#Old picture but he is insanely attractive on this one.

[miss0atae]

Job Krisz -- 13.09.20 (Picture from his IG)

[the-boy-meets-evil]

34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | teaser | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI (for the full fic) word count: ~1k for the teaser (full fic here) warnings (for the full fic, teaser has none): art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, very brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, ambiguous ending, smut warnings on the full fic

a/n: this fic is for the amazing world tour collab for @svthub. i'm excited that i got to be part of it! the full fic will be posted on june 28th. if you'd like to be tagged, leave a comment, send an ask, or fill out my permanent tag form here

taglist: @aaniag, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged. 

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs. 

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look. 

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh. 

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.” 

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.” 

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures. 

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window. 

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. 

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card. 

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles. 

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.” 

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel. 

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease. 

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “It wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.” 

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture. 

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.” 

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

i hope you enjoyed this little snippet!

[bajicantspell]

Strangers

Summary : part two to Kodzuken in my DMs (press), although i wrote it in a way that reading part one isn’t necessary. The only context you need is that x reader is a small instagram influencer. This chapter is about them hanging out together, doing stuff and Kenma pondering how to make you his girlfriend :)

→ Warnings: smut,cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Kenma loved every conversation with you and couldn't get enough. Each text left him wanting you more ; you were just so… interesting. He was completely amused and infatuated with you. 

The fact that he also thought you were a total smoke show was a bonus as well. It was like having the best of both worlds – someone who was not only interesting to talk to but also insanely attractive.

He daydreamed about you a lot, whether he was grocery shopping and saw the drink you told him you like, or glancing at his screen every few minutes hoping you’d reply. He also thought about you, at other times. With one last whimper he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, reaching for the tissues.

He couldn’t help himself; everything you said, every picture you sent, every time you spoke during a call, made him feel a certain way. Your words, your voice, and your beauty all had a profound effect on him, stirring emotions he couldn't ignore. Each interaction left him more captivated, more infatuated with you, and he found himself constantly thinking about you during his alone time late at night. 

Kenma kept breathing heavily due to his exhaustion from his high, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Fuck, wish you were here.” He whispered to no one, hoping it could reach you. 

He just felt so, so fucking lucky. Not only were you everything he asked for, your university was also ridiculously close to his place, so you didnt live far either. It was as if everything was perfectly set up for you to get together. 

He’s a logical man, he wouldn’t be hopeful if the probabilities of you being together were low, but each day he was growing  more and more impatient.

He didn't know if he was doing the flirting thing right, but he assumed he must be doing something right since you agreed to go out with him a couple of times over the few weeks of knowing each other.

Over text you could talk together so much, no conversation was boring with you. But he spend the entire evening of your first date just staring at you in awe. You honestly looked better up close than in your pictures, he didnt know that was possible. He could tell you were a little nervous since you talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Your constant chatter was endearing, revealing your anxiousness in a way that made him sheepishly smile. It was clear you were trying to fill the silence, and he found your efforts adorable. 

Thankfully, when you talk you’re not that in touch with your surroundings, so maybe he got away with staring. 

Lying down in his bed, he smiled a little at the memory. He drifted off to sleep, knowing he’d get to see you again tomorrow. The thought brought him a sense of calm as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Kenma has always been observant of people, a skill that served him well during his high school volleyball days. Old habits die hard, and his keen observation hasn’t faded. But now, it’s working against him as he watches you wrap your lips around the coke bottle, his eyes fixated. It makes him wish he were that bottle.

You noticed his eyes lingering.

"Ken', are you okay?" you asked.

"Hm? What?" he replied, caught off guard. 

He invited you to his house for a date night, away from the crowds. The past few times you went out together, you were stared at due to his presence, and he noticed it made you a little uncomfortable. He knew exactly how that felt. Back in high school, he had even bleach-damaged his long beautiful raven locks just to avoid standing out. Though he's an introvert himself, he eventually got used to the public attention fame brings and learned how to tune it out. But he understood that it's not something everyone can easily adapt to. He wanted to ensure you felt at ease, so inviting you to his house seemed like the best way to enjoy each other's company without any unwanted attention. 

"You were staring, Ken," you chuckled.

The way you said his nickname was smooth and sweet, giving him chills. Your seductive voice held him utterly entranced. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips. 

You shared a few kisses, both gentle pecks and passionate ones, but it never went further than that. You didnt know each other long enough for it to go further than that. 

You smiled against his lips and he swore his heart skipped a beat. You don’t know what you do to him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy, like putty in your hands. 

He knew that if someone who knew him well, like Kuroo, saw him interacting with you, they wouldn’t believe it was the same Kenma. 

He surprised himself, honestly. Kenma wasn’t used to being this gentle; he was more familiar with hearing his friends call him a bit intimidating or too straightforward. Though he wouldn't admit it, he kind of enjoyed leaning into his scariness. He also really enjoyed making fun of his friends, if he didn’t throw shit at Kuroo at least once it’d be a bad day. He took particular delight in finding the perfect moments to attack in his monotone voice, and Kuroo was often his favorite target. 

Honestly, you couldn’t believe that the guy taking you out, showering you with gifts and compliments, taking photos of you when you asked, and offering to help you with everything, was the same guy famous for his streams being the definition of chaos. The contrast was striking, and you wondered if you’d get to see both sides eventually. 

"Ken? Should we clean up and watch a movie?" you whispered softly, your face just inches from his.

"Mmhm," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "How about I wash the dishes while you pick out a movie?" His eyes lingered on yours, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, "No, I'll do it. You paid for the food."

He smiled, appreciating your gesture. "Alright," he said, leaning back a bit. "But next time, it's my turn to clean up."

With a playful nod, you headed to the kitchen, feeling his gaze follow you.

He snickered, enjoying the view as you walked away.

Kenma often found himself questioning whether his opinions of you were merely a romanticized version he had created in his mind, or if you truly were that perfect for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his feelings were clouding his judgment, making you seem even more flawless than you actually were. The way you made him feel was undeniable, but he often pondered whether his perception was influenced by his own desires and hopes.

He mentally shook his head—no, that’s not how his mind operated. Kenma was to his core, a realist, often setting himself up for disappointment by meticulously analysing every detail. There was no idealized version of you in his mind; it was simply you. He couldn’t find any flaws because, to him, there genuinely were none.

He knew sooner or later he’d have to officially make you his. The thought of it made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. 

The fact that you were still technically available made him simmer with jealousy, despite the unspoken understanding between you that you were unofficially exclusive. He knew he needed to change the 'unofficial' part, though.

He didn't know what got over him, but something compelled him to go after you. An irresistible urge surged through him, driving him to follow you into the kitchen.

You were washing the last plate, completely lost in your thoughts, when you were suddenly brought back to reality by the feel of two hands gently gripping your waist and a head resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch and the closeness of his presence sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back, grounding you in the moment.

“Well, hello there,” you chuckled, your voice light and amused, hiding your nervousness.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending tingles through you. His arms tightened around your waist slightly, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle press of his lips against your skin.

You giggled in response. 

“I’m almost done with these. Did you pick a mo—” you were suddenly interrupted by his grip tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, followed by the sensation of wet, lingering kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

“Kenma, what are you doing?” You asked, your voice firm and low. 

"Whatever you want me to. If you want, I'll stop," he replied matter-of-factly, his breath warm against your neck. His hands remained firmly on your waist, but he eased up slightly, giving you the space to decide.

You paused.

"I want... I want more."

Kenma's eyes lit up. "More?" he echoed quietly, a spark of excitement and anticipation in his voice. His grip on your waist tightened once again, his lips hovering just above your skin as he awaited your next move, eager to fulfill your desire.

“Mhmm,” you nervously replied, still gripping the plates. Your heart raced as you felt him grin against your neck, anticipation building with every second.

“Well, if you want more, I'll give you more,” Kenma murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands slid up your sides gently, and his lips resumed their trail of kisses along your neck, making your heart race even faster.

His hands slid under your shirt, over your bra, an action that made you set the plates down in the sink gently. The feel of his touch sent a sense of calm through you, and you leaned back into him; an action that made him smirk against your neck.

He played with the textured lace of your bra, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if asking for permission to go further. You nodded, neither of you making a sound, the tension between you too much to make a sound. His fingers, encouraged by your silent approval, continued their exploration with more confidence.

He stopped at the hook of your bra, bringing both hands to unclip your bra in one swift motion.

The ease with which he did it made you wonder how much practice he had. His fingers moved so skillfully, it seemed almost instinctual. But don't worry; it was just a fluke. Even he was surprised by it. In reality, he was navigating this new territory with as much uncertainty as you were. The chemistry between you made everything feel natural, even though his heart was pounding just as hard as yours.

When your bra was completely off, with just a little bit of hesitation his hands approached to cup your breasts. His touch was tentative at first, fingers lightly tracing over them as if he were memorizing every curve. 

"Fuckin' perfect perky tits." he mumbled against your neck, almost as if he were talking to himself. His breath was hot against your skin, and the words came out in a hushed, reverent tone.

You could only giggle in response. 

He pulled one hand out from under your shirt, cringing as the sudden cold air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you provided.

With one hand still drawing circles around your chest, he brought the other one in front of you, his middle and ring finger just before your mouth. His silent request was clear, so he eagerly waited for you to part your lips. 

"Say it," you said, a sudden confidence overcoming you.

"Hmm? Say what?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

"Say what you want me to do," you commanded softly, challenging him to voice his desires.

"Oh yeah? Okay then. Suck ‘em," he said with a chuckle, his fingers practically pushing your lips open. The playful command, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers, sent a thrill through you. You parted your lips, letting his fingers slide in, and the taste of his skin filling your mouth.

He was still pressed up against your back, and throughout this entire exchange, it was the only time he was glad he couldn’t see your face. He knew he didn't have the self-control to hold back if he saw your pretty, pouty lips wrapped around his fingers like that. The thought alone was enough to drive him wild, but the feel of your mouth on his fingers, warm and inviting, was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, much to his displeasure, he had to remove himself from your mouth.

His sticky, saliva-covered fingers quickly slipped back under your shirt before you could notice. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled just below the waistband of your sweats, tracing the small bow on your panties.

With the fingers that were mere moments ago in your mouth he started gently tracing your nipple, slightly pinching it in the process, causing you to mewl oh so quietly. 

He had to bite down on your neck to quickly ground himself. Hearing you make a noise, even if it was barely audible, for the first time had him battling every instinct to not pounce on you that same instant. The soft sound made him want to hear it more, and he struggled to maintain control, every fibber of his being yearning to give in to the moment. He was so hard it was aching. 

He couldn’t help himself. While maintaining the rhythm of his fingers, he began gently grinding against you, unable to resist the overwhelming urge.

“Fuck, baby. I never knew it could feel this good, never felt this good with anyone. ” he quickly mumbled, his voice whiney, almost a whimper. 

You couldn’t even process the new pet name, you were clenching around nothing and aching for attention too much. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you were touched like this. Kenma had his own struggles with love due to his fame, and although you were locally known at best, it didn’t mean you didn’t attract a bunch of insecure boys. Men who claimed they didn’t care about the online attention you received would quickly change their tune when they saw how many men were in your comments. Some even used you to boast to their friends about talking to you. As a result, every experience you had prior to this one felt completely one-sided. They didn’t care if you felt good or not, as long as they got off. Your last boyfriend couldn’t even make you come once in the entire three months you were together.

But Kenma was different. Kenma wasn’t insecure, and his feelings for you, although attraction based at first, were real now. His touch was filled with genuine desire and hunger, making you feel truly seen and wanted, craved even. The contrast was striking,and it made all those past experiences fade into insignificance.

“Kenma?” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Mhmm?” he responded, his voice husky he continued to touch you. 

“Please. Wanna come,” you pleaded, your need evident in every word. The desperation in your voice only fueled his own, making him more determined to bring you to the edge.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, pretty,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. The hand that had been teasing the edge of your cute panties slipped inside, his fingers skillfully finding their way to your most sensitive spot.

He paused for a moment as his fingertips brushed against your entrance. “You’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, a hint of awe and satisfaction in his voice.

“Maybe you’re doing something right, then,” you replied with a teasing smile, your voice a mix of playful and breathless. 

“Maybe I am,” he teased back, a smirk playing on his lips as his middle finger began making gentle circular motions on your bundle of nerves using your own juices to lubricate it. It was so lewd. The sensation was like nothing you’ve felt before, making you gasp and lean further into him.

‘Fucking gamer hands.’ You thought to yourself. 

As his fingers continued their rhythmic movements, you could feel the intensity building within you, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths grew shallower, your heart racing as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations he was creating. His other hand, still wet and playing around with your nipple, only fueled the buildup. 

Kenma’s eyes never left what he could see of your face, watching every expression. You couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes closed in pleasure. If you could, you’d be terrified by the dark, feline-like stare he wore. His eyes were intense, predatory, and focused entirely on you, taking in every detail of your reaction. The sight of you, lost in feeling because of him, only spurred him on. 

He could tell you were close.

He whispered softly in your ear, “Let go for me, pretty,” his voice a mix of command and tenderness. His assured yet gentle words urged you to surrender. 

The rhythmic circles on your sensitive spot grew more insistent and you could feel the tension building, a powerful wave approaching.

His free hand roamed your body, adding to the sensations. You felt completely surrounded by him—his presence, his touch, his voice—all combining to create an experience unlike any you had known.

As the intensity built, your breaths became ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. Kenma’s dark, intense eyes never left your face, capturing every expression and quiver of pleasure.

 “Let go,” he repeated, his voice now a husky murmur, filled with urgency and promise. His touch and words were irresistible, and you finally surrendered, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Loud whimpers filled the house as your muscles tensed from the sensation. The intense pleasure made it impossible to stay quiet, each sound escaping your lips adding to the excitement. Your whole body tightened, responding to the waves of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and trembling in Kenma's arms.

He finally turned you around, taking a good look at your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in every detail—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression in your eyes. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“Was it good?” he asked, gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Not that there was any doubt in his mind it wasn’t. 

“Are you joking? That was the best one I’ve had in a long time.” you replied breathlessly , a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Your arms wrapped around him and he followed suit. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, you calming down from your high and him holding you through it.

His fingers gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that further eased you into a state of complete relaxation.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle and attentive.

“I’m on the pill, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but clear.

He grinned slyly, “Oh yea? And why are you telling me this?” 

You stood on your tiptoes, gently pulling him closer by the collar. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist, his breath hitching as you leaned in close. Your lips brushed against his ear, and you whispered, "Because I wanna go to your room so you can ruin me."

He hid his surprise and excitement, taking a step back. "Sorry, I don’t fuck strangers." He lied.

You were confused. "Strangers?" you echoed, your voice tinged with hurt and uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “So unless you wanna be my girlfriend, it’s a no for me.” He smirked, watching your face change from confusion to realization.

The initial hurt faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and excitement. "Girlfriend?" you repeated, your voice softening. 

“Mmhm.” He replied with anticipation. 

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh, fuck you. I thought you were going to kick me out or something. Couldn't you ask like a normal person?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “So, what’s it going to be? Girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, Kenma. I’ll be your girlfriend.’ 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Now, about ruining you...”

You looked up at him seductively. “Gonna have to catch me first.”

Before he could process what you said, you quickly turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing.

“Don’t run so loud, you’re annoying,” he called after you, a huge grin plastered across his face as he followed you.

Kenma genuinely lost count of how many times he came in you that night. 

