#printed cookies boxes

[juliahope]

𝘾𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙢 𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙤𝙭𝙚𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙋𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙏𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨

Enhance your baked goods with our custom cookie boxes. Designed to meet your brand’s specifications, these boxes combine style and practicality, offering a distinctive presentation while keeping your cookies fresh. Perfect for bakeries and special events, our personalized options help your cookies make a lasting impression.

𝐒𝐊𝐔; VPCP13

[tribridpackaging]

Tribrid Packaging 

We at Tribrid have years of experience working with brands across all niches be it beauty, healthcare, tech, etc. Our years of experience combined with the latest cookie boxes printing technology will allow you to get the best design and packaging solutions out there for product boxes wholesale. So what are you waiting for? Book a call or request a quote to get started today.

https://tribridpackaging.com/custom-cookie-boxes/

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[luveline]

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 

“I’m so happy.” 

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 

“What’s the album?” he asks. 

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 

He stills. “They are?” 

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 

“Thank you for the cookie.” 

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 

[wchswift]

ଓ The apple pie life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader Summary: you and Dean are tasked with going undercover as a married couple in a suburban neighborhood to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances linked to a local HOA. Content: fluff, one kiss, angst (kinda), idiots oblivious to their own feelings, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, demons, spells, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 4k a/n: I've been keeping this in my drafts for a while now and while life happens and I work on my dofp!logan one shot, I decided to post this :) I hope you enjoy it

mdni 𖤐 18+

“Yeah, no. This ain’t happening.” Dean Winchester stood at the edge of a freshly mowed lawn, surveying the neighborhood like it was a Hellmouth in disguise. Which, for all they knew, it very well could be. Rows of cookie-cutter houses lined the street, each painted in calming shades of beige, sage, or blue. Even the mailboxes were identical. Dean glared at one as if it had personally offended him.

Sam sighed, arms crossed, watching his brother’s tantrum. “Dean, it’s a neighborhood. Not a death sentence.”

“You’re asking me to pretend to be Mr. Suburbia. Me. You know I don’t do...” Dean gestured vaguely at a garden gnome. “This.”

Standing between the two of them, you held a faux wedding photo that Sam had printed for the cover story. “We’re married. You’re a mechanic. I work from home. We moved here for the good schools. Sound familiar?” you said with a smirk, holding the picture up.

Dean snatched the frame and scowled at the image. “I look like a hostage,” he muttered.

“You always look like that,” you shot back. “Now come on, let’s get unpacked. Our ‘friendly neighborhood welcome committee’ is stopping by in an hour.”

Dean groaned, but there was no backing out. Sam had been adamant: five people had disappeared from this very block in the past six months. The only connection? All were new to the neighborhood, and all had been avid participants in the HOA’s activities.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, hoisting a box from the Impala. “But I’m not calling you ‘honey.”

Dean’s idea of "unpacking" consisted of dumping boxes onto the floor and shoving furniture into place like he was playing Tetris with his life. You trailed behind him, trying to make the house look halfway livable. It wasn't easy; the entire setup resembled a sitcom scenario, complete with ruffled curtains and throw pillows that Sam insisted would help you blend in.

Dean picked up one of the pillows, squinting at the stitched slogan: Home Sweet Home. “This thing screams demon bait,” he muttered, tossing it onto the couch.

“Maybe if you acted like a halfway decent husband, it wouldn’t,” you quipped, earning a low chuckle from Sam.

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean shot back, hauling a box of what appeared to be mismatched kitchen supplies onto the counter. “This is my nightmare, by the way. Thought you should know.”

“It’s not exactly a dream for me either, sweetie,” you replied, stressing the endearment with a sugary grin. Dean’s eye roll could’ve powered the whole neighborhood.

The doorbell chimed just as you finished arranging a vase of fake flowers in the living room. Dean peered through the peephole like he expected to see a mob of demons. Instead, a group of impeccably dressed neighbors smiled back at him.

“Kill me now,” Dean muttered, opening the door.

A blonde woman with a Stepford-wife grin and a clipboard stepped forward. “Hi there! Welcome to the neighborhood! I’m Lana, the HOA president. And these are Sheila and Rick, your next-door neighbors!”

Dean gave his best approximation of a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “Uh, hey. I’m Dean. This is my—uh—wife.”

You plastered on your most winning smile and shook hands all around. “So nice to meet you all!”

Lana’s eyes swept over the living room, clearly appraising your decor. “You’ve done such a lovely job already! Oh, and Dean, we’ll have our weekly HOA meeting at the clubhouse tomorrow night. We expect all new residents to attend. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Dean opened his mouth, likely to come up with an excuse, but you elbowed him. “We’d love to,” you said quickly.

“Wonderful!” Lana chirped. “I’ll leave you with the neighborhood handbook. Everything you need to know is right here.” She handed over a spiral-bound monstrosity of rules and regulations before bustling off with her entourage.

Dean stared at the handbook like it might explode. “Fifty bucks says they’re part of a cult.”

That night, Sam joined you both in the kitchen, where you poured over the HOA handbook. Sam had come by under the guise of helping you move in but was really playing the role of a nosy family friend who conveniently lived a few towns over.

“Okay,” Sam said, flipping through pages. “This is weird. Every house here has to have a specific type of lawn ornament? And look at this—rules about curfew, holiday decorations, even what kind of car you can park in your driveway.”

“Classic control freaks,” Dean muttered, popping open a beer.

“Or something worse,” Sam countered, pointing to a line about mandatory attendance at neighborhood socials. “People start disappearing, and the HOA gets more power over the remaining residents. It seems like they're under some spell… perhaps they made a pact? Maybe with a demon.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So it’s not just bad casseroles we have to survive.”

“We need to hit that meeting tomorrow,” you said. “Whatever’s going on, that’s where we’ll find the first clue.”

The next evening, you and Dean made your way to the HOA meeting at the neighborhood clubhouse, blending in among the perfectly groomed crowd. Everyone was dressed like they were auditioning for a suburban magazine spread: crisp polos, floral blouses, and smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Dean leaned closer to you, muttering, “Tell me this doesn’t feel like a Stepford reboot.”

You elbowed him lightly, smiling for the neighbors. “Try to look like you’re not plotting their demise, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, adjusting his flannel like it was armor. “Let’s just hope these people don’t sacrifice newcomers to their God of Lawn Care.”

Inside the clubhouse, Lana, the HOA president, stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand. She welcomed everyone with her signature cheerfulness, but you couldn’t miss the way her eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on the newcomers—you and Dean.

“Now, let’s get started!” she chirped. “First order of business: Mr. Peterson’s garden gnomes. We’ve had complaints they’re too whimsical.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at you, mouthing, too whimsical? You struggled not to laugh.

The meeting droned on, a mix of petty complaints and rigid enforcement of bizarre rules, until Lana’s tone shifted.

“And finally,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, “a reminder that all residents are expected to attend next week’s neighborhood barbecue. Remember, harmony is our greatest strength. We’re all part of something... bigger here.”

Her words sent a ripple of unease through the room. Most of the neighbors nodded dutifully, but a few glanced nervously at each other. You caught Dean’s gaze, and his expression was sharp, all traces of humor gone.

Later that night, back at the house, you pored over what you’d observed with Sam and Dean.

“It’s not just the rules,” you said, pacing the living room. “It’s the way they act. Like they’re afraid of stepping out of line.”

“And what’s with Lana’s ‘bigger picture’ speech?” Dean added, tossing the HOA handbook onto the coffee table. “She’s definitely hiding something.”

Sam tapped at his laptop. “I did some digging. Lana moved into this neighborhood ten years ago, right before the HOA’s rules got so strict. Before that? No disappearances, no creepy cult vibes.”

Dean frowned. “So she’s the ringleader?”

“More like the summoner,” Sam replied, turning the screen to show an old news clipping. It detailed Lana’s involvement in occult studies years ago. “If she’s behind this, it’s not merely a pact. It’s using the HOA to enforce perfection, as it literally sustains the spell that keeps it anchored here.”

“So, the HOA handbook’s not just a pain in the ass,” you said, glancing at Dean. “It’s the demon’s playbook.”

The next morning, Dean decided to “blend in” by taking his role as a suburban husband to absurd levels.

You came downstairs to find him in an apron, flipping pancakes with an exaggerated flourish. “Morning, sweetheart!” he called, his grin annoyingly smug.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Being the perfect husband,” he said, loading a plate with a stack of slightly burnt pancakes. “You should try it sometime, darling.”

The sarcasm in his tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “If this is your idea of perfection, the demon’s going to smite us before lunch.”

Dean’s antics didn’t stop at pancakes. Later that day, he decided to tackle the front yard—shirtless, of course, because “that’s what husbands do, right?”

You stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching as he wrestled with the garden hose like it owed him money. His flannel was tossed onto a nearby fence, leaving his t-shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner. The summer sun glinted off his shoulders, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, you couldn’t help but stare.

“You know,” you called out, fighting a smirk, “the neighbors are going to think you’re some kind of exhibitionist.”

Dean glanced up, his grin wolfish. “Or they’ll think you’re married to the best damn landscaper on the block.”

“You missed a spot.” You pointed at a section of the lawn.

He mock-groaned, holding a hand to his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Man slaves away, and this is the thanks he gets? No wonder I’m burned out on marriage.”

“Burned out implies you ever tried,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe.

Dean’s expression shifted, just for a moment—a flash of something vulnerable, quickly buried under his usual bravado. “Yeah, well... guess I never found the right reason to try.”

The air between you grew heavier, the teasing edge dulled by an undercurrent you didn’t quite know how to address. He broke eye contact first, turning back to the yard. “Don’t just stand there, princess. Grab a rake or something.”

The barbecue was the kind of event you’d have laughed at if you weren’t actively part of it. Neatly arranged folding tables with checkered cloths stretched across the neighborhood park, and neighbors mingled with drinks in hand, every one of them smiling just a little too wide.

Dean leaned against the grill, flipping burgers with the same intensity he used while sharpening knives. “This is a trap. You know that, right?” he muttered, glancing around.

