#second is bc she is more of old-fashioned

[kawaimoonshine]

Have a sneakaboo cuz why not

I have this silly lil comic idea of how Evelyn's eyes works (and voice?) that features Alastor, though he might be a bit OOC but oh well

This is the first panel and I got carried away 🙃 I haven't even started with the second panel

She's so PRETTY AH 😩 my bisexual ass is screaming ✨ this will be my pfp lol (it's about time I change it)

[faaun]

How was your date with the butch? Have you had your two exams? Hope you do well!!<33

hi hi omg i forgot how much i updated u guys but the first date was great and the second date was also great and we held hands and then i started panicking abt my exams and she had a dissertation deadline so i havent seen her in a while 😭 i miss her but she is TERRIBLE at texting but hopefully will see her soon !!

did 1 exam the other one is tmrw we are NOT sleeping tn once again !!! wish me luckkk + ty for asking i hope ur days have been filled w comfort and joy !!!

[hiddenbeks]

u ever think abt ur ocs in a fighting game au,,

[the-acid-pear]

A good chunk of my dream today was spent on a bus traveling with my dad where after a very long while of being annoyed by an old woman an old classmate whose face and voice i remember but his name i don't encouraged me to tell her, and tell her i did. At first i started speaking formally but by the end I snapped and i was straight up screaming about how she's annoying and i hate to see her face every time i get on this goddamn bus and it was time someone told her these things. There wasn't a reaction from anyone because i was waking up tho so the dream fell apart before my own eyes.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 3 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments on the couch

warnings (TW): mdni, contains mature/suggestive content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

tags: mature/suggestive content (in act iii), fluff, early relationship described, pining, affection

notes: please note that there is heavily implied/suggestive/mature content in act iii of this posting (after the second break)- if you do not wish to interact with this type of content i swear to you you can completely skip it if you like, i attempt to not tie TOO much significance to the written scene- and if you would prefer that the postings stray away from this kind of content i will attempt to better balance it in the future! i am in no shape or form a very “smutty” writer (mainly bc i have never written it), so i hope the scene isnt like… terrible ya know lol (also i don’t consider it much for “smut”- i am def using said word very loosly). annnnyyywayyys hope you enjoy and as always my dms are open for suggestions in the future and general conversation and encouragement! enjoy!

also to note! I believe the story is best read in order- i put certain dependences on certain words and bring descriptions back to really solidify the importance of certain scenes/interactions ! but completely up to you, lol

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked the up to date masterlist for this series- thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

| masterlist | part iv |

She had caught him sleeping on the couch in the early heat of June. 

They had a late night on the couch, discussing Ford’s margin notes and rewatching The Price is Wrong. Stan had a certain affinity for price matching, and she was more than a little stunned to learn of it the first couple of months they resided in the shack together. 

She just didn’t expect this 30-year-old man to know the price of most common household appliances. 

After his divulgence last month, in which he had confided a little bit of his background in sales, she began to piece together that although Stan considered himself a conman in every way but words, she considered it pure brilliance. 

So she quickly got used to late-night T.V. shows, as they discussed next steps back and forth, with Stan interrupting conversations to yell out extremely accurate prices at the small box T.V. in front of the couch. It had grown on her, actually, and had turned rather… endearing. 

If not also incredibly hilarious, as he was so passionate about his own accuracy he usually forgot his volume, and sometimes took to ranting at her. 

“Hun! Hun! This is a load of malarkey I tell ya! That vacuum price is way too high! It don’t even come with added nozzle attachments!” 

She would laugh, and he would revel in making her do so. 

They had concluded the night in a similar fashion, and she had stumbled up to her bedroom. The first one on the right from the stairs. But he had lingered in the living room, muttering about tidying up some soda cans and taking the trash out quickly. 

She had shrugged it off, giving her goodnight, and made her way up the stairs. She had fallen asleep so quickly, she hadn’t heard the usual meandering steps of Stan as he made for his own room across the hall from her. 

She almost never woke up before him, another thing that surprised her. She figured he was the type to doze in and out in the early morning, but he seemed to be quick to rise and even quicker to make a pot of coffee, usually stumbling down the stairs thirty minutes before she could manage to roll out of bed. 

So she thought it odd to look down the stairs and not see the usual kitchen light on, and the usual grumble of the shitty coffee machine either. 

She found him snoring on his back, the throw blanket she had brought with her half on half off him. It had grown a little muggy in the shack, due to the distinct lack of central air, but Stan’s solution seemed to be very simple. 

Just wear less clothes. 

Something that wouldn’t disturb her in the slightest, if it were not for, well… Stan. 

She was a scientist, a usual logical thinker, and only slightly prude (due to her upbringing), but she was no idiot, and she knew the man she was cohabitating with was attractive. 

I mean, he was also funny- made her laugh more times than she could count. He was oddly sincere for his age and even more oddly protective. He was flippantly affectionate and even more flippantly kind to her. 

And he was also shirtless. 

Something she takes note of instantly, instinctually. Whipping her head to make for the kitchen, and trying to forget the curve of his broad shoulders and the slight swell of his stomach. The smattering of dark hair on his chest all the way down to the crisp edge of the boxers she had folded two days ago. 

Coffee, coffee coffee! 

She didn’t make as good of a cup as he did, she had never had to before. Something he scoffed at, but quickly took to doing himself. He made it every morning, now. Always up before her, with her mug waiting for her by her worn kitchen chair. 

She turned to the stove instead, moving pans and turning on the burner. She’d make breakfast for them instead of her shitty burnt coffee special. Pulling eggs and bacon out of the small fridge she went to work. 

The smell woke him up, and she noted his groggy fumbling to redress himself. Glancing out the archway from kitchen to living room she watched him pass to the stairs, still shirtless. He takes the stairs two at a time, back up to his room to retrieve new clothes she presumed. 

He returns in minutes, in typical fashion it took him not too long to get ready in the morning. 

He walks in, still stretching, with hair muddled from sleep. A pair of work jeans that had seen a lot of love in the past month, and a shirt that was quickly growing too tight around his arms and shoulders. She decided to ignore that sliver of stomach that peaked out when he raised his arms a little too high, otherwise, the bacon would burn. 

He made his way to the coffee machine, beginning the usual morning routine as it spurred to life. Moving to the sink he began washing their shared mugs. 

Breakfast was always a little quiet like they both couldn’t be bothered to open their mouths beyond sating their appetite. They still moved the same, instinctually and without words. Falling into their unassigned assigned seats, Stan moving to grab her feet and drag them across his lap, while she moved the salt and pepper between them both. She always reached across to his plate, grabbing his toast to butter first and then moving to her own. 

She had decided to interrupt their usual silence this morning, looking across to Stan as he fumbled with the morning paper. He always went straight to the comics in the morning, hoping to pick up on a joke to read to her that day, hoping to make her laugh first before anything else in the morning. 

But she had thrown a wrench in his usual plan (that she still hadn’t picked up on yet). 

“Why were you on the couch?” She asked, biting around her toast. 

“It’s cooler down here hun.” 

“I know heat rises Stan, but the sun rises on my side of the house in the morning. It ain’t that hot upstairs yet. Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

When first rearranging rooms he had resolved to take Stanford's old one. He didn’t want her to have to live in the shell his brother had left behind. His more intimate nick-nacks and sticky notes had been scattered around what is now Stan’s room. Along with his random mismatched socks and sweater vests, and his cologne. And he didn’t want to think about having her live around the last remnants of Stanford, because she got this weird look in her eyes already when she retraced his brother's writings and he couldn’t stand it. He had lived with Stanford for eighteen years, and sometimes entering the room was at least therapeutic. 

Except Stanford always had a weird affinity for sleeping on the ground. 

It’s the main reason Stanley even had the top bunk during their preteen years to begin with, because Stanford would find himself stiff on the floor most mornings. His brother had a tendency to doze away on any hard surface he could rest his head on, starting at his desk most nights, moving to his bed, but usually rolling off it in favor of the floor. Stanford was… not one for restful sleep. And his hard ass mattress showed it. 

“Ya.” Stan muttered behind the newspaper. “‘Ford trying to fuck my back up from another dimension.” 

“You can have my bed?” She offered up her own mattress, one she had splurged on with her own money. He still remembers her playing Goldilocks that day at the flash mattress sale she had circled in the classifieds the week before. 

He shook his head at the memory, them both laying side by side on each bed as she had discussed odds and ends. She had argued that she needed approximately 5 minutes on each mattress to sink into each, and that she couldn’t be intrinsically thinking about her comfort when doing so. So she had him lay beside her and talk to her, as she flipped from her back to her side testing out her comfort and considered the gravelness of his voice. Until she had landed on the right bed, the tenth one, declaring it her perfect match as she looked over at him beside her. 

“Nah, I can’t take your perfect match, hun, your one true love.” He joked, folding up the newspaper with the comics up, setting it aside in favor of looking at her. “Besides my bed is fine for now. I just… sometimes I like being close to the door.” 

She hummed. “I can rearrange the living room today? Do you want to move your bed downstairs?” She hadn’t even questioned it, still searching for something to sate his comfort. 

He laughed at this, he would never let her rearrange things without him and she knew it. He had hovered something harsh those first three months, moving around most things for her as she pointed from object to object. 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I just, I ain’t used to sleeping in a room without a straight way out of it yet.” He admits, munching on his bacon, shrugging like he was discussing the weather. “So sometimes I just, sleep on the couch. No big deal.” 

She sits back in her seat, shock marring her face. He had spent so long hopping from place to place she had forgotten he hadn’t had a place to call home in a decade- besides his car. Something that may have four walls, but had no heart. 

Hotels, to cars, to floors of shelters, he had slept in questionable places for far too long, and in some cases Stanford’s room sometimes felt like a new prison, or at least reminded him of a certain Colombian one. Except this one contained taunting memories and a stupid amount of sweaters. 

It hurt more, to open his door to find hers closed, for some reason. He didn’t like the thought of her trapped either, nestled in a part of the house he couldn’t get to. But he didn’t know how to voice this to her without sounding mad in a way. Or obsessive maybe. 

She digs her toes into the junction of his ribs, grabbing his attention. She’s smiling across from him, and standing before he can ask why. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him up the stairs to their own parallel doors, not even hesitating to walk through the door Stanford used to call his own. 

She’s muttering under her breath as he stands in the doorway, landlocked by witnessing her in this exact space for some reason. She moves to the window, opening it all the way and fumbling with the screen. She gets it off and makes to climb out the window before he can protest. 

“If you want a way out, you got it right here!” She grunts, footing her way through to the shingled roof, his protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Get the fuck back in here!” He leans out, making to grab her. “Ain’t no way this shack's roof is any good!” 

She prances around, slightly mocking him by moving away from his waving arm. “Stan! It’s fine!” She laughs, the sun shining on her figure. Suddenly serious she stops, hands on her hips. “Seriously, if you need a way out, keep the window open, okay?” 

She crawls back through the window a moment later, using Stan’s hand as a weight as she balances back on the wooden floor. 

Still serious, she continues, “Stan if you need to keep the window open, you can keep the door open also if you feel like it.” 

She smiles like she has a brilliant idea, moving across the hall she opens her own room to display her own mess of things. “I can keep mine open also if it helps.” 

How the fuck had she read his mind? He was continually dumbfounded by her unquantifiable amounts of patience she had for him. Like it was a reserve she tapped into, to specifically deal with all his dumb bullshit. He would let it pile in the back of his head, but she’d reach back in and shake him awake, present him with a solution, and he forgets himself in his need to question “why?”. 

He had taken too long to respond, and she stands in the hall, hands wringing her too large t-shirt and looking surprisingly bashful. “Is this okay?” She asks, is this what you need? Vying for his approval as she continues. “Because really I don’t mind you sleeping on the couch, I really don’t, you can keep doing it if you like! Really! I just… I just…” 

Unspoken between them, he already knew. She meant well, she meant the best actually. She wanted him to be comfortable, here, with her. Wanted him to stop moving from place to place in the house because no where felt right because it all felt like a trap. Wanted him to know the four walls they shared could never be a prison, and that she didn’t want him to hop around anymore searching and clawing his way out of it. To not have to Goldilocks around the house, because across the hall from her had to be just right. 

And it was. Because she had read his mind as usual, and he was almost tired of being absolutely astounded by it. 

He nodded, smiling across from her, his confirmation in the squeeze he gave her hand as he reached for her again, and in the ruffling of her hair he gave her as he slipped from the house later. Making his way outside to his work, somehow lighter than usual.

They ended up on the couch most weekends, or at least most Saturday nights. 

She had insisted, against his better nature, that it was not appropriate to drink yourself into a stupor on a weekday. So he had gotten used to the shared moments on the weekend, routinely looking forward to shitty VHS movies and even shittier boxed wine and beer. 

She laughed at fucking everything when she was drunk. He almost wondered if she had ever been high, or if she even needed to be. He might as well be a stand up comedian most weekends, because if he thought he had a great audience Monday through Friday, well he had an even more endearing one on the weekends. 

It was a hot July night, and she had scoffed at his light beer that resided in the back of the fridge. Tisking at him as she danced around the kitchen, pouring sweet red wine into mugs (their only cups), and shooing him back to the couch. Only wine in the summer, only wine when it was this hot.

