#rowdy peep

[lumpofbird]

the children, they grow

#birb #budgies #baby animals #rowdy peep #cuddly peep #smol peep

[kneelingshadowsalome]

The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #mail order bride #gold rush au #könig angst

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 5)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,069

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

“All I’m saying is that I think he’s pretty cute,” Feyre scoffs, defensively. 

Since you’d moved in, it seems as though your entire life revolves around the boys living next door.

While you’d finally gotten the sleep you deserved last night, something had felt…off. The other side of the wall was almost too quiet as you lay in the darkness, still awaiting sleep to take you in its hold, even though your body had been aching for sleep for so long. All night, there wasn’t a peep from the asshole sharing the wall. You knew it had to be Az living on the other side, there was no way in fucking hell that it wasn’t, but the lack of music blaring through the walls felt like a dream, almost.

You shoved the thoughts from your mind in the early hours of the morning, hastily getting ready for your day. Your first day of classes, and you wouldn’t let him ruin even that. Now, the sun shines brightly on you and Feyre as you walk to your first class of the day, Drawing 201.

You had made your schedules match up as much as they could. With Feyre being an art student as well, she had declared her major in oil painting, whereas you aren’t sure what medium you’d like to get into. All you know is that there’s something drawing you towards the arts, and thankfully, you still have time to take electives and try new classes to see if anything sticks.

The only classes you hadn’t been able to take together were your non-art related ones. Feyre seems to know exactly what her path is in life, minoring in business because she wants to open a gallery one day and figured having an understanding of what goes into owning her own business would be helpful. 

You, on the other hand, had opted for a creative writing class to fulfill that requirement for your college degree. It is a semester filled with imagination and artistry, searching for that missing piece of your soul, trying to find it along the way.

Feyre has her drawing pad tucked under an arm as she walks. Yours is held in a similar fashion, the obnoxiously large pad of paper bigger than your torso. Her golden-brown hair is tied back into a loose bun that she makes look effortless. If you were to try and recreate the same hairstyle, you’d look like a rat. She’s clad in a plain t-shirt and jeans, simple for the balmy weather, not wanting to wear something nicer only to have charcoal and paints splashed over it by the end of the day.

The two of you had been talking about your neighbors, having seen one of them driving off in his vintage car that somehow always seemed to be parked outside of the building. Its paint was red and rusted, metal rotting through. You weren’t even sure that the car was in running condition, but it gave a splutter of black smoke as he rolled away and you wondered if it would make it the few blocks down to campus. 

It was the last roommate, the one you don’t know the name of. He’s large and bulky, muscles seeming to nearly split the seams of any shirt he covered his torso with. The one who had seemed to be the least volatile, that is, until he shut the door in your face for the final time that dreadful night.

The building is old, but the classroom is spacious and drab. Concrete floors adorned with paint that hadn’t come off, dried clay chipping into dust, the room shared with many different classes working with many different mediums. The white walls brighten the room, the sun casting through the windows bouncing off of it and creating intriguing lighting to work with. Art horses are lined up in a circle, surrounding a mattress with a navy blue sheet spread across its lumpy surface. It smells of both paint and graphite, the scent comforting as a part of you settles, shoulders relaxing as you revel in it. 

Accustomed to the setup, you realize that you’re going to be jumping right into the class and will be drawing today. Last year, the most memorable moment in your first life drawing class ever was the oldest man you’ve ever seen being the nude model. Of course, that was the day that your professor had each student drawing a close-up of a specific part of the model’s body, and you’d so luckily gotten to draw his low-hanging, wrinkly balls. Lovely.

You shudder as the memory resurfaces, following Feyre to a seat. You drop your bag to the floor, setting up your own sketchpad, before pulling out the necessary materials you’ll be needing for class.

You roll your eyes in response to her statement. “I didn’t say they weren’t cute, I said that they’re assholes.” Despite your quiet night, you can’t help but wonder about Az, thinking about his brooding nature and stupidly charming face as you drifted off to sleep in the loud quiet of your room.

Students trickle in one by one. A group of girls stride in, laughing about something that happened at a bar over their weekend. Another girl follows, but it’s clear that she isn’t in their group. She’s pretty, with chic, ice blue  glasses perched on her button nose, her striking white hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

Your attention shifts to the boy that follows her in, and your jaw almost drops.

He’s handsome—no, he’s much more than that, you just can’t formulate the words twisting your thoughts and tongue into knots. Maybe after your creative writing class you’d be able to describe his sheer beauty. He has the most luxurious copper hair you’ve ever seen. It cascades across his broad shoulders, a braid on either side, caressing his face. He’s tall, too, an entire head—maybe even more—taller than the white-haired girl he’s bounding behind. His straight nose is flecked with freckles and his fox-shaped face is utterly devastating.

When his gaze finds yours, you feel as though you’re pinned to the art horse beneath you. He has one russet eye, and the other is golden. You want to commit it to memory, curse yourself for not bringing your colored pencils, stare right into those very eyes until you’ve gotten each stroke of his iris’ perfect. He’s mesmerizing, and the closer he moves, you start to make out the fine scar that slashes through that gold eye and his eyebrow above. It’s his only flaw, but only adds to his intimidating aura.

“Hi,” he greets, sliding into the empty seat next to you. You have to look up at him, even sitting, and something in your stomach stirs. “I’m Lucien.”

“(Y/N),” you respond numbly, thrown by his beauty. He’s wearing a loose button-up in the color moss, dark trousers, and even nicer shoes. He doesn’t look anything like an art student. Law, maybe. “Nice to meet you.”

You fumble with your art case as he holds out his hand for you to shake. Cheeks heating, you give him a bashful smile, sliding your hand into his. It’s warm, encapsulating the entirety of your own, and the longer your hand sits in his, the wider his pleasant smile becomes. “You as well,” he responds, then leans over to introduce himself to Feyre. With your back to him, you give her an ‘oh my gods, look how gorgeous he is’ look, and she responds with an elbow to your side, acknowledging that she sees just how gorgeous he is.

This year is determined to kill you, with all of the handsome men you’ve seen so far. Lucien maybe even more so, with how delightful he already is.

You can hardly even remember what you were conversing with Feyre about now that Lucien has entered the room. You couldn’t even remember if one of your neighbors waltzed right into the roo—

Fuck.

Of fucking course.

It’s the one roommate you don’t know the name of. The one who’d been driving away when you and your roommate left for campus this morning, waltzing into the room as if he owns the place.

His frame takes up the entire doorway, and you find yourself wondering if that’s his thing. Precious Azzy’s is being loud, Rhys’ is that forked tongue of his, and this one’s is filling any space with his massive body.

He enters the room with a swagger that has all of the girls swooning, carefree and confident. He oozes masculinity, barrel chested and tall. You didn’t know that he was in this class, though. When Rhys has said that they were juniors, you thought they’d be in the 300 classes, not 200s.

Now might be as good a time as ever to ask, though, because his hazel gaze sparks in recognition when he glances your way, and he beelines over to you. 

“Well, hello there ladies,” he greets with a seemingly genuine smile. He had been the nicest of the three when you and Feyre had almost knocked their door clean from its hinges, but he had also shut the door on you. Plus, with your not-so-great experiences with his roommates, your body is tense, prepared for the worst. “You’re taking this class?”

Feyre takes the bait on this one, and you’re well aware that Lucien is listening in, despite the fact that he’s pulled his satchel into his lap and is unloading his own supplies. “Yeah, it’s required for sophomores. Are you in it as well?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a sinful smile. Wolfish, almost. “You could say that.” You open your mouth to speak but he’s turning towards Lucien, smile broadening into something practically wicked, sticking his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m Cassian, man. Nice to meet you.”

“Lucien,” he replies politely, though you don’t miss the slight grimace on his face when Cassian clenches his fingers in his own. You smother a laugh because Cassian looks like he could break all of the bones in Lucien’s hand with just a little more pressure if he wanted to.

The trifecta is complete. You finally have all three names, though you only know Az through his nicknames alone. Or maybe his name is Azzy. Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy all of the time. 

Whatever. You don’t care.

After introducing yourself and Feyre to Cassian, he leans in closer. He smells earthy, like freshly turned dirt and smoked wood. It reaches out to you like roots in the ground, and it’s refreshing, to say the least.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he starts, and you nearly recoil. You were expecting him to come in here with the arrogance his roommates seem to share, not this sincere politeness dripping from his words. His hazel eyes are earnest as you inspect him, his soft smile a touch guilty, if anything. “It’s just that I’ve got to side with my roommates. You can understand that, right?” 

“You don’t even know what he did,” you answer, trying not to grumble. Your brows are pinched and you watch Cassian take note of that. Az had been a complete prick for no reason, and that’s just not cool in your books.

Cassian winces, dropping back an inch or two. His voice is low, more of a whisper than you thought someone of his size would be able to make. “It’s not really my place to say, but Azriel had had a rough day. And no, that doesn’t excuse his actions, but you did threaten to tow his bike, and he doesn’t take that lightly. But hey, it had nothing really to do with me, so I’m willing to look past it if you are.” 

Azriel. Aa full name to a face and well, it kind of suits him. The angel of death. A shiver wracks your spine.

With that permanent scowl, he certainly looks the part.

And, this isn’t the apology you expected, but it’s a truce, a peace offering between neighbors. Maybe, if you accept, Cassian will be able to pass along the message of ‘shut the fuck up after midnight’ to Azriel.

You share a look with Feyre, contemplating. It seems as though she’s thinking similarly to you because she smiles up at Cassian, agreeing. “We’d love that.”

Cassian beams, straightening to his full height. Fuck, he’s huge. 

He looks as if he may say something more, but the professor enters the room and calls his name. He shoots you and Feyre a cheeky grin. “That’s me,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll come get your numbers after class. Try not to enjoy it too much, ladies.” With a wink, he turns, gliding across the room with an ease someone built like a brick wall should have.

Your eyes follow him as he stalks towards the teacher, all grins and positivity. Maybe he isn’t like his broody, rude roommates. The teacher asks him something and he’s nodding along as if he’s done this before and is being reminded of what’s expected of him for this class. He roots around in the bag slung over his shoulder and pulls something out as he makes his way towards the door. Maybe he’s not enrolled in your class and only needed to speak to the professor?

“Welcome to Drawing 201,” the professor greets, clapping her hands together to gain the attention of the room. The murmurs soften as she speaks, students ready to have their talents molded by her intelligence. “My name is Ms. Woods, but you can call me Alis.”

You don’t miss Cassain slipping back into the room as Alis walks you through warm up exercises and best practices for the class. Your fingers are already coated with charcoal from where you’d roughly outlined shapes of Feyre’s body for warm ups. The curves on your paper become more and more fluid as you get into the familiar motions of drawing.

“What do you think he’s doing here?” you murmur to Feyre, still watching where Cassian is crouched low as if he wouldn’t be able to hear the professor from his full height. While you’re turned this way, you catch Lucien peeking at you over his shoulder for a fleeting moment, and before your gaze can snag his, he’s turning back to his own work.

Feyre shrugs, studying the lines of your face. “You don’t think he’s the—”

“This is Cassian,” Alis interrupts, stealing your attention from your roommate and your drawing. It’s nothing more than a mess of rough shapes, looking nothing like her at all, but you’re trusting the process. Only a minute's time isn’t long enough for more than that. 

Cassian is no longer wearing his loose jeans and tight t-shirt. Instead, he dons a thick, gray robe. The fabric doesn’t nearly drape far enough down, his gloriously tanned and muscular legs on full display, showing off an intricate tattoo from his knees, creeping up underneath the fabric. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, following the lines of muscle all the way up as Alis continues, “He’s going to be our model for the day.”

You’re not the only one who chokes at the news. Girls and guys alike are blushing in their seats, and Cassian can hardly contain the smug smirk threatening to split his face in two. He winks over at you and Feyre who share a wide-eyed look. Lucien scoffs lightly, and your jaw snaps shut, pink heating your cheeks as well.

You busy yourself by flipping to a new page in your pad. It’s crisp and white, not at all as interesting as you’re trying to make it seem as you avoid Cassian’s mirth-filled stare. You smooth the paper with your hand, and it’s shaking slightly with anticipation. Your new neighbor who’s just offered a truce, and you’re already going to be seeing him naked.

Would it have been weirder to be mad at him and stare at his naked form, or now, when a ceasefire has been declared and you’re somewhat on the road to becoming friends?

You don’t have the chance to think further on it because Cassian moves into the circle towards the lone mattress on the floor as Alis explains how the time spent in class is going to be divided. There will be a few three minute sketching sessions where you are to get down as much of his form as you can, while Cassian continuously changes poses. Following that, there will be two fifteen minute sessions, a break, and a final longer session where you’ll focus more on detail than form.

He slides out of his shoes, and you swallow roughly as he undoes the ties to his robe. Thankfully, he’s not looking at you, watching your intent gaze pinned to his tanned skin. The fabric slides from his broad shoulders, down, exposing the muscles of his back. The less fabric that shows, the more tattoos you see, covering both arms and licking across his chest. His waist pulls in tight and you have to bite your lip to hold back a noise in the completely silent room. Rippling muscles line his body, corded and thick in all of the right places. You can’t help it, staring unabashed because he’s turned away from you, your eyes falling from the inky whorls of tattoos across his shoulders, down through the cavern of the muscle lining his spine, all the way down to his tight ass.

All of the students are entrapped by his beauty, as if he’s aphrodite reincarnated. Two dimples poke in the base of his spine that you want to lean forward and dip your tongue into, but then he’s shifting a little and his cock is on full display.

The stick of charcoal in your fingers snaps in half.

You hope you get that facing you for the few hours you’ll be here.

Next to you, Lucien tuts under his breath, but even he can’t seem to look away from the Greek God standing before you.

Alis instructs Cassian into his first pose and then addresses the class. “Alright, your time begins now.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You don’t know how you’re able to focus on anything other than the cock draped so prettily across his abdomen.

Cassian looks as relaxed as ever, splayed out across the blue sheet on the mattress, one arm tucked beneath his head, eyes shut, and breathing even as if he might have actually fallen asleep. 

With the late nights you know he and his roommates tend to have, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

You lose yourself in the quiet of the classroom, nothing but the sounds of long strokes or chalk against paper, the scratch of quick sharp lines being drawn. There’s the occasional murmur of advice or comments from Alis as she makes her rounds, weaving through students spread throughout the room.

Drawing the contours of his muscle is no easy feat. Packed layer upon layer from years or hard work spent in the gym, you rub the dark soot into your drawing pad. It’s calming, sweeping the charcoal over the white space to create shadows the lighting paints across his body.

His tattoos take some effort, even though Alis had said not to worry about those, that getting his form down was more important, but you can’t help yourself. You’ve always been interested in people’s tattoos and the stories behind them, the significance or lack thereof for some, despite having none of your own. You draw them with an extra care, trying your best not to make up reasons as to why he might have them. Now that you’re going to be on friendly terms, maybe you can ask him the meaning behind them yourself.

Eventually, Alis’ timer goes off, the ringtone the same as your phone, and for a fleeting moment your body reacts as if it’s your own alarm going off, a slight twist in your stomach as your body locks for a moment. You put down your chunk of charcoal as Cassian sits up, dusting your fingers off and admiring your drawing, comparing it to the model once more before he tugs on his robe.

Feyre stands to stretch, her back popping as she twists around. You wipe the soot from your hands on a cloth and grab your water bottle, the crisp water wetting your parched throat.

Lucien leans over, copper hair cascading over his shoulder and almost brushing your arm in the process. You wouldn’t mind, it looks silky smooth and the smell of his hair oil makes you want to lean in a little closer. He studies your work as you drink and eventually, with a smirk, says, “You have quite an eye for detail.”

You splutter and he bites his pink lip, trying to smother his smile. He gives you the most innocent look he can muster, but he doesn’t know that you have a retort on the tip of your tongue, just as soon as you stop choking.

“You sound a little bit jealous there, Lucien.”

Feyre laughs and he gapes dramatically, “Maybe, a little.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at his antics, the rest of your classmates packing up around you. Cassian’s disappeared from the room already, probably in the restroom changing, and you wonder if he’ll be back for your number like he promised.

In the meantime, you pack your things away, stuffing your extra chalks of charcoal back into your case, along with your cloth and kneaded eraser. You feel confident in the work you’ve done today, so with a last glance at your drawing, you flip your pad shut, taking Feyre’s for her and walking with Lucien to stash them in the assigned drawer you and Feyre share.

“So, are you an art major?” you ask, waiting for the crowd around the shelves to dissipate a little.

He cuts you a suspicious look, but it’s playful. “You didn’t get a glimpse of my drawing, did you? I suppose I can’t blame you with a model looking like that, but it’s entirely awful,” he states, and you stare up at him in disbelief. 

“Surely it can’t be that bad,” you argue, and his lips thin a little as he flips open his drawing pad just enough for only you to see. It’s difficult to hold in the laugh trying to burst from your throat. 

Lucien winces but a puff of laughter follows that makes your shoulders ease. “I told you it was shit, your face only confirmed it!”

There’s no coming back from this one, so you decide to play into it.

“Okay, it’s not great, but I’ve definitely seen worse. You should’ve seen my stuff from last year.”

Lucien rolls his eyes, stepping forward in line. “Oh, I’m sure it was nothing like the gorgeous drawing you’ve managed to pull out of your ass in two hours today,” he scoffs, and you elbow him in the arm gently. “Your drawing literally looks like a photograph!”

It doesn’t, but your cheeks heat at his compliment anyway. 

