#the sunflower is very normal as you can see

[krispiebones]

Insane ginger child!? I mean her uncle is literally crazy, guess the apple doesn’t fall to far from the tree.

Hello again my old mental illness I am turning you into a horror au haha

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Put those smelly feet away

Click for unfuzziness

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

hot in sarajevo i

[ part two ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of "y/n") / 4k words / NSFW

cw: assassination, dubcon (not really bc reader is into it and consents, but better safe than sorry bc ymmv), unsanitary conditions, rough sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering, creampie, brief mention of burn injuries, pre-established relationship a.n.: no excuse for this, indulged a brain worm on my day off bc i wanted to write something nasty. enjoy!

It’s been a blistering, miserable six hours out in the hills outside Sarajevo proper. The height of summer, surrounded by dead-brown grass blown about sadly in the weak breeze. You cook in your ghillie suit, knowing it could very well be another six hours under this heat with zero shade, just waiting on your target. Sweating. Searching. Souring. 

König is your spotter, and he’s already not pleased with the fact. He’d much rather be the one wrapped around the Steyr HS .50, instead relegated to the seemingly miserable role of binocular jockey. But the fact is, he’s better at recon, and you can stay planted in one place without moving even when your lower body burns with numbness. 

“I’m hard,” he announces in his way—no preamble, no fanfare, moderate expectation. 

“Christ,” you snort, pulling away from the scope only enough to throw a glance at him. He’s still pressed against the oculars, jaw working on sunflower seeds because they can’t smoke without setting the tinderbox field around them on fire. Otherwise, you can barely see the shape of him in his own ghillie suit among the grass. “Clench your legs and your torso, or hump the fucking dirt.”

“Not going to get the job done,” he laughs darkly, dumping back another mouthful of seeds. You can hear them crack between his molars as he bites down hard. 

He’s going to be a fucking handful after this. 

Going back to your scope, watching the highway, you promise him, “If you’re good helping me with this assassination, we can play when we’re done.”

Another hard bite, another gravelly laugh. Sing-song, he warns you, “Better hope he drives by so-oooh-oon, Schatzi.”

“Always nice to get a visit from mean-König,” you hum back, trying for unaffected, even as your cunt floods and clenches around nothing. 

It’s just hitting golden hour when the target finally deigns to bomb past your scope in a civilian vehicle trussed up in subtle armor. You and König slot right into the predator drift, bodies left behind to fall into the hunt. Working like extensions of one body, he confirms a PID, and throws calculations your way, sharp and sleek, and your blood turns into straight adrenaline, pupils dilated to pitch black.

You work like the sword of god, lining up your crosshairs, allowing for lead, allowing for wind and elevation, and when you exhale and give the trigger what it wants, the sky cracks in half with a sonic boom, big gun bucking brutal against your shoulder. With one shot you take out the target and driver, vehicle careening off the road. 

König’s low, restrained laugh blends into yours, your teeth chattering under your face covering. Two more shots cut the blood-and-gold colored sky, killing the remaining passengers, and something vile in you shrieks with delight when one of them staggers around without a head a few steps before falling backwards stiff as a board.

Your eyes catch his as you throw the safety, pulling the massive rifle into your arms to flee the scene, and he looks blood-poisoned with arousal. The normal blue-gray of his eyes are gone, sore, unblinking pink sclera around inkwell pools of black. His back heaves with his breathing, body rigid and clenched, hips grinding against the ground. He is going to fucking tear you apart and eat the pieces. Saturn Devouring His Son, König Devouring His Lover.

Without a word, you both force your bodies around in the tall, dead grass, ghillie suits blending your belly-drag crawl to the treeline.

There’s a five mile hike between your abandoned perch and the exfil vehicle, following back the steps you took this morning, with a staging site in the middle of it. Small clearing, deep enough that no one could stumble across it, a temporary home for your rifle’s case and minimal necessary equipment. 

The moment you’re both upright in the treeline, König’s got a vicious hand under your camo, gripping your belt, dragging you close and up, forcing you on unbalanced tiptoes. “You’re going to fucking give it to me,” he demands. 

You turn it around, snatching a hand under his hood, gun sagging in your arms. Your fist wraps around the jaw strap of his helmet, knuckles pressing into his jugular–his pulse is fucking racing, booming, screaming through his veins–and your teeth are shards of glass as you command him, “Fucking heel. You’re not being a good boy.”

That makes him pant, almost reeling, eyes blinking out of sorts, pulling you closer, almost against him. 

“That is not how it’s going to work today,” he says, slow and damning. Turns your blood into lava, thick and slow and lethal pumping through your heart as it fights for its life. He pulls the rifle from your hand, and it weighs nothing to him. Nearly looks like he’s got more to say, and he’s trying to figure out how to word it, but his brain is too clouded with lust to put it in the right order.

Hefts the gun over his shoulder like a bat, and shoves you back by the pelvis, releasing you. Time to go, the moves say, leaving you no dignified way to hold onto the authority that’s slipped through your fingers. 

You know he’s burning frustration, anger, and resentment as fuel for this mood. You were the designated sniper, he was a lowly spotter. In his mind, that position belonged to him, and you took it. It didn’t matter that you were the superior choice, that he was invaluable to the kill. 

No. Not at all. You stole from him, and he’s taking something in return.

If you weren’t thinking solely with your pussy, you would admit that it would probably be wise to exercise caution with him at the moment. But you’re not. You’re going to get your brains fucked out and painted on a tree.

At the staging area, scant gold light is cutting through the trees as the sun lumbers its way to setting, and the woods are humid and dense. Your boots crush fallen beech nut pods and pine needles. Could almost be Thoreauvian, if there was a lake, or not a gun big enough to kill god in the arms of a sexually frustrated Austrian maniac.

König is fast and quiet, ripping the mag out of the gun, emptying the chamber, dropping the gun on its case. You’d seen him piece apart a pistol to base components in ten seconds many times, he’s making himself take time with the rifle, leaving it barely touched.

You’ve got enough time to just prepare for him to grab you around the middle so you aren’t thrown off balance, leaning into his momentum as he hauls you to an enormous beech tree, his back sliding down the trunk. Keeps you pinned in his lap, laughing harsh and ugly as you deal with your belt, button, and zipper, “Good girl–good fucking girl. Know what I’m going for.”

“You’re easy to predict,” you bullshit him with a sharp edge. He’s going to get his way, and you’re going to deliver unto him whatever the fuck he pleases, but you’re going to keep your teeth through it. “Could’ve taken the suits off, could’ve really given you a show.”

“Cute that you think I’m in a rush. You’re in the suit on purpose,” he grates, thrusting against your ass, forcing you open with your legs over his knees. “Keep being mouthy. Only fucks me up worse.”

“Stiff breeze gets you fucked up,” you snort, but when he hooks his gloved thumb in your zipper, you lift your hips to help him pull your pants down your thighs. Leaves you exposed, drenched in sweat, and wet in his lap. “Goddamned freak.”

He bypasses the true and mutually reflective accusation completely, grinding the forehead of his helmet against the back of yours. Still looking for affectionate closeness, even when he’s out for blood. “Can smell you, good god,” he growls, sliding his huge hand into your underwear, grabbing your sex in ownership. “You and the military issue drawers–typical. Been a while since I fucked you in gear. Still wearing the boxers because you wish you were hanging dick, or is it just to match the attitude?”

“Commissary ran out of crotchless combat thongs. Waiting on a restock.” The rough fabric of his gloved middle finger splits your lips, teasing your hole, and for a flashfire second you think he’d better not give you a UTI with those dirty fucking things, before it burns straight out of your head. 

“Better luck next time,” he taunts, jaw tight. You can hear the wolf-fanged smirk in his tone. “Start going commando. Make it easier.”

“Maybe there isn’t a next time,” you volley back, “best you make the most of this.”

“There’s always a next time. No one else could fuck you like me. Little whore you are, you’d get bored.”

He blots all the thought out in your head, adding his ring finger to the mix, pushing both huge digits into your starving cunt. Rips a bark right out of you, arching off his chest and pushing against his hips for leverage, trying automatically to fuck down on them even as the pain of the fabric feels like it’s rasping your insides. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you gasp, going hot-cold-and-blind all at once, nipples pulling tight under your gear. 

He throws a heavy arm around your stomach, pulling you back down, merciful or mindful enough to know he needs to go slow, or this isn’t going to go anywhere except the infirmary. “Take it, Liebes, swallow them down with that pretty cunt,” he commands, his English as sharp and scraping as scythe blades felling harvest in wide, practiced strokes, “I’m not even close to done.”

You can already feel his fat cock straining against his pants, even through all the layers between you, and you rut back against it, at least trying to get some torture of your own added in. That just makes him stupid and animalistic, pushing his chin over your shoulder, trying to butt into your jaw. He wants to bite your lips, but there are too many impediments blocking the way.

His fingers squelch down to the last knuckle, your pussy spasming around them, soaking the fabric. He’s a pervert to such a degree that you know he’s going to leave them unwashed, and he’s going to wear and suck on them while he beats off when you’re not there until there’s no flavor left. 

For now, he’s slow, rocking them into you in a curve, his sense of touch dampened as he searches out your g-spot. The exploration makes you feel filthy, and just a little humiliated. Used. Faceless and disrespected. It’s so opposed to his usual dogmatic worship, fresh and frightening. 

He gives a little something extra, grinding the heel of his hand over your clit, telling you to use it. You do, finally feeling something physically pleasurable, even though it’s too dull and not nearly enough. 

König is segmented; you’ve known that for as long as you’ve known him. Don’t know if he did it to himself, or if it was an after-affect of all the bad shit he didn’t die from. He’d let you in on enough to know that his best days are numb neutrality and boredom intercut with adrenalized high-chasing. His worst days are lost dogs and veils of blood floating through his mouth.

He almost clicks over from one facet to another when you push against his arm, hissing through your teeth as a stitch on his glove catches a fold in you. For a microsecond, lover-König surfaces, shifting you around against his body, repositioning his fingers so you aren’t hurting too badly, and then he’s gone again.

With a rough hand, he shoves the tan boxer-briefs down your thighs, and bucks your ass off his pelvis, going to release his cock.

You push your shoulders back against his chest, plate carrier digging into your shoulderblades. “Only two fingers, aren’t you acting like a fucking prince today.”

“You’re lucky you got that much,” he snaps back, groaning when his cock springs free of his trappings, and he strokes it beneath you. Monster fucking thing it is, long enough you can see the swollen, leaking head between your legs, even as you’re still hovering. There’s no give in the skin, and the head is a needy red with arousal, completely slipped from his foreskin. “Put it in.”

You ignore his order, writhing against him, your discomfort only ramping up your arousal. It’s nightmarish how badly you actually want his cock fed into you, desperate to have anything to fill the void his fingers left in you, and, shit, it would be so much sweeter and smoother than the gloves. Hot and throbbing, his precum mixing with your slick–it’s going to be so loud. 

“It’s your dick, you figure it out,” you hiss, wrestling your shoulders up just enough to piss him off. His other arm moves up to your ribs, slamming you back down against him. 

“Nein,” he seethes, as close to your throat as he can get, and you hear him suck back spit. Wonder if you busted his lip on the way down. Trained himself too hard not to do that otherwise, because of the harelip he’s hiding under the hood. “I said put it in, Schatzi.”

His laugh is airier this time, when you cuss him and comply, thinned out with need. He shudders into you as you brush your fingers over the length–teasing bulging veins and hot, thin skin–trying to scoop him up. He squeezes you tighter, letting out a furnace-bellow breath, as you tease the head through your wet folds, stupid fly-by-night sex-trigonometry screeching through your head as you find the angle you both need to get him in. He drops his free hand on your thigh, pulling you further open, giving himself a handle to hold.

As soon as his big cockhead plugs your hole and seals a seal with the wet, you fly to grip both his wrists, nerves on high alert. For good cause, as well, because instantly, he starts fucking up into you with harsh thrusts, constricting all around you with bruising force.

The sheer mass of him is over-fucking-whelming, and white spots crackle in your vision as you pant, trying desperately to relax and accept him into your body. Usually–when he’s sweeter and taking his time with you, not punishing you for a perceived slight like he is now–he is slower, considerate, almost hesitant until you dig your spurs into his sides, demanding he cut loose. 

This time he’s forcing you to ride him, emptying and filling you in deeper and deeper strokes, forcing you to take his cock. Somehow it still feels right, just being full of him, aching with it, pussy hungrily sucking him in, wanting more and more and more.

But, god dammit, you can’t just let him get away with this. You fuck back down against him, trying to meet his rhythm with the little movement he affords your bound body, the sound of his boots grinding for purchase in the substrate, your combined dead-sprint breathing, and his balls slapping wet against your ass breaking the utter still-life quiet of the woods. 

“Insertion specialist,” you bite, throwing your head back against his shoulder to belt out your whimpering laughter, and, oh, that burns him. 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his helpless thrusting turning focused, dragging you down in hard thrusts, hitting your cervix with every deep, powerful stroke. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re left speechless, probably what he wanted. 

It puts you in a trance state, your eyes unfocused looking up at the canopy as he uses you. A wet, liquid-gold heat starts building pressure behind your pelvis, and a frantic harebrained thought tells you that you have to piss. It only gets worse when he drops his hand back between your legs, putting a finger on either side of your clit, his intent clear.

“Wait,” you wheeze, barely surfacing the trance, rolling your eyes wildly toward him, finding his focus is between your legs. “Wait, König, I–”

“Just fucking take it,” he cuts you off, and it’s not entirely cruel. He’s forcing an orgasm on you, maybe the thought crawled up out of the part of his heart where his empathy lives, the part he hides until his real-boy-skin-suit has fallen away in tatters. You know what’s underneath. You love him for what he is.

You squirt when you come, pouring down his cock, soaking your thighs. Your cunt tries to push him out, but he belligerently stays buried, riding it out with you, and he whimpers as you spasm and ripple around him, biting your shoulder through his mask and the gaiter beneath it. It’s a dull pressure, and you wish it was sharper.

“Oh my god,” you keen, trying to turn and hide your face, trying to draw your legs back together as wave after wave of pleasure rock your body, your stomach turning in benign shame. König praises you, “Good, good, good, good,” his words falling away into a German blur that you have a hard time translating.

“Arch your back, curl up,” he tells you in his native language, his command voice withering, getting lost as he gets closer. He’s gotten fatter in your swollen cunt, and he throbs against your walls. His balls are pulled up so tight, you can feel them against your lips on the upstroke. 

All you can do is listen, lifting off of him and curving like you’re living through an exorcism. 

