#i couldn't imagine another artist coming up with it too

[sangled]

Are you the sangled that made that popular picrew that a lot of people were using at one point?

(smiling with clenched teeth) different sangled

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..." 

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention. 

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister. 

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman. 

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression. 

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them. 

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly. 

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill. 

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill. 

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..." 

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you. 

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste. 

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

[beloved-calypso]

・ ° ʚɞ ゜𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 ~ ♡ ・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

♡𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓁𝓎 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇.” – 𝑅𝒶𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓇♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.

[Note: Hello, everyone! If you didn't guess it, this pac is about how you are viewed by your past, present, and future lovers. This pick a card was originally about 'how' you are as a lover but turned out to be about girl power theme so I went with the flow ~ I have another pick a card coming out soon this week so stay tuned!

Edit 8/18: People of pile 4 please check over your reading again. I added some stuff. Also pile 3 although it wasn't significant. I couldn't help but to keep editing mistakes here and there so apologies if you keep getting notifications of changes for this post 😂.]

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི The Lyre ๑◞꒱ა

[The Moon, 3 of Cups, The Star]

You are a mystical and overwhelming lover pile 1 😘. You feed people the energy and will they need to feel alive. You're like an aphrodisiac and your lovers like to get high purely off of you. You make people feel like they NEED you. CRAVE you. It's almost like your partner's ache to breathe the air you do, envelope themselves around you, and stay around you all the time because they want to make sure you weren't a figment of their imagination. Some people have thought you walked straight out of their daydreams. They are addicted to your energy and presence and desire so much from you. Don't think of it as people stealing your energy though; your feeding off of theirs too. This is a proverbial yin and yang, a give and take with you holding the scales of power like the effigy of Lady Justice. You're consuming at the same time you're giving. It could claim to be vampiric, but it comes off as dreamy and mysterious. You're moreso like a fairy or sprite enticing someone to follow them in the woods with a beckoning finger and a mischievous smile. Fairy's in early storybooks are mostly tricksters and little devils, but they are so beautiful and enchanting at the same time. There's a reason they cannot escape the human consciousness. You give off the air of springtime, of misty nights at waterfalls and flower strewn glens dappled with dawning sunlight. 🌸

You're a comfort as well as seductress, playing the Madonna when you need to set a lure and revealing the whore once you've sinked your claws into your prey. You're wholesome yet strange, animated yet withdrawn, spontaneous yet quite, the constant swing of a pendulum that pushes and pulls, push and pull, push and pull. You're the exact type who can have anyone and everyone wrapped around their fingers. When you're outside you're a nymph in her natural habitat. When you're indoors you're an enchantress in her home brewing potions and scribbling spells. Both paint a pretty and sensuous picture. You can play the whimsical and silly girl, but you're anything but dumb. While sniffing at that flower you picked up in the meadows you're locked onto your target with discerning eyes, sizing them up like a hawk ready to pluck a mouse from the fields. You're someone who can lure in their target with an innocent face and a flower crown on their hair, speaking honeyed words with opened palms, and when your lover finally settles down next to you, you can embrace and look down upon them with a loving gaze all the while knowing they are hopelessly trapped by you, and they couldn't be more unaware of it. You give them the notion of having power over you, a false sense of comfort you can utilize to take everything you want from of them. It's a perfectly painless process and that's why it works. This is a siren evolved out of water, a woman with the crime of passion trailing behind her like a cape and the undeceptive eyes of a doe. It's giving me Persephone and Hades, a gentle and lively woman able to tame even the darkest and stony of hearts, meaning you can seduce just about anyone!

You're a lover that is exciting and addicting to be around, a drug without the side effects. I think you can be the caring mother men need to be vulnerable, and when they need the heat to turn up, out comes the sultry woman of their dreams. I feel you could be into baking, maybe catering for home events and shoving food in people's mouths as a sign of love (it's also a tactic predators use in the wild to make their target immobilized). I think you like to do anything that relaxes and distresses you, keep in the quiet and just let your mind go into the silence. You are wonderfully sublime, an aromatic mix of shadow and light. You look like you stepped out of a Renaissance painting. I think you like creature comforts, the feel of a soft leathery couch and the low noise of a tv. Other days it's the grass at your back and the wind sweeping over your body that delights you. There's a number of things you want to try and have already done that feeds your spirit of whimsiness. Keep being silly and adventurous. Don't stumble trying to appear as someone you're not. You're open and free and that's what's so enticing about you. It doesn't ward people off as much as you think, rather it just intimidates people that don't have the same confidence as you do to exercise their self-expression. Many people struggle with their identity but you embrace it and the changes that life brings and so you're actually above those that you think you're beneath. You're constantly evolving and constantly at the whim of fate. I would say you're a breath of fresh air to anyone you meet. Never deny your power. This piles energy is very airy, light, and aligned with the sense of smell, which can be just as seductive as touch. Follow the direction of the wind and you'll always be on course for everything you desire. You're meant to wander and ponder. Don't think you're not meeting goal-posts as fast as everyone else. You're just enjoying what lies along the journey rather then the end, and that's a beautiful thing more fulfilling than crossing the finish line. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི The Tiger ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Cups, 6 of Swords, Wheel of Fortune]

Hello pile 2, aren't you the busy body. You are so energetic and strong. You have the strength and will of a lioness, a woman mature, self-sufficient, and unstoppable. I see you working yourself to the bone trying to keep a whole house together and not breaking a sweat while doing so. I doubt many work as hard as you do. They may not even measure to your strength of will. I'm getting a vision of Princess Tiana from Princess and the Frog, a Capricorn who was intelligent, diligent, and fearless. You are just like her I'm hearing. You're the glue that holds things together, that makes something new out of two separate things, the source of support that keeps someone afloat and moving. Without you your lovers would sink into the mires of lament and stupidity.

You're a trophy wife that doesn't just sit in the house all day but keeps upgrading the house, from a one-story, to a manor, to a whole estate. You're lovers are forced to match your speed and make something of themselves. You envigorate them with the promises of success. You're like a lucky lady in poker; your lovers can't win without you. You're their real success, the one trophy in their case made out of real gold. They grow with you, build a life with you, take their crudy dreams and turn it into a reality. You have the golden Midas touch. ✨ You're like magic, a Djinn that grants wishes and turns dreams to truth. Sure, in the real world these things take time and work, but they happen. Anything and everything can happen for you, and in extension, to your lovers. Your lovers need you in order to survive, to reach their goals and dreams and feel on top of the world. You're like the blood rushing through their veins in adrenaline on a morning run, the caffeine in their coffee, the motor of their car that never fails, and the bed they come home to and sink in. These things seems mundane but they are all a necessity of life. They signify movement, comfort, and stability. Excitement is fun every now and then but in real life it's not an everyday thing nor is it practical. You're a reminder of what's real and of what reward is past the finish line. You're the mast on a ship, the strings that hold everything together. You have the backbone of metal but you still hold the delicacy of something precious and nurturing. You have a very motherly aura. I feel you can't help but to take care of people. It's in your nature to help and nurture things into growing. You're a catalyst for change, sometimes the broom that swats someone's hiny into action. I see you guzzling coffee and turning into a tornado of movement. I'm also seeing big cats in the wild. Jaguars, panthers, leopards, and tigers, all fierce and spirited animals reflective of the ferocity of women and the power we all hold within. You know, lionesses and other female big cats do most of the work in keeping their species alive. They're protectors, hunters, warriors, and mothers. They do more than their mates and they do it all looking exquisite and beautiful. Everything about them is ingrained into you. Believe that.

Your strength is unparalleled and there's something that's so wild about you, something begging to be free, a intensity and ferociousness that can knock any man down and force them underneath you. I'm seeing leopard prints, blood, and fangs. You need to let that animal in you out every once in a while, take her out for a walk on the town and dom that red lipstick and little black dress you were saving for a special occasion. She's what's been clawing your insides and she will not rest until you let her breathe. I wouldn't be surprised if your partners like riling you up. Your anger is absolutely sexy. When tempers fly they feel a primal rush going on, a need to let your animals meet *wink, wink*. I feel you display both civility and the inner animal brain all of us humans have. It's astonishing how much we suppress ourselves and call our primal natures uncivilized and obsolete. They are not something to do away with, and anyone that says otherwise is lying to themselves. Suppressing our animal instincts teaches suppression and breeds inner deviancy. Releasing our instincts allows our bodies to give you their full capabilities. That's what your lovers see in you: a powerful woman that doesn't lie to herself and embraces her very nature and channels it into creation. That's why you succeed in everything. You're not afraid to get messy and tear a few muscles. You're a wild cat in heels welding a knife with a little blood on her apron. You're a little crazy but that's what makes people equally wild about you. It's sometimes better to be feared than loved, but in your case the things go hand in hand. Fear releases adrenaline and sometimes triggers the horny parts of our brains. Men are scared of you and piss their pants a little, but they kind of like it. Just know that it's ok to be vulnerable and soft once in a while. Just like Tiana, you will have to learn to relax and know it's ok to have days where you do nothing. You're not an incomplete person, and you are far from undesirable, but you're busy-bee nature makes your lovers want to take you by the shoulders and hog-tie you down to a chair. Deep down beneath that impenetrable armor is a woman desiring tenderness and affection, and you need to water her regularly to keep her from wilting. It's not a show of weakness to be vulnerable. I received another perfect metaphor for you, a diamond, strong and beautiful and the King of gems. Remember how diamonds are made; they come from the common material of carbon undergoing extreme pressures and heat to become something priceless and wanted by all. Perfectly descriptive of you. Remember that you are a diamond among gemstones, rare and desirable above all else. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི The Shells and the Vase ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Swords, King of Swords, 7 of Pentacles]

With you pile 3, it's do or die. You don't wait for no one nor are you adept at wasting your time with just anyone. You carry yourself as a woman with high value and as though you have a lot to offer, which you most definitely do. You're sexy, but there's also something inside you that adds to this appeal; your intelligence. Your appearance is beautiful too, but we will get into that later. You're sharp witted and unbelievably smart. Your highly praised for your genius and some can see that that is what gives you your unshakeable confidence. I feel you know the nature of people very well and you could be a fantastic conversationalist. People would pay to hear you talk for hours on hours. It's the way you talk, the way your tongue rolls and twitches between your lips that keeps them hanging onto every word you utter. Even the sounds you make are lip-bitingly arousing. Your lovers love the talks you have and they feel they can tell you everything and anything, but they'd rather just cuddle and hear you speak. There's never a dull moment with you and you open their eyes to the Universe. You're a point of discovery and through you people gain invaluable information. You're brilliant, knowledgeable and a master of words, but you're very selective with who you speak too. Not everyone is deserving of your words and sometimes people are so easy you can't help but to play a few mind games with them just to ease the edge of boredom you feel around normies. You may have an intriguing accent, even if it sounds normal to you, there's something about it so refined and soothing. Any of you bilinguals by chance? There's a neat little library in your head full of information that you can pull out when the time is perfect. You know when to turn on the crowd-pleaser and the show-stopper and even the dim-wit when you feel like effing with people. You're immune to caring what others think of you (a superpower if you ask me) and when you're slighted you may think it's funny. A good verbal joust is healthy from time to time, and a fight with words is much more interesting than with fists. I sense a little mean streak within this pile hehehe. Intelligence is so sensual. Ever heard of the phrase intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac? It truly is. You have the key to unlock peoples minds and you can do with them as you wish. Physical attraction is great and all but it's temporary and prone to fizzling. Even the most beautiful woman in the world get cheated on and tossed away. It's inward attraction thats the most important.

Once you've grabbed someone's attention then they've figured you must be different from all the ones they've met before and this establishes a want and need to know this person in and out, what makes them tick and chirp all nice and pretty. You know how to keep your lover on you. It's your sexy little mind that has the breath taken out of them. It's a surprising but welcome thing. You're like a present under a Christmas tree, the gift you didn't expect but came out to be better than the one you wanted. No one can one up you and your a bloodhound when it comes to figuring out people. A detective in the streets and a Playboy bunny in the sheets, I heard. You're like a knife that scrapes against skin oh-so deliciously, a selective taste but one you never go back from after savoring. People are a little afraid of you. Your words can cut like you have a tongue with barbed wire at the end of it. It's almost masochistic the way some men try to square up against you. They fall like a tree and you get to bask in the victory without so much as a wood chip clinging on to your dress. Lovers have to chase after you to get piece of you. You're a rich and exquisite prize to many. There's something about you that conjures images of class and poshness. You give me rich girl vibes. It's the way you carry yourself. You're so sure and confident it scares people sometimes. Even if you aren't rich, you look it. You treat yourself like an exclusive, like a corner of a club that won't let just anyone hang there until they've undergone an extensive background check and pass an itemized list. You're beautiful and you act like it. You're like a model walking in the streets of New York with her legs exposed, marching like she's on a mission. Everyone around her can't help but to stop and stare and feel wistful of what they can't have. You're enchanting, intensely desirable, the fruit that Tantalus desires and futilely reaches for every time the branch comes close to his mouth. It's part of a game you play with them. I can see that you laugh at them and their hound dog ways. It pumps your ego and keeps you feeling high. I can see you're the same way in your relationships. You never overvalue a lover over yourself, and you don't change yourself for them either. You're independent and require for your persons to be the same way, or else they get cut quick and loose. It's not that people think you're hard to pin down, but they feel you are so effervescent, easy to lose. Your partners think you're sensational, a whirlwind of passion wrapped up in a ribbon of classiness, similar to the feelings evoked when lapping at champagne, swimming in an infinity pool on top of a sky-rise, or sinking into the buttery leathers of a luxury sofa with a fireplace at your feet.

You feel naughty too, like eating bon bons on a cheat day. Your free spirited and live life so fast it's like men need to chase you with their cars. I can see you have a streak for danger, a love to live life on the edge. Die hard and die fast, but with no regrets. I think you're kooky too, so extra and out there, the type to walk ontop of the raised edges of sidewalks, skinny dip into a strangers pool, and dance on Street lamps like they are a strippers pole, haha. You live life in the moment. You're dangerous yet sophisticated, the type that likes to watch plays and carry theatrical masks 🎭 to be funny, one happy and the other one devilish (not sad). I feel you're insatiable for what the world has to offer. You feel the depth and width of the planet and wish it was yours. You want to learn everything there is to know, experience everything there is to feel, record the world through all of your five senses. You're worldly, a person of many dreams in one. Your lovers feel like they have to walk a tight rope with you, risk hovering over a den of tigers to get to you, but it's all worth it with you on the other side, otherwise they wouldn't be doing it. You give them a rush of youth and adrenaline they can't get from ordinary life. You're not peace, your chaos, and so unique and individual that within you lays a multiverse of once in a lifetime experiences. Keep being unapologetically you. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི The Woman and the Beasts ๑◞꒱ა

[The Fool, Strength, 6 of Cups]

My, my so much yellow came out of this pile. Welcome my little balls of sunshines! You all are as cute as cute can be and absolute cinnamon rolls. At least on first meetings that is. This pile is full of high spirited energy! I feel you glowing with vitality. You seem young and have a childish streak about you, one that propels you high up in the sky on the wings of positive vibrations. Your lovers are addicted to these vibrations. You live in a little bubble of joy and positivity and I have to say I wish I could look at the world this way. Nothing really gets you down, and if it does your quick to pick yourself back up. I feel this is my pile of nature lovers, woman connected to the earth and in high spirits because of it. You like to follow the ebb and flow of life, ride the wavelength so to speak. You may feel out of control over your own destiny, but in a freeing way, like your life is truly yours and no one is in the background pulling your strings. You're like an oasis in a desert, a little spot in the forest to rest in and feel aware of all the other things that live life around you: the birds, the bees, the critters, and the little insects crawling in the ground and over you. Some here may experiment with weed and psychedelics which accounts for your chill, go-lucky attitude and higher spiritual connectivity. I feel this pile is very connected to animals too. You may have adopted a lot of animals or just seem to be a magnet for little forest creatures. You're like a Disney Princess. You radiate kindness and angelic grace and are a woman loved by all creatures that see and know her. Your love for the earth and all its inhabitants pours out of you and creates this beautiful Madonna image. I'm seeing a picture of Mother Mary, serene, beautiful, and otherworldly. It's almost like you are not part of this world. You come off as so delicate and precious, a rarity among a world lost to cynicism and mundanity. Your lovers imagine wrapping themselves up in you like a soft, feathery blanket. You're a source of security to them, a warm balm on their wounds when they fall and get hurt and the ice cream they enjoy afterwards. I feel you love taking care of people. You may play nurse and physically take care of your partners like children, missing their pains and keeping them giggling. You are soft, open and delicious, like a jelly-filled pastries in a bakery!

