#can you tell I don’t flip my canvas

[imreaallyasorry]

BABY GIRL!!!!!!!

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged and NSFW HCs, PART 2!

Once again, minors do not interact! I made you guys a part 2 of my current thoughts. No plot or card spoilers in my comments or reblogs, please and thank you 💙

Part 1

Rafayel

Have you met this man? He wants to know where you’re at and who you’re with at all times. So jealous. It’s probably in your best interest to forget other men exist once you’re dating him

Convinced you to suck his dick while he’s painting to see if it helps convey emotion into his painting—he accidentally pushed the paintbrush through the canvas when he came

Loves when you ride him—it’s so cute watching you bounce on him and use his body for your own pleasure. This also allows him to sit back a little and enjoy every sound you make, every facial expression, every feeling. Of course he does eventually get bored and flips you onto your back for his turn

Before you’re dating, he persuades you into being a nude model for him. He takes his time caressing your skin and telling you he has to “feel” the art, lets his hands wander and linger as he moves your body little by little until you’re in the exact position he wanted. Spends hours staring at your naked body, pretending to draw it (he finished his sketch hours ago but he doesn’t want you getting dressed yet)

Kinks/fetishes: biting, marking, breeding, spit, primal, spanking, mirror sex, praise, wax, shibari, choking, exhibitionism

Loves a pussy job—just sliding his cock between your folds and tapping at your clit like he’s knocking on a door until he cums all over you. Loves this for two reasons: 1) you look exquisite with your clit swollen and body spattered in cum, and 2) the banter between the two of you during a pussy job is top tier. It’s not quite degradation, but you’re both going back and forth in the most teasing way, riling each other up.

Has the biggest praise kink. He thinks he might actually die if you don’t tell him how amazing he is at least 12 times a day

Part of the pretty dick club. It’s actually perfect—thick but not too thick, long but not too long, nice veins wrapping around and well groomed at the base. Some would say it’s perfect.

Xavier

Sometimes when he’s flustered by you, his body emits a soft glow because of his evol. You notice it for the first time when you surprise him with a kiss to his cheek. He glows a little brighter the first time he kisses your lips too.

He’s fallen asleep during sex before. Usually after several rounds, he’s cum twice already, and you’re laying on your sides on the bed and he’s lazily thrusting into you from behind and all of a sudden he stops. Sheathed inside you and an arm around your waist. When you look over your shoulder, he’s sounds asleep and already softly snoring. You have no choice but to do the same, falling asleep in his arms and keeping his cock nice and warm all night

His favorite position is missionary where your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s slowly, deeply thrusting into you. He likes seeing every expression on your face, really feeling you sucking him in, hearing every breathy moan you try to hide from him. And he likes that he can kiss you whenever he wants

Likes to read at night, even though he falls asleep doing it. When you start staying nights at his place, he convinces you to read out loud to him and you do that every night until he falls asleep with his head on your chest.

Kinks/fetishes: hair pulling (he likes when you give a little tug), overstimulation, marking, cum play, face sitting, cockwarming

Loves fresh flowers and brings you new ones every week. He thinks they’re pretty and hopes you appreciate them the way he does. Sometimes he buys them or sometimes he picks them from some lush patch in the forest. Always takes some for himself so he knows when they start dying and he needs to get you new ones.

Loves to lay his head in your lap so you can play with his hair

The kind of guy who will keep his hand holding yours no matter what because he wants to make sure you’re staying beside him. Sometimes takes one of your hands and puts it in the pocket of his sweatshirt with his just so it stays warm.

Zayne

He was very opposed to fucking in the hospital at first but then on a day he was super stressed, you stopped by and sucked him off under his desk while he reviewed charts and he was able to successfully perform a surgery other doctors thought was inoperable—he was more lenient on sex in the hospital after that

Kinks/fetishes: size kink, spanking, brat taming, choking, degradative praise, impact (spanking/flogging/paddle), breeding, edging/denial, thigh riding, dirty talk

Has absolutely bent you over his knee to spank you when you’re being a brat and talking back to him all the time with no regard for your own well being. All he wants is to take care of you because you never take care of yourself. And he would take the best care of you.

Cunt smacks. No further explanation needed.

Favorite sex position is prone bone. He likes hitting it from the back because sometimes the prolonged eye contact that can come with facing each other makes him uncomfortable. But doggy style isn’t what he wants because he wants to feel your body against his, holds you as close as possible. This position works best because every inch of him is atop you and he can feel your body there beneath him, he gets to tuck his head into your neck to bite or kiss or moan into, he’s close to your ear and can whisper filthy things or tell you how close he is or how good you feel around him, and most of all, this position has him so fucking deep inside you that he swore nothing in this life felt better the first time he entered you in this way

Allergic to saying nice things to you 98% of the time.

He runs cold because of his evol and sometimes when he cums, it feels like ice inside of you. Made you scream in surprise the first time but leads to some fun temperature play where he uses his tongue to warm you up after. He’s also often cold and loves to curl up against you and tell you that you’re his heater.

#ThickDickClub

@luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps @adaurielle

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Number 4/ Klaus Hargreeves would include☂️👻:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: Brief mentions of addiction

A/N: I started Umbrella Academy a week ago and I’m obsessed, I’m almost done with season 3 and I can’t wait for season 4. I’d managed to fall in love with Robert Sheehan all over again and all that love has to go somewhere so here it is.

Waking up to little peppered kisses on your back and up your torso. If you don’t open your eyes he’ll just start blowing raspberries into your neck and on your face. Once he hears you laughing he’ll stop and flip you over. He likes being the first thing you see when you wake up. Some days are a little more peaceful and less silly, you wake to see him still asleep. A mess of curls and smudged glitter eyeshadow is the first thing you see. He’s at such peace and the most still you’ll ever see him. 

Putting makeup on each other, whether it’s going out or just playing around with new looks it doesn’t matter. Being able to experiment with new colors and combinations with each other is so much fun. On date nights you’ll pick outfits for each other, sometimes even just wearing each other’s clothes. Doing things like this with him leads to doing most things together. 

Why have him do things when you can do it for him? Or even with him? He loves having you wash his hair. Showers, baths? Of course we have to both be in there at the same time! Klaus is so touch starved any reason to spend time together he’ll take it,an added bonus is your company keeps the spirits away. 

You’re always in close proximity to each other, so your skin is always touching. Klaus just can’t get enough, physical touch becomes his middle name. He’s a natural affectionate person but just having you near is very grounding for him. 

He’ll draw on you with little glitter pens he carries in his pocket, he likes to call you his “canvas and his muse.” Even without the pens he’ll trace random shapes and words onto your arm or your back when you both lie in bed. Klaus also likes to play with your fingers when he’s bored.

Kissing!! He’s such a fiend for kissing my god, after that first kiss he’s finished. He always says he wants just one but it ends up escalating to a full on make out sesh. Doesn’t matter if you’re public or not you look too good it’d be a crime not to kiss you. Klaus doesn’t really give a damn about public embarrassment, if you wanted him to he’d run through central park naked, he would.

 Once he knows you’re ok with all the random bursts of affection he really piles it on. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, nose kisses, not one day goes by where he doesn’t kiss you. He kisses like he wants to devour you, if he wasn’t able to kiss you that’d be hell on Earth. If you’re a fan of random kisses at the most inappropriate times he’s a professional. You’re driving, he’s gonna make out with you. Out shopping, kissing! Right now! Doctor’s appointment? Kisses under your jaw in the waiting room, he can’t help it, he's bored.

Helping him get clean, you and Ben have been pretty good influences in his life. Trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for the sake of his health. He wants to be present for you, he wants to be able to remember the things you do together. You help him find fun things to do without getting drugs involved. Taking your time and being patient with him means the world to him. He loves his siblings but they aren’t the best at helping him with it. They do try a little harder when you come around seeing how serious you are about helping him. You stay awake with him when his nightmares get too bad or when the withdrawal is really wearing him down. If it’s the ghosts that are bothering him you just tell them to piss off.(he really appreciates that)

Klaus begins to teach himself new skills to help you out around the house, cooking, cleaning you name it. He doesn’t do it very well but you appreciate the effort anyway. Chores become another activity for you both to do. He’ll even indulge in some of your hobbies just for the fun of it. 

Tattoos! He gets something on his wrist that reminds him of you, he can’t wait to show you too. If you get one related to him, god forbid a little number 4 on you he’ll cry. He does eventually tell you about the rest of his journey in Vietnam and Dave. Klaus wants to be sure you know he won’t compare you to him, He’ll always love Dave but he doesn’t love you any less. He’ll get really shy if you kiss his hand tattoos, there aren’t a lot of ways to fluster him so that’s a good one. 

Being surrounded by death and destruction most of his life really makes him appreciate what you have. The way you indulge in his antics and impulses makes Klaus feel so seen. You don’t feel real to him sometimes; late at night he’ll just lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating. 

When some crazy new developments or drama happens in his family you’re first to know. Luther tells him something very personal and secret and 15 mins later he’s calling you on the mansion’s phone. 

Luther: “This stays between us Klaus I mean it…” Klaus: “Of course Lulu I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone you’re dirty little secret” A few moments later… Klaus: “Babe you’ll never believe what Luther just told me!”

He’ll always be looking at you, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing you have his full attention. Klaus will just be gazing at you lovingly while five is trying to talk to him, eventually he’ll just ignore him and go to talk to you. You're his favorite person to talk to; he never gets bored with you.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[explicit-tae]

ik it would be very out of character but i’d LOVE to see ungodly hour’s jk react to oc admitting she likes (or loves 🫣) him!! knowing him he’d cry

thank you for your amazing work !!!! ly<3

honestly let me just write about it

Ungodly Hour

Word Count: 3.413

Warning: dirty talking, oral sex (f), alcohol intake, intoxicated/unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, overstimulation, riding, love confessions,

“Okay,” Jungkook enters the living room hastily as you arrive, a gift bag in your hand. “I finally finished it.”

“You know you didn’t have to make me wait until you were done.” you tell Jungkook as you sit on the couch. “I’ve had the gift for weeks now.”

“We couldn’t exchange gifts until mine was complete.” Jungkook says.

Jungkook had insisted on waiting to exchange gifts. You knew he was making you something - he kept it hidden in an extra bedroom that he locked to assure you didn’t peek. He also refused to look at whatever gift you got him and prompted that you take it out the house so he himself would be tempted. 

“Well,” you hold out the gift bag - it’s medium sized and a sparkly blue. “Merry Christmas.”

Jungkook notes that you’re nervous as he takes the bag and he isn’t sure why. He would be happy with whatever you gave him - even if he was surprised initially that you told him you got him a gift. He would often think about what it was.

Jungkook opens the gift bag and takes out the rectangular box. He sees the bottom first - it’s a solid yellow color. He flips it around to inspect it, the rest of the sides being black. His eyes capture the name on the top of the box. His eyes widened. 

“Y/N…?”

Now Jungkook understands why you’re nervous. His eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “This camera is expensive!” he gasps. “How did you know-”

“I saw it on your wishlist.” you say, licking your lips. “When you let me borrow your laptop, you left a few tabs open.”

You weren’t going to admit that you were snooping for answers. Jungkook seemingly had everything there was to get and buying a gift for him was becoming difficult. 

Jungkook opens the box gently, his eyes softening at the camera. “You must’ve spent a lot on it…” he says, trailing off. He knows the exact price and knowing that you spent thousands on a gift for him pulls at his heart strings. “Thank you.”

You give Jungkook a smile. “I can finally quit my job now that I’ve spent a few checks on a gift.” you say, joking with Jungkook to lighten the mood. 

“You can!” Jungkook smiles back with a nod.

“Just kidding.” you sing-song. “Don’t be so gullible.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and snorts. He places the camera beside him. “Always teasing me with a good time.” he murmurs. “Now for yours.”

Jungkook had wrapped the canvas neatly. It’s a decent size, you noticed, maybe 11 inches all around. Your heart is beating with anticipation as you unwrap it.

Jungkook awaits your reaction, his own nerves hiking. “Do you…like it?” he murmurs. You haven’t said anything and instead have been analyzing the painting silently, expression unreadable.

The painting is full of life, emotion. The scenery is what you initially noted, a mountain of flowers that seemingly went on for miles by the way Jungkook had painted it. The flowers are colorful, different shades of yellow, orange and pink. The sky holds bright gray clouds, covering the sun that appears to be setting. What captures your attention fully are the hands. Both pairs of hands are connected by the pinky with one wrist sporting a gold watch and the other a bracelet while the arms are painted to appear out of the canvas frame.

“This is us.” you say aloud, glancing up at Jungkook. It was a picture you and he had taken a few weeks back. You recall telling Jungkook that it was one of your favorite pictures of the two of you together that didn’t showcase faces. 

Jungkook nods. “It is.” he agrees. “You said it was your favorite picture so I painted it.”

Your throat tightens at his words.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, you think, because this was entirely too much for you to handle. Your mother didn’t raise a weak woman who felt like she was seconds away from crying tears because of how happy she felt.

You blame it on your period that must be nearing - even if you never cry on your period. 

“Thank you.” you murmur to Jungkook, glancing away shyly to avoid his gaze. “I love it.” you say sincerely, and the admission causes Jungkook to smile.

“You’re d-drunk.” Jungkook snorted before full on laughing as you stumbled through his bedroom door.

“Fuck you.” you retort, plopping yourself down onto Jungkook’s large bed. “So are you.” you slur back.

Jungkook doesn’t deny it.

This is what happens when you drink with friends - more importantly, Jimin. It was nothing new, Jimin always insisted on going into the new year buzzed - this time, they all just went a little overboard. Luckily, Jungkook had agreed for the party to be at his apartment so he could just walk down the hall to his bedroom.

Of course, Jungkook would soon come to regret it because that meant that he would have to clean the mess they made in the morning - but you were with him, so that was a plus.

“Not as drunk as you.” Jungkook closes the door behind him, along with the loud music and laughter of everyone just down the hall in his living room. “Told you to not challenge Jimin.”

“Fuck Jimin…” you murmur to yourself, more so because Jungkook was right.

However, you wouldn’t say you challenged Jimin - he was the one who came to you with a whole cup of alcohol declaring that you were, in his words, too much of a coward to drink.

It was a complete set up, Jungkook knows this, but the only thing he could do was assure you had water and a lot of greasy food ready for when you were going to need it - and luckily he was there to do so. You’re sure you would’ve been passed out long ago.

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, an attempt to get a look at your lying figure. You and he had matched tonight - an idea that was yours. You wore a long sleeved-black dress with a deep v cut that stopped mid thigh while he wore a compressed black shirt (by your request ) and ripped jeans. 

“Do you need to throw up?” Jungkook asks, stumbling  closer to you when he hears a low moan-like whine. “I told you not to drink so-“

“Shut up,” you sit up and look directly at Jungkook. “Can I sit on your face?” 

Jungkook stops in his tracks, his doe eyes widening slightly. Yes is what he wants to say - he loves the act of pleasuring you. However, he’s unsure if he should be doing anything with you in your intoxicated state. 

“You’re drunk-“

“We’re drunk.” you correct, eyes narrowing at him - and also focusing on him all of the same because the room was still spinning. 

“True.” Jungkook murmurs to himself, trailing off. “Still, I don’t want to take advantage-“

“Save the theatrics, Kookie.” you’re already tugging your underwear off, the lacy material falling right by his bed. “Unless you…”

You don’t finish your sentence and Jungkook titls hisnhead. “What?”

“…unless you suddenly don’t like me anymore.” you whisper, and slowly, your eyes widen as if you had figured out the biggest secret. No other world conspiracy was important - not the Bermuda triangle, not whoever the fuck Jack the Ripper is or whether if Atlantis was ever real. No, not even your favorite cold cases could be as important as this new revelation of Jeon Jungkook not liking you anymore. 

