#one day I’ll learn to shade clothes

[punkratts]

I haven’t posted breaking bad in so long but this is literally so Jesse pinkman coded (and my mom coded but that’s besides the point anyways🙏)

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: idol!reader getting injured (arm), accident mention, smut, fingering, oral (f. &m. rec), ovulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, handjob, attentive sex? (due to reader's injury), dirty talk.

staff!seungcheol who’s got that severe look, eyes attached to every inch of you like he’s memorizing it. he’s standing close, flashlight in hand, checking every damn speck of glitter on your face like he’s planning on personally suing each one that doesn’t sparkle just right. like you're some kind of precious artifact he needs to make sure is flawless. there’s this faint crease between his brows as he leans in, like he’s got a checklist of your entire existence in his mind, murmuring “lemme see, hold still,” like you’re the one shifting around with his hands practically cupping your face. the makeup artist’s just nervously holding her breath in the background.

doesn’t even flinch when he sees the tiny smudge, just calmly points it out while you try not to roll your eyes. “needs fixing,” he says, stepping back only when he’s satisfied, waving the makeup artist over with a quick hand gesture.

“alright, open up,” then there’s staff!seungcheol who’s already one step ahead, holding up that tiny spray bottle of propolis like it’s the holy grail of vocal cords. he gives you a knowing look as you open your mouth for him to spray it down your throat. “don’t choke on it this time,” he says, like you didn’t just cough last night but committed a fucking crime. the spray hits your throat, sharp and herbal, and you pull a disgusted face.

“that’s awful, seungcheol,” you croak, trying to rub it off your tongue.

“and it works,” he fires back, deadpan, already watching you like you’re gonna start talking back too loud. but there’s this smirk tugging at the edge of his lips, like he’s clocking the way you’re fussing.

staff!seungcheol who’s already got a scrunchie on his wrist just for you, flicking it like a badge of honor when the fashion team rushes in, hands full of fabric and pins. “back up,” he tells them, waving them off like some sort of bodyguard-turned-stylist. he steps in, gathering your hair up with this weirdly gentle touch, pulling it back like he’s done this a million times. and he has. you’re used to the low murmur of his voice, saying stuff like “look down,” or “tilt your head,” pulling your hair back as you rip off one outfit, practically wrestling yourself into another.

and yeah, he's seen it all, seen you stripped down to a bunch of mismatched pieces of clothes, practically naked with pins and sequins scattered around. he’s the only one who gets to stay in the room when it’s time to swap outfits, hands moving steady over zippers and hooks without batting an eye. he’s too professional for that.

but sometimes you’ll catch the way his eyes flash, quick as anything, over your bare shoulder, the curve of your waist, or the bend of yourback. lingering just a second too long before he’s tugging fabric back over you. “hold your arms up,” he says, voice so steady it’s almost annoying, but there’s this barely-there flush on his face, one he probably thinks you don’t notice. only once you're decent does he call in the fashion team again, his hand lingering on your shoulder just a second longer, like some silent encouragement.

“think i’ll survive tonight, boss?” you shoot over your shoulder as he tightens up a corset, his fingers brushing your back.

“if you can keep that mouth of yours shut for two minutes, maybe,” he mutters, yanking the laces just a little too tight.

staff!seungcheol who seems to have every little detail about you learned by heart, right down to the shade of foundation that works best under stage lights and the exact temperature of water you like before singing. he’s like a walking encyclopedia on “you,” this intense manager who somehow knows you better than you know yourself some days. it’s kinda crazy when you think about it—how much attention he puts into the smallest things, like checking your posture right before you step onto the stage, brushing an imaginary dust speck off your shoulder, or even noticing when you’re tired just from a tiny slump in your stance. there’s this wild, almost comforting feeling in knowing someone’s watching that close, picking up on what you need before you even have to say it.

staff!seungcheol who doesn’t just care about the professional side of things but pays attention to you as a whole person. you’ll be pacing before a show, a mess of nerves, and he’ll pull you aside, hands firm on your shoulders, telling you to breathe, to ground yourself. “hey, it’s just one show out of many,” he’ll say, like he’s reminding you that this isn’t the end of the world. sometimes, he’ll even pull out a joke, something random to get you out of your head, his voice warm, more calming than he probably even realizes.

staff!seungcheol who’s a human wall when it comes to fans or any kind of chaos. he’s got this built-in radar for spotting trouble in a crowd, and the way he just moves through people, ushering you along like he’s a bodyguard instead of just your manager—it’s unreal. you know the crew’s got security, but it’s always him who stands closest, always him who angles himself slightly in front of you, making sure nothing gets in the way. he’s not overbearing, either; it’s this subtle, constant thing, like he’s built to be in tune with you and the space around you.

and it’s not just the big stuff. like, he’s a fiend about the little things, too. if he sees you adjusting your outfit or tugging at your sleeves, he’s immediately there, straightening the hem or re-pinning a loose detail. he’s the kind of guy who’ll silently hand you a tissue if he sees a tiny smudge of lipstick on your teeth, or he’ll have that emergency stain remover in his pocket just in case you spill something on your outfit last-minute.

staff!seungcheol who somehow makes you feel both overprotected and ridiculously independent. he’s right there if you mess up, catching you before you can fall—literally and metaphorically. he’ll laugh about it after the fact, maybe make some quip about how you owe him for always “saving your ass,” but in the moment, he’s solid as hell, totally serious. it’s like he lives for making sure everything in your world runs smoothly, yet he’s always subtly pushing you to handle things yourself, too.

then, there’s the crazy amount of trust he has in you, even though he’s like the over-prepared captain of the team. like, he’ll go through the checklist with everyone—makeup, wardrobe, lighting, sound—and he’s triple-checked it all, down to the damn microphone battery. but when it comes time for you to perform, he just gives you this look that says he knows you’re gonna kill it, and in that weir silence, it’s like he’s handing everything over, telling you without words, “i’ve got the logistics; you just be you.”

staff!seungcheol who, when you’re touring his hometown, suddenly seems way more focused on making sure you’re comfy than anything else—an entire list prepared, of all the places he wants to show you. but first, there’s the “family dinner” situation. he’s practically droning with nerves as he introduces you to his family, calling you his boss, and you’re just gritting your teeth, whispering to him with a grin, “seungcheol, quit it—i told you, just my name.” he just smirks, playing it off, even if it’s clear he’s a little embarrassed, especially when his mom starts calling him out on every little thing he used to do as a kid.

staff!seungcheol who, thanks to your fans, has become practically famous on his own. every time you two walk through an airport, you can hear them calling his name, practically chanting it at this point, pointing out “the hot manager.” and there he is, looking away, rubbing his neck or practically burying his face into your shoulder

he’ll tug at your sleeve like a kid hiding behind their mom, he gets especially flustered when you turn it on him, all smug, saying, “y’know, i must be the luckiest one here, getting to have a handsome manager like you walking me around.” he rolls his eyes, a rare laugh slipping out as he mutters something sarcastic, trying so hard to brush it off, but you know he secretly loves it, the tips of his ears going pink.

and it’s not just for show. once you’re on your off time after a show, seungcheol’s literally all over the place, making sure you don’t lift a finger. he’s there, picking up menus, already knowing what you’ll want and what to skip (yes olives or goodbye olives). he’s at the counter, practically fighting to swipe your card before you can even think about it. it’s like he’s taken the whole “manager” title to heart, as if your well-being is his full-time mission.

he’s got this sixth sense for how you’re feeling too. the second you’re showing signs of exhaustion, he’s hunting for a place to sit, guiding you to a cozy bench or a shady spot under a tree like he’s found the red dot on a map. he even maps out little stops he thinks you’d like, you can’t even remember the last time you needed to decide on where to go.

staff!seungcheol who’ll walk around the city with you, way more relaxed now that he’s on familiar ground, all while pointing out tiny things he remembers from his own life. he’ll say, “used to skip class and hang out here,” or, “this place has the best coffee.” and it’s casual, but you can see how he’s sharing a bit of himself with you, almost like letting you in on these little secrets.

he’s the same guy who’ll quietly, without a word, take off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders when the night air gets too cold, muttering something like, “can’t have you freezing out here,” while you just laugh because he’s the one walking around in a t-shirt in the middle of the night now.

staff!seungcheol who watched you perform on the backstage through the reflector and in the second he sees you stumble, heart pounding harder than it should as his instincts kick in before he even thinks—he’s moving, pushing past a cluster of crew members and ignoring the calls of the other staff, all his attention zeroed in on you. the moment he reaches you, he’s crouching down, there’s this tremor in his voice as he says, “hey, stay still, don’t try to move,” reaching to gently check your injury while his jaw is set tight, his hand firm yet shaking ever so slightly.

he’s not even sure if it’s because he’s furious at the award organization for being careless or just terrified that he saw you go down at all. there’s this split second where he holds you, practically hovering over you protectively, and when you hiss in pain, his hand moves gently, brushing hair out of your face. “i’m so sorry, it’s gonna be okay,” he mutters, his voice way softer than he means, almost sounding choked.

and that’s when it really hits him—this worry clawing its way up his chest, tearing through the professional armor he’s kept on so tightly. all the stuff he’s tried to ignore, to brush off as “just his job,” it’s all boiling over now, searing him. because the sight of you hurt, struggling to get back on your feet, it’s affecting him way, way more than it should. he’s clenching his jaw so hard he thinks it might break, like he’s trying to hold back this tight feeling in his throat, but it’s too late. all he can think is this can’t happen again, this can’t happen to you.

“look at me, alright?” he says, his voice steadier now but barely. he’s doing everything to stay calm, but his hand is still on your shoulder, squeezing just a bit tighter than usual. “i’ve got you. we’re gonna get you checked out, and you’re gonna be okay.” it’s like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is you. when you try to shrug him off, muttering that you’re fine, he doesn’t even flinch—just picks you up like he’s done it a thousand times before, ignoring any protests, keeping you close to his chest as if letting you go is an option he just can’t entertain.

walking off stage, you’re half-leaning against him, but he can’t look at you without this flood of guilt hitting him. why wasn’t i there faster? he keeps thinking, like he could’ve somehow prevented this whole thing if he’d just been a second sooner, a second more vigilant. he knows it’s irrational, but the thought eats at him. with every step, the weight of what he’s feeling presses harder and harder, making him realize, damn, this isn’t just the job anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

and now, backstage, with you in his arms, his mind’s racing through a million scenarios of what could’ve happened if the injury had been worse, if he hadn’t been there. it’s almost infuriating, how much he cares, and for a split second, he feels like he can’t breathe, like every single barrier he’s tried to put up to keep things professional has just crumbled into dust.

when the medical team comes over, he still can’t bring himself to fully let you go. he steps back just a bit, giving them space, but his hand’s still resting on your shoulder, thumb unconsciously tracing soft, slow circles like he’s grounding himself in knowing you’re still right there. he catches your eye, the way you give him that reassuring smile despite the pain, and he feels this indescribable surge of… something he’s afraid to name, afraid to admit even to himself.

you’re talking to the medics, brushing it off, laughing even, and he’s half-listening, locked in his own head. he’s known all along he’s cared about you, sure, but seeing you hurt, actually holding you like this, it’s made him realize it’s different now. this is something deeper, something he can’t hide behind a professional mask or dismiss as just his responsibility. you’re not just his artist-boss not just the person he’s assigned to take care of. you’re everything—everything he wants to protect, to keep safe, to make sure stays as perfect and unbreakable as he sees you.

staff!seungcheol, who practically moves in with you after the injury, showing up almost daily with bags of groceries, adjusting the pillows on the couch just right, and doing anything he can to make your life easier while you’re stuck on this forced hiatus. he’s meticulous as always, organizing everything, but he still lets you do the simple things on your own when possible. he knows how much you hate feeling dependent on anyone, even him, so he keeps it balanced. still, every now and then, he steps in—like now, as you awkwardly try to pull on your pajamas with your one good arm, refusing to ask for help but struggling all the same.

“you’re gonna tear the sleeve,” he murmurs, chuckling softly as he crosses the room, gentle hands helping guide your arm through the pajama top like it’s nothing. “and before you say anything, you don’t need to feel embarrassed, alright?”

“yeah, easy for you to say,” you grumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as he adjusts the fabric against your shoulder, the familiarity somehow making it worse. he’s done this a million times on tour, yet here, in the privacy of your own home, with your messy pajamas instead of a flashy stage outfit, it feels… like a shame. hard to ignore.

he just shrugs, glancing at you with a small, reassuring smile. “you’ve got nothing to prove to me. trust me, i’ve seen you through worse—like that one time in paris when you twisted your ankle and tried to walk it off anyway?”

“ugh, don’t remind me.” you roll your eyes, but the memory actually makes you laugh a little. “that was your fault for letting me go out in those ridiculous heels.”

“you’re the one who insisted they looked good,” he teases, smoothing down the collar of your pajama top as if that final adjustment could make this whole thing feel less awkward.

it’s only a few minutes later, as you’re both sitting at the dining table, the food he’s prepped steaming and smelling way too good, that he seems to pick up on the shift in your mood. you’re quiet, picking at your food, trying to ignore the ache in your back and the faint, familiar discomfort building up, reminding you it’s that time of the month—again.

“you feelin’ alright?” he asks, studying you with that same, observant gaze. he reaches over, pressing a hand to your forehead to check for a fever, but you instinctively pull back.

“i’m fine,” you reply a little too quickly, shrugging him off as you try to mask the irritation in your voice. but you know he’s already suspicious. he’s been keeping track of your recovery, and since your doctor had him install that app to sync with your cycle and show schedule, he’s way too aware of these things.

you glance at the notification before he turns the screen down. you groan, “god, i hate that you’re this observant.”

he chuckles softly, “comes with the job..”

“yeah, well… it’s just—look, it’s… i’m on my second ovulation since this stupid injury,” you admit, cheeks heating up as you glance away. “and i can’t… y’know. can’t do anything about it. feels like i’m losing my mind.”

he’s silent for a moment, probably a bit stunned, and you peek up, expecting him to laugh or maybe even crack some joke, but his face is serious. finally, he clears his throat, and his voice is so quiet you barely catch it.

“y/n, you—you could’ve told me. if this is, like, getting to you, there are… other ways.”

your heart races, both from his words and from the way he’s looking at you, and you try to shrug it off with a half-laugh, but your voice wavers. “yeah, and what? you planning on giving me a hand?”

he doesn’t laugh. “if that’s what you need.”

“cheol… whatthefuck?”

“don’t want you suffering alone. if you need me, just say it,” he murmurs.

and in that moment, with him sitting across from you, earnest and willing, you realize maybe you’ve been holding back more than just your pain.

staff!seungcheol watches you carefully, still as a statue except for his hands, which are gripping the underside of the table so hard you swear you can see his knuckles turning colorless. he’s waiting, practically holding his breath, watching every small shift in your expression, and you know he’s waiting for any sign you’re second-guessing. but all you can think about is how much you want him. your eyes slip shut, and you let out a shaky breath, the idea of him, his hands, his mouth on you making you dizzy. when you open your eyes, you meet his, still fixed on you.

you don’t even realize you’ve let out a soft moan until his lips twitch into a faint smile, and he pushes back from the table, coming around it with measured steps. “you sure about this?” he asks, he’s close enough now that you can see every detail of his face—the stray strands of his hair falling across his forehead, the slight flush on his cheeks, the sharp cut of his jawline.

“cheol, please?” you murmur, because god, you need him to close this space, need him to touch you.

he doesn’t need to be told twice. he scoops you up, carefully laying you back on the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles as he moves higher, taking his time. he’s studying every reaction, every small sigh or shift, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. he glances up one more time, giving you a moment to stop him, but when you nod, his fingers hook under the fabric, peeling it down slowly.

