#aw man its ending already? that felt short

[euphemiaamillais]

innocent - coriolanus snow

you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with a peacekeeper in your bed…

cw: 18+//loss of virginity//piv sex//handjobs//fingering

an: this gif is him above me 🤭🤭

perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear such a short skirt to the hob that evening. you’d caught the eye of many men as you swayed to the tunes of the covey; cheap moonshine in hand. you noticed one in particular—the one with those piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde buzzcut—was watching you intently.

you couldn’t help but blush, cheeks dancing with the warmth of being seen, chest filling with that sticky feeling. you’d felt it before, but the smiles of those other men had never amounted to anything more than a lingering kiss or two. your heart stirred when he came up to you, and you realised he was a peacekeeper. you knew better than to get entangled with one, or so you thought.

it was hard to resist one so charming and attractive.

'i saw you looking at me,' he remarked, drawing his arms around your waist.

you could barely meet his gaze, embarrassed by the way his cool touch sent a shiver down your spine and made your thighs tingle with want.

'shy are we, bunny?' he asked, removing one hand to cup your chin, drawing it up to meet his icy blue eyes.

you shook your head, but your eyes told the truth; fluttering about the room, trying to look anywhere but him. you wondered if anybody could see you—it would've been shameful to be caught so close with a peacekeeper. but nobody seemed to be paying you any heed, and so your pounding heart ceased its nervous palpitations.

‘how about a dance?’ he laced his fingers in your hand, moving it up so it rested against his shoulder.

you were acutely aware of the other hand which rested at your waist, and you couldn’t exactly say no when he had already moulded you into the perfect stance. the band began to play a slow song, and the blush stained your cheeks once again. he laughed, an almost mirthful laugh—although, coriolanus snow was never somebody to really, truly laugh—not that you knew that.

‘are you going to tell me your name, officer?’ you drawled, deciding that there was no harm in flirting. he was so handsome after all; and it would be rude not to talk to him.

‘it’s private, actually,’ he admitted bashfully, as if he was ashamed of his inferiority. but next to you, he felt powerful. you were just a district girl, and much smaller than his six foot frame. he could do anything he wanted to you.

‘well private, you ought to have a name,’ you began. ‘and it’s awful rude to not introduce yourself to a lady.’

you were teasing him; he wondered how many men you’d used that line on, but when he looked at the way you were bright red, and how your knees buckled a little, even as you attempted to maintain your composure, he reckoned it couldn’t have been many.

‘it’s private snow,’ he told you curtly.

you smiled; a pretty name. much different to the names here in 12, though you reckoned a peacekeeper was probably from one of the other, wealthier districts. not that you knew much about those.

‘well, private snow,’ your voice had a sweet twang to it, and he found himself thinking of another girl he knew, once, with that same appalachian drawl. he had come here to find her, and yet had no luck.

but you weren’t so bad—no, you were even prettier, and probably didn’t have a man like billy taupe clinging onto your skirts. he wondered if you had ever even kissed a man before. you had the sweetest looking lips, so plump, and a little wet with the moonshine you’d been sipping.

‘how are you liking district 12?’ you continued, brows quirking up with interest.

‘it’s alright. commander hoff works us to the bone but i suppose that’s the price you pay for 20 years,’ he huffed. his eyes looked a little distance—sad, perhaps. you wondered if he’d had much choice in the matter. still, even if he hadn’t, you did have to admit he would probably look good in his peacekeeper uniform.

‘20 years?’ your mouth stretched into a circle of surprise. ‘my, that’s terribly brave.’

his own cheeks reddened a little, though he quickly swallowed that feeling. he couldn’t blush, that was pathetic. that was something his fellow peacekeeper sejanus plinth did. no, a woman like you wasn’t to be caught by a blushing man. he needed to show you what it meant to be had by a peacekeeper—not the ambitious schoolboy in academy rouge that he’d left as soon as he’d set foot in 12.

‘i suppose so…’ his voice trailed off.

‘how do you keep yourself entertained, private snow?’ you asked as you swayed a little to one of the songs the covey was playing.

his mind flickered to what he’d been planning on doing to you—he’d not touched a woman in weeks, and at night he often found his body receptive to any and all thoughts. tonight, he had the chance to actually satisfy that ache that had been bottled up for weeks. he wondered if you’d feel better than that girl he did in the alley—at least his mind was clear tonight.

‘oh, dancing with pretty girls like you is one way of staving off boredom, bunny,’ he pressed a kiss to your hand, watching as your lips puckered into a bashful smile.

how innocent. he’d love to ruin you. he wondered what noises you’d make with his cock buried deep inside of you. you were probably tight as anything, just begging to be filled up with his cock.

‘well, if you think i’m pretty then i suppose i’ll have to thank you,’ you gazed up through your thick lashes, fluttering them ever-so-slightly.

his cock stirred in his pants—you were so fucking tempting. the way you were just begging to be fucked. he cocked a brow, curious as to what your intentions were.

‘what kind of thanks, bunny?’ he asked, breath fanning your ear.

‘well…’ feeling daring, you stroked at his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his shirt. you noticed the dog tag dangling, and a smirk played at his lips.

‘how about a kiss?’ you offered. oh, you were so innocent.

he nodded, and you felt your heart flutter. you worried he’d think you were being too forward, what, with you offering so quickly. but he was just so handsome. you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.

perhaps you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out…

you dragged him to a more secluded place, feeling a little too embarrassed about kissing him in the throng of people. he wondered, as you led him down the corridor of the hob, just how much you’d be thanking him. maybe you’d let him touch you a little, hands straying to cup your breasts, and then perhaps caress your hips. one thing would lead to another… and sweet virgins like you were easily persuaded.

coriolanus was swift with his kiss, leaning into you as you were pressed against the wall. you kissed back, soft at first, but when you felt his tongue pressing against your lips, you opened your mouth and surrendered.

he wrapped his hands around your waist, palming at the skin beneath your shirt. a heat crept upon your cheeks as his lips kissed yours with a hunger. pressed up against you, his cock twitched a little in his pants. he had to have you, you were practically begging for it in a skirt that short.

‘you taste so sweet, bunny,’ he mused as you pulled away from him. he wondered what you’d taste like in other places, whether your cunt had the same sweetness of your mouth.

you wanted more—your cunt ached, an unfamiliar feeling, but nontheless you knew you needed to be satisfied.

coriolanus could see this, the way you clenched your thighs together, and how your heart thumped inside your chest. he’d felt it when he’d been flush against you.

‘you wanna thank me some more?’ he inquired, blonde brow cocked.

you bit your lip, but you knew you couldn’t deny the rush inside your body, the way you were growing increasingly wet between your thighs. the ache that nagged at you, yearning to be satisfied.

‘mhm,’ you nodded dumbly, feeling his hands grab at your thighs.

‘you live alone?’ he asked, desire glinting in his eyes.

you shook your head, and a frown scampered upon his lips.

‘well, my pa’s not home til late, if you wanna come over…’ you drew a heavy breath, nerves making your knees buckle.

his frown turned to a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. how endearing, the way you called your father pa. you were so beneath him, and he was determined to teach you that you belonged to him, the poor little district girl who’d been snapped up in the peacekeeper’s trap.

—

your house wasn’t far from the hob. coriolanus was glad of this, his cock was straining so hard in his trousers—he worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and finishing without even having touched you. well, that would just be a waste; embarrassing even.

you fumbled with the keys, and he felt a smile scamper upon his lips as he watched you, so afraid, his poor little bunny, struggling to open the door. when you finally slotted the key in the lock, coriolanus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lightly across your skin.

‘you know bunny, you really should be careful around strange men,’ he murmured against your ear. you were acutely aware of what was pressing against your bottom.

‘but you’re not strange… you’re a peacekeeper,’ you hummed, moving your legs over the threshold. he still clung to you, breath heavy, hands roaming.

you had to get inside before anyone saw, and god forbid, alerted your pa. there was something deliciously thrilling about having a man inside of your home—you wondered if it made you a whore, inviting him inside and only having known him an hour. but you knew many girls who did that, and at least you weren’t taking money for it.

‘mhm, but men like me… well, they just can’t resist taking what’s theirs,’ he pinched you, watching you gasp at the stinging feeling of your delicate skin between his fingers. you looked so sweet when you squirmed.

‘well maybe i want you to take what’s yours,’ you looked up at him with wide eyes, fingers lacing against each other as you swung about.

you looked like a little lamb, so sweet and innocent. he wanted to take you between his jaw and make you bleed.

‘is that so, bunny?’ he asked, and you nodded dumbly.

you trailed along to your room, not desperate enough to let him have you against a wall, glancing back at him every so often and watching as his eyes followed you. you shoved the door open, and switched on the little lamp by your bedside table.

your room was bare, for the most part, but coriolanus felt it suited you, the cream bedsheets and the old floral wallpaper. it was so innocent. he wondered if you’d stain those sheets tonight as he stretched you out. he’d want to keep them, as a reminder of what he’d taken from you.

you sat down on the bed, and he followed suit, still reminded of his achingly hard cock. you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his trousers; it was of a considerable size, and made you gnaw at your lip in anticipation.

‘i want to help you,’ you said, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

‘help me, bunny?’ he inquired. your words were a little cryptic, but he could tell that your eyes were clearly focused on his achingly hard cock.

‘mhm, you’re so hard,’ you murmured. although you were innocent, you’d read enough romance novels to figure out what he needed.

‘you can certainly help me,’ he grabbed your hand and guided it to his clothed hard-on.

you palmed it lightly, gasping as you felt it. he watched as your mouth spread into an exclamation of delight, lips flickering a little. you were so innocent, the way you were gentle in your touches, how you sighed with amazement.

he groaned at the touch, but moved your hand away to free his cock from the restraints of his pants and boxers. your mouth hung agape as he pulled them down to his knees and you were presented with his hard cock. he was big, not that you’d really seen a cock before, but it had to be at least eight inches, and it was throbbing desperately against his stomach.

coriolanus guided your hand back, and wrapped it around the base. you could feel the blood coursing through it, and saw a little bit of precum dribbling from the tip.

‘just move your hand up and down, princess,’ he cooed, and you stroked him, sweaty palms not causing as much friction as he expected.

you moved your hand to the tip, and he urged you to give it a squeeze, groaning as you did so. you felt so good, the way you were thumbing his dripping head, stroking so diligently. but he wanted more, he needed to feel you.

your thighs burned as you continued to stroke him, and you watched as he bucked his hips a little at your touch. you fastened the pace, not too quick, but just enough that his breaths grew haggard. it didn’t seem so intimidating now that you were doing it, and his moans suggested you were doing a good job.

but still, your own body was aching with need, and you found yourself grinding into the bed. coriolanus saw this, the way you were practically squirming, and moved one of his own hands to grip at your thigh.

‘does bunny want me to touch her too?’ he said between breaths.

you nodded lazily, hand still pumping his cock. he was close already, the feeling of your hand too much, and the anticipation of finally burying himself deep inside of you was sending him over the edge.

coriolanus’ fingers traced lightly up your thigh, and when he reached your skirt, he pushed past the hem and slipped between the apex of your thighs. you spread them, and gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the wet patch of your panties.

‘oh bunny, you’re so wet,’ he sighed, his cock throbbing. he was so close…

you mewled as he removed your panties, fingers gently prying them off of you and leaving them to hang at your ankles. you kicked them off, but were left sighing as he ceased his touch for a moment.

his cock twitched in your grip, and he let out a loud, rough groan, spurts of cum coming from the tip of his cock. you blushed, watching as he came onto your hand, and his stomach. he’d have to wash his uniform tonight, because it was stained with the pearly ropes.

sweat beaded at his forehead, but he didn’t let the waves of his own pleasure distract from what he wanted most, which was to feel you. you spread your legs, and he sighed at the sight of your glistening cunt.

he ran one finger over your folds, and you clutched at the bedsheets, attempting to ignore how sensitive you already were. his thumb pressed against your clit, and you couldn’t stifle your moan this time, a feeling of warmth shooting across your body. you wanted more, and ground into the feeling of his thumb running circles against the sensitive spot.

‘so wet for me, aren’t you?’ he muttered, his long fingers edging further down your folds.

‘feels so… good,’ you huffed, eyes fluttering shut with bliss. of course you were already lingering on the edge of your own pleasure—he doubted you’d ever even touched yourself before.

he eased a finger into your hole; feeling your slick walls take it in, but only barely. you were so fucking tight, and he watched as you winced a little at the feeling. it only hurt for a second, but you were so wet that you were longing for more.

‘oh please,’ you gasped, feeling him arch his finger while his thumb began to vary its ministrations against your clit.

‘gonna cum for me, bunny?’ he cooed, moving his thumb up and down, watching as your thighs began to tremble.

the heat was unbearable now, and when he added another finger, stretching you out, you felt your whole body begin to tingle with the beginning of your release.

‘mhm!’ you cried out, exasperated from his touch.

you gushed around his fingers, though he continued to rub his thumb against your clit, and arch his fingers inside of you, mesmerised by the wetness coating them. your breath hitched, and you came completely undone, burning and trembling as he made you cum.

he felt his cock harden again at the sight of you coming around his fingers, and as he removed them from your hole, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

coriolanus pushed you back into the bed, cock pressing against your thighs. your head swam with the excess of your desire, but you surrendered yourself to him, longing to feel him buried deep inside of you.

he guided just the tip towards your hole, and ran it teasingly through the soaking folds of your cunt. you mewled, and clutched at his back in an attempt to get him to push into you. deciding he was greedy, he pressed the tip into you, and you let out a shocked groan.

it hurt—he was big, but you hadn’t expected it to make you tingle so much. you bit back a few tears, and let him put the rest of the tip in. you were so tight, he couldn’t believe it. if you’d felt tight around his fingers, this was a whole new sensation. you were clenching around his cock, and he had barely so much as the head of it inside you.

‘too big,’ you gasped, feeling him ease his cock further in. it stung a little, the stretch slightly unpleasant. but you wanted him so bad. ‘it hurts!’

