#//spotted these while poking around for inspo stuff

[mechahero]

//Dare I say these could be Lambdacore?

[waffles-art-writing]

JOKER - Task Force 141 x Reader

——————————————————————————————————

First post - please ignore any mistakes as I write this on my phone at like midnight most of the time haha. Be Nice :’). Anyway, enjoy! Sorry if any of the slang or anything like that is wrong. I’ve never lived there (I’m in Australia)

GIF: thewriterg

Proofread: Half-assed proof-read sorry.

I got inspo for this from the song “Joker -Rory Webley”.

Summary: Joker (you) gets captured on a mission. Ghost and Soap search high and low for you as Gaz and Price gain as much information as they can about the man they suspect has taken you. Will you make it out and get back to your team?

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.4K Roughly - kinda long sorry

Age Rating: 16+ Preferably, unless you can handle goreish stuff- otherwise anyone can read it

Codename: JOKER

Key: Y/N - Your Name, Y/N/N - Nickname. L/N - Last Name

Warning/Info: third person??, descriptions of injury, blood, weapons, normal COD stuff, mentions of Torture, Kidnapping, Childhood trauma, angst?? I think… FLUFF, Soft!Ghost. If theres anything I need to add please say so :)

EDIT: If this gets enough traction or if you guys want! I am more than happy to make a part two or turn it into a whole mini series :) Thanks for all the likes and reblogs <3 (Here’s the part Two)

——————————————————

The rolling thunder in the distance rumbles, you can feel it through the ground. The air is thick with the feeling of rain, but not a single drop has touched the dry and dusty earth you are currently laying on. You’re watching the rest of the team work their way through the small village, your thermal scope making them glow like glow sticks at a rave. “Joker, how copy?” Price’s voice crackles to life in your ear, you press the button on the comms to reply. “Hear you loud an’ clear Cap” you reply, clicking the button to the pressed position to keep the comms open, you’re watching Ghost and Soap clean house in one of the larger ruins of a house.

“Do you ‘ave eyes on the target yet?” Price’s stern voice rumbles in your ear again. You adjust the scope to get a larger field of view, scanning all the windows in the dilapidated village. Your eyes narrow as you watch a figure poke their head around a wall not far from Ghost and Soap’s position. “Not yet Sir, but there's a shifty guy looking for Ghost and Soap” you comment “Ghost do a one eighty… some guy is looking for you from the building with a red door.” You pick up a low grunt in response from Ghost as Price acknowledges what you’ve said. You’re zoned in on watching any and all movement not yet spotting who you are looking for.

Sweat forms on your brow as you continue watching for any shifty people, the balaclava you wear has red paint smeared on it like a smile like the joker from Batman, the fabric is not helping with the heat. The faint sound of dirt shifting draws your attention from the scope, you push yourself to your knees while spinning around to face the source of the sound. Your glock raises steadily as you lift your arms in front of yourself, the pounding of your heart is deafening, blood pumping quickly, breathing quickens. You scan your surroundings, you’ve perched yourself just in front of a moderately sized group of boulders, shrouded in twiggy bushes.

The little amount of sun casts harsh shadows on the ground as you rock yourself up into a crouched position, your feet light on the ground as you stay close to the boulders. Your breathing falters as you see a shadow not matching up to a group of bushes and rocks in front of you. You whip around to the sound of more footsteps, your vision blurs, you feel your body go numb, black spots decorating your vision like snowfall. The faint sound of Ghost’s stern voice and Soap’s concern calls can be heard as your vision fades to nothing.

“Joker, do you have a visual?” Ghost asks as he looks over the wall he’s crouched behind, Soap just a few feet away. “Joker? Lass, can you hear us?” Soap barks out as he looks over his shoulder towards Ghost, his brows knitted together as he watches Ghost try reaching you again. “Price! Can you reach Joker?” Soap quickly questions through the comms, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he tries to figure out what happened to you. “You two need to get the fuck out of there now, Joker’s been compromised.” Price barks through the radio, his voice commanding as ever as he himself looks over to Gaz who is desperately trying to figure out why you're not responding. “What?” Soap breathes out as he looks up towards the hill you were perched on, trying to see if you’re still there but to no avail. Ghost is quick as he spits out commands to Soap to follow him to the rendezvous spot you all agreed on if something went south.

“Sir, the locator she has is saying she’s still where she was before the comms went dark.” Gaz states as he types furiously across the keyboard, his eyes flicking between maps and coordinates. “The fuck is going on Gaz?” Price asks as he looks over the younger man’s shoulder. Price runs a hand down his face as he watches the white dot on the map blink, his heart skips a beat when he watches the light go out completely. “Fuck! No, no, no. Come on” Gaze mumbles as he tries to get the locator back online, his attempts falling short of the goal he wishes he reached. “Ghost, Soap, can you see Joker anywhere at all?” Price curses under his breath as he watches Ghost and Soap’s lights nearing the rendezvous spot. “Nothing… What the fuck is going on Gaz?!” Soap sneers down the line, Ghost staying quiet as he looks around, looking where you would’ve been coming from up on the ridge line.

“I don’t know, her locator is offline.”

“I thought you couldn’t turn ‘em off without smashin’ ‘em or disconnectin’ from our comms?” Soap growls out.

“You can turn them off if you know the correct button order but they are hard to get to without the proper tools”

“What do ya mean Gaz?” Ghost questions.

Gaz rubs his brow as he looks at the map again. “She either had to have the patience to disconnect it without breaking it, or someone broke it…” his words hang heavy over everyone’s head, everyone knows you’re not the patient kind, nor are you one to smash her own locator without telling them beforehand or without good reason.

“She’s been taken…” Soap’s voice cuts through the silence, everyone knows deep down that's what has happened yet they don’t want to believe it. “You two go search where she was, try to find anything you can on what happened to her. We need to get her back.” Price growls out, he marches out of the room where he was with Gaz, his footsteps echoing around the building.

Your heart is thumping, body aching, throat dry as the Sahara Desert. Your eyes hurt like they have been stabbed with nails. A small groan escapes you as you attempt to move, nothing happens. Your vision is blurry as you look down at yourself, noticing the rope around your wrists and ankles, securely tied to the chair you have the opportunity to sit in. “Wha- What the hell…” your voice is scratchy, hoarse, but clear. Your head snaps up, your eyes widening as you notice the balaclava you hardly ever took off is now missing, it's gone, your face on full display. “Welcome to the waking world Joker… or should we call you Y/N?” Your breath hitches as the voice sounds out from behind you.

You attempt to look at the man who spoke, your attempt failing as a hand comes to grip your hair holding your head forward. “Get your hands off me!” You scream, attempting to loosen yourself from the binds and get away from the bastard that's behind you. “Oh don’t be so harsh now” “Get your fuckin’ hands off of me you bastard!” “Now, now Y/N don’t be so… callous” his voice drips with a sickly sweet tone, your skin crawling as you watch him walk around to the front of you. You stare at him, brows furrowed, jaw clenched as you see it is the same man you were tasked with finding and killing.

“Cat got your tongue?” His eyes roam your body, the shirt you are wearing now sticking to you from sweat, your combat pants covered in dirt just like your shirt. Boots gone. “My eyes are up here you arsehole” you sneer as you watch his eyes trail back up to yours. They are dark, not dark like Ghost’s cold and calculating stare. They are dark like a man with sinister intentions, a predator who’s on the verge of snapping and turning into a hellbent rabid dog.

“Why are ya doing this? If you want information ye ain’t getting it outta me you sick bastard. You’re just a coward hiding behind a name.” Your voice darkens as you stare him down “You won’t even survive five seconds out there if it weren’t for yer’ guards or yer’ stupid little posse that kisses the earth ya walk on!” The man stares at you, his movements blur in the low light of the dark room. The cold blade of a knife traces along your cheek. “I wonder how you got these scars…” his voice trails off as he follows the pale scar that runs along the apple of your left cheek going towards your nose. The scar is from your early years in the armed forces, you were sparring with a fellow comrade which ended up with you face in the dirt and cutting your cheek on the end of the rough mat you were on.

“How about this one?” The tip of the knife pushes against the corner of your mouth, a small scar going to the side, almost like it’s extending your smile by a fraction. You’ve had it since you were young, you were using a stake knife, you were playing around with the knife and using it like a fork. Your parents were out and they left a steak for the babysitter to cook, yet the sitter was distracted by her phone. You accidentally moved the knife slicing the corner of your mouth open. Your parents ended up scolding you while you sat on a bed in the overnight section of the local doctors surgery.

“That’s none of ya fucking business” you sneer as you lean away from the blade. “Well I’ll now know where this one will come from, hold still… let’s match the joker smile that’s on your mask to your pretty little face shall we?” “No, no no no no no no!”

Boots splash in the puddles of mud, rain falling heavily from the clouds overhead, grumbles of curses can be heard throughout the group as they march through the drenched ground. Soap is quick to push the door to the safe house open, Gaz not far behind, followed by Price, Ghost a few strides out. Price immediately heads to the wall decorated in maps and sheets of information, Gaz opening the laptop on the closest surface. Soap looks over to Ghost. His shoulders rigid, eyes set in a hard stare, hand in tight hold around the strap of the rifle case you decorated with patches from all the places you’ve been.

The gun was gone, you were gone, but the case was still there sitting in the dirt.

Soap and Ghost looked around the area you were in, just as they were getting close, the clouds opened up the heavy rain fell, it drenched the earth quickly like a burst fire hydrant. Ghost was the one to spot the case hap-hazardly thrown into the bushes off to the side. Ghost knew you adored making at least something personalised, make it seem less… daunting…

Ghost places the case on the table, keeping a hand on it as Soap steps up next him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The lass is probably already on her way back to us L.T…” Soap quietly states, his voice low. “She’s strong… she’ll be back with us in no time”. Ghost looks to Soap out the corner of his eye, watching the Scotsman walk off towards Price. “She better…” His voice is low, a small hint of worry dancing in his tone as he runs a gloved hand over the patches on the case.

The taste of iron rests on your tongue. Blood.

Throbbing, stinging pain burns across your face. Pain.

The burning feeling of aching muscles flows through your legs, arms, back… Just everywhere.

All you see is red, the colour of blood, the smell of death. The corpses of men littler the corridor you stand in, the men that once beat you to a bloody pulp, talked down upon you like you’re some barnyard rat.

Sound of blood rushing fills your head. Your feet drag across the ground as you limp over the dead men towards the door, the door that leads to the outside world, to your escape, to your freedom… to your team.

Rain, water, cool air, wet ground. You let the rain run down your face, your hair a tousled mess as it clings to your forehead. From sweat? From rain or from blood? You don’t know and you don’t care as you stumble through the slippery mud. Your mind is flooded with the desire to get somewhere warm and dry, to be surrounded by your team, your friends, your found family.

The dark silhouette of the safe house can be seen amongst the other small village buildings, the safe house isn’t far from where the mission was taking place, it was for convenience. It was just over half an hour by car, but by foot it was just over seven hours of nonstop walking. Your feet are red with blisters from walking across the earth. You were lucky enough to find a quad bike off to the side of the run down building you were held in, but it quickly ran out of gas within the first 10 minutes of riding it. You were close to giving up right there and then, you were barely able to stay upright, your grip on the handlebars was almost non-existent. You dumped the dead bike in a ditch, not giving a shit about how out of place it looked.

Four hours of nonstop walking, rain, mud, wind and the occasional moments of running to avoid being spotted by someone driving past.

Tears rim your eyes as you approach the front door of the safe house, inputting the code in the keypad, your breathing ragged as you nudge the door, the creaking of hinges sounding out, muttering can be heard from behind the door leading into the main common room. Using your good shoulder, the doors open quickly and the voices go silent as they turn to the sound of the doors opening. Your eyes are half lidded, your right hand clutching your left bicep. “I-.. I’m sorry…” your voice comes out mumbled, your legs quiver as you feel yourself tipping forwards.

Ghost turns to the doors, his back once to them, his eyes widened as he sees your tired, bloodied and dirty face. “I-.. I’m sorry…” his feet moving before he even realises he’s moving, Soap right behind him. “I’ve got you kid, I’ve got you…” he mumbles as his arms wrap around your waist, his grip firm but careful to not hurt you any further. “Lass…” Soap’s voice is soft as he approaches you and Ghost. Your face is pushed up against Ghost’s chest, blood still dripping down your face. Your hands clutch to Ghost’s tactical vest, the rough surface rubbing against the deep gashes that drag heavily across your cheeks. “J-Johnny…” you whimper out as your hazy eyes focus on the blue eyed Scotsman next to you. “I’m here Lass, don’t worry.”

Only you and Ghost have the pleasure of calling the ruthless Sergeant Soap MacTavish ‘Johnny’.

Everything around you is muffled, nothing is coherent enough for your fizzled mind to make out. You feel your body get scooped out from under you, your head leans into the junction of Ghost’s neck and shoulder. His broad frame keeps you stable and warm, Soap is rushing ahead to the kitchen moving everything out of the way on the small island bench. “Shit, kid, what did they do to you…” Price curses, his question comes out more like a statement. “I… I didn’t tell... I didn’t s-say… anything” your mumbled words slur as you lean into Ghost more. “Don’t close your eyes L/N. Keep those pretty eyes open.”

‘Did he call my eyes pretty?’

You whimper when Ghost places you on the kitchen island, grabbing the med kit from Gaz who was running in from getting it from the bathroom. Price is standing to your right, Gaz next to him. Ghost to your left, while Soap wraps a tourniquet around your left thigh.

“We gotta cut your pants lass, I know you like these ones” Soap chuckles lightly as opens the pant leg up to your thigh. He’s quick to clean the bullet wound that marks your flesh. Ghost has gone quiet, his whole body rigid from head to toe, his hands working quickly to rip open your shirt, not hesitating to run his hands gently down your ribs. “Gaz, get a bowl of warm water” Soap barks out as he realises what state your feet are in, his touch is firm but careful.

Your body feels numb, the men around you are fuzzy, your eyes roam Price’s face as he holds your shoulders down when Soap says he’s gonna have to dig the bullet out. You don’t move, other than a pained and strained cry leaves you as you feel Soap pulling the bullet out. It wasn’t too deep. Thank god.

“Joker, look at me girl. Keep your eyes on me, that's it sweetheart.” Price’s voice is stern, commanding, as he desperately tries to keep you awake. “I’m sorry C- Cap…” Price shakes with his head lightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I know, kid, I know. You just need to keep talking, okay? Can you do that?” You nod your head slightly, cringing when Ghost touches a bruised rib while applying anti-inflammatory cream to it, hoping to ease the pain. “Ow- you arse…” you mumble as you glance at Ghost, who’s eyes squint slightly like he’s smirking. “M’sorry, keep your eyes on Price for me.” He says gently as he takes a damp cloth to your cheek. You flinch away harshly, tears falling down your face even quicker now. The adrenaline is wearing off quickly, the pain from everything is bubbling to the surface.