“Now you’re extremely drunk .” Jungkook cackles. “Of course I like you!”

It brings Jungkookk back to when you were convincing him that you liked him, now it was the other way around. His heart swells with your drunken ramblings and overall cute appearance. 

“You don’t.” You cross your arms over your chest. “You refuse to have me sit on your face.” you say, and Jungkook realizes that he truly spoils you like everyone claims he does - you never got told no to mainly anything. 

“So who gets to sit on your face?” you ask with narrow eyes. “I bet-“

“Don’t say that girl's name.” Jungkook cuts you off before you can get started. “You know you’re my girl, Y/N.”

“So you hate me.” you deadpan, saying the words matter-of -factly. “All of a sudden you aren’t obsessed-“

“I am!” Jungkook interrupts, raising his voice. He couldn’t believe that this was a conversation that needed to be had and if he remembered this sober, it’s something he was definitely going to tease you about. 

“Hm.” you uncross your arms and stand to your feet. “I'm going to go party with Jimin.” 

Jungkook steps in front of you. “You aren’t wearing any underwear.” he states. “That and you’re already had enough to drink-“

“If you aren’t going to fuck me,” you wave your hand in his face to stop his speech. “then I’m going to go out there and drink with Jimin.”

If Jimin knew that he was the person that would be used against him it would cause ultimate chaos in the groupchat and in his friend group. 

Jungkook licks his lips. He doesn’t have time to entertain his and your friends any longer. He can only imagine how it would look if he chased after you because you wanted to be drunk and petty. The room is already spinning for him as it is for you and he knows that it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

“You’re such a bitch…” Jungkook murmurs, tone low. It’s a tone that you’re all too familiar with - and you know that you had Jungkook where you wanted him. “Get on the bed.”

You do as you’re told, laying on Jungkook’s bed and open your legs, dress hiking up entirely. 

Jungkook drops to his knees and hooks his hands beneath your thighs. You yelp when he snatches you closer to him. His lips place themselves onto your inner thigh and he presses a kiss. “I spoil you too much.”

Jungkook kisses closer and closer to your heat and he does so to tease you. “You looked so good tonight.” He couldn’t help but cave, wanting to give you whatever you wanted of him. 

Fingernails dig into your skin as Jungkook speaks against your skin. 

“You did, too.” you hitch your breath when you feel Jungkook's lips directly against your clit. 

Jungkook kisses it gently. “Thank you, baby. So needy.”

Your back arches when you feel it, wet tongue sliding directly up your clit. He dips it between your folds, holding you directly still so he can pleasure you like you desperately wanted him to. 

Eyes flickering up, Jungkook grunts. So beautiful, he always thinks of you. You couldn’t help but grow spoiled because he never told you no for anything. However, it wasn’t something he could help - you don’t ask for much to begin with.

The room continues to spin, but you no longer care. Your body erupts with arousal and it clouds your being entirely. You should’ve never drunk as much as you did, but there was no taking back the past. Besides, you cannot remember being filled with lust when you would drink prior - you’re unsure why you appear so insatiable.

“Feels so good, Kookie.” you moan, hips buckling against the rhythm of his tongue. The top half of the dress constricts your body entirely and you cannot wait until you can get out of it. “So, so good.”

Jungkook's eyes are as dark as can be and he’s positive he is a man starved right now. The alcohol runs through his system and causes his movement to be sloppy, but capable. His tongue completely savors your arousal, suckling on your clit to dipping between your folds and now, plunging it inside of you entirely.

“You must want me to fuck you.” Jungkook disclosed. “Your pussy’s clenching around nothing.”

How correct Jungkook was and you’re far from sober, so there was no snarky remark for you to retort with. You were beyond your regular self - you weren’t going to deny anything because you truly, desperately wanted Jungkook.

Your sober self would surely be screaming at you when your intoxication wore off.

Jungkook would lean back a bit every few minutes, his lips and chin fully coated in you. His tongue would still be flicking against your swollen clit and he’s truly doing this as an act to tease you further. He likes when your breath - that you’d be holding - would release when he gave you a bit of a teasing break, all before he devoured you once more.

“Kookie,” you moan Jungkook’s name so lovingly - it’s hard not to want to be between your legs for hours. His hand is bruising the skin of your thigh to hold you against his tongue. “wanna cum.”

Jungkook’s eyes stare into yours, a silent telepathic moment that tells you that he wasn’t stopping you from cumming. But he is also not a fool when it comes to you or your body and soon, you feel your pussy - so greedy to be stuffed and full - stretched out with his fingers.

Jungkook loves your whimpering and moaning - more so when you don’t hide them from his ears. There’s a party right outside his door where people are all huddling to celebrate the new year, and here the two of you were forgetting about them entirely. 

Jungkook plunges his fingers deep inside of you. He hits the familiar sweet spot he knows so well, your thighs quivering in the process. His tongue licks circles around your clit, fingerings thrusting rhythmically. Your moans bounces off the walls and louder than the muffled music in the background.

Jungkook doesn’t mind when your hands grip his hair tightly because he just knows that you’re going through it - and he has no intention of stopping until you’re cumming on his tongue. It’s close, he notes, the way your walls are clenching around his fingers greedily and your cries grow louder and louder in contrast to the way your fingers grips into his hair.

Jungkook allows you to ride against your own high, laying his tongue flat against your clit and allowing you to grind against his tongue, fingers plunging deep inside of you. Your high comes hard, body twitching and Jungkook allows it all to happen, determined to make sure you are satisfied completely before he stops.

You feel dizzy when your high slowly comes down, your forehead lined with sweat and your body completely flushed. Your body molds itself against Jungkook’s soft sheets, your breathing slowing down.

“Where are you going…?” you ask Jungkook when you no longer feel his presence before you. Your eyes flutter open. 

“Nowhere.” Jungkook responds sincerely. “We should get you out of this dress for bed-”

“Bed?” your senses peak and you jolt upright, eyes narrowed once more. “I want to ride you first.”

Jungkook snorts and stumbles back a bit at your sudden action. “You’ve already came so hard, baby. Are you sure-”

You aren’t listening to Jungkook in the slightest. You’re tugging the dress off of you entirely and getting naked right before his eyes. 

Jungkook is but a man and there isn’t much convincing he needs - especially not when you’re tugging him towards you needily. You connect your lips to his while pushing him against the bed. Jungkook loves how needy you are - how much you express that you want him. Of course, he knows that you do any other time - but this time it’s different; getting to witness just how much you want him is a feeling he never knew he craved.

Your fingernails dig into Jungkook’s clothed shoulders as you slowly feel him inside of you. You push him backwards so that he’s laying on the bed, your hips rising and falling.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, hands firmly on your hips. You’re going so fast, fully determined to cum once more - and Jungkook couldn’t be upset. Your face displays just how good you felt in this moment. “your pussy feels so good, baby.”

Your pussy clenches around Jungkook as if responding to his words. By the time the pair of you were done, you were going to be bruised entirely with Jungkook’s hand marks. 

Jungkook finds it hard to look at you - not when you looked so completely fucked out and beautiful. He’s unsure where your stamina appeared - maybe you were just that fucked out and drunk; that you didn’t care that you were overstimulating yourself (and him). 

Jungkook clenches his eyes shut to get the image of you out of his head, but all it does is follow him in his thoughts. Your naked figure using him to pleasure yourself, your bouncing breast to your creaming pussy dripping all over him and making a complete mess.

Jungkook is so hot - so beautiful himself. He’s hissing to himself with clenched eyes, experiencing pure bliss just as you were. His forehead is covered in sweat and a few strands of hair are sticking to it. 

Jungkook feels a hand upon his cheek and his eyes open. They're so dark and full of lust - similar to your own. Your eyes connect to his and Jungkook swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Drunk Y/N is so needy.” Jungkook jokes, voice deep and raspy. “Drunk actions are sober intentions.”

Jungkook begins to thrust upwards, matching your rhythm. His thrusts are brutal, fully determined to satiate your hunger for him. His eyes never leave yours, the pair of you stuck in an intimate, lust-filled moment.

“I-I’m gonna cum again!” you mewl, breaking eye-contact first to shut them tight. The familiar sensation bubbles into you again and Jungkook only fucks into you harder, pounding with all his might; how the both of you could be drunk and full of stamina is beyond him.

Your walls are squeezing around Jungkook and within seconds, your juices squirt around Jungkook entirely, fully coating his abdomen. “I-I-” Your body is twitching, your head pushed back when Jungkook hears your words. “I love you.”

Jungkook is still for a moment, completely silent. He’s contemplating if he heard you correctly and before he can speak, you repeat yourself. “I love you.” it’s low and a bit slurred, but Jungkook hears it entirely.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook laughs it off, cheeks flushed and heart beating out his chest. He doesn’t want to call you a liar - you wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. However, you’re drunk and maybe you meant to say you loved the way he was fucking you -

“Shut up,” you say, walls tightening on Jungkook’s cock. “I do love you.”

You yelp when you feel your back hit the soft mattress, all without Jungkook removing himself from inside of you. The room continues to spin for you two, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. 

“You’re going to forget you said that.” Jungkook begins to thrust, holding you close in his embrace. “Gonna deny it until the end of time.”

“I love you.” you repeat and Jungkook’s pounding only increases. Skin slapping echoes off the wall and the two of you are so entranced in the moment that neither of you notice the music dying down outside the room. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Jungkook whimpers with a shake of his head. His thoughts are consumed by your words - the love confession. 

Jungkook could never get tired of hearing it and at this moment, you don’t get tired of saying it. You repeat it over and over again as Jungkook continues to fuck inside of you. You’re creaming his cock, a white ring forming around the shaft and Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you.

I love you.

I love you.

You love him, Jungkook’s thrilled at the revelation. His head drops back as his body tenses up, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Say it again, baby.” he pleads with a choked whimper. He needed to hear you say it again, as selfish as it was - he’s unsure how long it’d be before he could hear it again.

“Fuck,” your pussy is seeping with arousal and staining his sheets, your clit swollen and pulsing. “I love you, Kookie.”“Oh, shit…I love you, too, baby.” Jungkook continues to stretch your pussy completely until he’s shooting hot cum directly inside of you, a hand directly on your stomach as he does so. He’s panting, the both of you covered in sweat and bodily fluids.

[yanderemommabean]

Am I the only one who needs to be strapped down by the wrists and ate out against my will by alpha elias while I struggle to not show how good everything feels and beg for him to stop despite my arching body telling him the opposite?

Bonus if he flips darling over, jerks their hips upwards and sets a teasing pace with one hand pushing their upper body down so they can’t do anything but arch backwards into him and grip the sheets for dear life. All the while licking a stripe up their neck before burying his teeth into their nape to mark them, growling possessively when they refuse to moan for him, digging deeper and thrusting into them harder until they whimper in submission.

Bonus Bonus if it’s Doc Lee’s butterfly and he’s made to watch, threatening to cum inside them if he looks away.

((Female reader! Hope you beans can enjoy!))

“You’re so cute when you try to fight this” The deranged man murmurs against your skin, ice once again filling your veins as his fingers come to clutch at your thighs to spread them apart, massaging the meat and fat of them as he soaks in the sight of you, bare and open, ready for him to gorge himself on.

“The fact no one has kissed every scar and told you they were beautiful paint strokes on your canvas, shows me there’s truly less hope for humanity than I thought” Elias praises as his fingers begin to trace up and down your hips and the apex of your thighs. “Every pretty vein, every mark and mole, every scar from small to large deserves to be savored and kissed. You’re a beautiful soul who does nothing but give and give and give” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss to the top of your mound. “Such battle scars. Gorgeous even if they came from a time of hideous treatment to you”.

You feel his warm breath against you while your bindings only tighten, holding you still as the maniac worships you, praises you like you’re truly a relic or a god, as if He truly believed you gave him a purpose. You were ashamed of how your breath was stolen from you, his nimble fingers hardly touching you yet bringing out such pleasure, even when in such a state of panic.

“I know you say you don’t want this, that you only have feelings for that rat of a doctor…But I know he’s just simply brainwashed you. He doesn’t know how to treat you, hoards you like an object rather than spoil you like a lover”.

You spit something out to him, but the gag in your mouth doesn’t allow it to truly be heard. It's just more amusement for the psycho as you tremble and hiss like a terrified cat. How absolutely precious. Elias just grins, wicked and wild as he helps turn your head to face the right of you, where in the corner of the room, Lee had been bound and gagged as well, anger clear in his eyes and features as he venomously spews words that are muffled and garbled.

Elias just kisses down your bare body once again, amused and gleeful as the doctor struggles. “Oh don't tell me you thought this was a private show? Tsk tsk tsk then how would that doctor learn his lesson? No no my dear, he’s going to watch, and you are going to be good and put on a good show. I’d hate to have to take his fingers or pull his teeth, but if you insist on misbehaving…I can give it a shot”.

Oh god he was serious. Lee wouldn’t ever be caught, not by someone so easily. But again, Elias isn’t just anyone. He’s at this facility for a reason. His hand comes to cup your warmth, slowly letting his fingers spread your lips so he could feel the dewy skin, shuddering as he breathes in your scent. “Don't be too in your own head, lovely. Just relax, let me take care of everything else. Lee will be fine, if he can behave. Don't worry your cute little head about it”.

You whimper at that, his fingers sliding up your folds to toy with your clit, his eyes molten and hot as they watched you writhe and gasp from just a few quick circles being rubbed. Cute. You must really be pent up if that's all that gets you going. Not that he minds, mind you. Sensitivity just means more fun for him.

“Good. So good for me. Look at you, arching into my touch already. I haven’t even done anything” he muses, sliding his body back down until your legs were once again around his head, not that they had much of a choice. He hears Lees grunts and muffled vulgarity, but pays it no mind as he drags his tongue up from your fluttering hole to your twitching clit, greedily sucking the bud while his shoulders relax.

Yes. This is exactly where he needs to be. Between your thighs while you use his face, make him your little toy to use and throw away when you’re done. But of course, Lee had to try and take that luxury away from him too. If he had it his way, well, you’d be doing a lot more room visits for him that’s for sure. He doesn't mind following the majority of rules in this place, but he draws the fucking line at Lee trying to take you away from him.

Listening to your moans and whimpers as his tongue happily laps away, it almost makes him forget that the doctor is in here, watching as he drinks your ambrosia. He almost hates that he’s here, listening to you, but having him just an arms reach away and unable to take you, it gave him a wicked feeling of amusement.

His soft petal lips suck on your folds, moving to suck on your little bud aggressively as you gasp and try to kick, the pleasure shooting up your spine being too much and making you go taut, before once again relaxing as he holds your legs still and drags his tongue through your wetness again and again like a thirsty animal, drool covering his chin as he loses himself and tries to show your body just how much he loves you, loves your smell, your warmth, your taste- everything about you was mouth watering.

You have fresh tears dripping down your beautiful face when his viper like eyes stare back up at you, and his cock only throbs harder. He loves sending you to such planes of bliss that it’s too much to handle. So much love that you can’t fathom, so you cry. Every time you climax, it’s a sign of how much you love each other, right? That has to be why your pretty eyes are so wet and weary. You just feel so much love, you don't know what to do.

Don’t worry. He knows exactly what you need.

His hands grip your legs more firmly, lifting them up so they rested on his shoulders as he completely loses himself in you, giving you no reprieve or break as his mouth gets to work, slurping, sucking, licking and swirling right where you need it to, bringing you to the edge and not just tipping you over- with how strong it felt you might as well have been launched off, your body arching and shaking as Elias still, rather obscenely, eats you out, helping you ride through the orgasm as he continues drinking you down and savoring you on his tongue.