Everything about you is so refreshing, light and fun. There's an air of innocence that makes you unique, a babydoll made human like like in the Disney movie Life-Size. It's hard to find a light that shines as bright as yours and everyone around you wonders that if they stay near you maybe that light can rub off on them and if not, they are simply satisfied in basking in your glow. You're like a sunflower soaking in sunlight. You connect lovers to their inner child and they cannot get enough of that. With you they can be free and playful, they can release all their worries and learn to enjoy the moment, be a kid again and see life in the pure eyes of a child. You serve as a snapshot to life's most heart-melting moments and once your lovers see things through your eyes, it's like being bathed under a warm, ever-flowing spring. They feel renewed, enlightened, as if they never truly knew sunlight until they met you.

I feel this pile is more spiritually attuned, women that are close to the divine feminine and harness the power of feminity. Your effect is very healing. It kind of reminds me of Fluttershy from My Little Pony. She's warm, kind, and a nature lover, and she uses her powers for the good of others. I feel this pile are participants and donors of good causes, or you wish to be but have yet to take the initiative, but it is only a matter of when. You're an Angel in your own right, a being from high coming to visit the little people down below. There's something about you that's so welcoming and gooey. You're like sunny days spent out on the beach, a twilight where the stars and clouds mingle, and the feeling of being wrapped up in cozy sweaters in Autumn. You remind people that there are things worth saving in this world, that what they can do tomorrow is what they can do today. You're a wellspring of hope, the dream one has in a single night that changes everything. 🌷 Despite all this talk of innocence and rarity, there's a strength to you too, an unyielding stubbornness that only serves to accentuate your womanly wiles. You're always there to help a loved one, and it may go unappreciated because it seems that nothing phases you, when in actuality, you shoulder a lot; you just have an incredible way of keeping yourself untainted. It's almost as if you mop up people's troubles for them. Like a wet sponge to a person's skin, you're cleaning it off and getting their dirt onto you, then emptying the emotional bucket, taking a shower, and going on about your day. Kind of like a sin eater. Ever heard of one of those? Here's an excerpt from Wikipedia so you don't have to search for it: "A sin-eater is a person who consumes a ritual meal in order to spiritually take on the sins of a deceased person. The food was believed to absorb the sins of a recently dead person, thus absolving the soul of the person." Powerful stuff, but I'd be wary of people taking advantage of this. It's easy for people to become codependent on you, and easier for you to become emotionally attached to them. Like cleansing the bad, you sometimes have to cleanse the good too. It's better to take a neutral stance for the health of yourself and others, be the mothering figure but allow for others to make mistakes. You can't walk a person's journey for them, but the support you do give is immeasurable in impact. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡

⊱┈─ ✧

✨️ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce factually true information. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

[ceesimz]

the taste of victory

(blurb after golden key to the sweet life + pt2)

"I knew you would be here."

Still in her Spain kit, this time with a gold European Championship medal around her neck, the effervescent captain came bounding over, understandably still on a glory high.

The Euros was a tournament that had plagued her ever since that injury, but now after coming out of international retirement, she'd done it. The trophy belonged to Spain for the next four years and Alexia had every right to relish in that fact like it was her first time winning a competitive title.

"How could we not come all this way?"

You, also in a Spain jersey, but who needed medals and trophies when there are two children on each side. Alexia had both achievements, one can only imagine her joy.

"You won, Mami!" Anaís squealed, her lanky limbs wrapping around her favourite champion just like a koala. Oriol was a bit more reserved, as he often was, definitely taking more of his Mami's introverted nature compared to Anaís who was the exact opposite of shy.

"Finally!" Alexia laughed, watching on as you rolled your eyes at her whilst she crouched down, Anaís still attached, so that Oriol could join. "Thank you both for coming. I'm sorry you had to miss your party."

Back in Spain, your neighbours were having a get-together for one of their four children they had that were all around the same age as Oriol and Anaís. The party they were due to host was the talk of the town, with a bouncy castle and a swimming pool and enough food to feed the whole of Spain, but ultimately Anaís and Oriol couldn't turn down the chance to fly to a new country to watch their Mami win yet another trophy. This was a pretty damn good excuse to not only miss the party, but throw one too when you all get back home.

You had flown on your own to watch two of the group games for Spain whilst your children stayed back at home for school until summer break, and the, albeit short and rare, time spent alone with Alexia was a welcome venture as it had been a while since that had happened. But being together as a four, celebrating the one title Alexia was missing from her vast list of accolades, well there wasn't much that could beat it.

"Felicitats, Mami." Oriol, the soon to be four year old, mumbled into Alexia's ear with his little arms clasped behind her neck.

"Grácies, amor meu." Alexia whispered, scooping him up with one arm as she holds Anaís' hand in the other and makes her way over to you.

There was a look in her eye, one you had never seen before. It frustrated you to no end that you couldn't quite place it, but that was something that would have to be unpacked another day.

"Family photo with the trophy? It is tradition." Alexia grinned at you, only for Anaís to groan beside her. "One photo, chiqui, then you can go play. Put Vicky in goal."

To no one's surprise, it looked like Anaís was swiftly following in Alexia's footsteps, whilst Oriol seemed to be a budding artist as he never went anywhere without his crayons. The two couldn't be more different, yet they got along better than most siblings, even with a larger age gap. Wait for the teenage years, Alexia would say anytime you brought it up, only for you to flick her ear and tell her to stop manifesting it.

"Mami, why do they call you a dinosaur?" Oriol asked innocently as the four of you headed over to the ceremony stage, oblivious to the painful jab he'd just sent his mother's way.

"Because she is old, Oreo." Anaís giggled to herself, sticking her tongue out at Alexia. The midfielder stopped in her tracks, turning to you with a displeased face.

"Amor, take him." She murmured, quickly handing over her son before lifting Anaís up by her armpits and sitting her on her shoulders. "Am I old if I can still do this? Pequeña mona, you are so cheeky. I just played two hours of football and won, yet you still call me old. What do I have to do?"

"Buy me some new football boots and we can forget this happened." You bursted out into loud laughter at that, because the only person Alexia had to blame for that sass was herself.

"Bien. You cannot call me old for a year yet, only when I am cuarenta. Mama is just one year younger than me, she's old too, no?"

"You just earnt yourself a night on the sofa when we get home, Ale. Another achievement, congratulations." With a sarcastic pat on her back, you march ahead of her as she's left scrambling to make up for her comment.

Ever since the word relationship was properly introduced to you as a teenager, you would worry that after being with the same person for so long, speaking to them everyday and sharing the same space, that it would get difficult and cracks would form. That never came to be true, in fact if anything, the foundations of your relationship only got stronger. There were days when things weren't easy, especially with two young children, but you couldn't have chosen a better route to go down.

It really had unlocked a life of bliss, just as the golden key had once promised.

"Oye, get back! It is our turn!" Mapi shooed away Anaís as the younger girl skipped over to the trophy.

The object was currently in the hands of Ingrid, with Mapi at her side and their two adopted children stood in front. Not so long after Alexia initially retired from the national team, Mapi had hung up her boots altogether. Ingrid was still playing, a senior figure for Barcelona and third in line of the captaincy role, whilst Mapi had flourished in the role of a stay at home mother. The Norwegian had taken a short break to make sure their children, a boy and a girl who were siblings, transitioned well into their home, and eventually their favourite weekend activity was going to watch their Mamma play.

"Hurry up, León! You didn't even play! And Ingrid isn't even Spanish!" Anaís bellowed, jumping head first into a teasing argument with the Spaniard at the outrageous claim she had made about Ingrid.

With that came a momentary quiet moment for just the two of you. Or, with Oriol too, but he was tired and more than content to slump against his Mama and take in the world around him. Alexia glanced over at her daughter and smiled seeing her bicker with her chosen family, before turning back to you where you were lightly rubbing your son's back to help him settle in the bustling environment.

"I cannot tell you how happy I am that you all came, cariño." Alexia told you quietly, moving to stand side-on so she could face you and also see Oriol's sleepy face. Her smile only brightened at both sights, and she raised an arm to rest around your waist whilst the other settled atop yours on the boy's back. "It is always the best surprise in the world, seeing you three in the stands."

"We would never have missed this, Ale. You must know that by now." You said to her, nudging her lightly.

"Well, I don't want to put pressure on any of you. It is a big ask from me to want you all to fly out here, but you did it anyway and I will always be thankful for that. You must know that by now." She reiterated the phrase back to you with a coy smile, one that deepened as you rolled your eyes affectionately.

"So, how do you feel? Eres campeóna de Europa." You grinned up at her, bumping your hip against her own as she chuckled and casted her eyes down to the medal hanging from her neck.

"It feels like completing the final chapter of a very long book, mi amor." She revealed after a moment. 

There it was again. That look in her eye.

“What's that?” You asked in confusion. She could only shrug and turn to look at her surroundings. Taking it all in. The moment feels very… final.

“I don't know. I just… I think this is it. What else is there for me to do?” 

You understand now. What she's hinting at is as gutting for you as it surely is for her, though it's probably at immeasurable heights for her. Definitely. The realisation steals your breath at first, solely because of the prospect of it, until it falls flat and the dust settles immediately. Because, really, who are you to argue with it.

“Are we on the same page?” You wondered quietly, and her eyes glistened with that familiar shine in the flood lights of the stadium.

“I think we are.” She smiled, one filled with an absurd amount of emotional complexity. It holds all stages of grief, yet peace can be found in it that tells you she's known this for some time. For a brief moment, you wish she could have shared this discreet burden, but it's a habit of hers you've never managed to break and at this point, you don't think you ever will.

“Qué, Mami?” Oriol suddenly lifted his head up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Nada, mijo. Ven aquí.” Alexia gently pried him from you and cuddled him closely to her, her eyes closed as she rested her head against his. “Mami gets to spend more time with you now, mi tesoro, how good is that?”

“Sí, Mami. Tired.” Oriol muttered, turning to hide his face in her neck.

“Lo sé, Oriol. We can go rest soon, just a few photos, vale? Can you do that for me?” 

Almost four years with Oriol, a further seven with Anaís, and the sight of Alexia seamlessly slipping into caring parent mode was still a sight to behold. She had just won the one title that had evaded her for her whole career, yet the only thing she wanted to focus on was her family. And that was what made you want to have children with her in the first place. All these years, all the trophies and titles and achievements later, and she hadn't changed at all.

“Ale.” You hummed, catching her attention as she looked back at you with a soft smile and glossy eyes.

“Sí?”

You paused, hesitating over the one phrase that had tumbled easily from your tongue since your fourth date with her. The hesitation wasn't a bad one, you were just stumped on how to express such an intense feeling. Three words didn't seem sufficient enough. 

“I love you.” Of all the times you had said it before, this one felt the strongest. This one felt like it held the most meaning.

“I love you too, amor.” Alexia replied simply, though the slight quiver in her voice and the bob of her throat revealed she understood the gravity of it too. 

“Te amo.” Oriol sighed, and you suspected the goosebumps on Alexia’s arms weren't from the chill of the evening nor from Oriol's breath on her neck.

“Te amo mucho!” Anaís hugged Alexia's leg after bounding over, placing an exaggerated kiss to her hip.

In one place, on the pitch of a stadium somewhere in Europe, Alexia had got it all. One of the most notable careers of all time in the world of football, and a family with enough love to keep each other afloat through any and all storms.

Her eyes were closed as she hugged both her children, and had you looked away a second earlier, you would have missed how she wiped a tear that slipped out. In an instant, you joined your family, with one arm around Oriol and Alexia and the other on Anaís’ back where she stood hugging her Mami.

“Come on, let's go get your final photo as a futbolista before you hang up your boots.” You said, kissing her temple where she hung her head to fully embed herself in the embrace of her loved ones. 

It seemed like now was the moment it all came to a head for her, where every loss and victory, injury and medal, every sacrifice and gain, it all subsided and she was left with this one last memory of the sport she had given her life to. Truly, there was no other accolade she could collect. She had made every second of her career worth it, the only thing she could do now was reap the benefits. 

There was no doubt in your mind that, in a few years, she’ll be back to the sport that’s in her DNA at this point, except as a coach with the same goal she had as a player. But that’s a future worry, because for now the only item on the agenda was to make sure the final photo of her career is one of carefree, unabashed joy with your children.

With one final wipe of her tears from you, she took Anaís’ hand again and kept Oriol in her hold whilst your hand lingered on her back, and led the four of you to where the trophy was calling her name.

“What does it mean to hang up your boots, Mami?” A quiet but slightly blubbery chuckle came from the woman you loved, before she sniffled and looked to her left at you.

“It means I am going to retire from football, mija.”

[moonchildstyles]

whats this aster curious gazes im seeing ?🥸

wordcount: 2.7k+

—————

Mikaela impatiently checked the time broadcasted on the clock above the auditorium's entrance, trailing after the molasses-slow minute hand. How had it only been three minutes since she last checked and not the twenty she had sworn it had been? She and her group had already finished peer reviewing each other's papers ten minutes ago, but they were all confined to their seats for fear of Professor Rian marking them down for leaving early—one of his favorite activities Mikaela had learned about the hard way during the second week of courses.

"How much longer?" Bria bemoaned from across the table, her own boredom showing in her dull gaze. (Y/N) perked up at Mikaela's side at the question, though she stayed just as quiet as she always was. 

"Another thirty," Mikaela murmured, a moment away from rolling her eyes, "I feel like we've been waiting for, like, an hour." 

Around them, the remaining groups were still chattering, some speaking about the essays while others seemed just as checked out as them. Running a hand through her long hair, Mikaela convinced herself to stay strong. 

"At least it'll be the weekend after this," she reminded the table, looking to Bria, "You're still set on getting your tattoo this weekend?" 

Bria plucked up at the question, her brown eyes sparkling in excitement. "Mhm! They called and confirmed yesterday with me, so I'll be in tomorrow morning, first thing!" 

"Are you going to be with the same guy that you had the consultation with?" Mikaela asked, picturing the long haired, heavily tattooed man she had seen when she went with Bria the first time to set up the initial appointment. She almost booked one for herself after seeing him; even the scowl and less than friendly demeanor couldn't detract from his... everything. 

Leaning across the table as if sharing a secret, Bria raised her eyebrows with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "I hope. I might cancel, if not." 

Mikaela laughed along with her friend, knowing exactly where she was coming from. 

Piping up with a small smile on her features, (Y/N) asked, "Where are you going for your tattoo?" 

"It's not too far from here actually," Bria started, settling her chin in her hand as she spoke to (Y/N) at Mikaela's side. "It's called 17Black." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at the mention of the tattoo parlor in a way Mikaela had never seen before. Though she usually came to class fresh-faced and dewy, there was now a glimmer in her eyes that almost gave the illusion of glitter having fallen in her lashes.

"They're the best," she bubbled, her smile wide, "It's gonna turn out really, really good. You said you know who your artist is going to be?" 

"Yeah—um—hold on," Bria muttered, reaching into her bag, "I got his card last time I was in—I think he's the owner, or something." After a moment she pulled out a black and white business card, reading the name off: "Harry." 

Passing the card across the table, (Y/N) eagerly read over the stylized font and the glossy logo on the other side. "He's amazing—you're super lucky, Bria." 

(Y/N)'s smile wasn't one that could be shaken as she passed back the card. Mikaela thought she looked like she was proud, even. (Y/N) was always so reserved, seemingly more comfortable in the background and only chirping up when needed, Mikaela had never seen her so bright like this. 

"Have you been there before, (Y/N)?" she asked, trying to imagine someone like (Y/N) with any tattoos—especially done at a place like 17Black. 

Not that there was a specific kind of person that could have tattoos or that the parlor wasn't nice, but she had a hard time picturing (Y/N) with all her ribbons, pink sweaters, and shimmer flouncing into that building and getting a design inked into her skin. Especially by someone like Bria's artist; she was already shy enough, Mikaela doubted his scowls and curt tone would be anything of comfort.

That left her raising her brows in surprise when (Y/N) happily nodded her head. "Yeah! I only have one tattoo, but Harry did it and it's"—there was a moment something dreamy flashed over (Y/N)'s gaze then—"It's perfect." 

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," Bria interjected, her expression surely mirroring Mikaela's with her own perked brows and searching gaze as if they had both somehow missed an obvious marking. 

"It's really little," (Y/N) explained, settling some in her seat, "It's on my side, like, on my ribs, so people don't really see it." 

"I never pictured you with a tattoo," Mikaela added, "And especially on your ribs. You're brave." 

"Honestly," Bria started, bouncing full brows over her eyes "I don't know how you got through it, especially with him." 

A cinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?" 

"You probably had to take your shirt off for the rib tattoo, right?" Bria prodded, watching as (Y/N) flustered some before ultimately nodding her head, "I don't know how to act around that guy—Harry—with my clothes on, I think I would combust if he asked me to take them off." 

It wasn't hard to see that (Y/N) was bubbling with embarrassment at Bria's remark—though Mikaela did hardily agree. She wondered if (Y/N) felt the same way; it was hard to picture her getting flustered over someone like Bria's artist. There could be that whole opposites attract thing going on for them, but Mikaela could only really see the scenario where Harry would crush the marshmallow that is (Y/N).