“Obviously,” you replied, sipping a too-sweet lemonade. “But we’re undercover, remember? Try to act like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Dean’s grin was laced with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, I’m having a blast. Love talking about lawn fertilizer and HOA-approved fence heights.”

Just then, Lana appeared beside the two of you, her ever-present clipboard tucked under her arm. “Dean, those burgers smell amazing! And you—” She turned to you with that polished grin. “You’re just glowing, aren’t you? Married life suits you two so well.”

Dean, never one to miss an opportunity, slung an arm around your shoulders. “Well, Lana, we’re just one big, happy couple.” He punctuated the sentence with a quick kiss to your temple, the smug look on his face daring you to react.

You forced a tight smile. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Lana beamed, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Wonderful to hear. It’s so important to maintain harmony in the neighborhood.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “After all, everything falls apart if even one house doesn’t meet expectations.”

Dean’s arm stiffened against your shoulder, his instincts flaring. “Is that right?”

Lana nodded, her expression unreadable. “Absolutely. Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy the barbecue!”

Once Lana was out of earshot, you and Dean regrouped with Sam near the dessert table.

“She’s hiding something,” you said, cutting straight to the point.

“Definitely,” Dean agreed, setting his plate down. “And what’s with the whole ‘harmony’ thing? She sounded like a cult leader.”

Sam nodded, keeping his voice low. “She is. It is indeed a deal, an exchange. The more the neighborhood conforms to the rules, the stronger it gets. People who can’t meet the standards? They’re the ones who disappear.”

You frowned. “So the HOA rules aren’t just annoying—they’re literally fuel for this thing.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Well, good news. We’ve got the perfect distraction right here.” He gestured at himself and you with a smirk.

“Perfect distraction?” you repeated.

“Think about it,” he said. “We’re new, we’re not exactly HOA material, and if anyone’s gonna tick off a demon about their precious rules, it’s us.”

Sam sighed. “Just be careful. If the demon gets wind of what you’re doing, it won’t wait for you to break a rule—it’ll come for you directly.”

The first crack in the HOA’s perfectly polished façade came two days after Dean decided to rebel in his own loud, stubborn way. The offending incident? A single garden gnome—brightly painted and flipping the bird—set proudly on your front lawn.

You crossed your arms, staring at the gnome as Dean lounged against the doorframe. “Really?”

Dean grinned, proud as a kid showing off a bad report card. “What? It’s art.”

“It’s bait,” you corrected, shaking your head.

“Exactly.” He smirked, arms crossed. “Lana won’t know what hit her.”

Sure enough, Lana arrived within the hour, clipboard in hand and fury barely masked beneath her painted smile. “Dean, we need to discuss your lawn decorations,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dean stepped outside, wearing the smuggest expression you’d ever seen. “What’s the problem, Lana? Don’t you like art?”

She blinked, momentarily stunned by his audacity, before recovering. “This neighborhood thrives on harmony. Your—choice of ornament—disrupts that balance.”

Dean leaned casually against the porch railing. “Huh. Didn’t see anything in the handbook about freedom of expression being against the rules.”

You watched from the window, biting back a laugh as Lana sputtered, her usual control slipping. She left with a curt, “This isn’t over.”

After Lana stormed off, you expected Dean to be all bravado and quips, but instead, he started fixing the fence. It was such a rare sight that you almost did a double take.

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the porch post.

“Making sure the place doesn’t fall apart,” Dean replied, hammering a nail into place. “If we’re staying here long enough to take down a demon, might as well make it look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were so handy, Mr. Winchester.”

He smirked, not looking up. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m full of surprises.”

That night, you found Dean in the kitchen, you noticed Dean seemed... different. Focused. Almost like he belonged here. He stirred a pot of chili with a level of precision that rivaled his aim with a gun.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remarked, leaning against the counter.

Dean shrugged. “I used to cook for Sammy when we were kids. Guess some habits stick.”

The soft admission caught you off guard. For all his bravado, moments like these reminded you of the man underneath—the one who took care of everyone else, even when he didn’t have to.

“This is weird,” you muttered, setting the table.

Dean looked over at you. “What is?”

“You. Doing all this domestic stuff. It’s like you’re... enjoying it.”

Dean shrugged, placing the bowls of chili on the table. “I don’t hate it. Beats getting shot at every day.”

“Guess you’re not half-bad at this husband thing after all,” you teased.

Dean smirked, his usual cockiness back in place. “Don’t let it go to your head, sweetheart.”

Later, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through channels. Sam had gone back to his motel, leaving you and Dean with a rare bit of downtime.

The sound of the TV faded into the background as Dean spoke up. “You ever think about it? A normal life, I mean.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “Sometimes. Why?”

He leaned back, one hand draped along the back of the couch, his expression unusually serious. “I don’t know. It’s just... this case, all this fake domestic stuff... It’s kinda nice. Not worrying about what’s lurking around the corner every second.”

“You’ve never thought about it before?” you asked gently.

Dean gave a short laugh, his gaze distant. “Nah. Figured it wasn’t in the cards. Even when I was a kid, normal wasn’t exactly in the Winchester playbook.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected.

“Maybe it’s not about the cards you’re dealt,” you said softly. “Maybe it’s about finding your own kind of normal.”

He turned to look at you, his green eyes searching yours. For a moment, the air between you felt charged, but he broke the gaze first, his usual smirk returning. “Well, my kind of normal definitely involves better TV shows than this crap.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Fair enough.”

The tender moment passed quickly as the two of you turned back to the case.

The next morning, Sam returned with a crucial discovery. “Lana made a deal with a demon ten years ago. She wanted the perfect neighborhood, and the demon delivered. But the cost? Anyone who doesn’t fit her version of perfection gets sacrificed to keep the deal going.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “So she’s trading lives for lawn perfection? Well, that’s messed up.”

Sam nodded. “It thrives off the conformity she enforces. The more people play by the rules, the stronger the demon gets. The ones who disappear? They’re used as sacrifices to maintain the spell.”

Dean stood abruptly. “Great. So we take down the demon, and her whole Stepford act goes up in flames.” He looked at you. “But first, we gotta piss her off enough to make a move.”

After talkng with Sam, you and Dean turned the dial on your undercover roles.

You started your day loudly arguing in the driveway about “trivial” things—how Dean never folded the laundry right, how you “always” bought the wrong coffee creamer.

Dean played it up like a pro, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Fine! Next time, you go grocery shopping!”

“Oh, because you’re so busy, huh?” you shot back, struggling not to laugh.

So you two just keeped violating the rules. Determined to push Lana past her breaking point, Dean added strung mismatched Christmas lights across the front porch, even though it was July.

“Dean,” you said, standing in the driveway with crossed arms, “I’m pretty sure even the demon is rolling its eyes at this point.”

Dean grinned as he plugged in the lights, which flickered in a garish rainbow. “Oh, come on, admit it. This is the most fun we’ve had on a case in months.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re married to me,” he shot back, winking. “You know,” Dean said, leaning in close as you adjusted the strand of blinking lights, “we make a pretty good team when we’re breaking all the rules.”

You smirked. “Better than your pancake-making team, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Touché.”

Lanas’s car pulled up just as Dean propped his flamingo lawn ornament next to the mailbox. Her expression was a masterclass in repressed rage as she stepped out, clipboard in hand.

“Dean!” she barked, her voice sharp enough to make the neighbors glance over from their gardening.

He sauntered up to her, feigning innocence. “Morning, Lana. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Her smile was brittle, her grip on the clipboard tightening. “We need to talk.”

Dean’s escalating antics had done the trick. By the time night fell, Lana’s perfectly polished demeanor had cracked. She called an emergency HOA meeting, under the pretense of “addressing a disturbance in harmony.”

“You ready for this?” Dean asked as the three of you crouched outside the clubhouse, peeking through a window.

“I’ve been ready since the gnome,” you replied, flashing him a quick grin.

Sam whispered, “Looks like she’s prepping for a ritual. We need to stop her before she completes it.”

Dean nodded. “Sam, you cut off the ritual. We’ll handle Lana.”

“We?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean smirked. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I can throw you,” you shot back, but the teasing tone didn’t quite mask the warmth in your words.

The two of you burst through the clubhouse door just as Lana lit the final candle on an ornate altar covered in sigils. The neighbors, all eerily quiet, stood in a semicircle around her, their expressions blank and glassy-eyed.

“Lana!” Dean called out, his voice cutting through the room. “You forgot to put this on the HOA agenda.”

She turned, her face twisting into something feral. “You don’t understand,” she hissed. “This neighborhood is perfect because of me. Because of what I’ve done!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, your definition of perfect kinda sucks.”

Lana snarled, grabbing a knife from the altar and lunging at him. You moved instinctively, stepping in to block her path. Together, you and Dean fought her off, moving in perfect sync.

She was fast, unnaturally so, but you matched her step for step, Dean covering your back with practiced ease. At one point, she swung the knife in a wide arc, and Dean caught her wrist, twisting it just enough for you to knock the blade free.

“You good?” he asked, glancing at you.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m fine. You?”

“Peachy,” he replied, his grin full of adrenaline-fueled bravado.

Behind you, Sam chanted Latin, his voice steady as he worked to dismantle the ritual. The sigils on the altar began to glow, flickering as the power binding the neighborhood started to unravel.

Realizing she was losing, Lana screamed, “You’ll ruin everything! Without this deal, this place will fall apart!”

Dean shrugged, stepping closer. “Good. Then maybe it’ll feel a little more human.” With a final swing, he knocked her unconscious, the force of it sending her crumpling to the floor.

Sam finished the ritual just as the sigils burned out entirely, plunging the room into silence. The neighbors blinked, their blank expressions fading as they seemed to wake from a dream.

“It’s over,” Dean said, his voice low.

Outside the clubhouse, you leaned against the Impala, catching your breath. The air felt lighter now, the oppressive weight of the neighborhood’s perfection finally lifted.

Dean stood a few feet away, looking at you with an unreadable expression. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You okay?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” you teased, but the smile you gave him was gentle.

Dean’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he’d been holding back—relief, affection, gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Took me long enough, huh?”

You laughed softly, your hand resting against his chest. “Yeah. But worth the wait.”

