#can be a little distracting for me. although i do love soft brush renders and if i could id love to learn how to render my pieces like that

[puppyeared]

what app + brushes do you use 🎤🎤🎤

procreate!!! im currently using a modified Narinder brush for lineart/sketching, and i tend to switch between monoline and tinderbox for coloring ^_^

[earliebirb]

i’ll save you a seat

steve/tony, established relationship, canon divergence, 1673 words

(inspired by this deleted scene from the avengers [2012])

“Waiting on the big guy?”

“Ma’am?” Steve looks up from his sketchbook, eyes squinting against the sunlight. 

He meets the gaze of one of the waitresses working at the café. Her long blond hair flows down to her chest and she is dressed in the café’s signature uniform: pastel orange blouse, black skirt, and a white half apron tied around her waist. 

“Iron Man,” the waitress clarifies, lips quirked up in a knowing smile. “A lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” Steve says, lips twitching at their inside joke. He opens his mouth to say something else, but a familiar silhouette in the distance catches his eye and breaks his train of thought. “Uh, actually…”

He nods at the sky. The waitress follows his gaze.

The object grows larger, approaching at a high speed. It morphs into a blur of red and gold that streaks across the blue sky right above them, sending a gust of wind that ruffles the waitress’ blond locks. The figure lands a short distance away from the café with a distinct metallic thunk — the sound of gold-titanium alloy hitting concrete. 

All around him, people begin to whisper among themselves with excitement, some even taking out their phones to document the spectacle. Although Steve can’t really say he enjoys the attention, warmth still blooms in his chest as he observes the approaching figure. He finds himself hiding an involuntary grin behind his hand.

“Always a dramatic entrance, huh?” The waitress chuckles.

“You know it.” Steve sighs with fond exasperation. All eyes are on Tony as he walks toward the outdoor area of the café, the nanotech suit peeling away from his body. The excited murmurs and whispers increase in volume.

When Tony finally arrives at the table, he bends down to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “Good morning, beloved.”

“Mr. Stark-Rogers,” the kind waitress greets with a smile. “The usual?”

“Please, Beth. I told you to call me Tony.” Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses a few inches down the bridge of his nose, giving her a disapproving look that makes her chuckle. “And yes, please. Thank you.”

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says before disappearing into the indoor part of the café to relay the order. Steve knows she means it, too. She’ll make sure of it, just like she always has for the past few years.

The café had been Steve’s favorite café, at first. He visited the place often, especially during his first few weeks in the twenty-first century. He developed a fondness for their sesame seed bagels and the lovely view of Stark Tower from his favorite outdoor table, although the latter is a fact Steve would never admit to Tony even on pain of death. 

However, the café quickly became Steve and Tony’s favorite café when their reluctant camaraderie bloomed into friendship all those years ago. Even before they started dating, Steve and Tony already established a weekly ritual of having brunch at the café whenever their schedules aligned. 

Tony did eventually admit to Steve that he found the café’s coffee to be subpar. He did, however, insist that the café was his favorite, albeit for reasons different from Steve’s. Not for the bagels, not for the exceptional view of Stark Tower, and definitely not for the coffee, but because the café was a place full of memories. His memories of the two of them, his memories of Steve:

“That café was where I first made you laugh. Like, really laugh. I’d seen you smile or chuckle before, but that kind of full-body laughter? That was a first. And I remember thinking that… I really, really liked the way you laughed.”

It has been seven years since Steve first sat at this very table and sketched the figure of Stark Tower looming before him. Beth is still working at the café, having made her way through the ranks. Now a co-owner of the café, she has developed a friendship of sorts with Steve and Tony — both of whom she claims to be her favorite regulars. Tony likes to joke about how she probably says that to all of her regulars, something Beth always denies vehemently. 

Steve turns his attention back to Tony, who has taken off and folded his sunglasses, letting them hang from the collar of his shirt. 

“Would it kill you to take the elevator and walk?”

“It’s not like I do this every single time. Besides, why take the elevator when you have a flying suit? That’s just ineffective.” Tony makes a face as he pulls his chair out.

“‘S good exercise.”

“I exercise plenty.” Tony sits down on the chair across from him, scooting closer to the table. Under the table, his ankle brushes Steve’s. “Besides, we just engaged in a vigorous workout session this morning.” Tony bites his lower lip, giving Steve a lascivious wink.

“Tony,” Steve reprimands, but finds himself unable to say anything further, not when the back of his neck is heating up at the memory of what they were up to just a few hours ago. While Steve immediately showered afterward and headed straight to the café, Tony decided he wanted to sleep for a few more hours, promising to join Steve later. 

Tony grins before leaning forward on his elbows to peer at Steve’s sketch.

“Which lucky building are you sketching today, honeybunch?”

He squints and frowns when instead of a building he finds a rough and nondescript sketch of a person’s face. 

It could be anyone to the untrained eye, but Steve’s pen strokes are sure and confident, having rendered the same jawline countless of times. 

Every single time, Tony’s figure never fails to fascinate him. Always so beautiful from every angle, in every light. Steve knows it well enough by now to be able to sketch him simply from an image in his mind’s eye. 

Still, nothing beats the real thing. Steve takes in the sweep of Tony’s dark lashes and his coffee brown eyes as he appraises the drawing.

“It’s not a building,” Steve says instead. 

Tony hums noncommittally, tilting his head at the sketch and giving it one last look before leaning back in his seat. “How was your morning run?”

“Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tony says distractedly, his attention on Beth who is once again approaching their table with his cup of coffee, black as midnight.

Tony engages in more small talk with Beth as she sets the cup and saucer on the table, asking after her husband and kids. There is an easy and carefree smile on his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

All the while, his fingers are fiddling with two sugar packets Steve knows he will only use one of. He is always buzzing with energy, parts of him always in a state of perpetual motion, finding it near impossible to stay still. 

Steve also knows that he won’t finish the coffee because it wasn’t made by Steve or himself.

These little idiosyncrasies are details that make up Tony, the little quirks that only Steve knows.

The little things that make you mine, Steve thinks privately. He feels something inside him softening at the thought.

“Sorry, honey,” Tony says when Beth eventually leaves to take another table’s orders, his smile soft and affectionate. “You were saying? Running was uneventful?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, “nothing really interesting.” He admires the way sunlight turns the tips of Tony’s dark hair into a lighter shade of brown. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still the highlight of my morning.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes, but his lips curve up into a pleased smile and his brown eyes are warm with affection as he meets Steve’s gaze. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The band of vibranium around his husband’s ring finger gleams in the late morning sunlight.

“I better be, after waking you up with one hell of a—”

“Tony!” Steve exclaims, knocking his ankle against Tony’s in warning. “Stop it.”

“What? It’s the truth! You really did enjoy it when I—”

“There are children around,” Steve hisses, casting a furtive glance at a nearby table occupied by a family of four. 

Tony laughs softly, his shoulders shaking with it. Still holding his gaze, he brings Steve’s hand to his lips, pressing two feather-light kisses to the back of his hand. He continues holding Steve’s hand against his mouth, and when he speaks Steve feels his lips and the bristles of his goatee brushing his skin.

“Sorry, baby, I can’t help it.” Tony hides a smile against Steve’s knuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you blush.”

Steve looks down, avoiding Tony’s eyes in favor of staring at the cookie crumbs next to his half-full cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. His cheeks are still burning, and Tony’s words are not helping.

“See?” Tony says, before planting a kiss to his knuckles. “So pretty.”

Steve shuts his eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please just drink your coffee.”

Tony chuckles again but Steve hears the clink of ceramic, a cup being lifted from its saucer. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

He only allows himself to open his eyes when Tony gets distracted by some pigeons, immediately launching into a spiel about the one time he was attacked by a pigeon who was apparently really determined to steal his sandwich.

Steve nods along dutifully, reacting at appropriate times throughout the story, but all he can think of is that sitting there, at a café’s outdoor table on Park Avenue on a bright Sunday morning, his husband sat in front of him talking a mile a minute, is that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

His gaze falls down to where Tony’s hand is still holding his, even when his other hand is gesturing animatedly as he tells his story.

Yes. Steve thinks, smiling helplessly at the twinkle in Tony’s eyes — the one that appears whenever he gets excited. I’m home. 

[wandsandwheezes]

Ares | F.W

WARNINGS // 1.8k // SMUT 18+, Ares!Fred AU, God!Fred AU, Unprotected Sex, Degradation, Overstimulation, Aggression, Shouting, Anger, basically PWP but there’s a lil plot.

A/N // Hi so, unfortunately I got inspired and this is the result whoopsie, basically me and @darthwheezely​ are hoes xoxo I don’t normally write Fred stuff.... but here we are so enjoy.

Ares is the god of war, one of the Twelve Olympian Gods and the son of Zeus and Hera. In literature Ares represents the violent and physical untamed aspect of war. Although Ares embodied the physical aggression necessary for success in war, the Greeks were ambivalent toward him because he was a dangerous, overwhelming force that was insatiable in battle.

–

You knew he was mad, from just the way he had stormed back past you, ignoring the glimmer of hope in your eyes as he continued his pursuit to the grand hall. You daren’t try to stop him, not when his skin was hot from fury and rage, instead you decided on letting him cool down, to no avail. Soon after his arrival home, all that could be heard was the loud clambering of chalices and dishes as he threw them in anger, the barrelling sound of his voice as clear as day as it echoed around every hall of your home.

Perhaps he needed distraction, although you feared he did not want to see you, you were adamant that you being there would do him some good in stilling the fury that bubbled inside of him.

You had attempted to pass the guards who were currently protesting against you going to see Fred, standing protectively in front of the wide-open entrance. These two burly protectors were the only thing that stood between you and your lover and that thought alone made you smile nonchalantly at the two guards, pushing past them quicker than they could stop you and protest.

You had just made it up the small set of stairs just in time for you to see yet another metal platter clamber against the once pristine wall, the beautifully prepared food disintegrating to shreds as it collided with the stone. His back was the first thing you saw, rippling muscles prominent through the thin veil of the purple cloak that covered one of his arms. You cleared your throat, a small voice practically whispering his name to draw his attention to you. “Freddie?”

“Little rose...You look glorious.” His tone of voice had shifted cleanly from the gravelly yells to the affectionate hum he had when he had set his eyes on you. The white chiffon draped sensually across your body, the delicate material struggling to keep your breasts from spilling while every curve of your body lay in wait, begging to be grasped. Your hair, while out of your face, had curled beautifully down your back, flecks of gold leaf and rose petals scattered across your locks.

With his eyes fixed on you and you alone, you made the choice to close the gap between the two of you. With every step towards him you took in his sweat covered chest and biceps, wanting nothing more than for him to wrap his strong arms around you, to hold his attention for just enough time for his anger to fade.

“You may be mine, but yet you flaunt yourself around the walls in that pathetic material for all to see.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his veiny hand reaching up to tug enough at the material for it to fall, exposing your chest for him, his aide and the various servants that were scattered around the hall, mostly trying to clear the path of distraction that Fred had caused. 

“Leave us.” He spoke quickly, eyes not moving from the way they were fixated on yours, his fingertips ghosting over your shoulder and down your arm, lips inches away from each other. The soft breeze that flowed through the room had the fabric swaying as it hung at your hips, the faint chill of the air hardened your nipples as you stood before him.

“Truly, you’re so pathetic, aren’t you, petal?” His hot touch was tilting your chin up enough for him to control your movements. His lips trailing faint whispers of kisses down your neck, rendering you breathless, speechless and craving him entirely.

“Speak when spoken to, pet.” He growled, his vice-like grip on your jaw tightening, pushing your lips in a pout as you attempted to speak the words you needed through shaky breaths.

“I-I’m your pathetic girl, Freddie.” 

“That’s right, you are.” He was now hoisting you up effortlessly, large hands gripping possessively at your thighs as he adjusted the way you sat on his hips. As soon as he sat back against his throne, your knees were pushed further apart so that you could straddle him, his hands moving to keep you pulled in close to him, your hands messily holding onto his neck to steady yourself.

His touch alone had you seeking the relief your aching cunt was screaming out for, hips moving in the hopes of just a fraction of pleasure as your swollen clit dragged across layers of smooth fabric.

“Little one, what do you think you’re doing there, hm?” He tutted, a hand immediately finding the coils of hair, disrupting the rhythm of your moving hips and the intricately placed style of your hair. His harsh grip tugged away at the curls, displaying your neck for him.

“First you whore yourself out for everyone’s eyes, now you think you can sit there and get yourself off, did I say you could do that?” He snarled, lingering fingertips bruising your thighs as he stilled your movements with heated touch.

“N-No, Fred, ‘m sorry.” You whimpered, knowing that you were pushing your luck when it came to Fred’s temperance with anger. He would more often than not subject you to bear the brunt of his frustrations, his loathsome anger that overcame him as he dominated you. He wanted you to know that he was the God here, and that any other man for miles would kill to be him.

“Count yourself lucky I’m not parading you outside and showing every man and woman of this village just who makes you feel so good.” He chuckled, letting go of your hair, your upper body crashing down against his chest as his hands bunched up the pooling fabric at your thighs, shifting your hips to sit directly over what you needed from him the most.

“You’d like that though, bet you’d have preferred my aide stay watch us rut like breeding bunnies, isn’t that right, Jewel?” He was pulling himself free, letting his hard cock spring free. 

You found yourself nodding, at a loss for words as he teased your entrance, daring to push in with antagonistic flare. He wanted to have you begging for every inch, even if that took hours on end.

“Speechless already, youngling?” He smirked his mind tugged edge to edge with a passionate need to fill you. The second his cockhead has pushed past your entrance, you found yourself hissing.

“Don’t tease me, Freddie.”

“I don’t think you’re in a good position to be giving me orders here, little rose.”

“But I-” You went to protest, instead you were met with his hand wrapped around your throat, firm grip against your windpipe as he brought your lips down to his in a tempered kiss.

“Who’s in charge, say it nice and loud for me.”

“You, Fred.” You whined, his hand still wrapped around your throat, instead of praising you he squeezed a little harder and whispered as his lips grazed against your cheek.

“Louder, let those guards standing outside hear you.”

“You Fred, you’re in charge.” You hissed out, feeling himself pull your hips down to sheath fully inside you. He didn’t need to tease you anymore as he set a godly rhythm, fucking up into you with all the force and might entrusted in him.

Sex with Fred was like being in the clouds, he was able to send you into a state of euphoria every single time but you were greedy, taking every girthy inch he could give you, yet you begged for more. He simply would chuckle and oblige, giving you release after release that had you screaming and clawing at his back. You could handle it, especially the way he would have you a brainless mess so quickly.

He had you now bent over the nearest table he could get you pressed on, ass on full display for him as he pushed himself inside you once more, his cock filling you to the hilt over and over again, his thrusts rocking the creaky table loudly as lewd moans spilled from your lips, the sound mixing perfectly with his deep grunts of passion.

“Mine. All fucking mine.” He groaned, like a chant, repeating it again and again, hands pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts with a bruising touch as he claimed you for what you already were; his.

Everyone surely knew by now who was fucking you, who was causing you to scream out for him as you begged him not to stop, your stamina hardly touched as you craved another release.

This time he had you up against the stone wall, back pressed firmly against the harsh gravelly texture as he hooked a leg up on his hip, taking you as his forehead pressed against yours, you had both hardly removed any of the material that covered your bodies, instead working with the fabric until it flowed together in the open breeze.

“You want more, petal? I’ll give you fucking everything.” He moaned out for you, your hands cupping his jaw as your eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, unable to stop the wave of pleasure that coursed through every inch of your body. You couldn’t count the releases you had endured but you didn’t want him to stop. 

He had pushed you over the edge twice more before his own seed was released inside you, completely overwhelmed by the feeling. The way his hips stuttered and stilled before feeling his silky release mixed with yours dripping down your thigh, made you realise that he was more than just a God, he was your God and you were the luckiest woman in all to bed him at your desire.

“I love you, my radiant Goddess.” He murmured, nose brushing against yours as he cradled you into his arms, letting your breathing steady and your mind return back to him as his hands massaged over every roughly gripped inch of your skin.

You loved him too, more than he would ever be able to comprehend.

“What had you so mad, Freddie?” You whispered, reaching up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling up at him lovingly. 

“Someone dared call you an easy whore, I had to show them that nobody calls you a whore but me, pet.” 

“Is that so?” You poked, leaning up to press your lips to his, the kiss lingering in entangled lips for a moment before his aide had burst into the room, forcing you to snap your head to look at the man who had coughed, Fred’s hands came to turn your body into face his, lifting the flimsy material to cover you and protect your modesty upon the intrusion.

“Sorry to disturb, but there’s an urgent matter with your Fa–” his aide spoke quickly, eyes avoiding Fred’s out of awkwardness.

“Tell my Father to go fuck himself, I’m busy.”

“Fred, don’t do that for me–”

“I’m busy, now go.” He spat, ignoring your protest, eyes following his aide as he scurried off hurriedly.

“Now where were we?” He smirked, tilling your chin up again before pressing his lips to yours again. 

