#HIS POINT OF VIEW IS THIS : TAKE WHATEVER YOU CAN GRAB ! / answers .

[aaksuitac]

[04:24 am] “what are we?”

wc: 2.3k

a/n: [fluff viktor brainrot thanks to @dilemmars. t dije q me vengaría baby, así q zas, un payback por tus podcasts jdjfjjsd. hope u like cause its ur fault]

he’s humming something you don’t quite understand, a distant tune that sounds familiar —probably you’ve heard him sing it before—, and even if you don’t recognize the melody aside from that, you can’t help but appreciate it.

his hands fidget with whatever he can reach as he sighs once more, as if he was stealing breaths from the world, heavy, almost as lidded as his eyelids. his hair falls on his eyes and in between his slender fingers while he curls the untamed strands, and you fall into an endless pit of staring at him as he scribbles, grunts, sighs, and finally pinches the bridge of his nose.

“statistically speaking, i’m starting to feel like the chances of me getting this right are adversatively proportional to the chances of you accidentally swallowing a fly.”

and you just blink, once, then twice.

he stares at you, gives you a pointed look. he can’t really say if you understood that you were just staring at him with your mouth parted, but you squint at him, snickering.

“what,” his low voice fails to ask, unbothered, knowing that you’ll answer regardless.

and you do, answering. “you haven’t even uttered a word in a while. i was just surprised that you could still talk, is all,” you grin cheekily, playing with a screw on the table as you turn left and right on the chair you’re sitting on.

viktor looks at you, and he can’t help but crack a smile. point for you.

“what you laughing for, mhh, mister science?”

“isn’t it enough to bother me from the moment i get inside the lab in the morning that you need to do it at night too?” he pretends seriousness, side-eyeing you teasingly.

“fair enough. i will consider your offer, man of fleeting memory, and take it upon myself to bother you longer.”

his mean stare wouldn’t even make a kitten mewl, but you take you hand to your heart, pretending to be wounded.

“don’t look at me like that! you’ll hurt my feewings,” you pouted, much to his amusement.

“fleeting memory?” he scoffs, accent rolling off his tongue. “when’s the last time you lost a hairtie, mmh?” he mocks.

“unfair!” you can’t help but giggle as you pretend to hide your hair from his view. point for him. “besides. i take better care of my hair than you do of yours.” you pouted smuggly. “mine looks prettier.”

“what?” he finally asks, letting out a chuckle this time as his eyes land on you for the first time in the good part of an hour.

you play with your hair to style it, and funnily pose, hands on your cheeks as you lay your elbows on the table.

“what, don’t I look pretty?” you smiled, letting out a cheeky giggle.

yes. he doesn’t say it, but his eyes haven’t dodged back to his papers just yet. it’s another point for you. so very pretty.

he doesn’t dare. he knows it. his mind, or at least the small portion of his mind that still ties him with the occasional reminder that he’s human, looks at you and wants you in a way that he’s never wanted before.

so viktor resolves in looking at you. maybe only for a moment, maybe only on those fragments of time when he’s tired enough that he looks at the stars and at the moon, yearning to reach them, only to think he’ll miss the moonlight, finally blinking to the realization that he had been staring into your eyes for too long.

his eyes are dull as he stares at you, and your expression of worry at the fact makes his heart skip a beat. “viktor?” you mumble, softly, sleepily, warily. he can’t stop staring at you, and while he supposes success and defeat can look the same in a mirror —therefore, he doesn’t really blame your confusion—, he finds no words to explain which one he’s feeling as you move your chair towards him by a push against the floor, solely accompanied by the sound of the little wheels rolling to him.

he grabs his walking stick and turns it around, pretending to poke at your chair, as if to teasingly shove it away. if you realize that he settles the walking stick just in the correct place so that your stool can’t move back, he doesn’t know. viktor just stares at the floor, to pretend that maybe the way your eyes turn tender when his reflection shines on them has nothing to do with what you’re about to say.

tsk, tsk. clueless viktor.

he’s expecting it, yes, but even with that on mind, he can’t phathom how your course of action chooses laughing as you fidget with the loose button on his vest, the second one from the top down. viktor purposely forces himself to stable his breathing, worry seeping into him, thinking that maybe you could feel his heartbeat grow faster beneath the layers of clothing.

and he feels like the remnants of a cheap ring that stain a finger blue, when comparing himself as he stands —sits— close and next to you. maybe its because you usually wear rings, and he can feel the ghost of them as your hand trails up and absentmindedly fixes his collar.

he can almost see it. your mind working, the pieces falling into place, the—

“either my eyes are deceiving me or yours have been on my lips for a rather long time.”

and he can just. blink. as if that could break how mesmerized he feels, how his heart swells up and covers his throat, how inexplicably he feels when you’re with him, near and alone. the need to know more. the need to use every trinket and screw to map out your body for him to explore, and to map out the wonders of your mind for the world to admire and maybe then find out the reason of his inability to look away.

he was so focused before. used to be.

he is. now, at you. of you. on you.

you.

another point for you. he isn’t keeping count, but something tells him he’s losing.

and as his gaze falls back to your lips in between a battle against your eyes, lost in which to stare and sink into their devotion, he hesitates again.

he thinks its funny. so funny, viktor holds back the dry chuckle that threatens to go past his lips. how to cherish you in a way that matters. how to love, the scientist wonders. is there a way that would allow him to unveil and unravel himself to you? could there be some kind of language, able to express the depth of his insides, that you, too, could understand?

what is love, anyways? is he in love with you because his coffee tastes better when it matches the dark of your pupils? because when he takes the mug from your hand and his fingers brush against yours, it seems warmer? because he notices how the dark shade in your eyes seems to mix with that of your irises, and the way the black eats the colour when you stare at him? because he claims to hate company while he studies alone, but one chair remains empty as he works, waiting for who it was meant for? because when he fails and surrenders himself to the fall, throws his walking stick against the wall, he yearns for your embrace and how your hair smells in the evenings?

is that love? and if it is, could you understand it?

if it is love, and he could say it, would such a short word convey its meaning, or was he speculating just a couple of paragraphs ago? was he assuming the meaning of what love entails?

even so. if he said it, would you repeat it? would you claim you love him because he loves you, claim to love him too? would you instead claim to love him despite everything, even the uncertainty of love itself?

…does he accept it himself?

he’s overwhelmed by the sheer amount of voices in his head. there’s too much chatter. too many questions he can’t answer, too many commas, too many question marks. too much, too much, too many.

so he silences them. makes the voices dim to a deep silence. and when his lips find themselves suddenly against yours, he finds out the true, effervescent meaning of quietness.

his hand fails to pull you closer because of the damn walking stick that gets in the way. or maybe its the chairs you’re both on that clash against each other. maybe its matter itself. for a while, its the first time viktor doesn’t want to know.

in a bold statement, he couldn’t give a fuck.

he’s kissing you.

and it should be bad because of all the unanswered questions. he’s skipping procedure. he’s gone from the fuck around to finding out and he doesn’t know where he is at this point.

what he does know, is that your hand pulls him by his necktie, and he’s gone. science? yours only. the science that he’d study all of the nights he may have left. the science behind what makes you. the science behind how your hand craddles his face while stroking his cheekbones. the science behind how you’re the closest you’ve ever been to him and somehow still not close enough. the science behind the reason why when you pull away makes his heart beat so loudly, as if it had forgotten how to a second ago.

your forehead rests against his. he shouldn’t have done that. he just… did it. maybe that was bad. was it? could it be? he had been waiting for so long too. he never thought he would…

“viktor, what are we?”

and he’s dead. he knows what the question implies, but he doesn’t want to answer. he could follow you like a lost puppy through piltover and zaun and hell knows where else. if he wasn’t dead now he would die right there and now without a second thought, because the feeling that overcame him was that love was suddenly a sentence or two away.

he knows he doesn’t dare. it’s one of the only thing he knows, one of the things he’s sure of.

but somehow, he moves. he stands up, takes the walking stick, and attempts to walk out the feeling that bounces inside him.

the walking stick always makes a noise when he walks, one with dificulties to interpret in terms of onomatopeia. not quite a thud, not deep enough to reach that quality. not a clack, for it is not entirely made of metal. still, as if it was a mix of both, he keeps walking.

viktor is nervous. thud-clack. he’s not moving far from his chair, nor is he going somewhere else. thud-clack. he still keeps pacing. thud-clack. maybe the answer is somewhere in the room. thud-clack. maybe he can reply.

thud-clack, thud-clack, thud-clack.

only does he then realize that he hasn’t answered your question. and a non-answer statement might as well be a rejection.

no. no, no, no. fuck.

he’s sitting again, but you stand up. your hair follows, long. moving and brushing against the skin of your shoulders in a way that he can’t help but claim it to be endearing.

you’re walking. you don’t make any kind of extra sound when you walk. your heels reverberate against the floor like any other, yet also they mark the beat of his heart.

he can’t reach for you. you walk too fast.

you stop when you feel the walking stick on your side. the part made for him to lean on as he walks hooks you, and you stand, not facing him.

he doesn’t use the walking stick as he stands. no, he keeps it hooked to your core, scared that you might leave. you could, he wouldn’t blame you. but he can’t allow it.

he holds it in the air as he takes one step. another step. you’re turning, surprised to see him standing, and you gasp when he lets himself fall on you.

your touch surrounds him. yes. that’s the closeness he needed. he drops the walking stick, his hands slithering on your body, pressing you against him, for no reason at all yet because it is all needs.

“what can we be?” he whispers. he takes the science approach. the viktor approach.

he isn’t too clueless after all.

he raises enough to look at your darkened, sleepy eyes. he wants to drown in them.

“if i wanted to kiss you everytime you hand me coffee, wanted you to sit on the same chair as ne and hug me from behind as I work, wanted you.” he swallows dry. “then, what can we be?”

he doesn’t want to say the words, and its petty.

it’s the 31st when the clock strickes five am and your hands travel through his hair to kiss him again. to unbalance him enough that he falls back on his chair and you follow him, sitting on his lap.

and as he kisses you, his hands worshipping the skin he can touch, the warmth he can feel through layers of clothing, he feels like maybe there’s a life worth living, so he can’t ask.

he’s heard boys and girls when he was young talk about it. “he didn’t want to celebrate our month-versary,” a girl cried as he played with his little boat, watching from afar as she was comforted by her friend.

it’s the 31st. and he can’t really ask the question now, because if he says it, how could you celebrate each month?

he moves the chair and holds you in his arms as your back falls against the table before him. maybe he can kiss you until next month. until the clock strikes and it’s the 1st.

he smiles as he kisses you, feeling you pull his necktie off. he thinks it’s the best idea he’s had in a while. and a true scientist always tries out their hypothesis.

