#i have never met another brown person that doesn’t have dark brown or black hair

[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner.  Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it.  Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise.  The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa.  Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one.  Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone.  White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site.  It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!”  You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos.  He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though.  You feel very, very nervous.  You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks.  In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders.  Track pants hang low on his trim waist.  He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself.  You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.”  His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core.  It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests.  You even agreed to be filmed for your private use.  A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer.  Dave waits patiently for you to continue.  “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.”  That’s an understatement.  Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy.  “I like watching it.  I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”  His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders.  “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me.  If you can’t, then we can’t.  Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly.  Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately.  Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again.  “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you.  Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone.  Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat.  You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will.  Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth.  “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five.  Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body.  Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand.  The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him.  Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily.  Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs.  He’s still so close.  You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop.  “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you.  “You want me to use you?”  His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision.  Desire ripples off him in waves.  It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak.  You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth.  He’s so intense and overwhelming.  God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame.  Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting.  Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door.  You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before.  You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question.  Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised.  He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down.  You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them.  There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one.  Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting.  The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal.  Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn.  Dave enters the room with a question in his eye.  You nod.  There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face.  He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater.  You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head.  You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest.  You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed.  His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs.  Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce.  But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest.  He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt.  His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him.  You’re no longer nervous.  You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.”  Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed.  Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh.  “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now.  I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth.  Dave hisses as you draw him in.  He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth.  He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you.  He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly.  He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him.  Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort.  His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him.  A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat.  You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin.  His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink.  Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass.  Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.”  He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position.  He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift.  You are not in control here.  He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again.  This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind.  You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you.  Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body.  He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision.  He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him.  He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating.  He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.”  A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it.  “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful.  You have me all night.”  He winks before kissing you once again.

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

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist- in reblog

#the sweepstakes #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

[billskeis]

ᡣ𐭩 club encounters w bill

lights were flashing, music was blaring and bodies collided against one another. you were at the club with your friend in hopes to get anything and everything off your mind of how you found your ex-boyfriend cheating on you.

fuck this shit, downing another shot as the alcohol trickles down your throat.

gender is specified as male reader :)

“hey hey! that was like your fifth shot.. in a row!” your best friend elise said, as she rubs your back to ensure that you’re okay. scoffing, you let her know that you’re fine, “don’t worry about me you know about my high tolerance, plus.. we’re here to have fun!” nodding, “you’re right, fuck that guy and fuck that side hoe!”

clinking your shot glasses, you drink another type of liquor that tastes way better than the first one. mm, fruity..

“i’m gonna go dance, come with?” she asks, you shake your head, just simply not in the mood to. elise just kisses you a goodbye to reassure you she will be back after a moment. you nod at her, laughing at her silly antics, you love this girl to death.

from across the room, you look, look at the various activities the strangers within your vicinity are engaging in. drinking, dancing, grinding, making out. for those, it was a night maybe those want to remember, or maybe not.. for you? it was a night to get your mind off the stupid shit that completely wasted your time.

that was until you spotted someone who stuck out like a sore thumb.

he had black hair, that seemed to spike a bit out of his head. eyeshadow accompanied his eyes as he tries to blink the harsh lighting of the club. he wore all black, which seemed peculiar because it was a summer night and it was getting hot, especially hot in the building.

he shooed away another figure that was engulfed in large fabrics of clothing, he had brown matt locs with a straight cap to compliment, holding it all together. his manicured hand managed to irritate the latter until the shorter figure made eye contact with you.

in attempts to look away, anywhere else, you couldn’t help but try to sneak a look at the two once again.

for a short moment, you saw that the dread-head had pointed at you, making the taller one look in your direction. awkwardly, you swirl the liquid in your cup. looking once again, to see the pretty black-haired person still looking at you.

at this moment you’re panicking. shit, what if he thinks i’m weird? wait, who gives a fuck you’ll probably only see this person tonight and then never again. you turn on the island seat, facing the bar to scan the alcohols in seeing which one you haven’t tried yet.

you just got paid at work and decided that this night was gonna be a night to yourself and therefore you needed to spoil yourself.

with a tap on your shoulder, you’re met with not just anyone. but the person you had just made intense eye contact with more than once and had looked like a total loser to (he doesn’t think so).

“hey,” he spoke, his voice a tad nasal, but it was sexy. “hi..” “by yourself?” “nono, my friend’s dancing, see? she’s the one with the tight black dress who—seems to be dancing with that… dread-head..”

shaking your head, “elise.. this is the fifth guy tonight,” “don’t worry, that’s my brother, your friend is quite the dancer,” the boy laughs, leaning his head in a little closer to yours.

“that she is,” sighing, “well, i hope i can accompany you tonight, bill,” he holds a hand out for you to shake, “y/n,” you reciprocate the gesture a tight grip on his. his hands are soft.

“you know i already thought this but seeing you closer just confirms it,” bill leans his elbow on the counter of the bar, his eyes gleam even in the dark lighting that flashes once in a while, “confirms what?” you ask in curiosity.

“how cute you are,” “oh—! ahem, might i say the same for you,” really y/n? you’re blowing it tonight. while face palming yourself, all bill could do is laugh. he loves your awkwardness and all you could do was just stare at him in awe.

he really was fucking gorgeous.

from behind him, there you saw. your ex, and he was closing distance. closing distance between the two of you with the girl he had his fucking dick in while you entered the shared bedroom, bags in your hands to gift him in showing you how much you loved that man.

with such short time, you make your move. “you swing that way?” asking the boy in front of you who had seemingly been talking to you but couldn’t pay attention to whilst you noticed an abomination behind him.

“i do, why—?” bill’s words were cut off by your lips. although in shock, he didn’t push away, giving you the okay to continue the kiss. you swipe your tongue over his lips in asking for permission to enter.

opening his mouth, you glide your tongue within his, intertwining the muscle with one another not even leaving room to breathe. the kiss was messy, but shit was it hot. bill was whiny, as your tongue explored his mouth, he couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

his tongue tasted that of alcohol, to which you had enough to drink but tasting it on bill left you wanting more.

he was especially sensitive whenever you ran your tongue on his. whimpering at the moments you pressed down on his tongue piercing, as the foreign material of metal is fondled with.

bill didn’t know what to do with his hands, so his arms swung over your neck as you pressed your bodies together. in a bold movement, you pressed your knees in between bill’s legs to hit his crotch. you felt a tent begin to form within his pants, not even noticing the growing bulge in yours.

doing this led bill to moan into the kiss. god were his sounds addicting even in such a room where your voices were barely heard by one another. you just needed to hear more.

bill ended up pulling apart from the kiss, saliva in between the two of your mouths. his breathing erratic, and eyelids were heavy, brown irises dark. his lips were now a little more plump than before, but that was inevitable with the way you were sucking on them.

“y-y/n..” “i’m sorry, was that too much?” you ask him, rubbing his back. he leans his head into your shoulder, shying away as he nuzzles himself into you, “mmm nnh.. just felt really good..”

as you look past his body that was now cuddled into yours, you see your ex boyfriend and his side whore looking at you in shock. sticking your middle finger up, all the two of them could do was cringe and walk away into the opposite direction.

seems as though their plans to mock you were ruined.

remembering, you totally forgot for a second that bill was basically on your lap, “bill?” “mhm?” “let me get your number yea..?” he looks up from your shoulder, as he smiles brightly. cute.

opening your phone, you hand it to him to once again see his manicured hands. seeing them up close you didn’t notice the colour but of course they were along his get-up. black.

finishing up, he closed your phone and handed it back to you. getting up from your legs, he propped himself upon the seat next to you. holding his hand out, you instinctively grabbed onto his intertwining your fingers.

“now, lemme get to know you after you basically fucked your mouth onto mine, hm?”

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fluff #2000s #fyp

[markberries]

my only muse ﹒ 5

sypnosis ﹕ you’re mark’s classmate and you’re both english majors. mark makes music on the side and posts it on soundcloud and he asks you to promote it, but it genuinely sucks a— it’s.. interesting.

genre + ﹕ social media au f!reader, humour, fluff, college au, mark + y/n are both english majors, mark is a loser, bsfs!karina ryujin yunjin yangyang & xiaojun

wc ﹕ 1.4k

masterlist + comment/msg me to be added to the taglist

taglist ✦ @replayenthusiast @jeongintwt

the crisp end of winter and soon to be spring air tickles your cheeks, making your ears cold and your hands colder. there’s a book bag slung over your shoulder, slightly swaying as you pace the campus halls to make it to your first lecture of the day.

the bustling atmosphere makes it nearly impossible to get around it, but after having to walk this route many times, you’ve grown accustomed to the path you need to take in order to make it to class on time. the sounds of students engaging hits your ears as your shoes pat against the floor, your subconscious picking up bits and pieces of conversations as you make your way towards your composition writing class.

the first thing you do when you make it to the door is poke your head inside, scanning the few students who have decided to show up as early as you. there’s no sight of mark yet, which makes you let out an internal sigh of relief. this meant he wouldn’t have a chance to make conversation before the class starts, and you could sit away from him and dart out of the room as soon as the lecture ends.

“y/n?” a voice from behind you makes you flinch, grasping at your chest as your heart races within it. you immediately snap your head to the owner of the voice behind you, your stomach dropping when you recognize the same korean boy who’s music is terrible.

“oh, hey mark,” you greet him, attempting to be as casual and not awkward as possible. you can feel your heart rate beginning to slow after the short scare, your hands coming back to your sides. “you scared me.”

the brown haired korean-canadian looks at you with a smile, his fingers around his black backpack straps as he raises his eyebrow. his figure is adorned with a pair of black basketball shorts and a dark blue hoodie, something along the lines of clothes he wears nearly everyday. his glasses sit comfortably on his nose bridge, the silver frames complimenting his brown eyes.

“sorry dude, didn’t mean to scare you,” mark apologizes, reaching out and giving your shoulder a slight pat. “wanna head inside and sit together? i can show you what i’ve been working on.”

the dreadful question escapes from mark’s lips, making you unexcited for what’s to come. you don’t want to outright insult mark, even more so because you two sit on the title of mere acquaintances, so you settle for smiling and nodding your head. “yeah, sure. class doesn’t start for another.. fifteen minutes.”

mark’s face lights up pleasantly, his body stepping out of the way for you to enter the lecture hall. he gestures his arms forward, maintaining a good amount of personal space. “after you, then.”

you nod your head once to signify a thank you, walking into the high ceiling and large classroom with mark following behind you. there’s still an awkwardness that sits in the air, and you’re unsure if mark can sense it, or if it’s just all in your head. you’ve never spoken to mark on a friendly level, only interacting when needed, in terms of joint assignments or homework assistance.

you and mark end up sitting near the back of the class, the sunlight casting a soft glow from the windows behind you two. you sigh, setting down your book bag underneath your desk, and begin getting yourself sorted. you pray that mark will wait until after class to decide to show you his ‘music’, so that you could devise a plan to sneakily escape before he gets the chance to.

but, instead of your prayers being answered, you’re met with the devil’s wrath as mark nudges you lightly on the arm. your head slowly turns in his direction, trying to control your facial muscles to keep your smile from dropping as your eyes flick to the airpod he holds out in one of his hands. his expression is alike to that of a child showing their mother a badly drawn sketch, full of excitement and awaiting praise as he offers you the airpod.

“oh, thanks,” you manage to say in a sweet voice, your fingers lightly grazing mark’s warm palm as you take the item from his grasp. you watch as he loads up his laptop, opening up what looks like a professional music making app. as to how mark makes shit music with such great resources, you still remain clueless. you place the airpod in your ear, hoping to god that this doesn’t destroy your ear drums.

“just let me know if it’s too loud, i’ll turn it down for you,” mark grins, leaning back in his chair as his finger hovers over the space bar. he presses play, then turns to you, watching your reaction with an eager expression.

mark’s definition of kpop music is not for the faint of heart. your eyebrows subconsciously furrow together as the horrible tunes begin to sound, but you try to remain as positive as possible. your eyes keep focus on mark’s laptop screen, afraid that if you lock gazes with mark, he’ll be able to tell how much you dislike the song he’s made for you. you can’t even tell what instruments are being played, and his singing is nearly inaudible with the poor mixing of the audio.

you would have to figure out how to tell mark you weren’t going to promote his music on your twitter account, which leaves a slight feeling of guilt weighing on your shoulders; especially because you can tell the boy is working hard to make music that better suits the theme of your social media.

tired and somehow annoyed with the song echoing in your skull, you reach out to pause the music with a swift motion. mark still seems oblivious to your disdain for his music, still gazing at you with that same excited grin. you have to resist the urge to rub your temples and sigh, instead opting into giving him a closed lipped smile while letting out an awkward chuckle.

“so,” mark leans forward in his seat, making your neck and cheeks heat up due to sheer second hand embarrassment. “what do you think? good enough to post? i’m open to constructive criticism.”

you pause, trying to find the correct words that won’t hurt mark’s feelings. you do think he has potential, since he has a good voice (underneath the aggressive autotune) and a strong passion for music, but you’re unsure of how to tell him that this song he made is hot trash. “no.. um.. not quite..”

you make sure to avoid mark’s eyes, not wanting to see whether or not he has a disappointed expression. you rub the back of your neck, keeping your eyebrows scrunched up as you continue to rack your brain for the correct wording to use.

