#every piece of art is a new lesson

[l4tchk3y]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, ESPIO!!!

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual tension, eventually explicit sex, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed ass whipped ass Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing - lowkey Yandere fkn Gojo hehe. Light angst, some fluff, heavy smut, lots of teasing. This part- Making out, Gojo snorting coke off bodies, touching, teasing, and masturbation (phone sex) -WC this part- 7.2k wc

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X!!! based on Satoru from Pour it Up (Sukuna's story) You can read it alone! Reblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoyy!

Playlist- masterlist - Part two>>>

part one

If there was one thought running through the pretty head of Satoru Gojo’s, it’s not -sexy- the strippers dancing all around them. It’s not- thrilling- speaking of doing runs and deals. It’s not- addictive- even as he’s snorting coke off a pretty stripper’s thigh. It’s not- flattering even as he can clearly feel her heat, see her dilated eyes, the way she bites her lip.

Sure, he loves women.

Sure, he loves coke.

Sure, he loves his lifestyle, a mostly carefree mafia King, who lets people do most of the work for him. His best friend Suguru, his right hand man Sukuna, and his other partner Toji, the four of them ran this city. But it’s not- power that runs through Gojo’s head, though he enjoys that too.

The thought constantly in Satoru Gojo’s mind is…

Boring.

He leans back even now, sighing as the coke hits his nostrils, then he laps up that residue with a quick kiss with his pouty lips, the stripper gasps just a bit, and he touches her thigh, seeing a glimmering of slick from just that. Gojo loves to fuck, especially when it means nothing, when he can just let go and feel whatever he needs to in that moment.

But, even that, as he brushes his thumb across it, watching the pretty girl’s head fall to the side, her hips arch, even that has become…

Boring.

This meeting is boring, as he now smiles and winks at her, and she blushes, giggling and running to grab him another drink. His friends, they’re so…

Boring.

Business this, their territory that, what the Kamo family is doing, what the fucked ass Zenin are up to. What they need to do in order to produce enough to keep clientele satisfied. Who owes who money, who needs a lesson, and who needs protection- Satoru is happy to protect his town, his city, what is his as the top mafia family there is- or was.

The Gojo family.

But, as head of it now, it’s the last thing he really wants, in fact he has everything a man could want, endless amounts of money, loyal friends, women, pure cocaine that could help him forget the gnawing feeling deep inside. What is it? He tries not to think, as he crosses his ankle over his knee in his three piece suit, tugging at his skinny black tie, contemplating Sukuna’s words.

“The Zenin are more on the alert than ever.” He grumbles, sighing a bit as a girl hands him a drink, but he refrains from going near any of them really, hopelessly whipped by his new girlfriend. Satoru smirks a bit, earning Sukuna’s eye roll. “Out with it, Gojo.”

“You’re so whipped it’s really cute.” Sukuna’s jaw locks, standing, Satoru’s maniacally giggling, as Suguru and Toji sigh.

“Whipped!?”

“Completely, but I like this side of you. All soft-” Sukuna snatches Satoru up by his collar, earning Satoru’s glinting grin under red lights. “Aw, what’s wrong buddy?”

“It’s not being whipped it’s-”

“Whipped.” Toji earns Sukuna’s ire, as Suguru sighs and shakes his raven haired head, brushing it back a bit. “Sorry, but the kid’s right.”

Gojo snorts at Toji, rolling his pretty blue eyes. “A kid? I’m twenty seven, how is that a kid, old man.”

“Old man, the fuck?” Toji’s jaw locks, scar stretching over his lip, Satoru just smirks.

“Will you all focus?” Suguru asks with a sigh, smiling and lapping some salt off a stripper’s chest, before downing his shot, moaning as he gulps it.

“It’s boring. Ah, thanks, sweets.” Satoru smiles as the dancer hands him a drink now, and he sips it, wincing. “Ugh, not sweet enough.”

Satoru stands, and Sukuna raises a brow. “The fuck, you need even fruitier of a drink? Such a lil bitch drink already.”

“Fuck you, I like sweet things.” Satoru smiles and tilts the stripper’s chin up, watching a blush decorate her cheeks as he giggles. “I’ll go grab one, let you all keep being boring.”

“Oh whatever, Satoru.” He hears as he saunters off, determined to get a much sugarier concoction, as he steps through the club, familiar scenes unfolding, the glimmering lights bouncing off semi-naked bodies. Men with their wallets emptied, girls dealing coke baggies with bottles.

It was surely one of the places he enjoyed, it served as such a good front, along with the Casino he and Suguru ran, and many, many other ventures. A life constantly bustling from place to place, in the back of limos, women everywhere, but something yet again, even with the thrumming music of this club, just seems so boring.

That is, until he sees this girl, gorgeous but she doesn’t quite fit in, despite a banging body in fishnets that glimmer with little gems under the black lights, black booty shorts that showed much of those thighs, and a sexy little boostier. The lace cupping her breasts alone makes his cock twitch, just that!? A man who has naked women in front of him constantly.

But nothing is quite like when his blue eyes trail up her chest, past those pretty titties pushed up, to her face, lit up under the flashing reflections above. She’s biting her lower lip, concentrating, brows together as just a strand of hair falls out of it’s high pony tail, and she blows it away, an adorable little gesture. Her little hands are pouring bottles, as she measures this drink like a damn chemist.

But when her eyes catch his?

When your eyes catch his?

Sparkling and open, just a little nervous as you eye him, there’s something that sparks then, this…

He’s not bored.

Not at all.

You see him, this tall statuesque man, brightly glowing damn near with silvery white hair, but his eyes even in the dark, smoky club are so intense it makes you breathless. And he’s looking right at you, a bright pink drink in one of his giant hands, lithe body frozen just for a moment before he moves. You wait with bated breath as he does, as he steps closer, shooting you a little smirk.

His eyes glint with something deep- at first he seemed detached when you’d seen him, but now, swirling storms for eyes, model cheekbones even more accentuated as he smiles at you. Plump, glossy lips and long snowy lashes complete the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, perhaps even prettier than a painting, a silly thing for a bartender to think.

He leans with his elbows on the marble bar, tilting his head, blue eyes drinking you in, and you feel it like a physical touch. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“How do you know?” You manage to murmur, trying to be teasing, but his intensity makes your breath catch.

“I’d remember you. I’m sure.” His words like some sultry purr, as his eyes caress your body, to the point you almost moan.

Fuck, who is he?

“I am new.” You say softly, he hands you his glass then, for a brief moment your fingers brush against each other, and Satoru feels this shock, like static, as he keeps his fingers over yours.

He vividly pictures it then, having you, but fuck not having you… he wanted to have you in every fucking way. Feral from fingers brushing when he just had a stripper all over him. His lips part as he sees your cheeks heat up, your tentative and sweet little smile, while lights dance across your skin, the thrumming of music fading to the background.

It’s like some fucking movie, in slow motion, as your smile melts him. “How about you make me a drink, huh sweetheart? Ya any good at it?”

“How do you like it… Mr…”

“Gojo.” You blink in recognition, everyone knows the Gojo family, though heavy in crime, they protect people, they keep their town safe. They’re insanely powerful, and you can feel his power, as he shrugs a broad shoulder, snowy lashes lowering over his gaze.

“Mr. Gojo…”

“And you are?” When you say your name, he repeats it, softly, and you’ve never fucking heard anything better. “Well, let’s see what you can make, pretty bartender.”

Pretty.

The word is used often, but from him? Your tummy is full of rapidly flapping wings of several butterflies. You clear your throat a bit, taking the glass now. “What kind of drink, Mr. Gojo?”

“Something sweet… sweet as… I bet you taste.” You barely hear the words at the end, and you blink in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Huh?” He grins then, throwing his head back, resting a hip on the bar as he studies you harder. “You’re cute.”

“Cute, hmm.” He just grins, as you make his drink, mixing every sweet concoction you know, he sips it then, moaning and fluttering his lashes.

“Perfect.”

“You’re special, the first drink I made.”

Satoru leans far too close over that bar, as he eyes you, and he knows then, he has to fucking have you. Fuck he’d not even let you leave his damn bed, keep you pinned under him, picturing how sweet you must taste, god how you even smell when he inhales near you is addictive.

“Are you… sniffing me, Mr. Gojo?”

He smirks a bit, but inwardly?

God you smell good.

“Perfume? Is it… Versace bright Crystal?”

“How would you know that?” He’s just grinning, sipping the drink with the thin little black straw, as you wonder just… who is he?

“I’ll see you around, sweets, hmm?” You nod curiously, narrowing your eyes just a bit, sighing as he walks away, you don’t see him when he eyes you again, before stepping back into the velvet red of the VIP room.

“Took you long enough.” Toji grumbles, and Satoru looks at Sukuna then, one question in his mind, along with one thought.

The boredom?

Gone.

“Who’s the new girl?” Sukuna turns towards him, a smirk on his face, which immediately changes as his girlfriend steps in right next to Satoru, he swears Sukuna has heart eyes. Satoru looks at her as she smiles brightly, giving him a hug first, making Satoru grin at Sukuna when he scowls.

“Satoru!”

“Hey pookie how are you?” He smiles and pats her head. Satoru and Sukuna's girl had become close. “How's it living with this psycho?”

“She loves it.” Sukuna huffs and drags her away, earning the soft laughter of everyone in the room as she's sat right on his lap, brushing his hair back affectionately. Strong, tough, big ass Sukuna was just a little kitten for her. “Tell him about the new girl, brat.”

“Oh!” She repeats the name, your name, and Satoru brightens up. Sipping the sweet drink you concocted and exhaling at how good it is. “She's a friend from way back, she got into… a hard situation. So Kuna hired her because he's sweet.”

“Tch.” He glares at her as she giggles, and suddenly Satoru wonders even more about you. What situation? What did you need it for? “You like her huh?”

“Just curious, she seems…” Different, exciting, beautiful sure but there was something so intriguing, especially about her touch.

“Pretty?” Toji says with a grin, and Satoru sighs.

“Duh, just curious… she makes the sweetest drink I've ever had.”

“The way to Satoru’s heart.” Suguru says with a chuckle. Satoru comes back to sit next to him, shaking his head when a girl comes to him

“No thanks, love.” The room collectively blinks at him now, as Satorus pretty eyes rest on Sukuna’s girl, a dancer herself… well somewhat. It's not like Sukuna let's her leave his sight much. “She's your friend?”

“Yes from high school, she left and did her own thing but…” She bites her lower lip. “Um, her mom got into some… bad debts with people, gambling.”

“Oh, she's like Toji.” Sukuna mutters, earning a middle finger from the gruff man, even as he's kissing up a girl's neck.

“Fuck off.” He grumbles, and Satoru would laugh, but he's even more intrigued. “Paid my debts, shithead.”

“Shithead!?”

“So she came to help?” Satoru asks her, and she nods, smiling just a little sadly.

“Her mom left her with a house about to get foreclosed. And debt with… I can't get into too much more. But she works full time and it's only enough for bills, not the debt.”

“So she's working like what, 60 plus hours?” Satoru asks, and she nods with a frown.

“I'm hoping here she'll make enough to get it settled? Kuna may help negotiate-”

“Who is it?”

“Why so curious?” She asks, as her eyes light up. “Oh… you like her.”

“I just… am a curious boy mmkay pookie?” She giggles and then Suguru snorts in laughter next to Satoru.

“He's blushing.”

“Am not! Just… something about her seemed… different. I was curious. Is she…”

“Single? Satoru Gojo is asking that?” Toji says then, and Satoru’s eyes narrow.

“Shut it old man.”

Toji’s jaw tenses. “I swear to-”

“Ask her yourself, hmm?” Sukunas girl says, Satoru sighs, because for the first time ever he feels a little…

Nervous?

Satoru Gojo is nervous, hands sweaty, blushing over you.

Who are you?

“I mean can we… get her in the next meeting?”

“Sure lover boy.” Sukuna says with a chuckle. “Want her on your lap?”

“Maybe. Yes.” The room's atmosphere is just a little lighter, as they finish and Satoru finally heads out for the night, turning a corner and bumping right into you, causing you to almost fall, but he catches you with those big hands, steadying you carefully.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Gojo.” You murmur softly, god your voice is pretty, it's soft and sensual. He could listen to it all day- wildly wondering how it sounds when you’d cry out his name, to the point he’s just standing there for a moment, as your eyes meet, and he notices now, you have dark circles under them. It seems whatever concealer you had faded by now.

“You headed home?” He asks, seeing you’re now wearing a jacket over that bustier, and you nod a bit, hiding a yawn.

“Yeah, I have to work at like eight am.”

Gojo blinks now, peering at his silver Rolex. “It’s like two am, what sleep are you gonna get?”

“A couple hours I hope.” Satoru holds the door open for you now, and you give him another pretty smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll walk you to your car, unless you want big Jim to.” He points to a giant broad shouldered man, you giggle, looking back at Gojo, who has a little mischievous glow in his eyes now.

“I’ll let you walk me, thank you.” He slings his jacket over a shoulder, holding it with one finger, the other in his pocket, as the breeze gently blows around the two of you in the quiet night.

“How many nights are you working?” He asks, you tilt your head a bit as you come to your car, a little one good on gas, really the only reason you got it.

“I’ll be working Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Do you come here often?” Satoru snorts now, leaning down over you, free hand against your car as he leans, making your heart hammer in your chest at the proximity, eying his glossy lips.

“That a pick up line, sweets?”

“What!? Oh shit… it sounded like one!?” You cover your face in embarrassment, and he chuckles now.

“Teasing you is all. I do come here a lot, I know who I’ll be getting drinks from then. That was the best one I’ve had.”

“What no way!” He just grins as you lower your hands, a little bit of your hair falling out of your pony tail again, he brushes it away casually, tucking it behind your ear, his cool fingertips making your skin tingle. He watches the hitch of your breath, feels the heat of your cheek as you look at him, wide eyed.

“You kept blowing it out of the way.” He teases softly, fingers lingering on your cheek for just a moment.

“You noticed that?” You ask softly, feeling your heart thrumming with excitement despite your exhaustion.

“Noticed you also bite your lip too much.” He brushes a thumb over it briefly, shooting desire hot through your tummy.

You hadn’t even thought of sex or intimacy, as tired as you have been, working full time and taking overtime constantly, finally having this job as well, you haven’t even considered your needs. So tired you barely get horny, but something about this… Mr. Gojo, it’s making you ache to yank him by that tie, pull him in.

Do you even remember how to be seductive?

Why are you thinking like this?

“Do I?” You ask, all you manage really, and he nods just a bit, dying to kiss the indentations on your plump lower lip.

“Sure you’re okay to drive? I have a driver.”

“Oh no I’m good, I didn't have a drink or anything. But thank you, I hope… I hope I see you again… um to make more drinks?”

You’re cute.

Fuck you’re cute.

“You’ll see me around.” He assures you, opening the door then, and you exhale a bit, sliding into your seat and starting the car. “Have a good night, bartender.”

“Bartender huh?” He winks and you wave just a bit, leaving Satoru whistling just a bit, shaking his head, unable to figure out just what this is, this feeling, as Suguru walks out, yawning and stretching.

“Oh shit, that look.”

“What look?” He asks, as they walk to their sleek black car, the driver ready holding the door open for them.

“That obsessive Satoru look.”

“Oh psh.” He rolls his pretty blue eyes, but Suguru just chuckles.

“She is pretty.”

Satoru scowls at his best friend now, who’s just smirking at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“I’m not… obsessive.”

“Mmm, alright Satoru.” He pats Satoru’s shoulder as he looks at his phone now, typing in your name casually of course- to find your socials, and any pictures of you he can save.

******

After busting your ass at your normal 9 to 5, you ran your mom’s interest payment to the intimidating Mei Mei, she’s smiling cooly, so fucking fake it makes your skin crawl, raising a brow under her light blue hair as she sees the amount. “Oh, darling, that's double, hmm?”

“I had the extra, took another job.” You yawn as you peek at your phone, realizing you have to get ready for the bar soon.

“I see, should I charge you more for each installment, since you’re doing so well now?” You blink now, shaking your head and earning her soft laugh, as she stands, tall and curvaceous, hips swaying as she tilts your chin up, long nails brushing your skin. “I was kidding, that face!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Mei. I swear I’ll try to do double but could we keep to the current please?” She nods a bit then, smiling and sauntering back to her desk, sitting on it and crossing her leg, blue dress riding up just a bit.

“I don’t mind helping, as long as you keep paying. You sure are a lot better than your mother. How is she?”

Your jaw sets. The moment your mother left town, and left you with all this debt after begging you to come back, under false pretenses, your life had become an endless cycle of pure work. Work, work, work, and nothing else, that was it.

Work. Bills. Interest.

Work, more work, more interest.

The only break had been meeting him, at the bar, Mr. Gojo.

“Smiling, darling?” You clear your throat, shaking your head.

“Just happy I’m getting this done.”

“That’s the spirit, see you next week.” She now hops down, dismissing you with a little wave of her fingers, as you hurriedly leave, leaning against the door of the fancy building as you damn near feel sick, sighing and trying to gather yourself.

You want to resent your mother, want to hate her even, but you don’t have it in you. There’s just one thing on your mind, work, work, and work. The handsome man at the bar may be a beautiful distraction, but he’d surely just stay that, the little bit of serotonin you need.

******

“On your lap?” You blink a bit, as Satoru’s grinning, leaning over the bar later that night, looking far too sexy in that pinstripe suit of his.

“So usually the strippers do, but I’d really like you too, and you will make more than you do in an hour. How much do you usually make?” You murmur a number, and he hands you hundreds instead.

“You can’t!”

“I’m taking your work time, I damn well will. Here, take it sweets.” You sigh, stepping out from behind the bar, crossing your arms under your breasts and looking up at him.

“I just, sit on your lap?”

“Well, you may have to… let me snort coke off you?” You’re a blushing mess now, and he’s laughing softly, brushing your hair back just a bit. “Just a little coke.”

“You’re kind of insane, Mr. Gojo.”

“I’ve been told. Come on, what do you say?”

So… that’s how you ended up here, in the velvety red VIP room, Toji, Sukuna, Suguru and Satoru of course are there, you see your friend on Sukuna’s lap, the lifesaver who got you this job, who waves from where she’s on his lap. You smile nervously, as Satoru sits, patting his thigh then.

“C’mon, got a seat right here.” He says with a wink, and the next few minutes you’re finding it impossible to focus.

You can feel it, Satoru’s muscled thigh against your heat, pussy throbbing around nothing at this proximity, as Sukuna, Suguru and Toji all talk amongst themselves, Toji and Suguru have stripper’s on their laps, Sukuna has your friend- his girl- on his. And you’re right here, with Satoru’s big hand against your waist, fingers wrapping around the gentle curve of it.

You try to bite back a moan at just how good it feels, and you embarrassingly wonder if he can tell, if he can feel how wet you are, surely not you hope. He’s calmly talking as he shifts his thigh just a bit, and you have to hold in your gasp, your booty shorts aren’t enough of a damn barrier, surely, not for how his thigh presses up for a moment.

“You good, sweetheart?” He murmurs to you softly, and you turn your attention to him, blinking just a bit, lips parted.

“Huh?” Is all you manage, his full lips tilt up just a bit as he tilts his head, his other hand now on your fishnet clad thigh.

“Lots of heavy topics, too much?” He’s so sweet you think, as if the problem isn’t you’re soaking your shorts, and no you didn’t even have panties on to try to help whatsoever, in such a hurry you hadn’t washed any and said fuck it.

Big mistake.

“Oh, a little bit.” You are such a liar, but what do you say? Yes, Satoru, your thigh is making me want to grind on it, to make myself cum like some pathetic-

“Try to tone 'em out, it’s what I do.” He says with a wink, and you laugh softly, breathless, as if you’d heard a word any of them said, no… your pulse is racing too loudly to hear them.

“Got it, Mr. Gojo.” He takes the little baggie one of the strippers has then, brushing your hair back off your shoulder, watching goosebumps raise across your neck, your collar bone so inviting he wants to bury his face against it.

“The Zenin are now a bigger issue than ever, they perceive that Sukuna literally took Naoya’s girl and his kid.” You frown a bit, looking over at Sukuna, who’s gripping his girl so tightly, scowling, while Toji speaks. “I know it’s not that way, but it’s what we’re up against.”

“So we fucking take em all out.” Sukuna throws back a shot, and his girl shakes her head.

“Kuna…”

“Don’t you fuckin’ Kuna me.”

“They’re cute.” Satoru murmurs, you nod in agreement, as you watch her make this giant man melt.

“They are.”

“Is right here alright?” His thumb brushes your collarbone, and you flush nervously, eyes lowering shyly as you nod. “Never done anything like this, hmm?’

“No, not at all.” You look around as the other men are doing so, however, and tilt your neck just a bit. “But I trust you.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs, you exhale, when he taps some of the ivory powder across your skin. “Stay still for me, pretty?”

Pretty.

God when he calls you pretty.

Your heart pounds out of its chest damn near when he’s gently lining it up, one hand gently brushing up your back as he leans over with a rolled one hundred, snorting it right off your skin. Something about it, snorting coke off your body, makes Satoru even harder than he already was, especially when he hears the softest of whimpers from your pretty throat.

“Fuck…” He wonders if he says it out loud, but you don't respond, still as he had commanded you to be, making him wonder wildly just how much you’d listen.

If he told you to hold these sexy thighs open, if he told you to bend over and arch your ass, if he said get on your knees. Would you obey him?

Once the powder is up his nose, his snowy lashes flutter shut, letting it run through his system, and he moans just ever so softly, before lapping up the residue from your throat. Your hand grips his hair unconsciously, without even thinking, hips shifting so he feels that heat on his thigh, making him leak precum.

You’re trembling just a bit as the tip of his tongue slips up the curve of your neck, a hand slipping up your thigh, thumb pressing under one of the diamond openings of the stockings, brushing bare skin. Your breasts are damn near in his face as they rise and fall in the thin black halter you’re wearing, nipples poking out with how they’re tightening.

He presses a little kiss on your neck with plump lips, and instead of smirking at you like he would, he can’t form a coherent thought - all he can think is he needs you, beyond a want. He needs to bite your neck and mark you up for him so beautifully, so much so none of that concealer you wear would work, no you’d have to take days off, finally relax so good with him rubbing every inch.

It’s like the room fades for you, you can’t remember there are strippers, that there are mobsters, that your friend is there, it’s all this man that’s practically a stranger, who you for some reason trust to snort this powder off you. His lips linger far too long, before he pulls back, blue eyes so dark they’re black, his pupils dilated, with a mix of cocaine and desire.

“Woah, you need the room?” Toji mentions, earning your blush, but Satoru can’t stop staring, at that vein in your neck just pulsing, aching to bite it, like some psychotic feral vampire. He feels things right now he never has, not the casual desire, not the ease of having a woman, he wants to bite, kiss and lick every goddamn inch of this sexy body shifting again on him.

“We’re actually almost finished if you can focus a moment, Satoru.” Suguru says as he pinches his nose a bit, tilting his head back and letting his own line hit.

Satoru clears his throat, gently pulling you just a bit more up his hard thigh, smiling at them all. “Go on, finish the boring shit.”

“It’s not exactly boring, Satoru. Considering we need to meet with them.”

“The Zenin?” Suguru nods, and Satoru’s jaw clenches.

“Let’s meet with the Kamo family first.” Sukuna suggests, pressing a kiss on his own girl’s neck, as she strokes back his pink locks, making Satoru ache for this from you, for everything from you. “We can see if potentially they’ll be on our side.”

“Shit, it’s a good idea.” Toji sips on his beer now, laughing as he presses it between his stripper thighs, grinning lewdly.

“I’m down for that first if everyone is in agreement. Satoru?” Suguru asks, and Satoru tries to focus on all this boring shit, when he’s much rather finger the slick he feels gathering against his expensive slacks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll set it up.” He mumbles, and you look at him, your eyes dilated like his, but without any drug, it’s just pure want. Fucked up off his energy. “I can send everyone the details.”

“Sounds good.” Everyone gets up now, and Satoru holds you down just a bit longer, as they’re laughing and talking, heading out to the bar, he turns you to the side just a bit, tilting up your chin, hair falling down your back, brushing against where he has his arm against your back.

“You alright, sweets? That’s a lot to handle.” You blink just a bit, flushing as you shyly nod. “Ya sure?”

“I didn’t hear much.” You admit, and he exhales, his hand slipping back up your thigh, waiting for you to say something, to push off his hand, but you just watch him, eyeing him carefully, legs spreading just a bit. “I was distracted.”

“Yeah? By what, hmm?” You look away, so shy, he chuckles, leaning even closer to you. “You’re so cute.”

“You say that.”

“You are.”

“These dark circles sexy?”

“On you.”

“Mr. Gojo…” You lean closer yourself now, shifting your hips just a bit, earning his soft moan as he feels that wetness pouring against him.

“Need something, love? A thank you?”

“You gave me hundreds to be here, it’s already too generous. Why… um did you?” You ask curiously, and he looks down a bit, at your lips.

“I heard you work a lot, and can’t miss shifts. I didn’t wanna make you lose out on tips.”

