#i always forget to post cover art

[linipik]

Cover for my Love Letter💌 comic

Download the whole comic +  extra content  >>here

or > Start reading here 

[isjasz]

The hands of the clock ⏱️

[mysteriousdragon2]

Art trade for @fellow-traveller Requested me to draw CDDH Hol Horse encountering Giorno, who is holding Polnareff Turtle!  This one...definitely took a lot out of me, the background, the amount of detail, but hey- I dare say I am rather satisfied with the results! Messed around with the layer options for the lighting on the characters and I might consider using it more in the future! Trade took me a while to finish up, to hopefully the wait was worthwhile. So the scenario is Hol Horse discovers that Giorno is a part of DIO’s blood, which has him quivering if Giorno tried anything...but Giorno is harmless- he is holding Turtlnareff! What can go wrong? Just be calm HolHol, all will be swell LOL. Thank you for this opportunity, hope you like it! Enjoy ;p

[jwanniie]

Can u do gp assassin minji x reader where minji was tasked to take down an important person but as she was observing he

Pairings: G!p Assasin Minji x f!reader!

Warnings: dub-con, somno,slight non-con at first, Assasin minji, knife play, degrading, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex (don���t be silly wrap your Willy), slight breeding at the end, cervix fucking, mention of pregnancy, kinda kidnapping at the end, not proofread, just filthy smut!!

Word count: 1,6k

Jwans note: huh😮‍💨 after a month of not posting, it was difficult to actually start writing and I felt ashy and dry.🫣 but my long ass summer break started, so I will be posting more (yayy), I’m going to a trip with my friends in few days so YIPPEEEEE😍😍I’m so excited (uwu)👁️👅👁️

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Minji was good at her job, or that’s what she could say, extremely good. Don’t you get fooled by the sweet plump lips, gorgeous smile that made everyone forget about their worries or the eyes that stared at you so delicately. To say that at first when you meet her you’d think she’d work on those cat cafes, kindergarten teacher or a major that inquired art would be an understatement.

The plot twist is that the most innocent and dreamy looking people turn into the most twisted and full of secrets individuals. The ones that you’d look at and think ‘no way they would do that?!’. But like the famous George Eliot said “don’t judge a book by its cover.” applied in most situations.

Minji worked as a professional assasin, she took 47 people down without an ounce of effort, the police tried to investigate those cases, but the outcome would always be a hair gripping disappointment. Nonetheless the only hope the police always had was the small ‘Mj’ that was slowly tatted into the victim’s skin with probably a dagger or an extremely sharp blade. They tried to see possible nail scratches, DNA, fingerprints, they even tried to look at the security cameras but there was no sign of anyone entering or leaving, it was like she appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into thin air.

Minji did not like the idea of being under someone's authority or taking orders from anyone. She preferred to work for herself and to be her own boss. However, on occasions, she would consider offers that came with a filthy payment. And that’s what happened with you.

There was this guy who came to Minji and told her he will give her a horrible amount of money if she can take you down. From what she heard from that guy is that you were some really famous and wealthy man’s daughter, and an only child. Your father had a company and by that company he hid his illegal business like money laundering, drug producing, tax evasion and bribery. And to what she also heard is that your dad had stolen money and refuses to give it back to the guy who came to her and that’s why he wanted to get a revenge from your father.

Minji has figured out your schedule with her ways and planned a day when you'll be very busy and tired, so you'll go straight to bed. This will make Minji's job much easier.

Minji wore baggy jeans and a long sleeved black shirt to avoid any suspicion. She let her hair loose to make her features appear more unrecognizable and she had black mask in her black tote bag to wear once she’s in your apartment and in case you’ll wake up.

She tip toed to your apartment building. The building was very minimalistic compared to what she heard who your dad was and how filthy rich you are. She expected a whole apartment building just for you to live in. But it turned out that you lived in an apartment which had families, students and office workers, like any apartment.

She pressed the elevator button and soon she stepped inside. She looked for number ‘12’ and soon she found it. The elevator was pretty fast and it wasn’t long till she was in her desired floor.-Her eyes traveled to all of the doors, in search for the apartment ‘47’. She later stood in front of the door, the lock getting destroyed by her and the door opening. A dark hall getting exposed to her eyes. She timidly and slowly walks in, taking in every little detail.

The hall was soon done and she was met with a closed door by her right, this was where your room could be since all of the other doors of the apartment were open and this was the only door closed.

She quietly opened the door being met with a laying figure, blanket draped over your thighs and lower abdomen while your upper body was exposed to cold air. The moon shining through the window making a dainty and delicate silhouette appear on the wall.

You were in a deep void, so out of this world, too deep in sleep to wake up anytime soon. Your breathing was soft and almost soundless while your chest was inhaling and exhaling slowly.

She was so fascinated by the sight she almost forgot her mission, she felt a rush of blood down her member, her pants feeling way too tight for her liking. She was ripped back to reality when you changed your position, now laying on your back.

She walked closer to your bed, admiring you now from so close. Taking in the little details, she couldn’t adore from far there. She noticed how the cold air made your nipples poke from your silky black night gown. The way the blanket was so down that your thighs were bare till the knees.

Since she already came all the way here, why can’t she have you at least once or maybe twice and then murder you? It would be fast and beside who can stop her, you are asleep and even if you did wake up. Would you fight her back? You can’t. She can just end you with a second. You were basically under her mercy.

She placed her bag on the nightstand before hovering over you. Her legs straddling your thighs. She slid down her slacks before tossing them across the bedroom. You had easy clothing, fast to remove or even rip. She took the hem of the night gown and lifted it till your breasts. She groaned at the sight, you had no panties on, just so easy and beautiful to use. Your perky mounds were soft and so plushy begging to be sucked and worshipped. While the hips to waist ratio was absolutely perfect.

Fuck, she had to kill such a precious and beautiful doll.

Her length was at this point so upwards, the tip angry red while spilling creamy white substance and her balls heavy and almost purple-ish.-Without any prepping or anything she slammed herself in, immediately groaning at the suck of your cunt. Your walls hugging her so tightly, almost too hard to move.

Her both hands went to your breasts, cupping them, while the pad of her thumb started toying with your nipples. Twisting and squeezing the hardened bud.

Your cunt got wetter with every thrust of her hips which made her pace pick up even more, her tip kissing your cervix with every single thrust.

The uncomfortable feeling in your lower region made your eyes flutter open, slightly contemplating is this a dream or the reality. But with every passing second the feeling got even more real and you were getting conscious back again.

When you were fully aware. You were going to let out a bloody scream but before you could even open your mouth, her hand found it way above your mouth. She didn’t stop her hips movements instead, getting even more faster.

Her other hand went to the nightstand, she was rummaging through her back and you were trying to see what she was trying to find. Your curiosity was soon replaced with fear when you saw what she was looking for.

She was looking for one of those kitchen knives in every typical horror movies.-There was soon a sinister evil smile across her face. Her dark eyes looked at your fear full ones.

“I’m not stopping doll, so you better also enjoy this, don’t cause me trouble and if you do..you know your faith.” She said while the tip of the knife was running across your skin. Hard enough to make a small scratch, but not hard enough to let out blood.

Her movements were in halt but soon she started again. She was ramming your insides, you hated to admit that it felt good, way too good.

She was pounding you like there was no tomorrow, well it kinda is true. Her hands let go from your mouth and you wish she didn’t. Now she has to hear the sounds you let for her. Then she thinks you are enjoying this.

With another hit of her tip on your cervix, you let out a loud moan, a pressure on your lower abdomen lingering there.

She chuckled darkly at the sound her tip taking the knife in her grasp.

“Turned out you were enjoying this, huh? Such a pretty little slut!” The sharp blade was running across your inner thighs the fear turning into pleasure. She slightly made the blade sink into your skin, a small bloody cut was now on your inner thighs.

The pain turned you even more on. The pain making your walls clasp around her uncontrollably. Nonetheless she continued her ramming, her tip was completely out before slamming with full force in. The cycle continued.

With the last womb fucking of her cock you reached your climax. Pleasure running through your body while squirming now underneath her.

