#wait so this is completely a nude drawing class?

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

you are not gonna be able to guess what lucky circumstances I managed to accidentally get myself into this time lmao I secured myself a spot at a nude drawing class without even knowing it was a nude drawing class. it’s absolutely fantastic tho! the class is usually super popular and spots are hard to get so I was really lucky

#I’m just gonna pop by every few weeks spam reblog a bunch of posts and then yell about my personal life #without responding to any messages or anything else #and that’s gonna be my blog for a while ig #sorry! #but yeah it was rly funny when we entered the room and my friend and I set up our supplies and just chit chatted with them #and some other students #and I suddenly was like #wait so this is completely a nude drawing class? #and everyone was like #classic Gigi move #in my defence: #I assumed it was a general drawing class #cause the course description had mentioned it being a basic class #'from nude drawings based on models to portraits’ #so I was aware it would be a part of it but not the entire class #so yeah #I’m facing my demons this semester #in a really mild way #cuz I actually do not enjoy drawing and painting that much #it’s why I rly struggled in all of my drawing classes #so when I picked classes for this semester I was like well #the description explicitly said everyone even absolute beginners were welcome #and it was about personal skill development rather than already having skills and being graded on them #which is why I thought hm I should do this and stick to it #if I stick to it I will definitely build my skills and if I don’t do that at uni I certainly wont do that at home #sorry for thw long ramblings #I am trying to be healthy and also responsible this semester and stick to actually going to classes #and not chickening out in them and staying home because I have weird compulsive thoughts that keep me from leaving the house ✨ #and I also want to be diligent and hard working this semester #gigi babbles

[evergreenfields]

Model Behaviour

Your neighbour Captain Price is looking for a hobby, you suggest an art class.

Little does he know you’re the nude model.

Rating: fluff, swearing, flirting, descriptions of a nude female body.

Pairing: Captain Price x fem!reader

You’d started talking to your new neighbour, John, when he was moving in, you watched him bring boxes in throughout the day, his jumper coming off to reveal a t-shirt over a bulky chest. He didn’t tell you too much about himself but you had gathered he was military. He sometimes wore a hat and had excellent posture, standing completely upright and then shifting his weight to one leg, relaxing. You sometimes caught him on his way back from a run and you would chew the inside of your mouth at the sight of his tight grey jogging bottoms, he probably didn’t look in the mirror before he left the house.

You saw him again in the post room, he had a healthy stack of brown envelopes.

“That’s a large parcel, need a hand, love?” He sauntered over, marvelling at the long parcel.

You try to hoist it up, “it didn’t leave the floor, did it?”

John doesn’t waste a second, he lifts it effortlessly.

“I was heading up anyway.” He’s already out the door.

“Oh thank you,” you rush to open the doors for him and you catch the elevator.

It’s a tight squeeze and you face each other. Only the tall box is between you. You reach past his trim waist to press floor five, avoiding eye contact and ignoring his cologne.

“Are you liking the area?” You ask him, trying not to look at his strong hands on the box, dark hair covers his tense forearms.

“It’s charming. Quieter than I expected.” He smiles, you feel like he’s alluding to his job but you don’t want to pry.

“It is very quiet here. If you do find yourself free on a Thursday evening, come down to the Evergreen Library, I do life drawing there.”

“An artist? Well aren’t you full of surprises.” The elevator dings on your floor and he gestures for you to go first. You hold your palm against the doors.

“You go at your own pace, there’s wine too.” You say as you unlock your door, expecting to take the parcel over the threshold.

“I can pop this in your living room if you like?” He waits for your go-ahead, you find his respectfulness thrilling, it makes you want to do filthy things to him. You unlock your door.

“Thank you, near the table is fine.” He puts it on the floor and taps it for good measure.

“So Thursday, is it?”

“Yes, you don’t need to bring anything, just yourself.” You smile warmly.

“I’ll do that.” He smiles, rubs his hands and steps aside to leave, “goodnight y/n.” You try and make space in your narrow hallway but he still has to side step out of your way. He smells like beechwood.

“Goodnight John.” You try his name on for size, you like how it sounds in your mouth. You close the door and the giddy energy over takes you, you dance to your bathroom to get ready for bed and think of what you’ll wear on Thursday.

~~~

Hands on his hips, John wonders what one wears to a life drawing session. Currently in a towel slung low on his hips from a shower after his run, he decides on a casual plaid shirt and black jeans with boots.

“Steady on John, you’re out of control with your wild evenings ey.” He chuckles to himself, acknowledging that forgotten but familiar feeling in his stomach and chest. He’d moved in recently and hadn’t quite felt like he belonged, which wasn’t unusual for someone who’d spent their entire life in the military, but he couldn’t deny he liked being around you. He felt he was probably a little too old for you, but your invitation gave him an idea. Single for a while, and for good reason, John thinks of this as a new start, though he isn’t sure what he’s doing, he knows he wants you. In some way.

He thinks about how sweet you were in the elevator, looking everywhere but his eyes, rushing to hold the doors open. He caught you looking at his arms. He also caught your figure as you opened your door, all curves, soft and smelling like flowers. He liked that you had introduced yourself when he moved in and asked him to hold a parcel for you when you were away. Sometimes he didn’t see you for a few days and he’d have to push the disappointment out of his mind.

He trimmed his moustache and beard in the morning and gave himself a once over, feeling foolish for being so invested. It was just a way to while away an evening. He slipped his phone into his back pocket and headed out into the crisp autumn evening.

When he arrives he tries not to rubber neck too much, trying to find where you were seated. The librarian who pointed John to the studio gave him a double take. The studio was dusty and large, tall windows filtered in what light was left of the evening. There were around 20 people already sat waiting, sharpening pencils and pouring themselves small plastic glasses of wine.

John tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment when he didn’t see you. Maybe she leads the session, he thought, not really considering what she meant by “I do life drawing”. Watching the others, he grabbed cartridge paper, a pencil and charcoal from the head table. He sat at one end of the room, facing the centre were a few stools and seats covered in a towel.

“We’ll start in a few minutes, please help yourself to some wine.” A man said.

Feeling overdressed, John looks around. What am I doing here? He thought as he saw a young woman open up her sketchbook with pages of incredible drawings of people. I can draw one hell of a stick man if it all goes to shit.

John considers going up for some wine but he catches a figure in a bathrobe enter the room. There she is, but his smile drops when you enter the circle of easels.

~~~

You don’t see him but you were searching for him. You haven’t felt this nervous to pose nude since your first time. You nod at a few regulars, scanning your peripherals for your neighbour.

You slink out of your bathrobe and you decide on a standing pose with one arm above your head, legs together, poised and coy, your face looking up at the ceiling.

Is he even here? God I hope he is. Your thoughts are joined by a cacophony of pencil scribbles.

Meanwhile, John is fighting for his life. You’re facing away from him and he already dropped his pencil once. Jesus Christ, he feels bad for looking at your naked body. He swears everyone just heard him swallow. He looks to his left, a young man stares at you, then down at his sketch book and then back up at you.

John looks at how tendrils of your hair falls across your shoulders and the gentle hollow of your lower back. Your curvy hips and swollen butt have gentle shadows. He follows the lines of your body down your legs. He had imagined you naked, and he was short changing himself: you were far more beautiful, with soft skin, muscle under a layer of mass, and elegant lines he wanted to taste with his tongue.

Unfortunately all he had was a pencil.

He started drawing your shoulders, painfully aware of a tightening in his lower stomach.

Someone says there’s only a minute left for this pose and John knows he is going to need a drink. He carefully gets up and walks the short way to the wine table. He unscrews the lid with a smile, she wanted me to see this. He pours himself a small glass.

You swing your arms to get some life back into them and decide to lay across the wide stools for your next pose.

Looking ahead you see an empty seat. Your heart flips. You’re facing it as if sleeping on your side. Your breasts pushed together, nipples pebbled from the exposure. Your hip juts out but your leg hides your mound ever so slightly. You close your eyes because you know who’s footsteps you hear coming back to their easel.

You try to hold your smile in but when you open your eyes, you fail.

You see John sitting languidly on his seat, legs spread, glass of wine in his left hand, his right hand on his knee. For a moment you think what a sweetheart for wearing a nice shirt but then you take in his deep blue gaze. His eyes are darker than when you saw them in the elevator, or the post room, or the stairwell. He looks hungry, you feel like you’re the only people in the room.

You maintain eye contact with him while his eyes wander the rest of your body. It’s electric being underneath his gaze. He picks up the pencil. You see his eyes travel over your breasts, down to your stomach and past your legs, then back to your eyes.

