#naked song festival

[fayes-fics]

Breathe (In The Air)

Pariring: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, 1970s AU

Summary: A night camping out under the stars

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, recreational drug use (cannabis), body hair used in foreplay, vaginal fingering, blow job, woman on top, unprotected vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (HERE) asking for a sequel to 1970s hippie Benedict, travelling around in his VW bus selling his artwork at music festivals. Sorry for the gif; there was nothing else that remotely fit. The original story is HERE. The title is a Pink Floyd song. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for the beta. I hope you enjoy Nonny. I do enjoy this AU ngl. <3

“What do you want from life?” 

You loll your head to the side to observe his handsome profile as he stares towards the dome of vibrant stars above.

“I have no idea,” you confess, turning to look skywards again, moonlight glowing through the swirl of smoke you exhale, your fingers toying with the tassels of the soft cotton blanket you both lay upon.

“I want adventure…” he declares, rubbing a hand over his bare midriff absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, that sounds wonderful,” you admit, handing him back the joint, that languid feeling enrobing your mind as the THC kicks in.

It's a temperate summer night, and you are lying together naked, tinny strains of music from a portable radio as you camp in a wildflower meadow en route to the next festival. After a series of magical nights with Ben in his VW bus at the last one, you couldn't resist when he offered for you to continue the journey onwards together. 

He takes a deep drag, the tip glowing like the campfire you are lying in front of, before placing it aside into a metal ashtray and rolling over so he hovers above you, warm skin upon yours.

“I am glad you are on this adventure with me,” he remarks with a lopsided grin, the captivating beauty of his face dancing in the firelight.

“Same.” you concur, reaching to touch the daisy chain buried in his halo of riotous curls, somehow the blooms looking more vibrant in the serene state you are slipping into.

His hand slides languorously down your body from your throat to your lower belly, mapping your fire-warmed skin before lacing his fingers into the downy hair at the apex of your thighs, stirring that nascent buzz between your legs.

“I think this beautiful garden needs some flowers,” he opines silkily, his fingers circling in the strands there, petting gently as his brow twitches into a tempting arch.

He leans over you and plucks a few forget-me-nots from the tall grass, carefully separating each bloom on your stomach. Then, delicately, he weaves each tiny flower into your small thatch of hair, a mild tickle as the stems brush over your skin, making you giggle quietly. He smiles softly, your eyes meeting, then both tracking down the plane of your body as he continues to work quietly, humming gently along to the music.

“There… perfect,” he pronounces proudly; a few moments later, 

It does indeed look pretty: bright blue tiny flowers that contrast strikingly with your hair and skin. 

“Even in this, you are an artist,” you quip blithely.

He smiles demurely through his lashes, shuffling lower and resting his head upon your diaphragm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns around your belly button, his breath puffing warm over your flesh. Allowing the jangle of electric guitar from the radio to fill your bones, your fingers run idly through his luscious locks as your mind floats like cotton in a breeze. The moment seems fleeting but everlasting all at once, profound but insignificant, being so small under the twinkling constellations above. It all coalesces into a sharp need to feel rooted in your body. So you draw your knees up and allow your legs to fall open—a blatant invitation. The apple of his cheek presses into your belly as he smirks knowingly without looking up at you, sensing your need without you needing to voice it, so in tune with your body and desires since the night you met.

“Every beautiful garden should have a sacred fountain…” he rumbles, fingertips spidering down again over the floral weave to tease your splayed inner thigh before sliding casually lower, parting your folds, exhaling roughly at the wet warmth he finds there.

You moan; the mellow cloud you float upon heightens the sensation rippling through your being as his fingers circle your clit, his warm lips suckling gently on your stomach as you writhe under his touch. His name is a sigh upon your lips, his movements unhurried but the perfect amount of pressure. He huffs sonorous praises into your belly as he forms a tighter circle over your swollen bud, moving faster now, your hands flying to the blanket, scrunching in your fists as your head rolls to one side, wanting to bite down upon something, the pleasure coursing through you amplified by your high. 

Whimpering as he slides his fingers lower, two breaching your body, desire thick and viscous dripping upon him as he pushes further in your pussy. The sensation of his knuckles dragging over your walls makes you gasp and call out, your body arching up off the blanket, a heavy throb in your abandoned clit. 

“Please, Ben…” you implore, greedy for more.

He shushes you and unfurls slightly, his fingers flexing inside you as he rearranges to press his whole body into your flank, his cock teasingly hard against your hip, using his free hand to haul one of your legs over his, pulled open to his attention now.

“Don't be impatient; we have all the time in the world,” he tuts sinfully, his lips hot on your throat, grazing the tip of his teeth lightly over your jugular. 

Your protesting mewl is cut short by his fingers twisting inside you, a dragging sensation that makes your eyes roll and your whole abdomen clench.

“I could do this for hours,” he confesses silkily, his breath hot on your temple. “I love the look on your face when I do this…”

He curls his fingers, a probing sensation that makes you groan and your face contort, your mouth now hanging open. He chuckles triumphantly before twisting his wrist again and beginning a rocking motion, wringing a sound from your body that, before you met him, you may have been ashamed of, but he lauds every time. Him murmuring how proud he is that he can do this to you.

But it is not quite enough to push you to the edge as fast as you are craving, more of a slow swirling ascent that has you lighthearted and with laboured breathing, your abdomen rippling as all your muscles tense and release in waves, as if willing your orgasm closer, an itch in your brain you need to scratch. It has you pleading with him to take pity, go a little faster, rougher, anything…

“Syncopate, sweet girl…” he purrs, “listen to the music, breathe in the air, float away with the universe…”

Each word is a lyrical wave tumbling from his lips in a rhythm that matches the movement of his fingers inside you. So you relax back, savouring the multisensory journey, allowing the flow to take you rather than chasing immediate pleasure. Something morphing in your body as you do so, a serenity that is bone-deep, riding the gentle waves of pleasure that lap at your edges while his fingers dance lightly upon your g-spot.

“That’s it….” he rumbles approvingly, intuiting your surrender.

He slips down to enclose your areola in his hot, wet mouth, once again causing a spike of pleasure that has you clenching upon his fingers and canting up. A firm hand on your solar plexus pushes you back down with a chuckle that vibrates your nipple, now firm under his tongue. And so he continues the slow, wondrous torture, swapping to your other breast.

You swear you can feel every blade of grass under your shoulders through the soft cotton weave, the energy of every star above you in the sky coursing through his touch deep inside, every note of the song playing reverberating under your skin. A high, so delicate but earthy, as if everything is turned up to eleven on a dial, tangy and bright, like popping candy throughout your entire being.

It's then he swipes his thumb over your engorged clit; you could swear a supernova fires in your synapses, the sensation all at once too much, and with a few flicks, you are clawing at the blanket and his skin, biting your lip, circling that phenomenal bliss.

This time, he doesn't relent, his lips sucking your neck as with a cry that you are sure startles every animal burrowed in the surrounding fields; you are breaking. Almost febrile, your entire being flushing hot, every muscle tensing, your pussy grasping his fingers to the point he growls, driving his stiff cock into your hip, precum smearing over your skin. Still, it’s something you barely sense, your entire focus pinpointed on the sensations coursing through your body.

At last, you fall back, exhausted and panting, feeling his fingers slip slowly from your body with a gush of moisture that leaks across your bottom. You turn your head to look at him, mind awash, unable to form words. His responding smile is smug, crooked and sheer debauchery, his fingers still wet with your arousal, tracing soothing patterns over your ribs as you come down.

“May I return the favour…?” you croak finally.

Before you know it, he is rolling onto his back next to you, an expectant, joyous look upon his face, eyes tracking pointedly to his navel as do yours. His cock standing proud and leaking slightly—a mouthwateringly inviting sight.

He howls, and his whole body flexes as instead of taking him in hand, you dive low and bring his cock into your mouth, so rigid and searing. That tart taste is strong on your tongue as you suckle upon his head, allowing your tongue to press against his frenulum in a cresting wave. He groans staccato, his pelvis tilts, unable to resist the urge to push a little deeper, one hand landing heavy in your hair, twining some strands between his fingers, an anchor he needs as you begin to bob up and down sucking hard, your cheeks hollowing.

The wash of your high enhancing every second, as if in tune with his body—the micro spasms rippling across the plane of his washboard stomach, the flutter of his long eyelashes, the blunt scrape of his rounded fingernails over your scalp, the pulse of his vein on your lips as you slowly allow him to pass through the tight ring of your mouth, teasing him as much as he did you.

You chuckle as he huffs as you pull away and instead lick the length of his shaft with a questing tongue, your hands encircling his base and squeezing softly, enjoying the handful he provides, watching a bead of precum form that you lavishly lick up. He groans again, his head thrashing upon the blanket, the delicate fronds of daisy petals scattering like confetti into his chestnut waves as he does so, his lip flushing magenta where his incisor worries it.

It makes you sit up and stare down upon him wantonly, so utterly beautiful in his untamed arousal. His eyes fly open, glassy and pleading in the campfire glow, pouting fractionally at the lack of your mouth upon his cock, your hand still pumping him gently. Instead, you swing a leg over his and, without a moment of hesitation, sink onto him, inhaling shudderingly at the invasion, your pussy still inflamed from your recent orgasm.

The look of absolute pleasure and reverence that claims his handsome features feels burned into your retinas as his hands fly to your hips, pushing you down flush to his body, his pubic hair tickling your distended slippery clit, his tip rocking into your hilt in a way that makes your eyes roll.

“Don't move, not yet, just feel…” he counsels, his eyes closing, licking his lips and encouraging you, with the flex of his fingers, to rotate your pelvis, to feel him drag against all your walls. 

And so you do, scratch your nails delicately down his abdominals as you stare out to the inky horizon where the navy sky meets the blackened outline of the hedgerows in the distance—again, letting the melodic song seep into your bones, feeling the heat from the dancing flames.

You lean back and arch your spine, placing your hands upon his kneecaps, his legs bending slightly to meet your grip. His hands roam upwards, over your belly and ribs, enclosing each of your breasts in his large grip, a beeline right to your core, already a live wire again, desire coursing in every fibre of your being. 