Your pussy was squeezing her cock after your release and that made her reach her own high, she fucked you faster and with more passion now that she was close.

Without warning her essence painted your walls white, splashing right into your womb. She fucked harder through her high, you were whining and moving under her, the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation hitting you harder than ever. Her cum was now deeper, leaving you with a risk of pregnancy.

“Maybe I should keep you and just tell them I killed you? You would be my personal fuck doll!” She said before wrapping a tape right on top of your mouth, not even waiting to hear your answer.

[blueinsomnia]

Ekko and Jinx's History: A Simple Comment

So I read something the other day talking about how fans are making Ekko and Jinx's relationship romantic and not all male and female characters HAVE to be romantically involved. I agree with this. I'll go so far as to say that this is true for any character of any gender. In my own writing (with my original characters) I rarely have romantic undertones. Mostly just friends being friends. While I get the allure of the romantic chase, of most people we deal with in life we aren't connecting to them romantically. Friends are friends.

That said, this is not the case with Ekko and Jinx. From Ekko's release in 2015 there has always been some romantic undertones with Jinx. Riot has always been a bit mysterious about what his relationship is with Jinx. Ekko even has a line in the game where he says:

The foundation had been laid long before Arcane was released in 2021.

Between 2015 and 2021 (when Arcane was released), a lot of official art and such dropped hints about SOMETHING going on between them. Much like Jinx being Vi's sister. You have to remember that this was originally a secret. It was Ghostcrawler who finally confirmed fan theories, even though he tried to walk it back later. Oops! Ha, ha!

(An image from 2015)

To add to the mystery, on both of their official pages, Ekko is listed as connected to Jinx and Jinx is listed as connected to Ekko. However, at no point does Riot explain how they're connected. Their stories don't mention the other at all. So this means that some things were planned, but they weren't ready to reveal. I'm still of a mind that they were waiting to use Arcane as a vehicle to get into Jinx's history and how that intersected with Ekko and Vi. Before Arcane, we knew very little about Jinx and how she ends up the way she does.

Then, before Arcane came out we got this little nugget in Legends of Runeterra:

Remember, this is 100% from Riot themselves. Not the fans. Riot laid the seeds down and it was the fans who picked up on it and ran. I doubt anyone would have ever thought there was something between Ekko and Jinx without Riot dropping hints. By the time we got to Arcane Season 1, the train was already in motion.

Let's not even forget the insane number of Jinx references in the True Damage video they released in 2020. Generally it wasn't odd to see Ekko and there would be some sort of Jinx reference somewhere. That wasn't true for Jinx until recently.

After Arcane, Riot themselves has been dropping hints like crazy. Jinx has been putting Ekko's hourglass symbol on stuff. League Brazil did a huge Twitter AMA with Star Guardian Ekko and Jinx. Jinx goes to the Grammys with Ekko.

Another official Ekko and Jinx moment. Check out her shirt!

And let's not forget this one for the Billboard Music Awards:

They went to the event together!

So...while I see people saying that the fans were to blame for Jinx and Ekko being romantically involved, it should be pointed out that this is all Riot's doing. The best part is that the fans have been largely receptive to their efforts in promoting the couple. Riot has waited a long time to be able to say what they want to say about them.

And if there is any doubt about where they're going with them as a couple, let's just remember this cover for the art book for Arcane:

Another official piece done by Riot and Fortiche themselves.

Sorry for the long post, but I thought it was important to point out that it's not the fans who set this up. It'll be interesting to see where this all goes, but based on their track record so far, it should be clear where the end game is headed.

Thanks for reading!

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Threes a Formula

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Y/n Müller, a Media Design graduate from Stuttgart, accepts a live-in nanny position with the prestigious Wolff family in Monaco. She moves to care for their young son, Jack, and quickly adapts to the fast-paced lifestyle of the Formula One world. 

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff x Nanny!reader

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff in the beginning. Later; 18+, cursing, age gap relationship, smut, Daddy kink, Mommy kink.

Ch.2

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Chapter 1: Welcome to the Wolffs

Y/n Müller had always been driven by a deep sense of creativity and a desire to make a meaningful impact on the lives of others. Growing up in a bilingual household in Stuttgart, she had developed a passion for languages and cultures, seamlessly switching between German and English. This dual heritage had given her a unique perspective and a love for connecting with people from diverse backgrounds.

When it came time to choose a field of study, Y/n followed her heart and enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts program, majoring in Media Design. She was drawn to the world of visual storytelling, believing that design could shape perceptions and inspire change. Her coursework was rigorous, covering everything from graphic design to video production, but Y/n thrived in the academic environment.

However, as graduation approached, Y/n found herself at a crossroads. While she loved the theoretical aspects of her studies, she longed for a more hands-on role where she could apply her knowledge in real-life situations. She had worked part-time as a nanny throughout her university years, discovering a natural talent for engaging with children and creating enriching experiences for them.

One evening, while scrolling through job postings, Y/n stumbled upon an advertisement that caught her eye: 

______________________________________________________________

WE ARE HIRING

a live-in nanny position for a family in Monaco. bilingual background (German and English) 

Job description: A high-profile family deeply embedded in motorsports is looking for a bilingual nanny who can travel with them fully and adjust to a dynamic lifestyle.

Required skills: Background in early childhood care.

Job Location: Monaco (base)

______________________________________________________________

It didn't say who that family was, but since she was a new motorsports fan, she had recently started watching "Drive to Survive" on Netflix, it only had 2 Seasons and she just started on episode 3 of season 1. All that she knew about motorsports she got from Drive to Survive but there are so many different categories, not only Formula 1. So she decided she may not know who they were anyway.

But that docuseries had piqued her interest, offering a glimpse into the thrilling and often dramatic world of F1 racing, full of fascinating stories, personalities, and grown men that could be so petty and childish sometimes. Between the drama and the drivers, she felt like watching an episode of "The Real Housewives" shows. Not to forget the lifestyle that comes with motorsports.

She felt an instant connection with the Mercedes team, even though they were hardly spoken about in the first season, since she was born in Stuttgart and everyone knows how interconnected that city is with the brand.

That's why her heart raced so fast as she read the listing. It seemed too good to be true! The chances that I really was anything remotely connected with the Show was slim but she still had a good feeling about it.

It also was just a chance to combine her creative background, passion for nurturing children, and newfound love for motorsports while experiencing life in an entirely new and glamorous setting, knowing that the family had wealth seeing as they live in Monaco. 

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the perfect opportunity. All those factors drove her to apply for the job. 

Working for that prominent family would allow her to make a significant impact on a kid's life, providing him or her as nanny a stable and loving presence amidst their busy lives. 

The role also offered her professional and personal growth, which a traditional design job might not provide. At least not in that capacity.

And the opportunity to travel with the family in their fast-paced world and manage the challenges of a high-profile household would push her out of her comfort zone and help her develop a diverse skill set. 

Plus, the exciting idea of living in Monaco, a city known for its beauty and sophistication, was too tempting to pass up. 

She could immerse herself in a new culture, build a global network, and create unforgettable memories. Her twenties were here so she could explore herself and the world so what better way than to travel and make friends.

She could always go back to her design background if she was getting tired of childcare. With her, you would never know.

Being highly interested in the job opening Y/n sent out her resume and a cover letter. Still not knowing who the family is. But she really didn't care who those people were as long as they were nice.

______________________________________________________________

I am writing to express my interest in the nanny position for your family. With a strong background in Media Design and over five years of experience in childcare, I am confident in my ability to provide a nurturing and enriching environment for your child. My bilingual skills and creative approach to education make me uniquely suited to support your family’s needs.

My experience includes designing engaging, educational activities that support children’s cognitive and emotional development. I am adept at managing busy schedules, coordinating travel, and maintaining the highest standards of discretion and professionalism. I believe my dedication and adaptability align well with the high standards you seek in a nanny.

I was born in Stuttgart, Germany, to a German mother and an American father, which afforded me the advantage of being raised bilingual in German and English. This multicultural background has not only enhanced my communication skills but also instilled in me a deep appreciation for diverse cultures. I am passionate about traveling and eager to learn from new environments, which I believe will enrich my role as a nanny.