It’s wet, his face is covered, sweat drool and your essence is dripping down his face as he pulls away to lick his lips, chuckling darkly as he rubs up and down your legs that were still shaking on his shoulders. “Did that feel good? You came so hard baby, looked so beautiful, so sexy. Just a few more and I think it’ll shake that stage fright, don't you? Then we can really show that doctor over there how your body should be worshiped”.

(Hey! engage in some way if you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought! Comments show I'm doing good, or what I can improve on :3 Thanks for reading! -Mommabean )

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissy kissy, a little tinsy bit angsty, flirtatious banter, they're going through it in their own ways.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11

------------------

You painted small calculated strokes of warm blues and vibrant pinks. No design or carefully articulated picture simply two beautiful contrast colors dancing around each other. You keep on at this for what feels like minutes but ends up being hours. As you mix the two colors in the corner of the canvas and watch the purple hue they create, the sun also greets the ceiling in John's room. It startles you at first then you realize at least you made it through the night. You sit back yawning quietly, your eyes finding their way to John's sleeping form.

“I can feel it when you stare.” you smile softly, something that comes naturally at the sound of his voice.

“That's why I do it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning on his back before reaching to prop a pillow up behind his head.

“Yeah.” he admires through his sleepy gaze. You look sad, it fucking kills him. His head then turns further to the left to catch a glimpse of your work.

“Looks nice, just color though?” he asks in a whisper.

“Yeah I don't know, it just felt right.” you shrug, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Come ere’” he says, reaching out to you and lifting the covers.

You stand carefully placing the brushes and pallet onto the floor furthest from the bed before crawling in beside him. He smells of sleep and john. It's a heavenly scent, something close to pheromones it draws you in so close that you want to crawl inside his skin.

“You know i’ll miss you just as much, I fear even more actually.” he rubs a comforting hand over your back as his deep voice reverberates in his chest.

“Impossible.” you muster up trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Only impossible thing is making this easy,” he admits. He feels the stutter in your breath as you try to keep yourself from crying. This is scary, scarier than eight guns being pointed at his chest and head. Death doesn't scare John Price, hurting you does.

“When I return we should go on a vacation somewhere on the coast.” 

“We should.” you look up at him and his too perfect lips and too perfect nose and eyes. 

“Don't look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” you say in an innocent tone.

“Like you’re trying to tell me you’ll be my destruction.” you laugh, laying your head on his chest hearing the quick pace of his heart beat.

“You should rest your eyes for a little.” he says worried about the fact that you slept for less than four hours last night.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Always.” he says, running his thick fingers through your hair and down your back. His ways of comforting you are more physical he thinks he knows how to use his body more than his words so he smooths the wrinkles in your bedtime shirt as in to say ‘i’m here for you’ and he swipes the hair out of your face to say ‘don’t worry your pretty head’ and squeezes your bum to say ‘i’m a man of morals, but still a man’.

—------

“Wake up love.” John says softly into your hair before leaving a kiss on your forehead. You groan in annoyance and feel the smile that now rests on his lips.

“What? it's nearly noon and your phone is buzzing in the kitchen.” your eyes slowly open as you flip to face the opposite way.

“How can you even hear that?” you say in a groggy tone.

“I’m not that old.” you laugh smacking at the hand that squeezes your hip.

“You know that's not what I meant.” you say sitting up slowly stretching as your arms rise to the ceiling. 

“You’re unbelievably gorgeous, how’d I get so lucky?” you turn your head to look at him, a rosy blush on your cheeks.

“Oh stop being such a flirt.” you say getting up from the bed and heading out of the room.

“So you just leave me here.” he slightly shouts from the bed. He hears your footsteps halt and turn around. You walk back into the room giving him a quick kiss then pulling him up with all your might.

“There you go.” he says standing on his feet.

“I forgot you need assistance to get out of bed.” he laughs from deep within his chest pulling you back against his front to kiss at your neck. You two walk down the hallway, he stops in the kitchen and you leave to go search for your phone in the living area.

“Aha here it is.” you say holding the small device up in victory. It strikes his heart here and now that in less than another twenty four hours his morning will look nothing like this and the sound of your laugh will be mere motivation.

You make your way back to him dialing back the call from this morning which to no one's surprise is your sister. You gleefully sing a goodmorning into the phone knowing full well that it's the afternoon.

He starts the coffee pot before giving you another quick kiss and heading into his office. It's only then he lets a tear slip, a foolish show of weak emotion, but it just happens to be from the strongest feeling he has ever encountered, love.

Its soul gripping and head spinning. It makes his heart mush, you make his heart mush yet his will strong. You’re a distraction but one he gladly invites into his already busy mind. You poke and prod at a military machine, you’re everything he’s prayed for and more than he ever expected. You even scare him.

“John?” you knock for the fifth time a little concerned.

“Yes darling, come in.” he says quickly, clearing his voice.

“Are you okay?” you ask, holding a warm cup of coffee.

“Yes, just thinking.” you set it softly on the coaster you had given him when you realized the water stains popping up all over the surface.

“Thankyou.” you nod, reaching your hand out to cup his chin. You give him a slow soft kiss, one on the lips then one to his cheek before leaving.

You’ve noticed when he works he tends to be more serious and quiet therefore you don't think too much but that doesn't mean it's not resting in the back of your mind. You shut the door softly and go on about your day.

—-------

just a glimpse into their relationship before John departs.

i've missed you guys terribly sorry for my long absence<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Martha Jones spots The Fourteenth Doctor around London doing a mundane thing like food shopping. Thank you :)

At first, Martha wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise him; she’d know that hair and that side profile anywhere, even if he was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of the long coat she’d been so used to. He was holding a jar of jam, reading the ingredients with bright interest, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be in Tesco Express at ten o’clock on a Thursday night shopping for preserves; the basket beside him contained further mundanities like bread and milk, and she was so baffled by all of this that she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. He was a Time Lord, for god’s sake; he didn’t do dull things like buy pints of semi-skimmed milk or reduced Kingsmill white loaves.

But then he turned away from the shelf, sticking the jar in his basket, and the look on his face took her breath away. For several seconds she surveyed him as he continued to be unaware of her presence, and she tried to put her finger on what had changed. It was the eyes, she thought; there had been so many ghosts behind them when she’d first known him, and now he looked almost… well, serene. Calm. There were no spectres weighing heavily on his shoulders; there was no lingering pain in the easy, contented expression on his face as he scooped up his basket from his feet – still clad in Converse, because some things could never change – and then finally caught sight of her.

“Oh,” he said, the syllable hanging in the air between them for a moment, and she couldn’t read it; was he pleased to see her? Angry? Sad? Guilty? Was he about to cut and run? Then he beamed from ear to ear, really sincerely beamed, and held out his arms to her for – no, that couldn’t be right. He wanted a hug? Since when had he been a hugger? “Martha Jones!”

“Doctor,” she said reservedly, looking him up and down; he was older than he’d been since she last saw him, but all of the tension and impatient anxiety that he’d held within him seemed to have dissipated in the interceding years. Questions crowded her mind; questions about time and space and clothes and the air of contentment and – “Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?”

“Oh,” he said again, with dawning comprehension. “We’re out of bread.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Oh,” he repeated for a third time, then ran a hand through his hair before chancing a glance at the checkouts, and for one awful moment she thought he might be about to bolt. “It’s sort of a long story, actually. Why don’t we pay and find a pub, or something? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be… is Mickey expecting you?”

“He can wait,” she said with amusement, irrationally touched that he’d remembered. “Yeah, alright. Let’s pay.”

“Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?” he enquired, flipping the question back on her with some of the old cheekiness that she was used to. “That’s the real question.”

“Staying with mum for a few weeks while we have the kitchen redone,” she told him as they headed towards the self-checkouts; she started scanning her items while he did the same at an adjacent terminal, and she half expected him to sonic it, or in some way cheat it – space cubes, or god knows what else – but instead he took out an honest-to-god wallet and tapped a perfectly normal credit card on the reader. Her surprise must have shown, because he shot her a sidelong grin as he bundled up his groceries in a canvas tote bag and hefted it onto his shoulder as she swiped her Clubcard and did the same.

“Bit different to the old days, isn’t it?” he said ruefully, and she laughed.

“Yeah, never had you down as a wallet sort of man.”

“It was a present. I lost my last four credit cards.”

“That sounds more like you.”

[shadowdaddies]

With Her Own Wings

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's mate wishes that she could have wings like his, and goes to dangerous lengths to acquire them.

Based on this ask.💜

A/N: I had TOO much fun with this. One of my favorite fics I’ve written

warnings: kinda spooky, mentions of blood, allusions to sex

Azriel’s fingers laced through yours as the pair of you lazed through the quiet evening streets of Velaris. A sparrow soared across the watercolor horizon like a paintbrush against the canvas sky.

Azriel tracked your gaze, noting how it followed the bird. A small smile graced his lips, hazel eyes twinkling in the setting sun as his wings twitched behind him. 

“I wish you knew what it feels like,” Azriel sighed, his eyes out of focus, as though he were imagining flying high above the city, rather than walking through it with you. It was a conversation you’d had repeatedly, his words echoing through your mind every time he took to the skies - how inadequate you were, bound to the ground. 

Guilt panged your chest as you watched Azriel, his heart racing within his own chest at the mere thought of flying. But he was tied to a wingless mate. You were someone who brought him into your own cage instead of setting him free. 

“You should go,” you nodded towards the warm-hued clouds in the distance. “Enjoy an evening flight. I can walk home,” you forced yourself to say, flashing him a practiced smile.

Azriel’s eyes lit up, wings flaring in reaction before he looked to you. His smile disappeared, wrenching your heart as his expression turned sympathetic. “No, love. I won’t leave you,” he whispered, his disappointment clear. “You could come with me. You know I like to fly with you in my arms as well,” he offered.

The ache in your chest was unbearable at this point. You knew Azriel loved to fly by himself, testing how fast he could soar, flipping and diving through the wind. All the things that made him feel free, at peace. All the things he couldn’t do with you in his arms. 

Knowing that Azriel meant what he said - he wouldn’t leave you - you agreed to let him fly you up to the house. The air was crisp up high, the wind against your cheeks clearing your head of the worries it held. You sighed, sending a childish wish to the Mother that you too could fly, one day.

Azriel arose early the next day, waking you with a kiss goodbye as he set off for a mission. You laid in bed, watching his wings spread wide before jumping from the balcony, your heart straining as you watched your mate diminish into a spot on the horizon.

Thoughts began to spiral, and you kicked off the covers with an irritated huff as you forced yourself from bed, forced yourself from journeying further into your self-loathing. Trudging down the stairs, you turned into the kitchen to find an amused Cassian studying you.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted, raising his cup to you in a mock-toast. Flipping him off, you pulled out a chair at the table, burying your head in your hands, feeling the press of your palms against your closed eyelids.

Cassian softened at your display, setting down his cup as he reached a hand, gently pulling your arm away. “What’s wrong? Tell me how I can help.”

Cassian’s hazel gaze was so genuinely tender, you felt the burden slightly lift as you looked at your friend. A wry chuckle left your lips, and you sighed, leaning back against the chair. “It’s nothing, Cass. Nothing to be done... Unless you know of a good wizard around here.”

His head tilted slightly, brows raised at your strange comment, but Cassian decided not to pry, instead going along with the joke. “Mmm, no wizards I’m afraid. If it’s a potion you’re looking for, maybe try the Weaver’s Cottage. I went in there with Az once now that it’s empty...”

The general’s head turned to see the intrigue on your face, suddenly alight with interest. “No,” he scolded, pointing a finger at you. “I know that look. I’m serious, don’t go there. That place has a darkness that will never go away,” he muttered, a shudder working through him at the recollection.

You rolled your eyes, giving your best effort at nonchalance as you scoffed. “Cass, I wouldn’t dream of it. I just wanted to hear more about what scared the might Lord of Bloodshed. Good to keep in mind,” you teased with a wink. 

That appeared to satisfy Cassian, the male returning the gesture you’d given him earlier. Your friend mussed your hair, muttering about Azriel leaving him alone for training as he left you sitting at the counter, devious ideas eddying in your mind. With a smirk, you hopped up from your chair, headed upstairs to get dressed. 

An hour later, you’d winnowed your way to the forest’s edge, a shallow tree line separating you from the clearing where the Weaver’s Cottage stood. Smoke no longer rose from the chimney and no light shone in the window. The dust and cobwebs weren’t new, but you slipped on your gloves, nose scrunched as you brushed away the silken strands that webbed the front porch steps. 

Looking down, you watched the cobwebs shake from your hand, falling to the dusty deck when the door creaked open. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you watched the door slowly open for you, a light flickering on across the room.

Swallowing thickly, you crept forward, breaths shallow as you crossed the threshold. Floorboards creaked beneath you, dust flying as a rat scurried across the top of your boots. With a squeal, you jumped back towards the door just to feel it close behind you.

The light on the far side of the room grew brighter, cluttered artifacts coming into view. 

“So skittish for one that hopes to learn to fly,” a silken voice sounded from the dark. As your eyes adjusted to the lack of light, you saw the blurry outline of a female, the edges of her form hazy and semi-translucent. 

Keeping a hand on the dagger sheathed at your thigh, you crossed further into the room, curiosity winning over your better senses at the sight of spell books and herbs lining her table. “Who are you?” you questioned, voice wavering more than you would have liked.

A cackle left her lips, the young woman twirling long black hair through her iridescent fingertips. “There’s that boldness I was expecting. You aught to be more careful dearest, about entering someone’s home uninvited. They say that curiosity killed the cat - imagine what it would do to a little bird like you.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as the realization dawned on you. This witch knew that you were coming, and she had prepared for you. “I didn’t expect anyone to live here. I had been told the home was empty,” you admitted, hoping to quell any offense she might have taken to your invasion.

A scratchy hum sounded from her chest, amusement flickering in green glowing eyes as you shifted on your feet. “It clearly is not empty,” she drawled, moving her hands in a flourish as she gestured to the hoards of both trinkets and treasure that enveloped the space. “I do hope that you don’t rush into all of your decisions the way you rushed in here, dearest, or you may not like what the future holds.”

You opened your mouth to ask her to elaborate when she stood abruptly, gliding across the floor to the table laden with books and herbs, and one singular vial of liquid that she held in her long, nimble fingers. You could see the purple potion through her hand, its contents shimmering in the dim light, drawing you closer. 

“Ah, ah,” she crooned at you, lips spreading into a wide, wicked smile that revealed rotted teeth. Just as your gaze flicked to the bone, it turned to a pearly white, as dazzling and unsettling as the rest of her appearance. “Such a foolish girl. So easily drawn to the potion she seeks. But have you not considered the price to pay?”

Your mouth was watering, vision only able to focus on the vial in her hands. You barely processed her words, eyes still glued to the bottle as you murmured, “a payment? What do you want?”

You didn’t see the sly grin of the witch, a spider who’d caught a fly in her web. “What will I take? I would just like a little lock of your hair. As for what the wings will take, it matters what you are willing to give.”

You didn’t hesitate, dazed as the potion swirled in front of you. Thirsty, you were so thirsty. “I will give whatever it takes to make my mate happy,” you breathed. 

“Very well then,” she snapped, handing you the vial. Her cold arm swept through your skin, sending a chill down your spine as she pulled away. You heard a snip as she cut your hair, and you eagerly uncorked the vial, downing the contents in one go.

The moment you finished drinking, clarity returned to your senses. That was too easy. What could she want from you, truly? You turned to ask, but words couldn’t form in your mouth, vision began to fade as colors grew more vibrant. The witch leaned in, ice-cold hands tucking a parchment into your palm.