“fuck, you’re drenched,” he murmurs, as his fingers dip between your thighs, gathering the wetness that’s practically dripping, and spreading on your clit. he raises an eyebrow, glancing at you with a smirk. “been waiting for this?”

you squirm under his touch, cheeks flushing as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his stubble grazing your skin as he trails his mouth higher, breath warm as he hovers above the wet cunt, your pussy clenches, making a wet sound, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

“stay still for me,” he whispers, before his mouth finally, finally connects, and the first touch has you gasping, fingers fisting the sheets. his tongue is slow, and you can feel his tongue sucking your juices inside his mouth. mortifying, delicious. you can’t help but arch your hips toward him, wanting more, but his hands press down on your thighs, holding you in place.

he pulls back just enough to murmur, “turned on?” and his fingers slide in, curling faultlessly as he starts moving, his mouth resuming its work on your swollen clit in a way that makes you disoriented. he doesn’t let up, alternating between teasing you and giving you exactly what you need, fingers curling tight, making the wet sounds louder, pressing against that spot that has you writhing.

“god, look at you,” he whispers, voice rough in your ear as he presses his fingers deeper, his breath hot on your skin. “you’re soaked, y/n. dripping all over my fingers… you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

your hips move instinctively, grinding down on his hand, but the way you’re shifting causes a sharp pain to shoot through your arm, making you gasp.

“hold on, wait,” he says immediately, pulling his fingers out, his other hand already moving to your side, gently easing you back down. his eyes scan you for any sign of discomfort, and then he places his hand firmly on your chest, palm pressing between your breasts as he pins you to the bed, keeping you steady. “just like this, okay?” he murmurs, fingers slipping back inside you, his thumb circling your clit. “you can still move down here, but let me do all the work.”

your breath catches as he holds you down, the feeling of his strong hand keeping you in place making you stumble breaths. you’re completely at his mercy, pinned under his hand, unable to do anything but grind against his fingers, and with every thrust, every word he murmurs, you’re spiraling further, faster.

“you’re so perfect like this,” he whispers against your skin, moving his fingers deeper, rougher. “such a mess, taking me so good… you’re gonna cumm for me? yeah? that’s it, just like that…”

your orgasm hits hard, your body clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling, and his hand on your chest keeps you from arching too much, grounding you as your entire body pulses he holds you steady, whispering soft, filthy praises into your ear as you come down, his fingers finally slipping out but his hand staying over your heart, steady and reassuring as your breathing slows.

you look up at him, the aftershocks still tingling, and he gives you a soft, satisfied smile, brushing his thumb gently over your collarbone. “now that’s my good girl.”

seungcheol hovers over you, his face an inch from yours, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. your breaths are shallow, still struggling to steady, and without another thought, you lift your neck and press your lips to his. he melts into it, kissing you deeper, tongue brushing over yours in a way that makes your skin tingle. he’s careful with his hands, keeping his wet fingers from your hair but awkwardly gripping the pillow, while the other hand slides down, lightly brushing over your chest.

“fuck… cheol,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling almost embarrassed by the way your body’s reacting. the word just slips out, and then it’s followed by, “want your cock so bad. just… just give it to me, please.”

he pulls back, and you’ve never seen that look before—his lips parted, brows raised, the most i-want-pussy-so-fucking-bad face you ever saw. he shakes his head softly, voice a little raspy, “you know i’d ruin you if i could right now,” he says, breath catching. “but it’ll hurt… don’t wanna push it too much.”

“please, cheollie,” you murmur, giving him a sly, knowing look. “you’re gonna be careful with me, right? just… give me a little. i need you so bad, been thinking about it all day…” your voice trails off, and you feel his hand grip a little tighter, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your chest through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

he takes a shaky breath, a low groan slipping out, and suddenly, he’s sliding off the bed, hands trembling just enough for you to notice as he pulls his shirt over his head. his skin is warm, tan, muscles rippling as he unbuttons his jeans, and you can barely breathe as he pushes them down along with his underwear, freeing himself. his cock is thick, flushed a deep pink at the tip, and the way he’s stroking himself, like he’s savoring every second, has you practically drooling.

unable to resist, you tilt your head up, parting your lips, tongue out as you bat your lashes at him, silently begging. he’s already at the edge of the bed, and he lowers himself, the weight of his cock pressing against your lips, and you can’t help the moan that escapes. it’s warm, heavy, and you lean forward just enough, taking him between your lips, letting your tongue glide along the underside.

he strokes a hand over your cheek, thumb grazing just beneath your eye, and his face looks wrecked, like he’s fighting every instinct to just take control. but he holds back, lets you set the pace, lets you tease with your mouth, your tongue swirling over his tip, tasting every inch of him.

you take his whole length in your mouth, sucking him slow, then pulling back to focus on the tip like you’re savoring the best thing you’ve ever tasted. you hear his breath catch, and when his knees falter, his hand grips your shoulder, the sound of his hissed “stop… stop,” barely reaching you over the rush of your own heartbeat. you pull back, licking your lips, watching his eyes go dark as he catches sight of his precum shining on your mouth.

he climbs back onto the bed, sliding between your legs, and you shiver as his rough hands smooth over your thighs, steadying himself, each touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin. his tip brushes your clit, slick and throbbing, and his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut like he’s holding himself back, muttering to himself as if he’s praying to keep control, like he knows he’s on the edge of just losing it. “what a fucking idea, seungcheol.” you can practically hear him thinking, fighting to keep the restraint that’s barely holding on by a thread.

but you want him to break just a little—so you reach down, your smaller hand wrapping around him, tugging him gently, aiming him just right. his eyes snap open, catching you in the act, and he’s on you in a second, his large hand covering yours, guiding himself to press against you, so close but not quite there yet. his forearm braces beside your head as his face hovers above you, dark hair brushing your forehead, and you feel the heat of his chest pressed to yours, your nipples tight against him.

a giggle escapes frpm you, bubbling up from the tension, aroused and just a little wicked, and his gaze sharpens. he bites his bottom lip, a smirk playing on his face, and asks, “think it’s funny to watch me suffer, huh?”

“me?” you bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. “wouldn’t dream of it… i’m just thinkin’ how it’s almost cute how fucked you are already. big, strong seungcheol, lookin’ like he’s about to cry before he’s even all the way in…”

he laughs, pushing just an inch further inside, making you moan, eyebrows scrunching as the heat between you builds. “gonna make you take back every word, babe,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of threat and promise, breath warm against your cheek.

you can’t help yourself, smirking up at him. “well, you better prove it then, baby. or i’m gonna have to tell everyone you barely held up through a single round.”

“oh, you think that’s how this is gonna go?”

and with that, he presses forward, sinking in deeper, your mouth dropping open as he fills you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him.

your walls tighten around him, barely able to take him in, but your body’s greedy, slick and warm, desperate to pull him in even further. your calves wrap around his ass, urging him, and in one move, you tug him, forcing him deeper, filling you completely. you cry out, head rolling back, but seungcheol groans, nearly collapsing onto you, his hand catching himself before he lands too hard.

“what the hell are you doin’,” he pants, shaking his head, his voice all gruff as he looks down at you. “you’re crazy, you know that? what if i’d fallen on your arm?”

you smirk, unashamed, reaching up to tug him down closer. “couldn’t help it… i needed all of you,” you murmur, voice dripping with need, your walls pulsing around him. “need you so deep you’ll still be there tomorrow.”

he laughs, but it melts into a growl as he starts to move. “you know i can’t take it too fast with you today.” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. “but damn, you’re tight.”

your hips tilt up, meeting him, matching the slow grind, and you look up at him, gaze heavy-lidded. “bet you’ve been thinking about this,” you purr, your fingers trailing down his chest. “probably losing it in that dressing room, thinking how wet i’d get for you.”

“fuck, don’t start with me,” he grits out, his hips faltering for just a second as you clench around him, and you can feel him twitch inside, pulsing as your words hit home. his hand finds its way to your neck, not squeezing but just holding, grounding himself as he slowly fills you over and over. “goddamn, y/n..”

“oh, i know,” you say, breath catching as he leans down, lips brushing yours, barely ghosting as his hips keep that steady, perfect rhythm. “i know exactly how you look at me, seungcheol. like you wanna destroy me.”

his breath hitches, and his hand flexes on your neck as he groans, forehead pressing against yours. “careful what you ask for.” he warns, voice low, but you pout up at him, lips pressing into the slightest pout, all needy.

“i don’t think you’re really up for it, anyway. maybe i need someone who can give it to me for real,” you murmur, words practically melting into his ear, and he stops mid-thrust, his eyes flashing as he studies your face.

“you’re pushin’ it,” he says, voice rough as he resumes moving, but you keep the playful look, barely biting back a smile as he grits his teeth. “if you didn’t have that arm to worry about, i’d have you crying right now, you know that?”

“oh, i know,” you coo back, dragging your nails down his back, just enough to make him hiss. “but what about now? all you can do is hold back ‘cause you’re too scared of hurting me. maybe it’s you who can’t handle it, huh?”

the muscles in his jaw tighten as he leans in close, hips still rolling into you with a slow, maddening rhythm that makes you squirm beneath him. “trust me, i could handle you just fine,” he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “but you’re so damn tight right now, i’d probably split you open if i went harder.”

“maybe i want that,” you whisper, your voice breathless as you shift your hips, taking him even deeper, feeling every inch stretch you with each slow grind of his hips. “maybe i want you to fuck me so good i forget my own damn name.”

seungcheol’s resolve nearly snaps. he groans, his hands gripping your waist to steady you, his thumb brushing along your ribs, and he lets out a shuddering breath, muttering under his breath. “god, ovulations are somethin’ else,” he says, voice cracking, clearly fighting for control. “you’re wet wet—like i might drown in you, damn.”

he lets out a low chuckle, his eyes clouded, almost in awe. “look at this mess,” he murmurs, pulling out just slightly to feel how soaked his length is before sliding back in, feeling your warmth close around him, every muscle clenching down on him, pulling him deeper, your eyes rolling back. “you really think you can handle it if i just… give you what you’re beggin’ for?”

you arch up against him, that challenging spark back in your eyes. “why don’t you just try me?”

he lets out a slow exhale, hand moving from your waist to cradle your face as he picks up the pace, still careful but with a bit more force this time, making you gasp. you whimper, nodding at him to continue, the tension building with each deep stroke, and you can see the satisfaction flash in his eyes as he keeps his rhythm steady, watching the way you start to fall apart beneath him.

he pulls out slowly, just enough to let you feel every ridge, every vein along his length, before pushing back in until his tip is pressed snug against your cervix, making you gasp. the pressure alone makes your head spin, and you can feel his balls, soaked and heavy, pressing against you with each movement, sticky with how drenched you are.

“you still think i’m not giving it to you right?” he taunts, his voice dipping low as he watches your face, one brow lifting just slightly, teasing. “you wanted it rough, didn’t you?” he grins, dragging a hand up your thigh, holding you open for him. “tell me, where’s that attitude now?”

“it’s—it’s…” you trail off, breath hitching as he thrusts again, slower, letting his hips roll so he’s as deep as possible, and you can’t help the shaky whimper that slips out.

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you,” he murmurs, voice smug as he leans down, kissing your jaw, your neck, every inch of you that he can reach while still keeping that maddeningly slow pace. “you were talkin’ so big before, and now look at you.”

“i… i can take it,” you stammer, clutching at his shoulders, though the words barely come out with how your voice keeps faltering, his rhythm somehow leaving you more breathless with each thrust.

he chuckles, brushing his thumb across your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “that so? ‘cause you’re already all teary,” he points out, a hint of affection in his tone, even as he keeps that teasing look in his eyes. “am i really that deep, baby?”

“y-yeah,” you manage to whisper, but your voice wavers, and he grins wider.

“tell me what you need, then,” he says, his hips moving just a fraction faster, the sound of skin meeting skin growing louder, wetter, echoing through the room. “tell me what you want so bad.”

“need… need you to make me cum,” you whimper, the words tumbling out, barely audible. “need to feel you.”

he huffs a little. “you’re falling apart just from this? and here i thought i had to really work for it.”

“i—i can take more,” you manage to gasp out, your body responding to his every movement. “just… just give it to me, seungcheol.”

he shakes his head, smirking as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “you really think you can handle it? with that arm and everything?”

“you know i can!” you protest, trying to keep your voice steady, but your hips betray you, rolling against him. “i’m not fragile, you know? just—just don’t stop.”

“is this what you’ve been craving? sum' good cock to make you cum?”

“yes, yes, god—yes!” you whine, the heat pooling in your belly, threatening to spill over at any moment. the sounds of skin slapping together mix with the sweet squelch of your wetness, making it even more intense.

“fuck—my balls are practically soaked from you. you like how that feels, huh? my cock in your sweet little cunt, makin’ a mess of you?”

“you’re so deep, it feels too good—”

“you okay? i’m not hurting you, am i?”

“no, it’s… it’s perfect,” you manage to breathe out.

“what do you think? you think you can handle more?” he asks, almost a growl as he quickens his pace just a bit, sending your mind spinning even further. “or are you just gonna cry for me?”

“shut up!” you whimper, tears finally spilling over as he hits that spot inside you.

“too good, huh?” he teases, biting his lip to stifle a groan as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “do you think i could make you cum like this?”

“yes! yes, just like this!” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you as you feel the familiar tension building in your core. “oh god, seungcheol—”

“what do you want to say?” he presses, leaning closer. “i want to hear you, babe. tell me.”

his thrusts become more insistent, and your body instinctively responds, clenching tightly around him as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

“that’s it, baby,” he encourages. “let it go. i want to feel you cum around me.”

“seungcheol, i—” your voice catches in your throat, your body convulsing as the pleasure overwhelms you completely, every thought dissolving into pure ecstasy. the world around you blurs as you finally let go, and all you can manage is a soft whimper as you surrender to it.

his eyes widen, watching you, makes your heart race even more, and as you tremble beneath him, you feel him pulse inside you, the sensation of his cock sending you spiraling deeper into that sweet oblivion. “my girl..” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he rides you through it, feeling your walls contract around him. “so fucking beautiful.”

staff!seungcheol who’s always attentive, watching you as you recover from your last high. he knows how much you need him, but he’s also so damn careful, ever the dedicated staff member. even as you beg him to keep going, to let him cum deep inside you, he hesitates.

he slips out of you, but you’re not ready to let him go. raising your hand, you grab him by the cock, your fingers wrapping around him with a tightness that makes him gasp. “what the hell? oh fuck!” he exclaims, almost stumbling forward as he’s pulled back toward you. his voice shifts from reprimanding to moaning, the scold dying on his lips as he feels your hand start to stroke him.

“i just want to make you feel good, too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you give him a few slow, teasing pumps, enjoying the way his hips instinctively thrust forward, chasing the pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re gonna get yourself hurt,” he warns shaky, his hands gripping your wrist, but there’s no real force behind it. he’s clearly enjoying it, his breaths coming faster as you continue to stroke him, your fingers gliding effortlessly over his length. “you shouldn’t—”

“shh,” you hush him playfully, biting your lip as you watch his expression morph into one of pure desire. “just let me do this for you. i want you to feel good.”

“god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that,” he groans, his voice trembling, but the way you’re working your hand up and down, your palm brushing the sensitive tip, it’s too much.