“oh yeah? what do you think i should change?” mark’s voice perks up, and you’re slightly baffled by his unwavering tone. he still seems excited, and thankfully, not upset over the fact that you deemed his work as ‘not good enough to post’.

“i’m not like.. an expert on music making or anything, but i think you should balance out your voice and the instrumental,” you admit, finally meeting mark’s brown orbs as you turn to him. he nods his head, listening intently to your advice as you continue speaking. “and maybe stick to one consecutive theme and pace..? i think that’ll help you improve.”

mark jots down your notes on his laptop, typing them up and highlighting some of your words. you let out an internal sigh of relief, grateful that mark is truly taking this as constructive criticism. he seems open minded, and not one to argue if someone is genuinely trying to help him get better at what he enjoys doing.

“wow dude, thank you so much,” mark smiles, turning back to you with a glint of elation in his eyes. “i like when people tell me what i’m doing wrong. it helps me a lot. i’ll make sure to do better and make a good song for you.”

for some reason, with mark’s words echoing in your brain, your heart swells. it may be because of the fact that he’s a good looking guy writing you a song (although it’s nothing personal), but a part of you views it as endearing. you’re still unsure of whether or not you’ll actually promote his music on your twitter account, but you’re still glad you were able to help him in any meaningful sort of way.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct fanfic #nct fluff #mark #mark lee #mark fanfic #mark fluff #nct smau #mark smau #mark lee smau #mark lee fanfic #mark lee fluff #markberries #my only muse

[nerdieforpedro]

The Lake Between Us - Part One

The Nurse who's frayed at the seams

Ezra AU x plus size OFC (Nickname Moonbeam - has a name in later parts)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 868

Warnings: insomnia, alcohol use, anxiety, mutual voyeurism, brief mentions of death, cancer and post-mortem care

Notes: My first series with Ezra! It's been fun writing this and therapeutic for me. I envision the setting to be on a bayou in Louisiana with the weeping willows and slow waters. Plus I wanted Ezra to have an air boat. ☺️ I'm not sorry for anything.

Main Masterlist / Ezra Masterlist / The Lake Between Us Series

It’s fine during the day, the rapid fire and thinking quickly on your feet. It’s what makes you good at what you do. Able to keep so many details straight while answering questions about six patients and more if you’re keeping an eye out on another nurse’s assignment while they’re at lunch.

It’s why it bothers you so much. You’ve taken your medications. Stopped looking at your phone an hour before bed. The room was pitch black before bed and the white noise machine was going. You even took your shower earlier than normal because apparently a nice warm shower doesn’t promote sleep according to the experts. You personally found warm water relaxing, isn’t that why tea is good before bed?

One of them needs to come to your house and see why you’re not sleeping.

It’s three a.m. You’ve at least gotten five hours of sleep. Enough to function. You’re awake in this darkness though and you’re well acquainted with it. There’s one thing you can do that will at least relax you now. You’ve done it the last few weeks despite all these changes to your sleep hygiene and routine. 

Your legs are over the side of the bed and carry you to your back door where your yellow crocs are. It’s off the back of the kitchen so you grab some rum and mango juice. A chair you bought when you went to an antiques show with some friends sits on your back porch and you plop down. It rocks and that helps your nerves slightly. Your large thighs press into the sides of the rocking chair but not painfully. The periwinkle sleep shorts you have are matched by the camisole that has bunched up at the bottom exposing the pooch of your stomach.

The crickets are loud and there are even some lightning bugs about dotting around the tall grass that surrounds the lake in the middle of your backyard. The lake is connected to an estuary that your neighbor across the way often drives his airboat off in. Thankfully the water is at least slow moving to it only attracts but so many bugs, but that’s also why you’ve taken to lighting a lavender eucalyptus candle when you come outside on the porch. Ironic considering the very same scent that keeps various insects away is supposed to lull you to sleep and it does not. You’ve never met the man. Only seen him on his back porch.

You know very little about him, not even his name. He’s at least your age, if not older. Tall and broad with sun-kissed skin from working during the daylight hours you assume or it could be his natural skin tone. His hair is brown except for a gray or blonde patch in the front. From what you’ve seen, he has a patchy beard that could have gray or more blonde and a wicked smile. It’s then that he emerges from his abode the same as you. He has something to drink as well. Usually he’s wearing a t-shirt or tank top but it’s balmy this morning so he’s shirtless in some loose shorts. You’re not sure if they’re for sleep or lounging. There looks to be some definition to his chest as he takes in the night air. He looks up after pouring himself a glass of something that might be brown, it’s hard to see from here and it’s dark. The man’s limbs are weighted down like yours are. Could his thoughts be running a mile a minute as well? What would lead him to be on his porch too? Is he alone like you? Shouldn’t he have someone warming his bed? Given how he looks from here, he shouldn’t have any issue in that department. Maybe it’s by choice, but why would he choose to? Divorced? Separated? Recent break-up? Maybe a fight with someone and they’re letting each other stew…

Planning different scenarios for the day, reviewing what you’ve seen, the care you’ve provided the people you encountered. Today you discharged a patient home, consulted one where the doctor sort of explained that they have cancer but it didn’t really sink in and assisted with post-mortem care because you were the nurse with the most experience on the unit. The rest were new grads, bless them but they really needed to remove teaching care plans and expand on communication, psych and discussions with biases surrounding death. Maybe you should email the state board, do they even check their email? They had to, right? They’re a government body, but are they gonna do anything with it? Your mind has spun again in that short time. 

The lack of restful sleep is having the same encumbering effect on the pair of you. Fatigued bodies to match your brains. 

His glass raises and he nods in your direction. You do the same. Then you both drain your glasses and refill them. No words are exchanged. The sounds of water, insects, and a light breeze fill the void where speech would be. Normally these sounds are what lull most people to sleep in Louisiana, but not you nor him.

A toast to another night of sleep lost.

Part Two

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Ezra #ezra prospect #Ezra x plus size OFC #The Lake between Us #A Nerdie fic

[jksprincess10]

Exile 8. Wreck my plans

After Steve Murphy's unforgivable death in the never-ending fight against Pablo Escobar, Javier Peña finds himself stuck with a new partner. A girl that they brought from Miami. Smart, devastating, strong. Nothing he would have thought her to be. Their rivalry builds up to something intense, destructive.

A/N: There are two chapters left. Thank you for following along ! Thanks to the discord chat for the help with the stupid ending lmao

CW: canon violence, mentions of death, smoking and drinking, language, bullshitting my way through the Narcos plot, no y/n (3rd person), no physical and racial descriptions of the girl, explicit smut.

Divider by

@cafekitsune

Masterlist for exile

Notification blog

For the next few days, she stays inside. She barely eats, she barely talks. The only other living thing she sees is her black cat, that soothes her with her loud purrs.

Javier works late. She hears the door open and close every day, the only indication of time that still passes, that life hasn’t stopped.

When he comes home earlier, he surprises her by stopping by her apartment first.

When she opens the door, he sees the ghost of the feisty woman he met. Dark circles around her eyes, skin that lost its natural glow, a dirty shirt thrown on for good measure.

He leans against her doorframe, cigarette hanging from his lips as he looks up and down at her.

“I’m takin’ you out for a real meal, princesa.” He’s still as strikingly beautiful as ever, but the deep lines under his eyes indicate that his nights were possibly as long as hers.

He thought she would argue, but she didn’t. Another sign that she’s gone.

“I’ll get dressed.”

She finds a low-effort, black loose dress that she throws on. She pours an ungodly amount of dry shampoo in her hair to hide the fact that she hasn’t washed it in days. She throws a bag over her shoulder that contains cigarettes, a lighter and her wallet, and slides in some sandals.

Javier looks at her worryingly as she walks to the jeep, waiting for her to fall apart under his gaze. But she manages to jump in.

The plate in front of her is huge, filled to the brim with traditional Columbian food that Javi ordered for her. He looks at her expectantly as she takes a first bite that takes a lot of effort. She hums in approval, and he relaxes.

“Why did you finish early, agent Peña?”

Maybe if she didn’t use his first name. Maybe she wouldn’t feel a thing.

“Do you want the truth?”

“No bullshit.”

“Had a meeting that pissed me off. Thought I’d come and take care of you instead. Because no one at work seems to give a shit. Es una mierda. (It’s bullshit)”

“And why do you care? Would have been the perfect time top get rid of me.” She asks between bites. Although she doesn’t want him to get rid of her.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Maybe it’ s the thick Columbian air, maybe it’s the grief, but it suddenly feels heavy.

“What did they say?” She asks between more bites of food. She finds her appetite slowly coming back.

“They gave me shit for not killing Escobar when I could. But I couldn’t risk it. He would’ve killed you if I even tried.”

She glances at his closed fist, at his tense lips.

“Don’t let me get between you and your goals.”

“Stop saying that. How can you still think I don’t fucking care?”

“You didn’t want me here, Javier. You made it very clear. What changed?”

He stays silent. She knows what changed, deep in her gut, but she doesn’t want to believe it.

They both eat in silence after that.

The familiar sound of the jeep’s motor reassures her, following by the clicking of keys. But, after that, she’s lost. Javier doesn’t open his door. Instead, he’s looking at her with his deep, sad, brown eyes. She stops fiddling with her keys and she looks up at him.

“What?” She asks too softly, unlike herself.

Words fail him, they can’t leave his throat. He wants to tell her to please stay close, please don’t leave, please let me protect you. But, instead of talking, he crowds her against her apartment door, his body firm and warm against her. He’s soft, lets her leave if she wants to, his palms against the solid wood of the door.

Memories of that time and that other time blur her mind. The simple scent of him, his sweat after a day of work, his strong cologne, and the odor of cigarettes suffices to bring back the memories she didn’t have the time to enjoy. She forgot how badly she wanted him.

Her hand grabs at the back of his head, taking anchor in his dark curls at the base of his next. She brings him to her level, and it’s all it takes him to fold. His generous lips take ahold of hers, and it’s intoxicating. She would never say it to his face, but Javier is such a good kisser. He takes and controls. But he also gives. He doesn’t leave her, even when she can hear his heavy breathing through his nose. He waits until she pushes him away slightly, her cheeks heated, her breathing heavy.

“Come in.”

It’s not a question. Not an invitation. More like an order. But she craves him. Understanding, he comes in after her, and he closes the door behind him.

But when he’s here, in her mess, she feels slightly embarrassed. And she remembers how she neglected her hygiene. Completely oblivious, Javier goes in for another kiss, but she stops him with her hands flat against his hard chest.

“I need a shower.”

He backs off and nods.

When she gets out of the shower, a towel around her chest, she finds Javier trying to pet her cat, but Riri’s having none of it.

“She doesn’t like you. Doesn’t help that you’re smoking in her face.” She says, amused. That’s a new emotion for her. He notes the change in her tone, the slight malicious glimmer in her eyes.

There’s a little tilt of his lips, a tentative smile. “Sorry, cat.” He says as he holds his hands up.

Riri hisses and leaves the room. Javier finally crushes his cigarette in the closest ashtray, and that’s when he truly takes the time to look at her. They skipped so many steps already. He knows how pretty she is under the white fluffy fabric around her. But Javi doesn’t get tired of wanting her.

She watches him watching her and she watches as the want in his eyes grows when she leaves the towel on the floor. The way the brown in his eyes almost disappears, the black in them overgrown.

“Tan bonita (So pretty).” He mutters to himself. “Come here.”

His big hands are on her naked waist, goosebumps on her skin even though he’s so warm. He helps her lay down, and he towers over her, still overly dressed.

“Let me take care of you.” He’s almost pleading. He wants to be soft, to be good for her. He puts all of her suffering on his shoulders. She nods quietly, and she eagerly bites his bottom lip, before letting him go. The big arch of his nose follows her cheek, her neck. He wants to memorize every fragrance she emanates. The fresh scent of her right after a shower, her perfume in the morning in the jeep, the mixture of her sweat after a long day.

His nose traces the valley between her breasts, her stomach, where he leaves soft kisses. She looks down at him through her lashes. She tries to stay in control and not to show him how much she wants him. But when his thick fingers grab the meat of her thighs to spread them apart, she shivers in anticipation.

His nose traces her mound.

“Come on.” She mutters as she puts her feet on his back to push him further.

“So eager.” The tip of his nose touches her clit, and she squirms. Finally, he commits, and the flat of his tongue licks at the base of her core, collecting the wetness already forming there. She sighs contentedly and one of her hands finds his dark curls, as if to keep him there. But now that he tasted her, he never wanted to leave her thighs.

He licks higher, finding where she craves him the most. He uses two of his fingers to spread her for him, leaving her bare and sensitive. He starts slow, with the tip of his tongue, but when she pushes his face further, he presses harder, and sucks her clit between his heavenly hips. She moans softly, and it encourages him to keep going. He wants to hear those sweet sounds over and over again.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby.” He asks as he sucks harder.

“So so fucking good, Javi.” She moans, not even ashamed of how desperate she sounds.

He lets go of her clit with an almost painful pop, and he uses the flat of his tongue again. She’s overwhelmed by the feeling of him, by the way the warm muscle laps at her like he wants to remember her taste, the way his mustache scratches her skin deliciously. Javier circles her clit to bring her to the edge, his deep eyes watching her closely.

Her first orgasm is soft, her back barely arched, her lips opened with a delicate sound. But he wants more, he wants her to shake and beg him to stop.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers as he presses a kiss on her pubic bone.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I can find you beautiful and hate you at the same time. Ever heard of a hate fuck, chiquita?” He punctuates his words with a bite to her thigh. “But I can’t fuck you like I hate you right now. After the shit you’ve been through…” Javier licks the bite mark.

