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hearts1ck · 7 months ago
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come out and haunt me - c!technoblade x reader 
“i trust you with my life.”
the fire crackles downstairs. you open your mouth, then close it. you let techno speak.
“back there, i… my first thought was that you weren’t going to kill me. and when i remembered what you’re here for, my – my only thought was no. the voices were yelling at me the whole time except – except that moment where i went, no, they’re not going to let me die.” he takes a deep breath. “i want to know if that’s true.”
──────────────────✧₊∘
it’s still technically valentines day in like,, california? SO HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE! i gift you with the once-foretold Techno Smut Fic, except its an 11k word monster. more porn in it than usual though, so you’re welcome! as for the fact that i am coming back from a week-long death: thank you all for sticking with me regardless!! i’ll be opening up asks (and submissions 👁👁) tonight and also will be posting some recs that i was fed over my Silent Week tmrw morning because Awooga. now, onto the work-specific things:
from what i understood of what he’s said, he’s uncomfortable with fic of him as a streamer and of shipping amongst creators, but is okay with fanfiction of his character in the smp. if this information is incomplete, please let me know (with evidence)! this is entirely his dsmp character. 
warnings: NSFW (18+) content, casual (but not particularly graphic) talk of assassination/murder, necrophilia mention (within a joke), heats (and heat sex mentions), hair pulling 
──────────────────✧₊∘
when the cabin appears on the horizon, lit up orange with torchfire against the dark and snowy sky, you know you are supposed to mark the coordinates on the thick parchment paper of your map and turn your horse around. that’s what you and quackity agreed on, when you walked you into the dim room plastered wall-to-wall in his plans to keep technoblade locked away in death. your thighs ache as you slide off the back of your horse, and your shoulder wrenches when the hilt of your axe slides into your palm, so you find yourself pathetically standing eight-or-so paces from the stairs as techno steps out onto his wooden porch. he heard you, of course he did.
“well, hello.”
you raise the axe, clearly in offense – and fall, knees first, into the powdery snow.
✧₊∘
“you know, there’s uhh… an intended outcome of retirement,” is the first thing you hear, before your eyes even open. warm light tries to beat through your eyelids, hard enough to force them closed as you shift, jerking against the weight spanning your body. “easy,” the gruff voice says again, and the light dims enough for you to blearily blink your eyes open.
through the blur, you see the long line of technoblade’s body as he adjusts a pair of thick curtains struggling against the bright morning, light pink hair pulled into a low, loose ponytail. your arm moves on instinct, reaching for a weapon, only to be blocked but what you realize are layers and layers of blankets; soft furs, questionable quilts, even something that looks like crocheted wool.
a broken “what…?” barely makes it out of your dry mouth before he strides confidently to your side, pulls your jaw open, and pours water onto your tongue. it’s confusing is what it is, but you hold back the cough until you feel a little less like a beached fish and techno pulls away, wiping anything that spilled with a cursory brush of his rough thumb.
“you treat yourself like shit, kid.”
“excuse me?”
technoblade leans back and settles his ass on the creakiest chair known to man, crossing his arms, biceps and shoulders pulling his otherwise baggy shirt tight. “i’m just trying to exist, y’know, alone and then you show up deep-sixed and dehydrated. you know your ankle’s sprained? and something’s messed up with your shoulder, i don’t know enough to guess what.”
“i’m not deep-sixed,” you choke. “i’m here to assassinate you.”
you stare at each other, quiet, until techno barks out a dry laugh. “you can’t even sit up.”
immediately, you jerk forward in an attempt to prove him wrong. pain rockets through your abdomen, up your spine, like both your muscles and bones are screaming bloody murder. fuck. you don’t even try shifting your legs, knowing that the near-nonstop horse riding would not have been kind now that the ache has caught up to you.
“you don’t know me, i could kill you from here, bacon boy.”
techno just raises one dull fuchsia eyebrow. “okay. let me know when i should start runnin’.” and then he stares at you like he’s waiting for an answer.
“why’d you even help me?” you splutter, ducking away from his monotone dig. “probably woulda been easier to let the person trying to murder you get frostbite in front of your house.”
“ahh, dead bodies make lovely lawn decorations.”
it’s your turn to stare at him. speaking is starting to wear you down, and you kind of want to sleep again, but you say it anyway: “answer the question or i’ll actually axe you the minute i can feel my legs.”
techno rolls his eyes, but obeys. “if you died in front of my house, it’d just give people more reason to either grief my stuff or hunt me down, and i don’t really want to deal with that.” that makes sense, and it lines up with what you know about him, the way his appearance and demeanor do not.
that’s another thing – you’ve only seen technoblade from a distance, up until this point. his hulking body and the weight of the cape and furs he wears paint him thick, intimidating, and it’s reflected in the hard-edged scowling photos and propaganda littering l’manberg and quackity’s planning room.
the man in front of you is remarkably elegant, not tank-like, his posture princely and his build much more wiry than you’d ever expect. his ears, long and boar-like, look soft despite the occasional rip.
“you’re prettier than i thought you’d be,” you blurt. you flush, but you’re being honest, so you don’t attempt to take it back.
to your surprise, those soft ears darken, and techno’s skin pinks up, though his eyebrows dip into something like a scowl. “you’re – you’re stronger than i thought you’d be. you should have died from exposure and shock, last night.” you smile at the compliment, edges tired.
“well. thank you,” you offer primly, because sometimes you have manners, before your eyes close and you don’t have the energy to open them again. before you completely fall asleep, you manage to say, “still gonna kill you,” and think you might hear techno laugh, just a little bit.
✧₊∘
it takes what you’re guessing is two more days of slipping in and out of sleep, getting impersonally hand-fed and choking down water when you can, before you can sit up and tenderly swing your legs over the side of the rickety cot techno set you up in. you manage to stand, and even limp a couple steps, but it feels a little like your pelvis got twisted the wrong way despite knowing it’s perfectly fine. it’s then that you remember –
“oh geez, are you taking care of bart?”
techno watches you warily from his potion making station as you wobble. “who?”
“the horse that came with me, did he run of or…?”
“he’s with carl, kid. don’t worry.” he fusses with the potion, before saying, “i’m surprised he didn’t bite you and run off. he was nearly fatigued.”
you stretch one arm behind your back, testing. “i didn’t ride him the whole way. didn’t want to mess him up too bad.”
techno hums, mutters something about your ankle sprain and sprinkles glowstone power in the glass potion in his hand. bizarrely, you immediately want his attention back, which pisses you off, and you remember what you’re here for. gingerly, you reach with one arm for one of the axe’s leaning against the wall under the window, and let the weight settle in your palm. heavy. not yours.
the heaviness proves to be its own issue, as the minute you haul it up to take aim, your shoulder does the thing again – like the bones are sliding together and popping apart at the same time, screeching in pain the whole time – and the axe is thrown dully from your hand to clatter onto the floor behind techno’s feet.
techno turns slowly to face you. “what the hell was that?”
“i said i was gonna axe you,” you pout, as if your shoulder isn’t thrumming in pain. “now help me walk back to the cot, i don’t think i can do it on my own.”
watching you like you’re insane, techno sets his items down and glides over to you. expecting him to take your wrist, you put your arms out; instead, two warm palms encircle your waist, holding you steady in the air when you take one painful step towards the pile of furs and blankets you’ve been residing in.
“so, i can’t really read you,” he rumbles, suddenly. “is the whole attempted-murder thing going to continue?”
“yes. you’re a public enemy of l’manberg,” you answer cheerily.
techno sighs. “alright, kid.”
it’s that – that thing he calls you, again. term of endearment? honorific? either way, one legs goes weak from ache, totally unrelated (because techno certainly did not tiredly growl out ‘kid’ in a tone that would obliterate your balance, absolutely not) and techno’s hands go tight, keeping you standing as you lurch forward and grip his coarse, dull tunic from around the neck.
“there we go,” he mumbles, almost like he didn’t mean to, and it feels too hot even for an arctic cabin with disturbingly good heating. “c’mon kid, you won’t fall while i’ve got you.”
jesus. what. maybe this is some anti-honeypot plot to convince you to trust him with the sheer power of attraction.
“you did it again. you keep calling me kid.”
you’ve reached the cot by now, and techno turns you around so you can basically give out and hit the blankets – but you don’t let go of his shirt, and he doesn’t let go of your waist. “so?”
“i – i just – why?”
“i’m aware that you’re an adult, if that’s what you’re asking,” techno grumbles, which doesn’t really answer the question.
you open your mouth and chirp “good. it’d be awkward if you didn’t.” at this, techno looks at you instead of the cot he’s trying to drop you on, tusks reflecting the lantern light.
“why would it be awkward?”
because i want to shove my face into your titties, and if you see me as a kid then i don’t get to do that, you think. “it just would,” you say, finally letting go and collapsing onto the blankets, ignoring the way techno stands in between your knees, just for a moment, before he turns away.
✧₊∘
the day you can successfully walk around the room without a limp is also the day a snowstorm rips through the area, drowning the cabin in snow and trapping the both of you inside. after techno settles the horses, he hunkers down to solemnly organize his materials, cracking chests open while you stretch your legs out on the wood floor and pretend your brand of pseudo-yoga isn’t boring.
most of your questions roll off of him like rain on leaves. “what’s your favorite color?” “not pink.” “ever considered getting a dog?” “yes.” “how do you heat this whole house?” “fire.” “did you knit that wool blanket yourself?” “if it looks good, then yes.”
then that gets boring and, well, you never claimed to have consistent manners, so you say the first thing you can come up with that you think will grab his attention. and maybe an answer longer than three words.
“so, how fun is it to kill people?”
techno goes very still. bingo. “it’s not.”
you pause, then open your mouth to dig deeper, because you’ve seen him work, and people only walk away with blood on their forearms and satisfaction threaded into their shoulders when they enjoyed the job. techno stops you when he speaks up again.
“it’s the power that’s fun. think – your first time winning a sparring match, but even better. and i have these – there are voices that egg it on. make it harder not to crave.”
“very anarchist of you,” you hum. “hungering for power over other people’s lives.”
techno drops whatever he was moving – saplings, you think – and turns to you. he doesn’t look as angry as you expected, he doesn’t look angry at all. he looks… anticipating.
“and i’ve sworn off of killing. switch your argument around.”
“huh? what? backup, i can tell you’re trying to teach me something, here.”
those long ears twitch in embarrassment, but despite the low note he continues: “i know exactly how power corrupts. it’s better no one else does, and the only way to do that is to abandon government. it’s the source.”
“okay,” you hum, “but that’s why the government represents us. there are checks.”
fully turning to you, leaning his back on the chests, techno thrusts an open palm at you. “name one time you had any say in manberg politics.”
“l’manberg, now,” you correct while you think. and think. “just because it isn’t like that right now, doesn’t mean we can’t get to it. and besides, i like our leaders. there’s no need for me to –,”
“and you don’t even want to change it? kid, what’d they do with your idealism? don’t tell me you lost it in all the wars these governments have you fight in.”
“i have gladly laid down my life for l’manberg,” you spit. “i wasn’t brainwashed into it and i’m not a kid. and for the record, my idealism is back home with the spike i’m going to put your skull on.”
techno’s still leaning against his chests, but his body noticeably relaxes the way experienced fighters do, like their natural state is the one right before they lunge. “and i have yet to see you honestly try, kid.”
you twist for the worn-down, roughed-up stone sword in one of techno’s discard piles from the organization session, but you realize last minute its on your non-dominant side, and don’t have enough time to grab it with your sword fighting hand. it’s a fatal fuck-up, and you know it before techno blocks the swing – with an open palm, one that will barely bruise on impact. you throw the hilt in his face long enough to grab something, anything, and end up blindly pulling out an emerald. you immediately think wing it, but your hand stops mid-air, and suddenly there’s another painful pulling at your shoulder as techno rips your arm down and away.
the dominant one – the arm that got fucked up.
“yeah, i noticed that,” techno mumbles before getting to his feet so violently you have no choice but to stumble backwards and to the floor. you shut your eyes, wincing away, fulling expecting techno teach you a lesson by sending you back to your spawn, but nothing comes.
when you pop one eye open, techno is in front of you with a roll of stiff-looking fabric.
“what the fuck,” you say.
“what’s with the face?” with a massive hand on your neck he pulls you closer and then starts wrapping support around your shoulder, holding your arm firmly up before pulling the cloth around it and then across your collar bones.
“you’re messing with me.”
techno quirks an eyebrow at you and says, “define ‘messing’?” like he isn’t tenderly caring for a home intruder.
“this is the part where you kill me,” you say overly-slow, a little condescending.
and techno slumps at that and sighs like he has had to repeat this to you for ages, which he most certainly hasn’t, thank you very much. “kid. i do not want to kill you.”
“...why not!?”
he stares. “i take it back. have you seen my netherite?”
“i’m serious! you’re – you’re the blade. i’m using your resources, encroaching on your space, very annoying, and oh yeah, tried to kill you multiple times. you should’ve killed me on sight. it’s what you do.”
“first of all,” techno starts, “i don’t think you’ve honestly tried killing me once, ever, this whole time, because i’ve seen you fight, kid, and you’re not this shitty. second – i don’t want to kill you. i don’t kill anyone, anymore. homicide is better with a good reason.” his hand tightens on the support cloth, and the whole thing feels like it’s pulling your bones together.
“you called me kid again,” you say absently, then: “you’ve seen me fight?”
“well, you’ve seen me fight, haven’t you?”
“you summoned a pair of withers, it’s a bit hard to miss. me – not so much.”
techno pauses, leaving one hand on your collar where he tucked the end of the cloth under the rest. “you’re stronger than you seem,” he says, repeating what he said that first morning you woke up. “there were moments during the battle that you should have died. a lot of moments. and you just kept getting taking hits, but only ate a couple gapples.”
there’s a part of you that wants to address this, a part of you losing your mind over this sudden twist in the fabric of the universe. technoblade was not supposed to know you exist. technoblade is not supposed to – to – “still callin’ me kid when you saw me dominate the battlefield? okay. i see how it is.”
“you want me to call you something else?”
“oh shnookums,” you simper. “why the tone?”
techno hauls himself to his feet and grumbles something about getting food, sifting through one of his higher chests while you go off.
“no, don’t leave me bunny-baby, my sweetheart –,”
“i think little shit works nice enough,” he chimes in, and you cheer. objectively, you know it’s a little weird that you both are trying to pick a pet name two minutes after being at each other's throats, but.. “make it a little warmer. i’m stuck here until the weather chills out, lets live out a romance in the way we can, honeybear!”
“anything for you, my sweet shit,” he says, completely deadpan. you cackle, until you realize what he’s pulling out of the chest. meats, of course, but also a small wicker basket of –
you gasp. “you have strawberries!”
“you’re a fuckin’ strawberry,” techno quips, but your ears prick up.
“better than being a kid.”
“... okay, fuckin’ strawberry.”
he says it with too much force, like it’s punched through his teeth, and you can’t help but smile at it while you reach over to grab at the fruit. they taste miraculously fresh, but you don’t ask about it, enjoying their juicy sweetness with a pleased hum every couple of bites.
you don’t try to kill him after that.
the storm rolls on, clouds getting so thick you can only tell the pass of night and day by different shades of grey and by techno stretching one arm over his head, yawning, before going to bed himself. you always plop down on the cot a room below and for the first time the room seems… empty, despite the bubbling of potions. 
but then you wake up to the sound of his tools dragging down the ladder, and you poke your head into the shaft and ask to watch whatever the hell techno’s going to do.
“goodmorning, strawberry,” he says, very sarcastically, but you nearly slip and fall straight down into him regardless. “i’m smithing today. i don’t like doing it inside but…” he jostles the tools in his arms – a mix of iron, diamond, and netherite, before sliding down the ladder and disappearing into a lower level.
“i didn’t know you had a basement,” you tease, hopping off the closest rungs, before nearly tripping over the sight before you. techno, in white, flowing shirt you hadn’t seen before, is wrapping his torso in a dark, waist-height corset. his hair isn’t even tied back yet, just falling delicately over his wide shoulders and down his chest as he looks down at himself.
and then it seems he actually does want to kill you, because he turns around and says, “can you tighten it? kinda strugglin’ here.”
even with his back to you, you look away, face burning. what. what. WHAT. “sure,” is your answer, and your voice does not break at all. not even a little.
the material is thick, but striped with a blood-red velvet barely discernible from the main shade, and it’s stiff when you pull it tight against techno’s spine. with his hands free, he rolls up and buttons his shirt at the elbows, rough fingers suddenly delicate and distracting, before gracefully pulling the tide of his hair to the side and over his shoulder. you swallow as you cross the black rope tying the corset together.
“wh–why are you wearing this?”
“i’m tall and the anvil isn’t,” he rumbles, but it’s… it’s light, the way he says it, half whispered, like he knows you’re close to him and sheepishly eyeing the splay of his powerful shoulders. “my back hurts without support and it’s a support garment.”
you breath out through your nose. “it looks good. on you. for – for what it does.”
techno is quiet for a moment, before he thanks you and you remember you actually have to finish tying and do so with a strong pull and the bunny-ears method.
he lights the adjacent oven with netherrack instead of coal and wood like the one upstairs, coaxes it to something high and aggressive with what looks like a mix of dusts, before remembering to pull back his hair. you get reckless, then, and say, “hey, let me.”
you gently plait his hair into a thick braid, making the leather string he normally uses into a tiny bowtie at the tip, and then let him get to work heating his iron tools – mostly for smithing, rather than the normal set – and pretend like your fingertips brushing against the back of his neck don’t make you feel like you’re in the oven yourself.
watching him is… torture. you force yourself through it, even though once he starts having to apply his own force to the slightly bent angle of a netherite sword, the idea of disappearing into the snowy wilderness is really goddamn appealing. he scowls down at his work, pig’s ears twitching as he grunts, the strength in his arms lit up by the fire. and then the corset, cinching his waist into something less delicate and more like a piece of compact power at his core.
you make it out of the experience just barely alive, but alive nonetheless. you treat yourself to fresh mutton just for it.
“do the voices ever tell you to kill me?” you ask one day, suddenly remembering techno’s comment. he won’t let you help him with the armor-mending he’s taken to doing now that his chests are pristine, so you’re stuck keeping the mainroom fire ablaze without trying to eat the carpet.
“no,” techno answers thoughtfully, fiddling with the leather straps fastened to a spiked shoulder plate of shimmering, enchanted netherite. “mostly they tell me to –,” and suddenly techno’s face is the exact shade of his tightly tied-back hair, even darker at the apples of his cheeks, stained with embarrassment so swift you’re suddenly starving for the ability to read minds.
“what. what do they tell you to do, techno? what?? huh?”
“they don’t tell me to do anything,” he grumbles. he ducks down to haphazardly retrieve an object dwarfed by his hand, pulling up to drag what looks like a whetstone over the sharpened plate edge.
“you were just about to say something! c’mon, i’ve got thick skin. kill babies? fuck corpses?”
the scratch of the whetstone stops. “what the fuck?” techno squawks. “sometimes killing babies. shut up, that’s a joke – but the corpse thing? what? how fucked up did l’manberg get?”
“l’manberg did not invent necrophilia, techno,” you say a little too loudly.
“ehh... sometimes you guys make me wonder.”
you don’t want to talk about l’manberg. or necrophilia, for that matter. “do the voices ever tell you to do other things to me?” it’s completely innocent when you say it – maybe the voices tell him to put your hand in hot water in the night, you don’t know.
or at least, you don’t know until techno blushes again, rubbing his top teeth against the tusks that are forced past his lips. “uhhhh... what voices? i don’t hear voices. i’m going to go check on carl.” he doesn’t put any of the armor or maintenance supplies away when he gets up, so they just topple to the floor – he doesn’t wrap himself in overclothes when he leaves, either, so in ten minutes he’s back inside, shivering like a shulker box on coke.
and that – huh. you think about the way he said you’re stronger than you seem, and you wonder. you figure you might as well test it out a little bit, look up at him where he’s brushing half-melted snow off his linen shirt.
“hey,” you say softly, and get to your feet. your body is toasty from fussing over the fireplace, and you can tell techno notices when you wrap heated arms around his torso. “whatever they’re telling you, the voices – it’s alright, okay? i don’t care. they’re not you, and even if they were, its your head. you’re allowed free reign in there.”
his hands come to fold you into him, if a bit hesitantly, and maybe he froze a little extra out there, ‘cause he melts right into it where you expect him to stay stiff. there’s a sudden weight on your head, too, and you realize he’s rested his chin on your hair, breathing you in as he trembles. he doesn’t say anything more, but he makes a noise when you pull away, a soft mournful sound.
you can’t really dive back in after pulling away, so you smile at him and shoot up the ladder to grab blankets and slide back down to pull it around his shoulders; he watches you the whole time, face guarded, but eyes kind.
he changes the conversation, starts rambling about hunting in the snow and asking for your experiences in the forests. you wander around topics together as you lean your shoulder into his, the fire getting appropriately fed while, for the first time it seems, techno does nothing else while speaking to you.
“yes, i do lighten my hair a little bit, fuck off – you can do it with blaze rods, and since i practically spend weeks in the nether sometimes i get a lot of them –,”
“the nether?” you mumble, just a little sleepily. “i’ve never been to the nether.” it’s not a lie, but you’ve also never particularly wanted to, either. you just say it because – because – “you’ll take me there when the weather turns up, right?”
techno takes a moment, the unspoken, i thought you were going to leave bustling between your bodies. i don’t want to leave, you think, just a little petulant. a kid at targay not getting their rainbow toy. “sure, strawberry.” it doesn’t sound placating – techno sounds hopeful.
you grin into your forearm where you’ve tucked your face and throw techno a happy look. “keep going. why do blaze rods lighten your hair?”
“see, you’d think blaze powder would work better because of the increased surface area, but it actually dims the bleaching properties for some reason –,” the both of you chatter on, and the sky falling into the dark blue-grey of midnight heralds the slurring of your words, the soft tones as you lean closer, and you realize that you feel totally and completely alone with him. you’re both cut off – just the two of you – and the sighing fire and techno’s slow blinking eyes make it so terribly obvious.
if he notices your staring, he doesn’t bring it up. instead, he sheepishly accepts the press of your temple against his and says, “that thing we did earlier, can we –,”
“the hug? do you not know what a hug is?”
“i know what a hug is,” he pouts. “would you – would you want to do it again?”
something bursts in your stomach. you pull him into an awkward, quick hug, and techno grunts unhappily. “okay, okay –”
you direct him onto his side until the two of you are wrapped around each other, blanket tucked around you like a really questionable cocoon, and techno sighs like the most content cat in the world.
“retirement doesn’t really lend itself to hugs, huh?”
“neither does being a wanted criminal,” he mutters, and you can’t help but frown. he’s right, but… still.
“that’s sad,” you say honestly. “i never really thought about how alone you are out here.”
“i don’t think you know,” he rumbles, rosey strands of hair falling over his eyes. “i don’t think you know how long i’ve been alone. even in the war, everyone else had friends and family and i was just – just a –,” he lets out a frustrated breath. “it’s just hard to feel real, sometimes. and i’m – i’m not hurting anyone, so i know i’m doing the right thing, but it still – it hurts.”
you nearly throw up, right there. it feels like you’ve just tripped and are falling right into lava, or a fucking end-portal, realizing that maybe – maybe you had no idea what you’d gotten into, agreeing to find techno for quackity. planning to kill him so you’d come back with his head instead of just coordinates.
he seems to realize himself once he processes your horrified expression, and sets his shoulders back, inhaling sharply. “don’t mind me, it –,”
“it sucks,” you say, and pull him back in, hug him tighter. it’s not about shoving your face into his tits, anymore. “you don’t – i don’t like that you’re alone.”
he shrugs. “i’m kind of falling asleep,” he says, and you know he’s just trying to get out of the conversation, and you let him. he closes his eyes, but it takes many minutes before his dark eyebrows smooth out.
you want to trace your fingers over the scars on his face. even his eyelashes are pink, you notice, before you give up and settle with your face under his chin, nuzzling into his collarbones.
the clouds clear up the next morning.
✧₊∘
you’re going to die. waking up tangled in technoblade, his long hair frizzed and nearly in your mouth is bad enough on it’s own, but then he stretches against you and sleepily mumbles something about the brightness in the room, ducks his face into your hair to block it out.
“the sun’s out,” you mumble dumbly, and techno pulls away with red ears.
“ugh, help me pull the blinds back, strawberry.”
letting the shiver at the pet name roll through you, you dim the sunlight with a hand over your eyes and go to tug the heavy curtains over the windows. “why is it so fucking aggressive in the mornings?”
“sunlight’s bouncing off the snow,” techno says. “most days it’s not too bad because of cloud cover, but you still gotta stay out of it around noon. it’s bad right now ‘cause the sun probably melted bits of the top layer while it was freezing over.”
“it can do that?”
he throws you a look before scratching at his chest through his shirt, squinting around the room, probably remembering how neither of you moved away to go to your respective beds. or planning your murder, you don’t know. “okay, so… buckets for collecting snow, because i am taking a bath after the nether trip if it’s the last thing i do –,” you are, in fact, going to pass away – “and armor and a new brace for your shoulder.”
“my shoulder’s fine,” you say, rolling it to show off, before he leans forward to raise your arm above your head. you wince.
“i don’t want to see you even trying to throw a stick, you’ll throw it out again.”
“bossy,” you mutter, and his expression gets complicated. his lips purse as well as they can with his tusks. “the voices telling you something dirty?”
“careful how you talk to the guy giving you armor,” he tosses back like he’s stone-cold and not blushing like a fourth grader, hiding behind his mom’s legs to avoid meeting new people.
when the evening rolls around, the world barely dims with the sky, and he throws buckets at you when you faceplant into the snow, wrapped in wool. he covers each bucket with a wood plank before stacking them, so when you leave to track through the snow and get to his nether portal, theres just a skyscraper of snow buckets on the inside of the doorway.
“leave your overclothes in the chest here,” he tells you as you stare at the gleaming obsidian. standing next to the swirling portal is a lot like watching someone else enchant armor, but maximized, your body going tingly and your stomach twisting with nausea. you punch the wool into the chest before techno grabs your good arm firmly, looking nervous, before pulling you into the purple and waiting as your whole body floods with the tingly feeling. there’s a subtle shift, one you wouldn’t notice until techno steps out on the other end and drags you through, knees so wobbly you almost fall onto the next platform.
it’s hot in the nether. you start sweating almost immediately, and techno chuckles at you, but doesn’t remove his trademark red cloak. he swaggers down pathways until he sees some invisible landmark you don’t know about and jumps over the side. he guides you down and points to the lava, peppered with striders, and throws a gold ingot at a piglin you didn’t even see advance. it snorts and throws something back at techno, who makes a vague snorting sound back before guiding you deeper into the netherrack.
“can you… understand each other?”
“not really. i can differentiate tone?” he pulls out a pick to tunnel through a cliffside despite there being a path around the edge, and you smile a little knowingly. you want to toe at that line again, like when you hugged techno and sentenced yourself to regular affectionate touching with a terrorist.
there’s an ashy biome in the distance that makes the air even more oppressive, and the sweat is starting to get really uncomfortable – or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself to justify your next question. “you’re protecting me, right?”
“of course,” he grunts, slicing a magma cube a little ways away, destroying it before it gets within a ten-foot radius of you.
“good, because i’m suffering like this.” you peel off your armor and stow it in your inventory before shoving yourself out of your top, making a face at the damp bunched up fabric.