Thank you for considering my application. I look forward to the opportunity to discuss how I can contribute to your family’s well-being.

Kind regards,

Y/n Müller

______________________________________________________________

When Y/n sent off her application, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. She had poured her heart into the cover letter, hoping her passion and experience would shine through. The following days were a whirlwind of emotions and activities as she waited for a response.

During those two weeks, Y/n kept herself busy to manage the anticipation. She continued her part-time nanny job, investing extra effort into creating engaging activities for the children she looked after. She also worked on freelance design projects, hoping to bolster her portfolio in case she needed to pivot back to her design career.

Y/n spent time with friends and family, sharing her hopes about the potential job in Monaco. They encouraged her, but the waiting was still nerve-wracking. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart raced, thinking it might be an email from the Wolff family.

To prepare herself for a possible interview, Y/n researched more about Monaco and the world of motorsports. She watched documentaries, read articles, and familiarized herself with the different sports leagues and key figures, hoping to impress the family with her knowledge if given the chance.

When the invitation for a video interview finally arrived, Y/n was both nervous and hopeful. The email's subject line made her heart skip a beat. She quickly opened it and read through the details, feeling a surge of excitement. She was thrilled to finally meet the family and get to know them, but also anxious about making a good impression.

______________________________________________________________

Dear Y/n,

We hope this email finds you well. Thank you for your interest in the nanny position with our family. We were delighted to receive your application and are impressed by your qualifications and enthusiasm.

Allow us to introduce ourselves. We are Toto and Susie Wolff, deeply involved in the world of motorsport. Toto serves as the Team Principal and CEO of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team, while Susie is a former racing driver and currently the CEO of ROKiT Venturi Racing in Formula E. Our careers require a significant amount of travel and flexibility, which is why we are seeking a reliable, creative, and adaptable nanny to assist in caring for our son, Jack.

Jack is a lively and curious three-year-old who loves exploring new things and learning through play. We are seeking someone who can not only care for him but also foster his love for learning and creativity. Your background in Media Design caught our attention, as we believe your creative skills can help make Jack’s experiences both fun and educational. Your bilingual ability is also a big plus, knowing you can speak both English and German with him.

We have scheduled a video interview with you to further discuss this opportunity. The interview will take place on January 12th at 3 PM. You can join the call using the following link: [Video Call Link].

During the interview, we would like to discuss your experience, your approach to childcare, and how you envision supporting Jack’s development. Additionally, we welcome any questions you may have about our family and Jack’s routine.

We hope you are as excited about this opportunity as we are about the prospect of having you join our family. Please let us know if you have any questions or need further information before the interview.

We look forward to speaking with you soon.

Warm regards,

Toto and Susie Wolff

______________________________________________________________

When Y/n received the email, her eyes widened in surprise and excitement as she read through it. She had been anxiously awaiting a response, but she never imagined that the family she had applied to work for was as prestigious as the Wolffs. She quickly reread the introduction, her heart racing.

"Wow," she whispered to herself. "Toto and Susie Wolff? This is incredible."

The significance of the opportunity began to sink in. Toto Wolff, the Team Principal and CEO of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team, and Susie Wolff, a former racing driver and the CEO of ROKiT Venturi Racing in Formula E, were offering her a chance to be part of their world. She felt a mixture of awe and determination.

Y/n couldn't help but smile as she thought about little Jack, imagining the lively and curious three-year-old they described. She was thrilled that her background in Media Design had caught their attention and that they saw the potential for her creative skills to enrich Jack’s experiences. Knowing they appreciated her bilingual ability gave her an added boost of confidence.

"January 12th at 3 PM," she murmured, making a mental note of the interview date and time. She clicked the video call link to ensure it worked, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

Her mind buzzed with a hundred thoughts at once. She needed to prepare thoroughly for the interview, making sure she could articulate her experience and vision for supporting Jack's development. She also wanted to prepare insightful questions to show her genuine interest in their family and lifestyle.

Y/n felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of nerves. This opportunity was bigger than she had anticipated, but she was determined to make the most of it. She took a deep breath, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her.

"This is it," she thought. "This could be the start of something truly amazing."

She immediately set to work, planning her preparations for the interview. She wanted to be ready to impress Toto and Susie Wolff, knowing that this was a chance to combine her passions for childcare, creativity, and cultural exploration in an extraordinary way.

The night before the interview, Y/n rehearsed her answers to potential questions and prepared thoughtful questions of her own. She set up her laptop in her parents' house in Stuttgart, double-checked her internet connection, and ensured her surroundings were neat and professional. If this interview didn’t work out, she reminded herself, she could always fall back on her design background. But deep down, she knew how much she wanted this opportunity.

______________________________________________________________

She took a deep breath and clicked the link to join the video call.

The screen flickered, and soon she found herself face-to-face with Toto and Susie Wolff. Y/n had done a quick search on them prior to the interview, discovering their significant influence in the motorsports world, but she still didn’t know the full extent of their prominence.

“Hello, Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Susie said with a warm smile.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Wolff. Thank you for this opportunity. Es freut mich sehr, dass wir die Möglichkeit haben, so miteinander zu kommunizieren (I am very pleased that we have the opportunity to communicate with each other like this),” Y/n replied, trying to keep her nerves in check.

“Please, call us Toto and Susie,” Toto said, his tone friendly and welcoming. “We’ve read through your application and were very impressed. Why don’t you tell us a bit more about yourself?”

Y/n began to explain her background in Media Design, her passion for working with children, and how she believed her creative skills would be beneficial in engaging and educating their son, Jack. She also mentioned her bilingual abilities and her experience growing up in Stuttgart.

Susie nodded thoughtfully. “We think your background is quite unique and would bring a fresh perspective to Jack’s upbringing. How do you feel about traveling frequently and adapting to different environments?”

“I’m very excited about the opportunity to travel,” Y/n said. “I think it would be an amazing experience for both Jack and me. I’m adaptable and eager to learn about new cultures and environments. Traveling has always been a passion of mine, although I haven’t had the opportunity to see and learn as much as I would like to until now.”

Toto leaned forward slightly. “One thing to consider is the nature of our lifestyle. It can be fast-paced and demanding. How comfortable are you with managing stress and maintaining flexibility?”

“I’m confident in my ability to handle stress and stay organized,” Y/n replied. “My studies and previous nanny jobs have taught me how to manage my time effectively and stay calm under pressure. Zudem möchte ich auch nochmal anführen, dass ich eben deutsch bin. Es liegt mir also eigentlich im Blut immer pünktlich zu sein und mein Leben gut zu managen. (I would also like to mention again that I am German. So it's actually in my blood to always be punctual and to manage my life well.)”

The last part was meant as a joke, but Toto and Susie knew she fully meant it.

Y/N paused before she asked a question she was eager to get an answer to. “I am very sorry to tell you I don’t really know about your work background and I was not comfortable googling the both of you so if you don’t mind what exactly do you do? Also, you spoke about traveling how often would that be and when would you like to have Jack with you guys?” It was a long question but she was confident they would answer her fully.

Susie and Toto exchanged a quick glance, their smiles warm and understanding. They appreciated her directness and respect for their privacy.

Susie spoke first, her tone friendly. "No worries at all, Y/n. I’m a former racing driver and currently the CEO of ROKiT Venturi Racing in Formula E. My role involves overseeing the team’s operations, strategy, and ensuring we’re competitive in the championship. It’s a dynamic and demanding job, but one I’m very passionate about."

Toto nodded, adding with a hint of enthusiasm, "And I’m the team principal and CEO of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team. It’s an intense job, managing the team and ensuring we perform at our best during the racing season. So, as you can imagine, our schedules can be quite demanding and involve a fair bit of travel."

Susie continued, "Regarding travel, we do move around quite a bit, especially during the racing season, which runs from March to December. There are races almost every other week, and they happen all over the world. We'd love to have Jack with us during these travels, but it depends on the location and the duration of our stay."

Toto chimed in, "Ideally, we'd like him to join us for the major races and during the summer break when the schedule is a bit lighter. It's important to us that he experiences different cultures and environments, but we also want to ensure he has stability in his education and routine. We’re looking for someone who can help maintain that balance for him."

Susie nodded, "Exactly. We want Jack to feel secure and supported, no matter where we are. Your role would be crucial in providing that stability while also making the experience enjoyable and enriching for him."

Y/n listened carefully, nodding as Susie and Toto explained their busy schedules and travel needs. When they finished, she smiled confidently, ready to reassure them of her capabilities.

"Thank you both for sharing that with me. Your careers sound incredibly exciting and demanding, and I can see how important it is to you that Jack has stability amidst all the travel."

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "I have extensive experience working with children in various environments, including situations where parents have high-profile, busy careers. I understand the importance of creating a stable, nurturing environment for Jack, no matter where we are. I am skilled at maintaining routines and providing the educational support he needs to thrive."

Y/n continued, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m very adaptable and have handled travel with families before. I’m organized and proactive, ensuring that everything Jack needs is prepared and that he feels secure and happy in each new location. I also love finding creative ways to make travel educational and fun for children, turning each new place into a learning opportunity."

She smiled warmly, looking between Susie and Toto. "I’m confident that I can provide the balance you’re looking for—supporting Jack’s growth and education while also making sure he enjoys the unique experiences your lifestyle offers. I’m excited about the possibility of being a part of your family and contributing to Jack’s development in such a dynamic and enriching environment. That of course is if you would have me.” She smiles at them.

After a few more questions about her approach to childcare and her thoughts on integrating educational activities with play, the interview began to wrap up.

“We’re very impressed with you, Y/n,” Susie said, glancing at Toto, who nodded in agreement. “We think you’d be a wonderful fit for our family.”

Y/n’s heart soared. “Thank you so much. I’m really excited about the possibility of working with you and getting to know Jack.”

“We’ll be in touch soon with more details,” Toto said, smiling. “Thank you for your time today.”

As the call ended, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration. The interview had gone better than she could have imagined, and she felt a sense of validation in her choices and aspirations. The Wolff family represented a new path, one filled with opportunities for growth, adventure, and meaningful connections.

Two days later, Y/n received another email from the Wolffs.

______________________________________________________________

Dear Y/n,

We are thrilled to inform you that after careful consideration, we would like to offer you the position of nanny for our son, Jack. We believe that your skills, experience, and personality make you the perfect fit for our family, and we are excited about the prospect of having you join us.

As mentioned during the interview process, we would like to start with a trial period to ensure that there is a good connection between all of us. Therefore, we propose a trial run of three months, during which we can assess how well we work together and whether this arrangement meets everyone's needs.

We are genuinely excited to welcome you into the Wolff family. We believe that your background in Media Design, your bilingual abilities, and your passion for childcare will make a positive impact on Jack's life and development. We are confident that you will create a nurturing and stimulating environment for him, allowing him to thrive and grow.

Regarding logistics, we understand that relocating to Monaco is a significant step, and we want to make the transition as smooth as possible for you. If you are able to join us by the 1st of February, it would give us ample time to settle in and get acquainted before the busy racing season begins.

Please let us know if you have any questions or concerns. We are here to support you and ensure that you have all the information you need.

Once again, congratulations, Y/n. We are looking forward to embarking on this exciting journey together.

Warm regards,

Toto and Susie Wolff

______________________________________________________________

As Y/n sat amidst the flurry of emotions, her mind drifted to the impressions she had formed of Toto and Susie Wolff during the interview process. Toto, with his focused demeanor and stern yet approachable presence, exuded a sense of determination and drive that commanded respect. She couldn't help but admire his unwavering commitment to excellence, balanced by an underlying charm that shone through in the occasional dad joke or lighthearted quip.

In contrast, Susie embodied elegance and grace in every aspect of her being. Y/n admired the way Susie carried herself with poise and sophistication, radiating warmth and sincerity in her interactions. Behind her poised exterior, Y/n sensed a deep well of motivation, care, and love for others, driven by her passion for making a positive impact in the world.

As Y/n pondered these thoughts, she felt a sense of gratitude wash over her. To be welcomed into the lives of such remarkable individuals, to work alongside them in nurturing and shaping the life of their son, Jack, was an honor beyond measure. She knew that under their guidance and with their support, she would not only thrive but also contribute to creating a loving and enriching environment for Jack to grow and flourish.

With a renewed sense of purpose and excitement, Y/n turned her attention back to the task at hand—preparing for the journey ahead. As she packed her belongings, her heart swelled with anticipation for the adventures that awaited her in Monaco, where she would embark on a new chapter of her life filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

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@pand-de-pandora-blog @wonderwolffs @laura-naruto-fan1998 @strangegirl974 @totothewolff

[vmpiires]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄”

: ̗̀➛ FLUFF CONTENT!!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, no sex, all fluff and the cute stuff. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 1.42K

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; taking a break from smut. finna make sum cute for the ones that need it

“choso!” you threw your arm around choso. the 5’11 male would groan tiredly. you and him were pretty close friends…even closer now that the two of you lived together. you were his ball of sunshine when he just wanted to curl up in a pit of darkness. his tired eyes made their way up to yours and he’d smile a little.

you and him were…something. your relationship wasn’t made official or anything you but it definitely felt like it was. the two of you shared hugs that lasted longer than it should’ve. you were always doing something thoughtful for him like buying him new clothes or even food…to which choso couldn’t help but throw on his awkward crooked smile.

though, choso was a pretty serious guy, you couldn’t help but laugh when he was being dead serious with you. the way he said certain things made you giggle even though there wasn’t anything to laugh at in particular.

he couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make him smile.

“hey…” choso cleared his throat. “what’re you doing up?”

“um..choso, it’s four in the afternoon.” you correct him in your soft and bubbly voice, your face never changing from your excited smile. if you smiled any longer, you were sure that your cheeks would start to hurt.

“huh?” choso glanced up at the clock on the wall in the kitchen that was pretty visible from the living room. his pupils retracted and his eyes widened, shocked about the time. he sighed and slumped back against the cushions of the couch.

“why didn’t you tell me? i was supposed to hang out with itadori today…” he sighed again, now rubbing his eyes. “i’m probably the worst brother ever.”

“you aren’t the worst, cho,” you smile at the curse, trying to reassure him. “you can still hang out with him. he knows how tired you can be.”

“yes, but i promised him i wouldn’t fall asleep and forget about him.” choso continued his moping, covering himself with his robe out of embarrassment…then it was quiet.

he went to sleep again.

you wondered why and how choso could just fall asleep so easily in the middle of conversations like that. his logic was also a bit confusing. he was so worried about yuji’s feelings but now he’s asleep as if he hadn’t been freaking out over it.

later that day, you were in your room playing roblox horror game on your playstation with yuji on the phone while choso was in the shower. you were waiting for him to get out so you can shower. you had to make sure you got that out of the way before you went to bed.

as you played your game, you remembered how dark the room was. you enjoyed being immersed in these games. turning up your volume as loud as possible. closing your door. turning off all the lights and even closing your curtains. you lived for the thrill of being scared.

you heard a click and a screech as your door opened, making you let out a loud gasp, saving yourself from tearing your vocal cords from screaming so much. 

choso was standing in your doorway, shirtless and his hair down. completely different from the twintails he usually wore…or his hair tied back, leaving his bangs to hang around in his face.

“you can go in now…” his low adverb voice spoke. “and why’re you screaming so much? is it that game?”

“oh, yeah, sorry.” you chuckled, finally calming your nerves. you were about to say something else until you heard yuji talking again. “oh…yeah, he’s right here. he was talking about you earlier.”

choso raised his eyebrows. you noticed he was doing that thing with his face…that nervous but excited smile. that was the most you seen him smile all day besides earlier today. he would quickly take your phone and put it up to his ear.

“uh…what do i say?” he asked. you just shrug, gesturing him to just say whatever was on his mind. he’d take your advice and walk out of your room, excitedly talking to yuji, starting with an apology.

you just smile at choso’s excitement and patiently wait until he returned with your phone.

that night, you had suddenly woken up after you fell asleep. your tv was off and your blankets were sliding off the bed. you seemed to be sleeping peacefully until you felt someone tapping you. you’d jolt awake and look up to see choso.

“your phone died,” he said, gently placing it beside you. he must’ve had your phone for a while or he just didn’t know when to come and wake you up. you were half asleep and you just nod, not really hearing much of what he said even though he didn’t say much.

“thanks, cho,” you say sleepily before lying down again. soon enough, you felt one side of your bed weigh down. choso was lying down next to you now.

“can i sleep in here with you?” he suddenly asked. “i don’t really wanna sleep by myself.”

that was a first. choso never asked to sleep in the same bed as you. you were too tired to question the curse’s actions and you agree to let him stay with you.

your eyes drift closed again, making yourself comfortable on the bed. soon enough, you felt a pair of arms snake around you.

“i gotta tell you something…um..don’t hate me.” choso began. “i mean, i doubt that you will but just in case.”

choso obviously seemed like a nervous wreck talking to you so closely to your ear. as you fight to keep your eyes open and listen to what choso had to say, you avert your eyes to look at him.

“why would i hate you?” you ask. choso’s cheeks visibly flushed a red color and he’d sigh, struggling to find the correct words to you so the conversation can go on smoothly.

“i…” you hear him pause. “i didn’t mean to fall in love with you like i did. you’re just so beautiful…and sweet. i don’t really know what i’d do without you here with me.”

you lay there processing what he had just said to you. a love confession? you couldn’t even fathom the words coming from your roommate’s lips.

“you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, i understand. i just wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my—” choso stopped again as if he were trying to remember something. a word. “do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

a tired smile stretched across your lips, “did you learn that from yuji or did you learn it yourself?”

“when i was talking to yuji on your phone…i asked him what it meant to have a crush on someone…and what it meant to be in a relationship. i mentioned to him that i felt like i’d die around you—that’s a good thing, i promise.” choso explained. “he tells me that it’s fine and that i should tell you how i feel.”

“well…yes, choso. i’ll be your girlfriend.” you say, your drowsiness still evident in your tone. choso released his grip from your body and sat up quickly.

“seriously?” he raised his eyebrows. he seemed unsure if he should’ve been excited. “um..this is good, right? yuji isn’t messing with me, right?”

you just laughed at him. something about his reactions were the cutest thing you could experience. it was like watching a cat play with a new toy.

“yes, seriously.”

“i have to tell yuji,” choso grabbed your phone and attempted to turn it on but it wasn’t working. it was still dead and you didn’t even bother to wake up and put it on the charger.

“tomorrow, cho. tell him tomorrow.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒

“yuji,” choso whispered into the phone. you were still asleep in your room while choso had sat in the living room, trying to charge your phone. it took him a second to understand the concept of how long it can take to charge but he was patient until your phone reached a sufficient number so he could use it to make a call.

“i did it. i told her.”

“oh, you did? that’s awesome!” if your phone was any louder, you’d be able to hear yuji cheering over the phone for his big brother since the audio was on speaker. “well, now all you gotta do is be a cool boyfriend and a cool big brother.”

“i think i can do that,” choso smiled.

[hushhushchild]

NSFW M!reader, m!vampire bf, edging, marking. I've seen lots of posts about the concept of 'marking' during mating, i.e. claiming a mate as your own through biting or scent. How intimate it is, the ecstasy that rips through your system, especially in regards to an orgasm.

That led me to the long-term ramifications of said mated pair. Say, you're claimed by a vampire. You'll never forget that moment when his fangs dig into your carotid. An orgasm ripped through your body like shattering glass, leaving your body aching for weeks. And all was right with the world. He truly was a charmer, making exquisite meals and showering you in love. Every day was full of life, and every night was full of love. Not to mention, that back-arching bite he would always cap off an orgasm with.

But vampires have covens, you see. Your mated pair needs to leave, and seeing as you're still human, you can't travel with him. On a late, misty night, he drives off to somewhere upstate.

The first night is uneventful, but the house seems eerily quiet.

The second, however, you feel a deep longing within yourself. A hunger. You tuck away for the night in the covers, hand wandering over your body-- a crude imitation of the tender brushes of his cold hands. Even as you begin to stroke your sensitive cock, it just isn't the same. Maybe you've picked up an affinity for the way his hand slowly drags from the base to the tip, making a small swirl around the leaking tip, before drifting back down. Your touch, by comparison, is brutish. Vulgar. An affront to the natural art of your body. You can't even bring yourself close to orgasm before giving up with a huff. Blue balls hurt like a bitch.

You decide to up the ante the next night. Since your handsome vampire lover arrived, your dildo has long sat in the drawer. You gingerly lube it up and prod at your entrance. Maybe it was just prostate stimulation! A good dick could make this little... issue go away. Hopefully, of course. That hope was misplaced. You've been riding yourself ragged. Your prostate may well be bruised with the punishment you're throwing at yourself, but the orgasm never rams through your body. You're his -- your body refuses to budge. Even when it feels close. Even when you're begging and pleading to nobody. Even when a small puddle of precum forms on the sheets. Not a moment of release from this torment... The third day, he finally returns. The sight of the headlights down the driveway sends you into a frenzy. You practically tackle him as he enters the house (thank God for welcome mats), hands around his neck as you blubber incomprehensibly.

"Oh... poor baby. All pent up? Good. Don't be mad but... I might've done that on purpose~"

[merp0515]

Fanfiction Writer Apperation Post!

Ayo all Merp here! I hope everyone is having a great time whatever time zone you got. I'm a simply derpy ass artist that likes to draw stuff that the Internet has shown me! That includes lovely fanfiction stories I tend to read a lot about. Which is why this post is here to bring a HUGE appreciation for someone in the SMG4 community more from the SMG34 squad! My great friend and a badass from many projects featuring their own series such as "Next Step With You!", @shygirl4991 !

We all have known them from many spots that they are part of like the one they are doing with @lizaluvsthis in "Brewing Romance", "The Chains of a Fragile Soul" with @b-r-i-n-g-x , and "Spilt Into Three's/Six Splits For Four" with the artwork done by @alianarepasa !

They have also done some cool group collab with lots of people, bringing out the artworks each group puts out such as "Coffee Prince and The Frog" (collab with Liz and Aly), and "Shadow Vision" (Bringx, Liz and Aly)!

They never fail to be inspired by many other people that sometimes have ideas for our favorite gays but either don't have the time to do them or they want to do it but don't know how to put into words! Some of these beautiful ideas that came to life thanks to Shay's amazing writing skills are "Just A Dream", "Trade For You" ideas inspired by @therabbitdemon , and "Death Of SMG3" requested by @anartisticalniche !

I had the honor of making the cover art for their cute fluffy "Doll Confessions" fic they made a while back collabing with Bringx's adorable GMod photos she did! Even though what got me into their stories was through "Brewing Romance", there's another story that got me into them and had me always checking fanfiction sites to see if they made anything new and that's one of their many solo projects "Azure Potion!"

It's always fun making art covers for them or draw out characters they've created over time with the plethora of stories done by our lovely writer! I highly recommend checking out their other solo stories such as "Forklift Date", "Mistletoe Wars", "True Colors", "Trapped In a Bleakly Winter", and "A Shot of SMG34"!

There's definitely more stories they've written for these lovey gays but it's gonna take me a while to put them on here lol. Nonetheless while we artist have a blast in creating art for all your favorite fanfictions, please don't forget to show some love to the brains behind the whole thing! Without them, we wouldn't be able to enjoy making all the amazing art to show our love and appreciation for ALL of their hard work! As one that does both art and writing (even though I don't really post many stories on here because my writing style is still a work in progress), I'd love to be recognized by both my art AND the writing I do! Remember to see who's the original writer first before commenting anything!

Anyways……

THANK YOU SHAY FOR ALL THE BEAUTIFUL STORIES YOU CREATED FOR THE FANDOM! WE ALL LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOUR HARD WORK LAD!

Never stop doing what you love and keep on writing! 😄

And to all you lovely writers in this fandom. We love and appreciate all the hard work you all do as well! Keep on writing and create lovely stories to share with everyone! :)

Have a mini colleague of some the art I made for Shay's stories in the past including the cover I did for "Doll Confessions"!

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Xavier: Marker Magic | Drabble

I HIT THE POST BUTTON PREMATURELY. So anyway...comedy fic. With Xavie Baby? More likely than you think.

Pairing: Xavier x Reader Warning: None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

The rule with dating Xavier is you had to accept that sometimes he was just going to fall asleep and forget about plans you made. You should’ve known when you heard the door to his apartment opening around the time you were waking that he wouldn’t make it. What he always did at night was confusing and he never bothered to tell you that information.

You could only sigh now as you looked at the man sprawled on his bed. In his defense, he did look adorable when he was asleep like this. You were thankful he had put your fingerprint on the lock on his door so you could come and go as you pleased…still….you were a bit spiteful. He could’ve at least sent a message to let you know he was out late and needed to reschedule. 

You then got a devious idea, a smirk etching onto your face as you looked around. You walked to his kitchen, finding a marker that was lovingly placed there for making notes on a pad nearby. You took it, twirling it in your hand as you went back to Xavier’s room. You looked down at his sleeping, peaceful figure and decided to ruin the image.

He normally slept like a rock so you doubted this would wake him. You popped off the top of the marker and began working on your newest art piece. Lines were easily drawn on his smooth skin as you used your hand to adjust his face where you needed and cover as much as you could. His face twitched adorably and it reminded you of a sleeping bunny.  You were almost satisfied when you felt something.

Xavier’s body rolled over, his arm reaching out to the warmest object nearby, you. You got dragged down to his chest, pressed against it as his grip locked you in. For a second you thought you had woken him up, but upon further inspection he was still asleep, the gentle snore was proof of that.

Still, you were fucked if you stayed here. He’d no doubt be annoyed with you drawing on him and would try to take revenge. You wiggled in his grasp, trying to push him away. After a bit of a struggle, you managed to toss yourself out of his arms and onto the floor. You fell with a loud grunt, the sound of your body hitting the ground was enough to finally wake up Xavier.

You saw his silvery blonde hair poke up and look around before he spotted you. He rubbed his eye and noticed how your legs were almost up in the air, knees hooked to the edge of the bed and your upper body lay on your back on the floor. You looked ridiculous right now…but he looked worse.

You couldn’t help but snicker, reaching for the phone in your pocket and snapping a photo. The flash stunned Xavier as he went to rub his eyes and let out a yawn. He called your name gently, “What are you doing down there?” he mumbled tiredly. He could see you laughing on the ground at something and his half-asleep brain registered it had to be his appearance.

In your laughing fit he was easily able to grab your phone and look at himself. The first thing he notices was the giant dick drawing on his cheek, and then the random little doodles and what he assumed was a butt over on his chin. How childish…and of course you’d be laughing on the ground due to it, almost in tears.

Xavier tried to wipe off the marker but noticed it didn’t even smudge. He saw it was still on the bed and looked it over. Both of you read the words at the same time.

Permanent.

Why this fucker had a permanent marker on his fridge was a question you’d ask till the end of time. All you knew was this man wouldn’t be able to go out in public for at least a few days until it rubbed off.

This time when he called your name it was no longer sweet. You cleared your throat, “Xavie baby, don’t do anything rash.” You tried reasoning but it appeared your pleading would get you nowhere.

You let out a blood-curdling scream when he grabbed you by the ankle, dragging you up as you struggled to get away. He got you on your back and pressed down on you with his hips, “I’m not doing anything rash. This is just…returning the favor.” He said, the marker approaching your face. Oh, you were fucked.

Next one will be posted today and it's the NSFW drabble bby, have fun!

[hollowdeath]

ravenclaw fashion

starting a new collection of posts going in-depth on my personal interpretations of the different houses & what they (mostly femme) would wear outside of hogwarts! as always these photos are not mine!

blue

ok, i know this is a bit overdone, but stick with me here...the ravenclaw girlies own every shade of blue. navy, cerulean, cornflower, all of it! and they incorporate it into everything in the most subtle, adorable ways possible. oh, i love that, but does it come in blue? they just pull it off better than everybody else somehow. it's like it was meant to be...

skirts

doesn't matter what season it is or how much snow is on the ground, these ravenclaws will always bust out a skirt and make it work. i especially see them pairing it with tall boots/socks, cardigans, and, of course, pantyhose. they can rock any length, too. mini, knee-length, ankle-length, they really cannot go wrong with a good skirt. they just suit them so well.

eccentric

again, stick with me here. everyone already knows ravenclaws are smart & wise, but they seem to forget that ravenclaw is also the house credited with creativity. because of that, i definitely see ravenclaws on the forefront of every fashion trend, including eccentric and eclectic fashion. they get ahead of the curve and aren't afraid to try new things. sticking with the skirt theme, i see lots of layering, mixing textures/patterns, and unique pieces. they might get looks for it, but their strong sense of intuition lets them feel confident in their eccentric style.

accessories

again, this house is where creativity thrives! so i just know these students love to accessorize the fuck out of an outfit. it's what completes the look! even in their school robes, they're covered in rings, necklaces, watches/bracelets, and, most importantly, ribbons. like i said, these ravenclaws are constantly ahead of the trends! they were wearing ribbons in their hair, like, 2 seasons ago. always looking for different ways to accessorize themselves to truly express their inner artist, like nail art and fun hairstyles.

hufflepuff | masterlist

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

the counterpart

chapter 6 — done it warning, done it now

art cr: @zaunitearchives our most faithful viktor lover <3 (can you guess which one of the inspo pics belongs to me?because i wasn’t joking when i said i might start using my pictures for these silly frames — I‘M DEDICATED to this fic okay)

word count: 2,2k

VERY nsfw, horny idiots in love, dialogue dialogue dialogue, explicit language, public masturbation, vehicle sex if you will. some porn to prepare you for the chaos i may or may not cause in the next chap 🫣

part 7

—

“Do you ever feel like a pawn?” 

He turns around and his weary head tips deeper into what little comfort an old bus seat could provide, honeyed eyes a confused reproach pointed at your sheepish smile — had you dawdling over the halo of sun rays slipping prettily into the dark scatter of his hair, turning chestnut into rich, warm bourbon. 

“Since when are you interested in philosophy?”

It makes you stumble over an innocent chuckle; fingers grow flush and hot against his, threatening to slide out of the warm press of hands — to satiate the sudden whim of cradling his face and dipping your thumbs gently into the sharp lines of defined cheekbones. 

“Answer the question, Viktor.” 

Oh the forwardness. Always gives him the urge to comply no matter how ridiculous the request is — be it a hypothetical silly ‘what if’ or an actual firm demand. 

“I don’t project on inanimate objects, milackú,” he maneuvered smoothly out of your prudent trip, placing a cheeky kiss on the curious arc of your mouth. “But, in order not to digress — yes, I suppose I do. Quite occasionally. In your arms.” 

“Smooth. Bravo, Viktor — that was so sweet I might have to see a dentist now.”

“Don’t forget to send me the bill.” 

You gawked at the tooth gap in his proud grin with a hopeless sigh, leaning closer to tuck your face into the crevice of his slender neck. Couldn’t care less about the other passengers — nor did they care about you, to be frank: your seats were hidden in the back corner securely enough. Lips pressed to the fresh love bruise, so poorly covered with a mess of his unbuttoned collar — a not so humble possessive remnant of the morning tryst in his room. You craved a change of scenery: ravishing only one bed quickly becomes boring and unfair to its just as much ravished owner. 

“No, but seriously,” you kept prying, words a muffled mumble against the slim of his skin — had you smiling when you caught the subtle scent of soap on the barely exposed collarbone, and his hand found tender leverage in your hair as thoughts drifted to the delicious things he did to you in that bathroom this very morning. Even longed to hold him there for a little longer — if not for the damn bus, that was now rapidly moving towards your opportunity to flaunt. Or to become a pitiful disgrace. Unfortunately, so far you were only leaning towards the latter. 

It was Viktor’s idea. To play a local tournament — a somewhat silly for a person of his rating gathering, that he had no valid reason to attend. And yet he was so insistent on taking you there, held your hand so securely tight as you tried to fruitlessly convince him of your incompetence. Well, not incompetence, per se — you were simply a tad bit rusty, with a long forgotten dream of ever turning your passion into something professional. Endured a lengthy back and forth filled with his soft persistence and your capricious reluctance (which was secretly just a failed attempt to cover your incitement). 

Because you loved the competition. Used to live off the thrill of having people at the edges of their seats, consumed their defeated groans alongside each captured piece, and forcibly swallowed the spiteful comments spinning at the tip of your tongue during each bitter post-defeat handshake. Adored the elegant gall-spitting on the checkered board, and loved hearing people whisper malicious things whenever you entered the room. 

What happened to that version of you? Was it still there — a sharp tiny warrior, or ‘that pretentious little cunt’ — a title you wore proudly after a certain querulous opponent had revealed it to you generously all these years ago?

Well, certainly. Angry girls grow up shaped into furious women, but your fierceness is now only imposed on men, poetry and lechery. Anything but tournaments. 

And — while chess still owned your heart — you had to bow your head to the countless obstacles of life, aiming for stability; fed the vigorous child inside you countless books and analyzed hundreds of games, hoping that, eventually, that stupid yearning will be sated. 

But now you had him — your bright opponent, rated strong intermediate and highly respected in narrow circles. A player of great potential — he was everything you could’ve been by now, a living proof of one’s passion and major coexisting peacefully. Your personal Czech serpent, the gentlest hangman of your fortitude — eager to get you rated, to make you see your skills through his meticulous eyes.

So here you were. Entwined with him in the contentious privacy of this backseat, harried with occasional chokeholds of your nervousness. Viktor was waiting for your point, all flushed ears and uneven breath. 

“What I mean is,” you sighed again, tongue dancing skittishly over the front row of teeth, “don’t you ever feel so small and utterly unimportant? Like everyone else is so much more valuable?” 

“But pawns are very important,” he protested, coaxing you to quit hiding from his acute eyes, “I delivered checkmates with pawns countless times before. And so did you.“

You couldn’t argue with that logic. Just sank deeper into his arms and watched the light run through his dilated pupils — the slipping boredom of the city both of you were getting out of today. 

“Yes, but would you rather lose a pawn or… say, a rook? Or a knight? Or quite literally any other thing?” reluctant to bend to his attempts at soothing your restless mind, you refused to retreat and sweetly troubled him further. His smirk curled atop yours in a curt little touch — but one can’t kiss away a worry that excessive. Even as determined as he was to try. 

“Depends on the circumstances. Surely, choosing to lose a powerful piece over a less significant one sounds unreasonable when you put it that way — but we both know it doesn’t exactly work like that.” 

His sigh — or was it the rough scorch of the sun? — was making you melt; took care of your misery like the acidic little thing it is. Big palm stirred over the hem of a cotton dress, tracing it with a tremble, then slipping cautiously underneath — to curl around your thigh and pin it to the seat like a gentle shackle. You could still make out the grip through the sheer restraint of fabric; had your legs clenching together to trap it viciously into a crate of skin and soft little hairs: they stood on their ends oh so treacherously, each shiver palpable under the calluses of Viktor’s fingers. 

“Moje laska.” There it is again. Turning you into a dumb pile of freshly discovered weaknesses — he could burn you to ashes that very moment and you’d gladly let him get away with it, as long as that hand stayed so close to home, damp from your sweat and whatever beads of slick seeping through the soaked ruin of your underwear. If only he could reach down and throw а quivering thigh over one scrawny shoulder, tongue a trail chasing the wet deliciousness of your lust after him — just how he likes it: sweet, slow and salacious. The holy trinity of your fervent undoings.

“You’ll make them all feel like pawns,” you felt him sting the shell of your ear in a tortuous whisper, his caress tenderly cruel against what little composure left between tense legs, “I can promise you that much.” 

“We have a tournament to play, and that’s what you’re thinking about right now?” you tried to snatch the power out of his hands, but tripped over his long middle finger — so viciously close to the swollen folds. He could’ve grasped the shape of them through the obstacle of fabric if only you approved of the mischief. 

“We have a tournament to play, and you’re wasting our precious time on baseless self-consciousness. I am merely providing a pleasant distraction,” he explained, then resigned to offer you a moment of hesitation. “Unless the setting is too public for you, of course. I don’t mind proceeding in private, with less prying eyes nailed to your potential, eh… agony.” 

“My, you’re shameless.” 

“You’re one to talk. So? May I?”

Gaze quickly flipped through the row of potential witnesses, failing to notice a single giving a fuck one. Viktor waited for your permission with patiently bated breath, watching your throat move when you gulped, slightly strangled. 

“Please.” 

Lips protruded into a line — a show-off of a smirk at the eroded crumbles of your sanity. Because, indeed — your writhing was needy to its very core, legs tumbled in to coax your salvation out of him. Impatient, fitful, stubborn — your demand was impeccable in its tacit delivery, emphasized the urgency when a single fingertip brushed the entrance soft and languid, then found the wet, laced at the edges barrier. White and see-through, with a silly bow sitting prettily right on top — he watched you put them on fresh out of shower, all damp-skinned and weak-kneed, the swift slide of light fabric over the divine thick of your thighs. It’s a shame he couldn't see the mess he’d made out of them. 

A well-rehearsed route: a casual slide inside the delicate garment, a timid swipe over each plush fold. Immutable, but you liked it — begged for more into his rouge under the white shirt shoulder. It matched you so effortlessly. Though his attire was sticky only from sweat. 

Torturous. Purely, perfectly, obscenely tortuous — that’s how his finger felt, hot and slick, in a precious little roll against the swell of your clit, and you found hold of his lean thigh, nails a sharp anchor in the gentle flesh of it — squeezing hard enough to cut through his pants. And his little chuckles —  these warm brisk spurts of muffled laughter. They had your free from gnawing at him hand pressing tight against your mouth, pushing the debauched whine back into your throat until it was practically strangling you, swallowing hard to keep everyone present unaware of the stage of bliss you were going through in that damned seat. As tempted as you were to scream at the top of your burning lungs — it was best for your audience to remain unconcerned. 

Don’t get caught, don’t attract attention, don’t fuck it up — but god was it difficult when you needed so much more than just these restrained, demure cirles against your aching clit. Glassy-eyed and so tense, you silently pleaded him to keep going — a second away from rolling into his lap to fall strung up on his just as much aching cock and have him thrust your heart out in that very grimmy seat. And he would do it, always so happy to please — no doubt muttering swears towards the oblivious handful of other passengers, mourning the urge to tend to as you deserve it — full-course and thorough. 

He probably won’t fuck you in public ever again. Not where he couldn’t pay you every last neck kiss and every last lewd little word, at the very least. 

But for now he tormented you meticulously towards the sweet climax — clockwise, calculated, gentle. With an occasional flick of darkened eyes over each potential witness: to make sure he’s the only one to savor your collapse, the ever thoughtful protector of your pleasure. And there he was in your ear again — with a filthy helping of pleasantries spoken softly to ensure you get what you want. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Voice satin, motions timidly flawless. He had a bit of a hard time pronouncing it, choked on a humm so utterly awe-struck. “Oh, the things I’d do to you if only we were alone. The things I’m tempted to do to you — to hell with privacy. Being quiet doesn’t suit you, milovaná.” 

And you finally spilled. Heavy head dropped back in what could’ve been a loud lustful moan — mouth formed an eager O under the slam of your sweaty palm. Buckled knees and tiny convulsions — you came not nearly hard enough in comparison to what he usually puts you through, yet it still lanced through you and turned limbs numb, clit was sore from the remnants of your dissolving arousal, throbbing under the generous stroke of his fingertips. 

A slow orgasm — both in delivery and departure, a taunting treat that left you delightfully dizzy. You captured the warm sight of him through the fluttering cover of lashes, myriad white dots biting roughly at your vision, rubbing rudely into a sunny line that melted the ends of his wild hair into a lighter shade. His hand slid away, tremulous. Left a glossy trace all the way up to your shaking knee. Thin wrist caught a little cramp. 