You break eye contact, still trying to deny your smile, hoping no one else noticed who you were looking at.

~~~

“I do life drawing was a stretch.” John approaches you, passing you a glass. You’re in your casual dress now, the biggest smile on your face. You feel like you’ve been caught red handed and you revel in it.

“I may have been slightly disingenuous.” You laugh, “thank you.” You take the glass, immediately taking sips because you don’t want to talk and ruin whatever this was.

“See you next week y/n, great lines!” A young woman waves.

“Great lines!” You repeat the inside joke.

John smiles, you looked so happy, in your element.

“I’m an old man, you could’ve killed me with this stunt.” John says quietly, “you are absolutely stunning, love.” He says even more quieter, low so you have to concentrate, the world evaporating around you. His eye contact is devoted, fevered.

“I was sure you could handle it.” The wine giving you courage to look him in the eyes. “Your sketches were pretty good.” You touch his forearm.

“Bollocks.” He laughs. You enjoy how he towers over everyone in the studio, the greys in his beard more apparent as well as his thick neck, chest hairs just visible at his spread collar.

“They were pretty shit,” you laugh “why did you give me such tiny hands and feet!” You’re both laughing, giddy.

“Alright wind your neck in - I’m coming back next week, so get used to naf drawings.” He reaches out and taps your bicep, giving you a wink. You like his light and respectful touches.

“Would you consider posing nude? You’d be very welcome from the usual men we get.” You say quietly.

“Is that so?” He waits for you to dig your ditch deeper.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Older? Greyer?” He teases.

“I prefer built and distinguished.” You tease back, disarming him with your clothes on, for a change.

“Any excuse to get my kit off, ey.” He teases, quietly.

“I asked nicely.” You sass him back quietly, hyper aware of the people topping up their glasses nearby.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks, waiting again for your go-ahead, knowing you’d be walking in the same direction anyway.

“I’d love that.” You say, heart hammering in your chest.

You left the stragglers in the studio and walked into autumn night side by side laughing about something. John felt light, unburdened and content. You were feeling emboldened but nervous, you didn’t want the night to end but you had a feeling John was not one to push, he seemed old school and traditional.

You both reached the fifth floor landing, finishing a story about his job taking him to the Adriatic Sea.

“Y/n, I’m going to be away for the next few days,” your heart sinks, “but when I know my schedule, I’d love to take you out, you know, the proper way.”

“Proper way?”

“Clothes on.” He said while standing straighter like a drill sergeant. You burst out laughing, blushing at your own audacity of inviting him to the session. You were never very good at flirting.

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“You’re right about that.” His eyes smile. You want to fall into them.

There’s a pause and you reach out on tiptoes, you kiss him lightly on his cheek, his hands are light and fleeting on your waist.

“Goodnight, love.”

Once you’re in your flat, you wave at him through the gap in the door, of course he’d wait to see me indoors safe, and why did I bloody wave?! You lock your door and quietly squeal, feeling the ghost of his hands and gaze on you.

John drops his keys on the kitchen counter and leans against it, laughing. She’s something else, he thinks. He unbuttons his shirt, knowing he’s going to need a cold shower if he wants to get a wink of sleep tonight.

#captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #cod fanfic #john price x female reader #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The art model

Nude model!reader x art student!Zoro.

Modern AU. My very first Zoro fic! This fic is dedicated to @star-yawnznn!

There is probably going to be a part two (and maybe even a part three!) to this...

*****

You had started having second thoughts on the very day you had asked Luffy to tell his teacher, Shanks, about you (or rather, you had allowed him to do so, after your friend had begged you for weeks), the anxiety mounting inside you progressively as the day of the first class drew near, and this morning, when a moment after waking up you looked at the calendar hanging from the wall and realized you were expected at the art school in just twelve hours, you felt the urge to scream loud enough for the whole building to hear.

How could you be so stupid to accept your friend's proposal? Yes, you were (and still are, barely two weeks later) in dire need of money, since you haven't been able to secure a scholarship or a loan to fund your education and your job at the bar doesn't pay enough. Yes, the classes are in the evenings and on Saturday morning, which is perfect because it allows you to attend your own lessons in the morning, spend your afternoons at the Partys', waiting tables and preparing drinks with your aunt Makino, and spend your Sundays in a coma, sleeping as much as you can to recuperate at the end of yet another hectic week. What's more, from what Luffy had told you the job is relatively easy, which certainly beat spending hours restocking shelves in a supermarket or cycling around to make deliveries for a restaurant.

Still... it is embarrassing. Absurd. A little ambiguous, also, even though you are confident Luffy would not drag you in something shady or of dubious morality; he has assured you the job is perfectly safe and even fun, but on the other had your friend's idea of amusement or security is different from that of most other people...

Even though you do need a job, part of you hoped Shanks would decide to hire someone else, given your complete lack of experience in the field, or that in the following weeks some problem would arose that forced him to look for another employee. He didn't, and (and for this you have to blame no one but yourself) since you didn't have the courage to disappoint both your friend and his teacher, you never called Shanks to tell him you had changed your mind.

Today is your first day of work as a nude model for the East Blue Art School, and you have no idea whatsoever what awaits you.

Luffy assured you that you didn't need to smarten yourself (you would be tempted to say to undress up) since what is required of a nude model is a natural look, but today, after returning home from your shift at the bar, you make sure to shave and wash your hair, and pay special attention to your make-up; the people you will pose for are students, not famous fashion photographer, but you want to look your best. You also spend a few minutes in front of your wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear, before realizing how utterly pointless the whole matter is, since you are going to pose in your birthday suit.

In the end, you decide you might as well choose something which you feel comfortable in; you have just put on your favourite shirt and a pair of new jeans when an energic, like everything he does and is, ringing of the door-bell heralds Luffy's arrival.

"(name)! Are you ready?" he asks, as enthusiastic as if he were going to escort you to the altar on your wedding day, rather than to a new workplace; as usual, he's wearing his beloved straw hat, a gift from Shanks himself on the first day of art school when he was seven, a bag with his drawing supplies hanging from his shoulder "I'm so happy you're going to pose for us! I can't wait to introduce you to the others!"

He doesn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed at the prospect of an old and dear friend, with whom he has always had a purely platonic relationship, getting naked in front of him, and having to carefully observe her body to reproduce it on paper. Well, all the better for you, you think as you invite him to come in while you finish getting ready; Luffy is one of your dearest friends and you'd hate for shame or embarrassment to cause a rift between you.

"Just a minute, I need to put my shoes on."

"Take your time, we still have half an hour before class starts. You have anything good from your mom?"

You have no talent whatsoever in the kitchen, let alone the time and energy required to prepare something good to share with your friends or to reward yourself at the end of a long day of study and work, but you have the fortune to be the daughter of a capable baker, and your mother often gifts you the fruit of her labour - what is left of it when the bakery closes, that is: brownies, cookies, bread rolls and other delicacies, that Luffy appreciates as much as you do.

You tell him your mom brought you some gingerbread last night, when she stopped by to wish you good luck for your new job, and Luffy quickly finds it in the pantry. "I'm sure you'll do great today." he says as he happily munches gingerbread as if it were the last day of his life. He once asked you if your mother could hire him part time at the bakery, but you gently pointed out that in that case the shop would have nothing left to sell, since he would have eaten everything.

"I hope so!" you comment as you join him in the kitchen, shoes donned and bag under your elbow "I don't want to disappoint you, or your teacher. I mean, everything I have to do is simply sit there, right?"

"I guess so. Just make sure not to fall asleep. Our previous model, Buggy, did it, one day he had to stay a bit longer than usual. He fell off a stool and broke his nose."

"Oh, poor guy..." you comment, snickering despite yourself "Anyway, I drank a double espresso ten minutes ago, so I should be fine."

You leave the apartment together, walking unhurriedly towards the art school, which is only ten minutes away, in a quiet neighbourhood. "I can't wait for you to meet the others!" Luffy exclaims, almost skipping along the sidewalk; besides you, your friend is particularly close to a small group of classmates, who together with him have studied at the East Blue since they were children "I'm sure you'll love them, and they you."

"I hope so." you murmur, suddenly tense once more; Luffy's company and natural cheerfulness have momentarily distracted you from the anxiety filling your body at the prospect of having to take your clothes off in front of a group of strangers, but now that very uneasiness has returned, in addition to the worry of not making a good impression on Luffy's dearest friends. Why didn't I accept that job with the cleaning agency? I'm allergic to dust, but apart from that, it would have been perfect....

Unfortunately it is too late to change your mind, and even to turn on your heels and return home, leaving Luffy and his class in trouble, because your destination is just a minute away: a spacious, well-kept building, in which students of all ages take courses in drawing, painting, sculpture and photography. Despite the hour there are many people about, pupils, including many old enough to be your parents, walking to their classes, discussing their projects, and carrying art supplies of all types; a joyous, exciting chatter fills the air, the sounds of a place full of energy, of teaching and learning, where knowledge is cultivated and freely shared. The East Blue Art Academy is a well-reputed institute, and any candidate has to pass a rigorous exam in order to be accepted to the courses; you have no idea why Luffy's teacher has decided to hire a first-time model, but your friend has assured you Shanks can't wait to meet you.

Crossing the large double door, you find yourself in a large hall with floor-to-ceiling windows from which, Luffy tells you, it is possible to reach all the four main departments, where classes take place from early morning to late evening; a separate wing is being built to host a music school, and in the back there is also a small botanical garden, where some classes also take place, since any artist worthy of the name must learn to observe and reproduce nature.

It wouldn't be polite to keep Shanks waiting, especially not on your first day, but you linger for a minute, contemplating the decorated ceiling of the hall, the fresco representing a white-sailed ship with a figurehead carved in the shape of a sheep, sailing through the waves.

"We made this, you know." your friend proudly announces "My friends and I."

"You are kidding!"

"I'm not. The hall was renovated two years ago, and students were invited to submit their projects, individually or in group. Me and four other from my class, you'll meet them soon, won, and the rest is history; the guys from the painting department helped, but the idea is ours."

"I can't believe it, it's lovely..."

The ship sailing under the clear blue sky is a really beautiful scene, it evokes a sensation of freedom and joy that even you, who can't draw or paint to save your life and has no interest whatsoever in the field, can't help appreciating. Who knows where the small but sturdy vessel is going, and what adventures it is carrying its crew towards...

You are so focused on admiring the fresco, full of admiration for the talent of Luffy and his friends, you don't notice a young man literally burst in the room from another corridor and then, as if his life depended on it, run in the same direction you and your friend had started towards. He crosses the room at full speed, unaware of Luffy who waves at him, but he notices you, as you take a step back to admire the frescoed ceiling from a better perspective... and find yourself on the man's trajectory, who doesn't have the time to stop or dodge you.

"Aaaaahhhh...!!!"

Fortunately you don't hit your head, but the man falls right on you, his knee pressing on your stomach, making it impossible for you to breath for a minute. You hear Luffy emit a cry of surprise, and then he hurries to help the man to his feet, lifting him off you. "(name), are you all right? Zoro?"

"I'm fine." you both answer at the same time; the man bends to pick up the sketchbook and pencils that fell from his bag, checking they haven't been damaged, while you cautiously massage the area above your belly-button, already sure than Luffy and his classmates will have to draw a large bruise.

"You haven't been taught not to run inside, especially if there are so many people around?" you asks, as soon as you catch your breath; normally you would simply forget it, annoyed but still willing to let the incident slide to avoid an argument, but that guy could have seriously hurt you, on the first day of your new job!, not to mention how stressed you have felt all day "This is a school, not a running track!"

He looks at you, as clearly annoyed as you feel. "Nothing would have happened if you hadn't gotten in the way." he argues; he is tall, attractive, with bright green hair, a bandana tied around his arm and not one, but three scabbards, clearly not empty, hanging from a sash at his waist, an unexpected sight that makes you momentarily forget your argument "I know that ceiling looks nice, but why don't you look where you're going?"

"I wasn't going anywhere, I was practically standing still...!"

"Guys... guys, come on! There's no need to fight." Luffy intervenes, stepping between you and the green-haired man as if fearing you would soon come to blows "You're both all right. (name), this is Zoro, he's in the same class as me; Zoro, (name) is a good friend of mine, she's our new model."

You sigh, recognizing Zoro's name as one of those Luffy has mentioned most frequently when telling you about his classmates; from what you have heard, they are very good friends. Also, since this guy is apparently a student in the class you are going to pose for, you don't want him to complain about you with Shanks. Consequently...

"I see. Well, sorry if I made you stumble; I didn't mean to." you apologize, making an affort to sound more remorseful than you actually are; you slowly offer an hand, ready to pull it back the moment you perceive your peace offer is going to be refused, but Zoro must have reached the same decision as you, because he takes your hand and shakes it firmly.

"It's no problem; I'm sorry if I hurt you. So, uhm, you've already posed before?"

"No, it's my first time." you admit "I hope I won't be a disappointment for you guys and for Shanks."

Zoro shrugs, as if minimizing your fears - not with the intent to insult you, though. "Ah, don't worry; if you can stay still for a while you'll be ok. If that idiot Buggy could do it, anyone can."

You find yourself smiling, your resentment towards your friend's friend already forgotten; after all, you don't need any more negativity in your life. "I hope you're right."

"Well!" Luffy intervenes, happy to see peace return between the two of you, as he rests one hand on your shoulder and the other on Zoro's "Why don't we go to class? (name) has to meet Shanks before we begin."

You and Zoro follow him along a corridor, as Luffy, who has an almost preternatural ability to make friends wherever he goes, exchange greetings and smiles with most of the people whose path he crosses. According to your watch, your first day as a model will begin in less than fifteen minutes; you are still nervous, but you find yourself glancing at Zoro, still beside you. Why on earth has he carried three swords to a drawing class? Since nor Luffy nor the other students seem alarmed by it, it must be an habit of his; perhaps they are to be the subject of a drawing? Are they props? Will Shanks ask you to hold them as you pose for Luffy and the others?

You could ask him; still, there is something you are even more curious about. "Where were you going in such a hurry?" you inquire "It is still early for your class."

"Well..." Zoro rubs the back of his head, as if embarrassed by what he is going to reveal "I was afraid I would be late to class. Again."

"Oh. You got struck in traffic? Or were late after work?"

"No, I... couldn't find my way to class."

"... you moved to the school recently?"

"... no. I've been studying here since I was eight."

You are left reflecting on those words (he had lost his way to the classroom? Inside the school? After maybe ten years?!) as you glance inside some of the rooms, their doors left ajar, in which other classes are taking place; in one, a group of children are painting a vase of flowers the teacher has placed on a stool (even though most of the paint seems to have ended up on their faces!) while in another two older men are arranging what looks like a set for a photo shooting, with a large camera sitting on a tripod, umbrellas for controlling and diffusing the light, and a red collapsible backdrop. Posing for pictures, this is something you have already done, you reflect, even though in less formal contexts, during a birthday party or on holiday; of course, during those moments you always wore clothes...

"Here we are!" Luffy announces in the end; he bows at the waist next to the door of the classroom, jokingly inviting you to go in first "Shanks, this is (name)!"

The only man present in the room, busy organizing a large quantity of pencils and other drawing tools on a desk, turns to greet you all with a smile. Shanks is a tall man in his late thirties, with bright red hair. He offers you his right hand to shake; he has no choice, since his left arm is missing.

"It is very nice to meet you, sir." you politely greet him; Luffy had never mentioned his beloved teacher was an amputee, but after all, one does not need two hands to draw, does he? "Thank you for this opportunity, I hope you'll be satisfied."

Shanks invites you to call him by his name, like his students do. "I should be the one thanking you; you have no idea how hard it is to find a model."

"(name) is a bit embarrassed she has to pose naked." Luffy interjects while he and Zoro place their bags next to two of the stools.

"That's not true!" you protest, not wanting Shanks to doubt your motivation, or willingness to do what you are asked "I mean, it is just... the first time I take my clothes off... for a situation like this, I mean..."

Zoro, busy retrieving a large sketchbook from his bag five steps from you, grunts. "You know, we're not going to jump your bones as soon as you take your panties off." he points out. His tone, more brusque than what you would have expected from a person who has known you for ten minutes, doesn't give the impression he wants to insult or ridicule you, but you resent it all the same; wouldn't he be embarrassed to present himself to a group of strangers completely naked?

Maybe not; after all he is very fit, strong arms and (Zoro is now bending to retrieve a pencil from his bag) a firm backside. Who knows, you reflect as you quickly avert your gaze, perhaps for some people showing off their body is actually pleasant...

"It is perfectly normal to feel a bit of awkwardness in taking off your clothes." Shanks assures you kindly "What you have to remember, though, is that there is nothing immoral, or inappropriate, in posing. This is a perfectly respectable occupation, and as long as you are here, you'll be perfectly safe, and believe me, these students are all old and experienced enough to see you like any other subject; in the end, there is not much difference between a nude model and a bowl of fruit, they are simply something to reproduce on paper. No one will focus on your weight or your... intimate parts, if this is what you are worried about."

It is indeed, and Shanks' words do reassure you. Luffy, already perched on his stool, winks at you.

The classroom is sparsely furnished, with a desk covered with paper and drawing utensils, a few painting easels in a corner and twelve stools placed in a semi-circle all around an higher one, that you guess will be your work station; many books of all sizes are lined up on the shelves on the wall facing the door. A folding screen creates a corner with a chair and a small wall-mounted sink in which you can leave your things, undress in complete privacy... and wash away your make-up, like Shanks has asked you to do.

The students arrive while you prepare behind the screen, their chatting filling the room as they find their places; in the end you come out the screen, barefoot and wearing the dressing-gown you have brought with you.

"Guys and girls, this is (name); she'll be our model from now on." Shanks introduces you, and all the students smile and wave while you reach your stool, look at your feet as you disrobe, and sit. Shanks helps you strike a pose, with your knees apart, an hand resting on your lap and the other raised, and your face in profile; and after that, all you have to do is to remain still, which is at the same time the easiest thing ever and more than a little uncomfortable, especially considering the class is supposed to last for a whole hour.

Fortunately, Shanks was right in saying you had no reason to feel ill at ease. The students are clearly used to a naked model, since you perceive no embarrassment nor, even worse, any special interest in your body, and they are simply focused on faithfully reproducing your form on their sketchbooks; a pink-haired student whose name you don't catch mentions you have remarkably symmetrical thighs, while his friend, with long blonde hair, asks Shanks' help in deciding whether he drew your breast smaller than he should have.

None of the students moves for the first thirty minutes, the silence in the room only broken by the soft noise of the pencils rushing on the paper; even the sounds of the city outside, traffic and people arguing and the barking of a dog, sound muffled to your ears. Shanks walks among them, offering praises and gentle corrections, and inviting them to pay attention to the shape of (name)'s calf, look at the curve of it...

Luffy sits surrounded by his dearest friends, like a captain with his crew: you've heard him talk about them so many times it is as if you had already met them. There are Sanji, Usopp and Nami, and Zoro, who given the direction Shanks has asked you to look towards is right in front of you, so that you find yourself looking directly at him - for a whole hour. He is really attractive, you decide, perhaps more than most other men you know; with his athletic physique, and the elegant features of his face, he could be an excellent model, not necessarily an art one...

It is right then, while you are busy idly observing the little you can see from his body and decide that yes, he must be either an athlete or a gym fanatic, because no one who sits on his ass all day can have shoulders like those, let alone such well-defined biceps, that suddenly Zoro, who has been so focused on his drawing he seems to have forgotten the rest of the world, suddenly and quickly lifts his gaze, his dark eyes boring into you. You start, for a moment sure he has perceived your vaguely inappropriate thoughts, and with a mounting sense of panic you feel yourself going red in the face, as it often happens when you are embarrassed. What has gotten into you?, you chide yourself; and you were embarrassed the others would look at you?!