“what do you –,” techno starts as he turns around, and the promptly turns back away from you, cutting himself off. “you are going to fall and die,” he says tightly.
“i’ve got boots and leg armor on, i’m good.”
and then you notice the long outcropping of netherrack pointing to a distant fortress. you shoot off towards it with an excited, “ooo!”
“you are not this dumb, strawberry,” he growls, tailing you with slower steps.
you get to the edge of the outcropping and eye the bubbles of lava, cooing at a couple striders playfighting each other. it’s hypnotic, glowing prettily, but techno’s right – you’re not dumb enough to straif to the side on your first experience in this place.
and then you hear a wail, and techno yells.
you lurch away from the edge just before the ghast explodes it, and suddenly the warm expanse of techno’s body is behind you, pulling you away even farther before putting himself between you and the ghast. his sword comes down perfectly on the fireball, sending it right back to the sobbing thing, killing it before it can do more damage.
techno thrusts your body back onto the mainland without another word. you stumble back, and he takes purposeful steps to follow you, until he pauses just before the netherrack outcropping meets the cliff. and then he laughs.
“you probably could survive a direct hit, i dunno why that scared me so much.”
“i’m cool like that,” you say breathlessly, trying very hard not to think about the feel of techno’s armor against the bare skin of your lower back and arms.
techno tosses his hair like he’s resettling, and raises his foot to keep walking, until you hear a familiar crunch and slide of unstable ground.
in a second, what’s left of the netherrack outcrop crumbles, and there’s a wide pocket of empty air where techno used to be.
you think you make a noise when you lurch forward, leaning over the side and squinting through the bright of the lava, until techno’s hand hooks over the top of the new edge and digs in. you grab his wrist, and meet his eyes, which are surprisingly unterrified – just shocked, and he digs his boot into the siding, arms and core noticeably clenching. the netherrack is softer here, though, and pebbles tumble over his fingers and he slips, just slightly, closer to the lava.
“i don’t have resistance potions on me,” he blurts, too fast, and looks up at you.
in that moment, the both of you share one mind, and the exact actions you would need to take to haul techno up to safety flash over your eyes – but then so does quackity’s hit list, his voice brimmed with determination as he mutters, “he’s won’t be a threat when he’s dead.”
techno’s eyes widen, just slightly, as if realizing that letting him go would be the thing you came for in the first place. he’d descend into the lava and wouldn’t resurface, and you could go home with some of techno’s loot and the death announcement as proof. you’d be impressive, you’d be a hero – not the overzealous fighter too impractical to be taken seriously.
so you don’t even need to think about it.
you dig your boots into the rack and yank, the ledge crumbling just enough to create an incline towards you, one he climbs through with his pick and his other hand, red pebbles tumbling past his scrabbling feet until he gets to solid, unshaking ground.
the way he looks up at you, before he gets to his feet – desperate, nearly half crazed – it could topple you. it feels like he’s witnessing something grand in the heavy pattern of your breathing, until he blinks and turns away and stays quiet for the rest of nether trip.
he answers every attempt at a conversation with an absent nod or shake of his head, and wordlessly leads you back through the landscape, climbing onto the pathway and dipping into the nether portal. he grabs you, last minute, and lets you go at the first sign of the snow biome.
it’s fucking freezing. you notice it worse than you ever have, and struggle to get your regular clothes, armor, and overclothes on while techno waits for you, face down into the snow that half-heartedly reflects the moonlight.
when you get back to the cabin, he hangs the once-snow buckets over the fireplace and watches them until they bubble while you tug off your armor and put it away. he pulls a tub out from who-knows-where and transfers the boiling water into it, before he shucks his own clothes and armor piece by piece and descends into the bath, his unabashed nudity proof of the war and his work as his scars flash before your eyes. his comfort with you is a compliment, even if it doesn’t necessarily feel like it when he tiredly leans back and says nothing when you bring him food and drink, pink hair floating in the darkened water around him.
he’s still quiet when he gets out, when he twists his hair and dries himself, when he pulls on the clothes you left by the tub. he only opens his mouth when he finds you in his room, looking at the titles on his bookshelf to preoccupy yourself with the ever-sinking feeling in your gut.
“is that my shirt?” is what he chooses for his first words in over three hours.
you whip around. techno’s hair is still damp, and his eyes aren’t even on your face – they’re planted at your collarbones, where his shirt is open and untied.
“i didn’t – i couldn’t find the ones you took from my saddlebag.”
“it’s – it’s fine,” and you couldn’t disagree more.
“look –,” you start, hoping for a way to fix this, but he interrupts.
“i trust you with my life.”
the fire crackles downstairs. you open your mouth, then close it. you let techno speak.
“back there, i… my first thought was that you weren’t going to kill me. and when i remembered what you’re here for, my – my only thought was no. the voices were yelling at me the whole time except – except that moment where i went, no, they’re not going to let me die.” he takes a deep breath. “i want to know if that’s true.”
you don’t say it too quick, but you don’t hesitate, either. your lungs back it up, your heart does to, and you say, firm as anything, “yes.” you blink, shocked with the way your life is playing out, and find yourself sitting on the rickety wooden end table, just to steady yourself. “i never really wanted to kill you, i just – i wanted to do something good for once, for l’manberg. but hurting you doesn’t – it doesn’t feel like something good.”
he drifts to you, moth to a flame. “it seems you’re better than me in a lot of ways.”
he’s – he’s so close, suddenly. “i don’t think i am, i –” you stutter out, thinking of your lingering hands on his corset backing, but you can’t finish, because techno kneels until your eyes are level and pulls your hands into his big ones, enveloping them fully. scrambling for something to say, you choke, “i’m a very indulgent creep, actually–”
one worn hand slides up your neck and over your jaw, tilting it with his silent direction. “would – would this feel like something good?”
you nod, clueless and about to ask, but he steals your next words with his mouth on yours. all pressure, hotter than a furnace flame, his tongue coaxing your lips open as the smooth weight of his tusks press against the corners.
the high noise bubbles out of your throat unexpectedly, and he sighs, body relaxing as your hand finds the material of his shirt and clings for dear life. his other hand cradles the back of your head, and he nips at you softly, the beat of his tongue slow, setting you on fire with care.
you grab at his hair, wanting him closer, your thighs opening for his weight. the heavy of his hands disappear, then so do his mouth, and you whine until his tusks gently scrape against your neck and his teeth pinch at your skin. you can’t help but shake, the heat spilling over your face and into your gut, as his hands come up to your waist, sliding down to your thighs and then under.
he hauls you up, holding you by your ass while your ankles instinctively cross behind him, and he snorts at your squeal. he barely takes two steps before he’s dropping you onto his bed with a bounce, thick furs tickling you as you look up at him.
he seems to realize himself, hair messy, and pants out, “still good?”
you nod as you pull him down, getting a hand into that hair, pulling as you attack him back, tongue tracing over his pronounced upper canines with a moan. he grunts when your other hand climbs up his chest and finds a nipple under his shirt, body rolling into a hard press against you.
he tears your shirt.
it’s pointless, too, because the trail of bites and kisses he leaves down your torso just ends with him yanking off your pants and shoving his face in between your legs. you jerk up, the hard length of his tusks wildly different from the sudden and wet press of his tongue, the hard suck against where you start leaking, your core tightening. his tongue points too fast, pressing too hard and too fast and you wail into it, pulling at his hair.
he groans, loud. you yank again and he comes up for air long enough to noticeably grind against the bedcovers, face lost in pleasure, and you pull his hair back into you. he takes it devoutly, hands holding and fingers pressing into your ass like he’s begging to devour all of you.
his chin and face are a mess of spit when he pulls back up to ask, “want me inside?”
you fist his shirt and pant, “yes, yes –,” and kiss him again, the taste of you ridiculously strong behind his teeth. he nods into your lips and lets you tug off his shirt for him, lets you rub down down his chest and indulgently grab at his pecs before getting a hand down his pants.
“woah,” you say on instinct, and techno chokes out a surprised laugh. in punishment you tug on his length and he drops his mouth open, fucking into your fist. “it... it might not fit,” as if you aren’t going to try your damned hardest to take it all.
techno heaves a breath like you punched him in the chest. “i can – i’ll –,” he gasps, not making any progress on the sentence.
you hum, rubbing a thumb at his weeping tip as his thighs shake. and then you lean back and press it down into you, rolling your hips up and towards him. techno’s hands grip yours, pulling them sharply away and pinning them to the bed.
“need a second,” he huffs, and you grin – too wide for him, probably, because he makes a noise and gets those wide hands on your waist, presses it down before bumping you hips and ass up with his thighs, dick grinding against you. he leans over you and his hair falls into a curtain around you, face competitive and so, so beautiful.
and then he presses in, and your lungs stutter. one hand comes down to rub you, making your hips twist at the stimulation, shaking and opening up for him as he presses, slow and splitting, and the sound that comes out of your mouth is just downright embarrassing.
he kisses you for it, lips soft, and his other hand comes to hold your cheek, tender despite his rough fingertips as he rolls his hips again and again until he’s sheathed inside you, so deep its difficult to breathe. he licks a stripe up your neck, and his tusk nicks your chin, his hair so long it’s falling and dripping onto your shoulders.
“tell me when,” he rumbles softly into your ear, and your hand finds the back of his neck to keep him here, keep him close. the other reaches for his hip, coaxing him into another gentle hip roll, and you whisper, “now.”
he thrusts shallowly, and his cock drags sharply over something inside of you once, then twice, than again as your mouth moans without you realizing, leaning back as your eyes roll. he picks up the pace, pulls back farther, all while his big shoulders cover you completely.
you need to kiss him, get his mouth on yours, but you’re both groaning, panting heavily between your lips, and you settle for it while he slides out and harshly in, grinding close as you whine out a sharp “please –,”
“you ever think about this?” he groans, eyes barely open and pupils blown wide. “ever had your hand down your pants in your own cot, thinking of me fucking you, huh, strawberry?”
the fucking pet name. pressure coils inside you, red heat licking up your hip bones. “tech-no–,” you hiccup, brain melting before you can finish.
“‘cause i –,” he thrusts roughly, grunting, “i did. turned away from the ladder and fucked my hand imagin’ it was – it was you, my little strawberry, knowing you could take me, take it all, cause you’re so fucking good, so fucking strong, aren’t you?”
the wave builds too fast, with his careful aim and his words and his clean smell choking you as you fall apart. you call his name, trying to tell him, but you pulse regardless, tightening up and arching, feeling his roughness and thinking of the desperation he had to feel to hold himself with a half-stranger in the house.
“i’m –,” you manage to cry, and techno nods against you, and god, he’s so powerful, so –
he grinds with purpose, right against that spot inside of you and you shake, eyes tearing up as you come, tightening around him and howling. techno pulls back sharply, hands coming to your thighs and holding them in place as his back straightens and he really loses himself in it, searching for his own completion.
which leaves your body jerking through the overstimulation, sobbing as he just keeps going, fluttering around him and begging just for the sake of begging.
“yeah,” he groans out all rough, the back of his throat rolling. “that’s it, there’s –,” and then it’s his turn to cry out, and he whimpers suddenly, falling forward again finding a spot on your neck to bite down on as he wraps his hands around you through his final, erratic thrusts and low whine.
it’s infinitely warmer inside as he comes, flooding you, and his hips slow to a stop as he pants.
“fuck,” you breathe, expecing him to soften to slip out.
techno’s shoulders tense. his cock still very stiff and clearly very sensitive inside you, based on the sound he makes when you grind back on him. he shakes over you, breath gusting. “w-what?” you whisper. “are you–,”
“shut up,” he rumbles, hands sliding back to your hips and holding them in place where they’ve started to grind slightly. he grunts through a miniscule roll of his own hips, all instinct and you feel impossibly wetter between your thighs, even through the oversensitivity. he’s – he’s dripping out of you without having pulled out at all.
you squeeze around him, testing.
“please,” he gasps. “just let me –,” he groans, and his face is so beautifully pinched, riding waves over and over, and it’s – it’s so pretty just to watch.
“you’re still coming,” you breathe.
“yeah, it,” he moans something pained, because you tense down on him again and again. “it goes on for a while.”
you tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he dazedly stares down at you. “did you come this much while thinking of me that night?”
his eyes flutter shut as he rolls his hips unconsciously, and geez. you’re going to have to change the blankets and… roll blaze rods all over them, or whatever techno figured out what you do to bleach them.
you can’t tell how long it takes for him to stop shaking against you, but when he does, he slumps into you with a tired sigh. he doesn’t really pull out, and honestly you don’t mind it, and comb your hands through his hair so you can pull it past his ear, which is as soft as it looks, coated with a thin layer of pink-white fur. they twitch under your thumb, and techno snorts against you, and you know you’re in way too deep.
“so... that definitely felt good.”
techno breathes out a chuckle and kisses your jaw, tusks hard against the bone.
“why’d you do it?” you ask. “why’d you kiss me?”
at this, he lets out a full laugh, the real one where he gasps around the sounds falling out of his throat. “that’s what you’re questioning, here?”
“well… yeah.”
techno turns slightly and nuzzles under your ear, teeth grazing your neck – you shiver into it. there’s not a place on your body he could brush and not make your bones pinball around trying to get closer. “i wanted to.”
so simple. it makes you smile. out here, things are just simple. if you’re hungry, find food. if you’re cold, light the furnace. if you want to kiss, kiss.
but then techno goes subtly still. “you’re not… regretting it?”
“never. it’s just… i’m not used to it. i thought, if anyone was going to court me, it’d happen at a festival and two weeks later we’d consider how much politics we’d fuck up by getting married. there was never just… us. there was never an idea of a just us.”
“there’s not another person around here for days worth of travel,” techno says into your skin. “not usually, anyway.”
you heard what he meant; you’ve stayed here for long enough to know. just us.
your gaze drifts out past the windowpane, not able to look at techno’s face with the burst of emotion you feel. there’s a snow hare forcing its way through the snow, outside. “can you teach me how to hunt, y’know, in this environment and all... tomorrow?” you whisper.
techno looks at you through his lashes, the corner of his mouth quirking up, and you hope to anything listening that he doesn’t know what you’re doing.
“it’ll take me more than a day to teach you that, strawberry.”
“that’s okay. if you don’t mind it, of course.”
his ear flicks. “i don’t mind it.”
✧₊∘
techno is a little relentless, after that.
you’ll be watching the steady rise of bread in the furnace, trying to get the perfect loaf while resting your shoulder, and turn to greet techno only to have your hips dragged to his face so he can messily eat you out; or he’ll be teaching you how to hunt, arms wrapped around yours to settle your aim, and suddenly your back will be on the snow with his hulking mass hovering over you. it’s how you find out his cloak is enchanted to maintain the same one, middling temperature.
eventually, though, he does chill out, needing to disappear to harvest materials. it’s not like you don’t, either; it’s calming to get lost in the winterscape, tracking white rabbits until the snowfall starts to collect in your own footprints and you have to make your way back to the distant smoke as the white-blue turns to two different shades of grey.
but one time techno disappears for days. guilt collects on your shoulders from missing him, tucking yourself in the fleece and sheepskin rolled out over his bed and sinking into his smell. the day passes quietly, nearly silently despite the noise of your boots sliding against the wood slats as you climb onto the roof, gaze searching for movement in the direction of the nether portal he always melts into.
when he finally comes back – comes home – after the long nights of absence, his cloak is torn and sooty, his armor scented with the smell of old fire and crumbling bones. the smell of wither. he makes to shuck them by the door, but is stopped by the faint, slick sound of you working yourself over in his bed on the top floor.
you’re lonely. it’s not a crime to help yourself out when techno’s got better things to do – and so that’s how he finds you, prone and half naked on his blankets. you squeak when you see him, but don’t stop, the strong and heavily-worked body making the pass of your hand much, much easier on yourself.
his boots scuff the floor when he saunters over to you, dropping the belt of tools and his scabbards on the floor with dull thumps, and you shiver at the smirking way he looks at you, low and dangerous and excited. your hand works faster until techno’s hand – covered in a gleaming gauntlet, comes down to hold your wrist and pull it back.
with a condescending lilt, he whispers, “oh, no no no,” and uses one boot-clad calf, straps and leather sharp against your bare skin, to jerk your thighs open. he looms over you, splayed and vulnerable, and says, “have i been neglectin’ someone?” the dropped g ringing loud and noticeable in the moment.
you nod, shooting him your best puppy-dog eyes, and an evil look passes over his face.
“hmm... you’re not that convincin’. you seemed happy to go on as you pleased.” this is new. you can tell techno’s putting feelers out, testing. “are you just that cockhungry, strawberry?”
that makes your face split into heat, and techno notices. his armored hands drop your wrists and instead gently pull your face up by your chin. a half-stopped noise explodes out of your throat – his armor isn’t cold anymore, heated by the cabin and techno’s own body heat, but it’s startingly smooth and impersonal and your sensitive face.
his belt is right in front of you. he’s heavy in his pants just before your mouth and it’s treason that you can’t do anything about it, held in place by techno’s assessing eyes – which catch you looking him down. he laughs at it, forcing your eyes up with another tilt of your chin. “you want it so bad, go get it.”
your hands are not in the greatest state to handle his leather, but you rip open his belt anyway, whimpering as you kiss the head of his dick as you pull it from his pants, both hands fisting his shaft and twisting while it jumps in your palm. techno sobs gruffly while you swallow, pulling back and diving down in a lazy rhythm, until you feel like starting some petty shit and drop your hands, leaving it untouched while you slowly drag your lips up and up and up until you can suck the tip hard.
his slender hips jerk and his stomach trembles, caught in the sensation of the strong licks under his head without any other friction, strung up between too much and too little. his hand on your hair tightens, just the right side of demanding, and he growls, “keep this up and i’ll fuck your throat.”
techno hasn’t done that before. you keep it up very well, watching his stomach twitch as you swirl your tongue of his head, lapping at his pre-come with barely a featherlight touch to the rest of his shaft, and he gives you a warning by forcing your head to tilt up.
“ready yourself,” he murmurs. “i don’t want you to choke. yet.”
you breathe in and he follows the air roughly, sinking as far as he can go – barely half-way – and groaning at the way he cannot fit into your mouth. you moan in congratulations, eyes heavy.
“there we go,” and you preen, “good, yeah, yeah –,” the gravel in his voice breaks, and something in you floats, knowing you’re good for him, knowing he’s dripping all over your tongue because of you. “your eyes are so – so pretty,” he chokes out, before yanking you back and off, head rolling back like he can’t bear to look at you.
the spit trail breaks, and you can’t even mourn it because then techno says, rough, “on your face or inside you?”
you whine. both. yes. either. you don’t care.
his hand curves around him, tugging, and you suck down as much as you can to help, relishing the tight hold techno still fucking has, the pinch of his face as he moans, the half-panicked look he gets when he flexes in your mouth, on the verge of coming.
you specifically jerk him tight and fast while you pull your lips off, thumb abusing his tip, and let the first wave spill over you face, drip over your lips and cheek as techno’s body tightens up and he shouts.
and then he pushes you onto your side, roughly jerking your thighs up and lining himself up like he isn’t shaking and coming against your thighs. “good?” he checks, breathless, and you don’t think you’ve ever said please more needy in your life.
he rams deep, metallic hand on your throat, and you notice then in your shocked moan that your voice has been pulled rough by your previous activities, and techno groans into your ear for it, tusks on the back of your neck. his other hand trails down your stomach, before he realizes he hasn’t washed it well enough to finish the job your hand started, and pulls the linked armor up to his face to untie the fastenings with his teeth before shaking it off.
his fingers catch you, rubbing, and you arch into the grind of his cock, pumping you full, your nails digging into his arm just to hold onto something as you cry out and the tight spool in your gut explodes, coming while techno enters his seventh minute of doing the same.
your body relaxes against his rough armor, ash rubbing off in smudges on your skin. he still smells like snow and fire amongst your new additions and you couldn’t enjoy it more, even if your skin is way too sensitive to handle it.
it’s a good welcome home.
later, in the bath together, techno says, “i lost a bit of time. i got stuck fighting wither skeletons and something just… i just zoned out, and i think snapped back when my inventory filled up.”
“can’t stay in fight mode too long,” you mumble. he pulls you into a wet hug, and that time he smells just like himself. you inhale it, trying to store it in your lungs, just in case you forget.
✧₊∘
things only get weird again when you notice techno getting sensitive. he breathes you in more, grabs some of your old clothes to tuck into the mess of the bed, can hear you walking around the house even when the boards don’t creak. he hears you kill a couple rabbits far from the cabin, and waits on the stairs in some crazy, lovesick deja vu of your first meeting – you run up to him for a kiss and he holds you fast in his space, despite the carcasses strapped to your belt.
it’s most obvious he notices you when you test out your shoulder on a pile of unchopped wood out back, swinging an iron axe down with increasing force until you’re sure your shoulder won’t even twinge.
you wipe sweat from you forehead after awhile, wondering how many layers you’d have to shed to find an equilibrium between choking armor and hypothermia. a movement in the corner of your eye catches, and you turn without thinking, watching the last seconds of techno leaving the window and disappearing further in the cabin. you grin and shake your overclothes off, shivering slightly until you work up a second heat from cutting wood blocks into sticks for the fire.
you expect his figure to make another appearance in the window, but either he doesn’t or you don’t catch it, and eventually woodcutting gets awful boring. he doesn’t greet you when you come inside, either, which feels a bit sad, and he doesn’t even answer when you call his name.
he’s nowhere on the upper levels, so you slide down to the basement/smithing room and realize abruptly that there is a second lower level you weren’t aware of. you call techno’s name again, and this time his wavering, rough voice answers. “...here.”
you slide down until your feet hit the flooring, and find yourself face to face with a dark door. you knock gently, and ask to come inside, hand already slipping onto the brass doorknob.
“i... don’t think that’s a great idea,” techno says from behind the heavy wood.
“oh….kay.” your hand pulls away from the knob, faintly hurt, but he’s been nothing but honest with you your entire stay here. he’ll explain later, you’re sure, and turn to ascend the ladder – but are interrupted by a soft baying sound, unhappy and calling. you open your mouth, to question, but techno speaks before you have a chance.
“i’m sorry,” he grunts, “you can come in. please come in, just – you need to leave right after. i just – i just wanna get a look at you, and then you can – should – go. when i tell you to, do you promise me? you have to leave when i tell you.”
“what? what the hell is happening in there –,”
“promise me.”
you think it’s supposed to be a growl, and it is rough in the way everything techno says is, but it’s so – it’s thin. it’s a plea. you take a deep breath and say, “i promise.”
you press into the doorway carefully, and meet an image of techno that’s… a lot better than you thought it’d be. there’s no bed, just a surplus of those fucking blankets where techno has… nested, it looks like, his temple slick with sweat and hair tangled.
he looks good. he always does. the heave of his bare chest makes your eyelids dip halfway, pavloved by the gorgeous sight of him, even if his tight frown dims the feeling. his fingers are tight on the blanket thrown over his lap where he’s – where he’s hard?
“uh?”
“there’s this thing that happens,” he says stiffly. “not often. every year if my body isn’t stressed, it’s like – i get a bit nutty. and horny.”
“... like a heat?”
his ears press down and back against his head. “i’m not an animal, okay, i don’t go through heats –,”
“you’re in heat,” you coo, and techno presses his face into his hands.
“not yet. not yet! you can leave, i won’t rav– ravage. you.”
the way he says it – you have to laugh. you strip off your shirt and watch him eye you mournfully, half-way to starved. your pants come next and techno pinks up, about to turn away, until you tell him: “you can. ravage me. i’d like it, actually.”
“don’t joke with me, strawberry,” he rumbles, but he’s already getting to his feet. “i could – i might hurt you.” that’s where he stops himself, keeps his body away from you and in check.
“well. i’m stronger than i seem.”
techno fucks you up against the door, first.
and then the storage chests, and then into the blankets, and then lets you perch on his hips and fuck yourself on his length. you fall asleep before he tires out, and happily give him permission to keep going, before waking up to his tusks knocking up against you jaw as he kisses you, licks over the bruises he’s left you with. you turn to kiss his face, and he pulls back to look at you like – you don’t even know. but his eyes are clear, even though his dick is hard and long and pressing against you, the hazy heat probably at bay for a brief moment.
“doing good?” you ask, and his thumb swipes rough over your forehead, reverent.
“don’t go,” techno whispers.
“you haven’t told me to, yet.”
techno leans even further back to look at you, and pulls his other hand up to cradle both sides of your face, rough hands pressing against your cheekbones, under your eyes. “don’t go back to l’manberg. or, don’t – don’t do it without me. don’t leave me behind.”
you feel your entire core softening. you can’t believe you’ve never really told him bluntly, and you do so now: “i wasn’t planning to. i don’t – i don’t know where my loyalties are. but i know what i want, and it’s not… it’s not validation, anymore.”
“thank you.”
“i want this,” you add, unnecessarily, and techno pulls you impossibly closer, skin sliding against warm skin under the thick covers. intimate and safe.
you stay like that, together, for quite sometime.
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masterlist
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doinmybesthere · 4 months ago
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petting the dolphin
marine biologist!deku x kindergarten teacher reader(f!reader)
summary - Midoriya invites you up in front of your class to pet one of the dolphins. What could go wrong? 
aquarium collab masterlist
a/n - p*rn with BASICALLY no plot lol, izuku is a reluctant, sweet top, a clumsy idiot in love, izuku does not flirt well but he does mean well, he’s a sweet babie w a thick cock i don’t make the rules. 
 “Come on,”  you call, herding your class of slightly sticky, bright eyed kindergarteners to the front of the room. You give them a warm smile. “Who can tell me where penguins live?” 
“ANTARTICA!” A boy in the front row, with dark sparkling eyes and short twists screams. “AND THEY LAY EGGS!” You giggle, and your aide smiles warmly.
“Both are true, good job James!” He glows, puffing out his chest, shoving sticky fingers into  his pant pockets. 
“I know other things about Penguins!” He says, turning to his classmates. “Like did you know they can swim at over 25 miles per hour?” 
“Sounds like you know your stuff!” A voice says over your shoulder, and you turn, jumping a mile and putting a hand over your heart. A tall man, muscles bowing out of his tight evergreen polo shirt with the aquarium’s logo on it, is standing with his arms crossed next to the tank. “Did you know that there are actually some penguins that spend part of the year on beaches in South Africa?” 
“No way.” James breathes, all 12 kindergarteners turn to the man, wide eyed. “I knew they can hold their breath for 2, for two whole minutes!” He yells back at the man who smiles, his green eyes twinkling. He waves your class over, squatting next to the penguin enclosure and lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. Anna, the teacher’s aide, raises her eyebrows at you, eyes flicking to his huge biceps and toned shoulders, obvious in the thin green polo.
“See that one over there?” He points to a penguin with a sharp-looking orange beak that was swimming sharp laps around the spacious pool, totally focused on the kids. “That’s Lightning Mcqueen, he likes to race. And I’ve seen him hold his breath for 4 whole minutes.” A ripple of gasps echo through the kids, he looks up at you, smiling warmly and standing while the kids press themselves up against the glass. “I’m Midoriya.” He says, reaching out a huge tanned hand for yours, swallowing it with a handshake. Behind you, Anna makes a face.
“Hi,” you say blushing a little. “That’s my class, and this is Anna, my aide.” He laughs a little. 
“I gathered, yeah, nice to meet you, Anna.” He says, barely looking at her before turning his attention back to you. “I’m a Biologist here.” You nod, giving him a wry smile. 
“I gathered that as well.” He puts his palms up. 
