#and can you imagine if he was just sitting like that as a natural pose listening to something?

[oftenwantedafton]

wither | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 3/?

words | 7.1k

cw | graphic blood and violence

ao3 link

The being calling himself Steven Raglan grips the edge of the doorframe until the wood rimes with frost.

He exhales and his breath clouds before his mouth, puffs of smoke that finally register and force him to draw back from the brink, reeling in his power. Normally he’s able to keep it in check without even consciously thinking about it, but tonight is a different story.

Tonight you are in his home. In his bed.

You would not be his first indulgence; he has given himself over to carnal desires before. But you are the most innocent one that has come under his wing, unsuspecting of his true nature, trusting him to guide your fate.

It only makes him want you more.

He could take you right now; lay you soft and warm and bare beneath him. Even his cold hands would be made hot inside the furnace of your body.

His fingers rest on the doorknob, beginning to turn it. You’d welcome him inside. He’d seen the desire in your eyes. So what’s stopping him? What causes him to release his grasp of the brushed nickel handle and step back, staring at the wood paneling as if he can see right through it to where you lie?

He has no immediate answer for this.

He remains standing there as if paralyzed for long moments, considering. Perhaps it would be too simple. He likes the thrill of the hunt. This potential conquest lacks challenge.

Or maybe, just maybe, he actually likes you.

The notion is startling enough to grant him freedom of movement again. He returns to the spare bedroom, undressing until only an undershirt and boxers remain, the glasses folded and set on the dresser. The room has never been used. He does not invite guests. You are the only person he’s ever allowed inside his home.

And why is that, precisely? Because you pose no threat? Because you are naive and innocent? Because for the first time in countless years, he might actually feel something that isn’t bloodlust or anger or contempt?

What a strange little ache this is. Foreign. Frightening.

Steve considers his appearance in the mirror on top of the dresser. At the streaks of white mingling with platinum in his beard and hair. The pupils still dilated, hungry with want. The sclera threaded with spidery crimson lines. This human form needs rest. But what dwells within shuns this notion. It drives him to scorn the bed and return downstairs, because there is no sleep to be had; not when he’s like this. Passing by the master bedroom door tests his resolve once again, but he manages the task. Now he is seated in the living room, occupying the couch close to where you had been sitting. He can smell your perfume; detect your heartbeat, rabbit fast on the floor above.

You’re not sleeping yet, either.

He closes his eyes and he imagines you padding barefoot down the stairs. Hovering beside his seated form, your fingers fussing with the hem of the borrowed shirt that kisses the top of your thighs. Climbing onto his lap, straddling his legs. Digging through the layers of his hair, tugging his head backwards. His hands caressing the curves of your buttocks. Your mouth shy and uncertain against his, until passion overtakes you.

Fantasy imagery that crashes through his mind, restless like the unrelenting sea, until dawn.

***

You awaken to find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings.

It takes you several moments to remember where you are. What had happened last night. The club. The alcohol. Yeah, Steve had been right. You do have a headache. You mouth is dry. You feel a little queasy.

Steve.

You sit bolt upright. You’re in his bed. His bed, of all things. Wearing his shirt.

And you’re not alone. Your guidance counselor is sitting beside you, lounging on top of the comforter, his back resting against the headboard, those long legs crossed at the ankles. He’s wearing dark jeans and a long sleeve shirt the color of an evergreen pine.

“Good morning,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be waking up in his bed.

“Hi.” There’s a pleasant aroma in the room. He’s brought you a breakfast tray, you realize: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice. Water and a couple of pills you’re sure are pain relievers, too. The scent of the food is enticing. Okay, maybe you’re stomach isn’t thatupset.

“Hungry?”

“Maybe. You actually made me breakfast in bed,” you murmur in disbelief. You’ve never enjoyed such a thing. That was something you’d only seen in movies. A gesture young children did for their parents as a treat or spouses did for their partners on an anniversary or romantic occasion. It’s considerate of him, you think.

“Sure. Why not? Haven’t you ever had it that way?” He seems amused by your reaction.

“No,” you say, adjusting your position so he can move the tray from the nightstand onto your lap. “How long have you been up? You’re dressed already,” you observe.

“A little while. How are you feeling?”

You take a bite of eggs and a sip of your juice. “Headache. Thirsty. But not terrible.” Your head is actually splitting, even with the dimmed light in the room due to the curtains still drawn over the windows. But you’re not going to admit it. He’s smug enough as it is. And you’re more than a little embarassed. You hope you hadn’t done anything too stupid last night. You don’t think you did. You wonder how long he’d been sitting beside you in bed with you slumbering, unaware. The food is still warm so you suppose it can’t have been all that long.

“You’ll feel better after you eat. You need to stay hydrated. Keep drinking water today.”

You point at him with a slice of buttered toast. “What about you? Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“I’m fine for now. I’m not much for eating at this hour.”

“What time is it, anyway?” There’s an alarm clock on the nightstand beside you but you’re too occupied with consuming your gifted meal to spare a glance.

“Around seven.”

You sample the bacon and sigh happily. Crisp without being overdone. Everything is just the way you like it. “You’re a good cook,” you praise.

“That’s generous. I would say adequate. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

You hum over the last bite of food. You’ve completely cleared your plate. “So what are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

The guidance counselor tips his head back to rest against the quilted headboard. He reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose, bumping the Aviators out of place, and you think, for the first time since you’ve met him, that he looks weary. Almost fragile.

Then the moment passes and he’s facing you again, looking confident and put together as always.

“Nothing for today. I’m working tomorrow evening.”

“You’re lucky you’re off tonight. I have to work. And tomorrow afternoon, too.” You readjust the silverware on your tray, just to occupy your hands while you think of something else to say to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you actually like your jobs? Either of them?”

A faint smile ghosts his lips. “They have their benefits.”

“Such as?”

“Well, if we’re talking the guidance position, influencing fates. Shaping destinies. Aiding decisions that will determine the course of an individual’s future. It’s a powerful ability.”

“I still don’t know what I want to do with mine.” You empty the glass of juice, swallowing the pills and chasing that mouthful with a gulp of water. Even that’s good. Filtered, not from the tap. “What about being a security guard? What’s good about that?”

“That’s more in line with my enjoyment of the evening hours. And the aforementioned people watching.”

“What do you look for when you people watch? What catches your eye?”

He tilts his head, considering. “It’s less to do with physical appearance and more with their, I guess you could call it an aura.”

“But you said you’re not psychic. You can’t read people’s minds. So how do you know? How do you see someone’s aura?”

“It’s not something I can readily explain.”

You frown, not sure if the older man is being serious or not. “What do you see when you look at me?” You challenge. It’s not the first time you’ve asked. He hadn’t responded before, that first day in his office. Maybe now he would.

“Someone with potential.”

“For what? That sounds very vague.”

“Intentionally. You’re not getting out of that assignment. There’s a reason I issued it. Working your way through it is part of the process. Are you finished?”

You nod and he lifts the tray and sets it back on the nightstand. Of course he always manages to bring everything back to that task he’d issued. You really don’t have the faintest idea what career path you’d like to pursue.

Now that there is no longer the meal to occupy you, you find yourself feeling uncertain again, the sudden lull in conversation dragging uncomfortably. Your gaze flits back to find his eyes regarding you solemnly and you wonder what is going on in that strange mind of his. “What am I doing here, Steve?” You inquire softly.

“You asked me to bring you here.”

“Yes, but…that’s not what I mean. I don’t mean why I’m physically here, I mean…What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” His lips twitch in amusement and you feel your cheeks flushing. “At present, I’m enjoying your company.”

“You don’t think this is strange? Bringing a student home to your bed?”

“Strange is a relative term. Given the circumstances of last night, it seemed the responsible thing to do. I could hardly leave an intoxicated, provocatively dressed young woman alone at a nightclub she’d entered illegally, could I?”

“Provocatively dressed?” You repeat. “Seriously?”

“It’s not meant as a criticism or an insult. Just an observation.”

“Might as well say I was dressed like a slut,” you mutter.

“No. That’s something quite different. The allure isn’t in one that openly advertises with the certainty that, if you’ll pardon the crude suggestion, they’ll ‘give up the goods’. It’s the obvious innocence and naïveté that appeals to the wrong sorts.”

You wonder if he counts himself as one of the members of that latter group. His words and his behavior don’t always sync. You shake your head in frustration. “I’m just confused.”

“By what I’m doing?”

“By what you’re not doing,” you correct. “I don’t know how to read you.”

“So what is it that I’m not doing that you expect me to?”

“I don’t know,” you sputter in frustration. “It just seems like, if you’ve already crossed all these other lines, why not just commit to it fully?”

“You’re circumventing what you really want to say very neatly.”

“Steve,” you groan in exasperation.

“If you can’t even say it, then you’re certainly not ready for it.”

You rake a hand through your hair, inwardly cringing when you feel the distinct disarray of what must be horrible bedhead. “Fine. I’m wondering why you haven’t tried to put the moves on me yet.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes.”

“You think I don’t want to?”

“I…” You hesitate, mentally tripping over that query. “Do you want to?”

The blue topaz eyes sparkle. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

“Only if it was the truth.”

“Then: yes.”

“Oh.” You’re a little overwhelmed with all of this verbal sparring. Your head is still throbbing. You want to brush your teeth. Take a shower.

Be pinned beneath him again. Helpless.

“The reason,” he says, casually shifting a hand from where it’s been folded with its partner on his lap down to the narrow space between you, “is not simply because it is considered wrong. Immoral. Improper. I don’t truly care about any of those things, even though I’ve taken great pains to maintain an image of decency up until now. This role I’ve adopted is comfortable. Convenient. Entertaining at times, even.

But the deeper reason, you see, as you peel back the layers,” he elaborates, his fingers curling into the fabric and tugging, jerking the blanket off of your thighs, eliciting a startled gasp from you, “is because once I begin down this path, I won’t stop. There will be no further discussion. No debate. No denial. And I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet.” His tone is still light, almost playful, but there is a heat in his eyes that makes you wither.

You gulp nervously. “Oh.” The sound barely issues from your mouth. A bare flick of his fingers and he’d been touching your skin. His borrowed shirt barely extends past your underwear. Had you really been parading around in front of him wearing this last night?

It would be so easy for that hand to move. To skim beneath the ebony fabric. Travel such a short distance to the place you need him most. You want, and the desire makes your mouth flood with saliva. He’s so close. He’s right there. He said he wants you.

He also said he won’t stop. You know what that means.

“Am I correct in that assumption?”

His voice startles you from your musings. “I…I guess so,” you stammer. Coward. Your hands clench into fists. One word. One word is all it would take. Would he be gentle? Rough? Quiet? No, not him. The man loved hearing himself talk. You imagine there would be quite the discourse. Comments. Praise. Bragging. Probing questions during the throes of passion. Promises. Filth. A tirade of words whispered and growled and purred and crooned into your ear. That wicked mouth breathing hot against your skin as he claimed you.

Those deft hands would know exactly how to take you apart.

“You guess so?”

The good humor and patience seem to have evaporated in a hurry. There’s something acidic in his tone. Impatient. Displeased.

“You’re right,” you manage, forcing the words out. They’re not the ones you want to utter. But they’re safer.

Steve’s tone instantly lightens and the intense expression on his features gentles, so swiftly that you wonder if you hadn’t imagined it had been any other way. “So, whenever you’re ready, I’ll bring you home. You can borrow some sweatpants to wear on the way if you don’t feel like getting back into that dress. You’re out of luck for the shoes, though.” He flexes his feet, the dark sock covered toes waggling. Large feet. Like his hands. Maybe like other things, too. You’re blushing again.

“I can wear the dress home,” you mumble.

“Fine. I’ll leave you to it, then. Just come down when you’re ready.”

The bearded man stands, pausing a moment to stifle a yawn and stretch, eliciting a few pops as his arms reach impossibly far before he exits the room, taking the breakfast tray with him.

You slip out of bed as soon as the door closes, quickly getting changed in the bathroom. Your appearance in the mirror after you’ve shucked off the older man’s shirt and pulled your dress back into place confirms what you’ve already suspected: your eyes are bloodshot, and your hair is a tousled mess. You look, quite frankly, like shit. Certainly not like some hot young seductress wavering about whether to begin a torrid fling with her guidance counselor.

You are so out of your depth here.

You retrieve your boots from where they’ve been stashed, resolving to put them on after you’ve made it downstairs. You find Steve seated on the couch in the living room, one arm draped leisurely across the back.

“How come you made me walk upstairs in these last night?” You gripe, tugging the first boot on after you sink down beside him, keeping one cushion width of distance between you.

“Because you wanted them. And that means accepting what comes with them. The good and the bad.”

“Another lesson?” You do a half ass job on the laces but you don’t really care. You’re feeling rather bitter about the entire experience suddenly. Embarassed. Regretful. You should have pushed harder last night. Been more flirty. Blamed your behavior on your intoxication. Now you’re sober and you feel lousy and you’re nervous and still sexually frustrated to top it all off.

“Perhaps I was expecting you to stumble. Hence why I was just behind you to catch you if the need arose.”

You pause, glancing at him. “So you wanted me to fall.”

“Is that so terrible?” You shake your head, beginning to work on donning the second piece of footwear. “Want some assistance?”

“No.” You actually do. You want him kneeling in front of you again. Those careful fingers on your calves. But you’re not going to admit it. You wish he wasn’t being such an infuriating gentleman. What kind of a man brings a young woman home to his bed and does absolutely nothing? Doesn’t even attempt to take advantage?

He’s just being careful, you reason with yourself. If you changed your mind, if you confessed to someone…the repercussions would be severe. That has to be why he’s leaving the ball in your court.

“Every action has a consequence. You wanted to wear impractical boots, hence the struggle. You wanted to drink, hence the headache.” When you straighten after finishing tying the final boot’s laces, you find the man suddenly much closer to you. He’s somehow shifted across that center cushion without you even noticing. “You wanted to draw pictures of me in your notebook. Dance with me. Get in my car and ask to come home with me. Sleep in my bed. And then dare to ask why I’ve not defiled you when you yourself admitted you’re not actually ready for that. It’s not me you should be upset with; it’s yourself.”

You stare at him open mouthed. “You’re really going to turn this around on me? I’m a teenager. A high school student. You’re an adult. You’re supposed to know better.”

“Knowing is one thing; doing quite another. You’ve got a habit of shifting blame to others, I’ve noticed. Expecting me to be your conscience.”

“I don’t do that,” you protest.

One eyebrow raises. “No?”

“If you think so little of me, why are you even wasting your time with me?”

He tilts his head to one side, considering you. “How many people do you suppose I’ve invited into my home since I moved here?”

“What? I don’t know.” You shrug your shoulders, irritated by this abrupt shift in conversation topic.

“None. You’re the first. The only I would even consider. Let that sink in for a moment.”

“So I’m supposed to be grateful?”

His features darken, his tone suddenly severe. “Yes. Yes, you should be. When I allow you to come here. When I intervene on your behalf. When I protect you—”

“—Is that what you consider this? Protecting?”