But somewhere, deep in her, she wants him to. She wants him to destroy her until she cannot walk. She wants every ache in her body to remind her of him. He brings her back to reality by spitting on her core and watching the way their liquids mix. He wishes it were his cum that he was spreading on her.

“You can’t make me wet enough?” She teases.

Two of his fingers gather the wetness, before he inserts his middle finger between her tight walls. She reacts instantly, her body arching against his hand as he watches her closely.

“Say that again.” He orders.

“You can’t make me wet en-.”

He curls his finger and it’s enough to keep her from finishing her sentence. When he feels like she’s ready, he inserts his index. The stretch feels delicious to her. The way her walls hug him tightly feels heavenly to him. He tries to imagine the way it would feel around his cock.

“Is that why you’re soaking my fingers already?” He whispers against her wet core, making her shiver.

“Shut up and eat my pussy, Peña.”

Javier smirks lightly, before devouring her again. He’s messier this time, his fingers barely following the rhythm that his tongue is setting. The tip of his fingers is hitting that spot in her, again and again. She’s so close. Her fingers tangle in his hair to keep him there. Her vision blurs, everything turning white as she empties her juices on his fingers and on the blanket under her. He keeps going, until her thighs close around him.

He lets her go, his fingers leaving her empty. He collects her mess with his digits and brings them up to her lips. She opens her mouth for him and sucks on them to clean him off.

“Does that look like a pussy that’s not wet enough, huh?” She shakes her head and twirls her tongue around his fingers. “You’re such a messy girl.” He marvels, and suddenly, he’s overly conscious of his cock pressing against the fly of his pants.

He lays beside her. “C’me here.” When she just cuddles next to him, he wraps his arms around her middle and make her roll on top of him. She straddles his waist, looking at him. “Sit on my face.”

“Didn’t think you’d like being under.” She teases.

His fingers find the flesh of her ass, and he pushes her until she’s straddling his face. With force, he brings her down to his lips, his fingers leaving red marks after their passage.

“I’m always in control, baby.”

His fingers leave her ass and come up to her tits instead, massaging them as he licks at her hole. He wants her to wet his face, he wants to still be able to taste her on his mustache tomorrow.

She throws her head back and curses lowly, her hips moving to his rhythm. She feels the tip of his nose on her clit again, and she uses it to her advantage, letting it stimulate her while his tongue stimulates her hole. Her fingers dig in her mattress under her, her hips moving uncontrollably until she reaches another intense orgasm.

Even if she’s shaking, he doesn’t stop. She has to grab his hair and push him down for him to stop.

“Javi, please…please stop.”

Finally, he obeys, letting her go. She falls beside him, out of breath, before eyeing the bulge in his jeans. He follows her gaze, and shrugs.

“It’ll go away. I’ll go home. You should sleep.” Javier says, scratching the back of his neck.

When he gets up, she extends her hand towards him. “Stay.” She whispers weakly.

“Okay.”

He undresses, his work clothes forming a pile on her floor, a sight that she could dangerously get used to, and joins her under the blankets. She turns to him and lays her head on his chest.

“I’ll come back to work on Monday.”

“You don’t have to.”

She never heard him being so soft spoken.

“I will.”

Knowing better than to argue with her, he agrees. “Okay.”

She’s awoken by the noisy cupboards opening and closing with just enough violence. By the loud curse words in a mixture of Spanish and English. By the squeak of the door of her apartment opening, by another door opening… (the landlord really had to change those fucking hinges). Finally, she heard an exclamation of masculine celebration.

Grumpy and still tired, she gets out of bed and throws on the first thing that she happens to see – which was conveniently, Javi’s shirt from last night, and she stumbles into the kitchen, where a whole mess is happening.

“What the fuck – ” She asks as she rubs her eyes.

Javier is making coffee. Well, attempting to make coffee is a better way to put it. But not with her coffee maker, with… with one he brought from his place.

“Your coffee machine’s a fucking piece of shit, chiquita. Should throw that shit in the garbage.” He explains, still concentrated on the hard task of making filtered coffee.

“It’s made in America.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically and sits on the nearest counter, judging Javier in silence. Men are so… so useless. He’s so dumb, she can’t even appreciate his naked torso and half-opened jeans.

“Well, now I sound like a communist.”

“God, you’re so helpless. Move, I’ll make the coffee. The only things you’re good at is your job and sex. ”

She jumps down from the counter and shoos him out of the way.

“Damn, you finally admit it.” He says slyly as he moves out of the way, his gaze trailing down her sinful form wearing his shirt.

“Thin fucking ice, Peña. Ta gueule (Shut up).”

#javier pena #exile #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x yn #javier pena x y/n #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

[mikhailwrites]

Look at me like we've never met before / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #2 - Roleplaying

John is sitting at the bar, nursing his glass of scotch. Usually, he only drinks whisky on a special occasion. Well, he supposes tonight is a somewhat special occasion. He's not a Sergeant of the SAS tonight. It was a stupid idea. Something he’d read somewhere and thought would be fun, but now he just feels... nervous. How the hell is he supposed to pretend he doesn’t know Ghost? Ghost! There is literally no one like him. He takes the glass and sips at the scotch. It calms his nerves some. Whatever, he’ll just enjoy himself, have a bit of fun, and then they’re gonna fuck, and come morning, they’ll be Sergeant John MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon Riley again.

His thoughts are interrupted when he notices movement in the corner of his eye, and suddenly, he knows he can play along. Because the man that just entered the picture is Ghost, but at the same time... it’s not.

The man looks like trouble. Broad shoulders, scars only barely hidden behind plain black medical face mask, large hands that could kill a man. The blonde hair does very little in terms of softening the brute. As does the deceivingly nice dark red button-up with a tasteful pattern paired with black chinos that hug the man's legs and especially his arse tight. John looks away, hoping he wasn't caught staring and feeling a little bit underdressed in plain jeans and an even plainer white tee. He’s been told it suits him, and he can believe it; John is not a complicated lad, and the get-up the blonde guy sports would look ridiculous on him. Like a costume. That, honestly, might be, in part, what intrigues him about the stranger. By all means, he can see him in worn denim and a tank top or maybe a cheap suit fit for a bouncer. Yet the clothes he wears suit him. He looks like... what exactly? Something prestigious yet predatory. There has to be risk involved. A lawyer? An entrepreneur? Stock trader? John’s intrigued because what can he say? Slender, pretty boys never quite did it for him. Dark, mysterious, huge and menacing blokes, however? Now, that is right up his alley.

Turning the glass in his hand, he downs the rest of the drink, savouring the thick smokiness and the burn of the alcohol on his tongue. Should he order another one? Does he actually want to hit on the lad?

The choice is made for him as another glass lands on the counter. As he looks quizzically at the bartender, she only shrugs, nodding towards the blonde stranger. “Compliments from the gentleman over there.” John looks the man over, trying not to flinch as dark brown eyes lock on him. There is absolutely nothing gentlemanly about him. Not even when he raises his own glass in a silent toast, he looks like a tiger stalking its prey. However, he did buy John a drink; it would be rude not to thank him, especially since John doesn’t drink cheap.

Grabbing his drink and sitting next to the stranger, John feels small, which is ridiculous, of course, because John is not a small man. "Thanks for the drink. Ye shouldnae have," John smiles, letting his accent slip deliberately. The stranger's eyebrow rises as he tries to decipher what John just said. This close, John also gets to smell him. The stranger’s wearing something interesting, no doubt very expensive. There’s musk, at first, then some exotic wood, morphing into something dark and spicy. There are layers to it, and John finds that he actually really likes it.

"It's no bother. You looked like you were debating whether or not to have another, I merely assisted." The stranger has a nice, deep voice with a distinct rasp to it. There's also a hint of accent. Manchester, maybe? John licks his lips.

"Mhm, was waiting for some company, but it seems I’ve been stood up," John says with a pretend annoyance.

“One person’s loss is another’s gain,” the stranger notes cryptically, taking a swing from his glass. John smirks. Oh, the lad is smooth, if direct. John’s definitely interested, and it seems to be mutual.

“Name’s John,” he extends his hand.

The stranger takes it. His palms are dry, warm, and surprisingly soft. “Simon.”

John lets go of Simon’s hand after holding it for what would definitely be considered too long. “Simon,” he rolls the name on his tongue. It’s a soft name, gentle, almost. No hard r’s or pointed t’s. “’S a nice name.”

“Thank you?” Simon chuckles. That, too, seems a bit out of character, but maybe he simply read Simon wrong. “You sound local, are you?”

John smiles, fiddling with the glass and turning it in his fingers. “Aye, from Inverness, actually. I’m only in Glasgow for a few days before I head back. What brings you here?”

“Business,” the answer is clipped. It’s clear that he’s unwilling to discuss it any further. John doesn’t mind; he’s not that interested, anyway. “I have to say, I’m somewhat surprised by the city. I’ve heard so many bad things about it, and I can see why.” John is already jumping the gun, more than ready to defend Scotland and all its parts (even the certifiably weird ones) from yet another smug, entitled Brit, but Simon isn’t finished yet. “It’s got character, and most people don’t like that. They want simple, uncomplicated, boring things.”

“What do you want, Simon?” John narrows his gaze, boring into the whisky-brown eyes.

“Something interesting,” he smiles, swallowing the last of his drink. Before he sets the glass down, he runs his tongue over the edge, chasing the last remnants of the taste. It’s a deliberate show for John’s eyes only.

Feeling bold, John rests his hand on Simon’s knee. The implications of the gesture are clear as day. How would it feel to have those large hands on him? To be overpowered and taken? Or, maybe even better yet, to have all this strength beneath him? To command it? Having Simon surrendering and pliant? John quiets his mind, lest the rest of the bar gets an eyeful of his stiff prick; these awfully tight jeans would do absolutely nothing to hide it.

“If you’re thinking half of what I’m thinking,” Simon says, low and incredibly enticing, “we should probably move this upstairs.”

John hasn’t paid and exited an establishment faster in his life, with Simon right behind him.

They are keeping their hands to themselves until the door closes behind them. After that, it’s a fair game.

John pulls Simon down for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Before he can do anything more, he’s being manhandled. Simon presses him against the wall, grabbing his arse and hoisting him up as if John weights nothing. John lets out an exasperated laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it but plays along, wrapping his legs around Simon’s waist and his arms around his neck. His prick is pressed between their bodies, and John rolls his hips, gasping at the amount of delicious friction he gets.

“I bet I could come like this,” John breathes out, half drunk off his scotch, Simon’s smell and this entire scenario, which only just an hour ago, seemed preposterous and could never work.

“Now, wouldn’t that be a shame when we have a perfectly good bed to ruin, sweetheart?” Simon growls, running the tip of his tongue along his ear, and John shivers. The pet name is new, and as stupid as it is, it’s doing something to him.

“Let me down, then,” John asks, and Simon obliges, unaware of what he just unleashed.

John shoves him back with enough force to catch Simon off-guard, sending him stumbling back until the back of his knees bump into the bed. He goes down without a fight. Before he can do anything more, John is on him, straddling his waist and impatiently working on the small buttons of Simon’s shirt. He’s tempted to cut his losses and rip the damn thing, but Simon probably wouldn’t approve. Never one for frivolous wasting.

Finally, finally! He reveals a pale chest dominated by a long, thick scar from the heart surgery, a flat abdomen with fine, fair hair, a collection of more scars. He knows every and each one of them intimately.

John kisses Simon on the neck, then the collarbone, and proceeds to lick at his nipple, revelling in the tight gasp he gets. He does it again, grazing his teeth over the hardened nub. Simon grabs at his forearm, grip strong enough to leave bruises.

“Fuck, Johnny...,” he breathes out. Now that’s out of character. Are they back to their usual selves? Whatever.

John doesn’t waste time, getting rid of Simon’s belt, unbuttoning his pants and divesting him of them quickly.

John drinks the sight in. Simon’s shirt lies open and crumpled around him, the blood-red colour of it beautifully contrasting against the paleness of his skin. The simple black briefs strain with his hard prick. It’s a sinful picture, one John commits to memory. For this moment alone, the whole charade was absolutely worth it. However, the moment passes, and John desperately needs more.

Bending over the edge of the bed, he finds Ghost's duffel bag and, soon after, a bottle of lube and condoms. Not that they need those; it's merely a testament to how far Ghost was willing to go with the roleplay. Before he can turn around, Ghost smacks his arse as John very helpfully offered.

John yelps in surprise, looking at Simon with the most disapproving look he can muster. A sly grin that answers him tells him he wasn't very successful. Were he slightly less horny, he would think about some proper vengeance; as it is, he takes off his briefs, breathing out as slightly chiller air hits his prick.

He's a bit careless with the preparation, partly because he already did some beforehand. Simon watches him with searing intensity as John fingers himself open. He doesn't say a word, doesn't as much as twitch a muscle. He just looks with an insatiable hunger as John finally removes Simon's underwear and resumes his place sitting on Simon's hips.

"Tell me what you want, Simon?" John purrs, enjoying the momentary illusion of power.

Simon smirks, putting his hands on John's thighs, kneading the muscles gently but insistently. "Need me to spell it out for you? I wanna fuck that tight arse of yours until all that'll be left in your pretty head is my name."

John's breath catches in his throat, his blue eyes widening a fraction. They do a bit of dirty talk every now and then, but it still catches him by surprise. He does recover quickly. While his brain, for once, doesn't have anything clever to say to Simon, he opts for something even better as he takes Simon's prick and slowly sinks down on it. He moans loudly, not holding back in the slightest. He has to when they shag in the barracks, and he hates it just as much as Simon does.

"Fuuuck, I love yer cock," Johnny whines as he bottoms out, closing his eyes and enjoying the stretch and the fullness. He startles a little bit as Simon takes his prick in hand, giving it a firm, slow tug.

"I think my cock loves you too, Johnny," Simon chuckles, but it's breathless and strained.

Johnny huffs out a laugh before he goes up and down again, maybe a tad too fast. He whimpers and knits his brows together, but the discomfort subsides soon. He sets a steady rhythm then, even though he knows they won't last. Simon wanks him off like a bloody specialist, and judging by his low moans and unfocused gaze, he's not far behind.

He doesn't mind. It's dead brilliant, really. Picking up the pace, Simon helps him a bit, meeting him halfway. The room is filled with the filthiest of sounds: wet slapping of skin meeting skin, moans and breathy encouragements. Johnny gives up, whining as Simon jerks him to completion while fucking him through it. It's an absolute bliss that swallows him whole.

Simon is mindful, slowing down a little bit but never stopping as he chases his own orgasm. It's just around the corner, clawing at his insides with the insistent "yes, yes, yes, just a little more, almost there, come on, come…" until he groans, throwing his head back on the pillow, arching up and fucking into Johnny, as deep as he can get as he rides the high.

"Not bad for a one-night stand, huh?" Soap says smugly because, of course, he has to say something bloody stupid.

"I've had better," Ghost deadpans, fully aware that the remark will get him at least two days of silence.

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ao3 writer #soap mw2 #ghoap #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[courfee]

if this be done (part 1)

@jegulus-microfic | august 26 - crow | wc 1.1k | part 1, 2, 3

a magical realism au with witchboy james :)

James Potter lives in a beautiful cottage in the middle of a green forest with red shutters on all his windows and yellow flowers of every variety one can think of in his garden. His hair is as messy as his working desk, his smile as bright as the early morning sun streaming through his kitchen window, his hands as warm as the fire keeping a big cauldron bubbling at all odd hours of the day, and his heart is as open as the door to his house.

James Potter is a witch, and a skilled one at that, and he offers his abilities up to anyone who asks for help. A plea for a remedy against an especially peculiar sickness is met with a vial full of purple, steaming potion, a cry for help about a spell gone wrong is silenced with a scroll of a messily scrawled on counter spell, and a knock on his door from a lost soul with a heartache is answered with empathy and patience, a gentle smile, an open ear and cup of hot chocolate.

His work helps people and the people help James in return, sending well wishes and favours and ingredients for his potions. Moreover, they give James something to do and someone to be, a person who likes to help and is always there when needed.

He likes his life, likes his work and likes what it has done for him. It’s his magic that brought his best friends into his life, all of them in a similar fashion.

First had been Peter Pettigrew, a small boy with bright eyes and a brighter laugh. Or, he was a boy once James had found the right spell and the correct combination of daisyroot draught and honesty honey, buttercup brew and sunflower syrup. It took a while until James managed to turn him from the little brown rat that had turned up on his doorstep back into the boy he had been before he had stumbled into the wrong pixie ring and eaten the wrong mandrake leaves.

After that, word spread out quickly and Sirius Black was the next one to turn up. A loud and cheerful boy by day who, at night, turned quiet and terrified, the remnants of his family life that had ended when his mother had cursed him to be a big black dog, like his namesake in the stars. The re-transformation was more difficult this time round. Curses were not one of James’ specialities, and it took a while for him to undo the damage – at least the physical one – that his family had left on him. In the months it took Sirius stayed with him, and by the end James had not only gained more knowledge but a best friend as well.

Last had been Remus Lupin. He, too, had come to seek help about an animal problem. Turning into a wolf when the moon stood high and full plagued him even during the moonless days and, having heard of James’ previous success regarding animal transformations, he had sought him out, with scars on his face and hope in his eyes.

James didn’t exactly fail that time. He never managed to complete what he had sat out to do, but when, after having to bring Remus’ the news that he would not manage to turn him back into a full-time human, Remus smiled at him and said “I do not mind anymore,” James knew he still had managed to help where help was needed. Remus completed their little band of marauders, and with them found the acceptance he had always needed, and on top of that found love he had never expected to find with Sirius.

All in all it doesn’t surprise James when one afternoon in the late days of summer there is a knock on his front door and he opens it to find yet another animal looking up at him with dark, beady eyes and asking, a voice more human than crow-like, “Are you James Potter?”

James smiles, pushes the door further open and says, “That I am. Come on in and tell me what I can do for you.”

The crow walks in, head held high, black feathers shimmering in the green glow of the forest, and follows James to his living room. James takes a seat on his worn-out sofa and motions the crow to do the same.

“My name is Regulus,” the crow says, once perched on the arm rest opposite James, “and I have found myself in the unfortunate situation of being cursed.”

James smiles at Regulus, encouragingly and brightly, and says, “Lucky for you I’ve gained some experience with curses last year. It’s still not my speciality, but I will do what I can do unravel the curse so you can walk on two legs again.”

Regulus gives him a look that makes it obvious that had he still had eyebrows, they would now lift up into his hairline. “I am walking on two legs,” he says flatly. “It’s not the walking I’m concerned about.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, all my previous clients had four legs when they came to me. This is a bit of a change, you see? But no matter, I’m sure there is not much difference between a crow and a dog.”

“Maybe I should find a different witch,” Regulus huffs. “One who is competent enough to not think a crow and a dog are anything alike.”

“Regulus,” James says, and the name feels pleasantly cold and smooth on his tongue, “You will find that I am the most competent witch.”

“And the most arrogant one, too, it seems.”

It is the first time that James’ smile falters, fog obscuring the morning sun. “I’ll help you,” James says. “It will take time and it won’t be easy, but I’ll help you. But for the duration of the process you will have to stay in my house.”

The crow grumbles, but he nods his little head. 

“And while you are here I will not brook you being unkind to anyone who comes by. If you can’t be a decent human being – or crow, for that matter – to any of the people who seek help from me, then I cannot help you either.”

Regulus steps from one foot onto the other, ruffling his feathers as he gives this a thought. “I’m not an unkind person,” he says finally, “I simply cannot stand stupidity and people so often are stupid. But I’ll step aside when you have clients and will not bother them. Does that work?” Regulus seems rather rude to James and he must admit he doesn’t quite like him from the few words they have exchanged. But he is James Potter, and who he is is a person who likes to help and is always there when needed. No matter how awful of a person, Regulus needs his help, and so James blows away the fog, gives Regulus a sunny smile and nods. “That works. Welcome to my home, Regulus, make yourself comfortable and I will start looking for the right spells.”

#this is the second microfic im writing the first one is in the queue for tomorrow hehe #this was a very spontaneous thing and unfortunately the setup for the story got a little away from me #so i think ill have to make this a little micro fic series because i like them too much for this #the first two paragraphs are probably my favourite beginning to a story ive ever written and im incredibly mad at myself #cause this was just supposed to be a couple hundred words of crow regulus #and instead it turned into this #jegulus #james x regulus #regulus x james #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders #marauders fanfiction #microfic #my writing #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #mine #Hp #if this be done

[pixielovers2account]

What a cute voice.

This story is pure fluff! The reader doesn’t talk till the end she does talk in her mind. If that makes since.

I sat on her live watching her eat the kiwi. (Your so beautiful) a chat said (what’s your number Jenna?) she read out the comments with a smile raising a brow “why would I give my number I don’t know you.” She laughs a bit taking another (what are you eating) she read out that message licking her lips “what am I eating? Oh it’s a kiwi.” She shows it to the camera “it’s a fruit.” She takes another bite her lips wrapping around the brown and green fruit leaving and imprint in the fruit.

My finger pressed on the keyboard letter by letter I sent her the message. “How can I meet you in person?” She reads out loud leaning back “well I walk a lot, chance you might see me on the street. Uhm you can also come to like one of the meet and greets but it’s rare that you can get close to me so it’s really a matter of if you get lucky or not.” I listened closely to what she said I smiled to myself typing a quick “thank you” on the chat before leaving.

I looked out my window seeing the dark sky and the piercing moon burning the sky with it’s beautiful bright light.

I got up from my chair flopping onto my bed curling up into a ball as I yawn. “Meet her while she walks…yea right there’s no way she’s had complete different time period…” I criticized closing my eyes tears falling as I remembered a lost memory a memory that she’ll have forgotten.

I sat alone on a bench. Looking down at the sad sandwich that had been ran over. I frown as I threw it away groaning to myself with a childish pout. “What’s wrong?” A voice spoke behind me I turn meeting beautiful feel brown eyes. A younger Jenna stood in front of me. I slowly nodded. She tilted her head her eyes looked to the sandwich. “Did your food fall? Is that why your mad?” She looks back to me with a kind smile reaching in her purse, pulling out a couple of bills. I licked my lips tilting my head. “Here, it’s enough to get you another one.” She hands me the money and change I looked down at the money a twenty dollar bill and two silver coins on top of the dollar. “This is way to much” I thought to myself as I looked up at her but she was already walking away “keep the change!” She yells back to me turning the corner.

From that moment on I promised myself to repay her. And to finally give her a proper thank you.

…

I sat at a table drinking my coffee holding a book when a storm of people took out there phones. Mumbling about something. I ignored this keeping my eyes down “what the hell was happening? Some famous stars here or something?” I asked myself In my head. I turned the page of (MIDNIGHT SUN) a book from a series. I was on the part where Edward finally met Bella and-“Jenna over here!” I looked up from my book my mind flaring with memories a hope to see the small girl as my head pounded in my chest. “Jenna?” My mind raced as i thought about the girl I stood up turning my head a crowd of people. I needed to get closer.

So I pushed and moved the crowed out the way. My eyes glowing with hope. As I seen the girl smiling at a girl that held her hand saying hi to her. “Jenna” my mind raced as I never called her out loud. I smiled as I tried to get closer but was pushed away “watch it kid!” A man yelled at me. My face contorted in disgust. He had a gray and black beard his hair line slowly deceived as his bear belly poked out of the way to small shirt. He huffed at me as he watched the girl walk away. “Damn it see what you’ve done you annoying brat.” He spat at me as his eyes met mine I frown feeling embarrassed and scared.

My lips quivered as he placed his hands on my pulling me by my white T-shirt ripping the fragile material. He pulls me up high high enough that I can see Jenna leave with her coffee and heading into a black BMW. I frown more. “Jenna” my favorite person was heading away.

“Look at me you bitch.” The man said. I looked at him with disgust and concern. I looked around the crowd noticeably growing as people pulled it there phones not bothering to help.

I looked at the man kicking his stomach. “FUCK!” He yelled as he dropped my holding his fat rolls. He curled his fist kicking me right in the head I fall back feeling myself bleed from the brim. That’s gonna hurt later as people groaned and cheered. How sick

I looked back up kicking the man in his heels standing up now I was serious. I balled up my own hands wrapping my hands around his big body pushing the man onto the frown and punching him into the wooden floor. People yelled and the manger pulled me off after a whole 40 minutes of fighting him.

I was kicked out the store banned from the place.

And what’s worse. As I went home it was all over the news. My face luckily blurred in some shots. But one I noticed you can see me clearly. “FUCK! God damn it!” I screamed in my head kicking my bed pushing my materials off of the counter. Glass broke.

Tears fell out of rage as I fell back into the flood curling into a ball crying myself to sleep on the broke. Floor.

…

My eyes slowly open to a stove a sink and broken glass. “Did I sleep here all night?” I thought slowly getting up. “My arm hurts” I looked at the dried up blood. “Maybe that’s why…” I slowly got up stumbling to the bathroom hitting every wall falling over any bag or decorations. I opened the bathroom door turning the light on seeing my fain bruised posture.

I gripped a med kit pulling the glass out of my arm. I searched for a bandaid but only found a role of duck tape…so I used it placing it over my cuts. But not before putting some cloth there obviously.

I let out a sigh going up to my room. I sat on my chair before turning on my computer finding myself on Jenna’s new video/live stream. It was 2:00 in the morning 2:00…I sighed as I watched her answer questions. (What do you think about the video) one asked another asked (is she a crazy ex girlfriend!?) I read all of the insults and praises. “No guys please I don’t think the fight was really about me maybe something happened to where she fought him.” She defended me. Suddenly I was glad that they don’t have suck a great picture of me the only clear one was me with my head down as I was thrown out the store.

I let out a sigh as she answered more and more questions defending me each time. (What do you think about the girl? Is she innocent.) this one I typed myself “is she innocent? Yes yes I really do think she is but you never know I guess.” She shrugs. This gave me some peace of mind as I logged off. Closing my computer and going to sit on my bed.

Tomorrows a new day…

…

I sat in front of the computer. A guitar in my hand and a mask over my face as i started to play a tune. A live stream I had. (Your such a good play)

(Face reveal?)

(Omg Jenna’s here!)

(Guys Jenna is here!)

(My wife finally came lol)

(Oh cool Jenna Ortega is here.)

I looked at the messages likes and comments people told me over and over again that Jenna was here. I decided to look for myself. Spotting the girls account. (Why is she here doesn’t she not like TikTok?) a lot of people questioned having Theory’s that she was my girlfriend or some type of connection to that.

I smiled to myself in the mask.

(Should I make a song about Jenna?) I asked the community with a comment. I got a lot of unanimous responses. I started off a slow tone. I see Jenna making a comment on the video say that I don’t have to and that she was just a fan…a fan of me Jenna Ortega the nice girl was a fan of me.

I made a soft song no words to it just a calming melody. I wasn’t one to talk to I let my guitar do the talking little word hidden in the song if you listen.

(Your eyes shine so bright your hair just like honey like the bees your on a bright shinny day voice just as calming soft like the waves. Man what is happening I feel my heart dancing away from my body jumping out of my body your eyes keeping awake your size leaving me a trace of something that I can’t believe what’s happening to me? Oh yeah I love the way your eyes shine so bright your perfect-) the lyrics cut off I didn’t know what else to say. I mean I am saying all of this in my head but still. But also writing this down.

I stopped playing saying to the chat I was lost I didn’t know what else to say or really play.

Maybe one day she can help me.

…

The rain pattered on the the streets floor as I walked to the bus stop. It’s been a month after all the times I’ve tried to find her. I think I’ve given up. I looked at the 20 dollar bill and the two dimes and one carter that had fallen out of my hand that day I met her. I let out a sigh as I sat on the bench a familiar one. I frowned as I pulled out a sandwich. Picking at it throwing it on the floor. I pouted grossing my arms as I crossed my leg letting out a groan

“Hey what’s wrong?”

My eyes widened at the soft voice such a familiar vanilla like voice I slowly looked up spotting the girl with damp hair and a small smile. “Hi” she said now sitting beside me. I looked in front off me quickly as she laughed a bit “isn’t this funny here again huh?” My eyes widened she remembered that? “Here.” She held her hand out with money inside. I shake my head rejecting her “oh?” She raised a brow as I pulled out my own money handing it to her. She smiled taking it in her hand “thank you so much.”

She looked at me licking her lips “you don’t talk much do you.” I shake my head my hair bouncing with it. She nodded to herself “I wonder why…” i think this was supposed to be for herself as she said it quietly. She slowly stood up stretching “I should go…bye oh and keep the change.”

My eyes shinned with amusement as she started away “Jenna” my voice was small yet noticeable. She stopped dead in her tracks. As she looked at my with a curious and surprised expression “what did you say?” She seemed excited “Jenna thank you Jenna.” She showed her pearly whites as she turned to me. “What’s your name?”

She asked kindly.

“My names Y/n” she nodded licking her lips.

“Y/n what a cute voice”

And for the first time I stepped out of my comfort zone and called out to her.

#female reader #jenna ortega #lesbian

[sun-roach]

Okay so here are some more ocs. Tbh I am not that happy with the little drabble/fic at the end but I am honestly to tired to care rn. Might rewrite it someday idk

Captain Knife

Hair: undercut (shaved two lines that cross), curly short hair that is slightly styled up

Eyes: heterochromia (one is dark brown (almost black) , the other is grey blue

Facial scars: on his left cheek is a long scar that goes down to his chin, another one crosses that scar from his earlobe diagonally up over his nose towards his hairline

Beard: stubbles

Facial tats: golden sun ray stripes on his right temple

Other facial details: his left canine teeth is chapped, has very light freckles all over his face

Body tats: stripes around his left biceps that run down his inner forearm and form half a circle in his palm (his general has the other half )

Other body details: multiple scars from battles, freckles

Armor: orange grey, very minimal, no real pattern, just dunked different pieces of his armor in his battalion’s colors, kama

Weapons: twin blasters, butterfly vibro-knife, daggers

Preferred combat style: hand to hand close combat

Knife sits on a heavy box filled with new rations. While he fidgets with his favorite butterfly knife, his odd eyes gaze over his men. They look tired, down, unmotivated. He can’t blame them. Since one of their commanders suddenly had disappeared, everything started to fall apart. And the lieutenant who should take over the commanders spot, refuses to do so.

Fork.

Knife never met a brother like him. Quiet, warm, so utterly soft hearted that it is almost sickening. So shy yet fierce if he has to be, instruction and orders always clear.

If someone asked Knife about Fork, he would tell them that the lieutenant isn’t cut out to be a soldier. He doesn’t belong into a cold war. Fork takes things personally very quick, despite being also very understanding.

Fork is an easy victim for their brothers. A target of many. Knife had noticed his loneliness and had tried to talk to him. But no matter what Knife had said… he made it worse.

Fork might hate him now, if he thinks about it. Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased him about his name. Or his rank. Maybe he shouldn’t have teased him at all since everyone else does so.

Honey brown eyes suddenly meet his odd ones. There is curiosity written in it but also something Knife doesn’t understand. Is it hate? Fear? Wary?

The Lieutenant starts to sign a question. Knife waits, watches until he is done.

Am I doing something wrong? Do you need something?

Anyone would tell Fork that there is nothing to worry about. But not Knife, because there is something the blond is doing wrong in his eyes.

"This is your men's job. You were assigned somewhere else. Why are you doing this?"

Maybe he could have told him in a lighter, warmer way, asked him more carefully, since it’s obvious that the lieutenant isn’t doing well.

Fork's failed campaign had caused him to work harder, but at the same time to neglect himself even more. A behavior Knife can understand but not really tolerate. If the man in lead is broken, the rest will crumble.

Fork quickly signs him back, he already finished his work and his men needed some help, which Knife doubts. Those men are just taking advantage of their warm hearted lieutenant.

Just as Knife wants to reply to him a blue skinned jedi steps closer to him. The pantoran has dark blue hair braided into a high ponytail. Golden eyes lighten up as they see Knife. Knife, who stops fidgeting with the blade in his hand almost immediately.

"Kari. You should be meditating."

Knife might not be her right hand, but he knows her schedule, he knows Kassori Mivi like his own heart.

A quiet chuckle escapes the jedi as she steps closer to press her forehead against his.

All tension suddenly leaves his shoulders, her mind embracing his.

"I was, Knife. But it seemed to be more exciting out here. Fork how are you doing?"

The blue jedi pulls away from Knife to smile gently at the blond. Fork looks from her to Knife and back again, excusing himself that he has to work.

Knife isn’t sure why it angers him. Kassori tries to befriend him but Fork…

"He feels responsible… for all their deaths. He thinks he failed me. But I am the one who-"

The captain pulls her back against him, cupping her cheek and gently forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I dislike it when you do this. The war is not your fault, Kari. This is why you shouldn’t neglect your meditating. Isn’t your magic thing telling you the same?"

"The force is not- "

Kassori sighs as he looks into Knife's cold, yet caring eyes. There is so much loathing and longing deep inside of him.

The jedi leans further in to brush her lips gently against his.

"Perhaps I should listen to you more often Captain."

She steps back, eyes sparkling as golden as the sun behind her.

She always leaves. Always steps back. Knife would like to pull her back, ask for more. But he doesn’t dare. He will never dare to overstep. They had talked about it. This is why their relationship is open.

Yet his heart belongs to her. It always will. Everyone knows. Even her fellow jedi.

Knife shakes his head and lets out a dry snort.

"You should. Go meditate before I get the shinies to look at you with their tooka eyes."

"Why… but they could join the meditation. Call them. Or would you like to join me, Knife?"

The captain puts his knife back and looks at his men before eyeing her yet again.

"Let me get the Shinies. They could use the rest. "

#oc: knife #oc: kassori mivi #oc: fork #captain knife #lieutenant fork #jedi knight kari #107th battalion #star wars #tcw #sw tcw #sw oc

[ripperplague]

Can you post a description of all the Ro’s pretty pleaseeeee? Also, stay healthy dear author!

If you want the detailed description you'll have to wait for chapter four because I'd lose the rhythm of the story since you'd already know. In other words spoiler spoiler and spoiler.

I did however post a brief description on the forum, here it is:

Duke Cyrus Trillain (M)

He’s the nephew of your patron and father figure Darius.

He’s 6’2 with Indigo hair, cream skin and icy blue eyes.

He’s got three years on you, a fact which urks him more than you considering that he will never be smarter than you. Arrogant, Smug and very easy to rile, he’s sees you as an “infantile fool”, a bookworm with their head in the clouds. A puppy, he’s responsible for. He reminds you of a horse’s foot, hard on the outside but soft on the inside. The barbs, the taps on your head, the shoving and the lectures. They’re his way of showing affection to a kid he took under his wing. He broke his best friend’s jaw because the boy called you a “Filthy orphan” and yelled at you after that for not sticking up for yourself.

But where do you stand now. You were frenemies until six years ago. Now he’s the duke and wants you dead.

Or so you think.

2. Weapons Marshal Blade Veslyn (M)

He’s the Weapons Marshal for the Empress. The post of Weapons Marshall is the most ambiguous of all. Spy, Assassin, General, Soldier, Bodyguard are a few guesses. He’s the Empress’s right hand man and why he’s in Valeris is a mystery.

You’ve never met him but you’ve heard plenty about him from Cyrus. From what you know, they’re academy buddies and blood sworn friends but that doesn’t explain why he’s so interested in you.

Morbid, curt, blunt and stone cold, he has a sense of humor darker than Cyrus.

If Cyrus is fire then Blade is ice, they both cut deep but differently.

It’s almost like he’s baiting you to make a wrong move. To give him an excuse to finish you off.

He’s 6’3 with one blood red pupil, a sign of the red baron infection while his other eye is a dark charcoal. It’s like staring into the gateways of two dimensions and neither of them are pleasant.

He wears a shift patch over his scarred eye, even though he can see clearly with it. Which is another mystery to you. Patients with infected eyes die faster because the virus infects their brain through the optic nerves. He’s alive and can still see through the eye. His hair is black which contrasts with his pale, slightly sick skin. His injuries in the war coupled with the plague had left the doctors no option but to replace his left arm, shoulder blade and chest region. When you listen for a heartbeat, you hear the ticking of gears.

3. Commander Gauge “Silver/Silvia” Cartis (M/F/NB)

Gauge is the Second in command to the forces of Trillain. They are a Naval officer who was personally chosen by Cyrus to be his second. You can see why, unlike Cyrus, Gauge is level headed, cool, stable and kind. They’re a sweet gentle soul who keeps Cyrus and Blade in line.

They simply don’t understand why someone of your caliber would do what you did.

Also are one of the few people who’ve treated you like a human, like you’re worthy of their affection.

He is 5’11 with sandy brown hair, blue green eyes and olive skin.

She is 5’9 with sandy brown hair, blue green eyes and olive skin.

They are 5’10 with sandy brown hair, blue green eyes and olive skin.

4. Raz (F)

A fixer and dealer who knows everything. Backstories, secrets, information are her currency. She’s also the bartender/bouncer at THE RED BARON, a pub frequented by criminals and rebels. Even the Vanguard know better than to set foot in there.

The woman’s an enigma to you and behind every joke, every sly comeback is a deep sadness that seems to leak out every time she’s around you. She finds you fascinating because you’re a mystery to her, she often spends her free time stalking you, watching you, wondering whether you’re an innocent framed for a crime you didn’t commit.

She’s caring, funny, fierce, strong and desperately lonely. Just like you.

Raz has wavy black hair, light brown skin,dark brown eyes lined with kohl and she’s 5’8.

5. Skylar Revthrone (F)

Barely eighteen and she’s already a hardened patriot ready to die for her country. A genius when it comes to machines, Sky’s skill set includes bombs and explosives. She also makes dolls and toys for children with spare parts. It helps her calm down and gives her something to focus on. Just like Sam she’s worried about being left behind because she’s the youngest on the team.

She’s wonky, friendly and might have a crush on you. She blushes easily and is extremely possessive if you show any inclination that you might like her too. But she’s young and it’s your fear that this is just puppy love, she’s never been a relationship let alone felt attraction at this magnitude.

You worry if she will see you the same when she finds out the truth.

Skylar has golden hair, green eyes, peach skin and stands at 5’2

6. Brin Masserius(NB)

The Ambassador from the capital who’s in Valeris for the treaty.

Brin is a fiercely intelligent politician who hide a timid heart behind that pearly smile. They don’t know what to make of you and think of you as the puzzle piece they can’t fit right. They can’t seem to decide between admiration and suspicion when it comes to you. However they’re determined to use you as a pawn whether you like it or not. After all it’s what they’ve been trained for. One minute they’re all dimples and at peace around you but the next that fake courteous smile floats back and you’re Doctor Sierra once again.

They’re confused, controlled and hide a broken core under that charm.

Brin is 5’7, has ebony skin, hazel eyes, shoulder length hair styled in a silver grey balayage.(I know it’s not exactly steampunk but this is their hair when I picture them in my head.)

7. Atlas Revthorne (M/F/NB)

Atlas is the leader of the resistance and thinks of themself as a robin hood figure. Bombing court houses, aristocratic establishments and snipping out the corrupt nobles, officials is their bread and butter. They’re the most wanted person in the Empire but ranked beneath you thanks to the bounty on your head. The Duke Sizario of Valeris is their main target and behind that wolfish smirk is a broken, angry young person out for revenge and freedom.

Atlas is crude, charming and dangerous. They’ll flirt with you with a dagger at your throat and are a brilliant leader. Unlike most of the people you meet, they don’t skirt around the issue about your conviction. They rub it in your face to get a rise out of you. Unlike Cyrus whose barbs feel deserved and come from a place of great anguish, Atlas likes to play with your temper and drives you crazy in all the right and wrong ways.

You can’t tell where he stands with you. Maybe that’s the way they want it or maybe they know something you don’t.

[a-basket-of-muses]

Muses

OCs

Carell

Name: Carell

Age: Mid twenties

Race: Half-demon

Sexuality: Homosexual

Description: Honey blonde hair that lights to a light golden in the summer and darkens to near brown in the winter.

Height: 5’9” or 175.26 cm

Forms: Human (illusion), Base: mostly human looking but with the traditional fox ears/tail/claws, Fox: Large ears with gold eyes, a marble colored coat in a mix of white, gray, silver but all four paws and legs are pitch black

Personality: Untrusting and rude at first meeting. He’ll generally be short or sarcastic with people he doesn’t know well. If you get to know him, he’ll still be sarcastic but he’ll be more willing to talk and show emotion.

TW: ABUSE

Backstory: Carell doesn’t remember much. Just that he was in the care of his father who abused and raped him as a child until he was somewhere in his teens. Then he was sold to the slave trade where he spent his young adult life in the possession of different masters. He escaped his last master by killing him and now makes a living anyways he can.

Occupation: Because of his past he’s usually a prostitute. However, he will sometimes be in construction or will even design jewelry.

Likes: Dancing, singing, music, fighting. He loves to move and use his body and can use it well. So he will sometimes combine music and dancing. Music is also his passion. He doesn’t just listen and enjoy music he FEELS it.

Dislikes: Being dirty, being in a dirty place, or someone trying to control him. He’s fiercely independent

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. Largely because Carell’s past is the same in just about every verse. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Brandon

Name: Brandon Avalon

Age: Mid Twenties

Race: Human

Sexuality: Pan or Demi?

Height: 5’11” or 180.34 cm

Description: Brown hair, cut short so it stays out of his eyes, which are also brown

Forms: Human

Personality: Kind and selfless. He's the kind of guy that will go out if his way to smile and talk to someone if it looks like they're having a bad day regardless of what's going on with him.

TW: ABUSE/SUICIDE

Backstory: His mother died giving birth to him, so he never met her. He had an older brother that he looked up to and practically worshiped. His father's second wife would abuse his older brother until his brother eventually committed suicide, leaving a note that explained everything. She went to jail and his father divorced her. So for a while it was just him and his father. He didn't get another stepmother until he was 17, but he loved her and she loved him. However, tragedy struck again when his father and stepmother were hit by a drunk driver and killed. Leaving Brandon completely on his own. To add insult to injury his family was never very financially stable, so his parents' untimely deaths saddled him with a lot of debt.

Occupation: He works as a barista in the morning, a short order chef in the afternoons/evenings and at night he'll work as a bartender.

Dislikes: Drunks and assholes. Anyone that will take advantage of someone else for their own gain.

Likes: Cooking is his love, dreams of one day running his own kitchen.

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Byron

Name: Byron Setter

Age: Early Thirties

Race: Human/Werewolf

Sexuality: Pan

Height: 6’3” or 190.5 cm

Description: Dark brown hair, with a matching beard that is kept well maintained and appropriately trimmed. Blue eyes colored more like a winter sky. So they're quite pale.

Forms: Human, Wolf: Mostly reddish brown with yellow eyes. Has a stripe(blaze) of white running between his eyes down to his nose.

Personality: He's a goofy/funny kind of guy. He'd prefer it if everyone around him was smiling and laughing.

Backstory: Of all my muses he had the most normal upbringing. He lived comfortably in middle-class as a child and has a good relationship with his parents and much older sister. His parents are now retired and are living in Paris. Though his parents are quite "old-fashioned" and tried to push gender norms on their kids it didn't always work. His sister would often teach Byron how to cook and would even paint his nails. He did go to college and now has a teaching degree.

Occupation: As stated in his backstory Byron has a degree in teaching. He specifically teaches English/Literature, usually in high school, but will teach younger kids. He won't teach higher than high school because that would require him to go back to school for a higher degree and he feels like he doesn't have the time.

Dislikes: Abusive, neglectful parents. Anyone that tries to question his teaching methods or shows that they themselves are uneducated.

Likes: Teaching his kids, dogs, reading. He'll even do knitting or cross-stitch if he has time.

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Aiden

Name: Aiden

Age: 150 years, or there about?

Race: Dragon

Sexuality: Hetero-flexable

Height: 5’10” or 177.8 cm

Description: Very average looking. Brown hair/eyes. Nothing particularly remarkable about him. He uses this to hide in plain sight

Forms: Human, Dragon: As large as a small house (yes he’s on the smaller side) with violet scales and orange eyes, both colors holding a burnt hue. Similar to a sunrise/set

Personality: Easy-going sort of guy. He doesn’t usually let things bother him. Though he does get a bit jumpy wherever someone talks about dragons still existing.

Backstory: He was born in a clutch of seven. He and his siblings often ran around and played in the fields and valleys. Aiden took to the sky first, having an affinity for air. When it was nearly time for him to be recognized as an adult his homeland was attacked. Dragon hide and fangs are valuable after all. Aiden took off, fleeing like several others. The rest were killed and the fields they cultivated and played in were burned with a cursed fire. Ensuring nothing else would grow there ever again.

Occupation: Aiden works as a street vendor. He uses his own shed scales to make necklaces, bracelets, charms or will just sell the scales as they are.

Dislikes:

Likes:

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Hotaru

Name: Hotaru

Age: Somewhere between 200 and 300 looks like she's in her twenties.

Race: Demon (Half cat, half fox)

Sexuality: Demi

Height: 5’2” or 157.48 cm

Description: Bloor red hair that drags the ground and spring green eyes

Forms: Human (real), Base: Rounded cat ears and a fluffy fox tail, claws, Fox: Traditional red fox with brown lowlights and eyes, Cat: Pure black with yellow eyes and a long slender tail.

Personality: Very polite to anything and anyone. She tends to speak very formally, especially to people she doesn't know well. But be warned, she's no pushover. She has a spine of titanium and isn't afraid to cut you down if you cross her.

Backstory: Hotaru was born to a cat mother and a fox father, who had their own farm. Both of her parents had the ability to manipulate plants. So growing vegetables was a good way for them to earn a living. Her siblings all got powers similar that would help them in a profession or in combat (as most demons prefer to fight) Water, plants, poison. Hotaru herself gained the ability to heal with her hands. An ability that is rare for any demon, but is almost unheard of for cats and foxes, both races being more combat focused. To celebrate they decided to go to a festival at a nearby town. But the town was attacked by a fire welding demon that burned everything down. She was the only survivor. Now on her own she wondered, wondering how she would survive, only to later be kidnapped and trained to be an assassin. After nearly a century there she used her skills to escape. She was able to establish herself in a human settlement as a healer, earning money from donations. Now in modern times she is quite wealthy and has gone to school several times for medicine, though she doesn't outright practice. Instead she runs her own combination of apothecary, flower shop, and aromatherapy center.

Occupation: Business owner, aromatherapist.

Dislikes: Fire. She's been terrified of fire ever since her family was killed.

Likes: She loves flowers and being able to help people.

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Constance

Name: Constance

Age: Early Twenties

Race: Mermaid

Sexuality: Straight

Height 5’6” or 167.64 cm

Description: Black hair to about mid-back and green eyes

Forms: Human, Mer: Upperbody looks mostly human. Eyes are a solid color, she has a second row of razor sharp teeth and her tail begins mid abdomen, covered in dark purple and blue scales with bright pink scales scattered throughout.

Personality: Generally naive and shy but gets confident and determined when she’s out on the field.

Backstory: She was found as a baby trapped in some fishing nets. The man that owned the net took her home to his wife and after being dry for an hour her tail split and became legs. She was never hurt by her parents, but was kept under strict conditions. In order to keep her from ever going into the water again she was told that she's allergic to water, so she can only ever have a sponge bath and that the scales that form on her legs when she cleans up are hives.

Dislikes:

Likes: Running is her favorite activity. So much so that she's on the track and field team. As long as she doesn't fall behind on her grades.

Occupation: College student. General studies because even though her parents want her to be a doctor, she doesn't know what she wants to do.

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Jason

JASON IS NOT FULLY MADE!! INTERACTING IS HOW HE GETS FLESHED OUT!

Name: Jason

Age: 3-400?

Race: Phoenix

Sexuality: ???

Height: 6'3 or 182.88 cm

Description: Black hair cut short and neat, pale skin and bright blue eyes.

Forms: Human, Avian: primary wings are the same shade of blue as his eyes in human form with highlights of pale blue and lowlights of black. His eyes also turn black.

Personality: Stoic and reserved. Doesn't always show emotion and if he does it's only with those he's very close with.

Backstory: He's a soldier, something of a spy or infiltrator so he's very good at following orders without question, even if he disagrees with those orders. He's burned and been reborn six times, mostly from life threatening injuries he got on the job, but at least twice was because he simply got too old.

Dislikes:

Likes:

Occupation:

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

Canon

Please note that my canon muses will not be 100% I will play them as on point as I can, but I will also play crack with them!

D. Gray-Man:

Kanda

Name: Yuu Kanda

Age: 9 (Chronologically), 19 (Physically), Probably around 30-40 (Actuality)

Race: Artificial Human

Sexuality:

Height: 5'11" or 152.4 cm

Description: Long black hair, with hints of blue in certain light that he prefers to keep tied up in a ponytail with two medium length locks that hang down on either side on his face and dark blue eyes.

Forms: Human

Personality: Cold and quick to anger, but he's not heartless. He maybe blunt but he's there for his friends.

"You're a strong woman."

Backstory: Kanda was originally an Exorcist that was killed along with his lady love (Probably somewhere in his late teens/early twenties). He was forcibly reborn by the Church to see if an accommodator that was killed could still use Innocence because they needed soldiers (Hence his young chronological age). After being reborn he meets and become friends with a boy named "Alma" who is his love reborn (they were both exorcists). Alma saw their real bodies and went crazy and Kanda regained SOME of his memories. And because I don't want to type it all out (seriously go read the books) Kanda kills Alma and works as an exorcist for several years, searching for his love. Eventually figures out that Alma WAS his love after meeting again (and fighting to the death) and he and Alma "die" together. Except regret keeps Kanda from resting peacefully so he returns to the Order.

Dislikes: Crowds, blue skys, naïve people, and CROWs (Order special forces)

Likes: Gardening, training, soba, meditaion, and camping

Occupation: Exorcist

Verses: Honestly there are so many verses people can come up with I feel little need to specify every one. This message will be copy/pasted to my other muses for the same reason.

(holy crap that was a lot. I'm just adding names for the others for now. They're canon so google them if you have to)

Tyki Mikk

Bookman Jr. "Lavi"

Ouran

Hikaru Hitachiin

Kyoya Ootori

#ooc #Muses #All the ones I have for now #They're not all done #But that's all I want to do right now

[uchihashisuii]

as the ocean kisses the shoreline. | Sai/Itachi

Summary: A canon-adjacent AU in which only some bad things happened. Sai and Itachi bonding through shared love and dedication on the seaside. Pre-relationship flirting ensues.

Pairing: Sai/Uchiha Itachi

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2926

Author’s note: this fic is the result of a discord server gift exchange for my dear friend @painttoolyamanaka​ . i hope you enjoy this bit of nonsense i threw out into the world just for you x

the timeline of this is somewhere between "uhhh" and "hmm" territory. early blank period is my best guess listen I never know what I'm doing just enjoy some boys bein sweet on each other

Ao3

-----

The first thing Sai notices about Itachi is the way he looks when he loves. The sunlight adds colour to his black hair, roots shining a warm and dark brown. The tear troughs that run down his cheeks seem less severe, the wind fanning his hair out behind him and the smallest tease of a smile curving the corner of his mouth.

He'd mention something about sun and ocean air doing wonders for a person's countenance, if he weren't so utterly tongue-tied around him. They'd met a scant few times, by virtue of Itachi being childhood friends with Akari and she having pulled Sai beneath her wing just a few short years previous. Aware of one another, in each other's orbit, but never close enough to know. They're both quiet and private by nature, Sai supposes, and surrounded themselves with others who would do the talking for them. And now they're the left-behinds at the first taste of sand and sea, the members of Sai's squad running off immediately to challenge one another to a game of volleyball, with Yamato acting as unenthused scorekeeper. Shisui and Akari made a beeline for the water, and when he looks he can see her clinging to his back and probably yelling something about not taking her in too deep. It leaves Sai and Itachi sitting next to one another on the overlarge blanket, close enough he can hear Itachi breathing over the squall of waves.

Not unkindly ignored, nothing to be insulted over. Sai can see the way Naruto waves his smooth tanned arms over his head, calling him to join. It serves as distraction and it earns Naruto a volleyball to the face. He's also spotted Shisui moving to jog back to Itachi and drag him by the hair, only to be stopped by Akari's arms about his waist to drag him into the water once more. Laughter echoes on all directions, Sai digging his bare feet further into the sand when he adjusts his weight and looks from mother to friend to taichou, leaning back on the blanket until his elbows are weighted against the soft fabric.

It isn't uncomfortable. He doesn't feel othered. Not right now, at least. He sits in the shade beside a man who seems to understand Sai without even knowing him; more content to sit and watch and bask, in the dynamics and the bonds they'd formed. Happy, to see freedom of joy and love in lives such as theirs. An outsider looking in, not quite sure how to join even after years of forced family but comfortable in the knowledge that they would be welcome, always. They're kindred spirits in that manner, Sai surmises.

Itachi in relaxation is the same Itachi in all other circumstance; composed, rigid. A quiet intensity bellying the edge of a knife. He sits with legs folded and spine straight, gaze sweeping over the sand between his brother and his friends. Even with the added humor of the great and whispered-about Uchiha Itachi sans shirt and wearing shorts decorated with small birds, revealing pale legs and with thin blue veins weaving over his bare forearms that Sai cannot force himself to look away from, still he's nothing short of utterly serious.

But his smile - barely there, just a small twitch of the mouth. Eyes softened and shoulders relaxing beneath the weight of expectation and worry, just a little. Just enough.

His face in partial profile, revealing the strong line of his nose and the way his bangs hang just past his cheekbone, brushing back over his ear from the soft breeze. It makes Sai's fingers itch towards his sketch pad, staring as he is at the older man with unrepentant wonder. He's already counting off the tools in his mind, the exact brushes and tones he'd use to capture this moment of quiet peace. His chosen medium is black ink, and whilst it would be appropriate for Itachi's graceful lines and his black hair, black eyes, black shadows dogging his strained shoulders; it wouldn't feel right. Something more abstract, colorful. He's full of fire in equal measure to any darkness, and whilst flames cast shadows so too do they bathe in light.

Sai blinks, realizing he's been staring for who knows how many minutes when Itachi turns his attention away from his nearest and dearest and towards him. Sai's mouth parts immediately, apologies dancing on the tip of his tongue -he's practiced enough at this, the shy stuttering over his words when he'd been unintentionally making someone uncomfortable- alongside explanations that he's still on the edge of understanding boundaries and proper decorum. But Itachi had waved away his words, and mentioned that being a shinobi prodigy did not equate being a social butterfly. Kindred spirits, indeed.

Sai had flushed deeply, because of course he had. Doubly so when he'd noticed that Itachi didn't lose that smile, when he looked at Sai. Still he looked like a man at peace, surrounded by those he cared for. It warmed Sai's heart as much as it did his face.

-----

He does, indeed, end up drawing Itachi. Before the heat had dug in its claws in full, when they still lazed beneath the shade of the umbrella. Itachi had spotted his hesitation, and asked in that unerringly polite tone of his if Sai would enjoy drawing the view. It's rare that they get to see it, after all. Not unkindly, though Sai had agonized for half a moment if this was nothing more that a nudge to get him to leave him alone. But Itachi had still smiled, and Sai had pulled out his sketchpad and pencils and paints with sure hands.

He'd spent time trying to perfect the precise shades of blue and white on the water lapping at shore by mixing paints, spent even less time whipping up a view of Naruto with his face red and Kakashi face-down in the sand; their game had become more volatile when he hadn't been paying attention, it would seem.

He'd spent the most time on a small portrait of Itachi. Chin cradled in his palm, that small, secret smile curving his mouth. Outlined in a light gray, filled in the black with reds and golds. Abstract, and quite lovely. It was the better view of the day, at any rate.

-----

The heat was getting the better of him, he was certain, when the sun reached its highest peak. Sai had moved to fanning himself with a scrapped page of his sketchpad, laid flat on his back in the shade that refused to further coddle him. He knew the conducive course of action would be to follow Akari's lead -and her aggressive shouting that the water was perfect- and cool off in the water, but that would require leaving his small haven beneath the umbrella. The cause of said sanctuary was currently rested on his side and facing Sai, head cushioned on his palm whilst lazily flicking through a novel.

The words danced on his tongue as they had before. An invitation to join him -surely needed, if the lone drip of sweat falling from his dark hair and down the elegant curve of his neck was anything to go by Sai wasn't staring- in walking the water. Perhaps diving in, as Shisui had done the moment they'd arrived after barely taking enough time to kick off his shoes and pull the shirt over his head, running headlong into the ocean as Akari yelled for him to be careful. Itachi might be a bit more composed than Shisui, at any rate.

The worst he can say is no, Sai reminds himself. The crush of rejection feels heavier than anything else, and he fidgets in his anxiety with brows drawn.

His movement catches Itachi's attention. The book is closed gently as he looks up at Sai from beneath thick lashes, glancing from his wide eyes to the water and back again. And, as Sai had come to expect by now, Itachi swoops in to save him any speck of confusion.

"Would you like to go in?" Itachi asks, raising a hand and gesturing towards the shore with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"Would you come with me?" The words are out in the open before Sai can think them through. He cringes, internally; the tone is light but the words, themselves, sound as though they come from a nervous child seeking bravery and assistance from someone older. And though his mind is a bit of a mess when it comes to Itachi, the very last thing he wants right now is for him to see Sai as a child. It's entirely possible he's overthinking again.

Itachi's brows furrow as though in thought, nodding once to himself before dusting any invisible sand from the smooth fabric of his shorts. "Of course. You cant leave me to be the singular hermit alone, after all."

The wry remark startles a small laugh from Sai, ducking his head to hide his smile. The warmth in Itachi's tone curls around like a blanket, and he pushes himself to standing before he can put too much stock in the other man's words, instead stretching his arms above his head and trying not to wince in the direct heat the sun provides.

He's halfway to turning to look at Itachi when a hand circles his wrist, tugging gently. They're face-to-face, Itachi standing far closer than Sai anticipated; it serves to make him blink owlishly, swallowing around the sudden tightening of his throat.

"You'll burn," Itachi says in a tone that brokers no argument, a small yellow bottle held in his free hand. Ah, so there's that mother hen that Shisui grouses about loudly and often; another insistent tug on his wrist has Sai stepping even closer, and his mind fizzles out immediately when Itachi puts his hands on him.

He flinches, unaccustomed to a touch that translates into tenderness. Not from anyone other than a scant few he can count on one hand, that is. Itachi murmurs a low apology, cracks wise about sunscreen somehow always being too cold even when applied in scorching heat. Sai barely hears it, mind utterly focused on Itachi's palms -rough from years wielding weapons and molding chakra, but touching him light enough to make him shiver- spreading the substance over his arms and shoulders, a look of concentration painted across his lovely features.

He turns when he's bid, eyes fluttering shut as Itachi works the lotion into his back. His fingertips hesitate on his hips, before digging in just a touch too hard to be considered effective for the task at hand. Sai wills his body not to react in the obvious way, making calculations in his head and imagining all sorts of terrible things that have nothing to do with strong, sure hands tracing his curves and angles.

One finger curls upon the monkey's paw when Itachi moves a step away, holding out the bottle in offering. Sai could weep for the loss of contact, but takes it with a hushed thank you and begins covering his face, neck, and chest. Focused utterly on the task and not the way Itachi's head is tilted on an angle, eyes dragging up and down his body; nor on the way he rubs the leftover lotion staining his hands on the sides of his neck.

He has elegant hands, Sai thinks. Suited to a musician as his are suited to a different variety of artistry. He nearly fumbles the fucking bottle as he loses himself to a momentary fantasy. A pretty boy smiles at him and he's a wreck. Maybe Sakura was on to something when she'd mentioned Sai might become a bit of a late bloomer due to his upbringing. He certainly feels like one of those school-aged teenagers with a crush, at any rate.

"Will you get my back?" Itachi pulls him from his rambling thoughts, tone somehow impish and teasing as readily as it is completely innocent and ordinary. Sai blinks once, and then twice, heads bobbing as he eagerly nods his assent in silence; opening his mouth at inopportune moments had ruined many a moment, and he reverts back to accustomed silence as to not make a bigger idiot of himself.

Itachi turns his back, sweeps his long hair over his shoulder, and waits. If Sai's hands tremble when he digs his palm in against the curve of his shoulder-blade and spine, Itachi doesn't say a word.

-----

Thorough humiliation further breeds opportunities for indignity, it seems. Once Sai had finished up, all but dropping the bottle onto the blanket, he'd looked anywhere but at Itachi. Arm across his chest and fingers curling around the opposite elbow, he'd been going for a picture of careful nonchalance as he'd waiting for Itachi to pull up his hair - into a messy bun at the back of his head with wisps dangling against the back of his neck, because he was a cruel and terrible sort of man. Itachi had turned, head tilted once more to the side, and offered that same small smile before stepping away and towards the water, Sai watching him go with a renewed flush. He'd done it on purpose, he was certain; to what end, he couldn't be sure.

They meander together in the shallows, Itachi with hands in his pockets and smiling down at the clear water coming up to his knees. Sai kneels down with abject fascination, glancing from flora to fauna with wide eyes. He'd never seen any of it in person, and felt a giddy smile unfurl as he reached a hand beneath the water to run the tip of a finger over the dancing seaweed.

Itachi had remarked something about being careful; Sai had only been half paying attention, despite all earlier implications to the contrary. His dark eyes flicked from the water to the sight of Itachi's legs standing far too close and back again, finding it difficult to focus on anything aside from the light gleaming off the water's surface. He watched his reflection and willed himself to think of something halfway clever to say, when he'd felt a hand curl around his bicep and yank him backwards.

What was that earlier assessment of indignity? Sai's eyes had gone wide and he'd instinctively reached for a weapon slung across his back that he knew wasn't there, on alert despite the momentary loss of balance from standing in the waves. Itachi pressed close to his side, Sai's head whipped to where he'd last seen Akari and Shisui -sitting in the shallows some yards down, kicking water and talking with heads pressed close- and found them utterly lost to their own little world. His mouth opened in warning, when the surface of the water where he'd just been kneeling surged away and rushed back together, hard enough he'd felt droplets splatter across his naked chest.

Sai blinked. Blinked again. Considered the now-soaked volleyball and the shouted apologies from somewhere on the beach. The burn of embarrassment was an old and trusted friend by now, and he's turned his face towards Itachi with a closed-eye smile and the barest hope that he wouldn't notice the red on his face wasn't from exposure to the sun.

Someone -probably Sakura, most assuredly accidentally- had slammed a ball too hard and he'd assumed Itachi had sensed mortal danger. If the ocean could rise and swallow him, any time would be delightful. (Although, he admitted to himself to save any scrap of pride, if it had been a blow from Sakura, even a small rock spelled mortal danger.)

"Thank you," Sai murmured, mouth still stuck in that self-deprecating smile.

A warm chuckle was his reward, in that dripping dulcet tone that did some odd things to the integrity of his knees. Itachi still hadn't removed the hand from his arm, a fact Sai wouldn't have been able to ignore had he tried; awareness sparked where skin met skin, and he swallowed down his embarrassment without moving a scant inch, too fearful Itachi would pull away.

"I'm more observant, usually," Sai explained with a shrug, clearing his throat to hide his chagrin.

"Distracted?" Itachi shot back, gesturing towards the water lapping at their legs. But his eyes spoke of a different meaning, punctuated with a squeeze of his fingers. He knew, he knew Sai knew, and for one brief and terrible moment Sai thought the ocean really would swallow him entirely because Itachi still hadn't stopped touching him, nor had he lost that soft and tender smile, reserved only for those he cared for.

"Well," Itachi continued after earning himself a strangled hum from beneath Sai's breath, "we cant be too careful." And with that, his hand slid down the smooth skin of Sai's arm to tangle their fingers together, tugging him gently towards deeper water with nary a backward glance.

Sai's knees did not dip, thank you very much. He was entirely composed and collected, mature, even. He wasn't distracted by the pound of his pulse nor the feeling of anothers hand in his, nor was he already mapping out more portraits to parse out to fill his sketchpad with likenesses of Uchiha Itachi.

When he looked up from their twined hands, he could see Akari watching them with an unrepentant stare, mouth curled into a far too satisfied and knowing grin as Shisui talked animatedly beside her, unawares of the loss of her attention. Sai blinked, turned his head away far too swiftly, and didn't pull his hand free.

#itasai #sai #uchiha itachi #naruto #naruto fanfic #jules writes #KISSES YOU GOOD i hope this fic is alright akdjhfhfkdf

[mytruthandbeauty]

14 October 2023

Life in Oaxaca de Juarez has been fairly uneventful so far, but I’ve only been here two weeks exactly. As time passes I’ll see how it changes or not, but that’s not what’s on my mind at the moment.

I may have written about this before, I’m not sure and I don’t know why it’s on my conscious mind now, but thankfully I’ve never been the victim of any sort of crime or any aggressive frightening behavior here or anywhere else in Latin America that I’ve been in my three years living here. This maybe partially due to how I live my life, keeping mostly to myself and not going out at night. Before I left the states my daughters were concerned for my safety, because I was traveling alone, I’m a transgender woman and I’m black. Mexico has a bad reputation in the states as being overrun with violent criminal drug dealing cartels that routinely kills or kidnaps foreigners and they thought I was committing suicide by coming here. I understood their concern, but I believed I would be safe and I’m a reasonable adult I had done some research so I took a chance. I was right they were wrong. Still I’ve heard of US Americans falling prey to scams and getting their wallets stolen or worse yet having their homes burglarized and sometimes being killed during the burglary. So I know that crime does exist and can happen to anyone. Still, I am grateful to say that so far I’ve been unscathed.

