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cupid-styles · 15 days

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yours (ymls check-in)

in which y/n just wants to be harry's — officially.

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: parenting/family stuff (y/n and harry are parents), smut (breeding kink, slight size kink, literal one "mommy" mention, dirty talk)

ymls masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Parenthood is difficult.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, so it takes Harry and Y/N approximately two minutes of bringing Clementine into the world to come to the same realization. Her loud wails break their hearts every time, sleep becomes a luxury, and breastfeeding takes an incredible toll on Y/N’s physical and mental health.

But in the same way that parenting is hard and filled with tears and confusion, it’s just as — if not more — rewarding.

Clementine is the best thing that’s ever happened to each of them. Harry can’t remember a version of his life where he wasn’t head-over-heels in love with his sweet baby girl, and Y/N has softened up a considerable amount now that she spends most of her day cooing to her daughter.

It’s not perfect by any means — Clem is a tried-and-true daddy’s girl and sometimes it hurts Y/N’s feelings. Clementine also inherited her mom’s grumpy exterior and, in the middle of a visit from Harry’s parents or Y/N’s sister, will starfish her body, going completely rigid until one of her parents takes her. (Harry always thinks it’s funny while Y/N is embarrassed by it. It’s something they’re working on as a family.)

Beyond their little trio, though, lies a larger situation that’s been conveniently tucked away since Clementine was born: Harry and Y/N’s relationship.

They never decided what they were after confessing feelings for one another. One day, they lived separately and were going the route of platonic co-parenting. The next, Harry moved all his things into Y/N’s, ended the lease on his own apartment, and painted the guest room a pretty pastel pink.

At first, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Y/N has never cared for labels on relationships, and their devotion to each other was blatant — they were parenting a child together, after all. He kissed her good morning, they held hands on family walks, and at the end of the day, they were crawling into bed together. She didn’t need a ring or a title to reiterate where she stood in Harry’s life.

Until… well, until the supermarket incident.

It was a rainy day, but Y/N wanted to pop into the store before they rounded the corner to head back home. Now that Clementine’s pediatrician gave them the okay to start trying out solid foods — or, as solid as baby food can be — Harry had gotten really into making it from scratch. Currently, their kitchen was a mess of sweet potato, apple, and green bean purees, but Y/N was trying to be supportive, even if the noise of the blender sometimes woke Clem up from her afternoon nap. She remembered him mentioning a new recipe he found for carrots, mangos, and bananas, so she figured they could grab the ingredients on their way home.

Clementine looked adorable in her cute little rain jacket and matching hat. Harry couldn’t stop taking pictures of her, and as they dipped into the produce aisle, stroller in tow, she remembered they needed another gallon of milk since they were trying to wean Clem off of Y/N’s breast milk.

“You guys can stay right here, it’s just in the next aisle,” Y/N said, arms stuffed with produce bags. Harry nodded, though his attention primarily laid on Clementine’s gummy smile. Y/N snorted to herself as she quickly shuffled off to the dairy section — the duo were two peas in a pod, but she didn't think she would want it any other way.

Glancing down at her watch, she put a pep in her step as she walked back to the produce aisle. They had about 15 minutes before Clem started getting antsy and whiney about her pre-dinner nap, and she didn’t want her to get upset on their walk home.

Only, when she turned the aisle, Harry and Clementine weren’t alone anymore — no, there were two women standing with them, cooing over their daughter.

“She’s so precious! How old is she?” one of them asked.

“Ah, almost eight months,” Harry replied bashfully, petting down the tuft of brown curls at the top of Clementine’s head. Y/N clenched her jaw. Why had he taken her hat off? It was supposed to protect her from the rain!

“So sweet,” the other woman grinned, reaching out to thumb over Clementine’s puffy cheek. The vision sent a pang of jealousy through Y/N’s chest — her baby wasn’t some kind of doll that anyone could just touch! Clutching the produce and container of milk in her hands, Y/N all but marched over to the stroller and threw them in the bottom compartment.

“Ready to go, honey?”

Harry blinked at Y/N, a world of confusion swirling in the green eyes he shared with his daughter. She stayed silent and still, knuckles white from gripping the stroller handle so tightly.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, leaning down to gently place Clementine back in her seat, “This is Y/N, Clementine’s mum.”

“Oh, your baby is so sweet! Harry was just raving about you!” one of the women nearly squealed. Y/N smiled tightly as she watched him buckle Clementine in.

“Okay, say bye bye, Clem,” Harry murmured. They’d been trying to teach her how to wave hello and goodbye, but Y/N would rather scoop her own eyeballs out than watch her do it for the first time with these women.

In fact, she was already pushing the stroller down the end of the aisle before they could even get the word “bye” out.

Since that day about two weeks ago, it’s been constantly replaying in the back of Y/N’s brain. Even though Harry didn’t think much of it (she knows this because he immediately started talking about nonsense on the walk home), for the first time, it plucked at a chord of insecurity that she didn’t even know she had. She’d always felt fairly secure in her relationship with Harry — he’d all but begged her for this life together, and he’d been incredibly involved from the moment she got pregnant — so how is that two random strangers at the supermarket tore this out of her?

It bothered her so deeply to the point where she did something she’d never done before: Ask Lea for relationship advice.

“In the years I’ve known you, you have never asked me for help with a man,” Lea had said, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly met her hairline. Y/N grumbled as she wrapped her hand around her matcha, avoiding eye contact with her friend. She’d been able to sneak out for an afternoon coffee date with her while Harry took Clementine to the park. “You’re always so… sure of yourself. And you have a literal child with Harry. What gives?”

Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her lips together nervously. “You should’ve seen the way those girls were all over him. It was… gross.”

“It’s normal to feel jealous, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I am not jealous,” she muttered, “I just… he introduced me as Clementine’s mom. Don’t you think I’m a bit… more than that to him?”

“Of course you are. But you’ve never had that conversation, have you?”

“Like you said, we have a baby together. What else could you need?”

Lea smirked, “That’s all that you need. But he probably needs a bit more confirmation than that.”

Y/N bristled as she stuck her straw between her lips, taking a long sip.

“He knows we’re in a relationship, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “Dom and I used to hear all the gossip about you two before Clem was born, but since then, I think he’s just been focused on making sure you and her are both taken care of.”

“So what do I do?” Y/N asked through a sigh, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth.

“Talk to him,” Lea said easily, “But… maybe don’t do it in your rough-and-tough-Y/N way. Maybe… make it a little special. He likes that, y’know? Little romantic gestures?”

Y/N scrunched her face. Lea was right — Harry was all about the little things, like surprising her with flowers or waking her up with breakfast in bed on the weekends. And while Y/N was positive she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, she’d certainly attempt to find one if it meant making Harry happy.

. . .

A few days later, Harry walks into his shared apartment with Y/N to the scent of something delicious.

“Y/N?” he calls as he toes his shoes off in the entryway. They weren’t due for company, were they? He doesn’t think so, but with eight months straight of four to five hours of sleep each night, he had trouble remembering anything that wasn’t Clementine-related.

He follows the fragrance into the kitchen, where Y/N is standing over the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of some sort of sauce. She jumps, hand over her heart, when he goes to greet her.

“Jesus fuck, you scared me!” she exclaims, the wooden spoon nearly clattering to the floor. He smirks and lets out an amused laugh as he walks towards her, observing the array of pans on the stovetop.

“What’s all this for?” he asks. Y/N presses a hand to his muscular chest and attempts to block him from seeing anything.

“I’m making you dinner,” she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip, “Clem’s with my sister for the night.”

“Oh?”

She nods.

“Did I forget a special occasion?”

She shakes her head.

“Then how come I’m getting spoiled tonight?”

Her cheeks warm at that, but they both pretend her blush is invisible. “I just wanted to do something… romantic for you.”

“Romantic?” he repeats the word like it’s a bizarre concept and it makes a pit form in Y/N’s stomach, “That’s… sweet of you. Thank you.”

She nods, albeit a bit robotically. “Um. Yeah. It’ll be ready in like 5 minutes.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, “Do you want me to set the table?”

She shakes her head bashfully and Harry raises an eyebrow. “I already did that.”

Her demure nature makes a smile form at the edges of his lips and he reaches out to press a hand to her hip, squeezing gently.

“Y’okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head to look at her. “You seem nervous.”

Y/N shrugs and it supplies him with a tepid answer. “I just wanna make this nice for you.”

His heart breaks a bit at that and he ducks lower to catch her lips in a short, sweet kiss. PDA isn’t irregular for them — not with touch being Harry’s primary love language — so it’s unsurprising to be on the receiving end of one of his dizzying kisses, even if it ends quicker than she’d like.

“This is already so special to me. I do miss Clem, though.”

She snorts at that as he brushes his nose against hers. “Of course you do. She’s your mini me.”

“Except when she’s making that grumpy little face. That’s all you.”

Y/N lightly bats at his chest before mumbling out to go sit down in the dining room.

Harry’s eyes widen when he sees the candlelit table — he can’t remember the last time they ate on actual plates, always opting for take-out containers or paper plates for the sake of convenience. He swallows as he sits down and listens to Y/N shuffle around the kitchen. He hears her curse, followed by what sounds like her emptying pasta into a colander — she always burns herself whenever she does that, and he can envision the slight grimace that appears on her face.

Just as he’s getting antsy and preparing himself to ask if she needs any help, Y/N appears from the kitchen with a big bowl of pasta. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she places it on the table, then stands up straight. She looks like a soldier waiting to be told to return to their duties.

“Um… I made us that roasted red pepper pasta you like.” she says, wringing her hands out in front of her. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, gesturing to the seat across from him, “Sit down. You look like you’re gonna have an aneurysm. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Y/N grumbles as she sits down, and the sound of her grouchy voice makes him chuckle as he grabs her bowl to serve her, “I know I’m not, like… the most romantic person, or even the easiest person to be around, so it’s important to me that I make this really good for you.”

“I hate when you say that,” he murmurs before placing her full bowl in front of her. He moves to serve himself, “You’re the easiest person I’ve ever been around. You’re a great mum and I love being a parent with you.”

Y/N swallows as she listens to him, leaving her food untouched. He watches her and takes a bite of his pasta, chewing slowly.

“Is that… all I am to you?” she asks softly with low eyes. Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… am I still just a co-parent to you?”

He sets his fork down and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Well, we never really talked about it, I guess. But you know you’re more than that to me.”

“You’re more than just Clem’s dad to me,” she continues. “And it kinda hurt my feelings when you introduced me to those girls as ‘Clementine’s mom’ a few weeks back.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Oh. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I know.”

His heart strains at the thought of hurting her feelings, but he also knows that what happened in the supermarket was weeks ago. Had she been sitting on it and thinking about it all this time?

“I never want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. To be honest, I don’t know how to refer to you but… I’d say you’re my partner, yeah? You’re my teammate in raising our beautiful girl and I love getting to live life with you.”

Her heart thumps rapidly in her chest. “But what if… what if you called me your girlfriend, too?”

Harry’s silent for a moment. He reaches out to place his hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

“Would you want that?” he asks. “I’ll only do it if that’s what you want.”

She looks up at him and nods. Her eyes are glassy and it makes Harry’s chest tighten. Suddenly, he needs to be closer to her, so he stands up and scoops her into his arms. At first she rejects his touch, mumbling out sentiments about still having postpartum weight, but Harry shushes her and pulls her into his lap.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N.” he murmurs. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to the side of her neck. She shivers and he keeps his hands as solid anchors on her hips.

“I want you to call me your girlfriend,” she says, lifting her gaze to look at him. “I don’t want you to entertain any other person or let them flirt with you or touch our baby. I just want it to be the three of us, always.”

If Harry’s being honest, he would have been content with living in this gray, in-between area with Y/N for the rest of their lives. He was happy — so incredibly happy to be in her life, to sleep next to her every night, to raise a gorgeous baby girl with her. He felt fortunate to be there for every moment, good and bad — but he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been waiting for the day where she told him what was really going on in that pretty head of hers.

He presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says quietly, soft fingertips smoothing over the expanse of her hip, “You’re my girlfriend, okay? Not just Clemmie’s mum. You’re so much more than that.”

She nods her head and Harry smiles gently at how flustered she continues to be — it’s a side of her that he rarely sees, and the sight makes a low chuckle sound from deep in his chest.

“You’re silly,” he mumbles against the shell of her ear. “Isn’t that what you are? A silly baby desperate to be mine?”

Y/N bristles and swallows harshly, keeping her gaze low in his lap. His smirk only grows as he begins to press slow kisses along her jaw and down to her neck. Her eyes flutter closed.

“Everyone thinks you’re this pretty, grumpy girl, but I know better than that,” he continues, sliding his hands beneath her tee-shirt to feel her warm skin, “You’re loving and kind. The best mum I’ve ever seen. The best partner and the best girlfriend, too. Isn’t that right, mama?”

She gasps wetly and he feels her thighs threaten to clench, but his hips prevent her from getting any relief. He hums, satisfied with her response and, in a quick movement, pulls her shirt from her body and tosses it to the floor. Her swollen breasts sit prettily on her chest and he tries his best not to groan at the sight.

“Don’t tease,” she mewls. He chuckles as she grasps at the fabric of his own tee-shirt, the soft material in the tight clutch of her knuckles.

“Need me to fill you up?” he asks, though he knows the answer is an obvious and resounding yes. They haven’t had actual sex in at least a month, not with Clementine occupying 99% of their time. Even if he’s attempting to play it cool, his cock is hard and throbbing beneath layers of his clothing. He swears he can even feel the warmth of her pussy through her own clothes and it’s taking everything in him not to thrust up and grind against her.

“Yes,” Y/N pants, shaky fingers digging beneath the waistband of his trousers to pull his length out, “S-stop playing around. You know it’s been too long.”

Harry laughs lowly and lifts his hips up to grant her enough space so she can retrieve his cock. She doesn’t even bother pushing his pants or briefs down, swallowing tightly at the sight of the ruddy tip already leaking with pre-cum.

“Relax, baby,” he mumbles, grabbing one of her trembling hands and intertwining their fingers together, “Breathe, yeah? I’ll take care of my girl.”

Her pussy clenches at that — my girl — and she nibbles on her bottom lip eagerly when he pushes her soft shorts to the side to reveal her pussy. He wishes he had more willpower to look at what he’s been missing out on and his throat bobs when his eyes flicker down to the puffy clit tucked between her lips. He thinks they’ll both explode if he doesn’t get inside of her in the next two seconds, so he gives his cock a pump before he positions himself beneath her and slowly pushes in.

Immediately, she whimpers out and he stalls, his free hand pressing rigidly into the skin of her thigh.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “Tight fit.”

“I know.” he mutters, glancing up at her to read her expression. “Do you need me to pull out?”

She instantly shakes her head, “No, no. Keep going.”

Harry leans up to seal their lips in a messy, wet kiss as he continues pushing in as slowly as he can. He supposes he should’ve spent more time stretching her out, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about Y/N over the past year, it’s that she’s always eager and ever determined to take him, even if it’s been weeks since their last time together.

When he’s finally all the way in, his balls snug against her bum, their kiss slows, though it doesn’t seem like Y/N has any plans to separate their mouths. He doesn’t move a muscle, even if he knows his cock is throbbing from the tightness of her pussy. And then, after what seems like an eternity, she nods.

Slowly, he begins to fuck up inside of her and breathy moans depart from her swollen lips. Harry’s mouth catches each one, punctuating every whimper with a gentle peck.

“There you go, mama, take my cock. You’re doing so good, aren’t you?”

She only responds with a lilting whimper and he moans, feeling the way her pussy clenches around his length. It’s not the dirtiest sex they’ve had — not by a long shot — but god, if it doesn’t feel incredible knowing that they’re completely devoted to one another.

“You make me feel so good,” she mewls, making his eyes nearly roll back, “I love your cock— ‘s so good, Harry, want— want you to give me another baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, squeezing her hips hard, “Can’t just fucking say that stuff, baby. I’ll bust before you even cum.”

“D-don’t care,” she shudders, but he can tell she’s reaching her peak by the way her thighs begin to tremble, each of her muscles tightening. “Cum inside me, m-make me a mommy again.”

His chest vibrates with a deep groan and he reaches between them to pinch at her pearly clit, rubbing it in quick, tight circles. He’s seconds away from bursting himself, but he refuses to finish before she has a chance to.

It barely takes a few loops around the bundle of nerves before she’s shaking in his lap, her pussy tensing around his length as she moans out his name over and over again. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and he presses his forehead against her sweaty shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm triggers his own. As requested, he pumps his cock deep inside of her as he comes, pushing his seed as far as it’ll go. She whimpers from the sensation as pants fall from her lips, shivering every time he thrusts another rope of cum into her.

They’re both shaking by the time both of their orgasms taper off. Harry wraps his arms around her sweaty form, pulling her chest against his.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You and Clem. We’re a family.”

Y/N nods, echoing his words. “Yours.”

They settle into a comfortable silence; Harry’s softening cock still inside. He’s unsure of how how long they stay there, but he does know that they’ll have to move eventually so he can clean her up. It’s only then that she sits up to look at him, her eyes soft and tired.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you get me Plan B tomorrow?” she asks, biting her lip. “I think Clem is… more than enough for me right now.”

He laughs and nods his head.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow.”

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purdledooturt · 2 months

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WIP Wedneday

I got tagged again, and y'all... you may not know this but I basically bleed WIPs. I have nothing but WIPs. Sometimes they never become anything, and WIP Wednesdays are the only way they see the world at all. Thank you @cinnamontails-ff for freeing one of these boys from the jail.

In celebration of the announcement of the continuation of An Empirical Science, I would also like to contribute to the Holy Rolan Empire.

The door clicked closed – then, it clicked again. Locked.

“Drop the glamour, please,” Rolan all but growled, “before I do it for you.”

Tav gasped at the commanding tone, her heart seized by cold tendrils in confusion. Immediately, she did as he had asked, dropping the disguise with an exhale. “Rolan!” Her hand flew to her chest, trying to still her pounding heart. “It’s just me!”

“Tav!” Rolan gasped back, his expression going from dark and fierce and angry to something more akin to surprise and confusion and… suspicion? With one final once-over the expression melted into something more sheepish, as his shoulders relaxed with a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. You… you had triggered some alarms, so I…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting loose a few tendrils from his normally immaculately styled half-up ‘do. “It’s good to see you, though.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, pursing her lips together as she felt her face burn red out of embarrassment. Of course they would have security measures for disguises and seemings – she didn’t even think about it. “That was wholly my fault.”

To try and soothe the awkward air, Tav went for the first gesture she could think of: a friendly hug. Oddly, Rolan accepted – in fact, he damn near melted into it. She enjoyed his warmer body temperature, momentarily reminded of the piggy-back rides Karlach used to give her when they were racing Lae’zel. She rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He pulled away from the embrace, examining her once again. “My reaction was completely unwarranted. I apologise, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought you… were someone else. Why were you in a disguise anyway?”

She looked down at her bag of purchases and sheepishly held them up to call his attention to them. Curiously, he peered in. “Last time I came by, Lia wouldn’t let me pay, so…”

He laughed. “You silly girl,” he said fondly, shaking his head. He gestured towards a well-lit seating area by the large floor-to-ceiling window. “Why don’t you take a seat over by the window? Let me at least get you a drink, and I’ll let Cal and Lia know you’re here so they can say hello.”

Tav marvelled at the room Rolan had claimed as his office – the walls were covered in books, from floor to ceiling, but unlike Lorroakan’s old set up it was much more organised and welcoming. Rolan had his books in shelves of polished cherry wood – she found that the desk, chairs, his drinks cabinet, and the furniture at his seating area matched, giving the room an elevated, moody, professional air. It was luxurious and neat – it was just very him.

“ I’d love a juice of some kind,” she called out over her shoulder as she settled down on the plush seat of one of the armchairs. “This place is beautiful, Rolan - you’ve outdone yourself!”

“I found the difficulty of furnishing a space is greatly made easy by having lots of money,” he said in his normal, sardonic, Rolan way, though there was markedly no bite in his tone. “I do hope this juice would do.”

She’d turned to find him walking towards her with two glasses of wine and she laughed, leaning forward in her seat to reach for one. “That counts,” she joked, as she watched him take the other armchair across from her. She took a sip of the wine – chilled and sweet.

Before he leaned back he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pouch which he’d tossed her way. It landed on her lap with a light jingle that betrayed its contents. “Say nothing,” he said, pre-empting her protest with a raised hand, “that should be exactly what you paid, and not a gold more.”

“One of the scrolls was on sale,” she mentioned – concern about being credited more than what actually paid oddly the first thing in her mind.

The second, she found, was amazement – the idea of Rolan just… casually calculating the cost of her purchases, just from that brief glance into her bag, just to refund her? Well, she knew he was a genius, but that was as impressive as Astarion’s one-handed lockpicking trick – it was another level entirely. “Rolan, really –”

He finally settled down in the armchair, waving her concerns away. “I’ve accounted for that, don’t worry,” he said, “just to keep the books clean for Bex.”

Ooh - why did he react so poorly? Who was he expecting? 👀

I am super excited about this idea so I am definitely motivated to keep working on it - I just want to have it all planned out before I commit (sorry). I have a prologue whipped up that explains the whole premise from the get go, but there's a whole lot of middle to work with.

#rolan #rolan x tav #rolan x oc #purdle-writes #purdle writes #holy rolan empire #the brainrot continues to rot #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan nation #rolan brainrot

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atiny-moon · 9 months

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Let’s Party

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

Genre: excuse me, you have some plot in your smut

Tags: wooyoung x fem!reader, dry humping, choking, public sex? (but not really), lmk if I missed anything

Word count: 3.5k

This is my first fic, positive feedback is greatly appreciated ^-^

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

It was a friend of a friend’s party and while you were more comfortable sitting at home, binging K-Dramas, it was fun to get dressed up and get out of the house. It was fun to have the girls over and go through your closet, them complaining about the absolute LACK of clothes and making a fuss over your ability to pull off absolutely anything. Your group of friends had been together for as long as you could remember and it was always a good time when the five of you were together. Three of the girls were rifling through your closet while the fourth was in the kitchen preparing drinks for everyone. A bit of a pre-game, if you will.

Everyone agreed that this was the best outfit they could come up with given the choices they had - you found yourself in a skimpy little black mini skirt and a matching black silk cami. One of your girlfriends lent you a pair of strappy heels, the kind that tie all the way up your calf while another girlfriend did your makeup and hair. All in all, the five of you looked dressed to kill.

The girl group arrived at the party while it was already in full swing with nothing but smiles and alcohol racing through your veins. The party was in a huge, luxury mansion - the likes of which you had never seen. People were pouring in through the front door, the side entrance and there were even some people spilling into the backyard. In honesty, you hadn’t seen a party like this since college.

The five of you walked into the house party with linked arms. One of your friends led the group through the house, introducing you to this person and that person while the rest of you put on your best faces and tried your hardest not to seem out of place. Because, the more you looked around, the more you realized that these party goers were wearing very expensive outfits. Was that a Fendi bag just hanging out in the middle of the coffee table? Wait.. were those a pair of Louboutins walking by?! You swallowed a big gulp of air and tried to keep your head together, though the effects of the pre-game drinks were already affecting your system.

Eventually, the five of you end up in one of the many living spaces. Each of you took a seat on the luxurious black sectional.

“Holy shit, Chels.. Where the hell are we?!”

“I know right, isn’t this place crazy?” replied Chelsea, the friend of a friend that managed to get you five invited into this party. “Brandon is a real estate agent and this is one of his houses!” Chelsea continued, as if that simple sentence provided enough explanation.

