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denimbex1986 · 9 months

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'Two weeks ago, on a Sunday, I literally ran out of my six-hour Patient Care Technician shift to watch "Oppenheimer," Christopher Nolan's biopic starring Cilian Murphy as the Manhattan Project scientist, J. Robert Oppenheimer. In ninth grade, I had the opportunity to interview Dr. Benjamin Bederson, who was a bomb switch operator for the Manhattan project, so the inner high school history nerd in me was ready to be enthralled by the movie of the summer.

However, the iconic and controversial "Gita" sex scene where grad student Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) descends on Oppenheimer had me literally running out of the room faster than I ran out of my job to watch it in the first place. In this scene, the two sleep together for the first time following a communist party gathering. Midway through intercourse, Jean picks up a bound copy of the Hindu scripture "Bhagavad Gita" from Oppenheimer's bookshelf, and asks him to read from it – where we get the foreboding quote, "Now I become death, the destroyer of worlds" – before proceeding with the act as he continues to read. Although the film has received rave reviews, this scene has garnered immense criticism from Hindu nationalist group, Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), for its insertion of religious scripture into sexual intercourse.

Disclaimer: I started squirming in my seat during the scene and spent a good 10 minutes afterwards in the bathroom stall, calming myself down. Then I bought a blue Icee and ran back in to watch the rest.

The scene, although uncomfortable, was mind-opening. All of a sudden my present started to articulate my past forward as I was transported out of the movie theater and into my eighth grade health classroom. Today's topic: the forms of sex. All three forms – as my teacher called it. As someone who didn't even know that sex existed until that moment, I immediately started twisting in my chair and had to leave the room as the teacher's descriptions got more and more detailed. My mind could not handle the fact that two people could crave touching each other's private parts out of choice or out of adoration. But several of my classmates were unfazed. And several of them laughed at my reaction for weeks.

At that point, I knew I had to change. I had to take initiative to learn what my parents had always avoided discussing with me. So, I started reading "Game of Thrones" and its fanfiction to educate myself. And lots of it. By the time I had finished high school and college, I had read so much of it that I thought I had numbed my mind to sexual thought and literary depiction. But that "Oppenheimer" Gita sex scene told me differently.

When I saw it on screen, I still could not handle it.

Growing up in a conservative Indian American household in the midwestern United States, I never heard from my parents discussions about certain bodily actions seen as "obscene" or taboo and why society perceived them in that way. I'd never seen them even kiss each other in front of my sister and me. I never had a person who could talk candidly with me about embarrassing or scary changes in my body and make them no longer seem so mysterious and foreign. After that revelatory eighth grade sexual health education class, there were questions that I was dying to ask but knew it was not OK to ask my mom or dad. To them, there was no comedy nor beauty in discussing sex and sexuality, especially when they were starting from scratch with someone like me, who was on the brink of puberty but still had many gaps in her knowledge. I wondered why my parents always shied away from this topic – even when it is something so deeply human and important.

"You don't have to know these things. The more you know about it, the more you will want to jump in earlier," my mom would say. "I don't know why they teach these things to kids so early in this country."

Two years later, in 10th grade world history class, I was a raging "Game of Thrones" fan who had read almost every Sansa/Tyrion fanfic on the internet (including the rated M for mature ones). We were learning about ancient India, and my favorite teacher of all time told us something that shocked me more than the Oppenheimer scene: that early Indian civilization was a pioneer in and center of sexual desire.

Across the whiteboard he had written in all caps these words: KAMA SUTRA.

"Do you know what this is," he yelled across the room to the whole class. "Anyone? How about you, Sibani?"

I was the only Indian American student in my high school class. I honestly and vigorously shook my head. I worshiped this man on many levels, but I sincerely did not know the answer to his question. I was also embarrassed that I didn't know about this supposedly very important text from my own culture.

"This is a book . . . about sex," he continued. "All the different positions and the ways to enjoy them. And it originated in INDIA."

I felt my face flush. My parents had ensured that I watch re-enacted versions of the Indian epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana on our tiny TV screen in my small Iowan midwestern town. My late grandmother had ensured that I learned how to speak my native language TamiI, and my parents pushed me to retain that. They put me through Carnatic singing lessons over the phone to help me better connect with my heritage and culture. Yet, they had conveniently chosen not to mention this uncomfortable but fascinating truth about the book of sex originating in India.

That day, I went home and scoured the internet. And what my genius of a world history teacher had told me was beyond true. It turned out that I did not have to even turn to the internet, but rather had to dig back into my own memories of visiting temples across South India during my summers and sometimes seeing their walls adorned with near-naked female idols. When visiting, I remember being a bit surprised that these sculptures were not taken down by the conservative Indian communities that surrounded them. However, history reveals that the communities that initially surrounded the sculptures may have been ones where sex and spirituality were united, not untied.

For example, the seven-foot-tall Sathyamurthi Perumal Temple in my motherland of Tamil Nadu, India features detailed and sacred architecture depicting intercourse. In fact, these structures are protected by the Archeological Survey of India. This is not a standalone example. The juxtaposition of sexuality and sanctity can be seen in Hindu temples ranging from the Sun Temple in Gujarat to the Jain temples of Rajasthan to the Virupaksha temple in Karnataka – all located in India.

Early India's fascination with sex is not limited to architecture but also spills over into literature beyond the "Kama Sutra." While the major Hindu epics "Mahabharata" and "Ramayana" are certainly not as pornographic as "Game of Thrones," these ancient religious epics are far from devoid of the depictions of sexual pleasure. The pages contain stories of great sages committed to abstinence, who could resist everything but the temptations of sex. Draupadi, a pivotal character in "Mahabharata" and powerful example of polyandry, simultaneously keeps and sleeps with five husbands. Hindu scripture is not devoid of sexual exposure. In fact, the "Gita "that Oppenheimer invests his mind in is derived from a scene in the "Mahabharata."

When my mom sent me an article on the Hindu nationalists' criticism of the questionable sex scene in "Oppenheimer," I immediately defended the Western approach to sex.

"The difference between the Western world and the Indian one is that the Western one can own up to human temptations and sins, versus in India, we like to hide from what makes us human anyway. Just remember that India – not USA – was the earliest erotic place in the world where a so-called 'book' originated. Read beyond headlines," I wrote in response.

However, I now realize that my scathing response – while it is not fully false – lacks sensitivity. The "Gita" is a sacred text. While it does encourage sex for procreation, it discourages sex for pleasure. I do not agree with that principle in the "Gita" (isn't sex called making love for a reason?), but I do think Nolan crossed the line a bit. Just a bit. But only a bit.

Even if the scene made me very uncomfortable, walking through Hindu temples trying to recite prayers and seeing naked copulation sculptures has also made me very uncomfortable. So, when the Hindu nationalist BJP calls the scene a "disturbing attack on Hinduism" that "wages a war on the Hindu community," that is not at all accurate either. The earliest Hindus saw sex as a soul of their religion and culture. Maybe that is not how things are today, but as a Hindu woman myself, history and religion calls upon me to pursue the truth. The truth is that sex was a characteristic of early Hindu civilizations in a way that was arguably more explicit than any scene in "Oppenheimer." The truth is that my parents and several of my Indian American friends' parents unfortunately often avoid this reality. The truth is that Nolan saw the raw sexual stuff of life as text to be read, art to be created and conversation to be generated. If anything, this scene pays tribute to the reality that several sacred Hindu spaces – even if this excludes the "Bhagavad Gita" itself – do indeed sing of the sexual.

To all Hindus in this world – including the BJP – let's not be angry and offended. We've not earned the right to be given the past. Instead, let's invite a responsible dialogue about what history can teach us about our own religion. And then, we can talk about how we would like for that religion to be accurately represented.'

#Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #Bhagavad Gita #Jean Tatlock #Florence Pugh #Cillian Murphy #Game of Thrones

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liu-lang · 2 years

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i finally submitted my final paper for first language acquisition. above is the number of meetings we had - my other roommate who is a 4th year PhD student said this is excessive for a 1 semester class final paper. Reading week started on May 18 but all my plans to work on other final projects were bulldozed by my project partner for our FLA paper. even though i set the meetings for 30 min to 1 hour - there were times where we met for 4 hours straight or had 2 meetings in the same day (one in the morning and one at night..........even though i gently (perhaps too much so) reminded her....i have work) i've lost so much sleep and so much weight the past month - getting sleep has been crucial to handle the side effects of the medication i've been taking so i've felt really unwell and fatigued.

working with her and the level of detail and time she's devoted to this paper makes me feel like maybe i'm a terrible grad student ? .... i simply do not care this much. should i be caring this much ? she's incredibly smart and a way better syntactician than i am so it's really hard for me not to feel anything but inadequate when working with her. but then seeing the way she works stressed me out so much - that although the final paper is extremely thorough and well-researched i do not think the amount of suffering i went through was worth it. so many of the things she was concerned about, i don't even think our prof would have thought of.

as a reminder to myself to establish boundaries way sooner and never partner up with this person again, here are things that i had to handle during these zoom meetings

the professor emailed feedback and when she read the feedback she cried on camera multiple times

she was too afraid to use cloud-based Word so I had to deal with emailing drafts back and forth as attachments

once I convinced her to use cloud-based Word (the multiple versions got too much for me to handle and differentiate) this is when the hours long meetings ramped up bc she wanted us to sit together in the Word doc writing at the same time

any time she didn't see me in the Word doc she would point that out or if i didn't make eye contact with her on zoom (we always had to have camera and mic on) she'd ask what i'm doing/looking at

she made sure track changes was on (which is fine, track changes can be helpful for group projects - i used it all the time working on board reports for my public transit job) but if she saw me correct one of her typos she would....erase my correction and correct it herself... even if my correction and her correction was exactly the same ??

if she made any changes she would immediately text me or email me asking me to look over her work/comments and provide feedback by a set time - even when i tried to be nice about it and said 'i'm fine with the way things are worded' instead of exploding at her to f*ck off already bc i can't devote 8 hours a day to nitpick this paper apart, she would still refuse to move forward with anything until i gave explicit consent that her work was good

after our meetings in the evening, she would then say that we need to look over it 'one more time' - even though it was already like 02h00 at this point... and she would tell me she’d continue to stay up and wait for feedback - I felt guilty many times knowing that she for some reason refused to go to sleep after the meeting while I would promptly close my laptop, take my meds wayyyy later than the prescribed time (side effects were they made me sleepy immediately after I took them) and then suffer tremendously the next morning bc taking the meds later than prescribed made it extremely difficult to wake up for work on time or stay awake throughout the day

once i told her i had to go to work but instead of understanding that i literally don't have time to meet about this anymore today she asked when i was gonna get home from work and sent a zoom invite like one minute after the time i told her i'd be home by (she's a fully funded 1st year PhD student straight out of undergrad and i assume has never had to work any sort of job outside of academia)

if i showed her any python code she would be scared (having to write the methods part was excruciating bc she has no programming experience but was also very controlling about my wording yet she almost always could not understand how something as simple as like methods or functions worked yet she wouldn't allow me to use "too technical language")

i had to forward her the submission confirmation email from Blackboard so she knew for sure we submitted the exact same version

she asked me if some of the paragraphs were too square and i was like... sorry what does this mean ?? and apparently she was concerned that the width and the height of the paragraphs were too similar/almost equal that they looked too square

#personal #nyc move #grad school

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modernmanblues · 1 year

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Ok I normally don’t share stuff like this on here but I’m sorry I just need to vent. Today I was invited to a family friend’s holiday gathering (it’s Memorial Day weekend here in the states). Fine with me- I’ve known and adored these people for a long time so I agreed to pop in for a bit since I hadn’t seen them in a while. My mum received this said invitation over the phone and her friend briefly mentioned how my ex bf popped in for a bit to drop off some drinks. This made my anxiety go up bc he’s literally the last person I wanna see at this point in time- he makes my blood boil. As soon as my mum got off the phone I told her to call her friend back to ask and make sure he wasn’t there anymore or I wasn’t going to be making an appearance. Her friend confirmed he wasn’t there so my mum and I went and had a great time catching up with folks..for about an hour..

AND THEN MY WORST FUCKING NIGHTMARE HAPPENED. Out of nowhere, dumbass decided to make a cameo appearance (the ghost of Christmas past, oh what joy). Anyways, there he was, dressed like Glenn Frey Miami Vice style on his Harley Davidson thinking it was gonna have any effect on me (sorry dude it didn’t). I WAS FUCKING LIVID. And the worst part, dumbass decided to show up, made brief eye contact with me, spoke with someone else at the party and didn’t have the common courtesy to say a single word to me. 5 FUCKING YEARS WITH THIS IDIOT AND HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO DO THIS. UNFUCKINGREAL. It took every ounce of me not to go up to him and give him a piece of my mind. Yes, as a matter of fact I do have self control. Everyone looked at me and asked if I was ok knowing he was there. Deep down I wasn’t..but I took some deep breaths and tried to make small talk as a distraction. It worked..for a little bit, but it continued to bother me and tbh I am STILL bothered by it.

This is why I am SO happy to be leaving this damn town and this godforsaken state, even, and to be moving to the place of my dreams (oh California pls be good to me- my soon to be home, pls be good to me). For what it’s worth, I love you NY but it’s time for me to move on. The only reason why I’ve continued to live here was to finish grad school and bc of family and some friends from high school that I still hang with from time to time. Other than that, I am now fully prepared to divorce NY.

My only message to this individual: grow the fuck up. I refuse to be with a man who acts like a child and doesn’t know what kind of future he has in mind for me. For us. I’d rather stay single than be with someone who can’t progress with me in life. A man without ambition, that’s the last thing I want in my life right now.

This court is now adjourned.

#personal #liz stewart rambles #he’s a manchild sorry to say it #the nerve of some people

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sunshineandaisies · 3 years

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What’s in the Box, Peter?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Words: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between!

Ever since you started dating Peter during your freshman year of college, you always spent Mother’s Day with him and May.

Of course, you always had the customary FaceTime call with your own mother but with the prices of plane tickets constantly increasing, going home to spend the day with your family just wasn’t possible when all your money went towards rent and school expenses.

So spending the day with Peter and May became tradition, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

May Parker had practically inducted you into the family after only a few months of dating her nephew, and she was the very definition of what you thought motherhood was all about. She was understanding whenever Peter found himself in trouble - whether it be as Peter Parker or his masked superhero alter ego - and she was always willing to lend an ear whenever you or Peter needed to rant about something (even if it was about each other). She worried about Peter - of course she did - but she let him have his space to make his own mistakes and learn from them.

She may not have been Peter’s actual mother, but damn did that woman deserve the best Mother’s Day that you and Peter could muster.

You’d stayed at May’s apartment the night before rather than at yours and Peter’s apartment on the other side of the city to save yourself the commute in the morning, and you were infinitely glad that you’d done so. An extra hour of sleep was definitely worth you and Peter squeezing into the small bed in his old bedroom.

Peter still woke up early, though.

He always did, unable to really sleep in the days leading up to Mother’s Day. He grew restless and quiet, and you didn’t need to ask to know why.