᭝ ᨳଓ𓂃⋆.

The next morning, as the three of you packed up to leave, Dean was back to his usual self—mostly.

Dean hesitated, glancing at the house. “Gotta admit,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “this whole domestic thing... wasn’t the worst.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you hated it.” Dean smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, turns out I don’t suck at it. Could even get used to it, maybe.”

“You know,” he said, leaning against the Impala as you loaded the last bag into the trunk, “this whole married thing has its perks.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Yeah. Hot meals, shared insurance benefits, someone to remind me when I forget my wallet.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He shook his head, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at you. “Maybe in another life.”

You didn’t answer, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. Dean opened the driver’s side door, his usual cocky grin back in place. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hit the road.” You climbed in, Dean kissing you on the head before closing the door.

As the Impala roared to life and the too-perfect neighborhood disappeared in the rearview mirror, you couldn’t help but think about Dean’s earlier words. Maybe this undercover mission had been more than just a case.

Maybe, in some small way, it had given both of you a glimpse of what could be.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[prael]

An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

-

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

contents: fluff. established relationship. found family. megumi takes up baking and it takes you back to your teenage years when a certain white-haired someone pined for you. 1.4k wc.

Nine year old Megumi has a crush on someone. You were pleasantly surprised when he asked you to take him to the grocery store to pick up some ingredients, and you inquired if there was a special occasion or a school cooking project as you both walked along the aisle and collected the items on his list that he prepared beforehand.

Your heart melts when you learn that he was planning to gift the pretty girl in his class something homemade, and he decided on butter cookies because she mentioned in passing that it was one of her favorite snacks. You think it’s incredibly sweet that Megumi came up with the idea himself, and even more so that he wanted to set aside a weekend to create something completely from scratch with his own two hands when purchasing a square tin would’ve been much easier.

It certainly reminds you of an insufferable yet equally lovable sorcerer that’s way too tall for his own good with too bright blue eyes that make you forget everything around you if you stare into them a little too long. When you both were just two young teenagers pining after each other and he showed up with a white pastry box hidden behind his back on a summer day, with the strawberries in season and nurtured and harvested to perfection. You smile at the pleasant memory before forcing yourself back to reality.

When you are getting ready to pay for the things you and Megumi placed on the conveyor belt, he stops you and pulls out his Digimon wallet (courtesy of Gojo’s taste in presents) and explains he wants to purchase it with his own savings and be able to say that this gift is entirely by him without receiving any help from others.

You almost had to hold back a tear because when did this boy become so sweet? You suppose he always was this sweet and thoughtful, it just took a bit of time and some trust for him to fully warm up to you and Gojo despite the circumstances with his family and almost being sold off like a pawn to the Zenin clan. And now he has a home where him and his sister could feel like they belong and be surrounded with people that he could depend on because at the end of the day Megumi is just a boy much too young to be growing up too fast.

You announce your return home to Gojo and Tsumiki with the soft thud of the grocery bags being placed on the kitchen counter, and Megumi scurries into his bedroom to fetch the printed recipe he tucked away in a drawer. You carefully take out each item from the bags to place on the surface for him to get started, and white tufts of hair come into your peripherals and Gojo greets you with a cheeky grin.

“Angel, you’re back.” His hand falls on your hip and he softly pecks your lips when you turn your head toward him. He does a quick scan of the contents in front of you, and he decides you must be some kind of mind reader or his telepathic messages have finally reached you after several days now. “Aw baby~ Don’t tell me you’re baking something for me? How did you know I was craving—”

“Not me.” You shake your head and cut him off promptly. “Megumi.” And at the mention of his name, the young raven-haired boy enters the kitchen with a loose paper in his grip. You offer him a polite smile before addressing that everything he needs is on the counter and point to where the baking equipment are, and if he has any questions or concerns then you’ll be in the next room with Gojo as you drag your boyfriend by the arm to give Megumi his privacy.

“You see, Satoru, our Megumi here has a crush on someone. And he’s taken it upon himself to bake her cookies!” You say just above a whisper, a proud smile lining your lips and Gojo arches a curious brow. You catch a peek between the threshold that separates the kitchen and sitting area with Gojo looming behind you and find Megumi checking off the ingredients and looking over the instructions. He’s being thorough, that’s a good start.

“Megumi, eh? You know, I’m a little surprised he’s crushing at all. He’s quite the serious kid.”

You huff at him softly. “Well, serious or not, I think everyone is allowed to have crushes. Besides, doesn’t this remind you of something? Like that time you baked me a strawberry shortcake because strawberries were my favorite?” You look back up at him, and in your gaze there was always a sort of sweet and dreamy expression that never fails to make his heart swell three times too big.

“Ah.” Gojo chuckles, and his mind drifts back to the fond memories of his own youth, when he too used to try his hand at baking sweets in the hopes of impressing you. He remembered how long it took and how many attempts he made since he had no prior experience. There was a lot of flour and eggshells, and maybe he did set the oven on fire… but the moment he saw your face light up with your beautiful smile it was worth all the trouble and the mess. “That was the cake that changed it all for us, huh?” His arms move to your waist and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You nod and hum affectionately, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck though with his height he had to bend down slightly. “That’s one way to put it. But as much as I appreciate the sweet gesture, I am so glad you left the baking to me since then.”

“You’re still teasing me about that to this day?” He playfully nips the sensitive spot on your neck causing you to giggle and lightly shove him away. “But hey, I never claimed to be a master chef. A little bird told me that maybe a homemade cake from me would be the thing to win your heart.”

“Well, I hope you know it was more than the cake that won my heart.”

“Yeah, I know it was my good looks and charm, you can’t get enough of me.” Gojo teases, peppering kisses over your shoulders and neck before pulling back just enough so his smirk comes into your view. “Enlighten me then. Since I still don’t have a clue why an Angel like you fell for a great catch such like myself.”

You playfully roll your eyes at his jokes, and you mull it over for a long moment to purposely keep him in anticipation. There are so many reasons that made you love Satoru Gojo back then, and every day you find new things to love about him. But for now the two qualities that come to mind should suffice for an answer. “Maybe it’s because I found you funny. And cute sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Cute most times, I think.” Gojo quips, and he gently pinches your cheeks. “And of course, my sense of humor is legendary. Who else can make you laugh like I do, hmm?”

“Alright, I think that’s enough flattery for you in one day. Any more and I’m afraid your enormous ego might burst.” There’s a teasing lilt in your voice, and suddenly the air around you feels sweeter as Gojo brings you closer to him and kisses your cheeks before resting his forehead against yours.

“But you know I love you, right?” He says in a much softer tone. “I might tease you a lot and act like an idiot sometimes, but I do appreciate you still being here with me through it all. Without you, I don’t want to imagine what my life would be like without you. You make me a better person, you know that?” He tenderly cradles the side of your face and gazes lovingly into your eyes before there’s a flash of his dimples and a boyish giggle. “And the fact you think I’m cute is icing on the cake. Pun intended.”

You groan softly but the laughter that came shortly after is one of genuine affection. “I'm gonna go check on Megumi.” Before you turn on your heel, you plant a big smooch on his cheek then you’re gone the next second. He stands there, grinning from ear to ear as he rubs the spot you kissed like he still was (and he still is) the lovesick boy just a few years back.

꒰ note ᰔ the idea where megumi takes after gojo in some ways really squeezes my heart and that’s what inspired this little piece. ꒱

[p0orbaby]

May i request a short fluffy blurb of Alexia and readers first Christmas with their new born daughter and the barca team and the team really outdoes by bringing gifts and Alexia and the reader having no space in their alarm with all the gifts. Godmothers mapi and ingrid being the main culprit

-

The living room is a mess, and it’s entirely the Barcelona women’s team’s fault. Wrapping paper litters the floor, piling up around the coffee table like snowdrifts. Your newborn daughter is asleep in her crib in the corner, blissfully unaware of the madness her first Christmas has caused. You, however, are very aware. And so is Alexia, who is leaning against the wall with a look of both awe and dread as yet another ridiculously oversized box is dragged into the room.

“This is too much,” Alexia mutters under her breath, though there’s no heat in her voice.

“It was too much an hour ago,” you reply, balancing a pile of discarded ribbons in one hand and an empty cup of coffee in the other. “Now it’s just… obscene”

Mapi strides in with a smug grin, Ingrid trailing behind her with a stuffed giraffe nearly as tall as you. “This one’s from us!” Mapi announces, gesturing to the giraffe like it’s the Sistine Chapel.

“Of course it is,” Alexia says dryly, eyeing the giraffe. “Because every baby needs a life-sized safari animal”

“Exactly,” Mapi replies, unbothered. “She’s going to love it”

“She can’t even hold her own head up yet,” you point out, though you’re smiling. “What’s she supposed to do with a giraffe?”

“She’ll grow into it,” Ingrid says, as if that makes complete sense.

By now, the room is more present than furniture. There are building blocks, stuffed animals, miniature football kits with Putellas printed on the back, a rocking horse, and something that looks suspiciously like a baby drum set.

“I’m scared to look in the kitchen,” Alexia says, almost to herself.

You glance at her, smirking. “You should be. I saw Patri sneaking in with a box that had ‘For the Future Chef’ on it”

Alexia groans, tipping her head back dramatically. “Why does everyone think she needs to be a prodigy at one week old?”

“To be fair,” you say, “she is your daughter”

Alexia gives you a side-eye but doesn’t argue.

The team, meanwhile, has completely taken over the house. Keira and Lucy are assembling what looks like a plastic playhouse in the corner. Aitana is explaining the benefits of wooden toys to Sandra, who seems far more interested in the cookies on the table. And Mapi, of course, is busy unboxing the giraffe like it’s Christmas morning for her.

“Where are we even going to put all this?” Alexia whispers, watching as Marta adds another wrapped gift to the growing pile.

“We could build an extension,” you joke, though you’re only half kidding.

By the time the team leaves, hours later, the house looks like Santa’s workshop exploded. Your daughter is still blissfully unaware, sleeping peacefully despite the chaos. Alexia sinks onto the couch beside you, surveying the damage.

