#trying to draw without letting out the perfectionist side

[mittch22]

Acer is getting pretty ticked off with Grems drunken antics.

[mistercesare]

soooo we and my friend (@arrrrimo on twitter) were brainstorming a prohibitedwish roleswap au!!! and i made some concepts for it!!

more au info unfer the cut

God-Auditor!Prismo here kinda has his canon personality?? he is chill and fun and loved by everyone!!! but he is. terrifying actually. like he can get through any little crack, he doesn't get tired of running, and there's no predicting if he decides to let you off the hook or not

and if he lets someone go everyone will go "he's such a chill guy! how cool of him" and if he doesn't well he just does his job right?? so his reputation is kinda invincible but everyone are a little uncomfortable around him because well. he's still a god-auditor you don't wanna let him see your fuckups

AND WISHMASTER!SCARAB i love him so much actually

he's still you know a perfectionist jerk but there's no eons of pent-up rage and urge for revenge so he's much more calm

also he has no problem with everyone disliking him he likes his job he worked hard to get it and he does it as he should so everyone else can fuck off🥰

he hates when people wish without thinking tho he sees it as DISRESPECTFUL (and also he loves watching drama play out and missed opportunity pisses him off) we actually thought of a version of him and jake meeting like in canon with prismo and scarab being so mad at jake not wishing something important that he hands him a bunch of records and says to sit there until he comes up with something FITTING

scarab is interesting for prismo bc hes the only one who is not afraid if him. like he KNOWS he's doing everything by the book and there's nothing prismo can do. also scarab keeps sending complaints to orbo about prismo's work which is hilarious

scarab on his side starts off disliking prismo for not doing his job properly then starts disliking him even more bc now he constantly hangs around the cube and annoys him (scarab is convinced prismo is just trying to make him mess up so he can catch him red-handed) to you know. liking having someone around who listens to you infodumping ab multiverse

(pleeeaseeee check out these drawings by arrrimo!!! https://twitter.com/Arrrrimo/status/1711749762121077130?t=g4KX0wPydGkg0f1dO5vdrA&s=19)

[thecameronchronicles]

Sweeter Than Sprinkles

TW: smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: It’s your birthday! And Drew is going to go out of his way to make it special…

WORD COUNT: 1900

*Requested*

Sweeter Than Sprinkles

There was only one thing you had asked Drew for for your birthday. Of all of the things he could have gotten you; VIP tickets to any one of your favorite bands, clothes or jewelry just to spoil you, or even a lavish trip somewhere outside of the home you shared together, you optioned for something else entirely. 

Him. 

Of course, he’d tease you with the reminder that he was already yours while broadcasting that adorable yet contagious smile, until you had elaborated that you wanted it to be just the two of you. For the last several months he had been pulled to every corner of the world, and even in the times in which he would try to make it special for you, his obligations left your time together either rushed or cut short by a last minute schedule change. Because of this, you craved the intimacy without interruption, and Drew was a perfectionist when it came to making you happy. 

You couldn’t fight the shift your body made in the early hours of the morning as a familiar set of fingers had pulled to a curl over your thighs and parted them just wide enough to fit his cheeks against them. 

“Just relax, sweetheart��let me take care of you this morning…” He explained, motions slow and steady but still victorious in his stride as every line made with his tongue had brought your lips to part in those decadent moans. 

As your fingers played through his hair, the short strands left that way for his upcoming roles, you struggled to find anything efficient enough to grip as this would ultimately lead your hands on the sheets crumpled from your reckless movements. For stabilization, he pressed his forearm across your waist, applying just enough pressure to keep you from bucking against him too wildly so he could keep his pace. 

“Please, Drew…I want to touch you…” 

Suddenly, he withdrew, forcing your eyes to shoot open as he wiped his bottom lip with his thumb before licking the remaining slick from his lips. 

“This is all about you, baby…” He teasingly bit your hip before drawing a line of kisses across your waist and pulling your legs over his shoulders. When he returned to you this time, he was a man on a mission, feasting on the natural reactions of your body that left you feeling mesmerized with his consumption. Even if your body was already used to these actions, the simple difference in speed or depth was enough for a varied transcendence than what you were used to. But the trust you had in him and the love you shared would have you simply along for the ride as he was just as thorough as he was giving. 

Seemingly within seconds, he would pull you to your orgasm as your body trembled around him, his words of endorsement spoke between licks and sucks aided to this final push as you would coat him in a release he’d more than earned. 

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” You blushed, eyes rolling to savor this bliss before he would pull himself to the base of the bed, allowing you a gift all its own in his bare torso. 

“Drew…I don’t feel right not..” He moved to you, a soft hand guiding you to look up to him. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done. But we have all day…and I want to make sure you understand just how loved you are…and wanted…” He bit his lip as your body came into perfect view to him, still wearing the side effects of your release in your heaving chest and blushed cheeks-both of which were unfair to his want to remain chivalrous and keeping the focus exclusively to you. 

“I do…But…come back to bed…” You whined, pulling at his forearm which tightened in reservation as he clenched his teeth. 

“I want to wait…” Your eyes narrowed. “I want to spend the entire day kissing you and holding you…and then tonight…I want all of you…”

“You COULD have that now…” You teased as he took a playful grip to your jaw and led your lips to his. 

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart…” He gave one final kiss before moving to the side of the bed and into the bathroom, where you joined him to continue your usual morning routine; breakfast, teeth, and the constant flirtations accelerated in his ambition to leave every second of this day devoted to you. 

There wasn’t a second of the day in which you didn’t feel his love. Whether it was the gifts he showered you with in the form of a first edition of your favorite classic book, the conversation of your shared future while sharing lunch at your favorite restaurant, or the lack of distance that came in his hands or lips always connected to you, you were showered with his admiration at every turn. But as the hours altered from day to night and your more sultry of desires returned to you beyond his sweetness, you were allowing these needs to come across to him in your own inability to keep your hands to yourself. 

“Can we go home?” You asked into his ear as he had arranged for a birthday dinner with your closest friends, including the OBX cast. Having been showered with wishes of a good day and gifts that were far too luxurious than what you felt you deserved, you gave them grateful words and hugs, before feeling Drew guide you back home. 

From the moment the car stilled outside of the apartment, your body was in his hands. He was tender with each kiss but almost calculating in the way his tongue ran lines among your own. When you’d maon, he’d pull you tighter, and when your fingers wrapped in desperation around his biceps, he would drive his own touch into fists made up of the fabric of your dress. And yet he did not seem in a rush to get you behind the door of your shared space. Instead, he would keep you in the hall, kissing the exposed skin of your neck and whispering how you were always so soft and always smelled so sweet, driving that heat between your legs to an uncomfortable sweltering. 

“Drew…” You breathed as he slowly nodded, turning you to face the door before finally allowing you inside. But where you would have been too distracted by your desire to notice even a dish left within the sink, your eyes certainly could not miss the display set before you now. 

Rose petals coated every inch of the ground as candles illuminated everything in sight. Soft music played on your vinyl in the far corner as you made your way inside and he closed the door at your back. 

“When did you do this? You were with me all day?”

“Bathroom break at the restaurant when Madelyn ‘had to talk’.” You slowly nodded, now understanding, with a humored smirk, why she suddenly felt so passionately about the new Starbucks flavors and your need to hear about them. You grinned before shaking your head in disbelief. 

“You did all of this for ME?”

“Why do you sound so surprised, baby? I would do anything for you…” Tears filled your eyes as he collected your cheeks within his hands, “I love you…” 

“I love you too…” He licked his lips prior to a kiss he knew would hold longevity as it quickly altered from sweet to sultry. The need to remain chivalrous and selfless discarded him along with his clothes until he was able to feel your skin at one with his. And yet, it appeared he was not quite done surprising you as he lifted you onto the dining room table in place of the bed, which would have been closer as well as more comfortable. 

“Can’t forget your cake….” He said with a smile, slipping into the fridge and producing a single cupcake. Illuminating the candle with a single flicker of his lighter, he held it before your lips as your eyes locked to him. 

“I wish-”

“You know what they say if you say your wish out loud-” He warned as you leaned closer to him. 

“There isn’t anything else I COULD wish for…” You admitted as he looked to the confectionate between his fingers before slowly nodding in understanding, a saccharine idea rushed across his mind. With mischief worn over his expression, he pulled the cupcake to your lips, only to ‘accidentally’ drop it down your chest. 

“I’m so sorry, baby-and on your BIRTHDAY, too. Don’t worry…I’ll get it.” He promised, inciting moans from his motions as he prepared your legs for a second round of oral pleasure as you took his face between your palms. 

“I want YOU, Drew…Please…”

“Why would I do that when you taste sweeter than sprinkles for me?” You struggled to take him seriously with his comment as he was quick to redirect your focus as he led a single line of the frosting to your thigh licking it off, and repeating this process until he was doing so between your folds. 

“I think we’re out of frosting-”

“Fuck the frosting-” You had reached your limit as you pulled him up to you, a smile broken by your kiss, as you brought him inside of you. Once the more tender events of the day were now behind you as blissful memories of just how favored you were by friends and family, you were now taken behind the door of your bedroom to be shown just how you were adored by your lover. 

Kept against the wall beside the door for a time, he would keep you pinned beneath him until he was certain he had kissed every inch of your body. Whatever clothing remained was disheveled at your feet before you were lifted once again to the bed, set intertwined beneath him as he continued these deep kisses until finally leading himself between your thighs. 

“Fuck…” He breathed deeply, every unsheathing feeling like the first time as you could feel your body begin to rise to that blissful crescendo impossibly quickly before he swept you over him in a straddle. Your favorite position, one you told him often, as it allowed you some sense of control, he kept you there for a moment before driving his hand along your cheek and setting at the back of your neck. 

“I want you like this…all night…as long as you want…I want to spend every second of the rest of today making you feel good…So make yourself feel good-use me…please baby…Just-just please use me to make yourself feel good.” He groaned as you began softly, allowing yourself to build to that precipice before offering a slow decline as sweat and ache joined together along with your desperations. 

“Drew! I need-I need you to come with me! Please!” You pleaded as you were suddenly set onto your back as his body was quick to obey. Hiking your knee to your chest, he kissed you once more with final compassion before pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Feel how deeply I love you baby…” He explained as he led his cock to the depths of your body while you trembled beneath him. 

“I love you, I love you-” He continued these words until they faded on the cusp of his release, having been the last thing you heard on the final moments of your birthday, validating your greatest gift was the man who loved you with everything he was in the same way you adored him in return…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-Is @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era

[ro-written]

The Dance Studio Fiasco - C.Soobin

Tags/Warnings: Tsundere!Soobin, Sickeningly cute, VAGUE E2L, College!AU, Forced Proximity, reader gets a tiny injury and it draws blood

Word count: 0.9k

“A word from you…and I will set you on fire, Choi Soobin.”

The man - boy more like it - stood smirking as you worked at getting the door open. The two of you had somehow managed to get trapped in the smallest dance studio in the gym. No windows, just two mirrors, and not enough space for you to be as far away from him as possible.

And with 5 minutes till the gym closes, you had no hope.

“With what matches, mm?” His head cocked to the side as the stupid dimples came out in his cheeks. Your instructors always fell for those dimples. Made him into an angel. I knew better than that though.

“I don’t know Choi, get creative. Or is that possible for you, with the B minus you got in our last choreography practical?” You bit back, standing up. His eyes lit up with fury, as you simply smiled sardonically. It hit him particularly hard, you knew that. Ever the perfectionist.

“You know, we wouldn’t even be in this position if you had left the door open!” He stepped closer, towering over you in what you could only assume to be an intimidation tactic.

It was slightly working, but you would never admit that to yourself.

“You do realize that these doors aren’t supposed to lock us IN, but keep people OUT?” Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, you refused to step back or back down. He stared you down, and something about his intense glare made your face warm. Before your entire face was on fire, you shook your head and turned to walk around the room, finding any possible sign of an exit. 

Feeling along the wall absentmindedly, you suddenly ran your hand across something sharp. A jolt of pain flashed through your body as you let out a sharp gasp and quickly brought the palm back to your body.

“Shit.” The cut started to fill with a crimson color. 

“What happened?” Soobin came over from where he was pulling at the door handle. His eyebrow quirked as he saw you holding your palm. He actually seems to be somewhat concerned. Funny.

“Stupid fucking nail sticking out of the wall. It cut me.” He suddenly grabbed your wrist and brought your hand close to his face. Something about where he was holding the joint started to tingle. Probably from the blood…

“I have a first aid kit in my bag. Come here.” He gently pulled your arm over to where his belongings lay. You were still in shock by the sudden shift in his behavior to shake your wrist loose, so you allowed him to continue.