“That’s so…” You’re blown away then. “I really appreciate it, but you wouldn’t have had to pay me to sit on your lap.”

“Oh yeah?” You bite your lower lip, shaking your head, when his hand slips even higher, and he eats up every bit of your expression, like you’re just as drunk off him as he is off you.

“I’m sure no girl has ever needed to get paid on your lap, Mr. Gojo.”

“My name, it’s Satoru.” You brush your hair back a bit, letting silken strands flow through your fingers, as Satoru’s hand is at the apex of your thighs, his thumb brushing right against where you’re soaked, eliciting a soft whine.

“C-can I call you that, though?”

“You can…” His thumb brushes your clit now, and you moan out loud, covering your mouth, but it’s too late, he heard it, thumb pressing where you’re sticky and so hot he can’t take it. “You’re soaked, baby girl.”

“Embarrassing… I’m so-”

“No, fuck it’s sexy.” You’re blushing further, so overheated as your thighs spread, and he moans, lips an inc from yours. “Satoru, say it.”

“Sa-”

“Are you coming Satoru?” Suguru peers in, and you quickly hop up, as Satoru considers killing his best friend. “We gotta - shit… didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no it’s fine!” You’re quickly walking out, and Satoru literally has to turn and adjust himself, groaning, head falling back.

“Shit, my bad Satoru.”

“I’ll kill you, Suguru.” He grumbles, shoving at his friend just a bit. “Let me say goodbye to her first.”

“Calling it a goodbye?”

“Fuck off, Sugu.” He’s shoving his friend, as he catches sight of you rushing to the locker rooms.

You’re splashing cool water on your neck, on your face, you don’t even recognize yourself in that mirror, with the desire making your face look like you’re lit off your ass, like you’re drugged from that cocaine on your skin. You can’t even be thinking of this, not with who you’re dealing with right now, not with all your shit, all the work you have to do.

Satoru’s beautiful but…

You’ve never been one to fuck randoms, you’re unfortunately a person that needs feelings, and fuck if you don’t already have feelings that make no sense for someone you barely know. Something about him beyond model good looks, beyond that clear confidence, something about his touch sending those shocks through you, shocks that make no sense.

The door opens, and instead of one of the girls, or even Sukuna or Toji, it’s Satoru, disheveled hair spiked up, his eyes bright fucking blue in the lights of the locker room, looking right at you. You turn back to the mirror, hastily fixing your hair, trying to act normal.

“Leaving for the night?” You ask, voice hoarse just a bit, as you ache to say so much more, but he’s walking to you, long strides, until he’s right in front of you, cupping your face with one of those big hands, exhaling sweet cool breath against your lips.

“I want you to sit on my lap during the next meeting, yeah?”

“Satoru…”

“I’ll pay more.”

“What!? Why?” You ask again, curiously, and he sighs.

“I like you there.” His vulnerability shocks you. “Meetings, business, life? It’s so fucking boring. With you it’s…”

“Different?”

“Yes, different. I can’t really… will you?” You nod then, shyly, earning his big grin. “Also, I want you to take a day off.”

“What? Off here?”

“No, your normal job. Here, for next time.” He hands you hundreds, and you shake your head, but he takes it and slips it right in your bra, backs of his fingers brushing against your breasts, eliciting a whimper. “Shit…”

“You can’t give me all this. And… taking a day off, I-”

“Fine then leave early or some shit. Just… you look like you could use a little break?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me for working a lot.” You frown a bit, and Satoru imagines just how little you’ll ever have to do, when you’re his.

“I admire it, shit. Swear I don’t feel bad for you. Just know, that’s pennies to me, okay? And I enjoyed your… I enjoyed you there.”

You smile a bit, as the cash presses against your skin, and you step closer. “Can I hug you?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

You both giggle, and you’re looking down shyly. “Just a kiss?” Satoru presses you against the counter, his hard body hot against yours.

“Pick which lips you want kissed.” His voice is husky, as he presses a thigh between yours, and you can’t stop the soft cry that elicits from your mouth.

“Satoru…”

“I’m serious. I can put a kissy on each lips, baby girl.” He’s tilting your chin up, and you lick your lower lip nervously, as swirling blue eyes drink you in.

“Why me? You can have… anyone.”

“You’re not just anyone. But also… have you seen you?”

“Yes, silly. I look tired.”

“Psh, pick it, where you want your thank you kiss.” You brush against his thigh, and he leans down, hungrily kissing you, and then it’s over for Satoru.

When your lips, so plush and pliant under his part just a bit, your cute little gasp, his tongue slips in past the seam, and you’re whining out softly, hands clinging to his dress shirt, earning him pressing that thigh harder. You’re grinding on it, fucking shameless as your tongues meet, at first tentative on your end, but Satoru consumes your damn mouth, your everything.

He’s moaning, damn near whimpering, a hand entangling in your hair, pulling just a bit as you roll your hips. “Shit, gonna grind on my leg like that? Even wetter than that whole meeting, huh?”

“Shh, w-wasn’t…” He smiles against your lips, kissing you deeper and deeper, as you grind, damn near about to cum from the friction.

“I can take care of-”

“Ahem.” Toji and Sukuna walk in then, and Satoru exhales, resting his forehead for a moment, against yours, as your breaths mingle, thoughts wild.

Satoru Gojo is dangerous, right?

He runs the Gojo Mafia, right?

Then why is he so sweet, so caring, so… fuck, he’s thoughtful. And every bit of his danger makes you crave him even more, like a moth drawn to his bright light, the beauty of him was just a small part of it. You ached to be consumed by him, fucked until you have no more thoughts.

Not all the damn money you owe Mei Mei.

Not the responsibilities thrown all over you from your mom.

You want to be thrown in every position for this man, submit yourself to anything he wants, and the thoughts are making your brain hurt. You take a shaky breath as he pulls back finally, easing a thigh back when you see it, a slight darkening, of where you’d soaked him with your cunt. Panicking, he just turns a bit, brushing it with his thumb, putting it to his lips.

“Shit, ya’ll need a room?” Sukuna asks, as Satoru’s eyes flutter shut, and his cheeks hollow as he sucks you off him.

“We got VIP rooms, ya know. Should charge Gojo for em.” Toji teases, but Satoru is gripping your face again, making you feel like the only damn thing in the world.

“I’ll be here Thursday, take that next day off, yeah?” You nod shyly, as he then whips out his phone, handing it to you. “In case you need anything.”

“Oh… thank you.” You scan the little code, entering his number in your phone with a shaky hand, and he smiles, eyes lingering.

“Night, sweets.”

“Night, Satoru.” You murmur, as he walks out then, you damn near collapse on this counter, head leaned back, finally alone for a moment.

Satoru Gojo, who is he.

Is he the guy that runs with people like Mei, or is he different? He feels different, he seems different…

Later that night you can’t get him out of your damn mind, tossing and turning, you only have a couple hours to sleep, ever, and you can’t be spending this just thinking of Satoru all damn night. You finally bite your lower lip, shooting him a little text, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up.

You: Good night, Mr. Gojo.

Satoru: You know it’s Satoru, hmm? Can’t sleep?

You: A lot on my mind… but thank you for today, you didn’t have to.

Satoru: That’s nothing to thank me over. But, you’re welcome, have sweet dreams… of me.

You giggle then, shaking your head, and biting your thumb just a bit.

You: Only if you dream of me.

Satoru: You think I haven’t already?

You cover your face, damn near squealing, fuck he makes you feel like some little high school girl, giggling as she hears her crush on the phone. Your hands are shaking just a bit as you contemplate what to say. You are terrified to bring anyone into the shitshow that’s your life, your mom coming in and out, taking money and disappearing, your brother coming too, begging for money.

You have a mess of a life, with a cruel woman after you, threatening you constantly, and you’re scared to open up, to be happy, even for a moment. But when he texts you next, you can’t stop your heart from racing.

Satoru: You know, masturbation relaxes me, knocks me right out.

You: Oh does it now?

Satoru: Try it and let me know next time you see me.

As Satoru speaks, he’s picturing you, and he can’t stop himself from stroking his cock slowly, up and down, as he’s riding in the back of his limo, finally all alone, fuck just your three dots typing and the memory of your taste are more than enough. His head falls back as he does, stroking his cock up and down, twisting and whimpering just so, when you finally type back.

You: Hmm… it is a little relaxing.

Satoru almost loses his shit, picturing how pretty your pussy must look.

Satoru: Giving it a shot? Listening, like a good girl?

Good girl, shit. You’re whining as you run circles over your clit, and you can’t type anymore, and Satoru notices, calling you now, shocking you. “S-Satoru?”

“Lemme give you pointers.” He says huskily, and you hear him, grunting just so, making you cry out.

“What? Are you…”

“So you get good sleep, you know- f-fuck. Rub little circles on that clit, hmm sweetheart?”

“Fuck…”

“You cuss?” He asks with a breathless laugh, hearing your whine on the phone, as your fingers get slippery. “If I wasn’t going out of town I’d come right over, make sure you’re doing it right.”

“Oh, would you? What if… I w-wasn’t, ngh!” Shit, Satoru’s about to bust just hearing your breathy cry.

“I’d have to show you how, baby girl. For your sleep, you know. Maybe use my fingers, bet yours don’t hit hmm? So tiny.”

“Mnh… Y-you would?”

“Let you use my thigh.”

“Satoru!”

“My face?”

“Fuck!” You’re screaming out as your little clit twitches, just edging him to moan, pumping cum all down his hand, he groans at it, at the flooding of sensations, his head falling forward, seeing the endless white cum spurting out his pretty pink tip. “S-sorry, I don’t usually cuss I s-swear… or d-do this…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you deserve some relaxation, hmm?” His murmur makes you ache for him, as you wonder…

What is this?

He just makes you let go.

You exhale now, struggling to right yourself, adjusting your shorts, sticky just a bit, as Satoru’s wiping himself um, moaning softly. “I’ve never done this.”

“You’re so cute. So fun to corrupt.”

“Oh!”

He’s laughing softly, zipping himself back up, as he aches for you, more and more. “I’ll see you soon, maybe I’ll show you some pointers.”

“You’re so sure of yourself hmm?”

“I’m Satoru Gojo, baby girl.” But he’s not sure of himself, he’s not sure he’d last long inside your cunt, god he imagines it’s perfect, he can’t get it out of his head, those moans, those whines, that liquid heat on his thigh.

“Satoru, wherever you’re going, be safe.” Your thoughtfulness touches him then, sure he has some friends, but no one says - stay safe. He’s momentarily stunned, hearing your yawn then, smiling at it.

“Of course I will be. See, masturbation, the cure.”

You giggle, shaking your head as you yawn once more, feeling your eyelids get heavy. “What’s this… mean?”

“That you want me so bad-”

“Satoru!”

“It means you’ll sleep good.” You both laugh softly, and you sigh then.

“Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night, sweets.” He waits for you to end the call, covering his face now, as his cock throbs with aftershocks, and he knows good and damn well it’s not the last time he’d jerk off to you tonight. No, it’s definitely not, he’s in the shower later at the hotel he’s staying at for the night, wishing he could just say fuck all this, and fuck his pretty bartender.

As he lays in the fancy hotel bed, he’s stroking it again, picturing how you’d ride him, how you’d bounce on his cock. The next morning even, he’s stroking it again, until his cock fucking hurts, remembering those moans, those whimpers, those sweet little cries.

Satoru must have you.

A/N - hehe I know it's SO LATE- I'll reblog in the morning <3 I hope you all enjoy- I'm thinking 6 parts or so on this onneee, there is gonna be a lot of drama and a lot of Toru being whipped- this is kinda the intro chap. See you in the comments my lovesss

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[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

[jaellyfishh]

The Corner Where We Met · Part 2

part 1

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher! paige

content warning: initial slowburn, mention of blood, smut

word count: 6K

It was a dry week since Paige and Azzi’s last encounter, after all, the school days required a lot more of their time as the academic year advanced. Fudd had been too busy filling in her colleagues' place in high school art class, who had called off sick from a ‘stomach bug’. This was not a rare occurrence seeing that it would happen multiple times throughout her four years at Moore. Fudd feared Principal Auriemma would be in talks to lay her colleague off soon and she might have to fill in her position for a while before they could find a replacement.

Recruiting was not going so well at Moore as of late. With the exception of our new PE teacher, of course, Azzi thought.

Speaking of Paige Bueckers, she stood well on business having done tremendous changes on the uninteresting routines and archaic equipment of her PE classes, picking up the pieces from where the previous teachers left off. She used the best of her network to outsource companies and connect with sporting organisers, all in the hopes of keeping the kids' curiosity and passion for PE well and alive. And it showed. Their excitement buzzing during every lesson before PE, much to some of the teachers’ dismay.

Prrrrrrt!

The sound of the whistle rang as Paige and the two other teachers beside her stopped the warmups, the crowd of kids now in a stand-still scattered across the gym.

The two-day basketball and volleyball tryouts for Moore’s annual October Sports Day had just begun and the gym has welcomed an influx of what seemed like almost half the school already. The students were in much anticipation over the week, with the participation list for other sports activities which Paige had pinned on their bulletin board even being overflown with scribbles of names past the margin.

“Alright, that was good! Now, listen up! Middle schoolers will go to the left side of the court with Ms. Edwards, high schoolers will go to the right with Ms. Mühl! We’re gonna do a couple of drills - dribbling, passing and shooting! If you don’t play your best, you won’t make it with the rest! Let’s move it!”

Obviously, Paige knew they wouldn't have enough students for a team even if they wanted to weed the worse ones out, but anything to scare them into doing better - as Paige loved to strategise. Her role today was to oversee the entire tryouts, making sure everything was on schedule. She recruited Aaliyah Edwards from Geography and Nika Mühl from History after digging information on their past [having a normal conversation] during their lunch breaks and finding out they played basketball as a hobby.

Principal Auriemma was able to coordinate with his VP, Christine ‘CD’ Dailey, to arrange free periods for the three teachers in the days where tryouts were being held.

And somewhere in the scheduling, Fudd had her free periods aligned with theirs.

A certain curly brunette peeked her head into the gym with curiosity. She could recognise her students from a distance, the faces of the middle school boys and girls smiling while throwing airballs with all their might. Her eyes panned to the blonde observing them, whose head shook in disapproval. Azzi stifled a snicker.

She slowly sneaked her way inside, dodging a few basketballs and turbulent students before she was within arms reach of Bueckers. It seems the taller woman didn’t notice as she was too laser-focused on the mayhem unfolding in front of her, the loudness of the shoes squeaking and basketballs bouncing overstimulating her.

“Hey,” Azzi poked at Paige’s arm, startling her this time. The taller woman’s expression went from displeasure to a softer, surprised smile.

“Ms. Fudd, long time no see. I had to think you’ve been avoiding me,” Bueckers jokes, trying to contain her excitement.

Azzi sweetly scoffed while giving her a stare. “I thought you needed your space, you know, being overwhelmed by all this stalking.”

Bueckers laughed at her satire. “So you finally admit it?”

“They were your words, not mine”. Azzi pointed to the crowd. “How’s it going?”

“It’s…going. They’re doing their best, alright?” Paige scrunched her face as Azzi laughed. “What are you doing here, anyways? Came to see me?”

“Oh, please, don’t start,” Azzi rolled her eyes. “I have a free period until lunch. I figured I could see how my kids were doing. They sounded really excited to participate during class, you know? I think you’re making great changes for them here”

Paige stared at Azzi with a proud smile. “I’m honestly so glad to hear that. If I keep this up, can I expect these kinda visits for the kids more often?

And yet another one of Paige’s flirtatious antics, not that Azzi minded anyways. In fact, she did miss them a fair bit.

“Don’t you ever get tired of doing that?” Fudd smiled at Paige, who was licking her lips as she stared back.

“Depends who I do it to”

As the pair exchanged flirtatious words, distracted in their own world. They didn’t notice a basketball hurling towards them.

“MS. FUDD WATCH OUT!” Ms. Watkins yelled, but it was too late.

Paige couldn’t react quick enough to catch the ball before the momentum struck Azzi smack centre on her face causing her to stumble backwards. In a flash, Beuckers was able to pull her into her chest before she could fall.

Azzi’s face grimaced, her nose painful from both scrunching and relaxing. She was in shock, her expression unreadable as her brain tried to register what had just happened.

“Azzi, are you okay?” Paige softly asked with a sense of urgency, shaking her body only once to wake her senses up.

“I-“

Azzi could only croak before her nose started bleeding.

With widened eyes and a chorus of gasps echoing the gym, Paige immediately whipped out a handkerchief from one of her pockets and pressed it over Azzi’s nose.

“Pinch your nostrils and breathe through your mouth. I’m taking you to the clinic”

And before anyone knew it, the tall blonde swooped Azzi off her feet, carrying her bridal style as the adrenaline rushed through her blood. Paige quickly marched out the doors determinedly, the woman in her arms muffling an ‘I’m so sorry’ before the blonde was quick to dismiss it.

“It’s okay, everyone! Ms. Fudd will be in good hands. Don’t worry!” Was all the pair could hear faintly by Ms. Edwards before they were completely out of everyone’s sight.

Up the front of the hallway near the entrance, Paige frantically knocked on the glass window of the school clinic, the inside of the room blocked by horizontal blinds. As the door swung open, the blonde immediately pushed her way inside. The school’s nurse gasped at the sudden action, watching Bueckers lay Azzi gently upright on the bed, her arms still steadying her upper body.

“Ms. Bueckers? A-Azzi?”

“Nurse Williams, could you grab a pack of ice, please?” A concerned look spread across Paige’s face.

“Of course! Lower her head slightly forward,” The uniformed lady instructed before grabbing an ice pack from the freezer.

The two worked in quick tandem attending to the injured Fudd. And soon after five minutes had passed, the situation stabilised as the bleeding had come to a stop.

“You guys are doing great,” a dazed Azzi could only mumble, wiping her nose clean with a new towel. Paige was seated next to her, her hand growing cold as she pressed the ice pack near her nose bridge, while her other arm wrapped around Azzi’s waist to keep her close.

“Ms. Bueckers, I can take over from here, thank you,” Nurse Williams stood beside them, her hand on Azzi’s back.

“No, I, uh- is it alright if I stay with her?” Paige stuttered.

“Don’t you have to head back to the gym?”

“I just wanna make sure Ms. Fudd’s alright. Don’t worry, Ms. Edwards and Ms. Mühl got me covered,” Paige quickly reasoned.

Conveniently, the bell rang for lunch before Nurse Williams could utter another word. She looked at the door and back to the pair in front of her.

“Alright, sure. I’m going to get lunch for us while you both stay here, okay? Did you guys put yours in the fridge?”

Paige answered with no hesitation. “Mine’s a pastel purple bag. It should be next to Ms. Fudd’s, the bright pink one?”

Nurse Williams raised her eyebrows in amusement before heading out, closing the door behind her.

“I always wondered why my lunch bag had new company, it was you,” Azzi smiled dopily at the blonde.

Paige chuckled, licking her lips. “Yeah, she looked kinda lonely in the cold, you know?”

The pair giggled before Azzi brushed her hand on top of Paige, wanting to hold the ice pack instead.

“Hey, don’t think I didn’t notice you carrying me bridal style all the way down the hall. I honestly didn’t expect it,” Azzi smiled widely.

Paige contorted her face in disbelief. “What, you didn’t think I lift? There’s a reason I teach PE. Besides, you were too light for me.”

“Okay, I dunno if I should take that as a compliment or not. I pride myself in my muscles,” Azzi flexed her free arm, her biceps protruding, evidence that she works out.

“Mmm… yeah, they do look good,” Paige muttered almost too sensually without thinking, her eyes entranced on Azzi’s arm. “Oh,” was all Paige could croak before her eyes widened as she realised what she had blurted out.

Azzi bursted out in laughter. “Did I just make Paige Bueckers flustered?”

“Mmm, no, I don’t think you did,” She quickly shook her head dismissively.

“Aw, you’re turning red,” Azzi teased, her head tilting to the side.

Paige’s cheeks lifted from a sheepish closed smile, the warmth surfacing. “God forbid a woman can’t compliment another woman!”

“Well, no one’s stopping you. I was just…celebrating a li’l.” The curly brunette eased in her hysterics before giving Paige a sly smile, almost seductive. “God forbid a woman can’t tease”.

The blonde’s head twitched. “You always think you can one-up me, do you?”

“I just have unwavering confidence,” Azzi voiced flirtatiously, her eyes hooded.

“Oh yeah? Unwavering, hm…” Paige sighed, her voice low in an almost whisper.

Then she trailed her eyes down to Azzi’s lips. Her touch around Azzi’s waist was electrifying as she pulled her noticeably closer. Fudd’s breath hitched, it was the first time she was in such close proximity to Bueckers; thighs touching, chests almost together, her brown eyes trapped in blue ones in front of her. It took everything in Azzi not to look down at her lips, afraid of what might transpire if she did.

Then she felt a hand on her jaw. It was a gentle touch, Paige’s thumb caressing the side of Azzi’s lips as her eyes danced around them.

“Your dimples kill me, Az,” Bueckers whispered yearningly.

“Paige…” Azzi breathed, their faces inching closer.

The door swung open before the pair could react, Nurse Williams’ eyes widened as she halted in her steps realising what was unfolding before her eyes. The pair scrambled away from each other, almost like a teen couple being caught by a parent.

“Oh, I see. Is this why you didn’t wanna go back to the gym?” the shorter woman rested on one leg in disbelief, hands full of their lunch bags.

“Uh, thanks for bringing our lunch! She’s all good, so…imma head out,” Paige was awkward in her movements, taking her lunch bag from Nurse Williams before exiting the clinic.

The two remaining ladies just stared at the door for several seconds before they turned their heads to each other.

“Azzi. Explain yourself,” the older woman was stern.

“Kayla, not now…” Azzi groaned, leaning back on the bed, her arms propping her up.

Williams took a seat next to her, the corner of her lips tugging upwards. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you guys…?”

“It’s nothing, dude. Now, hand me my lunch bag,” Fudd reached over to Kayla, but her colleague retracted her arm away.

“Girl, that did not look like nothing. Y’all were making out in my office!” Kayla grinned widely, she was more so happy than disappointed.

Azzi’s eyes widened. “We were not! You came in before anything could happen, anyways”.

“Oh, so what you’re saying is I cockblocked y’all- OW!” The older girl winced, rubbing her arm where Azzi smacked it.

“Can you not? I’ve already had enough of KK and Caroline teasing me about it, I don’t need a third person,” Azzi successfully snatched her lunch bag from Kayla.

“GASP, so KK and Car knows, but not me? I thought we were friends,” Kayla frowned in exaggeration.

“Okay, fine, but you’re not missing out on anything,” Azzi sighed, defeated. “I bumped into her on her first day. You can say she was very… charming. Maybe we flirted a little bit. And now I might have a tiny crush on her- ew, I sound just like our kids”.

Kayla squealed. “No, no, this is great, Azzi! I mean, she’s totally your type-“

“I should never voice out my business to anyone ever again”

“Oh, shush. So, what, are y’all just…flirting with each other?”

“I guess you can say it’s a mutual understanding”

“Well, have y’all talked outside of school, at least?”

“It’s only been two weeks, but no…” Azzi trailed.

“Mm, too slowburn in my books. You do know it’s only gonna get busier in the coming weeks, right? I don’t think giving each other horny stares across the hall is gonna get you guys anywhere”

Azzi scoffed as she raised her arms up before dropping them, a gesture of being fed up by the sexual remarks she’s had so far about her and Paige.

“We don’t need to get anywhere, I’m fine where we are”

“Lying through your teeth right in front of me? That’s a new low even for you. Listen, Azzi, I’m your wingwoman. I’m gonna get you guys right”

“Mm,” Azzi, ever-the-more frustrated, just stared at her friend to continue.

“We’re going to Bar Lobo. This Friday night. You, me, KK, Nika, and Aaliyah - the five-star recruits of Moore. Get Car too ‘cause she’s one of us, obviously. Then, you’re gonna invite Paige as well. Be natural, be flirty about it. Then, um… we’ll figure it out as we go along,” Kayla waved her hands dismissively.

Azzi stared at her friend disappointedly. “You make care plans better than this”.

“Ouch,” was all Kayla could say.

However, Fudd wasn’t totally against the idea. She knew between teaching her middle school art classes and writing up a new lesson plan for the high schoolers, it would be difficult to see Paige more frequently. And if there’s one thing Azzi will to admit, it’s that she is very curious to see Paige in normal attire.

—

It was a Wednesday afternoon after school and Azzi found herself at the entrance of the gym again, her fingers fiddling on the strap of her bag as she quietly entered. Within her peripherals, she saw the familiar blonde buried in her clipboard, her back towards the curly brunette.

“I thought I might find you here,” Fudd voiced softly, the blonde turning around with a surprised look.

“Well, fitting for a PE teacher, don’t you think?” Bueckers played along, the side of her lips tugging upwards. “You’ve been surprising me lately”.

“How’d tryouts go?” Azzi deflected as she stared at the clipboard, scribbles of names filling the entire canvas of the paper.

“Really good, actually,” Paige exhaled, “The kids were very…passionate. They’re gonna have fun on Sports Day, I’m gonna make sure of it”.