“Ah, right here it seems.”

taglist //  @pansydaisy​ @feetoffthetablee​ @darthwheezely​ @http-caitwo​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @theweasleytwinsgirl​ @pandaxnienke​ @turtletaylor98​ @lumos-barnes​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @amxrtentias​

[obae-me]

Oh The Horror

Mammon/Reader, Mammon/MC, fluff

Word Count: 1461

Note: Is my formatting ever the same? Not really. But I had to write Soft Mammon so I hope extreme cuddles distracts from that enough. 

Curses, hexes, witches, ghosts, monsters of all sorts, literal hell, and yet the second most powerful pillar of the Devildom couldn’t stomach horror. It was something you still had a hard time comprehending, but after time you just learned to accept it. Anything that was even remotely frightening had Mammon screaming within seconds. Of course, whenever you were around, he tried his best to keep his composure, but he still flinched and clung to anyone within reach like his life depended on it. 

It was so bad, his brothers didn’t even bother to use horror as a tactic to get revenge. Often. 

He’s getting better, you thought. Tonight you, Satan, Mammon, and Levi all sat together and watched an old human classic. The Grudge. Initially, Mammon hadn’t even been invited to the movie night, solely because he wouldn't be able to take it. But his stubborn nature and somewhat big head had him announcing that, he was the Great Mammon, he could handle a human movie. 

He couldn’t. 

Within the first ten minutes, he was stuck to your side and quite literally trembling. His siblings shook their heads, the slightest hint of sympathy--mostly for you--in their eyes before they allowed themselves to focus on the screen. It was difficult for you to pay attention however, when the self-proclaimed Great Mammon was a fearful mess. This hadn’t been the first time this had happened for sure, but it had been the first time he stuck to you rather than running for his brothers. It...was heartwarming. You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, assuring him that he was okay. Luckily, he wasn’t aware of Satan’s and Levi’s growing irritation, their eyes flickering back to you and him in jealousy that he was getting all the attention. A loud scream made Mammon shout in return, his posture shrinking as he leaned partially in your lap. He stayed that way for the whole movie, hiding his face in your shoulder, not even watching the film anymore. 

And you thought that had been the end of it. 

He acted up a big game for sure, despite his shaky voice, saying that it hadn’t been that bad. Then he left rather quickly, speeding off to Diavolo-knows-where while you were dragged into an in-depth discussion with the remaining demons. They’d adored it, Satan getting into the nitty gritty of cinematography details while Levi was thrilled with the Japanese culture. You didn’t have many comments. The subject at the forefront of your mind was Mammon. He will be fine by tomorrow, you figured. 

Soon, all of you went to bed. Before you could rest easy, you shot Mammon a goodnight message, your eyes refusing to shut till he texted back a simple ‘night.’ It still seemed off, although maybe it was just your paranoia. So before unease could keep you awake, you shut off your lights and settled under your covers. 

“M...MC...MC…” Someone woke you up as they kept calling your name, your shoulder gently shaken. You turned in bed, blinking as you reached towards your nightstand lamp. It blinded you for a second when it flicked on, your eyes adjusting to the new brightness. Mammon was in your room, wearing a white t-shirt and yellow shorts. 

“Mammon? What time is it?” You rubbed the sleepy layer of sleep off your eyes, your vision a bit clearer. He was crying, shaking, barely keeping himself together. You shot up in bed. “What’s wrong? What happened?!” 

“S-shadow...s-saw a...in my--in my room,” he shuddered, shallow tears drifting down his face as his white hair tried to cover his eyes. Just the sound of his broken tone left you devastated. 

“You got scared?” You didn’t sound condescending or disappointed, you came across as gentle and affirming. Mammon nodded his head, shifting his weight to each of his feet as he couldn’t stand still. “Mammon…” You pulled back some of the blankets, outstretching your arms to him. “Come here.” 

Who knew what it was that drove you to such actions? Your still half-asleep brain? Your hidden feelings for him coming into view? His vulnerable nature unlocking some sort of instinct? You didn’t know, but it didn’t stop you from going forth with these impulses. 

He collapsed into you, arms wrapped tightly against your torso. Whimpering, he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. You let him cry a little bit longer, letting him release pent up emotions as you stroked the back of his head, playing with his smooth strands of hair. “I’m sorry you were scared, but it’s okay. Do you want to stay with me tonight?” His body slowly stabilized as he sniffled, nodding against you. “Then how about you clean up your face and turn off the light?” You prodded at his sides and a short breathy laugh bubbled out of him as you hit his ticklish spots. 

He sat up, grabbing a few tissues from the box by your bed and drying his face, a few comically loud blows of his nose almost made you chuckle. Hesitantly, he reached for the light. As soon as he turned it off, he lunged for you, the weight knocking you back against your pillow. He curled up against you, his legs rapidly entwined with yours as his head rested on your chest. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he listened to your heartbeat, using the pace to match his breaths. Leaning a bit forward, you kissed his head, gently raking your fingers up and down the skin of his back as you lightly scratched him, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Maybe don’t watch horror movies right before bed,” you suggested.

He sounded muffled against your body, the vibrations of his voice sending a pleasing sensation through your body. “I can...do what I want,” he muttered, the tsundere act much weaker than usual. “I’m notta baby or anything…”

“Not a baaaaaby?” You teased, watching him blush and turn his head from you. “Baby, baby boy, baby Mammon,” you continued, feeling him growl. 

“Stop it already...you can’t just go sayin’ that…” 

The heart in your chest pounded rapidly for a minute. Mammon felt it and nestled his face into you again. He soaked in your affection, his shudders resembling purrs in his chest. You’d doubted he had ever had a moment like this. To be completely vulnerable without fear of being mocked. You brushed away some of the strands from his forehead to look at his face. Bewilderment. Embarrassment. Most of all, peace. It was like he’d found some new sort of treasure that rendered him speechless; a treasure so radiant that he could do nothing but observe and take it in with an awed silence. He adjusted his head with a little moan, one of his hands gripping at the fabric of your sides.

And in the swell of it all, you couldn’t help yourself. “I love you.” 

He stiffened, his breath coming to a halt as he moved from your chest to the pillow, his face right next to yours. Even in the dark of night, you could tell he was blushing, you could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. The sparkle of greed flickered past his eyes. “What did you say?” 

“I...I said I love you,” you answered, brushing your knuckles against the side of his face, one finger twirling around his ivory hair. Then he kissed you, a little peck against your face. 

“Say it again?” 

A little confused, you humored him. “I love you.” 

Another quick kiss against your cheek. “Again.” 

“I love you.” 

A kiss against your forehead. “Again.” 

You giggled this time. “Mammon, I love you.” 

One kiss over each eyelid. “Again!” 

You started stating ‘I love you’ over and over and over again, Mammon giving you a new kiss for each one, littering your shoulders, your face, your neck with all sorts of little pecks. His greed was too much for you, so you gave up quickly, descending into soft laughter as you held the sides of his face in your palms. His watery eyes shimmered a beautiful cerulean in the moonlight. You rubbed your thumb over his cheekbone, pleased to discover that his eyes were dry. He sighed contentedly, or as contentedly as the demon of greed can, a strange expression on his face. 

It was his turn to caress your cheeks, the bottom of his lip quivering once before he gently pressed his lips against yours. “I was scared…” He paused for a second, and you thought he was about to describe whatever thing he had seen in his room, but instead, he surprised you, kissing you once more. “I was scared I’d never hear you say it...I love you too.”

[the-last-kenobi]

AHHH YOU’RE TAKING REQUESTS 🚨🚨🚨 Okay okay uhhhhh I can’t decide between 13 or 18 so you choose! With hurt Obi-Wan and caretaker Anakin, please!

I AM INDEED TAKING PROMPTS

And because you’re amazing and I love all your writing I have decided to write both 13 and 18 into one story, we’ll see how this goes yikes.

From this various prompts list

_

Anakin moved quickly up the hallway, trying to keep his footsteps as soft as possible.

It was very late — or very early, depending on one’s point of view. The low-lights were on, and Anakin felt like he was intruding somehow, in this residential wing that was almost entirely deserted due to the war.

The damned war.

Anakin clenched his fists. I can’t afford to be angry right now, he told himself. I need to talk to Obi-Wan and I can’t start out by yelling at him.

It was tempting to lash out at Obi-Wan.

They hadn’t had a proper conversation in months, not since the Hardeen operation and everything that it had entailed, and then Obi-Wan up and vanished on some discreet mission, stopping only to ask Anakin for a ship to borrow.

Anakin had discovered Obi-Wan’s return only when Acquisitions had notified him that his ship would be late in returning to his care due to extensive damage. Flight logs indicated that his Master had returned a full five days before. Five days without so much as a comm message letting his lineage know he was back home. Nothing.

For a few hours Anakin had foundered, stewing in disbelief and anger, but as night crept in he had begun to feel something different.

Concern.

And something that might have been the Force, prompting him, pushing him.

And so here he was, silently keying in the manual code to Obi-Wan’s quarters — technically still his own, although he spent most nights at Padmé’s or in a private room.

The door swished open.

It was utterly dark.

That wasn’t unusual; when he had the chance, Obi-Wan preferred to sleep in complete darkness. He said it felt more natural. No distractions tugging at his brain.

What was unusual was the state of disarray.

There was a kettle sitting on the counter, so near the edge it made Anakin nervous. He walked over and moved it a few inches, his eyebrows flying up when he felt the weight. When he lifted the lid, it was obvious that this was days-old, and untouched to boot.

Was Obi-Wan sick? Was he in the Halls? Surely someone would have notified him. Surely.

Anakin looked around and took note of the robe discarded against the wall, the boots left in the middle of the walkway. There was an empty mug on the reading table, and a holo-still sitting beside it, as if Obi-Wan had stared at it for awhile and then set it down — the only item that looked carefully treated.

On closer inspection, it was a holo of Obi-Wan, far younger than Anakin had ever seen him, next to Qui-Gon and a dark-skinned woman he had never seen before.

Qui-Gon was in the center, facing a little to the left, his eyes on the woman, a full smile on his face. Anakin stared. The Jedi he remembered had been understated, his smiles always a little sad. This Qui-Gon looked about to throw his head back in laughter. The woman was looking down at Obi-Wan, who stood on Qui-Gon’s other side. She was nearly as tall as Qui-Gon, her hair was braided into several intricate sections; she was smirking conspiratorially at the young Padawan.

And Obi-Wan was smiling shyly back. Although his Master wasn’t looking at him, he had draped one arm around Obi-Wan, and the boy was leaning into the casual touch.

They all looked ridiculously young and ridiculously happy, and Anakin didn’t even know who one of them was. He had never heard of this woman, or why she wasn’t around any more, because she must not be, and he had certainly never heard stories of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. Not unless it was relevant to whatever they had been doing, or whatever lesson Obi-Wan had been trying to teach.

His Master was so damned secretive.

Angry again, Anakin replaced the holo-still and glanced around the room, thinking to check the Halls of Healing next.

Then he spotted something that made him instinctively recoil.

A Mandalorian helmet, sitting on the chair, painted in stark black and red and rendered in Death Watch’s style.

Heart hammering, Anakin picked it up and examined it, finding gouges and dents in the beskar alloy, signs of years of wear and tear.

Why was it here? Why was there a Death Watch helmet here, in their rooms? It didn’t make any sense!

His first wild thought was that the extremist group had somehow broken in, taken Obi-Wan, and left this behind. Then he mentally shook himself. That was beyond absurd.

So what then?

Anakin tucked the helmet under his arm and cautiously approached his former Master’s room, pressing the door aside slowly.

Obi-Wan was right there.

Sitting on his bed, dressed only in stained and scorched trousers and an undershirt, his head in his hands. His fingers were buried so deeply in his hair it looked as if he were trying to tear his skull open.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin burst out without intending to, the last few hours of anger, confusion, and momentary panic getting the better of him.

Except the older man didn’t react at all.

“...Hey. Obi-Wan.”

After a pause, the man on the bed shifted slightly, and then sat up. His fingers hastily brushed his hair back into order as he did, and his face, though white as a sheet, was a perfectly blank mask.

Anakin didn’t buy a bit of it.

“Obi-Wan... tell me what’s going on.”

The man who was Obi-Wan but wasn’t acting at all like him gave a slight shrug. “There’s a lot going on, Anakin, we’re at war. What is it you needed at one in the morning?”

Well, at least he knows what time it is.

“You’ve been back for days. I haven’t seen you.”

“Ah. Your ship?”

“I’m not worried about the ship. I’m worried about you. I don’t even know where you were!” Anakin said, his voice rising again. He cut himself off quickly.

Obi-Wan frowned slightly. “I was... on leave.”

“On leave?” Obi-Wan didn’t go on leave. Obi-Wan never stopped working, hadn’t since Geonosis. “You said it was a mission.”

The older Jedi passed a hand over his mouth before speaking again. “I... it wasn’t an endorsed mission. I undertook it myself.”

A non-endorsed mission... “You mean you went off on your own?” Anakin demanded, shocked. “Tell me you weren’t chasing Maul!”

Obi-Wan went white to the lips. He opened his mouth to speak, and then he spotted the helmet under Anakin’s arm and choked on his words, falling dead silent.

Anakin considered for a moment. Then he studied the helmet again. Taking it in.

Death Watch.

Mandalore.

A personal, self-assigned mission.

Satine.

Red and black.

Maul.

“...Oh, Force, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said numbly. Thinking of Padmé. Thinking of Obi-Wan and the confession he’d made to Satine, one that Anakin had not been meant to overhear. “I’m so sorry.”

Obi-Wan said nothing.

He just stared at Anakin for a few moments before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Anakin set the helmet down on the desk and edged closer to the bed, his eyes on his friend, wary as if he were approaching a traumatized animal. “Can I sit?”

A nod.

Anakin sat down.

“...Is it all right if I hug you?”

A very long pause. A small nod.

Anakin placed his palm on Obi-Wan’s back, then slowly moved so his arm was around the man’s shoulders. When Obi-Wan didn’t pull away, Anakin drew closer, tilting his head down to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Like he had when he was younger, and his Master was the best in the Temple, in the whole galaxy, and there was no war, just missions and too much meditation and time enough to just sit like this when they were tired and overwrought.

Obi-Wan shuddered in his hold. Not repulsed, but something else. Like he was cold.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

His friend shook his head, but trembled harder, his breathing fluctuating.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Feel... nauseous,” the redhead mumbled, and then he doubled over, toppling head over heels towards the floor. Anakin cried out, lunged and caught him just in time, hauling his former Master into his arms and holding him, his heart pounding from the sudden shock.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept? Or eaten?” he demanded, thinking of the tea kettle.

“Mm... not since the night I got back. For eating. I don’t know about sleeping. I honestly... can’t remember...” Obi-Wan murmured. He was shivering now, his face pale and twisted with discomfort. He looked too weak to move, and he really must have been, because all he managed when Anakin cradled him closer and stood up with him in his arms was a low groan.

“We’re going to the Halls,” Anakin informed him curtly, striding out of the room with Obi-Wan in his arms, still trembling.

Obi-Wan made a noise of protest, but Anakin shook his head. “No. You need to see Healers.” He watched his friend’s eyes mist over vaguely, with grief or with illness it was hard to say. “I’ll stay with you the whole time,” Anakin vowed, meaning every word. “It’ll be fine. As soon as they’re ready to release you we’ll come right back here and you can sleep in your own bed.”

Obi-Wan mumbled something that seemed to include, ‘not a child.’

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not your Padawan anymore. We still boss each other around. Just how it is,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, tilting his head against Anakin’s shoulder. He took a deep breath. Then another. And then he was asleep.

“Damn,” Anakin whispered aloud. “Damn, damn, damn, you’re really not in good shape. You shouldn’t be this easy to carry, for one thing. Dammit, Obi-Wan. Why do you have to be so secretive?”

Is he secretive?

Or have I just never asked, and never listened?

Anakin honestly didn’t know, and that bothered him.

“Sleep, Master,” he murmured, adjusting his arms so that Obi-Wan was more comfortable. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. I promise. I’ve got you. We’re going to make it through this whole damn war, together.”

_

[ambrosiaaddiction]

Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Level 7 pain skill.

Dabi leaned his head to the side and purred as Hawks sucked on his neck. His eyes closing for a moment before he snapped them open as he felt himself grow slick. Gasping as he felt Hawks erection grind into his own, overwhelmed his hips jerked into Keigo's and then away again. He pushed against Hawks chest and gasped as Hawks gave him one last hickey before pulling back. His arms shook as he held Keigo away and shakily breathed. trying to ground himself as Keigo caught his breath. the rough bricks in the alley scraped against his back, his coat on the ground at his feet and his shirt rucked up. He shivered and growled, head spinning and confused. Dabi snatched his coat up and yanked his shirt down as he skittered back from Hawks.

 "Am I assuming correct that your place is out? we can always head to my apartment of you want to continue this indoors." he looks at Dabi with half lidded eyes and a smirk as he holds out a hand. Dabi stands there, breathing hard and try's to stay here. not remember any other alley's or brick walls he was left broken and bleeding against. He's still slick down between his legs and has a building warmth in him as he swallows hard. Taking the hand, he needs to get out of this alley before the warmth vanishes and he's left here to shiver and puke alone. This is fine, he's fine, Hawks is fine. Dabi's never done this, left a alley with someone like this. Been fucked in apartment in a soft bed by a Hero and a decent person. He'd just been suprised by how turned Hawks made him, how much he actually wanted the Alpha. Weather Hawks used him to get off in a open alley or a love hotel or his apartment didn't matter to Dabi. He supposed Hawks had to be careful about tabloids, which made a little more sense to him. Explains why he would accept Dabi as a option for a one night stand.

