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themultifanshipper · 4 months ago

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Could you do ⚫️ with oscar

Oscar could hardly believe his eyes.

He was halfway across the world, in a meeting, staring at the thumbnail of a video that you'd just sent him.

Warnings: Sex tape(technically), masturbation, male and female, use of toys, a dildo specifically, dirty talk, mention on reader being innocent, and slight corruption?

Requested from my prompt list

He'd almost clicked on the video out of habit before his brain caught up to his eyes and he realised you were on the thumbnail, and there was very little fabric on your body.

He slammed his phone face down in his lap, and tried to contain the redness forming on his cheeks, as well as the hardness forming in his shorts.

He completely ignored the rest of the meeting, mind racing and trying to comprehend what he'd just seen.

You'd never done anything like this before, always keeping your sex life firmly between the walls of your bedroom.

Not that he was complaining, you were so sweet and innocent, it really turned him on when he thought of when he'd first met you.

You were so adorably naive, and he'd taken great pleasure in teaching you everything he knew. You were all his to corrupt and mold into his little slut.

But all of that stayed in the bedroom!

You'd never so much as sent a dirty text. Never mind a whole video of you doing god knows what while he was at work.

It was too late now, he was hard. And the meeting wasn't going to end anytime soon.

So he did what any rational horny man would do, he grabbed his phone, excused himself from the meeting and rushed to the bathroom to watch that video.

And what a video it was. Barely 10 seconds in, his shorts were already pulled down around his thighs and his cock was leaking into his fist.

“Hey baby, I hope you're having a good day at work” you purred.

The sound was turned down low but it seemed like the loudest thing in the universe to Oscar.

“I know you must feeling lonely at the moment so I decided to show you what I get up to when you're gone…”

Oscar was throbbing in his hand. He took a quick look at the time stamp, 00:24/08:56.

Holy fucking shit, no way was he going to last nine minutes.

You went to sit on the edge of the bed and he got a good look at you for the first time.

You were wearing a set of papaya lingerie. The bra was beautifully intricate, but it hid absolutely nothing, your nipples on display as your hands ran across your skin and went up to pinch them.

What caught his eye though, was your panties. Your crotchless panties.

Oscar felt a drop of precum slide down his cock that he refused to touch, lest he come too soon and ruin this experience.

“Do you like the set? I got it the day after you left. I already missed you so much I wanted something that reminded me of you.”

Oscar couldn't help it, he took himself in hand and squeezed lightly, just to take the edge off.

You climbed onto the bed and spread your legs. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell you were wet and god, you were going to be the death of him.

One of your hands trailed down your stomach and came to rest just above your shiny slit.

“Look Oscar, look how fucking wet you make me and you're not even here… it's pathetic”

Your hand went lower, to spread your folds for him, just to drive Oscar mad. And unbeknownst to you it was succeeding beautifully and then some.

Oscar growled at the sight, gripping himself harder.

Your fingers rubbed through your folds, wetting them just like he always did, before bringing them to your mouth for a taste.

Fuck.

Oscar glanced at the time again Only 2 and half minutes in? how was that possible, he felt like he'd been staring at your pussy for an hour now.

Or maybe he'd accidentally paused the video to stare at the work of art that was laying on his bed.

“I taste so sweet, no wonder you love spending so much time between my legs”

Your hand went back down to circle your entrance before dipping inside, and you let out a low gasp at the intrusion.

Oscar blacked out somewhere between that and the third finger, only realising he'd missed anything when you took your fingers out and sucked them clean, while maintaining intense eye contact with the camera.

Oscar was about to combust, and he'd also seemingly forgotten about his dick as his hand tightened suddenly and he groaned at the sight of you quickly getting off the bed.

Was it over?

He frowned and checked the time. The video was only just over half way through…

“Now for something I think you'll really enjoy…”

You pulled out of the bedside drawer what Oscar realised with a start was… a dildo.

Where the fuck had you been hiding that? He had no idea you owned it.

You grabbed some lube as well and it dawned on Oscar that this was why the panties were crotchless.

You were going to fuck yourself with a dildo on camera wearing his colour.

Fuck, he was so in love with you.

And he was so incredibly hard for you.

You lubed up the dildo and hovered over it, ready to sink down, when you stopped and looked up at the camera.

It felt like time had stopped for Oscar, he felt like you were staring straight into his soul as you uttered your next words.

“By the way Osc, I had this dildo modeled after your cock, so that I could fuck you even when you're not here”

And with that you sank down, and Oscar felt the air being sucked from his lungs, as if he were there and you were actually sinking down on him.

You moaned so loud it echoed against the tiled walls of the small bathroom and Oscar had to check the sound level on his phone.

You lifted your hips and dropped back down, a guttural sound escaping you as you threw your head back and kept moving your hips up and down.

Oscar spat into his hand and started jerking himself off furiously, eyes glued to where your cunt was split around the silicone.

“Oscar… you feel so fucking good. I love your cock so much.”

Oscar could tell you were close by the way your thighs trembled and your breathing got shallower.

“Fuck Osc, I'm not gonna last long…”

“Me neither, baby” he whispered “touch yourself for me, make yourself come on my cock”

You obviously couldn't hear him, but as if you'd read his mind your fingers went down your body and started vigorously rubbing your clit, letting out little cut off moans on every roll of your hips .