"Oh, I don't know," she muttered half-heartedly, trailing off without a real answer, "You know, he's just..." 

"It's okay, I get it," Bria finished for her with a bubbling laugh that had (Y/N) cracking her own polite smile. "He's pretty intimidating, honestly. Not for everyone, I guess." 

With her hands a bundle in her lap, (Y/N) tilted her head, "I wouldn't say that—" 

Not a moment too soon, Professor Rian made his way back to the forefront of the auditorium—something Mikaela wished he would have done a half an hour prior. "Class dismissed. Next Wednesday we'll do our final draft reviews and the finished essays will be due next Friday at midnight. Have a nice weekend." 

"Finally," Bria exasperated, immediately rushing to pack her things just as Mikaela had before Rian had even finished talking.

(Y/N) had done the smart thing and had her things ready to go once they had finished peer reviewing, only having to sling her bag over her shoulder while she quietly waited for the pair of them to get their own shit together. 

It was wild how much more awake Mikaela felt now that class had been dismissed, leaving behind the exhausted state she was lulling into at her desk. Shrugging into her jacket, the mental list of tasks she had to accomplish before her sister, Mira, and her boyfriend would be over for dinner didn't sound so bad now.

"What are you getting, Bria? For your tattoo, I mean," she chirped up, peering around Mikaela as they walked into the corridor, steps in sync with one another. 

"The moon and some stars and stuff on the top of my hand," she explained, "It's kind of hard to describe without a picture, but it's this whole thing." 

"That sounds really pretty," (Y/N) smiled, sincerity in her voice, "Hopefully it won't take too long—I hear the top of your hand can hurt sometimes with the bones and all." 

"It might not be so bad if it took a while, right?" Mikaela piped up, shooting Bria a look from the corner of her eye. Maybe, if Mira and her boyfriend didn't overstay their welcome tonight, she'd go with Bria in the morning and see if her artist had a girlfriend or something. 

(Or was at least open to hooking up on one of the tattoo chairs). 

Leading down the hall towards the main entrance of the building, Bria nudged Mikaela's shoulder. Ahead of them, (Y/N) reached forward and opened the door for the three of them to pass through. 

"Definitely wouldn't be bad," Bria laughed, the chill of the winter air seeping through the sleeves of Mikaela's jacket as they stepped outside. "I don't know, I might even—Wait, oh my god." 

"What?" Mikaela asked, brows furrowing at the abrupt change in her friend. 

Instead of the amused bubbly expression she wore just a moment prior, Bria now looked ahead with wide eyes and gaped lips, her steps slowing over the concrete. 

(Y/N) noticed the change in her demeanor as well, peering around Mikaela as her own features molded into something of worry. "What happened?"

"He's here," Bria muttered, looking straight ahead towards the student parking lot, "That's literally him right there, isn't it? Why is he here?" 

"Who? Who's her—" 

Following Bria's line of sight, Mikaela felt her own words get stuck in her throat when she saw just what had her friend going limp. 

As if summoned, Bria's tattoo artist—Harry—had somehow found a prime parking space in the student lot and was now waiting.

He was ever the intimidating figure with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the hulking frame of the black Range Rover behind him. (Because, of course, he would drive a Range Rover). Even with the chunky black cardigan draped over his form, he didn't look any less imposing than when he had stalked through the tattoo parlor. He perfectly matched his car, all black, tattoos tracing over his skin, including the heavy chest pieces on display from the low scoop of his top. A pair of sunglasses were holding his hair back on the top of his head, with his lips set in a firm line, lip ring and all.

"He doesn't go here, right?" Mikaela blanched. Why else would be here, if not to go to class, right?

(Y/N) looked just as bewildered as they were, a cant to her head as she took him in. "What is he doing here?" she muttered, voice quiet enough to be speaking to herself.

Their small trio stood off to the side, out of the way as the rest of their classmates trickled around them as well as other students meandering through campus. From where they stood, Mikaela could see the way the tattoo artist scanned over the student body, searching for something—or someone.

He didn't come to see Bria, right? That would be crazy, leaning on certifiable—even if he was hot.

Mikaela's eyes widened when she saw (Y/N) wave her hand above her head. What was she doing? Did she not think this was weird that he had showed up to campus when he really didn't have any reason to? 

She watched as he caught sight of (Y/N)'s waving arm and his features almost immediately softened. Even from where they were standing, it was clear to see the tension releasing from his body in a breath. He pushed off from where he was lent against his Range Rover and started towards the building—towards them.

Was (Y/N) insane or something, and they'd just missed all the signs until this moment? Why would she ask him to come over here?

"He's coming over here, what the fuck," Bria murmured, just as lost as Mikaela. 

It didn't take long for his spanning strides to cross the concrete and take him to where their small group had taken root. Seeing him this close again, Mikaela realized her memory didn't do him any justice—he was more than gorgeous. Unfortunately crazy, but still hot. 

Had he always had his nose pierced? Had his eyes always been that green? Had they always been pinned to (Y/N) like that? 

"(Y/N), do you—" Bria started, only to cut herself off when (Y/N) excitedly bounced up to her toes once the tattoo artist was close. 

"What are you doing here, H?" she chirped, familiarity in her voice as she looked up at him.

Mikaela figured she wore the same expression that Bria did, with her eyes wide and brows raised, a fraction away from her jaw dropping as they watched the tattoo artist—H—pull (Y/N) into his arms and drop a kiss on the top of her head.

"Came to pick you up for lunch, if that's okay," he murmured, not sparing a glance their way as he kept the pink marshmallow in his arms. "I also noticed there was an extra jacket lying around my room that I thought was supposed to be with you." 

Sheepishly looking down, (Y/N) shook her head. "I forgot, I'm sorry." 

Adoration was clear on the tattoo artist's—her boyfriend—features. "'S alright, lovebug. I brought it with me so y'can have it the rest of the day, jus' don't keep forgetting it. 'S only getting colder out, I don't want you to get sick." 

"I won't," (Y/N) sighed, looking entirely at home as she clutched his sweater in her hands and fluttered her lashes at him as if he were a king. "Thank you." 

Mikaela couldn't help the simmering of her blood beneath her skin, surely a flush painting her complexion as she thought back to just what she and Bria had been saying during class. They talked all about how hot (Y/N)'s boyfriend was to her face, implied he was intimidating and not her type, and she had even heard them freak out thinking he had come to see them. She was never going to pair with them for peer review again.

(Though Mikaela will give herself credit for not speaking about the lingering fantasy she'd had involving one of those tattoo chairs and Harry's hair pulled back so he could focus). 

"Um," Mikaela sounded, almost cringing at how stupid she sounded from just a single syllable, "I think we should probably go, but we'll see you next week, (Y/N)." 

(Y/N) turned with her expression going bashful. Her boyfriend's hands didn't move from where they were on her waist though he finally looked up from her to see the rest of the world around them. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized as if in reflex. Looking at the man behind her, she started with a shy smile on her lips, "Harry, this is Bria and Mikaela. They're the girls from one of my English classes I've told you about." 

Back was the expression she recognized from when she had dropped by the tattoo parlor. His features hardened some, going less open and easy to read than they had been just a moment ago. He took them in with a stilted smile on his lips. 

"Nice to meet you," he murmured, his gaze flicking to Bria for a split second longer, "Actually, we've met before, right? You're my nine a.m. tomorrow." 

"I am, yeah," Bria said, sounding just as lame as Mikaela felt. It was easy to see Bria was floundering for anything to say before she finally settled on, "(Y/N) didn't tell us she had a boyfriend." 

His smile turned lopsided at that, amusement flickering in his gaze as he looked down at the marshmallow in his arms. "She didn't?" 

(Y/N) looked to the pair of them, biting back a smile as if remembering what was said back in class but deciding it was their secret to keep. "It just didn't come up." 

"Right," he smiled, squeezing her waist just enough to get her bouncing at his side with a short huff of laughter pouring out, "Are you ready to go?" 

"I think so, yeah," (Y/N) agreed, craning her neck to smile up at him before returning her attention to Mikaela and Bria. "I'll see you guys next week."

The pair shared similar goodbyes, hoping they didn't sound as embarrassed as they felt. Walking away from them, Mikaela watched Harry tangle his fingers with (Y/N), slowing just long enough to press a kiss to her forehead before leading her towards his Range Rover.

"We are the most annoying people in the world," Mikaela said, breaking their silence, "We literally said all of that about him to his girlfriend." 

"She's never going to partner for peer review with us again." 

Despite the guilt and bits of humiliation floating through her system, Mikaela couldn't shake off just how sweet it was to see (Y/N) interact with someone like that—especially someone like her boyfriend. They were clearly in love, that much she could tell.

"Oh my god," Bria said, whipping her head around to look at Mikaela with horror stricken eyes. 

"What?" Mikaela asked, taken aback at the sudden urgency in Bria's voice. Was another person they had lusted over to their partner, about to round the corner? 

"I have to see him again tomorrow," Bria whined, "And, (Y/N)'s probably going to tell him what we said." 

At that thought, Mikaela really hoped her sister would overstay her welcome tonight—give her a reason to stay in bed and leave Bria to her appointment alone. 

—————

this is the first time im trying out this kind of pov so I really hope everyone like it! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas you want to share!

[artificial-transmutations]

Strength Within

Tiberius was humming slightly as he carefully, almost tenderly, chipped away another piece of marble. It was a warm summer day, and he was working on one of his best pieces yet: A statue of a gladiator, made of the finest marble. It was going to replace one of the hundreds of statues in the great Colosseum. There had been a storm some weeks ago, and a few of the lighter statues had been toppled over, breaking them beyond repair in the process. It had been a great honor to be asked to create a replacement, and Tiberius had immediately started to work on it.

It was the statue of a young man, his body chiseled out of a piece of white marble that Tiberius had bought at the market. He was so focused on the statue in front of him that he almost didn't hear the noise of approaching feet. Only when the person stopped right next to him, did Tiberius avert his gaze.

It was Marcus, Tiberius' slave, a young man with a lean, fit body. Tiberius even supposed that the young man was kind of handsome, at least judging from the attention Marcus got when he went to the forum for him. Right now, however, the slave seemed flustered, almost fearful even.

"Master, there... there is a visitor for you."

Tiberius frowned slightly. Usually, Marcus knew not to disturb him when he was working. One wrong move and the whole statue could be ruined.

"Well, can't you see I am busy? This is most important work. Imagine all the people who are going to see my statue at the great Colosseum when they pass it by. Even the nobles, perhaps even the emperor himself. I can hardly afford to make mistakes here. Tell the visitor to return after sundown."

Marcus gulped slightly.

"Master, it's..."

Another voice, strong and filled with arrogance, spoke up. "I will most certainly not return after sundown. I am here, after all, to inspect the work for my Colosseum."

Slowly, Tiberius turned around before letting himself fall to his knees in a panicked motion. Standing in front of him was no one else but Cornelius Magnus, the emperor of Rome. The most powerful man in the whole world was standing here, in the backyard of Tiberius' villa, clad in the finest toga.

"Y-your lordship, I am so sorry! Please, forgive me for being rude!"

"Oh, I forgive you, artist." Said the emperor, stepping closer to Tiberius. "You seem like a nice enough man."

Tiberius was still looking at the ground as the noble came closer.

"Stand up, artist!" The emperor commanded.

Tiberius was shaking like a leaf as he got back on his feet.

"I... thank you, your lordship."

The emperor thankfully didn't comment on his stuttering and instead looked at the marble statue.

"I can see why the great Colosseum has employed you. This is truly a magnificent piece. Who is it supposed to represent?"

"That... uhm. It's nobody, actually. I was just imagining a gladiator."

"Ah, I see. And what a fine gladiator he would make, too." The emperor replied.

Tiberius couldn't help but blush slightly. It was such an honor to receive praise from the emperor himself.

"But tell me, artist! Why is his chest so smooth and unadorned? Where is all the manly hair you would expect on a man of his strength?"

"I-I just figured that... you know... a gladiator would look better without chest hair. More... more elegant. It's the style, you see. Also, it is almost impossible to capture these fine details in marble."

"Hm. A pity you think so." The emperor continued to look at the statue for a few moments before turning towards Tiberius.

"You know, I have not only come to inspect the art, but also the artist." The look of the emperor now lingered on Tiberius himself, making him feel entirely uncomfortable. It was just the same judging look he just used on the marble statue.

"What... what do you mean?", Tiberius stammered.

The emperor didn't answer the question, but slowly circled around Tiberius. "You are aware that you are my subject, yes? That I basically own you, just like you own that slave boy?" he asked in a casual tone.

"I... yes, I am. I would never dream of questioning your authority." Tiberius didn't like where this was going, and he knew the emperor was, in fact, wrong. He was a free citizen, not a slave. Not even the emperor *owned* him. But that were semantics he didn't want to lose this job over.

"Good. It pleases me that you are not a troublemaker. It makes my life easier. I do not enjoy punishing my subjects." The emperor paused and then looked directly at Tiberius.

"Now, take off your toga."

"My... my toga?"

"Yes, you heard me."

"Eh..." Tiberius didn't know how to react. It wasn't that he didn't want to obey the emperor, it was just that the command made no sense to him. He had no idea what the emperor had planned.

"Are you refusing an order from your emperor?" The man now asked with a hint of danger in his voice.

"N-no, of course not, your lordship!"

Still shaking, Tiberius untied his toga, exposing his naked chest.

The eyes of the emperor were akin to those of a vulture as he studied the exposed body of his subject.

"Pitiful. But your face is agreeable at least. Agreeable enough at least. Get on your knees, boy, and use that mouth of yours to serve your emperor."

Tiberius froze.

"I... I don't understand."

"Don't be daft. You are going to suck me off. Use that mouth for something other than talking."

Tiberius stared at the man with disbelief.

"No." Everything in Tiberius was revolting against that request. He wasn't a particular fan of being intimate with other men, but even more importantly, he wouldn't let himself be forced to that against his will. Not even by the emperor. He was a free citizen.

The emperor had a cold look in his eyes as he spoke up:

"What did you say? I thought I misheard."

"I... I said no." Tiberius was trembling, but he managed to keep his voice firm.

"You... dare to defy me? You dare to defy your emperor? You will regret that, artist. You just forfeit all your privileges. Your life is not worth anything anymore. Do you know what happens to slaves who disobey their master? They are taken to the arena and fight to the death against wild beasts."

Before Tiberius could protest - or react at all - the emperor snapped his fingers. The clicking sound was unnaturally loud, like the crack of a whip. All of a sudden, Tiberius felt weak. Shadows and darkness came closing in from all sides despite it being a sunny day. He barely heard the voice of Marcus cry out, as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

***

When Tiberius awoke, he was not in bright sunlight anymore. Instead, he found himself in a dark dungeon. Moist stone surrounded him and as he got on his feet carefully, he noticed that he was imprisoned. His cell was small and empty aside from a heap of straw that served as a bed. It smelled as bad as Tiberius would have expected, and light only came in from a torch in the corridor through the iron barred door.

Tiberius stumbled towards the door, holding on to the bars for support. He was weak and felt lightheaded. He was also wearing different clothes, a simple tunic and sandals.

Of course, Tiberius recognized his surroundings. He had not been here before, but he recognized the masonry. He was in the coliseum, the biggest and most famous structure in Rome. Only now, he wasn't in the part where visitors went, and statues stood. He was in the dungeons beneath the arena.

"Hello?" He called out, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Even though he didn't expect any reaction, he heard steps approaching. He thought the sound of the steps sounded familiar and, really, a familiar face appeared in the torchlight.

"Marcus!"

"Master! You're awake!" The slave was obviously happy to see him.

"What happened?"

"It was all very weird. After the emperor snapped his fingers, it became really dark for a moment, and you collapsed. Then, the emperor ordered his guards to bring you to the coliseum as a new gladiator. And then, all your stuff was being sold off. I, too, was sold to the arena, although not as a fighter. They need a lot of support staff for the fights, so I was bought to be a cleaner and a servant. Oh, and the emperor's guards took your statue and smashed it. He was really angry at you."

Tiberius needed a moment to digest that information.

"I'm a... gladiator now?"

Most gladiators were slaves, or criminals, or prisoners of war. It was about the lowest one could fall, and all just because he had the nerve to refuse the emperor. Still, even though Tiberius felt anger swelling in himself, he wasn't angry at himself, but that *asshole* of an emperor.

"Master, I'm so sorry, I..." began Marcus, but Tiberius quickly cut him off.

"What happened is not your fault. And don't call me master. I'm not your master anymore. I'm a servant myself, as it seems. Just call me Tiberius."

"But I can't..."

"It's okay, Marcus. Just do it."

"Okay, Tiberius. Thank you. We will figure something out. The emperor said he would 'inspect his work' later, perhaps you can appeal to him then."

