#i will come back tomorrow with some drawings to show what i mean

[sunflowerpastels]

ok but what if all unicorns born in the crystal empire have horns made from actual crystals

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part ten

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: smut & not proofread

Breakfast was nice, but now you’re stressing. Since you have finished the breakfast, you have been waiting for Lando to drop your feared question. You know that he’s thinking about it, you can see it on his face, but the question doesn’t seem to come yet. Should you start about it? You continue to doubt about starting the conversation yourself. It would be nice to have this conversation, so you don’t have to think about it anymore - but on the other hand, you have no idea how to start it or what to say. You feel Lando his eyes on you. It’s pretty clear that he’s staring at you. It makes you even more nervous. 

What if you’re honest with Lando? You could tell him about your still growing feelings for him and that you want to date him officially. There’s only one, tiny problem. You have no idea about Lando his feelings for you. There still is a possibility of you making a fool out of yourself when confessing those things. For all you know, it could also be just a sex thing for him. You literally have no clue about how Lando feels. 

“Ready?” Lando asks you eventually. 

You show him a confused look. Is he asking you if you’re ready for this conversation? 

“Do you feel ready for this conversation?” Lando asks you a bit more clear now. 

“I don’t know,” you confess. 

Lando lets out a soft sigh. He knows that this can’t go on like this for any longer. There’s like a million questions inside of his head which repeat themselves during the whole day. He wants to know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking about all of this and is he has a chance - even a small one, to finally call you his girl. 

“I don’t want to push you into a conversation you don’t feel ready for,” Lando comforts you. He lays his hand onto your knee. Slowly he draws figures onto your skin. “But,” he continues to speak, “I do need some clearance soon. I can’t go on like this for too long.”

“Of course Lan,” you quickly tell him. 

With those words the conversation seems finished for now. Lando is already changing the subject and talking about going out for dinner tonight. He offers to invite Max and Kelly as well, something you gladly accept. Lando is quick to text your brother and invite them for tonight. 

Lando: dinner tonight with y/n & Kelly?

Max: Sounds good!

Max: can you tell y/n that the apartment is almost ready?

Lando lets out a soft sigh while reading Max his latest text message. He knew this day would come, but he didn’t expected it already. The apartment is almost ready, fuck. What is this going to mean for everything that’s going on between you and himself?

Lando: yeah

Max: its probably ready tomorrow, so if she wants she can move back tomorrow evening

Lando doesn’t reply at first. There’s only one word on repeat in his mind right now. Fuck. Eventually he types back a message for Max.

Lando: fuck my life

You notice the shift in Lando his behavior. He does however tell you that Max and Kelly will be there for dinner. So you wonder what caused his change in demeanor. Before you can question Lando, he’s already muttering something about going to game for a bit. 

He knows that this isn’t the way to handle a problem, but Lando really needs to think for a bit before telling you about Max his text. He doesn’t want to hear you talk about moving out yet. Lando is pretty sure that when he tells you, you’ll start packing in no time. He does however realize that if he won’t tell you himself, Max is going to ask about it tonight during dinner. Fuck. Luck really isn’t on his side today. 

You decide to let Lando be for a bit. You have no idea about what’s going on in his head right now. He seemed okay before he texted Max, but after that things changed. You wonder if Max said something, but you can’t imagine that. Maybe it’s because of the earlier conversation you had with him? Lando seems to want a clear answer about everything that’s going on between you two and you couldn’t supply him with that answer. Maybe you should figure out something to say about it before dinner tonight? 

There isn’t any other subject that you’ve spent this much time thinking about then the situation between Lando and you. You try to figure out what to tell Lando without embarrassing yourself, something that almost seems impossible when you want to tell him about your feelings. 

+++

“Fuck,” Lando mutters softly when he walks into your room. He should have knocked before walking in like this. He tries to look away - even tries to focus on the decor changes you did in your own room, but his eyes keep wandering back to you. Not that strange when you’re standing naked in front of your closet. He guesses that you’re picking out something to wear. 

When you turn around and notice Lando, you don’t know how to act. You feel his eyes glued on your body. It feels weird to have him in your own room. That’s probably because you’re naked right now. Before Lando wandered in, you were trying to figure out what to wear for dinner. You feel vulnerable with Lando checking you out like this. It not that you mind it this much, but it would be good if Lando said anything else. You still have no idea what he’s doing in your room right now.

“Lan?” You ask a bit confused. Lando has been absolutely silent since the soft ‘fuck’ left his mouth. You continue to wonder what he’s doing here.

Lando keeps his silence. He does however walk closer towards you. His silence causes you to shiver a bit. Lando tries to remember why he came in here, but his focus has shifted onto your body. He knows that he’s here to tell you about the renovations from Max his apartment being ready tomorrow, but now he can only focus on your nudeness. He takes you into his arms. You let him do so. Of course you let him do so, it’s not like you can say no to Lando. You feel how he grabs your ass, softly kneading it with his hands. It doesn’t take long before you let out a soft moan. 

Without saying anything else, Lando is quick to have you laying onto your bed. Your legs are already spread for him. He’s hovering above you on the bed. His necklace dangles in your face. You softly grab it, using it to pull Lando his face closer towards yours. Lando lets out a soft chuckle when you do so. You pay no attention on it, you just want to kiss Lando. So that’s what you do. 

While kissing him, you let your hands wander around. Eventually you reach his belt. Slowly you unclasp them and remove them from Lando his jeans. You pull those down as well. You see the outline of his already hard boner through his underwear. 

“Babygirl,” Lando groans when you trace the outline of his cock. 

You let out a soft chuckle and pull Lando his underwear down as well. His boner springs free against his stomach. Lando presses his lips against your neck, softly sucking on a bit of your skin. When you take his dick in your hands, you feel a moan from Lando vibrating against your skin. You try to guide Lando his boner towards your own cunt, wanting nothing more then to feel him inside of you. Lando knows what you want and he’s more then ready to give you exactly what you want. He pushes his boner inside of your cunt and starts to fuck you with a fast pace. 

In no time you’re a moaning mess underneath Lando. He isn’t any better himself. Lando is letting out hard moans as well. When he goes faster, he’s rewarded with another sweet moan from you. It makes him think about what will happen when you move back to your brother. What if that would also be the end of this? What if this is the last time he feels you around his dick like this? 

You feel yourself getting closer to your release. Lando sounds like he’s also getting pretty close. When he increases his pace again, you’re ready to let yourself go. 

“Please don’t move back in with your brother,” Lando suddenly says. 

You try to focus on what he just said. When you look him in the eyes, it almost seems like he doesn’t even realize that he said those words as well. You really try to focus on his words, but with the pace he’s still fucking you with, it’s impossible. You’re quick to lose your focus again. 

When you feel your orgasm crashing over you, you let out a last soft moan. Lando is quick to follow you into his own orgasm. With a couple moans he let himself come undone as well. 

While laying on the bed with Lando, you’re wondering about his earlier words. Why did he mention something about moving back to your brother? You know that you should just ask him, but you’re afraid that it will cause another difficult conversation. Carefully you look at Lando, he’s looking at you as well. He plays with your hair. 

“Max texted me,” Lando eventually just confesses, “You can move back into his apartment tomorrow evening.” 

You feel your world crashing down. Since Lando and you have been closer, you haven’t thought about moving back with Max. You weren’t even under the impression that this much time has already flew by. It makes you nervous. What do you need to say now? Do you even want to move back? 

“Tomorrow?” You ask. You need to be sure about it. 

Lando nods. It makes you sigh softly. Then you remember his words again. Didn’t he just ask you to stay here? You can only hope that Lando will ask you again. You’d rather stay here. 

“If you want you can stay as long as you need,” Lando offers, “I mean uh, so you don’t have to hurry with packing.”

As happy as you were with the first sentence, as sad as you are with his last. This means he does want you gone, right? You softly thank Lando, but you know your words aren’t sincere. What a mess. There’s only one way to make this even messier, you still have to confess about your feelings. 

What a fucking mess.

+++

Things have been awkward since you send Lando out of your room so you could get ready for dinner. Even now, while sitting next to him in the restaurant - it doesn’t feel the same. You feel rejected even if you didn’t confess anything yet. Maybe you should tell Lando that you don’t want to move back with your brother, that you rather stay with him. But, what would he say about that? This is making it even harder to let alone think about telling him about your feelings. You softly sigh. 

Max and Lando are talking about the upcoming race. You notice the lack of interest that Lando is carrying during the conversation. It doesn’t seem intentional, it just seems like he isn’t focused. Maybe he’s somewhere else with his head. You can understand it, you’re the exact same tonight. Eventually you start a casual conversation with Kelly about her latest modeling jobs. You try to focus on what Kelly is telling you, but your mind keeps floating away - thinking about the situation with Lando. 

When Kelly falls silent, it’s Max who continues to speak with you. “Excited to move back?” He asks you.

Lando can’t help himself, he’s quick to stare at you while awaiting your answer. He wants to hear that you’re not excited, but he doesn’t believe that you’ll say that. In the mean time you’re thinking about what to answer, but you have no clue. No you’re not excited to move back. You want to stay with Lando, but it seems weird to answer that. 

“Uh yeah,” you eventually mutter without sounding even a bit excited about it. “I just don’t know if I’ll manage to get everything together for tomorrow,” you continue, “so I might stay at Lando’s tomorrow and come back home later.”

Max chuckles. Lando doesn’t even look at you. He seems disappointed with your answer. You wonder if it’s because of you staying an extra day. He did offer it himself, so you don’t know why it should be a problem now. Or did you understand him wrong?

“If that’s okay with you Lan,” you quickly add. In your hurries you forget that it’s weird to call him Lan in front of your brother and Kelly. Lando however seems to give you a small smile after hearing the nickname. Before he can say anything to you, your brother has taken the word again. 

“As if he would say no to that,” Max laughs, “He begged me to make sure that you’d live with him during our renovations. If it weren’t for Lando, I’d have rented a bigger apartment for those weeks.”

What? 

What did your brother just say?

Lando spits out his drink when he hears the words Max just said to you. Fuck, why did Max tell you that? Max also seems to realize his mistake. His eyes widen with shock when he sees the way Lando and you react to his words. 

“Fuck, sorry Lando,” Max is quick to apologize, “I thought she knew.”

“No,” Lando sighs, “Of course not.”

You can’t stop yourself from questioning them. You need to make sure that you’ve heard your brother right. What if this is all a mishearing from your side? “It’s true?” You nervously ask Lando, “You wanted me to stay with you?” 

“Maybe it’s better to have this conversation at home,” Lando desperately answers, “I don’t want you to get mad at me in public.”

Getting mad? You have no idea why you should get mad. As far as you know, it finally seems like Lando really likes you. Liked you even before living together. But still, you show him a small nod and stand up from the table. 

“I’m not mad,” you tell Lando when he nervously grabs your hand and takes it into his own. 

Lando doesn’t reply. Both of you say bye to Max and Kelly before walking back towards the car. Your head is filling up with all sorts of questions. Did Lando really begged Max to make sure that you’d stay at his place? Why would he do that? Why would he want to live together with you? You always thought Lando didn’t like you at that moment. 

When you’re back home, Lando doesn’t know where to start. You want to question everything that’s coming up in you, but you don’t know where to start as well. Eventually you start with the question he didn’t answer yet.

“Is it true?” You ask Lando carefully. 

Lando softly sighs while he nods at your question. “Yes,” he mutters defeated.

“You begged Max to let me stay here during the renovations?” You continue to ask.

Lando keeps nodding. He doesn’t dare to look at you. 

“Why?” You ask him surprised. When Lando doesn’t answer fast enough, you continue to talk. “I always thought you didn’t like me, so I don’t get this.”

“Didn’t like you?” Lando almost laughs out loud while asking you. You show him a confused nod. “Oh for fucks sake,” Lando sighs, “I wish I didn’t like you.” He really can’t deal with this right now. The vagueness from the last days is making him slowly lose his mind. He thought that it was clear to you what he wanted - you, but apparently you don’t even realize it. 

“Babygirl, I already liked you before we even met,” Lando confesses. He can’t hold back his words anymore. All of them need to get out. He needs to make sure that you’ll see how much he likes you. “Max introduced me to you, but I knew perfectly well who you were since I was stalking your Instagram every day. That’s how desperate I was,” Lando continues. 

You don’t know what’s going on. Lando is confessing one thing after another. It almost seems like he needs to get everything out. His confessions are making you feel all kind of things.

“When I met you and heard about that boyfriend, I was disappointed, so I decided to take a bit of distance,” Lando goes on, “And then when you broke off with him, I couldn’t help myself to be happy. I tried to figure you out, finding a way to flirt with you but half of the time I was too nervous and acted weird I guess…” 

You wait for Lando to continue to explain. Somethings start to make sense. Earlier you never knew why Lando acted so weird around you before. Sometimes he was so shy he barely said anything, other times he joked with you or teased you. You never knew what you were up for. 

“I don’t know what I was hoping for, but everything felt pretty shattered when you left in a tight nude dress to go on a date with some other guy,” Lando speaks further, “I know I should have kept my silence, but I was so confused. I didn’t try much with you back then because I thought you needed time, but then I heard you about a new date and I could only think about being too late.” 

It amazes you that Lando remembers everything so well. He even still knows which dress you wore for that date. 

“And that’s when the worst part came,” Lando sighs. You notice the shift in his look. He almost looks ashamed. You wonder if he’s going to tell you about the girls now, you guess that they are the next fase. “I searched distraction,” he confesses, “I got drunk multiple nights in a week, only to find a girl who could distract me from my thoughts about you. I fell in some sort of pattern. Always fucking random girls but thinking about you.”

“That wasn’t an one time thing?” You ask confused. Lando sends you a confused look as well. “When you moaned my name,” you explain, “I thought that was a one time thing, but you’re saying that you thought about me every time?” 

“It wasn’t even the only time I moaned out your name,” Lando confesses. It causes a small smile to form on your face. Is it weird that you like to hear that? “Did you like that babygirl?” Lando asks you, he seems to have noticed your smile as well. You show him a small nod. Lando softly shakes his head, “Brat,” he mutters lovingly. 