And it was hot, and humid, unsurprising for Oregon really. So hot in fact, that she had decided pjs were appropriate attire for the night, luckily for him. So he shed his jeans in favor of loose boxers and a well worn shirt. Unluckily for him, she had decided upon much the same wardrobe, which was odd for her and only uncomfortable for sober him. 

But he wasn’t sober anymore, and he had to admit she was rather enchanting hunched over on the couch, laughing at his shitty jokes with one of his old band t-shirts on, shorts that she made no indication of even owning, bagging up around the tops of her thighs. 

He had been intoxicated on numerous amounts of things, nothing, of course, too hard or addictive per say, but it’d be the first time he was this drunk on wine. 

And it was… different. 

He had scoffed at the movie she chose originally tonight. She always chose the second movie, and he chose the first. They had a habit of in depth discussing during films, especially when more intoxicated. 

But he had never been so incredibly invested in a romantic comedy in his entire life, he blamed his company and the alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that he thinks he stands a chance with the likes of her! She’s sacrificed so much! Her jobs on the line here and he won’t even consider marrying her for a green card!” He yelled, just about jumping at the screen. This man in the movie was ridiculous, demanding things from his assistant and throwing her away the next. 

She ran back into the room, mugs full with their next round. She had become the bartender tonight, waiting on him and grabbing snacks when he’d ask in exchange for rubbing her aching shoulders. 

“What did I miss!” She rushed back, handing him his mug and taking her seat back in front of him on the floor, her throw blanket being used as a cushion. 

He takes a sip, setting the mug aside her own on the floor and moving back to place his hands on her tense shoulders. 

“She’s being kicked out of the country right in front of her boss and he ain’t gonna do anything about it! She basically does everything for this man, why doesn’t he see he needs her?” 

She groans below him, her head rocking back as she takes her own drink. “Are we gonna discuss the intricates of them having a relationship though? I love marriage of convenience, don’t get me wrong, but that’s her boss! Isn’t there a weird power dynamic here?” 

“Oh ya!” He agrees, nodding along as his fingers began to dig into her muscles. “We gotta talk about that because if this gets creepy we gotta pick out a different one. He’s already pissing me off!” 

She looks up at him, eyes glowing with an idea. Enchanted, she moves away from him, crawling to the cabinet beside the T.V., and he really swears that he tries to look away. But he also reasons that it’ll be a while before he gets the chance to see her in shorts again. And fuck. 

She turns back, a new VHS in hand. “This!” She exclaims. “Now this is my favorite rom-com!” 

A shitty picture is well worn on the front of the movie sleeve, a VHS he doesn’t recognize from the donation bin sitting in her hands. She must have brought it with her, and she must have had it for a while. 

She crawls forward, movie in hand and a bright, flushed smile on her face. 

“Please, please, please Stanley! This one!” She all but yelled as she leaned up into him. His legs had already been parted to accommodate her sitting in front of him, but now were warm with her torso between them, as she crawled into his lap, movie still in hand and smile still on her face. She leaned up onto his chest, a fake pout on her lips as she looked up at him. 

He forgot himself for a minute, excusing her silently for calling him Stanley in her drunken plee. His hand finding her waist as he answered. 

“Okay, okay!” He snorted. “Better be a better love interest because this guy sucks.” 

He missed her as soon as she left, but his heart still felt something sick when she yelled victoriously on the ground, hand raised in celebration, movie clutched to her chest. Rolling from her current position to the VHS player and popping out the current horrendous movie. All the while she giggled, and he followed in much the same manner. Laughing while running his hand through his hair, trying to soothe himself to forget her warmth. 

She crawled back to him (fuck) settling back into his knees from her position on the ground. The title screen flashed, but he was much too busy watching it illuminate her face. Heart sick again when she leaned her head all the way back, hair across his knees and thighs, she smiles up at him, a thank you on her lips. Clutching his mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips for a sip before passing it up to him too. 

And when he carried her to bed that night he wondered when the tight sickness would leave him. He never closed either of their doors. 

It didn’t happen like this, that night. 

Not from what he could remember anyway, but he felt too groggy to care about accuracy and too intoxicated by the image of her to care much for what was right. 

Her hands had continued up his thighs from her place knelt in front of him, his back hot against the living room couch. She had climbed up on top of him, creeping up to sit on his knees and thighs like she had been there before. Her smile turned sweet into something twisted as she leaned in close to his face, the closest she had ever gotten to it. Whispering something between the heat between the two of them, something lost on him, as he tried to lean closer, tried to bridge the gap between their chests, aching to feel her against the very front of him. 

He knew it was different because she had never worn this in front of him before, at least willingly. He had caught her in the middle of the night, stumbling from her open bedroom door to the bathroom down the hall, panties striped and endearing on her ass. He had seen them in the washer, had seen her fold them and tuck them away. And she was in them, sitting on his fucking lap. 

His hands made for her, reaching behind her and dragging her close, his fingers edging the back of the band of her striped panties. 

She gasps like she does when she’s happy for him, always jumping from her position on the couch cheering along with him when he gets a stupid fucking The Price is Wrong answer right. 

And it’s how he imagined it, fuck, how he was currently dreaming of her noises. In bits and pieces he could remember, his brain scrambling to paint an image of her wanting him.  

Her hands edge along the back of his head, running through his long hair, and tracing to the front along his jaw. Mouth open, her fingers glide along the bottom of his lip, teasing. 

She whispers again, closer now. Her chest heaving against his own, her ass waits precariously positioned above right where he dreamt of her being. Right along the space he places her feet every morning, right where he thought she may kill him.

He catches it this time, between them. Her voice wavering like it had that day in the car when she had apologized for calling him him. He thought of begging for it, allowing her to say his name, but she had read his mind like she always fucking managed to do. 

“Please, Stanley.” 

He had surged forward like his own tidal wave, meeting her in the hot space between them. But he could only imagine a kiss with her, dream of it here. 

He imagined it slow, and building. Imagined her hesitation and the pout of her lip between his fucking teeth, imagined her moan when he eventually came back for more. 

Her hands pulled at his fucking hair, the only time she had placed them there to harm, and he groaned as she pulled him forward, meeting again in the middle of the heat they shared there on the couch. She moaned, her hips rushing to his own, making a new heat between them. 

The friction between them was the same as the kiss, slow and building. Grinding herself in the curve of his lap, right where they both needed each other. Every pass slightly faster, every groan from her more imagined, more unreal. 

The pressure felt real though, and her fingers in his hair felt even more so. His head thrown back on the couch, he looked down his nose at her, a groan leaving his throat as she makes a home in his shoulder, as her hips cause waves against his fucking lap. 

Her breath is hot on his neck, something real, and her echoing noises move up his shoulder to his ear and it makes him hotter than he could imagine. Her groans come to a precipice, getting higher in octave and volume and she thinks to fucking bite him there, right on his shoulder. 

The image she makes shakes him, his hands remembering where they are on her ass and hips, as he makes to work them harder, to somehow bring her closer and harder to the crook of his boxers. Her teeth nestle into him, and it makes him groan more, her hot breath and aching moans reverb off his skin back to him. 

It sends him reeling forward, his own head rushing off the back of the couch, groaning in heat, moving in blind passion. His head rests against the top of her own, his big hands digging into the fat of her behind, finger creeping in through the top of her panties. 

“Fuck.” He groans between them. “Fuck, honey.” His hips canting up, her moans echoing again, her teeth unlaching, like she can’t ground herself to him anymore, because all the movement is him now. He’s fucking using her, the pressure hot, and she peels back to look at him, a heat in her eyes he can’t have imagined. He must have seen it before, marring her face. He had, he swears, seen her with this heat in her eyes before.

He was using her. 

It stops just as abruptly as it began, and he wakes to his discomfort. His room is cool despite the morning sun, the curtains by his windows billowing out with September wind. His door wide open, and his hand curled around something that no longer needed relief. 

His other hand, clutching his hair in a fist. The back of his head tender from the pressure, and his fingers heavy from sleep. 

He got up quicker than usual, his heart still pounding oddly in his chest as he attempted to catch a breath he didn’t remember losing. On his way out of his room, dresssed for the day, he peaks into her parallel room, her door wide open like it was every day now. 

He groans low, she’s wearing the fucking stripes. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day, tries not to be disgusted with himself, but his chest aches something odd and his stride is somehow uneven for the rest of the day. His heart carries something sickly when he sees her that day, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt he’s oddly quiet that day, or that he doesn’t read her the morning comics like usual. 

She thinks it has something to do with how flushed he is, when she catches his staring that evening, as they sit beside each other on the couch, T.V. echoing in the background.

[wcnderlnds]

you and i | peter maximoff

・❥・ summary: peter loves his daughter very much and wants another one ・❥・word count: 1.9k ・❥・warnings: 18+ smut, nsfw. unprotected p in v. swearing. female reader. ・❥・ authors note: we all love dilf!peter so i tried. the smut is badly written pls be gentle im still trying to get more confident writing it. also i went with katya for the name bc always headcanon his family is from europe/sokovia.

Never in a million years did Peter think he’d ever settle down. He’d always thought of himself as a loner – someone who would be happy by himself for the rest of his life and he had no problem with that. Commitment had always been something that he feared. Maybe it was something to do with his dad leaving his mom before he was even born. He’d never had a good father figure to look up to when it came to… well, anything. All the people around him had severely unhealthy relationships so he never wanted to be a part of one himself. Peter would much rather hook up than settling down and being unhappy with someone. As much as there was some part of him that idolised his father, he never wanted to be like him. Being a let down was one of Peter’s worst fears. All he wanted to do was make sure his mom and sisters were taken care of. If he was doing that then he was doing something right. He didn’t need a relationship or another person to make him happy.

That was until he met you.

It had been a chance encounter at the arcade. You had been occupying his favourite Donkey Kong machine. There were others but that one was his. So, annoyed, he leaned against one of the other machines with arms across his chest obnoxiously blowing a bubble with his gum. When you finally did step away, he ran over quicker than you could even say Donley Kong to get his machine back letting out a loud ‘what the fuck’ when he saw that you’d beat his high score. Peter had tried for the whole day to get his name back at the top but it was no use. As you tried walking out of the arcade, he had caught up to you bombarding you with questions about how you'd done it and if you’d cheated. All you’d done was smile and tell him it was a secret. That was enough to keep him hooked. Day after day the two of you would meet at the arcade. Peter would find himself seeking you out. When he’d started to get little heart flutters every time you smiled at him or any time you’d beat him at a game, he freaked out. Feelings like that weren’t something he was used to. In fact, he’d never had feelings quite like it before. It was all new to him.

Over time he had come to accept that you had won his heart. Somehow, someway you had wormed your way in there and he couldn’t get enough of you. All he wanted to do was spend every second with you. The relationship had blossomed so naturally – it all came so easy to him. Being with you felt like heaven, it made him the happiest he’d ever felt in his life. He had convinced himself so much that he didn’t need anyone but himself but he did. He needed you and he wouldn’t live the rest of his life without you. So, he had proposed at the arcade where the two of you had first met. It wasn’t overly romantic but it was Peter coded and that was more than you could’ve asked for.

Now, two years on, the two of you were married with a two year old daughter. Peter had taken to being a dad like it was the easiest thing in the world. He was so fun and caring. There wasn’t anything he’d do for his little girl. Katya was his whole world.

“Oh sh-” Peter instantly stopped knowing if you heard him swearing in front of your kid, you’d kick his ass. “...shizzle.” As he’d walked into the room, he’d noticed that Katya had drawn all over the wall with crayon.

To be fair, that had been his fault. You’d told him before you left for work to put the crayons out of reach because Katya was in her ‘destruction’ era and wanted to draw on any and every surface she could get her hands on. In true Peter fashion, though, he’d been distracted. The newest Pac Man game had his attention. He just had to beat it before you did because - he’d never admit this - you were better than him. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with you in the first place.

But, right now, he had to clean this shit off the walls before you got home and gave him the scolding of a lifetime. “Alright, baby girl, come here.”

Katya grinned instantly dropping the crayons as Peter crouched down in front of her. With wobbly legs, she got to her feet and slowly toddled into his arms. He picked her up, holding her tight to him. Her little smile was enough to almost make him put her back down and let her carry on showing her artistic skills on every wall in the house.

“You’re gonna get me in sooooo much trouble, Kitty Kat,” he booped her little nose to which she grabbed his finger between her small ones. It was enough to melt anyone’s heart. He placed her in her crib with promises of snacks once he’d got the walls all cleaned up.

It was a few hours later when you got back home. The house was oddly quiet. Usually you’d come home to the sounds of Peter chasing Katya around the house or him teaching her naughty words that he definitely shouldn’t be teaching her but there was nothing. That made you slightly worried. Your footsteps on the wooden floors echoed off the walls as you peeped into your daughter's room but she was fast asleep in her crib. So, where was Peter?

When you walked into your bedroom, you spotted him easily. His mess of silver hair could be spotted a mile away. He was sprawled out on the bed, his face buried in the pillows, limbs spread out all over the place. It brought a smile to your face. Careful not to wake him, you sat on the edge of the bed, running your fingers gently through his hair.

“Feels good,” he mumbled sleepily into the pillows. Sometimes you forgot how much of a light sleeper he was.