‘poor bunny,’ he mused, stroking your cheek. ‘you gotta learn to take it, like a good girl. i know you want it, bunny.’

you did, you wanted it so bad. even though it hurt, you felt your stomach knot tightly as it did when he’d rubbed your clit. he began to buck his hips, grunting at the tightness of your cunt. your walls stretched around his big cock, taking him in as best they could, slick with want and need.

‘fuck, you’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned as thrust inside of you.

more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. he watched as you tried to fight off the feelings of pain, surrendering yourself to the pleasant feeling of fullness and his throbbing cock inside of you. he wanted nothing more than to pound into you, make you scream his name as he filled you up, but you were too delicate. he’d have to wait until you were ready, and you were special, anyways. a pretty doll just for him.

‘oh,’ you gasped as he fucked himself deeper, reaching a new angle inside of you.

the sound of your slick mingling with the slapping of his balls echoed against the walls of your room, and you clutched at his back. your desire began to brim again, edging its way up your thighs and deep into the pit of your stomach. coriolanus could hardly contain himself, you fit around him so perfectly, slick walls coating his cock as he thrust in and out.

‘fuck bunny, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ he admitted haggardly. he attempted to control his urges, but you were just so tight. what was stopping him from coming in you right then and there?

‘need you,’ you mumbled as he rutted against your hips, thrusts growing more desperate.

he moved one hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit, fingers deftly helping to unfurl the ache inside of you. you sputtered at the sensation, head spinning as he fucked you into the mattress.

he was so close, the clenching of your walls sending the blood straight to his head. he let out a final grunt, and slowed his thrusts, and felt himself come undone. he ground his cock into you, letting the thick spurts of his cum coat your walls. he came a lot, more than he’d ever done before, balls draining with what felt like every last drop.

he still continued to fuck up into you, wanting you to finish around him before he pulled out. your legs began to tremble, the feeling of his cum too much to handle, and you let out a sweet cry.

‘so good,’ you pressed your lips together, coming undone around his dock.

coriolanus pulled out, cock coated in a milky ring of your spend, his tip still red and angry from use. your body tingled, and you felt his cum trickling down between your legs. he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked, all fucked out for him, drunk on his cock.

he’d turned such a pretty innocent thing into a stupid whore, who could barely form a sentence without sighing from the excess of her pleasure.

he wondered how long he’d have to wait to go another round, and whether or not you’d let him. but you’d been so good to him that night, doing exactly what he told you and coming for him not once, but twice.

‘such a good girl for me, bunny,’ he mused, stroking your thigh. ‘and so innocent.’

[purple-writer8]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - ACOTAR

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister (Reader)

“I cry a lot but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

warnings: toxic man implied, abused eris, emotionally unavailable eris, depressed reader, broken up mates, angst

968 words

Masterlist :)

"Yes, I went to Day and reported the findings to Helion. Then to Thesan." You reported to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand looked more than pleased, and Feyre could only gape at you in awe. 

"You did all that in a day?" She asked in shock, admiration gleaming in her eyes for you. You nodded, a tired smile adorning your face, "and the ball is all set for tonight." 

Feyre gaped along with her mate, they could hardly believe it. "You are a blessing, a real fucking blessing. Thank you, so much... you will get more than a hefty bonus in your next payment." Rhysand grinned, dark talons caressing your mind in a soothing way. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, then asked, "why do you two always act like I'm some kind of miracle fae?" 

They glanced at each other, then back at you, and then pity overtook both their stares. You know why. You were supposed to be heartbroken, as you had just ended your betrothal to Eris Vanserra. The two of you were mates, but the abuse he had suffered from his father and the toxic familiar dynamics he had grown up in, made him less than emotionally unavailable. 

He was unable to communicate what he felt, all he could do was share his feelings through your bond. But that was not enough, not when he had commitment issues and acted like an ass to your family. The bond was strong, but your self-respect was stronger.  Especially when you knew what you were worth, being the Night Court's High Lord's sister and Princess of Velaris. 

"What happened with Eris... at the last ball... it was bad..." Feyre trailed, not wanting to exactly mention what had happened. It was fucking painful for you, you had broken your engagement in front of everyone. "And I saw you crying last night... and this morning before your mission..." she added. 

"I cry a lot, but I am still very productive. I can do my work with a broken heart." You replied with a simple shrug, much to Rhysand's dismay. You had always been like that, had always hidden your feelings and done your work even when you were breaking down.

“You’re a real tough kid.” He said softly, violet eyes eyeing you closely, “you complete all your missions seamlessly. You are an example to follow.” 

You chuckled dryly, “yeah, yeah, I am the best. Can I go get ready for tonight? I got the most beautiful dress and I want to try it on.” With that, the couple simply nodded and excused you. 

They were right to be impressed. You wanted to die, and yet— you were ready to shine that night, like every other night. 

Ready to show everyone lies. 

-

The ball in the House of Wind went off without a problem, and like every other night-- you were the center of attention. The gown you wore was magnificent, the light reflected off you in a majestic manner, almost as if you wore liquid starlight in your frame. You stood at the side of the bar with Azriel, watching as everyone arrived, sipping on a tall glass of champagne. You knew Eris was coming, you needed to drink before seeing him. 

"You look pretty," the shadowsinger said in a stoic manner, hazel eyes traveling up and down your frame swiftly. You smirked into your glass, "as do you." 

"Have you spoken to him?" He asked, and you knew he referred to Eris. Azriel cared, and he showed it, having known you since the moment you had been born-- he was protective of you. Especially because he loathed Eris with all his being. 

"Please, he avoids me like I am faebane," you snorted, the alcohol working its magic on you already. And you were grateful for it, because you almost choked when your eyes met the red - haired male that had once promised he would love you for his whole life. What a short life. 

You felt Azriel's eyes on you, his shadows coiling around your ankles in support as you watched Eris strut into the ball as if he owned it. He commanded the room, but that was normal. He was a magnetic force of a male. You looked at Azriel, seeking shelter in his hazel eyes-- the mating bond was tugging you to Eris, his presence was like a fire roaring inside your heart. 

You were about to break down, so you hit the dance floor. Dragging your sister-in-law from her seat next to your brother, you danced and danced. Feyre and you were always a force to be reckoned with when you partied together, and that night was no exception. You both were grinning as you danced, twirling about the Hall as if you were made of starlight. 

The crowd of fae chanted and cheered for you, and you could feel the pieces of your heart shattering on the floor. It was always like that. You were miserable, and no one even knew. You laughed as you danced with Feyre, as if you couldn't feel your mate's heartbreak from across the room. "Eris looks like he wants to die," Feyre whispered as if she could read your mind. 

"Yeah, but if I try to talk to him, he avoids me like I have fae plague," you snickered, your eyes finding the heir of Autumn. As soon as your eyes found his, they were looking away from you, as if he hadn't been watching you dance. You wanted to die, but instead you twirled and grinned as if you were having the time of your life. 

"Then let me talk to him," the High Lady offered, and you stopped your dancing, giving her a stern look. 

"I can handle my shit, Feyre." 

-

Author’s note:

This will probably have a part two because i love eris and i want him to be happy. Also ttpd has me in my feels soooooo probs a lot of angst coming ehfuhihoiqhioghhrueiuifio3iij4rijj

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[have-a-treato]

These Hands

Gale x gn!reader, Gale x gn!Tav

Content/Tags: Soft, slow, NSFW, service top Tav/reader, oral, penetration, short, one-shot

Context: Between the ending of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, on the road to Baldur's Gate. Light spoilers for the end of Act 2, Gales overall story and a non-spoilery reference to the Act 2 romance scene.

Word count: 2.3k

“You should be with me in this… Let me-“ With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

Fic List AO3

After the battle with Ketheric Thorm the group has finally made its way on the road to Baldur’s Gate. The days have been long, and with many still recovering from the battle, everyone has decided to take a well-earned day of rest before continuing the last leg of the journey to the city.

Gale had unsurprisingly and generously produced a cozy space for you both to laze the day away in. His space is now closer to a library than a tent, with bookshelves lining a spun illusion of a tower room, plush carpets laid out on every inch of the floor, and a quiet fire burning in a hearth on one wall.

You grinned at him when first stepping inside, “Your home? In Waterdeep?” You teased him.

“I didn’t show you before, so now felt as good a time as any. Nothing in all the realms is more relaxing than my library,” he said with a decidedly pretentious tone.

With a knowing grin, you held up your hands in acquiescence and headed for the pile of pillows tucked between two of the bookshelves. Who were you to argue with a wizard about his tower?

Now, you’ve stirred from a long nap nestled into Gale’s side on the pillows as he reads a large tome picked up from somewhere on the journey. Probably the Sharran temple.

“Mmm… this was a great idea, I must admit.” You mumble into his shoulder as you wake.

Gale winds his arm around your hip, tucking you even closer. “That implies you had doubts about our afternoon of languor, and I must say I’m a bit offended. I have great ideas. Particularly when it comes to you.”

You let out a groggy snort as you stretch your free arm across his chest, continuing your ascent back to the waking world.

He turns his head away from his book to nuzzle your hair, “Go back to sleep,” he mumbles into your scalp. “You took some hard hits during the battle with Thorm. Or are you hungry? I can whip up the stew you like. Or could I interest you in a book from my vast collection? I have one in mind I think you’ll find fascinating. Or-“

You cut him off when you start quietly chuckling into his shoulder. This man nearly met his own end and yet he seeks to serve you.

“I’ll advise you it is unwise to laugh at a man’s stew.” He says with a grin.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips, and wiggle out of his hold to straddle his middle. You gently remove that hefty tome of his and set it aside. Your hand shifts up his chest to lightly, absently trace the lines of his orb sigil along his neck.

“I only realized that I’d like to do something for you,” you say softly.

Gale’s grin falters momentarily, “I could not ask more of you, who have already given me everything.”

Your heart soars at his words, but you know Gale. You know just how deserving he is of everything you have to offer, yet he would not ask for it. He would not ask for anything for fear of not being worthy of it, despite all you’ve shared together. He must be shown how deserving he is, you decide. Slowly, perhaps he will come to see that he can receive the same love and care that he graces you with.

His hands reach for you after you’ve paused too long in your contemplating, but you catch his wrists. Closing your eyes, you plant a soft kiss at his right wrist, listening to his small, somewhat awed sigh at the touch. Your plan takes form in your mind, and you drop his left hand to begin work on his right. Beginning at his wrist, your thumbs move in small circles, massaging the muscle and small joints. As you move up toward to his elbow and back down to the wrist, squeezing lightly to continue massaging, Gale lets out another sigh. Your lips twitch at his easily coaxed reactions. He clearly enjoys this attention - why not let himself ask for more? You move to his hand, methodically rubbing down the length of each finger. You get a little lost in your task, enjoying the feel of his skin as you finish with the right and move to the left. Gale’s life as a prodigy shows in his hands. Not soft, as one might imagine for a wizard, but slightly rough and dry from the constant turning of pages, of wielding a staff, of pulling from the Weave. These hands have worshiped your skin, have clinched victories, have created wonders. They are precious. Glancing up at him, he has a bemused expression but attempts to hide it with that ever-present grin. You bring both hands up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. A few small scars decorate the tops of his hands, and you take a moment to give each one their own attentions.

“Hmm…” you sigh with your lips brushing over his fingers. “These hands have done so much.”

“These hands can do more,” he says with a lift of his brows.

You chuckle, giving an index finger a little nip. “Oh yes, I’m acquainted with their skills.” You eye him mischievously, licking the tip of that same finger with your tongue. A tease. “I would know what these hands desire.”

“They want for nothing where you are concerned. How can they grant your desires? Now, there is the better question.” He replies.

Not good enough. You hold his gaze again, trying to let him see your openness, your earnestness to give him something of yourself that he deserves. Something he didn’t have to earn by being anything other than himself. You slide your tongue around that finger, bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly from knuckle to tip.

“Nothing?” You whisper, “Nothing at all?”

His eyes are locked with yours, and you sense him tense beneath you slightly. The jovial mask of Gale of Waterdeep slips a little; in his eyes you see that yearning you suspected was there all along. They search your face, looking for deception, for conditional affection, perhaps even outright lies. But they will find none, and you will prove it to him over and over and over again. You press and encouraging kiss to his palms, catching the movement of his throat as he swallows nervously.

“You.” He says lowly. “Always you.”

Reverently placing his hands down, you lean in, taking his face between your palms. “You have me. Wholly.” You breathe onto his lips. The kiss is a brush of skin at first, then confident as he attempts to take the lead, dancing that talented tongue with yours to drive you mad. You nip at his lower lip to take back control, slowing the pace. Softly sucking on his lip as you pull back, you give him your eyes full of that openness to reassure him, as your hands move lower.

Slowly you release the buckle of his tunic, pushing the fabric up over his torso, planting treasuring kisses along his chest as you head down to his trousers. His hands make a gentle protest in your hair, but you place them back at his sides, a quiet question in your eyes as you continue. You can see the uncertainty in his gaze, the hesitation to bask in your attention, and the mix of excitement and curiosity for what you will do next. Which will win out?

He gives a soft, tentative smile as your signal to continue. You unfasten the ties for his trousers with an easy smile, tugging them down just enough, and do the same for his underwear. The moment is too precious to interrupt with disrobing completely. You are singularly focused on showing this man, in some small way, just how much you care for him.

His cock bobs, half-hard, as you reveal it. You take him in hand, pausing again with that question in your eyes as you bend down. His chest rises and falls in anticipation as he gives you a slight nod, reaching out a hand to thread through your hair loosely. Starting at the base, you give him a long, thorough lick, keeping his gaze all the while. The throaty noise Gale releases in response is delicious in your ears – you want more. His cock stiffens fully in your hand now, and you put your lips around the tip, circling and sucking. The hand in your hair twitches. More. You hear a hiss as you swallow him fully, pulling back up to flick your tongue at the sensitive underside of his head, then pushing back down, sucking hard this time. That hiss turns into a huff as your pace quickens, squeezing the base of him with your fingers. More. You want even more. Even though this is about Gale, you might be a little selfish. You want to see the faces he’s making, how his chest is heaving, how his arms are flexing to restrain himself, the shape his mouth makes with each sound. With a few last licks and sucks, you pull off, too eager to make those visions a reality. You sit up and lick your lips, watching his face as he pants and reaches for you.