“But, why did you want me to live here?” You ask Lando. 

Lando knows there’s no way back anymore. He has already said so much, would it really matter to confess even more? After letting out a soft sigh, he continues to talk and explain. 

“Babygirl, I uh just wanted another chance,” he confesses, “You were single, I didn’t hear anything about you going out on dates for a bit.. So when Max told me about the renovations, I asked him to help me out with a plan. Maybe I pushed him into it, you can’t be mad at your brother.” 

“Another chance at what?” You ask him. 

“I wanted to show you that I could be uh,” Lando falls silent for a bit. He thinks about which word to use. Eventually he decided to stop caring about the consequences from his words. He already said so much, he can better stay honest and tell you the whole truth. “I wanted to show you that I could be a good guy,” he sighs, “good enough to maybe have a chance with you. The idea was that if you lived here, you’d get to know me on another level and maybe fell for me too.”

“Too?”

“Babygirl, you’re asking questions as if you still don’t get it,” Lando accuses you with a kind smile.  “Do I need to spell it out for you? I like you, probably love you even though it’s kinda early to say something like that. I really like you, as in I want you to be my girlfriend and to be by my side for everything.”

“Fuck Lan,” you whisper. 

“I know, it’s pathetic,” Lando sighs, “Please don’t feel like you have to like me back, I should have confessed way earlier instead of doing all of this. I get it if it was just sex for you.” After saying those words he’s ready to walk away. He takes a small step away from you. “I uh, I need a bit of time for myself.”

“Lan wait,” you quickly stammer, “Let me reply first.”

Lando stops and turns himself back to you. Nervously he watches you, waiting for you to say something about everything he just said. You try to gather your thoughts, but when you see the nervous look on his face you just tell him everything that’s coming up in you. 

“I love you too,” is the first thing that you tell him. Lando his expressions are quick to change. Surprised but really happy he looks at you. He already wants to take you into his arms and kiss you, but you continue talking. “And I stalked your Instagram a bit as well before we met,” you continue, “That’s probably why my ex thought we we’re together. I don’t know what went wrong, but I’m glad you made up this weird plan and got me to life here. Last weeks I’ve fallen for you and to be honest, I don’t even want to move back to Max.” 

“Stay,” Lando quickly says, “You can live here with me.”

You smile. “That sounds amazing,” you confess.

“And please be my girlfriend from now on,” Lando continues.

“Of course,” you answer. 

“Finally,” Lando sighs relieved. This time he does take you into his arms. It feels like home. He realizes that it isn’t his apartment that’s his home. It only felt like home since you lived here with him. It’s you who’s his home. And for now it seems like he has gotten his forever home.

“I love you,” you softly murmur before pressing a small kiss against Lando his cheek. 

“I love you babygirl,” Lando replies, “and now I really need to call your brother and thank him a couple times for spilling my secret.”

You chuckle. This is a life you can get used to. 

a/n ; that was it everyone <3 i decided to end it like this, since the inspiration was missing quite a bit. i hope to write something new, but i have no ideas yet :) my requests are open (but i don't write everything that's coming in!). thanks for all the support!!!!

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[stxrslut]

these past days have driven you crazy. the thought of the games being only tomorrow makes it impossible to sleep. you need something, some sort of thrill, something erotic even, to make you forget. you know exactly who to go to for that.

content : hunger games au. reader has lots of complicated feelings. intense sex. knife play. blood. degradation. rafe talks about killing reader. minimal aftercare.

when he opens the door he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. you wouldn’t expect anything more, it’s 11pm at night and you hadn’t let him know you were coming.

“what happened?” he frowns, letting you in. you walk right up to him, getting in his space, though he doesn’t seem to mind too much.

“remember what you said about distractions…” you ask, looking up at him and placing a hand on his bare chest, “and remember… remember how you offered to show me.. that you could help me be distracted?”

he looks down at you, lips parted in genuine surprise, “yeah. yeah I remember.. you uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “you want that?”

you nod, “yeah…” you speak quietly, slowing standing up on your toes to reach near his lips, “I want that.”

he leans down to meet you, beginning a heated kiss that leads you over to his bed. he pulls on the straps of your nightdress to remove it, letting you fall back once it’s off.

“shit… gonna make you all mine..”

two rounds later, you’re not satisfied. all you’ve been doing is whining for more, something even more.

you want something thrilling, something scary and erotic all at the same time. you’re not getting it, and it’s most definitely not distracting you.

“no— need somethin’ else.. need more,” you whine, pushing rafe away and rolling over grumpily. you know it’s rude. to turn up in his room asking for sex only to not accept what he can give you.

you hear him get off the bed, you’re expecting him to kick you out any second now. you hear a rummaging through some drawers and then he’s walking back towards you.

you’re about to sit up to leave when you feel the sudden cold of a blade on your skin. you shiver, looking down to see a sharp, inevitably murderous knife pressed to your collarbone.

“you wanna fuckin’ whine?” his tone is mean now. he flips you over so that he’s standing over you, blade now on your neck.

you moan involuntarily, this is what you’d wanted. this is the thrill you’d been seeking. the games are all that is on your mind, but now in a good way, a sick and twisted way, but good nonetheless.

he chuckles, “shit.” a smirk is plastered on his face now as he looms the weapon over you, “this is what you wanted? this is the more you’ve been cryin’ for?”

you nod frantically, arching your back with a loud moan, “yes— yes this is what I wanted— want— want—”

“what? want me to stab you? want me to kill you?” he breathes out as he begins to lign himself up you you once again, “or you just want me to fuck you like I’m gonna?”

“mmh— please— please,” you moan, letting out a little shocked yet still pleasured whimper when the knife nicks the skin on your upper chest, undoubtedly drawing blood.

he begins to move, fucking your already sensitive hole with a new force, a new venom. driven by, you’re sure, exactly the same feelings you’re having.

“you’re sick,” he seethes, not slowing his turning or relaxing his grip on the knife as he speaks, “this shit turns you on? fuckin’ sick.” he chuckles breathily when all you do in response is moan once more, “don’t even care do you? just another fuckin’ desperate slut. thought you were innocent y’know… thought I was gonna have to show you how to do this.”

“mmh— m’gonna.. rafe… I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as an orgasm crashes down onto you. a white hot pleasure in your core as you writhe around.

the knife remains held to your neck as rafe spills a hot load into you. his hand shakes, pushing it closer, and inciting even more fear into you.

not even five minutes later he’s dressed again, standing over you. he runs the tip of the blade over your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“you gotta go now.” he murmurs, voice deep and almost intimidating, “don’t want to make it harder to kill you tomorrow.. I still got a game to win.”

walking down the hallway with your legs shaking, you think. you think that might be the most horrible thing you’ve ever done, and also the most erotic. you also think, that it was exactly what you needed.

[amorfista]

"Beach lookout's nap"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

Echo and Hunter might have gotten concerned about the ruckus [Part 3] that these two started to cause...

Crosshair, on the other hand...?

He couldn't give a flying kark.

...or least that's what it would seem like.

Even through a slit of sight, nothing escapes the skillful sniper's eyes. Watching his brothers (and sister) from the distance, he peacefully swings on his hammock, a couple of meters above the ground and (hopefully) far away enough from the mischief that is, apparently, stirring among his siblings.

This state of bliss comes to a halt however, when the crackle of a comm breaks through the sounds of nature.

“Omega to Crosshair, come in Crosshair!”

.

.

.

"For the love of the Maker", he thinks to himself.

Admitting his defeat, Crosshair opened his eyes fully and stared at the palm leaves above, casually spotting a palm weevil crawling over them within a split second.

He took a deep breath as he pressed the button of his own commlink, making sure to drag his words to let Omega know of his displeasure as he spoke:

"What do you want?"

TO BE CONTINUED!!!

Alright, alright, alright.

I know I said that I'd post a version with 1-2 tats and then the full body, but I just could NOT choose which tat to leave on😭 so now you get the zero tats as the "HC" version, and...

DON'T BE SHY, ZOOM THE HECK IN!

(also i know that he shouldn't have an ice vulture in this hc where he never left the batch so he never met Mayday, whoops)(SORRY FOR THE HUGE POST TOO)

This was so. Much. Fun. Not all the tats have a HUGE, INTRINCATE meaning but, honestly? I'm just SO HAPPY with the result.

Some of the tats are very pretty so, I thought I'd clean them up and show you guys! Might even make stickers in the future!

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

@arcsimper5 THANK YOU SOOO MUCH for the hammock idea, plus the wonderful story that you've written around my drawings!! You're a sweetheart!!♥♥♥

@grinningnexu THANK YOU! for the thousand amazing tattoo ideas!

@nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius THANK YOU TOO! for the ice vulture idea; I'll make a sketch for his back tomorrow!! ♥

@wwheeljack @freesia-writes the no-tat version is the og now XD

I'm very, very happy about the drawing. The colors and background were super fun to make. The perspective might be wonky but I don't mind, I'll get better at it eventually xD

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT AND AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK AND LOVE!!! 💗💗💗

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[maeumine]

Pairing: bf!Nishimura Riki x fem!reader

Genre: angst&fluff!

Summary: your boyfriend riki comforts u during a bad day

Warnings: mental health issues

Hii so this is my first story it's something really simple, let me know if you like it <33 English is not my first language🙏🏻

It was one of those days, no you didn't have your period, and no nothing bad really happened to you.

You couldn't really say what was happening with you.You were just...empty or sad. You never knew how to describe this mood.

Usually your way to dealing with this kind of things was to stay in your room, with your phone or computer, scrolling thru social media and watching some old nostalgic shows like h2o or drawing while listening to lana del ray and basically ignoring everyone and anything until you eventually felt better.

As you woke up already taking your computer to do what was previously mentioned, the sound of your phone vibration echoed in your room. Your finger was about to press the decline button, but your eyes read the name of Riki.Your boyfriend.

"Goodmorning sleepyhead how are you?" his soft voice hit your ears like a melody, immediately giving you the comfort you were searching for. Just by hearing his voice, you felt like u just got free from a heavy weight. "Hey Riki goodmorning why are u calling me this early? Your voice is coming off as more cold than what you expected to sound - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound mean I'm just really tired today, "your voice softened "don't worry princess, is everything ok? Yesterday you asked me to come to your house and have a baking date, remember?" Fuck you mentally slapped yourself for forgetting such thing "yes I'm so sorry Riki but I don't feel really good today can we postpone?" Your voice pleading hoping he will understand "of course y/n it's alright,do you want me to still come over maybe we can cuddle and watch a movie instead" you bite your lips "no Riki I'm sorry I prefer stay alone today see you tomorrow" you hung the call before he could even answer you.

Your body fell on the mattress beneath you, curling on yourself. You felt so guilty you didn't want to sound cold or mean you were sorry, but usually you dealt with these episodes alone. You always did, plus you and Riki were a new couple it was barely 1 month since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you were afraid to show this side to him.

The morning went by, and so did part of the afternoon. You passed the whole time by staying in bed sleeping and crying, thinking of random scenarios in your head as your eyes were about to close again. The sound of your doorbell echoed in the apartment as u reluctantly dragged yourself to the door and opened it, reveling your boyfriend figure looking at you worried. "How are you?? I called you for the whole day. " his tone firm, your eyes looking at the floor."I'm sorry I was sleeping. I told u I'm tired. " You tried to shrug it off, walking to the living room the boy behind you."You don't seem just tired," he said, emphasizing the last word, his body crouching in front of you who were sitting on the sofa. "i just want to know what happened. Did I do something? Or is it something I can help u with? " his eyes pleading you, it hurted u seeing him like this he didn't do anything he's the best thing that could happen to you "no I'm so sorry it's not you it's just- you begin to say feeling a knot in your throat-i don't even know sometimes i have this episodes where I feel empty and I don't really know what to do thats why i wanted to ignore you" tears streaming down your face as he bring you closer to him, as you looked at him your body immediately cling at him like a magnet, on of his hand went behind your head and the other one massaged your back you let everything out feeling the warmth of his body giving you the comfort you were craving since this morning.

You two stayed like this for a while. As you calmed down, he kissed your head and looked at you. "Do you want to watch your favorite movie and eat something?" He asked softly, your heart warming you nodded, stending up and choosing the movie you wanted while Riki went to the kitchen returning a few minutes later with 2 bowls of ramen you snuggled closer to him watching the movie.

The 2 now empty bowls were on the table in front of the sofa, his arm sneaking around your shoulder as you leaned your head in the crock of his neck, inhaling his perfume, outside was now dark the and in the apartment the only sourceof light was the weak light coming from the tv, everything seemed to have stop it was so peaceful, you felt a hand caressing your hair "do you feel better now?" His deep voice brought you back on earth. Your eyes looked at him in the dim light. God, he looked ethereal, you nodded, snuggling even closer to him, which made him laugh lightly. "Next time you feel like this, tell me please, you don't need to hide from me ok"he said seriously, "Promise." Your voice answered before closing your eyes and drifting to sleep with a smile on your face and his heartbeat as your lullaby,knowing how lucky you are to have Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend.

CUT!

If you came this far, Thank youuu I hoped you like it let me know if there are any grammatical errors and if you liked it see you in the next one<3

[dira333]

To save and be saved - Shouto Todoroki x Reader - Baby Series part 3

part 2

“Oh, you’re hiring help now?” Katsuki drawls from the doorway, one hand in his hip as he examines the office.

“Uncle Tsuki!” Shouji’s on his feet in a heartbeat, racing over. “Uncle Tsuki!”

“Hey Stinker,” he picks the kid up with ease, settling him on his shoulder. “You helping your Pop?”

“Yes!” Shouji exclaims eagerly. “I’m drawing his Logo.”

“Good idea, the old one sucks anyway. You wanna show me what you’ve got so far?”

The boy considers it for a second, sucking in his lower lip before shaking his head.

“Not yet. Wanna finish it first.”

“Good choice. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Gonna talk to your Pop for a second, okay? Ears off!”

“Okay,” Shouji giggles, pretending to shut off his ears when Katsuki lets him down, shuffling over to where he’s got paper and pens spread out.