The four of you looked at each other then back at Chelsea. But before you could ask any follow up questions, a dashing black man with a shiny bald head walked into the living room with arms wide open.

“Chelsea!” He bellowed, his English accent hanging thick on your friend’s name. Chelsea immediately stood and leapt into his arms, wrapping her thin tanned arms around his neck.

“Brandon! I’m so happy to see you!” Brandon smiled and returned the hug with one hand, his other held a martini glass that was already half-empty.

“These are my friends,” Chelsea continued, partially removing herself from Brandon to do a general sweep to the four of you on the couch.

“They are indeed gorgeous, love!” All five girls giggle at the sudden compliments causing Brandon to widen his already beautiful smile. “Now..” Brandon’s attention fully on Chelsea, his large hand ever present on the small of her back, “You’ve showed them around, yes?” Chelsea nodded, to which Brandon pulled her in close and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. The four of you couldn’t hear what was being said but Chelsea was quick to giggle and slap Brandon’s arm flirtatiously. And without another word, the two were off.

The four of you watched as Chelsea and Brandon disappeared to an unexplored part of the mansion while the rest of you just sat there in silent confusion.

“Wait.. what the fuck?” Nayda was the first to remark. “Did she.. Did she just leave us?!” Nayda’s voice raised an octave as the rest of you were just left with your mouths slightly open.

“I guess so..” Retorted Michelle.

“Okay.. well.. What do we do now?” Asked Rebecca. You were about to suggest getting another round of drinks when a parade of eight incredibly attractive men walked into the living room. The four of you couldn’t help but watch as each one passed by. It was something out of a fever dream. And maybe it was the alcohol in your system but you could not suppress a catcall whistle as the eight of them walked by. Most of them bowed their heads in embarrassment while another one with long black bangs obscuring his vision met your eyes and raised his eyebrows. His mouth formed a little surprised ‘o’ while he pointed at himself. You responded by nodding your head and winking. The boldness of your actions affected him and you could see his cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

Your girlfriends waited until the men exited the living room and into another part of the house before they all turned to you and started ganging up on you.

“Girl! What is your problem?! This isn’t a construction site!” Exclaimed Nayda

“You don’t even know those men!” said Michelle in a barely audible angry whisper.

“Thank god you said something because I was about to!” Cackled Rebecca.

You couldn’t help but double over in laughter before trying your best to calm them down, “I just thought they were hot!”

“Yeah, but now they’re not gonna wanna talk to us! They probably think we can’t even keep it in our pants!” whined Michelle.

You scoff and wave off your friend’s concern. “Who cares?” you continue, “Let’s go get some more drinks.”

You’re the first to peel yourself off the couch and adjust your daringly short mini skirt before the rest of your girlfriends join you. You’re still adjusting your skirt when you feel the heaviness of someone’s eyes on you and when you look, the man with the bangs was staring at you. He was outside in the expansive garden, staring at you through the large window panes, the little shocked expression still on his face. Feeling brazen, you bite your lip and make a show of adjusting your attire, even pulling up your mini skirt just a hair more. From here, you could swear you saw him lick his lips.

Satisfied with the attention, you turn back to your girlfriends and begin leading them through the house. The four of you easily fall into the comfort of chit chat while slowly making your way through the house. Eventually you find the.. Bar? Most house parties you were familiar with had the drinks located in the kitchen. But apparently this mansion came equipped with its own bar and several bartenders.

The four of you line up and offer the bartenders your sweetest smiles; immediately, four pretty looking drinks are lined up on the bar waiting for your consumption. Before you could make your exit, there was a sudden voice to your left, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was a jolt of reality, but you were slow to acknowledge the individual to your left. You started with the hand on the bar, it was so incredibly thick.. But you continue to trail your vision up his arm and to his face. There must have been less than a foot of space between you two and with this proximity you could examine every inch of his profile.. The way his black bangs obscured his vision but left his chiseled jaw on display. The veins in his neck throbbing with every word he spoke. You hurriedly took a sip of your drink before gathering yourself.

“Sorry, doll.. I don’t think you could handle this.” You whisper, glossy lips still resting on the rim of your glass. He was a lot taller than you were expecting, considering you were wearing four inch heels and still only eye-level with his jaw.. His perfect jaw. Your eyes were on his neck as he turned to face you, his own eyes heavily obscured by both bang and lid. It was a struggle to lift your eyes and meet his gaze but when you did, you held it as if your entire life depended on it.

“I can handle a lot of things..” he replied. His hand on the bar moved to your forearm and without waiting for confirmation, his thumb started to rub small circles on your skin. The touch sent a shiver through your body.

You cocked your head to the side while lowering your glass. Daringly, you returned the touch by simply booping his nose, “Mm. Aren’t you a big boy?” Coy smile spreading to the corners of your glossed lips.

He actually scoffed at your response, giving you just enough time to slither out of his hold. You walked away to find your girlfriends with an extra sway to your hips. You thought about looking over your shoulder but decided against it. This game was fun and you did not want him to know you were enjoying it.

You found your girlfriends in yet another living room, this one with a fireplace and an even more luxurious sofa. You sat on the arm of the sofa while Nayda and Rebecca sat in the center and Michelle on the other arm. The three of them looked up with expectant eyes but before you could relish them with the details, four of the eight insanely attractive men from earlier joined you in this new living room.

All of them were immaculately dressed: there was one with bright blue hair and an insane sense of style with a sinister smile to match, there was another whose face was so angular and his build so broad you thought he was a fighter, the third man had faded bleached hair and eyes so piercing it was difficult to make eye contact with him, and the fourth man was tall and a mixture of elegance, beauty, and a fierce edginess. They were all so breathtaking.

Nayda was the one to speak up this time, the alcohol emboldening her every move. But, to her defense, Nayda was always really good at making people feel welcome - it must have been her winning smile and sweet words. Soon, the conversation began flowing with all eight of you laughing and conversing as if you were the oldest of friends.

Somewhere between starting your drink and finishing it, you felt the warmth of a hand on your lower back. It was a gentle but firm touch, the kind of touch a favorite lover would use. You enjoyed it and thus were a little slow to identify the hand’s owner. When you finally did look up, eyes half-lidded from alcohol and merriment you were surprised to find the same man from before - the one with black bangs.

“Wooyoung!” The man with blue hair exclaimed. “There you are! We were wondering where you went.”

It took a moment for Wooyoung to break his eye contact with you before looking over to his friends. “Sorry, Brandon was showing me the theater.”

“Theater?!” All eight of you reacted at once. This caused Wooyoung to laugh and boy, what a sight it was. The cold expression of his softened and the laugh lines around his mouth deepened. He was still standing right behind you with his hand on your lower back but you were enamored by his face the moment it lit up with laughter.

“Yeahhh, come on. I’ll show you, he’s playing FIFA on the big screen.”

This caused all of his friends to bolt up and exclaim with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, your girlfriends were too busy watching them enjoy themselves to really respond. So you turned to them, “C’mon, let’s go watch the boys play FIFA.”

Wooyoung led the group of eight towards a floating staircase, "It's right upstairs, last room on the left.” He stood to the side and let his friends go first while your friends followed behind, leaving you and Wooyoung at the foot of the stairs. With drink in hand, you placed a hand on the balustrade and began your careful climb up the stairs.

You only managed to go up two steps before you felt a hand on your wrist and in a blink of an eye, your wrist was pinned up above your head, Wooyoung only a few centimeters away from your face. The sudden movement made your breath catch in your throat, and your eyes go wide. It was a surprise, but a welcome surprise. The momentary bewilderment on your face made Wooyoung smile something so smug and coy, it made you want to slap it off his face. So, you did the next best thing.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head ever so slightly so you were peering at him through your lashes. With one hand above your head and another holding your drink, your only option was to slowly slip your leg between his, pressing the top of your thigh to his crotch. His hold on your wrist loosened as he took another gulp of air.

“What are you waiting for, big boy?” The flush was quick to creep on his cheeks and tinge his ears a bright pink. With his grip on your wrist loose, it was easy for you to wriggle it free and drape it behind his neck, fingernails dragging ever so lightly along the sensitive skin of neck.

This caused him to full-on giggle and retreat, his hands rubbing at the place you were just touching, leaving you leaning on the wall with a small smile of bewilderment creeping up your cheeks. “You started it, why so shyyy?” You teased. Wooyoung simply shook his head.

He returned a hand to the small of your back to encourage you up the stairs. Though, as you were going up, you could feel your mini skirt going up ever so slightly and Wooyoung’s hand dipping further down the small of your back until his thick hand was resting on the top of your ass. You took another sip of your drink.

The two of you found the theater and found your friends engaged in a healthy FIFA competition; the blue-haired boy was concentrating on the screen trying his best to beat… Michelle? The sight made both you and Wooyoung laugh wholeheartedly and immediately forget about the interaction on the staircase. The two of you joined your respective friend groups and began cheering them on. But even though there was a room full of people, the only person you could keep your eyes on was Wooyoung.

The theater had three rows with six seats in each row. Your friend groups were hanging out in the front row, all very excitedly cheering on their respective FIFA champion. At one point you caught Wooyoung’s gaze and nodded toward the third row of seats. Again, he was so flustered that someone was flirting so openly and aggressively with him that his face turned another shade of bright pink.

You set your drink down somewhere and made your way up the third row, finding a seat in the middle. Wooyoung quickly followed and sat in the chair next to you. At this point, you were starting to feel a little guilty about the way you were treating him so when he sat down you placed your hand on his thigh and whispered the quickest, “I’m sorry.”

Instead of flustered, Wooyoung was simply confused, “Huh?” He managed to mumble.

“I’m not usually like this..” You squeak out, unable to meet his gaze. For the first time that evening, it was your turn to blush.

Then, you felt the warmth of his hand on the back of yours, causing you to look him in the eyes. And you continued to watch his face as his hand brought yours to the center of his pants, where a small tent was beginning to form. “I like it.. A lot.” His breath was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I’m usually the one being forward but it’s really hot to be wanted.”

The admission made your face flush.

“Why are you so shy? You started it.” The smug smile crept back on his face, deepening the blush in your cheeks. You wanted to quip back, to say something just as smug but all you could do was press your hand onto the burgeoning bulge in his pants. The smile on Wooyoung’s face slipped and he let out a shaky breath. This reaction brought your confidence back up and it was your turn to return the smug smile.

There was a sudden eruption of cheers behind you.

“Way to go Michelle!” cried out Rebecca.

“Let’s fucking GOOOOO!” Nayda roared.

You wanted to join in on the fun behind you but there was so much fun to be had right in front of you. Your grip on Wooyoung’s hardening dick tightened. And as the celebration behind you began to die down to cries of, “another round!” “Best out of 3!” “Move over, Joong, lemme try!” Wooyoung took this opportunity to wrap his large hands around your tiny waist and pull you into his lap. With legs on either side of him, his hands found their way underneath the mini skirt to take full handfuls of your ass.

You let out a shaky breath and try to settle into the new position. His hands were so big and so firm on your ass cheeks. He gave them a hearty squeeze and you could already feel the excitement building between your legs.

You placed both hands on his chest while arching your back, eager to feel his bulge press against the sensitive spot between your legs. That smug smile spread on his lips as he let go of one of your ass cheeks to grab the back of your neck, forcefully pulling your face close to his.

Your foreheads pressed together as his hips began moving against your form. His deep dark eyes watching yours as your bodies started synchronizing. With every roll of your hips, his hips were there to meet and reciprocate the feeling. It was slow, and deep. You could feel the complete length of his dick on your pussy every time you rolled your hips. You wanted more, you wanted to feel him inside of you. The fact that your friends were only a few feet away from you made you more excited - the promise of being watched or even caught made you press down harder on his crotch.

