#It helps. even if slightly. to write things out and imagine them clearly.

[otaku553]

Straw hat women redesigns :) I was trying to doodle some of the crew and came to the realization that I just Could Not with Nami so I wanted to play around with it a little bit

Some more design notes below:

Nami’s design actually went a lot smoother for me than Robin’s! I think canon post timeskip Nami is a very low bar. While you can argue that to some extent Nami being vain and seductive is part of her character, I do feel that there are many more integral parts of her character that can be highlighted in her design, namely map making and her combat. Though not one of the stronger straw hats, Nami does seem to be well practiced with her staff outside of its use for weather manipulation, and I think her being a physical combatant, even slightly, can be better reflected with more loose clothing for better mobility.

For her mapmaking, I wanted her to have constant easy access to her tools and to information about the locale, so around her waist she has one large pouch at the back for books and scrolls and maps in progress and one small pouch to the side for writing utensils and measurement tools. As backup she also has 2 pens in her bun, which also act as pins for keeping her hair up if she ever needs to move a lot.

I’m not sure how clearly it shows up in the notes, but Nami’s shoe soles are also made from whatever artificial cloud material makes up the weather island she stayed on during the timeskip, so that it both pads her steps to make them soundless and bounces for better mobility. The shoes are naturally shaped like heels but without the actual heel, since she tends to move around on tiptoes anyways- a nod to her epithet as cat burglar and her past as a thief.

I made her shoulders a bit broader because I think they probably get a lot of exercise with her staff, and changed out the bikini top for a more supportive chest wrap, with a loose tank over it for breathability. The compression socks and sleeve are more stylistic than anything, since I like layers, but they might come in handy for her if she spends extended amounts of time sitting down making maps for the crew.

Robin’s was a bit more difficult for me to figure out, and I might go back and revisit it at some point. For Nami, it was a bit easier to imagine what would pair well with her combat methods and her needs as a mapmaker, but with Robin, she’s an academic who fights almost completely hands off, without a specific weapon to her name. Because her strength lies mostly in her devil fruit, she has a bit more room for style over functionality, but I also still wanted her to have something that made sense with what she was. I don’t really think I succeeded in that regard, but it’s also hard to convey what she does visually— she’s more of like a professor than a field archaeologist I think.

I really really enjoy her cowboy hat but I didn’t think it would match with the rest of the outfit so I switched it out for a wider brimmed hat and kept the orange sunglasses on it, as a nod to the revolutionaries with the combination of headwear and eyewear. She deserves a trench coat. I don’t make the rules. And the rest of the fit mostly came down to things I think I would enjoy wearing, haha

The trench coat is partially a nod to the scholars of ohara, who seem to wear white coats like lab coats in some screenshots of robin’s backstory. I think also the reading glasses help to make her seem a bit more academic, but aren’t prominent enough to leave a strong impression. All in all I do wish robin’s design had more functionality in it but I also think that robin is a character who probably enjoys dressing up nicely like this, especially in the comfort and stability of the straw hats.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Sulky | Jeno Imagine #12

Title: Sulky

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mildly suggestive, a little making out towards the end

Word Count: 952

Author's Note: Alright, I know I literally just posted something for Jeno a few days ago. But this idea was just living rent free in my mind, and I just couldn't resist writing it. I know you guys like this stuff too, so I thought writing this couldn't hurt. I'm Jaemin biased, but Jeno is just so cute especially when he's sulky. Anyway hope you guys like it ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Now, it was no secret to anyone that Jeno got sulky easily. When you two first started seeing each other, you found it quite funny how things could so easily hurt such a tough, masculine guy. Of course, you’re usually able to provide him with enough reassurance to make him a smiley puppy again. Teasing your partner was never in your nature. But you’d occasionally step out of character just because Jeno’s reactions were hilarious.

The two of you were lounging on the couch in his apartment’s living room, mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You paused when you came across some photos from his recent concert. While you admired how fiercely handsome your boyfriend looked on stage, another member unintentionally caught your eye.

“Wah, Jaemin looks amazing in that stage outfit,” you remarked, showing him the picture. “I can’t imagine all the screams from fans when they saw his abs.”

Jeno glanced at the photo and shrugged, his expression unchanging. “I mean, it’s nothing new. Everyone knows Jaemin works out, so I don’t think that many people were surprised.”

At first, you didn’t even notice your boyfriend’s lack of interest in the subject, too preoccupied with scrolling through more photos of his attractive member. In fact, you found his comment a bit hard to believe.

“No, but the lighting from the stage makes you see how perfectly defined and sculpted his abs are!” you said in awe, as you came across a close-up picture that a fan had taken.

Your boyfriend’s grip tightened on his phone, and he shot you a sideways glance. To him, it was almost as if you had forgotten he was sitting right beside her. 

“My stage outfit showed my abs too, you know,” he muttered.

The hint of sulkiness in his voice was something you caught immediately, and that's when you realized he was jealous. Although it wasn’t your intention to make him feel this way, you couldn’t help but find the pout on his lips adorable. Deciding to push his limits just a little, you feigned obliviousness to his growing discomfort over your sudden interest in Jaemin.

Leaning back on the couch, you sighed. “Well yeah, but I’ve already seen your abs plenty of times. Not that I find them boring now, but…”

Jeno’s pout deepened and he whined softly, his jealousy now clearly evident. You bit your lip, stifling a laugh because he was just so endearing like this. However, your innocent teasing soon backfired. 

Determined to make his point, he sat up and lifted his shirt, revealing his own well-defined abs, a testament to his consistent workouts. Before you could even say anything, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his firm stomach with an intense gaze.

“Tell me, who do you prefer,” he demanded in a dark yet calm voice. “Jaemin or me?”

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and your breath slightly hitched at the sudden contact. Feeling the ridge of his muscles beneath your fingers quickly brought out your instinctive shyness. You rarely saw this possessive side of Jeno.

“Jeno…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. You searched your brain for something to say, but you were too flustered to find the right words.

“That’s what I thought,” he interrupted, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

Before you could pull away, Jeno leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone. As the moments passed and his lips showed no signs of moving, you closed your eyes and gently placed your hand under his jaw. One of his hands was already on your waist and as he felt you kiss back, he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss with a tender urgency. 

His lips moved against yours hungrily, the only sound of the room the soft smacking of kisses. The kiss deepened, and you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring with a slow, deliberate intensity. Your lips molded together, warm and yielding, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. The subtle, rhythmic movement of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but respond with equal fervor.

When you finally parted, you needed a moment to catch your breath. Jeno’s gaze remained fixed on you, silently seeking reassurance, his eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course I prefer you,” you replied, looking at him as if the answer were obvious. “Jaemin’s visuals might be impressive, but you know I only have eyes for you.”

Jeno’s grin widened, and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back to your previous cuddling position. “Good,” he said, sinking comfortably into the couch cushions with you.

Soon after, his tone turned playful yet still a bit possessive. “But I’m still putting you on a Na Jaemin ban from now on.”

The lingering sulkiness in his comment made you want to roll your eyes. But instead, you laughed and rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You knew that protesting would be useless, and he’d get over it eventually.

Yet, you also knew that what you and Jeno had was unbreakable. With how much you two loved each other, you were inseparable, no matter how sulky he got.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[papercorgiworld]

“I dare you to steal his clothes”

Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle

Your friend dares you to steal his clothes while he’s in the shower, obviously things don’t go as planned…

Warning: smut, making out and the guys are naked

Some of you asked for Draco and Tom, I’m sorry it took me a while, but here you go. First time writing for Tom so I hope it’s okay. For Mattheo, Theo, Blaise and Enzo: click here

You were sitting in the slytherin common room. It was late and the party was dying down but your friends refused to go to their dorms.

“Truth or dare?” Your best friend asks as they try to focus on you but they’re clearly too drunk to manage that.

“Dare.”

Your friend tries to get their brain to come up with a good dare, something fun. It is then that they see a certain slytherin holding a towel and heading for the bathroom.

Draco Malfoy

“Really? Malfoy of all people?” You mutter as you reluctantly sneak towards the door of the slytherin boys bathroom. You and him never saw eye to eye, so being dared to steal his clothes was obviously not on top of your bucket list. Though you had to admit that embarrassing him was alway fun. As soon as you enter, you spot several scattered around pieces of clothing and quietly tiptoe to them. When you grab his pants his belt makes a little too much noise.

“(Y/n)?! Is that you?” Draco spots you and instead of moving, your threat response of choice is to freeze and stay crouched down with his pants in your hands. “Of course! Loser by day, weird pervert by night.” Your lips part in shock as he accuses you of being a pervert and you immediately protest. “If I was a pervert I wouldn’t be in here with you, because there’s probably nothing impressive to se-.” But just in that moment Draco fully steps out of the shower. With nothing left to the imagination your eyes widen and your brain shuts down. “Or maybe there is.” You mutter as you tilt your head slightly impressed. “Quit staring!” Draco snares as he searches for his towel. “Quit dangling it in front of me.” Now that Draco has finally found a towel you look away and meet his eyes. You’re surprised to find him blushing. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’ll be in serious trouble when I tell Snape.” He threatens.

“I was dared to do this. Are you really going to snitch on me over a stupid dare.” You roll your eyes. “For once be reasonable, Malfoy.” You complain. “You were dared to do what exactly? Join me in the showers? ‘Cause if that’s the case I won't snitch. I’ll even help.” A flirty smirk tugs on his lips as he walks towards you. You lay a hand on his chest keeping his still wet body at a distance. “No, I’m supposed to steal your clothes.” Draco huffs. “Not happening, darling. I’m not walking out here in nothing but my towel.”

You look him up and down, thinking about his suggestion to join you in the showers. “How about I offer you a deal?” You suggest and Draco just shakes his head. “There’s nothing you can offer me that I don’t already ha-“ you interrupt him and his arrogance immediately falters when he feels you closing in, your fingers tracing over his chest and abdomen. “How about my naked body pressed against yours as hot water tickles on us.” Draco stares deep into your eyes to make sure if you were being serious, because hearing you say this was something out of his fantasies.

While Draco continues staring and starts dreaming of what might happen you hook a finger behind his towel, bringing him back to planet earth. “So?” You ask innocently as if it wasn’t clear to you what he wanted. With a mix of hesitation and gentleness his lips move over yours, waiting for you to deepen it, which you happily do. As soon as he senses the passion in your kiss all doubt leaves him and his hand holds your head in place as he kisses you like it’s a nonverbal declaration of love.

While kissing, you stumble towards the shower and in the process Draco loses his towel, but that’s just all the more convenient. Feeling his hardening member against your thighs sends a wave of pleasure to your core. When a soft whimper rolls off your lips, Draco presses his forehead against yours and admires your face. “So fucking beautiful.” He breathes before kissing you with a loving hunger. With just barely enough self control he helps you take off your clothes before turning on the water.