Keigo held him close and Dabi got to tuck his face into the soft fur of Hawks flight coat. He was struck with the thought of stealing it for his nest. he didn't need it, didn't have a nest and it wasn't worth risking his safety but it was nice thought. His scent gland itched under his patch and he nibbled at Keigo's to distract himself as his stomach flipped in nerves and motion sickness. He was actually going to do this, have sex with Hawks. No going back once they reached the apartment and Hawks was removing his clothes again. the trembling getting worse as he swallowed hard and he groaned into Hawks neck. Keigo chuckled at the groan and gripped Dabi tighter as they landed on his balcony. Dabi stumbled and leaned against the railing with his eyes closed as he forced himself to stop trembling and stand to face Keigo.

 Mouth still dry despite how often he was swallowing to keep himself from spilling bile and ruining his chances with Hawks tonight. His hand still trembled like a traitor when Hawks helped him out of his coat as they stepped inside.

 "Want something to drink or a snack Dabi? might help settle your stomach?" Hawks asked while going into his kitchen. Dabi snorted a little, Keigo didn't have to whine and dine him. Dabi had been ready to fuck there in that alley for the most part, Hell if Hawks had just kept going it would have been fine. He'd just, been lost for a moment down memory lane. He was fine to just fuck. Find out what it was like in a bed, like he knew it was for some omega's. He squirmed where he was standing and tugged his shirt off. leaving it there on the floor as he grabbed Hawks hand and pulled him in for another mind blowing kiss. kisses like this were nice. The ones inside of clubs were things were discreetly given to him before he ended up out in alley's didn't feel like this. they didn't light him up on the inside and relax him. have him curling into the Alpha as he nibbled at Dabi's broken skin and ran his hands so gently along ribs.

"I'm fine." He muttered and drew breathed in Keigo's relaxing scent. Bright lemon and spruce rolling from him as he stripped out of his own coat and Dabi fumbled with his belt. Hands trembling and watching Hawks abs flex as he tossed the shirt over a couch. It looked comfortable enough anyways if he was let spend the night here. he wondered what he might have smelled like to Keigo. Every love hotel with every person sliding him a scent patch and a few bills  until he'd realized that his scent, whatever it was tended to kill the mood for some Alpha's. Keigo helped Dabi step out of his pants silently and then nuzzled against him as he led him back to Hawks room. Dabi realized he was practically dripping and flushed in embarrassment. He struggled to remember the last time he'd been this ready for sex, this wanting as Keigo laid him on the bed and his hands found their way into Dabi's boxers. Maybe he wanted Dabi to beg before he just gave him what he was waiting for. He pulled Keigo's loose cargo pants down and whimpered as he saw the piercing on the head of his dick. his stomach wasn't even rebelling at him and Keigo filled his mind to the point where no other experiences or alpha's passed his mind. "we match on that one at least, although these? begging for my attention and to see how sensitive you are." Hawks grinned as he pulled back and tugged Dabi's boxers off fully, revealing Dabi's own pierced dick. Hawks threw the boxers on the floor and brushed his hands over Dabi's pierced hip dermals before tugging the hoops through his nipples lightly. Dabi's back arched and he croaked out a bitten off sound as his dick kicked, red and begging for attention. Right alongside his glistening entrance, Keigo stuck two of his fingers in him and curled them, making Dabi see stars as he struggled to keep his noises to himself. he didn't know what he'd sound like, Hawks was very quickly proving this was different than anything else he'd done. he'd rather not risk ruining the mood with some new weak sound he could feel in his throat. he covered his mouth and Keigo grinned devilishly at him. bending down and sticking his tongue in Dabi to taste his slick. Dabi's legs kicked out, overwhelmed, and Keigo chuckled at the reaction and the desperate confused tears building in Dabi's eyes. He grabbed Keigo's bicep and tugged upwards, sealing their mouths together and letting out a practiced breathy plea as he grabbed Keigo's dick. Lining him up and trying not to tense as he braced himself. it always hurt at first, always stung as he was rammed into and used. Keigo kissed his neck and nibbled at his jaw as Dabi closed his eyes. Keigo slid in, painless and lighting up nerves in pure pleasure. Dabi moaned under his hand as he arched into Hawks tears leaking through his eyes.

 "let me hear you Omega." Hawks asked softly and Dabi was flinging his hand away to hold on to Hawks instead. He squirmed under him, unsure what he was supposed to do and tilting his head back as his hips jerked. Keigo smiled into his skin as he eased himself out before rocking back in and Dabi keened as he gribbed him with white knuckles.

 "you can just let me do all the work if you want." Dabi shook his head and continued squirming beneath Hawks, breath stolen away by how good everything felt and how it continued building in a speeding crescendo. Overwhelming him as he tried to commit it to memory. He didn't want to ride Keigo, he wanted to stay just like this with Hawks heavier form above him. Blanketing him and making him feel warm. his hips moved upwards at some point when Hawks ground back down and into him and he shattered. seeing white as he tipped his head back and a hoarse shout escaped him. Hips continuing to move after he'd come and Keigo made a surprised noise at him. pausing for a moment until Dabi let out a strange pleading sound and pulled him in for a kiss. Hawks pulled back once and Dabi gasped at the empty feeling before Hawks was continuing again.

Dabi groaned and twisted his hips up. trying to imitate the motion that had felt so mind numblingly good. most alpha's preferred if he just laid there but Keigo didn't snap at him or growl or even so much as latch on to his scared neck. He just let Dabi wrap himself around him and wiped at the tears flowing out of his eyes. he kept rolling his hips up in that motion, Keigo sometimes helping him. He sealed his mouth over Hawks when he felt his knot swelling, starting to catch on his rim. it didn't hurt, he was too slicked up and turned on to feel anything but pleasantly full and the most content he had ever been. a long flat whine leaving him as Keigo's knot got stuck on his entrance and Keigo slowly grinded into him until the ring of muscle gave and he popped in. Dabi let his jaw drop as Keigo made short aborted thrusts and started playing with his nipple rings again. Hawks knot fully swelling and rendering him incapable of thrusting anymore with that small bead of his piercing right up against Dabi's prostate. It threw Dabi over the edge of his second orgasm and he clenched almost to the point of pain on Keigo's knot as he pumped cum into. Keigo flipping them over, easily lifting Dabi's weight as he tried to focus and failed with his limbs twitching in overstimulation.

 He shook threw the orgasm before he raised his head enough to look at Keigo, who had been holding his head in the crook of his neck and rubbing along his spine. Fingers dancing over each sharp vertebra and the scent calming him down. he drowsily nibbled along the bottom of Hawks jaw, kissing the hollow of his throat as his chest rumbled and Keigo's dick twitched inside of him. he whimpered before he could stop himself and Keigo turned his head to kiss him. petting his hair and giving him such slow lazy kisses that Dabi fell asleep right there. He'd never get this again, but for one night he'd gotten to actually enjoy sex. A hero of all people had seen him through it as well.

 This was fine, right?

 "Dabi?" Hawks asked softly. head tilted in confusion as Dabi rushed out and grabbed his coat off the balcony before continuing down the fire escape, he skipped the last few steps, wanting to get away from the apartment and the strange alpha who'd been different. not just said he could be, but actually was. He felt a glob of cum and slick leak out of him into his boxers as he ran and a sob ripped itself free from him. Dabi had to stop and lean against a building to let the sobs work themselves out until he could stop. Hawks hadn't hurt him, nothing had hurt and he'd wanted it. he'd cum twice and Keigo had held him as he purred himself to sleep on his knot. now he was running away and sobbing hard against a building as the sun rose. what was wrong with him? it was just sex. sex that didn't even make him feel sick to his stomach so why was he so upset over it? he slid down the wall and let his head rest against his knee's until he calmed down enough to call kuroguri for a pick up.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, slips off Keigo's dick. it made a wet noise as it had slipped out and just like that, the bubble popped. Dabi felt his pressure behind his eyes with tears he refused to spill. what had he been thinking last night, the usual shame and regret twisting his stomach. he felt sticky and his eyes were crusty with dried tears he brushed away. he scrambled off the bed and was slipping on his shirt as Keigo woke up, coming over to him right as he looked over his shoulder and met Hawks golden eyes with his own panicked ones.

"Dabi? what time is it? are you hurt? are you drunk, where are you? are you alright, i can hear someone crying. do you mind moving someplace quieter so i can hear you?" the mist man opened on the first ring and Dabi started sobbing all over again. what would he even say? 'hey i got fucked really really well and it felt nice so now i’m sobbing like there's anything that hasn't already been done to me and calling you at a god awful hour? please don't be mad?'

"I. im. I." Dabi couldn't get a grip. Despite Kuroguri's calm questioning as the sounds of getting dressed came through the phone. he sobbed again, let his chest heave with it and his head ache until he could finally take a break and speak. "I'm. I'm sorry to wake you." he muttered quietly with his eyes closed tight.  a begging crying whine escaped him before he could stop it when he realized Kuroguri hadn't hung up during his episode.

 "Dabi. we can take care of anything, i just need to know where you are. I can sleep when I'm dead." Kuroguri almost sounded panicked and Dabi didn't know how to react to that. apologizing again and again until a pair of beatup tennis shoes came into view and the smell of ciggerates and cloves mixed with ginger accompanying them. Twice crouched down and gently took the phone from Dabi's hands as he apologized and then turned away to dry heave. stomach rolling and clenching on nothing and flinching at nothing.

 "Hey, I've got him. He's pretty bad off to be honest. see you soon." Jin reached out and waited until Dabi stopped puking to touch his shoulder.

"It's alright Dabi, just me. Can i help you get back to base? take care of you there, that sound good?" Dabi nodded and managed to uncurl himself enough to attempt to wobbely stand, His legs gave out and Jin caught him. scooping his thin body up and every muscle freezing when he got a wiff of the scent covering him and the wet patch on Dabi's pants.

 "no. he. i. it didn't hurt. I. wanted, not. i'm just broken. "Dabi gripped jins sweater tightly and shook his head. Jin frowned but let himself relax a little as he cradled Dabi and walked a few blocks down to where a purple swirling warp gate was waiting for them.

{part1/5}

[cheri-translates]

What would you vote as the spiciest date for each boy?

Hi Anon~ I’ll respond with two dates per guy - one already released in EN, and one from CN.

🌶 Heavy spoilers under the cut because I included the spicy moments in detail, so don’t continue if you’re averse to that! 🌶

[Note: I compared the official English translations with the original Chinese versions and realised that the former is a little lacking... so I translated the spicy scenes so you can enjoy them as the writers intended ^o^ ]

-

🌹Victor🌹

[ EN: Dazzling Date ]

An urgent kiss clogs my unfinished words. His breath has never been closer to me than it is right now. 

His lips uncontrollably demand for more, and the fingertips clasping my hair grow tighter and tighter, like a net catching its prey. 

As though worried that I would drown in this sudden deep kiss, he leaves me a short time to breathe.

Victor: Since you’re clear-headed, remember everything about tonight.

While speaking, he hooks his index finger through his neat necktie, loosening it along with the buttons on the collar of his shirt. 

His refined muscles are unobstructed under the moonlight, and he immediately catches my distracted gaze. 

Victor: You're still in the mood to look at other things?

Looking at his chest muscles is obviously the same as looking at him. Looking at his face is also the same as looking at him. Why is he so...

Without leaving me room for sophistry, he places one hand against the side of the pool and continues the interrupted kiss.

His breath lingers in my mouth, as if wanting to take care of every inch of my sensitive skin. 

Unlike the first ravaging kiss, this kiss is like a chronic poison, making one sink deeper and deeper, unable to escape. 

He gently and domineeringly plunders the last trace of air in my chest, leaving me no choice but to reach out and grab his shoulders to get him to stop.

Yet, he just holds my waist and takes a breath, then continues that wild yet not unpleasant kiss. 

Only then do I understand the look in his eyes - a strong emotion called “possessiveness”. 

Bubbles are still gurgling in the pool, but they do not muffle the slight sound of water between our lips and teeth. Although the sound is very soft, it stimulates all of my nerves, and every cell is infected with Victor’s breath. 

🌶

The Great Victor losing control because of MC? Yes PLEASE.

The Great Victor loosening his tie? Yes PLEASE.

The Great Victor claiming his territory? Yes PLEASE.

-

[ CN: Sleepless Night Date (灯火夜无眠) ]

He leans closer, rubbing the tip of his nose with mine. Then, his warm thin lips trail slowly from my forehead downwards…

Victor’s breath encases my entire body. He plants scalding kisses on every inch of my skin, making me tremble as I hold onto his cuff.

MC: V-Vic-

He swallows the remaining syllable before I can finish.

This time, his soft lips seize mine, prying my teeth apart and diving right in.

He takes my breath away. In the midst of our breathing, what surrounds the tip of my nose is the unique taste belonging only to him…

After a long while, Victor finally ends his deep and searing kiss.

I clutch onto his arm, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath.

His lips once again brush my nose and cheek gently, like a dragonfly flitting across the surface of water. He looks into my eyes.

I see myself in his pupils, red-faced and misty-eyed.

🌶

I’m weak for the transition from heated kisses to light, fluttery ones

Papergames even turned the CG into a gif because a still picture is unable to contain the spice

-

🎐 Gavin 🎐

[ EN: Blind Date ]

Before I can scream, Gavin’s warm breath brushes my face. 

Followed by his soft, scalding lips sealing mine.

MC: ...oh...

The kiss is very powerful and rough, as if trying to draw all the oxygen from my lungs. 

I feel like I'm about to suffocate. My legs become soft, and I slide downwards with my back against the wall.

Gavin holds me by my waist with one hand while pressing the back of my head with the other, deepening the kiss...

Just when I think I’m about to die, he moves his lips away slightly, his deep eyes gazing at me.

MC: ...Gavin...

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: [pushing Gavin shyly] ...this is a public place.

Gavin hugs me even more tightly, resting his chin on my shoulder...

MC: Gavin... let me go...

A warm breath caresses my ear. It’s a numbing feeling, as though thousands of ants are crawling into the bottom of my heart...

🌶

The tension built up over the course of the entire date was 💯

Gavin can just stand in the middle of nowhere and I’d still find it spicy

-

[ CN: Late Autumn Date (秋深��约) ]

I look towards Gavin, lightly tugging at the corner of his shirt. At the same time, I gently bite his lip, wordlessly expressing the feelings in my heart at this very moment.

As though punishing me for my mischief, his eyes narrow slightly. With a hand on my cheek, he presses my entire body onto the piano.

MC: …

I close my eyes, holding onto his solid arms. I lift my head to welcome his lips, savouring his unique breath.

The person in front of me has shed off the roughness of youth, leaving behind only the purity of youth. He often makes me forget that he once used to be unrestrained like the wind.

He has a body that is stronger than everyone else’s, a tough soul, a will that is as firm as steel, and a heart full of tenderness – it is soft beyond compare.

I cling to his waist tightly using my calves, wanting to brand every part of him into my heart.

🌶

Poetic spice. Yes.

-

🌻 Kiro 🌻

[ EN: Stardust Date ]

His hair, slightly drenched in sweat, brushes the tip of my nose. What follows is a sudden kiss.

The soft and blazing tip of his tongue launches a slightly rough attack, making me press my hands against his chest. Yet, I am unwilling to push him away. 

Just a few steps away from the stage, fans are still shouting for an encore, but I can no longer hear their restless cries.

All that descends into my ears is the rush of breaths.

Our disorderly breaths entwine, and we inhale and exhale over and over again, bringing along with it a brief sense of hypoxia. 

I feel dizzy and am unable to think of much anymore. My mouth is agape, like a stranded fish craving for more oxygen.

He takes the opportunity to fill in this gap. Starting with a restrained light peck, he observes my reaction bit by bit before gradually deepening the kiss.

Every cell in my body seems to be tinged with his scent. I can’t help but pull myself closer to him, wanting more, demanding more.

He responds passionately, a light crimson under his quivering eyelashes. Drenched with sweat, he looks handsome and cute.

-

🌶

I’d say this is the second spiciest date that has been released in EN so far (with Victor’s Dazzling date as the reigning champion). Good job Kiro.

MC demanding for more? Yes PLEASE.

-

[ CN: Variety Show Date（综艺之约) ]

The fingers on my back follow the trail of water and snake downwards. Blazing heat follows his movements, gradual yet eager, as they flow over every inch of my skin.

His breath lays siege, filling every crevice in my body, wet and lingering.

Even so, Kiro is not yet satisfied. His arms hold me even tighter, and he uses his fingertips and lips to hold me prisoner in this secret corner, and I am unable to withdraw.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you belong to me. So, I won’t let you escape this time.

His searing breath takes over mine. I am unable to tell if it’s water droplets or sweat that slowly trickles down our tightly-pressed skin.

In our misty vision, dots of starlight pass through the trees, and are scattered across the surface of the water. Suppressed gasps diffuse near our ears, and are amplified by our senses.  