~k.k. (☆) have fun!

aaksuitac, november 2024 ©

[saturnrings77]

intoducing sleazy!rafe

note: this was not supposed to be smutty. I got carried away 😭. i need more dialogue... HOW DO I ADD MEORE?!?!? I gave up at the end, im sorry

oh, how you ignored all his red flags just because he had a pretty face and striking blue eyes. you've come to regret it and there's not much you can do about it.

on your first date, rafe shows up half an hour late, in a wrinkled, orange polo shirt, high with a freshly rolled blunt behind his ear. there's remnants of white powder along the edge of his nostril. his hair is greasy, and you wish he had put more effort into his appearance with all the dirty stares you were receiving.

he lazily chuckles at god knows what. his pupils are blown and his eyes are lidded. he has to tilt his head slightly up to be able to see you.

"let's eat?" you're unsure at this point, hesitating to call up one of your friends fo an excuse. your friends warned you about this. did you listen? no. you didn't want to prove them wrong though, always seeing the best in people.

"yeah... yeah"

when you flip you hair over your shoulder he says "i wonder how many times it'll wrap around my wrist." you freeze.

you fight every nerve in your body to refrain from rolling your eyes. gosh, he was so high.

the whole date went by with him making crude remarks directed towards you and the alcohol you guys were getting served was not doing anything to help the situation. you were buzzed and horny.

his gaze kept dropping towards your glossy lips and chest accentuated perfectly by the silk dress you were wearing. with the way he was licking his lips and shifting in his seat, there was no way he was letting you go home without him.

you felt exposed with the way he was eye-fucking you and you felt all the more turned on, your nipples hardening and poking out through the thin fabric.

you, were no better. you mirrored his actions, eyes constantly flicking down towards his lips every time he licked them, suggestively taking food into your mouth and leaning down enough to expose as much flesh of your tips without flashing him your nipples. something about his nasally, rich kid voice had you hanging onto his every word.

"y'look sexy." rafe's licking his lips, undressing you with his eyes. you squirm in your sit at his gaze. "got such a beautiful little thing sitting in front of me."

he's hot, that's for sure. maybe, one night wouldn't hurt.

"wanna go back to mine?"

"mhm" the moment you affirm your answer, he throws a wad of cash on the table, grabs your bag and drags you out the restaurant. he's taking large steps, much to large for your stiletto clad feet. "rafe, slow down." he slows down and looks back at you, before he starts walking towards you and throws you over his shoulder.

you squeal and he gives your ass a firm slap making you yelp. "what a slut. y'ass is basically hanging out." you gasp at the delicious sting on your cheek. "fuck, I don't think I can wait." he hissed as his truck came into view.

unlocking his truck, he pushes you into the back-seat, grateful for his illegally tinted windows. and then his lips are on yours.

he's everywhere, all at once. hands grabbing whatever he can, wherever he can. thighs, cheeks, ass, tits. he's groaning into your mouth, tongue pushing past your lips and fighting with yours.

short, heavy breaths fill the vehicle. your flushed with need. a needy moan leaves your lips as rafe starts undulating his hips into yours. your hands snake to his belt. "I need you." you whisper against his mouth. he just hums and rolls his hips with more insistence into you, chasing his own pleasure. he clasps both your hand between his and puts them above you while his other hand continues groping your tits.

he trails his kisses down to your shoulder, nipping and sucking along the way. a particularly harsh suck has you hissing, knowing it would leave a mark. he bites the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. he does the same to the other side, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down.

your panties are drenched, sticking to you like a second skin. the friction of rafe's tip underneath his jeans, rubbing against your clit has you mewling in pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum" he snaps out of his horny daze and stops moving. he pulls his lips back but attempt to chase after him yet you fail. there's a string of saliva connecting the both of you together.

rafe fumbles with the buckle of his belt and leans over to open the centre console. he pulls out a condom, putting the edge of the wrapper between his teeth and tugging to rip the foil open while pulling himself out his boxers. you pull your own panties off, chucking them at rafe's face.

he rubs his tip along your folds before pushing in all the way. rafe looks at you to find you already staring up at him with doe eyes and your bottom lip between your teeth. a nod from you, and a roll of your hips is all he needs before he starts pumping in and out of you. fast.

it's not long before you hear the squelch of your pussy and the sound of skin slapping. "fuck. y'feel s'good, baby," rafe grunts out. a desperate, whimper escapes from your lips at his praise and you wall flutters around his thick cock. "y'like that, don't you?"

you let out a needy whine. "more." rafe flips the two of you over so that you're straddling him. one hand gripping your hip, the other grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts fucking up into you.

rafe's focus goes down to your tits and the way they jiggle every time he slams his hips into yours. he brings his mouth down and starts sucking on your nipple and you choke on a moan.

he brings one hand down to your clit and starts rubbing, listening to the way you let out an unrestrained sob, the pleasure becoming too much.

"w-wait" you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach and squeeze if your pussy, trying your best to push yourself away.

"y'bout to come, hm?" you nod your head, getting a small, breathless "yes" out. "cum f'me, baby." you feel your body convulse as your orgasm washes over you, however, rafe keeps fucking into you chasing his high, finishing moments later.

[femd-archive]

GOD I’ve been given a taste of sub kenji and am now obsessed 🫠

Thoughts on riding with sub kenji? However you wanna play it, loved your Birthday Boy fic

hello! sorry for answering late (ᵕ—ᴗ—) but yes !! i'm quite surprise that, for a new fandom, kenji has a whole community that wants to see him as a sub ( •̯́ ₃ •̯��) though i can't blame people, he's such a baby ♡♡

also, i'm glad you liked the fic! i thought it was really cranky when i first published it :/ but i'm glad people liked it :D

now, riding sub!kenji or him riding you, i can see him acting all needy and being whiny in either situation ♡

while riding him, he can't help his sounds. moans fall from his lips as he's trying so hard to keep his eyes open to look at the way you bounce on him, those same eyes that wonder on your tits that move over his face. his trembling hands take a hold on your hips, not to control the pace, but to feel your skin on his. he's always eager to feel you close and needs it. he's a bit shy to look into your eyes, but if you ask him to do so with that sweet tone of yours, he'll do it, he'll do whatever you want as long as you praise him and you call him your good boy, but praise him too much and he might start crying ᴖ̈. when he finally cums, he's gripping your hips, thrusting up his own as he emptied himself inside you, whimpering and crying out your name. after his mind gets clear after his orgasm, he smiles sweetly at you, caressing your hips with his thumb. he won't ask for it directly, but he would purse his lips, silently asking for a kiss, and smiling cutely when you tell him how good he did for you. would 100% sleep with him still inside of you ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

he's a lot more shy when he's the one riding you, feeling more exposed now that he's the one straddling your lap while you have a complete view of his body. his hips move slowly, and he's looking at any other point of the room but you, hiding his flushed face behind the back of his hand ♡. your hands travel all over his body, from his back, to his hips and finally his ass, squeezing it a little bit and making a yelp come out his lips. he ends up giving up, throwing himself over you and hugging you like you were one of his pillows, hiding his face away in the hollow of your neck and letting you take control, grabbing his hips and thrusting into him. he moans in your ear loud and clearly, answering in a broken manner everytime you ask if he feels good. kisses are sloppy, since the only thing he can do is moan as you attack his prostate again and again. if you end up fucking him dumb, the only thing that fall from his lips are mumbles of "love you...i love you, i love you, i love you" as he cums undone on your stomach. he stays there, cuddled up to you after a while, and you help him calm down with sweet praises and slow caresses in his back.

i fear i might be making him too occ, but i just wanna spoil him rotten ˙◠˙

[taglist] @vinegarjello

[misdeliria]

FAKE YOU OUT; SUGURU GETO

[08:34 PM]

The world stops when Suguru notices you're lying on the ground. Your body is contorted in a bone-chilling sight, and you don't face him, so he can only assume you're dead.

You're in the same outfit he saw you in last when you were leaving for your class. He thinks he sees blood, which makes him nauseous, but some higher power is compelling him to walk toward you.

Suguru is confident he'll break his trance to throw up if he gets a look at your face. He's kneeling before taking your shoulders and carefully turning you to face him, but your body melts into tar when his fingers find purchase.

The rest of the area around him melts into the same substance, and Suguru feels like an idiot for falling into such an obvious trap.

"Oi, need a hand?" Satoru's irritating chirp arrives at the worst moment, as his giggle is followed by a sinister laugh bouncing off the room wall. "How the hell did you fall into this?" Suguru can hear the smile in Satoru's voice, but his attention is grabbed by the tar, sucking him into the floor like quicksand.

"Satoru, quit messing around and get me out of this," Suguru scolds him, catching movement in the corner of his eyes. Following the shadow, a curse crawled the walls into view.

Satoru pouts, but in a moment, he's in the air with his legs crossed and staring face-to-face with the curse.

Suguru doesn't care to watch Satoru finish the job but sighs in relief when he quickly climbs out of the tar after the exorcism.

"Thank you," he murmurs to his friend, nodding.

"Hey, anytime," Satoru waves off, but the air is tense. It's their first mission after Riko's failed rescue, and Suguru feels the weight of the tension pushing down on his shoulders.

"Let's keep going," he says, turning to continue their route. "We're bound to reach a nest at this point."

-

[03:47 AM]

Suguru feels like an asshole standing outside your apartment in the middle of the night, but his heart is twisting painfully, and it won't rest until he sees you.

"Dude, what the hell?" You're rightfully upset, bumping into the door on the other side before you manage to pull it open.

"I gave you a key," you say lowly, eyeing him on your doorstep.

Suguru is tired too, and he nods in embarrassment.

"I needed you to wake up."

You're silent momentarily before taking his hand and pulling him inside.

"’m sorry,” he hears you murmur, wiping your palm over your face roughly. “Bet you’re tired too.”

You bring him to your quaint living area, shepherding him into sitting on one end of the couch before grabbing a throw blanket and wrapping him up around his legs and middle.

“Did you want to talk about it?” You ask with a clearer voice, more awake, and Suguru is overwhelmed with regret for ruining your night with his intrusion. “Suguru, look at me.”

He blinks a few times and you’re kneeling in front of him, resting your hands on his knees and giving them a soft squeeze.

“We don’t have to talk about it, whatever it is,” you promise him. “We don’t have to talk at all. We can just hang out, or sleep, or- Fuck, I think I have Jenga in the closet?” Suguru can’t stop himself from moving when you adjust your feet to stand. You rise halfway before he brushes his fingers over your knuckles, the space between his brows twitching uncomfortably.