Then in a deliberate slow drag, you rise slowly before dropping swiftly, revelling in the way his cock pushes you open. A groan from deep inside your being a match to his—throaty, low, wrecked. You begin to set a languid pace, riding him, gripping his knees behind you and staring at the stars above, feeling as if they surround you, tiny lanterns floating just beyond your reach.

“Look at me,” his call is soft, unfocused, imploring, and you tilt down, your breasts squashed into his palms as your eyes meet, something profound in the glimmer you find in the dilated blackness.

Sex has never been this unrestrained before now. Being with him is liberating, wild and luxuriant every time, be it under the influence or not. But tonight, somehow greater than the previous, an inherently verdant setting, alone in the wilds on a balmy night, away from the crowds always in your periphery at the music festival. A large part of you wanting this to be your new forever—naked and feral, entwined together for a blur of future days and nights. A want to live a primitive life of base urges, to feast and to fuck, to be at one with the land, the seasons and the bounteous simplicity of nature.

Time feels elastic as your thighs start to burn from the exertion. Still, you do not stop, not for a moment, too caught up in the tide slowly rising once more and sensing the same in him. A growing desperation in the way his fingers dig into your flesh, in the wild beating of the prominent vein in his neck, in the rise of his hips to meet yours, spearing up as you bear down so it feels like there will always be the imprint of him inside you.

He calls your name, the callus where he holds his paintbrush catching perfectly over your clit as his fingers quest between your legs, hooking you with unerring precision. Catapulting you fast towards a dizzying high again, his movements growing urgent, his jaw tight, so close to breaking. It is barely a moment before you snap again, stilling upon him as you scream with abandon, fluttering around his rigid cock. He groans loudly and, with a few final jerky spasms, comes hard, his toes curling over, his ropey thighs turning rock solid under your bottom as he fills you, a symphony of praise falling from his lips, some not even in English.

And then you are slumping on top of him, his smooth chest tacky under your cheek as you gulp for air, the rustle of the breeze through the nearby trees and the hiss and pop of the logs upon the campfire the only sounds now, the radio falling silent, likely needing new batteries. He slips from your body as you curl your hands around his biceps and snuggle upon him. His long, lean arms wrap around your torso, enveloping you within the large blanket you were lying upon and dropping a kiss upon your dewy brow.

“We can bathe tomorrow in the river,” he hums gently into your hairline.

You nod drowsily, the pull of sleep too beguiling to resist. And that is how you drift off, resting atop him, his heartbeat strong and steady under your ear, the burbling sounds of nature encircling you.

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[little-diable]

The setting sun - Dean Winchester (smut)

Writing for Dean is like therapy, simply the best. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader meet at a festival, a night that ends with Baby's windows fogged up and their exhausted bodies searching one another's closeness.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f and m), car smut

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

Music echoed through the evening, ringing in her ears as she moved her body to it. Her friends were standing close, eyes focused on the open-air stage, singing the lyrics to the songs they had all listened to for the past months. The sun was close to setting, drenching the sky in a pale orange-pink mixture, adding to the calm atmosphere. 

“We’ll grab some more drinks, do you want to wait here for us?” Katy, one of her friends, turned towards (y/n), shooting her a tipsy grin that left them all chuckling. (Y/n) nodded her head as she watched her friends leave, allowing herself to relax for a few moments. She loved being around them and was grateful that they managed to lure her out of her comfort zone every now and then, but nevertheless, she needed some calmer moments to herself. 

(Y/n)’s eyes found their way back towards the stage, she lifted her sunglasses to let the warm breeze stroke her features. For a moment or two, her eyes fluttered close, deeply exhaling to let go of the tension sticking to her whenever she was surrounded by a crowd this big. 

But before (y/n) could even begin to understand what was happening, she felt herself stumbling, pushed from her spot by the broad frame of a man. She needed a second to collect herself, ready to stand up for herself, but as her eyes met his green apologetic ones, (y/n) forgot the words she had prepared to speak. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His concerned voice wrapped itself around her, smooth like the whisky she had poured down her throat a while ago, yet stronger than the alcohol still buzzing through her veins. 

“Yeah, it's alright.” The smile she shot him managed to make one grow on his lips. They kept holding eye contact, allowing (y/n) to take in his handsome features. Freckles covered his nose and cheeks, a perfect match to the eyes filled with a colour so rich, (y/n) was sure he had stored the universe’s every secret in them. 

“What’s your name?” She found herself pressed closer to him as a group pushed past them, momentarily looking at them as his hand found her waist, seemingly trying to stabilise her. His hand felt warm against her shirt, managing to burn through the fabric as if he were the rising sun, set on guiding her through her day. 

“(Y/n), yours?" Not once had she felt such a pull deep inside of her, not daring to move away from the man who had undoubtedly spoken some kind of spell to keep her mesmerized by him. His thumb softly stroked the fabric of her shirt, a movement that would have normally managed to rip her out of her trance, not daring to be touched like this by a stranger. But with him it was different, with him it was everything she didn’t know she had craved.

“Dean.” Neither of them managed to break eye contact, no longer able to listen to the music filling the air, no longer able to concentrate on the people surrounding them. “Are you here on your own?”

“No, I came with some friends, they left to get some more drinks.” She finally managed to rip herself out of their intense eye contact, looking around to watch her friends approach with a tall stranger in tow. “There they are.” 

“Seems like they found my brother, Sam.” 

……

“Normally I wouldn’t do this.” Her whispers turned into a moan halfway through, eyes fluttering close as she was pressed against the leather seat of Dean’s car. 

“What? Let a stranger fuck you in the backseat of his car?” Dean’s words were murmured against her naked chest, lips kissing their way down her stomach. (Y/n) could barely remember how they had ended up here, with Dean hovering over her, with the darkness swallowing them wholly. She could only remember how he had lured her away from the group, watching one of her friends get lost in a kiss with Sam, giving Dean and (y/n) the chance to bail on them for a while. 

“Well, yeah.” Both chuckled in unison as her breathy reply left her. Dean’s skilled fingers undid the buttons of her trousers, tapping her waist to wordlessly ask (y/n) to raise her hips. The groan clawing through him left her shuddering, fighting against the need to press her thighs together. 

“Fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.” Dean’s raspy voice drew a moan from her parted lips. (Y/n)’s eyes rolled back into her head as his warm breath clashed against her arousal-covered folds, making goosebumps rise on her skin. She arched her back off the leather seat as Dean ate her out, sucking on her pulsing bundle while fucking her with two fingers curled against her sweet spot. 

Dean knew what he was doing, he knew how to touch (y/n) for her to see stars, and yet she was aching for more, needing to feel her lips wrapped around his cock. With another shaky exhale leaving her, she gently pushed Dean away to sit back up. 

“My turn.” She didn’t need to speak another word – with a grin that could make God blush glued to his lips, Dean shifted around to lean against the door, while freeing his cock. Her tongue ran along her lower lip in excitement, studying the handsome man she was about to go down on, finally able to map out his body. 

“Go on.” His hand found her hair as she positioned herself, tongue darting out to lick his precum-covered tip. (Y/n)’s glassy eyes flickered up to meet Dean’s, getting lost in the richest green she had ever been fortunate enough to see. There was something to Dean she couldn’t pinpoint, something that left her confused and intrigued at once. But no matter what it was, she wanted to be close to him, wanted him to feel the same excitement she was held hostage by. 

“Open up, you can take more, can’t you, baby?" Dean’s words rang in (y/n)’s ears as she swallowed more of him, choking around him with tears dripping from her eyes. It was messy, exactly what Dean had been desperate for, needing to feel her eager mouth around his cock, pushing him closer to the edge before he’d fuck her. “Look at you, so eager for my cock. I can’t wait to see your cunt taking my cock.” 

(Y/n) moaned around him at his promises, walls clenching around nothing. His words seemed to urge both of them on, making Dean pull her off his cock to shift her around once again. No words were spoken between them as Dean reached for a condom, staring down at (y/n) with excitement swimming in his pupils. 

“Let me.” (Y/n) took the condom from him to roll it down his length, squeezing him once again before plopping back down on the seat. Dean dipped his head down to kiss her, while aligning himself with her tightness, slowly pushing into her. Moans clawed through them at the new sensation, sounds that wordlessly managed to communicate their longings, the need to be close to one another even though they only met a few hours ago. 

“Dean,” she choked on his name. “Don’t hold back, fuck me, please.”

His raspy chuckles filled the already fogged-up Impala, allowing him to add more speed to his thrusts, set on burying himself deep inside of her. Lust was swimming in both their eyes, a longing so addicting, that both feared they’d lose themselves in it. It was calling for them, luring them into its dark trap that would keep the two connected for longer than planned. 

Hours ago both had begun to realise that tonight wouldn’t end with a simple fuck, this was something more, something keeping them connected for months on end. Perhaps even years.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart, let me hear you.” His thrusts met that spot again, making black spots appear in her vision while her hand was pressed against the foggy window of Baby, leaving her handprint on the glass. Having Dean buried deep inside of her felt even better than she had imagined, leaving her skin to tingle whenever his lips met hers, making goosebumps arise whenever his hand tightened its grip on her frame. 

Their moans mixed, forming sinful sounds both would dream of for nights on end. Dean’s forehead fell against (y/n)’s as her walls clenched around him once again, telling him that she was close, ready to cum around his cock. With clashing teeth and tangled tongues, (y/n) was pushed over the edge, moaning into his mouth as her orgasm clashed through her. 

(Y/n)’s trembling hand found Dean’s neck, letting her fingernails claw at his skin while Dean searched his high, trembling on top of her as he came moments later. Both were heavily panting, clinging to one another like rafts sailing through the rough ocean without any destination in mind, knowing they could only cling to one another. 

“That was incredible.” (Y/n)’s chuckles left Dean smirking. He pulled out of her before he kissed her again, cupping her cheek with his big hand. They held contact as he stared down at her, pondering over his words before he cleared his throat. 

“Come with Sam and me. I don’t want to let go of you, sweetheart.”