***

Freshly showered and with a bright smile on your face you join your friends. “I got his clothes.” Luna cheers for you like you’ve won the quidditch cup, but Hermoine just looks at your still wet hair. “Did you shower while you were there?” She finally asks, unable to put the pieces together. However, before you can answer a whistling Draco walks in with just his towel around his waist and Hermoine slowly turns her face to you. What. The. Fuck. didyoujustdo!

Tom Riddle

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system you would’ve never accepted this dare, Tom was trouble and you knew it, but the alcohol told you that stealing his clothes was easy peasy lemon squeezy. But it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that it wasn’t easy peasy at all, since you couldn’t spot his clothes at all. With the shower still running you decided to take the time to search a little longer. Cursing, you give up and turn around only to see a very naked and very smug looking Tom leaning against the bathroom wall.

“Didn’t find what you were looking for?” How long had he been standing there? “Oh, I’m sorry. I just accidentally walked into the wrong bathroom. Sorry.” You hope your flusteredness about the awkward situation covers up for your horrible lying skills. “Took you a while to figure out you’re in the wrong bathroom.” You nod awkwardly as he shamelessly stares you down, while you do your best to avoid staring at the nude man in front of you. “Yeah, but your nakedness kind of tipped me off.” You gesture to his body like he wasn’t aware of the fact he wasn’t wearing anything. He looks down at himself and you follow, staring a little too long at what’s between his legs. “See anything you like?” He questions amused as you panic and immediately look up at him. “No.” His tongue moves inside his mouth as he wonders what he could do to someone as innocent as you. You try to look away from him, but there’s something in his eyes that lures you back to them.

“That’s the second lie you’ve told me today.” Tom says as he moves towards you and for a moment you forget to breathe. He’s so close to you that you can count the water droplets on his chest. You feel your heart explode with anticipation as he leans in. At the last moment he moves away from your lips to your ear. “Try not to lie a third time.” He whispers and you feel your knees get weak. “Do you want my clothes for your silly dare? Or do you want me to fuck you?” You feel a wave of excitement rush through your body as you see a spark of sweet desire in Tom’s eyes.

“Honestly…” You breathe out clearly under the influence of your hormones. Tom’s eyes are glued to your body, filled with hunger, as he traces every inch of it, longing for you. “Both.” You say, not lying this time. Tom forces a smile as he’s not too pleased with your answer. “Then let me make the choice easy for you.” His harsh tone is the only warning you get before he pushes you against the cold tiles. The kiss is messy but wonderful and your hand finds its way to his hair as he traces sloppy kisses down to your neck. With one rough movement he picks you up and you wrap your legs tightly around him. His hips moving into yours has your panties soaking and he knows it. “Still interested in that game you were playing with your friends?”

“No. I like your game better.” You breathe out, feeling his hand slide up your legs under your skirt. “Good, smart girl.” You throw your head back and Tom pushes your panties to the side, sliding through your folds a few times before pushing in a finger. Your moans quickly fill the room.

***

You join your friends. “Sorry, I got a little distracted.” You try to sound casual but with everyone’s eyes on you you can’t help but get flustered. “Don’t bother lying, we all heard you scream his name over and over again.” Your eyes widen and you chuckle nervously. When Tom walks in, he quickly figures out why you’re all flustered. So he stops by you. “No need to be embarrassed, I loved the sound of your voice.” His suggestive whisper has you biting your lip and squeezing your thighs as your thoughts return to your previous activities. Maybe time to return to your room. Or his?

[islandofsages]

HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

[dee-writes-anime]

Let Me Take Care of You

FEATURING Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

SUMMARY Don't mind me, just sitting here imagining Megumi with his sweet, sick girlfriend...

CONTENT WARNINGS sick fluff, Megumi summons his shikigami, worried Megumi, worried reader

AUTHORS NOTE this is the cutest thing ever RAHHHH, I was kicking my feet, giggling while writing it.

The blankets cocooned you in a heavy warmth, though the chill in your bones never quite dissipated. Each breath felt ragged, a constant reminder of the fever gripping your body. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough to make your limbs ache and your thoughts fuzzy. Another cough wracked through your chest, stealing your breath for a moment before subsiding, leaving you even more exhausted.

From outside the bedroom, you heard the faintest sound of footsteps—pacing, restless. You knew exactly who it was. Megumi had been hovering, anxiously checking on you from a distance since you had fallen ill, his presence just outside the door impossible to ignore.

He didn’t have to worry so much. It was just a fever, nothing serious. Still, you knew Megumi—how he internalized his concern, how the furrow in his brow deepened when something gnawed at him. He was trying to give you space, but it was clearly killing him.

The door creaked slightly as it inched open, revealing him standing there in the doorway. His expression was stern, but the softness in his eyes betrayed how worried he really was. "How are you feeling?" he asked, voice quiet but filled with a tension he couldn’t hide.

"I’m fine," you rasped out, though the hoarseness of your voice and the cough that followed didn’t exactly sell the lie. You shifted under the blankets, trying to appear more composed than you felt. "Just need to rest."

Megumi’s frown deepened. “You’ve been saying that for days.”

You shot him a weak glare, though there wasn’t much force behind it. “I don’t want you getting sick too.”

“That’s not important,” he replied, stepping into the room fully now. His arms crossed over his chest, and you could see the frustration building behind his calm demeanor. “I don’t care if I get sick.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, but you remained stubborn. “I care.”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to find a way to convince you otherwise. For a moment, the room was filled only with the soft sound of your breathing, each inhale feeling a little heavier than the last.

Then, without warning, he summoned them—two small, familiar forms flickering into existence from the shadows. You watched in mild surprise as his bunny shikigami appeared at the foot of your bed. They hopped toward you, noses twitching, their soft fur practically begging to be petted.

“Megumi...” you muttered, trying to sound stern, but the sight of the bunnies—so cute and innocent—melted away any real resistance.

“They’ll keep you company,” he said, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles, though the worry hadn’t left his eyes. “Since you won’t let me.”

The bunnies nudged their way toward you, soft and warm against the fabric of your blankets. You couldn’t help but reach out, fingers brushing over their fur. A small smile crept onto your face despite yourself.

But then you caught his gaze—earnest, concerned, hovering near the doorway like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him get any closer.

“Megumi,” you croaked, pausing as another cough cut through your voice. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, taking a step closer, arms dropping to his sides. “But you’re being stubborn.”

You shook your head, fighting the dizzy spell that came with the movement. “I don’t want you to catch this. You’ve got enough going on without adding a fever to it.”

He didn’t reply right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, measuring your exhaustion against your words. Then, with another flick of his fingers, Megumi summoned his demon dogs. Their large forms materialized by the bed, one resting its head on your lap, the other sitting beside you, its dark eyes fixed on yours, almost pleading.

“They agree with me,” Megumi said, a soft chuckle in his voice now, though his expression was still laced with concern. “You need to let me stay.”

The weight of the demon dog’s head on your lap was warm and comforting, its dark fur soft under your palm as you absentmindedly stroked it. You could feel yourself beginning to waver. He always knew how to wear you down, bit by bit, with that quiet persistence of his.

“You’re not playing fair,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Megumi stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, his presence a soothing weight beside you. “Since when do I play fair?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, despite your fatigue. You wanted to argue with him, tell him to leave, to stay away, but the truth was... you didn’t want him to go. The fever, the aches—they were bad, but the loneliness, the distance you were forcing between you two—that felt worse.

“I’m serious, Megumi,” you muttered, closing your eyes for a moment as exhaustion washed over you again. “You’ll get sick.”

“If I get sick, I’ll deal with it,” he replied softly, his voice close now, his hand brushing against your cheek as he pushed a stray hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, cautious, like he was trying not to overwhelm you. “I don’t care about that.”

You opened your eyes to look at him, and the expression on his face made your chest tighten. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were filled with something so tender it made your heart ache.

“Megumi...” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“I don’t care about getting sick,” he repeated, his thumb brushing your cheek in slow, comforting strokes. “I just want to be with you. Please... let me take care of you.”

The room felt impossibly still, the warmth of the blankets and the quiet presence of his shikigami grounding you. He was so close now, sitting on the bed beside you, his worry clear in every inch of him. You wanted to tell him no again, to keep up the stubborn front, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore, and... maybe you didn’t want to.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you relented. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “I’ve heard that before.”

Gently, he slipped under the covers, careful not to disturb you too much as he settled beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close enough that you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. The warmth of his body seeped into your feverish skin, and for the first time in days, you felt a little more at ease.

“I’ll be right here,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there. “For as long as you need me.”

Despite the lingering fever, despite the worry that he might get sick too, you couldn’t help but relax into him. His presence, his warmth—it was exactly what you needed, even if you hadn’t been ready to admit it.

“Okay,” you whispered, finally letting yourself rest in his arms. “Just don’t blame me if you catch this.”

“I won’t,” he whispered back, holding you just a little tighter. “I promise.”

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: fluff

warnings: none

characters: passione members (again..😅)

notes: Inspired by that one trend on tiktok, also guys i have noticed that i write for passione way too much!🥲 So please give me ideas for the other parts main groups

How each passione member would react to their girlfriend calling them “husband”

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno would be the definition of calm, but the moment he hears you say “husband,” a soft smile would tug at the corner of his lips. He’d pause whatever he’s doing and look at you with those kind, thoughtful eyes of his. “Husband, hmm?” he’d repeat, letting the word settle in the air for a moment. Then, he’d step closer to you, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “It suits us, doesn’t it?” He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but you’d feel his warmth, the unspoken promise in his gaze that, when he says something like this, he means it with every fiber of his being.

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno would be composed on the surface, as always, but when you call him “husband,” you’d see his golden eyes widen slightly, just enough for you to know you caught him off guard. He’d smile that soft, knowing smile of his and say, “Is that how you see me?” His voice would be gentle, but there’d be something in his tone that made the moment feel important. Giorno might not be the type to indulge in romantic gestures, but you’d know he’s thinking about it seriously. After a pause, he’d add, “I wouldn’t mind that title someday.” With him, you’d feel that deep sense of commitment—like he’s already planning for that future without even having to say much.

Guido Mista

Mista would absolutely light up. The moment you call him “husband,” you’d see his face break into the widest grin, his eyes sparkling with joy and mischief. “Husband? You think I’m that cool, huh?” he’d tease, clearly enjoying the moment. He’d wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close, probably exaggerating a little for effect. “Well, I guess I better start acting like one then!” He’d play it off with jokes, calling you “wifey” for the rest of the day and pretending like he’s doing husbandly duties, like holding doors open or helping with small things, but deep down, you’d know he’s loving the idea of being your forever person. He’d likely even mention it to the Sex Pistols later, letting them hype him up over it too.

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio would try so hard to play it cool. The moment you casually call him “husband,” he’d stop whatever he’s doing, his eyes narrowing as if he’s annoyed. “What did you just call me?” he’d ask, sounding gruff. But you’d catch the faintest blush creeping up his neck. He’d turn away for a moment, clearly trying to compose himself. “Don’t start throwing words like that around,” he’d mumble, but you’d notice that he didn’t actually sound mad. After a few moments of silence, though, he’d soften just a little. He’d glance at you from the corner of his eye and, in a quieter, almost hesitant voice, add, “Maybe… someday. If you’re serious.” It’s the closest you’d get to a romantic confession from him, but it would mean the world.

