#the with eyeliner was a key addition to me

[sapphosclown]

i recently was talking to a coworker about agatha all along and i said “i don’t really care about marvel i started it for american joe locke in eyeliner and stayed for the lesbians” and he said “what lesbians?”

and then we continued talking about it. he genuinely did not pick up that agatha and rio were love interests. like i get it you’re a little christian boy but ur not dumb. THEY LITERALLY ALMOST KISSED??

anyway. i think shows should be able to trust their audience’s intelligence to let them piece things together but maybe we need to go back to the basics and make them kiss from the start

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Best Friends, Is That All? - Stiles Stilinski

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Pairing - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Just a regular ride in Stilesʼ jeep…Or it would be, if the love-struck fool could stop asking you how you feel about him. Guess someone's got a different kind of ride in mind...

•Warnings/Content - Pretty much all bases covered, they definitely fuck, tons of begging and mentions of markings and scratching, they use a condom bc SAFETY, oral oral lots of oral, TONS of petnames sorry its cheesy ik but I canʼt help it, lots of praise too bc thatʼs tasty, oh yeah and boys whimpering bc thatʼs just hot asf, they're in love so it's a little fluffier but still VERY spicy

•Word Count - 4.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - As always, just want to write about the spicy ideas I get from having spicy dreams, I feel like this oneʼs a little better than the last one but who knows? >_< /// (YA'LL I EXPECTED LIKE 4 LIKES ON MY SPENCER BLURB AND I GOT OVER 200 TY????? WTF???? )

•Additional Tags - they fuck in the jeep!, stiles is a whore for begging, theyʼre obsessed with eachother ffs, Switch!Stiles but mostly Sub!Stiles, he talks her through it UGH YES, CONSENT IS KEY, heʼs okay with whatever even if that means he doesnʼt get laid, Stiles is one cocky SOB with BDE and just a big dick oops, theyʼre for sure gonna fuck again before the night is over hehehe

“Do you get nervous?ˮ

The question takes me by surprise - Up until now, it had been a normal, routine drive with Stiles, albeit more fidgety than usual from his side. But once the question has left his lips, heʼs even more so, if thatʼs possible.

“Do I…yeah, definitely. Of course I do.ˮ I quirk my eyebrow at him; Heʼs avoiding my eyeline, focused far too much on the road ahead.

Something else, another question maybe, passes his lips, but itʼs far too quiet for me to catch. The poor thing is redder than a tomato, tapping his hands on the wheel as he starts to drive just a little faster unknowingly.

“Huh?ˮ

“A-About…M-mmmmm.ˮ Stiles stutters, dragging out his thought. The jeep seems to follow its driver, stuttering a bit on the road as he pushes the pedal down further.

“Sti, are you okay?ˮ

“Nervous.ˮ He repeats the word like heʼs reading it from a dictionary, not like heʼs using it as a self description. Weʼre getting further into the back roads now, and if I didnʼt know any better, Iʼd think he was bringing me out here to kill me or something.

“Pull over a sec, yeah?ˮ

He nods, bringing the jeep to a crawl along a forest road that could more accurately be called a trail, if anything. The silence is filled only by the bumping of the tires on the gravel, until we reach a stopping point, surrounded by nothing but trees for miles.

“Whatʼs eating at you, Stilinski?ˮ I turn in my seat, eyeing him in the mid-day light. Filtered through the jeep��s dusty windows, he looks like a modern god, and my heart can hardly take it. Iʼve loved this poor boy a long time, but Iʼve never been brave enough to say it. And now, weʼre all alone in the woods for who knows what reason, and Iʼm more nervous than ever.

“Dʼyou ever get nervous…about me?ˮ He manages, his eyes squeezing shut and his fists clenching tight. He lets out a huge breath, then continues in a ramble, “God, I canʼt believe I even just asked that. Holy shit. I mean, you make me so nervous. Dʼyou know that? Youʼre my best friend, and you make me so nervous I feel like I canʼt even breathe, I want you to just reach over and break the distance between us and give in and just take me. God-ˮ

“Sti.ˮ It comes out half-choked. The lump in my throat swells - oh, my god, he likes me too? - as I scoot ever closer to him.

“Oh, of course not,ˮ He sighs, eyes still closed. He doesnʼt see me shift again, within touching distance, he just keeps on with his nervous blabber. “I mean, someone as beautiful as you with a guy like me? Come on, Stiles, get real.ˮ

“Stiles. Look at me, damn it.ˮ Hands shaking, Iʼm reaching over to touch him when he listens to me, turning and looking all in one motion.

“Oh, hi there.ˮ He blurts, flushing crimson.

“Yes, I get nervous about you, too.ˮ I can hardly believe Iʼm uttering the words. But my fear is trumped by the desperate need for him, right here and right now. I canʼt believe of all times and places, this is where itʼs gonna happen, but I donʼt quite care at the same point, either.

“You do?ˮ

“Stiles, I can barely contain myself around you. These past few months especially, I just-ˮ My reaching hands are still hanging near him, and he notices, finally, taking them in his own. I let out a shaking breath, closing my own eyes in desperate need to escape his searching gaze that sends my pulse skyrocketing. “You-Youʼre everything, do you know that? Iʼve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didnʼt think youʼd even look at me like that, I just thought-ˮ

“Best friends, nothing more?�� He chuckles softly, and I can sense the way his lips curl, not even needing to see it to know it. “Yeah, sounds familiar. Hey, look at me. I like you, you idiot.ˮ

My eyes open at the last few words, and seeing it straight from his mouth makes me lose myself for a moment. All I can do is blankly stare, my stomach doing flips. He likes me, he likes me, he likes me!

“Can you say something?ˮ He groans, eyes flicking between my own and down to my mouth. “Like, maybe confirm to me that you like me back? I mean, you kinda said as much, but I just really wanna hear you say it. Can you say it? Is that okay? Youʼre killing me, here-ˮ

“I like you too. Of course I do, who wouldnʼt?ˮ

“You do. For sure? Not just tryna pity me, are you?ˮ He quips, but itʼs clearly halfhearted.

“I really like you, dumbass.ˮ I move closer, dying for something to happen. Anything.

“Are you gonna kiss me now? Or am I gonna kiss you? Somebodyʼs gotta kiss somebody here, or Iʼm gonna lose it. Please, Iʼm begging you.ˮ

“Oh, youʼre begging me now?ˮ I smirk.

“Absolutely I am. If we were outside Iʼd be on my knees for you. Please, just fucking-ˮ He lets go of my hands, reaching for my waist as I grab at his collar.

We meld like itʼs second nature, lips forming together with a satisfied groan from Stiles that makes my legs weak. Somehow, I climb onto him in this cramped little jeep, bumping the steering wheel with my ass. He laughs, almost immediately going back to kissing me, a bit harder now. Itʼs clear in the way I grind my hips down to him with what I feel rising back to meet me that this is gonna take up a lot of our time together today.

I wonder for a moment if anyone will assume what weʼve gotten up to. Of course, Allison knows how I feel about Stiles, Iʼve told her a million times. I wonder if heʼs told Scott. Iʼm sure he has.

“Youʼre thinking too much,ˮ He growls, biting my lip. I moan back. “Thatʼs a lot coming from me,ˮ Another kiss, coming down my jaw now as I catch my breath. “I know. But…what can I do to get your mind back to me, hmm?ˮ

“That. Keep doing that.ˮ My hands tangle in the back of his hair, the tousled sort-of-waves that have grown out as of late being tugged as he nips at my neck.

“You want me to keep begging for you too?ˮ He teases, his lips coming up to my ear. “Cause I can do that all day, baby.ˮ

I nod, unable to grasp words with his breath against me.

“You gonna let me take you here, right now? Itʼs killing me to feel you on me like this and not have you. Please, let me have you, I canʼt stand it.ˮ

“T-tell me what you want me to do.ˮ I grasp harder at his hair, and he lets out a whimper. Oh, my god, that.

“I want you to fuckinʼ destroy me, and Iʼll beg until you do. God, Iʼm shameless, I donʼt even care if weʼre out here all alone or not, just please for the love of fuck, ride me like nothing else matters.ˮ

I pull his lips back to mine, silencing him for a time as we continue to make our own rhythm, learning one another with moans and laughs and tension unparalleled. Itʼs great, too great-I smack my head against the jeepʼs roof, letting out a yelp.

“Oh, shit-ˮ Stiles pulls me down against him, biting his lip when I land.

“Iʼm okay. Ow.ˮ

“How about we move this to the back?ˮ He pops the door open, letting me out first. Despite his words, heʼs back on my neck the moment weʼre outside, making it hard for me to push the seat down to get into the back.

“Stiles…ˮ I sigh, fumbling with the latch.

“Sorry, just want you-god, just want you so bad.ˮ He pulls back, reaching forward and sending the seat down with a practiced grasp.

I clamber inside, watching him hyperfocus on giving us as much room as possible. Front seats pushed down and forward, clutter thrown into the front, then heʼs back on me, kissing me and tugging at my shorts.

“Can I…?ˮ He motions, and I nod, letting him pull them down. His lips come back to mine, his fingers playing at the edge of my panties.

“Please-ˮ

“Youʼre begging now?ˮ He chuckles, his voice lower and throatier. Gods, Iʼm wet as fuck just from that.

“Shamelessly.ˮ I echo his earlier words, earning another small laugh.

“You want me, baby? How bad?ˮ He teases, hand grasping at my hip.

“Real-Really bad. Want you so bad, want you to-ˮ I canʼt even finish the thought, as he presses against my clit with his thumb. I moan, bucking up against him.

“Sorry, Iʼm impatient, you know that.ˮ He amends, kissing down my jaw and pulling back. He sits me up against the door, pulling my legs up and pressing a deep kiss against my opening. “Youʼre soaking, I can tell even through these little things.ˮ

I shudder, eyeing him in between my legs. Itʼs a sight to behold, and he isnʼt even getting started yet.

“Howʼs about we take em off, huh? Donʼt need these where weʼre going.ˮ He discards the fabric, and when his eyes meet the heat pooling below my belly, his jaw goes slack. I could almost swear he was drooling.

For a moment, Iʼm self conscious, folding in on my body under his gaze. But he holds my thighs back down, shaking his head.

“Uh-uh. No shame, right, princess?ˮ He hovers over me, eyes flicking back and forth between his focus and my face. “Now, you just let me know what feels good and what doesnʼt, okay? Wanna make sure you enjoy yourself.ˮ

“Stiles, Iʼm dying here, please just touch me already.ˮ

He smirks, another shake of the head, this one with a cocky air to it.

“If you insist, sweetheart.ˮ He brings his lips down to meet my opening, licking a stripe up that sends my hands grasping at the jeepʼs seat.

“Sti-ˮ

He hums against me, his grip on my thighs tightening. A few more precise licks, and heʼs delving into my core, filling the jeep with my desperate cries. Fuck, heʼs good, and Iʼm already closer by the minute.

“Taste so good, baby…ˮ He murmurs, getting lost in the task as my hands tug at his hair. When he shifts up to suck at my clit, the noise it brings from me is almost inhuman. “Feel good?ˮ

“Yes- oh my god, yes-ˮ

“Want more? How does this feel, hmm?ˮ He presses a finger to my opening, and I push against him, wordlessly begging. He chuckles, pushing it in fluidly. One, a few motions, and clearly Iʼm still desperate so he adds in another. “Talk to me, baby. Use your words.ˮ

“You want me to talk right now?ˮ I moan, my mind spinning in the pleasure-filled void heʼs trapped me in.

“I know, itʼs just too good, huh? You donʼt have to talk, your noises are more than enough.ˮ He curls his fingers, pulling against a sweet spot that has me crying out.

“Stiles!ˮ

Back down to me with his lips now, too, I can feel the smirk that starts up hearing me say his name like that. He knows exactly where he has me, and heʼs gonna relish in it. Not only are his fingers working magic now, but along with his tongue? Iʼm gonna break, and he knows it.

“Iʼm-Oh, donʼt stop-ˮ

A hummed approval is all I get from the usually chatty lips of Stiles Stilinski, his beard that heʼs let grow in recently brushing over me while he brings me to the edge. Iʼm practically drowning in the pleasure, and heʼs the air I need. One more fluid motion, just the right one, and Iʼm spilling curses from my mouth and wetness from my heat. He laps it up heartily, a satisfied groan from the recess of his throat vibrating against me.

“You…I just…wow.ˮ He pauses for a moment to look over me with a smile beginning to tug at the corner of his lips. I flush, back to being nervous under his eye.

“Stunned you into silence, eh, Stilinski?ˮ

“Oh, Iʼm far from done. Just figured Iʼd give you a break.ˮ He quips with a smirk.

“I donʼt need one.ˮ I blurt, the words faster than my brain.

“No?ˮ He laughs. “Okay, then. Well, if thatʼs the case, Iʼm begging you to get back to being all over me.ˮ

“In what way?ˮ I smirk, looking at his coated fingers.

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Funny.ˮ Keeping up eye contact, he licks his fingers clean. He seems to enjoy the groan it elicits from me. “Like that, huh? Iʼm looking forward to finding out what else you like.ˮ

I sit up, pressing to him once again. He tastes like me, and chuckles against my kiss. The clink of undoing his belt buckle becomes the sounds of rustling fabrics, my shirt tossed, his gone. His chest to mine, warm and inviting, and his pants kicked to the side. I fumble with my bra, my cheeks red.

“I…ˮ

“Yʼknow we can stop anytime, yeah?ˮ He amends, sensing my hesitation. “Like, of course Iʼm okay with whatever, I want you in all the ways. But only if youʼre comfortable. Consentʼs important.ˮ

“Oh, I want you. I want all of you, of course I do.ˮ I sigh. “Just…real nervous about how I look.ˮ

“You?ˮ Heʼs incredulous, pulling back and sweeping my body with his gaze. “Holy shit, no way. Nuh uh. You, youʼre…God, youʼre gorgeous, are you kidding me? Every part of you fits just right with the other, promise. You donʼt have to do anything you donʼt wanna do, but you gotta know that. You gotta know Iʼm gonna love how you look. I donʼt even need to have seen it yet to know. You just…are.ˮ

Iʼve been rendered speechless, and all I can do is take it off while he rambles.

“Not to say that you gotta just cause Iʼm saying all this. You get that, right? Iʼm not saying it just to get you to-ˮ He stops cold when Iʼve tossed the bra, my hands still hiding the majority of my chest. With a gentle grasp, he reaches to uncover me. “Can I…?ˮ

“Yeah, Iʼm just nervous.ˮ

“Thatʼs okay. Me, too. Youʼre beautiful though.ˮ He lifts my cover away softly, eyeing me with precision and adoration. He pokes at the moles and freckles that adorn my upper body, smiling as his eyes meet mine again. “See? Perfect. Nothing to worry about.ˮ

“Stiles, I adore you.ˮ I blurt, tears starting to form.

“Oh, sweetie.ˮ He pulls me closer, kissing my nose. “We can stop if youʼre really too nervous. I donʼt mind. Iʼll just jack off later or something, no big.ˮ

I snort at his words. “As much as Iʼd love to watch that. No, Iʼm okay. Just needed a moment, I guess. Trust me, Iʼm still dying for you.ˮ

His face goes red. “Youʼd- huh? Wow, thatʼs an image. Maybe another time, yeah? No shortage of things to think about for that, especially now Iʼve seen you and itʼs not just my imagination spurring me on.ˮ

“Youʼll have more to go on soon, too.ˮ I pull him back down onto me, kissing him.

“Fuck, youʼre hot.ˮ He moans. “Youʼre killing me.ˮ

“Destroying you,ˮ I correct him. “Thatʼs what you wanted, isnʼt it?ˮ

“Still want it,ˮ He grasps at me, nothing but his boxers to hide that want now. “Very much still want it.ˮ

More kissing ensues, and weʼre groping at eachother like weʼre high-schoolers again. Somehow, at some point, heʼs as bare as I am now and the way weʼre pressed to one another is the most tempting thing Iʼve ever experienced in my entire life.

“Hey, so, uh- not to seem like a copycat or anything, but…ˮ He breathes against my lips, his voice catching. “Yʼknow, nervous about how I look, now that Iʼm thinking about it. Not really very manly of me, I know, whatever.ˮ

“Fuck manliness,ˮ I amend, letting him pull back. “Youʼre perfect, you…oh, how could you not be?ˮ

What a sight he is to behold, in all his naked glory. Goosebumps pepper my skin as I look him over, from the moles that adorn him across his body the same way they do across his face, to the burning red that sits underneath his pale skin…to of course what heʼs referencing concern over the most. And thereʼs certainly none needed, in my opinion. No concerns, except how Iʼm gonna need to stretch out around that. Oh, my.

“Stiles…ˮ My voice, my gaze, softens. His shoulders drop. “Youʼre stunning.ˮ

“Not just saying that, are you?ˮ He brushes non-existent dirt from his shoulder. “My ego will be sorely bruised.ˮ

“Should I tell you or should I show you?ˮ I lick my lips, gaze going between his legs and back to his face. The noise he makes would be comical in any other circumstance.

“Fuck, definitely show me.ˮ

Now, itʼs his turn to lie back, and Iʼm in control. I must have absolutely stunned him, because heʼs got nothing to say, just watching me as I lower over him. Once I begin to kiss at and lick stripes over him, though, heʼs got plenty to say - I donʼt recognize half the curses he lets fly, they must be Polish or something. But fly they do, and his hand is at my hair when I start to take him in my mouth, grasp tight.

“Oh, my god-ˮ

I keep it up until he stops me a few moments later, a funny little quirk to his brows.

“God, I donʼt ever wanna stop this, but if you keep going like that Iʼm gonna fuckinʼ bust, and I gotta know what you feel like riding me first, please?ˮ He reaches blindly around, cursing. “Fuckinʼ - just need my wallet, whereʼd my jeans go?ˮ

I laugh, pulling back to help his search. When he comes up with the item in question, I understand- protection, no shit.

“Yeah, okay, now Iʼm ready.ˮ He nods after heʼs prepared himself, sitting up against the seat. He helps position me over him, eyes locked. “Oh, my god, is this actually real? I feel like Iʼm in some kinda magical dream.ˮ

“Very real. I remember what I had for breakfast and everything.ˮ I quip, trying to ease the nerves. They wonʼt go, though, and the knot in my stomach is ever-tighter as he brushes against my opening. “Fuck, I want you inside me, now.ˮ

“Kinda up to you, there.ˮ He holds me tight around the waist, eyes pleading. “Iʼm ready when you are, though, rock my fuckinʼ world sweetheart.ˮ

“Fuuuuuck, youʼre tight.ˮ He groans. “So thatʼs how you feel. No imagination or anything my hands can do compares to that.ˮ

The need is too great to put it off any longer; I let myself push down to meet him, the entering gasps we let out mingling in the short bit of air between us. His head falls back, his hands only guides as I bring myself further down, slowly, slowly, slowly. I take a moment around the first few inches to breathe; as ridiculous as it sounds, Iʼve never had someone quite as…gifted as him.