Wooyoung’s breathing was becoming irregular and shallow, grunts replacing some of his deeper breaths. You bit your cheek to quiet a moan. Wooyoung saw this and leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back, mischievous little grin on your pink lips. He scoffed at the action and retaliated by moving his hand from the back of your neck to the front, his fingers gripping at just the right spot.

Stars started to dot the corners of your vision from his grip and this time, you could not suppress the moan that fell from your lips. Luckily, it went unnoticed as the rest of the gang was still caught up in their friendly competition.

The lack of attention was a double-edged sword - you wanted your friends to see you like this, you wanted his friends to see you like this, but all you could focus on was the firm feel of his hard cock on your pussy. You began to dig your nails into his chest as the roar of another celebration erupted behind you.

With the possibility of being caught on the forefront of your mind, you press your hips further into his cock, the friction of his pants and your panties pushing you to the very edge. Wooyoung leaned in close to your ear, breath warm on the sensitive skin and whispered “Cum for me.”

You happily obliged, letting the warmth of the orgasm spread from the inside of your thighs throughout your entire body. The hand on your neck never loosened however, as Wooyoung was still chasing his high. In a final effort to absolutely destroy him, you bit your bottom lip and rolled off his body back onto the seat next to him, just as he finally came.

Without the feel of your pussy on his dick, the orgasm felt empty and ruined. In confusion, anger, and frustration, Wooyoung released your neck and simply sat there with his mouth open. You tried to get your breathing under control as you glanced over at the mess on his pants. You let out a lazy laugh and said, “You should get that cleaned up.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #i really just wanna tease him #hard hours #wooyoung thirst #x / y #x you smut #x reader #smut

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA for bringing cheese to my mother's house? I love my mother, but she buys bad cheese. It's the pre-shredded stuff with loads of additives and anti-caking agents that are fine for putting on salads or whatever, but she keeps buying them for applications where you need them to melt evenly, and the additives mean you get nasty clumps and a grainy texture (think sauces, etc). The cheese itself is often pretty bad quality in applications where the quality of the cheese REALLY matters. She invites me and my sister over for dinner and says we're making alfredo. My sister's doing the cooking but Mom went out to buy the ingredients, and says she got the good parm. She did not get the good parm. She got the worst parm imaginable. It was lumpy no matter what my sister tried, and the only way we could fix the taste was drowning it out in garlic. Yes I am a cheese snob, I know, I know. I buy The Good Parm. But Dad hates The Bad Parm too, and every time I've made him a dish with The Good Parm, he really likes it, so if I'm a cheese snob, so is my father. I would NEVER ask Mom to pay for this. She's on a fixed retirement income and she's treating us for all the other ingredients, so why shouldn't we treat our mother to a meal that actually tastes good? Something the whole family, including Dad, can enjoy? I'm happy to spend extra money where it actually makes a difference. I JUST WANT TO SHOWER YOU IN LUXURIOUS CHEESES, WOMAN. PLEASE LET ME. But something on my face must have shown when I saw the bag of The Bad Parm because Mom... I don't know that she looked offended exactly? I'm not trying to diss my mother's cooking. But she looked kind of sad. I don't know if she thinks she can't cook for her kids anymore without us complaining (we didn't say anything out loud to her, I swear). I never wanted to make her feel bad, I just... can't eat certain textures. I can't eat lumpy sauces. I can't do grainy stuff. I never want to be in a position where I have to turn down something my mom made special for me, and the best way I can make sure that happens is by supplying her with high quality ingredients. So if I smuggle secret good-quality cheese into my parents' house without letting them know where the mystery cheese in their fridge came from, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Complications

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot but can be read independently from the series ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Dieter shoots a watch ad | New Year's Eve

Summary: Dieter shoots a watch ad at a New Year’s Eve party. What could possibly happen - specifically in the VIP powder room - when the ball drops?

Warnings: !WATCH KINK!, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 2.3k

In horology, a complication is any feature of a mechanical timepiece beyond the display of hours, minutes and seconds.

Dedicated to Maddie @imaswellkid for loving watches on Pedro boys as much as I do 😘

‘Sweetheart. C’mon, stop pouting.’

‘I’m not pouting.’

Dieter brushes the pad of his thumb across your lips, pursed petulantly despite your denial. ‘You so are.’

You swat away his hand then cross your arms. ‘I’m scowling. There’s a difference.’

You’re not sure who made the executive decision to appoint Dieter Bravo as the brand ambassador of a watchmaker. The man’s never worn a watch in his life. Time is but a social construct to him.

But what’s done is done, and he will be launched as the face of their new line of luxury watches at a New Year’s Eve party hosted by the brand this very evening - a last-minute decision that’s upset your plans for your first new year together.

Pete is throwing a bash at the warehouse conversion he’s just moved into, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing your backstage friends from Resurgence since you got the invite. You pull out your phone to text him your apologies, which Pete responds to speedily with a string of sad face emojis, and follows up with a call to Dieter.

You can hear Pete whining through the receiver even though the phone isn’t on speaker as your boyfriend pacifies him. ‘Man, you know how much I wanted to come, but this work thing came up last-minute. We’ll make our way over right after the countdown, I promise. Yes, pinky promise.’

Your lips quirk despite your mood.

Hanging up as the car rolls to a stop in front of a swanky hotel, Dieter sighs at your long face. He leans over to press a kiss to your impassive lips, his brown eyes pleading. ‘I’ll make it up to you sweetheart, ok?’

‘Fine,’ you huff, softening just the tiniest bit as the car doors are flung open, and with one last smile at you, Dieter is whisked away by his PR team.

Midnight is still a few hours away, and the schedule is tightly packed with a photoshoot beforehand and filming of behind-the-scenes footage for social media. They settle you in the lounge of the presidential suite while Dieter gets ready in the other room, and you begrudgingly accept a glass of champagne and the plate of canapes they leave you on the coffee table.

You pace yourself, making the bubbles last. Pumped up dance music spills from his room as the door opens and closes with the rush of pre-shoot chaos. Garment bags, shoe boxes and makeup trolleys come and go as you entertain yourself with the glossy magazines on the coffee table while the PR team buzzes about, wired to earpieces and shouting orders into their phones.

You’re halfway through an embarrassingly engrossing magazine quiz - how hot is your sex life according to your fave side dish - when a shadow falls over you.

‘Sweetheart, we’re heading down to the party now. Come with?’

You can’t help but stare.

To be honest, you had no expectations whatsoever for this gig. You thought they would dress him up in a generic black suit, take some generic shots with him fiddling with his cufflink while showing off his timepiece like every other generic watch ad. It’s not like you don’t appreciate a sharp suit or a nice watch, you do - but it’s just not Dieter.

And it looks like the stylist heard your prayers.

Instead of a traditional two-piece, Dieter is wearing relaxed dress pants, a light knitted pullover tucked into them over a smart belt. Rounding off the ensemble is a smart knee-length black coat with sharp lapels. His signature sunglasses perch on the tip of his nose, his curls styled messily.

The sleeves of the coat are folded up to expose his strong hands, but what really catches your eye sits on his left wrist - a large, square-faced watch with a steel chain bracelet.

While you don’t count yourself a connoisseur, you know enough to recognise that this watch is the real deal. The time display is in refined Roman numerals, and an elegant moonphase complication sits at the top of the dial. The pièce de résistance is the small, circular window at the bottom of the face that offers a peek into the sacred inner mechanics - the tourbillon. Beneath the glass is a gorgeous criss-crossing of gold wheels, brass cogs, and silver springs, all tangled in perfect synchronisation, endless moving parts that tick and spin.

It is a beautiful watch, no doubt, and a hugely expensive one at that.

To your consternation, they’re letting him wear his ratty knitted bracelet he bought from a vendor on a farflung beach in Thailand on the same hand, as well as his rings with the black gemstones on his index and pinky fingers.

While unusual in theory, the contrast somehow pays off. The whole look just works - it’s Dieter. You could kiss the stylist on the mouth with joy even though your boyfriend is standing right there.

‘Sweetheart?’

Your eyes fall to Dieter’s palm, open and outstretched in invitation. Then they move just a few inches upward, lingering on the smooth steel encircling his wrist.

You swallow thickly and put your hand in his, letting him pull you onto your feet, knees wobbly. A shiver runs down the length of your spine when the watch brushes your skin.

It should come as no surprise to you that Dieter is just as good on the set of a photoshoot as a movie. He works the angles, ever aware of the lighting and the cameras, hitting pose after pose like the professional that he is.

The photographer’s assistant shows you the stills on a laptop as they snap. With the set outdoors in the dark, the raw lighting - bordering on harsh - lends a gritty overtone to the photos, the tone far more artistic than commercial.

There’s no tweaking of cufflinks or stale power posing here. Dieter’s smouldering at the camera, peeking through his hand while the watch takes centre stage. He’s raking his fingers through his hair, lips grazing the metal strap as he gazes into the lens.

But when he brings it to his mouth, biting the steel case with the pink of his tongue peeking through, your knees all but give out.

By the time the photographer yells it’s a wrap, you’re a mess. Tension hums under your skin and there’s a stickiness between your legs that puts you in a highly inconvenient position given that Dieter will be fully occupied for the next hour and a half. You adjust your dress as discreetly as you can, jumping when his palm lands warm on your back as he ushers you indoors before you can pull yourself together.

This party is not your scene. Formulaic pop music blares from the speakers, beautiful people mill about in sequins that sparkle under the disco lights and bounce off blindingly from mirrors everywhere you look. The only redeeming detail is the delicious champagne that flows liberally, at least that tempers the tedium.

Everyone wants a piece of him. Sometimes you find it hard to believe that this is the same guy who doesn’t know how to load a dishwasher. He handles the relentless demands with aplomb - a selfie with a fan here, a few words for New York Times Style magazine there, all the while performing for the live stream camera that trails two steps behind him.

You linger nearby, following discreetly while sipping on champagne. Even from a distance, the watch catches the light whenever he moves. Dieter notices you staring, jaw slack, more than once. But the harder you try to act normal, the more on edge you get. He sends you more than one quizzical glance over the top of his sunglasses, but with people buzzing around him like pesky wasps, it’s not until twenty minutes to midnight that he catches a break and drags you unceremoniously into the VIP bathroom.

The heavy oak door shuts out the blasted music as Dieter locks it behind him, wheeling you around with his grip on your elbows. ‘Alright sweetheart, what is it? Are you still mad about Pete’s party?’

You grit your teeth and force yourself to keep your eyes on his. ‘No.’

He sighs. ‘We can go afterwards. I told Pete we will, I just need to do this countdown thing and we can go right after.’

‘I said it’s not that,’ you insist, fighting the damn magnetic force trying to drag your gaze downwards.

Tugging you into his arms, Dieter traces his nose on your cheek. ‘C’mon sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.’

Your voice trembles. ‘I’m not lying, I’m fine.’

Clearly unconvinced, he arches an eyebrow at you before pulling back, cocking his wrist to check the time.

The whimper slips from you without you knowing, suspended in the air between you that thickens instantly like some chemical reaction.

Dieter looks at you sharply. ‘What was that, sweetheart?’

You give in and take a peek at his watch for just one second, but he catches you - of course he does. A cocky grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he drawls, ‘What have we here - found a new accessory that you like the look of?’

You whine, a hot flush of embarrassment in your chest. ‘I don’t know why it turns me on.’

‘What does? The fact that I can tell time?’ he teases. Splaying his left palm on the nape of your neck, the cold bracelet of his watch caresses the side of your neck. ‘First my rings, now this? You filthy girl.’

‘I can’t help it,’ you gripe.

Knowing exactly what it does to you, Dieter takes another exaggerated look at his watch, head tilted to the side. ‘We have fifteen minutes. Can you be quick, sweetheart?’

At your desperate nod, he backs you up into the full-length mirror on the far side of the powder room before spinning you around, crowding you against the cool surface. His entire body engulfs from behind you as he trails kisses down the side of your neck, watching your reflection squirm in his grasp from the corner of his eye. With no preamble, he bunches your tight skirt all the way up your hips and tugs your panties to one side impatiently.

‘Look at how wet those panties are,’ he moans into your ear. ‘Have you just been standing there checking me out, rubbing your thighs together all this time?’

A gasp catches in your throat. ‘Yes.’

His left palm trails down your body, and you stare openly as the watch skims over your body, the hard steel scraping the swell of your cleavage as it descends. You’re panting by the time Dieter’s fingers slide along your folds until the tips nudge your slick entrance, a cry wrangled from you when the watch falls to the base of his hand and the strap grazes your clit. With a growl, he presses his inner wrist into the sensitive apex of your thighs. ‘Feel good, baby?’

You make an incoherent sound when two thick digits slip into your sodden pussy. ‘Oh fuck, yes, please.’

‘Rub that needy clit on my watch, sweetheart,’ he orders, dark eyes on you. ‘Smear yourself all over it.’

You mewl and do as you’re told. Riding his fingers, you feel every ridge on the watch strap as you grind into the smooth steel, your movements crude and fitful. Dieter has to hold you up with his free arm wound tight around your waist while your hands cling to the back of his neck.

‘Fuck, you’re getting so wet,’ he says through gritted teeth, as if in awe, and pumps harder into you. ‘Oh yes, I feel your cunt clenching around me, you’re close, aren’t you?’

You moan, words failing you. ‘Don’t stop, please -’

‘Fuck, baby, you’re getting my watch all wet,’ he grunts, pinching your chin between his fingers, making you look at yourself in the mirror. ‘See how it’s shiny with your slick? So fucking pretty, sweetheart.’

You feel another gush of arousal drip down his hand, and his watch slips, the bracelet catching your clit in an angle that makes your back arch. You cum hard, writhing desperately in his grasp as he whispers filth into your ear through your high. ‘So good for me, baby, that’s it, such a good girl, dripping all over my expensive watch, you filthy thing -’

Dieter nuzzles your neck as you catch your breath, the scrape of his beard on your sensitive skin making you tremble and squirm in his grip. He gently eases out of you, sucking his fingers clean before turning you around and kissing you slowly and deeply so that you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You’re still drifting in the aftershock when a frantic series of knocks on the bathroom door shakes you out of it. With an irritated snarl, Dieter barks, ‘What?’

‘Um, Mr. Bravo - we’re five minutes from midnight, you need to come out right now -’

‘I can read the fucking time,’ he snaps and gives you an apologetic kiss to the temple. ‘Sorry baby, work beckons.’

Your hand shoots out of nowhere to grab him, and locking your gaze with him, you drag the flat of your tongue across the damp strap, tasting yourself on the metal.

His nostrils flare and you can almost hear his jaw crack, pupils blown wide and black as you give him a wicked grin. Snaking one palm all the way down to rub his straining erection, you breathe into his ear. ‘I want you to stroke yourself until you cum all over that fancy watch later, okay?’

He groans, burying his nose in your hair. ‘How am I going to count down with this huge fucking boner in my pants, baby?’

You wink and give him a full-mouthed kiss. ‘Just think of it as a countdown to something else after.’

Dieter chuckles against your lips. ‘Happy fucking New Year indeed, sweetheart.’

Notes: I finally did it. A watch kink fic! Honestly, it's not as wild as it could've been, but damn I had the best time writing it. Thank you for reading, wishing all you wonderful people a very happy new year! ❤️

As soon as it was became clear from the results that NYE was going to be paired with the watch ad prompt, I just knew instantly I had to set it in a NYE party. Thank you Hayley @haylzcyon for this request that went perfectly with my idea:

ooohhh don't feel pressured to write this in if you do the NYE prompt but the idea of a swanky NYE party where reader and dieter get a little tipsy, sneak off for a quickie in a coat room or something and realize they missed the ball drop when they come back would be hilarious. dieter can't imagine a better way to ring in the new year than between your thighs 😏

#dieter bravo oneshot #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #fuckyeahwatchkink

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redisaid · 5 months

Text

Learning by Doing

Uh, hi there. You guys voted for me to do bonus smut months ago and I forgot about it. Then I remembered and now we're here. Bon appetite. Have some very late pre-Third War elf love hotel sex magic fluff smut.

4709 Words

Read it on Ao3!

“This is a sex hotel,” Jaina observed, her hand still lingering on the ornate doorknob of the bedchamber of what was to be their private villa for the week.

“It’s a sex resort,” Sylvanas corrected, the buckles of their bags still slung over her shoulder jingling as she stepped behind Jaina to be greeted by the same view she was taking in. “There’s a hot spring, massage parlor, restaurant. You know, all of those sort of things.”

The view in question was of a massive bed, bigger than any Jaina had seen before, which dominated the otherwise warm and tidy room on the second floor of their own little spire. Unlike the sitting room across the way, which was completely lined with these, this room had only one large window facing a sea view, conveniently far from the bed. There was a doorway opposite it, no doubt leading to a bathroom. None of these things, however, gave away the purpose of the room.

No, that would be the arched alcove above the bed, inset with glass shelves, underlit by tiny magelights. From left to right, an assortment of bedroom accessories unlike Jaina had ever seen were on display, from more aggressively obvious ones such as a selection of dildos and restraints and paddles, to things she had to guess at the purpose of, like that rack of colorful potions in intricate little glass bottles.

And while Jaina would say that she didn’t necessarily dislike surprises, she was quite certain that this was not the destination she’d have guessed, or had any way of guessing, when her girlfriend had posed the idea of taking her on a surprise vacation. In fact, she had assumed and planned for much the opposite.

“You ass,” she said to the girlfriend in question, turning to find the Ranger General of Quel’thalas herself grinning and holding one hand up in some sort of apology.

“If you don’t want to be in a sex resort, then we can go,” Sylvanas offered. “Or we can just enjoy the spa activities and take this time to relax.”

“I packed for the outdoors. Hiking, hunting, fishing,” Jaina explained her offense. “Things one assumes their ranger paramour will take them to when they’re thinking of surprise vacation destinations.”

“You had talked about wanting to spend more quality time together,” Sylvanas retorted, her free hand still in the air, but shoulders shrugging regardless. The buckles on their bags jingled again. “And since you did so while you were about to pass out on my chest last time we--”

“I meant in general. And yes I talked about it in bed, and yes I enjoyed myself very much that night, but this was just not what I expected. I packed trousers and a sturdy jacket, not robes and negligees,” Jaina went on.

“Luckily, for this type of vacation, you don’t really need clothes,” Sylvanas noted, grin widening to the point of growing lopsided, the white of her fangs on full display.

How could Jaina stay annoyed at a face like that? The stern mask of the Ranger General had been gone before they’d even landed on the beach of this island resort, replaced by the goofy grins and cocky smirks of the woman few knew Sylvanas Windrunner to be. But Jaina got to see her, in bits and pieces like this, and regardless of the venue, would have enjoyed having a week of her to herself. She had to admit that doing so in a luxurious beachside private villa sounded much more pleasant than doing so in the mud of the forest floor.

“I can hear the gears grinding in your head,” Sylvanas noted. “So, out with those thoughts. Are we staying?”

Jaina leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Put the bags down, you unbelievable ass.”

A quick tour of the room told Jaina several things. One was that the large bed was both soft and firm at the same time, and the coverings that adorned it were a fine, soft linen. The connected bathroom was bigger than she expected, with a large soaking tub that faced a window overlooking the sea that would definitely see use later. It housed a collection of towels unlike any Jaina had seen before, but one she already found herself being grateful for. And as one might expect from a resort in the north sea, so near the Isle of Quel’danas itself, the entire place was buzzing with magic, absolutely alight with arcane energy. From the magelights that gave the rooms a soft and inviting glow, and could be brightened or dimmed with a mere word, to that rack of potions that still captivated Jaina, some aglow with that very magical energy.

Even her elven girlfriend seemed extra charged with arcane here, as Jaina exited the bathroom to find her sinking into the bed, eyes closed and limbs akimbo, seemingly testing the comfort of it.

Jaina took that opportunity to kick off her much too outdoorsy boots and climb atop her to explain herself. “I’m not mad,” she noted with a brief kiss on the bridge of Sylvanas’ nose. “Just surprised.”

“That’s the point of it being a surprise,” Sylvanas laughed beneath her, opening her glowing grey eyes to reveal that yes, the blue arcane sheen of them was a somewhat brighter shade here, somehow. “But I take it from the fact that you’re on top of me that it isn’t a bad one?”

“No. I think I can make the best of it,” Jaina told her with another kiss, this time aimed at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for booking it.”

“You’re most welcome,” Sylvanas said with another laugh. “And if you’d like to take a moment before we start the festivities, there’s snacks and champagne in the kitchen.”

“We’re in a sex resort, Sylvanas,” Jaina noted, this time kissing the other corner of that devious little mouth, which had curled upward into a smirk. “You didn’t bring me here to eat snacks.”

“I suppose I didn’t,” Sylvanas answered, pulling her into a proper kiss.

Teasing the sharp tip of fang with her tongue, Jaina wondered at how they’d ended up here, or together at all. A chance meeting in Dalaran had seen her befriending Sylvanas not long ago, introduced to her in a hurry at a restaurant by her younger sister and Jaina’s friend Vereesa. The defender of the high home of the elves herself then was suddenly full of excuses to come back to Dalaran after that, excuses that eventually led her to the bedchamber of the Kirin Tor’s newest agent not long after that. And now to celebrate the first year of their relationship, they were sinking into the bed of what was apparently a sex resort.

And Jaina didn’t mind it at all. This, she decided firmly, was much better than camping in the woods.

“What do the potions do?” was Jaina’s immediate question upon breaking that lingering kiss.

Sylvanas laughed beneath her, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold Jaina in place through her laughter. “I saw you eyeing them. That’s the first place you want to go?”

“I can sense the magic in them,” Jaina told her. “And frankly have never encountered magic geared toward sex before. Call it an academic interest.”

“Always academic with you,” Sylvanas teased, plainly ignoring the request to fiddle with the buttons of Jaina’s sensible cotton button up she’d worn expecting a day filled with a different kind of physical activity.

The labels on the bottles were no help. Though Jaina could read the Thalassian script with ease, the names on them meant nothing to her. Serpent’s Kiss? Leviathan’s Hunger? Cloud Nine? Even in a place as nice as this, the names might as well have been the same as some cheap love potion sold on the docks in Boralus to lonely and ignorant sailors. Jaina could only hope these weren’t just tinctures of low quality rum and lavender, not that she had any idea what was in those dockside love potions, not at all.

“You’re avoiding my question. And here I got the impression that you once frequented this place. At least you seemed to be very familiar with the way to this villa of ours,” Jaina noted.

“I’m just good with directions,” Sylvanas misdirected, freeing the first and second buttons from their hold on Jaina’s blouse.

“The receptionist said, ‘Welcome back General Windrunner’,” Jaina pointed out, taking her gaze from the potions to grab Sylvanas’ hand and stop her quest to rid her of that sensible cotton shirt.

“I may have frequented this place with other guests in different times,” Sylvanas acquiesced. “But I especially thought you might enjoy it, and must confess I’ve wanted to take you here for some time now.”

“So what do the potions do?” Jaina pressed, and slid Sylvanas’ hand into her partially open shirt in appreciation for that honesty.

“There are a lot of them,” Sylvanas noted, the warmth of her fingers tracing upon Jaina’s clavicle as she leaned back to look up at the rack of glowing colors. “Where to start?”

“Surely you have a favorite?” Jaina asked.

The wicked smile that lit up Sylvanas’ face told her she did. “I didn’t think we’d talk about the potions right away. I was planning on saving that for a little later in the trip, but you did ask.”

“In the interest of furthering my arcane studies, I think that I must insist, Ranger General,” Jaina demanded, propping herself up into a sitting position to cross her arms while still straddling the elf beneath her.