Doesn’t that make him lose his goddamned mind. Moans like a shocked virgin getting his first piece of pussy, in tandem with the cry you release, sliding in at a new angle. He can’t even help himself, he’s just stupid with pleasure, chasing it. All the bite and venom he had floods out of him, and he’s just a panting, greedy, whimpering mess, holding on to you because he needs an anchor, because he needs you.

He pushes up onto the balls of his feet, leaving the tree completely, forcing you back against him in the cage of his body. Your legs slide open over his thighs, and you’re dependent on him to keep from falling face-first in the forest floor and eating shit. He keeps you up, clutching to you, fucking you with short, fast thrusts, the soaking wet sounds of his cock demanding everything your cunt can deliver obscene, carnal.

Your idiot hand grabs for his hood as it hangs over your shoulder, spilling dumb swears and nonsense, “Fuck–oh, fucking–god dammit, König, you’re. I can’t,” that he meets with simple begging, “Bitte, bitte, Schatzi, bitte, Ich brauche, bitte, Ich brauche–”

His form staggers, and he takes a knee, locking up tight, letting out a thin, high-pitched cry of shock as he cums, flooding you completely in big jets. The pressure is uncomfortable and delirious, but you try to tighten around him, hold as much as you can. 

Both of your heads ring in the immediate aftermath. You can suddenly tell that both of you reek, the scent of twelve-hours worth of stakeout body odor mixing with musk, sex, and cum. You can tell by how his mouth sounds as he pants and tries to collect himself and work through his intense but inescapable post-nut shame that he’s dehydrated. You are, too, your head pounding. And, just because you know him, and you know how you work as a team, you don’t need to look at either of set of your shaking hands to know both of your blood sugar is utterly fucked.

Slowly, he lumbers back up against the tree, his touch turning softer. You flop back against him, winching when his cock slips out of you, hanging glistening and messy between his legs. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breathing. His arms come up again–not to pin you in place, but to hug and hold you. You pat the scant sliver of bare skin between his gloves and the cuff of the ghillie suit.

Only occurs to you right now how stupid you two must’ve looked. Like a monkey fucking a football. Or maybe two bushes getting battered around in a storm. You snort a weary laugh, and he shakes his head, nosing deeper. He’s asking for quiet. You give it, letting your eyes slip closed as his cum drips out of you.

A few minutes later, he stirs, kneading your sides with his fingers. Mean-König has fucked off, you can already tell. It’s not KorTac-König, either, the one that’s nasty and loud and abrasive. This is just König. The slice of him that you know the first and last name of. The one that takes you on dates, and to go grocery shopping at Lidl–who lets you kiss his harelipped mouth, who lets you moisturize and massage the gummy wads of keloid burn scars eating up the left side of his face and neck, from when he was burnt by boiling sugar as a child, when they feel tight and miserable.

For convenience, and knowing you’re both going to seek it out, you unclip your helmet straps, letting them tumble off your heads. Further, you reach back and pull the hood off over his head, dropping it over your thigh, and pull your mask down as he pulls down his gaiter.

He helps you shift enough that you’re lying on your side over him, wet, soft cock pressing into your naked thigh. He sighs when you kiss him, light, quick, over and over, never really leaving his lips. He’ll be needy for the rest of the night.

His pupils are slowly going back down to a normal size, and the blue is coming back, all puppy-eyed and wet as he presses your foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rough. Or mean.”

You shrug. “You know I thought it was hot.” You give him simple facts, easy to chew and swallow while his teeth are hurting from his harshness. You think he’d probably ask you to pull them so he couldn’t do something like it again in the future, but that is simply not in his nature. Fanged, or not, his moods will come and go.

His hands tremble, going to his thighs, and he digs up a zippo and a pack of cigarettes, pressing them into you. “Could you light some for us, please.”

You do, giving him another kiss before you break to try to attend your given task. He helps stabilize your hands, and you end up with lit menthols, popping one between his lips. He inhales deeply, shuddering as he relaxes a physical notch.

You heavily pet his face, traveling his bone structure, and then down his neck. Start to focus on his chest and shoulders, because it will help him down the easiest. Even though he took charge today, you still readily slot into the process of leading aftercare, truncated as it is by being in the field. Almost literally.

“Think you’ll be up for more later?” you ask, digging your fingers into the spot behind his ear that always makes him lax. “Safehouse would let us take our time.”

He makes a grumbling noise, touching your noses together. “Want to love you. Not fuck.”

“Yeah, no. I couldn’t take another fuck tonight,” you snort in agreement, and, finally, he snorts back. “We need to get moving. Sun’s going down, and we need to report.”

He gathers you up for a final, lingering, sloppy kiss before he unwinds from you, knowing that you’re right. And, besides, there’s a safehouse looming on the horizon. 

[oatberrytea]

Ok, I didn't give up on my Sunflower save and instead did make a brand new save and plopped the house down; it seems ok so far! Despite the 200+ missing items message, not too much CC was actually missing, mostly rugs and paintings so I was able to have it back to normal pretty quickly. I played 10 sim days and there were only a few very minor glitches (mostly some sims taking a little long to move onto their next action) so we are good to go!

Since I did play 10 sim days though all the sims in the household (all 10 of them and 1 horse) got to know each other and a lot of friendships and 1 enemyship were formed, and even a little bit of romance!

My original plan was to play 5 sim days and then eliminate the sim with the lowest relationship score with Ofelia but since I played 10 sim days there is actually (and sadly) 2 sims with absolutely NO romance bar with Ofelia. These 2 sims will be going home but I want to post some gameplay pictures with all of them first because I had a really fun time with them all.

I didn't control anyone except Ofelia and only to tell her to repair the sinks and toilets that each broke 300 times. Every sim was pretty good about doing household chores and keeping themselves from dying all the while forming relationships so I was pleased.

I probably won't be doing any of the more "story" styled posts until after the 2 sims leave the house because it is just too hard to pose and control that many sims. I can't even get them in to CAS since I'm using MCC to have more than 8 sims in the house right now. I haven't been able to fix missing clothing or make up because I just got defeated with the idea of moving sims out of the house, editing them, then moving them back in (I already did it once just to quickly change incorrect eye colors and missing hairs for 10 sims).

Once I'm down to 8 sims (going to have Bebita, the horse, go stay with Chance until I get down to 7 sims and then she can return hehe) I will focus more on having "story" posts and more attention paid to special interactions and "events" with Ofelia and everyone else.

Ok, this is so long, but I'm finished explaining my plans! Thank you if you read this and see you in the next post 💙

[daegall]

☆ late night company.

➷ in which the Gods give you a shit day, and Aphrodite makes up for it.

pairing: son of poseidon!jeno x daughter of ares!reader

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slight angst, bff2l!AU

warnings: anxiety, injuries, reader is implied to be female!!

word count: 4k words

a/n: sorry if any opla readers get this i just suddenly got the urge to write for mr lee jeno bc <3 jeno tee hee !! also wtf this work has been sitting in my drafts for a whole 8 days i wanted to post it SO bad but i went out of country and didnt have my laptop </33

anw!!! bros the sunflower of 3 years is now jeno biased,,,, sorry hyuck i still love you

You feel your heart continuously spiraling in your chest. It's growing wild, crashing heartbeats uneven and quick. With every breath you breathe, you feel a dark, nervous pit in your stomach grow. 

Anxiety. 

One place you never fail to find yourself at when you're feeling especially weak, is none other than by the river. Oftentimes you spend your time skipping rocks or staring at the water, the tranquility bringing some kind of peace to you. 

However, none of those things seem to help tonight. 

You sit on the dock, playing and fiddling nervously with your fingers as your mind runs too fast for your liking. 

"You're on my property,"

A sudden voice to your right startles you, more than you'd like, yelping in surprise. 

And at your reaction, the person next to you instantly knows something is wrong.

It's Lee Jeno, son of Poseidon, heartthrob of all of Camp Half Blood. 

Someone who's stolen your heart.

Jeno stands there with a boyish smile on his face, a glint in his eyes shows no harm, though shines with charm. His hair is messy, which is normal for this late hour, but he seems as awake as ever. 

He's a big reason why you're in this state, and it seems to get worse and better at the same time as you observe his expressions. His eyebrows crease, in worry, lips that were previously smiling quickly transforming into a worried frown.

"Sorry," You mumble, frantically standing up. "I didn't realize,"

How did it even slip your mind? You're by the lake, he's the son of the God of the Seas, of course you're in his area. 

Before you can take a step forward, Jeno halts you, "No!" he reaches out with a hurry laced in his voice. "No, please stay,"

He could never forgive himself if he were to leave you alone in such a state. It's clear you're vulnerable. And for you to be just the slightest bit disturbed is a bad sign.

You've always been calm, composed, even in the heat of a battle, you were always so sure of yourself. Seeing you here, so oblivious about everything, your mind drifted somewhere far? Jeno can't help but worry.

"O-oh, okay," You nod, before awkwardly retracting your foot, taking it back right next to your other one. 

It's silent a moment after, with neither of you knowing what to say. All that can be heard is the quiet waves rippling through the lake, and the soft bristling of the trees brushing against each other. 

God, Jeno looks really cute tonight. 

It's rare to find him outside of his armor, paired with his sword, gifted from his father, and shield, looking fit for the title of a demi-god, and yet tonight you see him so human. He sports a bomber jacket, a random band t-shirt underneath, and a pair of basketball shorts. 

To put it simply, Lee Jeno looks very boyfriend material right now. 

To him as well, you look different from what you're usually looking like on a daily basis. Just like him, you look human. But in a different way. Once again, you look vulnerable. There's an obvious nervous glint in your eyes, unfocused and darting everywhere, and your form shrinks with every moment that passes, arms hugging to yourself. 

"Are you okay?" 

Jeno's voice is comforting, gentle, and yet it still manages to startle you. 

Why are you so uneasy tonight?

You don't respond. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. A moment passes, then another, but you can't seem to find your words. 

"No," You breathe out. In an instant, you feel your body relax when the truth finally comes out, relaxing further when Jeno seems to be unbothered by the fact, reaching out to you. 

You accept his offer, stepping closer to him, your fast heartbeat finally slowing when his hands gently search for comfort in yours, his thumbs rubbing gently at your skin. 

"I'm not okay,"

"I know,"

And when Jeno looks into your eyes, he doesn't think anything could hurt him more than this. He's been in countless battles, earned multiple injuries and scars, but there's a different kind of hurt when he sees the tears forming at your waterline. 

"Can you explain?" You find solace in his warm touch, following as he tugs at your arm. A silent invitation to his cabin. You don't pull away. Jeno glances at you for an answer, smiling softly when you nod simply. 

You can't explain it, but there's a feeling you have whenever you're around Lee Jeno. It's comforting, gentle, and you feel that you can be genuinely vulnerable around him. 

You think it's love. 

You date it back to last summer, when you had defeated him in a small spar together. Despite you winning, he was the one smiling brighter. It confused you at first. You thought maybe he was making fun of you, maybe he let you win, but a moment later, you realized it was admiration. 

The way his smile caused your own had your heart lifting, filling your head with thoughts you never thought you'd have for anyone.

When you went to Jaemin, son of Aphrodite, he thought you were dumb at first. How could you not see it? Lee Jeno had been harboring feelings for you for weeks, and finally, you felt the same. 

And just 2 weeks ago—13 days and 12 hours ago, to be exact, Jeno confessed his feelings. 

Feeling terrified and confused about what to do, you asked for time, time in which he gave you generously. 

You don't know why he's still nice to you, when you've been taking so damn long to answer him. 

You suppose he really does love you, you conclude it when he's taken you to sit with him on a couch. 

The cabin is quiet, so very quiet, it's a nice change from your cabin, full of life and busy people running left and right, with crafting tables in every corner, you like how quiet it is. 

Jeno sits patiently next to you, his hands still in yours. "How are you feeling now?"

You peer up at him, attempting to blink your tears away. "Better," You sigh, smiling lightly. It's natural, and unlike your usual bold smile, but Jeno feels absolutely lucky to be able to see it. 

"Will you tell me what's wrong?"

He means no harm, simply wanting to help you, but it still confuses you. How could he be so caring towards you?

You answer him, despite your mixed emotions, quietly mumbling, "I've just had a really shit day." Your head turns away from him, almost embarrassingly, pursing your lips.  

Jeno's hand releases from yours, and although you instantly miss its warmth, his fingers find itself caressing at your jaw lovingly, before he turns your head back to him. He looks at you with care, so lovingly that it almost overwhelms you, as he speaks, "Tell me about it,"

Something about Lee Jeno just makes you want to melt, to depend fully on him and be loved, to love him. It scares the shit out of you. 

"I lost a sparring," You mumble. Jeno can't help but chuckle a little. To others, losing a practice battle is routine, everyday, but it means so much to you it makes him feel proud of how passionate you are. 

However, there's something you're not telling him. He can feel it. 

"And then?"

"And then my siblings were constantly at my neck because of it."

Truth be told, it's not just today's battle. You've been off for 2 whole weeks, and for good reason. 

But feeling this way... it feels so foreign to you. You hate that Jeno has such a hold on you, such an effect on you, plaguing your mind and constantly being reminded of him from the smallest things, it's new. 

But another part of you longs for more, for more change, to explore this new thing, to be happy with Jeno. 

"I feel weak," You tell him. You feel even weaker when he hums in understanding, feeling the warmth of his fingers caress your skin. His hand is still on your jaw, now wiping away the stray tears you didn't even realize you had let slip, oh so gently and carefully. 

"I'm supposed to be strong, like my siblings, like my father. But I can barely control my emotions and actions and sometimes I just feel so... useless? I'm Ares’ daughter, for fucks sake. The God of war. I-I should be able to fight with no problem, win every fight. Isn't that what I was made for?" 

You can sense Jeno's growing concern, you can feel it with each hush he lets out when you cry a little harder, you can feel it now that he's let both of your hands go to cup dearly at your cheeks, and you hate that you yearn for more. 

Why must you appear so weak in front of Lee Jeno? 

"I know it's just my emotions and whatnot, but... god, I don't want to disappoint people anymore,"

Jeno shakes his head, squeezing gently at your cheeks. "Don't say that. You don't disappoint anyone,"

"I disappoint my father—I disappoint myself." You say instantly, and it's clear it's a thought you've had for a long time. "I disappoint you..."

Jeno's eyes desperately search for yours, his face leaning in close to yours. "Hey, hey, look at me,"

His voice lulls you to a calmer state, as he shakes his head lightly, and despite all that you've said, how much of a burden you've been to him, he smiles at you. How can he smile at you? When you've been nothing but so frustrating tonight? 