“You’re the one who rejected me. Not the other way around. So this hostility is uncalled for.”

You take a deep breath, then let it out in a rapid, deflated rush. He’s right. And you absolutely hate it. “I didn’t reject you,” you respond quietly.

“What would you call it, then?”

“I don’t know, Steve. I’m a little overwhelmed here, okay? I’m not used to this. Any of this. Going out and drinking and dancing and then crashing at a guy’s house and, you know, spending the night in their bed and being told I’m desired and it’s up to me to decide when boundaries we’re not supposed to be crossing get trampled over,” you finish in a breathless rush.

“That’s part of being an adult: making difficult decisions that result in very serious consequences. If you’re going to act the part, you need to own up to that.” His voice is suprisingly gentle, and it makes everything feel so much worse. You’re guilty on top of everything else. You feel like you’ve let yourself down. Let him down. And you’re not sure which is worse.

“You know what’s really pathetic? I don’t have any close friends. Any friends at all, really. I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m not popular or athletic or pretty. People usually ignore me.”

“Those people are fools,” he replies, the disdain clear in his voice. “Do you imagine I’d prefer someone like that vapid cheerleader classmate that sought to embarrass you? That level of immaturity and pettiness holds no appeal for me. And even if it did; you cannot exist based solely on other people’s perceived impressions of you. They’re not your personal mirror. Don’t worry about what others think. Be the person you want to be.”

You pick at a piece of lint on your dress. “It’s easy for you to say because you don’t have to worry about this kind of stuff anymore.”

“You only have a few months of high school left. Trust me when I tell you that none of these people are going to matter in your future endeavors. They’re merely fellow travelers until you part ways and begin the next cycle of your life journey.”

You groan. “Now you really sound like a cheesy guidance counselor.”

Steven grins. “Sometimes the job bleeds through into personal life. Just think of it as a bonus that doesn’t detract from your classroom time.”

“I’d rather get out of class. Especially if it’s US History. Speaking of which, I have a test on Monday to study for,” you realize out loud.

“Then we should get you home soon, hmm? Especially since you have work this weekend as well.”

You sigh and nod. “I’m ready to leave now.”

***

In the past, there had been rules that governed the reaper’s actions.

A predestined list of those who were to be vanquished. An ordinance to follow. And he had served those instructions dutifully. For countless years.

Until he hadn’t.

Until he’d decided to become his own boss and make his own commandments. Choose who he wanted to grace with his powers. A rogue killing machine. Terrifying in its concept, but he is not quite as reckless as he might otherwise be. He considers his victims carefully. Waits until he finds a suitable one and then strikes when the opportunity is right. It is all very controlled, orderly, calculated.

At least it had been. Until his most recent deviation. Exacting revenge on your behalf. That was very unlike him. Making the killing slow. Personal. An exception in his own rule book.

He will take another life soon. Create a violent end. Bloody. Get his hands dirty. A return to something viciously primitive. He’ll stifle his powers. Dig into flesh. Carve until he’s satisfied.

Steve leans back in the office chair he’s seated at, his eyes sweeping the security cameras, and he thinks about your body pressed against his. Beside him. Beneath him. Those flushed, parted lips. So inviting. Tempting. Yet somehow he’d resisted taking things any further. He still isn’t entirely certain why. What it is that makes him so hesitant, so protective of you, when every instinct urges him to take what he wants.

He pushes back from the desk and rises, heading out to do rounds through the department store. The walking soothes some of his restlessness. There are a group of girls he’s noticed near the cosmetics. Shoving items into purses, thinking their actions have gone unseen. They haven’t.

He approaches silently. The talk and laughter dies down as the first member of the group catches sight of the security guard.

“If you’re going to steal, at least attempt to take something of value.” He inwardly smirks at the startled, guilty expressions mirrored on each youth’s features. Hands dig nervously back into purses and return items to the display shelves: eyeshadows, blush compacts, lip tint. He folds his arms across his chest, glaring. “Get out of here. Next time I’m not going to be so generous.” They depart the aisle at lightning speed.

Not the prey he’s searching for. But he’ll find someone suitable.

He always does.

***

You finish unloading the last of the returns from the shopping cart and glance at your watch. Nearly five. Quitting time.

Your weekend being home alone had gone by quickly. After Steve had dropped you off, you’d managed to actually get some homework done. It wasn’t easy. You’d still been feeling hungover and you’d been more than a little distracted by the events of Friday evening and Saturday morning.

But you value good grades and you’re not about to surrender your high GPA now just because you’re lusting after your school guidance counselor. So, your nose has been dutifully buried in your textbooks, even during your break at work.

You pull your smock over your head and hang it inside your locker. There isn’t much you store inside there. Your school one is where you add stickers and magnets and mini posters. Hang little charms. This one is bland and utilitarian. Devoid of personality.

You retrieve your backpack and shut the door, securing the padlock before exiting the break room. You doubt anyone wants to take your required work attire, but old habits die hard.

Your parents would be home soon, finally returning from their weekend trip. You’d made a little effort to do housework that morning. Ran the vacuum around. Made sure the dishwasher was empty. At least when you got home you could just relax. Mentally prepare yourself for your exam tomorrow. For being back at school. Where Steve would be, too.

No matter how hard you try to focus, the older man keeps invading your thoughts. You hadn’t slept well last night. Restless limbs. Wandering thoughts. You’d punched your pillow and flipped it to the cooler side and you’d thought about being back in the career counselor’s bed. If only he’d spent the night in that bed with you. If only you’d climbed into his lap while he’d been sitting beside you the next morning. So much regret, tempered with fear. Uncertainty.

Your parents’ return finally manages to pull you free from those memories. Perhaps you’ll sleep better tonight, now that you’ve enjoyed take out and gotten caught up and even watched a movie together. You return to your room that evening feeling full and satisfied, until your eyes fall on the dark garment draped over the wicker chair in the corner of your bedroom.

Your dress smells like Steve’s cologne.

You’d noticed it once you’d gotten home the previous day. Instead of putting it in the wash you’d left it on the chair, not quite willing to part with that scent just yet. Now it’s clutched in your hands. You shut your eyes and inhale deeply and you ache deep within.

He wants you. All you have to do is say yes.

You realize you’re not going to sleep well tonight, either.

***

Finding his next victim proves even easier than Steve had thought it would be.

He stops by the mall Saturday night even though he’s off from work simply to keep an eye on you, and it’s good that he had. He doesn’t like the look of the middle aged man loitering behind you while you’d walked across the parking lot, oblivious to the fact that you had not one, but two admirers.

Tonight he’s using the vintage car. No need to sully that new prize of his.

The back seat is currently occupied with the unconscious body of your stalker. A bit of a challenge incapacitating someone in a crowded place, but not impossible by any means. The stairwell to the second story parking had provided ample cover. People rarely used the stairs anymore.

That suits the killer just fine.

The section of the woods he drives to are especially thick and dark. He’s forced to abandon the car and drag the man deeper inside the forest. His eyes glow with a supernatural light that pierces this gloomy veil, making travel as easy as if he’s simply walking in broad daylight over familiar ground. The reaper finally releases his prey, arranging the unconscious man and straddling his supine body. He unsheaths the knife he’s brought. It’s his favorite: old and solidly crafted and very, very sharp. A personal possession he’s kept for many years, when numerous others have been cast aside and replaced. So many memories cast in that steel; seated in that handle. Now it was time to slice into a new one.

Whatever startled protest his quarry might have made is quickly silenced following the choked gurgle of blood as his vocal chords are severed. After that the murderer takes his time. The blood looks black on his skin, inky like his surroundings. The crows have gathered again, smelling blood. Wolves, too. One howls and another answers. They know better than to disturb this particular visitor to their territory. He hears their approach, cautiously circling and watching and waiting for whatever spoils he will leave behind, tongues lolling, breath panting. He tosses an appetizer, a torn chunk of flesh that’s origin is no longer recognizable. A snarl and a warning growl fills the air. One of the beasts has laid claim to the fresh meat already, fighting off one of its brethren.

Steve raises the blade again.

***

The desk beside yours in US History class on Monday afternoon is vacant.

Your cheerleader nemesis is absent, and you might not have given it much thought, except that it’s an exam day, and you know she’s already in trouble academically. Skipping a test doesn’t seem like a bright move.

Your final class of the day is gym. Not your favorite, although if you had to choose one activity to participate in during physical education, archery would definitely be the one.

It’s not that you’re any good at it; far from it. It’s just a welcome pace from gymnastics and basketball and the other activities you struggle with. Besides, it’s a great time of year to be outdoors. You find yourself lingering after the other students have followed the instructor back into the gymnasium, a large structure separate from the academy itself, set back a ways from the five storied building where you have your other classes. You’re enjoying the feel of the spring sun on your bare arms and legs. You’d actually gotten to unpack your shorts bearing the school’s logo and use them for the first time this season. A warm, drowsy feeling makes you contented and your mind wanders in a sort of blissful kind of oblivion. You remain standing on the neatly trimmed lawn that’s getting greener by the day, the all but forgotten unstrung bow braced against the ground, and you simply enjoy your surroundings.

It’s then that a sort of awareness whispers in the recesses of your meandering thoughts, becoming louder and louder until your reverie shatters and you realize you’re not alone.

Steve Raglan is walking across the field towards you, stopping to retrieve your arrows from their lodgings in the straw filled target before reaching you. You accept the offerings shyly. You haven’t seen or spoken to him since he’d dropped you home on Saturday morning.

“Hi,” you greet the older man, readjusting your hold of the bow.

“Hi. How was the exam?”

“Not bad. Glad I studied extra, though. Heather wasn’t in class today. Vapid cheerleader,” you clarify when he gives you a blank look.

“Ah. Well, that’s unwise.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Your eyes narrow thoughtfully. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

The guidance counselor barks a laugh. “What, make a student get sick and be absent from class? Hardly among my many talents.”

Many talents. God, he was so arrogant. You nod but you aren’t convinced. If anything, quite the opposite, though you can’t even begin to imagine how he might have had some influence in that regard. An image of a freshly dug grave flickers in your mind. You’d believed his innocence then, too. This feels exactly the same. Something not quite right; a sixth sense whispering another warning, but that smile he offers pulls at something deep within you and you stifle your misgivings once again.

“How was your parent’s trip? Back home safe and sound I trust?”

“Yes. They had a good time.”

“Do they do that a lot? Take off for weekend getaways?”

“Sometimes. It’s no big deal. I’m used to being home alone a lot.” You realize as soon as the words leave your mouth the implication there: the potential for future dalliances with no pesky parents to interfere. Steve surely does too, judging by that new little smirk on his lips.

“Interesting. Well, do you have time for another round? I don’t mind offering some pointers. I’m a decent shot myself.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You mutter. “Class is over.”

“Yes, officially it is. But you know me. I can’t pass on the opportunity to instruct a youth.”

“Uh-huh.” More like you can’t resist showing off, you think. “Okay, go ahead.”

He removes the bow from your hand and steps between the string and the flexible wood, leaning his weight and bending it into an arch while quickly sliding the cord back into place. An arrow is knocked and with barely any hesitation he draws and lets it fly across the field. It lands directly in the center of the target with a soft thud.

“I knew you were going to show off.”

“And teach. Here. Change your stance. Like this.” He guides you into position, his touch cool as always. There’s nothing improper about it, but you blush anyway, your eyes darting around quickly to see if there are any observers. It seems as if you are truly alone. “Hold the bow like this. A little higher. Good. Keep your arms relaxed, you’re not ready to fire yet. Concentrate on aiming. Sight down the line of the shaft. Envision it extending all the way towards the bullseye. Got it? Now close your eyes.”

You glance at the bearded man doubtfully. “Close my eyes? Really?”

“Trust me.”

You shake your head but aquiesce.

“Visualize the target in your mind. The only adjustment you’re making is drawing backward, building momentum. Everything else is already lined up perfectly. Draw back, now. Steady. Breathe in. Out. A little longer. Release.”

You obey his command, your eyes flying open to watch your arrow land well shy of the center, but closer than you’ve ever gotten before. “Hey, not bad!”

“It takes practice, that’s all.” He retrieves the last arrow from where you’ve dropped it onto the grass. Lining himself up with the target, he aims, then very deliberately turns his head and looks at you while simultaneously releasing. The arrow lands directly next to the first he’d fired.

“You really can’t resist, can you?”

He grins as he unstrings the bow. “Just proving my point. Once you’ve sighted correctly, all that’s left to do is provide the momentum to reach your target.”

“Is this another one of your life lessons, too?”

“Maybe.”

That smile was going to be the death of you. Those dimples. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners. You feel yourself succumbing to his charm all over again.

“Alright. Well, I’ve got to bring this stuff back inside. I guess they’re leaving the targets up for the rest of the week for the other classes.” You begin walking towards the target and Steve joins you, easily catching up with his long legged stride.

“You want a ride home?”

“Okay.” You’d halfway been hoping he’d offer. It’s a struggle to remove the arrows that the guidance counselor has launched. They’re embedded much more deeply than your own, the metal tips buried beneath the surface of the colored center circle.

Steve’s fingers wrap around the shaft and he removes the first arrow with ease, the next quickly following. You keep forgetting how strong he is; how much power lies in those large hands of his. He really could destroy you, all innuendos aside.

He hands you the remaining arrows, and you swear he can read your thoughts despite his protests to the contrary, another little smirk creasing one corner of his mouth. “I’ll go get the car. Meet you out front.”

You nod, trudging back across the field to the gymnasium.

***

Steve pinches the filter between his fingers and lights the end of the cigarette, taking a grateful drag while waiting for you to return to him.

The interior of the car is warmer than he cares for, making him wish he’d opted for the Mustang today instead; at least that has air conditioning. This vintage sedan was too old for that. The vents don’t do much but push around the interior’s stale air. He’s already got the front windows rolled down, but it’s not helping much.

You settle beside him and he instantly feels even warmer.

“Ready to go?”

You nod and he shifts gears. He sees the surprise in your eyes when he diverts off the main road and instead aims for the all but forgotten dirt path through the woods, the one that runs parallel to your usual route through the forest nearby. It’s a relief to be away from the blazing sun. The leaves have begun filling in nicely. He despises the light nearly as much as the heat. Soon this place would be properly shadowed again.

“I was thinking,” he begins, glancing over at you, “that maybe we could do a movie night. Get popcorn and candy. Rent some trashy horror flick. What do you think?”

“You mean watch it at your house?”

“Naturally. I doubt your parents would be keen on the idea of your guidance counselor on the couch in the dark with their adolescent daughter.” His teeth flash in a grin. He’s in a very jovial mood today. That death the other night had sated him. He needs to start making it more routine. He’s well established enough now. Time to return to his true purpose.

Of course there will be exceptions. Like spending time with you.

“When should I come over?”

“That’s a yes, then? Excellent. Well, it wouldn’t be on a school night. Can’t have interferences with that. So let’s say a Friday night when you’re available?”