“Then let us not leave you uneducated any longer, my lovely Kirin Tor Agent,” Sylvanas said as she sat up with Jaina, balancing her in her lap, but also turning to pluck a potion off the rack in a flair of dexterous grace.

Sometimes, it was worth it to have a lover who was a devious little ranger at heart.

Said potion was Serpent’s Kiss itself, a glowing teal mixture in a vial shaped like a snake curled around a tree branch. A display of glass artistry that was worthy of something far more grand than a sex potion, but Jaina had to remind herself that this was Quel’thalas she was in. Everything was beautifully crafted and ornate, and if anyone would make pretty vials for their magic sex potions, it would be the elves.

Jaina decided then that she rather liked dating an elf. Well, she’d decided that many times before in this relationship--once for the access to new artisanal cheeses alone that came along with her visits to Quel’thalas--but decided again.

Sylvanas swirled the vial for her, still grinning like a cat that caught the canary as the contents glowed brighter for her efforts, and whirled in a storm of arcane sparkle.

“Let me preface this by saying that we do not have to make use of this, though I think you’ll enjoy it too. I shall tell you that for one, I drink it, and the effects last for four hours, or until I drink another potion that will reverse any of these, that clear one over there by the towels. As for the effect itself, that is best left to be learned by observation, if you’d like,” she offered.

“Then drink it,” Jaina challenged, finding an eager grin making its way to her own face. “And let me not linger waiting on another surprise.”

“Clothes off first,” Sylvanas said, and reached for those buttons again with the hand not holding the vial.

The bottle of glowing blue-green liquid was nearly lost three times in the process of their undressing. Jaina caught it the first time it slipped from Sylvanas’ hands as she pulled her sleeveless shirt over her head. Sylvanas took it from Jaina the second time and nearly dropped it in helping her shimmy out of her leggings. Her solution to this was to hold it in her mouth, but her fangs proved unwieldy to the point where she had to catch it again in the process of removing Jaina’s bra.

All in all, Jaina was almost laughing too much to be as turned on as she was by the time they were naked.

It was always like this with Sylvanas. The other lovers of her youth had been so serious in the bedroom. Sylvanas rarely was. She was serious everywhere else, a stern and hard woman who was difficult to please in the training grounds and apparently impossible to defeat on the battlefield. But in the bedroom, alone with Jaina, she laughed. She grinned. She smirked and whispered wicked things and terrible jokes in the same breath to the point where Jaina didn’t know whether to sigh in pleasure or in disgust at her lover’s abysmal sense of humor.

But she sighed all the same, and loved her more for it.

Sylvanas gave the vial one more shake, exciting another surge of arcane glow from it before she popped the cork and downed the contents. “Again, there’s no pressure to do anything you don’t want to,” she stated as she took a deep breath after swallowing. “But I think you’ll have fun with this.”

This didn’t seem to be anything. Jaina wasn’t really sure why she had to watch a demonstration of this potion, though she hardly complained about looking at her lover’s body. Sylvanas with lithe and fit, with an archer’s broad shoulders, and muscles that formed a V shape from her abdomen pointing downward to…something new. A glowing teal appendage that was most certainly not there a moment ago, erect and ready.

“You have a dick,” Jaina noted most astutely.

“Excellent observation,” Sylvanas said with another laugh.

“Then what are all the dildos for?” Jaina asked, puzzling for herself as she scooted toward Sylvanas.

“Their own kind of fun,” Sylvanas answered. “Different from this.”

“Different how?” Jaina asked.

An answer came to mind in the set of Sylvanas’ lips and the way her tongue ran across them. An answer, like many, that was best found in observation. The construct between Sylvanas’ legs was warm to Jaina’s touch, as she wrapped an exploratory hand around it, and found that it had a pleasant texture in addition to the temperature. Not exactly like skin, but still soft, and hard where it needed to be. Buzzing with arcane in a way that was pleasant to her magically inclined senses, almost as if alight with a faint electric hum.

And the fact that Sylvanas let out a little grunt as she circled her thumb around the head of it told her what she needed to know. “You can feel it?” Jaina asked anyway.

“I can feel that that feels very nice,” Sylvanas told her.

A thousand questions sprang to mind. How did this work? What combinations of enchantments did that potion contain? How were they balanced so perfectly? And who in all of Azeroth had the time to figure that out?

Whoever it was, Jaina was most grateful for their work. Another stroke wrung a low moan from Sylvanas’ throat, and she decided that she was extremely grateful.

But she had one question lingering on her mind, far more pressing than the others. “Can you come with this?” Jaina asked.

“If you keep doing that, I just might,” Sylvanas warned, gently reaching for Jaina’s hand to still it where it gripped the arcane cock. “And to prevent you from asking the question I know will follow this one, yes, there is a result of sorts from that. I’m told it’s quite pleasant for a magic user, as it is arcane in nature. For that reason too, it leaves little in the way of mess to clean up. Very convenient.”

“One more question, I promise,” Jaina ventured, letting go to bring Sylvanas’ face to hers and draw her in for a kiss. “Me on top, or you?” she asked against her lips.

Sylvanas’ answer came in the form of further observation, and she sank into that offered kiss, and used it to distract Jaina from the tight hold she took of her waist, flipping her down onto the mattress in the process.

While the circumstances and venues in which that had happened before were different, Jaina enjoyed them all, but perhaps was most excited for this one. She was just as happy to be on top, of course, but being underneath Sylvanas was always a good time. Even better now if she could enjoy it at the same time.

They’d used their share of toys in the past, and those were fun. Not as fun as this, or the sigh Sylvanas let out as the construct rubbed against Jaina’s thigh.

She kept one arm around Jaina, holding her close, and braced herself up on her elbow. And for a moment, she just looked at her, smiling.

“What?” Jaina asked.

“I think this is going to be a wonderful vacation, that’s all,” Sylvanas told her before kissing her again.

And despite the stiff insistence poking at Jaina’s leg, she kept kissing her. Along her neck and jaw, dragging the points of her fangs over the rounded shell of Jaina’s ear. Peppering her collar bones with little red marks.

Jaina, for her part, was more than ready to experiment with this new magic and learn by doing, but she allowed this teasing. She encouraged it, actually, running her nails across the broad plane of Sylvanas’ upper back, kissing along her long, pointed ears. She enjoyed the softness of her too, not just her hard elven angles, but the plush skin of her thighs, her breasts, the tender spot just below her jaw that always made her hiss when Jaina sucked on it a little.

There was a reason she put up with this haughty, off elf of hers after all. Not only did Jaina love her, but she loved loving her. She was, in fact, very glad to be in a place dedicated to that act, and with a week to continue exploring exactly what all these potions did.

Though this one, she thought, would probably be a favorite of hers as well.

Jaina knew for certain it would when she reached down between them and ran a hand over the stiff length again, feeling Sylvanas go tense at her touch.

“Inside,” was Jaina’s breathless command, and one that she guided Sylvanas to follow.

The sensation was both familiar and strange. The sense of fullness and warmth and the familiar aching stretch were there, of course. But with them was a jolt of arcane energy that at first made Jaina want to jump, but then settled into a pleasant hum that flowed through her body. She felt like a harp string plucked, made to play a pretty note, only hers came out as a shuddering breath.

Sylvanas too, seemed lost in the sensation, entering her slowly and fully, then stilling for a moment. She gave one tentative roll of her hips, then another, before letting out a moan that transformed into a sentence, “Gods Jaina. You feel amazing. I should have taken you here earlier.”

“Please tell me that we can get more of this potion to go,” Jaina mumbled as Sylvanas moved inside of her again, slow and deliberate.

“I’ll buy us a case,” she promised as she hilted herself.

Sex of this sort was good. Jaina liked any form of penetration, really, but seeing her lover so clearly enjoying her for it was something else. Even the men she’d been with before weren’t so reverent in fucking her as Sylvanas was. Each cant of her hips drew a new sound from her Jaina had never heard before. A new whispered praise. A new prayer to gods both foreign and familiar. And for her part, Jaina couldn’t get enough of it. The cock, the compliments, the building of a too quick crescendo, roiling her abdomen as Sylvanas fucked her.

She managed to open eyes that had long since screwed shut to look down between them, both amused and aroused by watching the arcane glow sink in and out of her.

“This is incredible. You’re incredible,” Jaina told Sylvanas.

Sylvanas seemed determined to keep this slow rhythm, hardly changing her pace even as she hefted Jaina up a bit with the arm beneath her, changing the angle just a bit. But gods what a welcome change it was, as each slow grind of her hips gave Jaina some extra friction against her clit now. Sylvanas seemed to realize this, and thrust deeper in, hardly pulling herself out at all, in order to keep the pressure up.

“That’s…” Jaina didn’t have to say it. They both knew. They could both feel it now. Her in the way she tightened around the construct, and in the way Sylvanas’ rhythm began to falter.

But that brought another incessant question out from Jaina’s lips, one that needed immediate answering, because she wasn’t ready for this to be over. “Does it stay hard if you come?”

“Mmm, yes. But just for asking that, I will make sure you come first,” Sylvanas warned through panting breaths.

It was a threat Jaina was fine being on the receiving end of. One she didn’t really have much hope of countering either. Her body was on a determined course, and there was little that could change it at this point. Even as Sylvanas slipped down from her elbow, her full weight resting now on Jaina, it only made it better. Her hot breath in Jaina’s ear, Jaina’s lips and teeth on her neck.

Jaina felt her body seize and clench and gods was it good. Back arched, mouth open, and Sylvanas buried as deep as she could go inside of her, she came hard. Hard enough that she was sure the hand not fisted in the sheets left a trail of angry red against Sylvanas’ back, doubly so as the elf’s hips lost their rhythm and thrust fast and wild into her.

That was soon followed by a rush of warmth that filled her, both literally and figuratively. A liquid of sorts imparted a wave of energy across Jaina, tingling her from her toes to the crown of her head. She felt as though the ends of her golden hair might spark alight with arcane. And that she might just come again for the sensation of having made Sylvanas spend herself within her, magical as it was otherwise.

“Fuck,” was all she could say to express any of that as Sylvanas went limp atop her, save for the smile that curved in the lips against Jaina’s cheek.

They caught their breath together until Jaina had recovered enough to seek Sylvanas’ lips for a kiss. “You should have brought me here earlier,” she told her as she pulled away.

“I knew you’d like it here,” Sylvanas hummed back at her, cocky even as she enjoyed the afterglow, eyes closed, head nestling atop Jaina’s chest.

But Jaina was invigorated, nerves set newly alight by that surge of arcane. And the delight of discovery, of course. Sex magic, who would have known? The elves. Of course the elves.

A tentative roll of her hips told Jaina that yes, Sylvanas was still indeed hard, still inside her, and still quite sensitive from the little moan she let out.

But Jaina wasn’t quite done with her experimenting, or with her questions. And she also very much wanted Sylvanas to come inside her again, if it felt like that every time. How was this place not crawling with eager mages? Well, maybe she didn’t see many on their way in because they were busy in their own rooms. No wonder.

It was her turn to flip them over, cautiously. And while Sylvanas did slip out in the process, Jaina sat right back down on the construct as soon as she was atop her lover, eliciting yet another almost pained groan.

“So what do the others do?” Jaina asked as she began to roll her own hips.

“Insatiable,” Sylvanas scolded, even as her hands went to Jaina’s thighs to guide the movement.

“I like this one, but I want to know all of my options,” Jaina told her.

“I meant the fact that you’re already going for round two, but you’re insatiable in both regards,” Sylvanas scolded.

“You make an adorable face when we’re doing this, do you know that?” Jaina asked.