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia would be all over the place with his reaction, full of energy and emotion as always. The second you call him “husband,” he’d freeze, his eyes going wide as he points to himself in disbelief. “Me?! Your husband?!” His voice would be filled with pure excitement and surprise, like he can’t quite believe you’re serious. Then, as if realizing how much he likes the sound of it, his whole face would break into the happiest grin. “Hell yeah, I’d be your husband!” He’d laugh and probably throw his arms around you, lifting you up in a hug and spinning you around. For the rest of the day, he’d keep randomly calling himself your husband, testing out how it feels. “Husband Narancia, coming through!” He’d be over the moon, already imagining your future together.

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo would immediately tense up when you call him “husband,” his face flushing as if you just dropped a bomb on him. “What did you just say?” He’d ask in disbelief, his logical mind racing. His initial reaction would be a mix of panic and embarrassment, his hands twitching slightly as he overthinks the whole situation. “You can’t just… say things like that so casually!” he’d mutter, his brows furrowed as he tries to figure out how to respond. But then, after a long moment of silence, he’d let out a soft sigh, the tension easing from his shoulders. “But… if you mean it,” he’d say, his voice quieter now, “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” His face would still be red, but there’d be a vulnerability in his expression, a hint that deep down, the thought of being your husband means more to him than he lets on.

Okay so I know I say this under most of my posts but I love this one soso much!!! It’s just so cute to me ugh🥹💞

If you guys enjoyed this make sure to check out my other work! And if you’d like me to write anything specific for any character/group from the parts 1-7 my requests are open! <3

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it. 

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention. 

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers. 

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you. 

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.” 

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher. 

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach. 

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment. 

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can. 

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical. 

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own. 

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours. 

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits. 

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.” 

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class. 

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly. 

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go. 

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute. 

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident. 

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time. 

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that. 

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation. 

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking. 

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly. 

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better. 

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs. 

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room. 

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty. 

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile. 

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go. 

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are. 

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him. 

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it. 

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door. 

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe. 

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe. 

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind. 

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees. 

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance. 

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature. 

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them. 

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest. 

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet. 

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough. 

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips. 

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink. 

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?” 

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

[rishiguro]

WALLS - S. RINTAROU

a/n: help i feel like i forgot how to write

suna immediately noticed that something wasn’t right. you were silent, not even protesting when he put on some shitty rom-com, instead only nodding absentmindedly. your eyes never seemed to look directly at him when you faced each other, instead looking through him, like you zoned out. you didn’t lay your head on his shoulder like you usually would, instead resting against the back of the couch. “are you okay?”

“huh? yeah,” you replied after a couple seconds. you blinked repeatedly, shaking your head quickly, as if you haven’t heard him properly. “yeah, i am”

the middle blocker narrowed his eyes slightly. he noticed your slightly hunched shoulders and your dazed glance, mind clearly occupied with something.

your hands curled and fisting the sleeves of your sweater.

“are you sure?” he asked again.

you gave him a half-hearted smile. “pretty sure?”

suna wasn’t so easily fooled by you — but sometimes you wished he was.

he kept quiet for a while, eyes cast forward, before he turned his head to you again, scanning your form.

your eyelids were heavy, dark eye bags telling him that you hadn’t slept properly the last few nights.

he hated it.

“i’m here for you”

he hated how you shut him out whenever there was something burdening you. you had always dealt with your problems alone, preferring to keep to yourself and never truly opening up to anyone — not even him.

and suna hated it so much.

“you can talk to me, you know?”

the middle blocker felt helpless whenever he saw you like this.

“i don’t know what you mean, i’m fine,” you replied curtly, turning your attention back to the tv, pretending to be interested in the random movie that was playing on the screen.

it took suna everything to shut up and not pry further.

there was no denying that he didn’t want to continue pestering you until he found out what has been bothering you, or even just until you simply admitted it.

he knew you were lying to him, he knew you weren’t fine and he knew you needed someone — and yet you kept shutting him out.

he couldn’t force you to talk to him because no matter how much he tried, you would only end up shying away from him. suna knew you had a hard time opening up about things; he could only imagine what was going on in your mind.

were you scared of it? were you afraid that he’d turn you away? did you think he wouldn’t take you seriously? that he’d joke about it? or that he would belittle you and your feelings?

no matter what your concerns were, suna promised himself that he would find a way to break down your walls.

it wasn’t until a few minutes into the credits that you had noticed the movie was over.

furrowing your eyebrows you tried to recall the plot, or at least the ending, just something to be able to have a conversation about.

yet before you could even open your mouth, you were pushed against suna’s chest, strong arms tightly wrapped around you with head resting in the crook of his neck.

and once you were shielded from the rest of the world, the brown haired man’s body safely engulfing you, your once calm and collected breathing grew haggard. quiet sobs escaped from your tight throat, restricting your airflow. your vision blurred as you shut your eyes, trying to force the tears back, only to have them slip through nonetheless.

suna was quiet as he held your sobbing form, softly rubbing circles on your back, not once speaking up as you cried.

you weren’t okay.

but being in his arms made it a little bit better.

reblogs are appreciated

[justaaveragereader]

Use Me

Pairing: FuckBoy!Wooyoung x Afab Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: Dom Fuckboy!Woo, Sub!Reader, Unprotected Sex, Choking, Face Smacking, Degradation, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Woo Is Mean Asf🤪…If I Missed Anything…👀Lemme Know!

A/N: Listen…idk why but Woo has just been clouding my mind😵‍💫, I just feel like Woo would be a honest fuck boy, like he already is honest now, and loves being honest. Can you imagine him being a fuckboy?!? The man wouldn’t be sparing ANY feelings. Also I literally said I was going to take November off, and here I was at working writing a lil some some, if there are any mistakes, sorry😬. I wrote this without my glasses.

You knew that this was wrong, you heart yearned for him, he used you when he pleased, whispering sweet dreams into your ear, and you let him. That’s all he sold you, nothing but dreams, and you bought them everytime. You watched as his eyes ran over the large crowd, stopping once they reached your frame. With one simple look he could break you down in various ways then one.

The crinkle of his eyes, due to that mischievous smile he sported, he was taking you all in. Shifting your body weight from foot to foot you watch as his eyes flicker over to the bathrooms, before looking right back at you. Signaling to you to meet him in the restroom, subtly you make your way to the restroom, excusing yourself from your group of friends, you push your way through the packed crowd, the club lighting shining off your skin. With each step you take, Wooyoung hawks you down with his eyes, drinking in your form, the way you move, the way your chest slightly heaves with anticipation of knowing what’s to come. He's got you wrapped around each individual finger.

Excusing himself from his own friends, he makes his way towards the restroom, following closely behind you. Shutting the door behind him, he braces himself against the door. His sharp eyes drift over to your form that is leaning against the wall right across from him, how can someone make you feel so small? Walking slowly over to you, he stops right in front of you, his body slightly towering over you.

Squatting down to your level, so he could get better eye contact with you, he wanted to make sure your full attention was on him. He didn’t want you looking up to him, he wanted to make sure you understood him, with no room for misinterpretations of things. His intense gaze made your face heat with embarrassment. You both had sung this song various times, danced this dance numerous times. Yet he always made sure he drilled what was going to happen into your head, and made sure that you understood that this would be nothing more or nothing less. Nodding your head letting him know that you are listening closely, and that you understood his every word, he drags you over to the first available stall, not wanting to waste anymore time.

Shoving you in the stall, he quickly locks the door, shoving your chest against the cool metal door, pulling up your dress, moving your soaked panties to the side, as he places sloppy kisses along the side of your neck. Your body so easily submits to him, he’s like a drug, you know he’s no good for you, you know he’s nothing but a user, yet you can’t stay away from him. He's your daily dose, as much as you are his.

Pulling your back flush against his chest, he slowly thrusts into you, causing you to let out a loud mewl. His fingers immediately find your throat, tightening his grip around it. His wet lips brush over your ear, which each deep thrust your body hikes up the bathroom stall door. With your dress around your waist he uses the scrunched fabric as a way to stabilize himself.

“Fuck Woo..” you choke out through a moan. A large grin takes over his face, clearly pleased at every loud sound that leaves your mouth, it helps aid and feed his ego. With one harsh thrust, your cunt clenches hard around him, pulling a loud groan from him, he wraps his hand even tighter around your throat. Cutting your airways off partially

“Do you know what your purpose is? Hm?” He grits out between clenched teeth. There is so much fury beneath his dark eyes yet you miss the storm that’s brewing behind them.

“Your purpose is to satisfy me, and only me.” Gripping the sides of your throat tighter with each word he spits. You let out a choked out noise, your cunt clenching with need, the sounds of his deep voice in your ear, no matter how degrading they are, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

“Isn’t that right?” He spits out, your lack of an answer annoys him, slapping the side of your face lightly, he cocks your head to the side, bringing his face close to yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your own, his soft plump lips lightly touching yours.

“I. Said. Isn’t. That. Right.” He says with a harsh slam of his hips in your cunt. Letting out a choked out moan, you scream nothing but confirming words to him. Acknowledging you are nothing but something for him to stuff his hard dick into when he pleases.

Nodding your head swiftly, your forehead rubs against the cold metal stall door. While your heart pulled with each thrust of his, your pussy clenched with need. You wanted Wooyoung all hours of the day, you didn’t care how he came, you just wanted him.

“Fuck, this pussy is so good.” He grits out through clenched teeth, cocking his head back as he picks up speed, the sound of skin slapping echos in the empty bathroom, not even caring if someone was to enter and hear the noises you two created. He had one goal, and only one goal in mind.

Gripping your hips tighter, your body crushed against the door, face completely smushed against it. Wrapping his hand around your waist while the other tugs the bunched up fabric around your waist. Making sure to slam your hips down with each thrust up, making sure to hit that spongy spot over and over again.

“Fuck, Fuck Woo…please.” You rush out, your sweaty hands find grip on the top of the stall door, trying to stabilize yourself. The door rattles from the movement of his thrusts. Gripping your waist tighter, speeding up the pace of his thrust, while keeping the same hard thrust. Your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasm washing over your body with a loud mewl. Your hands grip the door for dear life. Orgasm so intense, tears stream down your face. He thrusts harshly a couple more times, before he pulls out, shooting his cum all over your lower back. Giving his cock a couple more pumps. He slightly leans forward, his nose brushing against your neck, stepping back he tucks himself away, pulling your panties back over to cover your dripping cunt. He doesn’t even wipe the cum off of your back, pulling the dress down, he pats where his cum is sitting on your skin, like a stain, like a temporary tattoo that only he leaves you with, that you wear secretly with pride.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he helps you stand up, unlocking the stall door, as he washes his hands, he looks up, catching your eyes through the mirror. A wicked grin grows across his face. Your eyes grow big and glassy. Looking back down at his hands, your eyes take over him. Taking him in for what he truly is, a user, an abuser, an opportunist, a man who sells you nothing but wishes and dreams, just as he finishes drying his hands he makes his way over towards you, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead.