“Very fair.” His laugh is easy and warm, and he’s so handsome he kind of hurts to look at, you catch yourself wondering if the freckles dusting his nose continue down onto his shoulders. “How long have you been a teacher?” 
“Three years.” You say, sighing happily. “It’s my dream job.” You look fondly at your class. “I’m y/n.” He looks a little sheepish. 
“I should have asked your name.” You laugh. 
“Yes, you should have.” He grins,
 “I um,” he looks a little nervous before his face warms, “Do you um,” you look at him carefully, your palms breaking into a sweat as speaks, but he just blurts out, “Do you think the kids would want to see the dolphins play a little?” You nod.
“I think they’d love that!” You say. “Hey, kids!” They peel themselves away from the glass, one of them tugging at your skirt. “This is Midoriya,” you introduce the man standing next to you. “He’s a Marine Biologist and he’s gonna show us how the dolphins play!” Emma, a little girl with straw colored pigtails and huge blue eyes gasps. 
“They. Are. My. Favorite. Animal.” She reaches over and tugs on Midoriya’s khaki shorts, he goes bright red, he’s not usually self-conscious about his work uniform but for the occasion of meeting you he feels underdressed. 
“They’re pretty cool!” He admits. “Are you ready?” He asks the class and there’s a chorus of cheers as he leads them across the rubber floor, realizing how ugly and unfashionable his practical sneakers are. It’s all you can to do keep your eyes off his broad shoulders, as you heard the kids across the room, pulling them away from the line for the touch tank, with a soft, musical promise, 
“Later.” You get to a huge pair of double doors that Midorya pushes open with a huge hand. The kids rush into what looks like an auditorium, except instead of the stage there’s a huge tank. 
“We don’t do shows here.” Midoriya explains. “This is an animal sanctuary, so that means we take in marine animals who might be sick, or lost, and they stay with us until they’re healthy and ready to go back to their families, or in this case,” He turns around, and you can just make out the dolphins swimming in frantic, dizzying circles, “Their pods.” The students press themselves up against the glass. His stomach turns a little, you were so, so beautiful, he kept forgetting where he was. 
“Do you um,” His hands are sweaty, he keeps wiping them on his khakis, hoping you don’t notice, “Do you want to um, check out the uh, Dolphins, um, I can get one of them to shake your hand?” To his relief your face lights up. 
“Yes!” You cry, and he takes the walkie talkie off his hip and murmurs something in it quickly, a couple of his aides come and stand with the kids. He helps you around the back of the enclosure to a faux rocky outcrop and you turn around, teeth briefly scraping your lower lip in a way that makes his face warm. “Okay, um, I’m nervous.” He shakes his head. 
“Nothing to be afraid of.” He squats and pulls a whistle from his pocket, blowing through it lightly. You nearly jump a mile when a huge animal bursts out of the water, braying like a horse, then  hoisting itself up on the platform. You look down into its beady eyes, Midoriya is petting it like it’s a dog. The kids in your class squeal and cheer, so you reach a hand out and he catches your wrist. “Like this,” He guides your flat palm against the dolphins' back, it makes a low squeak, you can feel the vibrations on your palm. 
“Oh,” you say softly, feeling the animal relax under your touch. Midoriya is barely breathing as your lips part and that soft sound drips down. He’s a little too focused on  you, on how relaxed you seem with this, on your beautiful face, on your cheekbones reflected and refracted on the choppy blue water. That might be why he doesn’t notice when  you start to slip, until it’s too late. 
You fall into the freezing water with a loud splash, much to the delight of your class. They squeal with joy, even though Midoriya is pulling you out of the tank quickly, profusely apologizing, you just giggle, standing up and facing your class, taking a bow. 
“Oh god,” Midoriya continues, “I’m so sorry, I just I should have been more careful, it’s uh, it’s so wet here, on the deck and um,” the dolphins slides back into the water and you turn to him, teeth chattering. 
“Its uh, it’s alright,” you smile weakly, “Is there a towel?” he nods and leaps into action, pulling one from the back of the enclosure, throwing it around your shoulders. “So embarrassing,” you mumble, looking up at him, “I’m s-so clumsy.” He shakes his head, without thinking, he puts his hand on  your upper arm, rubbing gently to  help it dry. You’re freezing, and he’s as red as a tomato. 
“C-can your aide watch the class? We have dry clothes.” You nod, sighing with relief. You wave to Anna and the class continues with the tour as he leads you back behind  the exhibit into some offices. 
“I’m so sorry,” He says, as you shiver next to him, “That water is so cold, I should have caught you, I feel like such an asshole,” you turn to him and he gets redder, “And I just cursed in front of a teacher.” 
“I say fuck sometimes.” You say, a light giggle falling from your lips as you shiver again. You knock into his shoulder as he leads you down the hallway, the walls decorated with pictures of sea creatures released back to the wild. His arm moves almost of its own accord, snaking around your waist. You lean against him, you can feel his muscles even through the towel. He opens the door for you  and you step inside his office. The desk is covered with piles of papers, ink stained papers and notes everywhere. 
“Oh wow,” you say through chattering teeth as he digs in the little closet. He hums,
“Yeah, I know it’s a mess but uh, this way, this way I know where everything is,” he turns around and gestures to the piles of paper, “It makes sense to me, I promise, I um,” when he flattens his hands out like that you can see the scars between his fingers, his forearms swollen with muscle around his waterproof watch. He has his head in the closet while you fidget nervously. He turns around and moves eagerly throughout the small space, carrying a pair of grey sweatpants and matching sweatshirt embroidered with the aquarium logo. You step forward and he accidentally hooks one of his feet on the office chair, tripping. You try your best to catch him, which was, after all, a mistake. His weight pulls you down with him and he barely manages to brace himself with one hand on his office chair, which of course is on wheels. 
“Fuck, I,” He says, as he stumbles further, and you squeal as he falls and smack his head on the side of his desk. 
“Oh my god,” you say quickly, kneeling beside him on the floor. 
“This is so embarrassing.” He moans, frantically scrambling to his feet only to slip again on some of the paper that spilled when he fell, this time landing beside you right on his ass. “Fuck and in front of you I-” He looks up at you, “Um, I mean,” 
“It’s okay,” You say quickly, “It’s um, it’s fine, can I um,” You gesture to his head and open your palm in front of him. 
“Oh yeah,” he says, sheepishly, “Sure, I um, sure.” Without thinking, he lays his chin in your freezing palm, “You’re still all wet,” He says, placing the dry clothes in  your lap. You turn his chin gently, inspecting the red mark on his cheek where it collided with the metal side of his desk. “How’s it look doc?” He says, attempting humor. 
“I think you’ll live.” You muse. 
“If I were one of your students, would I get a sparkly band aid or something?” He says quietly, a smile creeping back onto his face, despite the utter humiliation of being on the floor with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. You laugh. 
“Are you hoping I’ll kiss it better?” All the moisture leaves his mouth and he blinks at you. “Oh god,” You say, burning your own warming face in your hands, “That was so awful and ch-cheesey,” You shiver again. “It’s been a while since I’ve um,” you look away for a moment and he speaks.
“No, no, no,” He says quickly, waving his hands at you, “No I um,” he looks up at you, an intensity burning in his soft green eyes. “I was, hoping you would. Kiss it uh, better, maybe.” You move slowly, leaning into him then, pressing your lips softly to the top of his cheek. There’s a moment, where you can feel his warm breath on your neck, and you shiver again. 
“I’ve got to get back to my class,” You mutter, looking up at him from under thick lashes. 
“You’re freezing.” He says, lifting his head towards yours, until your lips brush, “Please, I want to, I can,” he slips your soaked cardigan off your shoulders and it lands on the floor behind you with a splat, “I want to,” he starts again, 
“Me too,” you mutter, an edge of urgency to your voice, and then his huge hands are on your hips and he’s kissing  you hungrily, desperately, you shiver again and he laughs into your mouth. 
“Let’s get these fucking clothes off.” There’s something new in his tone, something almost commanding, it makes your cheeks hot and your heart flutter. “C’mon.” He says, standing and lifting you at the same time, not waiting for you to do it, unzipping your dress in one clean move, letting it pool around your feet before wrapping his arms around your body and pinning you to the wall of his office. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling him slip a thick thigh between yours, you can’t help but grind against it, and he laughs again. “Needy, huh?” You sigh delicately and every hair on his body stands up. 
“Midoriya,” you moan, when he dives into your neck, placing blooming, burning open mouthed kisses along your collarbone, 
“Izuku,” he corrects you, “Please, god,” he snarls the second word, hands moving to palm your breasts, worshipping every inch of your body that he can touch, one hand fumbling with your bra for a second before he manages to unclasp it and toss it on the chair. He rakes his hands through your soaked hair, and you arch your back against the wall. You’re rolling your hips against his thigh when you feel his lips on your ear, “God, are you you gonna cum just on my thigh,” your face burns with humiliation and you whimper softly, you feel a burst of pain when he bites down, then the soft swipe of his tongue, “S-so fuckin’ beautiful.” He says, “Come on baby, you filthy fuckin’ thing.” Your hips stutter in their movements, you drop your head to his shoulder, mouth on his neck, buried in his warmth. 
“Fuck, ‘zuku,” you moan quietly, “Gonna cum,” 
“Go ahead baby,” He breathes, “Right on my thigh, fuck,” he feels the wet spot form as you bite down on his skin, he tastes of salt and chlorine, he smells like sweat, and man, and you tremble and shake as you reach your high, tipping gently over the edge as he rubs the back of your head soothingly. “Good girl,” he coos, reaching down for his belt, unbuckling it smoothly, and you blink down at his thick cock, it’s not the longest you’ve ever seen but it looks heavy and wide, slapping against his stomach. He reaches between your legs and slips your soaked panties to the side with a soft groan. “You’re so wet,” he follows your eyes downward and the ghost of smirk crosses his face, “Don’t worry baby,” he coos, “It’ll fit.” Your mouth drops open as he teases it across your slit, rubbing the head on your clit which is still pulsing from your orgasm a few minutes ago. 
“Zuku,” you whine, “Please, I want-” at your words he buries himself inside you to the hilt, you gasp at the feeling, you’re so full, and his cock is so wide he’s hitting every spot without even trying. You collapse into him and he picks you up, fingers digging into your soft thighs as he moves you up and down his length. 
“Fuck,” he whispers, “You’re so beautiful,” He says into your neck, “so pretty,” you kiss him then, and it’s burning and ardent, needy and hungry, you’re still freezing - and he’s warm. He presses you against the wall, taking a step forward and you feel his hips flush against your ass as he groans loudly. “God you feel so good,” he mumbles, biting softly on your lower lip before closing his eyes for a moment and picking up the pace, “Touch yourself,” he orders, “Wanna feel you cum on my cock,” he blinks up at you, “Please uh, I mean,” but you’re already doing it, expertly rubbing your clit, mewling quietly as he fucks you into oblivion. 
“Hah, oh,” you bounce a little, closing your eyes and whining as you get close again, “Can I-” 
“Did you just ask for permission to cum?” He breathes, and you flush. “No that’s so fucking hot,” he says, a darker edge to his voice, “No baby, cum with me, hold on,” he pulls you away from the wall, eyes the desk for a second before saying, “Fuck it.” With one hand he sweeps all his papers down and lays you gently down on it, your legs around his shoulders as he rips his shirt off, revealing tanned, sculpted muscle. You lick your lips and breathe in sharply as he goes back to fucking you into oblivion, getting harder inside you before blushing deeply and pulling out, spilling his cum on your stomach. There’s a quiet moment, where the only sound is the two of you breathing. He scoops you up, wrapping you in his arms, pressing his lips to your cheek. 
“So uh,” He says in a low voice. “Can I take you to dinner, tonight?” You nod. 
“I think that might be appropriate.” 
You go back to your class, in the aquarium sweats, your wet hair piled in a knot on your head. Only Anna recognizes the redness on your cheeks, and a wry smile forms on her face as each of the parents picks their kids up outside the concrete building. 
“How was it?” She asks cheekily. 
“Petting the dolphin?” You ask, flushing, trying to deflect. 
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” She mutters. 
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barnxsromanxff · 2 months ago
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Pregnancy | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Do not repost any of my writes without credit to me
this is part 2 of a multi part click part 1 to read it first**
part 1  /  part 3 
 masterlist
Prompt: craving, mood swings, sore muscles, and nausea... just what you wanted. As well as decorating aka buckys favorite part
Pairing: Bucky barnes x pregnant!reader
Warnings: Fluff, gagging and vomit, use of the word daddy (not sexually, partially flirty), fluffy crying, flirty bucky, just happy things
A/N: You don’t have to read part 1 for this but it helps with the story so i suggest u do first. This is my first multi part fic so i hope you enjoy! requests open <3
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This was disgusting. It was 5 am when you would normally be in a deep sleep, instead here you were. Laying on the bathroom floor just to feel the cool tile against your skin, you felt warm and sweat coated your body. You groaned and sat up, your stomach made a noise and you heaved into the toilet bowl.
Craving ice cream and pickles was your weakness, it absolutely disgusted Bucky but he still fed you bites. He even tried some when you begged him, the face he made after was hilarious. You laughed about it for longer that you should’ve, even with your bugging he still fed you bites.
“How are we suppose to decorate without knowing the gender?”
You walked into the nursery which was completely empty except a dresser which a changing table strapped on top.
“Well we can put the basics in, it doesn’t have to be themed by the gender. Maybe a more gender neutral color?”
He nodded and scratched his neck as he looked at the directions for the crib. He groaned and looked on the floor, searching for the piece.
“Have you seen,”
He looked at the paper again in confusion, eyes scanning every word.
“Piece 12?”
You chuckled and dropped down to the floor and took the paper from him, your eye brows furrowed as your face changed into a confused expression matching his.
“This is really complicated.”
“Here it is!”
He celebrated with a little fit bump in the air and continued with his mission, building a baby crib.
“Good job daddy.”
You smiled at him and he tilted his head up at your comment.
“I think I could get used to you calling me that.”
You blushed and got up dusting off your legs and walked towards the boxes of stuff.
“Oh i’m sure you could.”
You two sat in comfortable silence as you shifted through the supplies, your friends and family were kind enough to send you two lots and lots of baby clothes and presents. You hadn’t even had a baby shower yet and you two were already over flowing with your new child’s things.
“Buck? Which one should we hang up on the wall here.”
You pointed to above the rocking chair to the side wall near where the babies crib is suppose to be. He looked at the two options, and thought about it.
“The one with elephants, it’s cute”
You nodded and put it in the pile with everything else you decided would get put up. You sucked in your breath and put your hand on your stomach, you turned to buck quickly.
“Bucky I can feel the baby.”
He looked up and immediately ran up to you, his hands touched your belly gently and lifted your shirt. The soft little kick made him smile, he could feel his child.
“They’re gonna be strong.”
You nodded and wiped a tear off of buckys cheek, just because you were pregnant didn’t mean you were the only emotional one.
“We’re gonna have a lot to handle.”
Bucky chuckled and rested his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as he rubbed your belly. His breathing slowed and he focused on one thing only, the heartbeat. Every time he did this you knew to be quiet, his enhanced hearing was an advantage. Once the baby starting growing and heart got stronger he could listen in and check up on the little thing.
“They’re okay.”
You nodded and caressed his cheek, you leaned up and kissed him softly. He smelled like sweets and you loved it, taking in a deep breath you let go of him and patted his shoulders
“Better start getting to work daddy.”
He gave you the side eye and walked back to his mess of parts.
About 2 hours later you could hear a loud yes from the nursery, he finally did it. His loud steps made you pick your head from a book and you looked at his smile.
“I single handedly put together the crib. I know, I know, i’m the best husband.”
You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, you two walked back and your eyes widened. He put together the crib, and organized the clothes, he even put together shelves and put books on the shelf next to the rocking chair.
You walked in the room and your hand fell to your belly out of habit, you looked around. Everywhere you looked you could see you two with your child, the rocking chair had buck in it rocking the little chubby baby. You could see you both laying down holding toys above them letting them try and reach them. Your hand slid on the edge of the crib and you looked in it, the mobile rang as your finger tips flicked the little stars. It was all so perfect, you really couldn’t believe this was your life.
“Do you like it?”
You turned back to him and hugged him, he hugged you back and lifted you off the ground for a second. His hugs always got a little out of hand, especially with his strength.
“It’s so perfect.”
He kissed your nose and looked around at the room, it truly was perfect. Of course you still needed to add some more to the walls and you did still have to paint. Which meant taking everything out again but you didn’t mind. After a minute of silence and soaking in the atmosphere your stomach growled and you looked up to an amused Bucky.
“Can we have some ice cream and pickles?”
His face morphed into disgust but then he laughed and rubbed your tummy.
“Anything for you, mama.”
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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 months ago
Hey!! I love your writing. Can you do a Yandere! Ranboo, Tommy , and tubbo. where they are all in love with the reader and they kidnapped her to ‘keep her safe’ and the reader doesn’t know at first, then she slow realized they are obsessed with her. she like them back but she also want to live her life, so she tries to make agreement? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.
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The Ranboo gif is just beautiful and I love it. Lemme see what I can do for ya! I wrote a bullet point Platonic fic if that's fine? I'm still worried about writing the minors in romantic relationships, even if it's the characters.
Sorry, it took so long... My burnout got really bad and I refused to even write basic stuff. But I'm back now! Well. Mostly.
Safe Behind Glass (Yandere!Plat!C!Bench Trio x GN!Reader)
You were a little groggier than normal when you awoke, but it was nothing to alarm you immediately.
Just simply brushing it off as you weren't feeling the best that day, you rolled over to fall back to sleep, but quickly noticed something wrong.
It didn't feel... Right?
The blankets... The mattress... The pillow... They weren't yours...
You peeled your eyes open and your expression went blank with fear.
The room was beautiful mind you.
But it wasn't yours either.
You were laying on a fluffy (f/c) canopy bed, surrounded by quartz walls that were dimly lit soul lanterns that prevented you from being completely swallowed by darkness.
Slowly dragging yourself off the bed, you heard a metal 'clunk' that hit the cold quartz flooring below you.
Turning your head to face downwards, you saw that a decently thick metal chain was cuffed to your ankle.
Somehow, your panic became worse as you immediately grabbed onto it and started to yank on the solid metal, but it refused to budge.
You had no idea how many minutes or hours you spent in that room. Reaching at the iron door desperately, yanking at the chain around your ankle that kept you from reaching the exit, searching the blue lanterns for anything...
But then, the white metallic door slowly swung open, revealing Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy.
You weren't that close to them, save for a couple interactions here and there, but hey, they came to save you! That didn't matter in the slightest!
You almost cried upon seeing them and moved to walk over, but the chain stopped you from reaching them, and you noticed that they weren't moving to help you.
"You're awake!" Tubbo chirped softly, his tan goat ears wiggling with joy, "I'm glad the potion didn't stick for too long... You could've wound up starving if you stayed asleep."
Horror slowly began to set into your heart as Ranboo nodded and walked over to the dark oak table in the corner of the room and set down a basket of food.
"Ran...Boo...?" You whispered, watching as the monochrome male turned and curiously tilted his head in your direction, "Why... Am I here?"
Instead, Tommy stepped in front of you with a bright cheesy smile, the same one that resembled when he would find a new disc or start a new adventure, "For your safety, (N/n)!"
"Safety?" You choked out softly, Ranboo quickly guiding you to sit in the oak chair, "But... I'm one of the richest people on the server... I have god armour... Nothing could kill m-"
"Techno and Dream can." Tubbo interrupted sharply, halting you mid-sentence.
Right... That masked man... Or whatever he was... He was extremely dangerous, as well as Techno. They could likely pierce your netherite chest plate without even flinching at the number of thorns you had enchanted.
"We don't want anyone to bring you any harm... There's no problem with that, right, (Y/n)?" Ranboo smiled, flashing his sharpened teeth unthreateningly.
No... You wanted to say, but you wanted freedom! You wanted to expand your house to the size of a mansion! You wanted to bicker with Quackity about the stupidest of things! You wanted to get building advice from Phil!
Not be locked away because your safety was a tiny bit compromised!
"Tommy... Tubbo... Ranboo... Please, I'm not going to just stay locked away because I-"
"You'll see things our way soon... Eat up, get your rest." Tubbo smiled and gave you a hug, ignoring how you froze suddenly, before turning and skipping out of the room with the taller two following behind him.
Despite... How screwed up the three were with their methods of making you be their friend, it was working...
They were actually incredibly friendly and funny. It made life in capture bearable! Even though you were incredibly snappy and cruel to them in the beginning, they never held it against you.
Although... Despite their kindness and your quickly blooming friendship, you still had a craving to go outside. Even if what the three told you about everyone forgetting you existed was true.
"You look sad, (N/n)..." Tubbo murmured softly, watching you stare off into the blank quartz wall, "Are you okay?"
Tommy straightened up from his handmade scribble of a map, turning his head towards you in confusion. Ranboo stopped writing mid-word likely and looked in your direction as well.
They never liked it when you were upset.
You pursed your lips silently for a moment, clearly unsettling the males around you, "I just... Haven't been feeling too great... Both mentally and physically I mean... I need sunlight..."
"Yeah... I was reading about that earlier..." Ranboo hummed softly, adjusting his crown as he looked up at the ceiling, "But the issue is..."
"My safety... Yes, I know. What if, I wear my full netherite armour and keep a totem AND a Rapple on me? And also not leave your sides?" You bargained nervously.
That hadn't worked before. But then again, You weren't as close to them before...
The silence that fell upon the room was unsettling and caused your heart to race quickly. If they didn't like what you said, you would be alone for a few straight days... You didn't like it...
"Okay."
What.
That worked?
You just had to ask?!
You watched as Tubbo stood up and pulled the small ender chest from his pocket and set it on the ground, causing it to grow to normal size.
Standing aside, he made a gesture for you to open it and get your stuff.
Hesitantly, You walked over and kneeled down in front of the ender chest. Looking to Tubbo and the others for confirmation, you slowly opened it once they nodded.
Carefully, you began pulling out your armour but paused seeing the lack of golden apples and totems.
Right... Before you had gotten kidnapped by the group, you had used a totem when you fell into the L'Manhole where L'Manberg once was.
That what caused them to kidnap you...
"I-I used... My totem... And Fundy stole my Rapple..." You murmured hesitantly, feeling ready to cry.
Your only chance to escape and you couldn't grab it...
"Hey! Hey! Don't cry! Here!" Ranboo eagerly held the two golden items out towards you at the first sight of tears gathering under your eyes.
"What...?"
"(Y/n)! We want you to be happy! If being outside, even with god armour, rapples and totems, makes you happy, then damn well we're bringing you outside!" Tommy grinned.
After a few tears and lots of hugs, Tubbo helped you hop into your armour while Ranboo unlocked the chain cuff from around your ankle. Tommy had left, leaving the door open for once, going to scout the area for any dangerous mobs.
"Ready?" Ranboo smiled, linking one of his arms with yours, the one that you held the totem in to be more specific. Tubbo happily linked his arm with the other one.
You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as they began to walk you out the door, Ranboo had to duck down a lot, before leading you to the quartz stairway.
Once up the stairs, Tubbo pressed in a code to the iron door and it slid open quickly, causing you to flinch and pinch your eyes shut at the bright painful light of the sun.
It took about twenty minutes of trying to adjust to the sunlight with the two males encouraging you before you were able to look around.
It was everything you had missed...
The sunlight...
The trees...
God, it was perfect...
Tommy eventually came out of the tree line and sat down beside you as you took it all in...
Months, you were down there. And sure, they gave you plenty of decorations to prevent you from experiencing sensory deprivation, nothing could ever compare to the beauty of the outside world.
A voice cut through the air -calling for someone or something named Fran?- and you almost didn't recognize it. But then the owner came out of the trees, almost a similar direction that Tommy came from earlier.
Sam? He looked so... Different now...
The creeper hybrid slowly lowered his gas mask to show his mouth dropped in shock, "(Y/n)...? You're alive...?"
Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were freaking out, trying to bring you back into the bunker, as they called it, but you weren't budging. You hadn't seen another being in ages... And while you did platonically love the three boys, you enjoyed hearing a new voice.
"You... Remember me? But... Tubbo you said-" You frowned at the goat hybrid as they stopped suddenly, realizing that you weren't moving.
"You three... Kept them locked away... For almost an entire year?" Sam's voice was getting a little bit scary now, but it wasn't directed at you, instead, at your best friends...
"Sam! It was to protect them! Please!" Ranboo tried, but he wasn't making it better.
"You made Quackity believe they ran away... Made Philza wake up every morning and walk through the SMP for any signs of them... Gave Puffy false information on where you have last seen them... lied to everyone... Only to be the reason that they were gone." Sam growled out, gripping his trident, "Then you proceeded to make them think we all forgot about them..."
"S-Sam... You've got this all wrong big man..." Tubbo tried next...
The warden wasn't listening as he pointed his trident at them, his communicator in his other hand next to his mouth, then he started speaking, causing his voice to come out of Ranboo's, Tubbo's and Tommy's pockets. He was speaking on the public channel.
"Tommy Innit, Tubbo Underscore, Ranboo Beloved... You are being placed in the prison, Pandora's Vault, for keeping (Y/n) (L/n) imprisoned in a bunker and lying about their whereabouts."
It felt like someone splashed you with cold water...
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roscgcld · 7 months ago
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RYOMEN SUKUNA || we will meet again
anime: jujutsu kaisen
characters: ryomen sukuna
pronouns: she/her
proof read: N/A
"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."
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Back in the day, when Jujutsu Sorcerers were at their prime, lived a Cursed Spirit who goes by the name Sukuna. Once a human Sorcerer himself, he had somehow managed to create himself into the Jujutsu world's most feared Cursed Spirit. He was dubbed 'the King of Curses' and rained terror over the human and jujutsu world; with super natural powers and a sadistic personality to match the title. Everyone who has crossed him shook in absolute fear.
That was, of course, before he met a particular princess.
She was a beautiful woman; the daughter of one of the then king’s favourite concubines. Born with the alluring beauty of her mother, and a heart of gold, it was hard to ignore her presence when she walked into a room. 
She was brought up in the palace, where she was given the title as princess; but she will never sit on the throne of the kingdom her father rules over. As only the King’s wife is allowed to bear the heir that will sit on the throne. She didn’t mind, she had never desired such power to begin with. Even if she was going to be married off to one of the many foreign princes asking for her hand in marriage, she didn’t care about titles. 
Since she was never destined to sit on the throne, her father had given her quite the freedom to do as she pleases. With all her free time, she tends to use it connect to the people of her kingdom; helping the needy during their time of need, always purchasing things from the local vendors and merchants that have travelled long and far. She is beloved by the people, and shines a light on the royal family that makes them more human instead of the godly image that is projected onto the royal family.
Anyone who meets her would fall in love for her - and apparently not even Cursed Spirits were the exception.
The princess have always love spending her time out in nature - horse back riding with a few of the guards in training, swimming in the river that her brothers love to hunt by, learning about the different plants and herbs from the doctors that go out foraging for medical herbs. So it came to the surprise to no one when Sukuna stumbled onto the princess by accident on the riverbed.