Said adorable face was highlighted by a pair of wide grey-blue eyes, pupil dilated enough that Jaina could see it beneath the arcane overglow even. Long brows furrowed against the sensation that must have been amazing, even if Sylvanas had experienced it before. Jaina noted that she’d have to ask her later if these elixirs would work on a human, because they would definitely be trying the reverse if so. But most tempting was a fan of silvery blonde hair that spread beneath her, one that Jaina couldn’t help but tuck behind a long ear as she rode her.

“Tell me what the other potions do. Let’s see how many we can get through before you come again,” Jaina challenged.

“You’re going to be the death of me before this week is through,” Sylvanas grunted, but began to meet her thrusts with her own all the same.

“Don’t make it zero now, that’s no fun,” Jaina teased, running her hand down from Sylvanas’ face to her breast, and eliciting another gasp from her for it.

“The red and blue are temperature play. Red makes you a little hotter, blue a little colder. They’re topical, not for drinking,” Sylvanas explained.

This was addicting. The rhythm of their meeting hips, the way Sylvanas’ face betrayed her pleasure every time Jaina took her fully inside. And the way she felt in there, hard and soft and buzzing arcane. Jaina could see now why the elves would be addicted to magic. Anyone would be if it came like this.

“The cold one sounds interesting,” Jaina noted.

“It’s awful. The warm one though, I do quite enjoy,” Sylvanas told her.

Jaina wanted to make a quip about elves and their love of all things hot, but Sylvanas thrust up in a way that brushed a spot inside her that made her buck unbidden, and she lost the words she was looking for.

“Purple…makes you float,” Sylvanas informed her, though her glowing eyes had shut once again, and could hardly see the color she was identifying.

Her hands gripped Jaina’s thighs, holding on for dear life. Holding her in place too, so that she kept hitting that spot. Holding her so that Jaina could barely get out a chiding, “That’s only three, love.”

“Orange gives,” a moan, a breath, a pant, a mumbled curse. “Mirror image spell.”

Jaina had to give in then, falling atop her lover to kiss the beads of sweat forming on her brow. Gods this feeling, this closeness, this symphony of magic and pleasure. She was going to have a hard time wanting to do anything else but this for the rest of the week.

“One more,” Jaina pleaded. “One more before you come inside me again.”

“Green,” was the only word Sylvanas got out before she did, in fact, come again.

The arcane rush and frantic thrusts that followed sent Jaina to her own soaring heights again too. One intense orgasm so quickly after the other was enough to leave her dizzy and limp, draped over Sylvanas for her efforts, sated but not, awakened to a new world which required much more exploring, but perhaps in need of a few moments rest before she could continue. A few moments she intended to enjoy being held and feeling full and loved.

“Green,” Sylvanas started again, but couldn’t catch her breath to finish.

“I don’t care about green. Green can wait,” Jaina mumbled into Sylvanas’ hair. “I love you and I love this. I want to do this until I’m too sore.”

“There’s a potion for that too,” Sylvanas informed her.

“I think I love it here,” Jaina observed, though it was up to her girlfriend to determine if that comment was about the sex resort, or riding out their arcane-tinged afterglow in her arms.

It was both, truthfully.

#sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #sylvaina #fanfic #smut #when you bring your nerd girlfriend to a sex resort and she gets off on trying to figure out the sex magic #much of this can be blamed on one person who knows who they are #yeah you

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springw6ter · 8 months

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Hi (nyfw thoughts)

Ok so first I just want to say that this fashion week was so boring and really sums up the kind of good idea drought we’re living in. BUT there was a fair share of discussion over some things so! instead of trying to fit my thoughts about everything on the app formerly known as twitter, I’m just gonna tell y’all here.

Shows talked about in this post; Proenza Schouler, Eckhaus Latta, AREA, Luar, Helmut Lang, Elena Velez and Tory Burch

Proenza Schouler

There’s no way Proenza was going to ruffle any feathers this season. They have a loyal following (which I’m sure has nothing to do with the celebrity affiliations of the brand) and a consistent history of people pleasing so they’ll always get their praise from Vogue. They dropped a new monogram which is the only “newness” they wanted to introduce. Jack McCollough said they wanted to continue last seasons narrative and they sure did! (Only thing different was no Sevigny). The clothes are obviously well made and evoke wealth in that special kind of iykyk way. Many people said this looked more like Helmut Lang than Helmut lang did (I’ll get to that later) and they’re not entirely wrong. Not gonna act like I wouldn’t wear this collection but definitely nothing groundbreaking.

Eckhaus Latta

Eckhaus latta is a brand that has always had a special place in my heart (maybe because I’m from the city that the two designers met and started the brand together in)(maybe). My style has definitely evolved since I first became aware of the brand but I’m always interested in what they’re doing. This season they got experimental! They worked with a 3D printing company named “Unspun” where they came up with jeans made from all different materials like hardware store twine and ikea plastic bags. The way they combined tech innovation and sustainability is not just commendable, it’s very forward thinking, which is a staple in the brands identity. With that being said some of the collection felt directionless in comparison to all of the innovation. The sheer (which dawned their new EL monogram) was very MNZ store to me but not in a bad way. I like that they’re not trying to be trendy and come up with new things however a-lot of brands were doing that so it makes me wonder if that’s a good thing or not.

AREA

I loved their modern Stone Age ladies. I think it was one of the only luxury focused shows where I was like wow! This is different. The fur printed coats were so gaudy and held its shape in the way good ol’ fur coats used to. I think this collection was really cohesive, adventurous, new. Everyone saw Saweetie wear it at the VMAs and even the unfashionable general public could see the yabba dabba reference. The prehistoric influence was chosen because as Piotrek Panscyzk said “pelts and bones were the first things humans had to build an identity around”. There’s definitely a case for a narrative about how much luxury (the hunger, the status) mirrors pre historic, pre civilized behaviors.

Luar

Raul Lopez is a diamond. This collection kind of came of as a continuation of last season as well but I like this brand so much that it feels good to me. I feel like Raul is constantly playing with this really restrictive, God-fearing way of being and an inhibition-less eternality. Padded shoulders, the top draped from the eyewear, perfect collared shirts, jeans and leather, it had all the perfect Luar moments for me. No notes.

Ok.. now on to the “controversial” shows

Helmut Lang

When Peter Do was announced as the new creative director of Helmut Lang, everyone rejoiced. Why? His strengths as a designer seemed like a natural fit for the brand. Expert tailoring, black and white as a main color palette, maybe a little overlap in philosophy.. but as the outfits came out people’s reactions… were… unfavorable to say the least. People saw the reference to key Lang moments like seat belt bondage, the use of Ocean Vuongs poetry (which I felt was terribly misunderstood), the classic button up and jeans as disappointing instead of nostalgic. For me, personally, I think everyone’s expectations were rooted in something that Peter Do could not have delivered. That expectation being Helmut Lang himself. People saw Do as the second-coming and that’s just the truth but where do we draw the line with our expectations on reliving the past and how do we honor the kind of openness necessary to evolution? I myself had to sit with the collection and came to the conclusion that maybe Peter is just defining a clear end to the Helmut era of yesterday and the start of his own journey now. After closely looking at the collection and it’s details you can see how wonderful the clothes really are. It is everyone’s responsibility to question and examine the things they “care” about and I think this fashion public is not patient enough for that. It wasn’t the greatest debut but it also wasn’t the worst. Anyway we’ll see what comes next.

Elena Velez

Mud gate ss24! Since her NYT article last year, people have been really fed up with Elena (I learned only after the mud fight started to circulate) and she doesn’t really seem to mind, she seems to like it actually. She argues online, she argues IN lines, she doesn’t pay people adequately and the list apparently goes on and on. This collection is called “the longhouse” and in her press release she says a lot of things about the commercialization, sanitization, condemning and control of womanhood, she talks about anti-heroines and contemporary female evil (which she loves to embody I guess) and she says that this show was ritualistic catharsis from oversocialization. I think it’s pretentious when someone has to use so many complex, institutionalized words to convey their message. She’s speaking in code. To be honest I like her clothes but I don’t think her designs are that original. I really want to raise the question who does her message benefit? We should all be allowed our multiplicity in this life, that’s true, but being a bad person in practice is something I’m personally not attracted to. I’m a little confused but it is what it is.

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO TORY BURCH!!!!

Who I think should be receiving a cease and desist from Miuccia Prada any moment now. This collection is such a departure from the Tory Burch we all grew up with. This must be that post divorce clarity. I like it! It’s 60s. It’s Prada. It’s miu miu. It’s Tory Burch now too!

If you made it this far I really appreciate you ♡ this was just for ki’s sake. It’s not my most critical thinking to date but there was discussion and I loved that. I wanted to contribute and this was the best way I could think of. Lmk if I should do this again with lfw!!

#nyfw #new york fashion week #eckhaus latta #proenza schouler #area #ss24 #spring summer 2024 #helmut lang #peter do #elena velez #luar #tory burch

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confidential-couture · 12 days

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ging-pegger · 2 years

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sunkissed - kite x reader

a/n: this is . hella self indulgent fluff & based off my own personal hcs along w a mut of mine's hcs :] warnings: none, takes place during the chimera ant arc pre gon and killua's arrival. word count: 569

the tranquil sound of the stream's running water was a blessing to your mind, you could only anticipate the cooling of your skin as you rushed to strip down to next to nothing and enter the almost crystal clear waters.

your boyfriend, kite was attempting to hold back a chuckle as you excitedly rushed into the water, it felt like heaven, the dirt debris and sweat being whisked away from your skin and hair as you submerged yourself in the water.

he dropped his bag to the ground and stripped, collecting your clothing as well as his own. although you couldnt use soap on them, it was nice to run them through the water, it would still refresh them without harming the environment, or smelling too much of man made substances, tipping off the creatures you were hoping to research.

he hummed softly to himself, entering the water himself, his lanky figure more apparent while bare. the water didnt come up nearly as high on him as it did you, and so he opted to sit down, he too enjoyed the cool water rising on his body, a contrast to the blazing sun.

the two of you stayed quiet for a while, the peace was nice, you had been so exhausted from your work. eventually, you made your way over to the man, and began running your fingers through his hair, which given his height was only about half wet.

"lean back..." you hummed, he quietly obeyed, now his head was in your lap, his long hair flowing in the direction of the water. you gave him a kiss to the forehead.

"you missed..." he spoke, looking up at you.

"what?" You furrowed your brows, confused as to how you could have missed when you clearly kissed his forehead.

"my lips are down here.." he reached a hand up to bring your face closer to his, in response you pressed your lips to his, fighting back a smile at how absolutely dorky he was.

"you're such a nerd, you know that right?" you mumbled, kissing him once more for extra measure, you then began to run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp to not only relax him, but attempt to clean his hair. without the luxury of soap, the two of you had found yourself in pretty bad hygiene.

"well this nerd is all yours." he let out a content sigh, his eyes closing peacefully as he enjoyed his pampering.

after the two of you were satisfied with your time in the water, you dried off and changed into a 'fresh' set of clothes, building a fire to dry your previously rinsed out ones.

the sun was setting, and night was creeping upon the horizon leaving the two of you with little to do, you didn't dare leave your camp site, so you took to styling kite's hair. he sat down on the ground in front of you, while you sat on a stump by the fire.

given its length and thickness, his hair was still relatively damp, making it easy to manage as you sectioned it out and braided it, securing it in place with one of your own hair ties. you leaned forward, draping your arms around his shoulders and began to pepper his face with kisses.

"i love you." he broke the comfortable silence, by saying those three little words for the first time.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh 2011 #kite #kite x reader #kite hxh #kite hunter x hunter #hxh kite #chimera ant arc

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invisibleraven · 4 months

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"You still sleep with a stuffed animal?" Sweet tarts

Carrie let the smile slide from her face as the door to the hotel room closed behind her. Finally alone. She all but ripped the pink wig from her head, tossing it on its stand, and made quick work of getting out of her Pink Candi garb, and washing the make-up off.

Becoming Carrie Wilson once more.