“To give you a fighting chance. Go now, pet. You don’t have long,” she whispered, a high-pitched cackle echoing in your mind as you stumbled towards the door. You fell to your knees, crawling on weak limbs towards the entrance. “Oh, little bird. So naive,” she cooed, just as the door burst open.

The light burned your eyes, the outline of an Illyrian standing tall in the doorway the last thing that you saw, cedar the last that you smelled before you awoke again.

Eyes fluttered open to find yourself in your room, Azriel hunched in a chair next to you as he pored over a parchment in his hand. A shadow curled his ear, and hazel eyes flicked to you.

“My head hurts,” you grumbled, hand reaching up to try to stop the pounding against your skull. 

“You are lucky that’s all that hurts,” Azriel said, hurt of his own flashing across his expression.

“You are mad.” You stated. It felt dumb to say, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “You look very handsome, even when you are angry. I love you and I don’t want you to be mad.” The words continued to spew, Azriel’s expression changing from shocked to appraising as you spoke.

He looked down at the parchment. “I guess that is the truth part,” he sighed, running a hand through his onyx waves.

“What truth part? What are you reading? I want to see it. I don’t like when you keep things from me,” you babbled.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his hands clenching at your words. “You don’t like it when I keep things from you? What the Hel is this?” He thrust the parchment at you, and you read:

The wings that you seek will be yours to keep,

But beware as follows, for nothing comes free:

For one to paint the sky as the winged might fly,

From them new colors will bloom like a light in fog’s gloom.

To truly grow wings, be true to oneself.

Truths may be drawn easily, like books from a shelf.

If one wishes to fly, they shall see from bird’s eye.

But prepare for a scare as you float through the air.

So long as one can endure the challenges that be,

Their wings shall grow freely, they will branch like a tree.

Your cheeks turned red, memories from the cottage flooding back to you. 

“Well, what is it?” Azriel demanded.

You bit your tongue until the metallic taste of blood coated your mouth, but the words forced their way out. “I want wings. Cassian said the Weaver might have something to help and I knew that it was stupid but I went and then this witch gave me a potion to help me grow wings. Please don’t be mad, I can’t bear upsetting you anymore,” you pled, salty tears falling down your cheeks.

Azriel’s featured softened, a scarred hand coming to cup your face as he kissed the tears away. “Hey, my love. It’s alright. I am glad that you are safe. But why would you do this? Why do you want wings?” 

You sniffled, holding his hand against your cheek as you leaned into his comforting warmth. “I see how disappointed you are, that I can’t fly with you. I see how happy you are when you are flying. You always said that you wish I knew what it feels like, and I’m tired, Azriel. Tired of weighing you down. I want to lift you up,” you admitted, the corners of your eyes stinging from crying.

“You do not bring me down. You keep me grounded. And you lift me to new heights - you challenge me in new ways, you bring me more joy than I have ever felt. You are perfect as you are,” Azriel promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sighed, looking down at the parchment as you noticed your skin begin to change color, turning a ghostly white. “Well, as I am seems to be changing, so I hope you mean that,” you said, holding up your hand to show Azriel as the skin turned as translucent as the witch’s. 

Starting at your fingertips, the skin turned pink, then orange, followed by yellow and purple. It was as though the sky was being painted across your body, your skin turning watercolor shades of sunset. 

You turned to Azriel in horror, only to see him biting back laughter. At his expression, you couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on your lips, and Azriel followed it belly-aching laughter, bent over the bed as he turned red in the face.

“Well, that would be the ‘For one to paint the sky as the winged might fly, from them new colors will bloom like a light in fog’s gloom’ it seems. Very pretty, I must say,” he purred, bringing your purple hand to his lips as he pressed hot kisses to your skin. 

“Oh Cauldron, what else will that witch put me through?” you huffed out loud, collapsing back onto the pillows. Something jabbed your shoulders, and you hissed as you turned to the mattress to find the offender, but nothing was there. 

You took in Azriel’s expression. His jaw hung open, the Illyrian warrior frozen in shock as he stared at you. Finally, he brought a hand to your back, and you gasped at the feeling. He was touching you, but it felt like something attached to your shoulder, sensitive as his fingers traced it before stopping at the fabric of your nightgown.

“Az, is it...?” you couldn’t manage the words. Azriel simply nodded, too stunned to speak. “I guess I’m growing wings,” you said, and you couldn’t stop the excited giggle that escaped you at the proclamation. 

Your mate gave you a soft smile, hazel eyes twinkling in appreciation of your joy. Your stomach rumbled, skin changing back to its normal hue as you swung your legs over the side of the bed.

“Let’s go get you some food,” Azriel murmured, draping an arm around your waist as you ventured down to the kitchen. No sooner had you sat down than Cassian stumbled through the door, gaping at the wings growing on your back. 

“Oh my gods, you did it,” he breathed. His brow furrowed, mouth turned down as he practically ran towards you. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “You are okay, right?” 

You bit your lip, turning to Azriel who was still laughing as he focused his attention on the stove. “It seems as though the worst has pass-“ 

No sooner had the words left your lips than you began to ascend in the air. Like a puppet on a string, you were pulled up by an invisible force as you looked down at Cassian and Azriel from where you were caught against the ceiling.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Cassian murmured, the smirk on his lips disappearing as Azriel smacked the back of his head. You looked down, panicking as you yanked the fabric of your nightgown to cover as much as you were able.

Azriel groaned, removing his shirt as he tossed it up to you, the clothing longer than your dress when you put it on. 

“We forgot about the ‘If one wishes to fly, they shall see from bird’s eye. But prepare for a scare as you float through the air.’” Azriel mumbled, rubbing his temples as he and Cassian looked up at you. 

“How are you going to make that work for dinner and drinks at Rita’s later?” Cassian mused, arching a smug brow at you.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you realized that tonight was family dinner, and you were going to Rita’s to celebrate Mor and Emerie’s anniversary. “It shouldn’t last that long,” Azriel answered resolutely, drawing you from your thoughts.

You nodded down at him in agreement, some relief washing over you as you realized that you still had hours until you needed to leave. 

“Do you think you could help me get down from here?” You asked, groaning as your head thunked against the ceiling for the third time.

“I have an idea,” Cassian muttered, turning on his heel as he went back through the door towards the training ring. He returned moments later, rope in hand, as he tossed an end up to you. “Tie that to your ankle,” he instructed you. You followed his orders, letting out a surprised yelp when he tugged you back down to where you were almost to the ground. 

The general bent down, looping the rope around Azriel’s ankle when Az stopped him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“If I tie your ankles together, then she won’t float away,” Cassian answered, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Azriel sighed, waving his hand resignedly for Cassian to continue.

The half of your body that was tied to Azriel remained grounded, the other half slipping upwards consistently, awkwardly pushing you into your mate’s body. 

“We can make this work for a little while, right?” you looked to Azriel.

A small laugh left him, the shadowsinger shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to yours. “Like I said, I am with you. No matter what color you are, or how much you try to float away.” 

Hours passed, Azriel sitting with his legs crossed awkwardly on top of yours to keep you seated on the couch. Your back itched and ached from the wings that were growing shockingly quickly, the size of an Illyrian child’s at this point. 

Azriel looked pointedly at you, saying the words you knew were coming. “We have to get ready for dinner.”

Half an hour later, you found yourself hobbling down the streets of Velaris, ankle bound to Azriel’s as Cassian snickered at your other side, holding you down. 

“This is humiliating,” you grumbled, your fledgling wings twitching in anger behind you as the Illyrians kept you looped through their arms. 

“I think the punishment fits the crime,” Cassian retorted breezily, wincing as your elbow met his ribs. 

“I didn’t commit any crime,” Azriel muttered, his cheeks turning bright red as you arrived in front of the restaurant. The rest of your family was already seated, their faces in various stages of shock and amusement as they took in the sight before them. 

“What the Hel did you do, girl?” Amren questioned, sipping her wine as she eyed the wings on your back. You told them the embarrassing tale, knowing that you would never live this down, but had already concluded that this was worth it.

Azriel held you tight, his body pressed firmly against yours as you danced at Rita’s. Through the evening, he discovered the preferred way of keeping you grounded was by holding you flush to his chest, which the two of you had fun with when you got home that night.

You woke the next morning with Azriel’s wing draped across you, and you smiled before opening your eyes to see Azriel was asleep on the other side of the bed, his wings draped across himself. You startled, gasping as you sat up in bed, a slight new weight on your back sending you flopping into the mattress.

Azriel mumbled sleepily as he awoke, rubbing his eyes as he turned to you. Your mate choked on his words, eyes bulging as he took in the sight of your wings, larger than his as they spanned the entire length of the bed. 

“Oh, my gods,” he gasped, his hand instinctively reaching out to feel the thin membrane that was now apart of you. 

A small gasp left your lips, followed by a moan at the pleasurable feeling. “Cauldron, I know why you wished I had these now,” you whispered, dizzy from pleasure as you grinned up at Azriel.

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good morning. How do some flying lessons sound?”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Make the Wall

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader | fluff | 0.8k+ words (blurb)

A/N: I found another forgotten Dalton blurb. I hope you enjoy!

“Stop fidgeting,” Dalton commands, not looking up from his sketch pad.

“You’re making me nervous,” you respond.

Dalton stills his pencil, glancing up at you. He cocks his head to the side and focuses on your eyes.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much.” You look away from him as his gaze intensifies.

“So, what if I am? You agreed to let me draw you,” Dalton argues with a smile.

You groan and fall over onto his bed, hiding your face in your folded arms.

“I can’t draw you if I can’t see you.”

“Then draw something else.”

“No other models as pretty as you,” Dalton says as he nudges your arms out of the way to see your face.

“Shut up,” you mumble. Dalton smiles and you don’t give him a chance to respond before you add, “If you tell me to make you I will punch you into Chris’ room.”

“You wound me. I just want to draw and you’re depriving me. I think, whoa, I think I feel faint,” he exclaims, raising a hand to his forehead.

“Dalton, don’t!”

You try to move out of the way but are too slow. Dalton lands on top of you, his arms holding yours to your side as his face is directly in front of yours.

“You don’t have to draw me now. You can just hold up the flat piece of paper, now that you’ve crushed me,” you tease, leaning your head forward to brush your nose with his.

“I love you,” he says.

“Got a weird way of showing it, Lambert.”

“But it’s my way, Lambert.”

“What?”

Dalton shrugs and raises his hands to cup your face, holding himself up on his elbows. “Figure we’ll get married sooner rather than later, might as well start now.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, much quieter now.

“Make-“

You cut Dalton off with a kiss, holding the sides of his shirt in your hands as he reciprocates your movements. When you remember what he said, you push him away and smile at the furrow between his brows.

“I love you.”

Dalton smiles and stands up, pulling you with him.

“I need to go buy a new sketchbook, wanna come?”

“Didn’t you just get that one?” you ask, pointing to the one he bought just a few weeks before.

“It’s full,” he answers, grabbing his phone and a jacket.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

You open the sketchbook and see a drawing of you, then flip through and see dozens more.

“Dalton, what are all these?”

He takes the book from your hands and sets it on his desk. His hands raise to hold your jaw and he kisses your forehead before speaking.

“You’re right. We should get the biggest canvas we can find so I can put the next one on the wall.”

You lean your head forward and groan into his chest.

“You’re so in love with me it’s sickening,” you say as you wrap your arms around him.

“Right back at you.”

You step back as Dalton flips his sketchbook to his most page. He sets it on his desk, where he had been working to draw you, and takes a seat.

“You have an empty spot,” you point out as you lay on Dalton’s bed.

“What?” he asks, looking up from his art project before he can focus on it again.

“Right there.” You point to a spot on his wall that doesn’t have any artwork on it.

Dalton nods and puts his pencils away, then wipes his hands as he stands and moves beside the bed. He smiles down at you then looks up at the wall.

“I think I have just the thing.”

You watch as he flips through his sketchbook before removing a page. He stands on his bed, careful not to step on you, and attaches it to the wall with glue dots. Once secured, he drops to his knees and lays down beside you, slipping his arm under your head and encouraging you to move closer. You move to place your head on his chest and get a better look at the new drawing.

“Dalton,” you gasp as you sit up.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling as he watches you.

“You drew me?”

“Several times. That one’s my favorite though.”

You remember the day; you had saved him from an afternoon of socializing with Chris and ended up sitting in a park for hours.

“When did you do that?”

“That night, after I came back. I just couldn’t get you out of my head.”

You smile and lay on top of Dalton, hugging him tightly. He wraps his arms around you, leaning his head against yours.

“Hey, I made the wall!” you say excitedly, sitting up again to look at Dalton.

“You could be the entire wall with how many sketches of you are over there.” Dalton smiles and brushes his hand along your cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Drawing me. Loving me.”

“I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

You lean forward and kiss Dalton, letting your actions tell him that you feel the same.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 36

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: we got that xmas hangover.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The living room is silent as you enter. Andy remains as he’s been, sitting at the corner of the couch, beer in hand as he stares at the television. Amber distracts herself with a hanging landscape on the wall, seemingly trying to disappear into that photographic world. Steve clears his throat as he follows you.

“Do you we have a truce?” The doctor asks.

He doesn’t get much of an answer. Andy slurps loudly from the neck of the bottle and Amber shrugs and grumbles. You hug yourself and stop at the end of the couch. Why can’t they get along? They both love you, don’t they?

“Bub,” Amber spins away from the framed picture, “were you going to show me your painting?”

“Oh, uh… yeah,” you rub your neck, cradling your elbow as you peek over at Andy. He stays transfixed by the television. It’s deliberate. He’s tuning you out. 

“Can I tag along?” Steve asks.

You nod and make yourself stand straight. You point them through the door before flitting through yourself and lead them down the hall. You sigh as you escape the tension of Andy’s silent sulking. 

You fumble with the garage door, you can feel the cold through the metal handle. You get it open and the light inside flicks on as the sensor triggers. You stand back and wait for them to go first.

Amber takes the lead, then Steve passes with a gentle smile, and you trail after them. They descend the few steps as their breath clouds visibly in the cold air. Your stomach flips as they turn their attention to the painting. They stop as they consider your work.

You near the edge of the easel and chew your lip, “do you like it?”

“Bub, it’s so good,” Amber claps her hands. “You did this all by yourself?”

You nod emphatically and smile. She marvels at the large canvas as Steve steps closer with narrowed eyes. His cheek dimples as he gives the pigment an inquisitive stare.

“How did you do this?” He asks breathlessly, “the feathers…” he raises his hand but doesn’t touch the canvas, “they look real.”

“Well, um, I just… did my best,” you sway back and forth, nearly squealing in delight. 

You step away from the easel and turn to take in your work. A few days ago, you wanted to paint over it all but now, you wouldn’t dare change a stroke. It really is nice. And you did all that!

“It has personality,” Steve continues, “I can tell you made it for Andy… it looks a bit angry.” Steve chuckles and you give him a sheepish look, brows rising high, “not in a bad way. 

“It’s cold out here,” Andy startles you as he stands at the top of the stares, filling the doorway with his tall figure.

“Not that bad,” Amber rubs her hands together. “Colder outside.”

Andy sighs and rolls his eyes, “not arguing, just saying.”

Steve sniffs, “we’ll come in soon. We’re just admiring the art.” He brings his hand to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully, “what are your rates?”

You look at him in surprise as Andy lets out a ‘huh’.

“Might want something small for the office,” he muses, “I know they’re kinda plain but I always thought nightingales were pretty.”

“I like nightingales,” you chirp.

“That sounds like a fun project,” Amber encourages.

You still feel a bit cloudy but your heart swells happily. A new project is always a new adventure. In the back of your mind, you think it's a good distraction. You glance back at Andy as he glowers.