“Oscar!” you came with a cry of his name and that sent him over the edge as he did his best to aim into the toilet bowl, but he came so hard he actually crumpled and had to hold himself up to not fall on the floor.

The video ended and put itself back to the beginning.

He scrambled to turn it off as his post nut clarity hit and he realised where he was and how loud he'd probably been.

And because the universe was a bitch, a sudden knock rang against the door and Lando's voice pierced right through Oscar's inner peace.

“Mate, I know you miss your girlfriend but I really didn't deserve to hear that”

“Piss off” Oscar groaned and Lando cackled before sauntering off, laughter echoing through the corridor.

Oscar looked at his phone and noticed that you'd just sent him another text.

“did you enjoy my gift? ;) ”

It was out of the question to let you know exactly how much it had affected him so he took a deep steadying breath and typed out a short response.

“I can't believe you made a sextape… Without me :( “

#my thots #oscar thots #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #formula 1 #ask #request

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bunnywithablog · 13 days ago

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Hi! I saw that requests were open, so I wonder... can I request an imagine or headcanons (whatever you're more comfortable doing) about Legosi falling for a carnivore s/o and struggling with that after being so sure to be attracted to herbivores only please??

my writing chops are a bit rusty so please excuse me if this feels a bit off 😭 i had lots of fun writing it though!! if anyone is interested in a part 2, please let me know! i think it's a cool concept to explore and would love to do more with this >:) thank's for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

requests | rules | masterlist

pairing: Beastars - legoshi x carnivore!gn!reader - feeling conflicted over falling for a carnivore hc’s

warnings: internalized ...species-phobia??, brief locker-room talk from bill, implied love triangle if you squint

- now this just threw him for an absolute loop

- i mean, sure legoshi has always been more than capable of recognizing when a carnivore would be considered conventionally attractive

- but to actually FEEL attracted to them himself???

- manages to convince himself that maybe he just really likes you,,,,as a fellow peer?

- why else would he feel so strongly towards you?

- it had to be some pack-mentality science! yeah, definitely! 🤔

- but it's hard to ignore the way his ears perk at the sound of your voice during class

- or the slight wag of his tail when he catches your scent in the hallways

- or how his heart seems to stop whenever you look in his direction,,,, 💗

- it's like you were sent into his life specifically to shake him up, it's so confusing!

- so his best solution to this? avoiding you entirely.

- outta sight outta mind 🫡

- sitting extremely far away from your spot in classes, changing which hallway routes he takes, getting to and leaving the cafeteria way before/after you

- it's a perfect plan, really!

- except you don't leave his mind

- no matter where he is or what he's doing, images and questions about you creep into his thoughts

- 'what do they like to do in their free time? they have a really pretty smile, i bet it attracts a lot of people... are they interested in dating right now? would they even be interested in a grey wolf, for that matter? how do they keep their fur looking so soft?'

- he even makes more time to hang around with haru to try reinforce his established attraction to just herbivores

- the only thing this really achieves is sending him into a spiral about how he's attracted to two different people now

- and when you get scouted into the drama club as one of the dancers, it's even harder to keep you out of his sight

- starts making slip-ups with angling the lighting correctly since his focus can't help but shift to you during rehearsals

- the others in the backstage crew actually start asking if he's alright because he never makes this many mistakes

- he thinks every movement you make is so graceful, controlled and confident,,,

- it's a testament to the way you own your strengths and effortlessly channel them into your skills; it makes it undeniably alluring to watch the way you move

- wait! no! it's normal for most carnivores to be good at the physical arts so it's not attraction, just admiration for how good you are!

- denial is a river in egypt,,,,

- this cycle goes on for quite some time until the first dress rehearsal

- "oh man, did you see how good [name] looks out there in their costume? what a hot bod, especially doing all those poses and bends during the dance routine! heh, what i'd do to get a piece of that... huh? hey, legoshi, what's got you all wound-up?"

- hearing bill talk about you like that and subsequently having to hold back from hurtling a mean punch his way, legoshi finally accepted that this was a feeling he had to address 💀

- despite the borderline obsessive pull toward you, he realizes he doesn't actually know you beyond being classmates and drama club members together

- eventually concludes the best course of action is to formally introduce himself and hopefully spend some time together

- figures it's also a good way to see if these feelings grow or fade the more he gets to know you, maybe it really is just some carnivore pack-mentality thing!

- best-case scenario is that he just really wanted to be friends with you so he can continue pursuing haru without worry, but only time will tell now...

enjoy what i write? consider helping with my transition! 💕

#beastars #beastars x reader #beastars x gn reader #beastars legoshi x reader #beastars legoshi x gn reader #legoshi x reader #legoshi x gn reader #x gn reader #x carnivore reader #romantic #strangers to friends #strangers to lovers #implied love triangle

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Male Yandere Human-like Golem x Gender Neutral Human Reader (CW: Noncon, huge dick, golem man, magic, fatal violence towards bandits, spit used as lube, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took forever, was originally going to be a drabble and then kinda got away from me, hope you all enjoy huge dick golem man.)

The small town that you lived in, Somnheim, had been victim to a swathe of horrible luck. Raided by bandits, packs of beasts killing livestock, and enemy soldiers scavenging what they could. Finally the town had enough and sent for a practitioner of the magic arts to aid them in the defense of their village.