Carrie who wore comfy clothes and wore her honey blonde hair in a messy bun with a clean face. Carrie who ate junk food while watching trashy TV. Carrie who wasn't an international pop sensation with demands for her time and talent.

She knew it had been what she wanted-the fame, the adoration. And she had done it without her father's name or money, even if no one knew who she was. Performing behind a moniker had it's own cost, but it meant she got a private life, and no one accused her of being a nepo baby.

But it was also exhausting, living a double life, on top of being famous and maintaining relationships with people who only knew one side of her. Thus her being glad for a reprieve for tonight-a night in, even if it was in a hotel.

Only her peace was broken by a knock on her door. Carrie scowled, and peered through the peep hole, sighing with relief when it was only Reggie. He was her oldest friend, and technically her assistant, even if he moreso functioned as the one keeping her sanity intact.

"Hey Reggie," she said opening the door. "Please tell me there's nothing going on that requires me leaving this room."

"Just wanted to go over the schedule for tomorrow," he said with an apologetic smile. "But I brought you snacks." He held up a bag full of her favourite bars, chips, and candy, so he was automatically forgiven.

"You may enter," she said, waving him inside and closing the door behind them.

Reggie whistled as he took in the suite. "Nice digs."

Carrie shrugged, each hotel room seemed to blend together this far into the tour. The same stiff mattress, the same smell of industrial detergent, the same luxury chocolates on the pillow. All it really did was made her long for her home back in Malibu.

"And who is this?" Reggie asked, picking up the small bunny that had been nestled amongst her pillows. "You still sleep with a stuffed animal?"

Carrie snatched the bunny back, holding it to her chest. "Shut it."

Reggie stifled a laugh as he sat on her bed. "Carrie, you know I, of all people, am not going to judge you. I wear cartoon jammies and half my boxers still have superheroes on them."

Carrie wrinkled her nose at that, but then laughed. "Fine, this is my bunny that my dad bought me after he adopted me. I've had it all my life. It's a little reminder of home, of who I really am when the whole Pink Candi thing becomes too much."

Reggie sobered at that. "Yeah, I get that. It must be hard to be a secret to everyone."

Carrie sat down next to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "Harder than you know."

"Well I know my opinion doesn't mean much, but I always prefer the real you," he whispered, tangling their hands together.

"It means so much," she replied, though it was so quiet and soft Reggie had to strain to hear it.

"How about we forget the schedule and pig out while watching Queer Eye?' he suggested.

"That sounds heavenly," Carrie admitted. "Go get your jammies on, we'll make it a real slumber party."

Reggie gave her a salute and took off, coming back a little later in his Star Wars pyjamas and holding a stuffed Chewbacca doll. "I figured your bunny could do with some company."

"You dork," Carrie said over a stifled giggle.

Reggie grinned. "You love me regardless."

Carrie softened at that. "Yeah, I really do."

Reggie blushed, and then coughed, turning on the television, opening the bag of treats. "Come on, let's get our slumber party on."

Carrie nodded and sat next to him, pulling out a bag of Skittles while Reggie chose the chocolate covered pretzels. Neither said anything as they drifted closer and closer as the snacks dwindled or how they were pretty much in each others arms as their eyes drifted closed.

Carrie just knew when she woke up snuggling Reggie, their stuffed animals sitting on the pillow above their heads that she had never slept better. And when he opened his eyes, a soft smile on his face, she finally saw everything clearly.

And he saw her right back.

#filled prompts #ficlet #jatp sweet tarts #julie and the phantoms

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popcornforone · 7 months

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Warmth

A Post Outbreak Joel Miller Fan Fic

This might turn into a series by the way with all the different Pedro characters haven’t decided yet… update it has click here

This was not even an idea 1 day ago & then I was just sitting here looking at something & I thought, I wonder what different Pedro characters would do on autumnal nights. I already have something for Dieter in a few weeks time but Joel was the first person I could place in a situation & now here I am. Posting this for you. So you might get even more soon.

Synopsis:- You are on the run with Joel, & you’ve been staying in random barns, but a 2 day rest at a much grander house, brings about some changes to your dynamic .

Word Count:1800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! mainly fluff. Mentions of sex & pulling out, friends to lovers but established sexual relationships, mentions of sex happening & how you please each other but nothing too much. Swearing, caring, mentions of being sick & past trauma. This is post out break Joel so he is a broken guilty man.

As always thanks for the read peoples. All feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

Joel is concerned, you’re both in the run, you aren’t staying in one place for to long at the moment. Neither of you want to be caught by the beasts that are chasing after you. They almost did 4 days ago but Joel working out how to get voltage back into an electric fence 8 miles away slowed them down.

You’re so tired. You knew this would be the case when he knocked that guy out. You didn’t even have the time to explain Tommy. Joel literally grabbed both your emergency bags & you took off. & you’ve been travelling for the last month. Avoiding all the infected, not seeing another soul. Breaking into barns & old houses. Sharing the same bed for safety, the occasional session of passion which you both said would keep you warm as the evenings got darker as autumn set in. The way he broke down after the first time, made you realise he still carried demons from outbreak day & what he lost. Neither of you ever talk about that day, it’s still painful all these years later. Your sex since turned into at least an every other day thing, no longer for warmth or protection but because you both crave each other touch & as it’s likely you will both be the only people the other sees & it had always been unspoken between you, it was always going to end up with this. The only thing neither of you really enjoy is the fact that he pulls out. Impregnating you would not help either of you.

3 days ago you both reached what in a pre outbreak world, would have been a mayoral house. Gated, large drive, hidden but still had luxuries in it & running water. If someone else was using this grand house, they weren’t around. You both,armed with your guns, cleared each room. No person or infected in sight.

“2 night” Joel said as he headed for the shower on the first day. Stubborn & to the point. But it had to be. You knew you had to keep moving for at least another 2 weeks to be completely off the grid & away from the menaces who were after you.

You offered to sleep in a different bed to Joel on the first night, but he then lingered at your door frame for a kiss good night. The kiss good night, then turned into clean cuddles, before he hoovered above you as your body’s moulded together as one. He smelt as fresh as he could, clean & refreshed, in fresh sheets. It would be a waste to pass up on this. The way he took it slowly & how his plump lips cradled yours. It was the first time in 13 years you had forgotten you were living in the apocalypse as he whispered sweet nothing into your ear as you moaned his name. Joel made the end of humanity bearable. He clearly felt something similar, he didn’t leave your side at all yesterday. It was like you were two feral teenagers again, except he was nearly 50 & you were in your mid 30s. The way his hands slipped inside your jeans to tease you, before he made love to you on a dresser in the hall way. The way you made out with him, as you trimmed his hair in the bathroom before he squirted you with water so he could take your top off to suck on your nipples. This was like a honeymoon, being unable to keep your hands off each other.

But it’s now today. You’ve woken up with a migraine. No sex. No light. No big movements. Joel could tell you weren’t well when you stumbled down into the kitchen. Whiter than a ghost. Bags under your eyes, squinting, struggling to focus, or walk in a straight line.

“I’m fine” you protest “we said only 2 nights rest” you rummage through your bag that you always have with you, for your medication. Then you started to feel dizzy. You don’t remember much but Joel does.

“Fuck, are you….” he says as he sees you go off balance & he grabs you before you completely pass out & hit your head on anything in the kitchen. “I got you, I’m here” he carried you to the sofa & laid you down. He takes his coat he was about to put on, under your head & he tries to pull the curtains in the lounge, some won’t budge at all. He rummages through the cupboards in the room, no blankets or anything. So he goes into his bag pulling out the clean flannel that you washed yesterday. He drapes it over you. & then he stands there. He could leave. They are after him after all, not you. He could easily leave you alone, keep moving by himself. But could he live with the guilt if he left you here, what would happen to you. You could handle yourself, but would you just be another death on his conscious. He should leave right now he keeps telling himself as he paces around, as you recover.

You eventually wake up. The coat you’ve been hugging, you instantly recognise the smell of Joel on it. The flannel is even more comfort as you stretch. A fire roars in-front of you keeping you even warmer. You wobble a little bit as you sit up & suddenly large firm hands hold your shoulders.

“Slowly baby” Joel says calmly.

“Joel”

“Who else?”

“I thought you’d be gone, every man for themselves, right?”

“Yes but I couldn’t just leave you here”he says as his head rests in the back of the sofa, looking at you with those big eyes, & his fluffy hair, which you reach to ruffle. He smiles each time you do that. A small little affectionate moment, which you even had before you became lovers. “I’d never forgive myself” you fully face him as you sit on your knees on the sofa. His lips are soft as you kiss them. This isn’t a hungry kiss. It’s a kiss that says so much more than that.

“Thank you Joel. If I’m going to be hunted & caught, I want my last few moments to be holding your hand smiling knowing that for a month my life was not so horrible.”

“Same beautiful, same” the next kiss is much deeper. A wave of emotions pour over you both.”together?” He asks.

“Together” you then pause the kissing for a second. “Is that smell what I think it is?”

“Yes, it’s a bit stale but would you like some?” He raises an eye, he can see you nap has helped you out a little. You cheeks show more life in them. Your souls is coming to life.

“I would say is the pope a catholic, but there is no pope anymore” you giggle.

10 mins later Joel brings down a duvet from upstairs for you to both sit under. You’ve now put his flannel on. It’s green & black & you’re watching the fire wisps crack as they head up the chimney. Joel then proudly brings in 2 mugs of coffee, which you’ve not drunk any of it about 2 years as it’s hard to come by, & he’s also got some of the bread you still had & poured baked beans on on top of it. You smile as he hands you your food. Your heads rest against each other on the side as you eat & you both watch the fire burn & the autumn leaves fall down outside from the curtains that wouldn’t shut. The old oak tree outside lasting longer than humanity did. The leaves all crisp as they fall, oranges, browns, yellows & reds, which will all be crisp to walk on.

“Is this okay?” Joel asks.

“More than okay Joel” you say as you try to slowly eat the beans. But to have the luxury of eating something in doors & having time to do it & neither of you care anymore, & you also being starving, makes it difficult, so you sip the coffee. The rush of the caffeine hits your system & a smile at an old but familiar taste fills your mouth. “Well it’s not quite an almond Latte but oooh that’s proper coffee that”

“Can you believe that 13 years ago all we cared about was getting coffee & wondering what to waste our time on?” You both have a little laugh at that as his hand finds yours to stroke your knuckles.

“For all of 3mins I forgot the world was ending Joel” you say & both your faces drop for a few seconds. “This used to be peoples dreams, to stay in a house like this & do nothing. Watch the fire burn. Love the simple life for a few days before heading back to their corporate lives. & yet we somehow 13 years later have stumbled upon the exact same moment everyone wanted”

“Well that shows that you came from a different world from me, this was never what I wanted” he says.

“No I know Joel” you sip more coffee. “You still want a ranch don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well there is enough land here, why do we need to keep moving, why can’t we just stay here. No one knows we’re here?”Joel thinks for a second he’s tempted & you see the idea entertain his mind before he shakes his head.

“Sorry baby, we’re still too close for someone to work out where we are, but we can stay tonight & tomorrow but then we have to move, if your up to it”

“& if I’m not” you raise an eyebrow & he smirks back. He knows the game your playing.

“Oh you will be” he smiles as his large hand cups your face. The way his thumb always feels against your skins makes you shiver. “So if this was 2004 & we had escaped here for a break what would we do in a house like this on a fine fall night?” He asks. You just smile & snuggle into him.

“This Joel.” You both sigh & sip your coffee.

“Yea this is nice actually” he says as he watches you watch the fire & his hand strokes through your hair. “I can see why you’d want to do this.” Your head lifts & you hold his chin.

“I’m glad I get to do it with you” you kiss him firmly & the heat from your bodies rise as your passion grows. A small delay to your eventual plans, won’t effect you both to much. sometimes it’s just nice to stop & take note of the beauty of life & the life you have been given, even if it is just trying to survive the end of the world.

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