-

“Is it taking your kid to work day?” Katsuki asks Shouto, walking closer. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Sorry,” Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shouko’s colicky. It’s been a tough week.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst. I’m so glad Kaede is over that. Want me to take Shouji for the weekend? It’s only a small help, I guess, but we like having him around.”

“That’s a nice offer.” Shouto yawns. “I’m going to play it back before giving you an answer, if that’s okay. But surely you’re not here to help me raise my kids and keep my sanity at the same time.”

“No, you’re right. I have the numbers on the new guy. Hitoshi thinks he’ll be able to trap him tonight or tomorrow at least. Thought you might want a piece of it, but I think you better sit this own out.”

“Uncle Toshi?” Shouji asks from his corner, curiosity piqued. 

“What did I say about your ears being off?” Katsuki asks, face thunderous.

Shouji giggles and turns back to drawing, not the least bit afraid.

“It’s a shame, really,” Shouto agrees. “But I don’t think it would be a safe choice to join. I’d appoint one of my Sidekicks if we need the numbers. Shatter’s doing exceptionally well.”

Katsuki huffs. “Sidekicks.” For a moment it’s quiet between the two, but then he nods. “Fine, tell her to call me. I’ll give her the details.”

He gets up, pausing for a moment, his hand on the back of his chair as he stares at the wall.

“I’m gonna send some of the guys over,” he finally adds. 

Shouto blinks up at him, confusion visible.

“You need a nap. If you can’t ask for help, that’s your bad. Eh, Stinker. You wanna hit up Kirishima?”

“Uncle Jirou?” Shouji’s jumping up and down with excitement. “Can I, Papa?”

Shouto sighs, eyeing the Couch. It does look comfy.

“Sure. But don’t eat any of the sweets Denki keeps in his pockets.”

“Okay,” Shouji grabs a paper and runs over, pushing it onto his Desk.

The Logo he’d been trying to draw has been abandoned in the corner, instead, there’s now a drawing of him, you, and the two kids. Shouji and Shouko are drawn holding hands and he has to fight back tears when Shouji clambers up his lap to press a wet kiss against his cheek.

“See you later Papa. Love you!”

-

“No way,” Denki leans forward. “You’re making that up.”

“Uhuh,” Shouji shakes his head. “I really dreamed that.”

“A dragon’s so cool. I never dreamed of dragons. I just have boring dreams. Like race cars.”

“Race cars are cool too.”

“Uff, I’m glad.” Denki chuckles, turning to his side. “Babe, did you hear that? I’m cool too.”

“Not you,” Kyoka points out. “Just the race cars.”

“You wound me.”

She snickers before winking at Shouji. “You’re going to come over to visit when the little one is born?” She points at the swell of her belly, flinches at what must be a kick. 

“He’s playing soccer right now.”

“He is?” Shouji’s amazed. “I didn’t know there was so much space in there. Shouko never played soccer!”

“Yeah, because our kid’s cool.” Denki boasts before considering it. “Shouko’s cool too though. Maybe she was planning world domination?”

“What’s that mean?” Shouji asks just as Eijirou settles heavily on the chair next to him. “Hey Big Man!”

“Uncle Jirou!” Shouji jumps into his lap with ease, eager to cash in the warm hug this uncle always gives out. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Big Man! You’re growing like a weed, Man. Soon you’re taller than Minoru.”

“Very funny,” Minoru lisps from the other end of the table. “Don’t listen to him, Shouji. You can do great things no matter your height!”

“Sure, Uncle Noru.”

“Is everyone coming by today,” Denki asks at that moment, eyeing the door. “Not like I hate impromptu get-to-gathers, but what’s the occasion?”

“Shouto needed a fiver,” Katsuki harrumphs, stepping over. “And if I just call one of you guys, the rest is gonna be jealous. Don’t lie.”

“I’d never lie,” Tenya points out, two steps behind him. “I thank you for your consideration.”

-

Shouji doesn’t seem to mind the attention, climbing from one lap to the other, always answering the same questions.

Yes, he’s grown since the last time. 

Yes, his little sister is the cutest thing on earth.

Yes, he’s progressing well in his Quirk Training.

“Look!” He shows off to Uncle Shouji - probably one of his favorites because Uncle Shouji always calls him Shouji Number One. “I can make a really big flame and a big icicle at the same time.”

“That’s amazing!” Shouji praises him.

Not soon after though, all the talking and climbing and hugging has tired him out. 

“Has anyone seen the kid?” Katsuki asks when he notices his voice missing.

“Over here,” Shouji calls out in a hushed voice, opening up his arms. Shouji’s sleeping soundly in his embrace, sucking on his thumb.

“So cute!” Mina can’t help but comment, clinging to Eijirou. “I want that too.”

“Children are not just cute,” Tenya points out. “They are also a lot of work!”

“I know that,” Mina hisses back. “Spoilsport!”

Tenya opens his mouth to retaliate, closing it with a click though when someone clears their throat pointedly behind them.

“I thought you wanted to hit up Kirishima?” Shouto asks from the doorway, voice carefully calm.

Katsuki shrugs. “You call one of them, they all come. You had a good nap?”

“Yes,” Shouto confirms stiffly. “Thank you. Where’s my son?”

All of his old classmates point in unison.

Shouto sighs. He should have known.

“I should have been home an hour ago,” he explains softly under his breathe as he makes his way over. “Sorry for the trouble, everyone.”

“No trouble at all,” Izuku points out, pressing Shouto’s shoulder with one scarred hand. “Always there to help when you need us.”

“I don’t wanna bother-”

“Dude,” Denki exclaims. “You’re not bothering us. If anything, you’re giving us an excuse to hit you up as well when the little one’s a pain in the ass.”

Kyoka hits his shoulder at that, but she still nods to show her agreement.

“Look,” Fumikage points out, startling them. “We’ve been through war together. Can it really be more difficult to ask for help in this?”

Shouto’s shoulders lower and he nods. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He bends down to scoop up Shouji, unable to stop from smiling when he notices the thumb firmly lodged in his mouth.

“Let’s get you home.”

“No, no...” Shouji whines low under his breath, waking up just enough to realize what’s going on. “Wanna play!”

“Yes, yes. Momma’s waiting.”

Shouji sniffles at that, falling silent, his face hidden against his father’s neck.

With a last smile at his friends, Shouto leaves.

-

“Fuyumi asked if we’d leave Shouko with her for the weekend,” you explain that night, curled into his hold.

“That’s pretty brave to offer in this state,” Shouto comments dryly, enjoying the chuckle it draws from you.

“It is. But she’s gone through this before, she knows what to do. Besides, Rei’s going to help out.”

“You think we should do it?”

“You don’t think so?” You ask back, leaning back to catch the look in his eyes. “What are your thoughts?”

“I’m just… Shouldn’t we be able to do this on our own?”

“We are doing it on our own,” you disagree softly. “But no one said we have to refuse any help. Besides, I think we’re over the worst. And one weekend of uninterrupted sleep would do wonders for us. You can’t be a good father if you’re running on fumes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, considering it. “So… Shouko with Fuyumi and Shouji with Katsuki?”

“He offered,” You remind him. “Besides, your parents are always eager to get Shouji for the weekend, you know that.”

“Yes.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I know. I think…” He takes a deep breath. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good,” you kiss him, let your love and care for him drop like honey from your tongue. “Now close your eyes and rest, love. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe he could have laughed at that. That a civilian could keep a Hero safe.

But he knows it’s true. His heart has never been safer than with you.

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

Next part? - Baby Series - part 4

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Price to Pay

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power dynamics, violence, blood, death, grief and trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: a robbery changes your entire life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 Siri's Birthday Bone-nanza! Happy Birthday. Enjoy. I've cooked you up some Mob AU+Andy Barber.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The flashing lights fade away with the squall of the siren. The smell of iron tinges the air and stains your every breath. You shudder as you stare through the tight squares between the bars across the windows.

That grating did little to deter the robber. No, he made you do it. You had no choice. 

You look down at your hands. Will the shaking ever stop? There’s blood crusted around your nails despite the frantic scrubbing in the bathroom. Once the officers took their evidence, you couldn’t stop trying to wash away the taint. 

The floor shows the crimson imprint of where the men fell. Where you went to hold him in the throes of death. The fate you fired into his chest. It was you or him. That’s what you told yourself. It’s what the police said too as they wrote out the report. Come down tomorrow and sign your statement, ma’am. 

Stan couldn’t be bothered to come down to the corner shop. He owns the place but is doesn’t mean he gives a shit. The officers waited for him to show but resigned themselves to following up later. 

He had a gun. You couldn’t do anything else but open the drawer and scoop out the bills. You weren’t going to do anything but hand over the money but then he fumbled and you did too. The scramble for the pistol under the counter slowed time. The pull of the trigger put it into overdrive. 

You can feel the recoil in your forearm. The rest of you is just as stiff. You can’t untie the tension left by the night’s deadly end. You killed that man. He's rolled him out under a sheet.

He bled out in your arms, even as you desperately tried to stem the flow with the dirty rag. Why did you shoot him? Over fifty bucks worth of change? 

Adrenaline. That’s what the cops told you. Stupidity is what you believe. This job isn’t worth all that. 

And you still have to finish your shift. You look away from the faded stain on the floor. He was so young. He just made a stupid decision and you took everything from him. He’s dead. You killed him. 

🚨

You stand outside the convenience store. Strange how it seems just the same as it was. The dingy moniker flaps at one corner as a tear rents the fabric.

Customers come and go as you stand on the curb. You’ve been standing there for an hour now, trying to make yourself go inside. You have to work. If you want to stay in the hell-hole you call a home, you need the stingy paycheck. 

You check the time. You’re not late yet. You only came early because you couldn’t stand to be alone in your apartment. Now that you’re here, you just want to go back. 

A bang jars you and you cry out, spinning to search for the source. A rusty old Chrysler chuffs out black smoke and rumbles loudly. Just a backfire. You knot your shaking hands together and search the block. 

“Heard something about a robbery,” a voice draws your attention towards another car. The model is too nice for a neighbourhood like this. A man leans against it, his hands in his pockets. “Young kid. They took him down to the morgue.” 

You squint at the man in confusion. His suit is finely tailored and his beard trimmed to a tee. He stands out among the sagging jeans and worn leather. You shake your head. 

“I heard...” you croak.  

“Sad. Stupid kid, huh? Stupid decision. All for a couple bucks.” He tuts and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, um, tragic. I...” you look over your shoulder. “I gotta work.” 

You turn away and march across the pavement. Something about the man’s cool demeanour sets you on edge. Or maybe it’s the reminder of the night before. Not that you could forget. 

You enter with the chirp of the bell and greet Mauricio as he plays solitaire on the counter top. Your sneakers squeak to a halt before you can step on the cracked tile with the red splotches. You stare down at the festering memory. 

“Tough night,” Mauricio says. “I never shot one, ya know? Always shoot past ‘em. Give ‘em a scare.” 

You tuck your chin down and step over the tile. Mauricio lets you in through the door and you sidle behind the counter. You put your purse in the cupboard by the cigarettes and sniff. You wring your hands and lean on the shelf as you wait for your shift to start. 

Mauricio shuffles the cards and packs them away. 

“You okay? Police were here earlier.” 

“They were?” You gulp. 

“Might be back. Think they just wanted some Coke,” he snickers and tosses the cards under the till. The gun is still gone, probably down in some evidence locker. “Stan is pissed about the pistol, ya know?” 

“Mm, I didn’t... didn’t mean to.” 

He sniffs as he pats his back pocket, making sure he has his wallet. “Sorry, senorita. It can’t be easy, wish I had some way to help but Stan isn’t gonna pay me nothin’ to stay and I got that gig down at Jethro’s.” 

“I’m fine.” The lie is less than convincing. 

“Told him, shouldn’t have you on nights.” He shakes his head as you move to let him past. 

“It’s work.” 

“Eh, it’s somethin’,” he scoffs and hands over the keys. “Whole thing was plastered in the paper and all over the internet. Should keep the bad ones away for a while. Place is hot now. No one wants to get their ass blown off over pocket change.” 

“Sure.” 

You clip the keys on your belt. You back up and cross our arms. You lean again as you wait for him to go. You can’t say what’s worse, being alone or talking about it. 

As Mauricio goes, a customer enters. She wants a pack of menthol and some scratchers. You ring her through as she snaps her gum between her teeth. The bell chimes with her exit and stutters as another enters. 

It’s the man in the nice suit. He stops at the newspaper rack and grabs an issue. He struts up to the counter and throws it down.  

“Just the paper?” You ask. 

He steps closer and opens the newsprint. The crinkle is deafening in the drone of the local radio station buzzing from the speaker above you. He taps the page. 

“Kid was eighteen.” 

You bite down and stare back at him. You don’t know what to say or do. Is he some sort of detective? His suit might suggest as much but he hasn’t flashed a badge. 

“It was a BB gun. Looked pretty real, didn’t it?” He spits. 

You wince and shrug. You trace your knuckles nervous as you look down at the paper. Your nose tingles, your eyes too. 

He backs up and heaves out a sigh. He glances around and strides up to the stained tile. He looks down at it emphatically. 

“Blood don’t come out easy. No matter how much you scrub or bleach. It’s like that Edgar Allan Poe story...” he raises his chin and closes his eyes, taking another deep. “Do you hear it? His heartbeat? Racing as the life drains out of him?” 

Your lip quivers and you shake your head. You flick away tears before they can fall, “I didn’t mean to.” 

His cheek twitches and he snorts. He turns to your stiffly. He comes back to the counter and you tense as he reaches under his jacket. You shudder and peek at the empty shelf beneath the till where the pistol should be. He slips out a photo and lays it down, his thumb lingering on the frame.  

You gasp. It’s that boy. He’s young and smiling. He doesn’t look scary like the night before. 

“You didn’t mean to kill my son? Over a bunch of piss-stained bills? You couldn’t tell the gun was a fucking toy?!” 

You cower and your eyes well. You rub them with your sleeves. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You fucking will be, sweetheart. Do you know who I am?” 

You stare and your mouth falls open. 

“His name was Jacob. Jacob Barber.” He swipes up the photo and snarls. “Any bells ringing?” 

