#can you tell how much I struggled with that horse

[leafdoodles]

hi thank you very much for liking dirges it made me so so incredibly happy and your art is gorgeous and i hope you like the other stories when they come out too also you're a delight thank you for being on the interwebs and sharing arts and stuff

Anon?? Anon. Do you know how much I appreciate this. I will cry actually /pos

Because of you, I’m sharing this Dirges sketch page I was too embarrassed to share before because sharing art is scary:

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run pt 2

By the time the five of you are in the house, you’re soaked through once more, teeth chattering when the cool air of the house hits your skin as Gaz opens the door, holding it open long enough to let the dogs trot in.

“Hey! Shake over there!” He shoos, flinching when Maggie sprays him with her shake off.

“Let’s get you taken care of pretty.” Price murmurs, and you push weakly at his chest, struggling to get down. Your mind is foggy, exhaustion fighting to take over, but there are four strange men now standing in your living room, and that seemed more pressing.

Price grunts, but finally gives in, setting you on your feet, and you put as much distance between yourself and them as you can. “What do you want? What is going on here?” You demand, trying to ignore the shake of your voice.

They glance at each other, having a silent conversation, and you glance towards the stairs. You had an old cell phone, and the service this far out was absolutely shit, but it was a chance-

“We would like a place to stay.” Price’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes shoot to look at them, and a shocked laugh tumbles past your lips.

“A place to stay? After what just happened? For god’s sake I don’t even know you!” You laugh, slightly hysteric, and Price takes a cautious step towards you, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart, honest. Didn’t think anyone lived here by the looks of it.” His tone is soft, comforting. He approaches you slowly, and you back away until your back hits the wall.

“How did you even know we were in there?” Ghost speaks this time, eyes trained on your face and you try not to crack under his gaze.

“You spooked Sebastian. In the six years I’ve lived here nothing has ever spooked that horse.” You glare, anger flaring when the four of them laugh. “You think scaring my stallion is funny?”

“No little bird, just…” Ghost trails off, chuckling and you can feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“It’s cute how protective you are over some animals.” He finishes, and he can tell his words are winding you up, the crinkle around his eyes indicating he finds this amusing. Bastard.

“They might just be animals to you,” You start, your frustration seeping into your words as you straighten your back. “But when I found this place they were starving and on the brink of death. I worked my ass off to make sure they made it. I worked for their trust after some asshole abandoned them here to fucking die. They are my herd, this is my land!” Your shoulders heave, sucking in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

They stare at you, quiet and you close your eyes, clenching your fist as you struggle to maintain yourself. “You broke into my barn and scared my animals, held my own knife to my throat and invited yourselves into my home. Why is god's name should I let you stay here?” You ask, opening your eyes to stare them down, and for the first time tonight, they seem to crack under your gaze for once.

“Have you… Do you have any way of hearing the news?” Price questions, wincing and you frown. “The radio when I’m cleaning the barn. Why?”

They hesitate, looking between themselves as they shuffle their feet. Your eyes bounce between them, trying to think back to anything of importance that a reporter has broadcasted as of late.

Missing sheep from a town more than four hours north of you, a four way pile up down one of the highways,a break out at the prison, a wheeler transporting 60,000 gallons of wine tipping near the river…

A break out at the prison.

You freeze, all air leaving your lungs as you stare at them, four wanted criminals standing in your living room. You feel your knees buckle.

They notice your realization, hesitation crossing Price’s face when he notices your stiff figure.

“Please. Let us explain ourselves.” He all but begs, and you feel your hands shaking.

“You are wanted criminals!” You hiss, and they cringe, their previous bravado has disappeared.

“We will explain everything to you, we swear. Just… Please give us a chance.” Soap steps forward this time, big wide eyes trained on you. They’re just as soaked as you are, and in the light of the living room you see the bags under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. They look exhausted, and not just from this night. There’s a haunted look behind their eyes, and you curse yourself when you feel your heart ache ever so slightly.

You make a noise at the back of your throat, turning to head up the stairs.

“Pretty where are you-“

“You’re soaking my floor. You can explain it to me after I’m out of this damn gown.” You mumble, hearing one of them mumble ‘damn shame’.

“I heard that!”

After a few moments you come back, a box of clothes in hand and they all raise a brow. “Thought you said no one else lived here?” Gaz asks suspiciously when they notice it’s a box of men’s clothes. You roll your eyes, shoving it into his hands.

“They’re my ex-husbands, I took it by mistake when I moved my boxes.” You huff, crossing your arms. It’s your turn to raise a brow at their shocked expressions. “What’s with your faces?”

“What kind of eejit divorces such a gorgeous lass?” Soap asks, and you feel insulted, till you realise he’s not joking. They all look you over, and you feel your face warm at the way their eyes darken. Turning away, you clear your throat, pointing up the stairs.

“The guest room is down the hall, it has a bathroom and towels. Leave your clothes in the tub.” You order, making your way towards your bedroom. You feel the stairs shake as they bound up them, and as they pass, Price give’s your hip a little squeeze and you swat at his hand.

“Thank you pretty.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. You were just ruining my hardwood floors.” You sniff, smacking his hand once more when he doesn’t let go.

“You are testing my patience most of all.”

“You haven’t made us leave though.”

“I can change that very quickly.” You snap, pulling his hand off your side and he takes the opportunity to pull you close, leaning down next to your ear.

“But I don’t think you will, will you sweetheart?” He whispers, and you bite your lip, pushing at his chest. “For god's sake, go change you old perv.” You hiss, wiggling in his grasp and he flashes you a grin before letting you go.

You slip into your room, locking the door before pressing your head against it. What have you gotten yourself into?

You quickly take a hot shower, letting the scalding water bring warmth back to your stiff joints. You towel off quickly, slipping into an oversized hoodie and some old pajama pants.

You can still hear the shower running down the hall when you step out, a boom of thunder sounding in the distance. You slip down to the kitchen, grabbing one of your mugs. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

How could you be so foolish as to be letting escaped convicts use your bathroom?! God the feds were probably spread to every point in the world trying to track these men down. You can’t remember much the broadcast had said, just that there were four dangerous men on the run from one of the maximum security prisons a couple of hours away. How on earth did they wind up here?

You’re so lost to your thoughts you don’t hear the stairs creak, staring out into the backyard as you mull things over in your mind.

“‘Ppreciate the clothes lass, loads better!” A cheerful voice spooks you and you jump, dropping your mug to the floor. “Shit!” You curse, a matching ‘ah hell’ leaving Soap.

“Didn’t mean to scare you again bonnie, I’m sorry.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. You’re surprised to find genuine guilt there, and he gives you a sheepish look. “I’ll clean this up for ye.”

“Gone and lost us our chance Soap?” Gaz asks, frowning at the glass on the ground but Soap just waves him off. “Accident, scared the poor lass.”

“We keep doing that, she'll never give us a chance.” Gaz smiles at you, soft and sweet but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the bags under them worse after having cleaned up, and you feel that strange ache in your chest again. You glance at Soap, who is picking up the shards with his bare hands and you frown, swatting his hands away as you kneel beside him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” You scold, and he gives you a surprised look before smiling, shrugging as he gently stops your hands from piling the remains of the mug. “Could ask the same of you bonnie, hands like these are much too pretty for such sharp things.” He mumbles, scooping up the shards without a care.

The two of them eye you nervously, and you can feel knots in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you motion towards the living room. “Sit. I’ll make something to drink.” You offer. They raise a brow and you glance at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“No need to apologize, it’s just…” Gaz starts, trying to find the words and glances at Soap.

“We’re honestly surprised you didn't run for the nearest house possible when you had the chance.” Soap says bluntly, and you wince.

“No one around for miles.” You admit, and their faces fall slightly, shoulders tensing and you clear your throat. “I said I would hear you out. I plan to.” You say firmly, turning to walk into the kitchen, just to bump into a large chest.

“I gotta worry about you keeping your mouth shut little bird?” Ghost asks, arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.

“I do have a radio that connects me to the closest ranger station. And another for the Police station in the little town 3 hours north.” You admit, and you see his eyes flash, but you hold up your hand before he speaks.

“No. You aren’t taking it.” You snap, and his eyes narrow, exhaling sharply.

“If they don’t hear from me periodically they get worried. It’s a small town, everyone knows one another and I do have to take trips to the store every month or so.” You don’t back down from his dark gaze, but your palms feel clammy.

“They ever check up on you unannounced?” Price is last to arrive, voice stern as he levels the same cold glare as Ghost and you swallow, standing straighter, Gaz and Soap looking between the three of you nervously.

“Not unless I ask them to or I haven’t called in a few weeks. Takes too long to get out here.” Your voice shakes towards the end, slipping between the two looming men.

“You’re all here, you can start talking anytime.” You quip, and Ghost scoffs. “Got a mouth on you don’t-“

“You are asking to stay in my home. Watch it.”

He snaps his mouth shut, glaring at you and you turn your back to him. Price clears his throat, his gaze heavy on your back as you turn on the stove.

“Listen. There has to be some type of trust for this to even begin to work. You haven’t hurt me, and besides that oaf holding a knife to my throat,” You and Simon glare at one another, but he breaks first, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re a feisty little thing.” He laughs, crossing the kitchen to plop down at the kitchen table like he owns it.

“Besides that, you haven’t given me any reason you’re here to harm me or rob me, considering you have no car. You could easily overpower me and keep me locked in one of my own rooms and you haven’t. That’s a good start.” You finish, hands shaking slightly as you start to make your tea, and Price gently takes the kettle from your hands.

“But you’re still scared.” He states, and your shoulders stiffen. “Four men are in my kitchen asking to hide from the police. I’ve only put together who is who with your little code names by listening to you talk to one another. I’m sorry for being a little frightened.” You spit, jumping when you feel his large hand on your hip.

“Oh if you don’t quit that-“

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you pretty.”

“Okay! I think we all need to take a minute, yeah?” Gaz announces, him and Soap staring at the three of you nervously. You pry Price’s hand off your hip, again, pushing him away.

“Start talking, now. Before I let Soap and Gaz stay here and let the two of you rot outside.” You huff, taking a seat at the table and they seem surprised.

“I told you, I put together who is who, and those two,” You point, glaring at Price and Ghost as you speak. “Have been very respectful and kind.”

The two of them perk up, lapping up the small praise like thirsty dogs as their chests puff out.

Price frowns, keeping eye contact with you as he slips into the chair opposite of you. “We’ll behave.” He mutters, cutting a look at Ghost when he makes an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any of the harm or fear we have caused you, really thought this place was abandoned. The boys and I appreciate you hearing us out when you have absolutely no reason to. And I… apologize.” He clears his throat, casting you a glance over before meeting your eyes once more.

“Haven’t been around such a gorgeous little thing like yourself in a long time. Forgot my manners.” He grins now, causing heat to bloom in your chest and you splutter, narrowing your eyes at him as you fight the heart crawling up your neck.

“Story. Now.”

“Oh come on pretty, am I at least forgiven?” He asks, and you know he’d deny that he’s pouting, but it still makes a small smile tug your lips.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I could sweet talk you some more.”

“Much more interested in why you were in prison.”

Price sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he relaxes in his chair.

“Better settle in. It’s a bit of a tale.” He crosses his arms, settling back.

“I’ve got all night.” You shoot back, resting your chin on your hand as you get comfortable.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. First of all love your writing. <3

I have a request for you:

can you write a robb stark x reader maybe reader is a ward of the starks and the two have been engaged and best friends since childhood. Then the wedding comes and the reader is nervous and afraid of the wedding night

thank you

Robb Stark*Goodnight Dear Husband

Pairing: Robb Stark x f!reader

Word count: 1594

Warnings: insecurity, worrying about sex, (brief)motherhood, marriage

Masterlist here

you still remember the first night you spent at Winterfell. The day had been so fun. Catelyn gave you a tour of the castle, Ned let you try pick up his sword Ice which you could barely even lift the handle, Jon taught you how to sneak into the kitchens. You even remember meeting Robb.

He was a lanky boy, seven to your six. His knees were knobbly, and his curly hair could barely be controlled no matter how much his mother tried. Freckles scattered his cheeks and there was a shy smile on his chapped lips. “Welcome my lady,” he greeted with a shaky bow which was matched with your own wonky curtsey.

“I like your horse,” he said, pointing to the stuffed animal in your hand. A wide smile beamed onto your face at that, “Would you like to meet my horse? You can ride him if you’d like,” and within moments of arriving you were already fast friends. You didn’t even know you were to marry him yet.

The day was fun but tiring at that. there was a small feast of stew and honey cakes to welcome you however you were relieved to be shown to your room. It was only a corridor away from Robb’s and next to the young Sansa’s and Arya’s.

The bed practically consumed you as you clambered in, snuggling into the furs to try get away from the nipping cold. You watched as the candle flame began to waver just as a wolf howled. Your hands clutched the furs in fear before bravely reaching out to grab your horse.

But it wasn’t there.

You’d left it at the feast. How could you be so foolish? You gently began to sniffle, soft tears falling when you realised you were alone, and the light was nearly out, and you didn’t know where they kept the spare candles. Then there was a knock at the door.

You quickly jumped out of bed, running to the door encase your parents had come to tell you it was time to go home. Instead stood a boy with knobbly knees and unkempt curls holding a stuffed horse. “You forgot this. Were you crying?”