“I should have time since I’m all done this,” you say.

“I’ll be more than happy to compensate you for that time,” Steve assures, “do you offer lessons? I always wanted to get into painting. I recommend it to so many patients, I might just take my own advice.”

“I’m… oh, I could…”

“You don’t need to make up your mind now,” he crosses one arm, cradling and elbow as he stretches his other hand wide, “I’m thinking out loud.” He shudders and wiggles his shoulders, “brr, it is cold out here.”

“Let’s go warm up with some tea,” Amber suggests as she pats your back, “huh? Tea always helps.”

“Sure,” you walk beside her toward the door.

Andy looms as you approach, not backing up until you get to the top of the steps, Amber just behind you. He inches away, stern as he watches you pass. He doesn’t move until Steve comes inside and he reaches to slam the door behind him.

“Don’t wanna leave that open,” he mutters, “heat bill’s high enough.”

🕊️

Amber lingers at the door. Steve stands behind her, neither eager to be away. Your sister clings to your hand, swinging your arms between you. You see the worry in her smile.

“I’ll miss you, bub,” she says, squeezing your hand.

“Miss you too,” you eke out, “you could come back again. Maybe tomorrow?”

She hesitates and glances past you to the doorway. Her lips slant, “yeah, that’d be nice. Or maybe… you can come visit.”

“Oh,” you blink, surprised by the offer. You hadn’t thought of going home; to her house. You were too afraid to invite yourself, “maybe. That’d be nice.”

“I still have all your things, you know? You could grab some stuff,” she offers.

“Sure, I… yeah,” you pull your hand from hers, twiddling your fingers. What about now? You don’t ask but you want to as you hear Andy in the next room.

“Have a good night,” she croaks and pulls you into a hug. It’s so tight, you can’t breathe, “please… be careful.”

“Amb,” you touch her side, “I’m okay.”

“I know,” she holds you close and rocks you, “I know, you’re strong.” She parts and keeps you at arm’s length, “you can call me. Any time, you know?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle, “Amb, really…”

“Make sure you call my office too,” Steve intones as he steps up behind her, “should get a time in before next weekend.”

“Alright,” you chew your lip, “I’ll… call. Both of you. Promise.”

“You better,” Amber’s lips quiver, “please, I… I worry.”

“I will,” you avow firmly, “okay?”

“It’s late,” Steve touches her shoulder, “we’re all tired.”

You clutch your hands together, sinking your nails into your skin as you squeeze tight. You’d been so happy to see Amber, the thought of her leaving hadn’t even crossed your mind. Now the reality of it hits you like a bus. You can go with her.

Andy coughs from the other room. Your hope dissolves and you make yourself smile. You should stay, make sure he’s okay. After all he’s done for you, you owe it to him.

“Good night,” you squeak.

“Night, bub,” Amber says, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“See ya,” Steve waves over her shoulder as he pulls open the door, “get some sleep. Oh, and drink water.”

“Thanks,” you murmur and come forward as they sidle out the door.

You hesitantly shut the door in their stead and lock it. You stay and watch them leave through the window. The headlights of the car flash as it chirps and their doors open and close sharply. As long as the day’s been, it’s not over yet.

You shiver as cool air wafts up from under the door. You back up, crossing your arms, and turn slowly to face the empty house. You take careful but uncertain steps down the hall and stop at the threshold of the front room. 

Andy’s head leans against the back of the couch as a sports recap shows plays on the television. You inch closer and peek around the side as you approach. His eyes are closed as his arm drapes over the armrest.

You ponder leaving him there. You’re tired and you’re starting to feel a bit sick to your stomach. The wine coats your stomach sourly and rises in acrid belches. You stand stuck in indecision. You could lie and say he wouldn’t wake up.

“They gone?” He startles you with the question.

You nod and gulp. His head drifts over and he looks at you, expression drawn with discontent. You pick your thumbnail and bounce on your heels.

“Amber helped me clean up,” you say, “so… we can go to bed. It’s late–”

“It’s nine,” he stretches his arm out, “come here.”

He latches onto you, pulling your arm up, trailing his hand down to your wrist. He guides you around the front of the couch as he sits forward. He lures you in as his beer-laced breath tinges your nose.

“I’m tired,” you take his hand in both of yours, “we should lay down–”

“We don’t have to go to bed,” he insists.

“I want to, Andy, please? My head hurts–”

“Because you drank too much wine,” he reproaches, “who’s fault is that?”

You wince and your eyes flick over to the empty bottle on the end table, then back to him. He sighs and curls his lip, “beer isn’t as strong as wine, did you know that? Hmm? Of course you don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I…” you quaver, “I’m trying–”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he sneers, “to embarrass me.”

“What?”

“All day. Humiliating. You chose everyone but me. You hurt me, dove.”

“No, I wasn’t– I didn’t–”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head and looks away, “you said you love me but I think you’re lying to me.”

“What?” You pout.

“Just like you did with Amber. You’re using me,” he accuses.

“No.”

“Then what are you doing, huh? Dove,” he reaches forward and frames your waist, pulling you in as he slides to the front of the cushion, “if you love me, prove it.”

You bat your lashes as your mouth falls open. You don’t understand. You did everything he wanted all day. You cooked, you cleaned, and you tried to spend time with him but he pushed everyone away. Somehow it’s all your fault again.

He runs his hand up your arm and tickles your neck. He holds your chin between his thumb and index as he stares you down. You surrender. You’re too tired to fight. You lean in and kiss him.

The taste of him makes you sick. It’s wheaty and alcoholic, not as sweet as the wine. His arm hooks around you as he pulls you against him. You press your hands to his chest. His hand dips down your back and he gropes your ass, purring into your mouth.

His touch wanders further and he bends your leg, lifting it over his as his other hand travels down to mirror the movement. He urges you into his lap as he leans back. You part from his lips, straddling him awkwardly as you keep your hands flat to his chest.

“Andy,” you babble, “please, let’s go to bed–”

“We’ll stay here,” he reaches to grab the back of your head, yanking you close. Your arms bend but you keep your lips away from his, “what’s your problem?”

“Andy, please,” your stomach swims violently, “I don’t feel good.”

“You’re fucking drunk,” he slurs, “of course you don’t feel good.”

“Let me go,” you wriggle on top of him.

“What does it fucking matter?” He hisses, “you can lay on your back and do your duty.”

You flinch and slap his chest with one hand, “that’s mean. Andy, let me–”

You yipe as suddenly you’re scooped up and swept onto your back. The impact on the cushion knocks the air out of your chest as Andy quickly puts himself over you. His hand goes to your neck as he holds you down, pinning you as he lays between your open legs.

“Andy,” you beg as you grasp his thick arm, “you’re scaring me.”

“I just want a kiss,” he growls.

You close your eyes as he leans in again. You let him kiss you. He smothers you with the sticky lips as you squirm. A kiss isn’t much. A kiss won’t last long.

His knees shift as he raises himself slightly. Your heart leaps. His other hand creeps along the short hem of your dress and he tickles your thigh. Your stuck splayed beneath him as you writhe. He feels along the lacy edge of your panties and you whimper into his mouth.

You hit his shoulders as you try to push him away. You turn your head and gulp in air, “Andy, please, get off.”

“Baby, I need you,” he nuzzles your temple as he tugs aside your panties, “please, I’ve been waiting all day.”

Your chest pounds and your ears ring. You shove him helplessly as your chest racks painfully. No, no, no. The word echoes in your head. ‘You can tell them no…’

You ball your hands and hit Andy harder, “no!” You shout, “Andy, no! I don’t want it. I don’t want you!”

He ignores you, nibbling on your ear as he roughly jams his fingers between your folds. You squeal as your breath hitches. You can hardly puff it out as your heart hammers faster and faster. 

“No, no, no…” you chant as you struggle beneath him, “no, get off… no, no…”

You reach above you and grab onto the arm rest. He hardly notices as he touches you, violates you. His fingers slip along your entrance, poking you dryly as you whine and plead. You grunt and pull yourself up with all your strength. You manage to drag yourself up only a few inches.

“Dove,” he snarls as he lifts head, his fingers delving into your cunt, “be good—”

You swing your elbow down. Not a thought, not a doubt stops you from cracking the pointed bone across his head. You’re not thinking, you’re too scared for that. His hand slips from between your legs as he cries out and cradles his head.

You wriggle under him, kicking and flailing until you slip free, falling heavily onto the floor. Your skirt is around your waist as your panties cling in the crease of your leg. You pant wildly as you crawl away from the couch, trying to get as far as you can.

You stop only as you hear a strange noise. You look back, sitting on your knees as you fold your hands to your chest, trying to calm the swell of fear. Andy stays on the couch, folded over as he holds his face. His body shakes as he sobs.

“Dove,” he croaks and sniffs, “how could you?” He slowly pushes himself up, a hand over his eye, “you hurt me. Why would you do that?”

You flutter your lashes as the pain in his voice stabs deep into your heart. You didn’t mean to hurt him, you never wanted to hurt anyone. But you were afraid and he wouldn’t stop. You just wanted him to stop.

“I– I said— no…” you eke out.

He bends forward, holding his head as he curls his shoulders. He looks small and weak. You shakily get your feet under you and stand. He wipes away tears as he hides his face from you. As you come close, you reach to touch him and he recoils.

“Andy, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t touch me,” he swats you away, “don’t—” He looks up at you, his blue eyes swirling with fear, “dove…” his lip trembles, “you’re scaring me.”

You rip your hand back and grip your wrist against your chest. You back up as if you’ve been struck. You? Scaring him? But… 

He stands, watching you as if you might lunge. His shoulders stay rounded and hunched as he staggers, his hand still on one side of his face as he whimpers in pain. You reach your hand out and he winces again.

“Stay away,” he holds out an arm to shield himself, “dove, please, don’t hurt me again.”

He backs up, his gait uneven, almost stunned. He drags himself around the couch, sniffling loudly as he warily passes through the doorway. You look down at your hands, the throbbing still in your elbow from hitting him. You… hit him.

[azsazz]

Dioxazine

Modern!Rhys x Reader

Summary: While at the art shop looking for the necessary supplies for your first semester of art school, you get a bit distracted by the cocky cashiers intriguing eye color.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,254

Notes: It’s 1am and now it’s Sunday so I’m posting rn so @writingsbychlo can see this when she wakes up. This one’s for you babes! I hope you love it.

P.S. Gosh I just love young, cocky Rhys so much. 😭

_________________________________________

You really should’ve grabbed a basket.

Your arms are stuffed with supplies: sketchbooks, pencils, oil paints, a roll of canvas, anything and everything you could need for the start of your classes in a few days. 

They’d given you a list of all of the tools needed for your first semester at art school and yeah, you could’ve ventured to the nearest chain store, but you thought it’d be better to support the local art supply in town.

That is, until you meet the cashier.

He looks anything but friendly, leant over the expanse of the counter, flipping through a magazine ever so lazily. The boy doesn’t even look up when you drop your supplies down, spilling across the surface with purpose.

“Hello?” you crow when you’ve been standing there for a solid minute while he reads whatever article is next to the full page perfume ad with a half naked model on it. You catch sight of his long fingers rubbing the corner of the pages, separating them from each other so that he can turn to the next.

“Hi,” he responds blankly, like you’ve just run into him and he doesn’t know why you’re speaking to him. Your brows knit together as you stare at him, wondering if he always acts so careless about his job or you’ve just caught him at a bad time.

“I, um…” you trail off, frustrated because all you want to do is purchase your supplies and you’ll be out of his inky black hair. “Can you look at me?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw in annoyance, which is fine because his rudeness is irritating you as well, so at least you have that in common.

Finally, he snaps shut the magazine and looks up at you. His glaring eyes are startling, not because he looks menacing, but you’ve never quite seen a color like that before, bright violet with flecks of a dark hue that reminds you of the stars in the night sky. 

They make you itch to test out your new paints.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he stands to his full height, and holy Gods, he towers over you by at least a whole foot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

You clear your throat, “Yes, actually. If you’re not too busy, that is.” You glance at the magazine, now facedown on the counter.

The side of his mouth quirks in a wicked smirk, “You’ve caught me at a good stopping point.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath that only makes him smile wider.

“I’m looking for the umber oil paint but I didn’t see any on the rack.”

“Freshman then?” his teeth are bright in his grin. He rounds the corner of the counter, leading you back the way you came. There aren’t many students milling about the small shop, and as you pass the pen section you have to talk yourself into not purchasing another just for the sake of how pretty it looks.

You make a face at his insinuation. “You can tell that just from my paint selection?”

“Yes and no. No, because umber is a staple color for most painters,” he glances at you over his shoulder as he slows to a stop before the rack of organized paints. He takes his time, giving you a once over that makes you flush and hug your arms across your chest. His smile only grows and you scowl in response. “And yes, because If you weren't a freshman you would’ve asked for a specific one. There’s burnt umber and raw umber.”

He plucks both tubes of paint from the shelf and holds them out to you, “Very different colors.”

“They look the same to me,” you mumble, studying the swatches on the tubes. They’re a few shades off from each other, surely that can’t make that much of a difference.

You definitely don’t take into account how small the tubes look in his large hands, and you’re absolutely not thinking about taking one just to compare the size difference between your hands.

“Trying to decide which one to get?” His question is innocent but the look on his face is anything but.

You flush and the collar of your shirt seems to tighten out of nowhere. “Yes.”

He stares down at you for a moment, making sure that you know he’d given you an out.

“You’re going to need both.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, since you seem to know so much about art.”

“That’s why I work at the art store,” he replies bluntly, letting you lead the way back to the register, “Because I know my shit.”

“Well it’s definitely not because of your less than charming personality,” you retort, shocking yourself. You’re usually not so rude to people but there’s just something about this guy that’s getting under your skin. 

All you want to do is go back to your dorm.

“You think I’m charming?”

You scoff, “Absolutely not,” You catch yourself peeking at how well fitting his pants are against the round of his ass as he makes his way back to the register side of the counter. You shake your head, scolding yourself. “Now are you going to ring up my stuff?”

“No, but I will check you out.”

You groan, “That was terrible.”

“Terrible or cute?”

You give him a pointed look, face straight. “Terrible.”

“I can try another,” he says as he finally starts ringing up your art supplies.

“No thank you, just the supplies for me today, thanks,” you try, silently praying that he hurries. You can’t stand the thought of being around him for much longer if he spouts another cheesy line that you know he’s probably used on plenty of girls before. You don’t care how cute he is.

“You know what else these are good for?” He holds up the tube of Dioxazine purple paint, the one that looks like a bottled color of his eyes.

“I really didn’t ask.”

“Finger Painting.”

The retort rolls quickly off your tongue and just as swift to wipe that smile off of his gorgeous face. “Should’ve known that’s what you’re into, since you act like a three year old.”

His eyes glow, taking the card you’re holding out for the transaction. You don’t even care how much the total is, you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Feisty.”

“Just give me the damn receipt,” you’re pretty sure your cheeks look like they’ve been brushed with the cadmium red paint in your bag as you hold out your hand for your card and the thin sheet of paper.

“Yes, ma'am,” he obeys, passing both over to you, sliding your bag of supplies across the counter.

“And don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you? Darling? Or your name, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Any other requests?” he asks cheekily, planting his hands on the counter so he can lean toward it, towering over you.

You take the bag, fully planning on ignoring him in favor of taking a brisk walk towards the door but he’s shuffling around under the counter and trailing after you.

“Yeah, you can stop following me,” you remark, catching sight of the bunched up sweatshirt in his hands. It’s nowhere near cold yet so you don’t understand why he has that on him. Maybe it got cold in the store while he was sitting on his ass doing nothing.

“My shift just ended, Darling.” 