You gape at him in horror. Barber. Yes, you’ve heard of him. He’s no detective. That suit is just a disguise. His business is deadly. His business is his ego. The personal is professional and you just stepped over the line. 

You brace yourself and drop your arms straight. You watch him, waiting. He looks back at you, agitation rippling above his brow. 

“Nothing else to say?” He sneers. 

“I deserve it.” 

He arches a brow, “deserve what?” 

“To die. So do it, please.” 

He laughs sardonically. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans in. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m gonna do a lot fucking worse.” His eyes flick up and down and he pushes off. “You owe me and I always get what’s mine.” 

He twists on his heel and marches out. You gulp, frozen in fear, and watch after him. You don’t move until the next customer enters. Even then, you can hardly make your body listen to your fractured mind. 

🚨

There is no coming back. Thing’s don’t get better. You don’t calm down. You don’t sleep. You barely eat.  

All you can think about is the blood gushing from that boy’s chest. When you manage to close your eyes, you feel the hot stream flowing through your fingers. You smell it in the air. Beneath it all, you hear his father’s threat. 

‘You owe me...’ 

How can you repay that sort of debt? You killed his child. You didn’t have to. You could have handed over the money and told Stan the kid had a gun pointed right at you. Why did you do it? That question is as torturous as the memory. 

A week goes by. Ragged nights followed by desolate days. You stand behind that counter and stand at the reddened tile, or sit at home and rot. You wait for him to come back. Maybe then he’ll just end it. 

Another week of purgatory and your dissociation gives way to paranoia. Every time the shop door opens, you expect to see him. Barber and his tailored-jacket, a gun in his hand, ready to claim what’s owed. Every stranger on the street is just him in disguise, every shadow in your apartment is him haunting you. 

When he does appear, a month to the day, you’re almost relieved. There he is at your apartment door, stood as he was the first time you saw him. Arms crossed, leaning, looming. You stop and stare at him.  

He looks you in the eye and nods at the door. You unlock it and let him in. He isn’t in a suit this time. He’s dressed down, a hoodie and jeans. He doesn’t seem the type for denim. He struts inside and you close the door behind him. 

The air is static as he examines the bachelor suite. Your whole life in a single room. He is unimpressed as he stops by the table. Stan lets you take the old papers. You’ve brought home every single issue with a mention of the boy; Jacob. You don’t know why. 

His blue eyes are darkened in the gloom of your apartment. His beard is thick across his cheeks and defines his square jaw. His features are stony in determination. 

He pushes them to the floor and huffs. He stalks around the space as you stand by the door. You imagine him spinning to you, pulling a gun from under his sweater and firing. You could smile at the thought of it ending. 

He stops at the foot of your bed. The lumpy mattress sits on a metal frame. Beige sheets are pulled to the corners, a plaid comforter strewn carelessly below a single pillow. A used double you got from the thrift shop with your first pay. It smells like cigarettes. 

You stare at his broad shoulders as he runs his hand up his front. His zipper slices through the silence as he pulls it down. He shrugs off the hoodie and spins on his heel. He slings it over the only chair, right beside the table. He looks up at you, eyes blazing. 

“Strip.” 

His demand shakes you. It’s the first you’ve felt anything but horrible grief and self-pity. You’re afraid. You weren’t before. Just anxious. 

“Don’t say a fucking word,” he snarls as he tugs at his long-sleeved tee. 

You untie your sneakers and leave them by the door. You cross the room, staying far from him as you take in every inch. The apartment feels even smaller now.  

You unzip your jacket and fold it over the side of the plastic hamper in the corner. You pull of your socks and drop them into the depth of unwashed clothes. You undo your fly, your hands clumsy and shaking. The rustle behind you adds to the speckle of ember under your skin. 

You push your jeans down and step out of them. You throw them into the basket and peek over your shoulder. He stands at the foot of the bed once more. His hands are on his hips as he glares at the mattress. He wears only a pair of dark briefs. 

His intent isn’t hard to fathom. It’s not about the act itself, it’s the power, the humiliation. You ruined his life; he’ll do the same. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he barks. 

You pull your shirt off and fumble with the back of your bra. You can barely get a grip as you quake. You push down your underwear and hang your head. You turn and march forward. He shoves down the elastic of his briefs at your approach. 

He’s a big man. Tall, muscular, stronger than you, without a doubt. Even if he wasn’t, he has all the power to keep you in line. 

“I don’t want to see your fucking face. Get on your stomach.” He commands as he peels off his last layer. 

You put your hands on the mattress and crawl over it. You cry out as he strikes you across your ass and sends you flat. You brace yourself on your elbows and whimper. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed.  

He hauls your legs over the edge so your feet are on the floor. He growls and scratches up the back of your thigh. You whine and he swats the back of your head. 

“Quiet,” he warns. 

He leans over you and plants his hands on either side of you. You stare up at the pillow, focusing on it as you desperately search for the numbness of those last weeks. It’s all gone now. You feel everything. The sting of flesh, the futility, the horror. 

He lifts a hand, the bed shifting with him, and traces along your spine. He dips along your ass and kicks your legs wider. He feels between your thighs and jams his fingers against your folds. He’s impatient and cruel. He rams two fingers into you and you squeak, spine arching as you grasp the linen comforter. 

He hushes you as he pushes deep. His knuckles press against you and he draws back. He jerks his hand gruffly, fucking your dry cunt raw. You hold your breath as he plumes out around you. Each intrusion is dull and achy. 

He tears free of your cunt and angles over you. He guides his tip along the swell of your ass and presses to your entrance. There is no time to be ready for him. 

You cry out and throw your head up. It’s like a red-hot iron inside of you, burning from inside out. He snarls and hooks his arm around you, smothering your mouth in his hand. You smell yourself on his fingers as the press against your nose. 

He snaps his hips and buries himself in you. You kick the floor and slap the mattress. Your muscles tighten and your bones thrum. He pushes his nose into your hair and ruts again. You squeal into his palm as your eyes bead with tears. 

He’s methodical. He pumps into you. Long, slow strokes so you feel every inch. He’s taunting you. He’s punishing you. His hot breath wraps around your scalp as he puffs. 

He bends his other arm, elbow digging into the limp mattress, and stretches his fingers around your throat.  He collapses onto you, crushing you beneath him as he squeezes your neck and jaw. He has you trapped in his grip. 

His pace quickens with his breath. He grunts and growls against your temple as the bed frame whines with his rhythm. His flesh slaps between the squeaky tempo and your pathetic mewling stays cupped behind his rough hand. 

He pounds you into the mattress, each dip of his hips heavier than the last. Every ounce of emotion; anger, grief, resent, hatred, is hammered into your helpless body. 

He puts his teeth around the brim of your ear and pinches. He growls and you feel the rumble roll through him. His thrusts turn snappy, punctuated by the bite of your flesh. Harder, harder, harder. He spasms but doesn’t let up. 

He untangles his arms from under you and pins your shoulders. He fucks his cum into you as he lifts himself up. His weight threatens to pop your bones out of joint. He pushes his thighs against yours, splaying you as far as he can. 

His furious onslaught doesn’t let up until your thighs and cunt are painted in him. Until your breathless and babbling, head lolling, defeated as he leaves you smeared across the blankets. He burrows in as deep as he can before he pulls out. 

He pushes off the bed, jarring the world around you, and his shadow hangs over you. He inhales and lets it out slowly. 

“My son. My only child,” he grits out. He bends and feels along your cunt, spreading the slimy mess leaking from your cunt. “You owe me and I will get exactly what you took from me.” 

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄

ㅤㅤdieter bravo x f!reader

genre: smut, pwp, minors dni, friends to lovers? kinda

word count: 1.4k

summary: you and dieter get high on gummies.

warnings: edibles (gummies), heavy petting, high talk, for the sake of this fic the gummy shows affect very quickly, oral (fem receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, dieter is a menace, lots of grinding, also when i say pwp I REALLY mean no plot, just friends making out essentially, everything is %100 consensual

Your eyes widen gradually as you witness Dieter lean closer, his smile boyish as he holds a red gummy between his teeth. 

"Come on," he says, brows curling upwards. "You take half, I take half." 

Your eyes move between the gummy and the gorgeous brown of his eyes. It hadn't been long since you and Dieter started hanging out, not a lot had been shared between you two, other than your love of movies and, surprisingly, tabletop games. 

Staring at his expectant gaze, you burst into a giggle when he wiggles his brows. Finally, with an exasperated exhale, you shake your head and lean closer. 

"Fine, you dork. I don't have work tomorrow anyway." 

"Perfect," he grazes the sugary surface of the gummy against your bottom lip. "Bon Appetit."

You feel the softness of his lips as you bite down into the flesh of the sugary delight. You expect him to move back, for him to immediately chew and swallow, but instead, he lingers, keeping his lips flush against yours as you take half the gummy into your mouth. The sugars dissolve, leaving a bare and imperfect surface. It tastes a bit like strawberry, but it is overwhelmed by the taste of cannabis. 

Wrinkling your nose, you pull away, he laughs. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Says the Queen of Drama,” you snap back, sticking your tongue. “Also you can’t convince me that this tastes good.” 

“Hey I never said it tasted good, I said it’ll get us high as fuck.” 

“Those were your exact words,” you mutter, leaning back. “So what now? We just wait for the hit?” 

“Pretty much.” Your eyes follow him as he nestles closer, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. A shudder runs up your spine, an involuntary sound escapes your throat. He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. Easy on the eyes. 

He lays a palm over your tight, spreads his fingers. Another shudder. “You like it when I touch you?” 

It’s phrased as a question but, for some reason, you don’t feel like he needs an answer. His thumb begins to draw shallow lines, up and down, over and over. Slick gathers between your legs and without a second thought, you instinctively rub them together. You start to feel it then, the delightful buzz from mother nature. A giggle rises from your throat. 

“This feels really good,” you say, he gently presses his nails down, liquid heat drips from your spine. 

“Which one?” 

You think you don’t understand what he means, but you do. “Both. Both feel good.” 

“Good,” he mutters, his voice dropping. “Come’ere. Let me make you feel even better.” 

He tugs you along until you’re firmly seated on his lap, without a second thought you roll down your hips, feeling the hard line of his cock. Your breath hitches, a tiny moan escaping. Dieter grins as his hands dances along your arms, only stopping to pull you down against his clothed cock. You gasp, a buzzing sensation shooting up your spine. You feel his soft lips on your chin, he nips the skin softly before traveling further down to take a hearty bite from your neck. 

Your hips twitch, your eyes rolling back, “F–Fuck, Dieter—” 

“Feels really good huh?” he licks the salt of your skin, more slick gathers between your legs, your cunt pulsing with need and want. “You’re so sweet—tell me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The words are caught in your throat, your body a live wire as it becomes nothing but melted metal underneath Dieter’s touch, only for him to mold. 

His hands sneak underneath your shirt and with one swift motion, he pulls it off, leaving you in nothing but your bra. You expect him to rip the lace off with the same hunger but instead, he holds the cups and tugs them down, exposing your breasts. He dips down mouth open wide, he sucks a hard nipple into his mouth and moans, his hips sharply thrust up. 

Your eyes flutter closed, he feels too good, every patch of skin tingling. He sucks hard as he rolls his hips over and over, making you feel every inch that you don’t have inside of you. Some part of your heart feels rage for that. You want him. Every inch of him. His fingers begin to play with the other nipple. 

“Tell me what I want to hear baby, or else I’m stopping.” 

“You’re amazing,” you gasp. “I can’t get enough of this…this feeling. Fuck, Dieter—I—I need—” 

His mouth is flush against your ear, you shudder, “I can feel how soaked you are through your sweats, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need.” Momentarily you let out a breath of relief, he would give you what you want, what you need— “Too bad you’re not getting it until I make you come like this first.” 

It’s almost as if someone dropped an icy bucket of water over your head. It clashes with the agonizing warmth he’s making you feel, a cry ripping from your throat, he smiles. 

“W-What? What?” 

“I know this feeling, have experienced it myself,” Dieter grins. “Sit still and enjoy the ride, sweetheart.” 

You choke on a whimper, buckling down against him. Dieter continues his torturous movements, his lips now biting and nipping at your neck while his hands wander down to your soaked sweats. He pulls them down, exposing your throbbing clit to the cool air. Without hesitation, he tightens his fingers around it, his movements hard and fast. 

You can't contain the moans and gasps that escape your lips, your body trembling with pleasure. Dieter's lips move to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers work you into a frenzy. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building up within you. 

Suddenly, he stops, leaving you panting and desperate for release. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Let me come, please. Please Dieter.” 

Your begging is getting closer and closer to sounding like dying whispers, tiny dots are starting to appear. You’re on the verge of passing out, in ways you’ve never thought someone could pleasure you. Hypnotized by his eyes and his hand movements as he plugs away yet you can’t help but think about how you’re stuck on pause, yet he looks like he could keep on going. 

"Is that all it takes to get you going?" Dieter's voice is low, his lips red and plump from kissing every patch of skin. He looks at you with a sense of satisfaction, like he's accomplished something great. "I can make you come just from touching you like this."

You moan in frustration, unable to form words as you try to push your hips forward, seeking any sort of relief. Dieter laughs, a dark and hungry sound that reverberates through your body. "I told you, baby, you're not getting to the fun part until you come like this first."

"Dieter, please," you whimper, your voice laced with need. 

He simply grins and stands up, taking you with him. He leads you to the bedroom, pushing you down on the bed before crawling over you, his eyes dark with desire.

"I want to taste you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. 

He lowers himself between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit and causing you to writhe beneath him. His tongue moves expertly, teasing and flicking until you can't take it anymore. With a loud cry, you come undone, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. 

Dieter keeps lapping up your wetness, making sure to draw out every last drop of pleasure from you. When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless and sated.

As you lay there, panting and trying to catch your breath, Dieter cuddles up next to you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. 

"Wow," you say finally, still trying to recover from the intense pleasure he just gave you. "That was...amazing."

"Remind me to get high with you more often," you laugh, finally able to form coherent words.

"Oh, I will definitely be reminding you," Dieter grins, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "But for now, let's just enjoy this high and each other's company."