“No. No no no” you whimper out as you try to hide your face away from Ghost’s touch. Price and Ghost swap positions naturally. You glance up at Ghost whose face is now upside down when he looks at you, your eyes blurry with tears. “Kid… Love, you gotta look at me. I need to clean your face to see where you’re bleeding from.” His voice is muffled by the Balaclava, and hard skull mask adorning the dark fabric.

“He- He said let’s m-match the mask… make my f-face match my mask… he-” your pained voice states, tears streaming down your face, Price’s grip on your hand and shoulder tightens. Gaz’s hand’s still from cleaning the cuts and scrapes around your ankles and feet. Soap halts his bandaging of your thigh, they all stare at you with stormy eyes, filled with rage. Ghost’s hands cup your jaw gently, his fingers twitching with adrenaline from the rage, his eyes darken as he stares into your teary and puffy eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill him…” he sneers lowly, your voice sounds like a small kitten when you speak.

“You can’t….” “Why can’t he kill ‘em Lass?” Soap questions as he secures the bandage around your thigh. “He’s… he’s already dead… I killed him.” Your voice breaks when a sob racks through your body. “He’s dead, in a puddle of his own blood… I killed him…” you repeat, “… he’s unrecognisable now…” you lift your hand to place it on Ghost’s forearm. Your hands shake as you do so, Ghost snaps out of whatever trance of rage and concern he was in. He nods his head, Price has gone to call for a medic evac, Gaz and Soap continue cleaning any other wounds you have.

You lean into Ghost’s touch, allowing him to clean one side of your face at a time. The gashes are reasonably deep, not deep enough feel from the inside of your cheeks thankfully. “I can’t stitch these L/N… the doctor will have to do that. All I can do is cover them with gauze and tape…” he sounds sorry, only slightly, his eyes still burning with anger but there is some softness of concern in them. “Just… just do what you can Ghost…” the man nods as he gently sits you up, allowing him to see if the wounds will bleed when you are up right.

You sit there, eyes heavy and dull. The dried tear stains are still on your cheeks as Ghost gently applies antiseptic cream and gauze, followed by medical tape. You wince at his touch. You feel like you just got your wisdom teeth removed, your head cloudy, your face aching, eyes sore.

“Ghost the heli will be here in five minutes, is she ready to move?” Price barks out as he walks over. Gaz and Soap throwing anything dirty and used away in the trash. Ghost looks from Price to you, his eyes scanning your body from head to toe. Noticing the skin around your ribs already turning a dark blue and purple. That’s gonna hurt. Your hands shake as you push yourself to stand on the ground, as soon as your feet touch the ground your knees give way.

Ghost is clutching you to his chest, you whimper as you clutch to him like your life depends on it. “Doesn’t look like it, Sir.” Ghost states as he keeps his arms under your arms, to keep you upright. “Well, gotta carry her then.” Ghost just nods as he leans back, making you look up at him. “Johnny’s gonna carry you okay?” Ghost states as he sees Soap approach you two, one of his shirts in hand and a blanket. “… O-... Okay…” You look over at Soap and let one of your hands reach out to him, doing a grabby-hand motion.

The Scotsman chuckles as he moves over, slipping the spare shirt around your head, slipping your arms through it gently. Ghost wraps the blanket around your shoulders, making sure you’re snug once you’re in Soap’s arms. “Comfy there Lass?” His low chuckle makes you smile as you lean into him more, letting your eyes close. “Yeah… just tired…” you mumble as you nuzzle into his neck, his cologne comforting you in a way. “Don’t sleep just yet, we gotta get you outta here.” He states as he walks to the door, following Gaz and Price. Ghost behind you with your belongings and Soaps rifle and his own. “Keep talkin’ to us, love.” Ghost states as he makes eye contact with you, you nod your head gently. The sound of the chopper overhead is loud, the wind from the blades and the rain makes you bring the blanket up more, making you curl in on yourself.

“Can they go any fuckin’ slower?” Soap laughs at your complaint about waiting for the chopper to land. “I don’t think so or they would stall Lass.” You chuckle with Soap as he tightens his grip on you as you approach the chopper, a medic is there waiting, you groan as you realise that Soap has to put you down. You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly to show you don't want to be out down. “No.” The medic looked at you confused, she was ready to help you with your injuries. “Lass we gotta put-” “No. No. No.” You cower further into Soap’s chest as you see the medic reach for you. “Fuck off!” You growl, Soap’s arms wrap around you further as he gets comfortable in the chopper. Ghost sits next to him, Price is up by the pilot, Gaz on the other side of Soap.

The ride back to the main base of operations is quick, there's mostly silence amongst everyone, other than the medic who keeps asking questions about your injuries. Soap mainly answers, Ghost pitching in when needed. The whole time you kept your face hidden in Soap’s shoulder or neck, keeping the blanket up by your face.

You wouldn't let go of Soap until you were in the medical wing, laying on a bed. But even then you wanted at least one of the boys to be in the room. The nurses and head medic came in and out the entire time, asking questions upon questions, preparing you for further treatment of your condition. You eventually fell asleep after getting some pain medication and proper medical attention to all the injuries.

But when it came to stitching up the gashes that made you look like the real-life Joker from Batman, you requested Ghost or Soap to be there. They both ended up being in the room, Ghost and Soap were standing to your left, your face turned towards them, having the left side already dealt with and covered. The head medic did whatever he could to help lessen the scarring. Ghost was like a brick wall, unmoving, cold eyes as he watched the medic. Soap was letting you play with his hands, and fingers, which allowed him to play with yours in return.

Blinding lights.

The smell of cleaning products.

Beeping. Bloody Beeping.

Your eyes crack open, your nose scrunching as the blinding lights flood your vision. Your head feels heavy, and your body aches. You hear the sound of the heart monitor and another softer sound. You look around the small room, three figures can be found in the room. Soap and Gaz leaning their heads on the bed. Your right hand is held in Soap’s as he snores softly, Gaz leaning on his arms that are crossed on the bed, out cold. Ghost in the armchair in the dark corner of the room, his chin to his chest, safe to say he’s probably asleep. The door to the room opens softly, you see Price closing the door with his foot.

He smiles when he sees you awake, he approaches and places two paper cups on the table next to you. His hand falls to your shoulder, a light squeeze in greeting. You smile up at him, your free hand wrapping around his. “Got you some juice, they said not hot liquid for a week…” he mumbles softly as he hands you the paper cup. “Thanks, Cap.” You softly say, barely above a whisper, your voice scratchy from just waking up. “Those two-“ Price points to Soap and Ghost “-have been here the whole time, Gaz got up to get food for them but otherwise he's been here most of the time.” “And you?” “I came just after you passed out, Laswell sends her regards as well.” You nod in acknowledgment, your eyes finding sudden interest in the liquid in your cup.

“You did good kid, I’m proud of you.” You look up to Price who is now sipping his coffee, tears form in your eyes as you nod your head. “Drink your juice kid, get some sleep too.” He states as he ruffles your hair.

You are safe, protected, inside, warm and dry. Surrounded by your team, your friends, your found family.

————————————————————————

[nochukoo97]

boyfriend drabbles (pt.27)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: the one where you and jungkook go on a pottery date, and eat lots of food later

word count: 1.1k+

taglist!: @imlyfie @jksgirlhere

boyfriend drabbles masterlist!

you’ve been waiting for jungkook’s schedule to clear up to finally be able to go on a date with him, more specifically a pottery date that you’ve been telling him about.

“baby, i’m so excited,” you hum, fidgeting in your seat as you look out the window.

jungkook chuckles beside you, his eyes trained on the road as he drives, “what do you want to make?”

“should we make mugs?” you scroll through your pinterest board, humming as you click on a few designs you had saved.

“do they only allow us to make one thing?” he ponders, turning to face you for a split second.

“i’m pretty sure we can make as many as we want, just gotta pay more i guess,” you spot another cute pottery bowl on your feed, clicking on it and saving it into your camera roll.

“then we should make a bowl, a plate and a mug each,” he decides, chest puffing out slightly as he laughs at your amused reaction.

“we’ll be spending all day there then,” you tell him,

“i don’t mind,”

“jungkook!”

-

jungkook seems more excited than you now as you both walk into the class, the lady sitting you both down and giving you instructions.

you tell her that the both of you would be only making a mug each, much to jungkook’s dismay. but you promised him you’ll bring him back if it goes well.

“baby, how the hell did you get this shit on?” you turn to your boyfriend, a puzzled expression on his face as he twists and turns the apron around, trying to find out how to put it on.

“this is too hard,” he’s groans, hands plopping on his lap as he let’s you take the apron from him.

“you’re meant to twist it like this,” you turn the strings to make a loop, getting up from your seat to reach over his head and put the apron on him.

“thanks,” he pecks you on your lips, “what colour are you making your mug?”

you ponder for a second before answering him, “pink, i have my inspo pic,”

you fish out your phone to show him the picture you had saved earlier in the car.

“your favourite colour,” he whispers under his breath while looking at your photo, “should i make mine black then?”

you nod your head, opening pinterest again to search up pictures for him.

jungkook’s amazed by the many results the app has given you, he takes his time to scroll through and carefully scrutinise each picture while you organise the table.

“i’ll do this one,” he tells you, showing the picture he has found as you nod enthusiastically, jungkook seems pleased with your reaction.

-

“this is so fucking hard,” the clay in jungkook’s hand spins out of control for the third time as he sighs, you laugh to yourself softly as you turn to look at him.

“try one more time baby, then i’ll help you,” you use the back of your hand to nudge his hair away from his eyes, leaning over to peck his cheek.

“how are you doing that, i swear sometimes you’re too good at these type of stuff,” he groans, picking up the clay to throw it back on the pottery wheel.

“you need to be patient,” you start your wheel again, showing him, “like this, look,”

jungkook watches in awe as you shape the clay into a mug shape, the clay smoothly following your hands as you smile proudly.

“now you try,” you stop the wheel again, turning to face your boyfriend.

jungkook starts his wheel, hands hesitantly hovering over the blob of clay, he deems it as his current biggest enemy.

“push your fingers in the middle of the clay when the wheel goes to make a hole, then from there you have to shape it,” you instruct him, watching as he does exactly what you say.

“babe, this feels extremely intimate and uncomfortable,” he grimaces, poking his finger into the clay

you laugh, slapping his arm with your hands, a tiny bit of clay getting onto it, “don’t say it like that!”

jungkook laughs, his eyes still focused on shaping the clay, it’s been the most progress he’s made so far ever since the both of you got here.

“you’re doing it kook! just keep going and be careful with it,” you lean forward to peck his cheek, he nods, a proud smile growing on his face.

-

“that was tiring,” he huffs, reaching out to hold your hand as you both walk out of the shop.

“it’ll be worth it when they deliver the finished products, i think it’ll be so cute,” you giggle, squeezing his hand.

“let’s go and eat some food now, what’cha wanna eat?” he hums, pulling you closer as he fondly swings your linked arms while walking.

“there’s a nearby samgyeosal place-“

“let’s go,”

you giggle as jungkook quickens up the pace, walking the both of you to the car.

-

“shit, should we order the 600g one?” jungkook groans, fingers reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he imagines the good food the two of you are about to eat.

“babe, we are two people, please order a smaller amount,” you giggle, watching as your boyfriend flips through the menu to scan through more ingredients.

the two of you settle on some meat, some vegetables and a beer and soju.

“jagi try this,” he offers you the first sip of his beer as you grimace, eyebrows scrunched up as you take the mug of beer from him.

“don’t know how you like this,” you take a sip of the drink, forcing yourself to swallow the small but bitter sip.

“it’s so good, could drink this like water if it didn’t matter,” he reaches to take the drink back and takes a sip.

-

when the meat and vegetables come, jungkook decides that his duty has arrived. he reaches for the tongs and starts to grill the meat on the grill as you watch him.

“smile,” you point your camera to him, capturing a picture of him smiling at your camera and grilling the meat.

“this is so good,” you groan as he feeds you the meat wrapped in lettuce, jungkook smiles proudly at you as he watches your content expression.

“it’s made with love, that’s why,”

“you’re so cheesy, eww,” you giggle, nudging his shoulder as he fondly smiles at you.

“eat well,” he taps the bottom of your chin, turning back to the grill to cook more meat.

-

“that was a good meal,” you link arms with his as the both of you head out of the restaurant, the sky turning dark quickly as time passes.

“mm,” he hums, shivering as he pulls you closer.

“jagi, there’s a night market here,” your boyfriend lights up, beginning to drag you over.

“jungkook,” you whine, “we just ate dinner,”

“a little more food won’t hurt,”

he ends up getting more than just a ‘little’ but you can’t stay mad anyways.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Woke up married

Summary: Pounding headache, blurry details from the night before, awkward glances at brunch. All the right ingredients for the world’s worst hangover.

Warnings: 18+ stuff, drinking, talks of sex, humour & fluff.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Square Filled: Woke up married

Word count: About 1100.

A/N: Written for @avengersbingo Have I taken inspo from that Friends episode where Ross and Rachel get married? Yes I have. Enjoy ;))

Avengers Bingo Masterlist

Tony Stark Taglist - @raspberrymama @ladyeliot @boop-le-snoot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Taglists are open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be included!

.

Sunlight streamed in through the glass wall and on your face in a way that had you groaning and kicking the sheets, which in turn resulted in a muffled ‘ow’ being heard from somewhere down below.

The ruthless hammering inside your head became prominent and you knew it would only get worse if you opened your eyes. There was some shuffling and moving beside you, enough to mumble a curse word before peeking an eye open to locate the source.

A big lump of pristine white sheets and Tony’s bare legs poking out through the other end right next to your face. The need for rest hung heavy on your lids as the surroundings became clearer, still eluding the events from last night.

Apart from the sheets that were tangled around your body, you realised to your horror that you were sans clothing as well. There was popcorn littered on the nightstand along with some liquid splashed across the surface and confetti?

“Oh God…”

The movement caused Tony to pull your legs closer and rest his face on your feet. The pounding headache grew as you rest yourself on your elbows to take notice of the state of the bedroom you were in.

Clothes strewn about on the floor, your bra hanging off the open bedroom door proudly, empty champagne bottles and more confetti.

“Tony. Wake up!” You hissed, blinding tapping the lump of sheets that wouldn’t move. Another kick and he was up.

“Did you just kick my face? Ugh. What time is it?”

“Time to regret drinking a river that we did last night.”

Slowly unveiling his face from the sheets, Tony emerged looking as terrible as you imagined you were too. He rubbed a hand down his face before sitting up, his bare torso littered with your lipstick stains up for display, adding to your worries.

“Do you have your boxers on?” You asked, praying he did as you spotted your panties on the foot of the bed. Tony reached underneath the sheets to check, his expression revealing everything you needed to know as he gulped and shook his head.

“We couldn’t have had sex though, could we?”

“Given how badly I want to throw up and go back to sleep right now, I’m gonna say we were too hammered to do much else.”

Tony’s reassurance did nothing to pacify your panic as the cottonmouth you had screamed for water.

“I’m never gonna drink again.”

“Tony, you and I both know it’s a lie.”