“I might’ve been doing this a little longer than you have,” you defend. Since you could hold a crayon, to be exact.

He huffs, stuffing his pad into a drawer and offering to help you with yours and Feyres. He pulls your drawer open and you slide the pads inside, stepping out of the way so others can crowd him as he closes up and follows you back to your seats. “Well, then you might have to help me out, because I thought that taking a few drawing classes would help me with my renderings for architecture, but those are all straight lines and circles and this is all curved lines and cock.”

You can’t help but laugh this time, leaning over your horse to pack away the rest of your supplies. Feyre’s all ready to go, face buried in her phone as she texts someone, fingers tapping quickly on the screen.

“You know, if you remove yourself from what you’re looking at, this is all just lines and circles too.”

Lucien slings his satchel over his shoulder, staring down at you with those mesmerizing eyes that shine when he speaks. “Would you want to explain that further sometime, over coffee perhaps?”

You’re a little shocked by his bluntness, but you grin and nod nonetheless. “I’d like that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @vellichor01 @hirah-yummar @girl-who-writes-stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @konaanaria13 @emiler-love @yourdorkiness @azrielsstarlight

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #midnight muse #art school au #azriel au #tattoo arstist!azriel

[rae-writes]

punishment

om brothers x poly!reader (+ solomon)

wc : 1.k

warnings : nsfw

synopsis : you finally lose your patience with the brothers and decide a nice punishment is in order

a/n : no one talk to me about how ridiculously long this took to finish

Part 2

You stared down at your soggy homework with a blank face. Every single page, pages you spent countless sleepless nights completing, were now ruined; sopping wet, illegible, and falling apart. Your eyes slowly peered up at the seven demons responsible.

Lucifer shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. Mammon’s face went pale. Levi seemed like he was about to cry. Satan gulped loudly, feeling your silent rage rising. Asmo was sweating bullets. Beel looked like a kicked puppy. Belphie appeared disinterested but his hands were visibly trembling. 

“W-we’ll r-redo it for ya, Mc! P-promise! Right guys?!” Mammon gave a wobbly smile when the rest of his brothers agreed.

Giving a wry smile back, you stood from your crouched position. “Yes. You will. But I don’t think that’s enough for me.” Your head tilted in mock thought, “You’ve all been ridiculously rowdy as of late, and this was my last straw. The seven of you need to be punished and I-”

Chills ran down their spines; they didn’t like your excited tone. 

“-have the perfect idea.” You smiled cheerfully, taking out your D.D.D. “Lucifer, make sure they all stay put, I need to make a quick call.”

“Me?”

“Of course. I can trust in you not to disobey me, yes?”

Lucifer stiffened, “We will all be here when you get back.” 

“Good.” Spinning around, you skipped to the entrance hall, far enough so the brothers couldn’t listen in. You tapped on your phone, clicking the call button. 

“Hello?”

“Hi Solomon! I have a bit of a…crude favor to ask. Are you free right now?”

-

As Lucifer said, they were all right where you left them. They looked up, ready to start begging for forgiveness, when their mouths dropped. “SOLOMON?!”

The sorcerer smiled, “Hello. I hear you’ve made Mc very upset.” His eyes gleamed when your arms wrapped around his waist. “I’m here to help with their delightfully thought out punishment.” 

“Go sit over there, boys. Beel, Lucifer, and Satan on the couch. Mammon, Levi, Belphie, and Asmo on the floor in front.” Your eyes followed them like a predator as they did what you said, even without the pacts. “Thank you. Now…stay there.”

They gasped, feeling their bodies obey. All of them were practically glued to where they sat- they couldn't get up if they tried. Most of them were actually curious and excited as to where this was going. Not that they’d admit it, of course.

Though the hint of excitement dulled as they watched you settle yourself on Solomon’s lap, eyeing the way your hands trailed over the sorcerer’s chest and shoulders. This was fine. This was totally fine- they could handle this, right? 

Almost like you could hear their thoughts, your hips began to rock back and forth, lips parting in moans and whimpers that made the brothers struggle against their pacts. They spat out quiet curses while you continued to ride Solomon’s thigh, uncaring of the 7 demons in the room.

“Don’t avert your eyes. Mc would be offended if you didn’t watch our show.”

Lucifer is fucking livid, but he’s silent about it. No one hears a peep out of him the entire time. His red hues are trained on the way your back arches, lips pulling into a snarl because your face is hidden in Solomon’s neck. So help him, when he gets released from your order, Lucifer is going to destroy you in a way you won’t even remember any name but his. His temper rises every second- he’s mad about what’s happening in front of him just out of reach and he’s mad about getting mad because he should have more composure than this, goddamnit! But he throws all those thoughts out of the window when you tilt your head to the side and stare him directly in the eyes because fuck you’re cumming but you’re cumming on someone who isn’t fucking him and fuck he’s releasing the most primal growl he’s ever made when you have the audacity to grin at him afterwards

Mammon is having a fucking conniption and an aneurysm at the same time; he’s yellin and screamin and cursin, but if you listen close enough, you can hear him whinin. This is so unfair! He’s your first man! What the fuck are you doing on Solomon’s lap?! He said he was sorry! Isn’t he your favorite? Wouldn’t ya rather be on his lap? He swears he can make you feel so fucking good- please? Mammon quiets down when you scold him, blue eyes shinin because your attention is finally on him. He’s a noddin and agreein to everything you say happily, almost like a dog, but when you cum, he watches your eyes flit over to Lucifer- away from him- and now he’s cryin out, babbling angrily while he thrashes in his seat, eager to be released so he can get a hold of you and mark ya as his again

Levi is sobbing— short breathed cries and stuttered words slurring together as he pleads. He swears he had nothing to do with your ruined homework, it was all Mammon’s fault! His tail is thumping on the floor urgently, begging for your attention, and he nearly combusts when you finally focus your lidded eyes on him. Levi fucking keens at your soft words as you begin reassuring him that he’s a good boy and he’ll be rewarded if he just waits out the punishments patiently. Now he’s just writhing around, trying his best to keep the envy laced complaints to himself because he’s your good boy- he is!- but fuck he can’t help but whine when you cum without a single ounce of attention on him

Satan is rather composed; straight faced with an unwavering tone. His sharp gaze scanned over every inch of your body meticulously— for a second it seemed like he’d be- ironically- the only calm one of the seven. That is, until you fleetingly mentioned him behaving like a certain someone. Then he was snarling and growling and spitting out empty threats. So help him when he gets out of this fucking pact- Satan’s mouth snaps shut when you let out a teasing mewl, cheeks blistering red as his rage boils down to a simmer. It only lasted for a moment, though, before he was lashing out with his tail when you flitted your eyes over to Lucifer as you came

Asmo is torn between wanting to moan alongside you at seeing one of his fantasies coming to life or to cry at being left out on something he’d suggested. The fifth born is so conflicted it hurts! His hips are bucking up into nothing and his eyes are lidded- Asmo won’t close them, though, especially not when Solomon starts to moan too. He can feel the mascara dripping down his cheeks that flush red when you coo at him. It feels like his body is on fire when you start to sweetly degrade him, eyes rolling white when you suggest he joins the two of you; your pact hasn’t been released, so when he stupidly tries to crawl towards you, he sobs prettily at the restraint and misses out on watching you cum

Beel is quiet, like usual. It’s not like Lucifer or Satan’s angry kind of quiet; the sixth born is just observing. Darkened purple eyes trailing from place to place— eyeing the way your mouth parts, the way your hips start to stutter, the way your hands shake ever so slightly. Beel’s voice comes out as a deep rumble; soft, rich, and inquisitive. He’ll ask if it feels good, if you like riding your friend’s thigh, if you get off on making them suffer and watch. His eyes will flash when you send him a smirk and his stomach will rumble when you loll your tongue out just for him; he’s not hungry for food, though. He’s hungry to taste the orgasm that rips through you, so hungry in fact, he’s letting out a growl in displeasure when Solomon gets to feel your legs tremble instead

Belphie is throwing a temper tantrum the second your hips start moving over Solomon’s thigh. He’s snarling and growling and cursing louder than even Mammon. You are fucking his and you should be on his fucking lap- not that stupid sorcerer’s! He already has to share with his brothers, he is not about to share with Solomon. Belphie’s eyes nearly narrowed into slits when you moan out his name teasingly, body thrashing against the invisible restraints keeping him on the floor. Unlike Lucifer, he’s audibly warning you that if you don’t get the fuck off of Solomon’s lap right now, you better hope that you can run fast because as soon as he’s released from this fucking bind, he’ll make sure you can’t walk after he’s done with you. Right before you cum, Belphie lets out a menacing ‘don’t you fucking dare’ but ends up whining because you looked at Lucifer when you came and not him

A trail of kisses are placed down the expanse of your neck, hands moving from your hips to your waist, “So pretty, Mc. You look like an angel when you cum~” Solomon’s grin is nothing short of wicked as his eyes bore into the brothers’ from over your shoulder. 

It makes you giggle and turn your head so you can glance over each demon. Humming, you make a show of pretending to think, before you shakily get up from Sol’s thigh and face them, “Have you learnt your lesson? The looks on your faces tell me you did.”

Lucifer is glowering in a way that if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under. Mammon is still straining against the pact but his eyes are wild as they scan over you. Levi is whimpering and nodding, begging for you to release his binds, and keening when you coo at him. Satan appears calm but you can see the raging fire in his eyes as he bares his teeth. Asmo is a hot mess with his mascara running down his face, pleading to be released. Beel looks indifferent as he whines for food, but you know he’s actually whining for you. Belphie is also thrashing against his pact as he whines and cries, trying to play the ‘youngest’ card to get released first. 

You mirror Solomon’s sly smile, “Don’t do it again.”

The brothers feel the pact command release, sending a few of them tumbling forward. All seven of them are rushing to their feet, but when they look up, both you and the sorcerer are gone and the only thing they can do is follow your laughter throughout the house until they finally catch you.

#obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me imagine #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #belphegor x reader #belphie x reader #solomon x reader

[mistydeyes]

Thinking about the scenario where secret agent reader (so like CIA or MI6 and things like that) meets Gaz at a bar and scores. Drinks and talking and dancing, until Gaz suggests you go back to his place. Once there, before things get steamy, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready, but it's actually to stash away your hidden weapons you carry with yourself all the time. Only, when you figure out a good spot, you already find weapons there already.

And it clicks. How he gets dodgy when work comes up, how his dance moves vaguely resemble basic fighting regiments, etc... Seems theres more to the man than just his charm.

THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD IDEA! thank you so much for submitting, I had so much fun thinking abt this funny scenario. also fr peep the side eye because that's how he'd be looking at you during the reveal HAHA

the intertwining of secret lives

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When you meet a handsome 20-something in the club, you look through your rose colored glasses and ignore his eccentricities. However, when it comes time to hide a few of your necessities, you are absolutely blindsided.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Two men by the door, performing a sweep across the dance floor in opposing schedules. They're standing in front of the primary exit with another guard standing at the emergency exit. The solo guard appears 5'10-5'11, weighing around 200lbs and the bruised knuckles means he's accustomed to rowdy customers and bar fights. Based on his wide stance, I could probably sweep at his leg befor- "Hey, want to take this back to mine?" Kyle's voice whispered in your ear, interrupting your covert surveillance. You blinked a few times as you took in his offering. It was difficult for you to shut off your years of CIA training and actually relax for once. Even now, you were slightly suspicious of this unemployed and handsome 20-something who was holding you by the waist at the bar. Yet since he locked eyes with you in the crowded room, it was clear the tension was palpable. Before he could ask again, you put a hand on his.

"Is it close or do you plan on carrying me, Kyle?" you winked, and even under the dim lights, you could see his cheeks slightly heat up. As he tried to stifle down the remainder of his drink, you decided to interrogate him a bit more before he took you to his. "Your silence is telling me, you haven't been to the gym in a while," you teased as you eyed his fit figure, "you look like you're more of a cardio man anyways." He shook his head at your not-so-subtle observations, having an endearing chuckle at the comment. "Well you did say my dancing looked like some silly American MMA thing," you giggled as he said that. It was just a sarcastic comment you made as you saw him methodically make his way across the dance floor, dodging the various drinks and drunken moves of the other patrons. "Anyways," he continued, downing his drink, "you might have just revealed my love for some combat training." With that, he gave you a wink and you melted in your seat. You found yourself endeared by his subtle jokes and shining smile. It made you push aside all the stress of work and effortlessly lie through your teeth about your hidden life.

After you closed your tab, Kyle held the door for you and ushered you politely out of the loud club. He walked beside you, hand in pockets and a relaxed smile on his face, as he navigated through the streets. You made small talk about some of the wild moments from the club and the fact you had both spent a fortune on drinks and shots. "Glad I saved up for this vacation," you lied, continuing with your story of an American tourist in London, "the 9-5 was all worth it for some strong drinks and a pretty face." In the cold night air, you could see his face become illuminated with the street light and the way his cheeks curved up in a hearty laugh. "You Americans and your toxic work culture," he chided as he bumped you with his elbow, "hopefully I can show you how to take it slow tonight." You blushed profusely at the comment and bit your lip as Kyle took a turn to a row of flats. 

"This one's mine," he whispered and fumbled to find his keys. You stood there idly as you looked down at the street. It seemed quiet, nothing, particularly of notice. In fact, if you were looking for a safe house this would be ideal as it was perfectly tucked in between mundane families. "Home sweet home," he presented and you walked into the furnished flat. You peeked around and noticed the lack of personality within the home besides some paintings and postcards. A thin layer of dust lay amongst everything and the house smelled distinctly of a wall plug-in, probably bought this morning. He noticed your gaze and shrugged slightly. "I haven't had time to make this place nice," he sheepishly confessed, "been helping out with my family for the last few weeks." You nodded before you walked closer to him. "So what do you want to do now that I'm here?" you flirted before you closed the gap with a soft placement of your lips on his.

You felt a mix of happiness and uncertainty in your stomach. To the special agent inside you, it was the sign things were going a bit too well. But to the normal person, it was the presence of butterflies in your stomach. He tasted of a mix of alcohols and smelled vaguely of wood and santal. He wrapped his strong arms around you as you shuffled backward to the bedroom. You could feel him lower you softly onto the bed before you pulled him a bit closer with your arms around his neck. As he pulled up to look at you in this vulnerable state, you realized you were being poked by an object. Your mind went to a certain place for a moment until you realized it was actually the knife strapped to your thigh that was poking you. Your face dropped when you realized where things were going. You hastily pushed Kyle off of you before running off unceremoniously to the bathroom. "Sorry just have to pee! Those drinks are running through me," you joked through the door as you navigated to the master bathroom across the room.

"Take your time," you could hear him echo through the door as you put down the toilet seat. You looked around the small bathroom and tried to figure out where to hide the knife. More like knives, you thought when you realized you had another two strapped to your boot. "Oh fuck me," you whispered as you tried to look around. Within the bathroom, there was a small medicine cabinet with a mirror and a few drawers underneath the sink. You flushed the toilet hurriedly and ran the sink as you opened up the bottom drawer ever so carefully. When you opened it, you were not expecting to see another collection of tactical knives and a gun facing back at you. You tried to stifle your surprise as you gently picked up the firearm. You turned it to see it was inscribed with PROPERTY OF THE ROYAL ARMY etched into the side. You placed it down gently as underneath it lay an official-looking ID. You read the details quickly as you focused on the serious face of one Sergeant Kyle Garrick. You looked at the picture resembling the man in the next room, verifying all of the signature markings of an official government ID. "You alright in there?" you could hear his question as you quickly shut the drawer. You hastily turned off the tap before returning to the bedroom.

Kyle was lying casually on the bed and you could tell he had generously sprayed some vanilla room spray to cover up the mustiness of the unattended flat. Explains the dust and lack of furnishings, you thought as you stood leaning against the doorway. "Find anything interesting?" he flatly asked and you couldn't help but be caught off guard for the first time this evening. "What do you mean?" you bluffed but he stopped you with a flick of his hand. "The sink was running for a bit too long," he joked, "plus I know what those drawers sound like when they slam." You let out a dry laugh before sitting back next to him. "Well, I guess I should say I did find something," you said as you looked at his eyes, mixed with uncertainty, "you really should keep your weapons in a better location." As he tried to come up with a myriad of excuses, you put a hand on your chest. "As long as you don't mind if I put mine away, I won't question it, Sergeant," with that, Kyle tried to hide his surprise as you unsheathed your weapons from your person. "Do I want to know?" he joked hesitantly before you made your way on top of him. "You can ask in the morning, Garrick."

The next morning, you raced over to your hotel and barely made it to your 9 am meeting in the office suite. "Wonder who Laswell has me working with now," you mumbled as you nodded to the agents guarding the secured room. You should have seen the look on your face when you locked eyes with Kyle, who sat equally as shocked and secretly sporting a hickey underneath his uniform collar.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Hey I know this isn't on-topic for an Eridan blog but you're the best HS theorist I know <3 so do you happen to have any theories about WHY Gamzee faked god tier? I always see theories about how he could be a real god tier too, or about how he manages to be immortal even though he's not god tier, but I cannot find any discussion of WHY he bothered with that ruse in the first place!!! He didn't even fool anyone, unless we count Caliborn for like 2 secs before Hussie told him the truth, and all he got for his trouble was shot!

I think it's mostly a gag, but this is the Analyzing Homestuck blog, so: I think it's because Gamzee wants to look like an adult to impress Caliborn.

Gamzee's lusus is physically neglectful.

But you were never taught that on account of a lousy upbringing. Your custodian was always out to sea.