That sounded reasonable. However, Tiberius didn't *feel* reasonable. He felt... enraged. Full of furious energy. His whole body felt like it was on fire from within.

"Perhaps." Tiberius murmured, clenching his fists.

"How... how long was I unconscious?"

"Two days."

"Do you have any food?"

"Yes, the kitchen is well stocked. Let me get you something."

While Marcus fetched the food, Tiberius was left alone with his thoughts.

Being turned into a gladiator was pretty much a death sentence, at least for someone like Tiberius. He looked down on himself and looked at his lean, but not overly fit body. He wouldn't last ten minutes in the arena.

However, as he looked, the warm feeling inside of him intensified. Every breath he took in seemed deeper than the last, and every time he exhaled, his chest didn't recede all the way, as if his lungs were expanding with each breath.

When Marcus returned, he almost cried out: "Ma- Tiberius! What is happening to you?"

By now, his chest had barreled out considerably and his clothes felt tight. When he spoke, the added lung volume made his voice resonate somewhat deeper. "I don't know." He replied. "What is happening to me?"

"You... are growing."

"I know." came Tiberius frustrated answer. "It's like my chest is blowing up."

"It's not just your chest! Your shoulders, too."

It was difficult for Tiberius to look at his own shoulders, but he found Marcus was right: His shoulders had become considerably wider, and his arms were further apart then just minutes before.

"I feel like I'm growing. Growing stronger, I mean. My body feels so energized. I feel like I could smash that iron door with my bare hands."

"Well, perhaps you should try not to. This is some weird magic going on, no doubt." Despite his words, Marcus didn't just appear to be frightened. A certain ...interest was clearly audible in his voice, too.

Tiberius could hardly focus on it, though. His simple tunic felt even tighter as his arms and legs began to swell with strength and muscles. At the same time, his chest and shoulders expanded further and further, the fabric stretching beyond its limits. The seam of his tunic ripped, and the garment fell apart, leaving his torso naked.

"Fuck." Normally, it would be unlike Tiberius to curse like that, but now it came to him naturally. On the other hand, he found it more and more difficult to focus on the more complex thoughts, like *why* he was changing.

All of a sudden, an itching feeling spread quickly over his body.

"Gods, my armpits!" Cried Tiberius, scratching his underarms and sides.

"Let me see." Marcus quickly rushed closer, and indeed, small hairs began to grow out of the previously smooth pits. They didn't stop there, though. quickly, like a fire, the pelt of hair covered his bare chest and back, quickly spreading further north and south from there.

"Your face!" exclaimed the slave, before obviously getting an idea. He produced a small piece of polished silver and handed it to Tiberius, allowing him to see his own face change.

While before, his face had been lengthy, crowned by dark curly hair, he was changing quickly now. His skull reformed to a blockier appearance, radiating a form of rugged but outlandish and primitive manliness. Coarse stubble grew on his chin, and his curly hair straightened into strong spiky strands in an exotic blonde color.

This wasn't the face of a roman, Tiberius knew that. It was the face of a barbarian from the north, a member of the tribes of Germania. Confusingly, Tiberius didn't feel particularly disgusted by becoming some filthy animalistic barbarian from the north. Instead, he felt... pride? It was hard to find the right words, even more so, as his knowledge in Latin diminished to a heavily accented basis.

He looked back at Marcus, who was watching the whole process with big eyes. Well, not only big eyes, as Tiberius noticed. The excitement was clearly visible in the loin area of his clothing. That, in turn, was oddly exciting for Tiberius. The thought that he preferred female company was quickly diminishing as his own member grew. It wasn't just that his cock was becoming stiff, no. It was also becoming *bigger*. In Rome, a small cock was considered civilized. But Tiberius wasn't from Rome anymore. In Germania, a big fuckstick was something to be proud of! And proud he was.

It was impossible for Marcus not to realize the hefty tool Tiberius was now sporting.

"Tiberius, you..." he said, but again, Tiberius cut him off. "It's Torben." he said with his gruff accented voice. After a moment, he added: "I... like you Marcus. Really." He wanted to express more than that. He wanted to express gratitude that Marcus was there for him, and he wanted to express the deep fluttery feeling that was composed of both barely contained lust for the other man and emotional closeness, but Torben didn't know the words for that.

However, even though Torben lacked the words, it looked like Marcus understood him perfectly well. Still separated by the bars, he brought his face close to Torben's. So close they could feel each other’s breath. However, just as their lips parted, the door to the dungeon opened. Quickly, both men took a step back.

It was the emperor, a smug grin on his mouth.

"Ah, the artist. Although, you're not much of an artist now, are you? But don't worry. What you lack on status now, you'll make up in entertainment value for the people of Rome. Or..." he paused for a moment before continuing. "For me. In my grace I have decided to give you one. last. chance. Serve in my bedchamber for one week and you shall have your former body back and be exiled. Now that is a most generous offer, if you ask me."

Torben couldn't help himself and snorted.

"And what if I don't accept?"

"Why, you stay like that of course. And be eaten by lions, eventually, I suppose."

Torben looked at the emperor intensely. The offer wasn't that bad, he had to admit. Being with men wasn't a problem anymore for him, and a week wasn't that long. The only trouble was his burning hatred for that arrogant asshole. Nevertheless, it was his best shot at survival.

Torben was just about to agree, when his gaze fell on Marcus. Torben wasn't too bright, but he understood: If he returned to his old life, he wouldn't be attracted to Marcus anymore. Even more so, he would be exiled, without him. Torben might be strong as a bull, but the thought alone made his knees weak.

"No." he said firmly. "I stay. With Marcus."

Clearly, the emperor did not expect that. His expression changed from surprise to anger, and, after a few seconds, to an amused grin.

"My, aren't you a strong one. Even now you have the audacity to defy me. You realize I could just let you have executed right now?"

"Yes." Torben said, with his head held high.

"Ha. You really must like that slave boy. Fine, have it your way. Stay a gladiator, see how long you survive."

The emperor turned around and went for the door. When he reached it, he turned around once more.

"You know, it doesn't happen often, but every now and then a gladiator can earn back his freedom. I'll be delighted to see you try."

The closing door felt as if Torben's fate had been sealed. He looked to Marcus, unsure what to think, but the young man just smiled.

"Thank you.", he said, and closed in for that kiss. Life surely wouldn't be easy from now on, but Torben had a goal. He would fight for freedom, both his own and Marcus'.

Hey, if you like Torben or Tiberius, check out my Tip Jar - There are many alternate versions of him!

[hundredandsix]

nsfw alphabet ✩ [ellie williams] ✩

[ ellie x female!reader ]

✩ wc: 3k

✩ cw: mdni (18+), talk of sex (oral, fingering) and sexual dynamics

(a) ✩ aftercare ✩ (what they're like after sex)

She couldn't imagine not doing aftercare. For her, it's just as important as the act itself. What's the point of taking each other apart if you're not there to put each other back together? The yearning and quiet comfort that comes with it puts her at ease.

Nothing too crazy happens because most of the time you're both too tired. You'll help each other put clothes back on and maybe take a shower together if things got... messy. Cuddling until you fall asleep and just being in each other's company is enough—except for when you fight over who gets to be the big spoon.

And don't forget that she needs to be taken care of too! She won't ask for it, but she needs it just as much as you do. Kiss her scars and tell her she's pretty because she's really just a big softie.

(b) ✩ body part ✩ (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner's)

Hers— She doesn't often think about how she looks. As long as she's not hungry and her hair is out of her face, she doesn't feel the need to put in that much effort. If she had to choose, she would probably say her hands. She likes that you like them. And she especially likes how they look when they're touching you. Her tattoo isn't technically a part of her body, but that's also one of her favorites. She would get more if she had the time. She might need to find a new tattoo artist though.

Yours—It's your ass. And she is not afraid to say that or show it. She goes absolutely feral for you. As soon as you're alone, she's grabbing you and pressing her front to your back. And when you're not alone, she finds ways to get around it. She doesn't like for other people to be in on your dirty secrets, but every time she remembers that you're hers, it sends a thrum of excitement through her.

(c) ✩ cum ✩ (anything that has to do with it)

Not to be crass, but Ellie Williams is absolutely filthy.

When it comes to her, she gets embarrassed about making a mess for you. When you taunt her for it, a pretty blush covers her face, but she'll pout and try to distract you. She'll cover her face with her hands and pretend she doesn't like it, but your teasing words make her want to go another round.

But when it comes to you, she wants you all over her. Literally sit on her face. Wherever you want. Whenever you want. She's down. She loves to make a big show of licking her fingers after fingering you. Ellie can't get enough of you. The mess makes it better in her opinion.

(d) ✩ dirty secret ✩ (pretty self-explanatory)

This isn't a secret as you get further into your relationship, but she is a switch at heart. She prefers to top and is more comfortable that way, but she loves it when you take control. At first, she's uncomfortable with you taking the reins. When she's in control, she can at least take charge of the situation and know what to expect. It feels so foreign to her for someone to completely focus on her and her pleasure. She just has to sit there and think about it. When she gets stuck in her head like that, you have to be the one to pull her out.

On a side note, something she actually won't tell you is that she wants you to tie her up. Nothing crazy. Maybe tie her hands to the headboard so she's forced to only think about you and what you're doing to her.

(e) ✩ experience ✩ (do they know what they’re doing?)

She clearly has at least a little experience. She would get around in Jackson if the opportunity arose, but likely wouldn't initiate anything. In the game, Cat and Dina both approached her romantically first. Her sex life would follow that trend.

She's not shy about her body, and she knows how to make a girl feel good, but she also doesn't like sex if there's no emotional connection there. It feels so much better to her when you really love the person you're with.

(f) ✩ favorite position ✩

As we've established, Ellie is an ass girl. She loves to hit it from the back, but she also doesn't like not being able to see your face. She's big on eye contact. If you close your eyes for too long, she'll tap the side of your jaw to remind you. If she's not eating you out, she likes to be face-to-face.

As for her, she's a hypocrite and tries to hide when things get intense. She likes being able to grab a pillow to shove her face into when she thinks she's going to be loud. She doesn't care what position you push her in. She just wants you to be happy and for you to make her feel good.

(g) ✩ goofy ✩ (are they more serious in the moment?)

Sex is full of loving, intimate moments for her. Ellie loves being with someone that she can laugh with. It's never that serious with her. She thinks it takes the fun out of it. She'll laugh at herself when she says something dorky in the moment or fumbles over her words. She can be serious, but she prefers joking around.

(h) ✩ hair ✩ (grooming habits)

It's the apocalypse. She's just happy she can still grow hair. She'd keep it trimmed obviously, and she'd likely expect the same from you. But she wouldn't care what you decide to do with it. Ellie would never let a little hair stop her from getting what she wants.

(i) ✩ intimacy ✩ (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It's 50/50 with her. Most of the time, she prefers the romantic, soul-shatteringly intimate kind of sex, but it's not uncommon for her to be rough—or to want you to be rough with her. With it being an apocalypse there isn't a lot of time to be intimate, so she likes to make the most of what you do have.

On the other hand, she is filthy. Sometimes she doesn't want to take her time. She'll want it messy and loud and so fast that you almost didn't realize it happened. She loves the kind of sex that leaves you or her walking funny the next day. The reminder of the previous night gets her worked up all over again.

(j) ✩ jack off ✩ (masturbation headcanon)

After all that she's been through and the 24354345 different traumas she's experienced, I wouldn't be surprised if she has trouble getting in the mood or even finishing when she's by herself.

She needs external motivation and someone else to talk her through it. If there's no one there to get her out of her head, she doesn't get very far. There is also so little time that she'd be able to. She'd constantly be on patrol or with Jesse and Dina. And why would she waste time trying to get herself off when you could be there helping her instead?

(k) ✩ kink ✩ (one or more of their kinks)

restraint— It doesn't matter to her whether she's physically holding you down or if she actually tied your hands. She thinks it's hot either way. The sounds you make when you're so desperate to touch her make it hard for her to focus. But don't worry, she's ready for you to do the same to her.

hair pulling—Goes feral when you pull her hair. Use it to move her where you need her. Run your fingers through it and gently scratch her scalp. Anything to do with her hair gets her going. She'll take it down just for you.

choking (sort of)— I think she'd be very uncomfortable with the idea of actually choking you or you choking her, but she likes the dominance that comes with putting a hand around your partner's neck. She won't push down, and she won't want you to either, but the idea that she could makes her throb. She likes the thrill of it. Going back to her hands, she also likes how her fingers look wrapped around you. If she had a camera, she'd take a picture of it.

praise— Again, she's not exactly insecure, but she loves it when you talk her through it. She could nearly get off to your voice alone. She might play around with the idea of humiliation, but if you say something too mean, she'll get all pouty.

edging/overstimulation— These aren't the same thing, but she'd use them together. She loves the sounds you make when you're about to cum. If she can prolong that in any way, she will. And when she finally does let you finish, she'd keep going because "this is what you wanted, right?"

(l) ✩ location ✩ (where they like to get it on)

She wouldn't be opposed to any remote areas. It's hard for her to get in the mood when the threat of people seeing or something killing you is hanging over her head. She likes her little shack best of all. It's where she feels most like herself. She likes your place, too, but can never get enough of seeing your writhing body in her bed.

(m) ✩ motivation ✩ (things that make them tick/turn-ons)

I don't think it would take a lot to get her in the mood when you're around. She's kind of obsessed with you tbh. Especially when you're in public, she notices all of the little things you do and it just makes her heart throb.

She'd be quick to assure you that she enjoys merely your company. Ellie doesn't want you to feel like she's using you. Even if it takes very little to get her going, she wants you to feel that same level of desire before she starts something.

(n) ✩ no ✩ (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

She wouldn't want to do anything that would really hurt you or her. She's okay with playing around with the idea—like with the hand around your/her throat—but she doesn't want anything that causes actual physical pain. You both get enough of that in your daily lives, and she doesn't see any sense in contributing to that.

Also, she hates for people to get any idea of your sex life. She likes those secret moments to be between you and her. A little pda is fine, but anything more than that is reserved for the bedroom.

(o) ✩ oral ✩ (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think everyone on this entire site has established that Ellie is a munch, and there has never been a truer statement. She learns what makes you tic and squirm and will use that against you every single time. It never gets old with Ellie.

She likes to receive just as much. It's her favorite way you get her off. To her, there's nothing prettier than you looking up at her from between her legs. The way you gaze up at her from under your eyelashes with your face wet from her arousal drives her wild.

(p) ✩ pace ✩ (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Even when the tone is more romantic, I think she usually opts for a faster pace unless she's teasing you. She gets so impatient sometimes and just wants to hear you and feel you. It really depends on the mood though because she'll do whatever you want her to. When she's more serious, she'll go slower and take her time.

(q) ✩ quickie ✩ (their opinion on quickies, how often, etc.)

She wouldn't choose a quickie over taking her time with you, but with your busy schedules sometimes you have to settle for one. That's not to say they aren't as good though because Ellie knows what the hell she's doing. She would never tell you, but she's keeping a mental record of the fastest she's made you cum. There's no harm in a little competition.

(r) ✩ risk ✩ (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

She would be hesitant to bring up things she'd like to try but is willing to give what you recommend a chance. As long as it doesn't risk you getting hurt or someone in Jackson seeing something they shouldn't, she's down to try almost anything.

(s) ✩ stamina ✩ (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ellie doesn't tire easily. Considering there's an apocalypse, she has to be physically fit. That being said, she is also an insomniac. She'll stay up all night but then get tired at random times throughout the day. Sometimes her sleeping habits have a negative impact on her stamina. If you have the time, she likes to go multiple rounds—with snack breaks of course because she works up an appetite.

(t) ✩ toys ✩ (do they own toys? do they use them?)

Unpopular opinion, but I think she would prefer to get you off herself. She's a cocky little shit and wants to prove that she doesn't need any help to make you cum. I can't imagine her using them on herself either. There's also the fact that sex toys haven't been made in 20+ years. Even if you did find anything, it's likely too old to use.

In the small chance that you do find something, she would use it on you if you asked, but it's not her instinct to reach for it. She would let you use it on her, but it would be more about your enjoyment than hers.

(u) ✩ unfair ✩ (how much they like to tease)

Ellie loves to tease. She lives for the sounds you make and how desperate you get. The power gets to her head when you're groping all over her and begging her to let you cum.

But if you try to tease her, game over. She'll humor you for a little bit, but she gets so impatient and even more desperate than you do. Unless you physically restrain her, she'll find a way to get out of the teasing, whether it's distracting you or just reaching down to finish herself off.

(v) ✩ volume ✩ (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ellie loves it when you're loud, but not loud enough that anyone else could hear you. That's for her and her alone. You usually do most of the talking, but she's not silent. If she's really in the moment, she has no problem doing dirty talk, but she gets so embarrassed about it afterward. She can't help but laugh about it because the thought of it kind of freaks her out. She prefers to leave that up to you.