With a sly smile, you roll on top of him, ready for round two. Dieter's playful smirk mirrors your own as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for another kiss.

You can't help but think that this was just the beginning of a wild, passionate, and exciting journey with Dieter by your side. And you couldn't wait to see where it would take you next.

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[syoddeye]

useless, part two

Part Two of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Unfortunately I got carried away with this part, so I haven't used my third prompt yet. But that just means a Part Three is coming.

You could argue this fits 95. Attending an event together...

Read Part One. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Enjoy!

The ice bites through the steel shaker, your fingers sting, and the noise is a tick too loud, but both are decent distractions while you figure out what to say. In the corner of your eye, John watches with an amused look, tempting your elbow to somehow find his chin. When you finally stop, popping the cap to strain the vodka and vermouth, of course, he's already prepared with a snarky comment.

"Did it owe you money?"

"Yeah," you say, pulling an olive from a jar and dunking it into the glass. "Be glad you don't." 

John leans on the counter beside you. "I'd hate to cross you."

"That's new," you retort, savoring both his mildly confused look and the drink. "They feed you growth hormones in the army?"

He laughs. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

You suppress a smile behind your glass and cross an arm over your front. "Are you back for long?"

His laughter peters out, and he shakes his head. "Nah, I leave tomorrow night."

"Mm," The noncommittal masks your wilting. You study John's face in the half-second pause. Since stepping foot in the house, no, since hearing about this soiree yesterday, he's plagued your thoughts. All those hours spent in each other's company for the better part of a year. That dumb fight resurfaces. You're not going to amount to anything! Classic John to prove you wrong. The jerk. 

"My mom told me you're doing well for yourself. You graduated something early? That you got into the SAS or whatever?"

"'Whatever'?" John scoffs, turning to face you better, enunciating each word as if you can't recite As You Like It by memory. "Yes. I'm doing well. You're looking at Lieutenant John Price, I'll have you know."

You arch an eyebrow. You know, in your gut, it is impressive. How or why is a mystery; it just is. Zero chance you'll let him know that. "And that's a big deal?"

"To some people."

"Well, I'm not 'some people'." You say with a tilt of your head.

"No, you're not," He answers a mite quieter before taking another swig and straightening. "Rumor mill says I'm looking at another promotion, maybe next year."

"What'll your title, er, rank be then?"

He smirks. "Captain."

You nod as if this again means something to you, a foreign civilian, and make a show of it. "Right," Your eyes hold each other in place in his parent's kitchen. A balloon of silence begs to be popped, for a decade's worth of fleeting memories and games of telephone through your mothers, to burst and ease the tension. And it's so typical, so John, that he hasn't even asked about y–

"And how're you faring?"

Stunning. Fucking karmic.

You can't stop yourself. "Oh, look at you, John Price. Did the army also finally teach you how to hold conversations?"

His eyes narrow a fraction, and that quizzical pinching of his brow returns. His lips part to speak, but a commotion at the entrance to the kitchen draws your attention. A pair of older men meander in, pink-faced and glassy-eyed, slurring the words to Auld Lang Syne two and a half hours too early. You take it for what it surely is, an out, and slip away. 

John's parents are eager enough to receive you in the crowded living room and return to their fawning. You'd rather wade through another stint of stilted conversation with their questions about your credits stateside or reminisce about embassy days than suffer John pretending to give a shit regarding your useless career.

You dance around speaking to him again, politely finding ways to dip in and out of conversations he thrusts himself into. The practice leverages all parts of your acting career and what you remember of the education your mother gave you. Smile, nod, ask leading questions, and watch for the interloper. It pays off, as John seems to eventually get the hint and fades into the background of the party.

When the clock strikes half past eleven and some ex-policy advisor nearly spills his ale on you, you decide it's time to sneak out. You've overstayed your allotted time. John's nowhere in sight, most guests are deep within their cups, and the giddiness of the impending countdown is palpable. It's easy enough to step into the front hall unseen without an ounce of guilt in your veins. You came, you saw, you drank expensive vodka, and made nice with your mother's friends.

Buttoning your coat, you step out into the night's chill and start down the steps. You're two paces from the garden gate when a man's voice pushes into your ear.

"Goin' somewhere?"

The two courses of stage combat you've completed guide your hand in a flat chop to the offending jugular. The owner of said jugular, however, catches the blow with an arm, then laughs, a rich and deep sound, to drive the humiliation home.

"John, Jesus Christ, you complete asshole!" You hiss, turning to shove the man standing in the shadows behind you. 

"There she is," He cracks, still chuckling. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah right, you absolute-"

"Arse?" His hands rise in defense when you glare, the glow of a cigar catching your eye before he lowers it to his mouth for a puff. It's a moment before his mouth opens, the tobacco scent permeating the short distance between you. "Just out for a smoke."

Wrinkling your nose, you sigh. "That is awful for your health."

"So's my line of work," He counters.

"Fair point."

"Glad you think so."

You stare at him again. Admittedly, it's hard not to. Even in the dark, the glint of his steady gaze tethers. Maybe it's the military thing—like he's learned to restrain people without touching them. It must be because it couldn't be anything else. A shiver compels you to speak. "I have to get going."

"So close to the bell?"

"I need to prepare for an audition," You lie. There is no audition. The only thing waiting for you at home is an inherited prompt book for Kiss Me Kate to work on.

"I'll walk you to the station."

"You don't need to do that."

John corrals you toward the gate, his accompaniment apparently a foregone conclusion, and holds it open as you pass. "C'mon. It's been ten years. You used to escort me all the time."

You huff. "That was security, not me."

"You were always in the car, weren't you?"

John sticks to your side despite your protests, which last for all of one street. You slip once, and his arm offers itself immediately, which you take only for stability. Beneath the layers, his muscle is firm and a sure thing, unchallenged by your leaning on it. He's always been strong. 

"Is there a reason you avoided me all night?" he asks suddenly, showing you the small mercy of keeping his eyes trained forward.

The walk is slick, and you realize that a minute too late, his arm is both a gentlemanly safeguard and a leash.

"I didn't avoid you."

"No, you just ran off again before I could talk to you."

Ran off again. The lout remembers. Has to.

"Fine. I wasn't in the mood to be reminded of my failures."

He scoffs, arm flexing to squeeze your hand. "You weren't a failure. Furthest thing from it."

"I'm not talking about school, John," you snap, exasperated. You regret ever wishing he'd inquire after you. "I don't—I don't want to talk about that." You see him glance in your periphery and then search the air for a way forward. You provide it.

"So, Captain. That's a big deal." As much as it kills you, it's easier to speak of his successes. "Bet your parents are over the moon."

John sighs. "They're thrilled."

"You do anything particularly insane to earn it?"

"Can't tell you," he answers automatically, a notch more serious, his cigar adding a touch of drama.

You pat his arm. "You'd have to kill me?"

"Something like that."

A few minutes pass in silence. Muffled music and cheers trickle through open windows on either side of the streets. Midnight rapidly approaches, as does the station.

"You seeing anyone?"

Oof. Maybe you should've spoken about your failing acting career. At least that had some color and excitement.

"No. My boyfriend, uh, ex-boyfriend ended things a week ago."

John stops, gently tugging when you nearly stumble. His expression is difficult to read between lampposts, but his tone suggests contempt. "At Christmas?" 

You want to laugh at his incredulity, the pure scandal in his voice. But you don't. He's gone all serious again. "Two days before, actually. It's alright though," you nudge him to walk again. "It wasn't anything serious."

It's the truth. Jeff was a middling boyfriend. He was never going to go the distance. He'd been a half-decent romp and someone to drink with. 

"Well he seems like a serious idiot."

"I won't fight you on that," you shrug. "And you, Captain? I bet you must beat them off with a stick in uniform."

He chuckles, releasing smoke. "I'm not a Captain yet. And I'm too busy."

"You'll make Captain," you say a little too quickly, too confidently, snapping your focus back to the stairs to the station ahead. "I can make it from here."

John seems to consider it. He's quiet before he snuffs out his cigar on a bin. "I'll walk down with you."

You descend the steps arm in arm, passing a giggling, buzzed couple on their way up.

"It's a shame you're leaving before midnight, Cinderella," John teases as you stroll slowly into the virtually empty tunnel. His head is on a swivel. Ever the soldier, apparently.

The ground is dry and even below street level. There's no need to keep his arm.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not stick around to see everything turn back into pumpkins," you check the time. The train is due at 12:02 AM.

John seems almost on edge as he looks around. You feel a slight, frenetic energy reverberating where your arms touch, mismatching the absolute rigidity of his bearing. His eyes are wilder when they meet yours, and his head dips slightly.

You frown. "What's wrong?"

"It's good luck to kiss somebody at midnight." He all but blurts out.

Your hold on his arm loosens, but he grips back firmer. "That's what's got you in a tizzy?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to need all the luck I can get this next year."

What is he going on about? His promotion? You're unsure if you like how he's looking at you. "John—"

A trio on the platform starts counting down some distance away, but the sound carries.

"Please." It's earnest. It's certain.

You bite your cheek, searching for any hint of this being a joke. "Just a friendly peck." you clarify.

"'Course." He reels you in, eyes half-lidded, closing in suddenly with a barely held-back urgency.

A hand cupping the back of your head knocks a gasp out of you. "It doesn't change anything." You quickly add.

"Not a thing."

Cheers erupt down the platform, but you barely hear them over the roar of blood in your ears. John's mouth is a force. It's earnest. It's certain. It was never going to be a friendly peck. You've kissed many people on stage and off, but never quite like this.

The train's rumbling knocks you back into reality. You're both breathing heavier. John's eyes darken with a hungry look, and everything in his posture suggests he's after more. Your name slips from his mouth like a command.

"Stay," he orders.

But you're not a soldier. You've never even played one. You're not equipped to face whatever this is—what that was. The doors to the car open behind you, and his eyes flicker toward them as if to will them shut. You shake your head imperceptibly.

"Happy New Years, John."

You step into the train, a coward. You don't look back to see if he watches the train depart, but you know he does.

It's another fourteen years before you see John Price again.

[southerngothicchic]

King Steve's back with some (soft-ish) smut

"Hey angel," Steve greeted, leaning against the lockers.

You looked over at him, already flustered.

"Hey," you smiled.

"So, I want to ask you something..." he began, sliding his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you to him. "My parents are gonna be out of town this weekend and I was wondering if you'd wanna come over Friday night, and have a little sleepover..."

He looked at you expectantly, while you gazed into his handsome face. You needed to conceal how excited you were. You knew he'd tease you endlessly if he could tell how happy this simple invitation made you.

"Yeah, but what about my parents-?" You then questioned.

"Just tell them you're spending the night at a friend's house," he calmly replied. "It'll be fine."

You looked at him, wary.

"We've already pushed our luck with my little visits, so this isn't that bad, when you think about it," he convinced, his hand leaving your side and cradling your face.

"True," you nodded. "Ok, Harrington, you win."

He grinned, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

"Also, I haven't been able to stop thinking about the other night," he confessed, his lips at your ear. "And how fucking incredible it was."

He paused to place kisses around your ear.

"I want you all to myself again..."

"Steve..." you breathed.

"And you want me too, don't you angel?" He pulled away to look at you.

You nodded. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, either, and what you said..."

"You mean when I told you..." he leaned in close, ghosting his lips over yours, "that I love you?"

"Yeah..." you sighed, desperately wanting him to kiss you.

His lips curled into another grin as he cupped your cheek. He teased his lips against yours, until he gave in and finally kissed you.

"I love you, angel," he breathed, into the kiss, sending your head spinning.

You were still coming to terms with Steve Harrington being in love with you, as it seemed like something out of a dream. How could he, the King of Hawkins High, be in love with you?

"People are staring," you quietly said, pulling away.

"So? Let them," he whispered, against your lips. "Let them see that you're my girl."

He then made a show of kissing you, drawing eye rolls from the group of girls across the hall.

"So, I was thinking you could come over around six?" He then smoothly asked, pulling away and partially leaning against your locker.

"Yeah, ok," you answered, dazed.

He smiled. "Can't wait."

He then pulled you back in for a kiss.

"See you tomorrow, love you," he added, before turning and walking down the hall.

You just stood there, unsure if that really happened and you weren't having the most vivid daydream.

Friday evening you drove to his house, almost unable to contain yourself. This was a big step him inviting you to his house, the epicenter of some of the most notorious parties and hookups. Not to mention him openly flaunting his interest in you at school. He already admitted he was in love with you, but he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend, yet anyway. Maybe that would happen tonight, since you could see in his eyes how infatuated he was.

After parking in his driveway, you looked up noticing the darkening sky. A storm seemed to be rolling in and you weren't sure how to interpret it. A light rain fell as you stood on his doorstep. You hesitated for a moment, before ringing the doorbell. You didn't need to be nervous, right?

Steve soon answered the door with a smile.

"Hey angel," he greeted, pulling you inside.

You could barely get a word out before he had your back pressed against the door and his lips on yours. Your backpack slid off your shoulder and landed on the hardwood floor, as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I missed you," he panted.

"I can tell," you laughed, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry, you just looked so good today, it drove me crazy..." he paused to kiss you again. "...not being able to touch you...and kiss you, like this..."

He then pressed his lips to yours and kissed you deeply.

You literally felt your knees weakening from how intense it was. You sighed his name when his lips moved to your neck.

"I'm gonna be hearing that a lot tonight," he grinned, while you rolled your eyes.

He then pulled away and took your hand.

"I have the living room all set up with a movie marathon and I ordered a pizza right before you got here, so we can eat, then see how far we make it just 'watching a movie,' before tearing each other's clothes off," he informed as he led you towards the living room.

"You're sickeningly confident," you remarked.

"Hey, I'm just drawing from past experiences," he defended, sitting on the couch.

"Whatever," you playfully dismissed, as you sat next to him.

He had quite the spread set out on the coffee table in front of you. In addition to the pizza, there was also an assortment of candy and other snacks he knew you liked. Your heart fluttered at the thought of him actually remembering the things you like.

"I forgot the drinks," he then said, hopping up. "What would you like?"