“I guess I could say I was working. And you could pick me up at the bus stop,” you murmur thoughtfully.

“That sounds perfect. Oh, and just one other thing: maybe wear a skirt. You know, just in case.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as your eyes widen in surprise. “I’m only joking. It’s not a requirement. Although,” he says, the humor leaving his voice, “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it.” His eyes flick to the shorts that reveal more thigh than he’s accustomed to and he sees you flush and squirm in your seat, his lips curving into another smirk briefly before his features grow more serious. “I want to show you something.”

He laughs again at the expression on your face, realizing the implications of what he’s just stated. “Nothing improper, I promise. It’s a location I discovered while walking the other day that I think you might enjoy. Want to go for a bit?”

You still seem skeptical but you nod and he pulls the car off the path soon after, neatly threading the vehicle between two maple trees before exiting. Car keys tucked away securely in his pants pocket, he takes your hand and leads you forward into the woods.

“Do you go walking around here a lot?”

“Yes,” he says. “I find it soothing.”

“Me too. It helps me unwind.” Your head swivels to survey your surroundings. “I don’t recognize where we are, though. This is further in than I usually go.”

“I thought as much. I didn’t expect to find anything other than more trees, perhaps another road, but instead, I found…this.”

Steve halts just short of a crumbling house. There is little left of the structure beyond a cracked windowpane of the first level, an empty doorframe and a few clapboards covered with peeling, faded paint.

“What happened?”

“Hard to say. Maybe a storm caused structural damage once upon a time and it was too extensive to warrant spending the funds to repair. Watch your step. There’s still a lot of broken glass and boards with rusty nails scattered around. What I wanted to show you is actually behind this.”

You allow yourself to be led past the abandoned building, cautiously weaving between piles of rubble. Steve hasn’t let go of your hand yet. He likes holding it; likes guiding you towards this forgotten place he’d found. Sharing another secret with you.

“Good. They’re here.”

“Who? Oh…” Your hand drops from his.

A slatted, decaying fence that may have once been white borders the rear of the property, and just beyond that, an apple orchard. The gnarled, kinked branches bear buds that will soon blossom into flowers. Between these trees are a group of horses of various colors milling about, nosing at the ground, trotting back and forth, whickering and neighing softly, still unaware of the presence of others invading their territory.

“They’re wild?”

“Yes. Probably descended from some domesticated ancestors that lived on this farm once upon a time.”

“They’re pretty,” you say appreciatively. “They look healthy. Happy.”

“They do,” he agrees, leaning on his forearms against a section of the top railing that looks sturdy. “Fending well for themselves. Probably better off without human interference.”

“I’ve never gone horseback riding. Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you have. Probably an expert at that, too,” you grumble.

“Your words, not mine.”

Your eyes meet his and you tilt your head to one side, as if trying to conjure an image of that activity in your mind. “I can picture you doing it, actually. With some goofy cowboy hat on.”

“No. I’ve never been fond of hats.”

“Why? Because they mess up your hair?” You take a step closer and your hand reaches cautiously to siphon through the tresses at the far end of his side part. “Never a piece out of place, is there?”

His fingers catch your wrist, trapping you. “Sometimes it gets wild,” he whispers roughly. He can feel your bounding pulse beneath his fingertips, equally as startled by how brave you’ve suddenly become. Touching him of your own accord. He straightens, tugging on you, bringing you against his side. “I’ll show you.” You swallow loudly and your eyes shy from his and he smiles softly. “One day. When you’re ready. I’ll take you home now.”

It takes every ounce of willpower to lead you back to the car and deliver you safely to your residence; not to keep you pinned against him and crush your lips with his own.

Soon, he thinks. He’ll learn their taste soon.

[ram-on]

I know this is very silly, but sometimes I keep marvelling at why/how Paul is so pretty. 

It’s like.. every feature of his face is interesting. And oddly beautiful enough on its own that even if some other majorly beautiful features of his face are not visible he’s still very handsome and interesting. Like the eyebrows and the eyelashes. They’re pretty spectacular, but there are many photos where his eyebows are hidden below his hair and his face still makes you go ‘’wow what a face’’. And when his pretty mouth is hidden behind a beard you can still think the same.

And sometimes you don’t even see HIS EYES much. Which are like the prettiest thing about him. And he’s still beautiful! He can be very attractive even with closed eyes you know. I mean how? What makes him so pretty with closed eyes?? (them behind the eyelids?? the nose and the eyebrows?)

(not to mention that even HIS FIGURE without a face can be attractive. Or his back without an ass. :) But I’m talking mostly about the mystery of his face here.)

oK i know you must find me pathetically in love, but yeah, I had to share.

[yyokkki]

Asking to Sketch Them

---

*cough* I forgot this series was a thing I was doing uwu

---

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia

"Oh? How bold of you to think you could capture my visage in a mere canvas."

He says with the goofiest smile imaginable（⌒▽⌒）

He's already summoning a chair to sit on

Very experienced with posing so it's a breeze

You have a nice chat about philosophy, gargoyles and culture while you draw him

When you're done he's fangirling internally

Asks if he can commission you to draw a portrait of the both of you tgt

Hangs it up in his room <3

Becomes a regular commissioner

Mostly gargoyles

10/10 honestly nothing bad to say he's lovely

Lilia Vanrouge

"Fufufu, I've been in thousands of portraits over the years, you'll have to try your hardest to really impress me~ No pressure though!"

100% pressure once again

The old bat man will probably be hanging from the ceiling no negotiating

So it's either you draw him upside down or get upside down too

If you choose the second option you best hope no one walks in on you cuz damn wtf

How are you doing that you aren't even using magic???

When you're finished he jumps down and looks and goes

"How nice! Art has truly evolved so much since the last time I had one done~"

Starts showing you some of the portraits he had before like he's showing you baby pics

One of them has him looking like those medieval babies TT

4/10 I can't explain why I'm not giving him a lower score he's just funky

Silver

"No problem. If I fall asleep you can just wake me up, I won't mind."

He doesn't have much experience in posing but he's a natural

He's lookin like a disney princess fr, animals have started gathering

You're having a pleasant chat abou-

Oop he fell asleep

You think about waking him up but like

He looks so peaceful and like he's not even really moving so-

By the time you're done he's probably up and he starts apologizing

Tbh it's Silver so it would've been beautiful whether he was awake or asleep

Bonus points if you include the woodland critters snuggling into him

Human anatomy AND animal anatomy practice!!

9/10 he tried his best and it did turn out well

Sebek Zigvolt

"I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS HUMAN! MY VALUABLE TIME IS SPENT GUARDING AND PROTECTING THE HONOUR OF THE GLORIOUS YOUN-"

once again someone kiss him and shut him up omg

Or actually just show him the Malleus portrait he'll shut up

Yeah you have to do Malleus first if you wanna draw him

Stiff like a ramrod his face looks constipated

Ask him a question about his young master and he forgets he's being drawn in exactly 3 seconds

His face really lights up as he talks about him it's kinda cute

By the time you're done he's probably still talking so interrupt in a speech break

Thinks you did a good job and asks for some advice with art

Then starts trying to buy the malleus portrait off of you

I should've tried harder to not make 80% of his just him talking about the dragon boi but it's really hard cuz he's just him TT

7/10 he's not that bad but your ears are bleeding

-----

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

[emtheanxiousdragon]

Thinking about Psychonauts 2 again, and you know what scene pops into my head a lot? It’s near the end of the game, when Raz runs back to the caravan to get his family’s support to take down Maligula. In a game about mental health and coping with loss and mistakes, this scene, while small, says volumes.

If you don’t remember, when Raz makes his way to the caravan while Nona is in the middle of her big water tornado, this is how he finds his family; gathered around Augustus, offering whatever support they can.

Look at how Augustus is sitting. The classic “face to your knees” pose naturally signals that he’s upset, but there’s something more to that. When you think of this pose, who do you think of?

Children. Children are more likely to sit like this as they process their big feelings because sitting on the floor doesn’t feel inappropriate. When you get older, you feel embarrassed expressing yourself the way you did as a child and you move onto other coping mechanisms, ones that are less visibly upset. But not Augustus, not in this moment. I first when I saw this, I wasn’t sure what was happening, until Donatella spoke.

Remember, Raz just finished sorting through Nona’s memories and unlocking the psychic barriers that kept Maligula trapped. We recently learned that Ford messed with both Nona and Augustus’ memories to make them believe Nona was truly Augustus’ mother, not his aunt. Both of Augustus’ parents died, and have been dead for decades. While Raz was undoing the mental blocks, he wasn’t just revealing the truth to Nona. He was unraveling the truth in Augustus’ mind too.

Imagine you’re with your family, looking for your mother. She’s old, she’s wandered off, she isn’t as sharp as she used to be. You need to find her and keep her safe, you almost lost your son a few days ago and you can’t lose your mother too. And then the memories start unlocking. Memories of two graves, of a packed orphanage, of a strange man warping your mind and delivering you into the care of a woman you knew deep down to be the arbiter of national genocide, who this man made you think was your mother. Of course you break down. Of course you act like a child, even in front of your own children. What else can you do?

When Augustus says this, the statement is twofold. The mother he thought survived has been dead all this time, and the woman who did raise him has warped back to the traumatized, angry shell that caused so much death in your past. He’s lost both women in this moment.

The series does an incredible job of connecting us with the trauma and baggage of whoever’s mind we enter. But we never enter Augustus’ mind. We only get to see his trauma through show not tell, and that leaves us with a more evocative scene than many of the mental worlds we’ve visited before.

The writers know how powerful this scene is, and they make sure we linger on it with this long zoom out. The entire family embraces Augustus and shares in his woe. They’ll need their strength to help Nona soon enough, but they have to grieve for a moment, they have to acknowledge the hurt and pain they’ve inherited if they hope to rebuild their family.

I love this game.

[togamest]

Hi there could I please get headcanons for hajime umemiya, jo togame, hayato suo and kyotaru on how they act when they’re deeply in love/how they show their affection☺️

-> how they show their affection | gn!reader, all fluffy stuff. [feat. hajime umemiya, jo togame, hayato suo and kyotaru sugishita]

author’s notes: i love this concept, anon, and i wanted to pick from the love languages as well to springboard off of! thanks for coming by!

HAJIME UMEMIYA: ACTIVITY

Hajime is definitely the type to enjoy doing things together. After all, he has a garden to take care of, and he really enjoys how excited you get when you harvest together. Seeing you unafraid to get your hands dirty, dirt covering your arms up to your elbows as you hum a sweet tune while planting the cherry tomatoes he just bought makes his heart sing. He even makes a separate planter just for you to plant flowers and other odd flora that doesn’t quite fit into the vegetable patch.

It doesn’t have to be just gardening, though; I feel like he’s very outdoors-y as well, really into hiking and exploration in general. He’ll carry you up the mountains he scrambles up with ease if you get too tired, and he’ll have packed lunch with him to have at the summit. Seeing the world spread out below you, stretching for miles, never fails to take your breath away as you lean your head on his shoulder. His hand is warm, encompassing almost your entire shoulder as he rubs your skin.

TOGAME JO: QUALITY TIME

Jo is happy just being with you, wherever you go. I imagine he’s really into parallel play as well, sitting on the couch with a blunt in hand as you play one of the video games you’re really into. Or, going out for a walk at dusk, when the town begins to settle in for the evening and everyone’s gone home so it’s quiet.

Walks, errand running, whatever you are off doing, he’s happy to join you. But he also enjoys uninterrupted time with you, given how much he hangs out with Choji, who can be a little needy of his presence. Due to that, he’ll make “no phone evenings” where you sit and watch silly videos or a good background movie as you chat about your day, what’s been bothering you, and all that. He may not have the answers, but he’s happy to simply sit and listen to you, bright eyes lighting up the room as you ramble on about your latest creative ideas. He’s satisfied with just that.

HAYATO SUO: INTELLECTUAL

Suou feels like the type of person to really enjoy challenging you on an intellectual level. This is the type of person that you ask “would you love me if I was a worm?” and he’s already sketching out terrarium layouts and set ups. He’s soft-spoken, naturally, but he poses a lot of interesting questions. He also tolerates your ridiculous scenario questions with a light laugh, but it’s always somehow the right answer for you. He’s perceptive enough to know what you want to hear.

I feel like he’s also really into documentaries, video essays, and tier lists. A video essay on Pokémon legendaries will devolve into you both creating your own for your own reasons, and arguing why some are placed in different tiers. It’s interesting, seeing some inner peeks of how his mind works, and it stimulates you as well; there’s nothing like a man who challenges the way you think, opening your mind up to other possibilities you’d have never considered.

KYOTARO SUGISHITA: PHYSICAL TOUCH

Sugishita feels like the type of guy who never fails to have a hand on you somewhere. He was initially teased about it from Suou and Sakura, but it was all in good fun with no harm meant. And besides, Sugishita managed to double down on the physical touch after, keeping a hand on your back when you’re out walking with him, or holding his hand. Even when you’re sitting on the couch reading and he’s playing video games, every time he gets to a checkpoint he’ll give you a kiss.

Hugs, for him, are a huge way he shows his love. He’ll even go as far as to lift you up in the air, swinging you around just to listen to the tinkling noise of your laughter. Anything to make you smile, for him, is a massive win; and he loves touching you whenever he can. Even in the car, his hand will drift to your thigh and stay there for as long as he can have it there, thumb rubbing the soft, plush inside of your thigh.

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @interstellar-inn @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[lowkeycasanova]

baby it's hot out here

sanji x f!reader

plot: sanji seeing you innocently suck on a popsicle gives him inappropriate thoughts

warning: smut (18+)

It was hot.

Brutally hot.

The weather in the New World was unpredictable. From boulder sized hail, lighting rain, and now scorching rays. The relentless sun beat down on the Thousand Sunny. The air felt thick and stifling, as if nature conspired to make taking each breath a conscious effort.

The cool breeze of the ocean seemed to have abandoned the ship, leaving you all subject to the oppressive heat.

Amidst the sweltering conditions, everyone sought refuge where they could find it.

Luffy was sprawled out on the deck, his hat covering his face. Zoro was in the shadow of the ship's mast, still practicing his swordsmanship with beads of sweat running down his face, with Franky and Brook sitting close by. Usopp leaning over the edge of the ship in an attempt to catch whatever breeze was sent his way.

You, Nami, Robin, and Chopper, who diligently tried to cool himself with a handheld fan, laid in the shadows on the deckchairs.

"It's so hot, I'm sweating cola." Franky announces.

"You know," you heard Brook say as he flexed his arm and leaned on it like a pillar for support. "If you pretend it's a sauna, it's actually not so bad."

Sanji was in the kitchen, determined to whip up a refreshing drink for you ladies. Everyone else can get their own.

Bringing the drinks out, he makes his way over to you, Nami, and Robin, leaning down like a gentleman, offering the glasses.

"Thank you Sanji." Robin says politely and his heart skips a beat.

Nami takes one as she continues to examine her log pose.

