#- if they’re consuming that much of your time I would expect to feel like they’re thinking about them all the time

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[intheemptymirror]

drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,” he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - pt II

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: toxic!paige, language, some sexual thoughts but no smut in this one (sorry guys), paige is an asshole fr

Wordcount: 4.9k (sorry)

A/N: i got so much love and so many people asking for more after the first part <3 ty all i'm so grateful! this will likely be around 7 parts so please buckle up lol. ALSO I'M SORRY FOR NO SMUT but let me cook guys it'll get good. the point of this part is to get inside paige's head and understand why she is the way she is, things will speed up in the next part i swear. OK GO READ ILYSM MWAH

-

It’s hard being Paige Bueckers. Not every 23-year-old had to deal with the kind of pressure I did. Most of the time it felt like the whole world was watching me, waiting for me to fail. It used to bother the shit out of me but after all the injuries, everything I’ve been through, I thrived on it. I knew I would prove them wrong - prove that I’m great, that I’m me. Just like my dad would tell me, over and over again. I knew I was great, so greatness was expected. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t come with a great deal of pressure. I always said pressure is a privilege. But sometimes when I lay in bed alone after a game, even a win, the pressure consumed me. I didn’t like to be alone. So I went around different girls’ beds, like they meant nothing. Because they didn’t - they were just a distraction from my own mind. Like I said, it’s hard being Paige Bueckers - hard being me.

“You okay babe?”

I’m shaken out of my thoughts, returning back to earth, back to the small bed I was lying in. The brunette next to me nuzzles her nose into my arm, watching me with that look I knew too well. Like she wanted something from me. I hated when girls looked at me like that.

I clear my throat, trying not to flinch as she wraps her arm around me. “Yeah Zoe, ‘m fine,” I murmur, letting her press herself to my side, her body sticky from our prior activities. Zoe was a cuddler, so she was usually last on my roster. It’s hard to plan your escape when a girl clings to you like a koala and worst of all, wants to sleep like that all night. I never got that, cuddling while sleeping. It gets hot, sweaty and cramped, I find it hard to believe anyone actually enjoys it. People just think they do because they’re in love or something. And I can’t afford to be in love. I had a natty to win.

Zoe’s slender finger brushes through my blonde hair and I can feel that claustrophobic, uncomfortable tightness inside me. Like I had to get out. Her dorm was dim and the air was heavy and slightly humid from the second round I had insisted on. The sheets stuck to my skin uncomfortably and her bed made this annoying sound everytime I moved or even breathed.

I turn my gaze to Zoe who’s looking at me, all googly eyed. Oh God. She smiles wide and presses a kiss to my cheek. The scent of her shampoo lingers in the air, the smell of banana and some kind of citrus. I had never liked banana scented things.

“Uh, anyway that was fun,” I mumble, and sit up on the bed, forcing her off me as gently as I could. “But I got practice early,” I add, reaching for my t-shirt and throwing it on.

I don’t notice the offended look on Zoe’s face. I grab my phone from the floor, checking my texts urgently.

Yo you tryna do a lil sum tonight?

I know ur not workin sooo we could have a lil fun like we did the other day

Valerie?

I sigh, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten as I stare at the read receipt underneath the texts. I tap on the back of my phone case impatiently, wondering if sending a fourth text would make me pathetic. Maybe I should just call her? Nah, I must be trippin.

Since I met her at Ted’s, Valerie was the first I called when being in my bed alone was tearing up my mind. But it didn’t mean anything, she was good in bed, good at making me forget who I was when I needed to. Also, I liked how she smelled, like coconut. And when she tangled her legs with mine I didn’t shutter or pull away. Sometimes I even wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into me. Not because I needed her. But because her body felt good against mine.

“Aw baby really?” Zoe whines in an overtly soft voice, wrapping the blanket around her as she scoots up on the bed. Her plump bottom lip, swollen from the rough kissing earlier turns into a pout. I quickly avoid her gaze, my eyes landing right onto the floor looking for my pants. “I wanted to cuddle.” Figures.

“I know baby, me too,” a lie, she would never know that though. “Can’t keep my hands off you if I stay tho and I need some sleep.” I lie more, never looking at her. She buys it though, like she does every time. It’s not like I liked to lie, but I also didn’t like disappointing people. Especially girls that looked at me like that. It would kill her to know I texted three girls after Valerie didn’t answer, and the only reason I was here was because Zoe was the fastest to reply..

I leave Zoe like that, naked in bed, pleading with her eyes. Sometimes I felt bad, because I could tell she really liked me. But then I remembered how hard it is to be Paige Bueckers, and I didn’t feel so bad. My job was to be great on the court. Everything else was just background noise.

-

I sit by the court, my chest heaving, throwing my head back to down some water. The squeaking of sneakers echo all around me, blending in with the sound of Geno’s voice screaming at some of the girls working on plays. Coach had been killing us today, not happy with how the last game had went. We had still won, but that was merely a reason to celebrate in his eyes. 

All day I’d been missing shots that should’ve been child’s play for me. I couldn’t help but beat myself up. I was distracted, unfocused. I had been killing myself on the court, hoping it would bring me to my senses. Geno had been the one to tap me on the shoulder and force me to take a break I wipe the sweat off my face into the inside of my shirt, and grab my phone.

Bro are u alive?

I’m gettin worried lowkey

i’m fine paige

Five days. For five days Valerie hadn’t texted me back anything but that. I clench my jaw in frustration, shaking my head to myself. It made no sense to me - yeah we had a falling out but that’s what we did. We bickered and then we kissed and made up, and that’s what we had been doing for months so why was she acting like this now? Well… maybe calling her a psycho bitch last week hadn’t been the best move on my part.

I don’t know why the things she did bothered me so much. When she didn’t laugh at my joke, when she didn’t answer my texts. I don’t know why I felt a constant nervousness swirl inside me when she was mad at me, I had no reason to care. I guess the pussy was just that good, it was tricking me into thinking I did.

“Va-le-r- oh that’s the girl from Ted’s!” KK slams her hands on my shoulders, coming up from behind me, peeping at my phone screen. In a panic, I lock my phone, hiding it from her view.

“Bro, you heard of privacy?” I complain, shoving her playfully as she sits next to me on the ground. KK snickers, her nose scrunching a little as she does. 

“Not since you started peeing with the door open,” the shorter girl next to me argues and I scoff loudly, my mouth wide open.

“One time! And I was drunk!!” I groan, my voice rising a little and eyes going wide. CD quickly turns around and shushes us, shaking her head. Me and KK quickly shut our mouths, my cheeks turning a little red from the scolding.

KK looks at me with raised brows, and then at the phone, and then at me again. Most of the team knew how I kept myself busy when I wasn’t training, but KK was the one who had joined me those countless times at Ted’s and sat with me at the corner table as I watched her. Valerie. There was something so intriguing about her I just had to keep coming back. I always thought once I’d get her to my bed and have my way with her, I’d be done with her, which is how it usually goes. Before I realised that one time turned into five, which turned into me being in her bed getting her right, not even caring about my own most of the time. Getting her off got me off. Just thinking about the way she looked when she came, the way her back arched, her perfect mouth fell open - I really had to stop thinking about her. Why was it so goddamn hard?

It won’t be hard to find another Valerie if she’s gonna keep this difficult act up.

“Girl trouble?” KK asks, her tone more genuine and I roll my eyes, looking at her sideways.

“Yea right,” I chuckle sarcastically, leaning my elbows to my knees. “Just need to find a new one is all.”

KK lets out a small laugh, sipping her water bottle. “The five you got not enough?” She jokes.

I smirk a little glancing at her. “Four,” I correct, as if that made it better somehow. “Just need someone… new,” I mumble, knowing it was the best bet to get my mind off Valerie. I’m sure eventually I’d find someone who was just as hot. Someone who also smelled like coconut.

“Then what do I say to Zoe.”

“Wh- Zoe?” 

KK nods and grins at me. “She texted me asking about your shoe size or sum, wanted to get a gift for you.”

“She- she what?” My voice is full of shock and I can feel the claustrophobic tightness quickly grow inside me. I had never given her KK’s number. She was doing too much. KK just nods, clearly finding the situation amusing.

“Bro…” I groan quietly, as to not piss off CD again, and lean my head forward, resting my forehead against my arms. Zoe clearly hadn’t understood what “just fucking around” meant. Sometimes shit slipped out of my mouth, sure, but I never let her think I liked her. I had to be careful with her.

KK kisses the her teeth and is still nodding. “Yeah… probably time to let her go huh?”

“That bitch is crazy I swear,” I murmur and KK laughs out loud again. I punch her arm, reminding her to keep quiet - an impossible task for KK. Before I can stop myself, the words just slip from my mouth.

“Ted’s tonight?” 

KK looks at me pointedly. “Valerie workin’?” she teases but I shake my head sternly.

“No man, fuck Valerie.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “Just need to find a new one, k?”

“You sure you’re not just gon’ ogle at her all ni-”

“KK.” I say sternly

KK nods. “Ok,” she repeats but I can tell from her tone she doesn’t buy it. She shuts up though knowing she could tease me about anything but anything about Valerie got under my skin. Truth was Valerie was working today. I just needed to see her just for a second. Just to know if I was overthinking it, or if she was really icing me out.

-

The Friday night had brought many other students to Ted’s as well, the bar pretty packed and the chatter loud over the music. KK had convinced Ice to join us so the three of us made our way in. The best thing about crowds was it made it easy to blend in, even for us. We push our way through to the bar, my eyes immediately searching for a glimpse of Valerie’s golden brown hair or her wide eyes. All I needed was to see her, I told myself. Even for a second. Then the twist in my stomach would straighten out.

“What can I get you?” The perky voice of the redhead asks over the buzzing crowd. I think her name was Natalie or something. Ice looks over the flyers on the bar, advertising a range of new drinks.

“Let’s try some of these,” Ice suggests and I grab the flyer from her hand. I didn’t really come here to drink so I couldn’t have cared less what we ordered. Especially now I realised Valerie wasn’t even here.

“Uhh yea can we get three Aperol Negronis,”

“You won’t like it,” a stern, but sweet voice interrupts the conversation. I’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Valerie steps out from the back, pinning her hair away from her face and for a moment our gazes meet. Her dark, wide eyes make me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. For a moment I want to jump over the bar and touch her, to make sure she was really there and not just a mirage of my desires.

“W-why not?” I ask, my voice uncharacteristically shaky. Only with her I got like that. Suddenly my throat felt dry and the nervous twist in my stomach was turning into something you could only call butterflies. Of course I knew it couldn’t be butterflies, because that would mean I cared. I couldn’t afford to care. I didn’t have the time for distractions. I had a national championship to win.

Valerie scoffs looking away from me, ignoring me as I chase her gaze. “Because I know you won’t,” she says. The way she thought she knew me that well irked me. Still, I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t beaming at the fact that I had her attention after a week of trying to chase her down.

I can’t help the pout that forms in defiance. She’s still ignoring me, pouring drinks for a group of boys clearly ogling at her - which only irked me more.

“Well… I want three of them,” I say matter of factly, trying to prove a point.

“Whoa Paige, maybe we should just get a shirl-” Ice chuckles but I shake my head.

“Three Aperol Negronis,” I dictate. Valerie’s stern eyes finally look at me. She looks almost a little scary, not pleased with my tone. “... please.” I add urgently, not wanting to get on her bad side. I guess some would say I already had.

Wordlessly, Valerie rolls her wide eyes and gets to mixing the drinks. I allow my eyes to wander for a moment, noticing how the white shirt of the work uniform hugged her body, the curve of her breasts making my mouth water. Just seeing her was enough to ignite the fire deep in my abdomen. The things I would do to leave with her tonight and take her to my bed, like I had so many times before. I would even settle for just some kissing. Just wanted to let my hands wander down her body, squeeze and feel where I wanted, with no urgency. I needed to feel all of her, wanted to drown in her.

“By card orrr…?” Valerie asks, clearly waiting for the payment. My eyes had gone glassy, and my lower lip had a small dent from the way I’d been biting down on it. I blink stupidly at her, struggling to calm myself down.

“I got it,” KK murmurs and slides her card to Valerie. I grab my drink, and the smell is enough to make my face scrunch up in disgust. I swear it smells like battery acid, and as I take a sip I notice - it also tastes like battery acid. I swallow the orange liquor, it burns on its way down making me cough a little. Valerie was watching me amused. I hated when she was right.