She's always trying to suppress any sounds that threaten to leave her mouth. Most of the time her moans come out as groans or gasps, but if you're lucky and catch her off guard, she'll whimper.

(w) ✩ wild card ✩ (a random headcanon for the character)

If you've seen my loser!Ellie headcanons, you already know about this, but Ellie is the biggest, dorkiest loser ever. It doesn't take much to get her going because she's obsessed with you. She'll follow you around everywhere and gets so excited about showing you the new comic book or cards she found.

She likes to think she's the one in control, but it is and will always be you. One quirk of your eyebrow and she's on her knees for you. If you're feeling nice, you can humor her but just know she's completely and utterly whipped for you. She'd do anything if you ask her nicely enough.

(x) ✩ x-ray ✩ (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Hypothetically speaking, if she had a strap, it would be purple.

Under her clothes, she's skinny, but there's still muscle there. Her legs are strong from all the walking and running she does. Her stomach is also very toned, and it's so sexy to watch it flex as you're pleasuring her. And her arms. She's no Abby Anderson, but she's surprisingly strong considering her muscle mass. She's strong enough to maneuver you and bend you how she likes, which is all that matters to her.

Oh and the freckles covering her whole body. They're so pretty and she loves when you trace over them with your fingers or tongue. She doesn't understand why you like them so much but she's not complaining.

(y) ✩ yearning ✩ (how high is their sex drive?)

Her drive is relatively normal. She doesn't want every time you are alone to be taken up by sex. Ellie yearns much more in the emotional sense. She wants to hold you and for you to hold her. She wants to feel your body heat against hers and listen to the sound of your laugh. It doesn't take much for her to get in the mood when it comes to you, but she also likes to just enjoy your company. She doesn't want you to feel like she's using you.

(z) ✩ zzzz ✩ (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She always tries to stay awake, but as soon as you're finished and cuddling, she passes tf out. The problem is that she'll never admit it. She'll be laying with her face pressed to your bare chest, eyes shut, and letting out little breaths against your skin. She tries so hard to stay awake and listen to what you're saying to her but can't contribute much more to the conversation than "mmhm" and "yeah." When you ask her if she's asleep, she'll always say no.

But it's okay because she looks so cute when she sleeps. And she definitely earned it.

a/n- My ask box is open if you want to send me your thoughts ;)

[xuchiya]

"photograper" || drabble || park seonghwa

park seonghwa. the sophisticated, formal and world-business and philanthropist man known to this generation. he is young to be successful, but age does not choose its successor but yourself.

hence, with all the trophy, money and luxury in his hands, a woman is his least item in his hands. he had respect for love and biggest respect for woman he come across (even with the greediness and the aura of gold digger), he ends them with respect.

that's why no one can speak ill about him.

and here you are, with your headphones on, a nikkon camera sling on your shoulder and a laptop on your lap. you are free-lancer, a woman with many dreams. you like reading, you like writing, you like painting, you like so many things that you wanted to achieve them even with the smallest amount of money couldn't stop you.

that is until you spoke too soon.

you are indeed a free-lancer yet things still stop you from reach your dreams except for the bills.

and here you are, with your headphones on, a nikkon camera sling on your shoulder and a laptop on your lap, looking for a cheaper apartment that you could stay for a while.

"fuck ... i am so sorry!" a spilled of coffee were on your laptop. you watch in horror how it sparks and the screen died, how your hopes died along with it.

you cried. banging your head on the table, the person who spilled the drink glance at you then to the curious crowd. they lean down, trying to stop you from crying, "hey hey .. i can pay for it."

"t-that's my only hope of getting a job or pay my bills ..." you rose your head, turning towards the person only to be left starstruck. seonghwa who didn't notice the space between you two before he pulls away, face slightly red but composed.

"w-well to make it up to you, i'll hand you a new one or ... maybe i can help you with a job. as my compensation for wrecking your device." seonghwa notice the camera on your neck.

an idea came in his mind.

and that is how he found himself, in a studio, lights everywhere and camera flashing with new poses. you, as his new and personal photographer, checks from the big screen if the angle is good or not.

"that's good. let's take a break!" few staffs thank you as they went outside to take a breather while his make-up artist re-touch his makeup. you lean on the table, checking the photos until you felt a presence in front of you.

you look up and smile, placing the camera down before throwing your arms around his neck. his coat, draping around his broad shoulders, fell from his shoulder yet your instinct were fast. you caught it on time and place it back on his shoulder.

"hi honey." you shake your head but your cheeks were flaring. seonghwa has a big effect on you, from his hair, down to his pouty lips down to his broad ass shoulder that you can imagine throwing your legs on them, to his body proportion and down to his glory.

you have seen them. being a personal photographer to the well-known man has its perks.

"hi." with a yank, you pulled him down by his coat and smashed your lips on him. your relationship isn't a secret to the others afterall, it was about time he settles down.

your lips interlock on one another, a surprise left your lips when his hands run down your back to your ass, gripping them on his hand and giving it a squeeze. he had you mushy and whimpering.

he picks you up and places you on top of the table, he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips before he pecks your lips again and again, "seonghwa ... stop we're in public and we have to finish your photoshoot. hongjoong has to arrange-- ah~!"

you were cut off when he grips the fabric of your fish-net stockings and heard it rip. you look down to see around your underwear.

"hey ... i like this fish-net" you can see him rolling his eyes before he undo his belt, your eyes widen looking around the studio if any of the staffs came back.

"i gave them an hour and a half break..."

with a thud, his pants pool around his ankle and your legs were on each side of his waist and around on one of your ankles is your panty hanging, "why?" you ask, knowing fully well why.

he smirks, his other hand jerking his cock before leaning towards you. his tips nudging your clit a few times, you grind on him, mouth gape open in pleasure.

"oh .. so i could hear you scream for me and maybe .. take a couple pictures of you and me." with a wink, he thrust in one swift motion.

[queenshelby]

The Basement (Part One)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Dub-Con, CNC, Smut

It was a Thursday evening when you found yourself standing amidst the artfully crafted chaos of your new exhibition opening in Dublin. The scent of expensive cologne and the hum of excited chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses raised in celebration.

You had been working there for a year now and your heart raced, palpitating with the anticipation of meeting your favorite actor tonight who was said to appear at the event according to one of your acquaintances and fellow artists. 

As you surveyed the crowd, you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting him. It was a dream come true and you wanted to shake his hand, look into those icy blue eyes, and express how much his work meant to you ever since you began watching him in Peaky Blinders. 

But the crowd seemed to grow thicker, and you began to lose hope of getting close enough for a proper introduction.

That's when you saw him standing across the room, wearing a black suit. His slightly greying hair framed his face like a soft halo and those striking eyes were unmistakable, even from meters away. And then there was his smile, slightly crooked, as if to suggest a naughty secret just waiting to be told.

The moment your eyes met, he locked onto you, his gaze penetrating straight through to your soul.

He had obviously noticed you starring at him like some obsessive little girl, unable to take your eyes off his enticing form.

It was a strange feeling, being seen by him like that; it felt like he could see right through you, past every layer of facade you hid behind.

Taking up the courage to introduce yourself to him, you carefully made your way over to where he stood.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you offered hesitantly, holding out your hand in greeting. "I work here and I am a huge fan of your work," you quickly added, hoping to sound professional enough for the occasion but failing miserably in doing so.

Cillian took your hand gently, his touch sending goosebumps racing up your arm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said warmly, his voice deep and soothing. "I've heard great things about this place. It's truly inspiring work," he complimented, gesturing towards the stunning art pieces surrounding you both.

You blushed at the praise, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Are you one of the collaborators?" he then asked and you nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I do the photography," you answered shyly, pointing to a series of surreal landscapes adorning the walls nearby. Cillian's eyes widened with genuine interest upon seeing your work hung proudly beside the paintings of renowned artists.

A gentle smile crept across his lips as he studied each image intently before offering a genuine compliment. "Beautiful," he murmured softly, looking up at you with admiration in his eyes. "I can only imagine what inspired you to create such ethereal visuals."

Your cheeks turned a rosy pink, your nervousness intensifying under his praise. "Thank you," you stammered, struggling to muster the confidence to continue speaking so you took a big sip of your wine instead. 

Cillian smiled down at you encouragingly, watching you as you nervously toyed with the hem of your dress. "How long have you been working here?" he asked conversationally, moving closer to you.

"About a year now," you replied, taking another swig of your drink. The alcohol gave you a bit more courage to speak freely while he reached for another glass of wine from the waiter walking by and handing it to you. 

"And do you enjoy it?" he then questioned, turning back to you with curious gleam in his eye.

"Working here? Well, sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming, but yes, I do," you admitted truthfully, shrugging sheepishly.

"It looks like a lot of hard work goes into it," he acknowledged, nodding appreciatively.

"It does but it is fun too. I get to meet a lot of interesting people, like you," you responded, smiling nervously.

Cillian chuckled quietly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, I don't think I am that interesting, but thank you," he said as he leaned in closer, his hushed voice.

"Well, I think you are and you are, uhm... well I really liked you in Peaky Blinders," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.  "Tommy has this kind of darkness about him and it is very attractive I think," you laughed self-consciously, suddenly realizing how much you had to drink.

Cillian's eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned knowingly. "Oh, so Thomas Shelby is attractive to you, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping low and seductive. "Well, I guess I should be flattered then, shouldn't I?"

"I didn't mean it that way!" you gasped, shaking your head suddenly. 

"No?" he drawled, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "What exactly did you mean, then?" Cillian wanted to know. 

Your cheeks reddened further as you glanced around, trying to hide your mortification. "I just meant that you portray Tommy so well that I find myself drawn to him," you muttered under your breath.

"Interesting," Cillian mused, studying you carefully. "So, does that mean that you feel drawn to me too?" Cillian teased playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, not at all!" you sputtered, laughing nervously. 

"No?" he asked mischievously.  "That's a shame," he teased, winking slyly. "Because I wouldn't have minded having someone like join me at my hotel room later tonight," he suggested nonchalantly, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

You gasped, stunned by his bold proposition. "What?" you spluttered, jerking back from him in shock. "Are you serious?"

Cillian smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Yes, although you would have to agree to sign an NDA before I take you there," he added, winking slyly. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed, processing his offer. It was like a dream come true and even though you had never slept with anyone before, you agreed to his proposal. 

The idea of spending the night with Cillian Murphy was irresistible, intoxicating even. You knew the risks involved, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than fulfilling the fantasy you had nurtured inside you all these years.

"Alright," you managed to whisper, swallowing hard as you watched Cillian finish up his drink.

"Good then lets get out of here," he whispered back, flashing you a wicked grin and, soon after that, you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, instantly sobering you up. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were going to a hotel room with Cillian Murphy. But as the reality sunk in, you started to feel anxious about losing your virginity to someone you didn't even know. 

When you arrived at the hotel room half an hour later, Cillian made you sign the NDA and, soon after you did, you found yourself pressed against the door, his hot breath fanning your neck and his hands already starting to explore your body.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he murmured reassuringly, kissing your neck tenderly as he sensed your nervousness. 

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered, sliding his hands beneath your shirt, caressing your skin. "Just say the word, and we can stop," he reassured you but you simply moaned softly, arching your back as his fingers touched the sensitive spot between your shoulder blades.

Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you couldn't deny the intense desire coursing through your veins. You wanted him, needed him.

"I don't want to stop," you whimpered, clutching at the fabric covering his chest.

Cillian smirked down at you, his eyes dark and glittering with lust.

"Good girl," he cooed, running his thumb along your jawline. "Now, tell me Y/N, will you let me do whatever I want with you tonight?"

You swallowed thickly, your pulse thrumming wildly in your throat. "Whatever you want, Cillian," you breathed, clinging tighter to his shoulders.

"Really?" he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline. 

You shivered, feeling a thrill of excitement course through you. "Yeah, whatever you want," you assured him, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair.

"Good," Cillian groaned as, with a devious grin, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and hungry for more. 

"Now I want you to undress for me," he commanded, his voice soft yet commanding. His eyes held a playful glint that belied the power they exuded.

Slowly, you slipped off your heels first, letting them fall silently to the floor. With every step you took back, you became spellbound by his gaze, entranced by the magnetism oozing from his presence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you untied the knot holding your dress together, allowing it to slip gracefully from your shoulders.

The thin fabric pooled around your feet, leaving you standing naked before Cillian. Your bare skin prickled with anticipation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

"Your panties too," Cillian purred, the edge of his mouth curling into a devilish smirk.

Eyes fixed on his mesmerizing gaze, you hesitated for a brief second before pulling away your panties. The feeling of utter vulnerability washed over you like a tidal wave, yet something within you embraced the sensation.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured approvingly, his eyes raking over your nude form hungrily. "Now, stand still for me."

You obeyed, standing stiffly as he circled around you like a predator assessing its prey.

Cillian traced his index finger along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured, his eyes traveling downwards to admire your curvy hips tapering into your waist. "So fucking gorgeous."

His words ignited a fire within you, and with each passing second, your nerves began to calm down. This was it. The culmination of everything you ever fantasized about.

Cillian stepped back to take off his shirt, revealing a lean torso.

The sight made your mouth go dry, and you almost forgot to breathe.

He moved closer, running his hand up along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

"Drop to your knees Y/N," he ordered, his voice low and gravelly. You hesitated for a moment, but his insistent gaze compelled you to follow his command.

Once on your knees, you looked up at him, his eyes burning with desire, his erection straining against his pants. You reached out, unbuttoning his jeans.

He groaned softly as you slipped the zipper down, freeing his cock from its confines. You gasped at the sight before you - thick, veiny, and throbbing with need.

"Look at me," Cillian demanded, placing his hands on your shoulders roughly. Your eyes lifted towards him, meeting his fiery gaze. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I want this. I want this a lot," you managed to utter, biting your lip nervously.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "Now, show me. Take my cock in to your mouth," he demanded and you hesitated for a moment, staring at the swollen tip of his cock. The urge to wrap your lips around it was overwhelming, but you also felt uneasy about the unknown territory you were treading.

Still, the prospect of pleasing Cillian thrilled you, and you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock.

Cillian groaned loudly, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with raw lust. "Take your time, taste me."

His request spurred you on, and you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips.

You sucked lightly, savoring the taste of him, your heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment.

"Suck me harder," Cillian growled, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he thrust deeper into your mouth.

You complied, applying more force, reveling in the sensation of his cock pulsing against your tongue. You felt empowered, desired, and utterly submissive. The combination was intoxicating.

Cillian continued to guide you, coaching you through every stroke, praising your efforts with guttural moans and sighs of pleasure.

"That's it, Y/N," he coaxed, threading his fingers through your hair. "Fuck, you're good with your mouth."

You struggled to catch your breath, your lungs heaving in the silence of the dimly lit room. Each word, each gesture, served to fuel the growing tension between you two.

You tasted Cillian's precum, tangy and salty, arousing you further.

Your inhibitions vanished, replaced by a raw hunger for his approval.

"You're doing great," Cillian murmured, his grip tightening on your hair. "I want you to take me deeper, okay?"

You eagerly bobbed your head, engulfing his length greedily. The heat building between you threatened to combust.

"God, you're amazing," Cillian groaned, bucking his hips.

"Open wide for me now, sweetheart," he instructed, gripping your hair tightly in his fist.

You followed his order, parting your lips and sucking harder.

As you deepthroated him, Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against your lips.

The smell of sweat combined with the faint smell of alcohol, created a unique scent that aroused you further.

"Ah, fuck," Cillian cried out, his hand tightening on your scalp.

"Keep going," he encouraged, his voice strained with effort.

You obliged, loving the taste of him.

Cillian's cock grew thicker in your mouth, his hardness becoming even more pronounced. You could sense his pleasure and it drove you wild.

"I will cum down your throat now and I want you to be a good girl and swallow it all," Cillian declared.

His voice had a stern authority that sent shivers down your spine.

Nervous excitement surged through you as you prepared for the inevitable.

"Okay," you managed to whisper, your heart drumming in your chest.

Cillian placed his hands on your cheekbones, his thumbs stroking your temples soothingly.

"Relax," he urged, his voice softer now. "Let it happen."

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists tight, readying yourself for the sensation.

Cillian's breathing became labored, and you could tell he was on the brink of release.

"Here it comes," he warned, his voice strained. "Swallow every drop baby."

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a final warning glance, Cillian exploded, filling your mouth with his seed. You gagged reflexively, but you remembered his warning. Swallowing hard, you forced the semen down your throat, tasting the bitterness of his essence.

Cillian sighed heavily, releasing your hair and caressing your head tenderly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You handled that beautifully."

You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, your senses reeling from the intense encounter. "Thanks," you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I tried my best."