“then cum for me,” you whisper, a seductive promise in your tone. “i’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me. let go.”

staff!seungcheol, who can’t resist the way you look at him, all teasing yet so earnest, the way you squeeze him with just the right amount of pressure, your hand slick with your cum and sure as you stroke him.

staff!seungcheol, who gives in because he can’t help it, because every part of him is craving you, has been for so long. his hips jerk, thrusting up into your hand with a roughness he usually holds back. his eyes are dark, fixed on your hand working him, and he bites his lip, trying to keep himself steady, but it’s no use—you’re so close, whispering his name, brushing your lips over his with every stroke, and he’s already too far gone.

“i can’t hold back when you look at me like that.”

you laugh deliciously, the sound bubbling up from your chest as you lean in, licking his lips.

staff!seungcheol, who can’t hold back any longer, feels the heat rising in his cheeks as he realizes he’s about to spill over. his breath hitches, and just like that, he’s cumming—hard. it’s a mix of deep, throaty moans and soft whimpers escaping his lips, echoing in the quiet room. your belly and fingers are coated with him, and you can’t help but grin at the sight.

“yes, just like that! keep going, let it out, look at you, all moaning like a little slut. how does it feel?”

“shut up,” he mumbles, half-heartedly trying to glare at you, but his eyes are glassy, the words only making him blush deeper.

you smirk, lifting your hand to your mouth, where his cum glistens on your fingers. you start to lick it off, each slow drag of your tongue making his breath hitch in his throat.

staff!seungcheol who’s mortified, wide-eyed as he grabs your wrist, halting your movements and making your tongue stay out, eagerly waiting. “no, no, don’t do that!”

you pout at him, eyes big and pleading, your voice coming out in the sweetest “please?” he hesitates, visibly torn, but eventually lets go of your wrist, swallowing hard as you close your eyes and bring your fingers back to your lips. the way you lick it all up slowly, savoring each taste with a big-ass smile, drives him crazy. it’s like you’re teasing him all at once, every nerve in his body alive with the sight of you, so effortlessly and unapologetically indulging yourself.

staff!seungcheol who’s at a complete loss, his eyes wide as he watches, helplessly captivated by the way you move, the small smile on your face showing just how aware you are of his reaction. he shifts, clearly trying to gather himself, but you notice his fingers flexing at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you close again.

[amongemeraldclouds]

love blooms in strange places

When Mattheo was assigned to help you tend to the greenhouse as punishment, he never expected detention could be so pleasant.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, used my creative license to come up with plant lore and magic to serve the plot.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.7k words

When Mattheo Riddle started his day, the greenhouse was the last place he expected he would be. Yet that’s exactly where he was headed, kicking up dirt as he went.

Snape’s words haunted him as he slowed to the door. “Mr. Riddle, you had been in detention several times just this month alone. If you will not learn by reflection, you will learn by deed. As punishment, you will have to help y/n cultivate plants for a week.”

Before Mattheo could open his mouth, Snape raised his hand. “Any protests and we will make it a month.” He knew better than to talk.

He shook his head as he opened the door, eager to get it over with. He took in pots and plants of various shades of green, color sprouting sporadically where flowers and fruits blossomed. Then there was you.

You saw the curly haired boy approach, Mattheo Riddle, you recalled. Everything about him spelled trouble from the frown fixed on his face, to his askew tie, and the way he strut as if the entire world bent to his will.

You smiled and introduced yourself politely. Your mum after all had raised you to give others a chance. To look beyond first impressions.

Still, it didn’t surprise you when his frown stayed glued to his face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he just stated by way of introduction. “Here’s how this will work. I’m going to stay here,” he said, grabbing a chair at the side of the greenhouse and taking a seat. “I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. When the time is over, I’ll walk away. Nice and simple.”

“So you’ll just let me do all the work?” You huffed, your fists clenched by your side.

“Glad you’re catching on, darling. Go on. Some would say it’s a privilege to be around me but it’s okay if you don’t see that yet.” He flashed you a shit eating grin and propped his legs up the table across him. Such a shame. He’d probably be handsome if his personality weren’t so rotten.

You caught yourself and your expression turned livid. “No, being around you is punishment. I don’t know what I did to Snape to deserve this,” you mumbled to yourself.

Your mum may have raised you to be polite, but she also taught you to stand up against bullies. You strode over to the arrogant boy, plucking a bearded iris on your way. You crushed it beneath your fingers, muttering an incantation.

When you were close enough, you hurled the crushed petals at his feet. Upon impact, sparks burst. Bright searing sprays of light was accompanied by a loud bang.

Mattheo dodged it, losing his balance. His chair tipped backwards. He crashed to the floor.

The bearded iris was otherwise called the firebreather iris. He should have known better than to challenge you.

You towered over him. “You will help me as Snape intended. It’s bad enough I have to spend time with you. You will make yourself useful or that,” you pointed at the ashes of the firebreather iris, “is just the beginning of what I can do. There are poisonous plants around here like nightshade. I will not hesitate to use them and make it look like an accident.”

He looked at you as if he saw you for the first time. The fire was brighter in your eyes than the spark you had thrown. He was silent for a beat as he recalled what Theo warned him about nice girls. You never wanted to see them mad. They were always more clever and therefore more dangerous.

As much as he loved danger, he very much preferred to stay alive. Besides, things just got more interesting. He schooled his face to a bored expression. “Fine,” he said standing back up and dusting the dirt from his clothes and hair. “If you teach me that cool trick, I’ll help out.”

“Stick around and I’ll teach you a few things,” you nodded, satisfied. You tossed him a pair of gloves. “We’ll start here, plant boy.” He suppressed the smile that threatened to break across his features. It was fascinating how you snapped quickly back to your good natured self, as if you weren’t just threatening him moments earlier. If there was anything Mattheo loved, it was a challenge.

As he put on the gloves, he felt detention wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Threatened by the poison and lured in by the idea of learning plant magic, Mattheo had surprisingly been a helpful herbology partner.

Yes, he was stubborn and annoying. But at the end of the day, he was quick to pick up the steps, memorizing which fertilizer to use for what plant, and how much water each plant needed.

The weeks quickly passed and you found a comfortable rhythm. You just had to put up with those terrible lines.

“Are you a flower bed?” Mattheo asked, his face streaked with dirt as he hauled another bag of soil.

“What is it this time?” You rolled your eyes. You found it impossibly adorable and ridiculous how he managed to get dirt all over his face despite wearing gloves and other gardening gear.

“Let’s pretend you asked me why. ‘Cause I want to lay you down and get dirty,” Mattheo said with his signature smirk.

You tried not to laugh, but you couldn’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Mattheo considered it a win. “That seriously works for you?” You pointed in his general direction. “I’d rather choke on a cactus,” you beamed.

Mattheo chuckled, “then I want to be a cactus.”

“Oh why, because you’re a prick?” You retorted, shoveling more soil to the new pot.

“No, you can’t use these lines against me,” he said, narrowing his eyes, grabbing a handful of soil.

“Don’t be such a weeping willow about it,” you quipped. “And I swear if you throw that lump of soil, you’ll have to clean it up.”

“Why don’t we go straight to the cleaning part?” He teased instead, returning the soil. He grabbed the water hose nearby and turned it on, aiming it directly at you.

Before you could react, you felt a steady stream of water hit you, the cold shocking your entire system. “You really did it,” you muttered uselessly, releasing a string of curses as you gathered your wits about you.

You ran after him, but he was quick to deflect, running off the opposite direction, taking the hose with him. Five steps in, you slipped on the mud and landed on your back. The wind rushed out your lungs and you laid there recovering your breath.

“Salazar! Are you ok?” He asked, running towards you.

“Come here,” you spoke softly and he leaned in to hear you.

“My name is not Salazar,” you declared when he was close enough. “It’s an expressio—“ he tried to explain but in one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt. The surprise was enough to send him down the floor. He slipped in the mud and joined you. You grabbed the hose from him and sprayed him with water.

He flailed for a few seconds before he caught purchase and rolled over you, yanking the hose away and then switching it off. You both found yourselves in hysterics, bodies shaking from the cold and laughter.

“I can’t believe it. You really laid me down and got me dirty,” you managed to say in between laughter.

“This is not what I meant. But if you want to know what I mean,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. But he was rendered speechless, the words and laughter faded in his throat.

He didn’t think it was possible. But up close, you were even more beautiful with your captivating eyes and kissable lips.

His intense gaze stole the laughter and breath from your lungs. You felt his heartbeat drum against yours, your breaths mingled with one another.

It sunk in then that he was on top of you, gazing at you like he wanted to do a hundred and one sinful things to you. He had a forest full of desires and you wanted to explore every corner of it. To go on an adventure with him. So you did.

You weren’t sure who started it, but the next second you found yourselves kissing each other. It was better than any euphoria plants could induce. His lips felt surprisingly soft and he started off tentative, seeing if you were okay with it. You just needed more and he quickly matched your pace, taking in as much of you as he could.

He was no longer gentle and he ran his hand through your mud streaked hair, holding you just where he needed you, deepening the kiss. You tugged on his hair in return and he rewarded you with a groan, his chest rumbling against you. He licked your lower lip, prompting you to open your mouth as his tongue darted in, exploring until you both needed to come up for air. Panting against each other.

“Why are you looking at me like I just kicked a puppy?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You’re just a boy trying to get through detention,” you stated.

“Darling, my detention was only a week long,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “But this is your third week helping me.”

“You still haven’t taught me how to make fire with flowers yet,” he said, kissing you on the nose.

“You’re not afraid I’d poison you?” You narrowed your eyes, recalling your threat.

“I looked it up. The nightshade you mentioned that first week isn’t even poisonous. You never meant to poison me, dear.”

“But you fell for it, that’s what mattered,” you insisted.

“Maybe it’s you I’ve pollen for,” he quipped.

“You’re never gonna stop with the plant puns, aren’t you?”

“No, because you’re ivy and you’ve fully crept in my thoughts. Next, you can creep in my—” you kissed him then to shut him up. He didn’t seem to mind at all. You really had had enough of his silly plant puns, even though you couldn’t get enough of him.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

[vroomvroomcircuit]

From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you

(A/N): This has been written with the inspiration @foreveralbon brought me. I love you and your incredibly mind, honey

Summary: Lando's girlfriend is a seamstress working at a tailor shop. She is repairing his clothes, he is cutting holes into his sleeves. Together, they release the cutest merch

Pairing: Lando x fem!reader

Warnings: None, this is so fluffy, I'm crying myself to sleep. I need a Lando like this

Wordcount: 2.9k

🏎Masterlist🏎 __________________________

(Y/N) thinks she is about to go crazy. Manic even.

Over and over again she patches up holes in her boyfriend’s long sleeves.

And over and over again new holes appear. It’s like this is her Sysiphus task. Just repairing Lando’s clothes day in and day out.

Don’t get her wrong. (Y/N) does this for three different reasons.

The first being that she is a seamstress, working in a tailor shop. This craft is how she pays her rent and food.

The second reason is that she really can’t have her boyfriend go out looking like he just got picked up at the side of the road begging for a warm meal and shelter.

The third reason may be less obvious than the previous ones. Acts of services is (Y/N)’s love language. She is not particularly good at letting people around her know of the appreciation she holds for them. Verbally at least. It’s not the way she grew up. She learned that actions speak louder than words can. So patching up her boyfriend’s clothes gives the young woman the opportunity to prove how much she loves him. She just hopes that Lando understands the meaning as it is intended.

Little does (Y/N) know, Lando really appreciates her patching up holes. What he isn’t a big fan of is when she repairs those that are intentional. The ones in his long sleeves are put there on purpose.

While (Y/N) is meticulously sewing, Lando goes snip snip in the other room with a pair of scissors. He just loves having sleeve paws, but it’s annoying when his thumbs are jailed in.

“Lando, have you seen my scis- What are you doing there?!” He turns around, looking at his girlfriend like a child being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Freeing my thumbs?” He tries to explain in a small voice, scared that she is about to go off on him for ruining his clothes.

(Y/N) sits down next to him on the ground. “If you have told me you want thumb holes, I could have done it for you. I would hem them for you, so they won’t fry. If you want me to, can I take some of your shirts to the shop tomorrow and work on them during slow times?” The way Lando’s eyes light up makes her wish for a camera to keep the memory of it.

(Y/N) not only fixes the holes in his sleeves.

“Love, would you put another patch on my jeans?” Lando saunters into her little crafting room. When she moved into his apartment in Monaco, he insisted on transforming a guest room into her own sewing cave. It was only fair. He got his gaming room as his hobby room, so his girlfriend needs her own territory too.

The room is filled with different sewing machines, one wall is decorated with threads of all kinds, colors and thicknesses. Several shelves are overflowing with different fabrics of any kind imaginable. Every shade, pattern or reflection that any crafter would kill for. Lando really spoils her and happily let’s (Y/N) run loose in a craft store, draining his credit card to her heart's fullest content.

(Y/N) would feel bad, if it wasn’t for the big difference in salaries they sport. Also, it is Lando’s way of treating his girl. Instead of flowers or a bag he buys her a new Bernina B 325, which is not something she is exactly complaining about. They share most of their expenses, but still, working at a tailor shop will never make you a millionaire.

Currently working on her own project of making a quilt out of scrap fabric for Max’s upcoming birthday, (Y/N) barely looks up to her boyfriend. “Yes, of course, sunshine. Just put it over there and I’ll have a look at it in a bit. Do you have any preference for the new patch? I ordered city themed ones a few days back and they arrived today.”

Without having to be pointed into the direction, the Brit already goes through the drawer that is solely dedicated to the patches (Y/N) accumulated during the last few years.

If he is being honest, that kind of work of hers is his favorite. Lando is just amazed by the different shapes, colors and themes her collection entails and how her delicate efforts bring a new individual mark to his favorite pair of jeans.

“I think I want to go with this one,” he mumbles after sifting through the drawer. Lando places a small rose next to the currently used sewing machine for her to not have to search for it in the midst of the chaos that is going on on the several desks in this hobby room.

He actually loves spending some down time here, especially when his girlfriend is working on her own projects. Lando hides under one of the desks, sometimes scrabbling away on pieces of paper for the next helmet sketch, sometimes answering some important emails on his laptop and other times he lies down between different piles of fabric and takes a nap. Having (Y/N) hack away with the machine, occasionally cursing under her breath when she pinches herself sewing something by hand or the music playing on a low volume brings Lando great comfort.

Spending quality time this way is secretly Lando’s happy place that he visits mentally during stressful patches when he is away.

A couple days later the door to the tailor shop (Y/N) works at rings the bell, alerting her of a new customer. “I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls from an adjoining room, cleaning up her work space from the trims that have been left by the jeans she just shortened.

“How can I hel- LANDO!” The young woman exclaims, rounding the register to jump into his arms. “I thought you’ll return from Australia tomorrow”, she murmurs into his shirt. The thumbs are, of course, able to escape through the holes she recently cut and hemmed like promised.

He laughs into her hair. “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work like the good boyfriend I am. I also got you something from ‘Straya.” Out of thin air (his back pocket actually) Lando procures a small stack of Australia themed patches.

“Oh, honey, they are perfect. Thank you so so much!” She kisses him all over the face until finally putting her lips onto his. “Just let me close the shop and we can go home and enjoy our evening.” Lando presses another kiss onto her lips, “Hurry up, I can’t wait holding you in my arms again.”

While (Y/N) packs her things up, Lando goes through a stack of different fabrics. One in particular catches his eye.

“Hey love, where did you get this heart patterned fabric? What do you have planned with that?” (Y/N) pops her head in to see what her boyfriend is pointing to. “Oh, that one. The owner was negotiating a deal with a new supplier and wanted to check out the quality. We wanted to see if this one is durable enough to make shirts out of it.”