You shake your head, backing off to impatiently remove your underthings. Crawling back to straddle him, you take that hand that reached out up to your mouth to kiss his wrist. You position yourself and begin to sink down slowly, almost teasingly onto his cock. His breath hitches with each rise and fall of your hips as you take him inside you. This - this is what you wanted. His rapturous expression as he fits inside you, as you squeeze him, as you bite the meat of his thumb in your own ecstasy. He is yours, and you will worship him as he deserves. Fully seated, you begin to slowly rock your hips. This isn’t a race, isn’t lewd, isn’t about your pleasure. It is intimate, and full of your will to prove him worthy of you, worthy of his own life. You kiss each knuckle of his fingers as you continue that slow, sensual rocking. His eyes are heavy-lidded, jaw slack, chest rising and falling with his panting breath as he takes in the sight of you. You are both mostly clothed, and yet it is somehow all the more passionate for it.

“I…”, he breathes, then clears his throat nervously. “I won’t last much longer with you like this.”

“Then let go,” you say softly. “This isn’t about me.”

His expression remains conflicted, flitting between pleasure and confusion of your focused attention. “You should be with me in this… Let me-“

With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

His breath shudders as your hips restart their languid rhythm. Your hand rests over his on your chest, his other hand grasping your hip as you rock, lift up slightly, and sink back down into another rocking motion. All slow, liquid movements. Your gazes are locked, your chests lifting with the same breaths, your mouths softly open with the same tender sounds of desire. The hand at your hip squeezes, and you feel his hips start to meet yours in kind. A long groan escapes him as he quickly thrusts up into you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You lean forward as his eyes fall shut, taking in his face as he comes. His cheeks flush, his brows furrow, his breath rushes out in quick pants; then all slows and relaxes into bliss. Your rhythm doesn’t stop, riding him through the high and leading him back down again. The light sheen of sweat on his brow earns a kiss from you, and you rest your head there, patiently waiting for him to return to you. His breath slows, and his eyes blink open sluggishly. That soft, wicked grin of his returns, but you notice the lingering astonishment behind his eyes, as if he still can’t quite believe you’re real despite everything.

“For once I think I’ve rendered you speechless.”

A light chuckle escapes him as he catches his breath, “Very nearly.” He swallows, “That was…”

You interrupt his search for words with a quiet kiss. You’d rather leave the moment as it is. It needs no description, only the understanding that you did it for him because you love him. You pull away with a tender caress of his cheek, sitting back and pulling his tunic back down, his trousers back up as you lift off of him. You sense him watching you, still likely contemplating if you are amongst the illusions of this room. Quietly you re-dress in your underthings and bestow more kisses on his hands as you rejoin him among the pillows on your knees. “I recall mention of stew, but what about a cup of tea first?”

“That sounds lovely.” He says with a smile. Before he can even twitch a muscle, you’ve lifted up again and are strolling toward the very real small table near the hearth housing a teapot with ready-made tea the Wizard of Waterdeep keeps magically warmed with an environmental spell. In a few moments, you’re striding back with two cups, warmed to the perfect temperature and ready to sip. You place Gale’s cup atop the tome he was perusing earlier, earning you a slightly scandalized look as he swipes the cup up, taking a sip. You chuckle to yourself as you re-take your place at his side on the pillows. As he sets his cup down – not on a book this time – you snatch his hands again.

Placing one at your cheek and one to your lips you whisper, “I can’t get enough of these hands.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

[iateyourparents]

fOoL fOr YoU | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x singer!fem!reader

summary: fate has its own ways to connect people who are destined to each other, even after breaking them apart at some point in life.

warnings: kinda short, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english is not my first language)

an: songs used here are fOoL fOr YoU by ZAYN, My stupid heart by Walk off the Earth. Album used in here - Lover by Taylor Swift.

pictures are from pinterest:)

“Come on guys, let me hear you! I know you like this one!” you said to microphone before continuing the song “Cause I’m a fool for you and the things, the things you do…”

You heard crowd clearly and loudly singing with you your debutant song and you couldn’t feel more proud.

Even though since realese of this song you made two whole albums it still was most of your fans’ favorite song, and to be honest, it was yours too.

It was song about your teenage love, how you felt about that one boy that you aren’t even in touch anymore. You wrote fOoL fOr YoU while you still were a lovesick teenager but before you were able to present it to your former muse from these times, you were broken up.

Then, years later you met that amazing man, Charles, who took you under his wings becoming your manager and helped you with realesing your debutant single - fOoL fOr YoU.

And that’s how you became pretty famous and now, here you were playing all around the world for your “we’ll never be the same again” world tour, promoting your newest album.

“Alright, that was so good! Thank you!” you took a break to take a sip of water and then you were back in front of the chanting crowd “Okay, so I wrote this one about my ex who was absolutely awful experience but also taught me a lot.”

You could hear loud screams from a crowd which already knew what song you were about to sing so you just laughed and started singing, crowd following also started shouting lyrics.

“My stupid heart don’t know, I’ve tried to let you go so many times before…”

After few more songs you bided your goodbye to the crowd promising you will be back someday and you got off the stage and met Charles on backstage.

„How was it?” you asked with smile, sipping water.

„That was great!” you could say he was proud „And you were worried you wouldn’t be able to play on arenas.”

„That’s a big step!” you defended yourself with smile „I can’t wait to take a shower, I stink.” you grimaced.

„I won’t disagree.” he laughed and hugged you „Go relax a little before we have to go to tourbus.”

„You too Charlie, I know that you are secretly almost ripping off your hair.”

Now you were supposed to head to Los Angeles where you would play two concerts and then you would have a month long break before starting last part of the tour - Europe.

|||

You were currently sitting at the vanity in your changing room. Your make up artist, Sarah, was doing your make up for your last performance before a break when Charles came into the room.

„Hi” he started.

„Hi Charlie, what’s up?” you could tell he had some offer for you.

„What do you say, you, me and your band go to some club after you come off the stage to celebrate successful tour?”

You looked at him in the mirror and smirked at him.

„Sounds great to me.”

|||

You and your crew sat in some club. You weren’t drunk but it felt good to feel more easy with alcohol in your system after stressful couple of weeks.

„My forever favorite moment is when this one fan threw his boxers on scene and they landed perfectly in front of y/n. Her face was priceless.” Mark, the drummer, laughed. You loved talking about memories from the tour but that memory actually was traumatizing since it was the first time ever when something like this happened.

„I felt attacked.” you joked and took a last sip of your sweet drink „I’ll go order next one. Somebody wants something?”

You heard chorus of no’s and assurances that they have almost full glasses so you just walked towards the counter and waited for a bartender to end taking someone else’s order.

„Your concert was awesome.” you heard next to you. When you turned to the side you saw someone you thought you would never see again in person.

Infamous ghost hunter, your ex and an old muse of yours.

Cole Brock.

Or rather, Colby.

„Thank you” you smiled „Fancy seeing you here.”

„I live in LA.” he explained „I liked this one song, what was it? Fool for you?”

You smirked and shook your head „Yeah, I like it too.”

„So, was I good muse?” he winked and you laughed. Of course he would know it was about him. You’re pretty sure that when you were together you were sometimes telling him parts of this song.

„Excellent, thank you.”

„I’m always happy to help, so if you will need some new music, here’s my number.” he handed you a piece of paper with some numbers.

„I’ll make sure to call if i’ll need anything.” you winked at him and he laughed.

„I hope so.” he looked behind his back where a blonde boy, Sam, called him „I have to go but i’ll be waiting for your call.”

|||

If some days later you actually called Colby, nobody have to know. And if that meeting ended with him tangled in your sheets, also nobody have to know. And if this was more than one time occurrence then also nobody have to know.

And if your next album called ’Lover’ was about him and everyone knew it was about him, then it’s okay.

And if you both tattooed ’fOoL fOr YoU’ on your hips on the day of your wedding, then it’s great even if everybody knows.

You two really were like lovesick fools.

[nrdmssgs]

Prazdnik (part 2)

Masterlist Pairing: Nikto x reader Fluff AN: @sofasoap @keegansshark @yaboidante2711 @ella-bella-ella this wasn't the original plan, but because of you this guy got his kiss. Summary: this happens a few months after the first part.

Nikto lets out a thin whiff of cigarette smoke, that dissolves in crisp air. He is tired by this point. Every time he tries to think of anything, but her - the world finds its ways to remind him. Even now, when he looks up in the dimly lit sky - the curved streaks of clouds remind him of x-rays of her lungs with the subtle curves of ribs. Usually, soldiers got shot, broke their limbs or survived a shell shock, but she just had to be original and to spoil his life in a unique way - she ended up in a medbay with a pneumonia.

He tried to end this all for good, he ignored her, hid away, even tried to start a fight once - nothing helped. At the end of the day he always found himself somewhere around her: quietly hanging out, helping her or letting her help him. Nikto wasn't blind - he saw the way she looked at him. And what was even worse - he secretly started enjoying a feeling of being needed. But there was no way, he could let whatever them two had grow. His 'Prazdnik' ended the minute he stepped out of your room, and should never be repeated. Not at the cost of her frightened eyes, her forever disturbed sleep, her disgust the minute she sees him without a mask.

Time to time Nikto thinks about that touch that almost happened. He was never an innocent one, and he gladly does so many unhinged, unfair, dirty things to women, who are ok with never seeing his face and not being able to meet him again after the deed is done. But when it comes to her - Nikto doesn't want all those sins, that he usually indulges himself in. He craves not even a real kiss - just a touch of her lips against his skin would be enough. It would be ok if she chooses to not even move, not caress him. Just let him feel that warmth, he almost felt.

He frowns at this thought and takes another deep drag. The base is almost empty, except an emergency group, soldiers at medbay, a few office workers and superiors. So Nikto immediately recognizes tall figure moving from barracks to where he is standing.

"Vot tol`ko kalanchi mne seychas ne hvatalo...*" Nikto mutters frustrated and checks if there is any place he could walk away fast enough and seem preoccupied at the same time. But not being able to find any direction, in which he could retreat, he faces the Colonel, hoping, he would keep it short and simple, as usual.

"You staying for the holidays?" Colonels voice is low, he doesn't even hold back his German accent - a rare sign, that the man is exhausted.

"Have some unfinished business." Nikto tries to be as vague as possible, hoping, that it will drain Colonels social battery, and he leaves him alone.

But his commander is in no hurry to leave and hands him some paper. Nikto asks if it's a new contract, but Colonel shakes his hand. "This is for the unfinished business."

He leaves Nikto alone and confused, not wanting to hear his angry rants about how he doesnt need whatever assistance Colonel can provide. Nikto is awful when it comes to gift receiving, everybody in the KorTac knows it.

***

She wakes up with a loud cough in the middle of the night and Nikto immediately pulls her up, so she can sit on the bed straight. Clearing her throat, she reaches for the bedside lamp, but Nikto catches her hand.

"It's just me, don't bother." He pushes her hand back gently, wanting the room to remain dark.

"Andre? How did you?... Why are you here?" She barely breathes after hard coughing, but already dumps him with questions.

Nikto turns away and chuckles quietly. To tell the truth, he doesn't even know what the hell he needs in her hospital room.

"König tinkered me a pass. I thought, it would be a pity to leave you here all alone on the New Year." He lies: he doesn't give a damn about New Year or any other holiday really. Nikto just can't really be else where, when she is like that. He's been restless from the first day of her illness.

A part of him wants to get as close as it is possible, to stay by her side, until she heals fully and even after that. But there are voices appearing, growing louder with every hour. "Run away, run as far as you can, before you grow too soft and traumatize her, you moron!" Nikto is trapped between wanting to leave and needing to stay. So when she pats his shoulder and asks to not worry about her and go celebrate, he comes back to his senses and snaps back at her, 'we are staying!'

By the way her hand darts away from him Nikto understands, that he crossed the line. She is sick, obviously has fever, struggles to breathe normally, and on the top of that comes he with his freakery. He clasps his hands together, so that he doesn't reach back to her and looks down.

"Sorry. We... give me a minute, I'll collect myself." As he speaks - he hears her moving to the opposite side of the small bed. Distant chatter and laughter reach them two through the closed door and Nikto understands, that even medbay staff is celebrating. But the only sound, he now truly cares for is a shuffle of her bedsheets. He scared her off, she now doesn't even feel safe in one room with him. Bloody idiot.

"Come sit here." She touches an empty space besides her. Nikto hesitates for some time, but then surrenders and sits on her bed, making sure, he doesn't squish her accidentally.

"Maybe it's fever, maybe I'm just tired to the end of the year, I don't even care really. I just want to be honest, ok?" She rises from her pillow and leans against his shoulder. He freezes, but then forces himself to nod.

"Good..." She sighs and continues. "Look, I know, I screwed up that 'Prazdnik', I organized. I thought, I just wanted to thank you for everything, but understood too late, I wanted something other. And although I'll never get it - it's ok. I will stop pushing you, annoying you, even talking to you if it helps. But... just today, just for this one night, can we just pretend, I didn't do anything weird on that evening? I really need it."

The moment, when Nikto wants to remind her, she really did nothing weird, and they don't have to pretend, she starts coughing once again. So he brings her closer, letting her practically curl up on his chest. A cough runs in spasms throughout her entire body and Nikto softly strokes her back, repeating 'Nothing weird. You did nothing wrong'. But his mask muffles his voice, and that combined with her coughing makes it impossible for her to hear him. So he leans back on her pillow, softly guides her to lay down on his shoulder, and, praying for it to remain this dark in her room, slowly removes his mask. She doesn't make it hard for him and doesn't turn her face up - just lies obediently, being thankful for this little crack of softness in his cold demeanor, that he shows her.

"I said, you didn't do anything wrong. You just did it all to the wrong guy. All those treats, that improvised desk, I still regret I haven't taken photo of... That silly 'TV', even that branch - it all was so touching. It felt like a real holiday." She doesn't move while listening to Nikto, but he still holds a hand on her head, just in case. Without thinking, he starts playing with her hair. "But you need to do it all for someone real, someone not split into so many pieces, someone, who is more than... well, you know."