He pressed his lips to your cheek before he left for his visit to his mother’s grave that morning, his jacket tugged on to protect himself from the early morning chill and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He whispered a promise of coffee when he returned, and your appreciation for him doubled in an instant.

By the time he returned, you were busy making pancakes and humming along to the song on the radio while May tittered around the kitchen despite your insistence that she let you take care of making breakfast.

It was her day, after all.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted, pressing a styrofoam cup into your hand. He pressed his lips to your temple before greeting May with a hug and wishing her a happy Mother’s Day. He set a small, wrapped box down on the counter, making you cock your head in curiosity.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the box in question with the spatula. You were sure that you had already gotten May a Mother’s Day gift. In fact, you had wrapped her gift yourself the night before. Had you forgotten something?

“Just a Mother’s Day gift,” he replied vaguely, a smile curling his lips. “You’ll see after breakfast.”

Your gaze kept flitting back to that mysterious little box as you finished stacking pancakes onto a large plate, as you filled three glasses of juice and set the table, and as you and Peter caught May up on all of things that you had accomplished over the course of the last semester. You were just barely managing to contain your curiosity enough to actively keep up the conversation and not be rude, and Peter wasn’t helping any.

The way that he seemed extra fidgety and the way that his gaze kept flitting to you more than usual while he talked to May about his plans once you were both finally done with grad school had you wondering if you did something wrong or even worse- if he was planning something that you didn’t know about.

Oh, God. Was he going to propose?

Outwardly, you were smiling brightly and nodding in agreement to what Peter was saying about your plans for the summer, but inwardly, you were panicking.

You loved Peter, you really did, and you’d be happy to marry him. Just not now. You’d had the discussion about marriage over a year ago, knowing that you both wanted it at some point, but you and he had both agreed that marriage was off the table until you were both done with school. You both had at least one year of grad school left, and that was only if you - ever the academic - decided to not continue your education with further certification. A proposal was at least a year away, so long as Peter adhered to the agreement you had made nearly two years ago.

You cleared the table with lightning speed once everyone had finished with their breakfast, wanting nothing more than to know what Peter was hiding. You retrieved May’s gift from Peter’s bedroom and placed it in front of her while Peter held onto the small mystery box, his fingers flexing and unflexing nervously.

Jesus Christ, you were about to implode from impatience and anxiety and-

“This is so cute!” May exclaimed, holding up the small succulent in a pot shaped like a dinosaur. “Did you find this at that shop on 47th?”

“I think so?” Peter looked to you for confirmation, but you only shrugged in response. “Y/N picked out most of the stuff in there. She has a better eye for things than I do.”

“Peter did pick out the wine, though,” you pointed out, nodding towards the fancy bottle of white wine that had cost more than your electrical bill last month. “I will, however, take credit for the plant and the memory foam slippers.”

You shared a small smile with Peter as May looked over her gifts happily. “This is so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned across the table and pulled your both into as tight a hug as she could manage with a table in the way.

“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” Peter told her, and the few happy tears she swiftly brushed away with her thumbs didn’t escape your attention.

“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” you repeated, feeling so incredibly grateful to have May in your life. “You literally deserve the best Mother’s Day for putting up with this guy for most of his life.” You gently nudged Peter in the side with your elbow as you teased, chuckling as he rolled his eyes at you while struggling to fight back an amused smile.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, and it only made you and May laugh harder. “You both love me.”

And suddenly your laughter died as your attention was dragged back to that mysterious little box, now pushed in front of you by Peter. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you,” he answered as if it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.

“I get that, but why?” You observed the small gift nervously. “It’s Mother’s Day, Pete, and I’m very much not a mother. Not unless you count being a plant mother. You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“What?” His face twisted in confusion, brows knit together and lips slightly parted. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”

What the hell? Your brows knit together as you looked from Peter to May, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Know what? I think I would know if I was a mom, Peter.” You let out a breath and started to pull at the wrapping paper. “I mean, thank you for the gift, but this was really unneces-” Your words died on the tip of your tongue as you saw what was tucked neatly into the small box.

You lifted the mug from the box, staring at the words written across the front in pretty pink script.

‘Happy (Expectant) Mother’s Day’

You blinked, too confused to speak.

“I thought you said she knew,” you heard May whisper to Peter.

“I thought she did!” your boyfriend whispered in return. “I thought she was waiting for today to tell me!”

You finally snapped out of your trance, placing the mug down on the table and turning to Peter. “Can you please explain what’s happening?”

After a beat of silence, he answered, “You’re pregnant.”

You snorted in disbelief. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant, Peter.” You took a second to mentally count the days, and your heart began to beat erratically once you realized you had been so busy with final papers and projects to remember when your last period had been. Well, shit.

“You are,” he said confidently. He draped an arm around the back of your chair before taking your hand in his. “Some nights, when it’s really quiet, I can hear the baby’s heartbeat. Scared the hell out of me when I first heard it.” Instinctively, your hands dropped to your stomach, cradling it tenderly. Leave it to your boyfriend to find out you were pregnant before you did thanks to his hyper-senses. “I thought you knew and you were planning to tell me today, you know, because it’s Mother’s Day.” He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously, his gaze flitting to May before he met your eyes again. “I, uh, realize now that you didn’t know.”

“We’re gonna have a baby?” He nodded, lips curling into a smile. “I’m gonna be a mom?” Another nod. “I thought you were gonna propose! I was so nervous!”

“I mean, I can still do that if you want,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate eyes.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I think one big life change is enough for today.”

You shared a soft, sweet kiss with Peter before turning your attention back to the mug on the table. Your fingers curled around it, holding it gently in your hands as you stared at the words again and a smile tugged at your lips.

A gentle hand on yours called your attention away from the mug and to May. The older woman was smiling widely at you and her nephew, i she’d tears glittering in her eyes. “Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N.”

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outercrasis · 3 years

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Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them.

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?”

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself.

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts.

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar.

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep.

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing.

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like.

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu.

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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eruhatesu · 3 years

Text

CALL ME

Erwin Smith x fem reader (modern au - oneshot)

content warning: nsfw, masturbation, teasing (if you squint)

word count: 1.2k

AN: this is my first time writing. Not much action bc I'm still testing waters but we'll see hahaha. One shot. But if I get possessed again, I might make this a two shot. Banner drawn by me (click for crispier quality lol). Send me an ask for nsfw art reqs.

A week break. After a full year not seeing your family, you finally had a chance to go home to your hometown for 5 days. It’s the first time you’ll be away from your boyfriend Erwin Smith, a post-grad student studying further on History and Literature. You met him on a coffee shop you both get your daily morning coffee needs. He approached you first after 3 weeks of him seeing you almost everyday buying coffee nonchalantly, you stood out in the small crowd, unconsciously drawing him in on how you just didn’t care about everything else in the world.

One of the days you both had a non-toxic morning, he introduced himself with confidence thinking you might let him in your little non-eventful world. Of course you did. This man has caught your attention long before you caught his, you just didn’t bother giving much thought on any possibility because it felt really impossible to you having him for yourself. But since your first conversation with him, you knew he was the kind of person that does not require constant assurance to be in a relationship with. It’ll be fine, you thought to yourself. You don’t need much maintenance as well since you focus on getting your degree too.

It’s the third day on your trip home and a full day has passed without having any message from Erwin. You were sitting at a family dinner at home and you just took your last bite as you sip a bit of wine that pairs well with the meal you just had. You were having a good time listening to stories and light laughter your family was having but your mind suddenly trails off on reasons why you received not a single text from him. Knowing how busy he was on his papers, you thought to yourself you should be more mature and considerate. He might be a few years your senior but you both had been in good terms for months in your relationship just by having little updates about each other whenever you’re not together since for you and Erwin, physical touches and personal conversations weigh more than anything. So why are you feeling uneasy and very eager to know what he’s doing? You know he won’t text you constantly either if you’re just around the campus or miles away. You actually questioned yourself why were you longing if you completely know how distant as a person he is from the start.

Checking the clock it was 9:32. You stared at the black of your phone as it rests on your lap hidden from everyone, hoping it will light up since you figured he might be finally back on his apartment after a long day with his team. Few more sips and your phone buzzed:

9:41 Erwin.

You busy?

Finally you let out a silent sigh on your chest. You noted the lack of punctuation and a sentence not properly formed. He never did shortcuts even in an emergency.

You paused for a second not knowing what to reply since you’re actually in the middle of something. Before you can grip your phone to reply it lit up again.

9:42 Erwin.

I’ll call.

You reminded yourself, this is not like him. He does not call at all unless it’s very important. For the past days, all you guys did was texted one another and for you, it really was enough. Not a second after, your phone buzzed silently.

Calling: Erwin.

You panicked and stared for a second but considering the way he texted, you slide to answer the call right away. Hiding your phone on your side, you excused your self from the table

“Excuse me, my professor’s calling.” You thought to yourself what an ugly lie. Why would a professor call at night during a break.

You walked fast to the bathroom and calmly locked the door behind you.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just want to talk.”

“Huh- that’s new.”

You sensed with his tone, he had a lot of stress today. Maybe they had a few bad news with their paper.

“I meant, I just want you to talk.”

You noticed he’s talking roughly. Like he was running while on the call.

“What do you mean?”

No actual response. You just hear him breathing loudly. Panting. You got worried.

“Erwin, what the fuck’s going on?”

He still continues to pant.

“Erwin?”

He moans sharply.

It now struck your brain what he was really doing.

“That’s right, babe keep calling me.”

Relieving himself was actually the last thing you thought he’d be doing once you’re away since you knew this man for almost a year now and you know very well how he can control himself on all matters.

You audibly scoffed on your realization. Smile drew to your face and you can’t believe that his heat reaches your cheeks through the thought that someone like you can do this to a man like him.

“Erwin, don’t tell me you’re actually doing what I think you’re doing.”

He grunted without actually understanding what you’re saying.

“Hm- just keep talking. You’re doing good.” Words were rolling as he continues to pant and moan as you stayed on the other line silently grinning to yourself thinking of what he looks like on his couch helpless without you doing what he’s doing for him. You hear him breathe roughly as he fucks his hand with the thought of you. You felt powerful considering how this man who towers next to you when you’re together, literally calling for you just to feel like you’re there with him.

You leaned back to the sink as you listen. You were feeling heat on your stomach as well wishing you were the one making him have these heavenly sounds you’re hearing.

“Y/N…”

“Yes, babe?”

“Please…”

“Fine. I just thought you’re doing fine yourself back there”

“Y/N fuck I miss you. Keep talking”

You chuckled in response.

“I didn’t know you’ll miss me this much. I’ll be back soon.”

You closed your eyes trying to focus on how you’re picturing him again on his couch, probably still in his shirt, few top buttons unbuttoned paired with slacks, sitting lazily, head thrown back as he listens to you. Just as you were starting to reach below to relieve the heat that you were starting to feel for yourself, he grunted sharply for the last time then the call dropped from the other line.

You stared at your phone as it goes back to your homescreen. “What the-“ you whispered to your self. Stopping yourself from crushing your phone with your tightening knuckles, you breathed out and propped yourself up to fix your dress. You noticed your eyebrows still slightly woven from the fact that you were almost there with him as you fix a strand of hair in front of the mirror.

As you go out of the bathroom clicking the door close slowly, your phone buzzed again.

Calling: Erwin.

You swiped to answer. Puzzled, you thought he was done with his business with you for the night.

“I’ll come pick you up.” He said without asking if you’ll agree.

You just breathed out as a response. You were thinking if you should cut your break short but you both wouldn’t want that.

“Stay with me for a while?” It sounded more like an order than a question.

“Erwin, this is 3 hours away.”

“I’ll be there in 2.”

The call dropped again. Headlights did appear in your street in two.

#Erwin Smith #erwin smith x reader #eru writes #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #aot imagines #aot fics #erwin smith x fem reader

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believeitseeitdoit · 3 years

Text

A Defiled Uniform

Steve x reader x Bucky , Steve Rogers x reader , Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: the boys find a particular garment in your stuff, and set out to fulfill an old fantasy in the bedroom

Rating: 18+, don’t touch this if you are under age please, and sweet Jesus wrap it up folks,

Warnings: CW brief discussion of religion and old style school punishments, SMUT, 3 some, if it isn’t your style, don’t read (I’ll be less offended if you ignore it than if you read it and get cranky), blowjobs, spanking, man on man kissing, dirty talk, language, teacher kink … let me clarify the reader is 100% of age and consenting to the scene!!!

The boys are helping you pack up your apartment so you can move to the compound up North with them. Natasha is helping you wrap dishes in the kitchen while Steve and Bucky tuck your clothes into suitcases from your closet. Classic rock plays throughout, windows open letting fresh air flow, and you can hear Sam bickering with the spiderling about what order to pack your furniture into the moving truck. Nat hands you another champagne flute from the top rack when you hear Bucky call your name.

“Y/N! When did you get all these shirts?! You literally wear 3! And since when do you wear so many shoes???” He yells from the closet, tossing your stuff at Steve, who patiently chuckles and sets them down in his organized fashion.

“It’s called variety, Buck, you’re not a woman on undercover missions. I need options!” You chirp back at him and set the wrapped plate into the box.

Bucky continues to mutter over your items and sighs happily when he can finally see the other side wall of the closet. Only 2 hangers left to go, he thinks gratefully. He grads an aged, faded green hoodie with your university logo and puts it to his nose so he can soak up your scent on it. Your choice fabric softener and hints of your favorite perfume, Black Opium, waft through and he thinks fondly of how much he loves those scents. Tossing the top to his best man, Bucky grabs at the last hanger. Huh, never seen this skirt before, he thinks while holding it up to the light.

“Hey Stevie, have you ever seen her wear this? Looks awful small for mission gear.” Bucky aims the skirt at Steve, giving it a gentle shake for dramatic effect.

“No, Buck, can’t say I have. You know what it reminds me of though? Those uniforms they used to wear at the all girls school across the road from the park back in Brooklyn.” Steve looks from the clothing to his boyfriend suggestively.

“Oh yeah! Those nuns sure kept the girls in line, remember the stories Dot and Molly would tell us about the rulers and paddles? Shit today that’s corporal punishment!” Bucky pulls the skirt off the hanger and folds it, placing the garment in your overnight bag rather than the suitcase.

“You gonna do something with that?” Steve nods to the new addition to your bag.

“Just gonna ask a question later is all Stevie.” Bucky winks at his partner and smiles.

Later that evening, the apartment is signed away and no longer your monster to manage, and the three of you are celebrating the next step in your relationship and life with your men. Lounging on the couch between them, your back against Steve and your legs curled up on top of Bucky’s, sipping a whiskey coke. Steve reaches to your chin and tips it up to place a chaste kiss on your lips, while Bucky rubs up and down your calves softly. You return his peck by sliding your tongue across his teeth, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. As he obliges, he lets his hands drift around your waist to rub your breasts and knead at the full flesh.

In your lustful haze, you hear Bucky speak up. “So where in hell did a good Catholic student learn how to kiss like that? I’m pretty sure they didn’t teach you how to moan like that in school princess.” His eyes are dark with desire and he rests his hands on your knees, locking them in place. You turn your eyes away from one man to the other, bewildered and slightly warm.

“What do you mean Bucky?” You ask with genuine uncertainty. Regardless of the commentary, your arousal grows with the ministrations from both your lovers.

“Well see doll, we did a little research today while you were unpacking. Shield likes to keep full files, and boy was it satisfying to learn that our sweet girl was an innocent little catholic school student. Went to church twice a week and everything.”

Steve whispers in your ear while rubbing a nipple between his fingers.

“And what better detail to find than your old uniform hanging in the closet. Blue is really our favorite color princess.” Bucky adds while snaking his vibranium hand up the inside of your thigh. He ghosts a finger across the seam of your panties, and gives them a quick snapping tug.

You turn to hide your head in the couch cushions, an attempt to cover the blush spreading across your cheeks. They weren’t supposed to find it! How could you slip up with that , as a SHIELD agent??! That fantasy was to remain deeply hidden.

“Don’t hide princess, we want to see that face when Steve tells you what happens next.” Bucky continues working your mound with his metal arm while he previews the future of the evening.

“Now sweet girl, you are going to go upstairs and open your overnight bag. You are to strip out of these clothes, put on the items in there, NOTHING else. Understand me?” Steve’s voice drops an octave as his mind shifts toward his dominant state.

“When you’re ready, I want you to sit at the desk, ready for the bell to ring.” Bucky adds his request as you nodded toward the blonde.

You swing your legs off the couch, palms sweaty with the anticipation of fulfilling the fantasy of defilling such a symbol of purity and innocence. As you turn away from your boyfriends and head to complete your task, each man takes a palm to your ass and smiles. You yelp, and scurry to the bedroom to find your drag bag placed at the foot of the bed. With shaking hands you peel the zipper apart to pull out your wardrobe. A white button down blouse, white ankle socks, the soon to be defamed plaid skirt, and the most ridiculously padded fire engine red bra you’d ever seen. With a chuckle, you peel off one layer of clothes and begin re dressing with the second. Not knowing how much time you have until the “class” begins, you hastily throw your hair into a ponytail and slap a little lip stain on before sliding into the large desk chair and crossing your ankles.

Moments later, you hear heavy boots scuff the floor and the stairs creak under the weight of two super soldiers. Your thoughts drift to dirty places and you imagine seeing bucky’s vibranium hand slide under the skirt while Steve massages your flushed and heavy tits through the top half of your given uniform. A shrill school bell pierces your thoughts and a heavy thud from the door forces your eyes up.

“Now who do we have here? Looks like Miss Y/L/N was sent in for a dress code violation. Mr. Rogers, would you please identify the specifics on why you have sent this young lady to my office?” Bucky looks you up and down as if he were stalking his prey.

Steve looks over his reading glasses and gives you a once over. “Well Mr. Barnes, this young lady clearly has no respect for the rules. I guarantee that skirt is far too short, bet you can see her backside if she stands up.” He begins to circle you as well, and pulls at your blouse. “This shirt is practically transparent, I’d say that’s a bra redder than a sunburn on the Fourth of July.” He grabs a strap and allows it to snap sharply back against your shoulder.

Bucky reaches out to you, asking for your hand. “Now young lady, I am a pretty lenient man, but disrespecting the code of conduct is an inexcusable offense. Mr.Rogers didn’t even mention that lipstick you have on. I happen to know for a fact your lips are not that shade of plum.” He swipes a thumb across your lips to smear the stain. “I think we should allow him to assist in your punishment since he had to leave his duties to discuss this with us.”

“I haven’t used a ruler on this one yet, will that suffice Mr.. Barnes ? She looks a bit delicate for much else.” Steve comes up behind you and begins to caress your thighs, not yet going past the skirt.

“I think a palm should get the point across rather eloquently, perhaps 10?.” Bucky keeps hold of your hand and reaches for your other to pull you close to him.

Steve releases your legs and allows Bucky to take you away. With his vibranium hand, Bucky pulls you to the opposite side of the desk, and leans you across it bringing your chest flush against the mahogany. As he releases your hands he whispers in your ear. “Now princess, I want you to count them and just maybe this will be your punishment for not telling us about your dreams sooner.”

Your thighs clench as a wave of wetness rushes through you, and your breath comes in pants as you hear the pair of them come to face each other over you. Bucky grabs your hands again, and brings them together in front of you so he can hold you down, while Steve runs a hand up your legs and slots one of his between your knees.

“I knew this tight ass couldn’t hide under that skirt, such a bad girl princess,” Steve says as he pushes the skirt over the globes and gives each one a squeeze. “Damn Bucky, can you tell how turned on she is? Dripping all over the place, ready to cum still all dressed up.” He continues kneading your backside while ignoring your moans and wiggling frame.

“Wait til you’ve finished her punishment, bet she’ll be ripe and sweet like a peach for us to taste Stevie.” Bucky growls as he pushes you back down onto the table.

Distracted by Bucky’s words and touch, you nearly miss the sound of air moving as Steve’s palm cuts through it toward your ass. You Yelp again, and whimper at the prospect of not sitting for a week. Bucky taps on your shoulder, reminding you of your duty. “What did I ask you to do princess? Are you going to be a good girl and count for us?”

“Yes, One Sergeant.” You groan out the count.

Another smack comes down to the same spot, right above the crest of your cheek. You gasp into the desk and suck in a breath from the sting. “Two Sergeant.”

Steve continues doling out your punishment to your backside, by the time he hits nine tears are welling in your eyes from the sting and pleasure building in you. Your legs are shaking with effort from standing and your voice is wrecked from garbled use.

“Ten, Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You whisper after Steve finishes his smacks and begins to rub the marks in soothing circles.

“Good job princess, you did that so well, now it’s time for your reward.” Bucky releases your arms and Steve pulls you up from the desk, the pair of them sandwiching you between them as you all move toward the bed. Your blouse is pulled over your head between frantic kisses with Steve, while Bucky strips his clothes. As they switch positions, you go to unzip the skirt and wrap your legs around Bucky, but he catches your hand and yanks it behind your back.

“Who said you were allowed to take that off? Class is in session, and you must be ready to learn.” His eyes glow with desire as he leans in to kiss you.

Once Steve has rid himself of his clothes, he returns to the bed and comes to lay behind you as Bucky sits you up. “Today’s lesson princess, is the art of how to keep sucking while you cum.” Steve is stroking his member while watching your eyes roll shut with want as he explains the plan to you. Bucky houses you forward into Steve’s chest and pulls your backside to him.

“Damn Stevie, those handprints won’t be gone for a week. She’ll have to find a softer surface to sit on.” He admires his boyfriend’s handiwork while getting his girl set. With your head down and ass up, Bucky slides his flesh hand between your thighs and begins to run two fingers along the outside of your slit. Using your arousal to coat his fingers, Bucky pushes two inside you and begins to work them slowly. He picks up speed as you begin moaning and looks up at his partners nodding to Steve to fill you from the other end.

As Bucky’s fingers move against your walls with vigor, you moan and writhe seeking out more friction on your clit. Steve takes the opportunity to place his hard cock against your open lips, and waits for you to begin sucking. No motivation needed, you lean into his groin and take him in one swallow. Moving your head back and forth, you swirl your tongue against the shaft, and as Bucky adds a third finger to your pussy, you let a moan vibrate through your body, sending a secondary shiver through Steve as well. You relax your jaw and allow Steve to begin fucking into your mouth as his own release builds, the sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans driving him wild with want. Bucky withdraws his fingers and reaches under you to lift you higher onto your knees. With this motion, Steve lifts into a kneel of his own and makes eye contact with his boyfriend. You pay them no mind as greedily sucking down your boyfriend's dick takes precedence and the prospect of getting fucked by the other makes you giddy with anticipation.

Bucky grabs a fistful of your skirt and slams your ass into his hips, setting your pussy ablaze with the slide of his thick curved cock against your walls. You groan against Steve’s painfully hard member, and before you can take him all he grabs your ponytail and pulls you off. Bucky’s brutally fast and deep pace has you close to the crest and Steve wants you to remember the rule of the scene.

“What did we say about today princess, you need to be able to keep sucking my cock while Bucky makes you come. Don’t stop, go it?” He wraps his hand in the ponytail and as you nod he allows you to take him in your mouth again.

Bucky’s thrusts are getting frantic as he chases everyone's peaks, and he reaches his vibranium hand to your clit while grabbing Steve with his opposite hand to pull him in for a hard kiss. Both men are panting as they pound into you from both sides, a hand touching each body as your body grows tight with the desire to orgasm. Bucky pinches your pearl and he tells you to come, giving a final hard thrust as he feels your walls clench around him. Like a rubber band, you snap into oblivion, no longer aware of what occurs beyond the throbbing in your pussy and the perfect fullness that surrounds you. You feel the waves of pleasure crash through you, and still both men continue their chase. Hypersensitive and fuzzy, you relax your jaw again and take Steve all the way to the hilt, and you bob your head quickly, sealing your lips around his large base trying to finish him off. Bucky’s thrusts have gone shallow as your walls have him locked like a vice, but you feel him begin to shatter as well. With a final thrust from both men, they spill into you with heavy grunts.

Bucky pulls out of you and Steve lifts you off his softened member, laying you onto the pillows.

“Did we properly defile the uniform, princess?” Steve kisses your forehead as Bucky pulls the garment off you with a smile.

“Yes Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You nod sleepily, thank each man, and curl into their frames as Bucky climbs under the sheets. “If I had had either of you for teachers, it would have been a shameful garment way sooner,” you chuckle as they share a kiss above you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #stevebucky #steve rogers #steve x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #stucky #smut

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solangelover · 3 years

Text

"Look Both Ways First, Kids!”

Submission Prompt: Hello…I just thought of this prompt and love the way you write. Will is an elementary school teacher as a side job and his classroom habits slip out while talking to Nico and the others. Like when they go out in a group, Will is like: ‘Okay now everyone hold your buddy’s hand.’

A/N: I’m going to tweak the prompt a bit since like, elementary school teacher is not a side job LOL. So now we have a mortal AU with teacher!Will, grad student!Nico (not that it matters), and they’re hanging a mix of friends (I always do Cecil and Lou Ellen so I’ll try to mix it up more haha). (YO I’VE HAD HALF OF THIS WRITTEN FOR AT LEAST A YEAR SORRY)

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

“Bye, Mr. Solace!”

Will enthusiastically waved goodbye, his last student filing out of his classroom. Man, second graders were really just adorable. Also, very messy. Will turned his gaze upon the desks covered in glitter and paper scraps and sighed. Nico did tell him that this particular art project was a bad idea, but how else was Will going to teach the kids about the states in the US if they couldn’t cut them out and color them?

Will began the arduous process of cleaning up, humming lightly to himself. He had to actually get his gum scraper (yes, he always had it on hand even if gum was not allowed in school) to get glue off the desks. After vacuuming as much glitter out of the carpet as possible, Will dusted himself off and headed to a faculty meeting.

He came back to his room to find his boyfriend wiping down his desks. He let out a noise of surprise, startling slightly in the middle of the doorway. Nico looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he stood up from where he was leaning over a desk.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he greeted. “I see you went ahead with the glitter.”

Will rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to the jab, electing to walk over and throw his arms around the dark-haired man. “What are you doing here?”

Will leaned back to see Nico’s face as he started speaking. “We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“It’s like 4:00! Isn’t it kind of early?” Will untangled himself from his boyfriend after giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Nico shrugged. “Jason said I should just get you from school. You know how he’s like an old man now and he sleeps early.” They both laughed in agreement. Jason got some government job out of college that fit his regiment of rising early and hitting the ground running. While he used to be able to hang with everyone late into the night, starting his career flipped his “adult switch” and he became “less fun,” in Leo’s words. Piper doesn’t mind much since Jason’s routine has helped steady her often turbulent schedule. She had started a small fashion company in college that really took off in the past year, meaning she had meeting after meeting with various people and often had no consistency between her workdays. Jason and Piper’s daily lives were drastically different, but they did good to balance each other out and keep each other grounded.

“Did Leo say he was coming?” Will asked as he began putting things away and shutting his windows.

“Yeah, I think so. And he’s bringing Calypso too.” Leo’s small mechanic shop had a few loyal customers, which was enough to make Leo content with his life. Then, as he tells it, a beautiful goddess waltzed into his garage covered in grease and dirt smudges, claiming to have broken down nearby and was in need of help. Leo said she gave him a decent rundown of what she found wrong with her car and was ecstatic to find that she was spot on. He was in love and, while it took a bit of charming and annoying, Leo convinced her to go out with him a few months ago.

“Oh, that’s good! I like her,” Will replied enthusiastically.

“I can’t believe she puts up with him,” Nico said in a flat voice.

“Don’t be so mean, Neeks,” the blonde said as they made their way out the door. “They’re good together and you know it. Besides, she teases Leo just as much as he does to everyone—“

“Probably why he’s whipped,” Nico cut in.

“Oh my gosh,” Will rolled his eyes as he grabbed Nico’s hand, swinging it between them.

They continued to talk and joke as they got into the car and drove downtown, where they were meeting their friends for dinner.

Once they parked and were getting out of the car, they heard a shout behind them. “Looks like the love birds finally made it!”

Nico rolled his eyes and replied without even turning around. “Don’t even talk, Pipes. You know you’re the queen of sappy romance.” Will could see the smirk on his boyfriend’s face as he rounded the car to stand next to him.

They turned in time to see the Piper’s offended expression as she strode up to them. “Excuse me,” she scoffed. “How dare you make such an accusation against me when we all know Jason is the mushiest one and he’s standing right here.”

The aforementioned blonde only sighed exasperatedly, knowing he never wins this argument. Then, a shameless grin grew on his face as he snaked his arm around his girlfriend’s waist, tugging her toward him. He shoved his nose in her face and crooned, “And don’t you forget it.”

“Woah, Jason, where’s my loving embrace?” an indignant voice cried out to their right. Will turned to see Leo walking hand-in-hand with a beautiful girl, her caramel-colored hair blowing back lightly in the breeze. Her cheeks were tinted pink as she giggled, watching her ridiculous boyfriend ramble on about being Jason’s first love and how no one cared about him around here.

Jason, ever the gentleman, immediately turned to Calypso to introduce himself, prompting everyone else to do the same.

“Leo’s told us a lot about you,” Will said politely. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“I’m glad to be here,” she said good-naturedly. “Leo’s told me many stories about you all, though I feel like they were a bit… embellished. I know for a fact that he isn’t a smooth, suave hero at all times.” She shot Leo a look that caused his cheeks to darken, even as he placed a hand on his chest in mock exaggeration. Nico was right—he was whipped.

“Oh, don’t worry. We have an endless list of embarrassing things Leo has done. We’ll fill in the gaps he probably left out,” Nico cut in. In all honesty, getting back at Leo for anything and everything he’s ever done to him was probably what he had looked forward to most about this dinner. Will couldn’t hold him back if he tried.

Before things could escalate any further, Will gestured toward the road. “Let’s head toward the restaurant before we spend the whole evening insulting each other in a parking lot. I like to have food with my entertainment.” He winked at Calypso, who laughed as she nodded in agreement.

The group mingled together, conversing loudly as they made their way toward the edge of the lot. Nico had clearly considered jaywalking across the street to the restaurant, but one stern look from his boyfriend had him pivoting to the nearest crosswalk.

Will pressed the crossing button and turned toward the group as they waited. They all continued chatting, not really paying attention to where they were going. He glanced at the crossing sign, hoping everyone could at least look forward when they stepped into the street.

When the sign lit up and his friends hadn’t moved, he spoke up on instinct. “Everyone, grab your buddy’s hand; we’re crossing the street!”

The chatter stopped, and Will blinked as all eyes stared back at him. “Um…” He glanced again at the sign, which was now counting down their seconds. Technically, you weren’t supposed to enter the road at this point, but the timer was still high. However, none of his friends seemed poised to move, so maybe he’d have to hold them back before they ended up sprinting across the street. “Are we—?”

A loud snort to his right cut him off. Will turned his head to see Nico doubled over in laughter. “You—” he tried to start, but he couldn’t hold his laughter in long enough to even form two words.

Soon enough, the others started laughing too—Leo and Piper, rather loudly, and Jason and Calypso, a bit more politely, the latter holding a hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook. Will continued to look confused, part of his mind still preoccupied with the light they were missing.

He replayed the last few minutes in his head, then promptly turned red as he groaned. His friends only laughed harder when he buried his head in his hands.

“I just want to cross the street,” he lamented through his fingers.

“But, Mr. Will,” Leo exclaimed. “You forgot to tell us to look both ways first!” He had tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from how much he was laughing. Honestly, Will thought they were all overreacting.

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t even that funny!” he cried.

“Will,” Jason started, in a consoling tone that the teacher did not think was warranted in this situation. “You didn’t hear it like we did.”

“You used your teacher voice!” Nico finally caught his breath enough to speak, though Will kind of wishes he hadn’t. “It was all high and cheery and—” He wiggled his fingers in an effort to express Will’s tone.

The blonde man turned back to see the light had changed, the red hand now mocking him and preventing him from leaving this conversation.

“You’re a teacher?” Will found Calypso looking at him with genuine curiosity in her eyes as the other four calmed down from their fits of laughter.

“Yes,” he sighed heavily. “And we had a field trip the other day. And I came straight from the classroom today.” He gazed at the others around him. “I guess I forgot I wasn’t dealing with second graders.”

Calypso carried on over the noises of indignation from the others. “Aw, second graders, how cute! Tell me about it!” Bless her, this saint of a woman, engaging in conversation and pushing Will’s slip-up away. It was a kind gesture and Will ran with it.

He quite literally turned his back on the others as he described what his day of geography and glitter was like to the woman.

In the next minute, when the light changed and the crossing sign lit up once more, he felt a hand slip into his. Nico was staring up at him, a grin on his face. “I call you as my crossing buddy.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah.” He looked to his other side to see the other couples also holding hands and smiling at him. The teacher rolled his eyes again and, before he stepped off the curb, brightly called out, “Look both ways first, kids!”

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cora-vizsla · 3 years

Text

The Kings Pet (3)

Chapter 3

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 3.8K+

Warnings: Mild talk of violence/injury. Angst. Stripping. Cock warming. Mild voyeurism. F/f touching/kissing. Praise kink?.

Authors note: I start grad school literally today so I wanted to get this out. If I missed any tags, please let me know. Part 1 and Part 2 are up and on my master list. Please let me know if I missed anything for tags! Thanks!

You had woken up in a particularly good mood. Din needed more help, but things were always okay when your King left with him. You were more comfortable with Fennec and she always made sure you were comfortable and happy. Not to mention Boba was on his way back to you.

Life was good.

You smiled over at Fennec as she watched you walk around the throne room. It’s not that she thought you were going to run or take off, but more so that she was just attentive. You figured at first it was because Boba would kill her if something happened to you but quickly it became apparent that she did genuinely care about you.

“You look restless, pet.”

You gave her a soft smile and shrugged.

“I guess so.”

“Ready for your king to come home?”

“Always! I’m glad he has someone like Din though. Makes me feel less nervous about him being out there.”

She chuckled and motioned for you to come back to her. You walked over with a carefree bounce to your step. Once you pulled yourself up and went to sit down, she motioned for you to sit with her. You plopped down gently and she started to play with your hair. It was something she did whenever you were close regardless if Boba was there or not.

“Your King is tough. He hardly needs another Mandalorian out there with him. He doesn’t really need anyone.”

“I know, Fennec. It just makes me feel better than he has someone looking out for him.”

“Even if he didn’t come back, you’d still be safe. You do know that right?”

You looked at her and frowned.

“That’s.. I’m not worried about him because of what he provides for me.”

She hummed and continued playing with your hair.

“What is it then?”

“I-I.. well.. I care about him. I appreciate everything he does for me more than I could ever speak. I owe him my life. Without him I would be dead or enslaved.”

“You’re not enslaved now?”

“No! Well.. I mean I guess? It’s not unwilling though. I.. like being here with him.”

Fennec gave you a sly smile and nodded. You started to wonder if she was there for more reasons than just to keep you safe. Your heart sank at the idea.

“Fennec? Does he ask you to stay here to make sure I don’t run away?”

Before she could answer you, loud footsteps rang out from the stairs. You both stood and saw Din rushing in half dragging Boba. Fennec ran out of the room and you ran directly to him.

“He’s hurt.”

“Get him to our room. The bed is made.”

Din grunted and continued dragging him to the back. Fennec ran into the room and opened the med pack while you helped Din get him into the bed. You made work on his armor, gently taking off what you could, leaving his helmet for last. You slipped it off and moved so you could rest his head on your lap.

“What happened?”

“We weren’t given all the information. Things went south very fast.”

“Keep him calm, sweetheart.”

You nodded at Fennec and tilted your head down to look at your King. His eyes were screwed shut but he sighed as soon as you started gently running your thumbs across his temples. You held his face in your hands as the other two cleaned him up. He finally opened his eyes and you smiled the moment his locked eyes with yours.

“Mesh’la.”

“Hey.”

His lips almost twitched into a smile and that was enough for you to know he was glad to see you. He reached one of his hands up and put it over yours.

“Can’t say this is a horrible way to wake up.”

He grunted when Fennec pressed on his abdomen, so you moved your face down closer and kissed his forehead. He hummed when you did which made you smile even more.

“You’re supposed to come home in one piece.”

“I’m still in one piece. Just have a few holes.”

You frowned and he chuckled, wincing once he did.

“Stop that! You’re hurting yourself.”

“Bossy little thing today.”

“Well, you came home hurt and I-“

He cut your mumbling off quickly with a squeeze to your hand.

“It’s okay, pet. I’m not mad at you.”

You sat in silence and held his face while Fennec patched him up. The normal snark and fire in the man you were holding seemed absent. Once Fennec was done patching him up, she left to go get pain meds for him. He needed to rest, and everyone knew he wouldn’t do that unless physically forced.

“Tell me, cyar’ika, if you could be doing anything right now what would it be?”

“This.”

He chuckled again and you scowled.

“Stop laughing. You’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“I have enough bacta on me to heal a bantha. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to rest.”

“I will once Fennec gets back.”

“Please, sir.”

He hummed as you continued to trace circles gently on his skin.

“You ask so sweetly, mesh’la. Figured since your demanding didn’t work begging would?”

“I’m not- I’m not manipulating you if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I would never. You really think that-“

“Everyone manipulates, princess. Everyone does what they have to, to get what they want. Don’t try to pretend that you’re here for any reason but to keep yourself alive. I’m not a fool. You’ll run the moment you can.”

You felt tears start to sting your eyes as he looked up at you. You wanted to run away. How could he think those horrible things? How could he not know that you cared about him far beyond the agreement you had. Running away from him had never occurred to you, not until then.

Fennec walked in with the medication and injected Boba after telling him a few things. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything more than keeping your tears from falling. Fennec left again and Boba fell asleep, finally breathing easier. Once you knew he was asleep the tears fell down your face.

“He didn’t mean anything by that.”

You jumped, forgetting Din was sitting quietly near the wall. Using your sleeve, you wiped away your tears.

“All he did was speak of you. He wanted to get home to you.”

“Why would he say that then?”

“Pain can twist things. Boba is.. prideful. If he thinks for a moment, you’re only here because of the agreement he isn’t going to let himself hope differently.”

“I meant what I said. I want to be here.”

“Anyone that sees the way you look at him knows that.”

You sniffled a few times and looked down at the man comfortable resting.

“Din, does he really think that? Does he really think I’m only here because of what he can give me?”

A modulated sigh came through his helmet.

“I think a part of him does.”

You sniffled and ran your thumbs across his face.

“This is the only time he looks peaceful; you know. When he sleeps. It’s like a lifetime worth of pain finally leaves him.”

“He’s had a rough life. It’s made him who he is though.”

“No matter how gruff he gets or how hard he pushes me away. I want to be here. I can’t say he doesn’t make my life easier but that wouldn’t matter if I didn’t want to be with him. That’s not how I am. That isn’t who I am.”

“Try not to take it personally.”

“How do I not?”

“Understand that it has very little to do with you, cyare. I have to go get the bounty turned in. Let him know I’ll be bringing him his credits as soon as I am done.”

“I will. Thank you, Din.”

He nodded once and left, leaving you utterly alone with your thoughts.

-----

Your back ached but staying with Boba was much more important to you. When he finally opened his eyes, he seemed shocked that you were still there.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Half a day or so.”

“You stayed the entire time?”

“I left once to use the refresher. Came right back. How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Feels like the Bacta worked though.”

You gave him a weak smile and helped him sit up when he started to move. He groaned and clutched at his abdomen, but he was moving much more fluid than you expected.

“Din said he would be back with your credits.”

“Fennec?”

“There was an issue in town she needed to take care of. Said it shouldn’t take long. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Water.”

You shot out of the bed and walked across the room to grab the canteen Fennec had brought earlier. You handed it to him and sank to your knees, nestled between his legs. He took a long drink and looked down at you.

“Why are you staring at me, princess.”

“I’m not here because of our agreement. At first, I was because you were sparing my life. That ended a long time ago for me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to be. I know you think I’m only here because it makes my life easier but you’re wrong. I would want to be with you if you spent the rest of your life on Slave I. You could settle down in a mud hut and I wouldn’t want to leave your side. You mean the world to me, Boba. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me and if you only want me here for our agreement. I am here for as long as you want me to be. Willingly. I just.. I can’t stand you thinking that I’m here to use you or manipulate you. My heart can’t take that, sir.”

Boba reached down and gently took your chin in his hand and a shiver racked down your spine.

“Are you done?”

You nodded, looking down out of embarrassment.

“Ah, ah. Don’t hide your face, mesh’la. You look at me, remember?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. You always do just as I ask you.”

You nodded and moved with his hand as he guided you to him. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you forward so you were straddling his waist. You looked down hoping you didn’t bump his wound.

“Don’t fret, princess. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, sir.”

He finally gave you a smile and pulled you in for a kiss. He practically devoured you with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his tongue deep in your mouth. Small moans and sighs kept slipping through your lips and Boba groaned in response.

“Normally you scream for me, cyar’ika but these sounds are beautiful too.”

He started running his hands across your body while he kissed and nipped at your neck. He pushed your head back gently so he could get access to the sensitive skin. Your head was swimming with how gentle he was being with you; handling you like you were breakable instead of something he wanted to break.

“Such a good girl for me. Taking care of me and make sure I was okay. Now your body responds to me so beautifully. The way you meld into my hands it’s like you were made for me.”

You sighed and leaned further into him.

“I’m yours, sir. I’m all yours.”

He hummed against your skin, only removing his lips from you long enough to pull your shirt off. He tossed it to the ground so he could gently palm your breasts. You breathed out a moan and leaned in to kiss him. One arm wrapped behind you so he could hold your head to him. You expected his hand to twist into your hair, but his touch stayed gentle but firm.

“Stand up, mesh’la. Take your pants off and let me see you. Let me see what is mine.”

You felt the heat rise in your face as you slipped off him and slowly pulled your pants down. He watched you and gently palmed himself, already hard inside of his pants. He motioned for you to come closer and you bit your lip, hiding your smile. You had been afraid that if you spoke up, he wouldn’t want you anymore. You were always afraid he’d become bored with you.

“Take the rest of my armor off me.”

You dropped to your knees between his legs and felt his eyes on you as you pulled the rest of the armor off him. You reached up and put your hands on the button of his pants, looking up through your lashes for permission. He nodded once and you quickly undid them, letting his cock spring free. You pulled his pants down as he carefully held himself up, careful not to jostle himself too much. Once you pulled his pants off you sat patiently waiting for what he wanted.

“Come here, little one.”

You climbed up onto his lap and straddled him with his guidance. He reached between your bodies and placed himself at your entrance, using his other hand to push you down onto him. He held your chin in his hands and you knew him well enough to know he wanted your eyes on him.

“You’re going to do what I tell you to, right pet?”

“Yes, Master. Always what you want.”

“Good girl. You’re going to sit there without moving. I don’t care who comes in this room or how bad you want it.”

“O-oh. Okay. Yes, sir.”

“If you’re a good girl for your king, then I’ll let you fuck yourself on my cock. Would you like that?”

“Yes. Yes please.”

He hummed and kissed you deeply. You told yourself it would be easy to be connected to him like that. He was seated deep inside of you which made you feel so deliciously full. He continued to kiss you and run his hands all over you until you felt like your head was in a cloud.

“Well now, what do we have here?”

You felt your body tense when you heard Fennec’s voice behind you. You peeked over your shoulder as she was sauntering into the room, more supplies in her hand.

“I really hope you didn’t split anything open.”

“Only one thing has been split open in this room.”

Boba smirked up at you and gripped your hips hard. You gasped and buried your face into Boba’s chest. Fennec sat down next to Boba and brushed your hair back, so you weren’t hiding behind it.

“Don’t hide your face, beautiful. You look so pretty on his lap. Would be a shame not to see it.”

Boba started to lay back, but his hands kept you steady. When he shifted inside of you, you bit your bottom lip to stop any noises from slipping out. Fennec got to work checking the bandages on his abdomen, barely paying you any mind. You reached down and held one of them that was giving her problems and she gave you a quick grin. You could feel your muscles shaking slightly because of the new angle he was hitting inside of you, but you did the best you could to stay still.

“She’s being an awfully good girl, Boba.”

“Yes, she is. She always does what I ask of her.”

“You should definitely reward her.”

She smirked at Boba and he grinned back at her.

“You think? What do you think, pet? Should you be rewarded for being so patient?”

You trembled and nodded.

“Y-yes, please. If y-you think I should be.”

“Look at her, Boba. She’s already shaking. How is she ever going to be able to finish properly when she’s already trembling so much?”

“I’m not sure, Fennec. Maybe it just isn’t going to happen today. What do you think, mesh’la? Think you can do it?”

“I-I.. I will try. I’m..”

You let out a whimper when he shifted underneath you. Your legs were shaking much more than you wanted to even admit. Fennec got up off the bed and stood behind you, running her fingers through your hair.

“Maybe she could use some help.”

“Hmm. Perhaps she does need some help. Too bad I’m so injured.”

You trembled again at the pure mischief written all over Boba’s face. Fennec hooked one finger under your chin and tilted your head back so it was against her chest and you could see her peering down at you.

“We can’t have our King hurting and wanting for anything, can we?”

“N-no?”

“No, we can’t. We want him comfortable and satisfied, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“I guess that means you need someone to help you, right?”

You nodded, stiffening wondering exactly what the two of them were trying to do. You wondered if it was a test since Boba had brought up Fennec before. You looked back down at Boba and his eyes were blown wide with lust.

“Go ahead, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock, just like I told you to. Fennec will make sure that we’re bothsatisfied.”

You shivered and nodded. When you started to gently move your hips both you and Boba groaned at the friction. You were afraid of hurting him, so you found yourself moving much slower and carefully than normal. You felt Fennec hook your chin again and pulled so you were looking up at her. You continued moving your hips while looking at her and she had the dirtiest smirk on her face.

“What do you think, Boba. Am I allowed to kiss your pet?”

“Whatever you need to do to make sure she’s taken care of. Whatever she wants.”

She looked back down at you and moved so her lips were almost touching yours.

“Well? Am I allowed to kiss you, pet?”

Your movements started to falter until you felt Boba’s hands tighten on your hips.

“Don’t stop moving, mesh’la. Fuck- don’t stop.”

You finally nodded at the beautiful woman asking and she crashed her mouth against yours. You moaned against her mouth as she continued to kiss you while you rocked yourself on top of Boba. Fennec moved so she was sitting directly behind you, bracing herself on your kings’ legs. She kept kissing you as she wrapped her arms around you, helping you with your movements. Boba groaned loudly and moved his thumb to your clit. You gasped and broke the kiss to look at him.

“Look at you, pet. Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

Fennec hummed in agreement and moved to kissing and biting your neck. She snaked one hand down, her fingers replacing Boba’s. Her other hand moved to your pert nipples and you moaned loudly at how overwhelmed your body felt. Your head tilted back so it was resting on Fennecs shoulders as the two of them continued to work you towards your quickly approaching orgasm. You didn’t want to hurt Boba so you put your hand son Fennecs muscular thighs caged around yours.

“That’s it, princess. Fuck you’re so tight. Let me watch you come undone. Let me watch you cum all over my cock.”

Fennec increased her pace on your clit and with three more rotations of your hips you were screaming out. The two of them made sure you continued to move, and it felt like too much. You were too full. There were too many scalding hot hands on your body as they worked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck. How could she possibly be so beautiful coming undone?”

Boba grunted and you felt him twitch inside of you. Fennec put her hands on your hips and helped you bounce on top of him, fucking yourself on him like he would have been doing to you if he wasn’t hurt. She bent forward and kissed you as Boba grunted, his orgasm finally hitting him. He came deep inside of you and held you on his waist. You relaxed back into Fennec and she continued to kiss your face and neck, helping you come down.

“T-thank you, Fennec.”

You opened your heavy eyes to Fennec giving you a beautiful smile. She kissed you once more before helping you slip off of Boba, lying next to him. You carefully curled into his side with his arm wrapped around you. Fennec made sure you were looking before she put the fingers that had been playing with your clit in her mouth. She let out a content hum and slipped them out with a pop.

“The pleasure was all mine, sweetheart.”

She gave Boba a nod and sauntered back out of the room just like she had come in. You buried your face into Boba’s side, and he chuckled.

“What have I told you about hiding your face, mesh’la.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice came out muffled because you had yet to try to rectify the situation. Boba rolled on his side, wincing but pressing his nose to yours.

“You did so good, pet. You’re so good to me.”

“I.. I was afraid you’d be.. mad.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because.. I kissed her? And she..”

He rumbled out a laugh and kissed your forehead before tilting your head up to look at him.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you regret any part of it?”

“No! No.”

“Then there is nothing to ever be sorry for. As long as you are comfortable and actually want to do something, I am always happy to give you new experiences and pleasures. Just promise me that if you ever don’t want to do something that you will speak up. I will never be mad at you, princess. Not for enjoying something I am giving you permission to do.”

“I did like it. I wasn’t sure that I would.”

“I am glad that you did. I don’t mind sharing you if it means I get to watch you come undone like that. Just make sure you always have my permission. You’re still mine.”

You nodded and finally gave him a smile.

“Get some sleep, pet. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? You’re the one who is hurt.”

“It’s my job to take care of you. Now do as your told.”

He gripped your chin, but it was playful and light. You kissed him sweetly and nodded, nestling back into him. You weren’t sure if he really believed that you wanted to be there, but it was something you could worry about later. For the time being, falling asleep with him was more than enough.

#boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #bobba fett #fennec shand #fennec #fanfic #straight filth

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bakughostly · 3 years

Note

hi👉👈 would you be open to sharing some tidbits of your new fics? your current ones live in my head rent-free

this is literally so sweet of you to ask!!! i am more than willing to share!! i've been moving so writing has been going slower and these aren't as polished as i'd like them to be, but here are tidbits from two of the fics in progress! (they're also like super different types of stories, so the first tidbit is big literary fiction/the reader also gets character development, the second is more true-to-form fic writing. sorry for the tonal whiplash lmao)

tw for character death (the character is not specified) and super vague descriptions of the cremation process!!

it's the living that's hard

He shows up three minutes before the time you’d agreed on this morning, his illegally-parked Toyota Yaris gleaming black like snakeskin. When you slide into the car, the heating system’s airflow engulfs you. Your skin still feels too cold.

Moments with Bakugou have always had a sort of weight to them—an almost stifling blanketed silence. In his car, watching the smooth way his hands slide over the old Toyota’s steering wheel, the silence feels different. You’ve only ever interacted with him in office settings, group gatherings—never an enclosed space where you’re sure he can hear each and every one of the deep breaths currently keeping you grounded.

You met him at a hero gala years ago, when your partner was just starting out, when the long nights of training turned into longer nights of patrol shifts and meetings and press events. You’d always been hero-adjacent—analytics may sound like a boring job, but it’s the safest way to make good money in Musutafu, especially if you’re a UA grad—so you understood, to an extent. You saw the work it took to become a good, well-recognized hero from the numbers end of things: ratios of assists to captures, public perception and approval, agency statistics and their impact on hero ratings.

Bakugou took the spot of number ten hero at the age of twenty-one. He knows, better than you and your partner, what it means to work yourself to the bone. He wasn’t anyone you would have sought out by yourself, that you would have struck up a friendship with, especially when he was at his worst.

But that night was a rare good one for him. He smiled, just once, when his new title was announced, pride etched into the hard planes of his face. You decided he couldn’t be as bad as everyone else you’d met from UA had made him out to be.

You were wrong, of course, but even in his lowest moments you remember that smile--that single moment in which he’d allowed himself to be proud, to relish in the accomplishments he worked so hard to achieve.

Nothing in the past week has been familiar. Everything is dismantled, upheaved, broken—the cracked glass in the picture frame on the side table next to your bed, the ache in your sides that gets worse every time you're alone, the quicks of your nails that have been bitten unevenly down to nothing.

Everything is painful to touch. There’s an ache in your fingers you can’t quite dislodge.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be there when your partner was placed into the cremation chamber, limbs arranged careful and proper. It’s something you’ve thought about since you got the call this morning, a bored front desk person telling you that it was time to come to the crematorium and complete the death rites.

It was Bakugou that you asked to drive you there, to help you with the kotsuage, to pass the bones of your lover between mismatched pairs of wooden chopsticks.

Before you leave the car, he reaches out—almost touches you. Pulls back before his fingers can graze your wrist. “I can tell them we’ll do it another time.”

You shake your head, chest tight. There’s a tall black pine next to the crematorium, just offset behind it, and it reaches over the curved, gray-shingle roof to the cold sky. The needles blend and clear, your face is hot and cold, your hands are numb and not. It feels like you’re going to die if you don’t get out of this car right now. You dig bitten-down finger quicks into your palms and force yourself to ache.

“I don’t give a shit if they called today,” he says, voice made more gruff by the cold that snakes into the idled car. “If you’re not ready, they’ll wait.”

“It wouldn’t be respectful,” you tell him. Not to the crematorium—to your partner. You don’t want them to wait longer than they already have.

You return to the familiar quiet as you step out into the mid-morning frost, as you enter the cramped building and follow the crematorium director to the table of ashes, as you pick out snowdrop bone from the soot-black remains. Phalange and vertebra, metacarpal and jaw. The collagen framework of the body you once called home.

They’re interred in a simple brass urn because they prefer—(preferred, you correct)—minimal over intricate.

Their family shrine is close. Without asking, Bakugou knows to drive you there. To let your partner be with their ancestors for a little while before they’re buried, traditional, like their family would have wanted. You burn incense—patchouli, their favorite—and allow them to rest with their kindred spirits. A sweet reunion amongst so much bitter.

He drops you off afterwards, pulling up to the sidewalk in front of your apartment building’s front door. You slip out of his car along with the interior’s heated air, and you can see his breath when he says your name, frosted and curling into the windshield.

He looks conflicted. Not sure what to say. He’s not the type to apologize—and you appreciate that. All you’ve heard for days is sorry, sorry, sorry, variations on a theme. You’re sick of it. If he apologizes now for all that you’ve lost, you think you might actually break down on the sidewalk. Kneel on the concrete until all of its peaks and valleys are carved into the shape of your shins.

“I know you’re gonna try to handle all this yourself,” he tells you eventually. “But don’t be a dumbass. If you need something, call me.”

“I will,” you tell him. It’s the truth. “Thank you.”

He nods, a lurched motion, as if he’s not quite sure how to react to anything you do. There’s no buffer between you now that your partner isn’t there to soften interactions like taking punches. You have to look at each other when you speak because there’s no one else to look at. Every word, every motion, is a direct and unavoidable blow.

“Yeah,” he responds, eyes on the massive pothole next to his car, on the street corner’s tilted lamp, on anything except the person his words are meant for. “Just don’t mention it.”

An expression, but one he means literally. If you weren’t a mess, it might have been Tell anyone about this and you’re fucking dead. It might have been I’m doing this for them, not for you. You wonder where he draws the line between pity and obligation.

And you’re not going to mention it. You know that this is more than he does for most people. For anyone, really. All of this—the quiet rides, the silent but present support, the way his chopsticks steadied yours when your hands started shaking so badly that you nearly dropped a starlight-soft piece of bone—is nothing you would ask of him. Expect of him.

That doesn’t mean you don’t wish he would stay, if only to numb the sharp edge of your apartment’s unfitting silence.

new mexico piece that doesn't have a name yet

The sky is a burnt orange above the desert when you get there, the lamps down the street above the gas station clicking on as the day continues to darken. There’s a door to the inside office of the garage on the left side of the building, but the two large, vertically sliding doors on the right are open, revealing the main shop.

A large speaker towards the back of the shop is blasting nineties hip-hop, a smooth, bassy beat overlaid by enunciated, intricate verses that adhere to the music’s tempo easy as breathing. It’s the kind of music you’d expect to hear in a mechanic’s shop, but for some reason, not the kind of music you expected Bakugou to listen to. The dark-clothes-red-eyes-and-edgy-undercut vibe screams metalhead. So do the blatant anger issues.

There are two cars other than yours on the floor, and you see him bent over the engine of a cherry-red Corvette with its hood popped. The car looks like it was made forty years ago even though it shines like it just rolled out of the factory.

But what’s more distracting than the car is Bakugou’s wide back, completely bare, the muscles shifting with each movement of whatever tool he’s using, a fast clicking noise filling the air. You still think he’s a dick, but there’s no denying that his body is impressive, all hard angles and toned lines and a shoulder-to-waist ratio that some models would probably kill for.

You only let yourself watch for a second more—maybe two or three—before you clear your throat. And then, when he doesn’t seem to hear you, you say, “Uh, hey. I’m back.”

He turns, grabbing a grey-tinged rag from the edge of the Corvette’s hood and wiping his hands on it, his fingers stained soot-black. When he’s fully facing you, your eyes catch on a long line of grease running up his obliques, drawing your gaze down the length of his torso to the waistband of his dark jeans.

Fuck. He’s got to put in work to look like this. There must be absolutely nothing else to do in Musutafu except work out and fix cars, and the man in front of you is living proof of that.

“Eyes up, extra.”

Your face heats because he’s caught you blatantly checking him out, and you rapidly look away from him and towards your car. “Just noticing how dirty you are. Not a great way to greet customers.”

“Comes with the job,” he says, unimpressed. “Customers are gonna have to deal with it. You want to know what’s wrong with your car, or did you just come here to be a fucking creep and stare?”

You’ve never met someone that purposefully tries to piss off other people as much as Bakugou, and you don’t want to meet anyone like him again after this. “Keep your ego in check. I’m here for my car.”

“It’s just like I thought. Rotor’s fucked beyond repair. Your brakes are shot on your other front wheel from picking up the slack when you drove into town.” He lets out a short, frustrated sigh. “Gonna have to replace the entire wheel along with the tire because you warped it so bad.”

“That sounds expensive.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “That’s what happens when you do reckless shit like this. You’re lucky you didn’t bend the whole axle. You’d be looking at way more.”

Your palms are sweating. Maybe it really wasn’t worth it to drive to the gas station in the rain. Maybe you should’ve stayed in the void and waited for morning. Waited until you could walk into town cold and exhausted, abandoning the paintings that cost more than your entire net worth. “Just give me an estimate.”

He gives you a number about a grand and a half more than what you have in savings. “And that’s not including labor.”

You nod, keeping your breathing even. You don’t want to react in front of him. Or at all.

Despite that, you feel your throat start to tighten, your lungs seizing in your chest. There’s no way you can afford to fix this, and if there’s that much to fix it’ll probably take longer than a few days, and this means you’re going to have to call Chisaki and tell him that you’re going to take longer and you’re positive that this is going to get you on his bad side, and Shinsou is so fucking close to getting that promotion instead of you, and now, because you were a fucking idiot and drove out on a dangerous desert highway in the middle of the fucking night, your entire career might be ruined and what were you thinking? You could have just waited and avoided all of this, but you’re so impatient that you wanted to get the drive out of the way and now you’re going to blow all of your savings on this and maybe even lose your job, and you feel so fucking worthless.

“Shit, are you—why are you crying?”

You put a hand to your face and feel just a few tears that you hadn’t even realized were there. A panic response. Your face is hot and cold and stinging. You still can’t calm your breathing and you think you’re going to have a full-on anxiety attack, so you close your eyes for a moment and ground yourself, digging your nails into your palms to feel something other than the buzzing sensation of worry and stress and fear. You can’t believe this is happening in front of another person—you feel like a child.

Bakugou looks uncomfortable, but his brows draw in something that would look like concern on a kinder face but really only serves to make him look more frustrated. He walks over and stands in front of you, awkward, like he wants to help but doesn’t know how. He smells like sweat and grease and under that, weirdly enough, something sweet like caramel. “We can work something out if you’re gonna take it that bad. Just—stop looking like that.”

Jaw clenched, you wipe the few tears away with your sleeve and shake your head. Steady your breathing. Keep your eyes trained on one of his dirty hi-tops, counting the lines of stitching on the nose of the shoe, until you feel like you can look him in the eye again. “I have a lot riding on being able to get to Taos.”

“Taos?” He narrows his eyes, frowning a little. “The fuck do you need to go there for? It’s barely bigger than Musutafu.”

“I just need to get there as soon as possible or my boss is going to be pissed.” You think of the way you’ve seen Chisaki yell at interns that got his coffee order wrong. This is much bigger than a coffee order, and you also have much more responsibility than an intern. You clench your teeth again, trying to choke down the fresh wave of anxiety the builds in your throat. Facing Chisaki is going to be worse than anything. He’s going to kill you. Or fire you. You’d almost prefer the former.

Bakugou sighs, looking between you and the car. He runs a tired hand through his hair, and even though it sounds like the last thing he would ever want to do, he says, “Let me get you a beer.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting behind the garage in a Tommy Bahama beach chair with a San Miguel in your hand, the cold bottle a balm against the fading heat of day. Bakugou is in a matching chair next to you, sipping on his own drink, and you sit together, A Tribe Called Quest playing in the garage behind you and filling the silence.

The shop floor of the garage has those large vertical doors on either side, so you can see through it, past the still and quiet cars, out onto the highway. Civilization, or something like it, across the street in those rows of two-story buildings. On this side of the shop, you can see where the edge of a few residential blocks of Musutafu meet the desert, and further than that, where the desert melts into forest. The trees closest to the edge are withered, shrunken things, probably stunted by a lack of water and the unobstructed sunlight, and you’re brutally reminded of how cruel the earth can be.

You’ve always been a little scared of the desert. It can be beautiful, sometimes, but most of the time it’s frightening. Lurking. Like a beast on the edge of your peripherals, always watching and waiting. You could walk out into this wasteland and never be found. Your bones could sink into the ground and rest there, untouched and sand-bleached, forever.

“Why’d you move out here?” you ask, even though Bakugou has been consistently refusing to acknowledge your presence after he made sure you were situated with your chair and your beer.

He shrugs. “Dunno.��

“You’re a great conversationalist.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have a conversation.” He sips his beer and you watch a bead of condensation trail down his arm. He put on a shirt before joining you out here, thank fucking god, but he’s still dirty from working on the cars in his shop and it’s almost entrancing to you—not the dirtiness, but how it came about. The obvious effort he puts into something he’s good at.

You wonder how old he is. If he owns the shop or if he just works here. There’s a lot of things you want to ask him, but he’s the least friendly man in Musutafu, so your chances of getting those questions answered are pretty fucking slim. “Okay, how about this? Question for a question. You ask me something and I’ll answer totally honest as long as you do the same.”

He glances at you, just for a second, red eyes made darker by the lack of sun. The night has settled comfortably on the horizon now, and everything about Bakugou has become a little more intimidating. He seems bigger in the darkness. His shadows are elongated in the most terrible ways. “Why the fuck would I want to know anything about you?”

Yeah. That’s what you should’ve expected. “Never mind.” You take a long swig of your beer. It tastes like sand, but that might be the desert burning itself into every single one of your senses. Just to take a final dig at him, you say, “Bet you’d have nothing interesting to tell me anyway.”

You’re going to finish your beer and leave. You’re not sure why you stayed this long—maybe it was the fact that his offer of a drink seemed like a kindness he doesn’t often show. You don’t think he’s kind by nature, but he at least didn’t laugh at you when you cried a little earlier. He has a heart, even if it’s small and shriveled and almost completely devoid of empathy.

Just as you’re downing the dregs of the San Miguel, he says, “Fine. Tell me what’s in Taos.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #HOPEFULLY soon i will be posting the living is hard #we are just having a Busy Time over here #i hope these fragments tide u over lmao sorry they are not super polished #fics

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ifeveristoday · 3 years

Text

I got out my DVDs for this rewatch (that’s not actually a big deal. I only have season 3 on DVD. 😂) so let’s get to it.

I forgot they did a cold open for this episode!

I know it’s for ambiance but man does Angel have a lot of candles displayed. Probably too ‘mainstream’ for his taste but the thought of Angel furtively going to a Bath and Bodyworks in the mall during their semi-annual sale and just buying out their whole candle selection gives me the purest joy. Let’s be real though, Angel would shop at some boutique/hole in the wall owned by a wizened old character with a twinkle in their eye and everything marked up 20%. Or it would be a steel and glass monstrosity with a collection labeled Candles for Men. That’s the range.

Back to the enormous fire hazard that this scene is -

Wait. Does fire burn on stone?

Shout out to the stunt doubles.

I think that Angel getting food for Buffy for a sort of alfresco picnic while training is really sweet, actually. Also, can't miss the opportunity for both carbs and phallic symbolism ala bread.

Everyone is so embarrassingly horny in this moment. I'd say get a room except they're in a whole giant mansion.

Always remember the bread! What did Angel do with the food after Buffy fled? Fed the no-doubt cursed pigeons that live in Sunnydale.

Thanks for the workout (insert stereotypical dirty laugh).

Oh yes, the awkward 'let's talk about your birthday without mentioning the last birthday you had at all because it's horrifying' chitchat. God, the anxiety Angel is radiating here and Buffy trying to smooth it over. You can't unfrost that trauma cake!

Angel, you utter dork. You're lucky Buffy finds you pretty. Very powerful himbo energy here. And it's nice to see some light-hearted flirting/banter between them.

How do you know when someone's aura's dirty? Buffy is only asking the reasonable questions everyone has.

Do you hear yourself, Giles. "I'm aware of your distaste in studying vibratory stones..." I can't imagine what that section of the Slayer handbook looks like. Are there pull-out charts?

Faith being conveniently gone for this episode. Boo, hiss.

That workout really did a number on Buffy. I see what you're doing with those crystals.

One of the sad parts of rewatching Buffy is that you just don't have the first time discovery feels of watching it - that magic is gone, but even though I know why Buffy's wobbling in her fight, the reveal is still upsetting. Thinking about how in Season 5, when she does get staked, just as she's questioning her powers - and here, where she's losing them.

Also, obvious observation is obvious - the sexual violence imagery is really, really blatant here - with the vampire crouched over her with the stake aimed toward her heart, just as she playfully staked Angel earlier in a more romantically set scene.

AND THEN THE THEME KICKS IN. Like, damn! Three minutes and you can pretty much tell what the plot is going to be - Buffy and Angel's UST is getting out of hand, Buffy's lone Rangering it, and something is wrong with her. And it's her birthday.

And Buffy's resourcefulness saves the day.

Perhaps you shouldn't be throwing knives in the library, Buffy.

Did they do a geography lesson on Cuernavaca? It's also just fun to say. Like La Cienega. Brief moment to ponder yet again about a show set in Southern California, actually shot in Southern California, with the huge Latine population we have and the Spanish-influenced names and culture and - getting sidetracked by all this casual 90s racism.

"We do it every year for my birthday," except your seventeenth, presumably because of the murderous ex-boyfriend stalking the town you live in and all your loved ones. [Or, he did take her and it was not shown on screen!] Sometimes I wonder if the continuity editors just go, you know, I'm going to let this one go for the 'emotion' and not just so years later, a Virgo with a deep-seated need to obsess over throwaway details will go into a thought spiral to make it make sense.

I think this is also the last time Hank Summers was spoken of with any real affection because then he was Deadbeat Dad for the remainder of the show. Oh, look. The Scoobies are surprised about the traditional birthday ice show that I'm going to nitpick about forever.

Oz is so supportive, and then the clunker of a 'deep' line of ice being cool because it's water then it's not. I do like the Whedonesque school of dialogue, but sometimes you gotta reel it back. I remember the dialogue on Dawson's Creek was getting pinged for the teenagers talking like grad students.

Quiet reflection. Oh you poor girl, you have no idea.

Quarterly projections - is a convincing filler phrase for when you don't need to know what the job is, because it's boring but sounds vaguely official. What does Hank actually do? Who cares! He's an asshole.

Sunnydale Arms, because of course, Sunnydale has a broken down abandoned murder hotel.

Quentin Travers. Boo. Hiss.

The scary music is very scary. Also one of the Council flunkies looks like a very young Vincent D'Onofrio.

This scene with them in the library is so bittersweet because Buffy is fishing for Giles's attention as a father figure substitute ("very sophisticated people go!" breaks my heart) and he pointedly is rejecting this for training talk.

Look for the flaw at its center. THE FLAW IS YOU GILES. YOU YOU YOU.

it's just so terrible, this scene because of how methodical and clinical it plays out. And Buffy is just not there, and then Giles smiles like nothing has happened.

Buffy makes it through another night - next day (another reason why this trial is so horrifying is that it takes place over several days - it's not on Buffy's birthday but leading up to it, so the idea of her getting weaker and weaker and unable to fight to make it to 18 in the first place) and it's time for the Cordelia has had enough of toxic masculinity scene!

Also, Willow blithely ignoring a person's feelings and treating Amy as just a rat is played for laughs and cuteness, but yeah...you can't treat people like puppets or rats [law and order sound]

I love Cordelia's coat. And also, while it does suck that she stood him up, he's not entitled to her time or attention and certainly not to threaten her. Go, Cordy! Fight like a girl! Yes! Pummel him into the hallway.

I also love Willow's outfit here because I think the colors are so complementary and warm and it's a cute outfit. Okay, the knit wooly hat is a bit too Blossom-esque, but whatever.

Buffy is tiny, we all know this, but I do think they purposefully dressed her in larger than her size coats in this episode to make her look even more tiny and vulnerable.

Giles is TOO BLASE for this scene also shut your mouth about throwing knives like a girl

"It's an archaic exercise in cruelty." SO WHY DID YOU GO ALONG WITH IT, BRAIN TRUST. (I am going to be very mean to Giles this whole rewatch, deal with it.)

"But I'm the one in the thick of it." No, you're not. You are going to be adjacent to it, at best.

Hey it's that guy!

Okay, in better lighting, flunkie does not look like Vincent D'Onofrio.

It's impossible to pin down one type of Vampire in the Whedonverse, except for the delineation between Grunt Bait Vampires, and Special Guest Star/Master vampires, but Kralik is the only other example of a vampire with mental illness besides Drusilla, yet he's medicated. Makes me wonder how exactly they got Kralik...he was a monster before he was a vampire, but who vamped him? I don't put it past the Watchers to have vampires created for this purpose.

Curse against lawyers!

Xander and Oz bonding over comic books is so fun. I regret they didn't really get closer until after Xander and Willow cheated because Oz was the one male friend Xander had.

They mentioned her birthday! Thinking about Buffy's love of poetry later on, this is a nice little detail, and it *is* a thoughtful, sweet gift. Also those poems: horny. Oh yes, maybe in a restrained way, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew what was up.

The Buffy and Angel relationship in season three is full of these starts and stops that I can see why and agree with others about how it's frustrating on a number of levels. They know why they can't be together, but they still try to find a common ground because they want to need the other one. They still have their identities to figure out - Buffy as the slayer and a young adult, Angel as a person, separate from Buffy and being Buffy's ex sort of maybe.

But this conversation in Helpless is genuinely sweet and a glimpse at what a normal couple at the crossroads would talk about - I think I'm also being soft on this because the other Important Male Figure in Buffy's life in this episode lets her down so spectacularly bad, that Angel being supportive and kind in his awkward way is a nice respite. It's good to be away from the angst and the horror that their relationship has had.

And the self-aware puncturing of the Moment between them is something Buffy does very well. "Taken literally, incredibly gross - I was just thinking that too". Look, it's cute and soft and I will allow it.

The horror of this episode (and there are so many) is that we have to watch Buffy become the helpless blonde in a slasher flick who is being chased by the monsters and she can't do anything about it - that she has to be rescued or die. That the real world with men catcalling and bystanders who ignore women's cries of distress is far scarier than the literal demons that inhabit the town - and Buffy brokenly saying she can't just be a person, she can't be helpless like that [like women are, still, today] is a gut punch. It's uncomfortable and unhappy because Buffy is supposed to be the hero, the [sigh] strong female lead who can kick ass and take names, and this episode is all about finding who Buffy is, separate from her super powers. Also an exercise in emotional torture, but must be Tuesday.

The physicality - the weakness that both Buffy and Giles display in this scene is so, so good. The way Buffy's hand trembles toward the needle in the case and the dawning realization of what Giles has done, has chosen to do - and he bloodlessly tells her what the Cruciamentum is.

Her tiny little "Liar."

GOD WHY DIDN'T SHE GET AN EMMY (rhetorical we all know genre tv only matters if it was Game of Rapey Thrones)

"You will be safe now, I promise you." LIAR.

Another puncturing a heavy moment - Cordelia as cavalry - I love it. Cordelia taking the most obvious approach to the situation - 'oh Buffy might have lost her memory, well he's Giles,'

I can't believe they robbed us of a conversation in the car scene with Cordy and Buffy.

Kralik had to have found a polaroid camera and a metallic sharpie for this whole scenario -- OH I KNOW WHO HE REMINDS ME OF. The Night Stalker and any number of serial killers that terrorized SoCal. Is the show being self-aware of the problem with mothers and parents in general?

Probably a glib accident.

I don't have much to say about the part where Buffy hunts Kralik because it's so masterfully done with the atmosphere and music.

Nice of Giles's backbone to enter the chat now.

This is not business. Ooo.

Buffy's "I thought I killed a man" emo overalls!

Like it's shadowy, but there's still enough light to see facial expressions. Lighting guy, I salute you.

Little red riding hood metaphor. Oh, that's so her stunt double.

CREEPY SEXUAL VIOLENCE REARS ITS DEFORMED HEAD AGAIN

Jump stair scare. I remember the first time I saw it, I jolted in the living room.

Serial Killer Shit. Why are vampires such drama queens?

THAT'S RIGHT, BUFFY DID THAT

The ending scene in the library is cathartic in that Buffy gets to stand up for herself finally, and recognizes what Giles gives up by helping her, delayed as it was, also there's the feeling of hate punching Quentin Travers via your eyes.

Still don't think she should have forgiven Giles so easily, but we don't get to see a lot of aftercare for Buffy when she gets hurt, and it is a very tender scene.

The Scoobies are being way too upbeat if they knew about the fact that Giles poisoned Buffy, which is why I'm assuming she told a very abbreviated version of events ending with Buffy killed the bad guy and Giles got fired, oops.

Xander's big strong man comment and then looking immediately to Willow to open the jar and not Oz...

I could watch this episode again with episode commentary from David Fury, but another day.

#a bit later #but here it is #saff rewatches buffy

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, everchanginginks

For @everchanginginks. I hope you enjoy this gift!

Read On AO3

*****

Just down the hall from the quiet studying of history students in Room 17-B lies classroom 17-A which, contrasting its quieter neighbor, is filled with sugar-fueled enthusiasm as adolescent students gleefully tear into their candy atom diagrams. Only after getting the go ahead from their awesome chemistry teacher wearing a colorful periodic table tie over a blue dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, of course.

Said awesome teacher places the end of a blue raspberry sour punch straw in the corner of his mouth and chews with an unabashed grin. As he’s halfway through the straw the bell rings and he breaks into his parting spiel for his students, the straw sticking from the corner of his mouth like a cowboy.

“Okay class, please make sure to turn your worksheets into the tray on your way out and please take your candy diagrams with you. You’re not gonna break my heart if you don’t eat them, I just don’t want next period to deal with this period’s mess. Tonight’s homework is on the board and on the syllabus, and don’t forget to submit your vote for Teacher of the Year during lunch if you have not already. Have a good rest of your day everyone, and as always come to me with any questions...and that means any ."

Scattered responses of “Okay” and “Thanks Mr. Stilinski” and “Bye” fill the room as the students start to file out the classroom.

“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the teeth.” Says a mildly amused female voice from over his shoulder.

Stiles finishes the candy and turns around to look exasperatedly at the strawberry blonde speaker sitting behind his desk, "And you’re underestimating how important this is. My reclaiming of the throne is in danger!"

"Uh huh..." MIT grad and certified genius Lydia Martin nods in mock understanding as she sips from her floral patterned ceramic travel coffee cup.

"Thanks again for agreeing to come in and lecture for my AP Chem students on such short notice by the way.” Stiles scratches at the tousled mess on his head and offers the open package of sour punch straws from his desk, “You are a literal God send."

She grimaces and waves the proffered sugary confection away, "For someone in the sciences, your improper use of the word 'literal' is rather concerning. Perhaps your throne is in more danger than previously thought."

“Don’t say that, you’re gonna jinx it!” He reaches over and raps his knuckles against his wooden desk three times while speaking a mile a minute, “I need to win, I can’t have mister ‘look at me bringing my history and polisci students on the coolest field trips in the history of this school because I can somehow pull strings to make these trips a reality despite there being like no funding--seriously how does he do it--and my students adore me even though I constantly look like I probably lure people into the woods with my beautiful eyes and murder them in my free time’ beat me at my own game, again !”

He huffs at the end of his tirade and looks to Lydia for understanding, but she avoids his gaze and poorly suppresses snickers under her breath.

“C’mon it’s not that funny. I know he can ‘smolder’ his way into the heart of even the most introverted student,” Stiles gesticulates with each emphasis, “but I have charm , I’m approachable , I understand these students. I love my job and I do everything in my ability to give these students every opportunity they deserve . If that’s not ‘Teacher of the Year’ material, then I don’t know what is.”

Stiles stops, taps his chin thoughtfully and sighs, “Though I totally understand that the title is purely for bragging rights, and it ultimately comes down to just continuing to be the best teacher I can be. Derek is a great teacher that also deserves the title and I can respect that, but gosh darn does he get my competitive side riled up.”

“Uh huh…” Lydia hums and taps her fingers against her cup as she pointedly looks past Stiles, “Mr. Stilinski, I do believe there’s someone that needs your help?”

“Oh!” Stiles quickly straightens himself and his tie, and turns around with a wide grin, “What can I do for--YOU!” Stiles quickly twists his expression into a frown and throws a finger up accusingly after registering who was darkening his doorway.

Standing in the doorway with a glare that could send a lesser man running for the hills is the previously mentioned competitor and last year’s winner for ‘Teacher of the Year’, mister ‘coolest history teacher’ Derek Hale in all his annoyingly gorgeous, stubbly, glory. He side-eyes Stiles’ organized chaos in the chemistry lab from behind thick framed hipster looking glasses and grimaces, “Am I interrupting something?”

Stiles grits his teeth, he can practically feel the judgement over his classroom’s state radiating off of the (not even tenured!) history teacher and no amount of soft looking cable knit sweaters could lessen that blow. “As a matter of fact--”

“No, you’re not interrupting anything at all Derek.” Lydia places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder as she walks past him, “I was just about to go say hi to Kira.”

Derek moves aside to let Lydia pass, she turns to smile at Stiles from the doorway, “I’ll come back by 6th period for your second AP Chem class. I think I’ll also grab some lunch from Whole Foods.”

“Uh...Bye?” Stiles weakly waves at Lydia’s parting back. He refocuses his attention on the offending history teacher and crosses his arms across his chest petulantly, “Alrighty, what d’ya need Mr. Hale?”

With a roll of his eyes, Derek holds up a handful of papers, steps forward, and emphatically places them in Stiles' inbox, “Your mail. I know your TA usually grabs it for you, but he’s out sick today. And I was already in the mailroom.”

“Whoa, wait wait, how do you know that my TA is out sick today, have you been stalking my classes? Are you trying to find a way to one up me? Steal some of my stellar teaching techniques because you know that you’ll lose otherwise?” Stiles narrows his eyes as his lowers voice into a conspiratorial tone while leaning forward to scrutinize Derek’s expression, “What’s your game here Mr. Hale ?”

Derek hazel eyes widen incredulously as he scoffs, “I don't need to stalk your classes, Liam's one of my students too. And please remind me, what did I do to make you so hostile again?”

“Playing dumb isn’t cute. You know full well what you did.” Stiles pokes at Derek’s chest and--oh that’s a soft sweater--puffs his own out, “But no matter what, I’m going to take what’s rightfully mine .”

His competitor’s face reddens in anger and Stiles feels a thrum of excitement at his ability to break Derek’s usual expression of ‘sourpuss lumberjack murderer’. A sly grin works its way across Stiles’ face as he shrugs coyly, “What can I say, I’m a man who knows what he wants.”

Stiles’ wrist is suddenly grabbed by a warm, slightly calloused palm--there may be something to that murderer in the woods theory--and wrenched away from the soft sweater. “And what would that be, Stiles?” Derek growls--who the hell growls --while leaning in way too close for comfort.

“What would that be? Um...I want to win? Obviously?” Stiles splutters as his face reddens, offended that Derek would suggest that there would be anything else . “I’m gonna own you, Derek. I’m gonna own you so hard, you won’t know what hit you.”

“How about you take me to dinner first, before you ‘own’ me?” Derek says matter-of-factly.

“Uh no, how about you take me to dinner to celebrate my overwhelming victory over your grumpy ass? Doesn’t that make a little more sense than going to dinner before either of us win?” Stiles rolls his eyes, laughing at Derek’s lack of logic. But his laughter sputters out and he stills once his brain processes what just happened. “Wait… wait wait… was that some sort of sad attempt at asking me out in the most backwards, reverse engineered manner possible?”

Stiles looks Derek in the eyes, who nods patiently, as if Stiles was one of their students that needs tutoring.

“Oh my God. Oh my GOD !” Stiles backs away and into his desk, voice rising in panic, “What even? What’s happening here? Are you trying to throw me off my game? Cause that’s a dirty tactic, even for you. Because there’s no way someone like you would legitimately ask out someone like me . That just doesn’t make sense. You’re like a sexy lumberjack murderer historian, and I’m like a young Bill Nye. I'm in the sciences , and you're in the humanities . And you don’t even like me. You haven’t liked me since your first day!”

“Hold on.” Derek holds his palms up defensively, “What are you talking about? You were the one glaring at me like there was no tomorrow.”

Stiles inspects Derek’s expression for any sign of deception, seeing none he sighs. “Fine, I guess it was just so unimportant to mister bigshot Hale to remember measly Mr. Stilinski. Do you remember moving into your classroom?”

He nods, urging Stiles to continue.

“So I didn’t know that the new teacher was moving in that day , so when I saw a big package outside of your soon to be classroom, I assumed that it was my delivery of graduated cylinders that was dropped off to the wrong room since it was early in the morning and people make mistakes sometimes, y’know?” Stiles gives Derek no opportunity to say anything and continues at full speed. “I went over and got ready to take the package, only to have you open the door and give me the scariest look in my entire life . Do you remember what you said to me, Derek?”

“You said,” Stiles changes his voice to imitate Derek’s, “‘That is my private property. If you value your time at this school, you will leave it alone. If I see this behavior again I will bring it up with Principal Yukimura’. So, yeah! Something about that kinda exchange can make a guy think you hate them!”

Derek groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Oh my God...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh, so you do remember? Or did you conveniently forget threatening me?” Stiles grabs another sour punch straw and chews it angrily, “Because I sure as hell didn’t!”

“Stiles…” Derek laughs breathily, “I thought you were a student . I wasn’t wearing my glasses and it was dark . Oh my god . I thought the first time we met was in the teachers' lounge, and by that point I already unknowingly made a terrible first impression on you. No wonder you looked at me with such hatred. Oh my goodness.”

“...oh.”

“Yeah, oh…”

Stiles chews the straw thoughtfully and rocks on the balls of his feet. “So… about that backwards dinner invitation…”

“Yeah?” Derek perks up slightly, looking almost adorable , though Stiles would never say that outloud.

“How about whoever wins ‘Teacher of the Year’ gets treated to dinner, hm?” Stiles holds out a hand for a handshake.

With a goofy grin revealing adorable (there’s that word again!) bunny teeth that brighten up Derek’s entire face, much better than the usual murderous look, he enthusiastically takes Stiles hand and shakes it.

“Deal.”

Epilogue

“I still can’t believe it!”

“I know.” Derek hums as he reaches over to refill Stiles’ glass.

“Honestly, who saw this coming?”

“Certainly not me,” Derek swirls some pasta around his fork and fondly watches Stiles throw back the wine as if it was jungle juice rather than a nice glass of Chardonnay.

Stiles’ honey-brown eyes glimmer with the same kind of mischievous enthusiasm that Derek remembered seeing for the first time at the first assembly of the school year. He gave some sort of spiel about the importance of working together and not being afraid to ask for help, which ended with a demonstration of elephant toothpaste. Derek is embarrassed to say how much he grew to admire the gawky chemistry teacher after that assembly.

“I absolutely kicked your ass dude.” Stiles leans across the table to grab the dessert menu. “Since it’s your treat, I think I’ll indulge in some dessert.” He worries his bottom lip, which makes Derek have to cough and turn his attention away.

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek weakly responds.

“Ooh, this one is topped with bourbon vanilla bean chantilly cream, which is basically bougie whipped cream. How do you feel about bread pudding by the way?” Stiles looks up from the menu through his eyelashes--and there is no way he doesn’t know how he looks--and flutters them exaggeratedly. “Or are you too sour over losing to wittle ol’ me?”

Derek snorts and reaches over to clasp Stiles’ free hand, “On the contrary, I’d be happy to lose to you again.”

Stiles returns the gesture and leans forward, eyes glimmering, his face mere inches away from Derek’s, “Promise?”

Derek is suddenly very glad that they are sitting because he can feel himself go weak in the knees. He nods thoughtfully, “Yeah, I promise.” And leans forward to close the gap.

Their first kiss tastes like garlic bread, which is a little unconventional, but Derek wouldn’t have it any other way.

#everchanginginks #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Hidden Meanings

Prompt fic: cafe owner! lee know x barista! y/n

fluff

w.c: 1.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So hear me out. What if we blew him up? Poisoned him? Maimed him a little?”

“For fuck’s sake, no? He’s our boss.”

“Not even one punch? Come on Jisung, you can’t tell me he isn’t a vexing person.”

“He’s… peculiar but he still pays us so we, as in you, cannot assault him. Plus I thought you were happy with the job.”

“I am. It’s just… he’s so confusing! Sometimes he just pleasantly minds his business ordering whatever here and there and other days he has me all over the place ordering ungodly amounts then having me help him finish them!”

“... He’s just like that y/n. After working for him for 6 months I thought you figured that out.”

“I’ve long figured that out, doesn’t mean I like it though. I’m just getting some serious whiplash from his constant back and forth and taking him out would give me one less headache with my thesis coming up. You’re his friend Jisung, do you know how to keep him in a good mood?”

As I let out a frustrated sigh, Jisung gave me a smile which made me narrow my eyes at him. Why does he look like he knows something I don’t?

“I think Minho’s been in quite a good mood for a while though.”

“In what world do you call him randomly screaming in the middle of closing a “good mood”? It made one of the new part-timers drop a mug at how terrified he was.”

“Like I said, he’s peculiar plus we’re a cafe. We have tons of mugs. You’re bright y/n, you’ll figure things out… eventually.”

“Excuse you, just cause you're the manager doesn't mean you can talk condescendingly to me you’re still a year younger than me.”

I rolled my eyes when suddenly the front bell jingled. I got up from the seat I had taken on the edge of his desk, and made my way to the front.

“Oh no I got this, Manager Han,” I mocked as he didn't even bother to get up.

“Yeah yeah yeah. It's around the time Minho comes, don’t keep him waiting.”

He gave me a wink which I returned with the finger as I headed out, to make it worse of course Jisung just had to be right. Minho stood at the register with a smile which turned teasing the moment his eyes landed on me. All I could do was give a polite one in return.

“Afternoon boss. Do you want your usual or do you want to change it up again?”

"Let’s change it up, you should know my tastes by now right? Surprise me." He smirked and if this were an anime you would see the little anger symbol on my head.

"Will you drink it still if I get it wrong?"

"Hmmmm, maybe?"

With a sigh I turned my back to him as I moved around to make him a drink, rolling my eyes when my face was safely out of sight. Or so I thought.

"I see that y/n," he chuckled before walking away.

He took his usual seat at the table with the most sunlight by the window. Maybe because I'm like a cat and get sleepy with direct sunlight like that, I don't know how he can sit there unfazed. Mentally cursing at myself for getting caught, I went to actually make his drink this time. Thinking back I've noticed he's tried most of our strawberry flavored items, both drinks and treats. Please don't let this flop. I placed the drink in front of him with a slice of strawberry shortcake, in case he didn’t like the drink.

"Hmmm, strawberry?" He thought aloud after taking a sip before a smirk pulled at his lips, "So you have been paying attention to me."

I prayed that my face felt warm because of the sun and not because of the blush that totally isn't burning my face right about now… come on y/n don't let him get to you, pull yourself together!

"Of course sir, you're a regular. It's hard not to when you come so often."

"So you remember all of the regulars' tastes?"

"The ones I've ran into often enough, yes."

For a moment his smile twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something but didn't. That's odd. Minho usually says what he wants, literally. He's said gibberish to me before without batting an eye. Silence passed between us as the air began to feel uneasy, back to my station at the cash register it is. As time passed he just continued to sit there with his order quietly… Once the new part-timer Jeongin came for his shift, and Jisung came out to supervise, I went to take my break after casting my god-knows-what-number concerned look at Minho who just stayed in his daze. Going out the back door, I went up the side alley towards the front of the cafe but made sure I was still out of sight as I took my rightful place on an old crate that has been deemed my break time spot for months now. That is because of a certain black furry four-legged reason who’s familiar meow echoed down the alley as soon as I took out my food, his blue eyes looked at me as he approached.

"There you are Siren. You only come when you smell my food you little bugger," I smiled.

I pulled some cat food from my lunch and placed the opened can in front of him. For a moment we ate in peaceful silence Minho’s behavior kept floating in the back of my mind until I could no longer focus on eating. Putting my half-eaten sandwich down triggered Siren to look up from his food curiously.

"You know my boss came in again. He didn't quite seem himself today, even more so after I made him a personalized drink. He acted like I got it right but maybe I got it wrong?"

"Meow!"

"Why are you getting mad? It’s not like you know his tastes either. Okay, if he isn't upset over that then what could it be? He started acting like that after I mentioned he's like other regulars-"

"Meow."

"Don't use that flat tone with me. What was I supposed to say? "Hey you're kinda cute so I can't help it"? He's also annoying and misleading, remember?"

"Hssssss."

"Wow okay. Fine, I'll go talk to him and maybe make things clear, MAYBE, okay? Happy?"

At that Siren purs before going back to his meal. With a shake of my head I went back to eating my sandwich. I mean it wasn't the most conventional conversation, and if anyone saw or heard they would think I'm crazy, but hey it cleared my head.

"See you tomorrow, One day we won't be having these conversations in public, got it? Just a bit more saving and then you're coming home with me buddy."

I gave Siren a little love as I rubbed his head before going back inside and back to my shift. After washing my hands Jisung ushered me back to the front cause we got busy and it wasn’t until things slowed down that Minho motioned for me to come over and he ordered two more drinks. Nothing else said. Setting the two drinks in front of him I assumed he wanted to be left alone again since he seemed to be in a bad mood today but at the small tug at my wrist I stopped. My eyes trailed down to catch his hand firmly around my wrist.

"Sit with me."

"But I'm on the clock and-"

"And I'm the boss. Jisung and Jeongin will be fine for now so sit with me."

This new serious and charismatic side of his threw me off and I could do nothing but oblige to his wishes. Sitting in the chair across from him, he pushed one of the drinks to me and I realized it was one of my favorites. Not really complaining, although a bit unsettled with this weird air around us, I eagerly took the drink. His question was abrupt and blunt that my immediate response may not have been the best.

"Do you know why I come here so often?"

"Just to torture me?"

I had intended it to be a joke, thinking my sarcasm was evident, but the slight hurt look on his face cut my heart. He's being so serious about this, I feel shitty for trying to joke around… I'm just not used to interactions like these between us.

"Hehe... I was joking… well you come here a lot cause you own the place right?"

"That's not the only reason… Then do you know why I always sit here?"

"Because you like the warmth from the sun?"

"No, it's because I like the view from here."

"The view of other buildings? Minho what’s going on, why are you asking all these questions?"

At my responses he just smiled at me and shook his head. This smile wasn't like the playful ones he often gave me, this was different, there's something softer about this one.

"Okay fine, last question. Have you realized that you're the only one who services me?"

"Huh? I may be here more often cause I have more availability but-"

As I spoke this my mind raced through my past time at this job. Every time Minho came in I helped him and when I asked others when I came after a day off they never mentioned Minho coming in…

"Wait, why is that then? Did someone mess up your order before so you stick to one server?"

"You know y/n for a student working on your grad thesis you aren't bright in other areas."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

My temper started to flare but the minute the words fell from his lips any fire was immediately put out, the warm smile didn't help my beating heart either.

"Let me take you on a date, preferably not a coffee one."

"Wait so you…"

All he did was nod. The pieces began to fall into place in my brain but one didn't seem to fit. I snapped my head and scanned his general view from this spot and was confused why this was his favorite until I noticed a flick of a black tail. Looking closer, from this angle you would be able to see into the alleyway. My head whipped back to the boy in front of me.

"Have you been-"

"You never answered my question," he cut me off.

Remembering my short conversation with Siren at lunch, I nodded my head. His smile grew bigger and I had to look away before my stupid blush reflex acted up again, his smile is quite the trigger. This was definitely not the direction I thought this conversation would go but I'm kind of not complaining.

"Good. Then on the date I can tell you about how I fell for a girl in an alley who fed a stray cat."

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids blurbs #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz blurbs #lee know #lee minho #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know blurbs #my writing #skz gc writing prompts #skz gc prompts

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atlafan · 4 years

Note

Can you do an imagine where harry wants a family extremely bad and hes to scared to tell you so instead he drops hints (lookin at baby clothes, prob even talkin bout a room being for a baby, always wanting to babysit your nephew just some ideas😂) like crazy crying to get you to realize what hes wanting?? Thank you love ❤

a/n: UM OKAY SURE

Baby Fever

Things typically moved quickly between you and Harry. You had said I love you to each other about a month in to your relationship, and moved in together about five months after that. Now two years in, you both had wanted to get a bigger place. Not that the place you shared wasn’t large, but you had moved into his home, and it was time you bought one together.

House hunting was a lot of fun with Harry. You weren’t about price because he could afford pretty much whatever the two of you wanted. You weren’t with him for his money or anything, but being 24 and in grad school, you didn’t exactly have the funds on your own to buy a house.

You tried to stick to the Malibu area of California. That was where the two of you spent the majority of your time. He would still keep his London home, and the apartment in New York, but the Malibu home would be yours together. Your realtor was very nice too. She would let the two of you explore the homes by yourselves at first, and not be up your butts like a lot of other realtors.

“Oh, Harry, this place is huge! What would we even do with six bedrooms? I mean there are already rooms set aside for an office, so we wouldn’t need to double up. And it’s not like we would have that many friends or family visiting at once.” You say, weaving in and out of each bedroom.

“Well...think of it as a place to grow into.” He said, not looking at you, walking with his hands in his pockets. “We might need the extra space eventually.”

“That could be years from now though, these would just sit here collecting dust.” You sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t love the layout downstairs either. It’s a little closed off in the kitchen area don’t you think?”

“That’s because there’s a formal dining area. I think it would be nice to have that.”

“But it’s just the two of us. And when we have friends for dinner, it’s more fun to gather in the kitchen.”

Harry was trying not to get annoyed. He wanted to have a dining room so one day you could have family dinners. He saw the extra bedrooms as kids rooms, but you just weren’t picking up on his hints. Well, you sort of were, but you were being dismissive, and not understanding his urgency. Sure, you had only been together for two years, but he knew he wanted to have kids with you. He told himself as soon as you bought a home, he would go out and find the most beautiful ring he could, and pop the question.

“Just keep this place in mind, hm? I happen to really like it.”

“Alright, I won’t say no just yet...give me some time to think more on it. The commute is actually pretty good from my work and to your studio, so that’s a plus.”

“See, silver linings.”

The next week you two went to the mall to buy some packing supplies and bins. You knew you’d be moving eventually, never a bad time to get a jump on packing up the things you didn’t use every day. Harry typically didn’t go shopping with you just because of fans and such, but today he had another attempt up his sleeve.

He wanted to talk to you about having kids, he really did, but he was scared. It was your body, how could he bring up the toughest thing you’ll ever have to put it through?

You were walking through a Macy’s to get to the other part of the mall when he stopped short. You were near the children’s shoes.

“Love?” You ask. He turns around holding two tiny baby shoes.

“Look at how cute these are! Imagine little feet in these things?” He says with a big smile, he looks like he could cry.

“Baby shoes are such a waste of money. You know how fast a baby’s foot grows?” You laugh. Harry’s face falls. “It’s true! Just look at my nephew. He’s a big baby, he couldn’t even wear any of his newborn stuff because he was too big. That’s why I’m glad I got them bibs and rags, stuff he can’t really grow out of.” Harry puts the shoes back, and looks at them with a pout.

“They’re still cute.”

“Most tiny things are cute.” You give him a half smile. You take his hand and walk into the mall. “I think the packing supply store is just down on the left.”

“Speaking of your nephew, when’s the next time we get to babysit. I love seein’ that little bugger.”

“I don’t know. I can text my brother to see if we can go over for a visit this weekend?”

“Yeah!” Harry perked up completely.

That weekend you go to your brother’s house. You take your nephew in your arms immediately, snuggling him to you.

“Wow, he’s starting to hug now!” You laugh.

“Yeah, watch your hair, he’s got a grip on him.” Your sister in law says.

Harry gazed at you adoringly as you rocked the baby gently. You were so good with him. You were good with babies and kids in general. He knew you’d make a great mum.

“Harry, want a turn holding him?”

“Please.” You hand the baby over, and you think Harry is going to cry he’s so happy. Anytime Harry held a baby, it looked like he had been doing it for years, like he was a mother of ten or something. “He’s so good.”

“Yeah, he’s the best baby.” You kiss his small forehead.Harry looked at you. “What?” He goes to speak, but stops himself.

“Nothin’.”

A couple of weeks go by. Harry continues to drop small hints about wanting a baby, but you continue to be oblivious. You were looking at homes on realtor when an alarm went off on your phone. You sighed and got up to go to the bathroom. Harry had grown to hate that alarm. It was your birth control pill reminder. You were just starting a fresh pack, so your hormones were on edge, and you felt sick.

“Ugh, I’m about ready to be done with this shit, it’s not worth it.” You say sitting back down.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you hate condoms babe, but we might have to consider that being our form of birth control. I’ve been taking these pills for years, and this first week after my period never gets easier. Plus, they make me snap at you from the hormones, and I always feel bad.”

“So...you want to stop taking the pill?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to talk to my doctor. Maybe I can get that shot or something and see how that feels once this pack is done.”

“Or, like you said, we could just use the condoms.”

“That won’t last. I can hear it now, C’mon babe, just let me feel ya, I promise t’pull out.” You mimic his accent. “God, and then with our luck we’d end up in trouble.”

“In trouble?”

“Hello? Pregnant.” You scoff.

“And that’s not somethin’ you want?” You look at him with wide eyes.

“Um...not right now. I mean, I’d like to finish school before any of that.”

“But at some point.”

“At some point, maybe. I haven’t really thought about it.” You shrug, turning your attention back to the computer. “Oh! Look at this one, and it’s only down the road from here. Want me to call P-”

“What do you mean you haven’t thought about it?!” Harry had officially lost it. “I think about it all the bloody time!” You set your laptop down slowly and look at him. He’s absolutely fume.

“What exactly are we talking about here?”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, are you that oblivious? I’ve been droppin’ hints like crazy for like an entire month.”

“Hints?”

“A home to grow into, the baby clothes, seeing your nephew all the time? Duh.”

“Harry, I know you aren’t seriously suggesting that we have a baby right now.”

“It wouldn’t be right now, it would be nine months from now.” He says very seriously. You stand up slowly, and start to pace around a bit.

“And you’ve been feeling this way for over a month?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve barely talked about marriage, and you want to have a baby?” Harry’s eyes start to well up with tears.

“I want a life with you. I want you to have my children. I haven’t found a way to bring any of this up. You’d be such a great mum, and I’d like to think I’d be a good dad. We both love kids.” He stands up to get closer to you, but you back away. “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m terrified! I can barely take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of another human? And you! You would leave to go on tour or something, and I would be left alone. I can’t do that, the thought of that freaks me out. Having little to know help with a child.”

“I’d be around to help. Do you really think I would jet off to leave you with an infant? Besides, once you’re done with school you’d have time to come with me more.”

“Right, because my career is meaningless compared to yours.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You grab your keys and slip your shoes on.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a drive, I need to get some air. This is all too much.”

“We’re literally about to buy a house together, where did you think all of this was going?”

“I don’t know! I figured we would take this one step at a time. I mean, you haven’t even proposed or anything. There’s zero security.”

“Buying a house together isn’t security?”

“I’m not buying it! You are! Because I’m not rich and famous, Harry! I’m just helping with the decision.” You take a deep breath. “I need to get outta here, I’ll be back later.”

Before he could grab you, you were out the door and in your car, driving fast on the highway. You needed to think everything over. Harry would be a great dad. he looked so broken when you left. He really did want to have a baby with you. Would it be so bad? You only had one more semester of school, you could start trying once you finished this last pack of birth control. And that house you looked at would be perfect for raising kids in. It had a beautiful backyard, plenty of room for them to run around. You took a deep breath and turned around.

You came back to Harry preparing dinner in the kitchen, eyes red from crying.

“Hey.” You say quietly.

“Hi.” He says not looking at you. You sigh.

“I think we should call Pam about that house we saw a couple weeks ago.” Harry’s eyes snap up to look at you.

“I thought it was too big.”

“Well, it was stupid of me to not be thinking ahead. It would be a perfect home to raise a family in.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, I want a life with you too. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this house thing with you. I’m sorry, I just got a little freaked out. I felt like my life flashed before my eyes. I’d need to finish up this last pack of birth control, and then go see my doctor...”

“We don’t have to start tryin’ right away.”

“I just need to get through this semester at school. Once I walk across that stage, and I have my diploma, we can start trying. But I can get off the pill next month to give us a better chance later.”

He wraps his arms around you, and holds you tight to his chest. You put your hands on his narrow hips. You kiss each other tenderly. He starts laughing, breaking your kiss.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’, just, you realize this means you’ll have to start calling me daddy.” You break away from him and make a gagging noise.

“In your dreams.”

“C’mon, it’ll be great. C’mere, come give daddy a kiss.”

“Harry, I’m so serious stop it.” You start to run away from him, but he chases you around the kitchen playfully.

“Don’t speak to daddy like that, s’not very nice.” You squeal when he catches you. You both laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m just kiddin’, I know ya don’t like that.”

You stayed true to your word. Once you walked across the stage at your graduation, you and Harry began trying for baby. You were all settled into your new place, and you loved it. You also loved Harry basically attacking you just about every day after you got home from work. You had never felt more wanted or sexy. You two already had a pretty active sex life, but there was something especially hot about him wanted to put a baby in you.

Your first couple of goes at it, the tests came back negative. But you assured it was only because you had been on birth control for so long, your hormones were still adjusting. It just made Harry work harder at it. He would sweep you off on romantic weekends away. He’d get you while you were showering. Most mornings you were late to work because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

You both cried tears of joy when the test eventually came back positive. You had your doctor confirm it as well. The first trimester absolutely sucked. You threw up all the time, but Harry was there to take care of you. You were starting to feel bloated and gross, but he never failed to tell you how beautiful you were. In fact, you were having more sex than you were having before, if that was even possible.

Harry thought your growing stomach and all that came with it was sexy. He was amazed at the way your body transformed. You didn’t mind all the sex either. Your hormones were going crazy between food cravings and cravings for him.

“I promise, you do not look fat. You’re not fat, you’re pregnant.”

“I look like a sausage casing.” You whine. “Maybe I should just stay home.” You were supposed to go with him to some award show.

“You look stunning, as always. Please come with me. I promise, I’ll rub your feet when we get back.”

“Alright.”

He was always doing nice things like that for you. He’d rub your feet, and lower back. He felt awful that you were in any sort of pain because of him. He would read to the baby inside your tummy, and talk to it. He would play music for it. He was already a doting father, and the baby hadn’t even come yet. He made things easier for you. You both had fun painting and decorating the nursery together, thankful you bought the house with the six bedrooms.

You gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. Harry cried for what seemed like an hour after she was born, he was so happy. As the baby was resting, you two were chatting. Your body had been though a lot, but you were still under a lot of the pain meds.

“I have a little something for you, by the way.” Harry reached into his pocket and took out a little box. “You said you didn’t want to be pregnant anymore when I did this, and technically you’re not pregnant anymore.” Tears welled up in your eyes. “I love you so much, Y/N, will you please marry me?” He opened the box and showed you the most beautiful, and elegant ring you had ever seen.

“Oh, Harry, of course I will!” He slips the ring on your finger, and kisses you over and over. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

#harry styles #may have gotten carried away with this one #dad!Harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff

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