"You could never disappoint anyone," Jeno mumbles firmly, stroking at your cheek. "not me, at least,"

For months on end, Jeno has watched you beat yourself up for the smallest things you do wrong. A small mistake during a spar, tactics failing in a game of capture the flag, even when you get the date wrong you never cease to criticize yourself.

You've got high expectations. Expectations even you yourself can't reach. 

"Don't you see? I'm disappointing you right now," You breathe out. It's full of anguish, distress, as if to prove a point. A point that Jeno can never see. "I'm being such a burden, you shouldn't even have to take care of me—"

"—I want to take care of you." Jeno interjects immediately. "I need to know you're safe. I don't care if you think you're a burden, because I know you will never be one."

Through your sniffling, and wobbly lips, a smile is somehow curling on your lips, as your hands creep up to circle around Jeno's wrists. 

"There's that smile," He whispers, with the brightest grin you might ever see, a smile even Apollo, the God of sun and light could never beat. 

Jeno leans in close, before he presses his lips gently to your cheek, cleaning you of your tears. Each kiss he leaves on your skin spreads warmth within you, like a fire growing bigger and bigger, until it consumes your whole soul.

This time, you welcome the fire, finally feeling secure within Jeno's arms. 

What have you been so worried about? Lee Jeno may be oblivious at times, but he's not dumb. He's genuine, he's caring and loving and he's the same person who confessed his love for you 13 days ago, the same heart, the same mind, the same Jeno. 

So, you fall into him. You don't care if it's terrifying, or if you have a few bumps on the way, because Jeno is your safetynet. He always has been, and will always continue to be your safetynet. 

You just hope Jeno feels the same for you. 

You're brought back to reality when Jeno pecks lightly at your nose, his laugh resonating through the room right after he sees your shocked face. 

"You know I like you, right?"

You've known for 13 days and 12 hours. Even with all that time to process his confession, it's like he's saying it for the first time, as he holds your face dearly, as he stares into your eyes with so much emotion, it almost overwhelms you. He says it as if he means it. 

And he does. 

"I know," You know with all your heart. You melt when he smiles sweetly down at you, your throat burning with the urge to tell him that you like him too, hell you might even love him. Your fingers tingle, yearning for his touch, your heart burning for him. But he doesn't deserve it. Not after how long you made him wait for a response. 

You don’t understand how Jeno could ever look at you the way he is right now, his eyes shining with such a dear look in them, his lips curling lightly. You know you look like a mess, with your puffy eyes and wet cheeks, how could anyone see the worst side of you and still love you?

You suppose it’s the pressure you get from all your tough siblings, standards way too high for you to reach, but you know you would feel the same if Jeno was crying in your arms as well. 

“Good.” He mumbles. “It won’t change.”

A sensation hits you. Your heart jumps and you feel all of a sudden breathless. No amount of tears could take this much air from your lungs, and it’s not anxiety filling them. This time… it’s a warm feeling, it swirls and spreads all through you as Jeno continues. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Y/N, that I would stop liking you just because you didn’t answer me. But that’s not true,” He shakes his head, stroking at your cheeks as he scoots closer to you. His voice grows softer, but with the distance between you two, he’s never been clearer before. “I’ll wait for you. Forever, if I have to.”

Lee Jeno has you hypnotized, and you wonder if this is what sirens are like, because he’s all that you want suddenly, you feel so dizzy and hazed with… love. You love him, goddamn it, and he loves you too. 

“Just… take your time, okay? I want your answer to come from you, your heart. Not from your siblings, or father, or even me. I want your truth,”

And your truth is him. It stupid to think, but you truly do think that you were made to be with Lee Jeno. 

When he pulls away, and finally gives you some (very unwanted) space, you decide to tell him. 

“Jeno,” You breathe out. You’re sure the sounds of waves outside his window can easily beat your volume, but you’re more sure Jeno hears you, as his eyebrows shoot up instantly, and he hums, leaning in close. He’s always so tentative to you, you’ve always loved this trait about him. 

“It��s been two weeks–”

“–I said you don’t need to–”

“–I want to,”

This time, it’s him who goes speechless, and you can almost see the pink in his cheeks growing under the dark light of his cabin. “Go on,” He finally says. 

“Thank you,” You reply. “As I was saying, it’s been two weeks, and I’m ready to give you my answer.”

Jeno’s shocked when you reach over, fingers brushing over his, as you take his hands in yours. “I’ve… always been held under some sort of expectation, always being watched, waiting for some victory, and I hated it. I still do,”

Jeno’s heart softens, as does his eyes as he listens, knowing very well what you are talking about. You’ve isolated yourself countless times when you are unable to reach the expectations, afraid to show anyone emotion. 

“and god, did I want to give up. I’m sick of my siblings always picking at my every flaw, judging every step I take. I felt trapped. But you… you’re the opposite. I feel so free around you, it scares the shit out of me. I think about you constantly, day and night, when I’m training or just reading a book, every tiny thing reminds me of you and it’s honestly scary. And you have no expectations for me, it was confusing at first, but I understand now. I don’t have any for you, either. I love how competitive you are, and how you’re still so humble despite being a child of one of the big three’s, and how you take care of everyone, even people you don’t know, and hell–I find your lame jokes funny. I never minded when you’d watch over me, if anything, I loved it. And I was confused what it was at first,”

You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, Your heart beats loud in all your senses, you feel it rising at your throat, tingling at your fingers that Jeno caresses, but it’s okay. It’s Jeno, he could never hurt you.

“But I know now.” Your eyes flutter open, and in a second, your nerves fly away. Jeno’s looking at you with so much love, patiently waiting for you to finish, so you do. 

“I like you, Jeno. I might even love you,”

You both grow silent after that. 

Once again, you grow anxious. 

Holy shit, did he lose feelings in the span of your 2 minutes spent ranting to him?

And when you’re about to lose all hope of an acceptance, Jeno’s fingers tighten around yours the moment they attempt to slip away. 

Alarmed, your eyes slowly trail back up to his face, unable to read his expressions. 

Jeno sighs. “Say it again?”

“The… the whole thing? I mean, I could,” You mumble. You’re serious. You could recite the whole thing if he wanted word-by-word, you’d do anything for Lee Jeno right now. 

When he doesn’t say a word, you suspect it’s what he’s genuinely asking for, clearing your throat to start over once again. “right, okay, uh… how did I start?”

Suddenly, you realize that you are not capable of reciting the whole thing word-by-word. It had all come out with its own flow, you had absolutely no control of your mind, nor did you even think you’d have to say the whole thing again. 

Despite that, you still try. “Um–I was always told I had expectations… is that what I said? I don’t know, I don’t really remember. Just something about um, feeling trapped, or something… and feeling free around you? Is that… I think that’s what I said.”

Stupidly, you keep going, knowing fully well that you can’t repeat the deep and touching moment. Jeno finds it so very endearing that you try, however, unable to find it in himself to actually stop you, when you look so cute holding onto his hands and trying to remember your words. 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter, but after that I said something about, uh, you being a child of Poseidon? God, I can barely remember. Anyway, you’re cool, Jeno, you really are–”

Suddenly, your mouth clamps shut. A warmth envelops your chin, lips, to your cheeks, before you realize Lee Jeno has his hand covering your mouth, shutting you up. You’re surprised to see a grin on his lips, even more so when he starts chuckling, taking his hand off to ruffle it gently on the top of your head. “Not that part,” He finally says. 

“Then… which part?” The way you look at him, Jeno almost thinks you’re doing it all on purpose. Your eyes shining just for him, your confused scrunch on your eyebrows, how could he ever fall more in love with you?

“You love me?”

Oh. That part. 

“...yeah,” You breathe out, growing shy. It takes you a moment, before you remember his words. 

Say it again.

“I think I’m in love with you, Jeno,”

At your words, he seems to grow tense, but it’s different from all the sparring matches you’ve had with him. He has a huge smile on his face, his eyes creasing into little moons, moons in which you love, the smile that you long to see everyday. How did it take you so long to decide you love him?

“I think I’m in love with you too, Y/N.”

“Okay, cool,” You nod, attempting to act cool. The Gods know how you really feel, your heart beating as fast as ever, shit eating grin growing on your face as his hands slip in yours once more, as you lean into him. “that’s super cool,”

“mhm, yeah, really epic,” Jeno mirrors your attitude, you can tell he’s growing shy. You know from the way his voice dies down a little, growing small with mumbles, you know from the way he curls his body slightly, but he’s still as confident as ever, bumping his forehead with yours. 

You chuckle at the action, shutting your eyes to savor the moment. 

At that moment, you both silently thank Aphrodite, for guiding the both of you here, right now. 

Your eyes open once again, and you find Jeno already staring at you. You offer him a smile, one that he welcomes, and returns with his own bright grin. His mouth opens slightly for a moment, but nothing comes out. Jeno blinks, thinking hard to himself. 

You wonder what he could be thinking about, but before you could wonder more, or even ask what’s on his mind, he speaks. 

“Can I… kiss you?”

You chuckle lightly at his words, bringing your forehead away from his as your head throws back in soft laughter. Albeit confused, Jeno still watches, his heart burning with every laugh you let out. 

“You know you don’t have to ask, right?” You finally say as you stop laughing. “Go ahead,”

Jeno smiles, and his face is so close to yours that he could smile against your own. Your noses brush, eyes slowly shutting, and his warm lips envelop yours. It feels tender, soft, gentle, and loving, his hands wrapping slowly around your waist. Kissing Jeno is different from what you’ve always thought kissing him would be like. It’s comforting, not rushed. It’s welcoming, it feels like home, where you’ve always belonged. 

Jeno feels the exact same thing, his lips curling and shifting between yours as your hands hold dearly at his jaw, caressing at his skin. 

When you pull away, all that resonates through the Poseidon cabin is your shallow breathing, and sounds of the soft waves hitting shore, and it couldn’t be more perfect. In Jeno’s arms, worrying about nothing, thinking about nothing but him. 

“Stay the night?”

“What?”

Jeno’s eyes widen as he realizes his abrupt words, his mouth gaping. “N-no! Not like that!”

You both know it’s not like that. You find it cute that he still says it, anyway. 

“I-I mean, your siblings upset you, right? You don’t want to go back to your cabin–unless you want to! Of course, it’s your choice, completely,”

And they say chivalry is dead. 

All you can do is continue to stare at him as he goes on and on, admiring the way his cheeks grow red, and his rushed words, you wonder if this is how Jeno felt when you ranted before. 

“I, personally, don’t want you going somewhere you don’t feel safe in, you know? With people who have hurt you. We could just hang out, talk, or something. I can show you a bunch of stuff my dad left for m–”

This time, Jeno’s shocked, blinking at you as your hand envelops his lips to halt his ranting.

“I’d love to stay over,” You mumble, dropping your hand from his face. “you’re the only one I feel safe with right now,” 

Jeno finally grins, feeling love resonate through his body, reaching out to place his palm on your cheek. The love spreads and multiplies as you lean into his palm, like a disease, but you know if that was the case you would have been infected for a long time already. 

“...so can I check out Poseidon’s trident?”

“Oh, for sure. That thing’s huge.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | TWO

Chapter Summary | A proper date has Marcus falling even further into his lie about who he is, but when you're as beautiful as you are, he can't find it in himself to care all that much.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Word Count | 4.7K

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus continues to go along with a lie, art gallery date (I know nothing about art so go easy on me), romantic rain kisses, a dinner date featuring food and alcohol, two idiots slowly falling in love. Explicit smut - oral sex (f&m), a smattering of exhibitionism, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, some light somno (Marcus wakes you up eating you out), absolutely filthy talk, finger sucking, cumplay and I think that covers everything!

Authors Note | This..... well, what can I say. It simply fell out of me once I got into the swing of things - I wanted to make Professor Pike filthy and I think I've managed it. I'd love to know your thoughts, so feel free to comment, reblog or send me asks about this! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Marcus is stood at the bottom of the steps to the National Gallery, easy to spot in the crowd. He’d not really left your mind for the entire week, your lips still holding the ghost of his, the feel of his palm against your ass still branded onto your skin. You’d talked almost every day, texts back and forth, the usual thing when you were getting to know someone, but when he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, and then flashing that smile at you, he’s even more gorgeous than you’d remembered.

He grasps your hand in his own and leads you up the steps and into the gallery. He picks one of the free maps up and grabs a pen from his back pocket, telling you to circle three rooms. You’ve been here before and know exactly the paintings you want to see so it’s an easy task. He does the same, citing that if you wander aimlessly, you’ll be here all day, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he’s got dinner reservations you have to keep.

Marcus picks Sunflowers by Van Gogh first, the bright yellow flowers bring you joy whenever you see them, especially so in these dark, winter months when life is so scarce. You insist on seeing The Fighting Temeraire because it reminds you of your grandfather, the reason you love art so much.

“I remember coming here with him when I was very small,” You explain, stood in front of the painting, “We stood here for so long, and I just remember thinking I wanted to learn more about it all.”

The rest of the afternoon slips by like that, showing each other paintings until you’ve run out. You’re stood in front of Marcus’ last pick, The Garden of Love. Somewhere along the afternoon, he’s taken hold of your hand, fingers entwined with yours.

“You can see the brush strokes,” He muses, pulling you in front of him, your back dangerously close to his front, his free hand pointing over your shoulder, “Lean forward, you can see them, I promise.”

And he’s right, his back pressed to yours to push you forward so you can see them. His mouth right by your ear as he talks you through what you can see, the stray brush hairs and the way the grass has been painted to give it movement. There are goosebumps flowing across your skin, before he remembers when you are and moves away from you slightly, letting your heartbeat return to normal.

There’s a moment where he checks his watch, then he takes hold of your hand and starts dragging you from the gallery - paintings blurring as you have to run a little to keep up with the pace. When you reach the front entrance, you hear it before you see it, the downpour of rain, fat droplets hitting the ground, forming puddles. You curse the fact you hadn’t properly checked the weather before leaving.

You look to Marcus, who holds up a finger, drops your hand slightly, then steps over to the side where a burly security guard nods his head toward Marcus and takes a step out of the way. There’s a small umbrella stand behind him and you watch as Marcus reaches over and plucks one of the umbrellas from it.

“Thanks, Mike, see you next week buddy.”

Mike tips his hat to Marcus, and then at you when he clutches your hand in his once more, adding a wink and a knowing smirk towards you like he knows exactly what's going to happen for the rest of the day.

You step into the downpour, letting Marcus hover the umbrella over the two of you. He stops, lets you take in the surroundings - Trafalgar Square bathed in darkness and soft light from the streetlamp’s. You crane your neck to look up at Nelson’s column.