“I’m sure they already do,” Fudd couldn’t help but melt at her determination, the potential she sees in the kids reflecting her own.

“How’s your nose?” Paige ask while pointing at it,

“Not broken, thank God,” Azzi sighed with a smile.

The pair stood in silence waiting on who would start first, Bueckers nibbling on her lips while Azzi continued fiddling on her bag strap.

“Azzi, about earlier-“

“I didn’t get to say thank you, by the way,” Azzi interjected, her heart pumping. One can’t help but think she was self-sabotaging here, almost as if she was holding herself back from something.

Paige gave a simple smile. “Is that the only reason you came all the way down here?” she looked at Fudd with a mix of need and curiosity, who went back to fiddling on her bag strap.

“I- I also wanted to know if you wanted to join myself and a few of the teachers this Friday night? At Bar Lobo. I figured it’d be great to get to know the other teachers outside of school, you know, team building or what not,” the curly brunette rambled on, her heart almost racing.

Bueckers was caught off guard, uncertain with how to react with the sudden information, something she didn’t expect.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be nice, get to know the teachers,” She rationalised. “I do have to give a disclaimer, though. I don’t exactly drink”.

Azzi was light-heartedly shocked, her eyebrows furrowed as she smiled. “Sorry, I just thought you’d be someone who’d love to unwind with a drink on the weekends”.

The blonde chuckled. “I can’t blame you. A lot of people assume I enjoy my liquor, but…”. Her face winced slightly. “I don’t exactly have great memories with it”.

Azzi widened her eyes, a wave of guilt rushed through her as she held her hand. “Paige, I’m so sorry for even suggesting this, I-“

“No, no, you’re good. I don’t drink, but I can still enjoy the company. I’m easy, don’t worry,” The blonde rubbed her hand on Azzi’s arm.

There was something about the domesticity within their movements that reintroduced the tension in the air around them.

Paige smirked before continuing. “Besides, I wouldn’t wanna miss the opportunity of seeing your reaction when I wear my going out clothes”.

Azzi’s scoffed. “Okay, you’re making me sound like a creep”. Paige chuckled.

“You know I’m only messing with you, Az,” Paige stepped closer staring intensely at the shorter girl.

Azzi’s head twitched, her eyes tracing the face in front of her. “I’ve never heard you call me by my nickname before, but you make it sound so…natural.”

“Hmm, I guess everything’s natural when it comes to you,” Paige hummed.

Before they could inch their face any closer, the screeching sounds of rusted wheels echoed throughout the gym.

“Don’t you ladies know you need to clear out after school?” The janitor had yelled by the entrance.

The pair stumbled backwards in an attempt to detach themselves from their proximity, their movements ever the more awkward.

“I’ll see you later”

“Catch you in a bit”

They said their farewells simultaneously as Azzi walked out in a hurry while Paige went to gather her bags.

—

“Azzi! Car! Right here!" Arnold yelled from across the room, her hands waving erratically to catch the pair’s attention. The girls sat on the round table, carved around with leather seats, their usual Watermelon Splash jug in the centre surrounded by small trays of food.

It was alive and loud at Bar Lobo, a bar club with a DJ mixer, the place famously known for their cocktail jugs and music. It was a spot the group of friends at Moore frequent every Friday night to wind down and catch up. Tonight was just like any other night, the blaring sound of 2000s to 2020s R&B remixes enveloping the venue, the centre stage lightly filled with drunk employees celebrating after their 9-5’s, and the tables fully occupied with large jugs of alcohol with adults ready to start their weekend.

Azzi and Caroline approached the table, the girls greeting them ‘Ooo’s’ and ‘Damn’s’. The curly brunette blushed.

Fudd wore jean shorts with a few rips in the bottom, paired with a tightly fitted pink cropped tank top. Her outfit hugged her curves in all the right places, her exposed muscles making it known that she works outs five times a week. Her hairstyle, corn rows across her crown halfway tied in pink, leading out to her natural type 3 curls.

“Damn, Az, who are you stealing tonight?" Nika exclaimed while staring Fudd up and down.

“I may have an idea or two,’ Kayla sang teasingly. The rest of the group snickered, except for Edwards.

“Wait, y’all know something I don’t?" Aaliyah furrowed her brows at the ladies as Azzi sighed in defeat, taking a seat next to her at one end of the curved booth.

Caroline smiled. “You’ll see".

Nika rolled her eyes playfully at Aaliyah who sat across her. "Lili, are you slow?”

"Excuse me?” Edwards gasped before throwing a fry at her.

“Speaking of, where's our PE teacher? I can’t believe she’s this late!” KK exasperated, taking a sip from her glass.

“It's only been ten minutes, relax,” Kayla defended before her eyes turned to look at the new movement by the entrance. "Well, speaking of the devil”.

And just then everyone's attention turned to where Kayla stared.

Azzi’s gulped, her muscles tensed.

There stood Paige, her height dominating over everyone around her. Her hair was in a half-up, half-down with two strands falling on either side of her face. She wore all black; a short black unbuttoned blouse with a black crop top underneath, her pants were baggy and low enough to expose the grey hem of her boxer shorts.

Damn, Azzi thought.

“Paige! Over here!” KK’s boisterous voice yelled again, her arms waving.

Paige smiled sheepishly before making her way past the crowds and waiters, Azzi’s heart couldn't race any faster, unsure if she was excited or dreading for her to come closer.

As soon as she was fully in everyone's sight, the same chorus of ‘Ooo’s’ and ‘Damn’s’ rang anong them as they all looked at her abs.

Azzi was shocked. Her six-pack was very pronounced, the lights of the venue casting a perfect shadow on them. Maybe Fudd really didn't expect Paige to have that much muscle in her, given she does look more lean underneath her PE uniform.

“Are y’all just gonna stare at my abs or will any of you scoot over?" Paige laughed as no one in the table realised they hadn't exactly moved one bit.

Kayla was the first to laugh in response before asking Nika to shuffle closer, making a space right across Azzi.

Before Paige took her seat, she gave a quick glance at Azzi, eyeing her up and down before biting her cheeks. She couldn’t help but notice Azzi’s eyes were now wandering elsewhere, avoiding eye contact at all cost, her jaws slightly clenched.

“Alright, Paige, I gotta give it to you. You're probably the best dressed here, I think everyone can agree,” KK confessed, the group nodding their heads while Azzi sucked on her cheeks.

"Oh, I dunno about that,” Paige smiled before grabbing a fry, her eyes shifting to Azzi. “Do you think so, Azzi?

The curly brunette was caught off guard, whipping her head to finally face her. Bueckers grinned as she was finally able to catch her attention, nonchalantly munching on a fry as she stared Azzi down.

“Uh, yeah, definitely. You look good, Paige,” Fudd said almost stoically, giving her a quick glance turning to her drink to sip on. The blonde kept grinning as she chewed in triumph.

The other girls in the booth just gave each other a side eye. Aaliyah’s mouth opened while slowly nodding at Caroline beside her, her brain finally clicking.

“Here,” KK interjected. “It’s Bar Lobo’s signature Shirley Temple. Azzi told us you don’t drink- Actually, no, it was more like she demanded, ‘Paige doesn’t drink so you better not push her like you always do to me, blah blah blah’. So, we ordered this for you instead,” KK mocked before sliding the pinkish-red drink towards Paige.

“Did she now? Well, that’s really sweet of you, Azzi,” Bueckers leaned forward with folded arms resting on the table, persistent in trying to elicit a response from her.

The curly brunette gave a quick death stare at Arnold. “Gotta look out for your friends, right?” she said with gritted teeth as looked back at Paige, who was nodding in amusement.

In any other setting, Azzi would’ve toyed with Paige’s flirtatious antics, trying to outcompete her. But the fact that they were being witnessed by her friends was holding her back.

“Alright, alright, alright, y’all! A shot to Ms. Bueckers for being Moore’s newest number one recruit of 2028! Thank you for your service thus far!” Kayla commemorated as she raised her shot glass, everyone roaring as their glasses clinked.

The night went on as the girls downed their drinks, the alcohol slowly spreading through their systems as the girls grew giddy. Azzi was lucky in that front, her tolerance being the highest among them, even if she had chugged half the jug. It wasn’t so much a gift, but more so something that developed during her last breakup.

As she watched her friends introduce their outside lives to Paige a little, Azzi couldn’t help but grow soft knowing the blonde was integrating well into a part of her life. Then, at some point amidst the tangled conversations, Caroline wanted to have a go at getting to know her roommate’s crush a bit more, asking a string of ambiguous questions like a parent interrogating their daughter’s new partner, trying to sus her out.

“So, Paige, do you cook? Cooking’s important, don’t you think? Important for self-development, creative nutrition, or for, like, when you wanna surprise your partner after a long day of work…” Caroline rambled on, the alcohol hitting her harder as the weaker tolerator of the group. Azzi nudged her best friend’s thigh trying to wake her sense up.

Paige could only chuckle. “Ah, yeah, I can cook a bit. I had to learn since living on my own”.

“Hmm, good, yep. Sooo…do you have a partner?” Ducharme asked as she was losing inhibition. Azzi hissed at her like a warning.The curly brunette couldn’t help but feel nervous, her leg starting to shake in anxiousness over the answer of the question.

“No, not currently,” Paige replied as she sipped on her Shirley Temple.

“Do you want to have a partner?”

It was unlike Paige to freeze in this instance. The front she’s been putting up always seemed like she would have a witty answer ready on-hand, but she remained silent for several seconds this time, her brain searching for a response.

As Azzi stared in anticipation, a familiar song came on causing the other girls to sing aloud.

“OH, LET’S MAKE IT TO THE MORNIN’, GIRL”

The five ladies giggled at their own sudden uniformity before getting up from their seats.

“Guys, c’mon, we gotta get out there!” Nika encouraged as she tried to push Paige out her seat.

Conveniently, her and Azzi were at both ends of the booth, having no choice but to make way for their friends. So as soon as they both got up, the girls scrambled their way out and onto the stage where many people were now gathered – it had reached the peak of the evening.

The pair were now left standing across from each other shaking their heads while laughing, almost shocked by their friends’ sudden outburst.

And before Azzi knew it, Paige had reached out her hand.

“C’mon”

The shorter girl pursed her lips before taking her hand and being led all the way to the main floor. Paige was walking backwards, not wanting to pry her sight away from the woman in front of her, while all Azzi could do was blush at the attention.

As soon as they got inside the crowd, Paige spun Azzi around, making her laugh. Then she timely snaked her hands on the curly brunette’s waist before she could face her, and pulled her closer. Azzi’s breath hitched as she now stared at the blue eyes in front of her.

“Don’t scream or shout, I’m workin’ my way down”

Naturally, Azzi’s arms travelled up to Paige’s shoulders before clasping her hands together behind her neck, their eyes never leaving each other as Paige licked her lips. Their bodies swayed to the rhythm of the song, touching on each other intimately as their eyes filled with a certain lust. Paige leaned over to Azzi’s ear.

“You look good, by the way”

“Hmm, I guess you don’t look too bad yourself,” Azzi teased, trying not to give Paige all the satisfaction just yet.

"Oh, so now you can look me in the eyes? What happened back there?" the blonde inched her fave closer, trying to challenge her.

"Shut up," Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, tilting her head aa stared at Paige through her lashes.

The blonde just gave a hooded smile.

The music was intoxicating, erotic. In the height of the tension, Azzi had spun herself around this time, her back was now against Paige’s chest. Fudd was fueled by the liquor as she seductively slid her hands down Paige’s own and guided them forward, the blonde’s palms grazing over Azzi’s lower pelvis. It elicited a breathy moan from both women as their bodies touched closer.

“The shit I did last night, I’m not proud of“

Slow grinding on each other, the blonde’s breath padded onto Azzi’s neck, sending electrical waves down her spine. They were feeling up on each other’s bodies, absolutely relishing in it. Their movements overwhelmed Paige, but in a good way, like she was getting drunk on the feeling. The scent of her vanilla perfume mixed with Paige’s jasmine musk hypnotising each other. And at that moment, she lowered her head next to Azzi’s ear.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Paige muttered.

Azzi smiled in a daze, her head tilting to almost face the taller girl. “Mmm, I have my guesses”.

“I don’t wanna fight with ya, tryna end my night with ya”

Fudd continued to grind her ass a bit harder onto Paige’s front as the bass of the music pounded, gripping Paige’s hands tighter causing the older girl to sink her face deeper into the crook of Azzi’s neck. The blonde was desperate, her breathing erratic as her lips closed in on her skin.

Letting the feeling take over, Paige started kissing on Azzi’s neck.

”Mmm,” The younger girl moaned, imperceptible from the deafening sounds around them.

The wetness of it was addictive everytime Paige’s tongue brushed her skin, slowly making out with it. The blonde took pleasure in the effect she had on the curly brunette. Soon after, Azzi lifted her hand to gently grab Paige’s head, pushing it a fraction closer into her neck. Her actions were needy as she got turned on. Then the blonde started sucking and biting lightly, almost wanting to give her hickies but was unsure if Azzi wanted them.

The younger girl furrowed her brows. She was entranced with the feeling, but she wanted more. But ‘more’ was not meant for where they stood dancing.

Azzi turned her head towards the blonde’s face.

“Paige, let’s go somewhere,” Azzi whispered enough for her to hear.

Then Azzi grabbed Paige’s hand and led the way this time. The taller girl looked like she was knocked senseless, her lips red and moist as she mindlessly followed the woman in front of her. As they pushed through the crowd, they finally reached a secluded hallway leading up to the toilets at the end.

Azzi tugged her hand forward, she swung the door open so quickly, revealing an empty toilet. How convenient, Azzi thought.

She marched them over to the last stall, tucking themselves in the corner as far away as possible. Once they entered, Paige locked the door behind them.

And just then, their movements slowed down. The muffled bass of the music playing in the background as they stared intensely at each other.

It was only the two of them now.

Paige moved past Azzi without saying a word before she took a seat on the lidded toilet seat, her eyes never leaving the brunette’s even once. Then, with her long arms, she reached to grab Azzi’s waist again, pulling her onto her lap.

“Sit here,” Her voice low, almost husky.

Azzi let out a breath before straddling herself onto Paige’s lap. The sound of their breaths along with the feeling of her long fingers gripping her waist to steady her drove Azzi insane.

Paige was taking it all in as her thumbs rubbed on Azzi’s abs; the way the curly brunette’s muscular arms wrapped around her neck, while her moist thighs brushed against the blonde’s own waist.

“You feel so good, Az,” Paige looked up, her voice needy while her hands rubbed on the younger girl’s waist.

Azzi whispered as she leaned closer. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

And just then, Paige crashed her lips onto Azzi’s, letting out their most breathy moans through their noses. The mouths moved with hunger, passion. The feeling of Fudd’s plump lips on her own was everything she ever imagined. Not like it was something Paige frequently thought about, but something her mind desired everytime Azzi gave her a dimpled smile during school.

As they wrapped around each other tightly, their hands were groping almost chaotically as if they couldn’t get enough of the other’s skin.

“Mmm,” Azzi let out. The kiss was getting more sloppy, the wetness addictive as they introduced their tongues. High on the feeling, Azzi instinctively started to grind her hips in a circle over Paige’s core, moaning in her ear as she did so.

“Oh, fuck,” was all the blonde could breathe out in between their tantalising make out session.

The blonde’s hands instinctively trailed down to grab Azzi’s ass, securing her as she pulled her closer. Their quaint moans grew more and more erratic and apparent. Just as their bodies were reaching the heat of the climax, Azzi’s phone vibrated, a loud iPhone ringtone blasting loudly, causing the pair to jolt.

The sound continued to ring, slowly bringing them back to reality.

“Shit, sorry,” Azzi muttered as she detached their lips, realising it was her phone. Paige, in her disheveled state, looked at the woman in front of her in a trance. Not exactly mad at the break off as she was still high from her lips, her thumbs caressing her ass.

“Hello?”

“Azzi, where are you?” It was Kayla, her voice loud trying to speak over the music behind her. “Car and Nika aren’t feeling too well. We might need to call it a night, it’s already past 2am, anyways. Is that okay?”

The curly brunette’s eye widened as she looked at her phone to check the time. 2:20am.

“Oh, shit. Yeah, um, can you call for an Uber?”

“Of course. Have you seen Paige?” in her sober mind, Williams would’ve expected the two to have scurried away together somewhere, but she was too exhausted from carrying Caroline on her shoulder to think.

Azzi gave Paige a quick glance. “I’ll go get her. Be there soon, babe”.

The shorter girl got off of Paige’s lap. She bit her lip trying to stifle a smile as she looked at the state she left Paige in, her hair messy while her lips were swollen red and shiny from Azzi’s pink lip gloss.

“What happened?” was all the blond could croak, her expression growing concerned.

Azzi sighed. “Let’s just say Nika and Car got white girl wasted.”

Paige chuckled before getting up, slightly towering over Azzi even though they were of similar height. They stared into each other’s eyes in curiosity.

Then Azzi raised her hand near Paige’s mouth, her thumb wiping off some of the gloss surrounding her lips. The pair giggled. It was cute, their movements as domestic as it could get.

Paige grinned. “Looks good on me, no? You should wear it more often”

Azzi scoffed in disbelief at the comment, pushing Bueckers backwards before she opened the stall’s door and made her way out.

The blonde was cheesing, her head nodding lightly as she prided herself on the remark.

“Stop smiling and get your ass outta there!” was all Paige could hear before Azzi fully left the toilet. Paige let out her deepest sigh, absolutely drunk on Azzi’s touch, before following suit.

[mercurio-shadowz]

I LOVE U.

ahem, anyways-

art tutorial when?? man i love your artstyle sm and i wanna learn how to draw these gay mfs too 😭😭

fr though how do you do it. like as a new artist, HOWWWW??

<333

OMG HIIIIIII

Aaaaaaa

Honestly, my only advice as a non expert and frankly kinda mediocre sonic artist is to practice a lot by copying references and don’t be discouraged when you don’t get things right at the first attempt

This was my very first Shadow. My son. He has every disease

At the beginning I really refused to use references for some strange reason, which truly hindered my progress, making it go at a snail’s pace compared to if I kept on studying and copying reference images (my references are post reboot archie comic panels, Sonic X screen caps and SA2 2d renders, by the way xD)

ART PROCESS RAMBLE UNDER THE CUTTTT (with funny looking art lol)

Plus I had no clue how to deal with mobian anatomy after exclusively drawing humans for years… so poor shadow would either look like a hot air balloon or like Sonic’s weirdly shaped little brother [ b A D]

Eventually I started letting moderately loose with the whole anatomy shebang, but things were nowhere near how I wanted them to look.

It all still felt rough around the edges. In fact, someone thought my shit was so ASS they traced the second drawing and posted a version in their style to their twitter without any credits xD. that’s a story for another day, but I honestly don’t blame them, shit’s kinda poopie!!

Anyway, I started to find my footing the more I used references and the more I studied the style in my own way [by tracing the references and seeing which shape goes where ] So, lesson learned basically, if you wanna learn how to draw the blorbo, you shall study the blorbo

The only other piece of advice I think I can give is . Circles. Use circles for their faces. It makes your life so so easy holy shit why did I stubbornly refuse to DO SO FOR WEEKS AAAAAA . Child me had the right idea sfbjvkf.

And that’s all for blorbo tips and tricks from my own perspective I think XD. It’s basically just a whole lotta looking at reference and figuring out how things work ;w;. I still have a lot to learn though, so don’t take my word as law🙏

I hope someone finds this helpful or mildly interesting at the very least xD

[sundew199]

The comfort of them

a/n: sort of a continuation of this thought, also just an excuse to write domestic/dad!zoro :)

tags: roronoa zoro x f!reader, post-canon, fluff, domestic, family dynamics, dad!zoro, family bliss, just cute stuff tbh Kōji means prosperous, peace and happiness. Kiyomi means beautiful

Gentle rustling of leaves against the wind silence the thoughts in his head, matching his slow concentrated breathing as he centers is mind, body and soul. Zoro had the rare morning off from teaching, no students causing a ruckus out in the courtyard as he attempts to refocus them to the lesson. Life had been so unnaturally slow since succeeding in his goal to become the greatest swordsman, deciding after years of adventure he was ready to settle down. And thank goodness you took him up on his offer, returning with him to Shimotsuki village so he could take over the dojo from his old master.

Over the years, the dojo earned itself a name, students from around the world clamoring to secure a spot to learn the art of the sword from the world's greatest swordsman. Despite his new title, Zoro was humble, never boasting or revealing who he was in the rarity someone didn't know. The fame wasn't what he wanted, never was, but knowing he fulfilled his lifelong goal in honor of his childhood friend made it easier to enjoy the life he was given.

The dojo wasn't the only thing that grew over the years, now instead of one Roronoa, there were few newly added additions. Shortly after taking over the dojo, Zoro asked for your hand in marriage, fulfilling another goal of his in making you his wife. He worried you would decline due to the new title bestowed upon him and the target that came with it, but you embraced it, taking on his last name and solidifying the missing piece to the other half of his heart permanently. Everything he could've ever wanted was right here, within his grasp and protection.

Peaking his one good eye open, Zoro took the stick of incense and extinguished the flame, concluding his routine meditation. The air wafting around him reminded him of his life out on sea, a familiar citrus and salty smell that kept those memories alive. He could admit that he did miss those times, the fun and the danger that came with Luffy being the captain, but he had something so much sweeter now.

Rising from the floor and grabbing his dark blue haori from the hook on the wall to drape over the plain black yukata, Zoro quietly shuffled out of the room and down the hall to check on everyone else living in the compound that connected to the dojo. Truthfully, Zoro wasn't fan of having such a large home for just him and you, but that mindset changed when a certain addition was added to the family.

Checking the room his boisterous son was supposed to be in, discovering it was empty like most mornings, Zoro let out a sigh and turned down the way he just came. Kōji was five now, born a year after he married you and took over the dojo and Jesus he was a force to reckon with at times. Koushirou constantly reminded Zoro that his son was just like him when he was that age, but Zoro didn't want to acknowledge that fact, at least not to his old teacher. Ever since Kōji turned five earlier this year, he's been begging Zoro to let him enroll in one of the classes he taught, having such an affinity for his father's swords and wanting to be just like him. You melted every time Kōji tried to find a new way to ask, but he was still a year too young to enroll and Zoro wasn't going to make an exception just for his son.

"Have you seen Kōji?" Catching one of the staff members for the dojo and asking if they've seen his son by any chance.

"Last I heard he was out by the cherry blossoms with a couple of practice swords." The man responded simply, giving a small bow to Zoro before slipping down another hall.

Zoro couldn't help but groan aloud, not that he despised the idea of his son wanting to take after him, but because he knew by the time he reached Kōji, he'd have a new bruise or scrape from trying to "practice".

Soft grunts and whistling of wood blades cutting through the air came into earshot, a strong willed figure with dark teal colored hair moving erratically like they were trying to copy someone else's movements. Zoro hung back for a moment to watch, unable to help the small smile seeing his son wield three swords exactly how he did.

Kōji lunged forward with a battlecry that was so muffled by the practice sword in his mouth, Zoro chuckled. Though the humor quickly disappeared as he watch his son trip on his feet and land face first in the grass with a whine and a small sob. Sighing rather loudly, Zoro made his way over to where Kōji now sat slumped with the three swords resting by his side and in front of him.

"Let me see."

Surprising the boy with his sudden appearance and hand on his shoulder, moving to hold under his chin to see the busted lip he earned from slipping face first with a sword in his mouth. Kōji frowned and almost scowled at Zoro trying to wipe some of the blood away, whining under his breath that he was fine and to let him get back to practice. Zoro laughed at his weak attempt of a declaration, scooping him off the ground and into his arms.

"Let me practice!"

"Not with a busted lip, your mother will kill me."

Kōji crossed his arms and pouted, glaring at Zoro while held in his arms, making his way back inside to doctor up the very noticeable split in his bottom lip. Zoro empathizes with his son and his insistence in wanting to learn and train, but he also wasn't going to bend the rules just for him. In the big picture, this served as one of the many lessons Zoro taught to his enrolled students: patience.

"Can't join the class and now you won't let me practice."

Zoro shook his head to hid the smile and chuckle at his son's irritated rambling, Koushirou may have been onto to something when comparing his younger self to Kōji.

"How about this?" Proposing to the boy as he sat him on the bench in the bathroom, watching his eyes light up with interest. "You can come with me to the afternoon classes today and watch the older students."

"Really? Okay!" Answering instantly and sitting up straighter with a smile that pulled at the wound in his bottom lip, causing a new trail of blood to run down his chin. Zoro smiled endearingly, wiped it away with his thumb and grabbed the damp warm rag to clean the split, holding the back of Kōji's neck to keep him still, knowing it would sting. He winced maybe once, trying to keep the little tears forming in the corner of his eyes from falling in front of Zoro. Something warmed his heart a little to see how much Kōji was trying to impress him when he didn't have to, his son didn't have to go to great lengths to impress him but still a little flattered that he did.