“No,” you sniffled, snatching the horse from his hands, “Its just dusty in here,” Robb nodded, biding goodnight and turning to leave when you grabbed his wrist, “Wait! I-I,” you stammered, “I don’t know where the candles are,” you mumbled.

Robb, no longer even slightly shy, strode into the room, fetching them from a drawer and quickly lighting more for you. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. And thank you,” you said, smiling softly at the boy, a yawn overcoming you again.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” he offered as you began to clamber into bed, “Its what my mum does when I’m scared,”

“I’m not scared,” you pouted, pulling the covers over yourself, “You can. If you want to. Its up to you,” you said, silently hoping he would which he instantly did. Robb tucked you in, kissing your forehead before turning to leave, “Night Robbie,”

“Night, night,”

-

You were pacing your room so much you wondered if you might wear a hole in the stone floor. Your wedding dress was folded perfectly in a chest by the foot of your bed. There was a box on top of it with your families crest on a broach your parents had gifted you as well as a Stark amulet from Ned and Cat. It also had hair pins, carefully selected by Sansa from the market and a silver ring with a red stone from Robb.

Everything was as it was supposed to be. You were to marry Robb and officially become a Stark. Yet for some reason your corset felt so tight you could hardly breathe despite how lose it was. Your mind was running over drive as your pacing struggled to keep up.

There was a soft knock on the door. You rushed over, flinging it open despite the late hour, to be greeted by your soon to be husband, “Robbie,” you almost gasped, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, coming in without having to ask, “Who were you expecting?”

“No one,” you lied, biting your lip in the way that made Robb raise an eyebrow. “Jon said he’d sneak me some honey cakes after cook went to bed,”

Robb chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair off your face. “You look so pretty,” despite him saying it a hundred times you still felt the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“You wanna come in?” you asked.

He didn’t need to be told twice and soon you were sat on your bed, your legs over his and your head on his shoulder. It was a peaceful silence. It should have been relaxing but soon your mind began to wonder.

You were to be married tomorrow. There was a gorgeous white dress waiting for you, jewels to match, a new name and title. You were going to move into Robb’s room, be his wife, his comfort, his relief. In all ways soon.

Despite loving Robb, a rarity in marriage, you couldn’t help being scared. Sure, he was attractive, stunning even, and its not like you hadn’t had thoughts about it before but suddenly the wedding night was dawning on you.

Its not like you didn’t want to have sex. From what you had done with Robb you knew it would be good. great even. Orgasmic hopefully. But the idea of it made you tense. Something Robb soon noticed.

“You, okay?” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you mumbled as you picked at your fingers, “Just you know. Wedding stuff,”

“You don’t sound too excited sweetheart,” he pouted, tightening his arms around you, “C’mon you can tell me,”

You sighed before moving to face him, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were so filled with care you could drown in them. “Just worried about what comes next,”

“Kids?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched up.

“No! well now I am but still,” you sighed, closing your eyes so you could finally say the right words, “What if I’m not good at it?” you said, emphasizing the last word making a small oh come from his mouth. “I know it’s stupid- “

“It’s not stupid sweetheart,” he hushed, his hands moving to gently squeeze yours, “But trust me you’ll be good at it,” he chuckled.

“What if I don’t do it right?”

“We’ll figure it out,”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then we’ll stop,”

“What if you don’t think I look good?”

“That’s not physically possible,” he said, tilting your chin up with two fingers to give you a soft kiss with his cheeky smile. It quickly turned into a softer face, “Besides we don’t have to do it just because we can,”

You sighed, “I know you want too then,”

Robb shuffled, almost pulling away making you sit up. His shoulders deflated as he sighed, “Of course I want to love. But only if you do. I don’t want to have sex with some girl just because I can. I wanna be with you,” he said, taking your hands, “because I love you,” he managed to get a small smile out of you making him grin, “And because you’re sexy as fuck,”

“Shut up,” you laughed, smacking at his chest, “You can’t blame me for being worried,”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m nervous too,” he admitted making you laugh a little, “What?”

You shrugged, your eyes wandering over him, “Just never imagined you not all confident and suave. Besides you don’t need to be nervous. You’re perfect,” your hand moved to cup his jaw, your thumb running over his cheek bone.

Robb pulled your legs over his lap, pulling you into his side. “That’s how I feel about you. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen or whatever,” he rambled, taking your hands in his, “We’ll do it together and we’ll go slow. I never want to hurt you,”

“And I never wanna lose you,” you said squeezing his hands

“Good,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently, “Because you’re stuck with me,” you leaned in to return the kiss which started slow and gentle, but a shiver ran down your spine when his hand moved to rest on your hip. Your glorious make out was interrupted by a knock at the door.

It quickly opened just as you and Robb were pulling apart, “Gross,” Jon muttered as he closed the door behind him. “Also, sorry cook was up late tonight getting ready for the wedding,” he said as he handed you the wrapped goods, “speaking of. You.” He said, pointing a finger at Robb, “get to bed. I haven’t been covering for you two for you to get busted in her bed the night before so get,”

Robb sighed as he dragged himself away from you, giving one last peck before he had to go and before Jon would hit him. “And you,” Jon said as he now pointed his finger to you, “Get your beauty sleep. You need it,” he said with a tilted smile making Robb hit him and you laugh.

“Your one to talk now beat it. a lady needs her rest,”

“Uhuh,” Jon said, rolling his eyes but quickly wishing goodnight. He pretended not to notice Robb giving you a goodnight kiss and instead waited in the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love wife even,” he grinned.

“Goodnight, dear husband,”

“Goodnight sweet wife,”

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[jockbots]

More on how much I love the little details of how Ballister worked the hardest and trained to be the best:

When given the sword that kills the queen he immediately recognises that its off . He knows his weapon so well that he can tell just by holding it that its wrong

Built his own arm. Built his own arm with one hand. Built his own arm, with one hand, with no resources just junk in an abandoned layer within however long it was between the queen being killed and Nimona adopting him.

Catches can without looking at it before it can drop and make a noise. AKA the moment i went oh fuck he's good.

Only needed to fight with Nimona (well...be flung around on her back) once to know her fighting style, and then was immediately able to slot himself alongshide her in a fight and cover her back.

Also I noticed that when the squire puts on his armour he struggles around. Which wouldn't mean much if I hadn't had someone point out to me how his armour is looks worn and isn't shiny and new loke the others. So then I couldn't unsee how much bulkier his armour is. All the other knights have slimlined, lightweight armour that is fitted at the ankle, but balisters is nothing kike theres. Making me think that his armour is probably a lot older and tougher and literally makes him work harder.

How many guards tried to nab them when they walked straight up to Ambrosius? The focus is on Nimona as a powerhouse, but he takes down everyone that comes at him. And it would go unoticed as blah blah movie action look at the monkey if not for the initial build up on his mad skills.

Rides a horse through a crumbling kingdom with little to no visibility and scales a statue of Glorith in record time!!!

Side note: to how much Ambrosius flusters him and his brain turns OFF aside from when he first sees him again post arm chop and reentering the closet. When Ambrosius follows them to the market, he is so devoid of braincells that he doesn't just get put of the car and run, he flails and tried to hide and covers his face and is like "do you think he saw us?" MY GUY IS SO SMART BUT HE WENT TO SEE HIM FOR NATCHOS???

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

♤ a tragedy ♤

It’s not clear to anyone but you when Aventurine is exhausted. When the tolls of his job weigh upon his shoulders.

You know he tries every day to make his family and the Avgin proud. Even as he refuses to admit it, even as he scoffs and says, “Don’t be ridiculous. I only serve my best interests. Everyone knows that.”

But you know better than that, as his secretary.

You’ve read through his reports as he argues against eradicating governments, argues for aid and deadline elongations for struggling populations. You’ve read his reports where he finds merit in every developing planet, where he calls for harsh punishments for oppressors.

Sometimes, they listen to him. It’s days like those where he has a spring in his step, where his eyes are ever so slightly brighter.

Sometimes, they don’t listen to him. It’s on these days that nothing changes, at least to everybody else. He’s cold and sarcastic as ever, strange and manipulative as ever. But alone in his office he sends for two bottles more than usual, stays late alone in his office for longer than necessary. He goes home a little more drunk than he should, and when he talks his tone is somber and manic and hopeless as he speaks of meaningless regrets and troubled pasts.

As his secretary, you’re usually the only one who sees him when he’s alone in his office. Sure, it’s annoying when Aventurine gets into one of his states. But it betrays how big of a heart he truly has, how much he actually cares. So you smile in secret, and over time your heart grows fonder. You start doing things for him before he asks, like preparing his morning coffee, and you can tell he’s noticing, because now he’s berating you for “working too hard.”

“Says the man who works overtime even when he doesn’t have to,” you say, measuring out lumps of sugar.

He doesn’t have to tell you his reasons for that are different, and yet, all the same, done out of passion. You know he buries himself in work to escape, and simultaneously to feel like he’s making a difference, as though the death of his kind is all his fault and he’s slowly chipping away at an insurmountable debt. You know he won’t listen to you if you tell him it isn’t his fault. He has no care for himself, his own life and body are poker chips he gambles all the time in the name of his family and his kind. But how is it possible that a man who cares so little for himself dresses so extravagantly, makes sure all his suits are spic and span, gives himself all the luxuries?

Simple. It’s akin to the way a show horse is all groomed and dressed up so it’s sold for a high price.

“What are you thinking about?”

You look up as you pass the coffee cup across his desk towards him.

“Oh, nothing. Just…a tragedy.”

divider by @cafekitsune

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

your transfem friend recommended a clinic to get your bottom surgery done at. she says its cheap, not gatekeepery, and the results are good, even if the doctors a little skeevy. youre at the address she gave you and are wondering how exactly your murder will go down. the door is on a third floor landing accessible only from a fire escape out of a back alley in the worst part of town youve ever seen. you knock three times and the door is answered by a ratty-looking woman with a severe slouch smoking something that doesnt smell like nicotine and doesnt smell like marijuana. her wavy blonde hair is unkempt. shes wearing an oversized grey hoodie that hasnt been washed in some time. you can identify blood on the left sleeve and vomit across much of her side, as well as other, more mysterious stains. you cant tell if shes wearing anything underneath the hoodie. the inside of the apartment - because it is, very clearly, her apartment - has a smell that you cant place but, if pressed, would probably call sweat, though you know that description is lacking something.

dr davis, you ask. she smiles wide, and her teeth are shockingly good for the state the rest of her is in. just call me riley, she says. never did get a degree.

she ushers you inside and sits you down on a sofa almost as stained as her hoodie. can i get you a drink she asks. a drink, you repeat, dazed. she says yeah. she says she has diet coke, beer, vodka, and coffee. says she used to keep tea around for a friend of a friend but she hasnt come by in a few years and the leaves are probably losing flavor by now. you say just waters fine. she shrugs and says your funeral. she comes back from the kitchen and sweeps some stuff off the coffee table. you see a stray scalpel, a roll of gauze bandages, a soda cup from taco bell, and various crumpled papers amongst the rubbish that she knocks aside before setting down your glass of water. she has a beer in her own hand and pops the cap off with her teeth, though the motion isnt quite how youre used to seeing people do it. she takes a big gulp before she keeps talking.

so what do you want your pussy to look like, she asks. you splutter a bit. she says you are the one who needed their bits redone right. you flush and say yeah thats me. she nods and says right so what do you want. you struggle to give a good answer and she starts asking questions. depth? width? color? clit size? you give your answers falteringly. she starts asking about labia. oh, you dont want dentata, do you, she says. that costs extra. you say you dont know what that means. she says dont worry about it. hey do you wanna get pregnant? you splutter again. not now she clarifies. well i can get you pregnant now too if you want that. doesnt even have to be human i think i have some horse sperm around here if you want. i just meant like ever in the future. you say you dont know. she says okay shell leave it out for now but come back if you ever want her to put the womb in. youre too stunned to reply.

she says oh do you want to keep your dick, i can do that. you say you thought they needed the tissue from the penis in order to make the vaginal lining. she laughs and takes another gulp from her beer. she says so is that a no. you say you guess you hadnt thought about it. she says she can reschedule if you need to think, no rush. you say no i guess i dont want it anymore. she nods and says come back if you change your mind.

she says ok, i think i can start operating now if youre ready. you say okay and she tells you to lie on your back and strip naked. you follow her instructions. youre still not sure if youre going to die today or not. she pulls on a big pair of rubber gloves. not latex medical gloves, they're yellow dishwashing gloves. she grabs a small jar of what looks like petroleum jelly off a shelf nearby. you cant help but notice that theres also lube, condoms, saran wrap, and a bottle of honey on the same shelf. you dont ask. she starts vigorously rubbing the jelly into your skin from the belly button down. everywhere it touches you instantly go numb. she keeps talking while she works. a lot of it is her telling stories about "her amy." you cant tell if amy is a sister, wife, or pet. she might be all three.

she reaches up to grab an empty syringe off the top shelf. when she stretches you notice shes naked under the hoodie. you look away bashfully. she doesnt seem to notice.

she fills the syringe with liquid from a bucket in the closet. the liquid is neon green. she injects it into your inner upper thigh. you are now certain you're going to die today, but you cannot make a break for it with your legs numbed, so you wait.

she says okay this is the part where a lot of people get squeamish so look away if you think you might get sick. she pulls out a set of knives. some of them look like dentistry tools, some of them are medical scalpels, and some of them are kitchen knives. you look away. she starts humming to herself while she works. the tune is pop goes the weasel.

hey, she calls out to you from between your legs, how many nerves do you want in your clit? you say uh i dont know, whats a normal amount. she says about ten thousand give or take two thousand in either direction. you say ten thousand sounds fine. she doesnt respond, just goes back to humming. its a different tune. shes humming old macdonald now.

she gets up a couple times to grab new drinks. you say should you be drinking during an operation? she says dont worry i know what im doing. besides i never took the hippocratic oath. she laughs at that, the sound somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. you don't think its that funny. she resumes her work.

this time shes humming the alphabet song. you ask how old are you anyway? she says somewhere between 12 and 47. then she laughs again. you decide to stop asking questions.

four beers, two diet cokes, three unidentifiable cigarettes, and five hours later, she stands up and announces shes done. she wipes her brow without taking the glove off, smearing unidentifiable bodily fluids across her forehead. she jabs another syringe into your other thigh and the feeling returns to your lower body. you're a little sore but other than that you feel great. she wheels over a full length mirror and tells you to take a look. its perfect. youre everything youve ever dreamed you would be. you cant describe how euphoric it feels to see a vagina, your vagina, between your legs. you thank her tearfully. she smiles awkwardly. of course, shes saying.

how much do i owe you you ask. she shrugs. iunno, a hundred bucks? im not in it for the money. you pay her the hundred bucks and leave quickly. you barely remember to get dressed again before heading out. you have never seen Riley again.