This was you.

They didn’t have much but they offered a home and food for your services. You figured you could help them and have a quiet place to conduct your research away from the prying eyes of the council, who liked to hold newer mages under their thumb. It would also just be something nice you could do for your fellow humans, and these folks clearly needed the help.

You didn’t want to stay in this place forever though, so your solution would have to be one that would last long after you were gone.

Given your expertise in summoning and animating the logical choice was a good, old fashioned, golem. A pentagram, some select incense, clay flesh molded to a slate skeleton and imbued with an amethyst heart carrying an artificial soul, some runes carved in, and a scroll inserted that would have him follow his purpose and give him personality.

Then just add in a spell that turned the humanoid clay man into something more human so as not to frighten the villagers too badly and make him able to experience a near human existence.

The ritual was a complete success. Of course it was. You were you after all, young but talented and more importantly utterly dedicated to your craft.

Somnheim now had a mighty protector. An artificial man over 9 feet tall, with huge bulging muscles, shaggy brown hair, stoic brown eyes that gave nothing away, and glowing green runes on his arms and legs. The spell that made him human-like was more than just visual, it gave him nearly all the functions of a human male, he’d be as durable and strong as the hardest metal, never age, and of course he was certainly infertile.

Not one for creative names, you named him Slate.

Eventually bandits came by and decided they would stock up in Somnheim before going on to bigger and better loot.

They did not live to regret that decision.

Slate simply rolled a massive boulder down the hill they approached from and flattened all but a couple. Those he took care of quickly with magically precise throws of average sized stones.

Over the months any threat he couldn’t flatten with a boulder or smack with a stone he would pop open with his mighty fists.

By the end of his first year as the village’s guardian he was beloved by every single townsperson. Even the tiny children, who would climb on him and put flowers in his shaggy hair as he smiled and watched, had no fear of him.

You had enjoyed your time there, but eventually it was time for a change of scenery. You wanted to do more field research and you had saved enough money up with side projects to be able to fund a trip to the other side of the country near The Great Forest.

The villagers were grateful and sad to see you go, but they were much more interested in Slate than you.

But when you packed your bags to leave behind your wattle and daub dwelling once and for all you found yourself blocked by Slate.

He uttered one word in that deep, almost monotone, voice of his.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I have to leave.” You tried to squeeze past him but he was not having it.

“I must protect the village… Your presence here makes the village safer… I might need repairs… or reinforcements… And you also tasked me with keeping you safe…”

You fudged the wording. You, breather of life into stone, weaver of clay, and creator of souls, messed up the wording.

He picked you up like a box of luggage and sat you on a chair in your makeshift study before going over to the heaviest bookshelf, picking it up, and placing it in front of the only door so you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll move it when I need to leave… then I will put a rock outside to keep you here…”

And that became your life. A literal prisoner in your own home.

Your magical abilities were useless in this situation, you were not a battlemage that could explode a wall, you couldn’t teleport, you bent earth.

Of course you tried to tunnel your way out by making a hole under your bed, but Slate had walked in and caught you red handed. He had confiscated and locked away all your magical supplies and texts unless you needed them to repair him you were not getting them back.

Slate was tentative enough of your physical needs, bringing you food and water and taking you outside like some sort of pet for sunlight, fresh air, and exercise. You had tried to run away but of course he had inhuman speed. And the villagers refused to help. What if Slate refused to save them if they did that?

It was a fair concern, he was made to protect the village and not villagers, he may even see them as a threat if they assisted you. You were on your own.

Though you were healthy enough physically your mental condition was deteriorating rapidly. How could you not be? Being trapped in the same building, even with trips outside, was awful. The villagers only looked at you with pity if they looked at you at all, and no one would even talk to you anymore.

It got to the point where you barely eat, refused to go outside, and spent all your time laying in bed.

Slate was failing the magical directives that governed his personality and behavior. You were clearly not safe, he was convinced that you would die if this continued, and honestly you likely would… eventually…

But the golem was not incapable of learning. He observed the other humans to find out what he could add to your life to bring you back to your usual self.

One night, when he was sitting in front of the house watching the humans passing by and holding hands, he came to the conclusion that humans had families, they lived together in their dwellings and they loved each other. They coupled together and mated.

Up until this point Slate had only been directed by simple emotion and the unyielding parchment that had imbued him with his goals. But now his task demanded something more of him, it demanded a much more complex emotion. The magic in him allowed this evolution, and now he was much more dangerous because he loved you. But it wasn’t just love he felt for the first time, it was lust.

Slate’s expression became one of someone thinking about the one who they adored infinitely, an expression of a man thinking about the person he wanted to have writhing in pleasure beneath him, even his normally green runes and brown eyes took on an amorous pink glow.

When you heard the boulder blocking the door shift and then heard the bookshelf take its place as what was blocking your way out as Slate came lumbering in with his heavy steps you didn’t even glance up.

Not until he stood in front of you and you noticed his strange pink glow replacing his green one did you stir.

You sat up in bed and when you saw the strange way his normally near emotionless eyes were staring at you, and glowing, you scooted away.

“I know what you need now! I am so sorry for not realizing sooner…” He said in a surprisingly soothing tone, a stark departure from his normally deep monotone.

“What do yo-”

Your words were forgotten as he took off his shirt and pants revealing a sweaty body and a frighteningly large cock.

“You need a partner to be happy, like the other humans, and you need to mate!”

He sounded very eager.

“No! Uh… I don’t need to… mate. I need to lea-” he put a large finger over your lips and shushed you before gripping your pants and peeling them and your underwear away from you carefully.

There was no dissuading him from his chosen course of action, he would make you happy and keep you safe no matter what!

It’s what you needed.

Slate leaned forward and spit all over your hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit, before pressing his big cock into your hole.

It was so large that you let out a whimper of pain at first, but he was somehow knowledgeable enough about sex to know he needed to let you adjust to the size rather than just ramming himself in.

You gasped and writhed but he held you still with his massive hands running up and down your sides as he slowly pulled you down on his prick.

Slate was in complete heaven, he had never really known much pleasure of any kind, let alone the type that came with burying his cock in someone he was now completely obsessed with.

He had no idea his dick could be used for this at all, but now that he did he would certainly be doing this everyday, maybe even a couple times a day! The perfect blend of heat and softness was amazing.

As he began to thrust slowly, with a blissed out expression as he stared up at nothing with drool coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as his cock caressed your depths perfectly.

Hearing your breathy moans snapped him back to reality. You were finally happy again~

The treatment was working! That settled it, he would do this every single day no matter what!

Carefully gripping your sides a bit more firmly he moved your entire body back and forth on his cock. You couldn’t help it, your whole body twitched with the force of a massive orgasm. The sensation of your body spasming around his previously virgin dick caused him to slam in deep and cum hard.

He pulled you close, holding your head into his muscular chest as he panted, his dick still firmly impaling your limp body. You hadn’t been eating much and this serious fucking had taken a lot out of you.

Slate cleaned the two of you up, bathing you gently before taking advantage of your compliant state by spoon feeding you some dinner he had brought from a town person.

Mating with you made you so pleasured and too tired to resist him when he took care of you, he almost couldn’t wait until you had enough energy to do it again, his cock strained in his pants with anticipation.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x gn reader #yandere terato #my ocs #yandere x reader #male yandere #My OC Slate

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briseroyawritingsblog · 3 months ago

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𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚

𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔!𝒐𝒇!𝒕𝒉𝒆!𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆!𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors don’t interact. Tiny plot, filthy sex, Unprotected sex, rough sex, choking kink, cum, slight facial, etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

Eyes fluttering open as he felt soft kisses on his chest. He was naked. So naked— “Mm..” humming softly feeling warm tongue on his chest. His hand gently cupped your hair as you smiled “Mornin’ handsome” his eyebrows furrowed in confusion looking around the room finding out that he indeed was sent from the future to this reality. A reality where he had a naked gorgeous woman on top of him. “We had so much fun last night..” you whispered straddling his naked hips. Your fingers wrapping around his thick veiny cock. Logan growled at the feeling, he became all hard and swollen in your hand “did we, princess?” he cupped your naked thighs. What a way to wake up.. even though he just got there twenty seconds ago.

You nodded needily hovering your wet pussy over his thick cock. You whined when he stopped you by grasping your hips groaning at you. “Please..” you rubbed his naked chest. “You kept fucking me all night long now you don’t want me?” Logan couldn’t respond to that. He wanted it, his body certainly needed some kind of a relief of course. A desperate relief. “Look Bub, I think I’m not the Logan you fucked last night..” he kept looking between your bodies swallowing. The red angry tip of his cock leaking with pre cum. Your tender folds parting making you impatiently whine “You’re, you just don’t remember it” you whispered hovering above him. Who he was to deny a sweet pussy. Gritting his teeth he slammed you down on his cock, making you cry out. “Fuck!” He huffed out groping the supple skin of your bouncy tits “feels so good Logan..” you whimpered out clenching your pussy on his big cock making a mess on his heavy balls.

“Fuck yes” he rumbled on bouncing you on his cock making the bed creak. You threw your head back gripping the headboard “my father doesn’t know this lo! He wouldn’t be thrilled!” To these words Logan responded only in deep growls bouncing you faster on his cock thrusting up into you before rolling over on top of you. Burying his face against your tits gripping the flesh of your thighs pounding you harder, rougher. Making you gasp for breath and scream his name “yes yes yes! Yessss!” You breathed feeling your orgasm spill all over his cock squirting your juices with a loud moan. “You’re a dirty little slut aren’t you, bub?” He hovered above you snapping his hips into you. You held his hips nodding “only for you lo, I’m gonna cum so hard again” he smirked down at you watching his cock slam in and out of you before he gripped your throat “greedy slut, beggin’ for my cock huh?” Your legs spread themselves even more as he fully on jackhammered into you making your eyes roll back into your head.