[sabokunsmalia]

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄; monkey d. luffy featuring: monkey d. luffy x straw hat fem!reader content warning: semi-public, cumming in pants, teasing, dirty talk, mdni!! hi it's malia: don't ask how that thought was created but for me it's so inexperienced!luffy coded.

after another glorious victory for the straw hat pirates, the crew gathered in the center of the capital where the folk had prepared a feast. long tables filled with disparate kinds of food and drinks while a small band played slow songs in the corners. it was beautiful, almost romantic with the enlightened laterns and flowers as decorations. for hours, you and your friends witnessed a beautiful festival. people who have never felt freedom in ten years, were suddenly out of the cage. thanks to a certain stretchy boy with a straw hat, who loved to help innocents.

while the crew slowly split as the members followed their own pleasures of the night, you stayed at the table, in the corner with your boyfriend luffy. while sanji followed multiple women and played their dog, and robin left the party to drown in another book, and chopper already went to bed as he was 'too young' for such events in his own words, the remaining ones at the table were the two of you, zoro, nami, franky and brook. a muscular arm draped over your shoulders, your cheek pressed against his naked, toned chest, you smiled to yourself.

the booze of the past hours slowly clouded your mind, allowing the depth of your dirtiest desires to surface without any resistance. one of them being a certain thing, you discussed with luffy way too often. and you got declined way too often because his reputation was important. it was right, he was right. a pirate who wanted to become the king, had to be feared and yet, you couldn't wipe away those reckless ideas. and with the booze in your system, the courage only started to rise further.

legs thrown over his lap, your flat palm placed on his stomach. fingertips slowly started to trace along his muscles, following the deep and hard lines. luffy did not react at first, knowing how much you admired the change of his body since the reunion. but when your hand wandered bit by bit underneath the table, resting just above his crotch, the captain could put one and one together.

leaning down while listening to another of franky's super stories, luffy's wet lips pressed a sweet kiss on the top of your heart. gentle but also with warning words. "don't, we're still in public, we talked about this,"

oh, there was this demanding edge to his soft voice. the syllabeles suddenly sounding much harsher than anything else he said the entire evening. but you did not listen, not tonight. you followed your needs and desires. fingertips caressed over the thin fabric of his shorts, slowly tracing the small bulge his dick made, without being hard. but with your soft hands, it did not take long to harden. your gentle touch, so featherlight it could never be enough for him.

and just minutes later, your flat hand palmed his hard dick through the fabric of his blue shorts, while the captain still tried to remain in the conversation with his friends. you had your cheek pressed against his chest, eyes not visible for the surrounding members of the straw hat crew anymore. almost as if you were asleep against your boyfriend's body. "just talk, baby," you muttered into luffy's skin, trying to conversate with him, without having them others realise what you were doing underneath the wooden surface of the table.

slowly but with enough strength, you massaged luffy's hard dick. stroking along the outlines with your fingernails, almost drooling down on his shorts while watching how eagerly it pressed against the fabric. the pants restrained him but the feeling of your soft hands already pushed him close to a first orgasm. breath quickened, chest rising while the pants escaped luffy's wide smile. he was trying so hard to not make a noise, to not give his friends a glimpse of what was going on right beside them.

"so beautiful, so hard," you mumbled, watching the tip of your pointer finger dance over his hard dick, smiling to yourself while repeating those praises. words, luffy loved too much. words, which made him cum so easily while being in the shared bedroom.

"wanna feel you later," you confessed, pressing your palm hardly against the bulge. your words were doing much more to him, his dick twitching while the waves of ecstasy ripped through his lower stomach. muscles tensing, you could see perfectly how the captain came in his pants because of you.

lips pressed together tightly, the head thrown back and his eyes hidden underneath the brim of his straw hat. a groan slipped out but luffy was quick to pair it with a convincable yawn and your adorable giggle. oh, you would pay later. would definitely clean up his dick from the mess you forced him to make. with your mouth, hands held tightly on your back. oh, you could not wait to be alone with luffy.

and the captain of the straw hats definitely looked forward to having you the entire night, to punish you for putting him into such situation and for the stains in his shorts which were the remains from his cum.

[chloesolace]

Midnight Rain - Thranduil x Reader

summary: You are an elven ambassador from Rivendell living in Mirkwood. The realm is currently celebrating a victory in battle over the dwarves when Thranduil asks to have a private word with you. The two of you share history, but his scars scared him into letting you go. A decision he clearly regrets after seeing you dance with your fiancé.

pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst

a/n: Another part of my Swift series, where I write multifandom one shots inspired by Taylor's songs <3 the next series after this will be a Florence + The Machine one. Hope you enjoy this story!

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

My girl was a montage A slow motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke her heart 'cause she was nice

In the dim light of sundown, he watched the woman dance. Her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, and her red lips curved into a bright smile revealing her teeth. Giggles escaped her, the skirts of her dress in her fists so she would not stumble and fall over them as she hopped around in circles. She twirled around her dance partner, one her hand held tightly in his as she looked between him and her footing. Her bare feet moved confidently over the forest floor, soles stained with moss and earth from earlier rain.

He was sitting in his chair, a crown of leaves and twigs sprouting from his head. He could feel the weight of it pressing down even more than it usually did, although he was sure this was merely his imagination. His gaze hardened as he observed the man dancing with the woman, their arms entwined. No one besides him noticed but each time they drew close, the man whispered in her ear, eliciting blushes and giggles.

The glass in his hand shattered. 

“Oh, Your Majesty!” Exclaimed a servant girl next to him, immediately taking the glass out of his hand and cleaning his palm of shards and blood. The cloth she used soaked up the red liquid as the girl placed the shards into a basket nearby. 

Barely glancing at his opened palm, he held it away from his body, allowing her to continue cleaning up the mess he made. Hissing, he pulled it away once she informed him he was clean again. There was still a stain on his palm, but the cuts did not appear deep. He would seek out the palace healer after the festivities ended.

The music stopped when he raised his other hand, all eyes falling onto him when he stood from his seat. His blue eyes were resting on the elven girl he had watched earlier, the air thick with anticipation from his people. 

“Do not let the festivities stop. I shall have a private word with the Rivendell ambassador inside. Please, continue,” he said, his deep voice loud and collected. It radiated authority and control, all while he never took his gaze off of you.

You gave your fiancé a short nod and left him alone on the clearing that had turned into a dance floor, just as the musicians to your right resumed playing their instruments. Some of the spectators around watched you as you approached the Elven King, others joined your fiancé in dancing, and the air was once again filled with laughter. 

Thranduil extended an arm for you to take, and you reluctantly wrapped your hand around his biceps, feeling the expensive fabric of his garment on your skin. His scent was clear and familiar; a mixture of musk and wood. 

Neither of you said a word until you found themselves on a terrace, far away from the festivities and the music, which could only be heard if one concentrated very hard. You placed your hands on the railing, your eyes drifting off to the forest in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Thranduil looking at you, his gaze making you feel naked, seen, though never uncomfortably exposed.

“Why did you want to speak with me?” You asked him, knuckles white from your tight grip around the railing. You hoped he didn’t notice your nervousness. He hesitated as if he wasn’t quite sure himself. 

“You have proven to be a valuable asset in keeping an alliance between Rivendell and the Woodland Realm,” he began, his voice lacking emotion, his words sounding practiced and memorized. “I suspect now that you have found a suitable match, you plan to stay?” The words only reluctantly left his lips, and you could feel him tense further.

You clenched your teeth as you stared out into the forest, the sky darkening as dusk slowly began to blend into nightfall. There was a thickness in the air, indicating the imminent arrival of rain.

“Sharion and I have not decided yet,” you said hesitantly, the name of your fiancé now feeling strange on your tongue. You cursed yourself for the momentary feeling of shame that spread through your chest. Yet you had nothing to be ashamed of; Thranduil had turned you down. 

“I see,” replied the Elven King, and you saw him follow your gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He stood straight and tall next to you, silence resting between you. It was almost suffocating until you heard the roar of thunder above you.

You opened your mouth to say something just as he did the same, and it was the first time that evening your eyes met. You stopped yourself from speaking, gesturing for him to proceed instead. With flushed cheeks, you listened and averted your eyes again.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly, the pain in his voice barely audible. Your grip around the railing tightened just as the first raindrop fell onto it. “Please, look at me.”

There was something else in his voice now; he was pleading. When you turned to him you saw the glassiness of his blue eyes, the way his thick brows furrowed and his arched lips pursed as if in agony. 

“I do not know what you want from me, Thranduil,” you whispered, his name on your lips a familiar feeling. You were one of the few who knew about his name, let alone addressed him with it so openly. “I gave you my heart. I wanted to become your wife.” Your eyes momentarily dropped to his lips before locking with his again, your hand gently rising to touch his cheek where you knew he had glamored it. “No matter the scars you bear.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, leaning gently into your touch. You saw his own hand rising, only to fall again as if he was scared to touch you. As if he feared that if he did, you would pull away. 

When he opened his eyes, he inhaled deeply with the greed of someone who had stayed underwater for too long. Underneath your touch, his skin began to fade, replaced by the deep scars you had often seen him stare at in the mirror with disdain in his eyes. 

“I need you,” he whispered, but you only dropped your hand and he let the scars disappear behind his glamor again, eyes marked by rejection. 

“I cannot be with someone who hides himself behind thick curtains of shame, Thranduil.” Next to you, you heard the falling rain quicken in unison with your heartbeat. “Are you ready to draw the curtains back?”

He hesitated and looked away. Now it was you searching his gaze, but stubborn as he was he would not meet it. The silence that followed was answer enough, only disrupted when the heavy rain swallowed it and thunder roared again. You felt as if nature itself was urging him to open himself fully to you, though he ignored its pleas.

“I do not want to fight for a heart that would stay inside its cage when it could be free,” you continued, the words heavy. “A home should not be a battlefield.”

You saw him tense before you turned your back on him, leaving him standing with only the terrace’s roof to shield him from the rain. You began shivering, the feeling of your engagement ring cold against your finger while tears streamed down your cheeks. It was painful breaking one’s own heart, but sometimes it was a necessary pain to bear. 

With a heavy heart, you entered the palace again while the rain swallowed him calling out your name. 

'Cause she was sunshine I was midnight rain She wanted it comfortableI wanted that pain

[musamora]

— 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐 ₊˚⊹

pairing: osamu dazai (bungou stray dogs) x fem!reader

content warning(s): not-safe for work content, semi-public, dacryphilia, alcohol consumption, fingering, associations of gluttony with love, teasing, mutual praise, hickies, nicknames (belladonna, baby, good girl, love)

word count: 1.4k

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

The heat at a company holiday party turns up as a certain brunette decides he wants to have a little fun. Let's hope that no one hears you two.