The water sways continuously like a tide, gently wrapping two hearts that are about to merge into one.

And the breaths of the sea breeze render the night even more blurry.

-

🌶

I’m just going to assume they did the deed in the lake which is highly impractical but somehow v e r y sexy.

-

🦋 Lucien 🦋

[ EN: I haven’t read his EN dates... ]

[ CN: Warm Morning Date (暖晨之约) ]

The hand that had lightly lit a cluster of flames on my skin earlier finally lands on the back of my head with certainty, causing me to lift my head slightly.

This time, I cooperate and close my eyes.

An undisguised possessiveness spreads to the adjacent skin. In the midst of our entangled breaths, every suck and tender bite are his branded markings.

Soothed by each other’s temperatures, our hearts beat at the same frequency.

🌶

Not as spicy as the dates from the other guys, but I never pegged Lucien as one who leaves love bites so it was a pleasant surprise :>

-

Unfortunately Shaw doesn’t have any spicy dates... yet :’)

[rvmmm21]

. i think he likes you back .

summary : joohyun is tired of hearing seungwan go on and on about this wonderful, attractive senior she’s head over heels for. joohyun wants a name, and she knows exactly how to get it out of her, no matter how much Seungwan wants to keep it a secret.

requested : yes, by rvmmm21 to rvmmm21.

note : oh wow, is this my wenrene niche? do i have a soft spot for nervous, spluttering wendy and (big)tease, soft dom irene? oh, i don’t know... but this was ?fun-ish? smut practice nonetheless. i still cringed though, working hard on my plotless smut. i’ll proofread it like later or smth i’m gonna sleep now.

[(soft)dom!irene x wendy]

...

“… and I like him.”

“A name, Wan-ah, I need a name… come on…” Joohyun insists, dropping her pen and herself onto the bed next to the younger girl, incomplete pie charts and bar graphs surrounding them both.

I mean, yes, she could very easily bite the bullet and tell Seungwan that she, too, wishes to see them as more than just friends, that she’s been waiting for the chance to… deepen their bond. Or that she already knows that this infamous heartthrob senior Seungwan has an undying crush on is, in fact, her.

But really, what’s the fun in that?

They’d talked about crushes before. Far too much, in all honesty. Ask all the missed deadlines and turning up to class halfway through it. Oh, and Joohyun’s now a pro at flattening knowing grins and keeping her eyes from rolling skywards from all the times she’s had to do it when Seungwan was in one of her particularly ‘gushy’ moods. The senior she’s wholeheartedly in love with.

Senior as in a boy senior, of course, and definitely not Bae Joohyun.

“Oh unnie, he’s so good-looking… but – but you’ll never guess who it is.”

“His legs… his hair… he’s so pretty and… I don’t know, I think about what it would be like to… to kiss him and – and ugh, just kinda everything, you know?”

“… but – but seriously, you’ll never guess… I mean… so don’t even try.”

Joohyun could write a novel, at this point, with how much information she’s gathered on this mysterious senior no one else but Seungwan seems to know about. It’s the fine print, really. The little details like how smooth his fingers are when he tucks a spidery velvet lock of hair behind his ear, how she can just tell he’ll make a great partner because of how he well he listens; things that are far too in-depth and descriptive for someone who’s supposedly admiring from afar, for someone’s who’s never actually spoken to him.

Oh, and don’t even get her started on the number of times this ‘boy’ has been referred to as ‘she’.

“So?” Joohyun blatantly peers, head cocked and eyebrow quirked, “I’m sick of hearing about it. Are you going to tell me or what?”

“… I-I can’t, unnie, it… it’s a secret…”

There we go, that A-class excuse – ‘It’s a secret’.

Oh no you don’t, Joohyun thinks, not this time. She’s not letting Seungwan slither out of this one like she’s very poorly managed to slither out all those other times.

She casts the younger girl (who seems hell-bent on keeping her mouth shut) a look of determination, and receives one right back, doubled in intensity, if not a little fragile round the edges.

Fine, be like that, Joohyun thinks. She’ll pry that name from those lips… oh yes, she will… even if it has to come after a plethora of… other noises.

Joohyun sneers, edging closer to the girl who’s a few seconds away from releasing white puffs of steam from her ears. “Honestly, I kinda like how you try so hard. Unless you’re just playing dumb… Wan-ah, you don’t think I’m stupid, do you? This lover-boy of yours clearly doesn’t exist.”

Well… not like that. ‘He’ may not… but ‘she’, on the other hand, very much does.

Seungwan feels those very familiar cherry-blossom petals sear into her cheeks at how close Joohyun is. Suddenly, everything is amplified. Suddenly, she’s hyper aware of how she’s twitching, holding back from just leaning forward and connecting them both… or how she’s now caged in by her definitely-not crush, back against the headboard with absolutely nowhere to go.

She has to let out a nervous chuckle, if only to distract from her raging blush. “… unnie, I… he does exist… he’s –”

She’s cut off. Seungwan’s eyes bulge out before fluttering closed when she feels a pair of velvety lips against her own. There’s a lively tinge of strawberry-burst lip balm exchanged from Joohyun’s mouth to hers, and her lips are already tingling by the time the older girl pulls away.

“… w-wha – what was… that?” she finally manages, going stiff when she sees that sinful smile on her unnie’s otherwise innocent face.

“Now you know,” Joohyun replies, licking her lips, savouring the taste of inexperience and cherry liquorice – with a slight aftertaste of denial, of course. Although that’s nothing she can’t fix.

Seungwan couldn’t look more confused… or guilty.

“… know –” she gulps, not knowing how she could say anything that wouldn’t immediately give her away, “– know what?”

“What it’s like to kiss him.”

Seungwan’s eyes go wide again. Her brain short-circuits, and she jolts forward. “Unnie!”

But Joohyun splays a hand against her chest, gently easing her back onto the pillows. Seungwan knows the she intended the gesture to soothe her nerves, but it only succeeds in firing her up twice as much. Still, she’s mute, unwilling to believe this is actually happening.

“I bet you want to know everything about him, don’t you –”

Oh? Joohyun’s hands are inching their way under her skirt. Oh? What’s she doing?

“– I bet you want to know what he can do… to you. Hm?”

Seungwan whimpers down at the pretty fingers now caressing her against the damp fabric of her panties, stroking her slit with practiced precision. Oh no. No, no, no… this is so bad. She can’t possibly feel how wet she is, can she? That dewy heat had been radiating at her core the entire time, but she really didn’t think she’d have it revealed to the one person she was trying her best to hide it from.

Joohyun simply smirks up at her, poised as ever. “You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?”

When Seungwan stays silent, Joohyun pushes herself up and leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek. And then her other one, and one on the corner of her lips, her forehead, her nose and her right ear. Her fingers never move from between her legs.

“Aren’t you?” she repeats, breath tickling the shell of her ear.

Of course I am, Seungwan confesses to herself.

It’s like an out-of-body experience, when Joohyun grasps her by the arms and scooches them towards the edge of the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and propping it up behind her. Ah yes, there’s that fine print in action again, in a very live setting, this time. She knows this can’t end well for her, but there’s something about Bae Joohyun, the girl she’s had very... descriptive dreams about, on her knees before her. It grants her the near perfect illusion of being in control. 

But then that naughty shimmer in those flawless eyes reminds her she really, really isn’t.

The older girl smoothly hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties, pushing her bottom up and giving them a swift tug down past her hips. Despite the scorching humiliation, Seungwan complies, shifting up so Joohyun’s job is easier. Her fingertips leave trails of warmth down her skin and she can only watch as her underwear is chucked gracelessly over her shoulder.

“You want to know what he’s like in bed...”

Even almost fully clothed, Seungwan feels more naked than she’s ever felt before. She inhales sharply when she feels a brief pressure on her clit, instinctively trying to draw her knees together, but with Joohyun in between them, it’s impossible to. So she resorts to laying back, resting her weight on her elbows, helpless to whatever Joohyun has in store for her.

“You want to know how well he can take you.”

A finger dips into the wetness it finds and the younger girl gasps, feeling herself leak even more when it draws lazy little circles around her clit. Not on it, just around it. If she didn’t know any better, Seungwan would think she’s doing this on purpose, deliberately not touching her where she wants – needs. It’s unfortunate that Joohyun’s maddening teasing rendered her unable to speak, because she really needs to ask for more.

“… p-please… touch… touch harder…” she tries, not caring at how pathetic that sounds.

Joohyun smiles.

“Touch harder where?”

The embarrassed squeak she receives in reply gives her a pretty good idea, though.

“Harder… here?” She asks, sliding her fingers back into her core. Seungwan whimpers. “Or… here?”

A thumb on her sensitive clit rubs slow, firm circles, and it’s the direct contact Seungwan’s been longing for since they began. She’s being filled and fucked so well, it doesn’t take long before it’s unravelling that knot in her gut and she can’t help voicing her relief, all her muscles tensing at the sheer pleasure. “… oh, oh – oh my gosh, unnie…”

“Feel good, Wannie?”

‘Good’ doesn’t do it justice, especially not after she’s been teased out of her mind like that. Her hips are rocking against the fingers pumping in and out of her, trying to get them to go even harder, faster.

“I’m going to make you cum, Wannie,” she hums, “unnie’s going to make you cum on her fingers, okay?”

She sure as hell is. It’s already bubbling to the surface. Joohyun’s about to make her spill over, tip her over that edge, have her falling apart with her two fingers hitting her g-spot perfectly, with her thumb against her clit, that wonderful ache clouding her sensibilities so she can’t think straight. “… I’m… oh, unnie, I’m gonna – I’m…”

“Uh, uh, uh.” Joohyun stops completely. She’s still knuckle-deep, but any movement, any friction is ceased. Seungwan’s would-be orgasm plateaus then plummets just as quickly.

And she barely stops herself from ripping her hair out. “Uh-unnie!”

“Tell me who you really like.” Joohyun resumes her unbearable teasing like she did at the start, brushing over her clit, never giving her anything concrete to hold on to for longer than a second.

Seungwan groans, dazed and obviously reluctant. “… huh?”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Joohyun pries, holding the younger girl’s hips still when they try to grind onto her hand. “He isn’t real. It’s me. You like me. Say it, tell me.”

“… wh-what… no, please it’s n –”

She chokes back the rest of her sentence when Joohyun continues to pump into her at an agonizingly slow pace, keeping her orgasm painfully tethered. “You want to cum… you need to, don’t you? You need it? I want to hear you say it, so say it. Say it and I’ll make you cum. I’ll give you what you need.”

Seungwan wants to slap herself. She’s walked right into this. She’s just played herself – but Joohyun’s right, she needs to cum, she needs it so badly – oh god, her thoughts are everywhere. Joohyun tone is as sweet and as kind as she is, but her actions are utterly cruel, and Seungwan hates it that she wants everything she’s dishing out. It takes little more than a peer down at that searching gaze, inescapable, blinking innocently up at her like she isn’t driving her absolutely crazy with pleasure before she caves in. She’s broken and they both know it, all red in the face and choking out a weak – “… I-I like… I like you, unnie… you, it’s you, it’s you. I like you!”

To which Joohyun chuckles, playfully.

And then her fingers are moving again, plunging into her. Oh gosh. Oh my gosh, it feels good. Too good, it’s insane. Seungwan can feel herself clenching down intermittently on the fingers thrusting, curling against where she’s most sensitive. The pressure on her clit is nothing short of delicious, and she can finally hold onto the feeling for more than a second, but she craves it so badly that it only takes a second before it – it’s – it’s coming –

With a hoarse whisper of Joohyun’s name, she tenses up and goes limp all at once, slumping forward and clinging onto Joohyun for dear life, tiny shocks of electricity racing through her system as she twitches and convulses in her unnie’s arms.

Joohyun shifts off the floor and settles down next to her trembling Wannie, taking the opportunity to hum sweetly in her ear. “There, there now… see? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Was it really worth keeping it secret for that long?”

It feels like a millennium before Seungwan finds the strength to sit up and the ability to swallow. She flops lifelessly onto her side, letting those warm arms engulf her before looking Joohyun in the eye.

“I don’t know,” she half sighs, half pouts. “Wasn’t like I had much of a choice.”

Joohyun huffs fondly, leaning in to press a light kiss to a sweat-matted fringe. She lingers, and Seungwan can feel her growing smile. “Don’t worry, Wan-ah. He definitely likes you back.”

[quentinxdelancret]

PUSHING THE LIMITS || Quoman

Discord thread featuring: Quentin and Roman @romanbeckett

When: May 5th 2021

Mentions: @aaronhart93

Description: Quentin goes all edgy dom with Roman and they end up pushing the limits.

TW: SMUT!!! Edging, light BDSM, and other hardcore things.

Quentin. After Quentin’s surgery, the boys had been taking things pretty easy. Sure they would still get rough with each other, but not to the level either one of them really enjoyed. That was what made tonight so perfect. They were both drunk and feeling no pain. It made Quentin want to do things he hadn’t done in what felt like way too long. He sent one last text to his boyfriend and then made his way into their closet full of sex toys. Grabbing the rope and two pairs of handcuffs for good measure. He was stumbling around just a bit, but he made it to Roman’s room with impeccable timing. Finding his boyfriend laying on his bed in  his favorite purple lingerie. “Fuck baby, you look so sexy” he complimented as he shut the door behind him and locked it. Aaron was in the master bedroom asleep and Des was down the hall. So he couldn’t risk waking them or having either of them walking in. Although, Aaron walking in would have only heightened the mood.   “Give me your phone” he said with a firm command. Taking the iPhone from his lover and snapping a couple of photos of him before setting the phone on record and setting it up on the dresser. “Come’re” he then said with a softer yet still firm command. Placing one end of each pair of cuffs around his boyfriends wrists. “This is just in case it’s too much” Q informed. Letting the empty end of the cuffs dangle as he pulled Roman to sit on the edge of the bed. “Take this off” he gestured to the lingerie. Pulling off his own joggers as he watched the taller undress.Fuck, he really was so damn beautiful. Q was already getting a semi just from watching the way he moved as he took of the ensemble. Once they were both naked, Q placed the other ends of the cuffs to his own wrists. “You can struggle if you want to baby. But if you really want me to stop, you have to blink your eyes three times. Got it?” This was an about to be an experience for them both, and the more Q thought about it the harder he became. “Lay back.. I wanna get you nice and hard baby” he instructed as he knelt down onto the floor between romans legs. Both his hands wrapping around his lovers cock as he began to stroke him aggressively.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. Quentin was one person who understood Roman’s kinks more than almost anyway. He was already hard as a rock from all the pregaming festivities, so he didn’t waist any time helping Q get his cuffs on, and then wiggled out of his lingerie as best he could before scooting back naked, and spread eagle on the bed for his boyfriend. “You look so sexy daddy...what’re you gonna do do me?” The Brit asked with huge tongue between his teeth.

Quentin. The look on Roman’s face had him grinning like a fucking idiot. But he tried so hard to stay in character. “I’m gonna make you cum like you’ve never came before” he replied. Continuing to stroke his lover with both hands, twisting his wrists and letting his palm brush over his tip. “Mmm you’re so hard for me already baby” he smiled deviously. Moving one of his hands and pulling Roman’s along with it as he pinched and teased at his nipples. “You like that, baby?” he asked. Hovering his mouth over his lovers cock and letting his spit drip over him as a form of lube. “Shiiit.. you’re so fucking big” he exasperated. Stroking his cock more vigorously as he reached for the rope with his other hand.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. “Mmmm baby...” the actor gasped, Ruby red lips parted as his hips began to grind a little to the rhythm was hi boyfriend’s strokes. He was so hard, and throbbing, and most definitely leaking pre cum all over his boyfriend’s hand. “God that feels so good...it’s all yours baby....” Roman’s breath caught in his throat when Q began to speed up the pumps while reading for a rope. That of course made roman bite his bottom lip in curiosity.

Quentin. There was nothing sexier in the world than the way Roman looked when he fully submitted. Quentin could honestly stare at him like this all fucking day. But right now, he had a job to do, and that was to make his boyfriend feel as good as humanly possible without actually letting him cum. “Yeah...? You’re my little cock slut aren’t you baby?” he asked with a half smirk. His own lust and arousal setting in as he wrapped the rope around Roman’s neck. He removed his hand from around his lovers cock and watched it twitch for more attention for a moment before leaning down to kitten lick at the underside of his tip. “Mmm so delicious” he hummed. Grabbing and end of the rope in each of his hands before scooting up to kneel over his lover. His knees pressing firm  into the mattress on each side of his boyfriends chest as he used to rope to pull him closer.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. of course Roman let Quentin pull the rope around his neck, preparing for the moment his boyfriend was going to use it to restrict his breaking. His green eyes were focused up on his lover, squirming at the way he chose to kitten lick at his massive throbbing cock. At the first sensation of the rope becoming snug around the actor’s throat, he lifted his chin up so that Q could see, and then suddenly let out a low sexy moan for his partner. “Gonna shut me up, daddy?” He asked as innocently as possible.