His deep breaths and grunts echoed in the room before there were few knocks on the door “keep going!!” You screamed clawing his back looking at the door. Logan scooped you in his arms shoving his cock inside of you as quick as he could before growling biting your shoulder animalistically. “Where to princess huh?” he moaned under his breath taking his cock out of your heated cunt; fisting it in his hand. “My breasts lo! My face!” You held his thighs before his head rolled back the tip spurting long strings of hot load on your body covering your tits and your chin, even part of your neck. His fingers slowly rolled your puffy clit in process when he slapped the tip of his cock on your ruined pussy “lo!!!” A broken whimper left you as you reached your second high trembling beneath him “atta girl..” he sighed watching the art he painted on your body. “You gotta clean it up” a knock on the door disturbed you two for sure. “Where the hell am I?” He sighed again. “Just stay..” you whined tugging on his hand “can’t princess but you gonna see me again.” Pecking your lips lightly he grabbed his clothes. At least the clothes he assumed were his. Quickly dressing up he yanked the door open “who the fuck are you?” The men asked “your nightmare if you don’t move” Logan growled his claws growing out. “Give me your car keys if you don’t wanna wake up in the hospital” you giggled on the bed at his words.

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angelickisscs · 5 months ago

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buying your love ~ blurb ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: ignoring your ex is a lot harder than you could have imagined

YOUR BACK WAS pressed against the wooden chair as sweat began to settle on your skin. The sun had decided to make a sudden appearance during spring, the humid air emitting from it being enough to push you out of your slowly boiling house. It saved no effort for the summer, instead opting to use it all up on one day.

Your friend’s decision to all meet at the closest pub garden being one that a large number of others had shared. A loud chatter blurred around the edge of your consciousness. Currently, the race that two droplets of water were having to see which would make it to the bottom of the glass first was far too interesting to miss.

There was a disinterest that had followed you around all day. Without any warning, you lacked the ability to focus on anyone’s words or actions. Whether or not that was the heart that clung to you or the brown eyed man that was still trying to get back in contact, you couldn’t be sure.

It was a surprise when your friend’s hand ended up waving itself directly in front of your eyes, its appearance largening in the glass’s reflection.

“You alright?” She questioned you with a cocked head. You sent her a vigorous nod in return, leaning forward to grab a handful of the assorted nuts they had left on your table.

Her eyes watched you atop of her beer glass, your every move forced under a harsh microscope. Your shoulders were beginning to shrink inside of themselves, your body slightly falling downwards in the chair.

Though, when you finally looked up at her, they had been escorted elsewhere. Despite this fact, the discomfort remained in your body, making you shiver no matter the temperature.

You took the chance to look around you slightly. The tables around you were full, little had their umbrellas up, most choosing to catch a tan under the sun’s aggressive rays. Shoulders that had browned were now beginning to taint themselves a particular shade of red, including yours.

One pair of eyes were stuck to your body like super glue when you were about to finish your brief search, their familiar appearance leaving you no choice but to hastily look away.

The water droplets race had now finished, a round two commencing with others running. You had opted for the left side to win, mentally placing a bet on it to see if the distraction could calm your racing heartbeat. Both failed miserably, left colliding with the right side as it was about to cross the finish line.

It left you nothing to do but allow yourself to creep your eyes back in his direction. They met with his once again, his collected appearance being enough for you to glue to him for much longer than originally planned.

A white vest adorned his chest, framing his biceps to such perfection it was worthy of an art museum. The cap he wore shielded his face from most around him but the seats he had opted for gave you a perfect view of him and him, you. Though from the way a cheeky grin had enveloped is face when he realised you were staring directly back at him had you wanting nothing more than to be able to look away.

You could feel your eyes begging to move but your brain managed to keep control of them. It kept them in control for as long as it could before it was deemed as unworthy to be making such decision from your heart. Its delicate outer-layer shattering one too many times by that man to concede zero contact from just a smile.

With that, you rejoined the conversations with your friends no matter how hard it was. His nagging eyes stayed on you, pleading with you for just one more look.

“And my boss just refuses to give me a bloody break!” Your exasperated friend complained one final time before your others moved in to give their equally as annoyed opinions. You had attempted to give your words of advice but the lack of information you had managed to pick up had you agreeing with everything else everyone was saying.

Jude had not left you with that awkward situation for long, your phone soon buzzing with texts from him.

You look beautiful. The first had read, not having a moment to linger in the spotlight before the second came in. I brought you that dress.

You rolled your eyes at both, your hands itching to put the phone down and have a nice evening with your friends like you had promise but it soon became obvious that your brain had appealed your hearts decision and resumed its previous role.

you did. Was all you could muster in that second. The tips of your fingers had moved with such hesitation that it took close to four minutes to type in and send those two words.

It wasn’t even a second before a text from him was shooting back. Maybe I could see more of it tonight.

Looking over to him, you watched as he raised his eyebrows in questioning, pushing you to answer his possibility.

maybe not

You slammed your phone down onto the table after that, the strength at with which you do so mixed with the swiftness shocking all your friends. In attempt to distance yourself from him, you had only ended up closer than ever and that barrier you had set up around your heart was beginning to crumble each time it expanded with more force than it should be.

“I ask again, are you okay?” The final words that Sara had spoken were heavily enunciated, the worry becoming alarmingly clear as she leaned closer towards you.

“Yeah, awesome.” You responded after a few beats. There was a silence that encapsulated your table, each of their eyes on your face with such a violent heat that didn’t mix well with the humidity already getting itself familiar with the air around you.

They all laughed slightly at your answer, obviously not believing either word that you had to say. Though none of them pushed, knowing the effect that it could have if they were to.

Sara used her closeness to snatch your phone from its downward position on the table when everyone had become distracted for a brief second. The notification she had seen on your home screen had her jaw on the floor though she quickly recovered to keep your privacy.