“People actually drink this and like it??” Ice asks, her voice hoarse from coughing as well. KK nods agreeing but I’m too stubborn to admit defeat.

“I actually like it,” I lie with a straight face, my fingers twitching around the glass as I try to get over the bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

“Oh right,” Valerie says, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turns to another group of customers. I can’t help reach over the bar, my hand grabbing her arm. She turns back to face me, icier than I had ever seen. It shocks me enough that I let go of her, taken aback.

“What?” she asks, her voice filled with annoyance.

“You seen my texts?” is all I ask, and it comes out a little too desperate for my liking.

“Yes,” Valerie says matter of factly. I wait for her to continue but she doesn’t.

“Uh… well thought we’d link up or something,” I add, shifting on my feet as I do.

Valerie sighs in frustration and takes a deep breath to compose herself.

“I’m good,” is all she says and flashes me an ice cold smile. I feel a strange pang in my heart. She had iced me out before, but not like this. Usually seeing her face to face was enough for her to forget our petty little arguments, enough to get her on me again. “I have work,” she adds before finally returning to serve the other customers.

I stand there for a moment, astonished. An uncomfortable ache that had been wavering in my chest was growing too intense for me to ignore anymore. Maybe it was all my fault after all. I had told her I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else and in the moment I had meant it. But then I remembered the stakes. Last year to win a national championship, last year to prove my greatness. I wasn’t going to mess it up just because of some girl. A relationship would be nothing more than a distraction, an unnecessary responsibility. I had enough on my plate. Valerie was selfish for wanting me all to herself. She didn’t understand what she was asking for. Maybe calling her a psycho bitch wasn’t so far off.

I feel someone bump into my back and turn around to find a girl, cheeks blushed and apologetic. I see her eyes widen in recognition - it was always that moment when I knew I could have this girl if I wanted. 

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m a little drunk,” the girl giggles and I offer her an easy smile. I consider taking this girl home, imagining the way I’d lure her into my bed, just a little bit of sweet talk and a smirk would be enough, a hand on her waist, thumb rubbing her skin and soon she’d get this look on her face like she had to have me. It would be so easy, and I wouldn’t have to think about Valerie at all.

But the pain in my chest doesn’t go away, even when I let my mind wander further, how this girl would look underneath me, whimpering while I fuck her. It did nothing to make the pain go away.

“‘S fine,” i murmur and decide to ignore the way she was blinking at me, biting her bottom lip. I grab my drink from the bar, and push past her, finding KK and Ice sitting at our usual table. They both look at me, but don’t ask where I’d been. They both knew better. I sip my drink, cursing to myself in my head about ordering it. With sheer stubbornness I finish it quickly, finding that easier than taking small sips. 

“You’re never picking what we drink again,” KK scoffs, copying me, her face scrunching involuntarily when she finishes her drink. But I barely register her words, as I lean back in the chair, head tilting back to watch Valerie.

She’s giggling with Natalie, throwing her head back in amusement. The chatter in the bar is deafening, but I swear I could hear her laugh in my head vividly. Like my brain had memorised each tone of her voice. There was something different about Valerie, she always shined the brightest in every room she was in. Even the dingy bar was lit up by her. She wasn’t even necessarily extremely lively. It was her mere presence that just made everything better. 

I noticed it the first time I ever saw her, early september. All she did was walk past me on campus, talking lively into her phone. It was her voice I had heard before even seeing what she looked like. Her voice had been enough to make me have to see her. Of course she hadn’t even looked my way, not even a glance. That was the moment I knew I had to have her.

“You enjoy it?” Valerie asks KK and Ice, fully ignoring me as she walks to our table to clean up. I watch the golden bracelet she always wore dangling on her wrist as she grabs the empty glasses. I lean back and tilt my head to look up at her, needy for her attention. Licking my lips I look her up and down, that usually worked enough to get her naked. But now, she didn’t even glance at me. Annoyance grew within me as she chatted with KK, laughing at her jokes.

It was then when my eyes moved from her lips to her neck that I saw it - a dark bruise underneath her ear, right on the spot where she liked to be kissed. I knew, because I had left many bruises there and gotten scolded for it. But this wasn’t mine. This was someone else’s.

“Okay well see ya around,” Valerie smiles and turns to take the glasses to the back. I feel the pang in my chest quickly flip, turning into anger. I was furious. Who did she think she was? Sleeping around with someone else, not answering my texts, letting someone else mark her like that. I felt my body turn hot, and without a word to KK and Ice I get up from my seat, nearly knocking it over as I take quick strides to reach Valerie, following her into the back, ignoring the STAFF ONLY sign on the door.

My steps are heavy and loud as I reach her, standing by the sink, handling the dirty glasses. I was shaking my head to myself, trying to control my anger. But it was getting the best of me.

“Staff only plea-” Valerie starts and turns to me, unable to miss the redness of my face, the clenched jaw and the way I was biting on the insides of my cheeks. “Paige?” she asks, furrowing her brows, confused.

The pounding in my head grows and I let out a scoff, not feeling in control of myself. My brain was moving faster than I could follow, I felt lightheaded. I felt furious. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my voice loud. I didn’t really care about being overheard.

“Huh?” Valerie asks, clearly bewildered, but already getting defensive in response to how I was acting.

“What, you don’t text me, call me or nothing? Because you’ve been too busy fucking some other bitch?” I yell, my hand pointing to her neck. Valerie’s eyes widen in realisation but quickly turn angry too. 

“I- WHAT?” She yells back and takes a step towards me.

“Don’t play dumb. So who is it?” I say sternly, grinning bitterly at her, my eyes looking down at her.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes shaking her head which only infuriates me more.

“I said. Who. Is. It?” I repeat, grabbing her arm. She pushes my hand off her, anger growing on her face as her brows furrowed further.

“How is it any of your business who I sleep with Paige?” She argues.

She had a point. We weren’t exclusive. Matter of fact it was pretty hypocritical of me to be so angry when I had a roster of girls on my phone, ready to answer my calls at any time of day. My anger had taken over though, and the little sense I had when it came to Valerie, was completely gone.

I throw my head back and chuckle bitterly, provoking her further. “See I knew you’re a lotta things but didn’t know you were a slut too,” I hiss, the words slipping out without much thought. I couldn’t think of anything but how furious I felt.

Valerie laughs loud, but it’s not the sweet laugh I was used to. It was a bitter, angry laugh.

“Me?! You’ve slept with every girl that swings your way on campus and even some that don’t! You’re the slut Paige!” she screams, her wide eyes burning with anger, her finger coming up to point at my face. It pissed me off, the way it was assigning blame, like all of this was my fault. Like it wasn’t she who slept with someone.

“I don’t owe you anything!” she declares, her voice revealing a hint of hurt, the way it cracked slightly. “I’m done with you. I’m serious Paige. Done,” she adds, her voice calmer, but more authoritative. “Now get out of my bar.”

My face was hot and red, my chest was heaving and my head spun. The hurt in her voice made me waver, made my chest ache more. I blink at her stupidly as she turns back to the dishes, already missing having her attention. I was fine with the yelling, the fighting, as long as it meant she was looking at me, or talking to me. But now she’s done with me? Fine, so was I. Wouldn’t take me longer than a day to find a new Valerie.

“Pshh whatever,” I murmur and storm out of the back, heading fast towards the exit. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my chest felt tight and I could taste the bitter Aperol on my tongue still. It made me nauseous,

I’m gasping for air once I feel the chilly breeze of february hitting my skin. The silence outside was overwhelming, forcing me to realise the rapid pace of my own thoughts. My mind was swirling with flashing images of Valerie, on top of someone, looking down at her like she did at me, the idea of her moaning someone else’s name made me sick.

“Fuck!” I shout, unable to control myself. A group of girls near me turn to look at me but return to their conversation when I sit myself down on the curb. What a standard I was setting for student athletes everywhere right now.

My eyes burn and before I notice, a tear rolls down my cheek. I bury my face into my hands and rub my jaw, my anger easing with each exhale. I didn’t know why I was crying, I didn’t understand any of this. I couldn’t believe the things I had said, the way I had acted. I was supposed to be disciplined, in control, but I felt so out of control when it came to Valerie.

“Paigey…” KK murmurs and suddenly I realise her and Ice are standing in front of me, looking down at me sympathetically. Embarrassed, I wipe the tears away and try to steady my breathing.

“Uhh sorry just gimme a sec guys,” I sigh looking at the ground. They sit on either side of me, wrapping their arms around me. I lean into Ice’s shoulder and I’m grateful how they don’t pry, or talk. We just sit there in silence for a while.

I take a deep sigh and lift my head back up, chewing on my bottom lip. I glance at both of the girls sitting next to me, grateful for the friends I had. At least I got one thing right.

“I dunno what just happened,” I sigh, shaking my head thinking back to my behaviour. The shame I felt made my cheeks turn a shade of red.

KK chuckles softly and ruffles my hair affectionately. “I do,” she mumbles.

I furrow my brows and turn to look at her. She looks back at me like whatever was about to come out of her mouth was obvious. KK and Ice glance at each other before KK opens her mouth to speak.

“Bro you have feelings for her.”

Oh?

Oh.

My mouth parts in realisation as I move my gaze from KK to the pavement. It’s just us now, sitting in silence, the sounds of passing cars and the muted sounds of the bar the only noise in the chilly evening.

“C’mon P boogers, let’s go home,” Ice says, standing up and reaching a hand down to lift me up. 

KK hops up and nods. “You need some Tru Fru,” she adds.

With a nod, I let them pull me up, following them to the car. I had feelings for Valerie. Shit. I'd just have to find a way to get over it - I couldn’t afford all this. Not right now. Not with the world watching, waiting for me to fail. Not with a national championship on the line.

-

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NEXT ONE WILL BE HOTTER I PROMISE

[ellecdc]

Elle have you ever felt the urge to write more swim lessons with the marauders? I’m not usually much of a “part 2??” person but when I read that one I thought it was begging for a continuation. No pressure though!! Only if you feel like it, thanks for writing the first one at all :)

wellllllllll, since you asked so nicely (no but I'd literally do anything for you, just name the price - also, this feels like a full circle moment since the first part was absolutely not heavily influence by my love for your EMT!marauders...........)

swim instructor!marauders x fem!reader who learns that praise kinks are a transferrable skill

find part one here!

CW: joking about drowning each other, nerves surrounding learning how to swim, inappropriate jokes because.....well.....you know.

You had left last week's swim lesson (which you had dubbed your latest near death experience) quite certain you would rather just enjoy the white-sand beaches of the Maldives by the waterline.

That is until perhaps the third time someone joked about bringing you a set of water wings, and the second time someone pointed out the horrid tan lines those would leave on your skin. 

So here you were, sitting on a bench in the posh dressing room of the posh country club that your friend’s fiance’s posh family owned as you waited for the rest of the patron’s to clear out of the pool for your private swim lessons.

Oh God, what if you were expected to compensate them for this too?! 

You were so consumed in your spiralling - wondering if you could manage to take out a line of credit simply to attend your best friend's wedding - when you heard your name being called into the change room. 

“You in there?” You could hear Remus call.

“Yup!” You called back; horrified when your voice cracked. “I’m coming.” You added after clearing your throat.

You reluctantly grabbed your towel and hugged it to your chest as you headed towards the pool.

“There she is!” Sirius called as he spotted you. “Our favourite swimmer!”

“I’ve not actually done any swimming yet.” You corrected quietly. Not quietly enough, unfortunately, as the acoustics in this room seemed to carry your words to the black haired swimmer and his bespectacled counterpart across the entire pool.

“You won’t be able to say that for much longer!” James countered.

Remus apparently noticed the panic look form on your face as he let out a low chuckle. “We’re staying in the shallow end today, love. There’s no need to worry.” 

You wanted to be annoyed with him at his incessant use of pet names and endearments, but any ire that may have bubbled in your chest simply vanished when he flashed you a soft, crooked smile. 

You watched then as James and Sirius launched themselves into the pool without a second thought whilst Remus gently lowered himself into it from the edge. 

You weren’t proud that you had to force yourself to look away from the muscles in his shoulders as they flexed under his weight. 

“How tall are you?” Sirius asked then, causing James to gasp dramatically.

“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that, Pads.” He scolded. 