“We don’t- I don’t want to play Jenga,” Suguru answers quickly, eliciting a bright laugh paired with a gentle smile on your lips.

“I won’t bring it out then,” you tell him before a look of concern washes over your face. “How about food? Have you eaten?”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” he says, ringing some truth as his dinner with Satoru was still sitting in his stomach like a rock.

You huff, apparently frustrated with his answer, but lean up to press a hard kiss on his cheekbone.

“Fine, then sleep. I can see your eyebags even in this lighting.”

Suguru frowns when you crawl up the couch and pull the throw blanket back enough for you to squeeze into his side.

“Why aren’t we in your bed?” He lifts his arm as you solidify against his body, nuzzling your face into his chest. Suguru can feel some relief from the weight in his chest as you rest heavier on him.

“So I can be closer to you.”

"I hold you in bed, too, don't I?"

"Yeah, well," she starts to mumble off. "This makes sure you stick with me all night."

Suguru can't help the laugh bubbling from his stomach, spilling out his lips, squeezing you a little closer to him.

After a moment of silence passes over the couple, Suguru decides he's feeling selfish and wants to relieve himself just a little more.

"I thought I saw you today," he whispers, mind flashing to you facing away from him on the ground. When you don't react, anxiety spikes in his chest. In a brief panic, Suguru reaches for your face and gently pulls your cheeks. He needs to see your eyes.

"You know when you do things like that," you mumble tiredly, rubbing circles over his chest, "it doesn't convince me you're okay."

Suguru hums softly, pulling his eyes away from yours and curling into you more. "Sometimes, I'm not."

He feels you nod your head against him, decidedly against addressing it now.

"Don't go far from me, Sugu," you whisper so quietly, but Suguru hears the harmony of your voice like your lips are at his ear. "You deserve to come home."

jujutsu tech | portfolio | muses

fav moot❦: @sarahlovesseb

[itsnexhun]

Rush v.

taglist: @queenmimis, @strawberrymango-l3, @dreams-writings, @ally-to-fic-writers

TW: slight nudity, descriptions of anxiety and abandonment issues, veeery slight NSFW implications

“Seriously? You put up a tent?”

He looks at you as if you are kidding, as if you just told him the most ridiculous tale ever. Maybe your wishful thinking slightly overestimated your situation. You know by now, that he’s recognized your intentions, your childlike curiosity regarding him.

“Why we come here? You think I have time for camping?”

Perhaps you messed up. He doesn’t seem mad, but still visibly annoyed. Were you thinking too much into this? Was this a mistake? 

Were you just digging your own grave by doing this?

His hand went to open the door. Blood rushing to your brain. You panicked. I cannot let him leave, that was the only thought left in your mind. Your body acted on its own, fulfilling your only current wish – even if it meant killing you in process.

You grabbed his arm. He did not turn his face to face you. But you could feel his arm muscles tense up under your grip. He was on high alert. It would have taken him only a millisecond to eliminate you if he had seen you as a threat. You were walking on a thin line.

“Please. Wait! Just this night and after that I’ll drive nonstop till we get to Yorknew. I’ll get you there in time for whatever you need to do! I promise-.” 

“Why?”

His question interrupted your shameless begging. No more words were needed. Just that one word sent your brain spiraling.

Why? Why did you want this?

Was it the innocent and dumb childlike curiosity? Was it your strange attraction to him, the darkness within him? Was it the thrill, the boredom of your mundane life that led you to slowly become attached to the idea of this man?

You truly had no idea.

“Why… I- I don’t know…”

You were confused, stuck in a trance surrounded by your own thoughts. Your hand slowly slipping off his arm, you felt sudden surge of weakness. Head feeling heavy, black dots dancing in your field view. Endless thoughts ceased as the darkness enveloped you whole. Your exhausted body fell in his lap.

The sound of fire cracking fills your ears as you slowly wake up. Struggling to open eyes, you can tell you sobbed slightly, your eyelashes feel glued together. Warmth enveloped your body, you are comfortably laying in the sleeping bag inside the tent. 

It takes you a while to realize how you got here. You passed out in midst of your conversation with Feitan, if it can even be called a conversation. It’s no wonder, you’ve been driving while being under constant stress for days now. It was only a matter of time for you to collapse. 

Judging by the dark outside, you must have slept for quite a while. It takes only a second for you to start to panic. The realization hit you hard, set the blood in your veins ablaze. You felt your heartbeat echo in your ears.

Feitan… Where is he? Did he leave you here?

You stumbled out of the sleeping bag, ran out of the tent. There was no one. Nothing but the fire quietly cracking by your feet, water running in the distance. Trees and dark as far as you could see. No sign of him other than the tent and fire being made. Taking a quick turn, you find your car to be still here. Yet that could mean nothing when it comes to his presence. He was ready to leave you on foot.

“Feitan…?”

Your voice is weak. You are scared.

“Feitan!”

This time you scream into the darkness. But the darkness holds no answer to you. It’s too quiet. It’s all too quiet. You want to cry.

Looking around frantically, you decide to run along the stream of river naively hoping to find him. Crying his name out to the forest as you rushed, looking around at all that was surrounding you. You felt like a lost child. In a sense, you were one. You already lost your way back. While in distress, you lacked any sense of direction.

Tired and out of breath, you fell to your knees. At this point you were bawling your eyes out while struggling to breathe. You were seeing black again. You wanted to scream and cry to the maximum of your lungs’ capacity.

“Boo.”

You scream and tumble forward as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Feeling your heart almost escape your chest, you fall on your back into the small stream. It’s barely to your knees’ length, but enough to submerge your whole body when laying down. The pain echoes in your lower body. You fell on some large stones. The wet clothes stick to your body and weigh you down, you shiver violently.

Looking up above you, you see Feitan snickering at your reaction. He’s missing his top. Pants rolled up to his knees, legs and hands still slightly wet. He’s holding two freshly catched fishes in one hand with his boots tucked under his arm. His other hand is extending to you to help you up.

“I thought you left me,” you say shakily while still sobbing.

“Waited for you to wake up. Sleep too long, went to catch dinner,” he says calmly motioning to show you the fish.

You are not sure if you are seeing things right, but you feel like he does feel a tiny bit bad for scaring you half to death just now.

“Let’s go. No want for you to get sick.”

While saying that last part, he looks away with a small and almost unnoticeable blush on his face. You take his hand as he drags you out of water. The cold air hits you right away, you almost hiss in response. Not getting sick in this state will be hard. His hand in contrary is warm, his body is oozing warmth. You wish you could steal some of his body heath but that would be asking for too much. Though he is the reason you ended up like this in the first place.

You can feel your teeth unwillingly clattering from cold on the way back to your camp. Tightly wrapping your arms around you, the water is still pouring down from you every time you squeeze your clothes. Just simply hearing the sound of firewood cracking lifts your spirits. You squat down to it and get yourself comfortable while still conserving your remaining body heat. 

The fire’s helping but not by a lot. It’s the end of the August, nights are beginning to feel colder and colder as the summer is ending. 

“Take of your clothes.”

His voice disturbs you from your thoughts. You immediately stop shivering from the shock.

“W-what?”

“Your clothes wet. Off.”

You are slowly beginning to understand. You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted.

“Here,” he says as he throws his cloak-like top to your side.

Even though you should remind him that you have a whole suitcase of clothes in your car, you feel like you cannot. This is a pure gesture of his kindness towards you, it was unlike anything he had done for you till now. This didn’t benefit him even a bit, this was simply something he did for only your own benefit. 

You are too cold to tell if you are blushing or not.

“Can you… Maybe turn around,” you say while he is still awkwardly staring at you when you take his clothes into your hands, “please?”

Without words he quickly turns around, goes further away making a distance between the two of you and starts preparing the fish. You feel quite uneasy stripping yourself off clothes in an open area with someone just few meters away from you. The wet clothes are hard to shed, the fabric gets stuck on your naked skin – it’s heavy and hard, burns when you try to force it off. You leave your underwear on even though it’s drenched like the rest of your clothes. After all it feels weird to be completely bare under his clothes in the middle of a forest. Such a bizarre and specific situation. You hope underwear won’t make any wet stains on his clothes – just like clothes with wet swimsuits underneath during summer. 

His clothes are a lot shorter on your body, but it at least covers everything it has to. Though it may look like a shorter dress. It makes you blush. The fabric still holds his warmth. While putting it on, you noticed the seams to be quite messy. Perhaps it was handsewn by him?

“Thank you… It’s okay to turn around now.”

He tensed up, stopped in his actions – he was gutting the fish. Steadily turning around, he tried to hide his slight blush but that small change in his cold behavior didn’t escape you. He stared at you for an awkward while, then got up and put the gutted trouts on fire. You still felt quite cold, you tried hard to hide your shivering to please him. Hugging your knees, you sat by the fire watching the fish sizzle as it burned, trying to warm yourself up. His clothes simply weren’t enough for a cold late August night.

“I’m sorry,” you said weekly, trying to stop yourself from sobbing again.

“What for?”

“I’m sorry for being such a trouble to you. I was just supposed to drive you to Yorknew and now I forced you to go camping with me,” you finished off fully sobbing.

“Ridiculous. I do what I want. If I camping, I want to go camping. Simple.”

You tried hard to hold your sobs, holding the snot in your nose. You hated being consoled like this.

“Now stop crying or I give you real reason to cry,” he said slightly having lost patience over your state. He put the trout off the fire, handing one to you.

“Remember nails? Cry more and I take your tongue,” saying so he flexed his hand, sharp nails coming out like cat claws.

You forcibly smiled and laughed it off disguising your last sobs as laughter. You thought he was joking. But was he really? Only he knew the substantiality of his threats. After all you had no idea who he truly was. 

The fish was bland and a little bit charred, it was only the pure hunger that forced it down your throat. You ate in silence, surrounded only by the sound of fire cracking, water splashing. Yet the atmosphere was light, not tense even a bit. You both felt more comfortable around each other with every second passing. You were sure that if soulmates were real, tied together with a red string, then you two were connected. Tangled in each other, being pulled closer and closer by fate. 

“Go to sleep. Tomorrow you drive, no stops,” he said strictly tossing out the fish bones to the fire. 

Tomorrow might be the last day you get to spend with him. You had a bad feeling that the clock was ticking and you two were to be swiftly separated and returned to each of your lives, different worlds, destined to never cross paths again. No matter how irrational it may have seemed to be sure of something so uncertain such as fate, deep inside you - you knew what was true. 