“I remember coming here when I was younger, with one of my friends, and trying to take a picture of me touching the top of it from down there,” You point your finger down towards Whitehall, you know exactly where you stood all those years ago, “Hold on,” You say, fishing your phone out of your pocket, opening up the camera roll and scrolling as far back as you can, to find the exact photo you’re talking about, holding it in front of him, Marcus laughs, because the tip of your finger is nowhere near the top of the column, “Not my best attempt, I must say.”

Pocketing your phone, you take a few steps to the left, starting off to your dinner reservation, when you feel the warmth of Marcus’ palm slip around your wrist, turning you around so you’re stood in front of him, toe-to-toe, your face tilted up at him.

He brings his free hand, the one not holding the umbrella, up to your cheek, and you feel his thumb brush over the skin there, ever-so gently, before he’s leaning down, lips across yours in a soft press. You step forward, moving close enough to him to wrap your arms around his neck - droplets of water from the edge of the umbrella dripping onto his jacket as he kisses you.

You can hear the rushing of the traffic around you, splashing through pools of water, and the chatter of people around you, locals and tourists alike, but none of it matters. Not when there’s that low pool of butterflies churning in your stomach, and certainly not when he pulls away, tip of his nose pressed to yours as you bite your lip a little, none of it matters except him.

“So, what does next week have in store for you?” Marcus asks, sipping on his glass of wine.

“Outside of trying to hit my weekly word count, I'm going to a public lecture that professor Pike is giving at UCL on Thursday.”

Marcus is mid-sip, choking slightly on it as he swallows, covering his mouth with his napkin to try and keep whatever this is under control.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concern dripping from your voice.

“Yeah,” He says, holding up a hand, coughing a little to clear his throat, “Sorry, swallowed wrong,” There’s another pause as he sips from his water, “That sounds interesting though, what is he lecturing on?”

“He’s lecturing on counterfeit art,” You explain, knife cutting through your steak, “He used to work for the FBI and I think the lecture supplements the release of his new book.”

“I had no idea he was an ex-agent,” Marcus shrugs, “Sounds interesting though, you’ll have to give me the rundown next time we meet.”

“You could always come with me?” You offer.

He smiles and lets out a little chuckle, “What time is it?”

“It starts at 6:30.”

You watch as he chews on his food, thinking for a moment, “I might be able to make it, I’ll have to let you know how teaching goes that day, but it definitely sounds interesting,” You pick up your wine to sip at it, “But if I can’t make it, we can certainly do something next weekend, okay?”

He politely insists on going back to your place once the meal is over. Apparently not expecting this was to go so well, he hadn’t tidied and didn’t want you to think bad of him when your eyes glanced over the mess. It’s endearing to you, and you’re only more than welcome to have him over. The bed needs christening anyway.

Marcus holds you hand this time on the walk from the station. It’s dark and cold but thankfully the rain has stopped. He pulls you away from the edge of the pavement when a car threatens to splash you as it passes you, then insists that you walk on the inside so you don’t get wet. It’s those small things that make you smile, that make your tummy flutter, makes you realise he knows how to treat someone.

It makes you think about the last person who had been in his position - never getting this far, mainly due to the fact that on the second date he insisted that you made him feel stupid when you spoke about your research. You wanted to tell him that was because he was, but you held your tongue, let him pay for dinner and then told him you didn’t see things working out.

When you let the two of you into your apartment, you flick on some of the lamps instead of the big light and watch as he walks to the long windows that look out onto the garden. You’re a few floors up, looking down on the garden from a height and you can see a few people milling around, illuminated in the dark by the orange glow of the lounge lights from the ground floor.

“Nice place.” Marcus murmurs, hands in his pockets as he looks out of the window.

“Yeah, I can’t deny it,” You smile, “Do you want a drink?”

He turns to face you, “Not really.” He speaks with a smirk.

He holds out a hand, palm upright to the ceiling. You wander over to him and let your own hand slip into this, relishing the feeling of his hand closing over yours, gently dragging you towards him. The way his other arm slips around the small of your back is effortless, as is the way he pulls your entire body to his, mouth slanting over yours in a soft kiss.

It’s over too quickly for your liking, but then he’s bringing both is his hands up to your face, clutching your cheeks in his palms, “You look beautiful in this light.” He murmurs, looking at you, warm. orange glow from your lamps illuminating you perfectly.

“So do you.” You almost whisper, letting your hands grip at the edges of his jacket, smiling as he lets you push it off his body.

“What do you want?” He asks softly, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Looking up at him, bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt, you undo the first two of his buttons, “What do you think I want?”

“I wouldn’t want to assume,” He speaks back, the zip of your jacket caught between his thumb and pointer finger, slowly dragging it down, inch-by-inch, “I want to hear it.”

You bring your hand up to cover his then, slowly pushing it down until your jacket it fully unzipped, “I want you to take my clothes off,” You say with a flutter of your eyelashes, “And then I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk straight.”

Your hand lets go of his, letting his shove your jacket off your shoulders to fall to the floor. That hand sinks down his chest until your palm runs across the front of his jeans, bulge evident as you press more firmly, biting your lip as he gasps.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth.” He groans, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Marcus.” You wink, slowly falling to your knees in front of him.

He tangles a hand in the hair at the back of your neck and pulls gently, making you look up at him, “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Marcus doesn’t protest again, just looks down at you, sitting pretty on your knees, and raises his eyebrows as if to tell you that if you want it, you can take it. Your fingers work his belt open, pull it through the loops of his trousers, before it’s added to the pile of discarded clothes so far. You work the button open, and slowly drag his zipper down, before you hook your fingers into the waistband, dragging his trousers and his underwear down to his knees in one go.

It takes all of your willpower to ignore the gentle bob of his cock right in front of your face. He’s big, probably the biggest you’ve ever seen. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, pumping your fist slowly, as you bring your lip to every inch of skin around his cock, pressing hot, wet open-mouth kisses all along the small swell of his belly, until you can hear his laboured breathing and his hand is tightly fisted in your hair.

You pull back, finally dragging your hand all the way up the length of his cock, letting your thumb trace gently over the head, swiping the pearly bead of precum that sits there, swirling it over the head. Then, you lean forward, eyes strained to keep them locked on his own, as you press a single kiss to the weeping head of his cock, tongue darting out just a little to taste him.

“Jesus Christ,” You can hear Marcus mutter from above you, “Darling you’ve got to put me out of my misery.”

Looking into his pleading eyes, those brown orbs glossed over with wet, practically begging you to stop teasing him are too much, so you do indeed put him out of his misery. Opening your mouth, letting the head of his cock rest there just a moment, letting your tongue tease the underside of him just a little, before you wrap your lips around him and hollow out your cheeks, letting your mouth slide down his length as much as possible until he hits the back of your throat, the length you cannot fit into your mouth still has your fist working it.

His back is to the window, the streetlights and the glow from the apartment building across the garden is bathing him in an angelic light. He leans back, letting his back rest against the pristine glass as you move your mouth up and down his cock, letting him hit the back of your throat, the free hand that isn’t pumping at the rest of his length coming up to cup his balls, gently massaging them.

You can feel his hands scoop your hair up, gather it at the back of your head so he can look down and see your face as his cock disappears into the wet cavern of your mouth. It’s sloppy, there’s saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, and when you pull off him to catch your breath, running your fist along his length, it’s soaked - line of saliva connecting him to your mouth.

“You getting it nice and wet, baby?” He asks, voice strained, “Getting it nice and wet so it slips into your pussy nice and easy?”

You’re about to put your mouth back on him when he brings one of his hands to clutch at your chin, shaking his head. He pulls you up to your feet, turns himself around so you’re the one in front of the window. His hands on your waist move you so you’re facing outward, looking at the darkness of the garden below.

Marcus reaches around your body, chin resting on your shoulder so he can see what he’s doing as he undoes each of the buttons of your shirt. He pulls it off your shoulders, discards it to be forgotten on the floor.

He trails his hands up the exposed skin of your ribcage, letting his palms rest over the cups of your bra. He squeezes gently once, then again with a tighter grip, then he’s trailing his fingers around your back to the clasp, where he manages to undo it without any trouble, letting that fall to the ground too.

You’re acutely aware that if anyone was to look up from the ground below, they would be able to see exactly what was going on, but when his warm hands come up to cup the weight of your tits in his palms, fingers rolling your nipples into stiff peaks, you can’t find it in yourself to care, you only tip your head back onto his shoulder and sigh in pleasure as his hot mouth starts sucking at the skin of your neck.

One of his hands wanders, skimming down the skin of your belly, past the waistband of your skirt and tights, until his hand is cupping your sex, hot through the cotton of your underwear. His fingers trail down, right to where your aching cunt is leaking for him, wet patch clearly evident on the material.

“Fuck me,” He groans, pushing himself into you, the hardness of his cock grinding against the material covering your ass, “You’re fucking soaked for me baby.”

You can feel him drag his hand back up, just slightly, until it’s slipping under the material this time. Finally his hand is right where you want it. You can feel his fingers slipping between your folds, inching down until they’re mixing in the pool of slick, dragging upwards until his finger finds your clit. He presses gently, circling slowly but it still makes your knees buckle. Marcus steadies you with one hand around your waist.

“Careful, baby,” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe, “Don’t want you to fall.”

You’d have a smart retort if his fingers hadn’t rendered you silent. You close your eyes, let yourself focus on those precise circles of his fingers, moving your hips in time to his movements. You bring an arm up, wrap it around his neck and turn your face, feeling his lips find your own, mouth open and tongue melding with yours.

Marcus lets his fingers move from your clit and you let out a whine of protest, until you feel him slip two of them straight into your cunt, as far as he can fit them, curling them gently against that spot inside you that has you falling forward, palms against the glass of the window.

You feel his spare hand grip at the hem of your skirt, shoving it up to bunch at your lower back, that hand then falling to grip your ass through the dark material of your tights. His fingers are tight against your skin, gripping you, spreading you, as his fingers continue to work inside you. He pressed just perfectly into one spot, making you cry out. You can feel the tightening in your core, feel your pussy flutter around his fingers.

“Oh baby,” He coos, “Are you going to come?” You nod your head, “Tell me,” He demands, hand moving up to tear your tights down and over your ass, “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Marcus,” You whine, moving your hips down in time to the upwards movements of his fingers into your cunt, the slick there causing a lewd squelch each time he does it, “Fuck, please, it feels so good.”

“Please?” He chuckles, dragging your body back up from it’s slouched position, “Please what?”

“Make me come.”

And so he does. He curls his fingers, sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and works your body perfectly, until you’re whining and wiggling against him. He drags his fingers from your pussy, drags them back up to your clit, circles it maybe three or four times and then he’s flinging you over the edge, tight coil snapping in your tummy, pleasure blooming everywhere as those fingers work you through every second of your climax.

You’re boneless now, pussy throbbing, sweaty skin sticking to the skin he’s got on show, as he moves you gently towards your bed. He lies you down on your back, strips you of everything else you’re still wearing, and then steps back, taking off each item of his clothing that he still has on. You watch him unwrap himself in front of you, your hand drifting between your legs, spread for him and on show. It doesn’t matter that you’re sensitive, you let your fingers dance lightly across your clit, spreading yourself open for him.

“Like a work of fucking art, baby. ” He murmurs, knees sinking into the bed as he settles between your thighs.

He swats your hand away from your cunt, leans forward to kiss you as he gently slips two of his fingers back inside your pussy. He pulls back, brings his slicked fingers to his mouth and makes a show of sucking them clean, just inches from your face.

“Taste so good baby,” He speaks, letting those two fingers find your aching hole, pressing inside once more, and you think he’s going to do it again, but this time, when he drags those fingers from you, he grips your chin, making your mouth fall ope, “Taste yourself.” He orders, watching you as your tongue slips out, inviting his fingers in.

You make just as much of a show as he did, sucking his two fingers into your mouth, tongue dipping between them to suck them clean. When he’s satisfied, he kisses you again, lets his tongue mix with yours, not just his taste now, but the taste of your cunt on his tongue too - musky but sweet.

“I want to fuck you so bad, baby.” He murmurs into your ear, settling himself into a position where you can feel his cock dragging through your wet folds.

“Please,” You beg, “I want you so badly.”

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, nose nuzzling at the delicate skin behind your ear.

“I do,” You say, “But I take the pill and I’m clean.”

He pushes back, body resting over yours, chest pressed against your tits, “You want me to fuck you bare?”

“I want you to fuck me bare, Marcus,” You whisper, hands cupping his face, “I want you to fill me up.”

“You’re something else.” He speaks softly, one of his hands reaching between you to guide his cock down, head nudging at your aching cunt.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just presses himself into you, feeding you every inch of his cock as slowly as he can manage. With every inch, your head tips back, until he’s fully inside of you, tip of his cock kissing at your cervix, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” He groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “You’re tight as a fucking fist baby girl.”

“So big,” Is all you manage to choke out as he starts moving, slowly dragging his cock out of you to push back in, “I’m so full.”

“That’s right baby,” He agrees, pushing himself up onto his palms that are planted on either side of your face, “So full of my cock, right?”

This position allows him a little more freedom to move his hips, which he does, dragging out of you and then pushing his cock back into you with a little more force and it makes you fucking sing. He feels so good, cock brushing at all the right spots inside you as he speeds up a little. You look down between your bodies, watching his length spear into your pussy, watching it disappear inside you with every thrust.

“I won’t…” Marcus sighs, “I’m not gonna last long baby.”

“I don’t care,” You sigh, “I wanna feel you.”

Marcus picks a rhythm - rough thrusts of his hips that have his cock hitting at the depths of you, his head dipping down to take one of your nipples into his mouth - worrying at it with his teeth and then soothing it with his tongue. You’re so close, you can feel another orgasm right there on the cusp, so close that you can feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes. When you close them, you feel a trail of tear drip down and settle in pools in your ears.

“No need to cry baby,” Marcus soothes, letting his mouth lick at the trails of tears from your eyes, “I got you, I can feel you, come for me again baby, it’s okay.”

He shifts positions slightly, dragging your legs up to rest on his shoulders, then he presses forward, folding you practically in half and then picks up his pace.

You’ve never felt like this, no-one has ever rendered you into such a wet, squealing mess before. Your nails are digging into his arms, leaving half-moon patterns there. Every punch of his cock inside you is pleasure mixed with a pang of pain. You can’t breathe, but you don’t care, because with each stroke of his cock you’re falling further and further, until you close your eyes, tip your head back and see starts as your second orgasm tears through you. You hear yourself scream for him, mouth dropped open as he loses whatever control he had before. It’s hard and it’s fast, and it’s all fucking worth it when he drops your legs and goes still.

Your name is falling from his lips like a chant, like a prayer at church as you feel his cock throb inside you, white hot cum painting every inch of the inside of you. He manages to keep his weight from collapsing onto you, pushing himself back on his knees instead, letting his cock slip from your tight heat.

You watch him as he holds your legs spread, watching his cum seep out of you. It’s performative and entirely unnecessary, but you dip a hand between your legs, use two of your fingers to spread yourself open and push lightly, letting him watch his cum pool at your hole, dripping down between the cheeks of your ass. You feel one of his fingers follow the trail, scooping it back up to press back inside your pussy, then, that fingers is slipped into your mouth.

“How do we taste baby?”

“Pretty good.”

In the moments that follow, once you’ve used the bathroom, the two of you settle under your sheets. Marcus on his back with you draped over his chest. He’s drawing shapes on your back, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as you slowly drift in and out of sleep.

When you wake, it’s still dark, the moon is high in the sky, and his face his buried between your thighs, leisurely eating at your cunt like he’s got all the time in the world. Your let your fingers tangle in his brown curls as he slowly works you up, tongue lapping at your clit softly until you’re writhing and twisting in the sheets as he makes you come for the third time that night.

He kisses you as he settles back down next to you. He turns you over so he’s pressed against your back, holds on of your legs up so he can push his cock into you again. You’re sore and spend and every muscle in your body aches, but he’s soft this time, rocking his hips into you from behind, slowly fucking you with his arms wrapped around you, both of you looking out into the darkness beyond the windows. He comes inside you for the second time that night, but neither of you make time to move. His cock slotted perfectly inside you, his cum leaking out slowly around him and down your thighs as you both fall asleep again.

In the morning, the storm has cleared and the low winter light wakes you up. The bed is empty, but still warm when you move onto your back, eyes adjusting to the light. Marcus is at the foot of the bed, doing up the last buttons on his shirt.

“I have to go.” He says simply, but with a tone that says he’d rather do nothing more than crawl back into bed with you.

“That’s okay,” You say, pushing yourself up, holding up the sheets to cover yourself, “Will you come back later?”

“Do you want me to come back later?” He asks, sitting on the side of the bed to slip his shoes on.

You shift slightly, moving so you can tuck a particularly unruly curl behind his ear, “I do.”

He turns, smiles at you, then kisses you softly, “Then yes, I’ll come back later.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

I'll Bring the Sun to You

Astarion x Reader

words: 650

rating: G

pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Vampire!Tav

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The crisp air brushed past your shoulder and through your hair. The smell of salt from the harbor clinging to it as you looked out over the water and its calm seas. You breathe in the air once more, deciding to head home. The sun would be up soon.

You hop down from your post and start the slow, sad walk back to the palace. Feeling guilty for feeling sad. Feeling sad for feeling guilty.

After Astarion turned you, he wasted little time before giving you his final gift and making you a true vampire. By the time of the party with all your friends, it was already done. And, since it was Astarion who turned you, the Ascended one, you had been granted unique abilities far beyond any ‘normal’ true vampire. As promised you were stronger, swifter, sharper. But one promise had not come true, and that was your freedom from the sun.

Though it was true you weren’t like other vampires or spawn, who would burn in an instant the sun touched them, you also weren’t as impervious as Astarion, who could walk about unharmed and immune. It was a shock to both of you. A set back. But there was nothing you could do.

You didn’t blame Astarion for turning you or overpromising his commitment in making you a true vampire. There had never been a vampire like Astarion was now before. And he had only been this way for a short time, still new in his own abilities. He had been cocky. Overconfident in what his new infallible power could provide him, and you. You tried not to dwell on it. What was done was done and could not be undone. But…still…

You missed the sun. You missed the warmth on your skin, the lighting, the colors. It hurt your heart to think of how long Astarion had to go on like that. 200 years of dark. No wonder he was so cranky sometimes.

Arriving back at the palace, you remove your cloak and decide to head straight to bed. Being just awake seemed like a chore at the moment.

Opening the door to your bedroom door, you were suddenly aghast when you found the room in a sea of yellow. Sunflowers. As far as the eye could see. They covered the room. Seeming to grow right out of the floorboards, the walls, the curtains. Everywhere.

“Hello my treasure,” You turn to finally notice Astarion in the room to your left. Dressed in one of his white outfits. Seeming very pleased with himself. “Do you like it?”

“Where did you get all these?” You ask. To which he just chuckled.

“I have my ways, darling.” He told you. “I thought this would cheer you up.”

It had. The amount of effort he’d put into this was overwhelming, along with just the sheer quantity of flowers.

Astarion came over and took your hand in his. “Consider it a place holder, until we can get you the real thing.”

“Astarion….” He cut you off with a wave of his hand. Refusing to hear it when you tried to tell him to be practical. This was your new reality, and both of you had to accept it.

“I won’t accept it.” Astarion stated. “Even if it takes us a century, a millennia, we will find a way for you to walk in the sun. Even if we have to recreate the ritual. I'm sure if we actually put those 7,000 spawn to good use rather than letting them rot like the fool Cazador was, we'll have you right as rain by summer. We have nothing but time now, after all, and each other.”

You sigh but let him have his moment. Let him have his dream of the two of you walking in the sun together again. It was a dream you shared. Only one of you was more realistic in realizing it was just a dream.

But, maybe there was a way for you to walk in the sun again. Astarion was right. You had nothing but time and each other now. That and sunflowers.

[blueflipflops]

I saw the post you made about punk-flower and the patch sharing jacket and I just wanted to ask if you have anything specific that you would like to expand on as I plan to write a fic for it!

I’ve been in a writing slump for months now and you’re post just inspired me again finally so I just wanted to see if there were any more headcannons you had for this idea

This is the post I’m referencing btw!

Ignore the terrible crop job lol

Oooooh thats so cool! Sure!! Go for it!!

There's really not much for me to add other than ✨️vibes✨️and like a general direction/idea. But i do have a few so here's what i got so far:

I imagine that Miles was the first one to ask bring up the patched jackets (i don't really know what they're called) thing for like just a conversation starter at first but ended up getting geniunely interested as Hobie rants explains the whole thing. From its history where its originally a practical way of mending clothes but now means more to the punk culture, to how to stitch it in, picking the right jacket for it, etc.

He would explain each patch in his vest, what they represent, and how he got it. (Or Miles would ask abt it idk)

I like to hc hobie as decent enough at sewing to make shody patches with his own design. Its not good good but he's proud of them enough to show it off

Miles couldn't get his mind off Hobie's rant and some of the shoddy patches that looks so rough and like a snap away from leaving Hobie's vest and he can't get his mind off the fact that Hobie made some of his own patches which made him curious enough to make his own designs.

At first it was just drawings and doodles but then he got curious enough to try embriodery stuff. How hard could it be, right? He was wrong. Embroidery is very hard. (This coming from me who does embroidery for fun) But the learning process was fun enough that he continued on.

Rio absolutely caught him more than once, brings out her sewing kit, and gives him tips and advices like different kinds of stitches and how to fix holes on clothes, happy to have something they can bond over. (Would love to have more Rio content. She deserves the world.)

With his newly aqcuired sewing skills, he offers to fix Hobie's patch that was loose.

Then he showed Hobie the very first patch he made which was a very simple sunflower (or something else if you want) and

Hobie was very normal about that and trying to be casual like: "Can I keep it?" And it flusters Miles like "Uh, yeah, sure. I guess. I mean if you want it—"

Hobie then decided that Miles is his new go-to patch repair guy just so he can spend more time with him

Miles uses a really old jacket from either his dad or his uncle Aaron or heck even from his mom or maybe even from his grandparents. (your pick) Because he knows that you just dont do that on a new jacket! That goes against its whole purpose!!

When he shows Hobie the jacket he intends to patch up, Hobie got so exited that he rips off a patch from his vest and gifts it to Miles to "start him with" or something.

They gift each other patches that reminds them of the other

And yeah. That's it. Thats all I've got haha. Link me up on the fic when (? Or after? Srry idk grammar haha) you get to write it. Really very excited to read how you write my current favorite blorbos!! 💕

[kitkat238984]

Goddess Of Your Dreams (soulmate au)

Summary: In an alternate universe where soulmates are determined by unique marks, you do everything you can to hide your matching soul mark from the cold-hearted handsome devil, Hook.

But when a match with "Timeless" Toni Storm causes your secret to be revealed to the whole world, you have many awkward encounters that leave you both mesmerised and breathless.

TW: Mentions of sexual themes, normal wrestling violence.

The crowd roared as The Chairman’s Intent played through the speakers and Hook entered through the tunnel and made his way down the ramp towards his hungry-for-violence opponent, Wheeler Yuta. Excalibur’s voice fed through the TV screens in the homes of thousands. 

“And we see the cold-hearted handsome devil walk down the ramp, so confident and expressionless, a complete contrast to that sunflower soulmark he’s sporting there, wouldn’t you say Taz?” 

The father of the heart-throb in the wrestling world had to stay neutral in his job as a commentator, but never hid how proud he was of his son and his achievements. “Of course. But if there’s one thing I’m sure about is that he will make some lucky girl very happy”. 

“Hook, doing his ritual of circling around the ring. And I think the soul marks make you realise just how human we all are, showing almost the vulnerability in people as stone cold as Hook”. 

The match between Hook and Wheeler wasn’t for any title, only to settle a score when Yuta began cussing out Hook’s arrogance and the friends he “strings along”, and - as he usually does - Hook shoved those words where the sun don’t shine and had him caught in a redrum within minutes. After all, cursing is Danhausen’s thing. 

— 

A couple of weeks later, you were backstage, preparing for your upcoming fight against ‘Timeless’ Toni Storm for the Women’s World Championship. This was quite frankly the biggest match of your life, and against a wrestler who was far more experienced than yourself, even though you had been in AEW for a year now and had made quite the spectacle of yourself with your alluring character. You couldn’t count the number of times male fans of AEW had approached you with their clever but awkward pick-up lines. 

“You’re ready for this” , the voice of your ringside and friend, Kris Statlander, told you whilst patting your shoulder. “You’ve studied every one of her moves and trained for weeks on end. How are you nervous about this?” 

You ignored her question with no real answer to give her. You were ready, more than you had ever been for a match, let alone already being a decent wrestler. 

You continued to watch yourself in the mirror. You really did look like a goddess. And that wasn’t you trying to be conceited because your whole gimmick was that you were Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty and sex and more. You wore waist high blue shorts with decorative white buttons and drawstring with a matching plaid sporting bra which cupped your breasts and made your cleavage visible for all to see. 

You didn’t mind being used as sex appeal to be honest as it made you feel a lot more confident in your self. You’d hardly had any confidence before AEW until one day you decided to be brave, wearing very little sportswear at the gym which happened to be the day you were recognised as a potential for professional wrestling. Coincidence? Who knows, but you didn’t care. Everyone appreciated you as a good sportswoman. You were here and you were proud your dream came true whilst also being one of the best female wrestlers in the company. 

“You know why I’m nervous”, you said, timidly, glancing to the right of the mirror to meet the gaze of Kris. 

“We go through this every time, no one’s going to see it. They never do! That choker is very secure. You might as well be strangling yourself”. 

You hummed, instinctively slipping your hand under the large braid that snaked down the right side of your neck and swept your fingers under the choker, touching where you knew your soul mark to be. 

“I don’t even know why you bother hiding it. It’ll come out eventually. One of your hookups are going to piece it together”. 

You smiled and chuckled lightly at her comment and turned around, tiptoeing to lean closer to her ear. 

You whispered, “Daniel Garcia didn’t say anything when he had his hands wrapped round my throat”. 

With a hearty laugh, you went to leave the room you used as a dressing room hearing her dramatically gasp, saying “Y/N, you’re such a slut!” 

The door was half open with you facing inside. “I may be a slut but I still have morals. My soulmate is more important than any of those floozies”, you laughed again and opened the door fully, but almost crashed into a figure who was walking past and most likely heard the last of your conversation. 

You looked up at the tall man wearing a white hoodie and black sweatpants and immediately cleared your throat and glanced back down when you made quick eye contact when he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow and continued on his way, not stopping once to question what he just heard. 

“Awkward”. You turned your head to glare before nodding your head towards the hallway so you can get ready to go on, not before taking one last look at the cold-hearted Hook who had his hood covering that damned mark that matched yours. 

Why, of all people, him? 

You’d never even spoken to each other and you always thought that your personalities would clash. That is, if you even knew his personality. His cool exterior was only an act after all - or at least most of it. You had no clue where to even start with him. 

Your ‘quick look back’ must have lasted a little longer than you anticipated because you found yourself being pushed through the dimly lit hallway towards the stage. 

Toni Storm was already out there making her extravagant entrance as usual and the nerves suddenly hit you again like a continuous stabbing to the gut. 

Kris must have read you like a book because she began roughly massaging your shoulders and shaking you, waking you out of the depths of your own mind. 

“You got this", she told you. “Rip out the feathers of her boa and you’ll have her crumbling on the spot”. 

“Or that would just make her even more angry?" 

“Just beat her senseless and bring back that belt. Come on, we’re on”. 

You heard the guitar riff you’d heard so many times which was your entrance song, 'Venus' by Shocking Blue - ironically not such a shocking song for your character. 

Holding your best flirty face, you walked through the tunnel and stood centre stage, eyeing the crowd and blowing kisses at certain men on the front row, contributing to your act. You made eye contact with Toni Storm and gracefully travelled down the ramp with Kris tailing behind you, riling up the crowd a bit before walking around ringside. 

Entering the ring you saw she had a mic in her hand and so you thought you’d wait to attack and have a little fun first. 

“Any words before I banish you off the screen?” 

You motioned for the mic and she willingly let you have it. “First off, that belt clashes with your outfit. And secondly… I’m about to knock you into the 1800s, showgirl”. 

You throw the mic to the side and headed straight for the attack which Storm skilfully dodges but you bounce back on the ropes and high kick her in the face which makes her stumble back. 

You go back and forth with the attacks and a few minutes in it’s still difficult to predict a winner as you both fight through the pain, eager to get your hands on that belt. 

You let her swing you around the ring before stranding you in the middle where she kicked your back and you fell forward, face first into the canvas. Blood was most likely pouring from your nose at this point and you felt pretty helpless but, your arms the only thing keeping you up, even when she had your legs bent and leaning on your back you still wouldn’t budge so the referee never started counting. 

Everything from that point felt like slow-motion. Storm yanked up your hair and grabbed a hold of the precious choker that you felt the need to guard with your life. However, you couldn’t stop her as your arms were still in use to hold you up. 

You thought you could hear the voices of Excalibur, Tony, and Taz commenting on this scene when your oxygen privileges were taken away from you for a brief couple of seconds. 

“Dramatic as ever! Toni Storm ripping that choker from Venus, breaks the chain, and still has her-” 

“Wait a minute there, Tony”, Excalibur interrupts. “What’s that? On her neck?” 

“Why, it’s a sunflower!” He was quick to reply. “Oh, my god! Now, for anyone who doesn’t remember, that’s the exact same soul mark as our very own Hook! Taz, how are you feeling about this?” 

A few seconds passed before Taz responded to that question, bewildered by this realisation that millions of people in the fanbase had just come to terms with. “For the first time ever, I-I have no words. I’m utterly speechless”. 

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You were in such shock that the one thing you were trying to hide was revealed that you lost control of your arms and they gave in to both the weight of yourself and Toni - who was still laying over your back - and the recoil of your head after the breakage of your choker. 

You acted fast when the referee began smacking his hand on the canvas and you swung your elbow back into Storm’s side, rolling her onto her front in place of you, pulling her legs back and holding down her upper back with your knees so she couldn’t escape. 

Within three seconds, you heard the ring of the bell indicating your victory and had secured yourself the WWC. You carefully got off your opponent and used your large braid which was still somehow intact to cover the sunflower mark. You knew it was all too late but perhaps you could save yourself at least a little dignity for now. 

You allowed your hand to be raised in the air and for the Women’s World Championship belt to be slung over your shoulder. You decided to not let your revealed secret take away your triumph and you gladly stood on the ropes of the ring and held up the belt for the world to see. Most of the crowd were cheering which you were relieved at. 

Jumping out of the ring you picked up a mic and yelled out, “Checkmate, bitch!” before Kris attacked you with a hug which you happily embraced, knocking the microphone out of your hand. 

With smiles strewn across your faces, you limped up the ramp and gave the camera a wink and blew a kiss before heading through the tunnel. 

You were greeted with “well done”s and “congratulations”’s, and you didn’t fail to notice every one of them look at where your soul mark was. 

“I can’t believe I just did that”, you said to them all, still breathless. 

“We thought you were a goner when she had you pinned like that. Such a turn around”. 

“Saw it in the viewing room. Could’ve gone either way”. 

“Y/N…” a stern voice called to you. You turned to see who it was and came face-to-face with the one and only Tony Khan. 

Ah shit. 

“I hate to cut this celebration short but could I speak with you for a moment?” 

You stared in shock. “Uh yeah of course”. 

He couldn’t fire you, could he? It was just a soul mark. Even though the scenario that he would get rid of you was unlikely, the fear plagued your mind. 

— 

“I first want to say well done for securing the Women’s World Championship. You deserve it after all the effort you’ve put in this year”. 

“Thank you”, is all you managed to say. 

“I’m going to be straight with you. It was very irresponsible to keep something like a soul mark matched with another wrestler away from myself and the team. We would have understood if you wanted to keep that a secret from the public but not us. We could have helped you and prevented a situation like this from happening". 

You sighed, knowing he was completely right and you should have at least told someone about it so you could get help to cover it rather than taking it upon yourself to hide it from everyone. 

“We can’t do much about it now. The public already knows and we’ll just have to go with it”. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, sir?” 

“If what you’re thinking is incorporating it into a story line, then yes”. 

You had such mixed emotions coursing through your veins at this moment. You were relieved that you weren’t in trouble, excited you were part of a new story line, thrilled that you’d just won your match against Toni Storm, and scared as to what your soulmate would say to you after this. 

He continued. “But I have to ask. Did Hook know?” 

You shook your head lightly in shame and looked down at the hands that sat fidgety on your lap. 

“Well I’ll give you time to sort out a few personal things, and I’ll make sure promos are recorded regarding your new on-screen romance first before there’s any action in the ring. Thank you”. 

You nodded in appreciation and left his makeshift office, now bubbling in anticipation at this new opportunity. You practically ran to your dressing room where Kris said she’d meet you and you’d get changed and party until dawn, drinking to celebrate your success and to also forget about the future encounter with Hook, well… Tyler is what you’d found out his name was, but you weren’t ready to be so casual with someone you'd never spoken to before. 

— 

When you were back at work, you expected Hook to approach you straight away, however, the most you got out of him was a mere glance your way or sometimes you’d catch him staring at your back, not that he seemed even the slightest bit embarrassed to turn away. 

You couldn’t possibly start any conversation with him. In fact, when you were told what was happening for one of the promos, introducing your on-screen romance, you never spoke to him about it and had to improvise when the cameras were placed on you both. 

“Danhausen, tell us how you’re feeling about the upcoming trios match?” The interviewer asked him. Danhausen being himself, he had this scary yet amusing pose with clawed fingers in front of him. 

“Very good. I have cursed all three of them so they may die before then”, he said in his freaky accent. 

“And of course you’re teaming with Hook and Orange Cassidy - a pretty strong team formed there if you ask me - how do you think they’re coping with the pressure of this match?” 

“I fear they are frozen”. 

“Uh frozen? What do you mean by that?” 

“Some powerful sorcery has frozen them in time. Look!”. 

The camera first focused on Orange Cassidy who was leaning up against a wall, both arms and legs crossed and slowly chewing on a piece of gum. 

The camera then turned to you and Hook who were told to stand opposite one another, simply staring into the other’s eyes, your soul mark being the one to show the camera. 

Although it was only acting, you still felt butterflies floating around your stomach since this was technically the most you’ve ever interacted with him, your soulmate. No one else’s soulmate. None of his adoring female fans had the same mark as him on their necks. The thought of you being the special one almost brought a smile to your face, but you had to stop yourself when you remembered the cameras. 

You used this time to really appreciate his facial features. How had you not realised how attractive he was sooner? His jawline was well-defined yet looked so soft to touch. And his eyes… so dark but so… intriguing… and… and… what were you saying? 

You’d got so lost in the moment that you hadn’t even realised that the cameras were no longer on your faces. It was only when the clicking of Danhausen’s fingers in between you both that you were brought out of your trance. 

“I fixed them! I didn’t know I could uncurse someone…” 

You saw Orange Cassidy on the other side of the room, peeking over the top of his sunglasses with his suggestive look at you. Hook hadn’t once flinched or maybe even blinked and still continued staring your way. The fear and self-consciousness struck you like it had done a thousand times before and you awkwardly walked past him towards catering where you were to meet Kris and Willow. 

You were smitten alright. Unmistakably. And you did not want to make yourself feel even more flustered than that situation had already made you. 

— 

The plan was simple. "Timeless" Toni Storm and her husband and AEW wrestler, Juice Robinson, would talk shit about you in the ring, daring you to come out with the belt. You’d go out, say something snarky, they’d beat the crap out of you, and Hook comes out to save you. Easy. Simple. 

Except it really wasn’t that simple. Not when Hook was involved. You couldn’t bring yourself to confront him again. Danhausen’s promo was only the beginning and you only just managed to hold yourself together then. 

It took you a few laps around your hotel room that morning to clear your mind of the worries. Once all of this was over and everything made sense in the world, there would be nothing left to worry about and you would actually be able to get on with your life and career in peace. 

You were backstage, ready for your entrance. Hook stood only a couple metres away, eating a bag of chips. If there was one thing you definitely knew about Hook as Tyler, it was that he loved chips. Even when the cameras were nowhere in sight you always saw him with chips to hand. 

“...so what I want to say to Venus is that if you want to disrespect my beautiful wife, then you can come out here and say it to me as well. Come on! What are you afraid of? Everyone knows your dirty little secret now so you might as well show it to the world!” 

You took that as your cue and motioned for the sound and visuals manager to play your into. When it began, you wasted no time strutting out on stage, with no bother sending kisses to the crowd. After all, you were meant to be angry at them. 

You were given a mic at the end of the ramp and when you entered the ring, the power couple before you stood tall and confident, looking down at you who stood alone with your newly won belt you felt the need to protect. 

“Let us not dither with such a minor dispute. I don’t want to waste my time with an extra”, Storm laughed, and you heard a few boos in the crowd. Thank you. “You have stolen what is mine and I want it back. Now”. 

You smirked to the crowd and back at her who had her hand out expectedly. 

“It’s actually my belt now. My belt, my championship, my title. If you want it, you’ll have to come and take it from me. Mr. Loverboy over here don’t scare me”. 

An impulsive thought suddenly came to you whilst saying that. Where were their soul marks? Were they matching? People get into relationships, but normally they wait for their soulmates for marriage. Perhaps you just couldn’t see their marks, you thought, but then inwardly grimaced at where it might be as Robinson wasn’t exactly hiding much of himself with the amount of clothing he was wearing. 

“And where’s yours?” she asked. “Are you done staring at each other or are you still both lost little puppies, looking for their owners?” The teasing began to infuriate you. She must have been told to make the most of how she was the one to shed the light on your soul mark. 

“It’s… none of your business…” you awkwardly stated, glancing off to the side. 

“I’ll tell you what is my business. That championship. Darling?” 

Within seconds, the mic flung out of your hands for goddess knows how many times now and before you knew it, your hands were pinned behind your back and you had fallen to your knees, hair pulled to look up the 1920s star, officially at the mercy of the couple. 

As always, Storm dramatised the entire scenario, acting as if the belt was an Oscar she’d won for a picture show, and suddenly flung it to the side of the ring before striking your face with her forearm several times and you could do nothing but endure it. 

At one point you decided to test the waters and spat at her, who gasped disgustingly and kicked you to the side and you dropped on the floor. 

As if on cue, the arena darkened and Action Bronson played through the speakers, notifying you that Hook had entered the scene, and the butterflies yet again fluttered in your chest. 

Don’t get nervous now with millions of people watching you, Y/N. 

At the sight of Hook striding down the ramp with his cold-hearted yet handsome, sort of devilish expression - oh you got why they called him that now - Robinson and Storm ran past him towards the tunnel, Hook intimidatingly puffing out his chest through his hoodie as they crossed. 

The crowd went absolutely wild when they saw that Hook hadn’t stopped there and fought, but climbed through the ring and stood over your feeble state. As expected and without any exchange of words, he offered you a hand which you looked to the audience for approval before accepting gratefully. 

Ahhh it hurts so much. I didn’t realise the soulmate bond was this powerful. Was he feeling the same as me? How was he so cool about this all? 

You smiled as you both walked up the ramp in style, a couple that were quite frankly unstoppable to AEW. 

You didn’t bother lingering backstage, hoping that maybe Hook would finally approach you since you still couldn’t gather the courage to do it yourself. It was rather hypocritical of you seeing as you had an entire year to say something, but you just wanted to know if he was interested in you or not before making a fool out of yourself. 

A small gasp escaped your lips when a strong hand gripped your arm and spun you around where you faced the devil himself. He stared at you like he had all those other times, although you noticed the subtle desperation in his expression as his nose twitched and eyebrows furrowed, adjusting his jaw. 

His eyes shifted and you followed his gaze to where your mark was and self-consciously reached up to touch it but his hand gently took hold of your wrist, stopping you, and his head leaned closer toward your neck. 

Was this a chapter out of Fifty Shades of Grey or something? 

You couldn’t tell if your heart had stopped or if it was beating so furiously that it would burst out of your chest. A shiver sent down your spine and a shaky breath left your lips when you felt his own brush over the mark you shared, giving you the perfect angle to see his own soul mark. 

It really was a replica of the one you had which was a given. 

His head lifted out of your neck and he met your eyes again, this time exhibiting a sly smirk telling you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

How devious… but you couldn’t deny that you were loving every second of it. 

“Why were you ignoring me?” you finally managed to ask after weeks since your mark was first shown in the ring. His obvious attraction and reveal of his need for you as well fuelled confidence within you, and you were glad that this encounter had turned out the way it had. 

“Why did you hide this from me?” He placed a hand on the side of your neck which now filled you with warmth and comfort. 

You kept quiet and bit your bottom lip as you didn’t really have a good explanation for why you did what you did. 

He chuckled lightly and quickly looked over your body, licking his lips - a small detail that only someone as close to him as you were in that moment would have noticed. 

“Well now I know we’re soulbound, it’d be rude not to ask the lady for a drink after the show. So how about it?” 

A large, mischievous grin swept across your face. “I’d love to. But you should know that I don’t commit on the first date. Not to anyone”. 

“Not even to your soulmate? Aren’t you meant to be the goddess of love?” 

“Are you saying you’re already in love with me?” 

You had both found yourselves gradually getting closer and closer. You didn’t even realise when your chests had come into contact, breath tickling each other’s faces. 

“Can’t argue with the soulmate bond”. 

Almost in desperation, your lips crashed into Hook’s who’s hands travelled to your waist to somehow pull you even closer than you already were, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers sliding through the hair at the top of the nape of his neck. 

“...I thought these videos were meant to be about me…” a voice broke you out of your kiss and you felt Hook huff and pout like he usually does, making you giggle at his childishness. 

You turned and saw Danhausen standing, watching you both in confusion with the camera crew situated behind him, pointing towards you. 

This was undoubtedly going to be aired in a promo but you couldn’t care less in that special moment of yours. The crew left once they realised that you both weren’t going to budge from where you were. You’d just been thrown in the arms of your soulmate after a year of knowing the truth and over a month of incredible attraction. 

Your attention was very quickly back on the man securely holding you in place, and you decided to tease him a little if that was the game you were going to be playing. “I’m not just the goddess of love. I’m the goddess of beauty… desire… sex…” 

Knowing exactly where you were going with this, his smirk returned, bigger than before. “Well let’s see. Beauty? Check. Desire?” He told a hold of your hand before guiding it towards the bulge that stuck out of his sweatpants. You squeezed his length gently, earning a soft groan before pulling your hand away again. “Check. Sex? Well I guess I’ll be the judge of that”. 

His hands slid down, cupping your ass and lifting you up with ease as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt yourself being carried through the halls backstage and you used this time to entangle your hands back through his hair which caused him to squeeze where his hands were placed on your backside. 

You lightly nibbled on his neck where the mark was and breathed in all of him. 

Ugh. Did he always smell this fucking good? 

You didn’t care if the people you passed were judging you or not; you only cared that all this tension was finally about to be released. 

“You’ll be turning full heel after the night is over, baby. I’m about the fuck all that gracefulness out of you”. 

You giggled and leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You just try me”. 

THE END. 

[kitnootkat]

(Sorta) Summer dates ! ... Sunflowers; happiness, cheer hope

bsd masterlist ... TAGLIST HERE

CHARACTERS : Dazai Osamu, Yosano Akiko, Edogawa Ranpo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Dazai Osamu : Beach Date Dazai would be the type to take you on a fun beach date because what's the summer for if not to enjoy the heat by the beach. Of course you both will relax in the sand, play in the water, and get some must needed ice cream, but something you'll also do is explore. Somehow Dazai would coax you into going into the nearby forest to try and find a hidden scenic view of the ocean. Once you both find it, hand in each other, you're amazed by the view but the brunette is amazed by you. "Woah... Dazai this sight is amazing!!" At first you were very reluctant to go with Dazai since wandering in the woods isn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but damn were you so happy he convinced you to do so. The sight of the ocean from atop the rocky cliff was beautiful, it left you speechless.

Turning your head to the side to look at your boyfriend, the look on his face leaves you flushed. He was staring at you so lovingly that if you continued to face him he'd see you as red as a tomato. Oh how much he would tease you. The moment after you turn back to the water, you head a small laugh beside you which causes you to start pouting.

"The view really is amazing isn't it? While his words could have meant the view in front of you, you both knew what it meant: you were the amazing view. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Yosano Akiko : Shopping Date

No matter what anyone says, both you and Yosano can agree that shopping dates are some of the best type of dates. Your girlfriend loves to drag you around to try new clothing styles and seasonal releases. She was absolutely enamored with how you could look oddly good in everything you wore! Of course you can try and say that's only her opinion but she refuses otherwise. You'll stop by at least twelve different stores trying out at minimum three outfits each per-store and neither of you mind it even making a game out of who can make the other look better.

This was the third store that you've been too today and you're determined to win this round of the game. Last store Yosano won and you could not let it happen again! The score is 0-2 already not in your favor so you're going to pull out all the stops and include jewelry in it too. It's not breaking a rule, its a loop hole because she didn't address it!

As you give her the basket, there's a big smile on your face and the thought of "I'll definitely win this!" was repeating itself in your head. When you take the basket of clothes she wanted you to wear, you don't think much of it. But why does the stuff in the basket look familiar? "Ahhh! We're matching!" When both of you walk out of the changing stall it seems you both are wearing almost identical outfits. While you are a bit huffed at this, Yosano is laughing. "It's- oh- this is- really funny oh my goodness. We definitely have to buy these outfits!" Despite trying to keep a pout on your face you cant help but burst into returning giggles. Even if this was most likely a tied round, you think that you've won in another way: another pair of matching outfits and hearing Yosano's joyous laugh.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Edogawa Ranpo : Candy Shop

Dates with Ranpo has turned into a routine if anything, but who says routine dates can’t exist. Every Sunday you both walk to the candy shop by the armed detective agency. As odd as it sounds Ranpo was actually the one who recommended the idea of walking after Kunikida said no to driving you both. Well not so much recommended but dramatically sighed and said quote “Since there’s nothing we can do… I GUESS we can walk. I guess.” While surprised you did agree so every Sunday your dates have been walk with Ranpo to the candy shop down the street then shop for a bit. Unfortunately for you though, for some reason they were out of the chocolates you wanted.  

“Damn it! They’re out of the chocolates I normally get.” Hershey kisses are something many people say that they’re very boring or like Tanizaki says “mid” chocolates but sometimes simple is just best! As you look over the chocolate aisle you mentally pray in your head that you simply just missed the sight of it rather than them actually being sold out. 

“Stop trying to get your hopes up, they're fully out.” Crossing your arms and huffing you turn towards where Ranpo is. The little shit you’re dating is sitting in the shopping cart sucking happily on a lollipop with a smug smile on his face. As you pout at him you grumble out that he could at least help you try and find it. 

“You’re so rude, I was just being honest. Here, have something sweeter.” Raising an eyebrow, you feel your arm get tugged towards Ranpo, body following. Before you can say anything you feel his lips on yours. It’s only a moment before he pulls away but as your face flushes his has a smirk. “See, problem solved.” 

“No it’s not, you would kill me if I did the same thing to you.” “Absolutely because nothing is sweeter than the candy I like”

“Why do I date you” “Because you love me!”

[fl3shm4id3n]

Hiiii

Can we get a so'lek x human? No smut, just bit of fluff?

ᵢₙ ₐ ₘᵢₗₗᵢₒₙ Yₑₐᵣₛ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱᴏ'ʟᴇᴋ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: mentions of humans being assholes, alien x human relationship, kisses, mainly fluff.

Masterlist

So'lek has hated humans with a passion ever since they've step foot in Pandora. They did many horrible things, from destroying the forest to even causing clans to disappear completely. He hated them, he wished that they all would die or just leave Pandora completely. But, he knew that not all humans were the same. Specially the ones who have decided to help him and the na'vi get rid of the RDA. He may not right out say it, but he appreciates it deeply in a way. One thing that he didn't expect was to fall in love. How could anyone fall in love in a time like this? Everyday animals and other people die. It is a risky thing to do since the na'vi and humans are still at war. But even with that reasoning, he still ended up falling for someone. That someone was you.

You were a scientist, who had an avatar body of her own just like Alma. The thing that caught So'lek's attention was how you were willing to learn the ways of the na'vi. You didn't have to, but you did anyways. Half of the time, you'd be in your avatar body, specially while with him. At first he somewhat preferred it that way, but he also wished to see you in as you are. A human. He may not admit it, but he likes seen you in your actual human form more. He doesn't really understand how or why, he just prefers it that way. But he also understands why you decide to be in your avatar more. So it could be easier for you to learn his ways and also so that you could be able to move around comfortably around the forest.

After a while, of the both of you not getting the hints, you and So'lek began a relationship. You and So'lek wanted to keep your relationship on the down low. It's because he doesn't really like bringing attention to himself or you. Besides, what goes on in his private life, is not of anyone's concern. He doesn't mind being affectionate around others, but he saves the other stuff when you and him are alone. When it's just you and him, he is very affectionate. As if, he's a totally different person around you. Normally he doesn't act this way around others, but when it comes to you, he does. This was a form of trust between the both of you.

That day, you had decided to let your avatar body rest along with your human body. You've been using it so much that you somewhat had bunt yourself out a bit, you needed a break. At the moment, you were in your small sleeping area, while everyone else was doing there thing. You were simply laying in your hammock, with your eyes closed. As a way to relax your mind a bit, along with your back. It was sore from laying in the link pod for many hours of the day. You then felt something or someone over shadow above you. Making you open your eyes to see who it was.

It was none other than So'lek. He was also holding a flower. It was pretty big for your human hands to hold, but you loved the gesture. "Hello yawne, I've brought you this." He said, with a small smile. You sat up from your hammock and took the huge flower. It was almost similar to a sunflower, except it was even bigger and more different. "It's pretty, thank you." You said with a smile, then you watched as he leaned in and kissed you right on the cheek. His lips took up all of your cheek, making you slightly giggle. "So'lek, we'll be seen." You simply said, as he continued to kiss your cheek. He stopped, as if he was thinking about something, then went right back to kissing your cheek. "Let them, I do not wish to keep our relationship hidden anymore." He simply said.

That surprised you a bit, So'lek, no longer minded being seen? What changed? You didn't mind though. You then felt how So'lek moved down and kissed you right on the jawline, under your ear. Making you giggle a bit more. "So'lek! That tickles!" You giggled even more. But that didn't stop him, he just kept on kissing you in that spot making you laugh even more. "I didn't think you'd be ticklish there." He teased, as he jokingly bit the tip of your ear, causing you to laugh even louder. Making your laugh slightly echo around the area.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

i saw too many videos on making battery acid so i request…

silly headcanons on how the boys would react to their listeners making battery acid! :p

[the closest i did was eat sour gummy’s while drinking an energy drink]

Making battery acid!

So at first thought you meant actual battery acid and not the mixture of gummy worms and energy drinks for some reason???

Alphonse

Boo what are you doing?? He's so confused on why you wanted to make it. If you tell him you wanted to see if you could he just shakes his head. Then I feel like he kinda would wanna see if it works-

Seth

Sugar?? I don't think you should do that?? Seth is wondering why you feel the need to do this. He really doesn't want you to try to drink or eat it.

Charlie

Casper pretty sure this will get you in trouble??? Confused how you were able to make it from a few things you had laying around. He's the one reading instructions so you don't add something your not suppose too.

Finn

Sunflower! Oh my goddess what are you doing!?! Is worried you'll get hurt, then listens to why you wanna do it. He's trying not to sigh deeply while watching you do this. How did you even manage to get the ingredients for this???

Faust

Star, what the fuck- walked in om you asking if you saw his sour gummy's is peeved you used his. Now he's watching you mix the ingredients while watching the yt vid. Might record a bit to post on his story, just a normal Thursday night really.

Auron

Dear....just....why? He's so confused seeing what your doing. Like why choose to do this when you could do anything else with these things? Sighs as he watches over you to make sure you don't hurt yourself.

Lucien

Fuck yeah! Let's do this! At first didn't know this could go wrong very quickly and can hurt you if you had actual ingredients to make it. But since he's a demon he wonders if he could drink the concoction you made. Didn't taste very well tbh.

Jack

This is so stupid I'm in. Watches the yt video but got distracted with the shirts while you mixed the ingredients together. Then watches as you make it inti something to drink, looks at it and takes a sip. Almost throws up bc he has a weak stomach to these things.

[dog-thing-augustus]

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

welcome from my dog bed, you can call me August (it/he/canine, it/its preferred)

am a trans adult physical and psychological alterhuman

identities!

physical- coyote (including coydogs and coywolves)

psychological- swift fox/red fox and crow

otherkin- shadow person cryptid

otherlink- dog in general, i mostly relate to scruffy lookin dogs tho

otherhearted- wolf

plantkin- sunflower

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

this blog is mostly for my alterhuman identitys but i do have an instergram where i post more of my own art and general other stuff i dont post here! @ dog.thing.augustus for anyone intrested

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

important info

a very normal DNI if your hateful or gross door is to the left to fuck offvill

i will block freely, and as i see fit, if you dont like my acount id advise you to block me first instead of getting in your rude word in as i will just ignore you

dont DM me if i dont know you, especially if you're under 18 please

if i post anything that the creator doesn't want posting or if i follow someone bad and stuff of the like, please let me know. i mean no ill will

[much-ado-about-whomst]

I saw a post abput drunk Ness and I couldn't resist. So @blue-sunflower-bee this one's for you.

Drunk Ness fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ness will swear up in down till the day he dies that he's not a light weight. He can hold his alcohol, thank you very much.

The thing is that's a complete lie. Mike's seen him get tipsy on a Mike's Hard Lemonade. A shot of anything gets him drunker than a skunk. It's not a big deal since he doesn't drink much anyways.

Which is why Mike was suprised to see his boyfriend stumble into their house late one night after going out with some coworkers. Ness comes in giggling at nothing, and wobbling so severely that Mike gets up off the couch to help lead the taller man safely to it.

"Hello Sugar!" Ness's voice is louder than normal.

"Hey Darlin', easy now." Mike cautions as Ness trips over his own foot. "I thought you, Chris, and Jason were going bowling."

"We did!" Crise Ness as he finally made it to the safty of the couch.

"Then why are you drunk?" Mike sat down next to his silly boyfriend.

"'m not drunk." Ness pouts as he snuggles up into the warmth of Mike. "Its Chris's brithday. We had some shots in between rounds of bowling." Mike snorts and shakes his head. Ness is mesmerized by the movement of his hair. He sits up as gracefully as a newborn giraffe and starts to play with Mike's hair.

"Mike. Mike. Mike. Do you want to hear a fun fact I learned at work today?" Mike tries and fails to surpress the smile that makes its way up to his face and camps there.

"What did you learn darlin'?" Ness does a little happy wiggle, excited that someone is willing to listen to his ramblings.

"I learned from Amy that you can cook food in the dryer! She told me that her cousin's best friend did it with stake and it totally worked! Isnt that so cool? Maybe we should try that." Ness babbles as he takes his hands through Mike's hair. He starts trying to braid it, bit its too small to really amount to anything. So he gives up and runs his figners through the hair, enjoying the texture, before trying to braid it again.

"Sorry Darlin', but we are not cooking food in the dryer. No matter what Amy's cousin's best friend says." Mike's hands hold on to Ness's hips to keep him from toppeling off the couch

"But Sugar, think of the learning opportunities for Abby." Ness's puppy dog eyes were at full force and aimed right at Mike's heart. Mike steals himself before continuing.

"You can't use that as an excuse every time you want to do something."

Ness yawns real big and then replies,"I can try."

Mike makes sure Ness is sexure before standing up.

"Lets get you to bed Darlin'." He says in a hushed tone as he picks up Ness in a bridal carry and starts making his way to their room.

[swanmaids]

The girl on the bedroll is small, and silent as she sleeps, and her life has just been torn apart down the middle. Or, more accurately, it has been torn once more, having never been quite whole since the Trees died. Glorfindel looks down at her tiny sleeping form, bundled in so many furs, and winces. 

“Will you take her?” Aredhel, currently stationed to watch over the child, asks him, “I’m not really any good with children. And I want to go to my brother.”

A selfish part of Glorfindel wants to blurt out that he is no good with children either. In Aman, he was the youngest of his family, the longed-for boy after four sisters, and doted upon. He had been, in a sense, an eternal child - when he had followed Ecthelion onto the Ice, he had not known anything about anything. But the Ice is a severe and unforgiving teacher. Now, he can butcher a seal, strip a corpse for anything worth the taking, and rally his friends to press on through the snow. Surely he can learn to care for a sleeping seven year old girl. 

“I’ll take her,” he says, and Aredhel ducks out of the tent almost instantly, towards the anguished wails of her brother across the camp.

He can hardly blame her for it. Glorfindel did not see Turgon’s wife and daughter fall, but he has seen others lose spouses and beloveds to the snarling jaws of the Ice, and it is always a horror. Sometimes, the partner left behind will simply stop walking and refuse to start again. He suspects Idril is being kept away from her father while her aunts and uncles struggle to persuade him against doing the same himself. 

It is unsettling, to see one normally so strong and powerful reduced like this. Turgon faces down all manner of sea-beasts, jumps in to mediate when tempers flare hot among the host, wears the grim stance of a leader as easily as a cloak. He does not falter, he does not break. But now he does. 

Moments later, Idril’s snowdrift-pale eyes snap open. 

Glorfindel flounders. He should not have let Aredhel leave - he does not know what to say to this tiny child.

But Idril, upon waking, simply pushes herself up onto her elbows, and clutches something to her chest, muttering to it. Perhaps it is a gift granted to children, Glorfindel thinks, the brief forgetting of life’s all-too-real horrors. In any case, he has no intention of reminding her. 

It takes a few minutes for Idril to even notice him. When she does, she holds out the bundle she has been mumbling to. 

“Did you want to play with my doll?”

The thing in her hands can just about be called a doll. It is a cloth poppet made up of spare bits of rag too small for any other purpose, stitched together to resemble a figure with limbs and a head. Turgon and Elenwe have - had - many skills, but sewing was apparently not one of them. The doll is leaking stuffing where it is starting to come apart at the seams. 

Through the mending of clothes and of tents as is necessary on the Ice, Glorfindel has learned that he has some skill with a needle. Perhaps there is one small thing that he can do for this girl, after all. 

“She’s a very pretty doll,” he says, “but she looks as though she’s hurting a bit. Would you allow me to try and heal her? You can watch me the whole time.”

Idril looks a little dubious, but she presses the doll into his hands with all the grace of a queen bestowing a gift upon a loyal vassal. She will make a fine lady someday, he thinks, and soon. Childhood ends swiftly on the Ice. Hers is in its dying throes. He only seeks to make them a little more comfortable. 

Glorfindel digs out Aredhel’s little sewing kit and takes the doll apart as carefully as somebody mending a broken bone, Idril’s gaze on him all the time. He unpicks stitching, redistributes stuffing, closes up tears. When he’s finished, he’s rewarded with a little smile. 

Well, nearly finished. Because - 

“She’s bald,” he realises, causing Idril to giggle shyly, “we ought to give her some hair.”

He takes a small knife from his belt and cuts a lock of his own sunflower-bright hair. He makes tiny, delicate stitches, until the doll has a full head of glossy, golden hair. The same colour as his, the same colour as Idril’s, the same colour as her mother’s - 

But before he can curse himself for his mistake, Idril is holding the doll tight to her chest. “Thank you,” she mumbles into the cloth, tears dampening the fabric.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Sunflower Summer| Pt2

Felix x Plus Size Fem! Reader

He's home for the summer; but what does three months together mean for you and your best friend?

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

December

Christmas Day had always been your favorite holiday. As a kid it was due to the presents, but the more you grew the more you cherished the holiday for more than the superficial gifts recieved.

You enjoyed spending time with your family and friends.

You woke up rather early and headed to the kitchen to start making the Christmas breakfast you had been preparing since a young girl for your family. About 10 minutes into you gathering your supplies your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Before you could even look at the notification you heard the soft rapping of knuckles on your kitchen window. You looked up to see Felix haloed by the early morning light.

The pinks and golds made him look even more heavenly than ever before. And part of it pained you that this was only making you fall harder.

Without much thought you went to go open the door.

Felix stepped in with a smile on his face, sleep very much still set in the soft contours of his face.

"Good morning Y/N." He whispered as he stood in front of you, his breath minty and cool.

"Good morning, Lix." You replied, your eyes trailing down his figure clad in pajamas.

Pajamas.

You looked down at yourself rather quickly and realized you were also still clad in your pajamas. Ones that didn't cover as much as your normal clothes due to your parents' tendency of never running the AC when actually needed.

You had a dysmorphic way of looking at yourself, and instantly felt rather disgusted with yourself. A part of you wondered if Felix thought the same.

You looked up but he was dozing off while standing, his head bowing down slightly as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

You forgot about your state of dress for a moment and reached your hand out to lift Felix's head up.

He open his eyes a little and you could feel his cheek squish up as he smiled and leaned into your hand.

His brown eyes seemed to gaze at you softly, and you let your mind wander to the "what-ifs".

What if he looked at you like this all the time.

What if he saw you the way you saw him.

What if you could wake up to him every morning, after falling asleep to him every night.

It caused an ache in your chest. A want that you wanted to fill but knew you wouldn't be able to against all odds.

"Can I help you with breakfast?" He murmured, very much sleepy.

His morning voice did something in the pit of your stomach and all you could do was nod as he made his way to your kitchen sink, not even waiting for you to give a proper answer.

You guys washed your hands, with Felix flicking you with water causing a rather loud squeal to escape your lips.

Felix's eyes widened and as did his mouth as his smile broke out at the way your face scrunched up, little dimples and pits and the subtle rosiness in your cheeks.

She's pretty...

You pulled out your airpods and handed Felix one. Whenever you guys did anything in the kitchen together, you always blasted music, but due to it being early in the morning, you didn't want to bother anyone.

It was funny, because when you were kids, waking up your parents at the ass crack of dawn was tradition. Now they could finally realx.

You two fell into a rhythm, moving in a fluidity that rivaled that of Felix's sychronization with his members.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he was aware of the movement, aware of the way you two fit. It just didn't come to the front of his mind in a way that could have him realize what his feelings were- and how they were more than that of the platonic nature.

The early morning light filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The holiday decorations added a festive touch, making the house feel cozy and inviting. Or maybe it was just Felix.

As you stood at the counter, chopping vegetables for an omelet, Felix moved around the kitchen with a natural ease, preparing the rest of the ingredients. You glanced at your reflection in the window, your thoughts briefly drifting to the extra pounds you wished you could shed. The holiday season always made you more aware of your body, with its endless gatherings and opportunities for comparison.

���You know, you’re a surprisingly good cook,” you said, glancing at Felix with a smile, as he somewhat masterfully flipped a pancake, turning his attention to other prep items.

Felix laughed, cracking an egg into a bowl. “Surprisingly? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shook your head, amused. “It is a compliment. You’ve definitely improved since the last time we cooked together.”

“Hey, I was a kid back then. I’ve had a lot of practice since,” he replied with a grin.

You laughed. "Felix, I think you forget that there are a lot of videos of your cooking endeavors circulating the internet."

You watched as his face turned pink in embarrassment. You laughed as you went to go grab something from the fridge, but paused since you knew you couldn't fit your way through the space between the counter and Felix, silently cursing whoever built the extremely weird, shaped kitchen. And wishing that when your dad proposed remodeling the kitchen you and your mom had agreed.

"Hey, Lix could you grab the milk from the fridge please?"

Felix did so with a smile, and you nodded at him in thanks.

But after that you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as you moved around the kitchen. Every time you reached for a utensil or leaned over to grab an ingredient; you were acutely aware of the space you took up. Felix, however, seemed completely unfazed, moving around you effortlessly, as if the proximity was the most natural thing in the world to him.

“Could you pass me the cheese?” you asked, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Sure thing,” Felix said, handing it to you with a smile. “You know, you really shouldn’t worry so much. You’re doing great.” He said, mistaking the pucker between your eyebrows as anxiety pertaining to the perfection of the meal you were making.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Worry about what?”

“Cooking,” he said. “You’re always so precise. It’s like you’re afraid to make a mistake." But you always do great."

You laughed nervously, playing along with his assumption. "I guess I just want everything to be perfect." You lied.

Felix’s eyes softened. “It already is.”

The simplicity of his words made your heart flutter. You tried to focus on the omelet, but your mind kept wandering to Felix’s easy acceptance of you, just as you were.

Even if you knew he mistook your anxiety for another reason, it still felt nice to know that Felix was wanting to ease your worries in any way that he could.

It made you wonder what his reaction would be if you were honest about your true feelings.

The smell of breakfast soon wafted through the house, drawing your family to the kitchen. Your mom walked in first, her face lighting up when she saw the spread.

“This looks amazing!” she exclaimed. “You two did all this?”

Felix beamed with pride. “We did. Hope you’re hungry.”

Your dad followed, giving Felix a hearty pat on the back. “Good to see you, Felix. You haven’t lost your touch.”

“Thanks, Mr. L/N. It’s good to be back,” Felix replied warmly.

Soon enough the rest of Felix's family made their way over to his your house and you all sat down to enjoy a Christmas breakfast together.

Your parents talked with each other and Felix's eldest sister. From what you gauged it was about the Christmas paegant that would be going on that night at the local church that Felix's family helped arrange every year.

Felix's younger sister was still half asleep.

As conversations continued to ebb and flow and change, you noticed Felix sneaking glances at you. Whenever you caught his eye, he’d flash you a quick, shy smile before focusing back on his plate. The familiarity and comfort between you both were palpable, yet there was an underlying tension that neither of you could fully acknowledge.

"Y/N, sweetie, could you pass me the veggies?" Your mom asked, wiggling her hands towards the plate in front of you. You handed them down the table to her.

"Barely any eaten so far!" Your mom said, "Would anyone else like some?" You watched as the plate was passed around and you felt an uneasiness plant itself in your stomach. You took a breath a placed your fork down, feeling some type of way about the comment your mom had made even though it wasn't at all directed towards you.

After breakfast, Felix offered to help with the dishes while the rest of your guys families sorted all the presents into different piles to be opened. You joined him at the sink, the two of you working in sync to clean up. At first you both were quiet, Felix noticing you had something on your mind.

“Remember the last time we did dishes together?” Felix asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh no, don’t remind me,” you groaned, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “We ended up soaking wet.”

Felix chuckled. “Yeah, your mom was so mad at us. But it was worth it.”

“Definitely worth it,” you agreed, smiling at the memory.

Then your eyes widening as you knew where Felix was going with this.

"Felix Yongbok Lee I swe-" You couldn't finish your sentence as Felix took the retractable sink head and sprayed you.

You laughed and then dipped an already dried bowl into the clean rinsing water, scooping it onto him, the water going into his mouth mid laugh.

He sprayed you again, so you retaliated with the dish soap.

He spit out some of it.

"Green apple soap is not tasty." He sputtered as you guys both laughed.

Your mom had come in to see what all the commotion was and saw both of you dripping wet.

"You guys are too grown for this." She said rolling her eyes. "Go change both of you." She said shooing you guys away. "Felix, I think Y/N's brother might still have some of his clothes here from last time he came home from being stationed. Go change into those. I doubt he fits into them anymore anyways."

As you guys made your way up the stairs chuckling you heard your mom's continued grumbling joined in by Felix's mom.

You made your way into your brothers room and threw Felix a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

"Here you go. Feel free to shower as well, you have dish soap in your hair..."

You made your way into your room to change, and shower as well.

As you dried off you looked for a change of clothes. You needed to do laundry, everything cute you owned was dirty.

You tsked as you threw on underwear and a bra, opting to put on black leggings, sifting through your closet for a shirt to wear when your door swung open. "Y/N-ie do you ha-"

You looked at Felix with wide eyes. His face wide with shock as well.

It felt like eons of him looking at you when it was in reality a few seconds before he turned around, the tips of his ears red.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbled bringing his hands up to cover his face. You quickly threw on the closest shirt to you.

You opened your mouth to respond but quickly lost your train of thought as you watched the way his back muscles flexed as you hadn't noticed before but he was also shirtless.

"It-It's fine. It was an accident." You mumbled, trying to erase the thought out of your head.

"Are you decent?" Felix asked and you gave a hum of acknowledgement and he turned around.

"I was asking if you had scissors. This tag is irritating me." He held out your older brother's hoodie, unable to look you in the eyes.

You felt a pang of something in your chest.

Am I that ugly? That gross?

"Yeah here." You said handing him the scissors. He quickly cut off the tag and pulled the article of clothing over himself.

"Sorry for barging in I feel horrible."

You shake your head. "It's fine I shouldn't have been walking around shirtless." You commented as you threw the scissors back in your art bin.

"It's your room though. Its a private space so shouldn't you be free to do whatever you want in here?"

"Yeah but even so. My room doesn't have a lock and I doubt anyone wants to see me walking around shirtless." You slipped on a pair of socks and gave Felix a tight lipped smile. "Should we head downsatairs? I'm sure everyone wants to go open up presents."

“Sure,” he responded quietly.

In the back of his mind your words were replaying in his head.

"I doubt anyone would want to see me walking around shirtless."

For some reason your words bothered him. But he couldn't pinpoint what about them made him so bothered.

The image of you standing there in you bra and leggings made his face warm up.

Throughout his childhood he had seen you in varying states of undress- not in any way shape or form weird it was just you had been children growing up together.

But seeing you now...

Something was different. It was like a primal instinct was awakened within him.

And he was ashamed to admit it to himself, but he had wanted to stare.

Felix...that's distasteful. You don't stare at females like that. Thats dehumanizing they're not objects. He chanted to himself.

But the reality was that he had already burned that image of you into his mind. And he felt guilty- not because he found you strikingly beautiful.

But because you were one of his best friends.

And best friends couldn't find each other beautiful in a "i-might-be-wrong-but-i-really-think-i-want-to-kiss-her sense"...

Could they?

The rest of Christmas Day was spent lazily enjoying each other’s company. After opening presents with your family, Felix suggested going through more old photos. You couldn’t resist the nostalgic pull and brought out another box of albums. Or resist the allure it brought when it took your mind off of what had happened earlier. The two of you settled on the living room floor, flipping through the pages while the rest of your families mingled.

“Look at this one,” Felix said, pointing to a picture of the two of you at a school dance, dressed in awkward formal wear.

“Oh my gosh, I remember that night,” you said, laughing. “We thought we were so cool.”

Felix grinned. “We were cool. Just… in our own way.”

You snorted. "Imagine if I leaked this to Dispatch? What would your precious stays think about their nerdy sunshine."

Felix pretended to be in thought for a moment. "I think they would want to be able to have even a fraction of the coolness that I have."

You shook your head, smiling. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

As you continued to flip through the photos, Felix’s arm brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He seemed completely at ease, oblivious to the effect he was having on you.

And you completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.

He could still smell the traces of the shampoo you used. And could feel the softness of your body pressed against him, nearly branding him in every area that your bodies connected.

“Hey, look at this,” he said, holding up a photo of the two of you at a carnival, cotton candy in hand and huge smiles on your faces.

“That was such a fun day,” you said softly. “We should go back there sometime.”

“Definitely,” Felix agreed. “Maybe we can recreate this photo.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’d like that.”

Your families eventually moved to the couches to start a movie marathon. As the day came to a close, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for Felix's presence in your life.

Most everyone had fallen asleep at this point. The windows were open and the warm breeze was a soft lullaby to the full bellies and tired eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Felix said softly. You two were sitting up on the couch, still watching whatever movie was playing.

Your mind was foggy as you tried to escape sleep, but were succumbing to it by the second,

“Merry Christmas, Felix,” you replied, your heart full, as you laid your head on his shoulder.

You soon fell asleep, and Felix laid his head atop yours, drifting off as well.

And somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Felix was aware of the movement, aware of the way you two fit. Just like he had been in the morning. Only this time it came to the front of his mind in a way that made him realize what his feelings were—and how they were blaringly more than that of the platonic nature.

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

Pt1

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @kayleefriedchicken

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @velvetmoonlght @thicccurls