Sukuna had not expected to see any human about as he goes about his walk deep in the woods. It was one of those rare moments to himself where he does not necessarily have anything he needed to do on hand, and also the few rare moments where he does not have a mob of sorcerers up his ass. He was just enjoying the sounds of nature and the soft wind blowing against his kimono when he heard what sounded like a human's laughter coming from the river near by. At first he was curious, since no human usually ventures this deeply into the woods. At the same time, he had wanted to ignore it, since humans are just a pain in the ass to deal with even if they can't see you. However, there was something so alluring about that soft giggle that had him wanting to see just who this annoying brat was. So, without even him realising what was happening, his feet quietly walked towards the river and before he knew it, he had pushed the last branch aside to peek over at the river bed curiously. Sitting before him on a flat rock by the river was a woman with flowing hair, her small feet dipped into the running water below as her hands reached forward to play with a few of the fishes that swam by. The pink fabric of her furisode laid behind her like a pink halo, showcasing the intricate sakura trees and flowers that were sown into the fabric. The aura around her was relaxed and peaceful, and somehow just seeing her brings him a sense of peace. As if she could sense his stare, the woman suddenly pauses before she turns to look over her shoulder curiously; bright and seemingly glowing eyes meeting his red ones head on. Sukusa felt the world around him come to a stop as the eyes of the princess before him trapped him on the spot, causing him to loose all train of thought from before. "Oh - were you wanting to sit here too?"
"Huh?"
The casual way she just asked him that question definitely threw him off. The woman actually just lets out a soft laugh at his dry answer. "It's alright - we can share the space if you don't mind." She commented, a teasing tone taking over her voice as she patted the free spot beside her. "I promise I don't bite."
If she had known just who this man was, she might actually understand how ironic her sentence was. But Sukuna decided not to comment on it as he quietly makes his way towards her, sitting down at the spot beside the princess whose eyes had already returned to the river before her. "The water feels extra nice today. And there is more fishes then usual." She conversed with the man casually, causing Sukuna to wonder if she is pretending to be as dense as she is right now. "How are you so calm right now? I mean, do you see a 10ft tall human with four arms every day or what? Your reaction is sort of dull." 
The princess pauses in thought as she thinks, looking far too relaxed by his side. "I have always been able to see...odd things." She started off with a soft hum, glancing over at the man beside her with a soft smile. "I have asked people around me before, and after realising that I am the only one who can see them, I decided to ignore them." She admitted, running her dry hand through her hair softly. "But if I am being honest, this is the first time one has actually ever spoken to me."
"Well, I'm not the everyday curses." He said with a slightly proud tune in his voice, to which the princess beside him looks up at the taller man with interest. "Every day curses are small things, I am basically what people in my world call a Special Grade Curse." He continued, and for some reason, when he saw how her eyes were staring up at in him awe, he looked away with a light blush on his face. He doesn't even know what was about her that drags out these human-like emotions from him - he had never felt like this ever before.
"Special Grade Curse?" She echoes back with curiosity, to which the man beside her just nods softly as he leans back to rest on the free arms, the other two crossed across his chest. Suddenly she turned to face him, her eyes shining so brightly with excitement that it caused Sukuna to squint a little. "Can you explain just what you are to me a little more?"
One question was all it took to have Sukuna falling, and if he was being honest - he actually didn’t mind spending so much time on this little human. From sharing stolen nights in her bedroom in the royal palace, to sneaking out to just go to the riverbed where the met for the first time; they even spent time just wandering about his domain. It was actually during these small explorations of the world around them that created a special bond between the two.
For her, he was her escape from the restrictive and repetitive routine of royal life. For him, she was his utopia, a person he can turn to whenever he feels like just killing everyone around him. Soon though, these emotions sprouted into something deeper and more personal. It was jarring at first, falling for a human - but he knows that she was worth it all.
He remembers the way her eyes shone brightly with a constant look of innocence in them, yet she is mature and realistic enough to know that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. He remembers the way she carries herself, her warm and loving smile, how content he felt whenever she wrapped her arms around him. He loves the feeing of her soft hair that tumbles around her face in soft waves, how it feels like silk whenever he runs his fingers through them. How with just one glance, she can fill the void in his heart that he didn't know existed.
Yet they were never set to happy ending to begin with.
It was during just what started off like a normal day when the town the princess was in was suddenly invaded by a rival kingdom’s army. Their goal was to conquer and take over the kingdom with any means necessarily; meaning that the royal family had to go.
Uraume had entered his hideout, panting with wide eyes as they told Sukuna of the town now plunging into chaos. Within seconds the Cursed Spirit was up and sprinting towards the royal palace, great fear and anger gripping him from within. Entering through the destroyed doors of the grand palace, he ignored the screams of anguish of the others around him as he ran straight towards one of the buildings - the building where the royal sleeping chambers were located.
When he finally found her room, he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.
The once beautifully crafted shoji doors with panels decorated in a beautiful forest scene now laid in tatters, the furniture inside looking as if though a huge scuffle had happened. Rushing deeper into the room, he felt his heart sank to its stomach when he saw the splatters of blood leading towards the small room where the princess would sleep in.
Entering the back room, his red eyes scanned over the many splatters of blood about the room, the red handprints of the princess smeared across the ornate walls whilst the body of the princess laid on her futon; the sheets now soaked in blood. "No, no, no.." Sukuna managed out in horror as he quickly made his way to his lover's side, pulling her bloodied body into his arms immediately. "Flower, open your eyes. Please.."
Slowly her eyelids begin to move, and Sukuna felt his heart break when he saw how her now dull and tired eyes shifted to look up at him, taking a moment to truly process just who he was. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna mumbles out through a small voice as he pulls her closer, trying his hardest to press his hands against the gashing wound on her abdomen. Since the wound was inflicted by a non-sorcerer, there was no trace of cursed magic on her; meaning that there was no way he can save her to begin with. "I-If only I had known..."
"Shh...it's okay.." The princess whispered out in a soft but pained tone, her bloody hand reaching up to cup his tattoo cheek ever so softly. The familiar touch brought another wave of emotion through Sukuna as he tries to blink back his tears, pulling her closer to his chest as he shifted his posture so she was sitting in his lap. He barely even acknowledge his own kimono that was slowly being soaked in blood. "Y-You didn't know this was going to happen...no one did...don't blame yourself..."
With watery red eyes Sukuna marvelled at how even though she was on death's doorstep, she still tried to put on a smile for his sake. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna manages through a pained tone, tears now sliding down his face in thick streams whilst the woman just gave him a loving smile, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't be.." She mumbles softly, forcing the man to look down at her as she gave him the same smile that had him falling for her from the beginning. "You know that...it takes more than this to get rid of me.."
The teasing words caused Sukuna to let out a soft and pained laugh, remembering the times where he would tell her how annoying she was whenever she would cling onto him and tease him relentlessly. He would trade anything to go back to those moments once more. "Brat.." He manages through his silent sobs, to which the woman just lets out a soft laugh as her fingers slowly traced along his features. For a few moments it was just silence, but the next time she spoke, Sukuna knew that the end was coming.
"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."
"I promise, my love." Sukuna mumbles back quietly, resting his forehead against hers when he noticed how much effort it takes for her to blink. "No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you." He told her firmly as he presses a loving kiss on her forehead. "No matter how long it takes.." She echoes quietly, to which Sukuna just press a loving kiss on her head just as he felt her soft hand slowly slide down his chest, falling limply on her side.
For a moment Sukuna just held her against him, quietly crying into her hair. His entire world was in his arms, and just like that she was taken away from him. From that sadness came anger, and he soon found himself with the deep desire to crush whoever took her away from him.
Thus started the true rein of terror under the King of Curses, his anger fueling him to chase for bigger goals. Whilst he strive to rid of this world of dirty humans who took his flower away from her, he kept the vow that they promised one another - that they will wait for the other no matter how long it takes.
Because he had promised you so, and he’d do anything to keep that promise.
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© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform
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tomfknholland · 5 months ago
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The Boy Next Door
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WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.
inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom
(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)
The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.
y/n. Always the new girl.
"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.
I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.
We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.
"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.
I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.
"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.
We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.
"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.
We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.
"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.
"At least someone does." I remarked.
She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.
"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.
"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.
"Well...this time it's different."
I scoffed, "You always say that."
"I swear this time!"
"And that!"
"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.
"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.
I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.
I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.
The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.
I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.
A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.
A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.
Our next door neighbours apparently.
The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.
"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.
"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.
Thomas.
He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."
"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."
Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.
"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.
"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.
"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.
"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.
His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.
I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.
I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.
I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.
"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.
My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.
-
I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.
"He's 18,"
"Dropped out of school last year,"
"Says he wants to be an actor,"
"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."
"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"
"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."
The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.
During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.
-
It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.
A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.
I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.
I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.
I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.
He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.
He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.
He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.
This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.
'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.
I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.
I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.
But curiosity filled my brain.
Where was he going?
-
Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.
I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.
I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.
However, it didn't shield me from him completely.
I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.
Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.
But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.
They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.
Cammando: I hate you for leaving me
y/n: your fault not mine :)
I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.
I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.
I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.
He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.
He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.
Otherworldly, perhaps?
He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...
It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.
I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.
God, he was so hot.
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.
I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.
I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.
I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.
I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.
I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.
I had to blink a few times to really look.
It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.
But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.
They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.
I looked through the comments.
OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby
"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.
They had been together for a YEAR.
"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.
"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.
I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.
I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.
I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.
I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.
"Ouch."
I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.
It was Tom.
He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.
He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.
"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.
"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.
"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.
"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"
He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.
I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.
"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.
"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."
"Why would she come here?" I asked.
"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."
"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.
He smirked, "You know what, I like you."
He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.
I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.
"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.
"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."
I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.
"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.
I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.
"You like looking at things."
I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.
"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.
"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."
I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."
"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.
I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.
"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.
"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.
I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.
He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"
I stuttered as we came face to face.
"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.
"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.
I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.
He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."
I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.
This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.
He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.
"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.
I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.
He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.
I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.
"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.
"Is your family home?" He asked.
"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.
He smirked, "Good."
He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.
His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.
I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.
He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.
"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.
I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"
His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"
"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.
He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.
"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.
"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.
"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.
He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.
He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.
He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.
He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.
"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.
I gulped, "S-sure."
He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.
"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"
"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.
"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.
His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.
"Feels so good." I moaned.
"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.
I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.
"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.
"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.
He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"
I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.
His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.
"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.
"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.
"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.
I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.
"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.
"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.
"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.
But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.
His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.
"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.
"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."
The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.
"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.
He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.
I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.
"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.
"Yeah I've...I've never-"
"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.
"Nope..."
He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.
"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.
I bit my lip and shook my head.
"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.
He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.
"What d'you want?" He asked.
"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.
He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.
He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.
He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"
I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.
"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.
I moaned at his words and nodded.
"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.
"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.
"Good girl." He praised.
We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.
"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.
"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.
"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"
I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.
I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.
"That's it, good girl." He praised.
I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.
"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.
The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.
I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.
"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.
His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.
I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.
"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.
I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
"Such a good girl."
But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.
"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.
"Ready?" He asked.
I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.
"Hey, look at me." He said.
I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.
"Breathe in," He instructed.
I did as he said.
"And out."
As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.
I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.
"You okay?" He asked caringly.
I nodded, biting my lip.
"You can move."
He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.
"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.
I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.
"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.
"Does that feel good?" He asked.
I hummed, "Faster, please."
He smirked, "As you wish."
His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.
"So fucking good," I gasped.
He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.
"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.
He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.
"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.
"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.
"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.
I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.
"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.
"Look at me when you cum, love."
I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.
"I said-"
I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.
"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.
I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.
"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.
I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.
My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.
"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.
"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.
"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.
"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"
I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.
He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.
We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.
After a minute or two, he turned to face me.
"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.
"It was." I smiled back.
He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.
But that bliss was broken quickly.
"Hello?! We're home!"
I gasped, shooting up on my bed.
"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.
"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.
He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.
I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.
"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.
He swung a leg out but then hesitated.
"Oh and uh-"
He held his hand out.
"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.
I smiled, shaking his hand.
"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."
"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.
Nice to meet you indeed.
-
A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!
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twistedmusings · 8 months ago
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How the dorm leaders react when they catch you kissing someone from their dorm [Part 1]
A/N: I jump from fluff to lemon/lime stuff like I am doing parkour. I don’t really know where this idea came from, all I know is that I really really want some jealous boys to demand attention from MC if their attention was somewhere else.
While also not playing MC in a total pure ‘oh my gosh no one has touched me ever’ sort of light, am I making any sense?
I don’t even know what to say anymore, again, take me to horny jail TWST fandom.
Warnings: Lime soda with hints of heavy smooching. Part 2 here!
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-”OFF WITH YOUR HEAD.”
-Riddle knew that he had promised to be a bit more lenient on everybody else. The mere action was paying off immensely too, everybody had been actively following the rules out of their own accord and Heartslabyul had entered a sort of peaceful time. And Riddle had let his guard down as well, deciding to enjoy his college life a bit more fully.
-So it is nothing but a shock to him when he finds one of the second year students pressing you against the tall shrubs that make up the rose garden maze, lips locked onto yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. He had just come to check on the work the first years did on the roses, and yet--!
-His reaction is immediate, the collar latching onto the student’s neck as he pushes you away from him. You blink for a moment before feeling a hand grabbing your wrist, pulling you away from your rendezvous partner and behind the person who had interrupted your little session. That person being Riddle Rosehearts.
-The student receives what has to be Riddle’s quickest lecture before being sent off to find and fix whatever mistake the first years had done with the roses, telling him that after he finishes that and writes him a 500 word essay on why it is not good to FRATERNIZE IN THE ROSE MAZE would he take the collar off.
-You think that you would be sent with the exact same warning but Riddle turns to you, his face still red but the hint of something else in his eyes as he takes a deep breath and starts asking you a bunch of questions about you and your ‘partner’.
-You don’t really answer all of them, it isn’t his business after all but the last question he asks catches you off guard. He asks if you were dating him, eyes giving you a sad puppy eyed look. Riddle had never really looked at you like that before, choosing instead to show you the side of him that he deemed the most worthy of his title and your attention. And you have a soft spot for him so you can’t help but answer.
“It’s just a stress reliever! He helps me out in class too and we both agreed this was going to be super casual so--”
-Riddle stops you right there, effectively kabedon-ing you against the tall walls as he presses his lips against yours rather roughly. It wasn’t one of the best kisses you ever had but the feeling behind it was definitely coming through loud and clear. You press your hands against his chest as he pulls back, only to press another kiss against your lips to show how ready he was to give you more.
-Stress reliever. You said stress reliever. So it was just like drinking tea or playing croquet. An activity you could do with anybody. So he just had to prove he was the most efficient at relieving your stress, correct? Then you wouldn’t think about going to anybody else. He pulls away with a red face while he clears his throat.
“I will not have a Heartslabyul student distracted by another dorm head’s problems. This should be handled by me and me alone. Come along, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to relieve stress properly with my help.”
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-”What the hell do you think you are doing?”
-Savannaclaw was a family. Yes some of the members argued with each other and tended to get into rather violent fights due to their animal instincts taking over a lot quicker than their need to keep the peace.  Yet by the end of the day they were a pack, a family, and Leona wouldn’t have it any other way.
-Which is why he didn’t expect to see someone in his dorm family talking to his herbivore. He was just walking by the Savannaclaw lounge, trying to find one of the necklaces he had left behind during his afternoon nap when his ears twitched after hearing a soft thud. He looks around to see one of the second years press another student against the large rocks. Already thinking he had to break up a fight, his eyes widen when the Savannaclaw student pulls back to reveal Night Raven’s very own magic-less prefect, a string of saliva breaking as you made eye contact with the dorm leader.
-His instincts take over immediately, the Savannaclaw student yelping when his shoulder is grabbed and he is pulled away from you. He was about to make a big deal about who had interrupted his fun time but his tail immediately went between his legs as Leona looked back and glared at him. You barely have time to speak up for your partner as the dorm leader turns to you and hoists you over his shoulder, one hand clearly on your ass as the other goes back into his pocket.
-Oh how nostalgic, you are in his room. He sets you down on the floor and immediately pushes you on his bed, his eyes shining even brighter in the dark room as he tilts your chin so you are staring into the angry emerald eyes with no distractions.
-Boi’s angry and you have no way to defend yourself aside from using your words. So you try to at least speak your truth before he starts complaining and then promptly kicks you out.
“You didn’t have to be so mean to them.We weren’t even doing anything inappropriate. I met them during the magishift tournament and we hit it off. They mentioned how they were stressed and I told them I was stressed so in order to sort of relax and unwind we started--”
-The words are taken out of your mouth as Leona dives in, claiming your lips and pressing you even deeper into the bed. His kiss is heavy and almost forceful, his tongue parting your lips while his hands grabbed your arms and coaxed you into wrapping them around his neck. Your hands were digging into his hair to pull him even closer, a whine escaping your lips when he pulled back and looked at the mess he was currently turning you into.
-You really were nothing more than a clueless herbivore, were you? In his mind, Leona had already claimed you as his and you had the nerve to go against that claim by stating you were seeking out a stress reliever? He had shown you, well more like dragged you, to all of the best nap spots in Night Raven College and you were stressed out enough to seek someone else?
“Stress? That is the lame excuse you are going to give me? Fine, I’ll just have to get rid of all that stress for you, right? Good. You are not leaving Savannaclaw until I make sure you are nice and relaxed.``
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-”Please excuse me...”
-Azul knew how much atmosphere could liven up a place. If he wanted a restaurant for rowdy people then he would have bright lights and wide spaces. Yet that was not the kind of clientele he wanted in the Monstro Lounge. Instead he opted for customers who were quiet, reserved and well-behaved. Which is why there was so much mood lightning in an almost dark lounge. It gave everyone a sense of privacy, something they might not have in their dorms. Give them something they can’t have anywhere else and they’ll come flocking to you, that was just one of his many strategies.
-With that came the proper music, proper food and even proper clothing. Everyone in the Monstro Lounge dressed elegantly, all to Azul’s standards. Ties all set in Windsor knots, shoes polished to a perfect shine, and hats set atop their heads that just beamed with class. He kept tabs on every single one of his servers this way...which is probably why he was surveying with careful eyes each and every table of the lounge as he sought out one of the missing pieces of the puzzle.
-An Octavinelle first year server he had sent to take your order. He was a part time hire while Azul found someone a bit more competent to fill his shoes or unless he proved himself worthy to keep. The latter option was becoming more and more unrealistic as Azul approached what he believed to be your table. Might as well teach the guy some basics about how business was supposed to be run. He grabs a flashlight from his pocket and shines it on the table…
-Only to nearly drop it when he sees the scene in front of him. His eyes first focused on the hand that was on your thigh, slowly making its way upwards yet stopped by the rude interruption. Your hands, meanwhile, seemed to be cupping the server’s face as if to pull him closer while the hat Azul was so proud of designing laid forgotten in the booth that you had decided to share with someone from the Monstro Lounge staff.
-Appearance was everything, Azul had to keep repeating that in his head as he held back from yelling at the top of his lungs. Instead, he snaps his fingers and calls over Jade and Floyd, smiling at both of you before reciting one of the rules of the Monstro Lounge handbook. How fraternizing with customers was a big no no or else termination of said employee would be immediate--yet he is stopped by you standing up and saying that it wasn’t the server’s fault and the blame should fall on you.
-Without knowing it, or even planning it, Azul just got you where he wanted you. Jade and Floyd approached the table but were stopped by Azul’s hand, the dorm leader now holding it out for you to take as he looked over at your partner. The poor unfortunate soul is left with dish washing duty and food prep for a whole month while you were led away to one of the VIP rooms in the Monstro Lounge.
-You barely could make out the new decor of the rooms as Azul closed the door behind him and grabbed your wrist, demanding to know why you had just distracted someone in his staff with such provocative actions. Being the rebellious little thing he knows you are, you tell him that it is none of his business. So he approaches this from another angle.
-Tell him or your little rendezvous partner would be losing his job.
"You're really cruel sometimes, you know that? Fine. I was the one that started it. Me and him know each other from PE and he mentioned how he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. I told him that if he managed to survive a week under your 'bossmanship' I would help him unwind. So…"
-You move your hands as if somehow that would explain the situation better but Azul is still staring at you with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. You were really bad at coming up with excuses, weren't you Prefect?  He sighs and takes off his glasses, cleaning them while walking towards you.
"I have had to deal with making a new menu for this month, make sure Floyd is working his shift hours and not running off somewhere. Since Jade started his own club I've had to take on more responsibilities and there have been a number of contract breakers I've had to hunt down myself because of the said lack of help. In every sense of the word I am overwhelmed. And then you come and do this--"
-He backs you against a table, you plopping down on the top as he slams his hands down on either side of you.
"But an opportunity has presented itself so that you may redeem yourself, [Y/N]...I think I have an idea on how to make this situation beneficial for both him and me~"
-The deal is simple and you have no room for argument. Your first year friend would get to keep his job just as long as you came over to the Monstro Lounge every time Azul needed your help to unwind.
-How did you help him unwind? Easy. He reserved the back table in the Monstro Lounge just for you and him, taking advantage of the low lighting and hushed conversations to pull you into his lap as he kissed you silly. He would mutter all of his worries into your lips, as if letting them disappear each time you both pulled back for air. His hands would greedily grab onto your thighs, squeezing down when he felt like your attention was somewhere else and sucking on your tongue to bring you right back to him.
"I need one last dessert for the menu then you need to come with me to chase down Floyd --haha, your lips are so red, [Y/N]~ Don't pull away, I'm not done with you yet."
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-”Oh...”
-Scarabia parties were the talk of Night Raven College. Amazing food, delicious food and wonderful music that could keep you dancing all night long. Kalim was proud that he was able to host such parties and even if they got a little wild he would still go to bed happy knowing that everybody had a good time.
-Reason he was looking for you, actually. You had mentioned how your week had been nothing but exams, homework and responsibilities given to you by the Headmaster and that you wanted nothing more than to relax and party the night away. All Kalim needed was to hear the word ‘exams’ and he was already planning how to celebrate you finishing them, despite whatever grade you got. His footsteps were loud as he walked in the dark corridor, his own heart beating fast and hard as each step helped him work up the courage to ask you on a magic carpet ride with him when the party finished.
-He hears a giggle, his ears immediately picking up on its timbre and deciphering it as yours. Your giggle was one that never failed to get him laughing as well so he had it well memorized to an extent he could pick it out of a crowd. Kalim quickened his pace and called out your name only for the syllables to die in his tongue as he sees your silhouette against one of the intricately shaped windows.
-You and someone else, bodies pressed close together while a hand greedily grabbed a hold of your hair and pulled--
“[Y/N]?”  
-You and the other Scarabia student pull away as Kalim blinks at you both, the student apologizing for scampering away from the party and not getting what Jamil had asked for him to get from the kitchen. The dorm leader remains silent as the Scarabia student turns to you and smiles, giving your hand a quick kiss and running off to complete his unfinished chore. With a sigh and a laugh, you turn to Kalim as the other keeps trying to process what he just saw.
“So how’s the party?” “...”
“Kalim?”
“Are you two dating?”
-The smile on his face is forced, as if pushing himself to be happy about this sudden news. He had hoped he would have a bit more time, maybe try to get to know you a bit more before finding his courage and asking you to be, well, his. His special person. Yet it seemed that he had been too late. You, however, looked happy and he wasn’t about to try and take that away from you! Kalim started listing off everything he knew about that student and how they would make a fine significant other! You and them looked very cute too! He was close to calling the student back only to be stopped by your hand on his arm.
“Kalim. Breathe.”
-He does as he is told, giving you a chance to speak.
“To answer your question, no we are not dating. In fact, I only met them today. They said they needed help getting some dishes from the kitchen so I decided to pitch in. We just stopped here on our way to the kitchen before they asked to kiss me. And, you know, since it’s a party I decided ‘why not.’ Good way to ring in the end of my exam week, huh?”
-Kalim barely hears what you said, still relieved from hearing that you and that student weren’t dating. You two had just kissed. Not necessarily what he wanted to hear but it meant that he still had a chance! If that student had just asked then he could do the same! He grabs your wrist when he notices you going back to the party hall, doing his best to remember all those romance novels his mother used to read and pulling you hard enough so that you would be pressed close to him while he stared into your eyes. What he imagined to be a loving gaze instead looked like a child begging to ask a question he didn’t know would be taken seriously. At least in your eyes.
“Can I do the same, then?”
-You barely have a chance to ask what he meant as he let his fingers cup the back of your head and tilt you at the perfect angle so that his lips would press against yours. The kiss is so soft, softer than any you’ve ever had. Kalim didn’t move his lips, instead opting to pull away slowly to gauge your reaction. So imagine his surprise when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him just as close, your tongue pressing gently against his lips before pushing inside and showing him the kind of kiss that you knew would make all the muscles on your body go lax and take your mind far away from anything that had to do with school or this strange world you still found yourself in.
-Pulling back, Kalim giggles as he rests his forehead against yours and sways you side to side to a song only he can hear. He had done it! Rather, you had just kissed the daylights out of him but he had started it first! You both look at each other one more time before giggling like idiots as he presses another kiss to your lips.
“Come with me?”
-It was a cold night for a carpet ride but you two made it work out all the same, both of you wrapped together in a blanket as Kalim kissed your lips every time you leaned against him and heard him speak about his favourite spots in Scarabia.
“It’s getting so cold up here...I have an idea! Can you kiss me like you did before? For some reason my whole body heated up and--we have to land? Why? What do you mean it will get heavy?”
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littlepadika · 4 months ago
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Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader
Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...
Rating: M -> E in later chapters
Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩
Masterlist here
AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.
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Chapter One
~~~~~~~~~~~
The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.
“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”
You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.
Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.
You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.
You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”
“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”
“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”
“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”
“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.
"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.
"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."
"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.
“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”
“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.
“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.
The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.
“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.
“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”
“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”
“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.
“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”
“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.
Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.
“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.
“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.
You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.
“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”
“That’s right.” He confirmed.
“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.
“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”
“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.
“Did you like it? The country I mean.”
“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.
“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.
“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”
“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.
“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”
“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.
“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.
“Wow. Muy impressivo.”
“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”
Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.
“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.
“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.
“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.
“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.
“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”
“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.
“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.
“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.
“Frankie” He corrects you.
“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”
“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”
You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.
Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.
“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.
“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."
Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.
“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”
“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.
“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.
“Bye”
This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.
Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!
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brattyfics · 5 months ago
Text
Say So
Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader
Summary: Rio’s feelings for one of his associates becomes clear. Loosely based on “Say So” by Doja Cat. This is a part of the Hot Pink Series.
Word Count: 4.1K
Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty
A/N: I’m neither a money launderer nor a business owner, so the crime aspect may be lacking a bit. I did a good bit of research on Colombian culture for this, but please let me know if you see anything you think is inaccurate. I wanted to keep my word and post this. I’ve edited it but there may still be small mistakes. Forgive me!
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Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment I'd let you had I known it, why don't you say so? Didn't even notice, no punches left to roll with You got to keep me focused, you want it, say so
Rio had been called a lot of things in his lifetime. Brilliant. Clever. Smug. But he had never ever been called shy. He was nothing if not self-assured, so why was it so hard to tell you how he felt?
The two of you worked together. Well, technically he was the boss and you worked for him, but your relationship was one built on mutual respect.
You managed one of Rio’s money-washing businesses, a cute little bakery called ‘Mad Batter’ on the outskirts of Detroit. Along with washing the fake money, you ran the bakery in every sense. You were the marketing team, recipe researcher, part-time baker, and the professional taste taster all-in-one. A model employee really.
There wasn’t much of a reason for you and Rio to have contact, especially because your store was out of the way for him, but he almost never missed a drop. You were sure he had more important things to do with his time but you never questioned it. Maybe he was hands on with all aspects of his business.