She shakes her head and Nikto feels her hand clasping to his side. This half an embrace makes him hold his breath. Something deep inside him shudders and cracks.

"Someone more than you?" She tries to end his phrase, but it is his turn to shake his head.

"Someone more than just remains of a human."

It hurts to stop hiding and say her the truth, but at the same time it feels right. His holiday is over, his celebration is never to come. And Nikto doesn't care anymore - at least he got this minutes, when she held him, before she banishes him for good. Despite all his expectations, she does not push him away.

“I wanted to celebrate the New Year for real. I was going to invite you to my place. Not to my room at the base - but to my home. I know you wouldn’t have come. But I still wanted to invite you. And then this pneumonia...” She coughs again and Nikto strokes her shoulders to make it better. When she finally can breathe again more or less properly, he asks, how would they celebrate if he came.

"Oh, this time I'd make sure, you die of cringe... I'd try to come up with a new recipe and fail ultimately, I'd make you make the 'president speech' this time." She pauses, hearing Niktos raspy low chuckle.

"No, that never happens, you little trouble. I'm not participating in this part of your fantasies."

"Ok-ok, jeez, Andre, I never said, I'd try to force you anyway. I would always ask you. Ask if you can make the speech, ask if you are willing to help me with food, ask if I can... never mind, my message here is maybe you feel broken, torn in pieces. You have every right to feel so..." Nikto is so struck by her sudden change of tone, he doesn't even realize, that her fingers trace lines up his chest and pause over his face, as she continues speaking. "All these pieces, remains, fragments, that call themselves 'Nobody' - they are precious, they are to be treated like human, to be treated with care and love."

He breathes in, trying to find any words for her, but all the words, all the voices, are mixed up in a deafening white noise. So he takes another breath, and another. But nothing changes: no clear words, no thoughts, as if he - not she was on the verge of deliriousness now. Nikto takes her hand and guides it to cover his eyes, not even thinking, she might feel, how ugly his face is. He only wishes for this sensory and emotional overdrive to stop.

And she helps him. Pressing her lips against his, crushing his fears with feather-like touches. Her skin is burning hot, her hands travel from his eyes to cup his cheeks, but Nikto doesn't care right now. Just one more moment of her being this close, one more second of him carefully holding her, one more sigh tickling his skin. He answers to her kiss. Hesitantly, because with all the violence, he holds for his work - Nikto has no violence for her. And kissing her back feels like torturing this treasure of his. He must thank her - not claim. But that self-restrain is strapping his throat with a red-hot collar, smothering him.

Fuck it. A single voice in his head. Loud and clear.

And Nikto lets go. His tongue brushes against her slightly parted lips and he deepens the kiss. He is surprisingly slow, careful, attentive. He is ready to back away at any moment, should she wish to stop. But she doesnt, and his fingers dive into her hair, cupping her head, guiding her so close, that he feels, they share one breath.

When she leans back just slightly - he immediately lets her go, holding his breath and trying to calm rushing heart. Even now he is ready for her to have second thoughts. But she smiles shyly and places a kiss on his burnt cheek.

"Sorry, I must taste like meds." Hearing her whisper he finally starts breathing.

"You taste like 'prazdnik*'. My very own holiday." He stares at the ceiling, not believing, it really happens. While his prazdnik covers his disfigured face with soft touches.

"Vot tol`ko kalanchi mne seychas ne hvatalo...*" - The beanpole... just what I needed

Prazdnik - holyday, celebration

[moviestarmartini]

Since you are open to writing about Brahim 🤭imagine Jude being a third wheel and always hanging out with you and Brahim, like the guy is never at his house 😭😭

three, that's the magic number! - brahim diaz x reader x platonic!jude bellingham

warnings: none, pure fluff. headcanon/bulleted format.

OKAY HE WOULD LOWKEY BE LIKE “i want what these bitches have” BUT LET ME NOT GET AHEAD OF MYSELF HERE 

now playing... the magic number by de la soul

you’d heard of Jude but came to meet him in a dinner Brahim had organized with him and Arda. 

you’d noticed the way Jude stared in awe at the two of you whenever you interacted, even if it was just Brahim taking short glances, his face softer than ever. 

it started off with Brahim asking if you could pick up Jude on the way to training, not wanting the younger man to take a taxi there again 

the way the three of you could start a conversation and flow felt nice, singing along to some songs that Brahim had queued.

Jude often asked what the songs said, or what a word either of you said meant. you found endearing how he was really trying with spanish

Jude then started getting dropped off at your shared place to be driven to training by you two— getting all pouty when Brahim was the one driving, not you.  

“Is this what abandonment feels like?” He would joke, but still wished you the best on your way out to work. 

then it was the fact Brahim took it upon himself to teach the englishman the do’s-and-don’ts of Madrid. 

you took Jude everywhere, all your favorite spots, doing your best to avoid large crowds to not draw attention to yourselves. 

“You’re in luck, she’s the best tour guide ever.” Brahim bragged about you to Jude, as he did to anyone who would listen.  

he was just so so proud of every you know and done, he can’t help himself. 

you knew a lot about the historic places you saw even when just passing by car, telling Jude every detail and fun fact you had in store in that brain of yours.

he listened attentively, also noticing the way Brahim would look at you with the tiniest smile behind his lips.  

“See? I’ve got myself the smartest cookie. Eres la más inteligente de todo España, mi habibati.” Brahim would coo after you were done explaining, reaching to cup your face and stroke your cheekbone with his thumb as you nodded slowly, cheeks flushed. 

soon, however, candid pictures of you hanging out were released to the public. 

the reactions varied from people adoring the pair you and Brahim made and how tall Jude was compared to the two of you but always followed behind as if he was your child. 

by that point he’d already taken your flat as his favorite hang out spot, more often than not you found Jude playing FIFA or board games with Brahim after coming home from work.

“Get a room.” Jude would complain at your cuddling and kissing, Brahim brushing the spiky facial hair against the length of your neck only to hear the giggles that made his chest swell 

“Jude, you’re the one who’s in our room.” you deadpanned with a yawn, the two men bursting down in laughter. 

but at the end of the day, he felt like another member of your family— just like abi Arda did, but that’s a story for another day. 

and you were so glad Brahim could reintegrate back into the team flawlessly. 

at one of the games you sat in the VIP balcony at the bernabeú with a good chunk of the players— all out on injuries, including Jude, who went straight to you as he noticed you walk in. 

you two commented on the game as if that was your actual job, feeling every second and emotion. 

you also noticed how Jude looked at you every time you celebrated Brahim doing things right— it could only be described as admiration.

 Jude had to leave when the game was itching its end, having to stand with the other injured players, leaving you with Denise.  

you introduced yourself quickly, and you noticed how she perked up. 

“Lovely to meet you, but can you give me my son back? Or do I need to pull out some adoption papers for you two?” she laughed, soon telling you how much he talked about both you and Brahim, and the relationship you shared. 

you couldn't help but laugh, "Really? I think I have a pen in my purse, hold on–" you joked, but feeling proud... why? because everyone could clearly see how much you loved Brahim.

and they could also see, clear as day, how much he loved you too.

[usernameforaboredcat]

Favorite Pretty Boys (Ace X F!Reader X Yamato)

Poly!Ace & Poly!Yamato In Modern!AU <3

Warnings: People stunking, incel behaviour, slight homophobia and transphobia, don't worry wholesome ending

Just a simple, cute, wholesome day out with your two sweet loving boyfriends.

"Damn it!". Soft noise of music plays in the room with scurrying, a young woman running around her room looking for something cute to wear. She's already done her hair and makeup, just needing an outfit. A loud honk makes her jump, running over the window to see Aces truck. The back window opens, Yamato climbing out with his fists in the air. "(Y/N)! WE'RE HERE!". He calls. "Ah shit". She mutters. She runs to her closet, grabbing a random dress with matching shoes and quickly slipping them on. Grabbing her purse with her phone, keys and wallet in it, rushing out her house.

She locks the door behind herself, walking to the car. "(YYY/NNN)!". Yamato cheers happily. Ace turns to look out the window with his arm hanging out. He wolf whistles when he sees (Y/n), smirking. "Hey there hot stuff! You single?". He asks in a joking manner. "Sorry handsome, I have a boyfriend! Two actually". She jokes back, walking over to the other side and climbing into the car. "Hey (Y/n)! Look how pretty you look today!". Yamato compliments, leaning from the back seat into the front and hugging her. "Aw, thank you Yamato! You two don't look too bad yourselves". She tells the two, pecking the very tall males cheek.

(Y/n) then looks to Ace. "So, where're we going today?". She asks him. "Yeah! You haven't told me either!". Yamato adds. "Well I thought we'd go to the mall, go to the arcade, and for lunch we go to this new restaurant that opened up and I just so happen to know someone who works there". Ace explains with a cocky smirk on his face. "Really!?". Yamato asks him. "Yep". He simply answers. "That's so sweet!". "Thank you Ace!". He gets jumped by his boyfriend and girlfriend, getting smothered with kisses. "Okay okay! I love you two too, but we should head off". He tells the two. "Okay!". (Y/n) and Yamato agree, sitting properly in their respective seats.

~

All the three can hear is the bustling noise of the mall, filled with the sounds of people talking, stores playing music, and shoes hitting the ground. The three walk hand in hand, Ace being sandwiched in the middle of his short girlfriend and his tall boyfriend. As the three walk, Yamato couldn't help but notice the whispers coming from people looking at them. His glare causes a few people to shut up, only a few. He looked over to look at Ace and (Y/n), seeing the two talking happily to each other as (Y/n) has her arms wrapped around and body pressed against his body. He decided to just ignore the on lookers and to just enjoy his time with the two shorties he loves.

~

"Come on come on!". Ace grumbles, moving the leaver and pressing the button. The claw goes down, grabbing a plush of a capybara and raises it up. Before the three can cheer, the claw drops the toy. "Aw man! Fuck off!". Ace snaps, kicking the machine. "Hey its fine, really". (Y/n) reassures him, stroking his arm. "Here! Let me try". Yamato slots in a coin, giving the machine a go. The two boyfriends felt the undying need to get the toy for their girlfriend, especially since she gushed over it as soon as she laid eyes on them. "Pfft, like you'll get it. Those stupid things are rigged as he-". "Yeah baby!". Yamato cheers, causing Ace to shut up.

He looks to see (Y/n) bend over and pull the capybara plush out the machine, holding it up like a monkey holding up a baby lion with the biggest grin and stars in her eyes. "Thank you Yamato! It's so cute! You're the best boyfriend!". She says happily, standing on her tippy toes and pecking him on the cheek. Yamato puffs his chest out and flexes his arms up. "Best boyfriend!". Yamato cheers happily. Ace chuckles as he looks at the two, loving how cute they look right now. His smile drops when he sees two guys pointing and laughing at the two, not even trying to hide their bullying.

He's a guy, he knows the types of guys who'd be way too open about their thoughts and opinions in public. Especially with Yamato identifying as male but from afar it looks like a lesbian relationship. He expected as much when getting into a relationship with the two. He just stares at the guys, the two limp noodles shutting up and walking away. He also expected that, if they where the type of guys he thought with being an incel or homophobic/transphobic than they'd just skedaddle away when getting eye scolded by a tall hot buff dude. He just turns to look back at his girlfriend and boyfriend, mustering up a smile.

~

As the day starts to end, the three walk into a new restaurant. Ace smiles as he walks faster into the room, a blonde walking up to him with a smile and the two happily shake hands. "Sanji! How you doing my man!?". He greets the blonde happily. "I'm good I'm good! And uh, who are those two beauties with you?". Sanji asks with a smirk, looking at the "two women" who are holding hands and chatting. "Them? The cute shortie is my girlfriend (Y/n), tall and hot is my boyfriend Yamato". Ace answers. Sanji makes an 'o' face, nodding. "Lucky man lucky man". He chuckles. "Your table is table 7, take a seat and you'll be served shortly". Sanji then tells him, remembering that he's at work and he can't just stand around and chat with his friend. Well friends friend but what ever.

"Babe! Sweetheart! Come on, I got us a table". Ace tells the two, turning to look at them. They two smile happily at each other, them walking over to join the other boyfriend. The three walk over to the table that the waiter assigned them, taking a seat at the circled table. (Y/n) notices a slight uneased feeling from the other two, she speaks up. "Are you two okay? Did something happen before you two picked me up?". She asked. Yamato and Ace turn to each other, seeing each others matching concerned face. "You noticed too?". Ace asks him. "Hmh, yeah". Yamato confirms. "Notice what? Oh God am I pregnant!? Is Yamato pregnant!? IS ACE PREGNANT!?". She asks in shock. "I'm not pregnant you idiot! No one is pregnant!". Ace snaps at her. "It's just...we both seem to noticed whispers and looks from people because of...well...". "Us". Yamato finishes.

(Y/n) frowns a brow at their words. "Whispers and looks?". She asks. "People pointing and saying stuff about us". Yamato answers. "Dickheads saying stuff about you two". Ace adds his own answer. (Y/n) lets out a chuckle, raising her eyebrow. "And?". She asks. "Who cares?". She asks. "Y-You don't care?". Yamato asks. "You're the most emotional person out of the three of us and you don't care?". Ace asks. "So what if I am? Yes I'm an emotional person but my emotions care more about you two, and being happy with you two". (Y/n) explains. "You two are my pretty boys, as long as we're all happy than who cares? Who cares if we get judged, we're adults and can make our own choices about our love life and sex life. I love you both, and that's all I care about". She adds. The two boyfriends look at each other, than laugh happily to each other. "What did we expect?". Ace asks him. "Yeah, we should have expected something like that from her". Yamato adds.