“Hey sleepy head,” you greeted him, kicking your shoes off to lay on the bed beside him. Peter’s head turned slightly to see you. His tired eyes meeting yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Even now years later, he was still the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His dark brown eyes, his perfect nose and the stubble that adorned his face was enough to make any person melt. It was still mind blowing that this man was yours.

“Your daughter is a menace,” he wrapped his arms around you, rolling over to pull you onto his chest.

“She gets that from you.”

“Nuh-uh, you.”

“Definitely you. You’ve been a menace since the day I met you.” Your lips brushed against his.

“You love me anyway,” he kissed you, lips moving together slowly. “We should have another one.”

With a furrowed brow, you pulled away to look at him. “Another…?”

“Kid, babe. Baby. Y’know, that little human we have in the other room? Yeah, we should make another one of them.” His eyes were hopeful, almost pleading.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m fuckin’ exhausted and sometimes this whole parenting thing is real hard but… it’s worth it. Having a family with you, being a dad… it’s everything I never knew I wanted. You make me want this, babe. So, why not have another one? Kat’s old enough now for us to bring another one into the fray.��

It was another big step for the two of you. Could you really handle two children? You were always the most practical one out of you and Peter. He mostly followed his heart while you followed your brain. It was probably one of the reasons why you were so perfect for each other. It was the look in Peter’s eyes that really sealed the deal. He wanted this. He really, really did. Watching him be a dad, the way he loved your daughter — it was everything you had ever wanted.

“Okay,” you cupped his cheek, the pad of your thumb stroking against his soft skin. “Let’s have another little Maximoff.”

Peter didn’t say another word. Instead, he flipped you over so you were on your back, lips lazily attaching to yours. It took him no time at all to have your dress off and tossed to the floor, his own shirt and sweatpants following. His hips lazily, slowly grinded against yours, the feeling of his growing bulge rubbing against your core. Peter could already tell how turned on you were by the small gasps that left your lips, the way your nails were digging into his sides as you held on to him. He moved his way down your body, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and between the valley of your breasts. Hands snaked behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“Want you so bad,” he mumbled against your stomach as he trailed lower down your body. Your panties were off in one swift movement. When Peter got impatient his powers always came into play. One of his long fingers trailed up your slit, your arousal coating his finger. That was apparently all the restraint he had because before you knew it, his boxers were off and the head of his cock was prodding at your entrance.

“Peter, please,” you pleaded with him, bucking your hips against his erection. He didn’t need telling twice as he slowly pushed into you. His eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of your warm walls squeezing around him. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, his hand lacing your fingers together as he slowly thrust into you. Going slow was never Peter’s forte but right now, he was too tired to care. This was gentle and it was perfect.

Your free hand tangled in his hair, lightly tugging on the strands as he tortured you with his slow, lazy pace. He was tired, exhausted but he wanted nothing more than to put a baby inside you and what better time was there to start than the present. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, your breathy moans mingling with his.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. His thrusts losing rhythm as he felt his release closing in. He sped up and you took this as your opportunity to wrap your legs around him. Peter groaned, angling his hips to hit deeper.

It only took a few more shallow thrusts before he stilled, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he came inside you. The sounds leaving his lips enough to trigger your own, a cry of his name leaving you as your walls clamped down on him.

Peter collapsed on top of you in a heap of sweaty, heavy breaths. His lips pressing light kisses against your neck as you both came down from your shared high. “Think we made a baby yet?”

It took you a minute to register what he said. You laughed breathlessly, your hand lightly running along his back. “Dunno, might have to keep at it just to really make sure.”

Peter grinned. Even in his completely exhausted state, he felt like the happiest man on the planet because he had everything anyone could ever ask for, something he’d always wanted — a loving family.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @bohnerrific69 @honeymoon8 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[chvoswxtch]

Hi it’s @feelmyskinonyourskin (can’t ask off anon cause I’m a side blog) I’d love to order a macchiato over ice from Frank please!!!! Congrats on 4K!

hi darling! thank you so much!

I appreciate you giving me the freedom to discuss all my slutty thots about frankie. I think one thing that doesn't get talked about enough is that frank secretly likes it rough so let's discuss

as a reminder over ice means it's spicy! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

frank castle secretly likes it rough

i've said it once & i'll say it again, i'll die on this fucking hill: frank castle is a hopeless romantic. he's an old fashioned, brings you flowers on the first date, arrives fifteen minutes early, opens every door for you, doesn't hesitate to pay the tab, doesn't expect you to invite him inside, perfect gentleman

he's a giver. he makes sure his partner is well taken care of before he even thinks about himself. in all the flashback scenes with maria, she's on top, & frank is letting her set the pace & do whatever she wants

in his scene with beth, we see a snippet of something similar to that but, we also see a hint of frank exercising a bit of control. the way he grabs her face where he's essentially grabbing her neck & face bc his hand is so damn big, how he's gripping the sheets, pinning her to the mattress completely- he's clearly holding back bc he probably doesn't wanna go too far & scare her, but there is another side of him that is dying to come out

it's something you catch onto, & something you wanna explore. not that you don't love slow & sweet romantic sex with frank, or flirty playful sex when a few drinks have loosened him up, but you want something more

but frank being frank is never going to ask you to let him be rough. it would make him feel selfish to use your body for his own benefit. he's also terrified of going too far & hurting you. he's so violent & dangerous in so many other aspects of his life, & he never wants you to see that side of him

but you know that frank would rather die than hurt you, so you make it your mission to convince him that he doesn't have to hold back anymore

one night while you're laying in bed, both of you half undressed, frank lying between your hips as you two share a heated & sensual kiss, his hand glides downward from your cheek to your neck, giving it the faintest of a squeeze before letting go. reaching out to grab his wrist, you pull back & stare up at him

"stop holding back."

frank looks down at you in pure puzzlement. he doesn't understand what you're talking about. he cocks his head to the side & searches your eyes for an answer

"stop doin' what?"

maintaining eye contact with him, you bring his hand back to your throat, placing your hand on top of his and squeezing it to show him that it's okay

"I know there's a part of you that wants more, and so do I. you can let go, frank."

when he catches on to what you're saying, his confusion melts into a serious look of apprehension, & he starts to shake his head

"sweetheart-"

you expected him to protest, so you already have your argument ready. you're not backing down from this

"frank, you're not gonna hurt me. you don't have to treat me like i'm made of glass. you can be rough with me. I can take it."

frank doesn't budge. he's still got that apprehensive look in his eyes, but you also see a flicker of need. you squeeze his hand one more time over yours to show him that this is what you want too

"I know what my limits are, frank. if it's too much i'll tell you, and I trust you enough to know you'll stop."

frank is silent for a moment, & you're worried that he's going to keep being stubborn. but then you notice how his eyes darken, & the low timber of his voice makes you shiver

"you promise you'll tell me the second I do somethin' you don't like?"

your eyes light up with excitement that frank is actually considering it. nodding your head eagerly, you stare up at him, feeling heat spread throughout your lower half

"I promise."

those two words of consent make something inside of him snap. this time when he captures your lips, his kisses are more aggressive & demanding, & they travel down the column of your throat. he bites down on your neck, not hard enough to hurt you, but just enough to leave a possessive mark behind that makes you squirm. he soothes the sting with his tongue & continues his assault on your neck, savoring the noises it pulls from you

his large hands are everywhere. squeezing your breasts, gripping at your hips, kneading your thighs, leaving faint bruises behind in his wake, all evidence of him completely giving in to his own desire

normally frank eases into you & gives you a moment to adjust, but not tonight. as soon as his thick cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, he's snapping his hips relentlessly, pounding you into the mattress

one of his hands holds both of your wrists, keeping them pinned above your head, and his other grabs your neck. his thumb is on the left side of your jaw and his index finger is on the right side, holding your face in place, while the rest of his fingers are wrapped right around your pulse point applying a little bit of pressure. frank always wants to be able to see your face when he's fucking you, but especially right now. he wants to make sure you're enjoying this as much as he is, watching you closely for any sign of discomfort

but all he sees is your mouth hanging open & your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. incoherent moans are leaving your lips, & your cunt is squeezing his cock in a tight grip. it makes the last of his resolve vanish & he's leaning in to grunt in your ear, speaking in a low & rough voice

"this what you wanted, baby? wanted it rough like this, yeah?"

frank is repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you that only he's ever been able to reach, the one that makes supernovas explode behind your eyelids & renders you speechless. he chuckles darkly at your inability to speak

"look at you, takin' my cock so well. bein' such a good girl for me, yeah? lettin' me have you like this?"

the room is filled with the echoes of skin slapping against skin, frank's feral grunts, & your incoherent moans that keep rising higher in volume & pitch. frank has you completely at his mercy, pinned to the mattress beneath his large body, hands held captive above your head. you can't move, not like you even wanted to, & you can't hardly speak to tell him how close you are, but he knows. he always knows

"gonna come already, sweetheart? you like it that much? shh shh shh...I know baby, I know you do. I can feel it, yeah? such a good fuckin' girl. go on baby, come for me. you've earned it."

frank fucks you through your orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he's still relentlessly thrusting, & even though it's overstimulating, it feels too good to want to stop. he groans in your ear when he feels your walls tighten around his cock & flood him with your release, but he hasn't come yet. gripping onto your hips even tighter, his thrusts somehow get even rougher, & in a matter of minutes you're barreling towards another orgasm

"want ya to give me one more, sweetheart. you can do that for me, yeah? c'mon, be a good girl and come for me again. that's it...that's a good girl...that's fuckin' it baby."

only when he feels you come for the second time does frank finally give in to his own release. his hips stutter as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh, grunting loudly while he's emptying himself inside of you

while you're trying to catch your breath, frank gently caresses your cheek with his thumb, a stark contrast to how he was grabbing your throat just minutes ago

"you alright, baby? wasn't too much, was it?"

all you can do is let out a breathless laugh, staring up at him in a haze of bliss and incredulity

"are you kidding me? I can't believe you've been holding back on me this whole time."

frank just looks down at you with a huge grin on his face, leaning in to kiss you softly

"I won't anymore, if it makes ya happy."

once again, i need to be put down like a rabid dog

[tuherrus]

adalminan helmi or adalmina's pearl is a finnish fairytale by zachris topelius about a princess who's given gifts by two fairies as she's born, the first one giving a pearl that will grant her ever-growing beauty, intelligence and wealth, though should she ever lose it then she'll also lose all those things with it until she finds the pearl again the second fairy's gift is that if she does lose the pearl she'll gain a kind and humble heart instead

it's another fairytale illustration and this was the one story out of finnish fairytales that i probably read the most, and it was a favorite of mine as a kid (it still might be, sometimes it's hard to decide) and i wanna summarize a bit more in detail what happens at least in the version i'm most familiar with under the cut, but there's some other variations of it out there too!

so the king and queen deem that the second gift is worthless bc they'll be having servants around adalmina day and night to make sure the pearl, now fashioned into a crown, never disappears or falls off in the first place (and that the first gifts are better suited for a princess regardless)

as she grows older, she does become more beautiful, intelligent and wealthy but also grows selfish, arrogant and even cruel to the people around her

she's resentful of anyone she thinks dares to be more beautiful, intelligent or wealthy compared to her, even stomping on flowers as "she's the only one allowed to be beautiful"

when adalmina turns fifteen she's grown bored of the castle walls and decides to venture out, coming across a pond upon seeing her own reflection she can't help but stop and admire it and do so very closely

of course this is when her crown with the magical pearl tips off of her head and falls into the pond, taking all of her gifts with it and leaving her with amnesia

now appearing as a poor peasant girl and not knowing who she is, a terrified adalmina runs into the forest and comes across a cottage where an old woman lives alone

she takes pity on the lost girl and decides to take adalmina in her care if she helps her with herding goats, and adalmina embraces her in gratitude and promises to help however she can

she's then described to be happier than ever before by living a simple life, now surrounded by a glow that's "not born from shine on the surface, but the kind that comes from the inside of anyone with a good heart"

three years pass by, and a prince comes across the cottage in the forest (i think in some versions he's searching for the missing adalmina specifically) and finds himself falling in love with adalmina as he sees her working from a distance he stops by a pond to have a drink of water and discovers adalmina's pearl in the water, deciding that he'll give the crown to the shepherd girl he saw (again this is different in some other versions where he brings the crown back to the king and queen and it's then tried on all the girls in the kingdom to see who it fits in order to find adalmina as the crown only fits her)

as he places the crown on her head she's revealed to be the lost princess, now restored with all the gifts she had before on top of the kind and humble heart

adalmina returns to the castle to her parents, taking the old woman with her and apologizes to everyone she had hurt

later on she marries the prince and the story ends with "adalmina and her pearl are lovely, but much more lovely is her kind and humble heart, which is more valuable than a pearl"

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Winx Season 2 Outfits

Once again, I finished this way back and just never posted it.

Season 1 Outfits

Onto the why! This got long, so cut! ✂️

The main factor for these outfits was the fact that they're on Earth for almost all of this season, so the outfits had to be a little more in-line with Earth fashion while still being "them".

Tecna finally opens up to different clothes. While shopping for Earth clothes, she comes across a jacket (Pictured above) that she absolutely falls in love with and never takes off. The shoes she's wearing are an old pair of Bloom's. She still prefers Zenithian clothes (as seen by the shirt), but is glad to have stepped out of her comfort zone a bit.