Leaving the bathroom together, Kōji took off down the hall to presumable go find you and tell you about getting the opportunity to join him for the afternoon classes, Zoro not far behind. Most days you hung out in the compound with the youngest Roronoa, his daughter who was just shy of turning six months old.

Finding you in the bedroom with the shojis open to let in the cool spring air, you smiled and opened your arms in an embrace to Kōji. The sleeves of your dark blue simple kimono that matched his haori, draped and engulfed around his son as you held him tightly to your chest to annoy him, pressing smothering kisses to the cheek that wasn't tightly pressed to your body. You had embraced the traditional clothing from Wano after coming here with him and after the discovery of Shimotsuki village's history. Even while in Wano, all those years ago, Zoro had an inkling that the name of this village and one of the clan's daimyo were connected and not just a crazy coincidence. And he was right, Koushirou revealing the history of this village and the connection it had to Wano, and even Zoro's connection to the Shimotsuki clan, and the direct line he had to Ryuma. Of course, both you and him had days where you wore regular clothing around, but most days comfort was found in the soft fabric of the kimonos and yukatas.

"Dad's going to let me come to the afternoon classes today!" Kōji excitedly exclaimed, sitting in your lap and looking so proud of himself. You were nodding absentmindedly to the statement, focused on the new injury your son had, brushing your thumb over the split in his bottom lip.

"Oh? Today?" Processing your son's words and looking up to Zoro who now cradled his daughter in his arms, pecking a couple of kisses to her forehead.

"Yea, just watching. Why?"

Deciding to join you on the floor, adjusting his hold on his daughter and faintly smiling as she further began to wake up from her nap.

"I forgot you had afternoon classes." Dividing your gaze between Kōji and your daughter Kiyomi in Zoro's arms.

"Yea, you can have a girls day or whatever with Kiyomi." Joking with a smile. Having his son with him during the class wouldn't be a big deal, the students attending today didn't need to be herded or watched like a hawk, all around thirteen-fourteen years old.

"Are you sure?"

"It's afternoon classes, baby, I can teach and watch my own son" Scooting close enough to kiss your cheek, letting out a little laugh to his own words and also to Kōji's soft sound of disgust at the display of affection between his parents.

There were still a few more hours left until the students would begin to arrive, giving Zoro some much needed uninterrupted time with his family. Kōji attempted to get Kiyomi to laugh by doing tricks that consisted of acrobatics, which had you gasping and clutching onto the sleeve of his haori. Having a son, that took after him, you were accepting the fact that he was going to get hurt and just not have as much care as you'd like, but you or Zoro were always there to comfort him when he scraped his knee or elbow, or hit his head a bit too hard.

Both of his children adored him, Kōji using him as inspiration for who he wants to be one day and Kiyomi always finding security and safety when in his arms, Zoro truly wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

After instructing his son to go change into the jumper worn by the students during class, Zoro hung out in the bedroom with Kiyomi while you changed to head out for the afternoon. She gurgled and cooed back at his whispers, smiling when Zoro would barely kiss her forehead and melting his heart. His daughter's hair was dark, but not black like either of you assumed when it started to thicken over time, Zoro swearing she had undertones of green like him and Kōji but you weren't as convinced, insisting it were closer to a brunette color more than anything. Only time would tell.

"Are you sure you're okay with having Kōji for class?"

Hearing your voice draw closer as you exited the room connected to the bedroom used to store yours and his clothing, looking up to see you dressed in loose fitting trousers and a blouse and smiling at how effortless you always looked.

"Yes baby, he'll be fine. Plus today's class isn't anything rigorous."

Standing up and balancing his daughter in one arm to wrap the other around you, bringing you in for a soft kiss. His calloused hand held the side of your face and brushed across your cheekbone, smiling at you in adoration.

"Okay." Whispering back and taking Kiyomi from him so he could grab his swords from the locked display in the bedroom. Rarely did Zoro ever find himself walking around the compound with them on his hip, proving over time to just get in the way, instead he chose to wear them to the classes he taught and when out and about. Taking all three of them and placing them on the futon, he went to fetch the holster for them and adjust the sash of yukata to hide the holster, not liking how bulky it looked.

Handling them each with care, Zoro secured his blades in order, securing wado ichimonji last. Taking Kiyomi back from you and leaving the bedroom together, neither of you bother to check if Kōji was in his room, knowing he would be patiently waiting for him out in the courtyard. And the assumption was correct, finding Kōji sitting at the top step with his hands in his lap and staring at the gate the students would come in.

"Say bye to your mom." Instructing the boy and smiling when he perked up to his feet to hug you around the legs, muttering a goodbye and accepting the kiss to the top of his head as you bent down.

Zoro stood beside his son, handing Kiyomi over to you after gently pressing a kiss to her cheek and muttering a hushed goodbye watching you leave, giving you a lingering look that read only of the three famous words constantly repeated.

"C'mon, we've got a few minutes until everyone gets here." Tipping his head back inside for Kōji to follow, leading him down to the same room he had been meditating in earlier. Zoro could tell his son was nothing but nerves and excitement, absentmindedly holding onto his fingers as they walked down the hall together. This would be the first time Kōji would be joining him for a class, having not been allowed to in the past. And not because Zoro didn't want him too, but because when he first started to show interest in swordsman ship, the students at the time required all of his attention and didn't need the distraction of his overly excited son there.

"Mom says you like to have sake before class, is that what we're doing?" Asking once in the room, a low table now placed in the center with a reasonably sized jug and a single serving cup. There was also tea, which was hardly touched by him ever, but allowed Kōji to partake in the little pre-class ritual of his without feeling left out.

"Mhm, helps me focus." Giving him a little smirk as he let go of his son's hand and sat on the opposite side of the low table. He poured the tea first for Kōji and then sake for himself. With a little nod, they downed their respective drinks, letting out similar sighs and placing the cups back down.

"Now, during class I want you to stay by me and listen. My students are here to learn and I don't want you distracting them." Letting his tone fall serious, watching his son's face do the same as he listened.

"Yes sir."

"Good, this will give you an idea of what it'll be like for you some day so make sure you're paying attention."

Kōji nodded again, only with a little smile now at the mention of him getting to join the classes his father taught. Zoro smiled softly seeing his son's smile, pouring another glass of sake and throwing it back quickly, knowing the students would be here any minute.

"Master Zoro, the students are arriving." One of the assistant teacher said, poking their head into the room. It didn't go unnoticed how their eyes widened seeing his son with him, but kept his comments to himself.

Zoro gave a nod, standing up, Kōji returned to holding tightly onto Zoro's middle and ring finger as he walked beside him, walking closer and closer to his side as they approached the courtyard once again. A few more glances at his son accompanying him were give by the staff and assistant teachers, and again none of them saying a thing on the matter.

Out in the expanse courtyard, twenty or so students around the ages of thirteen and fourteen stood in lines of fives, stiffening when Zoro walked through the open shoji door, standing in the center with a neutral expression. Kōji did his best not to cling to his father's side, standing tall and tightening his small hand around the fingers he held onto still.

"Begin with your stretches." Commanding in a sharp tone, his demeanor flipping like a switch now that he was teaching a class. Kōji stiffened at the new and unfamiliar tone used by his father, looking up at him and briefly smiling at the wink Zoro gave him, a little gesture of affection that soothed the nerves of his son.

All the students began the routine drilled into them from the very beginning of their enrollment, staying within their own space and staying mindful of the other's around them. Zoro let go of Kōji's hand to cross his arms over his chest, watching with a careful eyes to ensure there were no stupid mistakes being made with the simple instructions.

"Master Zoro, we know your wife left just a few minutes ago, would you like one of us to keep Kōji entertained?" An assistant teacher asked in a low voice, probably taking notice of the students wandering eyes and trying to firgure out who the young kid standing up by their teacher was. Zoro led a private life, people knew he had a family and was married but only ever saw you on occasion, some of the students completely unaware that their teacher had children.

"No. He's with me for the entirety of the class, and won't be an issue."

Firmly responding to the assistant teacher, who meekly bowed at the response, returning to where he stood a little behind Zoro with the second assistant teacher and watched the children out in the yard warm up their muscles before class.

Stretching concluded with the students standing tall with their hands behind their backs, waiting for further instruction. Zoro took a seat right where he was, Kōji doing the same, sitting in a criss-cross position, mirroring Zoro the best he could.

"Last class each of you were given a blade and instructed to care for it, by cleaning and polishing it for this class." Pausing as he unhooked a part of his holster and set his own three blades out in front of him. Kōji stared in amazement, never getting to see his father's blades this close before, subject to looking at them in the display. Carefully, Zoro unsheathed Sandai Kitetsu from the guard, holding it at an angle where the sun would catch the blade and bounce.

"Your blade is an extension of yourself, and must be treated as such." Straightening his arm out in front of him with Kitetsu facing horizontally towards the students. "Treating it just as a blade will never get you as far as you think, wielding it as an extension grants you a higher possibility of winning a match against an opponent."

Kōji was enraptured with his father's words, even if he couldn't quiet grasp exactly what he was saying it didn't negate the fact that Zoro was speaking with such passion and truth about the blade he now held vertical in front of him. Zoro glanced at Kōji, wide eyed and lost in the amazement, flashing him a small soft smile before speaking again.

"One by one you will present the blades to see if they match the standards that I keep mine." Proclaiming sternly, moving the other two unsheathed swords in front of him back to the side his holster was on, placing Kitetsu down in front of him. The students gave an in sync response to their teacher, grabbing their blades from the ground next to them and filing into a line to present the weapon to Zoro to inspect. The assistant teachers moved to help, until Zoro held up a hand for them to stop, wanting to conduct this all on his own, very particular on this sort of matter.

Kōji tried to sit up straighter, tried to exude the commanding presence of his father, despite being five years old. He watched the first student approach, bow at the waist and hand over the sheathed blade to his master. Zoro carefully revealed the weapon, holding it at the hilt and looking it over thoroughly.

"Good."

The one word response was give to the student, sheathing the blade again and handing it back, glancing at the next student to come forward. Kōji didn't exactly know what his dad was looking for, the first few looked shiny and clean from his point of view and wondered why Zoro spent longer than a few seconds examining it.

Student after student presented their blades, some passing the assignment, others coming close if it weren't for the few missed imperfections that were spotted. When they were spotted, Zoro would only frown and name what he saw, either it be a smudge of the smallest streak of leftover polish or dirt, and leave it at that. The student wouldn't necessarily fail, but they didn't pass either.

One of the students towards the end of line was next, proud smug expression written on his face when approaching Zoro, confidently passing over his sword. Kōji saw the way his dad's neutral expression falter to irritation for the briefest second, his curious mind wondering why it shifted for this particular student only.

Thumbing over the blades edge, turning the hilt in his hand, Zoro's frown deepened immensely, narrowing his gaze at the student.

"What is this?"

"The polished and cleaned sword Master Zoro." Increasing the effort on his end to keep the confidence present in front of his teacher.

"Who polished this?" Almost snapping at the student, causing Kōji to jump a little while watching the interaction.

"I did Mast-"

"Lie again and you'll be expelled."

Confidence completely drained from the student, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, and managing to keep his gaze centered on Zoro who scowled angrily.

"My Father."

"Why? The assignment was for you, not your father." Rising from where he sat, sheathing the sword he loaned to his student and handing it to one of the assistant teachers.

"Because he is a swordsman like you, and wanted to show me the correct way to clean and polish a sword." Words carrying a slight tremble as he spoke, trying to resist in picking at his fingers in nerves.

"Then why are you enrolled? If my methods of teaching are incorrect then there's no reason for you to be in my class." Zoro watched as the student shrunk where he stood, realizing the depth of his actions and the consequences that were sure to follow.

"yes I-"

"You're dismissed for the day." Speaking over the student's stammering in a surprisingly calm tone. For a moment, Zoro thought he would protest further, instead bowing at the waist and grabbing the last of his things and shuffling out of the courtyard. Everyone watched with wide eyes and nerves, never witnessing such a thing before. Zoro wouldn't expel the student, but lying and not even completing the task that was assigned got him sent home from the class. There was no success in letting others do the menial and somewhat pointless tasks, the path to mastering the art of swordsmanship was all up to you.

Zoro didn't waste anymore time on what had just happened, sitting back down and waving forward the next student. She was one of the few girls in the glass, introverted but picked up on things fast. Zoro tried not to play favorites with his students, wanting to remain fair in honor of his journey and the person who set him on the path in the first place, but there obviously the students who advanced more quickly than others.

"Well done." Handing the girl her blade back, glancing at the last two students. Kōji's eyes followed her as she walked to joined the others, the girl giving him a small wave out of view of her teacher and Kōji giving one back.

Now that all the student's blade have been inspected, Zoro stands, walking down the steps, looking back at his son and holding out his hand for him to take. Together, with Kōji holding onto to the two same fingers from earlier, they walked over to where the students had gathered, awaiting further instructions.

"We'll be going over footwork first and focused, precise moves." Taking Enma out of the cover, Zoro dropped Kōji's hand to give a brief demonstration of what the students would be doing. Placing one foot behind the other, bending his knees just enough, Zoro spotted his target out of the peripheral of his good eye, inhaling deeply.

Kōji and the other students watched, some never having seen the world's greatest swordsman use his blades and some anticipating the excitement of witnessing it again.

Turning on his back foot, Zoro's waist twists in the direction of the practice dummy, Haki flowing furiously down the arm that held the Enma at the hilt, swinging his arm just enough and speaking the name of the famed blade. In an instant, the top half of the dummy was cut diagonally, top half sliding down and hitting the dirt. Nothing else besides the dummy took a damage, Zoro now possessing years of control and practice with this specific sword to center his attack on only what he wanted, a feat he worked hard to achieve.

Gasps and murmurs followed the single move, students exchanging looks with one another in pure amazement, the title of their master living up to its name.

"One person explain how I was able to achieve that" Tucking Emna back into its scabbard and returning to stand in front of his students. Kōji quietly made his way to stand closer to Zoro, shuffling his feet in the dirt and looking up at him as he waited for the answer to his question.

"You centered yourself first, then chose a target to aim for." A student answered, clutching the scabbard of his own blade to his chest.

"Good. Foot placement may not always be achievable in certain situations, but it's a way to center yourself before an attack. Throwing out unfocused and sporadic attacks could land you at the other end of the blade, which is why treating your sword as an extension of yourself and centering your being will get you results and not on the wrong end of blade."

Zoro allowed himself a small smile seeing the slow nods from his students, experience mingling into his words as he spoke and feeling confident that his students were absorbing every word.

"Find a dummy and practice some of the basic moves from previous classes. Aim for precision, center your mind, body and soul."

Immediately the students broke off from each other, following instructions and unsheathing their blades from their scabbards.

Zoro took a moment to make sure everyone was where they were suppose to be, before turning his attention to Kōji. He was awestruck still, blankly staring out where the students were and leaning into Zoro.

"Having fun?" Asking with a chuckle when his son's head popped up, a smile breaking out on his face.

"That was so cool! How did you do that? Can all of your swords do that? Will you teach me-"

"Slow down," Laughing under his breath at the influx of questions pouring from his son, the amazement and pure excitement swelling the organ in Zoro's chest. The excitement from his students just didn't feel the same as his son's excitement, the admiration Kōji held for him was so dear and special.

"All of my swords are different and used for different moves and attacks. And someday, when you're old enough, I'lll teach you, with your own."

Kōji let out a lengthy gasp, stars forming in his eyes. This was the first time his dad had ever given him an answer to his constant request for him to teach him. Zoro palmed the top of his head, brushing back some of his hair and continuing to give Kōji the promising smile.

The remainder of the class, Zoro corrected students who needed it and indulged in his son's occasional questions. He could picture doing this with Kōji, and was kind of excited to pass down his passion to his son, completely different than passing it down to students.

By the time the last student had left with their parent, Zoro could see you approaching with Kiyomi and a few additional items. Kōji was already inside getting washed up for dinner by the time you got back.

Before you could even ask how the day had gone, Zoro was taking his daughter from you and ushering you inside, to discuss about the excitement that took place while you were out. Kiyomi smiled wide now that she was carried by Zoro, gurgling as if she were saying actual words back to him as he made similar hushed noises in return.

Within the bedroom, Zoro kept Kiyomi occupied as you changed and put everything away.

“How was he?”

Hearing you ask, sauntering out of the closet in one of your more simpler kimonos, reaching for Kiyomi as if you hadn’t been with her all day. Zoro sighed, like he were defeated at his daughter being “stolen” from him, but laughed under his breath at how enamored Kiyomi was at the moment.

“He’ll be counting down the days till his birthday, the day he’ll want to enroll.”

You hummed, holding out your free hand for him to take so the two of you could grab Kōji from his room and head down for dinner.

“And I’m assuming you’ll let him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He was so excited to just sit in on the class, a kid in a candy store sweetheart.” Shrugging as if he weren't just as excited at teaching his son the passion that's had him in a chokehold since he was Kōji's age.

The cooks had things set up in the small dining area of the compound, where the four of you would eat every night. But the setting sun and the cherry blossoms swaying in the wind made it all the more enticing to eat out in the garden. Giving a quick request to have everything moved to enjoy the nice evening, Zoro felt content run warm through his body. All those years out at sea, pondering what would become of his life after he achieved his goal now seemed so, minuscule. Look where he was now, Master of his dojo and holding the title of "greatest swordsman" and married to the woman he would stay up late at night admiring, hoping the feelings he held for you would always be reciprocated.

"I finally got to see dad use his swords in class and, and, it was so cool!"

Kōji excited exclaimed while sitting on the blanket across from you and Zoro, holding and onigiri in one of his small hands, looking at both you and Zoro with the widest eye either of you have ever seen.

"Which sword was it?" Indulging your son, adjusting your daughter on your lap as she playing with some of the food within reach.

"Um, it was...oh! Enma, right dad?" Sounding kind of confident but then second guessing himself and looking to Zoro for confirmation.

"Mhm, my most famed blade, received that one in Wano, as a gift sort of."

Kōji somehow looked even more entranced, like what Zoro was saying were that of legend and fairytale, but to be fair, Enma was a legendary blade by all standards. You leaned more into his shoulder after giving Kōji an answer, nostalgia and reminiscing coming off of you in waves at the mention of where and how he received that particular sword.

"One day, I'll be just like you dad, or better." Kōji now stood, shoving the onigiri into his mouth and reaching for a rice ball now, smiling proudly with a full mouth, making Zoro swell with pride and maybe something even greater than pride.

"We'll see, you haven't even been enrolled into classes yet." Leaning back on his palm, welcoming Kiyomi, who had now crawled from your lap to his, bringing her to his chest and kissing the top of her soft hair.

"I'm going to practice."

Breaking off from the small blanketed area to go grab his practice swords, almost tripping over his feet but catching himself before managing a repeat from earlier. Zoro could hear you sigh sweetly, feeling your body come to press against his, running a hand through the longer hair towards the back of his neck.

"God I can only imagine what you were like his age."

All Zoro could do was hum humorously, lean over and kiss the top of your head, as if he were agreeing with the statement and thoughts you hadn't voiced yet.

"Much worse baby."

Now you laughed heartily, smacking his arm and moving to lay your cheek on his chest, placing a hand on Kiyomi's back and focusing your attention to the horizon where the sun teased to dip behind. Zoro sighed again, contently, looking in the same direction you were. All his life he was zeroed in on one goal, a goal that led him to now, which he came to realize much later in his journey this is all he could've wanted. the title bestowed upon him was nice, Zoro would admit, but all those nights on the sunny where you and him were curled up in the small cabin, where he worried if once he achieved his goal and helped Luffy achieve his you would still want to be with him. The thrill part of it all is what Zoro swore is what held your love for him together, but god was he relieved to be wrong for once.

"I'm going to try to do what dad did earlier, watch." Kōji declared, now having returned to the garden with three swords, carefully placing the two he didn't need at the moment to the side, trying to mirror the stance Zoro had earlier during class.

As Zoro watched the wooden blade cut through the air with a whistle and a small excited squeal from his son, he looked down at his daughter and then to you and thanked the universe and every god out there that this was his reward for the end of his adventure, the comfort after a long journey of achieving his goals and honoring a close friends. There was nothing more he could've asked for, and Zoro wouldn't dare ask for anything else unless it was more of this.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Hate Mail (Human!Alastor x Reader)

CW: Rough oral, Dub con Rated: Adult Part 1 of 2 (Part 2 here) Summary: Alastor has been on the receiving end of some nasty letters at the station. With the help of some rather unique penmanship and a stroke of luck, the culprit finds herself in his crosshairs. What sort of lesson will Alastor teach his little hate fan and how will that change when he uncovers the reason why she is sending him the letters? Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Alastor leaned back in his chair, old springs creaking under his weight, letting the dim light filtering in from the closed blinds illuminate the envelope in his hand. He could get a new chair. It wasn’t out of his or the station’s budget, but he liked this one. The way it creaked reminded him of all that he had gone through, sitting in that chair as he worked his way to where he was now, hosting his own evening show. He had taken it from office to office, as he had moved around the station, working his way up. 

The chair creaked its protest and requests for retirement as he shifted again, running the blade of the letter opener under the fold of the envelope. The sound of ripping paper joined the soft noises that filled the small office, along with the ticking of the clock. 

The sender had written the station address on the front of the envelope, above his name. Inside he would find a folded piece of stationary, thin but covered in a distinctive penmanship, just he had found in the last near dozen envelopes just like it. Did you know how uniquely you wrote your As? 

It was only a matter of time before Alastor found the source of this disrespectful dribble and made the sender pay for it. He was determined, and there was one thing that was always true about him; he always accomplished what he set his mind to.

Inside, Alastor found the same filth he had grown to expect. He didn’t bother doing anything more than glancing over the words. It was the same message he got every week, just worded differently. 

Whoever you were, you lacked creativity. Alastor sighed as he pulled open his desk drawer, tossing the paper onto the stack of similar notes. This had been allowed to go on for long enough. 

For each one he received, Alastor was determined to make the sender pay. First, he needed to find you. It was quickly becoming a habit to watch people as they wrote, but he had yet to find that little letter that would give you away. That’s alright. He knew it was just a matter of time. You couldn’t hide from him forever. 

Alastor closed the drawer, chair creaking as he stood. He had a few hours until showtime, but he had time to kill. It hadn’t taken him nearly as long as he had expected to finish the scripts for the week. Glancing at the clock, he elected to take an early dinner break. There was a deli not too far from the station that served delicious sandwiches, and he was hungry.

He shut the office door behind him as he stepped out into the hall. Much to his dismay, he found himself instantly faced with the company of Scotty, the sportscaster who cared more about baseball than anything else. Alastor was fairly certain the man hadn’t picked up a book in a distressingly long time. 

“Al, old pal!” Scotty clapped Alastor on the back in greeting. Alastor smiled wider, thinking about how good it would feel to clap Scotty across the jaw with his fist. 

“You going out?” The man spoke plainly, not bothering with the transatlantic accent when off the air. 

“I am,” Alastor’s voice came clearly, clipped and proper. He spoke the same on and off the air, unless in the private of his own home and even then, it wasn’t unheard of for the accent to be more of a habit than a show. 

“The currier is here, a total doll too.” Scotty gushed, “You should go downstairs and see her.”

“I’m not interested,” Alastor waved the smaller man off. “Thank you for looking out for me, however.” 

“At least stop by, say hello. I bet she’s a fan of our quickly rising star!” Scotty laughed as he walked down the hallway, letting Alastor free of the conversation.

With a shake of his head, Alastor started down the stairs. Today he had lucked out, Scotty hadn’t wanted to linger and chat. Any evening where he didn’t have to pretend to care about the rehashing of the last ballgame as a good way to start the evening. 