"Is everything all right, (name)?" Shanks asks, making you jump again.

"Yes! I mean... I'm fine." you stutter; a few of the students glance at you from above their sketchbooks.

"Good. Can you please left your hand a little more?"

You comply, making an effort not to look directly at Zoro even though your face is turned exactly in his direction, silently apologizing to him.

After a while, Luffy lifts his hand. "Shanks, can I approach her?"

"All right; as usual, you have ten minutes. (name), Luffy will now approach you."

"'k." you answer, making an effort to speak without moving your lips, and to remain as still as a statue, even though your left arm has started hurting.

Your friend stands from his stool and comes to kneel in front of you, his sketchbook balanced on his thigh; the pretext is to observe your face up close, but Luffy takes the opportunity to meet your eyes and smile at you, before raising an eyebrow questioningly; all good?, he's silently asking you, perhaps feeling secretly responsible since he was the one who begged you to come pose for them. You make sure Shanks is busy helping another student, and wink at him. All good, don't worry.

Luffy, who knows you well enough he could easily draw your face from memory, remains at your feet for a few minutes, after which a few of the other students also ask Shanks permission to approach one by one. Zoro is the last, and he looks... disgruntled, brows furrowed as he observes you, intent as if he had to solve a complex mathematical equation; he looks down at his drawing, that you can't see, then back at you, and he grimaces, clearly unsatisfied. You force yourself not to squirm, unsure of the reason for his discontent but sure it is somehow your fault.

In the end, you are almost caught off-guard when Shanks announces only five minutes are left before the end of the class; you had completely lost track of time. The students hurry to polish their drawings while they have you there in front of them, even though they will have another hour to work on them, and after that you'll have to assume another pose for the next two classes.

"You were great!" Luffy exclaims in the end as he helps you stand from the stool, your legs stiff after the innatural position you kept them in for an hour; you smile, as usually amused and touched at the same time by your friend's enthusiasm, while the other students start gathering their things.

"Thank you, but after all it was you guys who did all the work; I just had to sit there and look... still." you point out as you retrieve your night gown and put it back on.

"Well, you did it very well. You want to see my drawing?"

You actually couldn't wait to, and most of the other students gladly let you see theirs as well. They are all very good, you decide as you examine the sketchbooks one by one, obviously different in style but all quite life-like; Nami's is probably the best, even though Luffy's is the one you like the most. You look at them, those portrait the young artists have drawn without masking the imperfections and the parts of your body you are embarrassed of, but striving to do justice to it all the same. You don't consider yourself a vain person, a self-centered one even less, but you wish you could hang all of them in your apartment and keep them close forever, because for some reason you feel as if each of those young men and women, most of which you don't even know, now are in possession of a small part of you...

Zoro is the sole who, seeing his classmates offer you their sketchbooks and ask for your opinion, is quick to shove his in his bag; your eyes meet, and he quickly looks away, as if he had something to hide. What a weird guy! Handsome... but weird.

"So, how did it go?" Shanks asks as the students say goodbye and unhurriedly line to leave; you smile at him, much more enthusiastic than an hour before.

"I must admit, I had fun; I'm sorry if you had to correct my position."

"That's all right, you are not a statue after all, and you did very well. So..." the teacher smiles, as if already knowing what you are going to answer "You want to do it again?"

You absolutely do, and Shanks shows you the schedule for his classes, both group ones and private; you'll be busy five evenings a week, for one or two hours at a time, which works just fine for you.

"Me and the guys are going to grab a drink in a place down the road." Luffy tells you "Wanna come?"

"Are you sure? I mean, if you'd rather be among you..."

Luffy looks at you strangely, as if he didn't understand the reasoning behind your indecision. "You are my friend, and now theirs as well." he points out "Why wouldn't we want you there?"

Reassured, you tell him that you'll be happy to come; the truth is you had a long day (your own classes in the morning, a long shift at the Party's in the afternoon, and now an hour of posing after which you feel more than a little sore) and are consequently pretty tired, but you feel well and want to know Luffy's school friends better. He tells you they'll wait for you outside, since Sanji needs a smoke, and you promise you'll make it quick.

Shanks leaves as well, needing to talk to another teacher, so that you are soon alone in the classroom, getting dressed and then retrieving your bag and nightgown. You are really in a good mood: your new job promises to be interesting and even fun, and who knows, perhaps you will even meet some new friends...

At least you think you are alone, but you stand corrected when, coming out from behind the screen, you find yourself face to face with a person, leaning against the wall close to the classroom's door, arms folded, clearly waiting... for you.

Zoro.

"Hi again." you say, a little uncertain; you doubt he waited to accompany you out... unless he is the one who needs to be guided, since apparently he gets lost easily "I'm sorry if I kept you guys waiting..."

Zoro shakes his head; his hand is now resting on the handle of one of his words, a casual gesture clearly dictated by habit. "I'm not coming tonight. I wish I could, but my... father is waiting for me."

"I see. So, uhm, you wanted to tell me something...?"

"Actually... I know we just met, but I have a favour to ask you."

Zoro bites his lip (something you have always found attractive in a man, which makes you smile for a moment), as if embarrassed of having to bother a person he barely knows... or perhaps of the favour itself.

"Go ahead."

"Well... I need you to pose for me."

Zoro tells you that figure drawing (that is, drawing the human form, either by observation of a live model or otherwise) has always been hard for him, much more than drawing a still life, buildings or any sort of scenes; he is usually at the same level of, or even better than, his classmates, but when he has to draw an human body, either that of a model or copying from a book or even simply relying on his imagination, he somehow suddenly forgets how to hold a pencil, not to mention everything he knows about proportions and perspective. He does his best, really, he practices and practices, he has a whole stack of sketchbooks filled from cover to cover with drawings, studies and portraits, but he is still unsatisfied - and behind what is expected from a person who has been an art student since he was six. Even kind, encouraging and less-strict-than-most-teachers Shanks had to admit his life drawings are of a much lower quality than the rest of his works.

What do you draw exactly, stick figures?, you are about to ask, and maybe you would if you were talking to Luffy or someone you know well. "I'm sorry to hear that; it must be very frustrating."

"It is; so I was wondering... well, if you'd be ok with posing for me, to practice." he goes on, shifting his weight from one leg to the other; asking another person for help, and consequently having to admit his shortcomings, seems almost physically painful for him "I do marginally better with a model, but two classes a week are not enough."

"Haven't you asked Luffy or one of the others?" you wonder, imagining that his friends would be happy to help, especially being artists themselves "Well, maybe not Luffy, he'd never be able to stay still for ten minutes, let alone a whole hour..."

"He really couldn't. And I tried, but I get distracted if I know the other person. I know you are busy with school and your other job, but would you be available? I would pay you, of course."

You tell him you could never accept money from one of Luffy's friends, especially not from a student like you. "I have yet to learn how to teleport or how to be in two places at the same time, but if we can find a moment we are both free, I'll be happy to help you."

"Are you sure?" Zoro asks; he seems taken aback, as if he expected you to refuse, or to have to beg you "You don't mind...?"

"I just discovered I actually like posing, and Luffy's friends are mine." you easily answer "Shall I come to your place? Do you live nearby?"

You quickly discover you live a couple of blocks away from each other, close enough you can easily walk from home, or from the Partys', to the house Zoro lives in with his adoptive father. You decide to meet on Sunday afternoon, which will allow you to sleep very late and still do something constructive during the day, especially if you bring a book or your notes with you to review as you pose.

Finally, Zoro smiles, relieved and happy; he has a lovely smile, you notice, as well as a lovely face, which makes you wonder if he ever tried drawing himself... "Thank you. (name), really... I owe you big time."

"One day maybe you can buy me a pizza or something." you easily answer, not meaning anything specific by it (namely, not a date) but simply thinking back at that time Luffy helped you move to your new flat and you bought him dinner to thank him (and almost went bankrupt) "Do you mind if we walk as we talk? I think Luffy and the others are waiting for me."

Zoro opens the door for you and then follows you towards the school's hall; despite the late hour, many classes are still in session. For you this is a job, something that as much as you enjoy it you need to pay for your bills and food, but these people, the students of all ages who spend their evenings here instead that at home or enjoying their free time after a day of school or work, choose to do it and pay for the courses themselves. They do it for passion, hoping to turn an hobby in a job, to improve their skills with the pencil (or the brush, or the camera...) or simply to spend time doing what they love, without concern for the future or retribution.

It is nice, you decide, feeling strangely wistful for a moment; who knows if you'll ever find something to be so passionate about...

"Luffy says you're studying to become an accountant." Zoro says after a while, as you walk next to him, your muscles still a bit sore after an hour of stillness.

"I do; there is absolutely nothing artistic about it." you laugh.

"But you like it?"

"Many people think it is the most boring and arid profession in the world, but I like it a lot, actually."

"There you go then." he considers in a tone of approval "Who cares about what other people think?"

You smile back, and that sudden, pleasant confidentiality pushes you to ask a question of your own. "If I may... what do you carry those around for?"

"You mean my swords?"

"Yes. I have seen some original fashion accessories, but a weapon, never."

Zoro grins, openly amused, as he gently grabs the hilt of one of the swords, pure white, in a protective gesture... or maybe to show you how ready he is to draw it on a moment's notice "I use them; I'm a swordsman, I have been training since I was five." he proudly explains.

"And you use three of them?!"

"Exactly. One in each hand, the third in my mouth."

You can barely imagine a scene like the one he is describing (seriously, how can he use a sword holding it like that? Does he have a prehensile tongue?) but Zoro is clearly serious, which fills you with admiration. "So you are an artist and a sportsman!" you exclaim; it is strange, but somehow fitting as well, to imagine a person's hands having the strength to handle a weapon, and at the same time being delicate enough to use a pencil... two opposite, but equally beautiful, ways to channel his energy "Talk about the total package! I knew you were an athlete..."

"What do you mean?"

"... nothing. Err, do you attend a fencing school as well?"

By the time Zoro has finished telling you about his adoptive father, who has been his fencing instructor since he was old enough to hold a practice sword and who then adopted him when he was fourteen, you have reached Luffy and the others, waiting on or around a bench in the school's parking lot.

"Speaking about my father..."

"Yes?"

Zoro stops, forcing you to do the same. "I wouldn't normally do it, but Luffy says I can trust you." he says, looking at you right in the eyes as if warning you against disappointing your friend's trust in you, as well as his "My adoptive father... he doesn't know I study here. He wants me to focus on fencing, so when I was fourteen and I went to love with him, he asked me to leave the school; I told him I had but..."

"... you obviously didn't." you finish for him "And he doesn't know you come here, three times a week? And you had for years?"

He tells you it is not always easy to hide he spends many of his evenings at the schools, but fortunately he's old enough his father doesn't feel the need to keep track of his movements, and his friends and employer (his friend Kuina's father) cover for him. "It has been easier since I came of age, since now I can at least use the money my biological parents have left me to pay for the school. Before that I was a step away from selling my... well..."

"I see." you say, sincerely touched; poor Zoro, forced to hide something he loves doing because he fears disappointing his father, or being forced to abandon it. Isn't he old enough to decide what to do with his life? "What's your father's name?"

"Dracule Mihawk."

"I don't think I've ever met him, but if this is what worries you, I'll keep your secret; I promise I won't tell anyone. If you want, you can come to my place to draw; I don't mind, and you can simply tell your father you're visiting a friend."

"Are you sure?" Zoro asks; he seems... taken aback, as if he didn't expect such support from a person he has just met and who has refused to be paid for her trouble. But, not to sound presumptuous, helping people who pursue their dreams and passions comes natural to you; you wouldn't be Luffy's friend otherwise "That... would be perfect actually. My father usually comes home late in the evening, so we would be more or less safe at my place, but..."

"Why risk getting caught, if we can avoid it?" you reasonably point out "I... can come pick you up, if you want; to show you the way."

You quickly exchange contacts, and you find yourself smiling; becoming an accountant is still your first ambition, but the prospect of beginning a new career as a model is exciting. Even though the thought of taking your clothes off in front of someone you just met is still weird... especially if your public will be composed of a single man, in the more intimate context of your apartment...

Technically speaking, you have invited a man to your home to look as you get naked; the thought makes you blush again, even though you felt perfectly at ease as you posed for the students. Pull yourself together, (name)! After all, he wouldn't be the first, would he? Even though, it has been a long time since...

"So... we have a deal?"

"We have. I can't wait to pose for you - I mean, I'm happy to help you."

"I'll try not to waste your time then." Zoro promises with a new smile, happy and relieved, and you think he should do it more often, because he looks even more lovely when he does it... "Thank you, (name); really, I appreciate it."

You tell him not to mention it, and by now you have reached Luffy and the others, who have attentively listened to your conversation.

"Sorry I kept you guys waiting."

"No problem. You sure you can't come, Zoro?" Luffy asks, clearly disappointed he cannot have all his friends with him; he shakes his head, apologetic and sorry in the reserved, vaguely introverted attitude you have already learnt to know.

"Sorry, next time, I promise."

He grins at you. "See you soon."

"See you on Sunday, Zoro."

You wink at him, and he waves as he looks at you walking to Luffy and your new friends.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Roronoa Zoro #Roronoa Zoro x reader #Mackenyu #Bellona's stuff

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

I looked and looked and looked for who to credit this art for. Maybe I'm blind. Maybe I need to do alternative searches for art to use on my posts. Anyhow, I found both of these on Pinterest. If you or someone you know is the creator, please message me and I'll add the artist.

A/N = Lovely Rengoku. This man can fit into any situation and make it work ... well, maybe not ALL. But you know what I mean. This ~one-a-fucking-gain~ didn't pan out how I planned it. I was originally going to write a whole thing but it pretty much just ended itself. It worked out well, though, despite being kinda short.

C/W = I don't think there are any. Talk of nudity, a small group of nude people posing for artistic purposes. Other than that it's just a fluffy piece. Flirting between Rengoku and y/n (F!reader). Enjoy!

Sign Here X_____________

"Hey, this is beginning art, right?" You asked the man looking over the class syllabus on the wall. He looked to be close to your age, maybe a little younger. He was goddamn beautiful, too. Tall. Not an ounce of body fat in the wrong place. Muscular. Cool hair; blonde with red tips.

He looked at you. For a good 10 seconds before he said anything. Scanning over your face, stopping at your eyes and your lips. You found yourself feeling some way. Not uncomfortable, but like you were under a microscope. Being inspected.

"Yes, this is my class, beginning art."

You narrowed your eyes. "'Your class?' Oh, you mean you're in this class, too? Cool. Well, my name is y/n. I guess I'll see you around. Thanks."

"Heh, no, this is MY class. As in, I'm the instructor. I'm the everything ... actually." He said calmly and smiled at you as he put his hair back in a tight bun and you watched him walk to the oversized desk in the corner of the room.

"Hello, welcome to ...?" He rolled his hands out like as he was encouraging the classroom to interact.

"Arrrrtttt for beginnnnerssss!" Everyone participated. Even you. How could you not. This man could convince a perfectly healthy person to drink a vile of poison.

"Good job, kids," he laughed. Clearly noting the older people in the class. "In this course, we're going to learn how to draw animate and inanimate objects. Always be prepared because I will surprise you from time to time."

You looked around the class to see everyone was completely enthralled with this young man. The person to your left was a woman, maybe in her 40's. She looked nice. You leaned over and said, "I can't wait to see what kind of surprises he's talking about," and giggled. She put her hand over her mouth as she giggled back at your comment.

"Y/n, care to tell me what's so funny back there? I'm not here as a comedian. I'm here as an art teacher. So if comedy is more up your ... alley? Perhaps you would like to go to the room a few doors down and share your humor with everyone that isn't here to learn how to draw?"

You shut up real quick. "S-sorry ... uhhh, I-I don't know your name." You tilted your right ear toward him, waiting for his response.

"I was actually just getting to that before you flexed your humorous." He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity. You don't think he blinked the entire time, either.

"My name is Kyojuro Rengoku. Yes. It's a mouthful. Yes, you have to call me by my full name or I will kick you out of this class."

Your body sunk as he laughed. "No, not really. You can call me Kyo. I'll write it on the board in such a way it'll be simple enough to pronounce." He grabbed the chalk and began to say out loud what he was writing. "Kee-yoh. Kyo. Simple enough, yes?" He looked at you. Again. What the hell was up with him. "See, y/n, I can be funny, too."

You nodded, feeling your cheeks pink up. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of you as your face transitioned back to its original color.

"Now, what exactly is going to be a surprise in this class, you're probably wondering. I presume you all read the waiver etc. that was included in your packet? I know I got most of them back all signed. If you didn't sign one, stay after and talk to me."

Shit, you thought, I never got anything like that.

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

Class was only 45 minutes tonight as it was just a basic introduction about what would be covered and when.

"Y/n, may I have a moment of your time?" He sounded so relaxed when he talked. You thought about asking him what his secret was. "Did you mail in your signed waiver? I sent it out with the syllabus about 3 weeks ago?"

You started to twist your bottom lip around with your teeth. "I ... I don't - ah, I mean I didn't ever get that. None of it, Kyo."

He was taken aback by your use of his name so casually. So effortlessly.

"Hm. Look over your information here and tell me if it's correct." He handed you a planner and had you find your name.

You pointed at it.

"Here's my name, phone # and addre-" You stopped and looked at him. "This is my old address. Where did you get this from?"

You'd moved 5 months ago to a little house. But you thought you'd changed everything over before you'd even moved out.

"I got it from here, from the school."

"Ohhh, oh no. I forgot to notify the school." You got a worried look on your face. "Does that mean I'm going to be kicked out of this class?" You didn't even try to disguise your concern.

"Nooo! No, nothing like that, y/n. But I will need you to fill one out, just to cover everything."

"Cover? Cover what? You doing blood sacrifices in here or something?" You laughed.

He didn't. "Among other things, yes."

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding.

A full minute must've gone by before he gave you a half-smile, the left side of his mouth turning upward.

"There will be no sacrifices of any kind in my class, little lamb. Do not worry." He chuckled, rather darkly for someone who was trying to be reassuring.

Little lamb. You're pretty sure you had a "little" orgasm when he called you that.

"Just initial on these and sign at the bottom?" You pointed at the paper.

He put his hand next to where you were pointing, almost resting it right on top of yours.

"Mmmm ... mm-hm. Did you read what it said, y/n?"

You shook your head, quickly at first but then you slowed to an almost complete still.

"It's just about ... about art, and ... other stuff. R-right?" You swallowed hard, it hurt.

"It's basically a declaration that you're ok with nudity in any capacity. You're ok with multiple bodies being nude and draped or sitting on one another. "Basically ..." he continued, "that you're not going to file a sexual harassment claim against myself or the school because you're uncomfortable. It states very obviously that there will be profound nudity in this course. If you're NOT ok with that, then you're free to change your mind, of course. You'll get a full refund, no questions asked."

He watched your face closely for any kind of a reaction.

"Who - who will be the nude model?" You asked, trying to use your big girl voice.

"Anyone who is willing to pose. Sometimes it's someone from class. Sometimes it's someone from a newspaper ad that needs some rainy day money." He paused, "And sometimes," he leaned back in his chair, "sometimes, it'll be me." A cocky look washed over his face. He knew what you were thinking. He was counting on it.

You almost lost your balance when he said that.

"Y-you pose?"

He nodded, looking a little proud of himself for having given you such a reaction.

"I - I think I'll stay in the class then."

"Fantastic. Sign ... right ... here."

Taglist: @callm3senpaii

#kyojuro rengoku fluff #kyo fluff #rengoku fluff #rengoku au art teacher #rengoku art teacher #art teacher rengoku #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro x you #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x you #kyojuro rengoku x y/n

[girlzlovinggirlzlovingme]

So what is your take on student x teacher this is like itching my brain with a need to know

I think that the student x teacher dynamic is adorable and quite hot, but it's rare to see someone put thought beyond just a teacher and a student. Can't you imagine someone admiring their gym teacher because of how strong they are? The way that their muscles glisten with sweat after joining the students in running a few laps around the track. Or maybe someone thinks that their home economics teacher is just so sweet and approachable, how their food is just so good, how comforting it is to be around them. The fun thing about the variations though is that the teacher's thought process is usually the same, wanting to show love to their favorite student. Not to say that there isn't the rare case of, perhaps an art teacher, seeing a student treat her class like a joke. Seeing them not put any effort into the process of creation. So she takes it upon herself to talk to the girl who has been treating the class like an easy A and tells her that if she starts to apply herself, maybe puts some effort in, she'd let her do a nude portrait of the teacher. The student, though, despite her complete disregard for the class, is completely infatuated with her teacher. So learning that this is her chance to see the body of the woman she has spent many, many lonely nights thinking about makes her put 110% into the class. End-of-the-year roles around and the teacher, who did not expect such a massive change in behavior from the student, is shocked but still holds up her end of the deal. Whispering in the student's ear after class "Come back here after school." The absolute second she can the student runs as fast as her legs can manage back to the classroom and with the amount of confidence only someone her age can have tells her teacher that she's "More than ready to do this." So now the student sits, with her leg bouncing eagerly and her heart thumping with anticipation, sitting in front of her easel and watching as her teacher begins to undress herself. Her body struggles to contain its lustful urges, her mind struggling to contain its lustful thoughts, while her teacher just sits so elegantly waiting for her beauty to be captured by her little artist. But behind the easel, sitting in her seat, the student is shaking as she puts brush to canvas. No thoughts other than those filled with infatuation are held in her mind as she draws. A breaking point is finally reached when she uses her offhand to move her skirt and stroke herself just slightly out of view from her teacher. The soft and muffled moans quickly give the student's desires away. But the teacher just tells her lone pupil "I think we've spent enough time on that pose, so grab another sheet and I'll change position." The student leaping quickly out of her chair and running over to one of the cabinets lining the wall to comply with the demands of her superior. It's only when she turns around to see how her teacher is spreading herself, nervously avoiding eye contact, and face flushed, does she completely stops what she was doing. The teacher, using her fingers to expose herself, sheepishly uttering the words "I know this is what you want to do, so let's just get it done with. . ." Dropping the canvas and running to the woman of her dreams, her cock bulging from her skirt, the student grabs the sides of her teacher's hips and excitedly nods, with the confidence only a girl in love can have.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Accusations Will Get You Everwhere | Teen & Up | 1390 words

Louis started rutting against the inside hem of her pants. She moaned at the feeling of her clit moving against the rough material. She rocked eyes rolling back when she felt a tug on her long brown hair. Her hips stop moving. She looked up, eyes glassy and cheeks a light pink.

“Mm, my little whore couldn’t even wait until mommy got back? Could she?”

Louis shook her head as she continued grinding.

She whined when Harry let go.

“What do you want, baby?”

Louis moaned. “ Want you to fuck me.”

2) I Fall To Pieces When I’m With You | Explicit | 2001 words

Harry fucks his omega good after a long day of work.

3) No One Will Hurt You As Long As I'm Here | Not Rated | 2844 words

Harry was shocked. He wanted to scoop the boy up and tell him he would protect him forever, and no one would ever hurt him again, but he knew it wasn't the time to do that.

Instead, he opened the door for Louis, made small talk, and walked him to the door when they arrived at Louis'.

4) Everyone Thinks That They Know Us (But They Know Nothing) | Explicit | 3660 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

A peek into Harry and Louis’ relationship after the Oscars.

5) Be A Good Baby (Do What I Want) | Explicit | 3758 words

Harry takes care of Louis for the day and ends up fucking the girl on her soft bed.

6) You Make Me Sick | Explicit | 3859 words

Morning sex sounds like the perfect way for Louis and Harry to start their day, if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry has work. He remembers a game from their sex book about faking ill, and soon he’s on the phone while Louis is on Harry’s dick. Harry must keep his boss on the phone for as long as he can stand it while ignoring the sickeningly dirty things his boyfriend is doing to him.

7) Teacher's Pet | Not Rated | 5642 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old omega student who has a crush on Mr Styles, his 37 year old English teacher, who's the most lusted after Alpha of the school. Louis plays with himself in class. Mr Styles gets his rut. Disclaimer: I don't know anything about teaching or teacher's assistants etc. So don't take it too seriously.

8) New York, Send Me Home | Explicit | 6013 words

The stunt is finally over for Harry!

9) Outline Of My Sins | Explicit | 6551 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 453: AU where alpha Harry is an art student who is taking a figure drawing class and omega Louis is the nude model. In the many years that Harry has taken art classes, he has never been more hot and bothered than now, having to stare at a beautiful nude omega model for hours.

10) Take A Ride Into The Danger Zone | Explicit | 7561 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Jensen Ackles.This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You’re so tiny and weak, you could never be anything other than the submissive little pillow princess you are.” Jensen teased, moving Louis’ wrists to hold them with one hand only as he used his now free hand to grab and knead at Louis’ meaty bum, he brought the boy closer so he was sat on top of his bulge.

“I would never know if I’d be good at domming because you never let me try!” The boy whined, squirming in Jensen’s lap, trying to set himself free from his boyfriend’s large hands.

Prompt 227: PWP inspired by Doja’s song “Freak”.

11) I Would Wait Forever (And Ever) | Not Rated | 10002 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is brave but has the worst timing in the world, Harry doesn't want to lose his best friend and they just don't communicate enough.

12) Like A Hurt, Lost, And Blinded Fool | Not Rated | 13919 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

ABO college AU where alpha Harry is a frat boy and he asks omega Louis out multiple times but he rejects him every time because Louis doesn’t like how frat boys act towards omegas. One night at a Halloween party, Harry dresses up as a stormtrooper and keeps his mask on all the time and flirts with Louis and Louis flirts back without knowing that’s Harry under the costume.

13) Blackberries And Cherries | Explicit | 13984 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a witch and Harry is his human friend. When Harry needs help focusing on his schoolwork, the obvious solution is to ask Louis for a potion. You could say things don’t go quite right.

14) Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out | General Audiences | 14263 words

Note: There’s no smut but since it’s omega Louis, it’s been included in this rec list.

Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers

15) Rendezvous | Explicit | 15357 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"Harry's got a date tonight." Zayn greets him.

Louis misses the good old times, when people used to say hello.

"Why's he got a date, Louis?"

Louis has no time for Zayn's nonsense, he's late to crash Harry's date.

He only came here for one thing.

"I need the fur coat." he announces. "No questions asked."

16) Ugly Love | Explicit | 16112 words

The 1860s Au where Louis is a prostitute and Harry's a governor, they both are in love until they aren't.

17) Sweet As Honey | Explicit | 21501 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis has always been shit at cooking. When he discovers Sweet as Honey on Instagram, owned by chef Harry Styles, he intends to mock him by recreating his recipes with his awful skills, posting photos on his own Instagram account, Nailed It. It's all fun until Harry asks to meet him.

18) Too Slow, Love|  Explicit | 21762 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

And Harry is so far out of his mind, staring at his full lips as he continues to sing the lyrics of that song that keeps playing in the back of his mind and Louis needs too much to put his lips on the curly one. And frustration fills his system, because he wants Harry so badly -he's made it clear so many times- and Harry makes no move, gives him no sign even though he wants him too -Louis can feel it in his gaze, in his gentle touch, he can feel it right now-.

He slid his hands down the curly one's chest starting to rise and modulated just for Harry to see: "you're too slow, love."

19) Soapy Lace, Let Me Embrace | Explicit | 26897 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

You know when, in movies, there’s always this character who’s one step away from death? And as it’s nearing they can’t do nothing but pause and relive all of their life, the moments that changed them forever and brought them where they are, as they are. Well, that’s exactly how Louis feels. Feet stuck in place, stunned by the view of what Harry’s holding between his fingers, Louis can’t help but open and close his mouth, wordlessly cursing himself for all the stupid choices he made in his life which led to this moment.

The right words to describe how Louis feels at the sight of his lingerie in the grasp of the last person who needed to see them aren’t written in vocabularies yet.

20) All This Devotion | Explicit | 38047 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

He takes a deep breath. “So this party?” he says, eyes firmly on the road. “I’ll do it, if you want.”

“What?” Louis says, voice quiet beside him.

“I’ll come to your sister's party. It’s going to look weird if I don’t now, right? Like, she’ll wonder what happened.”

“I guess, yeah. You don’t have to though, I get that it’s weird. Pretending to be my alpha, my boyfriend,” the omega says, not understanding what Harry is just now fully realising for the first time.

He wants to be that. More than anything.

21) The Hope Of It All | Explicit | 42336 words

Harry looks gorgeous, just like he always does. He’s wearing his signature black, tight, skinny jeans, a band tee and his varsity basketball jacket. The combination of his perfectly styled hair and the black ray bans over his eyes are enough to make Louis stop the rubbing motions on his arm to just let himself gaze at Harry, eyes dreamy and heart stuttering.

“Take a picture, it would last longer.” Zayn smirks, side eyeing Louis with that annoying, knowing look he gives him every morning when they repeat this same routine.

“Shut up.” Louis groans, ducking his head and rubbing in the last of the lotion. “I wasn’t even staring,” Louis says as his eyes wander back to Harry, where Naomi has now attached herself to his side.

22) Please, Deceive Me | Explicit | 42439 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

After a few minutes, when Harry’s finally settled he says, “Well, I guess you don’t have an explanation for that either?”

“Well, you did follow me of your own accord, I owe you no such thing. I’m a stranger Harry, I could have led you anywhere. I think between the two of us you’re the one who owes me an explanation.” Louis puts his hands on his hips as if to emphasize the point.

Harry looks down, “Well, In my defense, It was a pretty stranger that I followed.”

“Oh Harry, pretty people can be dangerous too, you know.” Louis rolls his eyes but a warm pink still falls over his cheekbones.

23) Chasing The Moment I'm Hoping Is Coming | Mature | 44486 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

For as long as Louis can remember, he’s been obsessed with the idea of love. He’s read countless books about love at first sight and seen way too many Hallmark movies. The idea of a soulmate—someone made just for him—has been something he’s longed for as long as he can remember. It’s always been on his mind, and he’s made up countless scenarios for who they are or what they do, taking inspiration from literature. His mom fills in the rest of the blanks; he’s heard many stories about a wide-eyed, toddler-Louis staring at movie after movie, begging for just one more because he was so enraptured by romance. As he grew up, his tastes changed, of course; he’s branched out to fantasy, action, and even horror movies as well, but there’s always something about romance that he comes back to. So many tales of love have been told, retold over the years that Louis is nearly positive he’ll be swept off his feet. However, there’s one teensy little kink in his plan.

He’s single.

24) Gallery Of Us | Explicit | 55778 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

In spite of wanting to sound lucid and coherent for his own big jump, Harry wants to be near and touch, wants to listen to whatever the omega’s saying because he loves that voice, and he's always hated talking unless he has to. They're a good pair, the two of them, a perfect balance. Louis’ all sunshine, good vibes and healthy eating, lingering hugs and sticky cheek kisses, and Harry's the complete opposite without explanation, but fuck, it feels good to be around someone like that. To have someone like that in his life at all.

Harry wants to protect his affectionate ball of light from the world's ignorance, wants to help add to the glow like starting a snowball, rolling it around until it can’t get off the ground because it’s so heavy from all the effort, patience and commitment.

25) Satellite | Explicit | 78422 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a hardworking, dedicated, loving single mum with no interest other than making his son happy, and who thinks that love will never knock on his door again. Harry is a lone man, successful in his field, and thinks he has his life together and all figured out. Wrong meets clueless, lives get turned upside down in the best way possible with the help of a cute and curious little boy, who just wants to learn more and more.

26) The Rose of Whitechapel | Mature | 100181 words

Jack the Ripper au - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended...

A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

27) Only You And Me | Not Rated | 109836 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Louis goes on with his life after Harry, he hopes Harry comes back to him but is also on the search for something new. Will Harry reach out to Louis, or will Louis get over him and find something better?

28) How Many Times Will It Take (To Get This Right) | Explicit | 157805 words

Harry was watching her go, unable to meet Louis’ eyes again now that they were alone, and that’s how he saw him when the young boy leaned around Jay to peer at his mum and Harry. Harry’s jaw went slack, his mouth falling open in disbelief when two green orbs identical to his own found him and stared unwaveringly calm into Harry’s sunglasses-covered face. His small features were undeniably close to Louis’. Their noses, their lips, even their brow line was the same, but the pup’s eyes were an eerily familiar shade of emerald, and much rounder than Louis’. His hair fell in dark ringlets around his small face, which was also much too round to really say the child looked like Louis, despite the similar features. Harry sputtered when his alpha roared in his chest that Harry should follow the kid--should protect his pup. But there was no fucking way.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #monthly fic recs

[heavensenthale]

no professional model needed

Written for Multiamory March Day #19: Art

Fandom: Teen Wolf Relationship: Lydia/Malia/Kira Rating: Mature (nudity) Word count: ~500

Read on AO3 or

“Please stop fidgeting,” Lydia said without taking her eyes from the easel.

“I’m not fidgeting,” Kira replied, suspiciously fast.

Lydia took a look at the girls and saw that the light was reflected differently on Kira’s hair. She definitely moved.

“Girls, you volunteered to do this, I could’ve hired a professional model.”

“No, no, no professional model needed,” Malia added, moving a stray hair out of her face. “I’m not even tired yet.”

Earlier that day, they had agreed to help her in her nude project for her drawing class, even after Lydia told them she wanted to do something bold and daring that would make it to her portfolio. What she meant was you’ll have to hold a somewhat uncomfortable position for a long time. Right now, Kira was lounging on their sofa, occasionally eating from the fruit bowl she placed for them before they started. Malia, with her back to her was leaning on her left arm, lounging in the opposite direction Kira was. It was a beautiful view and Lydia would’ve loved to join them and do all sorts of naughty things with them.

Instead, she sat in front of the easel sketching on charcoal the final piece. She loved her girlfriends but they made for lousy models for a project such as this one.

Kira moved to get her hair out the way and Lydia had to put the charcoal pencil down.

“Kira,” she began, “you don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

“But—”

“I love you, and you’re one of my favorite people to photograph, but this might not be your niche.”

Malia sat up, completely ruining the vibe Lydia was going for. “I think we’d be better at this if there was some prize waiting for us on the other side.”

“I don’t work well under pressure,” Lydia arched an eyebrow in Malias’s direction. “Nor do I work well when the model ruins the perfect pose she was in.”

“I can do it again,” she replied.

Malia stretched her arms and her neck, and went back to the lounging position she was in before, turning her face just so, leaning on her left arm just a little bit too much, but otherwise perfect.

“If you stay still, I will finish this faster and we can all be naked then,” said Lydia.

“Do you promise?” Malia asked.

“I swear.”

An hour later, the light filtering through the window was her signal to put the charcoal pencil down. Lydia looked at her drawing, then at her girlfriends: there was no way to do justice to their beauty, but she’d keep trying for as long as they'd let her.

When she stood up, both girls turned to look at her. “I’m done for the day. You can follow me to the bed if you’d like.”

To drive her point home, she took off her skirt and dropped it on the floor, quickly followed by her blouse; then she turned around, confident in the knowledge that her girlfriends would follow her.

They did.

#teen wolf #tw fic #lydia martin #malia tate #kira yukimura #malydira #multiamory march 2023 #miliwrites (allegedly)

[mutants-and-soldiers]

Venus Rising {Part 2}

summary || There are very few times you are surprised in your line of work. Stripping was pretty straight forward...until it wasn’t. Meeting a certain art professor threw a very big wrench into your predictable life.

pairing || Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Stripper!Reader

word count || ~6600

warnings || Modern AU, No Powers AU, stripper!reader, insecurities, asthma, disability, adorable Steve Rogers, dates, oral (F recieving), Unprotected sex, PnV sex, dom!Steve.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Steve knew this was terrible but he hated this lesson in the curriculum. That and it was a freshman class so there was always snickering and, god help, boners. He was in the middle of setting the small stage up with the long couch when there was a knock on the door. It was too early for any of the students to show up so it had to be the model.

“I’m coming,” he called to the door, walking over to open it up. “Come on…in.”

His eyes trailed up from your exposed belly to the crop top until he got to your smirking face. “You must be Professor Rogers,” you say sweetly, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Venus?” he asked, stepping aside when you took the first few steps into the room. Your heels clicked smartly on the tile floor as you crossed to the little stage. “What are you doing here?”

You looked over your shoulder with a coy grin. “I’m the nude model for your class, of course.”

Steve’s brain fritzed out for a good thirty seconds before he was able to reboot. “Why?”

“I mean, I’m a stripper so what better person to model?” you laughed, putting down the large bag you brought. “I hope you don’t mind but I brought my own things to help.”

The blond professor’s mouth opened and closed as you brought out a few pillows and a blanket to layer on the couch. “Class starts in fifteen minutes so you’ve got plenty of time to-” he snapped his mouth closed when you easily dropped the flowy skirt to the stage floor. “Venus!”

You laugh brightly, snapping the side of your panties playfully. “What? I’m supposed to be completely naked, Professor, does that…bother you?” you smile, looking over your shoulder only to see the man’s back. “I mean, if I’m not pretty enough then I can always go.”

“No! That’s not what I-damn it,” he mutters, turning around to look everywhere but the lower half of your body. “You’re gorgeous, Venus, and I know that you know that so stop playing. I just didn’t expect it to be someone…I knew.”

There was a lot to unpack with the way he said those last two words but the intensity in his blue eyes was enough to send a tingle of anticipation down your spine. “You think I’m gorgeous?” you asked as you stepped down off the stage right in front of the man. His cheeks were ruddy with flush and it was going down into the pale skin of his neck. You lean down to be more on his level, giving a devious smirk. “Wait until the rest of the clothing is gone.”

He swallowed thickly but before he could say anything, early students started filing into the room. Steve turned to address the class while you took the time to get fully undressed. The couch was actually quite comfortable so the pillows you brought made it good enough to spend a long time on. You could feel the tension in the room as more students arrived but you only had eyes for one person.

Steve made it a point to keep from looking at you, which made this all the more fun. The professor was quite stoic as he went through the assignment to the class. You were impressed that his voice didn’t shake or waver but, then again, he had his back to you and there was still a hint of that pretty red on his neck. Once the instructions were over, the class began drawing. 

You watched the small professor move around the room, commenting on small details and pointing out flaws. His voice was easy, gentle and he gave his critique with such a sweet face that it made you smile. He took over again once the initial sketch was done, talking about how to add your curves and other feminine features. 

It made you happy to know that no matter where he looked, you were all he could see. It made his face tight as he tried to keep that sweet smile on his face. It was obviously torture for the man. You bet the hour-long class would feel like a thousand years, having to watch his students’ drawings slowly start to form into you. 

To his credit, he did very well until about 45 minutes into the lesson when it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to find a space in the room that didn’t include your likeness in multiple different styles. It didn’t change the fact that it was you and he obviously found you quite captivating. You watched him the entire time, ignoring all other people in the room to just wait for the moment he looked at you.

It was about five minutes until the end of class, when those blue eyes finally looked up. You expected to be a little flirty, maybe shift just enough to make your tits bounce or run your hand down the supple curve of your hip but…you didn’t. You…couldn’t. The intensity behind his eyes stuck you to the spot and it made you feel both nervous and unreasonably excited all at the same time. Without much thought, your thighs tightened just enough for those blue eyes to flick down then back to your face. 

“And that’s time, everyone!” he said, completely breaking whatever spell he had cast upon you in an instant. “Please place your easels back in their designated spots. We will continue coloring and shading next time.”

The room emptied, some of the students taking one more peek at you before the door was closed behind the professor. “That was a lot of fun!” you smiled, draping your legs off of the couch and stretching. You liked that dark look he gave you a second ago and wondered how much it would take to push him to do it again. “I can’t wait to do it next time!”

He looked like he had a million things to say but ended up sighing heavily. “Seriously, Venus, why are you here? To toy with me?” he asked, taking a few steps forward until he was within reaching distance. He was either used to the nudity or had forgotten altogether at this point.

A lot of your bravado and confidence slips a little and you give a small, sheepish smile. The expression stops him dead in his tracks, obviously something he hadn’t seen from you. “I...very much enjoyed our conversation and I...was wondering if I could...I mean if we could...go out for coffee or something?” you asked slowly, having a hard time keeping eye contact. He had no such issues and it was intimidating the way he was able to stare into your soul with those pretty baby blues. 

There’s a bit of disbelief on his face as he studies your expression. You were sure he was thinking of all the times women had been dared to ask him out as a prank. “I’m serious, Steve,” you blurt, reaching out to take his hand. It was surprisingly strong and calloused as you stroked the back with your thumb. “I...I didn’t want our time to end last time. I figured...I’ve let so many opportunities pass me by that...I didn’t want to let this one go too. I know my job is…”

“No, no, stop,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not about your job, really, it’s just...I’m so plain and you’re so…”

You felt your face heat at the look of admiration in his eyes. “So what?” you coax selfishly. So many people complimented your looks at your job but Steve was different. He only said things that were genuinely true to an almost blunt level. “Go ahead, woo me with your poetic words, Professor.”

“Beauty is only skin deep. If you go after someone just because she's beautiful but don't have anything to talk about, it's going to get boring fast. You want to look beyond the surface and see if you can have fun or if you have anything in common with this person,” he quotes, lifting your hand to kiss the ridges of your knuckles lightly. His blue eyes glistened with a mixture of teasing and awe. A mixture that was slowly becoming like booze to an alcoholic: Addictive. “Amanda Peet said that.”

You found your voice after a second so that you could awkwardly breathe out, “I loved her in Identity.”

Steve’s lined smile spreads quickly at your understanding. “That was a pretty good movie. You know, before the whole...DID thing became a trope.”

“So...is that a yes...to coffee?” you ask, feeling silly for how drawn to his lips you were in that moment. 

Steve looked at the watch on his thin wrist. “Actually, I could use some lunch,” he said, squeezing your hand lightly. “Do you care?”

You felt light and excitement burst through your entire body. “Sure, that sounds lovely!” you smile, giddiness making you light headed. It was only slightly a challenge to get your clothing back on while so excited. “Do you still have classes?”

Steve walked away to grab his things behind the desk at the front of the classroom. “I teach a night class but that’s not until much later. I assume dinner is off the table? You work late.”

You walk over, heels clicking smartly on the tile. “I’m off for the next three days,” you say, leaning against the desk casually. “I usually sleep most of the afternoon. I’ve always been a night owl even before I started dancing.”

Throwing the straps of his bag over his shoulders, Steve walked over to open the door for you. “Well, how about we catch a movie tonight? I don’t have any early morning classes so I could stay up a bit later.”

You follow after him, brushing lightly against him as you exited the room into the bright, sunlit hallway. The large windows illuminated the hallway more than any lights could at this part of the day. You turned with just enough time to catch Steve staring at your illuminated form.

“I’m not much for movie theaters but...we could watch a movie at my house, if you want,” you smile, feeling a little embarrassed by his admiration. 

“Are you comfortable with that?” he asked, gesturing towards the hallway so the two of you could walk to the elevator. “I mean...I don’t mind! I just...it’s your space.”

He hits the button before you can do anything. “I wouldn’t have invited you if I were uncomfortable, Steve,” you laugh gently, aware of the passing students' stares. It was something you had grown accustomed to, at least, enough for it to be only mildly annoying. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind, okay?”

He seemed relieved as the two of you entered the elevator. “Okay, as long as you’re comfortable.”

He took you to a little bistro a block away. It was a hole-in-the-wall, mom-and-pop kind of place that was casually busy at this time of day. It smelt heavenly as you stepped through the door, which Steve opened because of course he did, and you took a second to inhale deeply the scents of homemade bread, coffee and pastries. The cozy seating area had overstuffed leather couches and artwork all over the walls. 

“Come on,” Steve clears his throat, pressing a hand to the small of your back. You allowed the man to guide you away from the door, enjoying the heat that radiated through your clothing from his palm. “They have the best panini this side of New York.”

A sweet matronly woman stepped up to the counter. She had graying hair that was pulled up into a loose bun and a face full of lines from laughter. “Professor Rogers, what a surprise! You’re usually so predictable with your Wednesday visits!” the woman said, wiping her hands off on the frilly apron with a fall floral pattern. Her kind eyes looked at you and the grin that split her face was one of mischief and excitement. “And who have you brought with you?”

Steve cleared his throat, the tips of his ears flushed where they peeked from his blond hair. “Aunt May, this is Venus,” he introduced slowly. “She’s never been here before so I figured I’d bring her out.”

“Venus,” the woman said, testing the name out on her lips. “Your parents were spot on in naming you, weren’t they, sweetheart?”

You laughed, offering a hand. “They set me up for success that’s for sure. It’s a pleasure to meet you, May.”

Her grip was surprisingly firm when she shook your hand. “Please, call me Aunt May, everyone in the neighborhood does.”

“Of course,” you chuckled, looking at the menu. “Steve said your panini can't be beat so let me get the panini of the day and...oh! Is the baklava latte good?”

“Honey, it’s to die for,” Aunt May said with a confident smirk. “My nephew came up with that one. It’s the perfect latte for fall.”

“Well, then I have to try it! I’ll take a large with an extra shot of espresso,” you respond, reaching into your pocket for your billfold. 

Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist before you could place the card on the table. “No, absolutely not,” he laughed, placing his own card on the counter. “She’s not allowed to pay for anything, Aunt May.”

You feel your face flush with warmth. “Please, Steve, I invited you. I had every intention of paying.”

Aunt May laughed while swiping his card. “Best not to argue, dear, he’s stubborn as a bull when it comes to things like this. Just thank him and go find a seat. I’ll bring out the food soon.”

Stumbling over a weak argument, you find his hand at the small of your back as he leads you to a corner table with the only cloth chairs in the room. He pulls yours away from the table, taking your hand to help you sit down. “Steve, please, I-”

“You’re not used to people taking care of you, huh?” he asked, making you snap your mouth shut with the click of your teeth. He smiled sweetly, leaning back in his own chair to get comfortable. “I know you could pay, Venus, but I figured...if I wanted to consider this a date...I’d better pay.”

Date. The word struck your gut so hard that you couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Of course, that’s what you wanted out of this but...you weren’t sure if he would. It was stupid of you, of course, but you hadn’t dated in a long time. 

“No,” you admit after a moment of thought. “Truth be told, I haven’t dated in a really long time.”

He smiles sadly, “Yeah, me too.”

Not self imposed, you assumed. The reason you refused to date was because of the last committed relationship you were in nearly a decade ago. You had plenty of offers because, let’s be honest, you weren’t lacking in beauty but it was all skin deep. No, Steve didn’t date because...he wasn’t appealing physically. Bony, frail and short, he was obviously way below the standards of many women in the world. 

But, as you looked at him, you couldn’t help but like him. It wasn’t his appearance but that had never mattered to you. Personality and conversation were so much more important than muscles or beauty. You wanted to connect with someone who could make you happy and muscles couldn’t do that.

“I like you, Steve,” you blurted out, not realizing for a moment that you had said it outloud instead of keeping the thought to yourself. His head snapped towards you, shock crossing his face and making embarrassment flood your system. “I’m sorry, I-I’m not sure where that came from.”

“Why?” he asked, ignoring your embarrassment. “Why do you like me?”

The two of you pause when May brings over your coffee and food. “Enjoy!” she said, making herself scarce. 

You took a sip of your coffee, ignoring the burn for the second of silence. “People are like stained - glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within,” you say slowly, smiling at the man. “One of my favorite psychologists, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross said that and I guess it fits here. I guess, you shine in both the light and the dark. You’re...a wonderful person all around. Even if we didn’t click romantically...I decided you were someone I wanted to know.”

His face softened a little, obviously very touched. “I...I enjoyed talking to you too. I just...wasn’t sure how to get in touch with you...you know, without going back to your job.”

“Well, good thing you told me where you worked, huh?” you laugh, sipping at your coffee. 

The two of you spend the next two hours eating, talking and laughing. Time, truthfully, flies by without you even realizing it. You enjoy talking to him about art, history and so many other topics that you never really get to explore anymore. It warms your heart when he laughs and when he gets passionate about something. 

“Oh shit,” you laugh, looking at your phone for the first time in two hours. “I need to get home and go to sleep so I don’t throw off my schedule!”

He stands up to help you clean the dishes. It’s once the two of you are standing outside that you hesitate. “Thank you,” he blurted out before you could say anything. “I really enjoyed this.”

You felt giddy. “I did too, Steve. This has been...so nice. Are we still on for a movie at my place tonight? I’ll make some pizza for us if you like.”

“Sounds great,” he sighed, looking at a loss for a moment. “Here, let me give you my number so you can text me your address.”

The two of you exchange numbers then stand there without moving. “Can I...hug you?” you ask, feeling like your insides were going to shake right out of your body. 

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping forward to wrap you up in his arms. You hug him tightly, feeling all of his bony edges pressing into your supple curves. He is warm and sturdy even with his frail body. 

The two of you hesitantly part. “I’ll send you a text when I’m ready with my address.”

“Sounds great,” he smiled, turning to leave. “See you soon.”

“You too,” you whisper, watching him walk away for a few seconds before turning and heading back to your apartment. 

Sleep was a hopeless endeavor, truthfully. You laid there in a giddy haze of happiness and excitement. After a few hours of tossing and turning and time on your phone, you finally threw yourself out of bed to get ready. You took a long shower and groomed yourself until you felt like a new person. 

You were going through your dresser for something to wear when your phone went off. Looking, you felt your heart soar when you saw it was a text from Steve.

Hey, I know you’re probably just getting up but I wanted to ask what I should wear. Is casual fine?

The bubbling of giddy excitement made you nearly squeal, which, in turn, embarrassed the shit out of you. It was a simple enough text message. Why were you so fucking-didn’t matter. You needed to respond.

I was just going to wear pajamas. I don’t mind if you do too.

You quickly sent the text and flopped onto the bed waiting for the answer. It didn’t take long.

Pajamas, pizza and movies on our second date? Sounds like my kind of date! 

It was stupid how happy you felt. You hadn’t been this hopeful in a long time. It felt good to be excited about something. 

Great, come by around 10?

You also sent him your address before you forgot. Standing back up, you go over to the drawers to pull open the top one. Pajamas were your fucking jam seeing as you were in uncomfortable heels and underwear most of the time. You decided on a silky floral set. You debated on wearing a bra because it would be pretty obvious in the white and red silk. Too much? 

Your mind wandered to the thought of the night progressing towards...sexier endings. He was so kind and considerate in the light...what kind of person would he be when the lights were off? Would he be the doting lover who made sure you were well taken care of? Or would he turn out to be dominating and dirty? 

Either way, you were suddenly very uncomfortable with the thoughts. Not a bad uncomfortable, by no means, but you were a little off put by the throbbing. Sure, you had plenty of friends with benefits for your needs but...something was different with Steve. 

Biting your lip, you make a dangerous decision and toss your bra away. “Panties optional,” you smirk, catching your excited look in your vanity mirror. You pull the silky, flowy shorts up your long legs and admire the picture you make in the mirror. Turning, you giggle at the sight your ass made in the shorts. “I hope he remembers his inhaler.”

You were pulling the pizza out just as a knock sounded on the door. Setting the pizza on the stove, you pull off the mits so you could answer the door. You open it up to find Steve standing there with a bottle of wine and potted plant.

“Hey...Venus…” he paused, eyes trailing down the length of your body. They lingered just a little too long on your braless breasts and the exposed skin of your legs. “You look fantastic-I mean, these are for you!”

You hide the knowing smirk behind the flowers as you smell them. “These are lovely, Steve,” you smile sweetly, taking the bottle of wine next. “Oh, sparkling wine? You shouldn’t have!”

“I figured it’d go nicely with the pizza?” he asked, stepping into your living room and closing the door. You walked over to set the plant on your balcony with your other plants before really looking at him. He was wearing a clean pair of gray sweatpants with a t-shirt with the words, Art Teachers do it for the Monet, with splashes of paint all over it. “I love your shirt!”

He looked down at the shirt before laughing. “I thought you might like this one! I got it from a student as a gift.”

“It’s fantastic,” you giggle, walking over to cut the pizza. “Want to grab some glasses from that cabinet? I’ll plate us up some food while you pour the drinks.”

He quickly came around the corner to help in the kitchen. The two of you worked to get everything ready. You caught him looking at your ass a few times out of the corner of your eye but didn’t say anything about it. It only made you a little wet. 

You grabbed the plates and headed into the living room where your big, fluffy loveseat sat. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?” you asked, flopping down onto the cushion. 

Steve handed you a glass of wine before sitting down next to you. He was warm and comfortable next to you. You grabbed the soft, downy blanket off the other couch to lay across your laps. 

“You can choose. There are very few things I don’t like,” he smiled, cuddling into the couch to get comfortable. 

“How do you feel about Mockumentaries?” you ask, grabbing the remote to toggle through your streaming sites. “There’s this new one out about the Megalodon that I’ve never had the time to watch.”

He laughed, sipping at his wine idly. “That sounds like fun!” 

The two of you eat your pizza, drink your wine and laugh at the asinine movie. The ‘proof’ was goofy and hoaky but gave the two of you plenty of things to make fun of. Somehow, the two of you ended up leaning against each other by the middle, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

You could feel his heart pounding inside his narrow chest and his warmth was comfortable. “Steve,” you whisper, catching his attention so that he looks down at you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers without a thought. 

He met you halfway so that your lips crashed together. Neither of you seemed to mind as heat coursed through your body from the simple touch. You moved to sit up, situating yourself on his lap. The blanket fell away from your bodies, forgotten, on the ground. Your fingers tangled in his hair and his hands wrapped around your waist to hold you steady. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, worried about his asthma. “Do you have your inhaler?”

Steve hardly heard you as he pulled the device out of his pocket and placed it on the arm of the couch. “Right here,” he said before jerking you back down into another kiss. He kisses you like a man starved, tongue invading your mouth until you moan. “Still good?”

“Yeah, more,” you whimper, shivering when his fingers run up your thighs until they slip past your shorts. He hesitated at the swell of your ass. “It’s okay, Steve. Keep going.”

Bolstered by your consent, he grabs your ass with both hands, fondling firmly. “God, no panties?” he groans, leaning his head back against the couch. “You planned this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his shocked expression. “I mean, I had hope? I wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with it,” you admit sheepishly, jumping a little when his hands slid from your ass to your inner thighs. “I can see I had nothing to worry about.”

He massaged your thighs idly. “I’ll be honest, I don’t usually do this on the second date,” he admits softly, mouthing little bites at the column of your neck. It had you trembling with excitement. “But...you’re an exception. I haven’t been able to think about anything else since we met.”

You bite down on your lower lip to contain the moan from his ministrations. “You can’t say things like that, Steve!” you manage, yelping when his fingers brush across the hair that leads to the part of you that ached most. 

“Why not?” he chuckled, nipping at your earlobe playfully. “Because you’re so moved by my poetic words?”

You could hardly think through the haze of arousal and excitement. His words were said with a bit of tease and a bit of spite...it was just enough to make you clench around nothing. “Steve,” you whine, gripping his bony shoulders desperately. 

“What’s wrong?” he chides teasingly, pulling his hands from your shorts. He ignored your despondent noise. “Now, now, don’t be like that. I want to take my time.”

His fingers slid up under your loose top to cup your breasts. “I-I need it now,” you complain, yelping when deft fingers pinched your nipples. “Please, Steve.”

He slowly lifts your shirt, making sure to tuck the fabric under them so that they bounce out once revealed. “Oh fuck,” he hissed, running his tongue across a hard nipple. “These are so gorgeous.”

You made a strangled sound of pleasure when he gently nipped at one. “Steve, you’re torturing me,” you whimper, unable to do anything but sit on his lap and let him have his way. 

“So needy,” he smirked, the expression completely changing his face. You felt your insides quiver when you realized he was going to be a disgustingly sexy mixture of both men you imagined earlier. “Go to your room and lay out on the bed for me.”

You shakily stood to your feet, unsure if you were able to disobey anything the artist said with that look in his eye. His hand gave a smart smack to your ass, causing a yelp to leave your lips at the sting and surprise of it. You looked back to see him with an eyebrow quirked. You weren’t sure why but you felt compelled to say, “Yes, sir.”

It was the right response by the look of heat and arousal in his eyes. “Be quick.”

On jello legs, you walked through the hallway to your room. Thankfully, you kept a pretty clean house but without the need for hiding things, you had left your favorite vibrator out on the bedside table. You debated on whether to put it away. No time, you could hear the couch creak so you just flopped onto the bed. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” you heard the man coo from the doorway. He was looking down at your body with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You’re gorgeous.”

He took a few steps into the room to reach the bed. You felt like you might tremble out of your skin when his hands gently ran up your ankles, across your shins and thighs. The path his eyes took felt just as tangible as his hands. He skipped your shorts to grab the waistband, pulling them down and off of your body with very little help.

You felt deliciously exposed to the man, lying there with nothing but the silky top covering your skin. Steve’s eyes drank you in before flicking up to meet your gaze. “Knees bent...spread out for me, sweetheart.”

It sounded so sweet but there was this edge to his voice. It made you want to follow his every command like a sweet pliant toy. “I have to admit, Steve,” you whisper, bending your knees slowly. You kept your knees firmly together as long as possible just to tease the man. “I never would have guessed you’d be so...commanding.”

The face of pleasure he made had your insides fluttering when you spread your legs open. “Oh fuck,” he hissed as if the mere sight of you caused him pain. You knew, for a fact, that it didn’t if the state of his pants were anything to go on. 

Speaking of which, you had to double take out of concern. “Steve…” you whispered, yelping when his hands started to slide down the inside of your thighs. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, wholly focused on your most intimate parts. 

“I don’t mean to be rude but...are you hiding a large phallic vegetable in your pants?” you question.

He laughs, face brightening with the expression. “No, I am not hiding a large vegetable in my pants,” he said with an absolutely filthy smirk. “Would you like to see?”

You moan, hating how much you loved his relentless teasing. “Yes, please!”

He leaned forward, kissing you slow and dirty. “Too bad, sweetheart. My clothes don’t come off until you’re begging,” he whispered against your lips. 

Your groan of pleasure and disappointment quickly changed into a yelp when his fingers brushed across your clit. Electric pleasure coursed through all of your nerve endings all at once. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, pushing up into his hand for more. 

“Stay still, Venus,” he commanded, kissing a path down your neck while his fingers drew lazy circles. “Or might just have to spank this pretty pussy.”

Steve-fucking-Rogers was going to be the most delicious undoing of your entire life and he hadn’t even pulled out his, apparently, monstrous cock. You could already feel the first orgasm coming on, which, while not unheard of for you to be this easy, was definitely not the norm. You just didn’t expect Steve, sweet little art professor Steve, to be so fucking dirty in all the right ways. 

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asked, catching your attention away from the distracting pleasure. He gained a hesitant, worried look on his face that made the mask of confidence crack a bit. “Is it too much? Should I back off?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a heated kiss. His fingers never stopped but sped up and changed patterns so frequently it made your head spin. “Steve Rogers,” you said firmly, looking him directly in the eyes. It was hard to be so serious when your orgasm was so fucking close. “Don’t you dare back off. You are the sexist man I’ve ever been in bed with an I haven’t even-fuck!”

All it took were two thin fingers to push inside of your entrance and crook perfectly for you to fall apart. Your body shuddered as the heat flooded through your system until you were whimpering. Steve didn’t stop, alternating between fucking into you with his fingers and pressing the heel of his palm against your clit. 

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he cooed with just a bit of sarcasm in his voice. “Cum all over my fingers.”

“S-Steve, god!” you cried out, grabbing onto the bed sheets for some kind of stability. “Please, I-I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he chuckled, shifting until he was lying flat on his stomach. Even knowing what was coming, it didn’t prepare you for the feel of his hot tongue running across your sensitive clit. He worked another finger into you while sucking and lapping with his mouth. 

You threw your head back when another orgasm, much more intense than the first several, crackled across your nerves. Still, he didn’t stop. He kept drawing abstract patterns on your clit, fucking into you with those amazing fingers and egging you on with dirty talk until you thought you might go insane. 

“Steve, please, please, I need-I need your cock,” you finally ended up begging, just like he said you would. “Fuck me, for the love of god!”

He pulled away from your throbbing, sensitive pussy with a damn near sinister grin on his face. “You sure? I bet I could drag another out of you,” he teased, kissing the inside of your quivering thigh. You watched with rapt attention as he bit down on the sensitive skin and sucked until you knew a mark would be left. He shouldn’t do that. It would be pretty noticeable at your job but...you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. 

“No, please, please just...I need you,” you whimper, reaching out to pull his shirt off his body. He looked a little nervous but you just smiled. “Steve, you have literally gotten me off a near dozen times. I want to see all of you.”

The smirk was back very quickly as he let you pull the shirt away. “Shirt off,” he commanded, watching intensely as you pulled the silky fabric off of your body. It was haphazardly tossed aside in just enough time to see him undo the strings of his sweatpants. 

Your mouth dried out when he pulled his cock out of his pants for you to see. It was...holy fuck...so good. It was definitely not what you thought the small guy was packing but, apparently, he was hung. “Holy fuck,” you groan, reaching out to stroke the hard flesh from base to tip. It pulled a low rumbled moan from the man who was quivering just as much as you were. “I want to put this in my mouth.”

He shoved you down into the bed while he shucked the pants away. “A different time, sweetheart, I need to be inside you first,” he smirked, kissing any protest from your mouth. He held up a condom that he must have had in his pocket. 

You gave him a knowing look. “It seems I wasn’t the only hopeful one,” you giggle, taking the condom from his hand. “I guess I should have asked if you regularly test before we started this, huh?”

“Just had one a week ago, I’ve got proof in my bag,” he replies quickly, looking like he might jump off to go grab it. You hold him fast. 

“I trust you, Steve. I’m clean too. Haven’t had sex in nearly a month,” you explain, tossing the condom away. “Also, I’ve got an IUD so no need for that unless you want it?”

“No,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss you again. “I want to feel you. Is that okay?”

You wrap your arms up around his back. “Yes, please, just get inside me,” you whisper, kissing him hard when you feel him adjust to rub his tip against your clit. It was incredibly sensitive but that didn’t stop you from enjoying the teasing. “Steve Rogers!”

“So needy,” he laughed, breaching your entrance. The satisfying stretch made you throw your head back into the pillow. “There you go, greedy girl.”

His cock felt so fucking good after so much teasing and so many orgasms. So good that you felt yourself ograsm just from the first thrust, which would have been embarrassing if the dark look in Steve’s eyes didn’t distract you. Your body was on fire as he started to move.

“God, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he moaned, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m not going to last.”

You ran your hands through his hair, body shaking from the feel of him dragging across every inch of your insides. “Don’t care just-oh!-keep moving!” you whimper, hardly able to make coherent sounds. 

He picks up the pace until you can’t see straight or think. His pace, while steady, wasn’t too fast but that didn’t matter. It felt so good. So fucking good you didn’t want him to stop but knew he was close by the way his body tensed. 

He pulled away quickly, stroking himself a few more times before painting your stomach and chest with his cum. You went boneless against the bed, body humming from the pleasure and afterglow. It took you a moment to realize Steve was staring at you.

“Sorry, you look so pretty covered in my cum,” he smirked deviously. 

“Fuck, Steve!” you laugh, pussy clenching around nothing like you weren’t sore and sensitive still. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Too much?” he teased, getting up to go towards your bathroom. 

You scoff, watching him grab a washcloth and wet it. “Hell no. Give me a few minutes and I’ll suck you off so hard you’ll forget your name.”

You expected him to laugh but instead, he had a sinister grin on his face. “Is that so?” he smirked, wiping the rag across your chest. “I look forward to it.”

#steve rogers x y/n #begging #pre serum steve #steve rogersxreader #steve rogers x reader #nsftumblr

[myherokatsuki]

this art and a conversation with a friend got me thinking about art student!bakugou and my third eye is open. not me missing my own art school days >_>

— art student!bakugou, whose art resembles an explosive imitation of jackson pollock—bold colours literally thrown at a canvas, abstract splatters that please him as much as the act of creation does, letting his pent up emotions out as he flings the paint across the room. Once finished he steps back to admire the composition, going back in with finer details until he’s satisfied, his inner perfectionist not letting him rest until he’s completely happy with it, often leaving him splattered with as much paint as the canvas.

— art student!bakugou, who can’t stand critiques, rolling his eyes at his classmates’ bullshit pretentious answers, so obviously pulled out of their ass to impress the professor and make them look like they’re so deep. When it’s his turn to present his work he opts instead for brutal honestly about the piece and the meaning behind it. “I just like the way it looks. Does it have to be deeper than that?”

— art student!bakugou, who’s been putting off taking life drawing because he doesn’t wanna sit in front of an easel for hours at a time drawing the same thing over and over, but knows he has to because it’s a required course. Despite his reluctance he goes into the class determined to be the best anyway because he doesn’t half ass anything.

— art student!bakugou, who doesn’t blink twice when you disrobe and take your spot in the middle of the room, holding a pose for the class to draw. But you can’t help but flush as you feel his eyes on you, studying you as he begins to scribble furiously, capturing your form on his newsprint. His vermilion stare is so intense it only reminds you of just how naked you are, and the rest of the room falls away in it’s intimacy, your attention completely held by him. Each stroke of his charcoal against the paper feels like a caress and you wonder what his callused artist hands would feel like on your skin. By the time the class is over Bakugou’s face is charcoal smudged and he finally realizes as you step down to cover yourself that you’re real and he flushes as he stares at your face on his easel.

— art student!bakugou who looks forward to the days you’re the model, not only because you do the most interesting poses, but because he loves drawing your face, your expressions—you captivate him. After each class when you meander the room, his easel always leaves you stunned at how well he captures your likeness, the attention to detail breathtaking. You jump when you realize he’s still there, waiting for you, asking quietly if you’d like to walk with him. He offers to shoulder your bag even though he’s already carrying his heavy portfolio and tackle box of supplies.

— art student!bakugou who flushes when you ask if you can draw him sometime in return, not having realized you were a student yourself, but agrees, shrugging and muttering a “sure, why not?” Little did he realize you meant you wanted to draw him nude, the drawing session turning into something a little more heated, and you get to find out how nice those callused hands feel on your skin, no longer needing to just imagine. Now when you model for his class his gaze holds a promise of what he’ll do to you afterwards and it’s all you can do to keep from getting too aroused.

#joz.thirst #bakugou thirst #art student!bakuou #bakugou imagines

[kkusuka]

Y/n and either Ushijima, Suna or Sugawara ((I couldn’t decide so you pick 😫)) put paint on themselves and then fuck on a canvas to hang up in there house. Nobody would ever know that the art they were just admiring was made by Y/n and him having seggs 😂😂

✨Puppy🤩

i’m gonna do Toshi and Rin because i couldn’t think of something for suga, if i do i might post something for him bc i really like the prompt lol

ushijima wakatoshi <3

at times he hated the fact the collage required him to take an art class. he was there on a full scholarship for volleyball, not art.

most of the time he didn’t care all that much, he could draw and use the class pastels for an hour two days a week. and he was no Picasso but he was passing so that was all he could ask for.

well that’s what he thought until about an hour ago when he remembered that his midterm, what will be 40% of his semester grade, was due in the morning. it was fairly open, only had a few restrictions, it had to be on a 36’x48’ canvas and must have a single medium, he chose paint because it seemed easy at the time.

well now he was sitting in front on the white canvas, mind completely void of creative inspiration, and he had practice in two hours. making things about one-thousand times worse was that his social media was full of women painting their nudes, a trend he knew you had tried.

“toshi? you’ve been sitting there for forty-five minutes, are you ok?”

the idea hit him like a truck, his teacher said they could do whatever they wanted and that’s what he was going to do.

“y/n? will you help me out for a few minutes?” he inquired, drawing your body into the room.

you never really knew what ushijima was thinking, his stone cold facade didn’t spare you in times like this. though you could see the burning in his eyes as he waved you over where he had gotten sky blue and violet cans of paint.

without a word, you watched had he began to tug your sweats down your legs.

“whoa! what are you doing?” he just picked up some of the paint before looking up to you.

“i’m going to fuck you on it.” his stated as if he was talking about ordering lunch. not waiting for your reply he smeared the blue onto the front of your thighs along your full legs.

“take of your shirt.” doing what he said he immediately began rubbing the paint onto your stomach, throughly coating your breasts, twisting your nipples and the skin underneath, all the way up to the base of your neck.

he turn you by your waist, pressing your body to the canvas that was hanging along the wall.

you would ask him if this was appropriate, but you didn’t have a chance before he was opening your folds and pushing his tip int your cunt.

“you’re wet already? all i’ve done was put paint on you, are you that much of an unstable whore?” his words and how unfazed he sounded sent another wave of heat down your walls. snapping his hips to your sent you furthers into the now colors portion of your art.

“toshi, not— not to hard-“ a smack to your ass accompanied with a harsh thrust your your cervix shut you up.

his dick was carving its was into your walls, you’d been dating for years but he made you feel like a virgin.

you were never out that the weight of his thrusts would rip the canvas, you worries thrown from your mind as his dick hit the sweet spot in your depths, squirting your cum into his thighs. halting his thrusts you felt a cold, wet substance drip over you back. you felt the pads of his fingers rub it all over your back before moving his hands to your hips, giving you a glimpse of the blue coating his palms.

“you don’t think we’re done do you?” he mocked, pulling you off his for a split second before pressing your back to your masterpiece, the blue joining your mess of purple, “i haven’t cum yet so out painting is not completed.”

suna rintarou <3

“there you go messy slut! go ahead rub those pretty tits on the board,” suna’s mocking words were accompanied with a flick of your clit, “you want everyone to know what we did on this don’t you?”

he had brought up the idea after seeing something like it on instagram, but he really just wanted physical proof that he was the best fuck you’ll ever get.

“rin-ri- i, please!”

“oh baby, this is going to look so pretty. i’m gonna hang it in our living room so everyone can see it! they’ll have no idea but whenever you see it you’ll remember how i fucked you dumb.” he sneered, pushing your torso further into the canvas.

his cock plunged in and out of your hole garnered with the wet slaps of skin. grabbing your hair to pull your head back he forced you to look at him as you came around his cock, him following in suit.

•••

“that’s a really cool painting where’d y’all get it?”

oh aran, why did you have to ask in a room full of people? you had decorations handing all around your house and he asks about the one thing you can’t explain without stuttering.

“me and y/n made it together, right? it was so much fun.” suna chimed from across the room where he was speaking with kita and osamu.

“yeah honey, we did!” you smiled, faking a laugh while observing the multiple disruption in the paint from where you had dropped wetness onto the board.

•

tags: @bakugos-cumsock

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader smut #ushijima wakatoshi x reader smut #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna smut #suna x reader smut #suna x reader #suna rinatro #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader

[cower-before-power]

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon.  “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles.  “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey​ @chaotic-nick​ @manjiroarchiviste​

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it. 

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | You are on Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you. 

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together. 

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten. 

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation. 

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all. 

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned. 

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms. 

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’ 

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present. 

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?” 

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up. 

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug. 

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously. 

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it. 

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious. 

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box. 

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away. 

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt. 

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss. 

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this. 

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you. 

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was. 

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully. 

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was. 

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place. 

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

#renjun fic #renjun angst #kpopscape #ficscafe #renjun fluff #huang renjun #renjun #nct #nct au #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct dream au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #renjun x reader #renjun x you #nct angst #nct fluff #nct humor #kpop fic #kpop fluff #we met in online class

[miyalove]

➳˚｡⋆ MUTUAL CONNECTION.

➳ pairing. roommate!kuroo x fem!reader x (slight) terushima

➳ warnings. slight dubcon (kuroo listen’s to reader having sex), voyeurism, swearing, masturbation (male), pining

➳ notes. thank you for 500 followers! here’s a spicy fic to celebrate... if it gets enough love then maybe a part two will be out

2.4k | thinking you were going to be home alone, you decide to invite your favorite fling over to have a good time. surpisingly, you’re not alone and your roommate kuroo is torn between letting you know that or locking himself up in his room to torture himself.

he’s in some deep shit now. the playfully cocky man is grown enough to admit that. as much as he wanted to blame you for his trouble, he’s adult enough to admit that maybe… just maybe, this one is on him. you thought that he was out and with fair reason too. he did text you saying so; ‘late classes. don’t wait up’. only it turned out that his professor had a last minute change of plans because as he got to class, on the door was a note detailing how they were canceled.

it wasn’t much of a sweat for him though. he wouldn’t mind a day home alone with his thoughts. it would allow him to catch up (and even get ahead) in most of his classes so this was basically water under the bridge. instantly, his feelings of serenity changed when you arrived home and not alone either, but with your current prey— terushima.

he was a younger guy compared to kuroo, but not by much. fit, intelligent, a cosmetology major (so he never looked bad) and kuroo knows just how much of a good dude he is in bed too. courtesy of you, of course. every now and then, you’d get into tangents about your flings and terushima was the only one that you had only good things to say about. it wasn’t as if he was jealous though. please, kuroo feels all emotions but he prides himself on not feeling that on. him? jealous? nothing of the sort, really.

he thought you were hot and when the two of you meet for the first time, there was just something that clicked. you got along so well with him like puzzle pieces perfectly slotting together. you two got along so well that since then you were practically attached by the hip. that was nearly a year ago, when you meet. if the circumstances were different he might have made a move on you, but things are complicated now because even if he thinks about what you would look like underneath him; he can’t make a move.

you guys are roommates. he missed his opportunity to have something more once he asked you to move in with him. and you being a broke college student, just like him, happily said yes. it would become awkward if things didn’t work out because hell— he’d be living with his ex which could make a great plot to a cliche hallmark movie but not to his life.

for now, he’d have to keep things on the down low. even if you constantly came at him with flirty teasing. it happened mostly when you were drunk— everyone tends to have more courage when they’re 5 shots deep in tequila. however, there are some instances of ‘friendly’ flirting that happens especially when you’re sober. he doesn’t miss the vague compliments that, if either of you questioned, things would start spiraling. he doesn’t miss the stares that last a little too long or touches that linger for a split second longer than needed. the way you giggle a little too much to not be considered flirting.

but even at that, even with fate constantly pushing the two of you together be it through classes, parties, or running into each other on the street; he never made a move and neither did you. and at first, he was okay with that, but right now not so much because right fucking now, he’s stuck in his room wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

he didn’t even know you were still seeing terushima. sure, you bragged about how great he is in bed but you were more of a one and done kind of girl (as you lovingly explained to him one drunken escapade). so to see the bleach blonde again (in his own house of all places) with you straddling his lap rubbed kuroo in a way that was anything but pleasant. he didn’t want to be subjected to this kind of torture so he figured running into his bedroom would be a good solution to his problem.

he anticipated just blasting music in his headphones. drown out whatever was happening just a few feet away from him. arriving at his destination, he gently shut the door to his room. throwing himself on his bed and reaching for his laptop, he’s glad that the noises haven’t started up yet. but when he searches his bag for his headphone and nothing comes up, it then dawns on him that he leaned his pair to a friend and now he is more fucked than you.

he panicking. a low whine of despair escaped his lips as he felt pity stir in his chest for himself. just his luck that his pretty roommate was fucking a completely different dude and he’d have to sit her and take it like some kind of incompetent loser. he contemplated going out there to stop whatever was happening. to just maybe knock on his door or yell out to you, to have you guys know that he’s in here and it’s not just you and terushima. yeah, just yell out to you guys would be easy, right? open the door, scream a simple “please don’t!” and done. he so sure that his plan is golden that he reaches for his door knob with a grin.

but then he hears you moan.

and his eyes widened at the sweet sound.

he can’t help but freeze up. how could something so lewd sound to pretty? his grip on the knob tightens. kuroo finds himself thinking hard to himself. this is so bad. even if he’s heard how pretty you sound, doesn't meant anything. as a good roommate, hell, as a good friend, he should go out there and tell you what’s up.

but then he hears your pleas again, however it’s not a moan this time. you let out a shakily sigh that was followed by some other words that he couldn’t really make out because of the distance. you sounded so needy, so desperate to have someone touch you to make you feel good. the mere thought of you desperately pleading with that pretty little mouth of yours made him dizzy.

with everything that’s happening, it makes sense that his dick starts to stiffen. he fumbled about his room. trying so damn hard to ignore the growing pain in his cock. he did some quiet jumping jacks, paced around his room, and tried to drawn everything out by screaming in his head.

it seemed that most things where to no effort. when he hears you let out a low groan followed by the succulent sound of wet lips kissing at your skin is when he finally lets go. desperately kuroo’s hand clutches his crotch over his shorts as he tried to control his thoughts and raging desires. he pleaded with himself to keep it cool, but no matter his attempts, it felt like his dick had a mind of it’s own— which it does.

no matter how hard he shut his eyes, or how loud he blasted super bass in his head, he couldn’t get the image of you naked out of his thoughts— you were probably fully nude by now, underwear (if you were even wearing any) scattered across the living room floor. he imagines that you’d wear something elegant yet contradicting sexy. lingerie that framed your body perfectly. kuroo would have to demand you to take them off or he’d rip into them himself. you’d be on full display just for him— terushima, he meant. not like him him. dear god, he felt sick but at the same time so fucking horny. it’s a weird combo that only you could ever invoke from him.

would you be weirded out if he jerked off to the idea of you having sex with someone else? of course, you would! it takes a special kind of crazy to think that you’d be okay with him just barging in on your private time. there’s no other way around it. you’d probably hate him for the rest of your life, if you were to find out what he was doing. but it’s not like he can do anything about it. it’s not like he can not not listen to you.