Still, it was a shock to see him turn up on Wonderland Day. Admittedly, you had gone a little crazy with the whole thing, the store’s interior decorated in a ‘Alice in Wonderland’ theme. Green tarp decorated the entrance way, acting as a runway of sorts. Bright pastel teacups hung from the ceiling, overpriced fake greenery from your local art supply store stuck to the wall with temporary double sided tape. Custom made floral arrangements decorated your countertop, and tiny little trinkets were spaced out inside the viewing station. You even ordered a black and white checkerboard backdrop for customers to take pictures in front of along with a bunch of cute props — a super detailed studded top hat and a vintage Victorian style chaise you purchased at the antique shop down the street.
You couldn’t use Alice’s likeness because of potential copyright issues, but you decorated the Wonderland cupcakes with cute little mushrooms, clocks, hearts, and teapots. The customers seemed to appreciate it. Children seemed to change their mind at least five times before their parents got frustrated and chose for them. On the way out, families made sure to stop for a photo. Business was booming and you couldn’t be happier. More customers meant more cash being washed.
You assumed Rio was just as happy to see the bakery doing so well. While you stood with your eyebrow quirked, he eyed the place up and down, nodding his head in appreciation at the effort you put into your job. For once he was without his shadow — Mick, who was all beard and face tats. You continued to arrange things behind the register while your employee, Marie, rang up customers as if you didn’t see him.
As far as anyone was concerned, Rio was just a regular customer. ‘Mad Batter’ was yours in name, even though Rio provided the capital. You had split profits 60/40 (your way because you assumed most of the risk) for almost a year. In that year, he’d never shown up at the shop during business hours.
As he made his way over to you, you sent Marie to the back, tasking her with sweeping. It was something to keep her busy while you talked to Rio.
“I’ll yell for you if I need you.” You told her with a smile. She seemed surprised, but left without question. You made a mental note to give her a raise in the next quarter. Good help was hard to find.
“What I gotta do to get some service around here?”
Rio wore his signature smirk and all black ensemble, his arms folded behind his back while he eyed the treats in the viewing case.
You rolled your eyes but played along.
“You got green?” His eyes darted from delicious sweets to you, something playful in them. You felt your blood heat up beneath your skin. Rio was always professional, but it didn’t stop your mind from wandering places it probably shouldn’t.
He laughed under his breath. “You already know, mama.”
What would it be like to play with a man like him? Something told you, you’d struggle to come out on top but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t make it easy for him.
“Then whatever you want is yours.” The words sounded more seductive than you intended. Polite. Professional. You reminded yourself. But the double entendre was not lost on him if the smirk on his face was to be trusted. You were mortified by the thought of him taking you seriously so you tried to play it off. Shaking your head, you giggled.
“That sounded wrong. Anything you want on the menu is yours.” You pointed to the chalkboard behind you, each item and price written neatly in pretty pastel chalk.
Rio studied your face for several moments. It unnerved you, but you held strong. He broke first, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah. I’m always in the mood for something sweet.” You quirked a brow, but let it slide. Your slip-up earlier had your mind in the gutter.
“The Wonderland cupcakes are 2 for $6. $4 for one. Then of course we have our regular menu items. What do you have a taste for?” Something not on the menu.
He didn’t even bother to glance at the menu, all of his attention on you. “What’s your favorite?”
You twiddled your fingers where he couldn’t see. “Umm, I’d probably go with the birthday cupcake. It’s a classic. Can’t go wrong with classic.”
“But is it your favorite?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the high countertop.
You blinked at the closeness. “Huh?”
“I wanna know your favorite. I look like the kinda dude that wants basic? Nah, mama, I need something better than that.”
O--kay then...
“Banana pudding. That’s my favorite at the moment. The vanilla cake base is hallowed at the center and injected with the pudding. It’s topped with a cream cheese icing and crushed Vanilla Wafers. How does that sound?” You had simply told him your favorite but he looked at you as if you had given him the answer to some question he had been longing to know for a long time.
“That’s perfect. I’ll take two of those and uh, a Wonderland cupcake for my baby boy. Better yet, give me two of those. You know I’m a sucker for a deal.” You were shocked at the revelation but tried not to let it show. Rio was usually careful to not share information with associates, but you were different. He wanted you to get to know him more intimately and vice versa.
With a nod and the perfect smile for customer service, you got to work on his order. It took a moment, but you slipped on a pair of gloves and folded up the recyclable cardboard cupcake case before gently placing them inside. The clear sticker with your logo was the final touch to the pack before you gently placed the case inside a bag. You quickly rung up his items.
“$20.08.”
He pulled his card out, but didn’t insert it in the card reader. “I don’t get an employee discount?”
“You’re not an employee.”
“A case can be made—“ You cut him off. “No.”
It was a good old-fashion stare off between the two of you at the register. You being Diddy and him being the American Idol contestant.
“Okay, respect. I’m not an employee but don’t I at least get a family/friends discount?”
“No.”
“Surely, I classify for that.”
“Swipe your card or move.”
“You drive a hard bargain, mama.”
You tried not to swoon at the nickname. “What can I say? I’m a business woman.”
“That you are.” He said with a thoughtful look you couldn’t place before swiping his card. His fingers brushed yours when you handed him the goodie bag, a chill running through you. Instead of leaving like a normal person, he said something that shocked you.
“Come take a ride with me.”
“What?”
“You got someone to cover you?”
As if on cue, Marie poked her head out from the back. She wanted to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed with customers.
“Looks like you do.”
“Oh, no. She’s—“
Rio ignores the poor attempt at an excuse. “What's your name?” He asked Marie, beckoning her closer with two fingers. She answered and he committed it to memory. “Marie. Can you do me a favor, darlin’?” You watched your poor employee be hypnotized by the handsome man in front of you. Rio had a magnetic energy that drew people to him and even you weren’t immune.
“You think you can close up for boss lady here?” She didn’t even look to you for guidance before answering. “Of course.” You gave her a look until she realized her mistake. “I mean, yes, if it’s okay with her.”
He titled his head towards you. It was almost a dare but there didn’t seem to be any malicious intent behind it. “Well?”
You studied him while you considered your answer. He had just strolled into your shop on a busy day expecting you to just up and leave? And do what with him? He had never abused the power dynamic between the two of you, never even hinted at it. You knew he would accept ‘no’ if it was your answer, but curiosity got the best of you.
There was a pun to be made about curiosity and the cat considering your vagina made half the decision for you. How could you say no when he was standing there all princely with that hopeful, expectant look on his face?
You had never seen him so light. Rio went out of his way to make you comfortable around him, but his jaw was always tense, his head on a swivel. It was the nature of the business but you found you liked the relaxed version of him.
“I would really appreciate that, Marie. Thank you. I just have to get my purse.” You directed the last part at Rio. You felt the heat of his gaze on your back as you went. You made quick work of gathering your things, excitement bubbling in your stomach.
You rolled your eyes at the new pair of best friends. Rio was laying on the charm thick, complimenting Marie on her customer service skills and she was eating it up. You had to call her name to get her attention. “Luke will be here for another two hours. Shawn will be here soon and he’ll help you close up. Things should slow down but call me if you need to...” Rio reminded you of his presence with a hand on the small of your back. “Thank you so much.” You told her sincerely.
“Alright, come on. She’s got it, ma.”
You let him guide you outside to his blacked out G-Wagon. You let out a whistle as he opened the door for you, admiring the interior.
“You like?”
“Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Thank you.”
You watched him walk across the front of the car, taking in his lean physique. Being in such close proximity with him, was making you notice things you hadn’t allowed yourself to before.
With a push of a button, the truck purred to life.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just wondering where we're going.”
He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t offer an answer.
You racked your brain for an explanation. Business was good as usual. You hadn’t made any mistakes to land you on his bad side. You trusted him but you had to remind yourself there were no real friends in business.
He sensed your uneasiness. “Relax, mama. You’re good. I know I’m carrying precious cargo.” His tone made you instinctively relax. You sunk into your seat as he drove you into the city, closer towards traffic and large droves of people.
Confusion was still written all over your face when he pulled into a parking lot at the back of a large strip of buildings. “Let’s take a walk.”
He offered you his hand, holding the ‘Mad Batter’ bag in the other. Your heart thumped in your chest, but you took it. He laced your fingers together, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb. You looked at him but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Butterflies danced in your stomach, thinking that you probably looked like a couple.
The street was lined with flourishing businesses— a busy coffee shop, a huge book store, a bright floral shop. You could see everything through the tall glass windows, the sides of them lined in beautiful red brick. They were just the type of building you sometimes imagined moving into. The bakery started as a money-making venture, but you had fallen in love with it.
Rio stopped you in front of a vacant shop. Even from the outside you could tell the place had potential. Did Rio want your opinion on his next venture?
The wonder showed on your face as you took in the open space. It was big enough that your footsteps echoed. The walls were painted in a neutral brown-grey color complimented by soft maple wood floors. The back splash behind the large counter was a beautiful pale mint tile. You mentally envisioned everything you could do with the space even though it wasn’t yours.
Towards the back of the large space, there was a circular table with a white table cloth and place settings. In the center there was a clear vase with a beautiful arrangement of short-stemmed, deep red roses. Subconsciously, your feet moved you closer to the gorgeous set-up.
You turned to Rio and found him staring.
“What’s this?”
He kept his tone light, casual. “Even the boss needs a day off, right?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Sit down.” His tone left no room for argument, but you cocked your hip anyway. Who did he think he was telling you what to do? Your boss? Oh, yeah.
You accepted the chair he pulled out for you, looking around as you settled into the cushioned seat.
“I take days off.” You said, needing some sort of victory.
Rio didn’t look convinced.
“How would you even know?”
He shrugged. “I know things.”
“I don’t doubt it, boss man.” You mocked him. “You’re the one who needs a day off.”
His almost-permanent unreadable mask cracked and you could tell you hit the nail on the head.
“Yea’, you probably right.”
You gasped dramatically. “What? Are you admitting to your faults? Not boss man.”
“Shut up.” He tells you with a boyish grin, no bite to his words.
“Seriously, though? What’s up?” Rio was always sly smiles and slick jokes, never one to shy away from anything, but he was avoiding answering your questions.
“I got a couple of things to discuss with you.”
“Okay…” The anticipation made you nervous.
“But first, let’s eat.”  You made a face when Rio called out for someone.
“Who the hell is that?” You whispered when a man came from the back, carrying a tray of food. “Where did you come from, man?” You joked, eyes wide when he stopped at the table. Rio explained that he was the chef and that the kitchen was sound-proof. “Hmm, nice.” A feature like that would be nice in your shop. You were forced to bake early in the mornings or after closing to not disturb customers. People liked the calm vibe of your place, the mixer sounding off like a jackhammer would kill that.
“It smells delicious.” You cooed, easily enticed by food being set down in front of you.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I had a couple things made.” You felt special. “I eat everything and I love trying new foods!” You were unfamiliar with most of the dishes, but you were excited to try them. “Can you tell me what everything is?”
“Yeah.” Rio watched the way your face light up, admiring how open minded you were. “So these are empanadas. They have a corn masa crust. The inside is filled with ground pork and beef, diced potatoes, and some veggies. Stuff like onions and peppers. This is probably the safest option. I never met anyone that didn’t like empanadas.”
You picked up one of the semicircle shaped dumplings, chewing with fervor. “It’s so good.” You told him between bites. “I think I’ve had these before, actually.”
He nodded with a smile. “You like spice?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Here, try it with the ají. It’s like pico de gallo.” You took the spoon from him, adding a generous amount to what was left of the patty. “Give it a squeeze of lime.”
“So good.”
He handed you a hand towel for your sticky hand.
“Thank you.” He loved your politeness. Such a sweet girl. “Oh! This next.” You pointed to the large plate stacked with a variety of things. And, you were back to being the boss. He loved that too.
“Picada o Fritanga.” You repeated after him until you got the pronunciation right.
“This is one of many dishes that everybody kinda just freestyles. Traditionally there’s always some form of pork whether it’s pork belly or pork rib, sometimes chorizo. My ma always used pork belly so that’s what we have here. These are plantains, more potatoes and yuca.” You tried them one by one, taking in each new item.
He found he liked to watch you eat. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. You made little sounds of pleasure as you tasted everything and then dazzled him with that gorgeous smile.
“What do you think?”
“The meat is really good. Tender. The potatoes are seasoned perfectly. Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of plantains, but these are pretty good. The yuca surprised me. It’s really thick but I like it.”
“You ready to try this?” He gestured to the dish you were most hesitant about. It was a yellow-orange soup.
“Cazuela de Mariscos. Seafood stew. The base is coconut milk but there’s a lot of spices as well. Mussels, shrimp, scallops.” You loved seafood but you were used to eating it differently. In a crab boil, in pasta, sometimes fried.
He sensed your hesitance and decided to help you out. He picked up a spoon, dipping it into the liquid before lifting it to your mouth, his other hand underneath in case it spilled.
You wrapped your lips around the spoon, trying to prevent unladylike slurping. He certainly appreciated the view, his pants tightening.
“Well?”
“I like it.” You lied.
He laughed in your face. So much for lying.
“Here, let’s get you something to wash it down with, darlin’.” He reached across the table to pull a bottle from the stainless steel ice tub. “Do you want wine or something else?”
“Wine is perfect.”
It probably wasn’t the most professional move, but you had already crossed that line. A glass wouldn’t hurt. Besides, his intentions became clearer to you as the night progressed.
In between sips and bites of food, the two of you became even more familiar with each other.
“Everything is soooo good. If you keep feeding me like this…” You caught yourself. The wine is making your tongue loose.
Rio couldn’t help but think of the nickname his guys had given you. Behind your back (and his for a while) they called you ‘Lola Bunny’. He was annoyed when he realized they were lusting over you, but now the thought was stuck in his mind. You had big, expressive eyes. Long, seductive lashes. When you caught him off guard with those pretty brown eyes, he felt like prey. In that moment, he had to work to not be sucked into the whirlpool of your eyes.
He talked to distract himself, leaning back in his chair. “My ma used to butcher this quote by Chavez. It goes something like ‘giving someone food is like giving them a piece of yourself’.” The actual quote went “the people who give you their food, give you their heart” but he didn’t think that was the best thing to say to you on what was essentially your first date. “This…” He gestured to the food on the table. “...is a part of me, and these…” He pulled the bag with the cupcakes closer. “...are a part of you.”
You were too tipsy to stop the sigh that escaped. If you could melt into a puddle at his feet, you would. You made Disney eyes at him as he plated the cupcakes for the both of you. Rio was smooth. Too smooth.
With your inhibitions lowered, you asked him the questions you always wanted to. “What’s your name? Rio’s way too cool to be your actual name.”
He chuckled. “You’re right, it’s Christopher.”
“Christopher…?” You carefully peeled away the cupcake liner.
“Castillo.”
Your head popped up. “That’s fitting, actually.” Castillo meaning castle. Rio was tall, strong, well-built, fortified like a castle. “I had a Spanish teacher in middle school that made us pick Spanish names out of a textbook. It was her way of immersing us and it actually worked. We took the time to look up each other’s names and I remember Castillo because I chose that one.”
He bit his lip to hide his smile. “How come?”
You suddenly felt shy, fiddling with your fingers. “I don’t know. Probably because I was a diva at the time, that definitely thought she deserved a castle.”
He wore a wistful look. He said nothing, but it gave away everything.
“What about this?” You pointed at Rio’s neck.
“El Águila. The eagle. It’s the town my mother’s from in Colombia.”
“Can I touch?”
He extended his neck in answer.
Your fingertips gently traced the outline of the mighty bird. People looked at his tattoo and wrote him off, but up close you could see every stunning detail. It wasn’t some random, thoughtless thing. It was an expression of himself. He looked down at you through his long lashes and you forced yourself to retreat, realizing just how intimate it was. Your hand dropped to your lap and he took a hold of it. You let out a harsh breath.
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah…”
“Good.”
“You said we. How many siblings do you have?”
“I have two sisters. One older, Gabby, and Ana is younger. We’re all two years apart.”
“So you’re the middle child, then. That explains a lot actually.”
“What does it explain, actually?” He asked playfully.
“I don’t know, just the way you are. You seem a little bit like the loner type— but not in a weird way. Mick is with you all the time, but you don’t have a lot of guys around. You’re independent, you’re a boss. You seem content doing things on your own.”
“Hmm..and you?” He was glad to know he wasn’t the only one infatuated. “Brothers? Sisters?”
“Only child.” He barked out a laugh before using your own words against you. You pouted, embarrassed that it was so obvious.
He lifted your chin, preventing your attempt to hide from him. “Don’t even worry, ma. I happen to like the ‘only child type’.
“I doubt it. ‘Only child’ is code for brat.”
“I like brats too.”
You swallowed hard at the intense look in his eyes. His hands found their way to your bottom of your thighs, rubbing in hypnotizing circles. You were putty in his hands. Rio looked like he wanted to eat you up. The wine had you tingling down below and overheating everywhere else. It was all too much and not enough at the same time. You shook your head, trying to focus. “You said you wanted to discuss some things.”
He sobered up, putting his Rio mask on, but kept a firm grip on your hand, finally broaching the topics he had been avoiding. He explained that he was going to flip his game, meaning no more fake cash to wash.
Your heart dropped into your stomach. “What does that mean for me?”
“You have options.”
“Like what?”
“Well, this place is for sale.”
You looked around the large space. “It’s nice but I’m not sure I could afford it. It’s like three times the size of the other place and probably five times as expensive. Plus, you just said no more fake cash.”
“It’ll be yours if you want it.” He said it as if it was the simplest thing ever. For him, it was. Whatever you wanted and he could provide, he would.
“It’s in a prime location. With your talents and ambition, you’ll make five times what you make at the other place. Easy. And more importantly, legally.”
“Since when do you care about legal?”
“I don’t. But I do care about you.”
That shut you up.
“This life...it’s not sustainable. Even for me. I’m slowly, but surely making my exit plan.”
You felt overwhelmed, unsure of what your next move would be. It was a generous offer from Rio, but you weren’t comfortable accepting a gift like that. On the other hand, what would you do without it? ‘Mad Batter’ had gained more traction, but it had already been tainted. As long as you stayed there, you risked being found out.
You grabbed a hold of Rio’s shoulders and leaned forward, letting him hold your weight. Your face rested in the crook of his neck while he pulled you up and onto his lap.
You didn’t know how much time you spent like that, you just knew you liked being close.
When you did eventually pull away, you did so with a laugh. “You pulled out all the stops to fire me!” You were hysterical, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. He laughed with you, keeping a firm hold on your vibrating torso.
“Only the best for my girl.”
“Your girl, huh?” He nodded confidently and it turned you on, but you still had to bust his balls. “Oh, okay! Well I’m glad you finally decided to let me know that. I didn’t even notice. Why didn’t you say so?”
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eunoniaa · 4 months ago
heyyy babe!! can we get a one-shot in a modern au where draco and the reader are in college and the reader is a cam girl and draco watches her everytime she goes live? then one morning they’re both in the same coffee shop and he sits at her table and recognizes her voice and asks her if she’s the cam girl and then basically they go to her room and fuck lol. ily have a good day!
Spilled coffee
draco malfoy x fem!reader
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a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, so thanks to the amazing @evermoreeve’s encouragement, i decided to finally share it w you besties. this is for u, eve👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
word count: 1751
warnings: tw // smut | cw // camgirl!reader, modern!au, mentions of sir kink, good girl, sex toys and masturbation (male and female), shitty writing lol
summary: “I see you’ve received my present. What do you say, Poppet?” Draco would observe, signalling to the newest addition to her lingerie collection, the black lace material -his personal favorite- cladding her breasts flawlessly. The girl would blush -although he couldn’t see that- and fumble around, reaching under her bed and pulling out her toy box. “Thank you, Sir. Why don’t you let me show you just how much I appreciate your gesture?”
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It was part of his routine at this point, really.
Every other night Draco would be sitting on his bed, staring at his laptop and eagerly waiting for the notification to come across on the screen that she has gone live. He was a regular to her streams and posts, always interacting with compliments and praises of her content.
At first he would simply tune in on her broadcasts and wait for her to pop up in a nice set of lingerie, all prettied up for his eyes to marvel at. Although on those occasions he wasn’t the only one, per se but he liked to think she was doing it only for his pleasure.
But soon enough, pretending wasn’t enough for the boy. The thought of other men watching her, drooling all over their screens while getting off to whatever wondrous things she was doing to her body, listening to her angelic sounds agitated him to no end.
He wanted her all to himself.
So from then on, Draco made sure of it by donating such tremendous amounts of credits that she had no other choice but to give him a private show and showcase exactly how grateful she was. She didn’t seem to mind, the girl would make sure to please him to the best of her abilities; she would wear all the not-so-concealing sets of lingerie he had purchased off her wishlist for her and tend to every single one of his desires and needs.
She would be there, her tripod perched at the end of her bed, her pretty body on display for him, and this time for him only. “I see you’ve received my present. What d’you say, Poppet?” Draco would observe, signalling to the newest addition to her lingerie collection, the black lace material -his personal favorite- cladding her breasts flawlessly. The girl would blush -although he couldn’t see that- and fumble around, reaching under her bed and pulling out her toy box. “Thank you, Sir. Why don’t you let me show you just how much I appreciate your gesture?”
Draco would only have his microphone on so he could instruct her on what to do to herself next: what to take off, what to put on, what to say, where to touch herself and how to touch herself.
“You’re such a Good Girl, [y/n/n]. Now put something inside, baby. Let me see that pretty pussy stretched out for me.” He would moan, lazily stroking himself with his eyes trained on her sopping wet core, picturing his cock sliding into her heat as her finger does, his groans scarcely suppressed by the depths of his heaving chest.
Draco would envisage how tight and warm her silky walls would feel around him, and his length would twitch in his hand, yearning to be the thing inside of her.
Bliss, he would think upon hearing her seraphic voice as she would ask “Am I doing good for you, Sir?” or when he would watch as her pretty, glistening breasts would rise and fall at a rapid pace, her fingers working furiously at her dripping cunt, “Oh fuck!” she would exclaim -oh how he loved hearing that come out of her mouth- as she reached her high and came all over her hand and silk sheets, making an absolute mess.
All for him.
It was a sunny saturday morning, and [y/n] decided it would be a shame to waste such a nice day trapped between the four walls of her dormitory, so she made the decision to visit her favorite cafe near campus. The place was quite crowded when she arrived, other people seemed to have gotten the same idea, she supposed.
The tinkling of the bell welcomed her as she stepped inside and her hopeful eyes immediately scanned the place for a free table, the taste of having to drink her morning coffee whilst standing up feeling bitter in her mouth.
Her gaze happened to land upon a middle-aged couple gathering their belongings at a booth near the back, and she took that as her cue, immediately taking action and making a beeline there; determined to claim the spot before anyone else did. She hastily sat down just as the couple stood up, receiving a few judgemental glances from them as they left. But [y/n] paid no mind to the pair, she was too busy celebrating her little personal victory.
A couple minutes later she was sipping her well-deserved coffee while peering out the glass window; observing all the people going on about their days, chatting mindlessly and enjoying the good weather. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander, thinking about—
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
She slipped out of her daydream, and upon looking up at the source of the voice she felt as if she had just slipped back into another one.
[y/n] took him all in: his chromatic blue eyes seemed to reel her in, she felt as though she’s been captured by them, his pale complexion excellently contrasted by the perfectly ironed black suit fitted onto his body. One of his hands was leisurely tucked into his suit jacket, the other pointed at the seat opposite of her, his lanky fingers heavy with rings.
“Oh, no, it isn’t. Please,” she beamed up at him, softly gesturing towards the seat with her head.
The blond froze for a second, his eyebrows wrinkling; seemingly deep in thought as he looked her up and down, but took a seat opposite of her nevertheless. “Thank you,” he smiled at her after seemingly disregarding his concerns, “The whole place is stuffed and I wasn’t too keen on sitting with that granny over there,” he joked, gesturing to the old lady sitting a few booths away from them. She lightly chuckled, “It’s my pleasure,” and offered the boy her hand, “[y/n], by the way,”
He enveloped her hand in his pale one, “Draco. Nice to meet you,” she nodded shyly then looked away after retreating her hand, not really knowing what else to say.
“Have I met you before, [y/n]?” he questioned after a few moments of silence, curiously eyeing her. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d remember you.” she smirked, although he did feel familiar to her, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on in what way exactly. The boy didn’t say anything in response, just nodded briefly, but his eyes never left her figure as he pondered.
After couple more moments of agonizingly uncomfortable silence, [y/n] couldn’t help but start to feel small under his gaze, the way he was looking at her so intently, how he observed her every move so carefully made her feel as if she was completely exposed, and even felt her hands tremble in the slightest bit.
Soon enough, her mug slipped out of her clammy fingers; spilling the contents all over the table. Draco watched as the liquid made a trial down the wooden surface, rapidly creeping towards him, a few drops splattering onto his expensive slacks before he could react.
Both of them stood up quickly, and [y/n]’s breath hitched and she slapped her hand over her mouth as she saw the dark, wet patch decorating one of the boy’s thighs.
“Oh- fuck!” she cursed, panicking, and rushed over to him, showering the blond with apologies while frantically gathering tissues to clean him up with.
She started rambling as soon as she saw his stunned expression, all color drained from his already pale face as he glared at her in an exasperated manner “I’m so sorry Draco. Gods, what can I-“ she stopped and looked up at him as the boy suddenly gripped her wrists and pulled her figure closer to him.
“What did you just say?” he closed his eyes, gulping hard.
“I- that… that I’m sorry-?” she asked timidly, utterly confused as to what he was referring to.
“No, I mean before that.”
She thought hard, trying to come up with the right answer that would please him, “Well, uh- do you mean when—?”
“You’re [y/n/n], aren’t you?” he interrupted her impatiently, despite the cool bluish hues of his orbs she could see fire flaming behind them. The girl froze, and looked up at him with wide eyes and a slack mouth, completely stunned.
Humiliation seared through her veins, she wanted the ground to open up beneath her and swallow her whole. [y/n] looked around the cafe, not sure if she heard him right, and breathlessly chuckled in disbelief as all words seemed to escape her tongue.
Draco watched her, visibly amused by her flushed state. “You don’t know who I am, do you, [y/n]?” she shook her head anxiously, that aforementioned daydream quickly twisting into a horrid fever dream.
The boy closed his eyes once again, a dark chuckle reverberating through his chest as he stuck his tongue out; wetting his plush lips.
“Lemme help you out then, Blossom,” he leaned in close, his grip on her wrists still resolute. Heated breath fanned her supple skin in such manner that she felt the hairs on her arms stand up, she closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of his close proximity.
“You’re such a Good Girl, [y/n/n],” her breath hitched, she would’ve slapped her hand over her mouth once again if it wasn’t for his clutch restraining her movements. She let the boy’s words sink in, thinking about all the scenarios when he had said that phrase to her before, feeling the heat between her legs grow, seeping through the lace panties that -coincidentally enough- he had bought for her.
”Sound familiar?” he mumbled, teasing her by ghosting his soft lips down her jugular, leaving a hot trail in his wake. The sexual tension was palpable in the air, their undeniable desire for each other clouding both of their minds, to a point where the only rational thing for them was to get the other one in a room alone.
As soon as possible.