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

a bunch of ppl requested anonymously for this to be a smut chapter, so I’m delivering lmaoo, you animals. (ILY THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT) Tags : @nazwrites-2002 @nishayuro @nnnyxie If u wanna get tagged in my next fic abt Suna or if u want a part 3 lmk <3

[strawhbrrries]

Inked

pairing: tattoo artist!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: frank castle was praised for his work constantly, leading you to get a thigh piece. which then leads you into a problem because your artist is so fucking attractive

warnings: cussing, masturbation (m and f), fingering, frank with no shirt, tattooed frank!!!, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread 

word count: 2732 words

author’s note: this has been a looooong time coming so i'm excited to finally be able to share it with you guys!! i hope it does the drabble that started it some justice. dedicated to the sweet anon that requested it be turned into a full fic! please enjoy! mwah!

tags: @kloofspeaks

inspired by this drabble!

Your wallet was burning a hole in your pocket, a big gaping tattoo shaped hole. To match the tattoo shaped hole in your wallet was a perfect spot on your thigh just begging to be decorated, but your current artist was booked so far out and you needed it now. 

“Just go to this guy.” Your friend mentioned, giving you the contact information for one of the artists at the studio they frequented. His work was insane, you spent an entire week looking and relooking at all the pictures he posted before ever working up the courage to email him, he was faceless and you assumed he was some old man who’d been in the game a long time.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

“Can I help you?” A deep voice snapped you back to reality, you had gotten side tracked looking at all the art on the wall from all the artists in the studio. The guy you were seeing, Mr. Castle, had the best work though and you were glad your friend had mentioned him. 

You turned around and immediately wanted to hide, a very handsome man with a tall stature was the source of the voice. It made your panties wet and made you want to rub your thighs together to relieve the building tension, not that it would help but you sure could try. He was rugged, in a gorgeous way, his hair was fluffy and fell over his ears but his jaw was sharp and complimented the style. His face was serious, not that he was trying to be but it made you nervous. Made you want to confess every bad thing you’d ever done out of sheer anxiousness, to fill the silence as he waited for your answer. You hoped he wasn’t your artist just for your sake, and maybe for your underwear.

“Yeah, uhm. I have a consultation with Mr. Castle.” Your voice was much softer than his, you looked down to avoid eye contact with him. To avoid spilling your guts to some handsome stranger who was probably married because how could he not be? 

“That’d be me.” For the first time since you saw him a smile appeared on his face, it complimented him more than the stoic look he carried. The blush that arose was almost embarrassing, he thought it was cute. “Just Frank though.”

“Huh?” You stopped listening after he mentioned he was your artist, the blood pumping in your ears being the only sound you heard. Of course you would end up with the world's most attractive man as your artist and of course he was going to be touching all over your legs, this was a cruel dream. You’d practically broken a finger from how hard you were squeezing your hands.

“Just call me Frank, Mr. Castle is my dad and I hate the formality.” He chuckled, writing something on the clipboard he’d been holding. You hadn’t noticed anything below his neck and now you were actively, and very obviously, checking him out.

His arms were veiny and filled with tattoos that disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt and poked back out at the neck before disappearing down his back, it seemed he had one big connecting tattoo but you couldn’t exactly ask him to strip in public. You couldn’t see his legs or his chest but you assumed they were also covered in tattoos, you wanted nothing more to learn about them all. 

“You can just follow me this way, the consultation won’t take long.” He cleared his throat, clearing the awkward air that hung between you. 

He walked to a booth all the way in the back and to the left, pulled the curtain closed after you walked in. Motioning to the chair that sat in the middle of the space you sat down and placed your purse on your lap, mentally cursing yourself for being so fucking awkward. This wasn’t your first tattoo so what was your problem? He was and you knew it. 

“Did you get the email I sent? I know my description of the idea was bad so I can explain it better.” You rambled, watching him sit on the swivel chair next to you and pick up an ipad from the counter that sat in the back. 

“Yeah, let me show you what I drew up and we can go from there.” He looked at you through his hair as he leaned his elbows against his knees, pulling up the drawing. He turned around and the ipad and handed it to you, chuckling when your eyes lit up at the design.

“It’s like you read my mind, holy shit. This is exactly what I envisioned.” For the first time since you saw him your voice was confident and loud, your eyes bright and your mouth a bright smile. He slowly took the ipad back and let out a laugh, god he was attractive.

“It’s what I do. Do you like it, does it need any change? If so I can fix those right now and then I can print it out and we can play with sizes.” He watched your face, he could almost see the gears turning in your head as you processed his words.

“It’s perfect, no changes.” You nodded, smiling big.

He printed out a few sizes and tested each of them against your thigh, he pretended not to notice the blush that only darkened in shade every time he touched you. You appreciated it, trying your best to regulate your breathing and the pounding your heart was doing. You worried if you’d be able to control yourself when it came to the actual tattoo, he would be touching you nonstop for an unknown amount of time. He settled on the middle size, taking up a big chunk of the free space you had but not so much it looked awkwardly big and not too little so it looked too small.

You had trusted him and set the date for your actual tattoo, two weeks from the day you went in. You spent every day and every night for the next two weeks thinking about him. If you were making breakfast you thought about how he liked his bacon cooked, his coffee, or if he even ate it at all. If you were showering you thought about the products he used and if he used a loofah or a rag, if he had separate conditioner and shampoo. When you laid awake at night, hands stuffed in your panties wanting to cry his name, you thought if he was doing the same. Came to the image of his smile and fell asleep to the sound of his voice playing in your mind.

He’d seen thousands of clients, tattooed plenty of attractive women, but nobody had been so stuck in his head like you. After he walked you to the door he went back to his booth, closed the curtain and fucked his hand like a teenage boy. Washed his hands in the bathroom and went to greet his next client like he wasn’t thinking about bending you over the counter. Having you ride him in the tattoo chair. Making you be quiet so no one else heard you. Shit, he was hard again. He didn’t know if his self control was strong enough to avoid hitting on you and being unprofessional the next time you came in. 

The day finally came, you had counted down the days and the minutes until you could see him again. There was this incessant need to see him and try to figure out the mysteries that stood behind Frank Castle. You asked him what kind of coffee he preferred, black, and picked it up on your way to the studio. The nerves were hitting you, not only would you be getting a decent sized tattoo but it’d be done by the most attractive man you’d ever seen. The man you’d spent two weeks masturbating to, this was going to be fun.

“God, this is just what I need this morning.” He groaned, taking the paper cup of coffee out of your hand and taking a long sip. “Typically I try not to drink caffeine on days I’m actually tattooing, makes the hand shake sometimes. I was up late last night so this is a must.”

“And I’m using it to get rid of the shakes.” You joked, taking a sip of your coffee and following him back to the booth. 

You’d opted to wear a yellow sundress, not by choice as it was one of the only clean articles of clothing you had that left your thigh relatively exposed. It was a choice you were now regretting, in the days leading up to the appointment you apparently did everything but laundry. Frank was trying his hardest to ignore it, he was insanely glad he’d walked in front of you. Had he been behind you he’d for sure stared at your ass the entire walk to his booth. He can’t deny that he hadn’t when he made you enter the booth before him, it was a glorious sight. He adjusted his pants before he did anything else, this was going to be a grueling few hours.

He carefully placed the stencil on your thigh, being careful to move the dress up just enough that it wasn’t in the way but not too much so your pussy was on display. He wished it was. He wanted to eat you out like it was his last meal. But he refrained. He’d been on his best behavior so far and he was determined to stay that way, no matter how much he wanted to hike your dress up and pull your panties down to your ankles. Once he finally was satisfied with the stencil placement he asked for your opinion, as it was going on your body forever and not his. You had him adjust the angle once before deciding it was perfect, he had to ask three times before you admitted you didn’t like the original placement.

The tattoo took three hours, three long hours of his hands touching you in the most non-sexual way but yet turning you on ridiculously. You were sure that by the time he’d wrapped your tattoo there was a large stain on the fabric of your panties, a part of you wanted him to see it and know he caused it. The other part was embarrassed. They were fighting to see which part would take over.

“Can I see your tattoos?” You asked softly, an attempt to stay with him longer and avoid going home. You knew you could just book another appointment but what fun would waiting be? You could just stall for as long as you could.

“Oh? Yeah, sure.” His face was shocked, like nobody in the entire world had ever asked to see the intricate tattoo that was drawn across his body. You refused to believe it.

You watched intently as he removed his shirt, your eyes following the lines that were revealed by the lack of fabric. He watched silently as you raked your eyes over his skin, a small hint of a blush covered his cheeks. He’d never had someone so curious about his tattoos and want to see them, it was odd to be the one in the spotlight. 

“Can I touch them?” You looked up at him, moving a bit closer as you waited for his response.

“Yeah…” He breathed out, quiet and waiting for the feeling of your hand on his skin. His breath hitched in his throat the second he felt it, the warmth of your hand felt incredible on his skin. 

You trailed your fingers over every line, starting from the bottom of his left arm and down his chest. Goosebumps followed closely behind your fingers, the contact was something unusual to him. Welcomed, but unusual. He watched you the entire time you marveled at the ink, answering every question you had. He’d had people be interested in the ink before but never to the extent you were, he appreciated it and would think about it forever. He’d think about you forever. 

“Frank…” You whispered, looking up at him as you placed a hand on his chest. 

He looked down at you and groaned, the self control he had was no longer a thing. The pink staining your cheeks and the way your eyes were glazed over and he hadn’t even touched you made him want to do bad things. He wanted to corrupt you, bend you to his will for only him to have. His head dipped down, softly placing his lips against yours. A small whimper escaped your lips as he brought a hand to cup the side of your face, switching positions with you on the counter. Now he had you pressed against it and was able to do whatever he desired.

He nipped at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue across it to soothe any pain. He’d slipped his other hand under your dress at the same time, rubbing the skin just above your panties. You leaned your hip into his touch, bringing the hand that was on his chest to his hair. Using it to ground yourself just a bit, the fact that you were making out with the man you lusted after for two weeks was insane. It felt like a dream.

“Can I touch you?” He mumbled against your lips, playing with the band of your panties. 

You shook your head yes and helped him slide your panties down, stepping out of them and scooting them to the side to be discovered later. He slid his middle finger between your lips, gliding it up and down a minute as he continued kissing you.

“You’re so wet, who did this?” He mocked, circling your clit a few times.

“You did.” You whimpered, trying to grind down against his hand for just a bit more friction.

“That right? Been thinking about me this whole time? Wanted me to help fix your problem?” He slid his middle finger inside of you, curling it against that wonderful spongy spot.

You couldn’t muster up a response no matter how badly you wanted to, his singular finger felt better than any of your fingers had for two weeks. This was everything you wanted and more. He chuckled at you, flattered that him barely doing anything set you off like it had. 

He pumped his finger in and out slowly, watching as your juices coated his finger. Enjoying the moans he was pulling out of you, even if they were trying to entice him into adding another finger. He gave in, the pretty noises you were making he just couldn’t resist. He would do anything in this moment to please you, if you had this effect on him for everything he’d be screwed. He added another finger, kissing along your jawline as he did so. You could’ve seen stars right then and there, if this was how full you felt from just his fingers you could only imagine the fullness from his cock.

He curled his fingers rhythmically with the pumping, using his thumb to circle your clit as best he could. The knot in your stomach that had formed the day you stepped into the studio was bubbling, you could feel it twisting and tightening. Your orgasm was on the tip of your tongue and it felt explosive, three more pumps of his fingers and your vision went white. His name falling off your lips like a mantra, like it was the only name you knew and you didn’t care if the rest of the studio could hear. He was making you feel so fucking good, you could scream it from the rooftops. 

Nearing the end of your orgasm he slowed his fingers down, placing one last kiss to your lips before completely removing them. You whined at the loss, feeling so empty now that they were gone. He smiled softly at the whine, washing his hands in the sink next to the counter before bringing a towel over to help clean up any mess.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” You joked, fixing the sweaty hairs sticking to your forehead.

“No, only you. Step in here in a sundress again and we’ll see what happens.”

[imtryingbuck]

Too Late part two

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader. Fem!Reader x Conrad (whoever you picture)

Summary: part two of Too Late

Word count: 2,613

Warnings: angst. fluff. lies? Steve makes an appearance. 

Part 1

Masterlist

Now in the two years since she had left she finally felt at peace, she found herself.

~~~

For close to a year Conrad would visit Y/n in her little sanctuary that sat alone in the woodland area, for those months Y/n didn’t trust him of course she didn’t he was a member of Hydra, the bad guys who spend years and years destroying the goodness that was James Buchanan Barnes, destroyed and killed those that didn’t bow down to them and abide by their rules.

And while yes Conrad decided not to put a bullet in her head like she had asked for him to do, choosing to open her eyes to the betrayal, he chose to give her a second chance in life he was still the guy apart of a terrible organisation.

Even though she didn’t trust him she did have to admit that she appreciated his help, appreciated his company. Every time he visited he brought supplies and food for her, he even showed up once with a van that had a ray of different livestock in the back so she could start a little farm up like she had wanted to do.

Y/n tried, she really did try to not get too comfortable with Conrad but he was just so easy to talk to about everything and anything, she appreciated that he never once mentioned Steven and his betrayal with Natasha. She hated how funny he was, she hated how much she missed him when he left to go back to the monstrous organisation that was Hydra. Hated how he occupied her mind when he wasn’t there helping around the house fixing things and only accepting a nice cold glass of homemade lemonade from her.

She definitely hated how much he looked so attractive when he chopped fresh firewood for her.

She especially hated that.

It wasn’t fair, he was supposed to be the enemy yet he had treated her better in those few months than anyone had ever.

It had been exactly four months, three weeks and two days since Conrad had last been to visit and she hated it. Though she had the many animals to keep her company she had to admit she was kind of going a bit crazy.

Molly the cow would look at her like she was insane when Y/n would be perch upon on the wooden little stool that Conrad had made for her, talking to the cow as she milked her. Y/n swore that one time the black spotted animal rolled her eyes at the woman once.

Y/n walked into the pigpen fussing over the month old piglets that were the most precious little things she had ever laid eyes on. When her leg was knocked she looked down to see Grumpy, named perfectly for his grumpiness, she patted him on his head telling him to hold on for food, chuckling lightly when he snorted in response. The moment she finished putting the food in the trough she heard the unmistakable sound of a car coming up the gravelled driveway.

Nobody had ever come up to where she lived apart from…

“H-he’s back” she mumbled to herself before dropping the bucket with a clank and running out finding herself nearly tripping over her own foot when she had to turn back around to shut the gate of the pigpen.

Running to the front of the house she saw the same car Conrad always came in, her eyebrows pulled together when she saw two figures sitting in the front, as the car got closer her heart started beating faster as she noticed Conrad and another figure she had come to know because of Steve.

“Y/n-“ Conrad shouts as soon as he gets out of the driver side door “-god I’ve missed you” he jogs over to her and wraps his arms around her frame, pulling back when he notices she doesn’t hug him back but is staring at the other person who stands by the car. “I can explain everything I promise”

“It’s nice seeing you again Y/n.”

Two sets of eyes moved back and forth as Y/n paced around in front of them. One was nervous the other didn’t care about her reaction, well lack of one. Conrad went to speak but the other person in the room shook their head.

“Y-you lied-“

“I didn’t lie-“

“You didn’t tell me the truth!”

“Because I couldn’t, I’m sorry Y/n”

“It’s true Y/n. He couldn’t tell you the truth”

The truth being that Conrad was never a member of Hydra but a SHIELD agent. He had been undercover for four years. There were a handful of agents that were sent undercover and Conrad was one of them, the plan was to take Hydra down from the inside.

From what Conrad had said that it had worked, they had successfully captured members of Hydra one by one.

“Bu-but your meant to be the enemy”

“Yet you trusted him”

Y/n’s eyes squinted at the man sat next to Conrad “I understand that I’ve got real bad judgment when it comes to trusting men Fury”.

“I understand your confused but to be honest Conrad never lied to you-“

“I’ve been thinking he’s the bad guy from the moment he kidnapped me!”

“And yet you trusted him enough to let him come into your home”

“I-shut up. Okay so why are you telling me now?”

“I’ll let him fill you in on that. I’m going to go, it was nice meeting you again Y/n, truly. Goodbye”

Y/n watches Fury stand up fixing his trench coat before nodding to both of them then leaving. Taking the car with him. Leaving with a promise, promising her that Steve doesn’t and will never know that she’s alive.

Conrad’s eyes never moved away from Y/n, patting the seat next to him sighing a breath of relief when she sits. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth about me, I wasn’t allowed to.”

“No I understand, sorry for overreacting”

“You didn’t-“ he chuckles “I missed you”

“I missed you too”

“So I erm I-I told Fury I want to retire and he’s accepted it, bu-but I was wondering i-if you would have me, here I mean”

“You want to say here? With me?”

“I haven’t got any family anymore a-and I feel happy here”

Conrad hated the silence that followed, he was about to tell her that it didn’t matter, that he would still come to visit, that he was sorry for overstepping when she finally spoke.

“We’ve got piglets. They are the cutest things ever, want to come look?”

“”We”?”

“Well yeah you live here now so…”

He moved so fast wrapping his arms around her, bringing her into his chest. Mumbling thank you over and over again.

In a way Conrad went off script when he took Y/n from her shared apartment with Steve, it was Hydra’s plan all along. The plan was to find a way to destroy Captain America. They had heard from a Hydra agent that was undercover with SHIELD that America’s golden boy had a girlfriend but was cheating on her with the black widow. The plan was to use Y/n as a way to get Steve to stop destroying their ‘hard work’. They were going to blackmail him, telling him that they won’t tell Y/n about his straying ways as long as he did what they said.

It was foolproof as the double agent told them that Steve was in love with Y/n.

Even though he had been cheating on her with someone she thought was her friend.

But Conrad knew that Hydra would hurt her just to get Steve to break. And that wasn’t something he could stand by and watch so he told the team he had been in charge of that he had gotten word that it was time to go ahead and kidnap Y/n. He did have to admit that it was admirable that she put up a fight against ten men who were ten times bigger than her, he hated it when Mitch punched her.

Due to having eyes on him he had to act as if the tears that were coming out from her pretty eyes wasn’t bothering him when she watched her boyfriend and friend sleeping together. When the Avengers showed up he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling as Steve tries to make a pathetic attempt at explaining his betrayal. He did have to force himself to stifle the laugh that tried to make its way out when Natasha had tears in her eyes hearing that she meant nothing to Steve.

Conrad’s heart clenched at hearing that she was pregnant because she had already asked him to kill her, a thing that he agreed to do even if he didn’t want to. But hearing that she had lost her unborn baby made his heart clench even harder.

Getting her out of the rundown facility was easy as his team were to focused on keeping their eyes and guns trained on the Avengers. Getting her to the farmhouse that sat alone in the middle of nowhere was easy even if she was driving him mad when she kept asking him where he was taking her.

Fury found out that it was Conrad that had ‘killed’ Y/n a few months back when he had to meet the man to talk about how the progress was going. Fury was angry. He had met Y/n a handful of times he thought she was sweet, nice, definitely didn’t deserve to have her life to be ended the way it was. That was until Conrad told him the truth.

For the four months, three weeks and two days since he hadn’t seen her it had drove him insane he wanted so badly to reach out to her and let her know that he was thinking about her, that he was definitely coming back to her. Fury made him go no contact with her until the dust settled around them.

Conrad begged Fury not to let Steve know about Y/n being alive or where she was, Nick wasn’t a stupid man he knew that Conrad had clearly grown fond of Y/n. Finding out what Steve had done, he gave the man pacing around in his office his word. Steve would never find out.

“Con! We’ve got a runner!” Y/n screamed trying to chase after one of the pigs who decided to make a run for it. “She’s coming your way”

“I’ve got eyes on her! I’ve got her!” He cheered picking up the animal, who actually sighed in defeat.

“Shes so fast it’s unbelievable”

“I know, she was on a mission to get away” he laughed placing the pig back down into the pen.

“Her mission fail- what?”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Gimme a kiss- wait…”

It had been two years since Conrad had joined Y/n at the farmhouse after retiring, in those two years Conrad had confessed his feelings for her, he understood that she probably needed some time since how her last relationship had ended so he was completely shocked when she jumped into his arms and kissed him. Through them two years they lived happily in complete ignorance of the world around them.

“What?” Following Conrad’s eyes looking up at the sky she frowned. “That’s one of SHIELD’s jets Con…”

“I know. Stay close to me okay”

“Obviously”

They watch in silence as the jet lowers on the field just at the back of their home, the door comes open and the ramp begins to descend. They share confused glances at seeing no one making an appearance, when someone finally stands in the doorway Y/n gasps.

It’s been four years to that day since she last saw him. Those four years weren’t kind to him honestly. His hair was longer and he was even sporting a beard. He looked bigger in muscle though his face was slimmer, his once bright blue eyes were now sunken and dull.

“H-how did he find us?” She whispered unable to move her eyes away from him.

Steve Rogers had found them.

And unfortunately was now making his way down the ramp.

Since Y/n had her eyes trained on his approaching figure she didn’t notice the rest of the Avengers making their exit from the jet. Even Loki and Bruce were there.

“You-you made out that you’ve been dead for four years and yet here you are shacking it up with the enemy” his voice was deeper than it use to be.

“How did you find her?” Conrad asked standing in front of her, not liking the way Steve’s eyes moved up and down her body.

“You let me believe that you was dead baby, for four years I’ve-“

“What are you doing here?” She cut him off.

“Fury. He’s not as sneaky as he thinks.”

“Why are you here Steven?”

“I want you back” Steve states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not happening. Leave all of you”

“Baby I made a mistake-“

“Don’t come any closer Rogers. I mean it” it’s now Conrad’s turn to interrupt him. Steve cocks his head to the side and laughs. But does as the other man says.

“He’s Hydra baby-“

“He was undercover for SHIELD. Please leave now”

“Is that what he told you?”

“It’s what Fury told me. Leave”

“Just come home okay, I can be better please baby I love you”

“I’m already home. Tony, Bucky please get him gone”

Bucky looks at her with an unreadable expression on his face “it’s nice to see you again Y/n/n. Come on Steve she’s happy here let-“

“No. No because she isn’t. She can’t just run away and pretend she’s dead-“

“You was cheating on me Steven. With my so called friend as well. I’m happy here, I don’t want you anymore”

“Natasha meant and still means nothing to me baby, it was a mistake, one that I want to make up for. Please just come home”

“I don’t care, I stopped caring about you and her a long time ago. I won’t ask-“

“Just come home!” Steve shouts cutting her off.

“She is home! Just leave and move on”

Standing there Steve shakes his head slowly before looking back up to Y/n. “D-do you really love him?”

“I do”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does”

Nodding, defeat and acceptance written on his face. “I really am sorry for everything I did Y/n, I-I never wanted to hurt you, I’m sorry truly.”

Leaving Conrad’s side she walks closer to Steve, standing in front of the man who she loved so much, the man who broke her heart. “I forgive you Steve, I’m happy now. Conrad is a great person and he makes me happy”

“I’m glad. I-I’ll always love you Y/n. Goodbye” Steve says before walking backwards and turning around to walk up to the jet. Everyone all except Natasha nods or waves to Y/n before following their captain.

Watching the jet leave Conrad moves closer to her wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You alright my love?”

“I’m more then alright, come on I’m starving and let’s not forget I am eating for two”

Hand in hand with Conrad she walks into their farmhouse seeing the positive side to seeing Steve again, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

At first Steve cheating on her was the worst thing that ever happened to her, but now four years later she was finally happier than ever before with the man who loves her and their unborn baby.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @vicmc624 | @capsbestgirl77

[twitchmattentusiast]

sorry but picturing brothers best friend chris punishing you because you’ve been teasing him all day and your brother is looking for you and chris has his hand over your mouth telling you if you make a sound he’ll start over again

꩜ .ᐟ BEGGING FOR IT - chris sturniolo

pairings. chris sturniolo x bsf little sister reader.

warnings. insane dom!chris, sub!reader, degradation, spanking, sneaking around

might of gone a littleeeee overboard

you had always been in love with chris.

since childhood, you followed behind the boy like a lost puppy, much to your older brothers protests.

you just couldn’t explain it. you were obsessed with chris. you were young—far too young to even officially know what love was or what it meant—but it felt like chris was your everything.

he always included you. sticking up for you when your brother would attempt to kick you out, handing you a controller so you could join mario kart, and moving over so you could watch the movie too. 

he was the sweetest and funniest guy you knew. always sticking by your side and protecting you.

until he didn’t.

when he started his freshman year, everything changed.

you were two years younger than chris. and the age difference never seemed to matter after all; it was only two years, but suddenly he was always reminding you. you were too young; you were still in middle school, therefore far too young to hang with him and your brother and their new friends.

you didn’t stop trying, though. you thought it was some kind of joke because why else would the guy who was always sweet to you and protective over you suddenly turn into a cold, distant asshole? 

you quickly learnt it wasn’t a joke. when you planned to go to your brothers room, hand hovering over the door until it dropped when you heard them.

chris and ethan, one of his and your brother's new friends, were talking about you.

no.

talking shit about you.

it upset you. after all, you had never spoken more than two words to ethan; he didn’t even know you! and he was talking shit about you; but after that, what upset you was chris talking shit about you. calling you annoying and clingy when he had assured you over the years that you were nothing of the sort.

after that day, you swore to hate christopher sturniolo, and quickly you turned from good friends to enemies. 

you were so stubborn and persistent that chris sturniolo would never bother you or get into your heart again. so, you distanced yourself from him. 

your brother was surprised. usually when he announced chris was coming over you’d stay by his side until chris came and then you clung to his but now you’d leave. half the time you wouldn’t even be in the house.

chris was slightly surprised too. you distanced yourself so much he felt he hasn’t seen you in ages and he convinced himself he had no idea why.

you had been successful at distancing yourself from him until a year ago where you bumped into chris at a party you had snuck into.

you hadn’t even noticed chris he was the one who spotted you and stormed over demanding to know how 18 year old you in senior year had managed to sneak into a college party in another town and why you were talking and flirting with a bunch of other guys.

you rolled your eyes and ignored him telling him to leave you alone. though your eyes couldn’t help to take him in and you realised he’d unfortunately gotten more attractive.

he scoffed letting go of you arm and storming off not saying another word and you were so sure you’d never see him again.

until a week later you were at your friends birthday, she was introducing you to her boyfriend when chris appeared by his side your friends boyfriend saying chris was one of his best friends.

you rolled your eyes again as of fuckinf course just as you thought you’d escaped him he was right there. you walked away and ignored him, deciding to flirt with other guys openly which annoyed chris leading him to grab your arm and drag you upstairs to fuck yiu eoughly in the bathroom.

you both said that night was a mistake but says later you were at another party and fucked in a storage closest and just like that you guys had become enemies with benefits. you hated each other to the point you’d want to fuck.

you fucked in secret, your older brother having no idea that you guys were speaking again let alone fucking. all he knew is whenever he’d see you guys together you’d love to tease chris.

and he wasn’t wrong you loved teasing chris. loved to push him see how far he’d go. teeth caught firmly between your lip as your mind would race to how he’d punish you.

chris would quickly put you in place when you were acting out and that was exactly what he was doing now.

you were bent over chris’s lap, mascara rushing down your face, holding back sobs, your ass in the air as chris delivered yet another harsh and painful smack to your already red ass.

chris thought that you’d never looked prettier.

“what you crying, you little bitch?” chris sneered as he yanked your hair, forcing you to look at him. 

you shook your head too weak to even form a response as another son threatened to escape.

chris chuckled his finger wrapping around a lose thread of your hair. “you asked for this you know” he sneered as he twirled your hair, he chuckled darkly. “it’s almost like you were . . . begging for this sweetheart.” he continued.

you shook your head. “no, chris i-“

“no?” he cut you off. “you had your ass pressed to another guys dick the entire night. what are you, a filthy slut, huh?” he asked anger in his voice as he again smacked your ass harshly, smirking as a moan escaped you.

you refused to admit it, but you loved it when chris punished you like this.

"thought that guy could fuck you better?” chris asked, leaning down to bite harshly on your collarbone. “you growing tired of this big cock baby?”

you shook your head, a moan escaping as chris had somehow sneaked his hand to your chest, one of his hands twisting your nipple. “no chris, i love your cock,” you whined pathetically.

chris being the smug motherfucker he is, he smirked.

“you love this cock yeah?”

you nodded about to open your mouth when chris chuckled darkly. “nice try y/n. trying to sweet talk me so i won’t punish you anymore?”

“you’ve been a naughty girl, y/n. thinking another guy's small cock could fuck you, fill you, make you lose control, and be that good slut like we both know you can be like i can. you’re mine, y/n, you got that? mine to fuck, mine to do whatever the fuck i want. you deserved to be punished, you fucking whore.” 

your eyes widened slightly, but you felt yourself grow even more wet at chris's words. he was right. you secretly were a slut. you didn’t really know until you started fucking chris, but he bought the real version of you out. 

chris ran his pinky along your cheeks, smirking as the mascara coated his finger. “aw baby, i've turned you into such a mess, haven’t i?” 

you whined your ass wiggling in the air slightly as the pain was unbearable, but just as you tried to escape, chris pinned you back down. 

“stop moving, you bitch,” he spat. “youre going to sit here and take each smack like a good girl, and if you even think about missing a number, I’ll start all over again, got it?”

you nodded your head. “yes.”

“yes what?” chris asked, eyebrows raised.

“yes daddy.”

chris smirked and kissed the top of your head. “good girl. you gonna make it to 10 f’me?”

you tried to respond, but before you tried to open your mouth again, his hand hit your ass harshly. you hissed in pain; your ass probably bruised with how long you’d been here, but this was making you so horny, and you loved it. 

“o-one” you choked out, knowing chris would stick to his word.

you couldn’t see him, but you were sure he was smiling as the other smack came right after.

your ass jiggled a loud cry, leaving your lips as you gripped onto your mattress. “t-two” you cried.

“good girl.” chris praised rubbing your ass for a second as if to soothe the pain.

his words made you grow even more horny. your arosual dripping down his leg.

his hand came down another time. the third time. you fought in his embrace, crying out loud. “c-chris, i can't; it’s too much,” you sobbed. 

before chris could respond, a voice was heard outside your bedroom door.

your brothers voice.

you and chris froze quickly. both your eyes darting to your door as you both racked through your. rains trying to remember if you locked it or not. 

“y/n?”

your expression grew panicked as chris smirked, sending another harsh smack to your ass. you moaned, but chris quickly covered your mouth. 

“you in there?” your brother tried again. “you haven’t seen chris, have you? he left my room like half an hour ago, and i haven’t seen him since.” 

another smack was delivered to your ass, and you moaned your body moving. chrid clamped his hand tighter around your mouth. “such a whore letting me punish you like this when your brother is looking for me, hm?” he whispered.

you moaned, nodding your head in agreement. 

chris smiled.  “tell you what, you keep quiet and don’t let your brother hear us; i'll only make you count till five? yeah?”

you nodded, and just as your brother tried asking a question again, another smack was delivered, causing you to cry out. “one” 

your brother started to grow worried, moving to the doorknob, groaning as it remained locked. “y/n/n, you okay?”

another.

“t-two”

“y/n! i swear to fucking god!”

“t-three”

your brother’s footsteps started departing. mumbling something about how stubborn you are and why he even tried. but you weren’t focused on that, as suddenly you realised you didn’t remember which number you were on.

you began to panic.

was it two?

three?

it’s got to be four right?

no, you could of sworn it was three.

with how many slaps chris has delivered, you were losing your mind, so you mumbled a weak “t-three?” in fear.

chris smirked. “seriously y/n?”

you froze in fear.

“you were so close, soo fucking close, but you couldn’t even remember the number four?” he asked, "we’re starting again, baby.”

he chuckled as you tried to escape.

“and after that, you’re getting tied to the bed, and i'm eating you out till you feel you’re going to pass out because you thought it was a good idea to be a naughty girl and press your ass against someone who isn’t me. got it, you bitch?”

[reallyromealone]

Title: tattoo dates

Pairing: dabi x keigo

Fandom My hero Academia

Warnings: baby reader, single dad Dabi, no quirk au, fluff

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

Don't be the step dad, be the dad who stepped up.

The sound of summer could be heard in the early morning of Tokyo, the cool air refreshing for Keigo as he stepped into the small tattoo parlor and taking in all the art on the walls. It was actually quite nice... The parlors he looked at online seemed to try and look more badass but this one was organised and incredibly clean "you're my 8:30, right? Keigo Takami?" What he wasn't expecting based on the aesthetic of the parlor was a black haired man covered head to toe with tattoos and piercings, a loose fitting worn tank top that looked intentionally worn out and a pair of black cargo pants and god Keigo was thankful he was wearing sunglasses as he noticed a feint outline.

"That's me~ thanks for fitting me in so early!"

"Yeah, whatever... You wanted a back tattoo right? Do you have a picture?" Dabi was tired, his kid was sleeping in the other room as it was too early to take him to daycare today and the little guy wasn't feeling well so he didn't want him far away "so serious ~ trying to be all tough for me?" Keigos charm was not working as Dabi rolled his eyes "get on the table and take off your shirt" the black haired man said as Keigo pouted but sent him the reference as their phones touched, hopping on the table and removing his shirt.

"Wings?"

"Red ones" hawks said as he rested his cheek on his fore arm, arms crossed over one another relaxed as he felt the other prepare the tattoo and sanitize his back "what shade?" Dabi asked softly as he prepared the tattoo pen "a bright red...crimson almost"

Dabi was focused, the mirror infront of the table, full length and clean as crystal thus giving Keigo a full view of his tattoos arms flexing under the florescent lights "your parlor is much different the others" Keigo said breaking the silence as the needle hit his skin "yeah, gotta keep things clean..." He said simply, Keigo noting how everything was kept at least 3 feet off the floor or locked away.

Music played softly in the background as Dabi worked away "so what do you do for fun?"

"Don't have much time for hobbies" Dabi said simply, the detail he was putting into it was impressive especially the price the other was paying "really? How come?" Keigo asked curiously and the black haired man looked at him from the mirror "being a dad doesn't give much free time"

"You're a dad?"

"Yeah, eight month old... He's sleeping in the other room right now" it was rather early Keigo thought, having booked out of hours for security reasons "I see..."

The two worked for another hour and a half till Keigo was given a break, looking at the work so far he was quite impressed as Dabi went to the other room to check on the kid "hope you don't mind, he's pretty chill so he won't cause issue"

Ok, why was this man so attractive holding a kid? What the fuck.

Keigo tried not to look flustered as the tiny baby looked back sleepily, drinking his bottle calmly before being set in his play pen that was off to the side "normally I don't keep kid stuff here..." (Name) babbled softly as he played with his toys, fully content doing his own thing as dad was fairly close "you ready to continue?"

By the end of the session, Keigo smiled at the babe who was vibing "your total will be 900" the detail on the wings were insane, best work the other has done as Keigo smiled "thanks for being normal... Most places freaked out when they met me"

"Who are you?" Dabi asked blankly and Keigo looked startled but smiled "just an actor, ya know?" Dabi shrugged as the actor paid for his tattoo, (name) snuggling into his dad's arms as the actor left.

But that wouldn't be for long.

Keigo showed up for another tattoo, though this one would have to be in phases as (name) had a doctor's appointment "yeah, he has teeth growing in... So gotta make sure it's going alright" (name) was chewing on a cold teething ring as Keigo booped his forehead, the babe looking confused but didn't do much else.

"A date?" Dabi raised an eyebrow as Keigo leaned over the counter "yeah, I found a good restaurant and it has a kids menu... Maybe mashed potatoes for the big guy over there" (name) looked up as he was chewing on his dad's fingers "you know what a date means right? Were a package deal, he comes first" dabi was deathly serious and Keigo smiled "absolutely"

"Then wine and dine me pretty boy"

[writeforfandoms]

Puppy Love 1

Find my CoD Masterlist

Gaz decides to get a puppy, and drags Price along for the ride. Plus, the breeder is cute. And single.

Warnings: Swearing, puppy cuteness overload, soft Gaz, soft Price. 

All the smooches to my beloved @sprout-fics​ for not only putting up with my insanity but actively encouraging it. You’re the best. 💖

Word count: 1.8k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

Gaz whistled to himself as he headed to Price’s office. He was dragging his captain out for a few hours if it was the last thing he did. (Not that he expected too much resistance, not once Price found out where they were going.) 

“Captain,” he greeted as he stepped into the office. The best descriptor for the office was controlled chaos. Paperwork covered every available flat surface, an empty mug balanced precariously on the corner of the desk.

“What is it, Gaz?” Price didn’t even bother to look up from a form he was filling out. 

“Field trip time.” Gaz tossed the keys in his hand for emphasis, smirking.

That did get Price to look up with a frown. “Where?” His gaze darted down to his calendar, and Gaz knew he had nothing there. Hook…

“Remember a couple weeks ago, told you I sent in the deposit for a puppy?” It had been a big move, one the two (and the team) had discussed at length. They’d all supported his decision in the end, especially after being faced with the sheer volume of research he’d done. 

“Yes?” Price was still frowning, but less sternly now. Line… 

“Pups are two weeks old now.” Gaz tossed the keys again. “Breeder’s been sending pictures, they’re right cute.” Another toss of the keys. “She also invited me out to see them.”

“Did she now?” Price straightened, fingers tapping at his desk before he set his pen down. 

And sinker. Gaz hid his smirk. “You should come with, Cap. It’s a litter of seven.” 

Price eyed him for a few long moments before he sighed and gave in. As expected. “How far out?” he asked gruffly, already patting his pockets to make sure he had everything he’d need for a little venture. 

“Not too far,” Gaz said, grinning openly now that he was getting his way. “About an hour.” 

Price grunted. “Let’s go, then.” His gruff demeanor didn’t fool Gaz. He knew the Captain wanted to go see the puppies. 

Gaz hopped into the driver’s seat, since he actually knew where he was going. But he did let Price control the music. Anticipation had his fingers drumming on the wheel, and he might’ve pushed the speed limit. Just a little. 

But he was still a better driver than Soap. 

–

You hummed to yourself as you did a few dishes in between visits. You were still expecting one more person to show up today, but you figured you had a little time before his arrival. Your two girls were out back, and Lola (the momma) was with her pups in the dining room. 

In other words, everything was good. 

The knock on the door startled you, and you could hear Sasha start barking out back, as she did every time someone knocked on the door. You dried your hands quickly and walked over to the door, opening it. 

Two men stood on your doorstep. The younger-looking one was already grinning, an air of contained energy around him. He was quite handsome, which you noted almost absently. But the other… The other man was too damn attractive. You could tell he was the older of the two, bits of silver in his hair and mutton chops. He was standing back a step, letting the younger man take the lead.

“Kyle?” you guessed with a smile, holding out your hand to the younger man.

“Yes ma’am.” He shook your hand, firm and polite. “This is my friend, John.”

“Nice to meet you both.” You held out your hand to John with the same smile. “Please, come on in. The puppies are mostly asleep, but they’re only two weeks old.”

Both men stepped into the house past you, and you almost closed the door.

Except that a black blur zoomed in the front door and barreled into John.

“Sasha!” you gasped in a mixture of horror and mortification, immediately grabbing the dog and yanking her backwards. “I am so sorry, she’s never done that before!”

“No harm done,” John was quick to assure you, looking down at the dog. He blinked. “That’s, er. Not a Boxer.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No, she’s a Labrador Retriever. She was a gift, one I regret every day.” You circled one hand around her muzzle gently, guiding her to look up at you. “Did you jump the back fence?” 

Her ears went down and her eyes got impossibly bigger, even as she tried to tug out of your grip.

“Bad girl. You know better.” You sighed, keeping a firm hold on her. “Again, I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” John held out one hand to Sasha, and she immediately started sniffing him. Rather to your surprise, she started licking his fingers. “She’s a sweet thing, isn’t she?”

“Well, yes, but she’s normally a bit wary of strangers.” You watched the interaction, a little incredulous, as Sasha tried to cozy up to the big man. “Let me just put her in the other room. She’s still a bit too rambunctious for the puppies, and Lola doesn’t like her in with them.”

Both men waited patiently as you half-dragged Sasha to your office, closing her in. She banged on the door a couple times with a soft woof. 

“Right. Puppies.” Flustered now, you straightened and tugged your shirt straight. “Right this way.”

You walked ahead of them, blocking their view until just the right moment. Then you turned and stepped aside, watching as both men absolutely melted. 

Two week old Boxer puppies didn’t do a lot besides yelp for momma, drink, crawl around, and leave waste… But they were also really damn cute. 

“How many of each?” Kyle asked, taking a cautious step closer.

“Come on in,” you invited, stepping the rest of the way into the room and rubbing Lola’s ears. She heaved the biggest sigh and laid her head down on top of your foot. “Lola doesn’t mind.”

Kyle was quick to find a place to sit, very gently touching each puppy, awe in his eyes. John stayed back a bit, but he was no less enamored. 

“This time I’ve got four girls and three boys.” You smiled down at the puppies. “I believe you mentioned you want a boy?”

“Think so, yeah.” His big hands were delicate as he stroked the nearest puppy ever so gently. 

“Well, you’ve got first pick.” You smiled at his startled look. “You got your deposit in before anyone else. So you get your pick of the litter.” 

His smile was nearly blinding. 

“Take your time,” you assured him, carefully moving your foot from under Lola’s head and ignoring her baleful look. “I’ll just be in the kitchen, just through there.” You stepped out of the room, sort of. The only thing separating the dining room from the kitchen was a counter, so you could still see Kyle, Lola, and the puppies. 

John joined you, standing next to you, arms crossed over his chest. His very broad chest, which you just noticed. You had to fight not to look. 

"How long have you been doing this?" He nodded to the puppies. 

"This is my third litter." You smiled. "Honestly, I kind of tripped into this by accident, but I don't regret it. They're a wonderful breed." You eyed him for a moment before your smile turned mischievous. "Usually I warn people that they can be pretty high-energy but I have a feeling you won't have a problem keeping up." 

He laughed, low and rumbling and oh so nice. "Gaz is high-energy," he agreed. "Won't be a problem. Might keep him out of trouble." 

"Gaz?" You blinked. 

"Kyle." John waved a hand. "It's a nickname." 

You didn't push, didn't ask, just nodded. "Thinking of getting one yourself?" You couldn't help but tease, just a little. 

"Nah. Not my speed." John shrugged, glancing back behind the two of you as Sasha whined. "If anything, I'd go for one like her." 

"You want her?" You offered, mostly joking. "She comes house broken."

He laughed again, and it was even more wonderful the second time. "Thanks but no thanks." He paused for a moment. "How did you end up with a lab?"

You chuckled. "It's a long story. Some things happened with her first family. She was a very mouthy puppy, and they couldn't get past that. So I offered to take her." You smiled a little. "She's a good girl, and she's very people-oriented. She's just got no manners." 

John nodded slowly. "Good of you to keep her," he murmured. 

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Your smile was a little sad. You had no family, no significant other, and few friends. You had the dogs instead. "You're allowed to go play with them too, if you want." 

"I'm good here." His smile was almost teasing when he looked at you, and you chuckled. 

"Well, if you have any questions…" You trailed off meaningfully. 

"I know Gaz already interrogated you." His lips twitched, like that was an inside joke. (And not far from the truth - Kyle had asked a bunch of questions the first time he'd called, like he had a list.) "Is this your only job?"

That was certainly a polite way to ask. You'd had much less polite inquiries. "I work from home. I'm a purchasing coordinator. This is just for fun and love of the breed." 

John nodded. "I see. Convenient." 

"Until I have seven puppies howling at something at 3am in a month or so," you agreed, laughing. "Then I'll swear I'm never doing this again." 

That delightful laugh rumbled between you. Somehow, the two of you had edged closer together, and you could just feel the warmth radiating from him. There was something about him that put you at ease.

Which was unusual. Sasha wasn't the only one wary of strange men. 

Kyle reappeared a good ten minutes later with the sappy grin of one who has absolutely fallen in love. "Sure they're all spoken for?" He asked, glancing back at the puppies one more time. 

You laughed quietly. "Six of them are," you agreed cheerfully. 

Kyle looked back at the puppies, thoughtful, and John snorted. 

"No. You're getting one." 

The chiding tone was such a dad tone that you snorted and clapped a hand over your mouth. 

"Sorry," you squeaked, trying very hard not to laugh. "Ahem. Anyway. Kyle, you're welcome anytime, just let me know so I can make sure I'm home." You smiled at John. "You're welcome, too." 

"Thank you." 

You walked the two to the door, watching as they got into an SUV. You waved them off, waiting until they were on their way before you closed the door. 

"What am I going to do with you," you sighed at Sasha. She just wagged her tail at you.

[whore4brielle]

TATTOO ARTIST CHOSO <3

Choso was your favorite tattoo artist and piercer, the fact that he could do both was so attractive. He was so skilled, he was the same man who did your nipple piercings. And after that you suffered from a massive crush on him.

Y/n fantasizing and masturbating while thinking about the man who pierces her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Y/n you’ve been coming a lot lately”

“Hmm?” You asked losing your train of thought, choso had his hair down and he was getting ready to pierce your right ear, after you got your left ear pierced last week. Choso suspected something was up.

He just slightly chuckled at your oblivious act has you sat in the little chair, tattoos decorated his skin has you noticed the letters “YT” on his knuckle.

“I like your tattoo”

“Which one” he would say inching closer to you sitting on the stool infront of you.

“This one” you say has you grab his hand gently grazing the 2 letters.

“Ohhh.. she’s an ex… did it myself” he says leaning his head back up smiling as you lightly smiled back. Trying obviously not to show that you were jealous.

You turned your head to the right has he felt around your ear, tensing up at his touch.

“You were jealous for a second weren’t you?”

“Me jealous never? What are you talking about”

“I’m just teasing” he smiled has he cleaned the area around your ear.

“That’s not very professional of you choso.”

“Oh really?” He said sticking the needle into your ear and inserting the small 🦋 jewelry in.

“Fuck” you cussed out feeling the needle go into your skin.

“Was that very professional y/n” he said watching how you winced out in pain. you rolled your eyes at his comment and when it was all over you paid him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

But only you knew why you were coming to the shop that much recently, and no it wasn’t because of the piercing that was now on your ear and any other piercing that you would get. It was for choso, for him to secretly notice you. That’s all you actually wanted.

You now scrolled through the insta of the guy who had just pierced your ear this morning. The anticipation was eating you alive.

Him having an ex just drove you insane, what type of treatment was she getting from a fine man like that and why did they breakup.

Was that even any of your business, it definitely wasn’t but you didn’t care at all. You turned over in bed, you laid straight has you started to rub your clit forming slow circles through the fabric of your pink shorts.

You stumbled across an old mirror picture of choso, his hair was down just like how it was in the shop earlier. He wore a black shirt and some sweatpants and you could see his print perfectly.

Many thoughts went through your brain has you thought about choso just fucking you right then and there in that same mirror he stood at, you would love it so much.

You quickly came a few seconds after rubbing your clit. You whispered choso’s name has your climax reached its peak.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Y/n you again” choso would say has he saw your face at the front desk.

“Surprised to see me really?” You smiled at the man.

“What do you want now y/n” he smiled back at you.

“Septum” you waited briefly in the front of the shop before choso took you in the back to do your piercing.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You rode your pillow later that night thinking about how choso pierced the small jewelry hanging from your nose. You hated it, you wanted to rip it out. But since choso did it… it was an exception for now.

“Choso please” you would say riding the pillow has you thought about his calloused hands and his arms that were mostly filled with tattoos.

You came quickly after. Your juices soaked the pillow underneath you.

After you showered you spent the rest of your night stalking choso’s socials once again before bed.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[wordy-little-witch]

Hiiii PLS 🙏 wordy plssssz i need more transfem buggy headcanons like i love ur post but i need more🥹🤲 like the hc and scenarios that shook the seas,,, wat r crossguilds reaction n shanks n other pirates reaction uahxiskzkzs shes gonna b so hot dksk ive seen fanart and fembuggy looks so HOTTTT

Hiiiii honeybun!!! I got you, dw ♡♡

Reactions!!!!!!!

Shanks

• he finds out through news coos and bounty posters. It's no secret that the redhair pirates keep careful tabs on bounties, new and old faces alike in the game, but there's special attention to black haired rubber boys and blue haired clowns when it comes to bounties and reports. The crew knows this and supports it. So when they get a paper, when Benn reads through it and does a spit take with his coffee, everyone cones scurrying, especially when he yells for their captain.

• (romantic) Shanks, upon seeing the bounty and story, is left reeling. Buggy had always been breathtaking to him, had always been the epitome of everything he finds beautiful and attractive. Shanks adores Buggy, head to toe, inside out, and even then he could always see the little chinks in the other's armor, the discomfort and uncertainty that stained the clown's cells. It's in the microexpressions, he knows, and those signals are suddenly gone in these pictures. He's breathless. He's swooning. He needs to see Buggy in person.

• (platonic) similar to the above, Shanks keeps tabs on his precious people. And Buggy, his beloved baby brother, his beloved best friend, is among those he looks out for from afar. Seeing Buggy so different, so bright, seeing the way his - her - smile finally reaches her eyes and eyebrows and cheeks, it makes him melt a little. He's proud, so proud, so happy that Buggy looks happy and healthy, and he's.... he wants. By the Seas, he wants to see her. He wants to see and meet his sister.

Crocodile

• Depending on the time frame when the change happens, Crocodile either meets Buggy for Cross Guild as a woman or deals with the transitional phase with the business. If it's the latter, he actually makes a point to try affirming what he believes is Buggy's gender identity in vague terms. Then, when Buggy begins to shy away from them, he moves to more neutral monikers, heavy on the Clown and Fool.

• upon being told that Buggy identifies as a woman, he just rolls with it. He has to fight the trans urge to make "we traded genders" jokes, which he blames proximity to the clown for. He's not going to cause a ruckus about it. He will however cause bodily injury if someone else has an issue with that.

• he's absolutely livid, btw, that he finds the clown attractive like this. It's not the body, not exactly - Croc doesn't really care one way or another about the configuration downstairs of his partners - but he is attracted to intelligence, confidence, power, and how pretty someone is when they cry. Sue him, he has a type. It just so happens that Buggy, newly confident, newly steady, is branching out into all of his standards while staying so utterly charming. He's so mad about it. He wants to kiss her. He's going insane.

Mihawk

• he doesn't stick to labels. They're boring. He doesn't care. He will admit however that the majority of those who held his interest were men. The Clown was an exception - though not because of her gender. He's typically drawn to people by their Haki signatures, and he has noticed a common trend in those he enjoys - Shanks with his firey volcanic energy, Crocodile feeling akin to the desert lands he called home, even Roronoa Zoro's antiquated cliffside mountainous energy. He finds earthy energy to be the most comfortable, emotional aspect be damned. The Clown is very much a different element, liquid and mutable and dynamic. It is reflective, overtly bright and rippling uncontrollably. Odd, he admits, but not investing.

• it's when Buggy calms, when she blooms, that Migawk sees the ripples calm, sees the sharp reflections soothe themselves, and sees that the seemingly shallow pond of energy is but a cover which leads into a fathomless sinkhole. The shores are quaint, smooth, beautiful, and lead gradually further and further in towards a sharp drop which casts the Blues into blacks and the blacks into abyssal shade. It's strange, it's unusual, it's delicious.

• it especially helps that Mihawk finds Buggy to be rather good company. Without her forced shrill demeanor and loud hypervigilance, she's actually a wonderful conversationalist. He enjoys her company. It's unexpected.

More romantic aspects bc I am absolutely melting over it-

Cross guild

• Buggy has always been rather touchy-feely, something she constantly fights with because of her past and experiences. She adores cuddles, holding hands, casual touches, and the like. Her boyfriends aren't exactly the types to love PDA or to seek out physical touch. They do allow her to indulge, however, and they each have their preferred manners of doing so.

- Mihawk

- - in public, will pull a full chivalrous move, offering her his arm, his hand when she climbs up or down, a casual yet respectful hand on her waist to guide her.

- - in private, he will cuddle against her back when he is amenable to touch, chin over her shoulder as they both read a book, one arm wrapped around her waist, fingers caressing the soft skin of her soft sides, other hand tangled with one of her own. If not that, he will become a cat in human form, wordlessly smacking whatever was in her hands away to burrow into her stomach or chest, going limp yet clinging in a mess of contradictions. It never fails to earn a slightly annoyed snicker from her.

- Crocodile

- - in public, he and Mihawk seem to share a general demeanor insofar as the types of touches. He does however take it further by occasionally just plucking her up into his arm, treating her as a dainty little thing, casual touches peppered throughout that imply a level of possessiveness, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a drag of fingertips or hook along her shoulder, a curl of a hand at her hip.

- - in private, the touches come and go, but the emotion behind them remains. Sometimes he will simply trail fingers over her spine or shoulders, absent and affectionate. Sometimes he will drag her into the cage of him limbs to have and hold her close, a cheek pressed to her chest, hand cupping the other breast in a simple gesture.

BONUS REACTIONS

Luffy

• only thinks "uncle buggy -> auntie buggy"

• does not care, Buggy is Buggy.

• is happy that Buggy is happy!!!

• will throw hands if anyone is mean to his aunt, his hands are rated E for Everyone.

Rayleigh

• for a long time, didn't even know. Finds out by rumors in a random bar which he is Hella confused by and so fact checks. Has a mild moment when he realizes his baby boy is in fact a baby girl now. Wild. Decides to go see his daughter because What The Fuck Buglet

• no he doesn't cry when he sees Buggy. He just.... got sand in his eye. He did not get emotional when he saw his youngest child beam at him with a smile so like Roger's, in bold colors which suited her, so bright, so joyful, so free -

• he remembers the trembling, scrappy little being who would huddle between him and Roger after bad fights, so uncertain, so scared, so far removed from the young woman before him today, and Rayleigh just smiles, bonks her on the head and calls her princess.

• and if he pulls her aside later on and they sit together on the beach, drinking together, well.... when he says Roger would be so proud of her, he means it. And when she cries? Well. He won't tell anyone about it. It's a private moment between father and daughter.

[seeingivy]

HI RONNIE!!!! HOPE ALL IS WELL POOKIE!! i just have a suggestion for your gojo fics + ts songs if you haven’t done it already bc i havent rlly checked but gorgeous from reputation 😋😋😋

gorgeous

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: nothing much, just some good old thirsting for our favorite sorcerer

an: HELLO MY BELOVED BABIE POOKIE SWEETIE PIE FACE!!! of course I can do gorgeous (which this is actually the fourth time it's been requested for taylor as gojo so I had to do it as fast as I could) fun fact: this was one of my surprise songs when my older sister flew me out to see the eras tour in atlanta!!!!

--

The rosé is sweet as it trickles down your throat, immediately filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the center of your chest. 

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.” Nanami says, reaching to take the bottle from you. 

“And I’ve had the longest week of my life. Please mind your own business, Kento.” you respond, reaching for the bottle back from him. 

A measly tradition from when you were masters students together is now the only reason you’re making it to the end of the week. After a load of corporate bullshit for Nanami, insane work hours for Shoko, and the most disorganized elementary school in the metropolitan area for you, the three of you come together to bitch and get drunk. 

Let loose. And let loose really means let loose, because the bartender hates you so much that he has a picture of the three of you printed on the front door with a very menacing Do Not Enter sign next to it. 

“Hi Toji.” 

“I’m going to permanently ban you from this bar one day. And I’ll feel no remorse when I kick you out on your ass either.” 

“Toji, stop flirting with me or I’m going to fall in love with you.” 

Toji wrinkles his nose in disgust, looking borderline offended that you would even say such a thing, as he places three beers on the table. You shoot him a wink and he flips you off in response as he walks back to his spot behind the bar. 

“So what is that asshat doing?” Nanami asks. 

You turn your head to find Hiro, the stupid pathologist you’ve been dating for the past eight months, doing some type of…interpretive dance in the middle of the bar with a blonde girl. Interpretive dance is a nice word for twerking on each other. 

“Networking.” 

Shoko and Nanami nearly burst out laughing before pushing their bottles towards you, which you happily accept. 

“You win. What an absolute idiot.” 

You all laugh as you watch Hiro go on, matching disgusted faces plastered on the three of your faces as his arms become more uncoordinated with each changing beat. You turn your head to the side, swallowing down your disgust with Nanami’s beer and silently thanking the Ancient Sumerians for creating the aforementioned beer for you to drown your pity in.  

The door of the bar swings open behind you and Nanami and Shoko lift their hands up, giving a polite wave, before sinking back down into their chairs. You turn around to look at who they were waving at and feel your breath get tangled in your throat. 

Are you drunk? Yes. Are you a little bit delusional? Probably. Is this probably a result of the idiot you’ve been dating doing some type of weird, inappropriate bird mating call on the dance floor that’s more embarrassing for you than it is for him? For sure. 

But the human personification of beauty just walked into the smelly bar and you think you’ve fallen in love. In lust. In whatever you can have with this man, because he’s literally the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He’s tall, his defined arms peeking out through the white, buttoned collared shirt he’s wearing. His sleeves are pulled just past his forearms, because he’s a whore, putting the tiniest of veins on display and honestly, making you foam at the mouth. Not only is he built, not only is he fit but he literally has the face of a fucking angel. 

You’ve never understood that entire thing. Attraction at first sight. You need to sit down, get to know someone, before you can truly like them. And tonight, you stand corrected because there’s something magnetic about him. You can’t help but notice, can’t help but pay attention to him walking around the bar. 

You think it’s illegal. Because who the fuck walks into this dinky ass bar looking like that? Sparkly blue eyes, peeking from behind a pair of sunglasses, and perfectly tousled, snow white hair. Looks that could kill. Like literally kill, because your heart is beating so fast it’s going to explode.  

He walks past the door and takes a seat at the bar, leaning against the table to order his drink. And you’re sure your inhibitions are not present because of the bottle of wine and now four beers that you’ve downed, but you’re full on ogling him. 

Because your day, your week, your life can suck ass but you’ve grown enough to know that you should let yourself enjoy the little things in life. Which includes flagrantly gawking at this beautiful, beautiful stranger. 

“You’re staring.” 

You turn around to face Shoko and Nanami again, nearly twitching in your seat. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

“Satoru Gojo. He’s a medical malpractice lawyer, he helped out a co-worker of mine a few months ago.” responds Shoko, placing a fresh cigarette in between her teeth. 

“His firm is right across from my office. I see him on the train sometimes on the way to work.” says Nanami, leaning over to light Shoko’s stick. 

“Do you know the things I would do to that man?” 

“What?” 

“I need that man. Horrendously. Biblically. Like we’re Adam and Eve, creating something new. Who the fuck looks like that? Who the fuck walks into Toji’s disgusting ass bar looking like a Greek god? Like an angel descended from the heavens?” 

“Are we talking about the same guy?” Shoko asks, blowing the smoke out of her mouth. 

“Shut up. Don’t act like you don’t go goo goo ga ga over Utahime every time you see her at one of my work functions. This guy is my Utahime.”

“Y/N. Stop.” 

“Shut up Kento. One night with Satoru Gojo and I’d literally lose my fucking mind. Like freak shit - on the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter. Like you know that mind-blowing person you still think about when you’re a smelly, old senile person reliving your glory days when your husband cheats on you? That man under me would be MY glory days. He’s fucking gorgeous.” 

You feel a hand slide around your shoulder and the aforementioned gorgeous man is now sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your knee. He’s smiling, his eyes even more dazzling when they’re filled with the sincerity of a smile. 

“Gorgeous, huh?” he says, reaching forward to pinch your cheek. 

You stick your face in your hands as you move away from his burning touch.. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He leans forward to shake hands with Shoko and Nanami, exchanging pleasantries with them. The traitors. 

“Were you planning on telling me he was standing right behind me listening while I listed all the ways I would do him, Kento?” 

“What do you think ‘Y/N stop it’ means?” he responds. 

“No need to be ashamed, sweetheart. I think it’s really cute.” 

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to the other edge of the bench, drowning in your embarrassment as Kento and Shoko break into conversation with Gojo. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“Hey babe. Are you ready to leave?” 

Hiro’s now standing at the side of the table, sweat dripping down the side of his face, as he gestures for you to stand up. And now it’s even more embarrassing, because Gojo looks way too excited to be meeting Hiro right now. 

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Satoru Gojo.” 

“Hiro. I’m dating Y/N.” 

Satoru looks over, smirking at you, before he leans back - and sends your head into a tizzy in the process because who the hell looks attractive smirking like that. 

“Congratulations. You must be really happy together. Life changing.” he says. 

You can feel your cheeks burning. He’s teasing you. You just admitted all the things you would do to him out loud, about how one night with him would change your life, and not only did he hear but now he’s sticking it to your boyfriend too. 

You push past him in the booth, give Shoko and Nanami a halfhearted smile, before you drag Hiro out of the bar with you. 

--

You sit against the pavement, bumping knees with Itadori, as you both eye the empty parking lot in front of you. 

“I’m really sorry. My grandpa should actually be here any minute.” 

You look over at him, his pink hair tousled messily and the way he’s nervously fidgeting with the strings of his yellow hoodie. You give him a smile, knowing all too well the embarrassment of being the last kid picked up from school. Patiently waiting for someone to remember to pick you up. 

“Are you enjoying the third grade, Itadori?” 

“Yeah. I made a few friends recently which is nice.” 

“That’s always fun, kid. I’m glad you’re situating okay. Do you like the area?” 

“I kind of miss my old house. But it’s nice to spend time with my grandpa.” 

You feel your heart ache as you remember the little file they sent over, the written note from your principal pressed on top. That his parents passed away just before the start of the school year and his grandfather, one of his only living family members, wasn’t doing too well either. 

“Do you like your teacher?” 

He looks over, a shy smile on his face. 

“She’s okay.” 

You smile, reaching forward to mess with her hair. 

“Just okay? I think I’m pretty cool.” 

“Eh.” 

You reach into your pocket for the lollipop you swiped from your stash and hold it out in front of him. You watch his face light up, his excited little hands ripping the paper off. 

“Am I cool yet, Itadori?” 

“Freezing.” 

You smile, giving his shoulder a squeeze as a black car pulls up, stopping right in front of you. And out comes Satoru Gojo, in all his beauty, and one of your other students, Megumi Fushiguro. 

Megumi runs straight up to Itadori, holding out his hand, as he starts dragging him to the car. You stand up, awkwardly brushing your palms against your pencil skirt as Satoru walks up to you, a smirk on his face. 

And what the fuck is he doing here?

“Hi.” 

“Hello. Are you here to pick up Itadori?” 

“Sure am, pretty girl. Have a note from his grandpa, he’s not really feeling well.” 

You nod, ignoring the tingle in your hands as he brushes his fingers against yours to hand you the note. You pretend to read the note as you try to calm your breaths and look back up at him. 

Ocean blue eyes, staring into yours. 

“Perfect. Well, you’re good to go.” 

Satoru gives you a look before bending down to Itadori and Megumi’s heights, giving them the keys to the car and full access to playing with his stereo system. They both excitedly run into the car, leaving you and Satoru outside the school. 

“Are you not leaving?” 

“I thought we could chat for a bit.” 

You clench your fists as he takes Itadori’s seat on the pavement and gestures for you to sit next to him. You both eye Megumi and Itadori in the car, the two of them now sticking their faces too close to the air conditioning vents and manically laughing at how poofed up their hair is getting. 

“How are you?” 

“Satoru Gojo. Are you really making me sit here on the pavement to ask me how I am?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Well. I already know a lot about you. Your name, your occupation, how you feel about me. I feel like we skipped a few steps so we should backtrack. I didn’t even know you were my kids' teacher till about three seconds ago.” he says, smirking over at you. 

“Excuse me. How I feel about you?” 

“Oh, you know. On the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter.” he responds, his voice all sing-songy. 

“Isn’t your wife waiting for you at home?” 

You can feel the jealousy seething in you already, because you know his answer. Because there is no universe where this man does not have a girlfriend already. The best ones are already taken. He leans closer, pinching your cheek in response. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I think the whole my kid’s elementary school teacher cheating affair is cliche, Satoru. Dare I say, even more cliche than the nanny.” 

“But not as cliche as the secretary.” 

“Oh, of course not. That’s the holy grail of cliche cheating affairs.” 

He laughs, leaning back on his forearms as you both fall into the silence. Stupid, fucking gorgeous funny charismatic looking-

“No wife for me fortunately. Or girlfriend either.” 

That’s somehow worse. Because if he had a girlfriend, you could be jealous of her. Put her face on a cardboard box and kick it off a cliff. But he’s single. And now he’s just something you want but can’t have. Entirely attainable but not in your reach. 

Also known as, frustrating as hell. 

“Shame. I’m sure girls are lining up at the door to experience the joys of dating you.” 

“And you’re first in line, sweetheart.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as he stands up, the tension so unbearable you can feel it eating at you alive. He holds his hand out, that little tingle running through you again, as he helps you up, now dragging Megumi and Itadori out of the front seats. You give the three of them a smile, your blood burning, as they drive away. 

He sends you a gift the next day. A donation of classroom supplies you had been egregiously emailing all the parents about and a handwritten note. 

the start of a cliche <3 - satoru 

You try to wipe the smile off your face. The fluttering in your chest. The presence of him in your dreams and in your mind at all times. 

Suddenly, you’re seventeen again and you remember the biggest woes of your teenage life. 

The ups and downs of having a crush on someone. 

--

You clench the bowl of pudding in your hands as you ring the doorbell, which sprouts a large amount of commotion and noise behind the door. You give your hair one last pat down, after fretting over it for six hours in the mirror, as the door swings open. 

You’re met with Satoru Gojo and a pink apron hanging around his neck. 

“Nice outfit, Gojo. Can I try it on sometime?” 

“I’ll take it off and give you a show right now, sweetheart.” 

You feel your cheeks blazing as he drags you in, his warm hands taking the bowl from yours. You can hear thumping upstairs, which you’re sure is Megumi, Itadori, and Kugisaki making a mess of Gojo’s apartment. 

You follow him to the kitchen, taking a quick moment to totally check him out, before you make it to his mess of a birthday cake.

“There’s no way you’re going to actually give them that, are you?” 

“What’s wrong with it? It’s homemade. It has that Satoru charm.” 

“More like a stinky charm. What is that smell?” 

“The dishes. I need to do them because they’re kind of sticking to the pans. From this downright radioactive cake I just made.” 

You shoo him away, taking on the duty of properly making something out of the ruins of the "cake" Satoru had spread on his counter. From your vantage point, he has his back turned to you, which gives you full permission to ogle him once again. 

You realize that this is creepy. That no part of this is romantic and that he only invited you to Itadori’s little birthday party because you’re one of five people he actually knows in this city. But god is your heart beaming at the fact that the two of you are like this, together and alone. 

You’re mixing the frosting, a perfect light pink to match Itadori’s hair, and all you can think about is how good Satoru looks in a kitchen. In that run down t-shirt and sweatpants. Being all domestic. 

The way his arms look when he’s washing the dishes, how he looks when he puts things back into the fridge - his arm flexed against the handle. How reaching for the top cupboards makes the end of his shirt lift a little and you can see that muscled skin on his back. 

“I’m sure that the frosting is mixed by now. You’ve been going really hard at it.” 

You feel your face burn as you fill the piping bag, entirely embarrassed that he caught you staring. He makes his way over as you fill up the bags, the two of you frosting the entire sides of the cake together. At the end, you and Satoru take turns frosting the letters - the happy birthday in Satoru’s messy block printing and the itadori in your swirly cursive. 

He gives you a smile and it makes your heart all lopsided as he walks away. He goes toward the stairs, gesturing for all three of them to come down. 

You hear three pounding footsteps and then are bombarded with all three of them hugging you, pleasantly surprised at your arrival. 

“Are you here for my birthday?” 

“I sure am, birthday boy. I even brought you a gift, Itadori.” you respond, pinching his little cheek. 

He leans into your touch, giving you a hard hug before he lets go to run towards the kitchen. Gojo’s too busy strapping little birthday hats onto Nobara and Megumi's head as the two of you walk in, Satoru you a gleaming smile as he carries the last two hats over to you. 

“Purple or blue? Your pick, milady.” 

You point at the blue party hat which Gojo smiles at, before he lifts his hands to your face and secures the hat around your head. Some part of your hair gets tangled with the string, which Gojo fixes with the swiftness of his hands, immediately securing your hair back behind your ear. 

You could die happy then and there. 

He gives you a smile before turning back to Itadori - tickling him and screaming singing happy birthday into his ears, making the kid laugh so hard he’s crying out of his eyes. 

And you hate Satoru for inviting you. Surely he must know that something like this would only make you like him more. 

--

You turn your neck, just at the slightest angle, to get sight of him in your periphery. Keeping an eye on him is the only way to keep him at arm's length. And you’ve successfully avoided him three times now. 

More dressed down than the past few times you’ve seen him, Satoru is wearing a run down t-shirt and five inch inseam shorts - and he’s very excitedly chatting up Utahime and Nanami. You may be seeing things, but you swear he inches closer every time you move, the majority of his frame always turned to whichever direction you're standing in. 

Shoko starts poking your cheek aggressively to catch your attention, her face a few feet away from yours. 

“You know if you look from the side, it’s still considered staring.” she says. 

“Shut up. You’re acting like you weren’t staring either, Shoko.” 

“Staring at who?” 

You turn around to find the person attached to the voice and immediately walk away. Of course it was fucking Gojo. 

Even the sound of his voice is enough to make your heart race, like you're a six year old girl meeting your crush on the swings. You immediately race to Shoko’s bedroom, for a few seconds to calm yourself down. Sober up before you say something embarrassing again. 

When you make it to her room, you haphazardly shut the door behind you and fall face first into Shoko’s bed. You can still smell the laundry on her sheets, perfectly starched and fitted to perfection. You yank your phone out from your back pocket, quickly sliding through emails and making mental notes for your to-do list tomorrow to distract yourself. 

You hear the door open and close behind you, the tiny lock clicking against the frame. You turn around to find Satoru standing before you, his hands crossed against his chest. 

“Why do you hate me?” 

You frown, taken aback by his question. 

“What?” 

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve made every effort to be your friend, to be your anything and you keep ignoring me.” 

“When the hell did I ignore you?” 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. Every time I walk up to a group you’re standing in, you walk away.” 

“That’s not intentional, I-” 

“I sent you everything on your wishlist for your classroom. For your students, because you wanted it really badly.” 

“And I appreciate that, I really do and-” 

“You didn’t even stop by to thank me. I’ve been picking up Megumi everyday waiting for you to come out.” 

“Thank you. Really, it’s made such a big difference and I’ve-” 

“Why don't you want to be friends with me?” 

You can feel the anger, the tension, the goddamn jumbled mess of feelings this idiot makes you feel bubbling out of your mouth as you start screaming at him, at the goddamn idiocy falling out of his mouth right now. 

“That's just the fucking problem. I don't want to be friends with you because I want to be more. You should take it as a compliment that I went out of my way to talk to everyone here but you. That I like you so much that I can’t stand to even be near you without telling you.” 

You can see the shock spread across his face as you keep rambling, the words stringing out of your mouth. 

“I don’t not talk to you on purpose. But every time I look at you, I can’t say anything to your face. You-you’re just-” 

“Just what?” 

“You make me so happy it’s ridiculous. You could smile at me and I’d be on the floor, giggling in my bed like I’m a twelve year old. You’re- your banter leaves me blushing, your smile makes my heart beat so fast, and you make me so happy that it makes me sad I can’t have you. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you for the literal second time now so can I please just leave before you humiliate me some more?"  

You can feel your chest heaving, a very wide eyed Gojo staring back at you with a smile on his face. You make your move to run past him, to literally avoid this guy for the rest of your life, but he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back so you’re leaning into his chest. 

"Leave me alone. I'll probably just go die alone at home with my cats now."

“It's my turn to talk now.” he says, his voice low.

“What?” 

“It's my turn to talk. You’ve gotten to ramble about how you feel twice and you have yet to let me do it even once.” he deadpans, cupping your face in the side of his hand. 

You nod, your cheek searing from his warm hand on your skin. 

“You think I’m gorgeous. But I think you’re irresistible.” 

“Huh?” 

“You. are. irresistible. Every time I see you, every time I even hear about you, it makes my heart bloom in my chest. Remember that smiley face you put in the email about Megumi’s grades? I literally had to bite down on my hand to avoid fucking screaming about the entire thing. That one time you smiled at me from across the hall when I went to pick Tsumiki up from her class? I was on the fucking floor.” 

He brings his other hand up, securing it around your neck to angle your face up. His eyes are burning with something you can’t place and it’s making your stomach swarm with an array of butterflies. 

“And the first night I met you. Your little grumpy face with your hands curled around two bottles of beer. Giggling with Shoko and Nanami, laughing so hard you were crying. You are so, so goddamn cute, so fucking beautiful that I just had to walk over. To have your eyes looking in mine, even if it was just once.” 

He leans down, pressing his lips against yours, as you nearly melt into his arms, losing the agency you had over your footing. He must sense it because he immediately brings his hands down, lifting you up from your waist so you’re even closer to his mouth, his lips deepening the kiss. He breaks apart, whispering against your mouth.

“I’d like to meet your cats.” 

“What cats?” 

“You literally just said you were going to do die at home alone with your cats."

"Oh. Right. I live alone, that was kind of just an expression."

"S'okay. You've always had a flair for the dramatics."

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog  @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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Untitled 2 — Marcmarc

Logically speaking, it doesn't make much sense. Marc is literally his boyfriend.

But there's still that nagging voice, that feeling in his stomach that has persisted since the time he was old enough to know about the pleasures that come with touching oneself. There's that desperate need for self preservation. There's still that guilt.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” Marco says, trying his best not to sound suspicious as he stands from the living room couch.

Marc playfully kicks at the back of Marco's shin as he passes in front of him. “Want me to pause it?” he asks.

Marco shakes his head. “Nah, I think that ice cream I had earlier is catching up to me. I might be gone for a while.”

Marc makes a funny face. “Gross.”

Marco forces a laugh before he's down the hall, locking himself in the bathroom.

Marc's has always been attractive, that's a fact that's completely undeniable. Marco isn't even usually a love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he remembers the very moment he first laid eyes on Marc. Not to be dramatic, but the feeling could only be akin to staring directly at a sun parting gray clouds. Or maybe the feeling of finally surfacing from beneath an oppressive wave in the deep ocean. After dating for a year and a half, and now finally living together, one might think the shattering infatuation would eventually simmer down. But it's been quite the opposite if one were to ask Marco how he feels about the whole ordeal. If anything, the infatuation has become worse.

The guilt burns beneath his skin as he loosens the drawstring of his shorts, pushing the waistband down to his mid-thighs. He can still hear the muffled sounds of the corny action flick playing in the background. Good, Marco thinks, it'll serve as the perfect distraction.

Marco knows feeling horny is normal. It's taken a good amount of years to rewire his brain in terms of not feeling completely guilty about wanting to touch himself. But his history with the church obviously must still have some form of hold over him, because he still can't bring himself to tell Marc about when he gets this way. Or rather, all the times he gets this way. Which seems to be damn near every day at this point.

Being horny for your boyfriend when you live apart is one thing. But living under the same roof has Marco feeling like his skin is constantly on fire. All thoughts that consume his mind is just how badly he wants Marc's hands on him, everywhere, at all times of day. Is he becoming some sick sex addict? Or maybe it's his brain making up for all the years of being sexually stunted. Whatever the case, he just can't bring himself to tell Marc about every single time he has sexually depraved thoughts about the man. So he makes up for it like this, hiding in the bathroom to get himself off.

He bites the hem of his shirt to keep himself quiet as he slips two fingers inside. He's already so wet that he doesn't need to wait. It's quite pathetic, actually, the way this has become so easy for him.

He closes his eyes and imagines that it's Marc's fingers stretching him full. He imagines that it's Marc's thumb grazing his clit, driving him insane.

He moans quietly around the hem of his t-shirt, spit beginning to soak the fabric as he desperately rolls his hips to the image in his mind.

And on the other side of the bathroom door, just a few feet away is Marc, none the wiser, dressed in a simple pair of loose-fitting shorts and a white tank top. The outfit had been so unassuming, something completely normal to wear on a hot summer day. Yet here Marco is fingering himself in the guest bathroom of their shared apartment because he can't get his brain to stop thinking like a horny teenager.

He picks up the pace, adjusting his stance as he plunges his fingers into his drooling cunt. He pictures Marc fucking him from behind, he can almost feel Marc's hands gripping against his waist, and the tickle of Marc's stubble against the back of his neck.

He should probably just walk out of the bathroom and let Marc know he wants his dick right now. But how ridiculous would that sound?

“Hey, Marc. I know we're in the middle of watching cars explode and bad guys getting their heads blown off, but I'm really turned on right now. Let's fuck.”

No way, there has to be some level of decorum.

When he finally cums a few minutes later, the post-nut clarity is enough to humiliate him even without the haunting echoes of some past preacher going on about the sanctity of sex. Yikes.

It's gotten bad. It's gotten really bad. They're in the middle of having dinner with Marc's parents when the sudden need overcomes him again. It's ridiculous, really. Not a single thing about the situation is sexy in the slightest, but Marc's parents are going on about the antics Marc would get himself into when he was a teenager and suddenly Marco has this deep feeling of 'wow, this is the man I'm in love with and I'm learning about this part of him that existed before I knew him and I really want to keep him in my life and I really need him inside of me.'

That's the thought that has Marco awkwardly excusing himself to the bathroom, yet again.

He closes the door quickly, doubly making sure the door is locked behind him before he's fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

He doesn't even need to slide his fingers inside this time, that's how bothered he is. He coats his fingers good and well with saliva before rubbing against his clit in fast circular motions, mindful of the noises he makes.

If God hasn't judged him before, He's for sure judging him now. Your boyfriend's parents are down the hall and you can't keep yourself together for just one night?

He cums ridiculously fast to the point that it almost startles him, leaking over the palm of his hand and into the lining of his briefs. He can only laugh at himself when he struggles to quickly wipe the cum from the fabric of his clothes.

When he finally flushes the toilet paper and washes his hands as thoroughly as he can, he can only hope the timing of it all hadn't been too suspicious.

He should've anticipated this. Four months of living under the same roof, he was bound to eventually get caught.

The thing is, neither of them are really that fond of the kitchen. As much as it strains their wallets, eating out is usually the go-to. Especially when they're both exhausted from long days of work.

But for whatever reason, today Marc had wanted to pretend he was some gourmet chef cooking up the finest steak meal he could muster. And really, who was Marco to say no? It's not like he was any good in the kitchen.

He'd been watching Marc throw down from the bar of their kitchen counter, and there had just been something about the image of it all – the concentration set between Marc's brows, the flex of his arms under his black tee, the way his fingers moved with a sense of skill that Marco just never could gather when it came to cooking – it was all too much. Something primal pooled in Marc's stomach, a flame flickering beneath his skin. A sense of deep possession overcame him. My man, my man, he's really all mine.

But Marc was setting the plates after so much work that he'd put in. And Marco wasn't going to make this nasty. At least not in front of the man.

“I'll be right back,” Marc said.

Before Marc could ask where he's going, Marco was already down the hall, locking the bathroom door behind himself.

He really couldn't get his pants down fast enough. His fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, struggling to pull it free of the loop. When he finally managed to get his pants down to his ankles, he awkwardly stumbled out of them, nearly tripping as he kneeled down to reach beneath the cabinet sink in search of something secret he'd hidden there about a week ago.

He found it right where he'd stashed it, behind a basket of spare toilet paper and tucked between miscellaneous cleaners. It was packed in a small box, small enough to blend in with the bathroom supplies and go unnoticed by his boyfriend in the event that he'd ever go exploring for something beneath their guest bathroom sink.

The hidden item in question? A vibrator.

Yes, that's how ridiculous this has gotten. Like some sort of nicotine fiend who hides their pack of smokes behind a windowsill so as not to get caught by their parents, Marco is hiding his vibrator.

It's pretty unassuming, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand with a satisfactory, pink bulbous head. He rinsed it off quickly before putting it to his mouth to generously coat the thing with saliva.

When it was soaked well enough, he wasted no time bringing it to his pussy, spreading his legs and sliding the head of the vibrator between his slit. His cunt was already clenching, wetting itself from the contact of the vibrator, and Marco could only imagine it as Marc's cock that got him this way. He closed his eyes, breath growing deep and rapid as he worked to get himself off quickly, pushing the vibrator through his folds and teasing against his clit.

Heat coiled in his stomach. His thighs shook as he balanced himself, leaning back against the sink. When he finally pushed the vibrator inside, he pictured Marc sliding into him. He pictured Marc fucking him on the kitchen counter, not caring to knock over the delicious meal he'd just slaved away making. He pictured Marc kissing him hungrily, one fist tight in his hair and the other gripping Marco's thigh, holding him open and taking whatever he needed from Marco regardless of how prepared Marco was for the size of his cock.

Marco gasped, trying his best to stay quiet as he rolled his hips, plunging the vibrator into himself at a fast, even pace.

He felt himself getting so close already. So close to reaching the edge that he began to feel dizzy. He sunk down further, widening his legs even more. The angle allowed the toy to push into him further, not as deep as he knew Marc could get but deep enough to have Marco's stomach tightening in pleasure nonetheless.

“Marc,” he cried, head leaning back and knocking against the sink's cabinet door. He was far too lost to even care.

He pressed the vibrator all the way in, to the hilt. With his thumb, he found the switch to turn it on, setting it to a medium speed and holding it there, pressing it up at an angle that set his nerves on fire. With his free hand, he drew lazy circles against his clit, making his jaw drop in a silent moan.

This was it, he was really nearing his end now. He imagined Marc ruining him on the counter. He imagined Marc's thick fingers working over his clit, making Marco's cunt drool over the linoleum and pool onto the wood flooring beneath them.

“Like that?” Marc would ask, voice tight and strained with pleasure.

“Yes, yes... fuck. Right there, perfect. Right there!”

Marco's walls tightened, his head swam with pleasure. His thumb slides the vibrator up to high, and he's right there, right on the edge. So close. So, so close. And–

Presently, a loud thud bangs against the bathroom wall.

Marco's eyes shoot open to find the bathroom door wide open and Marc standing before him, eyes blown wide in shock. Marco yelps in embarrassment, almost crying as he quickly pulls his legs shut. The vibrator slips from his cunt, falling heavy to the bathroom floor and tumbling across the dark wood towards Marc's feet.

“Marc!” The fear has Marco speaking before his brain can catch up to what's happening.

He'd been caught. How could he have forgotten to lock the bathroom door? That was so damn stupid.

“Shit, sorry,” Marc stutters. He steps back awkwardly. “I thought– I heard you making noises. Sorry, I thought you were hurt in here or…”

Marco stands up fully on shaking legs, trying to step back into his pants. Slick is dribbling down his inner thighs but he feels far too humiliated to do anything about how uncomfortable it feels. The vibrator is still buzzing at Marc's feet. Marc's face looks pale.

So this is how it ends, huh? Marc finding out that his boyfriend has become nothing but a sex addict who can't keep himself in check long enough to even have a simple dinner? God had warned about lust, the potential ruin it could have on people's lives. Marco had tried to put that all behind himself, but maybe he was finally facing his damnation.

“I'm sorry,” Marco cries.

He makes for the door, ready to run off and hide himself in their bedroom because, really, he doesn't think he can face this right now. But before he can get past Marc's position outside the bathroom door, Marc's hand is grabbing him and holding him in place.

“Woah, hold up,” Marc says.

And thankfully, he doesn't sound angry. Despite the wave of prickly heat beneath Marco's skin, he can at least feel okay that Marc doesn't seem upset. But is the look of confusion he holds on his face completely better?

“What's this all about?” Marc asks. He picks the vibe off the floor. Marco cringes internally as the thing keeps buzzing resiliently, covered in the sheen of his slick.

“I'm–” Truthfully, Marco isn't even sure what to say.

“Your cooking made me horny,” didn't exactly sound like a reasonable answer.

“I didn't know you were into toys. Were you hiding this from me? I wouldn't judge, you know?”

Oh, that's what he thinks this is about? Hiding toys?

To be fair, Marc has never used toys with him in the bedroom before. Most of their sex has been pretty vanilla, and really it's never bothered Marco. Quite the opposite, even. Marc has always made him feel good. And that's the issue. Maybe it's all too good. Too good to the point that all his body craves is sex. It was almost terrifying when Marco finally ordered that vibrator online after having it sit in his cart for weeks debating on buying it. And the fact that he'd had the package delivered to his personal P.O. Box instead of letting it show up at their apartment's doorstep? It's gotta be considered some level of deranged at this point.

Marco stammers, “No, it's not the toy… it's me.”

He takes the vibrator from Marc's hand, wondering if maybe he should just throw the thing away.

“What do you mean?” Marc asks. “Are you okay?”

Marco is silent as he turns back to the bathroom sink. The vibrator's box is sitting on the counter, open and mocking. Marco fumbles to put the toy back inside.

“Marco, what's going on?”

Marc places a hand over Marco's. It stays there, and Marco isn't sure if he should run or stay still until Marc lets him go.

“Talk to me,” Marc says, voice soothing. “If somethings wrong, let me help you. I'm just kind of lost here.”

“I'm really sorry,” Marco apologizes yet again, to Marc, to himself. The whole situation makes Marco feel dizzy and off kilter.

Marc looks at him, eyes softening. He slides the box from Marco's grip, placing it gently on the bathroom counter. He takes a step closer to Marco, still holding his hand.

“What are you saying sorry for?” Marc asks. “Seriously, what's going on?”

Marco takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. If this is going to be his demise, he may as well get it over with now. "I... I can't stop thinking about you. About us. All the time.” Marco sinks down to the floor, legs nearly giving out from the anxiety of it all.

“What do you mean?” Marc lowers after him.

“I don't know, it's like I'm constantly on fire, and I feel so guilty about it. I guess I grew up being told that these feelings were wrong, and now... living with you... constantly feeling turned on, it's overwhelming."

Marc's expression softens even more as he listens. “You're saying you feel guilty about sex?” He asks.

Marco rakes a nervous hand through his sweaty curls, feeling frustrated at how ridiculous it sounds to hear himself say all of this out loud.

“Yes… and no. Not exactly about sex. I guess, the constant need for it? Like, it just feels wrong,” he tries to explain, but even he feels like it makes very little sense.

Marc pulls Marco into a gentle hug, holding him close. "Marco, it's okay to want to have sex. We're together, I think it's natural to have feelings like that. I mean, trust me,” Marc laughs. “I think about having sex with you too. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. And I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. Ever."

Marco leans against Marc's shoulder, feeling the weight of his guilt start to lift, slightly.

"Sorry,” Marco mutters. “I guess I'm just scared you'll think I'm some kind of sex addict or... or that you'll get tired of me."

Marc pulls back slightly, just enough to look into Marco's eyes. "I love you, Marco. All of you. I promise if there's anything that's upsetting you, I want to work through it together. And I hope you'd want the same for me too, right? We shouldn't hide things like this from each other.”

Marco stays silent for a moment, taking in what Marc has to say. It should be that simple. Maybe he's overthinking it. If Marc had come to him with a “Hey, Marco, I constantly think about you when I jack off,” Marco knows wouldn't have judged Marc for it, so why is it so hard to give himself the same level of grace?

He lets out a shuddered breath, trying to get the tightness in his chest to go away completely. With Marc's hand in his, it helps.

“Thank you, Marc. I love you too.”

“Of course.” Marco slightly nudges Marco's rib with his elbow, his face easing into a smile. “I mean, how could you resist someone as cool and sexy as me?”

Marco laughs, pulling his hand from Marc'd to playfully swat at him. “Shut up,” he says, not an ounce of malice in his voice.

Marc pulls him closer again, kissing his cheek before standing, holding out a hand to help Marco up off the bathroom floor. “I guess the dinner I made is going to have to go cold for a while,” he says.

He grabs the vibrator box from the counter, turning the thing in his hand as looks over the label.

“What do you mean?” Marco asks.

Marc looks at him with a mischievous grin. “Well, aren't you interested in finishing up what you started here?”

Oh!

It takes Marc's fingers only a few strokes to get Marco ready again. And Marco, who's still grossly wet from previous endeavors, has very little time to feel embarrassed about it before Marc's tongue is already where he needs it most.

“Oh my god,” Marco gasps, head lolling back against the pillow beneath him.

His hand finds the crown of Marc's head, gripping tight in his hair to ground himself as he angles his hips upwards. His breath goes shaky as Marc's tongue teases at his entrance, dipping in only slightly, enough to have Marco's hole drooling in anticipation.

“Please,” Marco begs.

Marc squeezes his clit gently, catching it again and again as Marco's body trembles with oversensitivity. When Marc's tongue slides up to warm his clit, Marco's body is reacting all on its own, fist clenching in Marc's hair and knee jerking up against his side. Marc groans into his cunt, using one hand to push Marco's leg aside and hold him open at full display.

“Sorry,” Marco breathes.

Marc hums in return, the heat of his breath melting Marco to his core. It's moments like this when Marco really feels insane, letting go of all his convictions and letting Marc take control of his body. It's nice to let his mind slip, muddled in a fog of pleasure. It makes him feel hot all over and wonderfully weightless.

“Feels good,” Marco says, shutting his eyes.

Marc's lips wrap around his clit, sucking softly and kissing against it, longingly and desperately like it's his long-lost lover. It brings tears to Marco's eyes. He feels them rolling down his cheeks, but he's too lost in how good it all feels to wipe them away.

Marco loses the ability to control his moans completely when Marc's fingers push inside. He works them expertly, sliding them with a satisfying ease from Marco's wetness. The vibrator had felt great, but this feeling is unmatched. The way Marc eats him is akin to devout worship. Marvo can feel him in a way that a toy couldn't replicate, fingers crooked in at just the right angle, exactly where Marco needs them to be.

Marco bites his lip, trying to control himself not to come too quickly, but he doesn't really have to because Marc knows him all too well. As Marco nearly reaches his climax, Marc's tongue slightly pulls away, lapping against Marco's clit at a slower pace. Unhurriedly, like he has all the time in the world.

Marco finally swallows the spit that had built up, opening his eyes to protest, meeting Marc's heated gaze from between his thighs.

“Don't tease me,” Marco begs.

Marc fully pulls away with a grin. “Oh, don't like that?”

“Not when I'm so close.”

Marc licks his lips before moving up to sit on his knees. From this angle, Marco can see just how hard Marc is. The full mast of his cock standing at attention making Marco's cunt throbs at the image.

“Marc, I really need you inside,” Marco says.

Possession overcomes him again, that same feeling he had watching Marc cook for him in the kitchen earlier. He pulls Marc into a kiss, uncoordinated and full of teeth. Marc moans into his mouth, gripping Marco's waist to pull him down and flip them over.

Marco renegotiates himself, pushing his legs up to straddle Marc's waist as their mouths move together hungrily. Marco doesn't even care that he can hardly breathe.

Marc's cock slides against Marco's ass, streaking his skin in wet, sticky precum. He wiggles his hips, pushing his ass against Marc's stiffness, finding satisfaction in the way Marc seems to be losing it too, his breath becoming more labored, mouth falling open and saliva spilling down his chin.

“Now you're the one teasing me,” Marc murmurs.

Marco smiles against Marc's lips, but doesn't break their sloppy kiss.

Marc's hands slide down his sides. He grips Marco's ass, kneading harshly into the meat of it, holding Marco in place as he adjusts his hips. His cock slides between Marco's cheeks as he cants his hips upwards, in long fluid strokes. Then he's lifting Marco up higher before settling him down over his cock slowly, pushing himself up to breach Marco's hole.

The fit of it has Marco groaning, drooling over Marc's lips.

“Fuck, you're not wearing a condom,” Marco notes, but doesn't make a move to stop anything from going forward.

Marc forces Marco down to the base, where they finally become fully connected. They both pant in unison, unmoving. Giving themselves a moment to adjust to their new position.

Marco sits up, balancing himself by placing his hands on Marc's chest. Marc's cheeks are flushed red and he has this misty, half-lidded gaze that's got Marco feeling butterflies deep in his stomach. Along with Marc's dick.

“You're so beautiful,” Marco says.

Marc's lips ease into a grin and he laughs, reaching up to cup Marco's face. “You're one to talk, sweet boy,” he says, low and breathless.

Marco pulls Marc's hand away from his cheek to kiss the inside of his palm.

“I love you,” Marco says.

“C'mere.”

Marc pulls him down to bring their lips together again, and this time it's less rushed. A soft peck leading into a nice, languid kiss. Marc's hand slides up to the nape of Marco's neck, guiding Marco deeper into the kiss. It makes Marco's thoughts slow. Marc hums softly when Marco nibbles at his lower lip.

Slowly, Marco begins rocking himself in Marc's lap, rolling his hips and lightly lifting himself on Marc's cock. He feels so full this way, he almost wishes Marc could stay inside of him like this forever.

Marc grips Marco's waist with both hands to help him balance, allowing Marco to take what he wants.

Marco sits up, leaning his head back to give himself more leverage to fully move his hips. He rises higher, beginning to ease into a faster pace. And Marc watches him ride, eyes soft with affection.

Heat coils in Marco's lower abdomen, and he feels his cunt tighten around Marc's cock inside of him. The heat spreads over him, then through his limbs. It's like his body is melting all at once.

“Ah– ahh,” Marco moans, bringing his fingers to his clit as he rocks himself in Marc's lap.

“That's it, baby,” Marc says. His hand slides up to thumb against Marco's pierced nipple, rolling the bud and metal beneath his fingertip. “Keep going like that. You feel so good.”

The speed increases, the wet between them becomes disgustingly loud. The room becomes hot with the labor of their panting bodies, moving in tandem, skin slapping against skin.

“God, I'm so close,” Marco gasps, closing his eyes and massaging his clit faster.

“Cum for me. You're so pretty, baby. Make yourself cum on my cock,” Marc says, voice sending a pleasant wave of heat though Marco's tired muscles.

The heat makes Marco's cunt tighten then relax as a wave of intense, white pleasure washes through him. He chokes through a sob on his release, thighs trembling and nearly giving out.

“Marc, Fuck,” he cries, body going rigid as he finally cums.

Marc fucks into him, fast, chasing his own orgasm soon after. The heat of Marc's cum fills him and it's the first time in a long while that he and Marc have fucked without a condom. The feeling of being coated on the inside with Marc's fluids makes Marco feel wonderfully euphoric. He sighs happily, riding out the rest of Marc's orgasm before he falls forward against Marc's chest. He buries his face against Marco's neck, kissing there and rolling his hips lazily to milk Marc's cock for all he can.

After a while, Marc's moans turn into overstimulated grunts.

“Fuck, that's enough, baby” Marc breathes, rolling them over and letting his cock slide from Marco's hole.

He feels Marc's cum spilling between his legs, soaking the sheets beneath them. It's not exactly comfortable, but Marc's lips are on his again and that's enough of a distraction.

Their kissing goes on and on until Marco is genuinely feeling lightheaded, like he just might pass out. He pulls away with an airy laugh, cupping Marc's cheek to look at him.

Marc looks just as fucked out as Marco feels, but he too has a smile on his face.

“What's so funny?” Marc asks.

“Nothing,” Marco says. “I just remembered our food is going cold.”

[fairer-tales]

In Memoriam Headcanons!!

cus i’m still insane about them and want nothing but happiness for our boys

~spoilers for the book ahead-

• In Brazil, Gaunt and Ellwood almost always wear coordinating ties and handkerchiefs (either wearing the same pattern in different colours, or vice versa, or by swapping so that one has the kerchief to go with the others tie)

• Gaunt tried to write a poem about Ellwood once. He got four lines in and got embarrassed with himself and went to box instead. he left the page in her desk drawer and never found it again.

• Contrary to popular belief, Gaunt is a riot at embassy events in Brazil (when he actually joins in conversation). He just makes blunt, usually unwittingly witty comments that make the tipsy embassy blokes roar with laughter (that tism humour fr).

• Ellwood loves to host. in the beginning, it’s to fill the void of living in brazil and the aftermath of the war, but he finds that he really enjoys it. utter peacock.

• Ellwood loves the flowers in Brazil, but he can’t often find some of ones that align with the victorian flower language. So, he invents a new flower language just for him and Gaunt.

• Ellwood, ever spiteful, used to step on the toes of young women who flirted with Gaunt at balls when it was his turn to dance with them. Despite how much it pained him to risk damaging his reputation as an excellent dancer.

• They used to have snowball fights at Thornycrpft when they spent Christmas hols there together.

• Gaunt rarely speaks german, but when he’s particularly drunk, he starts whispering german terms of endearment into Ellwood’s ear. Ellwood doesn’t have a clue what he’s saying but he’s not complaining.

• Having baths together (partly as an inside joke, partly cus <3 )

• I’m sure they would have a pet, but can decide on what animal. i can picture ellwood getting an exotic bird for parlour tricks when he’s hosting, giving it an eccentric name (like Benedict or Florian) but actually getting super attached. Or, Gaunt having a realy pampered cat (probably a white long haired breed). ORRR Gaunt finds a dog that reminds him of his old dog at home and has a ‘can we keep him’ moment

• Gaunt publishes his translations. perhaps he makes them more accessible for people who aren’t getting that upper class public school education, with english translation accompanying the original greek (inspired by his friendship with Hayes). Maybe Hayes reads them and resolves that they’re just ‘decent’

• If they return to england, Ellwood brings his hosting reputation with him, and holds a party upon his return to england and before their departure back to brazil or wherever their travels take them every time. unwittingly attracts a LOT of upper-class queers.

• they get (fake) married one day. they get matching wedding bands in whatever metal matches the other’s undertones (cus this is the type of thing at least one of them knows). they get to cal each other ‘husband’ in the comfort of their own home.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Mostly managed a media blackout today but still saw some pictures and reactions and I have to express some things.

People are insane… no really they are

His violent outburst at the coach is vile, immature and disgusting. This is not how any adult should behave and I’m appalled he hasn’t even apologised for it

Literally every single photo from after the game 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮

It is perfectly acceptable to still enjoy sport and/or entertainment while the world is in shambles. Just because there are wars going on does not mean all enjoyment is now forbidden and should be replaced with protesting. If you are one of those people guilt tripping others for enjoying or caring for something to make yourself feel morally superior, fuck off. Yes the world is shit, yes we should speak up about that. But when we have, we can still enjoy things and care for our own wellbeing

I’m fucking glad it’s over, this one was worse to see and harder to avoid than the other games. She looked miserable. Thanks for making me feel sad for someone I admire, NFL. It felt like watching the two versions of the anti hero mv battle each other in one body.

I can already hear the ‘she’s not the victim here, she’s a grown ass adult and she chose this’ voices. But she didn’t look like a grown ass adult in charge of her own choices, she looked like a distressed child ready to bolt. And today I felt like looking across the room at a school party at the only other kid who’s also an introvert at heart but went because their parents made them go, and nod in understanding and shared pain. It’s not the way I want to see the woman who just six months ago was the embodiment of girl power and just made history with her talent and success. Bring on the tour again and please please let this shit show be over.

(And one more thing: Remember how Taylor in 2014ish said she was attracted to kindness and a caring nature? Hm…. It sucks that the world is seemingly telling her, fuck kindness, what you deserve is an immature square man who assaults a 65 year old on the side of a sports field.)

[marimayscarlett]

Priest RZK? Priest RZK. That's some gourmet shit right there. Discuss.

Hi 👀

Ah yes. The age old brainrot of Priest RZK which is still going strong, caused by the infamous music video which also brought us, apart from a very fabulous Richard, a suave Monk-Olli and yet another Schneider with a puppy-moment, which still causes people to lose it every other day:

Now, to examine this fascination with Priest RZK properly, it's somewhat important to look at some general and at some more specific points regarding the attraction to priests and men of the church:

First and foremost, they're meant to be celibate (at least in the catholic church, which is my point of view here). They're actually unattainable and off limits as a romantic and/or sexual partner since they vowed loyalty and love to the church and are definitely not meant to stray from this path in any way. Which kind of, if we use theological terms here, makes them some kind of 'forbidden fruit' so to speak.

-> If a priest, who vowed to be celibate, desires someone, it can become a test of his vocation, which can have life-altering consequences, emotional turmoil, unrequired longing and love and maybe ultimately even a secret affair - a whole lot of potential drama, which can be quite a thrill for some people.

They are (or should be in the best case) there for people in need. Listening to concerns, giving out advice, keeping secrets to themselves and overall representing some form of (fatherly) confidant and advisor, most of the time in one-on-one conversations - roles which can become quite loaded with emotion and emotional intimacy, so to speak.

-> Priests can be (for some religious women, like here) an embodiment for care and security, like a safe dream vision to project inner longings on without running the risk of being disappointed (since acting on these feelings is out of question).

In the linked articled above, a survey among catholic women gathered the following typical traits for a priest in women's eyes: 'different to other men’, he ‘pays attention to me’, ‘listens to me’, is ‘sensitive’ and ‘intelligent’; thus oftentimes traits these women miss in their own lives/relationships. Attraction to priests can point in the direction of "a search for both alternative models of masculinity and alternative experiences of male authority" (especially for women who suffered under these social structures, but not only) - a man which moves outside of the common norms and male behaviour patterns.

Regarding Richard, I can imagine that the following thoughts might come into play when it comes to the insane attraction of the concept of him as a priest:

Richard in priest robes looks so good, so modest and serious, and so wrong. Since we kind of know he's not the most steady person regarding relationships and definitely does not live anywhere near the realms of celibacy, this contrast between his way of life and that of a priest can be quite alluring and in my mind creates the picture of a somehow corrupt and opportunistic priest, which absolutely does not help. (Not thinking about him piously celebrating mass and then making you drop to your knees in the confessional 5 minutes later, nope)

Richard is a great listener and very interesting and interested conversation partner, so he would make a great priest regarding giving out advice and listening to problems and sorrows. To confide in him in a private setting, only for the situation to turn out like this is a brainrot which accompanies me for quite some time now 👍🏼

The terminology of adressing him. Quoting 'Fleabag' here:

This (or to be the reason the poor priest has to turn to drastic measures to keep his desires in check, what a dream):

Conclusion: Every day, we stray further away from God on here and do so in lightning speed 👌🏼

[blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda]

iwtv ep 5 rewatch thoughts

opening with the scene within which i have built a home and become a permanent resident. right here in the moment rashmand smiles stupidly and louis slonks (🤭) every last drop of his blood. how anyone thinks they’re boring idk idk idk

they are being clear here that this isn’t consumption for the sake of sustenance. this is bloodletting as sex play and as power play. Danny is not having dinner. so its clear that this isn’t feeding as a meal but it is feeding as sexual exhibition at its most delicious. Danny is reading about claudia’s violent acts via the written recording of her victim’s last words while loumand basically vampire fuck at the other end of the table. this is also setting up the sexual violence to come for claudia and also for louis.

i think it is intentional that louis is the one feeding from armand for several reasons. one being because of what lestat does to him, which we see later on. this is power play for louis in a setting where he has voluntarily and possibly in some aspects dubiously relinquished control over to his lover armand. also bc of the connection between daniel and armand. they are revealing rashid as armand slowly here and his and louis’ involvement with daniel in the past. Daniel isn’t dumb. they know he can figure out the inconsistencies of louis drinking from armand and louis drinking from damek. this leads to daniels curiosity about how armand tastes like and his weight and louis puts daniel’s hidden attraction out on display against his wishes to throw him off. and daniel orders rashid around to take back some power.

i also think it’s a call back to the power dynamic of their first meeting. louis has power over daniel, and it seems he’s the one in control of the entire situation but then he checks in with armand before moving forward. in this moment in the present dubai 2020 setting louis has power over daniel (regardless of him no longer being that naive young man) and he plays the role of the one with the power over rashid, but the power he is receiving is from armands 500+ year old blood that he is offering to louis as the character he is playing. lord take me.

i think it’s interesting that daniel is feasting on claudia’s private memories but objects to louis reading and exposing his personal thoughts. even tho louis has shown time and again that he does that and would do it again. choices/consent is the big issue in this episode.

Daniel: man with green vest: please no. man with fat fingers: please stop. window washer: i can’t die like this. woman with purple shoes: please. boy with inner tube and dog: let my dog live. please no. please stop. stop. oh here’s a good one—man in the last row of The Son of Sheik picture show: You said you had cigarettes.

this is the first recounts we hear him read from claudia’s journal—claudia, who did not get a say in whether her voice and story be used by louis, armand and daniel in this way. He reads this and it’s clear that he [daniel] hadn’t actually consented to being the voyeur of loumand’s sex play given his visible discomfort/agitation. He continues anyways, trying his best to focus on the task at hand and not his bisexual longing for the men at the other end of the table bc even with everything he is reading and witnessing he is still attracted to them in all their insanity and monstrosity.

im interested in the fact that he pointedly reads out (“here’s a good one”) the misleading nature of the last one. “You said you had cigarettes.” i think it speaks to the fact that daniel came here to dubai for a supposed second interview and is slowly but surely realizing he is getting something else entirely. he continues “School teacher, guard your heart. i’m trying to think of something more fucked up than this.” he could be just talking about what claudia has written, but i think it’s also the fact that this is the section of his reading that loumand have chosen to be overtly sexual in front of him for as he reads. all this and he doesn’t even know yet of rashid being armand and his role in claudia’s death, though i’m sure he’s having suspicions of everything by now. also that louis, with being faced with the piece of claudia he doesn’t like to acknowledge, the monstrosity of her vampire nature, focuses of drinking from armand the man who killed his beloved daughter (something he said about “i run to the bottle” etc. etc). it does in fact get more fucked up danny.

and when armand implies that daniel is no better by revealing the danger it poses on louis and exposing louis’ suicidality without his permission (“he lives to share these opinions even when they are not solicited”) and revealing he doesn’t even want this book to happen, louis fights back by leaning into his power over daniel and exposing his thoughts about armand, and continues to, even when danny makes it clear his thoughts were not being voluntarily shared—that he did not want louis in his mind at all. he even interrupts rashmand in the middle of telling daniel he wouldn’t let him near his neck to offer up more information abt rashid (much to armands annoyance) that clearly isn’t even true after reading daniel’s mind again when daniel just explicitly told him not to. and when louis does that daniel fights back by leaning into his perceived power over rashid—louis’ servant—by demanding more of something to drink without even looking at him. and at this armand picks up his lil ipad and leaves without even picking up daniel’s glass, being the one who is actually the most powerful in the room. this is crazy. this is actually insane.

all this and armand is the one who killed claudia!!!! the only one who doesn’t get to fight back against her agency being taken from her in this scene!!! i’m going to fucking throw up. who is bored with them!? they are literally putting on thee insane sexy bdsm emo freaks show like…

“ The Son of Sheik” also alludes to the upcoming sexual assault btw. It’s a sequel to “The Sheik” where the protagonist is the son of the sheik in the first film who falls in love with a traveling dancer Yasmine. He rapes her out of retaliation for having been kidnapped and later whipped, which he believes to be her fault bc she is falsely accused of it. like in this episode and like claudia, yasmine’s rape is strongly implied in the movie with the use of pointed language and a scene cut.

this scene closes out with daniel pointing out he can’t get to accurate statistics of claudia’s murders to corroborate her accounts whether he thinks its more or less than what she recounts im unsure. louis points out that he wouldn’t be able to get an accurate account anyways bc of their disposal practices and how cities tend to downplay the dangers within them. daniel wanting all the details and louis making it clear he will have to accept that he can’t always have all the details will be a point of contention later on as we know.