“It’s never going to be me…is it?” you whisper out quietly but loud enough for him to hear. With his lips still on your forehead, you feel them stretch into a smile.

“Don't ask questions you already know the answer to.”

DO NOT REPOST.

[anonymergremlin]

Types of hugs

As promised, another piece of my thoughts and headcanons. This time about the gestures we learn in the game. I got really curious after receiving this one gesture after reading a certain sad letter. Is our boy learning from them? Is he curious about human gestures? Who knows.

Anyway, gender-neutral this time. For all you lovely people out there.

I hope you enjoy it and please forgive me for any mistakes. I am just a silly gremlin.

A heavy rainstorm rattled through the floors. Turning the once silent night into a restless one, keeping some of Hotel Krat souls awake. Step by step they approached the hotel's library. Perhaps a good book would help them through such a stormy night. Their fingers curled around the handle of the door. Slowly they opened it. To their surprise they were greeted by a brightly lit room. Another soul must have found its way into the library. "Oh... I didn't think anyone else would -" they stopped their own words as the other person came into view. It wasn't just anyone from the other residence, no, it was the puppet. Geppeto's puppet. The young man stood beside one of the many bookshelves. Fingers running through pages. He seemed to be quite concentrated on the writings.

“P?”.

As his name left their lips, he immediately turned. For a moment his porcelain face looked so blank, but it changed so quickly. The softest smile of all covered his face, his blue eyes lit up and his freckles almost seemed to shine like stars. It was impressive how much he had changed, he really had become more human.

"Have you found something interesting, my dear puppet? Would you like to show it to me?"

They took a few steps to close the distance between them, close enough for a quick glance at the book. To their surprise, P's finger pointed to a particular word.

Hug.

"Are you curious about hugs, P?" they asked him, eyes moving from the book to his blue eyes. He nodded. It wasn't unusual for him to be interested in human gestures. They had seen him mimic some of those described in books or letters before. Once he even mimicked a painting of a knight, his rapier close to his chest, the blade pointed to the sky, his back straight and a proud smile on his face. It was an amusing sight that brought a smile to their face.

"Well, my dear P, there are many kinds of hugs. You could say that one type of hug is never the same as another". They moved one of their hands up, raising their index finger like a teacher giving an important lesson. "In general, you can hug a person to show them that they are welcome, but you can also hug someone to say 'thank you'. You see? A hug can mean two completely different things." His mouth opened slightly and his eyes blinked, indicating his understanding. "A hug can also be a gesture of consolation. For example, when you see someone crying. You can go up to them and hug them, hoping that by doing that, you're going to comfort them through their sadness." For a moment, they stopped themselves and thought of all the people out there who deserve to be hugged. To have just the slightest bit of comfort in their lives. From the look on P's face, they had a feeling that the puppet probably had the same feeling. 

They shook their heads, trying to rid their mind of the thought of Krat's sad state. The people must continue to look forward to a better future. They brought their thoughts back to the hugs. With a slight blush, they remembered another important kind of hug.

"There's also... the kind of hug that lovers do," they said, almost whispering the words out of a slight sense of embarrassment. A fine blush rose to their cheeks as they thought about it more clearly. "Lovers hug as a gesture of their love. They embrace each other, body to body, to feel each other's warmth. Wishing they never have to let go." Their eyes closed for a second, imagining the feeling of someone holding them like that. Two hands gently touching their backs, arms wrapped around their frame and a chin resting softly on one of their shoulders. The thought alone left a good feeling in their chest, but to their surprise, it seemed to come from a real source. Eyes opened to find themselves in a hug. Two hands gently resting on the small of their back, arms carefully wrapped around their frame and a chin tucked between their neck and shoulder. P hugged them like a lover. He put just a tiny bit of pressure on them to pull them closer to him, wrapping his arms a little more around their frame and hiding his head in their neck.

They had only just told him about this kind of hug, but he was already imitating it so perfectly. And they knew from the softness and gentleness of his touch that he was serious about what the hug was saying.

Perhaps it wasn't a book that they needed in order to find comfort on this stormy night. Perhaps it is simply the hug of the person they love that they need.

[chamomiletealeaf]

Simon Riley teaching you how to shoot his gun.

warnings: kinda nsfw, suggestive, mentions of weapons, size kink, Simon is a cocky little slut and a bit more playful than he is originally, reader has Laswell's job (I'M SORRY LASWELL I LOVE YOU MY LOVE)

wc: 2,367

a/n: Sorry this prompt was so late. Final papers and stuff have been taking up my time so I haven't had much time to write full fics like this. I wanted to wait until I could really engage in it for y'all. Hope you guys enjoy 🫡 I tried my best and researched what I thought was necessary to be as accurate as possible when it comes to ranks, positions, and responsibilities of certain spots and jobs in the military. I apologize for any inaccuracies.

You are CIA. You're no stranger to the atrocities of the world, nor are you a stranger on how to deal with them. Your special skills in strategizing missions and intelligence analysis was something you were well known and respected for and did not go unnoticed by Captain John Price, which is how you got recruited as a Communications Analyst and Operation Overseer for Task Force 141.

You loved your job. The men you worked with on the Task Force became more than just coworkers and rather close friends over time.

You worked on base most of the time while the team was out in the field during missions, so with you being their boots on the ground and the birdie in their ears, you're like an omniscient entity, which they saw you as. You needed them and they needed you.

However, it was difficult being apart during missions knowing that if anything happened to you or them, you couldn't do anything to physically help each other in that moment, which is why you all needed to know how to handle personal enemy attacks on your own if needed. Luckily, you were all pretty good at that.

You knew how to shoot a gun, fight, outsmart captors, and take care of the team. You could definitely handle and take care of yourself pretty well. However, you still thought to yourself:

"There's always more to learn, right?"

-

"Oh c'mon Simon how hard could it be, you forget who I am." You laugh as you go to drink from your glass of iced tea.

You and the Task Force were celebrating your victory on your most recent mission in the common area of the base. The men had most of their gear off leaving their gloves and holsters on and Simon also with his signature skull balaclava and hoodie.

You sat on one of the couches in the common area next to Johnny with his arm sprawled across the back of it behind your neck. Your white button down was tucked into your black dress pants and you had the first few buttons undone, leaving less to the imagination. You also had on your black slightly heeled shoes, which were surprisingly very comfortable.

Simon sat across from you, body turned in your direction. Gaz sat next to him and Price leaned on the couch behind the two with a glass in hand.

"I'm just saying. Such a small thing probably couldn't handle something so big." Simon says and smirks under his balaclava as he looks at you, clearly amused by his innuendo.

You roll your eyes and Johnny laughs.

Simon didn't mean it, and you knew. He saw the way you handled things so efficiently and skillfully, whether it be a knife, a gun, intel, missions, or even himself, It's one of the main things he loved and admired about you, though he would never say it.

"I don't know L.T., you forget when she pinned me in seconds last time we sparred." Johnny says.

"I wouldn't underestimate the gal Lieutenant. You've seen what happens to the men who do." Price says, smirking and taking a swig of his drink.

"Who got you around those guards by hacking into the cameras and telling you where to go hm?" You ask Simon.

"You did lass." Johnny says as he lifts his arm to playfully poke your cheek.

You giggle and push his hand away.

"I'm not doubting her, it's just harder than it looks. Don't think she could do it as easily as she says she can."

"That's literally the definition of doubt L.T." Gaz says.

You scoff with your mouth open, smiling in surprise.

"Wow, ok, I see how it is, Lieutenant." You emphasized the title you called him to tease him, as you were the only one who ever called him Simon. Calling him Lieutenant meant you were either being dead serious, angry with him, or teasing him. And Simon would be lying if he told himself he didn't like it when you called him by his ranked position. He also loved how you were the only one who called him by his name.

"Oooohh fuck yer in trouble now L.T." Johnny said.

As the night went on and got older, you could feel your heart getting lighter as you forgot about the stresses of life for a while.

After a few more hours of harmless banter and laughs between the five of you, the men decided to help you clean the common area up and head back to their quarters.

Simon, however, was the last to leave.

As you placed your glass in the sink with the other dishes and glasses, another glass was placed in the sink by another hand.

"Thanks love." Simon said as he gently placed his glass down in the sink next to yours.

"For what?" you said.

"For getting us to forget for a while. For getting me to relax."

Simon never really was one to speak much about anything really. You weren't sure if it was the bourbon speaking but regardless, you melted at his vulnerability he trusted you with.

"You're welcome Simon." You turn to smile at him, both staring in each others eyes for a few seconds in silence.

"But you know what I didn't forget?" You ask, smirk creeping onto your face.

Simon raises his eyebrows in anticipation awaiting your answer.

"That you think I can't shoot a gun bigger than a pistol."

Simon laughs, throwing his head back causing your eyes to lose contact with his honey-colored ones, the sound causing your heart to drop with the weight of your lust like a star falling out of the sky.

"Ok, well, how 'bout you prove me wrong then?" Simon asks, a mischievous look in his eye.

"Challenge accepted, Lieutenant." You said, walking past him and making your way to the shooting range, expecting him to follow.

This time, it was Simon's heart's turn to drop.

-

Simon enters the range after you, and you've already got your safety glasses and headphones on, leaning against one of the dividers of the range with your hands on your hips looking at him as if you've been waiting for hours.

"Well Lieutenant, show me what you think I can't do." You say, and Simon doesn't say anything. He stops in the door frame and after a second, he silently goes to choose a weapon. He picks up a big gun, one of his, purposefully picking one that would be difficult for you just to prove that you couldn't do it. He was such a cocky bitch.

He approaches you with the weapon, and you look at it in his hands, stiffening up a bit at the intimidating sight of it, and Simon chuckles.

"This" Simon says, lifting the gun up for you to get a better look, "is an AR-15. It was created for ad-"

"Advantage over the AK-47." You cut him off, smirking in triumph as you once again catch the soldier in front of you off guard and he looks at you with an amused raised eyebrow.

"Ok smartass. Since you know so much, show me how to hold it then." Simon drops the weapon in your hands and crosses his arms, spreading his legs a little, standing in an even more intimidating position. The gun is heavy and big, causing you to stumble due to Simon catching you off guard this time. It's safety was on, as Simon would never put you in any danger, which is why he was so comfortable with teasing you in this setting.

He laughs to himself, thinking how cute you look with such a big weapon.

You look at the gun, then up at Simon, then to the target in the range. You make your way to one of the spaces between the dividers and lift the gun. It's heavier than you thought, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Simon follows behind, standing behind you with his arms still crossed and legs apart.

"Well go on, if it's so easy." Simon teases.

"Oh relax." You playfully snap back at him.

You lift up the weapon, and look through the sight, aiming at the target.

You look through the sight a bit longer, making sure you're lined up, as you feel Simon's presence even closer.

He comes up behind you, pressing his front against your back as he reaches an arm around to turn off the safety. You lift your head from the sight and lower the weapon a little, giving him room to access whatever he was reaching for.

