the bag of dog food Steve's carrying.

There's a stray that's taken up hiding under the Munson trailer, all round with a litter and such a sweetheart, Steve has been trying to befriend her enough to coax her inside for a bath for a few days now.

"Uncle Wayne, no!" Eddie whines, and now Steve's intrigued, Wayne's looking at Eddie with a positively shit eating grin, the two having a staredown neither seems willing to break.

"What am I keeping an eye out for exactly?" Steve asks.

"Well, back when Eddie first came to live with me,"

"Wayne please."

"There was this skittish little pup hangin' round the park, skinny as anythin' and nobody seemed to own it."

"I'll do the dishes for a month," Eddie says, and Wayne pauses, probably tempted because he hates doing the dishes, and with Steve cooking most nights both Munson men trade off on the chore. He must decide it's worth it though, because he continues.

"So, Eddie begged and begged, big sad cow eyes that I couldn't say no to." Wayne looks to Steve now, "of course I had to buy a little bag of the puppy chow, the kibble stuff."

Eddie, knowing Wayne is unmovable, dramatically flops face down onto the couch.

"But see, the scrawny thing wouldn't get close to eat the food when we were out there, even birds scared the little guy away. So Eddie-" Wayne says, starting to chuckle. "So Eddie thought-" he cuts himself off again with another laugh, Eddie groaning in protest, slightly muffled by the sofa cushion.

"Eddie thought if the pup saw him eatin' the food, he'd know it was safe, that he was safe."

"Aww Eddie, that's so cute!" Steve coos, dropping the bag beside the door to go over and kneel next to the couch.

"Yep, that's me, so cute." Eddie says quickly, head popping up to glare at his uncle. "And that's where the story ends, right Uncle Wayne."

"Sure," he acquiesces, and Eddie looks momentarily relieved until Wayne tacks on, "if you ignore the part where he decided they tasted pretty good as a snack and hid half the bag in his room for later."

"BETRAYAL," Eddie shouts, jumping up on the couch to point an accusatory finger at Wayne, "by my own flesh and blood!"

Steve, meanwhile, is laughing so hard he's bent double, he'd stood to make sure Eddie wouldn't fall off the couch when he yelled, but when Wayne's words processed... well.

"You kept eating it?" Steve wheezes, and Eddie turns to slap at his shoulder.

"No, go back, I'm cute remember! Wayne, look what you did!"

"I can get set some aside from the bag if you like, but I'm not kissing you if you have dog food breath." Steve says, and Wayne chuckles again.

"I changed my mind, pretty much immediately!"

"Yeah, but only 'cause-"

"NO. NOPE. TIME TO GO." Eddie yells, cutting Wayne off, jumping hastily from the couch and shoving at Steve to get him towards their room. "La la la la we can't hear you!"

"Only 'cause he felt guilty for stealing the dogs food" Wayne yells behind them, just as Eddie's about to slam the door.

"No," Eddie despairs, drawing out the word, thumping his head on the door frame a time or two before Steve can stop him. "You're the worst!" He turns and pouts, eyes big and imploring as he looks at Steve, "you can't tell anyone about this, the kids will never let me hear the end of it."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me Eds," he says with a fond smile. "Though, I don't think it's me you have to worry about, won't Wayne be home during Hellfire this week?" Eddie's face turns panicked, hurrying back down the hallway, leaving a giggling Steve behind.

"Hey Uncle Wayne, I ever tell you you're the best Uncle a guy could have?"

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Dabi accidentally made reader blind

*sighs* it's time for another fic idea:

Imagine Dabi terrorising the city and doing evil shenanigans, the usual stuff, and while he's welding his fire quirk, you- an innocent civilian gets hurt in the process. Now look, a lot of other civilians got hurt too, but what made you stand out was the fact that you locked eyes with him, saw his face right before your retinas were burned by the blast of fire aimed at a hero past you.

You were taken to the hospital, where you got the news that you'd be blind for the rest of your life now and Dabi had begun stalking you from the moment you woke up from surgery, only because he thought you'd spill his identity to the police or whatever. But you didn't, probably because you forgot his face, but "probably" isn't good enough for him. He needs to be sure you won't rat him out to the authorities, so he continues to stalk you and eventually develops yandere tendencies for you.

Of course, as he falls in love, he also begins to feel guilty as he sees you struggling with your daily chores because of your new disability. I mean, you worked at a school, volunteered at orphanages and nursing homes, fed strays, the perfect daughter, friend, employee.

You are the nicest human ever and Dabi made you blind😭

He sees that you can't continue working at the school, and he sees its harder to volunteer when you haven't learned how to deal with life without the ability to see. And his chest hurts when he sees you break down at nights, in your apartment alone because you don't know how you'll be able to take care of your aging parents as their only child, when you can't even walk in traffic without help.

That's when Dabi decides to step in. Sure, you may have seen his face, but you haven't heard his voice, right?

He makes the first meeting seem like a chance encounter, bumping into you and catching you before you fell. Faking concern when you apologise for being blind, he takes you to a nearby cafe and offers to buy you a coffee for the one he made you spill.

And eventually, he asks you out and now you're two dating. You think he's the sweetest guy, always helping you but never patronising. And sure, deep down Dabi's heart jumps whenever he catches you in a danger, but he knows he shouldn't be coddling you. How else will you navigate?

Then again, the deeper Dabi falls in love with you and the more yandere he becomes, the more he wants you to become dependent on him for everything. But he has to be smart; he doesn't want to drive you away just because he wants to wrap you up in bubble wrap.

He helps you use you walking stick, gets you Braille, and with your permission, he babyproofs the house a bit (mainly because he saw the bruises on your leg from the sharp corners you bumped into).

And since you two are not living together just yet, he worries what would happen to you if he's not there. So he stays a while longer, hiding in the background just until you fall asleep, making sure you have your mobile (with his number on speed dial) near you.

But Dabi can't always be there to watch you. He's still pursuing his successful career as a villain, so without your knowledge, he installs cameras in your house, purely out of concern and not because he's a creep. Yes, even the ones in your bathroom are just in case you slipped and hit your head.

After some time, you two do end up moving in together. He of course modifies his house so that its more safe for you, like rounding off sharp edges, installing devices that let you know when youre near stairs, etc. And Dabi just absolutely adores spending time with you. Be it cooking, he's right there with you as you tell him all the steps to your favourite recipes and taste test food (he blows on your hot food), dance slowly in the kitchen while the pizza bakes in the oven, straddle you and tickle you until youre near tears, or cuddling on the couch as you enjoy each others silence. You're so nice, so kind to him. He won't ever say it outloud but you being blind is a huge positive for him because he doesn't get insecure with the way he looks. Plus, he can smile as much as he wants without feeling like its tarnishing his "villain image" (he has absolutely melted when you said you adored the way he laughed. Stfu bitch, hes never laughing again😭💖🫶) And you're great at matching his vibe too. He can see the way he's rubbed off on you, how you joke about your disability, the two of you surprising people with your dark sense of humor.

He can be intimate with you, because you feel perfect against his charred skin. When you touched his staples and his burned skin, his breath hitching when you pulled your hand away, your brows frowning. Did you find him ugly now that you knew he didnt have smooth, pristine skin?

When you didn't say anything for a few seconds, he asked if you'd like to know what happened to him.

You shrugged. "Only if you want to tell me. I just want to know if it hurts when I touch your skin." Hes so glad you can't see because my man had tears falling down his face. Why are you so concerned for his well being??? Why are you so sweet? Why Why Why Why-

Not to mention the way your parents absolutely ADORE him???? Like, the first time he met them, they immediately welcomed him into their homes and into their hearts. Dabi is like so overwhelmed because he's never felt so accepted and loved. Your parents never once looked at him differently because of his scars, and Dabi knows he looks like a criminal for sure, but your parents???? They don't care. Hell, they've already begun telling him all your embarrassing childhood stories and are inviting him to family gatherings and have already decided what clothes he's gonna wear for the family Christmas picture. And Dabi has realised that both you and your parents are way too naive and trusting and so so so so precious, he's adopting all of yall😭😭😭 (like fr, your parents just saved themselves from being killed and/or thrown into a nursing home).

Anyways, years pass by, Dabi had left the crime life the day you got hurt in his house and he wasnt around to help you. Now he works from his home office and you work at the school for visually impaired. Your relationship has reached it peak and Dabi pops the marriage question and you say yes. But before you guys can get married, someone (maybe an ex, or a cousin or friend) reveals to you who he really is and how he's the reason you're blind, and Dabi is eavesdropping because he needs the prefect opportunity to both kill the guy who spilled his secret and catch you before you run off.

"I know."

"You know?"

"I know. Always have. And I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up ever again. Also, you're not invited to the wedding." You said before having the guy leave the room.

"You can come out now, Dabi." You called him inside.

"How did you know I was here?" He asked standing in front of you.

"I'm smart like that." You chuckled.

"Y/n- you knew?" He asked quietly, wanting to confirm what he'd just heard. You nodded. "How? Why didn't you say anything?"

You sighed. "You're not the only one keeping secrets, Dabi." You sat down, patting the seat next to you for him. "I have a quirk like you do. I have a heightened sense of smell. So, I pretty much recognised you from the moment you bumped into me."

"Huh? How could you recognise me? We never met before that." You shook your head. "We didn't meet before, but I noticed you the day of my accident." Dabi's mind couldn't stop at how you chose to refer his attack as an "accident", which is exactly what it was. You were never his target. Honestly, you're the best human being, an actual angel-

"I only noticed you because you smelled like charred barbecue."

.

.

.

"WHAT?!"

"Hey, no yelling!" You scolded. "That day, I was walking home when I was suddenly hit with this intense smell of grilled barbecue and I was superrrr hungry that day, so I was like I gotta get me some of that and then I looked up and I saw you."

Dabi listened to your explanation, and he honestly wouldn't have believed you if he hadn't spent so much time with you to know how your brain works. "If you knew who I was, then you knew you lost your eyes because of me. So, why did you..." He couldn't complete his question, afraid of you admitting to leading him on just so that you could take revenge and hurt him by pretending to be in love.

You cupped cheek. "It wasn't your fault. You weren't aiming for me. Besides, you and I both know that I would've been dead that same day if you wanted me to."

"Still... I am a bad person-"

"No, Dabi. You're not." You cut him off, not wanting him to taint himsslf with such foul thoughts. "No one is born good or bad. People just do good things or bad things, as circumstances force them to. The world isn't so black and white, Dabi. Everyone's got a grey area."

A tear fell down his cheek, and Dabi pulled you in for a deep kiss. "God- You're just- perfect." He whispered against your lips. You smiled and pecked him once more before settling on the couch, your head on chest.

"So... I smell like charred barbecue?" Dabi asked, playing with your hair. You hummed. "And it doesn't bother you?"

"Nope!"

"Why not?"

"I love charred barbecue. They're the best pieces!"

Ah, if you keep saying things like that, Dabi will need to buy you bigger diamonds.

Fuck it, he thought pulling out his phone.

He's already ordering one online.

Now imagine someone hurts Dabi's baby, and she dies. That'd suck, huh?