“Do you remember what we did last night?”

“I think so? Couldn’t have been too bad.”

Little did you two know that all your worst fears were about to be revealed.

.

You shrugged on one of Tony’s old T-shirts and a pair of shorts you had stashed in his closet long back when you’d first started dating, rubbing your temples in circles as you waddled downstairs for sustenance.

Expecting it to be empty, you were surprised to find the team gathered around the living room, chatting animatedly before their heads turned in your direction watching the two of you enter the land of the living.

Spotting some food kept on the table you made your way over and plopped yourself on the couch with Tony yawning shamelessly following suit.

You downed the glass of orange juice in one go as Nat exchanged suspicious looks with Clint, Bruce looking uncomfortably between the two of you while Steve acted indifferent.

Tony reached for the cup of coffee before you slapped his hand away and handed him a fruit instead, mumbling something about how drinking coffee makes the hangover worse, causing the Russian assassin to chuckle.

“Okay what is it?” You asked, glaring at everyone.

“Are we going to talk about what you guys did last night?”

The Captain crossed his arms over his chest, displeasure prominent on his face.

That previously forgotten fear showed up again as you met Tony’s eyes, your expressions matching.

Just as you were about to answer, the God of Thunder burst in the room smiling at the two of you holding a vase containing massive long stemmed roses.

“Good morning! How is the happy couple?”

“What?”

You lost your appetite as memories from the night before came back to you in pieces. There had to have been Thor’s Asgardian liquor involved since you’d never had blackout incidents before this.

Your left hand housed a ‘ring’ fashioned out of copper wires, something you definitely knew was Tony’s doing.

“What did you do Tony?” You glared at the man who gulped as last night’s events flashed before his eyes.

“Honey I wasn’t the only one drinking yesterday.”

“Explain this!!” You flashed your hand in front of his face.

Bruce cleared his throat to interrupt the possible spat that was about to commence.

“Uh. Tony sent one of his suits to get a minister to marry you guys. And he wrote this on my hand.”

He rolled up the shirt sleeves to reveal what you hoped was a temporary tattoo that read, ‘Best Man Bruce Banner’.

You held your head in your hands, unable to face any of them while Tony tried his best but failed to hide a snigger.

“It’s not funny Tony.”

“Kinda is. Look, we can take care of it, don’t worry Banner.”

You stood up suddenly, making all heads turn your way, struggling to get the ring off of your finger.

“Wait why’re you removing it?” Tony followed you, leaving the group to stare after the two of you.

“Are you suggesting I keep this god awful thing? And this was an accident, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah it was. But what if we don’t get an annulment?”

Tony’s words made you stop in your tracks. The man didn’t seem to be joking as you faced him.

“What are you saying Tony?”

“I’m saying what if we stay married? It seems like we already had the ceremony.”

“No. Not a chance.”

You shook your head and began storming towards your room. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and headache making you this irritable and react the way you were, you wondered if the circumstances had been different your answer would change.

“But why? Do you not want to marry me?”

“Not like this I don’t! We were hammered.”

The ring finally came off which you threw in Tony’s general direction, not turning to see if he’d caught it.

“I’ll get you a proper ring (Y/N) come on!”

“Get me a proper wedding Stark!”

The others laughed as you slammed the door on Tony’s face before Steve removed his phone, scrolling through hundreds of pictures which he was forced to take capturing the world’s worst hangover.

[muffindaddystyles]

Hearth.

A/N: I dunno if I've got any desi/brown/poc readers but if you're reading this I love you so much and you (us) deserve the same validation and representation others get.

Here's a blurb as to what it feels like celebrating Eid with Harry! Enjoy!

Warning: none — just loads of fluff.

More Inspos, Masterlist, Let's Talk

The night's pretty with murky clouds and thick layer of moon's brightness as Y/N cleans her flat, from scrubbing her Persian rugs to deep cleansing her vases back from her homeland. The flame evaporating from her candles scented like springs of Kashmir, flickers from her blowing sheer curtains due to the zephyr flurring outside.

She feels content, at peace waiting for Harry who promised that he'll be at her place by 11. He always comes an hour early helping her in setting the table before the iftari, they've been doing it together since the start of ramdan until today when he texted her he's busy along with a sad smiley.

It was fun. He fasted with her once or twice and would make sure she's hydrated enough once they break it, his love for rooh-afzah (it's a drink red in color made from essence of roses and some sweet herbs) will never fail to make her giggle as he'd demand for more after gulping two glasses already.

Then showing her his tummy along with his food pregnant jokes.

Her classes are online so it gave her time to experiment some cooking. They'd make samosas together and she always had an urge to hold back her cooes as his tongue used to poke out in concentration everytime his diligent fingers folded the samosa sheets skillfully.

"Did a pretty go'job here, innit?" He'd grin raising it like a summat trophy.

The moment he used to leave her flat (ofcourse after giving a tight hug before doing so) they both missed eachother terribly, y/n doesn't like the way her home falls into an abyss without his presence.

He's like a sunshine that warms her insides up.

The whistle of kettle and several raps of knocks on her door drags her from her fond memories of them together, she slings her feet down from the coffee table rushing to open it.

"Angel."

Harry says breathlessly prolly because he climbed three flight of stairs to get to her or that he's utterly flustered.

Her eyes remain struck at the thingies piled in his arms, a box of chocolates, many brown bags and stems of freshly blood ripped roses tucked between his knuckles.

He bought all of these gifts for her.

To make her feel like home.

To be her home.

What the fuck, nobody has ever done that for her —-- she just mighty cry.

Her mouths gupples like a fish too overwhelmed to react her emotions out and he gives her a sweet smile kicking the door shut with his feet -- gestures her to wait when she almost jumps like a cub to hug him and puts everything on the sofa knowing the things inside them's too delicate.

"C'mere, baby." He grins and she doesn't waste a moment falling in his embrace. Her cheeks smashes against his taught chest and she fists the hem of his shirt smiling too hard for her own sake as he sways them with his own rosy cheek squished against her temple.

"I love you so much, thank you." She murmurs gazing up at him with glinting eyes -- arms still lopped around his waist and his chin doubles adorably as he gives her his signature bunny grin kissing the tip of her nose, "Love you too bubba ... don't want ya homesick, at alllll."

The aggressive whistle of kettle parts them away, "Cuppa cha? Then we'll unwrap these pleasanteris." She points at the paper bags.

He nods flopping onto the floor cushions beside the large oak window of the balcony where they could bathe in moonlight.

"Thank you." He quips, kissing her fingertips while slipping his fingers under the handle of mug and takes it from her as she sits infront of him. He admires her for a second —- fawning over how she's looking so soft and cuddle-able wearing a baggy mauve kurta and some mismatched shalwar.

The tearing open of the stuffing tissue brings him back to focus --- this, he wanted to see this happiness dance over her features as she clutches the ethnic traditional dress he bought for her infront of her and when lifts it down he's met by overly excited eyes.

It's ethereal with golden details, handmade wire work and sheer fabric.

"It's gorgeous, pups." She squeezes his hand and he takes the sip of his cha smiling against the rim of the mug shyly, "Wasn't s' sure -- Sarah helped me in collecting stuff." Sarah's Y/N's bestfriend who was the only desi/brown in her filming class.

"No wonder she was being a lil sneak." Y/N chuckles already rummaging for what comes next.

He wanted to make sure he gets her everything they do traditionally in her culture and ate Sara's ears off to help him buy the most special thing and it's right there creating sweet noise when they touch eachother, dangling from her fingers.

"Churiyan .... " She whispers bitting down a smile. She loves glass bangles. Their colourfulness cheers her mood up and she'd always go with her Nani a night prior eid to select the most flamboyant pair of them from a bazar (market).

"This -— " She gestures to the gifts scattered around them, " —-- all of this and you, means alot to me." She sighs giving him a wet smile and he smoothes his thumb against her cheek like she's the most fragile thing to exist.

He watches her in a tad confusion when she stands up with a giggly squeal putting everything away and comes back with a tube of henna in her hand.

"It's chand raat t'night 'cos tommorrow is eid -- usually I spend it with Sarah and we apply henna to eachother, we're horrible at it honestly but now she isn't here 'm gonna bite yours ears —-" He cuts her off. Ushering her to sit back on her spot. He couldn't be more glad to spend all of his time with her whether it's just watching her make designs on her hand with henna.

"Your cha's waftin'." He shakes his head bringing it to her lips, "It's hot." She tells him drawing a circle on her palm and filling it with beautiful darkness of henna.

"Okie then ... " He blows at the hot beverage to cool it down and again brings it to her lips, "Now." He croons softly to her. She holds his wrist taking a sip from it -- he tucks the strand of her hair back and she smiles up at him making him chuckle when she takes a huge sigh as if her soul just woke up.

"What do we d'tommorrow?" He asks. Knowing most of the time they went to Zayn's house on Eids his mother used to fill the whole table with delicious dishes and the whole day was spent having fun.

"We do nothing but have loads of nice time -- I already made a dessert 'cos I know I'll be too lazy in the mornin', and invited your friends if that's okay?" She glances up at him done with her left palm.

"Perfect then," He nods, "D'ya need help with the other one?" He asks grabbing her right hand and the tube of henna from her.

"Yes, please." She shows him her hand covered with with henna and since it's wet she could do one thing wait or let him do it. The second options sounds more good.

"Not on me if it gets messed up." He warns her nonchalantly following the same pattern of her left hand. Stealing glances of her attractive face every now and then, dotting her moles with his intense gaze, he just thinks her brown eyes look more intricate – it's specks as if the forests soil on the first rains when they dilate with her racing heartbeat.

They're like an open book to him and at the same time mysteriously dark that he feels like burning a match to melt in them.

"You did it way better than me," She snorts examining it closely and turns the other way round to lay down on the carpeted floor and rest her head in his lap. He wipes his own hands watching the dark henna leaving a swipe of color on his fingertips.

He pets her hair, dimples milking into his cheeks when she raises her both hands infront of him -- blocking the moonlight that's falling on her, "When I was small I always used to end up getting it on my face and lemme tell ya. Having a yellow blotch isn't even a tiny bit fascinating on the only day you could dress up fancy."

His chest rumbles with giggles and he brings her hands closer to her lips blowing raspberries at them to get them dry early.

Comfortable silence envelopes them in to the point where they could hear crickets singing outside and moonlight sparkling on their skin —- she breaks it cuddling up into his chest.

"I really appreciate this, Harry." Her voice hushed whisper and her cherry stained lips couldn't resist but to patch kisses where his heart lays and she could sense it kicking a pace, "The fact that you did so much just for me -- is beyond my thought. I really feel like home." He let her speak. Squeezing her shoulders to convey the fierceness of his emotions he holds for her. His silken lips pressed to her temple and his eyelids flutters with each spurt of breath she inhales.

"I'll keep making you feel like home, till the day you'll allow me." Today. He for actually felt that his home was never a building or the luxurious furniture adorned inside it, but her. It's always gonna be her.

Because the moment he gets lost in those eyes all he come across is their shared laughter, their moments spent on this balcony right outside sipping onto their chas and watching the city wake up infront of their eyes, going to places he has never been to before, doing things he never thought he'd do in hundered years —- he isn't a big fan of spices but he still pretends like a big boi infront of her while eating pani puri she's oh so obsessed with.

The times she was never embarrassed to introduce him to her community or her friends, and getting soaked into rains even though they could've just used his car, having days planned to make him try new desi dishes, going to buy candles of many scent and shapes with him but then never feeling like leaving the store until he warns her that he'll throw her on his shoulder infront of everyone.

Going to Turkish markets together. He's a bread lover and so all this time he doesn't feel like leaving the shops filled with different kiln and tandoori breads. Eating Simit and drinking black tea in the amardu cups sitting outside the cafe –- he likes it with cheese while she might sound bland she just likes a bit of butter.

Them deciding for hours and hours which Persian rug to buy -- but never buying it apologising to the shop keeper.

Giving eachother head massages from the organic rosemary Morrocon oil that one of her friend gifted her, (Y/N) thinks she's one hell of a masseuse but Harry thinks otherwise —- though he would never ever break her heart so it's better keeping it a secret.

His nose creates a purring sound while he sleeps leaning against the wall, he doesn't even remember when he fell into the deep slumber with his large hand still wrapped around her wrist in a protective manner to keep her from moving.

It's cute.

Though when she stirs to regain consciousness with the birds chirping outside she feels remorseful finding him sleeping in such an uncomfy position just because of her and he wakes up with a loud wheeze —- blinking rapidly to see what just happened only to visibly relax back when she shushes him gently.

"Baby .... shit." He grogs out, knuckling at his eyes pointing at her jaw which's covered into a orangish streak, "Don't tell me." She groans bumping her head against his bicep.

A moment later they burst into fits of hoarse giggles and chuckles. She'd try to suck in air to not to snort and would do it nonetheless driving them more into belly aching laughter.

"Eid Mubarak, I guess?" He cackles loudly. Dimple coveting in to his velvet of skin. Rubs the tip of his nose against her's affectionately and swoons her in his arms to hug her warmly.

"Now -— go 'n dress up, c'mon." He cups the nape of her neck playing with the baby hair there and she whines smushing her face against his chest, "No. Lemme sleep some more."

"Heyyy none of that, c'mon sleepy girl you'll regret it later." He boops her nose smiling down at her fondly and she grumbles mumbling something in between you're so annoying or you're being so much like my mum.

He waits for her laying on the sofa with his arms folded and eyes closed. Prolly took a mini version of nap only to perk his head up grabbing the back of sofa when she returns with wet hair, soft clean face and lips tinted cherry wearing the dress and bangles he bought for her.

An enchantress from head to toe, he wouldn't even complain if she bewitches him.

He needs someone to pinch his bum because he thinks his eyelids might have struck. He takes a dramatic breather mischievously, pupils dilated cutesly and heart shaped lips parted with the sweet loving words in praise of her beauty burning at the tip of his tongue.

His fawning gives her butterflies. Expanding her chest with warmth and she does a three-sixty when he spindles his nimble in the air demanding her to show herself from every angle.

Her head falls back. An echo of happy giggles resonating in the room when he smacks his hand against his chest and flops into heaps of sofa cushions.

"You're fuckin' beautiful, a total knockout." He walks towards her with his hands spread open and takes her's to kiss the inside of her palms, "So are you." Her voice small with shyness. He sits on her on sofa and stays beside her with his chin perched upon his knuckles staring at her like she hung the moon -- as if she's a prayer come true.

"Did you get me ready to d'nothing?" She turns towards him. The curled up fringes kissing the apples of her cheeks same as his fingertips are dying to do so.

"I might sound selfish but it was a trap to get you ready early so I could admire you till everyone squeeze between us ... " He smirks and she huffs sinking deeper into the sofa throwing her limbs in air and his breath hitches when her bangles clanks together producing a beautiful noise.

"Harry!!" She whines.

"Okie, time to fill some grumpy kitten's tummy." He announces standing up to head to kitchen and she shakes her head with a silly smile trailing behind him.