Musa's been saving up her allowance for some new clothes for a while, and finally got to expand her wardrobe. It's not too far from what she wore in season 1, but it's new, and it's actually hers this time. The headphones were a group gift to her for her birthday (they do actually fit her ears. It's not pictured bc I didn't want to edit the bases much, but all pointy ears get hidden via magic).

Flora brought some of her nicer clothes with her this year, now knowing the kind of group she's with (and she's glad she did when she meets Helia). There's not a huge change in the types of clothes she wears this season beyond that. Most of her clothes can reasonably blend in with Earth fashion.

Stella wears a little less jewellery this season. The illusion hiding their more alien features is her doing, and it's dark magic too, which she still isn't strong at, so no earrings to make it easier. The dress is actually Vanessa's. She starts the season off in something typically Stella, but gets very close with Vanessa, and gifts her a dress of hers. Stella still wears the sunglasses (I forgot to turn on the layer with them when I took the picture, and I'm not going back or this will never be posted).

Bloom is wearing some of the clothes she had to leave behind when she first came to Alfea. She takes full advantage of having access to her full wardrobe this season, and this is really only one of many outfits. She's still struggling to figure out how to incorporate pink into her outfits.

Aisha!!! She makes her first appearance this season! This isn't her introductory outfit, but she changes to this pretty quickly after being accepted into the group. This was meant to be similar to the group's season 1 outfits, where she's still trying to find herself a bit. Luckily, she has a lot of people ready and willing to help. It's nearly entirely second hand and paid for by everyone else.

Roxy also makes her first appearance this season. She gets a lot of her trousers scratched up from various animals she takes care of, so she ends up patching them with custom-made patches. Her docs are also customised. She wears fingerless gloves because they look so cool. I will not be taking any kind of criticism on this point. She has a few outfits with some different styles, but likes to stick with either darker colours or neons.

Extra Tidbit: Most of this season's wardrobe is from various second-hand clothes stores.

Aisha and Roxy's first appearance outfits

[bruh-changbin]

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting. 

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value. 

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now. 

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd. 

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can’t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart. 

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you. 

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you. 

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess. 

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image. 

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss. 

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind. 

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success. 

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage. 

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade. 

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay. 

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started. 

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up. 

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name? 

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest. 

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp. 

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own. 

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts. 

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving. 

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit. 

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile. 

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words. 

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows. 

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven. 

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen. 

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use. 

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone. 

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made. 

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering. 

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes. 

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind. 

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude. 

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky. 

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva. 

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite. 

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks. 

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks. 

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself. 

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat. 

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

 “i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks. 

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand. 

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present. 

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you. 

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth. 

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean. 

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines. 

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping. 

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper. 

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth. 

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air. 

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick. 

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. 

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does. 

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you. 

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong. 

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is. 

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere. 

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for. 

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint. 

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt. 

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured. 

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup. 

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

[probablydinosaurs]

five joking about his life or throwing it in their faces makes the siblings uneasy. they cant FATHOM it and it hurts. tbh i feel once they aren't all in such danger and ignoring his warnings and ring leader like behavior , they would slowly start spoiling him a bit. he wouldn't notice at all at first but over time, he gets a deep sense that everyone pities him but he cant place it. he'd start denying any hand outs or good will bc he doesn't want to be seen as a headcase that needs coddling. and i think different siblings are in different camps if u put "baby" and "old man" on a sliding scale. none of these are like extreme stances, more just the vibes they feel from five.

Luther: old man 80% bc hes the only one that see's five's "older" self and can 100% say. same guy no changes. mentally unsound…. but like five stated in that whole fiasco, Luther has daddy issues and cant like. see that old man in such a young man. Luther has 1 half a brain cell. his need to nod and agree to every old man he listens to illnesses wont allow it. so he weirdly flip flops. he also develops the habit of trying to pick five up to calm him down, witch ends very poorly each time.

Diego: protective brother energy. cant fathom his brother got THAT much trauma in him. and is older then him. 13 years of being all the same age. 13 years of sharing the same birthday. and now well everyone ages up together, five is in his own corner being like 67 well the rest are like mm idk math 40 something. Diego just cant…think that far. denial. every time he thinks he's used to this old man or starts seeing him as the same age as everyone, five info dumps about the inner workings of a specific gun or the how good the wine in the celler will be 37 years exactly from now and to wait…Diego just mentally reboots.

Allison: baby camp. didn't take him very seriously back in the day either bc his ego is the size of a watermelon. and oh look the lil guy thinks bc he has more life behind him then us, he thinks he's the smartest one here. yeah right. she makes him his coffee when he wakes up or folds his Landry bc she needs to do hers and he forgot to take his out. five just thinks shes being passive aggressive but its more "if i don't then he might hurt himself or mumbling to himself about how forgetful he has become and i do NOT want to here that right how. il just do it. " tough love babying. five sometimes lets her brush his hair when he's in a bad state of mind.

klaus: depends on the day. he is the one who tease him about his height the most. i think Klaus tries to pinch his cheeks at least once a day and nearly got a blade through his hand at attempt # 23. but he also is second one that weirdly respects him the most. complementing how happy he looks DUE to his retirement and not just in general. likes buying him the stuffiest old man clothes ever from off the road and down an alley thrift shops, thinking everyone would find them silly but five like. genuinely adores them and borderlines on feeling the want to hug him but neh. too stubborn. almost though. witch is rare. five will never admit that he thinks Klaus has a good fashion sense.

ben: the brother that ruffles his hair the most. the two that severed the family. they have a unspoken energy about them. you don't mention my death, i wont bring up your past deal. Ben doesn't really care anyway. on the "i got my brother back, that's all that matters." camp with viktor. fuels five's need to bicker on topics. their hard ass but still playful energy balances each other out. is the one that tells klaus that the clothes he picks out for five is too much and he will hate them but gets surprised every time five likes them. riiight right. he wouldn't have the tastes as the 13 year old i remember him as. he downs scotch like a mad lad. gotta remember that.

viktor: leader of the "he could have come back to us as an acorn like dad warned and id still keep him in my pocket." camp. just happy to have his favorite sibling back. though they admit five also being the most open with him makes him uneasy. he wants to listen about the past 45 years but it can be very existential for viktor. five understands and lets him breath if its too much. (stealing this from this post) i feel like five owns and somehow still has on him a very worn and well loved copy of viktor's book. with notes and highlights scribbled in them. the cover fell off and five sewn it back on then poorly laminated it with the commission's laminating machine . viktor would cry if he saw it. full blown meltdown together.

[toxic-libra]

style - jwy (m)

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader (interactive here) words: 6.9k genre: second chance romance, smut warnings: 3rd person pov, this is 'based' on style - taylor swift, mentions of old hollywood movies (please watch them bc they're super good), smut with biting, thigh riding, oral (m and f), not my best work but give me a chance pls a/n: i was supposed to post this on his bday, but i was at taylor's concert and lmao i kind of got depressed after and hated everything i wrote. this is my debut with ateez so i wanted it to be perfect, but inspiration just fucked me up and i decided to post it anyway since it's been too long already :(

Jung Wooyoung remembered it all too well. He remembered how the delicate musky sandalwood of her signature perfume made his heart tug whenever she was near, the way his stomach flipped when their eyes met, and how his fingers always itched to be touching hers.

Autumns and winters were always the worst.

He could hear all the lines of Rebecca (1940), one of her favourite movies, whenever someone tried to make small talk with him about the weather.

‘Most girls will give their eyes for a chance to see Monte.’

Clenching his jaw, he locked his phone and tossed it aside, trying to digest the fact he was the one who took that damn picture and she decided to post it just when it had been two months since they las saw each other. Not that she was as considerate as to block him so he wouldn’t spend hours on her social media, feeding on any crumble of appearance she dignified her followers with.

Y/N was petty like that.

She didn’t block him, no. She muted him and vanished from his life, but she didn’t give him the pleasure of not having to erase her from his world. If he wanted her truly gone, then he had to do it himself… Which, of course, proved to be a failure.

Because he didn’t want her gone. He tried moving on, only it didn’t work.

Wooyoung wondered if she also thought they made a huge mistake.

Turning his streaming service on, he searched for another one of her 40’s TOP5. Clicking on ‘The Shop Around the Corner (1940)’, the Old Fashioned tasted way bitter on his tongue than it should.

With a condescending sigh, he relaxed against his couch, and waited for Klara Novak (played by Margarete Sullavan) and Alfred Kralik (James Stweart – not surprisingly, one of Y/N’s favourite actors) to engage in their enemies to lovers plot as if he didn’t see that damn movie a thousand times already. Only this time, like others during this year apart, she wasn’t around to swoon over any minor interaction and to almost beam in happiness when Mr. Kralik said:

‘Take me out of my envelope and kiss me.’

Oh, there he went again… Quoting old movies like it was part of his personality.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

A month later

Y/N dried her hair and breathed in the woody scent of her haircare products – a tiny bit of her heart warming at the thought of Wooyoung. He used to love how she smelled.

“Are you ready, big sis?” Jongho knocked at her bedroom door.

“Not even close! You can go first, I’ll tag along later.” She yelled back.

“I’ll wait, no problem. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the surprise by mistake.”

“You just wanna make sure you don’t miss his shocked face when he sees me.” She giggled.

“You know me too well.” He sighed in feigned despair. “But do hurry up, please.”

“I’ll try.”

Y/N couldn’t rush everything. She wanted to look so good Wooyoung would almost faint as soon as his eyes laid on her. Not that she wouldn’t almost faint either… Just the perspective of being at the same place he was made her throat dry.

She missed him in ways she never missed anyone else before.

Deciding on the black dress, she admitted that the fact that he loved that colour made her like it even more. The small slit that drew up her right thigh would also catch his attention, and she couldn’t wait to have it all for herself. Her jewellery were ones he gave her over her birthdays, just to poke at their own stupid game. She didn’t spend much time on make-up, choosing to remain simple and classic – eyeliner and red lipstick… Which Wooyoung also liked.

Most men hated being smudged with lip tint, but he adored it.

The first person she saw was Seonghwa. With one of the prettiest smiles that graced humanity, the tall and handsome man approached her with open arms.

“Isn’t this the greatest surprise ever?!” He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“Glad you like it,” She hugged him tight. “Because I’m back for good.”

“Oh.” Although subtle, Hwa’s smile faltered slightly.

“What?” She frowned.

“Does everyone know you’re back?”

“As of now, just Jjong and you.”

“Right. Makes sense.” He muttered to himself, doing his best not to look over his shoulder. It would be heart wrenching to let Y/N see Wooyoung with his date first thing inside the party.

Of course, she would eventually meet them… There was no way his friend would be as crass as leaving the girl alone because his ex (and the woman he was still in love with) was back in town. Wooyoung could be a little impulsive, but he had manners. And Y/N probably wouldn’t get that hurt from it, but she’d get hurt, nonetheless.

“What makes sense?”

“Oh, the fact that the boys were so quiet. If they knew you were coming, they’d be hyped as fuck.” It wasn’t even a lie, just not exactly the truth. “Let’s grab you a drink and get going, then.”

Hwa’s smile was slightly off, but she didn’t point it out.

Ordering her standard autumn/winter drink – French Connection –, Y/N relaxed against the bar stool. Jongho was nowhere to be seen, which made her a bit insecure. Things were always bit easier when her brother was next to her.

“So, what else is new? How are you guys doing?”

She was fishing for information, obviously. She couldn’t directly ask about Wooyoung because her friends didn’t know they secretly met in Monaco more often than not.

In her defence, the first time happened rather unexpectedly, and it led to a second, and a third… By the fourth, they decided it was better to pretend every time was an accident and keep their friends out of it. Wooyoung normally wouldn’t be this good keeping secrets, however, something in him had shifted. His boyish air had vanished almost completely, leaving his wicked jaw and sharp eyes without the warmth he once carried within him.

He walked with confidence, still. Nonetheless, every move seemed calculated, controlled. The carefree Jung Wooyoung she loved was swept by the future CEO Jung. And while she looked at Seonghwa, she wondered if he had noticed that too.

“We’re fine… We’ll probably be even better with you around now.”

“I hope so.” she grinned as the bartender handed her a glass. “Oh, thank you. Where are the lads? I want to see them. Is everyone here? Hongjoong too?”

With a sigh, he held her hand. “Listen, darling, I’ve something to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“Woo… Wooyoung came here with a girl.”

For a second, Y/N felt the air burning her lungs at the same time someone punched her stomach. Well, she supposed he wouldn’t stay single forever… However, the fact that she had to witness it a month after meeting him was too sour and pitiful. “Oh, I see.” Her voice came out crooked.

“It’s nothing serious, I’m sure. Just a date for the party.” Hwa squeezed her fingers tenderly. “You know he’s still as much in love with you as you are with him.”

But before she could react to his words, her attention laid on the man in question: dressed in a black three-piece suit, his dark long hair was slicked back, only some bangs’ locks falling off from the gel hairstyle. Y/N clenched her jaw, heart thumping so fast she was sure everyone could hear it. Luckily, there was no girl next to him, only her friends.

“Shall we go greet them?” With a haughty pose, one that differed completely from what she felt inside, she tugged at Hwa’s arm, dragging him towards their group.