You halt as you step onto the sidewalk. He takes a few steps further, swinging around to face you when he realizes you’ve stopped.

Narrowing your eyes up at him, you say, “Didn’t I just tell you not to call me that?”

“You didn’t tell me your name, so I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you pet names, Darling.”

“(Y/N),” you nearly growl, “My name is (Y/N).”

He repeats your name and you clutch your bag tighter in your hands because you’d never heard it sound quite that lovely coming out of someone's mouth. It gives you goosebumps.

“I’m Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys.”

“I’m honored,” you respond sourly, hating that he’s smiling at your annoyance. “Can I go now?”

You try to step around him but he slides into your path again, blocking your way back to campus.

“You know my friends and I are throwing a party at my place tonight,” he starts, glancing up at the street over your head before returning those piercing eyes on yours. He shrugs.  “You know, before class starts up and all that.”

“Cool.”

He barks out a laugh that licks up your spine in the best way. “That was me inviting you, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It wasn’t,” you say, even though it was.

He cocks his head, grinning crookedly at you, “Don’t be like that.”

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at this cocky boy. You blurt the next question that comes to mind instead of giving him an answer. “Why are you even working here?”

“So I can meet pretty girls like you,” he responds innocently, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks in an exaggerated manner.

You can’t help but to laugh, shifting your bag to the other arm, “Try again.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a wicked curve and your heart definitely doesn’t stutter and you certainly aren’t thinking about breaking out the oil paints you’ve just bought.

“I might work at the art supply store to get a discount on my own supplies,” he starts, “Or I might work at the art supply store so that my father thinks that I can be independent and make a living off becoming an artist instead of taking over the family business.”

And well, you weren’t expecting him to be so open about it. 

Unsure of what to say, you focus on the fact that he said he was also taking classes for art. 

“You’re in art school?”

“I know, the patchwork tattoos make me seem like something much more scholarly,” he grins and you had taken notice of the array of…interesting patchwork tattoos littering the tanned skin of his arms.

“Yeah,” you huff a laugh, “The Mickey Mouse one really screams finance major.”

Rhys’ smile falls, an offended scowl taking over his perfect face. “It’s not just a tattoo of Mickey Mouse,” he protests, turning his arm so the both of you can see the silly tattoo better. “He’s…on drugs, so it’s cool, ya know? An aesthetic if you will.”

You stare at it, then at him, an eyebrow raised. 

He gives in. “Okay…so it was a dare but there’s a good story behind it, I swear! I can tell you more about it on our date.”

“Date? I thought it was a party?”

“So you’re coming?”

You purse your lips, unimpressed. “I didn’t say all that.”

The blaring sounds of a horn cuts off his response, drawing both of your attention to the street. There’s two boys in the front seats of the gorgeous vintage Bronco, painted your favorite color. Your mouth nearly drops at the pristine condition of the car, and then again once you catch sight of the handsome passengers.

The boy driving the car leans over the one in the passenger, “C’mon Rhys, hurry up and get her number or we’re going to do this thing without you!”

The boy in the passenger seat glares at the driver, your cheeks heating up under their stares.

“You heard him,” Rhys says, smiling so wide you’re afraid his cheeks might split open. “Can’t have them thinking I didn’t get your number, right?”

“You didn’t.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, yielding only a small step when you take one forward. When you don’t say anything he continues, “At least come to the party.”

“No, thanks.”

“Please?”

You exhale an exasperated breath. He just won’t give up. “If I say yes will you get out of my way?”

“Definitely,” he nods his head eagerly.

“Then yes,” you finally relent and he beams, “I will see you there.”

“Sick,” he mutters proudly to himself. He shoves his hand into your bag and you fumble for a second, yelping and straightening the paper sack as he rifles around for something.

Rhys pulls a sharpie out and grabs your arm. You’re so caught off guard that you just watch as he writes his number on your forearm in thick black letters. Your mouth drops open in shock. You’ll have to scrub your skin raw to try and get it off.

He steps back, admiring his work. He caps the marker and tosses it back into your bag, “My number looks good on you, you should consider getting that inked. I have a friend, if you want.”

“Let me guess, he’ll be at the party.”

His grin is shit eating.

Rhys winks, pulling out a can of spray paint from beneath the bunched up fabric of his sweatshirt as he retreats towards the car, and it’s then that you realize he's only brought the jacket so he could take the paint, hiding it in the fabric so no one would see.

He shakes the can in the air for emphasis, swinging a leg up into the backseat of the convertible. The grin on his face is something you'll be thinking about for the rest of the day.

“I'll paint something pretty for ya, (Y/N). See you tonight.”

[tbmunson]

Escape - Gareth Emerson x Reader pt.3

Summary: Your spot on the cheer team is threatened by the fast spreading news of your new relationship. Some people aren't as accepting as others.

Warnings: 18+ smut, oral, mentions of parent passing away, fluff.

Word Count: 5,527

Notes: I thank you guys again for your patience. Between normal life and unexpected events, it's a little harder to find time to sit down and write. Thank you all for continuing to support this story.

Taglist: First and foremost, my number one support, @ashes-writing. Thank you so much for everything. @depressedacidtest @nana90azevedo @alanamarie @lizzziekatt @m3ndacious @nighttwingg

You and Gareth had finished a decent portion of the paintings, not quite half, but more than a quarter, when the doorbell rang.

“Who’s that?” Gareth asked, looking up at you from the canvas.

You shrugged and sat your brush down. “No idea. Could be the guys if they tried to find us at your place.” You answered, stepping towards the door.

Gareth followed quickly, hugging you from behind as you stopped at the door, which made you laugh.

You pulled the door open as you looked up at him only to be met with a high pitched and disgusted “Ugh!”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back against Gareth. “What, Tiffany?” Your tone was flat, unwelcoming.

“Natalie called me to tell me about that little scene in the slum garage and I needed to talk to you about it, but in your house? Really?” Her face was scrunched, making her look more like a witch than she usually did.

“My boyfriend isn’t allowed to hug me?” You fake pouted, resting your hand on his arm. You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for her response.

“Boyfriend! Boyfriend? Are you kidding me?” She was screaming, hands clenched into fists that were shaking by her side.

You nodded in dramatically. “Yeah, boyfriend.”

“Absolutely not! Cheerleaders don’t date freaks!” She shrieked, making you roll your eyes

“Then I’ll turn in my uniform Monday morning, unless you’d like me to go grab it right now.” You offered, pointing to the stairs.

“I- uh- wait.” She held up her pointer finger and thought for a moment. You were the best at stunts on the team, and one of the three that could do serious acro that were left. The team couldn’t afford to lose you. “No. You can stay on the team. Just don’t sit with the freak brigade on game days.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously you can’t afford to kick me off the team or you would have, so I think I’ll sit where I’d like, when I’d like, wearing what I’d like.”

Tiffany’s chest rose and fell with deep, harsh breaths as she glared holes through your head. “You’re fucking lucky you’re talented because if you were anyone else you would be gone.”

“You’re fucking lucky I actually like cheering because if I didn’t you’d be shit out of luck. Now. If you don’t mind, get off of my porch and don’t come back.” You were ready to pounce and show her exactly how you felt about her after all these years, but you knew better.

Gareth’s hands fell to your hips where they had rested most of the day and he soothed you, rubbing his thumbs over your skin to calm you. “That was so fucking hot.” He mumbled into your ear as Tiffany stomped away towards her car.

The guys turned on the street and saw Tiffany’s car in your driveway before seeing her yank the door open with the most sour look.

“Wonder what happened?” Grant asked before seeing what was happening at the front door.

You had turned yourself around and pulled Gareth down for a kiss, tongue licking over his bottom lip while he backed you up against the doorframe.

“No fucking way!” Jeff yelled before making a quick turn into your driveway.

The guys piled out, clad in all black, which pissed Tiffany off even more. “Fucking freaks!” She yelled out of the window as she started her car and slammed it into reverse.

Jeff flipped her off as they ran up to the door. “It’s about time!” He called out, breaking the kiss.

“When I’m right, I’m right.” Eddie smirked, making you roll your eyes.

“Fuck off, Eddie.” You laughed, letting an arm drop from around Gareth. “You don’t get credit for this.”

“Yeah, Greely does, actually.” Grant said, holding up a bag for you. “We all got you something, by the way.”

Gareth raised his eyebrow as you took the bag.

“You guys didn’t need to get me anything.” You said, opening the bag.

“Shut up and take it out, Princess.” Eddie urged, watching you closely.

You pulled the heap of black fabric from the bag and unfolded it. “Oh, my god!”

“Dude! That’s sick!” Gareth added, looking at the white lettering.

“You’re our biggest fan. And you’re really cool. It’s the least we could do.” Jeff smiled as you took in the new Corroded Coffin t-shirt.

“You guys are the best!” You squealed, taking a turn to hug each of the boys. “Thank you, again, for not writing me off with people like Tiffany and the bitch brigade. You guys are the best.”

The boys couldn’t help but smile. “It was Grant’s idea. The shirt.” Jeff stated, nodding his head to the bassist.

“Yeah, but we all went in on it so I can’t take all the credit.” The boy blushed lightly as being called out by his friend.

“Well it was a very sweet idea. Thank you, again. Why don’t you guys come on in? It’s warm out here.” You waved the boys inside and made sure to close the door behind them.

“This is a nice place.” Eddie said as he looked around at the pristine white walls and light wooden floors.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t feel very homey to me. My parents aren’t into the whole displaying memories thing.” You replied, leading them into the sitting room. “I’ll go clean up the studio real quick. I’ll be right back.” You headed towards the stairs and Gareth followed, grabbing your hand as he walked up with you.

“They adore you, you know.” He smiled, squeezing your hand as you topped the stairs.

You grinned and looked back down at the three guys who made themselves at home on the couches that hadn’t been sat on in who knows how long. It felt more like home than it ever had. “I adore them too, but not as much as I adore you.” You replied, standing on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He watched you move with nothing but happiness on his face and that was enough for you.

Once the two of you cleaned up the mess and stopped the stereo you grabbed the tray you’d brought up earlier and returned downstairs. “I made sandwiches earlier, which you guys are welcome to.” You announced before setting it down on the coffee table.

The boys reached for the food and Eddie asked “So what exactly was that bitch here about?” In reference to Tiffany.

You explained the situation, including the fact that they needed you and didn’t have a say in a single thing you did anymore.

“I will never understand how people like her work. What makes her think she can control someone’s personal life?” Jeff asked, laying back against the couch with a couple of the grapes from the tray.

“Everyone rolls over to her because they’re scared of her. I’m done with that shit, you know? I’m tired of being what everyone else wants me to be. If that makes me a freak, then I’m proud of that.” You sighed, relaxing into Gareth’s side.

“Welcome to the Freak Brigade, Princess.” Eddie smirked as he snatched the last sandwich. He filed the name away, deciding that would be a good name for the Corroded Coffin fan base.

“It’s a pleasure to have you.” Grant added, peeling the cover off of the sleeve of Oreos.

Gareth kissed your cheek and smiled down at you. “You could have joined us at any time.”

“Gross.” Eddie mumbled, hiding his laugh behind the sandwich.

You rolled your eyes and rested your head against the back of the chair. “Jealousy is ugly, Eddie.”

The boys all laughed and fell into conversation about the campaign that was set to kick off the following Thursday, the last one for most of the club.

You mindlessly played with Gareth’s hair as you listened to them talk animatedly, more enthusiastic than any of the other people you’d hung around talked about anything.

“Do you know how to play, Princess?” Eddie asked, drawing you out of your own head.

You shook your head and chuckled. “Dustin gave me a rundown yesterday at lunch, but I don’t think I could compete with you guys.”

Gareth squeezed your thigh, noticing how your body reacted to him for the first time. “I’ll teach you, help you out if you wanna join in on the campaign.” He smiled, digging his fingers in a little deeper as he watched you.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You were biting back any noises that wanted to bubble up your throat and swallowing them back down.

“Great, Dustin and Will can help you with a character sheet. Those two are little geniuses when it comes to… just about anything actually.” Eddie laughed, noticing but ignoring the tension between you and Gareth.

“Great. I’ll draw their, uh, their characters as payment.” You replied in an attempt to clear your brain as Gareth’s hand gently slipped up and down your skin, driving you crazy in the best way.

“Great.” Eddie replied, laughing a little.

“Oh, Gareth, I was supposed to show the girls some acro. We should probably head down in a few, hm?” You knew if you were to sit here for another five minutes you’d just jump his bones in front of everyone.

“Right, right. Why don’t you go get changed and me and the boys will wait for you here?” He offered, not wanting to seem like he was dying to get into your room.

You nodded and kissed his cheek before getting up to run up the stairs.

“Gareth, you just teased the fuck out of her.” Eddie stated, moving to stand.

“Yeah, I thought she was going to take you right here.” Jeff added, grabbing the now empty tray to take into the kitchen for you.

Gareth chuckled and looked towards the stairs. “Can you blame me? I’ve only wanted her for the last fourteen years of my life.”

“I overheard Tiffany the other day saying how she hasn’t, you know. So don’t push too hard. Might scare her off.” Grant said in a whisper, making sure you wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Gareth nodded, wondering if you’d been waiting for him. He waited for you for so long, until last year he just couldn’t take it anymore and he convinced himself you’d never give him the light of day. He ended up messing around and hooking up with the senior girl in Hellfire that year, which he kind of regretted and was kind of happy about. He knew what he was doing and he’d be able to please you, but on the other hand, he would have loved for you to be his first.

You came back down in a pair of practice shorts and a tighter t-shirt with your hair in a ponytail. “Ready?” You asked, slipping your sneakers on at the foot of the stairs.

“Yeah.” Gareth smiled, reaching out for your hand, which you gladly let him take.

The sight was a little funny, four guys dressed in all black walking you down the street wearing a pale pink top and white bottoms. It definitely caught the attention of some of your neighbors who gave you a strange look.

Gareth restrained himself from touching all over you as you walked. The outfit left very little to his imagination and he was definitely imagining the rest. At least until he heard his sisters all your names and start running towards you.

“Are you gonna show us tricks now?” Clara asked, reaching up and taking your hand as Lori tried her best to climb into Eddie’s arms to tell him about her competition.

You nodded and bent down to pick her up. “I sure am, lil bit. How about I show you a back handspring?”

“Mrs. Amy is supposed to teach my class that soon!” Lori said, turning in Eddie’s arms.

“I can show you how and you can impress Mrs. Any next time you go to class.” You winked, earning a squeal from the girl.

“Alright, so I’ll show you first and then I’ll break it down for you and help you. I don’t want you to try it by yourself just yet because we don’t have a mat and I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” You emphasized as you handed Clara off to her favorite bandmade, Grant.

The girls nodded and watched you closely, cheering you on with the boys.

“How many can you do in a row?” Lori asked as you walked back over.

“I can do five.”

“I wanna do five!” Clara yelled excitedly, making you and the boys laugh.

“Let’s start with getting one down, then we can work on multiples.” You replied with a smile. “You guys ready to try that?”

“Yeah!” The girls wiggled themselves out of the arms holding them and followed you.

You looked up at the boys and nodded to the garage. “You guys can go hang out. I think us girls have it under control out here, right?” You really just didn’t want them to get bored, standing around watching a couple of letting girls jump around.

“Yeah! Us girls got it out here.” Lori said sassily, making everyone laugh again.

“Alright, Princesses. We’ll get out of your way.” Eddie bowed dramatically before walking towards the garage.

Gareth stepped over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Let me know if they get to be too much, Doll.” He squeezed your hip and watched the blush that spread across your face.

“They’ll be fine. We’re not going to do too much.” You rested your hand on his arm and gave him one more kiss before letting him follow the boys.