Cillian smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You exceeded my expectations," he praised, cupping your chin before pulling you up to stand on your feet again. "Now it is time to see how tight you are," he announced, his voice husky with anticipation. "So why don't you climb on to the bed for me. I want to fuck you from behind so that I can watch my cock slide in and out of your pussy," Cillian murmured huskily, his gaze burning with lust.

You hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. You'd never done anything like this before and the fear of not being able to match Cillian's expectations loomed large. However, the thought of experiencing something you'd only dreamed about pushed you forward.

"Okay," you responded, climbing onto the king-sized bed. The mattress sank beneath your weight, enveloping you in a cloud of softness.

You turned around, facing the mirrored wall opposite the bed, watching yourself in the reflection. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on your skin, illuminating the flush of arousal creeping up your cheeks.

Cillian climbed onto the bed behind you, his movements confident and assertive. You watched him pull a condom from the bedside table drawer, expertly rolling it onto his erect cock before discarding the wrapper on the floor.

He then reached forward, assessing your wetness with a fingertip. You arched your back in response while Cillian gripped your hips firmly.

"I want you to stay like this," he instructed, positioning your legs apart. "Ready for me?" he asked as the anticipation built within you, your heart pounding with trepidation and excitement.

"Yes," you managed to squeak, biting your lip as you waited for him to enter you.

You could feel his heated breath on your neck, and the anticipation of his entry filled you with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Cillian positioned himself behind you, aligning his cock with your entrance. You braced yourself, anticipating the invasion of his massive member.

"I am going to stretch you open now, Y/N," Cillian murmured in your ear, his words vibrating against your skin as you felt his hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place.

Then, with a single swift motion, he thrust deeply into you, stretching you open, causing tears to spring to your eyes from the sudden intrusion. You suppressed a scream while pushing your face against the pillow while Cillian pumped into you. 

"You're so tight," he groaned, thrusting faster, deeper, relentlessly driving into you, his cock burrowing into your core, filling you completely.

It was painful but knowing who he was and that you were pleasing him somehow numbed the discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, sounding genuinely concerned, his voice cracking slightly.

"No," you lied unconvincingly, your voice quivering. "Not really."

"Good," he grunted, continuing his relentless assault on your body. "Because I'm enjoying this and I am going to make you mine," he declared, grabbing your hips more tightly, guiding your movement with his firm hands. You gasped as he slammed into you, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You fought the urge to cry out as he mercilessly fucked you, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

"Good girl. Keep taking my cock," Cillian groaned, his voice muffled. 

He grabbed your hips roughly, forcing you to arch back against him, and you moaned softly, unable to resist the pleasure he offered.

"So tight," he murmured, pumping into you harder.

"Can you feel my cock stretching you open?" Cillian murmured, his voice heavy with lust.

You winced, your muscles tensing, but nodded weakly, unwilling to break the spell that Cillian had woven around you.

"Good," he groaned, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into you with renewed vigor. "I want you to cum for me, Y/N."

His words jolted you, stirring a strange sensation within you. You'd never experienced anything quite like this before, overwhelmed by the mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

The fear of disappointing Cillian fueled your determination to satisfy him, despite the discomfort.

"Do you like that?" Cillian murmured, his voice deepening as he buried his cock inside you multiple times. "Feel my cock stretching you open."

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage like a frenzied beast. You moaned softly, struggling to contain the mounting desire raging within you.

"Yeah, that's right," Cillian growled, punctuating each thrust with a sharp yank of your hair.

"Scream for me, baby."

You whimpered, your cries echoing in the silent room. Every brutal thrust of his cock stretched you open, driving you toward the precipice of orgasm until, finally, you could not take anymore.

You screamed, your voice reverberating through the room as your orgasm washed over you, consuming you whole.

"Yes, that's it," Cillian murmured, his voice strained and desperate. "Come for me, Y/N."

You thrashed beneath him, writhing uncontrollably as he pummeled your depths, milking your release. Your screams echoed in the silence, as the sheer force of your orgasm shook you. You cried out, your voice raw and hoarse.

The pleasure consumed you, obliterating any lingering fears or doubts.

Cillian continued to pump into you, his cock relentless as it plundered your depths. You clawed at the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you surrendered to the exquisite torment until, suddenly, he withdrew and quickly removed the condom.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice strained yet commanding as he pumped his cock with his hand.

You complied, turning to face him, your chest heaving with exertion.

"Open your mouth," Cillian said, his voice low and gruff. You parted your lips obediently, exposing your moistened flesh beneath his scrutiny.

"I will cum inside your mouth again, so open wide," Cillian murmured, his words laden with intent.

With a practiced twist of his wrist, he aimed his pulsating shaft directly at your waiting mouth. The head of his cock swelled, eager to be welcomed inside.

"Good girl," he groaned. "Here it comes," Cillian jerked his hand, unleashing a stream of cum straight into your mouth. You gagged, choking on the warm liquid as it filled your mouth.

"Swallow it," he barked, his voice strained with lust. "Every last drop."

You coughed as the thick substance filled your mouth, and you wondered if you'd ever forget the flavor of Cillian's essence as you gulped it down.

Your heart thumped erratically in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a drug. As you lay on the rumpled sheets, the remnants of ecstasy and exhaustion pulsed through every fiber of your being.

"That was quite something," Cillian murmured, tracing light patterns on your arm with his fingertips. "But I must admit, I'm surprised by your eagerness to please me. I did not expect such obedience from anyone really."

You shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I must admit, I had my fair share of wet dreams about you so I really wanted to please you," you replied, hoping your answer sounded casual enough. "And it's not everyday you get to sleep with a famous actor."

Cillian chuckled softly, leaning in close to kiss your cheek. 

"Hmm, you know what I have been fantasizing about?" Cillian mused, brushing some hair away from your face and kissing your forehead lightly. "I've been fantasizing about keeping someone like you at my house for a few weeks. Someone who agrees to let me do whatever I want to her. Someone I can use every day for my pleasure," Cillian explained as he traced a gentle pattern on your arm with his fingertips, his eyes locked on yours. "Would that interest you?"

You hesitated, your heart fluttering at the idea. "Well, I don't know..." you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, I guess I'd consider it."

Cillian smiled mysteriously, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "Good," he said, his voice dropping low and seductive. "I get my assistant to send you a contract then. You can read it, see if you are okay with thee terms and then we can make arrangements," Cillian suggested, his tone hinting at an excited undercurrent.

You blinked, your mind racing with possibilities. The idea of spending a few weeks with Cillian, submitting to his desires, seemed both terrifying and thrilling. "Sure, I'd love to see the contract," you agreed meekly, secretly yearning for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

"Good," Cillian grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Although, you better think it though thoroughly, Y/N. It involves me doing things to you which you may not necessarily enjoy," Cillian said, his voice deep and resonant. "I won't ask for your consent or permission during every encounter. You will be in some pain and you will most defiantly be sore. And most importantly, you'll be in my house, with no contact with the outside world whatsoever during our arrangement," Cillian told you matter-of-factly, as he ran his fingers gently down your arm.

Tags: @ietss @thorins-queen-of-erebor @cilliansbabe @calmingmelody96 @lavender-haze-01 @febris-amatoria @cursedalchemist

[thef1diary]

Strawberry & Smoke | D. Ricciardo

Summary: The end of a social gathering with friends was the start of something new with Daniel.

Warnings: none, just fluff

Pairing: daniel x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k+

You don't remember how it ended up with just you two. The rest of the group left earlier, one by one, filtering out which happened to go unnoticed by you. All because you were so busy looking at him.

At Daniel.

Soft music was playing in the background, just loud enough for you two to dance to. You felt tipsy, but you were completely sober and so was he.

He made you laugh, as he always does. But this time, when you two slowly stopped laughing, the atmosphere of your apartment became apparent. The short pause, a silence, between the songs felt too heavy as you looked at each other.

Then the next song played, you didn't know the name of as it was from Daniel's playlist. You were close enough to each other that you could hear him slightly humming the tune of the song before the lyrics were sung by the artist.

In that moment, you knew you were drunk off his presence, a feeling you began loving. Just being around Daniel was so soothing and comforting. You enjoyed it, and by the look on his face, you knew he did too. That's why he stuck around, being the last person from the party that stayed.

You gravitated towards him, or him to you. Honestly you couldn't tell, because you were so mesmerized by his eyes. Even underneath the dim lights of your apartment, the brightness of his eyes could easily be seen. Your own eyes travelled down his face, taking advantage of being so close, noticing all the little details.

When you got to his lips, you saw how he quietly muttered the lyrics of the song playing in the background, but stopped as soon as he saw you watch him.

You felt one of his hands leave its spot from your waist, coming up to hold your cheek. Your hands remained where they were, resting on his shoulders.

That gravitational pull was back, and you still couldn't tell who stepped closer to the other first. Your eyes were back looking into his, and you were close enough to be able to count his lashes.

One, two, but before you could get to the third lash, your eyes closed as his lips were gently placed on yours.

Given how frequently you imagined his lips on yours, the fact that his lips were soft was not at all surprising. However, it must be said that the actual experience was far better than any of your expectations.

You slowly parted away, but your eyes were still closed. He rested his forehead against yours, not wanting to part away completely just yet.

Another song finished, repeating the same short beat of silence before the next song played. This time, the silence was relieving in a sense, a ghost of a smile making its way on your face. This was the first kiss you and him shared.

Every moment you spent together before this one right here, including the silence from the last song, was spent as friends. Now, you two had made an unspoken decision to cross that line of friendship.

He stepped away from you but both his hands were back on your hips, itching to pull you closer and repeat what you two just did. He looked at you, searched in your eyes for any negative reaction. But when he looked at you, all he saw was you fighting the smile growing on your face, and the blush rising to your cheeks.

His heartbeat would've calmed down in relief but it was still beating erratically because he did the one thing he always wanted to do.

"It's getting late" he spoke first, not acknowledging the kiss. You nodded, looking to the side where the clock is hung on the wall.

You'd been staring into his eyes so intently not long ago, but now you couldn't maintain simple eye contact. You stared at the clock for a few seconds too long, not even registering the time because of all the thoughts running through your mind.

It's a quarter past one a.m.

"I should probably leave." Daniel spoke, bringing your attention to him. You nodded again, finally forming words, "are you going to call me tomorrow?" You asked, wanting to know where you stand after this. He nodded immediately, "to talk about this." He gestured between you, realizing that there was barely any space as you two were still standing so close. Almost sharing the same breath, which was ironic because he stole yours not long ago.

"I would now but-" you started, "you don't know what to say?" He finished the sentence, more in a questioning tone than a statement. You nodded, smiling at how he knew you so well.

"For the record, I liked it a lot." He told you, and you decided to not let him go home without some sort of response from you. "I liked it a lot too." You could feel your cheeks heating up again when you saw him smile.

"I should go." He told you, "you already said that."

But neither of you made the effort to move away from each other. Your hand was now moving up into his hair, bringing his face just a little bit closer.

"I really want to kiss you again." He stated, wanting your approval to do so. "Just an innocent kiss." You told him.

He didn't respond, more like you didn't give him a moment to respond since this time you placed your lips on his.

His hand moved to your lower back for a spilt second before he tugged you closer. The movement made you let out a gasp, parting your lips just enough for him to introduce his tongue. You gladly let him deepen the kiss, moving one of your hands to the back of his neck while the other pulled on his hair.

Daniel could taste a hint of strawberries along with smoke. You happened to light up a cigarette earlier with some other friends, but the strawberry was a sweet surprise. He didn't mind it at all, in fact he was quite addicted to your distinct taste. You kissed him until you had given all your breath away. Something that you thought you'd be doing a lot more often after this night.

He had a smile on his face and you could feel yours, so big that it would hurt your cheeks if you smiled any longer.

"That wasn't innocent." You stated but he shrugged, "I never said it would be."

"I really want to stay, but I shouldn't." He told you, and you closed your eyes for a second too long because you thought about letting him stay. "I really want you to stay, but don't ask me because I won't be able to say no."

If the kiss was any indication of how pleasurable he can be, you would love to know what he'd do if he stayed. But he can't, not this fast. This was another unspoken agreement, taking whatever it is between you two now slowly. There's no need to rush into it no matter how deeply you want it.

After all, it is still necessary to have a proper conversation about it rather than letting your feelings take over.

"I won't ask." He finally moved his hands away from your body, though you could tell he was hesitant to do so.

"I'll call you tomorrow." Daniel said, his smile still on his face. "I'll be waiting."

He turned around, walking towards the door to your apartment. He only took two steps away when you called out to stop him, "wait."

Daniel looked at you, pausing mid step but not walking back to you. You took a moment, contemplating your choices.

"Fuck it. Stay." You told him. "Yeah?" He asked, taking one step toward you.

"Yes. Stay the night. Come here" you gestured for him to come closer and he didn't think twice.

This time, he picked you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist as he kissed you again. This kiss was far from innocent, just like everything else you'd be doing tonight.

Asking him to stay was the best decision.

[facioleeknow]

Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him. 

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern. 

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him. 

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

 “What do you mean sir?” 

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?” 

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature? 

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.” 

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.” 

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes. 

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left. 

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice. 

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you. 

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts. 

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.” 

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

[lucidlivi]

Messes and Marriage

Requested: @k-slla

Jensen/Dean Tags: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @hzllxhoundxx @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 (if you like to be added to my everything tag list please indicate by saying "please tag me in everything Jensen/Dean")

Warning: Mature Themes (shower sex) and Fluffy As Fuck

“Jensen please I’m sorry.” I squealed running around to the other side of the kitchen island.

“oh no sweetheart it’s on now!” Jensen laughed, holding a spoonful of cake batter.

Jensen and I were attempting to bake a cake for my parents that were supposed to be coming over later tonight, however we got a little off task.

I giggled looking at the cake batter that graced his nose and cheek.

"my hand slipped!" I laughed.

"oh yeah? and you just conveniently had cake batter on your hand?" he smirked getting closer.

"It was an accident." I said giving him my pouty lip.

"of course baby, and this will be too."

I closed my eyes as Jensen appeared in front of me, wiping the cake batter down my nose and on to my cheek. I cringed feeling the gooey substance on my skin. I opened my eyes to see Jensen wearing a wide grin.

"happy now?" I asked sticking my tongue out at him.

"I think I missed a spot." Jensen said swiping some over my lips.

I smiled as he leaned down capturing my lips with his in a kiss. He went to pull away but I grabbed the back of his neck pulling him closer.

It's been over three years now that we've been together, but I'll never get tired of the feeling of his lips on mine.

I pulled away licking the excess cake batter off my lips. I smirked seductively and took my finger, dipping it in the cake batter and wiping a line of it across his neck.

"oops." I whispered with a flirty look.

"guess you're going to have to get that off now huh?" Jensen growled lustfully.

I stood on my tip toes slowly licking the cake batter from his neck. Jensen let out a quiet moan as I left sweet kisses on where my tongue has just been.

He moved his head to the side, giving me better access. I took the opportunity to nip the skin of his neck, sucking it gently, but hard enough to leave a mark.

Jensen grabbed the back of my neck, bringing my lips off his neck. He crashed his lips back on to mine, kissing me passionately. I put my hands under his shirt, running them over his torso. Jensen picked me up setting me on the island without breaking the kiss.

As he did this, the bowl with the cake batter fell off and clattered to the ground, sending cake batter all over our kitchen floor.

"oops" Jensen laughed, causing me to laugh as well.

"we probably should clean that up." I whispered out of breath.

"yeah we probably should." Jensen said leaning his forehead against mine.

Jensen reconnected our lips in a slow lustful kiss.

"or it can wait." he whispered, raising his eyebrows.

"it can definitely wait." I panted.

Jensen picked me up throwing me over his shoulder. I shrieked as he ascended the staircase giving my butt a light smack. He brought me to our master bathroom, gently setting me down on the side of the tub. I watched him start the shower before stripping his shirt over his head.

I stared at him lovingly and lustfully. I still couldn't believe out of all the beautiful women in this world that he chose me.

I had worked on the show as a special effects artist, only getting to see him when there was an especially bloody scene.

I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when he started to come around, hanging out in the makeup trailer while we were working on his cast mates. I didn't think anything of it at first, not until Anna, another makeup artist, started to gossip about how Jensen was looking at me.

"you're crazy Anna, he could literally have anyone in the world, why would he waste his time with me?"

I was even more surprised when those ten little words left his lips.

"would you like to go on a date with me?"

Of course as my luck would have it, our first date was a little bit of a disaster. Our waiter spilled red wine all over my dress just minutes in to the meal, and embarrassing me in front of the handsome actor.

Jensen took me back to his place, offering me a shirt and some boxer shorts and we ordered takeout. I was thankful but still felt embarrassed, even though it wasn't my fault.

Jensen then brought out another bottle of red wine, as he was opening it he seemingly popped the cork "too harshly" spilling the wine on his nice dress shirt. I smiled as he started to laugh.

"guess we're both a mess."