And several things stem from that neglect - the first, his indoctrination into the Clown Cult, the second, his extensive and all-encompassing drug usage, and the third, his poor social skills, which leave him ostracized by his teammates.

Let's first take a look at what, exactly, that religion entails:

You belong to a RATHER OBSCURE CULT, which foretells of a BAND OF ROWDY AND CAPRICIOUS MINSTRELS which will rise one day on a MYTHICAL PARADISE PLANET that does not exist yet. The beliefs of this cult are SOMEWHAT FROWNED UPON by those dwelling in more common lawnrings.

TC: I PeEpEd oN A PlAcE Of 6 tRiLlIoN HeMoS TC: AlL Up aT OnE RoCk, BlEeDiNg aS EqUaLs TC: It's eAsY To sEe iF YoU SeArCh aLl yOuR FeElInS TC: ThAt pEaCe hApPeNs fIrSt, AnD MuRdEr's tHe sEqUeL TC: It's tHe bEaUtY Of tHe cArNiVaL, tHe mAgIc's iN TeNtS

TC: all my life i believed at a fuckin paradise to come what held the most baller, darkest of carnivals to join. TC: AND A PROPHECY TC: to tell all about a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels steeped in the good harshwhimsy. TC: THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS WERE FORETOLD TO BE CRASHING THAT FUCKING PIE STAND AND BRING THE HOLY RUCKUS. TC: like a giddy fuckin ninja one wheeling head long at the hugest fuckin horn heap shangri la's got to see. TC: I'M TALKING ABOUT THE VAST HONK, YOU BLASPHEMOUS MOTHERFUCKER. TC: what i believed in it to be was so beautiful, us and them all mellowing in tents, bumpin sounds, tossing back the faygo and soaking the miracles up our faith sponges, while the special stardust rained down at our elixir sticky faces, like a bunch a fuckin fairy powder from religion space. TC: IT WAS GOING TO BE US AND MOTHER FUCKING THEM. TC: them and mother fuckin us. :o(

In essence: Gamzee's cult believes that there will be a Vast Honk, which will kill all trolls; however, "a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels" will usher in/create a new paradaisical planet of nothing but good vibes and chill times, where the "mirthful messiahs" will get to enjoy eternity.

There's pretty clear parallels here to the Christian concept of the Rapture, which fits in with the Garden of Eden/Original Sin themes of the Dancestors and the Second Coming thing Karkat's got going on. But, more importantly, it's also pretty directly just... what SGRUB/SBURB are all about. Their original population all dies, but a bunch of kids band together to create a new universe, with new planets, where theoretically live out the rest of their godhood in peace and happiness.

Were it not for the casteist influences as a result of being a cult largely followed by highbloods, there'd pretty much be nothing inherently objectionable about Gamzee's belief system - it's fundamentally hopeful, and, in fact, when he raps about it to Tavros, part of it is outright about "equalizing" the hemocaste (they all bleed as equals, see). Tavros agrees:

AT: tHE SLAMS WERE TRULY PRIME, aND, AT: yOUR RELIGIOUS VIEWS, tHOUGH i DON'T SHARE THEM, aRE, AT: rEASONABLY INSPIRATIONAL, AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR,

Next, we'll look at the sopor usage and ostracization together, because I think they're interlinked. People on Gamzee's team are friggin' mean to him.

CG: MIRACLES ARE LIKE POOP STAINS ON GOD'S UNDERWEAR. TA: eheheh makiing fun of people2 reliigiion2 i2 the be2t thiing two do.

GC: NO TH4T SHOULD BOTH3R YOU, TH4T R34SON GC: WHY DONT TH1NGS L1K3 TH4T BOTH3R YOU?? GC: NO WOND3R V4NT4S C4NT ST4ND YOU

CT: D --> What you do appear to know is e%actly how to ma%imize my livid contempt for you CT: D --> With your revolting language and your sense of decorum CT: D --> At such breathtaking odds with the richness and perfe%ion of your b100d CT: D --> I just hate you so much

CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT

On the whole, the team treats him as the party joke, if not outright worthy of derision. The one person on his team who IS nice to him, Tavros, ghosts him after Gamzee is too forward and asks to make out with him. He's deeply lonely, and what's more, his introductory narration is littered with pessimism.

You'll be doing one thing then something else hits you just like that and you roll with it. That's what you do when life hands you lemons. You sure as fuck don't make lemonade because who the fuck knows where that fuckin' shit comes from?

Someone is bugging you. This is exciting. You're always down for shooting the wicked shit with anyone that who'll put up with you.

That last one makes it clear that Gamzee is also aware of how much people on the team don't like him.

I'm also of the opinion that "Soft Gamzee" was always fake and never existed, which is outright stated by Hussie from the book:

The best explanation for why Gamzee says he's scared of Vriska, in my opinion, is this: he's flat-put lying. It's a good way for him to maintain his cover as 'Soft Gamzee.' It also provides some ammunition for those who, against all sense of good taste and judgment, want to continue to believe and assert that Gamzee is a decent guy with sensitive emotions and vulnerabilities before he undergoes his Muderstuck awakening. He was none of those things, ever.

But there's evidence for this - Gamzee has actually always been kind of casteist:

AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR, TC: Me tOo, BrO, yOu mOtHeR FuCkIn kNoW ThErE Be sOmE Of mY EyE's RoYaL JeLlY To gO WiTh yOuR EmOtIoNaL pEaNuT BuTtEr. AT: wHOA, aHA, hA,

He's trying to be affectionately so here, but given Tavros's "whoa, haha," reaction, it seems like it's still a pretty out-of-pocket thing to say. Especially in light of GamRezi, it's pretty easy to read him as making passive-aggressive digs to Terezi here:

TC: I'm OuTsIdE kEePiNg An EyE oUt HeRe FoR tHe OlD gOaT. TC: yOu KnOw HoW iT iS wItH fAmIlY. GC: NO, NOT R34LLY! GC: 4DURRRR DURR DURP TC: Oh YeAh...

TC: hAvE yOu EvEr EvEn SeEn ThE oCeAn? TC: oR i MeAn SmElLeD iT... TC: SoRrY. GC: >:[

His reaction to Eridan is also "indulge emotional theatrics," but depending on whether you believe Eridan killed his lusus, it's debatably justified. I'm just going to mention that that's also there.

His constant assertion that Karkat is his best friend, which isn't reciprocated until after murderstuck, also kind of reads as a palecrush to me. This is supported by the fact that Nepeta has always had pale GamKat on her shipping wall - which I believe is more representative of how people feel and what they want than whether a romantic pairing is viable, as part of her Heart (and NOT Blood) powers.

He won't stop referring to Karkat as his best friend, really awkwardly changes the topic when the conversation has led to him having to acknowledge that Karkat is closer to Sollux (whom Karkat calls his best friend):

TC: yEaH mAyBe BuT hE's YoUr BeSt FrIeNd ThOuGh So It'S aLl CoOl. TC: AnYwAy I tHoUgHt ThIs SoUnDeD lIkE a PrEtTy BiG mOtHeRfUcKiN dEaL mY mAn. TC: aAaUuUhHh... CG: WHAT. TC: Aw BrO nEvErMiNd, I jUsT fUcKiN dId LiKe To ScArE tHe ShIt OuTtA mYsElF hErE. TC: tHeSe DaMn HoRnS.

(Sidebar about the usage of "best friend," Karkat pretty much outright says he's unreliable when it comes to who his best friend is at any given moment LOL - he spends pre-murderstuck insisting Sollux is HIS best friend. King of mixed signals.)

EB: who is gamzee? CG: HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND. EB: really? i thought terezi was your best friend. ... CG: GAMZEE WAS MY VERY GOOD FRIEND, WHO WAS THIS GOOFY LOVEABLE BULLSHIT CLOWN UNTIL HE WENT PSYCHO AND KILLED SOME PEOPLE. I LIKED HIM A LOT. CG: I DON'T KNOW, I GUESS MY BEST FRIEND IS REALLY JUST THE GUY WHO I HAPPEN TO BE FEELING MOST SENTIMENTAL TO AT THE MOMENT, IS THAT A FUCKING CRIME.

If we take Hussie's statement that Gamzee lied when he chased Vriska (whom he doesn't like) away from his horn pile -

GAMZEE: VrIsKa hEy yOu wAnT To uH… VRISKA: What? GAMZEE: ShIt, I WaS AlL GoInG To aSk iF YoU WaNtEd tO HoP In tHe hOrN PiLe fOr a bIt oF MoThErFuCkIn sHuTeYe, BuT… GAMZEE: I DoN'T ThInK I WiLl cAuSe i'm pReTtY MuCh sCaReD Of yOu, SoyEaH. VRISKA: Aww. ::::)

Then it stands to reason he's also lying about being scared of Jack so he can prevent Eridan from providing Karkat with emotional support:

CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter CA: put kar on TC: UuUuH, i cAn't rEaLlY ThInK AbOuT InTeRvEnInG, tHe bLaCk fRoWnInG MoThErFuCkEr kInDa sCaReS Me

So, personally, signs point to Gamzee always having been a lot shiftier and meaner than he let on.

Naturally, that begs the question of why he's pretending to be nicer and higher than he actually is (not that he isn't high, but he's definitely more cognizant of what's going on than people both in- and out-of-universe give him credit for). Well, the answer to that is pretty simple: it's because he loves his friends and wants to get along with them.

You like to chat a lot with your pal Karkat, who is usually pretty cranky, but he is your BEST FRIEND. You have a lot of OTHER GREAT FRIENDS who you also like a lot.

Gamzee's story pre-murderstuck is a pretty tragic one about a kid who never got to learn proper socialization and has whacked-out religious beliefs, whose neglect from his lusus has left him with deep loneliness, who desperately wants to fit in with his friends, especially the lowbloods, and therefore feels the need to hide how pessimistic and angry he actually is under the guise of drug usage and not retaliating against the constant digs they make at him.

I also feel like I have to specify that Gamzee was already a pretty angry, mean, troubled kid prior to Murderstuck, because it helps to clarify his actions after being influenced by Lil' Cal. The nonlinear nature of the story kind of confuses the sequence of events, but it seems to be as follows:

Dave blasphemes against Gamzee's religion so hard that Gamzee has a total crisis of faith.

Gamzee has a breakdown and gets so pissed off that he oopsie-daisy'd a jester puppet into John's room on Prospit.

Gamzee, with his faith lost ("and now i don't know what to think about the spiritual fantasies i had"), Tavros dead, and thus in a very emotionally fragile state, is contacted by Doc Scratch and given instructions (likely to kill his friends and paint his wicked pictures in their blood). At some point during this, he falls under Lil' Cal's influence, too. As every person we've seen under LE's sway has very compelling, natural reasons for acting the way they do, I think it's better to see Lil' Cal's influence as influence and not mind control. It brings out the worst in its victims, but only what was already there.

This seems to give Gamzee a new belief system to replace/supplement the old.

TC: i've been kicking the wicked ignorance on this shit. TC: BEEN MOTHERFUCKIN SLAUGHTERING THE WICKED IGNORANCE, BRO. TC: all up in lifelong denial about my calling. TC: AS A DESCENDANT OF THE HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATORS. TC: we are higher than you, brother. TC: WE ARE HIGHER THAN MOTHERFUCKIN EVERYBODY. TC: honk. CG: GAMZEE CG: PLEASE NO TC: and now i'm the last one, so i finally motherfuckin understand. TC: I FINALLY GOT MY MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTAND ON TO WHO THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS ARE. TC: they were always both me. :o) TC: AND ALSO MOTHERFUCKING ME. Do:

Remember, his original belief system actually emphasized equalizing the castes - in death, anyway. It also never specified that the Mirthful Messiahs would be specifically highbloods. The hint that Gamzee had internalized casteism was always there, but now that his belief system has been supplanted by this new one, delivered by Doc Scratch (the story's Devil figure), his casteism becomes full-blown:

GAMZEE: heheh. GAMZEE: CHECK IT THE MOTHERFUCK OUT. GAMZEE: it's the peasantblood. GAMZEE: HEH HEH. GAMZEE: fuckin heh. EQUIUS: D --> Peasantb100d EQUIUS: D --> Is that a joke GAMZEE: if your blood. GAMZEE: IS A RUNNING MOTHERFUCKING GAG. GAMZEE: then soon. GAMZEE: IT WILL BE RUNNING. GAMZEE: through my motherfucking fingers.

TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know? CG: UH... CG: NO? I MEAN, I WOULD NEVER EAT IT, BUT TC: THEN GET MOTHERFUCKIN SCHOOLFED ALL ABOUT THE WICKED NEWS, PUNCHLINE BLOODED MOTHERFUCKER.

Basically, the religious boy had a crisis of faith and was tempted by the Devil into becoming his servant - into desiring utter oblivion for everyone except his own continued existence within the one doing the destroying, rather than a paradise of love, friendship, and hope. And this new faith is what carries Gamzee through to the end of the comic:

KARKAT: HE STARTED GETTING SO UNBELIEVABLY SELF SATISFIED AND PIOUS, LIKE WAY MORE THAN HE EVER WAS BEFORE. KARKAT: LIKE HE'S JUST SO COMPLETELY CONVINCED HE'S FOUND HIS CALLING, THAT THIS SESSION IS THE GATEWAY TO THE PROMISED LAND WHERE HE'LL FULFILL HIS DESTINY. KARKAT: HE'S SO CAUGHT UP IN HIS IDIOTIC SCHEMES HE COULDN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME ANYMORE. KARKAT: WHATEVER. AT LEAST HE STOPPED KILLING PEOPLE.

So where does that bring us WRT the fake god-tier ensemble? Well, god-tiering in general is kind of a metaphor for becoming an adult - SGRUB/SBURB sets out for its player a quest directly tied into their maturation into adults, and god-tiering is (normally) supposed to sit right at the end of that questline, a semi-permanent state achieved at the end of adolescence. Characters who DO manage to god-tier without having naturally reached that point in their questline, especially Vriska, Dave, and Rose, have struggles that deal directly with "growing up too fast" - Vriska with the expectation that she be a vicious murderer, Dave with having never addressed his trauma and abuse, and Rose with having missed out on a loving relationship with her mother because she insisted on being more mature than her.

Gamzee's relationship to Caliborn is that of a parent:

ARANEA: It is just as well that cheru8 parents a8andon their offspring. Raising such a child 8y the familial standards of any race would 8e a monumental challenge. ARANEA: Nevertheless, it would seem there were those who tried. ARANEA: Details in my research suggest our villain had a num8er of acolytes oper8ting in the shadows, preparing for his arrival.

Kurloz also directly states that Gamzee's role in their religion is to serve and mentor their young lord:

KURLOZ: I COME BEARING THEE FINAL JOLLY ACCOUTREMENT MY FAITHFUL INVERTEBROTHER KURLOZ: THY BARDLY REGALIA IS DONE AND FUCKING DUSTED BY THE SPECIAL STARS THEMSELVES KURLOZ: ON THIS DAY THE DARK CARNIVAL REJOICED AND SAID IT WAS MONEY KURLOZ: NOW BRING TO LIFE OUR WICKED RUSE WITH APLOMB MY NINJA KURLOZ: OUR LORD AWAITS YOUR SERVITUDE AND TUTELAGE AT ONCE

And even beyond the religion aspect, Gamzee would take this job mother fucking seriously...

... Because his own parent failed him. See, we tie it all back to the beginning! Gamzee putting together a shitty fake god tier outfit is because he wants to be a good parent to Caliborn, an adult figure he never had in his own life, and god tiering is symbolic of that. And I think the saddest part is, he still didn't really manage to do that... because, perpetuating the neglect he faced from his own lusus, he wound up locking the two in a room and leaving them alone - possibly out of exasperation.

ARANEA: We will pro8a8ly never know who these scurrilous conspir8tors were. 8ut it is evident that at some point the cheru8 was locked in a room, either out of exasper8tion, or for its own good, until it was old enough to enter the session.

Like, I feel kind of bad for Gamzee, y'know? Especially since, alongside Eridan, he's one of the trolls the fandom seems to understand the least, and his story is also one of being failed by his family, society, and friends. This winds up turning him towards the worst parts of himself - the religious fundamentalism, the casteism, the emotional isolation - and away from the good - the fact that he loved his mother fucking friends, enough to wish upon them eternal paradise.

#homestuck #gamzee makara #homestuck analysis #homestuck lore #idk what to tag this #also i give up on fixing the colors. sorry

[kenslilove]

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Pet, Pup, Mutt.

preview. arlong park is loud and rowdy this evening. Things get turned up a notch when Arlong decides to show of his pet to the whole crew.

ft. Arlong x fem!reader

wc. 3k

W. NSFW MINORS DNI, monster fucking technically, exhibitionism n vouyerism, bdsm elements (arlong has you shackled, collared and gagged), teasing, humiliation, dry humping, fingering, mentions of squirting, mentions of dp, foreshadow of fucking.

an. Blame the live action one piece of this. I have not stopped thinking about Arlong. He’s so— his voice is so— 🫠 I have no excuses. Y’all are in for a ride with this one fr. I’m still dizzy over it. Reblogs, comments, and feedback would be greatly appreciated 🫶

“Full house.”

There’s a chorus of cheers, as well as a few grumbles and grunts from fishmen who regret their choices when betting on anyone other than Arlong himself. Berries are flicked onto the table one by one, and Arlong has a shit eating grin on his face as Kuroobi gathers the coins for him after a quick and subtle click of his tongue.