[elfryona]

Guide to picking up a plural system, for singlets

We've all been there. You're chatting with a cute plural girl and wonder if you have a chance with all of them. Maybe you've found an easily manipulated caretaker. Maybe an endogenic maid stole your clockwork heart. Maybe you met a front-stuck Tsukihime introject. Either way, you've got no better choice than following a guide by someone entirely underqualified to write one.

Before you start

Before you head system-chasing, I need you to hold your horses. You can't just go after a plural girl the way you'd go after a singlet trans girl, faking desperation and empathy. You need to relate to a system, and there's a quick little exercise for that:

Imagine a girl in your head. What does she look like? Don't just think of the broad strokes, like her figure and hair colour. What do her palms feel like to the touch? What kind of socks is she wearing? Is her neck thin enough to wrap your hands around?

This may take a while. Don't worry too much. If you can't come up with a whole new girl, you can borrow a fictional girl you're familiar with, too! Just don't skip any steps.

When you're ready, think of her personality and her voice. What would her most defining traits be? What distinct mannerisms does she carry with her? Is she soft-spoken, loud, or something in-between?

Now give her a name and introduce her to herself. Tell her who she is, what kind of person she is, and let her know that she'll live with you in your head from now on.

How to start talking

You've just invited a girl into your noggin, and you might be wondering why I made you do that. Unfortunately, that's just beyond what a singlet would understand—trust the process, and everything will work out grand.

Before asking out a plural system, you have to practise talking to a headmate. Thankfully, you don't need to look for another system for that—after all, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of their entire community?

No, you're going to practise with the new girl in your head.

I want you to remember the feeling of presence you get when someone you like is in the same room as you. Now try to feel that presence from your new friend. Some find it easier if you materialise her in a place in your head—others would rather feel her presence on the outside, like a ghost or some kind of hat man.

Now talk to her about anything you want. Remember, you need to entertain a lot of headmates to date a system—handling one girl is the least you can do! Ideally you want to give her your full attention for 30 minutes to an hour every day, but in any case, involving her in your daily routines will help a lot too! After all, she might want to front someday. Don't worry about that, though.

Actually getting a system

By now, you might've been doing the previous step for two weeks, maybe even a month. You're probably growing fond of the new girl, and she has definitely replied at least once, even though she's still struggling with language.

Maybe you're feeling ready to ask that cute system out. I'm sorry, but you have to wait a little longer!

Around this point, you might start sensing new, pretty well-developed presences entering your mind. I want you to invite them in and let them stay. Your girl needs more friends, after all!

Maybe these new presences will start talking with the girl in your head. If that's the case, you've developed a self-sustaining system and don't need to put nearly as much effort as before. Or maybe they pick up the slack while your girl is asleep—then talk to them, too! This too will help you score with a system.

How to keep it going

Now you might be thinking: "What the hell? Where's my system? What did you do to me?"

If you're thinking that, I want you to look inside: how many people live in your head? It's at least two, but more likely something like four. You've picked up a system.

Now you'll want to work on letting your headmates take the front. Everyone has their own approach, but it usually involves two steps: letting go of your body, and letting your headmate in.

You can start small. Let go of one hand, and let your most independent headmate move it about. Let go of the whole arm. Continue in the style of a mindfulness session, until it's your whole body getting taken over.

Or if you have experience with dissociation, just let go of your whole body at once! Project yourself into the outside world or retreat into the headspace, while your headmate takes over. It might feel like you're blending with them a little, but that's to be expected near the beginning. You'll get better with practice!

Once you get good enough at giving up front and end up in a sufficiently stressful situation, one of your headmates might end up stuck in front instead while you're locked inside your head. If this ever happens, you need to tell your new fronter to slide into my DMs before the headmates inevitably cannibalise what's left of your identity. No, I can't save you from getting snuffed, but I do know how to pick up a plural girl.

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ ⌇ SHARING IS CARING. featuring s. kong + t. fushiguro.

↻ shiu gives toji an offer too good to refuse.

tags : voyeurism, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, cowgirl, mentions of threesomes, slut shaming // wc. 0.7k

author’s note : there isn’t enough shiu content out there ‘m afraid, and it HURTS MEE considering i love him from infinity 2 infinity. toji and shiu are the BADDEST 2man out there and i for one would not mind gettin backshots from both ;p as always, notes n reblogs are much appreciated !! (and thank you for 300 followers!)

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

for TOJI FUSHIGURO, finding work is hard. he can’t exactly just stroll into the next place that’s hiring and hand in his cv like every other person, because unlike every other person, toji’s cv would be filled to the brim with the names of all the people he’s killed.

toji fushiguro is an assassin, and it would be a lie to say that sometimes he doesn’t hate his fucking job.

“you got anything for me?” he sits on his beaten up couch, chopsticks in hand and horse races on the television as he slurps up the last of his cup ramen. “c’mon, boss. there’s gotta be somethin’. everybody wants somebody dead these days.”

“i’m afraid not.” his boss, or more, his contractor, SHIU sighs on the other end of the line. “i told you i’d call if i had anything. work’s tight for me too.”

the line goes silent, and although shiu hasn’t quite hung up yet, toji throws back his head and groans. how hard is it for an assassin to find somebody to kill these days? the whole gig isn’t particularly helpful, either. he gets paid in lump amounts with no idea when his next job is coming through, and at times like this, toji does in fact consider paying a visit to the job centre.

just as he’s about to thank shiu for jack shit and hang up, a muffled whine on the other line drags him out of his thoughts.

“you got your girl there with you, boss?”

“i’m at home. ‘course she’s here with me.”

toji smiles. “hi there, lil’lady. whatcha up to?”

on the other end of the line, you bury your head into shiu’s neck, face flushed as you halt all movement on his lap. “nothin’.”

“don’t sound like nothin’ to me, doll. he treatin’ you good?” toji hears shiu laugh quietly through the phone.

“she doesn’t answer to you, idiot. and for the record, i’m givin’ her everything she needs and more, isn’t that right, baby?” he grinds his hips upwards and you gasp at the feeling of his tip nudging your sweet spot. “tell him how good ‘m treatin’ you.”

by this point, toji’s muted the races and put down his chopsticks, switching his phone to loudspeaker and balancing it on his shoulder so he can hear every sweet sound you’re making. his cock is out of his sweats in no time, precum staining his shirt as his tip presses up onto his abdomen.

“ ‘s g-good,” you hiccup, tears in your eyes as shiu rests a hand on your ass and starts to move you back and forth on his length. “so good, ‘n so big.”

“mm, bet that’s right, angel,” toji drawls, hand occupied with fisting his cock in time with the faint shlicking sounds echoing through his speaker. “how ‘bout next time, you get two cocks instead of one?”

“don’t get too ahead of yourself, zenin. she’s my bitch.” shiu’s tone is sour as he bucks his hips upwards, causing you to whine out.

“yeah, but I bet that slut would take it if we gave it to her.” toji grins, hand quickening when he hears you groan on the other end of the line. “sounds like she’d like that. ‘n i already told you, it’s fushiguro.”

“same difference.” it sounds like shiu’s struggling to maintain an even tone when he feels you clench down on him hard, teeth gritting as your nails dig into the fabric of his suit. “but i agree, it seems like she likes your idea. next time, instead of paying you a lump sum, i’ll let you fuck her instead.”

toji smiles, head tilting backwards as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. “nuh-uh, i still want my money.” his thumb flicks over the slit on his tip, swiping up the precum and spreading it along his pulsing length. “but i’ll take you up on your offer. cant want to try out her sweet cunt.”

on the other end of the line, you squeal, walls clamping down on shiu as you reach your climax. a loud slap resounds through toji’s phone and he grunts, ropes of white painting his knuckles as he finishes in his palm.

“she came too early. only started fuckin’ her since the time you called.”

“sounds like you haven’t been treating your bitch too well, boss, otherwise she wouldn't have been so desperate.” toji smiles, looking at the mess on his hands and shirt. “call me when you have another job. can’t wait to get my sweet reward.”

and with that, he hangs up.

PREVIOUS : DRESS UP DOLL ft. satoru gojo NEXT : FWB ft. aki hayakawa

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© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse- A Mother

Part 2

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

How ironic it was to be back at home emptying out the lunchbox that had started it all. Feeling petty that you were angry like it had forgotten its own self on the counter. Taking out the sandwich you had made the night prior and throwing it away. Turkey, cheese, and miracle whip. Abel's favorite. Starting all over, your mind trying to find work as a distraction from the entire day’s events. Lunchbox packed and, in the fridge, note on the door so not to forget it in the start of the chain tomorrow. Work finished.

And then the fleeting thought made its way back to you. Engaged. You were engaged. Something you thought would never happen because you have never had time to consider it, let alone dating.

John had passed you his phone number scribbled on a piece of paper. How very old school of him, you thought to yourself accepting it before placing it in your apron pocket mixed in with your tips. It was now back in your fingertips, passing it around to look at it closer. The man had handwriting of a serial killer... Could you be marrying a serial killer?

Shaking your head, riding yourself of such a thought. No, John was not a serial killer.... least not the kind that stalked its prey and killed the next victim- you told yourself, typing what you thought was the phone number into your phone Never really knowing much about him, you could tell he was at least military, but what exactly?

John? the text you sent to the number hoping you had read it right.

Yes? was the single worded answer. Sighing with relief, you were glad it was him, not ready to keep taking the chance of a random stranger.

I could barely read your writing.

Been told it's bad before. And then a time or two after that. He responded back and you can hear the slight chuckle in his voice.

Get the boy in bed? He messaged right after.

Yes, he's sleeping now. Just got his lunch packed.

Good, you should be in bed too. Oh my god, you thought to yourself now worried he was thinking of you in bed. Glancing at the time, after your nightly routine was done you saw the clock on the wall read almost 11:30. He was probably just being practical.

Heading there now, thank you.

For what?

Everything.

Get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.

Yeah, like you were going to sleep after everything that had happened today. Giving it an attempt, you crawl under the covers after starting the washer to try to get a jump start of the home work load. Closing your eyes, making the room dark, you pretended if anything to get sleep.

***************************

"Abel!" You shouted, pulling the clothes out of the dryer you had moved during your insomnia caused by your worry battle. "Time to get a move on." Grabbing a warm towel, you hung it on the hook outside of the shower.

"We're going to be late." You said still trying to usher him. Watching his little hand slip out past the shower curtain, feeling for the warm towel.

"Thanks momma," he said muffled through the towel.

It wasn't shortly after he found you fully clothed with his bookbag and the condemned lunchbox in your hand by the front door. Slipping on his shoes he took the bag, slipping it over his shoulders, standing up shouting he was ready.

Locking the door behind you, he sprinted down to the sidewalk ready for you. Grin beaming almost as bright as the morning sun.

"Will that man come see you again today?" he asked as you walked next to him.

Struggling to find the courage to answer him, you realized he was paying more attention than you had thought. "He is."

"Will he be there when I get there?"

"Probably, and I think we will be seeing more of him overall."

"Why?"

"Well... him and I are going to get married."

"Married!? Like a mom and a dad together?"

"Yes, but he is not your dad. Your dad will always be your dad."

Abel looked down kicking a rock.

"I wish he was better to you, momma." And your heart fractured at the statement. Your hand found his chin, tilting it up so he looks at you.

"I wish he was too," your voice quietly fighting the tears that stung your eyes, "but take it as a lesson Abel. If you ever find love, be sure to treat them better then what you have been shown."

Abel gave a single nod, understanding the weight of your statement. He has always been a kid that is easy to talk to.

Going your separate ways, he gave your middle a squeeze, head buried in your abdomen before saying goodbye. Leaving you alone to finish your walk on your way to work.

***************************

Coffee pots are already brewing, turning on the grill top and fryer for your cook. You were ready to roll.

Morning shift went quick, the restaurant running like a well-oiled machine from your efforts. No phone calls from the school today, further easing your confidence that everything was going to be alright. Abel with his dad like the custody agreement states while you're at work. That feeling of confidence quickly left you though, as Abel's homeroom teacher walked in. Mrs. Karim. Eyes locking with her, you meant her almost at the front door.