An idea is forming in Lando’s app, that he quickly puts down in the notes app on his phone.

She emerges from the side room with her back and something else. “Would you try this on for me?” (Y/N) asks innocently, handing Lando a jean jacket. It is a bit oversized on him, just the way he likes.

“It’s pretty nice. What do you need me to model this fo- This is one of the patches I just gave you!” Lando admires the kangaroo that looks like it’s taking a jump on the sleeve. “I thought this would be a fun little project for the season. After every race I’ll put a patch from that country on the jacket. I can also stitch some additions onto it as well for when you get a podium or win or are voted as driver of the day and so on. Just, I thought this could be something cute.” (Y/N)’s face heats up the more she talks about her idea.

Lando pulls her into his arms, squishing his girlfriend as close as possible to his body. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the work and thought you put and are putting into this.”

Like the proud trophy boyfriend he is, Lando loves modeling whatever his girlfriend sewed, patched up or created and pimped up in some other way while entering the paddock. Just as he predicted mentally, the fans are going crazy about his jacket online as he wears it on Wednesday for media day.

“I see, (Y/N) loved the patches you bought her. At least dragging me through every craft store in Melbourne that I know of has paid off for you”, Oscar remarks dryly as he watches Lando hanging up the jacket in the hospitality.

“Yeah mate, she sewed it on immediately. It’s her newest project, putting on a patch for every country we race in during this season after the race. She also wants to add a bunch of things for special occasions during the races.” Lando explains fondly the thought process behind the jacket.

As he is leaving the paddock later that day and signing several cards, caps and other merch, some fans ask him where he got the jacket from. “Oh, that old thing? I’ll gatekeep this one. Good luck on finding the store.” He answers a young woman while putting a bracelet she handed him on his wrist.

He hasn’t gone public with his girlfriend yet. The people know that he is in a relationship with Lando having started an already several months long soft launch, that includes their socked feet during movie nights and her backside in beautiful sunset scenes. So nobody knows what she does for work and the two of them want to keep the little bubble of secrecy they have so far going for a bit longer. Out of the public eyes without the pressure of fans and media.

It felt like a scavenger hunt going online and seeing fans and other media outlets trying to find Lando’s particular jean jacket. For the two of them it becomes their evening entertainment, reading up how everyone and their mother are losing their minds from not being able to detect where it is from.

“The chat is asking about that dumb cloth again. Just tell them where you got it.” Max groans, even his own chat during the stream isn’t safe from the assault. Lando, who chills on his bed while waiting for a message from his girlfriend about her being done with work, just smiles. “Come one, please lift the secret. I can’t even roll my eyes often enough times, that is how annoyed I am by this whole thing.”

The Brit loves the suspension around the subject, but gets up and saunters over to the monitors. “Ok Chat, I will only say it once and never again. Get your pens and papers out and write it down. So, this jean jacket with the patches is a designer piece. You can’t get it anywhere else, it was custom made and no, the designer doesn’t want to go into mass production with that one. But I am cooking something up. Just be patient, I feel like I will be able to make a deal for you. I just need to work my magic, but that takes time. My name is not Tinkerbell.” 

His little sass tirade is broken up by the ping of his phone, making Lando scramble for it to see his love’s text. “Chat, do you see how down bad that man is for his girlfriend?” Max ridicules Lando, giving him payback for all the teasing against himself.

While the chat is going insane, with the certainty that this moment has been clipped and will be used for edits by the fans, Lando just smiles at his phone, shooting a quick reply of picking her up. After that he packs his stuff and throws a quick goodbye to Max and the stream, onto the way to the tailor shop.

There she stands, his love in all her glory in front of the closed store. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the building for me? It’s dangerous to be out alone, especially for such a beautiful person like you!” Lando scolds her lightly when he reaches her, taking her bag from her shoulder, throwing it onto his own back.

But (Y/N) presses a kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It’s all ok. When I saw the headlights of your car, I stepped out and closed the shop behind me. I knew that my Tinkerbell was close by in case I needed saving.”

Lando wants to reciprocate the kiss, but stops mid air when he processes her words. “You watched the stream?” That shocks him a bit, because (Y/N) usually keeps out of this part of his life. It’s not really her world, streaming and gaming. So that’s one of the hobbies they don’t share, being the healthy couple, without a horrible codependency, they are.

“No, a friend sent me that clip a few minutes earlier”, she snickers, “Were you talking about me? About wanting to work a deal out?” Lando throws his arm around her shoulders, leading the young woman into the direction of where he parked his car. “I did. Originally I planned on woohing you by a nice candle light dinner and after that I wanted to ask you if you were open with making a few designs for LN4. The fans are going crazy over the pants and jacket. You also have the eye for the details that I love on clothes. It would make me so happy to hold something in my hands that we both worked on, to know that people in the whole world will wear it.”

(Y/N) looks up at her boyfriend, watching his side profile while he is rambling about the meaning of a collab between the two of them. How he can’t stop smiling over the excitement of the prospect of their merch line together, the way his eyes light up, his free hand gesturing while explaining a few ideas he has saved on his phone. She can’t help but press another kiss onto his cheek, effectively quieting him down.

“I will make that collab with you happen. I already have a few things drawn out in a notebook, I was just too scared to show you the sketches, not wanting to intrude or impose myself onto your business.”

Instead of saying anything, he just picks her up and throws them in a circle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He repeats over and over, both laughing about his childish antics.

A couple of months, several trial and errors as well as creative differences later, they stand in a studio, overseeing the photoshooting with the new collection.

“Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to launch our relationship to the public? With your face visible in the pictures?” Lando muses out loud while looking over a rack with hoodies. (Y/N) throws him a shocked look. “I mean, we can take a couple of pictures together with a few articles and also take a few of you individually too. The world needs to know the mastermind of these designs. You need to take credit for all the hard work you have done.” He explains, taking her hand and gesturing to the set up with the other.

She lets the idea rummage a bit in her head. It would be the perfect way to go public, especially since this is the first time her designs are commercially sold. (Y/N) breaks out into a smile, nodding rapidly. Lando can’t help but also smile, getting infected by his girlfriend’s happiness.

Weeks after that the new merch drop gets released to social media. The press and fans are eating up the couple's pictures, finally having a face to the woman, who is able to fluster Lando through text messages alone.

The clothes itself also get the best feedback.

A variety of the jean jacket and patched pants are now available for fans to buy, being able to kind of replicate Lando’s paddock look, coupled with a heart patterned hoodie from the collection.

But nothing gets close to the original with the many hand sewn details on Lando’s jacket, even when fans try to imitate them. A nice side effect is seeing other people picking up the craft of hand sewing and stitching.

Many people swoon over the long sleeves with cut out thumb holes. They especially love the heart shape of the holes.

It’s a perfect detail to the name of the new line.

‘From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you’ is printed in one way or another on every piece.

Because no matter the distance between Lando and (Y/N), they can feel the love for each other over any distance.

[pagesoflauren]

Calamitous Love Chronicles: Delicate Beginning Rush (2/4)

ex veteran!Steve Rogers x reader

Premise: Steve Rogers blows into town in search of some estranged family. As he settles into civilian life, he realizes leaving work is hard and perhaps the world will never stop needing him.

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, mentions of abandonment by a romantic partner, complex familial dynamics, sexual content.

Thank you to @hyperfixationhovel. And if you're still around, thank you for being here as I find myself again.

Main Masterlist

After dinner, Ari and his wife helped set up Ari’s old bedroom to be Steve’s for the duration of his stay.

“You’re welcome as long as you need to stay,” Ari reassured. “Absolutely no rush for you to get back on your feet. Sounds like you’ve been through hell.”

While they all tried to get to know him, they understood that there were some things that weren't yet ready to be spoken about. Nobody pushed him, and Steve shared what he was able to. 

Settling under the covers with a sigh, Steve rolls his shoulders back to relax his muscles. He places his palms on top of the flannel sheet, the fibers sticking to the clammy skin. With a swipe of his hand, he tries to get rid of the moisture, but it just causes more to come to the surface. 

Steve decides to clench his fists instead but reminds himself to keep his face relaxed to try and go to sleep. 

The visions behind his eyelids are relentless; as one washes away, another comes to replace it. Resigned, he opens his eyes and looks out the window.

The moon is full, surrounded by gray wispy clouds gliding across the sky, carried by a silent wind. Sighing again, Steve shifts around to make himself comfortable. Cheek pressed against the pillow, he realizes the nightmares started when he began his journey back home. 

On missions, sleep was precious and time was a commodity. To any normal person, sleep is a time of respite from day-to-day life, filled with fantastically pleasant images or even nothingness as the body recovers from the exhausting burden of living. To Steve and his team, it was a short burst of rest, a hard reset before getting right back to business.

Always on the move, there was never any time for demons or terrible memories to catch up to him. But now, with all the time in the world, he’s a sitting duck and those dark thoughts are poised, ready for the kill. 

Steve watches as the moon moves across the sky like a screensaver, keeping everything that haunts him at bay. As the sky turns a shade lighter, he gets up and rifles through his clothes, scattered between his bags and dresser. 

Dressing in some joggers, a pullover, and grabbing his running shoes, Steve quietly makes his way through the living room and out the front door. After he nudges his feet into the shoes, he takes off, running down the beaten path through the woods. 

- - -

“There you are!” Marcella greets Steve as enters the cabin. “How many eggs do you want?”

He’s met with the rich smells of American breakfast foods and gurgling of the coffee maker. With a blink, he smiles. 

It sounds and smells like home.

“I’ll take four, over medium, please.”

“Coming right up!” 

“Were you able to sleep at all?” Ari asks, looking pointedly at him as he loads bread into the toaster.

“Ah,” Steve exhales awkwardly, trying to find the right words. “Not quite. But not because I was uncomfortable.” 

“Understandable,” Bunny says, looking up from the stove. “New place, it’s an adjustment. But it looks like you were able to get some exercise in.” 

“Yeah, I was.”

“The forest path is great for that! There are a few here, you’ll never get bored. Oh, pancakes, by the way?”

“They’re chocolate chip today,” Marcella adds.

“Oh, yes, please. I’ll have two.” 

“Oh, hear that, Ari?” Marcella turns to her son, “Looks like you could learn about balanced meals from Steve.”

Steve snorts as Ari’s eyes narrow at his mother.

“Bunny, I’ll have four pancakes, please,” he says pointedly. 

“Yes, dear,” she laughs.

“Help yourself to some coffee, if you’d like. Sugar’s next to the machine and milk’s still in the fridge.” 

Steve takes up the offer, grabbing one of the mugs lined up on the counter. There are four, and he smiles to himself again. 

“Um,” he begins. “Thank you, for bringing out a mug for me.” 

Everyone exchanges pleasantly surprised looks at each other before looking back at Steve. Ari pipes up, “How could we not? You’re family.” 

They return to their respective tasks: Ari wraps up the bread and places it back in the basket; Bunny flips a pancake onto a serving platter and pours more batter into the pan; and Marcella turns over one of the eggs she’s making for Steve. 

With both parents passed on and his team somewhere out in the world doing who-knows-what, Steve entered Barber feeling isolated from everyone. 

But here, in this kitchen, with a seat at the table, a plate of pancakes and eggs coming his way, and a mug for coffee, there’s a sense of safety. Not quite in the way that someone is watching his six or looking from a vantage point, but in the simplicity of being thought of and cared for. 

- - - - -

“You need fresh air.”

Steve hums in confusion as he turns to Marcella.

“Did my Albie some good when he would have nightmares.”

“How did you–”

“I’ve seen that look before; it’s the same as his when he couldn’t sleep well the previous night.” 

A sense of bewilderment falls over Steve as he realizes she’s not even looking at him, rather maintaining her focus on her current knitting project. 

“I–”

“There’s a park not too far that we would go to and sit on the bench under the willow tree. It’s nice to be under the shade. I’ll tell them where you went, just be back by dinner or else we’ll launch a search party.” 

Knowing an indirect command when he hears one, Steve finds himself getting up and grabbing a jacket before heading out.

“Bring a hat and wear sunscreen!” 

- - - - -

Baseball cap tucked tight onto his head, Steve’s knee bounces sitting underneath the swaying fronds of an old willow tree. 

He’s not a fool, he can see how this would be serene and calming, but the tension in his muscles don’t seem to release. The fresh air is invigorating and a wonderful contrast to stale atmospheres in hideouts and home bases used solely for shelter. 

As he concentrates harder on relaxing, he’s interrupted.

“Hi, Steve.”

Turning to the source of the voice, he finds you standing in a sundress and wide-brim hat, picnic basket tucked into your elbow. 

He greets you in return. “Having a picnic?”

“Yeah, couldn’t let the sunshine go to waste. How are you enjoying your day?”

“It’s here and there.” 

“I understand,” you nod. “Well, if you don’t have plans, I was going to set up not too far from here. I have plenty of food and snacks; I was just going to relax for the rest of the afternoon. You’re welcome to join me, or not, if you’d rather stay here.”

His response is almost a knee-jerk reaction, agreeing to join you. He’s not quite sure where that comes from but you don’t seem to pay attention to it. Instead, you bid him to follow you to a sunny patch of grass. Setting the basket down, you take out a blanket and begin to unfold it. 

As the blanket begins to grow larger, Steve realizes how useless he’s being and grabs the other end, helping you open it up and keep it flat on the grass. It’s not too large, but it’s enough for two people to comfortably sit without invading each other’s space.

He watches as you kneel and bring the basket onto the blanket, beginning to take out a container of bright red strawberries and sliced kiwis. When you look up at him after taking out a covered platter, he feels his body tighten in social anxiety.

“Would you like to sit?” you offer, seeming to repeat your invitation from earlier. 

“Oh, yeah,” he stammers, crouching down and trying to get into a comfortable position. He wriggles around for a moment and hears a snort from you as he settles on sitting on his bottom with his legs extended, hands positioned back to support his upper half. “What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, “When was the last time you went on a picnic?”

“I have to think about that one.”

And he does. It’s not an automatic memory retrieval, not like remembering Bucky’s blindside or how to navigate a smoke screen. He ventures deep into the annals of his brain, almost like an archive room with thousands of dusty files and the smell of old paper. 

Childhood memories are like faded pictures; he can see the indistinct figures of Bucky as a child, running with other boys whose faces he can’t remember. He thinks he laughed in that moment, but he doesn’t know what they were playing. He can see the picnic tables and detect the faint aroma of coals on a grill. There’s brightly colored candy on the brown and green grass, girls screaming as a boy chases them with a lizard. 

“I don’t know how old I was,” Steve shrugs. “Maybe seven or eight. I think it was for a birthday party. But it wasn’t like this, there were picnic tables, like something you’d reserve at a park.” 

“Ah,” you nod. “I really like coming here on a sunny day, there’s lots of space for a nice little picnic to have a snack outside, maybe read a book.” 

Humming in agreement, Steve doesn’t know what to say. It’s been ages since he had a conversation about anything other than work. Whenever an interaction extends beyond the weather and one’s state of being, he’s lost. 

A happy jingle begins to come into earshot and a few kids nearby scream in delight, making you giggle as Steve startles at the sounds. Aggressively pushing down his response to rush to the rescue, he realizes most of the park goers attention has been captured by an ice cream truck. Parents hold their children back from running headlong into the parking lot to be the first in line, waiting as the brightly colored vehicle finds a spot and parks. 

Once settled, the large window on the side opens up and a deep voice bellows, “Ice cream!” Kids surge forward, racing to get into line before each other. The man in the truck begins to direct them, making sure everyone is being fair and nice to each other. Once the line is orderly, he begins to take orders. 