"Thanks but, can I get one of those popsicles we just got?" You asked him, lifting up your sunglasses. It was at the last island the crew was at where you were gifted with a bag of these treats called popsicles that you never had before and had the desire to try.

"Of course, love. Anything you want." He replied with a suave grin. He made his way back to the kitchen, pulling out the bag from the freezer, ready to present it to you in a flourish.

You squeal in delight as you rummage through the assortment, Sanji watching with a lazy grin. You waste no time tearing the plastic wrap off a blue raspberry flavored one, bringing it to your lips. And it's so hot that it seemingly starts to melt already.

Sanji eyes a cherry one, but decides against taking it. He didn't need the sugar.

He puts the rest back in the freezer and walks back out on the deck with his own glass of ice water. He momentarily takes his cigarette out of his mouth to take a sip of water and he glances back at the beautiful ladies laid out adjacent from him.

Right then, you hold the treat in your mouth, as you take of your shirt, leaving you clad in a bikini top and shorts, leaving little to the imagination.

That alone would send Sanji over the edge, but now paired with the fact that your lips are stretched around the popsicle, sinking lower to the base and back up again, eyes fluttering closed.

His eyes go wide and his throat dry. He watches you slowly pull back off it, a sweet hum coming from your mouth and the wet noise pierces his ears.

His mind is going crazy. His cock is getting hard. Your eyes are closed and Sanji knows it's in part because it's hot and because you're enjoying the sweet treat, but part of him wonders if that's what you'd look like after getting fucked by him.

He tries to shake the thoughts away. He can't have one of his episodes right now. But the more he thinks, the more he can see it play out.

Him sitting on the bed, you kneeling down on the floor in front of him while you suck him off.

He's brought back to reality. You're in conversation with Nami, laughing at something she said, while using your tongue sweep over the length of the popsicle. Then using your thump to wipe away some of the stickiness from your lips.

Sanji was hanging by a thread. He abruptly sticks the cigarette back in his mouth and storms off, ignoring Franky's call.

"What's the matter bro?"

Luffy lifts his hat up and shrugs. "Maybe he has a stomach ache."

His cock gets harder with every step he takes. Making a beeline for the bathroom, he rushes in and immediately locks the door. He undos his belt, tugs his pants down, and frees the part of his shirt that was tucked in.

His back is pressed against the wall, head thrown back. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he squeezes his length. He feels the pangs of a sinful conscious. Nami would punch him into next week if she found out that he had gotten off to the thought of you like this.

Maybe that's what makes it more exhilarating.

His eyes flutter closed and the cig is long gone. It must have fell out when he was coming here. But no matter. His thumbs his tip, spreading his arousal over himself.

"Fuck, love." he breathes. He can see it now. You on your knees with your delicate little hand around his throbbing dick. He feels himself spasm in his hand.

A groan escapes his mouth as his clenched fist begins to move up and down his thick shaft.

He imagines you wrapping your mouth around him. The soft feeling of your cheeks as his tip nudges that little dangly thing in the back of your throat. "Yes, mhm, take it. Such a good girl." he sighs. "Keep sucking for me, just like that. You know how to do it."

His knees are shaking and his dick is throbbing and leaking. He's soaked from his own arousal but so badly wants it to be from your own.

Your pussy. Oh god.

Now he can't stop picturing your swollen lips and pulsing clit. His imagination will be the death of him. The idea of you laying back for him, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can see him, and spreading your thighs.

He gets comfortable and puts a finger in between your soft folds. You're dripping for him. Him.

His hand picks up the pace and feels this tingly sensation in his stomach.

He slaps his tip against your clit a few times. That makes you arch your back as he pushes his way in. The feeling of being stretched makes your walls tighten. He gulps, trying to compose himself. "So fucking tight."

Your pussy squelches with every thrust, breasts are bouncing and nipples erect. You're desperate, begging him for more.

The veins in his head and the muscles in his neck pop. He's a grunting mess. Gritting his teeth, using the stamia he has left to focus. He is too far gone to tease himself.

He now sees you still laying on your back, but you're giving him a handjob. Milking him for all he's got.

"Ugh, fuck!" he cried out, slamming his back against the wall as he cums. It's thick and white and he imagines cumming all over your chest. But in reality, the sticky arousal is all over his hand.

His cock softens in his hand and he breathes to try to calm down. Sanji takes a look at the mess he made, letting out a blissed, fucked out laugh, not even trying to hide the smile on his face.

[anaargent]

Ok but like... Five in Harry Potter PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE i know it's very unlikely but like just imagine him and his siblings in Harry Potter, with reader please 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You caught my favorite hyperfocuses, I wrote something simple, but I would like to go into more depth in the future.

FIVE HARGREEVES X READER

You were sitting in the shade of a large willow tree, making the most of the small moment of respite with the Hargreeves siblings. You weren’t sure when or how you had gotten pulled into their mess, but you were more than grateful for it. You smiled, watching Klaus and Ben at the edge of the lake playing with a frog, levitating it back and forth.

“This is disgusting, you idiots.” Allison threw the frog away as she pulled Viktor, who was resting his feet in the icy water, away from the mischievous siblings. “Will we have to put up with this until we grow up?”

“Don’t be so optimistic, we’ll have to live with them until the grave,” Viktor said, smiling, as he hugged his sister, who was whimpering in frustration.

Not far away, Diego and Luther were in the act of interacting with what you charitably called Luego’s fan club, a medium-sized group of girls and a few boys, who seemed enchanted by the Gryffindor bigwigs. They posed and flexed their muscles while their fans sighed in amazement "this is all natural babe, you can squeeze it" Luther said showing his biceps.

It was a funny fact, as much as the grumpy old Reginald Hargreeves was a perfect example of a Slytherin, almost all of his children went to different houses. Viktor and Ben went to Hufflepuff, they were kind souls, usually the first to offer help to their brothers and friends. Diego and Luther went to Gryffindor, the hat barely touched their heads, it was quite obvious to you that the two hotheads went to the house of the impulsive and courageous. Klaus was a stranger, after about ten minutes the hat left him in Ravenclaw, along with you to your great pleasure, there was never a dull moment with someone like Klaus around. Allison had gone to Slytherin, always standing out in the class, the girl was a perfect example of talent and discipline mixed with a rebellious and independent spirit. Finally… "There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere" Five says, pulling you out of your contemplative moment, shoving a chocolate cupcake into your hand and plopping down on the grass next to you "What are you doing here alone? Don't tell me you finally realized I'm the best of them and now you just want to hang out with me" he smirks as he looks at you.

You just laugh, shaking your head "If you were any bigger your ego would fill the common room, you know that, right?" Then you stop for a moment and take in the view. Five was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, just like you, his moss green t-shirt was worn and wet from intense training, his hair was a messy wave of strands slightly damp with sweat, giving him a wild look, which perfectly matched the playful and challenging eyes of its owner.

You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to be caught dissecting every part of Five, he already had a lot of self-confidence.

"Just watching?" Five smiles, leaning closer, his breathing still labored from the tiring workout, the light puffs of air hitting your cheeks.

You contemplate for a moment, pouting as you bite into the cupcake, Five's eyes darting between your eyes and lips, he wasn't good at disguising his intentions, maybe he wasn't even trying to "wanna taste?"

Five looks at you hopefully, his mind racing with the question - what were you trying to insinuate? "I will."

You move closer to him, your shoulders touching under the cool grass, the light wind carrying Five's scent from him and intoxicating you with the mix of moss, parchment, sweat and something that was only his. Then you place the cupcake on your parted lips and quickly stand up laughing and heading over to where Klaus and Ben were still playing with floating things "Forget this loser, come here and levitate worms on Allison" Ben waves with a cute smile at you.

"We're not done here yet, sweetie, I'll see you at the Quidditch game this Saturday," you hear Five shout in the distance, and you fight the blush that rises to your cheeks.

[bussyslayer333]

Take it

summary: jake seresin is the worst best friend in the world.

pairing: jake seresin x best friend!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut, face sitting, jake sucks but makes up for it hehe, MDNI 18+

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

You hated Jake Seresin.

That wasn’t true, but it was much easier to say that. To tell the wholehearted truth you were pretty sure you’d been in love with him since the day you met him a year and a bit ago. (1 year 5 months and 12 days if we’re getting specific).

You were on a bar crawl for one of your friends birthdays the day you met, everyone dressed as either sexy cowgirls or sexy aliens. Jake had taken an interest in your hot pink cowgirl hat and daisy dukes that left little to the imagination.

“Howdy, cowgirl.” He had drawled, making you giggle girlishly in your drunken state.

“Wow, a real life cowboy!” You had slurred, flicking at his toned chest.

Jake steadied you as you wobbled, inebriated, on your heeled cowgirl boots.

“Easy, tiger,” he murmured as you slumped against him, drawing circles on his pecs.

Jake was the one to take you home that night, nothing had happened, but he had made sure you got home safe once all your friends had dispersed. It was that nurturing nature of his that you wished so dearly for other people to see, and it often left you wondering what would have happened if your hadn’t drank that last vodka cranberry before you made your way to the Hard Deck.

“Open wide kitty!” Jake laughs, trying to stick your toothbrush in your mouth.

You groan from where you’re sat on your bathroom counter, nursing what felt like your worst hangover yet. It was a common occurrence for Jake to sleep at your apartment after a night out, just as common for him to share your bed.

You finally opened your mouth so Jake could stick your toothbrush in, you stared into his green eyes with a somewhat lovesick expression as he brushed your teeth for you. It was far too intimate for two people who labelled themselves ‘best friends’.

But that’s how it always seemed to be with Jake, toeing a line, will they won’t they. Ultimately, you figured Jake just wasn’t into you.

“Spit.” Jake tapped your cheek, happy with his brushing job.

He held your hair back as you spat into the sink,

“I’m not a baby,” you whined, climbing onto him so he could take you to your couch.

Jake laughed at your whinging, “Stop acting like one then.”

You went to dispute him again but realised your position; hanging off of him like a baby koala. Instead you make a little ‘hmmph’ noise and smush you’re face into the side of his neck. You finally feel his body dip onto your couch and look up from where you’re perched on his lap.

It’s unfair that he can look so good after so little sleep. Your eyes rake down his bare chest, biting your lip subconsciously.

“I’m not a piece of meat kitty.”

You roll your eyes, smacking his hard chest, “Shut up.”

Jake’s smirking down at you, there’s nothing he loves more than riling you up.

“If you want me you can just tell me darlin’, I know I’m irresistible.”

Your eyes must see more of the back of your head than the world round you, you reach for Jake’s ray bans that he discarded on your coffee table last night and balance them on your face. You pout in pose slightly for Jake to see.

Jake’s heart twangs slightly watching you giggle on top of him, draped in his shirt and now wearing his sunglasses. Truth be told, Jake was head over heels for you.

“How do I look?” You question with a giggle.

The last thing you expected in answer was Jake to surge forward and kiss you. His lips melded with yours like nothing you’ve ever felt before, it was all the pent emotions and words unspoken all wrapped up under the guise of a kiss. He tasted minty like your toothpaste that he always steals. You’re hand threads through the bottom of his hair at the base of his neck and it finally seems to rouse him. He pulls back and looks at you with wide eyes, pushing his sunglasses up to the top of your head.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be,” You whine breathlessly.

Jake takes this as a sign and cups your face with both hands, connecting your lips once again. It’s messy and your hands are running through his hair haphazardly. Just as Jake slips his tongue into your mouth, his phone begins to ping in his pocket. You pull back with a giggle and watch Jake groan, the texts are from Bradley. It’s his birthday today and Jake is supposed to be with him before you go out again tonight for more celebrations.

chicken 😒

where are you????

get ur ass here rn

i will literally fart on your pillow if u don’t hurry up

do u want to have pink eye bagman?

You’re still laughing at the texts when Jake pipes up,

“This man is 35 and threatening to fart on my pillow.”

When you finally manage to kick Jake out 20 minutes later, he’s giving you one final kiss before he’s out the door.

“See you later pretty girl.”

You peck him quickly again, “Bye cowboy.”

Whilst getting ready for Bradley’s birthday drinks you find your mind consistently wandering to Jake. Will he like what you’re wearing? He likes when you put shimmery eyeshadow on, right? Is he gonna tell everyone about you? Are you his girlfriend now?

The last question makes your stomach flutter in excitement. Surely you weren’t just friends anymore. Once you finished the final touches on your makeup you slip on your mini skirt,pull your strappy top over your head and bend down to pull your wedges on. You slide your lipgloss into your purse and decide you’re ready to go.

When you get to the Hard Deck you can already see Phoenix and Bob giggling on a bench outside, nursing a few beers. When they see you they call you over with a wave,

“Hey babe!” Phoenix smiles lazily, you’re pretty sure she’s been here a while.

You kiss her and Bob on the cheek and pipe up, “Have you guys seen Jake?”

They both share a giggle and a knowing look, “Lover boy is inside.” Phoenix chuckles.

You roll your eyes at your two friends who are giggling like school girls and step into the bar, scanning the area for Jake. You first catch sight of Bradley and quickly jog over to wish him a happy birthday.

“Hey birthday boy!” You cheer, as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“Hey gorgeous,” Bradley’s cheeks are already rouged from the alcohol he’s consumed.

You pull a card from your purse that you couldn’t resist giving to Bradley, his eyes light up as you hand it over to him. He all but tears it open to find a card with a cartoon chicken wearing a party hat on it, he snorts and mumbles “rooster” then opens it to read your sweet little message. Once he’s finished reading he places a wet kiss on your cheek and whispers,

“No one else got me a card.” You frown slightly but realise that none of the team seem the type really.

Rooster corrects himself, “Bob did, and Mav and Penny. But yours is the best.”

You sigh in relief, Bob loved birthday cards and you would have been shocked had Rooster not received one from him.

“I’m glad you like it Bradley.”

Bradley’s arm is still wrapped around your waist and he squeezes you in acknowledgment.

“Drinks?” You question and Bradley smiles,

“Definitely.”

You make you way over to the bar top, still scanning what seemed to be a doubled crowd for Jake’s form.

Penny catches your eye and mouths “The usual?” and you nod, eyes still searching.

That’s when you spot the back of his head on the opposite side of the bar, and a female hand raking through the short hair at the nape of his neck. You crane your head around enough to see that the female hand is connected to a body whose lips are connected to Jake’s. Nausea is the only thing you feel, you’re frozen in place gawking at Jake and his gorgeous new friend. When Jake pulls back from the kiss he meets your widened eyes immediately. He feels guilt pool in his stomach, but quickly pushes it down. He saw you flirting with Bradley, who cares if he kisses someone else. The guilt comes back as he watches you rush out quickly.

You can feel Jake following after you but you don’t have the heart to turn back. It’s only when you stumble slightly on the gravelled parking lot of the Hard Deck that Jake catches up to you.

“Kitty, wait!”

You roll your eyes with much more venom than he’s ever seen as you turn around to face him, Jake’s stomach drops when he sees the tears pooling in your lash line.