“Oh, Mr. Moreau!” The woman who manned the information desk called. She was an eager blonde, curls bouncing as she waved him over. “Come meet my old school friend!” 

~~~~~<3

“Sarah, no.” You hissed, looking between the man walking over from the staircase and your friend. “I need to get back to work.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Sarah assured you, snagging your clipboard from your hands. “I still need to sign this, anyway.”

“Hello, Ladies.” Alastor greeted as he strode up, soft smile reaching his warm brown eyes. 

You did everything you could to avoid looking at the tall man. He was handsome, fluffy brown hair bouncing with each step he had taken. His skin was just a touch too tan for what you had expected, but it was his eyes that threatened to capture your attention. They were the color of coffee, just splashed with the slightest hint of cream. 

“Hello,” you squeaked out, trying to not look at him. 

“Was there something you needed?” Alastor asked, looking between Sarah and you as you avoided his eyes. 

“No,” you said quickly, only to have Sarah talk over you. 

“This is my good friend,” she said, introducing you to the last man you ever wanted to meet face to face. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alastor said, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as he purred your name, “quite a pleasure.” 

“Likewise,” you mumbled, reaching for your clipboard, only to knock it from the high countertop around the information desk. It clattered to the ground at Alastor’s feet. 

“Oh, dear!” Alastor’s voice was far too cheery as he reached down, picking up your clipboard. He slowed for a moment, eyes scanning the page before he handed it to you. “I believe this belongs to you.” 

“Yes,” You snatched it from his hands, “thank you.” 

“You have lovely handwriting, my dear.” Alastor leaned into your space, just enough to make you aware he was doing it, but not so much to be improper. 

“Thank you,” you stuttered out, clutching the clipboard to your chest. “I should get back to the office. I’m sure there’s… there’s something for me to deliver.” 

“Oh!” Alastor snapped his fingers, smile spreading wider. “I forgot. I have a package I need to send off.” 

“I can wait-” Alastor cut you off before you finished the sentence, forcing you into silence. 

“Nonsense,” Alastor’s hand came to rest on the small of your back, pushing you ever so slightly to walk along with him, “walk with me. I’ll show you around.” 

“Oh, okay.” You struggled to find a polite way to talk your way out of the situation you found yourself in. Dread balled in the pit of your stomach, not budging as you tried to tell yourself that it was nonsense. 

The pressure of his hand on the small of your back was all you could think about. You tried again and again to remind yourself how much you hated him. Keeping that thought in the front of your mind was a struggle. It was easier to hate him when you didn’t know that he had such a handsome face to go with his smoothe voice. 

You hated him because he was popular. You hated him because he was successful. You hated him because women fell at his feet and he couldn’t bother to even court a woman most of the time. Most of all, you hated him because he had the life you wished you had. 

“Just step inside my office,” Alastor urged you forward with the hand that never left the small of your back, from the moment you left the information desk and the safety of your friend. “It’s just at my desk.” 

“Oh no,” you looked at him, shaking your head. “I couldn’t-” 

“Please,” the pressure on your back grew firmer, leaving you little choice but to step forward. “I insist. It’ll be far easier for you to pick up the delivery if you do.” 

You didn’t understand what he was saying, but you had little chance of resisting. The pressure on the small of your back was firm and unyielding, reminding you of who was in control every step you had taken together. It was hard not to stumble slightly as he all but pushed you inside his office, the door clicking shut behind him. 

“Mr. Moreau?” 

“Alastor, please.” He held his arm out toward his desk. “Now be a good girl and go over to the desk. I have some letters I need delivered rather urgently.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, sending blood roaring through your ears as you took timid steps toward his imposing wooden desk . The surface was littered with papers, some having doodles with circled words of commentary. 

Behind you, there was a click that sounded disturbingly like that of a lock turning. Looking over your shoulder, you watched as Alastor took a few steps into the room. His smile spread wickedly wide across his face, a cartoonish grin of mock reassurance.

He didn’t know. You told yourself that again and again. There was no way he could know. You had been careful. You sent every letter anonymously. 

There were no packages on his desk, you realized as your eyes scanned the surface. Nothing hid behind stacks of papers or file holders. 

“In the drawer,” Alastor’s voice came from over your shoulder, nearly spoken directly into your ear. A squeak escaped your lips as you jumped, startled nearly out of your skin. He had crossed the room both quickly and near silently. “It’s unlocked.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping around to the other side of his desk, grateful for the chance to put some distance between you and him. 

Alastor followed you, an ever present shadow looming behind you, standing too close as you stopped again. His breath ghosted over your shoulder as you tried to do your best to ignore it. 

Bending slightly, you pulled the drawer open. It rattled as you opened it, not sliding smoothly along the tracks. It wasn’t a terribly deep drawer, but inside you found a stack of folded papers and ripped envelopes. 

“Take it out.” Alastor spoke softly behind you. He was always behind you, a shadow you could not shake. 

Your fingers trembled as you reached out. “Which ones?” 

“Whichever ones you want,” Alastor said, shrugging, though you could not see it. 

You swallowed as you picked up a few folded papers. They felt the same as the stationery you had back in your house. It felt the same as the paper you had used to- no.

It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. No. 

“Read it.” Alastor’s tone was firm, but his voice was as warm as it had been. You clung to that warmth.

Your fingers trembled as you unfolded the first paper. It shook, making it hard to read the words carefully printed. It didn’t matter; you didn’t need to see the words to know what they said. You had penned the words yourself just a few weeks prior. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I don’t understand.” 

“Well,” Alastor chuckled darkly, “I have to say you did a very good job!” 

“I don’t-?” You turned to find Alastor standing directly behind you once again, far too close for comfort, let alone propriety. 

“You delivered the package for me, ever so swiftly!” Alastor laughed at his joke. “Did you know you’ve got a very distinctive way to write your letter A?” 

“I beg your pardon?” You stepped away, only gaining yourself a few inches of space as your hip hit his desk. 

“Is there something wrong?” Alastor asked, stepping closer, stealing back what little space you had claimed. “Is there something you’d like to tell me to my face?” 

“N-no?” You looked everywhere but at Alastor and to him, that simply would not do. Slender fingers reached out, taking hold of your chin. His grip was far stronger than you had expected from such thin fingers as he forced your eyes to meet his. 

“Well?” Alastor asked, hand hitting the desk, trapping you between him and his office chair. His other hand quickly followed, properly caging you in. You knew he was close but as you turned to face him, you found yourself nearly chest to chest with him. 

“I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” Alastor mocked, smile holding a dangerous glint. “You seem to not understand a lot of things.”

“Sir, I- I should go.” You stammered out, clinging hope. Sarah knew where you were. She would surely question if you did not come down the stairs soon. 

“It would be rude to leave in the middle of a conversation,” Alastor whispered into your ear, “and we’re not done talking.” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” You tried to duck under his arm, only to have his elbow fold, pushing him further into your space.

“Ha! We do though!” Alastor’s chuckle was rich, warmer than it sounded on the radio, and yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. “We should talk about how you have a very distinctive way of writing your letter A, for one. Ignoring it will not make me forget.” 

Alastor plucked the clipboard from your hands, flipping it so he could look at your writing. You watched as his eyes scanned over the page. It took longer than it should have for you to realize he had left an opening, though slight, that you could use to escape. 

You took a deep breath and darted out from between Alastor and his desk. Pain jumped through you as your hip smashed into the corner of the desk. It sent tingles down your leg, but you refused to let that stop you.

Oh fuck, he knew. 

You knew he knew. 

It was such a terrible decision. You’d had too much to drink at a speakeasy, dragged yourself home and found the sound of his voice worked you up. Being a good girl, you couldn’t do anything about it. It made you angry, knowing that other women were having what they desired that night and you were alone, wanting. 

So instead of pursuing someone to court you, you wrote letters to the host with the velvet voice. Once you posted the first letter, it was like you had uncorked a bottle inside you that you hadn’t been aware of. You kept having these feelings for the man with the voice.

A man you had never met occupied your mind during much of your waking moments. The sound of his voice haunted your dreams. A man you had never even seen became your personal ghost. There was nothing you could do to exercise it but keep letting those feeling out in aggressive, angry letters. You spewed vile things at a man that sparked things you didn’t want to face in yourself, not expecting the man himself to actually read them. 

But he did. You had accounted for everything, changed how you wrote even, but you didn’t account for one thing. You wrote the fucking letter A weird, even after carefully shaping every letter you penned. 

You didn’t make it far at all. As you rounded the desk, his strong hand wrapped around your wrist. Pain flared in your arm as it pulled back behind you, forcing you to turn toward him. 

Alastor yanked on your arm, harshly, upsetting your balance and sending you to the ground at his feet. 

“Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged. “I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t think they’d make it to you, that you’d read them.” 

“Your mouth is so good at talking the good talk. Yapping. But how are you going to make this up to me?” Alastor leaned down, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. “Words have power, my dear. Did you know that? That is why I’m so good at what I do. Your words hurt me.” Alastor was lying. He found your letters to be little more than a disrespectful annoyance, but oh, you needed to be taught a lesson. 

You rubbed your thighs together, not even aware of the movement as you did it. Fear was the only thing you were aware of feeling, but there was an undercurrent of something else that you refused to look at. It was that same evil feeling that the sound of his voice coming through your radio speakers in the evenings sparked inside you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it more than you had ever meant it in your life. 

“Part of being sorry is making recompense, didn’t your mother teach you that?” Alastor was lecturing, keeping your eyes on him as he spoke each word, squeezing your jaw any time your eyes darted away. You feared there would be bruises come morning. 

“Yes, sir.” It was hard to speak with his grip on your jaw. He had your head pulled up so much that your neck ached and yet, you couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together. 

Alastor watched you, eyes darting over your face and down your torso to where your knees were planted on the hard ground of his office. Oh, he realized as he watched your thighs brush against eachother; you liked this. 

“Tell me, my dear,” Alastor’s grin spread wider. “Why did you write me those letters? Be truthful now. I’ll know if you’re lying.” 

“I-” Alastor squeezed your jaw when you hesitated. “Your voice, it made me… me feel things, and I took it out on you. It was wrong, I’m sorry.” 

Alastor hummed, eyes watching your thighs as they rubbed together. Did you notice, or was your body betraying you? He was fairly certain it was the latter, and that you thought you were just shuffling to keep your balance as he pulled your spine tighter. 

“What sort of things did my voice make you feel?” He leaned forward, elbow bending to ensure you continued be stretched by his grip.

Heat ran up your chest, racing up your neck and bloomed on your face. It felt like your ears were burning. You wanted to lie. You wanted to tell him anything but the truth. The look in his eyes told you that even trying to pass a lie off would be dangerous. 

“Sinful things,” you said, his grip tightening urged you to be more specific. “Lustful thoughts.” 

“From my voice?” Alastor chuckled as shame burned through you. “And you decided the best thing to do with your words was to say anything but that? Spew vile words of hate?” 

“I couldn’t-” 

“You couldn’t write me and say ‘Alastor, your voice makes my thighs rub together.’? or perhaps ‘Alastor, I touch myself to the sound of your voice.’?” As he spoke, Alastor hooked his thumb into his pocket, hip cocking as he rested his weight on one leg. “You wouldn’t be the first to send such letters.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Did you think you could say those things to me and I wouldn’t find out who you were? Did you think you would escape punishment?” 

“No, sir- I-” 

“But perhaps,” Alastor hooked his fingers through where his belt fed through the buckle, pulling it free from where it was secured, “that’s what you wanted.” He finished, letting his statement be punctuated by the clacking of his belt buckle as he finished unbuckling the belt. 

“No, I-” 

“Oh, but you do.” Bending at the waist, he brought his face so close to yours you could feel his breath wash over your face. “You’re just too timid to say it.” 

The buckle of his belt clinked in the otherwise near silent room as he moved, unbuttoning his trousers and working the fly open. You looked up at him, shocked at the brazen behavior. You were not a blushing virgin, but you were also not well experienced in the ways of men. Never had you faced a situation where a man had been so forward with you.

“Please, I-” 

“Yes, do keep begging.” Alastor mused, letting his fly fall open, pants now only being held up by his suspenders. 

You opened your mouth to say something, to express your outrage somehow, but Alastor shoved his fingers inside your mouth instead. When you tried to recoil back in shock, he hooked his fingers into the soft underside of your mouth and pulled you forward. 

“You’re going to put that lovely little mouth of yours to good use.” Alastor said menacing as he pulled his face closer again. “You’re going to make it up to me, every little lie you’ve written, every terrible thing you’ve sent me. It’s time that you pay for them. And you will pay for them, I assure you of that.” 

“Yes, sir,” you struggled to say around his fingers. There wasn’t anything you could say to get you out of this. He was right, you would have to pay for what you had done. His forward actions, his anger excited part of you, that sinful part of you.

“Good,” Alastor said as he pulled his cock from his pants. He wasn’t as hard as you had expected, considering how forward he had been behaving. “Now put your mouth to good use, open wide.” 

Putting pressure down on your jaw, he didn’t give you much choice but to follow his order or collapse to the ground. With his other hand, he guided his half-mast cock to rest on your lower lip. 

“If you bite me, I assure you, it will be the last thing you do. Am I clear?” 

“Yes,” you struggled to say. 

Once satisfied, Alastor removed his fingers from your mouth and pushed his hips forward. 

Never had you done something so lewd as what Alastor was clearly demanding from you. That didn’t stop you from wrapping your lips around his member and sucking. The suction pulled him slightly deeper into your mouth, but with no lubrication, that was as good as it was going to get. 

You stuck your tongue out, running it around his shaft just past where your lips reached before trying again with slightly better results. 

“You can touch me.” Alastor said snidely from above you. “Or are you too dumb to use your hands?” 

Your reply was little more than a muffled sound as you reached up for him. Trembling fingers wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady as you pulled off of his cock, letting it fall from your lips with a pop. He twitched in front of your face, stiffer now than he had been before, but far from what you expected he could become. 

You swallowed thickly, coming to terms with the fact that the price you would pay for your terrible decision was to pleasure the man. You could do this. Eyes flicked up to Alastor, reminding yourself that he was an attractive man. There were worse men in the world to pleasure, even if you were having to do so with your mouth. 

One more deep breath and you leaned forward, sticking your tongue out and running your tongue over the underside of his cock. The skin was salty and velvety smooth under your tongue’s caress. He twitches against your lips, growing harder as you placed soft kisses and kitten licks along the slit in his head. 

Once he was harder and covered with trails of your saliva along his length, you wrapped your lips around his cock again, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you sucked at him. 

Bracing yourself against his thighs, you pushed your head forward, taking in as much of him as you could. When your lips caught on dry shaft, you pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva coating him. When the head of his cock was just kissing your lips, you sank down again. Your lips gathered the saliva that had been cooling on his skin, smearing it lower as you took him as deep as you could. 

You repeated the process again and again, running your tongue around him. This wasn’t something you had ever done before. You were disgusted with yourself when you realized you were enjoying the feeling of running his cock in and out of your mouth. The feeling of his hips flexing, fighting back the urge to thrust, was as intoxicating as the musky smell of him, pure clean man. 

The feeling of Alastor’s hand on the back of your head startled you out of the trance you had fallen into. Your eyes, having fallen to little more than slits, fluttered open to look up at him. 

“Good girl, but you can do better, can’t you?” Alastor laughed as you blinked up at him. 

He didn’t give you a chance to offer any sort of agreement. Hips bucked forward as his hand pushed your head forward. The soft head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat, causing you to cough. A rich moan fell from Alastor’s lips as your throat spasmed around him. 

You gasped for breath as he pulled back, only to have your airway choked off as he thrust into your mouth again and again. Fingers bunched into the fabric of his pants as you looked up at him with wild, tearful eyes. His brown eyes, once seeming so warm, looked into yours with cold desire as tears ran down your cheeks. 

“Swallow,” He said as he pressed the head of his cock into the back of your throat harder. 

You did, though you hadn’t intended to. It was a reflex as you tried not to gag on him. The head of his cock pressed onward, cutting off what little ability you had to breathe. 

“Relax,” he soothed, thumb caressing your head before he pulled you back off him. “Breathe, now.” He ordered as if you needed the encouragement. 

After gasping two panicked breaths in through your nose and around his cock, he shoved you forward again, hips flexing. Again, he pressed against your throat and you knew what he wanted. Battling every instinct in your body, you tried to relax and swallow, allowing him to cut off your airway. 

“Good girl,” you hated how your thighs twitched at the praise. 

Alastor thrust into your throat again and again, each time taking his cock deeper was easier. That did nothing to calm the panic in your eyes, slow the tears running down your face, or relax your grip on his thighs. 

“You’re taking me in your throat so good,” Alastor praised, working his cock past the back of your throat again and again, chasing his release now as he looked down at you. 

Spit gathered, bubbles forming from your gasped attempts at breathing in a ring around the base of his cock. He could feel it dripping down his balls, soaking into his pants. It ran down your chin as well, dripping off in long strings as it soaked into your blouse. 

“You look so pretty like this,” Alastor cooed as he lost his rhythm, release drawing near. “Taking your punishment so well. Won’t do that again, will you?” 

Your throat vibrated around him as you tried to answer, unable to form anything more than a sound smothered by his cock. That was all it took for him to reach his peak, balls tightening as he shoved your head forward. 

He twitched in your mouth, seed spilling down your throat in hot ropes. The curls at the base of his cock tickled your nose as he thrust deeper and deeper, not allowing you a moment to breathe. Seed poured into your throat, coating the back of your tongue when he would pull back, hardly giving you a chance for air before shoving forward again. 

Black swam in front of your eyes as you pushed weakly against his thighs. Only when he no longer twitched did he pull you back from him enough for you to pull a proper breath into your burning lungs. When his hand left the back of your head, you fell to the ground in a heap.

Alastor stood over you, cock softening considerably and yet still standing on display. After a few moments, he knelt down next to you, fingers caressing down your arm. Your body shuddered as you gasped for air, throat raw from the abuse. 

“You did very good for me,” Alastor spoke softly, “Very good indeed. I’m afraid I got a little carried away with you, didn’t I?” 

“Please,” you whispered, looking up at Alastor with red-rimmed eyes, cheeks flushed. 

“I know,” Alastor chuckled darkly, taking in how pretty you looked with your lips red and swollen. His cock, still hanging from the front of his trousers, twitched as he stiffened again. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” 

[lambcultist]

potter!ellie headcanons.

this came to me in a dream and gave me severe heart palpitations. these are headcanons in a story format, lots of yapping. enjoy this. i love ellie my baby ♡ mdni  as  usual.  cw  ;  this  is  mostly  fluff  but  with  some  suggestive  descriptions and a little smut (fingering)  (my  hand  kink  got  in  the  way  of  my  better  judgement)

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who works at an art studio. she specialises in pottery and painting, sells her own work and assists during her boss' public lessons.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who you met at your friend's bachelorette party. one of those cliché 'paint n' sip' sessions, rich wine on your tongue and pre-made pots and plates to be glazed or painted. the throws of early autumn had the sun streaming through the studio's windows and warming the greenery, of which there was a lot—it was the most beautiful room you'd ever been in. shelves upon shelves of half-finished pieces, some glazed pieces waiting to be fired. paintings lining the wall, plants hanging from the ceiling and sitting atop each table.

you wish you could say differently, but she stole your attention from the moment you saw her. as the token single girl in your circle, you couldn't even tell if this was a genuine interest, pathetic loneliness, or the wine messing with your eyes.

her hair seemed to glow brighter in the sun, a reddish tinge to it. that day, red seemed to stand out. the wine, her hair, the exhaustion that flushed her cheeks. it was warm, after all, and ellie was on her feet giving whatever painting advice she could offer to your group.

it's definitely interest. that much, you could gather. you weren't just following her ever move with your eyes, you were seeking approval like a teacher's pet. your friends hadn't seen you so whipped in their lives—you looked lost if ellie wasn't speaking to you.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who knew you were into her from the start. though, she was far from unimpressed with the designs you chose to paint on your ceramic. the energy within the group was nothing she hadn't seen from a bachelorette's party, a group of women chuckling over their shaky lines and poor artwork all born from tipsiness.

"well, look at that. one of you chicks is actually talented." "what, me?" you couldn't help laughing at yourself, yet the look on her face was so serious that your giggles trailed off into awkwardness. "yeah, duh. do you paint often?" simple questions felt like an interrogation, the fact worsened by your friends' laughter. ellie was so casual, but you felt anything but. her leaning against an empty chair, muscular arms flexing, and her gaze cutting into you... "not really, no... just random sketching every now and then." she nodded, and you, somehow, roped your way into meeting with her again. in fact, she was more eager than she initially seemed. "actually, i've been thinking about starting some kinda classes. a new hobby or something. pottery has been interesting to me—" "you let me know when you're free next."

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who gave you a one-on-one lesson in wheel throwing. it was an intimate lesson. she begged her boss to let her have the studio to herself late one night, which honestly isn't a rare occasion as she often stays late to work on pieces alone. but it was harder considering she was bringing you in this time around.

ellie was perfect. a little awkward, but she was teaching you what she does best, and every little thing had your heart pumping out of your chest. lots of time was wasted on failed creations—wheel throwing is hard for beginners. she was sat behind you, wide hands guiding yours. your forearms were muddy and all you could really focus on was the warmth of her breathing against the side of your neck.

when it came time to pay for your lesson and wrap things up, she pushed back your card. "no payment, darlin'. it was a date."

was it? she never said so before. but she was smug at the look on your face, lamely shrugging her shoulders and asking if a second date—a far less messy one—was on the cards.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who was thoughtfulness-personified. each date she gifted you something handcrafted or painted. even a small sketch on a napkin on weeks that she couldn't catch a proper break. she was a passionate person, and couldn't help mixing her greatest passion with her newest—art, and you.

your very quickly started to run out of space to store everything. but as a girl who valued being of service to her lover, ellie happily volunteered to build you new shelving units just to keep her art in.

she'd make you things like this...

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who lets you chill at the studio even without permission from her boss. she treats you like her very own little assistant, helping her clean up and giving her your own artistic input on projects. you could sit and watch her for hours. hair in her face or thrown back into a little bun, an old wife-beater on and legs spread around the spinner. the look of concentration—brows furrowed, lips pursed, as she carefully shapes the clay. her hands one of your favourite parts; veiny, skilled. bony fingers working the clay effortlessly.

she had made it extremely clear that she doesn't mind a little mess, whether it be clay on her hands or your sticky essence dripping down her fingers like honey.

no, you aren't subtle. she knows how you get, watching her work. on the days she stays late, she'll get you to help her clean up before pushing you onto a table. ellie knows you're already wet from dreamy kisses you shared as she was working and sweet talking you.

"mhm, good girl, just like that, yeah? my patient girl." she'll coo to you as she works her fingers into your pussy, commending you for waiting so prettily and even at times being the perfect muse for a painting. but she won't stop until her fingers are glazed, and like a good girl indeed, you'll let her slip her digits into your mouth so you can suck 'em clean.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who asked you to marry her two years later with a custom-made ring dish.

[vampsywrites]

IV — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Making out, Mentions of blood, Arguments, Physical Fights, Protective Neteyam, Slight Jealous Neteyam

Word Count: 5k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

"Control your breath, like a soothing river finding its rhythm."

Today's lesson was a departure from the usual climbing sessions you've had the last months. Neteyam had proven himself more than capable of scaling the heights with ease, showcasing his prowess as a skilled and agile climber. It was time to advance his training further and introduce him to a new and essential skill: the art of breath control.

As Omatikaya, he lacked the enhanced lung capacity that your own physiology provided. Over generations, your people had adapted to the challenging conditions of Pandora's higher elevations, making your lungs incredibly efficient at utilizing the limited oxygen resources available. This biological disadvantage of his made it all the more crucial for Neteyam to learn proper techniques.

Sitting cross-legged opposite each other, knees touching, your hands gently pressed against his diaphragm and chest as you began the lesson.

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose," you instructed softly. "Fill your lungs to their fullest capacity, and feel the air spreading to every corner, energizing your body."

Neteyam followed your guidance, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled deeply through his nose. His chest rose, and you could feel his abdomen expanding under your touch as he took in the breath. His inhale was steady but not as deep as you wanted it to be.

"Remember to ease your body," you pointed out gently. "Try again. I want you to hold that breath for a moment, just a beat longer than you're used to. Then release the air slowly through your mouth. Let it flow out like a gentle stream, not a gusty wind."

Neteyam complied. He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath through his nose, following your guidance carefully. His chest expanded further this time, and you could feel the tension in his body as he held his breath for a moment before exhaling slowly through his mouth.

"You are doing well," you beam.

Despite appearing as though you were focused on teaching Neteyam, your gaze occasionally shifted to the others around you. In the distance, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Kiri were having their own lessons, led by a skilled warrior-hunter from your clan. It seemed as though they were learning well, albeit still displaying moments of clumsiness.

These past few months, normalcy resettled itself in the Sully family rather quickly, like a piece of a puzzle that’s been jostled loose slotting seamlessly back into place.

Kiri, in particular, seemed to be in her element — lost in a world of her own. The girl had long wandered away from her group, traversing the slope of the rock with a skill that far surpassed her experience. She was completely absorbed in the breathtaking views the mountain provided and the wild flora that adorned its sides.

Tuk, on the other hand, was having a blast with a group of younger kids. They were energetically bouncing off the lower parts of the rock wall with their ropes, playing and laughing together. Their youthful enthusiasm was contagious, and it brought a nostalgic smile to your face, reminding you of your own childhood.

Lo'ak had also adapted smoothly, effortlessly climbing higher peaks with a few Na'vi your age. He appeared at ease, his initial apprehension towards the heights now gone as he engaged in friendly banter and conversations with your people.

“I think you’re just using this as an excuse to feel me up, syulang.”

Neteyam's voice draws your attention away, his calloused hands cupping over yours and pressing them flat against the planes of his chest and abdomen. His dark azure skin was smooth beneath your touch, the defined muscles firm and sculpted, evidence of his disciplined training and physical prowess as a warrior.

A cross frown danced on your lips as you retorted, "It is you who is placing my hands over your skin. I am just making sure you're learning properly. “

Neteyam's lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I don't see you removing them," he quipped, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of your hand.

With a shake of your head, you slap at his side of his ribs, eliciting a grunt of surprise from the man.

"Enough. Show me the form I taught," you instruct, shifting back into your role as his teacher.

Neteyam does his breathing exercises accordingly, and you watch with a keen eye, pleased to see his improved technique.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

"Yes," you nod approvingly, genuinely impressed, "that is good."

As the lesson continued to flow smoothly, you instinctively moved closer to Neteyam, wanting to better feel the rise and fall of his chest as he practiced his breathing. In response, Neteyam couldn't resist the impulse to pull at your arms, playfully coaxing you into his lap.

"Skxawng! " With a laugh, you surrendered and settled into his embrace.

Fronts firmly pressed against each other, the closeness between you felt comforting and familiar. It was like two halves of a whole coming together, bodies fitting together so naturally that it was as if they were meant to be in this position.

Neither of you made a move to break the embrace. There was no rush, no need to move on from this moment of connection. Instead, you found yourself cupping his face in your hands, a rare smile gracing your lips as you gazed down at him. Neteyam's fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, fiddling with the back of your woven chest piece, causing a delightful shiver to travel down your spine. The simple touch spoke volumes, conveying a level of intimacy that went beyond words.

"I am still so impressed at how fast you have learned," you whisper softly.

"I have a great teacher," Neteyam laughs, his tail coiling around your thigh in an affectionate manner. Mirroring his actions, your tail trails up his torso, exploring his rugged skin before wrapping itself around his forearm.

As your hands move to his sides, intending to trace comforting circles, you notice a sudden jerk from Neteyam, followed by a low hiss slipping from his lips. In an instant, worry floods your senses, and you draw away from him, giving him space.

"What is it?" you say in panic, your eyes quickly scanning his figure for any signs of distress. They land on small, bloodied scratch marks by his ribs, and realization washes over you.

"Ah," you grimace, a hint of shame in your voice as you hastily reach into your medicinal pouch, your fingers searching for a specific bottle. "I apologize. I did not realize my claws were digging into your skin."

Neteyam offers a reassuring smile, though you can tell that he isn't blaming you in the slightest. "It's alright," he says. "You are acting like I was just maimed. These are little scratches, nothing serious."

You appreciate his attempt to alleviate your concern, knowing that he is not blaming you in the slightest. Still, you find the bottle you were searching for and carefully apply the healing ointment to the scratch marks, your touch featherlight. Neteyam observes your hands move swiftly, appreciating the skill with which you handle the situation.

As Tsahìk, you were used to being gentle and careful with your touch, but there were moments when your physical attributes could unintentionally cause harm. At the tips of your slender fingers were rugged and curved structures resembling claws. This unique feature was a defining characteristic of your people, granting you a remarkable advantage in navigating challenging terrains with ease.

Once you finish applying the ointment, Neteyam takes ahold of your hands, dragging them up until they are eye-level. The warrior's touch is tender as he begins to trace his finger along the curve of your claws. His eyes study the intricate detailing, admiring the look of your unique appendages.

When relaxed, your fingers appeared deceptively normal, concealing the sharp daggers within. But with a simple flex of your hand, the claws emerged gracefully. During his lessons, you would usually keep them out, ready to demonstrate and assist him at any moment.

"I should have been more careful," you murmur, withdrawing your claws.

Neteyam shakes his head, his expression gentle and reassuring. "It's not your fault." He then holds your hands in his, his large palm practically engulfing yours. "Your baby hands did not cause much damage anyways."

In offense, you playfully slap his shoulder, your mouth dropping open in feigned shock. "I will have you know that these 'baby hands' have scaled mountains and traversed terrains you cannot begin to imagine!"

Neteyam raises an eyebrow, pretending to be unimpressed, but a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. "Oh, I am sure they have."

The carefree scene is abruptly interrupted as a shadow suddenly looms over you. Lifting your gaze, you find a familiar face twisted into a stern expression, the lines of displeasure etched across his edged features.

"Tserat," you spat the name out as if it were a poison lathered on your tongue, your disdain for him evident in the sharpness of your tone.

Throughout your life, this man had been a constant thorn in your side, always critical of your choices and quick to engage in arguments.

Among many, his vehement disapproval of your sudden engagement with the eldest Sully boy was no secret, and you were well aware that he had something to say about it now.

The Na'vi acknowledged you with a forced smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was a flicker of malice in his gaze as he shifted his focus to Neteyam, sizing up the warrior with a critical eye.

"Forest boy, I see you're enjoying your little lesson," Tserat quipped with a mocking tone. "Didn't know you needed such close instruction."

"We were just practicing some breathing techniques," Neteyam replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he maintained a remarkable composure despite the charged atmosphere. The venomous tone with which Tserat addressed him was not lost on the Omatikayan, but he chose not to acknowledge it — avoiding any unnecessary conflict.

And yet, Tserat's taunts only continued as he stepped closer, trying to provoke a reaction. "A lesson on breathing techniques?" he scoffed. "Those are only given to little children."

Your patience was wearing thin, and frustration seeped into your voice as you snapped back at him, "Why do you come to us? What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to know why you are allowing him to seduce you like this," Tserat hissed, his glare intensifying. "This vrrtep—"

The derogatory word hit a nerve, and anger surged within you. Snarling in response, your tail whipped around angrily, "You speak to future Olo'eyktan, Tserat!"

"Future Olo'eyktan?" Tserat scoffed derisively. "The halfbreed can barely scale up a hill! A forest dweller like him wouldn't last a day with our mountain-born warriors, let alone dare to lead them."

"You would do well not to underestimate him," you spat back with a fiery edge, warning firm as you stood your ground, defending Neteyam. "He is embracing our ways with utmost respect and honor, more than some who were born into it."

"This outsider can learn, but his roots are deep in the forest. He will never truly understand the heart and soul of our people." Tserat remarked, face twisted in a hateful sneer. Then, his attention shifted to Neteyam, words dripping with scorn, "You should just go away!"

"Tserat—" you interject, but your words are cut short when a strong hand latches onto your elbow, shutting down the stream of your furious thoughts.

Neteyam steps closer, his hands now moving to gently grip at your waist, seeking to ground you.

"Leave it," he urges softly, trying to diffuse the tension. "Leave it, tìyawn."

You oblige, trying to shift your focus to Neteyam, desperately wanting to tune out Tserat's jeers, to let them fade into the background like distant echoes. But you knew him all too well; if he was anything, he was relentless.

"Stupid girl," the hunter hisses, his words laced with venom, as he whips his head back in agitation. "Always going head first. Never thinking!"

"Watch your tone," Neteyam growls under his breath, the low rumble vibrating through his chest like distant thunder, as his tail wraps itself around your hips protectively. Though his eyes remain fixed on Tserat, Neteyam's senses are on high alert, attuned to every nuance of your body language—from the subtle shift of your ears pinning back against your head to the coiling of your tail low by your feet.

At the sight of your clear discomfort, his other hand itches at the side of his hip where his blade was, instincts screaming for him to act.

"Hey!" The loud voice of Lo'ak booms across the clearing, announcing his arrival. His eyes narrows as he strides forward, each heavy step accompanied by the rhythmic swing of his braids and the clicking of beads.

"Fuck is your problem?" Lo'ak scowls, his tone laced with anger and disdain. He forcefully shoves Tserat back, nearly knocking the man off balance. The grin Tserat flashes at the Omatikaya in response is nothing but a display of teeth and pure viciousness.

"Look who's here, another half-bred freak," Tserat bites back as he pushes against Lo'ak's shoulders, attempting to regain some ground.

Kiri, appearing in a disheveled mess but fierce as ever, storms into the scene — anger lacing her features. Without hesitation, she raises her voice, directing her anger at Tserat.

"Leave us alone!" Kiri shouts as she takes hold of Lo'ak's arm, preventing her younger brother from making any rash moves. But before she can persuade Lo'ak to calm himself, he wrenches his arm free from her grasp.

Without a second thought, Lo'ak hurls himself forward, his fist colliding with Tserat's jaw in a sickening thud. The hunter's head snaps to the side, blood spewing from his split lip as he's left momentarily stunned. After coming to his senses, Tserat snarls, eyes filled with rage as he hits back at Lo'ak with an equal measure of force.

Both of them grapple each other, bodies locked in a struggle. In the chaos of the crossfire, Tserat unexpectedly knocks into you, catching you off guard. Your feet tangle, and you stumble backward, unable to maintain your balance. With a harsh thud, you crash onto the unforgiving dirt ground, pain flaring through your body.

"Tserat!" you shriek, a mixture of anger and pain lacing your voice.

Before you can fully gather your bearings, Neteyam is already in action. In one fluid and furious motion, he lunges forward and shoves Tserat away from his brother, the sheer force of the push sending the hunter hurtling back into the rugged rock face of the mountain. The impact reverberates through the air, a loud thud echoing in the clearing, followed by the rumble of loose stones tumbling down the slope.

Dust billows up around Tserat, momentarily obscuring his figure in a haze of grit and debris. As the cloud of dust clears, Tserat emerges, his eyes burning with a dangerous glint, his rage undeterred by the impact.

Neteyam's lips curl back into a snarl, fangs bared in an unmistakable display of aggression. A guttural hiss then erupts from his lips, a growl that emanates from deep within his chest. It's a primal warning, a clear message that he will not tolerate any further harm directed towards you or anyone else he cares about.

"You—!" Tserat, refusing to back down, meets Neteyam's hiss with one of his own, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the axe at his hip.

Neteyam's response is swift and decisive. He too arms himself, unsheathing his knife. Its sharp metallic sound rings out like a battle cry, slicing through the air with a deadly "shhlck!" The blade gleams in the dappled sunlight, its edge honed and ready for any threat that may come his way.

As the pain from the earlier shove courses through your body, you grit your teeth and rise to your feet, adrenaline fueling you. You rush to Neteyam's side, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your trembling hand as you press it against his chest.

"Ma'Neteyam" you hush. "Mawey. It is alright. It is alright."

Tserat's eyes burn with envy and resentment as he watches the bond between you and Neteyam, a bond that he can't comprehend, much less accept. To him, it's a betrayal, a disloyalty to your people.

The way your touch traced the outlines of Neteyam's skin, the concern in your eyes, and the unwavering support you offered—it all but intensified his misplaced fury. The sight of your closeness with this outsider feels like a knife twisting in his heart, fueling his anger and pushing him to the brink of it all.

Driven by a whirlwind of emotions, Tserat lunged toward you both with a roar of anger. But before he could reach you, a commanding voice cut through the air like a thunderclap, halting him in his tracks.

"Ftang!"

As you turn around, you see your mother landing with a mighty thump, her ikran letting out a shrill, piercing cry. The elderly chief dismounted and approached your group with a stony expression, her fur coat still adorned with remnants of snow.

With every step, your mother shed away her usual warm and caring persona as Iumayi and slipped into the familiar face of Olo'eyktan. Ruthless, cold, Olo'eyktan.

"Why are you here, boy?" she hissed, her icy gaze remaining fixed on Tserat. He looked away, clearly disgruntled and tense under the weight of her scrutiny. ”You disobeyed direct orders! You are supposed to be on patrol! Instead, I see you stirring up a fight!"

Amidst her tirade, your mother's gaze locked onto yours. Her stern expression softened momentarily as Neteyam rushed to help you up, his touch tenderly tracing the outlines of your bruises. The sight of her child in distress stirred her maternal instincts, but she swiftly composed herself, tearing her gaze away from the display of care between you and Neteyam, refocusing on the matter at hand.

"Olo'eykte," Tserat gritted his teeth, his words now flowing in the Iuva'rian dialect, knowing that Neteyam couldn't understand it, "Can you not see this mockery of a union? Y/N was promised to me."

"It doesn't matter what you believe was promised," your mother stated resolutely, switching her language to match his. "Eywa did not will for your union to happen. The Great Mother guides us all, and sometimes our paths lead us in different directions."

As his ears pinned back, a hint of vulnerability flashed in Tserat's eyes. Frustration, resentment, and envy tangled together, gnawing at his heart.

The memory of your father's vision surged in his mind, a painful reminder of what could have been. He recalled how the Olo'eykte had approached him, believing it was he who was in the vision. "A mighty warrior, fierce and protective of his people," she had said, her eyes ablaze with belief in his destiny.

With those words echoing in his ears, Tserat had undergone rigorous training, honing his skills and preparing himself for the role he believed was his birthright. But all of that changed when the Sullys arrived. With Neteyam's emergence as Toruk Makto's son, everything shifted.

The vision, once meant for Tserat, was now directed toward Neteyam, a forest dweller with no ancestral ties to the clan. The mantle of leadership, which he had longed for and devoted himself to, was abruptly snatched away, as if it had never truly been within his grasp.

"Everything is changing," Tserat spat out, hurt etched across his features. "This family brings destruction and war wherever they go. What's to say they won't bring it here?"

"This warrior," Tserat turned to look at Neteyam, his expression brimming with disdain."—does not even know how to breathe our air properly. And you want him to lead us?"

"This is not the time or place for a challenge," Iumayi scorns. "If you believe yourself more worthy to lead, you will have your opportunity to prove it in a ritual battle after he completes the coming of age ceremony."

Tserat ran his tongue over his lips, his emotions carefully hidden behind a neutral mask. With a sigh, he averted his gaze, locking onto the ground, refusing to make eye contact with the chief.

The tension in the air was palpable as the confrontation reached its conclusion. Tserat eventually turned and left, his departure marked by one last glowering look directed Neteyam's way.

Neteyam, still holding you close, sensed the lingering unease and decided it was best to move away from the scene. With one arm wrapped protectively around you, he bid a goodbye to your mother and led you toward Seze.

The Omatikayan carefully lifted you up and secured you onto her back, ensuring your safety as he climbed on behind you.

"Irayo," you whisper. Neteyam's strong arms encircled you, and you leaned back, resting against him

"Kea tìkin," Neteyam hums.

Neteyam had led you to a secluded green clearing hidden deep in the heart of the valley. The tall, ancient trees stood as protective guardians, shielding you both from the prying eyes of the outside world. The rustling leaves and the distant songs of wind created a calming atmosphere, offering a private haven for you and Neteyam to grapple with the emotions that had been swirling between you.

Approaching the dense thicket of trees that hovered over the peak, your steps faltered when Neteyam's rough fingers wrapped around your elbow, gently pulling you back. His hand then rested softly on your hip, thumb tracing soothing circles on your striped skin.

The weight of moodiness still clung to you like a stubborn fog, but his touch and tender words began to penetrate that cloud, slowly lifting the veil of uncertainty that had settled.

"What's wrong? Talk to me, baby," Neteyam murmured, the foreign English endearment slipping off his accented tongue as smooth as the cascading waters of a tranquil stream.

Despite his plea, your lips were sealed shut, teeth biting down on the plump flesh, eyes refusing to look away from the blooming purple bruises on your skin. Faintly, you felt a burning sensation building up on your waterline, an all-too-familiar sign of tears threatening to spill over. It was an emotion you had long tried to suppress over the years, but the events of the day had taken their toll on your strength.

"Sweet girl," Neteyam soothed, his thumb pressing onto your lips and gently easing it away from your fangs. He then reached out to brush a reassuring hand against your cheek, guiding your watery gaze to meet his. The sight of your unshed tears pierced through him like a spear, striking a chord deep within his heart.

"Tserat is a fool," you drew in a shaky breath, the frustration evident in your voice. "Stubborn. Resistant to change!"

"I saw," he acknowledged with a low chuckle, but his expression softened with understanding. "People like him hold on to old ways out of fear. But change is the natural course of life. Do not worry, they will come to understand soon. Give them time."

Neteyam then paused, his eyes taking you in, a rugged hand running up your back in a comforting gesture. The forest around you seemed to grow quieter. "You two seemed to know each other…"

You nodded, a mix of emotions welling up inside you as memories of the past flooded back. "Yes," you replied, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "We were once very close. Me and him were promised."

"Oh," Neteyam breathed out, his voice tinged with a deep, rich green envy that simmered just below the surface. The intensity in his eyes blazed, and a hint of possessiveness seeped into his tone.

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, drawing you closer to him, and you willingly leaned into his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold.

The lithe form of his tail swished from side to side, revealing the restlessness he felt, while his eyes remained fixed on yours, guarded yet filled with a yearning for understanding. You could tell the man before you bled with questions, but he was treading carefully, respectful of your boundaries and not wanting to intrude.

It was something you had noticed over the past few months spent together. Neteyam, a warrior at heart, was skilled at concealing his emotions. He had a way of pushing down his feelings, riding out pain - both emotional and physical with a stoic determination until they dissipated. His strength and resilience were admirable, and you respected his ability to handle difficult situations without faltering.

But as the days turned into weeks and then months, a part of you longed to see more of his vulnerability, to understand the layers beneath his tough exterior. You wanted to know the man beyond the warrior, the man behind the title of future Olo'eyktan, the person he was when he let his guard down.

In moments of quiet intimacy like this, you caught glimpses of tenderness in him, emotions he carefully kept in check. It made you feel that you were so close to understanding him on a deeper level, yet there was still a distance that kept you from fully unraveling the complexities of his heart.

"I said once," you reiterated gently, wanting him to know that the past was merely a stepping stone that led you to him. "I did not go through with the ceremony."

His grip on your waist softened, and he pulled you even closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. It felt as if the world around you had melted away, leaving just the two of you in that secluded green clearing.

"Why did you not?" Neteyam's question hung in the air like a delicate thread, his voice barely above a whisper, brimming with vulnerability.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the topic of conversation causing your heart to race. The freckles upon his nose and forehead caught the golden rays of the setting sun, making him look even more mesmerizing as his eyes languidly traced your face.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you found the strength to answer honestly. "I did not want him," you stated firmly, making it clear that your heart had never truly belonged to Tserat.

Ears pulled flat back, he stepped closer and found his hand reaching out to take a hold of his your hip. His gaze was dark, untamed like the forest as flickers of emotion flashed across the specs of gold, brown and green in his eyes. The tension between you and him thickened, fueled by a potent mix of jealousy, desire, and the simmering anger from the confrontation.

"And who do you want?" Neteyam's voice was a husky murmur, tinged with longing. He searched your eyes for an answer, almost as if he feared what would come out of your lips.

And you knew that this was the moment of truth, where your confession could either bring you closer or drive you apart.

In the past few months, both of you had danced around the touches of affection, tiptoeing around the unspoken feelings that had quietly but intensely grown between you. On the surface, it seemed as if you were merely fulfilling your duties, following the paths arranged for you. But beneath it all, there was something deeper, a bond that had become undeniable.

Standing before Neteyam, you could feel the tremor in his touch, the unspoken fear of rejection. But there was also a glimmer of hope shimmering in those golden pools, a belief that maybe, just maybe, you would choose him.

Without skipping a beat, you looked up into his eyes, your own gaze unwavering. "You."

"I want you, Neteyam."

Neteyam felt his heart leap to his throat at your words, desire chipping away at was left of the walls he had built up. His grip on you tightened and he looked into your eyes, seeking permission for what he was about to do, gaze gliding down to your lips.

Without words, you both knew what you wanted, what you needed. You understood the unspoken plea in his eyes and nodded, granting him permission to close the distance between you.

Neteyam's hand moved from your hip to your lower back, pulling you closer as he drew you into a deep kiss. Your fingers threaded through his dark hair, and you felt the roughness of his braids against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of earthy warmth and a hint of something uniquely him.

"I want you too," he breathed out against your lips, attempting to pull you even closer, molding his body onto yours. "More than anything."

Minutes pass and the intensity of your passionate kiss gradually subsided. Finally, you both drew away, finding yourselves breathless yet exhilarated. The rush of emotions still coursed through your veins, leaving you both trembling with the weight of the moment.

Neteyam's forehead pressed against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours as you gazed into each other's eyes, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

"I see you," you finally gasped out, your voice hitching. Those three simple words carried the weight of all your feelings, a declaration of your understanding and acceptance of him, flaws and all.

Neteyam froze, his breath catching in his throat. The exhale from his lips was entirely broken, as if you had stolen his last remaining breath from his lungs. Slowly, he found himself giving in to the overwhelming rush of emotions, the walls he had built over years finally falling down in ruins.

"I see you," Neteyam returned, accent thick, voice breathless and guttural. He leaned in to kiss you once more, sealing his emotions with the tender touch of his lips against yours. Those three words were repeated over and over against your lips, a desperate show of his affections.

Neteyam bared everything he had inside, his deepest desires, fears, and dreams, pouring his heart before you like a crimson offering as he hoped beyond hope that you would handle it with the utmost care.

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

the relationship is established! now its time to plan on how to destroy it. /hj

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[darlingofdots]

One of the first things I teach new students in my intro to literary studies class is that there is no definition of "literature" that includes everything you want it to but also excludes the things you don't want, and that no definition is ideologically or intellectually neutral. I use a specific text to teach this because I have to give them an exam at the end of the semester and need specific information for them to recall, but my secret agenda with this lesson is to dismantle the (conscious or unconscious) hierarchy we all have in our heads about what is Good Art. I also find that students tend to have very narrow expectations about what kind of literature they are going to encounter at university, and I don't blame them for that! But it's really important to me that they at least start to understand that every text is worth studying with the same amount of attention you would give to a Shakespeare play. The point of literary studies isn't to make some sort of judgement about quality, it's to understand how we tell stories and process our lives and communicate and how everything we do and experience influences everything else. On this website we sort of make fun of the "his wife has filled his house with chintz" post and of people who read "too much" into kids' TV but we should do this unironically! My main research focus is historical romance novels and people ask me all the time why I think they matter enough to write a book about, and I have to tell them that everything matters. I know a scholar who has worked on Sunday comic strips around the turn of the 19th century and we can learn so much about what people's lives were like from those! Nothing is too small or silly or "bad" to analyse. Understanding how a text works, what it does, where it comes from are all important and incredibly rewarding questions to ask! Every piece of writing is the result of a series of experiences and circumstances and choices that shape it and just being able to understand that is genuinely one of the most important things I hope my students learn from my classes.

[markrosewater]

If Universes Beyond is "Additive" as you said a few days ago, then why not make an "additional" format rather than forcing a change to Standard?

The psychographics are about the different ways you can psychologically approach the game.

If you’re a Spike, you’re about proving what you are capable of (which often means winning, but not always). That means you focus on picking the best card for the job at hand. That’s going to be dictated by card power and not creative decisions. Whether you like a creative execution (be it in-multiverse or Universes Beyond) or not simply isn’t the deciding factor.

If you’re a Timmy/Tammy, you’re about experiencing something. That means you pick the cards that best create the experience you want. If creative choices are a big part of that experience, then you will prioritize choosing cards that match what you want for your deck.

If you’re a Johnny/Jenny, you’re about expressing something. Your card choices are about you saying something about who you are. If creative choices are important to that message, it will impact which cards you play with.

The issue about mixing in-multiverse and Universe Beyond cards is only forced for the Spikes, because they’re the one psychographic that has to make choices irregardless of the creative execution of the card.

For the Timmy/Tammy and Johnny/Jenny players, if Universe Beyond cards dilute your experience, make other card choices. Don’t play with them.

That’s what I say about the cards being “additive”. You can add them to your deck if they enhance your experience. If they lessen your experience, don’t add them.

The big question is what matters most to you. If you’re choosing a card because it will increase your win rate, then you’re making a Spike-y decision. And that’s fine, but it means you’re prioritizing mechanics over flavor.

My core message is you the player have total power over what you play. You pick the format you play, you pick who you play with, and you pick the cards in your deck.

This issue isn’t new to Universes Beyond. Some people don’t like the cuteness of Bloomburrow, or the modernity of Duskmourn, or the famous characters in cowboy hats approach to Outlaw of Thunder Junction. If you want to make Spike-y decisions, then you play the card regardless of your personal opinion of the creative choices of the card.

Maybe you’re playing a card with a cutesy name you don’t enjoy, or a piece of art that’s not your style, or flavor text that you find groan worthy. That’s a decision you make when you build your deck and you choose what to prioritize.

Everyone has a different line of what creatively is acceptable, and it’s human nature to want to believe that your line is “the line”.

I’ve been doing this for a long time. Every line we cross is somebody’s line. But Magic, at its core, is about pushing boundaries and trying new things. It’s one of the defining qualities of the game.

My message is you can choose your own line. Magic adaptability allows you to play with what makes the game the most fun for you. You can choose to not cross your own line, but it does require you to prioritize that line over Spike-y decisions.

Look, we’re going to keep adding things to the game that players demonstrate they enjoy, whether that be mechanical or creative. It’s the defining quality of the game’s growth over the last thirty-one years.

And by the way, the data strongly, and I mean strongly, shows players enjoy Universes Beyond. All the people that made The Lord of the Rings the most popular set of all time are just as much Magic players as those that never purchased it.

And why not make an additional format? Because the data says there isn’t a large enough audience to support it. If there was, we’d make it. We’re very influenced by the desires of the players.

Our goal, as it has always been, is to make the best game in the world. We iterate, you give feedback, and we adapt. Lather, rinse, repeat.

One of the big lessons I’ve gotten designing Magic is that it’s going to adapt based on the totality of the desires of the players. Enough players like something, and the game starts adapting to it.

That adaptation is not always what I personally would choose, but over the years, I’ve come to realize the fact that the adaptation is not the choice of any one person, but the totality of the playerbase is the thing that makes Magic a game unlike any other.

It’s a living breathing entity that’s constantly becoming what its players want it to be. And that’s pretty cool.

[seat-safety-switch]

Earlier this week, one of my scientific companions in the field of industrial shitbox arts was killed. Don't worry, I didn't do it. I'm not even liable this time. Here's who is completely responsible: whoever the fuck makes Roombas.