“Would you like something?”

“Usually I wait until the line shortens,” you reply.

“But then all the good stuff might be gone by then,” he argues. 

You huff in a laugh, “Good point. I’ll have a scoop of cookie dough in a cone, please.” 

Watching him get up and jog over to the line, you laugh at the comic image of him taking a spot behind a boy who can’t be much older than five. He sticks out among the other patrons, the only adult as the kids ahead of him crane their heads to look at the man in the truck and get on their toes to reach for their cones and cups. 

You grab a strawberry and bite into it, unable to stop yourself from thinking how he seems to try so hard at being just a normal person despite looking anything but. He showed up in Barber out of nowhere, which isn’t unusual, but someone of his stature and gait when he moves sticks out. 

Barber has always been a quieter place to live, nobody has any particular rush. You’re used to the occasional person or group stopping in on their way to somewhere else, but even they don’t have the same rigidity Steve has. Slow life in a slow town means leisure walks and headaches for city dwellers; you could imagine a New Yorker hating the sidewalks here filled with slow pedestrians. 

You don’t know much about him, only recalling he referred to himself as a “veteran.” With no visible malady, you can imagine the more invisible troubles that plague someone like him, who has likely seen things you can’t even begin to imagine. 

To go from that to Barber is an adjustment that would possibly take years to complete. As you put together a bite with a cracker, piece of cheese and some honey, you watch as he steps up to the window, laughing at a joke from the ice cream vendor. 

You chew as he pays and takes a cup and a cone, nodding in thanks to the man in the truck before heading back to you. As he returns, you finish chewing and dust off your hands before reaching out to take your cone from him.

“Thank you,” you smile. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” he replies, waving her off. “Thank you for inviting me to join you, you didn’t need to.” 

As the afternoon continues, the two of you spend time talking the time away. The sun moves across the sky without either of your attention on it, until it begins to descend behind the treeline. 

“I’m so sorry,” you start, feeling bashful, “I didn’t mean to take up your entire afternoon.” 

Steve smiles, mostly to himself, “Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing else I had planned for today.” And I can’t remember the last time I felt this way.

He leaves out the latter part of his thoughts, feeling his body physically reacting to the pounding of his memories from before his career as they scream to escape from their prison. His heart aches as it opens up, the muscle forming shapes it hasn’t in a long time. It makes his breath catch in his throat, ignites the tips of his fingertips. 

Your hand covers his, a gesture that douses the heat on his skin. He knows it’s meant to be friendly, but his brain screams to turn his hand over and grasp yours. He wonders how your fingers would feel between his, wants to know the warmth of your palm against his own. 

“Are you okay?” you check, ducking your head slightly to look into his eyes. There’s some concern in your expression and he does his best to brush off any trail of a wandering mind. 

“Yeah,” Steve clears his throat. “Can I walk you home?”

- - -

The breeze wisps around, lifting your hair and lapping at your skin. It’s a nice cool down after being in the sun. One by one, the street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in a soft yellow glow. 

You steal a shy glance at Steve as he looks around to take in the scene. The contours of his face are shrouded in shadow, bringing out the structure of his face. From the moment he stepped into the shelter, your knees nearly went weak, butterflies tickling in your stomach and fluttering down to your legs. The butterflies come back, wings flapping aggressively as you admire his features.

When his face gives a telltale tic, you look away quickly and he asks if there’s something wrong.

“No,” you answer a little too quickly. The shelter and your front door is only a few steps away, so you change the subject. “This is me.” 

“Convenient,” Steve remarks.

“Very,” you laugh. “I had a lot of fun today. It was nice to spend time with you. We should do it again sometime. If you want. You don’t have to, I just thought–” 

It happens quickly; Steve cups your jaw, tilting your head upwards to receive a kiss he presses into your lips. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he feels your face rush with heat, his own skin tingling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

You give a giddy laugh. “Seeing you.” Your eyes widen and lips purse, as if you spoke out of turn. “At least, I hope that’s what you’re getting at.” 

Steve laughs, straight from his belly and his memories continue to pound at the walls of the fortress containing them. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m getting at.” 

He kisses you one more time, and watches as you unlock the door and give him one more wave before the door shuts behind you.

Staring up at the sky, the stars shine, multitudes more than visible in a big city. He remembers nights in remote areas while on missions, the cold ground beneath his back as he attempted to get sleep. 

The image of your hand in his flashes across his memory, warming his body. 

Then, the walls crumble, and the memories come forward.

------

I've lost track of people who want to be tagged. If you'd like to be tagged, please remind me and I'll be happy to oblige :)

[elenthyaolyenths]

DAY 13 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok

Part 1/3: "Falling Angel" Aziraphale

Please, listen to this

Change everything you are

And everything you were

Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun

Revenge will surely come

Your hard times are ahead

Don't let yourself down

Don't let yourself go

Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best

You've got to change the world

And use this chance to be heard

Your time is now

Falling Angel, your time is now!

(yes I know this Muse song has another sense in the On Thin Ice universe - for Crowley. Well, our Fallen Serpent will show us what IS a true Survival, tomorrow. ;-)

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Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges. Well, this is a very special Tribute for me, and I was on a three-days break. So I didn’t really set a timer for the « On Thin Ice » sketches. Plus, I drew them quite in the same time and on the same file to be sure Crowley and Aziraphale would match. I guess I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart for each one of them (the clothes and the figures needed a lot of time), plus 1h30-2h on the colouring/shading for each one.

Be aware that in my first sketches for this project, Crowley and Aziraphale were supposed to train on the same ice rink, and I dearly wanted Crowley to be watching Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but, hello, it will be a triptyque��! So, guess what? About the third part… :-p)

About Aziraphale, as my « Falling Angel ».

« On Thin Ice » author, @blairamok, describes the Hydroplane ice skating figure as very representative of Aziraphale, and the drawing reference pictures were numerous enough to get some solid inspiration. It’s a complex skating figure. I have watched some ice skating tutorials on YouTube – because I wanted the movement of the clothes and hair to be accurate and, if I understand everything properly, even a slight alteration in the position of the arms can make you fall. Such perfection ! That IS the right move for Aziraphale !

I told sooner on my Gymnast !AU challenge that I appreciated drawing Aziraphale with realistic curves more and more each day – even if it still triggers me sometimes about my own shaming roundnesses. I realised my way of doing art – and my mind too, maybe - was evolving when I got back to check references in the amazing Blair artworks (link AO3). A few months ago, I felt insecure watching Blair’s Aziraphale, which seemed to me too much plump and very soft – not a « good sportive look », I thought then. But now I like him more and more, so maybe my way of thinking is changing, and I think this is for the very best.

My Aziraphale is performing a difficult figure, so he is using all his muscles into maintaining his balance. He seems so statuesque, so powerful, yet very focused and oblivious to the world around him, with his eyes shut. That is why he couldn’t share a glance with my Crowley. T.T

.

Maybe this is my way to guess Aziraphale’s behavior in the so-awaited « On Thin Ice »  next chapters. Focused on his own training, trying to ignore Crowley’s sassyness but still secretly impressed by his partner’s skills. Because they share the same love for Ice Skating, even if they don’t show it in the same way.

Blair, if you ever read this, thank you. For your artworks, for making us dream about a wonderful story that still remains to be told.

Thank you for « On Thin Ice », for your so-kind message last week, and for everything else.

I have faith. I’ll wait for your story. But even if it doesn’t exist yet, I am already dreaming about it, and this is priceless.

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[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Niffty Redesign! (3/7)

Holy shit was not expecting to finish in the same day much less in like… under 4 hours??? IDK IM HAPPY WITH HER THOUGH!!!!

My biggest inspiration this time was lovebugs and specifically this LPS lovebug

Yes im colour picking Niffty from a littlest pet shop. Who is gonna stop me? Hasbro? They don’t even own LPS anymore!

Im making Niffty a bit tanner because while I see it a lot in other fandoms, I don’t ever see tan asian people in the Hazbin fandom, tbh this place seems like its allergic to melanin in general. There’s also a lot of stigmatisation around POC women in Hazbin like I’ve mentioned before. I plan on having Niffty deal with a decent chunk of stuff later on, a lot of it relating to obessions and romance and learning how to manage feelings like that and keep relationships with other people.

I wanted her socks to be cute but also held up by a garter belt so you can gather she’s got something going on. People seem to stray away from the topic of Niffty and sex or romance because they see her as a child or have infantalised her in some way. Yes ik I talk about this all the time but like GOD it pisses me off.

Her maid dress is actually a much darker shade of hot pink to the point its not really hot pink anymore but it is I promise

Niffty’s main sins are lust, wrath, and envy, seeing as she is a lovebug and also her current backstory is killing a lover out of jealousy. The redder pink parts are supposed to be a mix of lust and wrath so I hope that comes across well?

The same thing can be said about her clothes and all that. With her dress and the reddish hearts it’s supposed to be like “in one sin there’s another” but idk how well I pulled it off. The stitched up heart is also supposed to represent her hopeful/eventually redemption. I’d like to give Niffty more character than just “crazy small lady” so I’ll be trying to balance being somewhat like that with also being a bit sensible. I think it definitely could be done but I have doubts Viv will do much with it.

It really sucks that the POC characters and especially women they just get reduced to one or two traits and then thats it. Viv already is terrible at writing women and I think writing Niffty for her is just boring because, again, she cannot write women. 90% of this rewrite is me saving the women/hj

There will be more indepth Niffty content from me eventually, as of now this is my backbone for her design and overall story. Btw I think her rubber gloves are cute but make really annoying squeaking sounds 24/7. No idea if I’ll pull off another fast design like this, but we shall see!🐐

[heeseungsnewwhore]

“Masturbation”

Kinktober Day 2

❥ oneshot

Pairing: Heeseung x fem!reader

Rating: 18+, mdni

Genre: kinktober

Warning/Tags: More Blood(if you know you know), uhm, you’re in a bath, Heeseung takes over, literally, more shaming, degrading, pussyplay, all kinds, dirty talk, he’s filthy, I mean vulgar, really nasty, y/n in a towel, you don’t get to have clothes as long as Heeseung’s around, chichinashi 🥞, Hee on his oreo-sama shit fr, yeah it’s late, sue me, following the events of day 1 kinktober “Biting”, enjoy 🩸

You have now found yourself trying to take a hot bath. Your water turning a light shade of pink as washed away the bits of dried blood. Your body covered now in more fang marks and bruises after your encounter with Jay and Jake in the lab. Of course that was after Jay had finally come to seek you out and found the position Sunghoon and Sunoo had you in. The two of them surrendering you over after a brief argument, Jay apologizing for not coming sooner.

You had been surprised by how sincere he was, but after you had gone to the lab...Things were just as Sunoo had said. Jay and Jake showed you why they called you a dirty chalice. You were covered in more fang marks and your body was aching all over. Bruises were already making themselves visible at your thighs, hips, and neck.

You sigh. “I want to go back…” You mutter to yourself before your eyes widen a bit. Back? To the other coven? Had you already started considering that your home?

It had almost been a year, but as you thought about it it didn’t feel like it had been very long since you had been trying to find an out- Before you were willingly giving yourself to aide the vampires in their dilemmas. That was until inevitably, things had become to dangerous for you to stay with Hongjoong and his coven. So here you were…With these other vampires who apparently held more power than most. Yet, you had to admit there was a part of you that missed them in a sense.

“Were you dating them or something?”

Suddenly your head shoots up to see one of said vampires now entering into the bathroom. Coming over to place what appeared to be a towel and some nightwear down for you. He’d also been hanging around long enough to be eavesdropping on your thoughts it seemed as well.

“I’m Heeseung…We’ve met a few times before.” He says as you shake your head.

“I-I know who you are…” You mutter before trying to submerge yourself deeper into the bubbles. “I just didn’t expect to see anymore of you right now.”

“Well, if I didn’t you’d be stuck in here wet and naked- No way you’re putting these back on.” He says before gathering up your bloody dress and throwing it into the hamper.

He seemed considerate enough- But you’d learned not to let this lot get the benefit of the doubt from you. They were in fact way more intense than the other coven you had recently resided at.

“Heeseung! Hey! Have you seen my-“

You suddenly hear a voice call, both you and Heeseung looking to the door as you see yet another vampire emerge.

It’s Jake. He was about to invite himself into the bathroom before he stops in his tracks, seeing you in the bathroom as well. A certain smile taking over his lips.

“You lose something?” Heeseung says with a sniff, giving the other a certain look and Jake can already feel the tension.

“I did, Jungwon wa-“

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Heeseung says quickly before swinging the door closed in the others face.

You couldn’t help but try to stifle a chuckle at the others actions. Him seemingly just as amused as he notices your reaction. But he’s leaning against the door now, his arms folded and ankles crossed with his red hues dead set on you.

You glance about uncomfortably for a second before finally speaking. “So you’re just…gonna hang out?”

“Oh do you want Jake’s company instead?” He offers, a hand coming down to grab ahold of the doorknob.

“No! No, no.” You give a sigh of defeat. “I’ll finish…”

And there you were. Trying to commit to the rest of your bath with those eyes on you. His gaze seemed…Normal? For the most part. That is if he wasn’t staring at you while bathing. But with his red eyes something about it was intense. You could feel it. Feel him. Your body absently going tense from time to time as you went to move to finish cleaning yourself. It was beginning to become odd…Some feeling. Some sort of sensation that was foreign to you almost.

Something was off.

Very off.

Your body doesn’t quite feel like itself. It’s like a warm and prickly sensation. Crawling up your legs before making its way all over. Your limbs feel strange…Like they’re not quite yours. But that doesn’t make any sense. Taking a wet hand up to run your fingers through your hair, you close your eyes tight for a moment, taking a slow deep breathe before opening them…But as you do, you’re seeing yourself from across the bathroom. Of course your mind is going into panic, especially now that you’re watching yourself turn to look your way with a smirk.

“Oh, that other coven must not be able to do this…This is gonna be fun.” You heard your voice from your body yes- But you knew surely now that it was Heeseung somehow. Yet, where you were now was occupying his perspective. As if the two of you had suddenly switched bodies. Though you couldn’t even speak or move, he continues to use your voice. Manipulating your body and movements. “Your body isn’t half bad either…”

You watch yourself say before there’s a hand slipping down between your thighs, and though disabled- You can feel every sensation when he’s using your hand to play between your folds.

He seemed to have felt it too with the way you’re watching your head tilt back agaisnt the edge of the tub with a sigh. Out of all the things that you had been subjected to and learned about the vampires so far…This was one of the last things you expected could ever happen. There’s another sensation after you’re being used to tease your own clit. A finger surely. He’s using your hand to slip a finger inside and there’s something about it that’s so odd but all at once exhilarating. Dizzying. Intoxicating. Whatever this was that he was able to do, had some incomprehensible effects on your mind. It was like a fever dream. Every sensation was so much almost too much in the simple touches you were experiencing.

“Fuck…You’re tight too.” You hear your voice again with a mix of your own breathy moans. “Oh~…You liked it when Sunoo played with it too? Slut.” He giggles with your voice and you couldn’t help but recall Sunoo from just hours ago while he had your hand down there. So of course he was aware of your thoughts.

This was insane. Beyond insane.

Too much.

You could feel your mind slipping. Going into a haze that wanted to give into everything you was using your body to do. Watching as you winced at the sensation of your own second finger he was now beginning to work into you.