Quentin. Watching Roman squirm for him was such a huge turn on. He loved  watching him struggle or beg for more. His body language was so fuckin exquisite. “Oh yeah.. I’m gonna make you shut up alright baby boy” he nodded. Reaching to the night stand and pulling Roman’s arm along with his own as he grabbed the vibrating butt plug from the drawer. “You gonna be a good boy, baby?” he asked once he was positioned back into place. Turning on the vibrator and handing it to his boyfriend to insert into himself. Q licked his lips as he waited for Roman to get situated and then leaned back to let Roman’s cock rub between his bare cheeks. “Does that feel good baby? Do you want more?” he barely gave his boyfriend a chance to respond before he was pulling the rope tighter around his neck.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Quentin knew absolutely everything that Roman loved. He knew how to push him to his limits, making his back arch beautifully of the bed, languid, and compliant to everything his boyfriend had to say. The vibrator was starting to make him squirm a little, distracted by that for a moment while his lover pulled in the rope and began to restrict the actor’s windpipe and vocal chords. Fuck. Roman loved that feeling so much, immediately pushing into a vulnerable position that had him wining a bit against the pressure as he tilted his head back or Quentin to get a good view of of everything.

Quentin. Quentin was most definitely a switch, and he knew exactly how to use his assets to his advantage. Getting Roman to react to everything he did exactly how he wanted him to and reveling in the vision. He continued to rub against his lovers cock slowly as his lips parted and he let out a soft pleasurable gasp. “God, you’re so sexy baby” his voice trembled lightly. His hips lifting at just the perfect angle to come back down on his boyfriends length. Taking him completely into his heat before lifting to just the tip and squeezing tightly around him. “Mmm fuck...” he hissed through his tight jaw. Rocking back and forth a few times before taking him completely again and tightening the rope a bit tighter. God, he was so fucking hard, he could barely stand the teasing himself. But the way Roman’s body reacted to his movements fueled the Dom inside of him to go a bit harder. Grinding against his lover as he moved his hand to slap his boyfriends face before gripping firmly at his hair. “Let me know if you get close baby, I don’t want you cumming just yet.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman never thought of himself as unattractive since being an adult, but he’d witnessed so many absolutely flawless looking people in his world travels, Quentin being one of them, that it was just extremely difficult not to compare. His eyes were stuck on the lines of his boyfriend’s body — his abs, the sharpness of his cheekbones in comparison with his clavicle. His eyes were a deep blue, even in the dark, and it it weren’t for the rope tightening around his neck, he might have been gasping for those reasons alone. Roman’s cock flexed as soon as he felt Q’s hand smack him across the face, his chest now violently rising up and down from the shot of adrenaline now rolling through his body. When Q’s warning registered, Ro managed to nod his head and tighten his leg around his lover in a silent promise to warn him of any impending orgasm.

Quentin. Those deep green eyes his boyfriend had as he gazed at him, could literally slay him. It was like looking deep into his lovers soul as their bodies moved so beautifully together. Q tightened his grip on his boyfriends hair as he held Roman’s arms in place with his own. The cuffs pulling tight against both of their arms as he continued to rock his body against Roman’s flexing girth. Slowly at first but then grinding more vigorously as the actor tightened his legs around him. “Ughh.. uughh, fuck” he moaned with a slight whimper. Bouncing up and down hard and aggressive for a moment before slowing to and almost stop around his lovers tip. His entire body was tingling with pleasure but he wanted to take his time. Really draw this out for the man he loved more than anything in the world. “Shiiit, baby. You feel so good” he panted. Pulling off of his lover now and repositioning himself on his knees over Roman’s chest. He was sure that vibrator was doing wonders now with the absence of his tight heat around his boyfriends cock. But he pulled at the rope again to distract him, rendering his boyfriend breathless as he rubbed his own cock against his lips.!

𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 The buzzing cock ring around his length was making Roma kick his feet against the mattress, digging in his heels as he wined about the absence of his boyfriend’s ass. It was probably a good thing Quentin moved though, because Ro was very much on the limit, and about to go over the edge with just the right touch. Roman so badly wanted to move his hands, to get them anywhere and everywhere he could touch on the other male, but no matter how much he struggled, the handcuffs were too tight. “Baby...” the actor practically whispered as the rope around his neck tightened, his heart now thudding in his chest hard enough to hear it in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, but was then quickly distracted by the huge cock in his face.  Fuck. Roman made eye contact with his boyfriend as his lips touched Quentin’s leaking head, his tongue then slipping out soon after to catch the pre cum.

Quentin. It was clear all over the musicians face that he was experiencing a pleasure like none other before. His mouth gaping open for a moment as Roman’s tongue licked at his leaking cock. “It’s all yours baby” he barely got out through hard snarky breaths. His eyes borrowing into his lovers as he pulled his bottom lip aggressively between his teeth. He couldn’t wait to get his cock balls deep down his lovers throat. Pushing his hips forward a few times against his boyfriends tongue before finally slipping between his lips. “Oh.. my.. god” he gasped. His head falling back as his let Roman swallow his length in it’s entirety. The tightness of his throat with the rope around it really pushing him to a place he hadn’t been to since before his surgery. “Yesss.. fuck, Roman. You like that don’t you, my naughty fuckin cock slut.” He began thrusting slowly into his boyfriends mouth, pulling the rope tighter and then letting it loose over and over.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Anyone who had ever been with Roman knew that he was indeed, a cock slut. Giving head, being fucked, hand jobs, the lot — he truly was a giver, and fuck if he didn’t love giving to Quentin. He had the most amazing cock he’d ever seen, and was every bit worth the challenge of taking every inch right now. Ro had a few times where he gagged, even moments of dizziness, like he was gonna pass out at any second, but he managed to keep it together as he arched his back, and swallowed around the head of his boyfriend’s cock with a deep moan.

Quentin. Roman definitely was a giver. He had done things with Q that honestly, he had never done with an actually lover before. These were things he usually saved for those he was intended to please. But with Roman, he felt like he could slip right into his dirtiest kinks, and Roman would be right there with him loving every minute of it. To most anyone else, they would probably think they were insane. But this was a connection they had that didn’t need any explanation. The understood one another, trust one another, fuck they would literally get off on torturing one another. It didn’t matter how it looked to anyone else. For Quentin, it was the best sex he had ever experienced in his life. His cock was so fuckin hard and flexing within his lovers throat with each and every gag he muffled out. “Ughh... shiiit” he hiss as he deridingly pushed  as far as he could into Roman’s throat. Pulling the rope as tight as he could without killing his boyfriend and letting his cock twitch deep against the restriction. “O- fuuuu-” his voice trembled and broke as his mouth gaped open again. He was so close to blowing his load, but he was trying his hardest to hold it back. His entire body trembling as Roman’s began jerking in defense.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman was squirming now with his hands behind his back, the muscles of his throat flexing against the cock lodged inside it. He was choking, and couldn’t stop the tears from pricking to his eyes out of sheer reflex. God, he’d never been so turned on though in his life. He felt helpless, and even if he wanted to use their safe word, it’s not like he could even get it out right now. Ro was starting to slip, he could feel his body weakening to the point it was getting hard to keep his eyes open. Fuck! He couldn’t stop himself anymore, nor could he give his boyfriend a warning before Ro just began to buck his hips, and covered them both in cum.

Quentin. Even with the intense pleasure shooting throughout his entire body. He never took his eyes off of Roman’s. The tears welling up in his eyes from the reflex almost making him feel remorseful, but not enough to actually pull back. He was so glad he didn’t too, because the Roman was hurling over the edge. Exactly how he wanted him. The feeling of his hot sticky cum coating his lower back literally pushing him right over the edge with him. “Fuuuuck... baby” he growled with a surrendering whimper. Pulling the rope unintentionally tighter as his hips bucked, pumping his hit release deep into the back of Roman’s throat.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ It had been a long time since anyone had pushed him this far in bed. It took a certain lack of remorse in the heat of the moment to be able to push past morality for self pleasure. ( though it was definitely mutual here). The rope around Roman’s throat at this point was so tight, he had absolutely no way of swallowing the load just shot into his mouth. He choked, and struggled a little under the other male, hands twisting in the handcuffs before his eyes were rolling back from the lack of oxygen.

Quentin. Roman was such a fuckin champ. Letting Q do things to him that you definitely needed a certain level of trust for. He was gurgling on Quentin’s cum as his eyes rolled back, but he just kept pumping his hips relentlessly waiting for the exact right moment to let him go. “That’s right baby, let it go” he insisted with a low growl. Knowing that vibrator was probably a new torture all it’s own against his boyfriends now sensitive member. “Do it..” he challenged a bit firmer this time. Almost feeling bad at this point that his boyfriend hadn’t passed out yet. But he saw when it was nearing and pulled back instantly. Letting his cock pop from his lovers mouth as he faded out.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman had basically been convulsing when his boyfriend challenged him, jerking from the cock ring squeezing around his sensitive cock, paired with his intense lack of oxygen. He ended up cumming again despite the toy around his length, which was now pretty fucking painful - thank god he liked pain. Ro didn’t even have a chance to swallow the cum in his mouth before Q finally pulled away, the actor’s head turning and causing cum to leak from his lips, and onto the sheets below. He was out cold, but the rush he received the second he woke up again was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It felt like he was seeing stars as he coughed, and pulled air into his lungs as fast as he could manage to. “Fuck.” Was all he could manage to rasp, but that pretty much said it all.

Quentin. When Roman woke up, Q had the cock ring off of him. He was laying on top of him stroking his cheek and using his thumb to wipe away his own cum that leaked from his lips. “Fuck is right” he chuckled breathlessly. “You good baby?” he asked as he moved his free hand to rub at his boyfriends chest. “Jus breathe, baby” he said softly. “love you.  I love you so fucking much.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman’s eyes darted all over his boyfriend as he tried to comfort him. His head felt swimmy, clearly living through the after effects of asphyxiation, but he couldn’t even pretend he didn’t love it. “That was amazing.” He smirked at his partner, loving that despite how messed up they technically were, there was still a sense of closeness that came from trusting someone with your life like that. Maybe he was a little addicted. “Was it hard for you to stop, daddy?” Roman rasped, deep green eyes locked on the other’s before he leaned in to nip at Quentin’s chin.

Quentin. Although he was clearly still a bit dazed, Roman literally never looked more beautiful than he did right now. Q couldn’t keep himself from staring at him. Even though that was partly due to the fact that he wanted to make sure he was really okay. He nodded his head with an exquisitely satisfied grin at Roman’s comment and then rolled his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth. “It’s always hard to stop pleasing you, baby. But I love you too much to actually kill you” he teased. A soft grunt falling from his lips as his boyfriend nipped at his chin. “Mmm, you better be careful. You might get me going again” he chuckled.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman managed to giggle when Quentin said he loved him too much to actually kill him, which made the actor practically roll into the other’s lap like a giant dog. “I love you.” He leaned in to whisper the words against his boyfriend’s ear before placing a soft kiss there, and then down the side of his neck with a soft sigh. Q smelled like soap, aftershave, and his shampoo. It was all mixed with an essence of just Quentin, Roman’s favorite scent in the whole world. “I can’t believe you made me cum twice, and with a cock ring on. How the fuck did you manage that??” Ro laughed, and settled with his thighs on either side of Quentin’s lap as he settled in with his arms around the other’s neck.

Quentin. God, he loved snuggling and getting all cuddly after going that hard. It gave him a sense of purpose that he couldn’t ever seem to put into words. “I love you too” he hummed as he closed his eyes and smiled. Stroking his fingers lovingly through his boyfriends hair. “It’s my super power” he mused. His voice becoming heavy with content as he turned his head to kiss Roman softly on his forehead. His other hand lazily tracing patterns on his lovers arm that was draped across his neck. “We should do this every night” he added, this time his voice lore of a whisper. Fuck, he was tired. Maybe he would actually be able to fall asleep for once, and he wouldn’t be surprised either.  Roman always seemed to be the cure to all his ailments.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ “Would it be safe to choke the hell out of me every night? I mean I’m not complaining, but that has to cause some sort of damage after awhile, right?” Ro teased before repositioning himself beside Q before pulling him close so that he could rub his hand all over the younger’s back. He placed a few kisses to the musicians’s temple, and then reached to pull the covers up over them. “Fuck. I should probably wash the sheets, huh?” Unless they both wanted to sleep in each other’s cum.

Quentin. Q furrowed his brow for a moment as he contemplated the question and then chuckled softly. “Ughh, probably not. But we’d make it work” he grinned. Letting Roman pull him in even closer before letting out a sigh. “Damn.. yeah, we probably should” he agreed. “How about we go sleep in my bed and I’ll take care of this for you tomorrow? We can even light a joint since it’s the furthest from Desi’s room.” Moving seemed like such a task right now. But at least that would be less work then remaking an entire bed.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman smirked when his boyfriend made the suggestion of sleeping in another bedroom tonight, something he didn’t have it in him to fight, especially with the promise of a smoke. “You always have the best damn ideas, Q-tip!!” The actor leaned in to pop a kiss on Quentin’s forehead, and then made the move to roll out of bed and onto his feet. “Should I at least put on some underwear?” Ro asked while backing towards his closet with a raised brow. “Maybe I nice little pair of panties?”

Quentin. Quentin smiled proudly at his boyfriends compliment and nodded his head. “I try” he chuckled softly. “I’m mostly just lazy, and still baskin in the afterglow. But yes, you most definitely should wear a nice little pair of panties. I wanna take them off you with my teeth” he grinned.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ “Such a naughty boy.” Roman smirked over his shoulder, staring down his boyfriend like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, because to be honest, he was. How could someone look THAT amazing, even after rough sex? “Alright, go meet me in your bedroom. I’m gonna throw the sheets in the wash at least and get a little more comfortable for you. How’s that?” The actor gave Q a wink and then shook his tight little ass.

Quentin. He couldn’t help but to smirk at his boyfriend. He told him he’d take care of the mess the next day, but Roman couldn’t just let it sit there. That’s just who he was and Q absolutely loved him. “Okay baby” he mused with a slight raise of his brow. “I’ll get a little more comfortable for you too.” He slapped his boyfriend playfully on his ass before wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Kissing the side of his neck in a bit of a ticklish manor before pulling away. “I love you. Don’t make me wait too long” he winked.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman stood near the doorway as he listened for Q’s steps to get quieter, and then ultimately disappear. He was so happy...genuinely, for the first time in his life, and maybe it was stupid that he needed a moment to let that sink in, but he did, and then it was on to stripping the bed. A pair of red heels, lacy panties, and lipstick to match, Roman made a meal of slinking to his boyfriend’s bedroom before standing in the doorway, cocking a slight pose as he looked over the musician.

Quentin. The entire walk back to his bedroom, he couldn’t seem to wipe the idiotic smile from his face. He was so happy, literally, and mentally. It was almost surreal to think that this was actually happening to him. He entered his room and pressed his back to the door for just a moment before changing into a pair of form fitting briefs. His hair all a mess and hanging over his face as he laid back onto his bed. It wasn’t until he heard Roman open the door that he propped himself up onto his elbows. Just taking in the vision of the most beautiful man he had ever seen as his lips parted with a sigh. “Come here, gorgeous” his heavy French accent fully giving away how turned on he was by the sight. “Come sit in my lap.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman was trying to keep up the facade of a sultry face, a sexy lion (lioness?) ready to pounce on his boyfriend as if they hadn’t just went too many rounds in one night for any normal person. But seeing him there, sitting on the bed waiting for Ro, motioning for him to come to his lap, it was hard not to just completely crumble and become a subby mess. The actor pushed himself off the doorway before turning to close, and lock it, both dimples deep in his cheeks as he smiled at the idea of being locked in here together all night. “You gonna roll me a joint first?”

[quickspinner]

April Kisses - Finale Part 2

This Finale 3-parter continues Day 17

Part 1

More April Kisses

Today we feature:

26. Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear. 20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference. 23. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating. 41. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

They were quiet on the cab ride back to the bakery. They’d done all the talking they needed to do over the last year, and both seemed content just to bask in each other’s presence for the moment. Luka could have ridden in that taxi all night with Marinette cuddled up to to his side and tucked into his arm, if the driver hadn’t had such abysmal taste in music. As much as he missed Marinette’s warmth against him when they got out, he was less disappointed than they could have been. He handed the driver Kitty Section’s business card (designed by Marinette of course, and complete with the band’s instagram and youtube channel) with his tip.

They went in the side door and Marinette paused, taking a deep breath. Luka squeezed her hand and then let go of it. “I’ll take your bag upstairs,” he told her. “You go on and see your parents.”

He got about halfway up the first flight before he paused. “Marinette?” he asked. She was still standing in the stairwell, looking up at him. 

Marinette shook her head. “I’m just happy to see you. In person, you know.” The smile she turned up at him was so content and happy that Luka couldn’t help himself; he set her suitcase on the stair and leaned over the rail, on his toes and bent nearly double to reach her, and Marinette, giggling, leaned up to meet him in a kiss that was slightly too hard and not completely on target—but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t blowing kisses across a few thousand miles. They grinned at each other, and then Marinette turned to go into the bakery as Luka grabbed the bag and nearly ran up the rest of the stairs, fizzing with nervous energy all over again.

He laughed when he heard Tom’s excited roar all the way up two floors.