All she knows is that. This Eid she'll have the best time of her life, as she could already feel his energy and love radiating in every corner of her home.

.

@harryforvogue idk why but everytime I'd sit to write this blurb you'd pop in my mind, hope so you're not hiccuping wildly.

[saint-eridell]

Overlook | Deku/F!reader smut

Idk how but @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ and @the-angriestpineapple​ put my writer brain on another plane of existence. I will forever be proud of this one and the fact that it turned Nev into a Deku fucker. Thank them for the inspo behind this - I kinda jammed my foot through the wall of their universe and let myself in, oop. Pray for them and their sanity, since they have to deal with this level of bullshit everyday.

3.2k, kinda proofread. All characters depicted are in their mid- to late-twenties. Major tags: Public sex, voyeurism, face sitting, sex tapes, established polyamory, dirty talk.

The mid-afternoon sun peeks through the canopy above the walking path as you and Izuku meander along, your arm threaded through his while he leads the way with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. You’re alone at this section of trail, only the sounds of your shoes crunching into gravel and the distant noise of a park off the trail just ahead to fill the silence that lingers between you two. It’s a comfortable lapse that you’ve enjoyed with your head rested on his shoulder, his attention pulled to the light tree cover that surrounds the walking path.

You look up at him with a faint smile. The gears in his head are flying at full tilt, his focus somewhere way off despite how steadfast he held the trail. Trickles of light bounce off his brushed curls where they poke out around the edges of his red beanie. He doesn’t notice you staring for several seconds; when he finally notices, he gives you a slightly awkward smile. “What?” he asks, glancing around as his cheeks light up a pale shade of pink.

“Nothing.” You hug his arm closer to you, and are answered with a jump of muscle as he flexes under his jacket sleeve. Your smile creeps wider, but you don’t acknowledge it verbally. Izuku doesn’t show off; the little peeks of confidence that were beginning to come out when you’re alone are rare but worth their weight in gold.

He pulls you across the trail, toward a set of moss-covered rocks about three stories high. “Come here,” he says as he lets go of your arm and pulls his hands out of his pockets. “I wanna show you something.” You follow him as he carefully climbs up the side of the rocks, a beeline set for what looks like a clump of hanging ivy dangling over a large boulder about three feet above ground level. Izuku reaches the vines and brushes them aside, revealing a small alcove just large enough to stand up in and for maybe three people to lay down in without their feet hanging out. Three dark fleece blankets are folded up in a corner, too fresh to be left by someone more than a day ago.

You squint at Izuku as you follow him behind the ivy. “Did you plan this out?” you ask, eyeing the blankets.

He scratches at the back of his head. “Uh… yeah,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I did.”

You pause. He’d framed the outing as a casual walk around the park; he’d made no mention of secret caves or cute little overlooks. You look him up and down, momentarily stunned by the gesture. He squirms on the spot, the hand at the back of his neck sliding down to grab the opposite bicep. “I’m sorry if this is weird, I just like it here. No one seems to know it exists, so it’s great for clearing your head or if you just need a second to-”

You press a kiss to his mouth before he can ramble anymore. He reciprocates it with a gentle moan, breaking away before it can become anything but chaste. “This is awesome,” you assure him as you take one of his hands. “I just didn’t expect it.”

Izuku grins, his self consciousness disappearing. “I get that a lot,” he jokes, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of truth to his airy response. You know he does, and it’s amusing to watch such a complicated person show their true selves.

He grabs all three blankets and tosses them over the smooth stone floor, his hoodie going on top of it all before he sits down and beckons for you to follow. You oblige, crossing your legs under yourself as you lean into the side he has bared with an arm braced slightly behind you both.

He leans in to rest his cheek against your hair. As you settle in, you catch sight of the park beyond the curtain and walking trail. The angle prevents anyone from seeing into the alcove, but your view is as clear as the ivy curtain allows. Izuku tucks himself up to your side, the arm propped behind you both circling around to rest against your back.

“It’s a nice view, huh?” he murmurs. “Kacchan showed it to me.” You glance upward, brows arched; you’re well aware of their physical status, but until now neither of them have brought it up on their own. “As long as you keep your voice below talking level, no one outside can hear.” His free hand spreads over your upper thigh, fingers pressing into the inseam of your shorts. Any question you had about how much they’d done was answered in an instant and, knowing as much about Katsuki’s predilections as you do, you can’t deny the mental images that flicker through your head.

“You sound like you’ve got experience,” you say back, doing your best to keep your tone level.

Izuku chuckles in your ear. “You know him,” he replies casually. “He doesn’t like it when you disobey. He had to put three fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet.” You squirm under his hand as it snakes further up your thigh. So Izuku’s a bottom. Interesting, but unsurprising. You seem to attract his type by the flock.

His hand trails up to the juncture of your hip, ghosting over the apex of your inseam. You suck in a quiet breath through your teeth. “Felt it for three days afterward. He fucks like he’s trying to break you in half.”

You one-hundred percent know that to be true. He catches an earlobe between his teeth and gently sucks it between his lips. You squirm again, suddenly aware of the fingertips pressed to your clit through the fabric of your shorts when you accidentally grind against them. You gasp, and his fingers immediately leave your core. He presses against your tongue with his index finger to keep your jaw open. “Shhh,” he urges. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, right?”

...Maybe? You can’t say no for absolute sure. You close your lips around his finger and swirl your tongue around it. He groans quietly as your cheeks hollow inward, a lewd little pop echoing around the alcove when he withdraws the digit. “Oh, maybe you do,” he purrs quietly. You can see the moment his pupils begin to dilate and he closes in for another kiss not a moment later, his tongue prodding and insistent the moment your lips meet. “You’d like that, huh?” he asks between lewd swipes of his tongue. “Someone to come along... to see you on your knees… to see you throwing yourself back on my dick.” You let out a quiet mewl and he tugs your legs over his hips, crossing his own around you where you sit on the floor so you can brace yourself and grind against his lap. You take to his guiding eagerly, tugging on his lower lip with your teeth when you get settled across him.

“Thought so,” he rumbles. He pulls back so you can’t lean in for another kiss, a devious smile playing along his wet lips. When you try and chase him down, he threads a hand into the hair on the back of your head and tugs hard to keep you in place. The grip kicks something primal in your gut and you grind against him again as your neck arches around his touch. “Should just cut the ivy down and let the whole fucking park see.” You sink your teeth into your lower lip, and Izuku’s grin widens. “Bet someone out there would love a taste.”

That suggestion hits you like a lightning bolt. You paw at his shoulders in an effort to get his attention, your head immobilized in his commanding grip and words failing you as your scalp prickles around his fingers. He looks through the ivy like he’s pondering that exact idea, and you squirm hard against his half-tented pants. He looks to you again with a brow raised. “Eager slut today, aren’t we?” he asks. “Tell me this - if there were someone watching you right now, from a safe distance but with a view of everything we’re doing, would you be okay with it?”

You look at him, suddenly confused through the fog of arousal that clouds your brain. He spots your frown and lets go of your hair, his fingers rested to your scalp to support your head instead of forcing it upright. “I told you Kacchan showed me this spot,” he continues. He said he’d be interested in seeing how we got along, so…”

He pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, immediately showing you the blank screen and lack of recording light. “It’s not going yet,” he adds hastily. “It was just an idea he had, and I don’t mind it. He seemed pretty eager about the idea.”

You consider it in thickened silence. Katsuki is an asshole, but he’s reliable and true to his word. He isn’t the type to go leaking sensitive stuff like videos of you fucking a common boyfriend in a park. After a pause you nod once, and Izuku quickly props the device up by its expandable stand arm’s length away from the blanket pile. You notice the hand that checks the angle and readjusts the placement is shaking ever so slightly.

He turns to face you again when the camera is rolling and set at an acceptable angle, an eager grin slapped across his face. He kisses you again, long and shameless, one hand spread over the small of your back as you grind tight circles against his stiffening lap. You give back everything you get, nails dragging through his hair to free it of his beanie and circle his scalp. He groans quietly into the kiss, then breaks away and let out a quiet moan as you run across the sensitive scalp behind his ears.

“Did Suki have any special requests?” You breathe into his ear.

He laughs quietly. “A few,” he replies as he palms both sides of your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. “He said your ass looks best when you’re bent over, so we’ll be exploring that later.” He smacks the right side playfully, and you jump in his lap with a quiet giggle. “When we were here, he ate me until I had to put a sleeve between my teeth.” He leans in and grazes his teeth below your ear. “I plan on reciprocating the favor.”

You shiver again, harder this time, and Izuku lays back underneath you with his head rested on his bunched up hoodie. “Those shorts are in the way,” he points out, and you immediately agree with the way he’s signaling up with his chin. You strip them quickly and oblige his invitation to crawl upward, your thighs settled next to his ears.

He glances up once to make sure you’re in frame, then settles his hands over the gap under your hip bones and guides you onto his waiting tongue. You hiss, immediately captivated by the soft muscle that teases around your clit and dips ever so slightly into your hole. You watch his eyes gently shut, along with his lips as they find your sensitive nub and circle around it. You shove a knuckle between your teeth to muffle the squeal that threatens to erupt out of you, and he groans against your slit.

His eyes crack open just a tiny sliver. “You taste fucking incredible,” he rumbles before diving in. Your hands find the top of his head and seize two handfuls of soft curls as his deceptively long tongue buries itself inside you. You sit up and slap a hand to the stone wall as you swallow almost all of a high pitched noise, your knees offering just enough leverage to lift up and ride his tongue in slow, agonizing circles when your body demands that you move.

He groans again, muffled against your core but the rumble echoes through his chest. For a long while the alcove echoes with quiet, obscene pops as he torments you with his lips and the hitched whimpers that bubble from you every time you rock back onto his mouth. He spreads his hands across your ass and lifts, reducing how much leverage you have but also taking your weight completely off your lower half. Your hands flatten to the wall of the small cave, jaw wide open as you choke on the desperate moan you only barely manage to wrangle down.

As your thighs twitch together around his ears, his eyes open and he fixes you with a look that could cut diamonds. He angles you onto his tongue further, and when he sucks around your overstimulated core again it’s all over. You plant your open mouth to your bicep and well up every noise that bubbles from you in the top of your throat, praying to God it’s enough to keep it inaudible as your thighs alternate between dead weight and clamping hard around Izuku’s ears.

When you finally stop twitching he relents with a final vulgar noise, his grin soaking wet in the dim light of the cave. He looks absolutely fucked out already, drunk on your taste and still eager for more as he pushes your hips up off his chest.

“No time for breaks, sweetheart,” he says between hard breaths. He slides out from under you and turns around out of your sight, and when you look over your shoulder he’s seaming up to your back with a hand working on the fly of his jeans. “Shorts might have been a bad idea. You’re already a mess, and I haven’t even put fingers in you yet.” He growls directly into your ear from behind as he lines up, eyeing the camera lens in front of you both with half-open eyes and a lusty grin. “You want it that bad, huh? All it takes is letting you ride my face for a few minutes and you’re already dripping for it?” He purrs into your ear as you squirm, searching out the head of his cock as he swipes it through your folds. “Or maybe that’s me. Maybe poor, meek Izuku isn’t such an idiot after all. Maybe he’s gonna be what you think about tonight, when you’re still turned on after getting fucked raw in the wide open and try to reenact it with a video and your fingers.”

The last word drops to the base of his chest as he pushes into you, a hand on the right side of your ass preventing you from throwing yourself back into it. You groan at the limited contact and squirm against his hand, but he merely chuckles through a breathy noise and slips himself out again. “Or maybe you’ll get Ei or Suki to give you another round. Is that it? Gonna think of me when they’re in the back of your throat or balls deep in your ass?”

He teases you with just the head of his dick, one hand at the back of your neck pinning your head to the cave wall while the other prevents you from going any further onto his shaft. He rolls his head back with a quiet moan. “I can see why they’re so crazy about you,” he rumbles, though it comes out slightly garbled. “You were made for this.” He rolls his hips and slides in halfway, your mouth dropping open with the sudden rush of intense friction. He answers back with a quiet, sharp noise of his own, and you vaguely wonder how he can tell you to be quiet when making so much noise himself. If anyone is gonna get you busted, it’s him.

He bottoms out with another guttural moan. You spread your knees and flatten yourself against the stone from chin to chest, back arched into him at the perfect angle to let him fuck you into the cave wall. Quiet pops of skin against fabric echo around the small alcove; he kept his boxers on, the smart bastard. The lack of skin-to-skin contact is somewhat annoying, but the noise reduction means he can drill into you hard and quick without concern over the noise carrying past the vine curtain.

He breathes hard behind you, his face rested in the crook of your neck to muffle anything that comes out of him. You watch the phone screen and the scene being committed to his memory card has your gut twisting hard; the side of his face that you can see is absolutely wrecked, his eyes shut and his jaw slackened around the quick breaths that ghost across your shoulder. Your hip snaps hard every time he drills into you, doubled up as you’re finally able to meet his movements, which become shorter and rougher until his breath freezes in his lungs.

He reaches over your hip and drags his fingertips over your clit, and the rapid-fire pace officially becomes too much. You bite into his forearm where it wraps over your shoulder, your back arched hard as you lift up off the wall and wail quietly into his skin. He does the same at the crook of your neck, mouth latched around the very bottom where your shirt collar will only barely cover the vicious hickey that muffles his ragged moans. He lights up your insides once, twice, three times, then buries himself as deep as he can go while you squeeze and clamp around him.

“Nnh, yeah, take all of it,” he growls against your neck. “Wouldn’t want any leaking out on the way home.”

You’re still floating too high to care, but the realization of exactly how you’d be walking out both exhilarates and mortifies you. Izuku chuckles and gingerly withdraws himself, a quiet moan escaping him as you separate. He lets out a quiet sigh. “Mm, not a bit came out,” he observes. “Good girl.” He lays a surprisingly tender kiss to the curve of your ass, then sits up to retrieve your shorts.

As you turn to take the shorts, you seize him by the shirt collar and tug him into a demanding kiss that he eagerly reciprocates. When his tongue invades your mouth, still heady with your own taste, you shoot a half-lidded glance to the phone sitting arm’s reach away. He kisses you back like a man starved, and when you finally break apart you realize he was staring at the camera as well.

Once you’re decent and the blankets have been stashed once again, Izuku holds the ivy curtain back to let you step out first. “Wait, what about the blankets?” you ask, glancing back to where he’s left them folded in a corner.

“The same person who dropped them off will grab them,” Izuku replies casually. You give him a confused look, and as Izuku follows you back to the trail he pulls his phone from his pocket. “That wasn’t a recording, love,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear and no one else. “Though I have no doubt he saved his own copy.”

Your eyes go wide as your cheeks flush carnation pink. Izuku laughs, open and carefree, as he leads the way down the walking trail in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, babe. Let’s go see if his head has exploded off his shoulders yet.”