“Iʼm only getting started,ˮ I reply. “Genuinely, in all honesty, not a joke or anything. Youʼre…a lot to take.ˮ

“Having fun strokinʼ my ego?ˮ He chuckles.

“Tilʼ you give me something else to stroke.ˮ

“Fuck, thatʼs a promise.ˮ He ruts up against me, bringing a cry from my lips. “Shit, sorry, reflex. You feel so good, I just want more of you. Did I hurt you?ˮ

“No, it felt too good.ˮ I admit. “Just taking it slow cause Iʼm not really used to anything this…ˮ

“Big?ˮ Heʼs got the widest smirk on his face now.

“Howʼs that for your precious ego?ˮ I flirt, pushing down another bit with a sharp breath. The stretching pain is worth it for the look on his face.

“My ego is just fine. Big, just like my- Oh, my god-ˮ He stutters out, his bravado going out the window when I start to rock my hips back and forth. And was that a whimper? “Oh, please donʼt stop, keep going. Oh, god-ˮ

“Long as you keep begging.ˮ

The more I move, the easier it gets to take him, until Iʼm fairly close to bottoming out. Heʼs holding me closer than ever, kissing me whenever he gets the chance to, and the noises and whimpers havenʼt stopped. It spurs me, the collision of our bodies growing ever-faster as he cries my name and begs me not to stop. I wonʼt, I canʼt, itʼs all too good and Iʼm chasing a high that I find myself soon riding out onto him. Now, Iʼll be the one saying his name, his real name.

“God, that sounds so good coming from you,ˮ He moans, “Iʼve never heard it sound so good.ˮ

“Hereʼs to many more.ˮ I stutter out between the motions weʼre making and the sounds accompanying. Heʼs less in control now, thrusting up to meet me and pushing me down to him. Heʼs made plenty of marks on me, from the hickeys littering my skin to the surefire bruising my hips will have from his grasp. I can only hope to either hide whatʼs visible or risk the teasing the pack will no doubt give us later.

“Please, take me all the way, Iʼll help you through it.ˮ He begs, kissing me again once Iʼve come down far enough. “Youʼve got this, baby, please?ˮ

No words, just a resolute nod, and his response is a repeated thanks. I push further, to the very end of him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Good, baby- fuck , youʼre doing good, pretty girl. So good, so good for me. There you go.ˮ He kisses my burning skin, the devouring fire weʼve made together consuming us both as I shift around under his grasp. He doesnʼt force, only guides, and makes a rhythm for me to follow with sputtered curses abounding. “God, you feel so good. Does it feel good for you? Hurt?ˮ

“Only enough to make me want it more,ˮ I moan, letting my head drop to his shoulder. “F-fuck me.ˮ

“Is that a statement or a request?ˮ He doesnʼt wait for an answer as I slow, taking the lead and snapping up into me. Once, twice, I lose count. He seems to get lost, too, senseless mumbles and moans filling the jeep as my hand streaks the fogged window. Heʼs entirely filled me up, and I want for nothing more than to go until I canʼt anymore.

He guards my head when I raise back up, making sure I wonʼt hit the roof again, and when it starts to rain in the secluded forest weʼve hidden ourselves in, itʼs not the only thing sending waves crashing down around us. Another thing I lose count of - heʼs far too good at this, and I tell him so.

“Been thinkinʼ about this for a while, so that counts as practice, yeah?ˮ The sweat sticks a bit of his hair to his forehead, and he looks about ready to tire out.

“You losing steam on me?ˮ I tease, brushing his hair back.

“Hell, no!ˮ He groans when I move my hips, sat bottomed out but doing nothing else. “Iʼm pretty close, thatʼs all. But when Iʼm done with you here Iʼm not done with you for the night, if youʼre willing.ˮ

“Well, if youʼre close…ˮ My lips curl deviously, and I bring myself back to the pace and movement that had had him howling earlier. Heʼs back to it in an instant, but his whines are more pronounced, drug out.

“Fuck, please, please donʼt stop-ˮ

“Gonna cum for me?ˮ

“Y-yes, yes-ˮ

“Good.ˮ Itʼs like a growl from me, and his cries only grow from it, until Iʼm sure at least anyone with supernatural hearing can catch onto us if theyʼre anywhere near.

“Oh- Oh, my god, Iʼm gonna-ˮ Stiles holds me tight, the most animalistic noise of it all loosing from his lips as he loads the condom full inside me. Weʼre hot, sweaty, and as close together as we possibly can be, but he still pulls me closer, taking a deep, heavy breath.

“So…how was I?ˮ

His laugh is quick, choked.

“Are you serious? Fuck, that was amazing. Iʼd just as soon do it again, but Iʼm…a little depleted at the moment.ˮ He eyes where we meet with an eyebrow wiggle. “Hey, we just had sex.ˮ

“That we did.ˮ I laugh.

“You and me, best friends. Just had sex. Well, we might wanna rethink that whole just best friends idea, huh?ˮ He kisses my cheek, letting out a content sigh. “No rush on that, Iʼm just talking. You know how I get. Just…excited that this happened. That it is happening. And…Iʼd be okay with calling you something more than my best friend. If youʼre into that.ˮ

“Very much into that.ˮ

“So…girlfriend?ˮ

“Shit, I was gonna say fiancee or wife. Or soulmate.ˮ

His eyes bug for a moment, then he starts to laugh.

“Youʼre fuckinʼ with me. Youʼre hilarious. Alright, girlfriend-future-fiancee-wife-soulmate-whatever-you-want, howʼs that sound?ˮ

“A little long, if Iʼm being honest.ˮ

“Long didnʼt seem to bother you just a moment ago.ˮ

“Mieczyslaw!ˮ

“Still sounds beautiful cominʼ from you. Like…ˮ He catches my glare, and smirks. “Nevermind. Letʼs get this cleaned up and head back, huh? Thereʼs a pizza about to be made with our names on it.ˮ

[wildharesandboundteeth]

A subtle and low energy form of worship inspired by Chaos Magick and Sigils

So this one's a bit of basic Chaos magick I've been using for years to charge my sigils. It's slow but steady form of charging sigils that also adds a more 'personal touch' compared to charging with the moon and/or sun. Basically you just put the sigil on a body part with the intention of it being worship.

I am not the first one to do this but I figured that it might be good to share this knowledge to more people.

The basic formula is your God's symbol/ a correspondence of them on or against your body with the intention to dedicate each action of that body part to them.

A choker with a bird pendant dedicating every word you say to Hermes. (Good for presentations and for shit talking with the boys.)

Some examples:

(helpol specific because I'm more familiar with them at this moment)

A rose on your chest,/shirt/bra/binder with the intention of dedicating every heart beat to Aphrodite. (Low energy, more consistent and makes you feel hotter than usual. ;) )

Athena's name written on your finger to dedicate each word written to Her. (Good for homework though try not too write anything too stupid (very difficult for me).)

Ares's symbol painted on the bottom of your exercise shoe's inner sole with the intent to dedicate workout to Him. (Who knows? He might join you (and put you to shame).)

Ways to mark yourself:

I used to use this method with the elemental alchemical signs as well back when I worshipped/drew power from them more often. Holy book versus, sacred numbers, ect. can also work. Heck, maybe even write the entire Mahabharata on yourself.

Non-toxic marker / pen

Water / soil / ash / powder of ground herbs or flowers (non-toxic)

Temporary tattoo / Henna / actual tattoo

Sewing / embroidery / iron-on patches / fabric marker / washable fabric crayons

Honey / milk / yogurt / lotion (all good for the skin)

Face paint / graphic eyeliner / make up (especially foundation you're going to blend)

Just tracing the symbol with a finger

Suggestions

Tip: if you're going with more subtle correspondence (like a drawing of their animal) as opposed to just writing their name or symbol, it's good to do a ritual/ a small prayer to inform them. Just telling them can work too if you're too exhausted for those.

The same effect can be achieved with key chains, stuffed toys, taglocks, ect but I personally like this method as it's something I'm familiar with. It's also harder to forget to do bring something along if it's on your body (yes, I am calling myself out). It also feels more personal.

Disclaimer: Please only do this for gods/entities you know and have a relationship with. I would also advise against doing this to a god that has rejected/not answered your requests to work with them. And please don't mark yourself with a god that you straight up do not know anything about.

I sometimes put wellness sigils for my loved ones on my pulse point(s) or along my chakras with henna. It's slow but with time, it's really builds up.

More rambling

Nowadays, I always make sure to always have the sigils for Lord Hermes and Lord Ares on my foot so I can dedicate each step I take to them. I usually dedicate longer walks to *runs to them but I feel like having a physical 'anchor' helps me concentrate the energy and intent. It also helps if I just plain forget to dedicate a walk to them.

*Disclaimer: author of this post only runs for the bus or because they're late. In no way are they healthy nor disciplined.

In addition to all the worship stuff, it also feels comforting to having something of my loved ones near me/ on me. It reminds me that I am (somehow) loved and that there's something to fight for. Though I might just be getting sentimental in my young age.

So that's my suggestion for you lovely people. I hope to helps inspire someone or something. If anyone has any other suggestions, ideas or constructive feedback, please let me know.

[vintagecoochie]

I come from a toxic and pathological home… I don't know much about self-care and things like that… can you give me some advice? I would like to start this… I never had a mother to teach me this and I'm on unfamiliar ground… I can't even put on makeup because it was forbidden.

First of all, I'm so sorry that you weren't allowed to experiment with self-care in your upbringing and I think it's great you want to take the initiative to learn now. I started getting into self-care around 13 and I think I can give a fairly simple and affordable run down. *take notes*

Skincare: The key to skincare is learning what your skin type is (dry skin, oily skin, or combination) and what issue you want to fix (hyperpigmentation, teen acne, etc). Then try to develop a morning and night routine that you do EVERY DAY. The simpler your routine is the better. 5 steps is usually normal. Invest in a good cleanser, exfoliator, moisturizer, serum, and SPF. There's a great YouTuber named Hyram who suggests great products for all different skin types. I suggest watching a few of his videos and taking notes.

Hair: Hair Care is different for everyone. Always look at hair tutorials and wash routines from people who have the same hair texture as you, and same hair struggle as you (length, frizz, split ends, etc.).

Always go for the slightly more expensive hair care products (but it doesn't have to be anything crazy) and try to avoid parabens if you can.

Keep your hair wrapped at night with a bonnet or silk wrap so it's preserved

Wash, Condition, and Moisturize it regularly

Keep it styled even if the style is a simple ponytail. You'll eventually find your signature style.

Body/Fragrance: Invest in some smell-good lotions, soaps, body scrubs, and perfumes.

Decide how you want to smell/feel every day.

Some really basic scents are cotton candy, vanilla, and strawberry but you can experiment.

Bodycology and Treehut have really good scents for an affordable price and can usually be found in Walmart or Target.

Makeup: If you're a beginner I'd search "Natural Everyday Makeup" tutorials on YouTube and take notes from women who are the same color as you.

Usually, a little concealer under the eyes, a nice sharpened eyebrow, a little eyeliner wing, mascara, and lip-gloss will suffice for beginners.

You'll need to buy a setting spray so your makeup doesn't melt throughout the day, a beauty blender, and a concealer brush.

Additional Tips

Make an "It Girl" playlist that you listen to in the morning or whenever you're getting ready with music that makes you feel pretty.

Buy a nail filer kit and keep your fingers and toenails filed and polished with a simple clear nail polish.

Dedicate relaxation time to yourself. This can be watching chick flicks on the weekend, or taking yourself out to eat when you have free time. Get used to treating yourself here and there.

I hope this helps and enjoy your journey💕✨

[skinbeautystore]

Fall 2024 Makeup Trends: Lipstick Shades You Can’t Miss

Fall 2024 Makeup Trends: The Bold and Beautiful Lipstick Shades to Wear

Introduction to Fall 2024 Makeup Trends

Are you excited for fall? I am shamelessly “basic” – pumpkin spice lattes, boots with fur, cozy blankets and books, I love it all. That doesn’t mean we have to look basic. As the leaves begin to change, we too have the opportunity to transform our beauty looks. Fall 2024 make up trends celebrate a whole spectrum of colors that complement diverse skin tones. Everyone has the chance to stand out! TikTok has opened an entire world of art and cosmetics. In reality, however you want to express yourself is the best way to do fall. Be a trendsetter! All we know is, BOLD is BETTER. See for yourself and look at New York Fashion week at its peak. Get inspired! The Evolution of Fall Makeup

The best fall makeup trends used to be Autumn “basic”. The fashion and beauty industry loved muted and beige colors as the seasons shifted. Gone are those days! New beauty includes vampy hues, bold reds, and moody plums. These deeper tones and lip colors are taking the limelight in fall 2024. Remember how the smokey eye took the world by storm? This is now the case with lip colors, and it isn't going anywhere. You can thank makeup artist Pat McGrath who is known for her innovative artistic approach to makeup. We are seeing a more expressive approach to how we apply our makeup. This means incredible lip shades and luminous skin. We continue to love a smokey eye, but we want to incorporate defined brows and natural lashes. By combining classic and contemporary, you will nail autumn 2024. Key Features of This Season's Trends Red lipstick is heading the charge this season. A blend of matte and glossy finishes is the ideal look. To achieve this look, we want to incorporate bright hues with monochromatic eyeshadows. Use an eyeliner pencil and false lashes to add to vogue appearance. For the face, make sure to use softer powder blush to illuminate the skin. This will lead to a no-makeup makeup look. Really lean into maximalism and express yourself! Think about what really defines you and what kind of personalized beauty routine works for your lifestyle. It will help give you a foundation for what to look for. Importance of Lipstick in Fall Makeup This is such an easy and fun way to transform your look. Think about what it means to sport a bold red lip – it’s a declaration of confidence. This look is iconic, and you can definitely pull it off. Make sure to experiment with different textures and hues! Try to see how a glossy lip and matte or a combination looks for you. Every hue is going to give off a specific vibe. For instance, a dark blood red feels moodier than a cute coral pink. Bold color lipsticks are back in full force! You can easily create a stunning fall makeup look for everyone.

Exploring the Hottest Lipstick Colors

Be sure to read this whole section! One of the biggest Fall makeup trends of 2024 is stunning lip color. The trick is to find something that supplements your skin tone. Colors like chocolate browns for deep complexions and earth tones for fair skin are perfect. We are here to guide you when picking out the best lip color. Classic Red Lips: A Timeless Choice This look has transcended time and is quintessential. Most of us think courage and elegance when someone wears a red lipstick. For me, I think of Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, and Betty Boop. Dare to be brave! This color is for everyone. In addition, celebrity makeup artists recommend using a soft, rosy blush and subtle highlighter with red lips for a doll-like complexion. Red is so versatile that it is great for all skin types. It’s a universal favorite and always has a place in the beauty world. Here are a few of our favorite red lipsticks that might appeal to you! Lipstick Queen Sinner -.12 oz - Fire Red Youngblood Mineral Crème Lipstick  Sothys Rouge Intense Sothys Satin Lipstick - 240 Rouge Drouot Moody Hues for a Dramatic Look

Personally, I am feeling the dramatic look this fall 2024. This includes a deep plum, charcoal, or burgundy color. I like the aesthetic, especially paired with a smoky eye or simple eye liner. You can soften the look with a muted blush. It looks sophisticated, bold, and screams HBIC. Make sure your lips are the primary focus for your makeup routine if drama is for you! Here’s a good starting point for different skin tones and different autumnal vibes.      Fair Skin Tones – Sophisticated, soft drama, and elegance for everyday wear: Deep Plum - Lipstick Queen Big Bang Illusion Gloss - .37 oz - Black Hole  Berry Red - Lipstick Queen Vesuvius Liquid Lipstick - 0.08 oz - Vesuvian Fuchsia Muted Mauve -       Cool Skin Undertones – Think romantic, warm, earthy Rich Burgundy - Lipstick Queen Seven Deadly Sins - 0.12 oz Dark Rose - Sothys Rouge Intense Sothys Satin Lipstick - 233 Rose Auteuil  Spiced Cinnamon - A warm, earthy tone that flatters beautifully.      Warm Skin Undertones – Drop Dead Gorgeous! Rich, drama, enhance golden tones. Wine Red - Complements the green undertones of olive skin. Dark Chocolate Brown - Sothys Rouge Doux Sothys Sheer Lipstick - 120 Prune Alexandre III  Rusty Brick - Lipstick Queen Seven Deadly Sins - 0.12 oz - Anger Dark Skin Tones – Luminous, striking, adventurous, and unique Black Cherry - Lipstick Queen Bete-Noire Lipstick 0.12 oz - Possessed Sheer  Cranberry Lipstick Queen Seven Deadly Sins - 0.12 oz - Lust Midnight Blue - Lipstick Queen Seven Deadly Sins - 0.12 oz - Envy Vampy Shades that Make a Statement Have you experimented with vampy lip shades yet? There's a good chance you will see more of this style as the chill in the air grows. It's edgier and more dramatic than moody hues. Think rich tones like red and black. It’s inspired by a grunge aesthetic – perfect for Halloween time. One thing to keep in mind is to have a matte finish. Refine the look by adding defined brows and fluttery false lashes. Work black eyeliner around the corners of the eyes for a pronounced face. If you’re daring, try using a lip pencil for a more pristine lip. Gothic glam Maybe it’s the resurgence of gothic classics, but this look is also in style. If you’re looking for an edgier and darker style, this is the place to go. It’s very similar to the vampy look but has more emphasis on the drama. For instance, you want to go with a dark shade, but also a very dramatic eye look. I recommend putting black eyeliner on your eyelid and take your finger to smudge it a little. My favorite beauty trend is cat-eye style line which is another thing I'd add to my look. If you want to go further don’t use any blush or highlighter! You may want to contour a little bit to make your cheekbones more prominent. Gothic glam is back and truly, this is just counterculture – Siouxie Sioux would be proud!