Dinner was excellent, as it always was with the Dupains. Luka had been invited at least once a month while Marinette was gone. They’d even invited his mother and sister along a few times, and had a slightly cramped dinner at the Liberty that he was sure had scandalized Tom in a multitude of ways. Without Marinette there to smooth things along, it was a little awkward, especially in the beginning, but it was soon clear to Luka at least that more than anything else, they just missed their daughter and wanted any extra news they could get. He rarely had anything to share that they didn’t already know, but it did give them all a chance to get comfortable with each other. 

Although it turned out literally none of that mattered now that he was actually in physical proximity to Marinette at their table. Neither Luka nor Marinette could quite manage to keep their hands to themselves, fingers meeting and tangling together both under and over the table almost without thought. Luka could barely take his eyes off her, cataloguing all the little changes that hadn’t come across over the screens. More new freckles visible over her tan, the light curve of a scar behind and below her ear where she’d had an unfortunate encounter with a tree branch. Which only led him to realize how incredibly distracting her bare neck was with the new haircut.

And every time she turned her head his eyes kept returning to the blue gems running along the hoop decorating the top of her ear—the ones that were a match for his hair rather than her eyes. 

Luka took no offense when Tom was a little gruffer with him than usual. 

The excited smile on Marinette’s face when Tom proudly brought out some kind of custard cake dessert decorated with fruit rendered Luka both dumb and stupid for several minutes. He caught Sabine’s amused look and blushed, but Sabine just reached across the small table and patted his hand. If she gave him a knowing look when she asked Luka and Marinette to clear the table, Luka was too busy being grateful to take offense.

The moment the plates were in the sink Luka caught Marinette around the waist and dipped to press his mouth to hers. She raised up on her toes and put her arms around his neck, kissing him back with gratifying enthusiasm. He swept his tongue over her lips, tasting strawberry and custard, and she let him in for a brief moment before pulling back. “Are you still going to show me your new place?” she asked, one hand sliding down to play with the front of his shirt.

“That was the plan.” Luka’s toes curled in his boots and he bit his lip as she leaned forward and kissed his neck just above his collar, then rose up on her toes again, running her nose up his neck and inhaling before nuzzling his ear. “If you’re still up for it,” he managed, mind suddenly gone fuzzy as her lips brushed lightly against the lobe, and then moved up along the shell of his ear. Her fingers slid up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and Luka’s struggle to find words intensified. “We can wait till...um...till tomorrow if you’re tired.” 

“No, I want to see it tonight,” she breathed into his ear, and he nearly convulsed in her arms, the shudder that passed through him was so intense. “Give me a few minutes to say goodbye and we can go.”

“Okay,” he agreed roughly, and Marinette pressed one more lingering, strawberry-flavored kiss to his lips before slipping away.

Luka leaned back against the sink and contemplated sticking his head under the faucet. “Tiiki,” he whined softly. “She’s trying to kill me.” 

“Seems that way,” the tiny voice giggled from his hood. “You two agreed you’d go slow on the physical stuff for a while while you got reacquainted.”

Luka made a noise that was more acknowledgement than agreement. Because if Marinette had decided to kill him despite their agreement, he knew he’d go to his death gladly and without regrets. 

He managed to get himself calmed down enough to go back out and make it through the goodbyes without making too big a fool out of himself. They had to know by now that he was stupid in love with their daughter, anyway. Tom had tried to talk her into staying but Marinette insisted that she wanted to see Luka’s new apartment.

They found a light rain falling when they got downstairs. 

“Red sky in morning, sailor take warning,” Luka quoted to himself, chuckling and glad that he’d been awake to see the sky this morning. He reached into one of the pockets of his cargo pants and pulled out an umbrella. “Thought we might need this,” he grinned, opening it and stepping out into the rain. He turned and held his hand out to Marinette. “Ready to go?” 

Marinette stared at him for a long moment. Luka tilted his head slightly, wondering what was going on in her head. She was clearly having a moment, but he wasn’t sure what kind. Luka waited patiently, and she slowly put her hand in his. He drew her to him and under the umbrella, dropping his hand to her hip when she was near. “Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice thick. “I just love you. I really do.” 

Luka knew his grin at that was soft and sappy and everything Juleka had ever teased him about. Marinette reached up to him and he let her draw him down and kiss him sweetly, her sweet lips caressing his with a gentler, more tender emotion this time. Luka melted into it, his free arm wrapping around her waist, the umbrella tipping slightly in his distraction. “I love you too,” he told her, nudging his nose against hers. “Come on, let’s go before you get soaked.”

[nekomapi]

suggested listening: ♪ sonn - Mercy (ft. Ayelle) ♪ 

It was 2 AM and the moon was shining luminously through the window. My body was tense and shivering slightly. He was still standing by the door and the darkness enveloping his body was covering his usually hard to miss features. I was standing in the middle of the room facing away from him, worried one look would trigger the sea of tears currently stinging my eyelids.

"(Y/N)?" he whispered airily.

I flinched at the sound of his voice. His tone was usually calm and collected, but tonight I felt desperation cry out from him in the form of my name. My stomach became fuzzy as I felt something within me stir. I could hear him taking a few steps, inching his way forward and could feel heat coming off his palm that was reaching out for me.

"I n-need you."

At this I couldn't stop from turning my face towards him slowly, my eyes finding his dual colored irises. They stared right through me with a sense of determination... and despair. It was clear that sleep was the furthest thing he was able to achieve this evening. His hair was unkempt and fluffy in a way where I knew he'd been running his hands through it nervously. This tick of his had recently become difficult to watch. The attention it drew to his eyes, let alone his face, made my chest ache. His black cotton tank top hugged his toned chest tight with ease, making me believe his quirk was flaring up in anger and he'd been sweating. He also had to be wearing those delicious grey sweatpants that sinfully showed off his assets. He'd sometimes wear these during training and it made being anywhere near him absolutely unbearable. I was getting distracted in my own little fantasy until I realized his eyes were still glued to me, patiently waiting for any kind of response. His fists were tight and I noticed his body was slightly shaking. Tonight, he was definitely fighting off something.

My whole life I had been there for him when he needed an escape. I've always known my ability to manipulate emotion was given to me for a reason. The ability to take away pain and heartache from those I held close, just felt right. It gave me purpose.

These past few months... things between us had gotten, complicated. I had attempted to distance myself from him in whatever ways I could. It was difficult as we were so used to being a constant presence for one another. But concealing these feelings that had recently surfaced towards my childhood friend had become too hard to bear. Although I knew him better than anyone, he wasn't the easiest to decipher when it came to that. I was terrified of things changing and becoming uncomfortable, especially if his answer didn't mirror mine.

Even with all this, how could I possibly refuse him when he yearned for something only I could give him? After all, I loved him...deeply. It wasn't his fault that I was pulling away. There were a lot of things in life that rendered me helpless, but in this situation I had all the power. I could be the hero. He needed me. I am at your mercy, boy.

I stepped closer, smiling slightly as my hand trailed up to his eye landing gently on the cheek below. He let out a small sigh of relief and closed his eyes the minute he felt my touch. I blushed at his instant reaction. As I slightly traced the outline of his scar, my fingers began to trigger an enveloping warmth and peace that flowed into him like electricity. His entire body was covered in goosebumps and I could feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

I knew exactly what he was experiencing. Every cell in his body feeling awoken, and the weight of every decision and every horrible memory he was holding onto was melting away. My quirk had the ability to place him in his own quiet calm, where the outside world couldn't reach him. The constant clouds that followed him everywhere would diminish with what felt like rays of warm sunlight, chasing away all traces of the storm.

At the same time, my body felt as though it was on fire. I was absorbing his pain, his anger and loneliness all at once. Then would come these strong waves of desire which were Shoto's need to be separated from these chains his Father held him with. Yet underneath all this pain, I can always feel the unrelenting strength of his drive and ambition. The same strength that pushes him through each day and one I've always admired. Tonight these emotions felt stronger than usual, but I'll chalk that up to the intensity of how I now felt for him.

It was overwhelming and I felt I could easily get lost in it, in him. Tears silently started to stream down my face. He was trusting me completely to delicately navigate into the deepest corners of his mind; allowing me to personally create a space that he could feel safe in. In the past few years, I had trained how to use time to my advantage. I was able to make these carefree minutes feel like hours to Shoto, but doing so also accelerated the depletion of my stamina. Without my acknowledgment, I let a slightly embarrassing moan escape as my body ripped through emotions rapidly like water in continuous motion.

"(Y/N)"

I pried open my eyes, looking up at him. I could sense slight worry through his otherwise calmed expression. "Are you ...okay?" he heavily breathed out, "Is this.. too much?" I could feel him moving to take my hands away, but I grabbed his wrists tightly, my gaze now intense and cheeks hot with tear stains.

"Don't... I want to feel you." I leaned in and whispered with my lips touching his ear, "I want to feel every part of you. The good parts...." I moved my lips to graze his right cheek with a tender kiss, " and the bad,"... moving to the left to kiss his scar. I could feel his face get flushed under my lips and his body starting to relax again.

I loosened my grip and lead him over to the bed. He sat down and I enveloped one leg over him and straddled his body. His eyes widened, but stayed dazed on me as my fingers traced every curve of his face. There was nothing more beautiful than the way his eyes glittered in the moonlight. Keeping my hands cupped on his cheeks, I moved forward and slightly brushed my lips against his. The gentle caress of my lips made him tremble slightly. I couldn't help but smile as I pulled away slightly and rested my forehead on his. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my body fitting so well on top of him.

"(Y/N)..." he whispered, "You are every good part of me." With that, his lips hastily found mine. I let out a soft moan as his teeth bit down on my bottom lip sending shivers down my spine. His tongue slipped through my parted lips and we melted together in the most passionate and warm kiss that made every inch of me want to scream with happiness. I could feel his hands grazing up my shirt as he pulled it off slowly. His left hand was emitting intense heat on my skin while my right side shivered under the icy fingertips of his right. The conflicting temperatures made my body ache in wanting, and I caught him smirk at how it was making me squirm. He buried his face into my neck and I could feel his lips nibbling my skin gently from my ear down to my shoulder.

My body was slowly starting to work against me. I was lost in this moment and quickly diving deeper than I ever have, reaching my limit too quickly. No matter how much I tried to fight it, I could feel my ability to stay conscious escaping my control. As he held me, my body was feeling lighter and lighter. No. Not yet, I need to say this.

 third person pov 

He noticed her body and eyelids relaxing and pulled her into his chest. The pulses of energy that her hands had created throughout his body were losing their spark, but he still felt incredibly warm.

"I love you, Shouto." His eyes widened and he pulled back slightly to look in her eyes. They were closed now, her stamina completely exhausted.

He cradled her back and laid her down on the bed, pulling one of the pillows down to rest her now sleeping head.

Brushing the few strands of hair that were covering her face, he rested his hand on her cheek. How did he get so lucky as to meet this girl all those years ago. She was there for him on a level that no one else could ever be. He trusted sharing his deepest wounds and desires with her, without hesitation. He laughed quietly thinking about those three little words; the ones he'd been trying to say to her the past few months. He promised himself this was the last day he'd let her spend without knowing he felt the same. Nuzzling his nose in her hair, he closed his eyes and the remaining sparks of energy left guided him into a peaceful sleep. 

xo n.pi

[insfiringyou]

BTS - They get distracted by you when working

Thank you for the request. Keep them coming!

This can be enjoyed on its own or as part of our headcanon universe with our headcanon versions of their girlfriends.

This can also be found on Ao3 here.

& Our full masterlist can be found here

(Photo credit goes to: https://bangtan-sonyeon-scans.tumblr.com/)

Content below cut

We have written these in the order they are most likely to be distracted

1. J-Hope

Hoseok would be completely unable to stay away from you if you were in his proximity when he was supposed to be working. He generally loves being around you at all times when you are together, often absentmindedly following you into the bathroom and around the house while you are looking for things.  You would often find yourself having to tell him to go back to work or leaving altogether in an effort to get him to finish whatever projects he was working on. Hoseok is the most chatty and touchy-feely member and would always be unable to stay focussed when you were around; instead prefering to talk to you while giving you little caresses and touches.

*

“Oh, this smells so good.” Hoseok called from the doorway. You spun around from the boiling pot of sauce on the stove to look at him. A grin was fixed on his face as he walked over to you by the marble counter. “Do you want me to chop the onions?” He reached for the knife on the stand before you could protest and started cutting the round objects you had already laid out on the chopping board. “Oh!” Hoseok protested after a moment, moving his wrists to dab at his eyes. “These are strong.”

You looked over at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be finishing your verse for Yoongi?” He had finished chopping the onion and moved over to the washing up bowl, dropping the knife in the soapy water. He shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to...”

You rolled your eyes. “So don’t you think you should finish it?”

He met your gaze. “I guess so.” He wiped the blade of the knife clean with a Brillo pad and placed it carefully on the draining board. “But I want to help you cook.”

You shook your head, knowing he had to finish the song lyric soon in order for it to make the cut for the new album. “I’m perfectly fine finishing it myself.” You nodded towards the door. “Go...finish it.”

He reluctantly walked towards the doorway, looking back at you once before heading to the next room.

Sure enough, less than ten minutes later, Hoseok was once more back at your side. You had finished washing up the first set of dishes from the sauce preparation and had moved on to rolling out a layer of fresh pasta dough. He reached out and brushed a fleck of flower from your face with a giggle.

“You look like a ghost”.

You gave him a sideways gaze, unimpressed. “I half-dropped the bag of flour...it went everywhere.”

He grinned and brushed both of your cheeks gently; his fingers coming away white.

You sighed, craving more of him but knowing you were an unintentional distraction for him. “How is the song coming along?” You asked.

He quickly looked towards the doorway before back at you. “Oh...fine.”

You thought he didn’t sound very convincing.

“Do you think you’ll be able to finish it tonight?”

He looked a little sheepish. “I’ll finish it tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes once more, giving in and leaning over to peck his lips once, chastely. It wasn’t you who would have to deal with Yoongi when the song wasn’t finished in time after all. You felt Hoseok’s hands move ontop of yours, helping you press the pasta dough.

2. Jin

Jin would be unable to help but be distracted when you were around. Like Hoseok, when you are with him he enjoys spending his time at your side and doing things as a couple, although he would not go as far as to follow you to the bathroom. He loves nothing more than making you laugh with his jokes and would find himself feeling incredibly lonely if you went to another room of the house in an effort to get him to stay focussed on the task at hand. He would resist following you into the room but would sit and stare at the piece of work for a long amount of time, unable to put pen to paper and sighing loudly to himself every couple of minutes. Eventually, he would come to find you, complaining that he was unable to work without you there with him. When you did join him in the room, however, he would get too distracted by you to work anyway.

*

“Don’t blame me when Namjoon doesn’t let you write anymore.” You rolled your eyes but a small smile played on your lips. He had finally joined you in the bedroom room after sitting by himself in the living room for fifteen minutes.

“I really tried.” He moaned, moving over to your side of the bed. You sat up and put down the magazine you were reading.

“You obviously didn’t try hard enough.” Your voice was soft despite the fact you were telling him off.

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a song writer anyway.” He said, his voice still whiney. His arms hung heavily at his sides as he overdramatised his movements.

You shook your head with a smile. “I think you just need to concentrate.”

He thought for a moment, holding out his hand and taking yours. “I think I might be able to do it if you are with me.”

“That’s not true is it?” You looked up at him, remembering the last time he had asked you to be at his side while he worked. You had ended up playing a game of Monopoly with him before making love on the sofa. The worst attempt at procrastination you had ever seen.

He flashed you a grin. “It’s the thought that counts.And I’m thinking about working.”

You sighed as you got to your feet.

3. Jimin

Jimin would love having you around while he was working, such as during dance practice, but would find himself giving you a lot of attention; frequently stopping what he was doing to talk to you or make little comments about how cute you were. As he has less to do with the song writing aspects of the band and is a naturally talented and quick to learn dancer, being distracted wouldn’t have as many negative long-term effects as it would on some of the other members. However, of all the members, he would be the most likely to bring his girlfriend along to a group practice session which might lead to the other members getting annoyed at how distracted he was. He would love showing off his dance moves while you were around; his movements would be especially sensual as he knows you are watching.

*

“I think I have to do that part again.” He walked to the centre of the dance studio and took his starting position.

“It looked fine to me.” You said from your position sat on the hard wooden floor. You crossed your legs as you looked up at him.

He shook his head. He was a little out of breath. “It was off. That last part.”

You sighed. “You’re too critical on yourself.”

He seemed to ignore this last comment. “Can you count me in?”

You counted to three and watched as his body spun and twisted into marvelous shapes; his soft feet tapping against the hard wood as he twirled around in the air like a ballerina. He finished the dance, a short number intended for the bridge of a group song, and came over to you with a small smile. His breathing was laboured but the blush which stained his cheeks made him look impossibly beautiful.

“What did you think?” He asked.

You smiled. “It was beautiful.”

4. RM

Namjoon would often find himself procrastinating while you were around, putting things off until later. He would usually spend a short amount of time doing a lot of work and then the rest of the time being distracted. He is able to work to some extent with you around; he would let you sit on his knee while he wrote the odd lyric or worked out the band schedule for the next week. He would wrap his arms around your waist or stroke your leg while he worked. Things would often get heated, however, and he would be unable to work once he had made love for you, rendering the rest of the evening useless.