“I thought you said you weren’t his girlfriend.” Lori pouted, feeling like she may have been lied to.

You dropped down to your knees in the grass. “He wasn’t last night. He just asked me today. You know what that means, don’t you?” You asked, brushing some hair out of her face.

“What?” She asked, still pouting.

“That means that I get to come over and play with you guys all the time.

Clara gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with her hands. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for each girl to take the turn.

“Yay!”

After about half an hour the sun began to set and you had both girls doing back handsprings, with you spotting them of course. You were getting ready to call it quits when Gareth’s mom walked outside.

“Would you girls like some lemonade after that practice?” She asked from her spot on the porch.

“Mommy! Y/N is the best girlfriend Gareth ever had!” Lori yelled, making your face flush, which wasn’t that noticeable considering you were already red faced from the work and heat.

“Girlfriend?” She asked curiously, like she hadn’t seen her son kiss you earlier from her spot at the kitchen window.

“Yes ma’am. As of today.” You replied, walking with the girls up to the porch.

“Please, call me Gwen.” She smiled, handing you a cold glass full of lemonade. “He’s had a thing for you for a while, you know.”

“I’ve had one for him too. Probably since we were Lori’s age.” You admitted, taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs, which appeared to be an open invitation for the girls to crawl into your lap.

“Trust me honey, I used to catch the two of you looking at each other from down the street. I think you two were the only ones who didn’t know.” She chuckled before scolding the girls for climbing all over you.

“Oh, no, they’re fine. I had to tell Gareth that a hundred times in the last two days.” You laughed as Clara yawned, evidence that she hadn’t taken a nap today.

“They talked about you all day today, telling me how you were the funnest person ever and how nice you were to them.” Gwen said, then added, “Thank you for teaching them a new skill and spending time with them. That last girl Gareth had hanging around wasn’t… gifted when it came to kids. That was one of the reasons they broke things off. He never left her alone with them.”

You couldn’t stop the bitter chuckle that came out of you. “She wasn’t my biggest fan either. I think she wrote me off with the rest of them.” You hugged the girls a little closer as sleep began to take hold of them.

“I didn’t like her.” Lori mumbled with her eyes closed, making both you and Gwen laugh.

“I don’t think Gareth did either, much.” Gwen sighed, standing to grab Clara. “It’s bedtime my sweet angel. I’ll come back and get Lori.”

“I’ll take her up. I did it last night.” You said, standing with the girl on your hip.

“Gareth made you take her up?” Gwen questioned, eyebrow ticking up like she was ready to tell her son off.

“Gareth won't make me do anything I don’t want to do, I promise.” You assured her as you followed her in.

Gwen laughed and nodded. “Good. You tell me if he starts and I promise you it won’t last long.” She nodded with a look that was sweet but also serious. That’s when you knew that you loved her.

“I promise you I will.” You smiled, following her up the stairs. “Goodnight lil bit.” You cooed to Clara before walking through the open door across the hall. “And goodnight to you too, baby doll.”

“Goodnight my other angel.” Gwen said softly from the door.

“Night mama, night Doll.” Lori mumbled, making you laugh a little as you pulled the blanket up.

“Doll?” Gwen asked as you closed the door behind yourself.

“I guess she heard Gareth call me that earlier.” You chuckled, following the woman down the stairs.

Gwen smiled and her eyes watered a little. “That’s what Gareth’s father called me before he passed away.”

Your stomach turned, realizing the weight the simple name carried. “Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say.

“He doesn't call anyone that, so you’re special.” She took your hand in hers and gave it a gentile squeeze.

You smiled and squeezed hers back. “He’s special to me too. Now that I have him I’m scared to lose him.” You weren’t sure why you were admitting that to his mother, but it felt right. Safe. More than you could say for your own mother.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Honey. I know your parents are gone a lot so if you need to be around people, don’t be shy.” She patted your hand, a silent assurance that you won’t lose her son.

“Thank you.”

Gareth opened the door and looked at the scene, smiling a bit. “Trying to embarrass me, mom?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Not at all. Don’t accuse your mother of things.” You answered, walking over and hugging him. “Lori spilled the beans about us, by the way.” You smiled up at him as his arms fell around you.

“Well, at least that part is over with.” He kissed your forehead as glanced at his mom who nodded back at him. “Lets go to the garage with the guys, hm?”

You nodded and turned back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwen.” You smiled at the woman before walking out of the door with Gareth.

“What did you guys talk about?” He asked, keeping you as close to his body as possible.

“Nothing.” You replied with a sly smile. You leaned up and kissed him as he opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t worry about it. I promise it was nothing you need to be concerned with, okay?” 

“If I pretend I’m still worried about it will you kiss me some more?” He smirked, stopping you next to the garage.

“If you want a kiss, just ask for it.” You ran your hands up over his chest, one coming to rest on his shoulder and the other resting on the side of his neck.

“That’s all it takes?” He asked, holding your hips and squeezing them.

You nodded as his face came closer to yours.

“Can I kiss you, Doll?”

You nodded again and pulled him into you.

His lips moved with yours and his hands dipped lower to rest on your ass before squeezing, eliciting a moan which he swallowed before pulling back. “Is that too much?” He asked, remembering what Grant mentioned earlier.

You shook your head and pulled him back down. “We could do more.” You whispered against his lips.

Gareth tensed a bit but kept going. “Have you done more?” He asked after a moment.

“No. I didn’t want to give it up to any of those meatheads. Greg begged for it, but I wouldn’t touch him with a fifty foot pole.” You replied, twisting some of his hair in your fingers. “But I want you to have it.”

Gareth groaned and grabbed your ass again. “Shit, baby. Of course I want it. I just don’t wanna rush you.”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t sure.” You kissed the corner of his mouth and then his lips. “My house is still empty.” You whispered, lips ghosting over his.

He groaned again and pulled you off of the side of the garage. “Hey boys, uh, we’ll be back later.”

“Should I ask?” Eddie quirked a brow, looking between the two of you.

“Nope.” You answered as Gareth gently pulled you towards your house.

“Oh, they’re about to fuck.” Eddie stated as he plopped the joint between his lips to light.

“Should we leave them some?” Jeff asked, grabbing one of the other joints.

Grant shrugged and watched Gareth grab your ass as you walked. “I don’t think they’ll be back.

You unlocked the door and pulled Gareth up the stairs with you. You stopped to open the door to your bedroom but Gareth turned you around and pushed you up against said door.

“If you want to stop, tell me. I promise I won’t be mad.” He ran his hands up and down your sides, bunching your shirt up a bit so he could touch your skin.

“I promise I’ll tell you.” You replied, craning your head to capture his lips in a kiss.

He smiled and kissed you slower than before but it was so much more powerful. His tongue pushed gently into your mouth as his hand reached for your door knob. Once he had it open he nudged you gently into the room and pulled away from the kiss to look around.

“What?” You asked, following his eyes.

“It’s different from what I thought it would be.” He replied, scanning over the darker art you had displayed.

“Spend a lot of time imagining what my bedroom looked like?” You joked, smiling at him.

He nodded and pulled your body into his. “I was expecting pink and frilly and cheer trophies. Maybe some pom poms hanging around.” He chuckled, taking one last look.

“Yeah? Bet you were hoping for pretty pink panties hanging off the top of the laundry basket too, huh perv?” You laughed as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

He glanced over to the basket and back to you. “Maybe. But I’ll settle for the black ones.” He smirked, bending to lift the lacy fabric up.

“I wore those last night.” You shrugged, biting your lip gently.

Gareth dropped them back down and walked over to you, pushing you back gently to hover over you. “What kind did you wear today?” He gripped your hip, with one hand while the other held him up.

“Why don’t you find out?” You asked, reaching up to his shoulder and pulling him down for a kiss.

He groaned into the kiss, his hand slipping from your hip to your core, making you moan. “Someone sounds needy.” He chuckled as he started kissing down your neck. His hand slipped back up your body, peeling your shirt up.

You sat up a bit to aid him in removing the garment, unhooking your bra while you were at it before falling back to the bed.

“You’re beautiful.” Gareth whispered before leaning back down to pepper your chest in kisses. His hand that wasn’t holding him up ghosted up your stomach before grasping one of your boobs, giving it a light squeeze.

You moaned out, bringing your hands to push through his hair.

“You liked that, huh?” He asked, looking up at you with a smile.

You nodded, breathing heavily.

He smirked at you again before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and nipping lightly on it. He could get off on just watching you squirm beneath him. Once he moved on from your nipple he slipped off of the bed to settle between your legs. “You soaked all the way through to your shorts baby.” He rubbed your thighs as he spoke.

“There was nothing to soak through.” You said, looking down at him.

“Hm?” His brows furrowed.

You chuckled and pushed yourself up on your arms. “Take them off.” You nodded to the shorts.

He reached up and gently pulled them down, only to be met with your bare, glistening pussy. “Fuck, been without panties all day?” He asked, warm breath fanning over you.

“Yeah, just hoping you’d notice.” Your words were breathy, almost silent.

“Been this wet all day too?” He asked before kissing the inside of your knee.

“Started when I watched you practice. I’ve been trying to be good.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, savoring the flavor of Gareth that lingered there.

Gareth kissed further up your left thigh, pulling back just before he reached your core. “Trying to be my good girl?” He asked before kissing the inside of your right knee and starting up.

“Yes, Gareth, fuck. Please.” You begged, watching him come closer and closer to where you were dripping.

He groaned as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft skin. “You sound so pretty when you beg.” He had no other choice but to give you what you were asking for.

His tongue glided up your delicate folds, he moaned at the taste of you.

You let out a strangled whine, causing him to pull back.

“Don’t try to hold back to pretty noises, baby. Let me hear it, yeah?” He dipped back in, licking over your clit and reveling in the moans you released. It was animalistic in the best way, driving him to continue.

He unraveled one of his arms from around your leg and teased your entrance before gently pushing it in.

Your moans came out louder as the pleasure registered, only to be amplified by him adding another and curling them, reaching farther than your own fingers ever could.

“C’mon, baby, I know you're close. You’re squeezing my fucking fingers.” He mumbled into you, sending vibrations through you.

“Close, ‘M close.” Your breathing was rapid, moans spewing from your throat as the coil in your core snapped, Gareth’s name falling from your lips at full volume.

“Good girl, good girl.” He mumbled as you slowly came down from the high as he gently rubbed your thigh.

You looked down at him and reached out, trying to grab him. “Please.” You pouted, opening and closing your hand.

He smiled softly at you and was by your side in seconds. “What is it, pretty girl?” He ran the tips of his fingers up and down the side of your face as he waited.

“More.” You whispered, rolling onto your side to face him.

“More?” He raised an eyebrow. “More of what, baby?”

“You. More of you. All of you.” You pouted, hand resting on the side of his neck to pull him to you. You kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, pressing a kiss to your nose then forehead. “Yeah? Get up to the top of the bed, okay?”

You nodded and pushed yourself further up the bed as you watched him stand, pulling his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his pants. “So pretty.” You mumbled, watching him shed his layers until he was fully exposed to you.

“If you wanna stop, tell me. I promise I will.” He smiled, crawling up to settle between your legs.

“Okay.” You admired the way the lamp in the corner highlighted the high points of his face. You felt seen, needed more than desired. “Gareth.” Your voice was low, soft, you weren't sure he heard you until he hummed back. “I love you.”

His mouth went dry and he looked down at you. A hundred thoughts raced through his mind, all of them involving you and the reasons why he knew what he said next was true. “I love you too.” He bent down to kiss you again, gently, like you were made of glass and he was scared to break you.

You felt the truth behind his words in the way he was so careful, taking his time, making sure you were okay. Your mind only fell from the kiss when you felt him press against you, slipping through your folds. You gasped.

Gareth pulled back and looked down at you. “You’re okay baby. I’ve got you, okay?” He stopped all movement, waiting on you to respond.

“I know. I’m okay.” You replied, hips twitching a bit, anxious for his next move.

He nodded, finally positioning himself at your entrance. “I’m gonna go slow, geet you all nice and stretched out. You gotta tell me when you want me to move.”

You nodded, but were shocked at his tutting. “Use your words, baby.” You moaned at the sound of his lust filled voice.

“Okay.”

He kissed your forehead and pushed into you slowly stretching you open inch by inch. “Feel so good baby, shit.” He thought he may bust early because of how tight you were, but he kept his control, only shuttering once he was fully inside of you.

You waited a moment, soaking in the feeling, before you looked up into his eyes. “You can move now, please.”

Gareth chuckled darkly, his fingertips skimming over your cheek. “So fucking polite.” He dragged himself out slowly and pushed back in at an equal pace, watching your body react to him until you were begging him to go faster.

You were a moaning mess of pleasure, unsure of how you’d ever be able to anything other than be in bed with Gareth. There wasn’t a coherent thought in your head, let alone coming out of your mouth as he began slamming into you at a delicious pace.

His hand slipped between your bodies and rubbed circles over your clit as he watched your face contort in ways he hadn’t seen before, ways that he needed to see again and again.

Your fingernails dug into his back, his scalp, the bedsheets, anything you could find to remind you that you were still on Earth.

“You’re close baby, I can feel it.” Gareth whispered into your ear as you tightened around him.

You nodded, unable to form a simple ‘yes’ in response.

“Give it to me. I know you can. That’s it, good girl.” Gareth’s hips sputtered as you came, white hot pleasure soaking both of you as he followed you over the edge, filling you with him.

There was a long moment of silence where the two of you recovered before you spoke. “Do you really love me?” You asked, turning to face him.

He half smiled, reaching his hand out to you. “I have loved you since our first day of elementary school when you came over and shared your 64 pack of crayons with me because I only had 24. You told me that wasn’t enough colors to be creative, so we made these two awful looking blobs with all 64 colors. That’s the day I knew I loved you.”

You giggled, wrapping yourself around him. “I knew I loved you the next day when I was on the swings by myself and you came over and told me that I was your best friend and best friends don’t swing alone. You pushed me so high I thought I was flying.” You smiled before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“We’re so stupid.” He chuckled, shaking his head. He continued when he saw the curious look in your eyes. “We’ve been in love with each other since we were four. We were just to dumb to say anything. We could have been happier a lot sooner.” He smiled, pulling you into his body.

“Yeah, I guess we are pretty dumb, worried about what the other would have said. I’m glad I have you now. You’re not going anywhere.” You replied, drinking in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Same goes for you, Doll. Same goes for you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you while you drifted to sleep.

[writtenonreceipts]

Even More Random Prompts

Some may be similar to each other, I tried to play off of the prompts to create more of the same vein.  Shrugs maybe not the best list, but I think it’s fun. Please do not repost. Reblogs welcome.

find other prompts here

I can explain.  This isn’t as bad as it looks.

Sometimes bad decisions are the only ones we’ve got.

Rise and shine, it’s time for the worst day of your life.

I’ll bring the vodka, you bring the bad decisions.

Well, no one told me that.

No, we are not keeping the cat.

It’s too early for this.

Is that coffee?

It’s five in the morning, did you expect a warm welcome?

Sorry, all I can provide is sarcasm.

Look at that dog.  We need  it.

You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I promise, that was an accident.

Is that a flip phone?

I’m being crafty, shut-up.

There is no such thing as too much glitter.

I have a glue gun and I’m not afraid to use it.

Give me all the dogs, I don’t care.

I need a blowtorch, a roll of duct tape, and marshmallows.

Let’s go on an adventure.

Please tell me you know how to change a tire.

Is that band-aid pink? // With unicorns. // That’ll do.

Wake up asshat, we’ve got crimes to do.

How do you manage to trip over everything?

Here, let me help.

Don’t worry, it’s going to be alright.

Didn’t you meet them on the internet?

Your cat is a judgmental bitch.

I can’t even keep a goldfish alive, how can I handle this?