Just speculating, but I sometimes think that my good fortune has been because most people see me and they think I’m just another Hispanic, because I’m brown like them, I’m not very dark and I’m not pale either and the wigs I wear are made of straight hair. They probably think to themselves she doesn’t have much money so I shouldn’t waste my time and I don’t stand out as a tourist either, because I don’t dress like one and I often carry a shopping bag purchased from a local supermarket, which shows I didn’t just arrive either. I don’t have any expensive flashy jewelry and in fact most of it is kind of off putting with its silver spikes and skulls, unless you happen to like kinky sex. Some people can tell I’m a foreigner before I open my mouth, but no one tries to run any scams on me, except the one guy who tried to sell me a time share and all he got was a couple hours of my time, but that’s it. Then again it maybe that I’m pretty street savvy having lived in cities all my life and in pretty much all respects they are all the same except maybe the language spoken or the customs, which you can generally figure out how to negotiate if you take your time.

I met a person from the UK while in Puerto Vallarta who said they were transgender, but had not yet begun to transition, so presented as a male. This person was tall and very white, but quiet and nice. They dressed a bit shabby were 30ish and had a small dog. They told me that they often were confronted by Mexicans trying to sell them drugs which they refused and sometimes almost had altercations with guys about their dog. I told them I had never had any altercations about anything with anyone and only occasionally was I offered drugs. I think that white foreigners are treated differently then those who are non-white in my opinion. At any rate I believe people are people wherever you go and they typically want the same things and so don’t put yourself in any obviously sticky situations and you’ll more than likely be fine.

#transgenderfindsafetyandsecurityoutsideusa #transgendertravelabroad #[email protected]

[ijustwant2write]

Bold Moves-Halfdan The Black x Reader

(GIF credit to @charming-merlin​ I didn’t even mean to do that, it just seemed like the perfect GIF for your request)

MASTERLIST

Requested by @charming-merlin​: ‘Heyy, you were the first writer I requested something from and I just needed to do it again bc I love your writing and I still read the story from time to time. I would like to request Halfdan x f. reader that has secrets feelings for Halfdan but thinks she has no chance so she hangs out with another guy and Halfdan doesn't like it at all because he also has feelings for her and thinks the guy only wants to harm her. You can decide if it's true or not, but please some fluff (or more idk) in the end because I live for soft!Halfdan moments 🥺’

Characters: Halfdan the Black x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name 

Warnings: Mentions of rape, smut, violence, swearing, fluff

(A/N: That message was so sweet, I would love to know what you requested from me before! I hope you enjoy this one just as much)

                                           *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

“You won’t get anywhere by just staring.” my friend, Gertrude, pointed out.

She was right, I had been staring, staring at a man who would never be mine. How could he be? He he had his pick of ladies, though it seemed that he was the more strong, silent type. That didn’t stop women, much like myself, drooling over him. It was pathetic, and I could admit that. The rare times I had spoken to him were just mortifying; desperately trying to engage in small talk that could eventually lead to a proper conversation. It didn’t get that far, he only knew my name and how my day had been.So why was I still chasing him?

“I know.” I sighed.“I don’t know what it is, he just attracts me towards him.”

“He is a good looking man.”

“It’s not just that either. He’s mysterious. He’s interesting. But I need to stop this fantasy. It’s clearly never going to happen.”

“Do not be hard on yourself, (Y/N). I feel that Halfdan is a very reserved man, he is never seen dancing or laughing much at feasts.”

“No, but he does gaze after Astrid.”

Astrid, undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in our town, seemed to receive attention from Halfdan. It was a surprise, seeing as she was a very sociable person, very popular too, and somewhat over the top with how she acted. No one could deny she was sweet, but she didn’t seem Halfdan’s type.

Gertrude looped my arm with hers, dragging me towards the harbour.“We need to see who else is out there. I am yet to be married too.”

I giggled.“So we are seeking out husbands now?”

“Yes.” she beamed.“You have plenty of options. I’m not saying choose anyone today, just see who else is out there. It will probably take your mind off of your fantasies.” 

I rolled my eyes playfully as she urged us to walk faster. As usual, it was busy by the ships, trading was happening, and goods were being hauled off, ready for the market. We walked away from the crowds, though we could still keep an eye on everything and everyone. There were plenty of other men that were good suitors, I would have to be blind to not see some of the handsome men in town, and I knew many that had good hearts as well as being fierce warriors. Halfdan just seemed to have that edge to him, something that made me intrigued; maybe it was because he wasn’t as friendly or forward as the other men that had the effect on women, he wasn’t trying hard which made us want him to try more.

“You couldn’t wait another day to see the new furs, could you?” someone said beside me.

I turned my head to see a man carrying piles of fur skins in his hands. I had never met him before. He was a lot taller than me, with dark, brown hair that was scraped back into a plait which allowed you to see the features of his face better; he had lovely green eyes, a mixture of dark and light shades of green actually. He was stocky, his muscles probably came from lifting the boxes of goods everyday, as well as manning a ship.

He saw the confused look on my face.“I joke, I know you are not here to steal the latest fur.”

“Oh.” I smiled.“No, I find I am searching for the perfect necklace at the moment. Furs are at the back of my mind.”

“Well, I cannot help you there unfortunately.”

“And why is that so unfortunate?”

“Because that means this conversation is over.”

“And who says that?”

“By the gods you are both killing me.” Gertrude interrupted from behind me.“She shall see you in the market this afternoon. Perhaps you will both come up with better conversations and be better at flirting by then.”

Me and the man were both shocked by her forwardness, and I could hear him laughing as she dragged me away. I also began laughing, stumbling as she continued to have a grip on me. 

“Why would you do that? I was talking to him.” I complained.

“I’m keeping you mysterious. If you told him everything straight away, he wouldn’t have anything to chase after. And I meant what I said back there.”

I felt foolish waiting in the market place for a chance to see that man again. He had been forward and charming, but it didn’t mean I was instantly interested in him. Maybe I was holding back because of Halfdan, though I couldn’t let him stop me anymore, I had to take the risk. I tried to walk around the stalls already set up, Gertrude had all but left my side, also staying in the market though she refused to help in my efforts of wooing a man. Gods, was I really this bad at finding someone suitable for me?

“You weren’t making up wanting the necklace then?” a familiar voice said behind me.

Glancing behind me, I smiled when the man from the ship was there. I was doubting him seeing me again, or even wanting to. A bit of flirting sometimes didn’t get you anywhere. Now I had a chance to see who he really was. Surprisingly we dived straight back into a conversation, there were no pauses or awkward small talk, it was quite refreshing. My mind didn’t wander at all to Halfdan, and not because I suddenly thought this man was better, but because...because I was distracted. 

That made me feel awful for thinking that but I was. Of course I wasn’t going to fall for this man just because he showed interest in me (and because I was trying to forget about someone else), though it was nice to have the attention on me for once. It never happened. I wasn’t one of those beautiful maidens that drew the eyes of every man she waltzed by, men didn’t ask me to dance at feasts until they were stupidly drunk, I never experienced that look a man gave a woman when he was interested, even if it only was for one thing. I never understood why either.

I learnt the man’s name, Birger, and he insisted on walking me home, despite the market still heaving with customers. Our talk continued, it made the time pass so quickly that I was saddened when my house was already in view. He sweetly bid me farewell, and I admittedly felt my stomach flip as he smiled before walking away. Our visits continued with one another over the next few days, Gertrude wanting details about every word said. We thankfully strayed away from the market, talking walks away from the crowds and town, and one day he asked for me to join him in a hunt.

“I was apprehensive when you agreed to this.” Birger said as I approached him and our two horses, weapons attached to my body.

“And why is that?” I asked, not yet mounting my horse.

“I assumed you could protect yourself, though I seem to have doubted your experience.” he gestured to the weapons.“You have hunted before, I presume?”

I smiled.“Yes, I just haven’t had the chance to fight anyone. Not that I’m looking for trouble.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that.”

“No?”

“Because I’ll get rid of the trouble before it can even look at you.”

There it was again, that charming and heroic response. I let out a surprised gasp as he effortlessly lifted me onto my horse, a smirk on his face as he got on his own. I followed him, clouded by my thoughts.I did like Birger, but I felt guilty. I felt that I was using his company to keep my mind from Halfdan, I wanted to lie to myself and blame my confusion on nerves. However I knew that Birger was here to fill the void. I had a wild idea in my head that Halfdan would come after me. The Gods were all probably laughing at me right now.

We had journeyed into the nearby forest where everyone got food supplies. We were lucky that it was heaving with wildlife, enough for everyone. After dismounting our horses, we strayed from the travelling path, Birger was hoping to find a deer. Staying low and incredibly quiet, we didn’t have to wait as long as we thought we would, spotting a doe further ahead. With grins on our faces, we ducked down, I was already getting an arrow prepared.

“Take the shot, I want you to do it.” Birger whispered.

I nodded, slowly pulling back the string of the bow, though I almost let go in fright as Birger wrapped his arms around me. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, his face was now pressed against mine, hands covering my own, his body flushed against my back.

“A perfect shot.” he breathed into my ear, and if I wasn’t concentrating so much I would have let a shiver run through me.

A second passed before I let go of the string, the arrow whizzing through the air and hitting the doe. It cried out before collapsing, I had given her a swift death. Birger and I laughed in victory, I stood to retrieve our prize until I was pulled back down. I fell onto my backside, but I had no time to comprehend what was happening because Birger was leaning over me.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. But, (Y/N), you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I am a lucky man to have been graced with your presence, it was fate us meeting at the harbour. I...I wanted to be alone with you properly.” 

I could not deny the hot feeling I was feeling below, I had not slept with someone for some time. There it was again, that sudden realisation of using him. But men did this to women, was it such a crime that I do the same for some pleasure? As long as the pleasure was worth it at least, and not some swift, sweaty experience. 

I accepted what might come, closing my eyes and waiting for the feeling of his lips to press against mine, his hands were already gripping at my waist. Instead, there was a harsh tug that threw Birger’s body off of my own. I yelped out in confusion as I spotted another man wrestling with him. Springing to my feet, I leapt onto the bastard that was attacking us, only realising it was Halfdan as I bested him.

“Halfdan?” I exclaimed.

“Get yourself away (Y/N)! I can handle him.” he ordered as he stood, setting me on my feet in the process.

“Handle him?”

His head whipped round to look at me.“He was attacking you.”

“We were about to fuck.”

“What?”

Birger was grunting.“What do you think you’re doing?! Just because your brother claims to be a king does not mean you have the right to do what you want!”

“I’ve figured out what you’re doing. I know you are using this woman for your own benefit.”

“Even if I was, what does that have to do with you?”

“You were going to rape her?”

“What?!” Birger and I gasped at the same time.

“Halfdan,” I needed to have a calmer tone,“I wasn’t against it.”

“You weren’t in danger?”

“No, I was about to have sex for the first time in forever.”

“But, he looked like-”

“You are a crazy man.” Birger snapped.

“Birger.” I warned.“Not right now.”

“You are on his side?”

“No, I just think we all need to take a step back and talk about this.”

“What? Talk about how you were about to get fucked? And just that?”

“What?” 

“You talk as if I am some animal. It’s almost as if you’re siding with him.”

“Birger, you sound crazy.”

“The moment has passed.” he collected his things.“I am leaving. The moment has passed.”

“Birger, wait.”

“Was anything meaningful to you? Or were you just using me?”

“I wasn’t using you! I...I was-”

“Alright, I’ll let you have her. Seems like she’ll let anybody ‘use’ her.”

Halfdan’s nostrils flared, his lips in a tight line and brow furrowed as he stormed over to Birger, sending a punch to his face without warning. Birger stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. He took a second to steady himself, glaring at Halfdan as if he were about to attack back, only he didn’t, storming away in the other direction. 

Halfdan cleared his throat.“(Y/N), I-”

“What did you think you would achieve from this?” 

“I thought he was about to rape you, I thought he had lured you out here, he had confused you-”

“And I am easily confused?” I didn’t know where this confidence came from.

“No! You women, you are so sensitive.”

I only had to open my mouth in shock for him to start panicking.

“I’m sorry. For that comment and for what I have done.” he huffed.“I shall take my leave.”

“Halfdan.” I called out, making him halt.“How did you know we were here? Did you follow us?”

“I...I just happened to be here.”

“Really?”

“Fine. If you wish to know so badly, I have been following you. And not just today I embarrassingly admit.”

“What do you mean?”

“For some reason, I never trust men around you. I have this...protectiveness over you. And I understand that is strange to say, seeing as we have only spoken a few times, but, you have this hold on me. The first time we spoke to one another, I lost all my ability to seduce a woman. I could have had you that night if I wanted, and I did want you, but somehow you overpowered me by just smiling.”

I was not expecting that confession. This was the most I had heard him speak, ever.“I really don’t know what to say to that.”

“Forget it. This day could not get more mortifying.”

“Wait, Halfdan, you can’t just leave it at that. Not when I feel the same.”

“You do?”

“Have you not seen my lingering stares? I always have to catch myself to make sure I do not scare you away. I always thought you a cold, silent man that only had interest in...well, I was about to say whores but I suppose I seem like one today.”

“You really had no feelings for that man?”

I shook my head.“No. I thought I did, but I think I was trying to convince myself as to not feel guilty. But I cannot let this go lightly Halfdan. I thank you for your bravery and looking out for me, though I fear we have tarnished Birger’s pride.”

“I could give two shits about what that man thinks.”

I smiled.“That is understandable.”

“Should I be sorry?”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

I picked up my bow and arrow, heading back to the horses.“I guess so. But it will take more than words.”

“What will it take?”

“You said so yourself, you have a way with women, surprise me.”

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