"A Coke's fine, if you have it."

"I do," he smiled. "Be right back, angel."

He leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, before heading towards the kitchen.

You thought he seemed lovesick, with how eager he was to dote on you. That couldn't be though, right? He was 'King Steve' after all.

"For you," Steve smiled, placing the can in your hand.

"Thanks," you smiled in return.

He resumed his place next to you and opened the one he brought for himself.

After devouring the pizza, you curled up next to him as he put on Friday the 13th. About halfway through it, his lips were pressed to your neck, when a loud crack of thunder made you jump.

"Its ok, I've got you," he breathed against your skin.

Thunderstorms usually didn't bother you, but your nerves were on high alert from just being around him, let alone being alone with him, in his house.

He kissed his way up to your jaw and used his finger to turn your head towards his. He gazed at you for a moment, before kissing you. It was disarming and comforting.

Your anxiety seemed to melt away, as his lips moved against yours. You then surprised him by deepening the kiss.

He moaned in approval while pulling you onto his lap. You braced yourself against his chest. You then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped your hands underneath. You glided your fingertips over his collarbone, making him shudder.

"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?" He breathlessly asked.

You shook your head. "I needed something to calm my nerves and this is helping..." you replied, trailing kisses across his cheek.

"You know I'm always happy to help, angel," he breathed, as you kissed your way to his neck.

"I know, you're so good to me."

"Just wait until later, honey," he began, using his finger to once again get you to look at him. "I'll show you just how good I can be."

"Are you sure you'll be able to wait until then?" You questioned, lightly tracing the growing bulge in his jeans.

He sighed, eyes already darkening with lust.

"You are in rare form tonight..." he said, as you raised your head. "...and I love it."

He then pulled you into a fiery kiss, illiciting moans from you both.

He eagerly led you upstairs to his room. His bedside lamp illuminated the room as you each stood in front of his bed. You shared another kiss before stripping down to your underwear. Before he could pull you to him again, you crawled onto the bed and lay against his pillows. He followed and climbed on top of you.

"I've missed having your beautiful body underneath me," he breathed, against your lips. "I want to kiss every inch of it, until you're begging for me..."

He licked his way into your mouth, kissing you forcefully. You weren't proud of the whine that escaped your lips.

He ended it abruptly and moved to your neck. He left little lovebites as he kissed his way to your chest. He placed wet kisses across the tops of your breasts, before reaching under you to unclasp your bra. You raised up slightly to give him easier access, and once it was off, he tossed it on the floor.

His eyes then hungrily traveled your exposed chest. He eagerly pressed another wet kiss against your breast, before sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You whined his name and arched your back, prompting him to glance up at you.

"Oh, you liked that?" He asked, smug.

You could only nod in response.

"Mmm, keep using my name, honey," he breathed, as he kissed his way across your chest.

His lips and tongue already had you writhing and pleading for him, and he had just gotten started.

He kissed down your stomach, to your thighs, making a point to avoid where you wanted him most. His lips tickled as he kissed down to your ankles. You tried to squirm away from him, but his strong hand held you in place.

" Steve, please..." you breathed, as his head rested on your thigh.

"What's the matter, honey?" He looked up you, trying to keep from smiling.

You glared at him, while he toyed with the waistband of your panties.

"Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you," he continued, his voice dripping with lust.

You took a moment to answer him, as he glided his finger across your stomach.

"I just want you," you finally replied, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair.

His eyes met yours and you realized you didn't need to question his feelings for you anymore, as they were genuine.

He flashed a smile before pulling your panties down your thighs. He then placed his hands on your legs, making sure you were spread wide for him.

"Oh, angel..." he sighed, before positioning his head perfectly between your thighs. "You're so fucking pretty."

You whimpered as his tongue lapped at you.

"I've been dying to taste you again, and fuck, it's so sweet," he panted, in between languid licks and kisses.

His nose pressed against that sensitive bundle of nerves, while he fucked you with his tongue.

You ran your hands through his hair again, pulling slightly when he slipped two fingers inside you.

You alternated between gasps and sighs of his name, making him moan into you. His grasp on your legs began to slip when they started to tremble. He then slowly pulled his fingers out of you, sucking on them, while sitting up, on his knees.

He looked at you, already a whimpering mess and grinned.

"Try not to look so fucking smug," you said, voice ragged.

"I can't help it," he began, crawling up your body until his face was hovering over yours. "Your pussy's too sweet...I could lick you for hours..." He then pressed his lips to yours, eager for you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You didn't want to admit how hot it was, because it still felt so dirty.

"And you'd let me, wouldn't you, angel?"

"Y-Yes," you breathily answered, in between kisses.

He smiled against your lips before sitting up to take off his underwear. Once he kicked them off his feet, he leaned over you. He nestled himself between your legs and pressed another lustful kiss to your lips.

You sighed delicately as he eased himself into you. He then moaned against your lips as he pushed all the way in.

You gasped at how deep he was, prompting him to say, "Y'know, you're the only girl that can take me this deep."

Your mind was hazy as you processed his admission.

"It only makes me love you more..." he breathed, before pulling back out, only to slowly thrust into you.

"S-Steve, I-"

"I'm going to take my time...appreciating...savoring you tonight," he continued, while you combed your fingers through his now sweaty, tousled hair. "How's that sound, angel?"

"Good, so good..." you sighed, squeezing your eyes closed and wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Look at me," he softly instructed. "I wanna see those beautiful eyes."

You slowly opened them and settled your dreamy gaze on him.

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous," he breathily lamented, before kissing you.

"And you're all mine..."

"I'm yours," you echoed.

"Ah, fuck..." he breathed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. "You always feel so fucking good..."

He pressed kisses to your neck as you raised your hips to meet his thrusts.

"I need more, please..." you begged.

"You're even prettier when you beg," he said, lowly, raising his head so his eyes could meet your gaze. "What do you need, angel?"

His lips ghosted over your cheek as you replied, "Faster, please..."

He smiled darkly, before thrusting in and out of you faster. You whimpered his name as the rush of pleasure was almost too much.

"Is this better? Is this what you needed?" He breathlessly asked, as his hips snapped against yours.

You nodded, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"You want me to be the only one who makes you feel this good, right?"

"Y-Yes," you choked out.

"I love you, so much, angel," he then breathed, his lips now at your ear.

That's when you finally came undone around him.

"Oh, Steve...I love you, too!" You practically screamed as your orgasm washed over you.

Your profession of love sent him over the edge. His grunts and sighs of your name filled your ears, before he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

He waited until you each caught your breath to carefully pull out of you and lay next to you. He snaked his arm around you and pulled your sweaty bodies back together.

"Before you ask, I meant what I said," you began, "I love you, Steve Harrington."

You smiled and watched as his lips curled into one.

"What? No smart-ass comeback?" You then asked, teasingly.

He responded by pulling you into a kiss. It was soft and full of love.

"What do you say we make this official?" He quietly asked, against your lips.

"Against my better judgment, I'll happily be your girlfriend," you smiled.

He softly laughed. "Just shut up and kiss me."

[lovebvni]

intuitive messages pac !!

THIS IS FROM 2023!! BE FOREWARNED

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│ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ...

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[ 🖊 ] created ⋮ 7.31.23

[  ] published ⋮  7.31.23

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ Arsyn   ⋆  ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

┊       ⋆     welcome to my blog !

┊     °

hello earthlings, its been a while since i've done a pac, mainly because of MANY personal issues - but thats not important. i thought for a while and went back to my old pac's and i found an older one i made and i remembered, my intuition is just as powerful as ever - so why do i need tarot cards now?

today i'm just going to have 10 messages/sentences the universe wants you to hear. they can be specific or general.  remember, take everything can be taken with a grain of salt, and your future can be changed. you are in control.

now please, find your inner peace, connect to your soul.

understand these messages were meant to find you, and see what is left for you.

inhale, exhale, and pick a pile

Pile 1 - Watching

confirmation :

procrastinating, pushing things off, turning the other cheek, tumblr, the colour purple (show or the actual colour), spacing out, spirits, double meaning, two faced, gemini, hidden meanings/words, red eyes (tired, puffy), burnt out, music, 'good night, sleep tight, don't let the demons fight.', the letter s, sharks, 'the grass is greener'.

side note : the month of august (summer in general) be significant for your shifting/spiritual journey.

Your messages

1. Why would you wait when you could just grab at it? It's right there. Don't let it rot.

2. "Hello? Are you there, listening? Listen to me. I'm here to help. I promise." (this could be an inner voice or a spirit guide)

3. Be your own boss. Keep going.

4. Pass on to the next step (Death to life)

5. You know what's there, talk to it. "I wont hurt you."

6. Listen, don't speak.

7. Let it go. Be like Elsa, don't let it bother you anymore.

8. Mind, Body and Soul. You're in harmony. Use it to your advantage.

9. Advise and criticize. And use the same techniques on yourself.

10. Peace and love. You deserve it. You know you do. And you will find it, soon.

Pile 2 - Renew

conformation :

saiki k, giving up, letting go, leaving things behind, mental overload, 'Jesus fucking Christ', jealous, letting go of that person, shadow work, yellow, outlook, aries, the moon, big lips, 333, the number 3.

Your messages

1. Bite down. Let it flow into your veins, your soul, your spirit. Its part of you now.

2. Is it a real worry, or just something from your past you don't want to let go of?

3. Jail. Time to rest. Now.

4. Eat and care for your physical body. You can't idolize shifting. You're not getting anywhere doing that.

5. Look in the mirror - no. Not at the past. At who you are now. Who you've become.

6. You have the balls. Go fucking do it.

7. Don't accept the truth from other people, find and make your own. That's what they see, not what you know.

8. Her claws. Her teeth. She's manipulating you. Let her go. Rip away from her. She's wasting your time, energy and draining your soul.

9. "I  DO love you. That doesn't mean I'll let you hurt yourself."

10. I am watching. Always. In your good times and bad. I'm here for you. Just ask for help.

Pile 3 - Love

confirmation :

wrist and elbow, jumpscares/ being scared, saturn, planets, fnaf, cycles, broken cycles, love watch, soulmate reuniting, mha (lmao bro idek at this point), drawing, heartache, feeling lonely, barbie, hip dips, trios.

1. Wake up from that dream and make it a reality, you know what you have to do, so go do it.

2. "Beg for my mercy." - This had a VERY sexual undertone... Obviously from a dominant partner or something

3. 'Hello again, my friend! What do you have to tell me now?"

4. You know that thing you asked for? Yeah. It's coming. Keep your eyes pealed (for some I heard it's even coming tomorrow!)

5. Sit in silence, you know what it is. You hear the voices.

6. Pack your bags and go.

7. Grab on, I'll lead you to where you need to be.

8. Don't chase what you're attracting, that will only lead to disaster. (A manifestation you wanted is coming, this is basically saying don't overwork and beat yourself up over it. It's coming and nothing will stop it.)

9. Nature is your friend. Go out and ground yourself. Lay in the grass, smell the rain.

10. If you want to learn, you need the knowledge. Search for what you want to find. You can see it. Ask around. You'll find it. Look, look, look, search, look look, search, find.

I hope this pac resonated for everyone! remember, this will find you when you need it, take what relates, leave what doesnt. remember you are in charge of your future.

i love you. new things are coming.

dont give up.

1111

[sant-riley]

is it ok to request some headcannons with the team? if so, could you do a reader that’s covered in tattoos? like heavily tattooed. even their fingers. right? anyways, the reader is always covered during missions (like ghost level covered) and the team have subconsciously created this image of them under it all but haven’t really seen them until one day reader is wearing normal clothes and they’re like 🧍‍♀️ what? you have tattoos and like barely any skin 🧍‍♀️ IDK I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CUTE NVM THOUGH IF U DONT WANNA WRITE ❤️ NO ISSUE IF YOU DONT!

[Task force 141 and Laswell with reader who has a lot of tattoos)

A/N: I am not heavily tattooed yet but I did love this request sm soooo here this is :) Ty for the suggestion and I hope you enjoy!

They can’t really be blamed for not knowing about the tattoos, y’all are all covered typically in heavy gear and clothing and weapons most of the time. And they don’t question it when you’re covered up even more than usual bc yk, Ghost exists walking around in a Halloween costume 365 days a year. They’re used to it so they won’t prod.

Most task force members have tattoos of their own, it’s not a strange concept but they just assume you have none, they see you covered up and that’s that.

But then one day, let’s say there’s a mission and you guys get fucking d r e n c h e d in water, and you’re in a cold climate so leaving your clothes on is not an option. They need to dry by the fire and you cannot catch hypothermia.

Whatever reason you cover up, you know it’s only logical so you shyly take off your gear, quickly going by the fire while the guys quietly stare at your figure, staring at the ink decorating your body. Yes you’re beautiful and yes it’s their first time seeing so much of your skin but is that a fucking narwhal on your arm-

You have to snap at them to quit their staring bc you think they’re only staring at your chest or at your underwear but soap just blurts out “YOU ‘AVE TATTOOS?” And everyone else nods.

~

Individual reactions:

Ghost:

Ghost fucking loves it so much, he could stare at your tattoos for hours on end. He rolls up his sleeves to show you the ones decorating his forearms, letting you trace your fingers over the skull and withholding a shudder.

He immediately brings his hand up and traces yours back, asking questions about them and how long they took with you sitting in the chair, grunting in response as he zones out.

Asks why you cover them up as often as you do but when you send him that look he quickly says never mind.

Soap:

He immediately asks you about the meaning (if you have any for them). He admires them and thinks they make you look beautiful and badass.

He also will take a marker and draw ones on your empty bits of skin and color any grayscale tattoos you have.

If you were to ever get one of his doodles or drawings tattooed he would probably tear up on the spot. Also maybe kiss you stupid bc wow you have something from him on your skin forever and he loves you sm.

Would design y’all matching pieces, in your line of work tomorrow isn’t guaranteed so if you’re down, he’ll make the appointment for you both.

Price:

I personally don’t think Price has tattoos or would ever get any bc he doesn't care for them but he has an appreciation for yours.

Everyone would think he would be the type to talk down on them but all he said to you was “do you like ‘em? You do? Then why the fuck would I care?”