(Y/n) pouts, crossing her arms. "Well sorry for being honest with my feelings and thinking that it would help you two feel less upset about getting judged". She groans, rolling her eyes. "Hey hey hey, we love you two (Y/n) and we appreciate you doing that". Ace explains. "Just thought ya might cry". Yamato adds. "What? Oh shut up no I wouldn't". (Y/n) snaps. "Munchkins, you cried the other day because of a video of pufferfish". Yamato reminds her. "They looked so stupid and goofy I love them!". (Y/n) snaps back, a little whimper in her voice from remembering the video. "Whatever, we're out right now. Let's just enjoy our date and have a good time". She tells them. "Yeah you're right, especially since Sanjis cooking is by far fantastic". Ace tells them two. "I sure hope so! I'm staaaaaarving!". Yamato whines. "I'm actually quite thirsty, I think we should order now". (Y/n) suggests, the two nodding.

What a fun day with the boyfriends.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello 👋

Could you please do 'dating him includes' for Taehoon and Seongjoon?

Thank you so much 🥰

Black Anon 🖤🖤

Hey Black anon! Thanks for the ask and so sorry this has taken so long. I feel like all I'm doing is apologising because everything is taking me friggin AGES. There's also a few boyfriend HC for Taehoon in my masterlist, but I've expanded this to all my HTF faves! Yes I'm a ho

HTF Boys - Boyfriend/Dating hc

Seong Taehoon, Baek Seongjun, Ji Yeonwoo, Han Wangguk, Kim Munseong (WHERE IS HE I MISS HIM)

Seong Taehoon

Man. The girlfriend privileges are severely lacking with this one. He's a little sweeter on you, a little gentler. But he sees no issues being a menace to you.

Absolutely loves getting you all wound up, murmuring obscene comments during the most inopportune times, or a little light spanking when no-one is looking. Sure Taehoon intends to make good on his words and actions later, but there is nothing like seeing your face redden or hearing a squeak escaping your lips right now.

It's even worth the filthy looks you throw his way, or any subsequent silent treatment. He knows you can never stay mad at him anyway.

Taehoon's physical affection is more on the end of physical rather than affection. There's nothing like a little bite or a headlock or just pinning your arms by your side as he holds you to show how much he cares.

Surprisingly amicable to being dragged all over the place with you. Yes he would prefer the arcade or practicing Taekwondo, but even if he is completely reluctant - seeing your face light up is its own special reward. And of course that would be too cringe for him to ever admit outloud.

Baek Seongjun

Prefers flings and short encounters rather than a relationship. He comes with a lot of trauma and history that he is unwilling to share. Show him kindness though without any ulterior motive, then you're guaranteed to stay on his mind.

Has a lot of experience sexually, but not with relationships. Cherishes experiencing a lot of first milestones with you (regardless of your own experience). Celebrates them all: anniversaries, 100 days, Valentine's etc.

Difficult to publicly date due to his NewTuber fame. He's well recognised by a surprising amount of people, so any dates tend to be on the chilled and private side.

And of course cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. More so if you join him in the kitchen, and you cook together. You both flowing together as one, moving in harmony. It makes Seongjun think of how well you can fit in other ways too (no, not just sexually - that's already well established that you do). But with the rest of your lives too.

Values cold hard cash as power, and therefore has gift-giving as one of his main love languages. You will be showered with tasteful, lavish gifts. A tender kiss and appreciative thanks from you is all he needs, and is enough to balance out the scales.

Ji Yeonwoo

Only admired you from afar before he finally broke the chains from his dad and had much more freedom.

Again, not one with any experience though Yeonwoo is honest and forthright. Doesn't shy away from asking you out, and is full of sincerity. However, doesn't give much thought to what happens next - he wanted to tell you how he felt more than anything. You saying yes? Unfortunately that broke his brain.

Dating Yeonwoo means you improving your physical fitness somewhat. Completely on accident, but he spends so much time honing his kyokushin karate skills that you thought you would try and join. More often than not, it's just you watching in awe or him piggybacking you on his runs uphill.

Honestly, being with him helps a lot for your own self improvement. Your grades also improves by a ton as a byproduct. Yeonwoo actually makes studying fun and has limitless patience even as you make him explain something for the fifth time.

Unbelievably sweet and gentle through and through. Not that you would, but one complaint from you about anything and he will happily put that right. More attention? More kisses? Less time training? Done, done, and done.

Han Wangguk

A natural caretaker, always anticipating your needs before you even knew yourself. Here's a snack for you, here's that book you wanted, here's a coffee because you said you were tired today.

Goes without saying that he prefers small and thoughtful gestures to big, grand ones. Show him how much you care by remembering the little details: asking about the things he mentioned offhandedly or buying that tiny thing he wanted, and he will be forever wrapped around your thumb.

Extremely selfless and not one to put himself first. Repay his thoughtfulness and kindness by helping him to prioritise his own needs and you will always hold a piece of his heart.

Never too far from his camera, either his actual equipment or phone, and all the better to capture pictures of you. You posing is nice, but there's nothing quite like snapping a moment when you don't expect it. When you're completely candid and natural, before any consciousness of knowing a lens is there.

Of course with Wangguk comes Gyeoul. She's an absolute terror and will bound to clash at first with any partner. She's not used to sharing. But the little smiles Wangguk now always wears? The way he has even started whistling? Fine, Gyeoul can tolerate you she supposes. Honestly though? Another older sibling to dote on and spoil her? She'll love you in the end too.

Kim Munseong

Silent and stoic. He's a man of very few words, and to be honest, you didn't even realise he liked you until you found him always hanging around you and you confronted him yourself.

Shy and inexperienced, with very little game. If anything, it only makes Munseong even more charming and endearing. You'll be the one making a lot of the first moves until he is comfortable enough to take your lead.

Juggles a lot of the time between MMA and training, and you. It's to be expected, he's got a lot of eyes on his fighting career. Please keep supporting him, he feels a lot of guilt that he's not able to be at your constant beck and call, which is frankly a little ridicuous anyway.

Nothing perks him up more than seeing you watch him during a spar or an actual match. Finding your face in the crowd, even if completely unexpected, flicks on a little power-up for him. He wants to make you proud, and it pretty much guarantees a win.

Munseong has always been praised for his strength. Showering him with praise and compliments for literally any other aspect will guarantee him blushing furiously.

[eviesaurusrex]

“15. finding excuses to be alone with each other” With Bucky Barnes 🥰

I always do this too but then I get really nervous when it actually happens 😂

I never did that, but it sounds so bloody sweet. I hope you like with what I came up!

Bucky Barnes x (implied) Stark!Reader (sorry)

warnings: fluff, maybe some anxiety and intrusive thoughts by our baby boy, short mention of mind-reading abilities

word count: 1.5k

***

The team—consisting of Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky—had just returned from their mission in the snowy depths of Poland, still partially in their tactical gear, heavy duffle bags thrown over their shoulders or tiredly carried in their hands. Bucky felt as if he could sleep for hours if he hit the bed any time soon, and even thought the nightmares wouldn’t plague him as much as they usually used to, but he couldn’t fool himself that much. Instead, he dreaded the return to the empty bedroom he called his ever since joining his best friend and being out of rehab. He would much more prefer it if he could grab one of the books neatly stacked on the bookshelf—the only furniture, other than his closet, really in constant use—and make himself comfortable in the lounge or in the labs with…—

As the thought struck him, not really out of the blue because he was constantly thinking about her, Bucky stopped in his tracks and made Sam almost run into him on his way to his own room on their shared floor. “What the…? Could you please not randomly stop in front of my face?!” The brooding soldier didn’t even spare a glance at the complaining man in his back, who got on his nerves on a daily basis and let the duffle bag fall from his left shoulder as if suddenly pummeled by almost excruciating pain.

Steve had turned at the commotion in his back, eyes swiftly moving over the two men he considered his closest friends, before taking Bucky in, who now had even grabbed the base of his freshly crafted metal arm and let his shoulder slowly but steadily rotate. “You alright, Buck?” The brunet felt awful for worrying Steve in such a matter, knowing how the blond tended to be the mother hen of the entire group, always looking out for each and everyone, but he couldn’t help himself. So, he shrugged with the unharmed shoulder, fingers still closed around the metal covered by the rigid fabric of his combat jacket. “Not sure. Felt it earlier too. Probably should get that checked out,” Bucky muttered and attempted to gather the bag from the floor, but Steve was fast to stop him. “I got this, pal. Go and let someone take a look at it, but I need their approval to let you back in the field.”

With that, the blond soldier grabbed his bag and continued his way while Sam threw him a suspicious look as he walked past him, following the whispering and gossiping rest. He didn’t bother to listen in on them and instead turned back to where he came from and entered the labs next to the landing pad with the best view over the lake after a swipe of his keycard. The music, which had played until the glass door opened in front of him, stopped as soon as he stepped into the spacious room, equipped with the best of the best—at least, he assumed it because he didn’t know a single thing by name or function in his line of sight.

Tranquility found its way into his constantly working and often haunted mind, letting the tension in his shoulders disappear like snow at the sight of spring’s first sunshine, and he finally was able to take a deep breath, even before his eyes found a messy mop of hair peeking between screens and equipment.

“If you think you need to drag me out for another unnecessary father-daughter lunch date, you can immediately turn on the spot and move your ass out of here agai—…”

Her sentence ended as she looked up and saw him standing in the middle of her sacred space instead of her father. Bucky could see how her eyes widened a fraction, only a second, before a radiant smile crept onto her already pretty face. “James,” YN greeted him with the same tone she always used when talking to him—always so incredibly soft as if he was something precious she needed to protect. He didn’t think he was or that he even deserved an ounce of her kindness and gentleness, but he couldn’t keep his distance either.

“Hey, doll.” The nickname had started to slip naturally some time ago, but gladly, YN never seemed to hold any objections against it. Quite the opposite because he could always hear her heartbeat increasing while her cheeks blushed adorably. He could witness it just now, and that made him smile the first genuine smile since going on that mission. “What can I do for you? Is everything alright?” He remembered again with what excuse he had found his way into her presence and nodded, shame practically swirling in his body. “Uhm… I think something isn’t right with-with the arm,” Bucky managed to get out and felt even more ashamed at the sight of worry creeping up into her mesmerizing eyes, which had captured him since she first had laid them on him. “Oh, fuck. Okay, okay. We’ll get this fixed, yeah? I’m so sorry if it hurts or if the mission was at risk or if it troubled you or—…”

YN only stopped her rambling apology the moment she had reached him, and Bucky had gotten a soft hold of her hand. “It’s alright, doll. Really. Everyone came back without a scratch.” Except for your mind, the voice inside his head tauntingly whispered, but her touch was fast to silence it again. “Well, okay. Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you wear it without running some last tests after the transport from Wakanda.” The soldier followed her lead and tenderly squeezed her fingers, still entangled with his, as he sat on the chair she pulled out for him. “Actually, it’s nothing major. Probably have to still get used to it.”

It was a masterpiece she had crafted for him with the assistance of Shuri and the Wakandan materials, reminding him once more why he didn’t deserve this woman.

Her soft hands helped him out of his combat gear, leaving him with a bare chest in her labs, making him almost regret it. Bucky never liked it when she saw the many ugly scars and the deformed tissue that once was his left shoulder. But the moment her gentle fingers started to trace along the edge of his new arm where it was connected to the new prosthetic head, those thoughts almost entirely vanished, and his mind was only able to capture every angle and every expression of her face as she started to do her work.

“It looks good, great even. Almost… perfect.” Her whispering voice sounded as if YN was in a trance as her eyes wandered over every inch of his shoulder and the arm now resting in her hands, making him feel every single touch. “How’s the haptic feedback? Can you still feel…this?” He tried to look, but with a laugh, YN stopped him from moving his head by cupping his chin with her fingers. “No, don’t look. That’s not how those questions work. Your brain would tell you you feel something even if it’s not the case,” she grinned while Bucky thought his heart would explode every second at the even closer proximity of their faces.

At least he knew he wasn’t the only one realizing it, and a grin started to tuck at his lips. “Again. Do you feel this?” YN started to trace indecipherable patterns on his arm’s black and gold-infused vibranium, letting shiver after shiver run down his spine. “I never was good at guessing letters written on me,” the soldier mumbled, eyes almost entirely closed, imagining the sight of her fingertips tracing his arm wrapped around her middle in the morning light. “That’s okay.” Her words were just as quiet as his, and the sudden feel of her soft, warm lips pressing a gentle kiss to his temple made him gasp for air like some kind of unkissed boy whose crush took the first step in their own hands. His eyes shot open, and Bucky was faced with YN’s face and a tender smile playing around her lips. “You could’ve told me that nothing really was amiss, you know? I’m the last person who’d judge. I thought we already went past that.”

Swallowing, Bucky shrugged his shoulders and took the black shirt out of her hands after YN had handed it to him. “Steve said he would need your approval so I thought… No, wait. I didn’t really think. I’m… Shit, I’m sorry, doll.” Now he felt even worse than upon entering her safe space and bothering her with his nonsense, but as both her hands cupped his neck, he couldn’t hold back and wrapped his hands around her tiny-seeming wrists. “You never need to apolgize for coming here, James. I love your company. You’d never be a bother or a hassle or a nuisance, so stop thinking that.”

His eyes widened at that last comment, and YN shrugged, an embarrassed expression settling on her face. “It’s harder for me to shut your or anyone’s thoughts out when they trip into that direction. Sorry for prying and invading, and—…”

He shut her up by taking a leap of faith and kissed her.

***

Send me prompts!

[yandere-daze]

hey hi! is it okay to request hcs for yandere tatsumi x a reader who loooves drawing him? and how would he react? thank you!

Of course! Tatsumi is a wonderful character ^^ Now, it´s actually been a while since I last wrote something for enstars if I´m not mistaken, so I´m sorry if I´m a bit rusty!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, worshipping of reader, religious themes ( talks of god, comparing reader to an angel), brief mention of death and implied burial in the end (it´s not actually important to the story or something that actually happens. )

Yandere! Tatsumi reacting to a darling that loves drawing him

It´s no secret that Tatsumi greatly admires you and everything you do. He treasures every single smile you send his way, every word you speak to him. You are utterly divine in his eyes, an angel sent by god himself to walk this earth.

Oh how blessed he feels, being alive at the same time as you and being allowed to breathe the same air. There is no doubt in his mind that you are an angelic being deserving of praise and worship and so much more.

Everything you touch is a masterpiece, so Tatsumi is utterly enchanted when he sees you draw something for the very first time.

He hadn´t intended to walk in on you while you were deep within your creative process, he had simply meant to check up on you to make sure that you were feeling alright. And of course he had already started missing you after a short while of being away from you, but he vowed to restrain that part of himself.

Nevertheless, he had found you hard at work, staring at your work-in-progress in full concentration. He didn´t dare say anything, afraid that he might accidentally break your focus if you did.

No, whatever you were drawing deserved to be brought into this world in all its glory, ready to be admired by every person that happens to look upon it.

So Tatsumi took this rare opportunity to simply admire your form. What he adored most about you was certainly your personality, it´s what made him fall in love with you in the first place, but he would be a heathen to ignore how wonderful you looked as well.

To say he was surprised when he managed to catch a glance of the piece you were working on was an understatement.

You were drawing him.

It was unmistakable. At once, Tatsumi felt as if an arrow had shot right through his heart as he felt it wildly thumping in his chest. Oh how lovely you were, to dedicate this drawing to him of all people! What had he done to receive this great blessing? Your kindness truly knew no bounds!

Stuck in blissful reverie, Tatsumi promptly gathers his thought again and then slowly makes his way over to you with a gentle smile on his face, still utterly awestruck and full of love for you.

He had vowed to not interrupt you but seeing that you were drawing him, he felt obligated to properly praise and thank you for your work. It was truly moving!

Tatsumi really couldn´t believe his luck, he would be very flattered and encouraging if you were to ask him for his permission to keep drawing him. You know he could never deny you but especially not when you would do something so kind for him!

If you were to gift him your drawing, he would be beyond grateful and would make sure to cherish it as it deserves. He stores it somewhere in his room, either keeping it in a secret hidden box or proudly displaying it on his wall. He both wants to keep it safe but also display it for the entire work to see. Everyone should learn how truly divine and awe-inspiring you were!

But he´d still prefer to be your greatest worshipper in the end.

You wouldn´t really notice just what big of an effect your drawing had on Tatsumi, he was acting as he normally would, very level-headed and kind. Tatsumi was very low-key when it came to his yandere tendencies and rather abnormal worshipping of you.

All you see is a gentle and comforting man that´s always there to lend a helping hand should you ever need it. Someone you can rely on.

But to him, you were something so much more. The sole light in his life, the embodiment of all that is good in the world. And he would cherish you forevermore until the day his body would be buried within the earth you walk upon.

[dcigar]

Agent Lewis. pt 1

Agent Lewis awoke with a start, his senses jolting awake as he found himself in a state of disorientation. His eyes fluttered open to a dimly lit room, his body feeling unnaturally heavy, every breath a laborious effort. Panic surged through him as he attempted to move, only to find himself confined by an unfamiliar weight pressing down upon him.

As he struggled to sit up, his hands groped for purchase on the surface beneath him, finding only the cool touch of bare skin. It was then that he realized he was completely naked, a wave of vulnerability washing over him. Frantically, his hands roamed across his body, encountering short, pudgy fingers where once there had been slender digits.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he glanced downward, only to be met with the sight of a massive belly protruding from his abdomen. It heaved with each labored breath, making it difficult for him to draw in air. His heart pounded in his chest as he grappled with the reality of his transformation.

Gone was the lean, tall, agile frame of Agent Lewis. In its place stood a short, stout figure, the reflection of which stared back at him from the window. Male pattern baldness had claimed his once-full head of hair, leaving only a sparse ring of graying strands around the edges. But atop his upper lip, a thick, graying mustache now adorned his face, adding to the weight of his new identity.

He felt dwarfed by his own body, the once-familiar contours now alien and unfamiliar. This was not what he had expected. The magnitude of the transformation hit him like a ton of bricks, leaving him reeling with disbelief. He had known that assuming a new identity would come with its challenges, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The weight of his new form bore down on him, both physically and mentally, threatening to crush his resolve.

And yet, amidst the turmoil, a new sensation stirred within him. A craving, deep and insistent, tugged at the corners of his consciousness, yet unsure and not recognizable. The thought of it filled him with a strange sense of comfort, a reminder of the role he was now meant to inhabit.

But as he sat up in the recovery room bed, his vision still blurry from the aftermath of his transformation, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease when his gaze fell upon the familiar yet indistinct figure staring back at him through the window. Who was this person? Try as he might, he couldn't quite grasp the identity of the individual beyond the glass. It was a disconcerting mystery that added another layer of complexity to an already overwhelming situation.

Still, Agent Lewis was not one to succumb to despair. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pushed aside his doubts and focused on the task at hand. He may have been transformed into someone unrecognizable, but his determination remained unshaken. This was his most deep cover mission yet, and he was determined to see it through to the end, no matter the cost.

As Agent Lewis continued to explore his new body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief at the extent of the transformation. Gone were the familiar contours of his 25-year-old physique, replaced by a rounder, thicker form that seemed almost foreign to him. He was 18 inches shorter. His once-toned back and long, lean legs were now a distant memory, obscured by the bulk of his swollen stomach and the presence of prominent man boobs. He attempted in vain to locate his penis amidst the folds of flesh, only to find it obscured by his burgeoning belly.

Running his hands over his newly acquired features, Agent Lewis felt the stubble of his thickening mustache and the smoothness of his bald scalp. He couldn't help but miss the cascade of hair that used to adorn his head, now lost to him in the transformation. Despite his initial shock and discomfort, a sense of awe crept over him as he marveled at the skill of the doctors and the precision of the procedures that had brought about his drastic metamorphosis.

Embracing his new identity as an Italian mobster, Agent Lewis found himself craving the trappings of power and luxury that came with his new persona. He yearned for the feel of fine silk suits against his skin, the heady aroma of thick cigars wafting through the air, and the sense of authority that came with being a respected member of the criminal underworld.

As Agent Lewis continued to explore his new body, he couldn't help but notice the peculiar sensation of his mustache brushing against his lips with each breath. It had grown so long that it moved rhythmically with his respiration, causing an unusual tickling sensation that he found oddly satisfying. No longer able to breathe through his nose as easily as before, he had become a mouth breather by necessity, the mustache serving as a constant reminder of his altered physiology.

At first, the sensation was disconcerting. The feeling of his own facial hair tickling his lips was foreign and somewhat intrusive. But as he adjusted to this new way of breathing, Agent Lewis began to appreciate the sensation in a different light. It was a reminder of the meticulous attention to detail that had gone into his transformation, from the length of his mustache to the shape of his belly. It was these subtle nuances that would help him blend seamlessly into the world of the Italian mob.

Running his fingers through the length of his mustache, Agent Lewis couldn't help but marvel at its density and texture. It was a far cry from the smooth, clean-shaven look he had been accustomed to, but there was a ruggedness to it that he found appealing. As he experimented with different styles and shapes, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his newfound appearance. He was no longer just Agent Lewis; he was Vinny Capone, a formidable figure in the criminal underworld.

However, amidst the discovery of his new identity, Agent Lewis noticed another sensation stirring within him—a craving for cigars. This was entirely new to him. The thought of the thick, pungent smoke curling around him filled him with an inexplicable desire. It was a craving that seemed to emanate from deep within, urging him to indulge in the vice of his new persona.

Suddenly, the door opened, and his handler, disguised as a mobster, entered the room. "Welcome back, Agent Lewis, or shall I say Vinny Capone," his handler greeted him with a wry smile. "What do you think of your transformation? Let's get you a robe, your glasses, and a mirror. It's time to fully embrace your new persona." With a nod of agreement, Agent Lewis rose from the bed, ready to take on the challenges that lay ahead with his newfound identity as Vinny Capone, and perhaps, a thick cigar in hand.

As Agent Lewis, or rather the persona he was being molded into, Vinny Capone, greeted his handler, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. "Did he just call me Vinny Capone?" he thought, a tinge of disbelief coloring his thoughts. "No, I can't be Vinny. I would never have agreed to this."

His handler, sensing his confusion, handed him a robe and explained the situation. "You are Vinny Capone now," his handler said firmly, meeting his gaze with a steady look. "I didn't tell you before because I knew Agent Lewis would never agree to this. But Vinny Capone is a necessary disguise for this mission. You have to become him, live as him, if we're going to take down the mob from the inside."

The weight of his new identity settled heavily on Agent Lewis's shoulders as he processed the revelation. He was being thrust into a role he had never anticipated, a role that went against everything he stood for. But as he looked into his handler's eyes, he knew there was no turning back.

With a silent nod of acceptance, Agent Lewis donned the robe and followed his handler out of the room, his mind racing with the challenges that lay ahead. He may have been unwillingly transformed into Vinny Capone, but he was determined to use this new identity to dismantle the criminal empire from within, even if it meant sacrificing a part of himself in the process.

As Agent Lewis stood up, feeling the weight of his new body pressing down on him, he realized the enormity of the task ahead. Walking when 18 inches shorter, 40 years older, and carrying this much weight was a challenge unlike any he had faced before. But if he was going to live convincingly as Vinny Capone, he knew he had to start studying his movements and mannerisms.

Steadying himself against a nearby surface, Agent Lewis took a moment to accept his new reality. He may have been unwillingly thrust into this role, but he was determined to make the most of it. Unable to speak as his vocal cords continued to heal from the transformation process, he knew that actions would speak louder than words in his new life as Vinny.

As he began to move around the room, he couldn't help but notice the familiarity in his movements. Despite the drastic physical changes, there was a certain fluidity to his motions that felt oddly natural. It was as if his body already knew how to inhabit this new persona, as if Vinny Capone's essence was already coursing through his veins.

With each step, Agent Lewis felt himself growing more accustomed to the weight of his new body. He may have been shorter, older, and heavier than before, but he was determined to make it work. If he was going to convincingly infiltrate the world of organized crime as Vinny Capone, he knew he would have to become him in every sense of the word. And so, with a silent resolve, he set out to master the art of living as someone else, all while plotting to bring down the very man he was now masquerading as.

As Agent Lewis prepared for the next phase of his transformation – memory conversion – he knew that he had to make the most of the time he had left before the procedure. It would take a couple more days before he could undergo the process, and in the meantime, he was determined to master his new body. But he had a growing and increasing craving which he was unable to shake.

Agent Lewis was Spending his days reading everything he could get his hands on about the Italian mob and studying Vinny Capone's mannerisms, Agent Lewis also spent a significant amount of time staring at himself in the mirror. Despite the initial shock, he had grown somewhat accustomed to his short stature, the sensation of his mustache itching his lip (which he oddly loved), and the constant reminder of his large belly.

However, as the days passed, a new sensation began to gnaw at him – the craving for a cigar. It started as a subtle longing, but with each passing hour, it intensified, until his head began to pound with the desire for a smoke. It was a craving that he couldn't ignore, a physical manifestation of the transformation he had undergone and the persona he was now inhabiting.

As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, Agent Lewis knew that he would have to find a way to quell the craving before it consumed him entirely. But for now, he pushed aside his discomfort and focused on the task at hand, determined to master his new body and prepare himself for the challenges that lay ahead in his mission to infiltrate the world of organized crime as Vinny Capone.

Yet, with each passing day, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was becoming more like Vinny. His movements seemed more natural, his thoughts aligning with the mindset of a mob boss. It was as if his body was adapting to the persona he was meant to portray, merging seamlessly with the knowledge he had gained from his research.

Though initially unsettling, Agent Lewis allowed himself to embrace this transformation. He reasoned that it was a combination of his body adjusting to its new form and the extensive preparation he had undertaken. Whatever the reason, he knew that becoming more like Vinny would only serve to further his mission. And so, with a sense of determination and acceptance, he continued to immerse himself in the role, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As the day of the first memory transfer and brain alteration from Agent Lewis to Vinny approached, Agent Lewis couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension. What would he sound like once the procedure was complete? Would he adopt the accent and diction of Vinny Capone, further solidifying his new identity? These questions swirled in his mind as he prepared himself mentally for the transformation that awaited him.

Meanwhile, a tailor arrived to create custom suits for him, along with hats and walking sticks. Vinny even had custom boxers, a detail that seemed strangely intimate yet necessary for his new persona. As Agent Lewis watched the tailor take measurements and discuss fabric options, he couldn't help but marvel at the attention to detail that went into crafting Vinny's wardrobe. It was another reminder of the immersive nature of his new identity and the lengths to which he was willing to go to maintain his cover.

As the tailor finished his measurements and left to begin work on the suits, Agent Lewis felt a sudden surge of longing for a cigar. It had been building within him for days, a relentless craving that he could no longer ignore. With a sense of urgency, he signaled for a cigar, unable to bear the wait any longer.

When the cigar arrived, it was long, thick, an 8x80. Not sure how Agent Lewis knew that, as he had never smoked a cigar before. Nevertheless, he was given a humidor, with a smile - this was a sign the transition was successful - and lighter. Agent Lewis was not sure how to smoke the cigar; however, his body seemed to know. He surrendered to the body's memory and desire. With practiced ease, he prepared and lit the cigar as if he had smoked them for decades.

His handler, who had been observing the proceedings with keen interest, was thrilled by this development. To him, Agent Lewis signaling for a cigar was a sign of progress, a tangible indication that the transformation was taking hold. It was a sign that the doctors needed to see, proof that their procedures were having the desired effect.

As Agent Lewis accepted the cigar and took the first satisfying puff, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mingled with trepidation. The road ahead was still fraught with uncertainty, but in this moment, he allowed himself to savor the taste of victory, however fleeting it may be. With each puff of the cigar, he felt himself inching closer to becoming the man he was meant to portray – Vinny Capone, Italian mobster extraordinaire.

The day of the brain and memory alterations had finally arrived. As Agent Lewis prepared himself for the procedure, he steeled his resolve, knowing that this would be the final step in his transformation into Vinny Capone. He would receive memories of and from Vinny, allowing him to survive deep undercover, to live, to become him. He was ready.

When he woke from the memory transfer, there was a newfound confidence coursing through him. He felt as though he had lived a lifetime as Vinny, experiencing his triumphs and hardships firsthand. Memories flooded his mind: the warmth of a close Italian family, the ruthless path of becoming a mob boss, the deep-seated hatred for law enforcement, the indulgence in cigars and women, the love for fine clothes, and the allure of money.