“Oh, fuck…Y/n, are you a virgin? There’s no way…” You’re watching as your back arches against the tub, two of your fingers now slowly pumping themselves in and out. “Oh, it feels so good~…” Your voice chuckles. “You can’t deny it- Is it fun? Watching me use your body to get us both off?”

You couldn’t stand it.

The overwhelming sense of the entire situation had your mind completely wrecked. Heeseung wasn’t just inside your head, he was in your body, somehow. Using you somehow and feeding off the pleasure he was getting from it with this twisted ability of his. Everything only beginning to become more intense. Watching yourself as he brings your free hand up to fondle and play with one of your breasts. Now he’s not saying anything with your voice. It’s just the sounds of you moaning, writhing in the tub. Working yourself open and through with your fingers. Everything building up as it all became faster and faster.

You were close.

You could still feel everything and Gods-

He was really going to do this.

There was no way.

No way-

Suddenly you’re gasping. Really gasping, practically choking on the air as you’re able to claim your own perspective again. You’re back in the tub. You’re you again. Quickly and carefully recoiling your hands from where the vampire had used them, now looking around to see that he was gone. Simply hearing a laugh from him echo fro the other side of the door, and fade away. Yet the door appeared to have never even been opened.

You jump out of the tub, not sparing another thought or curiosity. Not even bothering to drain the water as you grabbed the towel, quickly making an attempt to dry yourself off before reaching for the clothes.

Except.

They weren’t there.

The only thing that was left was the towel you had just discarded to the floor. Now having no choice but to pick it back up from the floor and wrap it around yourself. You take a breath now looking to the door. You didn’t have much of a choice now. You’d have to make it to your room, rather than sitting there and waiting for one or more of them to find you vulnerable and completely naked like this. You now make your way over to the door, carefully beginning to pull it open. As you peak through the door, you see that the hallway is clear. At least as far as you can tell. That is until you notice something on the floor.

One of the articles of clothing that had been brought to you.

And another.

The few pieces leading to your bedroom door that was only a few doors down. Not the longest walk from the bathroom, but- Knowing the way these men you resided with now liked to randomly appear, wasn’t helping your case. But you also couldn’t stand just hanging around naked. Letting out a defeated sigh, you briskly make your way down the hall. Snatching up the articles of clothing as you do, and make your way into your room without missing a beat. Letting out a sigh of relief as he lean back against the door. Closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself. The last few hours you had been here was already turning out to be much more than you had even experienced on your first day at the previous coven.

Too much.

But finally looking forward to some rest, you open your eyes and make your way to your bed. Just to now see the last article of your missing pajamas laid out in the middle of your bed. Deliberate.

“I would’ve lead you up to my room but…Didn’t feel like risking it with the rest of the coven around.”

You hear Heeseung’s voice, turning around to see- Nothing of course. It’s then that suddenly your towel is yanked from around you. Letting out a small scream as you turn to see Heeseung now sitting in the middle of your bed, tossing your towel over his shoulder. His hands now reaching to grab you around your waist, and pull you onto the bed with him.

Except.

He’s not on top of you.

He’s laying back in your bed, now holding your naked body to straddle him. Your arms immediately moving to wrap over your chest.

“Oh, I’ve already seen it all, you might as well just let me look.” He teases and you’re glaring away from him. “Now you can’t be that mad…I can smell it on you…The excitement…”

He says as his hands slowly play up and down along your thighs. Not nearly gripping you as much as he was before. Instead, he’s slowly rolling his hips up. Making you gnaw at the inside of your cheek at the sensation. His girth trapped against the cotton of the sweatpants, rubbing against your pussy. He was already hard. You weren’t completely dry yet from your bath but something else was definitely soaking his sweats now.

Why?

Why was your body still doing this?

“You enjoyed it didn’t you? You can’t even lie…” He says as his hips finally stop, a hand now coming up to take ahold of your chin, now forcing you to look at him. Instead you slam your eyes shut, refusing. He chuckles. “You want to know why you’re still so aroused? I’ll tell you.”

Whether he was trying to coax your eyes open with the information or not, you didn’t care. He could tell you or he couldn’t, either way you weren’t giving him the satisfaction of eye contact.

“They told you about our saliva didn’t they? The drug-like affect it has?” He starts. “Well, you’ve had your fair share of it tonight, love. So your body’s gonna betray you until the morning.”

“Then I’ll just sleep- Just leave and let me sleep it off.” You protest and he’s cooing.

“Now that’d be a waste. I can help you sleep just like this…” He starts, the hand that was on your thigh moving up further to play his thumb in circles closer to your groin. “If you’re worried about me trying to fuck you, I won’t. You’d be useless to everyone if I did something that careless…But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun.”

“What do you want with me Heeseung…?” You whine in a defeated tone. Too tired to argue with the vampire knowing well enough it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“I want to finish what I started…Pleasing that pretty cunt of yours.” He whispers, now carrying his lips over to grace them along the skin of your neck. “I won’t even feed if you don’t want me too.”

The more and more he spoke unfortunately the more he began to remind of one of the vampires from the other coven. The select ones that only seemed to crave pleasure without the sadistic or masochistic desires in play.

“Stop thinking about them when I’m making you an offer-“ Heeseung suddenly growls against your ear. “Or do you like it when they’re rough with you~?”

“J-just…Tell me what you want to do exactly.” You say with a swallow and you can practically sense the smile against his lips as he begin to press kisses to your neck.

“Exactly? Okay.” His voice is soft, almost a whisper as his lips dance against your skin. “I want to play with you.” He starts. “Your cunt. I want you to feel my fingers inside you, and make your thighs tremble around me.”

You suck in a sharp breath, not just at his words, but the feeling of his hands ghosting down your naked sides.

“Then I want to put that pretty pussy of yours on my cock. Straddle those lips over me and just tease your clit until you’re a mess.” His low words are almost breathless it seems. You could tell he was excited. “I want you to cum all over me, y/n.”

Your body shivers again and there’s an audible moan coming from him that his him bucking his hips up into you. His hands that were ghosting over your skin, now gripping your hips as he’s biting at your neck. Not piercing the flesh but just enough for the pleasure of the sensation.

“Tell me yes. Tell me you want it.”

He’s not asking and that clear enough to tell. Your arms that were covering your chest now coming down to rest over his hands he had braced against your hips. Now going to move one of his hands between your thighs. You feel him smile against your skin again before there’s a tongue licking a wet stripe along your neck. His hand dipping completely between your thighs now to gently circle two fingers over your clit.

“F-Fu…Ah…”

“It feels good, doesn’t it? When someone else touches you down there, I know your body loves it.” He hums out, not massaging your clit for much longer before he’s circling a finger inside of you.

Moving his own the same way he had used yours not too long ago. Of course you were so wet, it went in with ease. But his finger was of course bigger than yours, and the sensation was definitely different. Not new, but different. There’s quiet moans leaving your lips as he’s working the single finger in and out of you. Seemingly considerate of how well you’re adjusting before he’s slipping in another. It elicited a wince from you, but he moves slowly. Pressing them into you as deep as he can and letting them settle inside you. Your walls clenching and unclenching around him as he sucks a trail of hickies along your neck that you know you won’t hear the end of about tomorrow.

“Want me to keep moving~?” He teases and you only rock your hips in response, and he complies almost immediately. Pumping both his fingers inside of you.

A lot like he had used yours. This time getting moans much louder out of your lips. His kisses and little love bites ceasing as he’s now feasting on the gaze of your expressions. Breathless chuckles slipping past his lips as he watches you with the most amused smile. He was panting? Moaning? Something along those lines- As he was more than excited just at the scene of you, in his lap, being worked by his fingers. It wasn’t much longer after indulging himself in the moment for a while, that he’s pulling his fingers away from you, and plopping himself onto his back, giving you a fanged grin.

“You know what I want now right?” He bites his lip now, hands moving back to your hips as he begin to grind his erection against you. Moaning almost immediately as he lets his eyes fall closed.

It felt so strange…Good but- Strange to be giving in to it all. Unlike with the other coven, despite their advances being similar to Heeseung’s. Offering to be somewhat tame, and acting on a well, certain level of consent. But you couldn’t deny it, despite your tired body having already gone through four of the other vampires…It felt good. So now you move your hands down to brace against the others abdomen, and roll your hips to match his pace.

He’s moaning a lot louder now.

Hands gripping on your waist as he's rolling his hips more feverishly. Your soaking cunt straddling his trapped cock as you moved your hips to more or less ride him. Grinding your pussy back and forth over his clothed girth. And it’s while the two of your are like that, he’s moving his hands away from you. Further down so that he’s now pushing down his sweatpants and his boxers. Your body moving accordingly after realizing what he’s doing, letting him slide his cock out for you to straddle.

“Don’t put it in-“ He orders, gripping your thigh. “Remember. Keep rubbing your pretty cunt on me just like you were. I wanna ruin that sweet little clit of yours.”

His words make you shiver, an audible whimper escaping your lips, and he’s pulling your hips back forward. Planting your wet lips back on his length, he’s licking his own. His body rolling to match your pace. Shaky exhales escaping your lips with each wet glide of friction. You’d never done anything quite like this before and with Heeseung’s red hues on you…It was driving you crazy.

“Faster.”

He says simply and your hips are doing just that.

Your hands decide to move on their own.

Sliding up along the others front, before you’re slowly dragging your nails down his covered chest. A breathless chuckle escaping his lips after letting out a very pleased groan.

“Feels good doesn’t it, slut? My cock? Just smothering your cute little cunt.” He bites his lips as he watched the way your thighs tremble suddenly, a vulgar moan escaping your throat. “Oh you like that? Being my slut? Giving me your cunt like this? Yeah?”

Your hips begin to move more wildly. Pathetic noises escaping your lips as his breathing begins to quicken.

“God, you’re pussy is starving…fat fucking lips on my cock.” He groans, practically a growl as ravenous red hues stared down and the messy wet scene you two were making.

That might have been it for you. You know the effects were most definitely from the components that was in their saliva- But there was something about his voice. Something about the mere fact that it was his voice, you felt. Like happy little hums dancing around your arousal. The more he continued to speak, as filthy as it was, you couldn’t handle it with the sensation running between your legs. You can feel it building up, closer and closer until finally- You’re bucking your hips wildly, letting out a cry as you’re juicing all over his cock. Eventually the sloppy pace slipping his cock from the right position between your folds.

But he hasn’t cum yet. He was definitely close so it wouldn’t take much more. But before you can move yourself, he’s re-positioning you already to press his cock to your sensitive clit, making you tremble. This time holding you still, rocking your hips with his own as he rolls them up in a frantic pace. Fucking against you without any hesitance.

A choked out cry comes from you, your hands gripping his wrists as you fail to regulate your breathing. It was too much. Way too much. But so fucking delicious. You wanted the vampire underneath you to leave you completely brainless. You wanted him to tease you until you passed out, and repeat.

“Say my name.” He grunts out, that desperate haze clouding his expression. He’s so close. It’s right there and now you know what he needs.

“H-Heeseung…Heeseung~…!”

“M-more…”

“H-Heeseung~!”

You tilt your head back with a desperate whine,now bouncing slightly against his cock and he’s right fucking there. Head throwing back into the pillow as he’s spilling his load all over the both of you and some of his clothes. Your bodies trembling and the two of you huffing as you let out shaky breathes trying to calm yourselves.

Eventually your body collapses on top of his, and there’s a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips. His arm coming around your waist as the other comes up to play through your damp locks.

“Get yourself a good nap…Because I’m not done with you yet….”

[soongyeopsal]

Give Me 20

Summary: If Mingyu learns anything from this experience, it’s that you have 2 ears and 1 mouth because you’re supposed to listen more than you speak. Or something like that.

▸ Pairing: Mingyu x NB!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+, pwp, smut, established relationship

▸ Warnings: oral (m! receiving)

▸ Word Count: 1.2k

▸ A/N: It’s summer! I got my hat on backwards and it’s fuckin time to party. 🎉🧢 @shuadotcom is serving a lifetime sentence as my beta - thank you! <3 Stoked to be participating in KBCS’s Bon Voyage Bingo event! Prompt: 40 - “I’m sunburnt and dying, so you have to be nice to me.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

One thing about Mingyu? He’s stunning - particularly when he’s stripped down to just his swim trunks and the warm undertones of his skin make him glow in the summer sun. Another thing about Mingyu? The man doesn’t listen - particularly when he’s with his friends and they play hackysack with a single brain cell. 

You’ve finished your drink, the plot of the book you’ve been reading has reached a lull, and it’s been long enough that the gentle beachy breeze isn’t all that cooling anymore. Your beachside day with your boyfriend (and 12 plus 1s) has definitely peaked, but you can think of a much more relaxing way to occupy your time as Mingyu sprints across the sand to your shaded chair during a long-awaited break from the longest game of volleyball you’ve ever witnessed.

“Hey handsome,” you greet weakly, squinting up at Mingyu as he unsuccessfully tries to crowd himself under your umbrella. “Ready to go?” Mingyu smiles sheepishly, hands already clasped together pleadingly as you groan at his body language. “Just a few more rounds, I promise. Please?” “You said that like an hour ago!”

“I know, babe, but we’re playing to see who pays for dinner!” he explains. “And my team is winning!”

You look up at Mingyu over your sunglasses knowingly. “Mingyu, this is an all-inclusive resort. Dinner’s included. Besides, I’ve got something for you to win right here."You spread your legs just a little in your lounge chair, just enough for Mingyu to see. His expression is unreadable save for a puppy-like spark in his eyes.

But alas, even the promise of sex can’t pry Mingyu away from his single-minded shenanigans. The two of you crane your necks when someone yells in the distance to see Jeonghan and Soonyoung slowly burying Chan in the center of the volleyball court. “Gimme 20 minutes, I swe–sshh, I swear! I’ll meet you in the room.”

“20 minutes and that’s it?” “That’s it, scout’s honor! You can sip on something nice, run a li’l bath,” Mingyu offers, hips swaying suggestively for extra effect. “Slip into something….comfortable?”

Annoyed as you want to be about having to wait, you just can’t stay mad at him. You feign a loud sigh. “Fiiine. 20 minutes, though! Pinky promise?” “Pinky promise!” Mingyu’s invisible tail is practically wagging already. When you reach up to lock pinkies, though, someone calls for “Mingyu-hyung” and your boyfriend hastily fistbumps you instead. “Coming!” he calls back, turning on his heel with one last “love you” as you sigh for real this time.

“Mingyu! At least put on some more sunscreen! You’re kinda red!” you call after him.

Mingyu calls back, though somewhat absently, “Sunscreen, got it!”

You roll your eyes, body lazily stretching as you prepare to gather your things and return to your shared room. “Ok then, we’ll see.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

An entire 40 minutes later, you hear Mingyu grunt his way through the door. You’re already showered and dressed in pajamas, playing a word game on your phone. “Y/N,” he cries pitifully, “I’m dying! Looook!” 

You keep your eyes trained on the screen, tone indifferent but just icy enough to let him know he’s in trouble. “It’s been 40 minutes, Gyu.”

Mingyu goes to sit on the edge of the bed, but you swat him away, citing “no outside clothes on the bed”. He stands back up, but shuffles in place pathetically, clearly wanting to be babied. “I know, babe, I’m sorry! I swear I was going to come right up, but we were trying to do something about my sunburn first.” When you finally do look at Mingyu, you see that your adonis has become more of a lobster. He’s terribly sunburned on his chest and back with his shoulders being especially burned like deep red pauldrons atop his typically golden shade. Hissing, you sit up to get a closer look. “Oh, Gyu, that looks pretty nasty.” 

Satisfied with your response, Mingyu wails and continues his performance. “And it is! It hurts so bad I don’t know what to do!”