In between breaks, he’ll casually ask if you got any new ones and that he’d like to see them.

Gaz:

Gaz doesn’t have any but that’s just because he can’t fully decide on what he’d get, he’s young like you and cannot handle the commitment.

Therefore he lives by you and eagerly encourages all your ink and will always go with you to your tattoo session if he’s free.

He’s the best kind of person to have come along esp for long sessions bc he’ll go get you food, drinks, etc while he sits with you.

He always says he’s gonna get one when he goes with but always said never mind lmao.

Bonus <3 Laswell:

Now she's no stranger to ink, she's not covered up but she does have a matching tattoos with her wife and a few small patches of her wedding flowers on her.

She absolutely adores your ink and will not hesitate to defend you and it if someone were to disrespect you bc of what you've done with YOUR body.

She's a mom what can I say, she knows her authority and won't be shy to use it.

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol

@cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfic

[izzabela]

How about the linkuei trio with a female partner who is just a little bit taller than them? Personally, I find it adorable when in couples, the woman is taller. Plus, our boys are also very tall :>

Height Difference - Lin Kuei Trio x fem!reader (headcanons)

in which you were blessed with great vertical length

a/n: something something something Tomas would ask us to sit in his face

ship[s]: tomas vrbada , bi han , kuai liang x fem!tall!reader (separate, headcanons)

warning(s): MDNI beyond a certain point

Tomas Vrbada

- Tomas minds his business when you pick something to wear. heels? lovely, put em on and make yourself tower over him. short dresses? absolutely, let him see your legs

- he absolutely loves when you feel yourself, confident in the blessing of your genetics

- he's little spoon fifty percent of the time. no, he doesn't care ("please hug me like i do you", he asks constantly)

- head pats. head ruffles. mess his hair up. anything involving your hand on his head is a must

- he will still carry you- bridal style is his favorite. thats definitive

- he loves dancing with you. slow dancing especially, the way you look at him as your head tilts down ever so slightly to meet his equally soft gaze

Bi Han

- Bi Han is reluctant to show intimacy in public, but in private he loves leaning on your shoulder when it's just you two

- Bi Han is a confident man, and he would actually put anyone in their place of they told you that you weren't allowed to wear things because you were tall

- you're a good sparring partner. when he's alone with you, he'll probably mention you're a good reference for fighting people

- you like it when Bi Han makes you feel like a woman. what i mean is that you still feel feminine and cutesy and lovey-dovey with him because of the natural masculinity he oozes- basically he still makes you feel like a cute short girl when you're having those days

- just like Tomas, Bi Han will carry you. except he's more than bridal style: over the shoulder, bridal, one arm- i don't know, i don't care

- Bi Han, when not around others, will rest his head on your shoulder

Kuai Liang

- he will always look up at you, smiling and giddy. he just loves to look up and see the love of his life

- he doesn't care, he will be affectionate in public and love up on you like Tomas

- Kuai Liang does dip kisses. idk i can see him doing ig

- Kuai Liang does the thing where he traces your silhouette like he's drawing. fingers gently gliding across your arm, shoulder, back of your neck- he loves that

- Kuai Liang also big on leaning his head on your shoulder, but he does it whenever and wherever he wants

- Kuai Liang does not mind if you throw your arm over his shoulder. he'll match your energy and wrap one arm around your waist and the other holding your hand that's over his shoulder

MDNI HERE ON OUT======

Tomas

- SIT ON HIS FACE. HE LOVES WHEN YOU SIT ON HIS FACE

- i think Tomas can be switchy- dom one night and sub next. he's a mixed bag of nuts

- when he's sub for the night, oh baby does he love when you're pulling his hair, forcing him to eat you out without air, or just being rough with him in general

- "show your mistress how much you love her," you command. his eyes are glazed and lost, the scent of your slick and the heavy air of sex getting him high

- when he isn't subbing, that man will fuck you like no tomorrow. however, he likes to see you on top of him in some way

- "come on, dove," he coaxes you gently, ironic to how fast his hips buck into you as you're moaning and gasping for air as he fucks you. "you're doing so well, dove. up and down- good~"

Bi Han

- he's on top always, but i think he likes to see your silhouette and admire how tall and lengthy you are (legs and arms wise)

- "beautiful," he says between gritted teeth. in doggy, he's got the perfect view of all of you: your ass on his dick, back dimples so deep that his thumbs were practically made for pressing in them, the fact your back was out in its glory. "my beautiful song bird"

- he'd fuck missionary too. your legs over his shoulders, meaty cock pressing into the tip of your cervix as you beg for more, more, and more

- Bi Han likes to bound you in something. hands behind your back, tied up wrists, etc etc. it might have to do with the fact he can see your entire, elongated figure. you like it too, don't worry

- sit on his face too, for sure, but he's more into 69. you're gagging, sobbing even, over his cock bullying your throat as Bi Han condescendingly asks if you like it ("you do?" he laughs maniacally, bucking his hips deeper. "have some then, my song bird")

Kuai Liang

- i think he'd pick you up and fuck you. whether you're facing him and you're foreheads are touching, or your back is against his and he's practically pistoning in and out of you

- mirror fucking! he wants you to see all the parts he finds pretty about you. "don't you see how pretty you look, darling? pretty little legs out so you can see how well i'm feeding that little hole of yours~"

- dirty talk! so much dirty talk about you and your greedy cunt, sopping wet cunt, how pretty you look spread out and dripping

- i think he's into the bjs where he's standing, holding your hands up by your wrists, and humping into your mouth as you whine and cry on his thick length

- Kuai Liang is probably into the sitting blowjobs too, where you're the one looking up at him instead of the other way around

- something something something, Kuai Liang fucks you sideways. your leg is in his hand as your legs are spread wide open, full access for his cock to fuck deep in you

=====================

whew okay finished

guys the voices are calling me to COD i wanna finish all of these before i hit it tho

[featherandferns]

surfs up (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | part of the F.W.B universe, but can be read as a standalone too!

content warning: drug use; mentions/discussions of sex

word count: 4k.

blurb: you meet JJ's friends. whilst Kiara and Sarah grill you about your boyfriend, John B and Pope are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that you've managed to tie JJ down.

The mirror could do with a clean. You look past the smudges and marks on the glass to focus on parting your hair with a comb. It’s freshly washed and wet, dripping down your bare back.

“Do you have to do that naked? It’s like torture,” JJ complains from the bed.

You don’t look away from your handy work as you reply. “You know, if we go to war, and you get captured, you’re in for a big shock.”

JJ hurls a pillow towards you and it hits you in the side before you have time to dodge, making you laugh.

“I don’t understand why you’re styling your hair anyway. We’re going surfing,” he says.

“I always style my hair.”

“I don’t get why. I mean, I never style mine."

Turning around to take him in, you reply, sarcastically, “you don’t say.”

JJ’s laid on his back on the bed, naked save from his boxers, eyes closed, his hair pointing in any which way. You know that for him, getting ready will consist of switching into some swim shorts, pulling on one of the many tee-shirts on the floor (that won’t stay tidy, no matter how hard you try), and shoving a cap over his unruly hair. You watch as his hand lazily searches for another pillow to toss, coming up short. A vape gets thrown instead, hitting your thigh.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Looking back to the mirror, you thread the comb through some strands, encouraging them to fall the right side of your head.

“Your hair's just gonna get wet anyway. I don’t know why you’re bother-Oh.”

“What?” you grumble, not liking how his voice has suddenly dropped off. He doesn’t reply. Starts giggling to himself like a schoolgirl. You roll your eyes, looking to him again. “What?”

“You tryn’a look pretty for my friends?”

“Shut up.”

“You are! You wanna look pretty for when you meet them!”

“Shut up!” you repeat, louder. Your face is flushing hot with embarrassment. “I just wanna make a good first impression.”

“Babe, they're so chill, you could walk in half naked and it’d make a good impression. I mean, you basically already did with John B.”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” you whine.

The comb gets dumped on the dresser. JJ’s grinning at you from the bed – you can see his pearly whites reflecting in the mirror – and you somehow refrain from rolling your eyes again. Okay, sure, maybe you are spending a bit more time than usual on how you look and are overthinking how you’re going to dress for this chill-out-surf-day on the beach…But you want JJ’s friends to like you. Think good of you.

JJ hasn’t let up on teasing you. In silent retaliation, when you reach down to collect a tee shirt from the ground, you make a show to bend over forwards, the back of your legs facing him. JJ groans.

“That’s just mean.”

“What is?” you ask innocently, standing upright again, tee shirt in hand.

“You’re not playing fair,” JJ tells you.

Smirking, you open a dresser draw and shove in the tee. There’s no point wasting time folding it, as it’s only going to end up on the bedroom floor again by tomorrow. Opening the second drawer, you dig through your clothes that have gradually accumulated in JJ’s room at the chateau. Digging out a two-piece and a pair of shorts, you move to get dressed.

“Do you think we got time for a quickie?” JJ asks.

You bark out a laugh. “We really don’t.”

“Sure we do. Please.”

“Are you seriously begging me to have a quickie with you-” you glance to the bedside table’s clock, reading the time “-ten minutes after we said we’d meet your friends outside?”

JJ shrugs, sitting up. “I’m very fast.”

“That’s usually not the kind of thing guys brag about,” you remind him.

Your shorts are on now, and you reach around to tie the back of your bikini top.

“I’m serious. In and out, I swear. Two minutes tops.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

“Baby…”

“JJ,” you mimic. “No means no.”

He grunts and flops back on the bed, dramatic. You grab at another tee shirt on the floor (I mean, are these things multiplying?) and toss it at him. It lands on his face and he groans.

“Get dressed. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Boo.”

You laugh to yourself as you walk out his bedroom, into the bathroom. As you brush, you inspect your face for any blemishes, and your hair for any stray strands which have fallen away. There’s a nervous thrum in your chest, over-layed with excitement; similar to the kind you get before a match.

You know JJ’s friends are far from snobbish. They’re perhaps the most easy-going people on earth. But earning their approval weirdly means a lot to you. Maybe it’s because JJ doesn’t seem very close with his family – at least, he never talks about them with you – so this feels akin to meeting the parents. You also have a sense that his friends inform a lot of his thoughts and decisions, and so if you were to slip up, maybe they’d somehow convince him to leave you. Whilst the pair of you have only been official for a couple of weeks, nearing to a month, you already feel how attached you’re becoming to him. How you save your dirtiest jokes for him and make a mental note of any anecdote at work that you know will have him in stiches. And the sex is better than it ever was before.

By the time you’re done in the bathroom, JJ’s pulling on his boots. He’s dressed in an old work muscle-tee and some swim shorts (just as you suspected) and there’s a cap waiting on his bed. The red one. You smile, sit down and pick it up.

“Think this is my favourite one,” you tell him. You inspect the front and read the branding.

JJ takes it from you and places it on your head, pushing down on the lip of the cap so it blocks your vision. Makes you laugh.

“Looks good on you too,” he says. “Not as good as I look on you…”

“We’re not having a quickie, JJ.”

“Damn it. Ah well, worth a shot.”

You take off the cap and hand it back to him, getting up. JJ’s kicking your trainers towards you and you slide them on rather easy, without having to untie the laces. Then the two of you are heading out the house and out the front door. The butterflies that had momentarily let up in the bedroom are back, beating their wings in full force at the sight of his friends gathered around the back of the house. Kiara is sat in the hammock, scrolling on her phone, and Sarah is half-laying at her feet. Pope is lent against the tree. He’s talking to John B, who’s sat on one of the low deckchairs, eyes closed and nodding along. JJ whistles as the two of you approach, catching their attention. When their heads turn to look at you, it makes you think of hawks fixating on prey.

“Yo. Good to go?”

“Only been waiting for ten minutes,” Pope says.

“Wasn’t it Newton who said time is relative?”

“No. That was Einstein, genius,” Pope corrects.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We’re here now.”

Sarah’s on her feet, walking over to you, smiling with a hand outstretched. “Hi! I’m Sarah!”

“Hi,” you smile, shaking her hand, introducing yourself. Kiara follows second. Pope nods at you from the tree, introducing himself, and John B gives a small wave.

“We’ve technically already met,” he says, making you laugh through your embarrassment.

“Technically.”

“Come on!” Kiara’s calling, half-way to the twinkie. “We’re missing all the good waves!”

“Who’s got the cooler?”

“Already packed."

"Yeah, we had some time to kill...”

“Boards?”

“Attached to the roof.”

“I mean, can you seriously not see them? You do have eyes, right?”

“Shut it, Pope.”

You tag behind the gang, barely following their constant banter, chuckling at the antics. It seems they have a routine. John B and Sarah climb in the front, the former sitting behind the steering wheel. Kiara slides open the back door and her and Pope climb in first, taking the back seat. JJ offers you a hand as you step in. You take the spot nearest the steering wheel – a strange box-like podium that you imagine is hollow for storage – whilst JJ slides the door shut. He sits near your feet, leant against the wall of the front seats. The engine has spluttered to life and the radio begins to play Marley. The gang gives a few whoops of excitement as you set off towards the beach, away from the marsh.

By the time you pull up to the beach, Pope has explained the theory of the universe; JJ and John B have gotten into a brief, fleeting argument about whether Atlantis could be real; Sarah reminisced about the last time she went surfing; and Kiara has gone on a semi-heated tangent about litter on the beaches. Your cheeks ache from smiling and laughing. Whilst you haven’t fully stuck your neck out yet to join in, you’re content just listening to the gang bicker and beam.

As the engine shuts off, JJ reaches down to squeeze a hand on your shoulder. “Ready to ruin your hair?”

Mirthfully, you roll your eyes. “Can’t look any worse than yours.”

Pope ooo’s at the burn whilst Kiara whistles lowly, grinning.

Then everyone’s getting to their feet, hopping out the car, retrieving gear and supplies to lug down onto the sand. JJ carries his board and the cooler, and you lug the paddle board and a tote bag of snacks. John B and Sarah settle on a good spot, just shy of the dunes, far enough from the water that there’d be plenty of time before the tide comes in to pack up and leave. As everyone starts to dump the stuff, Kiara pulls out a blanket to lay out. A speaker beeps to life and Pope connects. Classics ranging from the sixties through to the noughts begin to play, encapsulating the feeling of summer. It’s hot under the sun but not uncomfortable. There’s a slight breeze that could catch someone out with thinking they’d avoid a sunburn.