“No.” Sirius countered slowly. “You’re not supposed to ask them how much they weigh.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask them anything to do with numbers; weight, age, height.” James continued.

“Age!? What can you ask them?” Sirius beseeched.

“Would you sods shut up?” Remus grumbled. 

“Right.” Sirius said then, apparently remembering himself. “I only ask because you should be able to touch the bottom here; why don’t you try getting in like Moony did?”

You felt your brows furrow as you looked at Sirius in bemusement. “Moony?”

“That’s me.” Remus clarified as he let out a sigh of exasperation; you couldn’t help but notice the shy blush that took over his face and threatened to spread to his chest at the moniker, however. “He’s Pads, and James is Prongs. Sometimes. Right now, they’re sod 1 and sod 2.”

His insult was met with one indignant ‘oi!’ and a retaliatory splash. “But what Sirius was trying to say was that it would be good practice getting in and out without a gradient; you said the wedding was in the Maldives?”

You nodded in response. 

“You may at times only have the edge of a dock or perhaps a small staircase to get into the water; doing this in the shallow end will help train your body not to go into fight or flight mode each time.”

And while that all sounded well and good, you couldn’t help but look at the water warily. 

“Come on.” Sirius encouraged you as he situated himself below you and patted the edge of the pool. “Have a seat, doll.”

You bit back a grumble and did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the pool where Sirius stood between your legs and set his hands on either side of you. “Then you just slide in, and I’ll be here to catch you; got it?” 

“Is there gonna be a tattooed bloke in the Maldives to catch me too?” You grumbled to yourself, horrified when Sirius’ bark of laughter alerted you to the fact that you had said that out loud.

“Why, you looking for a date, doll?”

You have got to stop blurting out every thought that enters your mind, especially around these men.

Instead of dealing with your embarrassment, you figured you may as well just try drowning.

Unfortunately for you, the water was shallow and you were tall enough to touch the bottom and Sirius had caught you, so it looked as though you would just have to deal with your embarrassment like a mature adult.

But fuck that.

So instead, you splashed him. 

“Oh she’s feisty today.” James commented as Sirius squawked something or other about his hair.

Humour danced behind Remus’ whiskey eyes as he considered you. “Thank you for splashing him so I wouldn’t have to.”

“We should invest in some of those spray bottles for when he’s being a pest.” James called over with a smirk.

Whatever qualms Sirius may have had about his hair seemed to dissipate at the prospect of dunking his mate as he lunged for James and forced them both under the water.

You were mortified to realise you had leaned into Remus’ side to avoid getting tangled up in whatever underwater brawl was taking place; only realising your proximity to the tall swim instructor when he placed a placating hand on your back. 

“This is actually what we’re going to be practising today.” He explained as his two counterparts emerged from the water with gasping breaths.

“Drowning each other?” 

“Holding our breath.��� Remus corrected you with a smirk. “The hope is that you will feel more comfortable in practising if you’re not so worried about what will happen when you’re underwater.”

“We’re gonna have a cheeky seat at the bottom of the pool!” James explained.

You looked to Remus with what you were sure was a ‘you’re kidding me, yeah?’ face who simply smiled at you encouragingly. 

“I thought the purpose of swim lessons was to not end up at the bottom of a pool.” You deadpanned. 

“The purpose of swim lessons is to avoid ending up at the bottom of a pool, and knowing how to get back up to the surface when you do.” Sirius offered.

“We’ll just lower ourselves to our knees and-”

“My favourite position.” Sirius interrupted Remus’ instructions.

“James?” Remus deadpanned.

“On it.” James answered quickly as he put Sirius in a headlock and dunked them under the water again. 

“As I was saying,” Remus continued without the distraction of the other two, “we’ll lower ourselves to our knees, try to count to 10, and then we’ll come back up.”

The other two instructors reemerged at the end of Remus’ sentence and you let out a heavy breath. “I don’t think I can do this.” You admitted quietly. 

Any humour and levity seeped from the three men as they circled you protectively.

“No, hey, of course you can!” James offered, trying to imbue some of his eagerness and enthusiasm onto you as he swiped water away from his eyes. 

“Why would she trust you, James? You look like nothing but trouble.” Sirius said haughtily as he tried to re-restrain his hair into an elastic. 

You were expecting James to squawk in offence, but his face lit up brilliantly as if Sirius had just solved world hunger.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Remus asked warily.

“She doesn’t trust us!” James clarified, which clarified nothing for you at all. 

“What! I- no, that’s not true. I…I do trust you, I just-”

“No, no. Not like that angel.” James offered. “I’m sure you trust us enough as employees here, but not necessarily enough to willingly put yourself at risk, right?”

You tried to think of an argument.

You couldn’t. 

“Okay, let’s see…oh!” James started as he lowered himself into the water enough that it lapped against his chin. “I was completely broken when my marriage ended, and these two were the only ones who could convince me I wasn’t a complete failure.” He offered casually as if he hadn’t just dropped a significant amount of lore on a near stranger. 

“I ran away from home at 16 and James’ family took me in, no questions asked, and have treated me as their own ever since.” Sirius added quickly. 

Remus let out a sigh as he looked to the other two in faux exasperation. “And I was a poor scholarship kid attending an elite and posh prep school, and these two did everything they could to make sure no one made me feel insecure about it.” 

“All this to say, angel; I’d trust these two with my life, and I think you should too.” James finished. 

You let out a steadying breath and nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Sirius smiled. 

“Yeah, yes; I can do this.” You decided, mostly speaking to yourself.

“Hell yeah, you can!” James cheered as he splashed the water, Remus muttering something about him being a giant toddler. 

“So, you can plug your nose if you’d like; but try to take a deep breath in, and then whilst you’re under water try letting that air out slowly, okay?” Remus instructed then. You felt more than a little discombobulated with all of his attention focused on you.

Sirius demonstrated and you mimicked his actions which earned you a dramatic round of applause.

“Brilliant! You’re gonna rock this.” James assured you quickly.

“‘Course she is.” Sirius scoffed as if James had said something rather outlandish. “She’s been brilliant at everything so far.”

You felt your cheeks heat up near painfully and looked down to the water in hopes that no one noticed you fluster.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed Remus was more observant than you gave him credit for. “You going to be brilliant for us again today, love?” 

You felt like it was your turn to scoff. “‘Course I am.” your inner voice echoed Sirius. 

“‘Course she is.” James echoed for you; a knowing smirk gracing his lips.

“Ready?” Sirius started as he lowered himself to his shoulders.

You nodded and he started to count down. 

At one, you sucked in a deep breath and plugged your nose before plunging yourself into the pool.

You were too buoyant; your body trying to return to the surface immediately after submerging yourself which left you feeling rather panicky, but you saw Sirius blow out dramatic bubbles and decided to do the same, feeling your body slowly sink to allow you to settle onto your knees. 

James beamed a smile at you as Remus looked at a stopwatch counting down your seconds.

You realised it wasn’t so bad down here - letting the air out of your lungs left you not feeling as if your body was going to burst from the pressure, and it was beautifully quiet. It reminded you how peaceful you found floating to be just the week before.

You felt a gentle tap on your wrist, noticing Remus pointing upwards.

You stood and suddenly, you were horribly aware of how loud an empty pool could be; the sound of water filtering, the large fans in charge of the humidity levels, and the echoing of the great cavernous space left you feeling slightly homesick for the bottom of the pool.

“That was brilliant!” James cheered as he pulled you roughly into his side. 

“You say that as if you’re surprised, Prongs.” Sirius teased gently. 

“Of course I’m not surprised, she’s our brilliant student.”

And instead of an embarrassed flush of your cheeks, you felt a simmering pride settle within your chest.

It appeared that having a praise kink was, indeed, a transferable skill.

[chachued]

I wanted to request lando x fem reader if possible when he’s leaving for a while and they’re extra affectionate the night before with longer hugs and more reassurance, it could even get emotional??

Thank you in advance🥰

omg, yes. absolutely adorable!!! such a cute idea, this is.

━━ NEVER LEAVING | LANDO NORRIS ⁴

He never left without you, but you couldn’t come with him this time. It wasn’t easy, to say the least, but this night made it all the better.

↳ lando norris x fem!reader

W/C 0.5k

CONTENTS fluff — so much fluff, best bf lando, clingy reader, a bit of attachment issues, half proofread, short imagine

TOMORROW WAS THE DAY. Even though you begged for a day off—just to spend time with your boyfriend—today was too far busy, said your boss.

It was already late at night, so you expected Lando to be asleep already. He had to leave tomorrow morning, so you let bygones be bygones.

You didn’t know work would last so long, there’s barely enough time to be with him. And most of it will be used sleeping beside him. Everything consumed the energy that usually sparked inside you — The one that was excited to go home to him.

The key was deep inside your bag while you shuffled for it, prolonging the wait outside your door, which was insufferable. All you wanted to do was lay in bed—preferably with his arms around you.

The door handle clicked, and then it opened. “You’re home!”

“You’re still awake?” You were relieved, but rightfully worried because it is twelve in the morning.

His hand took yours, dragging you inside. “Of course, I am.”

“What’s that — And that smell?”

“Well, that is your favourite movie, with your favourite food, and your favourite snacks, actually.”

Wow. He really did it all for you.

There were candles that were already half-melted, probably the ones that were hiding in an obscure area. The line of expensive meals and cheap takeout showed a variety of food. It’s like he knew you hadn't eaten yet.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit your face, highlighting that pretty smile of yours—melting him from the inside. “There’s also a bunch of blankets to get you comfy. I’m sure you would’ve been tired when you got home.”

“I love you so much right now.”

“You didn’t love me before?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling.

“I love you too.”

Anxiety piled up — That overwhelming feeling.

It finally hits you he’d be leaving tomorrow morning. All this effort and it didn’t even last long because, before you knew it, he’d be gone. It hurt, and you didn’t know why.

It wasn’t the fact that he was leaving. It’s because he motivated you throughout the day, promising kisses and goods—giving a reason to be excited about life. What could you do without him?

Lando was cuddled up next to you, lying on your chest, when he heard your sniffling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m here,” he said, and in all honesty, it made the tears harder to hold in.

But you stayed strong.

“It’s just… You’re leaving, and all that. I don’t know, I feel a bit silly.”

He held you tighter, not planning to ever let you go. His eyes were heavy, but he’d stay up all night to be with you.

No amount of sleep can replace you, he thought.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” His hand slithered onto your cheek, wiping the loose tear. “I’m never ever leaving you.”

That was the promise he’d never dare to break.

It was insane. You felt insane. He was doing all this for you, and you felt like a burden. There was nothing you did to deserve this—

You felt his soft lips on yours—holding on for a second—and the warm embrace melted you in quick.

“Text me and I’ll fly back to you, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Alright?”

A giggle slipped out of your mouth. “Alright, yeah.”

This was home — Your home.

And it would never fall apart, not with him.

↳ bonus ; next morning ´ˎ˗

LOADING . . . ✎

all rights reserved © CHACHUED ━━ do not translate, copy, or claim my works as your own.

[yukioos]

hiii honey!! can i request a leon and ada drabble kinda like ur ashley and leon one? but this time reader takes a liking to both but leon and ada don’t like each other?

BE MY BABY

SUMMARY: leon kennedy x reader x ada wong // on september 29, 1998, you first met leon kennedy and ada wong. six years later, you are sent to rescue the president’s daughter from a town in spain. the last people you expect to be there are leon and ada, who both seem to have an attraction to you. unfortunately, they seem to hate each other more than ever.

WARNINGS: not proofread, cussing, reader’s in the military, ada and leon literally hate each other

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys! please send resident evil asks because i had so much fun writing this! this is kind of like my ashley and leon writing, so it’s not necessarily a full-on oneshot. it’s basically just ideas. this is 1.1k words.

being in the military is hard work. hours on the field and time-consuming training and meetings have tired you out quicker than you expected. but there is one thing you know for sure: being in the military isn’t for everyone.

september 29, 1998 was the day that changed your life. living in raccoon city was great, it had a supportive community and historical sites to visit once and a while. you’d just gotten home from a mission that took half a month to complete. you quickly became a lieutenant, and ever since then, your days have been filled with leading troops through missions.

however, you didn’t have much time at home before you had to evacuate to the police department because of the zombies. on your way to the department, you met a man who claimed his name was leon kennedy, and he was a police officer who was supposed to start his job that day. he was a sweetheart, far too kind and caring to be deserving of dealing with a traumatic outbreak.

for the hours you spent together, you learned a lot about him, and vice versa. he was a sweetheart, but you could see the sadness and pain behind his eyes. this certainly wasn’t how he expected his first day to go. unfortunately, it was as if the zombies were perpetual, almost every time you’d turn a corner, a hoard would be walking toward you.

the two of you then met a supposed fbi agent, who introduced herself as ada wong. she was mysterious, leaving randomly with no answers, leaving you feeling annoyed. there was something different about her, something wrong. you believed there was no way an fbi agent would randomly leave an officer and a lieutenant on their own to do their own thing, especially not in that situation.

you eventually parted ways with the two of them and found yourself safe for a short period.

six years later, you still remember leon and ada, secretly hoping they’re still safe or in touch. the trauma had followed you, and when you were sent by the president to find his daughter, you of course accepted. it seemed iffy that she was kidnapped by a cult, in a rural town in spain, but nonetheless, you did what you had to do.

he stated you would be accompanied by an agent, who he didn’t name. only when you saw another person standing by the police car to drive you to spain, did you realize who the man was.

leon fucking kennedy. he was actually alive.

your heart flutters as he gently says your name, “y/n?” and you softly smile, you feel exhilarating, and happiness runs through your veins.

instead of a quiet ride, like you would have preferred with anyone else, you and leon discuss what had happened the past six years. he had become an agent with the role of protecting the president’s family, and at the same time, you were moving up the ranks as fast as lightning. the president wanted the best and most talented people to save his daughter. luckily, he chose the perfect team.

you ask what happened with ada, and your heart drops once he tells you she’s a spy.

she seemed genuine, but your suspicions were proven right, she was just trying to get the g-virus and bring it back to her boss.even after hearing all that, you still feel sad for her. she went through so much, and the only two people who went through exactly what she did probably hate her.

but when exploring spain, you never would’ve expected to see her again. you persuade yourself to trust her again, because, in the end, she desires the best for the world.

leon feels the opposite about ada. he hates everything she does, every little word she oh-so confidently says, and how she’s always doing so much for you. she left the two of you, she doesn’t deserve you, as he thinks. he doesn’t want you and him to get manipulated again, and he thinks the two of you share the passion of hating ada.

leon took in all the words you said in the car ride to spain, but was mostly focusing on your plump lips. the way your lips would stretch into a smile, the sides curving upwards, would make his body feel warm. he missed you so much, more than words could describe. every day, he thought about seeing you again. he didn’t even know you were still alive until he heard the president mention your name once. as he spoke highly of you, pride bloomed in leon’s chest. he knew you before you became a very well-known military asset.

leon knew he fell in love easily. hell, he fell in love with you the first time he saw you at the police station. you were in the prettiest outfit, and once you escaped the department, he saw your necklace that had been lying on your chest, dropped on the ground. he kept that necklace for the next six years in hopes of bringing it back to you one day.

he gave it back to you in the police car, telling you straight up, and how he had hoped he would see you again someday. the gratefulness and red cheeks made him quietly chuckle. he secretly relished in the idea of you being flustered and touched because of him.

in 1998, ada felt the need to protect you and leon, she thought she felt attracted to him at one point. she then realized the idea of being with you would be much more wholesome and better for you. leon was just a rookie who didn’t know anything! there was no way you would warm up to him quicker than her

the rookie hardly knew anything, he clearly wasn’t taught to be weary of other people. he was too gullible, in ada’s opinion. there wasn’t many good things about him. his jokes weren’t funny, he didn’t have many appealing qualities, so clearly she was a much better partner for you.

seeing you in your cute, dark blue button-up blouse and black skirt makes her eye you like a dog eyeing a cat. she wants you all to herself, and will do anything to gain that. she would gently lift your chin or tease you while talking to you, asking “are you listening? seems like your mind is somewhere else.” and hook her arm around your waist to redirect you to a different path.

but she and leon knew the other won’t give up on attaining your love. i mean, who wouldn’t want you? you are the most perfect person ever, perfect qualities, perfect beauty, perfect skills, and that’s something they can both agree on. the spy and agent both want you to have the best partner, but both believe they are the one for you.

you hate how they can’t see eye to eye on what you think about the two of them. you love both of them. leon’s chuckle and jokes make you feel like you have a heart attack— in the best way possible, though! he always finds a way to brighten your mood whenever you are feeling upset and will voice his concerns about you. he was straightforward, and you love that in a person. another reason why you love him is that he’s one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. whenever his eyes wander into yours, your cheeks feel a little too hot beyond comfort.

ada is beautiful, and you are sure of one thing. red is her fucking color. i mean, god, you’ve spent days just thinking about who could wear red better than her, and that wasn’t even one of the main reasons why you love her! the way she does everything in a confident matter makes you adore her, she seems so sure of herself. she was so strong and far more talented than anyone you’ve known. the way she effortlessly avoids danger like the back of her hand, and protects you from it as well, makes your cheeks flush.

how were you supposed to choose between two of the best people in the world? the hours you spend with them are supposed to be calm, besides finding ashley, but instead, it’s stressful. all that time you only think about finding the president’s daughter, and the two love interests that cloud your mind for eternity.

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ��tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

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Tagged: @darkflowerav

[mamayan]

★Good Boy☆

Sub! Genya Shinazugawa x Soft Dom! Reader

cw: Soft Dom! Reader • Fem! Reader Coded • Sub! Genya • Fluff • Mild Angst • Hand Job (M) • Mild Teasing • Mild Overstimulation • Praise • Fingering (M) • Oral (M)

wc: 3k+

A/N: He is an angel, no one can convince me otherwise—

“Can I…?” You turned to see your sweet lover standing in the entrance of the shoji, handsome as always but wearing an unusual nervous expression.

You cock a brow expectantly, smile curving your lips. “Can you what, Genya?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone which makes him purse his lips, pale skin beginning to flush red.

“T-Tanjiro was the one to bring it up, okay? I-I wasn’t listening to anything weird, alright?” His immediately defensive words before he’d even asked permission was a telling sign for you as interest sparked in your eyes. That made him even more nervous, but the sight of you sitting and being so patient made it even more difficult for him not to ask.

“Alright Genya, I understand. Now go ahead and tell me.” You weren’t asking, but your tone hadn’t changed. It didn’t matter though, as Genya immediately spit it out at your command.

“C-Can I lay my head on your l-lap?!” He’d all but screamed it. Panting as if it’d taken an incredible amount of effort to speak the sentence, the demon slayer with physical abilities that few could contend with appeared all but starved for oxygen. Those wide dark amethyst eyes are bloodshot and a little teary at the edges as he stared fervently at you.

“Yes?” You’d expected something different. Less innocent at least.

His face lights up though, and it makes any disappointment dissolve in the face of such a gorgeous display of happiness. His sweet smile and flushed cheeks make you coo, shifting yourself to sit in a more formal position as he scurries and secures a spot on your thighs with his head.

He lays himself almost stiffly on your lap, his large body frozen as if you’d change your mind if he were to move too much. You chuckle in amusement, his eyes flicking up to where you leaned over him. “Relax sweet boy, close your eyes.” He was too cute to deny right now, especially as he obeys with almost too much enthusiasm and tightly shuts his eyes with more concentration than necessary. You help him out, smoothing your hand lightly over his face, trailing down his cheeks and jaw with a feather light touch. He’s stuck between feeling like wanting to claw out of his own skin and melting in it. Your soft touch leaves him vulnerable, but as does the position which situates you over him, almost like he’s being protected. Genya ponders the last time he’s felt safe like this, but thoughts of his family and Sanemi hurt his chest too much to dwell long on, so he enjoys the fluffy feeling beginning to consume him and his mind.

“How was your day, my love?” He hates how much he adores your sweet names for him. As if each one is a balm to soothe his frayed nerves for each time he’s been hurt or insulted. He’s unable to deny a single request or command from you, nor does he particularly want to either. “I trained with Tanjiro, the dumb guy. He keeps getting stronger, while I’m just…” he grits his teeth, words not coming as easily as he tries to formulate the correct words which would describe his own inferiority to Tanjiro—

“Just what?” You goad.

“While I’m just me,” he doesn’t look at you anymore, eyes focused on the other end of the room as if his greatest enemy stands like a ghost in the corner. “I’m just me, I don’t have any cool ancestors or fancy breathing styles, I ain’t like ‘Nemi—,” you gently tilt his face back up towards you, eyes so warm he stutters on his words and stops entirely. How could you look at him like that? When he’s like this?

“You don’t need to be like him though, do you? You’re perfect just the way you are, sweet boy. Have I not shown you already? Your effort, your strength, your perseverance… they’re all yours, right?” His breathing nearly halts, so focused on your words he feels himself going light headed, “Focus on what you can do and focus on coming back to me. Isn’t that enough?” A single tear slides down his cheek, gaze blurry with the ones unshed as his chest fills with adoration and admiration for you.

“Don’t cry ‘Nya, I haven’t even done anything yet,” your teasing words make him flush deeper, the innuendo not lost on him despite his embarrassment.

“I-I ain’t cryin’!” He flinches as you inflict a small pinch to his cheek, “Sorry…” he apologizes quickly for yelling.

“Why are you embarrassed? Don’t you like when I play with you?” He wants to melt into the floor, but he’s trapped by the soft pillow of your thighs beneath his head and neck. Of course he liked it, he loved it even, but admitting it aloud was the most difficult for him. His silent trembling and watery gaze weren’t convincing enough apparently. Your hand leaves his soft tresses, smoothing down his neck and onto his chest where he tenses under the delicate pressure.

“That’s too bad ‘Nya, I really want to play with you now but… since you don’t like it, I won’t force you.” He nearly jolts up, but halts in fear of damaging your hand in his carelessness, instead panicking.

“N-no! I like it! I really, really like it,” his honest declarations are the easiest to achieve when he’s not given time to think of some crass response or lie, “Y-you always make me feel, well, good, really good,” he looks ready to burst, his cute expression almost too much for you as you withhold your laughter.

“Oh…? What do you like best then, sweet boy?” You knew he was close to his verbal limit, but to not push him until he couldn’t take anymore would be a waste since he so sweetly offered himself up like this.

Genya choked as your hand drifted lower, unable to control his body even with deep breathing as his pants began to feel tighter.

“I like… when you touch me, like this,” it feels like his throat is closing up. Your sweet hum of affirmation and your hand drifting lower was incentive enough to keep going. “When you—fuck,” his eyes nearly roll back just from you teasing the edges of his belt line.

“Finish your sentence, or we can stop here.”

“Wh-when you touch my cock—,” he looks like a boiled octopus, so red and flustered as he twitches helplessly beneath your hand. His eyes meet your own, as if asking if that was the right answer to get what he wants, no, needs from you.

He feels almost betrayed when you only lightly skim his stiff cock with the tips of your fingers, smile still in place as he gasps and jerks despite the minimal stimulation.

“I’m touching it, baby. Just how you like,” he wished you’d end the teasing, weak to your voice and touch as he grows closer to his breaking point.

“M-more please, like you usually do—,” his tone is getting whinier and more desperate.

“How do I usually do it…?” You drag one finger just up to the tip, chuckling as his hips hump uselessly up for even a tiny bit more friction. You deny him of course, playing dumb while dragging your finger around the opening where pre-cum was already pearling up.

He huffs, a light moan being drawn when you press down on his opening. “Y-you grip it, fuck, my cock—please, I-I need you,” there it was, your smile widens as tears spill freely, his eyes finally losing their defiance and cocky attitude in favor of showing you the sweet softness he holds beneath the surface just for you.

“There’s my sweet boy, I was wondering where’d you been~” you coo and give in finally, curling your fingers around his poor leaking cock and tightening until his breath became lodged in his throat and his body stiffened. “My sweet boy always tells me what he wants, doesn’t he?” You give no warning, only jerking him harshly and quickly, loving the way his eyes flash with pleasure and trepidation. Genya can’t speak anymore, only choked gasps and moans escaping as you drive him towards a quick and viscious end, back arching up, head pressing deeper into your thighs. “Wa—ngh—c-cum—please, I—!” Drool slides down the corner of his mouth as he brokenly begs for permission.

“Of course you can cum, sweet boy. Make a mess for me, ‘Nya” and he does, the vigorous stimulation right after being teased has him tumbling down the cliff’s edge as he shoots ropes of thick hot cum all over your hand inside his pants.

“Ah—!” He always cums with such emotion you can help but lean deeper and swallow his cries, tongue easily invading his mouth and tasting the sweets he likely shared with Tanjiro earlier.

He jerks as you continue your fast and unending pace, hand able to work him easier now that his cum has lubed himself up.

“S’too much—!” He can only cry against your lips, clearly becoming overwhelmed and overstimulated but you merely hush him with another kiss as he’s forced to cum again, though much less coming out but not at the cost of pleasure as his mind goes completely blank as pain bleeds into the orgasm.

When you pull away, he’s left as a true mess on your lap, dazed expression languid and body completely pliant now.

As a slayer, he’s quick to recover, eyes lazily tracking your hand coming out of his pants, sticky with his release as you bring it to your lips and make a show of licking it up.

When his cock jumps to life again under the lewd display, you happily share in the experience and press two fingers against his lips.

He doesn’t even think as he parts them, your fingers pressing in and forcing his own release inside his mouth. He cleans your fingers eagerly, less shy now and with vigor.

“Good boy, ‘Nya, clean them good, okay? Get them nice and wet, I plan to fuck your ass with them.” He nearly passes out at your vulgar language, face becoming completely molten as you work your fingers around in his mouth, rubbing against his tongue while his eyelids grow heavy. “Does that sound nice? Do you want that, Genya?” The use of his full name lets him know he needs to answer or you’ll stop. You pull your fingers away so he can speak.

“Yes, yes please, I-I want that.” He doesn’t hesitate, knowing full well you can and will deny him if he’s slow to reply. You smile and plunge your fingers back into his mouth, swirling them a bit and even intentionally poking a little too deep to see his eyes water. “Such a good boy, my good boy,” you murmur, and his heart swells at your claiming of him.

Once you’re satisfied, you pull them free with an audible pop, saliva nicely coating them while Genya sits up, expression akin to a puppy eager to please its master for a treat.

“Strip and lay down for me,” you order softly, voice never rising but command firm all the same. It sends shivers down his spine, the ability to completely let his guard down and let you make the decisions for him, let you lead him because without a doubt he trusts you.

“Slow down,” you chuckle and tell him, slowing his violently fast movements to strip into a more normal pace so you can watch his skin be revealed like a present being unwrapped. He’s scarred, a physical reminder he’s survived, but not without cost and pain. His sinewy muscles are revealed as he folds and sets aside his top like you enjoy, his upper body bare, pale skin tinged pink like his face, veins bulging out as he trembles under your stare. He’s embarrassed and aroused, painfully aroused, but it wasn’t anything new in your presence. You set him on fire, made him melt into a puddle. He’s trembling even as he stands and pulls his pants down, adorable white underwear stained and soaked from his earlier release, his cute cock smacking against his skin with a wet noise as he pulls them down and releases it.

Down his lithe muscular legs, Genya fully undresses for you, obeying and sitting back down on the tatami mat below and letting his body lay out.

“So good for me, knees up and legs spread baby,” you coo, kneeling down as well after removing a few layers yourself. He’s star struck, eyes unable to look away from your perfect figure he very much wishes to worship, licking his drying lips in anticipation.

He stays as still as possible, only twitching a little as you blow cool air on the dark reddened tip of his plush cock, the leaking tip mostly hidden by his foreskin. “Keep your eyes on me, okay? If you look away, I’ll stop.” His pupils dilate, watching as you pull his foreskin down and reveal the sensitive tip, tongue slipping out to lick him. He’s panting and you’ve hardly even begun, hands clenched in shaky fists, nails digging into his skin as he struggles to keep his eyes locked with yours as you slowly open your mouth and let a glob of spit roll down his shaft. He wants to burst, ready to cum again by sight alone but he doubts you’ll give him permission to cum before you’ve had your fill yet.

Then he feels the cool wet sensation on the tight ring of muscle below, his balls drawing up as you gently prod with a single digit until he breathes out and relaxes, earning a smile from you as your finger slips inside of him. It doesn’t even burn, only a slightly alien sensation at first as you gradually wiggle and stretch his hole, pad of your finger lightly grazing his prostate.His eyes roll back as a loud moan escapes him, hips jerking up and smearing a line of pre-cum across your lips and cheek as he stutters.

It’s too late when you completely pull away, finger leaving him as well as you sit back patiently. His eyes went wide with panic, “N-no wait—! I-I’m sorry, please, Y/N, I’ll be good, please,” his desperate little pleas tumbling out freely. “I’m not upset ‘Nya, my good boy, I just need you to look at me baby, you can be good and do that right?” He’s nodding before you even finish, a pretty flutter of dark hair moving where his mohawk rests. “Be good, I’ll be good,” he affirms, eyes so serious and strained you giggle, moving back again to his cock twitching desperately for any attention you’re willing to give it.

Genya gasps in shock as you give him two fingers this time, his ass stretching just enough for a tiny burn before it fades as you lock your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue under the skin around his tip. His eyes water, unblinking as they look at you, and you’re blessed with the sight of them finally falling as he grits his teeth and whines for you. Your fingers prod and brush his prostate, warm tongue so gentle and sweet compared to your calculated thrusts into his hole, his whines becoming delirious moans while he pants and drools, face fucked out and so cute you can’t help taking more of his cock into your mouth. He feels so good, a building thrum of pleasure swirling from both his cock and ass it’s turning his brain to mush.

“I-I need, please may I, Y/N—!” He howls your name, one eye nearly closing but he holds strong when you suck particularly hard on him. “May I cum, fuck, please, please I need—!” Tears flow freely now, his dark purple eyes reddened on the corners as they spill down his cheeks while his hips thrust up begging for release.

You pull off with a pop, free hand working his cock still just like before as he grunts almost as if in pain but you know he’s simply holding on by a thread.

“Cum for me ‘Nya, let go baby,” you encourage, and he does. Unable to deny you a single thing and truly unable to stop the white hot pleasure which rips through him as his cock twitches and spurts his hot load. You open your lips, catching his cum in your mouth as he gasps and writhes below, sweet moans and whines filling the space as you gently work him down. You pull your fingers free at last, his tight ring twitching too as you do.

He’s left a sweaty satiated mess when you pull up, easily crawling over him and slotting your lips against his. Genya opens, groaning as you push his cum into his mouth, his salty sweet taste now filling his senses along with the taste of you.

You kiss him with all the love you feel, only pulling away when you need the air finally, adoration and awe covering your slayer’s cute face.

“I love you,” he looks so vulnerable saying it, as if you rejecting him might destroy his fragile heart.

You’d never do such a thing though.

“I love you too, my sweet boy, my Genya,” and he’s gone as you affirm his love. As you claim him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and we can have dinner.” Your aftercare is nothing short of perfection, and while he’s shy in receiving such tender care and love he’s been deprived of so long, he’s unable to deny how lovely it is to be cherished like this. He might still not be on the best of terms with his brother, but he knows a safe space will always remain in your arms.

“Y/N…,” you look up, his eyes shining with tears again but this time his smile is filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” his voice is hoarse, but you laugh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest as you kiss his head.

Dividers by/@cafekitsune

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won’t Let Go

A Zombie Named Fred

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.9k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Post Apocalypse!AU, Single Mom!verse, pregnant reader, the author is still on her bullshit about the pepperoncinis, they’re both a little crazy but it’s the end of the world, the author does not have first hand experience nor a formal education on pregnancy, John is giving soft dom vibes

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Not even 48 hours in and you’re having your first argument.

You can tell by his expression that you’re not giving him the expected response. However he’s clearly no shrinking violet and doesn’t cow to your anxiety-turning-agitation.

“I was only gone for a bit and you were asleep,” he defends himself, standing his ground.

You pry your gaze from the stash of goodies he very obviously acquired with you in mind, the wheels in your brain clearly turning as you decide how much effort this will warrant and if you’re willing to expend that effort.

You’ve been a loose, limp thing for him to drag around as he sees fit. No protests so far as he uses his teeth to scruff you.

“You didn’t even tell me! It’s dangerous out there- what if something had happened?”

“I’ve been in far worse situations, Love, I can assure you that. If I’d have told you last night would you have still gone to bed?”

No.

The apocalypse has taken societal norms and attachment styles and turned them on their heads with no hope for recovery.

This man is a complete stranger to you and yet he is firmly entrenched as the center of your social circle at the moment. You most assuredly would not have responded well last night.

Your silence is loud, giving away the answer entirely.

“I needed you safe, tucked away, and not fretting,” you can feel yourself being mollified against your will, softening back up despite your desire to still prickle in displeasure.

“We don’t know how long we’ll be here until it’s safe to leave,” he continues, “and you are in no condition to be traveling far- we need supplies stocked while the area is still mostly clear from the last herd wandering through.”

That is the one good thing about herds even if they’re an absolutely terrifying sight.

Lions and tigers and bears might be scary predators, but living predators aren’t mindless killing machines. They act in a reasonable way for their species. Leave them alone, don’t fuck with their offspring and don’t make yourself look like easy prey, and they will likely leave you alone.

Zombies? The virus eats away at any rational reasoning or need to sate an ingrained desire. They want to bite, to consume, to spread the virus.

So put together a group of several hundred or several thousand and they are the stuff nightmares are made of.

But if you survive a wave of them wandering through, they pick up any stragglers in an area. They’re gregarious, for whatever that’s worth.

Still terrifying though. The peace in knowing that the local zombie population drops drastically is knowing the price comes at more individuals being added to the herd.

In short, now is about as safe a time as ever to scavenge.

You’re still staring him down, still resisting acquiescing to him on principle.

Of course, there’s little doubt that the captain views your displeasure on par with a disgruntled kitten- yowling and hissing and batting at him but harmless and ineffective.

He steps towards you- close enough he makes you tilt your head to maintain eye contact. “You can just say “Thank you” and go enjoy your peppers, Love,” he asserts, offering you an easy out.

The thought crosses your mind to dig your heels in and be stubborn.

But just the mention of the jar of pepperoncinis placates you as your craving from yesterday returns in full force, pulling your attention away from John and to the jar sitting on the counter.

He’s got you hook, line, and sinker and he knows it too.

“Thank you,” you yield, once again becoming soft and pliant in his hold.

“You’re welcome,” he steps away then, eyes following your every move as you slip past him and do in fact beeline for the peppers.

It’s the end of the world- you can have peppers for breakfast if you want to.

The only problem though is you can’t get the damn jar open.

There are certain changes with your body that you expected with the discovery of your pregnancy- the swell of your belly and your breasts, the stretch marks that criss cross your skin- and some that you learned first hand and it’s annoying.

It’s your body starting to relax itself to prepare for labor, you were told. The tendons and ligaments relaxing. Hips widening.

It also makes your grip weaker which is so incredibly frustrating.

John is at your side in a moment, prompting you with a “Give it here,” to hand him the jar to twist the lid for you.

Any lingering surliness from the discovery of John’s midnight stroll abates entirely as the smell of the peppers hits your nose.

He looks pleased with himself, giving you back the jar as you thank him.

The rest of the day passes peacefully between the two of you. This is not a permanent home, so no renovations or improvements to be made. The biggest line of defense you have here is blending so well into the rest of the abandoned houses that nothing will draw unwanted attention. The windows covered and boarded. There’s no true perimeter to check. You don’t want to catch anyone’s eye by wandering around outside.

You’ve been on the move for so long, constantly fighting and scrapping that it is nice to just sit in one place. The preggie pops despite their silly name are a Godsend. You feel like a person for the first time in months rather than a vessel just waiting to vomit at the wrong provocation.

You get nosy, looking through photos and albums of the owners. The man’s name is Fred. The woman’s name is Wilma.

There’s a fucking lego set that Fred and Wilma never got around to opening. You alternate killing time between working on that and reading. You’re in no hurry, taking your time. John putters around doing something but swings back every so often to check on you.

Eventually you will need to sort laundry, but that can probably happen in a day or so and doesn’t need to be right now.

The water still works so you figure you can just wash your clothes in the sink and then hang them somewhere outside to dry. Simple, but will occupy some time and establish a sense of normal for you. Maybe you can find some sort of clothes line if there’s not one already.

Once again the sun sets and John comes to round you up for the night and herds you up the stairs. You settle into your bed and hear John getting ready over in his and yet despite the fact your pregnancy exhausts you, you can’t sleep.

Your ears are honed in for any sort of attempt on John’s end to sneak out again.

You try to quell the concern and anxiety coiling within you, but everything is a feedback loop just building intensity until you feel like you’re going to snap.

Sleep is a lost cause at this point.

Getting out of bed is a process so you’re not rendered immobile like a turtle on its back. It takes a moment but you manage on your own.

No sooner than you sneak out to the landing you have your answer if John is still in the house. It’s not obnoxiously loud, but you can clearly hear the sound of him snoring on the other side of his door.

Your anxiety quells with the knowledge that he’s still here but doesn’t dissipate entirely.

Not quite ready to return to bed, you decide that maybe a quick snack (something other than the pepperoncinis, the baby says) is in order.

Despite being a grown adult, there’s a part of you that feels akin to a teenager sneaking out of the house.

You are not going to leave. Unlike a certain captain, you don’t have a death wish sneaking out in the middle of the night. While the soft sound of his snores assure you that he’s still sleeping you know he’d be displeased knowing you’re about to venture down the stairs by yourself.

You’re careful- equal parts trying to avoid the parts of the stairs that squeak because you’re not sure how light a sleeper John is, and equal parts simply not wanting to eat shit on the stairs. God forbid you give his concerns credibility- you don’t even want to think about what he’d do.

You haven’t been downstairs after sunset since the first night you stumbled into the house. John rather jealously keeps you herded upstairs.

You contemplate what the baby wants for a midnight snack as you cross from the stairs through the living room and into the kitchen.

Chef Boyardee sounds appealing and you don’t care about eating it cold- which is a plus because it’s one less thing for you to do versus something you’d want to eat warm.

The quiet in the house gives you time to come up with stupid fucking ideas like looking out the windows.

By and large you have been leaving them alone. There hasn’t been any sort of conversation about it between you and John, but you feel you’ve got enough of a read on him by now.

The main defense you two have is that the neighborhood is abandoned and there’s nothing special about the outside of the house. If someone happens to be strolling by and sees you moving the curtains in broad daylight- well, that seems like a good way to get your ass chewed on by John. Hence why you’ve left the windows alone.

But it’s nighttime and you’re alone.

The windows at the front of the house are boarded up, but in a slapstick, hurried fashion- there’s large gaps you can peek through as you bring your opened can of ravioli.

The street is deserted which is exactly what you expect. Not so much as a zombie shuffling through.

The neighborhood seems like it was beautiful before the end of the world. The kind of place that you always fantasized about living in.

What a weird way to get what you want.

Your mind wanders, focusing on the practicality of the fact you need to wash your clothes.

When out in the wild and forced to survive how you can, you learned to make do with dirty clothes that were lived in far longer than you prefer. But if you’re going to be cooped up in the house until your little hostage evacuates, it would be a good idea to clean them.

Curious if the backyard already has a clothes line, you carefully peel back the curtain blocking the view-

Only to be greeted with the sight of a zombie standing on the back porch right on the other side of the glass.

Your startle reflex has been trained out of you. There’s no big yelp or jump or dropping your food. Making loud noises like that can get you killed in situations where you might be able to survive if you can sneak away unnoticed.

Safely on the other side of the glass and obstructed by darkness- the zombie cannot see, hear or smell you. He gives no reaction to you, clearly having no knowledge of your existence.

You realize rather quickly that this is Fred, albeit far more gray and decayed than in the photos of him in the house. You wonder what happened to Wilma.

(It’s the goddamn apocalypse so you know statistically what happened, but a macabre curiosity for the details eats at you)

It’s not often (re: ever) that you’re in a situation to just…observe the undead. Always keeping an eye on them, always keeping tabs on what currently holds their attention, but never just a passive observation. They’re always a threat and you’re always trying to figure out how to get by or through them unscathed.

The small flick of you moving the curtain might have initially caught Fred’s attention but without the confirmation that you’re a meal to be devoured he shuffles slowly and moves away from the glass.

He’s caught in the yard, confined by the perimeter fencing. No chance of joining the herd.

You wonder why John hasn’t killed Fred yet. A singular zombie isn’t much of a threat.

Maybe he hadn’t seen Fred? The curtains had been drawn shut when he picked this house and he just kept them that way?

Seems unlikely, but arguably plausible.

You don’t see any sort of established clothing line to dry your clothes after you wash them.

You’re so fascinated by the Fred situation that you’re oblivious to the fact that John’s snoring stops. Or his door opening. Or his pause at the landing, eyes falling to your open door. Or his descent down the stairs and the huff of relief when he lays eyes on you.

You are not oblivious to the way he snarls “What in the devil are you doing?”, closing the distance between the two of you to haul you away from the glass.

The drop of the curtain catches Fred’s attention again but not enough to do more than cast an eerie shadow as he approaches.

“Why is there a zombie in the backyard?!” You keep your voice low as you hiss at John despite acquiescing as he pulls you along back towards the stairs.

“He wasn’t worth the bullet but that was before I realized you were going to go opening doors in the middle of the night!”

“I wasn’t opening the door!” You protest, suddenly aware that this conversation isn’t entirely unlike this morning’s argument when John slipping out in the middle of the night had ruffled your feathers.

“Then what are you doing down here?” He stops at the foot of the stairs, his question answered as his eyes land on the can in your free hand.

“I was eating!” You hold up the can as a beacon of your innocence, not missing the way the agitation on John’s face softens ever so slightly.

You take advantage of the opportunity to pull your arm out of his grasp.

He doesn’t try to wrestle you back into his grip- satisfied with your reasoning and the confirmation you hadn’t gone bat shit insane trying to let zombies into the house in the middle of the night.

In another life, one where the dead stay dead, you think maybe you’d still be able to wrap the captain around your finger and make him fold to your whims as easily as you accept his.

You’re pretty sure, however, that it’s just your delicate state that’s got him yielding to you. That keeping you alive, and ultimately getting you and your baby back to this settlement that he and his group watches over gives a sense of purpose where he’s otherwise aimless, trapped like an animal in a vivarium until he can safely find his way back home.

“Go finish your food,” he tells you firmly- still far more subdued than moments ago.

Again, not unlike this morning when he diffused the argument then.

Both of you are still maintaining your ground, but finding a way to keep the peace- you’re all the other has got in this situation.

He hovers as you make your way back to the kitchen- the moonlit shadow of Fred gone from the curtains, implying he’s aimlessly wandering the yard.

You don’t have much left of it, which is a good thing because eating while being watched just feels weird. You know he wants to drag you by your scruff back up the stairs and situate you for the night.

And that’s exactly what he does after you quickly clean after yourself.

Always with him and the stairs, he guides you up while following behind.

Where he throws you for a loop is when you expect to slink off to your own room, only for you to find one of his arms wrapping around your torso and cutting you off from your intended destination.

“Need to make sure you don’t go sneaking off again,” is all the reason he gives as he herds you towards his bed.

He’s the one who started all this by leaving last night on his own, but you decide to not light that particular candle. You can admit to missing the comfort of sharing a bed, and that the nights have been getting colder as fall begins to give way to winter.

Before the end of the world, you’d be giving this a long hard think. But the rules are different now- the way you interact and mesh with people has changed so drastically. Everything is in the fast lane.

You’re utterly dependent on John. Been at his mercy for days. If he was going to do something, surely he would have done it by now?

So you yield to the arm pressing lightly at your side- a request that while stern is not escalating to a demand.

You let him guide you towards his room.

A wave of exhaustion hits that holds your interest more than the decor of the room- there’s no personal touches or stashes of goodies hidden away. You get yourself situated under John’s watchful eye, and yet somehow it feels weirdly intimate to watch him so you look off at the wall as he gets in.

John stays on his side between you and the door, you stay on yours and if he says anything you don’t hear it. One second you’re blinking at the wall and the next you’re out like a light.

[smfolklore]

Ignorance

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Author's Note : Okay she's here! This is 2.5K, I hope you enjoy it! Please leave me your thoughts, if you'd be so kind. I'm so happy that you all liked the first story I wrote. It motivated me to write this!

Synopsis : Y/N goes to Uriah's dormitory and gets incredibly tipsy (she's obliterated). Her instructor discovers this and is snarky with her because he's jealous.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Present Time

My head is fucking pounding. I can hear only the persistent throbbing echoing throughout my brain. But it's what I deserve.

Uriah invited me to a “small” gathering happening among him and his two fellow Dauntless-Born companions. What I didn’t expect was the mass amount of alcohol that we were going to consume that night.

But I didn’t exactly say no. 

I will never deny an opportunity to have fun. When I lived with the Abnegation, there was zero tolerance for fun. It’s the one regulation I will never miss. There were aspects that I loved, like the simplicity and generosity of the people, but the negative aspect of this faction is that they were far too rigid.

In that, Dauntless is the complete opposite. And it’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with how at ease life is here. There are zero regulations (which is.. concerning), but to me that only indicates freedom.

Which is why last night, I drank. I consumed every shot that was handed to me, which if I remember correctly was eight. I’d never drank an ounce of alcohol before yesterday, which should have steered me into complacency but it didn’t.

–––

Uriah’s Dormitory - The Day Before

My face is slightly red as I feel the warmth of the liquor pulsing through me, and I’m trying desperately to contain the giggle slipping by.

We’re in Uriah’s dormitory. There’s six of us: Myself, Uriah, Lynn, Christina, Marlene, and Will. Christina and Will are desperately attempting to sing a chosen song, a microphone in each hand and while everyone is laughing and enjoying the euphoric sensation rolling through them, I feel the entire weight of my figure get heavy.

Uriah laughs at my expression, “Are you okay!”

And before I can even respond, I’m shaking my head with an erupting laugh, “No! No! I can’t stop laughing”.

I feel Uriah plop beside me, and I let my back hit the mattress as I see him lay across it. We’re a chaotic mess of laughing and bloodshot eyes. I blink at him slowly and see the lazy grin on his face.

“I am so fucking drunk right now”.

His grin stretches, “I feel complete. I’ve managed to intoxicate a girl from Abnegation. I never thought I would see the day”.

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief and let out a laugh as I say, “This is the first and the last time. I swear it”.

I don’t, actually.

I’m having far too much fun. Christina and Will are doing Karaoke, Lynn and Marlene are holding onto each-other for balance as they laugh so hard that they’re wheezing, and Uriah and I are laying across his mattress trying to gather our bearing’s. 

I can do this for the rest of my life. This faction is so liberating in spite of its faults.

Before I’m able to register it, Uriah is gripping onto my two wrists and using them as leverage to pull me upright. I’m still a pile of limbs, my body incoherent almost, but I grin as I see him pulling me to my feet.

Once I’m standing I hear a quick, “Our turn!” and my eyes widen dramatically. I can’t sing.

“No, Uriah! I can’t!”

But he’s smiling and I relent as he directs us to the stand that’s hosting the microphones. I pick one up, and as soon as I recognize the song that’s playing I turn to Uriah excitedly and exclaim, “How do you know this song!”

–––

Present Time

When I manage to open my eyes, I’m groggy. Beside me is Uriah, and beside him is Lynn as well as Marlene. We all fell asleep at his dormitory. I use the knuckle of my finger to get completely free of the drowsiness that is looming over me.

I groan as I force myself to sit up. I push myself toward the opposite side of the mattress, softly tying my laces and straightening my clothing. I laugh a little when I see Christina and Will on the couch beside the microphone post. Regardless of how close they’ve managed to become, they swear that they aren’t romantic. Yeah right.

I’ve become accustomed to waking up at 4 in the morning given my training session with Four. In spite of the fact that the first stage is complete, he’s prolonged our training. I didn’t ask him, he simply did. I’d expected him to stop the session, but he never opened the topic, and I certainly wasn’t going to propose it.

I enjoyed our time together.

In the last six week’s, Four and I have built upon our relationship. Our dynamic is.. fairly complicated. There are moments where I feel the tension dissipate and it often indicates the beginning of a friendship, but then he can quickly revert to the distant instructor I see so often.

I can admit that it hurts. I don’t know where I stand when I’m with him and it’s by far the most confusing relationship I’ve ever had. He’s gentle and patient one moment, and the next he’s curt and stern.

This pattern of inconsistency is only intensifying my doubt. I have no clue as to whether or not he thinks I’m attractive. Or if he even likes me. And it’s only served to irritate me. When I see him, I remain indifferent. 

It’s for the absolute best is what I tell myself. He’s clearly not interested in me. He had six entire week’s to give me even an inkling that he likes me, and he hasn’t. I can’t help the disappointment that I feel, I’d thought given the tension within our first session that there was more, but I can’t force him to find me appealing, can I?

I make my way into Uriah’s restroom, searching through the cabinet until I find what I was in need of. A new toothbrush. There’s no way I’m going to train with my insanely hot instructor without brushing my teeth. It’s like asking him to stop training me, when in reality I want to improve. I want to succeed here.

I wash my face, and even manage to brush my hair with a new comb I found stashed beside his toothbrush. I slip out of his dormitory as quietly as I can manage, trying to let them rest. I can’t have them discovering where I go so early in the morning. It wasn’t explicitly said that my training with Four is going against a protocol, but I don’t want to involve him if it is. So I maintain this secret for myself.

It’s 4:47 when I stroll into the training center, and I thank myself internally when I see that I’m alone. He isn’t here yet. I go toward the fountain, and sip on the fresh water pouring through as I wait for him to arrive.

I walk onto the platform, and begin to stretch softly, knowing that I’ll love the open range of motion it’ll give me when I’m fighting against Four. He doesn’t train me easily, not like he started throughout our first session. I’ve landed on my spine so many times, albeit softly. He isn’t unnecessarily rough, but he is rough enough to get his lesson through. 

I have my arm in front of me as I do a stretch when I hear the unmistakable latch of the front door. I peer over my shoulder and see the set of his face; cold.

He isn’t happy.

I carefully watch as he steps onto the platform and before I can register it I’m blurting out, “Nice night?”, with the intention of lightening the atmosphere.

His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t even meet my eye when he curtly says, “For some”.

This has my eyes widening slightly, as I’m a bit stunned. His body language is telling me that, unfortunately, he was not as fortunate. He’s tense, and his fists are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forearms are prominent. I put my arm down from my stretch and tilt my head, as I mutter to myself, “Okay, then”.

My attention snaps to him when I hear him say in an almost dull tone, “You look exhausted”. I frown wondering why he would point that out, but regardless I respond reluctantly, “We went to Uriah’s dormitory last night”.

All I get in response is an indifferent, “We?”. He’s not even looking at me, which confuses me. He’s untying his laces in order to get into position. Why is he being so adamant on evading me?

I shift from one foot to the other, ease in my voice, “Yep. Uriah, Will, Christina, Marlene, and Lynn. We were.. just learning how to play a card game”. It’s silly to not be honest about this but I don’t know if telling your initiation instructor that you got obliterated the night before is appropriate.

He meets my eye. Finally, but he’s looking at me without amusement as he fires in response, “Guzzling alcohol must be synonymous with learning a card game”.

I’m astounded by how affected he is at learning that his initiates are drinking. It’s entirely normal, but it’s not like I’m going to advertise it too. I furrow my eyebrow at the bite in his tone and feel irritation bubbling within me.

“How do you know what we were doing?”, I respond indignantly.

I watch as his shoulders tense, and it would have been entirely unrecognizable if not for the fact that I’m constantly observing him. I can’t help it, I want to understand him. How he thinks, what he’s feeling, and it goes beyond attraction. There’s a magnetic pull that I feel when I’m with him. 

He’s seamless in his response, “It isn’t exactly difficult to figure out. You're pale and dehydrated”.

I tilt my head and slightly narrow my vision, “There’s no way for you to know that I’m dehydrated, Four”. I’ve caught him; he’s a liar. I stare at him intently as I analyze his carefully crafted expression. I think about last night, attempting to recall a memory that could help me decipher how he’s in the loop of what I did in Uriah’s dormitory. 

And I do. 

It was Zeke. He came to Uriah’s dormitory to tell him about a family dinner.. and in return he helped us all consume as much water as possible. And he forced us all to swallow an Acetaminophen Tablet to prevent the headache that all of us would surely have the following morning.

He must’ve told Four when he left. I don’t know how, or when, but it’s the only possibility that I can think of. Zeke and Four have a friendship and because of that Four is going to hear about Uriah’s antics. Zeke likely mentioned to Four that his entire group of initiates is going to be fucking hungover for the session today.

He isn’t entirely wrong.

Four doesn’t react, simply getting into position and motioning for me to replicate it. But I don’t. I glance at the clock and read the time as 4:54, muttering, “It’s not 5 o'clock yet. We have time”. 

–––

Four’s Point of View

I narrow my gaze at her and try to prevent my body language from giving away just how much irritation is coursing through me.

I’ve felt this gnawing sense of discomfort fill me since the moment Zeke entered my apartment last night, divulging how Uriah and three of my initiates are getting “hammered” in his dormitory.

It isn’t the alcohol that has me tensing my shoulders, or narrowing my gaze at her, it's the disturbing thought that she was with him. I’ve noticed how close they’ve become.. they eat together, I see them in the pit together, and apparently Zeke placed her to sleep beside Uriah last night as well. Granted there were two extra people on the mattress with them.

In spite of the fact that logically, I’m aware nothing could have occurred, there’s a persistent ache of discomfort in my chest that I can’t identify properly. This can’t be jealousy. I can’t like her.

And yet, when I flick my gaze to her, and locate the determination in her eyes to find out what I’m hiding, I find my throat going dry in appeal. 

“I didn’t agree to having a conversation with you, I agreed to train you so that you can improve your fighting” I respond curtly.

There’s a flicker of hurt that catches on her expression and it immediately has me wanting to retract my response. But I don’t, because I can’t. If I tell her the truth, about what I know, I’ll have to explain why I’ve reacted the way that I have. And that will open a conversation that can’t be opened until she isn’t my initiate. Until I can tell her how I feel without putting her in a position where she might feel obligated to return my affection.

It isn’t fair to her. And if I’m going to pursue this.. It has to be done correctly.

So I persist, “Position yourself”.

But she doesn’t. She’s hesitating, and it frustrates me. She grits out in irritation, “Tell me how you know what we were doing”.

I’m almost stunned by the way she’s spoken to me. Y/N has always maintained that line of respect even through the telling of a joke, or when we’re in a session. But now she’s wary, and she’s considering the truth as a possibility; that I like her. 

The thought that Y/N might discover my affection for her has reverted me to the default personality that I’ve adopted since the moment that I chose this faction; cold. I cannot let her figure it out before she’s designated an official member.

I pause, tilting my head in an almost sadistic way as I stalk toward her as intimidatingly as I can. My demeanor is insulting, and I’m aware that the next thing I say may ruin the small connection that we’ve developed. But what choice do I have?

“I advise that you learn how to address your superior. I only agreed to this to help you learn how to fight. If you aren’t going to comply, then get out”, his tone is menacingly calm, but there is an undercurrent of condescension. He’s speaking to her in a manner that would resemble a conversation he’s having with an imbecile.

And it’s enough to hurt her feelings. He sees the flicker of emotion on her face before she decidedly takes a step away from him. 

Her expression is masked, a glimpse of nothing. “Fine”, she mutters, voice indifferent. Her expression is blank when she glances away from him. And it’s blank as she laces her shoes. And when I hear the latch of the steel entryway, I groan as I come to terms with the fact that I’ve only pushed her further into the arm’s of Uriah, and directly away from me. She’s going to hate me. I watched the hurt consume her, and then I watched her mask it with the ease only a person from Abnegation can adopt. I wonder if she’ll come back tomorrow.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 20

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

M!troll x f!reader

1.2 k words

Two steps forward and one step back. Just because both of you admitted to wanting more doesn’t mean there’s not still a lot of unknowns and worries.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

————

Zen had pulled the covers up and over both of you, trying to block out the light while you very gently played with his hair to help him fall asleep. Medicine, tea, and left over pastries all consumed, it was now just time to sleep it off.

“I did not do anything too bad, did I?” he asked cautiously.

“What? When you were drunk last night?” you asked back.

“Yeah”.

“Nothing bad but you were an absolute pain when I was trying to wipe your face off. You kept trying to cuddle and nuzzle, which would have been sweet if you weren’t drenched and really needed your face cleaned”.

“Well, if that is the worst of it then that is not that bad, and it seems you did manage to eventually wipe me off at any rate”.

“I had to straddle you and pin you down to get you to hold still enough”.

“That is still not bad really, and I quite like being under you” he purred.

“I could tell, because when I tried to just lay on you and cuddle afterwards you wouldn’t stop grinding on my leg”.

“Oh” he said sounding a little embarrassed now.

“I ended up giving you a hand so to speak”.

“As in…?”

“As in you told me you liked my hands since they’re small and soft and feel better than using yours” you hinted.

“Oh spirits” he groaned.

“It’s fine” you smiled against his chest, “I mean you were such a good boy for me after all”.

You could not help but enjoy the soft sigh he let out in response to your words, how much he enjoyed the praise was rather endearing.

“And that is it? That is everything that that happened?” he asked.

“Well you got your shirt stuck on your tusks and couldn’t get it off, so I had to rescue you from that. And then you ended up getting cum all on your chest and stomach and when I went to get up to grab a washcloth to help you clean up you pulled me on you again so we both ended up being sticky”.

“I am so sorry” he sounded mortified now.

“It’s just cum. I mean I didn’t want to sleep sticky but it’s fine”.

“But that is it though?”

“Well” you began again, “You also told me that swallowing after the blowjob was attractive and were very concerned that it made you weird for liking it. Oh, and then even after you finished you still were grinding between my thighs so at that point I just rolled over and let you fuck my thighs until you fell asleep”.

Zen stayed silent, shifting uncomfortably for a while before finally saying something, “I am so sorry for how I acted, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable”.

“Uncomfortable? Zen you never made me uncomfortable. I was a little frustrated when you wouldn’t hold still for me to wipe your face, and sure I wouldn’t have chosen to sleep covered in cum, but you didn’t do anything wrong. We got drunk, you ate me out, then you drunkenly babbled and were horny, all very normal things” you assured him. You figured he would probably be a bit embarrassed over the babbling, but this was not the reaction you expected.

“Why would you think I was uncomfortable?” you asked.

“I was pushy, right?”

“No, you really weren’t. And even when I turned you down you didn’t push back or anything. I know I got weird and quiet earlier when you were talking but that wasn’t because of yesterday, I’m just not used to that sort of intensity, it’s wasn’t because you humped my leg” you laughed, hoping to drag Zen out of the beginning of what seemed to be a panic spiral.

“I did not want to get married” he said quietly.

“And I didn’t want to leave my kingdom. But this is where we are now and I don’t think it’s a bad place to be”.

“I know, and I am happy having you in my life so please do not be upset, but you always expected an arranged marriage even if this is not exactly how you expected it. I never expected to ever marry, and if I did then I assumed it would be to someone I grew to know and love over time. I still do not know what to do. I never got the chance to love someone, to be together with someone truly, and now I do not know to do this”.

You kissed his chest and then nuzzled the spot you kissed. “I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but I’ve never had the chance to have a relationship either, so this is all new to me too. And I never expected to actually have a real relationship in an arranged marriage, but this is honestly better than I expected to have”.

“I truly am glad that this is not awful for you, I would not be able to stomach it if you were miserable here, and I do not mean to sound callous, but I worry that while this is better than expected for you that it is not enough for me”.

It stung, and you were happy Zen could not see your face to see the hurt on it. The two of you rarely spoke about the conditions of your marriage, it was not like either of you could change it after all, but especially after he had just spoken about getting to know you and courting you it hurt to hear how upset over things he sounded.

“I thought you just said wanted to court me” you mumbled.

“I do. I want to get to know you, and fall for you, and know that if we met and got the chance to choose that I could say I would have chosen you, and you me. But I still barely know you and I hate that. I hate that you barely know me and I worry that we will get to know each other and not like the people we are.

“And maybe it is selfish, but I hope you will love me one day. I do not want a marriage where my wife just tolerates me, or is just alright with me. I want to be a good husband and person who you can love” he paused, “And I want to love you” he added quietly.

You had always been alright with the idea of loveless marriage as long as your husband was decent enough. It was fine for your parents, and everyone else in your social standing after all, it was just the culture.

Zen was kind, respectful, he took care of you, and was more than just a decent husband by far, but he needed things to be more than just decent between the two of you. He needed a lot more than you did.

“Then lets do that” you broke the silence.

“What?”

“Get to know each other better. We both already decided on that earlier anyways, and I know that now you’re worried about things not working, but I like the idea of loving my husband. I’d like to try” you nuzzled against him, hoping to reassure him.

He tightened his grip on you, and while it was faint you heard a slight purr, “I’d like that too”.

————

Part 21

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen (won’t let me tag you)

[joshym]

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 

“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“And this is your room,” Muriel stops before a door along the short hallway. “You have a neighbour just across the hall, and two more on the other side of the kitchen.”

You nod. It isn’t an ideal situation. Not one you ever saw yourself in. But survival isn’t built for the fussy. There are many others like you. Those not so lucky, those who are dead. Many who never got the choice of a new home.

You keep your hand on your rolling bag, your other on your canvas knapsack. They’re full of items that aren’t your own. Second-hand clothes acquired from shelters and toiletries given out by the support workers. You’re on your own now.

“Anything else, dear?” Muriel asks to your silence.

“Thank you, Muriel,” you murmur.

She hands you the key and leaves. Before showing you your own space, she took you around those shared by the rest of her boarders. You suppose they’re your roommates now. A kitchen, two bathrooms, a front room with a tattered couch and old tube television. You’ll stick to your own four walls.

You slide the key in the slot, the metal grinding loudly. You hear a throat clear and peer towards the noise. The walls must be thin. You’re still alone. You let yourself into the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You flip the lock back into place before you shove your bags by the wall.

There’s a twin bed with a metal frame, a single night table, and a standing lamp. There’s also a shallow closet. It’s not much but you don’t need more than that. It’s good to have a roof over your head.

You sit on the lumpy mattress and the frame squeaks loudly. You stand up again and pace around. There isn’t too much room. It shouldn’t matter, you won’t need it. You’ll be out working and back to sleep again. You start tomorrow at the convenience shop.

You hear a thump and your head pops up. You can’t help but jump in your shoes. Ever since the city rained down around you, every bump, every sudden noise has you skittish. It’s nothing, only another boarder.

You go to your bag and unbuckle the flap. You pull out a can of beans and the pocket knife in the side pocket. You go back to the bed and sit, another shrill whine from the metal frame. You pull out the can open from the pocket knife and peel back the lid. On the same keychain is a small metal spork you use to scoop out the beans, eating them cold as your stomach growls hungrily.

You eat, bite by bite, staring at the wall, just beside the only window. It isn’t home. You don’t expect one of those. It’s just a place to live. To survive.

🚪

You take your toothbrush and your tube of toothpaste with you to the bathroom down the hall. It’s just across from the other bedroom on that side of the flat. The doorway is dark, beckoning you inside. You flip on the light and shut the door as you enter.

You turn on the tap and set to brushing your teeth. Such a basic and simple task but one you didn’t always have the chance to do. It’s almost soothing to feel the bristles in your mouth. It makes you feel almost normal.

You take your time as the mint flavour sticks to your tongue. You rinse your brush and flick off the excess water, sliding it back into the travel tube and capping the paste. You look at yourself in the mirror, not for long, just to make sure you still recognise you.

You clutch your things in one hand and flick the light off. You open the door and nearly shriek at the shadow waiting in the hall. You waver in the doorway as a tiny wisp escapes your throat. You blink as the dark silhouette stands with arms crossed in the dim hall.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says gruffly.

He's tall but mostly obscured. His hair wings out around his neck and his shoulders bulge broadly. You feel his eyes boring into you, as he can see through the darkness and you.

You dip your chin and sidle out, keeping your distance as you sidestep along the wall. You should apologise but your voice is buried deep down. You put your hand up in a show of deference.

“You done?” He asks.

You pause and look at the plaster across from you. You nod then turn your back to him completely. He must be the neighbour. You quickly shuffle to your room and hide behind the door. It’s much better than the shelter, you don’t have someone rolling into your sleeping bag, but still, you’re claustrophobic.

You mourn that most. The sense of privacy. Of personal space. Have a place that’s your own with people you know. People you love.

You toss your toothbrush and toothpaste onto the night table and huff as you sit on the bed. You frown and push your head back, trying to soothe the tightness between your shoulders. You blow out, breath rattling as your nose tingles.

You can never go back to Sokovia or how it was. You can only go forward and the road ahead is very lonely.

[g3l3mb]

how to generate creative ideas:

(i need to get this out of my brain)

Make moodboards, playlists, keep a list of people who inspire you. Before starting a project think about the general vibe you want it to embody. Ask questions like “What would this concept sound like if it was a song?” ,“What would this concept be like if it was a person?”. Create a shirt that looks like a building you like, literally anything can be combined.

Take unrelated things or concepts and mix them together. Let’s take Addams Family as an example. “What if it was a story about a typical suburban family…but GOTH!”. It basically flips everything upside down. Or “What outfit would someone wear, who’s personality is the mix of the vibes of these two songs?” Random word generators are amazing for this if you don’t know where to start from.

Try making something truly BAD and then add a twist to it. It’s a great way for your brain to let go of expectations and then think outside of the box. But you can also use this to find out what you do not wanna do under any circumstances.

Think without worrying about the limits of what you can do and when it’s time for excecution, find a way around what’s impossible. It births more creativity and adds uniqueness.

Consider what your idea is NOT before considering what it is. Limits are the best way to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up. Don’t ALWAYS do this though (unless you wanna…), it’s just something to try out when you feel like you’re seeing too many possibilities to the point that they’re contradicting each other. Unless your goal is to make something full of contradictions, you’re a Free Man, do whatever you want.

Keep a list of random ideas you have throughout the day in your notes app or something and then at some point actually review them. Keep what you think is worth exploring and then act on it.

Find out how something works very throughoutly so you know which aspect can be changed to create something new.

Take a concept and break it down into smaller concepts, ideas, questions, key elements and then also break those ideas down etc. This will naturally lead to associations, unique ideas you wouldn’t think of without doing this. I found that this is a great way of coming up with metaphors.

This one is similar to the last two: take a piece of art you really love and try to find out the thought process behind. What’s the story, where did the artist get inspiration from, how did they incorporate those ideas in their work. How did an artist combine their personal interests and knowledge into one big thing. For example: Tolkien was an erudite linguist, so much so that he created entire functional languages in his work, such as Elvish in Lord of the Rings. Hirohiko Araki loves 80’s music so much he named characters in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure after music references. This is why no knowledge is useless knowledge.

Think about the times you’ve been the most creative before. What were the specific circumstances? For me my best ideas always come when I have a strict deadline for something unrelated, like school (which I’m way too willing to sacrifice), or when I’m doing something mindless like walking and listening to music, or playing a game that requires no thinking. Most of the time after 10p.m. This doesn’t mean I can’t “force” myself to be creative (tips above), it just means these are the times ideas come most naturally. For some people this might be being out in nature or experiencing high emotions, maybe having their life on the line idk, to each their own.

You can’t just create. You also need to consume. The more information you absorb, the more possibilities you have with your ideas. So if you’re not feeling that creative, that’s fine, it’s the perfect opportunity to learn something new.

If you don’t already do these things and you’re looking to get more creative my advice is to ACTUALLY TRY THESE OUT. You’ll best understand them in action.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, soldier, medic, and spy

↳ warnings: mentions of surgery and alcohol

↳ song: runaround sue—dion

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He’s such a doofus. It takes him at least a month to pick up on it

• The entire time you’re flirting or making moves on him, he’ll jokingly reciprocate it under the impression that you’re just joshing around

• It takes one of the other team members approaching him for the mercenary to realize what was actually going on

• “Son.” Engineer had sighed as he stood in the doorway to Scout’s very messy room, “You do realize they like you?”

• Scout’s very dismissive and red faced about it

• “What? Psh. Stop messing with me, Engie. Don't you have sentries to build or somethin’?”

• The second Engineer leaves, he’s practically tearing up his room in a tirade of emotions

• Overthinks the past few months with you way too much. Practically wears a spot into the floor from all the nervous pacing he does

• In the end, Scout confronts you to ask you out

• Tries to be formal, but we all saw how that turned out with Miss Pauling. Eventually just gives up on trying to be suave— and not succeeding —to blurt out what he’s thinking

• “So, uh, yeah. I’m not so. Er. Good at this sappy stuff, but there’s a Tom Jones museum I think we could go check out. Together.” Scout pauses, accent only getting thicker with worry, “Alone. Y’know?”

• Over the moon when you say yes. All nerves dissipate and are immediately replaced with a cross between a smug and relieved victory

• If you look close enough at his ears, they’re a little pink

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫

• If he hasn’t known you for long, Soldier will actually just chalk your actions up to being a communist spy

• A very exasperated Demoman had to get Miss Pauling to bring in heavily classified paperwork on you just to prove to him you weren’t a commie

• “Very well maggot! I’ll believe you— for now! Sleep with one eye open!” Soldier had barked, slamming down your file on the dining room table as a tired Pauling watched. You noted that the papers were upside down, and you doubt he even read them. Or that he could read

• He’s very blunt with everything. Words, actions, emotions, etc. Doesn’t understand why other people can’t just do the same. It would make conversation so much easier to him

• So he’s not oblivious to your attention per se. Just very curious, I suppose

• It takes maybe less than two weeks after the Communist Incident, as Demo had dubbed it, for him to corner you

• “Maggot! Do you find me attractive?” He demanded

• You’d been eating breakfast at the time, and almost choked to death on your laughter at the question

• “Short answer, yes.” You gasped through wheezy laughter, the volume only increasing at the frown on Soldiers face. “Follow up question; is that really how you just asked if I had a crush on you?”

• Nods and booms back that he thinks you’re also easy on the eyes. Proposes the idea of doing a training course with you sometime. Breaks out into a crooked grin when you accept

• “Excellent! I expect you up at oh five hundred for the course tomorrow!” He saluted you, which was Soldier equivalent to a bone crushing hug of respect

• You returned it, and missed the way his eyes crinkled with happiness behind the brim of his helmet

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Always so consumed in his work that he probably just ends up finding out from Archemedies

• The birds had always been allowed to rest on your shoulder while he performed risqué experiments on you, acting as a distraction from the feeling of someone sifting around in your guts

• I guess the dove had picked up on one too many looks you’d tossed the ex-doctors way

• To this day, no one can understand how the two of them can communicate, but one thing leads to another and suddenly Medic is looming in your doorframe silently

• “What’s up, doc?” You’d greeted him with a Bug’s Bunny quote and a grin. Medics lips only twitched up slightly as he pushed his glasses back up the brim of his nose

• “A little bird told me zhat someone has a crush, ja?” He barreled right into the topic, leaving no room for you to prepare for the sudden accusation. Medics scrutinizing gaze didn’t miss the way your eyes glanced in the direction of his lab, no doubt silently cursing Archemedies

• “No need to fear, freund.” He unclasped his gloved hands from behind his back and approached you. “I simply am here to offer you a deal.”

• Turns out the deal was a chance talk over cheap beer in his office. Pretty rare, considering how much of his time Medic chose to dedicate to work

• “I’ll take it.” You shook his hand, briefly noting how large it seemed even when compared to you

• “Vunderbar, mein schatz.” Medic smiled gently, leaving you to wonder what he had just said

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• There is no hiding when it comes to this French fuck

• Spy immediately picks up on every glance. Every chance of avoided eye contact and unnecessary clearing of a throat

• Suddenly he seems to be a lot more talkative towards you than normal. Hanging out by your side at gatherings rather than a dark corner with cigarette smoke curling around his head

• Fleeting touches slowly begin to sprinkle themselves in between conversation. A hand on the shoulder here, and a brief touch to the pulse point there

• The first time he did the latter, he noticed how fast your heart was beating and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a slight chuckle

• If he was nicer, Spy would definitely take action and approach your first. In fact, sometimes he almost finds himself wanting to

• But the man knows how people work. If you truly wanted to pursue him, you would come around eventually. No point in making rash decisions. He was a patient man, after all

• A small part of his ego preened at the thought of making you work for it

• And come around you did eventually did

• Finds himself opening the door to his smoking room one late night only to be met with the image of a very frazzled looking you

• You rush out something about a date too fast for his ears to catch. Spy is simply too busy letting his eyes roam over your casual cloathing and slight fidgeting. The crooning of an old French record plays from behind him as he blinks down at you

• “Would you like to come in?” He finally sighs out, opening the door a little wider in the form of an invitation

• By the time you manage to get inside, you notice he already had a wine glass set out for you