“Just go back Jake, I’m sure if you’re quick that girl will still be waiting.”

It’s Jake’s turn to roll his eyes, “Sure and I’ll go find Bradley for you.”

“What?”

“I saw you with him earlier.”

“It’s his birthday Jake!”

“He kissed you!”

“On the cheek! How many times has he done that to you?”

Jake recalls all the drunken cheek kisses from Bradley he’s been on the receiving end of. He’s a very affectionate lump when he wants to be.

“Fuck, kitty wait!”

You’re already back to your car by the time Jake has pulled himself out of his thoughts. Jake watches you drive off feeling like a prize idiot.

When he walks back into the Hard Deck Bradley is onto him immediately, asking where you went. He’s heavy on Jake, clearly enjoying all the drinks he’s been bought with his birthday boy badge on.

“I miss her.” Bradley whines into Jake’s ear.

“Me too.”

The next day when you wake up, you somehow feel worse than how you usually feel with a hangover. The embarrassment and hurt from last night flooding your whole body.

You spend the first half of the morning moping around your apartment in your pyjamas. It’s just gone 12 when you hear the buzzer for your apartment ring. You groan aloud, not moving and willing that the person at your door just goes away. However, your phone screen lights up with a text from Bradley.

bradbrad

open the door smh

i know ur in there

You roll your eyes but let a small smile grace your face. At least it wasn’t Jake. You look through your peephole to find Bradley stood in a hoodie and sweatpants with sunglasses on and a huge bouquet in his hands. Furrowing your eyebrows you open the door.

“Hey gorgeous,” he smiles kindly, walking into your apartment.

He flops down onto the couch and pushes his sunglasses onto his head, you giggle slightly at how tired his bloodshot eyes look.

“Geez, Brad you look dreadful.” You pat his shoulder, taking the spot next to him on your couch.

He grimaces, “and you look radiant as ever.” He flicks your mussed updo that you had clearly slept in.

“Yeah, okay, why are you here?” You tuck your legs under yourself.

Bradley nods to the huge bouquet of flowers taking up the space on his lap. They’re beautiful lilies with a pink card tucked into the wrapping, he hands them over to you and chuckles slightly as you try to hold them all.

“Sorry, can you take these again, let me get a vase.”

You shove the flowers back into Bradley’s hands and hunt down the large vase your mother had insisted you kept “in case a boy wanted to buy you flowers!”. You find it tucked beside one of your kitchen cabinets and fill it partly with water before returning to the living room. You place the vase on the coffee table and reach for the flowers, plucking the pink message card out before carefully placing the flowers into the vase.

The pink card has scrawl that you immediately recognise on it, it reads;

My best girl,

i’m sorry for being a dick

forgive me?

yours,

J xo

Hurt twinges in your chest at his messy handwriting and earnest words. It hurts because you know him well enough to figure that he means it and that he spent enough time at a florists to pick out your favourite flowers. But it hurts most to know that he still kissed someone who wasn’t you, purposefully to get back at you.

Bradley pats at your knee, waking you from your trance.

“He sent me with them, he was worried you wouldn’t even take them if he tried.”

You groan, “he’s such a dick!”

Bradley shrugs, as much as he would have once agreed with you, Bradley had never seen Jake so messed up about something. When he showed up at Bradley’s house at 8am with a huge bouquet of lilies Bradley had initially thought he was having some strange maladaptive dream, but when Jake started rambling about how he had fucked the one good thing in his life up, he knew it was serious.

“Hear him out?” Bradley tries cautiously.

Before you can roll your eyes Bradley speaks up again,

“You’re still coming to the beach tonight?”

You groan. You’d forgotten about the last day of Bradley’s birthday celebrations, a beach bonfire. You’d promised him you would be there weeks ago, it was surely too cruel to cancel on the day of.

“Sure, fine.”

Bradley squeezes you hand before standing up and heading towards the door,

“9pm. Be there in something skimpy!”

You flip him off as he lets himself out with a cackle.

The beach was busy when you arrived, probably everyone Bradley knew and their friends were there. Your stomach flip flopped and you considered spinning on your heel when you caught a glimpse of Jake’s silhouette but Phoenix spotted and called you over before you could make your swift exit.

She makes her way over to you with an apprehensive smile on her face, you figure Bradley told her what happened with Jake.

“Hey,” she links her arm into yours, her presence already settling your nerves.

“Hi,” You breathe out, allowing her to steer you towards the party.

Bradley catches sight of you and cheers loudly, grabbing everyone (including Jake’s) attention. It makes you cringe slightly but you straighten yourself out and smile at him.

“Hey gorgeous! You look great,” Bradley pulls you out of Phoenix’s grip and makes you do a little twirl.

It makes you feel a little silly but you’re mostly grateful that at least someone can appreciate your tiny bikini. Jake’s gaze is hot on your back, you can feel his eyes raking over you. Maybe it’s cruel for you to purposefully ignore him but the little devil on your shoulder reminds you that he deserves it.

Phoenix stays by your side all night, dancing and drinking and distracting you from Jake’s gaze. It works well until she’s pulled away from you by Bob and suddenly Jake’s by your side.

“Please can we talk?” Jake pleads in your ear.

He’s stood behind you, you can feel the heat from his body warming your back. You want nothing more than to lean back into him, be encapsulated by Jake. But, your will is strong and Jake had once told you he admired your pettiness so you stand your ground not to his surprise.

“Fuck off.”

Bit harsh, but nothing you know he can’t handle.

You turn to leave but he weaves his way in front of you, sad green eyes staring into you.

“Please, kitty.”

It’s unfair, how just looking at his face can make you crumble. Jake Seresin is a cruel, cruel man.

“Fine.”

You let Jake lead you further away from everyone, closer towards where everyone’s cars are parked. He sits down on the sand and looks up at you. You take a seat next to him, your bare leg knocking against his absentmindedly.

The tide has come in significantly and the way the waves lap idly at the sand in front of you helps to calm the nerves in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” Jake whispers.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Jake winces. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy but he thought the flowers were a nice touch.

“I know I fucked up, okay? I really like you darlin’, the type of like that I think is love but I’m too scared to say it because I somehow always fuck the good things in my life up.” Jake takes a deep breath, “and you’re the best thing, my best girl. I’m surprised you stuck around me so long, I know I deserve it but please don’t ignore me, it’s only been a day and I’m already losing my mind out here sweetheart.”

You sit in silence for a few seconds, processing Jake’s word vomit.

“Do you mean it?”

Jake looks at your side profile, studying every minuscule detail.

“Mean what?” He mumbles.

“You love me?”

Jake reaches a hand out, he grazes his knuckle along your cheekbone and sighs.

“More than anything.”

You hadn’t looked at him properly yet, worried he’d take pity on your sad face but his admission draws you in. Jake frowns at the sight of your glossy eyes and reaches his other hand forward so he can cradle your face.

“I’m so fucking sorry kitty.”

You giggle slightly and he quirks a brow, “You loooove me,” you tease with a watery voice.

Jake chuckles and leans in closer and closer until his lips are millimetres away from yours.

“Can I?” He asks.

You hum in mock consideration for a few seconds and Jake squeezes your cheeks into a pout. Finally you grace him with an answer.

“If you must.”

Jake’s lips are soft on yours. Tentative. Like he wants to do it right this time, showing you just how much he cares. It’s sweet and intoxicating but when his tongue traces your lower lip you pull back.

“You’re not forgiven just yet.”

Jake knew he wouldn’t be able to get way so easily, luckily he had a plan that would benefit the both of you.

He stands abruptly, taking your hand in his and guiding you up with him. He lets his hand drift to your waist and he plays with the strings of your bikini as he guides you towards the multitude of cars parked behind where you had just been sat. From the car park Bradley’s bonfire is a small beacon of light quite far away, so Jake isn’t too worried about someone walking in on what he plans to do.

When you realise you’re headed for Jake’s truck you halt in your walk,

“Can I go say goodbye to everyone before we leave?”

Jake smiles down at you before opening the back door to his truck, “We’re not leaving.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him as he helps you into the backseats of his truck. The way he’s smirking down at you fills your stomach with excitement.

Jake finally offers you an explanation, “I want to show you how sorry I am,” He reaches for the strings of your bikini bottoms once again, holding his hands against them, not quite undoing them just yet.

“Did you wear this for me?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes, “For Bradley.”

Jake scoffs pulling at the string on the left side of your bikini bottoms. They stay in place as he reaches for the other side but you raise your hand to signal him to stop. Jake leans back from you, head resting against the window.

“What do we say?” You tease at him.

Jake smiles at you, he likes you like this. Thinking you’re in charge. Jake pouts in mock confusion then spits out the magic word,

“Please, kitty.”

Your core clenches at the way Jake is staring down at you. You swallow before nodding, prompting Jake to reach for the other bikini string. He pulls at it slowly, mesmerised by the way it unravels. Once it’s fully undone you sit up on your knees and let the fabric slip off of you. Jake sucks in a breath as he finally catches sight of your pussy.

“Sit on my face.”

“What?” You giggle somewhat breathlessly.

Jake had never asked a girl to do that before, but looking at you in this moment he’s never been so sure of anything.

“Please.” He almost whines.

Jake’s desperation makes your stomach flip, a wave of arousal flooding through you. You reach forwards and crash your lips together, allowing his tongue entrance. Jake’s hands find their way to the back of your neck where strings hold together your bikini top. He has less patience this time, simply pulling at them until your breasts are free. He pulls back from the kiss to admire your naked form, instead of feeling self conscious Jake’s gaze makes you feel confident. Especially with how you can see his cock straining against his trunks.

Jake manœuvres himself as best he can so that his head is resting against one of the seats and he’s lying on his back, his hands resting on your waist as you straddle his chest. The feeling of his warm skin and sprinkling of chest hair is almost euphoric against you.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

“Never been more so.” Jake replies breezily, hands reaching out to palm at the fat of your ass.

You hum, moving upwards until your pussy is hovering over his mouth. Jake licks his lips at the sight of your glistening arousal, you can feel the vibration of every breath he takes against you. Jake’s hands move to pull you down onto his mouth and you reach a hand out onto the window to stable yourself.

Jake licks a stripe up your pussy, tongue flat. It makes you squeal in pleasure, other hand coming down to tangle into his hair. He makes kitten licks at your clit, swirling and then moving his tongue down to gather your juices. The movement makes your hips circle against him, riding his face. You worry slightly about smothering Jake, but you’re mind is wiped as he grips at your ass, pulling you down harder onto his mouth, moaning into your pussy at the taste of you.

His enthusiasm makes you giggle which is quickly turned into a squeak as Jake dips his tongue into your hole, nose nudging against your clit with every thrust. Jake fucks his tongue into you over and over again, making your eyes roll into the back of your head, moans spilling from your lips in a constant babble. The tight knot in your stomach beginning to form. Jake removes his tongue from your hole and starts to lick and swirl at your clit again, he moves one of his hands from the tight grip on your ass and brings it towards your hole. You can feel his middle finger tease your entrance before dipping in.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whimper as he uses his other hand to guide you in continuing to ride his face and hand. The knot in your stomach tightens as Jake moans loudly into your pussy. It gives you a sneaky feeling that he’s enjoying this as much as or maybe even more than you. He increases the speed at which he’s curling his finger inside of you and flicks at you clit with his tongue with renewed vigour, finally sending you over the edge.

You’re a moaning mess as white hot pleasure hits you, hips rolling erratically down onto Jake’s face and jerking upwards as he tries to continue his ministrations of licking up your juices. Jake finally lets his grip on your ass loosen and he pulls his finger from you, allowing you to move off of him and straddle against his waist. Jake hisses sensitively.

Your brows furrow and you look down to see a dark blue stain against Jake’s light blue swim trunks. A teasing smirk forms on your lips, but you can’t help the shock of arousal that shoots through you.

“Did you..?” You nod down to the incriminating patch.

Jake looks embarrassed for a second before recovering, “You taste and sound incredible kitty, can you blame me?”

You flush under his compliments and reach down to peck at his lips,

“You’re incredible, Jake.”

He pecks you a few more times before sitting up,

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Your eyes roll lovingly at Jake’s comment and you reach to peck at his lips again before a knock at the fogged up window interrupts you. You’re nervous for a split second before Bradley’s obnoxious laugh fills your ears. Jake’s arms wrap protectively around your waist, covering your modesty before he presses the button to allow the windows to roll down slightly.

“Fuck off, Bradshaw.” Jake yells before doing the window up again.

You can hear Bradley’s cackles as he yells to who you presume is Phoenix.

“I told you they’d fuck and make up!”

The next morning when Jake Seresin wakes up in your bed it seems like nothing has changed. However, your presence is absent, bringing a frown to Jake’s face.

He wanders through your apartment to find you in the kitchen, humming a tune and wiggling your hips enticingly. You’re wearing one of Jake’s shirts and some very small sleep shorts. The sight makes Jake groan, alerting you of his presence. You turn and beeline for him, jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Morning, handsome.” You smile, kissing at his cheek.

Jake basks in the attention, “How’s my gorgeous girlfriend on this fine morning?”

You giggle at his words, “You’re corny.”

“You love me.”

“Maybe.”

Jake sighs, and licks at your cheek over and over again making you shriek in disgust.

“Fine! I love you!” You squeal at him.

He beams, “knew it.”

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

a/n: FINALLY FINISHED WRITING SMTH!!!!

i hope this is up to standard, this is a request i got ages ago and finally finished 😭😭😭

jake is my lover boy which means I KNOW HE MAKES MISTAKES but i love him and care about him anyways

also i know he this man eats cooch like a pro so i want NO arguments !

pls comment, reblog, or send me and ask and tell me what u think !!!

thank u for reading :)))

- honey <333

[agoddamn]

Tales of Duviri is a storybook written by Euleria Entrati for the purpose of teaching children how to handle the manic flood of emotion that comes with Void exposure.

I pose a question: why does Euleria feel so strongly about this?

Her interactions with her own children are... let's call them wanting, and dialog implies that the negative aspects of their relationship--her denigrating, controlling nature, the distrust, etc--did not begin only after the Infestation brainrot set in.

We also know that she holds her father in extremely high esteem, but Albrecht did not think much of Tales of Duviri (see: him talking about his previous disdain for it in his own Duviri notes). Euleria put resources into writing Tales of Duviri instead of more traditional science, and Albrecht did not think much of it.

So why did Euleria write Tales of Duviri?

Let's rewind a step. Void exposure-induced mania, the whole thing Tales of Duviri is written to help manage.

How was that discovered and studied? It clearly was studied, enough to be a recognized condition and for the Orokin to build the iso vaults and for Euleria to write Tales of Duviri. But who would they have observed this mania in if Void research was an abandoned dead-end line of study?

Perhaps...the man obsessed with the Void who'd survived an unshielded Void dive?

Euleria had patient zero of Void mania sitting at her dinner table. Albrecht is the character who's undoubtedly had the most Void exposure.

Albrecht himself must have exhibited the Void mania and mood swings that Tales of Duviri exists to teach caution of.