“Who’s up for some waves?” JJ asks, pulling off his tee.

“Hell yeah,” John B grins.

“I’m in,” Pope agrees.

Sarah’s situated herself on the rag-tag blanket, pulling out a nail file. “I’m gonna wait a bit longer.”

Kiara is pulling out a joint and lounging back on the sand. It’s answer enough that she’s skipping out for now.

You decide to stay with the girls; wait for the waves to build some more. The guys begin to race towards the water, JJ cracking a joke to John B that earns him a shove. You shake your head as you watch the trio go. Searching around in one of the tote bags, you retrieve a packet of pretzels chips and pull it open.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” you say to the two girls.

“What’d you mean tag along?” Kiara frowns.

“We’ve been begging to meet you ever since JJ started hooking up with you,” Sarah tells you.

You chuckle, sceptical. “Wait? Really?”

“Yeah!” the girls chorus, making the three of you laugh.  

“God, that boy is so whipped, it’s gross,” Kiara snorts.

“It’s adorable!” Sarah corrects.

Offering around the bag to the two of them, you frown. “I don’t know about whipped…”

“Girl, you didn’t hear him,” Sarah says, amused. “After you two had been hooking up for like two weeks, he started talking about you all the time. It was hilarious.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but he’d do it in a way that he didn’t realise he was. Like he’d just randomly have to add little bits and pieces about you into conversations,” Kiara continues.

“Thanks to him we know your favourite sandwich.”

“And your favourite colour.”

“Favourite TV show…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you laugh. Your face feels burning hot. Glancing out to the waves, spotting the three guys wading out on their boards, you smile to yourself. You never knew that. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”

“So…he treating you well?” Kiara asks.

You look back to them and smile, nodding.

“It’s so weird for me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before. I mean, I’ve cared a lot for people, but only like my parents and stuff. And, for most people, you’re born with that sort of affection for them, you know? But with JJ…I just felt it sort of grow until I couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe. Laughing in spite of yourself, you add, “sorry. That was gross.”

“It was adorable!” Sarah is practically giddy. Kiara and you laugh. “We’ve been waiting for the right girl to get to him.”

“I knew he was a romantic at heart,” Kiara nods in agreement.

“Wait. Is he romantic?” Sarah asks, looking to you once more.

You grab another pretzel and eat it as you think.

“I guess. We’re not really the mushy-shit type couple. But he’s kind of thoughtful. Does these little things for me sometimes. Like, I told him that I used to have chocolate-covered strawberries with my nana on picnics when I was younger, and that they remind me of her. I don’t even know how it came up, really. But the next day he’d made me some as a surprise. It was kinda sweet.”

“No doy – his love language is acts of service,” Kiara shrugs. She flicks on her lighter.

“What’d you mean?”

“Like, he expresses his love and affection for people through actions,” she tells you. “I’m telling you, that’s what it is.”

“What are the other types of love language again?” Sarah wonders.

“Lemme think. There’s gift giving, words of affirmation…”

As Kiara continues to list them off, you look out to the water and mull it over. You catch sight of JJ surfing, dipping in and out of the waves, weightless like a feather, as if he were born and bred on the water. You’d played down the chocolate covered strawberries story. There was more to it then him just doing it out of the blue.

That night, the two of you had decided to watch a movie. An old classic came on – one of the Monroe films – and you went into this random spiel about how your nana used to be the biggest Monroe fan. That went into JJ asking about your family, and you nana, and you telling the chocolate strawberries story. You got a little tearful at the memory, knowing that you wouldn’t have a moment like that with her again, and JJ made a point to tell an embarrassing story from middle school gym to cheer you up. The night had gone on and you didn’t think much more of it. The next day, JJ texted you to meet him in the marsh. When you arrived, there was a blanket laid out and some snacks and drinks (mostly beer) laid out. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, as if worried it was too much. The two of you hadn’t really done an official date: mostly movie-nights and sometimes grabbing lunch purely out of hunger. But you’d never had someone do something like that for you. Then, bashful, he'd opened up a Tupperware and held it out to you, offering you a chocolate covered strawberry. Come to think, it might have been the most romantic thing anybody had ever done for you.

But telling the girls all of that felt like you might take something away from the memory. You knew JJ liked his reputation. You understood, having one of your own somewhat. The fact that he had done it without being prompted, out of the kindness of his heart and his feelings for you…It made you feel special and wanted. And what other feeling do humans crave from another, other than that? No. You’ll keep those details to yourself. They can just know about the strawberries.

“No, no, John B’s definitely a words of affirmation sort,” Sarah is saying pointedly.

Kiara’s shaking her head in disagreement. “Quality time, all the way.”

“Quality time’s Pope’s thing,” the blonde argues.

“He’s surprisingly really into words of affirmation, in his awkward Pope-ish way,” Kiara informs, taking a drag.

“Wait, I’m confused. Are you and Pope a thing?” you can’t help but ask Kiara.

She looks away from both you and Sarah as she takes another hit. The smell of weed is gradually building. “Not exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Sarah grins, teasingly.

“And it’s not a yes,” she affirms, shooting a glare. It softens, as she struggles to find her words. “It’s a…”

“Complicated?” you offer.

She smiles at you, grateful. “Yeah. 'Complicated’.”

“I know complicated,” you chuckle. “Used to be the queen of complicated.”

“You mean like before you and JJ were official?” Sarah wonders.

You nod. Resting back on your bent arms, you sigh.

“It was so hard to tell where we stood sometimes. And whenever I’d try and start up a conversation about it, he’d get all weird and defensive and stuff.”

“Yep. That sounds like JJ,” Kiara chuckles, a little sadly.

“For the record,” Sarah chimes in. “I knew he liked you from the first time he got with you.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah. He just seemed lighter. Happier.”

“Sex does that to people,” you chuckle, brushing it off.

“No, I’m telling you. He was a goner from the start.”

“Did you forget the sandwich-colour-TV-show story?”

You laugh, waving them away. “I’m just pretty decent in bed, is all.”

“No kidding. You know what JJ says right?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t know!?”

“What? What don’t I know?” you worry, sitting up again.

Kiara and Sarah are making faces at each other, laughing. You confusion twists into anxiety that eases the moment Sarah looks at you again.

“Okay, okay, so we’re hanging out at the chateau one night, right?” she begins.

“And JJ’s drunk as a skunk, okay? Like really wasted.”

“And high.”

“Yeah, and high,” Kiara nods, chuckling at the memory. “So John B asks about who the girl he accidentally bumped into the hallway was, the other night.”

You throw your face into your hands with a groan. Are you ever going to live that down?

“Well, at first JJ tries to act all casual. Says you’re this side-chick he’s seeing,” Sarah continues.

“But for some reason, John B thinks that’s not the whole truth. So he starts pushing at him.”

“Eventually it all just kicks off until JJ lets slip that you’re the best sex he’s ever had,” Sarah finishes, smirking at you, almost like she’s proud.

You’re human. The indirect compliment goes straight to your head and makes it grow about ten times in size. Fighting and failing to hold off a grin, you check you heard them right.

“Really?”

The two girls nod enthusiastically.

“And, of course, we’ve never let him live it down,” Kiara smiles, sweet like a pageant queen.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you chuckle to yourself. This whole time, with his stupid little game of ‘best you’ve ever had?’ that he kicks up nearly every time the two of you hook-up, came from a part of him wondering if it was as good for you as it was for him. If he’s alone in feeling that way.

“I came up with the theory – which, proved to correct, might I add? – that the reason why the sex was so good is cause he had feelings for you,” Sarah proudly proclaims.

Kiara rolls her eyes as she says, “But you know JJ--”

The three of you chorus through a laugh: “deny, deny, deny.”

With that, all three of you are in hysterics. Your ribs begin to hurt from laughter. As you revel in the wonderful pain, you wonder if you’ve ever felt so at ease in your life before. It wasn’t that you didn’t have friends, but you didn’t have a group of them like this. Just people here and there who you could vent to and grab coffee with and such. But these girls liked you, and they found you funny, and they cared about what you had to say. Tied in with the added benefit of having JJ, everything felt like it was aligning just as it should.

Flopping back onto the towel, you smile at the afternoon sky. No clouds and no birds. Just endless, stretching blue.

“He’s the best sex I’ve ever had too,” you quietly confess.

The girls’ lingering giggles pause before kicking up, tenfold.

“Wait? Really?”

“Yeah,” you grin, nodding. He was. Easily. “But you tell him that, and I’ll deny it. I like that he doesn’t really know. Only has a hunch.”

“Oh yeah,” Kiara affirms. “We can’t ever give guys the satisfaction of thinking they’re actually good in bed.”

“It’s like the one thing we have,” Sarah winks.

The three of you collapse into giggles again.

~*~*~*~*~*

“What’d you think they’re talking about?” Pope asks, looking out to the shore at the girls.

The three guys are taking a moment to rest, sitting on their boards, legs dangling in the water. JJ can see you, lying on your back, basking in the sun. Sometimes your combined laughter is loud enough to travel out to the water. He feels like he can make out your distinct giggle easily.

“School maybe?” Pope continues to wonder.

“Dude, they’re one hundred percent talking about us,” JJ declares. “I bet my board on it.”

“You think so?”

“JJ’s right,” John B sighs, nodding. “I feel like Sarah and Kie have been dying to grill your girl for ages.”

JJ’s heart feels like it skips at beat at the phrase 'your girl. He never thought he’d hear someone say that to him. Never thought it would make him so happy to hear it. Huh.

“It’s weird seeing you in a relationship,” Pope says, as if reading his mind.

JJ frowns. “What? Like it’s hard to picture someone wanting to date me?”

“No, you moron. Hard to picture you settling for one girl. Honestly, I was worried you had nymphomania or something."

“Nympha-who-now?”

“It’s an addiction to sex,” Pope clarifies impatiently.

JJ grins, smug. “I mean, can’t say that I don’t have that.”

“JJ. Gross.”

“What? Like it’s a secret or something? You’re just jealous, Pope. Gotta get your dick wet,” JJ shrugs.

Now John B’s cringing. “Gross, JJ.”

“So conservative,” he jests, lying back on his board. Clasping his hands over his bare stomach that’s beginning to dry under the rays, he gazes up at the clear sky. “My girl treats me good. Not gonna apologise for bragging about it.”

“But you do you gotta do it in such a crude way?” Pope almost whines. JJ flips him off half-arsed.

“Never thought I’d see the day when JJ was pussy-whipped, but here I sit,” John B says. JJ flips him off too for good measure, then lets both arms flop back onto his stomach.

There’s your laugh again. Makes him smile.

“You guys like her though, right?” he can’t help but ask, after a moment of quiet. Nothing but the waves licking at the boards.  

“Yeah, man,” John B says.

“Course,” Pope seconds. “I think she’s a good match for you. And your out-of-control libido.”

“Pope, I swear to God, you say one more million-dollar-word and I’ll drown you.”

~*~*~*~*~*

As the afternoon turns to dusk, the beach day continues. The guys return to land and the girls take the boards out on the waves. You revive your chats from the beach out on the water, drifting into new topics outside of boys: like boxing and school and work and activism. By the time you’re walking back onto the shore, the boys have started up a fire. JJ offers you a sip of his beer as you ditch your board. You smile and accept, moving to sit between his legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, and takes the bottle back to have another swig. Sarah settles with John B, and Kiara lounges back, her feet placed on Pope’s lap.

The music lulls out well-known hits (Come on Eileen, Build Me Up Buttercup, and the never-ending American Pie) and you bask in the warmth of the embers from the fire, drying off any speck of salt water. The bottle keeps getting handed back and forth between you and JJ, and eventually a joint joins the mix. The conversation turns easy, light-hearted jokes enhanced by the booze and weed, making everyone chuckle. Sighing, you lean your head back against JJ’s collarbones, looking up at him. He glances down at you, smiles, places a quick kiss on your lips. When his friends gently heckle the two of you, neither of you respond. As he pulls away, JJ rolls his eyes at their antics. Closing your eyes, quietly chuckling at something Pope says, you enjoy the wonderfulness of summer and your boyfriend, never wanting either thing to end.

[starry-miki]

9 Days of Solomon:

Day 1: Stars!

I saw the post on the 9 Days of Solomon from @impish-ivy a while back and I’ve always wanted to participate in obey me related fan events but I end up not doing it or chickening out. But hopefully Ill be able to full participate in the entire event from start to finish! ☺️

Im still an amateur with rending so I’m try my best for the next few art works ;P

Below are my thoughts in the process and progress on this art piece so if you aren’t interested then you can keep scrolling but thank you for looking! ^^

For tomorrows “Prompt Day 2: Nostalgia” for the “9 Days of Solomon” won’t be released until on his birthday, I had to push it back, but “Prompt Day 3: Knife” will be released on it’s appropriate date (Dec.3)

Edit: If the image is blurry please click on image. 😘

Day 1: Prompt: Stars! For some odd reason I was having a hard time coming up with an idea since there is already a lot and I mean a LOT of Solomon fanart with stars (basically his signature staple ;P) and I didn’t want to do a rinse and repeat what other people were going to do cause that would be boring, so I threw a lot of different ideas that ended be discarded for example:

-Solomon siting on the cocytus hall roof top observing the night starry sky

-a visual depiction of Solomon siting up on the roof top of the train (from his actual “Solomon going on the train” card”) and having his eyes and the background show the night sky

- his classic cape showing stars

(Feel free to use any ideas if they appeal to you I don’t mind you using it ;P)

All the ideas just didn’t talk to me what so ever so I discard them, after scrolling through Pinterest for any spark of idea, then after combining different ideas I came up with a Kid! Solomon, first experiencing his first Magic book. I’m not quite sure why I decide I was going to draw Kid! Solomon instead of his adult form, I guess it felt like it would work better this way. Besides I was going to draw lots of Adult! Solomon anyway ;P