“Him? Again?” She whispered to you as she met with your pleading eyes. Within a matter of milliseconds, it had given her all the information that she could need.

Sara had been the only one to know of the situation that had taken place between Jude and you, her investigative tendencies coming out in full force when she realised you were beginning to become more secretive during hangouts. She wasn’t happy then and nothing had changed since then.

You sighed, a certain sensation that not even you could pinpoint running through your body with a cooling effect. “It’s almost sum-.”

“You’ve tried the summer fling before.”

She was quick in cutting you off, hitting your knee under the table when she did so. Her eyes held such an accusatory look to them that you felt like a child again, your mother scolding you for having a random sweet before dinner.

“He broke contact not me.” You grimaced at your own excuse, “Plus, I turned him down.”

“Take the phone back and tell me you won’t change your mind then.” Her hand was extended in your direction, the pressure that she was putting on you in so many different forms had you doing exactly what she had challenged you to.

The phone case’s corners were lifted out of place before being popped back down, your fingers needing a job that wasn’t texting his latest text back no matter how hesitant they were the first time. He had a particular way of weakening you and you were yet to figure out his exact methods so that you could create a good enough defence to them.

Slowly, you span it around in your hand. The facial ID was quick to recognise your features, your phone unlocking to show you a Venmo notification followed by a text. Out of pure confusion, you made the decision to click on it, already beginning to lose to Sara.

Then maybe I could see you in something else?

The text was sent first, soon followed by the £750 he had decided to send to you.

Your eyes widened so far that they almost encountered your furrowed eyebrows. Looking upwards towards where he once sat, the site of an empty chair and his friends laughing between one another introduced itself to you.

It wasn’t long before you realised where he had ended up, a pair of hands softly falling upon your reddened shoulders. His face was dangerously close to your neck, the warmth of his breath colliding with the flesh on your ears in such a way that it mixed perfectly with the humidity.

“I’ve always liked red on you.”

#୨୧ angelickisscs ࿐#jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #footballer imagine

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kafka-ish · 4 months ago

Text

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

#college!art #dealer!reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers

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dearest-nell · 6 months ago

Text

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again.

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour.

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do?

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways? He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours.

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they?

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have noted at this distance.

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you.

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more.

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same.

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment.

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated.

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff.

“Are you okay?”

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before.

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time.

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?”

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears.

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground.

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?”

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.”

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.”

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.”

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners.

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.”

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.”

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two.

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort.

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.”

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”.

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.”

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would.

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.”

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot.

Oh fuck, do I get art now?

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?”

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.”

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?”

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.”

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement.

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?”

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.”

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.”

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier.

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve.

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.”

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you.

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.”

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it.

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him.

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know.

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall.

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now.

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him.

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face.

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?”

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you.

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea.

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?”

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.”

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his.

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.”

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider.

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.”

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good?

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

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et6rnalsun · 3 days ago

Text

𓍼 chris can’t tell the difference between fashionkilla! reader’s lippies…

it was one of the first times chris had come to your house. unexpectedly, you had invited him into your private world after months of acting like a mysterious girl — the one you have to work hard for years to get to know deeply. to say he was nervous was an understatement, his palms were sweaty as he lightly rubbed them against his dark jeans that he loved so much. he didn't know how to move, or if he could even walk on your shag rugs without you getting nervous and rolling your beautiful eyes at him.

your black cat, adorable to him ( matt should see her, his mind said ), was almost more welcoming than you. she started to circle his legs, before gingerly resting her cheek against them when he leaned down to stroke the back of her ears with a ridiculously big smile on his face. jokes aside, the kiss you left on his cheek when you approached him was so much better than anything else. he's sure he shivered, and not just from the cold sensation your rings against his skin had caused.

“y’seem so shy” you teased him, chuckling as you watched him look around, almost looking lost. “different from texts, huh?” you added, not missing an opportunity to dig in deeper. and he wanted to die when your words brought him back to things he actually typed and sent to you: 'if i come to your house, you don't know what i'll do to you'

“i’m just trying to be a gentleman” chris rolled his eyes, approaching you from behind as you walked towards what he assumed was your bedroom. his arms were wrapped around your waist to keep you close in that way, his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

the interior of your room seemed to be the dream of every girl that was interested in makeup, even if slightly. your dresser was exploding with all kinds of products, a large bed that he could already tell was a cloud — to try as soon as possible — three wardrobes that he was afraid to see the inside of. plus other things he hadn't really thought about too much.

chris let himself fall back onto your bed not resisting the temptation, arms spread wide as he sank into the impossibly soft mattress. a satisfied groan escaped him as he stretched, the plush comfort confirming everything he had imagined. “yeah,” he muttered, half to himself, “this is what heaven feels like.” his embarrassment had vanished into thin air like a dissolving cloud.

you didn’t respond right away, too busy rummaging through one of the drawers at your dresser even though he wanted you right next to him. he watched you, his lips twitching at the way your brow furrowed in concentration. you moved around your space with a casual ease, but to him, this was a rare glimpse into your world. you then turned towards him, meeting the insistent gaze you felt on you. “what do you think of my kingdom?”

chris propped himself up on his elbows, glancing around the room as if he were an art critic assessing a masterpiece. “kingdom is putting it lightly,” he replied, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “this feels more like just shit i don’t understand at all” you raised an eyebrow at him and his playful words, crossing your arms as you leaned against the dresser and smirked. “oh yeah? like what?”

he gestured toward your dresser, his hand sweeping across the sea of beauty products neatly arranged—or chaotically clustered, depending on perspective. “that. aaalll of that. it looks like sephora exploded in here.“

your laugh was loud and unrestrained, the kind of sound that made his stomach flip in the best way, his heart already felt full from the fact that you were warming up to him so much. “you wouldn’t get it,” you said, shaking your head as you walked over to the bed and plopped down beside him to his delight. at that, he sat up fully, leaning closer with a smirk that was both curious and challenging. “try me,” he said, folding his arms.

you raised a brow, clearly amused by his sudden interest. “alright, genius. let’s see how much you know.” standing up again with a brief chuckle you couldn’t hold back, you strode to your dresser and pulled open a drawer, returning with a handful of lipsticks. holding them out like they were your damn kids or just gold, you asked, “these?.”

he leaned forward, squinting at the assortment in your hands. after a long pause, he shrugged. “lipsticks. brown ones?. all the same.”

your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d just insulted your entire existence. “the same?” you echoed, your voice climbing an octave. “bitch, you can’t be for real”you shook your head, grabbing two from your collection before settling comfortably into his lap, the lipsticks right in his face. “one is in the shade livin’ the cream — don’t comment,” you pointed at it with a manicured finger. “while the other is sprinkle sprinkle. they are so fucking different, chris!”

he had that annoying little smile on his lips, and he just seemed to be focused on your body placed prettily on top of him. “mhm. exactly the same”

you groaned, dropping your head into your hands as he laughed. “chris, i swear to god,” you said, sounding desperate but amused at the same time. “the first one has a cool undertone, and the other is warm. it’s not that hard to understand, it is?”

he was still laughing as he set the lipsticks down on the bed, his shoulders shaking. “alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “you win, baby. they’re totally different. i see it now, okay?”

“good,” you said, though your tone was far from convinced. crossing your arms, you narrowed your eyes at him. “you’d better mean that, or i’m kickin’ your ass out.”

he grinned, leaning forward to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer. “oh, c’mon,” he said, his voice softening as his lips brushed against your neck softly. “I’m trying to learn here. maybe i just need a private lesson. y’know, hands-on.”

the sound of your most sincere and sweet laughter filled the room again, and as you playfully swatted at him, chris couldn’t help but think that he could get used to it. and you should too.

#★: fashionkilla! reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #fem reader #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo #fluff

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loudclan-clangen · 25 days ago

Text

Cut for Time - Moon 31

Hey guys! New things! Sometimes when we have long moons, there are scenes that I want to show you guys but I just don't have room to do so. With the suggestion of @snailstep-and-her-clan and the help of the loudclan discord I was able to bring some of these scenes to life in written and illustrated form! Enjoy, and go follow the talented artists if you don't already!

art by @mammoth-clangen

“I’m sorry.” Peakpatch tries to look down at his paws shamefully, but Jaggedtail places a paw under his chin, gently urging Peakpatch to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“But it’s stupid-” tears prick at Peakpatch’s eyes.

“It’s not stupid. Don’t be sorry.” Jaggedtail’s voice is solid and comforting, Peakpatch fights the urge to melt into it. It feels wrong to seek comfort in his friend after rejecting him. It feels selfish.

“It is stupid. I like you, you like me, we should be mates! I just… I'm not ready…” Peakpatch’s tears begin to drip, and he doesn't have the will to fight it when Jaggedtail pulls him into his chest.

“I understand, Peakpatch. You don’t have to explain it. It’s okay. I’m here as your friend for as long as you need me to be. And when you’re ready to become mates- if you’re ever ready, I’ll be here then too. I’m not going anywhere. I already promised you that.” Peakpatch let out a shaky breath. He couldn't imagine a life without Jaggedtail. If keeping him at paw's length is what Peakpatch needed to do to keep him alive, then he would be happy to. He could find a way to be happy to.

art by @lurking-in-windclan-camp

Hushed voices echo out of the healer's den, but with the majority of the clan at a gathering there's no one to notice two mischievous apprentices hidden in the shadows of the cave.

“Ah! Shoot!” Dancepaw recoils from one of the piles of herbs, cradling an injured paw, “This one stings!”

Erminepaw peeks over at Dancepaw’s pile. “Hm, that must be nettle, then,” He pauses for a moment, before reaching over and gingerly sweeping it into another pile “Songpaw said that fireweed cures stings, so we’ll put those together. Oo, and the stinkweed too, since they’re both ‘weeds’!”

"What about the berries? They all look the same, so how are we supposed to tell the difference? Taste?" Dancepaw hooks a berry with his claw, raising it to his mouth before a sharp smack from Ermine sends it flying into the dark recesses of the cave.

"No! You never eat a berry that you don't know the name of! Don't you pay attention at all when Songpaw talks?" Ermine's scolding earns him an offended glare.

"Well if you know so much then you do it!" Dancepaw sulks around to the other side of the ledge, shouldering Erminepaw over to the berries.

Erminepaw bristles at the shove, but after a deep breath he begins to hesitantly sort berries, too proud to admit that the task is a bit above his level as well. Besides, Erminepaw assures himself, he's watched his mother do this a thousand times, how hard could it be?

“Songpaw better be grateful that we’re helping him out like this.” Dancepaw grumbles.

“I’m sure he will be when he finds out!” Erminepaw pointedly chirps back, trying to push the creeping feeling of unease back down his spine. If he makes a mistake the healers will fix it. What's the worst that could happen?

Art by @featherfrond

“Hey! Wait up!” Rosehiptree trots up to Kingfur as he slips past the jagged rocks that mark the camp entrance, their pelts brushing as she squeezes through the narrow gap alongside him.

“Everything alright?” Kingfur questions, on edge at the unusual attention. Rosehiptree was his sister Sockeyepelt's friend, it wasn't often that she paid him any mind. Perhaps his prank had inspired the pair of them, the thought sent a shiver down Kingfur's spine. His sister didn't exactly know where the line was when it came to practical jokes. He swore that he still had thorns lodged under his skin from the time she decided he needed to go swimming in a pit of devil's club. It was in his best interest to deflect for now. “Sockeyepelt is sunning back in the camp if you were looking for her.”

“I know that. I’m not looking for her.” Great, Kingfur thought to himself, watching Rosehiptree glance around at their surroundings. Had Sockeyepelt slipped out of camp ahead of them when he wasn't paying attention?

Satisfied with her sweep of the area, Rosehiptree turned her attention back to Kingfur, a wide grin slowly taking hold as ice blue eyes sparkled with delight, “I’m looking for the genius who got Juneaucliff to walk around camp puffed up like a ptarmagin with all that junk smeared on his stupid face!”

Kingfur felt pride well in his chest, but quelled it, not about to let himself fall for such blatant flattery. "You didn't seem to find it all that genius from where I was standing. I didn't think you even payed enough attention to notice."

Rosehiptree rolled her eyes, playfully bumping shoulders with the tom. "That's just cause that's what I wanted you to think. I'm not blind!" Their gazes lock for a moment, before Kingfur glances away, his will power crumbling by the second. Had her eyes alway been that blue? Was that some kind of trick to make him let down his guard? Is there some kind of herb that makes your eyes bluer?

Kingfur takes an instinctive step away from the she-cat, and she hesitates, her gaze dropping as she continues dejectedly, "Juneau's a good guy, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he'd make a great mate, but we're just not on the same page, you know? He deserves someone who's gonna make him happy, and that's not me. It's never gonna be me. But, when I say 'never' he just hears 'not now'." Her eyes flick nervously between her paws as her voice trails off.

This isn't a prank. The realisation washes over him all to late, as Kingfur searches for something to say to her, but caught off guard he comes up empty. Rosehiptree clears her throat and flicks her tail, raising her head once again, and summoning a polite smile. "Well I just wanted to uh, say thanks for getting him off my back for a while." She steps to the side, turning back to camp, and Kingfur's stomach twists.

"Hey, uh-" Having her attention turned back to him once again made some childish part of Kingfur wish he had just let her walk away. But he steeled himself, plastering a confident grin on his face to make up for the fact that his stomach seemed to be trying to climb up out of his throat. "I'm glad I could help, and..." Kingfur's brain was working overtime to find something witty. He wanted to make her laugh again. "I'm glad that you were entertained. That'll make it worth it when he slits my throat in my sleep later tonight."

Rosehiptree grinned again, circling back to his side. "Well at least you'll have died for a worthy cause." Kingfur was going to die right here if she kept smiling at him like that. Would that count as a worthy cause? The tip of his tail flicked rapidly as she approached.

Bolstered by his reciprocated playfulness, Rosehiptree stepped in front of him, brushing the length of her body across his chest, "Of course, if you needed some protection I could always sleep in your nest tonight." Her tail flicked under his chin as she started back to camp once again.

Every fur on Kingfur's pelt stood on end. If he had any brain function at this moment he might worry over his resemblance to a porcupine, but even if he had the mind to do something about it, he couldn't have, as despite feeling like his blood was being heated over a flame, his muscles suddenly seemed to be made of unmovable stone. Perhaps this was a prank, intending to leave him frozen in the middle of this trail for a returning patrol to discover.

"Catch me something while you're out. A puffed up ptarmagin prefferably!" Rosehiptree called to him over her shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” Kingfur stuttered, praying to starclan that his lungs would remember how to work before he passed out. Or at least that he wouldn't topple over before Rosehiptree was out of sight. Mediator heirs weren't supposed to do that, but Kingfur figured that starclan would understand the extenuating circumstances and take pity on him.

That's all for today folks! If you enjoy this I'll do it more! It's a great way for all you background character loving freaks (affectionate) to get some more time with your poor forgotten gays. And it also lets me expand on some ideas that are hard to fit into the comic, like Rosehiptree's complicated feelings about Juneau, which is really fun for me! She's just a heart throb idk what to say. Every man of appropriate age is falling for her. (Except Cave he's too busy being poisoned)

#if you want to have a go at doing art for the next “cut for time” scene #or see some humanized!loudclan art #or participate in something called “fish crimes”#join the discord #loudclan #clangen #cut for time #clan generator #wc clangen #wc oc #wc oc art #warriors oc #warrior cats oc #warrior cats art #clangen art #collaboration #collab

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