And that's why Euleria wrote it; she had this gyroscope of a mood swing at home. She admired Albrecht too much to consciously deride his lack of control as irresponsible and so she channeled her energy into writing Tales of Duviri instead.

The emotion spirals of Duviri are loosely based off of what Euleria witnessed in the Entrati household and particularly Albrecht himself.

I don't believe that any courtier is a 1:1 translation of a member of the Entrati household, but more that their toxic interactions and dramatic heights reflected things that Euleria herself saw--or lived.

This reading of the Duviri characters and story--that they mean things to Euleria specifically--gives us a fun new lens to look at all of the chapters with.

For example, Mathila.

"Two children, and no memory of her husband. Poor Mathila."

Two children like Euleria herself, eh?

Mathila loved her husband. He also textually does not exist. He's not on the screen or in the text. He is a memory, and one that Mathila herself cannot even remember. There is no portrayal of their love.

Pivot to a writer's perspective. You need to write a loving relationship. You look to real life for inspiration, right? If you're a married woman needing to write a married woman in love, you naturally look to your own relationship.

And if you can't find anything to base that love off of? Well...move that character offscreen. Just tell about the loving relationship, don't show. Actually, do you even have anything to tell about? Well. Move the entire loving relationship offscreen, then. She's got amnesia. Nobody needs to talk about the love to sell it or make it feel real now. The narrator can simply mention it as a fact and it need not be challenged. Euleria doesn't have to imagine a loving family life between a husband and wife and their two children and question why that's hard for her. There. Problem fucking solved.

Another parallel that fairly started screaming at me once I started considering that the Duviri courtiers had meaning to Euleria specifically: Luscinia.

"I was created to be Sorrow, written into being, to serve as a lesson... can that change?"

Luscinia knows that she is a tool. As much as she dreams of being more, she knows very well that she is a tool--both a literal narrative element to teach a lesson and within the story itself Thrax's servant (his personal songbird).

Is there anyone in Euleria's life who might have some angst over their position as a tool? A servant who wants to escape the limited definitions of their role?

And so... here I am, back to my old role. The diligent servant. Albrecht would have smiled at that, I think.

Loid. It's Loid.

Luscinia: "This structure and I share much. Both of us once useful, both of us discarded, both of us now derelict. Both forgotten." Loid: "How might this relic make himself useful today?"

Both Luscinia and Loid are also capable of surprising amounts of ruthless violence. Luscinia has no hesitation telling you to kill the Dax or otherwise wreak vengeance on her jailers. Loid's Necramech lines feature him ranging from being excited for ensuing violence to coldly promising the Murmur regret.

The Duviri Tales were a subconscious form of therapy for Euleria herself as well, allowing her to write a story where emotional explosions were a problem that must be addressed rather than a social struggle to be suffered through at the whims of the more powerful.

[izvmimi]

cw: a little goofy. reader graduated from jujutsu tech years ago. gojo has an unnamed partner who also taught at jujutsu tech.

“Sensei.”

The silence between you for the past minute is unnatural but not uncomfortable, just that you and your former second year instructor are chatterboxes by nature and any moment with your lips pursed together or lost in thought at the same time is suspicious. She doesn’t hear you at first, far too preoccupied with the hem of her skirt - she looks almost too good, and you’re slightly envious of the older woman’s elegance. You’d decided on your own outfit in a hurry, a comfortable pair of jeans, dressy sandals - a summery look, cute but slightly more casual than your mentor turned friend. 

“Mm?” she finally responds, looking up at you, legs crossed, hands posed over her knees. You’re standing, your own arms crossed over your chest, slightly anxious as you look around at the other passersby at the busy subway station. 

“What do you think they’re up to?” you ask. It’s more than a simple coincidence that both of you ended up at the station at the same time on this random Thursday morning, no cursed spirits to exorcize and suspiciously coinciding with the fact that you let Yuuji know you had a couple days off of your part-time job this week.

“Something ridiculous probably,” she says with a smile. She waves you to sit down beside her but you twist your mouth to the side slightly anxious. 

It’s one thing to have Yuuji make surprise plans for you, but Satoru’s implied involvement makes you nervous. Satoru is like the opposite of what your sensei is for you - while she evens you out, the former only exacerbates your boyfriend’s more unruly but well-intended actions. 

You sigh and let yourself sit next to her. 

“It’s White Day,” she finally says. Her eyebrows seem to perk up with this realization as if it’s just come to her now, and as you come to the realization yourself, you grimace.

“Oh no…”

As if on cue, your phone starts to ring in your lap. Her phone doesn’t ring, but she receives a barrage of text messages all at once, the personalized cat meow ringtone she’s been begging Satoru to stop replacing her phone with - including the last time you had dinner on her house - repeatedly going off in her lap.

“Itadori.”

“Hi, baby~~~”

His voice is coy on the phone and it makes you scrunch your eyebrows together, just imagining how easily Satoru rubs off of him at times. Next to you, your friend types rapidly, then stands up just as fast.

“Dios.” She herself sounds exhausted. 

“What’s going on Yuuji, where are you?” you ask, a tinge of panic raising the pitch of your voice.

“Right in front of you!” he replies, cheerily. You look up, and yes, you should have expected the worst. 

“Oh no,” your mouth goes agape.

Yuuji and Gojo are wearing literal animal suits in the middle of a crowded station at 9am, just an hour after the morning rush. Off-brand giant versions of Pochacco and Cinnamoroll are now skipping in your direction, their faces clearly visible because they didn’t even have the sense to hide them, and holding hands as they skip, a bouquet of flowers for both of you in their free hands.

“Absolutely not.”

Your sensei stands planted in genuine shock, while you gather your things to leave; unfortunately, the moment you turn your back on him, Yuuji pulls away to move just a bit faster, scooping you up rapidly in his arms and spinning you around.

“Happy White Day!” he responds to your sharp yelp. As you spin, you can see your sensei subjected to a similar fate.

Unlike you, she’s head over heels enough to be embarrassed but not fight as Cinnamoroll!Gojo engulfs her, peppering her in kisses in its gaping, Satoru filled mouth. 

“This is the worst thing you have ever-”

“I love you!” 

His face is so endearing, you can’t help but melt immediately, like the chocolates he’ll eventually present to you before you head off to the amusement park for a day, stashed in a small backpack inside the ridiculous suit.

You suck in a deep lungful of air, but by the time you exhale, your cheeks are warm.

“I… love you too.”

Bonus:

By midday, the four of you are enjoying ice cream and funnel cake, your two former senseis with shoulders pressed together and as disgustingly cute as a couple can possibly be. The suits (thankfully) have been long ditched (although you’re not exactly sure where), and Yuuji is stealing bites off your paper plate as the chatter flows freely. The amusement park is busy but not hopelessly crowded, and you’ve been able to get on as many rides as possible, even though they are themed for love and popular for that simple reason. 

“Wait, how come you guys didn’t rope Megumi into this?” The idea of Megumi in a mascot suit is driving you practically insane just thinking about it, and as you take another bite of ice cream, you practically snort it through your nose in a delayed reaction, which has Yuuji thump your back sympathetically. 

“He thinks he’s too good for us,” Yuuji grumbles.

“He is,” you and Gojo’s wife say in unison, then you both catch each other’s looks and burst into laughter with the men you love, and who love you just as hard.

[feefymo]

The Rorchach Effect - Part 2

Jimmy Darling x fem! reader - NSFW • MDNI word count: 3035 author's note: Smut Time? Friendly reminder: I'm very paranoid and very not english. As a first approach, I preferred to write in present tense(?) to make my work easier. I hope it still turns out to be effective and... engaging, cough cough. warnings: there's mainly masturbation and how do you say that? Tits-fuck? - What a bitch, look at this… ! - Jimmy sneers, bouncing on Elsa's mattress. Taking advantage of the party, we entered her tent and, if that wasn't enough, we are making use of her things. In this regard, Jimmy caresses the fabric of the dressing gown that he stole from her and which he shows off with a light-hearted air. Standing a few steps away from him, I giggle and perform a pirouette. Needless to say, I'm also wearing a designer dressing gown. We are not in a building, no armored door protects us but neither of us seems to care. Anyone could catch us red-handed, Elsa herself, and yet here we are, flirting as if we hadn't eaten each other's faces off just now. - That purple suits you… - I state halfway between a good-natured joke and absolute conviction. The piece of clothing on Jimmy makes me laugh and, at the same time, makes my brain go crazy. He barely fits in it but he still thought it made sense to tie the robe loosely at the waist. On the other hand, I swim in the celestial fabric, making Jimmy hungry and impatient. He wishes he could peek more - better - but I purposely wrap my arms around myself. He can see a small part of my cleavage as well as my legs, from the knees down. I can't stay still, so I move around Mommy Elsa's room because I'm nervous. I try to distract myself but the situation is electric and, deep down, I feel embarrassed for my skin. - Hey, miss? Stop for a while, you're making me seasick! - Jimmy addresses me. The tone of voice is loving and understanding: he knows that I do this when I'm upset and he probably imagines the reasons too. He himself is revved up, sitting with his back straight on the edge of the mattress. - Hey, miss - I mock him, raising an eyebrow - You've never shown off such a correct posture in your life. - I add, approaching him with bare steps. I pose as a high-class woman while I smoke the remains of Elsa's cigarette. I puff a cloud of silver onto Jimmy's perfect features, and he leans in to bite into it and catches me off guard. I fall into a seat on Elsa's boudoir stool and we both laugh until the laughter fades into the silence of a long stare. - Y/N, you're beaut… - - Don't say that. - - What? Why? - - I'm sorry, I'm… I'm not that good at encouraging when it comes to me… - I inhale deeply with a bitter smile. - Are you talking about your skin? - he ask in a murmur, tilting his curly head to the side. He leans his torso in my direction and it's natural for me to close my thighs. It's not the embarrassment I thought it was, but rather a bubble of warmth that suddenly forms in my belly that I try to trap. I see his hand, the one I treated for him, lingering in the act of touching me. He closes and reopens it, searching my face for answers. I just nod. - Do you know what your skin looks like? - he asks, creating a suspense that I am about to ruin. - The coat of a cow? - Jimmy twists into a grimace: he understands the irony but splashes on me the remnants of Elsa's favorite liquor, that he brazenly drank. - Do you know when the summer sun is at its zenith but you are sheltered by the foliage of the trees? Then many pieces of shadow and light are created and… and that's you. - I don't know if he realizes how poetic the concept he has just expressed is, gesturing and looking for the right words. I stare at him with adoring eyes and my mouth slightly ajar, so he coughs and takes a breath. He's going to add something.

Can you touch me? - I'll nip it in the bud. - Can you… touch me, please? Calmly, trace the outlines of the lights and shadows you mention. I want those hands on me. I want to… venerate them. - the moment I pronounce the verb "venerate", Jimmy just flinches. That single sentence has the power to give a shock to his cock, which gradually awakens beneath the silk and, I notice, it twitches slightly. Besides robes, we don't wear anything. - I can. - Jimmy confirms after what seems like an eternal silence. I think he wanted to give me some kind of speech but he prefers to look at me while he slides to his knees. - Do you know how many times I touched you "by mistake"? - he tease. I lose control of my breathing in response: the legs, still locked and contracted, are delicately stripped from the edges of the garment. - Yes. - no, I don't really know but I understand what he means. The same goes for me. As he looks at me, I'm afraid he's thinking: "if I put my hands there, I'll ruin everything". Then I grab the wrist of his good hand and lead him to my left knee. My thighs are shaking but now it's a dispassionate invitation to redesign myself. So he does it. He begins to touch my shins with his fingertips. He leans over to blindly caress the calves and then up. Higher up.

This is the geographical map of Heaven. - he whispers on my mouth, swallowing an excess of saliva. He tries not to look down, positioning himself between my knees for better access to my lips. Suck the lower one slowly; the lip bleached by the disease to which Jimmy gives pigment through his heat. Slowly, he bends through my tremors until I can only see the tangle of his chestnut honey-colored curls. His fingers, now hidden by the fabric hanging from my shoulders, circumnavigate the dark areas of my hips until they imprint themselves on my breasts. The contact electrifies him, so he lets out a moan similar to a shock. He's found in a particular position: he resembles the statue of someone about to prostrate themselves in prayer, with their arms outstretched in the act of pinching my nipples and his lips dangerously close to my mons Veneris. - I'm not a two-flavor ice cream. - I flounder, resorting to a form of reluctance opposed to my pounding desire. He knows these impulsive reactions of mine are often dictated by fear, so he spies on me from below with dilated pupils. It invites me to fall into it - It's not good. My taste. - - Yes it is. - - It's n- … - - Sssssh… - the onomatopoeia rustles against my clit, forcing me to moan in exasperation. As if that wasn't enough, Jimmy doesn't need a voice to urge me to let him do it. He shakes his head: "enough", "no", rubbing left and right his nose and mouth over my heat. I don't think I've ever loved a nod as much as I do right now. I could comfortably enjoy his ministrations, but instead, I stand on tiptoe and peer at him with wide eyes. I imagine my short, quick, sharp breaths hitting his relaxed eyelids. His thick eyelashes. I didn't realize that my hands had become guardians of his and clung to them without the slightest discomfort. - How much… how much would I owe you if I were at one of those Tupperware parties? - I feel him smile against my pussy as he goes back to drawing quirky little things to keep my skin spots company. I see his eyebrows raise eloquently, a sign that he is regaining confidence. - Oh, very much. - he replies after a century. - All. - but I don't have time to provoke him as his rascal tongue marks ring after ring around my clit before kissing it and going down. He spoils my slit as if he were looking for the key to penetrate my cunt and, once he finds it, he does. - Mmh, my God Y/N. Mmmy God, you are so good that I don't want to eat or drink anything else anymore. - I never had the certainty that we would end up like this but now I can admit that I hoped so. Much. I lean blindly against Elsa's boudoir and knock over a bottle of perfume. An eye pencil rolls to the floor. I don't know what to do, I feel like I'm going insane as I reach behind Jimmy's head and push him towards me. I move my hips a couple of times before pressing myself hard on his face. I remain still and his muffled groan precedes his now firm grip on the flesh of my wet thighs. I dodge it in dizziness because this isn't how I want to come and I'm already incredibly close. Confused, glittering with my own juices on his frown, he observes me: he shines like an obscene star, prostrate to my will and not satisfied, however I have another idea.