Just as you’re about to search your bag for aloe, you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend before his late arrival. “Did you at least start with more sunscreen like I said?”

Mingyu looks at you and you look at him and he keeps looking at you and you point at him accusingly. “You didn’t! Mingyu, what did I say?” The man only gets whinier now that he’s riled you up, grabbing your hand and kissing it mournfully in hopes that it’ll lessen your fussing (it doesn’t). “I know, I know,” Mingyu gripes between kisses. “I was going to and just lost track of time.”

Snatching your hand away dramatically, you scold him. “You sure did! And you got what you deserved!”

Mingyu gingerly perches on the edge of one of the room’s bistro chairs and puts on his biggest pout. “Yeah, I did. Haven’t I suffered enough, baby?”

For what it’s worth, Mingyu genuinely does look pained. You’ve never seen him with sunburn this bad and it’s clear that the travel-sized bottle of obligatory aloe in your vacation bag won’t be enough to soothe him. Seeing your boyfriend in such a delicate state pulls at your heartstrings even though the petty part of you wants to keep saying “I told you so”. “Yeah,” you agree finally, crossing the room to stand in front of him and carefully place his hands on your hips. “I suppose you have. Want me to make you feel better?” Suddenly Mingyu’s patheticness visibly decreases just a little, invisible tail wagging again. “You gonna soothe me?” You grin in response, sinking to your knees as you tug on the hem of his trunks, urging your boyfriend to lift his hips enough to slide them down to his thighs. Mingyu huffs with the effort, but settles quickly on the edge of the chair once more as he places a gentle hand on your head expectantly.

Yet another thing about Mingyu? What he lacks in punctuality, he makes up for with general predictability. It only takes a minute or two of pumping to grow his dick from a modest half chub to an intimidating full mast. You waste no time fitting your mouth over the swollen head of his cock and are rewarded with a contended exhale as Mingyu genty scratches the top of your head appreciatively. 

The two of you fall into a familiar rhythm of you bobbing your head and Mingyu thrusting into your mouth shallowly. The angle’s a little off because he can’t position himself the way he wants to, but your talents have him worked up all the same. Mingyu’s pre hits your tongue with each bob now, coating your tongue with a preview of what’s to come. His pace is getting sloppier and the pads of his fingers are pressing into your scalp insistently now. You can hear him whimpering praises above you, the obscene sounds of your slurping a fitting soundtrack for how prettily he cries from your ministrations. 

Just as suddenly as you forgave Mingyu, you’re punishing him again, pulling away from his grasp with a ‘pop’ and leaving his cock upright in the cold hotel air.

You can tell from his voice that Mingyu’s next sentence was going to be another moan. “Y/N~ I’m sunburnt and dying, so you have to be nice to me!”

“Have to?” Even without looking at him as you stand, you know Mingyu’s internally flinching at your warning tone.

“Please?” he corrects.

“Aww, Gyu. But you’re sunburnt and dying. You shouldn’t strain yourself. I’ll check on you in 40 minutes. Sound good?”

[jeridandridge]

Beach Day

Reader meets some of Melissa’s family during a trip to the beach.

My grasp of Italian is very limited as you’ll see 😅

“Are you sure you’re up for this, hon?”

You chuckle as you finish packing up the cooler for the day.

“Baby, if I didn’t feel like going I wouldn’t go. You’re more nervous than I am.”

Melissa huffs leaning against the truck, you two already in your bathing suits under your clothes for a day at the beach with her family. You’d met a cousin or two, but not almost the entire family. Even nonna was excited to spend a day in the sun.

You walk over to your girlfriend resting your hands on her hips. “It’s gonna be a great day, okay? I’m so excited to meet the people that raised such an amazing person.” You beam.

Melissa smiles cupping your cheeks with her hands bringing you in for a soft kiss.

“The last time I brought someone around it was Joe and they didn’t like him at all. I married him anyway and they ended up being right.” She explains.

You shake your head gently giving her hip a squeeze. “Parents love me. I’ll show you.”

An hour later you find yourself wheeling the cooler down the cement path to the sand, Schmmenti family in sight. You spot Melissa’s cousin Joey kicking a soccer ball around with his son and a bunch of other relatives seated on a picnic bench.

“Hey there they are!” A guy you recognize as Melissa’s uncle Tommy waves them over.

You smile when you see Melissa relax a bit, you two walk through the sand and grass getting to the table where she playfully shoves her cousin off when he goes to give her a hug.

“So you finally brought the woman you never shut up about!” Uncle Tommy teases her.

“Yeah yeah, don’t make it weird. This is y/n.” She smiles at you as you give a little wave.

“I already know this guy.” You playfully groan pointing at Joey getting everyone else to laugh. You look around the rest of the group nodding at each one naming off another aunt, cousin, niece, and finally, Melissa’s grandmother who’s happily lounging in a folding chair.

She has her dark hair piled up on her head much like Melissa wears hers and has kind brown eyes you’re shocked at how young she seems chalking it up to years of good food and company.

As the group disperses Melissa takes your hand walking you over to the older woman.

“nonna questa è la mia ragazza.” She smiles. You learned a little bit of Italian, and picked up a few words.

“Oh, Cara ragazza, she’s a pretty one.” The woman smiles standing up and kissing both of your cheeks.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mel’s told me so much about you.” You beam keeping your fingers laced with your girlfriends.

“Ditto, y/n. Welcome.” She smiles reaching out to squeeze your upper arm.

Your smile only grows when nonna takes her seat again and Melissa looks at you with almost watery eyes.

“Why don’t you go show off and kick joeys ass.” She nods to the sand where the guys are playing soccer.

You smirk and lean in kissing her cheek before you leave your shirt and flip flops near the cooler taking off in your bikini top and Jean shorts.

Melissa smiles sitting next to her grandmother on the lawn chair. As you run around with the guys giving joeys son a high five when he scores a goal Melissa’s smile widens.

“I like her.” Nonna nods in your direction, laughing when you fake Uncle Tommy out with the ball.

“She’s amazing.” Melissa smiles dreamily in your direction as you jog back over with a breathless laugh.

“Baby, do you have the keys? I forgot Anthony’s body board in the back.” You explain as the young boy bolts towards you. She fishes the keys out of her bag handing them to the excited pre teen.

“You only use that thing when your dads around, capeesh? Y/N heard you like surfing and insisted on one of those for today.” She smiles.

Anthony nods eagerly buzzing as he runs towards the truck.

“You need more sunblock, Mel.” You hum seeing her shoulders already a light shade of pink.

Nonna shoots her granddaughter a knowing look as you get the sunscreen from the bag, a look that says you had her approval.

[thrashkink-coven]

Answering FAQs I get ab Lucifer and I

1. Are you godspoused?

A: Nope! Lucifer and I’s relationship might emulate some elements of god spousal, but the “label” I would use for our relationship is “devoted”. In the same way that people can have intimate relationships with their friends, I happen to have an intimate relationship with Lucifer. But I wouldn’t consider him to be my boyfriend or husband, for some reason the concept of that feels odd to me.

2. Does your irl partner know about your relationship with Lucifer?

A: Lol look at our room. Yes. It was my bf who got me my Lucifer ring :)) my bf is not a pagan but she is finds the whole thing interesting. My bf likes to hear about what I’m up to with Lucifer, and Lucifer absolutely adores hearing about my partner.

3. When did you first start seeing Lucifer intimately?

A: Probably about a year or so into our working relationship. I already did sex magic and things of the sort so he kinda just helped out. I immediately felt very connected and familiar with him when we first started working together. Over time we just got closer.

4. Have Lucifer and you ever argued?

A: Lucifer is very difficult to argue with because he’s really great at diffusing aggression and he loves to debate. He doesn’t back away from confrontation. Have we disagreed? Constantly. He loves to challenge me, even if only to test my convictions. But I wouldn’t say we’ve ever really “argued”. I don’t think he’s ever done anything that made me hold a grudge against him. There have only been like extremely minor instances of him crossing a boundary and he apologized profusely.

5. Does Lucifer get mad if you forget to give offerings?

A: I didn’t approach Lucifer looking for a deal or outcome, we have a contract but not a transactional one, so I’m not really “obligated” to give him offerings just like he’s not obligated to give me anything… because we didn’t make a business deal. If you approach a demon and ask for a promotion at work then you’ll probably be obligated to hold up whatever your end of the deal was. I kinda just… wanted to get to know Lucifer so that didn’t really apply.

Lucifer doesn’t particularly demand offerings, he makes requests but that’s only because he knows I like giving offerings. He has never gotten mad at me for not giving him things.

6: What are Lucifer’s pet peeves?

A: Hypocrisy and lack of accountability. If you’re not willing to admit you’re wrong sometimes you’re never going to be willing to learn better.

7. How do you start seeing a deity romantically or intimately?

A: 🤷‍♂️ idk. I didn’t really plan to get swept up by Lucifer it kinda just happened. one day a god went “I like this one I think I’ll keep him” and I’ve been winning ever since.

8. What does Lucifer look like to you?

A: Gorgeous 💕. no but to be real Lucifer doesn’t always appear to me as a human (serpent Lucifer has been v prevalent lately, that’s really cool). oftentimes he appears as a twinkling light or a place like a garden or river. When he does appear humanoid he usually has long, curly, gold or black hair depending on whether he’s the morning or the evening star. He’s always illuminated as if he’s standing in front of the sun. Sunlight shines through his hair. Similarly his eyes are either blue, or red depending. They’re sharp and intense like smouldering coals. He’s had many different shades of skin, and he usually appears male aligned with some feminine traits. He’s built strong. There have been occasions in dreams where he’s carried me around in one arm. If ever he has wings they are pearl white, six in total. He can be the size of a regular human or massive like a planet. If he’s wearing clothes he usually wears robes or very loose fitting fabrics, lots of jewelry. It sometimes appears like he’s wearing makeup. He likes to look elegant.

Here are a couple pics I found that kinda emulate him:

It’s also worth noting that my Lucifer’s appearance is definitely most probably highly informed by my human partner. Their hair and facial features are somewhat similar.

9. Has Lucifer ever scared you?

A: Honestly yes, not in the way that I thought I was in any danger, but I’ve seen how terrifying he can be. He’s never directed any aggression towards me, but I’ve seen him in his more warlike archetypes and I understand why he is often considered to be the King or Emperor of Hell. I’ve seen him get extremely protective and vengeful, which is a hard contrast to his usually very chillaxed vibe. The thing about Lucifer is that he doesn’t rage, he stews and simmers and festers and plots until he knows exactly how to destroy you.

10. What’s your favourite thing about Lucifer?

A: His patience and leadership. Dude is just so fucking good at explaining things and guiding you through concepts. Physically I would say his voice. His voice comes in this very low hum that’s just delicious to listen to, especially when he’s singing. like a really nice bass guitar. He also smells very great.

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Slow Heat

SSA Matt Simmons x female reader

Rating: explicit - minors DNI

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: After wanting Matt for so long, what will you do when you finally get him?

Warnings: smut! - mentioned masturbation - oral sex (m receiving) - unprotected sex - multiple orgasms - canon divergence

A/N: this is set in an AU where he is divorced - there is a horrible lack of Matt smut and I don't think I would do justice to the husband/wife vibe but didn't want to make him a cheater

“Morning Matt,” you said cheerily as he entered the office. “Good morning,” he replied tersely, juggling his bag and a cup of coffee. He hadn’t been the same since telling everyone about the divorce. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through, trying to get used to his new reality, and learning to coparent with that many kids. 

A small, awful part of you was secretly glad he was getting divorced. It made the way you felt about him, and had felt ever since you met, a little more acceptable. Married man = giant no in your book. Divorced man = okay to fantasize about, which you did more often than was probably normal. There was also the small fact that you worked together. Sure, you worked in tech, it’s not like you went out in the field with the team, but they still treated you like one of their own - probably thanks to your friendship with Garcia. Office romances hardly ever worked out. Still…you couldn’t help but watch him every time he walked past, your heart skipping a beat when he smiled at you. 

Wanting to be respectful to what he was going through, you kept all your feelings to yourself. It was so hard when all you wanted to do was spend one night with him, showing him how eager you were to please him. Instead, you just ended up pleasing yourself while thinking about what he must look like underneath his clothes. It went on like that for months, you lusting after him from the sidelines, until one night after a particularly bad case.

The team had returned to the office, looks of defeat and anger plainly written on their faces. You just happened to still be there, finishing up a last-minute assignment. Your heart sank when you looked up at them getting off the elevator. “Oh no, what happened?” you asked, concerned. “The perp got away,” Rossi replied, shaking his head. “Damn, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. “We’re going to go get a drink, need to shake this off. Do you want to join us?” he asked. “Sure, why not,” you replied, happy for the break. You were stiff and sore from sitting in a chair all day. 

Everyone grabbed their things, and you walked around the block to the nearby tavern. Thanks to Penelope switching seats with you - after a less than subtle wink and shoulder nudge - you ended up sitting next to Matt. At first you were extremely nervous, but you were surprised to find that talking to him came easily. The conversation stayed steady, both of you talking about your families, hobbies, favorite movies, everything. The others slowly began to say their goodbyes, and before long you realized it was just the two of you left. 

“Oh wow, I guess I need to get back home,” you said, looking at the time on your phone. “I’ll go with you, make sure you get there okay,” Matt offered with a smile. “You really don’t have to, it’s not like either of us drank that much,” you replied. And it was true, you switched to coke after a few shots, and he had been sipping the same beer all night. “Really, I insist,” he told you. Pretty sure that your face had turned several unflattering shades of red, you relented, grabbing your purse. The walk back to the office to get his car as well as the ride back to your apartment, were filled with awkward silence. What happened to the way you had been at the bar?

Pulling into the parking lot, he offered to walk you to the door. You took him up on it, not knowing what would come next. Standing at your doorway, you looked at him, wishing the night wasn’t over. “Want to come in for some coffee?” you asked, holding your breath until he replied. “Sure,” he said, and you unlocked your door with trembling hands. Throwing your bag down on the counter, you picked up two coffee mugs and were about to begin making the first one when Matt walked up behind you. 

Standing so close you could feel the heat coming off of his body, smell the cologne he was wearing, you resisted the urge to lean back against him. Instead, you stiffened, unsure of what to do or say. Suddenly you felt his hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. Looking up at him questioningly, his face so close to yours, you gasped as he ran his hand gently across your jawline, sending sparks through your body. “Matt, what are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, your body on edge just from that little bit of contact. Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed you slowly and sweetly. “I think we could both use this, don’t you?” he asked, moving his body even closer to you. It was true, it had been a long time since anything but your vibrator had brought you to paradise.

“If you had any idea of how many times I had fantasized about this, you wouldn’t even have to ask,” you replied in a surprising burst of boldness. Never in your wildest dreams did you think any of this would actually be happening. He growled at your response and moved in to kiss you again, this time fast and hard. His hands roamed your body slowly in contrast, exploring every inch of you. 

Dragging him into your bedroom, you pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. Holy shit you thought, running your hands over his muscled abs, practically drooling at the sight of him. Pushing him back onto the bed, you undid his belt and removed his pants. He was already hard, and just the outline of him straining against his boxers had you practically dripping. You kissed and licked a slow trail down his perfect body, working your way down to what you wanted most. Your eyes widened when you freed his dick from his underwear and the smirk on his face made you want to climb on him right that second, but you somehow controlled yourself, deciding to make this last as long as possible. 

