#though they’re obviously very attracted to each other

[petrichor-han]

summer lovin’ ; hwang hyunjin

PAIRING I hyunjin x afab!reader

CAST | hwang hyunjin, han jisung, mentions of the rest of skz

WC | 6.4k

GENRE I fluff, smut, (slight) crack, enemies to lovers, summer camp!au, camp counselor!au, reverse trope: too many beds/two beds

WARNINGS I explicit sexual content (making out, breast play, handjob, oral [m and f recieving], ball & clit sucking, teasing, grinding, p in v sex, dirty talk, clit stimulation, unprotected sex), explicit language, e2l so they're kinda mean to each other but they're nice in the end <3

SYNOPSIS | you find yourself as a camp counselor at the very summer camp you spent so many years at as a kid—except this time, you’re stuck with a very annoying (and, admittedly, very attractive) co-counselor and bunkmate.

A/N | requested by anonymous. thank you SO much for this request; i loved writing this reverse trope!! i also turned this into a summer camp au because a) it's summer and b) i was trying to think of places besides hotels where there are multiple beds in one room. anyways, hope you enjoy and thanks again!! if you enjoyed please reblog and consider leaving a few kind words <33 (event is now closed, but requests are open.)

REQUEST! | EVENT MASTERLIST

Yeah, okay. Maybe in hindsight, scrolling through your social media at a red light was a really stupid idea regardless. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the silent treatment when he asked if you hated him. And you definitely shouldn’t have dented his fancy car with your lamp. Maybe it’s not so surprising that he doesn’t like you, based on everything that he knows about you so far. Maybe this was all your fault, and you should take the blame entirely. 

Or maybe it’s not. 

Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form. 

12 HOURS EARLIER. 

Your thighs are practically melted to the cheap, fake leather that makes up your car seats. And there’s not much you can do about it either, since your car’s air conditioning is broken and the weather is already sizzling—even though it’s hardly past eight in the morning. It’s the sort of day that’ll surely be a scorcher, the sort of day that you like to spend inside. 

Instead, you’re driving down to the summer camp that you used to go to when you were a kid. You had plenty of good memories here—you liked summer camp after all, but it wasn’t like you exactly wanted to spend your summer here as an adult. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you think about all of your classmates and friends that have the budget to take luxurious vacations to various beaches, islands, and countries—and what they might be doing right now. As your car slows to a stop at a red light, you pick up your phone and quickly open your social media, scrolling through a few recent posts to see what’s going on with everyone. You can’t help but be nosy, when you’re so deep in your own stinking envy. 

A gasp escapes your lips, your hand coming up to rest on your chest as you narrow your eyes and furrow your brow at the next post on your feed. A girl that you used to go to high school with posted about being in the Bahamas, with her rich husband and their darling new baby—who’s smothered in sunscreen and wearing a swim shirt that’s about two sizes too small mind you, but they’re so perfect that it doesn’t even matter. Jealousy bubbles up in your stomach as you scroll through her post, looking at the background of the photos—beaches with white sand and cerulean waters, an obviously expensive hotel room, and a clear, private pool with a view of the entire resort. You gnaw at your nails as you click on her profile, groaning aloud as you see her other recent posts—clearly, she’s been doing a lot of traveling lately. And all with her husband’s fat paycheck, too. You momentarily wonder if it would be too much to send her a DM and ask if her husband has any other rich friends that can fund your ideal lazy lifestyle, but then decide against it. What are you, a golddigger? At this point… maybe? 

A loud honk shakes you from your thoughts, making you drop your phone. It slips from your hand and slides between the car seats, wedging itself just out of reach. Cursing aloud, you forget about the phone for a moment and angle your rear view mirror, squinting as you try to make out the face of the person in the car behind you—the asshole that just honked their horn at you. 

It’s a young man, probably around your age. He’s in some flashy, probably expensive black car that contrasts deeply with your hand-me-down, beat up old ‘97 Toyota. It’s so shiny and new that you’re not even sure what type of car it is. Annoyed, he runs his lithe fingers through his long dark hair and narrows his eyes at you, realizing that you’re finally looking back at him. Go, he mouths angrily at you, honking his horn again. He motions for you to turn around and look at the stoplight. It flashes green as soon as you turn around, making you scoff—what the hell was he on about? He had zero patience. 

“Fuckin’ jerk,” you mutter under your breath, as you step on the gas. Your car lurches forward, groaning loudly from the strain as you zoom away from the flashy, annoying stranger. His car disappears from your view as you hit the speed limit, snorting to yourself.

At least you didn’t have to deal with him ever again. 

You manage to dig your phone out of the car seat beside you at the next red light, and by then you’re already nearing the campsite. You recognize the tall trees that border the entrance of the camp, their trunks etched with decades of carvings and other graffiti from young, rebellious campers. A smile creeps onto your face as you recall the night that you made your own mark on those trees; you snuck out with a few older campers, feeling extra bold since all the other kids your age were too scared, and carved your initials at the very bottom of the trunk, beside a large knot in the wood. You remember that clearly—you chose that spot so that you’d easily be able to find it if you ever went back. 

You never did, however. That was the last year you attended the summer camp before you started taking up guitar lessons instead, which took up your summers from that point on. Still, you had several core memories from this place; important ones that shaped your childhood. 

The small parking lot for staff members comes into view as you turn onto the last road, entering the forest. The big trees at the entrance now surround your path, lining the bumpy, cracked asphalt road that you’re driving down. You park your car at the end of the lot, away from most of the other vehicles, and start unloading your things. 

It’s almost eerily quiet. You know that none of the campers are here yet, since counselors and other staff members are slated to come a few days before the kids arrive to get things settled first. But it still feels exceptionally still, save for the gentle breeze that’s blowing through the trees and rustling the giant leaves several feet above your head. You look up to look at the shifting foliage for a moment, sunlight peeking through the crevices and winking at you cheerily. It’s definitely beautiful, despite the chill that goes down your spine at the thought of being out here alone.  

You gather up an armful of your belongings, including a rather durable desk lamp that you probably didn’t need to bring but wanted to. Wobbling, the load much heavier than you’re used to carrying on a daily basis, you manage to slam your trunk shut, your car groaning from the effort. You can hear another car’s engine starting approach, and you wonder if it’s your co-counselor—you were informed that you’d be getting a bunkmate, with whom you’d be sharing schedules with and sharing campers with. The sound of the car gets louder, and soon you can hear the tires crunching on the asphalt, pebbles scattering across the road. You can’t see over the pile of blankets that are holding your lamp in place in your arms, but when you hear the car door open, you manage to shout out a greeting. 

You walk forward a little, but with every step the blankets and lamp start slipping further out of your grasp. “Oh, shit,” you curse, as you feel the load slipping from your arms all at once—you try to grab the lamp, at least, but only succeed in accidentally hitting it with your hand, smashing it against the door of the car that’s parked beside yours.

The car that’s parked beside yours? Hardly registering the dent in the passenger door of the shiny black car, you narrow your eyes as you realize that this asshole parked right beside you when he had almost an entire lot of empty parking spaces to choose from. Scoffing, you pick up your lamp and fling your now dusty blankets over your shoulder. Just as you’re about to walk away, anger bubbling in your stomach, the owner of the car opens his door, stepping out. “Hey!” he shouts at you haughtily. 

Your jaw drops. No wonder this stupid car looked so familiar—it’s the jerk from earlier. And he looks pissed; even more pissed off than before. 

Gasping as he sees the dent on the door of his car, he whirls around to face you, a scowl etched onto his admittedly pretty features. “What the hell?” he shouts, gesturing wildly at his smashed in door. 

“It was an accident,” you say defensively, hugging your lamp and blankets to your chest as you take a step back. You glare daggers at him as he frustratedly runs his fingers through his hair—just like he did when you first saw him, on the road—and curses loudly, turning away as he exhales sharply. 

You roll your eyes at his overreaction. Sure, it was annoying to have your car dented by a stranger—that much you understand. But the way he’s breathing hard and clenching his fists at his sides made you cringe, unable to take him seriously. You start to walk away, your shoes crunching on the dirt path as you follow the trail towards your cabin. 

“Where are you going? I’m not done talking to you!” the man shouts, running up to walk alongside you. He matches your pace, looking down at the mass of blankets in your arms. “What’re you doing, moving in?” 

“I’m a camp counselor, idiot,” you snap, nudging him out of the way as the cabin comes into view. It’s a decent distance away from the other buildings, which you can see faintly between masses of trees and thick summer foliage. The cabin itself is made out of reddish logs, and it looks cozy and classic—the exact cabin you have in your memories from your childhood. You fumble with the key, which is shoved deep in the pocket of your jean shorts, as you attempt to hold all of the blankets in one hand. You only succeed in dropping everything again, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the man behind you clears his throat loudly. You whirl around, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “And what are you doing here anyways? I pissed you off so bad that you had to follow me?” you say haughtily, as you shove the key into the lock roughly. The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing a clean, sunny interior with two sets of bunk beds. 

“I’m a counselor too, idiot,” he snaps, using your own insult against you. 

A pang of fear pierces its way into your stomach—he’s a camp counselor too? Here? It couldn’t be that he’s the one you’re meant to room with, right? There were so many other cabins that counselors could be assigned to. 

Whipping out your phone, you pull up your screenshot of your cabin address and your roommate’s information. You thrust the phone in his face, making him squint at the screen and exclaim in disgust at the proximity. “You’re not Hyunjin, are you?” you ask skeptically, looking him up and down. 

The man’s face pales, and he clears his throat again—though he sounds much less confident and sure of himself than he did before. “Why do you ask that?” he asks, crossing his arms. “How do you know that?” 

“Fuck,” you grumble, sinking to the floor amongst your blankets. You rub your aching temples, a headache from your stressful morning already presenting itself despite the early hour. “Fuck.” 

Muttering something under his breath, Hyunjin rifles through his pockets, and you look up as you hear what sounds like crumpling paper. He pulls a wrinkled sheet out of the back pocket of his jeans, trying to smooth it out with his fingers. Narrowing his eyes as he reads over his roommate information, he holds it out to you. “So this is you, then?” he asks, in disbelief. He chuckles bitterly, smoothing his hand over his mouth. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

You look up at Hyunjin to glare at him, offended by his disgust, but he’s already sauntering over to one of the bunk beds—the one with the bigger window on its side of the room. You spot a dry erase marker—left behind by another camp counselor, likely—and draw a thick black line on the floor, dividing the entire cabin in half. The marker squeaks loudly as you harshly draw the line on the wooden planks, and Hyunjin covers his ears, groaning in exasperation. 

“Just stay on your side and we won’t have a problem,” you mutter, capping the marker and throwing it over your shoulder. It clatters to the ground noisily, but you don’t bother to pick it up, or even look back to see where it landed—on your side, or his. 

—

At that point, you’d learned two things about Hyunjin, your new roommate and co-counselor; one, he was a douchebag, and two—well—his name was Hyunjin. 

The third thing you learned about him was that he had a stupid amount of friends, and you had no clue why they all seemed to have separation anxiety or something. None of them were even working at the camp alongside the two of you either—they just dropped by unannounced (to you) and started helping Hyunjin move his stuff in. The lazy bastard didn’t even lift a single finger as his seven friends moved in his endless boxes of clothing, of paints and oil pastels. (You were now wondering if the cabin was going to permanently smell like an elementary school art classroom.) 

“Jesus!” one of them—a small, jumpy guy with round cheeks—shouts, as he spots you sitting in the corner, scrolling through social media mindlessly as you try to stay out of their way. You’d moved there as soon as they filed into the room, hiding from their sight—and the multiple stacks of boxes that wobbled precariously as the seven men marched in and out of the room carelessly, brushing past it and scaring the shit out of you. “How long have you been here?” he asks, setting down a box full of what looked to be hair products. He wipes his sweaty brow, panting slightly. 

“The entire time,” you say, shrugging. You try not to let the awkwardness get to you—you’d hoped that they’d all leave before they realized you were still here. 

He laughs a little awkwardly, clearly feeling the uncomfortableness of confrontation. His cheeks flush pink as he realizes that they’d all just overlooked you the entire time. He tries to change the subject. “Are you his new roommate, then?” the round cheeked boy asks with a smile, extending his sticky hand to yours. You gingerly take it, not wanting to be rude, and shake it. “You’re not what I expected.” 

“Meaning…?” you ask, ducking out of the way as another one of Hyunjin’s friends walks by with a duffel bag that’s spilling clothing items onto the floor with every step. 

“Uh… just forget I said anything,” he says quickly, his cheeks flushing even darker as his gaze drops to the floor. Without another word, he presses his lips together and walks out the door, following a few of the others as they leave to presumably bring in even more of Hyunjin’s seemingly endless luggage. How much did a single person need to pack for summer camp? It looked like he packed up his entire apartment and was going to attempt to cram it into a singular, tiny cabin. Sighing exasperatedly, you kick one of Hyunjin’s bags over—it was on your side of the line—and sit down on the edge of your bed. So it seems that Hyunjin already told his massive friend group about what a bitch he thinks you are. 

Luckily, his friends don’t come back. He does, about half an hour later, with a beer in hand and his cheeks slightly pink from his tipsiness. He doesn’t apologize for his luggage that’s taking up more than his half of the cabin, nor the lack of warning before your space was invaded by over half a dozen loud young men. 

He slams the door behind him, exhaling loudly as he flops onto his own bed, slopping beer all over the front of his shirt. His eyes widen, and he groans loudly, annoyed. “Damn it,” he whines, pulling at the soaked material, “do you see this?” He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, sending a surprising pang of attraction through your chest—you hadn’t realized just how appealing he was before, when he was pissing you off so bad you couldn’t think straight. His messy bangs fall into his dark, sparkling eyes as he tilts his head to the side slightly, studying you. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, but he seems to have forgotten about it as his gaze meets yours. 

“You don’t like me,” he says suddenly—more of a statement than a question, but he still seemed to be asking for some sort of confirmation or denial. 

You hesitate, your words sticking in your throat as you try to respond. He waits patiently, expectantly for you to say something, but you don’t. Your lips stay sealed shut as you stare at him—and your gaze must seem so cold and unfeeling as your lips refuse to move a single centimeter—not even to quirk upwards into a slight smile to show him that you like him, just a tiny bit. Even if he pissed you off today. Even if you pissed him off today. 

It’s more out of embarrassment than anything, as Hyunjin narrows his eyes at your silence. It’s sobering—he can feel his mind clearing immediately, the slight tipsiness from the beer gone in a flash. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and his cheeks redden as he tries to retract the flirty tone, the hope laced in his voice as he secretly longed for you to deny it; that you do like him, that you don’t hate him and you want to get to know him better—anything. “The feeling’s mutual, then,” he spits, knocking his beer onto the ground as he storms out of the cabin, slamming the door before you have the chance to fully register what’s happening. 

The tiny bit of “like” disappears at his emotional outburst, your expression souring as you’re left alone in the cluttered room. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer, dickhead,” you mutter under your breath. 

Never has an interaction with someone gone so wrong for you before. Never have there been so many misunderstandings, and so many mistakes. 

It’s never been this hard to get someone to like you. 

Meanwhile, Hyunjin storms off, meeting up with a few other counselors and camp staff members, that were just about to head out to get some firewood. Similar thoughts stew in his mind as he takes out his emotions on the logs of pre-cut wood, his ax swinging in the air and glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. 

Yeah, he thought you were stupid for missing the green light because you were on your phone. Yeah, he was pissed that you dented his car. And yeah—he was really embarrassed that you didn’t answer him when he teasingly, flirtily asked if you really hated him—solidifying, in his mind, the idea that it’s true. 

He swings the ax down again, grunting loudly as he chops another piece of wood in half. He pants, putting his weight onto the ax and leaning forward as he feels sweat dripping down the back of his neck. A comforting hand places itself on his back, making him look up—it’s another counselor, smiling kindly at him. 

“I think we can head back now. We have more than enough for tonight,” they say, gesturing towards the large pile of wood—most of which came from Hyunjin’s emotional outburst. Slightly embarrassed, Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow and nods, pulling the ax out of the ground and following the group back to the campsite. 

The rest of the counselors and staff that didn’t go to chop wood are now sitting outside, around the empty, unlit fire pit. Only a few thin logs and sticks are tossed in haphazardly, and one of the counselors that was chopping wood alongside Hyunjin sighs loudly and goes to fix it. 

Hyunjin’s gaze drifts around the circle of people, searching for you. He sees you, sitting directly opposite him on the other side of the fire pit. You’re sitting with another counselor, with whom you seem to be making polite conversation with. It sends a pang of hurt through his body, a stab of regret. If he hadn’t been so hasty, maybe he could’ve been the one sitting next to you and getting to know you better. 

He settles for chatting with a few people that were chopping wood with him and roasting a few marshmallows to act like he’s not paying attention to you—though he definitely is. He swallows hard as he watches the way your face lights up when you laugh, and how pretty you look by the firelight. Your eyes sparkle as you talk to the person sitting beside you, speaking excitedly and animatedly about something—and Hyunjin finds that he longs to know. There’s something intoxicating about the atmosphere—it makes him dizzy with hope, and hopeful for something more. 

Marshmallow after marshmallow catches on fire as he watches you out of the corner of his eye, trying to pick up on any bit of conversation from across the loudly crackling fire. He pretends that he likes them burnt, loudly laughing it off when another counselor pipes up that he seems distracted. 

“You’re funny,” he says dryly, before throwing his stick into the fire pit and walking back to the cabin that he shares with you. 

—

He claimed that the smoke made his eyes hurt, and it was making him cough too. Even though you were watching him the whole time, and he didn’t cough once. Unless you count the two times he choked on burnt marshmallows, spitting the charred remains into the grass beside him as he insisted that he liked them that way. 

The empty spot glares at you from across the fire, taunting you. Was it you that made him leave? 

He was certainly mad earlier, when you failed to respond to his teasing. In all fairness, you intended to—it just didn’t happen. But that doesn’t ease your mind enough as you unhappily chew your own perfectly golden brown marshmallow, watching the remains of Hyunjin’s marshmallow stick crackling and burning in the fire. 

“I’m gonna head in too. I still have a lot to unpack,” you lie to the person sitting beside you, who nods and hardly registers your departure before getting engrossed in another conversation with someone else. 

Tossing your own stick into the fire as well, you make your way back to the cabin you share with Hyunjin. A small lantern hangs right outside the front door, lighting your way as you carefully walk up the creaky wooden stairs. 

You find that—unsurprisingly—it’s much easier to unlock the door when your arms aren’t full of blankets and a stupidly heavy lamp. You enter the cabin, and Hyunjin looks up from where he’s sitting; propped up against the headboard of his bottom bunk bed. His expression is unchanging as he briefly looks at you and then looks back down at the notebook in his lap. As you peer over, trying to be unsuspicious, you see a light sketch of what looks like the forest bordering the campsite. 

“That’s nice,” you say, clearing your throat as you lock the door behind you and sit down on your own bed, facing him. He looks up at you again, his eyes wide with surprise, before he turns the sketchbook towards you, a slight grin creeping onto his face. 

“Thanks,” he says carefully, as he puts the sketchbook aside. He exhales sharply and clasps his hands together as he looks over at you. “And sorry about earlier. I was kinda drunk and I thought you were making fun of me, so I bailed.” He forces out a sheepish chuckle, his cheeks burning with embarrassment once again. “If it makes you feel any better, I ended up chopping firewood and almost cut off my own hand a few times.” 

“Probably not the best idea to chop wood when you’re ‘kinda drunk,’” you laugh softly, as you hug your knees to your chest. Hyunjin chuckles softly along with you, feeling more at ease now. “I’m sorry too. For being an idiot on the road and for denting your car. I’ll pay for it. Promise.” You hold up your pinky—jokingly—as if you were going to make a literal pinky promise with him. 

Much to your surprise, he smiles goofily and gets out of bed, stepping over the line on the middle of the floor. He leans over and links his pinky with yours, gently shaking it as he meets your gaze and smiles at you, his eyes squinting cutely. 

He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans close, his hand large and warm against yours. You can see a knobby callous on his fourth finger, likely from the way he holds his pencil as he draws. Graphite and what looks to be watercolor paints stain his skin lightly, as if soap weren’t enough to rid the evidence of his artistry—as if it were graphite and watercolor that ran through his veins instead of blood, and it was just natural for it to be there regardless. His fingernails are clean, and kept incongruously short—another artistic precaution, you guess? 

Before you can make any more observations, his touch leaves as soon as it comes, and he pulls away, stepping back over the line and sitting on the edge of his bed, suddenly much too far away from you. It’s odd—you only spent perhaps ten seconds in such close proximity to him, yet you think that if you don’t get it again you might die. Is life worth living if you can’t be that close to living artwork itself? 

Despite the longing that makes your limbs twitch with holding back, you don’t say anything more to Hyunjin, and he doesn’t say anything more to you. He unpacks his things silently as you shuffle around the cabin, getting ready for bed. By the time the lights are out, the entire campsite is completely silent. The fire died out ages ago; the crackling and popping of the wood burning has long since ceased, and the smell of smoke is prominent in the air—though perhaps your wide-open windows might be contributing to that as well. But what else can you do when it’s disgustingly hot, and you don’t have any sort of air conditioning? 

A cool, gentle night breeze blows through the air, disturbing the loose papers on Hyunjin’s nightstand and making a soft rustling sound. 

Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form. 

You hold back a gasp, pressing your lips together tightly as your grip on your blanket grows clammy. After a few moments of painful silence and prolonged eye contact, Hyunjin sits up in bed, ducking under the top bunk as he moves to the edge of the mattress, his blanket slipping from his body. 

You’ve lost count of the things you’ve learned about Hyunjin at this point, but you learn another thing here. 

He sleeps naked. 

You have to stifle another gasp as the blanket threatens to slip down further, exposing him completely, but he places a hand over it just as it exposes his happy trail. He chuckles a little awkwardly, his fingers tangling in the blanket as he pulls it up further. “Sorry,” he says, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth. 

You’re speechless again, but this time you force yourself to do something even if you can’t say anything. The last thing you want is another misunderstanding, another chance for this terribly beautiful man to slip through your fingers. 

Hyunjin has to swallow back a groan as he watches you come over to him, your gaze washing over him in a way that makes him feel so desired, so wanted. He can’t help but let go of the blanket, letting it slip to the ground and expose his hardening cock, which twitches with anticipation as you sink to your knees between his legs. Hyunjin licks his lips, his cheeks flushing as he meets your gaze. Your hands smooth over his thighs before you push them apart a little more, and before he can say anything one of your hands has made its way to his cock, wrapping around the base of it and stroking gently, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He throws his head back and moans softly, his abs tensing as you rub your thumb over his weeping slit, giggling softly at the way his hips buck up harshly. 

He looks down at you as you lean closer, running your hot tongue along his balls and making him whimper. His cock pulses in your hand as you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth, feeling the slight weight of it on your tongue as you massage it carefully. Hyunjin’s fingers come down to tangle in your hair as he gasps loudly, more precum leaking from his tip as you use your hand to stroke his length while you tongue his balls. 

You remove your mouth with a soft moan, your tongue lolling out as you lick up his tight balls and up the underside of his cock. His precum is salty, filmy on your tongue as you lick it up before taking the head of his cock into your mouth, suckling hard and eliciting a choked groan as his hips stutter. 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he gasps, gently pulling you off of his cock as he shudders, his orgasm fading as his cock twitches, craving more stimulation. “I wanna fuck you,” he insists, when you try to squirm out of his grasp to lick at his cock again. He only tightens his grip on you, staring into your eyes for a moment before gently laying you down on his bottom bunk bed, ducking back underneath to crawl on top of you. 

His touch is eager but not rough as he helps you out of your clothes, throwing them onto the floor carelessly. His eyes settle on your bare skin with every piece of clothing that you remove until you’re completely nude, and he runs his hands up and down your sides appreciatively. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, biting his plush lower lip as he stares at your body for a few moments more, before looking back up into your eyes. His gaze is lustful, full of desire—yet there’s something a little mournful too, a glimmer of hope. 

It makes you want to kiss him, more than anything. Your lips crash onto his, but he was ready—it’s like he was wanting it too. He kisses you back eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth as his soft lips engulf yours. His hands hesitantly rest on your hips, his touch light as a feather, before you place your hands over his and move them up to your breasts. He moans into the kiss, gently squeezing your tits in his hands and rubbing his calloused thumbs over your hardening nipples, making you groan. You can feel his cock rubbing against your inner thigh as he bucks his hips, hissing at the slight friction on his sensitive length. 

He slides one of his hands down your curves, his fingers dancing lightly across your skin as he reaches between your legs. Shakily, you part your legs for him more as he glides his digits through your silky folds, groaning quietly as he feels your wetness. “Maybe all that arguing was like foreplay to you,” he says smugly, earning him a gentle smack to the arm from you as you protest. 

“Then I can definitely say the same about you,” you retort, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. His length slides over your soaking pussy, making both of you groan again. 

“If I admit it, can I fuck you already?” he asks, his tone light and teasing. He starts to grind his cock against your weeping slit, obscene slick noises emanating around the cabin. You can’t help but let out a strangled moan as the head of his cock slides over your clit, making your thighs twitch uncontrollably. 

“Yes, please,” you gasp, not caring any more—all you wanted was him to fuck you. 

A cocky smile spreads across his face, but before you can make fun of him for it he slides himself into you, eliciting shaky moans from the both of you. 

It burns slightly; it’s been a while since you’ve hooked up with anyone, so naturally you’re once again not used to the feeling. The pain comes with pleasure, however, and you can’t ignore the deep thrum of pleasure that’s starting to pool in your stomach, your cunt pulsing around Hyunjin’s length and making him exhale shakily as he tries to hold still so that you can adjust to his size. 

He reaches down, his thumb slicking over your clit gently as he pushes more of his length into your tight warmth, until he bottoms out completely with a pleasured sigh. 

“So full…” you whimper, squirming underneath Hyunjin as he hovers over you, his warm breath tickling your skin as his lips ghost over your neck. 

“That’s right, baby,” he coos, as he pulls out all the way, agonizingly slow—before thrusting back in again all at once, his hips smacking against yours. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the room as he sets a deep, steady pace, making you whimper and cry out with each languid, carefully angled thrust. “So full of my cock…” 

He chuckles as you curse under your breath, a hint of a whine in your whispers that he picks up on easily. He starts to rub your clit faster, applying more pressure to the sensitive little nub with his thumb. Your wetness coats your clit, his fingers, his cock, as he fucks into you more desperately now, the mere sight of your tight cunt and the pleasured expression on your face starting to edge him closer to his inevitable orgasm. 

His breathing is ragged now, his thrusts more sloppy and less rhythmic as he moans and buries his face in your neck once more, pressing kisses to your skin and nipping gently. “So close,” he gasps, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin near your collarbone, “so fucking close…” 

With a choked moan, he pulls out of you just as thick ropes of cum erupt from his tip, landing across your tits and stomach. He strokes himself through his orgasm, groaning loudly as more creamy semen drips from his slit, leaking over his fingers. The sight makes your pussy throb with need; you still haven’t finished, and you’re a little pissed off—you were getting quite close, before he finished. 

Hyunjin notices your expression as his orgasm fades and he removes his hand from his length, panting softly. 

“I didn’t forget about you,” he says tenderly, winking at you before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. He moves down, kissing and nibbling at your soft skin on both thighs before he reaches your cunt. With a smile, he reaches down to spread your lips with his fingers, chuckling as you whine with embarrassment, heat rising to your face. “I promised I’d make you feel good,” he says, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cunt. “And I’m gonna.” 

He licks a fat, wide stripe up your pussy, groaning as he tastes your musky wetness on his tongue. He laps at your slit for a moment, making your thighs start to jump and twitch as you grasp at the sheets beneath you. The feeling of his tongue pressing ever so slightly against your hole, the teasing… it makes you leak even more against his lips, which he eagerly licks up again. His hands grab your twitching thighs, holding them apart as he devours your pussy. 

Moaning loudly as he wraps his plush lips around your clit and sucks, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his messy dark locks, tugging his face closer to your soaking pussy as he sucks on and licks your swollen clit. He complies eagerly, burying his face closer to your cunt—his nose bumps against your clit as he messily laps at your slit, his tongue slipping into your tight hole. 

It’s more than enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you—it’s so intense that your mind nearly goes blank, your limbs stiffen and seize as you whimper loudly, pulling Hyunjin ever-closer as your hand is still buried in his dark, tangled locks. 

He licks at your pussy through your orgasm, and once the last few waves of pleasure fade from your body he kisses back up your stomach, up your chest and collarbone, until he reaches your lips. This kiss is different from the other ones; it’s much more tender and sweet, much less hungry and full of desire. 

“Will you sleep here with me tonight?” he asks, pouting as he lays beside you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“In your bunk bed instead of mine? No way. There’s way too many beds in here for two people, might as well take advantage of it,” you tease lightly, wiggling in his arms. He laughs softly, squeezing you tighter—he really wanted you to stay. 

“Please?” he begs, tickling you and making you squeal as his lithe fingers prod at your sensitive sides. “Please stay with me?” 

You never really wanted to leave anyways. 

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want,” you say, pretending to finally give in, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you loosely drape your arms around his neck. 

“Just until you piss me off again by doing something stupid,” he teases, turning your face ever so slightly so that he can kiss your lips, instead of you kissing his cheek again. 

You melt into the kiss so quickly, so consumed by Hyunjin and his full lips that you hardly register what he said—until you realize. “Hey!” you scowl against his lips, as he bursts into peals of soft, melodic laughter. 

© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved.

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!

[haikyu-mp4]

Huge frog fan

word count; 807 – f!reader, very suggestive, Sendai Frogs is a university team

You were never interested in sports. Even when you went to high school at Karasuno and your school’s volleyball team made it to nationals for the first time in a while, your sole focus was academic achievement. It garnered you the best grades but you realised the second you had those that you were burnt out. Now that you’re in university, you’re a bit more relaxed as it’s easier to balance school and student living. You’ve changed.

So you let your best friend drag you along when your university’s volleyball team were playing a game against another university, in exchange for her buying you a drink before the game. A great deal, in your opinion, as the sweaty men jumping around and passing the ball to each other so nicely wasn’t too bad either. “They’re so great at sharing,” you joked, making your friend look at you weirdly. “The ball, I mean.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Then your eyes actually zeroed in on one particular player who you hadn’t noticed yet because he was from the opposing team, and you coughed wildly as the drink got stuck in your throat. That’s fucking Tsukishima Kei, your closest thing to an academic rival in high school.

You caught your breath, eyes still stuck on him with disbelief because why is he suddenly not so lanky. He filled out the uniform quite nicely, and he must have gotten even taller. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have,” you said in the most dramatic voice like it’s an old movie. Your friend snorted, asking about who it was. “That one, Tsukishima. We went to high school together. He was... not this hot,” you answered, biting the tip of your thumb nail.

“The one with the glasses? Didn’t see that for you but go on,” she hummed in thought, not necessarily judging. As if in the nick of time, a break was called and he walked off, more huddled between the other frog shirts. Green wasn’t his colour, you lied to yourself. You couldn’t help how you zoned out as he seemed to be taping up his fingers, your eyes honed in on those hands. Those are some attractive hands.

You started smiling, sipping your drink with an extra slurp to make sure you had your companion’s attention. “He is so coming home with me.”

After the game, you went to the bar for a glass of water, grabbing a straw so you can chew on it while sipping and looking around for the tall blocker. You hum under your breath. Did he leave the room already?

Your friend already left to get on with her business, but not before winking at you with encouragement. You got this, you repeated in your head until your view was filled with green. There he was, talking to another guy from his team who seemed to do just fine talking even though Tsukishima didn’t answer much. You tapped his shoulder.

Oh, wow. For a second, you couldn’t find your words, mind rinsing through less innocent thoughts at how he looked up close, sweat still leftover on parts of his skin, especially his neck. Suddenly the water wasn’t hydrating enough for you. And it got even worse when he lifted a hand to wipe away a drop of sweat, giving you another look at those hands up close. “Tsukki!” you cooed, knowing he at least didn’t like that nickname before. “Long time no see.”

He seemed to squint for a moment, either quite annoyed or making sure he recognised you from the right place. You’re different, but it’s definitely you. “Can’t complain about that,” he answered, and the meanness of it made you smile wider. Great, his personality is still terrible. Just your type. “Thought you weren’t interested in sports.”

“People change,” you said, a challenging spark in your eye as you traced your pointed finger down the middle of his chest. “I’m a huge frog fan.” You were so obviously teasing his team’s bright uniform and cute name that you were pleasantly surprised when one corner of his mouth seemed to tweak upwards even though the familiar tsk-sound fell off his lips. Score.

Next thing you knew, your back was pressed against the inside of the door to your apartment, one of Tsukishima’s arms on each side locking you in while his lips devoured yours. He moved on to placing hungry kisses on your neck, his arms falling to your sides while your heavy breath mixed with muffled moans rang in his ear.

He leaned in close to your ear, his words whispered and sending a chill down your spine that made you clench your thighs together before he forced his knee between them. “Your lips taste even better than they used to, but you’re still a brat.”

masterlist

[actualhumantrashcan]

I can understand a silly workplace comedy about pirates not being everyone’s jam but I really can’t understand the amount of queer people I see hating on ofmd.

like for one thing most of the debates turn into gatekeeping queerness (which I think has a lot more to do with the ages of the main couples than actual concerns about authentic representation but that’s another post) and the rest are just hateful because it doesn’t directly name or label it’s queer characters but like why do we need that at this point?? listen I love heartstopper with all my heart but it is exhausting to watch them explain queer identities sometimes (even though I do think it’s super useful for younger audiences I’m just not the target demographic!) and ofmd is an explicit, violent, adult show that doesn’t NEED to explain it’s character’s identities.

queer people past their 30’s are usually very well aware of their queerness and have had (hopefully) plenty of time to go through the arc of discovering that. so why would we need to see Stede or Lucius or Ed going through turmoil because they’re attracted to men when they have already come to terms with that at this point in their lives?? i for one find it so fucking refreshing to watch a show where the characters being queer is not their main arc, they just ARE queer and life is still happening to and around them. maybe that’s just the millennial gay in me talking, but it gets emotionally exhaustive to watch show after show where the queer character’s arc is overcoming homophobia. yes obviously homophobia still exists and yes obviously if ofmd was trying to be historically accurate these characters would be living in a very dangerous time to be queer but it isn’t trying to be accurate!! it’s trying to be fun and diverse and kind!!

and also, they aren’t pretending homophobia doesn’t exist!! it’s just addressed in a different way. Stede was emotionally abused by his father for his entire life for being “soft” and then was chased down by his homophobic childhood bullies, one of which explicitly told him that he “defiled” the great pirate Blackbeard by simply falling in love with the man behind that name. Meanwhile Ed was forced into the world of piracy at a young age and developed the entire persona of Blackbeard (who fits the toxic, violent masculine stereotype of the time) to hide the fact that he’s actually an incredibly sensitive and deeply queer man! and is told multiple times by male figures in his life that sex with other men is fine but it is absolutely unacceptable to be in love with a man. both of their arcs contain homophobic rhetoric that is still present in society today, but its never presented as a problem that they have to wrestle with. they don’t have to come to terms with what it means to love each other, they just have to overcome some trials that go along with the complicated lives they both lead as a pirate and former aristocrat. the homophobia in ofmd is woven into the backstory of each and every character, it shapes them into the people they are at the beginning of the show when all of their walls are up and they are performing the “pirate” roles they are supposed to play. and then we get to see them grow and realize that they are in a safe space, part of a community not just on the ship itself but in the life of piracy (which in the show is pretty much explicitly an allegory for queer lifestyles.)

anyway, I could rant about this all day but just truly why do we have to tear people down for enjoying something? why do we have to find reasons to hate something so obviously created with sensitivity to it’s queer audience and with so much queer joy? if historically inaccurate gay pirates going on silly adventures and falling in love are not your thing, fine! but perhaps just let people enjoy things and find your own things to enjoy.

[i-care-4u]

more central cee pls !

FACE TO FACE | CENTRAL CEE

PAIR: CENTRAL CEE X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

TAGGED: @playboykenz

A/N: to the two anons that asked for more central cee, i hope you enjoy this little fic i wrote!

FACE TO FACE SERIES: jack harlow | central cee

-

as the cameras were getting ready, oakley couldn’t help but to giggle about the fact that his girlfriend was going to interview him.

this was something you loved doing with oakley at home. coming from work, you and oakley would be having long nights together, answering and giggling about each other’s answers. this time, the public was going to watch this, and oakley felt comfortable sharing his answers to them.

you introduced yourself to everyone, “hello gq, i’m y/n l/n, and today i’ll be asking a set of questions to central cee.”

in front of you, there was a laptop, with oakley being in front of your screen. you start the call, “hi cench.”

oakley blushed, “hi y/n.”

“today we get to share to everyone what we do at home,” you show the cameras the set of cards filled with questions, “the couple’s quiz!”

-

☆ FIRST QUESTION - “HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN THREE WORDS?”

“three words,” oakley starts saying words that came in mind, “focused, candid….”

you nod, using this as a sign to keep going. “come on, one more, one more!”

oakley immediately went back to thinking mode. you lay your head down, trying not to burst into laughter. you raised your head afterwards, “you want me to help you out?”

“of course,” oakley said, with a charming smile at you.

“cee.”

“yes?”

with a straight face, you admit, “i think you’re very cute.”

“focused, candid, and cute it is.”

☆ SECOND QUESTION - “FIVE ESSENTIALS?”

for this question, the staff brought in the items, and oakley removes his chain in order to showcase it to everyone. “obviously, we have to go with this one first.”

you tried not to brag, but you let it slide since you’re his girlfriend, “picked by the best.”

oakley nods in agreement, “mhm.”

he then showcased the watch on his wrist, “another one picked by y/n, and it’s this watch.”

he then explains three other objects: headphones, crackers, and a book.

“i have two headphones - one i use for the gym and the other during my spare time,” oakley pulled a bag of crackers close to the camera, “these crackers were gifted by my mum in christmas, they’re so delicious.”

he smiled as he showed everyone a book. the book was very special to him, as it was another gift - this time it was from you to him. “this book is gifted by y/n, and i love to carry it on the road. i still remember those words, telling me it’s a reminder of love.”

“it’s like you’re carrying a piece of me, you know?”

☆ THIRD QUESTION - “WHAT’S THE MOST ROMANTIC THING YOU’VE EVER DONE?”

sarcastically, oakley answered, “i’m a hopeless romantic…”

you jokingly glared at him, “really?”

“i don’t know man, i’m transitioning, i’m changing. this is all hard for me like i’m trying to think-”

“boo hoo,” you mocked, “it was so hard for you. why don’t you just grow up?”

oakley admits, “it’s easier said than done.”

☆ FOURTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR SELF CARE ROUTINE?”

oakley repeated the question, “my self care routine?”

you looked down at the card, “yes.”

“my self care routine consists of sleeping, waking up to do my skin care, going to the studio,” oakley gets into detail, “people don’t tend add that, but music is a form of self care. it’s enjoyable and arguably, a form of therapy.”

“i can see where you’re coming from, and i agree,” you comment, “music is universal.”

☆ FIFTH QUESTION - “FAVORITE LYRIC?”

oakley shrugs, “god knows.”

“i don’t know that one.”

“do you swear on the shore?” oakley asked you.

“yeah,” you nod, “shit.”

he laughs, and you added, “crumbs.”

oakley continued laughing at your nonsense, “what?”

you lied, “i swear all the time, okay?”

oakley knew it wasn’t true at all, leaving it with a simple response. “okay,” he shook his head, “it’s not that attractive though is it?”

as a joke, you tried to impress your boyfriend, slamming your hands on the table. “okay, i don’t swear!”

☆ SIXTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE RED CARPET LOOK FROM ME?”

oakley leaned on the chair. “ooh, this is a tough one. am i allowed to say my favorite runway look?”

“nope.”

“just red carpet.”

“yes.” you got close to the webcam, and the only thing that showed up on oakley’s screen was your eyes and forehead. “…say it!”

he picked his top five looks of yours, “as of right now, i would have to go with your mtv video music awards from 2022, the met gala look from 2022, and last year and this year’s grammys look.

“and you got to thank law roach for the styling.” you start giving him a round of applause.

☆ SEVENTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY ENCOUNTER?”

oakley recounts, “apologies y/n, but i got to tell the funny one.”

you blankly stare at him, “the one where we met drake?”

“yes,” oakley smirked. he starts telling the story behind it, “so we went to this festival, and drake decided to invite us to the after party. during the party, he was on his phone scrolling on instagram, and that’s when he showed me a picture of y/n. he was like, who is this, she’s so pretty? that’s when i answered him, saying that it was y/n, who was right there. she didn’t say anything, but rather laughed about the whole situation.”

you add, “he was definitely drunk there, and he was surprised by my appearance at the party afterwards.”

☆ EIGTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S SOMETHING ABOUT ME THAT PEOPLE DON’T KNOW?”

“i think people should pay attention to what i’m about to say,” oakley exposes your hobby, “but y/n loves gardening.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, believing that it’s not that big of deal as he makes. “why are you making it such a big deal? leave me and my plants out of this!”

“i find it very cute though,” oakley visualizes, “walking outside to see you watering your plants. i can name some from the top of my head.”

you crossed your arms, having a smug look. “oh really?” you scoffed.

“yeah.”

oakley starts listing names of your plants, causing you to be left with a speechless face that was soon filled with laughter.

reflecting at this question, you also found it cute that oakley remembered your not-so-secret hobby of gardening. the way he remembered the names of your plants indicated his love language.

☆ NINTH QUESTION - “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE ME FOR A DAY?”

“what would y/n do?” oakley asked himself as you listened.

as soon as he came up with the idea, he shared it in front of everyone, “if i were you for a day, i think i would head down to the studio and try to make music.”

“smart,” you recall, “i’ve always wanted to make music for a long time, but i think we’re good as a model for now.”

“new date idea,” oakley states, “make music with y/n.”

“that sounds lovely.”

☆ TENTH QUESTION - “WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO EVERYONE RIGHT NOW?”

“this one’s a bit cliche but my thing is live yours,” oakley said, “that’s what’s inspiring innit.”

you agree to his piece of advice, “so basically express yourself?”

“correct.”

-

the tenth questioned marked the end of the interview and was left with one more scene to record.

the cameras starts recording oakley, “if you want to see me ask y/n these questions face to face, go to vogue.com.”

“thank you to gq for being involved in this conversation between central cee and i. thank you for watching!” you waved to the camera. the video cues to a white screen, placing the names of the people involved.

after the interview, oakley waited for you to exit the studio. when you saw him, you gave him a tight hug. “you were amazing!”

“thank you!” oakley smiled, “you know what sounds more amazing? bringing you to the studio right now.”

“you and your bad flirting skills,” you sarcastically rolled your eyes at him, “but a studio date sounds nice right now.”

[https-florals]

Hi! Your request are silly open right? If so would you mind writing something along the lines of JJ and the reader have been dating for a bit and JJ keeps like complimenting or praising the reader and the reader can’t help but blush/get turned on and JJ notices she has a praise kink so he teases her with it a little more, especially if n front of their friends until he finally used it like in bed with her?

sweet talk - j.m.

word count: 2.5k

summary: jj finds out a very valuable piece of information about you.

warnings: SMUTTT under the cut, 18+!! lotta praise, slight dumbification but just a tiny bit, jj being sexy per usual, public fooling around kinda but not really, not canon because i like to pretend the chateau is still with us LMAO

a/n: okay obviously i became OBSESSED with this idea when i first read this ask!! started as a little blurb but grew to this monstrosity lol. thank you for the ask!!! i love you all so so much 🫶🏻

Even though you and JJ have been together for about a month, you’re still pretty shy. You’re still shy in public, shy when he kisses you, even more shy in bed. Your boyfriend would give you the world if he could, do anything to get inside that pretty little head of yours and see what you’re thinking. You’re becoming a little more relaxed around his friends, which he’s grateful for.

Tonight, everyone is sitting around the fire pit outside the Cháteau. It's a pretty summer night, with fireflies darting around and stars peeking through the clouds.

You’re perched on J’s lap, John B and Sarah in a similar position next to you. Kie and Cleo are doing a shotgunning contest, and Pope is actually chill for once, a blunt in his hand.

You’re roasting a marshmallow over the fire, laughing with Sarah about a new sitcom episode, when JJ taps your arm.

“Will you make me a s’more?” he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout, and you roll your eyes.

“Can’t you make yourself one?” you tease, but still slide a graham cracker out of the box and a mini hershey’s.

“Tastes better when you make it, though.” He’s not wrong, you make a mean s’more. When you go to hand it to him, he just opens his mouth.

Your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops, but your lips still curl into a smile. “Fine.” You adjust so you’re facing him a bit better, and hold the s’more as he takes a bite. JJ’s blues don’t leave yours as he takes a bite, and you kick yourself mentally as he groans out of satisfaction. This shouldn’t be this attractive, after all, it’s a s’more. That's like, the least sexy food ever, you tell yourself. Now a slice of juicy watermelon, you could get behind. But right now, you’re just being ridiculous.

You’re snapped back to reality when he swallows and exhales, hand squeezing your thigh. “Atta girl. Was a damn good s’more.”

Your cheeks go fire hot.

“Dear god, this is not the place for foreplay!” John B groans.

You clap your hand over the lower half of your face as Sarah starts to laugh.

JJ throws a beer can at him. “Man, Sarah's been grinding on you for the past half hour and I haven't said shit. Are you not in like, massive amounts of pain?”

It's John B's turn to blush, and he looks down at the ground quickly when Sarah snorts, pressing her lips together in an effort not to laugh.

“Are we being too…” you’re struggling to think of the word as you whisper to your boyfriend- “Pda-ish?” Surely not, because he had a point about John B and Sarah. They’re all over each other all the time, and you should be able to do the same.

“No, no!” JJ’s eyes are wide as if you told him that you were thinking about shaving your eyebrows off. “You’re doing perfect, baby.” His hands rub up the sides of your arms, and you smile, all bashful.

Butterflies fill your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

“Absolutely perfect,” he repeats, and before you even realize it you’re subconsciously squeezing your thighs together.

As soon as you do it, you hope he doesn’t notice, but his lips curl into a little smirk after the realization hits.

You hop up quickly, and wipe your sticky marshmallow fingers on your shorts. “I'm gonna go get a blanket! I’m a little chilly!” you chirp, and nearly sprint into the house.

Gears are turning in JJ's head. He’s chuckling as he sips his beer, so much to the point that Sarah gives him a weird look.

“What are you cracking up about?” she asks, watching the blond boy grin and shake his head.

“I just learned something very interesting about my girlfriend, Sarah.”

You come out of the house a few minutes later, and Kie has pulled out her ukulele. They’re all singing along to the Bob Marley song she’s playing, and JJ pats his thigh, an invitation for you to come back and sit on his lap. Tentatively, you take your spot, draping the blanket over the both of you. Under the fabric, your fingers shift over the frayed hem of JJ’s cargo shorts. His callused hand curls around yours, and he threads your fingers together.

You relax at his touch, and start to sing along with the rest of your friends. JJ lightly pulls on one of thin braids scattered through your messy hair, each one with a different colored thread running through it- courtesy of Kiara and Sarah. It’s nothing you’re not used to, and you turn your head a bit more toward him and frown. “What?”

“You just sound so pretty.” His voice is low, and it rumbles in your eardrum like thunder. You just know your cheeks are going pink again, and you try to fight the rising need you feel.

“My sweet, pretty girl.”

That’s it. You probably look like a tomato. You chew your bottom lip as you smile, and suppress the urge to kiss him right then and there.

JJ grins, and that’s when it hits you that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Damn, why are you all red?” Kie laughs as she hits a chord on her uke, and naturally everyone turns to look at you.

“JJ, what are you saying to that poor girl?” Sarah fake pouts and shakes her head at him like she’s scolding a puppy.

You cover your mouth, flushing even more with embarrassment.

“We’ve been goin’ on a little journey of self-discovery over here,” he answers, face all smug as his hand shifts to the top of your thigh under the blanket. His thumb just skims over the crotch of your shorts, so thin that you just know he can feel through them. Feel how wet you’re getting.

Your guess is spot on, cause his eyes widen and he does that thing where he sticks his tongue in his cheek and laughs. “Finding new things out about each other,” he continues, not breaking eyecontact with you.

“Is that a fancy way to say harassing her?” Cleo pipes in, snorting before she says, “You’re a bad, bad man, Maybank.”

He shrugs, all cocky.

Luckily, conversation carries away from the two of you, but his hand is still against your pussy. Thank God for that damn blanket. His fingers are idly running over the fabric, and it’s driving you insane.

“We need to go,” you whisper to him, uncomfortable with the burning between your thighs.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Do we?” You’re usually not the one dragging him away from social functions- that’s more JJ’s style.

You nod fervently, rocking back and forth on his thigh and trying to make it unnoticeable.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you know it’s rude to demand things,” he says back to you lowly, and you’re silently rejoicing that no one is paying attention to the two of you.

You swallow, and take a deep breath. “Please, JJ, can we leave?”

“There you go,” he sighs, and he helps push you up off him.

After a shit ton of teasing from the Pogues, you’re finally able to slip away. You’re barely through the door of your apartment when JJ jumps you, kissing you hard and running his hands up and down your sides, over your ass, and coming to rest just under the waistband of your shorts.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a praise kink?” he asks point-blank, against your lips as you’re fumbling with his belt.

“I don’t,” you gasp out, finally pulling it through the loops and throwing it down.

“Bullshit, baby.” JJ finally gets your shorts down, and his hand just ghosts over your underwear. “Tell me the truth.”

“Fuck, J,” you whine, pushing his shorts down and trying to shove your hand down his underwear, but he jumps back, leaving you devoid of his touch.

You huff like a child preparing to throw a tantrum.

“C’mon. Tell the truth.”

“I didn’t know I had one, JJ,” you cry, just wanting to feel him. You swallow, and follow up with, “Not until you.”

You can basically see his head get bigger as he grins, and finally puts his hands back on you. “All I wanted to know, sweet thing,” he laughs before he kisses you again, tongue slipping between your teeth. He tastes like beer and a little bit of marshmallow, and he smells like bonfire smoke.

He pulls away from you just long enough for you to both throw off your shirts, and then he’s picking you up and carrying you into your bedroom. JJ sets you on the bed all gentle, a startling contrast to the way he’s kissing you and touching you, the way he yanks your panties off and slides a finger between your folds. “Fucking finally,” he groans, nudging himself inbetween your legs. “Wider.”

You fall open for him, and he braces your hip with one hand. “Atta girl,” he says, and he slides two fingers in, slow and steady as he leans over you to trail kisses down your neck. You grind against his palm as he sucks a spot on your neck, your back arching and hips bucking. You watch his hand slide into his boxers, watch the movement of his hand slide over his cock.

JJ notices how enraptured you are, and he removes his fingers from you, a little shocked when you don’t make much of a fuss. “You wanna do something for me, pretty?”

That’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, thighs pressed together as he pulls his dick out, and you’re absolutely bewitched. You sit back on your heels and look up at JJ, a perfect little picture of innocence with your eyes all wide… and then you open your mouth.

It’s fucking pornographic. There’s no way in hell you’re real, JJ thinks, as he curls your hair around his hand and thrusts into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him, and his head falls back. “Good fucking girl.”

He also doesn’t think you’ve ever been this bold for him. But holy shit, he’s not complaining, especially when you gag around the tip of his cock. Your mascara is smudging beneath your eyes, lips swollen and looking so pretty wrapped around him.

You’re squirming, and JJ can feel the vibration of all the little sounds you’re making as you suck him off.

“Go on and touch yourself,” he gasps out as he hits the back of your throat.

However, as soon as you moan around him, JJ knows he won’t last long, and he wants too badly to come inside you to let himself get any closer. He’s pulling out quick, ignoring your cries as he pulls you up and pushes you onto the mattress.

On your knees, you fall facefirst into your pillow. JJ smacks your ass once, and is then manhandling you into another position, like he can’t make up his mind. He spots the mirror propped against the wall in your room, and pushes you back on all fours. When you look up, you can see him behind you. You watch as he pushes into you, watch the way his eyes screw shut in concentration, the way his blonde hair sticks to his forehead.

Wriggling, you moan out his name and whine as he sets a steady pace, slow, almost too slow. “JJ…”

“What?”

When you just whimper in response, he shakes his head and stills inside you. “C’mon, darlin’, use your words,” he chides, hands smoothing over your hip.

“Go harder, please,” you’re begging, pushing yourself against him.

“There ya go,” he grunts, speeding up, pushing into you hard and deep. He smacks your ass, once, twice, relishing in the little cry you let out each time. He pulls you up against him, chest to your back, hand against your throat as he makes sure you’re looking in the mirror. Makes sure you’re watching him slide in and out of you. “Look at how good you’re taking me,” he groans, hand moving to your clit when he’s sure you won’t look away. “Go on, keep looking for me. Look at how pretty you look, babydoll. All fucked out, and your mascara is even running,” He laughs, and you clench around him at the sound, the burning in your lower stomach becoming almost unbearable. You shake your head, unable to get any words but JJ knows what you need.

He lets you back down slow, propped up on your elbows as he rams into you. You just know you’re gonna have bruising on your cervix, but that's a problem for later.

His fingers circle your clit purposed and quick, and you feel like you’re about to tip over the edge. The way he shudders inside you lets you know he’s not too far behind you.

“J, S’close. M’gonna-”

“Hold it,” he says, tone a little mean as he picks up his pace. He wants to fall apart with you.

Just when you think you can’t hold on anymore, can’t reign it in, he twitches hard. “Now, baby. Come on, all over my cock, pretty-” He cuts himself off by his own moan, spewing into you as your cunt spasms around him. “Good girl,” he repeats as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, over and over. “My good fucking girl.”

JJ is still murmuring it when he collapses next to you, kissing your forehead. “So perfect for me,” he says all soft with a smile and another kiss to your temple, a complete contrast to the low growl in his voice moments before. “Gonna clean you up real good,” he chirps before hopping off the bed and into the bathroom. You giggle as you watch him walk away, forever finding your boyfriend’s bare ass a little funny.

JJ comes back with a damp, warm towel and two glasses of sweet tea, and he gives one to you after he helps you move and sit back against the headboard. He pulls the old sex wax tshirt out of his drawer and puts it on you, then nestles himself between your legs to clean you up. You wince as he swipes the towel over your pussy, and he shushes you and puts a hand on the back of your calf, soft and comforting. “Did so good for me, honey,” he says again, kissing your forehead for what seems the hundredth time, and pulls the covers up over you both.

When you curl into him, tiredness hits you like a truck, and it seems to do the same for him as he yawns, and leans over to turn off the lamp.

“JJ?” you ask, quietly.

“Yeah?”

“So maybe you’re right. About me having a praise kink.”

He laughs, and pulls you a bit closer to him. “Yeah, no shit!”

You frown. “What? Was it that bad?”

“Damn, baby, if I woulda known you’d act like that if I talked all sweet to you, I woulda done it a long, long time ago.”

thank you for reading!! likes, comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on remadora?

thank you very much for the asks, anons!

while they are by no means my otp, i really enjoy remadora as pairing - and i think they’re fully up there among the canon couples in terms of being an amazing vehicle through which to explore all sorts of questions about life and love - which i am aware is a sufficiently controversial statement that it involves an immediate engagement with some discourse…

because remadora girlies [gender neutral] get an enormous amount of shit within the fandom, particularly from fans who consider wolfstar to be a more plausible pairing for lupin than tonks. i have seen remadora shippers called homophobes for simply enjoying the couple, justified with the bizarre idea that it disrespects remus' relationship with sirius [so... the non-canon one?] to put them together. i have seen tonks turned into a pathetic shrew who is trying to keep remus from the real love of his life by trapping him with an unwanted baby. i have seen remadora shippers get a lot of the usual stuff that people who prefer the canon-endgame couples do [that to ship a canon pair is boring, that it is indicative of a lack of talent, that it indicates an uncritical support for jkr] magnified to eleven because tonks has the temerity to be a barrier to remus’ relationship with the fandom’s favourite hot and brooding man.

obviously, this is bullshit - primarily because its unreasonable and cruel to invest so much time and energy being mean to people because of their harry potter shipping preferences [fandom should never be that deep].

but it’s also a disappointment to me personally because it means that it can be very hard to find the sort of remadora i like without looking like i’m coming to contribute to the pile-on. because where many remadora fans and i don’t see eye-to-eye is that i have absolutely no interest in thinking about them as a relationship which is actually functional. and, all too often, i find myself sifting through fics which do prefer to interpret them like this - as romantic and passionate and stable - largely, i think it’s fair to say, as a defensive move against the tide of “urgh, imagine shipping that” nonsense - even though all the evidence of canon is that they are… very much not.

i am aware of the pottermore article which smoothes the edges of lupin’s canonical reaction to tonks’ feelings for him in half-blood prince - but, while i read this as something of a retcon to make the relationship more palatable, i also don’t think that assuming that both tonks and lupin’s attraction to each other was sincere precludes them being as dysfunctional as they canonically are. i don’t go in for the common anti-remadora argument that tonks “forces” him into a relationship with her - it’s clear in half-blood prince that it’s not only her who has discussed her feelings with molly and arthur weasley, lupin is definitely flirting with her when they pick harry up in order of the phoenix, lupin is an adult man [no matter other power imbalances between him and tonks - such as the fact that she is an agent of the state which oppresses him] who possesses the capacity to refuse her advances, and - since teddy’s conception is not immaculate - he has no issue with enjoying a sexual relationship with her even if he then wants to run away from the product of that.

instead, what i like with remadora is that they reveal something which goes against the grain of the rest of the series: that love is not always enough. throughout the seven-book canon, we see time and time again the idea that love - and, crucially, love-as-noble-suffering and love-as-sacrifice - is enough to overcome any problem. entire civil service collaborating with a terrorist regime? don’t trouble yourself, love has won. your mother dying in childbirth leaving you to be neglected in a state institution? your own fault you’re not interested in love.

i understand the genre reasons for this, but i also love the way in which lupin especially exists on the margins of these genre conventions [just as he exists on the margins of wizarding society!]. i’m always struck in deathly hallows that he’s the only person who’s actually realistic about the demands of war - particularly when he tells harry that it is breathtakingly naive for him to think he can get through the fighting without having to shoot to kill - and that part of him having to be shuffled out of the way when harry tells him to return to the pregnant tonks is because, were the story focused on realism, the idea of a wanted man who is considered an unhuman by the state fleeing in order to guarantee the safety of his wife and unborn child becomes eminently reasonable and harry's defense of the nuclear family embarrassingly unradical.

and so i like the idea of lupin seeing tonks - and tonks seeing lupin - initially as just a bit of fun, as the two of them being just two chill single people who think the other is hot and interesting and want to bang because of it.

[which is something fandoms in general really struggle with as a concept. we like epic love stories - and you won't find me objecting to that! - but we're less good at thinking about casual sexual attraction or transient friendships, and how these can be transformative and meaningful without having to end up going any sort of distance.]

and i then like the idea of the relationship being forced into a profundity it doesn’t really have the juice to sustain by the sheer avalanche of grief which besets the two of them - sirius, dumbledore, mad-eye, ted - and by the pressure of the war and the fact that the order is scrambling and the hangover of remus' self-destruction in half-blood prince which makes each cling to the other as a life-raft. i like remadora as something codependent and messy and strange and sad, and i don’t think this prevents it being sincere and fun and based in mutual attraction, but instead that these positive qualities can exist in conjunction with the fact that, without the war, it would have been a summer of fucking and that was probably it.

on tonks herself, i don’t think i can say it better than @evesaintyves in this meta on her character. i’ve been really uncomfortable with quite a lot of stuff i’ve seen recently which has taken against the idea that tonks can be meaningfully read as queer on the basis of what we find in the text, above all because it so often comes with the implication that one cannot imagine her in her canon endgame pairing and presume that she’s something other than straight or cisgender. eve sets out an excellent case for tonks as bolshy and liberated and in tune with herself and fun and confused and in flux and still figuring stuff out about who she is and where she’s going - and this translates, may i say, to an astonishingly beautiful way of writing her, lupin, and the dysfunction inherent between them which i highly recommend you read.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Tongue Piercing- Legolas x Alternative!Reader

Summary: Legolas is very interested in readers tongue piercing. They show him what it feels like

Word Count: 1, 262

The portraits that adorned the walls of the Mirkwood library could only be described as perfection. Legolas had wanted to show you all of his home, and had spent the past few hours walking with you and talking about its history and beauties.

As you walk along, viewing the regal art, you discover one that looks like your elvish tour guide.

“Legolas is this one you?” You ask smirking at the handsome elf.

“Um well, yes, yes that’s me. I didn’t have many portraits as a child, so last spring my father wanted a more important looking portrait done of me.” He explains bashfully.

Though Legolas was a prince and warrior, he could tend to get quite flustered when his status was mentioned. Legolas was quite a humble prince and he didn’t really like to be fawned over.

Looking up at the large portrait, you couldn’t help but marvel, not just at the quality of the art, but how the painting captured Legolas’ beauty; a beauty that was both strong and sweet. Taking in the art for so long, you began to become so enthralled that you hadn’t noticed you’d been playing with your tongue piercing, flicking it up and down and lightly running it through your mouth.

In your world, piercings weren’t all that odd and people didn’t really think twice or react too amazed at them, but in this world they were an abnormality. Being so used to your piercings normality, you were confused to hear Legolas’ light gasp beside you. Turning your head from the portrait, you look over to see Legolas’ eyes wide in both wonder and concern.

“Legolas, what’s the matter?” You turn to your new friend, concern now etched into your face as you lightly take his hand and shoulder.

Looking into his eyes and seeing his own flicking down to your lips, you began to understand. Seeing his worried expression about something you considered so mundane, you couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“It’s my piercing isn’t it?” You smirk up at him.

“Yes, well, you, you have many piercings on your face but-I-I was unaware of your tongue. I mean your face is pierced and your tongue is um…” Legolas began to ramble, obviously not quite sure what to say, his flustered state making you laugh again.

“Legolas, it’s okay. It’s a tongue piercing. I have piercings on my face and tongue because they’re jewellery that I like the style of. I know it’s not common here so I understand your worry. Where I’m from they’re quite common.” You explain calmly to him, both of your hands now soothingly intertwined with his.

“May, may I ask you a question?” He says timidly, his eyes meeting yours shyly.

“Of course, Legolas. You don’t have to worry about offending me.” You reassure him with a sweet smile and a squeeze of his hands.

“Well, how, how does it feel?” He quietly asked.

“To have done or how does it feel in my mouth?” You genuinely asked.

“Bo-both I suppose.”

“Well it obviously hurts because it’s something being stabbed through my flesh,” you laugh jokingly, “but the pain was relatively quick and the healing wasn’t too bad.” You reassured your new friend.

“A-and in your mouth? I mean um..” he awkwardly questioned.

With the cute blush that now covered his cheeks and his awkward wording, you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered state.

Since the moment you laid eyes on Legolas, you found him extremely attractive. As you got to know him, you found yourself craving the way he blushed and the friendly touches you gave each other. You hadn’t really done anything to properly flirt with him yet, but the way he was blushing and staring at your mouth, you couldn’t help but take up the opportunity to play with the sweet prince.

“Would you like to feel?” You asked him, your voice now dropping seductively as you moved slightly closer to him, your chests now almost touching.

“Ye- I mean if yo- you’re comf..”

Cutting him off, you take one of his fingers in your hand as you bring it to your open mouth. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you begin to swirl his long finger along your tongue. He can’t help but stare at you with desperate eyes, as if begging for something more but not knowing fully what he needs.

Seeing that Legolas was definitely into the little game you were playing, you decide to close your mouth around his finger and suck up and down, putting on a provocative show for the young prince. Legolas can’t help but let his eyes flutter slightly and moan at the show before him.

Releasing his finger with an exaggerated pop, Legolas lets out a quiet breathy moan. Smirking and biting your lip at the prince, you place his hand on your waist as you lean in close to his ear.

“Would you like to know how it feels against other things, Legolas?” You whisper seductively, your tongue coming out to lick along his neck, as your hand lightly strokes his hardening bulge.

“Mmm, y/n, pl-please.” He pathetically moaned out, head dropping back slightly.

“Please what, Legolas? What do you need, sweet prince?” You continue to tease him, your pierced tongue making its way up his neck and over his jaw.

“I-I- I need to feel you! Please make me feel good.” His moans growing louder as you rubbed his bulge faster.

“What a good boy.” You smirk against his neck.

Grabbing onto the back of his head you crash your mouth against his in a heated kiss. As your tongue slipped into his mouth and began exploring his, he gasped out at feeling the cool metal in his mouth. Continuing your heated assault on his mouth, your hand begins to pull down his trousers, his cock springing free and bobbing.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his as you begin to stroke his hard cock. Your light strokes cause him to let out a whining moan, loving the feeling of your touch but needing more. Smirking and staring into his desperate eyes, you push him against the wall and drop to your knees in front of him.

Continuing to rub his length, you lick up the underside of his tip, making sure to dig your piercing into the sensitive skin. The delicious sensation causing his eyes to close and his head to lightly thud against the wall.

“You ready, Legolas?” You ask him, staring up at him sweetly.

“Please…” he begs sweetly, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

Smirking up at him, you lick the underside of his cock once again, before taking his whole head in your mouth. Starting to suck lightly, you begin to work him further into your mouth. The sweet moans and gasps from the elf prince above you sounded like heaven, and it only made you work faster with your hand and lick and stuck him harder.

It didn’t take long of your talented and studded tongue working Legolas before he started to lightly grind into your mouth, whimpering how good it felt and how close he was. With a sweet and breathy moan, Legolas released into your mouth. Tasting him on your tongue, you swallowed everything he gave you. Taking him out of your mouth, saliva and a small amount of cum on your lips, you smirk up at him as you give him one last little lick with your stud on his head, a small last little whimper leaving his sweet parted lips.

[hyunsvngs]

you and your boyfriend jisung are no strangers to adventurous sex, be it trying and switching between different dom/sub roles, exploring kinks with each other, roleplaying, using toys on either, or watching porn together. but, for the first time, his newest idea left you pretty shocked.

you both are a little tipsy after deciding to crack open the bottle of whiskey that’s been sitting in your kitchen, which is probably why he felt comfortable in suggesting this to you to begin with. you look at him, eyes wide, mouth open slightly, trying to replay his words in your head to make sure you heard him right. he looks at you awaiting your answer, hopeful but nervous. “so… you want to just… watch?” you ask him, still unsure if you’re imagining things. “y-yeah. i think- i think it’d be really hot…”

you can’t say that you haven’t thought about how attractive minho is. he’s very obviously a beautiful man with his starry, cat-like eyes that feel like they’re piercing right through you, his strong arms and the veins that protrude in his hands and forearms, his thighs that are all muscle, and his stupid fucking cunning personality that makes you feel a little weak in the knees when he decides to tease you, even though it’s in a friendly way. you recognize all of these things, annoyingly, but you love jisung more than anything in the entire world and would never make any move that would hurt him, especially flirting with his best friend.

so when he suggested watching you and minho having sex, you felt a mixture of emotions. confused, horny, anxious, horny, worried, horny and… oh, horny. “i dunno, i think it would be so sexy to watch you feel good and…” he looks down and away a little, embarrassed at his next words “i think you two would look so pretty together,” in a voice so quiet you barely heard the last part. “i- are you sure?” you ask, still dumbfounded. “yes, i’ve thought about it for awhile already” he looks back at you shyly and you search his eyes for confirmation. “if you’re sure you’re okay with this, i think it could be fun, but if y-“ his eyes full with excitement and relief before he cuts you off with a deep kiss, moving to lay you back on your couch and crawling on top of you.

after some sober discussions and jisung talking to minho privately, ensuring that he is also into the idea, you find yourself on your knees on the bed, minho behind you, thrusting his hard cock into and holding your arms behind you for leverage while you moan and whimper, looking at jisung when you find the strength to open your eyes. he’s sitting just at the end of the bed, palming his erection through his sweatpants while watching your face contort with pleasure. you want to focus on him more but you feel your brain melting in your skull with every thrust of minho’s very skilled hips. “tell him how good it feels, kitty.” minho growls while moving one hand from your arm into your hair, pulling lightly which rips another moan from your throat as he continues you push into you roughly. “i-it feels so good, sungie. he’s fucking me so good i can hardly think straight.” jisung groans as he palms himself harder “yeah, baby? he’s fucking you so good you can hardly keep your pretty eyes open?” he moves to put his hand into his sweats, searching for some relief to his aching, leaking cock.

minho pulls out and you whine in protest, but before you can formally complain, he flips you over onto your back, settles your knees on his shoulders, and buries himself back inside of you before grabbing your hips with both hands, resuming his rough pace. you can’t hold back the series of moans that are elicited by the new angle. “fuuuuck that feels fucking amazing, holy shit.” your toes are curling and you hands search for something to hold onto before settling for grabbing the bedsheets. you feel weight shifting above your head on the bed before hearing jisung’s voice right next to your ear in nearly a whisper “oh, my baby, you’re feeling so good. you’re gonna cum soon, aren’t you?” “ye-yeah, yes… i’m gonna cum so good, baby” you whine in response. jisung’s hands move to snake over you body, abandoning his poor cock, unrelieved and still trapped in his pants. his hands find your breasts and he begins alternating between kneading them and playing with your erect nipples. his lips find fond your neck and he peppers it with kisses before lightly sliding his tongue across the smooth skin and sucking gently on the part that he knows is sensitive. minho’s unrelenting pace coupled with the attention that your beloved boyfriend is now paying to you body has you falling apart in seconds, your high causing your body to feel white hot and your vision yo go fuzzy. minho fucks you through your high and follows with his own soon after, pulling out and spilling his cum onto your stomach.

your eyes close as you come down, jisung rubbing your arma soothingly and trailing light kisses over your cheeks and forehead. minho moves to grab a towel and cleans his seed off of your body gently. “was all of that okay?” minho asks, eyes flicking back and forth between you and jisung. “it was incredible.” you assure him. “so fucking hot. i was right by the way. you two are so fucking pretty together.” jisunng groans. “we uh- we could do this again sometime… if you guys are up for it.” minho blurts out, sounding unsure if this is too close to crossing a line. “oh this is definitely happening again” jisung responds quickly (maybe too quickly?) before giving you one last big kiss on the cheek.

ANON WHO ARE U…. U R A BEAUTKFJL MYSTERY

im just posting some of the longer asks in my inbox to tide u guys over til i feel better <3 on that note its juno passing out for a nap time

[hrh-prince-butt]

alex and henry plan to dress up as barbie and ken for an upcoming costume party, but they can't seem to agree on who should be barbie and who should be ken...

(hello this is possibly the dumbest thing i've ever written, and i have no regrets, it was so much fun to write)

-

“You can’t deny the Kenergy, babe.” 

“You’re right,” Henry shoots back. “I can’t. And if anyone has it, it’s you.” 

Alex crosses his arms and glares stubbornly at Henry. Henry glares right back, just as goddamn stubborn. Looks like they’re in a stalemate. 

There was no argument that they absolutely had to dress up as Barbie and Ken for their couples costume this year. It had practically been telepathically agreed upon before they even left the cinema. Apparently, the hard part is agreeing on who should dress up as who.

Alex had thought it was obvious that he should be Barbie. But when he brought up speculations about his costume - should he copy an outfit from the movie or figure out something of his own? - Henry had frowned and said he thought he was supposed to be Barbie. 

“Just face it, sweetheart,” Alex says, patting Henry on the shoulder. “You are clearly the Ken to my Barbie.” 

Henry huffs. “How am I the Ken to your Barbie?”

“Well.” Alex leans back on the couch and gestures to himself. “I’m the successful career person, and you are my hot blond accessory. Obviously.” 

“Unbelievable,” Henry says. He sounds genuinely offended. “David, are you hearing this?” David the Beagle lifts his head lazily at the sound of his name, but finding no imminent threat and no promise of treats, he goes back to napping on the couch. 

“All this time,” Henry goes on, and Alex can tell he’s really amping up the theatrics now, probably working up to a dramatic monologue of some kind. “I thought you liked me because of my intelligence, my wit. I thought I was more than just a pretty face, but no. Apparently I’m just some attractive himbo boytoy to you. Utterly unbelievable.” 

He punctuates this absolute scene with a very undramatic bite of chocolate chip cookie. This batch is his third attempt, and Alex has to admit they aren’t terrible. They are overbaked and therefore rock hard - Henry’s annoyed chewing can probably be heard halfway down the street - but they’re already miles better than the last batch. Alex thinks it best not to speak of the last batch.  

“I can’t believe you just called yourself a ‘himbo boytoy’.” Alex is wheezing with laughter, and Henry’s stubborn chewing, his failing attempt to look dramatically offended while crunching on a cookie the texture of a brick, only makes it harder to stop laughing. “Those are your words, not mine.” 

He deigns not to mention that while he has been busy with important law shit all week, Henry has been busy baking cookies. And being really bad at it. That’s definitely Kenergy. 

Henry sighs and washes down the remains of the tragic cookie with tea. “You’re not seeing my vision, love. You would really make an excellent Ken. And I would make an excellent Barbie.” 

“Damn,” Alex says. “We must already be in Barbie’s Dreamhouse because… uh. Keep dreaming.” 

“That… was a truly terrible comeback.” 

Alex sighs. “Yeah. They can’t all be winners.” 

Henry nods gravely. “I’d say this proves my point. You’re Ken, and I’m Barbie.”

It most definitely does not prove anything. “If you’re Barbie,” Alex says, “then you’re definitely Depression Barbie watching the Pride & Prejudice movie like a million times.” 

Henry apparently doesn’t have a response to that except indignant spluttering. Alex laughs so hard he wakes up David. He almost falls off the couch laughing when Henry responds with: “How dare you, I am clearly Irrepressible Thoughts of Death Barbie!” 

Then they’re both laughing, while David watches them in utter confusion. 

“Alright,” Alex says once he has calmed down. “Fair enough. But we can’t both be Barbie!”

“Why not, though?” Henry counters. 

“It’s a couples costume!”

“Well,” Henry says. “Two Barbies can love each other! It’s the 21st century!” 

Alex tries to sigh but it comes out as more laughter. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Gay rights for Barbie or whatever. But two Barbies won’t be as recognizable as a couples costume. People will just think we’re two people who independently decided to dress up as Barbie!” 

“Alright.” Henry picks up his phone. “I’m settling this once and for all.” 

“What? Who are you calling?”

That question is quickly answered. The dial tone only rings twice before the call goes through, and Pez’s voice fills the living room. “Well, if it isn’t my second favourite disgraced royal. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Henry wastes no time on niceties. “Pez. Out of Alex and me, who is Barbie and who’s Ken?”

Pez doesn’t even take a moment to consider it. He just says, “Darling, you’re definitely Ken.” 

Ha! Told you, Alex mouths, his face lighting up in a vindictive grin. 

“That is the wrong answer,” Henry tells Pez, whose laughter comes out a little tinny through the phone speakers. 

“Oh come on, you know I’m right,” Pez says. “Or perhaps I just really want to see your boyfriend's magnificent arse in that Barbie-pink pantsuit. You know, the one Margot Robbie wears in the film?” 

More indignant spluttering from Henry. “Pez, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh good, I hoped I was,” Pez replies. “Hello, Alex! I look forward to seeing your Barbie costume. Do come to me if you need help putting it together. Toodles!"

And then he hangs up. Henry glares at the screen like he can magically will Pez to come back and take his side this time. 

“Well, you heard him,” Alex says, not even trying to hide his laughter. 

Henry huffs and shoves the phone back in his pocket. “Well, who made him the expert, anyway?”

“Pretty sure you did, when you called to get his opinion. To, you know-” Alex clears his throat and puts on his best Henry impression- “settle this, once and for all.” 

Presumably at a loss for words, Henry picks up another cookie and, with considerable effort, bites into it. There’s nothing more to say, anyway. They both know Alex has won. 

“Besides,” Alex says, holding up his phone to show Henry the transaction on the screen. “I already ordered the “I am Kenough” hoodie in your size, sweetheart.”

[tallyica]

ok i have such a good request for you ml

i’m thinking maybe teenage james and he’s not very popular at school so sorta gets made fun of and reader is like a really popular girl on cheer and stuff so obviously she’s dating a jock and he james secretly likes her or something. Anyway i thought maybe reader and her jerk bf breakup ON prom night and James sees when he’s standing near the snack table and he really wants to do something and nervously asks her to be his prom date (even though they’re already there, idk)

i have faith in you wowza (please ignore how disgustingly horrid i wrote that out)

hihi!

maya omg ily sm this is sooooooo good you're so getting it tonight

also this pic gives off a lot of teen vibes so I thought it was rly cute and fitiing

uhhh idk what to make the readers name so its just ___

word count: 5,446

warnings: extremely toxic/abusive relationship, people get slapped twice, swearing, fluff, fighting, angsty start, happy ending

OPPOSITES ATTRACT (1980)

It seemed like I had a picture-perfect high school life, I was popular, on the cheer team, I had straight A’s, and my boyfriend was a football jock, which was every girl's dream it seemed. People at school adored me, I had beauty and brains. Though, I couldn't shake the feeling of unfamiliar eyes on me sometimes, watching me, but not in a creepy way.

The last few days have been full of excitement, as tomorrow was finally prom night, everyone had their prom dates, dresses, or suits, all of us ready for the festivities tomorrow night would bring. I was walking down the hall with my best friend Tammy, we had known each other for years and did cheer together. We were giggling and chatting when I heard a familiar voice, mixed with others and cruel laughter. It was none other than my boyfriend Darren. Tammy gave me a glance of confusion, and I just told her to shoo and let me deal with this, and she did, walking away. I quickly looked to see who he and his asshole friends were laughing at, and I saw a boy sitting on the floor, his long, curly blonde hair draping over his back and shoulders, a hurt expression on his face, watching as Darren went on to laugh and ridicule him before kicking him. I was not pleased with the sight, and I quickly approached the situation.

The boy was familiar, a past player of the football team. I didn't know his name, but I had seen him around school a lot, we had some classes together. I walked over to Darren, pushing him away from the group and the other on the floor, “What the hell are you doing?!” I asked, worried about the state of the familiar yet unknown man, searching Darren's face for any signs of regret.

“I'm putting that loser in his place, don't tell me you think he's more than that, he quit the team!” Darren yelled back at me, trying to convince me to forget about this.

I shook my head, “That doesn't mean you have to be a jerk to him!” I responded back, going to help the blonde boy off the floor, offering my hand, and he took it as he stood up.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you? If he did I'm-” I was quickly cut off by him.

“No, I'm fine, thank you..” He responded quickly, brushing off his well-worn jeans as I scanned over his face.

“Are you sure? I'm so sorry, Darren can be a real jerk sometimes.” I added, still watching him as his eyes finally met mine. This time, they felt familiar, though in an unfamiliar way. Could he have been the one watching me?

He nodded, “Yeah, I'm fine, I promise,” He smiled at me slightly, which made me feel a little bit better. “I'm James, by the way.” James introduced himself to me.

I nodded with a small smile, “I'm ___. It's nice to meet you, James.”

Of course, I couldn't get even a simple conversation in without Darren pulling me away, grabbing me by my arm, and dragging me away like a child. I looked back at James, giving him a small wave and he did as well.

Once Darren pulled us away from the crowd and around the corner, he quickly shoved me against a locker, holding me by my shoulders.

“You think you can just talk to other guys like that? Especially shitheads like him?” He scolded me through gritted teeth.

I always hated it when he got like this, it scared me so much. “No, no, I- I'm sorry, I won't do it again,” I barely mumbled in my shaky tone.

He slapped me across the face, causing me to wince in pain and cover the impacted area, the sting growing with each second, and I could feel tears pricking my eyes.

“You better keep that promise, or else you'll be bruised way worse next time.” He threatened, pushing me back against the locker again before storming off, leaving me there as I began to cry, my mascara starting to run as I quickly headed to the bathrooms so I could hide. No one could see me, not like this. I'm considered the queen of the school, and the queen doesn't cry, right?

I quickly scurried into a stall, locking the door as I heard other students enter the bathroom. I quickly grabbed toilet paper to wipe my eyes, trying to clean up the mess I had become, trying to stop the tears that just kept coming. I covered my mouth, hearing the mumbled words of the other girls in the bathroom, waiting for them to finally leave to clean myself up.

I didn't want to go to prom anymore, not with Darren. I thought back to James, he seemed so sweet, and he was cute too. But unless I wanted to be hurt again, I wouldn't be able to speak with him, which disappointed me slightly, as he seemed like a nice guy.

As I heard the girls leave the bathroom, I quickly came out of the stall, looking at my messy face in the mirror, using water to rinse off my eyes and remove the mascara stains. I could also notice the growing red mark on my cheek, making me frown that it would be obvious, and possibly even appear tomorrow night.

Luckily, I probably wouldn't have to see any more of Darren until cheer practice, since he leaves campus for lunch. He normally watches me at practice, or at least I think he's watching me. I finished cleaning myself up, walking out of the bathroom as I wiped the last of my tears away, and headed to the cafeteria to get my lunch, which was a plain, boring salad, a diet suggested by my coach, and one forced by Darren. I don't even know what he sees in me, or what I see in him, but love is a crazy thing I guess.

I grabbed my tray, heading towards the salad bar, grabbing a paper bowl, and scooping some lettuce and tomatoes into it, garnishing it with minimal sauce and other salad additions before looking for somewhere to sit. I normally sat with my friends, and the rest of the cheer squad, searching for Tammy, but I couldn't notice or see her, but I did notice a familiar face sitting at a table, alone in the corner.

It was James. Darren wasn't here, so maybe I could go sit with him and talk, he looked really lonely, though he was always shy anyway. I headed in the direction of his table, all the way in the back, pushed into a corner. 

I approached him, “Mind if I sit with you?” I asked James, who didn't notice me approaching, though he nodded.

“Uh, no, go ahead.” He responded, his voice soft and shy.

James watched as I sat in front of him, picking and mixing my salad before he spoke again.

“That guy, Darren, he didn't seem too happy about you talking to me,” He began, his voice still soft as he spoke.

I shrugged, “Oh, my boyfriend Darren, he's a bit.. Sensitive, I guess. But love works in odd ways, y’know?” I said to assure him, but it seemed it was more to assure myself instead.

James' face changed, maybe disappointment, “Darren is your boyfriend?”

I nodded as I continued to eat, “Yeah, we’ve been together for a couple of months. Do you know him?”

James shrugged with a nod, “Yeah, I was on the football team with him.”

I glanced up at James, “He said you quit the team, why was that?”

“Coach told me to cut my hair or quit the team. I didn't have much choice.” He answered with a small chuckle.

I smiled at his answer, finishing my small salad as James continued to eat his own lunch.

“Are you looking forward to prom tomorrow?” I asked James, expecting a ‘yes’ as it seemed everyone was, but with him, I don't think prom is his biggest dream at the moment.

James just shrugged, “I guess, I wasn't really planning on going, but my friend Ron is, so I'll just go to hang out with him.” He answered, though his voice did not convey a single bit of excitement.

I just nodded, “It'll be fun.” I added, getting up to put my lunch tray away, feeling James' eyes on me as I walked away. After a minute I returned, going back and sitting in front of him, looking to the side briefly, making the faint red handprint on my cheek obvious, and James watchful eyes definitely noticed.

“Hey, what's that on your cheek? Did someone hit you?” James asked, his voice worried.

I felt my stomach drop, quickly covering it up with my hand and shaking my head, “No, no, I just uh.. Fell, earlier.” I muttered quickly, my words obviously untruthful.

James clearly didn't buy it, sitting up straighter and reaching out to moe my hand, his touch gentle and caring.

“You don't get a handprint on your face from falling. Who hit you?” James carefully moved my hand away, gently caressing the slap mark, making me bite back a wince of pain.

“No one, James. I'm fine, it's nothing.” I kept denying the truth.

Even with my continued responses, James wouldn't let up. “___. No one just ends up with a red print on their face, someone hurt you. Who.” This time he demanded that I tell him, but if I did, things would be a lot worse for me, and I didn't want James to get hurt by Darren again.

I shook my head, “James, just drop it.” I sighed, and he slowly pulled his hand away, backing down to where he sat.

“Fine.” He mumbled, letting it go for now, but I could see him continue to think about it.

It was silent between us for a while, until the bell rang and we gave each other a look of goodbye, walking off to our separate classes.

LATER THAT DAY

School had finished for the day, and now I was at cheer practice. The whole day Darren was gone, a bit of a blessing for me, but I also noticed that Tammy was gone too. She probably just didn't feel well and left early, and Darren probably had a party with his friends.

I walked towards the gym where we normally practiced, expecting to see Darren in the bleachers and some of the other girls' boyfriends or siblings.

I entered the gym, hearing the squeak of sneakers on the wooden floor, noticing I was 4 minutes late. I sighed, setting my bag down as I joined the rest of the group, looking for Tammy, but I couldn't see her. Maybe she was just in the bathroom or something, so I walked up to Ashley.

“Ashley, have you seen Tammy?” I asked her, almost worried about my friend's absence.

She just shook her head, “No, not since our last class together. Why?”

I shrugged, “Nothing, thanks.”

I walked away, looking at the bleachers to also see that Darren wasn't there either. It had to be a coincidence, right?

Tammy wouldn't do that to me, we had been friends since middle school. I was probably just overthinking everything. The prom was tomorrow, and that should be what I'm focused on.

Until my coach snapped me out of my haze, grabbing my attention back to practice.

THE NEXT DAY

I awoke with a groan, stirring in my lonesome bed as my alarm clock rang. I slowly sat up, turning off the blaring machine. I sighed, the events of yesterday playing over in my mind, getting up and walking towards the full body mirror in my room, seeing that the mark Darren left had grown to a darker bruise, the faint and warped shape of his hand more obvious. I felt a sadness in my whole body, today was prom, and I'd be a mess all because of him. I looked to my prom dress I was so excited to wear, hanging on a rack, the slightly poofy, flowy baby blue dress, so beautiful, would now never be brought to its full prom night potential. I had spent months working up the money to finally get it, not to mention to heels I would be wearing with it.

I quickly got ready for school, wearing a denim skirt with a light pink sweater, quickly doing my hair, keeping it down, and working on my makeup before I could put on my shoes and head out for school.

As I drove to school, I couldn't help but wonder why Darren and Tammy were absent from cheer and lunch. Darren normally was gone during lunch, but Tammy was normally always there, sitting at the cheer table waiting for me.

And she had never missed one cheer practice, ever. This wasn't like her, but maybe she just felt sick and left early. Eventually, I shook the thoughts out of my head, my mind wandering somewhere more pleasant, James. He was so shy and sweet, though a complete opposite of me.

A guitar-playing metal head in a band, his beautiful long hair almost like a lion's mane, I couldn't help but feel a little attracted to him, even if I was in a relationship with Darren. I hadn't known James long, but he feels closer than that.

After a few more minutes of driving, I arrived at school, parking my car, and walking into the building, firstly headed to my locker, where I saw Darren hanging nearby, seeing him talk to a friend of his as I walked up to him.

“Hey, ‘you excited for prom? We're still going together, right?” I asked with a smile on my face as he broke away from his conversation, shooting me an annoyed glare.

“God, just leave me be, ____. I don't needa hear you bitch to me.” He replied coldly, ignoring my questions.

My smile quickly dropped, sighing and walking away with a frown, heading back towards my locker to grab my stuff, not paying much attention to my surroundings, my shoulder bumped into someone's arm snapping me out of my sad haze. 

“Sorry, I didn-” I glanced up at the person, realizing it was James.

He quickly noticed the bruise on my face, his face changing with worry, “What happened? I want an answer this time. You don't just get a bruise like that from nothing.” James more so demanded rather than asked.

I sighed, shaking my head, “I really shouldn't be talking with you right now,” I muttered, trying to walk away quickly, leaving him hurt and confused as he followed after me, grabbing my arm.

“Hey, where are you going? Why can't you talk to me?”

I grunted, trying to get out of his hold, Darren's threat replaying in my mind. I didn't want to get hurt further, and I really didn't want James to get dragged into this and hurt as well.

“James, I can't talk to you. Leave me alone!” I grumbled, and he let go of my arm, a look of hurt and sadness on his face as he watched me walk away from him. I felt horrible for treating him like that, but I couldn't put either of us at risk.

Even after I stormed off, I could still feel his eyes on my back, heading towards class. It was like he was glued to me, unable to remove himself until I got too far into the crowd where he could no longer see me.

School was slow that day, though the classes and students buzzed with excitement over prom, smiles, and laughs with last-minute prom-posals, though I couldn't get myself to feel excited over the eventful night.

Eventually, it had reached our lunch hour, everyone heading to the cafeteria, seeing the cheer table, where Tammy actually was, and I also saw James, alone again, in the corner.

I had to talk to Tammy for a minute, even though I would've almost preferred to be with James. He looked disappointed, sad in a way, and I knew I was part of it.

I sighed, grabbing my lunch and scurrying towards Tammy and the table of other cheer members, sitting down next to her.

“Where were you yesterday? You were gone all day basically and didn't make it to cheer.” I asked, slightly worried but confused.

She just shrugged it off, “Oh, I just didn't really feel like going. I had other things and people I wanted to do instead.”

Her voice had an undertone to it, I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly, but it was not good. She sounded snarky, and when she said ‘people she wanted to do’ I could tell something was off. I gave her an odd look, eyeing her before something caught my eye.

Hickies, on her neck. It wasn't something usual, she didn't have a boyfriend or crush or something, or at least not one that was known. She gave me a small smirk, noticing my staring.

“What? Is something wrong?” She teased rather than asked, and now everything clicked.

Why Darren was gone all day, why she was gone all day, why Darren disregarded the prom thing, why she is acting so strange.

It seemed that my world crumbled around me, my once perfect social life, shattered in just a day.

I quickly got up, not thinking to grab my food, I had lost any appetite I once had, storming towards the back of the cafeteria. I needed someone to talk to, but there was no one I could air something like this out to. I wasn't thinking much, quickly leaving through the back, but I could feel familiar eyes on me as my own welled up with tears.

James.

I ignored the feeling, running out to the empty hall and outside the school, tears streaming down my face as I wandered towards the empty school courtyard, sitting in the grass as my emotions crashed down on me, everything coming loose in my head, though clicking.

Darren had always been an asshole to me, sure, there were the good moments, but I never felt truly happy with him because he never seemed that happy with me. I loved him, so much, but all that love was now thrown away for my own best friend. He doesn't even know that I know, but I doubt he could care.

I tried wiping my tears off of my face, staining my sleeves black with runny mascara as I heard footsteps approach, glancing up, my puffy eyes meeting James.

He slowed as he came closer, sighing. “I know you want me to leave you alone, but..” He trailed off, watching me as I sniffled, shaking my head.

“No, I don't want you to leave me alone,” I mumbled, and he came closer and sat next to me. 

I looked at him as I sighed, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it, I didn't mean it.”

He shrugged, “Why would you not mean it? I'm a fuckin’ loser and you're, well, you.”

We sat in silence together for a moment, and I sniffled again as I tried to stop my tears.

“What's wrong? Or do you not wanna tell me.” He asked, and I had to tell someone, I had to tell him.

I began to cry more as I explained what happened, Darren hitting me for talking to James, the threats he made, getting cheated on with my best friends, all the toxicity of my relationship with him finally coming to light as I leaned against James, and he held me, gently wrapping his arms around me as I sobbed into his shoulder, hearing every word, cry, and sound I made, careful to listen to me in a time of hurt.

The story seemed to make James upset that that had happened to me, but it also seemed to fuel a fire in him. For the short time he'd known me personally, he seemed to care a lot already.

I eventually stopped mumbling the story as I kept crying, his worn band shirt soaked with my tears as he gently rubbed my side with his hand, his touch making me feel warm, something that Darren never could do.

“Shhhh, you'll be okay, I'm here, alright?” He said to me in a soft voice, trying to comfort me as I kept crying against him.

“You don't need that asshole, you can do so much better than him. And if she was really your friend, she wouldn't have done something so shitty like that.” He kept comforting me, the soothing motions of his hands helping me reach a calm after a good couple more minutes of crying into him, my sobs slowly stopping as I just sat there with him, in his arms.

After a few more minutes of silence, just us together, James spoke up again, “You alright?”

I just shrugged, “I don't know.. Everything just.. Crashing down around me.” I mumbled, snuggling in closer to him, my hand on his shoulder/neck area as I moved my face from his shoulder, laying the side of my face there as I looked up at him, my puffy red eyes, tear-stained and mascara-ruined face, his eyes meeting mine.

We stayed like this for a few moments, our eyes breaking contact for a moment before he spoke up again, “Class is gonna start in a few minutes. Let's go to my car and I can get you cleaned up, alright?”

I nodded, and we got up and walked together to his beat-up truck, grabbing some tissues and an old bottle of water. I sat on the edge of the truck bed, James coming up to me and dampening the tissues with water, wiping my face clean of the stains, his touch gentle and caring, my cheeks heating up slightly.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

School was done for the day, and now I was at home, hastily getting ready for prom.

I curled my hair, making sure I looked as beautiful as possible. I did my makeup, nothing too over the top, though I was careful to night use mascara, feeling that I would probably end things with Darren tonight.

I slipped on my beautiful dress, one that hugged my features well, the poofy skirt of it flowing amazingly, and I had never felt more pretty as I slipped on my heels, admiring my glam self in the mirror with a small smile. I had never felt so gorgeous as I walked to my car, and drove back down to the school.

Darren was supposed to be my prom date, and I'm guessing he still is unless he's changing his mind and going with Tammy. I tried to ignore the thoughts, hoping that James would be there if anything went wrong.

Something about him made everything feel… right, in a way. He made me happy, even though we'd only been friends for two days.

Eventually, I arrived at the school, the parking lot packed, trying to secure a spot so I could get in without being too late.

Soon enough I found a parking space, getting out of the car and sighing, beginning to walk towards the school and into the gymnasium which had become a makeshift banquet hall, a messy, rushed dance floor in the center, loud music, balloons, streamers, lights, the full nine yards. Couples danced together, some getting too touchy, friends laughed and talked, and then it caught my eye.

Darren and Tammy. Together. Again. Except this time, they looked like they were practically making out, hands dragging across each other, lips locked as she squealed in excitement and pleasure. 

I felt something in me snap, anger. I stormed towards the two, pushing Darren off of her, making him look pissed, “The fuck is your problem?” He sneered at me, pushing me back. The interaction garnered some attention from other attendees as I was pushed back by Darren.

“My problem is you're making out with my best friend!” I yelled back at him, more people watching by the second.

Darren just rolled his eyes as Tammy stayed silent, “You're just a basic whore, there's nothing to you.”

That hurt, deeply, but it only fueled my rage as I let out an annoyed grunt, my anger showing as I slapped my past friend hard across the face. She winced in pain, touching the stinging mark.

He was now beyond pissed with me, and I was even more pissed with him.

“You're a loser! I'm done with you! You think that you're all this and that because you're some fucking dumb jock, but you are just a loser!” I nearly screamed at him, feeling someone tug on my arm and pull me away, saving the three of us from experiencing a rough beating from each other.

I turned back to see who was dragging me away, and it was James. I was annoyed at first, needing to get some final words in, though I couldn't stay frustrated with him for too long, he was just doing me a favor. After we walked toward the back of the gym, he let go of me.

“You should go fix yourself up quickly. Not that you look bad, you look really pretty, but-” He paused himself, taking a breath. I nodded, walking out and into a nearby bathroom, adjusting my slightly tussled dress and fixing my hair.

I didn't look too messy, even after the mini tussle with my now ex-boyfriend. I just had to fix a few things, and I'd look as good as new, and now I do.

I took another breath, walking back into the gym, slightly sad, now alone. I couldn't see James, and I could see Darren and Tammy in a corner. The last two people I wanna be around right now. All of my other friends were messed about with their boyfriends or crushes, flirting with them.

Then it began. The slow dancing. The notes of a slow, soft love song stung my ears, and the sight of all the lovey-dovey couples who couldn't get enough of each other made me sick. I was always a sucker for romance, but I guess when you have no one to share it with, it just seems yucky.

I sighed, watching them all dance slowly with each other, debating if I should just leave or not, I had nothing to do here other than just stand in the middle of the floor, feeling jealous of truly in love couples.

I evaded my eyes from the sight, looking down at the floor, until I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, turning my head to see who it was.

A shy, nervous blonde boy stood beside me, his long curly hair hiding his face somewhat as he held the back of his neck with a hand, “Do you uh.. Wanna be my prom date..?” James asked me softly, his eyes not meeting mine out of embarrassment and nervousness.

I smiled lightly, nodding, “Mhm, yeah. That'd be nice.” I answered, my voice also soft as a small pink crept up on my cheeks.

He raised his head, a sheepish grin on his face as he placed his hands on my waist, and I placed mine on his shoulders as we began to slowly sway to the music, our eyes meeting with a sense of familiarity.

“I'm not much of a dancer, so… sorry,” He muttered with a small chuckle, and I just smiled in response.

“That's fine. You're doing great anyway,” I reassured him, and he smiled slightly wider.

I took him in with my eyes, admiring his fresh, orderly dark grey buttoned-up blazer with matching slacks, and his little blue tie the white undershirt, his whole suit was so fitting on him, he looked very handsome, very cute.

“You look, really, really pretty tonight, I know I kinda rambled it earlier, but-” He complimented me with a smile before I cut him off.

“Thank you, you look pretty handsome yourself,” I returned the compliment, smiling up at him still as we continued to dance slowly to the music, both of our cheeks having a hint of pink to them as we looked into each other's eyes, and for a second, everything felt right in the world. Even though I hadn't known James long, I felt closer to him than I do with some longtime friends.

After another minute of dancing with each other, the slow dance had ended, though we didn't leave each other. We stood with each other, sat with each other, and just talked about so many different things.

He told me about his band, how he played guitar and did some vocal work, and told me all about his favorite bands and musicians, and I just listened with a smile on my face. His voice was calming, and he was such a fun person. I admired him with my eyes, his beautiful features filling my senses. His icy blue eyes fit his features so well, accenting his angel-like hair, and I just wanted to stroke it, he was so beautiful and very caring.

We were in the middle of a conversation about one of his favorite bands, Motorhead.

“They're this like, super heavy rock band, and their front guy, Lemmy, is a total badass! I wanna reach his heights one day. Musics has always been there for me, y'know?” He explained to me, acting almost childlike with his excitement over the topic.

I nodded with a smile, “Mhm, they sound pretty cool. Maybe you can show me some of their music sometime.” I added, hoping he would say yes. I could care less about the music, but I'd love to spend more time with him.

He nodded with a wider grin, “Yeah! Sure, I'd love to show you some of their stuff,” he responded with excitement.

I smiled again, “Good, I like that.”

Another hour or so later, prom had ended, and people began to leave the gym, heading to their cars and leaving with their partners or friends. James walked away, looking for his friend Ron who was his ride to prom and supposed to be his ride home too.

James approached me again, slightly confused and nervous, “Uhm, my buddy, Ron, he was supposed to take me home but uh, I think he took his date home and forgot about me, you mind giving me a ride back to my place? It isn't that far,” James requested, and I couldn't say no.

I nodded, “Sure, I don't mind. You wanna go now?”

“Yeah, let's get out of here,” He responded, and we began to walk out together toward my car. I got in the driver's seat, James next to me in the passenger seat as we began to drive, James giving me directions to his home, the car ride was scattered with random conversations and rapidly switching topics. One minute were talking about class, then TV shows, movies, music, friends, stores, clothes, everything. 

After a good 10 minutes of random talking and directions given by James, we reach his home, my car slowing across the street from his home, giving him a glance, “The house across the street, right?” He nodded in response.

“Yeah, that's the one,” James answered, though he didn't leave the car yet. I watched him as he sat still for a second, his eyes looking down in thought before he glanced back up at me.

“I uh, I had a great time tonight, a lot better than I thought. Thank you for, well-” I cut him off, my wants giving in as I leaned in and gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips, which surprised him, and also myself. I pulled back, staring at him to examine his reaction.

After he was silent for a couple of moments, I grew worried that maybe I did something wrong, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't-”

James just shook his head, “No, that was.. Good, I've wanted that for a while,” He answered with a small, loving smile on his face, I nodded.

“Good, I.. I liked that.” I admitted, glancing down as my cheeks heated up.

This time he leaned in, giving me another soft, gentle kiss. We pulled away after a few moments, both smiling softly and glancing at each other before James undid his seatbelt.

“Well, I should get going, I guess,” James informed with a small smile, getting up and out of the car.

“Bye, James,” I said with a smile, watching him walk away.

“Bye,” He answered with a smile as well, heading back to his home.

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next fic will be a Dave mechanix fic!!!!

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-nine of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon disassembles his sand castle back into the original pattern without looking, Tim experiences multiple internal crisises, and someone passes by with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Tim, in self-defense, grabs a couple of the little crostini things on said tray and offers one to Kon, who looks pleased about it. 

“I dunno, does this count as a party?” Kon asks, glancing around with a little grin before popping his hors d'oeuvre into his mouth. Tim does the same, then remembers this means that now he knows what Kon’s mouth tastes like again. Dammit. 

Kon’s mouth currently tastes like ricotta and roasted grape, which isn’t even necessarily a taste that especially appeals to Tim, aside from the part where it’s how Kon’s mouth currently tastes. Why do people even roast grapes? Why is that even a thing? 

Why does Kon look so attractive in slightly smudged eyeliner he put on for him and clothes he bought him? Like–Kon always looks attractive, it’s an incredibly unfortunate curse on the world, reflexively checking out his ass in spandex literally did get Tim thrown off a roof once, but this attractive? This is several new layers of “attractive” and Kon is wearing all of them like a second skin. A very tight and fitted and well-tailored second skin, to be specific. One with cutouts and short-shorts involved. 

This metaphor may be getting away from him. 

“Technically I think so, though maybe not the usual kind,” Tim says. “I mean, it’s sort of a party, it’s just mostly an event. Maybe they want donations or something, I don’t know. Museums usually do.” 

He assumes that’s what the ticket money went to, or at least a fair chunk of it. They were pretty expensive tickets, considering, but since it’s an adults-only special event that isn't obviously themed in either a rogue-baiting or rogue-planned way he hadn't really questioned it. Getting overcharged by a probably-underfunded art museum isn't exactly enough to trot out his inner Bat or inner future supervillain for. 

Well, as long as nobody on staff annoys or insults Kon, anyway. Because in that case he will be financially destroying this place. Like, obviously. It's a little early to be planning his supervillain calling cards, but “you know what you did” is an increasingly tempting option. 

Anyway, that's just a contingency plan. Totally unnecessary as long as Kon has a good time. 

“What’s over there?” Kon asks, peering towards another station. Tim wonders why he’s asking, since he assumes he can feel it, though in retrospect “feeling” whatever it is doesn’t necessarily explain the purpose or point of whatever it is. 

“No idea,” Tim says. “Why, does it feel interesting?” 

“Um.” Kon . . . hesitates, then glances back to him, looking oddly–embarrassed, almost? Weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown. “It’s, uh . . . kinda, I guess. I dunno. Wanna check it out?” 

“Sure,” Tim says, peering towards it. It looks like a series of boxes with holes in them all stacked on top of each other, though he can’t see what’s actually inside them–there’s curtains or something built into them. He’s not really sure what the whole setup’s supposed to be, honestly, but if Kon’s interested . . . 

They head over, and it turns out the whole setup is basically the same theory as those haunted houses where they make you stick your hand in a box full of peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti and tell you they’re eyeballs and brains, although Tim is hoping peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti won’t actually be involved. 

“So there’s literally zero surprises here for you, I’m guessing,” Tim says wryly. Kon looks sheepish. 

“We can go do something else,” he says. 

“I mean, I’ll be surprised,” Tim points out. “So up to you if you’re interested or not.” 

“Okay, point, I guess,” Kon says, laughing a little and rubbing his arm self-consciously. “I dunno.” 

“Tell me which one to try?” Tim suggests, smiling at him. Kon laughs again, ducking his head to hide a grin. That continues to not be as effective as he probably wants it to be, given their height difference, but Tim has no intention of pointing that out. He doesn’t want to make Kon more self-conscious, and also it’s fucking adorable. 

Bastard. 

“You sure about that?” Kon says, his grin turning sly as he glances back towards him. “You don’t know what’s in there, babe.” 

“I’m willing to live a little dangerously,” Tim replies with an easy shrug. Kon laughs again. 

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teases.

Tim quickly regrets letting Kon pick which boxes he should stick his hands in via trying said boxes, but also Kon just looks so fucking cute laughing at the different faces he makes for every one, so it’s hard to actually get annoyed about it. Also, Kon admittedly did warn him. 

Although he might’ve rather put up with the peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti, honestly.

Seriously. Those are some textures, ugh.

[natsuslover]

ur account is so cutee !!

do you have any erasermic headcanons? (*^^*)♡

aww tysm! 🫶

and ofc i have erasermic headcanons they’re so chaotic i love them so much. i didn’t know if u wanted platonic or romantic so i just wrote platonic bc i have more hcs for that 😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ platonic erasermic headcanons ੈ✩‧₊˚

notes— i’m rewatching mha rn so i’m actually really excited to write all these mha headcanons

ft. shota aizawa, present mic (idk his real name)

warnings: very light spoiler in one of them i think

present mic gossips about the students ALL. THE. TIME. (mostly complaining or like random tidbits of tea but it’s harmless) to aizawa but he doesn’t really pay attention lmao.

except from time to time when mic says something that’s so clearly not the truth and aizawa just has to correct him.

when mic asks aizawa how he knows so much about the students aizawa’s like “they just tell me” which gets mic somewhat ticked off because the students never go to him for anything lol.

when aizawa’s teaching class present mic just randomly pops in from time to time to “shake things up”

he blatantly interrupts the lecture and goes up to the podium and gets all sentimental while dramatically retelling the students stories of his and aizawa’s high school days.

meanwhile aizawa just whips out his sleeping bag and uses the time to take a much needed nap.

really i think present mic does that on purpose because he KNOWS aizawa doesn’t sleep enough so it’s his own way of caring.

both of them just sit and reminisce about their high school days every once in a while because they want to remember the good things about shirakumo :(

aizawa’s not the most sentimental person (at least he doesn’t show that side very much) so present mic is one of the only people who gets to see aizawa when he’s really emotional.

they’re literally the grumpy x sunshine, golden retriever x black cat, opposites attract trope.

aizawa always pretends to be annoyed or exhausted by mic’s presence but everyone knows that’s not true.

despite acting like he doesn’t care he’s actually really appreciative of present mics friendship.

aizawa often goes through tough times with all his students (especially izuku, shoto, and katsuki) getting dragged into situations because he cares and worries about them, and present mic is there cheer him up and reassure him that everything will be fine.

present mic has a really optimistic outlook on life which usually uplifts aizawa’s pessimistic attitude.

whenever it comes to lesson plans both of them help each other out to the best of their abilities because neither of them enjoy planning stuff out.

honestly, i feel like even though they were friends in high school, their bond truly got stronger when they started teaching and because of their students.

random but one time in high school present mic dyed aizawa’s hair blond while he was sleeping at a slumber party.

the next morning aizawa woke up to mic’s relentless giggling, looked in the mirror, and was too tired to even care his hair was yellow lmao. he just looked at mic like “seriously dude?” and continued to wash his face.

but when present mic looked in the mirror he noticed that aizawa lowkey looked better than him in his signature hair color and immediately ran to the store to find black hair dye to dye it back.

after all, there’s no way he’d live it down if aizawa started pulling more girls than him…

unbeknownst to everyone else, aizawa and mic have super smash bros competitions every weekend (mic’s idea obviously)

aizawa wins

every time lmao

mic gets super pissed off about it because aizawa’s not even trying like 95% of the time and he’s STILL unbeatable.

present mic hates olives and aizawa doesn’t mind them, so whenever they get food with olives in it, mic spends time picking out EVERY olive and puts them in aizawa’s food.

they both like spicy food but while present mic is huffing and puffing and hakahajcahak-ing through his food, aizawa doesn’t even have a single drop of sweat on his face.

whenever they want to skip a teacher meeting, they use each other as excuses.

like “oh shit mic just uh… fell off a mountain i have to go help him brb” or “damn looks like eraser broke his foot gotta go check!”

they’re both dedicated teachers but sometimes those meetings can get sooo tedious.

aizawa often has to help present much grocery shop even at his grown age because man does NOT know how to shop like an adult lmao.

aizawa’s telling mic how he needs more onions because he ran out but in a split second the entire cart is filled with an entire year’s worth of snacks and junk food.

one glare from aizawa and poor present mic is putting back every single food item that he got lol.

mic is without a doubt the yapper of the duo.

like bro doesn’t know when to shut up and aizawa just goes along with it because that means he doesn’t have to talk as much.

actually aizawa’s like zoned out the whole time but present mic doesn’t really care he just likes that he can talk without interruption.

both of them are such opposites it just works out somehow and i really love that for them.

ok so this is really rushed and def not my best work but my brain is so fried rn i can’t think of anything so i hope this works 😭 i’ll definitely do more erasermic hcs later on when i can actually think tho.

[7-wonders]

At the Edge of the Universe

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XIV)

Summary: It’s time to meet the residents of Outpost 3 as Michael begins his interviews to see who will make it to the Sanctuary (spoiler alert: not many).

Word count: 4.1k

A note from the author: Surprise Mad Love drop! We are down to our last three or four chapters, can you believe it? I've told myself that I'm not allowed to write anything else until I finish this, so expect updates semi-frequently. Goal is to get this bad boy finished by June! As always—hope you enjoy, and remember that likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round!

Mad Love Masterlist

This is your fourth Outpost visit, and as you look out at the small crowd of survivors gathered in the sitting room of Outpost 3, you believe that you can confidently say that every one of them looks exactly the same.

Not appearance-wise, of course. Overseers are allowed to establish their own rules for their respective Outposts, including wardrobes. Most had been pretty laidback, actually. Outpost 3 is by far the most draconian, and you’re already regretting not pushing back on Michael’s decision to have you join him as you sweat in your stiff Victorian gown.

Though outfits and rules may change, what doesn’t is the faces. Every single time, when you and Michael arrive and make your introductions, the faces of the survivors are filled with hope. The hope of new drama, the hope of continued survival, the hope of a way out of the Outpost. It’s so familiar now, and each time, it’s pained you to see. These people that the apocalypse has spared, whether due to circumstance or societal standing, have no idea that they’re just pawns in Michael’s game of chess. No, worse than pawns. They’re nothing but dolls, amusement for Michael to play with before tossing them to the side like they’re worthless.

“My name is Langdon,” Michael starts. Instead of introducing you, he looks to you to introduce yourself, and you press your lips together to keep from smirking. Oh, he’s so going to regret this.

He immediately does the moment that you introduce yourself with your first and last name. Your legal last name, the one you were born with, and not that of your infernal husband. You can feel him looking at you, surely with barely-contained rage. Instead of looking back, you simply smile warmly at the occupants of Outpost 3, waiting for Michael to get back with the program.

“We won’t sugarcoat the situation,” he says after a brief stumble. “Humanity is on the brink of failure. Our arrival here is crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.”

There are a couple of other things that don’t change from Outpost to Outpost, you note as you watch the interaction that unfolds. The questions, for instance, are almost always the same, and almost always asked out of turn in a way that is guaranteed to infuriate Michael. What happened to everybody, what’s the Sanctuary, will some survive, etc. You clock every single question—even robot Ms. Mead’s, though that one wasn’t too surprising since you knew how she was reprogrammed—and listen as Michael gives the same answers that he always does.

Something else that doesn’t change? The abject lust displayed by a good contingent of the survivors. Michael’s a very attractive man, which you obviously know. 18 months is a long time to be surrounded by a very small amount of people day in and day out, and now that there’s fresh blood offering them a chance at salvation, they’ll do anything to convince him that they’re worthy. You frown as the survivors jockey for his attention, to be first. 

Not because you’re jealous or anything. It seems as though the only aspect of Michael’s personality that has remained untouched through his rebirth into a full-fledged Antichrist is his devotion to you. No, you frown because you know that Michael loves to use this to his advantage. After all, lust is one of the seven deadly sins.

“What was that?” Michael asks after the introduction is over and as soon as the doors close behind you in the office in which the interviews will be conducted. 

“What?” you ask coyly, playing a game of your own.

“You know what.”

“Oh, that?” Michael nods exasperatedly. “Langdon’s not my last name.”

You’re not sure if he looks more angered or bewildered, though the combination does have a pleasing shade of red creeping up his neck. “Of course it is, you’re my wife!”

“Not legally,” you retort.

“Well, we can’t exactly go to a courthouse to make it legal.”

“Hmm, maybe you should have waited for us to get to the point where I wanted to get legally married before ending the world.”

Michael’s jaw clenches, and he smirks. “Clever, though I have to say that your attitude is getting old.”

“And yours isn’t?”

You’re both breathing heavily as you glare, daring the other to continue. You fight with Michael so often now that this is a familiar dance, and you know the next move. He goes to kiss you, and though you’re certainly tempted, you put a hand up to stop him.

“No! No, we are not having sex right now.” You try to sound convincing, though you might be attempting to convince yourself more than Michael. It’s just so easy to resort to sex. It’s the one thing that you both agree on in this new world—that you’re good at having sex together. Plus, that’s one of the only times that you don’t completely hate him, and though it pains you to admit it, you look forward to those moments when you forget why you should think him a monster.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “We could, though.”

“No.” 

To drive the point home, you put as much space between you as possible and go to the desk that holds all of the files of every Outpost 3 resident. If there’s one thing that gets Michael’s mind out of the gutter, it’s talking about his magnum opus: the apocalypse.

“What’s Dinah doing here?” That had been quite the shock, to greet Outpost 3 and find yourself meeting the eyes of the (now former, you suppose) voodoo queen. Though her own had widened in a frightened recognition, she looked down at her hands and kept her gaze there for the remainder of the meeting. The man next to her, her son, was one of those who instantly fell a little bit in love with Michael.

“She bought her spot, just like all the other rich fucks.”

“So she won’t be joining us back at the Sanctuary,” you tease.

“Absolutely not, especially now that I have no use for her and her powers.” 

Ever since ending the world, Michael’s powers have blossomed into a whole different beast. He’s so powerful now that you don’t even know the extent, and you don’t think you want to. Where before, he would have needed the help of a voodoo queen or the Supreme when doing something especially complicated or out of his wheelhouse (such as enlisting Dinah’s help when you ate Satan’s poisoned apple or getting a spell from Mallory to reveal the ghost of Cordelia Goode), now, their powers would be worthless to him. You’re no expert when it comes to magic, but you think that his power must be equal to at least ten Supremes.

You certainly don’t want to test that theory.

“How many survivors will be accompanying us back to the Sanctuary, do you think?” you ask.

“Considering I’m not hopeful about interviews, there will be two. A man and a woman, both selected for their optimal genetics.” The interviews are never something to be hopeful over, because they almost always are a disappointment. In the other twelve Outposts, there have been a total of nine survivors that impressed Michael enough with interviews alone that he spared them from their original fates and gave them a spot at the Sanctuary.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the two that are very obviously in love with each other.”

“Which ones?”

You rifle through the folders until you find two with pictures that match who you were looking at in the library. “These two. Timothy and Emily.”

He looks up at you curiously. “How could you tell?”

“When they weren’t watching you, they were staring at each other.” 

Though the two were sat across the room from each other, their eyes were continually drawn together like magnets of differing polarities. You’re a little shocked that Michael couldn’t tell, considering his ‘night vision of the soul,’ as he calls it.

You just call it his creepy Antichrist powers.

You try not to, but you find yourself beginning to look through all of the files. They’re all fairly simple; a headshot, a bio, medical information. Really, Michael only uses them to look official and mysterious as he begins to pick their personalities apart bit by bit. For you however, they help to get to know the survivors, even just a little bit.

That’s precisely why you don’t like looking through these, why you don’t like these visits at all. Because knowing them, and knowing their ultimate fates, is something that makes you sick. Maybe that’s the price you’re forced to pay by the universe for being the Antichrist’s wife. You’re forced to be complicit in the continued mind games and eventual deaths of these people who thought that they were somehow safe after the bombs dropped.

Michael scoffs at the next file you flip open. “That’s one interview I’m dreading.”

“Her?”

“Mhm, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt.” His words drip with disdain.

Coco…the name strikes some level of familiarity, but you can’t remember where you would have met a Coco. She didn’t look familiar when you saw her and her…interesting hair in the sitting room. She’s obviously a socialite, so maybe she was trending for some scandal or another in the Before. It’s so hard to remember that time, not only for the pain, but because it feels like an entire lifetime ago. 

(Was it really only eighteen months ago that you were preparing for graduation, scrolling through social media, and participating in regular 21st-century society?)

One person who does look familiar? The white-haired stylist whose work Coco sports and the one who claimed the first interview spot before anybody else, Mr. Gallant. You’d recognize him anywhere—his confidence in you was one of the sole reasons you had the courage to go down the stairs and join Michael for your first Cooperative function. But as for him?

“Mr. Gallant didn’t recognize us,” you broach.

“No, he wouldn’t. Those whose services are needed by the Cooperative but aren’t trusted enough to keep their mouths shut are…conditioned to forget.”

“You brainwash them,” you clarify.

“I don’t.” His lips twitch at his own joke. Of course, he doesn’t. That would be getting his hands dirty, which he hates doing, especially now that he has all the resources in the (under)world at his disposal.

“My bad.”

“You’re so interested in this group of survivors. Does that mean you’ll be joining me for interviews?”

When you joined Michael for the first time, at Outpost 6, you said yes when he asked you this question. It was something different, after all, and you were at first interested in being a part of the process and getting to know some new survivors. Of course, this was all before you actually sat in on the first couple of interviews and witnessed Michael’s interview ‘style’ firsthand.

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, no. I hate all the weird sexual tension you have with everyone you interview.”

Naturally, Michael gets the wrong idea and thinks that you’re jealous. He places his hands on the arms of your chair, and leans in until he can meet your eyes. “You’re my one and only, you know that.”

“I do.” You stare back at him unflinchingly. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“The sexual tension or that you’re my soulmate?” You simply raise an eyebrow in response, and Michael sighs before straightening up. “Well, a Gray should be arriving at any moment with Mr. Gallant, so if you don’t want to see any ‘weird sexual tension,’ I would suggest leaving now.” 

“Alright then, guess I’ll give myself a tour around ol’ Hawthorne.”

Michael pouts. “I was planning on taking you around tonight after Venable’s curfew.”

“Oh, that sucks. Have fun.” You give him a friendly pat on the shoulder as you leave the room.

Outpost 3 isn’t the largest Outpost you’ve visited, but it’s still pretty expansive. In most cases, this would mean lots of exploring to do. Unfortunately, it seems that Ms. Venable has stripped this place of anything that would make it unique. Hall after hall looks exactly the same in a way that would be disorienting if you weren’t keeping track of your whereabouts. The same boring, gray walls, the same black doors, the same frightened Grays scurrying around.

(If you had to pick the worst part about this Outpost so early on, you’d have to go with the forced servitude of some of the survivors here. Most of the other Outposts had a glorified chore chart that distributed tasks equally among survivors. Others had special privileges given to those who volunteered to work. This system? Well, this system has you hoping that Michael’s especially tough on Ms. Venable during her interview.)

After coming to the unfortunate conclusion that this is about as interesting as it’s going to get for you, you make your way back to where it all started: the library. This room at least has some character, between the fireplace and the music playing. Yes, it might be the same song on repeat, played on a vintage radio, but at least it’s something. 

As it turns out, you won’t be alone. The two that you had noticed earlier, the ones that couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, are holding hands and whispering to each other on the couch. They spring apart when you enter, and it’s obvious that they’re not expecting anybody to see them. Their attitude, and the way they’re trying to play it off like they weren’t conspiring, gives you pause. What other severe rules has Ms. Venable imposed on those under her care?

“Hello,” you smile at the two warmly in between appraising the titles on the shelves. “Timothy and Emily, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Timothy says warily.

Emily, who doesn’t have that same tact, immediately gets to her question. “Are you here to interview us?”

You shake your head. “No, I let Langdon do the interviewing.”

“So…what do you want with us?”

“I don’t want anything with you. I am trying to find some entertainment, because this place is already incredibly boring and I’ve barely been here six hours.”

Timothy laughs. “Yeah, that doesn’t really get better.”

They watch as you continue to peruse the books, waiting to see if this is some sort of trap devised by you and Michael. It’s not—you genuinely just want to find a book you haven’t read yet and escape to your bedroom for a few quiet hours. Unfortunately, nothing is modern here, not even the books, and you end up settling on Frankenstein, which you’ve read a couple of times now. 

“Is it alright if we ask you a couple of questions?” Timothy asks when you turn back around.

So much for a quiet few hours.

You sigh and sit down on the couch opposite the pair. “I can’t guarantee that I can answer all of them, but I’ll certainly try.”

“What’s it like out there?” Timothy asks the question, but both his and Emily’s eyes shine, desperate for any sort of news about the world outside the walls of Outpost 3. You wish you had better to share with them.

“Lawless. You remember the movies about the apocalypse?” They nod. “It’s worse than that. The world is completely unrecognizable, decimated by the bombs. If it weren’t for a map, I wouldn’t even know where we are. Those who survived the blast have been affected by the radiation from the fallout in the most terrible of ways. They have…sores and growths and cancer, all over their bodies. People kill each other for the smallest scrap of clothing. I’ve seen cannibals picking clean the bones of someone they once traveled with, someone that was once their friend.”

“My god,” Emily mutters.

“When M-–Langdon traveled to Outpost 2, his carriage was almost overrun by a band of survivors. They believed there was food inside, and even if there wasn’t, they wanted the chance to hurt somebody that hadn’t yet been hurt by nuclear fallout.” 

That had been a terrifying ordeal to hear Michael recount. He wasn’t scared at all, knowing both that the radiation couldn’t hurt him and that he could (did) kill all of them with the snap of his fingers. But you were, for the simple fact that the world that you had once lived in was completely gone and replaced by one where people hunted each other out of necessity, because it might be the only true meal they could eat in weeks.

“How did he get out of it?” Timothy wonders.

The true answer obviously isn’t something that you’re able to share, so you instead go with what would have been the answer if it were any other member of the Cooperative in the carriage. “The bodies of the carriage have an electric current that can be activated in case of emergency. The attackers were all electrocuted with the push of a button.”

“Langdon mentioned a Sanctuary,” Emily says. “Is that where you live?”

“We both do.”

“What’s it like?” Timothy asks, while at the same time, Emily questions, “Where is it?”

“The Sanctuary is…well, it feels like the world never ended, that it just moved underground. As for the location, I’m afraid that’s classified.” You smile sympathetically, feeling a lot like Michael.

Now that this line of communication has been established, that Emily and Timothy now feel like they can trust you, you can practically see the plethora of questions that they want to ask.

“So how do you end up working for an organization like the Cooperative?”

Now that’s a question you haven’t been asked before. “It’s kind of a long story,” you say with an awkward laugh, wracking your brain to come up with a lie convincing enough that they believe it.

Before you can, the sound of a cane clicking slowly across the floor stops you. You look in the direction of the entryway, where none other than your dour host stands. Her bright orange hair stands in stark contrast to the rest of her outfit, black like yours. She smiles at you with darkly painted lips, but it’s a smile that holds absolutely no warmth.

“Dinner is served,” she announces.

The three of you stand, but only two start to follow Ms. Venable to the kitchen. “I’ll take my leave, then,” you say.

“You won’t be joining us?” She sounds a tad incredulous, as though nobody’s told her no in quite some time. That’s likely the case.

“The Cooperative supplies us with rations of our own, so as not to take from the Outposts’ stockpiles.”

It’s technically true. Michael would rather starve than eat the gelatinous cubes that constitute nutrition, and thanks to the endless powers he’s gifted with, meals remain the same as they are when at the Sanctuary.

“We shall see you tomorrow, then.”

You nod before smiling at Emily and Timothy. “It was nice talking to you.”

As you walk towards the office, you can already hear Venable questioning what it was that you talked about, trying to determine if the two gained an edge on making it to the Sanctuary. If only she knew that they’re practically guaranteed spots, you think with a quiet laugh.

Michael arrives at the office at the same time as you do, which is odd, considering he’s meant to be inside the office conducting his interviews. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently before opening the doors and leading you in.

“Where were you?” you ask.

He waves a hand and the doors close behind you. “Finishing up an interview.”

“Doing a little field work?”

“Something like that. Now, I’m starving, and I would very much like to enjoy dinner with some good company.”

At first, you felt a little bad eating your favorite foods while the rest of the inhabitants were forced to eat what was left of their rations. Why should you enjoy while they suffer? And then, you met the survivors, most of whom were filthy rich, and you felt okay with it.

Now, as you sit across from Michael enjoying an actual meal, you allow yourself to pretend for a little bit that your life is still as it was before the end. That this is a regular day after classes, and you’re eating a quick meal and enjoying the company of the man you love before you’re off to finish homework, go to an activity, or just hang out with friends. You miss the simplicity that you didn’t know you had, even still after eighteen months.

“How were your interviews?” you ask, trying to bask in that normalcy for as long as you can.

“Nothing to write home about, though I did learn that Ms. Venable is…shockingly self-conscious beneath her hard exterior.”

You scoff. “And that’s surprising to you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I talked with Emily and Timothy,” you mention.

“Please tell me they’re not as vapid as the rest of the inhabitants of this Outpost.”

“No, they’re…actually kinda cool.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, the reason that you immediately liked them so much is because they kind of remind you of you and Michael, before the apocalypse. They’re so in love with each other, so eager to just be near one another and enjoy their presence. It brings you back to New Orleans, walking through the market arm in arm as you searched for the perfect gift for Kate and he eagerly shared what he had learned when looking up grad schools for you. What you wouldn’t give to be showing him how to catch fireflies, or enjoying a sugary treat together.

Shouting sounds from downstairs, a loud argument starting to take place and distracting you from your thoughts. While you strain to try and hear what’s being yelled about, Michael simply smirks. “Took them long enough.”

Neither of you is surprised, because this is what always happens when Michael arrives at an Outpost. He, quite literally, brings Hell with him. It’s an interesting side effect of what happens when an Antichrist inhabits your space. Those walls that people put up, the rules that they live their lives by, crumble when the living embodiment of sin walks in. From there, it’s only a matter of time until everything unravels and they begin giving in to those seven deadly sins. As you listen to wrath begin to cloud minds, you can practically see Michael becoming more powerful thanks to it.

Later, wrath continues, along with a side of lust.

High-pitched shrieking, so different from the argumentative yelling of earlier, wakes you from the dozing you had taken to while trying to read Michael’s interview reports after dinner. You scramble to sit up in your chair, looking at Michael with wide eyes.

“What was that?” you ask.

He doesn’t even tear his eyes away from the computer to look at you, simply waving a hand nonchalantly. “Oh, Timothy and Emily have just been caught having sex. They’re about to be executed.”

“What?” You stand up in alarm, sure that this is actual cause for alarm. Michael, on the other hand, doesn’t even react to your reaction. “Michael!” you snap, desperately wanting him to show some kind of humanity.

Finally, he turns around in his chair and sighs as though you’re interrupting your work, which you know for a fact you’re not. “Yes?”

“We can’t let them die.”

“We won’t.”

You look at him in disbelief, because it sure looks like he’s going to let them die. “Then why aren’t you stopping this?”

Michael finally joins you in standing, taking your hands in his and squeezing reassuringly. “It’s sweet of you to worry about them, and I promise you that they will not die before reaching the Sanctuary. I’ll stop this when the time is right. First, however,” he smiles, “I’d like to enjoy their terror for a bit.”

“Every time I think you can’t possibly let me down more than you already have, you prove me wrong.” 

Michael’s face falls at the barb that hits unexpectedly deep, but you don’t have it in you to claim any sort of victory in this. Anger, that heady emotion that’s fueled you up until now, has completely left you at this latest example of Michael’s lack of humanity. All that remains now is disappointment, and it’s a disappointment that leaves you tired. Tired of these games, tired of the life that you’ve found yourself in, tired of being able to do nothing but watch.

Except, you can do something this time. In this Outpost, you have the same amount of power as Michael. With that in mind, you pull your hands free and make for the door.

“C’mon, where are you going?” Michael calls after you.

You don’t answer him, because he knows as well as you. If he won’t put a stop to this, then you will.

///

Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @aftertheglitterfades @iamlivingforturner @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angistopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox @ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff

[kingyoisland]

My Moshang Related headcannons:

- Moshang is Taylor swift coded and no one and I mean no one can tell me otherwise.

- Mobei Jun would like Hoizer and Florence + The Machine

- Shang Qinghua would like Flo Millie and Olivia Rodrigo.

- Mobei Jun did not find Shang Qinghua attractive at first. But his attraction to Shang Qinghua hit him like a truck. Like one day he’s pretending to sleep on his lackies bed. Then he looks over and Shang Qinghua has his hair down, the light of the candle giving his face a warm glow. His eyes trail over the scroll on his desk. He’s so still though and the flame reflects in his eyes something Mobei Jun couldn’t quite understand.

Then he sits up internally the elegant version of like ‘oh gods what the fuck was that. I need to go to fucking bed Now!! What.?!’

And down hill from there this man’s been a simp ever since.

- Shang Qinghua is Deeply Possessive. Like Binghe gets it from his daddy in this case because anyone who has courted Mobei Jun ends up on the kill list. He’s really good at hiding it making it seem like the murders are Mobei Jun’s ideas. I like the thought that Mobei Jun doesn't realize this about Shang Qinghua. Until a little demon child is like ‘yeah the honorable king is handsome.’ And Shang Qinghua looks pissed. Just death stares this fucking kid. Mobei Jun is very happy at this discovery.

- I feel like Shang Qinghua is richer than Mobei Jun. he doesn’t have Mobei Jun’s power and like servants or home. But if we compare human rich to demon rich Shang Qinghua is over Mobei Jun. Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun have not realized that is the case.

- When Shang Qinghua moves into the Demon Realm full time. He does everything for Mobei Jun. He makes sure Mobei Jun just needs to sign off and battle and do whatever the fuck Mobei Jun wants to do. Shang Qinghua made this spoiled prince when he was in An Ding full time. It’s SO much worst that he now lives with Mobei Jun technically. He Spoils Mobei Jun Rotten!! Only the best food, Clothing, home, bedding, art, wine, and weaponry. Nothing less than Shang Qinghua’s high standards of Quality will be near his king.

- Mobei Jun’s kingdom becomes the most prosperous in all the demon realm. not just because of conquest. But because his people have the highest literacy rates and capitalism. They’re the first kingdom in the demon realm with like Grocery stores.

- After the Airplane extras Mobei Jun makes Shang Qinghua get him ready for the day and then at night helps him get undressed instead of having other servants do it. He does this so that he is sure to see Shang Qinghua every morning and every night. So he knows Shang Qinghua is accounted for every morning and night

It becomes their favorite part in the day despite how much Shang Qinghua complains he doesn’t complain about doing this. Just that he’s scared of fucking up at first. Eventually he does it so often it becomes second nature and he’s not even worried anymore. It’s so domestic and sweet and healing for both of them. Because no matter what Shang Qinghua touches him so gently. And his hands are so warm and at night they’re both tired so it’s the one time either of them are really quiet in each others company.

-It takes them 6 years to get together after the end of the airplane extras. Yes that fucking long they really need to know how to communicate and heal bro.

-I feel like Shang Qinghua doesn’t believe in marriage really. Like interpersonally he’ll congratulate people and like be happy for them. But he’s always said that he was never going to get married or anything close to that. He’ll say ‘I feel like it’s a waste of time for me I’ve never seen a marriage that lasted. What do I know about that.’ And this makes Mobei Jun depressed for a week and when Mobei Jun is depressed it becomes everyone’s fucking problem.

But obviously if Mobei Jun wanted to marry him Shang Qinghua would have a panic attack leave come back and say yes. Then host the Best fucking wedding for Mobei Jun on the fucking planet. It is EXTRAVAGANT!

He’s buy Mobei Jun a wedding ring. I don’t know why but I don’t feel like Bingqiu would get them but I know Shang Qinghua would get ones for him and Mobei Jun.

-I feel like at some point it be funny if they did a wife Swap with Bingqiu. Shang Qinghua gives Binghe a list of names of people who insulted Shen Qingqiu for marrying him and tells Binghe to have fun. Then goes about running the palace.

Meanwhile Mobei Jun just asked Shen Qingqiu to peel an apple for him because Shang Qinghua told him it’s bad to eat the skin. And Shen Qingqiu is having a fucking Aneurism.

[superectojazzmage]

Really interesting aspect to Amazing Digital Circus is how the performers aren’t actually, like, forced to do anything.

Its made pretty clear that the adventures aren’t compulsory or anything like that. There’s no punishment for not participating, the performers can just wander off to do other stuff instead of taking part in adventures (Jax, Pomni, and Ragatha do exactly that and Zooble tries to do it only to walk into the Gloinks by accident). Ragatha claims that Caine only generates the adventures as a way of helping the performers avoid abstraction and they’re totally optional, while Caine himself notes that the one thing he can’t control in the Circus is people’s own minds and souls. There’s no gun to their head forcing them to partake in these weird, oft-traumatic antics, their free will is not impaired in any way.

But at the same time… what else are they gonna do?

They can’t leave obviously, so their only sources of entertainment or any real life experience for that matter is whatever they have on hand in the Circus and the weird cyber-island it exists on. That would be fine but there doesn’t seem to be a ton of real amenities on the island beyond the Circus, and the Circus is mostly just confusing and terrifying and bizarrely empty for something meant to entertain people. The “rewards” for adventures are just that, seemingly only able to be given to them by Caine as a condition for winning and consisting of stuff like dinners. Presumably they’re allowed personal possessions or hobbies, but what is that going to amount to when there’s nothing but circus equipment and the occasional object you’d see in a children’s rec center?

Any kind of purely adult fun is preempted too, even though the only people in the Circus are adults in their twenties to forties. They can’t go out drinking or engage with media that has anything above an E For Everyone rating. They can’t have sex because of the enforced censorship and kid-friendly nature of the Circus (and their avatars probably aren’t even physically capable of it), and even if they could why would they WANT to have sex with each other considering their avatars’ appearances and their hideously clashing personalities? They’re not even allowed to swear or discuss “adult” topics, so they have to stifle and censor their speech constantly instead of speaking frankly as adults.

(as a side note, I feel like this whole “all ages” element is possibly intended or could be read as a satire on the infantilization of the modern internet by corporations and censorship in general in modern society, but that’s a whole other post)

Literally the only break from the monotony of the Circus is when Caine changes things slightly by introducing an adventure. And even that doesn’t seem to attract much enthusiasm from the performers, since the one adventure we’ve seen so far sucks and seems to just annoy everyone more than anything. Caine tries to give them things they would enjoy, but is clearly limited by both the strict content rules of the Digital World and his own poor understanding of humans; he created the Fake Exit to try and cheer up Kaufmo by giving him what he wanted — an escape from the Circus — only to realize he couldn’t actually let them out that way and that they wouldn’t respond well to thinking they’re getting out only to have their hopes shattered (which is exactly what happens to Pomni).

These annoying, asinine scenarios are the only thing that createsk any sort of change or excitement in the Circus, so of course everyone is going to engage with them because otherwise they’ll be bored out of their skulls. And being bored out of your skull is a sure fire way to push your mind ever closer to abstraction. And maybe even with how dumb they are, the adventures could be fun, but it’s hard to get very enthused about them when they’re the only thing you have, day in, day out. That monotonous feeling of running without moving never goes away.

The reason the Circus breaks people so much and so badly isn’t because of how freaky it is, but how tedious it is. It offers only an illusion of choice while never impairing the performers’ ability to recognize that they DO have a choice and SHOULD be able to do other things because they’re people but they artificially can’t. And that suppression of their ability to have choices and do whatever they want like any human can is what drives them mad.

[local-critter]

I have a couple ideas for you! Obviously you don't have to do them but here are the ideas

- how m6 react to MC giving them a very expensive gift

- m6 when MC accidentally gets hurt (minor injuries)

- m6 when MC is cute and tired/sleepy or if MC gets very hyper before bed

- insomniac mc

- m6 reaction to MC ranting abt their hyperfixations

-m6 after MC worked themselves to exhaustion/overworked,

Just a couple ideas off the top of my head, would love to give more though :]

MC who rants about their hyperfixations

(I will get to the rest eventually I swear)

Asra

He encourages it 100%

They love hearing you talk, it’s one of their favorite sounds

He may fall asleep tho

If you’re already cuddling, they’re gonna clonk out in minutes

They never mean too but your voice is so soothing to them (after going so long without it)

They look at you with the most adoring gaze the whole time, hanging off your every word (they’re daydreaming your wedding)

They find passion super attractive, they love that you have things that excite you so much

They try to prompt you into a rant often, either when you're both doing things together in the same room or at night as basically a lullaby for them 

Faust lays on your shoulders and lays on you as you rant, she squeezes you a little tighter if you're very animated and talk with your hands too

She doesn't mind, she just doesn't want to fall

Julian

You are his type of person 

He is the exact same way

You two basically share hyperfixations, like if one rants about one thing for too long then the other gets into it too and you just bounce ideas off each other 

Whenever you're both free, at almost all hours can your neighbors hear you ranting 

He's a pacer, he's loud, he's dramatic; hell be throwing his arms around everywhere and running his hands through his hair until he's just a ginger blur of motion 

You take turns typically, but sometimes you two rant together and feed off each other

Malak gets startled if voices get raised 

Sometimes he gets home too tired and he just wants to hear your voice, so you'll take a seat on the couch and he'll rest his head on your lap so you can rant all you want

If you play with his hair absentmindedly, he melts into a puddle

He loves letting your voice wash over him and wash away the day’s exhaustion 

Nadia

Loves it

She finds intelligence attractive, and especially if it's something she doesn't know much about

She gets a little flustered 

Sometimes if she's in a rush she shuts you up with a kiss and tells you that you'll continue later before going off to her next meeting or event 

She doesn't really care what you're ranting about typically, just that you're talking 

As in, she'll listen regardless and she'll ask questions to prompt you to keep going 

But sometimes she'll just be looking at you with hearts in her eyes after a long day

She rants to you too, occasionally

If you listen to her with the same attentiveness, she practically swoons 

Be still her beating heart 

If you give her the same treatment, like hanging off her every word and asking questions to prove you were paying attention, she falls in love all over again

Originally, she saw rants as…not very polite I guess

Unstructured, and she wasn’t the biggest fan of them

She felt like they were really emotional, and if she was too emotional she feared she wouldn't be taken seriously

But you take her so seriously no matter what she's doing and she loves you all the more for it

Muriel

Loves them so long as you're not yelling 

It takes pressure off of him to talk, so he's content to let your voice fill in the silence as you both go about your days 

It takes him a while to feel comfortable enough to ask questions but he gets there eventually

He's very attentive

He doesn't rant very often, but rarely, you can get him talking about something like a rare flower or his favorite type of tree 

And if you tell him you just like his voice, his face is on fire 

He may have to take a few minutes to reboot 

Inanna finds it funny 

He loves learning new things, while he preferred his life of isolation compared to living in the city, he didn't always like it

And you ranting to him is an easy way for him to learn too

Portia

She's a lot like Julian 

You both take turns 

Typically you share a hyperfixation and the Palace library barely survives as you two tear it apart in search for more content

Nadia finds it greatly amusing, not that she’d ever say so

More than once has she gotten up in the middle of the night because she had a new point to rant about 

She gets cranky in the morning when that happens tho, she needs her full eight hours so you’ll have to gently judge her back into bed and hope she actually falls asleep

She, like her brother, is also a big blur of movement, pacing and throwing her arms around and hair flying everywhere as if it'll get her point across better 

She's just as passionate as you are if not more so; as a servant she feels her words are worth less than others, so it means the world to her that you’re willing to listen to her and she’ll give you the same treatment

She probably hangs off your every word

Lucio

He found it a little weird at first but he got used to it eventually 

He tries to listen but finds it hard sometimes

He does prompt you to keep talking though, it’s good practice for him to get used to hearing what others have to say

He mostly just rants when he’s annoyed, but he likes that you do it when you’re excited

After a while together he finds himself actually listening to you and remembering what you say

Like he’d be out and see something that reminds him of our current hyperfixation and he’d buy it for you without a thought

Just because he listens to you doenst mean he always knows what your’re talking about but he does try