“Breathe.” A sultry reminder upon the slope of your shoulder as his lips found some skin in a brief kiss. Cheeky. Self-pleased. Had you nearly sobbing in fresh desperation when he wiped two glistening fingers to a fetched out handkerchief ostentatiously. Absorbed every drop of you and tucked it back into his breast pocket — to wear you there lewdly next to his heart. 

You’ll need a few cigarettes back-to-back to recover from this.  

The bus needed fifteen more minutes to spit you out gently into the hostile arms of the competition.

—

tags: @thehistoriangirl @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

[ravereina]

Hi, can you do a (fic?) scaramouche x camgirl!reader where they know eachother in art class (highschool AU)

Ily and your posts!!<33

(Its okay, if you're not comfortable with writing this)

WHORE!

I LOVED THIS OMG OMG IM SO SORRY IF IT SUCKS THO I RUSHED IT A LOT!!

Contents: Blackmail, Dubcon, Degrading, Shy reader, Mean scara as it goes on.

ALL CHARATERS IN THIS ARE 18+

The bell rang snapping you up from your daydreams you were having about one of your friends, Scaramouche. You've always been curious about him, sure you both were friends but you always felt that there wa so much more to him than you knew.

You rushed to your last period of class which was art. You almost instantly sprang up remembering that he was in your class and that you both sat next to eachother. You walked into your class spotting Scaramocuhe facing the window. His face resting in his hand.

"Hey Scara!" you said taking a seat next to him. "Hi." He replied with a cold tone. A slight tint of blush covering his face "Huh? are you ok Scaramouche? You seem really flustered." You said with a hint of concern in your tone. "I'm fine. Its just really warm." He muttered grabbing some art supplies and working on a drawing.

You simply ignored it working on the drawing that the teacher instructed you to work on. Suddenly you broke the tense silence.

"Did something happen scaramouche? You can always tell me if something happened." You put your hands on his arm trying to comfort him. His heart swelled at your words.

He smiled softly "Lets walk to my house. I'll tell you there ok?"

You eagerly nodded your head. Constantly checking the time till school ended. As soon as the bell rang you almost shoved everything in your bag and waited for him at the door. You guys walked seemingly to his house. He stopped to open his front door,

Wondering what could be so important that he had to tell you in secret.

“I’ve seen them, Your videos.” He walked closer towards you. Your face drained pale. Thoughts racing through your head.

"H-huh? What videos..?" You tried to play dumb, Although Scaramouche saw through the poor facade you put up.

"Dont play dumb, Doing filthy things for other people." He sneered pressing in front of you as your back hit the wall. “I won't show anyone if, you let me fuck you.” He smirked. Eyes piercing into yours.

"Hu-Wait W-Wha." You tripped over your words.

“You don’t really have a choice love, Unless you want the whole school to see some of your lewd videos.” His gaze made you feel trapped and bare to him. “I wonder how the college you wanna go too would react too this.” That statement made you freeze.

"Wait scaramouche no! don-" He cut you off.

“You should think twice princess." He said, His hands caressing your shoulders trailing down your body so soothingly it made you almost forget about the situation you were in. He slowly fondled your breast throughout your shirt, rolling your nipples through his fingers.

He removed his hands from your body whining at the los of touch. "Strip." He spat removing some of his clothes. You rushed to take some off. You tried to cover some parts of your body that your undergarments couldn't cover.

"Don't be shy love, you don't seem shy showing your body off to strangers now do you?"

He said against your neck. Slowly biting and sucking your neck. Trailing down towards your breast. “Bet people tell you all the time about how pretty your body is.”

He said looking up at you for a response.

“M-mhm.” you hummed. As he shoved his hands into your panties to remove them and softly rubbing your clit. "God, you're soaked" Slipping his fingers into your cunt.

"What a whore."

He spat, Your cunt clenched around his fingers. "Heh, someone liked that, didn't they?" He teased. You shook your head out of embarrassment, trying to deny the obvious. "Scara.. come on, please." You begged. "Please what love? Tell me." He cooed.

"Fuck me please scaramouche. Need you." You pleaded loudly.

He chuckled, leading you on the couch. "Go on your hands and knees love" He ordered you. You followed his command almost instantly.

He aligned himself to your hole and slowly pushed in. You winced at the pain when he finally bottomed out. "You can move now." You whispered under your breath but just enough for him to hear it.

He started thrusting fastly into you. The only sounds hard from the room was the intense sound of skin slapping and panting coming from both of you..

"You dont know how l-long I've wanted to fuck you." He groaned pulling your hair, forcing you to arch your back.

" 's too much S-Scara!" You squealed, tears welling up in your eyes from the mix of pleasure and pain "Quit your whining bitch. You can take it." He mumbled gripping at more of your hair to hold on as he harshly thrusted into you.

"It's s-such a shame that others have seen your body, but none of them will e-ever be able to feel your tight pussy around me. He said almost smugly. ,"N-No one else! Yours Scara!!" You spewed.

"Thats fuckin right. You're mine. M'gonna breed you and keep you as mine."

The statement made you clench around him. "F-Fill me up S-Scara!" you moaned. Choked sobs emerging from your throat from him rubbing your clit.

Feeling your orgasm reaching you squealed and shut your eyes. "C-Close please,please" You babbled incoherently till you felt your orgasm crashing down upon you. Feeling him release inside of you with a grunt.

[deadpool1763492]

Weathered Strings, Tethered Wings Updates

I always forget that Tumblr exists, but I thought maybe I could start posting random updates here for my current main TMNT project, Weathered Strings, Tethered Wings.

This cover art was drawn by my amazing friend and beta reader, @joyfuladorable

Hello. I am Deadpool (also known as DP by some). The fic mentioned above is based around the 2003 iteration of TMNT, and is a Same As It Never Was AU focused more on healing than anything (with a couple of speed bumps, of course). As of now, I have five chapters live and nine queued up, with the fic updating every Saturday around midnight EST.

This master list is more for me than you guys so I can keep track of the updates I make (I'm pretty forgetful and don't want to repeat myself too much). If you're here, though, welcome to the chaos that is my unorganized mind, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Updates:

01/21/2024

01/28/2024

05/21/2024

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Read It and Weep- Part 1

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.

Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones

A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!

I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.

The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.

There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy. 

A brotherhood.

My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen. 

My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time. 

Pun so intended.

The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing. 

There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.

Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit. 

But football? 

I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point. 

Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.

Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?

It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up. 

Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.

There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.

I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait. 

 Why is everyone cheering? 

What just happened? 

Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier. 

The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance. 

They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time. 

I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force. 

Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard. 

I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground. 

My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear. 

“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.

His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them. 

I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference. 

–

From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver. 

It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through. 

But I totally did get butterflies.

But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.

Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story. 

“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug. 

“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.” 

I’m sorry? 

Dedicated?

What?

All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.

“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one. 

Me. 

“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath. 

“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.

“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.

“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”

“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.

“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.

“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful. 

“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here. 

But he did.

That matters for something, right?

Right?

“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.

“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am. 

It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of. 

Right?

“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.

“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.

“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has. 

All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.

“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”

[barblaz-arts]

What inspires you to continue drawing? I like your style, by the way.

(I'm using a translator, I don't know how to speak English well, sorry hehe)

Don't apologize, it's ok. Using a second language is always a feat.

I feel like as long as I have some fictional characters that I am extremely attached to, I will always draw. I've just always been drawing. When I was a kid, before the internet was a huge thing, I'd draw my fan comics for stuff like Soul Eater and Bleach and Fairy Tail on countless lined notebooks. I used to make my own mangas with original characters and design the covers like manga covers as a teenager. I just love being able to see on paper the things my fixated little mind comes up with.

I just love art and fiction and the creativity we get to do with both. Whether I'm a thirteen year old drawing on a shoddy notebook that my classmates would pass around or an adult posting in the internet for all you guys to see, every bit of drawing I've made was done with a lot of love for art and fiction.

And the gays. Can't forget the gays.