“You realise this is going to happen every year now,” she says, nudging your shoulder.

You glance at the towering giraffe, the playhouse that’s still half-built, and the mountain of gifts stacked against the wall. “We’ll need a bigger house”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Or a storage unit”

“Or fewer godparents,” you mutter, eyeing the guilty parties in the kitchen, where Mapi and Ingrid are raiding the fridge.

But despite the madness, there’s a warmth in the room that you wouldn’t trade for anything. Alexia reaches for your hand, her fingers brushing yours gently.

“Merry Christmas,” she says softly, glancing at the baby.

You smile, squeezing her hand. “Merry Christmas”

[leeluvsyoongi]

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 Synopsis: Soft bf! Jk x innocent gf! Reader Headcannons

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | warning(s)— Reader is a little ditzy, and super innocent, tooth-rotting fluff, & marked smut (unedited lowk)

˖ 𐙚 | word count: 2.1 k words

✧˖° Put Me In A Movie - bulcadoshow

SFW

soft bf! jungkook who adores his precious girlfriend; from the sweet roundness of your cheeks to the way you’d curl onto his lap and nuzzle the crook of his neck when you want his attention. His hands would affectionately wrap around your waist, kissing the top of your head, “What’s up baby?” His gummy smile and round eyes warm your skin. There’s no denying you have an incurable crush on your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. Koo was your boyfriend! The thought alone swarms billions of butterflies in your gut, your heart thrashing against your ribcage. “Can I color in your tattoos?” You mumble, holding a box of washable markers, a small smile curling on your lips. 

soft bf! jungkook nods vigorously at your request, before pressing an array of kisses all over your face. “Of course bunny,” He laughs, adjusting your weight comfortably on his lap before helping you set out the markers on the coffee table. “You’re so cute,” He whispers, resting his chin against your shoulder, watching your hands color in the inked designs. “No, you’re cute,” You mumble, looking up at him before pressing a shy kiss to his nose and returning to your coloring.

soft bf! jungkook admires the soft pink and pastels that fill his arm, along with the other inked tones. “So pretty,” He hums approving of your work, “You did a great job princess, I really like it,” He gently pats your head, watching the way you cover your face with the knitted paws of your soft strawberry print sweater. “Thank you,” You mutter, your voice muffled against the fabric. “Mhm,” He wraps his arms around your waist, gently swaying you from side to side. 

soft bf! jungkook laughs when you decorate bam with pink ribbons on his collar, the pink knitted sweater you spent weeks crafting for him. He can’t help but snap a picture of his son and post it on his Instagram account along with the array of pictures of his precious dog. The photo captioned with“내 여친이 뱀에게 한 짓 좀 봐 “ [Look what my girlfriend did to Bam.] His heart melts at the soft giggles that escape your lips when Bam attacks your face with slobbery licks, clearly loving his new look. 

soft bf! jungkook does everything in his capacity to keep you away from the press. He understands how anxiety-inducing it can be to be followed by dozens of paparazzi. He doesn’t want you living in that stress and is much happier with you existing comfortably, without constantly disguising yourself and being dragged into the whirlpool that is fame.

soft bf! jungkook enjoys being in the kitchen with you, as you talk about all the different recipes you’ve learned while he was away for his photoshoot campaigns. His heart swells at the sight of you pacing around the kitchen for different ingredients in your My Melody apron. Jungkook hums, listening to you ramble about your techniques for making your chocolate chip cookies extra fluffy, while he works on the opposite end of the counter in his matching Kuromi apron, making his mother’s famous recipe of Busan bibimbap. His eyes would dart up to you every few moments, taking in the soft curve of your cheeks as you mix the dough, adding a generous amount of flour after every few mixes. And god is he so in love with you.

soft bf! jungkook who couldn’t resist the soft curve of your cheek, without warning, leaned in and nipped playfully at the delicate skin, his teeth just grazing it. You swiveled around in his arms, poking his firm chest with a finger that lacked any real menace. “That hurt, Koo!” He tilted his head, his bunny-like smile growing wider. “No, it didn’t,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence. The way your brows knitted together, and your pout deepened, made his heart flip. “It did,” you insisted, rubbing your cheek dramatically, your lips forming the cutest little frown.“Aish, my poor baby,” he cooed, his hands finding your cheeks and squishing them gently together. Your lips puckered slightly, making you look even more adorable in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, leaning in to pepper obnoxiously loud kisses across your lips.“Koo, stop!” you protested, your words coming out muffled, soft giggles bubbling out between every kiss, “Your lip ring is so cold!”

soft bf! jungkook always knows just what to do when the first days of your period hit. Ice cream? He has it stashed in the freezer. Heating pads? Already stored in a warm place. Your favorite stuffed animals? Littering the couches and covering the span of your bed. Your favorite movies? He already made a watchlist on Netflix. Pads? An entire inventory is in the bathroom cupboard. He already knows all your favorite foods and has a list of just what to cook when your cramps won’t leave you alone. The sweet boy was too shy to ask in the first months of your relationship, the only way he knew just what to do when the two of you had first gotten together was to call his Eomma asking all sorts of questions about what vegetables and foods ease cramps, she laughed, and told him to take out a pen and paper.

NSFW

soft bf! jungkook is surprised when you ask him about masturbation, the way you softly mumble the question and can hardly meet his gaze, already has a smile on his face. “Do you want me to teach you?” He offers, gently tracing tender patterns on your palm, his voice soft and slow. You slowly nod, nipping down at your lip. “Yes please,” He gently gathers you in his arms, resting his back against the headboard. He eases your back against his chest, resting his chin over your head. “I’m gonna take off your shorts okay?” His voice is soft, “Is that okay princess?” You quickly nod, your smaller hands working alongside his own to remove the soft material of your pj shorts. Your legs are carefully spread, and you’re blinking at the wet print of arousal on your baby-pink panties. His fingers gently ghost over the damp fabric, “This means you’re feeling good.” He whispers, “You know that already, don’t you baby?” You nod, your hands wrapping around his wrist, as he presses your stiff button over the cloth. “See this little button right here? That’s where you’re gonna feel super good.” 

soft bf! jungkook whispers, rubbing tight slow circles against the nub. Your body melts at his touch, a shuddered breath escaping your lips, “That feels good, right?” You nod, “M-mhm…I-I already touch there….I-I just…I never put my fingers inside…when I try, it hurts,” You whisper. He hummed in understanding, Jungkook knew you were a virgin, and he always respected your wishes to wait a little longer. “D-Do you want me to help?” He offers, his other hand rubbing soft circles over the warm skin of your belly, “B-But your fingers are so much bigger…?” You mumble shyly, “I-I don’t think they’ll…fit Koo…”

soft bf! jungkook sighs, the thought of your tiny hole struggling to take his fingers makes his crouch tighten. He's quick to brush the thought aside, focusing on your comfort. He’ll jerk it off in the shower later. “That’s okay bunny,” He assures, gently patting your hair. “My fingers don’t have to go in, we’ll take it easy, okay?” His eyes are locked on the nervous nip of your lip, and the innocent look in your eyes. “How…?”  You whisper, Jungkook gently lifts your chin his thumb tentatively brushing over the skin. “Remember when Koo said he could jus’ eat you right up?” His eyes are round and sweet, his thumb softly brushing over your bottom lip, making your face warm. “Mhm…” You nod, “Well, Koo jus’ needs you to lay back and take a deep breath okay?”

soft bf! jungkook makes sure his pretty princess is nice and comfortable, your pillows cozy beneath your head, and under your hips, keeping them propped up. He lets you hold onto your Hello Kitty SquishMallow for comfort, before peppering your inner thighs with loving kisses. He pays extra attention to your breathing—from every sigh to soft hitch— “It’s gonna feels a little weird at first…” He whispers, noticing the way your eyes shyly flicker down to meet his tender gaze. “I-Is it okay for your mouth to…uhm…be on my princess parts?” You whisper, your face burning up with shame and embarrassment at the filthy words. After a moment of silence, he kisses your soft strawberry-scented skin, nodding, “You’re gonna feel so good, your pretty cunny is gonna get so puffy,” Your eyes slightly widen at his words, and your lips part ever-so-slightly. “Rea-Really?”

soft bf! jungkook Feels his cheeks flush at the pretty breathy sounds that escape your lips. He’s addicted to the way your hole floods with warm cream at every flick of his tongue against your clit, or the way your fingers fist at his fluffy black mullet. The feeling of your lilac nails gently scraping against his scalp with every bump of his nose against your clit, making his head rush with hot blood. “K-Koo—” the way you mewled that little nickname like your life depended on it—the way your small airy voice filled his ears, only making him dizzier. Your hips jolt at every flick of his tongue against your entrance.

soft bf! jungkook is drunk on the taste of your arousal, the slight flutter of your flesh, and Fuck, you’re whining, softly hiccuping, when his lips wrap around your folds, tasting the path along your drooling slit. “Is it okay if I fill you up bunny? Jus’ one finger, k’ay?” His eyes dart up to your teary expression, the way you’re biting down on your swollen bottom lip. “S’ it gonna hurt?” You whisper, “Just a pinch, promise I’ll make it super quick…It’s gonna feel so good,” He assured you, and of course, you trusted him with your life, nodding like his good girl. The soft curtains of his hair lower back to your puffy cunny, the fluffy strands brushing against your thighs only makes you gush even more, feeling the warmth slowly seep down to your tight ring of muscles. 

soft bf! jungkook carefully rests your legs over his broad shoulders, your feet resting on the taunt muscles of his back. You notice how his fringe falls over his eyes, prompting you to gently gather his hair into a neat ponytail, securing it with the hair tie from your wrist. He flashes a soft, sweet smile before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your stomach. “Ready?” he asks, his voice warm and inviting. His voice carries a mellow weight, causing your insides to pool with warmth. He carefully prods at your slick hole, He moves the tip of his finger with gentle, deliberate motion, his gaze never leaving your dazed expression. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips as you moan softly, the sensation of his fingertip slowly pushing into you, each movement drawn out with careful intention. Gradually, he deepens the rhythm, adding more with each gentle thrust.“Mph–mmh–” You gasp at the unfamiliar fullness, his finger settled deep inside. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. “You’re doing so well…” he murmurs, sensing the way your walls flutter around him. “Do you need more time, or can I move?” You nod fervently, it feels so good, too good to stop.