Snowflakes wore from overlapping clouds, drizzling down onto those that wandered the darkening streets, only aided by flickering street lamps as they made their way between parties and dinners. For many, it was the last day of the work season until the upcoming year, which had to be celebrated with a round of drinks and laughter between co-workers.

The members of the Armed Detective Agency were no different. While they would be on call throughout the festive season, most gifted criminals tended to take the period to rest and refresh themselves. But in celebration of their brief break, the ADA decided to partake in a couple of typical organization shenanigans — specifically booze and screaming.

Yosano was slurring the lyrics of a popular love song, her voice hoarse with the spicy whiskey, leaning against a rigged Kunikida, who screamed at the over-affectionate siblings canoodling in the corner. Kyoka was sitting atop a desk, drinking her non-alcoholic juice while dealing cards in a game with Atsushi and Kenji, who were both squinting at the lengthy rule sheet about the game. Ranpo attempted to explain it to them but quickly gave up as it went over their heads. And Fukuzawa was in the center of it all, drinking a simple saki as he enjoyed the buzzing life of his agency.

But instead of engaging with your other co-workers, you were trapped in a corner, entangled in the arms of the agency's resident suicidal maniac. He was hot despite the frost growing outside. His breath against your skin made the hair on your neck stand up, his nimble fingers trailing dangerously near the hem of your shirt.

You muffled a gasp as he pressed his lips against the start of your spine — he was acting as sloppish as a drunk, but his glass remained filled. It seemed he was intoxicated by something much more sensual this winter evening.

"Dazai," you scolded in a whisper, hands squeezing his own to prevent them from traveling further. 

"Shh, belladonna," he whined, resting his chin against your shoulder as he stared up with a pouted lip. "You're being too loud. We'll get caught."

"We wouldn't get caught if you would stop."

He raised a brow. "Do you want me to stop?"

You froze as his fingers drew circles into the sensitive dips of your waist, knowing the shot of sweet liqueur in your system wasn't the cause for the warmth pooling between your legs. His large hands cupped your hips as you ceased resistance to his advances, melting into his saccharine kisses with little shame.

"Hmm," he hummed, his teeth teasing your skin, eyes narrowing with the mischievousness of a cat as you squeezed his fingers in a tremouring grip, the whispers of a whimper swallowed down your throat. 

The detective interrupted your sensual cuddling as he stood up. You stared from below with a tilted frown, only for him to hush you with a smirk as he dragged you into the storage room.

"You don't wanna get caught, do ya', bella?" the brunette mumbled in your ear, his thumb circling your clit as his long fingers thrusted into your pussy. You whimpered against him, caged with his arms, hoisting your legs from behind as he toyed with your body. 

"Sweet girl," he hummed, his sweetened breath catching against your ear. "You're squeezing my fingers, love. You like that idea, don'tcha?"

You whimpered as he deliberated with deepened strokes, open mouth moving across the expanse of your naked shoulder, trailing blazing kisses across your skin as he reveled in your reactions.

"You want them to hear ya', don'tcha, baby? Want them to know how good I make you feel."

You trembled as he trailed his tongue against your collarbone, breath escaping your lips in pants as your chest coiled. "P-Please—Dazai!"

"Need'ta cum, baby? You wanna cum, hm?"

You nodded, gasping for air. "Mhm—Dazai, I-I-"

You whined at the sudden absence of his fingers, watching as he licked the slick with a gratified groan. "Fucking delicious."

"W-Why—Dazai, why did you-"

"Shh, baby." His fingers circled your clit once more, drawing forth a tangle of unrestrained cries from your throat. "I'll let you cum. But I have one question."

"Wha-what is it?"

He tilted your chin to look into his eyes, and for a moment, you couldn't help but stare at their striking almond color. They continuously swirled with darkness, a mixture of felt and inflicted pain skimming the surface. A drizzle of melancholy stirred within, beckoning you with promises of mystery and paradox. But there was so much more to him, a kindness that rarely sparkled, one that remained hidden behind his walls.

At the end of the day, that was his true allure.

He smirked and, with the upturn of his lips, brought forth a toil of recognizable emotions — lust, desire, possessiveness, yearning. But much like his kindness, something remained hidden. A sense of devotion and tenderness, concealed with the gentleness of his touch despite the inferno smoldering your skin.

"Be my present for the holidays."

Those simple words brought a soft smile from your dewy skin, kissing his cheek as you led his face to yours with a guiding hand. Your fingers brushed his scarred skin, tracing from the nicks on his jaw to the lengthened scar connected to his ear.

"Of course I am, Dazai." His eyes widened. "I've always been yours."

And for a moment, only a brief moment — he smiled.

"Good."

He devoured your lips like his last meal, but the boiling lust had been replaced with a softer sentiment. You melded into one another, your body willfully laid onto the ground. It was like you were two melting candles in the night, burning your wicks until you married into one. Your fingers twirled his chocolate locks, twisting his curled tresses as you pulled him in.

You barely minded the slight zip sound from underneath you, though your eyes couldn't help but wander downward, practically salivating at the sight of his cock resting between his hands. Your body trembled in response to your raging thoughts, anticipating the moment it would be inside you. The brunette chuckled as he leaned up, popping you onto his lap as he used his lithe fingers to slip off your panties, his cock rubbing against your folds.

It seemed that neither of you could take another moment of teasing, Dazai swallowing your moans as he borderline split you in half through shallow thrust, inching in until he was sat at the hilt. He groaned as your walls squeezed him, the bliss more than he had ever dreamed of. His hands traced your shaking spine as you moaned into his mouth, adjusting to the feeling of being so full.

"S-So good, bella—fuck."

His brows furrowed, nipping at your neck with pleasured groans as he rammed his cock up into your aching pussy. His nails dug into the exposed skin of your hip, holding you to him with a bruising grip. His other hand stretched across the crown of your head, muffling your moans in the tense muscle of his shoulder as you lost the ability to restrain your lust-filled pleas for more.

"You feel good, too, don'tcha, baby?"

You fluttered around him, tears streaming down your face as he made deliberate, deep thrusts into your pussy. Your body quivered in his grasp, softly chanting his name like a mantra as he scarred the delicate curve of your neck with gluttonous bites.

"You were fuckin' made f'me, I swear—f-fuck-"

He released a muffled cry as you abruptly came around his cock, mewling hushed praises into his skin as your nails carved into his back. Without a moment to lose, he bucked into you a couple more times as you rode out your high, finding his own release with a groan as he suckled on the heated wounds of your neck.

"Good girl. Such a good fuckin' girl."

You panted, beating a weak fist against his back. "God damn it, Osamu."

"Already callin' me by my first name, bella?" He smiled, his tone not matching his expression. "You're already so in love with—"

You placed your mouth on his, practically pinning the towering man against the ground with an unceremonious thud, rolling your hips with a smirk as he let out a strained whimper. It ceased with a quick peck, and you stared softly at the exposed, love-smitten grin on his face.

"Uh-huh. Love you, too, Osamu."

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @aquigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @sillyspookycat

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[ditttiii]

omg I’m in love with your writing 🥰 can you maybe write a singer!reader with Charles or Max where he goes to her concert for the first time and is mesmerized by her??

MAX VERSTAPPEN X FEMALE READER

summary: she is beautiful in a quiet sort of way. Hair unbound and flowing with the night’s breeze, her skin shimmers under the light, glitters like a thousand stars have scrambled down to adorn her.

a/n: this fic and all future f1 updates will be posted onto my side account @rosegasly only.

The season was over another championship in the metaphorical bag for Max and a champions trophy for Redbull. After the worst possible start, things had really picked up for the team. Post sleepless nights and long hours put in by everyone on track as well as back in Milton Keynes, it had been a double landslide win. 

When finally, after what may very well have been the best season of his motor racing career, his friend and fellow Dutch musician had proposed joining him for a three-day music festival, well agreeing was a no-brainer for Max. 

He is weaving through the sparse but busy crowd backstage, a VIP pass hanging from his neck, letting him through uninterrupted. Contrary to the image the media had painted of him, Max was pretty outgoing. He didn’t spend time with the drivers off track as much as maybe Pierre or Charles did, but it was all because of the complicated and competitive nature of the sport and not at all because he didn’t enjoy being around people or as the media was fond of portraying–a surly grump. 

Max is straightforward, sometimes abrupt, and while he leaves most of those heated feelings back on track, he isn’t quite comfortable enough to play jolly best pals with the other drivers, either. 

“Max!” 

He swivels, eyes roving over the people until he finally spots the Dutch DJ and nods, making his way over. 

“Hey man, glad to see you are up. Didn’t think you would be after last night.” 

Max decides not to mention the persistent pounding hurting the left side of his face and jaw. He’s felt worse over the years training for races. 

“Yeah, just a little tired. When’s your set?” 

“It’s the last one bruv. Not for a while.”

He absently nods and with a promise to catch said man later disperses back into the crowd. 

It’s a few hours later when it’s dark out and he’s walking back with a drink from the food stalls built further away from the stage that he sees her. Max doesn’t recognise her, can’t even see her clearly from how far back he is, but he hears her voice, that raspy, low undertone, the slow, gentle sway of her hips as she sings and it captivates him. Something about her, the way she sings, her tone, the words, so vulnerable with her voice stripped bare. She is talking to him, spilling all her secrets in confidence under the hush of the night and not in front of thousands of people amidst the loud yells and cheers. 

Max walks closer and looks for a screen because he knows there isn’t a way he can push past the screaming crowd. He wouldn’t budge if he was in the front too, and it’s easy to get lost again now that he can see her clearly. 

She is beautiful in a quiet sort of way. Hair unbound and flowing with the night’s breeze, her skin shimmers under the light, glitters like a thousand stars have scrambled down to adorn her. It’s a sad song. She is talking of heartbreak and wanting to let go, being unable to and her voice dips, grows raspier, like she wants to cry, is on the verge of before it lifts, becomes crisp and clear and so so sweet. 

He doesn’t know her name, still can’t recognise her, but when she opens her eyes, his breath seizes. Twin pools of midnight skies gaze back at him through the screen and he feels naked. Like a word from her would crumble all his walls, the stranger in the gray bar whom he’d tell all of his world to, the fears that keep him from sleeping, the things that make him happy, the parts of him he is ashamed of, the ones he has worked years to build. 

The song ends, the cheers grow louder and so does her set because she goes back in and doesn’t come out, though he stays rooted where he is. Breathless, his pulse races under his skin with an itch to be closer to her. He wants to know her, touch her, bury her under thoughts of him as she has and be her muse. 

If his friend notices the slightly crazed look in his eyes when he asks him to introduce her, he is kind enough not to say anything. 

Max waits, impatient in a way he has never been. He isn’t used to falling apart like this. He is usually steel and calm, forged under the relentless rain of his hometown, aged on the racing track where a possible death lurks at every corner, every wrong inch of a move, yet here he is, tripping over his own feet, anxious over a girl. He doesn’t need his father to be a witness to feel his disapproval. 

 She comes out of her room backstage, ironically enough, tripping on her own feet and if anyone asks, he would chop it up to the years of developed reflexes but he feels the truth in his gut. Even if he weren’t an f1 driver, he would still have felt her losing her footing before anyone else. 

She lands in his arms and the way his hands clench around her waist tighter is entirely unconscious. She breathes an embarrassed laugh near his ear and he suppresses the shiver that wants to wrack his whole frame when it washes over him. She smells of mint and sugar, like the sweetest of things and he aches to have this woman he barely knows. 

Jokingly she wraps her arms around him too, making a pun about this being how she meets new people and introduces herself and Max feels her touch more acutely than he feels his car midrace, senses attuned to every bit that is she. Soaking all the words and breaths and glances like a man parched. 

He doesn’t remember introducing himself, unsure if he even said anything but soon she is ushering them into her room and he tails behind her, still spellbound like a child, amazed by her zest for her craft as she discusses her performance with his friend. It’s a foreign feeling, rare, the way he feels right now. Almost undeserving of her attention since he didn’t know who she was before, hasn’t heard her music, doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say. 

Max is all sharp edges and brusque words and is afraid to say the wrong thing. Come across as harsh and inadvertently drive her away. He feels no parts a two-time world champion and all parts an awkward teenager tongue-tied in front of his first real crush. But then she turns around, looks at him and smiles, cracks a joke, leans over at some point to lightly grab his arm, like she is letting him on a secret, including him in her own little bubble, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the joy from bubbling over in his heart.

a/n: all my f1 fanfics have been moved onto here 💕

here's to hoping ferrari can catch up this weekend and I ll have more people than just max to write for 🤌😩

thankyou to the anon for sending in the prompt and aww I m so happy to hear u like my writing 🥰🥰 happy reading 💕

[rosegasly]

you came out of the blue.

MAX VERSTAPPEN X FEMALE READER

⇢ summary: she is beautiful in a quiet sort of way. hair unbound and flowing with the night’s breeze, her skin shimmers under the light, glitters like a thousand stars have scrambled down to adorn her. ⇢ genre: fluff ⇢ pairing: max verstappen x female reader/oc

The season was over another championship in the metaphorical bag for Max and a champions trophy for Redbull. After the worst possible start, things had really picked up for the team. Post sleepless nights and long hours put in by everyone on track as well as back in Milton Keynes, it had been a double landslide win. 

When finally, after what may very well have been the best season of his motor racing career, his friend and fellow Dutch musician had proposed joining him for a three-day music festival, well agreeing was a no-brainer for Max. 

He is weaving through the sparse but busy crowd backstage, a VIP pass hanging from his neck, letting him through uninterrupted. Contrary to the image the media had painted of him, Max was pretty outgoing. He didn’t spend time with the drivers off track as much as maybe Pierre or Charles did, but it was all because of the complicated and competitive nature of the sport and not at all because he didn’t enjoy being around people or as the media was fond of portraying–a surly grump. 

Max is straightforward, sometimes abrupt, and while he leaves most of those heated feelings back on track, he isn’t quite comfortable enough to play jolly best pals with the other drivers, either. 

“Max!” 

He swivels, eyes roving over the people until he finally spots the Dutch DJ and nods, making his way over. 

“Hey man, glad to see you are up. Didn’t think you would be after last night.” 

Max decides not to mention the persistent pounding hurting the left side of his face and jaw. He’s felt worse over the years training for races. 

“Yeah, just a little tired. When’s your set?” 

“It’s the last one bruv. Not for a while.”

He absently nods and with a promise to catch said man later disperses back into the crowd. 

It’s a few hours later when it’s dark out and he’s walking back with a drink from the food stalls built further away from the stage that he sees her. Max doesn’t recognise her, can’t even see her clearly from how far back he is, but he hears her voice, that raspy, low undertone, the slow, gentle sway of her hips as she sings and it captivates him. Something about her, the way she sings, her tone, the words, so vulnerable with her voice stripped bare. She is talking to him, spilling all her secrets in confidence under the hush of the night and not in front of thousands of people amidst the loud yells and cheers. 

Max walks closer and looks for a screen because he knows there isn’t a way he can push past the screaming crowd. He wouldn’t budge if he was in the front too, and it’s easy to get lost again now that he can see her clearly. 

She is beautiful in a quiet sort of way. Hair unbound and flowing with the night’s breeze, her skin shimmers under the light, glitters like a thousand stars have scrambled down to adorn her. It’s a sad song. She is talking of heartbreak and wanting to let go, being unable to and her voice dips, grows raspier, like she wants to cry, is on the verge of before it lifts, becomes crisp and clear and so so sweet. 

He doesn’t know her name, still can’t recognise her, but when she opens her eyes, his breath seizes. Twin pools of midnight skies gaze back at him through the screen and he feels naked. Like a word from her would crumble all his walls, the stranger in the gray bar whom he’d tell all of his world to, the fears that keep him from sleeping, the things that make him happy, the parts of him he is ashamed of, the ones he has worked years to build. 

The cheers grow louder, the song ends and so does her set because she goes back in and doesn’t come out, though he stays rooted where he is. Breathless, his pulse races under his skin with an itch to be closer to her. He wants to know her, touch her, bury her under thoughts of him as she has and be her muse. 

If his friend notices the slightly crazed look in his eyes when he asks him to introduce her, he is kind enough not to say anything. 

Max waits, impatient in a way he has never been. He isn’t used to falling apart like this. He is usually steel and calm, forged under the relentless rain of his hometown, aged on the racing track where a possible death lurks at every corner, every wrong inch of a move, yet here he is, tripping over his own feet, anxious over a girl. He doesn’t need his father to be a witness to feel his disapproval. 

 She comes out of her room backstage, ironically enough, tripping on her own feet and if anyone asks, he would chop it up to the years of developed reflexes but he feels the truth in his gut. Even if he weren’t an f1 driver, he would still have felt her losing her footing before anyone else. 

She lands in his arms and the way his hands clench around her waist tighter is entirely unconscious. She breathes an embarrassed laugh near his ear and he suppresses the shiver that wants to wrack his whole frame when it washes over him. She smells of mint and sugar, like the sweetest of things and he aches to have this woman he barely knows. 

Jokingly she wraps her arms around him too, making a pun about this being how she meets new people and introduces herself and Max feels her touch more acutely than he feels his car midrace, senses attuned to every bit that is she. Soaking all the words and breaths and glances like a man parched. 

He doesn’t remember introducing himself, unsure if he even said anything but soon she is ushering them into her room and he tails behind her, still spellbound like a child, amazed by her zest for her craft as she discusses her performance with his friend. It’s a foreign feeling, rare, the way he feels right now. Almost undeserving of her attention since he didn’t know who she was before, hasn’t heard her music, doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say. 

Max is all sharp edges and brusque words and is afraid to say the wrong thing. Come across as harsh and inadvertently drive her away. He feels no parts a two-time world champion and all parts an awkward teenager tongue-tied in front of his first real crush. But then she turns around, looks at him and smiles, cracks a joke, leans over at some point to lightly grab his arm, like she is letting him on a secret, including him in her own little bubble, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the joy from bubbling over in his heart.

thankyou to the anon for sending in the prompt and aww I m so happy to hear u like my writing 🥰🥰 happy reading luv 💕

[bk-4-trash-fire]

Ok sagau cult of the lamb Christmas special

I don't have a photo to use so I have this place holder

Please don't spam my post I don't want to block you

For today was the best day the cult could have.

And the worst for the archons

For the cult fest, drink, sing, and dance for a day uncaring of the worries the world brings

And also they're naked

JESUS they're naked

Ya know this isn't so bad

All you have to do is stand in a corner

And not look at...

Well...

Anything.

Moving on..

Zhongli is not doing ok..

Watching a group of people collectively get naked is something he never needed to see

And the creator doing it felt like both a blessing and a punishment

It's not helping the creator is pushing him to get naked too

Zhongli trying his best not to rip off his pants: your grace are you sure this is appropriate?

Creator, wearing nothing but a cape: yeah I see no problem....take off the pants

Ei was having a crisis on this festive day not knowing if these feelings are killing her or helping her

Ei trying not to explode while looking at the creator: may I ask why you don't have clothes on your grace?

Creator smashed out their mind holding half a bottle of alcohol: C H E E M A S

Venti.

Venti is having a blast.

His clothes are gone within seconds

He's having the time of his life drinking and singing songs

Venti: your grace why do you have this tradition?

Creator: I got high with leshy the day I made this holiday and still don't remember what the hell it was even about. But if I can get drunk and naked for a day then whatever I said must've been genius

That's all for now but give me any ideas you want for the next robot stray chapter

[bteezxyewriter12]

Wet

Pairing- Yunho x Named Reader

Word count- 2.4k

Includes- Waterbomb Yunho, jealousy, fingering, sex, wall sex, missionary, size kink, dirty talk, tummy bulge, squirting, multiple orgasms, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxminee @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Yunho Masterlist

Yunho POV

Holding on to the huge water gun, I spray ATINYs with water, laughing when it hits them

This is fucking fun

Performing while throwing water?

Amazing

As it is I'm soaked, my clothes sticking to me, my hair plastered to my forehead

I had to take the jacket I was wearing off because it's too hot and it was hard to move in while wet

This is our last song and I'm gonna drench everyone in the crowd

Holding the mic up with one hand, I sing my part while moving the water gun across the crowd, their screams of delight amping me up

Glancing over to the other end of the stage, I chuckle watching Jongho spray everyone with the other water gun

The guys are all having a blast too

And I know my jagi is backstage laughing at my antics

The song ends and I reluctantly let go of the water gun

Waving at ATINYs, I give them finger hearts and smile as I walk backstage

"That was so fun!", Mingi laughs

He's completely drenched, even more than I am

"So fun", I agree

Looking around for her, I spot her talking to one of the makeup artists, my mouth dropping at her outfit

She had to change because she wasn't wearing that when she was helping us get ready

But holy shit, the white lacy crop tank top with the tiny shorts and sneakers is fucking hot

My girlfriend is fucking hot

"Damn Yunho", San says as he passes me, "You're girlfriend is hot"

"Shut up", I glare at him

He just smirks and shrugs, "I have eyes man"

"Look somewhere else"

He chuckles, "Look just appreciate that your girlfriend is hot and she's yours. It doesn't matter who looks at her because all she sees is you"

I mean he's right but still, I get jealous sometimes and I don't need him to tease me about it

As I get closer to her, she glances over, a huge smile overtaking her face when she sees me

"Yunnie", she greets, kissing me when I lean over to her, "You were so good baby! So cute with the water gun. Did you have fun?"

I nod, "Loads of fun. We should do this festival every year"

"Talk to the manager baby", she giggles, "Maybe you can"

I nod

Maybe I will

Or Hongjoong will

"I need to get out of these clothes", I tell her

"Yeah. Even though you're so cute when you're wet"

I grin as she takes my hand, leading me to the tour bus that brought us here, her going in first

When we get inside, some of the guys are there, in various stages of changing

"Jagi", I shriek, covering her eyes with my hands

"Yunnie!", she exclaims, her hands going to my wrists but I don't move my hands

"Oh relax Yunho", Seonghwa says, rolling his eyes, "None of us are naked"

Yeah but still

"Is anyone in the back room?", I growl

This bus comes with a room in the back where the bathroom is and a bed in case anyone wants to take a nap

"No. It's all yours", Hongjoong says, pulling his shirt on

I maneuver her around the bus, still covering her eyes until we pass Mingi, who's the last one changing before the room

I move my hands from her eyes then, opening the door and gently guiding her inside

"Really Yunnie?", she scowls, turning to me, "Don't you know by now that you're the only one I want? You're the only one who turns me on? You're the only one I love?"

"I know jagi but-"

"Do you know?", she asks, "I don't know why you're still jealous over the guys. You know I've seen them shirtless when I have to fix their clothes. And you know that I could see hundreds of men shirtless or hell even naked and not be affected because you, your body is the only one that affects me"

I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment because yeah I know all this

She's one of our stylists so she helps the guys dress, fixes their clothes and she always has an unbothered face while doing it

Except when it comes to me

Even before we were together, I noticed the way she looked at me, the way she bit her lip when she helped me get ready, the way her breathing got a little heavier, the way her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink

And now that we're together her hands are always on me, she's always kissing me, always telling me how hot I am

I know I have nothing to be jealous over but it still happens and I give into it

I need to work harder at ignoring that because she's right

San's right

All she sees is me and I'm so lucky

"I'm sorry baby", I apologize, "I promise I'll be better about it ok?"

Her face softens, "Yeah Yunnie ok. I just don't know why you're so jealous sometimes. You're my everything baby, I love you more than anything and I just want you to remember that"

I nod, "I will"

She smiles softly, "Ok baby. Why don't you change so we can go enjoy the rest of the festival? Maybe get food because I'm starving"

I laugh, agreeing with her

She's tiny and thin but she can eat more than Jongho can

Where it all goes I don't know

She must have a crazy metabolism

"C'mon Yunnie", she pouts

Right, I'm supposed to be changing

First I take my shoes and socks off because it's gross and squishy

Undoing my belt, I get out of the heavy soaked pants and boxers, then pull my shirt off

When I lift my head, I catch a glimpse of her eyes darting away from me

I smirk, knowing she was checking me out

"Baby", I call softly, moving towards her

Her eyes dart back to me, running over my body, stopping at my hard dick

Yeah I'm hard

Seeing her in that outfit and noticing the way she's looking at me- instant hard on

I get to her, running my fingers up her bare arms

"Yunnie no", she says, shaking her head, "You're all wet and sticky"

Smirking wider, I slide my hand in her shorts and panties, my fingers on her soaked cunt

"So are you jagi", I inform her, "Already nice and wet for me and I didn't even touch you"

Lowering my head, I press a kiss to her bare shoulder, trailing kisses up until I get to her neck

"Don't you want to be impaled in my cock baby?", I ask, pressing kiss after kiss to the spot on her neck that drives her crazy while playing with her clit

"I..uh .."

"I know I want your tight wet pussy wrapped around my cock baby"

God, do I want her

But to be fair, I want her all the time

"Yunnie", she moans

"Mm yeah baby", I murmur, "Want you to moan my name just like that while I fuck your sweet perfect pussy as deep as I can"

"Fuck", she whimpers

Moving my fingers down, I slide two deep inside her, rubbing against her spot that I can always find immediately

She shivers, her legs buckling but I grab her around the waist, holding her up

"Wanna make you so wet baby, make you cream around my cock until my whole lap is soaked", I tell her, "Wanna make you squirt everywhere, make me soaking wet again"

"Fuck Yunnie"

"Want me to do that baby? Want me to fuck you hard until all you can scream is my name, all you can think about is my cock inside you?"

"Yes!", she cries, "Fuck yes!"

With that, I crash my lips to hers, kissing her deeply, my hands already pulling her shorts and panties down

She kicks her sneakers off, then her bottom clothes and I grab her lifting her up, her legs wrapping around me

Leaning her against the wall, I move my cock to her dripping hole and shove inside her, bottoming out in one thrust

"Yes Yunnie", she moans, leaning her head back against the wall

"Hands up baby", I tell her

She moves her hands off me, and I hold her against the wall with my hips, sliding her crop top off, her boobs right in my face, since she's not wearing a bra

Wrapping one arm around her waist and groping her ass, I use the other to lift her perky boob up, latching on to her nipple and sucking hard

At the same time, I pull back then thrust forward, splitting her hole wide open as I bury back inside her

"Yunho!", she screams, her body shaking against mine

I move as fast as I can, as hard as I can, in and out, falling into the intense pleasure of her cunt taking me, clenching around me

With each slam into her, I smash her spot, her body shaking against me, her pussy getting wetter and wetter

I bite her nipple softly, loving the way her hard bump feels in my mouth

Loving sucking on her

There's another place I love to suck on but there's no time for that right now

Anyone could walk back here looking for us

But tonight, in the hotel, I'm gonna eat her cunt like I'm never going to have her again

Just thinking about how sweet she tastes makes me groan against her nipple, fucking into her again and again

Her cunt's pulsing is so fucking good as she sucks me deep inside, her legs squeezing around my waist tighter

Her hand moves into my hair, pulling me off her nipple, her mouth crashing against mine as she kisses me desperately

I kiss her back just as wildly, my tongue down her throat as her other arm wraps around my neck

Gripping one ass cheek in each of my hands, I pound into her, feeling her cunt getting closer

Fuck, I want to feel her orgasm

The first time I fucked her and she came around my dick, oh my fucking god I had no idea a girl's orgasm could feel that good

It has to be because she's so small and unbelievably tight mixed with my intense desire for her

All I'm sure of is I'm addicted to her orgasms, crave them, addicted to her like a junkie that doesn't want to kick their habit

I'm so in love it's actually ridiculous

Slamming into her spot, she moans in my mouth, her body trembling as she cums all over me

Her pussy throbs like crazy, sending unbelievable pleasure crashing over me

She breaks the kiss, yelling my name, clinging onto me

She's beautiful

Utterly beautiful

Pulling her away from the wall, I get her on the bed, going on top of her

Hooking one arm under her knee I push her legs to her chest, sliding my cock right into her waiting hole

Her hands grab at me but I'm not having it right now

Getting both of her hands in mine, I slam them above her head, holding her down as I start fucking her

She cries my name and I look down, watching the pleasure all over her face

"Fuck jagi", I whisper, "So fucking pretty like this, stuffed with my cock"

"So good...Yu..Yu...Yunnie", she hiccups, tears falling down her cheeks

"Look at you", I smirk, watching her body arch, feeling her cunt squeeze the life from my cock, "Such a mess under me. A tiny crying mess"

Not only is she beautiful but the fact that she's so little, that her cunt takes my big cock like a pro, turns me on like nothing else

I love that she's so little, so compact, love how she fits in my arms, in my lap, love how small her hand looks in mine, love how I can cuddle her like a plushie

Love how she cries for my cock inside her instead of telling me to get out or it hurts

Instead she begs me to bottom out all the time, wanting to feel all of me inside her

And I give her what she wants

Moving my eyes down, I watch her cunt cream up my length, a thick white ring of cream at the base of my cock, turning me on so much

Her pussy is so wet, the squelching sounds of her taking me so pretty

My eyes land on her tummy and I'm mesmerized by the sight of her tummy bulging every time I fuck into her

Up and down, up and down, her pussy gripping my cock so hard

"Yunho...I...I can't...", she sobs

"Too good baby?", I smirk

She nods, her beautiful brown eyes shiny with tears

"Gonna cum for me?", I ask

She nods again as I stuff her pussy with my cock over and over

"Go ahead baby", I tell her

Plunging deeply into her, my head rubbing her spot, she snaps, screaming my name at the top of her lungs as she orgasms

I watch her pussy squirt all over my cock, my lower stomach and lap, completely drenching me

Again

I let the utter ecstasy wash over me as I thrust into her and shoot my cum deep in her squirting cunt

"Joanne! Fuck jagi! Yes", I moan, leaning my forehead against hers, my body shaking against hers

God, it feels out of this world

I've never had such intense orgasms as I have with her

"Yunho", she whimpers

I let go of her hands and she immediately moves them to my face, cupping my cheeks as she kisses me in such a sweet, gentle, loving kiss

I let her love wash over me while giving all of mine into the kiss

Pulling out of her, I shift next to her, pulling her right against me, our lips never leaving each other's

"I love you", she says, when the kiss finally ends

"I love you", I tell her, smiling softly, running my fingers in her hair

She snuggles into me, her head under my chin, kissing my neck softly, "Do we have to get up?"

"Yeah baby, unfortunately we do. In a few minutes"

"Wah", she whines, making me smile

"Well jagi, we can get food like you wanted to"

"Oh yeah", she giggles, "I'm even more hungry now"

I chuckle, kissing her forehead and enjoy holding her for a few more minutes

We eventually get up, clean up and get dressed

She takes my hand, tugging on me to bend down

When I do, she presses a sweet kiss to my lips

"Ok now food!", she exclaims, pulling me behind her and I follow, laughing

[nanoa1foryou]

Helsingin Sanomat did an interview with Windows95Man. Here are some of the main points, translated and summarized for you who don't have access to it since it's paywalled.

Note, There is a section talking about his stance on Israel's paryicipation in esc as well as his own.

He is currently waiting for a chance to get to therapy, after everything that has happened recently

He has not really had the chance to eat or sleep properly since the victory

The win was very much a surprise to him. he didn't think they had a chance until he had the trophy in hand

He is a big fan of Sara's song (it has been stuck in his head)

The topic of Israel was brought up and I'll translate that part fully here, because I think it is important to get in his words:

"Even though Keisteri said on Saturday, before the UMK win that he would be ready to represent Finland at Eurovision regardless of Israel partisipating, he also siad he wishes that Israel wasn't allowed to. The matter is not so simple now that he has actually won UMK.

'I'm not in this alone but with Henri. We got on this project to spread joy. That's what we want to do at Eurovision too,' keisteri says seriously.

'Everyone who's in this has to be comfortable.'"

And later in the text:

"At the moment Keisteri doesn't want to take a stance on wether his and Piispanen's trip to Malmö is certain. There is no date on teh calendar when they must have an answer.

'Were stalling it now. We want to have a few rest days, so that we can think in peace.'

You can see from Keisteri that he has ended up as the target of a rough social media beatdown as the result of the Israel situation.

Keisteri has already formed one clear opinion. He wishes that every artist chosen for Eurovision could sign a petition, that demands Israel's removal.

'I'm gladly furthering something like this.'"

Back to the other things in the article:

He has always intentionally gone against the current and against the rules. He has for years carried the "No Rules!" attitude towards life. He got it from his parents.

He was actually already a big name in underground art following circles due to his illustrations.

Particularly his 2008 designed character, Ukkeli, has gotten decent notoriety.

The denim look started from a joke video he made for a friend.

The windows95 outfit was inspired by said video and became his Flow-outfit (I'm guessing referencing Flow festival, but it is not specified.)

Windows95Man developed from there for his first ever gig, and the artist name was chosen because Dj Windows95 already existed

The artist picture taken for his first show (the one of him lying on the bed in the get up with super bright flash) has made some wild rounds on the internet as a meme completely unrelated to him

He eventually got hired for a mini gig at a bar at Flow festival. The pay seemed unreasonably bad so he intentionally played bad music like Crazy Frog. The place became totally packed. This then resulted in a huge amount of small gig offers .

He recently watched the final performance with his wife and son. His son laughed and him and his wife cried. He apparently hadn't realized the affect that their performance had had on the crowd.'

He had wanted to perform naked, in a Kalevala creation story type of performance.

Once he gets a break from all this madness, he wants to sit down with Käärijä. Apparently Jere reached out to him after the victory.

[swayziiwriter]

Gold | Neymar jr

summary: when Brazil takes home gold in the olympics a reunion between you and Neymar leads to a very sleepless night.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

As you lay naked under the sheets, the gentle breeze that entered the room gave you goosebumps. You came into contact with another body that was warm and soft as you turned over. Neymar's inked chest was noticeable even in the corner of the evening.

You got up with a sheet wrapped freely around the front of your body swaggering towards the gallery entryway that was left somewhat open. It was refreshing to breathe in the clean air as it slowly entered your body, clearing your mind of the negative thoughts that had clouded it. You guaranteed yourself that late night rendezvous with Neymar were finished, still, you wound up right once more into his bed. You weren't going to be seeing Neymar, and you weren't planning for this to happen.

Brazil had won gold in the Olympics at home, which called for festivities that would extend across the whole country. You had decided to celebrate with friends who were clearly Neymar's friends as well.

Your relationship with Neymar was confounded. Up until a month ago, when you spent time making love to him while he was seeing someone else, he was your closest friend.

After everything was said and done, you promised yourself that no matter how badly you wanted Neymar to be yours, he wasn't. You felt so ashamed. If you wanted to face yourself every day, you had to accept this reality. You had stayed away from him until your affections for him were for quite some time neglected, yet you just couldn't let them go. Neymar had quit seeing the past lady which he had been faithless as well. You couldn't stop yourself from falling in love with Neymar once more, which led you to tonight.

You turned around and looked back, avoiding Neymar as he slept. His tattooed chest stood out in the pitch-black darkness beneath the blanket's partial covering. As you turned to look back out the balcony doors, you celebrated by studying the city. You were too preoccupied with your own thoughts to notice that Neymar was moving behind you when you awoke to find your body gone from beside him. He tiredly got out of bed, making sure not to trip on the clothes and pillows that had been discarded of.

Neymar wrapped his arms around your figure and tied himself in the sheet you had used to protect yourself, causing your body to gently shake. He kissed you open mouthed as he ran his arms down your body, sucking on the skin as you let soft moans escape from your chapped lips. You inclined your head back, your body shaking to the delight as you felt his presently hard cock spring toward your butt.

Neymar removed the blanket from your body and brought you into his arms as he turned your body toward him. Neymar had two hands on your butt as your put your hands in his hair, pulling on the locks as he left hot kisses too your lips. Getting your legs around his midsection Neymar actually held you up, strolling towards the wall as he pushed you facing it.

You investigated his eyes, crying as his delicate lips left yours, before you could scrutinize his thought process Neymar pushed up into you, slow and profound. Unable to comprehend anything Neymar was saying to you as he continued to pound into you, your body melted into his, and you moaned incoherently.

"You're so close bébé" Neymar moaned, matching up his pushes with your groans expanding at your pleasure. "So good, so fucking good" you groaned raking your nails down his strong back certain to leave marks for a really long time as you let yourself become helpless against Neymar. Giving him everything.

A symphony of moans and skin slapping was heard all over the room a song only meant for you two to hear in your most joyful moments. You were on the verge of being undone, and tonight, you were about to come for the third time. Second one was on his cock.

Neymar continued to slip inside of you as he rubbed circles with his two fingers on your clit. You moaned, "Ney, oh Ney right there," as he fucked up into your g-spot and repeatedly hit your core with each movement of his hips. Your peak wasn't far, scratching the edge of your brain as the recognizable warm inclination showed up in the profundities of your stomach.

Neymar issued a warning, "I know you want to let go meu amor." As you rolled your eyes to the back of your head, he whispered, "So let go all over my cock," into your ear. You let go all around his cock, spouting your juices onto his as he screwed you through your high. Your body shook to the joy, shivering as

Neymar exhausted his heap into you not long after. Your body became numb from the overstimulation as Neymar continued to raise it.

Neymar said with a low voice, "Idso foi perfecto," as he watched as your still-buried body curved into his with each light movement. Feeling the blend of both your sticky juices spilling from your sore pussy. Yet, absolutely no part of that made a difference, you had Neymar after all the torment and implicit sentiments you at long last had the man you were so profoundly captivated by. All encircling you.

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou is adamant about not doing anything for his birthday. He does this every year, and you usually do something for him anyway, something small. You might have a picnic or go hiking with him or just stay in bed watching his favorite movies.

He doesn’t want to do anything for his birthday ever. And this year, you respect his wishes.

When he wakes up, he expects streamers and balloons to litter the room. Maybe you walking in half naked with a tray of breakfast for him. He expects something, even though he’s adamant about having nothing. So he’s a little….surprised? Disappointed? When he wakes up and has…nothing.

Bakugou gets up and pads into the kitchen and is greeted by a regular sight—you sitting in your usual chair with a warm mug and scrolling through your phone. You perk up when he enters though, smiling at him, getting up from your seat as you hand him his protein shake. You kiss his lips gently, whispering against his mouth,

“Good morning, my love. Happy birthday.” And continue on with your normal routine. Bakugou blinks, surveys the kitchen once more, looks over the counters and peeks into the trash can. He figures you must’ve made him another one of those big birthday breakfast’s, but it’s still the same regular breakfast you always make.

The rest of the day goes on like that. Everyone treating him as they usually do on his birthday—overwhelmingly and annoying, and he hates it a little more than he usually does. Were you upset with him? Did he do something the night before for his birthdays festivities that he never wants to be canceled?

He perks up when you text him, but it’s just to ask if he wants chicken tonight instead of fish. He almost breaks the screen on his phone when he replies chicken.

By the time Bakugou gets home, he’s irritated beyond all hell. Yes, he knows he told you how much he didn’t wanna be celebrated today but that didn’t mean to do this. To do nothing. He takes a few breaths before he unlocks the front door, sighing as he enters with his head down, immediately kicking off his boots.

“Happy birthday, handsome!” You shout when he enters, making his head immediately whip up. He’s shocked at the sight; you standing in the middle of your living room in that one outfit he said he loved the most on you, with orange and black streamers and balloons decorating the space. The lights are dimmed and his favorite song is playing (the one that blasted on the speakers the night he took you home after your first date), there’s an assortment of food on the table, and what looks like a homemade cake in the middle. He’s frozen at the sight, and is only pulled out of his stupor when you pad over to him and bring his face down to yours.

“I know every year you say you don’t want anything for your birthday, but I couldn’t help myself. Is this okay?” You ask gently, cupping his cheeks, smudging the soot from his skin. Bakugou stares down at you with the softest look he could muster, smiling gently as he pulls you in close to him, kissing you hard until you both lose your breath.

“It’s perfect.” Bakugou answers simply, pecking your forehead as he pulls you in close until your nose is pressed against his collarbone. You take in his scent before sighing, pulling away as you pat at his chest.

“Good. Now go take a bath so we can eat and open your presents.” You nod to the back of the house, going to pull away but Bakugou squeezes you tight to him. He looks at you, seriously, and it almost worries you, before he whispers softly into the air,

“I love you.” His voice sincere and sweet, and it makes you smile so hard your cheeks burns. You peck him once, twice, before speaking against his lips,

“I love you more.”

And after that, Bakugou doesn’t dread his birthday as much. Not if he gets to spend it with you.

[teecupangel]

Ok so because I was rewatching Disney and DreamWorks imagine if Ratonhnhaké:ton was in like a musical, kind of like Hamilton but in real life. I don't know how that will work and I'm slowly losing cells so yeah : P

“There is something you must know before you leave.” The clan mother, his grandmother, spoke solemnly.

Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at her and waited for her to continue.

She was giving him permission to leave their village after all. The least he could do was heed her warnings and take her words to heart.

“These white men have a curse placed upon them.”

“A curse?” Ratonhnhaké:ton repeated with a frown.

“Yes, they are slaves to the music only they hear.” She explained, “We know not why it is so but they would be taken in by the desire to sing and be unable to resist it. No matter the place or the time, when they hear the music, they must sing.”

She stared at her only grandson as she continued, “Your mother and I… we were worried that you have gotten their curse but not once have you ever shown to bear the same curse as they have. That might change once you walk among them.”

She must have seen the disbelief that he was trying to hide for she sigh as she said, “You must be careful, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Who knows what this curse truly entails. We can never be certain that this curse is not simply the inescapable call of music.”

“I… understand.” Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, “I will be careful.”

The clan mother knew that Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t truly understand but she said nothing, only telling him to be careful.

He will understand soon enough.

.

Unorganized Notes:

So my idea is that the Europeans are the ones hit by this ‘curse’. They’re compelled to sing whenever they hear the music and it happens a lot. The natives see this and are like “???” but to the colonizers, it’s just… par of the course.

This does mean those who weren’t born or raised in the parts of Europe like Adéwalé do not sing. He does sing with the crew when it’s sea shanties but any dance number and such? Nope, he was the ‘straight dude’ in the Jackdaw.

This means that Achilles also doesn’t sing so he’s able to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton how it looks and feel like to give him a head’s up.

The Kenways, Edward, Haytham and even Jenny, usually sing very dramatic songs. It shows as the kind of “find my freedom and goal” uplifting songs for Edward, the whole “I want to be me” kind of songs for Jenny and the “villain song that is always the best song in the album” type of songs for Haytham (bonus points for Haytham having his own Gregorian chant backup singers to connote his Templar background).

Ratonhnhaké:ton does not sing but… he does hear the music.

If you want to turn this into a Hamilton crossover, go ahead. That means Ratonhnhaké:ton has to deal with Hamilton’s… everything whenever he has to talk to Washington XD

Whatever is making them sing sees Ratonhnhaké:ton as ‘part’ of the ensemble so you get scenes like Haytham singing a duet with Ratonhnhaké:ton but Ratonhnhaké:ton does not know the lyrics and would rather strip naked and run away from wolves all night long than sing.

The same thing happened to Charles Lee but Ratonhnhaké:ton was busy beating the crap out of him.

The whole confrontation with Washington, Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton ends with Haytham and Washington singing with some ‘dead spaces’ here and there where it’s clear that it was Ratonhnhaké;ton’s turn to sing.

The music in the homestead are always jolly (unless something bad happens) and they always include Ratonhnhaké:ton. Unlike the other times, they don’t try to make Ratonhnhaké:ton sing and Ratonhnhaké:ton just joins in the festivity more or less. Achilles takes the ‘I’m the grumpy one who doesn’t sing’ part in these musical numbers instead.

… Haytham definitely sang a very embarrassing love song that was meant to be a duet to Kaniehtí:io. Kaniehtí:io was amuse. Haytham was embarrassed.

Why are the colonizers singing? Isu BS. Apollo, Bragi and Meret got super drunk and fucked up the ‘latest’ batch of humans to be processed for shits and giggles. They ran away before Yaldabaoth saw them and he’s been so overworked that he just… didn’t give a shit and sent these batch as is.

[kaidoslastbraincell]

request from @kazenomegaminowanpisu

you're the sweetest person on the planet when it comes to katsuki bakugo...too bad that doesn't extend to the other women trying to get with him

Readers quirk: chemical burn-your body secretes ethanol which you can ignite to produce flames invisible to the naked eye (only you can see them unless it's dark where they're visible to everyone)

pairings: bakugo x fem!reader (3rd years)

genre: fluff i guess?

recommended song: I.F.L.Y by Bazzi

_____________________________________

It was no secret that you and Katsuki Bakugo were a couple. He made it painfully obvious when he treated you like the most precious thing on the planet. But that was only towards you. You were sweet in general, to pretty much everyone, but you were sweetest to him.

You never had to worry much about other girls hitting on him. His aggressive nature usually fended them off all on its own. And you never garnered much attention from the guys... That was until you won the UA sports festival in your third year. While Katsuki pouted over his loss for a while, he was undoubtedly proud. His girlfriend was one of the strongest. And now the whole world knew it too. Boys would bother you now; cornering you at your locker or delaying your short walks between classes. You'd try to be polite about it, entertain their questions until they bordered on invasive. And even before you got the chance to be more harsh, the ash blonde would appear behind you. "Everything okay here, angel?" There's the softness only for you. Then his searing glare turns on the extras who dare even look at his woman. They scurry away immediately. Nobody wants to be on Katsuki's bad side (if they aren't already).

It was another regular day. Your muscles ached from hero training and the long week of work studies. You were chatting with Izuku and Todoroki by your locker, the two offering to wait with you until Katsuki arrived. Eventually you heard the distinctive stomps of your boyfriend, followed by a whiney voice of a girl you didn't recognise. Every muscle in your body tensed. Who was this girl acting so familiarly with him? You were friends with all of his friends...having been adopted into the bakusquad not long into your first year. They stopped a short distance away from you when he turned to her suddenly, preparing to give her a piece of his mind. The girl stepped further into his bubble...the space only you were allowed to occupy...and grabbed his hand.

"y/n-chan...are you okay?" Izuku murmured softly.

You hummed in response, turning to the boys with an overly-sweet smile: "I'll be right back."

You reached them in seconds, a hand grabbing the other girl's wrist hard enough to bruise. And when Katsuki felt you right beside him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Everything okay here, Kat?" you asked softly, your glare never leaving the girl before you.

"No," he growled, "this nobody won't leave me the fuck alone."

Your eyes narrowed further while the girl matched your stare, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Aw come on Katsuki," she purred, "I just wanna get to know you better."

Your grip on her wrist tightened some more until you saw her wince, the palm of your hand heating up.

"He said no."

"You're not the boss of him," she huffed.

"You're right. I'm not. But I am his girlfriend and you're making MY boyfriend uncomfortable."

Katsuki could feel your body heat rising and he smirked, taking a step closer to you.

"What are you gonna do about it huh?" she hissed.

"I'm assuming you were in the sports festival? And if not, you at least watched it hm?"

The girl nodded, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Then I'm assuming you know what my quirk is..."

"Chemical burn?"

"Ding ding! Correct! Then you should know that my quirk is very temperamental and reliant on my emotions...and right know...you're pissing me off."

Flames only you could see flickered around your fingers and shoulders, the heat against her skin causing her to yelp and release Katsuki's wrist. Your grip didn't relent though.

"Bitch! You're burning me!" she screeched.

You deadpanned.

"Oh...I am? I didn't notice."

You threw her arm away from your boyfriend and she stormed off. Turning to the blonde beside you, a sweet smile lit up your features.

"I've got your back baby, don't you worry," you winked before walking back towards your two friends.

"God I fucking love her..."

[c-kiddo]

What do you think caduceus would be up to in these festive times?

im not sure, since exandria has different holidays i dont rly remember details about, but also the clays are separate from the empire/coast/xhorhas etc anyway .. i think the clays would probably celebrate the solstices and equinoxes though. probably some harvesting celebrations and then the rest of worship is very constant, like prayers and offerings and gardening as worship of course too. winter solstice probably involves lots of warm tea (think something like chai, nice spices all simmered together for hours and all day in a big pot, keeping the temple warm and everyones insides warm too) and maybe some braiding and special altar. candles outside in the snow (if it lands in the grove, im not sure, since its kept warmer than outside it), lots of candles and lanterns in general. big fire in the stove/fireplace, big big pot of soups and plates of food to share. specific herbs and branches thrown into the fire for nice sounds and smells. songs maybe. maybe theyre hibernating a little bit. but also fun small idea i like is that they do a v scandinavian thing of getting in hot springs and then lying in the snow naked and then getting in hot springs . very refreshing for saying goodbye to the darkest point of the year lol

[wackapedia]

Soldier, Poet, King

Aegon Targaryen x Reader You hang out with your husband one lazy afternoon inside your quarters :) Word count: 342 words Warnings: None just fluff and one (1) filthy joke from Aegon

"What are you singing?"

"Hmm?"

"That tune, you've been singing it for days now..." Aegon's tired eyes follow you as you organize the mess you and your husband had accumulated overnight. He lies on the lounge chair, nothing but a thin sheet on him.

"Oh that, it's the song those bards performed in the last festival. I've never quite forgotten it actually," You give him a gentle smile. "It's called Soldier, Poet, King."

Aegon is in deep thought while you continue to sort out the clothes, books, and cups strewn across your shared quarters, moving in and out of the room to return them to their places. When you return to fetch the last of the books, you catch your husband almost smirking to himself.

"What's so funny?" You ask him.

"Well, I was thinking about the words to that song..." He slides himself lower on the lounge seat, "and that it fits the three of us, Aemond, Helaena, and I." He gleams, proud of making the connection.

You move to the bed to fold the sheets. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, Aemond is the soldier, Helaena the poet, and yourself the king."

"I don't know if we're talking about the same Aemond, the one I know can't be a soldier because he has one eye." Aegon jests at the expense of his brother.

"That's mean. How do you think you'd sort yourselves with the characters then?" You ask.

"So, Aemond can be king, Helaena the soldier, and I the poet..." He smirks. You feel there's another oncoming joke.

"What part of Aegon Targaryen, second of his name counts as a poet?! " you question, scoffing at his answer.

"Because the song says that the poet will slay you with his tongue..."

Aegon pulls the sheet from his naked body, gets up from his seat, and continues: "And I'm pretty sure I've done more than that on you with my tongue!" Aegon sputters a laugh and fails to dodge a pillow you throw in his direction, hitting him square in the face. ------------- A/n: He’s my annoying little slimeball uwu