In slow motion, Wooyoung watched Y/N approach him. When their eyes met, the party seemed to disappear, only the two of them in the ballroom. His fingers flexed on the Old Fashioned glass, demanding a lot of self-control as not to rush to her, hug her tight and kiss her senseless. He couldn’t do that for a thousand reasons, but the impulse was almost cruel.

He still loved her.

He was afraid he’d always love her.

“Long time no see, Wooyoung.” Her smirk was subtle, and there was a twinkle of mirth in her beautiful orbs. The playful tone was laced with politeness, but he knew her all too well.

As if they didn’t see each other a month ago in Monaco, he breathed slowly, letting his lips stretch and mimic hers. “Long time no see, Y/N.”

Straightening her back, her suave pose disappeared as a girl’s hand rolled around his forearm. Then, the jest was replaced by possessiveness, gaze darkening. Jealousy was the lousiest bitch.

“Oh, hello! I’m Lia.”

Well, at least that didn’t come accompanied by ‘His girlfriend’.

“Enchanted. I’m Y/N Choi.”

And since the girl didn’t react at the sound of her name, Y/N supposed she was rather new there. Lia was new enough to not know about her, and wouldn’t stick around enough to do so.

“I can’t believe she’s back!” Hongjoong celebrated, a huge grin on his face and open arms.

“I’m back, Joong.” She agreed, hugging him. “Back for good!”

“That’s awesome!”

“Were you living abroad?” Lia questioned, curious.

Y/N sipped on her drink, cocking her head to the side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘living’, but you could say that, yeah.” It was more like ‘suffering while trying to pretend everything was fine’.

“Why, though?” The quip came from Wooyoung. His eyes were glinting with a mix of grudge and challenge. “I thought you’ve always wanted to move abroad.”

“Where did you live? Europe? The USA?” Lia butted in.

“I spent some time between London and Monaco.”

“Oh my God! Monaco must’ve been a dream! I’ve heard there are some cute guys there, and rich too. Did you meet any? Are they really handsome?”

Y/N chuckled, feeling rather silly for being jealous of that girl. No one would dare to talk about crushes and money in front of a potential boyfriend, so that meant Lia felt nothing for Wooyoung, right? “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like… Meeting new people there.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Why meet any boy if her heart was still set on her ex? Why pretend she could replace him with another rich dude?

She couldn’t, it was pointless.

Not when Monaco screamed them. If she was Taylor Swift, ‘Cornelia Street’ would be called ‘Monte Carlo’. And like Taylor said on her lyrics, Y/N couldn’t walk around any corner of the small principality without being reminded of Jung Wooyoung.

It didn’t help that, although breaking up, they engaged in secret rendezvous more often than not… And each reunion just proved her how any other men paled in comparison to him. It was ridiculous to have an ‘affair’ with her own ex-boyfriend; she always condemned people that broke up and still kept hooking up with each other… Until it happened to her.

To be quite honest, the reason they broke up wasn’t exactly because of bad behaviour. There wasn’t cheating, nor deceiving. They didn’t fall out of love, either – in fact, Y/N was sure she loved him even more with each month apart. However, love alone wasn’t enough to calm her restless mind, and he too seemed eager for… Well, she didn’t know?! Things were just different. The weight of responsibilities and the need to make something, any difference in the world drove them apart.

Wooyoung was taking his position in his father’s business, and Y/N had no idea of what to do with her life (again). She acknowledged her timing was shitty, for he needed something concrete to hold onto while everything changed… But… She was afraid of not being good enough for him. He was becoming the Business Prince he was born to be, and she… She was just the shallow heiress with nothing important on her ‘life curriculum’ that the media thought her to be.

Then, London seemed a good escape.

It was a familiar place, offering her some comfort. Not warm and soothing like Wooyoung’s presence in her existence, but enough to keep her going.

She occupied her mind with a Master’s degree in Creative Writing, and when it was over, she had the overwhelming desire to call Wooyoung and tell him she finally did something about those 68 stories she wrote throughout her writing life.

Now, they were face to face and she didn’t know what to exactly say.

“Right…” Jongho intervened. “Big sis, we should greet some people now.”

And like smoke, Y/N disappeared from his sight for the next hour.

Ordering his third Old Fashioned, Wooyoung recognised the almond-shaped red nails, especially the black onyx ring on her middle finger.

“A Death in The Afternoon, please.” She smiled at the bartender.

“No French Connection?” He looked at her.

“Summer habits die hard.”

“I thought you preferred winter.”

“Any champagne of preference, miss?” The man asked Y/N.

“Veuve Clicquot.” They answered at the same time.

She sighed, biting a faux grin and playing with the gold band on her finger. “I see we still have some stuff in common… Does your date like signet rings?”

Wooyoung was wearing his black onyx signet ring… Y/N’s one twin.

“I’ve no idea; never asked her.” His eyes traced her neck. “No pearls?”

“Not with black satin.” She quoted Rebecca (1940), heart thumping with expectation.

“I thought it was never wearing neither one nor the other.”

Thank God he still remembered the movie!

“You can’t blame me for loving pearls and black satin, I look divine in them.” She jested, flicking her hair in a haughty way. “So, I try not to wear them together.”

Ogling her from head to toe, Wooyoung’s grin was one of a panther, although he felt his stomach tightening and the annoying dryness of his throat. “Cheers to that. You do look divine.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort in this.”

“It wasn’t needed. You look good in anything.” ‘Even better if stark naked’, but he obviously wouldn’t say that. Before he could comment on something else, his drink arrived. “Thanks, lad.” Turning to her once more, he kept grinning, although less sincerely. “So, see you around, Y/N.”

“Wait.” She called out before she could stop herself. He just raised his eyebrow, like he used to do whenever giving someone his initial attention. “I was hoping we could talk about my being back home… At some point this weekend, maybe?! Are you free?”

“I’ll be free after the party, if you want.”

“Well, don’t you have other plans with your date?”

“I don’t and you already know that.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“I couldn’t just invite you, could I?” He retorted.

Her jaw clenched, swallowing the apology. They were in public, not the right place to discuss their relationship. “Text me when you’re ready, and we can meet up.”

“Alright.”

“See you later, then, Woo.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Wooyoung still lived in the same penthouse. It was painful sometimes, for the whole place had a bit of Y/N in it. He kept their photographs, kept the clothes she left behind, kept everything he could. It wasn’t his wisest decision, however, breaking up with her wasn’t one of them either.

And now she was back.

She was back and wanted to talk about it.

Now, way past three in the morning, he wasn’t drunk, but had the weirdest taste on his mouth – something like hope. His heart was beating heavily against his chest, and he couldn’t wait to smell her again. To touch her, kiss her, set every emotion free.

Dragging himself to the mirror of the entrance hall, he combed his hair with his fingers and smoothed out his shirt, opening two buttons just because.

At the sound of the doorbell, he took a deep breath and straightened his back.

“Well…”

The small, almost timid smile Y/N gave him was enough to make his knees wobble.

“Hi there… Uh…” She opened her arms. “Here I am.”

With a chuckle, one that made her eyes water a bit, for it resembled the Old Wooyoung so much, he let his body cage hers, holding her in a tight hug.

Wooyoung always gave the best hugs.

“Hi there, love.” His voice was slightly raspy, quite full of emotion, the nickname slipping past his tongue before he had any chance to keep it locked.

They remained there for a minute or two, feeding on each other’s presence and feeling each other’s warmth as if the sun was finally out after a fortnight-long storm.

“I’m back, Woo.” She said against his torso. “I’m back for good now.”

“And what does it mean?”

Y/N knew he wanted to hear her exact words, even though he already knew why she was there. And, because she loved him so, she didn’t have any problem laying her chest bare for him.

“It means I’m sorry I backed off when you needed support. Sorry I freaked out and thought lowly of me, and ended up hurting you… Hurting us in the process.” She put some distance between them, trying to be as honest as possible. “All this time apart proved to me that you’re my only one and I was really dumb for thinking I could ever move on from you.” She offered him a shy smile. “I wanted to be worthy of you, but I didn’t understand I could do that while being with you. My mind and insecurities blinded me, and I ran away. I hurt you deeply, and I’m so very sorry for it.”

Wooyoung nodded, face serious.

“You did hurt me.” He agreed. “I wondered what had happened, why you stopped loving me.”

“I didn’t.”

“This was clear by our second meeting in Monaco.” His grin was slightly off. “But it angered me that, although we kept seeing each other, you never suggested for us to get back together.”

“I still thought you deserved better.”

“Well, turns out I’m the one who gets to decide who or what is good for me, Y/N. And you were it.” He noticed how her expression dropped, probably due to the use of past tense. And Wooyoung had learned to be cruel to others, his job required him to be cold and controlled, but he could never be like that with Y/N. “And you still are, even though you hurt me.” Her beautiful eyes stared at his, hopeful. “When I saw you at the party tonight, the world slowed down. It’s no use pretending I don’t miss you and I don’t love you; we’re old enough to stop playing these games now. It was alright when you were in Europe, but now you’re back, and I’m not in the mood for halves. So, it’s either all of it, or nothing at all. It’s either starting over together, or ending everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, despite the ultimatum. “I want to start over. I want to be with you.”

“So no running away whenever things get difficult, nor making assumptions, ok?! I’m not one of giving second chances, Y/N.” He warned. “And I’m not interested in having my heart broken again. I hate being like this, hate being sceptical and cold. This isn’t me.”

Y/N nodded. “I won't let my insecurities and paranoia hurt you again.”

“You can talk to me, you know? I want to make you happy, see you happy. If things get hard, I’m more than honoured to be your safe-haven… You don’t have to move to fucking Europe to sort it out.” He rolled his eyes, sounding more like the Wooyoung he once was.

“Want me to pinkie-promise?” She stuck her pinkie out, grinning.

“God, how I’ve missed your inability to take things serious!”

“Hey! I’m mature now.”

“Nah,” He shook his head, one hand cupping her cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“I’ve been yours the whole time, and I don’t plan on running away ever again.”

“Thank God.” Wooyoung whispered against her lips, starting a searing kiss.

Y/N relished in his lips, fingers threading in his dark locks. He tasted like Old Fashioned and home; he felt like the rays of sunshine on a spring day; he smelled like the best mix of spiciness and man. She couldn’t get enough of him, and it was pointless trying to pretend so.

“Woo, I…” Her voice was breathy, conflicted.

“You…?” He frowned, brown eyes fixed on hers. “Should I stop?”

“No, don’t!” She sighed. “It’s just… I don’t know if… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” Well, they’d agreed to be back together, right? It was better getting it off her chest quickly, so he wouldn’t doubt her later on. “I love you.”

With an easy smile, one that obviously didn’t mirror the flood of emotions, Wooyoung kissed her urgently, again. She sighed against his mouth, tongue quickly searching for his before she lost her last thinking brain cell. It didn’t take more than a minute before a cheeky and feminine hand found its way down his torso, tracing with pointy nails from his belly to his crotch. Wooyoung pulled her hair, pushing her face upwards and changing their kiss angle, then, he groped her ass, relishing on the feeling of her plump bottom and the luxurious velvet of her dress.

Y/N gasped for air, pressing sloppy kisses on his jaw and neck. She gave him small bites, sucking on his skin and mirroring how she would do on more private areas. She untucked his shirt off his trousers and fumbled with his belt, patience running thin.

Why the fuck was he wearing a belt, in the first place?!

“Don’t you dare getting on your knees now.” He warned, predicting her actions.

“Pardon?” She hesitated.

“I’ll come so fast if you give me a blowjob now, we’ll lose all the fun.” There was an adorable blush on his cheeks, despite his mockery tone and bossy warning before.

Her heart tugged at the sight.

“Then we do need a new approach, for I was really hoping to choke on your cum as soon as possible.” Now it was her turn to say something obscene with flushed cheeks.

“May I choke on yours first?” He offered, a smirk growing on his lips.

“By all means.” Y/N giggled, shaking her head in agreement.

Wooyoung pushed her against the wall, eyeing her for a brief second before stealing another kiss. At every stroke of his tongue there was a silent promise; he tried to pour both love and lust in it. Then, he got on his knees, pushing her dress upwards and revealing her legs. Y/N helped him by holding on the skirts, bunching the fabric up next to her waist. She felt his hands on her feet, undoing her shoes, then they were on shins, tickling their way to her thighs until they rested on her bum, kneading at the flesh in pure hunger.

Wooyoung kissed her lower stomach, nibbling lightly at her smooth skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” He murmured against her, grip tightening.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I’ve missed you more.”

“Is this a competition?” She eyed him in defiance.

“What if it is?!”

Y/N chuckled, combing his hair out of his forehead.

“Then I won.”

“I don’t think so.” Wooyoung touched her panties, his thumb drawing small circles right on her core. He kissed her right there, his tongue swiping up and down the lace and its warmth travelling through the fabric, making her shiver. “You better hold onto my shoulders, love.”

Y/N moaned loudly, feeling her legs bend a bit and skin tingle. She quickly took her dress off and tossed it aside; getting drunk in the way Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up, hypnotised by her boobs. She rested her head against the wall with a loud thud, but pain was the last thing on her mind. Slowly, he rolled her undergarments down and launched his mouth on her, sucking and licking in lazy strokes like those that he knew would drive her insane. His touch, his kisses, his presence… She beamed in joy at the sight of him, and she would regret every second of their breakup because it was a waste of time for both of them. As for Wooyoung, he knew no other woman would compare to her; no one else fitted him as Y/N did.

She tugged at his hair, forcing her hips down to create a bit more friction. His short nails scratched her thighs, bringing her even closer. Normally, she would prefer to lay, but there was something rather wicked about that position, especially knowing that they were by the door… It didn’t matter he lived in the penthouse, she wondered if people on the other floors could listen.

His heart fluttered as she came, the most wicked and lustful moan of his name coming from her lips. Y/N felt gooey, her legs begging for buckling down and resting anywhere… Preferable on a bed… However, Wooyoung seemed to have other plans.

Tugging her by the hand, he brought her to the nearest chair in his living room and sat down with her nestled on his lap. He kissed her jaw, delicately biting at the flesh.

“Ride my thigh, love.” He murmured against her chin. It sounded like a suggestion, but Y/N understood the meaning: an order.

“While you’re wearing trousers?”

“Mm-hm.” He shook his head in agreement, finger pads pinching one of her nipples.

“Won’t it stain?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flew back to hers, a mockery gleam fighting its way beyond the lust.

“Are you trying to gain yourself some minutes?”

Busted.

Ugh, how she hated him for knowing her so well!

“I’m just thinking about how embarrassing it’ll be for those doing your laundry.”

“I’ll do it instead.”

“You? Doing the laundry?!” Y/N grinned in pure jest. “Jung Wooyoung, part-time millionaire and part-time CEO, doing housework?!”

“Full-time millionaire and full-time love of your life, as decided minutes ago.”

“What an amazing career.”

“You just gotta focus on what you do best.” He shrugged, putting on a serious expression though his voice was soft, cheerful even.

“Well, God help me, for you do that perfectly.”

Y/N kissed him, shivering when his arms rounded her waist to pull her closer to his crotch.

“Ride my thigh, Y/N.” Wooyoung said again.

Her eyes flew shut after listening to her name falling from his lips. Promptly, she moved, straddling his leg and rocking her hips against his pants. One of Wooyoung’s hands groped on her ass while the other went up, scratching her ribs on the way to her boobs. His head dipped down, tongue darting around the bud, licking and sucking it as he felt her body tensing.

“It’s too much.” She moaned.

He paid her no mind, keeping the assault until she started trembling.

“Can’t you take it?” He rasped against her collarbones. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Y/N gulped, mouth dry and heart beating so fast she was sure Wooyoung could hear it. She was also sure he knew she would do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making her feel good, so she just went back on grinding on his thigh without answering directly to his question. Besides, words escaped her as her second orgasm approached.

“Fuck, love, you’re fascinating.” it came out breathy, Wooyoung’s teeth sinking onto her shoulder. He felt the spot next to his knee wet, noticed her hips losing strength speed.

It was the second bite that undid her truly. She shook, nails leaving red lines on his backs and arms tightening around his neck, bringing him even closer. Then she collapsed against him, panting. Wooyoung peppered kisses around her jaw, smoothing her hair and praising her for being the best of girls, for obeying him and cumming again.

“Wooyoung,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve made a mess of your trousers.”

“It’s ok, love. We’ll take it off.” He smiled softly. “Are your legs working?”

“Barely, but I can try to stand up.”

“No, no, no. I’ll just put you...” He murmured while pushing her to the side and standing up himself, leaving her on the chair. “See? I’ll take it off.”

“Oh, no, wait!” Y/N slapped his hand. “Let me do this.”

Fuck, he could cum on the spot. She really was at his house, the living room’s dim light casting over her while she fumbled with his trousers, and it downed on Wooyoung that she was back.

And she still loved him.

And they were together again.

“Here, sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.” She gestured, getting on her feet too.

Oh, damn, he knew where that was going.

“What did I tell you about getting on your knees?”

“You choked on my cum already, now it’s my turn. Be fair!” Y/N pouted.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, God, the things I wanna do to you.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip. Soon, he forced it in, attentively staring at her mouth while she sucked it inside, cheeks hollowing. “Please, if you could do the same to my dick, I would…”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” Y/N chuckled, bringing his hand to full view and tracing her tongue on the tip of his finger. His chestnut eyes were a shade darker, pupils blown open.

“All mine, I guarantee.”

But before she could dive in, a familiar ringtone erupted from the floor, his trousers vibrating at the rhythm. It startled them, though Y/N’s reaction was only a small grin whereas Wooyoung’s was an annoyed grunt, cussing in a low voice.

“Maybe you should pick it up?”

“Absolutely not.” He refused to move and spoil the moment. His dick was hard, he finally had her back and between his legs (ready to suck the soul out of him)… He waited more than a fucking year for that, whoever called could damn wait too.

“What if it’s important?”

“There’s nothing more important than your pretty mouth around my cock, love.”

“But…”

“On your knees, darling.”

She gulped, slightly annoyed by the fact he could change the mood with only one phrase. It never failed to surprise how much effect he had on her.

Trying not to let his temper rise, Y/N went back between his legs. She caressed his thighs, nails trailing them slightly. Then, she went up, unbuttoning his shirt while he glanced at her with a hunger in his eyes. She pushed off his shirt, being awarded with the sight of his tattoo. Hands palming his torso, she mapped his skin, tracing the Latin phrase, wanting nothing more than to eat him open. She licked her lips, heart thumping loudly against her ribcage.

“Why are you staring?” He wondered. “Do I look too tempting?” He jested.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “Delicious as fuck and all mine.”

“I like how it sounds.” Wooyoung dipped his head down, pecking her lips. “And you’re all mine.”

“Always have been.” She agreed.

His stomach churned at the gleam of lust in her beautiful eyes. “Suck.”

The order came out simple and serious, a bit like the new Wooyoung he was.

Y/N’s hands found purchase on his thighs, the very ones she rode a while ago. Well, she was already in the rain… Let it all get wet.

Literally.

She gathered some saliva, palming his dick and spitting right on its head. Wooyoung breathed audibly, chest rising in a lungful expanse. Y/N moved her hand on him, spreading her spit and hearing his quiet moan. With a grin, she closed her eyes and sank down on his shaft, tongue circling the tip and tasting the salty pre-cum.

“Fuck.” He groaned.

She wasn’t that good with having dicks on her throat, always gagging and getting teary eyed, but this time she wanted to surprise him. She wanted to make him feel as marvellous as she felt during her two orgasms. Hence, she watched her breathing and swallowed him deeper. Wooyoung said something through gritted teeth, a hand flying to her hair and holding her head in place. Y/N hollowed her cheeks, bobbing up and down for a brief minute, forcing the movement against Wooyoung’s command. His hips bucked, making his cock hit her throat and she feel the burn in her eyes, tears coming almost automatically.

“Fuck, love, you’re gonna…”

He was cut mid-sentence by her gaze and thought he would explode. If there was anything hotter than her sucking him off and his cock was gagging her… Wooyoung didn’t really want to know. He honestly wouldn’t survive it.

Y/N repeated the motion, then she backed off with a gasp, drooling all over him. His hands were shaking, making him slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t stop even if I gag.” She ordered.

“Ugh, the things I wanna do to you, darling…”

“It’ll have to wait a bit.” She kept her fingers busy, caressing him while she took a breath.

Then, Wooyoung watched, mesmerised, Y/N’s wickedness take control: she turned her attention to his balls, licking it up and nibbling at the sensitive skin like he used to do with her clit. Words escaped him, so all he did was let out a raspy moan, tightening his grip on her hair.

Her tongue swirled around his shaft and she swallowed him again, tilting her head slightly so he could start fucking her mouth. He caught on her idea and adjusted his position, moving his hips smoothly, testing the angle. Y/N gagged once again, because that way he hit a spot too close to her throat, and although it was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t be hornier. Just tasting him and hearing him moan, knowing it was her own doing… It made her all wet and desperate. Glancing up, she locked eyes with Wooyoung – he looked hypnotised, almost drunk on the scene… On her.

It was all so erotic, so lustful, so right. He couldn’t tear his gaze as his dick disappeared on her plump lips, accepting all of him in as if she was born to suck him off, as if she was starving for it.

“Can I cum in your mouth, love?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside. “Or should I cum in your pussy?”

She whimpered, doing her best to shake her head positively, nails clawing at his thighs for support. Her knees were starting to hurt, legs sore and quite numb, but she really wanted to taste him before they properly fucked.

At her consent, Wooyoung’s mind clouded, Y/N being the only thought echoing. He shivered, the orgasm hitting so strong his belly clenched and his toes curled; he spilled inside her mouth, a deep, sexy groan erupting from his own.

Y/N swallowed and wiped her mouth, climbing his legs and sitting on his lap. She caressed his face, drawing all of his angles and mapping them on her mind once again.

“I love you.” She whispered next to his ear. “And I intend to make it up to you every day.”

“You’re a fucking minx.” Wooyoung murmured, a small smile reaching his mouth.

“Full-time minx?” She joked.

“Yeah. And full-time love of my life, so don’t fret.”

“Good.” Y/N stole a peck. “Good.”

They kissed in a lazy, tooth-aching romantic dance. He could taste himself on her tongue, and it was addictive, making him want to ravish her on the spot.

Then, after catching some breath and regaining more strength, Wooyoung hooked his arms around her legs and stood up, grinning at her wide eyes and high-pitched yelp.

“Hold tight, love. We’re going to the couch.”

“You should’ve said that before.” She giggled.

Wooyoung moved as if he was used to carry her all the time. Laying her down, he hovered over her, kissing her once more. This time, it was sloppy, teeth clashing as they touched each other all over – Y/N’s sharp nails digging at his back, leaving red lines on its length, while he groped at her thighs and ass, letting her wet pussy grind against his stomach and hips. She moaned, breaking the kiss and bending her head backwards when she felt his touch creeping down, stopping right at her core. Wooyoung didn’t mind it, kissing her neck instead, and plunging two fingers inside her, moving them slowly.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N cursed. “Please, Woo, please.”

“What are you begging for, love?” He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mirth and lust, heart beating a bit too fast at her desperation, at the fact that she was his again.

“You.” Her teeth tucked his bottom lip at the same time she tugged at his hair, her pupils blown wide, hungry and desperate for anything he could give her. “Always for you.”

“But I’m already yours, Y/N.”

“But I want more. I want everything, Woo.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.” Setting his fingers free, it was time to fuck her properly.

He thrusted, finally linking their bodies. She hugged him, nails digging onto his back and leaving crescent marks; her legs pulled him even closer. His cock twitched, being devoured by her tight cunt. Wooyoung couldn’t even control his own muscles, so eager for his own release and to make Y/N feel good, like she deserved after repenting.

They were so focused on each other that every movement felt calculated, synchronised. Where she went, he followed, and vice-versa. His belly tensed up when one of her hands held his ass, groping at it while she let out a low, sexy laugh.

“You fucking minx.”

“It’s mine to touch,” She pouted, bathed in feminine power. “All mine.”

Something switched in his demeanour and Y/N gasped in surprise as he pulled her arms up, a strong hand blocking them from moving.

“Well, you’re all mine too. Mine to touch,” He brought another hand up, fingers intertwining with hers. “Mine to kiss,” A hungry, wet kiss stolen. “Mine to please,” His pace quickened, cock throbbing while she clenched around it. “Mine to…”

Love.

He growled, combusting in emotions. Y/N seemed to understand, because her eyes shone in a warm, romantic gleam. She got teary, pleasure so unbearable, so suffocating her body couldn’t take it anymore. She was still sensitive from the other orgasm, which made this one stronger, more devastating. Gripping at Wooyoung’s hands, she found in him her safe-haven.

Feeling her clenching around him just made his dick harder, and he was surprised at the fact… Normally he had to rest a bit before he went from one orgasm to another. Sitting up, Wooyoung hugged her by the waist, bringing her body closer, letting her nipples grind against his torso as she rocked against him in a steady speed. Bouncing, Y/N created enough friction and Wooyoung moved to match her speed, their muffled moans paired up with their hips colliding were the only noises echoing in the room.

They kissed again, messily and hungrily. She held him with such strength, anchoring on him as if her life depended on that. It was intense and raw, her body subconsciously trying to conquer his, claim his as hers… Although she didn’t need that anymore. He wouldn’t belong to anyone else… He didn’t want to. It was Y/N from the beginning.

“I’ll probably leave some red marks on your shoulders…”

“It’s ok.” He kissed her jaw, muffling another moan.

At each sharp and fast thrust, at each moan and kiss, they got further lost on each other. His dick twitched in earnest, feeling her so snug and wet around him. Y/N trembled at the breath denial, causing her stomach to tighten in delight. Wooyoung felt his body giving up and cursed low, unable to hold back anymore.

“Love…” He rasped. “Are you with me?”

Her teary eyes were enough answer. Wooyoung wanted to say a couple dirty things, however, the grip she had on his cock robbed him his sanity, so he just plunged on her violently, guiding both of them to the climax. Y/N shook from head to toe, moaning his name like a prayer and squeezing him like she had claws. He bit on her shoulder again because he knew she loved that. His fingers dug into her skin, also leaving marks.

The only noises were their panting. He rested his face against her neck, giving it small bites and kisses. Playing with his dark, long locks, Y/N sighed in contempt. How could she think it was possible to be happy without him when she was only happy with him, because of him?!

“Why?” She heard his muffled voice.

“What?”

“Why are you sighing?” He moved slightly, so they could look at each other.

“Just because.”

“Perhaps because you’re in your favourite place in the world with your favourite person?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “God, you’re so conceited!” Slightly tugging at his hair, she shook his head a bit. “My favourite place is Monaco.”

“This still makes me your favourite person.” He grinned.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Playfully rolling her eyes, she pouted.

“I’m not tired at all. I suggest we grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and celebrate a bit more, hm?”

“Will you help me remove my make-up first?”

“Of course, it’s classic Y/N-Wooyoung behaviour.”

She smiled, knowing that everything would be alright again.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Janthony

barbie dolls: Anthony Lockwood x you

word: 3k ish

summary: Anthony has a secret admirer who can't seem to figure out his middle name

warnings: you rude bike, also eat twizzlers bc I associate twizzlers with bikes and before you say anything no it doesn't have anything to do with Juno leave me alone, Lockwood's parents death mentioned, mentions of blowing heads off, you'll probably cringe at the one note I did write but I'm just four squirrels stacked on top of each other what more do you want from me, George and Lucy are certified haters but it's in a loving way

The first note confused him. Lockwood went out to get the mail but he paused when he reached the gate. There, tied to the pole, was a flower and a small piece of paper. He gently untied the ribbon.

Lockwood initially thought it was for George. His initials scrawled across the top of the paper made him reconsider. He read the note and realized he had just gained a secret admirer.

With that, the notes kept coming. Some had poetry describing his looks, some had a gift waiting in the mailbox, and some were just a good old-fashioned letter. All of them were signed the same.

‘Lukewarm regards,’ and then his full name was written out. His middle name was always different. It was Jacqueline, Jordan, Jack, Jason, and James, but his admirer’s favorite? Janthony. The first time he read it Lockwood had laughed. The second he chuckled. By the third time, George was calling him Janthony every time he got the chance.

George easily found out, seeing the notes and growing population of flowers in the kitchen. He saw Lockwood’s smile when he came back from getting the mail. He thought it was cute.

Lockwood wanted to respond and wanted to see you. But it was entirely impossible. He felt like he was trying to catch smoke, with the lights off and his eyes closed. Every time he would stare out the window and watch the gate, the second he left to use the bathroom when he came back there was a note waiting for him. It was entirely impossible how fast you moved. Lockwood thought it was silly that it was harder to catch his admirer than it was to catch a ghost. He started tying notes to the gate himself, in response to yours. They would disappear with a new one. You became pen pals with extra steps.

Once George asked him what he thought his admirer looked like, it was a flabby attempt at trying to see if Lockwood could be swayed by physical appearance. Lockwood had sighed and stared out the window, all dreamy. ‘it doesn't matter, they're already the most beautiful person to me.’ George gagged.

Eventually, Lucy moved in and Lockwood was still chasing his smoke. Lucy and George started conspiring who they thought it was. George said the old woman down the street. Lucy said the post-boy. With a lot of frustration boiling inside of Lockwood, he decided he would stay up all night, staring out the window. He felt like a child trying to catch the tooth fairy.

Lucy accompanied him, George saying there was no point before tucking himself into bed. So Lucy and Lockwood stayed up the whole night, staring out the window. Lockwood was more determined. Lucy would get up every once and a while to make sure they were fed. Eventually, as the hours went on, fog settled over the street, and they started losing hope. Lockwood was struggling to keep his eyes open. Lucy was still hyped up on her handful of pixie sticks she had no plans of going to sleep. She knew Lockwood wouldn't make it through the whole night. He fell asleep with his legs thrown over her lap. Lucy kept her eyes trained outside, ignoring Lockwood's snores.

Just as the sun was peaking over the horizon she saw movement out in the fog. There you came, rolling around the corner of the street on your bike. You had a sweet aura about you. Maybe it was your small smile tugging at your lips, maybe it was the twizzle sticking out the corner of your mouth, maybe it was your sweater. Whatever it was Lucy wanted to be friends with you, know your every thought, know your favorite color and drink. She wanted to look across the room to make sure you heard something and thought what she did. At first, she just assumed you were some innocent bystander, riding your bike out for fun. Then you stopped by the gate. Flicking out your kickstand with your ankle as you dismounted. Lucy's grin grew as she realized she was witnessing Lockwood's admirer while he was passed out.

You pulled out a box out of your backpack. You dropped it into the mailbox and tied a small note to the gate’s pole. As you got back on your bike, Lucy slammed her palm on the window pane. Your head shot up, making eye contact with her. Lucy gave you a bright smile, waving rapidly at you. You pressed your finger to your lips before turning back and riding your bike off into the fog.

When Lockwood finally woke up he looked out the window and slumped when he saw a note. He heard Lucy in the kitchen. Lockwood flung himself into the nearest chair.

“We missed them, again.” He muttered, defeated.

“Correction. You missed them, again. I saw them just fine.” Lockwood gaped at Lucy. George joined them looking between their faces.

“The hell happened to you two?” George asked, pouring himself orange juice.

“I saw Lockwood's admirer and he didn't because he was snoring away,” Lucy said with a proud grin. Lockwood shook his head.

“Are they hot?” George asked. Lockwood snapped his head at George.

“George.” He said in a scolding tone.

“Yes,” Lucy said with a smile.

“Lucy.” Lockwood glared at them both.

“Oh, you're just pissed you didn't get to see them yourself,” George muttered. Lockwood shrugged.

“Next question,” Lockwood muttered. Lucy clicked her tongue.

“Are you going to go get the mail?” Lucy asked. Lockwood shook his head.

“It'll just rub my failure in my face.” Lucy sighed at him, leaving to get the mail herself. She brought back the box and note among the junk mail. She gently set the box and note in front of Lockwood’s pouting face. He stared at it for a moment before sitting up. Lockwood first read the note, a disgustingly beautiful letter that made him flush. He was worried about opening the gift. It could easily be a tarantula though he doubted you'd do that. Lockwood steeled himself pulling the lid off the box.

He found a leather-bound journal, with his initials in gold paint on the front. Lockwood opened it to find your handwriting.

‘For your wild mind, Dear Anthony Janthony Lockwood.’ sealed off with a little heart next to the words. He traced over the lines with his fingertips. Lockwood flicked through the pages, maybe you left another note. He reached the back cover and slumped at nothing but the stamp from the craftsman. George stared over Lockwood's shoulder, picking up the journal himself.

“Your wild mind?” George muttered in a teasing tone. Lockwood sighed.

“I told them about how I used to journal as a kid and I just couldn't bring myself to do it anymore after my parents passed. So it's actually quite thoughtful.” Lockwood let out a loud sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh look at that,” George muttered. Lockwood sat up, trying to look at what he was pointing at. George moved the book away from him, showing Lucy.

“Oh, hey, look at that.” She nodded approvingly before taking a sip out of her mug.

“What? What is it?” Lockwood asked, looking between them. Maybe he missed a note. George turned the book around, showing him the stamp. Lockwood shook his head, slumping again.

“It's the manufacturer, it's handmade in town.” Lockwood sighed again, ignoring George. He already knew that. “Meaning they'd have to get it done personally, a handmade custom journal done in town.” Lockwood stared out the window.

“Meaning, you could go ask the person who made this who your admirer is,” Lucy stated, trying to make it more plain for Lockwood. Lockwood paused, looking over at them. He looked back out the window.

“We have a new errand on the itinerary today.” He muttered.

They found the bookbinder easily, the logo stamped in the back of his journal. When they got inside it was small and dark but it felt warm. There were books along most of the walls and a desk in the back. Lockwood, George, and Lucy made it to the desk and waited silently. There was a small silver bell on the side, next to the register. George reached out and rang it before Lucy could stop him. While the group quietly argued over the politeness or ringing a bell, an old man's head popped out from around the corner. He was balding and looked mean. Lockwood explained to him the situation, asking who asked for the journal to be made.

“You must be Janthony. I told them I wasn't doing nothing for free. I have a card for you.” The old man pulled an envelope out from under the register and held it out to Lockwood. Lockwood thanked him and quickly ripped into it.

Paperbacks

Candle wax

Bookshelves

Reading by themselves

Books in a pile

Your next clue is held by a vampire

Lockwood pressed his lips together. It appears his one more errand has turned into two. Lockwood dragged them across town to the Library. He paused when he realized he didn't know any vampires nearby. George called him an idiot and stalked off to a bookshelf. Lockwood glanced at Lucy. She shrugged. They waited patiently as George walked over to them again, a book in his hands. He flashed the cover. Dracula. George flipped the book upside down and flipped through the pages. Another letter floated to the ground. George looked up at Lockwood with an ‘I told you so' before heading back towards the shelf.

Lockwood yanked the letter off the ground, before tearing into it. He scanned over the words quickly. The letter was taken out of his hands by Lucy.

“This one’s lamer than the last,” Lucy whispered. Lockwood glared at her, taking the letter back.

“Don’t be rude.” Lockwood folded the letter. Lucy sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Well glad we’re off to Satchell’s. We needed to go anyways.” Lucy muttered, just as George joined them.

“This might be a strange question, but was there something left here by someone?” The cashier stared at him blankly. They raised an eyebrow.

“Another place, I kinda wished I went and got the mail every morning,” George said, following after them.

When they did make it to Satcchell’s, they split up instantly. George and Lucy split up the list of things they needed. Lockwood busied himself by reading the back of the closest item to him. Eventually, Lucy and George returned to Lockwood with their arms full of supplies. He led them to the register, greeting the cashier as they left the products on the counter. Lockwood paid the cashier before speaking up about something that wasn’t about the weather.

“Possibly for an Anthony?” Lockwood asked. the cashier shook his head.

“No, don’t think so.” The cashier said as they bagged the items.

“Try Janthony,” George muttered, he meant it mainly as a joke but no one laughed.

“For a Janthony?” Lockwood asked, avoiding eye contact with the cashier. The cashier looked up at him.

“Yeah actually.” They reached under the countertop. They stuck out a letter to Lockwood. Lockwood recognized the handwriting on the back. Lockwood thanked the cashier, handing the bags to George and Lucy. They all headed towards the door, standing by the wall as Lockwood stared down at the letter. He smiled at the name on the back. He laughed at Janthony at first, then he hated it mostly because of George, and now he was finding it a symbol of your care. You probably thought it was a joke too, but every time he read it in your handwriting he wanted to hear it from your mouth more. The letter was passed around the three of them, George groaning. Lucy shrugged, handing the letter back to Lockwood.

“Another errand across town, why couldn’t they just tell you their name?” George complained. Lockwood pressed his lips together. He lightly smacked George in the chest with the letter.

“Well off we go, George. On an adventure, to find my caring and loving penpal who has done nothing to you.” Lockwood said, walking off in the direction of where the letter described. Lockwood heard George groan again.

“I personally found it cute Lockwood likes them so much he’s willing to travel all across the city just to maybe see them.” Lucy declared, clasping her hands behind her back with a pep in her step. George scoffed. Lockwood shook his head.

“But you see, I’ve already seen them. I know what your little lover looks like and you don't.” Lucy said the Lockwood with a mocking tone. ; Lockwood felt his face warming.

“Firstly, not my lover. We’re peculiar pen pals. Secondly, I have no opinion on their looks. I’ll love them until my last breath exits my lungs. I’ll smile at their voice until my hearing vanishes from old age. My heart will sing at their words until it pumps its last beat.” Lockwood explained, keeping his fast pace. Lucy and George stopped abruptly. Lockwood heard the lack of their steps, turning around. They stared at him.

“What?”

“How can you speak that way about them and then say you aren’t lovers?” Lucy muttered. Lockwood shook his head. George huffed.

“You’re so whipped. I'm not sure if you two actually talk I can handle it. You’ll be drooling the whole time. I’ll have to pick up your jaw to sweep under it.” he whispered, angrily. Lucy nodded.

“Truly, they’re already insufferable. Not sure if I could resist the urge to blow my head off if they kiss.” Lucy said, tossing in an eye-roll. Lockwood felt someone could cook an egg on his cheeks. Lockwood opened his mouth before closing it. he spun around, his coat adding a flare. He stalked off, hearing George and Lucy following after him. They stepped through the door of Arif’s, the bell ringing above them.

Lockwood felt anxiety pull at his stomach. He clutched the letter tighter. George pulled the letter out of his hands and stared at the side of his face.

“Why is your face doing that?” George muttered.

“I’m not sure what to do. The letter just tells me to come here, not where to find the next clue.” Lockwood said, glancing around the shop. No one was behind the counter. There was only one other person in the room, a man sitting in the back hunched over paperwork.

“Maybe we are at the last clue. Maybe they’re here, Lockwood.” Lucy muttered. “I think that's them over there.” She pointed over at the balding man in the corner. Lockwood faked a laugh.

“Please take this seriously.” He whispered. Lucy sighed, placing her hands on her hips. Geoge tutted.

“You should ring the bell, Lockwood,” George muttered. Lockwood steeled himself, marching to the counter and ringing the silver bell. A head popped out from behind the curtain that led to the back. Lucy let out a small gasp. She leaned into Lockwood’s ear.