*

He reached out and crossed out a word on the sheet of paper in front of him.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, his spare hand wrapped firmly around your waist.

You nodded in agreement. You were sitting on his thigh and watching as he wrote down a to-do list, the names of each member sketched next to a list of chores.

“You missed out Hoseok.” You said, pointing to the piece of paper.

Namjoon paused. “Oh yeah, you’re right.” He added the older member’s name to the bottom of the list. “He’s in Spain at the moment but he’ll be back on Monday.”

You adjusted yourself on his knee; shifting your bottom to make yourself more comfortable. “Are you writing later?” You asked, curious as to whether you should go back to your apartment to have lunch.

He shook his head. “It can wait.” He moved his arm on your stomach to pull you closer and you relished his touch.

5. Jungkook

Jungkook would generally be good at avoiding distractions when you are around but he would be prone to “zoning out” while he is working alone. He might also end up accidently procrastinating by playing video games for hours and losing track of the time. You might have to be the one to remind him that he should be working, if you entered his bedroom to find him playing videogames. Having said that, if he is working he would generally prefer to not have you in the room as he would think you were bored and, as he is prone to being very quiet when he concentrates, would feel guilty that he wasn’t talking to you.

*

“Jungkook?” You knocked gently on his bedroom door. Namjoon had let you into the shared house, unsure of whether Jungkook was home or not, having not seen him all morning. There was no reply, so you knocked harder, your knuckles rapping on the wood. A moment later, the door opened just a crack and you saw your boyfriend.

“Oh, hi.” He opened the door widely to let you in. He looked genuinely surprised to see you. “What are you doing here?” He asked. You observed a smart shirt and pair of freshly laundered jeans placed neatly on his made bed. He was wearing what you came to think of as his casual clothes; a plain white T-shirt and a faded pair of blue jeans. His feet were bare against the carpet.

“It’s midday.” You said as he turned around to look at you. “You were supposed to be meeting me at half 11.”

“What?” He walked over to his bedside table and picked up his black G-Shock, checking the time. “Oh...” He looked both shocked and guilty in an instant. “I didn’t forget...” He tried to explain. He walked to the centre of the room where a small, two person sofa sat in front of a large T.V. Your eyes flickered to the screen. Animated figures stood paused against a medieval looking background. “Namjoon got me this new game as an early birthday present and...” He saw your reaction and his shoulders dropped. “I’m so sorry. I just....lost track of the time.” He looked up at you. “Are you angry?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. It was inconvinient that you had to walk to half mile from the place you were supposed to be meeting to his house, but the pathetic look of his face, so much like a small puppy, made your heart sink. You walked over to him and kissed his lips gently.

“Just get dressed. We can still make the film if we get a taxi.”

6. Suga

Yoongi would be able to work comfortable with you in the same room without being overly distracted. He would love simply having you around while he wrote or produced songs. He is the type to go for someone who is also content at getting on with her own things and you would usually just read a book or get on with your own work. He would break the silence every now and again to ask you questions or make small talk. He is not one to usually talk in detail about what he is working on, instead prefering to keep it to himself until the product is finished.

*

“Have you got a black ballpoint?” You asked. You were sat on the small sofa in the corner of the studio while Yoongi sat in his swivel chair at the desk. He was leaning over a sheet of paper, writing every now and again a word or two. He looked briefly around his desk before picking up a pen.

“Here.” He held it out in his left hand while he continued to write with his right.

You walked over to him and took it before returning to the sofa. You used the small coffee table in front of the sofa to write on the small bundle of paper, the scratching of both your pens filled the otherwise silent air. After ten minutes Yoongi raised his head.

“What are you writing?” He asked, his curiosity apparent if a little delayed.

You looked up and met his gaze. “It’s to do with professional development.“ You rolled your eyes and Yoongi grinned in reponse. “There’s ten pages to fill in and I have to do it tomorrow if I want my pay rise.”

“You’re getting a pay rise?”

You nodded. “An extra two percent per hour.” You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“They’re cunts.” He said, shaking his head with a sigh. 

You looked down the list of questions and quoted: “If a customer asks you to double his usual dose of medication without a doctors’ note do you A: Give him the prescription. B: Telephone his GP. Or C: Refuse to serve him.”

You heard Yoongi chuckle from the corner of the room and you grinned in reponse before turning back to your paper.

7. V

Taehyung would be the most likely to almost completely ignore you if he was working; prefering to concentrate on getting the task at hand finished before giving you his full attention. This has been proven in many of the BTS series where he has been one of the most compitent at making products such as the pottery class. His silence would make you feel the need to leave the room and give him some space.

*

You heard Taehyung humming cheerfully behind you as he walked into the kitchen. He went over to the marble counter and took a brightly coloured enamel cup from the mug tree; flipping it over and placing it on the side as he turned on the electric kettle. As the water boiled, he walked over to you and kissed your cheek; his fringe brushed your neck and you giggled a little at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re finished then?” You asked, savouring his soft scent as he leaned in closer.

“Mmhm.” He confirmed, smiling as he pulled away and walked back to the counter.

“You looked pretty focussed. I didn’t want to interrupt you.” You said, watching as he reached into the cupboard and pull out a peppermint tea bag. He turned around to face you and held up the green box of teabags, his eyebrow raised, questioning. “Yes thank you.” You confirmed his silent question and he cheerfully picked another little mug from the side and placed a second tea bag in the cup.

“It’s okay, I got it finished.” He confirmed as he poured the steaming water into the cups.

“Good.” You smiled as he joined you at the little kitchen table. He moved his hand to brush your face gently and your heart lept in your chest.

***

Thanks for reading. Our full masterlist can be found here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita.  LFN and its charactnters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander. This is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination.  

There may be some suggestive chapters (S) and scenes of a violent (V) and or sexual nature (NSFW) through the course of this story. 

Manip - @sassylover-stuff SYNOPSIS: James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp are Section One operatives from the most covert of all antiterrorist organizations that wages war against those who would destroy ... or at the very least reorder... society. Its adversaries, who have remained beyond the reach of normal police and intelligence agencies, are many, and they are ruthless, and so Section resorts to measures that would be unacceptable for most government organizations. For this reason, Section jealously guards its anonymity. It recruits criminals and killers and gives them a choice: death or life as a Section operative. It's usually a rather short life for operatives are expendable, and losses are high, but then so are the stakes in a global power struggle against sinister terrorist organizations such as the Triad group called The Rising Dragons.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

 Covert Operations - The Rising Dragons  

  The Dragon rises up his back In daylight near and far He soars at night with deadly eye Beneath the moon and star The Rising Dragon! Be cautious of its ruthless ways This enigma to the night For the Dragon bears upon his wings A chilling tale of fright The Rising Dragon! “Death with Honour” its way of life With motto “Strength by Dare” Once you yield fear nought … but When it seeks you, beware! The Rising Dragon! CHAPTER 1 (S) In the early hours of the morning Section One operative Claire Beauchamp was in a sound but restless sleep. Her mind, however, was filled with the images of her partner and mentor Jamie Fraser and herself on last night’s mission together. Waiting in a darkened city street outside the nightclub, we wait to seize the two heroin dealers and lovers whom we are to replace on an upcoming mission. They are to be our point of entry to our target’s party circle and his dealings with Red Cell. I keep glancing into the alleyway to see if they are coming … but Jamie is somewhat distracted … which is most unusual for him. I have been a little flippant with him tonight joking about our so-called “date” and the setting where it was happening and I feel like teasing him just a bit more. “You always take me to such nice places, James Fraser.” He keeps looking at me as if he wants to commit me to memory … as if he can’t get enough of me. I watch his eyes as they caress my features over and over. Moving right into my space … Jamie overwhelms me. I can barely breathe let alone think properly. He is so close to my face that I can taste his lips and feel the soft, warm caress of his words.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laying in her bed, Claire smiled languorously in her dream-induced sleep as Jamie Fraser’s words and actions washed over her.

 Leaning into me while we are waiting for the targets to appear, the soft timbre of Jamie’s voice affects my senses.

“Where are you staying tonight?” 

His words sent a tingle running down her spine and she recalled the soft whisper of his breath near her cheek as they were uttered. Unconsciously Claire sighed in her sleep as her body had seemed to gravitate to the gorgeous man who was her enigmatic partner. Jamie’s words had sent her heart fluttering as to the underlying innuendo of those five softly spoken words against her cheek.  It had been dark in the alleyway but she wondered had he been able to see the vein throb in her neck or see that her face was a little flushed or that her eyes had slightly glazed over with a hopeful but questioning look?

 Her eyelids twitched and a little grin crossed her mouth as if she was remembering the satisfied reply of her answer.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “They’ve assigned me to temporary quarters not far from my little apartment.” I look disdainfully around the alleyway that we are waiting in observing the background of noisy traffic, rubbish bins and drunks walking by. Taking one look at the setting and then looking at James Fraser, I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of our surroundings. Catching his gaze as he studies me I reply light heartedly, “I’ve got to say, my new pad’s almost as nice as this.” Jamie smiles at me with this quirky little grin that I just love when the sides of his mouth bow in a conspiratorial way. “For how long?” He inquires hopefully. “Two weeks.” I answer. I know that thought processes are obviously churning over in Jamie’s head. I know those blank stares of his. They infuriate me at times but they speak so much without words. He replies somewhat tongue in cheek, but I’m sure he means every word he says. I can see it in his eyes. They sparkle with mischief. “You could stay with me.” Jamie strokes my shoulders leisurely with his gentle but strong hands. Caressing my body through my clothes … it feels as if I have nothing on at all. The heat of his touch is scorching me. It burns right to the core of my being. I’m on fire for more than just my partner’s potent caresses. I close my eyes ... I can’t look at him for fear I will be roasted alive. I feel the heat shoot through my body at his nearness as my nerve endings tingle with desire. I can’t help it … I groan. “Ahh! Jam -ie!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Tossing and turning Claire called out again to Jamie in her sleep. Groaning incoherently, his name echoed in her room as she writhed in her bed feeling his tender touch on her body. Jamie’s caresses never failed to set off alarm bells ringing inside her. Even the mere thought of this man touching her ignited her senses making Claire long for something real from him … something that was a little bit more intense … something that would leave her smouldering with unbridled want and need. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

 I say to him … but in my mind I relay my real thoughts and answer, “Oh my God! I hope that IS what he is asking …YES! YES! YES! Please…” I yearn to say instead. 

He is so hard to read at times but the next words out of his mouth in that sexy Scottish brogue nearly render me speechless. “You’d be more comfortable.” I can hardly believe what I am hearing from James Fraser.  I feel faint. Oh, how I have longed to hear such words uttered from his mouth … but I can’t help but wonder how serious Jamie is about his proposition so I ask.

 “Well, is this for two weeks or were you thinking of something a little more … permanent?” 

Before I have barley finished speaking his eyes seize mine. I cannot breathe … I’m riveted. His eyes are mesmerizing. Trapping me in his sights, Jamie’s eyes show he means every word. I stand transfixed before him … lost to him. “We’d have more privacy,” he says. We are so close that every time we talk, we are almost kissing. In fact his lips do brush mine but it is not enough … not nearly enough. However much I love his soft caresses … I want him to deepen the connection and ravish me like he’d done once before.  I want to go off like a firecracker … just like I did on that special night on the boat in Lyons. Primal … feral … wanton.  If only he would take me … here … now … in the alleyway … I really don’t care … I just want him to kiss me passionately, deeply ... and senseless. Although my mind wants more, my lips are content to feel Jamie’s lips gently caress mine as each wonderful word leaves his mouth with sincerity and intent. His eyes … the windows to his soul are laid bare for me to see the depth of his feelings. I know what he wants to do because I want the same thing. But I lower my gaze to his fingertips lightly caressing my lips then gaze back up into his eyes saying, “And how is it, that you think that we’re going to get away with that?” But James Fraser doesn’t answer me … his lips zero in on mine and he begins to...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Brrr brrr ... brrr brrr … Before Claire even had enough time to waken properly from the wonderful erotic dream she was having, her cell phone echoed in her apartment. Brrr brrr ... brrr brrr … “Aarrgghhhh!” she mumbled incoherently as the incessant ringing eventually woke her up.

 Grunting, Claire rubbed her eyes, then reaching out her hand searched for where she had left the phone. Moaning loudly into her darkened bedroom she picked it up reluctantly from the bedside table. With eyes still closed and her body tingling from the visions of her pleasurable dream Claire lay back on her bed and reluctantly answered in a husky voice, “Yeah …?” 

Surprisingly enough the main focus of her vivid dream was the very person on the other end of the line.

 “Jos-e-phine …”

The sexy timbre of Jamie’s voice caressed Claire’s ear as if a kiss had been planted there instead. In her dream, he had just been about to kiss her … but here he was using her code name and asking her to come into Section. Begrudgingly glancing at the clock illuminating the room in the darkness, Claire focused on the early hour of the day. Although this was not unusual procedure for Section One, Claire hated these early morning wake up calls, but Jamie had called her in as a matter of urgency for a new mission was being profiled. Turning off her cell phone, Claire moaned into her pillow.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued

[namjoonchronicles]

Tumbleweed, Her #2 - [BAP] Mafia!Au

Previously: Part 1

The Fugitive: Moon Jongup.

He is a tired soul, himself. He had lost his purpose and finding himself in the midst of nowhere had sent him in a frantic life long search of a destination that he can't seem to find, anywhere, near him. But when he saw you, he made you as his focal point. He didn't know you, but you were so accepting and kind, he found home in you.

The night accompanied by heavy rain sent Jongup drenched. He found your apartment by chance. Bloodied, with severed lips, abrasion covering his fore arms, you took him in. Treated him, catered to him, nursed him back to health. He never thought banging on a stranger's door would lead to an angel like you. Everything about him is doubtful. He was too shaken up to even speak back then. He had a compass tattoo on his neck that was as impressive as his looks. A little cut on that beautiful nose bridge and the purple bruise on the side of his lips didn't seem to waver the fact that he was indeed, good looking. He was whimpering in pain for several days.

He had fevers too. His electrifying blue hair swept back as you pressed a wet cloth on his forehead, sitting by the edge of the bed. "You need to go see the doctors." You said, worriedly, like a mother to a child, creases forming between your eyes as you spoke and Jongup just sniffed, curled to his side, panting heavily, gripping your wrist as strong as he could to obtain your attention and he when you looked at him, he clenched his eyes shut and hissed, with a shake of his head. It should go away soon. But you don't have enough medication at home so you looked at your phone a lot. You looked over  your shoulder as Jongup lays asleep on your single bed.

Your thumb scrolls down the contact list and stopped at Yongguk's name.

Jongup sat up as you helped him eat the rice porridge you made. "I hope nothing's broken." You said, as you watch him eat from the spoon that you held up. Jongup still couldn't speak. But his bruises are almost gone from the rest he had gotten, and then his cracked lips seems to patch themselves up pretty well. "Are you still in pain?" You asked, softly. He shook his head, wearing a thin angelic smile on his lips and although it was brief, you were quite relief to see him this way compared to the way you found him, several nights ago. "You have to finish up this whole bowl of porridge before I let you sleep." There's a slight playfulness in your voice. And he whispered, after a bit of difficulty, "Thank you."

Your doorbell buzzed. You set the bowl on the side table by your bed, next to Jongup and ran to the doors. "Who is it?" You had to rely on your voice because there's peephole in this door. "It's me, open up."

It was Bang Yongguk's voice. You poke your head back to your room where Jongup were, and pressed your index finger to your lips, "Don't say a word. Act like you're not here, ok?" Jongup nodded. He heard you unlocked the doors, and some of the conversations.

"Here's the medications you asked." He had a deep voice. "How sick are you?" Jongup didn't hear the reply from your side, but he could hear some heavy sighs from Yongguk. "You don't have to swat my hands that way. I was just asking. I'm worried. Your mom's worried about you, too." Yongguk sighs again. This time you replied something, but it was too soft for Jongup to catch on. "I heard you got a job, what sort of job is it." Yongguk interrogated, and then Jongup heard that he tried to enter but you said no. "The house is messy? Fine... but what sort of job doesn't include health care for their staffs? You're working in an actual office, aren't you?" Yongguk was clearly someone you knew well.

The topic of choice rendered Jongup suspicious about who this Yongguk is. And about you working? You hadn't left the house since he came, so he wondered what kind of job that you have, that you can stay at home. It can't be an online business because, you would have had a laptop or a computer or a printer. But you have none of those. "Just, take care of yourself well, when I'm not around. Please." That's just way too intimate to be a just-friends kind of conversation. Jongup heard the front door closed and you brought the medication from the pharmacy to Jongup. "There's a thermometer we could use, and there's also a painkiller pills for you to take. I asked for sleeping pills but apparently, we need a prescription, for that. You have been crying in your sleep too." You sighed, sitting on the floor by the bed as Jongup fed himself.

"What's your name?" You asked. "Moon. M-moon Jongup." He stammered.

Watching him sleep is probably your favorite thing to do. When he was having one of those episodes where he cries in his sleep, you often woke up and placed your hand on his shoulder, cooing him. You sat on the edge of the bed, placed one arm draped over him, and rubbed his back as he curl to his side. Then, the crying will stop. Initially, you would leave him after that but one time, Jongup, while still having his eyes closed, would say, "I sleep better when you're around."