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🏷 @dracoswhore007 @freddiecore @eatmiso @minsuuwu @dracomalfoys-wh0re @wittledraco @dracomalfoyreader @amourtentiaa @slutf0rnia @vivvyinvienna @asthmax @comiocudequemtalendo1 @fjorelaant @dracosbaibe @pens-and-roses @gwlvr @lauren-100 @yumicloudshp @acosmis-t @gxtitobxby @draco-and-tom @rennaisancebaby @glossygranger @cherie-draco @i-write-fics @sweeterthansammy @luvrsrock @desiredmalfoy @malfoys-lover @potionsclasss @seriusblackswhore @xmalfoyweasleyx @dlmmdl @dracospatheticwhore @gaycatlord-stuff @potterheadtwilighter @mrs-hader @90smalfoy @hello-i-love-hp-and-fandom @the-gazette-of-tea @amarabln @spencerfuckingreidswhore @nic0lodean @peculiardelusion @turn-to-page-394-please @aetheralist @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @miraclesoflove @wwandavision @fives-cup-of-coffee @Dracoscumwh0re @keepawaythenargles @black-like-my-soul @Marrymetheonott @fredshufflepuff @sw33tgirl @ronbrokemyheart @peep-lover13 @drachoesimp @dracofknmalfoy @i-love-scott-mccall @miss-starkov
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© eunoniaa 2021, do not modify or repost
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waitimcomingtoo · 9 months ago
hi bestie! xmas request for u <333 could you do one where the avengers clearly know that peter and the reader like eachother, so they (very undiscreetly) place mistletoes literally everywhere in the hq to get the lil babies of the groups to kiss? thank uuuuuuu love u!
Under The Mistletoe
pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Masterlist
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“Good morning everyone.” You greeted the Avengers as you walked in the kitchen one morning.
“Good morning.” Peters eyes followed you as you sat down next to him at the table. “I made you hot chocolate.”
“You did? You’re so sweet.” You took the mug from him and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”
“Well you mentioned last night that you were always freezing in the morning so I thought this would warm you up.” Peter smiled sweetly at you, face flushed from the kiss.
“You’re too good to me. I was gonna put some whip cream on it. Do you want some?” You offered as you went to the refrigerator.
“Sure. Thank you.” Peter nodded as you put some whip cream on his hot chocolate. The rest of the Avengers watched the interaction, exchanging knowing glances every once in a while.
“So, what did you guys do last night?” Natasha asked curiously as she leaned on her hand.
“We went on patrol together and then walked around the city. It was snowing so it was really pretty.” You smiled as you remembered the night before. Natasha and Bruce made eye contact, giving each other a knowing look.
“Didn’t you get cold?” Bruce asked for his own amusement.
“My suit has a built in heater.” Peter told him.
“But Y/n’s suit doesn’t.” Tony added, understanding what was going on.
“Peter had his arm around me so the heat kept us both warm.” You told them as you sipped your mug, making everyone gush.
“Uh huh.” Tony nodded as he watched Peter put his arm around your chair. “So you went for a moonlit stroll through the city. Pretty romantic, don’t you think? Was it a date?”
“What?” Peter sputtered. “No.”
“We’re just friends.” You nodded a few too many times.
“You got some whip cream on your face.” Peter noticed the white dollop on your nose.
“Oh. Oops.” You laughed in embarrassment and went to wipe it off.
“I got it.” Peter wiped your face with his thumb, leaving both of you in a blushing mess.
“Thanks.” You giggled, gazing lovingly into his eyes.
“Right. Just friends.” Rhodey grimaced as he watched the disgusting love fest in front of him.
“So what are you doing today?” Natasha asked, finding the whole situation hysterical.
“We were gonna watch some holiday movies in my room before patrol.” Peter told her.
“Speaking of that, do you want to get started?” You asked him. “We have a lot to get through.”
“Sure. Bye guys.” Peter waved before resting his hand on the small of your back and leading you out of the room. Once you left, the Avengers let out the collective laugh they had been holding in.
“So…they’re in love, right? We can agree on that?” Tony asked as he looked around the room, seeing everyone nod at him.
“I have never seen anyone so whipped.” Rhodey laughed as he sipped his coffee.
“How have they not admitted their feelings?” Nat asked the room. “It’s so obvious.”
“This is worse than me and Nat.” Steve commented.
“Or me and Nat.” Bruce added.
“Or me and Nat.” Tony agreed.
“When are those crazy kids gonna get together?” Steve chuckled as he opened the newspaper.
“This gives me an idea.” Tony narrowed his eyes as he got a familiar devilish glint in his eyes.
“Oh no.” Steve recognized the glint. “This can’t be good.”
“By the end of the holiday season, I want Y/n and Peter to be together.” Tony said decidedly. “This will require a group effort in making it happen. In the weeks leading up to the holidays, I expect each and every one of you to get our dear Peter and Y/n to realize they like each other.”
“How do you expect us to do that?” Nat humored him.
“You will all plant mistletoe somewhere in the building.” Tony grinned wickedly. “The mistletoe that gets the most kisses out of them wins.”
“Wins what?” Bruce asked, just as intrigued as the rest of the team.
“Whatever you want. I don’t know if the giant building with my name on it gave it away, but I have money.” Tony stated. “Lots of it. Or how about this, the winner can pick and design a new room to be added to the tower.”
“I could use a physical therapy room.” Rhodey spoke up. “I don’t know if you guys remember, but my legs don’t work on their own anymore ever since I fell out of the sky.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” Steve realized.
“Yeah. Nobody really talks about that.” Bruce agreed.
“I think we could all benefit from a new training room.” Nat threw in. “The old one has a permanent sweaty man smell.”
“We already have a training room. What we really need is some personal up keeping. Keeping myself this blonde is not cheap. A hair parlor in the building would be nice.” Steve suggested.
“Parlor.” Tony chuckled under his breath.
“I second that.” Bucky piped up.
“Of course you do, Jared Leto.” Tony teased.
“We don’t need a hair salon. What we need is another lab.” Bruce declared.
“Or a ballet studio.” Nat gasped.
“I think we should install an Olive Garden.” Bucky shrugged.
“How about a room full of murals of myself?” Thor smiled. “You can all gaze upon them and push yourself to stop being tiny and small.”
“Or another gym.” Rhodey shrugged.
“Or a wine cellar. But for beer! A beer cellar.” Thor cheered.
“We can discuss the room later.” Tony quieted everyone down. “If you really want these things, get the kids together. You know what you have to do.”
Tony
You and Peter often ate breakfast together in the same spot everyday, and Tony used that information to his advantage. He skillfully hung some mistletoe above your usual seats and patiently waited for your arrival. Soon enough, Tony heard your footsteps coming into the kitchen.
“Hey Petey.” You rubbed Peter’s back before taking a seat next to him. “Hi Mr. Stark.”
“Hey guys.” Tony smiled before looking up and gasping. “Oh golly gee, would ya look at that? Mistletoe! Who put that there?”
“Oh, wow.” Peter said as he looked up to see mistletoe hanging above the two of you. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have looked up if you hadn’t pointed it out.” You said skeptically as you eyed Tony.
“Ha.” Tony forced a laugh. “Well, now you see it. Bye!”
He quickly left the room and hid behind a wall where he could watch his plan unfold.
“That wasn’t at all weird.” You chuckled as you turned in your seat.
“He probably put Red Bull in his protein shake again.” Peter laughed as well, fingers brushing yours a little on the table.
“Yeah.” You nodded, suddenly feeling awkward now that you were both aware of the mistletoe hanging above your heads. You both looked away from each other, red in the face and sneaking occasional glances at the plant.
“I, um, I’ve never actually seen mistletoe in person before.” Peter said to break the silence. “I’ve only heard about it in songs.”
“Me too.” You nodded rapidly. “Or in movies and stuff.”
“Yeah.” Peter gulped. “And stuff.”
You looked at each other for a moment, shy smiles on your faces.
“I mean, since it’s both of our first times getting caught under it, it’d be a shame not to honor the tradition.” You suggested sheepishly as you averted your eyes.
“Right.” Peter said quickly. “It’s tradition. We basically have to.”
“Yeah. It’s practically a right of passage for the holiday season.” You said simply as you leaned closer to Peter.
“Exactly.” Peter agreed, leaning in as well. Your faces were almost touching now, just a few more inches until contact.
“Um.” You let out a nervous laugh before shutting your eyes and leaning in. Peter met you the rest of the way, your lips connecting directly under the mistletoe. You smiled a little into the kiss before pressing your hand to his cheek to keep him in place. Peter pulled away after a minute, gazing fondly in your eyes as he opened them. He’d been waiting to kiss you for the longest time, and it was just as perfect as he imagined.
“Thanks.” Peter said, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment after he said it.
“You’re welcome.” You laughed at him, squeezing his shoulder in admiration.
“I’m glad we could, erm, fulfill the tradition.” Peter laughed at his own awkwardness as he shook his head.
“Me too.” You nodded with a flushed face. “I feel more in the holiday spirit already.”
“Same, same.” Peter trailed off, looking around the room to distract from the awkwardness.
“Can we just pretend that didn’t happen and eat our breakfast?” You requested, looking at him shyly.
“Please.” Peter agreed. “It never happened.”
Rhodey
Bruce was making his way to the lab when he saw Rhodey hiding behind a wall, staring at hanging mistletoe.
“Why are you standing here?” Bruce whispered as he stood behind Rhodey.
“I told Y/n to meet me in the kitchen and I’m sending her a bunch of texts so she keeps her eyes on her phone. I also told Peter to meet me in the theater. They’ll have to go through that doorway where I strategically placed mistletoe. Once they bump into each other, they’ll have to kiss and I’ll get a point.” Rhodey explained his masterplan in a hushed tone.
“Why do you want them to bump into each other? Can’t they just see each other in the doorway?” Bruce whispered back.
“Man, have you ever seen a romantic comedy?” Rhodey sighed. “The girl has to bump into the boy so he knows she’s clumsy and not like other girls.”
“I think you’re getting a little too invested in this. It’s just a room.” Bruce reminded him, beginning to think he was behind on the contest.
“Its not about the room.” Rhodey insisted. “I just want to beat Rogers and his stupid parlor.”
“Shh.” Bruce hushed him. “Here they come.”
Bruce and Rhodey watched as you and Peter smacked into each other in the doorway.
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t looking.” Peter said as he caught you from falling.
“That’s okay. I wasn’t looking either.” You smiled at him, staying in his arms.
“How are you gonna get them to notice the mistletoe?” Bruce whispered.
Rhodey silently took out a large fan and switched it on, sending a breeze towards you and Peter. The breeze made the bells on the mistletoe chime, causing you and Peter to look up.
“Is that mistletoe?” He asked as he pointed to it.
“It looks like it.” You commented. “I guess Mr. Stark decorated the tower.”
“Kinda crazy we got caught under it twice.” Peter chuckled nervously, hoping he’d get the chance to kiss you again.
“I know. But hey, it’s tradition.” You shrugged, also hoping you’d get to kiss him.
“Yeah. Tradition.” Peter was barely listening to himself speak as he stared at your lips. You laughed a little as your arms went around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. It was just as good as the first time, if not better. You pulled away after a moment and sighed against his mouth.
“I, um, I gotta meet Rhodey in the nitchken.” You stumbled over your words.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to see him in the popcorn palace.” Peter spoke, not even knowing what he was saying.
“I’ll see you later, Petey.” You squeezed his arm gently and made your way to the kitchen.
“Bye.” Peter mumbled before going to the theater. Rhodey turned to Bruce with a boastful grin and held a finger to symbolize the point he has just gotten. Bruce swallowed nervously, realizing he had to get on it if he wanted to win.
Bruce
“Banner.” Tony came to Bruce’s side with a suspicious look. “You look awfully devious today.”
“You’re much more likely to walk next to someone than to be caught under a doorway with them. That’s why I put a bouquet of roses and mistletoe on the table between their rooms. Every time they pass it, they’ll have to kiss.” Bruce explained as he turned to Tony with bloodshot eyes. He had been working on the plan all night and it showed.
“You unsuspecting genius.” Tony gasped.
“How is that unsuspected?” Bruce deadpanned. “I’m a certified genius. That’s why I was recruited.
“Yeah? And I’m a certified freak. 7 days a week.” Tony said as he stared at the bouquet of mistletoe. It didn’t take long for you and Peter to come out of your rooms and meet in front of the bouquet.
“Hey, Petey.” You greeted him. “What are you up to?”
“I was gonna grab a snack and then watch Dance Moms compilations.” Peter told you.
“Without me?” You pretended to be offended.
“I was gonna ask you to join.” Peter rolled his eyes sarcastically.
“I’d love to.” You smiled at him. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, is this mistletoe?” Peter realized the bouquet right as you were about to leave.
“Damn, it’s everywhere, huh?” You laughed as you touched the roses, warmed by the color.
“Do we still have to kiss of its not over our heads?” Peter wondered.
“Yes!” Bruce whispered sharply.
“You heard that too right?” Your eyes widened as you looked around for where the voice came from.
“Yeah. I thought it was my conscience.” Peter sighed in relief. Your eyes flickered from the bouquet to Peter, back to the bouquet.
“I mean, we might as well kiss.” You shrugged. “Mistletoe is still mistletoe.”
“You’re right. It would be a waste not to.” Peter nodded eagerly.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You smiled as you pulled him into a kiss. This kiss lasted longer than usual as you both let it linger.
“The plan was smart but you only got one kiss out of it.” Tony whispered to Bruce as you and Peter went to the kitchen.
“Just wait.” Bruce told him. Some enough, you and Peter returned with an armful of snacks.
“Oh, we passed it again.” Peter said robotically, knowing you’d pass it again.
“Oops.” You said sarcastically. “I guess we have to kiss again.”
“Ugh. Every time.” Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled you towards his lips. You gripped his shirt collar and continued kissing him as you pulled him into your room.
“See?” Bruce smirked. “Certified genius.”
Down the hall, Natasha had seen the whole thing, chewing her lips as she came up with a plan.
Natasha
Natasha set her plan in motion a few days later, waiting in the kitchen for you as she stirred a bowl of muffin mix. Peter sat at the counter, reading over one of Bruce’s articles in a book. You came into the kitchen wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that matched Peters, the sight of you making Peter smile.
“Hi Nat.” You beamed at her as you took a seat next to Peter at the kitchen counter. “Whatcha making?”
“I’m making muffins with the berries from mistletoe.” Nat said cheerfully. “They should be really good.”
“You bake?” You asked curiously. “You mean they taught you culinary skills when training you to be an assassin?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. For example, I love ballet. We might even be getting a ballet studio in the tower soon.” She said coyly, making you and Peter exchange a suspicious glance.
“Wow. That’ll be really cool.” Peter played along, skeptically of her intentions.
“Right? Does this look okay to you guys?” Nat asked as she held the mistletoe above your head. “I can’t tell it it’s good to use or not.”
“It looks fine to me.” Peter shrugged as he looked up at it.
“Oh, silly me.” Nat clicked her tongue. “You guys are totally under it. I guess you’ll have to kiss.”
You and Peter exchanged another look before pecking each other on the lips.
“Hmm. I still can’t tell. Can you check again?” Nat asked as she held it up again.
“It still looks fine.” You told her, growing suspicious.
“And you still have to kiss.” She sighed like it was an inconvenience. You narrowed your eyes at her before kissing Peter on the cheek.
“Are you guys sure it’s okay? One more time, please.” Nat held it over your heads a final time. Peter looked at you skeptically before leaning in for a kiss. Both of you were well aware of the sneaky smile on Natashas face.
“Wait, let me see if I can find another one.” Natasha took another bunch of mistletoe out of her grocery bag and pretended to inspect it. She made a whole show of it, making it look like she simply couldn’t find out if it was okay to use. She sighed sadly and looked to you guys for help before holding it up. You and Peter laughed in disbelief before kissing on the lips.
“Wow. Did I accidentally make you guys kiss 4 times?” Nat spoke loudly, as id she was letting all the people in the tower know. “That’s a lot. Looks like we’ll be getting that ballet studio after all.”
“Yeah. That is a lot.” Thor appeared in the doorway upon hearing Natashas declaration. He eyed you and Peter with a ponderous look on his face, becoming aware that he was losing the competition.
“Oops. I just remembered that mistletoe is poisonous.” Nat finished her bit. “Guess I won’t be making these! Bye guys!”
She swiftly left the room, leaving the mistletoe on the counter. You and Peter looked at each other, equally confused about what was happening. Thor walked further into the kitchen and pretended to take interest in the mistletoe. He held it up over his head before holding it over you and Peter.
“Are you two sure this mistletoe is good for use?” He asked, stealing Nat’s idea.
“We’re not kissing for you.” Peter told him flatly.
“I never liked you anyway.” Thor stated as he dropped the mistletoe and left the kitchen. He wandered the tower until he found Pepper reading in the living room.
“Pans. I have some bad news.” Thor sighed as he laid on the couch like he was in a therapists office. “The competition your husband started is rigged.”
“Why do you say that?” Pepper wondered.
“Because I’m losing!” Thor whined. “Gods do not lose to humans. Unless it’s a contest for tiny people.”
“How many kisses have you gotten?” Pepper asked, well aware of the contest.
“0 so far.” He sighed. “Everyone else has four or five. Banner has seven!”
“So you just have to come up with a plan that blows everyone else out of the water.” Pepper shrugged.
“Like what?”
“Everyone else has gotten them to kiss, right?” Pepper asked.
“Yes.” Thor nodded.
“You can get them to date.” Pepper said like it was simple.
“Why, that’s brilliant! Thank you, Pans!” Thor cheered as he got off the couch. “You have done me well.”
“You’re welcome.” Pepper chuckled as she flipped the page.
“Wait, your husband is also in this competition.” Thor realized. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because when Tony wins something, he gets way too cocky and thinks he’s above doing any laundry or cleaning.” Pepper explained. “Someone else has to win or he’ll buy Mexico or something.”
“Thank you, lady Pans.” Thor grinned. “I will not disappoint.”
Thor
“May I come in? I’m just kidding. I am coming in regardless of your answer.” Thor chuckled as he barged into your room. You and Peter had been sitting on the bed, jumping from fear as he came in.
“Hi, Thor.” You said skeptically as Thor pulled up a chair. “Can we help you with something?”
“For the past few weeks, the Avengers have been holding a stupid contest that I am losing to see who can get you two to kiss the most.” Thor explained. “They have been using mistletoe to carry out this stupid contest.”
“Wait, what?” You and Peter looked at each other in shock. Suddenly, the strange behavior and random mistletoe sightings all made sense.
“That’s why there’s mistletoe everywhere?” You asked. “And why did you guys do this in the first place? Why us?”
“Because you two like each other.” Thor shrugged. “And everyone knows it. Except for you two. You don’t know it.”
“What?” Peter sputtered. “We do not-“
“Shh.” Thor hushed him. “Don’t talk to me. Talk to each other. You’re welcome.”
Thor smiled kindly before getting out of his chair and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.
“I can’t believe they did this.” Peter groaned. “Forcing us to kiss because they think we like each other? Who comes up with that?”
“I know right?” You agreed. “How we feel about each other is none of their business.”
“Exactly. And what do they know? If I liked you, I think I would know.” Peter forced a laugh, well aware that he liked you.
“Yeah. We would know.” You nodded before looking at him skeptically. “We would know, right?”
“I don’t know.” Peter answered honestly. “It’s kinda hard to tell how I feel about you. I never know if something that happens between us is platonic or romantic.”
“Me either.” You spoke softly as you put your hand on his. “Kissing isn’t really platonic, though.”
“I guess not.” Peter chuckled as he looked at you. You stared at him for a moment, heart beating in your ears as you thought out your next step.
“Peter, do you like me?” You asked slowly, looking at him through your eyelashes.
“Um, kinda, yeah.”
“Kinda?” You laughed softly at his answer.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed and squeezed your hand. “I don’t know what to say in this situation.”
“Just tell me how you feel.” You shrugged.
“I feel like I’ve been lingering around places where the mistletoe in hopes that you’ll walk by and kiss me.” Peter confessed, looking at you with a shy smile.
“Well that’s not platonic.” You teased him, leaning into him a little.
“No, it’s not.” Peter agreed. Your eyes flicked to his lips briefly before leaning in to kiss him, pulling his face closer to yours with the hand that wasn’t holding his. He kissed you back once he got over the surprise, sitting up straighter to get closer to you.
“You don’t need mistletoe to kiss me, Petey.” You whispered once you pulled away. “You can do it whenever you want.”
“I’m gonna take you up on that.” Peter smiled softly at you.
“I hope you do.” You flirted before connecting your lips to his again. On the other side of the door, Thor had his ear pressed up against the crack, listening to every word with a huge grin.
“I am so going to win this contest.”
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luvdsc · 9 months ago
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haha, what if we kissed? (lol jk... unless?)
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fact! you’re secretly in love with your best friend, and so is he!
pairing :: zhong chenle x reader genre :: fluff / best friend, buzzfeed worth it au word count :: 5,072 words warnings :: none playlist :: sunny afternoon (red velvet) ⋆ about love (marina) ⋆ all about you (nct u) ⋆ love (x lovers) ⋆ bella notte (f. murray abraham & arturo castro) author’s note :: i literally just finished writing the rest of this in my meetings today and am posting during my lunchbreak, but happy (1 day late) birthday, chenle sweetheart!! ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.
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“Hello, and welcome back to another episode of Dream: Worth It!”
Chenle shouts loudly from the driver’s seat, waving excitedly at the camera attached to the dashboard as he waits for the traffic light to turn green. You visibly flinch in your spot on the passenger's side, startled by the sudden greeting, and even Jisung jumps in the backseat, almost dropping the camcorder he was fiddling with.
Your best friend continues to give the camera a dazzling smile, paying no attention to your and Jisung’s brief glares. “Today on Worth It, thanks to a fan’s suggestion, we’ll be trying out three different spaghetti dishes at three drastically different price points to find out which one is most worth it at its price!”
“Yes,” you chime in, nodding excitedly at the camera and giving a little wave. “So if you want to see another riveting episode of Chenle and Jisung going on three dates at three drastically different price points while I third wheel again, please stay tuned!”
“Hey!”
Both the boys wildly protest, but you blatantly ignore them, checking your phone quickly before beaming at the camera again. “So here’s our first spaghetti fact! The word ‘spaghetti’ is actually the plural version of spaghetto. Spaghetto comes from the Italian word spago, which means twine or thin string.”
“Wait, that actually makes sense. Spaghetti looks like thin strings,” Chenle says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“Yeah, basically every language makes sense, except for English,” you remark, setting your phone down in your lap before turning to your best friend. “So are you excited for this episode’s dish?”
“Yes! Shout out to Moony for your suggestion,” Chenle calls out, driving forward before making a right. “If anyone else has any suggestions for future videos, please feel free to comment below.”
You start to explain the first restaurant to your viewers. “Our first stop is called Legalize Marinara! It’s a small hole in the wall place in downtown LA, and fresh pasta is made everyday. We’ll be talking to the owner and chef Johnny Suh about the daily process.”
“And cut!” Jisung calls out, and you stop there, pressing the off button to end the recording. Later on, the three of you will have to work on snipping up the recordings to create a smooth transition from there to a shot of Johnny and his restaurant before jumping into your quick interview with him.
You quickly scroll through the questions you had written ahead of time to ask Johnny on your phone, mouthing the words and memorizing them. You were always the one who asked about the history of the restaurant because Chenle wasn’t as good with the more sentimental questions and preferred the light hearted ones about the food specifically, which you didn’t mind. As long as you get to try good food at the end of it, you’re one very happy, very stuffed camper. You are very much looking forward to visiting Legalize Marinara.
“—and that’s how the pasta is freshly made everyday in the morning.” Johnny finishes up, giving the camera a very charismatic smile and a wink. “We also have a special brew of coffee created by my dad, but that’s a story for another episode. I’ll bring out the spaghetti once it’s ready.”
You and Chenle thank him before going over to sit at one of the small metal tables near the entrance. The place had a sort of modern, yet retro feel to it with an eclectic mix of vintage, kitschy furniture adding pops of color here and there to the otherwise simple space with a neutral palette. The name of the restaurant flashes as a neon sign, serving as the main wall decor along with records scattered here and there on the wall as well.
Jisung stands across from the two of you, propping the large camera on his shoulder in preparation. You and Chenle both take a sip of the special coffee drinks Johnny prepared for you each on the house, pleasantly surprised by the crisp, refreshing taste your taste buds are immediately hit with. Johnny appears minutes later, a pretty plate of simple spaghetti and meatballs along with some Parmesan and garnish on top in hand.
“Here’s our most popular dish: spaghetti with meatballs!” he announces, placing the plate in front of you both carefully. “It’s a simple tomato sauce, but it’s made with organic, local ingredients that we get from the farmer’s market every morning. We get the fresh meat from the butcher down the block everyday to make the meatballs and buy the cheese from local sellers as well. We also add the secret spice mixture created by my mom to the meatballs, which gives it a distinct flavor from other restaurants. Please dig in, guys!”
You immediately swirl your fork into the plate of spaghetti. It looks and smells absolutely fantastic, and your mouth is already watering. You cannot believe that this only costs thirteen dollars. This is an absolute steal. You are just about to take a bite when—
“Wait! We didn’t do a ‘cheers’ yet!” Chenle exclaims, sticking out his fork towards you. You clink your fork against his own metal utensil, and he’s finally satisfied, retracting his arm. Finally, you take the much anticipated bite. The flavors absolutely explode in your mouth, and you’re already reaching out to take a second forkful of the delicious masterpiece.
“This is amazing,” you declare, and Chenle nods enthusiastically, spearing a meatball with his fork. Jisung briefly pans the camera over to Johnny, who shows a double thumbs up before doing finger guns and giving an exaggerated wink.
“Here, try this.” Chenle cuts a piece of the meatball and offers it to you. You reach out for it, but he pulls back, smiling widely and eyes sparkling. “Nuh uh, that’s too easy. Say ah, Y/N.”
“I—” Your cheeks grow warmer than ever, and his grin grows broader, wriggling the fork in front of you. Face burning, you move forward and take a bite. You can hear Jisung fake gagging behind the camera and very much would like to flip him the bird, but you are a professional. You’ll get him back for that later. After all, revenge is a dish best served piping hot and spicy, and you have some Carolina reapers leftover from another video that may accidentally find its way into Jisung’s ramen next time.
You and Chenle spend some more time describing the dish in between bites as Johnny pipes in here and there with some well placed dad jokes that has Jisung shaking his head behind the camera. By the end of it, you both are very happy, and you switch places with Jisung who has a chance to try out the pasta himself at last. He silently eats it before tossing a thumbs up at the camera, and you stop the recording there. After thanking Johnny once more before the three of you leave, you all pile into your car and get ready to go to the next stop.
Up next: Penne for your Thoughts.
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“Can we stop here?” Jisung pipes up, peering out the window with interest. His eyes scan the surroundings, peering at the empty space and the wide stairs in front of the spiraling columns of a grand building.
You furrow your eyebrows, glancing at your friend in the backseat. “We’re still a couple blocks away from the restaurant though.”
“This looks like a good spot to film a dance,” he muses to himself before sitting up straighter. “Can we take a quick break? We’re still early, and I wanted to film a quick TikTok before the sun sets.”
You look over at Chenle, who shrugs and pulls over. He backs up into an available parking space, parallel parking smoothly, one hand gripping the back of your seat and the other on the steering wheel. “Alright, do your thing, Jisungie.”
Jisung excitedly hops out from the back. You and Chenle follow suit, locking the car behind you. Your friend is busy setting up his collapsible tripod before placing his phone on it and calling over to you, “Hey, can you stand in front, Y/N? I wanna angle this correctly and check the lighting.”