“That’s them.” Lockwood felt his stomach drop and his heart palpate. He was looking at the kindest person he's ever talked to. He suddenly felt very real. A real human with the chance of being judged. A real person who was extremely vulnerable with someone all because he’d only ever seen their handwriting. and now he was looking into your eyes, knowing you knew more about him than both his friends standing next to him combined. He was right, though. You were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He felt a sense of dread wash over him, you could easily insult him right now. You could easily crawl over the countertop and strangle him. Or worse, judge him. Lockwood felt his cheeks heat as you smiled brightly at him.

“I see you’ve found me.” Lockwood felt the tension in his body release, his shoulder drop. That's what you decided to do when you first met him, smile. Lockwood felt his own smile peak at his lips.

“I did.” He muttered, glancing down at the letter in his hands. You stood across from the other side of the counter.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked. Lockwood’s head shot up, staring at you shocked.

“I could never be dissapointed by you.” You scoffed at him.

“My my you're even cheesier in person.” Lockwood laughed at you, giving you a one-shouldered shrug.

“Are you? Disappointed that is?” Lockwood asked, staring into your eyes. Lockwood noticed his friends had left, sitting at a table. They were staring at him blatantly.

“No. You’re-“ you paused. “You’re, well, Anthony Janthony Lockwood. What isn’t there to like?” Lockwood snorted at his fake middle name. He was right again, Janthony sounded much nicer falling from your lips than George’s. Lockwood jumped at the sound of the owner yelling at you. He mentioned something about not paying you to stand around. You handed Lockwood a donut. He quickly paid you.

“You know, now that we’ve met face-to-face. Would you accompany me on a date?” Lockwood avoided eye contact with you, staring at the doughnut.

“I’d love to.” Lockwood released a breath. He relaxed his shoulders.

“Oh thank god.” You laughed at Lockwood, handing him his change. He smiled at you. Lockwood felt his body heat when your fingers touched. You waved Lockwood off and walked to the table with George and Lucy pretending to gag.

“Glad you met your lover, can we go home now? I'm tired.” George asked. Lockwood nodded.

“Yes, we’re going home now.” Lucy shot up out of her chair, dashing out the door. Lockwood and George were quick to follow. When Lockwood passed the windows to Arif’s he triumphantly pumped his fist. The next morning he found the details of your date tied to his front gate in your handwriting.

[bloxy-cola-drinker]

LONG ASS POST ABT A GOOFY AHH AU IVE BEEN COOKING

APPRENTICESHIP AU??🤑🤑🔥😝🙈

OUTLINE:

a post weirdmageddon AU. essentially Mabel and Dipper stay at the Mystery Shack after Ford offers Dipper the apprenticeship. Mabel and Dipper attend Gravity Falls High. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda remain an iconic trio, accompanied by Pacifica. Dipper and Ford occasionally go off on adventures (in an almost Rick and Morty kind of fashion minus the dynamic) all while Dipper stays at the top of his classes, and still has time to hang with Mabel and her friends (and of course some dipcifica bc i have dipcifica brain worms). of course, it wouldn’t be Gravity Falls if there wasn’t a mystery element. Ford and Dipper have began to receive odd signals in the bunker, they believe it’s Bill trying to communicate with them from the theryaprysm (idk how to spell it).

CHARACTER ROLLS:

Stan: retired from being Mr. Mystery, but still majorly involved in the Shack. embarks in his regular goofy old man activities, also closer to the twins and his brother than ever. allows all of the twins friends so crash at the Shack whenever. an oddly “maternal” “father figure” after the twins’ parents separation.

Ford: much like Bill, is receiving therapy, but only twice a week. he’s finally almost fully recovered from the PTSD Bill caused. he’s in a good place, he’s finally happy! he’s close with his family and trying to put himself out there by joining PTA at Gravity Falls High, because he definitely needs more friends (socializing is important chat). he takes Dipper with him on expeditions, aswell as appointing him as his lab assistant.

Dipper: he’s top of his class, and on the debate team at Gravity Falls High, although he misses lots of school while accompanying Ford and helping out with the sciencey things. adopted into Mabel’s friend group, with Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica.

Mabel: whimsical teenage girl. president of the Gravity Falls High art club, pretty much impossible to hate. working at the counter with Wendy, they spend most of the day gossiping and looking through magazines together. deff a thrifter, thrifts specifically colorful clothes with funky patterns and whimsical jewelry.

Wendy: spends most of her time at the Shack after she got in a fight about going to college instead of becoming a lumberjack. saving up money to go to a community college, that Ford helped choose a few counties over. sleeps on Stan’s old chair most nights. binges movies with Soos (and deff get stoned together 🤫)

Soos: the new Mr. Mystery and soon to marry Melody (who is pregnant with twins)! he turned his break room into a room for him and Melody, and currently building a nursery with Stan. despite all of this, he’s still just as close with Dipper and Mabel.

Candy and Grenda: still Mabel’s #1 girls, deff more involved and both have more complex personalities. Candy and Dipper are academic rivals, but they’re still good friends. Grenda is captain of the Gravity Falls High softball team, and is still with that prince guy.

Pacifica: attends a private school in the next city over and now lives in the second biggest mansion in Gravity Falls after McGucket bought the mannor. finally becoming a more grounded version of her formal self. she still works at the diner and her mom is actively trying to force her into modeling, but she’s more into influencing.

[hairscare]

That'd be helpful, I wanna draw fanart

after many grueling hours they are finally done! ofc their outfits change but these ones give a good idea of how they dress. some design notes and inspiration underneath. im gonna redo their bio sheets at some point soon too so look out for that

in order of the height chart:

dumois: i wanted to make her look kind of like a little kids nursery and also incorporate her astrology interest into her design more so i gave her more charms in her hair and a cute quilt-inspired victorian nightgown. oughh shes so cute i love her sm <3 i think her colors turned out a lot more comprehensive compared to her old design where i threw a bunch of different purples at the wall and they kind of looked bad. now shes so prettyyy and i think the naptime sleepy cowsheepgirl aesthetic has definitely been captured

zubi: their fashion is usually the hardest for me to conceptualize because its like a weird mix of beachy clothes and emo rave... i think this outfit turned out good though, and i really like that the pops of coral/salmon evoke the beach while the dark fishnets evoke deeper dark water. i also almost gave them longer ponytails (think like miku has) bc i thought it would look pretty in water but i decided not to bc everyone else besides gaglug has long hair and i think the weird hair they have now has a good unique silhouette. i also turned their fins the other way so that they would actually be helpful in water

paezel: hes finally buff!!!! the crowd goes wiiiiiiild. he also has his pact tattoo on his arm (its supposed to look like a plant bc thats maeves thing) i feel like the tail kind of went from bovine to almost dragonlike but i actually really like that. i dress him like in the second spongebob movie when theyre in the apocalypse and i love it. not much else to say but i think he definitely looks a lot better

aureus: ok so her design turned out so elaborate that i had to go back and redo the designs i did before hers (dumois, lumiloriol + zubi) so that they wouldnt look lame asf which overally definitely helped their concepts. aureus is supposed to be way more over the top than everyone else but still i mean i cant let the others be flops. shes soooo pretty though i used a reference for her rococo style and it definitely helped a lot. my princess my darling i love youuu

lumiloriol: i usually try to keep their clothes kind of simplistic to highlight their own natural beauty, but i did give them the scarf kind of thing and the train for some layers. for lumiloriol i usually take a lot of inspiration from gothic art especially john martins paradise lost art (because of course) and i definitely feel like i was able to incorporate it. i also think they look super androgynous which i loveee bc angels usually are... they really do look like a fallen angel even if they technically are a step removed

concupiscence: connie i luv uuuuuuuu <3 concupiscence has gone through a lot of different inspirations over the years but ive settled into a britney spears/paris hilton smashup for him and so i based his outfit on various outfits both wore in the early 2000s. shes also got the striped tongue now which i decided to give her a while back bc i think its a fun addition to her design, reminds you that shes a creature. my girly <33333

gaglug: yeah um i got rid of four of its arms... they were making the design wayyy too busy and hard to draw. now it has funny little weird grubby arm thingies though so its okay its still buggy. umm not too much to say here since it doesnt wear clothes but i do love its bug hooves so much :)

anyways i love you my silly 400 year old 20 year olds

[ohodie]

my camp half blood oc ^_^

YALL SHES ADORABLE

her name is odette van schmidt and she’s a child of dionysus 😇

her story is actually rlly funny tbh. makes me crack up a bit. so here it is

basically dionysus met her mum (a rich socialite) at a party she was throwing for the opening of an art gallery, and it was getting late so everyone was going home. odettes mum looked over at dionysus and was like ‘omfg these old geezers r soooo boring. wanna hit the club?’ and dionysus was like ‘have my baby’ SO SHE DID.

9 months later she gave birth to odette van schmidt: the lying, unstable (possible future addict), drama queen JOY of dionysus.

by the time odette turned 14, her mum was like ‘right. this girl needs to get her ass to boarding school’ bc she could not stop CAUSING A RUCKUS. she was a menace during important parties and events- not because she wasn’t good at parties; but because they weren’t fun. while her mum agreed with her, she had grown out of her party girl phase and had to settle down.

well, odette didn’t fight her mums decision to send her to boarding school. after all, that’s where the craziest shit happens, doesn’t it? especially in new york.

so imagine this: odette van schmidt, the pretty girl with weird eyes and designer clothes CHOWING DOWN ON SPECIAL BROWNIES WITH HER ROOMMATE WHO LOOKS LIKE HOMELESS MAN IN A PRETTY GIRLS BODY.

odette could NOT stop getting into trouble. always sneaking off with her friends, partying her weekends away. by the age of 15 she had developed a pretty bad habit of taking a shot of vodka every sunday morning to get through the preachy ass mandatory services.

odettes mum had enough when she found out her daughter wasn’t taking her meds everyday at 8:00, and was instead lighting up at 4:20.

odettes mum had to call her baby daddy and tell him to pick her up for the summer. odette heard this call, and jumped to the conclusion she was getting sent to REHAB. so she ran.

she ran fast and fast and fast and fast. all the way from manhattan to queens.

ofc odette always saw weird shit. but she just always chalked it up to sleep deprivation, adhd, maladaptive daydreaming, and later in her teens: drug induced hallucinations.

after walking around new york aimlessly for 3 hours to escape rehab, her mum gave her a call.

“hey odette… can you come back home? bc ur lowkey a demigod and I WONT SEND YOU TO REHAB BABY IM SORRY I WONT ITS FINE YOU WERE ONLY SMOKING WEED ITS OKAY BABY-”

BOOM. hellhound right in the middle of the dingiest 7/11 in all of queens.

odette booked it- already terrified by what her mum said, and even more so by this terrifying dog thing.

she ran down at alleyway, hoping to escape the gross mangy dog, but she wasn’t fast or sharp enough to lose it or outsmart it. the hellhound attacked her from behind, ripping through the back of her shirt and leaving a scar that ran across the length of her back.

like that shit was BIG. like, from her neck down to her hipbone.

odette was vengeful thoguh. she was more angry than she was in pain, so she took out her pocketknife and started stabbing and punching that thing away. LIKE. HOW WOULD THAT EVEN PROTECT HER FROM A HELLHOUND??? but then the mutt started chasing its tail and howling like crazy, making it easier to put it down like an old dog.

and poof.

into thin air.

“alright what the fuck”

so there she lay- sitting and panting and wheezing in an alleyway, bleeding out. so she decided to pray,

“god i’m sorry for drinking on sundays! i’m sorry for using bible pages to roll! i’ll do anything to make it up to you!”

“girl, it’s fine.”

all of a sudden, there was this middle aged guy in front of her with the same eyes as her and the worst fashion sense she’d ever seen.

“i didn’t know jesus shopped at h&m…”

“jeez, you sound like ur mother.”

after 10 awkward seconds of silence, odette passed the fuck out. bc her back is a war zone. obviously.

when she woke up the next day, she was at the most rank hospital she’d ever been to. but all the doctors were cute. they were all blonde and spoke like poets and had such gentle hands. but they were wearing the most atrocious orange shirts.

good thing I’VE got STY-

odette looked down at herself. “are you fucking kidding me.”

orange was not her colour. it was purple.

after she got all healed up, two blonde 13 year olds who looked just like her arrived at the infirmary. “hiiiiii welcome to rehabbbbbbb”

“oh my god i’m actually going to kill myself”

castor and pollux eventually cleared up mostly everything about camp (after fucking around with their new older sister a bit more, of course), and proceeded to take her to get some food in her tall ass stomach.

she ate. and then she ate a bit more. and then she complained. and then she asked if her mum has her ‘crazy meds’. and then she asked for new clothes. and then she called her mummy and asked her for new clothes or perfume or anything. and then she walked over to the big house to complain about something again.

and as soon as she walked through the doors, screaming about how she can’t party with a torn up back- she was claimed.

“oh my gods odette. we have your stuff. its fine. it’s cool. you’re my daughter btw. and no drinking at camp.”

“… why would my mum fuck a guy who shops at h&m?”

“I DO NOT SHOP AT H&M, I AM A GOD-“

odette blanked. she wasnt really good at faces. much better with names. that’s what u get for being a history buff who can’t make eye contact i guess.

“… which one, sorry?”

“… dionysus?”

“oh. that checks out.”