Without a thought you went to the tent, climbed inside your sleeping bag trying to find rest on the hard stony ground. Then it dawned on you, you still had his clothes. Even though you had a suitcase full off spare clothes you had packed, you were occupying his only bigger piece of clothing, He was still half naked, out in the night and most likely cold. He did not follow you into the tent, there was only one sleeping bag. You felt ashamed to have forgotten that. 

“Hey… Feitan?” you called out to him shyly. 

“Mhm?”

“Are you not cold?”

“A little,” he admits not thinking much of it. He knows, he’s been through worse than a little cold. 

“I can give you your clothes back-.” 

“No,” he interrupts you abruptly, “no want you to get sick.”

You couldn’t believe what you were about to say. 

“I feel a little cold too… So maybe,” you took a deep breath, “maybe you could come over here and lay with me inside the sleeping bag?” 

You practically blurted out the last bit of your sentence. Feeling incredibly embarrassed, you started biting your lower lip nervously. Were you too forward? Was this over the line?

“Seriously?”

“Yes… Please,” you said as your voice was practically trembling, “Feitan…”

His breath hitched the moment he heard you say his name like that. You were begging, you desperately wanted to feel the heat of his skin. To feel that he is real and right next to you, to feel that he isn’t going anywhere tonight. Yes, you were cold, but there was something more way beyond that.

He got up, his movement was slow and ragged like he was trying to control himself - holding back from doing something more to you. Slipping into the tent, his face was firm. Brows deeply furrowed, teeth clenched. You were inviting a beast to lay with you and god help you if he lost control. 

“You trust me? You trust I do nothing to you?” he knelt down to you as he questioned your conviction. Your eyes met, you saw that deep longing, the darkness that entwined it – as deep as a bottomless well. You were not afraid. 

You said nothing in return, you had no idea what to say. Simply moving to the side of the sleeping bag, you created a space for him to fit next to you. Feitan smiled, it was a simple smile – a smile that seemingly meant nothing but also everything at once. He slid into the sleeping bag. It was a tight fit, you were straining just to simply not breach his personal space. The heat radiating off him, the human warmth, felt incredibly alluring to you. So much so, that it pained you to keep your distance. 

Firewood cracking lulled you into sleep. As your consciousness slipped, your body gave up on resisting the magnetism that pulled you two together. You fell into his arms. Feitan did not sleep a bit that night. 

[seffyriath]

okay here is my weird take about what emet-selch might have done regarding zenos and whatever "experiment" was going on

Joke answer: he's a dragon stuffed into a human body

serious answer: it's the same as the joke answer but longer and explained in an incoherent way.

i think we've been given hints about what the fuck was going on with Varis's Large Adult Son even after endwalker, but i need to reference other things to do that, so let's break it down:

-We have been given more insight into how Memories and Souls work and interact in this setting, especially after Dawntrail. We know that it's possible to implant memories onto a soul that didn't originally have them, and it works fine if you have the technology to do this

-Emet-Selch's whole job involved souls and the lifestream

-We've seen Athena also bring back ancients, in a temporary way, by reconstituting soul stuff and grabbing the memories for those ancients, since souls and memories are essentially different kinds of aether. if you've played FFVII at all, you already know this. one would assume that Emet-Selch would manage reconstituting souls a lot better

-there are some memories that are so powerful that they are blasted or etched into your soul, which is why some faded memories can stick around from past lives

-We know that Emet-Selch was seriously thinking of a way to bring the ancients back without rejoinings, and this was probably attempted via his literal large adult sons and their descendants.

-dragon's souls, as far as we know, are unsundered.

-fitting with the Sephiroth and Jenvoa parallel, they are also canonically aliens

about Zenos:

-the devs have said that he was "born wrong" and that's why he's like that. this seems different than "born evil" because Lyse assumes that this wasn't the case, and that's not the normal philosophy for the game. characters have been wrong before, but if he was experimented on, this is likely referencing Sephiroth, who was also born wrong on purpose, as a joke, via tampering in the womb

-people in the world still have vague, ephemeral memories of the ancients, but Zenos is different. Zenos has upsettingly visceral memories of the final days but he also views the world like the ancients do, particularly regarding accomplishing your life's purpose and then dying right after as a positive thing. this is why his actions at the end of stormblood do not read as suicidal to not just me, but the characters. they're really confused about why he does this! Zenos acting the way he does seems to be the answer to why the ancients tried to emphasize a more communal existence, because what happens when the most powerful motherfucker on earth is also a prince in an extremely hierarchical society? you get Zenos

-However, Zenos also follows the rule of beasts and is much more beastlike, similar to dragons. Dragons aren't evil, but they have extremely different cultures and views than humans, because they're functionally immortal and don't need to reproduce. they are power manifest, and can easily take over an ecosystem. Midgardsomr's covenant with Hydaelyn most likely prevents this, but the point is that dragons are pure power, and that's what they respect the most. like Zenos, although being raised as he was probably made this even worse

-Zenos seems pretty dysphoric, but it doesn't seem to be directed at any gender. he's stated that he doesn't care about his name one way or the other, and that he only wants his body back from Elidibus because of how powerful it is. he otherwise doesn't seem to care about normal human experiences, like human food or sex, or just companionship in general with other humans. as far as food goes, he's the only villain to do this, as the writers tend to get into what foods the characters like in the lore books, even the villains. you can't really say that this is just the product of being a royal or someone in power. even Thordan has a favorite food, and even Varis had a childhood friend, who we've actually met.

-both in The Hunt Begins and in general, Zenos actively wants to be able to use and manipulate aether. this is odd, since Garleans are constantly told that magic is evil and bad, but Zenos goes out of his way to try to do this, including piercing himself with a crystal where the aether exchange could kill him. this could be because his great grandfather is a sorcerer of eld. it could be because dragons not being able to use magic would feel extremely unnatural to him. why not both?

-He seems. REALLY excited when he transforms into Shinryu. like, weirdly excited. i get it, it would probably own being a dragon, and you could say that he was just really excited about fighting the wol the first time, but this has happened twice now, and every time he almost sounds like Susano with how excited he is. it's a total fucking mood shift. also in his last fight he still keeps the Shinryu attacks. since it's in a place that's ruled by emotions, one has to assume that he's attached to them

-He literally has a horde (of weapons)? i know we don't see a lot of FFXIV dragons do this, but Vrtra has a horde that he uses as a bank. what's up with that.

-He doesn't really have a coda yet, and while i don't think he's going to be brought back, or that he NEEDS to be brought back, the wol seems like they're just starting to be comfortable with thinking about what Zenos's deal is with enough time and distance

-how d. how did he know that dragons can just lay eggs like that. yeah he could have READ about it but like. how did he figure out how to do that in the fight. and why. why did he just doooo thaaaat.

IN CONCLUSION i think that in a bid to try to bring ancients back into the world through unnatural means, Emet-Selch took the closest recently dead unsundered soul he could find at the time (a dragon's), imprinted some of his memories onto it (as one would do when making the convocation crystals) and put that shit in a baby. thanks.

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 5

Eddie had been having a greatest time eating in his apartment that anyone could have. Because he wasn't alone. He was with Steve. And then he got to share one of his childhood favorite movies with him. Even though it was a first date, Eddie got the feel that casual was okay. So he'd started the video call with a red t-shirt and black jeans. He knew the odds of Steve seeing his bottom half but he wanted to look nice all the way anyway.

When Steve answered the call and Eddie saw him fill the screen with a very respectable "first date" shirt, he imagined the bottoms were probably a good pair of jeans or maybe even khakis. Steve looked like a khaki guy. What Eddie did not expect was to be flashed when Steve got up in the middle of the movie to get a drink.

But he got up, giving Eddie an eyeful of a bulge in navy blue lace. And then Steve turned and Eddie got to see it from the back. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he had actually seen that. It had to be an illusi-and he was coming back and those were definitely panties that Steve was wearing.

"....Eddie?" Steve looked at his wide eyes. The man hadn't spoken for a full minute.

"Baby...are you wearing something naughty?"

Steve bit his lip. "I wasn't trying to be naughty. Robin just thought that I could...well, use the confidence?"

"Don't tell me a pretty thing like you is insecure, I won't believe it", Eddie smiled.

"Well those were Robin's thoughts, not mine." Steve turned the movie down a bit and it was clear Eddie and lowered the volume on his end too. "Do you like them?"

"My brain went to moon. I think you're trying to kill me."

Steve's already high confidence jumped to the ceiling. It was nice to be appreciated.

"Can I see them again?", Eddie asked.

"I thought they were fatal?", Steve smirked.

"You know, I've decided I've lived long enough. And if I have my choice of how I go, I choose death by Steve."

"Okay, but if I have a choice, I'm keeping you alive. But if you insiiiist." Steve had returned to his seat on the floor when he got back from the kitchen, and now he rose up to sit on the couch. His legs were crossed, blocking Eddie's view.

The man on his phone whined. "Don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but what if I like begging?"

"Please, please baby, pretty please, lemme see you?" Eddie's hands were pressed together in prayer.

The way he was positioned (in the phone, on the coffee table) it was like he was kneeling before Steve. Slowly, he uncrossed his legs and even spread them a little, smiling when he heard Eddie's intake of breath.

"Shit...Were you planning on showing me this tonight?"

"If you were good...maybe", Steve teased. "What do you think? Have you been a good boy?"

Eddie nodded frantically, hair flopping, jaw dropped as Steve shifted and he got to watch the bulge between his legs move. He would do anything. Beg, kneel, bark, whatever Steve wanted him to do. Fuck, if he was really there, his head would already be in between his legs.

"I bet you could crack my skull with those legs, Jesus."

From his vantage point, Eddie could only make out up to the bottom of his mouth and while he liked his current view, that just wouldn't do at all.

"I've got an idea...What do you say to moving this to the bedroom?"

Steve grabbed his phone and started walking. Eddie straight up sprinted and collapsed onto his bed.

"You're not going to have anyone burst in with a 'code red', are they?", Steve asked as he got onto his own bed, laying down and holding his phone to his face.

"I have blocked out the entire night for you, Stevie. My crew knows that all Code Reds are to be handled by my second in command."

Okay, that made him feel a little special. Steve bit his lip. "I've never really done anything like this before..."

"What? Taking a date to your bedroom? Once again, I won't believe it. You're probably beating them back with a stick." Eddie was literally looking at him. There was no way he didn't have a line of admirers going down the street.

"I meant on like...video. So how do you want me?"

"Well I typically get a burger with my shakes", Eddie waggled his brows.

"Eddie", Steve laughed.

"Wait, I can do better! Can I get a split-top bun, since you've got a whole bakery in the back?" Eddie beamed as the screen shook while Steve was laughing. "Just get comfortable, baby."