Pulling out the kit, he turned towards you.

“Sit.”

“I don’t answer to you, Choi. I’m not your dog.” You sneered. Yes, he was trying to take care of you, but what if there was some ulterior motive? 

“Are you serious right now?” He stared with a blank expression as if reading your mind. When he realized you weren’t going to simply sit because he told you to, he huffed out a breath and sat down himself. He then stared up at you expectantly, the kit sitting in his lap. He had a tight lip smile with his eyes narrowed, dimples peeking through again.

You caved and awkwardly managed to sit down without getting your blood on the floor. 

“Thank you.” He grabbed your wrist again, staring at the injury and figuring out what he needed to do. “You need to be more careful. Surprised you haven’t broken something so far.”

Even though you registered them, his words weren’t what you were focused on. You weren’t even thinking about a snarky line to come back.

You were, unfortunately, focused on the way your knees were brushing his. Every time he shifted, he pressed more into you. His hand gripped your wrist in a firm yet gentle way, to not hurt you but make sure your hand moved how he wanted. His breath fanned across your hand as he blew to cool the irritation. His eyelashes fluttered against his skin. He sucked in his lips, dimples showing yet again. But for some reason, it didn’t irritate you this time as they usually did. 

“I need to wipe it with an alcohol wipe, okay? It’s gonna burn.” He looked up at you to find you gazing intensely at him. It took him aback, a sharp breath sucked in. 

“Sorry,” you blinked fast, looking back down at your palm. ���Yeah that’s…I’m fine, that’ll be fine. I don’t mind.” Stupid. You stumbled on your words, tossing everything that came to mind out. He nodded curtly. Grabbing out a wipe, he ripped the package and hesitated before wiping. He then moved to gently wipe at the cut, and a hiss came out of you.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes widened and whipped up to look at him. That was the first time he’s ever apologized to me. Ever. In an unsarcastic way. This all felt too confusing, your head dizzy from his reactions.

“S–....Soobin?” He looked up as he stopped moving his hand. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyebrow twitched. He looked down at something, but it seemed like he wasn’t actually looking at it. Moreso, he was in his head.

“I…” He started, his eyes coming back up to look at you. Something in them was new. Some emotion you had never seen before from him and that you couldn’t place. His mouth was opened slightly, and the shape of his lips was something you had never noticed until now. How the ends were slightly curved upwards, almost like a bunny’s.

But suddenly, his face shifted, and he huffed out a laugh. But there was only a slight bit of amusement behind it.

“I just don’t want you bleeding all over the room.”

[holofoiltowercard]

The Journey of The Tarot Haiku

XIII: Death - Cycles

I'll do my best to really concentrate on the project itself in this post, because I want to stay on track, and also to show all the different deaths and rebirths and metamorphoses it went through, as did I.

As I have said earlier, it was born as a single poem in response to an optional thought exercise. I always hoped I would one day write a book, but when that first poem came to me, the fact that it could become a whole book was not immediately in my mind (I thought my first might be a novel, if only I could pull my creative energies together in that direction). I had a single poem, and then its pair, and only when a few more came along did I start considering the possibility, which is a good thing, because it told me that I finally had something that sprouted naturally rather than me going, "it would be cool if I did this." Let me explain.

Through my life I have often struggled with where my art was coming from. It is probably my being autistic, but I began my art journey by copying what I saw, and I spent a lot of my life trying to imitate others to fit in, even if I didn't understand what I was doing or what they were doing, and it showed. One time my art teacher told us to make a collage, and I did not understand collages at all, so I mechanically complied with the concept by pasting random cut out stuff onto paper without any rhyme or reason - because there were none on my end to apply. My teacher looked at it and said I did it wrong, and of course I did! I was just imitating the concept of collages without any original thought or plan. And this wasn't the only time I found myself doing art a certain way just because everyone was doing that sort of thing and I wanted desperately to fit in (and then didn't because the art was clearly not coming from my heart).

The poems were different. The Tarot was dear to my heart and I enjoyed toying with poetry on the rare occasion, and I was mostly cut off from others while studying the Tarot. I realized I was not copying anyone this time, but genuinely pursuing something from the heart. That was the first metamorphosis, where a simple thought exercise started becoming a serious project, and I, a Tarot casual, became a deep diver in order to do justice to the Tarot, the poems, and my perfectionist side who wanted to get it right.

Then the manuscript was born and I started drawing again after letting my drawing skills gather dust for years. The poems transformed again and started gaining structure and shape. From a person without original ideas, I went to being a writer who was drawing from their own well of creativity to create poems. It was an amazing feeling. I remember how much hope surged within me as I continued to finish illustrations and structure the layout and insert everything into place.

The first death came when I burned out and collapsed. The poems were put to rest for over a year - I didn't even know if I would ever touch them again, despite that soft, tired murmur in my heart that they were good, and they were important. Then the two crashes came in succession, and I almost lost it all. Afterwards the first thing I did was open the Scrivener file, copy out every single poem from the myriads of little files and folders I tucked them into, and create a single Word document containing every single one, including the extra poems that didn't make the cut. I also printed it out to have a physical copy I could keep (if anything happened again I could retype it, I told myself), and when all the poems were finished, I completed that document and printed it out again to have it all safe.

And what do you know, I ended up having to redo the whole thing in Word, because I couldn't make my original manuscript agree with Kindle Create - sure, it loaded, but it looked off, and because it accepts both Word documents and PDFs, I realized that the best way was to finally figure out how to do upside down text in Word, and then format the whole thing. I actually managed to do it in a day, and I owe that to the many days I spent tinkering with it in CSP: I already knew what the layout had to look like, so once I figured out how to replicate it in Word, it was only a matter of copy pasting everything, so I put the OST of The Neverending Story on loop and got to it. (It's on Spotify and the whole soundtrack is amazing. Big nostalgia trip too, the movie came out the year I was born!)

And so the project was born again, became a PDF, and then a self-published book, with it going though a final transformation to meet the guidelines for paperback and hardcover... and here I am also, hoping that this will be a rebirth and metamorphosis for me too.

Buy the ebook

Buy the paperback

Buy the hardcover

[cupidstwin333]

Hi, I would like an Obey Me matchup for my OC if that's okay.

Name: Parvana Chowdhury

Race: Human

Pronouns: She/her

Ethnicity: Bangladeshi

Birthday: November 20 (Sagittarius sun)

Height: 165 cm

Likes: Books, herbal tea, classical music, lofi hip-hop, video games, anime, drawing, spicy food, affogato

Dislikes: Incompetence, unnecessary conflicts, bullies, fake friends, dishonesty, cruelty, dog-eared book pages, anyone who dares threaten her family, loud noises

Personality and interests: Parvana is calm, collected and hard-working. She has a self-possessed air that makes her come across as cold and arrogant. While she can be a bit arrogant sometimes, especially in leadership positions, she is careful not to let it get out of hand. Her hard-working, curious and perfectionistic nature as well as her academic intelligence (though she sometimes struggles with impostor syndrome.) has gained the attention and praise of many teachers and other adults throughout her childhood. It has helped her get into university to study engineering but it also isolated her from her peers and her younger sister, Saima. She has also found herself becoming increasingly overwhelmed with the workload from university and thus procrastinates more than she deems acceptable. Despite her cold facade, she cares deeply about her friends and especially her younger sister, so she tries to make as much time for them as possible. She’s also more of a romantic than she lets on. Parvana has a tradition to bake the people she’s closest to a cake on their birthday. Sometimes she gives it to them a couple days late due to her workload.

I hope this is enough information. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

After a long time of thinking 💭 your match is…

Barbatos

Background:

You are exhausted, you stayed up all night studying for a test, but it all paid off in the end. There is no way in hell (literally) that you didn’t ace that test. You leave the classroom as it is finally time to head back to the house of lamentation, but before you can leave the RAD building someone stops you. It’s Barbatos, Lord Diavolo’s loyal servant. This can’t be good.. what does he want from you. “Excuse me, Miss Parvana-“ you interrupt him before he can finish his sentence “Please just call me Parvana without the miss.” Barbatos tilts his head to the side as he tries to take in your appeal. “Very well.. Parvana..” he continues uneasy “Lord Diavolo has requested me to check up on you.” You have to look up to make eye contact with Barbatos because of how tall he is. “What? I’ve been doing all of my tasks and I’ve only been getting good grades. Why has Lord Diavolo requested a checkup? I don’t understand.” You ask offended. “This isn’t about your school performance but rather about your personal well-being. So if you don’t mind could you please follow me.” Barbatos says as he takes you to an empty room away from the crowded hallway. There are two huge bookshelves on both sides of the room and in the middle of the room there was a luxury solid wood desk, that looked very expensive. You scan the room in awe. “Please take a seat miss- I mean Parvana.” You throw him a quick look before you take a seat opposite of him. “So what did you mean when you said that you had to check up on my personal well-being?” You ask with narrowed eyes. “Well, I noticed that you’ve been overworking yourself quite a bit lately and the young master had thus agreed that I should check up on you. Have you been taking enough time to rest lately?” Barbatos asks without taking his eyes off of you. It looks like he was trying to find the answer to his question by just looking at you. You didn’t like how they were trying to act like they cared about things such as your personal well-being that was just nonsense. You’ve experienced near death situations here, they could all just kill you in the end. The only reason why you’re still alive is because you’re a valuable pawn in Diavolio’s project, so that’s why you have decided to just focus on your tasks and studies to get out of here. “Why does it suddenly matter if I rest or not? Wasn’t I just here to help Lord Diavolo with his project?” You ask annoyed. God, you just wanted this year to finish already, so you could finally see your sister again back in the human world. “Believe it or not but lord Diavolo wouldn’t want you to put your health at risk by overworking yourself.” Barbatos says as his eyes softened his tone was laced with sincerity. “If I just finish my work like he asked then he shouldn’t have a reason to complain about something as stupid as that.” You retort more angry this time. “But Parvana can’t you see that your mental and physical health is to utmost importance here?” Barbatos says concerned. “How can we not worry about that?” You squint your eyes in suspicion. “We? Why do you care now?” Barbatos let’s out a sigh. “Parvana I’ll give you two options. I’ll either have to get the young master involved or you’ll let me personally help you.” Barbatos says ignoring your previous remark, suddenly his whole demeanour changed to a more serious one. “Is ‘none of the above’ an option?” You try. Barbatos just shakes his head. “Okay, I guess I’d rather not disturb Diavolo with this..” you mumble giving up. Barbatos smiles “I promise I will work hard to guide you to live a healthier life.” He says with an determined glint in his eyes. “Not as the the servant of Lord Diavolo, but as someone who cares.”

How it started:

It was currently 2:53 AM and you were putting your finishing touches on Barbatos’ birthday cake. It had been months since Barbatos had told you that he’d help you take better care of yourself, and you have grown so much closer to him. You came to realize that he is an amazing friend, but lately you’ve started to notice that you were developing feelings for him. “Ugh I knew I should’ve started earlier with my schoolwork, now I’m overworking myself again. Barbatos wouldn’t be happy with that.” You mumble tired. You’ve been working all day just so you could spend time with Barbatos tomorrow, you had yet to figure out an excuse to meet up with him as you wanted to surprise him. But that was a problem you had to deal with tomorrow. You shake your head as you tried to keep yourself from falling asleep. “Do I smell cake?” In the background, you could hear a tired Beelzebub making his way to the kitchen. Suddenly every muscle in your body was wide awake. If Beelzebub got a glance at this cake it was over. You quickly put the cake in its box and closed it. You tried to hide the cake as you made your way to the door, but you were met with a hard chest. “Parvana? Did you also smell cake?” Beelzebub asks you half awake. “Yeah I did- Uhm if you look for the pink demon dwarf he’ll tell you where to find it.” You blurt out panicking. Beelzebub was too tired to comprehend what you were saying as he just nods and walks into the kitchen looking for the first pink thing he could find. You quickly run to your room and hid the box under your bed. You then lay in your bed with a relieved sigh and before you knew it you fell asleep. The next morning you got woken up by the sound of hard knocking. Confused and tired you grabbed your D.D.D to look at the time ‘9:30AM August 22’ your eyes grew wide as you looked at the time and date. “Parvana!” Another loud knock made you snap back to reality. “What!?” You yell back as you got up to open your door. Your eyes met with Lucifer’s. Shit. You thought to yourself. It was never good news with Lucifer. “I’m sorry for yelling but what do you want...?” you ask avoiding eye contact. “Did I wake you up?” Lucifer asks with narrowed eyes. “Yes, you did.” You retort back. “Well Lord Diavolo has summoned you to his castle.” He says ignoring your grumpy morning state. “You’re expected to arrive at 10 AM, so get ready and I’ll provide your transportation.” You give lucifer a confused look. Diavolo has summoned me? For what? You were low-key stressing but before you could ask Lucifer anything he shuts the door in your face.

Soon you arrive at the Demon Lords Castle, you took Barbatos’ birthday cake with you in a tote bag in hopes that you would see him today or maybe after this. “Parvana did you get my invitation?” You look up and to your surprise, your eyes are met with Barbatos’. “Wait you’re the one that asked for me, not Diavolo?” You ask confused. “That is correct.” He says with a smile. “I had an inkling that you’ve been overworking yourself lately.” You let out a gasp. “Who me? I would never!” You lie blatantly. Barbatos just shakes his head in disappointment but soon a smile creeps on his face. “That is why I was hoping you would like to go on a shopping trip with me, to help you relax a bit.” He says with longing eyes. “A shopping trip?” He nods at your confused expression. Even though you were confused you decided to go along with it anyway, maybe you could surprise him later. The thought of surprising him with the birthday cake made you smile in anticipation.

“What are we shopping for anyway?” You ask as you look around the big store. “I want to make different herbal tea recipes for the young master.” He says as he stops in front of the spices aisle. “I would like your assistance.” You nod as you help him look for the spices that would make for the best herbal tea. Barbatos is soon satisfied with all your input and opinions. You both quickly head back to the castle. Barbatos starts making his different recipes whilst he plays some classical music in the background. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, he looks so good in the kitchen. Your thoughts got cut short. “Would you like to taste test them, Parvana? Just so I know which ones to keep for the young master.” You agree a little flustered by your previous thoughts but manage to quickly pull yourself together. Barbatos serves you a variety of different herbal teas, each one unique to the other.

“Is it to your liking, Parvana?” Barbatos asks after you take a sip of the last herbal tea he made. “It’s actually very nice, I think this one might be my favorite.” You say, enjoying the warmth and relaxing feeling of the tea. Barbatos gives you a loving smile.“But.. it’s missing something..” you say as you hold your chin in a thinking manner. “What is the tea missing?” Barbatos asks with a frown. “I think I might just have the answer.” You say playfully as you tell him to close his eyes. Confused he complies. You quickly grab the birthday cake from your tote back and set it up in front of him. After taking the lighter on the counter and lighting up the candle that you placed in the center of the cake you tell him to open his eyes. Barbatos blinks his eyes in shock. “Happy birthday Barbatos!” You exclaim excitedly. “Did you prepare this for me?” He asks shocked. “Yes and I think this would go amazing with your herbal tea.” You laugh at Barbatos’ shocked face. “Thank you Parvana... Let me repay you.” He says with a slight blush on his face. “Repay me how?” You ask with anticipation. “Let me repay you with a date.”

General headcanons:

💘 You once told Barbatos that you liked this human made dessert called the affagato and he learned how to make it just to surprise you.

💘 Barbatos loves your drawings and always frames the ones you give him and puts them in places where he can admire them.

💘 After you both started dating Barbatos started calling you princess and also treats you as one.

💘Barbatos isn’t effected by your cold and arrogant personality.

Other possible matches: Satan and Beelzebub

[delightfuldevin]

I just realized I don’t know much about your S/I personality wise!! I can’t draw without a vibe, so please tell me more about them!

How they hold themselves, how they interact with others (friends vs family vs strangers), likes and dislikes, his typical day, any just general vibe!!

I’m not really all that good at describing my own personality so uh, bear with me here hsbcjscbjsc

I think maybe the best way to describe him is that he lives by my philosophy of “the meaning of life is to find your own enjoyment out of it”. He’s fun loving and goofy and almost annoyingly optimistic. One of his favorite activities is fighting, and his opponents, whether friend or foe, would describe his fighting style as something more akin to dancing. He’s also always smiling in battle, which can come across as overconfidence, but also somewhat unnerving.

He is an ambivert, but leans more on the extroverted side. Waking up to his family energizes him and he is rarely drained socially unless he’s being dragged along to somewhere extremely loud and crowded. He almost never starts his day alone, but if ever he does, it can make him feel more tired and not want to get out of bed.

He’s somewhat of a perfectionist and a little too competitive sometimes. He takes failure really hard and beats himself up about it, but that’s something he’s trying to work on and let loose about more.

He is verrrry physically affectionate and hugs and kisses pretty much everyone who he considers a friend or family. When he is hanging out with someone regardless of what they’re doing, he will always be clinging to them in some way, like holding their hand or arm, sitting really close to them, etc. There are only a few exceptions to this, and most of them are not because he doesn’t want to, but rather the person on the receiving end doesn’t want it and he respects that.

Uhhh I hope this was a good enough answer. I had to cut out a decent amount cause it was getting too personal for my tastes chgfhfhhjnb. My S/I really is Just Me, and I’m in a tough spot right now so certain aspects of me right now are a bit of a downer lol. Thank you for asking!!

[actiniumwrites]

Hiii, actinium! Truly thank you for letting me send an entry still and also big congrats on hitting 1k yourself! It's much deserved for sure! :3

Name: Dust

About Me/Personality:

I'm an introvert through and through. My mbti is INFJ.

I have always been the shy and quiet girl my entire life and I need people to come to me when they want to get to know me because, oh lord, I'm horrible at making the first move.

I unfortunately can sometimes be a bit stubborn and have a hard time accepting things or seeing my own mistake. Comes from being a huge perfectionist. This also comes with always being a hard working and having a tendency to overwork myself because I realize way too late when I'm exhausted and in need of a break.

Generally I'd say I always try to see the good in people and love hanging out with them, but social interaction can quickly exhaust me too and I will need some time to recharge my social batteries. This isn't so much the case for people I'm really close to though. Around those I'm comfortable with I'm not too shy to let out a bit of my crazier side. I love goofing around with friends and loved ones and I can be quite sarcastic. Shamelessly admitting that I love dad jokes and can crack one or two here and there at times.

My self-confidence never has been the highest and I generally get a bit nitpicky about myself at times.

I'm often pretty busy so my partner will have to be able to deal with that.

My love language is physical touch all the way. I'm in need of many hugs. I also love sleeping in together while cuddling.

Hobbies/Passions: I love gaming, drawing, writing, reading, cooking/baking and gardening.

Some things you like and dislike:

I like: Reliability, honesty, politeness, punctuality (I really really hate it when people are too late), small acts of love that show me that the other person thinks of me even if they're busy (e.g. bringing me a drink, leaving me a note etc.), people with a good sense or humor and some goofyness.

I dislike: Pretty much the opposites of everything I mentioned above, as well as people who never take anything I say serious, condescending people, unnecessary drama or being pulled into drama

Your ideal date:

Just hanging out, watching TV/reading books is nice. I also love cuddling without needing many words or depending on my mood initiating some deep talk or discussing about things. Or literally just spending time in the same room, knowing the other one is there while each one is doing their work (practically being alone together, if that makes sense)

Gender of Character: Male

I think that is pretty much it! this has gotten pretty long now haha, oops sorry! thank you again for making an exception. I'm looking forward who you're going to match me with! :3

I MATCH YOU WITH . . .

ZHONGLI!

TROPE: STRANGERS TO LOVERS

it was a rather warm night when you met zhongli for the first time. there was a calming breeze and a slight spray of the ocean drifting through the harbor

you were sat against a bench, in a more quiet part of the harbor where only a few citizens lingered. nevertheless, it was your favorite part of the city

the flowers that surrounded the area made it all the more peaceful, alongside the trees that rattled every now and then with the breeze

suddenly, your peace was intruded upon by a rather tall stranger, with beautiful brown hair and the kindest looking eyes you had ever seen

“ah, it has truly been awhile since i’ve been over here. many years ago, this was my favorite corner of the city. one of the only places i’ve been able to find true peace.”

you didn’t say anything in response, too startled by his sudden presence. yet, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away

and so, you allowed him to stay

eventually, you learned his name was zhongli and how he worked at the funeral parlor, along with a million other details, of course. there was something oddly calming about him, almost like the night around you

although you didn’t speak much, it was okay with him. zhongli spent the entire night talking to you, and as the night passed on, you began to speak with him more and more too

a few hours prior, you would have never spoken to him in your life. you could’ve never guessed the man sitting in front of you now would become your partner for life

[adriabrentdano]

"Celebrate Little Successes"

Oh, Hi there let me present myself,I'm Adrian brent Daño a simple boy but not just a simple boy, this boy has a lot of dreams on life that want to achieve someday. Anyways, you will see that loud and energetic but the truth is I'm a introvert person, don't want to get mistakes and also I'm a perfectionist person but even I try to be a perfect person I can't still get it that's why I'm trying my best on every thing that I'm doing .I find myself very dry and boring person, I used to be a loud person when I'm comfortable to that person and there's a lot and lot more about myself. Actually I have  a lot of hobbies, I'm just random things whenever I feel bored for example is cooking, I love cooking because it is the way on  how I express myself and when I'm cooking I'm just like a full of beans.Whenever I'm curious I'm starting to do it. I'm a person that has a full of curiosity in this world that always want an answer to every questions in my mind that why cooking perfectly fits to me. And other one is drawing,this is one of my random hobbies. I love drawing because it also express myself and infact I'm a very creative person and has a lot of ideas flying  in my head, I'm just lazy to do it. But trust me if I'm serious on what I'm doing , I will give all of my best and time to make sure  that particular thing perfect .I think my true hobby is just laying down in my bed all day and doing nothing like a couch potato just watching videos and doing other nonsense stuff. 

         In the past months, I'm just studying and doing things that I want, just hanging up my with my friends something like that.I feel drained this past few months, I think because of those ton of works, activities and homework in school but it is a life  of student and theres nothing I can do about that. I do it everyday endlessly my mom said like I'm busy like a bee because I have no time for my self, no time to sleep and barely eat in a day,. Since I transferred in SPXI I met a lot of people and some of them are now my friends and It feels like I'm out of there league. I'm not a fan of going out, I'm always in our house just doing our household chores.This feeling always makes me feel bored, just going to school, work, study again and again and again and again and I feel like the destiny's eyes is not smiling for me.The strengths that I discovered is that I can stand on my own feet without the help of other people because I realized that there's no people in my side that is ready to help me when I'm in my deepest  part of my life that's why I learned to be strong and independent person. My weaknesses is I can't defend my self from other people, I always sit down in the corner of the room and do nothing after the bad things happen to me, it feels like the  brutal wind bullied me into giving up it's autumn leaves, infact I'm a kind of person that is full of weakness rather than strength but I dont take my weaknesses as a negative but I use it to be a better person in my life, this weaknesses and strength is the witness that even the sun smiled down to me I will never give until I achieve my dreams. I will never let my weaknesses wins against me, they said that life is to short not to dance so I'm just enjoying it and just letting my problems fly away to this harsh world of life.

Thought I'd hang around today 

Come what will and come what may

Take it easy breath a bit

Toxic stress time to emit

[detectivehannibal]

Studying with Hannibal Lecter

__

Hannibal Lecter x Student! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cock warming.

Request: Hannibal x fem student reader? She’s trying to focus amd write her exam online but hanni gets horny from watching her?smut pleeeeeeaze

A/N: Disclaimer that the reader is over the age of 18!

__

Going back to college you finish your education was one of the best and worst ideas you ever had.

There were definitely pros and cons to the situation.

The pros were that you were working toward achieving something that you could use for the rest of your life.

You would be able to consider yourself an expert in your field.

Not to mention the bragging rights.

On the flip side, you were always slammed with work and all the studying you were doing was giving you flash backs to high school.

It didn’t help that you were a perfectionist, and that you would literally study until you fell asleep or Hannibal dragged you away to bed.

Hannibal is more than happy to share his home office with you, allowing you to sit at his large desk and use whatever material you might need.

Hannibal tries not to bother you when you’re studying or working on an assignment.

He’ll poke his head in every so often to make sure you don’t need anything.

He’ll bring you tea, coffee, a snack, etc.

You name it and he’ll get it for you.

Sometimes though, you’ll ask him to come sit with you so you can chat while you work.

You knew that going back to school had taken your attention off of him and he was beginning to feel distant from you.

So you try to reach out to him as best you can.

He’ll pull up a chair and sit next to you.

Sometimes he’ll even do some of his own work and the two of you will work together and make small talk.

He did what he could to lower your stress levels.

He wanted you to be successful.

But sometimes your workload was just too much.

There was one evening particular where you were REALLY stressed out.

Like, you came home and holed yourself up in his office without saying a word.

It sparked him as odd, considering that you always took the time to ask him about his day, no matter what you had to do.

He waited a couple of hours before going to check on you.

He stood near the doorway, watching as you typed furiously on your laptop.

He originally wasn’t going to say anything, but the longer he watched, the more...aroused that he got.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint why something as simple as you working hard got him hot and bothered.

He figured it was because he hadn’t really been intimate with you in a while.

That and there was something so attractive about seeing you so focused on something.

He approached you quietly in his socked feet.

He rested his hands on your shoulders carefully, breaking you from your trance.

“Hey, Hanni.” was all you could really muster to say at the moment.

“My love...why don’t you take a break?”

Normally, that was all it took for you to tear away for a bit,

But today you were determined to power through.

“No, I can’t. I’ve got to finish this.” 

“You’ve been working for far too long. I really wish you’d take a break.”

His thumbs started rubbing at the tense muscles in your shoulder, making his offer so hard to refuse.

He could see the stress on your face and he could practically smell the tension.

You needed some relief...some stress relief.

“Just 15 minutes. That’s all I ask for.”

His lips had fallen to your neck now, kissing and sucking softly.

A sigh escaped your chest, reluctance coursing through you.

But eventually, you agreed.

Hannibal stood you up from the desk chair, only to sit down himself and pull you on his lap.

You straddled him, the two of you making out and sharing passionate “I love yous”.

You felt bad when you felt how needy his kisses were.

They said nothing short of “I’ve missed you”.

Hannibal started to get handsy, his fingertips teasing the waistband of your shorts.

His hard on was obvious underneath you.

He slipped your shorts off of your legs while you worked on getting his belt and pants off.

He turned you around to where you were facing the desk again, raising you and lowering you down onto his erection.

The moan that you let out was music to his ears.

You went to start moving, but his hand stopped you from doing so.

“Hannibal, what-”

“Go on, darling. Read to me what you have so far.”

He had to be kidding.

He did all this to get you to stop working and now he wanted you to review it?

You tried to shift your hips to get some kind of friction, but he held you extremely still.

You started to read off of your laptop screen.

You were stuttering through it, an occasional curse sounding out.

He was buried deep inside of you.

His tip prodding at your cervix.

He made noises of interest and affirmation as you read, clearly impressed with what you had so far.

He turned down all of your pleas, prompting you to keep going.

You finished reading, ignoring the way that the words had began to blur.

You were begging now.

“Hannibal, please fuck me.”

“But I thought you liked feeling me like this?”

“I do, but...it’s so much better when you’re moving. Please, baby, I promise I’ll be good.”

Finally, Hannibal couldn’t bear to hear your whimpers anymore,

He wanted to make you feel good.

He lifted you off of his dick momentarily to turn you back around.

He took a second to marvel at how you had soaked him.

You barely waited to sink down onto him completely before you started rolling your hips against him.

Hannibal groaned in your ear, his voice rumbling and low.

He guided your hips in a rhythm, loving the way you bounced on his lap.

You angled yourself back a bit so he’d hit your g-spot every time you landed back onto him.

He wanted to get you to a fast, but good orgasm.

His fingers rubbed at your sensitive clit to bring you closer to your finish.

He thrusted up into you hard.

Each new thrust melting away more and more of your stress.

He sucked hickeys on your neck and praised you endlessly.

“You’re so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Such a good girl. You’re so perfect.”

He worked you until you unraveled around him, your release hitting you full force with a flash of white.

He came inside of you, milking your walls white.

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you went limp, too tired to move.

His hands rubbed over your back as your breathings returned to normal.

He left sweet, lazy kisses wherever he could.

Your voice sounded out shortly after, drawing a laugh from him.

“I think...I can stop here for the night.”

[jikook-yoonmin-trash]

YOONGI X READER (DIRTY IMAGINE)

Rating: E for Explicit

No one asked for this but I'll deliver anyways. I know I'm not consistent but I'm trying to be committed to something to stay sane. Lets go.

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Yoongi had been locked in his studio all week. Being the perfectionist that he was, you knew it would take a miracle to get him out of there. He was working on a new Hip Hop piece with some foreign artist and it stirred something inside, deep and longing. You knew he was passionate and you knew how much he wanted to get this done.

But seeing him so focused and concentrated at the small window of time you visited stirred something in you, deep and longing. Your relationship with him hadn't always been physical, he sought after comfort and companionship, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't turn you on.

Especially on days where he wear shirts that dipped to low, or days where he came straight from his schedule with Bangtan- fully decked out from head to toe with perfect hair and accessories for days.

Like right now for instance.

You weren't sure who was sitting in front of you; Min Yoongi, Suga or Agust D. Whomever it was, you were ready to please.

"Got you some coffee and snack."

Yoongi took a break from writing to look up at you with a little smile. Cute. His hair was pushed back and he looked so devastatingly handsome that for a second you forgot that he was yours, and you forgot to breathe. You couldn't help but notice the thick silver rings on his fingers as he reached for the coffee. You've always had a thing for his hands.

"Thank you babe, wanna sit for a while?" Yoongi asked, looking up at you from mid sip.

With his legs sprawled out like that, it seemed like an invitation- open and inviting. The material of his pants were thick but you could make out the outline of his legs just fine. Perfect legs. Perfect seat.

Feeling bold, you rushed forward and found yourself sitting between his legs. His hands were immediately around you with the gentle sound of his laughter.

"You did say sit." You teased, leaning into his warm chest.

"I did."

Yoongi hummed and swiveled the chair to face his computer. With the coffee set aside and his hands occasionally clicking the keys on his laptop, you both fell into a comfortable silence. Yoongi's head nuzzled against your neck as he furiously wrote down lyrics. All you were concerned about was his hands. He had beautiful hands.

As time progressed, you found the urge to be fondled or even feel him move against you was increasing. Yoongi knew all your tricks. If you tried grinding against him that would only warrant a scolding or worst, him banning any kind of sexual activity until next week. He'd do it, you knew him well enough to not cross him. Especially because he's so busy.

"Yoongi?"

"Mmm." He hummed, kissing your neck.

"You look cute today."

"Mmm, Namjoon called me Daddy. He thought you would like it."

"Namjoon's not wrong."

One of his hand wrapped around you, while the other worked with a pen and paper. He rubbed small circles into your stomach and hummed appreciatively.

"What did you do today beautiful?" His deep voice was calming, you were stuck between wanting to bask in his touches or fall asleep to whatever hypnotic trance he had you in.

"Work was good as usual. I also got my paper done, I'm really proud of it."

"Good girl. You've worked so hard."

You received another kiss on the neck. Before you could respond, his hand dipped under your shirt (his shirt) and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His ringed thumb swiped over your nipple leaving a cool shocking sensation behind.

"You're not wearing a bra?" His tone was teasing. Had you not seen the small smile tugging on his lips you would think he was upset.

"Hate wearing those."

"Mmm. Anything else I should know." He asked, still fondling your breasts.

"Perhaps a couple things."

"Oh yeah, like what."

You were about to tease him, but the tugging and pinching of your nipple was enough to sedate your urge to toy with Yoongi. It felt really good, especially since you were already worked up earlier.

"Like what baby?"

He was now pressing kisses up your neck with little bites. The pen and paper was abandoned and his now free hand took refuge in the inside of your thigh, prying your legs open.

"Like, I think you should use your hands to make me cum."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against your back.

"Mmm, figured as much. You just sat right on my lap with no hesitation." You were squirming under his touch. "Take off your pants baby. I'll make you cum right here."

Without question, those pants along with your panty were flying to the other side of the room and Yoongi was spreading your legs until they hooked on the handle of either sides of the chair. From his angle, he could see your entire pussy spread out. He could see how wet you were from just a simple touch.

"Dirty."

He sucked a finger and circled it around your clenching core, feeling the heat of your wetness. His finger was teasing you in small strokes and he purposely flicked your clit.

Your body laid flush against his, lifeless even with your head lolled off to the side as he slowly rubbed circles around your clit, missing it on purpose. Yoongi was a nasty tease, he loved drawing out your orgasm and then letting it hit you in waves when you'd least expect it.

"Did you miss me this much? Had to storm into my workplace and demand that I make you cum with my hands."

His free hand was busy rolling your nipple between his thumb and index, tugging whenever he felt like it.

"Not my fault you look so good." You hummed.

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you please."

"Yeaah. Please Yoongi."

In seconds you found yourself being thrown on the desk in front of you. Your legs were splayed out with your hands resting on either side of your body for support. Yoongi ducked his head, laid close to your inner thigh and gazed up at you.

There was a glint of mischievousness sparkling in his dark gaze. He pushed you back hard, your back knocking into the monitor, your hand was busy smashing into the keyboard to find purchase.

"Yoongi!" You hissed, "Your fucking computer is behind me."

His tongue found its way on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to the new heart beat centered in your hot dripping pussy.

"I will crush your head if you keep teasing me." You threatened. Yoongi had the nerve to laugh, as if he didn't believe you.

"An honorable death for an honorable man."

He finally gave in, and sucked lightly around your clit. His tongue flicking softly at the sensitive spot. You were too busy moaning and heaving, so when he inserted a finger, followed by another you found it extremely taxing to hold back your screams. They were loud and needy. And Yoongi was tending to them.

The thing about Yoongi is that, he knew how to use his fingers and he was an expert with his mouth. Every time he angled his fingers upwards to rub at area that made you see stars, he also added pressure to his tongue. He was sucking and licking your orgasm closer while he finger fucked you. The noises were loud and sinful. The room was heated with wet squelches each time his finger thrust into you.

"Uuuuhgh, Just like that Yoongi. Fuuuuuuuck mee!"

Unable to control the intensity of the feeling, you grabbed onto his hair and pressed him closer- possibly suffocating him in the process. Your hips were grinding circles into his face, finding it easier to chase your own orgasm this way.

"Yeaah!"

"Yeaaaaah!"

"Fuuuuuck Yooongi Mmmmmhhh!"

Your leg wrapped around his neck and pulled him in, locking his head in place as your orgasm hit. It was so intense, your ears were ringing and eyes rolled back as the endorphins wore off. Yoongi was still working his tongue, slowly, sending light shockwaves through your core.

"Baby, I love you and your pussy but please let go."

"No Yoongi, not when you make me cum like that. I feel like I'm floating."

"Oh yeah, I feel like I'm drowning in you."

Reluctantly, you let go. Yoongi's face was glossy with your arousal but he hadn't made any attempts to clean it, only smiling at you in return.

You heard the familiar sound of his belt being unbuckled and the zipper running down. His cock was standing upright, shining with his own arousal. Yoongi looked spent leaning back in his chair. He looked like he owned you and everyone else in this building with his cocky smile and the wicked look in his eye.

"Come sit on my cock baby. Lets finish this song together." He smirked.

And just like that, his cock was nestled into your warm sensitive pussy as he worked on lyrics to his new song. This was going to be a long night.

"You know the rules baby, don't move and don't touch your pussy. If you want something you ask me. Okay baby."

"Yes Yoongi."

"Good girl. This is going to take a while."

[sugar-petals]

sub!Yuzu | nsfw alphabet

🌹 NOTE ⇢ content for our fave figure skater, the legend himself. mr. yuzuru hanyu is 1000% dom candy and i’m here to honor it at length ⛸

— WORDS. 5k

tags + warnings. dom/sub dynamics, femdom!reader, role reversal hc, smut, kinks, cum play, spanking, sex toys, very freaky yuzu, kitten play, mdlb, crying kink, food play, prostate orgasms, bondage, some deeper stuff & angsty bits, asthma mention, aftercare

  A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Once the cat ears come off, who is Yuzuru Hanyu not to remain in character for a while. For the shits and giggles, and because it’s cozy. Once a catboy, always a catboy, it’s the law of the land. Curling up, kneading at you for the head pats and massages, you know the programme. 

Also: Yuzu is famously soft-spoken and always finds the right thing to say. So, stimulating conversation for the cooldown. This is literally so nice. He’s unafraid to reflect everything in detail, say what he preferred, what you could change up together, what he wants to try next. The afterglow is not just physical, as in you give him something to drink, it’s 70% verbal which is very important to him as a consistent habit.

Of course, not to forget: Always gotta have a Winnie Pooh plushie ready. He embraces it readily and, as we know him, does some roleplay right then and there. Yuzu, professional cutiepie he is, is the kinda sub who treats all plush and pillow stuff as alive and breathing. You as his domme are in on the play and also treat his things as holy as they are to him. That Yuzu lets you into that world is the biggest compliment you can possibly get. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

We all know Yuzu’s godly ass and thighs. Or the staggering waist and beautiful black hair that makes him a total bombshell in his classic comb-back styles. His face is soft and expressive and so damn unique, his legs muscular and long, his back and tummy chiseled, the list goes on and on. Jesus, he has so many great features. All body parts a masterpiece. That are all capable of god-tier contortionism on top of that, gotta mention it in passing. Just so you know if you haven’t seen him bend his every limb into directions you wouldn’t believe are humanly possible. 

Interestingly though. If he chooses, Yuzu picks his feet: They are his most important instrument and weak spot. His ankles are where the magic happens. So, you taking care of them a little would mean the world to him, imagine a candle light massage. Not to worry, no-gross-alert. Yuzu has perfect and cute feet. That’s gonna be a Victorian moment, oh my god I saw his ankles. For his partner, short and simple: He likes a shoulder to lean on. He loves being touchy in general, all body parts are amazing to him. Being in a profession that’s all about the physics, Yuzuru knows about the wonders of the body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Certified king of cumsluts, doesn’t even hesitate. The more, the merrier. If he’s not covered in sticky stuff, Yuzu would be underchallenged. It’s less about the taste, texture or any degradation, for him it’s the playing around with his tongue. Somebody wants his mouth preoccupied. Give the cat his milk. Feed him his own cum mixed with yours. He’s gonna lap at it and swallow.

Since Yuzu’s dream is a mommy domme baking him something, he just loves the smell of dough and hazelnuts and cinnamon and everything — you know what’s coming: Imagine the food play. Nuts indeed. Anything that even remotely looks like a creampie is something he wants to get his lips on. And Yuzu is not the type to be a foodie at all, let that sink in. Sexual-looking food is just too big a temptation, though. And you spoiling him that way... oh my. Surefire way to end up in bed right after. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has a butt plug collection. Once almost went on the ice with one in. The more you know. Also— this guy is the kinda type fantasizing to get absolutely railed on a bed of plushies. He has troubles suggesting it to you because he doesn’t want them to get actually dirty. But the idea gets the two of you kind of horny. Sometimes, a thought is better as a fantasy than actually executing it. You can use it for riling up’s sake, whispering it to him during dirty talk. How you’ll bounce on him and ruin him and milk him while he’s splayed out so innocently on your bed. I smell corruption kink. 

Another secret Yuzu keeps is just how much he changed his mind about wanting his partner to control everything in bed. He grew up with a pre-defined ideal type of a cute, nice skater girl who’d let the reins very loosely around him, who he can speak Japanese to because he had problems with English, who is small and someone he will protect. It wasn’t something based on experience and trying things out: It was simply expected of him. People wanted the domineering Yuzuru on ice to be that way in private, and make use of his power, be a man, savior, boss. 

The reality being: He never felt truly as tough on the ice, nor was he gender-conforming in person. In fact, that is what he became famous for, and it reassured Yuzuru very often how people would accept and actually celebrate this side of him. Which is so refreshing, and a sight to see. The side that was dorky, clingy, childish, gorgeous, and cute has always been there, but now he embraces it more as his comfort place. He has to know what he’s doing in his skating programme and show competitive spirit to achieve his dreams, but that’s where it stops.

His former ideals are something people wanted to hear, it was an adaptation of the environment rather than thinking it through on his own. So, years later — oh boy have things changed. Yuzuru no longer defines his ideal type that way, saying whoever he likes is someone he’d be with. What was a fantasy template and filter is now gone and adapted to his newfound, own preferences. Yuzu is comfortably open-minded rather than being a copy to mainstream. He found fun in speaking English, opened up to the world at large, had more girls around him who he could befriend, grew more confident in his stature, and is well aware — turns out he’s the cute one. Who needs to be taken under a wing. He likes strong-minded girls and says if he had a wife, she’d dominate him. Yuzuru secretly wants her to be in charge entirely, she owns his body and soul. Not in daily life where things are just normal and everyone goes about their business. Sexually, where he surrenders instead, and is taken care of.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The tale of an introvert. What he knows — he hides it well. Has eyefucked a whole lot of people and is the type to lust like mad from a far distance, and nobody will ever know. Crushes harder than peppercorns in a mill. If he loves someone, it lingers in his mind every split second of the day, may god have mercy on him. And if you know him: Yuzu aims too high to keep it light and easy and clumsy. He hates being an amateur, he’s terrified of starting out something. He dreads not knowing what to do, how exactly to behave, talk, touch, breathe, respond, negotiate, prepare. That’s a hundred percent like hell to him.

Ironically, he has a natural feeling for it and he’s literally amazing in bed, has a sense for social interaction is all the way cute with something valuable to say. But what he believes is something way different. Yuzuru is a diehard, nervous perfectionist. He can only think of it as a rated performance since his mind usually has to work that way to skate well. His esteem is on a knife edge depending on how well he thinks he does. So, the inevitable: He will shy away from sex altogether. He draws immense skating passion from staying celibate, in fact it’s his success secret, but it still eats him up from the inside and makes him frustrated beyond measure. Not even for the pleasure, since he’s so ambitious that’s almost forgotten about, but for being told he did well. 

That’s how much he believes sex is a drill and capability test. And it’s sad that he thinks it’s like his skating career, racking up points for the impossible things judges want and being in a deadlock when it comes to showing his artistic side. He feels thrown into cold water if he doesn’t know everything beforehand. If he ever works up the courage, which probably won’t happen, he will pay an expert to learn from rather than let something all over the place happen with a random person or even someone he might like. 

Yes, you heard that right. He’d rather see a sex worker than ‘mess up’ his first time according to his sky-high standards. So, Yuzu’s experience remains limited since he’s so 100% do or die, and so anxious, and so torn about social interaction, he doesn’t get how his peers can be playboys and get married and flirt with someone they like and all that. He sort of has an easier time with guys, but girls... he can’t approach. To top it off, he also feels like he’d burden his first time one somebody or embarrasses himself, so he will reject and avoid suitors. Those are usually not the people he crushes so hard on to begin with. It’s bound to be one-sided and he knows, so he will abstain and focus on career and use the cheers of his fans as a substitute.

Truth is, he feels helpless and distant from sex sometimes, especially with his practice-heavy lifestyle and hyper-smart mind, Yuzuru has an intelligence that exceeds what most people can grasp. He’s alone on the ice and Brian as a coach is often the only reference person who truly gets him, and leads him well without being controlling. But that’s professional life. Sexually, Yuzuru is metaphorically: coachless. He surely observed it well when Javier (the #1 ladies man, his opposite) was still active and a social butterfly helping him fit in, but Yuzu would always be worried about his extreme fame and spotless image when introduced to someone fangirling over him. He’d rather prefer someone who comes across as a mentor and solid, loyal-to-death person to look up to. So he would do anything to have someone benevolent like that. Most girls would expect him to be the sex god and expert, but he knows that’s only half of the story and based on his characters on the ice. Yuzu crafts these to counterbalance how he really is — withdrawn and indirect. 

Yuzu is extremely calculating and selective, he scans suitors well, protects his reputation, and is mortified of failure. So, he’d rather learn it by the book and from someone he’s not emotionally attached to. In a one-night stand that might also be the case, but he doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s absolutely terrified of sudden sexual vulnerability. He himself often says he values his own struggle between feeling so weak and being strong again 

Besides: He’d have problems squeezing hookups into his schedule and lifestyle, he’d have to cut down on things and create a double life. Plus, Yuzu is famously inept with social interaction up close, he flees the noise and unpredictability. So, it’s better to have a long-term partner. If he doesn’t know something yet, he has it down in one day like the single axel. Definitely counts on his partner teaching him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

We know Yuzu’s signature move is the lean-back Ina Bauer. So, whatever position allows for an arch is the real deal (cough, taking the strap — oh my god his ass is made for it). But anyway, he can pull off anything with that stellar flexibility and core strength. 

If I think about it. Yuzu might like sitting on your lap very much. I know it’s not a sex position, I mean it can be once his inner lapdancer awakens or you use a strap-on, I rather mean... just for some sweet moments and making out. But yeah: Fathom Yuzu gyrating on your like that. Not in an outright lascivious manner or Chippendales style. The Hanyu way, with embellishments and all the grace. This is gonna be a huge turn-on and perfect foreplay position.  

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not much to elaborate here: Yep, Yuzu is true goofball indeed. Really flustered and clumsy when eye-to-eye in missionary, and yet: He’s ultra serious towards the end, there’s gonna be an aggressive staredown before cumming. The feeling gets pretty intense, his duality between silly and ‘yeah, give it to me’ is no joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Would probably die from inflammation if he shaved clean under those tight suits and did all these chafe-heavy skating routines. Doesn’t have a lot of body hair to begin with, but for pits and pubes, it’s alive, wild, and decently long. Out of all people, Yuzu cares particularly about aesthetics, but in this case pragmatism will prevail. He doesn’t care too much about it either as long as it doesn’t get in the way of something. Having sex with Yuzu tends to be well um well all about a hundred types of friction so any stubble would be a bad idea.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You haven’t seen a guy in love like that. It’s a figure skater thing for sure. Since he works to portray these sentiments on the ice daily, hardly anybody can play up feelings so delicately and palpably like Yuzuru. Emotion is what his entire career is built on. He knows how to express himself directly, appropriately, intimately. Couldn’t be any more romantic. Yuzu can’t go without it. 

Very passionate, ‘for your eyes only’ kind of atmosphere. Yes, he shows off on the ice, it’s his job (although of course, that word doesn’t really sum up what skating means to him). But private Yuzu is someone you can claim as yours. He will make it clear, he wants to belong to you, he’s yours, dedicated, devotion is the entire point. Less with a slant of what some subs like, very hands-on ownership of a mistress. It’s more emotional. He’s really attached and all smitten. Your private little haven is everything to him. 

Talking about little: Yuzu can be quite a pillow prince sometimes. At least when the initiative doesn’t go back and forth as it frequently does, you often alternate with suggestions and ways of tweaking an ongoing play session. You blindfold him or tie his wrists, He might be standard tired from practice or just fascinated to watch you work your magic on him. 

He also likes music to set the tone for intimacy, who’s surprised. Prepare: Yuzu likes dramatic classical music all the way. He’s probably one of the few people who can make it more than ‘classy’ and definitely more than cringe. He selects pieces very well. This is gonna be a practice template to cum together when the music reaches its peak. Makes the whole thing full of adrenaline.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Lots of fun to him. Would beat it 24/7 if the ice wasn’t calling him. Drowns himself in lube. This guy’s me-time is so rated R, Cardi B would be inspired to remix WAP to wet ass penis as an anthem just for him. A dry dick is a ruined day for Yuzuru, as is a session without teasing his prostate in whatever way he currently fancies. Once he tried it, he never went back. The intensity knocking him out is something that Yuzu thinks about all the time. Strokes like a pro, does all these little moans, can do it forever, loves the feeling, chases the high. Adrenaline junkie on the ice? No different with his hand around his cock. 

Will masturbate everywhere in the house and has to really get his head in the game to make sure he won’t ruin any carpets. So, he always has at least two towels with him. In the kitchen, in front of the TV, in the shower, the bed. Watches his fair share of eclectic porn, he gets really desperate. Especially before you started dating, Yuzu would shut himself in until the lotion ran out. Can jack off to something romantic (he starts crying) or something extreme (he loves shocking himself and ). 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Very curious about sadomasochism. Googles a lot of things that make him hard during the day. Often jawdropped by his research, but once he tries things out with you, nothing can really shock him anymore. Absolutely wants to be collared, it’s his biggest fantasy. Another little secret he has, Yuzu is decked out in skating gloves, right. He wishes he could feel you wearing them, or he keeps them on for sex himself, the lacey transparent ones. Looks especially pretty when his wrists are tied so, major photograpy material. Oh yes, Yuzu likes the camera, he can work it. The guy is photogenic in any position and can strike any angle you want. Your phone background is a new Yuzu snapshot every week already, imagine your gallery, 5800 kinky pictures.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I’m gonna say it. The frozen lake out of town, late at night, condoms and lube with you. A quickie that will leave your genitals frozen. Yuzu might get stuck inside you because it’s -15 Celsius. Call that fantasy on ice. Jokes aside: Come on, Yuzu is the biggest ever hermit homebody. The couch will have a bunch of indents after your week-long fucking sessions after he comes home training. Also, at his desk while he does work for university. You ride him, Yuzu studies. Double the ambition. His dick is completely sore. The lake out of town thing might go down, but without sex. Just skating together under the stars, Yuzu doing amazing spins and spirals around you, very very romantic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yuzu is a crazed Sagittarius. Have you seen these men? They just want it all. Must be the influence of Jupiter. Zeus was definitely vibing that way. And yes, Yuzu has borderline unhealthy gold medal thinking in bed. He wants to be not just good but damn good with pleasing you. If you don’t have a good time and head home without an orgasm, he’ll consider himself a failure. Yuzu won’t cut himself any slack there. You’d have a hard time changing his ways into something more chill and moderate. Instead, you will see the benefits of rolling with it once you see how improvement fuels him and does make sex really mindblowing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Couldn’t do things like slapping you, spanking. Yuzu makes for a terrible daddy dom, it’d not suit him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Cum-dripping oral mess, Yuzu is the brave kind. Totally into it, and can’t resist a good blowjob. Will act different afterwards, there’s a lot of erotic tension. “This evening again?” is what those eyes are saying.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Outstanding kinesthetic intelligence. Every inch of his body follows his intent, and yours if you have him take on certain ways of kneeling. Yuzu can do it all, whatever you want. Tantalizing, moderato, overwhelmingly fast. He can take it, he can portray it. And knows the value of a pause like a true connoisseur. Not just when he wants to prevent cumming early, also just because the moment is right. That’s why cockwarming is a staple, as well as you having him wait patiently for kisses. To top it off: If you give him a blowjob, building up the tension by doing nothing is damn effective. The ruined orgasms you’re gonna give him... delicious.

Everything’s gonna have nice transitions as well, no awkward climbing and rolling and tangling limbs. If he gets something from another room that you need, no slouching. The university course as good as the extracurricular activities. Being inconsistent with any subsidiary details? Not in the Hanyu household, he’s keeping it classy. Yuzu feels like if he makes the bridges to new positions even remotely messy, the feeling is killed and it’s as if he’d break character mid-skate. Although he’ll have to practice and refine and test a lot of things because he’s not super experienced and adapting to your own movements is an individualized thing to do, he’s a masterclass of quality, period.

Even when things get fast and heated, nothing feels off. Having that kind of body smartness also means: Yuzu learns by touch, whatever you do. He knows by the way you pull his hair what comes next. How much saliva drips off your tongue when you suck at his neck, he knows how hard you’ll to ravage him in five minutes. This guy observes things you aren’t even conscious of because his physical understanding is just so fine-tuned.

The sense of rhythm, and every skating programme of him will showcase that, unbeatable. Unless his mood is really impacted by something severe, your guy feels it in every bone. He’s an artist, after all, he listens to music all the time. Dissecting rhythms to turn them into movement is what his line of work is all about. The pace will always fit the mood. Everything is precise, but never crude. Instead, the way he moves is dictated by an inherent flow. With little accents that match right with any thrust, like putting his hands on your sides when you’re on top of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hit it Shakira: Whenever, wherever! He seemingly carries an entire condom factory with him. Or, to be more exact: At least three of them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

This one’s a complicated case. Yuzu being reckless on the ice may or may not mirror in your private life. He might need some downtime, so bring out the soft domme stuff. No trial and error stuff, just going through a routine of things you love the most. On the other hand, he always gives it all. This guy’s endurance at your hands is amazing. Advanced kinds of BDSM he will not feel deterred from at all. Rough toys, anal hooks, sounding, whips, why not is Yuzu’s motto. But then again. He has such a confusing mix of innocence and feeling like he’s completely hardcore. You might end up experimenting a lot, but also not daring the leap sometimes because the mood is different. And then rather go for softer hours, where Yuzu will be all shy shy and more bursting with excitement than ever. A good, interesting mix is what I’m saying.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yuzuru, once he gets a bit of practice to gauge the situation... Viagra on two legs, absolute unexpected powerhouse. You might end up pondering to work out a little and go for a run because this guy is in a consistently outstanding shape to say the least. Olympic athletes are literally hard to fuck with. And since Yuzu is starfishing sometimes (which is very adorable), or he’s in bondage for some time, that presents a further problem: For a second round, he’s full of energy, while you already spent energy. So, you alternate with who’s active, and the other leans back entirely. He has to remind himself since his body is programmed for it: This is no contest — the point is feeling good.

You might ride him reverse cowgirl all the way while you watch TV, and after the overstimulation fades he will eat you out ad nauseam, full course slobbering, sweeping the whole menu. That way, it’s less about keeping up with him, which would be hard for most people not doing sports at his galactic level. He understands, Yuzu knows he’s not normal in that regard, you don’t have to worry. Some exercise still doesn’t hurt, just to further increase the quality of sex anyway.

Then again: Why go jogging and do some laps wasting valuable together time when Yuzu’s lap is the best workout? And running doesn’t guarantee your stamina in bed is perfect even if it does help. You rather wanna manage how to draw out the arousal. It’s a self-control thing, with the goal of having you match up in every aspect as good as you can. In which case, you can count on him to pull it off: Have you seen Yuzu doing jumps side by side with a bunch of female skaters? Copy paste. This guy knows how to synchronize with the ladies.

Something that has to be mentioned beside that, though. Yuzu has asthma since 2 years old, and it’s often a mind thing to him still these days. He doesn’t let it stop him from sleeping with you because as always, he’s not letting anything get in his way. He has learned to live and thrive with it. But you both have to mind the possibility of an attack, he prevents it with inhalers, and the mood plays a crucial role. Yuzu being comfortable and confident is so important to his breathing, and keeping a good rhythm rather than being chaotic in bed. So, you will plan most of your sexual activities rather than improvising. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Would stuff an entire sex shop into his every available orifice. Yuzu is a toy freak, he wants to try everything. Motto: a new one every day. Well, almost. But he can afford it. Buys stuff he uses solely on himself, things you use on him, things he uses solo and you use on him, and as the cherry on top, every possible high end vibrator on the market for you. Any size, too. This bitch will browse through the latest innovations, prepare to get off. He’s obsessed with seeing you use it on yourself. Yuzu owns a separate phone just for videos of you buzzing your clit, and him fingering you for minutes and minutes. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Extremely so. Loves to be a total brat only to get put into his place. He does it so you’ll pull the chin grab on him. He likes getting choked out as a punishment as well. Yuzu also tends to be very around the corner if you will when it comes to soft subbing, he lays over expecting cuddles but doesn’t say so. Buds his head against your chest, nuzzles, and so on. Lighter forms of teasing come to him very easily. Loves to prompt. Roughhousing, banter, favorite thing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Moderately loud because his voice is very very light, but unsurprisingly — he’s just beautiful. What a nice tone. Gorgeous whimpering sounds. And when you go hard on him, voice cracks! And really heavy breathing. What’s gonna be the most striking though is his expressiveness. We know it from the ice and interviews, and he can really amp it up even further. No need for screaming, that face will speak the volumes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You’ll be blessed with him if you have a huge crying kink. Yuzu definitely opens the waterworks every other week in bed. Happy tears, horny tears, relief tears, aftercare tears, orgasm tears, masochist tears, romantic tears, subspace tears, he has it all. He also begs for the type of pain that makes it stream down his face for minutes. He’s touchy-feely all the way and feels like he can really connect with you that way.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His ass twitching is kind of a spectacle, but I don’t have to tell you, do I. Yuzu has muscles for the gods in there. So voluptuous, you can’t call it any other way. Big booty boyfriend, Jesus you can show him off, he loves it. Around the house, he will flaunt them big ole athlete buns in particular, acting like it’s unintended. Um, Yuzu, those are joggings. Smack it, he is sure to moan. 

And may I respectfully mention as well — this guy has some major big ass balls figuratively and literally. How else would someone be motivated to jump a triple axel like it’s nothing. Not kidding, they’re big and round and ugh. His love for tight pants doesn’t help. He knows what your eyes like and dresses just to flex the goods. Screams for more spanking and pinching if you ask me. Yuzu is definitely serving it. Well-endowed, you lucky girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mega horny, ready when you are. On a scale from zero to hundred? Breaching into the 90 percent right there. Yuzu’s hormones are literally insane. On paper he’s 26, but his dick wants the 18th birthday party. Jesus is he gonna be clingy when he’s in the mood. All wrapped around you in a backhug in the kitchen or when you iron a costume of his, and that’s sexy of him. He’s not gonna hide what’s filling out those sweatpants. He’ll desperately grind up against you like it’s Christmas.

Paired with his puppy eyes and little “Do you have some time... I’ll iron this tomorrow” — instant pounce. He’s admittedly a bit hard to keep up with sometimes, though. The reason: With that level of exercise, he has major pent-up energy. That machine is definitely running. Heavy sports changes your hormones, nervous system, and especially blood flow. Now take that to the scale of his performances and regimens? That equals a firework of horny. No wonder he masturbates all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Takes some time. He cools down, sweats it out, chugs water. However, don’t underestimate how tired Yuzu can already be. His daily routines and competitions have a toll on him. Ironically, he’s not a deep sleeper, however. Yuzu might toss and turn and have sudden energy bursts, or ideas, or gets hungry. So, he needs his plushies, he needs a weighted blanket, warm pajamas, a hot cup of his favorite warm drink, a light snack, and you by his side. Spooning him excessively and sometimes even humming to him. Yuzu looks like a certified angel on his pillow, his well-deserved rest from everything is so important, too.

NOTE - hope i could indulge you, thank you for reading!

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. depictions fictional.

[jayeray-twst]

How He Shows You Affection: Cater Diamond

Warnings: None all fluff!

He Takes Pictures of You

“Say strawberry!” Cater ordered with a toothy grin, as he snagged you around the waist and pulled you close, pressing your cheeks together with his arm extended out, holding his phone.

Several months of dating meant you were now quick enough on the draw to smile at the camera for the first snap of the shutter and were even quicker to turn your face to the side, pressing an affectionate kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek before he managed to hit the button again.

“Babe!” he whined a playful lilt to his voice that probably would’ve fooled most, but you saw right through it to the faint blush on his cheeks and the warm look in his eyes.

Cater always got a little flustered when you did little things like that to catch him off guard, which was only fair in your opinion considering how much he did it to you. Your boyfriend had enjoyed flustering you, and gone out of his way to tease, and flirt just to see if he could.

“Let me see?” you asked, making grabby hands at his phone. He immediately passed it over without complaint, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on your shoulder so he could see the screen too as you looked at the photos he’d taken.

The first was pretty cute, with wide beaming smiles on both your faces, but the second one definitely stole the show. As per usual, even when caught off guard Cater managed to take the picture at the perfect moment, just as your lips brushed his cheek. His eyes were wide with surprise and there was the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

“Cute,” you cooed, pleased with the way it had come out, “You going to post that on MagiCam?”

“You know me so well,” he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze around the middle before accepting his phone back, “We really take the best pictures together babe!”

“If you say so,” you told him lightly.

“I do say so!” he informed you, one hand still holding you to him as his clever fingers tapped away at the screen of his phone one handed, “You’re so photogenic it should be against the rules!”

You huffed in affectionate amusement. Honestly you were pretty sure the only reason you came out looking half so good in all the photos Cater took of the two of you was because he had an eye for it. Cater’s ability with a camera was exemplary, enough to put professionals to shame in your own opinion and frankly you were more than a little flattered that his favorite subject seemed to be you.

His timeline on MagiCam was full to the bursting of pictures of you, doing everything and anything under the sun, almost all of them candid or taken with only a split second’s notice and yet somehow you looked good in all of them. Not only that, but all the pictures were tagged with flattering words about how amazing you looked and how blessed he was to have you and to be your boyfriend.

Looking at it never failed to make you feel warm inside. MagiCam was a huge part of Cater’s life, and when it came to his content you were front and center. It was like his entire timeline was a testament, his own unspoken way of showing his devotion to you more eloquent than any words could ever be. After all if a picture was worth a thousand words than Cater had written entire epochs on how much he adored you.

“Alright all uploaded!” he cheered, pulling you from your fond thoughts and twirling you around in his arms with a bright laugh, “Now that, that’s done we should probably go check up on the A-Deuce combo. They’re supposed to be painting the roses, but knowing the two of them…”

You laughed in agreement and let him drag you off to go check on Heartslabyul’s two most troublesome first years, feeling immensely fond of your boyfriend.

Later when you were scrolling through your own social media you weren’t surprised to find the picture of the two of you from earlier beaming smiles at the camera, tagged with mushy cute things like #loveofmylife, #smilebabe, #aren’twecute?. However the picture of you kissing his cheek was missing.

You fully intended to ask him about it the next day, right up until you caught sight of his phone again. The picture was there both in his background and as his lock screen staring you in the face. You honestly couldn’t do anything in the face of that besides melt and give your sweet boyfriend an affectionate kiss, feeling completely and utterly adored.

He Tells You (And Only You)

Cater was the kind of guy who flirted with everyone, so at times it could be hard to take his words seriously. Compliments like beautiful, wonderful, and precious were a dime a dozen, and not limited to just you either. His whole personality seemed to be exuberant, extroverted and friendly, the kind of guy who had friends everywhere because he had no trouble making friends. He felt almost unreal with how perfect he was.

There were times, especially at the beginning of your relationship that it had made you incredibly insecure. Cater was popular, both through MagiCam and just in general, and you had no idea why he’d want to be with you of all people when it seemed like he could have anyone he wanted. In the face of your worries his words almost felt insincere, shallow and hollow, as if he didn’t really mean them because he said them to everyone he met.

However, the longer you were with him the more you realized something incredibly important. Despite the compliments that fell from his lips at the drop of a hat Cater never, ever used the word love. Sure there was an implication of love, as he said things like “I adore this’ or ‘I’m wild about that’. He said ‘I’m captivated’ or ‘I’m infatuated’ or ‘I’m enthralled’ but never ever ‘I’m in love.’

It was like the words were anathema to him, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it at all. It was then you realized, slowly but surely that a lot of the face he showed to the world was a carefully crafted mask. Just as you’d suspected no one could be quite that perfect, happy and friendly all the time.

Cater got frustrated, anxious and annoyed just as anyone else did, he was just much better at hiding it. There was also a pretty vicious side to him, one that could hurl lethal insults wrapped in so many honeyed words that only those who were looking for it or really paying attention to him noticed.

Funnily enough this actually made you relax. It humanized him, and made him seem more relatable rather than the near perfect being he’d seemed before. Once you realized how much he was hiding you carefully did your best be worthy of his trust, so he could have a safe place to rest. After all keeping up a cheerful mask at all times sounded utterly exhausting to you no matter how good he was at it.

Slowly but surely, he’d begun to let his walls down, coming to you when he had a rough day, sitting in silence with you, cuddling with you, enjoying quiet little moments that you once would’ve thought he’d hate. Instead Cater seemed to relish these stolen moments with you, and as you began to truly see each other for who you were rather than the face you both showed the world you finally got to hear it.

Love. A word he admitted he hadn’t quite believed in and so had never bothered to say. A word he felt was trite and meaningless because of how often it was said over every little thing. A word you’d managed to change his mind about, one that was special and intimate and meant only for the two of you.

“I love you,” you murmured to your boyfriend as the two of you lay cuddled together on his bed, curled up and quietly watching movies together on his laptop. It was something you didn’t say nearly as often these days, as you’d slowly adapted to Cater’s way of thinking that saying it about too many things cheapened the meaning in a lot of ways.

“I love you too,” he assured you, equally quiet, his normal exuberance set aside in placed of utmost sincerity, the words so real and rare on his tongue that you had no choice but to believe them.

He’d only ever said them to you, only ever planned to say them to you, a word that was meant for you and you alone, a little piece of his heart with your name stamped clearly in ownership. It was a privilege you savored and treated with the utmost care, it was the very least you could do to prove your own affections for your boyfriend who cared so very much.

He Makes Things For You

“How do I look?” you asked your boyfriend shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

Normally trying on clothes with Cater was a lot of fun. Even if you didn’t enjoy shopping all that much Cater made it into an experience. He had an extremely good eye for what would look good on someone and what wouldn’t. and put a lot of interesting things together. He was also perceptive enough to know what would make you uncomfortable and what wouldn’t, and work within your comfort zone.

It made him the idea shopping partner, and lots of fun, especially since he was more than happy to try on anything you asked for him as well. Honestly it was a bit unfair just how good Cater looked in pretty much everything. There were a few times you’d purposefully tried to pick silly things and yet, whether it was sheer force of personality or because he was simply that handsome he always seemed to look good. Still it was fun to try, and the two of you always had a good time together, laughing and teasing joyfully, and you almost never left empty handed.

This however was different. Cater had always had an eye for fashion, and had occasionally dabbled in making his own clothing. However, he’d never really taken it all too seriously before, despite the fact that perfectionist Riddle recognized his talent and had let him design the outfits for when they had to dress up for unbirthday parties.

Despite that, it had never occurred to you that Cater might want to try designing something for you. However he’d apparently wanted to do just that, as he’d shyly approached you with the suggestion when you’d complimented some of his work. That in itself had let you know how very important this was to him. Cater was never shy, so the fact that he’d been so hesitant to ask said a lot.

Which was of course why you’d agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Honestly even if he hadn’t been so shy about it you would’ve said yes. Cater knew your style inside and out and you trusted him more than words could say.

Your trust turned out to be well founded, and the outfit he’d made for you was utter perfection. It was done in colors that flattered your skin, eyes and hair, and had a cut that flattered your figure. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so simultaneously beautiful and comfortable before. You absolutely loved it, you just hoped Cater loved it too.

“You look beautiful,” Cater told you, quick on the mark as ever with a compliment as he hopped up from the couch he’d been waiting on, “But then again you always do.”

You huffed at that, but didn’t protest as he circled around you, holding still so he could view you from all angles.

“Do you like it?” he asked, once he reached your front again, uncharacteristically shy again.

“Cater are you kidding I love it!” you told him fiercely, not willing to let any sort of insecurity stand.

“Pretty sure you’d have to say that even if it was ugly babe,” Cater told you a little wryly.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you conceded, unwilling to lie, especially when you knew how much Cater valued honesty, but also unwilling to back down, “But in this case I’m definitely not exaggerating! Have you seen me?!”

You twirled in front of him arms spread for emphasis, “I look amazing! I feel amazing which, as you’ve told me, is just as if not more important! If you don’t believe me we can march right over to Pomefiore and get Vil. I’m sure you’d believe him!”

“No need for that,” Cater told you with a huff of amusement, his eyes warm and full of affection as he gently tugged you to him, his warm hands clasping your elbows as he peered into your eyes, “You really do like it babe?”

“I really, really do,” you answered him, with all the sincerity you could muster, “So much so I might just have to wear it every day. I’m not sure my other clothes could ever compare.”

“No need to go that far,” he insisted, though the bright look in his eyes belied the words, “I can always make you more.”

“So long as it doesn’t put you out,” you replied, “I’d love to wear your clothes Cater, anywhere anytime.”

Your boyfriend gave you one of his rare soft smiles, tugging you into his arms and just holding you, clearly grateful for what you’d said. You hugged back, quietly scheming to yourself determined to help Cater realize how talented he was. He deserved it, but in the mean time you would simply savor how much he clearly loved and trusted you, letting you be his first real model. You really couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend than Cater Diamond and you were now even more determined to make sure he knew just how much you adored him in return.

Like this or my writing in general? Feel free to drop by my ask box to make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first! Want to support me or make a commission? Please see my Ko-fi!

[fanfiction-inc]

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis. 

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased. 

He needed a reality check. 

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.” 

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?” 

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?” 

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?” 

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.” 

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.” 

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win. 

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.” 

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money. 

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!” 

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready. 

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.” 

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?” 

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John  Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?” 

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?” 

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked. 

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate. 

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through. 

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two. 

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up. 

1st: (First initial). (Last name) 

1st: H. Zemo 

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before. 

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.” 

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round. 

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?” 

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone. 

“Oui.” 

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name). 

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you. 

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything. 

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth. 

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress. 

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego. 

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind. 

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce​

[husbandomail]

omg omg hi ! i saw that you wrote for the original bakugan series and couldn't help myself from this 🤧 may i perhaps request a scenario where shun is in a relationship with a burned out perfectionist female reader who's also a member of the brawlers ? maybe she's exhausted herself yet again and he's rightfully concerned so he attempts to alleviate the stress with some relaxing, nsfw-esque physical care ?

I tried a full-on scenario but I just couldn’t get it working right, so I hope this is okay anyways!! It gets nsfw under the cut lmao, I’m still practicing adjshflk

Shun has never been a full-on affectionate type, so his love tends to be in the form of helping you out somehow— he’ll do the cooking or the cleaning or buy you small things you need. It helps that he’s super observant and can read you like a book, because he notices immediately that you’ve been pushing yourself too hard for too long.

One evening, when you get home from your work, he’s standing in the kitchen making dinner yet again; you only catch a glance over his shoulders, but it looks like some kind of stir-fry, although you’ll eat pretty much anything he makes for you. When you come up next to him, he runs his free hand through your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head, telling you to go rest— dinner will be ready soon, and then he’ll take care of you for the rest of the evening.

Throughout dinner, Shun is quiet, just listening as you speak; maybe you need to vent about whatever happened today, or maybe you just want to think about something besides your job. He lets you talk until you’re done, nodding along and humming and responding when needed; once you’ve finished your dinner and start reaching to wash the dishes, he gently guides you away from the chores and pulls you down the hall.

He’s quick to draw a bath for you, with bubbles and scented candles and flower petals that he got from somewhere. He tells you to just soak and relax until you feel better, he’ll take care of the chores— but before he can get very far, you’ve tangled your fingers in the cloth of his shirt and asked him if he’ll join you.

Shun rarely initiates more intimate contact, but you’ve already taken the bold first step, so that boosts his confidence enough to carry on. He starts out slowly, offering to wash your hair for you, gently twisting the strands in his nimble fingers and dragging his nails across your scalp until you shudder. From there his hands wander— they ghost down your sides and across your stomach and squeeze your hips, very pointedly avoiding your breasts, dipping down towards your legs to squeeze at your thighs. That’s about as far as he’ll take it until you give another signal— his touches leave you squirming in the water, trying to clamp your thighs around his traveling hand and goading him into touching you properly.

When you can’t get him to go any further without admitting what you want, you sigh and lean back against his strong chest; you reach behind you and gently grasp at his hardening cock, stroking him a few times until he twitches against you. He just sighs and nuzzles his face against your neck, nipping at the exposed skin until you start turning red. Finally his hands move again, one coming up to knead at your tits, the other finally delving between your legs to begin drawing patterns against your clit. When your hips jolt, he lets out a low laugh that rolls across your heated skin— his grip on you tightens, holding you in place against his chest as he slowly slips a finger past your folds.

[The water’s gonna be cold as ice by the time he’s done with you lmao]

[justcourttee]

The Ice Queen

So, @long-lost-peace was messaging me and they came up with this brilliant idea that Marinette leaves Paris and transfers to the school that Felix attends. When the class visits one day, they’re shocked to see the Marinette they once knew is gone, and in her place is an Ice Queen. 

This is Felinette and my best attempt at doing their amazing idea justice.

Marinette had no idea how she had gotten there.

Well, that was a lie. In all honesty, it had happened so fast. The minute she told her parents that she was applying for the design program in a London school, they were more than happy to help her pack weeks before she even received her acceptance letter. They knew she needed a break from the school and what better way than throwing herself into something she loved?

The train ride was only two hours and sixteen minutes.

Her parents helped her set up her new room in the campus suites and exchanged tearful goodbyes before she found herself alone soon enough. She took it upon herself to explore the new city, snapping pictures and jotting down all of her quick bursts of inspiration that came from the beauty of the sights. When she had returned, she found a small brunette rummaging through her closet as if it were her own.

“Uhm, I’m sorry, but can I help you with something?”

The girl didn’t even bother responding as she pulled out a top, holding it against herself for a moment before shaking her head, placing it back in the closet. Marinette looked down at her purse where Tikki’s head was peeking out in curiosity, their head cocked to side much like how Marinette looked.

“Well, uhm, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I am assuming you’re my roommate?”

The girl finally looked up from her rummaging, offering Marinette a half cocked smile.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived. You’re the new fashion major right? Do you think you could help me pick out an outfit that would impress even the most stone hearted person?”

Marinette opened her mouth but shut it just as quickly as the girl pulled out yet another one of her tops.

“Is that a no fashion major?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to regain her voice.

“I’m sorry but could you stop going through my clothes?”

The girl shrugged before stepping backwards, taking a seat on the edge of Marinette’s bed. “My name’s Kayla, guess I kind of forgot that. Anyways, I need your help, new girl. Felix is coming to the party tonight and he’ll never notice me if I keep dressing in the same drab. I need something new and exciting, can you manage that?”

“Kayla! I thought we were going to greet her together!”

Marinette spun around to face the girl that stood in her doorway pouting. Her head was swimming as two girl’s bickered about her arrival, completely oblivious to the shade of pale she had turned.

“-you are just so rude! I mean going through her clothes without her permission? A woman’s closest is an extension of their soul and, hey, Marinette, are you alright?”

Marinette’s eyes came back into focus as she loosened the tight grip she had on her purse. She managed a small nod, before lowering herself into the chair by her desk.

“Okay good, omg, where are my manners? I’m Delilah! And I’m sure you’ve already met Kayla, I’m so sorry in advance, my friend has no personal boundaries and refuses to learn them.”

Kayla simply shrugged from her spot on Marinette’s bed, her eyes still scanning her closet as if willing the perfect piece to fall into her lap.

“It’s nice to meet you both, I’m sorry it’s just, it’s my first day here and-”

“And that’s perfectly okay! You take all the time you need to get ready for the party tonight and if you need any help at all, Kayla and I are right down the hall! Let’s meet in the living room at 7 so that we can all go together kk? Great!”

Without another word, Delilah gathered Kayla’s arm pulling the girl out the door before she could protest, slamming it shut behind them. Marinette waited a moment to be sure no one was going to pop back in before she opened her purse, allowing Tikki to fly out.

“Oh my, they were very lively huh?”

Marinette simply shook her head, a tired smile gracing her face.

“Tikki, I think I need a sympathy nap for Delilah. I mean, she talks so fast and in such an upbeat manner, I don’t know how she can keep that up for hours on end.”

The kwami chuckled, their eyes scanning over Marinette’s room.

“Wow Mari, this room is huge! You can totally keep up like three projects just in that corner alone!”

“I know Tikki! This school takes their majors very seriously. If I remember right, Delilah is a gymnastics major and Kayla is a business one. I wonder how their rooms look.”

“Well, why don’t you go find out?”

Marinette shook her head as she stood, taking the few steps before collapsing face first on her bed.

“Nap first. If I’m going to some party tonight, I need this time to recharge.”

Tikki rolled their eyes at Marinette, opening their mouth to sass the young girl, but closing it instead upon seeing their chosen one already knocked out.

“Sweet dreams Marinette.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Delilah wasn’t joking.

She was already standing in the living room at 6:50, her foot tapping away as she waited for her roommates to join her. She practically had a heart attack when Kayla was one minute late, dragging both girls by their hands down the stairs in full lecture mode.

“-and we’re gonna miss him arriving! You know he always is so over the top!”

Marinette had no idea who this ‘him’ was, but it was beyond obvious that both girls were crushing hard. She tried to remember the name Kayla slipped earlier, but her brain refused to provide it to her. She simply listened intently to their many stories, biding her time until she could meet the mysterious him.

“Ah, we’re here. Quick, ladies, how does my hair look? You know Felix is a perfectionist, he can’t have his future wife with one strand of hair out of place.”

Kayla muffled her laughter with her hand as she helped Delilah brush a few strands behind her ear.

“You know Delilah, he can only be your future husband if he chooses you over me right?”

The girl’s face morphed into one of mock hurt as she placed her hand dramatically over her chest. Marinette couldn’t focus on their interaction though. Instead her head was somewhere else.

They couldn’t mean Felix Graham de Vanily right? She wasn’t that unlucky to transfer out of one school that housed Lila into another that housed Felix right?

“Omg, there he is!” Delilah’s squeal broke her thoughts as Marinette turned slowly to where both girl’s gazes sat. Instantly, she felt her heart stop.

“Hi Felix! Have you met Marinette yet? She’s my new roommate!”

Marinette’s face reddened as she tried to back step and hid behind Kayla, but both girl’s were insistent on showing her off. She saw Felix’s eyes narrow in on her, only confirming what she already knew.

“Marinette right? Would you care for a dance?”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes. What did he have planned? Felix was no gentleman offering the new girl a good time, no, he was a lying and deceitful scoundrel who couldn’t be trusted and-

“She would love to!” She felt Delilah’s hands on her back, pushing her into him. Her panicked eyes shot back to where the two girls stood giving her thumbs up. If only they knew.

Felix led her to the middle of the floor, his hand resting at the base of her back as they gently swayed to the music.

“Dupain-Cheng, tell me, do you desire my cousin so much that you had to move to London in hopes of the distance making him long for you? It’s quite the elaborate plan.”

“Excuse me? Exactly how pathetic do you think I am?”

“Do you want me to honestly answer that question?”

Marinette cut her eyes to the boy’s smug face, every fiber in her begging her to smack that look off.

“Besides, I don’t even like Adrien any more. He chose what was more important to him and in the end, that wasn’t me.”

Felix cocked his head to the side as if seeing the girl in a new light.

“So you’re done with your sorry crush on my cousin?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Felix’s smirk grew with every passing moment and honestly? It was starting to freak her out.

“Can you please wipe that stupid look off of your face?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he spun her out, drawing her in so that her back was pressed against his chest. His ear dropped down to her ear as her breath hitched in her throat.

“Let me tell you a little secret Marinette. You care too much. Try caring less, it would be a much more fitting look.”

As the song came to an end, Felix released her hand, offering her a mock bow before slipping into the crowd, leaving a flustered Marinette replaying his words on repeat in her head.

It would be a much more fitting look.

She wanted to pull her hair out in frustration. This was only her first night and he was already under her skin. In that moment, Marinette made up her mind. She would avoid speaking to Felix Graham de Vanily for the rest of her time here in London, even if it was the last thing she did. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Unfortunately, her vow didn’t even last one day.

Her roommates swooned over that first night, insisting that she was coming to every hangout as the newest contender for Felix’s affection. She tried to brush it off, tell them she wasn’t interested, but it was useless.

“You two had so much passion when you were dancing, the looks on both your faces, ah, beautiful. Even you can’t deny that he’s pretty!”

Delilah’s words set her fate in stone as she began seeing Felix regularly from lunch dates to movie nights to days out on the town. Their friend group welcomed Marinette with open arms, ready to drag her off at every chance.

When it came to their outings, she almost could attempt to ignore Felix’s smirks and sly comments all thrown in her direction. Her new friends helped her outgrow her fears and insecurities, Felix helped her become better at ignoring and dishing out insults. By the end of her first year in London, Marinette felt better about herself then she had in years.

At least until her teacher pulled her aside delivering the worst news she could’ve possibly imagined.

“Marinette! Your old class from Paris is coming to visit next week and we were wondering if you could translate for them. They’ll be touring our institute before continuing on with the tour of the city and to my knowledge, you are our only student who speaks fluently in both French and English.”

Marinette’s head was shaking before the teacher could even finish her sentence.

She didn’t want to see them again, she had finally gotten to the point in her life where all the damage they had done was gone. It was like a terrible dream, a relapse into her old self. She couldn’t do it, she-

A gentle hand settled on her shoulder bringing her back down from her near panic attack. Sheepishly, she peeked up to where Felix stood, his face unreadable.

“Mrs. James, I would like to translate as well. My cousin is in that class and taught me French quite some time ago. Between the two of us, Marinette and I can take on this assignment.”

Marinette felt her heart skip a beat as she focused in on where his hand still sat perched on her shoulder. What was that feeling of warmth slowly coursing it’s way through her body? No, absolutely not, it couldn’t be.

She watched as the teacher walked away leaving the two of them in an abandoned hallway, a silence filling the space. Slowly, Felix withdrew his hand before shoving it into his pocket, taking off in his usual brisk pace.

Marinette stood dumb founded in her spot, unsure whether to follow when his voice snapped her to attention.

“Come on Dupain-Cheng, we haven’t got all day.”

She shook off her nerves before practically jogging to catch up to the blonde. Falling in line with his pace, she kept her eyes straight forward, even when she felt his fingers interlock with hers. She swallowed hard, willing her heart to stop somersaulting through her body.

“We’re going to face them together okay? We’re going to show them the ice queen that you have grown to be.”

Marinette couldn’t trust herself to speak, instead choosing to nod in agreement.

“Good, after all, this new you is a much more fitting look.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A week came and went and Marinette found herself in front of the school building swallowing her nerves and steadying her face.

Taking Felix’s advice, she ditched her usual pigtails and outfit for a much edgier look complete with a high ponytail and more make up than she cared for. At first, she wanted to argue saying a new look could do nothing for her, but as Kayla finished placing the scarlet red on her lips, Marinette couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror.

The girl looking back was beautiful, confident, and most importantly cold. A befitting look for her new title as Ice Queen.

When the double decker pulled to a stop in front of the school, Marinette’s nerves began to swallow her. She wanted to ditch her position, trust that Felix could handle them and hide in her suite until she was sure they were gone. But a certain hand on her shoulder calmed her every frayed nerve as she straightened her posture, willing her face to remain as unexpressive as possible.

As the first of them began to unload, Felix leaned in, his breath tickling her ear.

“After this, they won’t forget you Marinette.”

He straightened back up, his small smile fading back into his own expressionless gaze.

Alya was the first to recognize her, her face contorting into a look of horror as she shook Nino’s shoulder, pointing him in Marinette’s direction. Slowly but surely, the word spread through the class the Marinette was here, waves of emotion crashing down.

Her old friend began to make her way toward where Marinette stood, but Madame Bustier reigned her back in, allowing the guide to welcome the class through Felix’s translation. Marinette scanned the crowd looking for one face in particular but alas she was nowhere to be found.

Adrien was though. Front and center, his mouth agape as he stared at Marinette’s new look. Through the day, Marinette could’ve sworn she counted over a dozen flies that he caught, but that didn’t stop from his hanging jaw.

It was easy work, translating. She would speak as nonchalantly as she could, never making eye contact and always looking as bored as she could. The waves of agitation spilling from Alya almost made her break character several times, but she kept reminding herself that her and Felix could laugh later, now was for taking a stand.

“Alright everyone, take an hour of free time but please, meet back in front of the school at 3:00 on the dot.”

This was the time Marinette had dreaded. It was easy to fake her new persona when there was nobody to face directly, but this was a different story.

As she thought, Alya, Nino, and Adrien made a beeline for her the minute Madame Bustier had dismissed them. Marinette turned around as if she couldn’t see them, hoping she could outwalk them, but instead she came face to face with a familiar chest.

“A queen doesn’t run Dupain-Cheng. They take a stand and fight. Now turn around, chin up, and let them have it.”

Marinette let out a slow breath before she turned back, straightening her posture and narrowing her eyes. Alya collided with her first, crushing her in a hug that Marinette didn’t bother to return.

“Girl we are so sorry, Adrien finally fessed up to us that Lila was lying a month ago and we all tried to reach out to apologize but it said your phone was disconnected-”

“That’s because it was. What makes you think I would want to hear from you now?”

Alya’s mouth blubbered like a fish out of water as she tried to gather her words together.

“Because dudette! We’re friends! And we needed you to know that we’re sorry and that you can come back to school!”

Marinette examined her nails lazily, slightly shaking her head.

“Oh Nino, we haven’t been friends for a while. In fact, I’m only here today because I was asked to translate.”

It was Nino’s turn to gape as he and Alya shared confused looks.

“Marinette, have you spending time with Felix? You know he’s not the best influence, look at how cold he’s made you.”

Adrien attempted to grab her hand, but Marinette pulled it just out of his distance. She felt the fury building up inside of her wanting to explode. She felt an arm fall over her shoulders, lightly pulling her into their side. She risked a small look up at Felix’s face that remained expressionless as he casually pushed Adrien back.

“Marinette! Don’t tell me you’re dating my cousin! I mean, he’s not even your type! I-”

He paused at the sight of Marinette’s playful smile. His eyes widened as she reached up, her hand gently grasping Felix’s jaw, pulling his lips down into hers. The kiss was short, but she swore she felt her head spinning. She was almost positive she would have fainted if he wasn’t already supporting her with his arm.

“But, Marinette, you’re my- we’re uhm-, you and me are friends! You can date your friends’ cousin!”

Marinette felt a smirk pull at her lips at the sight of her former friend’s distress.

“Watch me.”

She turned, ready to walk away, Felix’s arm still round her shoulder, but something stopped her in her tracks. Turning her head back slightly, she managed to make eye contact with the trio, their faces the perfect mixture of regret and confusion.

“Just to clarify. Felix didn’t make me cold, you all did when you turned your backs on me when I needed you the most. A frozen heart doesn’t happen overnight” she paused, her eyes meeting Felix’s, a warmth spreading through her at the sight of pride shining, all for her. “But it can be thawed in one.”

And without another look, Marinette took off, relishing in the feeling of being at her boyfriend’s side.

“Well done Dupain-Cheng, I would be kidding myself if I didn’t admit that I prefer this version of you than the stumbling girl I met years ago.”

Marinette let out a small laugh as she stood on her tiptoes, placing a quick peck to Felix’s now red face.

“I prefer this me too, and lucky for the both of us, the Ice Queen is here to stay.”

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy