#fi has sleeves under her sleeves

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

#kinda hate how this turned out goodnight loooooool #luna u sending in that ask made me think of this song LMFAOOO and i rlly didnt know what title to use so i just... dumb dick i guess LMAOAO #asks #🍒 anon 2 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto x you #getou smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #jjk thirsts #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #suguru geto #getou x you #suguru x reader

[bby-deerling]

black tea, with honey (zoro x reader)

some soft fluffy comfort <3

wc: 1.0k masterlist || ko-fi

ft. artist!reader, fem!reader, zoro does his best with emotions, robin being cool and awesome, first kisses, saccharine fluff, soft zoro

One wouldn’t know it by the way he had been holding you in his arms mere moments ago, but Zoro was trying in vain to keep distance from you.  The gentle companionship built between you was comforting and soothing, but each day spent rocking back and forth on the Merry made it all too clear that the tightly woven string that held his heart to yours was too tough and intricate to snap or fray.  Beneath the surface laid a deep affection for you, etched into the raw flesh of his beating heart; he hadn’t felt this before, and was frightened by the prospect of letting it consume him and his ambitions whole.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t quite stay away from you; he tries to keep busy with extra training, but when he spots you sketching on the deck, he can’t stop himself from curiously prying and peeking over your shoulder as he lifts his weights.  When the midday sun lulls you into a gentle sleep, he lays against you and dozes off without a second thought as he succumbs to the comfort of your presence, drinking in the sunbeams radiating from your warm, sleepy skin. 

And when you sit in the crow’s nest together, keeping watch in shifts, he can’t help pulling you close as you nod off, nestling your head into his broad chest as the waves roll under the night sky.  Stars twinkle softly overhead, reflecting gentle resilient light across unfathomable expanses of space, destined to land on your rosy cheeks.  He cares—far more than he knew he was capable of—and though the sensation of his heart melting in your embrace is tantalizing, he is concerned about the implications of an entanglement on both his and your dreams and destinies.

He's pulled out of his mind by the harsh clash of metal against porcelain, failing to keep control of his spoon while mixing honey into your tea.  “Distracted, swordsman?” Robin asks curiously, her icy eyes tinged with mischief as she observes him struggling to properly place a cover over the top of your mug, despite it being part of his nightly routine as he switched off watch duties with you.

“No.  Mind your own business.” he snaps, grateful that the blanket of darkness enveloping the kitchen hides the embarrassed flush on his face.  The tension is thick as she scrutinizes him, unnerving him as each movement and expression is evaluated and analyzed.

“Thinking about our little artist?  The two of you are quite cute together.” she pries, her grin only growing despite his harsh response to her prior inquiries.

“We’re not together.” he bites back, more defensively than he intends to as he finally secures the lid on your cup, “She has her dream, I have mine, and we both are dedicated to helping Luffy reach his.  There’s no room for distractions or screwing around.”  The words hang in the air, resonating off the four walls of the kitchen; though he has his reservations about his budding feelings, he regrets the way he's spoken them into existence, and secretly hopes you were still too smothered by sleepiness to listen in.

“Is that so?” Robin challenges, smile dropping from her face as her eyes darken behind her bangs.  “So, you wake up beside her, spend all day attached at the hip together, and fall asleep holding her in your arms each night with no purpose or intent?” 

She hides her expression behind her teacup as she sips on the soothing chamomile extract; Zoro was far easier to fluster than she had expected him to be, enough so that she swore smoke started billowing from his ears simply from the insinuation that he was being reckless with your heart.  For a man who prides himself on being collected and reserved, he’s glaringly obvious when he puts his heart on his sleeve, and though his acts of devotion and care towards you may go unnoticed by other members of the crew, there were not lost on Robin—not for a second.

Taking his reaction as an answer, she continues, switching from probing questions to gentle advice.  “Swordsman, I think the only distraction is you overthinking things; you’re both going to the same place—why not go together?” she asks, her eyes softened as she gives him a sly smile.  Though Zoro doesn’t speak, the swirling tension in the kitchen dissipates as he takes a deep breath and gives her the slightest hint of a nod as he leaves the kitchen, muttering a quiet g’night under his breath as he carries your cup of tea back to the crow’s nest.

He finds you greeting him with bleary eyes and a sleepy smile, cozy and bundled up in heaps of blankets as you fight the sirens murmuring sweet seaside lullabies into your ear.  Soft greetings are exchanged, but he breaks the routine by setting your cup to the side and pausing to look at you, opting to meet your gaze instead of returning to his spot behind you and pulling you flush against his chest.  Nothing needs to be said as his fingertips brush your face, and he stares into the pools of starlight in your eyes; how he feels is understood and reciprocated with a single loving, dreamy look—in that moment he knows your fates are twisted and intertwined, and that truthfully, they had been for quite some time.  As his lips meet yours there is no hesitation; raw emotion and care guide each soft movement of your mouths as your gentle soul collides with his rough and calloused touch.  The entwining of his tongue with yours is a promise, a vow to protect, to cherish, and to love one another—he’s left completely dizzy as he pulls away, giving you the soft, gentle smile that he reserves for you alone.

When he takes his place behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, his head is clear and meditative; he’s lighter, focused, and happy, and he can’t help but feel grateful for Robin’s prying and meddling as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“Sweet dreams, Zoro…” you whisper softly as your attention turns to the crashing waves, humming contently at the way his head nestles into your shoulder.  He silently replies with a chaste press of his lips against the sensitive column of your neck; indulging in the comfort of your skin lulls him into a deep sleep, and leaves you blushing and buzzing with energy as you sip on your lovingly prepared cup of tea.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro #zoro #x reader #zoro fluff #i love him sooooooooo much #zoro my beloved.....<3 #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario

[cerisekoo]

jungkook's version

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader x taehyung

word count: 3.7k

co-written with @crybabychim!

read her taehyung's version

warnings: heavy non con themes, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of physical violence.

Sore. 

The only word you can use to describe how you feel right now. An intense feeling of grogginess takes over as you wake up, head pounding and a painful soreness sits in between your legs. 

You wish you could say it was only a nightmare. A sick and twisted dream you’ve just endured. However, you physically and mentally can’t say that. Your swollen eyes start to well up with salty tears as you look around the unfamiliar dimly lit room and bed you lay in, remembering the sick events that took place almost a day prior. 

You’re cold. A thin gray sheet covering your trembling body, the feeling grosser than ever when you feel something damp in your underwear, threatening to seep down your thighs. 

You begin to sob when you realize what it is. You can’t forget the way he handled you like you were some type of object, just a toy for him to use. You hated that you also came multiple times,  you couldn’t help how your body was reacting to him.

The bed is empty, you’re left by yourself to be eaten alive by your thoughts. You fear for when he returns from wherever he currently is, scared he may try to do something to you again but even rougher than the first time.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. You immediately shut your eyes before you can see the figure standing in the doorway. Your face is tear stained, but you still attempt to make it seem like you are still asleep.

You hold your breath when the sound of footsteps get closer to the bed, even scarier when they stop. The next thing you know a hand is smoothing out your hair, their fingers running from your hairline down to your jaw. Their hand moves to wipe your visible tears and a wave of chills hits you at the feeling.

You slowly open your eyes, trying to register the face of the person in front of you.

It's not the same guy from before.

This one has long hair, big black pupils, and a very detailed tattoo sleeve. 

“Good, you’re awake.” The unfamiliar man speaks up after a minute of pure silence since he’s walked in. 

You are speechless, not wanting or knowing what to say. Does he already know what happened? Is he in on this too?

You remain silent, the most you can do is tear up once again as you’re scared of what is yet to come.

“Get up, you need a shower,” is all that leaves his mouth before he begins to pull the sheet from your frail body. His authoritative words make you flinch a bit, but you don’t have the energy to fight back.

He encourages you to get up with a sign of his hand and you execute yourself with difficulty, the bones in your body cracking, making you wince in pain. You can’t ignore the messy state that you are in, shivering as the temperature of the room feels very cold. This situation embarrasses you very much. 

He notices your struggle to lift yourself from the bed, leading him to take matters into his own hands and lift you from the mattress. You are surprised at how he isn’t dragging you around like a pet, but his grip on you is assertive. 

You feel your face heating up at the fact that your chest is pressed up against his firm one. You immediately pass your arms around his neck as one of his arms wraps around your back, the tattooed one under your butt, your legs still dangling in the air.

He walks only a few steps out of the bedroom and down the hall before opening the new door with his hand that was previously over your back. You enter a rather small bathroom like he’s told you before in the bedroom. 

He puts you down and you manage to find your balance, even though you still struggle a bit. He makes his way to the shower and turns on the faucet. He makes his way back to you as the water heats up, yet he doesn’t leave. 

“W-what are you doing?” You stumble over words when his hands find their way to the hem of your shirt, threatening to expose your naked body. He stops and stares at you blankly.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you obviously can’t stand on your two feet let alone take care of yourself.” He states firmly. You’re not some little girl who can’t do anything on your own, you’re a grown woman.

“No, I got it.” You speak without a second thought. 

He arcs an eyebrow up, as if not believing you. “And what will happen if you trip over and knock your head into the counter? Have you seen yourself?” 

You swallow. You dare to look at yourself in the mirror above the sink, and you aren’t looking good at all. He has a point, but you still don’t want to undress yourself in front of a stranger.

“I’m just here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. I won’t do anything.” 

You don’t answer for a few seconds, debating in your head. It wouldn’t be smart to trust him, but it’s not like you have a choice, and anyway, right now you prefer him over the other guy… 

You start to pull your shirt over your head with a burning face, avoiding his gaze at all cost. You feel extremely humiliated as you slip out of your panties.

He doesn’t show any signs of lust, actually having a calm and composed expression. You shouldn’t get fooled, though, because he is good at hiding his true emotions. 

You cover your naked breasts with your arms, keeping your legs closed so he can’t get a good look at your private parts. “I can wash myself. Can you, please, leave?”

“Whatever. I’ll get you some clothes,” he replies, rolling his eyes. He looks at you one last time before saying, “My name’s Jungkook, by the way.” 

And with that, he actually leaves. He closes the door behind him, which relieves you a little bit. He at least agreed to give you some privacy. It’s nice of him, you think, but you shouldn’t get high hopes. 

You step into the hot water, your cold limbs feeling more relieved as you stand directly under the shower head. You wet your entire body, about to reach for the citrus shampoo, a smell you recognize from last night, when the sound of the bathroom door opening catches your attention.

“I got you some clothes, this is all I have for you right now.” Jungkook calls over the sound of the shower running while setting the folded clothes on the bathroom counter. Yet he isn’t showing any signs of leaving.

“Hm, okay, thanks… Can you let me finish first, please?” You plead while watching his form move behind the shower curtain. 

He’s not moving towards the door though, but closer to you. As you wait for him to leave, he unexpectedly pulls the curtains to the side and your eyes open wide in surprise when he joins you, completely naked. 

That’s why he wasn’t leaving, he was stripping down from his clothes, having the intention to enter the shower with you. He absolutely ignored your words of leaving you alone. 

You move back instantly, your body hitting the cold tiles of the shower. You again cover yourself with your arms, keeping your mouth sealed shut, paralyzed.

He’s so imposing, even more when naked. You can’t help but stare at him, unable to look at the bottom half of his body, too embarrassed and still shocked by his sudden inappropriate behavior. 

However, he doesn’t seem to think there's a problem, instead reaches for the vanilla body wash just as you were about to do. 

“Just wanna help you,” he explains, big eyes looking back at you. He looks so serene, and you hate that nothing seems to destabilize him. “Turn around,” he instructs and when you don’t budge an inch, he grabs your arm and moves you himself. You gasp at his straightforwardness, your mind already telling you this won’t end well. He’s already lied to you once, so there's a high chance he’s done it again.

He squeezes the soap into a white loofah, moving your wet hair to scrub your backside, making sure to not miss any part. He moves down to your arms, working his way up to your tits. He slowly drags the loofah back and forth over your pebbled nipples, catching on the way your breath hitches when he does. 

After a minute of solely washing your breasts, he brings the loofah to your stomach, each scrub leading his hand lower on your hips.

Jungkook suddenly discards the scrubber, his big hands sinking down to your private parts. He places his head onto your shoulder, his long, wet hair tickling your neck. You try to shove him off of you, but his grip on you isn’t budging, his hand already cupping your pussy.

“You- you said you were just w-washing me,” you frantically spit out, grabbing at his arm that’s on your mound. Instead of answering you, he takes his free arm and crosses it over waist, trapping both of your arms under him.

He takes his pointer and middle finger to spread your swollen cunt open for him to observe. You feel so exposed, so played that he lied to you again after using the excuse of ‘just washing you’ to get his way with you.

“Shit. Taehyung didn’t go easy on you, huh?” 

Taehyung. So that is the name of the one who got his hands first on you. 

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts when his index finger makes contact with your clit, pussy clenching involuntarily at the feeling.

“Please, just… stop,” you pathetically beg for him to move his hands. Yet all you get from him is his heavy breathing, and something poking your asscheek.

“You’re sensitive as fuck. Look at you.” He comments as he sees your legs twitching with every rub he gives your throbbing clit, hole slicking up at the stimulation.

Not being able to wait much longer, Jungkook removes his fingers from your pussy, pushing the arch of your back lower, grabbing his now fully erect cock while opening your legs a bit wider than before with his leg.

“No, stop… Please, don’t,” your words are rushed when he forcefully pushes himself inside your swollen cunt. 

His thrusts are rough, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his large size, which leads your hole to violently clench around him, making it harder for him to control himself.

“Tae already dealt with you, how are you still so small?” he says through clenched teeth, his tattooed hand going to grab at your jaw, squishing your lips and cheeks. 

He forcefully lifts your head up to look at him, leaving you no other choice than to make eye contact. 

“N-no, stop, it hurts,” you try to speak when your mouth is being crushed in between his long fingers. He doesn’t listen to you though, repeatedly slamming his cock into you from behind, his pelvis hitting your ass with force within every thrust.

The water is still warm, running down both of your bodies, disregarding the fact that you need to clean yourself. You feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, his cock hitting the right places. You hate that it's starting to feel good, you’re not supposed to be turned on by this.

Before you can reach the edge, Jungkook pulls his cock out of you, leaving your hole empty and gaping. Yet not being able to utter a single word, your body is turned around and he kneels in front of you, his face directly in front of your crotch.

He gives your clit some attention, throbbing when his tongue licks a full stride over it. You whimper when you feel the metal of his lip rings adding the slightest friction to your clit.

You surprise yourself when your hand travels down to grip his long, wet hair. He eats your cunt like a starved man, his nose replacing his tongue when he finds his way back to your hole.

“Tastes better than I imagined, baby, fuck,” he groans before shoving his face back into your sopping pussy. 

You slightly grind your hips on his face, feeling him smile against your pussy. You’re shocked at how quick you’re about to reach your orgasm, Jungkook sliding his fingers inside of you to bring you to the edge even faster.

He speeds up the pace of his fingers that are hitting your sweet spot, his mouth sucking harshly on your clit, desperate for you to cum on his face. Your hole clenches repeatedly at the feeling, unable to hold it in anymore, you finally reach your high.

Jungkook fucks his fingers into you through your orgasm, your legs tightening around his head. Your hand on his hair shakes weakly, moaning at the feeling of his lips being still on your cunt, tongue flicking your bud of nerves from side to side. 

He stands back up and passes your legs around his waist. Just when he’s about to slide back into you, he notices a creamy ring of your cum at the base of his cock and his fingers, covering some of his dark pubes, a little dripping down to his balls. He can’t help but get more excited than before now that he sees your body is enjoying it. 

You moan out at the stretch in this new position, your pussy taking every inch he gives you even though you are sensitive from your first orgasm. Both of your naked chests rub together when he pushes himself closer to maintain the same eye contact as before. His wet abs clench at the feeling, thrusts sloppier than they were previously. 

You can’t even lie to yourself, the bulging muscles and strength he has to hold you brings you a tingly feeling in your tummy you’re ashamed to admit. Your nails dig into his sides at the oversensitivity, pussy still quivering around his cock. 

A small whimper escapes your lips that you tried so hard to keep from leaving your throat. Your walls tighten up around Jungkook while he never slows down his thrusts, fucking you to reach his own orgasm.

“Yeah, baby. Gonna fucking make me cum too.” 

He fucks into your spent pussy sloppily which has you wincing in overstimulation. The pain doesn’t last much longer when you feel his thick ropes of cum filling your cunt.

“Shit, yeah. Like it when I fill you, huh?” He groans into your ear, his soaking wet hair brushing against your face.

His thrusts finally stop when he pulls out of you, cum quickly escaping your bruised pussy. He backs you up from the wall to set you down back onto your feet, legs shaking from how intense he fucked you.

Without a word, he brings your body forward to the shower head, rinsing your body. He rubs his hands over your body, slowly inching down to your swollen pussy as he cleans it of his cum gently. Your face can’t help but heat up at the action, you wouldn’t have expected him to give you aftercare. 

He leans over, turning the faucet off and steps out of the shower first. He grabs a towel from the cabinets to wrap around his slim waist, and another to wrap around your shivering body. 

You’re still shaking, barely being able to get out of the tub. He places his hands under your underarms, swiftly lifting you up and out of the tub, your feet meeting the cold floor. He’s about to unwrap the towel from you when you tighten your grip around it. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” he reassures you. You loosen your hand from the hem of the towel, letting him take care of it.

He undoes the towel from your body, beginning to dry you off. No one has done this for you ever, so you don’t know what to do with yourself. It is odd letting a man you don’t know dry you after a shower.

He admires your body, your smooth skin filled with goosebumps which makes your delicate nipples hard.

Once you’re dried off completely, he leans over to grab the t-shirt for you to wear. 

“Arms up.” He instructs when he pulls the shirt over your head, helping you to slip it on. He grabs a pair of black boxers you assume are his for you to wear. 

Once he slips the underwear onto you, he wraps his arms around your torso, kissing your jaw and down your neck. You’re flustered, but you don’t make an effort to lean into his touch. How can you react to that after what he’s done to you in the shower. 

The sound of the front door being unlocked interrupts the moment between the pair of you. Jungkook removes his arms from around you and grabs a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, slipping them on quickly.

“Tae’s back.” He says nonchalantly. In all honesty, you are most afraid of Taehyung out of the two men for obvious reasons.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You start to adjust to how things work between the two boys and their routines. It took you a bit by surprise when Taehyung instructed you to sleep directly in between them in one bed. It did make you a bit uncomfortable, but you got used to it.

Jungkook is with you the majority of the day since you’re asleep in the mornings he has class and awake when Taehyung goes to his own. It's as if they have you in ‘shifts’, not ever letting you have alone time or any privacy. 

You were bored most of the time, but you’ve found Jungkook cooking to be entertaining. You love watching his veiny tattooed hands prepare meals for you. You hate to admit that it turns you on.

Jungkook never lets you out of his sight, forcing you to be in the room with him at all times. His standards are very strict for you, like his ‘no TV or phone’ rule unless he’s there. 

No matter what you do, you are left with no way to reach the outside world. It drives you crazy having to live with constant unanswered questions since they refuse to give you any answers.

“I miss my family,” you mumble under your breath, playing with the food on your plate, which you know angers Jungkook a lot. 

“Stop playing with your food and eat it before it gets cold.” Jungkook responds, completely ignoring your comment. 

He side-eyes you and you keep looking at your plate, not acknowledging his command, getting him irritated. Taehyung, on the other hand, gives you a sad look with pouty lips, having pity for you.

“Do they even know where I am, if I’m even alive?” You pick at the topic more, not daring to coward away from Jungkook’s irritated look. 

“Baby, why are you thinking about that right now? Just eat.” Taehyung coos, going to reach for your shoulder when you dodge his touch. 

You groan at him and he doesn’t like this at all, hating when you avoid his touch. You know you’re making both of them angry, but it isn’t any of your fault. They shouldn’t be the ones to be mad, it should be you. 

That's when you’ve had enough of their silence. Instead of constantly bombarding them with questions you know they’ll just brush off, you decide to ignore them entirely. Not making eye contact, constantly refusing their commands, and not eating. 

“Don’t give into her whims, Tae. It's just gonna give her ideas.” Jungkook speaks, making stern eye contact with Taehyung. You can tell this is something that they’ve discussed before. It was inevitable you’d get curious and ask questions.

You get up to push out of your chair, leaving your untouched plate on the table. You know not finishing your food will strike a nerve.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Jungkook raises his voice, causing you to flinch at his loud tone.

“Obviously nowhere. I can’t leave this stupid place!” You point out as if it isn’t clear enough for them to know.

Jungkook matches your action and gets up too, disregarding your full plate.

“Watch your tone. You’re the one who’s asking pointless questions. Sit your ass back down and finish eating.” 

“No! I can’t, I don't want to!” You reply back right away, your eyes starting to water. “I want to know, that’s all I want,” you explain to them almost desperately, almost begging. 

Taehyung tries to cool down the situation.

“Let’s all just calm down, okay? I’m sure you’re hungry, baby,” he speaks to you softly, even though you made him upset as well. 

“No, I won't calm down. It isn’t fair!” you heave, controlling your tears in an effort to not to seem weak.

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook intervenes, “because if you don’t you’ll regret it. Don’t underestimate what I’ll do, understand?” 

“You both have done enough to me but you draw the line at me asking about my family? Just leave me alone.”

“Where is this even coming from? We give you everything, so stop being ungrateful.” Jungkook argues back.

Deflecting from the subject, one of the things he’s best at. You hate when he does it, but you don’t want to fight with him. You physically and mentally can’t. 

“You don’t understand! You ripped me away from my family and school. You took everything away, and I’ll never get my life back! The worst thing about this is not knowing anything…”

You can’t hold it in when sobs escape your mouth. You aren’t able to stand up on your feet anymore and let yourself fall down on the floor, curling up on yourself. 

As if a switch flips in their minds, they both come rushing towards you. Taehyung is the first to crunch down at your level, worry and pity plastered on his face. He comforts you with his embrace while Jungkook looks guilty, nibbling down on his lip. 

After that day, you’ve learned to not question them about anything associated with your past life. All it did was lead to big arguments and lost trust from you. You’ve come to terms that this is your life from now on, whether you like it or not.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

a/n: hiii this is my first post on this side blog! i hope you guys enjoyed it bc there's more to come! lmk if you think I should start a taglist on here!!! :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x fem!reader

[noneorother]

It couldn't be a masquerade ball because it was an unmasked ball

The S2E5 ball symbolism seemed very prominent to me when I watched Season 2 even for the first time, but I saw @meatballlady ask this wonderful question & Neil's answer and thought : hey why not share my thoughts on the clothing at the ball as well.

If you're reading this you probably know all about how coat lapels are an important character signifier both seasons of GO. If not, TLDR; jacket lapels align with a character's intentions, and their alignment with a faction is determined by their jacket colour (light goes up or dark goes down).

So why do I say that this was an "unmasked" ball? Because if you follow the lapel theory, all the important participants who seem neutral in real life gain allegiances in their costumes when they enter the bookshop. Let's break it down.

Crowley & Aziraphale

If you aren't just making everyone fancy, but actually trying to reveal intentions during this ball, then it would make sense that Aziraphale and Crowley don't change outfits : they've been wearing their hearts on their sleeves since season 1. Maggie

In everyday life, Maggie purposely wears tops without lapels. Everything is round or crew-neck, and she never wears black. In the ball reveal, Maggie wears black for the first time, and has big pointing down lapels on her navy satin shirt, indicating alignment with Hell in both colour and intention. All of her cutesy bows and hearts and gold jewelry are gone. She wears sparkly silver only, and a prominent wristwatch (like Crowley). However, her pinkie ring is still present. (go read @indigovigilance's post about pinkie rings, it's great).

Nina

Nina is all over the place in real life. Colours clash and she wears black and earth tones often. She also never wears jackets with lapels. When we get to the ball however, she suddenly has a golden brocade jacket with teal & crimson shoulders, and golden hair clasps. She becomes exactly what Maggie is attempting to project in real life, but her lapels are pointing out and up, so alignment with heaven in both colour and intention. No pinkie ring on Nina in the series. Under the jacket she wears green and crimson. A confused pairing as I've ever seen on the show. Who knows what that's about*. Jimbriel

In normal life, Jim is ultra-neutral with lapels pointing out (neither up nor down) on a brown coat. (Underneath is a whole different ball game for another post.) Jimbriel gets a hilariously Liberace-fied version of the Aziraphale outfit : bowtie, poweder blue and labels pointing down and also to the side, fluffy white and details like Michael and Uriel. He's HELPING AZIRAPHALE WITH THE PLAN, wink wink nudge nudge. You go Jim. Mutt

Mutt the magic shop owner also has a pinkie ring in real life, as does his spouse, and keeps it for the ball. He gains impressive gold details on his lapel-less tunic, and the colour shifts from base of black to a base of navy, with red and white flowers instead of orange and teal swoops. His sleeves widen, becoming almost an angelic robe-like tunic, making him kind of a mysterious mashup of symbols. Arnold

Arnold of Arnold's music shop fame is wearing black with rainbow tie and suspenders before the ball, without much jewelry save a pinkie ring. Inside the ball, he keeps the black, but now has crimson and teal accents instead of rainbow, and lapels that are very high up, but that point out to the side, making him more neutral/Mutt the magician aligned, even if he's wearing black. Justine

Justine wears Hellish green and black in real life on her daisy patterned dress, no lapels here. She has no pinkie ring either, but once inside the ball, all the green melts away and she's allllll black flowered lace. She also has no lapels here, making her also more aligned with Mutt & Arnold than anything, but just as mysterious. Mrs Sandwich

Mrs Sandwich seems easier to judge. Black and gold no lapels in real life, alllll sparkly black and big downturned lapels for the ball. No pinkie ring on her in either outfit, but a prominent wristwatch. This makes total sense to me. Even if she might not be aligned with hell directly, she runs a brothel and profits off of sex workers so probably a pretty bad lady if we're weighing the odds from a biblical perspective. In other moments she also seems pretty fond of Crowley, and pretty unhappy with Nina (see above). Mr&Mrs Cheng

Mr & Mrs Cheng are VERY interesting to me. While Cheng wears all black in real life, and we never see her partner, she is transformed in the ball into the only character (besides Nina in solid green) who wears a green pattern. She has become a plant/garden (specifically a Monsterra, like in Corwley's box), and her husband is the pollinating golden butterfly, (with neutral lapels on a black background). Neither of them wear pinkie rings, but Mrs Cheng keeps her distinctive teal earrings, and is now sporting red lipstick, making her and her husband most associated with Nina. Nina also trusts Cheng enough to mind her coffee shop whilst talking to Crowley across the street in the last dregs of E6. As an aside, they also seem to *sort of* have a pre-teen girl child at this ball. We see her briefly in the evacuation but very hidden between other characters, and never in the ball proper. Mr Brown

Do we need to go through Mr Brown's outfit again? I don't think so. ------------------------------ * I have a feeling it's to do with other things, like Jim's sweater vest, but I'll have to dig into it later.

#good omens meta #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #good omens 2 #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #good omens prime #crowley x aziraphale

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

The Princess and The Duke Chapter 1 - Homecoming

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. 

Specific Warnings: Daddy Kink, Sex Work, Cam work, Infidelity, Step-Cest, Dave York(he always needs his own warning), Men being sexist dicks on the internet, masturbation (m and f), mutual masturbation(unknowing). Let me know if I missed anything!

Graphic made by me, does not convey shape, race, or hair colour of reader, the panties just looked so good, no use of Y/N.

Thank you to @pastelnap and @wannab-urs for beta-ing for me, ilu so much.

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

She’s late. 

You’re hardly surprised, your mom has never been what anyone could ever describe as punctual, but you are annoyed. Is this punishment for quitting your lucrative position at the law firm? For not telling her, only so she could find out on the rumour mill? No, your mom is petty, but this would be low even for her. She’s probably just drunk and forgot. Even if it is only two in the afternoon.

You sigh as you open the Uber app on your phone, the estimated wait is another twenty minutes. You sigh as you book one anyway, looking around for somewhere to sit. You look up to see a vaguely familiar man exit a flashy looking Mustang, the dark textured racing stripes on cherry red catching your attention as he races into the arrivals short-stay bay. 

He’s dressed in dark grey slacks and a pale dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks like an investment banker, or some other scummy Wall Street type. The handsome man scans the crowd with purpose. His broad, tense, shoulders flex as he moves, his brow is deeply furrowed as he turns to you. His eyes are impossibly dark, deep amber bleeding into black. You blink rapidly as you hear your name roll from his plush lips and you cock your head to the side with a confused grimace on your face. 

“Do I know you?” 

The near-stranger’s face contorts as he hurries over to you.

“I’m Dave, your mom’s husband? Weren’t you at the wedding?” 

“Oh shit. Yeah hi, sorry I’m really jetlagged and some kid was kicking my seat the whole flight.” You scramble, horrified that you clearly forgot what your new stepdad was called, let alone what he looks like. It feels weird, using such a term at your age, surely the idea of stepparents was well beyond you, but here you are. 

“It’s no problem, let me take your bags.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, grabbing your two enormous suitcases before you can move, leaving you with your carryon and rucksack. You follow Dave, intrigued by the strangely friendly nature of your mother’s current husband. 

“I could have got those.” 

You say as you round the vehicle, dumping your bags in the oddly spacious trunk. Dave looks at you with a grimace as he runs his hand through his short hair. You don’t know why but he’s tense. You try not to let it get to you as you brush past him to reach the passenger side door. You slide in without a word as you watch Dave manoeuvre into his seat. 

“It’s nothing, least I could do seeing as I’m late.” 

You try and ignore the way your eyes rove over his body, he’s way too hot for your mom, and fuck, he can’t be a day over forty, ten years older than you at best. The engine roars to life and you hear the distortion from the exhaust, telling you the car has been modded.

“What exhaust did you get added in?” 

Dave doesn’t take his eyes off the road but you note the twitch of his plush lips as he smiles. 

“You know cars?” 

“Maybe,” You shrug as you watch the freeway peel around you at the speed Dave is driving, “Just know that drone,” You gesture over your shoulder with a smile, “Happens when you take too many silencers out. You compensating for something Dave?” 

He exhales through his nose in a short huffing noise, something like a laugh; and your chest flutters at the look he gives you through the rear-view mirror. His eyes crinkle a little at the corners and his dark eyes dance with light as his lips twitch upwards into a smile that makes his cheeks dimple. 

“Your mom warned me about that smart mouth of yours, just didn’t expect such a sharp tongue.” 

You don’t know why but the light scolding from your stepfather makes your pussy clench. You break eye contact and opt to stare out of the window for the rest of the drive. You put it down to jet lag, or sleep deprivation, but every time you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with his fresh perspiration it sends your mind into overdrive. 

You catch glimpses of him, his thick forearms as he changes gears, as he pulls in and out of traffic and you cannot believe that this man is married to your mother of all people. You pull out your phone and start looking at your schedule for the week, you’re going to be giving your viewers a show tonight, even if you didn’t have a livestream booked in, you think you can make an exception tonight. 

~*~

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the way Dave is also sneaking looks at you, taking you in. And all the while he’s trying to expel the thoughts of you from his mind. But one thing he can’t ignore, that already has him transfixed, is the way you’re clearly the polar opposite of your mother. You’re smart, worldly, and interested in something more than yoga, mani-pedis, or the bottom of a wine bottle. 

He keeps telling himself that he’s stealing glances to size you up, get a feel for the kind of person you are. As if he’s analysing you like a hit. He didn’t miss the way your pupils dilated as he scolded you, nor the way your chest heaved as your breathing picked up. The app on your phone looked identical to the one he uses to organise his work schedule. He couldn’t get a clear look, but it surprised him to see that you weren’t scrolling through social media or texting friends. He files that away for later as he forces himself to stop looking at you. 

With every passing second his gaze is less analytical and there’s a hunger to the way his eyes travel over your body. He tries to quash the selfish desire roiling in his belly as he focuses back on the road. 

~*~

You must have fallen asleep at some point, the rumble of the V8 engine somehow lulling you off to sleep. A broad hand jostles your bare shoulder, and you hum softly as you come around. You look up to see Dave’s dark eyes staring into your own. His jaw is tight, and his plush lips pursed as his palm lingers on the swell of your shoulder. 

“We’re here.” 

Is all he says before he slides out of the seat, slamming the door behind him as he makes his way to the trunk. He grabs all of your bags this time, not giving you a chance to protest as he exits the garage through a side door you can only assume leads into the house. 

The garage is huge, bigger than your entire apartment in New York and you raise an eyebrow at the meticulous organisation of the space. The floors are swept and polished, the dark linoleum flooring practically shining in contrast to the bright white walls. Tool benches and cabinets line the far wall, sandwiching a large work bench between them. 

You notice that your mom’s escalade is absent from the garage, she must be out as she would never park on the driveway. You hear Dave call your name from inside the house and hurry through the door. 

You recognise the marble countertops and wood floors from the many video calls with your mom when she’s drunk and feeling sentimental. What you hadn’t realised is how goddamn big the kitchen was. 

“Fu-uck.” 

Dave looks at you with a raised brow for a mere second before he realises you’re marvelling at his kitchen. He winces a little before his right hand rubs against the back of his neck as he tries to find the right thing to say. 

“It’s a lot, right?” 

There’s a nervous chuckle lacing his tone and you look up with an equally stunned expression as you realise he’s humble. The thought is jarring as you see the bashful flush across his cheeks. 

“’Sounds like you didn���t have much of a choice in it?” 

You volley back at him, still in minor-shock from the utter opulence of the house. You knew Dave had money, but this was something else. 

“Your mom picked the house; I just paid the bill.” 

He laughs, but it sounds hollow, rehearsed even. 

“Didn’t think mom had it in her.” You mutter under your breath as you remorsefully commend your mother for landing someone with looks and money. 

“Have what in her?” Dave asks as he scoffs before leaning against one of the marble countertops. 

“Nothing, sorry I’m just exhausted could you show me where I’ll be staying?” 

“Follow me.” Dave shrugs, the whimsy leaving his face in a flash as he seems to shake himself mentally. 

You do as you’re told and traipse after him. The whole house is a shade of beige, white, or wood textures. It reeks of your mom and her obsession for everything Scandinavian or minimalist. 

Sad beige houses for sad beige housewives.

You think to yourself, imagining Werner Herzog speaking the words like in that TikTok video about sad beige children. 

Dave shows you to your room and leaves you to unpack and get comfortable. The room is huge, you look around at the sad beige interior design choices and immediately get out your iPad, jotting down notes and making a vague floor plan of the room. 

The furniture, though boring, is low priority, clearly never used. The desk to the right of the door lines up perfectly with the base of the bed, perfect. There are two doors on the far-right wall, and you hum to yourself with curiosity as you open the first door. You gawp at the huge ensuite, there’s a walk-in shower big enough for an orgy, with a bench built into the one wall. A rainfall shower head is fixed to the wall opposite the bench and a detachable showerhead hangs above the bench. 

“Shit, this is unreal.” 

You mutter to yourself as you note the freestanding modern tub in the centre of the room and the double marble countertop sink, all glossy creams and greys. You let out a low whistle as you re-enter the bedroom to open the other door. 

You laugh maniacally as you see a full walk-in wardrobe, with a display stand and shoe rack in the middle. You don’t think you even own enough clothes to fill the space. 

“I should have given up the lawyer gig sooner.” 

You busy yourself with unpacking and getting your filming setup working. Your tower PC and dual monitors set up like a gaming streamer, the perfect cover for any prying eyes. You stow away your box of props under the bed. Multiple masquerade masks, whips, flails, dildos and butt plugs of all shapes and sizes. 

Once you’re settled in, you take a few test videos, not happy with the way the light bleeds through the thin blinds. You make a note to add blackout curtains to the list of changes you want to make to the room. You weren’t planning on staying more than a few weeks, but something about the move, the fatigue of crossing the country to settle here in Texas makes you weary. You don’t want to have to move again so soon, so you might as well make the most of this new found opulence. 

And it doesn’t hurt that your stepdad is hot. 

The thought comes to you and you feel like you should be grossed out, or ashamed for thinking such things, but you realise it has the opposite effect. Thinking about Dave like that is taboo, forbidden, and that only makes it all that more arousing. 

~*~

Dave locks the door behind him as he retreats into the basement room he calls his office. The computer desk wedged against the wall to the right, his double bed freshly made from the morning. He strips off his dress shirt and slacks, pulling on an old green USMC hoodie and grey sweatpants. Your mother hates it when he dresses like this, calling it ghetto, or some other derogatory term. But she’s clearly out with her flavour of the month boytoy, Bryce. Dave knows that’s where she goes on nights like this. 

If it weren’t the need to keep his cover, he would have left her months ago. Now, he’s faced with the very obvious problem of you. 

He slumps down at his desk and turns on his VPN before logging in to his Cam Dolls account. His favourite streamer doesn’t go live on Fridays but he’s sure he can find someone else to scratch the itch. 

He’s three pages in, bored by the other prospects, about to give up and just watch standard porn on another site when the notification pops up much to his delight. 

Princess Luna has started a live stream. 

“Fucking A.” Dave grunts to himself as he shimmies down his sweatpants, already half-hard just at the thought of seeing Luna. But he’s left disappointed, the screen is blank as he clicks through onto the stream. 

Other men, he guesses they’re all men, are bombarding the comments on the stream with angry little messages. 

Badboy78!:  Cockteasing whore, where are you? 

GoliathBalls: So what, you just milking us for cash without even showing your tits? Lame. 

RedMask$2: Come on Luna, get that pretty little cunt out to play. 

The messages keep coming as Luna’s voice lilts through Dave’s speakers and he groans as he squeezes his foreskin over his weeping tip at the sound. 

“Aww boys I’m sorry, I’m having some technical difficulties tonight, but I was just way too horny not to come online and speak with my favourite boys.” 

Luna takes the whole thing in her stride, her sultry purr seemingly disaffected by the abusive comments. 

But it makes Dave furious, he hates the entitlement of the bastards that frequent this site. He pauses in his ministrations on his cock to click through the tip interface. Usually, he keeps it to a modest fifty dollars, enough to be generous but not feel like he’s buying Princess Luna’s attention. It’s delusional he knows, but he usually wants to keep some illusion of decency about his consumption of her work. 

Anonymous user left a tip. 

Flashes up in the chat box as an excited squeal plays through the speakers and Dave’s cock twitches at the sound of Luna’s exclamation. 

“Which one of you boys was so kind as to leave such a generous tip? Don’t be shy, I won’t bite, unless you want me to.” 

Dave remains silent as the desperate men in the comments clamber over one another to claim the tip. The schadenfreude of it all only brings Dave closer to the edge as he starts jacking off in earnest. Thinking about being cuckolded by your mother with that pathetic waif of a man Bryce. 

“Oh baby I’m going to treat myself to something pretty to wear for you, whoever you are, thank you so much.” 

Soft huffs echo through the speakers as Luna starts to put on a show, there’s something intimate about it that has Dave flustered. 

“Touching my little pussy thinking about you baby, rolling my aching clit between my fingers as I imagine you here with me.” 

“Yeah, fuck yeah that’s it.” Dave grunts under his breath as he closes his eyes, the sound of wet squelching as Luna fingers herself echoing around the room. He’s incensed, uncaring about how the sound might carry if you happened to step out of your room. 

Little does he know there’s no risk of that at all. You’re spread across the foot of your bed, fucking yourself with your fingers as you make sure your microphone is positioned just right so your lewd, wet sounds are broadcast over the stream. 

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come, wishing you were here, wishing it were your thick meaty fingers stuffed up in my pretty little pussy.”  

“Same baby, wanna treat you right, fuck my come deep inside you until it spills out.” Dave whispers as he feels his balls tighten, he’s going to come any second. 

“Yes, that’s it, daddy yes!” 

Dave practically roars as the word daddy spills from Luna’s lips, he comes in thick, milky ropes across his fist as he breathes heavily through his nose. His hoodie is covered in it and he huffs out a short chuckle as he hears Luna whine and moan as her release finds her. 

“Thanks boys, that was exactly what I needed, I’ll see you on Sunday.” 

The stream ends and Dave sits there with a pleased grin on his face as he feels his spend cooling on his hand. His mind drifts to you, and how the little gasp you made in the car won’t stop playing on repeat in his mind. 

This could be a problem.

He thinks to himself as his dick twitches at the memory, already getting hard again at just the thought of you.

A real fucking problem. 

He reiterates as he coaxes his cock back up with his come smeared fist before imagining you bouncing on his lap. 

~*~

You roll awake with a sated smile on your lips, you’d kept going after the stream ended, making yourself come all over your sheets until you whimpered and trembled from overstimulation. You may have even breathed Dave’s name a few times, but you won’t admit that to yourself, not in the bright light of day in Southern Texas. 

You take a long shower, making sure to scrub all evidence of your marathon orgasm session from your body before lathering copious amounts of expensive coconut body butter over your skin and fixing your hair up and out of the way. 

You pick up your purse and make sure you have everything you need before practically skipping down the stairs. 

“Morning.” 

You yelp as you round the corner into the kitchen to see Dave reading a newspaper, coffee in one hand and fork in the other as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. He looks glorious and you try and ignore the painful ache that rocks through your core. He’s in a navy blue hoodie with bold white lettering spelling out “USMC” on it. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal a simple silver watch and his tan forearms. 

There’s a plate of eggs and bacon, as well as a pot of coffee and a white mug placed opposite him on the breakfast island. There’s sugar, honey, and milk set to the side and you feel heat bloom in your chest from the thoughtfulness he’d shown. 

“Morning, mom not home yet?” 

You ask as you round to sit, you pour the coffee, adding nothing to it and you groan as the rich liquid coats your tongue. You note the small twitch of Dave’s lips as he silently approves of how you take your coffee.  

“Nah she’ll probably be out tonight too.” 

You tilt your head as you chew your food slowly, trying to decipher the look on Dave’s face. It’s closed off, but not cold, like he’s hiding something. But you don’t press, it’s none of your damn business. 

“I see, was hoping to borrow her car.” 

You drain your coffee before filling it up again, gesturing with the pot to ask Dave if he wants a refill. He nods and pushes his mug over for you to reach. It’s oddly domestic but natural as you play house with your stepdad. 

“Can borrow mine, I’m going to be home all day so don’t need it.” 

Your eyes go wide as your mouth hangs open at the offer. Excitement humming through your veins at the prospect of driving the Mustang. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just don’t wrap her round a tree, but I bet you can handle her.” 

“I’ll be good to her, I promise!” 

You down the rest of your coffee just in time for Dave to throw the key fob at you. You catch it with ease and grin at him. 

“Alright, I’ll be back just after noon, you want me to pick up anything for lunch?” 

“Sure, surprise me.” 

You get up from the stool and clear the plates, loading up the dish washer as you hum happily to yourself. You’re about to head out when Dave calls your name over your shoulder. 

“Oh no vegan food, I ain’t no rabbit.” 

“Alright Dave, your secret’s safe with me.” You roll your eyes at him playfully before heading out, extensive shopping list in hand as you finally feel some optimism for staying here. You text your mom before pulling out of the garage. You don’t expect a response for some time, seeing as she hadn’t bothered to even check you made it to Dave’s house, her house, in one piece. 

You roar down the drive, giving it some gas as you turn onto the main street. You panic for a second as the back end flies out, but you correct the steering with ease and the grin plastered on your face makes your cheeks burn. 

Little did you know Dave watched the whole thing, and his smile was a perfect mirror of your own. He leans against the sofa in the front room as you race off into the city, you really are going to be a problem, but if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t care. 

And that terrifies him. 

Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

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[lovelytsunoda]

how will I know? // marcus armstrong

summary: marcus has the hots for a barista at florida's trendiest cafe. it's not the pumpkin spice that keeps bringing him back. perhaps its the fact that he doesn't know how to ask her out that's holding him back.

pairing: marcus armstrong x barista! reader

warnings: pumpkin spice lattes, mid-season exams, i don't know jack shit about coffee so if the terminology doesn't make sense, don't sue me. Clement has no filter whatsoever.

how will I know if he really loves me? I say a prayer in every heartbeat! how will I know if he’s thinking of me? I’m asking you cause you know about things

florida is a vastly different place before eight in the morning. especially in the fall, trees dyed red and orange as nature takes it’s time ringing in the next phase.

marcus stopped, hands on his knees as he bent over to gasp for air. he never associated flordia with the cold, but when you grow up in christchurch, anything less than boiling is cold.

he took a deep breath, pushing up the sleeves of his athletic sweater and stretching his arms as he began to walk down the quiet street. the off season was no joke. sure, he’s fucked around for a few weeks with some of the old ferrari boys, but now he finally had a chance to make something of himself.

to be a household name.

which meant that despite the outside temperature and the lack of desire tk do much, he needed to keep up the routine. the routine would keep him sane, keep him in fighting condition.

but first, he needed coffee. and indoor heating.

he pushed into the coffee shop on the corner, a quiet yet cozy set up with blown glass pumpkins on the shelves behind the counter, a garland of fake fall leaves strung up around the point-of-sale terminal. lo-fi covers of eighties arena rock played in the background, a tinny rendition inf of Springsteens ‘dancing in the dark’ echoing throughout the empty space.

empty except for one person.

at a table in the back corner, a petite woman of about twenty one sat cross legged, earbuds in and staring at a laptop as she hopped her head to whatever she was listening to and scribbled a few things down on her notebook page.

she sang under her breath as she bopped her head, and marcus could hear the fluctuating notes of “you sexy thing” clashing with the overhead music.

there was something about the care-free nature of her own little world that marcus found very endearing.

sliding a hand into his pants pockets, he turned back to the counter, tapping the bell on the counter to call for a barista.

at the sound, the girl in the corner jumped, apple earbuds falling out of her ears as she stumbled over the kanken backpack on the floor.

“fuck, give me just a second! sorry, we usually don’t get any traffic before eight in the morning.” she groaned, heading towards the counter, cuffs of her oversized jeans dragging on the floor. “it’s mid term season, you know how it is.”

“I don’t, actually.” marcus shrugged “I never went to university.”

the girl laughed, slipping behind the counter. “count yourself lucky. this is hell.” she took a breath, tying her hair in a loose ponytail behind her head. “what can I get you?”

“do you have just, normal coffees?” marcus chuckled, looking at the chalkboard menu on the wall. “something that my trainer won’t kill me for drinking?”

the girl behind the counter laughed, placing a hand over her heart. “someone under the age of thirty drinks normal coffee?”

“such is the life of a professional athlete.”

she smiled softly at him, and he felt his stomach churn as she tapped the tablet screen.

she was so pretty, in such a subtle, ordinary way. the kind that took no effort.

“espresso, latte, or americano?”

marcus placed his order, tapping his black amex card against the machine as she turned around to grab a paper coffee cup, a blue sharpie peeking out over her back pocket. she uncapped the marker, leaning over the counter and resting her elbows against the laminate.

“can I get a name for that?”

“that depends,” marcus grinned, mimicking her pose. his face was so close to her that she could have kissed him if she leaned a little closer. “can I get yours?”

“y/n.” she flushed, blush spreading across her cheeks.

“I’m marcus. nice to meet you, y/n.”

every morning after that, it was like there was an invisible string that kept dragging marcus back. he couldn't explain what pull that the small boutique cafe had, but every morning, like clockwork, he was slipping into the small store, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl who had first caught his eye, sitting curled up in her small corner of the white marble space.

by the second day, he had worked up the courage to ask what she was studying. by the third day, she had memorized his order (americano with cream and cold foam) and by the fourth day, he was coming in early to help her use her study flash cards.

despite herself, y/n found herself longing for the kiwi, the mysterious athlete that had slipped so easily into her life despite it all, despite the obligations that she was sure had to things that weren't her.

it all felt too good to be true.

and you know what, one morning he never came in, and she felt her heart sink, even though there was no reason for it. it's not like he was her lover. he was just another customer.

one she had grown attached to.

of course, marcus had a good reason for not coming in that morning. he knew it was the day before her exam, and he wanted more than anything to be there and help her make sure she was ready. instead, he found himself at the airport, waiting for two different flights to land: james from new zealand, and clement from... well, he didn't actually know where clement was flying in from. sometimes, when it came to the eccentric frenchman, it was better not to ask. and

because he was such a good fucking friend, he was waiting in the arrivals line at the asscrack of dawn instead of ordering coffee. and once his friends had piled into the car, squishing suitcases and duffle bags into the sad excuse of a trunk, he got it into his head that he was going to go straight to the coffee shop.

"mate, you missed the turn to your house." clement frowned, tapping on the window. "where are you taking us?"

james smiled to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow. "he's taking us to see coffee shop girl."

"oh, shit. are you finally going to tell her you love her?"

"oh, fuck you both." marcus groaned, pulling into a parking space in front of the small shop, aptly named 'what's the tea?. "i'm not 'in love', but i want to know her better. she has a big exam tomorrow, and you guys know i've been helping her study, so i just want to make sure she feels okay about it."

clement snorted, sharing a look with james.

"simp." both men said at the same time, laughing hysterically as marcus stepped out of the car, flashing his middle finger at his comrades before he went inside.

when they were done laughing, clement and james followed him inside, greeted by a lo-fi version of 'you shook me all night long'. the cafe was busier than marcus had ever seen it, and there were three different girls working behind the counter today, the tables almost full. he spied y/n's backpack at a corner booth, tucked safely into the corner.

but there was no sign of y/n.

he waited in the line, james and clem behind him, and when he reached the counter, he couldn't hide his disappointment that she hadn't come to ask if he still wanted his usual order.

"what can i get you?" athena, the woman behind the counter asked him.

"hi, is y/n working today?"

athena grinned, leaning against the counter. "you're runner boy, aren't you?"

"he calls her coffee shop girl! they're made for each other!" clem shouted with a laugh, earning a small slap to the chest from james.

"she's in the back, she stepped out to take a break. today has been rough on her." athena smiles softly, stepping back. "i'll go get her for you."

he peeled away from the line, hands tapping his sides nervously as he watched athena duck into the back room. james clapped him in the shoulders, attempting to talk up his longtime friend.

when the door to the back room opened, and y/n emerged from the small break space, his heart stopped. her eyes were rimmed in red, as if she had been crying. her hair was loosely pinned back in a plastic clip, a minuscule droplet of water on her glasses.

and as soon as she saw him, she couldn’t help but smile.

“you came. I missed you this morning.” she said softly, making her way towards him, hands shyly hidden in the sleeves of her sweater.

marcus chuckled, gesturing towards clem and james. “yeah, I had to go pick up these two wankers from the airport.”

almost as if they had heard, both men turned towards the couple, waving their arms madly.

“he wants to jump your bones!” clement shouts before taking a sip of his fancy matcha drink, seductively winking at a blonde behind the bar

“please, pay them no mind.” marcus sighs as y/n starts to laugh. “I’ve known them since I was like, twelve. theyre harmless, just taking the piss.”

“don’t worry about it.” she smiles, brushing an errant strand of hair. “I think it’s charming.”

“your civil lit exam is tomorrow, right? how are you feeling?”

she exhaled, slipping both hands into her back pockets. “overwhelmed. but I think I can do it. i can definitely pass, just not sure by how much.”

feeling james and clems eyes boring into the back of his head, marcus took a deep breath, wringing his hands together. “hey, after your exam, maybe when your life has calmed down a little bit, do you want to grab a drink?”

she beamed, blushing pink as she reached for a cardboard heat sleeve, scribbling her number down on it. “yeah, I’d love that. do you want w coffee? the usual?”

she slipped the sleeve with her number on it onto the cup, her hand lingering over marcus’ as she passed him the cup.

when he went back to his friends, james and clem took one look at the scribbled digits on the side of the cup and burst out into cheers.

as they left the shop, he turned back, stealing a look at y/n as she slipped behind the bakery case. when she saw him, she gave him a smile, and a gentle wave.

and marcus waved back. maybe moving to florida wasn’t a bad thing after all.

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @clemswrld @libraryofloveletters @scuderiamh @lorarri @cartierre @diorleclerc

#the cozy collection 2023 #marcus armstrong #marcus armstrong x reader #indycar #indycar x reader #formula two x reader #indycar rpf #indycar imagine #formula 2 #Spotify #lovelytsunodas eclectic music taste

[lucydoodlessometimes]

the Lunar secret weapon and the King's best kept secret, one Carswell Thorne!

Cinder | Kai | Cress | Scarlet | Ze'ev | Jacin | Winter

original au

Au-specific character info under the cut

Thorne knows his full name here, which means he could track down his birth records and thus parents- if he wasn't convinced there was no point, as they voluntarily submitted him to die. so.

He braids his hair in much the same way that cress wraps hers around her wrists as stress relief. I didn't find a good way to draw it, but its there.

Thorne is more unsure than in canon in this au, but he is very interested in making cool romantic moments (as opposed to Cress, who was very interested in having them but rarely tried to make them.)

he has a little Thorne! just as eager and cheerful as little cress, but a bit more utility-focused. He quickly got bored of the background work slog, even as a child, and thus programmed little thorne to take over lots of the early searching, filtering, and sourcing of the research Sybil often asks for.

the haircut cress gives him post-satellite is, admittedly, rather good for a newly blind woman.

However, if you have functioning eyes, you can probably tell that it is godawful.

Fortunately, Cress also manages to pick up an escort body for Nansi, who delights in fixing it for him.

(on that note, I think I might change up her look from Iko's even though it doesn't really make a ton of sense? mostly because I want to. Talk me out of it in the tags)

Thorne gives Cress her eyedrops and is very extra special careful about it because he doesn't wanna mess up this thing he's got going on in her direction. He's worried about her!

I made a pass at a butterfly outfit here- I confess, I'm very excited for the blue "dress"

(I may or may not let it be a dress, I think that futuristic sci fi can accommodate a man in a dress so it's really just whatever I wanna draw that day and whatever i think he looks good in)

either way, i let the butterfly sleeves instead take on a capeish feel, as I don't think the draping feel works as well on this kind of jacket. Future changes may occur!

His satellite outfit was kind of meant to give this yucky hospital gown feel, as I imagine Sybil to be rather,,,,, uninterested in the fashion of her little tool.

That's all I got! hope you enjoyed and feel free to add on <3333

#lucy doodles #my art #my headcanons #i suppose? #never thought I'd tag that on my art blog #but I dont exactly have a better place to put them lmao #lunar chronicles #carswell thorne #cress darnel #tlc thorne #the lunar chronicles #marissa meyer #reverse au #i should make up a funny name for this au #reference sheet #my fanart #fanart #lunar chronicles fanart #i am Aware Thorne has blue eyes however I do not want to draw him like that so I don't. I'll get back to you on that #after ive drawn the rest of the cast #and have a better scope for what details I want represented in the group at large

[mockerycrow]

Hii here's my request if you'd like to write it; Adler x femreader w/ "I had a nightmare...can I stay with you tonight?" Thankss <3

DREAM OR REALITY? (Adler x Fem!Bell!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note: i couldn’t resist.

[WARNINGS: Black Ops Cold War Spoilers, very slight Mentions of Torture, nightmares, minor paranoia, toxic little hurt/comfort.]

YOU WAKE UP in a cold sweat, your heart pounding against your rib cage and with a voice in the back of your mind. You’re trembling as you can’t make any sense of what the voice is saying, and soon the sound of your blood rushing in your ears overtakes the incoherent voice.

You rub your eyes to ground yourself before you glance around, noting you’re still in the warehouse. You look at your watch, groaning quietly as you realize it’s quite early in the morning. Your chest feels quite heavy, and you have an odd craving for a cigarette when you don’t remember ever picking the habit up.

It’s one of those nights; you can tell you aren’t going to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. Adler and the others wanted you to stay in the warehouse just in case you were able to decrypt any more information; you had no problem with that, as mostly everyone else also slept in the warehouse, although in different areas. Unfortunately though, your makeshift sleeping cot is not too comfortable, so you have an ache in your neck along with stirring anxiety from your nightmare. 

You push the cheap blanket off of yourself and you adjust your sleeves before swinging your legs over the side of the cot. You slip your boots on and lace them up, letting out a heavy sigh as you do so. A nervous energy remains under your skin, like you’re being watched. You know you aren’t—or do you?— but you shudder nonetheless. You grab your leather jacket, sliding it on before you exit the room you’ve been sleeping in for the past couple of days. The common area is clear except for Helen by the radios with her headphones, trying to make out Russian messages.

You rub your sternum before exiting the warehouse right in front of the garage door, the cool nighttime air filling your lungs. Goosebumps rise underneath your jacket for a moment from the fresh sensation, and you’re so caught up in your own mind you don’t even notice the man standing a few feet away. “What’re you doin’ up?” You jolt at the sound of someone’s voice and you look over, locking eyes with Adler. Lacking his usual sunglasses, his eyebrows are more visible and furrowed. A half smoked cigarette is between his fingers like usual, and he takes a drag from it.

You let out a breath and you shrug, stuffing your hands into the back pockets of your jeans, shifting your weight as you glance away. “Couldn’t sleep.” You utter. You technically aren’t lying, though you didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep. Adler doesn’t respond as he tucks a hand under his other arm as he takes another drag off of his cigarette, shifting slightly closer to you. Your eyes train on some bugs flying around under the big light overhead for a moment, the silence being filled with crickets. 

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Adler hums, his eyes never leaving your form. He notes the way you’re reluctant to share anything, your conflicted and far away gaze; he’s already thinking you’ve had a nightmare. “What was it about?”

Your gaze moves from the bugs to him—his stare feels like he sees all of you, your bare soul; your skin and bones and every sin you’ve ever committed. Adler’s gaze has always felt like that and you’ve never known what to make of it. He’s so.. vague yet so on the dot every time he talks to you, so friendly yet so cruel. You aren’t sure if you should say anything. “Bell.” You feel a nudge against your arm and you blink for a moment before looking back at Adler, your hearing returning—you aren’t sure when it left.

“I just.. I had a nightmare.” You admit with a weak laugh, looking away nervously as your hands fidget in the back pockets of your jeans. Your weight shifts as silence fills the air between you two and you kind of want to reach over to strangle him a bit—you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I couldn’t make any sense of it, honestly. It was a weird horrid mixture of Vietnam and.. this room. Televisions.. hm. I don’t know.” You mumble, trailing off before you look back at him. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

There’s an unreadable look in Adler’s eyes as he drops his cigarette, stepping on it and squashing it to put it out. It takes him a moment before he nods. “Sure, Bell. You can stay with me. We can go over some files, yeah? Take your mind off of it, since we have a job to do.”

A weird sense of calm washes over you from his words and you nod, letting out a relieved breath. “Yeah, we can do that.”

#call of duty #cod #bocw #cod bocw #russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #russell adler x fem!reader #russell adler x bell!reader #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #black ops cw #crow’s 4k celebration #call of duty: cold war #call of duty black ops cold war #adler x reader #adler x bell #cod russell adler #russell adler cod

[natade-art]

ok so you know how months ago i posted headshots of my trio and said i had finished i had them all. well i was wrong. but this time im right i promise 

ID: pencil sketches colored digitally, a lineup of Link, (a younger) Ganon and Zelda (with Fi behind her), or at least my designs for my LoZ au. Fi looks slightly different, mostly in that her “arms” are more like feathery wings. Zelda has the Master Sword at her waist, and Ganon and Link both have strong blue accents in their outfits to match her. Long in depth descriptions of their outfits are below the cut. end ID

I really want to go into all their designs because I’ve put sooo much time into them but do not want that long post cut off again for just one image...

LINK: is the shortest, freckled, with sharp eyes and light brown hair that is longer but similar to the style of Skyward Sword Link. His tunic has long sleeves rolled up the elbow, with white embroidered accents showing leaves and a fairy. He has a long blue scarf with white stripes, and wears a black obi with a flute tucked haphazardly in, under a thick leather belt, from which hangs a pouch for an ocarina. His fingerless gloves and boots match, the same brown leather as his belt but with the tops rolled down to reveal lighter, orange-y leather and stitched hems. The boots toes are enforced with metal, and the same leaf pattern on his tunic runs up the front of the boot. The right knee of his pants has a patch. A slit on the side of his tunic’s skirt reveals chainmail, and of course he has small blue hoop earrings, with no visible gold or triangular motifs. Biggest inspirations: Link to the Past Link illustration where all he’s wearing all his items, and TP Link.

GANON: is the tallest, with his trademark gold eyes and fiery hair, which falls in spikes around his face, one long segment of hair over each shoulder, ending in golden triangle accessories. He wears a high-collared off-white tunic with bishop sleeves, hemmed with a dark pink geometric pattern. Over this he wears a very dark blue sleeveless a-line silhouette coat with golden accents and buttons. His belt is blue and wraps around his waist twice, with a pouch on his hip. On the other side hangs a pendant which is hardly visible but matches the one on Zelda’s top (it was once hers - his original pendant matched the accessories in his hair, and he gave it to Link as a good luck charm. Link, in turn, gave Zelda her bracelet.) He has blue leg warmers and black pointy-toed boots. The pencil lines show a backpack and the mark of the Triforce on his hand. The goal is fancy but not overly so, still practical and cozy. Biggest inspirations: variety of academic-type NPCs though the series (ex: Owlan, several guys I ran into frequently in BOTW) and Koume & Kotake.

ZELDA: is the only one here who I drew knowing she would be in this lineup, and so her pose and lines are more intentional. She has blunt bangs and equally blunt hair cut above her shoulders, plus the Toon Zelda zig-zag locks framing her face. Her earrings are large but simple gold triangles. She wears a sleeveless white shirt under an off-the-shoulder blue top with a circular cutout in the middle of the chest, just under the neckline which is held together with a gold pendant. The pendant is a circle with small stylized wings (echoed in the pattern on her top) with a red gem in the center and a red tassel hanging down, matching the tassel she has attached to the Master Sword’s hilt. She wears a black underbust corset with tails in the front and back, gold accessories at the ends. Her flared pants have white stripes near the bottom similar to the stripes on several Zelda’s dresses, and her leather boots have golden soles. She wears a green bracelet on her right wrist, along with nearly a full arm of golden armor, green and black painted detail, on her left. Biggest inspirations: idk she just happened <3 Skyward Sword Zelda concept art

#legend of zelda #zelda #link #ganon #young ganon #legend of zelda au #fi #will probably replace ganons pink pattern w the gerudo one we all know eventually #this took a very long time to type up. hope someone appreciates it #link was hard bc i had so many thoughts i wanted to include... #ganon was hard bc being young and not evil and not a tank kind of fighter he was too different from like. every real ganon. #and like all other gerudo design is just orientalism #zelda was easy. my angel <3 ive always been happy with her #character design

[bluebellhairpin]

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Summary; Together with the Company you fight the dragon Smaug. Yet you and Thorin have never felt more apart.

Warnings; Thorin has the dragon-sickness and get's physically aggressive. Depictions of nightmares/sickness. Blood and injury. Reader is female-body-coded, uses she/her pronouns, and is Human.

Listening to; 'We All Lift Together' by by Freya Catherine + Jack Victor - "Strong, united, working 'till we fall and we all lift, and we're all adrift together."

Part 11 || Part 13

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

You knew you were in deep trouble. There was nothing you could do in that moment to shake the chill that pierced straight through your heart. 

“You have no idea who you are.” 

That was what Smaug said, but despite the startled and frightened frown on your face, you stood tall. You spoke even though your voice betrayed you and cracked under the pressure of being so close to a dragon that you could feel its breath on your cheeks. 

“I know exactly who I am,” you said, inching your hand with your sword up higher, “I am one of Thorin Oakensheild’s Company. That ought to tell you who I am, for they are my family." 

“So then you have come to steal from me. I almost want to give it to you.” Smaug said, eyeing the glowing Arkenstone. Your eyes darted to the gem, before you fixed firmly on the dragon. Bilbo would sort out the stone, of that you were sure, but the dragon - you could do little, but you would make sure not to get caught off-guard. “Oakenshield will suffer for it. It would bring so much joy to watch it destroy him. For it to corrupt his heart and push you all away. To drive him mad like his grandfather before him. But,”

Smaug fixed his eyes on you and Bilbo, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You were in danger. 

“I think not.” The dragon moved fast, making out to bite you both into his jaws in one fell swoop, but you’d moved away just in time. Then he reared back again, and fire grew in his chest. A burning heat starting in your own lungs, making it harder to run atop the coin under foot. 

Shielding yourselves in a hall to avoid the dragon’s fire, you pushed back against the stone with fear heavy in your chest. You'd awakened the dragon, and you'd angered it. Somehow you felt you should’ve known it was going to happen - surely this was what your dreams were telling you. The fire and death and destruction - they were all a warning, one you didn’t heed because you didn’t know it was there. 

And the things he said about you and your mother? That wasn't anything like you were expecting. You couldn’t remember a darkness like this in your mother. You couldn’t remember a time it could’ve taken her - perhaps not your own fault, you couldn’t remember a lot about your life before, but somehow you still knew. Even still, if the darkness took her, it didn’t matter. 

You were not your mother, and you knew you never would be. 

Bilbo tugged at the sleeve of your tunic, trying to usher you both away from danger. You followed, chest heaving and with sweat beading on your forehead - was it always this hot in here? 

Ahead of you, Thorin appeared, and Bilbo went up to greet him. His eyes didn’t say long on the Hobbit. 

“You’re alive,” he said, clarity shining in his blue eyes before it seemed to cloud again at the sight of the treasure behind you. His face turned back to Bilbo. “Did you bring the Arkenstone?” He was curt, straight to the point, and you didn't like it. He was acting towards you like the Dwarf you met all those months ago in the Shire. He wasn't your Thorin anymore - he wasn’t the person who warmed to you enough to tell you about the glory of Erebor while locked in cells of dirt and stone. “The Arkenstone. Did you find it?” he asked again, ignoring Bilbo’s talk of danger. But Bilbo said nothing, and neither did you. 

“We have to get out of here.” Bilbo said, trying to step forwards past Thorin, but was stopped by a blade at his chest. Thorin moved, pushing Bilbo towards the edge of the staircase with the sharp tip of his sword. Immediately you took a step closer. 

“Thorin,” you said, voice set in a tone of warning as your own grip tightened on your own sword. One look from Thorin made you stop. It told you if you moved closer he'd put the sword on you instead. He wasn’t trusting Bilbo, but right now he would still hurt you if you got in his way. It was the Hobbit or the gem. 

This truly was not your Thorin. 

The rattle of coins in the distance made you turn around. You spotted Smaug coming, he’d heard you, smelt you - it didn’t really matter how he knew where you were because he did. 

You repeated Thorin’s name again, this time softer, more desperate and more frightened. He turned to where you were looking and from the clarity that reclaimed his eyes it was the shock he needed to regain his head. 

The sword lowered, and Bilbo almost tripped over himself getting back behind Thorin. He gestured for you to do the same, to find safely behind him in the smaller halls the dragon would not fit in. Then he too backed away with you both behind him. 

“We need to go.” Bilbo puffed - but you saw Thorin had not yet looked away from Smaug, a dangerous thing for now the dragon knew exactly where you were. 

“You will burn!”

After that, the rest of the Company seemed to materialize out of thin air, now you all were running for your lives dodging dragon fire, and hiding from the dragon itself. 

“This was a bad idea!" 

"Shut up, keep running!" 

You tried your best to ignore everyone and their constant complaints, but it was easier to listen to them than to spend all your brain-power worrying about the pain in your chest that made it hard to breathe. It was like someone had scratched your throat raw and then poured lemon juice down it. It made your eyes water, and your voice came out raspy whenever you spoke. 

No matter what you did, where you ran, you always had to keep something between yourselves and the dragon - pillars, walls of coins, anything - but nothing stopped the dragon fire nipping at your heels. At that point your brain shut off, you were just following where the Company led and prayed to whoever was listening that you’d make it to the end of the night alive. 

The Company ran into a cornered off room, with you following just behind on their tail. Thorin pulled you into the hall after him just as Smaug rounded a corner with a hot breath of fire, and used himself as your shield. You both stumbled forward, you with your mouth open - partially in shocked horror at the fact Thorin was literally on fire, and partially because your mouth felt too dry to close. 

You watched as he fell to the floor and shed the flaming coat before standing and ushering everyone to the opposite side of the room where more corridors were waiting. It was like he wasn’t just on fire. You wondered how he could shake that off so fast, and if such composure was expected of you. 

Despite that, the dragon seemed to have been lost. Everyone was as silent as they ever had been as you walked through the empty halls. The group came to a stop, weary of where Smaug was since he couldn’t be heard anywhere. Some thought the dragon had lost them, others - the more sensible and older ones - knew he was still close, and still searching. You knew from how your hair had yet to stop standing on end that Smaug was still hunting you. It made your stomach ache. 

“Where do we go?” Bilbo asked, quietly looking at Thorin and you. 

“A way out,” Thorin said, “The Western Guardroom.” He looked back at the Company after he spoke, and you saw his eyes rest on you - the crease in his brow deepened ever so slightly, yet he allowed himself to become distracted away from you. 

“There’s no chance that way,” Balin said, stepping forward, “It’s too high.”

“It’s our only chance.” 

"Thorin -" you started, stepping forward to protest - something was telling you Balin has sense in his words. Thorin looked at you, shaking his head. 

“You know we must try.” He said. You nodded your head, shoulders slumping in defeat. The group moved, quick to leave a space so open and exposed, but you lingered, watching as others passed by. Dwalin, however, took notice, and stuck with you as you followed behind the pack. 

“We all know what you’re here for,” he started quietly, intent on making this conversation one between just you two. “Whatever you need to do, whenever you need to do it, I’ll help. It will be for the best.” He took hold of your forearm as you walked, and with a smile you pet it as a signal to let go. 

“Thank you, but you need to do as Thorin asks.” Dwalin looked up at you, watching your face, and spoke again. 

“You are the future Queen, your voice deserves to be heard as much as Thorin’s.” 

It struck you a little, as you processed Dwalin’s words, the situation you’d found yourself in over the course of this journey. You were courting Thorin, King Under the Mountain. The hair bead that beat against your shoulder as you walked proved it. Even though he was acting less than a King in that moment he was still - in all the ways you knew - yours. Just as you were his. 

But, as you watched Thorin lead the Company along stone walkways and past pillars, you wondered just how exactly he felt about that now. 

“I’m no Queen yet, Dwalin.” you said, and so your conversation lulled into silence, yet Dwalin didn’t leave your side. 

The Company reached a bridge, and as they cautiously crossed, a coin fell. It clanged to the floor near Bilbo, and while others all looked towards the small drop of gold on the stone, you looked up. Your jaw dropped open, and your breath caught in your throat. Others followed your gaze, and you pushed Nori’s shoulder lightly to keep him moving, unknowingly mirroring Thorin who was doing the same to those further ahead. 

Above you was Smaug - he looked big, you knew that, and although you’d been under him before now seemed different. You didn’t care about being found then - however now you couldn’t think of anything worse. 

Luckily the guardroom was close by. Thorin led everyone inside, and they moved quickly. You loitered near the doorway - while everyone else inspected the room, you were still on edge about that dragon. You’d hate to be caught in here, so close to being able to leave. You were determined to listen as little as possible, an attempt to not add anymore reason to be anxious - however a strong hand on your upper arm pulled you away from that goal, and into the room. 

Over Thorin’s head you finally caught sight of a hoard of Dwarven corpses stacked upon the place where a way out was supposed to be - remnants of a past group who sought a way out here too, and failed. 

“Where is the exit?” Thorin said. He sounded upset, and you didn’t like how close he was standing to you when his eyes looked like that. As his words rang in your ear, you frowned.

“What?” you asked, voice hardly above a whisper, “Thorin you know I don’t know -”

“Tell me!” he yelled, hands holding tight to your shoulders. In front of you Thorin was staring at you intensely. Blinking, you realised this was what you’d been warned about - what he had been warned about - the dragon sickness. 

Thorin wasn’t okay, and really neither were you. Across the room, every member of the Company was ready to intervene. Especially Dwalin, and even Bilbo. 

“Just tell me!” He said again, and lifted your shoulders off the wall you’d backed into. With a shove, your back hit the wall with force, knocking the breath from your lungs with an unsettling uplift of dust, and a crack as your head hit a piece of decoration. 

Before anyone could step in, a growl grew in the back of your throat - but the noise, rather than coming from you, echoed in from the hall outside. As if snapped out of a trance, Thorin backed off and addressed the Company. Acting like a good proper leader, acting as if you never existed in the first place. 

“Head to the forges. Split up. We’re killing that dragon.” he said. 

“We won’t make it,” Blain said, eyeing you as you rubbed the parts of your arms Thorin held (that hurt more than anything else, his touch seemed to burn hotter than any pain given by a stone wall). 

“If this is to end in fire,” Thorin started, turning back to you, catching your eyes, “Then we all burn together.” He moved off, and you watched as Golin and Bilbo followed with a reluctant glance towards you. 

“What do we do?” Ori asked, standing by your side timidly as you rolled your shoulder under your palm. 

“Do as Thorin says.” you started, sounding weak as you stared off where Thorin disappeared. 

“He isn’t in the right mind.” Balin said. 

“No,” you said, “He still has a good head on his shoulders, but his heart isn't in the right place.” 

“He hurt you -” Dwalin replied. 

“He is sick, you cannot see that?” you said, gesturing towards the hall outside, before sighing deep. “Perhaps you are right, but that is not up for debate now. The dragon is a big issue, one we need to deal with. We do as Thorin says. Split up, and distract the dragon to give others enough time to light the forge.” 

So, then, after word from you, the rest of the Company moved to action - some, such as Ori and Dori, only went after triple checking you were really okay. Physically you were doing fine - burning lungs aside - however the idea Thorin would lay a hand on you did shake you. But as you said, deal with the dragon first. 

You split off with Dwalin and Nori, calling Smaug’s attention towards you when he became too close to Ori’s trio. 

“Hey you, lizard!” Smaug turned abruptly, breathing a puff of smoke out his nose. “Yeah you, you cold-blooded coward!” you yelled again, nudging Nori so they'd move out of the way faster than the dragon approached. 

As Smaug’s claw clipped at your heels, you realized what sort of mistake you’d just made - namely biting off more than you could chew in terms of mockery. You fell, and rolled to a stop beside a column. 

“You think you can run?” Smaug said, red hot heat swelling in his chest once more and you felt a bead of sweat roll down your neck and under your tunic, “You think you can hide? I’ll take you one by one if I must!” 

Then Smaug let out fire all over where you were standing, and you could do nothing except tuck yourself further behind the column of stone. It did nothing to protect you from the heat, it seemed to burn hotter than the very sun, but once the flames went away you weren’t hurt. Thank goodness for Dwarven stone architecture. Even so, you barely let out a breath of relief until Smaug moved away and everything went quiet. 

Once you emerged from the pillar, it wasn’t just Smaug who had gone. Everyone had. There wasn’t another soul to be heard. The noise from them echoed into where you stood, telling you that the dragon marched elsewhere, and yet you were alone. Really you couldn’t really blame everyone for running while the dragon was distracted - you only hoped they realized you were still alive. 

You ran across a bridge and into the adjacent tunnel, following the noise towards where it sounded like the forges were.

Then your foot slipped on a step that was too-damp, and you fell to the ground with a loud thump.

Thorin stood just outside the forges, watching and waiting. 

He could feel the dragon's steps coming closer through the way the ground shook beneath him. The forges weren’t lit, they had been too cold for too long, and the best source of fire was coming straight to him. 

What he didn’t expect to see, however, was you. Even through the adrenaline of a fight Thorin could tell something wasn’t quite right with you. How long had you been like that? When did you start walking with a limp? When did you carry one arm like it weighed your whole body? Since when did your chest glow, and since when were your eyes red?

He watched, frozen in shock, as the dragon emerged behind you. You seemed unbothered and didn’t flinch, but he did. Smaug walked, pacing himself just behind you, and Thorin felt his blood run cold as both your head and the dragon’s tilted in the exact same uncanny way. But then, as the dragon’s chest glowed brighter, you lurched forward - pain strict across your face with your hand clutched to your chest. The glowing there and in your eyes flickered, and faded. 

Then you were on the ground, motionless, and the dragon charged at him. 

Thorin did not have a chance to check on you, not even if he felt like wanting to. Instead he ran, and for a while he would completely forget what happened to his One in that hallway outside the forges of Erebor.

You stood above Thorin, and he looked across at you with eyes that were cold and determined. You opened your mouth to speak yet the voice was not yours. 

“You will burn!” the voice said, but you did not want that. You weren’t against Thorin. You didn’t want him to burn. The entire reason you were here was to help him. 

He then spoke, instead now standing over you, with a sword pointed right between your eyes.

“Just tell me!” But that wasn’t right either. He wasn’t against you. He loved you. He was your One. Wasn’t he? 

Then it seemed like a thousand voices started speaking to you at once, all from everywhere in a black inky void. 

“- The Arkenstone. -”

“- Help him! -”

“- Stop! -”

“- Thorin. -”

“- Don’t leave! -”

No, no none of that was right at all. You didn’t like it one bit. You didn’t like any of these dreams. You had enough. 

You woke, jolting from your place on the cold stone to sit up. Your hand rested on your head, it ached from the sudden movement. You didn’t have to look to know that the warm liquid and partially dried flakes of blood you could feel on your head meant you knocked it on the way down. 

But what was that dream? More importantly, where were you? 

You shook yourself off, deciding to worry about the dream later, and body willing you’d do the same with your head. You needed to find the others. 

A quick swivel on your bum showed you the blazing light of the forges - answering where you were but not how you got there. But more importantly, aside from the hum of the Dwarven machines, all other noise had stopped. How long were you out for? Was the Company all alright? 

So you wandered, following your feet. They led you outside the main doors into Erebor and up a nearby hill. Under the cover of night, in the distance, you could see Laketown. Even from there, you could watch as it burnt under the dragon fire from above. 

“No.” You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “This can’t be right.” You wondered what you did wrong - you wondered why seeing the town burn in your dreams still meant that nothing you did was able to stop it. The innocent people there met with horrible fates - what did you lack of ability to stop that say for what else was to come? How could you save your friends when you weren’t able to save those who mattered less? 

“I thought you burned.” Nori said, turning away from the burning town to face you - someone untouched by the same flames. As he looked at you, so did a few others. Thorin was among them. His eyes stayed on yours as he walked closer. 

“There is no way you couldn’t have seen this,” he said, refusing to look away even as you shifted on your feet with watery eyes. “You lead us to this.” 

“What?” you snapped, “I would do no such thing -” 

“I saw you.” Thorin said. He stepped past you, “I saw how it moved, and I saw how you moved. There is no way this is not what you wanted.” 

You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. You stepped back, wiping at the blood on your forehead with your sleeve, and took in a deep shuddering breath as you shook your head. 

“Even if I knew what you were talking about, you wouldn't listen. I don’t think you ever do.” With that you took your leave, heading further up the mountain to watch Laketown burn. From here there was nothing else you could do. Even now, with much still weighing on your mind for the events to come, you barely believed to hope everything would turn out okay. 

Not anymore.

#the girl who knew the end #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit x reader #tolkien x reader #the hobbit x you

[deliciousangelfestival]

My Problematic Girl - Chapter 3

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Prologue:  Steve has lived being nobody in this prestigious university. He just wants to graduate and get a job to get more money to pay the bills for his mother's surgery. 

But his life turned upside when a new student attended his class. His quiet and dull life became dangerous and full of surprises.

×××

She exhaled the cigarette smoke from her lips. She still doesn’t care even though he told her he has asthma. 

She looked at Steve and said, “Bark for me.”

Steve felt humiliated, and his pride was crushed. But she held his life and secrets. He had to bury his dignity to the ground, and he murmured, 

“Woof.”

******

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. 

If you want to be tagged in this series, please tell me.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi

For a brief moment, he could understand what "happiness" means. His struggle to find a sponsor has been resolved. 

But when she mentioned that ID name, Steve felt naked.

His life is exposed to the whole world. His biggest fear has become a reality. Someone in the uni knew his secrets.

He grabbed Y/N's hand and dragged her until he found a quiet place. 

They weren't running, but Steve had to catch his breath. He felt suffocated. Like someone strangled his neck.

When he found a spot to talk, he released her hand. "Is this the reason why you ask me? What do you want?"

Y/N widened her eyes for a second; then, she chuckled again. "Turned out you can get angry too." 

Steve felt his head going to explode, "You…!!!"

She raises her arm to stop him. "If you think I want to blackmail you. You are partially correct."

Steve's trust in her crumbled, and he stepped away from her. He covered his face with both hands. "Are you going to tell the university?" 

Since she is close to Tony, there's a high chance she will tell him. 

Y/N was taken aback; she seemed offended. "Pfft, no. Why would I want to do that?"

Steve lifted his face; he became more confused. "So, what do you want from me?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Right now, nothing." 

She took out her phone and started texting. While she was looking at the screen, she said, "I will inform you when I find a perfect location for your exhibition."

She doesn't bother with the way Steve look at her. "Word of advice, don't be afraid when someone knows your secret. Ignored them."

Steve clenched his fist. "Seems like you have experienced."

Y/N smirked at him and left. She left him with many questions and doubts.

Back at his apartment, Steve threw his bag to the floor and threw himself to bed. He wished he could turn around time to the day, but Y/N came to the class and ignored her. 

But it's too late now. 

"Bzzt"

"Yoo punk."

Steve sighed heavily; at least today, he could hear a familiar voice.

"What is it, idiot? Did you get hit in the head today?"

"This kid. Don't you want your best friend to become a famous quarterback?"

Steve chuckled. He's talking with Bucky, who studies in other cities at Imperial University. It is also a prestigious university like Stark but is more competitive and has a strong alumnus of doctors, lawyers, and football players. 

Bucky got accepted because of his football scholarship. Both of them are only able to meet on holidays. 

"Hei Bucky."

"What? You sounded like you got hit by a bus."

"I prefer to get hit. Today I meet a b**h."

"Tell me!!!"

Steve sighed heavily; he couldn’t tell everything to Bucky. He only tells him there’s a new student, which gives him stress. 

“Hmm, she sounds like a person I know. Perhaps I’m wrong. Just be careful, Steve.” 

Yeah, he should be careful. He doesn’t know what Y/N has under her sleeves.

A few days later.

Y/N didn't come to the university. It's better that way because he doesn't know how to feel when he sees her, angry or awkward. 

But once again when Steve felt relieved for a moment. Something will come again to disturb his peace. 

'Vroom'

The engine's sounds were loud, taking every student's attention, including Steve, walking towards the gate to go home. 

It was a black sports car, and it stopped beside Steve. He finally knew who the owner was when the car window went down. 

It's Y/N. 

"Get in." 

Steve wants to ignore her but doesn't want to get into trouble and make her mad since she knows his secret. So he gets into the car. 

When he sat down, the smell of expensive leather made him feel rich. The dashboard design also has impressive craftsmanship. No wonder why people like to collect sports cars. It felt like collecting luxury toys. 

"Where are we going?" 

"To the location for your exhibition."

"Huh…"

(An example to show the space for Steve's art exhibition)

'She wasn't joking.'

Steve thought while he walked around the empty studio. This place is huge. It's bigger than his apartment.

"A famous photographer and other artists always rent this place." A property agent is talking with Y/N. He keeps talking about selling aspects to convince her. 

Y/N crossed her arms and nodded. "Send me the contract."

The agent was pleased. "I will send it tomorrow."

"Good. Leave."

After the property agent left, Y/N walked toward Steve while taking another cigarette. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah. Who wouldn't? Every artist would kill to get this place."

Steve still can't believe it.

Nobody from his class could afford this place. Then he remembered nothing in this world is free. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Y/N smiled at him. "In the world of the arts during the Medieval and Early Modern eras, many artists had a wealthy sponsor of their work, a system called patronage. Like Da Vinci and Mozart."

That part is true. Back then, the Catholic church and the pope hired many artists and sculptured to design the church building. They could afford food and a roof over their head. But some artist doesn’t have a good Patreon. Like Van Gogh, who only ate bread and drank wine. Everyone started to adore his art after he committed suicide. 

She inhaled and exhaled the smoke from her lips. "I felt offended you doubted my sincerity, Steve." 

He coughed and cleared his throat; the tobacco smell was too strong.  "But, why me? There's another talented student from the class."

Y/N shook her head. "I already like your 'special work.' Then when I met you and saw your other painting, I knew I had made a perfect choice."

Her compliment made him flattered, but he had to stay on guard. "It's not just an exhibition; you want to sell my painting."

Her face brightened, and she snapped her finger. "That's right Steve. And you will get 80% share."

He gasped; that was a fantastic offer. "You seem confident; do you already have a potential buyer?"

She nodded, "There's a lot of people who want to do money laundering."

‘HUH?!’

Steve raised his eyebrows. Did his ears fool him? 

Did he just hear that? The way she said it is like, 'Tomorrow is Friday.'

"What?"

Y/N confidently answered, "I’m going to use your painting for money laundering."

Steve knees became weak, that made him unable to stand anymore; he thought:

'Dear God, he always prayed for an answer to his financial trouble. But what kind of angel He sent to him? '

Thank you for reading. I hope you like it.

If you have any feedbacks or want to join the tagged list, you can tell me.

I will always be grateful for those who reblog. Thank you so much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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#chris evans characters #my problematic girl series #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction

[useless19]

In one of my previous posts I mentioned reading/playing the old Nintendo Adventure Books when I was a kid. Out of curiosity, I managed to find some scans of them online and poked through some of the ones I didn't used to have.

They still have an old-school cartoon vibe (constant quips, a lot of nasty appearance-shaming toward the bad guys, etc - they're from 1991), but if you can get over that, I really like the way they often have puzzles to give you hints as to which way to go. It's something I feel is missing from most choose-your-own-adventure books.

(Okay, yes, sometimes the puzzles pushed you in the wrong direction or were just straight up wrong, but the concept is there at least).

However, the reason I'm making this post, is because book 4 Koopa Capers has an opening which I'm amazed that the bowuigi crowd seems to have missed.

"KoopExpress," a voice yells outside the Super Mario Bros. plumbing shop in the heart of Brooklyn, New York. "Special Delivery!"

Luigi looks up from his new invention, a water-powered pasta machine. It isn't working quite right. "Strange," he says. "Mario and I weren't expecting any deliveries today."

The tall, thin plumber tucks his high-tech plumber's helper into the pocket of his green overalls and heads for the door.

When Luigi opens the door, he sees a big package on the stoop. It looks like a giant hero sandwich wrapped in brown paper. "Mmm, looks tasty! But there's no return address," he says, stroking his thick black mustache.

Luigi is even more puzzled when he takes the paper off. "It's a rug!" he exclaims. "I wonder where it came from?" He unrolls the carpet on the living room floor. "Very pretty. It looks like a Goomba pattern."

He steps onto the rug to get a better look. "Hey!" he shouts as it comes to life under his feet. It's a magic carpet!

Before Luigi can escape, the rug wraps itself around him so that only his head and feet protrude from the ends. It rises into the air and zooms down the hall through the special pipe in the workshop that leads to the Mushroom World.

The next thing Luigi knows, the rug screeches to a halt in front of Bowser Koopa's castle. "Oh no!" Luigi thinks. "I'm being served to my worse enemy for dessert."

Out of the corner of his eye, Luigi sees two large helmeted red turtles carrying hammers. The Hammer Brothers! They waddle up to Luigi, pick him up, and carry him into the castle, still wrapped in the magic carpet.

Soon Luigi's bearers arrive at Bowser's enormous throne room. They unroll the carpet and send Luigi tumbling across the floor. He rolls to a halt at the scaly feet of Bowser Koopa, king of the turtles and leader of most of the bad guys in the Mushroom World.

"Good," Bowser says, squinting down his slimy snout at the prisoner. "Now, everybody out! Not you," he growls as Luigi tries to sneak off with the rest of the crowd.

Bowser waits until everyone else leaves. Then, in an embarrassed whisper, he says, "I need your help, plumber."

Before Luigi can recover from shock, the turtle king goes on. "My daughter, Wendy O. Koopa has vanished! She may have been kidnapped," he gulps, shedding a large crocodile tear.

He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and continues. "I sent my Koopa Troopas to search for her, but with no luck. I need a real hero to find her!" He puts his arm around Luigi's shoulder and adds, "I know you can do it. But the whole thing must be hush-hush. I want it kept a secret from my sons, the Koopalings. It's possible that one of them may be the kidnapper. Besides, no one can know you're working for me. It would be terrible for my image."

Luigi is very confused. "Let's recap," he says. "You want my to find your daughter? And you don't plan to tell anyone I'm working for you? So I'll still have to fight your flunkies, including your bratty kids, while I'm doing it?"

Bowser nods. "Right. Of course, your brother Mario might have been a better choice, but---"

"Oh sure, everyone would rather have Mario," Luigi retorts, offended. "Too bad he's fixing that drip at Niagara Falls. What if I say no?"

"I'd be very annoyed," says King Koopa, showing all his teeth in a sinister smile.

As Luigi looks at Bowser's enormous teeth, he says to himself, "Maybe Bowser is telling the truth. There's a first time for everything. And he does seem upset."

Luigi takes another look at the turtle. Bowser is now gazing at the ceiling and whistling innocently. "On the other hand, he's a born liar," the plumber thinks. "Well, maybe I should look into this mystery, just to see what the real story is. Besides, it would be quite a tale to tell Mario."

"Are there any clues?" he asks aloud.

Bowser holds out two shreds of paper. "There was a note in her room, but her Nipper plant chewed it up. This is all that's left."

Luigi can read only two words, FORT and MAGMA, on the scraps. "Intriguing," he says. "Okay, I'll do it. It might even be fun!"

Solve this puzzle to see what happens next:

Help Luigi find his way through this message maze to see where the clues lead.

If you think Luigi should go to the Magma Pits, turn to page 55.

If you think Luigi should go to the Fortress, turn to page 20.

If you think Luigi should look around Koopa's Castle, turn to page 29.

#smb #nintendo adventure books #bowuigi #honestly it's not suggestive #but i know what people were like with that trailer #in the midst of figuring out how to make this properly interactive and potentially hosting it somewhere #also might make for an interesting movie!verse fic opener #(with a few tweaks of course)

[magicalgirlmascot]

[ID: a series of square images, all with white text on a pink background. Full descriptions are in alt text and under read more. End ID.]

New year, new pinned post! I have art commissions open, including character sheets, comic pages, and fully illustrated backgrounds! You can find more info by sending me a DM or checking [my Google Doc.] The doc also has some more options for commissions, like additional characters or minor background elements.

I also have some shops open! [Ko-Fi] has all the merch that I sell at conventions available to be shipped to you. Stickers, prints large and small, charms, sticker sheets, and hopefully more as the year goes on! You can also use it to leave me a tip if you like. [Redbubble] has various designs that I don't have physical merch of myself for one reason or another, as well as types of merch that I don't make, like clothing or notebooks.

Send me a DM or email me at [email protected] for more information or to get started! Reblogs of this post are also greatly appreciated. Thank you!

Image 1: a small rag doll with pink ponytail and blue dress smiles and waves at the viewer. Text in the image: "Magical Girl Mascot's Commissions, Shops, and More! Hello! My name is Rags (she/they) and I'm a freelance independent artist."

Image 2: a young woman in a black leather jacket and red tank with a skull on it glares at the viewer, holding a scythe of bones behind her back. She's divided into three sections showing the distinction between types of commissions with bright blue lines. Text in the image: "Commissions. Bust (shoulders up): Flat colours $15, Fully shaded $20. Hips up: Flat colours $20, Fully shaded $25. Full body: Flat colours $30, Fully shaded $40. See linked Google Doc for more info and TOS."

Image 3: text at the top reads "More Examples." Under are 3 images: a young woman in a blue outfit with pigtails sits on the edge of a bed, knitting a blue scarf with a large scroll on the wall behind her of a young man in an athletic uniform. Cure Sky from Hirogaru Sky PreCure from the hips up, winking and grinning while pointing at herself with her thumb. A bust of a young woman with a green ponytail, round purple glasses, and a green top, looking away, annoyed, raising a hand dismissively, with a background of green and purple grapes.

Image 4: text at the top reads "More Examples." Under are 3 images: a humanized Jaller from Bionicle, blonde and with a red vest, holding a board that says his name in the Matoran font, looking scared and scandalized. A humanized Takua from Bionicle, blue haired in a red shirt with the sleeves rolled up, holding a board with his name on it in the Matoran font, smiling cutely at the viewer. Two young women kissing, seen from the side. One has her arms draped around the other's neck while the other cups the back of her head.

Image 5: two comic pages. The first depicts Setback and Expatriette from Sentinel Comics having an argument, where Expatriette is apologizing for demanding Setback change for her and Setback thinks she's a Fleshchild. The second depicts human versions of Matoro, Jaller, and Nuju from Bionicle. Jaller asks Matoro about Nuju, nearly making him cry, and Matoro admits that Nuju means a lot to him and he regrets not saying goodbye to him before they left. Text in the image: "Comic Page Commissions. Comics are priced on a case-by-case basis. Please email for a quote."

Image 6: two drawings of a teenage hummingbird themed magical girl in her civilian and magical forms. As a civilian, she wears a plain top and skirt, holding her hand out dramatically and smiling. As a magical girl, she winks and waves at the viewer. Between them are four bust expressions: civilian upset and laughing, magical mortified and pouting. Text in the image: "Character Sheet Commissions. 2 styles available (with and without bust expressions). Please see my Google Doc or contact for more info!"

Image 7: four photos of different types of merch. Clockwise from top left: 5 acrylic charms of the Tokyo Mew Mew New protagonists, 6 stickers of the transformation sweets from Kira Kira PreCure a la Mode, 6 postcard sized prints of characters from Mob Psycho 100, Animal Crossing, Ghost Trick, Dragon Ball Z, and PreCure, and 6 stickers of the original Kanohi from Bionicle surrounded by flowers. Text in the image: "Shops! My Ko-Fi shop (linked below) has physical merch like charms, stickers, and prints! Printed, packaged, and shipped by me."

Image 8: screenshot of a Redbubble shop featuring a variety of prints, mostly of magical girls. Text in the image: "Shops! My Redbubble shop (linked below) has fanart and original art on all the Redbubble staples (but especially prints)."

Image 9: mostly text with a single circular logo with a bow inside. Text in the image: "I love to draw: original characters, fanart, TTRPG or MMO characters, frilly/fancy/detailed outfits, fantasy/magical girl outfits/characters, anime styles, simple armor. I will not draw: NSFW/sexual/suggestive content, bigoted or otherwise hateful content, incestuous or pedophilic relationships, excessive gore (subject to discretion). Ask for more info or check my TOS if you're not sure!"

Image 10: the same doll from image 1 smiles and clasps her hands together. Text in the image: "Contact Me! Email me at [email protected] or send me a DM! PLEASE NOTE: All prices are in CAD. Thanks for your interest and I hope to draw for you soon! Don't forget to check out my TOS in the linked Google Doc! More commission options are listed there as well!"

#commissions open #commissions #art commissions #artists on tumblr #commission work #digital artist #freelance artist #it's not tag spamming if it's all relevant right? right??? #anyway. commission me please :3

[iheartfinalgirls]

My Choir Designs

Ocean 

-Design mostly based on Tiffany Tatreau’s Ocean

-Straight orange hair that will go insane in the humidity (She always wears her hair down, like nobody has seen her with her hair up. Constance saw her in a ponytail ONCE.)

-Wears glasses (She literally just looks like the nerd emoji.)

-Has buck teeth (She was supposed to get braces but her parents spent lots of the dental money on a new bong.)

-Freckles everywhere

-Iconic headband

-Acne that she’s desperately trying to treat

-Wears her uniform very neat with a red bowtie.

-5’2

Noel

-Design mostly based on Kholby Wardell’s Noel

-Black hair (He cannot get it wet because he will literally just look like a wet cat)

-Black nail polish that always ends up chipping by the end of the day (He picks his nails).

-He has acne but tries to cover it with foundation.

-Foundation is the only makeup he will wear and he spends all morning trying to make it look less noticeable because he doesn’t want to get bullied.

-He has hairy legs because he’s too scared to shave (He does everything he can to hide them)

-Wears his uniform neat with a black tie.

-5’11

Mischa

-Design mostly based on Chaz Duffy’s Mischa.

-REALLY REALLY REALLY dark blonde hair.

-Iconic backwards hat (He cannot enter a public space without it).

-Promise ring from Talia.

-He has stubble because he hardly ever shaves.

-He has lots of body hair in general. (He hit a growth spurt at an early age)

-Eye bags because he just doesn’t give a shit about sleeping.

-He is a bit muscular but also a bit chubby.

-Wears his uniform in an unorganized way, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his top couple buttons are unbuttoned.

-6’0

Ricky

-Design mostly based on Scott Redmond and Yannick Robin Eike Mirko’s Ricky.

-Curly dark brown hair.

-They have noise-cancelling headphones that look like cat ears.

-Wears glasses

-Mostly uses a wheelchair because it makes communicating easier, whether it’s through ASL or through the AAC device.

-Speaking of their AAC device, it has stickers all over it, they’re mostly sci-fi themed, space themed, comic book themed, or cat themed.

-Wears their uniform pretty much the same way Noel does but they’ll occasionally wear the girls jumper under the sweater vest (They also always have cat hair on them, so they need to carry a lint roller in their school bag).

-5’8

Jane Doe

-Design mostly based on Emily Rohm’s Jane Doe.

-Light blonde ringlets + a black headband with a little bow.(Just imagine the 2016 wig)

-The doll has a white lacy dress with a black ribbon around the waist and black buttons.

-Her face is completely white minus her pink cheeks. Her lips are red and small. Her eyes are big and completely black (Light doesn’t even reflect off of them).

-The separation between her head and neck is cracks.

-There are cracks that start from the corner of her mouth and end under her chin. These cracks allow her to move her mouth to speak (They look similar to a marionette’s mouth).

-Her body is curvy and looks like a corpse.

-Her white shirt is replaced with a white blouse with puffy sleeves that get tighter around her wrists + platform Mary jane’s

-6’0 (6’4 with platforms)

Constance

-Design mostly based on Lillian Castillo’s Constance.

-Coiled black hair that fades into purple at the end (She always plays around with her hairstyle, sometimes its in space buns, half-up half-down space buns, one big bun, or just down sometimes.)

-Wears pastel jewelry.

-Her glasses are rounder than Ocean’s and Ricky’s.

-Nails always painted in pastel colors.

-She just likes decorating herself in lots of pastel colors in general (when she gets pimples, she wears those smiley face pimple patches).

-She is plus-sized (if you draw Lillian’s Constance, draw her plus-sized for the love of god)

-Her shirt is buttoned up but she always forgets her tie.

-5’4

Penny

-Design. Mostly based on Emily Rohm’s Penny.

-Really long brown hair (She hasn’t cut it since she was 14) usually done in twin braids + bangs obscuring her eyes.

-She wears goth jewelry that she always fidgets with (goth Penny is real TO ME).

-She secretly carries her doll in her backpack (Only the choir knows).

-She got pushed down the stairs a lot (before people started ignoring her) so she still has some injuries and bandages on her.

-Her body is curvy.

-She has hairy legs because she HATES how itchy her legs get after shaving.

-Again, her white shirt is replaced with a white blouse with puffy sleeves that get tighter around her wrists (the reason her shirt is different is because of her sensory issues) + platform Mary jane’s.

-6’0 (6’4 with platforms)

#ride the cyclone #rtc #st cassians chamber choir #ocean o'connell rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #ricky potts #jane doe rtc #constance blackwood #penny lamb #legoland jacob richmond #rtc headcanons #ride the cyclone headcanons

[spaceorphan18]

Which book should I read next?

Inspired by @ckerouac - I picked out one book from each of my eight bookshelves** - one that I haven't read and that's been on my TBR list for a while. I'm letting you guys decide which one to read! Let me know what you think! And I'll read the one you pick next....

**- one of the bookshelves is dedicated to Young Reader books, and sitting on top of it are a couple of books that my bother loaned me, so I've included that instead of an actual YR title.

Info about the books under the cut

From the Fiction/Classics bookshelf: Less by Andrew Sean Greer

You are a failed novelist about to turn fifty. A wedding invitation arrives in the mail: your boyfriend of the past nine years now engaged to someone else. You can’t say yes--it would all be too awkward--and you can’t say no--it would look like defeat. On your desk are a series of half-baked literary invitations you’ve received from around the world. How do you arrange to skip town? You accept them all.

From the Graphic Novels bookshelf: Sandman by Neil Gaiman (Vol. 1)

In PRELUDES & NOCTURNES, an occultist attempting to capture Death to bargain for eternal life traps her younger brother Dream instead. After his 70 year imprisonment and eventual escape, Dream, also known as Morpheus, goes on a quest for his lost objects of power. On his arduous journey, Morpheus encounters Lucifer, John Constantine, and an all-powerful madman.

From the Sci-fi/Fantasy bookshelf: The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson

It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them. One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable.

From the Mystery bookshelf: The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman

In a peaceful retirement village, four unlikely friends meet up once a week to investigate unsolved murders. But when a brutal killing takes place on their very doorstep, the Thursday Murder Club find themselves in the middle of their first live case. Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron might be pushing eighty but they still have a few tricks up their sleeves. Can our unorthodox but brilliant gang catch the killer before it's too late?

From the Non-Fiction bookshelf: The Great Green Room by Amy Gary

The extraordinary life of the woman behind the beloved children’s classics Goodnight Moon and The Runaway Bunny comes alive in this fascinating biography of Margaret Wise Brown. Margaret’s books have sold millions of copies all over the world, but few people know that she was at the center of a children’s book publishing revolution. Her whimsy and imagination fueled a steady stream of stories, book ideas, songs, and poems and she was renowned for her prolific writing and business savvy, as well as her stunning beauty and endless thirst for adventure.

From the Agatha Christie bookshelf: The Science of Murder by Carla Valentine

Agatha Christie is the bestselling novelist of all time, and nearly every story she ever wrote involves one―or, more commonly, several―dead bodies. And the cause of death, the motives behind violent crimes, the clues that inevitably are left behind, and the people who put the pieces together to solve the mystery invite the reader to analyze the evidence and race to find the answer before the detective does. Nearly every step of the way, Christie outlines the nuts and bolts of early 20th-century crime detection, relying on physical evidence to tell the real story behind the facades humans erect to escape detection.

From the Young Adult bookshelf: Scythe by Neal Shusterman

A world with no hunger, no disease, no war, no misery. Humanity has conquered all those things, and has even conquered death. Now scythes are the only ones who can end life—and they are commanded to do so, in order to keep the size of the population under control. Citra and Rowan are chosen to apprentice to a scythe—a role that neither wants. These teens must master the “art” of taking life, knowing that the consequence of failure could mean losing their own.

From (on top of the) Young Readers bookshelf: What If It's Us by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it. Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things. But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them?

#books #i actually do want to read all of these so it's win win for me #this is fun RB I should try it once a month or something #i'm going to keep reblogging this until you all vote...

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Okay I am in dire need of some more sweetness. Could I request “Person A stealing person B’s sweater/clothes” with Phoenix??

And big congrats too love! ❤️🎉🎊

Hi Sylvie! Thanks for the congratulations! More sweetness you say? Ask and ye shall receive. Have some more super fluffy Phoenix shenanigans! I know, I know, this isn't quite Person A stealing person B’s sweater/clothes as much as it is clothing freely given, but I thought it was too cute for words! I hope you like it!

Cardigans and Movie Nights

You’re not sure when it started, but some time after the Uranium Mission, the Dagger Squad started holding movie nights. Once a week, the entire squadron would pack up after flying, get into their cars and drive to Maverick’s hangar in the Mojave Desert. Mav has an outdoor projector and each week, one of the squadron would take a turn to pick the movie. There is always popcorn, pizza and drinks. As the squadron settled into their permanent assignment, they opened the invitation to other people on and around the base at North Island. 

You’re a communications officer working out of the air traffic control tower in North Island. It was a complete accident that you’d been assigned to manage Phoenix and Bob’s comms. You got used to hearing Phoenix’s voice through the comms and even began to chat with her. You like talking to her. It makes you smile throughout your day when you get to chat with Phoenix during those few moments before she’s taking off and after she’s landed. You weren’t ever expecting to share anything other than those fleeting chats with her, though. She’d walked up to you when you were in the mess one day, Bob behind her and pulled up a chair. That had been what sparked a beautiful friendship and your invitation to movie nights at Maverick’s.

The first couple of nights, you’d stuck close to Phoenix and Bob, smiling and laughing with them as the three of you curled up on a blanket in the warm grass. It wasn’t long, however, before you were smiling and laughing with all of the other Daggers as well. Sometimes, you still can’t believe that they are your friends. Even though you’re comfortable with all of the Daggers, and can, in fact, rebut Hangman’s flirting, you still prefer Phoenix to them all. As autumn has been creeping up on Southern California, the nights have been getting colder. This particular Friday night, it’s Mickey’s turn to pick the film. You settle into the blanket next to Natasha and wait for Mickey’s pick to come up on the screen. Knowing him, it’s probably some sci-fi flick you barely recognize. 

Of course, before the movie can even start, there are already squabbles breaking out in the crowd. You can see Hangman and Rooster chucking popcorn at each other, and Mickey’s in a deep discussion with Hondo and Payback about his movie of choice. The only place which is nearly silent is the blanket where you and Natasha sit. Bob and his girl are chatting and laughing on one of the blankets nearby. It makes you smile, seeing Bob so happy. You’re just reaching for a piece of popcorn from the bucket you’re sharing with Natasha when a gust of wind blows through the gathering. It sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps over your exposed skin. That’s what you get for wearing a sundress in the middle of October, even in California. 

“Hey, Rosie? Are you okay?” It’s Natasha who notices the shivers on your frame first.

“I’m fine, Tash!” Your cheery tone is spoiled by the way your teeth chatter lightly.

“Bullshit. Here, Rose. Take my cardigan, at least.” She shrugs her cardigan off, revealing the sensible long sleeved tee she’s wearing under the thick oversized fabric.

“I’m really, alright, Tash! That last gust of wind just caught me by surprise.” You can see her eyebrow raise skeptically, but thankfully before she can start speaking again, Mickey starts the film. Natasha pretends not to notice how you cuddle a bit closer to her as the opening credits for the movie spill forth. It looks like Mickey’s decided on Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Soon, the movie takes up all of your focus. 

You love this movie. You’ve seen it a million times and can probably watch it a million more. It’s right in the middle of the scene when Indy and Marianne get trapped in the Egyptian ruins with the snakes that another gust of wind, this one much stronger, sends napkins and empty cartons flying. It also sends another set of shivers coursing through your system. This time, you can’t stop Natasha as she slings the cardigan around your shoulders.

“Wear the sweater, flower.” Her voice is soft as she wraps an arm around you. “Don’t even think about arguing.” You can’t, not when you’re two inches away from her and can feel her breath on your face. You feel flushed and flustered as you put your arms in the sleeves and snuggle in closer to her form. 

You don’t remember much of the rest of the night, perhaps because you’d fallen asleep curled up against Nat’s shoulder wrapped up in her thick, fluffy cardigan. You’d heard the story from Hangman, who’d picked you up and carried you to Mav’s guest bedroom, the next morning. Your face had gotten hot and you’d turned away and gone quiet hearing the Dagger’s teasing. There wasn’t anything between Nat and you, right? There couldn’t be! You were quite content to live in that delusional world and ignore everything they say, at least until the seat next to yours is suddenly filled with the woman herself.

“I’m so sorry.” You can’t even look her in the face, you’re that mortified.

“What’re you apologizing for, flower?” Her voice is that mix of chiding strictness and fond amusement that only Natasha can ever pull off.

“I fell asleep on you.” You can’t hide how you’re wringing your hands together in distress.

“Flower, I was okay with it. Frankly, you’re as light as a feather.” Her words have your head snapping up. She cups your cheek, tugging you in. “In fact, I like it when you wear my clothes. Do you want to do that again?”

“Which part? The part of the night where I was wearing your sweater? Or the part where I probably drooled while sleeping on your shoulder?” Your face feels like the surface of the sun.

“How about both?” Your eyes are wide as Tash tugs you even closer. You can’t help how your eyes flutter closed when she kisses you, once, twice, thrice. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

You can hear the rest of the squadron jeering in the background when you peck her lips one more time, flip them the bird in unison with her and giggle out, “Yes, of course. It’s a date.”

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

#star writes #100 follower celebration #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fluff #natasha phoenix trace x reader #phoenix x reader #natasha trace x reader #phoenix imagine #phoenix fluff