---

Moar tags - @deadassqueeraf​ @cherrycolabomb​

[forever-rogue]

THIS THE DUMBEST MF REQUEST U EVER HEARD BUT IM ON MY PERIOD AND I HAVE TO TAKE MEDS BC CHRONIC CRAMPS ANS ITS GIT SO MUCH MF CAFFIENE AND IM FUCKING TRIPPING RN AND FOR SOME DUMBASS REASON I NEED DIN X READER WHERE READER TAKES MEDS AND GOES BATSHIT CRAZY LITERALLY IM SHAKING SO MUCH WOEOWOW SORRY THIS IS ACTUALLY SOME TH IFN IM ASKING FOR YOURE GRET!!

Hi friend, I hope you’re okay now and feeling better! Din blurb? Din blurb. Enjoy! Thank you @rosetophighlander for providing some much needed inspo!

Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

When it came to your least favorite time of the month, you were normally able to handle it...for the most part. It’d been a routine that you’d been going through for what seemed like eons, but some months were worse than others. This was one of those times; not just one of those times, but also the first time you’d had this much pain around your Mandalorian companion.

The morning had gone fairly well, you’d made sure to stay hydrated and eaten a decent breakfast, along with your small green friend, but why the time the afternoon started, your insides were in utter turmoil. You thought you were doing a fairly good job of keeping a neutral face and hiding it. Until...

“What’s wrong?” Din’s gaze was trained on as you sat in the co-pilot’s seat, hand on your stomach and a contorted look on your face. So much for handling it well...but it was hard when it felt like your innards were being eaten.

“N-nothing,” you lied, biting the inside of your cheek as another wave of cramps rolled over you. You should have known better than to lie to him. He was a trained bounty hunter, years of practice had made it easy for him to read just about anyone.

“Why are you lying?” he asked and you just sigh and let your head flop to the side, letting out an exasperation groan.

“Period,” you finally said through gritted teeth as you pointedly avoided looking at him, “I’m on my period.”

“Oh,” he sounded almost nervous but just awkwardly cleared his throat. He wasn’t inept when it came to a woman’s body, but it had been some time since he’d experienced being with a woman during her time of the month. You just nodded and a waved a hand in his general direction, “is there...”

“No,” you said quietly, hoping that if you remained seated and still that the pain would dull and pass quickly. Din stood up after a few more moments of watching you silently struggled with the waves of pain, disappearing without a word. Maybe you’d scared him off?

But no - he was back within a few minutes, handing you a big glass of water, followed by a few pills that you didn’t recognize. You didn’t even bother to ask what they were, or what their origins were, but you quickly swallowed them and down the glass of water.

“That should help,” he said softly and you nodded, giving him a thankful smile, “maybe you should...take a nap.”

“I’m not tired though,” you insisted, knowing the tiredness that always accompanied this time of month could come later in the afternoon. It always did, like clockwork.

“You’ll...just trust me,” he insisted, nudging his head in the direction of the your shared sleeping space, “you’ll want to sleep. It might be...just take a nap.”

“Oh...kay,” you shrugged and decided to oblige him, slowly clambering out of spot and heading for your cot. You might have been going crazy...but did you already feel better? Din wasn’t normally so cryptic or weird, but you weren’t to question him. Besides, maybe a nap would be nice...

»»————-　♡　————-««

Once you’d slipped into your cot, it took only a few minutes until you gave into the soft pull of sleep. If you’d been awake, it would have surprised you, but instead you were quickly snoring...and loudly.

But then...almost as quickly as you feel asleep, you were wide awake again. Your eyes snapped open as you felt a rush of energy running through your veins...you felt more awake than you possibly ever had. But your pain was gone, instead you felt nothing but pure adrenaline pumping through your body.

“Din,” you almost shouted, as you jumped up and ran to find him. When you didn’t spot him anywhere on your floor, you climbed up the cockpit and found him there, playing with the Child, “Din!”

A small, quiet oh no spilled from his lips as you almost barreled him over in your attempt to sit down in your normal spot. He had hoped this wouldn’t happen, it was a risk he was taking...but alas. Your eyes were wide as you sat down and stared at him, speaking so fast that he wasn’t able to catch more than a word here and there. Part of him wondered if you were even speaking Basic anymore.

“andidon’tevenknowwhatyougavemebutifeelsoalive,” you jumped up again, peeking outside, studying the dying light of day. Maybe you could go out and explore for a awhile. Just as you started walking off again, Din grabbed your arm and keep you from walking away, “what?”

“I think you need to stay inside and sit with me,” he felt bad that you’d had such a reaction to the pills he gave you, but couldn’t deny that he was little amuse, “it’ll pass soon, but I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, bouncing on your heels as he kept you restrained, “I just want to go and explore!”

“Cyare...no, just say with me please,” he insisted softly, “but are you...feeling better?”

“There’s no pain,” you promised, “I just feel so...alive! Have you ever heard colors before? I’m pretty sure I’m can hear them!”

“Kriff,” he sighed lightly to himself.

“What even was that stuff?!” you asked as you pulled free from his hold on you and started to dance around the open space, “I love it! I feel so alive!”

“Painkillers,” he admitted honestly, letting the Child down to try and get you in his arms again so you wouldn’t hurt anyone...namely yourself, “apparently much more potent for someone of your size.”

“We should get more of that stuff! We should go to the market and buy some,” you grabbed his hand and started to dance with him, finding it hard to get the large man to move along with you, “you should take some too! Maker, can you imagine how much we could if we don’t have to sleep and we just play?!”

“You can’t buy this stuff at the market,” in order to give you some reprieve, he gave in and danced with you, letting you guide him around the open space.

“Where then!? We have to go!”

“It’s not exactly...legal,” he confessed the last part quietly, but you were so hyper-aware of everything that you picked up on it. You shrugged it off regardless, “I probably shouldn’t have given it you. I should have known better...”

“No, this is great,” you insisted, stopping and put your hands on his shoulders, “I’ve never felt so...amazing! I feel like I can do anything!”

“Yeah...that’s one of the effects,” he cursed himself silently. He’d just wanted help you and alleviate your pain, instead he’d created a whole different type of problem, “cyare, why don’t you come with me and we can go lie down.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you pouted at him, but he just hung his head, “I just wanna go outside and be with you!”

The last part tugged on his heartstrings a little bit, and while he was glad you weren’t in pain, he didn’t mean to induce all of this either. At least this way you were enjoying yourself; the grin on your face hadn’t faltered once. He weighed his options for a moment before nodding lightly, “alright. We’ll go outside and explore for a little bit, but if and when you start to feel sleepy or anything else, you let me know, yes?”

“Duh,” you promised him, your eyes glowing with excitement as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his helmet, where his cheek would be, “we’re gonna have so much fun!”

You leaned down and picked up the Child, carefully as you could in your current state, and Din stopped breathing for a moment. He knew you’d never do anything to hurt him, but in your haze, he was mildly concerned. But you were still so gentle with him, making sure he held tightly against your chest before descending the latter to go downstairs.

“Come on, slow poke!” you called to him as he listened to your footsteps running out of the ship. He sighed lightly, almost in amusement as he quickly followed after you.

He had a feeling you weren’t going to be the only exhausted by the time you were coming down from your high. At least he knew better for next time: half dose...or perhaps something more legal...either way, he vowed to make sure to take care of you.

[chilling-seavey]

Family beach day blurb with the pics of Daniel on the paddle board as inspo!!

Bro…my literal favourite kind of ask yesss 🧡

For those living under a rock, or have yet to follow me for my daily Seavey updates, these are the pictures used for inspo:

Thursday, July 22, 2032

I’ll be working on another ask about more details of this little vacation (now that I kind of have my inspo for a vacation I can answer that one that’s been in my mailbox for ever lol) but basically what you need to know is Daniel often was sent on weekend/three-day business trips to LA once in a while – maybe once or sometimes twice a year - just to work with the main office down there and some other clients. So when another trip lined up with summer break, Florence and Daniel took that opportunity to pay extra to stay an extra week and bring the whole family of five down to LA.

Daniel had to work for the first bit of their trip – they arrived on the Sunday morning and he worked Monday-Wednesday – and then the rest of the week they all had free. LA heat was no joke compared to Toronto summers and the family hit the beach all together as soon as they could.

Clementine was thirteen and was more than ready to show off her brand-new bikini to the California guys. Daniel would have stapled a cover up on her if he could have. Penelope and Lucy were just excited to go swimming in the ocean. They set up their stuff in an empty space of sand on the beach, laying out towels and their bags and passed around the sunscreen.

Penelope hated sunscreen and she had the hugest cringe on her face as Daniel slathered her up, making sure to get her shoulders and nose until she was squirming away, “Okay, okay, okay, that’s fine!”

“I wanna lick it.” Lucy giggled, sticking her tongue out and trying to squirt a bit of sunscreen out from the bottle.

“Oh my gosh, do not do that.” Daniel laughed, snatching the bottle from her. “Hair up.”

Lucy scrunched her hair up off her shoulders to let him apply her sunscreen, nearly bouncing on her toes with excitement. At freshly eight-years-old, she felt like a whole grownup and the idea of swimming in the ocean without direct parental supervision was revolutionary to her.

Clementine had put her own sunscreen on and dropped her cover up incredibly dramatically, making her parents glance at each other as they held back their laughter at their barely-a-teenager.

“Turn.” Daniel said, the youngest doing a little spin to face him and she scrunched her eyes closed to let him apply sunscreen to her face. With a poke to her nose she was done and Daniel tossed the bottle of sunscreen onto the towel, wiping the excess cream from his hands onto himself.

“Can we go now?” Penelope asked, trying to rub off the sticky sunscreen from her skin.

“We have something planned first.” Florence said.

“What?” Clementine frowned, having already secured her spot on the towel to ‘tan’.

“You and your underage self are going to do some paddle board yoga with us.” Daniel said with a smirk at her glare.

“What’s that?” Lucy asked as they made their way down the beach.

“It’s like a class where they teach you yoga on the water!” Florence explained, taking her hand as they walked.

“So…like…something for old people.” Penelope mumbled.

“Not really.” Daniel snorted. “I have not seen a single old person doing this.”

“Your dad did it once.” Florence said.

“A while ago but, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Daniel laughed. “So, yes, I have seen an old person do this.”

They got checked in at the booth, the parents signing a few forms first before they got their boards and the girls waited impatiently with them. Florence slipped her arm around Daniel’s back and rested her chin on his shoulder to whisper a little, “Why do you always have to look so hot?”

His little smirk made her smile and he passed the clipboard back to the lady at the stand and then looked to his wife, pulling her close by her waist with a soft, “Wondering the same thing about you, baby.”

“Can we get a move on?” Lucy grabbed Daniel’s other hand before he could even lean down to kiss his wife and pulled him off towards the water.

They all got their boards and paddles and the instructor led them out into the water. The main goal was to not fall off the board which honestly was easier said than done and as Florence already had fallen off twice just trying to paddle out to deeper water. Honestly Penelope was no better and she could barely get standing without wiping out.

Daniel was doing just fine and Clementine managed to get standing beside him on her board with reasonable ease, Lucy standing on wobbly legs with her arms outstretched and bum stuck out to try not to fall.

“With your arms raised, we’re going to balance on one foot, like so.” The instructor imitated the pose from the centre of their little circle.

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen.” Florence snorted to herself, making Daniel laugh from her left as he adjusted the board with the paddle.

“Gotta try, Flora.” he said, raising his palms together above his head. “Trying new things today.”

“Come on, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, shaking like hell on her board with her terrible form, looking more like an excited puppy wagging its tail than a calm yoga student.

“Lucy-” Clementine laughed just as the youngest sister completely wiped out with a huge splash and the board nearly went flying.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna pee my pants!” Penelope shrieked with laughter, barely able to catch herself before she was stumbling into the water too, making Daniel wobble a little through his own laughter before steadying himself.

“What is with you guys?” Clementine whispered through her concentration, her hands above her head as she slowly raised her right foot to her opposite knee.

“Geez, Clem, look at you.” Florence said with a small applause.

“Why are you making it look so easy?” Lucy grumbled, climbing back onto her board, her blonde hair plastered over her face and shoulders with sea water.

“Because it is easy.” Daniel whispered through his perfect pose.

The group held it for a moment before the instructor moved onto the next pose, “Now carefully get on your knees.”

Daniel glanced over at Florence with a cheeky smirk as he sunk down, “Come on, baby. I know you’re good at this.”

“Daniel James.” Florence gaped, throwing a wave of water at him.

The instructor continued, “And you’re going to anchor your hands on the side of the board, spread your weight between your arms and your head and push into a handstand.”

Daniel took a second to watch the girls try first; Lucy getting too excited and doing a complete back flop right off the board and into the water, Penelope being too nervous to even push herself up with enough power to make a solid handstand. Clementine managed a little but her legs were off and she ended up falling sideways into the water, pulling herself back out with heavy coughs.

“I inhaled sea water! Bleh!” she pushed her hair out of her face as she climbed back on the board.

Daniel could only laugh at his sweet girls trying their hardest.

“Your turn, Daddy.” Penelope said.

“It’s not easy, thank you very much!” Lucy added.

He could only smile to himself as he set his hands tightly on the side of the board and leaned forward, carefully and slowly raising his legs up to keep his weight centred before finishing in a perfect handstand on the board.

The four girls simply gaped at him.

“It’s perfectly easy, Luce.” Daniel chuckled, his form earning a round of applause from the rest of the group as well as the instructor.

“Show off.” Clementine nudged his board with her paddle enough to get him to topple over into the water. His impact splashed Florence completely and nearly took her down with him, the whole family erupting in laughter as he surfaced again with his hair plastered over his forehead.

“You look like an egg, Daddy!” Lucy shrieked, laughing so hard she fell off her own board again.

Even the rest of the group laughed at the eight-year-old’s comment and Daniel ruffled a hand through his hair to try and give it some sort of volume.

“Not gonna work, baby.” Florence teased. “Not until it dries a little.”

“Come here.” Daniel swam a few paces over to her board where she sat with one leg on either side. He grabbed her arm and puckered out his lips for a kiss.

“Go away!” Florence laughed as he tried to pull her down to him.

“Pull her in the water!” Clementine said.

“No! Don’t you dare! Daniel!” Florence shrieked as he pushed himself out of the water just enough to wrap an arm around her waist and yanked her right off the board. She tried to stay on by linking her thighs tighter around the board, pushing her hand against his chest to try and keep him away from her. “Daniel James-!”

He cut her scream off by just flipping the board with her on it, taking himself down with her, submerging them both under water. Daniel pulled her to the surface, arms tucked around her waist to keep her from getting away, pressing a strong kiss to her lips as she pushed her hair out of her face.

“Oh my gosh, baby.” Florence flushed with embarrassment as the rest of the class looked on, her arms around his shoulders and their bodies pressed up tightly together in the water, but he just hid his proud smirk into her neck, leaving kisses over her wet skin.

“Oh my gosh is right.” Clementine rolled her eyes. “Get a room.”