it’s far too late to interrupt now because he’ll look like some kind of perv that was actually enjoying listening in on his roommate fucking another guy. when his head start to finally clear, a deeper voice erupts from the intimate silence. it’s  terushima.

“you want me to fuck you right here, baby?” he breathed out. even with the distance, kuroo could hear the leather of the couch shift. he only can only imagine how you two are positioned right now. “what if your roommate sees?”

“then he can enjoy the show,” he knew you were just playing along. drawing out the teasing to further your play time with terushima but it’s startling really because— if only you knew.

at this point, kuroo thinks he’s about to explode. he could practically hear the smirk you had on. the way you were dripping with lust had him biting back a groan. the things you do to him when you’re not even doing him was insane. he tried to block his thoughts out, think about something that’ll kill his boner but nothing came to mind.

nothing could kill his intense wanting when all he could picture was that he was the one making you moaning right now. that it was his name that you were grunting as you ride his cock. the thoughts made his dick impossibly harder, the pressure building up so much that it felt like he had no choice but to rub it over the fabric of his shorts.

it was like his body was acting without thinking as he began panting quietly to himself. when the sound of your voice got louder, his pace over the fabric quickens. his cheeks flush at the scandalous act. there is no way he’s rubbing one out to the sound of you fucking another guy.

but then your voice gets more needy, pleading with a desperation that kuroo couldn’t help but wish was for him. something inside him snaps. then all at once he’s betraying his thoughts. he’s not thinking straight when he finally pulls his shorts down. sighing in relief as his dick springs up, slapping his abdomen.  

he waste no time wrapping his hand around his cock. eyes fluttering close when he gets a good rhythm going. slowly pumping when he hears you whining. then quickening his pace when he hears your moans getting faster. the slapping of skin on skin contact making his imagination grow wilder. he can’t help it really. picturing you all spread out, taking his cock like the good girl he hopes you are. your expression shifting to absolute bliss when he hits your sweet spot. he’s drowning in pure pleasure. his body completely laxed as he slumps over.

he slows when he hears your voice again, “god, fuck. just like that.”

it’s airy and pitched. begging and praising terushima as he fucks you perfectly. the image of you taking him— kuroo (not your other stupid fling), makes his breath hitch.

“f-fuck,” he mutters. his hand picks up speed. so many thoughts running through his head. mainly of you spiraled out in his favorite position, and so wet that his cock would just slide into your pussy easy. you’d be begging him to go harder and with such a sweet fucked out voice, how could he say no? he’d grab your hips and slam into you. you’d practically forget who the hell terushima was if, kuroo has his way with you.

hearing your moans pick up, his imagination gets the best of him. his hand pumps faster and faster. his body feels hot as he imagines your tight pussy swallowing his cock, sucking him in ever time he tries to pull out. he pictures you to be greedy in bed wanting every inch of him inside you and pounding so hard into you’d practically be seeing stars. he imagines running his hands gently through your pretty hair, petting you every once in a while and cooing about how much of a good girl you are. he’d be ready to pull at your roots if you even dare to tease him because he knows you’d try something as cunning as that. you’d do it with pleasure, a smirk plastered on your lips and nothing but trouble lining your hues.

“oh god– fuck.” he’s nearing the edge. he can feel the brink of his heat snapping. as if the gods are finally righting their wrongs. your melodious moaning reaches his ears.

“fuck. i’m– i’m gonna cum!” if this were any other circumstance, kuroo would say that it was romantic. the two of you finishing together. the blissful ride coming to an possibly wholesome end. silks of white hot pleasure filling you up and just when you think it’s over, he’d lean down one hand gripping your thigh while his long slender fingers go to work on stuffing all the leaking cum back into you. fuck. you’d be squirming under his touch caught between begging him to stop or wanting to go again and again and again…

opening his eyes, kuroo’s hues are meant with darkness. a stickiness all over his hands and tummy that he’s come to be all to familiar with at this point. he wishes he could finish how he imagined but he has to snap back into reality every once in a while. a bitter feeling fills his chest, a huge shift from his lust filled yearning a few seconds ago. things were certainly going to be a little weird from now on. kuroo considers himself quite the extrovert (sorta) but he’s kind of terrified to see how he’ll naturally react to you now that– that that has all went down.

taking one last look at the white strings that cover his body, he let’s out a way too loud (especially given the circumstance) groan. grabbing at a dirty towel he starts to clean himself off. when warm thoughts of you invade his memory again, he grimaces a fluttery feeling overcoming him.

“oh, i’m so fucked,” tossing the towel somewhere in his room. he falls asleep to the sound of your soft giggles as his soundtrack.

#dubcon #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #hq x reader

[rein4r1]

Mr. Artiste

Wc: 2.7k

Warning/s: Mentions of possessive behavior

Pairing/s: [Titanic AU] Jean x F!Reader, Floch x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Synopsis: Meeting him was like breathing fresh air in her already suffocating life. (Titanic Au)

MINORS DNI

“What is it? A sapphire?”

“A diamond. A very rare diamond, called the Heart of Ymir.” She watches Jean as he examines the exorbitant jewel. “I want you to draw me like one of your Maria girls.” He continues to examine the diamond, clearly finding it’s luxury unbelievable. “Wearing this.” She stared at him and smiled, “wearing only this.”

He did this many times before, drawing different kinds of women not only in Maria but in Rose as well, the place of his hometown. As an artist, women’s bodies were one of the greatest subjects to draw, they were intricate to draw but not intricate to understand. This kind of artwork is often shunned upon by the simplecrowd who were too fickle to understand, viewing this kind of art as licentious. Jean begged to differ, whenever he draws women, their eyes bore into his soul, as if whispering to him a secret that they can only emanate through their nude form.

Jean waited patiently, sharpening his set of pencil with a knife. His sketchbook open, ready to feel each stroke of Jean’s gifted hands. Seeing her withdraw from her room, he can’t help but swallow a lump in his throat; completely enamored by his lover in front of him, he could only look away. Wearing only a nightrobe and The Heart of Ymir underneath, she teasingly spins the tie of her robe, only to worsen the forming bulge in his pants. No matter how alluring and charming the woman is, he knew that as an artist, he must keep everything completely professional.

“The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like an oriental doll. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.” Quickly tossing him a silver coin. Jean could only watch as she parted her nightrobe in a teasing manner, the article of clothing slowly drops from her body to the floor. ‘Ah shit’, he can’t help but feel the tightening of his already harden bulge. Poor Mr. Artist, trying so hard to ignore the aroused pain in between his pants.

“Sit down, uhh yeah there on the… yup.” He awkwardly point for on the chaise lounge. She happily obliges, eyes never leaving his brown orbs. “What now Mr. Kirstein?” He then proceeds to give instructions on where to place her hands. “Keep your eyes on me, and try to stay still.”

“I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. Do you like what you see?” He could only chuckle, the deep tone of his voice resonating the quiet room. She watches as he starts drawing on his sketchpad, looking at his seriousness adoringly. She cannot deny the affection she holds for this man, to her, Jean became the fresh air in her already suffocating life.

She spent her entire life conforming to her mother’s standards, doing anything to please the woman. Becoming the perfect Marleyan lady, she grew up in her mother’s strict surveillance, from hiring the best of the bestgoverness in Liberio to sending her to the most exclusive boarding school in Marley. She grew up a life of servitude to her family’s glory, she felt no different from a luxurious porcelain doll; handled with care for her expensive value.

After the death of her father, they were left with nothing but numerous debts under a glorious name. Needless to say, all of the wealth her family has accumulated throughout generations are gone, they were just a penniless family with a noble name.

The widower then met a young wealthy man and heir to a mining company in Paradis, Floch Forster. Since he had the money to salvage whatever dignity they have left, she immediately forcibly subjected her daughter to an arranged marriage with the young heir.

You see, Floch and her mother weren’t any different, treating her like some beautiful garment to parade in gatherings and parties, she secretly came to loath whatever her life became. And in order to please her mother and save her family’s face, she begrudgingly accepted the proposal. They were set to marry in winter, after their arrival to Paradis.

“So, this is the ship they say is unsinkable” Her mother noted as her eyes glanced at the large ship, taking its aesthetic and magnificence. “It is unsinkable. God himself couldn’t sink this ship.” Floch said condescendingly and bumptious. In front of them is the largest ship known to man, the Colossus. The servants proceeded to handle their possessions as Y/N could only marvel at its glory.

She couldn’t accept her mother’s selfishness and her fiancé’s possessive behavior any longer, leading her to the edge of the ship’s deck in a break down. She reluctantly looks at the ocean below with tears cascading her skin, she could only hope for a life where she isn’t treated less than a luxurious property.

“Don’t do it” She whips her head to see a young brunette man in white shirt and brown slacks. Glaring at the young man, she turns her head away, her sight getting blurry of the tears.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

“Take my hand I’ll pull you in.”

“No! Stay Where you are. I mean it. I’ll let go!”

“No, you won’t.” She whips her head back to the man, looking at him with an unbelievable expression. “What do you mean I won’t?” She noticed how calm this man was, but unbeknownst to her, the man internally panics and fears for the girl’s life. He could only retort her that if she really meant what she said, she would’ve jumped without having second thoughts.

She noticed him taking his boots off one by one. Carefully threading near her as to not scare the girl. “I’m a good swimmer” he said, “but I’m more worried about the water being cold. You see I grew up in Trost somewhere in Rose, and God the winter there is cold. I went ice-fishing with my father, well… Ice-fishing is where you-“

“For God’s sake, I know what an ice-fishing is!”

“I apologize, you don’t come off as an outdoor kind of girl. Well, you see, water that cold,” he points to the dark ocean below, “It hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... at least not the freezing pain that welcomes you.” He proceeds to offer his outstretched hand on which she could only look with a bemused expression.

“I know I look crazy, but I don’t really look forward to jumping with you… That’s why can you take my hand?” She reluctantly reaches for his hand, “My name’s Jean Kirstein, and I promise I won’t let go.” He pulls her away from the railings, resulting in falling together onto the deck with Jean below her. She could only wrap her arms tightly as she whimpers on his neck, he then brought his hand to pat her head, hoping it would stop the tears that continuously descend from her eyes.

Jean knows of the girl, well not her name, but how could he forget such an ethereal lady that managed to entrance his artistic eyes, ‘the lady from the upper deck’ as he dubbed her. Just a few moments ago, he was just lounging around some bench, smoking as he thought of the winsome girl from the upper deck, clearly a place that penniless folks like him could only dream of.

After a couple of minutes of sniffling on his shirt, she looked up to Jean. And in an instant, she quickly stood up, failingly brushing off the creases that already formed on her dress. They quietly studied each other’s appearance, feeling as if there’s something there. Their moment only lasted a short while when Floch came in running towards her, dragging her away from Jean.

“Who are you? And what did you do to her?!”

“Floch stop! He saved me! It was silly actually; Mr. Kirstein was there when I almost slip from the deck.” She had her arm around Floch, tugging him to appease his anger. He eyed at him suspiciously, as he took her hand to drag her off the deck, she could only look at his retreating figure, hoping that he could see the man in the morning to thank him properly.

She saw him again, at the interior part of the third-class general room, talking to some fellows she assumed he’s acquainted with. “Hello there Jean” she glanced at the two men beside him, they quickly stood up to leave the both of them to converse alone, clearly not wanting to intrude. They quietly walked along the deck, her eyes wondering at the laughing faces of the children who passes them.

“Uhh, so you got a name by the way?”

“Y/n, Y/n L/n” She paused for a bit, as she completely turned to Jean to look at him. “Jean... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you.”

“Well, here you are.”

“Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?”

“That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she thought she had no way out.” She could only smile at his statement. Truthfully, she ranted to him how tiring it is to stand still like some wired doll, how disrespected she felt when they used her. She truly felt used, but this man didn’t invalidate her feelings, rather, he listened to her attentively. This was the first time she was able to talk to someone like this, it felt refreshing. Conversing with Jean brought comfort she didn’t knew existed.

“That turnip yesterday, is he with them?”

“Turnip? Oh, Floch! Ugh he is them.” She displayed her engagement ring, symbolizing the beautiful prison chain on her finger. “God he’s much worse than being just them.”

“So, you felt trapped in a loop ‘cause you’re marrying turnip?”

“Yes! Exacty!”

They continued to converse, more about how she should just run away and not marry the turnip looking man. If only it was easy, then she would’ve been away from those snobbish people, away from the circumstances that led her to this. The feeling she felt with Jean was… different, she spent her whole life being dismissed by the people around her. Having someone to listen to you in a genuine manner was stimulating.

“What’s that on your hand?” Glancing at the brown envelope on Jean’s hand.

“It’s nothing…”

“No let me see.” She then snatched the envelope away, revealing a sketchbook with sublime artwork. With her already existing fascination in art, she can’t help but feel astonished.

“These are really beautiful Jean…” she continues to flip the pages of the sketchbook, “you have a gift.” As she flipped to the next page, she saw drawings of women, wearing nothing but themselves.

“Amazing… are these drawn in, you know, real life?”

“Yup, that’s what’s great in Maria girls, willing to take their clothes off.” She then noticed a reoccurring subject in his artwork.

“This woman, you used her as your muse several times.”

“Well, she really did have beautiful hands.”

“If I may presume, you must’ve had a love affair with her.” She looks at him playfully at his rather defensive demeanor.

“No! I swear, just with her hands.” He laughs. Jean feels the erratic beating of his heart as he gets lost at the depths of her eyes. He felt it, this woman, no matter how imprisoned she felt, is a someone strong who can handle even the harshest of waves and the most blinding light from sun. He could only stare at her elegance, feeling the heat rising up to his cheeks, Jean felt different from this young lady, like he knows her all along. He wanted to take her away, no he didn’t want to save her, because he knew that the only one who can save her is herself. But he wants her to depend on him, become her solace and provide her the serenity she deserves.

They spent their days together in the Colossus; learning about each other and teaching each other knew things. They could not deny the growing feelings that’s starting to form, she knew it was wrong to fall in love with him, considering her engagement to Floch. But she doesn’t love Floch, how could she grow to love such a chauvinistic man. Floch viewed her as a possession, but Jean viewed her as a person. It wasn’t long when they acknowledged their feelings for each other, sharing a kiss on the bow of the ship, the setting sun becoming a witness to the couple’s profound love.

“It’s finished” He gestured her to see the finished artwork. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as she studies the intricacies and pencil work on the drawing. They turned to look at each other with loving eyes as they shared a slow but sensual kiss. They pulled away from the kiss as Jean’s hand found place on her face, rubbing his thumb on her cheek affectionately, as their foreheads press together.

In fear of Floch and his lackey learning Jean’s presence in their cabin, they quickly ran away to God knows where. They arrive at the ship’s luggage room as they saw a car parked at the middle. Jean pulled her hand towards it as he sat on the driver’s seat, and she sat the passenger’s seat just at the back of Jean.

“Where to Ma’am?” He playfully asks as his hands are placed on the wheel, pretending to drive her to places. She wrapped her hand around him, as she whispers to his ear, “to the stars.”

She pulls him inside, sitting on the backseat of the car, they stared at each other with a loving but lustful gaze. With a growing desire to embrace each other, Jean felt her hands travel to his already bulged member, rubbing it slowly as if to tease him.

“Fuck Y/n don’t tease me.” He proceeds to kiss her full of thirst, like a starved man, starved of her. She sat on top of his lap, she knew she needed him now, she guided his hands to her breasts as she slowly grinded on his clothed dick. “Want you know, please Jean, I want you to make love to me.” He instantly discarded their clothes as he left wet kisses on her neck, treading his hands slowly on her back to her already wet core as he rubbed small circles on her hardened nub, she could only burry her face on his neck, face contorting in pleasure as she continues to grind on his hardened cock.

“Feels so good, your cock feels so good” Grinding to their high, Jean shoots his cum towards his stomach. He lifted her up to position his member on top of her core.

“Are you sure you want this? With me?”

“Yes, fuck, Jean hurry!” He then proceeds to enter her throbbing core, feeling her walls tighten around him. Placing his hands on her waist, he slowly began to buckle his hips. “Fuck Y/n you’re so tight, so fucking tight around my- ugh” he holds her hips only to slam it back down on his cock, eliciting a moan from her pretty mouth. He started to quicken his pace, her hands around his shoulders as she they traveled towards his chest. His thrust hitting that one spot that made her drown more in pleasure.

“Baby you feel so good around my cock, fuck.” He felt her tighten around him, signaling the coming of her second high.

“Jean ‘m coming! I’m coming!”

“Cum baby, don’t hold back,” As his thrusts getting faster and deeper, she felt the height of her sex and she came around him. He continued to thrust into her as he chased his own high and he shot his load of cum inside her. Jean then slowly removed his member, as he places her once again in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her figure while he kisses her temple, embracing her like it’s his last day on earth.

Not knowing that their first night together will also be their last.

An: I had to rewatch some of the clips from the Titanic aaohaoigha anyway I'm still trying to learn how to write smut sooo

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #floch forster #floch forster x reader #floch x reader #attack on titan #aot #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagine #aot imagines #snk imagines

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (4/5)

Still working on this for @peachworthy. Should wrap up sometime this week or next and then the full thing'll get posted to AO3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here for now!

They decide to do it on a Saturday night.

Link has the weekend off from work and no classes. Rhett’s schedule is also free. They discuss the matter in terse terms, both seeming nervous about the idea, but neither backing down.

As such, Saturday rolls around with little fanfare until late into the evening. An evening that finds Link sitting on the couch, one of his legs jiggling and bouncing about as he waits for Rhett.

Rhett comes out to the living room holding a pillow and he offers it to Link. Link looks at it with some confusion and his friend clears his throat, eyes darting away, “For your lap.”

“My-?” Link looks down and then to Rhett and then…oh. Link colors, realizing that the pillow is to be used in order to cover any potentially ‘arising’ situation on his part. Feel exposed yet stubborn, he remarks dryly, “Don’t think I’ll need that.”

Rhett lets out a loud laugh and pats him in the chest with it, “Trust me. If I’ve done my job right? You will.”

“…point taken,” Link says softly and he takes the pillow, settling it over his crotch. To be fair, he probably will pop wood. After all, he sometimes pops it when Rhett’s full clothed.

Nude?

Yeah.

Link presses down on the pillow harder, even the errant thought of a nude Rhett causing a stirring. Rhett walks to the television and fiddles with the remote.

An app that Link’s noticed before, but never bothered with, is clicked on. Erotes Plus. The screenshots for the videos that come up are…certainly something. Link looks away, almost overwhelmed by all the bare flesh before him. The titles of the videos are also a bit much. Rhett notices and Link can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Prude.”

Link scowls and glares back at him and the screen. He is nota prude. However, titles such as ‘Lonely Housewife Squirts for The First Time’ and ‘He Rides His Daddy Dry’ would take anybody aback. At least Link would like to think so – he supposes some people are more immune than others. After all, his own history with porn is on the small side.

During puberty he’d taken his healthy peeks at nude magazines and a few of his friends had snuck out adult VHS tapes to check out, but for the most part it hadn’t interested him. Granted, this was probably due to his eventual discovery that – while he appreciated the female form – it didn’t draw his interest quite like the male one did.

And finding gay porn? Where he grew up? Yeah, pretty much a completely impossibility. And then – when he’d finally managed to snag some – it had, once more, disappointed. It all just seemed so cold and callous. Like a business transaction with a boatload of grunting. Not at all to his tastes.

Rhett, scrolling through the videos, finally finds one titled simply ‘Movement’ and turns to Link with an apprehensive glance, “Still plenty of time to say ‘no’.”

Link’s throat is dry. Unlike some of the other screenshots, this one is vaguer. It’s two forms silhouetted in shadow. One of those forms is Rhett. Link feels numb as he speaks, “I’m good.”

Rhett clicks the video and it begins.

He moves over and sits near Link, lounging against the other side of the couch in an oh-so-casual way. As if an adult video starring him hasn’t just begun to play.

The film opens with a lithe redhead in a yoga outfit doing various poses. While this is being shown the title card appears followed by the starring and since Link highly doubts Rhett goes by ‘Jenessa Star’, he can’t help but chuckle at, “‘Donatello Velvet’?”

“What?” Rhett asks simply and Link gestures to the television, “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That’s the screen name you chose?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just don’t see you as a ‘Donatello’,” Link grins at him and Rhett laughs, rubbing one finger along his top lip thoughtfully, “What would you’d’ve gone with then?”