You move in front of his phone, standing several steps in front of the stairs. Jisung fiddles around with his phone for a few moments, switching up some of the settings and zoom functions before straightening up, eyes bright. “Okay, stay there to mark the spot! I’m gonna press the start button to record. Chenle, can I borrow your phone? I need to play the song for the dance.”
Chenle hands him his phone, and the familiar intro to Doja Cat’s “Say So” begins to blast on top volume. Jisung hands it back to its owner and hurriedly moves to stand in front of his own recording phone as you step aside. “I kinda also need you two in my TikTok.”
“Wait, what? I don’t know the dance,” you protest, starting to back out, but Jisung grabs your hand, pulling you into view, as Chenle bounces over with a shrug of his shoulders, never one to shy away from the camera.
“You don’t need to dance. I just need you both to uh, kiss my cheek on, um, both sides when I tap on them both. It should be the fourth time she says ‘say so’ in the song,” he stammers slightly, face turning slightly pink. He avoids making eye contact as you give him a suspicious look, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What? Why?”
“It’s part of the dance! Now get out of the shot please because the chorus is finally coming up again!” He unceremoniously shoves you out of the frame, and Chenle quickly catches you before you faceplant into the ground. You have a few choice words to yell at your friend and are about to furiously march over to him, but Chenle tightens his grip on you. “Let’s just let him finish, and we can go on. You know how he is about dancing.”
“I’m paying Renjun to put another cockroach picture as his lockscreen again,” you huff, frowning at the dancing boy. “Why didn’t you say anything about the whole kissing request anyway?”
“Eh, I’ve done it before. It’s no big deal.” Chenle shrugs, and you start to stutter, brain malfunctioning, “Wait, you did wha—”
“Oh, it’s almost our cue!” Chenle pushes you towards Jisung as he runs behind the camera to the other side, and you find yourself stumbling for a second time before catching yourself. Grumbling to yourself, you catch Chenle’s apologetic expression, and you sigh, shaking your head as you wait on the sidelines for Jisung to do the move.
And there it is.
Jisung points at his cheeks, tapping them on both sides, and you and Chenle jump into the frame. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly against— wait.
Eyes widening, you jump back in shock, mouth popping open, and the same reaction comes from your best friend when you two realize that you just kissed each other. On the lips.
Crouched on the ground, Jisung looks rather smug after quickly dropping down mid-dance and orchestrating the whole incident. He quickly stands up, striding towards the camera and ending the recording, before efficiently packing up the equipment and walking back to the car without another word.
“Did we just—” you splutter, unable to continue your sentence, as your face grows increasingly warm. Chenle refuses to make eye contact with you, the darkening blush spreading across his face like wildfire. The two of you both direct your disbelief at the same target, rushing over to the car which he boredly stands next to, waiting for Chenle to unlock it.
“Jisung!” You both shout his name, and he just stares at you both, a small grin across his face that he struggles to hide. “What?”
“‘What?’ That’s it? What was that?! Why did you do that?” you exclaim, waving your arms around. Chenle is rendered speechless, unable to say anything after the quick outburst of his other best friend’s name.
“I was tired of listening to Che—mmph!” Jisung is abruptly cut off as Chenle throws his hand over his friend’s mouth, effectively interrupting whatever he was about to say. The two of them silently look at each other, maintaining some sort of telepathic stare that’s probably discussed in the universal book of the bro code. You’ve seen Jaemin and Jeno or Renjun and Donghyuck share the same look before and never really understood it. To be honest, it kind of reminds you of that one moment where the main characters of a chick flick gaze into each others’ eyes and then kiss.
The sound of a text notification cuts off your train of thought and breaks the intense stare down going between the two boys, and you check your phone, eyes widening. “Oh my god, we’re going to be late if we don’t go now! Taeyong just texted me to confirm if we’re coming.”
The three of you hurry into the car, buckling up in your seats. Your hand lightly grazes Chenle’s amidst the rush, and you freeze. You look up, heat spreading across your face, as Chenle meets your gaze, turning redder than spaghetti sauce.
“Alright, you can continue this moment at the restaurant,” Jisung says loudly, jolting the two of you out of your stupor. You quickly retract your hand, mumbling a quick apology, and look away, cheeks still growing warmer than ever. Chenle awkwardly clears his throat and starts the car up, driving to your second stop on the map.
Penne for your Thoughts is simply lovely. It reminds you of a place you would see on the shiny cover of Architecture Digest: a hot spot where all those social influencers would take aesthetic snapshots and post to their Instagrams. The restaurant is quaint and spacious: a large area filled with lots of greenery, hanging plants in simple white ceramic pots, white painted brick walls, and wooden tables with soft cushions on each seat. Once you wrap up the interview with Taeyong, you are seated next to an open window with a great view of a pretty koi pond in the back.
“We serve Korean fusion style food here, and our spaghetti has a freshly made tomato sauce that includes chopped kimchi infused in it. We found that using garlic marinated pork belly makes a more flavorful meatball, which we char slightly, paying homage to the wonderful KBBQ samgyeopsal. We also found that a raw egg yolk on top adds a richness to the pasta, which is similar to a bowl of bibimbap. And there’s some grated Parmesan and mozzarella on top.” Taeyong sets the plate of gorgeous spaghetti in front of you and Chenle with a shy smile. “I hope you both enjoy it.”
You don’t know how else to describe the dish, except that it is beautiful (Just like the restaurant owner, like have you seen his face? Lee Taeyong is the true modern day Adonis, but you digress). You swear you saw Chenle wipe a tear from his face out of the corner of your eye. Practically salivating, you impatiently wait for Jisung to take a few close up videos and pictures of the dish before you immediately dig in.
Fork awkwardly hovering in the air, you pause, turning to Chenle. “Uh, cheers?”
His own loaded fork is halfway to his mouth when he halts. “Oh! Right. Yes. Um, cheers, Y/N.”
The two of you stiffly tap your forks against each other before facing forward again and finally taking the much desired bite. The flavors are bursting like fireworks, and if someone told you that you had died and gone to heaven, you would believe them because there’s no other word to explain the taste other than heavenly. Dante had many circles leading to the center of hell. If you are to apply the same concept to heaven, Legalize Marinara would be the first circle you enter once you go past the pearly gates, and Penne for your Thoughts would most definitely be the second.
The clinking of Chenle’s fork against the plate breaks you from your thoughts, and your good mood falters when you remember the incident again. You plaster a quick smile as you begin to describe the dish to the camera. Chenle chimes in with a wide smile of his own that looks a little too forced, but the only one who seems to notice is you.
Once the recording is wrapped up, Chenle drops you off at your apartment building for you to change into a more dressier attire for the last stop. He and Jisung will change at their place before coming back to pick you up for dinner.
Up next: Terrazza San Valentino.
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The place is positively breathtaking. It is an upscale restaurant with open seating on a terrace, leading to a beautiful view of the ocean. Wisteria vines and bright flowers weave their way through the twisting low iron fences encompassing the space as they climb the sides of the building. You have the perfect seat to witness the picturesque sunset over the rippling waters. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon had been brought out and now rests on the covered table, uncorked and already poured out into two glasses. It very much reminds you of the beautiful restaurants you visited along the Amalfi Coast, specifically Il Capitano in Positano. You only hope that the food here will be just as amazing as the pasta you ordered there.
You just wish your company was a little better. The atmosphere felt more awkward than the time your mom had set you up on a blind date with her coworker’s son. You had to text Chenle for help that time, and he came to your rescue, helping you escape after pretending to be your long lost son. Obviously, your date wasn’t dumb enough to believe that, but he did believe that you were completely off your rockers and immediately took off after that.
Sneaking a glance at your best friend, you sigh when you realize that he refuses to look your way. You carefully tuck the skirt of your wine red dress under your crossed legs. The sweetheart neckline emphasizes the simple gold necklace you have on, and the dress tapers off at your waist, accentuating your figure perfectly. You paired the outfit with a matching lipstick, a simple black clutch, and some elegant black heels with ribbons that loop around your ankles into a pretty bow.
In other words, you look stunning, and Chenle’s palms are growing sweaty. He undos the first few buttons of his white dress shirt, desperately wanting to take off his tailored suit jacket, but his attire would look much too casual without it. He avoids eye contact with you and remains silent, growing even more flustered by the second, and looks at Jisung helplessly.
Of course, his other best friend proves to be useless again (Disappointing, but not surprising). Jisung simply wriggles his eyebrows at him, eyes darting from you to Chenle, before zooming into his face at a very unflattering angle. Chenle throws him a dirty look, and Jisung merely sticks out his tongue in response. However, they immediately smoothen their expressions into much more pleasant ones when Jaehyun comes out with the plate of food on a small cart.
“This is our play on spaghetti.” He gives you a dimpled smile, and you briefly wonder if the customers rave about this restaurant because of the food or the chef. Perhaps it is a combination of both.
He continued to explain the dish, setting it down in front of you and Chenle. “We use strangozzi that is made fresh every morning. We infuse sun dried tomatoes that we dried ourselves into the olive oil for a minimum of thirty days. The pasta is cooked for sixty seconds, while we slightly sauté grated truffle in the oil in a pan. Once the pasta is ready, we transfer it to the truffle pan and cook it for another minute, making sure to coat the pasta in the sauce. And then we grate some Parmesan and truffles right on top at the table.”
Jaehyun pulls out the expensive mushroom, generously grating thin slices on top of the glistening strands of pasta. The smell is incredible, and your eyes are already hyper fixated on the dish in front of you. He puts down the mushroom and grater, picking up the second grater and the cheese from the cart before shredding the cheese perfectly.
When he finishes, Jaehyun places them back on the cart and smiles at you both charmingly once more. “I hope you enjoy your meal. If you need anything else, please feel free to ask.”
You thank him before he leaves, and Jisung takes all the necessary shots before giving the okay to start eating. You and Chenle offer up some comments about the elegance of the dish, describing its appearance and finally twirling some on the end of your fork. You murmur a quiet “cheers” as the two of you clink your glasses of wine together and take a sip before having the first bite.
The amount of money you have to pay to have a truffle dish is absolutely worth it. The taste is simply indescribable, and you truly have no words. You are blown away by the amount of flavor that can be created with just a few ingredients, and your taste buds are singing. Wide eyed, you turn to look at Chenle, who has the same astonished expression on his face, already staring back at you in complete surprise.
“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and your best friend agrees with you. “Holy shit indeed.”
You immediately go for another bite, and Chenle quickly follows suit. “This is— this is incredible. I don’t know how to describe it, except, except, wow. I can’t stop eating it, and the sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, fresh pasta al dente, and truffles just work so well together. It’s like a symphony in my mouth.”
“I agree,” Chenle nods enthusiastically, swiping another forkful of the yummy goodness. “This has to be one of the best dishes of the entire season.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” You spear a slice of the truffle with the pasta, and the ensuing bite is simply perfect and delectable. “I would come back here every single week if my bank account would let me.”
The stifled atmosphere between the two of you suddenly becomes relaxed at that point, the thick tension dissipating with food never failing to act as the perfect ice breaker and buffer simultaneously. For now, you can pretend the kiss didn’t happen and almost forget it (key word: almost).
“There’s a very popular fan suggestion,” Jisung pipes up, looking at the comment section of the previous video where you and Chenle announced your current recording’s star dish. “It got over twenty thousand likes and five hundred responses.”
“What is it?” You pause in eating, fork poised in the air, as you look over to your friend behind the camera. Chenle pays no attention, continuing to take another bite.
“Recreate the Lady and the Tramp moment.”
Your jaw drops, and your eyes grow round. Practically scandalized, your voice goes an octave higher. “You mean the kissing scene?!”
At the mention of kissing, Chenle chokes on a noodle, spluttering and nearly hacking up a lung, and you quickly reach over and firmly pat him on the back repeatedly until he stops coughing with a weak “thanks.”
“What? This is a food show! Why do they want us to kiss?” your best friend wheezes, and you pass him a glass of water. He grabs it from your outstretched hand gratefully and takes a large gulp.
“I don’t know, fan service? Anyway, it’s good for the views!” Jisung gives you a thumbs up, and you frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Why don’t you do it with Chenle then?”
“It specifically says you and Chenle,” he informs smugly with a smirk, and you glower at him, much to his amusement.
“Well, if it’s for the fans…” Chenle trails off, a faint blush beginning to make its appearance on his face. He hesitantly pulls out one strand of the pasta, picking up one end on his fork.
You can’t believe this. Yet, you slowly reach out for the other end of the strand with your fork, twirling it onto the metal prongs securely. You move to take your end of the noodle, while Chenle does the same, both of you actively avoiding eye contact.
“Oh c’mon, at least make it a little more romantic than that. Jeno and Jaemin have more chemistry than you two right now,” Jisung complains, and you would very much like to chuck the half full bottle of wine at his big, annoying head (Chenle also has similar thoughts).
Taking a deep breath, you finally place the noodle’s end in your mouth. Cheeks burning, you can feel your heart rate already skyrocketing at the mere thought of kissing your best friend again. You know you’ll freeze up if you look at him, so you do your best to focus your gaze on the center of the noodle strand. You’ll have some time before the two of you meet in the middle, right?
Wrong.
It comes much too soon, and your palms are growing sweaty as your heart races in your chest at a breakneck speed. Your lips are mere millimeters away from his, and you pause. You can’t hear anything, but the pounding of your heart and the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you finally find the courage to peek up at your best friend. You find him already gazing at you, a soft expression on his face. His eyes dart down to your lips before meeting your eyes once more, and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for you, that he won’t do anything unless you want it too, that it’s okay if you don’t.
But you do.
So you muster up all the courage you possibly can and close the distance, carefully pressing your lips against his for a tender kiss before biting off the noodle. When you pull back, you finally notice the awestruck expression written all over Chenle’s face. He lets out a small laugh of disbelief before he positively beams, bouncing in his seat, and you sport a matching smile, albeit a little bashful.
“Uh, anyway, who left that comment? We should probably give them a mention,” you say, clearing your throat and hoping the heat subsides in your cheeks soon. Chenle continues to grin like the Cheshire Cat and secretly grabs your hand underneath the tablecloth, intertwining your fingers with his. You can feel your face exponentially growing warm once again, but you still send a pleased smile to your best friend.
“Uh…” Jisung awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “‘Insert goofy’s chuckle.’”
At Jisung’s answer, you freeze up entirely in your position before immediately turning and locking eyes with Chenle in complete horror, the both of you instantly coming to the same, dreadful realization.
“HYUCK?!”
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One new notification: Dream: Worth It uploaded a new video!
insert goofy’s chuckle commented:
oh my god you guys actually did it. your relationship started all thanks to ME 🙆🏻 you’re welcome btw 😘 I take payment in the form of your first born’s name
notanimpasta replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle ok calm down rumpelstiltskin
jisung pwark replied:  @ notanimpasta what a perfect nickname for him. He’s an ugly little greedy man
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark LMAOOOO (and congrats, chenle and y/n!)
 insert goofy’s chuckle replied:  @ jisung pwark what tf no one asked??? 
notanimpasta replied: @ jisung pwark wait hold on you were supposed to edit that end part out????
jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta i left it for the views ☺️
big head king replied: @ jisung pwark people watch for the food tho!!! 🙂
nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ replied: @ big head king I watched it for the kiss. Love is so beautiful 🥰💓💞🥺🥺💕💛💟✨💖
jenojam replied: @ big head king I had watched it for the food! but congratulations, y/n and chenle :) 
insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ big head king i watched it because ron jeon said you mentioned me
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle IT’S RENJUN!!!!!! 🤬🤬 
mork lee rawr xD replied: hahaha I watch for the food~
insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ mork lee rawr xD Thank you Mark, very cool!
winwin in past tense is wonwon!!! commented:
whoop whoop congrats lele 🥳🥳
rapperpunzel commented:
the pasta looks good 🍝
johnny’s communication center commented:
Thanks for stopping by! Come back for the couple’s special discount anytime 😉
baa baa yang sheep commented:
oh my god finally!!!
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ baa baa yang sheep you owe me $50 I was right, it happened before the season finale
baa baa yang sheep replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck suddenly i’m jared, 19
xiao dejasmine commented:
hahahaha cute ! 😁😁
ty track commented:
Thank you y/n and chenle for visiting ~~ congrats on your relationship !!! -TY
junguwu (◕‿◕✿) commented:
YAAAAAS CHENLE SWEETIE 😘😘😘
jisung pwark commented:
check out my latest tiktok video @ jisungpwark to see their actual first kiss!!! and don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe ☺️
notanimpasta replied: @ jisung pwark STOP USING US AS CLICKBAIT
jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta no ❤️
jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta also red is sus
big head king replied: @ jisung pwark so when are you gonna do the best friend kissing challenge huh 👀
jisung pwark replied: @ big head king SHUT UP CHENLE
honeyfairy replied: @ jisung pwark 😳😳
gu ren gui god commented:
wow~ very cute, chenle! my angel 😊
FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:
YOOOOO CONGRATS, MAN 🤩🤪🤪
prince jae commented:
thank you guys for coming by! please stop by next year on your anniversary free of charge (:
insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ prince jae omg mark and I will be there for sure ❤️
showmethemonet replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle my new boyfriend and I will be there too ☺️
insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet I’m sorry, I was wrong, pls don’t leave me for bts jin even though i am so much more handsomer and talented than him 😌
apado gwenchana god commented:
nice 😎👍🏻
1K notes · View notes
doinmybesthere · 5 months ago
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oikawa x reader
summary: you meet oikawa when your flights are cancelled. 
a/n: fluff, smut, love, idk im a mess. dedicated to my oikawa kinnies and fuckers, @therealvalkyrie​ @romancefiend​ and @nerdynstoned​ reader is not super thin​
and a special thanks to Isa at @fuckoffyoutoad​ who RQ’d this for my 900 event i think idk if i even remember maybe you just sent me a thot and i went rogue
WC: 3.9K
TOKYO AIRPORT - 1:45AM 
Oikawa attempts to remain cheerful as he realizes he’s missed his flight. He jogs lightly to the attendants desk, handing them his card, but is unable to keep his face from falling at the next thing she says. 
“The next flight to New York City isn’t for sixteen hours.” 
“No,” he hears behind him, a sad, defeated sigh. He turns and sees, you, a slight flush on your cheeks, you’ve clearly just sprinted through the airport. 
“I’m afraid we’re in the same boat.’ he says, handing the attendant his card to process the new transaction, not taking his eyes off of you, catching some movement at the bottom of your backpack, he recognizes the keychain lanyard. “Oh,” he exclaims excitedly, “I have the same one!” You smile softly at him. 
“I got it when I was hiking in Argentina.” You explain, “I found this total tourist trap at the base of a mountain and I thought it was really cute.” He cocks his head at you. 
“You’ve been to Argentina?” You nod. 
“I’m a geologist, a glaciologist, if we’re getting, um, technical.” You look a little self conscious. “Um, you know and Argentina has the only glaciers in the world that are still-” 
“Growing.” He interrupts you. “I know all about it. I’m a volleyball player, I play for the Argentine national team.” You look even more embarrassed. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a volleyball game.” You laugh a little, “I’m American, if um, you couldn’t tell by my Japanese.” He smiles at you, effortlessly switching languages to English. 
“I could tell, but your Japanese is excellent, you have no reason to be self-conscious.” There’s something about your smile, it’s almost, physically warming. “They’re playing one of my games in the Delta Premier Sky Lounge.” Your face warms and you swallow. 
“Oh um,” you tuck some hair behind your ears. “I am not a Delta premier member.” He rolls his eyes. 
“You’re with me.” He offers, and you grin, taking his tanned arm. 
“So what brings you to Tokyo?” You ask and he sighs. 
“Family, I’m actually from Miyagi, in the countryside. I’m going to New York to do press and endorsement shoots, and then I’ll be back to Argentina, actually.” He looks at you. “What brings you to Japan.” 
“I’m assisting with some research on um, magma plutons?” He blinks down at you. “Basically pockets of liquid rock, which you have your fair share of in Japan, or I would say, under Japan. But uhm,” you look away again. “This is complicated and probably boring, I would understand if you didn’t-” He cuts you off. 
“No, please. I’ll talk your ear off about volleyball, I mean we have 16 hours together, don’t we?” You laugh lightly again, fidgeting with the lanyard with your free hand. 
“Alright, I suppose in that case, we’re even.” He leads you through the airport, it’s hitting you now, of course, he’s an athlete, he’s tall and lean, with huge shoulders. You could even tell by looking at his hands, sun-darkened and veiny, long fingers curled around his rolling suitcase handle. He yanks you gently out of the way of a speeding luggage cart. 
“A little distracted?” He asks you, a touch of smugness in his smile.
“Um,” you say, “No um, definitely not.” He laughs and you continue. “So basically there are these things called um, glacial dropstones, and they can be used to date things by checking the magnetic field of certain minerals inside the rock, like their magnetic field will be aligned to the magnetic field of the Earth where they solidified.” You’re gesturing a bit with your free hand. 
“Ahh, like,” he pauses, stopping outside the lounge, dropping your arm. “In relation to the sphere of the earth, like the shape of the larger magnetic field.” Your eyes sparkle and his heart drops to his stomach. 
“Exactly.” He smiles at you before turning to the attendant and speaking in smooth Japanese. 
“Can we get two rooms please, we have a 16 hour layover.” She nods and smiles, the keys of her computer clicking. 
“Unfortunately sir,” She says, “We only have one room left. A lot of flights have been cancelled.” He turns to you. 
“Thoughts?” 
“Are you offering?” You say dryly and he laughs. 
“There’s only one bed.” He answers and you shrug. “American,” he laughs, passing the attendant his card. “I should have known.” You hit him in the arm. 
“I meant I’ll sleep on the floor.” He looks scandalized, taking his car back. 
“I could never allow that.” He says quickly, eyes wide. “I won’t kick you, I promise.” You laugh again, he’s getting used to the easy music of the sound. Impulsively, he takes your hand leading you down the hallway to the room that he’d been handed the key to - 16. He opens the door for you, and it’s tiny. There’s basically a bed, a television and a tiny shower, and a tiny Ipad next to the door where you can order food and drinks. He watches you drop your backpack and flop on the soft white bed. 
“Ugh,” you moan, “Everything hurts.” He shakes his head at you, fumbling with the remote and turning the Tv on. He lies down next to you, leaning against the wall, and watching you stretch and writhe, clearly your back was sore, but he wasn’t about to put his hands on you like that. No, not you, with your bright smile, and unironic, passionate hand gestures, if he started to touch you he wasn’t going to be able to stop. Instead, he boops your nose. 
“Watch me win.” He orders plaintively, flipping the channel so that it’s showing his last game. You sit up and oblige, accidentally brushing his shoulder. 
“Oh,” You say, face warming. “You’re so warm.” He looks over at you, the skin he can see is peppered with goosebumps. 
“Are you cold?” He asks quietly. You nod. 
“I’ll just get under the blankets though. He shrugs. 
“I have a jacket.” You nod and he reaches down, unzipping his suitcase and draping the soft white jacket around your shoulders. You lean into him a little, he softens at your touch. 
“So,” he says quietly, “That one’s me, I’m the setter.” 
“Okay,” You say, snuggling into him a little more, it really is cold in the airport. He swallows, trying to lubricate his mouth a little. 
“The setter controls the flow of the game.” He explains. “I pass to the person who takes it over the net most of the time, but sometimes,” His onscreen self leaps up into the air and then gently tips the ball over the net. He feels your body tense as the other team dives for the ball but can’t quite get there. “I do it.” 
“I see.” You say. There’s warmth radiating from his body, you can’t help but to lean closer. “Do you mind if I-”
“No.” He says, quickly, too quickly, he thinks, but it’s worth it when you take his arm in both of your hands, and the game goes to commercial. “Tell me something, about glaciers.” 
“Um,” you think about it. “So when we take a core, like a sample, from the ice, there are these microbubbles of oxygen. We can take those isotopes, and based on how deep the sample is from, we can estimate the O2 level in the atmosphere, and with that information, we can extrapolate all kinds of things, from the size of insect lungs to the temperature of the atmosphere.” You swallow, his eyes are huge and brown and locked on you, you feel a warmth creep onto your cheeks. 
“I like listening to  you.” He says softly, turning his head to look down at you. You pause, the silence weighing between you. “Can I order us some drinks, or some snacks or something?” He says quickly, diffusing the tension. You nod. 
“Um can we get mimosas?” He hops off the bed and looks at you. 
“It’s 2AM!”  You say, “Time for breakfast.” He breaks into a warm smile and taps away on the ipad. A few minutes later, the door opens and an attendant brings in a huge tray of breakfast food, eggs, fluffy japanese pancakes, and a pitcher of mimosas. He bows a little, gesturing. 
“Breakfast, my dear.” You break into a wide smile and he bites down on a laugh as the first thing you grab is one of the oranges cut like a flower. He catches your hand, “Those are decorative, mi amorcita,” you go bright red. 
“I um,” you nervously play with your hair. “I like oranges.” He laughs. 
“Let me pour you a drink then.” He pulls the tray to the end of the bed and delicately pours you a flute of mimosa and then one for himself. You chatter happily, dividing the food up and sitting cross-legged on the bed. 
“So um, Oikawa.” You say, with a nervous smile. He likes the way that looks, he thinks, like you’re joy is a secret you’re not supposed to share, “Um obviously,” he holds a fork up with some pancake on it, interrupting you. You lean forward and he feeds you, watching you lick the whipped cream off of your perfect cupids bow. “I mean, um,” you shiver under the intensity of his gaze, “I’d like to sleep in my pajamas.” He nods. 
“Yes, I assumed.” You take a deep breath. 
“I don’t have any in my carry-on.” You mumble and he laughs. 
“Very forward of you to want to sleep naked but I don’t think the sheets are that clean-” You punch him in the shoulder, feeling the alcohol just a little. 
“I was going to ask to borrow a t-shirt!” You protest, eyes wide. He laughs, winking at you, and then puts on an air of mock exhaustion, 
“Just make sure to give it back, you know I charge for these since I’m such a big-” 
“I’ll sleep on the floor outside.” You say, hopping up and leaping for the door. Oikawa moves so quickly you barely see him, he gets up, takes your wrist gently, but firmly, and twirls you into his chest. 
“Do you really want to leave,” he looks down at you, your soft, parted lips, your bright eyes, so fucking alive, “I’ll let you go, mi amorcita,” he says, watching your breath hitch in your throat. He reaches down, softly, and slowly tucking some hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to sleep with me, to sleep here.” He breathes, still looking down at you. “I don’t want you to think-” He’s shocked when you rock up onto your tiptoes, and kiss him softly. You pull away, and he just stares at you, reaching down and cupping your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks. He leans down, he’s so tall, and so handsome, it feels like a dream to have him this close, to have him swipe a thumb across your lower lip and scrape the pad of his finger against the bottom row of your teeth. 
“So beautiful,” he breathes, and then, all at once, he lifts you, effortlessly taking your thighs in his hands, hooking them around his waist and spinning around, pinning you against the wall. He dives into your neck, mouth finding that sensitive spot in the valley of your collarbone, your hands on his, fuck, incredibly sculpted chest. You let out a soft gasp and his cock twitches in his sweatpants. “I like that sound,” he growls, grunting a little as he lifts you, throwing you down on the bed. You reach for him but he’s on top of you immediately, tugging your tank top over his head and unclipping your bra with a simple pinch, your breasts bouncing free as he tosses it over his shoulder with a smug smile, but you don’t even get a chance to roll your eyes at him because his huge hands are on your chest, massaging your breasts gently before burying his face between them, rolling your nipples between two long, calloused fingers. 