Textural Trends: Matte vs. Glossy

The Rise of Matte Lipsticks Can you believe that matte is making a comeback? A flat matte pigment usually stays on longer and has a distinct look. It doesn’t fade over time as much as glossy lipsticks which dominates the other seasons. Using a matte finish will guarantee that your lips will be the focal point of your whole ensemble. You can also express your own unique style with confidence! Glossy Finishes for a Fresh Appeal I get it, sometimes the texture of matte isn’t for everyone. Not only that, but if you want to have a dewier look then glossy finishes are the way to go. Balms are nice to keep your lips hydrated and youthful. Makeup artists tend to use glosses to add dimension to the lips. It’s also perfect for reaching the natural makeup style. There’s a lot of great ways of using lip gloss that may be better for the style you’re going for. How to Choose the Right Texture for Your Look We recommend experimenting with various textures. This can make or break your overall vibe or appearance. It also depends on how you express yourself. For example, are you wanting to daring look for a wedding or a night out with friends? A glossy finish is great for daytime events because it brightens and lifts your makeup. On the other hand, a matte finish looks mysterious and elegant during the evening. It’s important to consider your skin tone and texture. Ultimately, we want you to feel beautiful and empowered with this season's beauty trends! Tips for a Flawless Application You want to look perfect when striding in with a bold color of lipstick. Let's breakdown the proper steps of application. First, make sure to use a hydrating balm on your lips. This will smoothen your lips when applying whatever lipstick. Think of your lips like a canvas to paint on! Next choose a lipliner that complements your chosen shade. If you aren’t looking for a feathered look, the lip liner will keep the color within the confines of the lip! Next, use a brush to apply your lipstick – believe it or not you will have more control over a brush and won’t go outside the lines. For a 3D look, add gloss on top. Your lips will stay vibrant and keep their shape throughout the day.

Complementary Makeup Elements

Matching Eyeliner for a Cohesive Look It’s important to have a cohesive makeup look this Fall 2024. One of the best ways to do this is finding the right eyeliner. Honestly, it really depends on what kind of look you’re going for. A dramatic look would benefit from a black or dark plum pencil eyeliner. Something a little more natural are different shades of brown. Both will make your eyes pop! Look naturally luminous for autumn. Highlighter and Blush to Enhance Features Believe it or not, highlighters and blush are extremely trendy right now. Maintaining that naturally bold makeup style is one of the biggest Fall 2024 makeup trends. If you use a gentle highlighter, it will illuminate your cheekbones. This pairs well with the season’s dramatic lips. For deeper lip colors you will want to add a small amount of warmth on your cheeks. Pay attention to different pigments of blush, this shouldn’t be dramatic and very subdued. If want to spruce up the look a bit further, just add a little glitter to your cheeks! A small amount of each is enough to make a basic makeup look transform into effortlessly glamorous!  Sometimes adding bronzer will give you a touch of a sun-kissed face. I try to give my face a little sparkle even as the days get darker. Contour and diffuse for more depth and sophisticated appearance. Creating a Monochromatic Makeup Look The monochromatic style is gaining traction this fall 2024. This is the perfect balance to the pop of color from your lips. It is also a classic look across the entire globe. The goal is to see how far we can stretch one color. This requires some skill, but it’s easy to maintain and portable. Get the look you need with this secret beauty hack. Find a natural eyeshadow beauty palette and a pencil to match. For fair skin, you should try soft earth tones or seek rich chocolate browns for deeper complexions.

Final Touches: Accessories and Application Tips

The Role of Eyelash Enhancements For the perfect fall makeup look, make sure to check out some false lashes. This is such an easy way to elevate your makeup routine. It’s your choice, you can grab long luxurious lashes or something a little more natural and fuller. This will easily go with your lip look! In addition, you can always find an easy mascara to use daily. This will help lengthen your lashes and enhance your eye makeup. Your eyes will captivate and awe whoever is in your presence. Glo Skin Beauty Volumizing Mascara Black - 0.57 oz (111-1) Jane Iredale Purelash Lengthening Mascara, 0.25 oz  Using the Right Tools: Eyeliner Pencils and Brushes Lastly, you want to grab pencils and brushes. There are so many ways to apply a lip or eye pencil. First, eyeliner pencils will help with creating defined lines for an intense or effortless makeup look. For your lips, you can have a solid line or even feather the color onto your lips. You will standout with both pencil liners in your arsenal. Make sure you have a set of great makeup brushes to use for eyes and or lips. For eyeshadow, a nice brush will help you achieve that smokey eye look. Brushes will help you achieve that precise and sophisticated look. Plus, it’s less messy! It makes a big difference having both brushes and pencils in your makeup bag. Look at these fantastic fall colors to celebrate the changing of the seasons. Don’t be afraid to stand out. Check out Fall 2024's biggest makeup trends in other places for more inspiration. Stay tuned for more skin and beauty tips on our blog! Read the full article

[nervouscupcakecreation]

The Power of Inkey Collagen Peptide Serum: Unveiling the Secrets to Youthful Skin

Introduction: Cosmetics have always been a fascinating realm, offering endless possibilities to enhance our beauty and embrace self-expression. As a cosmetic enthusiast and expert, I have come across numerous products that claim to work wonders for the skin. However, one product that has truly captured my attention is the Inkey Collagen Peptide Serum Boots. This article aims to delve into the world of this remarkable serum, combining personal experience, research data, ingredient analysis, cultural perspectives, and sustainability concerns.

Personal Experience and Perspective: Having personally used the Inkey Collagen Peptide Serum Boots, I can vouch for its efficacy in rejuvenating the skin. From reducing fine lines and wrinkles to improving overall elasticity, this serum has left me with a youthful glow. Its lightweight texture absorbs quickly without leaving any greasy residue—a true game-changer in my skincare routine.

Research and Investigation Data: To provide credibility and authority to this article, extensive research on market trends, consumer preferences, and the cosmetics industry’s development direction is conducted. Statistical information is introduced to highlight the rising demand for collagen-based serums like Inkey’s.

In-depth Exploration of Cosmetic Ingredients: Delving deep into cosmetic ingredients is crucial when examining their impact on our skin quality. We explore how collagen peptides work synergistically with other components in this serum to boost collagen production and promote firmness. Additionally, we discuss other key ingredients such as hyaluronic acid for hydration and antioxidants for protection against free radicals.

Cultural and Historical Perspectives: Makeup has played a significant role throughout history in different cultures worldwide. This section explores how cosmetics have evolved over time—from ancient Egypt’s use of kohl eyeliner to modern-day beauty rituals rooted in cultural traditions.

Discuss Sustainability and Environmental Protection Issues: As consumers become increasingly conscious of the environmental impact of their choices, sustainability in cosmetics is gaining momentum. We examine the growing demand for sustainable beauty products and how the industry is responding with eco-friendly packaging, cruelty-free practices, and clean formulations.

Conclusion: The Inkey Collagen Peptide Serum Boots stands out as a noteworthy addition to any skincare routine. With its impressive results, backed by personal experience and research data, this serum has earned its place as an effective tool in combating signs of aging. By exploring cultural perspectives and addressing sustainability issues, we can fully appreciate the broader context in which cosmetics operate today.

[nm3217amandawan]

Assignment 3_W2_A0203765E_AmandaJuliaWanHuiLing

Upon receiving the brief, I was a little flustered as this was the most complex design project that I had encountered thus far. Creating an entire visual piece from scratch was something that was completely new to me and I was not sure if I had the necessary abilities. Yet despite my reservations, I was excited to take on the challenge and started brainstorming ideas.

At first, I wanted to make an infographic on road safety but I struggled to decide on an angle for my research, statistics, and presentation. I was unsure if I wanted to approach the topic from the perspective of drivers or pedestrians, and I found it tough to synthesise both viewpoints as they target opposite ends of the spectrum. Moreover, since I do not have a driver's license I did not feel qualified to create a comprehensive infographic from a driver's perspective because I was worried that I might miss out on some key points.

From there, I drew inspiration from other aspects of my life and decided to make an infographic on the public transportation system in Singapore, a topic that I am familiar with as a frequent user. I was more confident in my abilities to select appropriate research areas and relevant statistics that made sense for the infographic. Also, in comparison to my previous topic, I knew that I would be able to recreate public transport visual icons more accurately since they are things that I interact with daily. After some contemplation and experimentation, I decided that I wanted the main visuals of my design to seem fluid - this would represent the mobility of the transportation system. I did not stick to a particular colour palette, opting for something that stuck to the "real" colours of the elements. Since a majority of people deal with public transport every day, I thought it would be apt to retain the original colours. Finally, looking back at what we learned from the typography session, I chose Monserrat (sans serif) for the title text and Merriweather (serif) for the running text. The clean and crisp nature of the sans serif typeface helped to emphasise key points/statistics while the guided "eyeline" that the serif typeface helped to make longer pieces of text more legible.

My use of Adobe suite for this brief was extremely pivotal in the design process as it allowed me to plan, draw inspiration from, align, and more importantly - draw up the icons! There were a few tools that I found extremely important along the way.

(1) Grouping and layers - since the work consisted of many different icons and parts, it was helpful when I wanted to duplicate or move objects around in a group.

(2) Shear and the 3D functions - I wanted to play on the angles of my graphics and these tools were helpful in my decision of the direction and rotation of my work.

(3) Alignment - working with many different elements, and adjusting each element would have been incredibly time-consuming so this was a lifesaver!

Despite the benefits of Adobe Suite, I encountered some frustration while using the graphing function. It was unintuitive, lacked data labeling functions, and had limited design capabilities. As a result, I decided to create the graphs myself rather than relying on the default functions.

As usual, the critique session was useful in providing me with different ideas on how to improve my work. However, for this particular session, I did find it especially crucial as I was stuck in terms of formatting and how to present my information such that it was (1) visually appealing, (2) concise, yet (3) conveyed sufficient information to readers. In addition, I did think my draft seemed a little messy due to the amount of information I wanted to convey and because the visual representation involved multiple components (icons, details, etc) that made it seem cluttered. I also gathered feedback that the artwork was a little inconsistent throughout the infographic - I guess I had a hard time deciding whether or not to eliminate details that I thought were crucial to the work!

After the critique, I decided it was most important to figure out and tighten up the placement of the textual elements and visual icons. I tried out different rotations, eliminated a few icons, and experimented with sizes to come up with what I thought looked the best, and helped with achieving my aforementioned visual design goals. In addition, I worked on aligning the art style throughout the entire infographic. I think this helped to create a cleaner feel and made it better to look at. Finally, I made a key change to the positioning and size of the second main graphic. This made more space for the rest of the visual icons and improved the padding for the rest of the text bodies.

Through this assignment, I gained a deeper appreciation for infographic makers and visual designers - it is tough striking a balance between aesthetic appeal and the need to convey sufficient information to an audience. I think my relative inexperience in this aspect was reflected in my draft but hopefully was resolved in my final version since I worked on the comments that I received during the critique session.

[bemylord]

haikyuu boys have a size kink

characters: ushijima, kuroo, atsumu, bokuto, tsukishima.

warnings: smut, oral, belly bulge, degrade, breeding and size kink, anal, gagging.

ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ ᴡᴀᴋᴀᴛᴏꜱʜɪ

like every boy who has a thick cock - he'd be smug whilst fucking your cunt to see how your belly is bulging due to his cock.

you'll boost his ego if you'd scratch his back or biceps, so ensuingly in the morning, his back would be dotted in the red patterns; screaming his name like it's the one word you know.

a big daddy in the bed. wanna stay all day in the bed and receiving cuddles and smooches? call ushijima daddy or captain. it would blow his mind, hearing your broken voice, thanks to his cock, moaning and whimpering.

'd-daddy!' you're getting lost in ushijima's thick cock, lacking of his deep, but morbid kisses. ushijima is biting your lips, immediately licks the blood that flowing down into your chin. strikes are powerful, beating moans and whimpers from your mouth every time his balls are hitting your ass. ushi hoists your up from the bed you were laying on: with one hand his holding your waist whilst another one is keeping the buttocks. nudging your tight and dripping pussy on his cock, feeling the closest orgasm.

'my baby, i'm close, i-' you're kissing the protruding bone on his collarbone, leaving there small hickeys that will come off in a couple of minutes. ushijima presses his lips against yours, increasing his tempo, pulling your closer to his body. 'let's do it together, honey, cum on my dick'

'cum inside me, ushi, i wanna feel your sperm inside me' you murmured wheezing, bouncing on his cock, feeling the wave is overwhelming you, bringing what you've been needy for a long time. as wakatoshi felt your creampie on his dick he bowed his head back, making his last movements 'till he did the last like you. he kept nudging into you a couple of times, make sure you've got off his semen in your belly. he kissed your sweat forehead, carrying you to the bathroom.

ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ ᴛᴇᴛꜱᴜʀᴏᴜ

kuroo likes to do it in a raw when you aren't prepared, just enough to feel how a big cock is stretching your walls, going in until his balls squish against your ass and going out, bursting inside with speed, beating out of you desperate, concupiscent moan.

being complacent through the whole intercourse, degrading and humiliating you by calling you slut or needy puppy.

kuroo adores when you're taking the initiative by getting fucked into his lap, controlling the pace, and watching your lover's lustful expression.

'bouncing on my fat cock like that should be illegal, babe, ah~' he groaned when you take his member all, drooping down, moving the pelvis forward and backward. 'jumping on it, babe' kuroo thrusts hips up, forcing you to grab his shoulders. you looked into his eyes, taking the massive dick which is destroying your cunt.

'kuroo, ng~' you whimpered, when kuroo put hands on your waist burying himself deeper. you put yourself at the risk, slightly blowing on kuroo's ear, moaning quietly as you're cumming. your walls are squeezing his dick so tight, that he groaning, bend you over.

'did you had my permission to cum? now, i'm gonna fill your cunt with me hot sperm until it'll be enough to dripping from your pussy'

ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ ᴍɪʏᴀ

deep oral - his favorite one. as a punishment, when you wake him up in his dick inside your tiny mouth. frankly speaking, his dick is so massive that it barely fits in your mouth: you could suck only his glans, clearly can't put a cock deeper because of the length.

another one who would be smug when you can't take his cock entirely. would be grinning and laughing at your gagging face, when you're attempting to pull away to have a breath of air.

enjoys thrusting his pelvis up when you getting down on the dick, just to make sure he's the leader.

'gag on it, sugar. feel every inch of my thick cock' atsumu did a fist of your hair to use your head as he wants. atsumu didn't have time to breathe, practically choking by his dick. atsumu might be a boy who would cherish and loving a boyfriend, but when the last ray of sunshine leaves the earth - you should call him daddy. licking his balls to the pink head, being forcing to put a dick until the glans will touch your throat.

'those tears, baby girl, that's because it's big, isn't it? taste my cum, girl' atsumu wen crazy, when he sees your tears - he's the one who can ruin your makeup, making your eyeliner run down your cheeks, leaving the black patters. your closed eyes tight, open your throat to take his cock and semen. your lover came with a loud groan, making a serial of hits in you. the mouth is filled with a hot liquid just as atsumu wanted it. you swallowed the sperm, staring at his smug and sassy facial expression.

'now sit on my face, i'm gonna eat you dripping pussy'

ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ ᴋᴏᴛᴀᴜʀᴏᴜ

he's kinda clingy and tactile: pressing you against his muscle, interlacing your fingers, kissing your lips softly and lazily, contrary to his painful strikes in your pussy.

when he first made a push in you, he was over and over asking 'how do you feel?' or 'can i move, my angel?' when you get used to his size, bokuto acts more confident - he doesn't like seeing you crying because of his cock.

bokuto is a sweet pie when it comes to the aftercare - his treasured part. bokuto will spread smooches all over your cute face, making you blushed and smile.

'my little owl, it-' bokuto groaned, when you scratched his back, pulling him closer by his torso. he kissed your lips, running hands all over your body, trying to feel every curve, smooth skin, and irregularities. if there's kink named: the man who's obsessed with your body - it'd be koutarou's kink. the captain is terribly obsessed with you. every your 'defect' that you're trying to hide, bokuto adores.

'you're gonna make your captain cum, i-' before he could finish, the spontaneously wave of orgasm made him push inside you deeply. in addition, your walls are wringing out the last of his sperm. both of you felt your high note suddenly, remaining with his breath knocked out, drowning in each other arms.

'let's have a cuddle session!' you've got no way to run.

ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ

honorable master of degrading you. doesn't care about phrases he's talking whilst pumping into you. he'd degrade and humiliate through all the night you'll be fucking. actually, tsukki is tremendously affectional after that.

the perfect way to show who's the host? anal sex for sure. your hole isn't scratched for his massive cock - amazing for him, painful for you [could be a slogan for your night-life]

scoundrel when he watches how your facial expression changes from the 'wrong hole, tsukki, it hurts' to the 'please rub my clit, i'm gonna creampie, tsukki please'

'tsukki-'

'you know my name, slut, call it!'

tsukishima spanked your ass with a resounding sound that left the mark on your booty. you're on ll fours, hair pulled, back arched - as your daddy loves to. it hurts so much that you couldn't feel anything, but his dick. you screamed his nickname when tsukki found the right nerve profoundly in the ass. kei pulled your hair back, facing your ear, biting and licking. he knew what'll be if he dares to do that - you felt the familiar feeling inside your belly. a new batch of orgasm is about to come, kei rubs your clit as he learned to read the mind. unconsciously, you squeeze his dick while finishing, uttering the nickname. you sank to your elbows with a dick inside you.

'd-daddy'

'that's right, now daddy is gonna cum and cum until your ass will drain my balls'

//~~//

why i did bokuto so sweet it must a nsfw work, but i hope you liked it!

highly recommending to listen 'lights down low' while reading it. omgfd it feels different.

[oumaheroes]

All Tied Up

Word Count: 2479

Characters: England, France- FrUK

---

‘What the fuck are those?’

France sighed from where he was hanging up his clothes in his hotel wardrobe, ‘Good evening to you too. Why are you in my room, already, Arthur? I only arrived half an hour ago, couldn’t you let me exist without your presence for just a few moments more?’

He hadn’t heard him come in; France didn’t think he’d left the door to his hotel open. Although, England did have a bad habit of quietly entering places rather too well for his liking, ‘It’s bad enough that I will have to endure so much of you this week.’

‘Fuck off. I was hungry, so I came to see if you’d eaten.’

France turned back to his open suitcase for another shirt, ‘And?’

England frowned at him, ‘And?’

‘And,’ France prompted, slipping his favourite dress shirt onto a hanger. It was wrinkled; he hoped there was a decent iron here, ‘what were you going to do then?’

England huffed at him, as if, somehow, he France was being the difficult one, ‘And if you hadn’t, I was going to go with you.’

‘Could you not ask me to dinner like a normal person?’

England ignored him and nodded his head to the top of France’s temporary wardrobe, ‘Why have you got those?’

France followed his eyeline, stepping back when he couldn’t see anything. A few paces back and beside England he could see there, right at the back and on the top shelf of the wardrobe, were a pair of handcuffs.

‘Bit lewd for a week-long conference, init?’

France raised an eyebrow at him, ‘Do you really think I’d be that crass for those to be mine?’ England said nothing but his look became a lot more pointed. A beat of silence later and France shrugged, ‘Fine. But those ones are not.’

‘Of course.’

‘Why on earth would I lie about that.’

England shrugged, ‘Why do you do most of what you do? I never know.’

‘No, because you’re far too dim.’

‘Dim? Coming from the bellend who takes handcuffs to a NATO summit in Toronto.’

‘They’re not mine- what are you doing?’

England had moved around him and crossed the room towards the wardrobe and was now reaching up to the back to grab the handcuffs. France looked at them in his hands and then around his temporary room in distain, ‘I can’t stay here anymore, who knows what else they missed cleaning.’

France imagined that poor Canada was probably stressed enough as it was hosting this thing and likely didn’t need any additional work, but the idea of sleeping in a bed that might not have been changed was not something that appealed to him in the slightest. If the handcuffs were missed by the cleaners who knew what else they had failed to catch.

England tutted, ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

‘I hardly think me caring about my personal hygiene is me being a baby.’

‘You’ve slept in worse.’ England paused, ‘You’ve left worse.’

France opened his mouth to retort but England made an approving sound, opening the cuff wider, ‘These are pretty good quality, you know.’

France rolled his eyes, ‘Oh, and you would know.’ England turned them over and France sniffed, tucking his hair behind his ears, ‘Put those back, they’re probably filthy.’

‘No, I mean they look like they’re law enforcement rather than… well. Not.’

France stepped closer, ‘No look, they’re too flimsy.’ He pointed to the chain that connected the two cuffs, ‘and those are incredibly out of date- surely your police don’t still use these?’

England flushed, ‘Of course not! But I’ve seen a few of these about recently.’

‘Really? And how many decades ago was that? Twenty? Thirty?’

England waved a hand airily, ‘I don’t know, thereabouts maybe.’

‘You’re a fool.’

France made to take them from him but England pulled back sharply, ‘What are you doing?’

France blinked at his suspicious tone, ‘What are you doing? You’re not going to keep them, are you?’

‘No!’ England’s cheeks burned scarlet, ‘No of course not, but you reached for them so suddenly-‘

‘And what?’ France leant back and put a hand on his hip, ‘You thought I was attacking you?’

England scowled, ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?’

‘Oh that is rich coming from you-‘

‘What’s that supposed to mean!’

‘You know full well what that means- look, just give them here.’ France lunged forwards, hoping to tug them out of England’s hands but England jumped away reflexively. Maybe he’d judged the angle wrong, or maybe England had tripped him somehow- either way France fell too sharply onto him and England gave a surprised yelp.

Click.

They froze, France with both hands balled in England’s shirt to keep him upright. One of them now had a shiny, very solid looking, handcuff around it.

They both stared at it in silence.

England gave a choked laugh and tried to cover it as a cough, ‘Francis, I swear I-‘

‘You arsehole!’

France shoved himself off and England held up his hands placatingly, ‘I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.’

‘Oh of course you didn’t!’ France held out his handcuffed arm out on front of him and shook it at England aggressively, ‘Take this off! Take it off right now!’

‘Okay okay, calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ.’

‘Calm? Calm? You tell me to be calm? I just got off a nine-hour flight only to be handcuffed by you of all people half an hour after I get in my fucking hotel? And you’re telling me to be calm?’

England, who had gone back to the wardrobe to feel about the top shelf, let out a soft, ‘ah’.

France laughed and shook his head, ‘No. No no, no don’t tell me there’s no key. Don’t you damn well dare.’

England, now that the initial shock of the situation had worn off, was clearly trying to hide that he was enjoying France’s predicament, ‘there’s no key.’

France threw a clothing hanger at him.

----

Two hours later, and things were no better.

France, (reasonably, he thought), refused to leave the room until the handcuffs were off and refused to let England leave the room until he’d fixed the problem that he’d created. England could agree that yes, maybe he had some part to play in all of this, but really it was France’s fault for lunging at him so suddenly and only agreed to stay if they ordered dinner first.

So, aside from a break to eat, France angrily chewing through a delivered meal he’d demanded England pay for in stony silence, they spent the time pulling apart the room and crawling to places France would never admit to crawling just in case the key had managed to slip down into some long-forgotten corner.

They’d both turned everything inside and out, upturning all of the drawers and taking off all of the bedding, but no luck. The wardrobe itself was fixed to the wall with no holes a key could have slipped through, so eventually France had to admit defeat and concede that there was no key to be found.

England, to his credit, did try to hold it together commendably well and had only let a euphoric grin slip through twice, both times of which he’d covered by burying his face behind something and pretending to cough until he’d smothered his glee enough to reappear with a blank expression. However, any time his eyes were caught by the glinting mental hideously shackled around France’s wrist, the corners of his mouth would twitch in a way that made France want to immediately wound him with the nearest blunt object.

Sadly for France, England was his best chance at getting him out of the current situation and so committing assault upon him was not the best resolution to his current troubles.

‘You’re going to have to do it,’ France said eventually after he’d finished rechecking a drawer England had already searched, (one could never be entirely sure that England was taking this seriously- being an almighty annoyance to France was one of his favourite pastimes, after all, and France didn’t want to assume the glimmer of remorse he had seen was genuine.)

‘Do what?’

‘Oh, don’t play the fool; get me out.’

England made a derisive noise, ‘Oh yes, sorry, let me just pull the key out of my ar-‘

‘No,’ France tutted at him and shifted through his suitcase to find his toiletry bag, ‘You may pretend to Australia that you do not know how to pick locks but we both know that you do¸ and seeing as there is no key and I am stuck here I’m sure you can pretend to forget that lie for just the moment.’

England snorted and took a hairpin that France offered him, ‘You have been watching far too many Hollywood films.’

France put a hand on a hip, ‘Can you do it or not.’

England bristled, ‘Of course I can. But hairpins like this aren’t exactly the bes-‘

France interrupted him with a shake of the wrist, ‘Do you see this still attached to me? I really do not care. Get me out.’

Muttering very gruesome sounding things under his breath, England pushed France down to sit on the bed and crouched before him, positioning France’s wrist upturned on his knees.

France nudged him gently with his foot and raised his eyebrows suggestively, ‘You didn’t have to handcuff me to get me here, you know.’

England swatted him away and looked at him in disgust, ‘Don’t you start.’ He bent apart the hairpin and worked it into the lock, twisting it slightly, ‘I wouldn’t want to anyway, you smell like plane.’

‘Oh! Oh, darling do tell me why that is. Hmm? Is it because I haven’t had the chance to shower yet, because I was attacked before I had even finished unpacking?’ He ran his free hand through England’s hair, ‘Why is this so long? Have you not had it cut since I last did it?’

England squinted at the handcuff and didn’t look up, ‘No, I’ve been busy.’ He twisted the hairpin and it made a very hopeful clicking sound, but nothing happened and England went back to jiggling it ever so slightly into different positions, ‘You can do it whilst we’re here.’

France huffed, ‘And what makes you think I can?’

‘You always take scissors with you.’

‘No, I meant what makes you think that I will.’ He brushed England’s fringe back from his forehead, measuring out its length between his fingers, ‘Just because I-‘

They both jumped, startled, as the door to France’s room burst open unexpectedly to reveal America in the doorway, ‘Yo Francis, we’re all going out to- what the fuck are you doing?!’

England’s head popped up and suddenly France could see all too clearly how this scene looked to America’s eyes: France, a fist buried in England’s hair and England crouched on his knees in front of him, head bent close to his lap.

England locked eyes with him, an expression of shock on his face, before flicking to America framed and frozen in the doorway. He held up a hand placatingly, ‘No it’s okay, they’re just handcuffs!’

‘Oh God!’ America clapped a hand over his eyes, ‘No way man, I do not wanna see that! Jesus, what is wrong with the both of you? Have you heard of locking the door?’

‘No!’ England stood up suddenly. He didn’t let go of the handcuff and the movement jerked up France’s arm roughly, causing him to give a cry of pain. England dropped his arm in horror, ‘It’s really not what it looks like.’

‘Okay, sure dude, whatever,’ still with his hand over his eyes, America backed away out into the corridor, ‘I’ll let everyone know you can’t come because you’re both occupied.’

‘No!’ France and England both shouted in unison but it was no use, America slammed the door and they could hear him running down the corridor in the direction of the stairs.

France sighed through his nose, ‘Well, that went well.’

----

England did eventually spring France loose. After turning off his phone and forcing France to silence his own and not touch it (they kept beeping, America worked fast at spreading the news) he managed to work his way into the lock after chewing it into more of a sharp point and bending it into ridiculous angles.

‘There you go, they can’t have been official handcuffs,’ France rubbed his wrist, relishing the feeling of the metal being gone, and picked up the handcuffs to turn them over, ‘police handcuffs wouldn’t be that easy to pick.’

England snorted and brushed down his trousers, ‘Or, maybe I’m rather good at it.’

France did pretend to politely consider this for a second, ‘Or, your police have never had quality handcuffs, which really does make your government’s further reduction of their budget particularly sad. What will they use next, cable ties?’

England scowled, ‘Is that any way to talk to someone who just freed you from handcuffs?’

‘Yes, if that same person put me in them.’

England gave a bark of laughter, ‘I’m sure you’ve done something recently to deserve it.’

France hmm’d and stood up to join him, ‘I’m glad your alternate reality entertains you.’ He stepped up to England, grabbing his wrist and tugging him closer with one hand before bringing the other to rest on the small of his back.

‘What are you-‘

France swiftly kissed him silent, bringing his hand from England’s wrist to cup the nape of his neck and press his thumb gently into the bones. He felt England relax, the tension from his shoulders loosening as he gave into it and France let him have the moment unspoilt for a while. Then, before England could react, with the other hand France pulled him closer, pressing them closer together, before removing it suddenly.

Click.

With a noise of outrage, England bit him, hard, on the lip and France pulled away with a grin as England furiously brought his hand up to reveal a shiny new bracelet.

France laughed, stepping back quickly lest he hit him, ‘There, now I know you have done something recently to deserve that.’

England recovered the distance, hands clenched at his sides, ‘Yes, but mine was a fucking accident!’

France shrugged lightly, ‘Well, it’s a good thing you’re rather good at breaking out of them, isn’t it?’

England pressed his lips together so tightly they went white and France smirked at him, ‘I’m going to have a shower, you entertain yourself there for a moment with that and then we can go out for a drink.’

England sat down with a huff and picked up the now very abused hairpin, ‘You’re paying.’

‘Maybe.’

‘And we’re avoiding the place everyone else is going to.’

‘Oh certainly.’

----

AN:

I was going to write something soft and sweet, or something more serious with a bit of detail, but this came out instead. I’m not mad about it, but I do wish I were able to stick to some sort of plan.

It made me chuckle writing it, so I hope you all enjoy!

[houseoflennoxx]

👜🎒 for Kate and Avalon

(thanks for the question, nonnie!)

👜: What's always on their bag

Kate: For me, Kate is a disaster and carries in her bag just what is necessary. The wallet (from which the coins always come out), the mobile, although she usually carries it in her hand, and the keys. In addition, a couple of eyeliners and 5 or 6 lipsticks are never missing. At the bottom of her bag there is always a pile of forgotten tickets and breath candy.

Avalon: Avalon is just the opposite. In addition to the four essential things, in her bag there are always: hygienic wipes, pads and tampons, make-up removal wipes, toys for Axel, a small first aid kit, sunglasses, emergency snacks for her children, a notebook, a pencil case... She even carries a pack of tarot cards that she got for her bachelorette party. You never know when it's time to read your friends their future.

🎒: University Major

Kate: Our favorite countess studied Social Work at university, having decided that Law was too boring and preferred to know more about people's realities.

Avalon: For her part, she studied a double degree in Psychology and Social Education. It was in one of the common subjects with Law where she met Alistair, who had to repeat said class twice.

[munsontm]

[  MASTURBATE  ] ; the sender catches the receiver masturbating.

[  MASTURBATE  ] ; the sender catches the receiver masturbating / @ricklipton

Midnight was fast approaching when Eddie Munson rolled haphazardly through Rick's window, landing in a heap on the floor. Perhaps it might have been easier to use the spare key that he knew of hidden out in the woods, but that required effort that he couldn't be bothered to muster in the late hour. "Rick," he shouted loud enough that he'd be heard around the entire house. No answer. He searched about quickly only to make sure the other hadn't passed out somewhere, accidentally overdosed or something. Fortunately, there was no sign of that.

That didn't stop him from being mad, though. After all, Rick made the booty call to him, not the other way around, and he didn't take long to get over to Rick's place. Sighing, Eddie kicked his shoes off and went to raid the personal use stash for some weed. Okay, maybe he took a shower, did his hair, re-painted his nails, put on a little eyeliner, and then decided for far too long on what to wear for a meeting that'd be spent naked. Yeah, he put way too much effort into a goddamned booty call. Rick had probably gotten a call and ran off to meet a client.

He tossed his leather jacket onto the sofa and sat down, rolling himself a joint. Maybe Rick wouldn't be so entirely pissed when he got back that they couldn't still fuck. And sure, Rick was a good fuck. Not that Eddie knew much about it in the grand scheme of things since guy sex was still relatively new to him. But he liked being around the surly bastard too. It was fun pissing him off once in a while; Eddie hadn't meant to do that this time. Shit.

Anxiety gnawing at him, Eddie smoked the joint in record time to squash it down, but it made him restless and bored because this was not what he'd psyched himself up for. He was meant to be bent over the damned kitchen counter, or at least blowing Rick with that eagerness about him that Rick ate up. With those thoughts lingering, he found himself caught further between restlessness, boredom and with the addition of being horny. Eddie picked up a pillow, mushed his face into it and promptly screamed, ever the dramatic. Rick could be mad it he wanted, but he was getting laid.

Traipsing upstairs to the bedroom after tripping on at least two steps. His bad for not checking what he'd been smoking because the effects were more potent than usual, making Eddie a bit clumsier...than usual. He entered the room, stripping off his jeans, socks and underwear into a small trail behind him, and grabbed the lube from the bedside drawer. A part of him felt surprised to notice that the bottle was still as he last saw it. So Rick wasn't fucking anyone else? Well, he supposed not any guys or anyone who liked anal. Eddie stared at it a while longer, pondering stupid things that maybe Rick really liked him. But he refused to dwell on it for too long so the night could continue.

Palm slicked, Eddie laid back in the middle of the bed, feet drawn up and planted solidly to ground himself. He pushed the Dio tee up to avoid getting juice on it and slowly began to work himself over. Nipples were pulled, his pierced one getting extra attention because it was so hot when Rick usually played with the bud. It didn't feel quite the same, not as intense, but at least it got him hard aside from the slippery hand sliding up and down, up and twist, thumb over the sensitive head just a little too hard, repeat. It took the edge off a little, alleviated his restlessness, yet he found that he couldn't come. "Fucking weed," Eddie half growled to himself. It was slowing everything down and made him work twice as hard for what should be easy results. Finally, it entered his head that he'd take it to the next level if his body meant to be so treacherous.

How awful, what a shame, oh no, whatever shall become of me? Musing to himself with a smirk while he poured more lube onto his hand, Eddie then scooted back against the pillows. Using his less-ringed hand, he pushed a finger inside himself, the hole sucking it in greedily. Before long, one finger became two, and two became three. Eddie shifted about, laying flat again, on his side and knees, spine bowed as he fucked himself relentlessly. Fuck he even tried riding them, which was most awkward of all. Still, nothing, and still achingly hard. He'd never regretted smoking a blunt until then.

Heels planted on the edge of the bed, Eddie went for it again out of desperation, fingers plunging in and out, the other hand jerking himself off slickly. He didn't even hear Rick enter the house nor hear him ascend the stairs. It wasn't until they were suddenly staring across the dimly lit bedroom at one another that he saw Rick watching him with mild surprise, and goddamn did Rick Lipton look like a saviour then.

Eddie sprung up into a sitting position, removing his fingers awkwardly, his eyes wide on Rick with a manic smile. "Dude, there you are. I can't freaking come. Swear it's been like five hours, and I can't get the angle right or something, or it's that weird dope of yours I smoked. Help me out?" Unashamedly, he made a jerking-off motion to the other man with his hand and used the spare to make a lewd gesture with his fingers, signalling precisely what he wanted. Then he suddenly remembered that they could do one better than a finger fuck with two of them. "...Or you could fuck me? Hell, I'll fuck you. Someone needs to fuck someone, you know?" Otherwise, he might start crying from the frustration alone.

[bnha-mha-imagines]

Soulmate au: Denki’s tattoo is covered up by Jirou and you both don’t know your soulmates. Jirou tried dating him but he rejects and says that he likes you.( prob why she did that) He still refuses even after seeing the fake mark lmao!!!!! I’m hating on Jirou rn

Denki Kaminari x Reader

AU’s: Soulmate tattoo au, college au

Words: 4074

Warnings: Manipulation, loss of friendship, angst on Jirou’s part, fluff on your part :) i didn’t know which character to follow and keep switching lolol

Summary: You and Jirou are best friends, but everything changes when Jirou realizes you and her crush, Kaminari, share soulmate tattoos. She tries her best to keep you apart… 

A/N: Literally I haven’t STOPPED thinking of this request since it came in however long ago. I sat down and wrote it and lowkey didn’t realize how long it got haha. Lol why all the hate on Jirou my dude? XD

----

You and Jirou have been best friends through thick and thin. From elementary school to U.A, you’ve been together to experience all of life’s biggest moments. You were there when Jirou nailed her first gig, you both took pictures together at all of your homecoming dances, and you’ve taken more road trips together than you’d care to count. 

It was no surprise to either of your families when you decided to dorm together at the same university. Some friends find that when they become roommates that their living habits are incompatible; not you and Jirou. With everything you’ve been through together, you regarded her more of a sister than a friend. 

Jirou trusted you with all of her insecurities, and you trusted her with all of your secret thoughts. You knew that soulmates existed, but never would you have thought you’d be lucky enough to organically find an additional best friend soulmate! You often joked with her about it: “What if we actually secretly have the same tattoo and we never knew?” You’d both laugh, knowing how ridiculous that would be.

Soulmate tattoos only develop after you’ve first interacted with your soulmate, and seeing as you and Jirou have known each other for most of your lives, you both knew that the joke held no weight. However, this did mean that the both of you had a very real chance of never meeting your soulmates or seeing your tattoos develop. It was a sad thought, but a reality that many people face. But you both were still young and in college, and you were hopeful that you had plenty of time.

Even if you did never find your one true soulmate, you knew you at least had a friend like Jirou who you could live your life with. There was no one else in the world you’d rather spend time with, and you knew if and when your actual soulmate came along that they’d have to learn to share.

Truthfully, you were more in love with the idea of soulmates than Jirou. Where you tended to hold what people would call ‘hopelessly romantic fantasies,’ Jirou considered herself a realist and didn’t mind the idea of finding love that wasn’t divinely ordained. It was a growing practice to date without tattoos, and over time the importance of them seemed to lose its touch. Still, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to give your prospective soulmate some time before you give up on it.

The universe, however, always was a lover of irony! Just your luck that Jirou was the one looking to date but you were always the one getting hit on. You knew it frustrated her, though she would never say. You knew, and while you did your best to hide it, you couldn’t help feeling excited each opportunity a tattoo might develop only to feel disappointed when it never showed. You were both luckless in love, but you were luckless together, and that made it a little better. 

That was, until Jirou met some guy majoring in computer science named Denki Kaminari. You’ll never forget her face when she got home that night; she was all grins, and you couldn’t help but tease her about it. You were excited for her, you truly were! She had sat across from you on your bed while she told you all about how they had sat next to each other in a math class. 

You watched her lips twitch up as she described how he cracked jokes at her throughout the class while she struggled to stifle laughs. Finally, she told you that they were going to hang out the following night, and you screamed while giggling as if you were little kids again.

You helped Jirou pick out the right outfit, sitting on your bed while she tried on clothes for you. You helped straighten her hair while she carefully drew on a thin line of eyeliner. And then, like a parent sending their daughter off, you waved her out the door in your sweatpants and slippers. 

Eventually, one hang out turned into many, and Jirou confessed to you that they had become rather good friends. You remember feeling a little disappointed. “Only friends?” you had asked her while she nodded her head. But, she assured you that she was happy about just being friends with Kaminari. And with a warm smile, you believed her.

After a month, stories of the mysterious Denki Kaminari were no longer satisfying. “Jirou!” you practically pounced on her when she came home from her music theory class. “Take me to lunch with you! I wanna meet your friend!”

Jirou looked at you, and though her eyebrows furrowed slightly, she could find no excuse not to agree. Playing with her earlobe, she nodded her head. “Uh, sure! I’m leaving now, though, I just came to drop off my bag. Are you sure you're ready?” 

Hopping away from her, you scrambled to throw on your shoes and fix your hair. “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready!” you reassured her, grabbing your keys and your phone. Looping your elbow around hers, you grinned. “I can’t wait to meet your friend! You talk about him so much.”

Jirou nodded, walking with you across campus to the cafeteria she agreed to meet him at. As you walked, you asked her how her class was; you let her speak even though you had no idea what sort of musical things she was talking about. 

Finally reaching the cafeteria, you followed Jirou in and scanned the tables, trying to pick out Kaminari based on the description Jirou had rehearsed to you all those times. “There,” you heard Jirou say before she stepped past you. You followed her quickly, peeking around her back to finally see with your own eyes who this famous friend was.

Your eyes caught his hair first; it was a golden yellow, a bright color that fit the wide grin on his face. Reaching the table, you couldn’t help but inhale sharply. The boy was devilishly handsome, and Jirou’s words had not done him enough justice. 

“Hey Jirou!” Kaminari drew out his greeting, standing up to give her a sideways hug. You couldn’t help but chuckle as she got embarrassed and shoved him off her. You could tell that in the time they’ve known each other that they’ve gotten close. “Who’s this?” Kaminari was the one to bring you up, and you gasped.

“Oh! Right, sorry,” you apologized, smiling. “I’m (Y/n), Jirou’s friend. Sorry for intruding on your lunch, I hope you don’t mind!” You stuck your hand out to shake his, and when your skin touched you swear the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. 

He held your hand a little longer before letting it go, his smile meeting his eyes. “Not at all!” he said warmly. “Especially not someone as cute as you! Jirou, you should bring your friends along more often!” You laughed, a little bashful, before taking your seat. Jirou only rolled her eyes, choosing to sit across from you next to Kaminari.

“So you can hit on all of them? Yeah, gross, stay away,” Jirou spoke, causing both you and Kaminari to laugh.

“Ouch, didn’t know you were so protective of them,” Kaminari feigned hurt. “I’m not that bad, am I?” His eyes were teasing.

Jirou tched, smirking slightly. “Oh, you’re the worst.” 

Before you could feel too awkward and left out, Kaminari turned back to you. “So (Y/n)! What’s your major?” You told him, and continued the conversation with a few questions of your own. You both got to know each other rather well, and after only a few minutes of talking you realized why Jirou liked hanging around with him so much. 

You were talking so much that your throat was beginning to get dry. You didn’t notice how much time had gone by, talking with Kaminari was just so easy. Suddenly Jirou cut into the conversation. You had almost forgotten she was there. “(Y/n), don’t you have class starting soon?”

You blinked, and a quick glance at your phone had you scrambling to collect your things. “Crap, thanks Jirou!” you said, grabbing your bag from the floor. “Kaminari, it was lovely to meet you! We should all hang out again soon.” 

Kaminari smiled, a look of amusement on his face as you quickly grabbed your keys and phone from the table. “Denki works fine. And totally! Before you go, take my number.” You exchanged contact information, too busy rushing to notice the look Jirou had on her face. Waving goodbye to both of them, you hurried to class. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened the next day.

“JIROU!!!!” you screamed from the bathroom. Jirou practically fell out of her bed, reaching the bathroom just as you opened the door. Steam from your shower leaked out from the bathroom into your bedroom. You held a white towel around your body, your hair still coated in shampoo. 

“What, what happened?!” Jirou asked, worried. You had a strange expression on your face, wide eyes and a slight flush to your cheeks. With a trembling hand, you lifted your arm to reveal a small design on your wrist. Jirou’s heart seemed to jolt violently as her eyes traced the tiny outline of a lightning bolt on your skin. “I-Is that…?” she couldn’t seem to finish the question.

“Yes!” you screamed again, laughing. Despite the wet towel covering your body, you gave Jirou a tight hug which she returned. Excitedly jumping together, you gushed for a few moments over the tattoo before Jirou forced you to finish your shower. 

Once she heard the water go back on, Jirou let her face fall. It couldn’t be because you met Denki yesterday, was it? The universe would have to be cruel to pair you with the one person she’d managed to fall in love with. “No,” she reassured herself with a hushed voice. “(Y/n) had a class yesterday where they met tons of new people. With 50 people in there, it’s much more likely that they met their soulmate there.” 

Jirou sat back down on her bed, reasoning with herself as she waited for you to finish showering. She rehearsed that same line over and over in her head so that she could tell you it when you got out again. You met them in your class. You met them in your class.  

That night, Jirou was getting ready to leave. You watched as she threw on a hoodie and slid on the converse she had converted into slip ons. “Where are you off to?” you asked curiously. “Going to see Denki?” Jirou didn’t miss the way your voice raised with interest at his name.

With her back to you, you didn’t see the way she rolled her eyes. “No,” she said casually. “Just going to the music practice room again.” She peeked back to see you nod your head and reimmerse yourself into the Netflix show playing on your laptop. Releasing a small, relieved sigh, Jirou left before you could ask any more questions. It wasn’t that she liked lying to you, but she couldn’t help but feel irritated about how chummy you and Denki have gotten recently. The fact that you developed a soulmate tattoo didn’t help either. Besides, he had texted her specifically to come over, not you. She was excited for some alone time with him.

Walking down the familiar path to his dorm building, Jirou let the cool air calm her worries. Trying to reassure herself, she made her way up to Denki’s room and knocked on the door. She barely finished before the door swung open and he pulled her in. “Denki, what?!” Jirou cried, startled.

“Thank goodness you’re finally here, Jirou! You walk like a grandma!” Kaminari said jokingly as he closed the door.

Jirou snorted, her heart warming. Right now, it felt like it did before she introduced you to Denki. Just the two of them in his room, joking around. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” she said, taking a seat on the beanbag that she’s come to love. “So what’s with the urgent texting?” she prodded, a teasing smile forming on her face. “Forgot the notes in class again?”

Kaminari scoffed, crossing his arms with a smile. “No,” he said. “That was one time… okay maybe two. But, no, I texted you because of this!” Jirou felt her heart shatter before Denki even rolled up his sleeve all the way. No way. There was no way. But, the ink didn’t lie. There, on his wrist, was the same small lightning bolt that Jirou had seen that afternoon on your skin. 

Jirou swallowed the heartbreak in her throat, keeping a calm face. “You got a soulmate tattoo?” she asked softly. Denki nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Can you believe it!? These are like… super rare now! I swear, I thought I was gonna go my whole life without ever meeting my soulmate. But look!” Jirou didn’t want to look. “That means they’re here on campus somewhere. I interacted with them! Can you believe it?” 

Jirou could only manage to nod her head, but it seemed enough for Denki who was dominating the conversation.

“Jirou,” Denki said, his smile audible in his voice. “What do I do? I have no idea what to do!” Jirou’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She took a few seconds before she started to answer, willing the tears in her eyes to stay put. 

“Well, Denki…” she started, and at the serious tone in her voice he quieted. “It’s not really popular anymore to have a soulmate.” The venom in her words was hidden perfectly, and he didn’t seem to pick up on it as he slowly spoke.

“What are you saying?” he asked, the excitement gradually dying in his voice. 

Jirou couldn’t help the words coming from her mouth. “It’s out of fashion, Denki. People are going to think you’re shallow if you wave that around.” Seeing the pain spark in his eyes, Jirou swallowed. “Most people just ignore it and date whoever, you know?” 

Denki was silent, tracing one finger over the mark on his wrist gently. “I mean,” Jirou continued, “you could keep it but… I really wouldn’t. Here, let me help you hide it.” Denki still didn’t say anything as Jirou began to dig the foundation out from her bag. 

Bringing the chair closer to Denki’s, Jirou gingerly grabbed his hand and began to blot away the small tattoo. The concealer was slightly off color, but it was enough to do the trick. Satisfied with her work, she tried to calm the pounding of her heart. “S-See?” she spoke, breaking the silence. “Just like normal.”

“Yeah,” Denki mumbled finally. Jirou didn’t like seeing him this dejected, but she knew that it had to be done. She knew she could make him happy if he just… noticed her. 

“I know what’ll cheer you up,” Jirou offered. Denki lifted his head slightly, eyes dull. “I’ll play a movie. You know… like old times!” Getting no yes or no from Denki, Jirou put a movie on while he sat on his couch. Turning off the lights, Jirou grabbed a blanket and plopped down next to him. As the movie played, she noticed how he kept glancing down at the covered tattoo on his wrist. With a dash of annoyance, Jirou curled up closer to him. He’ll forget about it, she knew. He’ll have her, and he’ll forget all about you before he ever got the chance to know you.

After that day, Jirou tried to keep you from Denki as best as she could. She was the only one who knew about both of your tattoos, so as long as neither of you found out, she should be able to get away with it. She’d ask you about different classmates to throw you off. “Did he have the mark?” “No…” “Maybe it was that other classmate then!” And for a while, this seemed to work… on the surface. 

No doubt you were becoming exasperated about finding your soulmate. You retraced your steps many times, but still, you couldn’t find them! As for Denki, Jirou could tell that he was still thinking about his mark. He tried to be present whenever they hung out, but his mind always seemed to drift. The worst part was when you asked about one other. “When will I see Denki again?” “Is (Y/n) gonna be there?” Gosh, it was insufferable! You only met one time and it’s like you’re already in love! 

Having enough of it, Jirou devised a plan. While you were out at class, she walked to your desk and borrowed one of your black sharpies. Carefully with the thin tip, Jirou traced out the delicate shape of a lightning bolt on her wrist. You flaunted it around enough where she had a pretty good mental image of it. 

Satisfied with her work, Jirou capped the pen and rubbed at it to make sure it was set in place. Reaching for her phone, Jirou texted Denki. We need to talk. I’ll be over in 5 minutes. She was already halfway to his place when he finally replied with a simple ‘okay.’ Knocking on his door, Jirou invited herself in the instant it opened. 

“Are you okay?” Denki asked, concerned. Jirou said nothing, only walking to the center of the room before turning to face him.

“Denki,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t reveal it sooner but… I was worried about ruining our friendship.” Silently, she raised her wrist to reveal the forged tattoo. Denki watched, eyes widening as they landed on the small lightning bolt. 

He went to speak but Jirou quickly cut him off. “I know I told you to cover yours up but honestly… I was dumb. I was scared. But I’m not scared anymore and I’m ready to be with you. We’re soulmates, Denki…” Jirou smiled nervously. “We’re meant to be together!”

Denki was speechless, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ahh, wow, Jirou,” he said finally, an awkward chuckle falling from his lips. “I-I… I don’t know what to say.” Jirou felt her nerves wrack through her.

“You don’t have to say anything. We can just… continue like we were! We were practically dating anyways…” At this, Denki seemed to jump, startled. Jirou’s mouth went dry.

“W-Woah woah woah,” Denki defended himself quickly, waving his hands in front of him. “We weren’t dating before… b-besides, Jirou. I’m flattered, really but… I… I already have a date with (Y/n) in a bit.” 

Jirou stopped breathing for a moment. “W-What?” Jirou had forgotten that you both exchanged numbers… did that mean you both had started to hang out without her? Wait… no. He didn’t know about your tattoo, there was no way. “Can’t you cancel? Denki, look at my wrist!” 

Denki sighed, the nervous smile falling from his face. “Jirou, look. Weren’t you the one who said that soulmates didn’t mean anything anymore? Well… maybe you’re right. The truth is, you’re a good friend! But, soulmate or not, we just don’t… have chemistry like that. I’m sorry. Please don’t make this worse than it has to be.” 

Jirou couldn’t move. Her brain seemed to stop firing completely at his words. After a moment of waiting for a response, Denki sighed. “I’m sorry. But, uh… I actually have to go meet (Y/n) so…” he checked his watch. “I don’t wanna rush you, so just lock the door before you leave? ...text me later. We can talk more later if you need.” 

And then, just like that, he was gone through the door. Jirou’s hands fell limp at her sides, staring where Denki once stood. She felt her knees buckle before she hit the ground, a silent sob rippling through her. Angrily, she scrubbed raw at her wrist, only barely smudging the ink. Her phone buzzed tauntingly, your name lighting up her screen like salt to the wound. Vision blurred with tears, she blocked your call.

“Aww man, Jirou!” you hissed under your breath at the sound of her voicemail, pulling the phone from your ear. With a sigh, you set the phone on your lap, your legs swinging gently off the bench. Right now, you could have used a word or two or encouragement from your friend.

Sure, you knew you hadn’t told her about the date yet, but were you really at fault? Jirou had grown oddly distant recently, and you barely had a chance to speak to her these days. She was always running off to the practice room, though you had a feeling she may have been lying a few times about it.

At first she’d been happy to help you find your soulmate, helping you pick out which guy to investigate. But once you ran out of classmates, she seemed to abandon the search all together! You could only think of one other person… the boy who you were currently waiting to meet on the campus bench. 

You and Denki had been texting ever since you exchanged numbers, though this was going to be the first time you saw each other since your first meeting. It seemed rude to hang out together without Jirou, but by now your curiosity had overcome your sensitivity. All you had to do was look at his wrist. You just had to know… 

“(Y/n)?” you heard a voice call your name, and you looked up to see none other than Denki Kaminari walking towards you. He seemed a little on edge, but one flash of your smile and he seemed to relax completely. 

“Denki! Hey! Good to see you again,” you chirped, standing up to give him a hug. Though this was technically only your second meeting, you felt as though you practically knew him already from all of your late night conversations. 

His arms hung around you for a little longer than an ordinary hug would have lasted, but you liked the way it felt nonetheless. Pulling away, your smile softens a bit. “So…” you start slowly, your voice adopting a tone of apology. “This may seem a little strange or old-fashioned…but I think it’s worth a shot.” 

You watched Denki’s expression carefully, his eyes willing you to continue. You bashfully played with your thumbs. “Do you… do you think I could see your wrist?” You watched his eyes widen, and immediately fear you overstepped a boundary. 

“A-Ah,” you stutter, quickly back-tracking. “I swear I’m not a weirdo, it’s just--!! Here, look.” Without a question, you push up your sleeve and offer your wrist to him, revealing the small thunderbolt tattoo. 

Denki’s breath hitches, and you observe his reaction carefully. “No way,” he mutters breathily. “Thats--” 

“A soulmate tattoo, I know,” you laughed softly, already beginning to drop your wrist. “They’re rare, but I got lucky! Well, not too lucky. I can’t find them anywhere! That’s why I, you know...” Denki didn’t move, and you were beginning to suspect he didn’t have what you were looking for. 

“Sorry for making it weird. I didn’t mean to lead you on, it’s just that… I need to find them. I’m sorry, maybe I should--” 

“No, wait!” Denki cut you off, catching your wrist as you turned to leave. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as he turns your wrist over to stare at your mark again. After a moment, he wordlessly turns over his own wrist, and with a few hard scrubs… reveals his own hidden tattoo.

You feel a mix of emotion at the sight, gently taking his wrist in both of your trembling hands. “I-It is you…” you gasp. “But you covered it up.” Hearing your voice droop slightly, Denki takes your hands in his own.

“I didn’t want to,” Denki explained quickly. “I think we’ve both been misled.” 

You paused a moment before realization dawned on you. “D-Do you mean that… that Jirou?” Denki nodded, taking you into another tight hug.

Face pressed into his chest, you allow yourself to be washed over by his warmth. He smelled like lemongrass and lavender, and the feeling of his lips pressing against your hair filled you with an indescribable tenderness.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he said, a choked laugh sounding from his chest. “I found you, (Y/n). I found you.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Blighted

For my precious Sunshine, @5-secondsofcolor's birthday!! Which is technically now, because it is 1 AM on the 20th of May and I am a mad woman. Love you and I hope you have an amazing day, when you see this of course.

Here is your fic, FBI/Behavior Analyst!Calum. Female OC.

Ivy says she's cursed after taking the same career path that took her father's life. Calum's new on the team, a liaison and media specialist, but he's looking to get his toes wet.

AKA your regular old jaded pessimist veteran and bright eyed rookie buddy cop story. Please enjoy!

CW: In depth descriptions of death/crime scenes. Depictions of violence, gore, and blood.

Enjoy my masterlist (on a haitus)

Search for more writing in the h writes tag

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The whiteboard never leaves. It glows behind her closed eyelids. When staring down at the neck of a bottle, she sees it floating just as the bottom of her drink. She’s cursed. But she knew that the moment she tried out for the academy. The second the thought floated across her mind, she would be doomed just like her father. Ivy tried her best to reroute herself--she got into the arts, was first chair flute in her highschool’s orchestra. She was president of the Homecoming committees her junior and senior year, and worked during the summers at her church's camp.

And yet when she went into school for her degree, she gravitated towards psychology and criminal justice. She saw her mother’s fear. The closer it came to graduation and the more the two of them talked about what she would do after graduating, the more the thought lingered, I want to get into the Bureau like Dad. But she couldn’t utter that. She couldn’t say those words without tears welling up in her mother’s eyes.

Ivy suspected her mother always knew about the desires. Ivy didn’t remember all the nights clearly, but sometimes she’d peek out her bedroom door and see the glow of the light downstairs. Ivy followed it, side stepping the creaky fourth step from the top and from between the banister’s she’d find her dad sitting at the dining room table. The kitchen light glowed from behind him and his tie would barely hang on around his neck.

“Boo,” he’d say quietly, knowing the slight shuffle of Ivy’s feet.

“How’d you know I was there, Daddy?” she’d ask, carrying herself the rest of the way down the stairs and make her way through the living room to climb into his lap.

“I can hear your feet above me,” he’d respond, pointing above them.

And they’d spend an hour, sitting at the dining room table. Ivy asked about her dad’s latest trip. He only ever told her when she was young that they were helping save people, putting bad people away. Ivy wonders if this is where it started. If this was where her father casted the spell, leaving Ivy somehow starry eyed about what it really was he did. Ivy would always look at this job with a little bit of that hope that her younger self had, and she’d always be fucked to never be able to walk away from this line of work.

It would kill her--much like it had killed her dad. But unlike him, she’d see the bullet spiral out of the barrel. Her dad had her and her mother to get back too. It wasn’t a weakness. Ivy admired her father for sticking with his dreams and also making the hard calls to make sure his family knew he cared too. But the need to decide would always be a slight hindrance, would always be the key to living or dying in this line of work.

All that’s left of her father, besides the memories and a few of his old t-shirts that got remade into pillows, is the whiteboard she keeps at her desk. There’s a whiteboard for the entire team to use of course. But this whiteboard is the one that her father used in his office. The one where he made his notes, scribbles. The one she’d write notes to him in the bottom left corner that never disappeared until she wanted to replace the note with something new.

“Thomas, look alive, and enjoy.” The manilla folder hits her desk with a quiet thwack. Ivy blinks from the whiteboard up to her senior officer. Kennedy carries on, dropping folders on every desk and each one of them stands without needing any further prompting.

Kennedy’s been in the field for years. It was all over his face with the deep frown lines. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if he questioned every waking second. Ivy liked to tease he worried even about sleep. But no one could sink a decade and a half into this line of work and not come out on the other side with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“And where’s this new guy?” Kennedy asks, glancing over the office.

Ivy looks up from her copy of the file. She heard rumors of someone else coming by the office, assisting them occasionally on cases. But those rumors floated around weeks ago, long enough that she chalked it up to just that--rumors. It doesn’t shock her though. Things start at rumors often, and sometimes they come to fruition and sometimes they don’t. Ivy follows Kennedy’s eyeline and doesn’t spy any new faces.

“Want me to keep an eye out for any lost souls?” Ivy offers, glancing back up to Kennedy.

“Nah, I need your eyes on this one. Head up to the conference room and I’ll be there once he shows up.”

With a nod, Ivy closes the file. She swipes the whiteboard from her desk with a couple markers and heads up to the conference room. The rest of the team sat flipping through their files too, Jenkins sitting right near the front but moved down one seat. They’re not new, having been around for a couple years. But Ivy can tell their type--getting in chummy with the boss, trying too hard. They’re a good addition, but Ivy’s waiting for the day they take a hunch and it doesn’t lead to the results they want. A loss will show their true colors, how well they can handle being wrong sometimes. No one on the team is perfect, they’re all hedging bets. Ivy’s taken her lumps of hunches being made too late, or the wrong bets placed. They’re not often. No one likes them. But they happen.

Diaz, Russell, and Burke and scattered throughout the rest of the table. The three of them have been there longer than Ivy. But they all accepted her with open arms. Diaz and Burke were more muscular. They had the brains to match, but they came up the pipeline from their local PD departments and aren’t afraid to get into a tussle. More often than not, Ivy winds up pulling Burke from fights than she’d care to admit. Diaz’s much too big for Ivy to attempt physically restraining, so she referee’s those fights that he gets into.

Russell’s their man behind the screen. He was good at getting through the internet loops, figuring out how to sort databases for the information they need without so much red tape and delay. He preferred to stay behind the lines, but could handle a tussle. Ivy doesn’t count herself as the brains. But her gut had some sort of true north needle that, more often than not, was right. She could see patterns faster than most, could sniff the air after someone and assess how much she could and wanted to trust. Kennedy consulted her often. Whenever she felt like she had something, he’d hush the crowd for her to formulate the full thought. Kennedy didn’t always agree with her assessment, but had to listen to it. He needed to listen to it.

“Nope,” Russell huffs, shutting the folder. “Fucking hell. Kennedy told me it was rough, but I didn’t--I didn’t think it was this rough.”

Ivy settles in next to him sliding him a marker. She draws roughly a tic-tac-toe board. “It not getting easier for you is a good sign.”

Russell makes his first move, the marker squeaking just a little. Ivy follows up with hers. She knows if she makes it too obvious, too easy, Russell will forfeit the game. So she tries to play along, like she’s vying to win.

Russell places his second X though his hands shake just a hair. “Yeah, but compared to you guys, I feel like if someone took a gnarly enough shit it would make me queasy.”

“A bad enough shit could do that to anyone,” Diaz pipes in, his own folder still open but his forearms pressed down over the photographs. Russell’s been around the block, definitely seem some rough things, but has always had a softer view of the world. Still wants it to be good despite all the bad he’s seen.

Ivy places down her second O, noticing the pretty obvious wide open spot she left Russell but looks up to Diaz. “I think I heard through the grapevine you were on the losing end of one of those shits yesterday,” she teases.

Diaz reclines into his seat, his chest bouncing with his laughter. “All because of your cooking Thomas.”

“My cooking is not that bad,” she defends, the cap of her black marker pointing him out.

Burke snickers too with a shake of her head and opens her mouth to speak but the room fills with the voice of Kennedy. “Aren’t y’all old enough to be left alone not to talk about shit for five minutes?”

“Never too old to talk shit, sir,” Diaz returns, his smile lifting only half his face up. He’s a charmer, whenever they go out to bars out manage to get a moment’s peace not hounded by work, he never seems to be at a lack of folks coming up to him. He’s already got a girl, but with the hair that cascades always neatly placed and the dazzling bright grin, anyone could fall for it.

Kennedy huffs his laughter quickly and then shuffles deeper into the room. “We’ve got a new friend, so let’s play nice.” As Kennedy makes head way, Ivy notices the man behind him. He’s tall. The black dress pants and black dress shirt don’t hide everything beneath them, but Ivy’s not too shocked to see people who work in the field like that with some sort of muscular physique. There’s something about his face though--something about the way his brown eyes dart around the room and his smile never shows any teeth that something familiar tugs at her.

Kennedy goes around the table introducing Ivy first, then going to Russell, coming down to Jenkins, Diaz, and then Burke. Each one of them lifts a hand or nods at their name. “This here is Hood, Calum Hood. Joining us as a new liaison.”

Ivy’s no good with faces sometimes. But names she hardly ever forgets. Hood, she met him once a few years back at a lecture. Not that she did them often, but Kennedy got more face time. But he made sure to spread the love between the team. He asked her to tag along. Calum must’ve been in the crowd, had to be, and had to have asked a question because Kennedy told her to remember that name. And she had.

Kennedy continues on with something. Ivy suspects he’s warning Diaz to keep any hazy tactics to a minimum considering how much of a mess they’re walking into. Ivy nods once more at him, and then faces back to the whiteboard, the tap on her arm prompting her too. I’m a scaredy cat sure, but not dumb, it reads in Russell’s handwriting. She spies his X in the bottom corner, opposite of where he would’ve won.

“Pull up a seat, Hood. We’ll have more time for pleasantries once we’re up in the air. But I want everyone to at least be familiar with this case.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice is smooth, Ivy notes. A soft volume and accented but smoother than she would’ve pegged.

The team breaks down the file, recapping mostly what they’ve already read but Kennedy’s old fashioned this way, needing to make sure people have done their homework. It’s an extra step than completely necessary, but having the quick meetings has always made this team feel more like a second family. There’s always a common goal in mind for them and they’re always reminded of it. No matter what happens out in the field, they all want the same thing.

“We soar in forty-five minutes. So let’s hope wheels can turn in the air. Hood, I need you to keep in mind the local PD’s been taking a lot of heat for the last couple of months. So we don’t want to take too much star power, we’re only here to assist and whatever we can do to put the local’s good grace back onto that PD we need to.”

Not quite what she expected, though with his demeanor and looks, he’s sure to work a crowd or newsroom well. She’s sure he’ll be on the ground with them too.

“Understood,” he replies and with that, all of them push away from the table. “Agent Thomas,” Hood says, reaching out almost as if to touch her elbow but never actually do it. He continues to speak once she looks over to him. “I-I don’t know if you remember. But we met at a lecture a couple years back that you held with Agent Kennedy. And I just wanted to say that I’m excited to be here, working with you all.”

“Thomas, here, does not respond well to flattery. Trust, we’ve all tried,” Diaz laughs, clamping down on Hood’s shoulders.

“I appreciate it,” Ivy responds. “Glad to have a fresh mind on the team.” There’s no smile, at least, not one she’d give Russell, Burke, Diaz, or even Jenkins. But Calum watches her give another curt nod with a quick quirk of her lips, and then leave, stacking her file on top of the whiteboard.

“Don’t sweat it. She’s in work mode,” Diaz assures. “We get off the clock and she’s a hoot. But on the clock, it’s strictly business. I will warn you, Thomas will burn you.”

Calum’s left, watching Diaz, Burke, and Russell leave. Jenkins turned tail the second Kennedy got done. It’s not that he wants to mix business with pleasure. He’s just been studying Thomas, attending as many lectures that she gives as he can. She didn’t always go directly by the book, there was something about her method that used the evidence, used science, but also had some sort of intuition. Thomas just knew things and when attempting to quantify it, she didn’t always have the words for it. Calum just wants to see that in action, understand what it is about knowing that isn’t always present in the facts.

The plane ride is comfortable. Plenty of seats even though they squeak just a little. Calum watches Thomas sit and everyone seems to sit spread out from there, keeping her at some sort of center. “Mobile. They don’t mind the hustle,” Ivy starts.

“Crossing state lines is risky, especially after the escalation,” Burke interjects.

“But wouldn’t that be a reason for it? If all the crimes look different, enough crossing state lines might make the unsub feel confident, like they’re getting away with something.” The entire plane turns to look at him. Calum freezes for a moment. He knows better. He knows so much better than that. Fuck.

“Valid. But we shouldn’t settle. Travel might be part of their job. We’ve got a good cluster to possibly estimate a home base. Get comfortable, perfect the craft here and then spread out. But why come back? Local PD's hadn't quite connected anything, until the return. More families, found exactly the same. Even when they cross state lines, all points wind back to a specific geographical location,” Burke returns.

“Hood, you got the inside of the media. What does it look like?”

Thirty minutes of his forty five was making sure that he could at least nail down this run through. And it’s easy, even with the squeak of Ivy’s dry erase marker, to run down the media reports, what information has been released and what hasn’t been released. He makes note of what the team doesn’t want to get out and what they do want to keep available to the public.

All the while, Calum watches the way Ivy writes over her board, the squeak over and over on specific strokes. He wonders for a moment what she’s writing, what it is that she needs to keep written track of. But he doesn’t get a chance to fully flesh out that thought before he finishes his spill and Diaz cuts in. They’re fast, not quite settling on any one theory. More like compiling the possibilities, not wanting to eliminate things but ranking how plausible they all could be until the pieces click.

The first thing after the flight lands, they head for the precinct. The lead investigator greets them, and there’s no pause. They’re pulled into the frenzy, looking at boards. Calum tries to keep his head in the game, but he is watching Ivy. The way she settles in her chair, her marker always moving. He’s not even sure it’s words anymore, just a constant circular movement. Sure he’s here to help regulate media outlets, and he can do that in his sleep if local PD and media follow his instructions to a T.

But he needs an in, to show he’s more than just the new meat on the chopping block. He’s worth something. “Is the last crime scene still available?” Calum asks.

The room turns to him, well most of the room does. Ivy keeps circling, but she speaks. “The plan’s to go in ten minutes. Whatever’s got you preoccupied, leave it in your go bag.”

Kennedy chuckles, tapping at her foot. “Give the kid a break. He was buried in news coverage the second we got into the door. But Hood, shake the cobwebs. This isn’t your small town’s rodeo anymore. If you need to be caught up, ask. But if you’re going to be in the room, keep those ears open.”

A task easier said than done, but he nods, resting his elbows on his knees. God, they’re going to think I’m an idiot. The room goes back to its normal buzz, but Calum keeps his head buried in his hands.

“Talk to me. What are your theories?”

Calum lifts his head. Ivy’s closer now. He can see the black marks on her hand from where she’s held it up against the swirls and lettering. “Clearly I’m barely treading water here.”

“First day nerves, but you can shake it. You wanted to see the crime scene. Why?”

“Why there? We have indications that the unsub spent a lot of time there, even with the interruptions they've seemed to caused. They're still meticulous. I want to follow their steps. What did they do first? And why? What do they need from a crime scene before it’s done?”

“Good. But what else?”

“What-what do you mean what else?”

She smiles, much different than the first one. It shows her teeth, a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. “What else?”

He goes quiet, reclines back into the seat and closes his eyes for a second. What else? There’s a lot else. “I mean, the next obvious thing is why these victims? But besides that, how comfortable is this person? Do they feel a need to be rushed, fast, get-in-get-out or can they blend in? I have a hunch they can blend in. Maybe people even trust them. They are perfectly ordinary and in essence, they have to be in order for the fantasy to work. Detection means they have to get sloppy. Being sloppy’s not an option, so blending in it is.”

“Bring that to the crime scene.” Something taps his knee and Calum cracks open his eyes to see her, standing. Her whiteboard still gently rests against his knee. She’s not looking at him though. Her gaze is locked onto the board next to him, displaying the crime scene photos.

“What’s your secret?” Calum asks. He’s almost positive she didn’t hear him due to Ivy’s lack of prompt response. But then she turns to him.

“Secret?”

“Thomas, Hood, you comin’ or what?” Kennedy calls. “I can deal without Diaz, but I need you, Thomas.”

“I’ll remember that,” Diaz laughs as they walk through the glass doors of the precinct.

It’s not Calum’s first time at a crime scene. But the second Calum steps through the door a chill runs through him. The carpet and walls are still bloodstained. Everything about it the scene just feels wrong, makes Calum want to immediately step back out of the house.

“You feel that?” Burke asks. She continues on deeper into the house, slipping into her gloves.

“This is when Thomas says she’s too Black for all this and gets the hell out of dodge,” Diaz barks. He squats down to the blood on the carpet. Ivy’s already deep into the house, seemingly guided by a force unwillingly to let her go. She doesn’t respond verbally, just lifts her hand, the middle finger extended out in the general direction of Diaz.

And Calum is standing near the threshold of the door, trying to pinpoint why it feels so cold in a house in Texas in the middle of the summer. His hands feel sticky even inside the latex gloves. His first step is shaky but he stops next to Diaz. “There are drag marks from the blood,” Calum notes. “This isn’t where they were killed, just staged.”

“The unsub staged all the victims here in the living room. We know that. Pictures show the parents at the ends of the sofa, children in the middle, dog on the floor.”

“But there’s blood on the walls. We know the Dad’s 6’1,” Calum returns.

“And we don’t have forced entry. So, whoever is wreaking havoc isn’t threatening enough for someone not to answer the door.”

Calum turns to the sofa where the family was found. “It’s picturesque, poetic even. You’ve got a whole family right here, at your will. They knock on the door. It’s dusk, sun’s just starting to set.”

“They have a ruse that gets them inside. We already know they have to blend in with the community. So what can you use to get into a house? Who gets into a house without a problem?”

Diaz goes into the kitchen where in the case file it mentions when the family was finally discovered food was still out on the table. “The window doesn’t have to last long. But it has to be just right. All three families were either eating dinner, or just done with dinner. So why dinner time?” Diaz turns from the stove to face Calum.

“It’s when everyone is together. They’re not just going after a family, but very specific family dynamics. Which means both parents need to present, two kids seems to be a minimum.”

“What’s the average dinner time you’d say? With this job, I eat whenever I fucking can. But before this, excluding people like us, when is the average person sitting down to eat?”

“6, 6:30 I’d guess. That’s assuming the average person is working a job that calls it at 5PM. A town like this is either on the verge of collapsing or being bought out. So I assume a lot of people are traveling outside to the city for work, so the commute might be even later. But I wouldn’t hazard any guesses that our unsub’s just haphazardly picking houses.”

“No, no, you’re right, Hood,” Diaz states, walking over to the table. “I guess what I’m saying is the timing. No one hears anything. But our unsub’s using a gun. That’s not quiet. And there’s not a lot of city noise this far out. They’re spending hours in the house and somehow getting out undetected. But striking at dinner time, with the setting sun, means this person’s around outside the house. But no one’s noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hunting seasons,” Calum returns. “No one really flinches at the sound of a gun shot because people are hunting year ‘round here.”

“And it seems like humans are on the menu.”

“An appetizing thought.”

******

Ivy’s not sure when the chill finally left over the course of the day but it returns when she walks into the precinct and sees the entire room in a frenzy. Kennedy spies her and it’s just a look. Not much different than his resting face, but somehow she knows with that slight arch in his eyebrow. Another family--while they were proding over photos the killer was already moving on, already in the midst of their attack.

And it shouldn’t shock her. Well, to be more accurate, it doesn’t shock her and maybe that’s the thing that scares her. “I’ve been doing this too damned long,” she mutters to herself. “Hood, you’re with me. Get the address and let’s see what that gut of yours cooks up.”

“How’d--Is Kennedy going to be okay with that? The call just came in a few minutes ago.”

“Get the address and tell me how you like your coffee,” Ivy says. Kennedy’s going to come to the scene anyway, but she doesn’t tell Calum that.

There’s not another word before Calum passes in front of her. “Cream and two sugars,” he answers as he goes.

“So Black, got it.”

Paused at the desk of a detective, he looks over his shoulder. “Cream and two sugars,” he re-emphasizes with a tiny smile and holding up two fingers. Police station coffee’s never the best, but it’s better than nothing. When on a case, time is also imperative and they take what they can. Ivy fixes Calum’s cup first, slipping a lid on and keeping the stirrer through the hole. She pours her cup with no additions.

“Not even creamer? Not one?” Calum questions.

“Takes too much time,” she returns. “Burke, you staying?”

“Yeah, Russell got those files over just before the call came in. Besides that crime scene’s bound to be crowded as all hell and I swear if I walk into another house and catch a chill after seven years of doing this job, I just might quit.”

The two ladies laugh. Ivy recovering first to respond, “I need you to keep me sane even though you’re just as much trouble as Diaz.”

“Which is why I’m going to say here, work with Russell. We’re going to need Hood back before the 5’oclock news. Whatever you find at the scene will help solidify our profile and we need it soon. We need the hands on this clock, because it’s ticking ahead of us.”

Ivy nods. It’s no fun being behind. “Kennedy, we’re moving or we’re dying.”

“I trust you. There’s something off about that last one that I want to walk through again.”

“Let’s rock and roll,” she says to Calum, handing him his cup of coffee. “Mr. Cream-and-Two-Sugars.”

The drive is relatively short, all thanks to Ivy’s lead foot. But they need to get there fast, while things are still fresh.

“Did you always want to do this?” Calum asks in the silence of their drive. The radio doesn’t even play. Ivy knew he had questions. He wore them on his face, brows furrowing anytime he was the slightest bit hesitant about something.

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice? We’ve all got choices.”

“My dad worked with the FBI until it killed him. And I think about how he used to tell me it was his job to help put bad people in jail. And I believed him.”

“The bug bit you before you even had a fighting chance.”

Ivy nods, taking a quick glance to Calum. “But if I had a prettier face, I’d stick with liaison too.”

Calum huffs out his laughter. “I went the journalism route first, sue me. Besides, that’s you admitting you think I have a pretty face.”

“I forget faces—so don’t think too highly of it. And I’m probably old enough to be your mother. You attended some lectures, I remembered your name. How’d you convert?”

It’s silent for a moment and Calum contemplates her statement, old enough to be his mother. “Given that my mother has shared her fountain of youth with my sister and I, you might be shocked to know I’m nearing 30. And I converted because of you and your work under Kennedy and his old superior Rogers.”

“All the greats,” Ivy teases, but she doesn't sound impressed. More like tired, used to it.

“But you’re different.”

“Yeah, because somehow the Bureau hasn’t realized their mistake.”

“Mistake?” Calum asks around his sip of coffee.

“Kennedy’s going to retire soon. He's done 15 with our unit. Another ten prior to that climbing through the ranks. Then they’re going to have to find a replacement.”

“You say that like it won’t be you.”

“Because it won’t.”

“You’ve been with Kennedy for so long. He’s obviously going to recommend you, Ivy.”

“He can recommend but people higher up get the final word.”

The truck stops just in front of the house, and Calum knows the most logical thing to do is just focus on the case, walk the scene. Do his job. But he reaches across the console and wraps his fingers around hers for a second with a squeeze. “You’ll get it. They’d be dumb not to bring you to the head of this team.”

“There’s an altar or a shrine. It’s small.”

Calum pauses with his hand on the door. Ivy continues beside him. “Go to the eldest child’s bedroom. In a corner you’ll see the small shrine. Our unsub left one at the last house. And the house before, I’d bet. And this house too. That’s what Kennedy missed. What other cops missed too. Make sure you get it photographed. Besides, I’ve been doing this job too long and don’t know if I’d even want the added responsibility if they promoted me.”

“How’d we miss that?”

“We didn’t miss shit. We saw it when we needed to see it. We see things when we need them.” It's the way she says it, like she has to believe that makes Calum believe too.

The sight rocks Calum--he knew it wouldn’t be easy. But he didn’t know it’d hit him like this. The room spins, just a little. And his heart racing. Mostly because he can’t stand the thought that this could be someone he knows. These people weren’t anticipating their would be like this. And what does that even mean for him? What does his end look like?

“Hey, whoa. Whoa.” An arm comes around his waist and he follows the lead of whomever’s grabbed him.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I’m a fudge brownie. It’s okay to not be alright in there.”

Calum rests against the side of the house and squats down just a little. His elbows hit his knees. His breath is heavy, falls from his open mouth almost like he’s going to vomit. But his stomach’s not churning anymore. Not with the fresh morning air hitting his lungs. “Fuck,” he breathes out again, eyes blurring just a little.

“But you’re okay. Take a breather.” Ivy’s shoes turn up in the dirt. "Get him a water, will ya? Hood, take a minute. It's alright. I'll be inside when you're ready." Calum just watches her go. It takes a moment for him to lift his head. It has to get easier. Or least he hopes it does. It takes him a minute, inhaling deeply before he stands up straight.

The rest of them processing the scene goes by in relative silence. Occasionally, Calum pipes in with an addition to their theory. Ivy hums in agreement. And it’s not until they step out and slip out of their gloves that Ivy says anything. “This is why I drink my coffee black.”

“I’m sorry. I really--I don’t know why this one got me.”

“It’s the kids. Kids are the worst.”

Calum looks up to the sky. There’s a few clouds, but not many. “The photos are bad, but in person is way different.”

Ivy watches Calum, the way it takes him a second to come back to earth it seems. “Don’t ask yourself if it gets easier.” When his gaze lands hers, she can see the furrowed brow again. The question drips off his face. “You’ll only disappoint yourself. And this job’s not for the weak of heart. For the people that can’t take some losses with the wins.”

“You said it yourself. You wanted to put the bad people away.”

“Eight year old me wants to believe it’s as easy as putting the monsters away. Thirty-one year old me knows for a fact what the losses are, who gets caught in the cross-fire. It’s not easy, not in the slightest.”

“Innocent lives do add up.”

“Which is why I try not to do math on the job. They all slip up. They all reach a point where their methods don’t satiate the need. They all make a fatal flaw and counting the unfortunate lives on the way to that will have you walking from the Bureau faster than you can blink.”

“So what makes you stay? If it’s all so fucking bad, what keeps you going?”

Ivy nods to the car, pulling the keys from her pocket. “We need to solidify our profile and you need to run press ASAP. But to answer your question, the thing that keeps me going is that fact that they do get caught eventually.”

******

Eventually seems to come up faster than Calum anticipates. He was sure it would take weeks. After getting back to the precinct more information in Russell’s digging found a connection between all the families, a Venn diagram that overlapped to their X on the map. Another couple of days and it all unravelled. It’s a blur, when he tries to think back to it, on the plane. The only grounding thing is when one of the children, a little girl about 6, pointed out the tattoos on his hands. In all this time, he was sure the tattoos would be a barrier to entry--they’d somehow put him in a place that others would think he was nothing but trouble. But somehow, despite the terror she had done through, that little girl liked his tattoos, found some sort of comfort in them.

When he told her they were for his parents, she smiled at him. She said she wanted one for her parents too and then asked if he had anymore and how old he was when he got them. All of which Calum was more than happy to answer while the medic checked over her. Her older brother came soon after, asking a few questions, but overall he was much quieter than his sister. Understandable for what was endured. In the end, Calum’s just glad he didn’t see them staged on a couch, bleeding out onto the cushions.

There’s a small bit of turbulence and the shakes cause Calum to open his eyes for a moment. Ivy’s seated across from him, whiteboard on her lap, headphones in her ears. A tic-tac-toe grid drawn across it in the middle, but in the corners are some swirls, a crude drawing of the shrine from the case. Calum leans forward and tugs on the board just a little. She lets it go without a fight and hands over the marker.

Calum makes an ‘X’ in the top left. “You said this job doesn’t get easier.” He looks up to see if Ivy can hear him and is relieved when she pops out one her headphones. She raises her brows like she wants him to continue with the thought. And Calum’s not even sure he should. Instead, he hands over the board back to her. If seeing death doesn’t get easier, then maybe it just means he gets better at it. Maybe it means that not being okay with death is a good motivator to keep down this path.

“The job doesn’t get easier. You’re still human. You still want a spouse and a kid. You might want two dogs and a cat. You might want that white picket fence one day. You’ll want to close your eyes and not see death. You’ll want to walk down the street and see humans as humans again. You’ll have nightmares. Don’t hide from it. Nothing’s wrong with you for wanting that. But we’re in a world now where we see the horrors--what’s on the other side of everything you wanted. It’s a liminal space and it’s heavy to wade through.”

“I just want to not freak like I did the other day. It’s not easy. But sometimes I fear that maybe I bit off more than I could chew.”

Their game of tic-tac-toe has been forgotten, placed in the seat next to Ivy as she leans forward in her seat. “You said you were converted because of me. What exactly about me was it?”

“You just know things. When you walk onto a scene, you have an air of knowing. How can you just pick up on it in a snap?”

“Well,” Ivy laughs, “if that’s the only reason you want in, I warn you to get out.”

“I want to help. I want to save people,” Calum adds on. But then it hits him. Maybe this wasn’t the business of saving people as much as it was stopping people. Sure, they prevent future murders, but that didn’t always negate for all the lives lost. But they did save that family today. He saved that little girl that wants tattoos like his. “I want to save people and I want to stop people as well,” he finally adds on.

“There will always be monsters in this world,” Ivy warns.

“And there will always be heroes.”

“Make no mistake, Calum. We don’t have capes. We don’t swoop in all the time at just the right moment. Sometimes we are late. Sometimes we’re reacting more than we are being proactive. Sometimes we fuck up.”

His heart stops for just a moment at the mention of his first name. He’s always Hood, or at least has always been Hood. Just like she’s always Thomas to the team. But she said his first name. Unmistakably so. “Did-did you just use my first name?”

“You used my first name, first.”

When had he done that? He didn’t recall, but he couldn’t combat it either.

“Look,” Ivy continues, “the fact remains. We will fail. We will make the wrong call, or the right call just by the skin of our teeth. We will walk down the wrong direction only to figure out, we know it’s the wrong one. We get it right. A lot more often, we get it right and we minimize the death count. But we’re human--you don’t have to take it on if you don’t want. You don’t have to suffer.”

“If I don’t suffer and win, then that little girl suffers and loses. Then the next person loses. And the next. Their suffering or mine--the choice is clear.”

Ivy studies Calum for a moment. She sees the resolve on his face. Just how much sacrificing himself is a no brainer for him. It was a no brainer for her too. But admittedly, she was cursed. Maybe Calum wasn’t. Maybe she could save him, even if she couldn’t save herself. But she wasn’t in the business of saving people, only stopping them.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” she asks.

“Stop me from what?”

“Stop you from killing yourself with this job.”

“If it’s killing you, then why don’t you leave?” His head cocks to the side, now intrigued by her honesty.

“It’s like you said, I got bit before I could escape. I’m cursed. Are you?”

The little girl flashes through his vision again, and his chest tightens for a second before the relief kicks in. He could chase that feeling, the knowledge that he saved someone, one person. And that he helped put away one more person causing harm. “I am now. Ruined--because even though I can’t save them all. I can save some. I can help keep some people safe. I don’t think there’s a better reward than that.”

With a nod, Ivy looks back to their game on the whiteboard. They would’ve tied, she can see it after where she placed her ‘O’. But she hands it back over to Calum. “Kennedy’s going to shit himself when he realizes he’s got too hard heads on his team.”

“You’ll shit yourself when you realize you’re inheriting the second hard-head on the team after Kennedy leaves.”

Ivy scoffs. Of course, Calum still believes in the shiny idea that hard work yields rewards. “And this is where I can still tell you’re new to this--the dreams are still shiny and ideal.”

“All the work you’ve invested, they’d be--”

Ivy interrupts him. “I know, they’d be dumb not to.”

“Then why do you keep saying it won’t happen?”

“I’d call my pessimism a curse. But at this point, I think it’s a personality trait and the truth.”

“And let me guess, this is why you take your coffee black too.”

Ivy winks at him before her smile takes over her face. “You know it.”

[the-enzyme]

I finished painting my Monst Savage Baby head sculpt over the weekend. I kind of f-ed up and didn’t do a mock up before I planned opening the eyes. I was certain I would love the eye-sculpt the head has as default, because I find the sculpt adorable. However, I didn’t think about how I am not into droopy, “precious moments” sort of eye-shapes. I find them incredibly cute, and love looking at the figures based on them, but I don’t own any because it’s not my cup of tea. I always, always do mock ups but this time I thought it would be okay if I didn’t and that was a major fail from me.

I had to rebuild a lot of the eye to get the shape I wanted. The sculpted eyes are super big, although they don’t seem to be, but mostly super tall and “droopy. Which again, is not my cup of tea. It’s all my fault of course, for sucking at life. I was contemplating just purchasing a new head (which I might do anyway), and starting again. Having said that, I hate being wasteful, so I just went and “fixed” the idiocy I committed. My Aves Apoxie clay is freaking old, and kind of no longer useable, but I am able to reconstitute it to a certain degree. I did a few mods on other heads successfully and even added nips to my Xinyiwawa bod, so I thought I was okay to use it. However, it is now creating clumps, while I’m mixing it and it’s hard to smooth things, Which is key (IMHO), to doing even, smoothly blended additive mods. I wasn’t able to create such a smooth transition between the rubber (Monst claims these are rubber, so...) and the clay, so I had to add a very thick eyeliner just to cover some of that not well blended surface. It’s not too noticeable IRL, but it bothers me and i hate it, to be completely honest. 

I once again don’t like being wasteful and Aves doesn’t sell smaller containers, so I don’t feel like getting another knowing I probably won’t be using it and it’s just going to age poorly. On the other hand, if I do get another head I would mod this one to be a closed eyed version of the same character, and I would then need new clay! Freaking dilemma of my life right now. Overall, I am happy with the way the head looks, I find it incredibly cute and love him very much as is. Even if it’s not what I would have done (the super thick eye-liner), had I not f-ed up in the first place. He is going to be my chubby baby version of Kadaj, so that’s why he is wearing ill fitting eyeballs I got for my custom Sephiroth MNM and Kadaj MNM heads a million years ago. There is another struggle right here too, getting eyes for him when DTS doesn’t do custom eyeball orders anymore (and I hate the thought of owning resin ones). T__T;;; 

I kind of want to try my Kadaj’s MNM wig on him, but I think despite how large this head looks, it might be too big on him.

[canon-fcdder]

Kaminari hasn’t been this anxious in a long time. He checks the time on his phone for what must be the third time in two minutes, and raises his hand to knock on the door.

It’s a simple enough plan. Considering how often he ends up in Shinso’s room after bad dates, and considering how amazing the time he spends there is, Kaminari just had to capitalize on it. So he told Shinso he has a date at 7. Not just any date, but one that really means a lot to him. One with someone he thinks might be the one, but it’s also a first date so he doesn’t wanna rush it, and he doesn’t know if the other person feels as strongly as he does. So tonight is gonna be either the best night of his life, or the night he gets his heart broken for real, and if it goes badly, Shinso had better be ready with cuddles and snacks.

None of that was a lie, exactly. But now he’s standing outside Shinso's door at 6:59, wearing a little bit of eyeliner and the cutest outfit he could put together without feeling like he was overdoing it, and holding a stem of lavender. And, damn it, his heart is beating so fast it could outpace Iida.

When Shinso opens the door, Kaminari looks up at him with big, honest, nervous eyes.

“Hey. Remember how I have, like, a really important date tonight? With a guy I think I’m low key falling in love with? Yeah. Uh. He’s you."

The lack of a door being slammed in his face is enough to bring Kaminari's grin back. A little more confident, he continues what he's been rehearsing in front of the mirror for the last hour.

“We’re staying in so you don’t get anxious and you don’t have to get dressed, and I brought you lavender, cause I know you like it. I’ve got board games and I know you’ve got snacks.

“So. It’s your move now. Either we have a chill, awesome date or I come in anyway and you awkwardly console me after another attempt gone wrong.”

-  ✩  「   @honeydewmuses​ ​​   」  ✩

「 ☆ 」 Hitoshi is happy for Denki Kaminari.

He is.

Because if he’s not happy, if he’s secretly hoping that his best friend’s date is a heaping garbage fire of a disaster, then that makes him the shittiest friend in the entire world. And with how new he is to the concept of having friends, let alone caring about one in such a confusing and frightening manner, he can’t afford the additional stress of being terrible at it. So he prepares for the worst and forces himself to hope for the best— for Kaminari, not his own best case scenario —and anxiously paces around the room as he waits for the clock to hit seven. As if Kaminari is going to manifest at his door instead of whoever he decides to be serious about.

Running his hands through his disheveled hair, Hitoshi closes his eyes and groans through gritted teeth, wondering why his stomach feels sick even though he knows the answer. But it’s a troublesome answer, so he forces himself to come up with a new one. He’s nervous for Denki, obviously. Wants things to go well. Wants him to be happy. Wants him to have the best date of his life with someone who genuinely likes him unlike all the idiots of before. Someone who knows how to make him laugh and smile and who likes the smell of citrus mixed with smoke and the way Denki thinks and marvels at how someone like him could exist in a world where perfection isn’t supposed to be possible…

Torn from his delusions, Hitoshi starts at the sound of someone at his door. Warily approaching it, caution laced into his being at the thought of a mere unplanned conversation, eyes widen with surprise at the sight of Denki. Someone who should be currently starting either the best or worst date of his life… but that surprise is dulled in comparison to what overtakes Hitoshi when Denki starts explaining, essentially asking out Hitoshi in a way that can only be described as completely, undeniably Denki Kaminari.

Frankly, Hitoshi should have saw it coming.

Breath stalled in his chest, shocked alongside his stilled heart, it takes Hitoshi a moment to realize that Denki has stopped talking. Honestly, it was difficult to understand anything after the words ‘he’s you’. Blinking and shaking his head to snap himself out of his stupor, gaze awkwardly looks around the hall as if checking to make sure that no one witnessed his lack of composure. He can’t do this out in the open. There’s too much pressure with Denki’s eyes on him, let alone worrying about others both unseen or merely imaginary. Reaching over and grabbing onto Denki’s free hand— cheeks flushing further at the sight of the lavender stem —he hastily tugs him inside, trying to be quick but not too forceful. It’s a delicate line to balance, but Hitoshi likes to think that he does it well.

Shutting his door, back rests against it with a sigh, eyes closed and shoulders loosening as he feels the weight on his chest relax a bit. Not by much, but enough for him to be able to breathe normally. Refocusing on Denki, he awkwardly looks to the side, rubbing the back of his neck with a muttered, ❝ Sorry… Talking in the hallway just felt like a lot of pressure. ❞ Which was probably stupid. Yeah, that sounded stupid. Why is it that in times of danger or crisis, he can think clearly, but when being told a boy likes him— not just ANY boy, but still —he can barely manage anything?

Grimacing, he shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair, lavender springing back into place once fingers have carded through the messy locks. ❝ Anyway… I— I uh… ❞ I like you too? I think I’m lowkey in love with you? Except without the lowkey, yet somehow a LOT of the think because I’m terrified of being wrong and hurting the best friend I’ve ever had; especially since I’ve never done this before. Never had this problem before. If it even counts as one…. Perhaps not those exact words, but that sentiment feels right. Looking at Denki, with his bright eyes and striped hair and that stupid sweet stem of lavender that Hitoshi feels like he’s far too touched over, he feels a need to just— talk.

To try and explain, and hope trust that Denki will understand what he means by it…

❝ I’ve never really- felt like this before. ❞ Hitoshi hesitantly begins, hands lightly motioning in front of himself as he explains; wincing slightly, he forces himself to keep his gaze riveted on Denki, ❝ I don’t have much experience with friends… and I definitely don’t have any experience with love. So- I’m not…. I don’t know what it feels like to fall in love. I thought you had to be certain, y’know? I thought… you just- knew. ❞ But in reality, if this is what he thinks it is. Then it’s not nearly as simple. It’s scary and confusing and strange…. and he wants nothing more than for it to start making sense. But DENKI loving him?

That’ll never make sense.

❝ But I don’t know if I’m in love. ❞ He reluctantly admits, still leaning against the door, subconsciously putting as much space between him and Denki as possible… and not wanting the other boy to leave. ❝ All I know is that I want to be around you and I hate not being around you. I enjoy taking to you and holding you and making you laugh and smile and— and I was relieved when your dates didn’t work out. ❞ Swallowing thickly, stomach churns at the admission. ❝ Which I know makes me a shitty friend. But- I didn’t want to lose you. That… scares me. Which is why, I guess I didn’t want to say anything about any of this…. ❞

Taking a deep breath, Hitoshi knows he probably sounds ridiculous. Everything he’s said, it sounds like love- right? It’s obvious… Then why is he still so scared to admit it? Why does part of him fear that he’ll hurt Denki if he does? ❝ I’m scared I’m going to hurt one of the only people who doesn’t seem like he’s just waiting for that to happen. ❞ It’s odd. Voicing it out loud, it helps make it easier for Hitoshi to comprehend. Doesn’t ease his worries about what Denki might think of his cowardice though. Lowering his gaze to the side, face burns with a heat that reaches the tips of his ears, ❝ If… we try this. Can you promise that- no matter what happens or however badly I might screw up…. Or- if you decide you’d rather be with someone else— ❞

Looking back at Denki, he suddenly feels like he’s been bested in a match, unable to do anything but wait for his opponent to deal the final blow, ❝ We’d still be friends, right? Loving you, doesn’t mean I might lose you… Does it? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

Don’t Stop

My Masterlist ✨

Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.307 (I got carried away, sorry)

Type: Smut

Summary: Tony’s throwing the biggest party for his birthday. You and Wanda take the spotlight, but the Captain isn’t very happy about it.

Warning(s): oral sex (male receving), rough sex, hair pulling, dom!Steve, threesome, overstimulating, voyerurism 

IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THESE, DON’T READ!

For his birthday, Tony Stark had decided to throw one of the biggest parties you had ever been at. In only two days he transformed the living room of fourth floor of the Avengers Compound into the biggest party room on the planet.

You were the latest addition to the Avengers. You had a power that anybody had seen before, an ultrasonic scream that Tony Stark, as well as Bruce Banner, found fascinating -especially because you didn’t use any kind of technological device. No, your power was entirely natural. For this reason, you had been paired with Wanda. In the last few months you and Wanda had become great friends, given that you were almost the same age and that your life experiences -even if extreme- were almost the same. Also, you were the youngest Avengers at the compound and your friendship was becoming stronger each day passed.

“Tell me why do we have to attend the party”, you said as you sat down on the edge of your bed, soon followed by Wanda. You both laid down on the mattress and sigh at the idea of that evening. Undoubtedly there were members of the team that loved that kind of events, but you and Wanda weren’t among those.

“Because…” the red-haired one started, “…it is Tony’s birthday, who technically is our boss. And because the Captain will wear a suit and we love him wearing a suit”.

A particular common interest you had Steve Rogers. Since day one both of you made it clear to each other about the massive crush on the Captain and both accepted it. Being it only a dream, sometimes you found yourselves fantasizing about sharing a night with the soldier. “Imagine him wearing a light-blue-linen shirt put inside of pair of dark blue pair of pants. The ones in which his ass stands out”, while telling it, you found yourself shivering.

The same was happening to the Witch, who didn’t hide it, “Hopefully with his sleeves rolled-up on his arms”.

“I think we should have a cold shower”, you stated, getting up; you stretched out a hand to help your friend doing the same, “See you later?”

“For sure. I’m still not able to apply eyeliner alone.”

“Have you seen the twins?” Nat placed the flute she had between her hands on the table, then she took the seat next to Steve. She fixed the close-fitting black sheath dress on her uncovered knees and lowered its sleeves.

Twins was how everybody addressed to Wanda and you, considered your age and the quite special bond you shared. Yet, everybody learnt not to call the two of you like that when you were around.

“Not yet”, the soldier had a quick look around the room and confirmed his answer to his friend’s question. Once he went back staring at the golden liquid in his glass, on the table, he was suddenly hit on his chest by Natasha. He looked up and followed her gaze.

All the guests’ eyes laid on Wanda and you as both entered the room. For that particular event, the two friends decided wearing the same dress, but in two different colors. It was a knee-long sheath dress with no sleeves, yet high-necked; as you turned to reach the counter everybody became aware that behind, the dress, left the upper half of their backs uncovered.

“Good evening, girls”, Sam Wilson appeared behind your backs and asked for a drink at the bartender, “What are your plans? Kill everyone in this room?”

You shared a look with Wanda and both giggled, before turning to your friend, “Probably” your friend said.

“Or probably just one”, you added having a quick look around and lying your eyes over the Captain, now busy talking with a bunch of apparently-wealth men, behind them stood their wives and girlfriends.

Sam burst out laughing when he acknowledged what, or better who, the two of you were aiming for, “Good luck then”, and he left. Your best friend couldn’t help but search for Steve’s gaze once more. As a matter of fact, Wanda and you had never lost him for more than ten seconds; as if he was your target that night.

In fact, he was.

And he acknowledged your eyes on him as he walked across the room and sat down on the nearest couch he’d found. Legs slightly spread and head folded on his left side, an amused smirk coming up. If he was surprised by the twins’ outfits, he managed not to show it to anyone. That night he drew all women’s attention -married, engaged, in a relationship-, yet he acted like he hadn’t noticed it. Steve Rogers hated acknowledging it, but his attention was all on Wanda and you, who chose to wear the same dress, still in two colors. Steve refused to believe they chose blue and red because they were the only colors available, instead he thought you wore them for him.

His colors.

The Captain switched his eyes between Wanda and Y/N, who were dancing at the center of the dancefloor. For the couch he was sat on, he had a clear view of the two of you moving your hips and letting your hair free to be. He didn’t hold it back when two young boys came behind your backs and laid their hands on the girls’ waists.

Enough was enough.

“Girls, a word”, Steve didn’t wait for the two of you to agree with him, or simply consciously follow him, he grabbed your wrists and dragged you into his office -not far away from the place the party was going on. He pulled you in the room and forced you to sit down on two chairs, “What was that?”

Between the two, you were the most stubborn -you hated being scolded. Especially from the man you loved -the one you dreamt about at night, “We were just having fun. That’s what people do at parties”, you said trying to get up, but Steve put his hand on your shoulder and applied enough pressure to make you sit again.

“Enough parting for you two tonight.”

“What did I do?” Wanda spoke up, irritated by the Captain’s voice tone, “Can I-“

“No, we’re not going to ask to go back there”, you got up -this time making sure you were out of Steve’s look-, “C’mon”, you took Wanda’s hand and together you began approaching the door.

Little did you two know the Captain had locked the three of you inside the office, “Guess you can’t go anywhere without these”. Steve was leaning against the desk, shaking the keys in his hand.

“So, what? Are we staying here the whole night and wait for all the guests to be gone?”

“I have a better idea”, you said with her unique naughty smirk on, suddenly coming up with an idea. You approached Wanda and whispered to her ear your plan, knowing that she would be more than concordant with you.

Rogers couldn’t hear what the two were talking about but, by the look you two shared, he knew something was going to happen to him, “I’m not going to fight you”.

“Oh, we’re not”, your smirk never came off of your face, and slowly starts walking towards him.

The same did Wanda, next to you, “Not at all”.

Steve didn’t know what to do; he clearly didn’t know what was going on. Better, he had a vague idea, yet he refused to believe so, “Girls…” the soldier backed off until he hit the wall.

There was no way to escape.

“Not so bossy now, aren’t you?” your voice voice echoed in the empty room, with one last step you were now facing the blonde man, “Captain?”

He didn’t lose his control; he stood still and straight against the cold door. The closest the two girls got, the breathless he became. You were a few inches away from the Captain’s face when the smirk on your face disappeared and you turned to Wanda. And you kissed her. You literally made your lips crush against Wanda’s and cupped her head. At that sight Steve swallowed hard, not able to say anything to stop you two. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The built man stared at the girl’s lips on each other’s face; the Witch’s tongue in your mouth. He felt his pants and underwear getting tighter and tighter, his jaw and his fists clenching as he watched you two being so intimate and provocative. He just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Girls, don’t play with fire”, the Captain warned you, closing his eyes and hoping you would have listened to him.

Yet, you and Wanda didn’t.

Instead, your friend broke the kiss and turned to the Super Soldier standing in front of them. She can’t say if he was shocked or excited -or both-, but she found the answer when she let her eyes wander on his body. “Looks like we’ve made the Captain hard”, she stated, switching her eyes between the bulge in his pants and you.

“I’m sure we can do something to make you feel better”, you slowly kneeled down and, with a rapid movement, unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, lowering them up to his ankles. You couldn’t help but look at him while her hand slipped into his underwear and grasped his already hard cock. She pulled it out and stared at it, her mouth watery, before licking the pre-cum on the tip. All of a sudden you felt a strong hand on your hair and looked up; Steve was holding your hair with one hand and Wanda’s with the other, his lips on the Witch’s.

“Suck it”, those words were capable of make you shiver.

You licked the entire length, while your hand gently massaged his balls; when the grip among your hair tightened, you smirked and eventually put your lips on Steve’s pulsating pinkish cock. You started slowly, letting your tongue wander on his evident veins; the pace gradually increased.

Steve liked it; or, at least, that’s what you could state, given the moans coming from his mouth -currently on Wanda’s neck. Again, he put his hand among your hair and buried his cock in you mouth. Entirely. You widened your eyes but managed to take it in and not throw up. His manners, the possession he was showing, it was anything he had shown before. Perhaps none of the Avengers knew that part of him.

That’s why Y/N and Wanda weren’t expect Steve to be like that under the sheets.

He suddenly removed his cock from your mouth and, with a tug in your hair, forced you to look up at him, “Want me to cum in your mouth? Or over that pretty face of yours?”

You and Wanda were completely shocked by his behavior. You exchanged an ashen look, yet Steve caught them, “Maybe I should just wait”. Having said that, the super soldier grabbed the both of them by their waists and lifted them up, effortlessly.

Both caught by surprise, both the girls let out a gasp when he opened the door and walked down the hall, careless if anyone was there; once in front of his bedroom, Steve kicked the door open.

“On the bed”, he ordered in a tone which didn’t allow any kind of reply. Neither a discord.

You were already more than wet, only waiting for him to let you reach your climax over and over again. Yet your plans weren’t Steve’s.

“Clothes off”, he gave another order and sat down on the armchair in front of the bed. His eyes fixed on his colleagues, kneeled on his bed and about to strip for him. As you unzipped Wanda’s dress, Steve felt his boner was becoming harder and harder. He brought his right hand down to his clothed crotch and softly rubbed it -not wanting to cum in his pants.

The Witch was wearing a see-through black underwear. You had a similar underwear on, though it was dark red.

“Kiss”, a smirk came up onto his face, while he unbuttoned his pants and let his hard cock spring free. Steve slowly stroked it, his eyes-full of lust- still on the two girls, as you cupped Wanda’s face and gently trapped the Witch’s lips into yours. Your tongues danced together; a stream of saliva dripped from both of your chins. “Wanda, unclasp Y/N’s bra”.

Without even opening her eyes, Wanda’s hands reached your back and her fingers quickly unfastened the opening of your bra, leaving your breasts free. Unconsciously your left hand reached the slip you were wearing, and your fingers slipped in.

In a matter of seconds Steve got up and approached the two, though he didn’t climb on the bed. He grabbed your arm and put it at the base of your back, “Have I told you to do it?”, as your answer was late, Steve said: “Answer me!”

“N-no.”

He tightened the grasp around your arm, “What was that?”

“No, Captain”, you soon corrected yourself, batting your eyes, “I’m sorry, Captain”, you added in a lustful tone.

The way you pronounced it, the way you were looking at him through you long eyelashes, did nothing but turn him on even more, “Since you’ve been a naughty girl, you’ll be watching”. He made Wanda stop and dragged you off the bed, then he forced you on the chair he was sat before and said: “Enjoy the show”. He went back to Wanda, he quickly made her face the sheets and tied her hands behind her back and gently caressed her ass, “Are you ready?”

The girl nodded without taking her eyes off of Steve’s face, even when he put the tip of his cock to her entrance, “So wet for me, aren’t you?”, he rubbed his index and middle fingers on her folds, her juices all over his fingers, “Here, taste yourself”.

As soon as Wanda had opened her mouth, Roger’s fingers slipped into it, leaving behind them a sweet trace. Tasting herself aroused her even more; somehow, she was becoming wetter and the knot in her stomach tightened.

She was about to cum.

And she wasn’t the only one; on the chair you clenched your tights, trying to ease the pain coming from your pulsating clit -horny because of what was going on not far away from you. Steve had buried Wanda’s face into the mattress, her ass in the air, and was about to make his way into her -but, before, he glanced over you with a smirk on his face.

Without a warning, the Captain thrusted himself into Wanda, making her scream against the sheets.

“We don’t want anybody to hear us, do we?” the girl under him nodded as she made her best not to scream while Steve increased his pace. It was an unhuman speed. Something Wanda had never experienced before. And it was breathtaking.

Steve grasped Wanda’s throat, pulling her up until her back hit his chest, he grabbed her chin and turned her towards you -clearly in pain on the chair. Your chest raised up and down and your breath was heavy; the Captain didn’t allow you to touch herself, but you soon discovered it wasn’t necessary. You were about to come only by seeing them having sex.

“Bring her closer.”

Wanda followed his order and used her mgaic to pull your chair closer to them. A second after you were looking at Steve quickly thrusting in and out from your best friend. Some drops of Wanda’s juices squirted over your face and you licked it, pleased with yourself.

“Look at our bad girl, wanting to taste you”, Steve noticed it and it did nothing but let his smirk grow over his face, “Wanda, do you want her to taste you?”

Wanda was on edge, really close to cum over the Captain’s cock, and it made it difficult to answer his question. She raised her head and looked over her shoulder to see the built man looking at her and you, ready to jump on the bed at Steve’s command.

He had two girls in the palm of his hand.

“Y-yes, Captain”, Wanda whispered, feeling the knot in her stomach tightening more and more. She felt the mattress caving in as her best friend put her knee onto it.

“Face here, baby girl”, he gestured you to lay down right under Wanda’s entrance, where he’s thrusting deep in her up to her climax. Steve roughly grabbed your hair and buried your face into Wanda’s folds, “How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“G-great”, Wanda was almost unable to speak, as her climax approached, and her moans filled the room. She closed her eyes and pressed her face onto the pillows, releasing her screams. The Witch felt her legs shaking, then a strong grip on both her tights; she lowered her gaze and saw her best friend, smiling at her and licking her completely opened folds. The view of her juices, mixed with Steve’s cum, dripping from another girl’s chin was enough for her to come again.

“Now, what should I do with you and your bouncing tits?” as he ended covering your face with his cum, he lowered himself, “I should punish you”, he giggled and stand up, stretching a hand for you to get up as well. He looked into your eyes, sparkling and full of lust, and he came up with the perfect punishment for his naughty girl. Steve tossed you on the bed and wide-opened your legs, a moment after his full length was inside you.

You were breathless and when you understood he wouldn’t move, you moaned: “Fuck”, desperately trying not to let out one of her screams, “Please…move”, you said, feeling his cock still almost in her stomach.

“Gladly”, he thrusted into you once, with all his force and your moans pleased him, “Sweetheart, come here”, he brushed Wanda’s cheek and grabbed her chin, putting her mouth down on your clit, “Lick”. He began pushing his cock deeper inside of you, amazed by the fact that you could take all of that. The only noises in the room were your suppressed moans and Steve’s balls roughly banging onto your ass.

The man of your dreams was fucking you, really hard and roughly, and you weren’t the only one. You would have lied if you said having a threesome didn’t turned you on even more. Watching your best friend bend over you, sucking on your clit and shamelessly staring at you, made you cum in less than four minutes -absolutely a record time for you.

“Don't stop.”

When you heard it, coming for Steve, you couldn’t help but let out your moans and struggle, trying to resist the overstimulation. You looked as Steve kept Wanda’s head on her clit, not allowing her to move. “Please…” it was nothing more than a whisper, but the other two clearly heard it, “Cap-“, you voice broke when you reached your second climax.

“What a champ”, Steve said chuckling and made Wanda lifted her head and his eyes soon found hers, “On your knees, sweetheart”. Then he grabbed you by her throat and pushed you down on the floor. Both of you looking at him as if you were puppies made his cock grow in his hand. “Don’t open your mouths”, having said that, he stroked his hard a cock and in a matter of seconds he cum all over your faces -on your mouths, your cheeks and your closed eyes. With his hands he spread his hot cum more and looked at you, pleased with himself.

“Dress up. We have twenty minutes before the cake is out”, he opened his bathroom’s door and turned to you, still kneeled, and found you licking his cum from each other’s face, “Good girls. Now clean yourselves up”.

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