He did it on purpose of course, trying to make me feel better. It was a disaster date at first, but I knew from that moment on what we had was something special. I cautiously agreed to be his girlfriend shortly after our first date, believing all of this too good to be true.

I remember the first time we stepped out as a couple, of course it came with scrutiny from other people who didn't know anything. I remember wanting to pull out of the relationship at one point, not being able to deal with the gossip, or the people suddenly very interested in every move I made.

I couldn't do it though.

Every time we were alone, it reminded me of why I agreed to be his in the first place. When we were alone he wasn't Jensen Ackles the famous actor from Supernatural, he was just Jensen, the guy who purposely spilled wine on himself so I wouldn't be embarrassed.

I fell in love with him the way you fall asleep, slowly and then all at once. But when it hit me, it hit me like a freight train, and I knew from that moment on, I couldn't live without him, nor would I want to.

"what's going on in that head of yours angel?" Jensen asked, squatting down so he was eye level with me.

"just how much I love you." I smiled, watching his eyes light up.

"I love you too sweetheart." he quickly responded.

Jensen offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet.

"let's get cleaned up sweetheart." he smirked, grabbing the bottom of my shirt slowly pulling it over my head.

He brought his lips down slowly kissing me. He took the time to slowly undo the tie on my shorts before sliding them over my butt and down my legs.

I stuck my hands in the waist band of his sweats tugging them down his legs. Jensen brought his hands behind my back, unclasping my bra with ease. I moaned as his lips parted from mine, traveling south towards my now bare chest.

"I swear you get more beautiful everyday." Jensen whispered

I gasped as his fingers tugged at my panties, before running over the spot where I needed him the most.

"how did I get so lucky?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

Jensen inserted two of his fingers, gently thrusting them in and out. I moaned and grabbed his length through his boxers, gently stroking him.

"I'm the lucky one J." I whispered sinking to my knees. causing his hands to fall away from me.

Jensen groaned in pleasure as I slid his boxers down, running my hand up and down his long length. I parted my lips, slowly taking him in my mouth.

I took more of him in, causing him to throw his head back, a loud moan escaping his lips. He gently put a hand in my hair as I worked him with my mouth. I could feel his legs start to shake, signifying he was close to his release.

He pulled away from my lips before that could happen, helping me back to my feet. Jensen pulled me in to the steady stream of water, allowing it to coat both of our bodies.

"I need you J." I whined.

Jensen put his lips back on mine in a rough, hungry kiss. He picked me up, pinning me to the shower wall with his large body.

I moaned as he slipped inside, the steady stream of water mixed with our arousal allowing him to do so with ease. He thrusted quickly, causing a string of moans and curse words to leave my swollen lips. I sank my hips down meeting his thrusts as best I could.

"I love you Jensen." I panted, feeling the knot in my stomach start to unravel.

"not as much as I love you (y/n)" Jensen groaned.

A few more thrusts had us both spilling our arousal. Jensen kissed me tenderly before setting me back on my feet. I laughed as he still sported cake batter on his face. I'm sure I did too. Jensen took his hand gently wiping it away from my cheek and nose.

"guess we're both a mess." I whispered, quoting the very words he'd said on our first date.

I could see the smile grow on his face in recognition.

"I kind of like making messes with you though." I added with a laugh.

"I could make messes with you forever." Jensen said kissing my now clean nose.

I took my hand, wiping the batter from his face now.

"forever huh, that's a lot of messes." I giggled.

"I mean it (y/n), I want to make messes with you for the rest of my life." Jensen said, staring deeply in to my eyes.

I could feel my pulse quicken at his confession. Was he saying what I think he was saying?

"Jensen, are you saying..." I started but he quickly cut me off.

"Marry Me."

I could feel the tears well up in my eyes as I stared at the man I love. I was lucky enough to get this feeling, and now I get it forever. I didn't realize I had just been staring until he spoke up again.

"say something please baby." Jensen pleaded.

"are you kidding of course I want to marry you." I said bringing him down for a passionate kiss.

"I actually was going to ask your dads permission tonight, but I can't wait any longer, I want you, all the time, for the rest of my life." Jensen said kissing all over my face causing me to giggle.

"I want you all the time, for the rest of my life." I said smiling.

"I guess we have a lot more messes to make." Jensen smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"and a lot of messes to clean up." I laughed thinking of the cake batter still all over our kitchen floor.

"our life, messes and marriage." Jensen laughed.

"to messes and marriage."

Author Note:

I hope I did your idea justice @k-slla! I appreciate all the love and support you give me and continue to give me, as well as everyone else who constantly reads and interacts with my pieces! If you like this one, please leave a heart, comment, reblog or follow! I appreciate it! Also for the others that have put in a request, fear not I am getting to them slowly but surely!

xoxo

Liv

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

how to not let your autistic inner child win (or how to write an if) by the secretary

[id: a student with glasses being pointed at and mocked by two students on screens, and two more offscreen with only their arms showing. the central bullied student looks sad, and everyone else is laughing. end id]

Ruhoh, is this another secretary essay? Well, yes it is! The gender politics one will eventually come around when I feel like it, but this one, as the title suggest, is about how to write an IF. And since I'm presuming most of you are on the spectrum (or on a spectrum), it gets a little tongue-in-cheek.

hehe

Anyways, if you have autism, you have eternal swag. It's just true! But having so much swag makes it a problem when writing, or doing any sort of project. This is something I've noticed from people who don't have evil autism. Those not afflicted by the rare autism version of evil autism (my autism) will often be really bad at just... doing things - despite having all the abilities to do so! I think it might be a adhd thing or something too. Anyways, I love helping people, (this is my evil autism), and I'd like to share some girl tips on how to kill your inner child :)

I think something I've noticed from people making any sort goals- online, real life, job, working, etc - is it is straight forward. ie: I want to graduate from high school, I want to make a video game, I want to journal everyday. These are all achievable using your abilities that you learn and gain through your life, and failure doesn't exempt you from trying again. Thing is, this specific thing I just described (straightforward goals) is something I think a lot of autistic people struggle with.

I deeply remember sitting down in the corner of my high school, looking like the hottest girl who played pokemon on her ds when someone who had +1% more autism than me told me that, one day, he was going to make the most cool pokemon game ever where you could date other characters and have babies and have your children go on adventure too. As a 14 year old, I thought to myself 'bitch, shut up' but also, 'this is so unrealistic, but he really believes it, uh'. And he did! And you know, I think that's okay. I think it's okay to believe that you can make things that you cannot do at the moment - I mean that's just how life it. We didn't go on the Moon thinking we couldn't

But... the guy didnt know how to code, or how to make games, or how to program, or how to develop stories, or how to make art, etc etc etc. He didn't know these things, but he wanted to make these things. And I see this to a certain degree quite a bit when it comes to creation. I want to say: it's a very important of the process but simply one part.

I think being able to imagine what you could do if you have all the resources in the world, all the time, and all the help is important - but it is even more important to look within and go 'alright with all this in mind - what can I do?'

And if you're in the field of IF, well, what can you do? Coding, storytelling, character design, plotting arcs, etc. I think the skills can be learned by anybody (sidenote incoming)

If anybody ever fucking says that art is innate, they're fucking lying. It's a skill you grind out. You work it out. You work even if you feel not creative. You write words even if they don't come to you naturally. You draw even if the images can't be conjured. You work you work you work and you make something. You cannot always make art when feeling creative because you aren't always creative. you must be willing to die for your art, yes, but you must also be willing to create without any creative sparks! If you want to be an artist, you better work bitch.

(sidenote ending) and with that in mind, you need to develop restraints onto yourself. In IF, it's actually to create restraints, and here are some I suggest for all of my fellow autists who might struggle with them. I love you guys, truly, anyways. here they are:

restrain characters.

Make three characters + a main character. Write a couple of scenes with them. Is that your maximum? Is that too much? Go up and down until you find the right amount. You can add more character when your writing is better. Stick to a minimum per scene. If you have ideas for 30 characters, you can easily melt them into 10. Seriously. Put the heat on maximum and start creating new fun dolls to play with.

2. restrain scenes

You cannot write 500 per interaction. This is a bad idea because a) you might do the thing where you run out of creativity which you need to learn to do without but it is hard and b) interactions are time limited and time sensitive. not everybody will go through them. if you have a 30k update, but most people will only see 1k... are you really writing a game for them or for yourself? I made my wife do this format:

youll gain the ability to gauge if a scene is important or not eventually, I'm sure.

3. restrain area

I recommend writing like a murder novelist. You have a closed circle, and the player cannot leave it. they can only be within that space. That space that exists within that specific story is the only thing they have access to. it can be a school, a city, a bedroom - but its limited. you create setpieces that players interact with. some set pieces are the same with just a different coat of paint on.

anyways, i believe in dreaming big, but i also believe that we have little time on our hands to create. when wanting to make something, restraint yourself. its always way more fun to find ways to break out of our bonds then just roaming free, right? I mean... maybe not. I'm not your mother, you know.

[askinkiskarma]

・❥・ Moth To A Flame

Pairings: Neteyam x Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: you have an amazing, patient, caring boyfriend, but you still can't help being drawn to Neteyam like a moth to a flame

warnings: smut (p in v, fingering, creampie, soft!dom neteyam, marking), mentions of blood, cheating, strong language, minors do not interact 🔞

wc: 1.3k words

a/n: a little gift for @mightyneteyam x hope you enjoy, bestie!! Inspired by Moth To A Flame by the Weeknd. This made me feel all sorts of things, i wish i could share with the class but i'd probably get banned from tumblr

ps: i also think 'you right' by doja cat works so well with this oml

'Cause he seems like he's good for you

And he makes you feel like you should

But does he know you call me when he sleeps? 

But does he know the pictures that you keep?

You don't know how this happened. You can't even remember how it started. The only thing you know is that, while hugging your incredibly patient, caring, beautiful boyfriend, you somehow once again found yourself eyeing Neteyam from across the room, once again getting lost in his predatory gaze and unruly smirk, that was reserved for you, once again giving him the small head signal that told him to meet you later, in your secret spot, that you frequented way too often, that you desperately wanted to be in right now, instead of here, at this celebration, where the music was too loud, and the people were too chatty, and your promised-mate was too sweet.

It ate at you - the guilt, each day and night. Enough to not do it as often as you probably wanted to, but not enough to stop. You knew it was wrong. You were promised to someone else. And he was the best person you've ever met, and he treated you so well, and he loved you and cherished you, and you loved him. You wanted him, but you needed Neteyam. Whereas your mate gave you stability and comfort, your quixotic affair with Neteyam gave you life, gave you thrill, gave you excitement, and you couldn't imagine ever being without it.

"I feel like you want to get caught, yawne." he says with a smirk as he rips off the top covering your breasts, as he immediately dives in and captures one of your hardened nipples in his mouth and sucks, until it hurts, until it bruises, until you moan. You shake your head weakly, mewling softly as two of his long digits slip past your folds, getting coated in your juices, as his thumb teases your clit, and all of a sudden he's a painter and an artist, and you're his muse and his canvas all in one, and you knew you would become a masterpiece by the time he was done, by the time you were done. This man knew you, every dark, twisted facet of your being, and he used it to his advantage, and you could never complain, because he used his advantage to yours, because at the end of the day, you were his muse and he was your creator, and you'd follow him into the pits of hell as long as he never stopped painting you.

His lips travelled from your breasts up your body, leaving a trail of spit in their warm, illusive wake, until they reached your neck, where he sank his teeth, where he marked you, and you couldn't find it in you to resist and protest, not when the rush of adrenaline travelled from the puncture wound all throughout your body, until it reached your core, until it sharpened and amplified the pleasure that was building in as his fingers slipped in and out of you with ease and grace, and you came, moaning loudly in his mouth as his tongue coated your own with a heady mix of blood and spit.

"Yes, you do, yawne. My scent is on you. In you. You let me mark you in bites and bruises, you let me come in you. You want him to find out, don't you? Want him to leave on his own so you don't have to do the hard work, huh?"

You shook your head again, fastening your legs around him as he raised you by your ass, your back against a tree, his length prodding at your sopping entrance almost playfully, teasing you with the promise of another mind-blowing orgasm. He reached down in order to align himself properly, and when he pushed in, you squealed, his tip enough to make you lose any insipid fragment of self-restraint, or of critical thought, or of thoughts of what or who you left behind at the party. Your hands find his shoulders in an attempt to gain some leverage, some control over the way you knew he would claim you, he would use you, but when that proved futile, your hands moved to his neck, bringing him closer to you, until you met in a sloppy, messy kiss, abound in flickering tongues and blood from sinking teeth finding pink lips, and the nature chirped in whistling tones and high-flown melodies, singing for you, or to hide you - either way, a welcome distraction.

When he bottoms out, you cry, and he kisses your tears away, and for a second, it doesn't feel wrong anymore, but feels like twin flame souls coming back together, where they planned on being for eternity, until the end of time. His pace is rough and calculated, each stroke brushing the spongy part of your walls that made you see glimmering stars, and you knew what you came here for was once more within your reach, so close you could taste it, just like you could taste him, his blood and your own amalgamated together on your lips.

“Just say you want me back. Just finally admit it and I’ll let you come on my cock next, how’s that sound?”

It was tempting, the confession that was barely contained within your soul, that you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs most days, that you bit back with a groan now, because you were happy with a better man... you should be happy with another man. But this man, this glorious, nefarious, beautiful man took all the available space in your mind, even now, after all this time, and you wanted him, and wanted to keep him. In moments like this, it didn't feel absurd or unattainable anymore - it felt real.

“Do you think he knows? Even subconsciously, do you think he knows deep down what a little slut you are? How much you ache for me, how much you like to get fucked until your knees shake and your mind quiets? How you give into me, how your back arches and your mouth falls open as I fill you with my cum? Do you think he understands to some level that no matter what you say, no matter what he thinks, you’ll always belong to me, and only me?”

The words were harsh and cruel to some, exciting and titilating to you, and so, so true. Your resolve was weakening with every thrust, with every vibration of his voice that you felt in every cell of your body, until it was depleted, in the same way you needed to be.

“Say it, sweet girl. Say it and I’ll let you come on my cock.”

“I’m yours. All yours.”

“That’s right. That’s a good girl. Come for me, baby. Let me hear your pretty moans, so I can fill you up.”

You do as you're told, and the masterpiece is final when the explosion of colours, intense and luminous, splatters on the canvas, when the cries and shakes turn into music put to paper, when your arching back is just the final ensemble of a sculpture carved in marble. You both pant as your legs fall limp around him, but he doesn't let go, keeping you close, his head in your chest, breathing you in, helping you off your high.

"I want you back. We're inevitable, you and me. Please, just take me back."

Your mind, now clear and finally able to rationalise, is torn between what you knew was good for you and who you saw at night, every time you closed your eyes. You wondered if you would ever be able to choose.

Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies, right here with me, babe

Where it truly lies, my bed, babe

Where it truly lies, in my arms, babe

Where it truly lies

taglist: @fanboyluvr

[iwhyzumiihajimee]

chefs kiss [ hq imagine ]

pairing: Miya Osamu x fem.reader

content: after outing, Osamu takes you to his home to cook and bake for you as promised. You struggle with self worth and you both open up to one another in the process.

genre: fluff/angst imagine, timeskip! au

word count: 2.9k

author's note: tbh this was originally written for iwaizumi, but i thought it would fit osamu character as well.

credit towards original artist (art work below)

Osamu opens up the front door with a smile, letting you go ahead of him. Once inside, the house has some things laid out for cooking that he talked about earlier. You notice a couple of pictures on the wall of him playing volleyball with his old High School team, so you can tell that it was an important and precious phase in his life.

“I was going to make a cake, but I think I can do something a bit simpler, as long as I can spend time with you. What do you think?”

Observing his place he brought you back to reality, and you responded with a nod "Mhm... I'd like that.

He smiles. “Then come on, let’s get to it. I’ll even make you lunch after.” He gestures for you to follow him and he leads you into the kitchen. He starts getting out some ingredients and putting some things together in bowls. “I’ve done this lots of times, so I can do it pretty fast now.” He smiles, he knows that he is very good when it comes to things in the kitchen. His hands are quick and sure as he moves around a lot.

"Was cooking and baking something you started as a hobby very early?"

He chuckles. “It's almost definitely my favorite thing to do. It's fun to be creative and see what I can come up with, even with simple dishes, like the one I'm making right now, I try to put some personal touches to it. Plus, it's fun to share it with other people. Cooking is awesome, I can't imagine my life without it now. But, it also helps that I'm lucky enough to be very good at it, so I'm glad I found this passion in my life.”

You admired his response. Because you were nowhere great or had the passion of cooking and baking. As long as you knew the basics and got something edible to eat on a plate then, it was all good. "Well seeing in the kitchen makes you very attractive." You said as you kept watching him.