Steve did just that, lying on his back, holding his phone above his head. Eddie was in a similar position in his own bed.

"Okay, I think I've done the whole 'teacher is secretly a model' bit before but Christ alive, it's like you've got no bad angles."

"Eddie, I think you're stalling", Steve grinned. At first, he had been nervous about doing this over video, but now it seemed like Eddie was the one who was anxious.

"If I stall by complimenting you, is it really stalling?"

"If you were here...what would you do to me?", Steve asked.

"I would kiss you so hard, you'd pass out", Eddie admitted. "Full on Pepe LePew treatment. I'd start on your hand and make my way up and then I'm not letting those lips go until they're raw."

Steve brushed his fingers against his mouth. It had been a while since he'd been kissed like that, but Eddie wasn't done.

"And don't think I haven't noticed how those moles go all the way down. I think if I get started kissing them now, I can be to your thighs by Christmas."

Steve didn't miss the strong implication of Eddie's physical presence. They hadn't really talked about meeting in real life yet, both of them aware of how risky it could be to meet someone like that. But as time went on, the dangers seemed to melt away.

Steve's hand trailed down his body. He made sure to angle his phone so that Eddie could see just that. "God, I've thought about your hands so much..." His hand came back up to touch his lips.

"I can tell you want to, baby. Go ahead and suck on them. Pretend they're mine."

Permission granted, Steve stuck two in his mouth. Enraptured, Eddie started to paw at himself through his jeans. Steve's mouth was so pretty and it was already so wet. It didn't hurt that he was already moaning. God, he needed to find out where Steve lived and buy himself a plane ticket. He needed to get his hands on him yesterday.

"Mmm, and you know, once my fingers are nice and wet, I like to put them elsewhere. Where do you want me to touch?"

Slowly, Steve pulled them out of his mouth. "Everywhere", he said, lightly panting.

Eddie's canines showed as he smiled. He unzipped his pants, purposely making it as loud as he could so that Steve would know. "I'd like that too. But let's narrow it down, beautiful."

"How's about I show you?"

Eddie's eyes got wide as Steve changed positions and even moved some pillows around and now he had a front row seat to the most prime ass he'd ever seen. Steve was on his knees and bent over slowly. He pulled his panties to the side with one hand and pushed one of his glistening fingers inside.

"Aaahh, Eddie", he moaned, bringing the other man back into it.

"Fucking hell, look at you." Eddie used one hand to pushed the band of his boxers down and bring out his cock.

Steve pushed another into him, pressing his forehead against the bed. He didn't know what he'd been so anxious about. He wanted nothing more than to have Eddie looking at him. Eddie getting hard and jerking off while looking at him.

"Eddie...I need, I need you..."

Eddie spit in his hand and kept stroking. "Tell me, angel. What do you need me to do?"

Steve whined and Eddie watched as his ass shook, fingers sinking in deep before pulling them out and pushing in again. He bet anything if Steve turned around, he'd see a wet spot on those panties.

"Don't worry, Stevie, I'm gonna tell you what to do. Is that okay?"

He saw Steve's head shake in what could've been a nod, but he was glad when he got the vocal confirmation. Eddie directed Steve and soon he had turned (Eddie had been right about the wet spot) so now he was facing the camera. The ass shot was hot but Eddie wanted to see his face when he came. He now also had a pillow under his hips to help with the angle.

And damn if he wasn't an absolute vision, rutting against the pillow, lips parted in a perpetual moan. Eddie had gotten some lube for his hand, but he knew his fist paled in comparison to Steve Harrington.

"Shit, I needa have you Steve. Wanna feel you, make you mine."

"I'm already yours", Steve said, making Eddie whimper. "I'm all yours, Eds, no one else's."

Apparently he was in a really possessive mood because that just put him right over the edge. This beautiful man was pleasuring himself and he only had eyes for Eddie. He made sure his cumshot was in the frame and watched as Steve's eyes glazed over. His licked his lips and bucked into his pillow, Eddie's name leaving his mouth on a sigh.

Eddie swallowed, his throat a little dry. "Can I see?"

Steve didn't need to ask what he meant. He picked up his phone and rose up on his knees, showing Eddie the tip of his cock peeking out of his panties, cum cooling on his stomach as his shirt had ridden up.

"Mmm, fuck. What's that rule in your classroom? About not wasting good food?"

"If you were here, I'd let you lick it all up", Steve said.

"Yeah, about that...can we...?"

"Talk? How do you feel about morning afters?", Steve asked.

"Usually they're pretty awkward", Eddie admitted with a shrug. "But considering I don't need to worry about you kicking me out..."

"Are you free for breakfast?"

"You mean brunch?"

Steve smiled. "It's a date then. Good night, Eddie."

"Good night, my darling."

Part 7

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

[scremogirl]

✩𖤐☆𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄…

Plug! Ony who only really likes getting high if it’s with you. Sure, he’ll have a sesh with his homeboys; but it’s nothing compared to sitting in his lavsious car, his pretty little client next to him. Maybe client is an understatement; crush seems more fitting, no? I mean, he always lets you take the first hit. Wanting to feel the reminmets of your gloss, loving the feeling of giving you an indirect kiss. Can always tell when you get a new flavor, the peach-cherry blossom one is his favorite. Wonders if you’d let him kiss it all off. Or how it’d be smudged all of your face and lips, mixed with his cum as most of it is in the shape of kiss marks on his big dick.

Plug! Ony who spoils you with all the weed and money you want. Whatever you need he got it. From money for your hair to rent or grocery money. At this point he’s starting to view this relationship as more of a sugar daddy/sugar baby type thing. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want you just coming to him when you need something. He wants you as his 4life.

Plug! Ony who spots another guy trynna get up on you at Jeans party. Plug! Ony who sees its making you uncomfortable and won’t just stand by and watch. Plug! Ony who comes up to you grabbing a palm full of as and kissing you deep; slipping his tounge in your mouth. He pulls away and looks the guy in his eyes. “You need sum from my girl?” Plug! Ony who watches the guy scamper away and then shifting his gaze to you, only to find you're already lookin at him with a mix of thankfulness and lust.

︎ ⚠︎︎

Plug! Ony who fucks you in the backseat of the same car he uses for your smoke sesh. “O-oh my godddd Pa. You fuckin my shit uppp,” he chuckles and continues to bounce you up and down on his cock. “I know, ma. Shit feel good huh?” You nod and let out a spew of yes’s. “Oh baby, im-im finna cumm, oh fuck,” he smacks your ass and bucks his hips faster. “Cum for me mama, cover my shit,”

Plug! Ony who cleans you up and drives you to his house. You both get in the shower *he had a spare shower cap, thank god* and when you dry off he lays you down in bed. You climb back on top of him trying to get him going again but he stops you. “Hol up baby. Before I we get to goin I wanna ask you sum,” you don’t talk expectedly waiting for him to get whatever he needs of his chest. “This whole friends with benefits- plug/client relashionship we got goin on, we deadin that shit right na,” your eyes go wide. All this time you thought he didn’t want anything serious. Maybe the shopping sprees, 12am smoke sessions, and him dicking you down the way he does should’ve told you otherwise. “I want be your man and I want you to be my girl. I ain’t take no for an answer by the way,” you just smile and muzzle your face into his neck. Sex can wait; right now, you just wanna cuddle up with your man.

I didn’t proof read/edit anything; I just wanted to have the third post out B4 Fri. Imma be hella bust next week so I might not post anything at all and I have no works in the drafts. I’ll see what I can push out.

-Love, Sos❤️

[svnluns]

The bass from the club pounds through the thin walls, rattling the window above my bed. I should be asleep—I’ve got class in the morning and an unfinished assignment mocking me from my desk. Instead, I’m staring at my phone, the group chat lighting up with plans I wasn’t invited to. Again.

It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling when my phone buzzes. A text.

Niccolò:

“What are you doing?”

I frown, rereading it twice. We’re not exactly friends. We’ve been in the same circles for years, crossing paths at parties or school events. Niccolò always has this air of confidence, like he owns the world and knows he can do whatever he wants. He’s infuriating, really. The type of guy who gets away with everything because he’s too charming not to.

I should ignore him. But I don’t.

Me:

“Nothing. Why?”

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes again.

Niccolò:

“Come out.”

I sit up, confused. Is he joking? It’s nearly midnight, and the last thing I need is to deal with his arrogance right now.

Me:

“No.”

It takes him less than a minute to reply.

Niccolò:

“Don’t be boring. I’m outside.”

I freeze. No way. He can’t actually be serious, right? But curiosity gets the better of me, and I crawl out of bed, pulling aside the curtain just enough to peek out.

There he is, leaning casually against his car, looking like he stepped out of a magazine. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, his hair just the right kind of messy. Typical Niccolò. He sees me looking and flashes that signature smirk, raising his eyebrows like, What are you waiting for?

I grab a hoodie and head downstairs before I can talk myself out of it.

When I step outside, the cool night air hits me, and Niccolò’s grin widens.

“Thought you’d never come,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

“I didn’t say yes,” I shoot back, crossing my arms.

He shrugs, unfazed. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he nods toward the passenger seat of his car. “Get in.”

I hesitate. “Why?”

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” he says with a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Just trust me. I’m bored, you’re bored—let’s do something about it.”

I know I should say no. Niccolò is trouble, the kind of trouble you see coming a mile away but can’t seem to avoid. But there’s something in the way he looks at me, a mix of mischief and curiosity, like he’s daring me to step into his world.

Against my better judgment, I get in the car.

We end up driving out of the city, the lights of Rome fading in the rearview mirror. Niccolò doesn’t tell me where we’re going, and I don’t ask. The windows are down, the wind whipping through my hair as he weaves effortlessly through the narrow roads.

“Do you always kidnap people in the middle of the night?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed.

He laughs, a rich, unbothered sound. “Only the interesting ones.”

I roll my eyes, but he catches the hint of a smile I’m trying to hide.

Eventually, we pull up to an overlook, the city stretching out below us like a sea of golden lights. It’s breathtaking, and for a moment, I forget why I was so annoyed with him in the first place.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, leaning against the hood of the car.

I join him, keeping a careful distance. “So, what’s the deal? You just wanted to show me the view?”

He lights a cigarette, taking a slow drag before answering. “Not everything has to be a deal, you know.”

“With you? It usually is,” I counter.

His lips twitch, amused. “Fair enough.” He exhales, the smoke curling into the night air. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d say.”

“To what?”

“To me.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he points out, smirking.

I don’t have a response for that, so I stay quiet, staring out at the city. For all his arrogance, there’s something almost peaceful about being here with him.

“Why me?” I ask after a while, my voice softer.

He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Maybe I don’t have one,” he admits, surprising me. “Maybe I just think you’re different.”

“Different how?”

He flicks his cigarette into the gravel, his eyes meeting mine. For once, there’s no smirk, no teasing. Just honesty.

“You don’t try to impress anyone. It’s annoying as hell, but… I like it.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Niccolò isn’t the type to hand out compliments, let alone ones that feel genuine.

“Well,” I say finally, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re still annoying.”

His smirk returns. “Good. I’d hate to lose my charm.”

We sit there for a while, the silence stretching between us in a way that feels comfortable, not awkward. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the weight of everything pressing down on me.

Maybe Niccolò is trouble, but for now, I don’t mind getting lost in it.

[ventismacchiato]

24 behind the lens — how to get akumatized 101 !

scaramouche x g!n reader

notes; translations for the french will be at the bottom of this chapter!

That morning felt surreal. Almost like you were walking through a hazed dream. You awoke to the feeling of calloused hands on your skin, your shirt scrunched up and Kuni’s head tucked in the space between your neck and shoulder. He looked peaceful when he was asleep. The crease above his eyebrows was relaxed and his lips were parted open every so slightly. He looked so inviting.

You awkwardly scooted yourself out of his grasp and got yourself ready while he was asleep. By the time you were done, his head was still under the pillow. You took a quick photo before gently shaking him awake. He grumbled before sitting upwards, his hair sticking up every way as he carded his hand through it.

It was a little too domestic for a pair of people who weren’t even dating yet.

He patted your waist on his way to the bathroom, his hand pinching the skin underneath the hem of your shirt.

It all felt a little too good to be true.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Why did we have to walk here?” you question, your legs sore as you and Kuni make your way toward the Eiffel Tower.

“Want me to carry your lazy ass?” Kuni asks, earnestly, as you both finally arrive. There’s quite a crowd for it being so early in the evening, causing Kuni to pull up his mask as he grabs ahold of your back to direct you towards the elevator. You let him guide you as he kept you close to him.

He’d told you to dress nicely for lunch, which was why you were now blessed with a view of Kuni clad in a dress shirt as he stared out the lift.

It was all a little too much for you two to not even be official.

You squirm around in your seat, not used to getting spoiled quite like this. It’s true, being a popular streamer made you rather comfortable with money, but you never went out of your way to treat yourself quite like this. You never really had to when Xiao insisted on paying for everything when your group went out.

“Is this too much?” Kuni asks, sliding over a glass of water towards you.

“No, I’m just not used to it,” you answer, taking the glass from him. Even the dishes were fancy.

“You should start getting used to it then,” Kuni calmly says as you almost choke on your water.

A waiter decides to appear right then, sending you a worried look as you waved him off to assure him you weren't dying.

“Bonjour, qu’est ce que vous désiréz commander?” the waiter asked, his accent causing you to only understand the first half of his sentence. You really should’ve paid more attention to your French lessons.

Kuni pulls his mask down, eyeing the menu for a quick minute. You couldn’t help but notice the hue or pink dusting across the waiter’s face as he saw Kuni’s face. Your stomach felt a little sick at the sight

“Bonjour, on prendra le plat du jour,” Kuni answers, his usual voice tilted with a slight accent.

The waiter notes it down and turns away to walk off before looking back.

“Désolé, est-ce que je peux avoir ton numéro de téléphone?” He questions, his ears a bright red.

Kuni gestures at you in response, “Désolé, j'ai déjà quelqu'un.”

The waiter quickly nods and scurries off. You feel a bit proud of that, whatever it was.

“Hope you don’t mind I ordered for you, you mentioned you liked this dish before,” Kuni says, pointing to the menu.

“It’s cool,” you answer, “I didn’t know you knew French.”

“My mom forced me to learn,” Kuni hums.

“That means you can seduce in French, right?” you joke.

“I suppose I can if you’re into it,” Kuni easily says, “Weird ass.”

“Say something sexy to me then,” you propose, leaning forward.

Kuni’s pale cheeks flush underneath your gaze, but he still abides by your request. He reaches across the table to grab ahold of your hand, caressing your knuckles with his thumb.

“Tu es magnifique sous le ciel étoilé,” he muses.

“What’s that mean? It sounded hot.”

“J'aimerais être assez courageux pour pouvoir t'embrasser,” he says instead, a smirk tilting up on his lips.

“You’re so mean,” you huff, ignoring how his hands felt on yours.

He kept it there until your guys’ meal arrived, only letting go when you both had to eat.

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

jungkook as scara

i forgot to give childe’s comments likes mb

translations:

(1) paris est magnifique quand je suis avec toi = paris is beautiful when I'm with you

(2) bonjour, qu’est ce que vous désiréz commander? = hi, what would you like to order?

(3) bonjour, on prendra le plat du jour = hello, we will take the dish of the day

(4) désolé, est-ce que je peux avoir ton numéro de téléphone? = sorry, can i have your phone number?

(5) désolé, j'ai déjà quelqu'un = sorry, i’m taken

(6) tu es magnifique sous le ciel étoilé = you look beautiful under the starry sky

(7) j'aimerais être assez courageux pour pouvoir t'embrasser = i wish i had the bravery to kiss you

author’s notes — thank you to ori and xiydia for helping me translate the french!! mwah mwah merci 💋

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @heehooyeslol @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @goubaia @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[blossom-works]

Mommy and Daddy Bear

"Chris! Claire!" Leon calls out to his friends. They are locked inside two Alcatraz jail cells. The Redfield siblings are pale, gritting their teeth from whatever is hurting them. The DSO agent tries to force the cells open, but they are locked shut.

"Look behind you, Leon." Claires points. Her arm is shaking, but she is determined to make her friend look behind him. Following her finger, Leon spots someone else in the cell behind him. The entire room is dark, so he turns on his flashlight.

"Babe!" Leon drops his flashlight and crawls to your cell. Like the Redflields, you are gritting your teeth in pain. Your skin is pale too. Leon reaches inside the cell to cup your cheek. Through his gloves, Leon can feel your rising temperature.

"What are you doing here? What happened? Where are the kids?"

Drowsy, you try your best to answer him. "They...They're with Helena. Some woman tried to ambush us but I managed to hold her off." Your wheezing worries Leon even more. There are two times Leon has seen you in a similar state. Both were when you gave birth to his children.

"Help! Get us out of here!"

Leon turns around and in Claire's cell is Leon's target.

"Antonia Taylor...I'll deal with your ass later." Screw his mission. His wife is more important than bringing in some rouge scientist. He needs to get his wife home to their kids.

Leon rubs your warm cheek as an act of comfort. "I'm gonna get you out of here, sweetheart. Don't worry."

Suddenly, the lights flicker on. Jill and Leon pull out their guns and point them in opposite directions. The man in charge, Dylan Blake, introduces himself and his insane plan to the entire group. One of his bio-drones stings Leon in the back of his neck, weakening the man. From your line of view, you see the same woman who tried to take your children jump down from the floor above.

"You bitch." You groan out. You wish you had your gun on you so you could shoot the woman between her eyes. The woman disarms your weakened husband and kicks him to your cell. Reaching your hand out, you squeeze Leon's shoulder.

"I get it now. The attack. The virus. You got them from Arias. That's why she's here." Leon wheezes out. The virus is coursing through his veins, slowly shutting his body down.

"Leon," You exhale. "That's her. That the bitch that tried to take the kids."

Dylan's voice echoes the large, empty room. "You killed poor Maria's father. It was only fair for her to take away your family, Leon. Unfortunately, we underestimated your wife's condition. Even at three months post-partum, she was able to put up a fight. Left a bruise or two on Maria. I've got to say my friend, you have yourself quite a catch."

"Screw you, you bastard!"

"My kids and wife are innocent! You had no right to go after them!"

Dylan goes on a tangent about how everything the BOW fighters have fought for was a lie. They are nothing but pawns for powerful people to use. Dylan nit-picks at each of them, even you.

"And poor Mrs. Kennedy...I feel bad for you the most. You married a man who is tied down to his endless, grueling job. He even got your family mixed into his mess. What kind of a man does that to his family?"

You defend your husband through your gritted teeth. "Leon didn't do shit to our family. You're the one who endangered our family, asshole! My husband does everything he can to protect us so kindly fuck off!"

Leon has always questioned his ability to protect his family. He is constantly gone throughout the year and for an unknown amount of time. Your husband tries his best to be there for his kids and for you, but work gets in the way. He even worries about being present in their early lives. Leon does not want to miss out on their important firsts. He never wants to end up as the dad who misses out on his kids' school events, games, and recitals. Dylan is good at hitting a man in his Achilles heel.

Maria grabs onto Jill's hand, making her drop her gun from the pressure she applies. To protect their only chance at survival, Leon pulls out a flash grenade and tosses it in the middle of the hallway. When the flash clears, Maria steps onto Leon's chest. The more pressure she uses, the more her heeled boots dig into his skin.

"Leave them, Maria. They're all about to turn anyway."

Reluctantly, the woman obeys. She haughtily looks down at you who is glaring at her. Cursing the woman for going after your family. Silently proclaiming your revenge.

All week and terrified, Leon does his best to distract you from the pain. "How are the kids?"

"They should be fine. Helena was with me when Maria decided to drop by. She took the kids while I stalled Maria." You grip your side in pain. "Man that bitch packs a mean kick."

"She," Leon groans. "She knew where we lived?" You nod. It astonishes you too. Everything about your family is classified thanks to DSO's protocol. Information about their agents and their families is pretty much untouchable with the exception of a few.

Being the angel she is, Rebecca shows up with her vaccines. "Thank goodness I made an extra." She tries to give Leon the vaccine first, but he rejects it. No way is he going to get better while his wife is still sick. When everyone is vaccinated, you all know the battle is almost over.

Picking up Jill's gun, you turn around to face your husband. "Let's go get that bitch."

---

The fight between you, Leon, and Maria is an exhausting one. It takes the two of you a while before your full strength is back. Something must have been injected into Maria because she is what you describe as a "super soldier". Maria is a good fighter, but she fucked with your family. She broke into your home. She tried to go after your precious kids and use them as leverage. The woman fucked with the wrong set of parents. And she put her nasty ass foot on your husband's face! So not cool!

When Leon regains his strength, he double-kicks Maria. His last kick is about to send Maria to her death, but you want to be the one to do it. You take the disheveled Maria and shove her from behind with your foot while bending her body down to a certain level of height. The metal rod sticking out, pierces through Maria's head, killing her instantly. You and Leon have peace of mind knowing that the woman after your family is dead.

Leon drags you away from Maria's body and brings you into his chest. Your hug only lasts a couple of seconds because the control room starts to shake.

"We are so going on vacation after this." You say.

Leon laughs and nods his head in agreement. You guys are definitely booking a trip when you get home. He hopes that Eri will not remember whatever happened in your home. Levi is only a few months old but his sister is two. Leon does not want Maria to be one of Eri's earliest memories. Leon can only hope that your maternal instincts protected Eri from early childhood trauma.

---

The fight on Alcatraz Island is over. The six of you sit outside as you wait for backup to arrive.

"Well...I know what I'm taking away from this."

"What's that?" Rebecca asks.

"Prison tours suck." Leon's dorky remark makes everyone laugh. You lightly shove him to the side before he swings his arm around your shoulder. "So, where we goin' for vacation, love?"

"You were serious about that?" Chris asks. Leon announced that he and his family were going on vacation after this mission, but the BSAA operative thought Leon just said that in the heat of the moment.

You hum. "France? I've always wanted to see the Palace of Versailles and I'm sure Eri would love to go to the Disneyland there."

Claire raises her hand like a kid. "OOO! I wanna go too!" As much as she travels because of one thing or another, it is never where she wants to go and do what she wants to do (besides survive of course).

"France sounds good. Jill? Rebecca?"

Jill shrugs her shoulders and Rebecca says that she could use a vacation after this week.

"Wait a damn minute, It's a family vacation. Kennedy only." You slap your husband's arm for being rude to your friends.

"C'mon babe, these guys are practically family. Besides, free babysitters."

Hearing "free babysitters" immediately changes Leon's mind. He loves his children, but having the chance to have their mother to himself is just too good to pass up. Eri is an easy kid to watch, she just needs to work on her potty-training skills. Levi is formula fed so he does not need to be on your boobs every two or three hours. This means that mommy and daddy can have some uninterrupted "mommy and daddy" time.

"Alright, fine but you guys are paying for yourselves."

---

Story inspired by "Family Matters" by @not-another-leon-blog

[kissforyouu]

Can you write a drabble of Oc being mad at him because some old fling sent him a pic through his DM’s and she saw, even though he never responds to the girl she still got mad

your eyes go completely wide, your expression just— shocked. wait, no, no! jumpscared is the right word. you grit your teeth while staring down at your boyfriend's phone displaying the nude photo of some other woman. and you couldn't help but think that if this was proof of jungkook cheating on you, you would've gone crazy on spot. but fortunately, it's not.

still though, due to your own suspicions you scroll up the chat only to be met with messages exchanged about 5 months before you two's relationship started. thank fuck, he is not cheating. you just almost had a heart attack.

still, you were mad though. the audacity for this bitch to send nudes to a man who's clearly in a relationship. it's not like jungkook doesn't post you, he posts you on all his socials, there's no way she wouldn't know. shame on her, she's just embarrassing herself.

but that's not even what made you mad, though. it's the fact that jungkook had already viewed it. he's already seen the picture and had left it on seen. despite being glad that he didn't reply or anything, you still couldn't help but feel jealous over the woman. you had everything she didn't - jungkook. he has just left her on seen, hasn't even bothered to block her!

you huff, blocking her yourself. fucking hell. great, now your entire mood's ruined.

"my phone's with you?" here he comes.

you don't say anything bad, clearly upset with him.

"i was looking for it. what'd you do with it?"

why? is he scared i'll find all his hoes?

you sit in silence. there was a big fat frown evident on your face, the face you often make when you're angry.

"y/n?" jungkook stands in front of you, raising his eyebrows wondering what the hell he did wrong again. he doesn't say anything but reaches forward to grab his phone from the grasp of your hand.

the moment he does that, you get up, storming out of his living room and into his bedroom. uh oh, you're stomping on the floor. —eek, here it comes ; jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek once he heard the door shut with a very loud thud. at this point, he was used to your attitude. but he just couldn't figure out why exactly you were mad at him.

—oh, nevermind. the man sighs, running his fingers down his face while he took a short glance at the explicit image sent to him by one of his old flings about a week ago. he didn't know you'd go through his instagram. coming to think of it, your attitude is justifiable. its his fault too, noh? he didn't block or anything. i mean, not his fault he doesn't even remember the girl's name.

but he noticed that you had already blocked her. he takes another deep sigh, eyes staring at his door, now closed. he had to console you somehow.

"baby?" your boyfriend knocks on the door thrice, and when you don't answer him, he decides he's gonna break in. it's his room anyway.

he walks in to be met with the sight of his pretty little (angry) girlfriend sitting on his bed, staring into the nothing of the nothingness. you looked cute, he thought. but now's not the time to pull jokes. (i think)

"my love." jungkook walks closer to you and bends down to meet your eyelevel on the bed. but you look away, avoiding his eye contact. he giggles, accepting the challenge and moving his face in front of wherever you're looking at. three or four of these and you're sick of him already, breaking into a whine as you slapped his shoulder.

"who the fuck is gianna and why's she not blocked?!" how come you remember the girl's name and not him when he was the one who talked to the girl for like, uh, uhhh, like, a few months or weeks, jungkook thinks.

"baby, she sent me that shit recently. i haven't talked to her ever since we both started dating, you know that very well. whatever you think happened, did not happen." he looks at you, waiting for a response.

he did say the truth though. you should—

"you're overreacting." nevermind. "overreacting" is crazy.

"i am NOT overreacting." you break your silence, "what would you feel if you saw the nudes of one of my exes on my phone, huh, jungkook?! bet you'd fucking LOVE that."

jungkook remains silent for a few seconds while you gave him the "told you so" look.

"don't fucking talk to me—"

jungkook flicks your forehead, forcefully pulling your upper body towards him so that your face would be pressed against his stomach. you let out muffled screams, completely annoyed.

"come on, i'm sorry, babyyy. we're fine, okay? i will immediately block and even report if this happens again. y/n—"

"eeek! i said don't talk! now—let me. go!" he had you on a headlock so it was harder for you to get out of his grip. you kept wiggling around like a worm, but in the end, you just give up, accepting defeat.

"i'm sorrryyy, my princess. you want my instagram pass? i'll give you. you know i love you only. i'm sorry i made you feel that way." he cups your cheeks, planting a sweet double kiss on your forehead.

but you just glare at him.

[notelcol]

A rivals desire 🌹

Non gender specific rival/lover✨

A little story inspired by the Wanderers ‘about us: rivals’ voiceline. In this story, reader is studying in Vahamuna with the Wanderer and is his only true academic rival. You and he are the only ones able to really challenge each others work. It will, of course, be set in Sumeru post it’s archon quest.

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫶

——-

“So, you're still stewing over our run-ins from before? Huh. Well, what are you going to do about it? Take your time. I'm in no hurry.” The Wanderer scowled at you, referring to the time you helped thwart his plans to become a god.

“For the last time. No!” Your voice became faster and louder as you continued. “Unlike you, I can let things go!” You glared at him.

“If you aren’t out for revenge, then why would you rebuke my paper?!” He leaned closer as he waved your latest paper around. “Why else would you make a point of disputing every paper I submit?” His voice became quiet, full of venom with a touch of vulnerability.

“I rebuked your paper because it was short sighted. Same as all the others.” You told him. “Your takes on history and society are factually correct and full of potential, yes. But, you always fail to see the true story.” You say, slightly distracted by how close you stood to him. “You miss out the heart of everything by only focusing on the tangible parts. True insight comes from mixing the facts with the feelings that follow in their wake.” You explained, eyes flicking to the ground as you finished talking and realised how long you’d been maintaining eye contact.

When he didn’t reply, you returned his gaze again. He seemed to be lost in his mind, you could almost see the churning of waves behind his blue eyes.

“So you’re telling me, that to reach academic greatness I must tap into my emotions to find the heart of things?” He asked incredulously before scoffing. “You realise I don’t have a heart right?” He folded his arms and raised a brow as he spoke. His words made you chuckle.

“The heart just pumps blood around a body. The brain is where all thoughts and feelings lie….surely you have one of those don’t you?” You smirked.

“Yes. Very funny.” He deadpanned. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, if we’re done here?” You gestured to the path you were on your way down before he interrupted your journey.

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you began to turn away. “If you think you know so much, then show me. Show me how to achieve ‘true insight’.”

You deliberated his request for no where near long enough, given the task it would be to get this man to view society in a sympathetic way.

“Fine. Lesson one. Tell me one emotion you are familiar with feeling.” You looked expectantly, assuming he would give you an immediate answer. After mulling it over he opened his mouth..and then closed it again, before finally speaking.

“Desire.”

“Good! That’s good, you can tap into that. Think of something you want and go after it. Study that feeling. Then when you succeed, focus on how you feel when you get whatever it is you want and it will lead you to another emotion to study.“

“This is ridiculous. Talking about feelings to better writing, how warped.” He grumbled.

“You sound like Azar.” You shook your head at him, remembering the former grand sage.

“Don’t compare me to that old fool!” Offence tainted the Wanderer’s words. “I am nothing like that failure. I am better.” His breath fanned your face as he argued with you.

“Then stop acting like him and prove it! I wouldn’t ‘make a point’ of challenging you all the time if I didn’t believe you could be brilliant.” You exclaimed. His eyes darted around your face as he seemed to freeze. You watched him wade through his mind, slowly you could see his soul becoming clearer in the distance. You had lost yourself in his eyes and possibly would have stayed that way for eternity if he hadn’t grabbed your cheeks, shocking you back to reality. He almost looked as confused as you, before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened as the space between you closed, but when his fingers started stroking your cheek as he kissed you, you couldn’t help but melt. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and you let yourself fall into the kiss. You swore you could feel him smile right before he pulled away.

“Peace.” He spoke as he rested his forehead on yours. “The fruition of my desire leads to peace.”

——-

Thank you for reading 🌹

[dyeher]

Warnings: single dad! baji, preschool teacher! reader.

Notes: this one right here could be- I mean- maybe…unedited read at your own risk.

Keisuke is panicking.

He keeps glancing in his rear view mirror at his little girl who’s happily humming along to whatever is playing from her iPad.

She doesn’t seem to share the same bone chilling fear as him. His grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that his knuckles have gone white.

They’re fifteen minutes away from his daughter’s official first day of school and Baji is five seconds away from turning this car around and taking her to work with him.

She giggles in the backseat and Baji swallows a lump of emotion and sighs when it settles in the pit of his stomach like lead.

“You excited princess?”

Her little head bobs, her pigtails (and the giant bows tied around each one) sways with the motion.

“Words Kaori, remember to use your words,” he reminds her.

“Yes daddy,” she replies, eyes falling to her iPad once more.

Baji gulps when the gates to the school come into view. He takes a deep breath and pulls into the driveway. The parking lot isn’t full because he’s twenty minutes early. When he finds a spot however his panic mounts.

This is real. This is happening. His daughter is starting school.

“We’re here!” she squeals when she finally looks up from the screen. She wriggles in her car seat, clearly wanting out.

Baji frowns.

“Daddy!” she insists. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Baji wants to cry. “Okay, princess. Okay,” he resigns himself to being miserable for the rest of the day. Perhaps for the rest of his existence. This is where it all starts. With school.

He hoists her out of the car seat and grabs her backpack and lunchbox. Keisuke is extremely proud of the fact that he, Keisuke Baji, despite his questionable past, has raised a daughter on his own.

He’d had to learn to comb and take care of hair other than his own (a lot goes into having healthy hair apparently), accept the color pink (of which there were over fifty shades), pretend tea parties didn’t make him uncomfortable (it’s the chairs), wear glitter make up (glitter can never be cleaned correctly), sing and dance (he’s a performer but only for her) and of course, what self respecting father of a girl hadn’t perfect mani/pedis.

His life had taken a dramatic three sixty when Kaori was born. But there wasn’t a single day since then that he regretted. He loves her more than he can actually put into words.

Which explained why he was on the verge of tears as he fit his arm through the strap of her sparkly, pink backpack and wrapped his hand around her much smaller one.

On the steps leading up to the front doors stood Kaori’s teacher. He’d met you previously when he’d registered Kaori and even then, dressed in jeans and a t shirt you’d been beautiful. His panic subsides a little when you give him a small smile.

“Mr. Baji,” you barely spare him a glance and Baji might have been insulted if not for the way your gaze immediately drops to his daughter. “And you must be little Kaori,” you squat to her level and Baji’s heart stutters. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Your daddy has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” Kaori asks, and Baji lifts a brow at her when she turns to him with a skeptical look on her face.

“I have,” Baji replies. “This is your teacher Kaori,” he holds his breath as his daughter eyes you. Kaori Baji isn’t shy. In fact she’s one of the most outspoken kids he’s ever met. It’s easy to know when she dislikes someone or something because she has no problem pointing it out. It’s whether she likes someone or not that’s the real issue.

“Do you like tea parties?” Kaori asks, and Baji knows this is the million dollar question. One wrong answer and today could easily turn into a shit show.

“Oh,” you gush. “I love tea parties! Do you wanna see my tea set?”

Baji blinks, eyes widening when Kaori releases his hand and takes a step toward you. She nods and then as though catching herself she responds. “Yes, please.”

“Fantastic! But you’ll have to say goodbye to daddy,” you say carefully. “Is that okay?”

Baji’s breath leaves him in a pained rush. His panic coming back full force. He purses his lips, eyes glued to Kaori as she considers your request.

She turns to Baji motioning for him to come closer. He squats. “You have to go,” she says, and Baji’s heart shrivels.

“I know princess,” his throat burns, as he pulls the backpack from his shoulder and helps Kaori into it. “Will you be okay without me?”

Kaori gives him a look like she’s offended and Baji might have laughed under different circumstances. She frowns, stepping into his arms when he spreads them for her. Her little arms wrap around his neck tightly. Baji’s eyes close briefly, his heart thundering as he squeezes her. When he opens them he finds your eyes on him.

Kaori steps out of his arms. “I’ll be okay,” she confirms.

Keisuke glances from her to you and then back to her. “Okay,” he presses a kiss to her forehead, and stands. You stand with him and Kaori takes your hand.

“First days are always the hardest,” you comment.

Baji can only smile weakly at you as you guide Kaori deeper into the school. His daughter turns and gives him a short dismissive wave before turning her full attention on you.

Baji stands there long enough that the parking lot starts to fill up.

She’ll be fine he tells himself when he finally forced himself to leave. She’s a big girl he repeats as he forced himself not to think about what could be happening to her now.

It’s only a couple of hours, she’ll be fine.

[brianlesshetaliawritings]

hey, since your request are open, can you write a Yandere Russia x reader? A scenario where the reader is a foreigner and he goes in reader's country to meet some important businessmen, just to fall for reader who was just standing in front of a store like🧍. Thank you❤️

Yandere Russia seeing reader for the first time

note: i loved this idea so much. thank you anon. this'll be in russia's point of view, and i'm sorry it took me so long. like really long.. to do this. if you request anything else pls specify that it's you so i can make it priority and make up for it by being faster next time.. just like add a star to it or some shit like that. i hope this is what u wanted but im not certain :(

!! yandere content. if you can't handle any behavior possibly seen in a yandere please don't read this. !! (example; obsessive, stalkery, possessive, violent, or generally horrid behaviour.)

It was late when Russia was finally allowed to leave. Not his worst work day, but certainly not his lightest. Actually, he's been rather busy, this being his third country in this week alone. Luckily though, he's finally able to have some peace. Stroll around and take a view of the surrounding cityscape around him. He feels a bit out of place, but that's to be expected. It's something he's used to (even in his own country..)

But as he's walking, something hits him. He hasn't ate today. Too caught up in the busy-ness of the morning to even had thought about it. And he really doesn't want to enter a resturaunt, or cook at the hotel.. So he settles on something simpler. He'll just get himself a quick meal at a corner store, whatever pre-made thing is available really he isn't picky.. Had too hard of a life to be choosy with things such as food.

Looking through the streets, he finally finds one. The bright lights of the sign a bit bright as he looks at it too long.. He squints, blinking a bit to regain his sight and looking down to- oh? At this hour? He stares for a moment before slowly looking in the other direction, just to be sure he won't get noticed. God, they're gorgeous. So much so he doesn't even feel hungry anymore, or exhausted, or anything. It's like the very presence of this mysterious stranger just caught him. Something he struggles to not rocket focus on, and he hasn't a clue why. Blinking, he looks down at the road. Why's he so focused on this random person just looking at the signs in front of the store window tonight? Maybe he's just so tired he can't focus.

Shaking his head, Russia walks across the street and goes past them, having to use every tiny bit of control he has to not gawk at them the entire time as he goes through the door. Making his way in-between shoves, he decides to just try and not get caught absolutely enamored by this beautiful individual he just found himself. Carefully looking through all the chips and jerky and whatnot he decides to lean down and settle on some potatoe chips. An easy answer. And as soon as he stand back up, his eyes conveniently land right back on the very person from earlier! They went in after him and yet they're checking out earlier. He looks over their outfit, then the counter. What they got looks good..

Putting his chips back up, he goes to the back of the store. Where is it all.. Grabbing the drink you got from the fridge before looking all about the store to get the rest. And he sighs once he finishes. He sort of wishes he didn't decide to avoid you, internally kicking himself in the ass for making that decision. Quickly getting his items checked out, he steps outside the door, looking both ways.. There. Turning. He follows you at a steady speed, not too slow, not too fast. But then, a crowd spawns from the middle of norwhere as you're passing a street and.. Your gone. He looks around, but there aren't any signs of you anywhere. Standing at the sidewalk of the intersection, he sighs, frowning. Just as quick as you showed up, you dissapeared.

He doesn't know why, but he has a feeling this person will haunt his mind until he finally finds them again. Hell- they already are. And it's making him increasingly frustrated that he didn't try and come up to you. His grip tightening a bit on the bag, he makes a promsie to himself. He'll find you. Even if it's the last thing he'll do.. He'll find you.

[vanishingcherry]

Can you do one for lando with 2 and 6 from fluff prompt list :)

HONEY, IM HOME!

pairings: lando norris x reader

authors note: thanks for requesting! prompt 2 is "i demand cuddles" and prompt 6 is "honey im home!" check out my prompt list

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

"Honey, im home!"

Lando's voice rang through the apartment. You could hear the door shut behind him, followed by the thump of his bag hitting the floor.

It was the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix, which meant tonnes of additional pressure on Lando for a good result. It was the crown jewel of racing, winning in Monaco meant having a legacy. While it was, unfortunately, obvious that the McLarens were nowhere close to where they had to be for even a chance of winning, there was still the possibility of a top 10 finish. You knew that if anyone could pull it off, it would be Lando.

"I'm in the living room" you called back to him, smiling at the way his voice fluctuated with the sentence.

You had opted to stay home on Thursday, knowing that you would be at the paddock the next 3 days. Already the excitement was bubbling up, it wasn't everyday you got to watch the Monaco GP live.

Walking in he smiles before immediately heading over to you on the couch. When he leans down to give you a small kiss, you can't help but let a small smile creep up on your face. It was crazy to think that at some point you were living your life, not having ever met him, and now you found it tough to spend a few hours away.

"Hey baby, how were the interviews?" you ask.

He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before looking for something to eat.

"They were okay, you know how the reporters are."

You did. As much as you loved Formula 1, you found the constant limelight of that world a bit hard to manage. Even something as simple as walking to the garage would sometimes mean paparazzi or reporters invading your privacy, taking pictures and asking questions. This wasn't testament to all reporters, you knew that their job was to ask the questions that fans would want answers to. You just wished it was a bit different.

And all that was when you only attended a couple races a year, you had no idea how Lando survived all the media attention. Which is why you made sure to always be sensitive on the topic, letting him know that he had your support no matter what.

"Did they say anything bad?" you ask softly, lowering the volume of the television to focus on your current conversation.

"Not bad, per se. They just kept talked about how bad McLaren has done so far and its just annoying." Lando replied, in an agitated tone. Not at you, but at the memory of the interviews from earlier in the day.

You sigh in response. "How about we forget about that for now, and watch a movie instead?" You wanted to distract him from racing, just for a while so he could come back stronger the next day.

"Yeah. What movie have you got on?"

He walks over, taking a glance at the screen before letting out a chuckle.

"Seriously? This again? I swear you're obsessed."

"Hey! It's a good movie."

Rather than reply, Lando moves so that hes directly infront of you, blocking your line of sight. You stare at him in confusion, before tilting your head to try and see the screen again. Lando moves too, once again blocking your view of the movie.

"What?"

"I demand cuddles."

"And you call me dramatic?"

He frowns at the statement, but you catch the small smirk he tries, and fails, to hide. You roll your eyes at his antics, but couldn't help giving in. He knew exactly how to play the right cards to get whatever he wanted from you.

"God, you really annoy me sometimes y'know?" You open your arms wide, inviting him to lie down on the couch next to you.

He all but jumps, sitting next to you and planting a small kiss on your cheek before shuffling over and laying his head in your lap. It was facing the TV, so that he could watch the movie, but was at the perfect angle for you to play with his hair.

After a few minutes of silence, his voice peeps out.

"Can we please watch a different movie?"

"No."