“If I was doing adult film?” Link asks and at Rhett’s nod, he crosses his arms and thinks, “I don’t know…Bevin, maybe?”

Rhett tosses his head back and laughs and Link feels a fissure of delight at that sound, just as he always does. He turns back and the redhead’s poses have become…much more complex. Almost painful looking as she contorts herself to degrees Link wouldn’t think possible and then she rises, stretching out and that’s when Rhett enters.

Or maybe it would be better to think of it as Donatello enters. Yes, it’s a little easier that way and Link does his best to cling to that, to try and stay nonchalant as he offers dryly, “Well, well – there’s a familiar lookin’ fella.”

Rhett just hums and they both watch as he walks up to the woman. He runs his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, whispering into her neck huskily, “Good form.”

Link can’t help but let out a snort. Rhett rolls his eyes, “Okay, okay – I know, I know. Dialogue’s a bit-?”

“Bad?”

“…it could use some improvement.”

“Uh huh,” Link just beams and hey, this isn’t so bad. Cheesy and kind of silly and maybe it will just stay like this. Light and fun. For all Link knows, they won’t even watch the whole thing. Maybe just some of it and then they can turn on something els-!

Rhett begins kissing Jenessa’s neck, white teeth visibly dragging along her skin and Link’s whole body tightens. A phantom sting starts along the same side of his neck that Rhett’s touching on Jenessa. Jenessa’s whole throat arches back, a pleasured moan leaving her and Rhett’s tongue is…very pink.

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he says (much huskier than he’d like) “N-Nice camera work…”

Rhett just hums, “Mac’s always had a good eye.”

“Mac?”

“Mackenzie, the director of this one.”

Link just lets out a sound of acknowledgement as he watches Rhett reach around Jenessa and tug at her tank top. Tug until her small, pointed breasts pop free. He cups them in his hands and he has…great hands.

They looks so tan against her skin, palms rough and big, and Jenessa lets out a full throttle moan. Rhett teases the pink tips, fingertips agile as they play along the sensitive flesh, as they circle around her areolas.

She whimpers and turns, kisses him fully, passionately, and it’s…messy. Wet. Link can feel his whole heart thump hard at the sight. Janessa’s hair is shorter than Rhett’s – cropped close to her scalp and Rhett’s hands have abandoned her chest to run through the short strands.

Link barely stops himself from reaching up and touching his own hair, instinctively wanting to mimic how that might feel. To imagine Rhett doing it to him.

He tries not to fidget and talking, talking will help, “Surprised this isn’t more, ah, instant.”

Rhett shrugs, “Foreplay’s a thing, man.”

“No, I know,” Link knows his voice pitches a little high at this, defensive, “Just…figured, mean...’s porn…”

“Some of the earlier videos on here are like that, but when EP got bought out, the new owners took the company in a different direction.”

“EP?”

“Erotes Plus. The platform these films are on,” Rhett explains and then he starts mentioning a few things about different production companies and distributors and the like, but Link is too distracted because Jenessa is now fully naked and Rhett is on his knees between her legs, feasting on her moist lower lips.

The silken tip of his tongue is parting her, dancing along the bundle of nerves that is her clit and her head is tossed back on a loud, wild whine.

Her pale body undulates and she’s gripping his long hair so hard. Link feels as if he’s having an out of body experience. This is his roommate. His friend. The man he’s secretly in love with.

And he’s pleasuring this woman with such…focus. With intensity and finesse and when he rises, his erection is clear, straining at the linen pants that are containing it. Link points to the screen weakly, “Hippie clothes.”

The comment is stupid and unhelpful, but Rhett just laughs, “Yeah – kinda the theme of this series. I’m like, a Yoga Instructor or something? Least that's the way it was explained to me, so – linen pants, cotton top – I mean, we’ve had better costumes, but for this shoot-!”

Rhett is talking some more but, again, Link is barely listening. His eyes are transfixed by what’s taking place on the screen. Janessa easily strips off Rhett’s shirt and then his pants and – No. Underwear.

Link is seeing Rhett’s dick. It’s there…thick, but not as big as his own, a visible vein running along one side. Dusky dark and with a blushing pink tip and gently curling hair hiding his full, taunt sack…

“Link? Buddy? You doin’ alright?”

“Fine.”

“Lookin’ like you seen a ghost," Rhett teases, but there’s a breathless quality to his words, “My body all that bad?”

Link just shakes his head and watches as Jenessa strokes Rhett, as his head falls back and he lets out a shuddering gasp that Link feels in his very bones.

Link is suddenly very, very thankful for the pillow that bobs some as it reacts to the situation taking place beneath it. That situation being Link’s own dick perking upwards, making his jeans tight and constrictive.

“You…?” Something Rhett said finally seems to click in Link’s head, “You said this is a series?”

“Yup,” Rhett murmurs and now the film shows him pressing Jenessa against one of the studio walls and she raises one leg high. Insanely high. It’s a very gymnastic level move and Rhett slots his cock up with her opening, sliding hard and deep into her body.

Jenessa lets out a wail of pleasure as he presses in and she holds that leg up – all strength and grace as he begins to move within her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips answer some, but it’s more about how…open she is. And how deep he’s getting. They’re eyes are locked as he picks up his pace, rocketing in and out of her, shaking her whole form with his thrusts, her tiny breasts jiggling with each movement and movement, they call this…

“Got an award for this one.”

Thank God. That one comment draws Link back to some semblance of sanity even as his body quickens with an unspeakable longing, a carnal hunger that aches, “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Rhett says with no small amount of pride, “Best Sex Scene.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I owe it to her to be honest,” he waves to the screen, “She’s the one turning herself into a pretzel throughout this thing. Same for the rest of ‘em. They kept finding co-stars for me to work with who had had extensive training in this sort of body contortion. It was just my job to, uh, well…”

Rhett waves again and the answer is obvious: to fuck them through it. Link is not at all limber. In fact, he’s kind of a klutz. Nothing to match up with someone like this.

For some reason, this realization leaves him hollow. Cold. His arousal dims some, “Where’d you get the award from?”

“XRCO.”

Link makes some sound that would imply he understands, but he doesn’t. Rhett sighs, “Got nominated for Most Popular Male Performer on Pornhub but lost to Johnny Rockwell. Guy deserved it though. Performance he did that year was nuts.”

Link’s lost in the vocal cacophony that is erupting from the television speakers. Moans, gasps, grunts, cries of sheer ecstasy as Rhett and Janessa really ramp it up.

They’re in a different position now, Jenessa’s body once more arched at a crazy angle and Rhett's just...really getting in there. His hips are pumping double time, like a jackhammer, and she is loving it.

Her blue eyes are flashing with adoration, her lips curled in that moue that speaks to an almost pleasurable pain and Link can’t help but ask, “Are the others with her?”

Rhett takes a moment to process the question and when he realizes Link is asking about the other films in the series, he shakes his head, “Nah, man. You don’t usually have repeating partners. Like I said, they found other people who could bend in weird ways. The sequel to this sees me with Julian St. Croix. Great guy. Really smart. He’s actually working on another doctorate. Plans on working in the tech field when he retires, which – money he’s making, should be pretty damned soon. You want me to dial that up?”

Link just shakes his head. The idea of watching Rhett doing something like this with yet another person and with a man no less…

He feels crappy for, well, feeling crappy. This is Rhett’s job. He shouldn’t take this personally.

Besides, it’s not like Rhett knows how Link feels about him. To him, they’re just friends and he should play the part of friend – be a friend, a good friend, “I can see why you won the award, Rhett. You’re doing a…a great job. Real good acting.”

The sound of the shocked (yet oddly sharp) laughter that leaves Rhett at that actually causes Link to finally look at him.

Rhett’s face is a ruddy red, like he’s embarrassed or something, and he’s looking at Link with a bit of a wildfire in his eyes, “‘Good acting? Are you serious?”

Link finally shifts about on the couch (which feels fantastic considering his body has been fighting off a plethora of sensations for a while now) as he fully turns to him, pillow still firmly in place, “Of course! I mean, it-it seems like you’re really into this girl,” he gestures to the screen, “when you’re doing this and I imagine that’d take some acting chops.”

He chews on his bottom lip and lowers his gaze, hands ghosting over the pillow as he talks to it more than Rhett, “Un-unless you really are into her.”

“Into her?” Rhett pokes one finger over to the television, “Into Janessa?”

“Yeah, I mean…if-if you two are a couple or-or were one or-?”

“Me and Janessa?” Rhett asks incredulously and some of the heat seems to leave him. Link gets the impression that Rhett had, for a moment, been mad or affronted by Link’s well intentioned compliment, but now is completely changing track. Now Rhett seems charmingly baffled, “You think I’m into Janessa?”

“I-I was just saying if you’re not into her in this,” Link waves to the screen where (seeing as the volume is dying down) it would seem the film is reaching its conclusion, “Then the acting is good and if you are-!”

“I’m not,” Rhett confirms firmly, “I am very much not, nor was I ever, into Janessa. We’re friendly, but we’d never work as a couple, man. She likes cats.”

Rhett says the last as if it’s a blasphemy and Link can’t help but giggle, suddenly feeling bright and light even though he knows better than to do so, “Problem?”

“Not a big fan of lil demons…”

“Noted, “Link sighs and he feels much, much better. The film is finally over, he’s seen some of Rhett’s work, and he can now say the following with sheer confidence, “I’m proud of you.”

And with that, Rhett freezes. He freezes solid, back going ram rod straight, and his eyes – they’re as round as dinner plates.

Big and green and looking at Link like’s a wild anomaly and Link worries that maybe he, somehow, inadvertently offended him with the remark so he’s quick to explain, “I-I mean it, bo. I’m proud of you. Going out there and-and doing something like this. Being so…so exposed and vulnerable and for anyone to see and yeah, sure, I mean, I guess it’s just for people to-to beat off to or whatever, but when you think about it, it’s something that brings people pleasure, which is a lot better than bringing something bad into people's lives and I know some would argue that porn is like, some gateway into violent dark tendencies or whatever, but for the average person it’s a good thing to explore and the fact you can so freely provide that to them and not be ashamed-!”

Link is blathering.

He’s a blathering idiot.

But he feels like if he stops talking, Rhett might snap at him. Or be mad. Or-!

But instead Rhett just shakes his head and whispers, “You’re unbelievable.”

Link’s diatribe cuts off. His blood stops in his veins. He feels completely seized.

“I’ve been trying so hard…fighting with everything in me,” Rhett breathes and he just…eases forward, eases closer. He’s in Link’s personal space and Link wonders if he should back up or something.

He can feel the heat coming off Rhett’s skin. His breath is bathing Link’s face as he rasps, “But I can’t anymore. You’ll have to forgive me, but…”

Rhett kisses him.

Rhett. Kisses. Him.

Rhett kisses Link.

Their lips meet in the smallest, quickest, sweetest little peck. The sound of it, the quick wet click of their lips…it’s earth shattering, sound-barrier breaking.

And Link feels his whole nervous system lurch at it. And Rhett is still looking at him, searching his eyes wildly. Link blinks and licks his lips and tries to speak, but there’s nothing to say.

Rhett just grins softly, “Bad for business…that’s what you are…”

Link’s gaze dips to Rhett’s mouth. To his lips. Lips that were on his seconds ago. His eyes feel heavy lidded as he gulps and Rhett just huffs as he kisses him again. Again.

Another kiss and this one is more than just a peck. This one? This one is the one Link’s been dreaming of, the one he’s been wishing for.

This kiss is perfect.

#rhink #randl #my writing #peachworthy

[donutloverxo]

Nude

Run through - Steve wants to try new things so he takes a painting class with a nude painting subject. Only the woman he has to paint are you, Peppers assistant and his crush.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve Rogers was many things. He was an artist, an amateur cook (who really does try), a loyal friend, a good citizen, a soldier. Yet when people looked at him, they only ever saw the captain. His friends called him cap. He'd go weeks without hearing his own name. Sometimes he felt the lines were blurred. When did Steve Rogers end and Captain America begin?

He had a big wake up call when he confronted Tony, saying he wasn’t iron man, it was an alter ego. To which Tony said that Steve was basically captain America. And Steve couldn’t argue or disagree, because it was true. He didn’t want to lose himself in his work anymore than he already had. His therapist told him to make healthy boundaries, which is what he’s going to do.

So he ordered some colors and pencils online and got to work on his art, for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating and freeing. He could lose himself in it, go on for hours without thinking and seeing anything but the colors and his canvas. Which was extremely rare for him. He could rarely ever shut his brain off or run from his traumatic memories.

Everyone could see the visible change in him. How he seemed happier. Clint even joked about it saying

“Cap must be getting some”

To which Steve only snorted. There was no room for anything as complicated as a relationship or sex in his life, not right now.

But wouldn’t it be nice? To have a woman to hold and to paint. To love and care for. He didn’t let himself delve too much into that fantasy. Because even if it was a nice escape once in a while, he knew that while Steve Rogers might make a good partner, Captain America would certainly not. He would never subject any woman to deal with either of them.

With some encouragement from Sam and his old friends he started attending painting classes at his alma mater, the Brooklyn College, every Saturday evening. It helped him make some friends. He didn’t know if he could call them friends. Most of them were too different from him. They seemed like different types of 'tortured artists'

When he heard that there would be a nude subject to paint the next class, he was a little bit hesitant. Such a thing would’ve been scandalous in the 40s. But he was trying to open himself up and that meant pushing his comfort zone, even just a little bit.

When he set up his canvas, oil colors and brushes that Saturday he expected male subject. He didn’t however expect to hear a woman’s voice. He was too focused on his set up to look up, whatever. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. There wouldn't be anything erotic about it. This was strictly professional and educational.

He looked up to take a good look at his subject, when he felt as if his soul was knocked out of him. There you stood, his crush, Pepper Potts' assistant, and the woman who turned him down.

“You know back in my day they used to play elevator music” He said to drown out the awkward silence. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know how to talk to women. He had had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You were always so funny and sweet. Asking him and everyone about their day, if they were doing well. Always willing to help others.

When he let it slip that he likes banana bread, you baked him a whole loaf of it, which chocolate chips so ‘so you think of me when you have them. They’re my signature of sorts' you had said proudly. Of course he’d be thinking of you when he ate it. Overthinking actually. Wondering If you like him as he likes you, or if you’re just being your sweet self.

“Oh we still have that!” You chirped “but not in um professional or business buildings like these”

He just nodded. Tapping his foot impatiently. You would get off in just six floors it was now or never. “Hey uh – what are you doing this Friday?” he asked shyly.

“Oh just watching some Gordon Ramsay with my dog probably. I have no life” you laughed at your own self depreciating joke “Why?” you tilted your head.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get dinner? Only if you uh – you wanted to, you're free to say no” he promised. Maybe he should’ve asked you to ‘hang out' or 'for a coffee' like most people these days. But he felt that was no way to treat a lady, especially one like you.

“Oh Steve” he was already disappointed upon hearing your tone “I would’ve loved to. But even though we don’t work together, it wouldn’t look good you know? I mean I don’t care much for 'my image'” You said making air quotes “But I don’t, it’ll be complicated” You looked completely defeated. As if it hurt you to say no more than it hurt him to hear it.

“I completely understand” He nodded “no hard feelings” he gave you a smile as he watched you walk away. It did break his heart a bit, but he’d respect your feelings.

He looked at you taking off your satin robe revealing your bare body to the class of twenty or so artists. His breathe hitched. Your hair flowing down your back and covering a bit of your left breast, your soft stomach and thighs, the patch of soft curls at your core, your nipples hard against the chilly air, and how your stomach rolled a bit as you sat uncomfortably on the stool. You were beautiful. A work of art even. There was absolutely no way he could do you justice. He started drawing an outline on his canvas. You would very well be his best subject.

You looked around a bit, your fingers holding onto the stool for dear life so you could stave off the anxiety and feeling of being so exposed. Then your eyes landed on him. You thought you were dreaming, maybe you didn’t see properly, so you did a double take. Then you were frozen on the spot. There he was, Captain Rogers, the first Avenger, the man you often dreamt about, sitting right in front of you while you were naked as the day you were born.

You had no idea what you should do. This was literally like a nightmare come true. If you flee it would look bad, if you didn’t it might look worse. You decided you’d follow his lead. So you peeked a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and saw him, sketching you? Holy shit Steve Rogers was drawing a nude portrait of you. What has your life become?

You had always been insecure about your body. You knew magazines, porn and movies were meant to feed people lies to get them to buy more things. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about not looking anything like the women in them. You tried to remind yourself that you have many things going for you. Like your supporting family, your loving friends, your cute labrador, your amazing job.

Speaking of your job, exactly why you turned Steve freaking Rogers down! A man that looks like him asking you out and you say no. Your friends flat out laughed in your face at your unfortunate predicament, where the cake is right there but you can't eat it. Now that you thought about it, it was funny.

Your co-workers weren’t kind to you. Even on your best day you didn’t look anything like the women you worked with, who would stab you in the back the first chance the get. You were kind to everyone, but you knew by now not to expect the same treatment back. Which was why you had to say no to the beefy blonde. You didn’t want to be branded as the ‘office slut’.

Which now you were sure you would be. You didn’t know Steve enough to know he’d be willing to keep this a secret. He didn’t seem like someone who would do that to you. But you still couldn’t help but think the worst.

You squirmed and shivered in the chair for a good part of the next two hours. By the end your back was sore and you did everything you could to avoid looking at Steve, only sneaking glances here and there, while he seemed too engrossed in his work.

You had done this a couple of times before, to accept your body for what it is and get comfortable with it. If you weren’t going to love it no one would do it for you. Finally the time was up and the artists were asked to pack up for the day.

You quickly got up from your stool putting the robe back on. You turned your back to Steve, stretching your muscles. You couldn’t wait to lay down on your comfy bed and just get out of here. But you knew you needed to have that inevitable conversation. You probably would never be able to look Steve in the eye after this.

You walked towards him as he was cleaning up his work station. “Fancy seeing you here” You cringed at your embarrassing attempt at a British accent.

“Hey there” He gave you a bashful smile scratching the back of his head “I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Right back at ya” you returned his smile, no longer feeling on edge. It was strange how his presence served to comfort you.

“You do this often” he asked casually. You couldn’t really hear any judgement in his tone, not what you would expect from a hundred year old.

“No not really. It just uh – I’m trying to love myself. Which I already do! Of course” you let out a nervous chuckle “just trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone”

“That makes two of us” he said as he was done packing his bag, which he was deliberately doing at a slow pace. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Can I... Look at your painting?” You asked nervously. You didn’t know if you wanted to see his interpretation of your naked body, what if it was bad? But what if it was good? What if he was impressed by you...

“Uh it’s not done yet. And frankly I’m not that good”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the sketches in your office” You caught your slip of tongue. You couldn’t let him know about your borderline unhealthy obsession with him.

“Well, have a look then” he relented showing you his canvas.

You let out a breathe you didn’t even know you were holding at the painting. It was breath-taking. The woman looked like you, but why was she so beautiful and graceful? In the painting she was sitting on a stool, like you, in front of a tree admiring a rose in her hand. She was naked as well. It reminded you of classic Greek paintings where women weren’t perfect, but were celebrated for their imperfections.

“It’s amazing Steve. I – do I look like that?” You stammered not being able to tear your eyes off the painting.

He shook his head at your shock “On the contrary you look much better I’m glad you like it”

“You’re a great artist” you gushed

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen much better” he said humbly.

You would argue with him. But you knew it would be of no use. Looking at the beautiful woman in the painting gave you the surge of confidence you needed “Steve, does the offer for that dinner still stand?” You straightened your back looking up to lock eyes with him.

“Yes” He blurted without even thinking “how about tomorrow evening?” He asked.

“Yes that will be awesome! You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you the address“ you said making an mental note to do so.

You could hardly wait for your date. You didn’t really care about what your co-workers would think of you. As long as you were happy their opinions didn’t matter.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or send me an ask!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

This was actually a request. But I can't fir the life of me find the person who requested it. I hope you see it babes❤

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve Rogers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader