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tteokdoroki · 11 months

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☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. love island’s heart rate challenge.

about. you’re the bombshell katsuki tells her not to worry about. i just wanted to hop on the love island!bakugou trend because i finally managed to catch up and watch some.

warnings. suggestive. minors & ageless blogs do not interact. implied cheating but not really bc it’s love island, british slang lol, lap dances, making out, saucy outfits & fem!reader.

the girl bakugou couples up with has been worried about you from the moment you first stepped into the villa.

and rightly so.

you’ve had almost every boy charmed since your arrival. kirishima made you lunch on your first day, todoroki and sero eagerly followed you for a chat by the pool to express their interest in you at the party hosted in your honour on night one. but you, you had your sights set on katsuki bakugou.

as a bombshell, you’d been given the power to choose any guy you wanted to take on a first date to the sandy shores of Majorca — with crystal clear waters, fresh fruits and champagne as your wingmen. and while you had initially picked bakugou for his sharp jaw line, mysterious wine red eyes and obviously the rest of his good looks (those abs looked like they were taken straight from a magazine) you were pleasantly surprised by how warm he was. his eye contact was strong, the raspy lilt to his voice was both alluring and calming and he seemed genuinely interested in you as a person and not because you were his type down on paper (though that was a bonus).

you laugh and smile about where you grew up, your favourite things and your red flags and by the end of the date — bakugou is feeding you fruit and helping you stand with a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. “s’only been a few days so i’m not completely closed off,” he mumbles a little too fast. “i’m open to getting to know you.”

you want to get to know him too.

you don’t tell the girls this when they crowd around you with blinged out bikinis and coconut scented sunscreen to ask you how your date went. you’d rather keep your cards close to your chest, but you tell them how nice bakugou is, how sweet he is. some of the girls can instantly tell how much he’s into you. bakugou’s match doesn’t say much.

“obviously, i don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” you expressed politely to the girls, your eyes doe eyed and bright, voice level and sweet. “i’ve come in at a difficult point, so i’ll just get to know everyone and let the boys know that the ball is in their court.” you don’t care if it makes you seem fake, but you don’t have any plans on leaving the island without bakugou on your arm.

the rest of the week is spent hopping between the boys, wearing all of your most sizzling swimsuits and pyjama sets — knowing that katsuki’s eyes are following you everywhere around the villa. he makes you iced coffees and scrambled egg with toast at breakfast times. he likes you and you like him and it’s causing problems with the girl the blonde is coupled up with.

on the fourth day, you get a text whilst in the pool — schmoozing with bakugou’s rival, deku. you announce it while he smooches up your ankle, making bakugou see flashes of red “islanders, it’s time to see how much of your heart truly belongs to the person you’ve coupled up with. tonight we’ll test that #heartratechallenge #peepthepulse!”

it’s then that you know exactly what to do. exactly how to get your man.

the producers supply you with a cute little number, one that you specifically request in bakugou’s favourite colour — the burnt orange lace of your corset and tiny shorts contrasting perfectly against your skin, accompanied by thigh high socks that squeeze around the plush flesh. your new best friend in the villa helps you smoke out your eyelids and touch up your makeup for the perfect look while she tells you that you look good enough to eat.

and you are. when it’s your turn to get those hearts racing — you stand before the boys at the fire pit who drink you in like a tall glass of water on simmering hot day and eat up your curves highlighted in your skimpy little outfit like men starved. you start with sero and make your way down the line, taking his finger into your mouth before kissing up his arm and right to his ear once you’re in his lap. todoroki digs his thumbs into your waist when you throw it back on him, kirishima let’s out a low whistle when you give him extra special treatment and a kiss on the neck (courtesy of being bakugou’s best friend), you let kaminari feel up and down your curves and nibble on your ear.

bakugou is rigid in his place by the time you reach his rival izuku — and you put on an extra show, pulling the man to a stand and grinding on him like nobody’s business. the boys holler and whoop and scream, practically sweating at the show you put on for them.

when you reach the blonde, you crawl into his lap tantalisingly slow, his rough hands instinctively coming up to cup your thighs — smooth over the skin as katsuki leans back in his seat and manspreads to make room for you.

“hi handsome,” you greet him with an innocent purr, running your hands up to the back of his neck to toy with his baby hairs.

you’re so close to him that he can feel your heat spread through his soul and burn him from the inside out — replacing any memory of the girl that he’s coupled up with. “hi gorgeous, what took ya so long?”

“i wanted to save the best for last.”

bakugou’s cheeks flood with a red that rivals his eyes when you grind down into him, calculatedly placing your lips inches away from his thumping pulse point. you grab at his hair and he grabs at you, practically groping one another as you ghost over his lips, tease him with the prospect of a kiss. he can hear his own heart thundering through his ears, the blood rushing to his head (and between his legs) making him too dizzy to even think. saliva pools in bakugou’s mouth as you make a mess of him without even trying, rolling yourself in his lap, shaking your ass against him, whispering filthy shit into his ear even though the mics can pick it up.

to wrap it up, when you slide off of katsuki, you pretend to drop something — standing up sensually to give him a little treat. his eyes clearly glued to your cute behind.

by the time your turn is over, katsuki knows that he’s done for. he wants you, and the way your vanilla perfume lingers on his sun licked skin. he’s in a daze for the rest of the game and doesn’t even notice the way his girl’s face twists at the sight of your lipstick prints all over him.

neither of you can hide your faces when deku begrudgingly announces “the girl that raised bakugou’s heart rate the most was….” and your name follows suit. you offer up your most winning smile, giving the blonde those “fuck me eyes.” that really get him going from across the fire pit and he can’t help but smirk back.

the boys clap for him but the girl he’s coupled up with gives you a look that could kill.

before it all comes to head, katsuki approaches you and your best friend by the bar — hands tucked into his lose cargo pants, silver dog tags around his neck glinting around his thick neck as he juts his head in the direction of the sunbed’s.

“can i pull you for a quick chat?” he grunts and you grin, offering him your hand despite the stares from the other islanders. you want katsuki bad, so you’ll be as controversial as you want — no matter who’s coupled up with who. “obviously, i like you, a lot.” he starts, helping you sit down, hand around your wrist and eyes full of admiration.

since you’ve come into the villa all he can think about is you, your laugh and your smile. to say his head was turned would be an understatement. katsuki bakugou is crushing hard on you.

“i think you can tell, ‘specially from how that challenge went.” it’s hard for him to open up like this and admit it to you, but your connection goes beyond your beauty and bakugou feels himself gravitating towards you more than his old match. he doesn’t want to pass this up, maybe lose you to izuku. “i said i was open, but i think… if you picked me. i’d be completely closed off for you. i want you like that. if you’d want me too.”

he fiddles with your hands nervously as you sit opposite him, all dolled up with shiny eyes and glossy lips under the evening sky. you think katsuki couldn’t get any cuter which only solidifies your choice.

“i’ve only ever wanted you since i came here, katsuki. i feel like we get each other,” inching forward until you’re a breath’s width apart, you tenderly brush a blonde lock away from his pretty face. “i wanna be yours just as much as you wanna be mine.” you add, quietly.

and you don’t care if your next move makes you shady or betrays anyone’s trust — but you came into the villa looking for love and you think you’ve genuinely found it within katsuki. so you lean forward, pressing your lips gently against his and squeak in surprise when bakugou reciprocates almost instantaneously. he cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past the boundaries of your soft lips to tangle with your own.

“your lip gloss tastes like shit.” bakugou pulls away with a grumble, but his face breaks out into a wide and accomplished grin. “c’mere, kiss me again.”

“m’kay,” you tilt your head towards him, your own expression light with laughter, and place your hand over the one that cups your cheek. “i like kissing you.”

“i like kissing you too.”

smiling again, you squish bakugou’s cheeks. “so does this mean you’re picking me at the next re-coupling?”

katsuki nods dumbly, wanting nothing more to pull you into his lap. he knows they’ll be drama tonight, dealing with the last girl, his sleeping arrangements and yours — but he doesn’t care. he just wants to share this moment with you.

“i’ll pick you a thousand times over. at this re-coupling and every single fuckin’ one after.” katsuki reaffirms, knowing that he’s absolutely fucked up and in love.

and that’s enough for you to kiss him all over again.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo thirst #bakugo smut #bakugo drabble #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha thirst #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha thirst #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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loosiap · 5 months

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Updated old hair default replacements

Maybe I should reblog all of these because old MEGA download links are broken as it doesn't allow updates I am a dumbass... But I'm not reblogging because I think it's too much and it could be annoying for you. So for the past few weeks (or more idk time) I was reblogging only replacements that I added more ages to. Here's all links to the rest updates with more minor changes.

What are those changes? Firstly I edited everything so the files contain as little resources as possible. For replacements with added ages I edited placement in the catalog if I didn't like it and some I remade to use method that I use nowadays (method of using hidden clones. When I started to upload DRs here I was using method from Spookymuffin, now I use it only if there's no hidden clones but in modified version so there's no unnecessary resources in the end product).

The changes are not that big but, you know, I just wanted to make sure all my files are nice and neat.