[chaoskatya]

unfinished brooke x katya hatefuck fic

hi yall :^) so ive had this sitting in my drafts for a WHILE and ive barely dented the actual planned plot but still i felt like it was kind of a waste of what i did write to not ?? idk do something with it? this was originally written for AQ’s rarepair event but irl stuff got in the way so it never got finished, and i kinda lost the inspo to finish it (for now? idk) so here it is, posted unedited in however it was when i last touched it

brooke x katya hatefuck, (well, planned, i obv hadnt written that far) inspired by pics of trixie and brooke together that one time they were weirdly hanging out a lot irl and that one outfit brooke has that looks like that one outfit katya has the polkadot one u know it

“Ugh, I swear, Vi! She really has something against me! I think she hates me!”

Katya punctuates her sentence with a flail of her arms for emphasis before flopping back onto her bed. Violet just rolls her eyes at her roommate’s dramatics, as per usual. This is the third time they’ve had this conversation this week.

“So she’s a little icy, what of it? It’s not like you’re not used to having a mega bitch around, you live with me,” Violet responds plainly, not even bothering to look up from her laptop, “and I don’t think anybody could hate you, Kat.”

Katya huffs at that. “No, I swear, she hates me.”

Katya Zamolodchikova is absolutely sure of three things in her university life: One, Trixie Mattel is her best friend. Two, nothing gets in between her and Trixie. Three, Brooke Lynn Hytes is absolutely making her best fucking attempt.

Katya and Trixie had met last year, Katya being a sophomore in visual arts and Trixie a freshman in musical theater, when Katya had accidentally crashed Ginger’s (kind of pathetic) attempt at being a tour guide for the freshmen of her course. They’ve only known each other for a year, but ever since then the two quickly became inseparable and a year had felt like a lifetime. All of their friends knew, and Katya held it close to her heart, that nothing could possibly stand in their way. That is, until the beginning of this semester.

Trixie had been elected as class representative at the start of their sophomore year, which did not surprise Katya one bit. But that meant that when Canadian exchange student Brooke Lynn Hytes had arrived for the semester, it was Trixie’s job to show her around and make her feel welcomed. And being that Brooke’s degree in classical dance meant her and Trixie had quite a few overlapping classes, the two hit it off and had gotten closer and closer since. It’s only half way through the semester, yet Katya feels as though she’s slowly becoming more and more of a background character in Trixie’s life. They still text each other when they can, but hangout times have slowly grown increasingly thin and so has Katya’s sanity. Not that it’s Trixie’s fault, of course…

“I can’t explain it. But I promise, it’s almost like she’s purposefully occupying Trixie from me! Every time it looks like we might get a chance to even just talk, she’s there coming round the corner asking Trixie for help in one of their classes or for show recs or whatever. And she always looks me dead in the eye, with her stupid fucking smirk, like she knows what she just did! I can’t explain the feeling I get when I see her!”

Katya’s hit full ranting steam now, half hanging off her bed still flailing as animated as ever.

Violet shuts her laptop and turns to face her. “Mama, sounds like you hate her. Sure it’s not just in your head because you’re jealous the amazon’s occupying your barbie?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jealous? I guess?” Katya scrunches up her face and sits up. “I mean, how could I not be? With her stupid long legs and her flowing blonde hair, like god, Vi, she’s practically perfect! And have you seen her dance?”

Katya turns to pose her question, but Violet is just staring, giving her a look she can’t decipher. She continues,

“So then, fine, of course I’m jealous, but that’s because Trix is my best friend. I barely see her anymore, and when I do she’s always there and I just get so riled up! And I’m sure Trix has started to notice because god I just can’t stand it when she’s near, it just sets me alight in an awful way. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before!” And it’s true, Katya really does not think of herself as someone capable of fully hating someone else. But by god, is Brooke really testing that.

Violet scoffs, turning away to open her laptop once more. “Look Mary, all I gotta say is that that’s an awful lot of emotion for some best friend jealousy. Also, you have a lecture starting in ten minutes.”

Fuck! Katya checks her watch and immediately jumps up to scramble for her belongings, deeply thankful for her roommate’s type A tendencies yet internally chastising herself for allowing her ranting to consume her time like that. She quickly kisses Violet on the cheek and bids her farewell before putting on her boots and heading out of their dorm room to make her best effort to speed walk to class.

But as luck would have it, not that Katya has a lot of it, she quite literally walks right into the subject of their prior conversation. Well, speak of the devils…

“Oh! Trixie, hi!” Katya laughs, immediately reacting to steady Trixie from where Katya had almost knocked her over with the door. From the way she was standing, she figured she had opened the door just as Trixie was about knock.

“Katya! Thank god, I was worried you wouldn’t be in,” Trixie smiles back brightly, smoothing her fluffy golden hair back into place. (Not that it’s ever really out of place, Katya thinks to herself.) 

Katya smiles at her, a sight for sore eyes she thinks, but when she realizes Brooke is standing at the end of the hall waiting for Trixie, her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Whether Trixie noticed Katya’s tension or not, she didn’t let on. At least Brooke had the decency to wait at a reasonable distance.

“Uh, yeah, I was just heading out though,” Katya replies, trying her best to look sympathetic. She doesn’t mind that she’s running late anymore, just feels bad she even has to go. “But did you need something?”

Trixie looks equally as sympathetic. “Yeah, uh, listen, I’m really sorry. I know we haven’t been able to hang recently and I’m really sorry for that, midterms and all…”

“Hey, it’s alright, I knew you were busy. It’s no problem, really.” That’s a lie.

“But now that it’s over, let’s celebrate! Let me make it up to you? Be my date to the Edwards party tonight?”

Katya’s smile softens. As much as she was planning to trade in the party for a well-deserved movie night in with Violet and Pearl, she finds she really can’t say no to Trixie, especially not when she’s looking at her like an apologetic puppy. Whipped.

“Down for anything with you, Barbie. Meet you at the dorm hall at 8?”

Trixie squeals and picks Katya up by the middle, “AAAAAAAH yes!! See you bitch!!”

Katya squirms violently to be put down but laughs it off anyway. She really can’t be too mad at her best friend.

“Anyway, I gotta run, see you later Trix!” She rushes to hug Trixie quickly once more before escaping as briskly yet casually as she can out the door. This fails her when all semblance of casualty is lost as she passes the point where Brooke is, all tall and blonde and beautiful even just standing around. As she passes, her gaze quite obviously steels ahead to avoid looking Brooke in the eye, but she can’t fail to catch the quite obvious smug smirk the Canadian has posed on her painted lips.

----

Katya managed to make it to class with only 5 minutes late, thankfully just as her professor was entering the other door. She plops down into her usual seat with an audible groan and immediately drops her head in her hands.

Brooke. Stupid fucking Brooke Lynn Hytes. Lately, Katya’s wandering thoughts always go back to her. There hasn’t been a time where her idle time hasn’t been haunted by a certain ballerina chipping away at her precious concentration. She sees perfect long blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and tone legs that go all the way up. 

If she’s being completely honest with herself, she is just a bit jealous of Brooke but not for the reasons Violet insinuates. I mean, sure, she misses Trixie to bits. But that’s only one of the many straws on the camel that is Katya’s completely rational anger. 

It’s not that she’s perfect, either, but that sure adds another straw. Seemingly introverted, but able to capture the hearts of anyone in her path through quick and honest charm. Graceful and poised, where Katya is not, and tall and curvy, where Katya is not. Katya really doesn’t understand how someone can attend 7am dance classes with a flawless mug and still leave rehearsals with not an eyelash out of place, it’s inhuman.

No, it’s that no matter how much others testify on her behalf, Katya does not understand it. She doesn’t know what she did, but she has somehow done something to aggravate Brooke against her, and it bothers her endlessly that she doesn’t even know what she did to incur such spite. Katya doesn’t see any of the charm or kindness that others profess, only smug smirks and cocky passive-aggressive jabs and a seemingly passionate desire to find any way she can to poke Katya’s buttons and prompt some kind of response. She’s lucky Katya has a lot more self control than most, and she’s restrained herself from biting back thus far.

She thinks back to the first time she spotted Brooke, on the first day of the semester when Katya had gotten bored and decided to drop in on Trixie’s representative duties despite explicit instructions not to intrude. She had found her in one of the gardens of the student commons, and instinctively made her way to run up and tackle her before realizing Trixie wasn’t alone and stopping dead in her tracks.

Trixie was sitting next to someone Katya didn’t recognize, which was a surprise in itself because Katya knew next to everybody personally in their modestly sized arts college.  The girl was sitting next to Trixie on a bench, both hands holding one of Trixie’s own as Trixie appeared to animatedly be telling some story. Trixie then finally noticed Katya frozen standing awkwardly at some distance and paused in the middle of her speech to yell at Katya and becon her over. 

“Katya! This is Brooke Lynn, a Canadian exchange student for the semester. Brooke, this is Katya, my best friend!”

Brooke lazily shifted her gaze from Trixie to give Katya the once over, glancing her up and down. Whatever she saw, she suddenly stood up and crowded into Katya’s space, gazing down at her intensely directly from the advantage their clear height difference gave her.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you… Katya.” 

And on her lips, the same painted red smirk. The same stupid smirk that would continuously haunt her until…

“Kat, you with us girl?” Hissed Pearl in her ear, jabbing her hard in the side.

[beca-mitchell]

the world’s ours (1/1)

summary: A stolen moment. Alternative ending to PP3. Established relationship. Rated M/E. Basically PWP. Apologies.

word count: 5075

a/n: i’m not even sure where this came from. Inspired loosely by this beautiful piece of art by @setaptadraw as well as Bazzi’s “Cartier”. In fact, his entire album is great inspo.

Enjoy!

Also on AO3.

For a moment, Chloe pauses just to observe Beca and the way she casually leans against the old stone. Even from the distance, Chloe can see that Beca’s eyes are glimmering with a mix of tears, excitement, and awe from the whole experience.

Chloe has never been more proud of Beca, as a teammate, best friend, and more recently, as a girlfriend.

Chloe wishes that it had all been born of something more romantic – like a heartfelt, tearful confession of love. But really, she had just been sitting at their tiny breakfast table in Brooklyn and she had been watching Beca struggle to balance two cups of tea for their morning ritual.

Chloe would be remiss if she didn’t admit that her feelings for Beca had never really gone away – not since she had come to terms with the depth of said feelings sometime near the end of Beca’s freshman year.

And upon seeing Beca at that tiny kitchen table, hair tousled from sleep and a moderately disgruntled expression on her face, Chloe had quietly asked if Beca would mind terribly if she kissed her right then and there.

Beca had been surprised, but pleasantly and shyly so – and that had been their first kiss amidst many more to come.

Keeping it a secret had been difficult at first, but it’s something that they want just for themselves. It’s not that they’re actively trying to keep it away from everybody, but it manifests out of a selfish need to just have something to call their own especially when so much of their lives have been jointly lived with many other people at any given time.

At that moment, Beca’s eyes flick to her own and she zeroes in on Chloe, a small smile gracing her face. She is ignorant then to the many voices and people clamoring for her attention, just as Chloe can’t imagine seeing anybody else but Beca in that moment.

(Vaguely, she wonders how long this has been the case for her – the fact that she has eyes for Beca and Beca only, more often than not.)

Even with such a huge change in her life, Beca carries herself just as she has all those years ago when Chloe first met her at Barden – all confident and slightly awkward glory and a humbleness that is still unparalleled after all these years.

And, Chloe thinks, she looks incredibly beautiful and she would like nothing more than to kiss her.

But she also knows that they have a very small window before the Bellas come looking for either her or Beca to celebrate their last full evening in Europe.

“Hello,” Chloe greets as Beca nears. Beca holds her hand, leading her to an even more secluded area. “That was incredible.”

“I love you,” Beca says.

It makes Chloe inhale sharply at first, then deeply.

It’s not that she says it casually that throws Chloe – this is not the first time Beca has said this to her. They first exchanged more-than-platonic ‘I love yous’ more than three and a half months ago, near the beginning of their dating period after the realization that every year they did not spend together in a romantic capacity was just a year wasted.

No, it’s the fact that Chloe still can’t believe that Beca is hers to love and cherish through everything and she’s going to do everything in her power to keep her.

“I love you, too,” Chloe murmurs, voice sticking in her throat. She tries to blink back the unexpected tears to no avail, trying not to shiver when Beca’s thumb comes up to swipe at them before her hand lingers on Chloe’s cheek.

“Say it again,” Beca implores, eyes searching.

Chloe raises her eyebrow slightly at the change in Beca’s eyes, wondering if she’d be correct in assessing the gentle heat in her body as a response to the intensity in her favourite blues.

“I love you,” she says, though she can’t help that her voice is thicker – though it has less so to do with emotion and more so with the way Beca steps closer so that her body is just barely grazing Chloe’s, teasing her.

Beca doesn’t say anything. Instead, she puts a hand around the back of Chloe’s neck and pulls her down for a kiss – one that is definitely reserved for the privacy of their bedroom, or rather, their bed. It makes a shiver ripple up Chloe’s spine as she thinks of everything she and Beca can get up to if they could just steal away to their hotel room for the night.

There aren’t any people around, so Chloe allows herself to indulge a little. She allows herself to back Beca up against the closest wall so she can lean into Beca’s body as much as she wants. She loves how neatly Beca’s body fits into her own, even when Beca’s heels make their height difference (already and admittedly very minor) even more minuscule.

Beca eagerly responds, head tilting just enough so that her lips slot neatly and perfectly right against Chloe’s. She slides a hand around to push under Chloe’s jacket and rake up her back teasingly. The pressure of Beca’s fingers through the fabric of her dress is enough to make Chloe sigh happily into the kiss.

“We should stop,” Chloe murmurs, once she manages to detach herself from Beca’s mouth. She leans back in to steal another kiss, inhaling sharply when Beca only tightens her hold, and uses her tongue to pry Chloe’s lips apart.

Moaning quietly, Chloe tries to ground herself enough to remind Beca that they have commitments, but Beca appears to be committed to sliding her lips leisurely down her neck, nipping at every weak spot Chloe has while her hand boldly slides down her back, dangerously close to her ass.

Chloe pauses, stopping Beca’s hand from sliding too low, lest she accidently pulls the skirt of her dress up too high.

“What?” Beca asks, pouting.

Chloe kisses her quickly to placate her, smiling against Beca’s lips when Beca responds eagerly with both tongue and wandering hands. “Not here. Later,” she murmurs, trying to steer Beca’s mind back on track.

“I don’t understand how you do it,” Beca mumbles, leaning into Chloe again and pushing off the wall. She pulls Chloe into her body, eyes fluttering shut as her lips find Chloe’s instinctively. She can still feel the ebbs of her performance high rolling off her in waves, turning into something more primal as she simply takes in how good it feels to have Chloe by her side and how nice it feels to have Chloe’s body pressed against her own intimately.

“Do what?” Chloe asks quietly, reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair away from Beca’s face.

“Flip from sexy to…” she tilts her head. “This, in the blink of an eye.”

Chloe laughs at that, tugging at her hands. To placate Beca and her pouting, she quickly presses a soft kiss against Beca’s lips, although she does so quickly because she knows that people are wondering where Beca disappeared to – though Chloe’s not too sure either of them are too bothered about being caught. “We should find the girls before they send out a search party for you.”

It turns out that their first stop is a private party at a vacated loft. Beca has to give props to DJ Khaled and his team for pulling this together. As excited as she is to finally move to L.A. and work on something meaningful, she’s going to miss her friends – her family – and of course, she’s going to miss Chloe.

“Guess what,” Chloe whispers, looping an arm around Beca’s waist when she finds her alone, pouring a drink for herself. She’s a little disappointed Beca opted to change into black jeans and a jacket as opposed to that fun number she had on for the performance, but regardless, she still thinks Beca looks beautiful. She leans over Beca’s shoulder, making sure to press as much of her body as she can against Beca, molding against her back. The comfort she gets from the warmth of Beca’s slightly smaller body against her own still never gets old.

A slow smile spreads across Beca's face as she leans back into her girlfriend, forgoing the drink for the moment. “What?” Beca asks, lacing their fingers together against her stomach.

Chloe pauses for a moment, shifting so she can reach for the drink Beca had been holding. She takes a generous sip before setting the cup back down. Tilting her head, she presses a kiss against Beca’s neck as best as she can, letting her lips linger. Cool from the drink, her lips relish the warmth of Beca’s skin and she stifles the grin at the quiet sound that just barely escapes Beca’s throat. “I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world and I’ve never been more proud of her.” She lets her words stick – rather, she lets her mouth ghost over the skin of Beca’s neck, heating up her flesh even more with the warm air of her breath.

There’s something thrilling about being intimate with Beca like this, in nearly full view of all their friends. They’re separated by a mere wall and at any moment, somebody could come along and poke their head into the kitchen just to see Chloe Beale feeling up Beca Mitchell without a care in the world.

“Sounds like she deserves some kind of reward,” Beca suggests, eyes fluttering shut when Chloe’s other hand moves over her hip, sliding teasingly just beneath the hems of both her hoodie and her t-shirt. Beca leans back, letting the sounds of their raucous, noisy friends fade away. Chloe’s breath stutters out over her neck and shoulder as she nudges at the fabric of Beca’s sweater to try an access more skin.

Beca isn’t expecting what Chloe says next. “Maybe she does,” she murmurs before kissing the space behind her ear.

Beca definitely isn’t expecting Chloe’s hand to slide teasingly around her body in order to stuff her crumpled panties into the front pocket of her jeans.

Beca’s hand flies out to grip the counter tightly and she glances around furtively to make sure they’re fully alone before she moans quietly. Chloe’s hips press more intimately against her just as she chuckles into Beca’s neck again.

Beca shifts her stance and turns her head to stare at her incredulously. “What?” she chokes out. “What did you-?”

“Surprise, babe,” Chloe says, allowing a small grin to flit across her face. Beca’s eyes flick down to her lips. “It’s for later,” she says, winking. “Or for whenever, really,” Chloe says lightly, pushing herself away when she hears footsteps approaching. Winking once more at Beca, barely resisting a smirk at her girlfriend’s slightly gobsmacked expression, she busies herself with pouring herself another drink while Beca is engulfed by Jessica and Flo in a huge, drunken hug.

Beca can’t help but gaze back at Chloe, hoping that she’s blazing as much of a trail across Chloe’s body as she can. Chloe raises an eyebrow at her in response, though there’s a telltale smile behind the rim of the cup that she brings to her lips and her eyes are alight with an easy warmth and love that only makes Beca fall in love just a little bit more.

Chloe's back thuds hard against the bathroom door.

Beca’s hands immediately work on moving her dress up, ensuring that the fabric tightly bunches up around her upper thighs and hips. Chloe whimpers at the absolute lust-addled expression on Beca’s face as she leans in to press the barest of kisses against the overheated and sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

“They’re going to look for us,” Beca mumbles between kisses. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“O-kay,” Chloe moans out, stuttering across the syllables. She presses both her hands into Beca’s hair, trying to push her along.

“I can't stop,” Beca whispers before hoisting a leg over her shoulder, seemingly making the decision for both of them. Chloe’s very nearly eyes cross at the abrupt action before she squeezes them shut at the sensation and sound of Beca’s lips working and sucking at her inner thigh. “I’m not going to stop for anything,” Beca assures her, muffled and wet against her skin.

Chloe’s body feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. She’s not sure why Beca is still speaking, or how she’s formulating coherent words at all considering that Chloe thinks she short-circuited somewhere around the time Beca’s hand slipped low on her back and she had whispered exactly what she wanted to do to Chloe in the very nice bathroom of this very nice loft.

“You can't stop,” Chloe repeats, vaguely aware that she’s breathless. Beca’s lips latch on to her clit and suck mercilessly and unforgivingly. “Fuck!” she cries, feeling her entire body tense at once. She looks down for a moment to see Beca’s tight grip on her thighs and the way her eyes are half-lidded but staring determinedly up at Chloe while she adds the barest hint of her blunt, even teeth into the mix.

The sight makes her eyes immediately slam shut again and she’s simultaneously torn between finding the closest horizontal surface or just skipping out on all their friends and dragging Beca back to their hotel.

And yet, Beca is content with this medium – this in-between of fucking Chloe in the bathroom simply because she couldn’t wait any longer.

Chloe thinks she might relate to that sentiment, as she tightens her grip into Beca’s hair.

Gazing up Chloe’s body, Beca marvels at how beautiful Chloe looks, even slightly disheveled. The black dress and black leather jacket combination nearly shot Beca’s concentration to hell and back while she was on stage, but she is so, so grateful that Chloe opted to continue wearing the outfit late into the night.

Somehow, being with Chloe here feels more surreal than anything, mostly because Beca thinks how much her life has changed in the past few hours, but Chloe – Chloe is a certainty that she never wants to let go of.

Eyes falling shut, Beca revels in how fucking fantastic it feels to have Chloe tremble against her – how responsive Chloe’s body is to Beca’s fingers, tongues, and lips – she alternates without any real pattern, content to have Chloe coming apart under her expert guidance.

Her attraction to Chloe has never fizzled out; in fact, her attraction has only increased exponentially over the past few months now that she can vividly experience what it’s like to have Chloe Beale reduced to a shivering, breathless mess beneath her, above her – regardless of how often they’ve had sex at this point, Beca still thinks that watching Chloe come undone is one of the most beautiful sights she’s ever seen.

Tracing her tongue over Chloe’s clit just once more, she lets her fingers thrust up and into Chloe just a bit harder, grinning at the strangled gasp that Chloe emits before she drives a steady pace into her girlfriend. The high of performing still rushes through her and she feels the ebbs of confidence coming in waves.

Chloe gasps out, pulling at Beca’s hair just enough to get her attention. Her chest tightens as she tugs Beca up to kiss her thoroughly, earning a surprised inhale from her girlfriend. Vaguely tasting herself on Beca’s lips and tongue, Chloe curls a hand around the back of Beca’s neck to hold her closer while the other hand begins to unbutton Beca’s jeans.

“You didn’t-” Beca begins to say between kisses.

Chloe shuts her up the best way she knows how: by kissing her. It is by far the most effective way and her favourite way.

Chloe shoves Beca down on top of the closed toilet seat, thanking some vague force that the bathroom is clean. Beca catches herself just in time, a hand coming up to press against the wall while the other holds tight to the back of Chloe’s neck to keep their lips fused together.

Tearing her mouth away from Beca, Chloe takes a moment to heave a breath as she notes Beca is a similar state of breathlessness. Beca’s cheeks are flushed with arousal and her lips are swollen, leaving her looking like she has already been thoroughly debauched. Chloe grins at the thoughts that flit through her mind, though she resumes her steadfast determination as she crouches, very aware of how Beca’s eyes track her movements.

Resting on her knees momentarily, she runs her hands from Beca’s knees to her thighs and finally to her hips in order to finally tug Beca’s jeans down. She bites her lip at the little scrap of lace Beca is currently sporting and raises her eyebrow at Beca, tugging at the material with a finger. “This is nice,” she rasps, only barely managing to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Beca is less capable and clears her throat, blinking hazily down at Chloe like she still can’t quite believe it’s happening.

“Very nice,” Chloe murmurs, resting her hands on Beca’s thighs in order to better lean up to meet her girlfriend for a kiss. Beca cups a hand around her neck immediately and kisses her – a reminder that every kiss they share feels like the first over and over again.

While Chloe nips playfully at Beca’s lips, easing herself out of the passionate embrace slowly, she skims a hand down Beca’s stomach and grazes the front of the lace – lets her fingers dip down ever so slightly. She pulls back completely to watch her progress, panting out across Beca’s lips and feeling an answering exhale against her own face.

Beca’s legs spread just very slightly, like she could be persuaded to spread them further. The inexplicable shyness only makes a whine stick in Chloe’s throat as she gently nudges Beca’s knees apart. Even through the lace, she can tell how wet Beca is – how ready she is for Chloe.

“May I?” Chloe asks, politely if anything, as she tugs at the waistband.

“God, yes,” Beca replies instantly, her hands immediately flying to Chloe’s shoulders as she lifts just enough for Chloe to tug her underwear down.

“I fucking love you,” Chloe says instantly, kissing a hot trail up Beca’s thigh. She hears the dull thud of Beca’s head dropping back against the wall and feels the telltale clench of Beca’s fingers in her hair. “Do you know how fucking good you looked tonight?” she asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Baby,” Beca begs, already delirious from Chloe’s breath against her center and the added joy of hearing Chloe curse simply because she can no longer contain herself. “Fuck me, please.”

Chloe moans, her hand flying between her own legs for a moment just to alleviate the unattended and abruptly-abandoned pressure. She kisses Beca’s inner thighs, licking a long strip up towards where she wants to touch Beca the most.

So she does.

Beca cries out at the first touch of Chloe’s tongue and lips to her center; it is a messy, heated, wet kiss that makes Beca’s hand tighten into her hair to a nearly-painful threshold.

Chloe coaxes Beca along the waves of pleasure, noting all the signs and tells of Beca’s impending orgasm. She digs her fingertips into the tops of Beca’s thighs, holding her steady while her tongue steadily pushes against and into her girlfriend. Chloe hums a little against wet flesh, slowly pressing through with a consistent pace.

Chloe alternates between pressing her tongue into Beca and taking swollen flesh between her lips. She tilts her head as best as she can, but Beca’s thighs have all but clamped around her ears, though they do little to drown out the sounds Beca has begun to emit – the high-pitched whimpers and occasional grunts. Once Chloe’s maneuvers her fingers to press firmly against Beca’s clit as best as she can, she hears Beca’s long, drawn-out moan and feels further pressure around her ears. Chloe moans quietly in response into Beca’s skin, nearly sighing at the familiar sensation of Beca coming apart above her.

Distantly, Chloe is only slightly aware of her own hand moving between her legs in an attempt to quell the tension.

For a moment, all Beca can do is remain still to catch her breath, only vaguely aware of Chloe slowly untangling her fingers from auburn curls. Beca thinks her body has forgotten a few basic functions like swallowing and possibly breathing as she takes huge gulps of air into her lungs.

When she manages to turn her gaze onto Chloe, she sees her girlfriend looking no worse for wear, albeit slightly smug, if anything. She frowns at the sight, pouting playfully. There’s more than a hint of unresolved arousal in Chloe’s eyes, though she looks concerned for Beca’s well-being first and foremost.

Chloe leans forward to press a kiss to Beca’s knee, eyes still fixed on her face with utmost care.

“C’mere,” Beca rasps, eyes half-lidded and determined. “Up,” she says softly. “Please.”

“Okay,” Chloe whispers against soft skin. She feels Beca tug at her hair, as if trying to pull her up and she rises, letting Beca pull at her previously occupied hand in order to suck her fingers into her mouth. Chloe watches Beca’s eyes, transfixed by the shiny dark blue, as she sinks onto Beca’s lap.

“Ride me,” Beca demands, kissing at Chloe’s fingertips. Chloe shivers at the intensity of Beca’s gaze, realizing that Beca had looked equally intense and passionate while she had been on stage. It only makes Chloe want her more than ever – a reminder that Beca and music and passion are so unrestrainedly intertwined.

Hooking one arm around Beca’s neck and the other cupping her cheek, Chloe leans in for a kiss while Beca’s hands work frantically at trying to unzip the back of her dress. Neither of them are looking for anything soft and sweet at the moment. When Beca successfully unzips her dress, she pushes at the fabric until the top half falls to meet the skirt around her waist and hips and Beca’s hand immediately flies to cup a breast, thumb expertly finding Chloe’s nipple. Chloe tugs at Beca’s lower lip, grinding up Beca’s lap, feeling heat against molten heat. Beca grunts into the kiss, a hand moving between them to cup Chloe suddenly. Chloe jolts at the contact, both of them moaning quietly at the sensation of Beca’s warm hand against the pooling wetness between Chloe’s legs.

Beca is addicted to how Chloe feels against her. Even now, with their clothes only half off, in the bathroom of a nondescript loft, and their friends likely looking for them – all Beca wants is to hear the sounds Chloe makes when she goes down on her, or when she’s two fingers deep inside her. She isn’t picky. She loves how desperately they want each other.

A loud knock startles them right out of their bubble, Beca only just managing to hold Chloe to her lest she fall to the ground completely.

“Chloe? Are you in there?”

It’s Aubrey.

Chloe freezes and locks up.

“Chloe?”

Aubrey’s persistence is very much unappreciated at the moment.

“Shit,” Chloe mutters. The haze doesn’t dissipate. She can feel Beca’s smirk against her neck, where she has taken up refuge for the time being. “Uh – ye-yes!” she calls back just as Beca nips leisurely along her collarbone.

“Found her!” Aubrey calls out to somebody else behind the door.

Chloe stifles a loud gasp as Beca’s fingers slide inside her mercilessly. Resisting the urge to cry out, Chloe tries to pay attention to what Aubrey is asking. It is difficult when her entire existence is occupied by Beca – she feels Beca consuming every inch of her, like she always has.

“-seen Beca? We’re going to head out to the club down the street. We should leave soon.”

“I – fuck – no, no I ha-” Chloe chokes as Beca’s fingers start moving in and out of her. “I haven’t seen her – she’s probably just ta-taking a c-call! Outs-outside!” The last syllable comes out on a near scream and Chloe hopes to God that Aubrey takes the hint because Beca sure isn’t helping her in that moment. Her heart races wildly.

She thinks Aubrey says something in the affirmative, but she can’t be certain because Beca’s fingers curl just then. Barely waiting for Aubrey’s footsteps to disappear, Chloe gasps out, holding Beca’s face against her chest and neck as her hips finally begin to move in earnest against Beca’s body.

“Jesus, yes,” Beca half-moans, half-grunts against her neck when she clenches around Beca’s fingers. “You feel so good, Chlo.”

“We need to stop,” Chloe murmurs, making no move to stop. Instead, she holds tighter to Beca with one hand and lets the other fly out to the wall behind Beca’s head to keep herself upright. Beca’s arm curls tighter around her waist. “We have to go, we need to go,” Chloe repeats, eyes slipping shut just as Beca’s hand finds its way between her thighs.

Beca doesn’t seem to take this as encouragement to move faster as her hand continues to move leisurely between Chloe’s legs in both a teasing and exploratory fashion. It makes Chloe grit her teeth; it’s just at the cusp of too much, especially when she has the memory of what Beca had looked like on stage, so confident and sure, it’s just-

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Chloe barely resists from cursing; such crude, crude, dirty words were just on the tip of her tongue, but she fixes Beca with as best a glare as she can prompting her to hurry up, lest she screams each disjointed thought flitting through her mind.  The knowledge that their friends are lingering – somehow still nearby – only makes Chloe’s body flare up with arousal and desire once more.

Barely coherent, just as Beca’s thumb swipes over her clit, Chloe manages to exhale, though it’s noisy and she can’t help the smallest moan when Beca kisses her, a little aggressively, as if to stifle the noise. “Bec,” she whimpers against Beca’s mouth, letting her girlfriend swallow the noises. “God, do we n-need to stop?”

“No.” Beca whimpers back, trying to focus on the expressions slipping across Chloe’s face. She loves how expressive Chloe is – how vibrant and alive she is in everything she does and especially when now when Beca has two fingers deep inside her, fucking her steadily with the intensity of somebody just coming down from a high of the biggest performance of her life. Still – she can only manage so much. The pressure only intensifies between her own legs and the way Chloe’s head tilts to mouth at her neck isn’t helping – not that Beca wants to stop, by any means. “Fuck,” Beca curses, voice thick and low with unadulterated lust. Chloe has always known how worked up Beca gets after a performance, though of course, this element of heightened arousal is a new experience and Chloe finds herself blessed that she gets to experience it. She gets to experience it after what felt like hours of foreplay and teasing that led up to this.

“Chlo,” Beca whimpers, eyes squeezing shut.

Chloe doesn’t respond, not that she can at the moment. Chloe’s jacket is slipping off her shoulders attractively, followed by the loose fabric of her dress.

Finally, Chloe manages a moan, louder than she intends, followed by “I'm so c-close. So fucking close to coming.”

At that, Beca manages a short, desperate gasp, head tilting back and smacking hard against the wall.

Chloe considers herself – and Beca – blessed that the walls a thick enough and the bathroom is private because the high-pitched whine that leaves her throat is louder than she intends. It has a positive effect, however, because Beca’s arm tightens around her and the fingers inside her curl just slightly, pushing them even closer together. Chloe can feel her girlfriend gasp against her neck – short, staccato bursts.

Chloe’s scream is as muffled as she can make it, pressing her mouth against Beca’s shoulder. It rips through her, as intense as her orgasm.

Beca shivers at the force of it and how tightly Chloe tenses around her fingers – it elicits a similar response from between her own legs, causing her to whimper helplessly into Chloe’s neck as best as she can.

Chloe drops her head against Beca's shoulder, her shoulders and chest heaving with the force of her breaths.

Through rough, erratic pants, Beca steadies herself, hands rubbing across the skin of Chloe’s hips and waist. Chloe can only manage a gentle knock of her forehead against Beca’s, staring right into her eyes as she regulates her breathing.

As much as she’d like to continue and spend all night tangled up in Chloe’s arms, after a moment of silence, Beca says as helpfully as she can muster, “we need to go. We should go before they come looking for us again.”

She says this like Chloe hadn’t tried to stop her earlier, with this exact reasoning.

Chloe rolls her eyes.

Still, as Chloe feels her heartbeat slow and the tension slowly uncoil from Beca’s arm wrapped around her waist, it settles in her mind that their lives did just change forever only a few hours ago.

There’s a part of her that doesn’t necessarily know where this journey will take them, but she knows with certainty that she’s going to be by Beca’s side through it all.

“They can wait for a bit,” Chloe suggests, thumbing at the corner of Beca’s mouth. Her eyes soften as she gazes down at Beca. “Tell me you love me,” she whispers, cupping Beca’s cheek tenderly.

Beca’s breathing has only just evened out, but she tilts up to meet Chloe’s lips in a kiss, generously parting her lips with a gentleness that belies her previous actions. “I love you,” she murmurs, eyes closing to better appreciate the moment. “I love you,” she repeats, kissing the corner of Chloe’s mouth. She trails kisses down to her neck, nipping gently and slowly here and there.

Chloe smiles, tucking herself closer to Beca as best as she can. Sliding her fingers through her hair, she holds Beca close before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too, Beca.”

Another stolen moment to tuck away in their memories; another stolen moment for the road.

fin.

[movedto-insom-art]

hi!! i just found you while poking around for gobelins students on twitter and i love your art, congratulations on passing!! i was wondering if you have any advice on the written exam or tips on how to prepare for it? i heard that the written exam can be given in english if french isn't your first language...

I’ll try to be very concise about this andmaybe pin it to my profile because I was in your shoes exactly a year ago, andif I made it here I think you have a considerable chance of making it too as long as you’re willing to put work into it. I want totell you what I wish I had been told.

Disclaimer: I’m definitely not the best personto ask. I’m self-taught and my situation may and will differ a lot from yours,but on top of that, bear in mind Gobelins has a ~5% admission rate. During theinterview I shared room with a person who had a stunning portfolio and had been doing two years of prepclasses to get in Gobelins specifically and didn’t get in. I don’t even understand what brought me in, but I will try to at least give you a detailedguide of what *I* did to prepare.

Important: READ THE “MODALITÉSD'ADMISSION” DOCUMENT THREE TIMES AT LEAST. It has so much usefulinformation and so many points you can’t afford to skip. If your French isflaky, ask for a friend who speaks it fluently to help you out. You *must*understand it fully if you want to get in and avoid needless calls to theschool.

Also, keep an eye on the website often. Allthe information I provide here vis a vis dates only applies to a time periodthat’s already gone and I can’t predict if the dates will be exactly the sameevery year, so double check for yourself!

French

If you don’t speak French now start asap, anddo your Duolingo and “Apprendre le Français avec TVMonde” exercisesevery day. The lessons for the 4-year program are in French and while they canbe understanding with foreigners I just strongly recommend for the sake ofcommon sense that you pick up the language, just to make the most of the chanceif you’re given it.

However, you can def do the written exam in English! The exam will be printed and handed to you in both languages, it’s not so much a test to see your writing skills (ironically) than it is to prove your drawing ones.

If you pass that first round, while they won’t require any certification, they *will* test how good you are understanding and responding in French during the interview process of the second round.

I also recommend you take special conversational classeswith a private teacher or with a French speaker the couple of weeks before theoral exam to really gain fluidity, it makes a difference.

Mental Health

Preparing for all this will be sustainedstress over a long period of time. While it’ll be intensive and will demand alot of you, bear in mind that a mentality of “every minute I spend notworking on this is a minute lost” is only going to harm you. It’s alrightto take breaks, have a social life, and space for leisure while you do prepwork. It’s alright to not be drawing every single hour and rest your mind soyou can go back to work with all your might.

Try to be demanding and to pushyourself out of your comfort zone, but do it at your own pace and alwaysleaving space for breaks and stuff that will take your mind away from it whenyou need to, like friends, videogames, or just drawing for fun. A healthy business to leisure ratio is always between ½ and 2/3.

Meditate if you can, too, just 10-15 minutesevery day. I recommend the Headspace app and it has helped me keep my coolduring really tense moments.

Open Days

Go to the open days at Gobelins in January ifyou can! I took a plane for the weekend just to go, it was expensive but Ireally, really do not regret it. Here’s why:

DONOT MISS THE FIRST DAY. They hold portfolio reviews and while you may not haveyours ready just yet, it’s the perfect chance to get an insider point of viewof how well you’re doing right now and how far from your goal you are. Make aprovisional one (or do like I did and just make a tumblr blog and throw inwhatever you’d want them to assess) and arrive early to ask for a spot at thequeue.

Youget to talk to other first-year students, who will showcase their portfolio andanswer all your questions about the admission process, the school and whateverother questions you may have.

Youget to attend conferences where they explain each of their programs in detail,and the head of the department will also answer all yourquestions.

Admissions usually open right in the middle of the open days. By all means grab a seat at the computer room and save yourself a spot in the exam process asap.

Also,if you’re a foreigner like me, you should totally go to the international classand see if you can spot somebody from your same country (or who at least speaksyour language) to hang out with for a bit.

Site note: That international class is adirect entry to 3rd year specifically for English-speaking students who alreadyhave animation experience. I didn’t apply for that so I can’t tell you muchabout it, but it’s definitely worth checking out if you want in, they say it’seasier than the main track, too.

Preparing for the written exams

First off, draw every day. Even if it’s notprep work or studies all the time, you can indulge in your OCs, OTPs, whatevermakes your heart race, but draw it and do it every day. It doesn’t have to beideal or finished either, but what really matters is that you get used todrawing a lot and make a habit of it. Quantity, consistency and speed areimportant skills for animators to have as I’ve been told and they will be looking for it since one of the parts of the inteview includes evaluating how much paper you’ve filled in a year.

Grab all the exams you can get a hold of fromthe Gobelins site and do them in the specified time (they’re on the Concepteuret Realisateur de Film d'Animation class page). When you’re done with that do themagain. Ask for feedback from your teachers and improve on them. Take aperspective book (I recommend “Perspective for Comic Artists”), take a gesturedrawing book (“The Vilppu Drawing Manual” or “Gesture drawingfor animation”), take a storyboarding and character design class (I tookSchoolism’s, which are 15$/month per class, it’s very affordable) and that’llgive you a good frame of reference. And when you’re done with the exams andknow them by heart, make your own exercises. Then do the exams again. Andalways ask for feedback, critique to train yourself against every weak pointthat you don’t want the jury to catch you doing when you do the actual exam.

Sign up for figure drawing class right now,with or without teacher (I signed up to an art club without one), the soonerthe better, and go there frequently, once or twice per week, to the short posessessions (up to 15 minutes per pose, 2 to 5 minutes would be ideal). Don’tbother doing portraits or long poses because again, what you want is to producea lot, fast. Put a lot of focus on gesture drawing, movement and speed. It’llnot only be a big chunk of your portfolio if you do pass the first round, butit hones your draftsmanship like no other exercise. You can additionally trainat home with websites like QuickPoses or the New Masters Academy figure drawingvideos, but I’d really want to stress that live models work so much bettersince they force you to interpret a 3D person.

Go to your local zoo as well, once a week oronce a fortnight, and do animal studies. If you can bring a friend it’ll help alot making it more fun but try to get used to drawing shapes that are nothuman. Understand their anatomy and try to apply what you’re learning aboutgesture from the figure drawing classes.

Draw in the street, in museums, go to a placethat inspires you or that you find curious and draw it. Draw the people topractice your characterization and caricature skills. Draw buildings to showyour perspective skills. And just whatever catches your eye. Environments and perspective are important and I strongly recommend you start by drawing from observation.

If you have a cool idea in mind or find agood exercise on tumblr to try that isn’t this, do it! The teachers appreciateinterest in several fields and if you can showcase that you’re a curiousstudent with plenty of interests they’ll consider you more seriously. I didconcept art and digital painting on the side and it ended up being a mainthing of my personal project.

And finally, go to @gobelins andraid it for advice, it’s a great point of reference to start with as well. Goto the current @crfa20 and past CRFA blogs to see what the students are up to if youwant inspo and check their profiles too.

Do this for the whole year.

Admissions open inJanuary and the earlier you can sign in the better (especially if you are aforeigner like me, you must get the equivalence with French studies recognizedofficially asap, it usually takes a while to get and it’s necessary).

On a side note, for the written exam, simplifyyour tools. You don’t have much time to elaborate or fix your mistakes so Iwould recommend you do your practice with pens (so you get used to not erasinglines and being confident with your strokes) and pencils (especially if you canget both regular, mechanical and color pencils to layer your drawings forcomplex exercises like perspective). During the exam don’t even think aboutbringing pens in case you do make mistakes you need to erase though, they arejust really good training.

Side note: if you can, all this while, make space for personal projects.Nothing that you must finish, but just produce a lot of your own content. Pick apodcast and do visual development for it, do fanart, iterate on a movie’s shots, developyour own stories through visual storytelling, do character design, storyboards,comics. Steal ideas if you must to get the creative juices flowing (but don’tpost it or pretend they are your own :V). Get acquainted with projects, explore a fewideas so that the moment you’re out of the exam room when you’re done with thewritten exam you not only have a deck of projects to choose from but are alsoacquainted with the process of carrying one forward (and also have a littlework already done).

Preparing for the oral exam

The oral exam consists of 3 parts.

A first part in which you’re not present, andthe jury will judge your portfolio, sketchbooks and demo reel without you for 30 minutes.

A second part, where you must introduce thejury to an original personal project of your own made for the admissionprocess, and defend it (in French).

A third part, where the jury will just ask youquestions (they’re usually very friendly) and judge your viability as a futureclassmate. Just be yourself!

The portfolio should just have your best, besweet, short and to the point. There is a limit of 40 pages including coversand the personal project so choose your best pieces from between your projectsand your practice. It should also cover three main points

Your skillset, which should be covered byyour studies, schoolwork, observation work and partly (but not mainly) the rest of your artwork.

Your capacity for creation and personal vision(aka what your interests are as an artist), which should be covered by the restof your artwork and other projects of your own.

Your capacity to convey and develop ideas, messages andstories through visual narration, which should be your main, personal project.

I recommend you throw in both sketches andunfinished stuff along with your most detailed and refined pieces so the jurycan have a good idea of your process, your way of solving problems and how faryour skills go. Storyboards, animatics and comics will always be a positivesince you’re aiming to study a medium that is sequential.

Also, if you can, pick other students’ portfolios for reference. They don’t need to be Gobelins or even students though, if you find a good philosophy to build your portfolio around, by all means go for it. It’ll give you a good idea of what needs to be there and what can be left out.

Lastly, while they stress that you *don’t* need toknow animation to get in since that’s what you’re applying to, you can bring ina 2-minute demo reel. I made mine with an animatic and a few animationexercises on my own, but I want to repeat what they told me, the intentionisn’t to show how good you are at it already (then what can they teach you?)but to show that you’re interested in the medium and are eager to learn.

Final note

You’re applying for an animation school, keepthat in mind always. An animator is not an illustrator or a concept artist(even if they can easily become one), and what sets them apart in my opinion is the focus on speed, gesture, quantity, and most importantly, making drawings that feel alive andthat tell something. Understand the craft, ask other animators, read books onanimation, anything you can get your hands on will help.

One of the points that I feel are the mostimportant about all this is included in the Modalités d'Admission text, whichsays that they look into a quality that would literally translate to “opennessof spirit”. I think that speaks for how open minded you are to new ideas,to working with others, to learning and to considering new points of view.

Again I don’t have all the answers, but if youare “open of spirit” and really make an effort to dive into theanimation world, look for resources and friends in this world I’m certainyou’ll find them.