He would have done it himself, if anything, Arlong loved the cold feeling of berries against his smooth flesh, but his hands were occupied with your flesh instead.

One large palm smoothed over your back. Talons circling the back of your neck, following the path of your spine, all the way down to the curve of your rear where his webbed hands decided to rest a few moments, savoring the squish of the plump skin before repeating the motions again in reverse. It always made you tense a little, chest pressing into his own and making the shackles around your wrists clank and click a little as your fingers subtly squeezed the fabric of his shirt.

But you didn’t make a peep.

Couldn’t even if you wanted to. Arlong always kept his pretty pet muzzled at times like this. The silicon bone was a bit shiny with your spit, your teeth held snug against it making the corners of your lips a bit rosy. Instead, your head lulled a little closer towards the crook of his neck, the smooth and subtly slippery skin always making your skin feel just a tad damp.

“That’s what, three rounds? Let’s call it quits before I bleed you all dry.” Arlong croaks his words along with a chuckle, one that you feel rumble all the way down his chest and right up against your own.

It leaves goosebumps on your naked flesh, making something of a blush rise on your already flushed cheeks. Flushed from being in his lap, flushed from being chained, collared and muzzled, flushed from being naked in front of the crew of fishmen.

And yet, no one dared to look in your direction. Their gills would be ripped through cleanly by Arlongs saw before they even had a chance of getting so much of a peek of your body that Arlong kept on blatant display.

He liked showing off his belongings, but Arlong never shared.

“One more!”

“The nights young!”

“A couple more drinks too!”

Arlong couldn’t help but shake his head at his own crew’s rowdiness. It was collection night after all, and all the fishmen’s pockets were full and ready to be played with. When his palm reached your ass this time, he decided to squeeze hard. Hard enough that sharpened nails left crescents in their wake, your back arched in the slightest, and your breath stuttered on the way out of your nose.

“Alright alright. Kuroobi’s dealing. I need a drink.” And one was placed before him just like that. Finally, Arlong spared you a glance. All intentions to reprimand you in some way for letting that silly muffled sound escape you.

“Tch, runnin from me? Get back here, little girl.”

But he found you looking right back up at him. Eyes a bit glassy, lower lip wobbling just the gentlest bit over white silicon.

Arlong’s smile turned devilish, big enough that sharpened teeth back to his molars were revealed to you. It made you shiver over his lap, the muscles in your thighs twitching ever so slightly.

“Hm?” His voice was low, the subtle growl in his tone vibrating all the way down his chest. “What is it, pet? Why do you look at me with such eyes? Are you sad?”

There’s already mock sympathy in his voice, his free hand finally joining in on holding you. Large palms cup your ass cheeks, adjusting you with ease, having you straddle his lap instead of a single thigh. The chains clank as you’re moved, but you still gripped onto his shirt. You shake your head, eyes getting a bit more glassy as you try to focus.

But it’s hard when his hands are massaging your ass, pulling you closer into his lap before allowing your body to slouch.

Forwards, back, forwards, back.

Arlong knew exactly what you needed. He could tell from the moment he felt the heat of your bare pussy against his crotch. You were almost dripping already, surely leaving a dampened spot on his pants. He could tell from the moment he looked in your eyes and saw your desire, your *need* basically swimming there.

But, Arlong liked playing with his sweet, little human pet. So he raised a brow, playing curious as he continued to grind you in his lap.

“Answer my question, mutt. What’s the matter with you?”

Your lips twitched around the gag. You knew better than to make another peep, but the friction that started to form between your legs had your eyes fluttering, lashes feeling heavy as you continued to look at him. Curling your fingertips into his shirt you decided to move your hips in the rhythm he set, finally feeling your clit catch against his crotch.

It makes your breath hitch slightly.

And it makes Arlong laugh out loud.

His hands bring your movements to a halt, and all you can do is huff from out your nose, the little bit of pleasure leaving your body almost as quickly as it came. Normally his fishmen would be the first to laugh along with him, but this time they’re eerily quiet. It makes your cheeks flush a little, embarrassment burning over your skin, pin pricking with tingles as you remember exactly where you are.

“Hm. So you’re desperate. Is that it, pup? Can’t wait until a game of poker is over to fulfill your needs? Humans are such spoiled little creatures.”

“Men.” Arlong barks, and all the men around the table finally look back to him. Your back straightens, heart picking up in pace from behind your rib cage.

“The mutts all worked up.” Arlong smacks your ass, hard and swift, the sting making you jolt, biting down hard on the gag to keep your squeal locked in your throat. It’s only when Arlong clicks his tongue that all the fishmen finally acknowledge your presence.

In that same moment, Arlong moves you with ease. Before you can even really process it he switches your body, your back now pressed against his chest. Your arms are pulled over your head, the chain keeping the cuff together looped around the back of Arlong’s neck.

Keeping your arms up, keeping your chest exposed. Your eyes widen a bit in shock, a muffled squeal slipping past silicon. On instinct, you attempt to close your thighs, only to have Arlong’s palms pull them apart, goosebumps rising along your flesh as the cold air hits the dampened skin of your cunt.

“Who wants a little show, hm? Did you know that humans whine and whimper like animals when they’re experiencing pleasure?” There’s a chorus of murmurs along the fishmen, along with a few snarls and laughs that makes you start to tremble. You turn your face, cheek pressing into the familiar expanse of Arlong’s chest and you try to shake your head, give him a sign, anything—

“Be a good girl.” His voice comes in low and hot, breathed up in a growl against your earlobe. It makes your whole body freeze up, goosebumps forming along the expanse of your skin. “And sit pretty. You’ll do that for me won’t you, pet?”

This was cruel of him. Crueler than usual. He subjected you to a lot, but never like this. So exposed and under the eyes of all the fishmen on his crew. And despite that, his voice satiated something in your head. Your lashes lowered, dusted along flushed cheeks, and catching a glimpse of his piercing gaze that only ever softened for you, you nodded.

His praise came in the form of a large hand cupping your chin. His forefinger and thumb momentarily stroked your jaw, a silent but clear sign of his happiness with your obedience. Almost as soon as it came the gentleness was replaced when he jerked your head back forward, his underlying gruffness always shining through in the way that he laughed, in the way that he held your face forward towards the eyes of many hungry fishmen.

You trembled.

Arlong grinned. Grinned so large that his sharp teeth glistened under the neon lights of Arlong Park.

“You see, pups like her are easy.” He speaks to his men, right over your head as if you weren’t even in there. But his hands knew exactly where to touch and where to go. One large hand hooked under your thigh, and even though he knew he wouldn’t have an issue with your legs clamping shut, he couldn’t help but haul your leg up, exposing you even further. His other hand, to your absolute delight and absolute horror, finally touched your pussy.

But he spread it apart with two thick fingers. Your only relief was that his webbing covered the most desperate part of you, your clenching little hole. Fluttering hopeless just from his simple touch. There was a chorus of cheers, hollers, whistles even from men who glued their hungry stares to your blossomed flower, now pink and shiny and throbbing a bit. You couldn’t help the embarrassed whimpers anymore, they seemed to slip freely now, muffled under the gag. Your hands balled up into fists on either side of Arlong’s shoulders and your chest stuttered with your quickened breathing.

Humiliation wracked over your body, at being looked at like a piece of meat, which is exactly what you were to these men. But something else coiled up in your tummy, something that tickled at your clit the moment Arlong pressed the smooth pad of his thumb against the longing bud. Something else that made you a little limp, made your nerves a little less tense as you allowed yourself to ease back into a familiar chest, a familiar lap.

Arlong was cruel. But he was your owner after all.

“They’re so reactive, these little humans…” Arlong's voice was almost in a sigh, something dreamy, like when someone speaks of their favorite toy. His thumb starts to circle your clit finally and you huff, lashes fluttering and back arching just the slightest. “Any little thing and they let out noises like that. Or sometimes…”

Gentle caresses turned into a smack as his fingers came together and down onto your pussy. The first slap was to get a reaction out of you. A jolt, a jostle of chains, a squeak that despite the gag, comes out loud and clear. The dribbling of drool down your chin. The second slap was to get another chorus of growls from the fish men, this time it was sharper, pressure directed on your clit so your puffy pussy would flutter and squeeze around the air like it was begging to be stuffed.

“They sound like squealing pigs.” He said through a dark snicker, two fingers sliding into your hole before the fluttering could stop. You could feel his groan through your back, how it vibrated through your body. He pumped his fingers at a steady pace, the squelch of your cunt raising brows, causing tongues to swipe over sharp teeth.

“And despite how small they look…” He spoke with intent, as if he were teaching, as if he knew more. And he had his men hooked, eyes trained on the sight of your sweet pussy which they always wanted to stare at, but never got the permission or pleasure to do so.

Not until this moment.

“They can take so much.” A talon traced along your sweet spot and you quivered, hips twitching as a form of permission to roll into his palm. Another trace was your non verbal cue from him and you rolled your hips forward, grinding down into the palm of his hand to find your own pleasure.

“Look at that! She’s fuckin his hand!”

“A desperate mutt!”

“Humans are so pathetic!”

“Hmmm.” Arlong mused, the words of his fishmen making his grin grow larger. That, and the fact that with each insult that got thrown your way, your pussy would hug his fingers in a tight embrace. “My pup can take *both* of my cocks— it’s a tight fit, but I’ve trained her well.”

“Whore!” The sharp cheer cut through the antics like a knife. Arlong’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked the fishman in the eye. It got eerily silent, just the sounds of your arousal smearing over Arlong’s fingers as he stretched your cunt open. Although you knew by now that you couldn’t hide, you slunk back into Arlong’s embrace, something like a whimper of distaste being muffled into your gag. Arlong took notice and pet along your sweet spot, almost as he was soothing away whatever bad feelings the word seemed to leave you with.

“My whore.” Arlong corrected, the growl in his tone nothing short of feral. You didn’t know this specific fishmen by name, but you had a feeling you never would. In fact, you had a feeling you’d never see him again after this moment.

The tense moment faded away as Arlong picked up the pace of his fingers, even slipped in a third. Your slick started up bubble around his digits, hole stretching and accommodating for a tight fit that made your head spin in the best of ways. Your head fell back against his shoulder, mewls of delight slipping through silicon as you rolled your hips to match his quickening tempo. “And when they come, they make quite a mess…” That really had the crew excited once more, eyes lit up and cheers sounding Arlong on. It stroked his ego in the best of ways, making him growl in delight, teeth grazing at your pulse point before he murmured right up against the skin of your earlobe.

“Make it pretty, pet.” His fingers speed up even faster, the slick sound mixed with his low, gruff tone making your tummy tighten. Give ‘em a good show like the good girl you are.”

Although it’s muffled, Arlong knows without a shadow of a doubt that a “yes sir” is being spoken by you. Your obedience made his cocks twitch in delight, it had always been a trait of yours that he found so very pleasing, so very maddening at the same time. With your eyes squeezed shut, and Arlong’s booming laugh you come undone.

Your back arches, tears fall from your clumped lashes. Your thighs tremble with the impact of your orgasm and your pussy clenches so tightly around Arlong he’s convinced your walls take on their exact shape. And you squirt, of course. Droplets of arousal that coat his palm, your small amount of trimmed pubic hair, and your quivering inner thighs. There’s smears of it along Arlong’s cargo shorts and you fall slumped in his lap after a few moments, once the storm of your high dies down and you're left a bit boneless, shaky and breathing deeply through your nose to even your heartbeat.

The fishmen are cheering. Like this is the greatest show they’ve ever witness. Some even clap, some howl like animals. Others shamelessly adjust themselves, darlingly, and Kuroobi keeps a mental note of each one for his boss.

He knows better than to fantasize about his boss’s favorite toy.

It’s Arlong’s fingers slipping between the tight leather band of your gag that brings you back to reality, reminding you of the fact that you just had one of the best orgasms in your life in front of the entire crew. The silicon bone pops out from between your lips with one good tug and drool follows it as it falls to rest between your collar bones. Strings of spit glisten on your chin and your lips pulse at finally being free, but all you focus on is sucking in shaky, large inhales into your chest.

“Good little girl.” Over the laughter and excitement of his men, his words are saved for your ears only. He tips your head back, has your lips close to his own, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not in front of his men.

That’s something he saves just for you, in the privacy of your bedroom.

It makes your heart, along with your pussy flutter. Before you can get out a word, Arlong slips his fingers from you with a slick pop. With ease he moves your small body once more. This time your back is met with piles of cold berries, corners of playing cards dug against your spine and ass. The shackles clink against the wood of the table and before you can really process it Arlong has your thighs hooked over his shoulders, his crotch pushed up against your still trembling cunt and grinding into it harshly.

“Might as well show you all how well she takes a load.” He says it so casually, and his men roar in agreement, hungry growls of excitement echoing. And all you can do is blink up at Arlong lazily, the familiar feeling of one of his cock heads nuzzling up between your soaked lips.

He looks right back down at you, and despite the hunger there, the feral drive they shine to claim you in front of the crew, you know that he’s watching you in another way too. He’s watching you as an owner would their precious, precious pet. He smoothes a hand over your tummy, smearing your arousal left over there, as well as tracing along the bulge that his cocks are soon going to make.

“And you’re going to be good, aren’t you, little girl?”

Everyone already knew the answer, even you. Especially Arlong. Which is why he fucked two loads into you in front of the crew instead of one. He had to show them just how good you really were, right up to being fucked absolutely brainless.

PROPERTY OF KENSLILOVE. DO NOT REPOST, COPY OR BRING ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM‼️

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #op fanfic #op smut #op live action #arlong #op arlong #arlong x reader #arlong x y/n #arlong x you #arlong smut #arlong fanfic

[jazzyquarterblugs]

𝐏𝐏𝐓𝐉: 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Time to show ya'll the Altercanons for The Smiling Critters!! :D

(I have already looong posted them on my twitter but again for the Tumblr peeps I will post them here! :3)

From Oldest to Youngest!

Enjoy!

Bubba Bubbaphant!

The smart and probably the most mentally stable one out of the bunch (more on that later-) being the oldest isn't really easy when you've got 7 younger friends most of which love to go on rowdy fun adventures, nonetheless he is always with them every step of the way whenever he can! (Mostly because he needs to keep them from accidentally getting themselves killed 💀)

His Talent

Bubba is capable of creating balls of light and is able to change the intesity of light sources around him, in combat he can create lightbulb shaped items and throw them at to flashbang opponents, disorienting them and giving him the advantage, though this uses up his own energy and so he needs to think carefully about how many he creates, or else he will likely pass out.

KickinChicken!

The self-proclaimed cool guy of the critters. An daredevil who's always put looking for ways to have a lil fun, all the while making Bubba slowly lose his patience 😅 even though he may come off as an arrogant jerk to others, Kickin actually cares a lot about his friends and others more than he likes to admit! Just don't get on his nerves or he will make your life a living hell whenever given the chance!

His Talent

He can whip out three items of his choosing, whether it'd be a simple screwdriver or a flat out atomic bomb, all of which seem to follow a common theme 💀 though he is only lmited to three wishes and after using them all up he'd have to wait for an one hour cooldown before he can create more items again.

CatNap!

Not a very talkative critter, neither is he really stable in ANY WAY to begin with, he went suddenly missing once for 3 whole weeks and came back never the same, for 9 whole months has he never ate, drank or even slept, and it's only a matter of time before one day he finally collapses in on himself...

His...Talent???...

He is able create sleep-inducing red smoke, making whoever is nearby inhale it and fall into a Deep Sleep... (it doesn't kill them dn)

DogDay!

The leader of The Smiling Critters! And CatNap's best friend! This lovely sunshine is always ready for an adventure and bring a smile to everyone's faces no matter who they are! He is always standing up for what's right, willing to put his friends before himself.

His Talent?

His body glows a range of red to yellow whenever experiencing intense emotions, the hue and the temperature of his body depending on how intense the feeling is, if it is too intense his body is capable of burning the skin off of anybody who attempts to touch him.

PickyPiggy!

The nature-loving and diet obsessed one of the group, she absolutely loves the wonders of mother nature, even owning an vegetable garden herself! She loves to eat but always makes sure she stays healthy when doing so! Though sometimes she is so entranced by eating food that she often forgets to keep up with the others and finds herself confused, she always feels like she has an reputation to uphold considering her father is a well-known cook in Critterville, to make things even less easy she has 12 younger brothers to take care of!

Her Talent

She is able to take and storage items within an infinite pocket dimension like a personal inventory in her pockets, though she needs to have actualy pockets for this to work, luckily she knows how to sew!

Hoppy Hopscotch!

The physically active one of the group! And DogDay's beloved little sister! This rambunctious lil rabbit is willing to take on a challenge if it means having fun! Though she is really accident prone so she often gets herself hurt! (Pretty frequently actually-) but even so she doesn't know how to back down! While impatient and loud, she is happy to protect her friends from danger!

CraftyCorn!

The shy and soft-spoken one! She's pretty timid but has an incredible creative side to her! She loves to create all kinds of art but most specifically loves to draw! Even though she may not have had the best first start of her life, but after moving into Bubba's home and becoming part of The Smiling Critters, she realizes she feels right at home.

Her Talent

She is able to mend and shape paint however and whatever she wants it to be! Whether it is colorful wings of freedom or another way to paint, she needs to have paint at her disposal though.

She is also capable of magic of her own! But due to her previous living conditions she was never able to tap into her gift and discover the wonders of unicorn magic all that much, though luckily Bubba has enrolled her to equestrian classes to help her with that problem! <)

Bobby Bearhug!

The sweetest and youngest one out of the group! She was found alone outside near the Critters' treehouse, ever since then Bubba has taken her under his wing and has been taking care of her since, it is unknown what happened to her parents it has been assumed that they had just abandoned her.

Her Talent

She is able to sense the true intentions of a person's heart, helping her know who is worthy of trust or not, she is also able to sense the emotions of an individual though this can be physically and even mentally exhausting, making her needing to take frequent naps to gain her energy back.

Aaaand that is all I have for today!

I hoped you enjoy these Altercanons and if you have any questions regarding them or this AU feel free to ask in my ask box! :3

(repeat users are okay btw!)

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime au #poppy playtime jealousy #poppy playtime jealousy au #jealousy au #pptj #smiling critters #smiling critters au #bubba bubbaphant #kickinchicken #catnap #dogday #picky piggy #hoppy hopscotch #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #Bobby is a baby in this AU yes #Why? Cause I can >:) #But it's also because it makes up for an funny dynamic between Bubba and Kickin plus for story purposes! #DogDay and Hoppy are siblings #Kickin is a trans man cause I said so 😘 #Picky is always getting distracted by food so she forgets what is going on sometimes #She also has OCD #Crafty is a sweet unicorn who does not deserve to have a mother like hers #Bubba is literally the only one with the least amount of drama in his life #And CatNap is my comfort character! <3 #I hope this doesn't upset all of y'all- ;-; #REMEMBER THIS IS AN AU!! #altercanons #altercanon

[ellielatinagf]

“Your hairs getting long”

Summary: Let’s pretend Dina, Ellie, and JJ are living happily ever after in Jackson:) Ellie and Dina exchanging conversations and a nice haircut for Ellie

An: believe me I’m working on Lacrosse ellie part 5 and I think part five will be the last chapter I just wanna figure out how I wanna end it LOL. This is a little bit of both Dina and Ellie’s pov. Enjoy:)

Warnings: angst????

*knock knock knock*

Dina slowly opened the door and peeped her head in the small room. Ellie whipped her head around to meet Dina’s gaze. Her expression softened when she saw those brown eyes. The same ones that light up her world, the ones that shine light in the darkness. Dina walked over to her now wife. Yup, wife. After Ellie got back from California of course Dina had to smack some sense into Ellie.

Flashback

“Are you hurt?” Dina squeeked softly. She held JJ in her arms. JJ was was already getting bigger. His hair was longer too. Thankfully Mr. Robinson, the Jackson Barber, had been patient in giving the little boy a haircut. Bless the poor man his eyesight has gotten a bit worse.

Ellie shook her head. She was too ashamed to look up at Dina. Much less look at JJ. She couldn’t bear the sight of seeing him more grown up. It would remind her of how much she had missed. The pain she would feel knowing he probably doesn’t remember her is unbearable.

Dina placed JJ don’t in front of her feet. She didn’t know why. She was so over flooded with emotions. Anger, sadness, relief. They all took stabs at her heart at the same time. JJ looked up at Dina confused but the looked at the sunburnt, green eyed, auburn woman.

Now Ellie was forced to look at the child. Her eyes weld up. His hair was longer. And choppily cut too. It wasn’t Dina who’d cut his hair, Dina does a better job. He resembled Jesse. Her heart ache. Her mind flooded with pictures of her last moment with the child’s father. She took a deep breath. Ellie opened her hand to reveal a small toy elephant. Ollie. She’d won it at the Jackson festival so long ago and had kept it. She remembered how JJ used to sleep with it at night.

JJ looked at what was in this mysterious woman’s hand. He smiled and waddled towards her. The blue dusty color caught his attention and likeness. He touched Ellie’s hand and look at Dina for approval of the toy. Dina hesitated but nodded slightly. JJ let out a happy chuckle and took the blue elephant. Ellie couldn’t help but smile.

Dina slowly walked forward. Maybe this was a dream. The same dream she’d had for the last year. Ellie in front of her. Ellie’s dead. This isn’t real. Her mind is playing tricks on her again. It often does this. When she is putting JJ to sleep she’ll think she caught a glimpse of Ellie’s figure in the shadow. This is the same thing.

*Smack*

Not exactly how she planned to prove the realness of the situation. Ellie winced. She knew she’d deserved it. To be honest she deserved worse. She would have preferred Dina slap her 100 times than to remind her of how much she had screwed up.

Dina looked at the hand print mark on Ellie’s cheek. The damage was worse due to her horrible sunburn. Dina looked around for JJ. Now she wonders if she had made a mistake to smack Ellie in front of Jj. She catches the boys rowdy hair and looks in his area. He was playing with a random street dog. Clutching Ollie in his little chubby fingers. Dina sighed and looked back at Ellie.

Ellie looked at Dina with teary eyes. Dina noticed something different in them thought. They weren’t the same dead eyes she used to have. They weren’t dull. They were bright and glossy. And not just because Ellie was crying a tsunami.

“I know” Ellie whispers “I know nothing will ever make you love me again”. She sniffs her nose so she can make out more words. “I know than no amount of apologies will ever be forgiven from me”.

Dina felt sadness hit her.

“But I love you”

That was it for her. Dina cried. Hard. She threw her arms around Ellie. She finally felt it again. She felt that same bubbly feeling in her heart. She doesn’t want to admit it’s love at the moment. But she feels it. Ellie took the girl in her arms and held her. She held Dina and wouldn’t let go. She secretly promised to never let her go.

After that day Ellie agreed to stay in Joel’s house. She wanted to give Dina and JJ time to create that bond with her. She didn’t want to force herself in their lives. She slowly started seeing Dina more and more. And JJ loved playing with Ellie. Ellie always said ‘I love you’ to Dina. Even if Dina never said it she knew that with time, she would.

JJ loved Ellie of course. And if wasn’t because of the fact that she always brought him something after patrols. One day ellie found something that caught her eye. A shiny diamond. It had already been 2 years since she saw Dina again. Dina always invites ellie over and Dina had been saying ‘I love you’. It’s time.

That night after JJ got his presents Ellie bent down on one knee in front of Dina. Part of her was thinking it’s too soon and was about to fake tie her shoes. But she asked Dina and showed the ring. Dina was over joyed and cried if happiness. She couldn’t have said yes any faster.

Flashback end

“JJ sleep okay?” Ellie asked.

“For a six year old, he was okay” Dina replied. She bent her head down to kiss Ellie’s forehead.

“Are you gonna head to bed?” Ellie asked. She looked at the canvas in front of her. She wanted to do a still life drawing of bowl of fruit. Was it cliché? Maybe, but she wanted to improve her art.

“Once you do” Dina said. She looked at the auburn hair. It was long. Probably an inch or two below Ellie’s mid neck. “Your hairs getting long” Dina thought out loud.

“Wanted to ask if you’d cut it for me” Ellie hummed softly and looked at Dina.

“Not Mr. Robinson?” Dina asked resting her head on Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie groaned quietly and Dina chuckled. Dina got up and grabbed a pair of scissors and a comb. Ellie put down her art supplies. She could finish tomorrow. Dina started to part Ellie’s hair and began cutting.

“Can I take JJ hunting?” Ellie asked.

“Don’t you think he’s a little too young?” Dina answered nervously.

“I only wanted to take him to the chicken field” Ellie asked. She didn’t want to throw the boy in the forest with clickers and wild boars. She probably would be hesitant for him to go out there even if he was 30 years old.

“The one in Jackson right? By Tommy’s house?”

“Mhm” ellie confirmed.

“….okay” Dina approved “but if either of you get so much as a paper cut, we’re getting food from the market for a year”. Ellie chuckled.

“You have my word babe” Ellie smiled.

“Are You scheduled for patrol this weekend?” Dina asked.

“Yeah, you need something?” Ellie asked.

“Do you think you can find some more shoes? His old ones will grow out soon” Dina said.

“That’s what happened when you feed him so much” Ellie chuckled.

“He’s a growing boy” Dina rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault he liked my cooking”.

“Can’t blame him for that. Unless it’s pasta.” Ellie chuckled. She smiled after she took a jab Dina by mentioning at the time Dina had burnt pasta sauce and let the water boil so much it overflowed. It wasn’t entirely her fault. In a way. Dina just took a nap.

“Don’t piss off the one with the scissors” Dina replied playfully tugging Ellie’s hair. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to prove her point.

“Still ate it” Ellie laughed.

“That’s what she said” Dina replied. Hanging around Ellie so much was severely effecting Dina’s humor.

After Dina finished with Ellie’s haircut they both had taken a shower together. Ellie laid in bed next to Dina and faced her. The two shared a kiss and locked eyes.

“I love you” Ellie said. Dina felt happy. Ellie had never been one to say I love you first. Not in a serious way that is. After she came back however, it’s like her motivation had changed. And Dina was glad that Ellie’s family is her priory.

“I love you too” Dina replied. Ellie sighed. The feelings of immense love was reciprocated. Everything was okay. Finally, she was at peace. She could breath again. Ellie could sit and stay in her mind and not feel herself be destroyed. She could stay like this forever.

Ahhhh thank you so much reading!!! Let me know if you enjoyed it! I loveeeee writing one shots and as much as I love writing Ellie x reader! I just Love writing Ellie x Dina! Uhhh not proofread.Have a great day and remember your all amazing! Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Taglists: @bready101 @vqxen @gato-chino @vampyangel @a-little-bit-of-everybody @abbysbraids @Lillylynne11 @Lively-blues @Yurixxiii

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #ellie x dina #dina tlou #dina woodward #dina the last of us #dina x ellie

[lumpofbird]

sunshine birbs

#they were very warm and content in the afternoon sun #birb #budgies #parakeets #baby animals #rowdy peep #cuddle peep

[rreskk]

CALMING YOUR NERVES

Summary: You work hard for your job but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel nervous. You do. Being a stripper and “dancer” held a great strain to your self-confidence but that bastard of a boss helped ease you to your feet with a little form of encouragement.

TW: Smut

Pairings: fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 1875

You were backstage, the sound of distant 90s pop blasting from the main rooms speakers, not to mention the rowdy men waiting for the performances of each individual lady. It wasn’t your first time, but you were still nervous. Always has been. Dancing in front of drunken guys who looks as though they’re about to jump that boundary between the chairs and stage – it was stressful. You swore you’d turn grey before you could ever leave this place.

While you were anxiously waiting with your hand holding onto your neck, the sound of the main office opened up. All the other dancers were waiting behind the main stage near that office. They all made noises of disgust and surprise when the man exited the office, pushing past them with purpose.

Heavy footsteps followed. You knew it was Trevor. He was the “new” boss who somehow took over the managers role? Made no sense since Leon hadn’t of made any signs of resigning that past month. You didn’t bother looking up as your past encounters with him, which was unwilling, went as smooth as pins and needles. He was insufferable. It was like you were having a conversation with a hungry beaver. His eyes don’t lie and his mouth was non-stop bullshit.

“Hey.” Trevor huskily murmured when passing your dressing station. He was about to open the side-door before turning around, his eyes slowly approaching up your legs. It stopped at your chest. You felt his eyes burn into your cheapish costume, worsening your internal anxieties. You turned stiff; lips sucked in, hands holding each other for support.

Noticing your discomfort, he grunted. “What’s gotten your panties tied up?”

Judgement dripped from his words and you looked down in shame.

“Nothing.” You muttered.

It was obvious you were lying. He snarled to himself then turned his body, facing you. You noticed the dancers kept gazing over at Trevor, none of which looked like a good thing. They all looked impatient. They wanted him to leave so they could work without his perverted eyes and touchy fingers.

“Why you standing like you just pissed yourself?” Challenged him. He was mocking you.

“I’m just getting ready.” With that, some dancers snickered at the scene in front of them. A menace of a boss and the world’s most neurotic stripper, what more could they want? It was humiliating! You grew more annoyed than anxious.

Trevor rolled his tongue with his mouth open to a slight peep. He was inspecting your body and then, finally! Finally, he made eye-contact. Immediate electricity. Your skin crawled and he didn’t blink for them painful seconds of holding this unconscious staring competition.

You looked away and he smirked. He took a step back, routing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and throwing one into his mouth, the stick balancing between his cracked lips. Ironic as he began to light the cigarette with the “no smoking” sign on the wall behind him. While the smoke flushed out of his nostrils after a long inhale, his rough fingers offered the cig to you.

“Have one.”

Usually people would ask if you wanted one, but Trevor? No, he demanded you to have a small puff at his smokes. His hand shook as he outstretched them.

“I shouldn’t – “ You were kindly silenced when he placed it between your lips. Them gruffy fingertips grazed your cheek accidentally, feeling how burnt-up you were with nerves. Your face scrunched up since you could taste the saliva from when he took a smoke from it not even a second ago. Trevor watched you shyly take a few strides with it. It was much needed.

“Don’t be stressing your tits off.” He creepily grinned and snatched the cigarette from your lips. Nonetheless, the dancers were walking out one-by-one and your heart began beating 10x more. You saw them enter the stage from over his broad shoulders.

Trevor frowned when you weren’t paying attention to him. While smoking his cigarette, he grabbed your waist without consent and ushered you further from the main stage. It took you by surprise. You grabbed his wrist and attempted to ease him off without seeming rude, but he was persistent.

“Hey, you chose to do this job. Why are you having a meltdown over it?” He complained and held you against your dressing table, his eyes fucking every inch of your face. “Strain anymore and you’ll pop an appendix.”

“I’m fine. It’s just stage fright. I’ll get over it when I’m out there.” You sheepishly leaned your head back against the mirror since he was too close to comfort.

Trevor licked his lips and stared at your neck with a dazed expression. He didn’t say anything for a minute, but nodded his head with approval. You thought he was approving your attitude but no. Following his sights, he was nodding approvingly at your chest. So badly you wanted to slap him silly but you couldn’t risk getting fired. No chance. You needed this job and he knew it.

He leaned over and burnt the cigarette in the ashtray beside you before humming creepily. “You’re a beautiful gal. Don’t be nervous. Your beauty needs to be seen, hm.” That grumble adventured deep within his throat.

“Weren’t you about to leave?” You panted out of pure denial of this situation.

“I was,” His smirk widened, “But it weren’t anything important. Was going to see the show for myself but, hmmm, I’m kind of busy right now. Don’t you think?”

That grumble. It was so low, you felt it vibrated through his chest and onto yours. If you breathed in sharply, you’d suck in his nicotine breath that was mixed with whatever substances he injected or snorted into himself. Everyone knew about his friendly hobbies. One time your co-worker wanted to sign a vacation form and walked in on him snorting cocaine from another strippers breast. She went on vacation and never returned. You couldn’t blame her.

But he always led on people, and it made you wonder why. What sort of black magic does he put into his fingers or lips? It was already making an effect since you weren’t pushing him away anymore. You were still uncomfortable but his body warmth calmed you down.

“When are you on?” Trevor asked with his raspy voice, hands still on your waist.

“Soon.” You whispered back.

“When is soon, sugar?”

You nibbled your bottom lip and went to look away but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to keep eye-contact. He then asked again with more annoyance. The annoyance and sternness of his voice increased with his grip on you.

“15 minutes.” Hesitantly, you told him.

He made a noise of satisfaction. Then suddenly, out of the blues, his arms grabbed your hips and properly placed you onto the dressing table. Your body knocked over the various cans of hairspray and make-up bags, a mess appearing on the floor but it was out of your consciousness.

“Trevor – “ Your lips wobbled and hands gently grasping his shirt collar.

That pervert chuckled and slowly kneeled. He glanced up at your body with that sexual smirk. You knew what he was going to do. You knew it.

Luckily the majority of the dancers were performing. Only a few remained, and although they were witnessing this soon to be sexual interaction, they decided to ignore it since they don’t get paid enough for this.

“I know a good warm-up for you,” Trevor teased as he rubbed his cheek against your inner thigh, lifting up the skirt, “You’ll be having no more nerves…”

Just like a muscle memory and reflex, you clenched your legs together and whimpered when he moved the panties aside. Now his hot breath began penetrating you before anything else could.

“Shit, Trevor…” You gritted your teeth and held the back of his head. His black magic had caught you.

“Oh yeaahhh. Gimme you, sugar.” He licked across your clit generously before inserting more action, moving down until your pussy was in danger of his mouth.

He wore you like a necklace. A necklace of flesh and muscle. His neck, his airways forcibly narrowed, differed the moment your thighs cuddled him like a meaty mask. He grabbed onto your stomach and dived in further, his tongue caught in your web. You grew wet of arousal and his saliva. You felt him slurp, moan, gurgle up the excess of your cunt with no remorse. It was like you were his last supper. You felt the appreciation work through his lips and mouth the moment your legs opened and wrapped around his shoulders, trapping his face within your intimacy where he felt home.

“Oh, God…” You unconsciously stuttered as he skipped the foreplay and went straight to your present pleasure. Looking down from your position, you saw nothing but his forehead and thin hair. Everything else was hidden amongst your legs that captured him. With slight encouragement, you pushed his head more into you, his tongue slithering deeper and deeper into your pussy. You leaned onto the dressing table with your shoulders and unconsciously cried out.

Trevor laughed with pure enjoyment while eating at your cunt. He nuzzled his nose against your clit and reached his tongue the deepest, making you a whining mess while the show goes on. You had no less than 5 minutes, but being “occupied” by your own boss made it less anxious. By all means, you forgot all about it. There you were, groping your own breasts through this cheap costume and having an old man wish prayers upon your body and legs. He caressed your stomach and murmured words you could barely understand – he was too suffocated by your cunt.

“Argh! – “ You’d hear him moan as you vastly approached your orgasm. Your breathing increased and you couldn’t help but snatch at his hair, pulling, tugging, yanking. He makes pained snarls but deep down, you knew he liked it; he leaned into your fingers and his yells would turn into soft moans.

“Trevor, fuck!” Squalling at God himself, you arched your back and gasped for forbidden air while you came all into his dirty, sloppy mouth.

His hands maimed your tummy as they loosened and fell back onto your hips, then thighs, then calves. He licked up the remainder of your cum before leaning closer to your flustered, breathless face and grinning. You thought he was going to kiss you. You had lifted your head in anticipation but he stood there, inches away, grinning, letting his nose move against the tip of yours.

That fucking tease.

“Put the show on for me, girl.” He whispered and gently slapped your thigh. That bastard counted down the time you were on. The words made you glare at him, but he just laughed and adjusted your panties back over your used cunt. Like you had the ability to walk. Trevor guided you to your feet and had to hold onto your elbows with that entertained smirk.

“Fuck you, Trevor.” You managed to say with a glare.

“I’ll take you up on that offer…” His hands fondled your ass when you walked closer to the stage entrance. “After the show,” He whispered, slapping your backside again, “Get to it, sugar.”

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta v #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #grandtheftauto5 #grandtheftauto #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction #my fanfic

[yuzukult]

yours, but not yours 04 || csc & reader

title: yours, but not yours 04 pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, smut, fake dating!au, bad influence!seungcheol, nice guy syndrome!namjoon, mechanic!seungcheol wc: 7.1k summary: when a nice guy gets too overbearing, you’re stuck with the option of having a fake boyfriend. warnings: profanity (as usual), mentions of death a/n: hi im back :D

He hasn’t said a single word. 

Not.

A.

Single.

Word.

It causes you to grow anxious; shivers run up your spine as you watch him outside of your, well, his garage. Frankly, you’ve never watered your plants before—if any of these are plants, some of them don’t resemble anything you could name off the top of your head. You briefly recalled Chaeryong nagging about how you somehow manage to treat the weeds better than the actual greenery you have, but in your defense, it was a bit hard to differentiate them! With a sigh, you turn the knob to shut off the water and toss the hose aside after filling up the watering pot. Just like Seungcheol in your thoughts, it overflows just barely, spilling from the sides.

That night didn’t really go as you’d hope it would. 

Seungcheol—of course, it pretty much goes without saying—slept beside you without much of a counter argument. He didn’t say much, he didn’t probe, he didn’t pry, and what felt worse was that he never asked for an apology. Instead, he slept quietly on his side of the bed, the soft snores pouring into the cool, summer night, leaving you lying flat with your eyes open, gaze tracing the tiles of ceiling above. He continues to say he isn’t mad at you, but the vibe you got from him that night states otherwise. 

Breakfast the next morning is rowdy with your friends, and despite all the events, Seungcheol remains doing a good job of being your boyfriend by sitting next to you at the table, dousing syrup on your pancakes, and calmly wiping the table when you knock over your glass of water. Of course. Seungcheol puts on a good show as always. Your friends don’t suspect a fake relationship; all they see is a sweet loving boyfriend who’d do anything for you. 

“You two are cute,” Chaeryong nudged you as you were dabbing your shirt and Seungcheol was already shuffling through your bag for a clean one. “Treat him well, and keep him around. I’m beginning to be Team Cheol instead of Joonie,” she winked playfully. Everything was falling into place—people were slowly opening up to the idea of you being more with someone who wasn’t Namjoon, even though it required a fake relationship to get there. The plan is working–but why do you hate it?

When you arrive back home from that eventful weekend, Seungcheol still doesn’t bug you as usual. He doesn’t smirk, nor does he lean on one of the cars he’s been working on, rag on his shoulder with a soft chuckle and the words, “Headin’ out, love?” don’t escape from him. The six times you’ve passed the garage, no smart comment peeps out of him. 

You roll your lips. Why hasn’t he said anything?

The clang of his wrench against the concrete rings your ears, startling you in the midst of the stillness. Why didn’t he come out when he heard your footsteps coming down the stairs? Why hasn’t he gone out of his way to sneak in a sleazy pickup line with those alluring eyes of his? 

Puffing your cheeks, you skim the area nervously. There’s this weird tightness in your lower stomach, a mixture of compression and whirling, and the longer you continue to deny that his avoidance is affecting you, the worse the symptoms get. Maybe you should… make the first move. You upset him, and if anything, the only person who should be apologizing is you. But… it’s Seungcheol. He’d never make you do something you don’t want to. Even if the right thing to do is to apologize. 

Inhaling in a deep breath, you drop your little plastic watering can (the one you used to bathe your weeds in), clenched fists by your side as your chest juts out barely to showcase your confidence (there isn’t a lot of it).

Okay. One step. Two steps. Three steps—why the fuck are you taking so long? But each time you try to quicken your pace, it increases along with the beats in your chest. Your palms grow clammy in unison to the heat rising to your cheeks, stomach queasy because you’re finally going to confront Seungcheol and yet you aren’t sure what to say or do. Do you say sorry? Do you… talk to him about his feelings? What are you supposed to do?

Just a couple more steps.

Taking in another breath, you squeeze your eyes shut briefly. Whatever happens next might determine whatever it is you have with Seungcheol—do you want more? Or are you just concerned about his perception of you?

“Seungcheol—” 

“Honey!”

Seungcheol slides out from underneath the car the same time you turn your head to the familiar voice.

God. 

Fuck.

Why now!

Your mom stands there—with her little curls and a wide grin, bags of food at her side as she gently puts it down onto the asphalt. Waving eagerly, she’s already rushing to you with her arms wrapping around your frame, smacking a huge smooch on your face.

“M-Mom?”

Her hands cup your cheeks, frowning along with your pursed lips. “Jesus, hon. You’ve gotten so thin—have you eaten? Actually, don’t answer that, I’ve bought some stuff to whip up for you. Have you been ordering out? Also, I saw the weeds in your garden—”

“Mom!”you exclaim, and before you could stomp your feet, you could hear Seungcheol chuckle softly from behind.

Both of you divert your attention to Seungcheol. 

He looks… charming like this. You haven’t seen his face like this in a couple days after that incident, and just the sight of his smile is enough to swell your heart again. He wipes his hands onto the back of his overalls with a grease stained cloth over his shoulder, and he attempts to fix his disheveled hair as he walks closer. 

“Hi, um, I’m Seungcheol.”

Your mom glances at you before looking back at Seungcheol. “Oh, wow, you’re handsome. I’m the mom—of course. Are you two—”

“Yes—”

“No—”

You and Seungcheol lock eyes.

Did… Did you just tell your mom ‘yes’?

“I—” Seungcheol laughs, rubbing his nape shyly; how is it that his laugh is fucking sweet? He makes you feel like you’re drowning in honey—wait no, no. He’s not yours to fall for, and the reality is that you two don’t work well together. You’ve already established that. So why are you suddenly not okay with that? Scratch it. You need these thoughts out. “Sorry. I didn’t think she was ready to tell you yet but uh, yeah. We’re together.”

You didn’t think you were ready. 

But… together. Why does that sound so… comforting?

Something within you takes over because in that moment, you don’t even realize what you’re saying. You’re the one who told your mom that you’re together, not Seungcheol. Either way, Seungcheol plays in with the lie, yet another lie—one you aren’t so proud of—but at the same time… you sort of want to see how this plays out. Is Seungcheol a good enough fit for you in your mom’s eyes?

Speaking of your mom, she doesn’t forget to whack you a couple times as you cower in fear. “A-Ah! Ow! Mom! What’s that for?”

She grabs onto the top of your ear. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!” Your mom turns to smile at Seungcheol adoringly while still pinching your ear. “Come upstairs, will you? I’ll be making dinner for you both. Do you handle spicy food well?”

Seungcheol grins in amusement. “Yeah, I do. Lemme clean up a bit and I’ll see you two upstairs.”

“Ouch!”

“He’s handsome and nice, what’s wrong with you!”

Truthfully, you could list a handful of things, but when your mom flicks the side of your head again, all you could let out was a whimper.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” Not entirely a facade—how do you explain to your mom that you’re fake dating a guy that you might want to really date? Or do you not? You’re still trying to figure that out but that’s besides the point. Rubbing your ear with a pout, you step back from your mom. “Plus, you barely met him for like three seconds. How do you know if he’s nice?”

“Because,” she says, returning to the pot of stew, stirring it with a wooden spoon she found in your kitchen. “Do you see that?”

You furrow your brows. “See what?”

She points out to the window above your sink; shifting the sheer curtains to the side, you spot Seungcheol standing in the driveway—hair pushed back into a half pony because it wasn’t long enough, hands clean from the oil, and clearing his throat as if he’s practicing something. 

“He said he went to clean up but instead he ran down to the market a block away to grab me flowers.”

“Oh.” Oh is right. Was he always this sweet?

He’s at your front door in moments, a bouquet of flowers in hand with a twinkle in his eyes. “I got your mom flowers.”

You’re rolling your lips, forcing yourself not to give away a smile too easily. “What about me?” you ask, taking the daisies from his hands. 

“You said you didn’t like flowers,” he retorts blankly, lost with the joke going over his head. “I did get you a weed killer though. Why were you watering them earlier?”

… So, he noticed you?

Even when he’s clearly upset with you, he notices you. He doesn’t forget you, and you’re not wiped from his mind conveniently, especially when he harbors these feelings for you. He’s unconventional in how he expresses his emotions—what kind of guy gets a girl they like a fucking weed killer instead of flowers? But the simple act alone gave away more than you could ever ask for and it leaves you wondering what it’ll be like to actually be his.

“… They’re pretty.” Just like Cheol. 

“Mm, kinda cute you find something pretty that everyone sees as a burden,” he then gestures to your house behind you. “So, you gonna let me in or you gonna let me stand out here and eat outside your house like a bum?”

Cheol sitting at the stable with good posture and manners is definitely a view you didn’t think you’d ever see.

He’s polite; says his please and thank yous, offers to make some tea for your mom in your own home, and when she serves dinner, he’s overflowing with compliments. Everything she puts in front of him—he eats. Seungcheol doesn’t complain, in fact, he looks… happy. Eager to be here, almost like it wasn’t something he was dragged into, instead, as if he wants to be here.

After dinner, he’s at the sink as your mom hands over the dirty dishes. Rather than the grease and oil marks that tinges the color of his hands, they’re now bubbly, lavender scented from the dish soap you purchased on sale from the supermarket nearby. He tells her things about his life that you never knew about—his mom sells clothes for a living and his dad owns a business. Seungcheol doesn’t go into the details, but just that alone made you realize something.

You don’t really know Seungcheol.

And truthfully, you never really have him a chance to talk about himself.

He always made things about you… you, you, you. Everything was about your comfort, what you wanted, and how you wished to be seen with him. If you were to throw random questions about yourself in his way, he’d be able to answer in a heartbeat. No hesitation.

But you? You can’t say you know anything about him other than he likes fixing up cars, likes you, and was known to be a fuckboy. 

“Would you like some leftovers?” Your mom queries, scooping out the remnants of the stew into some glass containers. “A growing boy like you needs to eat.”

He chuckles; voice so ginger and delicate, almost like he’s more careful because he’s around her. “No, it’s all good. There’s always food at home for me.”

She clicks her tongue, insisting on him a couple more times, but Seungcheol is adamant about not bringing any with him, and eventually she concedes. The two of you walk her out by the time the sun begins to set, watching as she hops into the car with your dad who just came out of work. (Not to mention that menacing stare he gives Cheol before loosening his expression to his usually happy one, hollering something along the lines of, “let’s meet again soon, son-in-law!” You're beginning to think this was a mistake).

Once your parents’ car drifts with the sunset, so does Seungcheol. He turns almost immediately, making way back into the garage, ready to resume back to what he’d been doing prior to being called out to play pretend boyfriend. 

As he’s grabbing something from that crimson red tool box of his, he’s acting as if he didn’t just win an Oscar for the role of Best Significant Other. 

“Seungcheol.”

“Hm?” He responds, brows raised as he halts his movements. There’s no pet name that follows, just a hollow, open ended question without anything to finish it off lovingly.

You sigh; it’s slightly embarrassing for you to cave in like this, his name slipping from your lips, weighing in ambiguity because despite that brief intermission, you’re not entirely sure of what you’re going to say.

“I—” you clear your throat. “I… I’m sorry.”

Intrigued, he stands up straight with his arms across his chest. “You’re… sorry.”

“Um… yeah.”

He nods, lips half pursed before he licks his teeth with a smack. “Alright. Sorry for what?”

You blink blankly. What are you sorry for? That you hurt his feelings? That you were too quick to push aside his opinions and perspectives, that although he respected your boundaries, you didn’t do the same with his? 

Well, yeah. Everything. You’re sorry for everything.

“Do you know what you’re sorry for?”

“I—” You do, so why can’t you bring yourself to say it? “Cheol, please. I said I’m sorry, and I really don’t like this awkwardness between us. Can’t we just sweep it under the rug and call it a day?”

He scoffs. “What? Call it a day? I’m not mad at you, we’ve discussed this. I’m just a little bummed out is all. You can’t tell me what you’re sorry for, and it’s making me assume that you don’t know.”

“I do know!”

“Then tell me.”

Silence. 

You’re not even certain as to why you decided to leave it off as that or why you chose to remain quiet despite him wanting to know how you feel, but you did it anyway. There’s a part of you that’s a bit fearful; concerned that maybe everything Namjoon says about Seungcheol is true or that all you’ve assumed him to be ends up being exactly just that. How much of his outburst was genuine?

Would he love you better than the others did? And did he really develop those feelings for you? And if he did, this question continues to gnaw on your insides because well–why… you? What did you have to offer that those other girls he’d been with in the past didn’t?

But before you could swallow your pride and push your anxiousness aside, he’s already shutting the door of the garage. Slipping his arms into his biker jacket, he then adjusts the straps of his leather gloves and pops on his helmet. It wasn’t like he was in a rush or anything, but with all that extra time you had while he was gearing up, you could’ve said something… anything, really, but you don’t. You find yourself standing there, looking like a complete idiot because Seungcheol is nothing but patient for you, and yet you can’t offer anything in return. 

“I’m headin’ out, mkay?” He looks balked, torn even, because you don’t respond with a single word. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And you don’t say goodbye in return.

Watching him leave, you’re slowly hating yourself. Why did watching him ride off in his motorcycle hurt?

You hate to admit it, but Seungcheol is plaguing your mind. He’s like a disease you can’t find a cure for, and the treatment you’re trying to give yourself only seems to worsen the symptoms. You already apologized and he said he wasn’t upset—so why do you still feel like shit and why does everything you do remind you of him?

There’s no engine roaring from a Harley at 5:48am.

Your alarm is set to 6:00am, early enough for you to start your morning routine: brew coffee, shower, have a cup of joe while doing makeup, a brekkie snack, and get dressed for the day. But ever since Seungcheol came into your life, you’ve added an extra step before it all—groggily hop out of bed at 5:50am because you could hear his motorcycle rolling into the driveway. You’d peek out the window with tired eyes that barely peel open, finding yourself watching a man who stands on the asphalt with a cheeky smile that spreads across his face with a wave.

Today wasn’t one of those days.

In fact, when Seungcheol is running late, he catches you at the tail end of your routine, never failing to greet you with that look on his face. But oddly enough, even when you’re pulling out of your driveway, he’s not here.

A part of you grows worried. He’s never been like this before–and maybe, just maybe, you deserved this. What if Seungcheol decided that he didn’t want to rent a garage from someone who continues to lead him on, and that he wanted to call it quits? Or worse, what if something bad happened to him?

You should shoot him a text. Yeah, a text. Harmless, right? After all, he said he wasn’t mad. 

You [9:45AM]: are you still coming today?

Locking your phone with a click, you set it aside and inhale deeply. Seungcheol always replies to your texts, so it shouldn’t be too long before he responds back yet… right?

Spoiler: he doesn’t reply.

This is eating you up inside. When you get home, you check your phone constantly, every minute interval involves you pressing on the home screen and seeing nothing. There were a couple times you found yourself nearly jumping at the sight of the screen lighting up, only to be disappointed that it’s not his name on the contact.

As you’re boiling the water for your ramen, your eyes stray away momentarily to check outside. His bike isn’t there, and neither is  he. Why do you keep glancing out the window this often? You’re on edge, leg shaking underneath the table along with your fingers tapping against the wood as you're slurping your noodles, and hopelessly sliding down the notifications bar to see if he’s responded back to you.

Maybe you’ll look at his social media. Yeah, normal people do that, right?

Only that he hasn’t been active. No new stories, no new posts—nothing. Nada. 

Okay, well, maybe it’s best to keep yourself distracted! How about celebrity news? Love Island was on last night, so maybe you’ll skim through the twitter hashtags to see what people are saying. Trash TV is always a good diversion, so it may get him off your mind, even if it’s just for a little bit.

You get bored quickly—only because you keep thinking about Seungcheol. It’s been barely three minutes.

How about the news? That has a lot of interesting content—surely, it’ll be attention grabbing and you’ll forget that Seungcheol hasn’t responded to your text in like fourteen hours.

The first article that comes up on the local news website has your heart racing and dropping to your ass in seconds. It reads: DEADLY MOTORCYCLE CRASH KILLS FOUR PEOPLE.

F-Four?

Panic washes over like a tsunami. Seungcheol rides a motorcycle. Wait—let’s not overthink. That’s one of the flaws you have, and one of the things you planned to work on. Clicking on the article, you barely even have time to skim through when the fucking advertisement blocks the way. Tap tap tap, what the fuck do you mean 1 of 2 ads viewing and each is 30 seconds long? The love of your life could be fucking dead and you don’t even know about it—hold up.

Not the love of your life, he’s just a guy who rents the garage underneath your house. Slept with him a couple times, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be concerned about him.

Right. 

Right?

Fuck, skip, bitch. The first advertisement about pull-ups finally ends but another one pops up except this time it’s Hello Fresh? You thought that this whole thing with websites selling your personal data meant that it’ll send you ads that are more targeted to your preferences? What is this?

When it closes, you’re faster than the speed of light to read the article. Four people… dead… and one of them was a male that rode a Harley.

Seungcheol rides a Harley.

He rides a Harley! And you haven’t seen that eyesore all day. He hasn’t responded to your texts or even looked at the chat, and you know because he mentioned once that he didn’t know how to turn off the read recipient. Jaw tightening, you drop your phone and quickly snatch the hoodie off your coat hook. Maybe you should run to the hospital—the article mentions where the victims have been transported to, so maybe Seungcheol is there.

Oh, god, what if Seungcheol was there? What if he’s… dead? And you never even got a chance to tell him how sorry you are and why, how much you appreciate him, and… how much you liked him. Was this the end before the beginning?

You’re not even thinking twice. The only thing you grab is your keys, phone, and wallet; house slippers still on with your tiger print pajama bottoms, shirt that matches, and slippers as tears are streaming down your cheeks as you shuffle down the concrete stairs mounted to the side of your house. 

Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Seungcheol. If he’s gone, then the last thing you two exchanged was an argument. He continues to chase you, tell you how much he likes you, and in the end, you remain completely indifferent about his advances when in reality… you reciprocate his feelings. You’re scared, as much as you don’t like to concede to the realities of your vulnerabilities, but you’re afraid of getting heartbroken by Choi Seungcheol. Even so, now… there’s a chance that you won’t even get the opportunity to feel what it’s like to let him love you.

You’re sobbing. Wiping the tears that formulate in your eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie, the snot that flows from your nose is uncontrollable. It’s hard to breathe; you’re at the point of hyperventilating as you’re struggling to open your car door. Is Seungcheol really gone? Did you lose the last time to tell him how sorry you were for not respecting him and his feelings? Why does it feel like someone grabbed your heart from your chest cavity, tore it out and stomped on it?

Suddenly, a car stops at the front of your house.

Now isn’t the time! They need to get the fuck out so you can get the fuck out of here and see that stupid boy one more time.

That is, until you see that very stupid boy step out of the black Cadillac. It heads off into the distance, but Seungcheol stands at the end of your driveway, half unbuttoned white shirt, his blazer over his shoulder, and tie loose around his neck. Hair disheveled, he looks… tired.

Tired.

But not dead.

He spots you and his body straightens at the sight of you weeping. “Baby, are you… crying?”

You run. Dropping everything on the ground, you immediately rush to him. He stumbles back a bit on the impact, arms out in confusion, but he lets you embrace him. Face nuzzled into his chest, your hands clench onto the fabric of his dress shirt as you begin to sob quietly, full of gratefulness that it wasn’t him involved in the crash.

“Baby,” he reiterates the pet name, the one you used to despise in juxtaposition to the love you have for it when you finally hear it again after withdrawals. He reaches over to pull you closer, his nose digging into your hair before he pecks the crown of your head. “What’s wrong?”

It’s not the same without him, you’re beginning to realize, because hearing his voice in this way and not in short, blunt responses is something you’ve grown accustomed to and learned to adore.

When your heart slows down and your breathing evens, you lift your chin up to get a better look of his face.

Gaze soft, it’s warm like hot coffee or tea on a cold day. The two of you haven’t moved off the driveway, standing where you bolted to him. He’s so patient, so loving, and so kind, leaving you contemplating as to why you listened to Namjoon and those rumors in the first place. He’s a different person now, he even claims himself to be, but you’ve continued to be apathetic about his feelings. 

If he’s different now, you can be, too.

“I thought you were dead,” you say, mid-gasp as another tear falls out the corner of your eyes. He sighs worriedly, thumbs brushing against the highs of your cheeks before cupping your jaw. “I-I thought I lost you.”

“I’m not dead, love. Where did you hear that?”

Patting down your pockets, you freeze when you realize your phone is on the ground by your car. Sniffling, you’re almost on the brink of crying again. “I saw on the action news website—there was a Harley, two other cars, four dead—”

“Mm,” he hums, hand on the back of your head to bring you closer to him again. “Got it. We didn’t talk the whole day, you saw there was a Harley—”

“You didn’t answer my text, you ass!” you exclaim, fist slamming into his firm chest. He doesn’t flinch though, not that you expect him to, but after a couple hits, he grabs onto your hand. “You didn’t respond, and because of that, you led me down a spiral.”

Gingerly, he kisses your knuckles and rubs them soothingly as if you weren’t the one who hit him. “I’m sorry. My phone died. I didn’t get a chance to charge it with how hectic today was. I didn’t think I’d worry you.”

With another soft sniffle, you rest your head comfortingly against him. “What… What were you doing today?”

He lets out a heavy breath, almost like he’s been holding it back all day. “I… I’ve been at home. My mom hosted a gala, and well, she wanted her son there—but the son she expects me to be.”

You furrow your brows. “A gala?”

Seungcheol clears his throat and his body vibrates against yours. “Um, yeah. We hosted a gala at my house.”

You lift your head. “Your house… is big enough to host a gala?”

He scratches his ear with an awkward chuckle. “I—Yeah. It—It is. I… I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Stepping back from him, that’s when your fists tighten by your side, and you inhale in the deepest breath of your anxiety and release it from your body. He almost died today—well, not really—and you have come to terms that you can’t continue to do this because life is too short. 

“I need to talk to you,” your voice is stern, expression stiff, and Seungcheol crosses his arms in perplexity. Weren’t you just crying on him not long ago? His shirt is still wet with the mixture of both your drool, tears, and snot, so why are you so quick on your feet to be serious all of the sudden?

“Yes?”

“I… wanna date. Officially. No more of the fake dating stuff—I’ll tear up the contract if I have to. I wanna be your girlfriend—learn things about you like your parents and your home life, what you like and what you don’t like. I wanna be yours.”

Seungcheol remains quiet for a moment. Tongue poking the inside of his cheek, he doesn’t say much for a while. “I… I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

What?

Truthfully, you expected him to be through the roof. He’s been so persistent in trying to make you his, but why is it that when you determine that this is what you want, he doesn’t? 

“I… I’m sorry, I’m confused. Do you… Do you not like me anymore?”

He rolls his lips. “I… I meant what I said before. This,” he gestures between the two of you. “… is a test run. Not just for you, but for me, too. After that trip, I realized how much I liked you, that it was blinding me from my respect for myself. I like you—fuck, I really do, but I don’t know if I can be with someone who doesn’t… take things I say seriously.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and tips of your ears. Of course you ruined everything for yourself. 

“But um…” he starts off again, bouncing on the tips of his toes. “I don’t wanna end this, and I still wanna give it a shot. So… let’s continue to keep a front for your friends. I’m also still concerned for you in terms of Namjoon, since it seems that even when you clearly state you got a boyfriend, he still won’t back off.”

You purse your lips. Right, Namjoon. That’s how this whole thing started. Part of you wants to thank Namjoon; the reason why you two started this whole shenanigan was because of his nice guy syndrome—yet at the same time, you blame him for being that voice inside your head that makes you doubt Seungcheol.

“So… you don’t wanna date.”

“No, I do wanna date, I just… don’t know if I can if it means you’re not in it for me but because of this guilt in you when you found out that I might be dead.”

You don’t know what comes over you but you’re bold today. “I’ll chase you this time.”

Intrigued, Seungcheol quirks a brow. “You’ll chase me? Baby, you don’t needa do that.”

“I don’t need to, I… I want to,” you confess, fidgeting with your fingers. Why does he make you so nervous? Your palms are perspiring, causing you to wipe the moisture off onto the fronts of your pjs while tapping your foot against the asphalt. “I want to prove to you that I’m all in for this. I wanna chase you, and show you that I want this.”

He smiles softly but you can sense the pain behind the facade. “If you were in this, it would come naturally.”

Before you can squeeze in another word, he grabs you close again before benevolently pecking your forehead. “Don’t… don’t force yourself to try to love me. It should come easy, and it shouldn’t feel like such a burden. At least, that’s how it feels for me,” his eyes don't meet yours when he says that, and it leaves you queasy. Did you take too long to realize what you’ve always been wanting? “Anyways—I’m… Imma head into the garage. Kinda tired, just wanna sleep.”

As he makes his way to the garage, this time, you don’t let yourself hover in silence anymore. You already did it once, and you were contrite with the actions you didn’t take. “You… you can shower at my place if you want. Sleep on my couch. It’s cold tonight, I don’t think you wanna sleep down here.”

He stops in the midst of his steps. You’re ready for a no, mostly because even though he’s never turned you down other than just now, you think he still wants to keep his distance.

But Seungcheol is a simple guy who is hopelessly head over heels for you.

So it’s no surprise when he takes up on your offer.

Usually, the invitation up to an apartment with ramen included in the proposal insinuates sex. But for you and Seungcheol, it doesn’t mean that. 

He sits across from you at the dining table, hair slightly drenched with a towel around his shoulders as he rustles it against the ebony strands that drip. There’s something about Seungcheol after he showers—was it the freshness of the body shampoo scent that wafts the room when he walks in? Or was it the way he seemed more… homey. Like he wasn’t just some guy who hit on you whenever he got the chance, or some fuckboy with a smirk on his face, hanging by his motorcycle with a cigarette hanging at the corner of his lips. He reminds you of comfort.

Like home.

He wears the spare clothes he keeps downstairs, a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, disparate from the leather jacket he slips on for drives or Carharrt overalls for when he’s working on his car. In a moment like this, when he’s just casually twirling his ramen around his chopsticks with a piece of radish kimchi in between, he’s an epitome of domesticity. 

You don’t exchange many words, other than a soft ‘thank you’ that comes after him handing you a pair of chopsticks.Did you really hurt the Choi Seungcheol’s feelings? The guy who everyone seems to portray as someone without any regard for others, just getting his dick wet and drinking his nights away?

Saying another apology won’t solve anything, you’re starting to see that clearly now. Seungcheol is a man of action—which means if you want to prove anything to him, you need to climb out of that shell of yours to show that what you said wasn’t just something in a moment of panic.

You… like Seungcheol.

Maybe it’s his persistence or the amount of respect he has for you, but he hasn’t shown you any reason as to why you shouldn’t pursue him. With Namjoon, it came without effort to list all the things about him that only pushed him away from you. But Cheol… it’s harder to whip up something like that for him. 

You don’t hate the way he displays his affection for you. Although you’ve always been indifferent, constantly brushing it off your shoulder, he’s never gone past the boundaries of what you’re okay with. He even goes as far as asking, “You sure you want this?” before doing anything—sexual or nonsexual. 

You’re in this. You know you are, and it might’ve taken some time trying to break the barrier of Namjoon and Yubin’s opinions, the people who you valued the words from so much, but that moment where you jumped to the conclusion that Cheol died—without it, it wouldn’t have led you to be bold enough to take a step in this direction.

“How’s… the ramen?”

“Good,” he answers. Glancing up at you, he grabs a couple of the cubed radish and places it into your bowl. “Eat this with the noodles. It tastes even better.”

Seungcheol demonstrates by picking up one for his own, lifting it up to showcase it before twirling it into his plastic container to pick up the noodles. Giddily, he takes a bite with a crisp, loud crunch before gesturing to you to do the same. Without hesitation, you do what he suggests.

This… is it. 

It’s not the tangy flavor from the kkakdugi that awakens you, nor is it the gochujang drenching the diced pieces either–it’s this moment right here, the one that’s making you warm inside the pit of your stomach and the broth of the ramen isn’t the cause of it. To everyone, home is a different definition. Words could describe what it feels like, but to you, it’s the how. 

How your chest tightens when he looks up at you with an innocuous stare, like he’ll never hurt you and you’re the only one he sees. When he tears off a napkin from the roll, leaning over to wipe the splatter off the corner of your mouth, he manages to be the reason for your heart to stutter in its beats. Why didn’t you realize these feelings you’d been harboring? Why’d you let someone influence you when you didn’t care for their opinions anyway?

You like Seungcheol. Of course you do—he’s the guy that causes your blood to boil while at the same time cooling you down. He challenges you in ways that will help you grow and improve, for you to make your own decisions on what’s better for you, and it’s not him dictating that.

Seungcheol is good in spite of his past, but people are allowed to change. You weren’t letting him, and you didn’t even get him a chance to show himself even when he’s been doing it all along.

You want to do this. You want to do this, not Namjoon wanting you to, not Yubin wanting you to. 

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you’ve never been… anxious around Seungcheol like this. He’s different to you now; underneath the shitty florescent lights in your kitchen, or even in that one creepy closet with the flightering bulb that he keeps reminding you to change (then offers to do it himself), he looks… angelic and soft, in contrast to his devilish charms.

Does he really mean it when he says he still likes you? Even though you’ve hurt him—you, the one who was afraid of him doing the very thing you did? 

The question is practically answered when he kisses the crown of your head before grabbing your bowl before putting it in the sink with his. 

His back facing you, you can’t help but admire his features. His bushy hair, floppy ears that peek between his dark locks, his plump, pomegranate stained lips and how he wears the left sweatpants leg higher than the other. “Helps with ventilation,” he says, and it only triggers you to roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. 

If you succumb to your temptations right now, your arms would be wrapped around him from behind, face nuzzled into the fabric of his hoodie and inhaling in his natural scent. Maybe he’d even turn around, share that sweet, sweet smile of his before leaning in and—

Instead, you’re startled from your daydream because someone decided to slam their fist against your front door. Seungcheol doesn’t look over at you because your arms are hugging his frame, he does it because who the fuck would be knocking on your door like that at this hour? 

“Were you expecting a guest?” He asks, brows furrowed.

You purse your lips. “No,” and usually, your friends would give you a heads up before coming over. “I can go check.”

As you’re standing up from your seat, both your bodies freeze when you hear a whiny voice from behind the door. It calls your name—well, cries—and it’s a familiar sound that you wished you didn’t hear, because she’s ruining the night you finally get to be alone with Seungcheol without the fake boyfriend label and she’s the person who didn’t want you to be with him in the first place.

“It’s Yubin,” she wails, sniffling outside your home. “I had to climb up the stairs just to talk to you.”

“Mm, coming,” you call out before gesturing to Seungcheol to go to your room. In confusion, he angles himself to look at you with confusion written on his face. “Go, go,” you hiss in a whisper. “I don’t want her to know you’re here.”

He wants to ask why, but Seungcheol doesn’t and rushes to your room anyways with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and soapy hands. Again, Choi Seungcheol never fails to do what you want—other than be your boyfriend—but now isn’t the time to dig into that.

While swinging the door open, Yubin nearly tumbles in. She’s got only one side of her heels on, the other loose in her grip, hair disheveled and lipstick smeared to her cheek. Even with her singing a greeting from a distance, you get a whiff of the whiskey that saturates her breath. 

“Jesus,” you’re covering your nose with the back of your hand. “What the fuck happened? I needa call you an Uber or something—you can’t stay here like this, Namjoon might be worried about you.” You’re only really throwing her out because Seungcheol is hiding in your bedroom—and she’s your best friend. Sort of. Admittingly, the more you see her in a less-than-preferable state, the easier it has been letting her go.

Plopping on the couch, she whimpers like a lost puppy. “I need to talk to you,” she reiterates herself, body curved forward like a semi-circle. “It’s important.” 

“Mm, I’m sure it is,” you reply, but your eyes are glued to your phone. UberX? UberXL? Actually, maybe you should do this on her account in case she throws up in someone’s car and they leave a bad review. You still need five stars, after all, in case you want to go out drinking without your car. “Talk now, then. I’ll try to catch you a ride.”

Just then, her hand aggressively wraps around your wrist. Perplexed, you’re finally looking at her—glossy eyes with mascara that smears underneath, most of her makeup has faded away from a long day but she still looks like the same old Yubin. 

“No,” she gulps, this time with her bottom lip jutted out. “It’s about Seungcheol—it’s important.”

You slowly put your phone down. “Um, okay,” you back away slowly, a couple steps taken to keep your distance. “Shoot then. What’s so important about Seungcheol that you hauled yourself all the way here to tell me?”

She inhales deeply—it’s one of those inebriated ones where it’s choppy yet probably feels as crisp as the brisk cold air on a winter night. “You’re gonna need to sit down for this,” Yubin warns, and although you’re completely dumbfounded by the situation, you do as you’re told anyway and drop yourself on the couch beside her. Her hands grab yours, cupping them on top as her lips pull into a straight line.

“You’re not gonna love to hear this… but… the reason I don’t want you to be with Seungcheol…”—where’s she going with this?—''isn't just because of Namjoon. I mean, yeah, it does, but there’s more to it. You see, to me, Seungcheol isn’t your boyfriend. His label is something else, something more, and you’re not going to love hearing this but… you’re… the other girl.”

The… other girl? Isn’t that the term people use for the person someone cheated on with?

“To me. You’re the other girl to me. I’m in love with Seungcheol, and he’s in love with me, too.”

Hold on. Wait, what?

← last chapter | next chapter →

#seungcheol smut #seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #seungcheol x reader

[azsazz]

Taciturn

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Beta'd by @acourtofmenandthirst in which Baz asks why Knox doesn't make any noise.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,228

Fun Fact: @acourtofmenandthirst and I are actually sisters 🤭

_________________________________________

“Mommy?” A small voice pulls your attention away from the two babes sleeping soundly in the cradle before you.

Azriel had offered to help you put them to sleep, but with the rest of your children cuddled up to the shadowsinger on the couch, you knew there was no way that you could ask him to move. They were all so precious together, sipping on their warmed milk, listening to the music box your mate had brought home from his travels to the Dawn Court earlier in the week. You were surprised the rowdy second-born hadn’t already fallen asleep.

Baz’s head peeks around the door to your room. He doesn’t enter like he normally would, running right in without knocking. Your mischievous son had interrupted you and Azriel more than a few times, even with your mate’s shadows keeping watch on the little ones.

“Hey baby,” you greet softly. “Want to come in?”

Baz looks towards the bassinet for a moment, and normally the little boy wouldn’t hesitate to be near his newest siblings, only a few months old, but now, as he stands gripping the frame of the door in his fingers, contemplating if he should move inside the room or not, you begin to worry. You catch a glimpse of his shiny bottom lip, wobbling as he tries to hold back a frown. 

“What’s wrong little man?” you ask, moving from the peaceful babes towards your second born, prying the door from his grasp and crouching down before him. “Are you okay?”

Baz’s gaze meets yours and as soon as you open your arms for him the boy comes stumbling in, wrapping his hands around your head for a tight hug. He clings to you for a long while, so long that your legs begin to go numb from crouching, and he sighs in relief when you stand, taking him with you as you move towards the comfortable bed.

You sit Baz next to you, still tucked beneath your arm, waiting patiently for him to speak. His feet dangle off the large bed and he clasps his hands in his lap tightly. It would be adorable if you weren’t wondering what was going to come out of your child’s mouth.

He takes a large inhale when he’s ready, and you brace yourself as the question spills from his mouth. “How come Knoxie doesn’t cry like Malos does?” 

Your gaze flickers to the bassinet where your son sleeps. Since he’d been born he hadn’t made a peep, and after the first time you’d caught him wailing with no sound coming from the tiny babe, you’d taken him straight to Madja. 

The healer had assessed the child, you holding onto Azriel’s hand tightly as she did so, terrified for the newborn. His vocal cords had not developed correctly in the womb and thus the babe would never be able to speak.

You’d collapsed in a fit of tears once all of your children had been put to bed and you were alone with your mate, saddened that your youngest wouldn’t be able to use his voice.

Baz’s eyes are wide, little brows furrowed with concern for his smallest brother as he waits for your answer. You would have been able to see your own reflection in those shiny golden eyes, with the sheen of tears that threatened to brim over the edge, had the room not been so dark. 

You swallow harshly, hugging him closer. The thought of it still makes your throat raw with emotion, even though you know Knox will be alright, and his five siblings will do anything for him. It was his twin that used her voice for the both of them, though, screaming and crying if she were ever too far from her brother. 

There was hesitancy in your second born, one you noticed quickly when the older children played with their youngest siblings. He had been afraid to touch his baby brother, despite Wren’s gentle hand running over Knox’s soft hair and Zuzu prepared to manhandle her new sister, ready to dress her up like a brand new doll. While Jax, too, was silent, it was Baz who stood the farthest away from the babes, perched on Azriel’s lap. 

“Knoxie can’t cry. His vocal cords don’t work,” you stroke your fingers through his pitch black hair as he processed, but the little boy is still confused, doesn’t understand what that means. 

So he asks, “Why not? Everyone else’s work.” His head tilts to the side, resting his chubby cheek fully against your palm. 

“When he was still growing in my tummy with Malos, the part that makes you able to speak didn’t develop for Knox. There wasn’t anything that anyone could have done to help him in there, we didn’t know until he was here,” you explain gently, feeling a tinge of worry down the bond from where Azriel is downstairs. You push a soft feeling in return, letting him know that you’re okay.

“He won’t ever be able to talk?” Baz’s eyes are once again filled with tears and it breaks your heart to see him like this, looking between the cradle and you. He grasps onto your hand tightly. Your boy takes a deep breath, through his mouth like he’s forcing himself to stay calm - to not cry. His wings flutter behind him slightly, feet kicking off the side of the bed, disrupting the mist of shadows forming around him. 

“I’m afraid not, Baz,” your own eyes are filled with tears that you struggle to push away before your son can see them. You swallow the knot in your throat, forcing yourself to smile at him, because you felt your lips curling downward in a frown, one that you’re sure would have you sobbing if you allowed yourself to think about it for too long. 

Your son is quiet for a moment, thinking about what you’ve told him. His gaze wavers over his littlest brother, watching the sleeping bat scrunch his little fist in his sleep. His hands drop yours as he perks up against you, eyes bright and wings standing tall as he says, “That’s okay mommy, I’ll talk for him!”

A teary laugh bubbles from your throat as you hug him close. You know your children would do anything for each other and this only proves it. Baz is a fantastic older brother already. He loves being around his siblings and helping them navigate the world, teaching them all of the things he knows and keeping them safe; a protector like his father.

You nod, agreeing with the little boy who plants a wet kiss to your cheek before he bounds off the bed to see his little brother in the bassinet. He stands on his tiptoes to peer over the side of the crib, his growing wings flap rapidly, butt perched in the air as his wings take him only an inch off the ground. 

“See Knoxie? I can talk for the both of us,” he whispers, caressing his baby brother who’s sound asleep. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, I’ll always be here to keep you safe. I love you and Malos so much.” 

You wipe the tear that falls from the sight of your loving children, a wobbly smile on your face as you admire them. 

Everything will be okay, you know it.

#azrielxreader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel/you #baz #knox #azsazz #acotarxreader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar next gen #dad!azriel

[niiine]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

Characters. Kazuha, GN! Reader.

Synopsis. Only when you're invloved that Kaedehara kazuha can show a few things that he's usually not—like possessiveness for example.

Fluff, jealous Kazuha

Inspired by this. (With permission) Check this, it's soo cute.

Mentions of "Beautiful", and Kazu's jealous of a man.

NOT PROOF READ!!!

Saw this pictures from Mei_xxy! on tiktok and thought, I want a whole scenario with jealous Kazuha. Kazuha babyyy be home next patch alrightt? And also, 500+ followers 😳 Thank you for reading my trashes peeps. You make me happy!

“Ahh, the wind is telling me that we ar—”

“Kazuha if you don’t shut up, I swear I’m going to throw you out in the sea.”

The gentle lad sighed at his crewmate’s outburst—he can’t blame him though; he had been pestering him about just how far more it would take before the Crux reach Liyue for the past three hours now. He can’t help it you know; he misses you so much and for him, it’s nothing but agonizing.

Dragging his feet up the crow’s nest where he plans to spend the rest of the day before he can see you again, his heart sinking even further at the thought that it wouldn’t be any time soon. He drifts into a light slumber, begging for his dreams to about his beloved.

“Kazuhaa!” Beidou’s shout wake him from sleep, eyes fluttering open and somehow, sleepiness’ still vivid in the way he lazily closed them again. That is, until the captain announced their arrival at the land of Geo. A flash of silver plunged as he jumped from the Crow’s nest, his ever-calm face now adorned with giddiness. “Captain! I’m gonna go see (name)!” and he’s gone even before Beidou could wish him a safe trip. The wandering samurai can’t wait to be home.

The streets of Liyue’s still as busy as ever. Usually, he would stay away from rowdy environment. The excitement and chaos clashing in his calm demeanor, but right now, the idea of melting in your hands just seems stronger than any uncomfortable conditions. The image of him planting his face into your presence brought a serene smile into his porcelain face—really, only can bring out this side of him.

His eyes darted forward; he wants to buy something from Wanmin to bring with him for you. And that’s when he sees you, as dazzling and beautiful as ever—and…him. You’re talking with a man so happily, present as you exchange words that is inaudible to his ears. A frown decorates Kazuha’s face as an unfamiliar emotion tugged at his gentle heart. His feet move towards your direction, hoping to gain your attention. Surely you will be more excited and happier to see him than to talk with this guy, right? But his advances are drowned in the noise of the crowd, and probably because you and your companion are facing the restaurant, thus he remained unnoticed.

He cleared his throat, hoping once again trying to snatch your gaze. No avail.

His lips quivered. Come oon, your boyfriend’s here you know!

“Hello, Sir…” He trailed off, eyes drooped and an annoyed expression resting on his face. He wasn’t always like this, but he hadn’t seen you for days and now it looks like you’re not in love with him anymore (I live for dramatic Anemo boys supremacy. Regardless if it’s the ever so collected Kaedehara kazuha).

It even sends him in more turmoil as the man you’re talking to doesn’t listen when he called him out. The guy left him no choice. He huffed exaggeratedly as he caged your form between his strong arms, earning a cute squeak from you.

He looked over your shoulders and glared at the man, “Excuse me. They’re my partner, return them to me now please.” Before burying his red face in the crook of your neck. You understand right away what’s happening, your hands finding its way to your lover’s silver locks. A soft, gentle laugh escapes your lips.

“Kazuha, he’s my brother”

“What?”

#genshin kaedehara #kazuha kaedehara #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara x you #kaedehara x reader #kazuha #kazuha fanfic #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x you #kazuha x gender neutral reader #genshin impact kazuha #kazuha x y/n #yaepublishinghouse #yae publishing house #genshin impact headcanons #genshin kazuha #genshin impact x reader

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Trevor Zegras (Part Twenty-Two)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: twenty-one

next: twenty-three

for those who missed the asks/blurbs: y/n grew up with the hughes’s and when they moved to michigan, she moved with them and basically adopted her!

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 5TH

PREGAME

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, and 8,722 others

yourusername welcome to my pregame penalty box update show! our (my) beautiful trevor “z” zegras currently stands at six games since his last penalty! i refuse to go back and count, but i do believe this is just the third time he has done this this season!

homie g has YET to see the number seven this season, so let’s see if he can get this accomplished tonight against the oilers! best of luck, my love! i believe in you!

i love you, always🧡 (p.s. peep j-baby and z-baby at the kraken game last week!!)

tagged trevorzegras and jamie.drysdale

view all 112 comments

jackhughes 😈💸

yourusername 🤠🫠

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes do you know what this means?

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras jack is referring to their no-so-secret bet they have, and y/n is referring to her old nickname “howdy rowdy” and how he’s going to die when she wins

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes i’ve known you all since i was sixteen, how did i not get this?

jackhughes @/trevorzegras hugheslepathy

user1 i wanna address the “homie g”

trevorzegras i love you, forever🧡 i’ll get to seven for you, babe! heck jack

yourusername YEAH HECK JACK

lhughes_06 YEAH HECK JACK

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 i’m not buying your favorite snacks

yourusername @/jackhughes i’ll tell nico

trevorzegras tell him! tell him! tell him!

jackhughes @/yourusername (insert bad word here)

user2 he can do it!!! (please do it i also have bets)

POSTGAME

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 9,717 others

yourusername WELCOME TO MY POSTGAME PENALTY BOX UPDATE SHOW: JACK OWES MY $200 EDITION!!!!!!!!!!! (that is 11 exclamation marks)

trevor “y/n’s boyfriend” zegras has done something that has never been done by him this season— he has gone seven games without a penalty! i am over the moon right now! i cried! real tears! ask jamie!

i’d also like to say welcome back dad and rico! you two have been sincerely missed in your absences! and dad scored the only ducks goal tonight! i jumped up and down! ask jamie! i’m sorry about the loss tonight, boys, but hey! at least mcdavid didn’t score ;)

i love you, always, z-baby🧡

tagged trevorzegras

view all 344 comments

trevorzegras thank you, baby! i love you, forever🧡i’m over the moon that i get to call you mine ;)

yourusername awww ilysmitb, ya sap <3

_alexturcotte ilysmitb??

trevorzegras @_alexturcotte that is between me and y/n and me and y/n only!!😤

_quinnhughes @_alexturcotte i’ll tell you later

user1 Z DURING INTERMISSION>>>

jamie.drysdale both things are true. she did cry at the end of game, and did bounce at troy’s goal. what she failed to mention was that she tripped over the coffee table mid bounce😂 (PROUD OF YOU Z!)

yourusername TRAITOR

jackhughes pay up, drysdale

yourusername W H A T ?!

jamie.drysdale @/jackhughes ooo

yourusername @/jackhughes you bet i would cry in this game?!

jackhughes @/yourusername no, i bet you would trip

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername i had faith in you!!

_quinnhughes @/jamie.drysdale that was a mistake

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale that was a big mistake (THANK YOU, JIMMY)

user2 HE DID IT OMG!!! LUCKY NUMBER 7!!

_alexturcotte 🎰🔥

trevorzegras 💯💯

yourusername stop

trevorzegras @/yourusername so you and hughesy can do it but we can’t?

jackhughes @/trevorzegras we’re special

trevorzegras @/jackhughes you’re something

user3 AS OF TODAY, APRIL 5TH, TREVOR AND QUINN ARE TIED!!!

jackhughes this is fine. congratulations i guess.

trevorzegras you’re so sweet to me

yourusername that was a beautiful sentiment, jacky boy

_quinnhughes it’s on, zegras

trevorzegras good

yourusername fight! fight! fight! fight!

jackhughes fight! fight! fight! fight!

user4 at least it wasn’t another 6-0 loss😭

tterry19 i don’t know when i became dad but thank you? and congrats, z?

trevorzegras she calls shatty mom

yourusername i’m an orphan

trevorzegras she’s lying

_quinnhughes not by much

shattdeuces @/yourusername i accept

tterry19 @/yourusername dani says okay

yourusername AHH YAY!!! MORE PARENTS!!!

#penalty box series #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras insta edit #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes #jamie drysdale #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes #alex turcotte #anaheim ducks #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

[tailoroffates]

Writing Tips #1 - the 5 senses

Here is a little list of different words you can use to describe the 5 senses. Below I've included many examples of words that may be synonymous with a sense or sensation that writers commonly want to describe. Hopefully now you won't sit there for an hour trying to think of a different way to say "the smell was smelly..." :D

Sight

Admire, examine, eye, eyeball, focus, gape, gawk, gaze, glance, glare, glimpse, glower, goggle, inspect, look, mark, note, notice, observe, ogle, peek, peep, peer, perceive, recognize, review, scan, search, see, sight, spot, spy, stare, survey, view, watch, witness.

Sound

To hear - catch, detect, eavesdrop, listen, overhear. A sound - din, noise, note, resonance, sound, tone, tune. A pleasant sound - angelic, harmonic, harmonious, mellifluous, melodic, rhythmical, sonorous, symphonic, symphonious, tuneful. An unpleasant sound - boisterous, clamorous, deafening, ear-piercing, ear-popping, ear-splitting, grating, monotonous, noisy, piercing, raucous, riotous, rowdy, shrill, whiny.

Scent

To smell - inhale, scent, sniff, snuff, whiff. A scent - aroma, fragrance, odor, perfume, scent, smell. No scent - deodorized, odorless, scentless, unseasoned, unscented. Good smells - appealing, delightful, divine, enticing, exquisite, heavenly, luscious, mouthwatering, pleasing, rich, savory, tantalizing, tempting, well-seasoned, zestful. Bad smells - awful, detestable, disgusting, fishy, foul, gross, loathsome, malodorous, nasty, nauseating, noxious, odious, offensive, putrid, rancid, rank, raunchy, reeking, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, sickening, stinky, tainted, unappealing, unpleasant.

Taste

To taste - lick, sample, savor, sip, slurp, taste, test. A taste - bite, morsel, mouthful, nibble, sample. Pleasant tastes - appetizing, delectable, delicious, delish, divine, flavorful, flavorsome, luscious, mouthwatering, palatable, pleasant, pleasing, rich, savory, scrumptious, tantalizing, tasty, well-prepared, well-seasoned, zestful. Unpleasant tastes - bland, burnt, detestable, disgusting, distasteful, dull, fishy, flat, flavorless, gross, insipid, loathsome, nasty, nauseating, offensive, oily, rancid, rank, raunchy, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, savorless, sickening, tainted, tasteless, unappealing, unappetizing, undesirable, unpalatable, unripe, unsavory, unseasoned, vapid.

Touch

To touch - brush, caress, cuddle, dab, embrace, fell, frisk, grab, grasp, graze, handle, hit, hug, itch, nudge, pat, paw, pinch, poke, rub, scratch, smooth, snuggle, squeeze, sting, strike, stroke, tag, tap, tackle. Rough surfaces - bearded, brambly, bristly, bumpy, bushy, chapped, choppy, coarse, craggy, grainy, gritty, hairy, jagged, knotty, leathery, lumpy, matted, prickly, ragged, ridged, rocky, rugged, sandy, scraggy, scratchy, stony, tangled, unshaven, wiry, wooly. Sharp surfaces - barbed, briery, horned, jagged, knife-edged, needlelike, peaked, pointy, pronged, ragged, raggedy, razor-sharp, ridged, rivetted, serrated, spiked, spiky, spiny, splintery, tapered, thorny. Smooth surfaces - creamy, flat, flowing, fluid, flush, glassy, glossy, polished, satiny, silky, sleek, slick, slippery, smooth, velvety, waxy.

I hope this little list helped, and that your following days are blessed to be the best! <3

#writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writerslife #writeblr #amwriting #creative writing #writers of tumblr #TOF