Let's first speak to the normal people in the audience. When you get tired of your Roomba and want to get a new one, the old one gets "recycled." What this means is that it's put on eBay for parts. Someone new gets a cheap Roomba, you no longer have a junk Roomba sitting in your house, and the eBay middleman "recycles" about a hundred bucks into his pocket without doing any actual work.

Despite the fact that all of the rest of us have watched Brave Little Toaster during critical development periods in our lives, and imagine that the Roomba we are discarding would be much sadder in the junkyard than in a million pieces in our basement parts box, you still went and did it. You monster. And now someone else has your old Roomba. Statistically, they actually have several Roombae, because why else would they be buying parts for them from eBay?

What this all means is that humanity can be divided into two kinds of people, roughly: individuals with one Roomba, and folks with several dozen Roombas. There is, in theory, a group of people who own no Roombas whatsoever, but we can ignore them for the sake of this explanation. They have very sad lives and should get an eBay account going.

Long story short is that my buddy, who we'll call Ralph Hoover, was consumed by his robot vacuums. According to his GitHub account, the last thing he was working on was "swarm cleaning," where every Roomba in his home would be summoned to the same room and devour it in an ultra-efficient grid, phalanx-like, until it was perfectly cleaned in mere seconds. Anyway, it turns out that those babies can strip a man to the bone when you get in the way of about twenty of them. Good lesson for everybody, particularly that you should be pretty wary about looking for odd red stains on all the "for parts" Roombas that are going to be listed on eBay for the next couple of weeks.

[amymbona]

Being involved with Tashi, Patrick and Art - headcanons

It was really difficult to put this together without revealing my deepest secrets and ideas, just in case I finally write a full fanfiction one day 😔 Also... Is my Patrick bias showing?

At first, you are nothing but an ordinary girl at Stanford, having no involvement with tennis whatsoever. You find your way towards the sport though, or rather the people playing it, as you're a kind soul who offers tutoring lessons and writes articles in the school newspaper.

The first person to notice you is Art - the social butterfly himself - as the two of you share some classes, and he recognizes you on the court one day. You surprise him, though, by slipping right past him and running straight towards Tashi.

The moment she first sees you, all thoughts about tennis and school and Patrick evaporate from her brain. Suddenly, her mind is full of you. You're hers and she's yours.

It's such an unbelievable thing for Tashi to do, become almost obsessed with somebody, to the extent that she counts days until the new number of the newspaper comes out and she can read the interview you did with her. Even Art notices and he finds it quite silly, considering the odd dynamic that Tashi and Patrick's relationship has. And it's no secret he has a crush on both of you.

Pretty soon, you become Tashi and Art's thing - their friend that they both desire, while desiring other people as well - they make sure you're sitting at the bleachers for every match and show off in front of you. And you adore them deeply, finding them to be the best tennis players at Stanford.

They introduce you to Patrick, someone so similar and yet entirely different to them. The guy scoops you up like a tsunami, offers you your first ever cigarette and treats you as if you two have grown up together. Whatever Art and Tashi like, he likes as well.

The four of you finally get closer over multiple shared cans of beer - something nostalgic, a deja vu for the three that they don't tell you about - and all three of them ask to kiss you. You let them, of course.

Somehow, all three of them want you, need you so badly, all while still wanting one another. You become some sort of a glue which keeps them together - even though they were functioning almost perfectly before you showed up - and none of them notice the showing cracks which you failed to glue up.

Some time passes, you become Tashi's best of friends, her safe space and the only person she's willing to display her vulnerability in front of. The effect you have on her is unreal, she's genuinely at her best, healthy, taking care of herself, and all of that just because of you.

Patrick visits more often as well. Both him and Tashi seem to fight for your attention, so it's natural neither of them really minds, considering they are almost actively trying to cheat on each other with you. But you love both of them, plus Art, too equally and too much to nice any different in their behaviour. If anything, you're just happy that you found yourself in such a lovely group of friends.

You're with Art, both of you waiting for Patrick, when Tashi's injury happens. You clutches your hand like you're her guardian angel in the infirmary, begging you not to leave her, just don't leave her alone. When Patrick runs in, trying to talk to Tashi, you're lost, completely. And when Art kicks his best friend out - for reasons totally unknown to you - you're baffled. What is going on? Eager to get an answer, you run after Patrick, abandoning Tashi.

After that, crumbles into pieces. Patrick wouldn't talk to you, suddenly seeing Art and Tashi's influence in yourself and he can't stand that, because you were their first. And even if you choose to go after him, he knows he can't have you. Nor can he have Tashi and Art.

Tashi is devastated, she feels hurt and betrayed, even though you have visited multiple times at the hospital and brought her fruit and fresh clothes. Art spends most of his time by her side, and somehow, he's excused from school to provide her much needed support. She doesn't want you there.

Few months later, Tashi has completely erased you from her life - almost unwillingly, and despite your attempts to reach out and offer her your support - and leaves Stanford after some time. So the only one of the three who you remain in contact with is Art. His presence feels like a ghost's, he only reveals that he hasn't talked to Patrick once since that day and that Tashi is healing. Physically. But it's clear that mentally, she is completely devastated.

You graduate from Stanford by yourself, leaving everything behind the gates of the school, and get employed in an editorial office. It proves to be difficult to completely forget about the boys, since they are both very much active and have pursued tennis. And just to your luck, you've been promoted to a sports journalist.

Due to your profession, you're one of the first people in the world to discover that Tashi Duncan has married Art Donaldson and she's now his coach. It's like a punch in the gut when you are the one to interview the player at the US open in 2012 - many years after the whole Stanford drama.

He answers all your questions, his voice as soft as you remember it, and he tells you how pretty you look after you turn off the voice recording. You only thank him simply, and leave the place as quickly as possible, slipping right past Tashi without sparing her a glance.

About a year later, you run into Patrick - it's the most random of encounters - but the two of you just bump into each other at some random match where he's playing. And you learn that he is completely miserable, having slipped down from the peak of his career and still playing mainly to keep himself living at a decent level. He tells you he hasn't spoken to Art nor Tashi in years.

Few words in, few tears later the two of you end up drunk - completely fucking wasted, actually - and move it to the closest hotel room. Another night follows and then Patrick invites you for an actual date. That day, you discover a completely new person, a Patrick you never knew could actually exist under all that bravado.

One reckless decision follows another and you accept the silver ring that Patrick slips on your finger. The proposal is fairly romantic but simple and spontaneous at the same time, a pretty sunset in the background to make it look like a fairytale.

As Patrick's fiancée and later a wife - and as a journalist as well - you accompany Patrick to some matches. Yes, he has managed to crawl a bit higher again, having found much needed motivation in your presence and kindness. Just like you used to be an angel to Tashi, now you're one to him. Speaking of Tashi, it's inevitable, meeting her and her husband again.

It appears like a shot from a movie - hand in hand with Patrick, you stand in front of Tashi, who's hair is now a lot shorter, and not so cheery looking Art. All four of you are pretty unsure who to look at first. Luckily, Art is not here to play, but the two have been offered tickets to promote the Donaldson brand. You know the business, make a public appearance every now and then so the world knows they're still relevant.

While you hop away for a quick bathroom break in between the matches, unfortunately, Tashi is there as well. She pulls you into an empty stall and says that both her and Art miss you deeply. She doesn't say a word about Patrick. And she mentions her daughter - Lily - you know about the girl, her baby photos were all over Twitter. Then she kisses you and leaves.

Your and Patrick's relationship is odd, to say at least. It's not like he doesn't love you - god forbid that he feels anything other than deep affection towards you! - but there are just certain gaps. Despite finding nothing but unconditional support from you, Patrick is still unable to open up fully, to accept the loss of his two past loves, even though he has you now.

It's hard to talk about family life when the two of you are at it, and while you wish for a baby so deeply, Patrick can't really give that to you. And that pains him. Because Patrick wants nothing more than for you to be happy in life, but he is too afraid of having such a responsibility over somebody else. He can hardly take care or himself, how would he possibly take care of a baby?

And that's the reason why the two of you eventually divorce towards the end of the year 2017, because you needed something Patrick could never give you. And you wanted it, wanted it more than him. However, you never find another partner to conceive with, you can't bring yourself to fall for somebody else, not after the loss of Art, Tashi and Patrick.

Two years later, you're invited as one of the journalist to the challenger match in New York, completely unaware of the things that are about to happen. When you're getting all set in the hotel, a pretty lady named Helen, who's taking care of your check-in waves at somebody behind you. And that somebody, shows to be Patrick. You run away.

And just around the corner, you collide with Tashi. Ever so gorgeous, she offers you one of her smiles, a tired, appreciative one. There is no mention of the kiss exchanged few years ago. The only thing she says is that Art would love to see you. You tell her you still have the same phone number.

In the evening, as you're getting ready to go to bed, he messages you, asking to see you. A bit late for him, as you know he always used to go to bed early, insisting to live a healthy life. You know you really shouldn't, considering the three shouldn't be allowed a way into your life, but you let him come to your hotel room.

There, he crumbles in your arms wordlessly and lets you stroke his hair. You can sense there's something hidden behind his silence, something he'd like to speak about, but is too ashamed to say out loud. Later, he tells you he's retiring at the end of the season. While the two of you lay there in the dark, you stay unaware of Tashi's current meeting with Patrick. Art, he knows damn well.

The following day, everything is at the stake. You are at the stake, but you don't even know that. Stood on the very opposite of Tashi, where she is sat at the bleachers, staring at you through her sunglasses like the picture of guilt and repentance, as stiff as you don't know her.

You keep your eyes on all three of them, failing to note a single detail, to snap a single picture. Nothing. You only only stand there, glued to your spot behind the umpire's chair, watching Patrick and Art battle on the court. It's clear they're fighting for much more than a simple victory.

Art is doing his best but it's clear he's nowhere near as good as Patrick, and he seems to have almost resignated too, while Patrick remains smug and confident. Although his smirk falls every so often especially at those moments when he locks eyes with you. Then, he looks almost remorseful.

At one moment, Patrick takes a while to serve, rolling the green ball between his fingers and then holding it over the empty triangle of his racket. When he fires, Art doesn't budge at all. In front of you, Tashi is awkwardly fidgeting in her seat, her expression hard to read. Now, she seems to be avoiding your gaze.

The match turns into something harsher, fueled by something that's hard to describe, with both of the boys playing like their lives are on the line. Both of them keep gazing at Tashi, while she's trying to escape their eyes. It's messy, it's weird and you don't like it a bit. But then, all three of them turn to look at you. You're still there, watching them play. You haven't left. You never left.

The balls keeps flying left to right, grunts filling your ears, until the boys get so close to the net that it concerns you. At one final moment, the boys collide, hugging over the net separating the two of them like two good friends who haven't seen each other in years. Tashi jumps up, cheering, and you do as well, applauding them with a smile.

[teddypines]

The pretty things in life

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Summary: Y/N needing comfort after a long day and Logan being a carrying husband. Making sure his wife got all the love she deserves after a tough day.

Lost of fluff and use of multiple nicknames (Bub, kitty, Kitten).

Husband!Logan x Wife!Reader. Reader is a snow leopard mutant/hybrid in this, other feline creatures are possible too.

Note: happy New year everyone!! (This was totally not posted on accident). The little poem at the end is from the book 'Pillow Thoughts' by Courtney Peppernell. Words: 2097

Pictures and art from Pinterest, credits to the artist. I just put it together.

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Today wasn’t the greatest day, everything just seemed to go wrong. The children were louder than other days, the noise being a bit too much for Y/N’s sensitive ears, but she was going to finish her lessons. Already looking forward to cuddles in the nest with Logan after dinner. Needing her hubby for comfort, wanting to be wrapped in his arms and sent. But that sadly had to wait for a bit, only two more lessons to give and then she would be done.

“Next slice, please, Kurt.” Y/N said before Kurt tapped the laptop for the next slide of the presentation. “And here we see a painting of heterochromia. See how the artist put detail into every little coloured dot on the eyes.” Y/N explained as she looked at Kurt, giving him a little sign to put on the next slide. Until one of the teen’s put up their hand. “But miss what does this have to do with art?” 

“Good question, Alice, we are going to try and paint something as close to it's real life counterpart. Get it to look as realistic as you can, put in details that someone might not see at first. You can try to use different perspectives, see it in a different light and color. Just put on canvas what you see as best as you can.” Y/N explained as she showed the children a piece of art she did showing the beauty of something small yet so bright in color because of the lighting, in this case Beast's blue fur. “And if this doesn’t work for you, then do something else, be creative but keep the overall details in mind, it doesn’t even have to be big. Just paint or draw what you see.” 

With this the children went to work on their art as Y/N left the classroom to get a cup of tea and a few moments alone. Of course giving a few students the job to keep the others in check. Not wanting to come back to a destroyed classroom. 

Standing in the kitchen as the kettle boiled, thinking about how she could make it to the end of the day without feeling too overwhelmed. Unconsciously rubbing the ears on top of her head. Her tail moved around nervously in a way to try and calm herself down. She was so deep in though she didn’t even notice Logan slipping his arms around her waist. 

“What ya thinking about, bub?” He asked, making Y/N jump out of her thoughts. “Just what I have to do to survive the rest of the day.” She answered while leaning back against Logan, her tail going around Logan's leg to ground herself against him. “Awh, is my kitty a little overwhelmed and overstimulated?” Logan asked with a small smirk on his face. Which made Y/N grumble a bit in answer, knowing the tone in her husband's voice all too well. She reached up to grab her teacup from the cupboard.

“How about I join you for your lessons, that’s your last lesson of the day, right?” Logan suggested after kissing Y/N’s shoulder. Wanting her to know he was there for her, even in her overstimulated situation.“No, have one more after this one, but you don’t have to join me, you have your own classes.” She answered. Putting her tea bag into her cup, putting in the boiled water right after. “I finished for the day.” 

“Really? Owh, yeah, it’s wednesday.” Y/N realised as Logan took her mug, starting to lead Y/N back to her class, his hand on her lower back, just above her tail. Just a little bit of comfort he could offer her. “Come on love, after classes have ended I'll cuddle with you.” Logan promised with a smile on his face. “In the nest?” Y/N asked, giving Logan big kitten eyes. “Yes, in the nest, bub.”

<---------------------------------------------------->

Logan stayed by Y/N’s side as she helped the children with their art and taught the next class. He didn’t say a single word, he just looked grumpy with his arms folded over his chest and his feet on the desk. Some of the children did see a small glimpse of a smile on Logan’s face when Y/N looked back at him while she explained something about inspiration and making art about the things and/or people you love. Logan’s gaze made a few of the children giggle, and some of the girls just wished someone would look at them like how Logan looks at Y/N. He just really loves his wife and it showed.

If Logan could make art like his wife, he would make art about her, show her how he sees her every day, how beautiful she really is. Bring out her best features, her glowing eyes, her hair and those fluffy ears. That idiot tail that always found a place around his leg or her legs and the thighs he loved to nap on when he allowed himself. Sadly no one would ever see the way Logan sees Y/N since he sucks at art and photography doesn’t do her justice.

<----------------------------------------------------->

After classes had finally ended for the day and the kids had left the classroom, Y/N sat down in Logan’s lap and let out a sigh. “Good job, bub, you’re done for the day.” Logan whispered into Y/N’s ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Gently holding onto her as she lay her head on his shoulder. “Yeah… Now I want to go to the nest and cuddle, I really need cuddles right now.” Y/N responded as she buried her nose into Logan’s shirt, his scent calming her down a little. “And I could really use some dinner and a good drink, right about now.” She added. “Then let’s get you some dinner first, get you in the shower after and then we can cuddle in the nest.” Logan answered, taking charge. He knew exactly what Y/N needed when she was tired, so he was going to take care of her.

Logan wrapped Y/N’s arms around his neck and her legs around his waist before standing up from the desk chair. Holding her close to him, as he carried her. “What do you want for dinner?” He asked after getting out of the classroom and into the hallway. “Pasta, the good one.” Y/N answered. Logan grumbled a bit as Y/N answered, he knew which pasta she wanted. The only problem with this was that he didn’t make the pasta the way Storm made it. So he only had one choice, hope that Storm was making dinner tonight and that it was the pasta Y/N wanted and that she wouldn't get overwhelmed even more if it wasn’t the pasta she wanted. Y/N wouldn’t but Logan just wanted his wife to have the pasta she wanted.

As Logan carried Y/N to the kitchen, some of the children ran past the two. Also going to the kitchen for dinner. Bickering with each other about what they thought they were going to get for dinner. 

When Logan walked into the kitchen with Y/N he saw that it was Jean and Scott by the stove. Logan groaned a little when he found out it wasn’t Storm who made dinner. “What are you two making?” Y/N asked Jean as she looked over Logan’s shoulder, not really minding that it wasn’t Storm making dinner. "Lasagne." Scott answered, putting more sauce in the dish. Logan sighed in relief, lasagne was pasta too, that was good.

“Yeah, and we have garlic bread on the side and some salad if you want to be healthy.” Jean continued Scott's answer. “It will be ready in about forty minutes.” She added, already have read Y/N's thoughts about how long it was going to take until it was done. Y/N groaned but accepted It would take a little more time. “Logan? Can we shower now instead of after dinner? We have the time.” Y/N asked Logan, actually liking that they had time to shower now instead of after dinner. Logan nodded his head and took Y/N to their room after telling Jean and Scott they would be back for dinner.

Some of the children in the kitchen grumbled that they had to wait almost an hour before they could have dinner, not liking that dinner was later than usual. Not really caring that some of the adults had a mission or other adult tasks to do which made them start on dinner a little later. 

<----------------------------------------------->

Once in their bathroom Logan sat Y/N on the counter next to the sink. “Need me to shower with you, love?” Logan asked between gentle kisses on Y/N”s head. “Yes, I would like that, please.” She answered to which Logan nodded. “Alright, let me get some fresh towels and then I'll help you undress.” Logan said as he whipped underneath Y/N’s eye, brushing away some sleep. He stepped away from her and started to grab enough towels. Y/N on the other hand wasn’t really patient and got off the counter, already undressing herself and putting her clothes in the laundry. She made her way to the shower and turned it on, waiting for the water to become the right temperature. 

“Hey, I was going to do that for you kitten.” Logan laughed once he saw his wife already undressed and underneath the warm water of the shower. He placed the towels on the heater next to the shower before undressing himself. “Just wanted to be in the shower already.” Y/N explained as she appreciated the way Logan was undressing. Logan rolled his eyes playfully. “Such an inpatient and naughty kitten.” 

Y/N gave Logan a tired smile as he got into the shower with her. Placing her right hand onto his chest. holding back the desire to just press her face into his pec’s. Logan placed his own hand over Y/N’s, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. He looked down at Y/N, seeing just how tired she really was right now and how much the shower was helping her relax. Not a single word needed to be said between them. They just showered in the comfort of each other, Logan helping Y/N was her hair, ears and tail before she helped him wash his. After doing the whole shower routine Logan just held onto Y/N for a few minutes, just letting her know he was here for her, letting her lean on him. Telling her he loved her and other sweet nothings.

Getting out of the shower was difficult, but it happened because tummies started to rumble. Logan helped Y/N dry off and got her into some comfy clothes, his shirt and her favorite comfy pants. He dried her hair and fur, brushing it after. He got some comfy clothes for himself before looking at his watch. “Dinner will be ready soon, bub.” He announced. “Okiedokie.” Y/N answered as she reached out for Logan’s arm. Holding onto him as he led the way back to the kitchen. Logan was secretly liking how clingy Y/N was right now, she usually is when tired, but now she was just a little extra clingy and he loved it.   

<------------------------------------------->

Dinner was nice, a bit loud because of the inpatient and hungry kids, but the lasagna was amazing so that fixed everything for Y/N. They stayed a little longer at the dinner table for ice cream and talked about everything and nothing. Well it was mostly Logan and Y/N listening to the other, but they didn’t mind, it was nice to listen every once in a while. After dinner Logan carried Y/N back to their room. Gently laying her down on their nest, laying down next to her after she was settled. Logan made sure Y/N was tucked against him, holding a plushie he gave her for their first anniversary. Warm covers and blankets over the two of them before he kissed her head. “Sweet dreams, Love.” He whispered before watching her fall asleep. She was clearly too tired to stay awake to long for the cuddles she wanted.

Logan admired Y/N for a few minutes, looking at her fluffy ears and her cheeks. The way the bedside lamp made her face glow. She really was the prettiest thing he had ever sat his eyes on. “Of all the maps in the world, the only one I will follow is the map to your heart.” Logan whispered against Y/N’s forehead before leaving a kiss. He turned off the lamp and closed his eyes. Happily falling asleep in their nest, letting the comfort and warmth take over.

[cloudiewrites]

OMG. Hiiii. I love Tom Riddle and Theodore Nott. So I am totally going to ask you if you are comfortable to write either Professor Tom or a Professor Theo x fem reader fic with smut. Feel free to ignore this but I really struggle to find Professor Tom fics and Idk how to write them 😅

Professor Tom Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: strong language, toxic behaviour, manipulation, SMUT reader is a student in the beginning (still over 18!), reader becomes a little bit unhinged towards the middle (who wouldn't after meeting TR?) 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: Wow, this took me ages to post! I was having a break from this blog due to my exams, but I promise I will be more active from now on. Also, this is actually my first smut! (Idk how to write them either, so I do hope you like it.) I tried to build some plot into it, so it is not just filthy p*rn, haha. Thank you so much for your request! <3

There are moments that change your life. Moments when you realise you will never be the same and your whole existence is divided into two parts - before this, and after this.

For you, this moment was meeting Tom Riddle.

The memories of that rainy day when your gazes crossed for the first time continue to haunt your thoughts almost every second of your existence. And no matter how hard you try to forget, they become more and more vivid. Sometimes you wonder if you are actually reliving it or if it is just a fruit of your imagination.

The rain was so cold that day, that your whole body was shivering under your soaking clothes. You were running across the courtyard, trying to get inside as soon as possible. Both of your hands were clutching your bag on top of your head, trying to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You were almost at the door when your body collided with someone, and you lost your balance falling into a muddy puddle.

You looked up, ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever made you end up like this, but your words got stuck in your throat the moment your gaze crossed his.

Eyes as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair falling in elegant curls on top of the most beautiful face you have ever seen. He silently offered you his hand, before he took off his jacket and wrap it around your trembling figure.

"Are you alright?", he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, yet deep. You couldn't do anything else other than slowly nod before your cheeks turned a light shade of red. He offered you a small smirk, before guiding you inside the castle. No words were exchanged between you after that.

Looking back, you are sure that this was the moment that changed your life.

You didn't know who he was at first. He looked so young, that it was natural to assume he was your age. You have not seen him before, so he must be a transfer student, just like you were a year ago. "He did not wear a robe, so he must not been sorted yet", you said to your friends later that day and they just shook their heads. No one has heard of any transferring students this year, yet here you were claiming you have seen in the flesh the man of your dreams.

And you were almost convinced you were dreaming a few days later when you found yourself sitting in the back of the class, while he was neatly writing his name on the black board.

Professor Riddle.

"As your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I would like to establish a few ground rules right now", his voice was calm but dominant, "Always come prepared. I do not tolerate lazy students. No talking during class. No questions during lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you can either conduct your own research in the library or visit one of my additional sessions every third Friday of the month."

Unlike you, the majority of the students have already heard of Tom and some even knew him personally, as he graduated just a few years ago. They carefully listened to all his rules, noting everything they should do to stay on his good side. No matter the house, the respect and fear felt towards Tom was felt by all students. You would lie if you said that this did not include you.

Yet in two weeks time during his first Friday session, you found yourself leaning over your notebook, while Tom was calmly explaining the lesson material to you. You were nodding your head, not paying even a little bit of attention to what he was saying. All you could focus on was the sound of his voice and the tingles that covered your whole body every time he lifted his eyes to your face, checking if were actually following.

"I am curious, miss, for the real purpose of your visit today", he said once you started packing your bag. You immediately froze in place, cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your trembling hands closed your bag before you turned to him with a tight-lipped smile.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean, professor."

He offered you a small smile, before grabbing his coat and briefcase and making his way towards you. Stopping just a step away from you, he lifted his hands toward your neck, making you gulp. You stood still, expecting him to wrap his hand around your throat, while his eyes burned into yours. His long fingers inched closer and closer to your skin, before wrapping around your tie and adjusting it so it could be centred.

"I am a patient and understanding man, miss", he said, his hand resting on the piece of cloth for a few more seconds, before moving away, "But I am no fool."

And you knew his words to be true. Because if there was a fool here, that was you. You knew it was wrong to pursue the foolish feelings that started to blossom in your chest. Despite the age difference being only a few years, falling for a professor was never a good idea. But how could you stop yourself when every time his eyes laid upon you there was a feeling of longing behind them? The small touches on your arms, every time he tried to explain to you the parts of the textbook you claimed "not to understand", the way his lips curved in a small smirk every time you volunteered to help during demonstrations in class, the way his gaze darkened that time he saw your friend's arms wrapped around your shoulders during dinner...

He may have thought he was subtle, but you knew there was some part of him that desired you as much as you did.

"What do you think of me, professor?", you asked one day, while sitting on the desk, arranging papers. As you were the only student who showed any interest in DADA sessions outside the scheduled classes, Tom moved the Friday meetings to his private office. They also started to happen every week, rather than once per month. And often, you were helping him with work, rather the other way around. "Why?", his gaze lifted from the papers he was grading, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. He laid his pen down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his body back on his chair. You sat next to him on a smaller wooden chair, but your hands did not stop arranging the graded exams, and neither did your focus move from them.

"I am...", you took a deep breath, thinking how to phrase your explanation, "Curious, I guess."