Give it to me. - it's an order wrapped in velvet. I am peremptory in asking him to give me his hand which, under the passage of my thumbs, I open and extend, staring at it intensely. I spy on him like a voyeur in the "V" space that is created between the two fused segments of his "claws" and I smile mischievously at him before licking the junction point. Slowly, so that he realizes my intention. I go up a wet trail and go over it again as if I were actually writing the twenty-second letter of the alphabet. Then I dedicate myself to the palm, lapping it with my flat tongue as if it were a blueberry popsicle, my favorite. He is astonished, his mouth half-open in an expression that is initially stunned, then reshaped into an erotic drama that I could stare at for hours. Incredulous, he partly follows my movements, partly glances at me: his chin jutting forward and his eyebrows going from desperate to frowning. His body performs in two small jerks that induce him to stand up straight but still kneeling. - Oh, fuck dollface… - he hisses at the exact moment I swallow two of his fingers. There is something that he doesn't understand and that makes him restless. I slide along the joined phalanges and there is not a shadow of disgust on me. On the contrary, I spread my legs wide so that Jimmy notices that I am increasingly wetter. - I feel that… it's as if you were doing it to my cock… - he admits destabilized, unable to hold back the phantom spasms in his lower abdomen. He doesn't notice but, at my pace, he seeks friction in the scented air of Elsa's quarters. In nothing. This only adds to my pleasure, causing me to moan and bite his knuckles. - Ah! But how do you do it?! - I have no idea, I'm just hungry for him and the salivation increases like in the jaws of the wolf. I completely drench his hand, then place it on the stool before sitting back down. Jimmy nods with an expression that doesn't bode well, so he comes closer. - Just do it. Rub into my hand, do it. - he grabs my shoulder and presses me down but he doesn't control the undulations of my pelvis. I spontaneously begin to fuck the aforementioned hand in its entire length, from the wrist to the nails. Back and forth, as if on a swing that has nothing pure or childish about it. I abandon myself to a dotted moan that I address to the ceiling and my body memorizes JD's flesh. The scars, the veins, the rough and atypical paths. - N-now… - I meow crypticly, in a voice too low for him to immediately understand. He looks at me ecstatically, he stopped himself from doing anything and wonders how he managed it but now he's eager to understand what I want. - Now? What "now", honey? - he attacks my neck, repeating itself and making it even more difficult for me to stay clear. - Stick… stick them. Stick your gorgeous fingers inside me. - I'm begging him breathlessly and I wrap him in a hug so heartfelt that it seems my salvation depends on it. A sigh of relief hits my ear as a feeling of fullness creeps up on me. I try to pronounce his name but a lump in my throat prevents me. He compensates, spelling mine. - You're a goddess. - he studies me, curling his fingers against the exact point that makes me squirm. The robe miraculously hung on my now practically naked body, offered to Jimmy. The Lobster Boy is clear about which buttons to touch and insists on looming over my figure, which completely melts onto the carpet. - Jimmy… Jimmy… slowly, don't… I don't want it to end right away! - a voiceless laugh escapes him, too enthusiastic to censor it. We've waited too long, so he moves me on the bed like I'm cotton candy and lies on top of me, piercing me relentlessly.

I can do it again. - stab - And again. - stab - And again. Let yourself go, love… - he invites me not to hold back, adding his thumb to the bittersweet torture that has transformed me into an anthropomorphic wave. Jimmy would drown in it and so he does, kissing me with the transport of when he sings. He basically does this skimpy dance with me that allows him to rub up against me. Against his own hand rummaging perfectly through the folds of my impending orgasm. - I don't know… I don't know what… AH! - something in me is torn. Even before Jimmy can address his concern to me, I am overcome by a tsunami of ecstasy I have never faced before. The discordant note of the cry with which I come copiously, squirting on my lover, is added to the music of the event. Jimmy has the urge to get run over and so, stunned, he relieves himself. He urges me through clenched teeth as my essence drips down his stomach, hiding in his pubic hair and sliding down his muscular thighs. I stare at him, face blushed violently, out of breath or words. JD, dazed, uses my wetness to masturbate himself. - Is that what you want? Look at them. - he breathy refers to his hands; one slides along his lenght and the other caresses my shiny belly in the tumult of the night. He can't believe it, he is driven by the arousal he no longer masters. I am. For this reason, he bends over to briefly follow his gestures but then returns to observe me with pleading eyes. Shocked, I climb up his ivy-like body to kiss him intensely, then squat on the mattress. - Give those hands a rest. - I invite him again, prey to my own breath. I welcome his erection between my breasts, guarding it jealously in a coming and going that in a few seconds makes the boy tremble. - Y/N, fuck, Y/N if you don't… if you don't want me to-… - - Shut up and come, idiot. Give me everything. - - Fuckfuckfuck… ! -

He doesn't need to be told twice. Exhaling a bestial groan in his passionate humanity, he rests his knees against the bed frame. His head falls back and Elsa's robe - that barely acts as a cloak - comes off the sweaty skin of his back. That purple and expensive detail that dresses his non-existent modesty makes the scene one of the most amazing I've ever witnessed. I gaze at him in total adoration as his boyish features twitch and pearly splashes sign my bliss. Face, collarbones, shoulders. Jim, in the grip of his latest convulsions, holds my hair in his fists. He has no voice to make himself heard but he steps back slightly and chuckles while cursing. He peels off Elsa's robe and uses it to clean up first me, then himself, grinning evilly as he wraps the fabric around his cock. - Uh, that's what "normal people" do. - I comment, excited by his bold choice. - Elsa will be happy to find out that the birthday boy had fun. - he pants, throwing the dirty garment on the bed. - Leave yours there too. - he invites me to imitate him and then take me by the hand pulling me up. Tight in a naked embrace, we follow the distant trail of a well-known song, staring at each other with soapy eyes. A few seconds of paradise finally found in four arms, until a creaking alarms us. - Come on, it's time to get to stepping. - Jimmy says, picking up our clothes around the tent. I help him, complaining: - Oh, no. Are we ready to leave forever? - he, for a moment, forgets the possibility of being caught and stares at me intensely. - We are. - immediately afterwards we threw ourselves out of the back exit, immersed in a clandestine darkness. I feel his warmth. His breathing. Our fingers intertwine. - We are - he repeats - but we are not finished here. - I remain silent while I get dressed, I let the buzz of the nocturnal insects speak for me. - Is that so? - I ask, finally. Jimmy re-fastens his trousers, while I scan the summery contours of his beauty. - No. I have to fuck you first in all the places that made us sad. Making love for real, anywhere, until the fucking circus collapses. Then… we'll leave. - I grab his injured hand and threaten the burnt skin without the real intention of hurting him. - Promise me. - - They'll cut off my hands if I lie. - - Happy Birthday, Lobster Boy. - Ladies and Gentlemen: I found Jimmy Darling.

taglist: @taintandviolent @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth @lacucarachapisser + Please, If you want to be added or I forgot someone, let me know!

[kalinysu]

so; imagine lower moon reader taking a big interest in gyutaros physique and ever since they got the chance/luck to watch him at his work, lower moon reader draws his body structure, different poses/posture and movement when he battles/rests!

one day they didnt pay enough attention/mind to notice him sneaking up on them since they we're to drowned in their doodles.. and he snatches it 'nd reader gets embarrassed and tries to clarify since they never really had interaction

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐌𝐄? — Gyutaro x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None.

𝐍𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬: Cute idea, and so sorry i took so long! I’ve been pretty busy and may not be able to write again as soon as i’d like to.

You had always been an artist, even in your human years. Now up until you became a lower moon. You stayed dedicated to your job as a 12 kizuki of course, but you couldn’t help but draw everytime you got the chance. Especially now that you’ve discovered the existence of upper six. At first, you didn’t know that they were two demons. You thought there was only one, the girl. But soon after you came to find out she had a brother, Gyutaro.

And sooner or later, you took an interest in his physique, and just the way he looked. You were quick to make sketches of his battle stances and even just the way he sits. You had never seen anyone like him, of course. So naturally you were very curious about him. You admired his build, and the markings on his face. Even his hair, you took a special interest in. One day, you were sitting alone in the infinity castle, scribbling away in your notebook.

You didn’t speak much to the other demons unless absolutely necessary, so nobody really approached you. You figured you were safe to draw the demon once again since you supposed nobody would come near you.

You shifted to a more comfortable position to sit in, until you noticed a shadow over you. You had been so focused on drawing you didn’t even realize. You hesitated for a moment, before looking up, only to be met face to face with the very man who was filling up all the pages in your sketchbook. Your eyes widened, and before you could react your journal was gone, and Gyutaro was faced away from you, looking through it. “—W-wait, give that back!” You said, jumping to your feet to try and retrieve it. He simply shoved you away, his face buried in the book.

You couldn’t tell how he’d react, but you were afraid he might not appreciate you drawing him. “Is this me?” He asked with an amused chuckle, his palm pressed against your forehead to keep you from getting close to the book. You froze, no longer trying to get it back. It was far too late. “U-uh.. Y-yes but—“ You stutter, clearing your throat a bit. “I-I just thought you looked cool and.. thought I would draw you..” You said, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything, continuing to flip through the pages. Honestly, he was impressed. Nobody had ever drawn him before, and on top of that you thought he was cool? That’s something he’s never heard in his life. “Can I have these?” He asked, looking down at you. You stared in shock. Have them? He wasn’t mad? “U-uh—Of course!” You said, feeling a little more confident. He handed you the book, not wanting to rip any of the drawing with taking them out. You carefully took a few pages out and handed them to him. “How come your only drawing me? Am I that weird looking?” He asked, using his free hand to scratch at his skin.

“N-no!! Not at all! It’s just.. Your.. Really, really cool..” You mumbled. He was shocked, really. He leaned down to look at your face, tilting his head. “You mean that..?” He asked. You nodded, looking away from him. Your cheeks flushed pink from the sudden closeness. “That’s.. Intriguing.” He said with a small grin, followed by a chuckle.

“Do you think you can draw me more?” He asked. You looked back at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. “M-more?” He nodded. “Yeah, can you do that?” He questioned. “Y-yeah! I can!” You said, moving back to where you were sitting before on top of a cushioned platform. He followed, sitting slightly behind you. You were a little nervous, having the person you were drawing for so long watching you. You picked up your pen and began to draw, eventually, you felt his head resting on your shoulder.

He still couldn’t believe that someone like you would want to draw someone like him, and actually took an interest him. He was always labeled as ugly so naturally he didn’t understand. “Why me?” He suddenly asked, causing you to look at him from the corner of your eye, turning your head a little. You smiled. “Why not?” You said. “Why would you want to draw someone as displeasing as me?” He asked once more, genuinely curious. “I don’t think your displeasing at all.”

“Man, you’re a weird one.” He said with a chuckle, before focusing back onto your drawing.

[yyokkki]

Asking to Sketch Them

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

Honestly a bit shocked you’d ask him

But he’s had practice from posing for family portraits, so he isn’t too nervous

Until you say you want the backdrop to be Heartslabyul’s garden

It doesn’t break any rules… but that doesn’t mean someone else won’t break any rules

He doesn’t collar people as often as he used to, but he still makes it a point to lecture rulebreakers on the importance of said rule

So imagine the strain on his face when Ace walks by with a vase full of roses and it’s Wednesday.

In the end Ace sits beside you while Riddle gives a long lecture, keeping the rest of his body perfectly still so it doesn’t interfere with your work

You are sweating in fear. 6/10 a good model but it’s hard to draw when your model is half yelling at the dude sitting right next to you

Trey Clover

Might hesitate to say yes because he’s a busy guy,,

I mean they have tea parties like everyday and he’s always in charge of sweets-

You say he can go about his business and that you’re going to capture him in his natural habitat then he agrees

Raises an eyebrow cuz you make it sound like you’re on national geographic but ok

Anyways you’re drawing him while he’s baking and damnnn those biceps pop when he’s whisking

Secretly, however, he’s been holding back for a while now/

When you’re least expecting it he comes closer to you… and bam whipped cream on the side of your face

Devolves into flour tossing and chaos

6/10 you got whipped cream on your sketchbook and it was half finished but it was a fun memory

Cater Diamond

“OMS YAY of course ;DD”

Internally screaming because his makeup isn’t that good today and why him I mean there are better looking people in nrc and maybe he can get his clone to do it instead-

Overthinker fr

He’s a bit stiff at first, trying to only show his good side and checking his camera constantly to see if his smile looks good

If you’re close and you start talking to him about something he’s passionate about while you’re sketching he’ll loosen up a bit and his pose becomes a lot more natural

Eventually forgets you’re even drawing him and now it’s just him showing his true colours

Takes a pic of your finished sketch along with the both of you and posts it on magicam #muse #artistbestie

8/10 the sketch turned out well and you had a nice chat 

Deuce Spade

Has never been asked this question in his life

Boy is so stiff and awkward pls baby

He smiles like Oga from Beelzebub at first

Pls pls pls get this boy to do something else while you’re drawing him to get him to relax

Might be studying across the table from you while having a nice chat

Forgets you’re drawing him eventually pt.2

Tbh moves around a lot especially if a senior enters the room cuz he makes it a point to turn around and greet them while standing up

Is a bit surprised when you say you’re done because shit I forgot and I moved so much im sorry-

Also takes a picture of the sketch

Texts his mom the pic “I made a really good friend who’s great at drawing :D”

Will ask if you can draw a portrait of him and his mom together when you get the chance (will pay for it he just doesn’t know about the concept of commissions TT)

4/10 he’s so precious but not the best model tbh id still ask him again idc

Ace Trappola

Little shit (affectionate)

Not hard to make him agree but boy will he give you shit for it “my face is just that handsome ig” “you want me to get nude?” someone kiss him and make him shut up

At first he’s making a bunch of dumb faces and exaggerated poses and once he determines that you’re sufficiently annoyed he starts actually posing normally

Might get up halfway through and start stretching or laying down cuz he got tired though

Depending on how late he slept the night before and if you’re keeping quiet so he doesn’t get the chance to tease you, he might fall asleep

His sleeping face is cute so it works out for you ehe

When you’re done he acts all non chalant and smug about it but inside he’s sooo happy damn tsundere

Asks if he can draw you next and draws a potato with three dots on it <3

2/10 its only easy when he falls asleep but he’s cute so ill give him 1 extra point

-----

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Graphic design is not my passion dear lord i really need to read a guide on how to format tumblr posts TT

Also first time writing omg depending on my mood next part will either be out tomorrow or next month see yall

[pleasingsatellite]

Could you do Matilda Djerf

liked by harrystyles, anthonypham and 325,299 others

yourinstagram what am I going to do without Pham taking my ootd pics everyday :(

view all 2,373 comments

harryfan1 just imagine looking in the mirror and this is what you see everyday. A DREAM

harryfan2 make harry take them

↳ anthonypham if you think my photos are blurry you should see his…

↳ yourinstagram you’re not wrong

↳ harrystyles heyyyyy, it’s an artist choice.

↳yourinstagram it’s a choice for sure!

harryfan3 this comment section has me dying

harryfan4 it’s okay harry I’d give you my lung for you to take my OOTD pics

liked by annetwist, yourinstagram and 45,827 others

harrystyles 2022 changed my life.

I can’t begin to thank all of you who supported me through it, I’ll never forget it. I hope your end of year is filled with happiness and calm.

Love you all.

See you next year. H”

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harryfan1 you are the loml just wanted to let you know

gemmastyles it’s chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaaas

↳yourinstagram are we still on for our baking day 🥺

↳gemmastyles of course can’t wait to see you!