Taking him in your mouth, you flattened your tongue and ran it up and down his shaft while sucking gently, and he groaned deeply in appreciation. One hand around his base and the other gripping his muscular thigh, you worked your magic on him, bringing him right to the edge before he pushed you back, not wanting to finish too soon. 

Eagerly shedding your clothes, you rejoined him on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck, raising goosebumps all over. Going lower, he cupped your breasts, wrapping his lips around one hardened nipple while gently massaging the other. Moaning, feeling like your body would ignite at any moment, you almost jumped off the bed when he reached a hand down and ran his fingers through your slick folds. 

“Damn, you really did want this, didn’t you?” he grinned, feeling just how excited you were for him. All you could do was groan his name as he dragged his fingers through your walls, hitting that sweet spot that you always had trouble finding yourself. Two fingers worked inside you while his thumb made sweet circles on your clit. You looked up at him, his already dark eyes almost black, clouded with lust. It was enough, just knowing you were the cause of that look of absolute desire on his face, to push you over the edge. You climaxed, thighs trembling against his hand. 

Giving yourself no time to ride out your high, you pushed him back against the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. “Oh my God,” he grunted, a look of absolute devotion on his face as you lowered yourself down onto him slowly. 

The stretch and slight burn went away quickly as you adjusted to his size, and you found a steady pace. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, and you ground down on him eagerly. Who knew sex could feel this good you thought to yourself. After all the months of longing for Matt, this was actually happening. He moved his hands up to grasp your breasts, bringing you back to reality. You rolled your hips even harder and faster, that invisible coil in your belly growing tighter, threatening to snap again. Your nails digging crescent shaped marks into his chest, you felt your second orgasm sweep through you. Squeezing down around him as you continued to ride him, Matt groaned your name as he also found release. Collapsing against him on the bed, your sweat slicked bodies sticking together, you sighed contentedly. Slowly tracing the tattoo on his bicep, he asked if you were okay. “Of course. I told you; I’ve wanted that for a long time now,” you replied. He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“You know, for a profiler you really missed all the signs, didn’t you?” you said with a laugh.

[jimothy-hopkins]

So when I said o was taking a break from doing ref sheets I lied yall sorry. Have my new favorite OC I made less than a day ago!

Info about Abigail!

General Description:

Abigail stands at 5’0 with a thin build. She has a strong jawline and cheekbones. Her eyes are a vibrant shade of blue, that some find scary to look at. Abigail has wavy dark blonde hair with highlights bleached into it. Abigail wears layered clothing and tennis shoes, enjoying a simple style that she feels comfortable in.

Abigail exhibits a lot of social anxiety due to her autism. She has only recently gotten her diagnosis, and doesn’t know how to mask or properly regulate her emotions. This is one of the reasons she likes to keep to herself. There’s no pressure to socialize. Abigail would love to make friends, but has been discouraged to do that thanks to bullying in her younger years and how other students treat her at Bullworth. She is anxious when speaking, and fidgets as a way to soothe herself. In situations where Abigail feels threatened, she is likely to shut down. Behind her awkward surface, Abigail is an incredibly empathetic person, and wants to see the best in people. She is a loyal friend and a loving person.

Interests and whatnot:

Abigail loves to draw and make art. After school she will spend hours in the art studio with Ms. Philips working on pieces and projects she’s made. Art is one of the few ways Abigail has learned to cope with extreme emotions. She enjoys pairing colors and expanding on her ideas visually.

Abigail loves animals, mostly cats. Abigail has a few cats of her own, and frequently helps out the feral and stray populations in Bullworth. She has two cats of her own. They are two orange tabbies named Beaker and Gouda.

Collecting LPS is one of Abigail’s hobbies. She enjoys having them because they remind her of being a kid. She never remembered much of her childhood due to how chaotic her home life was at that time. LPS comfort her in a way and bring her happiness.

Abigail also enjoys watching movies, especially comedies. Her favorite movies are White Chicks, Heathers, and All Dogs Go To Heaven. Abigail likes animated movies as well, since she’d replay some VCR tapes so much that they’d burn out.

Reputation:

Abigail is afraid of the jocks. She knows they hardly get a consequence because of their hold on the school hierarchy. She does her best to stay away from them, but is frequently teased for being awkward and quiet.

The greasers don’t tend to bother Abigail. She is friends with Kate Valenti since they share some of the same interests. Abigail doesn’t hang out with the clique though, Johnny and the others intimidate her.

The preps don’t really care for Abigail. They thinks she’s weird and want nothing to do with her. Although, some members are a bit more empathetic towards her.

Abigail is relentlessly targeted by the bullies. This is why she is prone to shutting down. Everything she does in front of them is mocked. They have made her self esteem crumble, and she’s even embarrassed to talk about any of her interests because of them.

The nerds don’t really cause a problem with Abigail. They usually don’t interact outside of class. Sometimes she’s forced to listen to them rant about GnG.

BONUS: Abigail is favored by the prefects. She will run errands for them and tattle when she sees something bad happening. She stays close to the prefects on their patrols because she knows students won’t bother her when she’s near them. In a way, she’s friends with them.

Quotes:

“Give that back!”

“What is your problem?! Get away from me!”

“My life is like a Picasso. I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking for.”

“I’m not weird, maybe I just don’t wanna be friends with you cause you’re a jerk.”

“I feel like sometimes I’m the only normal person here.”

“All jocks do is play with balls I don’t understand the hype.”

“I’m gonna go see a movie with Kate. I’ll talk to you later.”

“We’re having an art show this week, if you wanna come and vote for my pieces. They’re not much- but y’know I’d really appreciate it if you did that.”

“Justin looks like Shrek in a derogatory way.”

“Those townies look like victims of DoodleBob.”

“I’m nervous.”

“I just wanna graduate dude please leave me alone before I tell a prefect!”

“Just leave me alone- I don’t want anything to do with anybody right now!”

“I could go for some dump cake right now. Damn.”

“One time Casey Harris shoved me in a locker so I put mustard in his cleats before a game.”

“Here, I painted a portrait of you. Thanks for being nice to me.”

[elenthyaolyenths]

"Day 4: "Pretty faces, electric souls". – Good Omens (Ineffable Wives)

I've seen the world, lit it up as my stage now

Channelling angels in the new age now

Hot summer days, rock and roll

The way you'd play for me at your show

And all the ways I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul

[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day] - Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours (and a half, for emergency researches) instead of 8-20 on my previous projects

Today's theme chosen by me: I wanted to finally draw our Ineffable Wives – first time ever for me. I indulged in a « The-Great-Gatsby-movie » mood, and an intimate scene as they could have behind the scene. I love the way Aziraphale is trustfully watching Crowley. And I am pretty sure Crowley is blushing a little under this white powder make-up.

More trivia infomations after the cut. Thank you all for your kind words and your wonderful tags! Please, continue to share! I am so happy to see my artworks are appreciated!

Trivia : I had so many clothes, jewels and hair-dressing references for this one. But it was so difficult to do it correctly and I was lacking time, so I had to get a looooot simpler. I think I’ll come back to this one later, once my personal daily challenge is over.

Trivia 2 : I always try to draw them with David Tennant and Michael Sheen physical traits in mind – part of my challenge. But here, that was the first time ever I tried to feminise masculine traits. It felt very weird for me while I was drawing, could not feel satisfied until I smooth and smooth again their nose, their brow and their chin/neck… maybe I overdid. I wanted DT and MS still be recognisable as women here, I think I’ll do better next time.

Trivia 3: there is blue and grey in Aziraphale’s eyes and Crowley’s jewels. There is gold in Crowley’s eyes and Aziraphale’s jewels. Do what you want with this information, while I am dying of cuteness in my goblin’s corner.

[gaiaseyes451]

7 Days, 700 Words - Storm Break - 6/7

Storm Break (new part in blue)

The patter of rain on the clay shingled roof interrupts our peace. Soft and languid a moment ago, your breath quickens; the crackle of the fire in the hearth a foreshock of the quake amassing in the slate gray clouds. Yet it is I who flinches when lightning flashes, casting the cottage sitting room into sharp relief. Too bright, too cold, too familiar.

Our fingers intertwine and reflexively I curl beside you. Whether it is to soothe my own anxiety or bolster your resolve matters not; you pressed against me, cheek resting in my curls, is a balm all the same.

I count silently, one…two…three… anticipating the sound that follows the fury. Thunder cracks, rattling the glass so droplets spill like tears down window pane cheeks. Through the tempest the unseen sun sets in the churning sky, violet and gold and vermilion glowing on the horizon. There is so much beauty in this world—once our ward, now made home—even in the storms.

But your vision is shuttered, goldenrod irises barricaded against the aftershock of memories of more insidious foes. I run my fingers through your hair and conjure the first storm we weathered, sheltered together as the rain fell over Eden. 

Poor protection though they were, we huddled together as the cold drops beaded on  my wings and ran off in steady rivulets, watching the world change around us. I remember the heat of the sun warmed stones beneath our feet, the whip of the wind against my robes and through your hair. 

But most of all, I remember the colors. In the rain soaked light greens were more verdant, reds richer, blues shades of indigo in their saturation. 

Your eyes, a soul suspended in amber, beside me.

“Do you remember Eden,” I murmur against your temple, “after the first rain?”

You look at me, the same golden soul, no less cherished for finally being mine, and smile. “I do.” 

I stand, our fingers still interlaced, and together we journey toward the garden and into the storm. I leave you on the patio, behind the curtain falling from the eaves, and step into the rain soaked grass to spread my wings. 

Before I can call you are beside me, glistening ebony wings perched carefully overhead 

“The scent of it,” you sigh, darker thoughts replaced by the breath of this moment. “Of dirt and petrichor, flowers and fruit. Life and Earth. You.”

We stand here, vulnerable and exposed, clothes dripping, sodden ground cold beneath our feet. We could turn, return inside, the breeze having whisked away the last remnants of our unease. 

Instead, we stay. 

This is precisely where we belong. We dwell in the cottage, but it is not our shelter. Its walls offer protection, but it is not our refuge.

The rain replenishes the silver necklace streams that adorn the land. The storm breaks the heat of long summer days and nourishes the jasmine that perfumes humid nights. It cleanses souls and slakes thirsts.

We need not fear the rain.

We did not seek refuge on wooden boats as the seas rose and the sky fell. Our safety was not heralded by a dove and olive branch. The ribbon of color bursting across a brilliant blue sky proclaims the magnificence of physics, not a miracle of faith. 

Troubles will always follow and we will surely fret and worry. Until the time the rain comes—as gale or shower, storm or drizzle—and washes our troubles away. The rain falls over everything. Even us. We shall always emerge from it, renewed and reborn, on our side.

We have learned to welcome the storm.

****

The prompt was provided by @crowleysgirl56 and comes from the poem Troubles Follow by @lickthecowhappy . The stanza used as the prompt:

but a cottage near the / sea cannot shelter / from every storm / as rain falls / over all

I’ll write and share 100(ish) words every day until the ficlet resolves at 700 words.

Got a prompt you want me to use next time? Add a comment below! Want to be on a tag list? Follow #Storm Break or comment below. Feel free to adopt this idea yourself! If you do, tag me and I will give you a prompt!

[s4tvrnsays]

AU Development: Wardrobe

As someone who’s obsessed with drawing characters in cute clothes, one thing i love abt character design is showing a character’s arc through the things they wear.

In my au, the main three (elodie, marinette, and adrien) all go through varying levels of wardrobe changes, either in simply color or a full 180 in style.

All of them changed after becoming heroes. It taught them something, helped them learn to express themselves, explore who they want to be, or find the confidence to show the side they hid from sight. All three, by the end of their journey, find themselves unable to differentiate between their hero persona and their civilian self.

And other than writing, telling a story through visuals is the next best thing.

I’ll start from simplest to most drastic.

Lets start with Élodie.

At first, Élodie would wear exclusively grayscale, with some beiges on occasion. Think about The Wizard of Oz, and how dorothy’s home in Kansas is bathed in grays with no hint of color, to represent the dullness and lifelessness of her life there. Élodie’s wardrobe follows that same idea to an extent. Her self isolation and rejection of others has led to her life becoming much like Kansas, bleak and dull and barren.

Grays were easy. Grays took no thought to put on. Clothes are just that, clothes. Pieces of fabric that don’t have much significance, so why should she care about them?

It is only after she becomes cigognelle that her clothes begin to change with her. Blacks and greys begin mixing with browns of various shades, dark blues start to show up in between, and red accents materialize out of seemingly nowhere, covering her clothes in little patterns. Her clothes begin to carry meaning.

Then, the red overtakes everthing. It covers her sweaters, her rings, her shirts. She sees it in her pencil case, and in the polish she buys. In her leotards and on her cameras, in fabrics and stickers. Her clothes begin to carry meaning. A patterned red and black shirt becomes her go-to shirt to wear on errands. A blue ribbon Marinette gave her somehow showing up wrapped around her camera strap.

That is how we know then that her and cigognelle have become one.

Élodie’s world was thrown into technicolor the moment she wore that caped feather suit.

────────────────────

Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t known for her personal style. Not at first, at least.

Her heavy sweaters and unassuming colors didn’t bring much attention to herself, but she expected that. Her designs are bright and wonderful, but they never felt good enough to make real. And even if she did wear them, the looks people would give her!

But for all that she couldn’t do, Marinette dreamed. She fantasized about being the belle of the ball, rocking to a party wearing something made completely by herself. An original. People would beg her to tell them where she got her outfit, and she’d confidently respond that she made it all.

But her dreams often stayed such. Marinette thought maybe at her new school she might get the chance to finally show off, but as always, nothing changed. She stayed quiet. Stayed unassuming. Stayed hidden.

But Marinette found her solution in a pair of little red earrings.

She could show her true self as ladybug, the mask acting as her shield from the world’s judgement. She can be as loud as she wants, act in whichever way she wanted to, and there’d be no repercussions!

Ladybug showed her how good it feels to let go of all her anxieties and worries, how to have fun with life and live without care.

Soon arinette found herself wearing the little pieces she makes. Headbands and hair clips to school, little charm bracelets, and patches on her backpack and uniform. She wore the dresses she finally had the confidence to actually sew, the bright tights she always wanted to wear, cute scarves she learned to knit!

Being ladybug inspired Marinette to leave day dreams behind by making them her reality.

────────────────────

Lastly, Adrien changing his wardrobe was something everyone expected.

All he knew was decided for him. His hobbies, his friends, his activities, as well as his clothes. Hes used to wearing his father’s creations, the sleek Gabriel brand clothes. Stylish jackets, handsome merino wool turtlenecks, expertly crafted dress shoes, and much more.

His clothes are restricting and stiff, with the exception of one piece. His bright orange sneakers. They’re still Gabriel, but theyre rough and scuffed. His mother convinced his father to make them for him when he turned 14, and he finds himself wearing them more and more since she left. They’re the one thing Adrien himself chose to wear, and its no surprise Gabriel hates them.

Adrien’s wardrobe doesn’t go through a gradual change after he becomes Chat Noir. At most, he buys more jewelry to wear, but nothing more. God knows his father won’t let it pass.

But after finding out the truth about his father’s schemes, adrien goes through a phase that has been long coming. He trashes all his old clothes, and gets new ones. He’d refuse to buy brand new clothes, buying from thrift shops, second hand stores, and even commissions marinette to make him some.

His colors become darker, stronger, and brighter, a contrast from the soft blues and whites he wore before. More of Chat begins to show through, in neon greens, hoodies, and knitted beanies.

He borrows scarves from Marinette, shirts from Nino, necklaces from Élodie, bag charms from Alya, etc.

Adrien Agreste’s switch was a long time coming, and he couldn’t be happier.