"Everything ok?" You asked familiar enough with her to know she wouldn't have been here for nothing.

"Relax," she said with a warm laugh. "Not everything that happens has to be bad." She teased placing a hand on your shoulder making you take a deep breath in. "I came to bring you something," she said handing you a student made project. It was a heart with 2 paper doors that you could open.

"We made these for Mother's Day, and I really wanted you to see what your son wrote."

Each individual line was something Abel had written about you. A scribble that you could decipher with ease, seeing it change and grow as he got older.

I love my mother because:

She makes sure I have food every day.

She makes sure I have a warm towel after every shower.

She walks me to school every morning.

She hugs and tells me she loves me every day.

She tucks me into bed every night.

Instantly the tears are hot on your face and grinning like the Cheshire cat. How much you loved that boy.

"Thank you," you said wiping your tears off with your hand.

"Figured you needed it," she said patting your shoulder again letting on she knew more then what you thought, but not pestering further. "You're a good mom." Making you nod as she left, continuing about her time off.

Turning around, you saw Kate standing leaning against the counter.

"Can we get one day in without you crying?" she teased.

"Fuck off," you chortled. Stepping past her, you saw John sitting at the said counter. He must of snuck in.

"You, ok?" he asked, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.

"Yeah," you said sliding the heart to him to look at. "Look, his handwriting looks like yours." You teased implying he had the handwriting of an 8-year-old.

Taking it in his hands he opened the doors of the heart, smiling as he read it too. "Maybe you could give me lessons then." Eyes drifting up to yours as your heartbeat faster, rattling your ribs. They look so blue even through his long brown lashes. A simple “ha-ha” left your mouth unable to find anything else back to say to flirt with him.

"Well, hopefully I can give you something else that makes your day," he said sliding a little black box towards you on the counter. You felt almost dirty accepting it, knowing what was on the inside but still did it anyway. Opening it and looking down, before handing it back to John, unsure of where to go from there.

It was a simple pearl on a gold band. "Was my mother's." He said taking it out of the box, hand extended out for yours. Handing him your left hand, you let him slip it on the ring finger. "Figure if this happening, will make it official." Rendered speechless, you searched to find anything to say.

"What was she like?"

"My mother?"

"Yeah."

"A good mother. Lot like you." He said his answer was plain and simple. His thumb stroking over the back of your hand, back and forth over the ring.

It was like you were made of butterflies and birds. The fluttering beneath your skin, in your chest and stomach, rising and lowering. Were you floating right now? Breaking eye contact, you looked down at your feet grounding yourself. Kate is coming up and giving you a light shoulder check.

"Hate to interrupt your love bird’s moment, but the dinner rush is starting."

"Right," you said fingers squeezing John's hand before getting started. Placing an order for his regular, planning to at least feed him for everything he has done, you got to work taking your tables.

As skilled as you were, you had fumbled a few orders. Forgetting things, not filling drinks right away. But the heavy ring on your finger throws off your game. You would stare at it next to the pen and pad as you would take the order. As simple as it was, it was so beautiful. The glimmer catching your eye every now and then as if you were a bird. Something unfamiliar in the familiar. The lack of tips showed for it. Yes, you were floating because you were riding cloud 9.

Streetlights were starting to come on outside, signaling it was now getting close to closing time. Restaurant now empty, John the only "customer" inside. The door jingling open caught your attention as you saw Abel slip in, heading straight for you. Kneeling you hugged him squeezing him tighter than he was you making him laugh.

"What the fuck is that??" Your ex's voice fills your ears covering the laughter. Glancing up you were shocked to see him in your place of work. Generally, he steered clear, letting you at least have home and work to yourself. But after yesterday he apparently wanted to keep whatever his problem was going.

"What are you talking about?" You asked standing up, slipping Abel behind you, and pushing him lightly to the counter. Thankfully Kate was already waiting for him, hands outstretched with fingers waggling to get him away from verbal altercation.

"On your finger." He said pointing before reaching and snatching for your left hand. Pulling it away from him, you cradled it to your chest. The ring pressed as far inwardly as you could get it.

"Hands off her," John said arm in front of you slowly pushing you behind him like you had just done with Abel. Your right hand rested on his waist, letting him know you were still there with him.

"You can't be serious," your ex said over John's shoulder trying to talk to you.

"The way you treat her ends now. You will no longer be speaking to my soon-to-be wife that way. You'll get your time in court." John said taking a step closer, almost chest to chest.

The door jingled again, and you noticed the three that followed John around standing behind your ex. They crowded him, keeping the situation under control, but willing to turn violent if the time came.

"Why don' ya step outside mate, and have a littl' chat with us?" The biggest one wearing all black said, gripping your ex's shoulder and pulling him out the door.

John followed making you call out to him, "John," your voice warned. "He's still the father to my child."

"Not gonna’ hurt him love, just gonna’ lay down some rules," he said pushing the door open with his back, following his other war dogs outside. He rounded the corner out of your sight.

"You have my heart," Abel said pulling his classroom project to him, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"I always got your heart," you said leaning down kissing his head. "Start your homework while I clean and close up," you said roughing up his hair.

"Ugh...." he groaned, but doing as you said opening his bookbag.

After what felt like an eternity, you watched John come back in the other 3 following in behind him and sitting down at the counter.

"Can I feed them at least?" You asked referring to what they had just done.

"You don' feed the strays," he teased looking down the counter at them. "They ain't staying long anyways. Just enough to lock up and me to walk you home."

"You're walking me home?"

" 'Course I am, my ring your wearing wife to be." he bantered back to you making you go red. Using the excuse to have to go back into the kitchen and fill the mop bucket to hide it. Was useless, hearing the others snicker at your embarrassment.

Previous

Next

***************************

Taglist:

@cutiecusp

@lhhlver

[beenbaanbuun]

meet me in the woods w/ Mingi

words - 3.5k

genre - fluff, friends to lovers, college!au

warnings - emo!mingi, drummer!mingi, pink!mingi, fangirl!reader, kissing, mentions of seasonal depression, mentions of a broken ankle, reader is down bad, so is mingi, they’re both idiots in love, kind of groping but not really sexual

————————————————

there’s still a chill in the air as the seasons flip from winter to spring. it shows in the way the air around you fogs up with every breath you exhale and the way the skin of your exposed thighs pricks up in little bumps. realistically you should’ve worn a pair of jeans rather than a skirt, but that would defeat the point of this whole thing you had going on. a sort of good-riddance-to-winter protest, in which you try to ignore the fact that winter was very much still in play.

although you have to admit you may have been a little too eager. you claim to have your reasons to pretend that winter is already over, but even those reasons seem a little obsolete as you sit on the picnic table awning, shivering every few seconds. perhaps your way of saying goodbye to your particularly bad bout of seasonal depression will have to be shoved to the back of your closet for a few more weeks. just until you're sure you won’t get frostbite.

you shuffle back a few inches, just enough to give yourself room to swing your legs back onto the awning. you have to go down the way you came up; that was a lesson you’d learned the hard way. a broken ankle and a particularly long lecture from your mother about making ‘sensible decisions’ was not something you care to repeat. she, of course, would blow a fuse if she knew you still frequent this spot years later, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. besides, you’re well trained in how to get up and down from your favourite thinking spot, now.

you already have one leg up when you hear a creek coming from behind you. your neck twists in time to see a hand slam itself down on the wooden surface, fingers splayed as they work their hardest to pull the attached body higher up. you recognise the rings like the back of your hand and as you watch mingi struggle, you can’t help but sigh.

“how many times have i told you how to get up here?” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear over his own strained grunts. the single hand that you can see moves until you can see a middle finger pointed in your direction, and you have to laugh, “you seriously can’t remember? right hand on the roof, left foot on the fence, and push yourself up.”

even without seeing his face you can tell he’s rolling his eyes at you. he’s heard this lecture from you a bajillion times before, and yet he never learns. it’s always right hand, right foot and pull with him - almost the exact opposite of how you instruct him.

“have you considered that i’m, like, twice the size of you?” he says as he corrects his form and finally manages to raise himself up. he swings his right knee onto the platform and rolls his gangly form onto it. you’ve seen more grace from a new-born horse, but you keep that to yourself as you watch him sit himself up and shuffle closer.

“if anything that would make it easier for you, y’know, since you don’t have to jump to reach the roof.”

you turn your body back to how it was, dropping your legs again so you can swing them over the ledge. the platform looks out over nothing but forest, and you quickly find a particular branch to focus your eyes on as the giant sits in his spot next to you. your hands subconsciously brush over the pair of initials that have been scratched into the wood when you were both teenagers. a small, neat set done with a whittling knife stolen from your father, sitting just beneath a much larger, much messier SMG that mingi had done with the biggest kitchen knife he could find. his mother never did discover how her carving knife missing for a few hours only to return to the knife block covered in moss and dirt.

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he drops his legs down to swing them at the side of yours. your pink sneakers look a little out of place besides his platform doc martin’s that he always wears, despite not needing the extra height, but somehow the contrast feels natural to you, “i thought i’d find you up here. went to your dorm to search for you but your roommate said you were out.”

“and you assumed i was here?” he nods, not bothering to look at you. he too has found a distant branch to focus on.

“where else would you be?” he nudges you with an elbow, “god knows you don’t go to your lectures…”

he’s right about that. you’d given up on college very early into freshman year, and yet you’re somehow still passing. not well, you have to admit, but enough to get a degree at the end of the year.

“my classes suck, mingi,” you clarify as you rip your focus away from that one specific branch. looking at the same thing was getting kind of boring, you realise, so instead you lay down on the dirty wood and stare up at the canopy. the february sun only just pokes through the fir-canopy, dousing you in just enough light to make your skin a little warmer. there was that heat you were hoping for earlier, “why would i go to them when clearly i can pass without?”

“fair point.”

you close your eyes, basking in the light that bathes you. there’s still a slight breeze that makes the fir needles rustle above you, a few of them raining down whenever a particularly strong gust comes along. one lands on your thigh, but it’s quickly brushed off and replaced by mingi’s warm hand. he must’ve been keeping it in the pocket of his oversized korn hoodie, you think to yourself as he squeezes your thigh.

the hoodie is an old favourite of yours. you’d bought it for him a couple of years ago, and it had soon joined what you like to call ‘the elites’ - the small collection of about three hoodies that he had in permanent rotation. it fit him better now than when you first bought it for him. he’d bulked up a lot, after all.

you still couldn’t get the sweet image of him opening the gift with a wide grin on his face out of your head.

he kissed your cheek on that day.

you always seem to blush at the memory.

“why did you come searching for me, anyway?” you say after a few moments of silence. his hand remains firm on your thigh, fingers drumming a rhythm against your leg gently, “don’t you have cooler people to be hanging out with?”

he hums, “all the cool people i know are busy today,” you swing your foot to the side to kick his shin. he lets out a laugh at the little tap - he knows you can kick harder than that - before giving your thigh a gentle tap in return, “besides, maybe i want to hear about all your little kpop groups.”

you scoff at him.

“no, you don’t.”

“no,” mingi agrees, “i don’t. but i do want to spend time with my favourite little fangirl.”

you giggle at him, opening your eyes just in time to see him turn to you with a wonky grin on his face. it seems he’s bored of staring at his branch too since his gaze doesn’t go back to it after a few seconds. it remains on you, boba-pearl pupils staring into your own as the rays of sun make them glisten.

he looks cute like this, you think to yourself. his short pink hair rustles as the wind blows it about. for a man who made so much fuss about the colour when you first dyed it, it has taken him a long time for him to go back to the bleach blonde that he loves so much. part of you likes to think it’s so he can match your own pastel pink hair - that’s a normal thing for best friends to do, right? - but you also know that he’s fiercely protective over his hair and definitely wouldn’t keep it just for your sake.

it needs a trim, you think to yourself as you watch it brush against his eyebrows. you wonder if he’ll let you do it again. he hated it the last time, so you assume the answer will be no. then again, there’s no harm in asking, right? you make a mental note to do so later, wanting nothing more than to see the same cute pout he wore last time you butchered his hair. it’s an expression that he only ever wears around you, much like that sweet smile he’d had moments prior. it’s a softness that he keeps close to his chest, a far cry from the cool exterior he tries to keep when he’s around everyone else. not that you mind the tougher side of him - it’s hot… really hot - but the sweet giggles and adorable nose scrunches will always be your favourite things about him.

“you said everyone else was busy?” you mutter, not bothering to break eye contact to go back to sunbathing. he takes the hint, and brings his legs fully onto the platform so he can face you fully. it’s much better, you think, this way you can see him more clearly, “what are they doing?”

he shrugs.

“i don’t know,” he begins to rub your thigh up and down subconsciously. he does it a lot when he’s talking. if it’s not your thigh - which it usually always is - then it’s his own, or the arm of a chair. it’s just something to keep his hands busy, you suppose, “i think some of the guys wanted to go over melodies, which they don’t need me for. jongho was saying he thinks it’d be cool if there’s a section where his voice and san’s guitar are kind of in sync? i don’t know, it sounds cool in theory but i don’t know if san’s guitar style necessarily matches jongho’s vocal style well enough to do that.”

you watch as his face lights up, just like it always does when he talks about music, or his band. he could talk about their newest ideas for hours, and most of the time you let him. you like to listen to the way his voice rises an octave when he gets excited, and watching his facial expressions never gets old. you love the way he talks with one hand, all while keeping the other firmly on your thigh; or his, or the arm of a chair. it’s nice to see him still so passionate about all the same things he was as a teenager. sometimes you’re even sure you can feel his excitement for him.

it feels an awful lot like butterflies in your stomach.

“and i mean, i know i’m just the drummer but,” you quirk your eyebrow at him and he stops himself talking. a pink flush rises over his face as he realises his slip up, “i didn’t mean just the drummer, i just meant that as the drummer, i don’t know as much about the music theory side as the guitarists do… i hit things, y’know?”

“you hit things very well, though,” you tease, using a manicured finger to poke at his knee. he catches it with the hand that isn’t occupied by your thigh and just holds onto it. its another thing he does a lot; not quite holding your hand, but definitely toeing the line, “and that’s coming from me!”

he rolls his eyes at you, and you were sure that if both his hands weren’t occupied with some other part of your body, he’d make the effort to lean forwards and place a finger over your lips to shush you. again, touching your lips like that it’s just something he does with you, just like almost holding your hands, and playing with your thighs. it’s all completely normal best friend stuff…

except you weren’t this touchy with any other guy. the last time you let a man get this close to you was when wooyoung tried to teach you guitar by moving your fingers into the correct positions for you. there was barely any contact between the two of you, and yet mingi sulked for days. part of you wanted to call it strange, but when you spotted him giving a pretty emo girl his drumsticks after a show, you gave him much of the same attitude.

you wouldn’t call it jealousy, per se, although maybe there was a little bit. mingi was your best friend after all. you have something special with him. something different that you have with no one else and you feel a way that you feel with no one else and-

oh.

oh.

suddenly the hand on your thigh felt very heavy, and you noticed the way his fingertips gently dip under the hem. had they been doing that the whole time? and you couldn’t help but feel like the way his thumb rubbed against the tip of your finger so softly had some type of further meaning behind it. not to mention the neutral yet unbelievably gentle look that took over his features, making him look even more pretty than usual in the scattered rays of light.

his lips were parted every so slightly, revealing that single wonky tooth that you found oh-so adorable. for a second you wondered what they would feel like against your skin, but you soon shunned the thought away as you remembered, oh yeah, the korn sweater. you’d felt them before. you know just how soft and gentle they are. it’s something that often plays on your mind and every time it does, you feel that same burst of excitement built up in your stomach. the one you get when mingi speaks about his passions. the one that feels like butterflies.

it is butterflies. fuck, it’s the whole damn zoo! a stampede of elephants charging though your body each and every time he does something that you find even mildly endearing. it just so happens that you find damn near everything he does endearing. you’d think those elephants would be tired of running by now…

“mingi,” you sigh, breath coming out in a plume of mist. you’d forgotten how cold it was in his presence. being around him just seemed to warm you up, “mingi, come here.”

he furrows his brow, but shuffles a tad closer. you almost groan in disappointment as he takes his hand away from your thigh, the skin immediately growing cold at the lost contact.

“what’s up, sunshine?” you feel em your eyes go wide at the nickname. you don’t know why; he uses it for you all the time.

“mingi, i’m confused… and a little scared,” you admit, although you didn’t know whether it was necessarily the truth. it was probably the closest word to describe how you were feeling though. with the way your heart was threatening to beat through your chest, and the way your stomach churned with nerves and the way your stupid brain had only just managed to catch up with how you had felt all along. it hurt, and it was painful and confusing and yeah, scared was probably a pretty good description.

“scared?” his voice grows serious as his eyes scan you up and down. once he sees that you’re fine physically, they return to your face. he looks just as confused as you feel, “what are you scared about? are you okay? hurt?”

you shake your head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. you let it out in yet another cloud of fog and watch at it floats away into nothing. you wish your butterflies, elephants, would do the same. it would make this whole thing so much easier.

“i’m fine, mingi,” you say, “just scared.”

“can you tell me why?” you nod, although it takes everything in you to do so.

“i want to kiss you,” you admit.

“kiss… me?”

you nod again, feeling a familiar heat rise to your face. the same one you get whenever mingi compliments you, or touches you. you can't believe it’s taken this long to finally figure it all out. it all feels so obvious now.

“i mean… yeah?” he stutters, “kiss me, yeah… yeah that sounds okay- i mean good! it sounds good… kissing, that is.”

if you weren’t feeling completely and utterly out of your depth, you’d have giggled at him. cutie pie you think to yourself before the heat in your body immediately gets more intense, and the elephants not only increase in number but in size too.

it’s now or never. before you can talk yourself out of it, you need to kiss him. because talking yourself out of it could be so easy. you could hop off of the awning, run back to your car and drive back to your dorm. sure, it would hurt when you would inevitably have to lock yourself away in embarrassment and never see mingi again, but time heals all wounds, right? and by the time you’re 50, the pain and embarrassment will have definitely almost healed over…

“so?” he mutters, pulling you back from the fantasy your brain had created, “are you going to do it?”

“i, uh…”

“i mean, i can if you want me to,” he shrugs, trying his hardest to play it cool as if he hadn’t been stuttering seconds prior. as if his face wasn’t just as pink as the mop of hair that sat atop it.

there is nothing cool about this man, you think to yourself as you push yourself into a sitting position. maybe that’s why you’re so attracted to him. his nerdy tendencies had tugged you in, and he’d worked his dorky little ways on you until you were hook line and sinker for him.

down bad, as the kids say. down so horrifically bad…

“i can do it,” you whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes. your lips are mere inches from his own, and his hot breath fans across your cold face. his eyes are on yours just briefly before they flicker down to your lips. they rested there for a second before making their way back up to yours, “i can kiss you,” you whisper.

“you can,” he mutters back, bringing his own face close enough to yours that you’re not even sure a sheet of paper would slip between the two of you. his tongue darts out to wet his own lips, gently brushing against yours too. your breath hitches as your last sliver of resolve vanishes. that’s it, you tell yourself, you can’t hold back anymore.

the tiny gap is closed as you press forwards, slamming your lips against his. your fingers shoot up to lace themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his find a home on your waist. his eyelashes flutter against your face as he shuts his eyes, and you follow his lead, doing the same. it’s nice, you realise, the darkness letting you focus on how his lips feel moving slowly against your own. they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there.

he deepens the kiss briefly, tilting his head ever so slightly to get a better angle. it’s a little rougher at this angle, but you can’t find it in you to mind as he takes control. the desperation you feel from him as he moves his lips harshly against your own was something you feel yourself, so you let him take what he needs, taking just as much in return.

and by the time he pulls away, you’re both panting. rapid and hard and together. his lips have barely left your own as he catches his breath, but you don’t pull back either.

“fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, “that was… nice?”

“yeah,” you agree. ‘nice’ seems the best way to describe it, although it was so much more than just that, “it was nice, wasn’t it?”

“so nice, sunshine,” he says. a few beats of a silence pass before he presses his lips against yours again, this time for a much shorter, much more innocent peck. you can’t help but giggle as he pulls away. there’s a grin on his face too, “wish we’d done it sooner, though.”

you nod, “yeah, me too.”

“but we have all the time in the world, right?”

he pecks you again. this one lasts a few milliseconds longer than the last, not that you’re counting. when he pulls away, you chase it. another peck, this time led by you, but equally as brief as the other two. it’s his turn to chuckle.

“cute,” he grins, “you’re so cute.”

you get shy under his words and pull back just a tad. the grip he has on your waist refuses to let you go too far from him. you don’t mind; not at all. the fact he wants you so close actually sends the elephants feral. you feel them reach up to your heart to work their magic on that too. it probably isn’t healthy for it to beat at the speed that it is, but you really can’t help it. the elephants seem to respond to mingi and mingi alone. you don’t mind that either.

not at all.

[cordeliawhohung]

thinking about mafia!soap ):

he's been working all day kooked-up with his computer as he types away on a project for Price. some trojan horse virus that he wants to slip into some politicians computer, something that should be simple and easy for a man of his talents, and yet he finds himself struggling anyway.

the only thing that gets him through his long day is you. you've been working a long and grueling shift and sending him texts about it whenever you have the chance to. the man could listen to you ramble all day, even through his phone. it's no surprise that you get off of work before him as you were lucky enough to work the day shift, and your constant texts begging him to come home has him tempted to toss his work aside and worry about it the next day. but that's something he can't afford.

You: babyyyyyyy come homeeeeeee

Johnny <3: can't come home quite yet, babe.

You: but i miss you ):

Johnny <3: i know, but you've gotta be patient. i'll be home as soon as i'm done here

silence. complete and utter radio silence. it's gotten to the point where Soap is checking his phone every few minutes or so just to see if he's missed a message, and yet there's nothing. worried he's upset you by his simple text, he sends you another one, one that doesn't give him a response either. it eats at his mind for a good thirty minutes. there's the code in front of him, the countless lines and lines of it, and then there's his stupid fucking phone that wont buzz as much no matter how much he'd like it to.

until it does. and not in a simple text, but a call with your name and picture popping up on his screen. immediately he answers it and raises the phone to his ear, and he prays he hasn't upset you by staying late at work again.

"babe, everything alr-"

"johnny..."

you all but moan his name, and it sounds so temptingly sweet rolling off of your tongue like it always does. but there's something more to it than that. no, he can hear your breathy sighs and that needy strain in your tone. he swears that if he focuses hard enough, there's more than just microphone static vibrating through the speaker.

"i'm trying to be patient but i... fuck, i miss you so much baby. tell me you'll be home soon?" you ask breathlessly.

as you speak, Soap imagines the show you're putting on. bare naked, sprawled out on his side of the bed to breathe in the scent of him while you touch yourself. he can hear the faint buzzing of your vibrator teasing away at your clit, touching you in all the ways that he should be touching you right now. and maybe you're trying to stuff your fingers inside of your aching cunt where his cock should be, where he should be. at home, in bed with you, fucking you into the mattress until you've both forgotten your shitty days at work.

"i'm headed home right now, doll."

his work can wait until tomorrow. he's got more important matters to tend to.

[delfiore]

—DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?

pairing: leah williamson x reader

synopsis: in the end, what is meant to be will always be. or; leah struggles after the break up.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is a continuation of LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. i just have to make things angsty i’m sry, if i don’t i start gnawing at the bars of my enclosure but worry not, this will turn fluffy in the end :)

EIGHT. Paris.

It took about 45 mins for Leah to decide that she longer wanted to be in this damned opera house.

The red carpet was exhausting enough, but she powered through it, familiar faces like Amelia DiMoldenberg’s making it barely enough to get through.

The dinner had gone into an intermission, and she had a moment to relax from the cameras, being sat at a table not far from the stage. Ever since she first attended the GQ Men of the Year Dinner a few years ago, it had created a lot of buzz around her every year, fans speculating whether she would come again, donning outfits so foreign on her body. Back then, she still had a support system that she looked forward to coming home to. Now, maybe the only positive to this night was that, whatever happened, she would eventually get to go home and sleep by the end of it.

She had to tilt her head all the way up to get a full glimpse of the ceiling. The Royal Opera House wasn’t the oldest building erected in London by far, but it was one of most interesting to look at, if she wasn’t so in love with her club and the look of the Emirates that was. It was grandiose, regal and typical of Baroque architecture, the concave ceiling arching over her, stretching all the way back to the five balconies—generously lit and horse-shoe-shaped seating areas—stacked on top of each other. It looked a little bit like the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris that she got to see when she attended the Ballon d’Or for the first time a couple of years ago. A lot of things can change in two years, and Leah wasn’t sure whether it was for the better or not.

Her agent caught her in the middle of her admiring when he gave her shoulder a light tap, telling her that she was expected at the after-party too. Great, another two hours she’d have to endure as people praise her name for achievements unworthy of praise, just because she was Leah Williamson, captain of the Lionesses. But whatever else he said after that, Leah didn’t register, because her eyes had found a familiar frame standing a few tables away.

You looked dashing in your black nighttime attire, which sparkled every time the limelight happened to sweep past you. A gentle smile adorned your face as you conversed your heart away with a couple of actors whose names were lost on her. When you put your hand on one of them and laughed, your eyed darted over to her for a split second.

Only when those actors had left, did she even think of approaching you, but her feet were planted on the ground.

One, two, three, she counted in her head. One, two, three; come on, Leah . . .

“Hi, you!” There was a residual cheerfulness from your previous conversation in your voice. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” she tried to chuckle away her nerves, wiping the sweat in her hands on her pant legs. “You been okay?”

“Yeah,” you said it so softly that she almost missed it, if she wasn’t watching your lips. “Are you? Beth says you don’t come around her place anymore.”

“You still talk to Beth?”

“Yeah, she’s my friend, Lee. I . . . hope you don’t mind.”

“No! No, that’s . . . it’s great.” Leah said quickly.

You had smiled at her gratefully, and grasped her hand. “It’s good seeing you again.”

“You too.” She had said, robotically, before deciding against it. “Hey, don’t be a stranger, alright?”

You smiled again. This time, you brought her into your chest and wrapped your arms around her neck. “You first,” you said with a glint in your eyes, then you disappeared into the crowd.

And for a few brief moments, Leah Williamson didn’t think about how exhausted she was, only about how much she has missed being held by you. After all, it had been almost two years since she and you broke up, and maybe Leah was never able to move on like she had promised you.

How could she?

NINE. Be My Mistake.

She hated the feeling afterwards. She hated herself for having initiated it, for chasing after the girl like a hungry wolf in that nightclub. Now, Leah couldn’t bear the feeling of her lanky arms and sweaty skin touching her, like the intimacy was warranted, like she had somehow earned it.

Leah knew it was begrudging of her to shove the girl’s arm away so heartlessly and move upright to the edge of the bed, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t bring herself to be intimate with someone else, not yet. Not when every time she felt her skin she imagined yours, soft and scented with your familiar smell; every time she closed her eyes she saw your face like a ghost, refusing to leave her psyche; every time she opened her mouth to let out a noise of pleasure, it took everything in her to hold herself back from uttering Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

The girl was confused but she was still, no doubt trying to decipher the sudden shift in Leah’s demeanor. She hated her stillness, the way her eyes watched her frame like she was a wounded animal in its enclosure.

“Please leave,” Leah said quietly, begging.

Silence.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but if . . . you need someone—”

“Thank you, Delaney.” She gritted her teeth. “Please get out.”

Tonight, it was Delaney with the fiery red hair and dimples peppered over her cheekbones. A few nights ago, it was Lisa-Mae with the sultry brown eyes and unforgettable plump lips. Then there might have been an Erin and Hailey and Polly and maybe even a Daniela from when she visited Keira in Barcelona. She hated that she somehow remembered all of their names and kept count. Body upon body, yet she could not forget the one body she was using them all to forget about.

She couldn’t turn to alcohol, couldn’t smoke or do hard drugs because they would affect her performance on the pitch, but God knows she was thinking about it constantly. Anything to take this pain away for a moment, lest she turns into the starving wolf and goes out to hunt at night again. If only the press caught on to what she was doing.

Righteous Lioness turned starving wolf the moment the loneliness becomes a little too much to bare.

But she knew you wouldn’t have judged her. No, you would wrap her in your arms and let her scream, cry, do whatever she wanted to rid herself of the torment. She remembered all the nights you spent on the bathroom floor with her as she battled through her endometriosis, and how you would hold her like the world was about to collapse outside the window.

Leah was on the bathroom floor again, but she was alone this time, and the floor tiles felt colder and harsher than she had remembered.

TEN. Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy).

The feeling she got when the three whistles finally blew came to Leah quite rarely. It was one of elation and immense joy that the result of the game was finalized, because she had known half an hour ago that Arsenal would bring home the crucial three points from the match.

She brought her fists in the air as she made her rounds, patting her teammates on the back and shaking hands with opponents. She found Kyra and hoisted her in the air with a tight hug, as her younger teammate managed to score and assist today.

“Thank you, Leah.” Kyra giggled, as she was put down. “Is Y/N here?”

Leah’s smile remained, but she scrunched her eyebrows. “How did you hear about that?”

“How could I not? Y/N Y/L/N, coming to watch us play. I won’t be surprised if social media was buzzing about that rather than the actual match.”

If Kyra knew, that meant the entire team knew. She would endure the endless teasing if it meant getting to see you again, though.

Leah had found where you were sitting right from the start, in the VIP box where her friends and family sat, the usual spot you occupied when you were still together. Back then, she would watch you jog down the stairs with a blinding grin on your face, hop over the barricade and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. It could be a sold-out Emirates Stadium, but the only thing she wanted to watch was you. She still wanted to.

“Hi! Great game today.” You didn’t hug her, but did something far worse. You swung your arm and gave her bicep a quick pat, like a friend would.

“Thanks,” she said. “Should have scored that header though.”

“Hey, don’t put yourself down like that. You were great.” Somehow, your words made her feel worse about herself, and she just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again. They felt patronizing.

Not far away, Beth’s joyful laughter cut through her sulking. Turning to look at the woman, she saw Beth wrapping her arms tightly around Viv’s neck and the Dutch spinning her around gleefully. Viv had managed to score a hat-trick today—her first since returning from her ACL injury—and even if she didn’t celebrate such an important feat, she would be dragged into one because her girlfriend definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

It reminded her of when she would come home and celebrate her wins with you. She didn’t need any fancy parties or lavish gifts, just being in your company was more than enough. You would always end up buying her gifts though. “Just because”, you would say, the I love you going unspoken, but she knew it was there. She could always feel it hanging in the silence, in the spaces in your home, even when you were half a world away filming. She could always feel it, like a hearth, a palpable warmth flickering in her chest.

It made her envious watching Beth and Viv that they had what she once did.

“Y/N! You made it!” Beth’s voice tore Leah from her thoughts.

Despite her sentimental predicament, a chuckle made its way onto her lips as she watched you embrace Beth like two schoolgirls finally united again after the summer holidays.

“How long are you staying in London?” Beth asked.

“I don’t know, really,” you replied. “I’m doing a thing with Stella McCartney, so it might take a while.”

Leah couldn’t help but perk up at that. She could feel Viv glancing at her from the corner of her eyes.

“No way! Look at ya. Moving on to the fashion world already!” Beth exclaimed and gave your shoulder a light shove.

Only when you and Beth had walked away happily chatting did Vivianne elbow her gently.

“They seem happy,” the Dutch said.

“Yeah,” Leah pursed her lips. “That’s good.”

“And you? Are you happy?”

Leah knew that the both of them knew she wasn’t, but that wasn’t the right answer. She would not admit to something that she has been working for two years to get over, because it would mean that her woes were all for nothing.

“I am,” she nodded. “I’m glad they’re happy.”

If anything, Leah still loved you enough to admit that.

ELEVEN. Me.

Leah didn’t sleep much these days. She never really did—adrenaline being her biggest enemy—but she would find herself crying in frustration at four in the morning, unable to fall asleep.

It would be during those torturous hours that she would reminisce on the conversation in which she pulled the plug on your relationship.

It was a slippery slope of miscommunication, both of you were to blame, but she was the one who decided to run away instead of trying to work it out. She still kept the ring in a drawer somewhere, but the memory of your rejection made it to painful to look at.

In hindsight, she could have said it a bit differently, but she was close to exploding the previous days that all of it came flooding out of her.

She replayed the conversation often, like a broken record in her head, swapping out things that she could have said or you could have said that would have lead to a different outcome, maybe one in which she wasn’t so miserable two years on.

It was 1:43am, and she was wide awake yet again. You’d always had an irregular sleep pattern, and she wondered whether you were awake too.

She knew it was a mistake, and that she would regret it in the morning, but she texted you anyway.

hey are u awake?

Slamming her phone on the other side of the bed, Leah curled in on herself, burying her face in the pillows trying not to cry. If she hadn’t looked up in time, she would almost miss the incoming call on her screen. It was you.

“Hey,” she picked up after sniffling her tears away.

“Hey, you,” your voice was soft and lulling. “What an odd time for a footballer to be awake. Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?”

This made her chuckle. “If I did get all of my beauty sleep, you lot would have no chance.”

“Watch out, everyone. Leah Williamson’s ego is inflating, try not get crushed by it.”

As Leah’s laughter died down, she felt an awkwardness settled over the line. A silence once so comfortable now felt forced, straining under the pull between what once was and the ruins of it. The heavy weight of unspoken words curled on the tip of her tongue, the broken record of her mistake playing ever louder in her head.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you,” you finally broke the silence, your voice teetering between caution and curiosity.

“Yeah, well, insomnia makes one do questionable things.”

Leah wondered if she had accidentally revealed too much, and whether it was appropriate to do so. You two weren’t intimate anymore, you were barely friends nowadays, the finest thread of your acquaintance lied solely on your hangouts with Beth. How strange it was, you were half of her soul. Now you were almost like passersby on the street.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, a sense of concern in your tone.

“Um,” she hummed, trying to pull herself together. “Not really. I-I haven’t been doing too well.”

“Leah,” you said. “I-I know we’re not as close as we were before, but I wasn’t lying when I said I still want us to be friendly at least. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“I know.” She said, her voice wavering. She wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings from you, never you. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.”

“It’s okay, Lee. It hurt me a lot, not gonna lie, but I understand where you were coming from.”

Leah couldn’t hold it in anymore, and squeezed her eyes shut, her tears wetting the pillow she lay on. “I can’t be your friend, Y/N. I can’t just pretend like the last five years didn’t happen.”

There was a brief silence once more before you spoke. “I know. Might be selfish of me to wish things were different.”

“Then I’m selfish too,” she said, almost a whisper.

There was a pause, in which Leah bit the inside of her cheeks so hard they might start bleeding.

“Are you coming to Beth’s thing on Friday?” You asked.

“I think I’m expected to be there. Why?”

“Good, I’ll be there too. We’ll talk then.”

“Okay,” Leah said dumbly.

“Now, go to sleep.”

She giggled. “You first.”

TWELVE. Sincerity Is Scary.

Leah’s teammates have teased her many times throughout the evening, stating her unnecessary brooding was actually unnecessary this time and that she should liven up. She really couldn’t. Just thinking about seeing you again tonight made her want to have a heart attack and end her misery right there.

But the moment she heard your voice as you stepped into Beth and Viv’s house, a bottle of wine in hand and a bright smile on your lips, Leah felt her anxiety dissipate into oblivion, scolding herself for ever feeling nervous.

After all, it was you.

She waited patiently with a soft smile, her arms folded behind her back as she waited for all the girls to swoon over you. She had all night to keep you company, she was in no rush.

“Hey,” you found her after all the canoodling. Extending an arm, you awaited a hug which she gladly accepted.

“Hi,” she offered to take your jacket and hung it on the rack by the door. “You got here alright?”

“Man, the traffic at rush hour,” you sighed exasperatedly. “That’s the one thing I’ll never get used to. Almost makes me miss you being my personal chauffeur.”

She laughed. “That’s the only thing I was good for, was it?”

You narrowed your eyes at her teasingly. “Not just that.”

Leah wasn’t sure what you meant entirely with We’ll talk then, but seeing as she was the one who stupidly broke up with you, the balls were entirely in your court. She was just happy you were still willing to talk to her after she called you at 2am to blabber her insomniac nonsense.

She wasn’t courageous enough to sit directly next to you at the dinner table, but rather took the seat next to Katie who sat in front of you. Courage wasn’t something Leah felt much lately, and it took seeing you again for her to admit that. Perhaps she was never brave, but you always made her feel like it anyway.

Everyone loved you, the movie star that graced her team’s humble dinner. She couldn’t help but watch in awe as you managed to charm the pants off of everyone at the table with your witty remarks and crazy anecdotes. You had a presence that made everyone want to be your friend; it made her uncharacteristically shy at trying to get you to notice her, that she resorted to watching you from afar. And the few times you would make eye-contact with her, she could only look away, bashful that she had been caught staring, as her courage dwindling with each gaze.

Later in the night, when everyone was scattered around the house chatting, she found you sitting alone on the patio. Upon closer look, she could make out a smaller, fluffy unit in the form of Myle, Beth and Viv’s little pup, prancing around in front of you, waiting for you to throw the tennis ball in your hand.

The constant sound of the girls’ conversations died down the moment she stepped out in the backyard, now lit with rows of incandescent lights overhead. Myle barked once with excitement as she spotted Leah approaching.

“I think she wants you to throw it,” you handed her the ball.

She grinned and took it. “No one beats Auntie Leah.”

Little Myle was quick to launch herself across the yard on a mission to retrieve her precious artifact.

“I wanted a dog really bad, the first year we started dating.” You said, pulling your knees to your chest as a gust of wind pulled at your hair. “I wanted a little corgi or an Italian greyhound. I spent hours looking for one to adopt and researched food, bills, insurance and stuff.”

“Why didn’t you get one?” Leah asked.

“We haven’t even moved in together at that point. Plus, I was still bouncing around, you knew that.”

She did. You were shooting a movie in Canada the few first months you and her started talking. Then, you were hopping around Spain, Portugal and various parts of the UK for another project. It wasn’t ideal, but still much closer than Canada. You would fly out every other weekend to watch her play, and she would do the same and visit you on-set, moving most things aside for a couple days with you.

“I would have loved a dog, I don’t know about you.”

“I’m sure you would have. You’d probably love it more than me,” you laughed.

“No,” Leah shook her head softly. “Never.”

Summer was approaching. She could feel it in the mildness despite the breeze. For a while, the soft murmur of the wind caressing the trees was all she could hear, and Myle’s occasional huff as she impatiently waited for the ball to be tossed again.

You both sat there watching her, fantasizing of a different life, a dream that never materialized, another fragment of memories again tainted by what-ifs. Leah bit her lip, trying to calm her spiraling thoughts. She felt her courage slipping away again.

“I’m sorry I called you the other day,” she pursed her lips. “That wasn’t very appropriate. I should have asked to talk to you properly.”

“Don’t worry. Wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve done.” She heard you chuckle next to her. “I’ve had some time to think about us. Admittedly, I didn’t want to think about it at all the first few months, but my therapist told me I had to face it one way or another.”

Leah held her breath. This was the part where you tell her that you’d moved on and that she should stop pestering you. One of her knees started bouncing up and down as she waited for you to talk.

“I had to face the fact that you’re the love of my life, and that night I met you and we danced to Hozier together—on the first night we met no less—was the second best night of my life. The best was when you told me you loved me. And the worst night of my life was when you broke up with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Leah whispered, feeling her throat tighten at your confession.

“No,” you said, moving closer. “I don’t regret it. I wasn’t ready when you proposed, and that was my truth. But Leah, I’d be lying if I said that I’d be okay with letting you go again.”

“I should’ve talked to you about marriage before I asked you to marry me. It wasn’t fair on you.” Leah offered you a tearful smile.

“I want to try again. I would do it again for you.” You reached out and wiped away the tears that had silently rolled down her cheeks as she listened to you.

“I thought I’d lost my chance,” she said. “I thought you’d moved on.”

“Oh, baby,” your thumb brushed over her cheek softly. “How could you think I’d ever be able to forget about you?”

She let out a soft cry of relief. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and there was only one thing she thought of doing.

So she leaned in, never minding her wet cheeks. The last thing she saw was you closing your eyes too.

“Oh—sorry!”

The two of you jumped apart at the voice behind you. Leah turned around with a visible scowl on her face, seeing Beth grimace sheepishly as she called for Myle.

“It’s her dinner time. Come, little one, you hungry?” Beth attempted to explain herself, as Myle sprinted inside. “Alright then. As you were.”

The moment the door closed, you burst into laughter, making her break out of her frown and smile with you. “I can’t believe that just happened,” you said, laughing into her shoulder.

“I’m going to kill her,” she shook her head and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

She didn’t mind it too much, because she got to take you home later and make up for the last two years until the early hours of the morning. You and her would laugh about it years later.

THIRTEEN. About You.

Your lover never backed down from a challenge.

That was her way, and that was what made her one of the best in her sport, her unrelenting spirit.

Yet, her legs felt like they would turn to jelly the moment she laid her eyes on you at the end of the aisle, umber dirt covered in white rose petals. She felt like drowning in her emotions which had all risen to the surface, and the waves would only plunge her further into itself until she was completely immobilized by it. But she knew once she was able to pull herself together and walk to you on the other end of that path, heaven would be waiting for her.

The officiate went on and on about love, life, and promises of forever, but she had made that promise to you long before this day. She kissed you fervently the moment she was able to.

It only seemed fitting that the first chapter of your story began with a dance, and the most important one to also end with a dance. She offered you a hand, and you gladly took it, a childish giggle bubbling in your throat. The song you danced to the first night you met rang out in the venue, a soft and folksy tune the backdrop of your falling in love.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She said with a teasing grin.

You gazed into her eyes like they held the world. You had no idea that her heart beat for you, how her soul yearned for yours, how her life will not forever be intertwined with yours.

You closed your eyes and hummed, swaying with her slowly, just like you’d practiced at home a couple of weeks ago, only that instead of the four walls of your shared home baring witness to this dance, it was all your friends and families.

Memories of the first night you met, and the one in which she promised you her heart bubbled as she saw the serene look in your face. You both have come so far.

You placed your head on her chest for all to see, the way you do when you are tired after long hours of work in front of the camera, when all you wanted was the magic and warmth of her company.

Leah smiled; she couldn’t stop smiling. She smiled and smiled until her cheeks ached, even beyond then, until forever.

“No,” you mumbled. “Not bad at all.”

a/n: happy holidays to everyone :)

[ariseur]

How do you think Arthur Morgan would react to a reader who has a great connection with animals? The reader knows how to calm animals, from horses to pigs and chickens, she also ensures that the animals have a good food and she will always be seen with a cat or a dog in her arms.

animal whisperer 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

arthur morgan x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this request was sooo cute!! sorry it took me a little while to complete it, i’ve been working on like fifteen different drafts at once !! 💗

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of animals ( dogs, cats, horses ), mentions of arthur getting bucked off of his horse 😭, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me start this off by saying that i think arthur would literally adore you and your presence. like, he already thinks you’re such a beautiful lady and that you’re amazing within your own, but seeing you so domestic with animals does something to him.

❥ arthur’s lived a hard life, he’s calloused and struggles with letting himself enjoy some of the nicer moments in life alone. but when he finds you, it feels like all of the toughness that everybody sees melts away. all he wants is you, and now that’s he’s experienced the feeling of you, he never wants to let that go

❥ if you have a more curt and blunt nature to yourself, but you just melt around animals? oh, man— he’ll do anything to see that side of you. whenever it slips out and he sees you care so much for the horses or actually supply them with hay bales and proper necessities, his eyes will always follow you curiously

❥ and even if you’re a super sweet and outwardly kind person, he’ll still adore you!! he thinks it’s cute how you care so much for animals even if he wont say it to you, he has a fondness for animals too— except it’s more so updating his compendium and hunting them rather than taking them under his wing and feeding them 😭

❥ if you have a dog, he will love that baby to death let me tell you. doesn’t matter if they’re mangy or a mutt or even purebred, he will love them regardless. if we’re going based off what dogs you can get in rdo, i think he’d get along with a chill bigger dog— but even if your dog was energetic or more on guard like a chesapeake bay retriever or a labrador retriever, he will still adore them. i can just imagine arthur with a little guard dog by his side walking through camp as it follows him everywhere. having a dog will probably make him remember his old dog copper as he tells you tales of his journeys with him at night while rubbing your dog behind the ear as it lays its head on his lap.

❥ arthur’s not really a cat person but he won’t mind if you have one!! cats are very independent and he understands that so he’ll give them their space until one day they just like.. drape themselves over his lap and he has no idea what to do. he feels bad if he stands up but like.. he doesn’t know what else to do 😭

❥ and while i’m writing this i’m thinking of how in the game, micah would literally kick the crap out of cain in rdr2 and would scold him for no reason :(((. let me just say that arthur would literally not stand for that ( and yes i only write for high honor arthur, but i feel like regardless of his honor he wouldn’t be okay with it either way ). also why am i imagining micah getting bit or scratched and arthur just like laughing at him— like even him and your animal share a look because do you see this utter buffoonery? micah’s more of an animal than anyone if we’re being honest

❥ if you don’t like seeing him hunt or watching him skin animals, then he’ll suggest you turn away or he’ll point out something in the distance ( probably another cute animal prancing around or something ), and if it’s something small like a rabbit or a bird then it’ll be done in no time and he’ll redirect your attention back to him, jumping back on his horse and saying you guys should continue on with your journey

❥ if you need him to stop by to get any necessities or food for the animals at camp, he’ll stop by on his way back and get them the proper things they need. if you thank him, he’ll just brush it off and say it’s no problem— ( he was like two counties away but he’d gladly go back if you needed him to do so ).

❥ in summary, i feel like arthur would do really great with a partner with pets or a love for animals in general. he doesn’t get the fascination too much but he’ll support you nonetheless, as long as you don’t get hurt trying to pet something that looks cute when it’s not lmfao.

❥ holy crap i need jelp whyisa rthjrorhajgan so fne

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“shh.. calm down, boy.” with your hands held out cautiously, you slowly approached ARTHUR’s bucking horse— the tennessee walker’s chestnut coat glimmering in the sun as it shone on its back. its alarmed neighs filled the air with only the distant rushing of water to accompany it, along with arthur’s huffs behind you as he caught his breath.

“‘s alright.” you cooed at the horse, waiting until its breaths slowed down slightly before you moved closer. your arms slowly extended out to reach his snout, his eyes widened and looking everywhere but you. you softly shushed as you halted your movements. your hand hovered over the white of his proboscis before finally placing a gentle hand on its nose, feeling its heavy breathing upon your arm.

“i still dont— fff.. get how you.. do ‘at.” arthur wheezed, bent over with his knees supporting him as he placed firm hands on them. he let out a breathy laugh, tipping his head up so you could catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat. “i dunno what he even gotten spooked over.” he shook his head, watching as you pulled out a small carrot from your pocket and carefully fed it to his horse who munched on it in delight.

you didn’t pay him a glance as you were enveloped in the tenessee walker instead, smiling as you replied, “probably just somethin’ in the grass.”

“fair ‘nuff.” he shrugged, brushing himself off before placing a hand on his back while he winced. arthur sucked some air between clenched teeth as he struggled to stand upright. “think he got somethin’ in my back, too.” with a string of muttered curses, he hunched over once again.

your head turned this time, still focused on giving small pats to the horse’s nose as you tilted your head. brows furrowed, you asked, “need me to get you something from outta town?”

“naw, ‘s fine—“

“arthur, i was heading out that way already,” you pointed a thumb behind you— leading his vision to your horse stationary in the distance, tapping its hooves against the ground as it waited. he looked back at you as you held a gentle smile on your face and continued, “i don’t mind stoppin’ for something.”

arthur sighed, his fingers still kneading his lower back as he let out an occasional groan.

he let the silence take hold on the situation for a second, contemplating his options. letting his fingers twist and grab at the grass beneath him— his eyes flickered between the two horses, and then finally back to you. realizing it wouldn’t make a difference and you’d probably get it anyway, he waved a dismissive hand around and finally nodded his head.

“yeah, sure.”

𐙚 taglist ; @maskedteaser

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I wanted to ask, what would it be like if Fischl had an S/O who not only plays along with her, but is just as much as a Chuunibyou as her? I'd kinda like to see her reaction to that. Maybe see what the other Mondstadt folks think as well? Oh, and bonus points if the S/O does the whole Shining Finger thing. from Gundam. That "this hand of mine glows with an awesome powerrr!" thing.

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Fischl, Ayaka, Rosaria, Eula, Furina, Shinobu, Bronya, and Seele with a very dramatic S/O

YOU ACTIVATED MY SLEEPER AGENT KEYWORDS, YOU MENTIONED GUNDAM, AND SPECIFICALLY G GUNDAM

Fischl's eyes seemed to gleam when she first realized that her S/O not only indulged her antics, but even joined her!

Their title was almost as impressive as her own, 'The King/Queen of Hearts'!

(Fischl) "Tell me dear, S/O, how can the fabled 'King/Queen of Hearts' measure up to the Prinzessin der Verurteilung?"

S/O clenched their fist and raised it in front of their chest triumphantly.

(S/O) "You may have your electric arrows, but I have these GOLDEN FINGERS!"

Oz on the other hand was completely suffering.

Well, at least he didn't have to translate for S/O, they were completely blunt and to the point, unlike his master.

Fischl did adore S/O for how brave and caring they were, but it was during a battle that made her heart first skip a beat.

(S/O) "HERE I GO!-"

S/O's pyro vision flared up as their fists began glowing a flaming gold, catching both Oz and Fischl by surprise.

(Fischl) "W-What?! S/O was serious with knowing an ultimate technique?!"

(Oz) "I thought they were in a similar boat to you, mein Fräulein-"

(S/O) "THIS HAND OF MINE IS BURNING RED! IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO GRASP VICTORY!"

They rushed past Fischl and Oz, who could only watch in awe.

(S/O) "ERUPTING, BURNING...FIIINGEEEEERRRR!"

Their fist immediately crashed through a Ruin Guard (somehow), and lifted them off the ground with one arm.

(S/O) "AND NOW, HEAT END!"

The Ruin Guard exploded violently afterwards, with S/O's fist going back to normal.

(Oz) "Wow, really?"

(Fischl) THAT IS SO COOL! "...Ahem, a fine display, dear S/O."

Everyone in Mondstadt thought that Fischl had just found another roleplayer that took things way too seriously and were somewhat dreading talking to them.

Only to realize S/O wasn't doing a bit, despite the fact they were just as dramatic as her.

They were just insane.

Ayaka knew her S/O was a bit on the...flashy side, to put it gently.

They screamed all their attack names at the top of their lungs, yet she knew no one was better and hand to hand combat than they were. Especially when they began actually glowing red or ignited into flames.

All that did not matter terribly much to Ayaka. S/O was someone she loved, for their caring and valiant nature.

But, someone like S/O was something she had never expected to face, and they both drove her insane, and yet brought contrasting calmness to her life.

Nothing however would ever compare to meeting S/O's master for the first time.

Ayaka and S/O were travelling down the streets of Inazuma, until everyone, including the guards were watching someone coming down the street.

(Ayaka) "...Is...that person standing on their horse?"

Suddenly, S/O's eyes widened, and rushed through the crowd, unintentionally leaving Ayaka behind. She quickly followed behind and saw a man standing perfectly on the horse as it trotted along the streets of Inazuma, arms crossed and an expression that was razor focused.

(S/O) "MASTER!"

The man's head turned to S/O, and both of them exchanged a glance before Ayaka saw their master leap off the horse, extending a fist as they landed perfectly in front of them.

(Strange Man) "Answer me, S/O! THE SCHOOL OF THE UNDEFEATED OF THE EAST!"

S/O knelt down as they struck a dramatic pose, answering their master.

(S/O) "THE WINDS OF THE KING!"

In the middle of the city, they began exchanging rapid punches that traded perfectly blow for blow, so fast that even Ayaka struggled to keep track of.

(Strange Man) "ZENSHIN!"

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

(Both) "TEMPA KYOURAN!"

Both their fists collided before their other arms extended outwards in sync, screaming once again.

(Both) "LOOK! THE EAST, IS BUUUURRNING REEEED!"

Ayaka watched with a strange mixture of horror, second-hand embarrassment, admiration, and jealousy.

(Ayaka) ...I-Is it possible for S/O to teach me how to do that too...?

When Rosaria first met S/O, she thought they were going to be a troublemaker.

She was correct, but they fought to keep Mondstadt safe as much as she did.

But while she did it with subtlety, S/O grabbed subtlety with their literal shining golden fingers, and made it violently explode, all while screaming their attack.

The first time she had watched S/O perform their "Shining Finger" attack on a treasure hoarder, she stood there completely slackjawed.

(Rosaria) "...Oh my Bratabos, you're completely serious."

Rosaria thought S/O was doing some kind of bit like this 'Fischl' character she had heard about.

No, they were just that dramatic for no real apparent reason, and they had the strength to back their nonsense up.

She even doubted that herself could take S/O in a straight fight.

In a strange way, it attracted her to them. They were clearly not afraid of what anyone thought of them, only caring if the people they loved were safe. She had respect for that.

But...why were they like this?

They couldn't just defeat their enemies normally, no, they HAD to explode. Every single one of them.

Sometimes S/O's Vision wasn't even active, she would just see them explode after they had shouted "HEAT END!".

(Rosaria) "You are both the best and the worst person I know of to clean up a mess of bandits discreetly."

(S/O) "Hah! The King/Queen of Hearts doesn't need to fight discreetly! I only fight with my fists!"

Honestly, as strange as this was, she also found it to be the funniest thing in the world. Maybe there SHOULD be more people like S/O and Fischl after all.

Eula couldn't exactly call anyone out for being "flashy".

But her S/O took that word to a whole new level. Especially with their manner of speech.

It made Eula look polite in comparison. S/O appeared to be playing the bit of a mysterious, strong, and rude warrior who only thought with their fists.

She had seen them become soft and loving, hell they were a couple, she knows they can become serious.

But after watching them fight a few times, she's starting to believe that S/O wasn't doing a bit like herself, and she did not know how to feel about that.

Eula watched S/O pull out a sword made of pure flames from their hands, wielding it in both their palms.

(S/O) "THIS HAND OF MINE GLOWS WITH AN AWESOME POWER! IT'S BURNING GRIP TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

S/O slashed apart the Ruin Hunter with every swing, scorching the grass ablaze with their passion.

(S/O) "TAKE THIS! MY LOVE, MY ANGER, AND ALL OF MY SORROW! SHINING FINGER SWOOOOOOORD!"

With one final slash, the Ruin Hunter was split in half, with S/O leaping back as their pyro vision died down slowly.

Honestly, Eula didn't know if she should be impressed, cringing, or not be thinking that was one of the coolest things she had ever seen.

Probably a mixture of all three.

Honestly? Furina kind of gets it.

You spend so long doing a bit, it kind of becomes a part of you.

That being said, Furina isn't entirely sure if S/O's behavior was entirely theatrics.

But that's fine! It's a part of them after all, not like she had any room to criticize.

Whenever S/O wasn't in the room, she would be clenching her fists and throwing punches in the air, mimicking their tone.

(Furina) "How did they say it...? Ah, right! This hand of mine glows with an awesome power!"

Furina giggled as she said it out loud before putting on a 'serious expression' frowning as she concentrated.

(Furina) "It's loud roar tells me to grasp victory! SHINING, FIINGEEER!" giggle

As she turned to face the door, she nearly leapt out of her skin to see S/O watching her with a highly unamused face.

(Furina) "GAH! S-S/O! How long were you-"

(S/O) "The School of Master Asia cannot be replicated by simply mimicking my actions, Furina. It comes from within!"

Furina pouted a little.

(Furina) "It doesn't look that different from theatre, S/O! You're as dramatic as I am!"

(S/O) "Dramatic? Don't be absurd, I'm completely-"

(Furina) "You are not telling me you can say all that with a straight face every single time!"

(S/O) "...Can you not?"

...Either S/O was the best actor, or they lacked the self awareness that she (kinda) had.

Oh good Archons, please no.

Shinobu already had to reign in Itto and the others, now her lover was adding fuel to the fire.

Or more like an explosion to it.

S/O had taught Itto and the other members of the Arataki gang their strange dances.

Now instead of dealing with one, she had to deal with seven other idiots shouting about Erupting Burning Fingers.

(Shinobu) "S/O, you're a terrible influence."

(S/O) "Huh? What are you-"

(Shinobu) "Sara had just told me that Itto and the others were making a ruckus in the public square."

(S/O) "What ruckus can the dances my master and I-"

(Shinobu) "They're trying to match the speed of you and Master Asia, but end up only punching themselves in the face."

(S/O) "Hah! Looks like I need to train them harder-"

(Shinobu) "S/O."

S/O sighed loudly, adjusting their red headband.

(S/O) "Fine. I'll reign them in myself."

Personally, she thinks their nature is...strange, to put it mildly.

She has no idea how S/O and their master became so eccentric, but they meant as well as she and the others did so...Not too much harm could be done?

And admittedly, she did find it really cool that S/O's vision could make things explode in such a spectacular fashion.

But why did so many people in her life have to have some kind of screw loose with them?

There was only one word that could come to Bronya's mind watching S/O in action.

(Bronya) "What?"

She had been trained all her life to be noble, courteous, and elegant.

And here came S/O with all the elegance of a cannon.

S/O fought inside a machine that mimicked their actions 1 to 1. While the suit itself was strong, it was S/O who made it surpass the limits.

Their knowledge on martial arts was unsurpassed by anyone she had ever known.

But in a strange way, it made Bronya admire them. They wore their heart on their sleeve, with no one telling them how to live. That was really admirable.

And secretly, she found herself quoting S/O many times as she was training with her weapons. Much to her amusement and horror.

But the first time she watched them in action could not compare to anything.

The machine's wings flared out and formed an energy halo, with S/O's hand becoming a blinding fiery light.

Their chest opened up and revealed a large glowing orb, with the symbol of the King/Queen of hearts flashing in front of it.

Before Bronya could even question what S/O was doing, she watched them fly past all the Silvermane guards and save them by driving their robotic fist into the enemy.

(S/O) "BURNING, FIIIIINGEEEER!"

On command, the creature exploded into a brilliant light, making everyone recoil as their enemies fled in terror.

S/O turned around, their machine crossing its arms and standing dramatically on top of a hill, staring down at everyone.

(S/O) "Behold, THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA! THE UNDEFEATED SCHOOL OF THE EAST!"

(Silvermane Guard) "...O-Okay...?"

Bronya had much of the same reaction, but a slight blush overtook her cheeks.

(Bronya) "That was...incredible!"

(Silvermane Guard) "Ma'am?"

(Bronya) "A-AHEM! Men, we continue onwards! Remember our training, and show that we are not to be surpassed!"

It was completely stupid how S/O shouted their moves but...damn, if it wasn't effective.

Seele sighs whenever she watches S/O in action.

Their moves were completely unnecessary, way too flashy, and the thing that annoyed her the most?

They worked. Like, there was nothing to counter S/O's idiotic moves, nor anything that could actually survive them.

It worked, and she hated that it did.

Seele simply steps out the way of an incoming monster part that had exploded spectacularly.

(Seele) "I will never understand how that machine of yours makes everything it touches detonate. It's like everything's made out of Natasha's grenades to you."

(S/O) "HAH! You are just watching the King/Queen of Hearts in action, Seele! Try to keep up!"

Her eye twitched. Oh now it was ON!

She had a great deal of respect for her S/O, truthfully. But it was dwarfed by her annoyance of them as well.

They would go on about complete nonsense, and yet when they were together, S/O could be a surprisingly normal and honest person.

Then she would watch them in the fight club and watch S/O in their machine grab someone's head, ready to make it explode.

(S/O) "Article 1: A Unit whose head section has been destroyed is disqualified!"

(Man) "H-HEY! THAT'S MY ACTUAL HEAD!"

(S/O) "Then I have won this fight."

Seele had never heard about these articles, or schools on this planet. Maybe it was an offworld thing.

...God, she hoped that whoever trained S/O wouldn't meet Natasha or the kids.

[inkpot909]

Falling for an Oblivious Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: Exploring these guys’ inability to spit it the hell out was extremely fun. What a couple of disaster men.

Warning(s): None.

Johnny Joestar

At first, he’ll wonder if he’s just out of practice.

Johnny’s never been interested in someone so oblivious they miss every little hint or flirtatious remark he throws their way. Having been a famous jockey, people used to flock to him; he hardly needed to even try.

But by the time of the Steel Ball Run, he hasn’t been with anyone romantically in a good while. He could count how many years since, but he would rather not keep track.

And you’re not exactly making things easy for him.

Going about your day looking the way you do… and then having the audacity to not pick up a single signal from him (Or anyone else for that matter). Honestly, it should be illegal.

Johnny’s natural instinct, unfortunately, is to immediately assume he’s not what’s clicking. Lord, am I… not being obvious enough? he often wonders.

It’d be one thing if you wanted to outright reject him; he can handle rejection (No, really, he can). It’s just the way the horse gallops sometimes.

But you don’t even seem to notice at all and that’s what’s so frustrating to him.

Just thinking of it can make annoyance fester inside his mind. Gyro throws him a knowing look whenever it’s visibly getting to him; to you it just seems like his mood spikes at random.

His annoyance isn’t directed at you, of course, but at himself (As much as he outwardly blames you, it’s really just a front).

Has he really lost his ‘skills?’ Did the passing years make him completely forget how to flirt with someone? Gyro seems really keen on telling him that’s the case.

And Johnny is nothing if not contrarian to everything Gyro says.

The guy is bending over backwards, doing anything he can do to try to impress you. All while Gryo is not-so-subtly ragging on him over it in the background.

“Quit it! For the love of God-“

“Awe, c’mon Johnny, it’s not like they’re noticing anyways!”

Johnny hates how right Gyro can be.

He’s metaphorically tripping over himself left and right, feeling like he’s at the same level of a clueless middle schooler desperately trying to seem ‘cool’ in front of a crush. Gyro’s damn near crying of laughter at his struggle to make you get it…

But all you do is just stand to the side. Smiling kindly, and blinking without an ounce of procession of his actual intent behind your pretty eyes.

Agony… Johnny Joestar is in pure agony… you’re lucky he finds you cute.

You’re so frustratingly oblivious he can’t even tell if you might like him back, and at this point he’s honestly just trying to get a read on your feelings before he spells it out for you bluntly.

Such an approach is needed with you, apparently.

It’s around this time too that he realizes… Holy shit, they’re really just that oblivious.

Someone else approached you at a bar during one of your numerous stops during the race. Both Johnny and Gyro knew exactly what they were getting at the moment they walked over, a sly smile presented on their face.

All while you sipped from your drink, your expression and tone of voice so casual one might assume your simply discussing the weather.

Johnny isn’t ashamed to admit he felt a sense of pride as the person ultimately walked off, giving up.

Luckily for you, Johnny is not.

You’ve stolen his heart so completely without even trying… he can admit to himself it’s a beautiful thing- if he detaches himself from his own frustration.

He’s going to keep trying to get you notice; try to get a read on however you feel about him. Even if it takes him the entire Steel Ball Run to do so!

And, yes, it does take that long.

Gyro Zeppeli

So what, you didn’t notice the first time he winked at you? It was real sunny out that day- the light probably shined in your eye and made you miss it.

Whatever, if his first flirtation or two ultimately fell on deaf ears. Statistically speaking, not every line is going to land the way he wants.

Who cares if his apparent interest in you is obvious to literally every one other than you? It’s your loss, to be honest.

Not that he really cares.

And you know what? He doesn’t care so much he’ll snap at Johnny for bringing it up. He’s not bothered by it… so why does the guy feel the need to mention his failed attempts at showing interest? Really, it’s just a little annoying the jockey thinks it matters to him at all.

… it should go without saying that he does not handle the frustration well at all in the beginning.

He won’t necessarily blame himself.

He is aware of his own ability to flirt, and his past has granted him a sense of confidence in it. Gyro’s certainly the forward type, and knows that.

Yet, everything he says or does seems to go right over your pretty head. It’s a not a notion meant to flatter you either- one he keeps to himself with pouted lips and arms crossed.

It’s a rather childish anger directed towards you, but it doesn’t last too long.

Eventually, he also comes to the (Begrudging) conclusion that he really cannot blame you. Gyro realizes this around the same time he figures his liking of you goes far deeper than a casual fling.

And if anything, he’s going to start directing his frustration towards the people in your past.

Clearly, no one’s really hit on you before… or worse, something happened to you that made you think no one ever would- so thick-headed in that belief that you don’t even perceive it.

It’s in Gyro’s nature to let his mind ponder the ‘why’ behind your obliviousness- especially when he thought he was being so obvious about it.

Either possibility makes him want to find whoever contributed to your inability to pick up a signal, grab them by the shoulders, and shake them violently.

But with time, he’s going to find it endearing (Not that he’s ever admit it out loud).

Look at you… riding your prized horse as if you’re not the most beautiful person in the Steel Ball Run. And the smirk doesn’t at all falter even when the three of you stop at a dingy town for the night.

“I’ve had three strangers walk up to me since we entered the saloon… the people in this town are so friendly!”

“Y/n, dear, they’re all trying to hit on you.”

“What? No way! They just wanted to talk about the race over a drink or two. One of them said they had gin from France up in his hotel room. Can you believe that? Sounds delicious, right?”

“… good lord, Y/n.”

It’d be funnier if he wasn’t another trying and failing to flirt his way into making you open your damn eyes.

At some point, Gyro just has to spit it out.

It comes during the climax of one of the race’s many stopping points. It’d been looming over his mind for weeks, and if someone were to ask him (Okay, if Johnny asks him) he would bitterly grumble that it’s been affecting his scores.

His logic behind doing this at specifically that point in time… flawless.

How are you going to blissfully remain in the dark if he’s shouting his confession at you from the finish line in front of a large group of confused onlookers?

They just wanted to see the race… not one of the top contestants with a heavy Italian accent declaring his love for you while damn-near standing on top of his horse.