You smiled at him, rested your chin on your forearm that's laying flat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable if you lay on the bed as well?" Jongup thought.

He is back on his two feet and this time, he finally sees you leaving for work. You'd return home with bags of groceries, and you'll start cooking. He'd hug you from behind, inhaling your scent like oxygen and nestled his face into your nape. "I've missed you." He grunts softly into your skin. "That's cute." You would giggle. "There's a job vacancy in the pharmacy down the street, can you drive?" You asked him, "It'll be a good job to find footing. They don't pay a lot but it's a good way to start...I got this apartment from a friend, that's why I didn't have to pay deposits but, it's time for us to split the bills if you intend to stay here. With me." You gently say, with a smile.

He snaked his hands around your waist and squeezed you affectionately. He turned you around to face him, pressing you between him and the kitchen counter with his eyes shrinking as he smiles, "I want to stay here with you, and therefore, I will work." He giggles, and plant a kiss on your lips. You gazed into his eyes with a thankful smile, and ran your index finger down the bridge of his nose and stopped at the mounted scar on it. "We have to do something about this scar..." You said, as he closed his eyes and smile, like a puppy being rubbed on the tummy. "Your beautiful face don't deserve this scar." You added. You sighed and push him away lightly to resume your cooking. "We need to eat...so don't distract me." You grinned, warning him.

But Jongup couldn't keep his hands to himself, he would dip his thumb underneath the hems of your shorts, while you cook. He would tug your shirt lower so he could kiss your neck, murmuring sweet words in your ear, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. A literal sweetheart, really. He'd casually brush his hot lips on your ear while you talk about the people you encountered today. Or the news you've read from news stands. The gossip you heard from the aunties who sold you vegetables. He would squeeze your butt for the squeal that comes after. And he loves it when you shout his name, in bed or out of bed. Both sounds like a lullaby to him.

Laying naked on him as he stared at the ceiling after a sweet love-making, you'd draw meaningless circles on his chest, tracing his compass tattoo on his neck with your index finger. "...Why a compass?" You asked, softly. You felt his hand on your back, floating, grazing your skin with his nails, gently as he answered with a far look, in his eyes. "Just. Looking for a purpose. Trying to find where 'forward' is. The next step. The following stop in life." He sighs, then he turns to you, in close proximity, clashed your nose with his. You giggled, and placed your index finger on his lips. "I'm not just a stop for you, am I?" You said it with a small smile.

Jongup's expression turned for a second, before he smirked back at you, "You're a destination."

It's probably a month already, when he stayed over at your place. He's well and fit to work already, so he walked down the pharmacy you mentioned and entered through the entrance door.

"Welcome, how may I help you?" A young good looking man greeted Jongup in a white lab coat and Jongup was quick to realize that he was a pharmacist. And slightly, he was envious of him. "I was told that there's a job, a driver?" Jongup asked. "Oh, you're that guy. Well, hello...!" This man was grinning ear to ear. "...I'm Yoo Youngjae. The pharmacist. My family owns this pharmacy." He extended his arm to Jongup and Jongup, took it, without much thought. Jongup then, went home.

Jongup received a call from you, with his smart phone, given by Youngjae. "I'm sorry I couldn't call you back, it was just really loud. Anyways, I'm making a short trip to Youngjae's pharmacy, do you want anything?" Jongup said no, to you and ended the call expecting you to arrive shortly.

Two hours, became three hours, and three hours, became four. But you're still not home. Jongup got down to the pharmacy, but as expected, it was already closed. Where could you be?

You didn't answer his calls. None of his texts. For some reason, he had a bad feeling about this. So he went to the police station the next day. And search for Bang Yongguk. But Bang Yongguk works in Injoo station now. So he took a day off and a bus to Injoo, to speak to the only man he knew works as a policemen.

Yongguk stood before him extending his arm. "How'd you know me? How'd you know her?" "I saw your name card by her fridge, but it was back when you worked in Seoul. I called the number on it, but you didn't answer." Jongup said.

"You didn't tell me how you knew her." Yongguk spat.

Jongup gazes up, slowly, "...I. Lived with her."

Yongguk pushed Jongup down with his chair and grabbed him by the collar, straddling him. The whole police station roared in dissatisfaction, some of the civilians there voicing out police brutality when Yongguk just wanted some answers. "Put your jealousy away. She never told me who you were to her, so man to man, let's be adults and focus on what's really wrong, here." Jongup gritted his teeth as he spoke. Yongguk flashed an insincere smile, and nodded, "OK. Sure. After I punch you." Yongguk threw his fist on Jongup's lips.

"Ah, seriously." Jongup darted his eyes up the ceiling, tasting stale blood in his mouth, wondering why on earth does this always happen to him.

Yongguk brought him to an interrogating room and questioned him there. "The last time she called, she said she's out of the bus, and is making a short trip to the pharmacy down the apartment, Yoo Youngjae's Pharmacy. But she never returned."

"So." Yongguk shot. Jongup wiped blood from his lips with his thumb and sighed, "That punk hasn't been working since she disappeared."

"How would you know?" Yongguk asked. "I worked there." Jongup spit blood into the paper cup Yongguk gave him.

Next: Part 3 

[doodlewash]

My name is Jill Gustavis, and I’m originally from Pittsfield, Massachusetts but my husband and I moved over the NY border to quiet Stephentown in 2016. Since that time, you could say my daily exposure to the country and job at work have helped me reprioritize my art.

I’ve been artistically inclined and encouraged since childhood, but I found myself doing less and less art as I made my way through school. I mostly worked with pencils and oil through high school, and acrylics afterwards. I’d still really enjoy it when I did create, and sometimes the works were incredibly encouraging for being few and far between, but I still couldn’t find time.

Now fast forward to college, and my years earning a degree in Interior Design because I was one of many people under the perception that Artist, as a job, was a ‘dream job’, so I picked something ‘professional’. Now, I still pull many useful things from that degree, even though I don’t work in that field anymore. The most important being perspective and illustration techniques, but also a working use of Photoshop and some color theory. I was very basically introduced to watercolors during those years and even completed the renderings for my thesis project using Sakura’s Koi colors. I’ve had basic art instruction in a few areas, i.e. open ended art studio, drawing and composition, and interior rendering, but no extensive instruction as to how to really use the materials available, nevermind master them.

After trying to work in the Interior Design field after college (circa 2008, right when the recession happened) I was relieved to be laid off and had an excuse to freelance as an illustrator and graphic designer. Freelancing was a great change of pace, but ultimately I didn’t enjoy the assertiveness and discipline needed for self-employment at the time. A year or two later, in 2011, I started at the company I now work for, Lymphedivas. We make fashionable medical grade compression garments that treat lymphedema (sleeves and handpieces). In a way, this is where my journey back into painting starts.

I loved school, I’m a smarty pants at heart, and when it comes to art, I like assignments. After working my way up from a Production position, to Junior Designer, to Art Director, I now illustrate patterns based on a set collection of ideas. Yes, I am responsible for helping come up with said ideas, but then I have a timeline to get them done. A deadline is the surest way to be productive for me. Many of these patterns I create with watercolors on paper and then manipulate them to fit the garments in the computer.

Every time I would start a new painted design at work, my inner artist would rejoice and tell myself, “See, you love this, you should do this more at home!”. I would get all excited to get home and paint, only to get home and be exhausted, make dinner, watch TV or read, and go to bed.

Jump to 2016 and we were planning on moving to a more relaxing country area, I was doing lots of art at work, and something clicked. I felt more motivated to do art at home, and I followed through not once, or twice, but consistently. I started an Instagram account for my art that March. I invested in artist-quality paints and brushes. I made time. Now, a year and a half later, I’m still amazed at what I’d been missing all that time I didn’t pick up my brush. But I’ve also learned not to beat myself up about it, I wasn’t ready, and I let it go.

Now, I’d say I regularly paint, but I don’t always have a smooth studio session. I developed into quite the analytical thinker during those years away from my paints and sometimes this is a good thing as an artist, and sometimes it’s not so helpful. For one, and I think a lot of beginning and seasoned artists can relate, I struggle with the “what’s my style?” question a LOT.

The ‘how’ and ‘why’ of painting seems to have an immense philosophical weight. At work I paint what the pattern needs to look like, very straightforward. At home I can do ANYTHING I want, and that’s a bit crippling when you like to over analyze your options.

I also enjoy doing a little of everything creative. In addition to watercolors, I spend time doing photography, sewing, knitting, calligraphy, acrylics, carving, furniture restoration, interior organizing, and gardening to name a good range of interests. I don’t do some of these things regularly, but occasionally working the brain in areas related to painting is like Crossfit for your creative juices. That and I don’t end up making myself hate painting, forcing myself do it when I don’t want to. Instead I come back excited, missing my paints.

I enjoy the change-up the most after I do a lot of visual thinking or painting at work, I can come home and attempt to carve something, knit, work on the house, or anything that involves making something with my hands and intuition more than thinking.

At the same time, the large repertoire means my choices aren’t just limited to painting when I find an hour or two. I love learning about Leonardo da Vinci, he was the master of doing a little of everything. I do wonder if his brain felt a bit permanently scattered? Maybe I should make a magic 8 ball or an origami fortune-teller to make those decisions for me.

When I’m painting I’ve found, simulating the focus of an assignment, I have to trick my brain. I have to just jump in. My favorite way to do this, is to look through a portfolio of printed pictures I’ve taken, pick one, and paint it. I’ve painted some of them many times and each one looks completely different.

I also scroll through my phone photos, but then it’s easier to get distracted by Instagram or pulled into Pinterest. When I’m really lucky, I get to paint from life. Although, with my two cats, bringing flowers and plants into the house doesn’t happen anymore because they like to eat them, or at least knock them over.

My style ranges all over the spectrum from detailed studies to loose gestural sketches. When I became more focused last year, I followed a lot of botanical painters like Anna Mason and various botanical societies because my style using acrylics is very realistic. As time progressed, honestly, I got a little bored looking at only perfect renditions all the time and I started including looser artists like Angela Fehr, Thomas Schaller, and Eudes Correia. I have to really concentrate to do loose work, but most consistently, it ends up mostly realistic with some extra contrast or soft edges. My sense of perspective usually gets skewed too, still working on that.

Now, instead of saying I’m going to do a painting in a particular style, I just paint the subject however I’m feeling, then look to see what I like, what I learned, and what I’d do differently. Maybe in 10 years I’ll have a better answer to that question, maybe not.

My favorite subjects to paint are flowers, hands down. I love the organic shapes and tonal shifts, bright colors and endless variety. Most of my work is flowers, and I’m sure that will increase as I work to add a flower garden to our property in the future.

Other favorites are architecture, glass, and highly contrasting landscapes. There’s something highly satisfying about painting a subject with interesting shapes, colors or textures. I’ve had more fun painting tiny etched vases than full blown roses. I’ve come up short and bored, halfway through a highly repetitively detailed subject enough to know they’re just not for me, at least not in a detailed manner. I favor variety and contrast, I think it adds interest not only to your work, but also your practice. Sometimes looking for something truly moving to paint handicaps my sessions though, and I just end up being too picky and don’t paint anything.

When I can’t decide what to paint, only have a short amount of time, or I’m avoiding having to decide on anything, I’ll do color studies. Yay! A good outlet for my analytical brain. I can sit and swatch out colors for an entire day, and maybe come to one or two decisions, but enjoy the process the entire time. I’ve found the results of these romps is not always immediate, but they gradually build up an understanding of the materials I’m using.

On occasion, if I plan what the experiment is for, I’ll have more tangible results. For example, I received some samples of different papers from some lovely fellow Instagram artists, and since I really wanted to understand their properties as much as possible from that little sample, I made a plan. I took a look at what I usually paint, two subjects with different properties, and I decided that I do a lot of flowers and landscapes.

Painting the same flower, an iris in this instance, on half of each sample let me test how the paper took to soft blending and lots of detail. Painting the same landscape scene on the other half of each paper demonstrated how well the paper worked more wet, how fast it absorbed, and displayed the layered coats of pigment. It worked beautifully and I still have the swatches to reference.

Color studies also include supply explorations. They are not tests, but explorations, because I really do get that excited about them; it’s an adventure into the unknown! I also possess some Daniel Smith dots cards, and after playing around making pretend palettes, I’ve been known to write-up and recycle enough “potential new supplies” lists to make my own watercolor paper. Maybe one out of every handful actually gets saved for consideration when I do add to my supplies. My most recent exploration resulted in completing my translucent warm and cool primary options. As I tend to get muddy quickly, I’m hoping I’ll be able to scale back the heaviness of some of my work and learn the benefits of glazing.

Because I have a hard time making decisions on most things (especially exciting things like art supplies), I’ve mostly stuck to one brand of paint so far. I have one tube of M.Graham, but the rest of my artist paints are Daniel Smith. I enjoy the wide range of foundational and novelty colors that they offer, and like I said, the access to dot cards to try out paint colors instead of guessing has often hooked me once I see and feel a new color. Brush choice still eludes me. Like my assortment of pens, I switch from one to another as my mood changes.

I do enjoy the softness of squirrel, as well as the soft spring of sable. I use both in natural and synthetic options. For natural, I’m currently in love with my sable pointed round and squirrel mop from Rosemary & Co. out of England. For synthetic, I’ve started using the Neptune and Versatil series from Princeton and Escoda respectively. I’ve enjoyed all of them for different reasons too. The world of artist papers is still new to me and I know it’s taboo, but this was the last thing I upgraded. No one will ever convince me that cellulose paper doesn’t still have a place in my studio, but as I spend time and learn to work with the new, more absorbent cotton paper, I’m less frustrated by it’s unfamiliar behavior.

At work currently I have on hand: Strathmore 400 Series 140lb CP paper, Koi tube colors and my personal Black Velvet Squirrel brush. The paintings I do for designs are not for display or long-term use, so light-fastness is not an issue. I may upgrade the supplies as needed and as I learn more about them personally and see what would benefit my workflow there. I believe the pros and cons of supplies is a fluid subject, everything has it’s place and I’ve dug out supplies I’d hidden away in disappointment, only to fall in love with it using a new technique, or having changed my preference.

Excited to use those lovely supplies, I often get hung up on what to paint. I’ll make very extensive and thorough lists of potential projects, styles to try, experiments, etc. I’ll write them down with gusto, thoroughly excited to try them out the second I get a chance. Only I read through them as I sit down, and still feel unmotivated by these previously exhilarating ideas. A lot of times it comes down to it being after work, I’m tired, and I don’t want to start something. Other times it’s a roadblock I have that prevents me from creating anything I can’t envision a use for. If I can’t see it hanging in my house, and no one asked for it, then why am I painting it? I jokingly call it my KonMari syndrome. Like I said, I have to trick myself into painting anything sometimes.

This is where work comes in again. I enjoy having assignment-like focus when I paint. This no hesitation painting is most beneficial when I’m in a rut at home, and it makes me physically remember I like painting. Like running, I know I’ll feel good once I get out there, and starting is not always easy, but once I physically feel the high kick in, I remember why I like running and it’s easier to jump in the next day. I’ve tried doing the Doodlewash prompts, but I think I’ve only done one since last July… I’m setting a personal goal to try and do the 31 in 31 challenge this World Watercolor Month. Maybe I’ll make a gallery just for them on my portfolio site just to hold me accountable.

To make it even more confusing as to why I find it hard to paint, some of my work pieces are also the most rewarding. This is especially true when I have to paint something I’ve never painted before. I then get to research it (yay!) and do studies, and learn how to paint something new. I push more personal boundaries doing the wide array of painting styles at work than I ever have at home. I’m really excited right now, because I think I’m just starting to really understand the knack of water control, timing, and layering on my current work project.

The other really positive influence my professional work brings is the effect it has on the world. I’ve always wanted to do something that benefits society and when I did Interior Design, that was possibly designing environments that help people live better. Now, I create art that makes the very uncomfortable condition of lymphedema more bearable and less stigmatizing. My grandfather, who owned his own mechanic garage, once told me that he never hated going to work a day in his life. He may have meant he enjoyed working for himself, but I’d like to think a lot of that satisfaction is doing something you find purpose in too.

The long and short of it is trust your intuition, you’ll arrive at your destination when you’re ready. I’m still toying with the idea of selling and showing my work. I’ve done a few personal commissions, but I’m endlessly researching what would be the best route (web & paperwork/taxwise). I also contemplate how I want this new aspect to fit in with my already busy life.

I’m happy with where I am now. I may have took the roundabout route to get here but I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past few years; how what helps you create balance is constantly shifting, and to have patience with everything including yourself.

So, I paint when I can, I post when I can, and the only reason I finally got my website up and running was because Charlie offered me the opportunity to write this post and I thought, “Since I’m editing images, I should probably do those too… “. Chalk one up for deadlines!

All Lymphedivas patterns were commissioned by and are the property of Lymphedivas, LLC and have been shared here with expressed written permission.

Jill Gustavis Website Instagram Work Website

GUEST ARTIST: "The Long And Short Of It" by Jill Gustavis - #WorldWatercolorMonth #doodlewash My name is Jill Gustavis, and I’m originally from Pittsfield, Massachusetts but my husband and I moved over the NY border to quiet Stephentown in 2016.