Let’s make some mistakes.

How about a drink? // Of alcohol or rat poison?

Under no circumstances are you to talk about politics, religion, or your favorite ice cream flavor.

We are in the trenches of a family reunion--survival is the only thing that matters.

Whoever said ignorance is bliss never had anxiety.

What do you mean you don’t know how to ride a bike?

For the record, I totally would have helped with that.

Why would anyone live here?

Have a sticker for your troubles.

Don’t call me that.

You’ve got something on your face.

Can you zip this for me?

What are you wearing?

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

Fine then, I won’t say anything.

That was a wonderful accident.

It’s Monday.  Again.

Time is funny like that, it really likes screwing me over.

They’re an artist without a canvas

That’s a lot of caffeine.

Well, that’s a little disturbing.

How much have you had to drink?

I only have one love, and that is mozzarella sticks.

So, where were you planning on getting the tattoo?

I thought you hate needles. // Yes, but I like spiting my family more, I’m getting the damn tattoo

You need me more than you hate me.

A lot of people want to kill me.  I am very proud of that.

This is the worst day of my life.

C’mon, it’s just family dinner, how bad could it be?

Please don’t kill me, I have a good reason for this.

Care to explain the glitter lotion?

I supported the entire self tanning industry when I was a teen.

I don’t trust myself with this information.

Why do you always choose violence?

My car, my rules. We’re listening to Nickleback whether you like it or not.

Yeah, the vase of dead roses really says a lot.

That’s not a cat that’s a skunk.

I brought your favorite ice cream.

Well you're about as delightful as a kidney stone.

Who the hell are you?

What do you want from me?

Hold on, I’ve got handcuffs in my purse.

Ugh, why are you covered in cheap cologne?

I’m not wearing the right shoes for this.

I’m not the one who paid three hundred dollars for a shirt.

I wanted to buy you flowers.

When a child hands you a rock, you have to accept it.

I’m sorry and I’ll never stop apologizing.

I miss you.

Wait for me, I’ll be home soon.

Are you sure about this?

Please? I brought pizza.

I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you.

Wait.  Please, don’t go?

I just hope you can forgive me.

And they say dropping out of college is a bad thing

Can your fancy degree do this?

I was only arrested one time…The second I got off on a technicality

I cry at any hint of affection

Don’t judge them, they’re just really, really hungry

Is that a clown?

Why is there a llama in the yard?

I know how this looks, but it was not my fault.

Therapy’s too expensive, eat some chocolate.

Would I really lie to you? // Yes.

The last time I trusted you you killed my succulent plant.

How much caffeine have I had?--I’d rather not answer that.

Stabbing people is not a proper expression of emotion.

That was not what I was expecting to happen.

Sorry, I just need seventy years to recover from the embarrassment.

[riotwritesthings]

Pride month request!!!

Color: purple my beloved

Ship: stony

Word prompt(if you want): sunflowers

Love youuuuuuu 🥰🥰🥰

I love youuuuu and you've already read this but I guess everyone else can read it too lol

Royal Purple

Stony - T, 600 - Fluff, artist!Steve Rogers

Yes this is technically part of "a series of learning experiences" But that's not important to read it

-

“You know, when you asked to paint me, this is not what I had in mind.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve asks, lifting his brush as he looks up at him.

“No no, just making conversation,” Tony says quickly.

“And moving my canvas in the process.”

“Hey, you knew I was gonna talk the whole time,” Tony points out, “and if you didn’t, well, are you even my boyfriend?”

“I did, and I am,” Steve says happily, turning his attention back to the field of wildflowers he’s painting across Tony’s stomach. “So what did you think I meant?” He asks as he carefully adds flourishes of color among the shades of green.

Tony hums, letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling, and finally says, “I don’t want to say now.”

"Did it involve the phrase ‘French girls’?"

“Noo…” Tony says slowly, trying to fight down a laugh, and he feels the bed beneath them shaking as Steve chuckles fondly. He quickly gets bored of staring at the ceiling and cranes his head down again to watch the movement of the paintbrush as he says, “So, tell me about these flowers.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks distractedly.

“Well, like those purple ones, what are they called?”

"I don’t know any of the names," Steve says with a laugh, then lifts his brush and looks up when Tony makes surprised sputtering noises at him. “I just know what they look like, sort of!” He defends, “I’m working from memory here!”

“So you’re just making things up,” Tony says with an offended sniff, "and here I thought I was going to be your masterpiece."

“Hey now, I am putting thought into it here,” Steve pouts, flipping his paintbrush around to poke the end against one of the flowers near Tony’s hip. “This color is called royal purple, and I’ve been thinking that it would look perfect on you,” Steve explains, then shoots him a cheeky grin as he adds, “You know, because you’re my prince charming.”

“Boo, cheesy,” Tony says, but he can’t fight down his smile or the pleased flush rising in his cheeks.

“You love it,” Steve says confidently, grinning wider, and Tony can’t exactly argue that. Steve props himself up and then leans over to grab a different brush, his elbow digging into Tony’s thigh a little. “Here,” he says as he settles back down sprawled between Tony’s legs,“I’ll add a flower I do know the name of.”

“The suspense builds,” Tony says, dropping his head back against the pillow again.

He tries to figure out what Steve is painting from the ticklish drag of the brush, but he quickly loses track. So instead he lets his eyes fall closed and just tries not to squirm until Steve announces that he’s done.

“Alright, lets see the extent of your flower knowlege,” Tony says, lifting his head and looking down at himself. He finds a large, familiar yellow flower spread across his skin, the tips of its bright petals reaching from his ribs to his navel.

“Its a sunflower,” Steve says unnecessarily, smiling widely up at him and Tony can feel it coming as Steve adds, “because you’re my sunshine.”

"So cheesy," Tony accuses, but his voice comes out thick and he can’t resist reaching out. He gets his hand in Steve’s hair, on the curve of his shoulder, and then pulls him up into a kiss, heedless of the paint smearing between them.

“You love it,” Steve says again, smiling against his lips.

"I love you, Tony corrects, even though they both know its the same thing.

[vesora]

do not be envious of others

“You are every thing, every being, every emotion, every event, every situation. You are unity. You are infinity. You are love/light, light/love. You are. This is the Law of One.” ― Ra, Law of One: By RA an Humble Messenger

speaking from experience, i used to have a huge problem with envy. i constantly would compare my life with others. i never wanted others to fail but i wanted to be like them. which now that i think about it, it’s fucking stupid isn’t it? i constantly gave my power away because i felt i had to be perfect to be loved, so i would ignore what my body and soul were telling me and attempt to curate the perfect image of myself. thinking about it, it was also probably due to the south asian tendency to want to look the best in front of everyone haha

anyways, everyone around you is real but they’re also a projection of you and your beliefs and your assumptions. if you feel everyone is destined to live a life better than you, then you will find external evidence that they are. you have the power to create the best for yourself, yet you experience envy when you can live the exact way someone else is living. they’re not lesser or better than you, they simply are you. they are a state that you can either choose to occupy or not.

everything around you at this moment is caused by you, namely your assumptions. you would be doing yourself a disservice by envying what someone has or is feeling, because you can have exactly what they have; you can feel exactly what they feel. it’s not lost on you.

by envying and feeling lesser than, all you’re doing is perpetrating the version of you that doesn’t exist in this new reality of yours. i’m not judging you, i went through the same thing (although even if i didnt, i still wouldnt judge you)

what to do when you do feel envious?

scenario: your friend on your story posted a new chanel bag that was bought by her boyfriend who loves her so much and would do anything for her. so now you feel envy because you want someone to spoil you too.

firstly, i must say you shouldn’t rely on others or material possessions to make you feel happy but it’s still okay to want it, just don’t be dependent on it.

so, recognise what you’re feeling. are you feeling sad? lonely? poor? unlucky? how no one would love you like that? how you can never be as rich?

once you recognise, we can flip the thoughts.

know that anything your friend can have, YOU can have because the world is a blank canvas for you. all your wishes and desires are MEANT to be fulfilled.

no matter how shit you feel in the moment, it will pass.

most importantly, view the subject of your envy with love. they’re just you pushed out. you should feel happy for their happiness. you should rejoice when they’re overjoyed. you should cheer them on. your fellow man is you and you are the fellow man. once you transmute the energy from envy to love, you will feel so much lighter, because being filled with love is how you’re supposed to be and function.

don’t be envious. you can have anything you desire. want the best for everyone around you, because everyone is you pushed out. we are all consciousness.

here’s a post i saw:

[intheticklecloset]

A Brush of Inspiration (Big Windup!)

Summary: Abe struggles with an assignment in an art class he shares with Tajima and Oki, but they know just how to help inspire him.

A/N: The first full Big Windup fic I've written in ages. Honestly, I stayed away from writing full stories for this fandom because I figured no one else cared to read them like I do, but I really miss my anime baseball boys - especially my beloved Abe Takaya - so I just HAD to write for them again. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! 💖

Word Count: 1377

~~~

Abe didn’t care much for art.

He wasn’t good at it, and he didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t necessarily stressful, it was just…not his thing. Not something he sought to do on his own. The only time he’d ever pick up a paintbrush was if he had to for a project or a class.

Like right now.

The blank canvas wasn’t mocking him, necessarily. It just sat there, empty, waiting, and Abe had no clue where to even begin trying to create a nature scene, like they’d been instructed to do. Did he paint a forest? A lake? A volcano? What was easiest?

A light breeze pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced around. On his left was Tajima, tongue sticking out as he easily dragged the brush across the canvas, surprisingly focused. On his right was Oki, tapping the handle against his chin as he contemplated his own ideas.

Their teacher had chosen to take the class outside; it was fall, and the temperature was just about perfect – not so hot they’d swelter, not so cold they’d shiver holding the brushes. The leaves were changing colors, too, and Abe suspected the teacher thought they’d gain better inspiration for their nature pieces from all of the nature right there around them.

He glanced back at his white canvas. He tried to concentrate.

He drew a blank.

“Agh,” he grumbled at last, startling Oki out of his reverie. “One of you, tell me what to paint.”

“Uhh…” Oki started, just as Tajima said, “Whatever you want!”

“Whatever I want isn’t happening,” Abe grumbled, glancing down at the paint bottles around them. “I’m no good at this stuff. Just give me something, and I’ll do what I can.”

Tajima paused his brushstroke to look at him. “Let me ask you this, then: when you think of being outside, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

Abe gave him a withering look. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

“Ooo, look who’s being a grumpy jerk, as usual.” The third baseman rolled his eyes, setting his supplies down and getting to his feet. “Let me see what you’ve got…oh. You haven’t even started?”

“Like I said, I’m no good at this. I can’t just choose a nature scene; that’s why I asked for one.”

Tajima reached past him, picking up a brush with a tiny tip and twirling it around as he considered. “Well, when you think of the outdoors, do you think of camping? The beach? Mountains?”

Abe glanced at Oki, silently asking for help, but the other boy looked just as interested in his answer. He huffed. “I don’t know. I just…think of outside. It’s not like a particular spot comes to mind.”

Tajima sighed. “You’re impossibly stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be stubborn! I’m serious!”

It was at this point that Oki finally spoke up. “Whoa, Abe. Easy. He’s not trying to make you feel bad or anything.”

Abe clenched his fists, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath. He just had to be patient, like he was learning to be with Mihashi.

In the next instant the catcher had leapt out of his chair, nearly toppling the table along with all three of their canvases. His hand flew up to his left ear as he whirled on a surprised looking Tajima. “What the hell?! You can’t just do that!”

“Do what?” Oki asked, confused, but Tajima only smirked at him.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were so sensitive, Abe~”

Abe clenched his jaw, willing the blush he could feel coming on away before it manifested. He reached for the paintbrush the other boy was holding. “Give me that.”

“Ah-ah!” Tajima teased, easily evading him and flipping the tool so the handle jabbed into his ribs, making him stumble back a step. “Not so fast. I think this is just what you need.”

The catcher hesitated, glancing around. The nearest set of three classmates were set up several yards away, and they weren’t paying much attention to what the three of them were doing. Still…

“You wouldn’t. Not in class.”

Tajima winked. “You must not know me very well, then.”

What happened next took only a few seconds, though it felt like an eternity to Abe. Tajima aimed the bristle end of the brush at his neck, which made him scrunch up instinctively and try to grab onto the tool himself, only for a new set of arms to hook under his from behind and trap him. He barely had a chance to whirl around and snap at Oki – “What the hell are you doing?!” – before Tajima had lifted the hem of his white t-shirt and started dragging the dry brush across his bare waistline.

Abe nearly crumpled to the ground right then; as it was, helpless snickers slipped out that he was mortified came from such minimal stimulation. “W-Wahahait, don’t—!”

Tajima pulled back, looking frustrated. “What am I doing? This tiny thing won’t work.” He discarded the small-head brush for the largest one and returned to his earlier ministrations, this time pulling full-on giggles out of the catcher.

“Nohohohohoho! Tajima, dohohohohon’t! We’re in clahahahahahass!” Abe half-demanded, half-pleaded, eyes darting first to their nearest classmates who were finally beginning to glance their way, then back at Oki as well as he could manage. “Lehehehehet me gohohohohoho!”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” Tajima said again, grinning with genuine enthusiasm this time as he “painted” all over Abe’s waist and hips, gradually fluttering up to his ribs. “I figured someone had to really work at it to make you laugh, but this thing is super gentle and you’re already a mess!”

Abe felt the blush cover his cheeks at last, but he couldn’t even focus on that for how tickly the paintbrush was against his skin. He now found himself fighting back a squeal of laughter every time it got near his hips, shooting sharp, ticklish sensations through his entire body.

“You jeheheheheheherk! Stahahahahahahap!” Abe pleaded, squirming in Oki’s hold while Oki did his best to keep him from lashing out at the art table. He didn’t want to ruin the progress he and Tajima had made, at least.

“What about here?” Tajima asked innocently, now trailing the weapon of destruction against Abe’s neck and collar.

At this point, Abe couldn’t help the squeak he let out, nor the hysterical giggles that followed. “S-Stohohohohohohop! Plehehehehehease! Tajima, it t-tihihehehehehehehe! Tihihihihihihickles!”

“Aww, does it?” the cleanup hitter teased, dusting it under his chin and finally beneath his earlobe – the spot that had gotten Abe to jump out of his chair in the first place. “Does it really, really tickle? Hmm?”

“Gahahahahahahahaha, fuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuck! Plehehehehehease, no mohohohohohohohore!” Abe begged, nearly hurting himself trying to scrunch up protectively, his head almost parallel with his shoulder. “I give, I gihihihihihihihive!”

Oki suddenly let him go, and Abe did the only thing he could think to get away, and that was to drop to the ground in a giggly heap. To his relief, Tajima didn’t follow, but only because he could hear that their teacher had come over to gently admonish them for getting off-track.

Once she’d walked away and Abe had gotten to his feet, blushing furiously and trying to ignore the murmurs he was overhearing from the girls in his class about how cute he’d been, Tajima handed the offending paintbrush back to him with an unbothered grin.

“Maybe that’ll help you come up with something, now that you’re done being a grump,” he said good-naturedly.

Abe snatched the paintbrush and then pointedly ignored him, practically glaring at the canvas…until suddenly he could see it. A scene unfolding in his mind’s eye. He stifled a smirk, unwilling to give Tajima the satisfaction of seeing him happy after that fiasco, but he did reach for the beige-colored paint and squeezed some onto his palette.

Being tickled like that must really have brought everything into focus for him in more ways than one, because as he finally dragged the brush across his canvas for the first time this afternoon, he wondered why he hadn’t thought about this before. Really, when it came to the outdoors, there was only one place that mattered.

The baseball field.