Tom watched you with interest, noting the way that your voice trembled in the beginning. Looking up at your face, his eyes trailed every single one of your features, before stopping at your lips.

"You are a good student", he finally said, his tone flat. Your shoulders immediately slumped and you let out a quiet "Oh.", your fingers now pressing the tower of papers on its sides to make sure it is stable. The silence between you grew longer as you tried your best to hide the disappointment you felt from his answer. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at your face, trying to read your emotions based on your pursed lips and furrowed brows.

"All finished. I think it is better if I go", you finally said, unable to sit in his presence anymore. You stood up, ready to grab your bag from the floor, when cold fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist halting you in place. Tom stood up from his chair, moving behind you. Laying his free hand on the side of your waist, he leaned towards you, nose just a few inches from your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, and let out a low groan.

"What I really think...", he murmured, the fingers on your waist digging into your flesh, "is not something I shall voice out loud. The thoughts that flood my mind every time I see you are too..."

Your breath hitched.

"Too?"

"Sinful", you felt his breath on the back of your ear and your body involuntarily shivered. Before you could think of an answer, his hands left your body and he took a step back. You turned around, eager to close the distance again, but were stopped by him grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you away.

"Do not", he warned, "do not make this harder for both of us."

"But I-"

"I think it is best if you leave."

You gulped. And the first time your eyes did not cast down in shame - instead you held his gaze, your expression hardening.

"You cannot do this to me", your voice trembled, "Toying with my feelings , then pushing me away."

He raised his brow and his hand fell from your shoulder. You stood in place, not making any attempts to get closer.

"I did not do such thing", his voice sounded low and dark, his eyes suddenly turning colder, "In fact, I am telling you now... Whatever hope you hold in your heart about anything happening between us, you should kill it now."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said", he interrupted you impatiently, "And I mean it. But whatever affection I have towards you does not change the fact you are my student."

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your skirt and you clenched your jaw, moving your gaze towards the door. The rational part of your brain was telling you to just grab your bag and dash through the door. The other part, the one led by your heart, was screaming at you to stay and confront him. It did not take you long to decide which one to listen to.

"Why does it matter?", you snapped, "I am an adult already. And you are only a few years older. It is not illegal or anything!"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his dark curls. He turned around and walked around the desk, before slamming his hands on the hard surface.

"Merlin, you just do not understand!", his voice was full with irritation, "I can not lose my job. I can not lose everything I have worked for!"

"We can hide it", you protested, gluing yourself to his side and gripping his bicep, "Only for a few months! Only till I graduate!"

The man tore your hands away from his arm, cupping them in his palms instead. He tilted his head, searching your eyes, which were now starting to form tears of stress and frustration.

His face suddenly relaxed. The air between you felt lighter and a new spark of hope started to burn inside of you. His finger made its way to your cheek and wiped one of the tears that started to trail down your skin.

"Is it not curious, how weak love makes a man?", his finger trailed down to your jaw, before cupping it, "And no spell in this world is strong enough to save a man that has already fallen."

Your head instinctively leaned towards his hand and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth of his skin on yours. If you could only freeze time, you would stay in this moment forever.

"I don't want to be saved", you murmured and despite not being able to see him, you could feel the small smile that grazed his lips once you said it. You freed your hands from his and wrapped them around his torso, burying your head in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to embrace your body, resting his chin on the top of your head.

And if you could only see the satisfied smirk and cold gaze on Tom's face, you would have known how true his words are. There is no spell in this world that could save you not that you have already fallen...

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You can't say exactly when the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Private sessions became everyday afternoon meetings, where you talked about different random topics. Tom never opened up about his past, even his Hogwarts years. On the other hand, he was a good listener and without you realising it, he managed to unravel your whole family history just within a week.

His silent nature did not bother you, however. You finally had someone who listened to you. You slowly started to detach from your friends, excusing your unnatural behaviour on all the extra academic work you were taking. They were worried, but every time they tried to voice their concerns, you rolled your eyes, before running to Tom to tell him about their words. "They are just jealous of you, my dear, " he would always chuckle, gently stroking your cheek, "because you found what they would keep searching for a long, long time."

Soon, he was the only person you really trusted. And he claimed he felt the same.

This is why he couldn't ask anyone else to sneak into the Headmaster's office and get the little leather diary in one of his desk drawers. This is also why you had to find a way to get the books he was interested in from the restricted section without getting caught. This is also why you had to lure the naive fifth-year Hufflepuff into the Chamber of Secrets and leave her there.

There was simply no one else whom he trusted to do these tasks. And you gladly completed each of his requests without question, doing everything in your power to keep him happy.

But soon this was not enough. And once you graduated all the promises he made to you broke into thousand little pieces, which were discarded into thin air.

"I don't need you anymore", his cold voice said, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, "You can leave. Make sure you close the door."

Without sparing you even a glance, he grabbed the pile of papers and left for class, leaving you to gather your thoughts and pieces of your heart by yourself.

What did you do wrong? Why did he change so suddenly? Was it all a lie?

These questions continued to poison your mind for the next few years, while you tried to rebuild yourself. You did not realise how dependent you were on him, till you were left on your own. The weight of all the unsaid feelings within you was forcing you onto your knees, making you unable to get up and continue with your life.

And this is how two years after your graduation you found your way back to Hogwarts. The place where it all began...

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The wooden clock on the wall was ticking dangerously close to midnight when Tom finally got to his office. The teacher's gathering has been prolonged unnecessarily due to Dumbledore's ramblings and him finding problems where there are none. The amount of control the young professor has exercised to endure this long meeting has left him completely drained of energy, but he knew he still had to do some research about the Founders' Relics. After so many years he was finally getting close to achieving his goal and he was ready to sacrifice as many nights of sleep as necessary.

He knew something was not right the moment he opened the door. The lights were still off and everything seemed to be in the exact place he left it... but there was just the faintest sound of someone breathing which made him immediately reach for his wand.

"Ah, look who finally came", your giggle reached his ears before he saw you turning on his chair, fingers moving towards the small lamp on his desk, "Terribly rude of you to make me wait this long."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line and his grip around his wand tightened. He traced his eyes over the visible parts of your body, noting the little changes that had occurred since he last saw you.

Your hair, which was usually neatly combed and put in a bun, was now in a messy braid, the front pieces framing your face. Your lips, which usually curved in a shy smile, were now forming an arrogant, almost sinister smirk. Your eyes, which have always looked up to him full of admiration, were now staring down at him with a glint of insanity.

"Get out", he commanded, striding towards you with his wand pointed towards your head.

Your raised your eyebrows and your mouth shaped an "o" in a mock horror, before you reached for your own wand, pointing it back at him.

"Now that is not a way to welcome your ex-lover, is it?", your eyes squint.

Tom scoffed at your words, stopping at the edge of his desk, before his expression hardened.

"You were never my lover", he stated, his head tilting to the side, "And I thought I was extremely clear when I said last time I saw you that you are not welcome here."

You hummed, eyes moving to the ceiling. Still holding your wand towards him, you relaxed further into his chair, lifting your legs onto his desk. With a curious gaze, you followed the stone patterns of the walls around the room, while scrunching your face in disgust.

"3 years, Tom", you finally said, landing your attention back on him, "3 years you have been here and your office is as bland as it was when you first came here. It brings my mood down, you know? It's so grey!"

"You can leave then", Tom hissed through his teeth, making a few more steps till he stayed right in front of you. The tip of his wand rested under your chin and he pulled it upwards, making you look up, "I am giving you exactly a minute to leave, before I take your life."

A loud giggle left your lips and you pressed your neck further into his wand.

"How generous!"

"45 seconds."

You gently put your own wand back into your pocket, not moving your eyes from his. Tilting your head, your mouth formed a wide smile.

"Okay."

His brows shot in confusion, his jaw clenching. You could see his on the wand became tighter, his knuckles almost white.

"Okay?"

"Do it", you shrug your shoulders, "My ghost will be eager to see how are you going to explain why your new assistant went missing after coming to your office to drop a list of all the students that are going to be in your... our class this year."

Before you know it, his free hand flew to your face and gripped your face. His fingers dig into your jaw, lifting it dangerously close to his face.

"My assistant?", he let out a dry chuckle, "Good try, dear. And a terrible way to waste that minute I gave you."

With lips already starting to form the words of the deadliest spell, his fingers dug deeper into your face, before his eyes landed on the sparkling object in your palms. The unforgivable words quickly died in his throat and he withdrew his wand, stumbling back. Eyes full of anger met yours, who in contrast were sparkling with playfulness.

"How did you get that?", he demanded, reaching towards the object, but you pulled it back, before laying it on your head. Putting your elbows on his desk, you fluttered your eyelashes, smiling brightly.

"Do you think it suits me?"

"Stop playing around."

"You are such a bore", you rolled your eyes, "I went on a holiday to Albania. And I found this gorgeous, gorgeous diadem, which turned out to be Rowena Ravenclaw's. What are the chances?"

Tom seemed unamused by your story, instead twitching his jaw. His eyes stayed glued to the diadem on your head, the reflection of the sapphire on it sparkling in his cold eyes.

"How did you know where it was?", his gaze moved towards you, his hand putting his wand back in his coat. His tall form moved towards you again, this time taking a seat on the empty surface of the desk in front of you. With a smile, you took the diadem out of your head, twirling it between your fingers.

"You don't think you were the only one who managed to charm the famous Helena Ravenclaw, do you?", you raised your eyebrow, moving your tongue across your top lip, "You underestimate the power of women's empathy and love for gossip, Tom."

He let out an airy laugh, running a hand through his thick curls. After two years, he hasn't changed anything about his appearance. His face, his haircut, and even the suits he wore were the exact same ones he already wore when you were a student. You would lie if you said you didn't enjoy it - that meant that the Tom you loved was still somewhere inside of him. Your Tom.

"I'm impressed", he finally said, moving his hands towards his knee and locking his fingers around it. His face dropped into a serious expression once again, "Give it to me."

You tilted your head, pursing your lips. Your eyes moved to the diadem, before landing back on him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Tom", you rested your palm on your chest, looking up at him with doe eyes, "He would be very disappointed if I don't bring it back to him."

Tom took a deep breath, his upper lip twitching.

"He?", he pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, "Who is "he"?"

You twirled in his chair, pressing the diadem closer to your chest.

"My Lord, of course", you let out a giggle, resting your cheek on your shoulder and closing your eyes. You still managed to see the way Tom's body tensed, however.

"He sent his regards to you", you smiled, standing up, "If you hadn't left me that day, he wouldn't have met me and subsequently learned all about making horcruxes."

The man's eyes immediately darkened and his hand flew towards your wrist, stilling you in place.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me his name", Tom hissed, his nostrils flaring. You stepped closer to him, noses almost brushing.

"And why would I do that?", you raised your brows, your voice turning into a mocking laugh, "Do you think I would betray him... for you?"

The sudden feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward made you almost lose your balance and you grabbed his shoulder in reflex to keep you from falling on top of him. Nesting his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder, Tom pressed his lips next to your ear before muttering:

"You, my dear, are a liar", his teeth grazed the end of your earlobe, "And a very bad one."

Your whole body froze and you tried to push yourself away from him, but his arms were holding you firmly in place. Suddenly all the confidence you have displayed in his presence so far melted under the warmth of his touch, and you were left only with the hope you could still lie your way out of this situation.

"I am not lying", you protested with a quickening breath.

Tom lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his forehead on yours instead. His eyes stared deep into your own and his warm breath on your face made your whole body involuntarily tremble.

"I have already told you I am not a fool", one of his hands slid from your waist towards your arm and then hand, where you were still clutching the diadem. His fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of your grasp with ease. Without looking at it, he placed it on the desk behind his back, before his hand found its way to the top of your head.

"I know you better than you know yourself, my dear", he muttered, his hand gently stroking your hair, "And I know there is no room in your heart for anyone but me. You would not be here otherwise."

He pulled back enough to be able to take a better look at your face. His gaze fell from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

"You are mine. Always were, always will be."

A loud whine escaped your throat before it was swallowed by Tom's mouth on yours. His plump lips were chapped, a result of hours of his teeth sinking into them, trying to hold back all the snarky remarks he had for his fellow colleagues. The rough feeling made your knees buckle and you closed your eyes, relaxing fully in his arms.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you around and with a swift move of his hand, pushed the diadem and a few books out of the way, before laying you on the cold surface. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging the soft curls.

A low growl left his lips and he lifted his lips from yours, a trail of saliva connecting them, before it was broken by his fingers cupping your chin.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?", his voice was suddenly deeper and darker, "For me to take you on the same desk I once you graded you."

His words made a loud moan to escape you and your back arched up, seeking nothing more than to be close to him. With a low chuckle, he pressed his palm between your breasts, pushing you flat on the furniture beneath you. You opened your mouth to complain but were quickly silenced once he pushed his index and middle fingers in your mouth, almost making you choke. Fixating your gaze on his, you closed your lips around them and started to suck, making sure to flatten your tongue in the process.

The image before your eyes was something you had dreamt of countless times before - Tom, with his messy curls and parted lips, panting while the fingers of his free hand were skilfully unbuttoning his vest. You did not waste any time in helping him, focusing on shakingly unbuttoning his belt.

"So impatient", he clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, so could remove his shirt. Once his torso was in full view, you did not hesitate even a second before you lifted yourself in a sitting position and attached your lips to his neck. Nibbling and sucking the smooth skin, you started to nibble and suck your way down to his chest. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing under you.

Tom Riddle may not be a man who was capable of love, but he was a man after all. And it would be a lie to say he has never thought of you in a more... erotic way. You have always been so obedient and good, doing everything for him without any hesitation. He has always found that incredibly attractive, but not enough for him to act on his desires.

Now, however, the sight of you has ignited some primal urges within him that he never felt before. Maybe it was the few drinks he had consumed prior at the gathering or maybe it was the idea of the the crazy lengths you were willing to go in order to get back to him...

Tom Riddle would probably never know the reason for him giving up control for the first time in his life. To you, nonetheless.

His mind came back to reality when he felt you pushing him on his chair and nestling yourself between his legs. Looking up at him, you tugged his pants and boxers down, letting his erection free. You let your index finger gently caress the length of it, making it twitch. A small giggle left your lips before you repeated the gesture.

"Stop teasing me", the man groaned, and his palm rested behind your head in order to push you towards his member, but you swiftly moved to the side dodging it. You squinted your eyes, moving your hands to his thighs and digging your nails into them.

"You", the word was hissed through your teeth, "are in no position to order me around."

Tom scoffed and was about to argue when your mouth unexpectedly wrapped around the head of his penis, twirling your tongue around it. He let out a choked gasp and he tried to put his hand on your head again before you smacked it away. Swallowing his pride, he rested both of his arms on the side of his chair, bucking his hip forward.

Carefully watching his reaction you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving it down and back up again, following the movement of your mouth. The feeling of him filling your mouth was causing some saliva to start dripping your chin, but rather than pulling away, you pushed him further into your mouth till your nose was buried in his dark pubic hair. The feeling of his swollen head hitting the back of your throat made you gag, causing Tom to groan in pleasure.

"Fuck this", he muttered, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling your head up, before pressing it down again. His hips buckled in harmony with your head, making sure you were taking all of him. His dick was now coated in your saliva, making it glisten in the dim light. You closed your eyes, the lack of oxygen making them sting. The rapid pace with which he was moving was making it hard for you to breathe through your nose and you tried giving him a warning slap on his leg, which he purposefully ignored. Instead, he moved his other hand towards your chin and held your head still, while he continued to thrust his hips up and down. Sloppy wet noises filled his office, being interrupted only by his heavy breathing.

Your thighs clenched together in a weak attempt to relieve the burning ache between your legs. The way he was using your mouth to satisfy himself was making your underwear damp, yet you knew better than to touch yourself yet. After so many sleepless nights during which you tried to relieve yourself, imagining how would it feel to taste him, you wanted to focus all your attention only on him.

Feeling he was close, Tom finally pulled your head back and examined your face. Both saliva and tears were smeared all over your chin and your cheeks were flushed in rosy colour.

"What a pretty sight you are, my dear", he smiles, wiping some of it with his thumb. You licked your lips, getting up on your feet.

"And you are such a smooth talker", your face leaner just inches from his, "I wonder if you are as good with the action as you are with words."

Taking this as a challenge, he stood up and pushed you back onto the desk, before lifting your skirt. His fingers hooked under the elastic bands of your panties and with one tug they snapped, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

Tom gulped, burning the image of your waiting arousal into his mind. His fingers made their way towards your slit, gathering the wetness before easily sliding his middle finger in. You moaned at the contact, fluttering your eyes closed. He pumped his fingers a few times, his eyes carefully observing your facial expression before he slid it out. You whined at the loss of contact, opening your eyelids only to find him smirking down at you.

"Do you really think you deserve me wasting time on your pleasure?"

"Fuck you!", you snapped, resulting in him grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard, an airy cough left your lips.

"Such a dirty mouth", he lifted your face up, his jaw clenching, "but such a weak mind. Look at the pathetic mess you are..."

Your lips parted to offer a snarky response, but your mind quickly went blank the moment he slid fully into you. Arching your back, your hands found their way around his shoulders, while his rested on both sides of your head.

Tom did not waste any time in developing a quick pace, which made you roll your eyes back. With each thrust the head of his cock was brushing against your cervix, making your whole vision white. His left hand moved towards one of your breasts, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nipple between his fingers. His other hand made his way to your pussy, where his thumb started to draw sloppy circles over your clit.

Never in your life have you felt such pleasure in your life. Of course, you had previous lovers during the past two years while trying to get Tom out of your mind, but nothing compared to this. Curling your toes, you lifted both of your legs and rested them on his shoulder.

Both of you groaned in unison when you felt him going even deeper than before. His upper body collapsed on top of yours, his lips immediately latching onto your other nipple. Still gripping his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks behind.

The knot in your stomach started to tighten and your moans became louder and louder. Moving your hips so you can meet Tom's thrusts, you looked at his face, only to find him staring back with eyes clouded with desire. His fingers were now working faster on your sensitive bud and you let out a shaky breath: "Tom, I...", you could not finish your sentence, your vocabulary suddenly consisting only of his name.

"Shhh", he whispered, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek. He gently stroked it with his thumb and suddenly you saw in front of you the same Tom that charmed you years ago, "I've got you."

His words were enough to cause the knot to snap and your whole body went rigid, squeezing and pulsating around him. A few harsh trusts and Tom suddenly tensed on top of you, as he painted your insides white. You both held onto each other, fingers digging into soft flesh, as you melted into your shared euphoria.

It was not romantic.

It was primal. Rough. Dirty.

It was everything you have imagined.

Finally relaxing on top of you, Tom buried his head in your shoulder, trying his best to calm his breathing down. You laid under him, crushed under his weight, yet enjoying every second of the contact he allowed you to have.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your hand and started to gently stroke his hair. Against his better judgment, he allowed you to and closed his eyes in the process.

Tired from the long day and your office activity, Tom lifted you in his arms, his now soft member slipping out of you and he sat back on his chair, adjusting the backrest so you can both take a more comfortable position.

You lifted yourself from his chest and raised your eyebrow, but bit back your tongue the moment your gaze crossed his stern one, warning you not to voice whatever you had in your mind. Letting out a small chuckle, you shook your head and laid it back down on his skin.

There was an urge burning inside of you to mock him about showing gentleness, but deep down you knew this was your only chance to enjoy it. So you closed your eyes and relaxed, finally being able to fall asleep without the haunting dreams of what could've been.

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The sunlight was painting the whole room in a beautiful gold colour and Tom let out a low groan when he felt it hitting his face. His hand made its way over his eyes, shielding them from the light, while his mind slowly started to become aware of his surroundings. The uncomfortable chair was making all of his muscles ache and he immediately regretted not gathering the energy last night to make his way back to his room. The chill air coming from the window has not helped too, especially when we was only partly covered and-

Tom's eyes shot open looking down at his body and finding his suit jacket thrown over his waist and private parts. You, however, were not to be found. Not on top of him, not on the desk, nowhere in the room.

He immediately stood up, grabbing his pants from the floor and furiously putting them on, while breathing heavily. His gaze fell on the stack of books he pushed from his desk last night and he immediately fell on his knees, scanning the floor around him.

"No, no, no", he hissed under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "That little serpent!"

Not only you have left, but you also have taken the diadem with you. No matter how much he searched for it, it was definitely not here.

You tricked him.

Getting up back to his feet, Tom kicked one of the books on the floor, before slamming his hands on his desk. His breathing was hard and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small parchment of paper placed next to his quill. Unfolding it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"My dear Tom,

Thank you for our wonderful night together. I did not want to leave you so early, but I had to be out of the castle before everyone else woke up. To be truthful with you, I am not going to be your new assistant. But your already knew that, so I guess it is not shocking news. I sneaked it yesterday when all of the teachers were having a party (or what you call a gathering, ha!). Neither do I have a new lord. You already knew that as well.

Do not stress about the diadem, as it is safe with me - if there is one thing I learned from you is that I need to take good care of horcruxes once they are made. I know it was probably foolish of me to bring it to you last night, as it does hold a part of my soul, but I promise that from now on I will take better care of it.

Without doubt your paths shall cross again. Remember Tom: You are mine. Always were, always will be.

Love, y/n

P.S. - I hope you do not mind that I helped myself by getting your keys from your jacket and getting a shower in your room. Also, I think you need to follow your own advice and start putting your objects away. I found your diary resting on your bedside table, so I had to take it with me. Do not worry - I promise I will keep it safe...

for now."

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CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

[worstghost]

can I request scott summers headcanons, i feel like he melts/ gets turned on by respect. Like dear god the amount of disrespect he gets on a daily basis is crazy, so to have someone who genuinely respects him

i love scott summers , this is a mix of the movie and x men 97 scott so bear with me, I got carried away lol. also I'm sorry this is a drabble and not headcanons 🙃 I got too into it.

scott summers/reader

You're new, having been pulled in last second for this specific mission. Everyone's a little apprehensive, keeping their distance while Scott briefs you.

"So you'll be waiting here, your ability to detect heat signatures at such a distance gives us an advantage. Just report to me if anything comes up?"

You're looking around the ship, interested, you'd never been invited to one of these but you were excited to help.

"Sounds good to me." You smile at him, taking your seat.

This gives Scott some pause, eyebrows drawing for the smallest moment. No argument, no telling him your two cents and making it a fight?

You can sense his hesitation and laugh, "You're the leader right? I'm fine here, I trust that you know what you're doing." By this point you've looked away, peeling at the leather cushion on the arm rest.

That's what does it for him, his heart leaps out of his chest trying to reach you and he has to turn away to hide the flush of his cheeks.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The next time is when you're teaching a class. You're unlucky enough to have a troublesome batch of preteens, on the edge of learning how to question everything and everyone. You let them of course, it's part of growing up to have attitude, but you don't let it get too far.

Scott comes in to watch you teach one day, it's an interesting subject on the history of art influenced by war against mutants. He's enamored while you show the pieces, cringing every time one of the kids interrupts you by talking to a friend or snapping their gum or sighing so loud everyone turns around to look.

Finally, you pause, setting the pen you were pointing with down on your desk.

"Alright, I think we're done for now and we're going to do silent reading." Groans echo around the room. "No, listen to me. Mr. Summers came in here to listen to the lesson and see how good of students you are, and you have been so rude. Please apologize and pull out your books."

He's shocked, shrugging off the chorus of 'Ugh sorrys' and 'whatevers'. You take command so well, demand respect not only for yourself but for others. If he wasn't in love before, this solidified it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He loves to hear it in the bedroom too. Loves the way you trust and listen to him when he asks you to do something new. Very encouraging.

Loves to hear you say "Yes, sir." It just gets him every time, he melts.

Scott also loves when you take control. The feeling of someone taking care of him. He stresses so much about the team, it's a relief when you just lay him down on the bed and climb on top.

Praise praise praise. Wants to hear how good he makes you feel, when he moves his hips just right and pushes in even deeper. The more you talk, the harder he thrusts.

You'll hold on to his shoulders, grinding down, whimpering and throwing your head back like a pornstar and he just can't get enough.

"You feel so good, Scott, I love it-" interrupted by a gasp at the way he licks down your neck.

He'll smile against your chest, "Talk to me, baby. Keep going." It drives him crazy, loves to hear you breathless, trying to tell him how amazing his dick is but you can't stop moaning.

He would never tell you to be quiet- this is the one place he feels truly appreciated and he wants everyone to hear it.