He laughs and shrugs. “I don't know how to respond to that. But I'm glad you think so.” He smiles as he continues prepping everything. He seems quite confident in his cooking and baking abilities, and he seems pretty focused. He seems to really be enjoying himself, the cooking process is very relaxing for him. After a couple more minutes, he has everything ready that he needs and he starts mixing it all together.

"Need help?" You couldn't help, but asked. Him moving around so much made you anxious and just chilling across from him waiting patiently was not your thing. You're more hands on and want to make sure both of you are entertained.

“Sure, you can help me, I can tell you're interested in it too. Do you know your way around the kitchen? It's not actually too hard, I think you can do this.” He smiles at you and hands you something to mix together in a bowl. He seems more focused on you than he does on the cooking process, like he wants to include you as much as possible.

"Tell me what to do, chef"

“Just mix it together with both hands for about 5 minutes. I can teach you other things too if you want.” He leans in closer to you, watching your hands carefully as you mix the ingredients together. So far you guys have been getting along very well, and he loves that you seem to be learning this new skill fairly easily. It seems to be making him extra attracted to you, if that’s possible.

"Yes chef!" You say following his directions

A few minutes pass by and he checks the mixture. “Okay, keep going for a couple more minutes, I think it just needs to mix together a bit more. I can show you other recipes later too, but this is a really simple one.” He smiles at you and it seems to make him extra happy that you’re willing to learn more.

Finishing up being his assistant, you come back to you seat across from him. He comes over and gives you a quick kiss before finishing up his dinner preparations. “Alright all, it’s almost done. We just need some time to let everything come together, but I think we have enough time for you to see the end product.” He looks very happy with the way the dish turned out, there’s definitely a sense of pride in how it turned out. He then brings out the dish we made and it looks great.

He has it set at the table and he pulls you in for a kiss before starting to sit down and eat. “I really love cooking for you. You make me so happy. I feel really great when I’m with you, and just being able to make something special like this makes it all even better. I’m glad you really seem to like this dish too!”

Osamu watches you take your first bite, and you savor the taste. Tasting each flavor as it melts in your tongue.

"Woah~ this tastes amazing!"

He smiles and gives you another kiss. “I’m really glad you like it. My dad taught me this recipe, and it’s one of my favorites, and now you are my favorite person to cook it with.” He laughs softly, it seems like he really enjoys your company as much as he enjoys the cooking process.

"Aww appreciate that~ Now your kiss gives it extra flavor..." You joked.

He laughs at your joke, he’s very proud of this meal and your compliments only make him feel better about it. He can’t help but kiss you again, he just feels so happy with you. After finishing your plate, he grabs some ingredients out of the cabinet to get ready to make a dessert. “Let’s make dessert next, we gotta get something after this incredible meal. I’ve got a pretty easy recipe for that too, you think you’d like to help me?” He looks at you expectantly.

"Uhmm... The only thing I can think that's easy are cookies, but whatever you feel is good. I like watching you~" You intertwine your fingers and prompt them up for your chin to rest on as you smiled sweetly at him.

He chuckles. “Cookies are always a good option, but I’ve got a recipe for a chocolate cake that isn’t too difficult. I think I can explain it to you too so you can make it for me too sometimes later,” he says as he gets out the ingredients for the cake, his eyes are always on you even when he’s focused on the cake preparation.

He starts mixing everything together in a bowl. “This is really easy, I’ll tell you the ingredients you need to add and when. I’ll give you the easy job,” he says with a laugh, as it really doesn’t take much effort to mix the ingredients together in a bowl, but he’s still careful to not take the process too lightly either. He’s definitely putting a lot of himself into this cake, he wants it to turn out perfectly. It’s kind of like he wants your relationship to turn out perfectly too.

As you listen to his instructions and the way he explains everything in each detail. You understand his metaphor and you melt.

After some time the cake was already out of the oven and cooled down. He adds frosting and gives you a taste. You licked his finger subconsciously and the frosting tasted yummy "Mhmm!~" You hummed in happiness.

His eyes widened for a quick second when you licked his finger, there was definitely a small reaction. He looks at his finger and chuckles awkwardly for a second, but quickly he smiles again and keeps putting on the frosting. “I’m glad you like it. This was one of the first desserts I learned how to make all by myself. It’s one of my favorites because of that.” He’s very proud of this cake and the result. You can tell it means a lot to him.

He continues to frost up the cake and every once in a while he brings up his frosted up finger for you to taste.

He blushes as you lick his finger. It’s kind of cute how excited you are when you’re licking the frosting. He seems kind of turned on by it too. He continues to cover the cake in frosting, slowly icing the rest of it up with it. You patiently wait smiling, then sighed watching him.

He smiles as he watches you. Even though he is putting the frosting on the cake, his eyes are still on you. You can tell that he just really likes being around you. Once the cake is covered in frosting, he finally finishes the cake and sets it on a cake plate. He takes a deep breath and looks at it for a moment, making a mental note of the cake and how well it turned out. He starts to cut the cake and he makes sure to give you the first piece.

"Ehhh?~ It's soo goood!~" You faked cried as you took the first bite, then you take another piece and give him a taste as you two shared the piece.

He takes a bite of it too, and he seems even more impressed than before as his eyes light up while he takes a bite. “Oh man, this is really good, it turned out perfectly. I can’t wait to make more stuff like this with you around!” He smiles and leans in and kisses you on the cheek. He’s still so happy with the cake and he’s glad that you think it’s good too.

You continued to feed him pieces of the cake slice he gave you, and you enjoyed it as well. He then notices you had frosting on the side of your lips and he wipes it with his thumb and brings it over to his lips. He tastes it with a playful smile.

“Mmm, that’s really tasty frosting, it tastes even better on you though,” he says with a little laugh as he leans in and gives you another kiss. Your eyes widen and you blush away.

He’s still licking his lips after tasting your frosting. He looks straight into your eyes when he sees that you’re blushing. “You’re so cute when you’re blushing.” He leans in and whispers into your ear. “You taste good too.” He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before smiling and cutting another slice of cake for himself.

As he did this, you suddenly got shy and quiet as you continue to eat.

He continues eating as well for a few minutes before he looks over at you. “Why so quiet?” He seems really happy with himself and the way this night is going.

"Ehm, you make me a little nervous, that's all."

He chuckles. “Sorry. It's nice being a little nervous every once and a while. The excitement can be fun too. Does it really make you that nervous?” He seems to be taking it as a little bit of a compliment.

"You attract me..." You glance to his eyes quickly and quietly say.

He looks surprised for a second and he smiles. “Wow, well thank you. I think I can say the same about you too though, you’re very attractive.” He seems to like the fact that you find him attractive and he’s taking it as a compliment. After taking a few more bites, he looks over at you and he can’t help but find you just as attractive as before. “You’re even more beautiful looking at you now.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you again.

He kisses you as he still had a piece of cake in his mouth which ended up in yours. He releases from the kiss and you then swallow the piece of cake he transferred to you.

He pulls away from the kiss and smiles. “You’re even better if there’s cake in your mouth. I could kiss you all night like this if I could,” He leans in to kiss you one more time, still impressed by all the flavor you give off. “I can’t get enough of you though,” He seems very sincere about this.

You shyly look away with your flustered face. He seems to love how shy you get, it’s really attractive to him. He leans into the kiss even more, and his hands move towards your hips while he does so. He takes his time with the kiss and you can feel that he really wants you. He seems to really like this side of you that comes out when you’re shy. He leans away with a smile on his face, he really enjoys taking his time with this kiss. “You’re super sexy when you’re like this.”

He pulls you up to the counter where you sit and he holds you between his arms at your waist. This surprised you, and you responded with an uhmm...

He smiles and kisses your cheek before saying “You’re very sexy when you’re like this, and I really want you in these moments. Is getting lifted up the part that makes you nervous?” He leans into you, his arms holding you close as he gives you his full undivided attention.

"A little... Your whole presence gets me nervous. You're too good for me..."

He seems a bit taken aback at this. He looks at you with eyes full of surprise. “I think the opposite. I don’t think I deserve you. You’re so beautiful, and it’s unbelievable how lucky I am to have gotten you in my life. I could not ask for someone more perfect to love.” He smiles and kisses you again in hopes of conveying his feelings. He genuinely thinks that he is not worth you, you are out of his league.

Shocked by his response- "Me? YOU'RE wayy out of my league... You were an amazing athlete, you can cook, your place is spotless, you're caring, loving, good looking... What is it you don't have? You have everything figured out and settled. I'm nothing compared to you."

It takes him a second to respond to what you’re saying, but eventually he leans in again to kiss you so as not to interrupt you. “That’s not true at all though. Being an athlete doesn’t make me better than you. If you saw the practice I put in to get to where I am now, what most people don’t see, you’d see how imperfect I am, just like you’re saying. But with you by my side, I’ve finally felt complete. I’m missing one piece, and that’s you.”

You held his shirt as you tucked your head leaned into his chest, having the sense of hiding. Every emotion hits you as you recall your past and the hardships you went through.

"You're dedicated, well mannered... Everything a girl wants... I'm not-"

He takes your hands in his, his eyes wide as he looks directly into yours. “No, you absolutely are. You are just as dedicated as me and you’re kind and selfless. You’re everything I could ask for and I truly mean that. I don’t see why you think so lowly of yourself, you’re amazing. I can’t ask for anything more than you.”

You let a tear drop as you tried so hard holding them.

He wipes those tears away and wraps you up in a hug, comforting you. “Hey, hey everything’s ok. I don’t ever want you to doubt how amazing you really are. Don’t cry, I know that you’re more than enough for me. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, just being your boyfriend is the most satisfying thing I can ask for. Please don’t doubt yourself, I won’t stand for it.” He wraps you even closer, trying to cheer you up.

Letting out a breath to calm yourself down, "Sorry... It's been a while since I heard anyone appreciate me..."

He seems genuinely surprised at this again. He was not expecting you to say that. He takes a quick breath and leans in close to you. “You don’t hear that enough? I know that a lot of people talk down to you or don’t think much of you, but that is the one thing I can’t handle. You are too amazing to not have those close to you recognize that.” He seems genuinely upset about the fact that you don’t have people that appreciate you. You’re just too precious for anyone to think that.

He hugs you back, tightly now as you cry. “Hey hey no need to cry. I don’t know what you’re dealing with exactly, but there is no need to cry because all of that is behind now. Look, I promise that I’m here for you and I’ll always do what I can to make sure it’s all behind us. Ok? Are you feeling better now?” He seems to mean it as he talks, he really wants to comfort you and make sure you’re ok.

You nod and slowly pull away, "I'm okay, just needed this... Gosh I ruined the moment."

“Nah you didn’t ruin anything. I love being there for you whenever you need me. All I want is to be able to put a smile on your face and make you feel happy. You didn’t ruin anything at all.” He seems to mean every word as he looks at you.

[lifeonthemurdersim]

"Who kisses the other awake in the morning?"

"Neither. You wake up and he's staring at you."

Oh my god... Could you profundize this? I can't stop reading this, it's so... I am enthrilled. So, so enthrilled.

Thank you so much for this ask! To clarify for those reading, I gave the above answer when answering ship questions for Lawrence x Violet/Reader.

I started explaining further but then I recalled this was actually one of my unused ideas for my GoreKinktober series so I decided to revisit it as a short piece! I hope this gives the elaboration you were looking for! 😊

My Ecosystem Fandom/Universe: Boyfriend To Death Characters/Pairing: Lawrence Oleander x Reader (his POV) AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 1,203 words Synopsis: You're used to waking up to Lawrence watching you by now. What you're not so aware of, is why. Author's Note: This prompt is for the 24th but I'm posting on the 1st of November. More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Somnophilia Goretober prompt used: N/A

Lawrence still isn't used to being this close to a living, breathing human for such a prolonged amount of time. It's a heady mix of overwhelming, being that there's just so much of you to take in, and so, so fascinating. A whole little ecosystem, in his bed, in his arms, that he wakes up to every evening.

He can see the vast expanse of beautiful skin cocooning you, enshrouding all those intriguing little organs; all buzzing away carrying out their functions as they're supposed to. Whatever encounter you once had with the river, it was obviously brief enough to leave you wonderfully untouched. You're not rotting like him, you're fresh, you're perfect.

Imagine if all that's inside of there was visible on the outside. It might not last for very long, but for that brief moment, where everything was still ticking but the whole of you was inside out, it would be glorious. He knew you better than anyone else he had ever encountered, so you wouldn't be another art piece discarded in a random stack nor hung clinically in an empty hall. He had passion for you, he loved you, if Lawrence made you art, you would be his masterpiece.

Although he supposed some part of him would like to see the inner workings of your mind, he'd have a little more time to see you functioning if he left your brain untouched. Actually, he thinks he would leave your face intact, too. He likes it exactly as it is, the shape, the features, especially soft when you're sleeping. Even a master artist couldn't improve upon it. Yes, he'd likely leave your entire head be, it's simply too pretty.

The rest though, he'd deconstruct with searing crimson lines, the first hint of the internal you emerging to the external. It would leave him in need of more. You'd need to be opened up all the way so you could be appreciated in every sense. He would slice deeper into your limbs, folding the muscle and sinew open neatly so see more of you, a larger surface area, but also the things that hadn't been seen before.

Then his focus would be your torso, he'd have to cut slowly so each organ was revealed bit by bit, he needed to savour every inch of you, every second of unwrapping you. The excessive length of your intestines would snake around your waist, forming elegant arcs swinging back and forth behind you like wings of an angel.

The liver has a nice texture when you cut into it, soft but with a little pushback. He could carve out slivers and hold them; they'd be like little brown slugs but ones that could never hurt his plants. He could rest them on your slumped shoulders like art. He could carve a firm L into it, a jagged O. His art needs a signature somewhere. The liver almost re-forms around the letters though. Maybe he would have to carve his initials into a few places on you, just to be sure.

The veins and arteries, though, he'd keep attached to your heart, only cutting where he had to. He'd arrange them like spokes, like a sunburst coming out from your chest, measuring the intervals carefully. If he presses a thumb to your wrist, he can feel them, throbbing gently with every beat of your heart. He brushes his hand up your arm slowly, gently, grazing your shoulder.

You shift slightly. Lawrence freezes up. But you don't stir, so he presses a hand to your chest. There it is. Pulsing under your shell. Imagine if those ribs could be cracked open, releasing the softly trilling little bird from its cage. How much firmer and louder would that beat be without those confines alone?

Better still, what if he could reach out and wrap his hand around it, really feel it? Would it be the slow steady beat it sits at while you dream away, or would the actions taken to lead him there render it to a dizzying pace? Would it become too much, too overwhelming? Would he have to squeeze it hard to get it to stop?

Or...

Would it already have fallen silent before he even got that far?

Never to be heard again.

Not just your heartbeat, either. Your soft assurances when he was spiralling. The pitter-patter of your footsteps as you tended to his plants. Your soft moans and whimpers when he was pleasuring you. The charming little rhythm of your laugh. Your loving words. Your voice in general.

Yes, at times just having another person around him was a lot for Lawrence. But having to live without this one specific person he'd become so attached to would be downright unbearable.

The silence would be overwhelming.

You were the only one who'd seen the river, the only one who really understood. This world wasn't real, but he was forced to exist in it until he allowed his body to decay entirely. But having you around made it bearable. More than bearable.

Good.

He absolutely wanted to do it. He wanted you to be his work of art, his best work. But there was too much to risk, so he couldn't. He wouldn't. But sometimes, he really really wants to. He leans a little closer to you, hoping that will stave off the urge, only for your eyes to blink open. You both jump a little. The thumping of your heart under his hand quickens.

"L-Lawrence!" you stutter out, then exhale to try to calm, he feels it in your chest. "I... never get used to you doing that..."

"Oh..." he replies. "...sorry?" He's not sure if he is sorry, but it feels like maybe he's worried you, so he's supposed to say it.

"It's... OK I guess..." you tell him, softening into the hand at your chest a little. You raise both brows at him. "Did watching me sleep... turn you on?" you ask, looking him up and down.

Lawrence looks at you with confusion at first, but then he allows himself to step out of his detached thoughts and actually feel his body. His cheeks are warm; blushing most likely, all his skin is heated and prickling. His heart is racing faster just like yours, but it's not just from you making each other jump, his breathing is deeper than usual. Probably the most evident part to you, there's a very evident bulge in his sweatpants. While he was busy disassociating into fantasies of tearing you open, his body was flooding with arousal.

"Yeah..." he admits a little breathily. "I... guess it did." A slight smile graces your lips. You come closer, the kind that verges on overwhelming, but right now he wants it, your proximity, your touch. You roll him softly onto his back, straddling him.

"It's a good job I woke up then, isn't it?" you ask suggestively as you push his hair back, smiling down at him.

Lawrence thinks of his imagined you, lying bleeding and wide open and lifeless in his mind. Then he looks at the real you, flushed and adoring and very much alive on top of him.

"Yes." he agrees, smiling back. "It really is..."