soft bf! jungkook groans at the sight of his finger, the faint slickness, and the soft trace of blood at your exposed opening. Slowly, he curls his finger back in, gradually increasing the stretch to let your body adjust to the new sensation. "Feels good?" His gaze locks with yours, watching every sharp intake of breath as his finger twists deeper. "U-U-huh..." you gasp, nodding as you tighten around him, your breath hitching with each twist of his finger, “M-M–g-gonna…” you stammer, your legs trembling with each whimpering breath. “Let go for me sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your nub, gently sucking the sensitive flesh as his finger continues its rhythm.

soft bf! jungkook pushes a few strands of hair away from his face, kissing your soft tummy, and gently rubbing your thigh in your overwhelmed state. “Shhh, it’s okay you did so well,” In his eyes, you were so adorable shuddering and mewling with every brush of the wet towel against your puffy cunt, so sensitive and sweet. He peppers an array of soft kisses to your lips, muffling out every whine, “너무 귀여워, 내 딸아.” [so cute, my girl.] He murmurs, gently nuzzling his nose against your own. You tiredly blink, a satisfied smile pulling at your lips, “Thank you…” You mumble, as his head finds its place against your soft breasts. “너무 사랑해요..” [I love you so much.] “나도요…” [I love you too]

soft bf! jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as Bam enthusiastically bounded over the bed, his wet nose pressing gently against your sleeping frame. The puppy let out a soft whine before curling up beside you, content.

"Aish, Bam... let's go," he said with a chuckle, gently scooping the pup into his arms. Bam had an appointment, and they couldn't afford to be late. Glancing back at you, still, sound asleep, Jungkook felt a swell of affection. He knew you were completely wiped out after last, which evidently pushed you to your limit, and you deserved every moment of rest.

The thought made him grin. He couldn't help but wonder just how long you'd stay asleep once the two of you finally took things all the way. The idea was both endearing and exciting, filling him with warmth as he carried Bam out the door.

Hope you enjoyed it :3 I'd really appreciate reblogs, interactions & likes! Thank you :)

[cinellieroll]

☆ random obey me headcanons part 2!

asmodeus, levi and barbatos ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor, solomon)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: some small nsfw on asmo's part :p

small note: thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! i never expected such a large majority of people to enjoy my content so it's very dear to me. once again, thank you!

☆ asmodeus:

- kinda bad at cooking. his way of slicing and dicing vegetables is very mediocre if not clumsy looking. there are days where his cooking is acceptable and days where it's to seasoned or too bland (always convinces himself its good tho and posts it on his devilgram)

- though he's kinda bad at cooking, his baking skills are okay! his favorite pastry to make are cookies because he can design them the most.

- "ofcourse mc! you'll always be the first one to try my desserts! unless you want to taste something else?~ ♡"

- he has a collection of sanrios, hironos and sonny angels in his room. ESPECIALLY sonny angels. crazy thing is he always gets them for free from his fans and its always the limited edition ones

- he really enjoys watching old movies from the human world especially the romcoms. mean girls, notting hill, pitch perfect. he will pester you to rewatch it with him even though you guys have seen it multiple times already.

- he keeps a small jewelry box in his room but instead of jewelry its full of pics of you and him and the gifts you give him. theres some pics in there where the other brothers were cut or crossed out so it'll be just you and him lmfao

- he is a yandere and i stand by this. it's not as obvious but if he's really into you he'll constantly mark you with his scent and the stuff he wears. he'll leave a hickey or a bite mark if you're lucky ;)

- the type of guy to only bring a purse to school. if you ask for a pencil the bitch is gonna open his bag and say "oopsie! i only brought my makeup pouch and mirror today. sorry babe!"

- has his own private concert in showers every goddamn day

- he'll either fangirl with you about celebrities or he'll get extremely jealous because you're simping for someone else.

☆ levi:

- sometimes his ass crack will be on display when he's sitting down on the floor

- wears booty shorts religiously. sometimes he'll casually just walk out his room wearing a hoodie and booty shorts with prints on it

- has a tumblr account where he posts a bunch of hc, drabbles and other shit and until now no one knows its him

- had an amino and discord phase where he always roleplayed with other people. till this day it haunts him at night

- he livestreams twice a week on twitch and has been scolded by lucifer on stream once. there was also a time where mammon barged in his room half naked and suddenly all the views went up 10x

- trolls on roblox like it's a 9 to 5 job

- every once in a while he'll stay in lucifers room while lucifer is doing paperwork. he'll just lay down on his bed, watch and play games and even fall asleep

- makes his own persona in every fandom he gets into and writes very detailed backstories (dw levi, same)

- only reads "x reader" fics for obvious reasons

- went insane because human world games and animes are better than the ones in devildom. dont get me started about aot. (his favorite is levi ackerman obvi)

☆ barbatos:

- wishes he could get piercings but since he's the demon prince's butler he obviously can't

- started tweakin when you said some humans keep rats and bugs as pets. like he stopped polishing some plates and looked at you like you just dog shitted diavolo's name

- really enjoys your spotify playlist filled with metalhead and grunge songs. he really likes slipknot

- likes to order those cute, fancy tea sets when he has the time. when you gifted him tea leaves and a limited edition teapot set his love for you sky rocketed.

- gets annoyed when solomon manspreads

- has a really good voice when he sings. he used to sing diavolo lullabies when his father would get angry at him

- scrolls through levi and mammon's post for educational purposes cuz he wants to learn slangs just incase diavolo asks him what a specific word means

- "barbatos, what does 'runnin from da opps' mean?"

- "my lord, 'runnin from da opps' is a slang made by the new generation. it means fleeing from your haters."

- loves to tailor and iron his bed sheets so he can have a peaceful rest after a long day of non stop errands.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Little comfort things

Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter AU

Self-Aware! Kunikida Doppo x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Paul Verlaine

Description: You can't sleep. Doppo and Verlaine are here to make you feel comfortable.

Set in a week after Lost and Found. At this point, BSD Cast don't know, what happened to Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

Shortish comfort fic

__________

You tossed and turned in your bed. You opened your bloodshot eyes. You couldn't sleep. You were afraid of sleeping. Because each time you close your eyes, you saw Teyvat. That wrenched place... For the last week you couldn't sleep, the only time you could catch some sleep, was during dawn hours, while you lose focus on anything, because of exhaustion.

You sobbed and hit the mattress. You wanted to sleep! You don't want to feel afraid anymore.

You groaned and put the pillow above your head. You remembered, how it was, when you were a kid and had a nightmare.

If you were a kid again... Your parents would probably put your favorite blanket around you, took you to the kitchen and make you a cup of cocoa. You will have your favorite toy with you, hugging it, while drinking your cocoa and eating cookies. Then you will go to bed, and there would be no nightmares.

But you were an adult. There were no little blankets with colorful print, no favorite toy, no cocoa in a cup with cartoon animals on it, no cookies with smiley faces...

Only memories about Teyvat, fear and guilt of making BSD Cast worried about you...

___________

"Are you sure, that you need my help?" asked Verlaine, looking at your parents' place. Kunikida nodded slightly.

"Yes. [Y/N] are..." Kunikida didn't finish. Everyone knew, what was happening to you. "Maybe, their parents knew, how to help them."

Verlaine nodded, yet, asked again.

"But, why me?"

Kunikida sighed and open the car's door.

"I need someone, who will make [Y/N] feel safe. If there's no way to comfort them, we need to find how to do it ourselves. And [Y/N] see you as a protector."

Kunikida stepped outside from the car. Verlaine followed after him.

"Besides," Kunikida's ears became slightly pink. "I need someone, who will help to came up with a believable lie."

__________

Verlaine was carrying a box in his hands. Your parents were sweet enough to share stories about your childhood with "[Y/N]'s nice friends". With some sweet words, Verlaine managed to get some of your old things from your parents.

Verlaine didn't know if it was true, that things from childhood can lift person's spirit. Well, at least Kunikida was sure of it. Verlaine only hopped, that it would help you.

Tonight, they will help you.

________

Another night, another sleepless night.

You just lay here, looking at the ceiling, thinking about anything you can, to distract you from Teyvat.

A quiet knock on the door cut your line of thoughts.

Did you wake someone up?

You sat up and spoke. Your voice was hoarse.

"Come in..."

The door was opened, and Verlaine stepped into your room. You looked at the floor. You didn't want to look at Verlaine. You were too embarrassed.

Verlaine took a few more steps, until he stepped right before your bed. You were waiting for him to ask you to be quiet.

Instead, something soft was wrapped around your shoulders.

It took you some time, before you realized, what it was. Such an old, soft, familiar thing. Now, it was too small for you and only can cover your shoulders.

"M-my childhood blanket?" You looked at Verlaine. You can't believe it. How he got it from your parents' home? Then you saw another thing. A familiar toy in his hands. Your favorite one.

You didn't resist, when Verlaine gave you the toy. You only hugged it closer to your chest.

And then Verlaine pick you up.

"Let's go, Dear Opal. Your cocoa and cookies are waiting for you."

When Verlaine carried you to the kitchen, a little ghost of a smile appeared on your face.

Kunikida was here. He was keeping an eye on a pot. A bag of milk, few sugar cubes, box of cocoa powder, bottle of whipped cream, box with chocolate chips, a bottle of vanilla sauce and bag of marshmallows were on the table.

Kunikida turned towards you and Verlaine, and a smile appeared on his face.

"It's almost ready. Give me another minute."

Verlaine and you nodded. Verlaine put you on one of the chairs.

Soon, a big cup of cocoa (with whipped cream, chocolate chips, vanilla cream and a marshmallow) was put before you. Ingredients were put away and were replaced with a big bowl of cookies.

Doppo and Verlaine didn't touch their cocoas, until you make a first sip.

Then Kunikida spoke.

"[Y/N]. I want to tell you that we all care about you. All of us love you. You are dear to all of us. Don't be afraid of asking for help. We will help you. We will be here for you."

Then Verlaine started talking.

"Please, don't be ashamed of being vulnerable. We... didn't know why. But we will be here regardless of the reason. You deserved everything in this world."

You didn't answer, but another faint smile touched your lips.

Then you whispered.

"Thank you..."

The rest of the cocoa drinking were in comfortable silence.

You felt calm. You were among friends. Your little comfort things were there.

For the first time in a week, you felt truly safe. And sleepy.

You finished your cocoa and eat the final cookie.

Kunikida and Verlaine noticed your sleepy expression. Kunikida gently pat your head.

"Let's get you to bed, My Ideal. We will keep you safe. We will stay in your room tonight."

Verlaine pick you up again. Both him and Kunikida returned to your room.

You were put into bed and tucked in. Your childhood blanket and toy was put near you on your bed.

Verlaine and Kunikida got themselves comfortable on your bean bags. It seems, they were serious about staying in your room.

Your room was dark. You closed your eyes.

And finally had a long dream without nightmares.

_________

Kunikida and Verlaine observed your sleeping figure. At this moment, all their problems disappeared. You were sleeping. And you were slightly happier. With small steps, they will help you. With small gestures and warm words.

Because you deserve every bit of happiness they can and will give you.

________

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters @nervousinfluencertidalwave @ayameshu

[juliahope]

Custom Cookies Boxes

We need cookie boxes to present and prevent cookies. @verdancepackaging provides the facility of custom cookie boxes. These boxes are made from Eco-friendly materials like cardboard or kraft paperboard to ensure a friendly environment and to make the cookies remain fresh and intact during storage and transportation. Customization allows you to design boxes with the company logo, patterns, or a particular event or personalized messages. These cookie boxes are available in different shapes and sizes.

[loverboykirstein]

sdv secret santa // sugar and spice

sebastian (sdv) x afab!reader

wc: 1470

mdni -> toys/vibrators, oral (reader receiving), fingering, pet names

***fixing the red ribbon bows in your hair, you emerged from your bedroom to the sight of sebastian on your couch, holding a small box wrapped in gold paper. 

staring at him for just a moment, your eyes met, a slight flush to his face, fidgeting ever so slightly with the frays on his jeans. 

“what’s this?” you giggle, leaning over him, hands behind your back. “it’s not christmas yet,”. 

“i just wanted to beat santa, obviously,” a small laugh, soft hand pulling you to sit next to him. “c’monnn, open,”. 

gently opening the paper along the folded edges, met with a sleek box that made your face run hot.  i know we talked about these, i didn’t think he’d actually get one***

 ᥫ᭡。thank you @bvnnybrains for asking me to participate in this!!! i hope i fulfilled your wishes and created a reader that fit you! mwuah!!  ᥫ᭡。

the life you had begged for, cried for, pleaded for, filled your log cabin with cinnamon and vanilla that soaked your airways, settling at the base of your throat. 

your dogs napping by the warmth of the fireplace, cuddled up against each other without a single care in the world. 

the suns setting rays saying their goodbyes through blinding orange streaks through your double-paned glass, missing its warmth already. 

“c’mere,” sebastian ushered you over, snowman printed oven mitts covering his hands. 

a small skip in your step, bubbling with excitement as your infinite wait was over. 

twelve near perfect cookies, baked to perfection, more than ready to replace your dinner with as many as your heart desired. what else were you supposed to do on christmas eve? 

“open,” sebastian hummed, catching your chin under his finger to pull your attention towards him. 

pulling apart a fresh baked treat, rewarding your obedience with sugar and spice, mixed with the love they had been missing all this time. 

“oh my god,” a soft hum from your chest, a satisfied smirk on seb’s lips as he wiped away the crumbs on yours. “these are so good,”.  

“now get your cute ass ready, don’t we have somewhere to be?” 

skipping off to the bedroom, rushing for no real reason at his gentle demand. 

with the sun shutting its eyes, power grids took over, illuminating hundreds of thousands of lights strung across yards, roofs, trees, and everything in between far beyond your comprehension. 

sure, the valley had many, but you were dying to see the neighborhoods that lined the outskirts of Zuzu, rich families who didn’t mind the electric bill that came with their decorations. 

and besides, it was the anniversary of your first date together, this was a celebration of swallowed nerves and a shared first kiss. of course you were excited.  

despite the snow coating your farm, you put on your favorite dress, yellow with little red flowers, covering your arms with a matching red sweater. 

you knew he already started your yellow volkswagen, giving her ample time to warm up before taking her out on the salted roads towards Zuzu, knowing you only needed to face the cold for a few short seconds. 

fixing the red ribbon bows in your hair, you emerged from your bedroom to the sight of sebastian on your couch, holding a small box wrapped in gold paper. 

staring at him for just a moment, your eyes met, a slight flush to his face, fidgeting ever so slightly with the frays on his jeans. 

“what’s this?” you giggle, leaning over him, hands behind your back. “it’s not christmas yet,”. 

“i just wanted to beat santa, obviously,” a small laugh, soft hand pulling you to sit next to him. “c’monnn, open,”. 

gently opening the paper along the folded edges, met with a sleek box that made your face run hot. 

i know we talked about these, i didn’t think he’d actually get one. 

“is this..?” you looked up at him, doe eyes shimmering, nervous excitement bubbling in your tummy. 

“mhm, let’s try it out, see if you can handle it,” he peppered a few small kisses on your jawline, a shiver down your spine that mixed with the swell of your burning hot blood. 

far out of your agreed upon budget, a bluetooth vibrator that worked inside and outside, built to nestle up to your cunt under your panties. 

“will you help me?” looking at the purple toy, you fell a little confused, worsened by your embarrassment, pulling you shy and submissive, something seb hadn’t yet experienced since your stumbled introduction the very first time you met. 

knowing it would be a bit of a stretch to even get it in, you took this chance to play dumb, to see him fall apart at your request. 

“what’cha need help with, hmm?” his purrs melted your insides, bones mushy and fingertips tingling. 

“y-y’know…getting it in ‘n stuff,” you shrugged, a slight pout on your lips. 

“i think i can make that happen, bunny,”. his thumb brushed against your lip, still jutted slightly at your exaggerated embarrassment, drawing a slight giggle from the depths of your lungs. 

“be a good girl and don’t get greedy, m’kay?” his tone fell deeper, stronger. 

you nodded as you watched him fall to his knees, pushing your thighs apart to welcome him in. 

feathered kisses met the plush of your thighs, vein-ridden hands pushing the skirt of your dress up high enough to expose the panties that matched  the ribbons upon your hair. 

his heavy breathing tickled your skin, warm against the slick you barely noticed already pooling out of you. 

“off, now,” his tug at the red fabric barely holding on to your false innocence, you lifted your hips just enough for him to yank them off you, throwing them on the floor. 

leaving no time for games, no teases that made you beg for more more more, he drug his tongue up your slit, brushing against your clit just enough to send vibrations through your skull. 

hands on either thigh, he pulled you closer, suffocating in your scent and ready to die right there. 

his tongue starved for more, dancing around your hole as you squirmed under his touch, restraining your hips from bucking into him entirely. 

“ ‘s fucking good,” he mumbled under his breath, sloppy sucks on your already aching clit, drawing breathy moans out past your bitten lips. “ ‘s fuckin’ good for me,”. 

he somehow always managed to unravel you in a matter of seconds, pulling apart the threads that held your thoughts together. 

“baby..” you whined in frustration, so easily wound up from such a short moment of lost touch. 

ignoring your whine for attention, he made a mess of his face instead, your syrup mixing with his saliva, dripping down your cunt and coating his lips. 

“babyyyy..” you whined again, allowing your hips to kick into him, wanting so much more from him, needing more from him. 

running your fingers through his hair, you tried to pull his face away, forcing him to pay attention to your pleas. 

“what did i say about getting greedy, hm?” he unwillingly pulled away, a shimmer of deviance in the corners of his eyes. 

you huffed out in annoyance, jutting your lip out again at his remark, knowing that there was no way on planet earth you wouldn’t get greedy with him between your legs. 

despite his passive reprimand, you felt the cold touch of his fingertips trace your swollen slit, middle dipping into your squishy hole without warning. 

a single sharp gasp pooled out from your open lips, jaw already slacked. rhythmic in nature, pumping in and out of you at an agonizing pace. 

“babyyyyy…” you whined again, wiggling your hips towards him in fevered need. 

“yes, bunny?” his words slightly slurred, eyes blown out as they were pulled away from your sopping wet cunt, slick pooling into his hand. 

“another?” you dressed your wish in sugarcane, too sweet refuse. 

wordlessly accepting your plea, slipping his ring finger in right beside. 

slow scissoring, gushy pumps as he barely stretched you out, just enough to his liking. 

quiet whimpers, goosebump ridden skin, wanting so much more. 

as quickly as his fingers filled your hole, they were gone, leaving you whimpering in frustration. 

his fingertips glossy against the light as he pulled away, fingers finding the toy he had already prepared for you before settling it back into its box. 

“you ready?” he looked at you through his lashes, eyes glassy, matching his lips. 

“mhmm,” you nodded, chest and neck burning up with your unexpected excitement. 

cold to the touch, he coated the silicone in the mix of spit and slick, slowly circling around your entrance until you silently begged for more friction, trying to restrain yourself as much as you could. 

dipping the toy inside your already desperate walls, hissing at the stretch forced so quickly. 

uncomfortably full with something other than his cock, silicone end snuggled up your slit to press against your swollen bud. 

“now..you ready..?” he raised from his knees, pulling your skirt back over the sticky mess of your pussy. 

a meek nod, still adjusting to the weight of the toy inside your tight, gummy walls. 

slipping his phone out from his back pocket, a few swipes as you picked at the side of your thumb, startled at the sudden wave of vibrations buzzing inside and out. 

 bitten lip whimpers, pushing your thighs together at the unfamiliar feeling, collapsing into it nonetheless. 

through his hooded stare, his thumb toying with the pulses and strengths, watching your nerve endings react to each change. 