"Safety is still on sweetheart." Simon says, voice dripping with cockiness as he continues to tease you.

"I knew that." You mumble. "Just testing the sight."

"Mhm sure bunny." He says, the nickname making your eyes widen a bit and your cheeks flush red as you look down at the weapon, not daring to look back at him.

You lift the gun back up, and you feel Simon move behind you once again as he kicks your legs apart and places his hands firmly on your hips. You feel him press his front against you once again, making you gasp.

"Here, spread your legs a bit. Left foot slightly in front of your right." He tells you lowly and softly in your ear, and you let him adjust your body, praying he doesn't feel the increasing heat radiating off of you.

He grips your hips and pulls them back against him so you're pressing directly into him.

"There you go, just like that." He says, and your breath hitches at the suggestive words and how he's handling you.

"The recoil can be a lot, so keeping your hips back and one leg slightly in front will keep you stable when you shoot." He says into your ear, hand still tightly gripping your hips, and you bite your lip and nod your head, afraid to make a sound that could possibly give away how nervous and aroused you were in this moment. You could feel him getting hard behind you, and you could feel how big he was, but you resisted grinding back into him.

Simon released his hold on your hips and brought his hands up and around yours. You noted how big his hands were compared to yours, making you blush yet again. He was so close and just so big compared to you, and you yourself weren't even that small.

"Now, lift this up a little more." He says, lifting the weapon up higher in your grasp.

He moves his left hand up yours up under the barrel of the gun a little more, helping you hold it as his right helps you keep your hand in place off the trigger until ready to shoot.

"There we go, atta girl, just like that." He says, and you swear he's gotta be doing this on purpose now. You feel yourself start to grow wetter between your legs as you start to throb, biting your lip even harder now, trying your hardest to not let out a moan at his words.

"Now." he says, as he moves his finger over yours to place it on the trigger.

"Shoot." He says into your headphone-covered ear.

As you press the trigger, the recoil thrusts you back, making you grind back into Simon abruptly, and he lets out a soft groan, and his hands fly back to your hips after you shoot. His noise almost distracting you from your perfect shot on the target, hitting the bullseye.

"Ha!" You yell out in excitement seeing your successful shot.

"Look Simon! bullseye!" You giggle and jump a little with joy, forgetting that your ass is literally pressed up against Simon's cock through his cargos. Your ass rubs against him as you hop and he ruts his hips into you and lets out a sharp moan, squeezing your hips again.

"Good job bunny." He says and smiles, and you remember the position you both are in, and you feel the shyness creep back into you.

You turn your head around to look up at him, still holding the weapon with both hands.

"Told you I could do it." You smirk up at him.

You notice Simon doesn't move from his position and how his hands don't leave their place on your hips. You're not oblivious to what he's doing either, but it's fun to tease him and act like you have no clue.

You go to turn the safety off, and as you do, you lean forward a bit more than needed just to press against him again, and you feel him twitch in his pants this time.

You turn around, and place the gun in his hands that left your hips for a second due to your new position.

"What's the matter Lieutenant, can't handle being wrong?" You tease.

Simon doesn't say anything and he goes to put the gun away. You turn back around to admire your perfect hit, and soon feel that familiar warmth behind you again as Simon presses himself into you again.

"Can't handle you looking so fucking good all the time and just being so perfect at everything." He says.

You laugh. "Was this your plan hm? To get me down here just to have me alone?" You ask.

"Maybe." Simon answers and smiles into your neck, hands going back to your hips again.

"Slut." You say.

Simon then bends you over the shelf of the shooting range booth as much as he can and he grabs your hair.

"Fuck you're such a tease aren't you?" He says.

You moan at the feeling of him manhandling you and pressing his weight into you.

"Only to you." You smile.

"God you're so fuckin small against me. And that fuckin shirt. Was practically eye fucking you all night." Simon continues to grind into your ass.

You let out a little whine at his words, pressing back into him, feeling him get fully hard this time.

"Yeah? show me what you were thinking of then Lieutenant." You say, and you know this was just the beginning of the night for the both of you.

a/n: There could very possibly be a pt 2 to this. Lmk if y'all would want that 🫣

[another-goblin]

One of Dr. Ratio's PhDs is in Natural Theology, where he published the work "Aeons: A Natural Phenomenon" and got hailed as the "most sacred prophet of Aeon non-theism" (basically, the way I understand it, "Aeons exist, but they are not special, they are not gods")

So it's not just "Stop worshipping geniuses yall", it's "Stop worshipping Aeons" too. Which is quite ballsy.

Then I did a little research about the meaning of "non-theism", and it can mean different things, but look at this quote I found on the "non-theism" Wiki page (by Pema Chödrön, a Buddhist nun):

Theism is a deep-seated conviction that there's some hand to hold […] Non-theism is relaxing with the ambiguity and uncertainty of the present moment without reaching for anything to protect ourselves […] Nontheism is finally realizing there is no babysitter you can count on.

Does this remind you of something?

Dr. Ratio: ...but even a life marked by failure is a life worth living — it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up.

Basically the same idea: don't rely on these higher beings who don't care about you; you'll do better if you realize that you are on your own. 

BTW, the aeons who get personally involved in human affairs tend to do more harm than good, so whether they are actually worth worshipping is a good question for another time.

But returning to the 'Aeon non-theist' thing. What is funnier, him writing this paper after not being accepted into GS (totally not being bitter about failing to get the attention of a certain someone, nope) or before (I wouldn't be surprised by Nous' reaction. "Oh wow. F you too, dude. No Genious Society for you")

On a slightly unrelated note, what "being recognized by Nous" entails anyway? It's not about being an emanator or belonging to the path of Erudition, it's used as a euphymism for "being invited to Geniuos Society." Is Nous involved in it at all? Do they decide whom to invite? Do they send a magical letter to the chosen ones? Imagine Nous considering Ratio but immediately noping out because he's clearly Lan's guy.

But what if Nous isn't involved? What if there's a boring commission that decides whom to invite to GS and then proclaims it as "someone has attracted the gaze of Nous". So again, imagine them considering Ratio, ever-hyperactive, getting 8 PhDs, making discoveries left and right, and teaching dozens of courses. Now imagine him finally being invited to GS: getting a GIANT confidence boost and having access to the Guild resources, starting, like, 10 Simulated Universe-sized projects at the same time. GS just wouldn't be able to handle it.

PS: I'm aware of (and agree with) the prevailing theory that he wasn't invited because he wasn't just seeking knowledge for the sake of knowledge, something something. So don't take the last part too seriously, I'm just being silly.

[luminouslywriting]

Bob headcannon Faking being a man in the easy company then getting discoverd ,and maybe make slightly romantic

Hi hon! This one was super fun :) im steadily working through the requests but I’ve got a huge pile of them haha! Feel free to keep sending me requests though! I love them! More under the cut, cut for length, some light spice and mentions of the female body included, some are platonic and some are not:

Dick Winters:

-Listen, this man clocks it straightaway. He’s practically the leader of Easy Company in Toccoa and he just KNOWS 😂

-That being said, he’s also not gonna confront you about it unless problems arise or you being a woman becomes prevalent. He will, however, keep a closer eye on you and watch your back more. -Becomes your friend genuinely in the hopes that you’ll trust him enough to ask for help when you need it. -The least likely to make a move on you the entire time….but also the one who hides the fact that he has feelings so that you won’t get discovered. -And when you finally actually tell him and he’s not surprised?? He’s just glad that you have someone to talk to and that he can be there for you during all of this. -Probably comes to find you after the war and tells you how he feels

Lewis Nixon:

-Also knows since Toccoa. He’s the intelligence officer and he’s out here side-eying you from day one 👀

-Which means he’s not hovering but he definitely pays attention when you’re mentioned and keeps an eye on whatever you’re up to

-Probably offers you a drink at least once and that’s when information is shared and he’s just like, “yeah?? Tell me something I don’t know lol.” -Also offers to share a foxhole with you and makes sure that you don’t freeze to death. Is actually very soft on you. -Confides in you about his marriage problems and you tell him all about your life back home and what was going on. -Honestly?? It’s giving friends to lovers vibes later down the road. You two would reconnect after some years and fall in love.

Ronald Speirs:

-Finds out on D-Day when you two end up near one another and is not even in the slightest surprised. Because of course you’re here and not back home and suddenly everything makes much more sense. -But because he’s not in Easy, he’s not about to say anything. He does do his best to talk with you when the opportunity presents itself. -Probably actually worries about you during Bastogne and is relieved to be transferred over to Easy so that he can better keep an eye on you/protect you. -You two have a sweet conversation at the church and he promises that he’ll do his best to protect you and keep you from harm. -Honestly, he’s more impressed than anything else and has mad respect for you and what you’re doing. -Won’t admit any feelings until the end of the war though.

Buck Compton:

-Finds out by accident…..in a foxhole….during Bastogne

-It’s a whole mess honestly. There you are just trying to get some things done and he walks in on you and is just 🤯 shooketh tbh

-Treats you like a lady when it’s just the two of you and asks if you’ll share the foxhole so that he can better protect your decency/honor haha. -You two become good friends and he’s real worried about you but then he ends up going to the field hospital after Bill and Joe get hit. -So you write him faithfully the entire rest of the war and you help him get through a lot of his trauma and figure out his feelings. -He has a soft spot for you forever.

Carwood Lipton:

-You know that scene where he gets injured and it’s a whole panic because he’s worried he’s lost a certain appendage? Now imagine that in reverse. -The minute he realizes that you are not, in fact, a man, he’s speechless, befuddled, panicked, and in slight shock

-GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!? This poor man has a whole internal panic about it because clearly you need to talk with him and figure some things out. -He really wants to tell Winters about the entire thing but you convince him that it won’t happen again and that you’ve got this

-Big brother Lipton activated; he’s out here being a total helicopter parent and concerned af about your life decisions

-From this point on, you basically have someone at your side 24/7 and who literally adores you in the most platonic way.

Joe Liebgott:

-He accidentally finds out when he sneaks into the showers in Toccoa and finds you there (cue the Spider-Man meme haha)

-Immediately panics and closes his eyes and is just freaking out because why the hell is there a girl here??? -Wants to tell people but is actually very good at keeping the secret. Probably becomes a Lowkey guard-dog in order to better watch your back. The last thing anyone needs is the wrong sorta person finding out that you’re not a man. -Besties who slay with humor….and who have each other’s backs. -Is always willing to share food and blankets and supplies with you. He’s very sweet on you. -Absolutely wants to be with you after the war is over.

Donald Malarkey:

-Again, total accident that he finds out?? He goes to collect laundry after D-Day and finds you with some stained red clothing that you’re trying to clean. It’s an oof moment. -At first, the girl math is not mathing and he’s confused. -But he has sisters and automatically becomes a safe place for you to go to and someone who you can rely on or talk to. -He’s a great foxhole partner and someone easy to talk to. He wants to hear about why you wanted to be a paratrooper and is a great help with helping you act like a guy. -Relies on you a ton during Bastogne and afterwards….appreciates your support and values your friendship. -And yes, he has a tiny crush on you haha.

Eugene Roe:

-Figured it out pretty quickly, a la menstrual cycle 👀 but also isn’t getting paid enough to confront you about it?? -So if you come to him and talk to him about the issues, then you two will be good friends. He drinks respect women juice in plenty so there’s no problems there. -The bestie vibes are immaculate and he simply adores you. You might be the person to get him to talk most. -He’s always the one who patches you up or helps you with what you need. And when you offer to share your foxhole with him, he’s a little bit of a blushing mess. -Has had a crush on you for most of the time he’s known you and does have a few small pet names in French. -You two probably start a secret relationship and are engaged before you even get back to the states. And yes, everyone is baffled haha.

Bill Guarnere:

-Super in love from day 1 he found out you were a girl? A girl who can handle herself and keep up with the men? Now that’s impressive. -Also found out by accident and it’s because he saw the blood in your sheets and was *le gasp*

-Is very good at keeping the secret and tries to push you to keep going and encourages you to accomplish the things that are hard. -He’s a great support system and an even better guard dog haha. -Is super respectful and doesn’t make a single move on you….so babe, you gotta kiss him first in that snowy foxhole. -Write to him after he gets injured….you may just come out of the war with a husband haha.

Joe Toye:

-Finds out accidentally when trying to help you with an injury and immediately just feels guilty for being mean to you lol

-Honestly? This man will never breathe a word of your secret. He’s a great alibi for feminine issues and will back you up with whatever lies you need haha. -Is very sweet on you but also treats you like one of the guys?? He’s a weird mix of trying to help you feel like yourself and your alter-ego

-Always offers to share or help you with whatever you need

-Probably shares a foxhole with you and tried to keep spirits up in any way he can. -Fully intends to marry you if the both of you make it through the war.

George Luz:

-Cannot keep the secret for the life of him….or do you thought?? -He finds out accidentally once you guys get to Hagenau and you sneak out to the showers way later than everyone else 👀

-He’s the pikachu meme truly….just shocked and doesn’t know how to treat you then?? He’s going to need a learning curve to figure out how this works. -Is honestly a ride or die bestie for you at this point and wants to hear ALL the tea about how and why you did it. -Falls in love with you super easily and asks if you’ll write him when you get home

-Surprises you once you’re home and asks you out on a date :)

[cynical-rain-frog]

Albedo x fem? Reader

Themes: fluff, angst, unrequited love (but is it really? *winks*), misunderstandings (but they aren’t annoying)

Summary: You love Albedo but he starts falling in love with Lumine.

Story notes: this starts as fluff which turns into angst which then turn back into fluff. THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!!

Author’s notes: This is my first time writing something this long so I apologize for any spelling errors, grammar errors, or format errors! It is not proofread. Also I kinda wrote this for myself so I imagined a Fem reader but I’m pretty sure the reader’s gender is never mentioned. Please don’t be too harsh but give me tips on things that don’t make sense with the story or aren’t very satisfying! Enjoy!

You loved Albedo. How could you not? He was the first person you met when you came to Mondstadt and although he seemed unfeeling and cold on the outside; he was actually very attentive and sweet. You knew he was capable of love. I mean, he clearly loved Klee, So why couldn’t he love you too?

You would spend hours upon hours with Albedo in his lab in dragonspine. You would assist him with anything he asked of you while you would talk to him about your life and ask questions about his. You felt comfortable whenever you were with him and he seemed to feel the same.

So how did lumine do it? What was different about her? You had gone back to mondstadt in the early afternoon to look after Klee at albedo’s request. While taking care of her you suggested to get some Cecelias and bring them to Albedo. (his favorite flower) Klee agreed and you went out to starsnatch cliffs to gather them.

As you walked up to his lab, you heard Albedo talking to someone. Rare but not uncommon. Rounding the corner into his lab you saw him giving the famous traveler, Lumine, a smile he had only ever given Klee before. Your heart dropped and you froze in your tracks. Klee ran up to Albedo holding the Cecelias.

Klee: “Albedo! We picked some flowers for you!”

She smiled wide and lifted the flowers up to Albedo’s hands. He smiled a loving smile and accepted the flowers.

Albedo: “Thank you very much Klee. These are very beautiful. Did you have any trouble gathering them?”

Klee: “Nope! Y/n got all the ones that I couldn’t reach!”

Albedo’s gaze lifted up to where you were still standing in the entrance to his lab. You watched his smile change ever so slightly as he locked eyes with you. You jolted and walked forward handing him the rest of the flowers.

Y/n: “h… here”

Albedo: “thank you, Y/n”

He turned back to lumine, who was watching the interaction and studied her for a second before tucking one of the flowers behind her ear. You could see a slight tinge of pink at the tips of his ears and you knew it wasn’t because of the cold. You stayed silent as he chatted with Klee for a few minutes before you headed back down the mountain with her. As you walked you felt tears welling behind your eyes. “Why were you so upset? It’s not like you owned him.” you thought to yourself.

The next day you had fleeting hope that the occurrence with lumine was just momentary attraction and nothing more. You were alone with him in the lab again when he suggested you become his apprentice. He could teach you alchemy and help you apply to the knights of favonius. Spending even MORE time with Albedo while also being useful? Yes please!

The weeks that followed were filled with long days learning alchemy with Albedo. To your surprise you had a natural talent for it, especially when creating healing ointments and potions! Albedo commented how you were a good student and how easy it was to teach you. You had to look away to hide the blush spreading on your face.

One particularly cold morning you got the lab earlier than usual. You walk around the corner to greet Albedo with a “good morning” but stop dead in your tracks when you see lumine is also there, sitting on a table while albedo prepares ingredients for your lesson. They are deep in conversation so they don’t notice you at the entryway. Albedo smiles softly to himself as he talks with lumine. You notice he is talking a lot more than he usually does with you though you can’t hear a word they’re saying. Your heart is beating too fast. Something inside you tells you it would be very uncomfortable if you intrude right now, so you decide to wait right outside the lab until the time you usually arrive. You step outside into the crisp cold air and sit down, bringing you knees up to your chest. You look up at the gray overcast sky and snow starts to lightly fall around you. You think back on how Albedo interacts with lumine. You really love him and as much as you wish you could be the person he smiles at everyday, you know that may not be possible.

Despite it being cold in the mountain, the warmth radiating from the lab keeps you comfortable. Combining that with being up earlier than you’re used to, you feel you eyes growing heavy. The last thing you think about before drifting to sleep is how handsome Albedo is when he smiles.

Your eyes flutter open and you see Albedo at a table working on an experiment. He isn’t wearing his coat and you feel very warm. You look around and realize you're sitting on a chair near the alchemy table in the lab. Lumine isn’t anywhere to be seen. You shift slightly and notice you have extra clothing on. It’s Albedo’s coat. Why does he have to get your hopes up like this?

You sigh and he turns his head to look at you.

Albedo: “Ah. Good morning, Y/n.” Y/n: “Albedo…? How did I get here?”

He shrugs and replies bluntly.

Albedo: “I carried you inside. You would’ve caught a cold if you stayed out there.”

Y/n: “Oh. Thank you.”

You’re searching for something else to say. Something to keep the conversation going, but you can’t find any words. There is a minute long silence between you two as Albedo finishes writing the results of his experiment. He stands up and walks over to you. You assume he’s going to ask for his coat back so you start to take it off. He notices you doing this and stops you.

Albedo: “you can keep it on if you want.”

Before you can respond he hugs you tightly.

Y/n: “wha-?”

You are surprised but not upset. You hug back. After a minute Albedo moves away while still holding your shoulders. When he speaks next his voice is soft and full of relief.

Albedo: “why did you do that? I was so worried when you didn’t show up for your alchemy lessons.”

Y/n: “I… thought it would be awkward if I intruded in your… moment with Lumine”

Albedo: “My… Moment…? Oh. You mean the conversation I was having with her? Yes that probably would been quite awkward for you.”

Upon seeing your wounded expression he explained further.

Albedo: “But not for the reason you probably think. You see, Y/n… I….”

He stops talking and sighs. His cheeks turn a slight pink.

Albedo: “Y/n. I think I am in love with you.”

Y/n: “What?! But- but I thought you liked Lumine?”

Albedo: “Ah… are you referencing the day where I tucked the flower in her hair? In retrospect I will admit that was childish of me... I was upset that you hadn’t noticed my feelings so I tried to make you jealous.”

Y/n: “What about the conversation you had this morning? I clearly saw you look very much in love while talking to her.”

Albedo: “We were talking about you.”

His words make your face heat up.

Y/n: “So this whole time… you were in love with me?”

Albedo: “Yes.”

Albedo gently tucks your hair behind one ear. With his other hand he puts a Cecelia behind that same ear. He leans in close and kisses your cheek.

Albedo: “Think of that as my apology.”

His smile is full of love. So YOU were the one he was in love with the whole time. You think about how you acted and feel silly.

Y/n: “Apology accepted.”

You lean in kiss him.

[abiiors]

three's a party 🍸// george daniel x reader x ross macdonald

a/n: hi. thank you so much to my darlings @bookish-strawberry and @ughgoaway for helping me with some of the scenes!!! this is quite tame compared to some of the others i read for "research" but it is still quite...porny. this note is so long, but i'm just rambling because i'm nervous!!! anyway, here, have this unholy piece of writing with barely any plot

cw: threesome (obv), "good girl" and other feminine words/pronouns, uhhhh...yeah, just. general nastiness.

wc: 3.6k

the pub lights are dim, ambient. people chatter around you in low volume, a friendly humdrum of couples out on date nights and old friends catching up, it’s nice—this place. the food is good, the alcohol is even better; the playlist is just the right mix of sensual and exciting. absolutely perfect for a casual first date.

except for the man in front of you who drones on and on and on about one thing or the other—none of which you have given two shits about in your entire existence. but now you have to sit there and pretend that the local football team—the bulls or the foxes or some other inane animal—are the most riveting conversation you’ve ever had. 

you also have to pretend like you haven’t been checking out other people sitting at the bar, laughing and joking and having way more fun than you in general—the group of drunk girls out on a friday night, couples on dates, two men sat at the edge of the bar who haven't stopped glancing your way since you first walked in.

a blond and a brunet, one with a sharp, clean-shaven face, the other with a softer face and a thick, dark beard. one with close-cropped and buzzed hair, the other with long hair tied up. two ends of the spectrum, yet they both have the same aura of je ne sais quoi about them. it’s tempting, distracting. and certainly a million times better than whatever’s happening in front of you. 

every time one of them looks over at you, you lower your eyes coyly, pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with your date—nodding along to whatever he’s saying and laughing when he pauses expectantly. it’s truly a testament to his intelligence that he hasn’t caught up to your little game yet. 

the blond man looks at you again, intense eyes and a full pink mouth. his eyes linger, lazily staring you from head to toe in your tight black first-date dress. then out the corner of your eye, you watch him mumble something to his friend. 

he’s a bit subtle, turning only slightly and checking you out from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn’t get caught every time you look over in their general direction. 

your date clears his throat. 

“so i was thinking we could get one more drink and…take this back to my place?” 

well… shit

“i had a lot of fun…” you begin, trying to hide the wince in your words but your date’s face falls as realisation finally dawns. “but i don’t—”

“so you’ve wasted my time then,” he cuts you off, nostrils flaring in anger as he clutches his beer pint harder than necessary. 

“excuse me?”

“bitch,” he spits under his breath yet you hear it clearly. 

all you can do is roll your eyes at his petulance. the glasses clatter as he stands up abruptly, gathering the attention of a few people nearby. you’re beyond feeling any sort of embarrassment; and why should you? it’s not you making a scene. 

“classy,” you mutter, taking a leisurely sip of your aperol spritz.

it’s great, no reason for you to ruin a perfectly good evening for a little bitch baby. in your peripheral vision, the two men snicker. the rational part of your brain knows they’re laughing at an inside joke; nothing to do with you. but your delusional brain can’t stop imagining the two of them listening in on your conversation, smirking at your date’s little temper tantrum. you take your own sweet time finishing your drink after he leaves. he’s already out of your mind before he’s even halfway across the pub. you can finally indulge in your other pursuits after all.

“well, that was a pathetic date."

it's after fifteen minutes when you've sought solace in the first floor balcony of the pub. a few people loiter in the nooks and corners, making out and sneaking quick puffs of cigarettes, some wait for their turn to use the loo. some linger in search of peace.

you focus your attention on the stranger.

his voice is deep, deeper than you would have imagined. there’s a gravelly and rough edge to it that makes his words skitter down your bones. even just the way he walks towards you, slow and leisurely, has you hypnotised and transfixed on him. but you won’t be swayed so easily. 

“are you always this straightforward with strangers?” 

he comes to a stop a few inches away from you and leans against the railing; his body mirroring yours. his spicy cologne permeates the air around you. it's a struggle to not inhale sharply and get a lungful of it. even in your heels, you’re a good few inches shorter than him. 

“no,” he shrugs and the movement makes his arm brush against yours ever so slightly, “i guess you caught my eye.”

you attribute the goosebumps on your arms to the chilly night air even as a small voice in your head reminds you that it’s august. 

“george,” he extends a hand. it’s big, rough-looking with callouses all over his palms. either he’s a gym rat with pretty show muscles, or… you can’t exactly place the or. but it leads to quite a few interesting theories. 

“your…friend didn’t come out with you?” 

the man—george—raises an eyebrow, either at the way you leave his hand hanging in mid-air or at the mention of his friend but he does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. if he even felt any, to begin with.

“why? you’re more interested in my friend?”

a small part of you almost purrs in delight at the tinge of jealousy in his tone. good, possessive men know how to make nights like these into memorable ones. his fingers curl slightly, ready to put the extended hand down. the nicotine stains on them should have put you off a long time ago. instead, you find yourself looking at those fingers; imagining things you really shouldn’t. 

“you always answer questions with more questions?” you bite your bottom lip, letting just the hint of a smile ghost over your mouth. let him work to figure out your tone. your intentions.  

george chuckles deeply, sucking air between his teeth, and about to say something when you hear the second set of footsteps. these are imperceptibly heavier, almost like you know who it is…

a smirk curls up your mouth as george turns around to look at—

“ross…” he says quietly. 

possessive men know how to have wild nights.

possessive men are also…incredibly easy to predict.

george is behind you, pressed up against your naked ass, hard and thick. the only thing that separates you are his cotton brief. it only took you fifteen minutes to decide to take both the men home with you. and judging from the minimum resistance you got from either of them, one thing is clear—this isn’t their first rodeo.

“you feel this, darling?,” george whispers, mouth brushing over the shell of your ear while rolling your nipple softly between his fingers. 

it’s a lot of stimulation. it’s the good kind of stimulation, the kind that has your toes curling and your thighs shaking. and if it weren’t for the other man kneeling between your legs, holding you up with his hand on your hips, you would have fallen to your knees a long time ago. 

“mm–yes, fuck, it feels good,” you moan, head rolling back to rest against george’s chest. your fingers are tangled up in ross’ hair, long graceful fingers twisting and turning traces of his soft hair between them, guiding him as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re nothing but a wet trembling mess. 

ross won’t be outdone so easily. he hums against you, sending vibrations that shoot through your entire body at lightning speed. “is he making you feel better than i am, baby?” he pouts, stopping entirely. 

his beard glistens in the ambient lights of the room as he stares at you with intense, blown-out eyes. a whine escapes you, your fingers tighten in his hair—tugging at it harshly and making him groan. it’s so close to your cunt, enough for you feel it but not close enough. you writhe against george, trying to thrust your hips back into ross’ face, trying to get him to continue. but george tsks. 

“not before you answer him, baby.” his fingers are back to pinching your nipples; pain and pleasure blending in together in a heady mix. “don’t we deserve to know?”

his voice is gruffer than before, barely restrained—a man so used to commanding people that it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. 

ross smirks when you mumble something incoherently, ready to finish what he started but george is not satisfied. “use your words, darling.”

it sends a spark of desperate annoyance through you, clearing the fog in your brain. “ross is better,” you grit out, guiding the man back between your legs smirking at the way george tenses behind you. 

for someone who seems so calm and composed he certainly has a competitive streak…

ross grazes his teeth against you, licking it after—almost like a reward for declaring him the winner. you throw a leg over his shoulder, hissing at the way his tongue has better access now, crying out when he swipes his fingers against your folds almost lazily. 

you suck in a sharp breath, ready to cry out again but the scream dies in your throat. rather, it’s strangled—literally—by george wrapping his free hand around it, applying pressure to the sides. 

“you want to be a brat?” he tsks again, “she wants to be a brat, ross.” 

ross laughs breathlessly, letting go of you for just a second, “you’re just a sore loser.” he smirks, eyes alight with mirth. there’s a hint of danger in them, not the kind you sense in george—one that comes with a touch of sadism. ross’ brand of danger feels more arrogant. someone who knows what effect he has on people, on women. he’s not a taker. he’s a giver. and right now, he looks at you like he’d give anything to watch you fall apart with his name on your lips. 

the almost lack of oxygen has your head spinning, combined with the knot pulled taut in your stomach—it’s almost impossible to stand up, to make your legs hold you up. but that’s what george is here for. 

his fingers adapt a rougher pace, pinching and flicking your nipples, matching ross’s movements. your mind feels like it’s torn both ways, fighting hard to keep track of two sensations, two feelings. it’s too much.

a string of curses fall from your lips. “gonna cum,” you plead, struggling against ross, desperately trying to get more and more and so much more. “can i cum, please. please–fuck.”

“what should we do, george?” ross hums, ignoring you entirely. his nails dig into your ass, feeling up the curves and the firm muscles. you are nothing but a toy in his hands, for him to use and control. all your bossiness from before melts away as soon as george snakes a hand around your waist, stroking ross’ head and guiding it the way he wants to. 

ross doesn’t resist, he only chuckles, making you cry out pleas once again. 

“have you earned it, sweetheart?” george asks, whispery rough voice burrowing on the insides of your skull. 

have you? 

you nod, or try to at least. it’s hard when your head rests limply on his chest, throat gripped between his hands. 

“please, yes. i’ll do what you want, pl–fuck, fuck.”

“whatever we want?” 

“whatever yo–you want.”

“go on then,” george pinches your nipple, twisting it between his fingers, “give him a taste.”

he’s barely halfway through the sentence when you scream out incoherently, falling apart as waves after waves of pleasure hit you all at once. everything goes white for a split second, all that remains is intoxicating pleasure. you have no sense of time, of self. only that one man holds you up as the other laps at your folds greedily, licking away every last drop of what you have to offer. 

“want a taste?” ross smirks. his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere under water. you’re unsure if you can stand up on your own just yet. vestiges of the orgasm course through you, heady and hot. “she’s fucking sweet, george, like honey.”

ross stands up, right in front of you, tall and imposing. and for the first time, you’re between both of them, feeling their sweaty skin on yours, inhaling them greedily.

“open your mouth,” he commands, fingers taking hold of your chin and roughly tilting it up. you know what’s coming as you watch the sinister half-smile on his face. and oh how delightlfully right you are. 

the moment you open your mouth for him, ross spits in it; saliva mixed with your slick still coating his tongue. 

“good girl,” he whispers, turning your face to george who captures your mouth in a rough kiss. his tongue flicks on the insides of your mouth, searching, tasting you and ross together. he moans, satisfied. “now about that promise…”

“be a good girl and get on all fours” 

it’s a shock to you how ross takes charge when he wants to. george doesn’t contradict him, he only watches with vague amusement as you try holding yourself up on shaking arms and legs, drenched in sweat and thighs sticky with your own slick. 

your entire body buzzes with adrenaline, shivers racking down your spine, still needy for more and more, still wanting to please the men who have been pleasing you for… what feels like hours now. 

“now,” george says, walking up to you and stopping just in front of you, “you can take both of us, can’t you?”

you peer up at george, tall and imposing george who looks at you with such blatant lust that it makes a tiny moan slip out of you. you can, you have been dying to do just that. now you look at him through your eyelashes and through the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, falling in your eyes. 

“yes,” you nod eagerly, “please, yes.” 

the men smile, all teeth and hardness and intensity—it’s intoxicating. almost hypnotising, you get on your knees, hand drifting between your legs one more time just to feel the friction again but ross is quicker. 

“ah–ah!” he quickly catches your wrist, before it’s even reached past your navel. “that’s our job, darling. all you need to do is get on all fours and look pretty.”

“but she already is so pretty,” george tsks, palming himself through his briefs. his cock is a stark, thick outline that stands out, making you drool. if he already looks so big and delicious then how good would it be to feel him on your tongue and stretching out your mouth?

the moment stretches on—you on all fours, on trembling, shaky limbs, waiting there like a good little slut for either one of these men to fill you up. 

george continues to play with himself, fingers dipping in and out of the waistband of his underwear, touching and teasing. until finally he pulls his boxers down. you watch, transfixed as george shamelessly pumps himself in front of you, head thrown back, throaty moans echoing in the room as he slides his fist around his cock. you stare, eager and waiting, almost leaning forward. 

behind you, ross is silent. you can almost imagine him staring at the scene in front of him in awe and lust. you try to imagine it from his perspective. your dripping swollen cunt right in front of him growing wetter still the more you watch george. 

“don’t tease,” you almost whine, unable to take more of this. you need to know what he tastes like. and you need it now. 

“eager, are we?” george asks, walking up to you. “are you not pleasing her enough, ross?” he tuts and ross chuckles; throaty and distracted. 

you get little warning before you feel ross sliding a finger up your slit, lazily collecting your wetness and then the tell-tale sound of his tongue lapping it up from his fingers. it’s filthy and disgusting, it makes you arch your back and drives you almost crazy with want. 

“i could do better than your hand.” your grin matches george’s who comes to a stop in front of you. 

“guess she likes me better, ross.”

ross huffs, “we’ll see.”

before you have the chance to respond, ross draws a hiss of pleasure out of you. his length drags against your cunt, almost between your ass cheeks, sliding just the tip in. no further. red, hot need spears through you. if the men are determined to tease and taunt you then it’s for you to take matters into your own hands. 

before george can registers it, you cup a hand around his ass, pulling him forward until his cock practically rests on your face. 

a thick vein runs along the side, pulsating, practically inviting you to trace it with your sharp fingernail. you let your tongue swirl over his slit, humming at the salty taste of his precum. george moans as the vibrations of your hum hit. ross moves his hips slowly, almost pulling out before slamming into you fully. the force of it has you choking on george, gagging around him, drooling messily. 

“breathe,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do as he tells you, relaxing your throat more and letting his weight rest on your tongue. 

the sides of your mouth burn from the stretch, black, glittery mascara tears stain your face. and yet all you care about is this, here, now. it’s fullness like you’ve never experienced before, delicious and thick, drawing out gasps and moans from you that mix with his grunts.

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, “isn’t she ross? doesn’t she feel fucking great?” 

ross hums behind you, thrusting into you again at a steady pace. shameless need and lust pools in your belly, bleeds through your veins as you trace along george’s cock with your tongue. his fingers remain tangled in your hair, guiding you, commanding you to please him as he wishes.

you hollow our your cheeks, licking and sucking until his hips move in much the same pace as ross’ do. 

ross’ hand snakes up your waist, between your legs again, finding your clit again to rub and pinch, to make you whine. each one of his flicks makes you moan around george, sending small hums of pleasure right up his spine. he looks blissed out, head rolling and eyes half-lidded. a surge of pride runs through you at the sight. 

ross’ fingers dig into your hips, bruising the soft flesh. twinges of pain intertwine with sparks of pleasure as he pushes in, stretching you out and filling you in. 

“taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praises. the term of endearment from his mouth makes your knees weak and your legs tremble but ross holds you up, slamming into you until he bottoms out again and again. 

flesh slaps against flesh—rhythmic sounds punctuated by guttural grunts. the position you’re in allows ross to thrust deeper each time, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have had you mewling by now. but that doesn’t mean you don’t let out the occasional whimpers as you continue to bob your head up and down george’s dick. 

the man is close, you can tell. his cock twitches and spasms in your mouth. he has lost some of his rhythm, hips bucking wildly as he chases his pleasure. you can’t help but caress the base of his cock with your hand, moving it lower to softly squeeze his balls. 

“shit–shit,” he curses loudly, “do that again.”

so you oblige, letting your nails graze on the sensitive skin. within seconds, you feel his hold tightening in your hair. george fucks your mouth with wild abandon, careless thrusts—he couldn't care less about the drool dribbling down your chin, about your tear-stained face. the burn around your lips.

“gonna cum, darling, doing so well,” he grounds out. your own body mirrors the feelings as ross continues to thrust faster and faster. 

the knot in your stomach tightens, blood pumps through your veins, infused with lightning until the bitter-salty taste of cum fills your mouth. george cums, groaning loudly and shooting spurts of his release down your throat that you lap up hungrily. some of it dribbles down the side of your chin but you don’t swallow just yet. instead, you open your mouth wide open for him to have a look. 

“you’re killing me,” he swears, trying to get a grip on himself. only then do you swallow, whining loudly when ross pinches your clit, kneading the bundle of nerves in rough circles. 

“go on,” he commands, “cum for us. wanna feel you around me before i fill you up.”

it only takes one more thrust from ross before you’re almost falling down face first from the force of the orgasm that hits you. vaguely you’re aware of ross cumming inside you, of it spilling down your thighs, mixing with your own release. vaguely you’re aware of george falling to his knees in front of you, legs still spasming as he watches you fall apart again and again. 

you cry out something unintelligent—perhaps their names, perhaps something else. the world blacks out, until slow, blurred images creep back into your line of sight. 

the beginning of the night, the pathetic date is long gone from your mind. right now all you can think of is ecstacy.

and then perhaps a round two.

lemme know what you think <3

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[freyito]

ʜᴏᴀʀᴅᴇʀ

✭ pairing(s): estinien varlineau x gn reader

★inspo: something my friend said that STUCK stuck so HARD

✩ in which: dragons tend to hoard the things most precious to them.

✧ a/n: need to get this out of my system okay. i need to. i promise you there's a luocha fic and like more fics up i PINKY PROMMY. i wanna write so bad but ffxiv also has me by the neck

🗒 cw: gn reader, he's just jelly (but not like yandere... he's silly), ENDWALKER SPOILERS, short n sweet, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.6k

Estinien is a jealous man. It is not something you can genuinely tell, seeing as he plays it off. But inside, he’s pouting and crossing his arms, sometimes even imagining him whisking you off. He is the most calm and collected man you know, blunt in almost all aspects. Unafraid to speak the truth, except when it comes to you.

He himself has noticed the changes with his behavior, as small as they may be, ever since he had ‘absorbed’ Niddhogg. When he fell for you, he had felt so oddly attracted to you, a constant pull that lured him in closer, and closer. One that he did his best to ignore, but clearly couldn’t, given the current day, and that shiny ring on your finger.

Regardless of your known status, Estinien cannot help but be jealous. The gods themselves could dote on you and he would still pout like a little kid. He would give them the dirtiest of looks, but turn his head away and act painfully unaware of what he was doing if you looked his way. But over the better part of a year, you’ve learned to read his tells. His voice deepens ever so slightly, his eyebrows furrow, and he’ll adamantly deny the fact that he was jealous. Which, obviously, does nothing to hide his lie. A man of his standing? The Azure Dragoon? Jealous? No, no. He isn’t, he could never be jealous.

And yet, here he is, doing his best not to show any outward signs of jealousy. While you were seated with your friends at the Last Stand, with Estinien brooding nearby. He wasn’t stalking you, in fact, you had enthusiastically invited him. But he chose to stay away, grumbling about protection or something of the sort. Which would seem right of him, given that he had just returned from saving the world. But you knew full well that that wasn’t the case. You were meeting up with friends, to enjoy a comforting meal after believing you were to witness the end of the life you’ve known.

You can almost hear his grumbling and ranting in his head, as you chat and laugh with your friends. It felt lighter, something that had been devoid in the days that had been past. You had been worried sick about Estinien and the Scions, traveling to the edges of the universe was something that felt unfathomable. And to know that Estinien was willingly going on such a venture, it was horrifying. So, when he came back alive and well, you were more than relieved. And it was clear he had worried about you, too. Though he would never tell the scions that, he wouldn’t even admit that he was worried sick about you. Not only is he a jealous bastard, but a stubborn one, too.

However, that does not mean he didn’t show you how much he missed you. The night he returned, all he did was hold you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Barely any words were shared, and any time you shifted underneath him, to simply reach for a blanket or stretch your legs out, he pulled you impossibly closer with a soft huff. To see him being all moody in the corner of your eye while you catch up with friends after the night before… you couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

You can practically read his inner thoughts. ‘Why do they get so close?’, ‘Why do they get to take up their time?’, and you know you’ll remedy his jealousy so easily in a couple more hours. It’s not like he couldn’t sit down with you, but he wasn’t much for PDA either. So watching (and pouting) from a distance was all he chose to do. And you respected it, no matter how silly you thought it to be.

“I missed you,” Estinien grumbles as his hand finds yours, quick to pull you away and towards the Baldesion Annex, fidgeting with your fingers as he does so. His tone is almost mournful, but you know he’s being dramatic. Only with you. “Let’s take a break. I want time with you, and you alone.”

He speaks as if he was really engaging with you and your friends. You can’t help but smile at his clinginess, something that was, again, only shown towards you. Yet he had grown out of his shell over the past couple of years as well, you knew that. Especially when he joined the Scions on their little… adventure. You had never seen him so energetic, normally he was just dark and moody. But he started to smile more, even try and joke, and it was comforting to see. You had found friends with the scions as well, Y’shtola mainly since she had the most sensible tastes out of everyone. The girl-talk with her was amazing, and you had learned things you never even thought of before. Simply the talk of reflections and calamities was enough to make your head spin. But it did boost your ego to know that you had made sense of certain things without being directly in the fight, while your fiancé could barely make heads or tails of it.

You lose yourself in your thoughts, mind bringing back more and more memories, delightful as they were. Before he had left, he had proposed, something you had never thought he would’ve done in a million years. But his proposal was sappy, sentimental, and you swore you caught tears in his eyes. Thinking back on it, it felt almost outlandish. The former Azure Dragoon, knelt before you, rambling on about how much you’ve changed him, his outlook on life, and all he would do for you (which was nothing short of everything).

Before you can dig too deep into your memories or perhaps even shed a tear, Estinien’s pulled you back so easily, pulling your hand up to his face and placing a kiss to your palm. How quick he was to take up a room, yet so calm, he was practically desperate for more attention. Your attention. And he plans on savoring every second he has with you.

It only strikes you as he leads you to the bed. He’s hoarding you. Every bit of jealousy and possessiveness is a part of the shadow of Niddhogg, or whatever is left of it. Estinien he may be, but there were still remnants of a great wyrm in his body, one that tends to keep the most precious things close. You can’t help but be stunned by this revelation, while you could understand different timelines, for years you had wondered just why he could be so possessive with you. Like a dragon from a children’s tale, and it’s pile of gold, you are his charge. Or more simply put: you are the apple of his eye.

He holds you so very close, as he did the night before, lips ghosting against your neck. His breathing is even, deep and measured, his hands settled on your waist. If you were to ask him if he enjoyed spending his time like this, he'd adamantly deny it, saying he prefers training over… cuddling. Such a childish thing, he would say, wave it off, and shake his head. But, of course, actions speak louder than words. He loves you, after all he had been through and seen, he just had the sudden urge to be by you, to feel your skin against his, feel your hands in his hair (which is his favorite feeling, to be cared for, the tender touch of a lover. But he would never admit that), and whisper sweet nothings to you.

Emboldened by his trust in his comrades, Estinien had faced the end of the world head on. And yet, beforehand, there was an uncommon fear, one he could not shake. Farbeit for him to be afraid. But when faced with the Ragnarok, there was a voice in his head screaming at him to turn back. You were in his every thought as he pushed on, worried that your look of concern would be the last thing he ever saw on his face. He had never been scared of death, far from it. That was how life went, if he were to die in his service, to Ishgard, to the Scions, anywhere, then he had no complaints. But suddenly, he couldn’t stand the thought of dying. And every step he took when they ended up in Ultima Thule was a defiant one. He had promised you that he would come back to see the life you two could build with each other, and he was not one to break promises.

Every act he had done since he returned was part of that promise, his jealous brooding included. There was more to living than just living, and that reason was you. He reminded himself of that, and in turn, tightened his arms around you with a soft huff. You could poke fun at him and his jealousy, that you have him wrapped around your finger, scold him for his spending habits, and he’d still want nothing more than to curl up in your arms at the end of the day.

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