↳harrystyles my invite must have gotten lost…strange

↳gemmastyles no you just weren’t invited sorry! mom said you make too big of a mess 🤭

harryflorals I’m so proud of you bestie! See you next year

liked by gemmastyles, harrystyles and 292,739 others

yourinstagram it snowed the minute I touched down in London happy holidays 🫶🏻

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harryfan1 thank you for the snow queen!

gemmastyles my bestie is homeeeee

harryfan2 mother nature had you coming home on her schedule

harryfan3 yessss, we’re about to get the best winter fits

harrystyles it’s giving snow queen.

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 47,628 others

harryupdates harry landed in LA today and some fans who met him at the airport said he mentioned he would be heading back to England as soon as he can to celebrate with his family 🥺

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harryfan1 sir wtf are you doing in LA…..

harryfan2 okay but i’m so happy he’s going home for christmas

harryfan3 he def did this to throw fans off so they don’t know when he’s going back home

harryfan4 he’s protesting because he didn’t get an invite to the girls baking day

↳ harryfan5 he’s petty so he probably was like oh I wasn’t invited? fine I just won’t come home ✌🏼

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yourinstagram Holiday baking with my ladies @ gemmastyles @ annetwist 🎄

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harryfan1 looking for a fourth baker dm me I can make a mean sugar cookie

harrystyles And apparently I make too much of a mess?!?

↳yourinstagram last time you came we spent the entire night scrubbing icing off the walls cause you set the mixer too high

↳ harrystyles made one mistake and I’m never invited again.

↳gemmastyles you almost burnt like half our cookies….

↳harrystyles can I at least provide entertainment next year?

↳ annetwist of course baby!

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harryflorals HARRY WITH A FAN TODAY IN LONDON THE FAN SAID HE WAS WITH Y/N LEAVING LUNCH

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harryfan1 WINTERRY FINALLY

harryfan2 I’ve missed the face hoodie so badly

harryfan3 winterry just looks like he smells like warm cookies

↳harryfan4 as the fan who met him I can confirm he smells like Christmas time ❤️

harryfan5 gonna wrap him in a warm blanket and put him in front of a fire

liked by pillowpersonpp, annetwist and 337,728 others

yourinstagram my personal photographer is back in town ❤️ (this was our 500th take I need pham and lloyd back)

📸 harrystyles

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harryfan1 harry being an instagram bf makes sense to me

harryfan2 I just know he was giving posing tips behind the camera as if he isn’t always like 🧍🏻✌🏼 in all his photos

anthonypham we can sit down and I can give some pointers in January don’t worry

harrystyles you’re just picky.

↳yourinstagram you couldn’t see my face in like 30 of the pictures harry…

↳harrystyles that’s my artist direction you just don’t understand.

liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 362,828 others

yourinstagram 500th holiday party this week

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harryfan1 oh so this is what it’s like to have friends!

harryfan2 green is 10000% your color queen

harryfan3 y’all remember that holiday dinner harry was seen at and his plate was just peas? my fav holiday memory

↳yourinstagram don’t remind me, he went back for 2nd and 3rd’s that night

harryfan4 gonna need an makeup tutorial

↳yourinstagram can post one tomorrow 🫶🏻

liked by gemmastyles, lizzo and 6,628,738 others

harrystyles happy holidays from my family to yours

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harryfan1 ITS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE HARRY POSTED HIS SO

harryfan2 was he hacked….

harryfan3 he’s dating an influencer and she’s teaching him her ways and I’m here for it

harryfan4 a non work related post in years thank god

yourinstagram he’s learning ya’ll 🫶🏻

got inspired for the first time in weeks and had to crank this bad boy out in like 45 minutes before it disappeared 🫶🏻

[jamiedc-they-them]

Past and present create a future (Platonic)

Requested Imagine:

"Hello!!! I was hoping if you still take Fallout requests if so, can you do a platonic child!reader with Cooper Howard/The Ghoul HeadCanons

The reader kinda reminds Cooper of his daughter, Janey but she’s ten and lived most of her life on the wasteland, and her personality is completely different, she’s cautious, blunt, and sarcastic kinda like Wednesday Adams but a bit personality mixture with Lily Iglehart & Nimona.

I just wanna see what their dynamic would be like, I’m a sucker for the found father trope."

Summary: Out in the wastelands, Cooper finds something he doesn't want to find: a reminder of what he's looking for.

AN/ This one is a bit shorter. Focused on the dynamic and more of like a scene showing that growing bond came to mind. I hope it's ok, anon! Reader is 16, as well.

You're a teen, he's seen plenty of those. Most try their luck with him, and then their lives end as teens.

You just don't even seem to clock him. Just lost in your own world.

He sees you walk into a shop, and walk out with a small pocket knife.

He follows you, and sees you sit on some stairs, using it to try open a can. It's not going well.

"You're using the wrong part of it," he says before he can stop himself.

You pause, looking up to him. Your eyes don't do the usual widening at both who and what he is. You just wait for him to explain further.

"You're killing the blade fast doin' that," he says.

You look at the can. He goes to offer some advice, when you fix it on your own.

You give him a thumbs up. For a moment, he flashes back to doing that stupid pose, and how his daughter did it too.

"You lost, mister?" you ask, dragging him back to the present.

"What?" he asks, gruff nature kickinvg back into gear.

You hold his gaze, looking unimpressed by his attempt at striking fear into you, "you look at me how other people do. Like I'm someone they know."

"How'd you figure that?"

"The grief in the eyes."

It's blunt, but he actually feels the hit of the words.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” he says as a warning.

“Comment like that says otherwise,” there's a teasing, but softer edge to your town. He tells himself its why he doesn't draw his weapon and threaten you.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N. But, rarely have I been lately with people remembering me as someone they actually know.”

He nods. A moment goes by as you finally have the can open, taking out what looks to be a kind of bean.

“You been alone for a while?”

You shake your head, “parents died a small time back. Tried to put up a bounty but had no caps.”

“Who killed them?”

You shrug, “some raiders. Let me keep my notebook.”

“Your notebook?”

You nod, putting the knife down and taking out your notebook. You open it, showing him its content.

Its art. Drawings of people and places. He thinks back to his daughter. In his heart, she is alive. Somewhere, somehow. Maybe she turned out like you. A creative person figuring themselves out, but a survivor.

“There that look again,” you say, “I'm sorry if this set something off.”

“No,” he says, “nah, you didn't, kid.”

“Well, well,” some cunt from behind says. You lean to the side, getting a better look at them, before rolling your eyes and continuing on with your beans, “seems the old Ghoul found a heart, boys.”

He doesn't have to turn around, as one of the aforementioned cunts walks into his line of vision, leaning on the stairs near you.

“Bradly,” you greet.

“Shitsquek,” Brad says back, “you know the drill.”

“What makes you think the caps, yet alone give them to you?”

He leans close, “you know what will happen.”

“You said that the past five times,” you point out, voice and face neutral, “sometimes I feel you just things like that make up for your lack of actual personality.”

“Your last name wouldn't happen to be ‘Jenkins’ would it?”

He swears he can feel the town shift then and there.

Brad backs off from you, looking at him, “n-no,” he says.

“Stutter says otherwise,” you point out.

“Can it!”

“I can't put the lid back on.”

Brad goes to say something, but the Ghoul whistles.

“Now, even before my little friend there made oh so clear the bullshit of your life; I have a feeling you might just be the Brad I'm looking for, as you look a hell of a lot like him,” he says, holding up a poster.

“You draw this?” Brad asks.

You nod, “told you said I needed inspiration.”

“You said you'd give it to Tiffany!”

“I did,” you shrug, “she said it would fetch a high enough price.”

Brad tries to go for your knife. His hand is gone the next moment. You grab your knife, driving it into him.

The Ghoul. spins around, on instinct blowing another friend away.

He hears a gun be cocked, then a choking sound. Another has your knife in his neck.

Then, silence.

The Ghoul takes his shot from his inhaler, before looking over the rest of the townsfolk.

“Anyone else?” he asks.

Everyone either continues what they're doing or shuts themselves inside. He chuckles.

He turns back to you. You retrieve your knife, then sit back on those stairs, eating your beans.

“You good?” he asks.

You nod, “thank you,” you say.

He nods, “where will you go now?”

You shrug, “just keep moving. Maybe Tiffany can give me some caps as thanks.”

He shuts his eyes. He sees his daughter. He has a full chat with her ghost, the image of the innocent girl he protected, and looks back to you once he opens his eyes again.

She said one thing to him:

“Look after them.”

“Well,” he says after a sigh, “why don't we split the caps, and you come with me?”

You pause your beans, looking to him, “why would you do that?” you ask.

“Because,” he says, “you're someone who deserves to see more of whats left of this shithole of the world and draw it in peace.”

You tilt your head, considering it, “who do I remind you of?”

He steels himself, then tells you:

“My daughter.”

That's all you need. You stand up, putting your notepad away, and walking to him.

“Then let's go get the caps and find her.”

“Thats it? That's all it took?”

“You're honest. People rarely in this world are anymore.”

He watches you walk off, still eating beans, to find Tiffany, and he looks down to his left. Janey beams up at him, proud.

He shakes his head, before following after you.

For once, something in his heart that he once thought lost:

Hope.

[talkintrashcann]

Sleeping beauty - Xavier Thorpe

Summery: You found your best friend sleeping in his shed, his body laying on something he was drawing before falling asleep. Little did you know, it was a drawing of you.

Warnings: fluff, kissing, best friends to lovers, if there's any others please let me know

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: im sorry if this is really bad, i didn't check the story after finishing it up so there's probably gonna be some mistakes in here. this is my first time ever posting on tumblr, this is all very new to me and idk how any of this works or if im doing it correctly so please let me know what you think. im always open for suggestions or feedback!

——————

Walking outside in the forest after dark wasn't your favorite activity to do but you got a little worried about your best friend, Xavier. You texted him a while ago asking if everything was alright and he hasn't replied back yet. You're aware that he likes to take his distance sometimes and wants to be alone, which you completely understand and respect. But you also knew that whenever something is wrong, he keeps it to himself even when he shouldn't. He knows that you have your own things to sort out sometimes and he doesn't want you to carry around his luggage too, he doesn't want to feel like a burden.

He has the perfect spot to go to whenever he wants to be alone, a place where he can let go and express himself. Out in the woods next to the school there's a shed somewhere, he cleaned it out with permission from Ms. Weems to turn it into his private art studio. So naturally that's the first place that came to mind when you found out he wasn't in his room.

After a 15 minute walk in the woods you finally spot the old shed, covered by loads of plants that grew onto it over the years. It was certain he was inside as the lights of his shed were turned on, and only he can enter the shed considering he's the only one with a key.

You open the door quietly, not wanting to scare him this late at night. Your eyes scan the room looking for your friend, but you frown as you dont see him immediately. You take a step further inside, being able to see the room more.

That's when you spotted him, sitting on his wooden stool while his upper body was leaning on his workbench. He was sleeping peacefully, not even waking up because of the door opening. And you can imagine it making quite some noise considering how long that shed has been standing there in the forest. His hair was partly tied up in a loose bun, while also being untied at the back. A few strands of hair had fallen over his eyes, mouth slightly open. You could hear him breathe very quietly, holding your own breath to prevent him from waking up because of any noise. Even though he wouldn't wake up so easily, but you still felt the need to not make a sound.

If you could take a picture of this very moment, you'd carry it with you anywhere you go. Your heart melts at the sight of him, you stand there almost dying from cuteness overload. There was no denying that you see him as more than just a friend, but you would never actually admit that to anyone. Some of your other friends knew about your little crush on him, but it looks like Xavier himself can't take a hint at all. You've tried dropping him subtle hints, some a little less subtle than others, but it has no use. He must be blind to not notice you flirting with him all the time, or at least try to. That or he knows you like him, but decides not to say anything about it, being too afraid to lose you as a friend because of it.

As you get lost in your own thoughts again, your eyes divert from his pretty face to what seems to be what he was drawing before he had drifted off into deep sleep, staring at what you see in shock.

Underneath his body, drawn on the paper, was you. He made a drawing of you petting a kitten near the lake. It had so much details in it, you would think that he made this on the spot while you were posing for it. Thinking back to when this happened, you remember it being from before you two were even friends. It was one of your first days at Nevermore and you hadn't made any friends yet, not any human friends at least. You had gone for a walk near the lake to clear your mind after class, meeting a cute little orange kitten while you were there. You don't remember anyone else being around, let alone it being Xavier.

It makes you wonder though, was he following you? If so, what was the reason? Even if that was a bit of a stalker move, you couldn't help but feel warm inside because of it. Maybe there was a chance he did like you more than a friend. You leaned in a little closer to him, pressing your lips lightly to his cheek. You don't know what came over you in that moment, but you really felt the need to do that. This might be the only time you get to do this, so why not.

Unfortunately that light touch was enough to wake sleeping beauty, Xavier's eyes fluttered open slowly and his arms pushed his body up from the table. He makes eye contact with you and frowns at the sight of you standing there so close to him in the middle of the night.

"What are you doing here?", he asked softly but his voice came out a little raspy.

You couldn't make a sound, your eyes nervously looking at Xavier, then at the drawing, and then back at Xavier. He followed the direction of your eyes, also looking at the drawing now. He had completely forgotten he was working on that before he fell asleep, his body filling with embarrassment now as he realizes what situation he's gotten himself into.

"Uh, I can explain..."

He got nervous and looked down at the floor, not wanting to look you in the eye right now. He knew he couldn't talk himself out of this, you needed an explanation and he couldn't think of a single excuse. His hands were fiddling with the hem of his shirt and his face was turning a dark shade of pink, his body language was telling you exactly what you needed to know.

Taking a deep breath before opening his mouth again to say something while still not looking at you, he was prepared to finally tell you how he feels about you. Before he could say a word you lifted his chin up and softly kissed his lips, catching him completely off guard. It didn't take very long for him to kiss you back though, he had been waiting for this moment for so long. It didn't happen the way he thought it would, but he was definitely not complaining about it.

His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you closer to him, you falling onto his lap as a result. After what felt like ages you slowly pulled away from him, not really wanting to but you needed to catch your breath.

For a moment it stays silent in the shed, neither of you making any noise. All that's happening is you two staring at each other, enjoying the moment while thinking about what just happened. Xavier is the first one to break the silence.

"Does this mean you like me? More than just a friend?", he asks hesitantly.

"Took you long enough to realize, I've been trying to tell you for so long but you never seem to notice.", you let out a soft laugh while wrapping your hands around his neck.

"Maybe you should do something about your flirting skills then, they're gonna need some improvement if your goal was to show me you liked me.", he couldn't stop himself from teasing you.

"Oh please, there's nothing wrong with my flirting skills. If you would just open your eyes for once you'd see-"

Before you had the chance to finish that sentence he smashed his lips on yours to shut you up. This time the kiss was much more passionate and lasted even longer than the previous one. You never could've imagined this was how your night was going to end.