“c’mon darling, the lights are waiting for you. gotta prove you can still stay on the nice list, yeah?”. 

he’s so going to pay for this.

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

it's a miracle i finished a work on time! i hope you enjoyed! mwuah!  

ᥫ᭡。

[v1x3n]

ILL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.

❆ PAIRINGS - satoru gojo x reader.

❆ SYNOPSIS - your waiting for your husband to get home, you decide to distract yourself with the christmas spirit while you wait.

❆ TAGS - angst (ifykyk)

the lights switched on the fabulous Christmas tree are turned on, the sparkling white stars almost blinding your eyes. the green tree which was overly decorated in baubles and small toys which your husbands students made for the two of you.

you glance around at the room, the lights that hung around the walls of the room, the tv blasting out 'Christmas hits', the chocolate selection box which had already been opened and was practically filled with wrappers placed on the armrest of the couch, the reef that hung over the cosy fireplace that warmed the chilly house up - everything was perfect.

but you were missing something - your husband.

after sighing, you decide to grab your phone, checking to see if he had responded yet but all you saw was the delivered checkmarks staring back at you. he will be on his way back, you think to yourself. flouncing around the living room to the kitchen, where you were making some cookies for the white haired man which wasn't Santa. grabbing a pair of oven gloves that had mistletoe printed onto, you pull the tray from the oven. the steam filling up your view, earning a small cough. "oh god," you breathe out, settling the fresh cookies on the counter.

you give yourself a small smile when looking over at the cookies, they looked perfect and you knew satoru would love them. sure they would all be gone the moment you showed them to him but that doesn't matter!

you hiss when trying to touch the boiling hot cookies, you had told yourself it was a bad idea but unfortunately you had anyways. you look at your finger that was the slightest pink, oh it doesn't even matter when your feeling this happy. you kick the oven door shut and move back into the living room - being smart and deciding to leave the cookies to cool down. you see a cinnamon candle was had been unused, just sat on the shelf all alone.

once finding your lighter, you set blaze to it, letting the wandering smell of light cinnamon fill out the room. letting it sit for a bit when you look at the flame dance around. "where is he." you grumble to yourself, maybe trying to distract yourself didn't work.

after yet another moment of silence from your phone, you slump down onto the couch. glancing over at the box of wrappers, shoving them off the arm of the sofa so your head can rest there.

scrolling through your phone for a while, head filled with the sounds of different people talking and singing through your phone while 'ill be home for Christmas' plays in the background.

20 minutes goes by, you decide to stop being so depressing and put your phone down, going over to the kitchen again. placing the perfect temperature cookies onto a plate with had little red bows decorating the edges. humming to yourself while filling up the cute plate. setting the warm cookies in a orderly fashion onto the plate, making them look absolutely perfect. andd look at that. there's one that doesn't fit, poor cookie.

you smile to yourself as you place a small section into your mouth. the warm cookie crumbles as you take a bite, crumbs falling down your chin. you almost groan at how godly they taste. fuck, satoru would absolutely love these.

hes still not here, you think again. he said he would be back by now.

he promised.

you wait for him, all night - you sit and wait. sat on the couch where he should he munching on your cookies. the cookies which were currently cold by now. the lights are turned off due to the timer and the tv was paused, sick of the endless jolly music.

Christmas eve soon ended and in came Christmas. that's when you heard a knock on your door, behind it showed you the teary faces of your husbands students.

[travelingthief]

Lord Apollo Devotional Post

Divination

Tarot/Oracle decks

Pendulums

Rune stones

Charm casting supplies

Crystal balls

Scrying bowls

All divination tools

Cookie fortunes

Tea leaves

Art

Paint brushes/paints

Canvases

Colored pencils/markers/crayons

Collages

Journals

Art books

Art prints

Anything you made

Sculptures 

Zines

Stickers

Any art supplies

Music

Music boxes

Records/CDs/Cassettes

Record players/radios/MP3 etc.

Headphones

Music posters

Band merch

Instruments/String instruments

Dance shoes

Concert tickets

CD book holders

Sun and Light

Sun imagery

Sunscreen

Aloe for sunburns

Golden objects

Matches

Candles

Sunflowers/sunflower seeds

Health and Healing

First aid kits

Medicine

Pain relievers

Band-aids

Ice/heat packs

Rice socks 

Masks

Aloe

Ambulance toy cars

Adaptive aids

Archery 

Darts

Bow and arrows

Arrow quiver

Dart board

Targets 

Bullseye 

Myth Related

Snake skins

Snake imagery (Python)

Laurels

Bay leaves (Daphne)

Palm trees (Birth myth)

Ravens/Crows 

Crow feathers (Why the crow is black)

Cattle/turtles (Hermes birth myth)

Swans (Pulled His chariot)

Hyacinths (Hyacinthus)

Locks of hair 

Food

Vanilla

Honey

Sunny D

Lemons/lemon juice

Oranges/orange juice

Citrus

Water

Devotional Acts

Health

Take your meds

Go to therapy

Exercise

Wear a mask (We are still in a pandemic y’all)

Get vaccinated

Get STI tested

Self care

Learn first aid/CPR

Keep a first aid kit at home/in your car

Learn about alternative medicine

Advocate for accessible healthcare

Advocate for disability rights

Volunteer at a hospital

Give blood/plasma

Volunteer at a retirement home

Learn about anatomy/biology/nutrition

Learn about health conditions/rare disorders

Eat healthy for your body

Help fund surgeries if you can

Trip sit for someone

Listen to your body

Sunlight

Sunbathe

Wear sunscreen

Start a garden

Make sun water

Open all the windows on a sunny day

Music

Go to a concert/show

Listen to music

Make a playlist for someone you love

Make a playlist for Apollo

Learn an instrument/play and instrument

Dance

Sing

Support local bands

Explore new music

Burn CDs

Divination/Prophecy

Daily tarot card/rune stones

Make an oracle deck

Give divination readings

Shadow work

Colormancy

Art

Make something

Draw/paint/craft

Write a poem/story

Color

Make a zine

Go see a play

Get a tattoo

Archery

Throw darts

Use a slingshot

Take up archery

Go to a shooting range

[minniebbang]

Photograph | L.Minho

pairing: idol!Minho x fem!reader summary: Just a date with Minho on his free days. word counts: 3k words genre/s: fluff & angst warning/s: a slight mention of illness and death. a/n: I presented to you, a story that have been sitting in my draft since the beginning of 2024. As always, please tell me what you think about it.

Oh, you can fit me

Inside the necklace, you got when you were sixteen

Next to your heartbeat where I should be

Keep it deep within your soul

A loud sneeze echoed throughout the dusty attic as the black-haired male pushed the boxes to the side of the crampy place, creating a path for him to descend deeper. The spider(which had been the permanent resident of the place) scurried away at the sound. He shook his head, arm covering his nose as he gazed around. The attic had been abandoned since they moved in, no wonder it had begun gathering dust. His dumb self forgot to wear a facemask before cleaning this place up, resulting in a never-ending saga of him sneezing like a cat. 

His face scrunched up and he stacked another box together. Pushing another box with his feet, he halted when he saw the title tape on the lid – a title that pulled his heartstrings and gave him a gust of memories he had considered nightmares. He sat on the floor, legs crossing each other as he removed the lid,  a wave of dust greeted him. He coughed as he threw the lid away. Printed pictures were scattered inside the box and he immediately recognized it was his pictures.  A tender smile made its way to his lips. He took out the camera, wiped the lens with his sleeve and positioned the camera toward a space. 

A flash blinded the area.

3 years ago

“Hey babe, look here”

Minho shut his eyes as a blinding light flashed toward him. He blinked before walking up to the culprit sitting on the couch. She smiled as she looked at the outcome.

“I swear you look perfect in every angle, min” She grumbled. Minho grinned cheekily and wrapped his arm around her waist. She took the opportunity to snap another picture of Minho and continued to grumble. Before she could remark another reply, Minho’s lips landed on hers. His hand found its way to her back, pulling her body closer to him. Her hands tangled themselves in his soft black hair as she held herself from letting the sound escape from the back of her throat but failed. His lip was hard to resist. He retreated and giggled as he saw her face flushed in a bright shade of red. 

“Stop grumbling or I will kiss you again” 

“If that’s my punishment, I won’t stop grumbling.” She pushed him off the couch and headed to the shared bedroom, ignoring Minho, who was wincing in pain on the floor. His hand reached for the camera and a chuckle stifled from his mouth as he pressed the button. The majority of the pictures were of him doing his daily routine. He admitted he wasn’t ready for any of the photos. Suddenly, something soft landed on his face, covering his view of the picture on display. He tore the material away from his vision, tilting his head as he glanced at the item on his lap. It was his hoodie.

“Can you take me to the photograph shop, please? I want to print this picture.” She spoke as she stuffed a cookie from the kitchen counter into her mouth and headed to the main door. Minho quickly put on the hoodie and rushed after her, not forgetting the camera. He turned off the camera but stopped; his ears turned red at the realisation of the picture. He quickly shook his head and closed the door. 

Minho unchained his bicycle and without any invitation, she settled on the back seat. 

“Come on! It's always me who rides this bicycle for you”

��Well, I did it last time and it didn’t go as you planned.”

He stared at the ground momentarily, gathering pieces of his memory of the said days. He looked back at her with an expression of agreement.

“Right, I don’t want to come back home with bruises. Let’s go then!” With a firm grip on the handlebar, he hoisted himself onto the bicycle seat.  His right foot stayed on the ground as he pulled her loosened hands together. The camera had exchanged hands.

“Hold on tight. I’m fine with returning home bruised but refuse to see you with any injury.”

She let out a light chuckle. Balancing the bicycle delicately, he swung his other leg over and set off from their house. The gentle breeze of the evening washed over them, hairs blew everywhere on their faces. The rustling from the leaves accompanies the ride. The crisp air filled her lungs as Minho picked up his speed; occasionally, she greeted the neighbour strolling around the small neighbourhood. He let go of one of his hands to hold her hand.

“We should do this often. It’s fun.” she rested her head on his broad back, eyes folding.

“Anything that makes you happy, baby.” 

He pulled over next to the photography shop. He placed both feet down and let her enter before parking the bicycle in front of the store. When he set foot inside, his eyes immediately trailed around the four-corner shop. The wall was plain white, and some black-and-white framed pictures of the same couple and similar children hung on one side of the shop. There was a blue door on the other side—it stood out due to its out-of-place colour in his eyes.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you again!” The owner beamed at her with a small smile. The man was in his late years, with silver hair and rounded-shaped glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He always wore an attire that reminded her of those kindergarten kids. Minho stood by her side and bowed his head politely to the man. So, the pictures were of the owner and his wife.

“Oh, uncle, this is my boyfriend, Lee Minho.” 

“It’s good to see you, young man. You’re more handsome than in the pictures”

“Huh?” It came involuntarily from Minho’s lips, and she instantly threw her gaze to the side, cheeks feeling warmer, unlike the cold wind inside the store. 

“Uncle I want to print out a new set of pictures today if you don’t mind” She cleared her throat, blocking any questions from tumbling out of his lips. He glanced at her, cocking his brows as she handed the camera to the old man. Her eyes flickered momentarily toward him, lips pressing jointly as she ran her eyes over his face to look at his confused state. 

“Of course, darling. I’ll call you if they are ready” The man slowly shuffled to the wooden door beside him, the door softly thudding behind him as he disappeared from her vision. 

“What is that all about, Y/N?” 

She hummed, lazily shrugging her shoulders. Taking his hand into hers, she pulled him to the blue door. Behind that striking coloured door was the small cafe next door, the smell of fresh pastry and coffee wafted in the air. Contrasting from the shop they were in, beige dominated the wall and the cafe was bathed in the evening glow from the sun sipping through the large window beside the entrance. A couple of feet away from the window, a glass shelf displaying a variety of pastries was placed and connected to the cashier's table. 

Behind the shelves stood a familiar woman. Her lips turned into a wide smile that reached her eyes as she waved at them. Without Minho realising it, he had already met the woman eye-to-eye.

Ah, it was the man’s wife.

“Ah, Minho, right?” Was the first thing that escaped her lips once she saw his face. He nodded shyly and tucked her hand closer to his side, her head unconsciously was on his chest. A light giggle bubbled out of her noticing his rapid heartbeat.

 Why did the couple know him and he didn’t? 

“She always complains to me how perfect you are whenever she gets pictures from Mr Kim.” 

“Why is everybody trying to expose me today?” She whispered, her voice falling into an incoherent sound, regretting her decision to bring him along. The woman chuckled and left the counter, swiftly filling up the tray with the usual pastries she would order. She also sneaked a pudding for Minho, remembering the girl mentioning it was his favourite in one of her rambling sessions with the woman.

Minho glanced at her as she raised her chin, his black boba eyes staring back at her. 

“You have a lot to explain, baby” His voice carried a hint of teasing as the corner of his lips raised. Although he was smirking, the tenderness underneath his eyes betrayed his playfulness.

“I believe I don’t need to. You’ll find out about it later anyway” She undetached herself from him and handed the woman the money but he immediately grabbed her hand. Surprised, she turned her head around, finding him shaking his head as he snatched the money from her grip.

“Let me spoil you today”

“Does this have anything to do with my secret?” 

“Do I never spoil my baby?”  How typical of him to answer her question with another question. After a quick thank you, he dragged her to a vacant seat while his other hand carefully carried the tray with his other hand.

They sat across each other, plates of different pastries laid between them, its sweet aroma lingering around them. His eyes doubled in size as soon as he noticed the pudding cup along with the cream puff and cake, eliciting a fit of chuckle from his lover. 

“Why with that face?” 

“N-nothing! Just surprised they have pudding here”  He reached for the plate and took the spoon, scoping the jingling substance. He positioned the spoon toward her, gesturing for her to take the first bite but she held his hand and fed him instead. His delightful hum and small dance caused her heart to overflow with adoration. She watched him go for another bite before digging into the cake. 

They exchanged bites, hands intertwining as they shared stories from their previous days. It felt like their usual dates but Minho’s reassuring grip on her interpreted something else – something that neither of them dared to voice it. Later, their drink arrived along with a medium-sized envelope, her camera and a picture frame. She thanked the waitress and glanced at Minho with a tender smile.

She unsealed the envelope, placing its contents on the table and almost immediately her cheeks coloured red when Minho saw the printed film pictures. Sure, it was nothing to be embarrassed about since it was their pictures but the latter didn’t know this little hobby of hers.

“This is your secret?” 

She nodded meekly and a soft smile painted his features – the smile she always doted on. He pushed the desserts away and browsed through the other pictures.

“It’s cute! Why do you never tell me?”

“Because you might tease the hell out of me about it.” Her lips formed a pout and seconds later, she felt his lips collide softly with hers briefly. He pulled away and sat beside her, taking the frame out of her lap as she snapped out of her daze.

She punched his shoulder, mumbling something under her breath before snatching a roll small of tape from her bag.

“Anyway…what’s with this frame?”

“I’m making a memory frame so I can look at it when you’re far away from me.”

Tearing a bit of the tape, she stuck one of the pictures onto the canvas – a picture of them in the backstages after his concert, his hand playfully grabbing her head while she had her tongue stuck out. His mouth shaped an O and she placed the tape in front of him, silently directing him to take care of the tape.

Minutes passed and the frame slowly filled with their pictures, constant teasing and recounting of memories became their companion. The blossomed flowers – that was their love – flourished in the garden. Moments like these were what Minho cherished, away from the hectic idol life and closer to his lover.

“Why did you start taking an interest in photography, anyway?” He asked mindlessly as he passed the last tape to her. Her action halted momentarily, her heart hammered slightly louder against the wall of her ribcage.

“I realised I don’t have anything to keep my precious memories. Knowing how long I was going to live, life suddenly turned precious. Maybe I’m taking my health for granted that I think keeping the memories in my phone is enough.” 

Oh, he almost forgot about her illness. The very thing was consuming her alive while they spent time together. It stood as a barrier to their future.

Was it his fault to let that fact embedded in his mind and never resurface back?

“Minho?” She turned her head around and was met with his head burying into her chest, his arm hugging her waist loosely. 

“I’m sorry” was barely heard from him as his voice was muffled by her shirt. 

“It’s alright, baby” She rested her chin on top of his head, leaving kisses on his hair to comfort him. She knew how he hated hearing those truths, it pained him further when she said that without any sign of breaking down as if she had accepted that death would welcome her soon.

His arm vibrated, indicating an incoming call from her phone yet he didn’t move. With a hand wrapped around his head, she took the phone from her pocket and hastily answered it. All while Minho was fighting with the sting in his eyes. 

The call ended quickly.

“Hey, my parents are at our home. Let’s go back” She whispered and reluctantly he distanced himself, bottom lips chewed as he picked up the completed picture frame and her hand. She followed him and bid goodbye to the old woman.

“Please hold it for me, I can’t ride while holding this” He spoke, trying to hide his true emotions in his forced tone. The frame ended up squished between them as Minho paddled his way back home, the heavy atmosphere was crashing into their shoulder. It felt nothing like the ambience they were in while going to the shop. He paddled faster when he couldn’t bear the bleeding in his heart any longer.

Soon, a familiar silver car greeted Minho’s vision. He pressed the brake behind the car and the car’s door creaked open. Her dad emerged from it, and later her mother would too. Minho rested his bicycle on the roadside, offering a smile that he could force toward her dad.

She had gone into the house to fetch her things and returned to stuff them into the passenger's seat. Her dad observed Minho and watched how his eyes turned red and his chest rumbled as his daughter filled her last things into the car. She returned to Minho’s side afterwards, arm looping with his.

“Will I be able to follow her, sir?” He asked, a dry lump forming in his throat. Swallowing it would take his whole breath away.

“Don’t, Minho. You can’t risk your career because of her”

“I’ll risk my life for her if I need to, sir” 

“Minho, think about your future, please. I’ll take care of her.”

Y/N let go of his arm and hugged him. That was it, his final string.

He wrapped his arm around her figure, choked sobs escaping him as salty tears flowed down into her hair. He buried his face in her head, inhaling her scent, which reminded him of autumn days—crushed dry leaves and flowers—that would slowly fade from his home. He clenched her shirt tightly, afraid that if he loosened his grip, he would forget how she felt in his arms.

“Don’t worry, min. My dad will update you about the treatment. It’ll go well,” She had said to comfort him, but it seemed like she was soothing herself, too. The possibility of recovering from the sickness was almost impossible, but a thin hope remained underneath them.

He lifted her chin and pressed his lips into hers, probably for the last time. Cradling her cheeks, he poured the unspoken words through the kiss. His tears stained her cheeks but she didn’t bother.

“Take care of yourself for me, mhm?” He said after the kiss, staring deeply into her eyes, which seemed to reflect the light. 

“I will. Take care of yourself while I’m not here. Don’t you dare cheat on me!” She pointed an accusing finger toward him which succeeded in bringing out a short chuckle from him. She headed to the car, waving goodbye with a smile before disappearing into the car.

“Until we meet again, Y/N”

Current day

“It's still work?!” He exclaimed as he took a look at the picture. He hummed as he closed back the lid, the camera stayed in his hand.

“Min? Where are you? Dinner’s ready!” A woman’s voice broke through the quiet air of the attic, followed by footsteps approaching him. The footsteps stopped beside him, a hand rested on his shoulder as the figure kneeled.  

He averted his view toward the silhouette — the love of his life.

“The camera still works, baby. Why did you keep it?”

Her eyes widened, those eyes he will never get tired of staring at or complimented on. A pendant he had gifted her after she returned was resting on her collarbone.

“I thought I lost it! Minjun will love this!” 

“She would” He adjusted his body to face her, bending a bit far from her and snapped a picture — like how she would when they were younger.

“Thank you for coming back. I think I didn't get the chance to tell you that yet” His gentle gaze met hers as he reached for her hand to squeeze it. Although years had passed, his gaze still held the love she knew — it bloomed even more after Minju birth. The pictures scattered in the box were evidence of their eternal love.

“Thank you for waiting for me, min"