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#IT LOOKS REALLY DIFFERENT AND IT THROWS ME OFF
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Not How We Are - LN
Request from @dannorris - Can you make something like fight/arguing with lando yk something like " flinch during the fight" but let's make it fluff what do you think?
Ok i said no angst but this is the last angst request im taking and it’s only bc its going to be the briefest angst and then fluffy.
No part 2 requests please
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Y/n really didn’t know how to tell Lando. If there was a way to blame it one someone else then she would. God she would absolutely blame a different person and feign innocence.
But smashing into a bollard with his McLaren is hardly an excusable offence. He might even just throw her in front of the car and run her over with it as a way to inform her that the relationship is in fact over.
The car is drivable, but scratched and dinted. Which isn't good since that McLaren is his baby, it's a not a cheap fix and even if he gets it fixed for free. He isn't going to be happy because he'll probably have to send it off to be fixed properly.
She’s actually broke out in a sweat just going upstairs and her clammy palms are even stressing her out more.
He’d told her to take the McLaren out when she said she needed to go out because it’s been a while since he had gone out in it. Really y/n has been trusted in all his cars and never had an issue. But something tells her that won’t be a trust she has again for a long time and he may just never trust her in most of his cars again.
Y/n swallows back thickly as she walks into the apartment.
"Baby?!" Lando calls out immediately making her almost cry. "Baby?"
Y/n silently walks into the sim/gaming room where he's set up on the sim, practicing ahead of Australia.
"Hey, come sit." Lando smiles but he suddenly notices her body language and practically scrambles up. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry." Y/n murmurs then rubbing her hands on her jeans again.
"Sorry? Sorry for what? Baby, what's happened?"
"I hit a bollard...with the McLaren." Y/n chokes out making Lando go frigid. "I'm sorry, it was an accident. I-I was just trying to get out the parking space and the bollard appeared out of nowhere."
"No, you just weren't paying attention." Lando mutters then sighing looking like he's trying to keep himself calm while she feels her body begin to tremble. "Jesus Christ. Show me the damage then."
The last thing she wanted to do even before he knew was to show him the damage but now she's got to.
"O-Ok." She nods and they head down to the garage.
They get down and Lando looks like he's in a rage. Understandably.
Someone might say it's just a car and he's rich enough to fix it, but that doesn't change the fact she broke it in the first place and he trusted her with it.
Y/n tries to at least remain sympathetic and comfort him over her stupidity because she knows she's at fault and she's taking responsibility for it.
"I'm really sorry, Lan-"
"Sorry isn't going to fix the fucking car, y/n!" Lando exclaims making her almost flinch back so much she trips and just manages to stumble to save herself.
In an instant Lando feels his heart drop realising what just happened. He actually just scared y/n. He scared his own girlfriend and she very obviously had already felt bad about the matter. He achieved nothing by shouting, she felt guilty already. Scaring her just made him an asshole about something that could be fixed.
"I-I know. I'm sorry, I-"
"No. Fuck. No. Baby, I'm sorry. I-...It can be fixed. It's going to be fine." Lando states rushing forward and feeling a relief that she doesn't flinch back at him again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it's fine. It's just a car. I could buy a while new one if I wanted and I told you to drive it it. So this is on me."
"You didn't expect me to hit a bollard though."
"No...but you didn't do it on purpose." Lando smiles lightly trying to emphasise that it really is ok. "I'm sorry for shouting. It wasn't ok."
"You were mad...I knew you would me. I would be too." Y/n mumbles then looking down at the car. "I'd offer to pay for it but I think we'd have to set up an instalment plan for the next 30 years...and that might not even be enough."
"Don't even think about it." Lando dismisses quickly, not even following her gaze to look at the car, just remaining focused on her. "Do you know what we need?"
"A ban on my license?"
"Baby..." Lando frowns lightly then rubbing her sides gently. "McDonald's?"
Y/n brightens just at the mention of fast food since she tries to keep away from it so as to not tempt Lando. Plus the amount she'd happily eat food was great.
"I am driving though." Lando smiles earning a nod from the young woman. "You get as much off the menu as you'd like."
-
Lando manages to feed y/n so full of McDonald's that she was practically comatose as she lies on top of him. Her face pressed into his chest while he tries to figure out what he needs to do to get the car fixed.
He ends up getting directed to the right people after talking to Zak for help to get the car schedule for a pick up and then flown back to England for a repair.
While he's on the phone he can feel y/n beginning to fidget and nuzzle her head heard against him. He rubs her back gently while talking and explaining the issue before she rubs her face into his chest. But eventually the plans are made and he sighs hanging up and wrapping his arms around her.
"Baby..." Lando whispers moving down to kiss the top of her head. "I love you."
"I love you too." Y/n mumbles then moving to look up at him. "I'm still sorry."
"I owe you more of an apology than you owe to me." Lando sighs earning a frown. "I love you...and you can slap me if I ever talk to you like I did again. In fact you should slap me if I do it again."
"I'm not going to slap you...I already smashed your car." Y/n smiles before sighing. "I am banning myself from driving anymore."
"Well I'm not going to enforce that but...I'm not going to force you to drive either." Lando smiles making her sigh and nod. "Would you not want to drive the Land Rover?"
Y/n has been talking about how she loves his new Land Rover than he paid a lot of money to get all done up.
"No...I might hit a pedestrian and run them over." Y/n mumbles then sighing softly. "I'll just wait a bit before I drive again."
"Ok, if that's what you'd prefer." Lando smiles then rubbing his hands up and down her back. "Do you want to nap and then...we can have a spa night?"
Lando usually has to be talked into spa nights, but there's no denying he loves seeing y/n so happy. She spends the whole night with a smile just painted on her face.
"Face masks and bubble bath?" Y/n gasps looking at him in excitement.
"Whatever you want." Lando nods earning a grin before she leans forward kissing him only for him to dodge it and immediately earn a pout. "I have one condition."
"Which is..."
"You have to be in the next Quadrant merch shoot...You always model stuff so well."
"Mmm...fine." Y/n agrees since she actually likes being involved in Quadrant and Lando wanting her to be involved with it is definitely a green flag that her actions today haven't actually created a secret hatred from Lando to her.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3
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screampied · 11 hours
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‘ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER ! ’
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ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.
wc. 7.0k
warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), praise, implied multiple órgasms, unprotected, degradation, size difference, impact play, poor dad is kinda clueless, almost caught, overstimulation.
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“who’s he?”
a simple question — yet the moment the words ran out your mouth, it felt as if all eyes were on you. in reality, it was though. the tall man who was quite a few staggering inches taller than your own father had such a gaze. he had hands buried into the depths of his pockets, shifting his weight as he stood still before burning a stare right into you. an intense stare, you could almost make out somewhat of an intriguing smirk. that sly smile with an everlasting scar running down the right side of his mouth.
“hey honey,” your father waves out with a brief gesture. he throws an arm around the buff man before giving him a rough pat on the back. “this is toji. met him ‘bout a year ago at one of those boat races. heh, news flash—he lost.”
“woah. no need to embarrass me, man,” toji murmurs in a raspy tone and by all means was his voice deep. laced in pure baritone, far deeper than your fathers. by a mile, to be specific. his voice has a jagged huskiness to it, insanely attractive. as he spoke, his eyes flickered towards you and he’d occasionally look away with that same chaffing sneer. “but anyway,” toji averts his eyes back towards you. his cologne was loud, you could smell it from miles away from you. he pauses for a few good seconds before uttering. “it’s nice to meet ya, sweetheart.”
you gulped, suddenly feeling small. you couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him — his demeanor, the way he carried himself, anything was. but it was something that had you a bit drawn in so to speak. “i um..”
“she’s not that much of a speaker,” your father chuckles, giving you a soft rub near your back. “poor brain’s probably all fried from those midterms. right honey?”
“you don’t say.” toji raises a brow, glancing away for a moment with a smile came his dimples, he was suddenly intrigued by his best friend’s daughter.
that was the initial first reaction between the two of you. you ended up staying at your father’s house for the remaining duration of your visit.
nothing too much sparked between the two of you, of course there’d be subtle moments. real subtle moments—stupid things, like having him help you grab something from one of the top shelves.
of course he’d help, he was taller than you by many many inches. effortlessly towering over you. it’s the way he’d press up against you. it was quite hard to shut those thoughts of yours up. those lewd salacious thoughts that were forever kept into the very back of your brain, silently fantasizing about your father’s best friend.
apparently, he stayed for quite around the same time you did since he and your father would typically hang. do all sorts of men activities you never really cared about—golfing, shooting ranges, watching the most recent football games. that was the most annoying part, how they’d both obnoxiously yell at the screen whenever their favorite team was pathetically losing.
your room was directly upstairs, you heard everything. it was as if the walls were merely thin. in a way, they were. the constant repetitious hollering from the two men were so irksome. eyes merely rolled to the back of your head whilst you were trying to scroll on your phone in peace.
you never did understand why a dumb game of balls would drive men so crazy. nevertheless, you let off a tiny sigh before plopping right down in your bed. immensely, you stared off into space.
you had no idea why, but the minute your eyes lingered into the white nearly peeled off drywall near the ceiling, you thought about him. toji.
stupid, maybe…
it’s been a few days and you hardly knew the guy. encounters between him were subtle and brief. he’d nod his head at you, barely acknowledging your existence and going straight back to some meaningless conversation with your father.
there was one day however, one day that had you hot all over. it was when you walked in on toji, he was using the spare shower that no one really uses, it’s reserved mostly for guests—perfect for him in this case.
you remember it like it was yesterday. since you were wide awake during this time for whatever reason, your dad sent you to go replace some towels from downstairs since he was doing laundry so you mindlessly make your way downstairs. the door was visibly cracked. sure, you probably should have knocked but who takes showers around three am?
apparently, this guy.
toji was literally just getting out the shower when you walked in. steam fogged throughout the entire space.
it was hot, stuffy and dampened with mist clinging against the rectangular mirrors. smothered with fog, you practically end up bumping right into something hard.
to be specific, that something was toji’s broad chest. maybe you were a bit delusional but you could have sworn, the moment you made contact with his bulky pecs, it moved upon impact.
“excuse you, sweetheart,” toji would scoff teasingly, his low voice was a bit more rougher since it was late at night. you were definitely speechless, barely able to process a single word from your mouth. thankfully a towel was wrapped around his slim torso—yet you started to wish maybe he didn’t have it protecting his lower half.
your eyes stuck to his chest the entire time, talk about embarrassing. immediately, your pretty dilated pupils ran down his chest, down his v-line, his perfectly structured build . . and then, his happy trail. he was well trimmed of the sort, practically. toji’s version of well trimmed was we, a bit hairy. regardless, it was still an attractive feature.
the more your eyes rove, the more you glance at his nearly perfectly sculptured structure. his chest was painted with a plethora of battle scars, now you were the one intrigued. you wanted to know more.
“you’re a little rude, huh,” and you abruptly snap from your thoughts. it was so brusque…
returning back to reality, out of that lewd trance you were so desperately trapped in—you blink twice, not even realizing how he was right up close to you. toji stares down at you before sneering. “it’s like three am. shouldn’t you be in bed?”
you shift your feet a bit, maintaining a little distance before trying to reply in the best nonchalant way possible. “uh no,” and then you utter awkwardly. “shouldn’t you be in bed? who randomly wakes up to take showers this late?”
“guys my age,” he jibes. “ya wouldn’t get it.”
you deadpan, fully aware it was a joke but you held everything in you to not have your eyes roll all the way back. “whatever,” and then you nearly forget what you were about to do. he watches you, you open near the lower cabinet and replace the clean towels. it grew profoundly quiet, a pin could drop. the moment you turned around, toji scoffs to himself. “did you need anything? something else?”
“ah. thank you, i’m fine, princess,” toji huffs with a sly grin. he reaches near the small wooden table to grab what seemed to be a half-used lotion bottle. however, you didn’t expect for him to completely change the topic, flipping your own words around with a blunt, “do you need something?”
“huh?”
“you heard me, girl.”
the banter…
he was definitely cocky, playful, literally any other synonym would fit.
you hated how he’d get you speechless everytime. you loathed how he was such an effect on you. with a brief gnaw on your bottom lip you narrow your eyes, mumbling out a, “stupid question.”
“i agree,” toji smirks. “but eh. y’er a smart girl. ‘m sure you can come up with a good comeback soon.”
he was so annoying, entirely so.
it’d be simple interactions like that between the two of you. much to your surprise though, nothing really else happened. toji would tease you a bit then pretend nothing happened, throw you a compliment or two and call it a day.
toji would often visit daily or twice a day, mainly to hang with your father. you could care less about what they did, but you were bored out of your mind from being in the house all day. you could go out, but it’s not like you had anyone to go with. everyone was either busy or … busy. besides, most of your friends were on exotic vacations or out of the country—you sighed, rubbing a hand against your stomach as you stared in the ceiling wall.
but then, the most lasciviously filthy thought made its way into your thoughts. you thickly swallowed before reaching a hand down between your legs. the air grew abnormally dry, shame…
to be completely honest, you couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. this couldn’t have ever been a more perfect time. you were sure your father and his cocky best friend was out at top golf, probably.
intaking a single breath, you lean back against your pillow—slowly, you started to focus on your breathing.
parting your legs, you lightly pull down your shorts before tugging your panties to the side. you wince for a little, realizing how you were already a bit soaked. a little dampened spot right towards the front part of your underwear. you knew it had to be from pondering about toji.
speaking of, you remember that time where he helped—well, ‘attempted’ to cook dinner that one time. all you could focus on was his hands. such rough thick hands, you wondered what’d it feel like to have those same hands gingerly wrap around your throat. such thick fingers shove down your throat while he calls you such degrading names—just anything.
the more you were deep in thought, the more drenched you started to become. you went slow, being patient with yourself. you imagined it was toji’s fingers instead of yours. such big fingers thrusting in and out of you.
steadily, you start to insert a single finger in. a middle finger, it felt good, you suppressed a single moan and by this point, your imagination was running wild. you allowed your body to relax for a few moments before you slipped another finger inside. seconds later, you started to gentle move around inside your clit. your pace was sweet and precise—you let out a soft moan that rang throughout your thin walls. “toji—f-fuckkk.”
your voice was shaky, imagining toji being here right now made you throb ten times more. just propped all up behind you, thrashing his fingers against your swollen folds made you more aroused than you ever thought. your thrusts against your own entrance was small, a steady pace but irregular enough to make your knees start to buckle.
throwing your head back a little, you started to whine as each second dragged. your breath became insignificantly heavy, hitched and all. you made sure to stimulate in all the right areas, adapting to a perfect rhythm, then that’s when you’re rudely interrupted. talk about a cliche.
“hey. is it anymore detergen—”
toji pauses mid sentence, literally trying to process the scenery in front of him. he stands still and his initial reaction was slow. the first thing he does is chortle lowly. “well, shit. is this a bad time?”
you’ve never felt anymore embarrassed in your life, a sudden wave of heat rushed over your body before you quickly shielded yourself with your blanket. “oh my god,” you’d squeak out, and toji averts his eyes elsewhere for a few seconds. “i thought you all left already.”
toji hums. he takes a moment, and it’s as if he’s thinking of what to say. he was amused, seeing your flustered state and he looks back at you. “we were but it got canceled last minute since a storm’s approaching,” and you let off a soft gulp, hearing his footsteps creak against your wooden floor as he got closer. “thank god it was me who came in here ‘n not your father, right princess? now that’d be embarrassing.”
“stop calling me that,” you grumble, and you don’t even realize how soft and weak your voice was. you slowly pull your fingers out before intaking another sharp breath. he glanced at you before simpering. “haven’t you heard of knocking?”
“girl,” toji utters in a low rasp. “the door was wide open. i can’t knock on air,” and you mentally eye rolled — he was so insufferable. incredibly so, toji’s eyes roam across your old room that was a bit scattered with some boxes from when you moved out four years ago. it was a bit unkempt, your father usually used your room sometimes just to store things from the attic. toji buried his hands into his pockets before chuckling. “i heard you, ya know. moaning my name all loud like that.”
you blinked thrice, sitting up before compressing your eyebrows together. “what?”
“whaaat?” he jeers, mocking you. toji inches closer towards you until he was right beside your bedside. you gaze up at him and he had a blunt sticking out from the corner of his lips. he looked so appetizing, even while dressed down. ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. you could tell he was fit, of course he was—you saw him shirtless. he was well likely in his early thirties, dressing so laid back and casual. “between you and me, sweetheart, you can do better. ‘s cute ‘n all but that’s not how ya finger yourself. been a while, yeah?”
this guy, he was so bold. casually speaking his dirty mind, not afraid to say anything.
you don’t know why, but those last few words made you throb. you loathed how right he was, it was as if he could read you like a book. between studies and actually living a university student’s life, you barely ever get time to yourself. time to please yourself.
“whatever,” you utter. “yeah... it’s been a while.”
“poor thing,” he clicks his tongue before taking a seat on your bed. it jitters from his weight for a bit before he peers a gaze at you. “hm,” he puffs out, dragging a hand against his jeans. “i’d be happy to help though. those useless fingers of yours can only please you so much, right? heh.”
this indescribable effect he had on you, it heavily irked your nerves. “…please,” and you don’t even register what quickly came out of your mouth.
you were so pent up by this point, being interrupted. you wanted to finish, you desperately wanted to finish. your soft breaths hitched, and toji’s intimate stare lingered on you for a bit. his loud cologne started to waft across the entire room, so intoxicating. “just make me finish, please.”
“there’s those manners,” he coos in a husky tone, and he gets up closer. he was purely teasing you, you just wanted to feel his touch . . . feel something at least. he pulls the fat cover that went over you, yet at a more tantalizingly slow pace. he was a mere tease, you nearly let off a whine once you felt the tips of his warm fingers skim past your thighs. “messy girl,” he mumbles, and then he pauses to glance at you. “are you sure? jus’ wanna-”
“toji,” you mutter, and you liked hearing you roll his name so sweetly off your tongue. seeing you grow purely frustrated was utter amusement to him. the way your eyebrows would curl and furrow, irises flaring and your jaw slightly tensing. you had such readable body language by default too. “please. i want you. just touch me.”
he simpers. “pretty please.”
“……”
again, he was so infuriating. you felt yourself starting to pant, not knowing how much longer you could take as he started to softly trail a thumb against your skin. his touch was so warm, it was intense and ignited something within you.
“touch me—pretty please, toji.” you mutter out, sprawling your legs out just a bit. it was so hot, the temperature surrounding the atmosphere of the room was so humid. he glances at you before smiling.
“that’s a good girl.”
his words warmed your heart in such a lewd provocative way, you just wanted his touch.
desperately yearning for it, toji leans up close, bringing a big hand to part your legs apart and he was so slow. he takes the blunt that was propped up between his teeth, setting it aside near your nightstand. you prepare to inhale deeply, not expecting him to then bring a tender kiss towards your inner thighs. he started to create a trail—a trail that gingerly went up and up and up.
“so sensitive,” he’d purr, watching your own body melt from just the softness of his lips against your skin. you wanted him to hurry, you replayed this exact scenario over and over at least a dozen times. now that it was reality, you just knew that your body wanted him. “oh. don’t give me that look,” and he smirks, watching the pout grow against your lips. “gonna stare at me all day or are ya gonna tell me how you’d like for me to start?”
“i need you to—eat me out,” you huff out in short singular breaths. you were throbbing rapidly, each moment he stalled to speak, the more aroused you grew. his warm breath just fanning against your folds had you nearly going weak.
he snickers. “need?” he repeats, and you moan once he swiftly drags a finger down your soaked cunt. it was drenched, but it could be a bit more. toji hums to himself cockily. “you don’t need shit, girl. fix your sentence ‘n talk proper..”
“i—” you gripe, starting to grow more and more frustrated. your vexed facial expression amused him. he raises his darkened brows, awaiting for your answer and the cute pout that continued to stretch across your lips was so cute. “i— i want you to eat me out, pretty please.”
“much better,” he says in a low gruff. the moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit, toji gently strokes a thumb up and down. opening you up slowly, he creates a single slow lick to make you whimper. “i’ll make ya cum quicker than you ever could, princess.”
and you knew he probably wouldn’t lie about a simple fact like that. toji’s touch, it was sloppy.
without a doubt, he was a messy eater.
just one taste of you and he was hooked—a new addiction for him and it wasn’t gambling.
you tasted sweet, candied even. he was in so deep, occasionally the tip of his nose would prod against your entrance. you slumped back against the bed, your legs twitching in pleasure. not before long, your lips started to part and you started to gnaw on your hardened knuckles. you didn’t wanna be too loud—you just remembered your father was right downstairs.
he didn’t have the best hearing in the world, but knowing you, you could be a bit overzealous with your moans.
the noises his tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling. he even broke away his lips just to spit a nice wad onto your pussy. you watched the entire time, mesmerized. he was so nasty—nasty and you only wanted more. toji continued to drag a thumb against your slit, lapping up your slick arousal that was already starting to drip down his chin. it ran further down, a bit of his trimmed facial hair now soaked with your sweetness.
“how’s it feel, princess,” he’d mutter out, briefly departing his lips away. as he does—you stare as a pretty cobweb of his own spit tugs against your own entrance. glistening and all, it was so sheeny. he was right between your precious thighs, and you couldn’t help but give his ruffled dark hair a light pull. “tell me how i make you feel. talk to me nice, girl.”
“good,” you whimper, nearly choking on your own saliva. your words were so trembly, you could hardly recognize yourself. it’s been a while since you’ve been eaten out, let alone being intimate. as you continued to let off irregular breathing patterns, you swallow. “f-feels good.”
“just good?” he’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. you let off a whine once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth. his tongue scrapes against your folds time and time again. it’s indescribable—toji’s head shook back and forth as he was nose deep into your pussy. for a moment, he sounds offended.
toji gives your cunt a sweet little kiss, and he feels it start to hastily pulse from doing so.
he knew you were getting close, all from a simple cue from his tongue. speaking of toji’s tongue . . it was lengthy.
so long, it reached areas that had your eyes mindlessly rolling back.
cute little cacophonies of, “oh my g-godddd,” repeated ghosts past your lips as you started to practically drag his face against you. the texture of his tongue—so moist and slick, already wet from obvious reasons, but grew even more dampened from your sheer arousal. it was a taste his tastebuds grew to crave more of. “gonna c-cum toji. f-fuckkk.”
“you’re gonna wait for me, little girl,” he grouses, and your irises fleetingly dilate. he gifts the entrance of your cunt with another string of spit, then he rubs a few circles against it. mean vigorous circles that made your legs pathetically twitch. “you make a mess when i tell you too.”
he was so mean.
such sternness in his tone, yet it turned you on. that slight secretive rasp that hid underneath his voice. toji breaks his lips away for a moment, glaring at you before focusing near the crevices of your thighs. he teasingly slides his tongue upward, away from your most sensitive area just to watch you squirm.
“toji,” you’d whimper, feeling his tongue just roam everywhere from below. he was so skilled, you’ve never had a man be so sloppy. at least in a way that toji was. he greedily sucks near your thighs, gently sinking his canines into the plush of your thighs before going back towards your pussy. “i can’t—can’t hold..”
you were barely able to finish your sentence, and that’s when you came — it was so sudden and abrupt. gushing all out of you and your nerves had your mind spiraling. a constant crazed loop.
it felt like a wave, a tsunami crashing down and it felt so good.
your orgasm that shortly followed was so loud, you didn’t even bother trying to cover your mouth. toji chuckles, cupping his mouth around the very top part of your achey slit before lapping his tongue against your hood. your hips temporarily quavered due to his tongue, and you still maintained a rough grip on his head.
“easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he’d grunt after feeling you roughly yank on his strands bringing a kiss towards your slick entrance. you swallowed, your legs feeling practically mush before he brings a terse spank towards your clit. “cute ‘n all, but i didn’t say you could finish yet.”
“s-sorry,” you’d breathe out, still feeling the after effects of your intense high. it was so good, your eyes were all hooded and droopy. toji saw a bit of drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and hums silently.
he sighs, leaning up before getting on top of you. he hovers himself and you stare up at him. he rests both arms over you, groping near the rickety headrest before leaning up close to your face.
“are you sorry, sweetheart?” and he gets up a bit closer, green viridescent eyes glance right into you—you smelled the mint and brief tang of alcohol residing on his tongue. using another hand to grab your chin, he softly pulls your bottom lip down before derisively grinning. “aw. nothing to say? no back talk this time?”
“i… want a kiss,” you pant, feeling his warm body just inches away from colliding against yours. just a single inch and he’d be grinding on you. “kiss me.”
“oh i dunno. sounds like a demand, babygirl,” he’d sneer, and your eyes leer near his scar. it was damp a little from him just being between your thighs a moment ago. perhaps it was a bit filthy, but you wanted to taste it. taste him. “ask me the right way.”
you pout, staring right into his eyes. “i wan— can i get a kiss, pretty please. i just want a kiss.”
“course ya can,” he utters, and that’s right when he squeezes your chin. your lips were plump and glossy. toji stares at you back for a long while, studying your cute expressions before he leans right in. the kiss was passionate, it felt so wrong but felt so right. you moaned the second his lips crashed onto yours. he finds it cute, feeling your arms rub and feel around his slim waist. you were pulling him closer — a sign that you wanted more of him. toji teasingly grinds his hefty body against you, and you whimper in his mouth once you feel his thick bulge prod against your panties that were halfway on you. “mhm.” he’d groan.
while his tongue skims against yours, you part your lips a bit for him and the incoming savory taste you’d get a treat out of.
you made sure to savor it, so sweet with a bit of spice.
running your tongue against his, breaking away to lick near his chin, softly making sure to lick near his stubble—you cleaned your own mess off of him. without him asking you either, toji grunts as he watched you through his peripherals. he’d never expect his best friend to have such a nasty girl for a daughter.
“y’er fuckin’ filthy,” he mumbles, breaking away and watching both strands of spit leave and depart. your lips curv into a cute needy scowl before he heard your father suddenly call out from downstairs.
“honey? i said, was that a scream…? is everything okay?”
your eyes widen, not even knowing your father was speaking—yelling actually. toji snickers, and now he’s the one suddenly quiet. prick.
“o-oh um,” you clear your throat, sitting up and that’s when toji starts to create soft chaste kisses near the inside of your neck. you nearly moaned before turning your head to speak. “i’m—i’m fine. i thought i saw a cockroach.”
“cockroach? do you need me to come up and—”
“no!” you’d quickly reply before clearing your throat once more. you let off a sigh, feeling toji start to suck near your collarbone. “i mean, no dad. i’m okay. thanks anyways.”
“okay honey, if you say so.”
toji chortles. “fuck. you’re bad at lying. just tell y’er old man you were getting eaten out by me.”
you glare at him, immensely bringing your brows into a furrow. “no, i’m not gonna say that. are you crazy?”
“maybe.”
you eye rolled, yet part of you felt like he wasn’t exactly lying. after all, he could probably be insane—perhaps he was.
you didn’t know, and to be frank, you didn’t really care. all you really cared about was getting pleasured—riding out orgasm after orgasm with him, and that’s exactly what you ended up doing for hours on end.
toji would find himself leaned back against your pillow, studying your hips carefully before grinning.
the moment you lightly shove him back, he clicks his tongue. “oh?” he says, and you already sprung his dick out. he was very much hard, presenting you with an upward slight curve. you licked your lips, hovering over him before giving him a few strokes. a groan slips past his lips and your thumb brushes against the various veins that ran just below his foreskin. “y’er gonna ride me? can a sweet girl like you even handle it?”
“shut up,” you’d fuss, and he just smirks at you. you wanted to wipe that smug expression from his face. he knew just how to irritate your nerves. toji watches you throw your leg over him, a simple hook around. you’re straddling him now and he brings two rough hands to attach near your hips. you lean in to kiss him again and he returns it, slowly tilting his head back and your arms wrap around him. he feels you reach down, grabbing ahold of his shaft before softly sliding the head of his dick near your slick entrance. “s-shit. you’re big.”
“i try not to disappoint,” he slyly says, sliding a thumb near your hips. his voice was so low, so pompous and arrogant. you give him a glare but he only hums out of pure amusement. “barely the tip in ‘n y’er struggling. need my help, sweetheart?”
you ignored him and he smirks, allowing you to do your thing—you bring one hand towards his chest, gently feeling near his perfectly chiseled abs. he was so toned, tracing against his tense muscles and he watches your every move. it was as if time was stood still, he chuckles at how eager you were. you weren’t like him, you weren’t patient and thorough. you were a bit more rushed and sloppy—cute, it was very much cute to him though.
a moan goes past your lips once the wet tip of his slowly starts to sink inside. it had a few droplets of pre-cum leaking down, and you slowly rocked your hips in place to get comfortable. his eyes go lower to focus more on your body, the grip he had on your waist was so rough and sensual. because toji was so thick — it took you a good six minutes, six precise minutes to reach all the way down to the base. your lips opened a bit, and you let off a soft shrilling whimper once you did a cute attempt at jerking forward.
“take it slow,” he purrs in such a rasp, you leisurely started to lurch back and forth once he was buried all the way down to the hilt. you inhale deeply and he was so hefty. balls deep, swollen balls that was hidden and engulfed beneath your inner walls. “atta girl.” he praises, watching you try to maintain a decent rhythm.
ringing went throughout your ears, you felt all hot.
toji playfully brings a hand to feel near your tummy. you were wearing some old university hoodie. it was comfortable, but much to his surprise, you didn’t have a bra underneath. he hums to himself, and you let off a moan once his hand trails ever further. further and further until his thumb brushes against your perky nipples.
“t— toji,” you’d moan, and another hand of his was tightly clinging onto the left part of your waist. you were riding him smoothly. yet since he was so big, you started to feel your thighs building up with drowsiness. your efforts were cute to him, so desperately eager to get off.
his black lashes flicker, and the way he’s all leaned back and manspread was so attractive—you felt your back start to naturally arch and it didn’t take long for toji to reach that particular spot. once you felt his tip prod against there—way past inside the orifices of your cunt, you let off a sweetened whimper. “found it,” he whispers, bringing you close towards his chest. you lean into his touch, intaking his cologne into your nose before your hand starts to wander all over his body. he liked how handsy you were, slipping a hand right underneath his shirt to feel a part of his abs. you made sure to trace directly on each line, each tender flexing muscle. all the way down onto his sharp v-line. further down, you started to feel his happy trail. your favorite.
he grunts, feeling the softness of your hands meander freely. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he gruffs in a sharp breath. an imaginary lump getting caught in his throat — he was holding both of your hips upright and by this point you were slamming right onto his thick cock. “touch me more. feel all over me baby.”
“can i—” you started, leaning in to kiss near the crook of his neck. your voice was soft, a bit trembly before your hands went up this time. feeling near his pecs before a breath gets caught in his throat. “can i feel here, toji?”
“f-fuckin’ girl,” he groans, a chill running down his spine the second he feels you gently rubbing a thumb against his nipples this time. toji was surprisingly far more sensitive despite his rough front he was putting up, it was a bit cute. after all, he did say feel all over you. toji was panting now, while you rode him continuously, he swiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “whatever.”
you giggle, watching him now be the one with a pouty expression this time. you plant a kiss near where his slanted scar went down his lip before he spanks your ass. “just ‘cause ‘m sensitive there doesn’t mean ‘m gonna get all whiney for you, girl,” he utters in a raspy tone. the sharp sting from the spank felt good.
you felt yourself twitch between your thighs whilst your hips moved in harmony. you do a little back bend with your hips, constantly jerking against him and he grunts with how slow yet sloppy your movements were. “keep goin’ slow like that. ‘m gonna—cum.”
his voice consistently got deeper, and the tips of his fingers gently pierced into your skin—you were vocal yourself though. moan after moan, a constant repeat. you found yourself whining out his name as if it was a lewd mantra. over and over again, to toji though, it was purely music to his ears.
he feels you start to slow down a bit though, exactly at the minute he tells you he was approaching his incoming release. toji clenched his jaw, gifting the fat of your ass with another mean spank. “f-fuck. keep fuckin’ me. make me fuckin’ cum.”
you plant kisses near his neck this time, near the very inside and you swiftly quicken your pace a little. he was stuffing you full of thick inches, full of such girth that had your tongue salivating right in your mouth. you could only imagine what it’d feel like to have his seed pouring into you. you couldn’t lie to yourself, ever since you saw toji shirtless. his bulge sticking out through his towel, you only imagined he’d be so full of cum to give. you tilt your hips backwards, and he lets off a husky groan.
that particular spot reached so deep, you felt it too. his cockhead pokes and taps repeatedly against your sweet spot and you sob out a needy, “f-fuck, ‘s right there,” you tilt forward and he’s just about reaching his peak. the longer you took, the more spanks you received.
toji was a patient man, but only for so long.
the bed frame creaked constantly, it was the only tune that played in the background. he slithers a hand down between your thighs and spanks your cunt a few times. you whimpered, already a bit sensitive but felt something else approaching. “toji— toji.”
toji groans, the build up nearly taking his breath away. with your rhythmic thrusts against him, his eyes merely roll and he has to take a minute to catch his breath. you wrap a hand around his throat—tenderly of course—then place your lips onto his once he finally finishes inside of you.
he didn’t expect for you to choke him, but he liked it.
he liked how forward you were, your thumb lightly grazed against his adam’s apple, and a deep grunt gets trapped in his throat. your cunt was practically overflowed with such dumps of his cum—you’ve never felt more filled. toji shook a little, a hand gripping your ass as you kissed him.
slowly, he started to feel himself get addicted.
he already was addicted from having a simple taste of you earlier, but he was getting infatuated. you had him whipped, and he knew this probably wouldn’t be a one time thing.
albeit, the last thing you expect is to pull away from the kiss once you feel a sudden pressure brewing up within you.
momentarily, you whine—feeling a sudden familiar wetness coat his base. nerves all throughout your body had you locked in a trance, and you pause your hips before toji tsks.
“little girl,” he mumbles with a sly smile. “did you just squirt on me?”
it was so unexpected, you pant heavily—heave after heave leaving your lips before you moan out a sweet, “y-yes.”
“don’t be shy about it. i like when it’s messy,” he sneers, his eyes tantalizingly trailing down your body once more before he lifts you up just a bit from his shaft. he observes the lewd mess, how much cum trickled past your thighs and he hums. “wanna do that again? i bet i can do it in five minutes, baby.”
to say you were being treated like a rag doll was an understatement.
toji was ruthless with you, ruthless with you in your own house. well, ex-house. you didn’t live here anymore but you used to.
he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. making you imitate and try positions you’ve never even heard of—you were getting stretched, easily said. it’s been hours by this point, you weren’t even in your room anymore. you were in the bathroom with him.
toji had you propped up against the door, you’re taking him from behind and you’re roughly biting down on your lip.
entirely so, it was still risky.
your father was right outside near the living room doing who knows what. probably watching some sports program—yet of course, he started to grow curious of where his best pal went. initially, toji said he had to use the restroom.
like four hours ago . .
he was so mean too, spanking your ass numerous times. your ass was perked upright for him, and you’re leaning against the door. you whimpered, feeling him grip on your panties that he refused to pull off of you.
oh, he likes seeing it dangle and thwack against your skin. the pretty fabric just cutely rubbing against your thighs. his weight just barely hovers against you and he’s smacking right into you.
your cunt swallowed his hefty inches each and every time—by this point, you weren’t sure if you could even give him one more.
you lost count of how many mind blowing orgasms that you were just completely intoxicated from his dick and his dick alone.
toji’s rough bare hands grab onto both parts of your ass, spreading it before deepening his strokes just a bit. you moaned, feeling every inch store inside of your sweet cunt. he knew just where to hit you. you breathe through your mouth and your nose at the same time, heavy cute pants that started to fog up the door’s material.
“fuck, fuck me f-fuckkk,” you’d drag out, and your back naturally arches just from a teasing touch of his finger racing down your back.
your ass was held up high and your cheek was softly nudging against the cold door. another build up was approaching and you were just so in awe—you were literally thinking, where has he been all your life? “close, ‘m getting closer.”
“bet you are. drippin’ all on me ‘n it’s fuckin’ nasty,” he replies—yet you freeze once you hear footsteps approach the door. it was your father, right when you were about to cum—you feel toji’s hand wrap around your mouth. your eyes roll backwards, and then he speaks through the other end of the door.
“toji? hehe, did ya fall in there man? you’re missing the game. we’re down by four points.”
toji chuckles, hearing a tiny muffled squeak go past your lips. he was balls deep, giving you such thick vigorous inches. that’s when he leans right up close to you—a hand still propped to have your mouth shut before whispering in a raspy tone. “you gotta be quiet, sweetheart. you want y’er old man to hear you make a sloppy mess on me?”
you shake your head, making an attempt to try and suck on his fingers and be smiles. “messy baby.”
your mouth was now stuffed with nothing but his thick fingers. you moaned, coating each digit with your glistening saliva as he pounded right into you. the grip your cunt had on him made him groan. eyes roll into the depths of your cranium so far back that your vision was pure black. squelch after squelch, it was so erotic. the build up of your incoming release yet again.
it was so slow and tense, you felt your thighs ache and tremble the more you were arched all over for him. the most sluttiest arch he’s seen in a while.
“huh—oh, nah man i’m good,” toji replies with a simper. you were trying so hard to be quiet, if your father heard anything, that’d be a wrap for you.
dying out of pure embarrassment certainly wasn’t on your bucket list for sure. the way toji responded was so casual, almost as if he wasn’t just happily drilling into his best friend’s cunt in his own home. “four points? shit. defense can’t do anything right.”
“telllll me about it! i could play better with my eyes clothes, damn.”
you found it so irksome how they were casually having a dumb conversation whilst you were just about to gush right into toji’s shaft—you felt him dip his hips into you deeper though, and you let off a sweet whine.
toji leans into your ear and whispers. “you’re doing a good job, sweetheart,” and then he chuckles. removing his hand—you nearly let off the most loudest orgasm imaginable, but you kept it together by biting your tongue. it was a cute squeal, and as your legs parted you made such a mess.
again…
it was probably the umpteenth time.
while you ride out your release, he’s slowing down his strokes and stares at the excess cum filling up your entrance. toji licks his lips, dragging a thumb to plug it all back in once he pulls out. he didn’t like putting things to waste. you whimper, feeling so taken aback from how stuffed full you were.
it was an awkward silence, you felt a sharp scare in your stomach once you thought your father heard everything — but thankfully so, he plopped right back down on the couch. toji lets you take a moment to calm down, and then he brings a wet kiss towards your lips. you were so sensitive, trembling within his hold—you didn’t want him to leave now.
“atta girl,” he purrs, that same sly smile pressing against his lips as he brings a thumb towards your lip. his gaze was so hypnotizing. such pools of green eyes look like it had a story to tell, and perhaps you wanted to know who toji fushiguro really was.
maybe that story is ready for another day though.
thankfully you didn’t get caught.
or did you—you had to leave out the bathroom first, then toji after about a lengthy minute time difference so it wouldn’t be remotely suspicious. once the both of you were out, after about an hour of you all crammed up and watching the boring never ending basketball game, your dad ends up going to the bathroom.
while he was occupied, you leaned against toji and he wraps an arm around you. he could tell you wanted more—but his gaze was stern, telling you with his eyes to basically be a good girl and be patient.
a few seconds past before you father bellows out a pitched. “erm. toji? is this shampoo—? what’s this white stuff over the sink? doesn’t look like shampoo.”
the both of you share the same frozen expression, impish smiles fading before you nudge toji to speak after long seconds pass.
“huh? oh, that’s uh mayonnaise. i forgot to clean up after myself.”
“aren’t you allergic to mayonnaise?”
you mentally facepalmed, watching toji break into a sheepish sweat before he gruffs out a low, “i guess not that brand of mayonnaise.”
“right. riiiight,” your father mutters, and you heard sudden shifting. it was abrupt, and you felt something fall — probably a brush from the familiar after sound, you then hear your dad add a follow up question. “wait a minute,” and he glances down near the floor. “are these panties?”
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sunnyaelia · 2 days
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I for one wouldn't mind if you re-uploaded your old fics cause I miss reading the one with Alexia and reader being an Arsenal fan. However, that's only if you wanted to.
Fans and Meetings
You’re a hard sworn Arsenal fan, but still catch Alexia’s eyes. 
Here you go bestie!!
Mostly fluff, a bit suggestive and Alexia being pretty cocky 
-
“I can’t believe this right now,” your friend was still huffing, trying to not make it too obvious that her gaze kept moving to the Barcelona players that were standing at the counter to get their coffee. “The one time I meet Barcelona players and it’s in London and while I’m wearing an Arsenal shirt. And I have no pen to sign anything.” You chuckle, even though you do like Barcelona you would only get so nervous if there were any Arsenal players in here, being one of their biggest fans - specifically Leah. 
Although you had to admit, seeing the star player Alexia Putellas up close was even more impressive than online. 
She was dressed in a simple but nice outfit, hair open and the typical serious expression on her face. “You know you could still go over,” you try to encourage your friend, knowing that she was wanting the signature of Putellas really badly since it was one of the last ones she was missing. “I know, but I don’t want to bother them in their free time. We’ll have to stay after the game and hope that she signs a few things.” You murmured your agreement, you’d forced her to wait with you for Leah to make her rounds after games more than enough until you got your signed shirt from her one day, proudly planning to wear it tonight to the big Arsenal v Barcelona game.
You excused yourself to the toilet, wanting to wash your hands that were a bit sticky from the pastry you’ve been eating. As you were busy looking for a soap dispenser that had actual soap, Alexia came in. You tried your hardest to ignore her, understanding that she probably just wanted to get coffee and wash her hands in peace. Only when she frowned as the soap dispenser at the sink she chose didn’t work you offered a “this is the only one that works,” and pointed to yours. She thanked you and to your surprise didn’t just take some of the soap and wash her hands in the other sink but stayed there, effectively trapping you in the corner where you’d been drying your hands. You could smell her perfume from how close she was, the smell very light but pleasant. She looked even prettier up close with her strong jawline and the fierce eyes. You had tried not to stare but she caught your gaze quickly flitting away when she turned to the paper towels to dry her hands. “Nice shirt.” It was a dig to the Arsenal kit you were wearing, finally having gotten your hands on the cotton candy kit. 
You decided to play along, amused that she even started this conversation. “I can get you one as well if you’d like.” You gave her your best innocent smile and beamed internally when you heard an amused chuckle from her at your comment. 
“Hmm..I think I have a different one that would suit your pretty eyes better.” For a second you blanked, being caught off guard by her..flirting? Was she flirting? Maybe she was just trying to be nice. 
“Oh you don’t think this one suits me? That hurts,” you clutched your chest in fake hurt. This time she laughed outright before answering. 
“Oh don’t worry you look beautiful, just think you could do even better.” This time you had no doubt that she was flirting with the way her intense eyes were looking into yours and suddenly became very aware of just how close she still was to you.
“Oh yeah?” You could feel yourself blushing and internally cursed at how calm and composed she still looked. 
“Hmm.” Her voice was deep when she hummed and it sent a shiver down your spine, your hand balling the paper towel you were still holding. 
“Are you wearing that to the game tonight?” Her voice was still low but she stepped back a little bit to put her paper towel in the trash, casually taking yours from you to throw it away as well. 
“No, I have another one that I’ll be wearing.” 
She threw you a look before replying. “Also an Arsenal one?” She shook her head playfully as if she was deeply disappointed and you laughed, though that quickly died out when she suddenly got closer to you again, only a few inches away from your face. 
She was easily hovering above you and it had you fighting to stay focused on her eyes instead of her lips. 
“Well, make sure you chant the right name tonight.” You chuckled, trying to appear completely unphased by how close Alexia had gotten now. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll make sure to yell out Leah’s name when she successfully takes the ball from you.” You grinned at the clear look of displeasure that crossed Alexia’s face at your comment before she suddenly had a sly smirk on. She got even closer to you, leaning in to make sure that the next words were surely only heard by you. “I’m gonna make you scream my name one way or the other.” And with one last satisfied look at your face that quickly turned red, she was gone. 
You could still feel some of the heat on your face from Alexia’s last sentence and made sure to leave that one out as you told your friend the gist of the conversation. She was absolutely freaking out, sure that Alexia had taken a liking to you while you found yourself still caught up on everything. 
As cocky and insufferable as she seemed, the blonde had definitely caught your attention now, your thoughts spiralling on the things she could do to follow through with her cheeky comment. You tried to shrug it off, she was probably just playing with you and sadly - it had worked. 
Determined to piss Alexia off, on the off chance that she would actually see you, you made sure to put on your deep red Arsenal Jersey, tying your hair up so it wouldn’t obstruct the view of the huge letters spelling out Williamson on your back.
Entering the stadium with your friend, you felt a weird kind of nervousness that you usually didn’t. As much as the games sometimes stressed you out, you were still pretty calm usually, simply excited to watch. Though not today and it only got worse when, once you were sitting, your friend immediately pointed excitedly to Alexia warming up on the pitch. You didn’t even have time to decide whether you wanted her to notice you or not because in the next moment she looked up and her gaze fell right on you. You could see her amused smile and the shake of her head clearly at the choice of both your kit and seats and barely heard the excited exclaim from your friend sitting next to you.
Alexia promised herself to wipe that smug smile that sat on your face once you saw her off. 
She only halfway succeeded at that during the game. You were extremely anxious every time she got even kind of close to the goal, knowing from past games just how quickly she could slot the ball into the net. She didn’t succeed though, Leah and Katie doing a great job of keeping her in the reins, although not succeeding at taking the ball from her. Arsenal also didn’t really get the chance to score so at halftime it was still 0:0. 
You were about to go get something to drink with your friend directly after the whistle blew for halftime, until you saw Alexia frustratedly pulling up her shirt to wipe her face, her chiselled abs on full display. Half frozen for a moment you followed the impatient tug on your arm and went with your friend, eyes still focused on Alexia and her incredible physique. 
The game had you on the edge of the seat for the remainder of the time, Aitana scoring a 1:0 lead only for an equaliser from Alessia right before the end in true Arsenal fashion.
You could live with a draw against such a massive team as Barcelona though and were therefore not sad when hearing the final whistle. 
The drinks gave you a pretty urgent need to pee and after finally getting through the crowd and the seemingly even larger line to the toilets, you were successfully back in the seats, your friend insisting to try and get Alexia’s signature. It was probably a weird show to see someone wearing an Arsenal shirt trying to get the signature for the Barcelona one in her hands and you prayed that Alexia didn’t think that you would just sell it. 
She was surrounded by a pretty big crowd that only slowly got smaller, people wanting to talk and interact with what was basically the face of Barcelona femení. 
When it was finally your turn you were honestly impressed with Alexia’s endurance to sign and talk to everyone even after such a long and hard match. You certainly wouldn’t have the nerve. 
An amused smile made it’s way on her face at the sight of you standing next to your friend. She greeted both of you, though her eyes mostly stayed on you who was clearly feeling a bit weird. She talked with your friend a bit, playfully asking her why she was wearing the wrong shirt today then. Your friend completely put it on you, jokingly saying that you had forced her before excusing herself because now she really needed to pee. 
You sat down on the barrier and watched as Alexia signed the last shirts and papers and suddenly you two were pretty much alone, only a few people left sitting very far away in the stands and completely engrossed in their conversation. 
“Wanna get my signature on your shirt too?” The teasing smile on her lips already told you that the Catalan wasn’t serious but you still rolled your eyes. “I’d love to but I think it would clash a bit with the rest of the shirt.” Alexia laughed before coming closer to you, carefully grabbing one of the arms that you were holding onto the barrier with and signing it. You hoped she wouldn’t notice the goosebumps that you got at the feeling of her hand on your naked skin.  
Seeing just how large her hand was, easily wrapping around your wrist and holding it in place, made your stomach flip. Your other hand tightened it’s grip on the barrier, making sure you don’t fall flat onto the ground. 
Alexia was stunning in the cafe but somehow now, after playing through 90 minutes and running her lungs out on the field, she was even prettier. Her hair a bit messy, looking almost golden with the slowly sinking sun shining on her as it was getting late. The muscles on her arm moving had you swallowing as she put the tip back on the edding. 
You expected a teasing remark as she had clearly seen where your eyes had gotten caught up, but she stayed silent, only looking at you. 
“Sad to have me leave so soon again?” Her voice was slightly teasing now but you didn’t mind, a small grin on your face as you answered. 
“You wish. I’ll probably see you again anyway.” 
She leaned onto the barrier next to you, clearly exhausted from the match. Still, she seemingly wanted to stay out here with you. 
Your heart fluttered at the thought, even if it didn’t have to mean anything. 
“You will? Finally changing to the right team then?” 
You laughed and shook your head before explaining that you’d be going back to Barcelona to finish your degree there, having only been here to visit some of your family. 
“So you actually live in Barcelona soon?”
When you nodded in confirmation, Alexia pushed herself off the barrier, took the tip off the edding again and grabbed your arm. In a lot smaller font she wrote down a few numbers on your inner wrist, making sure it was readable but not big enough for someone walking by to see. 
She was still holding your hand when she turned to look at you again. “My phone number. If you ever want to go out.” 
You smiled brightly which was mirrored immediately by Alexia who squeezed your hand before turning around and walking to the changing rooms. She only made one last comment without turning around before disappearing. 
“Make sure to put on a different outfit!” 
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babyleostuff · 2 days
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fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 613
. . . just cheol being cheol (aka him freaking out because of your fever)
natalia’s note: very much self indulgent, i came home with a fever all of a sudden like a week ago, and ever since im in desperate need of choi seungcheol
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“i’m not dying, you know?” 
“i know,” cheol huffed, and threw what had to be the tenth blanket over you. 
“then why are you acting like i’m about to pass away?” you laughed, seeing your boyfriend’s focused expression. according to his logic, if the blankets weren’t all sprawled out properly, you’d freeze to death, and his furrowed dark eyebrows alongside the crease between them showed how serious he was about it. 
you could hear him mutter something under his breath. he was always like that when you were sick - too worried, and too overprotective. that’s why sometimes you didn’t even bother telling him you were ill, especially with his busy schedules - you didn’t want to burden him even more (he’d probably strangle you if he heard you calling yourself a burden). 
to be honest, you didn’t even have to be sick - the second cheol would notice you acting differently than usual he’d be all over you asking what’s wrong. but while usually you were very grateful for his caring nature, now was not the time. “i’m sorry for being worried about my girlfriend coming home with a fever,” he said, looking offended. 
“cheol, baby. it’s just a fever,” you quickly grabbed the pills from his hand to get his attention back on you. “i’m sure it’s not even a proper fever, i’m just feeling a bit under the weather, that’s all. there is no need for you to be worried.” 
your “illness” was nothing that a long session of cuddles with him and kkuma couldn’t solve, but it seemed like your boyfriend didn’t share your optimism. “fine, do whatever you want,” he grumbled, his pout on full display, and left the room, leaving you too stunned to speak. 
with a loud sigh, you fell back against the stack of pillows cheol fluffed up before forcing you to lay down. of course you didn’t mean to make him think you didn't want his help, you loved how big of a caregiver he was (especially when it came to you), it’s just that unlike him - for you, being sick wasn't the end of the world, and you didn't need him to babysit you. 
not wanting to argue, you stood up from the bed with a soft groan, throwing off all the blankets cheol covered you with. you knew it wouldn't be hard to appease him, he wasn't really angry, more disappointed that you were rejecting his help.
you entered the kitchen and immediately saw him cutting up some food, probably preparing dinner. “cheollie,” you said quietly, hoping he would look at you. unfortunately, he stubbornly continued to cut the vegetables. "baby, please, i didn't mean to upset you." you walked around the kitchen island and hugged him from the side, burying your head in his neck.
you saw his pout out of the corner of your eye, so your suspicions that he wasn't actually angry were correct. “i was just worried about you," he finally said after a while, and put the knife down. "there's nothing fun about seeing your girlfriend come home all burning up with fever."
“i know love, i know,” you mumbled, and kissed his bicep, running your hand gently over his tummy. “i really appreciate everything you do, but i’d rather cuddle with you and kkuma. we could watch something, and you’d get to hold me, hm?” you smiled, seeing the corners of his mouth turning up a little. if there was one thing cheol could never decline, it’d be a cuddle session with his girls. 
“you’ll take the medicine, though,” he said sternly, kissing your hot forehead. “now get your ass back to bed, i’ll be right back” he added.
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taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings
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greatooglymooglyyy · 18 hours
Note
Heyyyyy
I suck at coming up with requests but I want stories so bad lmfao 😭✋
Anyways, I saw that you were looking for requests and decided to throw one over.
Could you do a story that has to do with Matt and a reader who is really artsy and will straight up draw on his arms and color in his tattoos at the most random times?
Hope thats not too terrible an attempt at a concept lol, thanks
🦥
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You Drew Stars (M.S.)
contains: fluff, kissing, general teethrotting sweetness, 900+ words
a/n: anon do you even remember requesting this? lmao listen i love you. this is a bit different from what you said butttt i tried.
“You sure you won’t be bored?” Matt asks as he settles in his gaming chair, looking over his shoulder to where I’m seated.
I smile over at him and shake my head at the question. It's one he asks every time he starts a stream when I’m around. “I’m sure. But are you sure it’s okay if I paint in here?”
After I fell asleep waiting for him to finish a game last week, Matt came home with an unreasonable amount of art supplies. I’d been watching Bob Ross videos on repeat for a couple of months- What can I say? He’s a gateway drug- and he thought I'd like to try painting for myself.
“Of course you can. That’s like the whole point.” Matt answers with a smile. I readjust the sheet under me anyway before I squeeze a small amount of paint onto my palette.
As I start to sketch out an outline with a pencil, I hear Matt start his stream and greet everybody. He starts his game up and begins to explain where he is in his game so I pop in one of my airpods and try to focus. After about twenty minutes, Matt swivels his chair around quickly and I look up at the sound.
“What’s on my floor?” He reads out with a laugh making me realize I hadn’t thought to check if I was in the frame. But it's too late now and I’m not about to crawl across the floor so I pop my head up and wave. “Hi, chat.”
He gestures out for me so I stand and go to his side, letting him wrap an arm around my waist. I lean into him, resting my head against his, while I read. “I was painting but I’m just a beginner. It’s not good yet.”
“That’s not true,” Matt says, holding up his phone and showing off his lock screen. It's a picture of a drawing I did on his back a couple of days ago. We’d been watching a movie in his bed when he fell asleep so I’d taken the opportunity to paint Charmander. “She did this in like an hour. I didn’t want to wash it off.”
I roll my eyes at him and squint at the chat trying to pick out a comment to respond to. “Do another one? I should when he’s done streaming.” I say with a smile, going to pull away and lay back on the floor.
“You can do it now,” Matt says, pulling me back to him. “Go get the other chair. I’ll stay still.”
I give him a look of disbelief. “You can’t sit still and stream.”
“I only need one arm. C’mon.” He says, moving me gently out of his way so he can scoot his chair over.
Well, I guess this is happening. I shrug and do what he says, collecting my art supplies and rolling the spare chair over to him.
I decide to try painting tiny planets because they seem easy enough and they fill in the gaps between his tattoos. He smiles when I begin, muttering about it tickling, but then turns his attention back to the game.
To his credit, he does try to keep his promise and stay still, only jumping up or making a big disturbance a couple of times. When I’m done, I sit back and stare at his arm. It’s kind of cute when you turn your head and squint.
Noticing I’m not painting anymore, Matt looks down at his arm and gasps dramatically. “Look, guys.” He says, carefully lifting his arm to show his stream.
I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. “You’re so embarrassing.”
He nods at where his phone lies between us. “Take a picture before I accidentally fuck it up.”
*******************************************
A week later, I’m still being tagged in edits of us from the stream. Currently, I’m lying on my stomach, kicking my feet and giggling over the comments on a new one. ‘The way he looks at her. God, when will it be my turn.’ As if my ego needed more stroking. Just as I like one asking if I can fight, Matt’s door opens and I look up. I hadn’t even heard them come home.
“Hi, baby.” He says as he pulls off his shirt and opens his closet. My face screws up when I notice his arm has been wrapped in saran wrap. “Hey. You got a new tattoo? You didn’t tell me.”
Usually, the night before he gets a tattoo, he googles images to have a good idea of what he wants. We stay up for hours looking through drafts together so I’m a little sad he didn’t want my input this time.
Matt grins at me, coming over to sit on the bed. “It was a surprise.” He starts to unwrap his arm, wincing slightly, and my jaw drops when I recognize what it is.
With as light a touch as I can manage, I smooth my fingers over the tiny drawings of Saturn and Venus. My eyes start to water as I look up to meet his eyes. “You got my painting.”
“I did.” He says, leaning in close and placing a kiss on my jawline.
“Why?” I ask, in equal parts wonder and bewilderment. “You said you want to fill that gap with something special.”
He pulls back and raises his brows. “It is special. My girl drew it for me.”
🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos
@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo
@clemlament @fwskullz @luv4kozume
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satellitespinner · 2 days
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✼ mommy issues .. (one)
a/n: oh did you think this was gonna be a cute lil fluff fic? nahh it’s sad city down there!! be careful..
content warnings: ANGST panic attacks.. hurt (no comfort.) joel is dead. ellie’s a lil sad :/// ellie’s a lil anxious… ellie’s a projection of me.. ANYWAYS. reader and ellie are kinda the same but different ??? swearing ofc.. reader is very much okay with being a lesbian ! and she’s on good terms with the baby fawtha cause what! ellie is not fond of children apparently?? she also might be autistic.
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wc: 2k.
taglist: @flowersforvi @diddiqueen @ellslvr @saturnsdrafts @3lli3l0v3r @williamssgirl @liasxeatt @adelaide013 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @elliessweetheart @pedropascalsbbg @ellies2missingfingers @nelzooo @r3starttt @jaeminpookie @onlinelesbo @tphmnv @p4ison1vy @pascals-doll @snowy-vee @diddiqueen
ellie grew up around masculinity, thats why people assume she is the way she is. but ellie can assure that her brain would work the exact same way if she had a mother.
plus, she had joel. that was really all she needed. she still knew how to be a woman. it’s not like she grew up without a mother and didn’t know anything about herself.
2 WEEKS AND 4 DAYS AGO..
ellie sighed and threw the white stained towel over her shoulder. fuck she muttered under her breath as she read yet another email.
ATTENTION STUDENTS!
You will all be required to purchase the following textbooks in order to complete the course - They will help immensely in the upcoming exam. I recommend reading carefully and thoroughly.
Sincerely,
Prof Morgan.
all 5 of the books linked in the email were over $150.00 each. how the fuck was she supposed to work that out? all while paying her own tuition, rent and utilities.
“yo, williams!” her manager jesse yelled, interrupting her calculations.
“breaks over.” he snatches the towel from her shoulder and makes his way back into the kitchen with it in tow.
she scoffs and shoves her phone back into her polyester pocket. jesse’s head pops back into the room “oh and” he starts before turning to her. “you’re training today” she scoffs and lifts herself off the chair.
“is that even in my job description?” she follows him out of the kitchen once again.
“sure it is, i just described it to you.” he winks, ellie huffs.
the sky had dimmed by the time ellies shift was over. skating home was gonna be a bitch.
“you need a ride home?” dina places a hand atop her shoulder, a helpful smile on her face. ellie really wanted to say no. she’s been asking for help from others so much lately.
“no, uhh- i’ll get home t’night. thanks dee.” she nods as she grabs her skateboard from her locker. have the trucks always been this lose?
“no, i insist.” dina presses. she pulls out her keys and throws her bag over her shoulder.
“let’s go, my child.” she giggles at the nickname. ellies shoulders relax.
“thanks again, i really appreciate it.” ellie said, her tone laced with genuine gratitude. dina dismisses her with a hand flick. “don’t even sweat it.” she bragged. “now get goin, it’s late.”
ellie pushes the car door open with a steady grip on her skateboard. her smile falters as she waves dina off.
she unlocks her door with a trembling hand, she hated being alone.
the picture of her and joel neatly placed beside the coat rack mocked her as she placed her skateboard down in its dedicated spot. she stared into the picture until the colors morphed into one big glob.
the loss of not just a parent, but her only parent cut her deep. she could barely lift her head for the first while, nevermind go to work. she should be proud of herself! but she isn’t.
how could she be? she felt like everyone else in her life was doing so much with themselves. dina had a kid for fucks sake! dina had a whole kid and ellie couldn’t even get to class on time.
“fuck.” she muttered as she placed her keys down. bills upon bills were flooding the kitchen counter. tears burned at her eyes, blurring her eyesight.
i look so pathetic right now. she thought. a slight chuckle leaving her throat at that.
she tried to blink back the tears but she couldn’t, they just kept coming.
her silent whimpers quickly turned to snotty sobs as her chest heaved in and out involuntarily. she placed a heavy hand on her heart as she slid down the kitchen cabinet. soon enough she found herself completely breathless and wailing.
she eventually calmed herself through deep breaths and a cold glass of water. as she does through every panic attack, although the melancholic feeling always lingered.
after joels death ellie could never find herself truly happy. especially not in an environment where he was everything, everytime she turned around she was reminded of the man who wasn’t even her real father.
nothing was really hers.
she made her way down the dark, dusty hallway to her bedroom. desks adorned with pictures of her and joel. she ignored them this time.
she stripped of her uniform and took to the shower. the water burning her skin till it turned red. she scrubbed harshly at her scalp and body. she smelt like grease. gross.
the after shower feeling made her feel a bit better. she grabbed her toothbrush and rinsed it before wiping a glob of colgate toothpaste on the bristles and shoving it in her mouth.
ellie chased sleep for what felt like an eternity. her damp hair scratching at her neck was definitely a part of the problem.
thank god she didn’t work saturdays..
the first 30 seconds of ellie’s day were complete bliss, usually. but not today.
today ellie woke up to the obnoxious sound of a child crying. she decided right then and there that the universe hates her and wants her to die. (but she thinks that about everyone in her life..)
she scoffs and walks over to the curtains, her own padded feet already annoying her.
she peeks out the curtain only to be met with a u-haul and an suv parked in the driveway next door.
new neighbors, how wonderful. and they had a whiny kid! perfect.
she continues watching out the window until she sees you hand off the kid to its father. her eyes follow you until you step into the u-haul and start dragging boxes out. that’s when she sighs and decides to get ready for the day. even though she doesn’t want to.
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your entire life you were desperate to be equal. to be taken seriously. you craved maturity.
you spent your entire childhood chasing adulthood. you were desperate to grow up. you didn’t know it then, but you would regret it.
the one thing you didn’t regret, was felix. the baby that you got out of your last relationship. that was before you realized you were very much a lesbian..
“cmon baby, just put your shoe on.” you struggled against the child in the backseat as he wailed. the sound was excruciating.
“please- can you just let mommy put your shoe on?” you gritted as you attempted to shove the shoe onto her other foot.
“no!” he screamed, almost directly into your face. that was it.
“you know what? fuck it.” you muttered the last words under your breath. truthfully you already weren’t setting a good example, but hey! let not say fuck infront of our kid!
you gave up on the shoes and shushed him gently as you undid his seatbelt from his car seat. you placed him in the arms of his father, tossing the shoe into his dinosaur covered backpack.
he slowly came down from his tantrum as he placed his head on his dads shoulder.
“you sure you don’t need me to help unpack?” your ex asks, unsure of leaving you behind with an entire house to furnish.
“yep! i’m good!” you smile. you gently kiss your baby’s forehead before shutting your car door.
the father nods in response. “just text if you need and we will be here. isn’t that right felix?” he asks the child who nods profusely.
“of course mama!” he shouts causing you and his dad to laugh. “well alright then!” you rush, it was still early but you were eager to get to your gardening before dark.
you watch as your ex buckles the kid in and situated himself in the car, before pulling out of the driveway he rolls down felixs window.
you blow kisses as the pull out of the driveway and take off to ‘the old house’ in your sons words.
as soon as the car is out of sight you make your way over to the U-Haul.
you’re so focused on getting this last box out of the truck that you don’t even feel the presence creep up behind you.
“hey did you need some hel-”
“what the fuck!”
you jump in fear before turning around. being faced with a red headed, green eyed girl.
“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” she apologizes calmly. an awkward look on her face as you stare at her wide eyed.
you chuckle lightly before putting your hands on your hips. “it’s alright, hon.” you reassure.
you two just awkwardly stare at eachother for a few seconds before ellie finally speaks up again.
“i saw you struggling. did you want some help?” she asks. her eyes drifting to the box filled with gardening tools.
“oh that would be amazing!” you said before wiping the sweat of your forehead.
ellies eyes follow a droplet of seat down your neckline all the way down your cleavage. she finds herself licking her lips
before you introduce yourself.
she darts her eyes back up to your own, praying that you didn’t see her blatantly check you out. “i’m- i’m ellie.” she jumps over her words.
since when did you not know how to speak, idiot? she internally face palms before walking over to pick up the box.
“where do you want this?” she asks with a grunt as she steadys the box in her arms.
“just over here” you direct, letting her follow you as you walked over to the side of the house. she follows you and sets the box down with ease. she jokingly wipes the dirt off of her hands before nodding and starting to walk off.
“oh sweetie! i don’t wanna be a bother but would you mind helping me with one more thing?”
you must’ve been magic because somehow you swindled ellie into helping you with almost everything, and she was totally fine with it.
currently you were both at your kitchen island, laughing over a bottle of wine.
ellie had confided in you about school and you had rambled to her about what it’s like to be a mother.
“yeah, i mean- besides pregnancy it’s not all that bad.” you admit. ellie’s face shifts at the mention of pregnancy.
“i don’t know if i could ever have a baby inside me. i think i’d like- die.?” she questions. “not that i would of course” she giggles. your face becomes a look of confusion.
“no boyfriend? or just not one for kids?” you ask. you totally forgot that it’s very possible for her to be-
“i’m a lesbian” she answers and takes another sip of wine. her eyes watching your face for any negative reaction.
you clap your hands over your mouth quickly. now it seems obvious.
“i am so sorry, that totally slipped my mind.” she laughs at your attempts to redeem yourself.
“it’s totally chill, don’t worry.” she reassures, a smile on her face.
“i am too, actually.” you admit, it was your first time admitting it to someone other than yourself of your now ex husband.
“oh i was just gonna ask if that was your husband out there earlier.” she fidgets with the rings on her fingers as she asks.
“well, ex. it’s not easy to find a baby sitter that actually takes care of my kid these days.” you admit to her. she ponders for a slight moment before speaking up again.
“well, if you’re looking. i’m usually free during the day, i work nights most of the time.” she offers up. she wasn’t really sure why. she wasn’t even a fan of kids.
“really?!” it looks like your eyes had bulged out of your head. “god that would be amazing! i’ll pay you!”
ellie didn’t hear anything besides ‘i’ll pay you’ that’s all she needed to know.
“yeah of course. i’ll take him.” she confirmed.
that night ellie left with your phone number and a smidge of hope in her heart.
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silverynight · 23 hours
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Dynamight's type
Izuku has noticed that whenever someone asks Katsuki's certain questions during interviews he gets really irritated; it's usually things about love and relationships that bother him the most.
It's one of the many reasons why Izuku hasn't told his best friend he likes him romantically; maybe Katsuki is not interested in romance at all or he just hates sharing his love life with the world.
Although it's not like Izuku ever thought he had a chance; he probably doesn't. Sometimes he thinks about looking for someone to start a relationship with.
"Let's move in together," Katsuki tells him for the... actually, Izuku has lost count of how many times he has told him that.
But Izuku always thinks he doesn't mean it because it doesn't make sense.
"Why?"
"Just because..." Katsuki says this time, looking particularly frustrated.
"We don't have the need to," Izuku points out, getting a little bit confused by his friend's response.
"I know."
"Kacchan... what if one of us starts dating soon? Wouldn't that be–"
The look Katsuki throws at him is enough to make Izuku shut up immediately; the other pro hero not only looks angry, he also seems hurt.
"Are you seeing someone?" The way Katsuki asks the question makes it look like each word is hurting him somehow.
"No, but–"
"I'm not going to start dating an extra!" Katsuki growls and, as usual, he walks away more irritated than when the day started.
Izuku honestly doesn't get it.
However, he usually goes back to normal when his patrol begins.
Until a reporter finds him after an incident; just right the moment after Katsuki and Izuku manage to save a group of people from a villain.
Actually, there are a couple of reporters, one of them even tries to corner Izuku and instead of asking him about the villain or the civilians, she asks Izuku about romance.
Alright, Izuku has started to get why Katsuki gets irritated at those type of questions.
"Are you dating someone at the moment, Deku?" The young woman asks, smiling at him and using one of her fingers to play with her own hair.
Izuku doesn't understand; is she nervous?
"Uhh... no."
"That's great!"
Not that far from him, one of the reporters is asking about Katsuki's type... again.
"So what would your ideal date be, Deku?" The reporter manages to draw Izuku's attention away from his friend.
"Maybe an amusement park? Sharing a crepe?" The green haired hero doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, but interviews always make him feel flustered.
"That'd be a perfect date for me too!" The girl says. "Would you like to–"
"DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW MY FUCKING TYPE?" Katsuki's loud voice cuts off the reporter who's interviewing Izuku.
"Of course, Dynamight!" It's a good thing most of the reporters are used to Katsuki's explosive personality already.
Instead of answering right away, Katsuki gets closer to Izuku and to everyone's surprise, grabs the other pro hero's freckled face and kisses him on the lips.
"There. That's my type!" Katsuki growls as Izuku's face turns completely pink. "Him. Only this nerd. Now, fuck off!"
The female reporter who was asking Izuku questions looks particularly upset about what happened, although it seems like she's a little bit reluctant to go... but she does anyway when she notices Katsuki is glaring at her.
Izuku doesn't get his hopes up, because it's obvious that Katsuki only wanted them to stop asking questions about his love life.
"But Kacchan... they're going to think we are–"
"Move in with me."
"Why?"
It feels like this is not the moment to have the same conversation all over again, but there's something different in Katsuki's eyes this time; he looks determined.
"Because I'm in love with you, oblivious nerd!"
Izuku's face is on fire, he's sure of it; Katsuki just told him he loved him. It almost seems like it's a dream.
"Are you sure, Kacchan?" His voice doesn't sound shaky at all, which is something Izuku feels ridiculously proud of.
"Of course I am! Wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't!"
After a heartbeat in which Izuku thinks about all the time they've been together and tells himself this is going to work, he nods.
"Let's move in together, Kacchan."
Just a year later, Katsuki proposes to him and of course, Izuku can't help but tear up. He's never been so happy before.
***
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lovesodakid · 3 days
Text
shut up and listen
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matt x fem!reader
summary: matt and y/n have had a certain rivalry for years. all the pent up sex frustration finally comes out one night at a party the triplets hosted.
warnings: smuttt…., drinking?, dom!matt (ish). don’t like, don’t read🤷‍♀️.
____________________________________________
influencers and random strangers fill the room as the sound of different songs thump and bounce off of the walls.
the triplets hit 6 million on youtube a couple of weeks ago, so naturally, they threw a party to celebrate. since they were in boston when they hit it, they waited until they returned to los angeles to throw it.
i’ve known the triplets since i moved to california around a year and a half ago. nick was the first one to notice me, he replied to one of my instagram stories one sunny friday afternoon, we immediately hit it off. once he heard i was moving to la, he practically begged me to come over sometime to meet his brothers, so after finally getting comfortable in my new apartment in the hectic city, i met them for brunch.
just as expected, nick and i instantly connected. we took up most of the conversations that happened that day. i hit it off pretty well with chris. we have a few of the same interests which allowed us to get along extremely well. matt on the other hand, didn’t speak to me at all. instead, he just glared at me the whole time. if looks could kill, you might as well have buried me feet under right then and there.
after that, the more i got comfortable enough with nick and chris the triplets, the more i began to hang out with them. in the beginning, matt would just vocalize how much he hated my outfit, my shoes, or how my hair was done that day. i wouldn’t give him the time of day, as i’d usually just ignore him.
over time, it became irritating how much he’d talk down on me, so needless to say, i began fighting back. which quickly led to us bickering back and forth all the time as we’d throw rude words and comebacks to each other, in hopes of hurting the other one enough to get them to leave the other alone.
which is what’s happening at this very moment.
-
“god you are so annoying!” i yell as i push him away from me, making my way to the kitchen. i need a drink if im going to be dealing with mr. ‘negative all the time’.
“it’s not my fault you decided to show up in a small ass dress.” matt shouts back over the music, seemingly following closely behind me.
“why does it matter what i show up in? it’s my body. so im pretty sure i have a say-so in what i choose to wear.” i shoot back as i grab a bottle of cheap vodka, pouring it into a plastic throwaway cup.
matt’s face scrunches up in disgust.
“you aren’t getting wasted at my party.”
“no, im getting wasted at your brothers party.” i correct him before patting his shoulder, making my way into the living room.
as i walk further into the living room, i notice nick and a couple of other influencers standing in a hurdle talking to one another. i cautiously make my way towards them in hopes i don’t interrupt on any conversations that may be going on.
“y/n! hey!” nick exclaims excitedly, ushering me over.
“hey!” i gleam back as i stand right beside him.
“are you having fun?” he asks, looking down at me.
“as much fun as i can with mr. ‘big mouth’ always having something to say.” i roll my eyes, obviously talking about matt. who else?
“yeah im sorry about him.” nick says as he gives me an apologetic smile.
i just shrug my shoulders in response as i take a sip of the alcoholic beverage in my cup.
i never really understood why matt didn’t like me. im convinced he’s hated me the second he laid his eyes on me. for what reason? i have no clue. i think he finds happiness in life from making my life miserable every second im around him.
-
as im freely dancing, enjoying the effects of the alcohol. i feel someone come up behind me.
“hey.”
i turn around to meet a cute guy, who looks kind of familiar, but i can’t really place it.
“hi.” i say back, giving him a soft, half lidded smile.
“i don’t think i’ve seen you before, what’s your name?” the blonde haired stranger asks.
“oh-im y/n,” i slur my words. “im friends with the triplets.”
“oh okay.” he nods, eyes scanning up and down my body. which almost immediately makes me regret wearing a dress that my ass hangs out of.
i push my lips into a thin line as i nod back, looking down at my hands as i fiddle with them.
“you wanna go somewhere more quiet? y’know to talk. i can barley hear anything in here.” he suggests, leaning down to hear my response.
it’s as if my body reacts before my brain can even process what the dude is saying before im already nodding and taking his hand for him to lead me to a “quieter place”.
he leads me towards the hallway. the hallway where matt’s bedroom, bathroom, and the laundry room is.
we stand outside the bathroom, my back pressed against the door as he stands in front of me.
“so where are you from?” he asks, putting one of his hands beside my head, leaning on it as he lowers his head.
“um…florida..” i answer, hesitantly.
“mhm..” he hums, moving his head closer to mine until his lips barely ghost over mine.
i clear my throat in hopes of sending him a message that im clearly not interested in making out in front of the bedroom of the person i despise the most. or just the fact im not interested in making out at all.
when i feel him backing up, i let out a sigh of relief until i notice he didn’t back up on his own, except with a little bit of help.
“hey there.” matt happily says. clear sarcasm coming from his mouth, as well as written all over the fake smile on his face.
“what’s up!” the blonde dude chirps back, clearly not noticing matt’s fake ass nice tone.
“not much man..you know,” matt glances at me before leaning over to whisper something in the dudes ear.
whatever matt told him, must’ve changed his mind about what he planned on doing for the rest of his life or some shit because the dude just mutters a quick “okay yeah” before practically sprinting back into the living room.
i furrow my eyebrows as i look at matt, who now stands directly in front of me.
“what the hell was that?” he shouts at me, pure anger written all over his face.
“what?” i ask in disbelief as i cross my arms.
“you were just going to fuck some dude while you’re drunk? at my house?” he spits, leaning down to my level. “not to mention right in front of my bedroom?”
needless to say, im shocked. completely and utterly shocked. because, why would mr. ‘i can’t stand you’ now suddenly care what i do?
“what the fuck do you mean?” i voice back. “i wasn’t going to fuck him! let alone fuck him here, and i’m not even that drunk matt.”
i notice a small wave of relief flashing across his face before it turns right back to anger.
“you’re drunk enough,” he begins. “who knows what would’ve happened if i wouldn’t have stepped in. oh wait, i do. you would’ve fucked him! then i would have to listen to you crying in the morning about how you screwed some dude you don’t even know.” he states in a matter-of-factly voice.
once again, i stare at him in disbelief.
“matt-no the fuck i wouldn’t-“ i try to say, before im completely cut off.
“oh my god y/n,” he starts. “won’t you just fucking shut up and listen (lol) for once!” he shouts angrily, his hand coming up to wrap around my throat.
if i wasn’t already fully pressed against the bathroom door, i am now.
“matt?” i squeak out, trying to ignore the pooling in my underwear.
“what?” he breathlessly chuckles, leaning closer to my face.
i don’t say anything, not that i even can. i just stare at him, complete confusion written on my face.
“got nothing to say now huh?” he speaks condescendingly, leaning his head down dangerously close to my throat.
for some reason, i don’t make any efforts to get him away from me. i don’t want to push him away for once in my life.
“hm?” he hums, his lips slightly grazing over the sweet spot right under my ear.
i clear my throat, in hopes of mustering up some way to speak before i feel his mouth harshly biting down on the spot.
“oh-fuck!” i slightly yell, more in surprise than anything as he continues sucking on my neck that’s going to more than likely leave a spot in the morning.
“mhmm.” he hums once again, sending vibrations through my throat.
he removes the hand around my neck to place it on my hip as he puts his other hand on the side of my face, moving his mouth to the base of my throat, planting kisses along the path.
“matt..” i whine breathlessly as he moves his kisses upwards.
they move up my throat. then up to my chin, then once they reach my mouth he stops. just hovering over them before he speaks.
“give me permission y/n.” he whispers.
i nod, almost to quick for my liking.
“words, i need words.” he whispers again, this time sounding a little more desperate as he stares into my eyes, moving his hand from the side of my face to under my chin, lifting it up.
those damn eyes.
“y-yes matt.” i barely get out before his lips are already on mine.
his lips are soft. insanely soft. his pace? not as much.
i can barley keep up with him as his lips move against mine in a rapid movement. both of his hands slide down my sides, wrapping around my back before moving down to gently to grab my ass, causing me to let out a quick gasp, in which he takes advantage of to quickly slip his tongue into my mouth.
he pulls me away from the bathroom door, walking me backwards towards his room. he opens the door and walks me in, kicking the door behind him, our lips not breaking contact once.
he continues backing me up until i feel the back of my legs hit his bed, in which he puts a hand on my chest, slightly pushing me back which causes me to collapse onto his bed. him wasting no time in crawling right on top of me.
“matt..” i whine, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer to me.
“what baby?” he coos. rubbing his hand on my face, pushing my hair off my forehead.
“i need you.” i speak softly, unable to ignore the continuous pulsing between my thighs.
which causes him to let a cocky grin spread across his face.
“i know.” he says, reconnecting our lips.
his hands run down my sides, before going lower, reaching the hem of my dress.
“god this dress..”, he huffs, looking down at it. “you look gorgeous baby, but i need it off.”
i quickly nod before he begins pushing it up further. once it’s scrunched up on my waist, my black laced thongs are on complete display for him.
he grins, running his hand down my lower abdomen, stopping right above panty line. which subconsciously makes me buck my hips upwards.
“hey hey..patient baby, okay?” he softly says, pushing me back down.
he continues pushing up my dress as i raise up slightly so he can push it over my head completely.
once its discarded somewhere on the floor of his bedroom, he leans up as he looks down at me. taking notice of my now matching black lace bra and thong.
“matt..” i whimper, needing something. anything.
“shh, let me look at you.” he runs his hands all over my body as he stares at me. like an animal does at its prey before completely demolishing it, eating it alive.
and with that he leans back down, placing his lips on my neck. he moves his lips down my throat, onto my collarbone. making a few pit stops to suck here and there, before moving down to one of my breasts, kissing the top of the exposed skin as the rest is covered by my bra. causing me to let out a breathless moan, arching my back into him.
it’s not covered for long though as he’s reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. once it’s off, he throws it somewhere behind him. focusing his attention back onto my breasts, admiring them.
“you’re perfect.” he whispers before leaning back down, taking my right nipple into his mouth.
“oh my- god matt!” i loudly moan at the sudden motion, reaching my hand up to entangle it into his hair.
he groans as he swirls his tongue around the bud. once he’s decided that’s enough for one side, he quickly moves to my left breast, showing it the same amount of affection.
he stays there for a second before lifting his mouth away from me to hover over me. locking eyes with me, he lowers back down, peppering kisses down the valley of my breast.
he makes his way down my stomach, painfully slowly. leaving soft kisses in his path. the further he gets down, he places his knees on the floor. as he reaches the top of my panties. he keeps his eyes on mine as he sticks his tongue out, licking across the top of my panty line, causing me to shudder and slightly buck my hips up once again. before he pushes them back down again.
“what’d i say about being patient baby?” he tuts before he leans back, getting a full view of my clothed pussy. he grins noticing a darker spot right in the middle of them. “so wet for me hm?”
he drags one finger over my covered folds. which causes me to let out small line of cuss words. he lets the most shit eating grin spread across his face before he’s hooking his fingers around the waistband of my panties. he slowly pulls them down my legs. once they’re fully off, he takes them in his fist throwing them, this time forward so they land on his nightstand.
“such a pretty pussy.” he muttered before swiftly putting his face in between my thighs.
he left a quick, sweet kiss on my clit, causing my body jump and a soft moan roll off my tongue. before his is swiping through my soaking folds.
he skillfully flicks his tongue against my clit in an up and down motion as his eyes are piercing into mine the whole time. in response, i throw my head back onto his comforter, allowing my back to arch as his name comes out of my mouth plenty enough times to make him groan into my pussy. sending vibrations, enhancing the pleasurable feelings.
i feel my climax building, fast, as my thighs squeeze around his head. my grip tightening on his hair.
“matt…im gonna-“ i try to warn him, before i feel him come completely off of me, backing away.
“not yet you’re not.” he says demandingly as he stands up.
i whimper from the loss of him. before he quickly begins to undress. taking off his shirt, then his pants, then finally, his boxers. his dick happily springs out. the tip completely reddened as it throbs impatiently. pre-cum slightly leaking from the hole.
i almost drool at the sight.
he climbs up me again, spreading my legs with his knee. i guess i had pushed them back together while he was getting himself undressed.
he leans back down, connecting his lips with mine.
our lips dance across one another’s before he slowly begins grinding down on me. his bare dick rubbing between my folds to collect my slick to use as lube.
“matt!” i moan again. his cock rubbing against my clit perfectly.
before he stops again, making me whine once again from the loss.
he reaches his arm out towards his nightstand, opening his drawer as he begins rummaging around for something.
both his hand and head drops in annoyance as he groans into the crook of my neck.
“i don’t have a condom.”
“it’s okay,” i smile. “im on the pill.” i inform him.
he springs up, the widest grin i’ve ever seen taking over his features.
“you have no clue how long ive wanted to do this baby.” he sweetly kisses my cheek.
he leans back, sitting straight up as he looks down at me.
“you ready baby?” he asks, rubbing my stomach in reassurance.
“yes matt.” i let him know.
he looks at me, analyzing my face for any signs that scream ‘i don’t want this’. once he doesn’t find any, he begins pushing his tip inside of me.
his jaw slacks, low moans falling out as he makes his way into me. my jaw mirroring his as my back lifts off the brown bedding.
once he bottoms out, he waits for my sign that he can begin moving. once i nod my head a few times, he’s pulling out, not fully as his tip stays in. he snaps his hips back into mine at a slow pace.
“mm-fuck! matt!” i moan loudly.
“fuck baby-so tight.” he grunts, his head falling back.
he keeps the slow steadily pace for a while. slick sounds and moans filling up the room. thank god there’s a party going on outside, or we’d definitely be caught.
“matt..go faster.” i whine, needing more.
almost in a second, his hips are snapping into mine at a harsh pace. his tip kissing that soft spongey spot causing my walls to pulse around him as lewd moans escape my mouth.
“you sound so fucking good baby.” he lets out in small breathes as he puts all of his weight on top of me, his mouth ghosting my ear.
“all for me, huh?” he asks, condescendingly as he manages to pick up his pace.
which only cause me to let out a loud shriek. he takes that as my response as he leans back up, eyes focused on watching himself slip in and out of me.
“matt! im gonna cum!” i squeal, warning him.
“come on, cum for me.” he groans, picking up his already rapid pace. lowering his hand between our bodies to rub circles on my clit.
almost on command, my walls begin contracting as i let go around his dick. pure euphoria coating my body as i hit my high.
he rides me through my orgasm as he inches towards his own.
“fuck-y/n-“ he begins as his hips sputter before he reaches his high, painting my insides white as i feel his warm liquid shoot inside me.
he collapses onto my chest. we lay there for a few seconds as we catch our breath, until he pulls out. both of us wince from the slight overstimulation.
“let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he whispers, leaving a sweet peck on my cheek.
as he gets up, he picks my hand up, leaving a small kiss on the back of it.
i just slept with the person i despise most.
or do i?
____________________________________________
a/n: first time writing smut so i apologize if it sucks ass 😃. this took way longer than i’d like to admit but i hope u like it. i heavily advise you to listen to the song ‘shut up and listen’ with this. it’s so fucking good.
for the ones that wanted to be tagged: @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss
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ghostchems · 2 days
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infernal - terzo x f!reader - part four
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art by the amazing @piaart!!
author’s note: HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY @angellayercake!! GO TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
so sorry for the delay on this haha. i've been wrestling with this for a while but i'm pretty happy with it now! it is about 4.4k words. part one/two/three. ao3 linky.
Terzo’s house is different at night. The lights are dim and the shadows are long, every long, creaking corridor seemingly ending in a black void. You’ve never been here this late. In fact, you can’t remember what you were just doing… why are you working late? The hardwood floor rasps beneath your shoes as you turn a corner and see him inside the room at the end of the hallway, sprawled out across a plush purple couch. Terzo immediately perks up at the sight of you, propping himself on his elbows, the usual lop-sided grin sitting handsomely on his face. You feel like you float to him and you’re suddenly standing next to the couch, hovering over him. One of his hands crawls up your waist and then loops his arm around you to pull you down on top of him. It’s much more forward than the careful dance the two of you have been doing since the couch incident. You struggle to breathe in his lap, his hands firmly planted on your waist as he leans up to level his eyes with yours.
“This is what you want, si?” He purrs, his hands snaking up your back to hold you close to him, his face an inch away from you. His paint is sharp, more sharp than usual, and he feels hot to the touch, his fingers nearly burning through your shirt. Your heart flutters and you gasp, your mouth dropping open as his stuttered breath hits your lips. “You like me. You want me. You’ve wanted me from the start, haven’t you, puffetta?” You’ve heard him growl before but not like this, not in a low hum that sends a shiver down your spine. Words fail you but you manage to nod. And nod. And nod again before his large hand grabs the back of your head, his fingers knotting in your hair. You nearly moan in anticipation, wanting and needing this so badly, his lips just about to touch yours — so close to finally tasting him.
Instead, you wake up in a cold sweat, your fingers dug into the sheets and drool on your pillow. Your panting and your cheeks are flushed but you slowly start to cool off once you rip the comforter off of you, throwing it to the ground in frustration. Mostly frustration at yourself for continuing to watch videos of your boss performing. You can’t help it. Terzo let you in. He invited you to sit beside him and take a peak into his world. The memorabilia makes sense now, the posters, the photographs, the everything.
And you want to know more.
“Ah, it is really… coming along, eh?” Terzo sounds so sleepy, brushing the hair out of his eyes and gazing out of the kitchen window while his hip rests against the counter. You take a moment to look up from your laptop and out the window as well, silently taking in the improvements that have been made under your care. The grass is a lush green, a hammock underneath the only tree in the yard, now trimmed and shaped to actually resemble one. A patio with a stylish dark grey conversation set beneath a hardtop gazebo is just to the left of the window, nestled in a corner of the yard. The garden still needs some work but there are two small raised beds in the back corner, where the sun shines the most, and a few spots already reserved for jalapeno peppers at Terzo’s insistence. You turn back to look at him, unable to fight off the blush that rises to your cheeks.
“Do you like it?” There’s a lilt in your voice, lips pulling into a small smile. It makes him melt a little bit.
“Si, yes. It is much nicer than it was before…” He trails off as he slinks closer to you only to keep his gaze settled on the yard. “We must have spritz’s outside one of these nights.”
“Spritz?”
“Ehhh, it’s like rosso arancio — orangey **drink with ice cubes and, uhhhh, ah! Served in a wine glass.” His mannerisms make you smile even more. You feel like a fool and you’re sure you look like one but you can’t help it. Your dream intensified your feelings, making it nearly impossible to hide them at this point. Is it so bad? To have a crush on your weird, retired-rockstar boss?
“Oh, like in White Lotus?” You rest your chin on your hands and flutter your eyes at him. Terzo flashes a bright smile but you can see in his eyes that he has no idea what you’re talking about. Silence lingers with him hovering just above you, your eyes locked. The moment is interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. “Oh shit, the landscaper!” You grab your phone and hurry out of the kitchen and toward the backyard.
Terzo keeps his eyes on the yard, slipping his hands in his robe pockets as he waits for you to appear. You caught him off guard this morning, your dreamlike gaze and easy smile making it impossible for him to be anything other than endeared to you. He’s almost relieved for the interruption because of how close he was to breaking the tension, wanting nothing more than to shove his fingers down your throat and watch those bright eyes widen with shock. You come into view with the landscaper trailing behind you, looking over your shoulder with a smile as you use your hand to sweep across the landscape with your finger ending up pointing to some brush that needs to be cleared. Terzo has spent so much time just watching you operate and he hasn’t tired of it, which is a feat due to his relatively short attention span. In fact, he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it.
You’re a natural with people. You always have a cheery smile, a nice greeting and some banter to lighten things up. He’s been so shut-in, his only company either you or his own voice, that watching genuine human interaction makes him swoon hard for you. His mind drifts to the times when he used to be social and how it used to fuel him, how it used to keep him going even after his Papacy fell apart.
What fuels him now? His gaze falls to where you had been sitting and his attention is immediately captured. You left you laptop open.
Terzo has always been nosy, even during his days at the Abbey. He can’t help but allow his eyes to focus on your email inbox that you foolishly left open. How many secrets could be in your inbox? What could he find out about you through what’s there? Terzo resists. He truly does for a split second. But he just cannot help himself. He slinks into the wooden kitchen chair you are set up at and pulls his glasses out from his robe pocket. He clicks on the first thing he sees: Banana Republic and is disappointed that it is only clothes. One of the male models catches his attention, though.
His outfit, specifically. A henley and a cardigan, matched tastefully with a pair of sweatpants. Terzo wonders if this is the kind of style you like. He pulls out his phone and opens the Banana Republic website but freezes when he hears faint footsteps. Terzo scrambles out of your chair, only to settle close by, leaning against a nearby wall and pretending to be hopelessly distracted by his phone (aka, staring at cardigans).
You enter the kitchen and can’t help by eye him suspiciously, the look on his face perhaps just a bit too aloof. He keeps scrolling lazily and starts to lean backward, all too aware of your gaze. It lingers for a moment before you sit back down, knitting your brows together at the email open on your screen. Then, you see that it’s up to 50% off all items which could be combined with clearance items and you’re clicking the link, getting lost in the undeniable pull of online shopping. Terzo gives a dramatic huff and leaves the room, desperately trying to hide how tickled he is.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, unable to hide a grimace. This is silly. Today is date day. You ended up texting Dylan. How could you not? Something you’ve longed for since you were a girl was offered up to you on a silver platter. So — why aren’t you more excited? Instead, Terzo is on the mind. It feels like he’s consumed your whole life as of late, spending your days in his home working for him and now he’s seeped into your home time. You haven’t allowed yourself to fully go down the rabbit hole, sticking only with the videos he had shown you in his home despite your YouTube recommendations now being full of him but also… other videos of different singers and musicians under the same band name. Of course, you couldn’t ask despite your curiosity — it’s obviously something of a sore subject and he’s only just started opening up to you more about that time of his life. The last thing you want to do is press him on something so personal and painful to him.
But now you have to live with this knowledge.
You try to push the thought from the forefront of you mind, instead focusing on yourself in the mirror again. A black shift dress hugs your figure and you have your red scarf, your favorite scarf, loose around your neck. How are you supposed to dress for this occasion? A date after work? It’s impossible to put together an appropriate outfit for both. But also — who are you kidding? The idea of Terzo seeing you in a dress has you anxious in more ways than one. No one needs an excuse to wear a dress but for some reason you feel guilty. Guilty that this dress isn’t for him. Maybe… a little bit disappointed, too. But you should give Dylan a shot, right?
“Right?” Oh, you are anxious.
Something catches your eye in your mirror, your gaze slowly trailing toward it. Your red scarf. You hum in thought for a moment and then turn to snatch it off your dresser, quickly looping it around your neck. Immediate relief washes over you, something about the scarf soothing your nerves. Could be because it makes you think of the way warm knuckles brushed along your cool neck. A shiver runs down your spine and your cheeks flush from the thought. Fuck. You have to pull yourself together. Time to focus on work, on getting shit done to distract yourself from… well everything.
Meanwhile, Terzo is having a similar time looking at himself in disbelief. It’s the most put together he’s tried to be since his days as Papa. He sits on the edge of his bed, one hand on each knee, his toes tapping on the ground in front of him. The amount of thought that has gone into this outfit is silly, even though he basically bought exactly what the model was wearing. Now his thoughts have turned to how should he be sitting when you arrive? See? It’s silly*.* He almost ashamed of how **you’ve wormed your way into his cold, broken heart **when **that was not his plan. You’re supposed to be obsessed with him, waiting on him hand and foot while kissing the ground he walks on. Instead he’s fallen for you. How embarrassing. But how could it have been avoided?
Terzo rests his palms on either side of his bed as he leans back and spreads his legs, sharp eyes examining his position for a beat. Too forward? An amused grin flickers across his face at the thought of you reacting to him like this. Definitely too forward. He tilts his head and adjusts himself with care, back straightening out and he crosses his legs. Closer but not quite. Terzo stares at his own reflection, admiring his paint for the day. Every time he sees himself he wonders why he still applies it everyday. Perhaps it’s a comfort thing, makes him feel like he’s important again. Like he’s Papa.
He wonders if he’ll ever hear you call him that.
Terzo takes a deep breath and exhales with a rumble, his eyes falling shut. You would do anything he asked, wouldn’t you? His mouth splits into a grin as he runs his slender fingers through his hair. Eyes open slowly, gaze focusing on his reflection. Strands of hair had fallen into his face and his head overall looking stylishly unkempt. More giggles.
Perfect.
Some mornings it’s like you blink and you’re at Terzo’s home. Not this morning. You are hyper aware of every stoplight, every Dunkin Donuts as your commute drags out to the second. Too much alone time with your overactive brain plotting out kind of every situation where something could go wrong with the date or work today and coming up with attack plan after attack plan to fix the issue. Not fun. After what feels like an eternity, you pull through the eerie wrought iron gate and travel down the long, tree lined driveway. Tension fills your chest as you come to a slow stop. It’s just one weird day that you have to get through.
You got this.
Terzo is already in the foyer by the time you walk through the door which is unlike him, usually spending most mornings in bed or somewhere else dark and comfy until he can no longer tolerate his caffeine withdrawal headache. He’s balancing his coffee cup on his thigh, one hand resting behind his head while the other scrolls through his phone. Your feet come to a stop, blinking a few times to ensure what you’re seeing is real, having never seen him this clothed before*.* He’s still in sweatpants but they taper down to his ankles and he’s wearing a pair of moccasins, his hair expertly tousled and reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a white henley that is artfully unbuttoned to expose his thick chest hair and a cozy navy blue cardigan draped over his slinky shoulders. Only his eyes are painted — giving you the chance to finally see his bare face, smooth olive skin wrinkled with age. You stare at him silently. He looks like he’s come directly out of a magazine. Terzo head tilts to face you, his eyes still focused on his phone until they unhurriedly drag away from the screen to settle on you.
“Ammazza…” The word is an impassioned whisper. He’s stunned, eyes wide as he looks over your figure with such a deliberate slowness it makes your cheeks burn. Dark eyes settle on your scarf, a smirk tugging on his lips, then his gaze flickers to meet yours. He rises from his seat, one hand clumsily snatching his coffee from his lap to stop himself from spilling, trying to hide his clumsiness with a cough. “Buongiorno mio toppolino… eh, you are wearing a dress?”
“I am. You’re wearing a cardigan.”
“I am.” Terzo purrs and slinks closer to you as he slips his phone into his cardigan pocket. His clumsiness is now replaced by that irresistible lazy swagger you are so familiar with. He lets his eyes wander again, tilting his head while regarding you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest but it’s impossible to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks. “I do not think I can let you start work without a dance, not when you are wearing such a beautiful dress, puffetta.” There’s an undeniable heat in his words. It’s too early for this.
“It’s too early for this, Terzo.” You huff as you avert his eyes, a desperate attempt to not fall under his spell.
“Come now… I don’t want to pull the “boss” card but, eh…?” He sets his coffee down on the table as his other arm brazenly snakes around your waist. Your face is fully red now and your brain is in a deep state of fart but you manage to move with him. This is the exact opposite of what you wanted for today but you find your stress slipping away to focus on the warmth of his fingers from having held his mug of coffee. He guides your hand to his chest then slips his bare hand along your other arm until he laces his fingers in yours and raises them to lead the way. Terzo is taller than you, not by much but he still looms over you, those piercing eyes never leaving yours. He starts to slowly sway to imaginary music as your cheeks burn, your chest impossibly warm but you start to loosen up, especially as his movements grow more fluid. “There is always time for a little dance, eh?” Terzo leans in close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your lips then rests his cheek against your temple with a hum.
And you thought cuddling on the couch was intimate. You feel every inhale and exhale, his humming gradually growing stronger in your ear. His cool lips and warm breath giving you goosebumps. Cirice. You recognize it from your be various videos you’ve watched but bite your tongue and enjoy him. This may not be a stage in front of thousands of people but it definitely feels like a demonstration of some kind. Or he could just be pushing the boundary like the creeper he is and you’re eating. it. up. The last time you slow danced was at your senior prom with your date who was on probation — unbeknownst to you at the time he asked you. Somehow this is far less awkward than that. His arm around your waist starts to shift upward, his large hand pressing up your back. He lifts his head but is still only a breath away, his smile lines deep as his gaze meets yours. Your heart stirs in your chest, air caught in your lungs but before you get swept up in the moment he changes the tone.
Terzo starts singing, more energetic and loud as he leads you from the foyer into the den. You nearly trip over yourself when he twirls you, picking up the pace to be more jaunty, more goofy. But even with the fun movements you are extremely aware of his hand on the small of your back, fingertips pressing against you every so often. He’s smiling so wide that it makes it hard for you to hold it together. All of your worries about the day are gone, though — replaced by being completely entranced by him. You know just how special this song is to him, the moments he had on stage with fans, holding their hands and kissing their knuckles. And now he has you in his arms.
“I am going to dip you now.”
“You’re going to wha--?!” You squeal as he dips you, your hand frantically gripping onto his shoulder. He doesn’t drop you though, instead pulling you back to your feet with his toned arms curling around your back. You stop breathing, your chests touching and a strand of his hair brushing against your forehead from how close the two of you are.
“Mm… you are a good dance partner, you know? Easy to lead.” Is he trying to kill you today? Terzo gives you some space but still sways with you, the dance feeling more like… more like standing very close to one another waiting for something to happen. “You spoiled me today with wearing this dress.”
And a punch to your gut. Extreme guilt builds inside you and you can’t stop the distress from being all over your face.
“Oh…oh, puffetta, I am sorry, am I making you uncomfortable or—?” You cut him off with a sigh and take a step away from him, your eyes closing to give yourself time to collect your feelings while his arms fall from around you.
“No, I’m sorry. Ugh, this is so weird. I’m… I have a date after work today. So that’s what the dress is for.” There is no air in your lungs. Everything is so strained. “But you… this…” A flutter in your chest. “I like it. I’m… sorry this dress isn’t for you.” Do you even need to be apologizing? The answer would be no if it was anyone else other than him.
His face is stone cold, so different than the joy that had radiated from him just moments ago. The smile is gone and his brows are furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. You think you’re going to, ummm, die? All you can do is stare back at him, eyes incredibly wide and worry etched across your face. What is he thinking? Why is he taking so long?
One of Terzo’s hands lunges forward and grabs you by the back of your neck, his thumb pressed hard right below your ear. A surprised yelp, grasping for his sleeve and his shirt as his grip on you only tightens. His lips crush against your mouth, tongue forcing it’s way inside. He tastes like spiced coffee. The kiss is ferocious, you feel like you’re disappearing into it, mind blank but fingers digging into the fabric of his cardigan. Terzo’s teeth graze your bottom lip as he pulls away, a fiery look in his eyes.
“Do not forget who you belong too.” A low, vicious growl with bared teeth, pointed fangs glistening in the morning light. He uses his strength to push you down to your knees by your neck, your legs now trembling beneath. Speechless, you can’t look away from him now. Silence stretches between you. And then… he leaves and doesn’t spare you another glance.
You think you are broken. There’s an ache, a primal ache between your legs that burns hotter than you’ve ever felt before. Your skin is on fire, your cheeks burning and numb. What the fuck? He kissed you. Your boss kissed you and then spoke to you as if you are his possession. And it makes you want him more than ever before.
How are you going to be able to think about anything else?
Lucky for you, Terzo is MIA for the rest of the day.
You work as if he is standing over you, watching your every move. You don’t want to disappoint him, not now. Not after he kissed you. But the date. Dylan. Oh, Dylan. Caught in the middle of something there is no way he will ever understand. You hover in your text chat with him a few times with intent to cancel on him… but you can’t. He’s the one who got away, the one who you pined for like an idiot throughout half your life. This date could close that book. Or it could be the prologue. You won’t know unless you follow through.
The end of the day rolls around and you can’t help but pause in the foyer on your way out. Your chest tightens. Such a pleasant start to the day only to spiral out of control. You’re almost happy he kissed you before you were able to tell him that your date was picking you up from his house. The front porch creaks beneath your feet, the rotting wood the focus of your work today. Dylan is already there, leaning against his car and he gives you a big wave. You smile and wave back, light on your feet as you head toward him.
“Ma che cazzo…?” Terzo stares in disbelief, watching from his bedroom window as your date opens the passenger side door for you. Rage boils up within him, his hands clutching at the hem of his cardigan. A ceiling light POPS! behind him, green electricity illuminates the room but only for a second. Flames light up the bottom of the curtains, slowly eating away at them until they are completely engulfed. He’s too angry to care. The shy smile you gave your date eats him up inside, churning his stomach and making his nerves spark. The car fades from view and he unleashes an anguished scream as his hands seemingly grow claws, tearing and ripping the cardigan he had so carefully styled that morning. He doesn’t stop until he’s shirtless and surrounded by shreds of fabric. A sloppy wave of his hand somehow extinguishes the flames, leaving him in his room in the dark.
The nerve of you. To flirt, to giggle, to flutter your beautiful, delicate eyelashes at him while entertaining the idea of another man in your mind. A whore for attention, aren’t you? Pain in his chest. He shouldn’t call you a whore. You don’t deserve that. But it hurts, puffetta. Is it because he slacked off? Or that he had gone soft on you? Terzo groans as he sits on his bed, lasting less than a second before he flops onto the mattress and sinks into the mess of covers. He has been too soft, fucking twirling you around the foyer like a lovesick puppy. A romantic at heart always, eh? It was worth it — seeing you smile and blush gives him life, a reason to wake up the next morning because he has nothing else to do. You’ve made this shithole the Ministry saddled him with into a place that actually makes him feel at home. So… maybe he could be somewhat lenient with your punishment.
Electricity crackles in his bones. He is going to spend the rest of the night here, he thinks, casting a glance at his ancient alarm clock. 5:30pm. What else could possibly get him out of bed at this point? Terzo huffs and swings one of his legs over his body to lazily roll over, dragging the covers along with him to successfully burrito himself with a scoff. Another instance in which someone stole the spotlight from him. At least this time it isn’t his decrepit father. He breaks into a wild chuckle.
That would be fucked.
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hollowtones · 3 days
Note
opinions on yoshis story? imo that game doesnt deserve to have music that good
I haven't played very much of it and I've been meaning to do something about that forever. I've played some of it and I've watched others go through most of it.
I know I've seen a little bit of modern grumbling (I don't know if this was a point of contention when the game came out because I was three at the time. OK I looked up some reviews from the era and it looks like it was also a thing people were mad about back then. LOL) over the fact that the game isn't more like "Yoshi's Island" & that it feels like it's aimed more at younger audiences. I dunno. I've never been bothered much by games with some tie to one another doing something different. (Some of the response reminds me of Transformers fans being upset over Hasbro making toys and shows for very young children sometimes; admittedly maybe I'm off the mark here.)
It's a very easy game if you want it to be. You can just eat any fruits you want forever and it's over in a blink. And it's fine. It's fine if the video game lets you beat it very fast if you want to. You can also try to collect only one single kind of fruit in a level and that makes things take longer and makes them feel like more of a scavenger hunt (especially if you're trying to get all the melons). I think that's neat. There's sort of an interesting design trajectory from "Super Mario World" to "Yoshi's Island" where the levels become a little longer, a little more meandering, a little more exploratory, sometimes (not always, and not massively, but it's still there) a little less linear. No time limit. Going for collectibles instead; making every level about getting a score of 100 (if you want to). You can see that iterated on in "Yoshi's Story"! No singular end point of the level. Bigger rooms to explore (while still keeping levels relatively short). More of a focus on puzzle solving and exploration. Collectibles simplified to one meter that you fill up, but there are multiple things that can fill it & you get rewarded for only collecting one kind. (And also the hearts that let you pick what level you go to next. There's a lot of "opening up more of the game for yourself if you want to go out and look for it" here. Are there other collectibles, actually? I don't really remember...) Secret fruits that give even more points. It makes the levels feel more like puzzle box toys that you roam around in. It's neat that they designed that for younger kids and it's neat that you can make it more difficult if that sounds fun to you. (I would have to play more of it myself to decide if going for all melons is fun for me specifically. But I like it on paper, y'know?)
The pop-up storybook theming is cute and the visual aesthetic of the game overall works really well. It feels like arts & crafts dioramas made by kids (or with kids) so they could play pretend with their toys while reading a storybook. It's got very strong toy feel overall. The music is really fun!!! It does the dynamic soundtrack thing where some parts of the track change depending on your health!!! I'm always clapping my hands like a seal with a game's music changes depending what I'm doing!!! Maybe it's a little silly of me to say this, given that it's a sentiment I've had in the past, but nowadays I scratch my head a bit at "the music in this has no right to go this hard" type comments. It goes hard because the musicians got hired to make it like that. (I'm imagining a guy who thinks the "Yoshi's Story" music is the hardest music ever created and I'm smiling serenely about it. I hope he's real & I hope he's out there somewhere.) I'm glad they let Totaka do something that feels at least a little experimental for the goofy Yoshi babies storybook super happy yay & jumping throwing game soundtrack. It's a fun contrast, isn't it? It feels very of-the-era in a way I'm having trouble externalizing outside of "well it's a little weird and multi-genre". It's neat that they all have a shared melody that they draw on.
Thanks for reading my short essay on a childrens' video game I haven't played a lot of yet. I need to go take a shower now.
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albatmobile · 16 hours
Text
parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar
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coming soon: [2] [3] [4] | ao3
𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions
𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper
You hated people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun. 
Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.
Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.
It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you didn't really want there to be a fifth. 
That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.
You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.
The hope is in vain.
Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents. 
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You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” She nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”
Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds.
“Do you?” 
You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on but it always throws you off guard when it happens.
You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”
Her pigtails bounce up and down, “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”
“Atmosphere,” You correct her with an amused smile.
Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know of,” He trails off as if trying to place your face.
Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.
“A person you know of,” You repeat his words with an uninterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.” 
You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” You tell him your last name again sternly.
“You’re killing me, Miss,” He says your last name, obeying your correction. 
“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” You continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.
He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway, “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?”
Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.
You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.
“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” Is all you respond.
You’re fucked.
➸💋➸
The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream. 
Most of your material is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The few production videos you’ve done required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It’s a total hassle. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location. 
The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you. 
The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many possible chances for someone to catch a peak.
You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.
There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.
Always punctual, you start your stream right on time. 
avid_reader began stream 
Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’ 
Private streams are a whole different ballgame. 
Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with, hell, the dude was pretty funny too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one. 
From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.
Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night. 
You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.
inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud 
Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for. 
It’s going to be a good night.
You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts 
inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe
You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway, “I’ve been lucky thus far.”
inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me
He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own. 
“Eager today, aren’t we?”
Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.
You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally puling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully. 
You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.
You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.
No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.
He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better. 
Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something with he way he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist. 
“Fuck,” You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good. 
One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard. 
You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.
“Shit!” 
He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.
ABORT! ABORT!
If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.
You end your stream, shaking and panting while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” You rush, trying to regulate your breathing.
You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.
Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” 
You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.
Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times. 
Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.
This is a lot more than a ‘how are you.’
“I don’t really know how to answer that right now.”
Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”
You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.
While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.
Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.
You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.
"Thanks," You say, hoping he won't bring it up.
Luckily, he doesn’t.
“So,” He draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?” 
You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” You tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.
He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”
“Sorry,” You hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining? 
“I didn’t mean it like that,” He sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”
That name does sound familiar.
“Jason,” You repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.
“That’s the one,” He drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”
“‘M not a kid,” You mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25 for fuck’s sake. 
“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” He jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.
You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” You say.
His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again, “Maybe you will.”
➸💋➸
At open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms result to glaring at you.
It’s what you’re used to.
You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.
Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering emerald gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair. 
The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.
You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.
You need a fucking drink.
You didn’t plan to go to a club, it’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight it feels right. 
It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.
You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.
There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…
It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way. 
Green eyes meet your wide ones.
It is Jason.
Do you make the first move, or does-
Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.
“Hey,” You say as his hulking form sits down beside you.
“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.
You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.
Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.
“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” He takes a coy sip of his whiskey.
“I really am sorry,” You apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-"
You start to ramble but he cuts you off gently.
“Trust me, I didn’t mind,” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?”
You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.
“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” You bite lightly at your lower lip. 
“You do like public places, don’t you?” You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.
“I do,” You agree with a light smile.
“There’s an alley out that door,” He offers lowly.
It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.
His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” He says suddenly. “You left your purse.”
You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.
You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops, but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.
“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly.
Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”
His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying a gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” He groans when he shifts up your dress.
He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.
You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.
“Fuck!” You buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.
His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.
It feels so fucking good.
All of a sudden, there’s a loud ‘thump’ that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.
“Ma’am,” A gruff voice startles the two of you. “Are you alright?”
Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused. 
Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.
Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you. 
The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.
“I thought she was in trouble,” He trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.
They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason’s lulling you back in.
Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you, “Are you good with this?”
You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.
Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.
You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.
He’s hot.
“I don’t care if you touch yourself,” The words are out of your mouth before you can realize it. 
It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.
You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand. 
Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer, his lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” You whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that.” With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”
It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite your lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans, “Would you want me to-?”
“Fuck yeah,” He breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.
Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire.
You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”
“Shit,” He groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” He teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust. 
“A time or two,” You jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb. 
The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never leaving you.
“Want to taste her come?”
The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.
You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.
“You taste so good,” The other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” He mumbles again, completely lost in you.
You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.
“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes. 
You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation, “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits.”
“Fair enough,” He mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.
Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.
Definitely have to wash that when you get home.
Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants. 
Jason sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.
When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip. 
You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:
inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)
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A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest
if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)
[next: coming soon] || pinned
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mischiefmoons · 6 hours
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omggg hope you had a great birthday!! do u mind writing a remus x reader who realize there’s smth more than friends between them, thank youuu
🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥
a/n: gn!reader truly idk how this escaped me. me writing for my long lost husband in the year of our lord 2024?? this was so fun it felt like reuniting with an ex anyways fluff incoming
wc: don't... look at me... 1.3k
“So?”
“So what, Prongs?” Remus huffs, flipping through a textbook. Merlin knows why he even tries to study in the common room with the boys when all they do is badger him about nonsense.
“So are you and your little friend, well…more than friends? You two are attached at the hip, so where’d the little one run off to?” James teases, whacking his best mate with a throw pillow, “Get tired of you moaning and groaning about prefect duties?”
Well, that’s…you’re definitely not nonsense.
Remus blinks, brushing his hair away from his face and glaring at James before elbowing him straight in the gut. Tosser he is, acting like he knows anything about you or relationships in general when he’s been pining after Lily for years now.
You two are just friends.
Sirius lets out a loud laugh from his place at Remus’ feet. He’s leaning against the arm of the sofa, looking up at the sandy-haired boy with a cock-eyed grin, “If they were more than friends, Moony’s moaning and groaning would be appreciated and reciprocated, don’t you think?”
Peter snickers from the loveseat across the table. It doesn’t help with Remus’ mood, so he buries his head deeper into the boring History of Magic text, grumbling, “Don’t be crass. Just friends, is all. Don’t look too hard into it or you’ll melt what’s left of your brains.”
The three instigators look at each other, before looking back at their best friend. Just friends, he says. Sure, Remus’s the nicest guy around—a prefect even; the one that people count on to be the most morally sound out of all of them, the guy that people borrow notes from, politely laughs at jokes and makes people feel included in conversations. Sure, friends—they can believe that! Everyone wants to be Moony’s friend. But it’s the way they’ve seen him treat you that stands out.
Remus usually lags behind them now, breaking apart their formation in the halls (and yes, Sirius likes to be at the front of the diamond), pushing Peter up so he can wait for you after class. Also, anyone that could distract him from taking notes in Arithmancy is surely a force to be reckoned with (and a threat to Peter’s grades). He’s even gone as far as sidling up next to you during Potions and breaking their age-old rotation of picking partners since their first year (which left James with a botched Aging Potion, and Lily laughing at him as he limped out of class with graying hair and a hunchback).
So things were different nowadays, but one thing is for sure: Remus Lupin’s favorite game is being in denial.
“Maybe your friend knows about your furry little problem, Moons. Surely you really don’t think you’re gonna get any studying done with us?” James chuckles, before pushing his glasses up to clearly see the blush blossoming on Remus’s cheeks. Though it might also be anger, he couldn’t really tell—they’ve never seen him like this, ever; so blatantly obvious with how he feels about you even though he’d never admit it. It was quite refreshing to remember that Remus is still a normal teenage boy.
“You’re right, Prongs,” he huffs.
“I am?”
“I don’t know why I even bothered to try and study with you lot if all of you are too focused on me instead of studying!” Remus is shoving his books into his knapsack as the boys continue to rib at him to get him to stay. This essay isn’t going to write itself.
“Just playing, Moons!”
“Yeah mate, if you need an actual study date we know that’s not us, just hang around!”
Remus sighs as he’s looking at his friends' shit-eating grins as they go around him showing each other the map and pointing at something.
“What now?”
There’s a knock at the portrait, and the Fat Lady’s shrill voice could be heard from where they were sitting. Peter jumps up, sticking his face over the enchanted parchment as he giggles a bit like a schoolgirl, “It’s for you. Your friend’s outside.” They all cheer and laugh at Remus shaking his head, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder walking quickly away from them.
When he sees you chatting with the Fat Lady, it’s almost as if he’s in a stupor, studying every inch of your face until your eyes finally meet his and you grin and wave at him.
Just friends, he reminds himself.
“Hey Rem! Was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the library together?”
Your voice is a treat in itself, he thinks—the lilt and manner of it so sweet and rich it almost reminds him of his favorite chocolate.
Good thing he has a sweet tooth.
Walking down the hallway together your hand bumps into his several times in passing, fingers ghosting against each other as if they were dancing, too close and then too far. Friends can hold hands right? Remus’s heart flutters as he thinks of the possibility like solving an Arithmancy problem. He supposes the boys and him don’t necessarily hold hands, but he imagines holding yours would be way nicer.
Is he sweating?
His palms are sweaty, forget it, and you’re just friends! You’re telling him about your day like you both haven’t seen each other in years, but he even sat by you at lunch earlier, much to the rest of the Marauders’ surprise. Though Remus supposes you could even make Divination sound interesting—maybe even make him look in the stupid tea leaves to see if you’re in his future, furry little problem and all. He realizes he’s been staring a second too long, bumping into you lightly as you stop in front of the library.
“Haha, you okay? You’re quiet today, Rem. Something on your mind?”
A lot about you, apparently, thanks to his meddling friends.
Remus scratches the nape of his neck as he grimaces, cheeks reddening again and instead of a response, he opens the door for you and puts his finger to his mouth as if to say “Shhhh….” before Madam Pince starts a fit at either of you. That, or him actually having to say how he feels.
How he feels… Well…shit.
You make a beeline for an open table near the corner, tugging at his wrist like it’s not making his heart beat out of his chest and Remus tries to compose himself, but then you look at him with your pretty fluttering eyelashes and he knows he’s utterly fucked. Pulling out your chair for you, you squeeze his arm in thanks and scooch your chair closer to his.
“Rem?”
“Hmm?” he responds, a strangled noise crawling up his throat as he coughs slightly, his arm landing on the back of your chair before he panics then realizes he’d look like an arse for pulling away.
Not that he wants to.
“How did you know?”
His heart genuinely stops. There’s no way you’ve caught on that quickly—especially not with him just realizing how he feels about you, his friend that he wants to be more and there is nothing casual about what he wants to d—
“How’d you know I was at the common room? You walked out just as I was about to walk in, I thought it was kinda funny,” you giggle, brushing your hair behind your ear and he takes a deep breath.
You’re just friends. But he definitely wants to be more.
“The boys told me it was you,” Remus says, chewing on his lip, “Apparently they had a feeling.”
And now, so does he.
What’s worse is that Remus hates admitting when they’re right (which is rare enough in itself, he’ll never hear the end of it from their inflated egos).
What’s worst of all is that for the first time in his Hogwarts career, Remus Lupin ends up submitting an essay late.
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hotchlove · 1 day
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Trustworthy | Reader X Aaron Hotchner
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hi!!! welcome to my first one-shot fanfic :) i had a blast writing this and hope u'll have even more fun reading it.
• i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, anytype of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • trustworthy - 3.1k+ words (i got carried away D:) • desc.: - quite a bit of angst - probable inaccurate description of readers job - happy ending ♡
• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •
it's been about five or six months since i've joined the behavioral analysis unit in the fbi. it's not like i've been counting the days...
who am i kidding? it's been exactly 191 days - whereas like 2 of those days my boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, was actually nice to me.
those being my first two shifts.
on the third day, i had to make a spontaneous choice whilst on a case - one that, sure, was reckless and stupid and to quote hotch "unprofessional", but i managed to save many unpredictable lives with that choice.
we were on a case in miami, a state the team hasn't visited yet up until that day.
it was a 3h flight but it was a big case, so those hours flew on by as garcia briefed us. a 36 year old mother recently lost her teenage child to the hands of a drunk and supposedly has had hallucinations of her late child telling her to kill other kids, as revenge, i'm guessing - spooky, right?
i suggested manic schizophrenia - clear symptoms and obvious manic signs (the killings). that suggestion kind of cleared the foggy air on the jet. hotch gave me a nod of approval and i felt pretty damn proud of myself, it was only my third day after all.
on the third and last day, we finally cornered the woman on a traffic free highway. she had no where to run, agents were surrounded all around her - but she was holding a shotgun. the simple way out would've been having one of our federal snipers shoot her - but i couldn't let that happen. she killed the children of many, and letting her die a painless and simple death just didn't feel right.
i swatted the snipers away, the red laser that was planted on her forehead now gone. i throw my gun on the floor and pretend to surrender, hands up. "you remind me of my mother." i tell her, my arms up.
"Y/N." hotch warns me. his eyebrows furrow as he sees me now weaponless, basically staring the shotgun in it's eyes. i don't turn to him, i don't even acknowledge him. "she tried so hard to protect me." i say and walk tiny steps towards the woman, who now walks backwards to avoid me.
"stop! one more move and i-i'll shoot." no she won't. "she basically devoted her life to making sure i remain scratchless and pure." i chuckle.
"well, look how that turned out. i've got scars all over my body and a fun memory to come with all of them." i get even closer to her. "i know how you feel. i know how much you miss him." the woman cries and nods.
"i do. i really do. what did i do wrong?!" she yells and she points the shotgun at me. "i protected him like he was made out of glass, whilst other mothers - bad ones - let their kids wander everywhere alone."
hotch jumps a little seeing the woman point her hefty gun at me. "Y/N. move." he warns, his tone as stern as his expression.
i shake my head but don't look back. "other mothers - bad ones - still have their kids. and mine," her tears fall. "my baby boy got swept off his feet the only time - an exception - when he got to walk home alone from school." she cries.
"you're right. you did everything right," i reassure her and walk even closer, only 10 meters standing between me and the shotgun barrel.
"except you forgot one thing," i scoff. "teaching him to grow the fuck up."
bang.
the gun drops to the floor shortly after she shoots. morgan runs towards her, putting the metal cuffs on her wrist. he reads her rights and takes her to the sheriffs wagon that was parked just 2 minutes away.
the bullet didn't hit me - she had no idea how to take an accurate shot. god, she barely even held that shotgun - the weight of it almost holding her instead of the other way around.
"agent Y/L/N!" hotch runs towards me, i pick myself up. "we got he-" i get interrupted by him. "what is wrong with you?!" he yells.
"are you actually insane? i gave you a direct order to move. do you think of me as a fool?" he yells, his voice basically growling.
"excuse me? i just basically handed her to you." i say, offended he's yelling at me for doing my job. "and in the process you almost got your head blown off." he's even angrier as i talk back.
"head blown off?" i scoff. "hotch, the woman couldn't even hit a giant red target if she tried. it was a risk i had to ta-" he interrupts me again.
"no- no, agent. it wasn't. you put your life on the line to appear macho infront of everyone here." he puts his pistol in it's holder and crosses his arms, taking slow but sure steps towards me. "you took control of the case like you're a veteran - but actually, you're just a rookie that will probably quit in the span of 2 months because you'll realise you can't do this." he growls again. that one hurt. "badge and gun. you're flying back to quantico tonight. i'll put in a request for a two week suspension as soon as i am back." he holds out his hand, waiting for me to hand him my gun and badge. my eyebrows furrow. "what?" my mouth parts - speechless. "you can't be serious." i say, unsure if he is. he's silent for an entire minute.
so he is serious. i give in - i have to, he's my boss, so i hand him my badge and my gun. without saying anything, i walk away. leaving the crime scene, wasn't authorized to be there anymore anyway. and ever since that day, 188 days ago, aaron hotchner has got it in for me.
--
everyones sitting in the briefing room except me and garcia. i walk in 2 minutes late and excuse myself, "sorry, lost track of time." JJ nods and hotch says "you own a watch, don't you, agent?" his angry expression once again tainting his face.
god i'd pay a ridiculous amount of money to punch him just once. "yes, sir. will not happen again." i reassure.
no one calls hotch sir except me. it's kind of a unspoken rule - the others are close to him, which i am not. which i will probably never be, considering he still judges my mistake as a way to not trust me with anything.
garcia walks in just a minute after me "sorry, guys, kevin was blabbing and blabbing and i could not get him to shut up." she says and smiles awkwardly. "it's fine" hotch says. "everyone's allowed to be late - once." he raises an eyebrow and looks at me.
just one punch.
JJ briefs us on the case and tells us the local police department doesn't want us there - so she's going to have to convince them, which can take a day or two. i don't mind - i was honestly not in the mood for a flight today. everyone goes back to their every day business. files, reports, coffee and smalltalk in the kitchen - or for morgan and garcia, friendly flirting in her office.
me and spencer are both stirring a fresh cup of good ol' joe in the kitchen, talking - or well, he's talking - about some new physics crap. i just nod and pretend i understand.
the color of the beige wall behind him looks particularly interesting today. he keeps explaining and suddenly goes "BOOM!" his hands wide and i jump a little at the noise - spilling coffee all over my pink blouse. i look at him annoyed, "oh my god. i will murder you." he can't contain his laugh and bursts, "i was just demonstrating!" then goes running out of the kitchen before i can get to him. i sigh and look at my now brown blouse - this would be awfully devastating if i didn't have a go-bag. i place my almost empty mug in the kitchen sink and head towards my tabe - emily giving me a curious stare. "what happened to you?" she scoffs, "physics." i reply and take my go-bag, fishing out the only blouse i have - a white one.
emily just nods at my remark and goes back to her file as if it was the most normal thing ever. considering it's me - it probably was. i change in the ladies room and scrunch my coffee splattered blouse into a ball. standing infront of my mirror i realise how see-through this blouse is - especially with a pink bra that i wore just for the pink blouse. "you have got to be kidding me." my eyes widen. it's really not that bad, but it's noticeable. so noticeable HR might force us all into a "appropriate clothing" seminar tomorrow. i really don't have much of a choice so i walk out like that, hoping or praying no one notices. my hope is diminished when i meet garcia in the bullpen, holding her palm to her hand so she doesn't burst out laughing. "not a word, garcia." i look at her, my eyes shooting arrows. thank god for kevin, as he comes and pecks her lips, her surpressed laughter now gone like the wind. saved by the bell. or well, by a kiss. i sit down at my table and keep working on my reports - if i slouch down enough you really can't see it. i'm a great problem solver. a rough, deep voice calls my name from a distance, "agent Y/L/N, my office, please." hotch says standing in his doorway. my head drops in defeat - i really have no luck today. i grab the file i was working on and hold it on my chest, basically hugging it - it makes me look weird but not weirder than having my pink bra open for everyones eyes. i stand infront of his door, mumbling to myself about how i hate my life and knock twice. "come in" hotch says, his eyes glued to his computer. "sir. you wanted to see me?" he nods and tells me to sit down, still not looking up. and so i do, i sit down and keep hugging my file like it's gonna grow legs and walk away. he finally raises his head and looks at me. his eyebrows furrow at the sight of me holding for dear life on the file, "is that for me?" he asks. "huh?" the file. "oh, no- i just really like this file." i smile awkwardly and his mouth parts as if he wanted to say something more, but he doesn't. the embarassement i'm feeling right now could wash half the population off of the earth. "you're gonna have to be transfered to a different unit." he says and coughs, his throat sounding almost dry as he barely speaks that sentence. my eyes widen to 3x their size, "what? but i didn't do-" i take a breath. "i didn't do anything wrong? you're just gonna transfer me? just like this? wh- i don't get it." i rise from my seat not realising i let my file drop. he stares at my chest and then back to my eyes like 10 times till i realise. i heastily grab the file again, sit back down and cover my chest back up, "i spilled coffee on my other blouse." i explain. hotch sighs, "it wasn't my decision. strauss wants you gone." he coughs again. "i tried to convince her, agent." i scoff. sure he did. he was probably the first one to agree to the transfer. "you're joking, right?" i stand up once again, file still in my embrace. "i know you want me gone. i just know you were the first one to agree with strauss decision." i raise my voice slightly. "wanting me gone is one thing, so is transferring me - but lying about it? you're pathetic." hotch's eyebrows furrow. he doesn't seem angry, he just seems.. apologetic? "agent, listen to m-" this time i interrupt him, "i'm done listening," i drop the file on his table "here. it's yours now." i exit his office but notice in my peripheral vision that he stood up, as if wanting to follow me. all eyes are on me and how i storm to my desk, either that or my pink bra. but i don't care. i grab my bag and jacket, my files still scattered around my desk - but they're not mine anymore, so why should i care? "Agent Y/L/N." hotch calls and exits his office, i ignore him and just keep walking. "Y/N." he calls me by my first name now. i notice the elevator is about to leave so i ask the person in it to hold it, a hand splitting the doors as i manage to walk in just in time, aaron standing 10 feet away looking defeated. --
i took a cold shower as soon as i got home to calm my nerves. didn't help much but pretending it did helps. got myself dressed in a large shirt and some raggedy pyjama pants and poured myself a glass of red wine. then another one. i'm reliving today in my thoughts - why did i get fired from the bau? and why did aaron - sorry, hotch - lie? everyone knows he despises me and wanted me gone as soon as possible, and he did so, why lie then? i gulp down another sip of wine and hear a knock at my door. if this isn't the chinese food i ordered i'll be heavily disappointed. i open the door without checking who it is and see hotch standing infront of my apartment door, the arms of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows and his jacket held on his shoulder by his hand. he looks pissed. like always but worse. "what are you doing here? i don't need to transfer to another apartment, do i?" i mock him and cross my arms. "can i come in?" he asks with a stern expression. "why?" i look at him, awaiting an explanation. i'm not just gonna let my asshole boss into my apartment with no plausible reason. "we need to talk. please." his expression changes and my heart breaks a little. i don't know why. i hate him. he's rude and selfish and made me doubt my career. but i let him in anyways. i take a seat on a bar stool at my kitchen island, sipping on my red wine waiting for him to say what he has to say. "i didn't request your transfer. i didn't agree with strauss either." i scoff but he keeps talking before i can, "but i couldn't disagree either." i knew it. god this motherf- "you got offered a unit chief position." he says and my eyes widen. "it's gonna be great for your career. it's a better pay and everything." he walks towards me and chuckles, "you'd be in a higher department than me, and that within just 6 months of working at the fbi." my eyebrows furrow, he better not be playing with me because i'm believing every second of it. "i didn't want you gone. you're an amazing agent and we," he gulps. "i was so lucky to have you. but i can't deny you a promotion out of my own selfish reasons." my mouth parts as i inhale a small breath. this is.. unexpected, to say the least. "hotch, i'm so sorry for going off at you like that." he shakes his head, "don't apologise. i know how i've been treating you and it was unfair. and totally unprofessional." he takes small steps towards me, stopping just infront of me. he swipes a strand of hair behind my ear and my body freezes - his warm fingers slightly touching my ear, his gaze so soft. i've never seen him so vulnerable before. "i care for you. and even though i handled it poorly, i thought i'd lose you on just your third day." he exhales and his arms now cross. "i couldn't let that happen. so ever since, i thought going hard on you would cause you to be more careful, less reckless." his head drops and his eyebrows furrow. "i know it was selfish, and god did i hate seeing you on the verge of tears everytime i had to discipline you." he looks me straight in the eyes, they no longer shoot fire arrows, they shoot soft looks and quick smiles as his mouth curls a little. "i'm sorry, Y/N. and i hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me." he closes his eyes and leans forward, placing a kiss on my cheek. i stand there, still frozen. i don't manage to say anything but i notice him moving. leaving. he grabs his jacket and twists the doorknob on my door without a word. "wait -" i manage to blurt out and he turns around, surprised. i walk towards him in a very quick manner, basically sprinting. if me two hours ago was put in this position, i'd finally take swing at the punch i've been begging for. but i don't. instead, i cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.
he doesn't react at first, the kiss starting slow, but then he grips at my waist tightly and pulls me towards him. he grins into the kiss and it feels like he just wants to eat me whole. he's greedy, unwilling to share, like he's wanted this for a while. i break the kiss so i can take a couple of breaths, he doesn't let go of my waist and looks me in the eyes. "i'm really sorry" his thumb carressing my left cheek. "you've said that."
"not enough." his lips land on mine again, this kiss shorter, more like a peck. his strong arms embrace me and my head lays on his broad chest. "isn't this unprofessional? a boss and his subordinate?" i ask as he hugs me tightly, "you're not my subordinate anymore, though, uniet chef Y/L/N." i chuckle into his embrace and pull myself away from him, looking into his eyes. "what if i don't take the job?" his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, "you have to, it's an amazing offer." i shrug and look up at the ceiling. "maybe. i kinda like my current work place though, i'd be willing to go back. unless of course my snarky boss won't take me." i grin playfully and he kisses my forehead. "monday 8:00 o'clock. don't be late this time."
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canmom · 2 days
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Ping-Pong The Animation: eps 1-3
So Masaaki Yuasa [AN12, AN28, AN150] can do no wrong, right? OK, well, I'll admit Ride Your Wave was kinda mid, and Devilman Crybaby goes hard as hell at the beginning and end but sorta treads water in the middle, but... generally speaking! No-one does it like Yuasa.
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For reasons I don't really remember, I didn't get very far watching Ping-Pong The Animation some years ago. It should be entirely my shit: Yuasa pulling in a gang of wildly creative animators to put their unique spin on something. However, the first episode didn't entirely hook me, and I never got round to trying the second before something else punted 'watching Ping Pong' out of my brain. ADHD, y'know.
This is a shame because even the very next episode seriously goes, as does the one after that. But also this anime isn't entirely what I was expecting (crazy sakugafest full of Yuasa weirdness). Not to say it doesn't do a lot of really unique stuff with its cinematography and animation, but these first episodes at least are more about like... dissociation! ennui!
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But more on that in a mo. First I wanna continue the thread of 'how do you animate sports'.
So, ping-pong, or table tennis. Not a sport I know much about, I'll be honest. (To be fair I don't know a lot about sports in general outside of some very specific niches. The sports I've pursued so far are rather eclectic: swimming, fencing, tai chi chuan, and roller derby; I never got particularly far in any and it's been years since I've done them.)
I'll inevitably be drawing a lot of comparisons to The First Slam Dunk, the other sports anime I've watched recently. I do think it's a productive comparison though! Both of them bring something of the visual language of manga into their presentation in unique ways. I have not yet read the Ping Pong manga, but it's by Taiyō Matsumoto, otherwise known for scifi manga like Tekkonkinkreet (god tier movie, still need to read the manga) and Number Five. So that's a pretty impressive track record!
If you go take a look at some scans of Ping Pong, what will immediately jump out is the shaky, rough line style and unusual camera angles and compositions.
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The stylisation is also very different from a lot of manga. Noses are fully drawn, eyes are realistically small, and in contrast, lips and mouths tend to get the emphasis - as well as hands.
Knowing this makes a lot of the creative choices in the anime make sense! It also adopts a shaky lineart style, and makes use of heavy line weights and spotting blacks to add definition. It also has a lot of crazy closeups and layouts, and it loves a visual metaphor. But most of all, the most striking element of this anime is how often it loves to split the picture up into little panels...
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...which [eli]'s subs do a really good job of typesetting, incidentally, moving the dialogue to fit naturally into the split composition. And while this shot with 7 smaller shots is perhaps on the extreme end, splits of three or more are pretty frequent. It's a really interesting way to evoke the effect of seeing a whole page of manga
So, as you proooobably know, ping-pong is a game of bouncing balls off a little table and directing them into places the opponent will find it hard to hit them back. From watching this anime I picked up that there are a number of styles of holding the racket (e.g. 'penhold grip' and 'shakehand') and approaches to hitting the ball (e.g. 'chopping'). A lot of this pretty much went over my head, but honestly it didn't matter, since the narrative significance was pretty much always evident.
Compared to basketball, though, ping-pong is a pretty tricky sport to make visually interesting! Sure, you have the players running to and fro, and that can lead to some interesting poses, but how do you get the drama and tension into this?
Ping-pong additionally is all 2D, it doesn't have the sort of resources that Toei could throw at making the best looking 3DCG basketball game ever. It is limited to a TV-feasible drawing count. So it has to make use of clever limited-animation tricks to get the most impact out of fewest drawings.
Let's take an example sequence from episode 3. A minor character is about to get his ass kicked by Tsukimoto. Tsukimoto is something of a pingpong prodigy, and yet he is very emotionally closed-off and even standoffish; he doesn't particularly seem to like the game very much, and doesn't particularly feel inclined to flex on other players and get into the status games. But other players, like Wenge, have heard about him and want to see what he's got.
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First we have the setup. Other characters are observing and discussing the game. Since ping-pong tends to involve very rapid exchanges, it can follow the classic shōnen model where there's a lot of talking, flashy fight sequence, more talking...
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The cut happens in two steps, maintaining the vertical dividing line. This approach to cutting is used a lot in Ping-Pong, and it's quite a creative way to keep visual interest when it's using a lot of largely static shots. The panel on the right is more animated than the panel on the left, a naturalistic depiction of bouncing the ball off the table.
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Things start moving faster here. A rapid pan on the image on the left disguises the fact that this anticipation pose is actually not moving at all. This then goes into a rapid, explosive moment as this guy serves.
The final pose is held for a couple of seconds while the voiceover line discussing his intended move finishes. This sort of elasticity of time is a very Osamu Dezaki type of move - it's something that Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata actually really disliked.
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A sound effect hits as Tsukimoto appears on the right in silhouette, anticipating his reaction, and setting up the next shot which leaves the split picture and hides the background for just a moment, as if to put us in Tsukimoto's shoes: he only sees the ball.
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Tsukimoto follows through and holds this pose - the ball is the only thing moving here. The ball moves mainly on 2s while Tsukimoto moves on 3s and 2s, and he and the ball move on alternating frames. He holds the pose as the ball zips off to the right (bouncing off the corner of the table), with a speed lines-like effect. At the end of the shot, the ball freezes in the air for the moment while the sound echoes.
The actual table-tennis round lasts just seconds, and the drawing count involved is pretty minimal, but it does a lot with those drawings.
We go back to voiceovers and reactions in the next few shots, returning to the split video as Tsukimoto's opponent thinks about how he'd really rather be at the beach...
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Often, these comic-like compositions will change one panel at a time, and while one panel is animated another panel will be still, naturally moving your eyes across the screen. It is an approach similar to some experiments I've seen in 'animated comics' viewed in a web browser, where the panels do not appear all at once, but enter with some animation.
So this is the sort of animation technique that Ping Pong uses. It's effective! Elsewhere the cuts are used in a less direct, continuity-editing way and more in a juxtaposition/montage way. For example, Wenge's desire to return to China is symbolised by match cutting/fading to shots of an aeroplane.
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And there is a recurring image, which I'm sure will be expanded on, of Tsukimoto hiding in a cupboard and wishing for a tokusatsu hero to come save him from his isolation. As Tsukimoto's feelings about himself change, the toku hero is replaced by a robot. At this points it starts to feel like an outright Ikuhara anime.
There is occasionally a little bit of CG, mainly when Tsukimoto uses a different type of racket surface, and the way the ball and racket make contact is the crucial thing that the shot is trying to convey...
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It gets the job done, but I'm glad they stuck with 2D for most of it.
So I went in the first time expecting like, crazy elaborate sakuga - and to be fair, the OP, animated by none other than Shinya Ohira, delivers on that front - but if anything what I've seen so far in Ping-Pong is actually a triumph of storyboarding and limited animation techniques. I think back then I didn't have the eyes to appreciate it in the same way.
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OK, that's the film nerd stuff, but what about the story? Ping Pong follows two school friends, Makoto Tsukimoto aka "Smile" (right), and Yutaka Hoshino aka "Peco" (left). Smile is defined by a flat affect and a standoffish persona. He's just going through the motions. He's very good at ping-pong, but to him it's just a way to pass time, and he's scornful about the idea of caring all that much about it. Much like Shinji with his casette player, Tsukimoto is pretty much always staring at a handheld games console rather than make eye contact with anyone.
Peco on the other hand is the more childish one - playful, kinda arrogant, very much an 'emotions on his sleeve' kinda guy. He sulks when he loses and gloats when he wins, and is constantly seen with bubblegum or other kinds of candy. He provides a lot of our commentary when he chats with the other players.
日本語上手 readers probably noticed the tsuki (moon) vs hoshi (star) symbolism thing they've got going on here!
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High-school table tennis in this story seems to be a rather 'tough love' kinda world. Most of these players tend to look down on those who can't meet their level. Going easy on someone is seen as weakness, or cultivating bad habits, by almost everyone. Tsukimoto doesn't play at his full potential because he isn't as invested in winning as all these weirdos, but it seems that might be starting to change...
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The coach is interesting. He's an old man and fairly disdainful of the club at large, and prone to speaking English randomly with a heavy accent. But he gets excited at the prospect of getting Tsukimoto to unleash his full potential, in terms that are repeatedly metaphorically compared to romance/marriage.
And when Tsukimoto gets sick of it, he challenges him to a game, with the stakes as...
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Cue Makima/Beatrice images here I guess.
Tsukimoto de facto wins when the coach collapses, but this episode marks a change of heart. He starts to think of himself as a robot - the affect of a robot replacing the affect of the toku hero in his fantasy. And in this way he does what people seem to want and plays ping pong with mechanical precision, expressed once again in visual metaphor (shot here from a cool transformation sequence)...
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What if I just dissociate harder? This is gonna end well.
So it really is one of those kind of like 'ennui of being a teenager' kind of stories - c.f. say FLCL. 'Boy with complicated emotional landscape' is Yuasa bread and butter, but the particular variant here seems a little unusual for him - they tend to be a little more earnest. I'm curious to see how Tsukimoto develops.
I am definitely enjoying the arrogant Chinese player Kong Wenge. Dude's got a lot of screen presence, and while I'm sure he'll get shown up sooner or later, he makes for a very fun antagonist of sorts.
In comparison to Slam Dunk... one thing that's significantly different about table tennis is that it's an individual rather than a team sport, which means it's harder to have an ensemble cast all contributing to the protagonists' eventual victory - instead it's about a lot of individual arcs interweaving with each other, individual duels. Besides that, it does seem like it will be following a similar arc of a character in an emotional hole (grief for Ryota, depression for Tsukimoto) finding new meaning and purpose through sports - though I can't be sure how things are gonna go for Tsukimoto here!
The tone however is quite different. Even when it's silly, I feel like Slam Dunk is a very sincere story. There's little detachment or irony, or false consciousness - with perhaps the major exception of Ryota's mother, who lets her own grief and trauma get in the way of understanding her son. But ultimately 'why would you care this much about basketball' is not a question that anyone would ask in Slam Dunk. Even the judo guy in the manga who's trying to recruit Sakuragi is just as hot-blooded about his own sport of choice.
There's a difference in like, general affect about the players as well, which has something to do with the sport itself. Yeah, Sakuragi's superpower is his 'genius' ability to predict rebounds, and there is plenty of strategising in Slam Dunk - but basketball is still a sport that very much emphasises physical power, and as much as Slam Dunk will work hard to sell you on a clever trick pass, the visuals are also emphasising the speed that players are dashing, the height they're jumping, their physique. Table tennis by contrast seems to be a sport that's more about prediction and mind games.
That said it is equally just like Matsumoto's style being different from Inoue's. Now I know it's by the guy who wrote Tekkonkinkreet, a lot about this series falls into place! There's a sense of tension here, of being fundamentally at odds with the world. The autismfeels. This is reflected also in the drawings - the characters don't entirely seem comfortable in their embodiment.
So if that's what I'm getting from just three eps, I'm very excited to see what the remaining 8 have to offer. This series is probably too long to cram into Animation Night format, but we'll see...
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sharp-edges · 3 days
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yes it was the connor post I haven’t read that intently in ages
the connor post nonny is refering too
YESSSSSSS, i cant be normal about him because no one else is able to be normal about him, the part that gets me, that im being really abnormal about at this specific second is him and his family temporarily MOVING TO SWEDEN, when he was 15 so he could train.... that's not normal!!!!! he never had a normal teenage years, we will never have normal adult years, i need to wipe the worlds memory of him and send him to college for two semesters, i need him to throw up in the bushes outside a frat, i need him to regret taking an 8am, i need him to socialize with people who don't play hockey, i need him to be normal. i need the league to teach these kids to take hits, i need them to try and acclimate the kids who don't get sent to a farm team after getting drafted, how many fucking rookies need to get hurt, and take bad hits for the league to finally realize that they aren't doing well by them. how many more players need to use the nhlpa player assistance program before they realize that taking a bunch of children and signing them to multi year contracts and with a schedule that leaves you traveling and away from your non hockey friends and family for months on end is a recipe for unhealthy coping mechanisms, mary @pwhl-mybeloved said earlier that someone sent in 15 duplicate cards to get graded of a kid who isn't eligible for the draft until 2026, the era of social media is putting even more eyes on "generational talents" THIS QUOTE FROM EMILY KAPLAN AT ESPN
Bedard tries to stay out of public when he can, and as he gave me a tour in his off-roader SUV, bumping some top-40 music, it became apparent why. When he stopped at a red light, a car pulled up with four adults who recognized Bedard instantly. The driver honked and waved enthusiastically as the three passengers frantically fiddled with their phones to take photos. Bedard, clearly experienced with this exact scenario, politely smiled back. "There's a bit of buzz, and for me, it's kind of crazy to see some of the things and people I've been compared to," Bedard said. "It's a lot different getting recognized out and about. It's something I'm getting used to. It's supercool feeling the support. But you know ... I'm still a kid." He's understating the buzz.
^^^^^ HE WAS 17!!!!!!!! THE ENTIRE ARTICLE GUTS ME
he's too young!!!! we are putting children on too high of pedestals, we make children sign contracts with an organization that doesn't care, not about their physical health, not about their mental health, we are stuck perpetually dooming hundreds of children each fucking year.
people want to be angry at cutter gauthier because he "broke up" jamie and tz but i care that a child (okay hes 20 now… and was 19 when the tarde happened, and he was 18 when drafted) who informed the flyers back in MAY OF LAST YEAR, that he didn't want to sign, WAS DRAGGED THROUGH THE MUD!!!!! because the flyers dragged their heels for almost a year and wouldn't take his "im not signing" as an answer!
the fucking amazon tv show "focusing on 10-12 players" will never show any of this shit, the league wants to grow its audience and appeal to a younger and more female audience, but young people are smart, and more people are going to notice, cutter didn't break to mainstream audiences, but this fucking amazon show is going to bring a bunch of eyes, and those eyes are going to look at connor, because there is no fucking way he isnt going to be one of the players they focus on, the league isn't that stupid, and those new eyes are going to see what i see, and i won't be the only person walking round in circles mumbling about gifted children never adjusting.
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headaching · 9 months
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*guy who hasn’t posted in 8 weeks voice* um. hi for the love of god hello
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