1) fhair barrett_blackclip → Anto's Levitating 2) fhair barrett_redclip → Ade's Lisa s.4

(those 2 are in the same post) 3) fhair barrett_blondclip → Newsea's Summer of Nancy 4) fhair barrett_brownclip → LeahLillith's Azure

5) fhair barrett_greyclip → Nightcrawler's Alice 6) fhair barrette → Newsea's Evergreen

7) mhair sixty → Newsea's Pinocchio 8) mhair shortsimple → Anto's Reload Flipped

9) mhair gelledrock → Newsea's Benjamin 10) mhair caesar → Anto's David

11) fhair ponytail → LeahLillith's Nancy 12) fhair poofs → LeahLillith's June

(those 2 are in the same post) 13) mhair shortcombed → Ginko's G10 14) mhair shortcenterspike → Newsea's Zac

15) mhair short → Wings' OS0214 16) mhair cornrows → LeahLillith's Lemonade

17) fhair pgchoppy → Kewai-Dou's Drag Queen 18) fhair crown → Newsea's Sweet Slumber

(those 2 are in the same post) 19) fhair frenchbraid → Anto's Firefly 20) fhair weddingtiara → Wings' ONT1201

21) fhair wreath → AH00B's Nadja 22) fhair mohawkspike → Newsea's Bad Kid Shaved

(those 2 are in the same post) 23) mhair dreadsband blue → 3t2 Skinny Dreads 24) mhair dreadsband dark → 3t2 Dreads Long

(those 2 are in the same post) 25) mhair dreadsband myrtle → 3t2 Modern Braids 26) mhair dreadsband maroon → Skysims' 128

(those 2 are in the same post) 27) mhair dreadsband tan → Nightcrawler's Nala 28) fhair dreadsband tan → Nightcrawler's Nala

(those 2 are in the same post) 29) fhair dreadsband myrtle → Nightcrawler's Sparks 30) fhair dreadsband maroon → Nouk's Thin Braids

(those 2 are in the same post) 31) fhair dreadsband blue → Nightcrawler's Lemonade 32) fhair dreadsband dark → 3t2 Dreads Long

(those 2 are in the same post) 33) fhair highponytail_brown → Simpliciaty's Reign 34) fhair highponytail_grey → Jujujam's Tia

(those 2 are in the same post) 35) fhair highponytail_red → Tankuz&Newsea's Chantal+Leona 36) fhair highponytail_blond → Anto's Audrey

37) fhair highponytail_black → S-Club's Eve 38) fhair ponypuff_green → Jujujam's Hot Milk Tea

(those 2 are in the same post) 39) fhair ponypuff_purple → Skysims' 132 40) fhair ponypuff_yellow → 3t2 City Side Braids

(those 2 are in the same post) 41) fhair ponypuff_blue → Wings' OS0814 42) mhair ponybandana_blue → Wings' OS0814

43) mhair rodhumble → Anto's Tyron 44) mhair david → Anto's Carlota

45) mhair ponytaillong_EP7 → Anto's Rocio 46) mhair longsimple_EP7 → Nightcrawler's Fusion

47) mhair modbangs → Newsea's Soledad 48) fhair messysideknot → Newsea's Bluebird

(those 3 are in the same post) 49) fhair hatbonnet_blue → Newsea's Lavender 50) fhair hatbonnet_pink → LeahLillith's Bling v2 51) fhair hatbonnet_beige → LeahLillith's Layla

That's all I think. Take care! And let me know if I linked something wrong I was kinda speadrunning it. Now I'm heading to bed (￣▽￣||)

#update

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i-amyou · 2 months

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I love calming music so I have a bunch of suggestions! :)

Blondie by current joys.

Cry by cigarettes after sex

Space song by beach house

Hotline Bling by Billie eilish

Kids by current joys

Symphonia IX by current joys

I know you by Faye Webster

Duvet by boa

Lights Camara action by Lana del Rey

Young by VACATIONS

Freaks by surf curse

Holocene by boniver

A detailed playlist like this deserves a detailed review haha.

Blondie/Kids/Symphonia :- they're so nice songs, I looped them endlessly. Just vibing and watering my plants. Perfect.

Cry :- I've been in love with this song for months now. Makes me melt down. So good. 🤌

Space song :- As the name says, it actually feels like floating in endless space. Softly wrapping me in sweet nothingness as I travel across the universe kinda energy🌌

Hotline bling :- Billieeeee!🙇‍♀️❤

I know you :- Her voice...and this flow of song is so different from what I usually hear. Lovely.

Duvet :- Added straight to my playlist of personal favorites.

Light Camera Action:- Lana....her name is enough 🙇‍♀️

Young :- It was already in my playlist for personal favorites. So good🌇

Freaks :- Brought an instant smile on my face. Need I say more? Beautiful.

Holocene :- Bon Iver. This man and his music is God tier 🤌

Thank you so much for sharing these songs 🎶 Anon! I discovered so many new great artists and their music. It's perfect and so refreshing! I love you🫶🥹

@illusionaurie I found your successor as music anon🤧😭

#ask

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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A Case of Identity pt 1

If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on

Sherlock Holmes Peter Pan crossover! Also this sentence starts with them being normal size and then halfway through suddenly they're able to 'gently remove ... roofs'? It's a sweet little scene, though.

We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic.

Weird to see here the dichotomy of Holmes the romantic and Watson the realist. So often depictions of Holmes have him being so factual and without whimsy, and yet the start of this story is the opposite. It's Holmes who has the 'flight of fancy' and finds the fascination in life, and Watson who is arguing that real life is common and without interest.

There is half a column of print, but I know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude.

Also Watson not showing any empathy here. 'Oh, domestic violence is so run-of-the-mill, it's so dull.' He's very jaded in this story. On one hand, I agree with him that there's no delight or artistry in domestic violence, on the other hand, he comes off as a bit callous here.

he had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller.

...I can't remember this story. It may be one of the ones I have not read before. But this made me blink and do a double take. Seriously? His false teeth? That's so oddly specific. Also, taking a moment for ACD to pat himself on the back there. I see what you're doing, sir.

He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it. "Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers."

Oh hai, Irene!

Weird that Holmes is displaying all the bling he got from a man he doesn't respect and didn't want any reward from.

Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de coeur.

Well, that certainly is a sentence.

When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates

I have never seen the word 'oscillate' used this much outside of a science textbook.

Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable

This is fascinating from the perspective of someone who has seen so may adaptations. 'easy courtesy for which he was remarkable' this isn't just a one time chance of Holmes being courteous. Watson himself finds Holmes' manner remarkable and to specify that it comes easily. Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of different Holmes adaptations, even the ones where he's rude, but this sentence makes it so clear that Holmes is polite and that it at least appears to come naturally to him.

for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr Windibank—that is, my father—took it all

I had a 'why do you refer to your father as Mr Windibank?' moment, then read the next few sentences and went 'oh'. Stepfamilies are complicated. Honestly, this bit reads like it could be an excerpt from an AITA post. Which leads to me thinking of modern day Sherlock hanging about on Reddit and asking really random questions before telling people that clearly the meaning of the cat hair on the third cushion is that OP's life is in imminent danger and they must at once leave the house and block their best friend on all social media.

I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about 60 pounds.

And the illusion of modernity is shattered. I bloody well wish. Hey inflation calculator, what's that in real money?

£6,033.44

(I put this around 1892, but that was my estimate based on when the other stories have been set. I might be out by a few years)

Yeah... I know she's living at home, but that's Holmes' estimate for any single woman, not only those being supported by their parents.

so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the time. Mr Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over to mother

Hello motive! Fancy seeing you here. I do not trust Mr Windibank at all, for all I may find his name amusing to say and read. This coupled with his insistence that nothing is wrong is very fishy. Mmhm. I am getting a distinct whiff of 'greedy, thieving stepfather' here with distinct notes of 'manipulative arsehole'.

Mr Windibank did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to prevent?

Please add 'controlling' to the list above, forthwith. Guy's a massive dick. Good for you, Miss Mary Sutherland for calling him out on it.

And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer.

Anyone else getting Cinderella vibes from this line? I'm surprised he didn't accidentally ruin the dress as well, or spill a bowl of rice into the cinders of the fire and make her pick them all up.

"I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr Windibank came back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball."

"Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a woman, for she would have her way."

I hate this guy. I really do. ACD was very good at writing men I loathe even when they haven't appeared in person.

Oh, and I remember this story now, btw. It's all coming back to me.

He wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle.

Abuse tactics really haven't ever changed, have they. The flags were as red in the 1890s as they are in the 2020s. Ugh. I hope this guy dies in a shipwreck too. Fingers crossed.

The fact that I keep reading the 'gasfitters' ball' as the 'gaslighters' ball' feels very fitting.

"What office?" "That's the worst of it, Mr Holmes, I don't know." "Where did he live, then?" "He slept on the premises." "And you don't know his address?" "No—except that it was Leadenhall Street."

In the immortal words of Gytha Ogg: Always get the young man's name and address. (And never trust a dog with orange eyebrows)

Mr Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to him.

Not suspicious at all. Absolutely normal behaviour. You should definitely swear on your holy book of choice to always be true to people 'whatever happens'. This is entirely rational and not worrying at all. Not a bit.

The flags, they are scarlet.

Mother was all in his favor from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him.

Not remembering all the details, but knowing the general gist of this story, this part actually makes me feel a bit sick. Does the mother know what's going on? I don't remember. If so, I think Miss Mary Sutherland needs to take her £100 a year and go on a world tour. Honestly, she should do that anyway, just... nausea.

"Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it."

Mary, Mary, Mary... no. Just no. This is not good or kind. This is weird and suspicious and controlling. I'm sure your wedding dress is lovely, but I cannot see it because all the red flags are in the way.

Above all, try to let Mr Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life.

Holmes giving excellent advice here. The trash took itself out.

"You are very kind, Mr Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back."

Oh Mary. I'm so sorry. You really should take the advice.

This absolutely could be written as a reddit post, btw.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #A Case of Identity

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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 years

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Gale Reviews: ML Season 5 episode 3 Destruction

(Spoilers below)

-Marinette was watching Alya's video on the ladybug and Alya caught her in 4K. She knew Marinette is worried and is sleeping over. This is good friendship

-Gabriel still being a bitch. Forcing the Kwami to help

-So learning about the rooster. He cant just copy the powers of other Kwami. So at least he isnt THAT broken.

-The kwami are totally trolling him. I love it.

-Xuppa my lovabale monkey child. KEEP TORTURING HIM

-The Kwami family defend themselves against the abusive Gabriel. HOW ABOUT YOU LEARN GABE!

-Nice Try Gabe. But their owner IS LADYBUG. Fu being smart made sure to say the guardian was LADYBUG. Look at that. Fu was actually being smart with that.

-Oh no, Gabe is using them like GOOGLE MAPS!!!

-Sabine in Pajamas... Nice

-Damn it, Tom is adorable. I will not interfere... for now Tom.

-Something seems off. What present?

-Did Marinette think this far ahead?

-OH DAMN! This is smart! They planned in the event Hawkmoth ever got one of them. Well played.

-Alya shows up and is like "I caught you creeping in 4K Hawky!"

-"Hey thats censorship." That made me giggle

-Xuppa my sweet boy. You are now my third fave kwami

-Now we at the Ice Rank

-And wipe out.

-The ice skating guy just like "Here you go sir". Like it isnt the villain of Paris.

-Gabe thinks he is being clever. Side note, this look he has is growing on me. Except the ears...

-This guy just took a selfie with Monarch like it will get him cred

-Hawk-Penguin? HE F***ING WISHES

-HE TWEETED IT. AMAZING

-And now the wax meuseum

-ITS A TRAP! Well done.

-42 Halfwit Street. This is the donkey drawing of oblivio for season 5

-And IT WAS THE REAL CHAT NOIR

-Oh cataclysm, and tied to him. THEY GOT HIM.

-TAKE THE MIRACULOUS OFF OF HIM NOW!!!

-the kwami think they are free. But its episode 3, way too early.

-LADYBUG STOP THE MONOLOGUE! You are leaving yourself open!

-Well at least he didnt try to escape during that.

-Damn, Gabriel ate a cataclysm to escape!

-Oooo, that looks painful! Damn. He deserves it

-You know what, I will give Hawky props, I didnt think he would actually do it.

-Oh s***, Chat noir feels guilt. Baby boy no. He doesnt count as people, dont feel bad.

-Well, this is Gabe's fault.

-SO THIS WAS ALL A FLASHBACK EXPLAINATION TO ALYA?!

-So marinette came up with a plan in case this happened. So this is what she did. Thats a clever plan. (I wont explain it, watch it, its clever)

-Simp noir is canon and a key part of the plan. Brilliant.

-It is cute to see this more playful side of Marinette, explaining the plans

-The kwami deserve a reward for their acting

-I love seeing how they planned the pose.

-So Marinette out here playing 4d chess. She only never expected Gabe to cataclysm himself. So I dont blame her.

-I am with Alya that plan was brilliant

-The alyanette juice is great

-Wait a minute. THIS HAPPENED BEFORE MULTIPLICATION?!

-OF COURSE IT DID, SO WAIT, EPISODE 26 OF SEASON 4, SEASON 5 EPISODE 1, AND 3 ALL HAPPENED IN THE COURSE OF A DAY?!

-Oh that is a nasty mark you got their Gabe. But you deserve it.

-Oh no the ring making process is really messed up

-HE MELTS THEM AND THEN MAKES THEM RINGS

-Nathalie, why are you helping him?

-Gabriel really making these rediculous bling for the sake of elaborate BS

-All to hide his cataclysm, he decided to look like a sterile tampon

-And The rings give him a new suit

-I do think the transformation leading to it looks cool. But its crappy costume

____________________________________________________________

OKAY I HAVE THOUGHTS!

So I think this episode was well written, it had drama, it had comedy, and it had lasting consequences.

I like that Gabriel didnt get out of this unscathed.

I do find it fitting in the timeline a bit weird... But aside from that. I dont mind it

8.5/10

I still think Evolution is the best episode of season 5 so far. But this one is pretty good.

I think leaks or not, I will be willing to watch the episodes and judge them on their merit, not just the leaks

#ml season 5 #ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladybug #monarch

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alex-unjust-vibing · 30 days

Note

My sweet little Angelfish, Lately I’ve been seeing my Aquarium half empty instead of half full. I just wanted to write you a brief email message to stand apart from the school of bottom feeders with possible PCB’s, and tell you from the depths of my heart and soul that I'm an honest, caring, sensitive (I can cry at will), nice person with all the wonders and joys that come with those sparkling qualities that men find so irresistible these days. I will pledge my undying love for you, buy your affections till you hurl, call you ten times a day, followed by as many text messages as my plan will allow for the month (I’m pretty sure it’s 1000…pretty sure..). I promise to be as clingy as humanly possible, whine about my problems, listen to yours, and tell you how to solve them. I love holding hands (with you preferably) while prancing on the beach, buying you an ice cream (unless you’re lactose intolerant), reciting poetry, and daily affirmations to you. I absolutely LOVE laughing, more laughing,…and even more laughing till you slap me silly. I love cutesy pet names for each other, grocery shopping, picking out wallpaper, babies, puppies, kittens, clouds, birds, bees, gardening, and did I mention laughing? I won’t and don’t play all those silly games. I don’t even own an X-box or a Wii. I'll worship the ground you walk on..even if it's all over me. Please, Please, Please respond. I longingly await your reply while staring at my email inbox so I can whisk you away to Europe, buy you a fancy suit, ask you to be my husband, and give you the biggest rock you’ve ever seen to wear and backhand your jealous friends with (bling, bling!). Do not try to resist the feelings between us. It’s futile. No more searching these dark, treacherous waters for your Nemo. You’ve FOUND him! Congratulations and two points for you! So let’s stop this ‘flip flopping around on the carpet like a fish out of water’ nonsense and do this 'My lil Mermaid'! xoxo <(Those are kisses and hugs to you. I'm not playing Tic Tac Toe.) Sincerely, Your soul mate

I am not a fish. Perchance you have mistaken me for another?

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

Adolescent Antichrist Christmas Special 2022

Christmas Special 2022

Lucifer held up two options for presents. “Which one do you think the Detective would like more?”

(Y/N) deadpanned. “Jewelry isn’t the way to go. You guys aren’t dating, and that bling isn’t her style.”

Lucifer sighed. “As usual, you’re correct.”

“How about something she’ll be able to enjoy or appreciate?” suggested (Y/N). “Like alcohol for having to deal with you all day?”

Lucifer gasped dramatically. “I’m a joy to work with.”

(Y/N) crossed their arms and raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to the Detective.”

Lucifer sighed. “Fine. Wine it is, then. I have some excellent ones at Lux.”

“Great.” (Y/N) glanced around at the mountain of bags they had accumulated during Christmas shopping. “Now, are we done? I think you have enough to spoil literally every person you know.”

“And I haven’t even gotten your presents yet!” said Lucifer cheerfully with a mischievous grin.

“Well, you can spoil me all you want,” said (Y/N), grinning. “You’re better at choosing gifts than my parents were.”

“Of course I am. They were just humans,” said Lucifer.

“Terrible ones, at that,” added (Y/N).

Lucifer smirked. He enjoyed knowing he was better than (Y/N)’s parents. Not just because they were humans and terrible people, but because it meant he was treating them how they deserved to be.

“Well, now that we have our shopping down, shall we head home?” asked Lucifer.

“Only if you carry the bags.”

“What?! But there are so many.”

“You’re the one with superhuman strength, not me.”

“Alright, what movie do we want to watch?” said Lucifer, throwing a blanket with snowflakes all over it at (Y/N), who was already curling up on the couch.

They shrugged. “I don’t know. You haven’t seen any Christmas movies, so any of them would be good.”

Lucifer sat down next to them as he scrolled. “Christmas at Pemberly? Apparently, it’s a recording of a play.”

(Y/N) made a face. “No way. They based it on Pride and Prejudice and completely botched the personalities of the characters.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Alright, then. How about A Charlie Brown Christmas?”

(Y/N) shook their head. “No, that’s for Christmas day. At least, that’s my own tradition. I’d escape while my parents hosted a party and watch it.”

“Then we shall wait for Christmas day,” declared Lucifer. He smiled. “It can become our tradition.”

(Y/N) shifted nervously, unused to an adult wanting to be involved in their life in a good way. “That sounds nice,” they said softly, a small smile playing on their lips.

Lucifer, for once, realized they were nervous and changed the subject. “Well, then, back to what we’re going to watch now. How about A Muppet Christmas Carol?”

(Y/N) brightened. “I love that movie.”

“Then A Muppet Christmas Carol it is,” said Lucifer, pressing play and leaning back on the couch.

As the movie played, Lucifer pulled the blanket up around himself as well. After a few minutes, he felt a pressure on his shoulder and glanced down. Unknowingly, (Y/N) had curled up against him under the blanket as they stared at the screen with bright eyes.

Lucifer smiled at the sight. He was glad they had become comfortable around him. Even if they were not open about it and held back any affection due to their anxiety, it was an honor for Lucifer to see that (Y/N) could relax around him. He could see them on guard most of the time, so seeing them like this was nice.

They were a sweet kid, after all, underneath their tough exterior. Lucifer didn’t mind their sass, though. He understood where it came from and enjoyed it. In a way, it made them more similar. They both were witty and enjoyed banter.

It made them seem even more like father and child. It made them even more like family.

Lucifer wasn’t ready to admit just how deep those feelings ran within him, but he could admit he wanted the best for (Y/N). He could admit he wanted them to succeed in life and would do his best to make sure they got all the opportunities and help they needed in order to do so. Their biological parents had not protected them and let them grow. Lucifer would be a proper parent guardian to (Y/N).

Lucifer lifted a hand and ran a hand gently over their head comfortingly, though he was not quite sure why. (Y/N) didn’t respond and just scooted closer. They were rather like a cat, so comfortable and safe that they could actually let themself enjoy affection. Their eyes closed as they listened to the movie play, already having memorized most of the songs over the years.

Lucifer smiled as he watched them. This was the (Y/N) he wanted to help: the kind, sweet kid who deserved the world.

I swear I will always be there for you, he thought.

“Merry Christmas, Lucifer,” murmured (Y/N) quietly.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” said Lucifer, holding them close.

Taglist:

@repostingmyfavs

@sammyscreencaps-13

@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

#adolescent antichrist #lucifer tv #lucifer x reader #lucifer fic #lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer x teen!reader #x teen reader #x teen!reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #x reader #christmas special #christmas

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seawitch62 · 2 years

Text

Worst Date Scenario

Jay Park x OC

Fluff

WC: .7k

Worst date scenario.

Jay Park

Bee was excited, Jay finally reached out to her today.

Realizing he's busy, with the new label, Won Soju, festivals appearances, music, working on the new music.

Still, it's been a minute since she last heard from him, even a text would have been nice, she sighs.

Tomorrow, what did he say?

"A date you won't forget!"

What romantic adventures has he got planned ?

"I have nothing to wear!"

Shopping expedition is needed,

Bee thinks to herself.

Bee hits the mall, clothing stores,

browsing for hours till she finds what is the perfect outfit.

"Shoes! I need new shoes!" She mutters.

Zeroing in on the shoe stores she finds the perfect shoes to match her newly acquired outfit.

"Handbag, I don't have one that is coloured coordinates with the outfit and shoes"

Next stop, looking for a bag to match, her determination pays off and she finds exactly what she wants.

Accessories, 'can't ever go wrong with new bling'

Last stop, the hairdresser, trim and colour and eyebrow wax.

After eating her take out, she grabbed at the mall, she pondered her purchases and was very pleased, telling herself, she did great and she will look 'hot'.

From experience Bee has discovered when Jay states a time to be ready fifteen minutes early.

He is not one to sit idly, movement is the name of the game. Not lacking in conversation skills, he can keep the chat alive, animated hand gestures come part and parcel with his dialogue.

Knowing this Bee keeps herself abreast with the news and other happenings, one never knows what topics may arise.

A vehicle pulls up, just as she suspected fourteen minutes early, one last glance in the mirror, happy with her reflected image, she leaves her cozy flat, locking the door behind her and heads toward the car.

The man holding the door open for her, Kwon as she simply refers to him, closes the door as she seats herself in the car.

Jay greets her with a smile, and immediately starts chattering.

Cursory questions "how are you? What have you been up to?"

Followed by lengthy discussions about his happenings.

Suddenly he changes the subject

"I have a present for you"

"Wow thank you" she replies with a warm smile.

Jay passes her a gift bag, intrigued as to what he may have got her, she looks into the bag.

The first thing she notices is the pattern on the material.

It's exactly the same as the pants he is wearing.

"How sweet" she tells herself

With exuberant delight she yanks the item out of the bag.

It's a pair of pants.

The pants are a twin set to those he is wearing. 'So romantic, matching outfits'

Dizzy with happiness, she reaches over, arms wrapping around him, "I love them thank you".

She is rewarded with a grin.

Bee's mind is running around in circles, they have been driving for a while now, where are they going?

Jay is excited, hyper even, but when is not!

"Your gonna fucking love the surprise, you will not fucking forget it, I promise!" He states with certainty.

Music fills the vehicle, Bee is as happy as a bird with a worm.

Anticipation slowly mounting, what else does he have in store? Romantic picnic? A hike while they walk hand in hand?

She has no clue, but she is eager for the answer.

As if fate had heard , the vehicle stopped.

Kwon opens the door and Jay leaps out of the vehicle.

"Come on," Jay tells her impatiently.

Bee exits the vehicle, only to notice people surrounding Jay with greetings, she notices they are wearing the same pants as Jay and the ones he gifted her.

Confused she looks around,

'Where the hell are we?' she ponders.

'It looks like a farm'

Jay is busily chatting away, then he looks at Bee.

"Welcome to Won Soju Farm"

"Grab your pants!"

"Let's get to work!"

"Work?" She utters.

Smiling from ear to ear, Jay saunters off with the crowd that greeted his arrival.

Looking around she realizes he is not joking, this is indeed a farm.

He wants or expects me to work on his farm!

Dejectedly, she grabs the pants and follows Jay.

He is right; she muses this is one date she will never forget.

#jay park fic #Jay Park fanfics #aomg scenarios #Jay Park × OC #worst date scenario fic #jay park date fic #jay park fanfic #jay park scenarios #jay walker #h1ghrmusic jay park #aomg jay park #jay park #jaebeom park x oc #jaebeom fanfiction #jaebeom x reader #jaebeom imagine #jaebeom scenarios

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siberat · 1 year

Note

lingere prompt Starscream, please

Sorry for the delay!! Here ya go!

............ ................ ..................

Oh our dear ‘Screa/mer. So, what exactly happened? Did the end of the war and his new title of High Chancellor go to his head? No. It went to his waistline. Seeing that rations were not as strict as in war, Stars/cream had the free time (when not scheming or plotting that is) to kick back and indulge his almost forgotten sweet tooth. Plus, now that he did not have to perform routine training because of the lack of need to kill/fight/all that, he found that lounging around his personal tower was a nice evening spent in.

And this red and white flier took to ordering take out. All he would do was text this special number with the words ‘Feed Me’ as if he was Aud/rey 2. Was he that lazy? No, for he did some work: he put on the show! So, after the text was sent, he flicked away the device and pried his much wider aft out of his chair and walked to the wash racks, belly jiggling all the way. Showers were also relaxing, especially now that the renovations were finished, and his stall was widened. The chubby mech found it easier to be able to turn around and maneuver in. Pus, the solvent head disconnected so he could lift his flab rolls and clean them easier (as well as other areas. Like his pedes).

Once all dried off, the flier would gawk and preen at his now super shiny reflection for way too long, then go to a closet to pick out what he was gonna wear. He had multiple choices but ended up choosing a new one. This one was very skimpy in cloth material, but very heavy on the bling-bling. The top consisted of sequenced triangles cloth that covered his chest. This garment tied around his back and over his neck via a string of aqua colored gems (real, of course). The top was embedded with circular reflective, dangly decorations that swayed and reflected the light when he walked.

The bottoms were composed of a long, see-through skirt type thing, but wasn’t full: it just had material in front and in back. Of course, intricate gold-lined patterns lined what little fabric the bottoms had. The waist band was rather thick, though it swelled out to make room for his belly, and it was covered in sequence (however, you can’t quite see it since his belly tends to droop over it- when he moves just right, you can get a glimpse of it around his love handles) Just why does this See/ker adore sequence I don’t know, ask him! The whole ensemble had a blue motif to it- you know, the color of royalty.

His legs were wrapped with crisscrossed shiny fabric and long gloves covered his arms to his elbows. Arm bangles, gold in color and studded with jewels snaked around his upper arm, snugging the chub that recently accumulated there. Shear fabric attached to his wrists and draped around to his back. Now, this costume contained a lot of jewelry. Some would say it was over the top; slag-most would say it’s over the top. Stars/cream disagrees. His fingers are riddled with rings with the biggest diamonds he could find. Worn around his neck is more flashy rocks. And yes, his wings were decorated with rings clipping around the thinner tips as well. The best jewelry worn, though, was the one that encompassed his belly.

And his belly was ample; spilling out in a giant, round shape that was as soft as a pillow when not stuffed so full. But this… belly bangle? Not sure what you would call it, but a gold cord wrapped around his midsection just below his cockpit, and more smaller gold chains would droop from the main one, wrapping his belly in a crisscross lattice pattern. They, like the rest of his décor, ended in shiny rhinestones that twinkled ever so pretty in the bright lights of his room. Now, normally this would be more free-flowing, but now, seeing as they were embedded in a layer of soft flab, they were rather stationary. In fact, his rotund paunch resembled stringed ham.

After yet another long adoring session in front of his full-length mirror-wait- the only thing that tares this flier from ogling himself (and kneading his own belly) is the sound of knocking at his door. After giving an excited hum of approval, Starsc/ream struts toward his door: the sound of his bedazzled outfit chiming as he sashayed to retrieve his meal. He hoped the ‘delivery mech’ appreciated his outfit- and the dancing classes he took to be able to jiggle this highly decorated belly in such a sensual manner. He does, contrary to what other’s think, put some effort into things.

He palmed the door open and gave a cheeky grin.

‘Metal/hawk. How nice to see you.” The See/ker beckoned the flabbergasted mech in. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting while I slipped into something more appropriate.” His servo’s rubbed over his swollen belly as he eyed the huge bag of food. “Come in…. come in. I am sure you are excited to have the honor of filling this belly up with such rich food. But of course, I must show you what I have been up to…”

#chubformers #chubformers lingerie prompt #siberat ask game

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misterpuzzles · 1 year

Text

Tale Of The Pumpkin King

"Hey, Mr. Devil,

wanna go for a drink?

You just change into a coin

and our plan is kerplink".

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

"Alrighty, Jack,

a shilling it is!

Get me something potent,

something tasty, with fizz".

*snap*

*POOF*

PUMPKIN-BEAN, PUMPKIN-BOUND,

PUMPKIN-BOOM, PUMPKIN-BIND!

This is The Tale Of The Pumpkin Kind.

PUMPKIN-TRAM, PUMPKIN-TRAIN,

PUMPKIN-TRUCK, PUMPKIN-TRUE!

Watch out, or you could be a pumpkin too.

Now, Jack put The Devil

in a purse with a cross

and The Devil got stuck

with old Jack as his boss!

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

"Sorry, y'old cooter,

but you'll do as I say.

I'd like the day I die

to be a much later day".

*snap*

*POOF*

PUMPKIN-PEAK, PUMPKIN-POKE,

PUMPKIN-POND, PUNKIN-PERK!

This is The Tale Of The Pumpkin Jerk.

PUMPKIN-CREAK, PUMPKIN-CRICK,

PUMPKIN-CRAM, PUMPKIN-CREW!

Watch out, or you could be a pumpkin too.

"Alright, alright, alright.

Immune-from-death for a year.

Now, you've had your fun.

Get me the heck outta here"!

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

And so, Jack let him go

and the seasons crept on,

and the year winded down

like the dusk into dawn.

*snap*

*POOF*

PUMPKIN-SWELL, PUMPKIN-SWOON,

PUMPKIN-SWOLE, PUMPKIN-SWEET!

This is The Tale Of The Pumpkin Cheat.

PUMPKIN-GRIT, PUMPKIN-GREAT,

PUMPKIN-GRAND, PUMPKIN-GREW!

Watch out, or you could be a pumpkin too.

"Hey, Mr. Devil,

wanna climb trees with me?

I found some ripe apples.

We could share, easily".

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

"Alriiiiiight, Jack,

what harm could there be

in swinging from branches

like two chimps in a tree"?

*snap*

*POOF*

PUMPKIN-FLIP, PUMPKIN-FLEE,

PUMPKIN-FLAP, PUMPKIN-FLY!

This is The Tale Of The Pumpkin Guy.

PUMPKIN-HUM, PUMPKIN-HUNT,

PUMKPIN-HURT, PUMPKIN-HUE!

Watch out, or you could be a pumpkin too.

Now once the Devil climbed up,

Jack: took out his knife,

carved a cross in the trunk

and said a prayer for his life.

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

"Darn you, Jack!",

The Devil said, seeing red,

"This time, ten more years,

I won't snip your life thread".

*snap*

*POOF*

PUMPKIN-MIST, PUMPKIN-MINT,

PUMPKIN-MAST, PUMKPIN-MIGHT!

This is The Tale Of The Pumpkin Knight.

PUMPKIN-THRILL, PUMPKIN-THRIVE,

PUMPKIN-THROW, PUMPKIN THREW!

Watch out, or you could be a pumpkin too.

*BA-BA-BA-BOO

BA-BA-BA-BOOM-BOOM CRACK*!

A freak bolt of lightning

struck Jack!

Woo-woo-woo-woo.

And up to Heaven, he flew,

but God was all, "Sh'yeah, uh-- N'YOO"!

AND DOWN TO HELL, HE FELL,

and The Devil sighed, "Well...".

*snap*

*POOF*

And Jack's soul didn't enter

to The Devil's stockade.

For, shady as it was,

still, a bargain had been made.

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

Deathless and lifeless--

realmless, too (I'm afraid),

for the the bolt'd caught fire

and his body'd been splayed.

*snap*

*POOF*

"Here, you old scoundrel,

at least take this",

and he tossed Jack a piece

of The Infernal Abyss.

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

"A hot piece of coal?

How the? Who the? What now?"

but something about it warmed him

and he sang... this eerie vow:

*snap*

*POOF*

"PUMPKIN-BLIND, PUMPKIN-BLONDE,

PUMPKIN-BLIMP, PUMPKIN-BLING!

Mine is The Tale Of The Pumpkin King.

PUMPKIN-NEED, PUMPKIN-NOD,

PUMPKIN-NICE, PUMPKIN-NEW!

Watch out-- Watch out-- Watch out--

Watch out-- Watch out-- Watch out!

Watch out-- Watch out-- Watch out--

Watch out-- Watch out-- oh, WATCH OUT!

*pant, pant, pant*

'Cause I'm a'comin' for you!"

Breezes ain't so breezy

feeling low in highlands

and the coal was always hotly

leaving ash on his hands...

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

Jack found the perfect pumpkin

for safely toting the coal.

He said, "Oh, perfect pumpkin,

perfect place for my soul".

*snap*

*POOF*

And he slashed a few holes

so that the light might escape

and propped that perfect pumpkin,

'top the span of his cape.

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo.

Now every Halloween

we carvin' pumpkins in style

just like good ol' Jack Of The Lantern,

my favorite holiday miser by a mile.

*snap*

WATCH OUT!

*POOF*

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nobully · 1 year

Note

[ reassure ] uvu

the intimacy of hands. | [ reassure ] – for the sender’s muse to place their hand over the receiver’s in a moment of stress and squeeze reassuringly.

Surely, somewhere out there, Wang Yi thinks to himself, Nicolette's having the same problem.

He stares at the assortment of items for sale in the stationery store and gives a long sigh. Sure, buying writing utensils is a no brainer for a scholar, but he knows better than to just give a bundle of pens. The more you honed your craft, the more sensitive you were about details. Zhilan's not the type to openly voice his complaints about anything, but damn if Wang Yi wasn't going to get him something he enjoyed writing with.

For one thing, the Liyuen script Zhilan's familiar with best has intricate characters, so he'd definitely prefer something with a thinner tip. 0.7 or 0.5mm both seem too thick, especially with how many notes the scholar can take in one session, so he looks for 0.4mm or less. 0.38mm is typically the sweet spot, but Zhilan has a few pens like that already, so he should aim for something slightly different...

Wang Yi's spent the good part of an hour staring down the pen selections (turning down three offers of help from store employees along the way) before his eyes trail over to the fountain pens. Of course, he'd used one in school too—but it was one of those cheaper models with disposable ink cartridges. He remembers that Zhilan's more used to a brush and might find the Western equivalent interesting—but if that was the case, he wants to buy him something nice.

A good fountain pen could last for years, if not generations. Plenty of modern high-end models used cartridges as well, so Zhilan wouldn't have to worry about carrying around bottles of ink. He could also get a mix of permanent and water-based ones, depending on how durable the guy wanted his notes. His eyes skim past the models, skipping past the ones with unnecessary bling for something practical and classy.

Not this one...not that one either...

This one has brass, that's too heavy...that other one's too showy...

And then he spots it: the perfect mix of past and present, a fountain pen with a retractable nib, its body adorned with neat stripes of traditional mother-of-pearl maki-e that glimmer in the light. The body is a little fatter than he expected, but he realizes the girth might be more comfortable for a guy used to holding brushes and besides—it's lightweight enough not to be a bother.

Wang Yi takes a closer look at the sticker on its side and blanches.

What the hell is this price tag?!

He bursts out the doors of the shop the next second, fingers tapping furiously on his phone. Whatever, there were ways to get this without breaking the bank...too much.

***

On the morning of Zhilan's birthday, he holds out the neatly wrapped box to his friend and clears his throat nervously.

' So I got you this pen—not just any one I mean, but a fountain pen. The tip's retractable so you can store it when not in use—plus it comes with a pen holder, so you don't have to worry if you drop it by accident. There's instructions for changing the ink inside if you've never used one before. '

' It's a brand I've seen in my world...their quality's solid and I picked a F nib on purpose so you can write really fine lines. It's also really smooth but...um... '

He shuffles in place and looks away.

' It's not new, though this one's barely used! I, I tested it to make sure it was working before I packed it. But uh, if you don't like it I'll get you something else... '

The words trail off. There's a hand resting over his own, which Wang Yi realizes have tensed around the box so much that they're wrinkling the wrapping paper.

' Sh—shoot, I didn't mean to crush it, uh— '

"Wang Yi." Zhilan's soft voice brings him back to reality, and he looks up like a guilty schoolboy caught breaking the rules.

' Y-yeah? '

"It's okay." Zhilan smiles at him and squeezes. You're okay.

And with that, Wang Yi relaxes until his fingers uncurl around the box, until he sees Zhilan accept it from his hands, until the scholar's unwrapped the thing and holding up his new pen to the light. The raden bands sparkle just like he'd hoped they would under the sun.

He exhales and finally breaks into a smile.

' Happy Birthday, Xiao Lan. '

#archaictold #drabbles;#happy birthday!! :3 #it's technically 12AM so i can gib u this now!!#excuse my nerding out about pens #i..actually didn't have zhilan speak too much in this one because it's YOUR gift lol you get to pick the feedback sjdfjsjfd #answered;

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the-hobgoblins · 1 year

Photo

[ LOXLEY’S BIRTHDAY PARTY DISCORD ROUNDUP ]

Where: Borgin & Burkes, Knockturn Alley Who: Oz & Pax When: 02 August 2020

@paxton-aeterna

Oz was standing in his bedroom adjusting his eyeliner in front of an absurd gilded mirror on the wall (which, no joke, looked like it could come alive at any moment and transport your reflection to the Phantom's underground lair) when he noticed someone enter and grinned. "Oh goodie! Did ya fetch one a them for me?" He nodded toward the drinks in the person's hands.

“Hi.” Pax sloshed a little drink on the sleeve of his dusty blue button-up. He'd picked the flannel because it was warm and soft and invited cuddling, which he hoped to cash in on later in the evening when people started to go horizontal, and also because blue was steadily becoming his new favorite color these days. With a little smile, he raised a glass from the doorway. “The family’s apple pie moonshine. I thought—we haven’t really had a chance to talk since we met, have we.”

Oz smirked, and it was near-reverential in its familial resemblance. “‘Family moonshine’ been known to loosen some tongues, has it?” Spindly legs in shiny patent leather leggings decreased the spatial gap between them tenfold with one wide, deliberate step. He took the proffered cup gratefully, letting the fleeting skin-contact linger; Maeko certainly hadn’t told him not to, so why wouldn’t he?

Oz took a hefty, blindly-trusting swig, and hummed. It was good! Sweet. “Nothin' like a nice ’n sexy talk at a party…” he teased, but his smile was encouraging. He flopped sideways onto the hap-hazardously-made bed, his legs from the shins-down hanging off it, somehow managing not to spill. “…fire away!”

Paxton, feeling a little warm, unbuttoned his flannel to reveal a too-shrunk undershirt and winking cubic zirconia in his navel. After a moment’s consideration, he folded cross-legged onto the bed facing Oz. Maeko had explained him. But Paxton hadn’t stopped pondering the question of Oz’s palms. He wanted to hear Oz talk about himself. “Where’d you come from?” Pax asked, leaning on his own knees. It was an open-ended sort of question, so classically Paxton.

“Now I can’t possibly believe the accent doesn’t give me away…” Oz drawled, knowing perfectly well that it did, and that this wasn’t the answer Paxton was looking for. Oz wasn’t intending on being withholding, either, but it did give him a minute to think, take a swig of his drink. His eye caught on a flashing rainbow glint of bling at Paxton’s navel as Oz’s gaze traversed up the length of the body sat beside him; it would be so easy to reach out and touch, distract, deflect—the unbuttoned flannel was almost an invitation.

That was Oz’s instinct, so much like his half-sister’s save the paths that brought them here, to these unexpected moments of vulnerability and the choice of who to show them to. If there was one thing Oz had observed in the time he’d settled firmly into Maeko’s life, it’s that Maeko had many acquaintances; she was enigmatic and well-liked. But she only had a handful of her people. Paxton was one of them.

Oz took a breath. He reached out and traced a finger around the metal piercing Paxton’s skin—because Oz was a twenty-three-year old with a mostly-developed brain and he could multitask, thank you very much—while he looked up into the pretty pale blue of Pax’s eyes, sheltered by long blonde lashes, hovered above him.

Paxton grinned. “Right. Well, maybe I jus’ want to hear more of i—” A light brush against his abdomen. Pax paused in surprise. He looked down at Oz pointedly, just shy of being shy, wondering if in the low light Oz could see the heat Pax felt spreading across his face.

“You’ve been around the safehouse in Putney here 'n there now, haven’t ya? Enough to know a bit about what hedges’re like?”

Pax took a long, slow drink while he tried to slow the ratcheting of his heartbeat. “Um,” he said, slowly. “Somewhat I do. You’re all—very interesting. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Why?”

Oz smirked as he met Paxton’s look, bemused. “Ha—‘interestin’ is a nice word for it…” People from Mae’s world tended to look down on the safehouse scene—the ones that actually knew it existed, that is. But Oz suspected Pax wasn’t like that.

With mild concern, Paxton noticed his drink was empty. He gestured uselessly around with the empty glass for a bit before leaning over to put it on the floor. When he turned back to Oz, he felt—like he couldn’t decide how to sit now. He didn’t know where to look. Maeko is laughing at me somewhere, Paxton thought, horribly, before settling on lying down next to Oz and looking politely at the ceiling while he listened.

Oz rested his cheek in his palm, elbow propped up on the mattress while he laid on his side, watching Paxton shift all his long lovely gangly limbs into a more relaxed position, obviously just a little bit flustered. It was, unfortunately, entirely delectable.

He tried to divert his thoughts elsewhere. “Couple reasons…” he began, dragging the pad of a finger around the rim of his glass, the bottom of which rested with a slight indent on the mattress between them. “…firstly—if ya’ve heard one hedge’s story, ya might’as well’ve heard ‘em all…” Oz’s eyes, ringed in a dark bronze liner, looked sad at the truth of this statement, but he smiled lightly anyway.

He drained the rest of his drink and, following Pax’s example, set it down before returning to his lounging position, this time on his stomach with his chin in both hands. “…but no point’n dwellin’ on all that. I mainly asked ‘cause it’s good ya have some context, for what a safehouse can be like...see, the one I learned at, back home? It—wasn’t quite like that, not really, it was...Harsher conditions, ya know? More ta prove, more ta lose…” The grin Oz cracked here looked like a wince and he scratched at the back of his neck. “…does this all sound loony, or am I makin’ any sense?”

“I’ve got you. So you left them—left Ireland?" Paxton guessed. He shrugged a little, as though to express that Oz didn't have to break the whole tale of why if he didn't really want to.

Oz smiled gratefully at the reprieve he was given from rehashing some of the more unpleasant details. This man was, fuck—kind. Kinder than Oz had been conditioned to believe he deserved. “Exactly!” he agreed, propping up on his elbows. “…change a scenery, change a companions—plus, I couldn’t really afford the safehouse rent over there anymore…”

“And then—the courtroom. An' then Maeko let you in.” There was no mention of any parents. And through experience with Maeko, Pax had learned that if there was no mention, it was for a good reason. He decided not to ask. He also didn’t ask why Oz wasn’t at Hogwarts. He knew enough now to wonder if asking a hedge witch something like that would be in poor taste.

There was a rolled joint on the bedside table and Oz stretched out a long arm to grab it and draw it to his mouth. He gave a eureka! snap, which served also to spark the end of the joint, and then he said, “Now that is a story! Ya know when I first showed up here—it was a few days before Christmas—Mae told me flat out I could stay through the New Year an’ that’s it…”

Paxton didn’t ask about a lot of things. It had been years, but he remembered what the process had been like to befriend Maeko—a lot of waiting for details to slip, of noting commentary passed off as sharp-edged jokes—and he wasn’t sure yet that this man wasn’t the same sort of creature. Instead Pax nodded to himself and stretched out a little more. His eyes darted between Oz’s face and the fringe of curls spilling onto his forehead. Fingertips itching, Pax began twirling a piece of his own hair, letting the silence hang comfortably.

Oz laughed good-naturedly and took a drag, fragrant smoke misting around them on the bed like a dream-haze, and then held out the joint toward Paxton before rolling over to lay on his back, drawing his arms up in sharp acute angles to rest his head in his hands. “…did she tell ya we smashed up the place proper? Guess that sounds odd but it was, I dunno—soothin’, in a way? For her. Therapeutic, or somethin’—an’ here I am still…” He fell into a comfortable silence, remembering.

"Well, I'm glad you picked here." Paxton’s fingers lightly touched Oz’s arm in reassurance. “S’not just her alone against the world anymore. Not so scared as when I knew her at school,” Pax murmured, hand hovering in the air between them as he debated with himself, then reached up further to brush his fingers through the curls on Oz’s forehead. Nerves thrummed in his belly.

Pax’s hesitant touch pulled Oz back to present—light, tickling. A butterfly kiss. Oz smirked, holding his position, but he glanced over at Pax and asked curiously, “Was she? Scared, I mean…I guess I’m havin’ trouble picturin’ it, is all. Mae always acts so tough an’—and clever…”

And there it was. The fingers gently raking through his hair did make him stutter like an idiot, but Oz hummed anyway and nuzzled into the touch like a cat.

Given permission, Paxton continued to idly investigate Oz’s hair, listening to him talk. Feeling its coarseness, winding his fingers around individual spirals, the tension drained from Paxton’s limbs as if he were the one being soothed. He half-lifted himself on an elbow to take his sweet time on three long, greedy drags, passing it back with a massive exhale from deep in his belly. “She was always that, too,” he breathed.

Pax’s head thudded softly back to the bed, coming to rest against Oz’s side beneath his raised arm. “I’d tell you about myself, but she’s prob’ly told it all already.”

“No, please, I’d love ta hear about you…Maeko paints her pictures of before with a real specific brush, ya see—plenty of colorful details but missing quite a bit a the art a things, I think…”

Pax thought about what Oz’d said for a while, and subsequently forgot that he was supposed to talk about himself then, but that was okay. The silence fell comfortably for a second time as they passed the joint back and forth, fingers brushing, and anyway Paxton was pretty comfortable, and Oz’s side was really warm. His room was kind of nice—although Pax didn’t really lift his head to see, but if he looked diagonally, just skimming over the top of Oz’s stomach, he could glimpse his knees and shoes in the enormous mirror sat against the wall. Along with some photographs tacked up, he noticed. Some of them moved and some of them didn’t. And if Pax looked down his chin past the foot of the bed he could see a pile of clothes on a chair in fabrics and textures that looked as if they’d be nice to touch.

The seams of the sides of their bodies seemed to zip closed the longer they were laid there, and Oz found it increasingly difficult not to just cut to the punchline and pull Paxton all the way on. Oz was the type of cuddly person who got needy for affection when it was readily given out—and Pax definitely gave physical affection away readily.

“I love my family,” Pax said aloud, suddenly, as if several minutes hadn’t passed by. “Still live with them. But I work here. You know that, though. At school I was alright with divination stuff, you know, cards and crystals and all that. But last Thursday I helped a mum whose husband is at Flourish and Blotts? She didn’t really know much about all that. She likes her muggle life. Loved a magical delivery, though. Little girl. Eight point five kilograms..”

They were talking with words again and Oz tried hard—like, very hard, okay!—to listen, and to be good. Because as much as he wanted to write this whole thing off as just A Pressing Matter to Take Up with His Dick, Oz had to quietly admit that this person was actually…fascinating. Charming, really. Oz wanted to unwrap the person that was Paxton Brady in a number of intriguing ways…Also, Maeko would surely eviscerate him if he acted in any way untoward, toward her Bestest Old Friend.

So—that was that, was it not? Oz’s fingers flexed from where they were curved behind the base of his skull, and he recrossed his legs—toward Pax, but only because one of them was falling asleep. Kinda.

Pax took another pensive drag, exhaling and shrugging, shouldering closer into Oz’s side. “An' I’m planning on getting another piercing soon. I’ve saved up, but I haven’t decided. Nipples or tongue, d’you think?”

Shit. Paxton Playing-Coy Brady decided to talk about his fucking, prospective piercings, for fuck’s sake, and—well. Oz had tried, right? He glanced down at where some strands of blonde hair were caught against his shirt, taking note of the way they rose and fell with his diaphragm.

Paxton tilted his head back a bit, just enough to meet Oz’s eyes. He wished he had more drink to offer Oz. He wished he’d brought the bottle into the room with them. Pax’s eyebrows drew together, little wrinkles forming between them and across his forehead as he thought about it, mildly dismayed. He’d have liked to stay there a while, and now at some point he’d have to leave to get more moonshine.

An invitation was an invitation was an invitation, and when Pax tilted his head back and caught him in that solar-beam inquisitive gaze, Oz failed to come up with a quippy innuendo to retort.

Instead he just said, “I…” and then inched downward—not far—to press his mouth against Paxton’s slightly-parted lips. He could taste the sweet-spice of the moonshine and chased more of it with the tip of his tongue, angling his body toward Paxton’s on the bed, with one elbow braced upright on the mattress, while the other hand reached out to rest momentarily on Pax’s hip before sweeping up the length of bare skin, fanning out to more fully feel, the tattoo on his palm pressed against warm flesh as if in greeting; HELLO. The tips of his fingers just barely reached past the hem of the crop.

When he pulled back, his lashes fluttered heavily, kiss-drunk, and Oz said, “Sorry, s’just—figured we were both thinkin’ it. But feel free ta tell me ta fuck off…” He flopped back onto his back, jostling the springs in the mattress, a warm-boozy feeling in his belly. Cheekily, he added, “…an’ I think the answer to your question depends on whether ya wanna give or receive the majority a the—ah. Associated sensations…”

Paxton didn’t tell Oz to fuck off, for starters. When Oz flopped back down beside him, making the bed squeak and jolt, Pax was just sort of shivering way too much, and his eyes were way too wide, and he had the look of someone who had been about half a million kilometers away before being propelled back to the present at light speed. The cheek of Oz’s tone made all of Pax’s breath leave his lungs in a rush, and his head spun, and he clumsily raked a hand through his own hair before he managed to get out, “Oh, go on.”

And then immediately, enthusiastically headbutted Oz’s shoulder while turning to drape himself against Oz's side.

One arm wound up wedged awkwardly underneath him. Pax could deal with that, no problem. He could deal with his arm falling asleep, because in shifting down to kiss him, the movement against the bedcovers beneath them had caused Oz’s shirt to hike up just a bit, exposing a good inch of skin just below where Pax’s other hand came to grip Oz’s flank and turn him so they were face-to-face. And that skin was begging to have fingers trail over it. Just begging.

Oz was very, very warm against him, and Paxton immediately set to work getting their legs helplessly tangled, Oz's entire body pressed against Pax, and hell—all that warm skin was now under his fingers, a small noise in Pax’s throat as he grinned and trailed them lightly over the small of Oz’s back, up a little further under the fabric of his shirt.

In fact, Pax proceeded to maneuver himself so physically close as if to actually burrow himself inside of Oz’s body by like—osmosis, or something. It was very fucking endearing, and Oz couldn’t help the playful smile that tugged at his cheeks as he nuzzled his nose against the patch of skin in the hollow of Paxton’s throat, breathing in the smell of him; a sultry trace of sweat, mixed with something floral and woodsy and bright—like those heavily-scented oils that came in tinctures, that hedges used to anoint candles and rainwater and body parts before spells. It was intoxicatingly heady and struck him with such disorienting deja vu, that Oz was inclined to open his mouth and run his tongue along the spot to better taste it.

He didn’t, though, because Paxton had fingers trailing up under his clothes, light and curious, and it didn’t tickle, exactly; it was more like nerve endings were alighting in the trails being traced, so that what started as a sort of laugh came out as a low, rumbling, encouraging hum.

All nerves had evaporated with the weed and the alcohol and the certainty of touch; this feeling, Pax knew what to do with. “Come on,” he said, being very sweet about it, bringing his hand to the back of Oz’s neck. Something thudded loudly on the floor above them, to muted cheers, and the ceiling shook slightly. “Kiss me again, then.”

Pax’s tone was sweet and cheeky and unexpectedly assured, and that was just—yeah, it was totally irresistible, there wasn’t any other word for it.

And Oz was happy to oblige. “Oh, darlin’…” he drawled, his tone delighted with just a hint of danger as he reached up and tugged lightly on a strand of blonde hair, before trailing a few fingers along the long angular line of Paxton’s jaw, tucking up just under his chin. Oz smirked. “…as ya wish.”

And then he did kiss him again, deeper this time, feeling really quite pleased with himself for managing to remember such a clever and, he assumed, contemporary Muggle film reference at a time like this (Piper had had them on an ‘Epic Quests and Fairy Tales’ kick lately for the residence’s collective Film Education Journey); and actually, now that he thought about it, Paxton was even somewhat reminiscent of Buttercup.

The feel of kissing, wet and soft, hot and fucking gorgeous, was like new every time. Paxton would never ever get used to it, and he didn't want to, either. He loved the way Oz’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, the dull chafe of his stubble against Pax’s chin, the way he had to pull away to take in a breath every so often, and the pleased noises he made when Paxton did something he liked. Nothing like kissing Maeko after all, Pax thought fuzzily, and then, horrified at his own brain, elected to turn it off.

Oz’s body trapped Paxton’s against the bed, hips rolling once and then pressing down over Pax’s at an angle as he moved. He pushed Pax’s already short crop top further up his chest, tugging his fingertips through the fine patch of dark hair that ran along Paxton’s sternum.

They rolled over somehow and Oz pressed Paxton into the mattress, his body a comforting weight bearing down. Pax loved doing that to others, and he usually did, loved to spread them out and kiss them at his own pace. This time, Paxton found himself abnormally free to just feel. He continued to trail his fingers up and down along Oz’s spine just to enjoy the little resulting shivers, and made happy, dirty noises into Oz’s mouth.

Oz’s stomach dragged against his as they shifted, and his hips canted against Pax’s crotch. "Ah–" Paxton tried to tell him, but he couldn't seem to stop kissing him long enough to make the words, so it came out as a moan, which was pretty much what he was trying to say anyway. "That’s–" Paxton gave up, let his head thunk back against the bed and closed his eyes, sliding a hand into Oz’s hair as he began his exploration under Paxton’s shirt. His top kind of got stuck under his armpits then, so he arched a little bit and wiggled until that was more comfortable, moving into Oz some more.

Morrigan had often told Oz that he was a slave to his own cavernous need, and that it made him weak. That he craved closeness so blatantly and desperately that he’d always give into it; it would blind his inhibitions like a drug habit he would never be able to kick. That he would burn himself all up—a smoldering wick wrapped in pliant, weeping wax—in his haste to pour himself into every pair of open hands he encountered.

And Oz liked to think, after all this time, that he had just a lick more common sense and self-control than all of that. But Christ if he wasn’t having a hard time remembering it right now, with Paxton Brady spread out like a piece of art on Oz’s bed beneath him, the wet way he kissed so languid and luxurious that it felt like decadence.

There was a dull thumping of music that could be heard distantly overhead, now, but the only sounds Oz could hear were the devastatingly pretty, breathy ones that were coming out of Paxton’s mouth. Oz wanted to spend hours pulling out every single one of those sinfully sweet sounds, trap them in a seashell like that tentacled sea witch from The Little Mermaid, just to hold it close and feel it thrumming between his palms.

He veered off to one side, tracing the shape of a half-remembered sigil on Pax’s peck, and then his hand caught on the peak of a nipple. He paused, hovering his hand there as he smiled against Paxton’s lips, and then used his other hand on the mattress to push himself up and off just a little, enough to talk. “Only one way ta know for sure about that piercing, ain’t there…?”

Oz stopped kissing him then, for some reason. Even though Pax chased after his mouth, he pulled away and started talking. “Wha–” Paxton said, somewhat stupidly. His body was informing him that it was not pleased with this stopping business.

And then Oz squeezed his fingers in an experimental pinch—not hard enough to hurt, but enough for Pax to feel it, to test sensitivity. “…how’s it feel?”

Pax didn’t know what to say. It was good—all of this was good, it was what he wanted, it was turning him on. Specifically, though, maybe the way Oz was touching him now was less good, but it was better than not having it, and he didn’t want Oz to stop—he just wasn’t so used to having all the attention on him, and no one had really tried this before, had they—

This whole thing was somehow different, this time, Paxton was realizing hazily. It felt like his whole body was hanging, suspended, waiting for whatever Oz would do next. Not unpleasant, but strange and unfamiliar. Paxton had kissed a lot of people. He wasn’t used to not knowing what he was doing, where they were going. It felt like a thought to explore in the morning, when he wasn’t so stoned.

“It’s good,” Paxton said, quickly, biting his lip. “But—it’s more like—” He leaned up until his face was buried in Oz’s neck and kissed him there, open-mouthed, so that he felt less vulnerable as he put his hand over Oz’s to guide him. “That,” he said, muffled and buried in the crook of his neck when Oz started rubbing little circles with his thumb instead, softer now, rolling a little bit, until Paxton sighed, “that.”

Paxton’s mouth opened over Oz’s pulse point and the heat of the sensation flickered low in his belly. The shift in the way Pax’s sensitive body responded to a slightly softer touch—more deliberate, less teasing—the way his breath ghosted warm and humid over Oz’s skin when he sighed, like fog over moonlit water…it was positively sublime.

Oz trailed his hand down the long line of Paxton’s side and traced those same circles with his thumb over Pax’s hipbone, dragging it right up against the denim hemline. He was going mad with how much he wanted to take Paxton Brady apart, inch by gorgeous inch; Oz needed to get his mouth on him, so sure that Pax would taste nectar-sweet on his tongue—

Mae’s best friend, her oldest friend. The one she nearly broke herself being at odds and apart from for so long… a needling voice reminded Oz’s in the back of his head as he trailed wet, hungry kisses along Pax’s jaw.

Kindly buzz the fuck off, he tried to quiet the voice, but it pressed on, chastising: …you really think she’d want her kindness repaid by you butting in on someone who’s hers?

Somehow Pax worked up the courage to reach a hand down so that he could feel it again, the hard line of Oz through his leggings, until Oz made a low noise above him. “Yeah?”

And Oz didn’t have a chance to contemplate his eminent guilt trip any further, because all at once Paxton’s hand was squeezing him lightly but purposefully over the very thin fabric of these dastardly leather leggings that he’d elected to wear, and all thoughts besides the warmth of Paxton Brady’s palm and the gentle curve of his fingers promptly exited Oz’s brain.

A choked-out noise climbed up his throat, before he managed to divert it into a humming affirmation: “Mmhmm…” He barely pressed his hips forward, further into the touch; a pulse of ambient magic rippled through the air, flickering the lights. Not what Oz was expecting, at all, but he sure as fuck wasn’t about to say no…

There was a sudden rush of warmth, like magic, like the feeling of a spell washing over him. Startled, Paxton ripped his mouth away from where he’d been molesting Oz’s jawline. But when he looked up, there was only Oz, and Oz’s blue, blue eyes. Something kicked hard in Paxton’s chest.

With a smirk, Oz rolled them back over again, sweeping an encouraging hand up the back of Paxton’s thigh, which was still all tangled up with his own legs.

And when they stopped moving again Pax was on top of Oz, hips fitted snugly to his. He leaned in for a sloppy, affectionate kiss to Oz’s cheek and pressed his thigh between Oz’s legs.

Then Oz said, “Howzabout you call the shots here, huh? Seems like ya wanna…”

“Anything you like,” Pax said, trying to be lighthearted about it, but it came out soft and serious.

This is happening, Pax thought, stunned. He’s letting me! Then it occurred to him that he wasn’t even sure what was supposed to happen next—what would it look like, if he made Oz come? If he even could? And if he did it wrong, if Oz didn’t like it—and most importantly—what would Oz even like?

Struggling to think through the haze—had they been kissing already for ten minutes? it could have been thirty? an hour?—Paxton considered what little he already knew about Oz, what he had learned in the last hour, Oz saying more to prove, more to lose. Paxton liked to think he had pretty good intuition, and his intuition told him Oz just needed to feel wanted.

So Paxton slid a hand around the back of Oz’s neck and anchored it in the curls on his nape, testing his grip as they kissed: if he tugged gently at Oz’s hair he could make him tilt his head back and hold it there, make his chest arch up, and leave damp spots and pink patches all over his neck while he enjoyed finding out what kind of little noises Oz would make here, or there.

Let it be stated for the record that this was all very fucking surprising.

It’s not like Oz would have tried to fool anyone into believing he was the type who could instinctively figure other people out, by any means. But Paxton Brady was a veritable puzzlebox, glorious in its perplexity. He wanted control of things, that much was clear. And Oz wasn’t picky about that sort of thing—in fact, he was rather well known for being adaptable, fitting himself into whatever mold was laid out before him, no questions asked. It’s what made him such a coveted tool in many-a honeypot that Morrigan had crafted over the years. He could—and would—be anyone, for anyone.

So yeah, Oz was more than happy to hand control over, wrapped up with a fucking bow, if that’s what Pax wanted. But in Oz’s experience, most people who enjoyed control were also controlling, and Paxton Brady was decidedly not that. Pax was unapologetically experimental, ravenous with curiosity and refreshingly lacking in a sense of higher agenda. For the first time in his life, Oz was actually kind of regretting the decision to forsake talking in favor of getting here.

Paxton shifted to adjust his newfound leverage, making himself comfortable, and pressed his hips down the way Oz had. “You feel so warm—” Paxton’s voice was rough and breathless. Talking was still too difficult.

As he moved against Oz he could feel his boxers sticking and sliding damp against him, and pressed tight against Oz like this it rubbed everywhere, dancing little sparks of sensation through all his nerves. Pax shivered again, made a little, involuntary sound. It was too good. And with a bit more soft maneuvering, he gently bullied Oz into spreading his legs so that he could fit between them.

And then he was keeping Oz’s mouth where he wanted him, bearing down on him warm and too eager and messy, leaving higher brain function behind. He felt like a bloody spaz. Any thought of what was supposed to happen went out the window, and he didn't intend to do anything on purpose. Everything was all muddled, sweet and hot and sudden and his body just reacted.

The simple, undeniable fact of this whole whirlwind ride was that Oz didn’t have any time or mental clarity to spare toward breaking things down rationally, or even to take amusement in the fact that he was essentially getting rubbed off through his clothes like a teenager in the back of someone’s car—which, under any other circumstances would have been an absolute gag—because every single time Paxton thrust himself against Oz’s erection in total fucking earnest, it sent sparkling trails of blinding colored light through Oz’s brain like fireworks whistling through the air, scattering every thought so that only a haze of heat and feeling remained.

It was just grinding from then on, really, just a slow push and pull but it made Pax’s breath stutter, made his back arch, made him jerk and push into the touch like he couldn't get enough of it. And Oz was still touching him. He could feel that smirk on his lips through the kisses, could feel how it grew when he opened his mouth to say something and moaned instead and that just made Oz press up a little harder, move a little faster.

Oz found his hips meeting the movement of Paxton’s, chasing friction like a drug fix—and in the same sense not thinking. The loose grip of a hand at Pax’s hip moved to press fingers into the sweet, soft divot of skin at the small of Pax’s back, sliding through a very fine dusting of sweat, feeling the long lines of muscle that moved beneath.

Every pass of his gentle fingers over Paxton’s back tipped him closer to the edge, and it didn’t help that Oz was nosing along his jaw, stopping to breathe into his ear, and doing better than Paxton at keeping that maddeningly wonderful pace. He opened his eyes, trying to regain some control, to get his mind to focus on something else than the heat and the angle and the way Oz was mouthing at Paxton’s neck and ear. It didn’t help, though, because when his eyes refocused, what he saw was yet more of Oz underneath him.

Pax made a sinful sound that made Oz thrum with want, and in the small space between their swollen lips he coaxed, encouraging, “Go on, that’s it…”

Paxton dragged Oz up into his arms as he came, hand still buried in the thick, curly mess of Oz’s hair. Pax gasped into his neck, shivering and hips chasing his orgasm, nose pressed into Oz’s temple and breath warm in his ear. Even muffled, he was still loud. He relished the warmth, the tightness of the hold he’d locked them into, and even the embarrassing, uncontrolled noises he made.

Paxton’s body seemed to melt over Oz as he found his release, seeping and sighing into every open space like water into soil until their edges blurred and blended. Pax shuddered with little sparks of post-coital pleasure, mewling out the most sincere and unself-conscious sounds, and it was the sort of sweet that could lay down roots with the power to spread and grow through the lightless crevices of your cracked and weather-worn heart, if you weren’t careful.

Pax’s head felt like it was full of soft and airy cotton, obscuring anything beyond the person in front of him and the sensory information that trickled in piece by piece. Pax slowly unclenched his fingers from Oz’s hair as he came back to himself, running his fingers down the knobs of Oz’s ribs shakily. Oz was all interesting angles and pointy limbs. Pax felt a rush of affection well up in him.

His fingers slid back up and locked in Oz’s hair again, as Pax pressed tiny kisses to the skin of his throat, feeling loose and pleased and warm in his soft blue flannel. He was flushed, ferociously, all the way to the ears and his chest, on the tops of his cheeks, and even at the corners of his eyes.

And Oz could have been content with just that honeyed innocence, to let it linger like drops of nectar on his tongue. But Paxton’s hands kept wandering, his mouth kept demanding; the lust coated heavily over everything else, the room thick with that heady, earthy musk, dragging Oz under like sweet, sticky sap.

His hand returned to Oz’s leggings, smoothing up over him again and then inside, breath hot on Oz’s lips as Pax leaned into him for a kiss. The taste of the moonshine and the joint were long gone. “I’ve never, uh, don’t laugh,” Pax mumbled, the faculties of speech slowly returning. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good.

Oz didn't laugh—wouldn’t have dreamed of laughing—but he did smile with brimming affection in the bliss-haze of feeling. “Ya don’t have ta—” he tried to say, but Paxton’s fingers were already dipping beneath the waistband of Oz’s leggings and gripping him with purpose; Oz hardened in response, the words on his tongue splintering like fractals into a messy jumble of expletives that was lost into Paxton’s mouth.

Paxton closed his eyes for a moment, zoning out on the feel of his hand’s firm, sure grasp on Oz’s cock for real now. When he opened them again, Oz was watching him, moving into his hand with a heavy gaze.

Pax’s grip was solid but his hand was still, and it was with immense and—he thought—quite admirable restraint that Oz moved his hips, slow and controlled, to thrust up into Pax’s hand. The latter’s fingers twitched and he opened his eyes; they shone with curiosity and apprehension and wonder in the low light of Oz’s bedroom like glimmering subterranean pools.

Oz offered Pax an encouraging nod, a curl falling over his brow, and Paxton’s wrist started to move, taking pacing cues from the low thrums and stuttered breaths that hummed in Oz’s throat.

Until abruptly, he came undone all at once; a glittery wave of warmth shot up his spine and crashed over him, and Oz blurted out, “Ah, I’m—” with the barest trace of abashedness before the muscles in his abdomen were tightening and he was spilling all over Paxton’s long, lovely fingers and giddy laughter was bubbling up out of him.

And then it was Oz’s turn to melt into the mattress, fanning out all his limbs and feeling sunny and wrung-out and stoned; his legs below the knees wilted weightily over the edge of the bed like saturated leaves.

He whistled out a stream of air, quirking a brow to meet Pax’s inquisitive, indecipherable gaze. “That was nice…” Oz said, his smirk teasing but his tone sincere.

“Mm, s’nice.” Paxton pressed his forehead against Oz’s shoulder. It was a terrible challenge to not let himself float away—anchoring himself in the giddy, fluttery, childhood-crush buzz of feeling Oz’s legs still tangled up with his. “Haven’t felt that nice in. I dunno.” Patches of sweat were cooling inside his clothes, and his crotch was a sticky swamp. He couldn’t muster the energy to sit up.

“D’ya wanna stay? Lay here, for a bit, before venturing back—” Oz gestured a palm that read ‘GOODBYE’ through the air. “—out there?”

Pax yawned muzzily, perfectly content. “D’you want some of Katie’s macaroni cheese? I bet…I bet s'ready now…We should…” But it was impossible. Paxton breathed in against Oz’s hair, closed his eyes, and was gone.

#p: pax #discord #sex cw #it's actually SO wholesome tho i swear #drug use cw #alcohol cw #mention of birth cw #he's a midwife idk #august 2020 #borgin and burkes #knockturn alley

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