But amidst these memories, Agent Lewis still retained a sense of self. He was still inside, a silent observer amidst the torrent of experiences that now defined him as Vinny Capone. It was a conflicting sensation, the clash of two identities vying for dominance within his mind. Yet, he knew that in time, the two sets of memories would merge and coalesce, creating a seamless tapestry of his new identity.

As he spoke for the first time since his transformation, Agent Lewis marveled at the sound of his own voice. It carried the accent and diction of Vinny, a testament to the success of the memory transfer. There was a shock in hearing himself speak in this new voice, yet there was also a strange comfort in it, as if he had always been meant to sound this way. Vinny had a unique diction and lisp, and Agent Lewis found himself replicating it flawlessly. "How did they do this?" he wondered, astounded by the precision of the alterations made to his mind and voice.

Moreover, he noticed that he was beginning to think in Italian. Vinny's language and mannerisms were becoming second nature to him, blending seamlessly with his own thoughts. It was as if he was truly becoming Vinny Capone in every sense of the word. With a mixture of awe and trepidation, Agent Lewis embraced his new identity, ready to embark on the mission that awaited him as the Italian mob boss, Vinny Capone.

As Agent Lewis awaited the final memory transfer that would complete his transformation into Vinny Capone, he found himself surrounded by the trappings of his new identity. His new suits had arrived, along with a motherlode box of cigars. He had already indulged in all of the previous cigars, despite never having smoked one before. Yet, it felt strangely natural for him, as if the act of smoking a cigar was encoded in his very being.

[copiousloverofcopia]

Hey there Ghesties!!!

Here is something a bit unexpected that literally just came pouring out of me after talking with my ghestie, @cardinal-copia-popia, and here it is for you all to enjoy as well...

ITS ALL ANGST in this one ghesties, no smut this time!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

All Just For Show

Papa Emeritus IV has reached the final show of the ReImperatour and you know what's coming next...

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below the cut!

The roar of the crowd was overwhelming as you stood quietly to the left of the stage. Your lips still warm from the touch of Papa’s kiss. Tears, pricking relentlessly at your eyes, as your chest tightened up against your breath. Everyone knew it was coming, and while you couldn't change it—it did not make it easier for you. 

“Did you really think we would leave you without a goodnight kiss?" Copia asked the crowd, ready to serenade them with his father’s song. You blinked and a single tear fell from the beads collecting on your lashes. Swallowing back the pain as you watched him, ever so magnificent on the stage. A presence that rivaled his brothers, and a voice that was nothing short of lustrous perfection. He was not only the people’s Papa, becoming so beloved among the fans, he was your Papa. 

As the song continued your heart began to race within your chest. Pounding behind your breast with the powerful thrust of an engine. The sweat collecting in the small of your back as you waited for the moment the music would begin to fade. The inevitable, drawing closer with each strum of the guitar and note sung. 

Then it happened—the moment came when Dew and Phantom’s guitars began to wane. Swiss dropping to the floor of the stage above them. Thrashing around and ripping at his helmet. Snarling at the crowd before turning his sights to Copia. 

The delicious ghoul reached into his vest and pulled from it a dagger. The blade, catching the lights from the rafters as he crept across the stage. The whole ritual audience, catching on as they stopped to watch in both horror and awe. Their screams and cheering, filling your ears like the screeching of banshees. The sound, causing your tears to spill faster now than you could ever hope to stop.

In one swift motion, Swiss pounced on Copia. Drawing back the dagger and driving it into him. Over and over in front of the crowd. The thick, rich spattering of blood covering the stage in a red glow. Your heart was broken, the scene shattering to all who also stood in the crowd—both of you powerless to change it. You clutched tight to the pillar beside you, hoping it would give you the strength to endure, but you were already crumbling inside.

It was no secret that your Papa’s demise was coming. The Ministry determined that Copia’s reign would end as all others before him, but now seeing it played out before you, was more than you could bear. Dropping to your knees, face buried in your hands, just as the crew pulled Copia’s body off to the side. A new song beginning to play as Bishop Mary Goore was led out onto the stage. Taking up the mic and bringing forth the new era of Ghost to the masses. Your stomach, turning as the crowd began howling and cheering once more. 

You began to tremble–your whole body shaking at what you had witnessed. The ache inside your chest, unlike anything you had ever felt before. The composure you held for yourself, now completely lost as you continued to sob. The tears falling to the ground—their sound cloaked by the music continuing to play. 

“Amore?” came a voice from behind you. A man standing in the darkness, revealed only for a moment by the quick passing of the spotlight.

“Cope?” you asked, watching as he ducked down beside you. Wiping his face of the smear of paints and sweat with a towel.

“Amore, what is wrong?” Copia asked you as he pulled you against his chest. Your breathing, slowing as you listened to the sound of his strong, still beating, heart.

“Oh Cope it was awful.” you cried against him, covering yourself in the faux blood that had been saturating his chest. Copia squeezed you tight, bringing his lips to the crown of your head. Kissing you and breathing in the scent of your hair.

“It was hard for me too, but we always knew this day would come…though I think Swiss may have enjoyed it too much.” he nervously chuckled, reminding you of things you already knew.

“I know but…”

“But what amore?” he asked, titling your chin up to face him. Staring into your eyes as if he could see the pain, you still felt deep down inside. 

“I never want to watch you die again!” you cried, Copia giving you a soft smile. Kissing you passionately as you melted into him. The warmth of his skin reminding you he was real. Alive and well, as he held you in his arms. The blubbering mess that you were, proving to him just how much he meant to you. When he released his lips from yours, he took in a deep breath before he continued to speak.  

“I know…I know…but it is time for the next guy and this is how it's done you know? They expect a performance…and amore…you know that after it’s all said and done, this was all just for show.” 

[stopthatnel]

red candy

switch!jean x switch!reader MDNI!

s: perhaps you were simply a stranger at a bar, or a longtime girlfriend trying out some new kinks. either way, jean can’t help but melt when he hears you call him stupid.

a/n: on todays episode of written porn… lmaoo hi guys i’ve been away for a while i hope y’all enjoy this (let me know if i should continue this 🥲)

cw: degradation, praise, pet names (stupid boy, slut, etc), light bondage. wc: 2.14k

m.list

for a night when jean was supposed to let loose, jean found himself bound. he couldn’t exactly trace the way he ended up in the position he was in, however he did not mind one bit. he could remember buying a pretty girl a pretty drink, only for her to slide the drink back towards him and take a sip of his old fashioned instead. a few drinks later, they’re in the hotel elevator heading up to his room. she had a fistful of his hair in her fist, his bottom lip between her teeth.

“are you sure you want to do this?” you ask him between a heated flurry of kisses. jean nods, practically desperate. it was usually him asking for confirmation, but you had much more dominating aura. one that screamed of security, as in you were someone who could keep a secret. “the safe word is ‘manhattan.’” you say, pulling away from the heated exchange. even though jean was taller than you, he felt small in your presence. even as your head tilted up to see his face, your heavy eyes felt belittling in the best way possible.

“manhattan, got it.” jean says. the elevator dings, slowly opening its clunky metal doors apart. you’re already ahead of him, short black dress rising above your thighs with each step you took. a shiny plastic card was held loosely in your hand, reflecting the bright lights. jean followed behind you like a puppy, grabbing at his pockets, unsure when you took the keycard off his person. thoroughly confused, but still impressed.

you’d walked into jean’s suite as if it was your own, leaving the door slightly cracked open for a too slow jean. as he walks in, he notices you’ve pulled a chair out to the center of the room and notices your figure gently on the armrest. he stood there silently, his slacks uncomfortably tighter than when he initially put them on. he watched as you stood up, your little black dress now practically classified as a mini. catching a glimpse of bright red in between your thighs as you walked over to him, his breath catches softly. feeling your hand over his stomach and wrapping around him, he couldn’t help but melt into your warmth.

jean stumbles as you push him forward, “stupid boys always need a lil’ push.” he hears you say. jean turns around to see a smirk dancing on your lips, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i- i wasn’t sure what—“

you laugh.

jean wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was supposed to do, not that he didn’t know usually. you said something about liking a man who listens, he’s recalling. something about you made him not just want to listen, but obey.

“awe, poor baby’s clueless.” you coo teasingly. you step towards him, pressing your breasts against his chest. “it’s okay, stupid boys like you are my favorite.” you purr, pushing him backwards. jean is stumbling once again as his shins hit the chair behind him, but your hand is already clutching the small of his back before he’d even get the chance to fall into the seat. he looked down to meet your eyes, face hotter than the sun. “t-thanks.” he says sheepishly.

a smile adorned your plump lips, stepping away from him and raising a brow. this time, jean got the hint. he sits down, shimmying his hips further down the chair and leaning into the cushion back. you reach your hand into the top of your dress, pulling out your phone. he watches as you tap away, music soon giving him an answer as to what you were doing. you toss your phone onto a side table nearby, pulling your hair out of the low pony you kept it in initially. he watches as your fingers run between each strand of hair, slowly dropping down to your neck, your chest, your breasts, your waist…

your hips swayed to the music, you looked as if you were in your own world. you paid no mind as the round of your rear became exposed, flashing your lover a flirty look over your shoulder when it did. jean’s hands grew clammy in anticipation. he wiped them on his thighs, inhaling sharply as his hands just grazed over the bulge in his pants. you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, taking in jean’s gaze gracefully. you rest your arms over his thighs and look up at him with a look that jean could have mistook for adoration.

“can you get my zipper for me, sweetheart?”

sweetheart.

it rolled off your tongue in a way that felt too good. he liked it, perhaps equally as much to when you were calling him stupid. he leaned down to reach your zipper, breath hitching when your arm shifts, your palm now cupping him through his pants. he pulls the metal down your back as you caress him. when you feel the zipper reaching the end of its line, you promptly pull away and stand back up. you didn’t want him getting too ahead of himself, right?

jean watches as you slip the thin dress straps over your shoulders, turning around and shimmying it down to your waist. you tilt your head to the side and say “strip.” without hesitation, jean begins to hastily unbutton his dress shirt. his eyes trail down the curve of your back, seeing the familiar red sitting on your hips as you teasingly tug the fabric down.

you turn back and focus on the room, eyeing around for any last minute props. you’d spot two robes hanging in the open closet door, abandoning a stripping jean to go gather what you needed.

as you're walking back, jean eyes you hungrily. he could make do without all this teasing it seemed. his cock looked trapped in his boxers, and what a day to be wearing gray. with your breasts bouncing as you walked back, your heels clicking with each bounce, jean could feel his mouth watering. he stares at the fabric you’d held in your hand, raising his brows in wonder.

your walk past him, and behind him once again. “sit.” you demand. jean complies, slowly putting the pieces together. you leaned into him and whisper in his ear;

“one more time for me baby boy, whats our safe word?”

“manhattan.”

you might not have done anything yet, but jean became breathless. he knew exactly where this was going, it excited him to think he was actually about to experience you like this. he smiles as he feels the soft cloth wrap over his eyes, tied snuggly. he hears your step back around him, your body now sitting in lap.

“get comfy.” you say softly. jean shifts his hips forward, biting his bottom lip as your bare ass presses against his cock. you grab his wrist and place it down onto the rest, taking an end of the tie and wrapping it underneath the wood and over his wrist. you tied it into a pretty bow, shifting over to his other wrist and repeating.

jean hears you giggle, then he feels your fingers trace over his jaw. you grind down into his lap, humming the song that played in the background, watching for his reaction.

“you know, a good boy is going to let me know if i make him feel good.” you say. you’re fluttering kisses down his neck now, hearing his breath hitch each time you take the supple skin between your teeth.

“i-it feels g-good.” jean stammers. when you pulled off him, jean suddenly felt cold. he can hear a bit of shuffling, then your hands on his bare thighs. “that's not what i meant…” you murmur. as coy as you played, seeing him tied up and expectant on you for relief had lit a fire in you. he looked so helpless, his swollen cock drooling in his boxers and no way for him to relieve himself. the slight power trip this gave you made your heart beat loudly, wanting to do absolutely anything to draw a reaction from him.

“what do you mean?” jean asks. he spoke quietly, as if he was trying to make up for the lack of sight with sound.

you pulled his cock out from his boxers, spitting onto its pink tip and closing your fist around it.

“ha- ah-”

“that. that’s what i mean. let me hear you.”you say, a smirk on your face. you move your fist up and down his shaft, spreading your saliva across its length. you felt his thick veins underneath your fingers, pressing down on them gently.

“oh fuck-“ jean groans, throwing his head back. he’d want nothing more than to watch you, how your lips stretched around his cock. “fuck, give me more, pleas-”

jean quickly felt warmth. he felt your tongue on the underside of his shaft and the head of his cock in the back of your throat. whatever wasn’t in your mouth was held in your hand. you audibly gagged around him, jean spreading his legs wider and rolling his hips into your mouth. you might not have been able to see jean’s eyes had rolling back, but you’d definitely hear the whine he’d let out as you gagged around him once more.

you pull up to give yourself a quick breath of air, catching the way jean’s hand twitched at your absence. glancing at his face quickly, you notice his bottom lip trembling a bit. you go back down again, swirling the head of his cock with your tongue. you flattened it against one of the thicker veins, slurping, spitting, hollowing your cheeks around him.

jean thought it was a myth, that losing a sense would make the others stronger. he stood corrected, your touch feeling like fire. each and every movement you made had him spiraling, his toes practically curling. who was he kidding, practically? they were.

jean’s balls grew heavy as you massaged them between your fingers. despite the fact that he already couldn’t see, he’d close his eyes. “fuck- slow down! m’gonna come if y’keep doing that.” he pants, chest glistening with sweat. you pull your mouth off of him and stroke his cock slowly, heeding his warning.

“you’re gonna come before you try the main dish?” you taunt. “i thought you weren’t a stupid boy?” you tease. “i-i’m not.” jean meekly defends himself. “it’s okay if you are,” your weight shifts from underneath him to on his lap. he feels your warm tongue drag across his nipple. he feels the heat from your mound on his cock, bucking his hips and emitting a low groan. “you can be my stupid boy,” you mutter as you move to the neglected nipple. “i just need you to be smart enough to fuck dumb.”

jean whines, furrowing his brows. “keep talking to me like that, i promise i’ll make you eat your words.” you laugh, wrapping an arm sound his neck. “i’d love to see you try, slut.” you shift to hover your bare cunt over his cock, dragging his sensitive tip between your folds. his hands grasp the arm rests tightly as he feels your slick coating him, his breathing becoming more labored.

“how about you untie me for a fair fight?” jean mutters. he’s sick of the teasing, his cock so swollen it almost hurt. but he couldn’t admit to that, not with how much the ache spurred him on. he’d want nothing more than to be bottomed out in your pretty pussy, watching your eyes close and nose scrunch up. listen to how you whine about how he’s so deep, how good he feels. hell, he’ll even take having his fingers buried in your snatch and your clit in his mouth. he wanted to make you squeal, he wanted to make you cry out of pleasure, he wanted his name to be the only word you’d remember.

alas, he was tied up. loosely at that, because he’s definitely checked. you’re the one laughing, though.

“i bet you really want me to, huh?” you say. jean feels your fingers at the nape of his neck, tangling themselves in his hair. he gasps as you tug his head back, kissing his adam’s apple. it bobbed underneath your lips, swiping your tongue across it.

“i bet you also want me to stop with all this teasing and just sit on your dick? is that right?”

“so you kno— hmmph-” jean’s moment of back talk was cut short quickly, your grip on his hair tightening and pulling back farther. “don’t get smart with me when you look this pathetic.” you hiss. he swallows thickly at your sudden change of tone.

“m’sorry… please do something, wan’ you real bad.” he pleads. so what if he was pathetic, you’ve been teasing him all night.

[azullumi]

Hii, I recently started following your blog and am absolutely in love with your writing! I'm in awe with how you both portray the characters and describe their feelings.

I wish you all the best in your academics!

What do you think about going on a first date with Kaveh?

summary — kaveh and his first date anxieties.

pairing — kaveh/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff, established relationship, not proofread ; headcanons

words — 920

note — i was supposed to have a different approach on this one but before i knew it, i ended up revolving everything on kaveh but then rereading the ask, i'm glad i did. but anyways! im glad that u love my writing, nonnieee <33 thank u so much for the sweet words and i hope you'll like this! i settled on headcanons so that its easier for me to write and convey the ideas haha

"Do you want to go out sometimes? Maybe for a meal? Oh, wait, I mean, uhh—I just thought it would be nice if we could see each other on days that we are free."

He was the one to initiate an invitation to go out with you even if he just said it out on a whim, a sudden slip of his tongue—as if he hasn't dreamt of taking you out to eat a meal together with you, walk around the city while maybe holding hands, watch the Zubayr Theater's performance for that day, and everything that he wishes.

He's nervous, extremely nervous and anxious. The usually confident and proud man has been reduced to nothing but a small figure of anxiety but honestly, who wouldn't be? Going out on a date with someone who they genuinely and sincerely like, who wouldn't feel uneasy? It was only just the starting point of your relationship and he's only just experiencing his every firsts with you and he wants to make each one of it special.

Even if he has everything already planned out—including the words that he will say and the route that you two will take as he just wants to make sure that everything will go right—he still feels skittish. What if something goes wrong? God, he just wouldn't be able to handle it. 

He spent days preparing for the event, the place that you two will have a meal on, what you will do afterwards, and the place of scenery he will take you to right before the day will end. In short, he's very attentive.

He'll also try on several outfits for the occasion, bringing out the clothing he kept hidden that are only to be used on important events. He just can't go out with you with the set of clothes he wears on a daily basis, can he? It's a special day, a date, to be exact.

Despite the feeling of fear and anxiety filling up his mind, he's still excited and looking forward to the day of the date. He ponders on what you would wear, how you will smile, how you will react upon seeing the things that he did and prepared for you, what will you say, and everything. It feels like falling in love and admiring you from afar all over again, as if he went back to the times wherein the two of you weren't still together and you were the only one in his mind as he wonders about every single thing about you—though it's not like he doesn't fall in love over and over again in his every day with you.

And then the day came. 

“Kaveh!” “Don’t run, (Name)!”

If he hadn’t been holding on to the thin thread of his sanity and balance, he would have fallen on his knees because of how weak he feels after seeing you dolled up. Expect to be showered with compliments and being flattered by him in every moment—he just could never get enough of how lovely and attractive you look and he wants you to know it.

He’ll proceed with the plans that he laid out for the day inside his head and though you couldn’t say that it went by smoothly, everything was definitely perfect and amazing for you. Every moment, every second you spent with him felt magical and didn’t fail to put a smile on your face the whole time you were with him—seeing your delighted expression and cheerful demeanor made him feel proud and pleased for himself.

The first date wasn’t simply just to increase the intimacy and closeness between you two but to also get to know what you like, what you favor, and what you prefer the most over anything so each time he sees you happy and pleasant over something—like your attention being caught by a certain figure or object in the street and being struck by it— he takes a mental note and makes sure to not forget it.

Throughout the day, you two were close to each other and were even either holding one another’s hand or you had your arm linked with his as you walked around. Outside, he may appear that he’s fine and cool with it but inside he is actually screaming and having an inner monologue fight with himself about what he should do: if he should squeeze your hand or pull you much closer to him or if he should just let you be.

He doesn’t want to part ways with you when the day ends and the date has come to its conclusion and as much as he tries to lengthen and stalls the time he gets to spend with you, he still has to say goodbye in the end. However, give him a quick kiss on the cheek, forehead, or wherever you wish before you two part and he will have a stupid grin plastered on his face as he walks back to his home.

He doesn’t rest but rather thinks of where you two will have a date next, staying up all night while staring at his ceiling and daydreaming of you. Perhaps a picnic in the forest in the afternoon while you two wait for the sun to set would do or maybe going to a spot with beautiful scenery like a lake he found hidden in the forest that looks so magical with the crystalflies and butterflies fluttering their wings around the area? Nevertheless, he’s looking forward to it all.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[time-is-restored]

okay like listen i know a lot of people have been talking abt this specific aspect of 3x3 already but. im just having a bit of a moment w the amount of lgbt ppl who saw trent's expression at the end there, and like. Knew.

like to be clear i am aware that at this point trent being gay is, at best, subtext + fanon. its incredibly beloved subtext, but its entirely possible that it could get blown out of the water in the coming episodes. but within the reading of trent being a gay man, seeing colin in that terrifying moment of exposure + vulnerability... that look says So much. its fear, its worry, its an instinctive protective response. its helplessness, its shame from feeling powerlessness, its the grim certainty that comes from knowing just how much is at stake.

(cw: discussion of homophobia + discrimination below. its long. i very much rambled.)

bc the thing that i personally keep coming back to is like. everyone on the team is colin's friend - his family, even, according to the themes of the show. the show is literally about the team + staff working together to break down their toxic/unhealthy behaviours and build up a culture of trust + respect. that's why i think it's so significant that while isaac is the one to use the word gay pejoratively, he's also the one checking in on colin when he gets moved to the bench. he's arguably colin's closest friend at the club! and that's not enough. the fact that the richmond club is made up of demonstrably good and well-intentioned people isn't enough.

don't get me wrong, its fucking terrifying + awful being closeted around ppl who are ACTIVELY bigoted and cruel and who u KNOW would be nothing less than awful to if u were out. but the uncertainty of being around people you love, and not knowing what would happen if you told them? of never truly being sure of your place in the dynamic, since there's always that risk hanging over your head? its exhausting, and terrifying.

because what if they aren't accepting? even avoiding the worst case scenario where his bosses (the coaches, higgins, rebecca - hell, even keely) don't outright cut his career short, he's obviously extremely aware of how being on the outs with the team could lead to his life being made miserable. he was harassing nate himself! and, again, putting aside the (very real! he's a football player! he spends half of his time in a locker room!!!) threat of physical violence, we JUST saw how quickly a member of the team can be shunned + labelled as an outsider (and in the context of this arc, i rlly don't think its a coincedence that trent, specifically, was the one to experience that treatment). and that's without even getting STARTED on the absolute nightmare britain's press + papparazi would be if they put a target on his back (the show has spared no gory detail for their treatment of rebecca + ted, after all).

this is the type of weight colin's been carrying around for the past three seasons. and trent, in that split second before he looked away and continued walking, must've felt it all right along with him. colin works for the fucking premier league in fucking britain. it's harder to think of a workplace LESS hospitable to anything other than the most cishetero, toxic, hyper conformist displays of masculinity.

and that's what fucking GETS me abt the reading where trent is gay! because in the exact same moment where trent would be feeling such a sudden sense of connection + solidarity w colin (you are not alone!!! im here too! i see you! i know you!), there comes the crushing weight of wanting to protect him, and not knowing if you can. trent may be a notoriously incisive + unflinching reporter, but w/ all of his power + armour stripped away now that he's no longer with the independent, it's damningly obvious that trent doesn't have anything close to real power at richmond. if they wanted to make colin's life hell, what could he really do to stop them? again: they're fucking footballers. he's only even allowed at the club on ted's word, a word which could presumably be revoked at any time.

i just. the fear. the guilt. the shame. and above all, the desperate, heart aching need to keep another member of the community safe, even with the odds so blatantly stacked against you both.

and like. idk. to me that is the point of this scene. i think whether you've been in trent's position, or colin's, or neither, the vast majority of us went through a very similar emotional journey when we saw colin exposed like that. love -> fear -> protectiveness. and its an urge so strong, ppl are (lightheartedly, for the most part) threatening the Literal Writers of the show! like, the fact that rn there are SO many people out there tweeting + liveblogging and threatening trent, threatening isaac, threatening the WRITERS - threatening literally anyone and everyone over the CHANCE that any of them will hurt colin/out him/expose him to homophobia in any way? like, yes, colin isn't real. but i'd like to hope that that solidarity is.

and just to be clear, ted lasso is ultimately a comedy show. while it has never shied away from frankly portraying dark subject matter, i don't think this story will have an unhappy ending. but if this arc comes with any takeaway at all, i just really fucking hope that its about how that solidarity is what we all need to embrace + run towards, rather than try and stifle. and that colin is fully + unconditionally supported by his community, whoever that may be.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

I'm so full. I'm so happy. This is everything that I wanted for the tannies. It's so amazing. Never mind its 144p and I'm still learning the lyrics. I had such a blast! Jimin was so cute. Yoongi was so funny and cute and sexy and awesome and just,,, just,,, JUST!!! Couldn't stop grinning while watching their wlive and burst out laughing as Yoongi ended it so abruptly. lol Love you, Yoongi. Love them. Who's doing it like them? Have you seen the Tiffany crowd? Have you seen the concert crowd?!!?

***

It’s a different sort of high being a fan of BTS, isn’t it?

It’s a different sort of joy seeing them be their remarkable, awe-inspiring and goofy selves. It’s so beautiful to see the love they so clearly have for each other. It feels a little too intimate sometimes, and in my experience, this is a feeling that’s unique to BTS. This group is very special. What they’ve got feels genuine because it is.

Jimin was vibing hard. Yoongi’s performance felt electric from start to finish. They spent time together, [*]riding to the venue and leaving afterwards. Its clear as day that Yoongi is happy Jimin is with him, and Jimin wears the respect and love for his hyung on his face. It’s just so easy with them.

And can I just mention Yoongi’s energy during tonight’s concert?

The way he attacked HUH?!

AGUST D???

Christ.

It’s like he gets stronger, wilder, every concert… lol, like I suspected, he’s already a bit too good at this. I’m gonna need him to calm down before the Cali dates. And now that we know we’re getting Tony Montana at a future date, I think we’re all going to really learn to pace ourselves. This could get crazy before long.

Because we’re only three days in and I’m already hanging on by a thread.

What he’s doing to me with these performances cannot be written on the internet.

He fucks me up so bad y’all.

Let me go on a short tangent here:

STD is an acronym that’s known in Korea to mean what you think it means. Everybody knows it. Language isn’t a barrier in this case. When people in Korea hear “STD”? They know what it’s referring to.

Now, what do you think about the way Yoongi introduced his alternate persona: AGUST D in 2016? The way he enunciates that phrase is sickening and intentional. The very mention of his name in the mouths of his detractors is a sickness they get from him fucking them. Or ‘fat dicking’ them, to quote Yoongi. And on that song he spits one of the sickest bars of his entire career. You’re guaranteed to be fucked just by hearing it. I mean just in his name there’s already triple entendres.

It’s mad.

Yoongi has a very peculiar energy. It’s very catlike, but also serpentine and there’s an undercurrent of barely restrained lunacy deep beneath the surface. Hobi is actually more crude than Yoongi in speech and flow, but Yoongi can be so cruel. And that quality, one he doesn’t shy from turning on himself too, coupled with his pragmatic and caustic delivery… lord. He sets himself apart from every other artist alive. Nobody in BTS cuts to the bullshit faster than Yoongi - he’s lived through the consequences of deluding yourself that you’re okay when you’re not. He’s a man who is constantly examining himself, checking his worst tendencies, but never compromising on what he truly believes.

Ugh.

Times like tonight, I look at BTS and feel so much calm. They are so competent, and I’m certain whatever they make, it will be very good. Yoongi has proven that so far with this tour. Yoongi’s D-DAY concert tour is easily the best solo concerts I’ve been to this decade, and I haven’t even attended one yet. But it’s easily the best one. Easily. And I’ve been to a lot (actually been to them), especially in the last 12 months.

That crowd Jimin pulled for the Tiffany’s event is no joke. We’re now at the point where Western celerities know they’re not the main popularity driver if Jimin is also involved. They know the crowds are there for Jimin. And when he eventually showed up, he looked magnificent. Elegant. Polished. Understated. One of these days I want to see Jimin bejewelled and dressed in all primary colours - something more vibrant and queer. But that Tiffany’s event went for traditional and understated and that’s okay. It worked, because Jimin can work anything.

**

Edit [*]: Typo correction. Should include "after", meaning after arriving at and leaving the concert, Yoongi and Jimin spent time together. They arrived separately and left together, spent time together also before and after.