“Oh, fuck,” you get out, before his lips are on yours again, slotting a muscled thigh between your legs. You wrap your arms around his neck and sit up a little, licking the shell of his ear before nipping it lightly. 
“You little minx,” He says, laughing lightly, as he rips your hands from his body, pinning them over your head. You moan softly as he trails his tongue up your neck, kissing your jaw as you squirm, grinding against his thigh. “Do you want something,” he asks sweetly, “Darling, do you need, something from me?” You let out a soft whine and he chuckles. “Use your words, please.” 
“I want,” he bites down on your neck and you gasp, midsentence.
“Didn’t catch that.” He says brightly, try again. 
“Please, I want,” He pushes his thigh against your sex and you moan again, losing yourself in the sensation only to have him laugh at you again, brushing some hair out of your face, moving his hands back down to your chest. 
“You’re so sensitive,” he breathes, watching the blood pool in your cheek as he plays with your nipples, “Come on, darling,” he smiles at you again, “Try again,” he coos. You gasp, a flash of annoyance on your face for a second before his mouth closes on one of your nipples, and you lose yourself in your pleasure. You gasp again. 
“You,” you get out, “Talk too much,” You hear him laugh lightly, but when you tangle your hands in his soft brown hair and pull his head downward he obliges, slipping your leggings down around your knees, then tugging your plain cotton panties down before stopping and looking up at you. “What?” You ask, nervous, but he wordlessly climbs back up, and slips a pillow under your head, supporting your neck and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Try and be quiet for me,” he says evenly, “If you can, darling.” You scoff but you have to suck in a hard breath when he dives between your folds, dark eyes meeting yours as he sucks hard on your clit, finding it in seconds. You don’t need to see anything other then them to know how smug he’s feeling but you can’t blame him, his hands are hooked around your thighs with a bruising grip or you’d have squirmed out of his grasp. Every time he flicks his tongue over your clit your whole body reacts, your back arching, you’re taking fistfuls of the soft white comforter, and you know, you know that you’re only building his ego, but you can’t help yourself. 
“Oh,”  you cry out, “Oh, god, oh my fucking god, Oikawa,” you buck your hips up into his face and he chuckles into your warmth, lifting his head for just long enough to correct you. 
“Tooru.” He says and you take your hands in his hair and shove him back down, it’s not long before you’re close, the coil in your stomach tightening, 
“Tooru,” you whine, “Tooru, m’so close,” 
“Cum for me.” He growls, into you, sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue over  you one last time. It starts in your knees, you kick like you’ve been shocked and your last thought is you’re lucky he’s so, so strong, your orgasm rips through you, your thighs tightening around his head, body spasming as you completely forget where you are. Oikawa carries you through your high gently and carefully, and when you stop squirming underneath him, and go limp, he lifts his head, climbing up on the bed and lying next to you, brushing some hair out of your face . “You’re so beautiful,” he coos to you, “Such a pretty girl,” he wipes your teary face with his hand. You blink a couple of times, still out of it, but then you reach for him, pulling him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, you pull his soft white t shirt over his head, and run your hands over his sculpted abdominals. He chuckles into your mouth. 
“Not every geologist built like me, amoricita?” You mumble into his soft mouth.
“You’re kinda full of yourself,” and he pulls away, pinning you down on the bed, grinning evilly. 
‘And you’re kind of a brat,” He says with a smile, “But I think I know just the remedy for it.”  He peels his sweatpants and boxers down, his cock springing loose, long, and curved upward, already pink at the tip with need and a little precum dripping from the tip. He gets up and digs in his suitcase, effortlessly opening a condom and rolling it down his length. He catches your gaze and smirks. “Like whatcha see?” You shake your head reproachfully and laugh, “No complaining about my ego when your legs are still shaking,” he practically sings, climbing on top of you, hooking his arms around your shoulders, kissing you softly. “Still okay?” He asks, more seriously, rubbing his hard cock on your soaking folds. Your mouth opens a little at the sudden sincerity and you nod. 
“Yeah.” He smiles, and kisses you again, this time more passionately, and eases himself inside you. “Ohh,” you let out a soft breathy moan, it’s so nice feeling so full, even before he starts moving, the upward hook of his cock is hitting you in all the right places. 
“Fuck,” he swears, the first indication that he’s lost any of his composure, “Feel s’good,” he gets out, grunting a little as he starts to move, “Fuck,” he says again, “Y-you’re so warm, sweetheart, so fucking tight,” he rolls his hips against yours experimentally, measuring your expression, attuned to what you can handle, the way your hips lift to meet his, the gloss of your eyes, he picks up the pace. He feels your nails dig into his back, and he kisses you again, “Want you,” he breathes, and you look up into his beautiful face, every thrust punctuated by a soft moan, a little gasp, 
“T-tooru,” you say, your voice soft and vulnerable. “More, i want, more please, I-” he snaps his hips against you harder, 
“Like this?” He asks and you nod, feeling brave. 
“Choke me,” you gasp, eyes wide, “Please-” you don’t have to ask again, he wraps a long fingered hand around your throat and marvels at the way your eyes roll, at the way your cunt tightens around him. 
“Oh, she likes that, hm?” He asks, you don’t answer, you can’t, you can feel your own impending orgasm, getting closer every time he hits that one white hot bundle of nerves. “Good girl,” he coos, when he feels you clamp down on himself. “Cum for me, cum all over daddy’s cock.” You gasp and lose yourself in your high immediately as he nears his own end, his thrusts get sporadic, “Baby,” he grunts, “Fuck,” and you feel him get impossibly bruisingly hard inside of you before groaning loudly, the first ugly sound he’s made since you met him, and you love it. He collapses next to you, breathing heavily for only a moment, dragging you onto his chest, pressing soft kisses to your face. “I didn’t ask about the daddy thing-” He says and you cut him off with a bright giggle that lights up your whole face. 
“I liked it.” He shakes his head and boops your nose. 
“Of course you did.” He looks at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 4AM, amorcita,” he reaches out, turning the light off. You both get under the covers and he sets alarms. You settle in his arms. “Can I ask you something?” He says. You swallow, exhausted, your head on his chest. 
“Yeah.” He presses his lips to the top of your head. 
“Why are there like, different kinda of lava, like I know you’re a glaciologist but-” you cut him off with a laugh, lifting your head and kissing his cheek despite yourself, your heart already twisting at the idea of getting off the plane tomorrow and never seeing him again. 
“It has to do with the iron content of the magma and the time the pluton spends rising in the earth’s crust,” you explain, “Short answer is, more iron, mafic lava, you get what you’ve seen in Hawaii, watery almost, not very viscous lava.” He nods in the darkness. “The iron content and viscosity can also contribute to the nature of an eruption,” he shives you a little, propping you up on his chest. “So the less iron, the more viscous, the larger the explosion, like when you see something like Mt. St. Helens, that’s kinda part of it. I’m oversimplifying, obviously but-” he cuts you off with a searing kiss. 
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I like this. I uh, didn’t go to college.” You nod in the dark. “But I used to love learning, I just love volleyball more.” 
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” His hands are in your hair, detangling it with the gentlest touch. 
“We should sleep, my darling.” He says and you smile despite yourself. 
“You know,” You say with a yawn, “I never let men call me shit like that.” Oikawa smiles to himself. 
“I’m honored to be the first.” You spend the night entwined, moving often but always together, like you can’t bear to be away from each other. Oikawa is alway lacing his long limbs with yours, taking your thighs hostage between  his, holding you tightly to his chest. 
In the morning you don’t speak much. You’re both bleary-eyed,  you almost don’t notice that he buys you coffee, wordlessly handing it to you while you wait in line. He leaves you for only a moment, when he catches sight of your boarding pass and tells you to stay put for a moment. He comes back after a moment, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 
“I upgraded your ticket.” You rub the sleep from your eyes. 
“What?”
“I wanted you to sit next to me.” He says plaintively. You swallow, and he catches the slightest discomfort in your expression. “Did I overstep?” 
“No,” you say, your voice tired and small. “Um, Oikawa,” 
“Tooru.” He corrects.
“Tooru.” You say. “I live alone. I have a small apartment. Last night, was the first time in a long time, that anyone has, um,” your breath hitches. “Touched me.” He blinks at you. “So you don’t have to pretend that it was meaningful to you.” His jaw sets for a second. 
“What if, what if I wasn’t pretending?” You laugh lightly. 
“Tooru, look at me.” You pinch the fat of your thighs, knowing that when you look down your chin doubles. “Guys like you, they date models, they-” 
“Do you think so little of me?” He says quietly. “That last night was because I was, bored or something?” Your lip trembles, you’re exhausted. “Mi cielita,” he says, “My sky,” he takes you in his arms. “You need to rest. Promise me you’ll sleep on the plane.” You nod into his chest. 
“Okay.” 
“Promise me, if you want to, you’ll see me in New York.” You nod again. 
“Alright, Tooru.” He smiles, holding you to him with one hand, taking his phone out with the other. 
Oikawa: I met someone. 
Iwaizumi: like, you met Shaggy in that bar in LA without me, or like, you met someone
Oikawa: the latter. 
Oikawa: I’m kind of, nervous? 
Iwaizumi: bet she’s too good for you. Try not to let her figure that out. 
Oikawa: LOL 
Oikawa: I’ll text you when I land. 
Iwaizumi: night, shittykawa
Oikawa: Good morning, Iwa-chan
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starfirexl · 6 months ago
I loved the Damian hcs you did, do you have any specific Damian & Tim hcs?
...big brother tim? did you just ask me for...big brother tim?
nonny, oh sweet, sweet, nonny. i have spent countless nights lying awake thinking about little timmy drake all alone in his big, empty house, his little hands folded in prayer to a god he still slightly believes in, scribbling out letters and letters and letters to santa claus in colorful crayons and half-dried-out markers, staying up into the late hours of night to wish on every shooting star and airplane he sees, hoping and wishing and praying for a baby brother to call his own. all so that he won’t have to bear the weight of that crushing loneliness anymore.
do i have specific tim & damian headcanons? oh, you bet your fucking ass i do.
MY TIME HAS COME ~
okay, so i know all the canon ages are fucking confusing as hell, so imma just come right out and say that tim is like 16 in this and damian is 9 (i pushed their ages back because i can and because my hcs make more sense that way. hopefully???)
so, for all intents and purposes, tim’s in high school and dami’s in elementary school
i also used executive fanon privilege to make tim Not A High School Dropout™ and dami go to elementary school in gotham
anyway, you know what i can see really, really clearly? like in extremely vivid detail? 
tim and damian walking home together after school
like this is probably inaccurate af but i imagine that Gotham High and Gotham Elementary (i just came up w those fucking stupid-ass names but its not important anyway so) are relatively close to each other
tim always gets out of school first at like 2:30 pm which is enough time for him to do his weird High School Things™ and then skateboard over to dami’s school just in time for the littluns to get out at 3
colin n maps always think tim is so cool with his skateboard covered in stickers n grip tape n pretty designs
he does all these tricks for them sometimes n dami’s friends oooooohhh and aaaaahhhh while damian is just Not Impressed™ in the background 
“tt it is a sheet of cardboard with wheels, wilkes, not a spaceship, wipe that idiotic grin off your face”
lol damian’s just jealous cuz the first and only time he ever put a foot on a skateboard he failed so fucking spectacularly that he swore them off forever and now he’s too stubborn to admit that he wants to try again
sidenote: damian 100% decorates tim’s skateboards with acrylics and spray paint and one time he made this absolutely gorgeous skateboard deck for tim’s birthday and tim legit could not use it because it was so fucking beautiful
he keeps it up on the wall in his room instead :)
whenever they walk home together, tim either slings his skateboard over his shoulder or has damian stand on it and he just,,, holds his hand and pulls him along 🥺🥺🥺
of course, damian went ballistic the first time tim tried to take his hand, but tim could tell he was nervous about standing on the skateboard alone, especially since the first time was so bad, so he pulls Big Brother Privilege™ and starts listing all the ways it’s “logistically beneficial” to have damian hold his hand
don’t give me that look, tim could only convince dami to hold his hand while crossing the street by quoting obscure crosswalk laws and citing fake statistics about passenger-to-pedestrian fatality ratios in vehicular accidents
so even if he’s kinda bending the truth a little a lot this method works, okay?
damian eventually gets used to it, and sometimes, even if he’s not on the skateboard, he’ll just instinctively slip his little hand into tim’s
tim never says anything when it happens, just squeezes damian’s hand and holds on tight, and for them, that’s more than enough :) 
wayne manor’s in bristol, so i feel like whenever dami and tim walk home together tim just feels this overwhelming sense of nostalgia
cuz like,,, he’s walked this exact same route from gotham elementary to bristol so many times before n it’s honestly fucking surreal to think about
sometimes, he thinks he can see the ghost of his past self, a little boy trudging along all by his lonesome across the street from him n damian, his gaze on the ground and his dark hair covering his eyes
those are the times he can feel the contrast between his past and his present extremely clearly, and one time, when damian gave an eager little tug on his hand and pointed at a big fluffy dog a few feet in front of them, with something like hope and childish excitement in his eyes, asking ‘can i go pet him?’ tim just. he just.
well, it was like he was hit by a fucking freight train
all of a sudden, completely unprompted, completely unbidden, he remembers the letters to santa in sloppy, five-year-old handwriting, he remembers wishing on stars and airplanes and the digital clock flashing 11:11 at night, he remembers kneeling at the foot of his bed with his hands folded just so, just like his mama taught him, whispering prayers into the fabric of his bedspread to a god he no longer believes in
and he realizes. he’s a big brother. he’s a big brother. he will never, ever have to be alone again because timothy drake finally got a fucking baby brother and--
it literally takes all of his will power to not curl up into a ball and start crying in the middle of the goddamn street
me n timmy are alike in that respect. we’re angsty teenagers who don’t feel things like this gradually, we repress n repress n then it all comes rushing in like a fucking tidal wave n dear god y’all need to gimme a sec i have so many EMOTIONS about these two... 
ANYWAY. back to fluff :)
i’ve also had this strangely vivid daydream of tim introducing damian to bubble tea
first time damian tries it, he was so surprised by the tapioca balls he fucking spat them out
it was fucking H I L A R I O U S
the look on damian’s face. tim literally laughed so hard the tea came shooting out his nose
after he spends the next 30 min trying to convince damian that no, he wasn’t trying to poison him, damian hesitantly tries it again
the texture of the boba is really weird to him at first, but also strangely satisfying, he makes that exact same confused/disgusted/intrigued face every damn time n timmy has to make a conscious effort not to laugh so he doesn’t get maimed
privately, he thinks it’s adorable, the way dami’s nose scrunches up those first few times n the way his eyes light up when he finds a flavor he particularly likes
ok so the reason i wanted to push back their ages is because i love the idea of tim trying to get his driver’s license/permit n he drives damian around everywhere for practice
i had to look this up since i’m not from new jersey (other side of the country luvs) but basically in nj teens with probationary licenses usually have to have a supervising adult w 3 years of driving experience in the car with them
BUT. they can drive unsupervised w only ONE additional passenger (any more passengers n you need the Adult™)
long story short, dami is the additional passenger :)
since i’m such a sucker for big brother tim, i literally love every single hc that cements tim’s place as damian’s older sibling, anything that makes you go ‘oh, he’s definitely dami’s big brother’
and the whole older-siblings-driving-younger-siblings-around-for-practice thing is just such a hallmark of a big sib/little sib relationship 
so i just imagine tim driving damian everywhere: to school, to independent art classes, to the dog park etc etc etc
also just imagine.
the utter horror of parallel parking 
like tim will do the thing where he’s like “hey, demon baby, can you get out and see if i parked straight?”
and damian will just whip out his handy-dandy mental protractor and be like “tt drake, you imbecile, you’re 1.5 degrees off”
“okay how’s that?” “no! now you’re too far forward, go back! back. a little farther back. no that’s too far, go forward again! drake, are you deaf? i said forward! that’s too far forward—” and on and on it goes lmao 
i have this super clear vision of tim trying to do a u-turn and he just,,, gets stuck 
like one moment he was turning his blinker on n the next moment he’s somehow wedged the car horizontally across two (empty) lanes of traffic
and now he’s just sitting there, staring at the controls, completely blanking on what to do like “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—”
after a solid ten minutes of tim panicking, damian unbuckles his seat belt and climbs into the passenger seat
“drake, forfeit the driver’s seat to me, your incompetence will strand us here for hours”
“are you insane? i just got my license, i don’t wanna get arrested”
i mean. damian did technically learn to drive when he was really young but tim doesn’t think he can explain that to a fucking cop
they go back n forth on that for a while until damian just snaps, plops himself in tim’s lap and forcibly takes the wheel
they have to tag-team bc damian’s short-ass legs can’t reach the fucking pedals and oh god tim’s going to prison for this
dami manages to right the car much to tim’s utter frustration, tsk tsk shown up by a nine-year-old timmy 
buuuuuuut then they get pulled over by a fucking cop and tim panics because fuck, this is going to be all over the tabloids tomorrow if he can’t get out of this
so before the cop can make it to the driver’s window, he slides his hands under damian’s on the steering wheel and puts on his best Timothy Drake Teen CEO Smile™
he rolls down the window and the cop (who’s on the younger side) sees this itty-bitty kid in the driver's seat and he’s like “um?”
tim: oh don’t mind him, sir, my baby brother just wanted to know what it’s like to “steer” *makes a big show of showing how his hands are under damian’s tiny ones* kids these days, amiright?
the cop just smiles at damian like “heh, sorry kiddo, you’re still a ways away from bein able to drive like your big brother”
even though damian CAN drive thank you very much
damian catches on quick and decides he’ll stab tim later for making him do this 
“but timmy can drive, why can’t i drive? 🥺”
tim almost fucking chokes, it’s fucking terrifying and a liiiiiiittle cute to see damian acting all innocent 
the cop def buys it and laughs, reaches in to ruffle dami’s hair “maybe in a few years, kid”
damian has to make a conscious effort to not bite the guy’s hand off but his sweet little smile definitely gets a bit tighter 
after the cop drives away n they’re alone again, tim’s just like “holy fucking shit damian, you can smile? that was horrifying” and adorable 
damian threatens to eviscerate him again and all is well with the world once more 😌
oh god. oh my god. i’m crying. fucking sobbing, why is this so fucking long??? i was gonna add some stuff about them as vigilantes and team-ups with the two superboys but i guess not!!! guess who has two thumbs and can’t be concise to save her life, this girl! ughh i just love big brother tim sooooo much, but im sorry for making people scroll forever!!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this nonny :)))))
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strawberiitea · 4 months ago
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What The Fuck Was That: A very spiteful attempt at analyzing "Meet the latest resurrected gentleman of L'manburg" because god is dead and I killed him
A lot of people like myself have been left very very confused by this recent stream.
Truth be told, watching it live was nerve wracking as fuck my dudes!
It felt like everything I thought I knew about this absolute bastard of a man who haunts my silly little analysist dreams was completely thrown out of the window in favor of either confusion, panic, rage, or somehow all of the above!
But never fear! After rewatching the vod a total of three times fueled with nothing but the burning rage and spite I have in my silly little Wilbur sympathizer heart – I now somewhat have my shit together!!
BASICALLY!
Today, I will be sitting down and trying to pick apart and analyze whatever the fuck that shitshow of a stream was for your absolute entertainment value.
So if you're still reading this god awful introduction and are ready to subject yourself to the horrid sights of Tea Using Her Brain™ —
Be my guest :)
This rage essay will consist of a total of four sections.
Our first point being,
1. Someone's a little TOO mentally ill
I think as a general consensus for not only this analysis, but for the entire stream itself – is that it's important to remember that Wilbur is still very very mentally ill.
And while he may not be nearly as self destructive or suicidal as he was back in Pogtopia –
Wilbur is still dealing with those effects.
Shit like extreme cases of paranoia, depression, self loathing, and the odd phenomenom of viewing your reality as a fucked up narrative designed to twist your suffering into a literary tragedy doesn't dissapear out of thin air!
Not only are those effects completely untreated – but he also has the added trauma of being stuck in a dingy death train station in complete and utter isolation devoid of any stimuli for a good 13 years of his life!
This Man Is Not Okay!
And despite how much he claims he's better and generally seems happier – It's pretty likely he's still riding the euphoria of being alive, and is possibly dependant on it.
Wilbur seems to be in somewhat of a state of denial – such as by pretending he's perfectly fine and dandy, creating yet another persona to hide from his crushing amount of baggage, avoiding confronting his issues and instead making apologies he himself doesn't fully understand, or, i dunno—
Baring second hand witness to the abuse and manipulation his younger brother went through by the hands of the man he now views as his hero, and dismissing it in favor for his ideals? perhaps choosing not to look into it?
Or is it the apathy and desensitization to not only his own – or his brother's – but everyone's trauma?
or maybe it's the refusal to see past his own theatrical ideology?
Say, remember how he said not to think too hard about things?
This newfound euphoria won't last forever! It's only a matter of time until Wilbur has that wonderful slap of reality where it all comes crashing down!!!!! :D
2. He's a mushy mother fucker
Moving onto our next point!
Now, you might be a bit confused by the title. Allow me to elaborate!
Essentially, Wilbur is straight out of Literal Hell, right? To paint a picture for you – imagine being stuck in your own personal limbo for 13 years in complete isolation and darkness, left with nothing but your own spiralling thoughts as company.
Sounds fucking lovely, I know.
Now, imagine you are suddenly pulled straight out of that limbo and back into the real world more than a decade later on your end, in a fucking blink of an eye. Needless to say, it must've been jarring as shit.
What I'm trying to say is —
Wilbur's still adjusting to Being Fucking Alive.
Not only that, but he's desperately trying to find any sort of direction in life – trying to get back on his feet seemingly as quickly as he can.
He's like the fucking equivalent of a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time in life – only managing to consistently trip and stumble over like the utter fool he is.
And despite having a strict ideology – his thoughts and worldviews are still underveloped and have yet to inevitably change the more he adjusts to his new environment.
As of now, though? His mind is most likely just as fucked up and scrambled as it was on his final days.
His brain is just mfin scrambled eggs man.
3. Theatre kid morality: gone wrong
It's pretty apparent that Wilbur still holds a very very black and white mentality.
Comparing it to season 1, it was normal for the setting they were in! Everyone held those views, everyone played their roles of "good guy" and "bad guy"!
But comparing it to season 3? It's... tragically out of place.
Wilbur believes that true power is gained from violence. He recognizes the existence of meaningless decorative power, and he recognizes how broken and meaningless "government" on the server actually is – and yet, he is not self aware enough to realize that there are other forms of gaining power on the smp – such as charisma – and that his ideals are inherently flawed.
Not only is his moral compass incredibly skewed – but his entire perception of reality is.
To him, life is some sort of "Narrative" he and the people around him have to live up to. He views the world in fancy archetypes and literary titles – He is a villain, Dream is a hero, Eret is a traitor, Quackity is his rival. L'manburg is his unfinished symphony, he has to obey his Chekov's Gun, and he needs to tell a story.
It's not only his entire ideology, but it's also a coping mechanism.
Why accept that you're broken and in pain, when you can turn your anguish into a performance no one will ever forget?
4. Funky ass contradictions
Hoh boy, here's what you've all been waiting for.
Essentially, Wilbur's been constantly contradicting himself throughout the entire stream.
He's been making consistent contradicting statements all in the same confident tone, thus making it incredibly difficult to analyze and understand.
There's a lot of different opinions regarding his contradictions – ranging from bullshit like "manipulation" and the possibility that he was straight up lying.
Allow me to throw my own two cents in –
To put it simply, Wilbur is very conflicted as of now.
The biggest example of this is his conflicting feelings about Dream. Logically, Wilbur should and would hate Dream for what he did to Tommy during exile – even so far as to expressing wanting to disembowel him.
However, that hate towards clashes against how he views him. It's possible Wilbur could feel like he owes Dream some sort of gratitude. I mean, why wouldn't you be eternally grateful towards the person who saved you from your personal hell? Not only that, but while Wilbur may not necessarily like Dream – it's evident that he respects Dream.
Remember how I said Wilbur's headspace was equivalent to scrambled eggs? That heavily applies regarding his contradictions. If his thoughts are scrambled, his speech wouldn't be any better now, would it?
Revivedbur tends to think out loud. He says whatever is on his mind, generally has a bad brain to mouth filter, and has difficulty properly articulating himself and what he means, thus resulting in something completely different in what he says.
A big example of this is the comments regarding L'manburg;
“Tommy, I’ve made an oath of not lying now that I’m alive again. So I’m gonna come clean to you with the truth. Uh…one thing, I didn’t actually care about L’manburg, I just cared about – you know, sticking it to the man. Actually, I cared about L’manburg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man. You ever sticked it to the man, Tommy?”
While I wasn't able to find all of the transcriptions, I found the most important one.
Wilbur never cared about L'manburg? Absolute bullshit. Wilbur loved that nation with every fiber of his being! he cried for that nation! He bled for that nation!
Truth be told I had to think about this quote for days, despite having the answer all along.
Wilbur never cared about L'manburg's land, he cared about the people and what it stood for.
He never cared about the van, he cared about the fond memories of his brother tied to it. He never cared about the walls, he cared about the effort of a friend joining a cause. He never cared about the land, he cared about the people who built that land.
It didn't matter what land it stood on, its name, or even its flag – it was the people who put their heart into it.
Wilbur never blew up L'manburg, Wilbur only blew up its remains.
So this is where I come back to – "Revivedbur has difficulty properly articulating himself and what he means, thus resulting in something completely different in what he says." –
“Uh…one thing, I didn’t actually care about L’manburg, I just cared about – you know, sticking it to the man. Actually, I cared about L’manburg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man. You ever sticked it to the man, Tommy?”
"I never cared for the land L'manburg was on, I cared about the ideals it stood for. I cared about challenging an oppressive authority for our rightful and deserved freedom. Actually, I cared about L'manburg for the sole reason it was a revolution."
Take that with a grain of salt. But I think this is closer to what he actually meant.
“L’manburg was a tool. It was a great tool, it worked, you know. It divided so many people, man (. . .)”
I'm bringing this quote as another example of Wilbur's silly little scrambled eggs brain. But this. This was the one that stumped me.
L'manburg was a tool, huh? Tool for what? "Sticking it to the man"? Well, we all know what that's supposed to entail.
It divided so many people? Well, Wilbur created a side in the first place – his side – or perhaps he is referring to the electoral fallout?
I think this line specifically is an example of not only his poor wording, but his tendency to speak out loud and say whatever he has on his conflicted mind through his awful filter.
I think this line might be from a place where he was negatively thinking about L'manburg in the moment.
It's no secret Wilbur lost hope and declared L'manburg dead in his eyes down along the line – who's to say he wouldn't switch back to a similar mindset with his jumbled headspace?
 “I’ve seen it all, you’ve had your little strifes – this isn’t the first, right, Tommy. Tommy, do you remember when you got sent into exile? Yeah, I remember. I was there, Tommy. I was there. I was there – I was in the cage of that little ghost’s fucking head. Every single step you and me took – look at me, Tommy, look me in the eyes – every single step me and you took, I was there – I was there! I had no control of what was happening, I’ve no idea what was being said, but Tommy – I’ll tell you what – if I was there, and it wasn’t that stupid shell of a ghost instead of me…I would’ve struck down Dream right where he stood. We would’ve disemboweled him. We would’ve disemboweled him together.”
“Tommy, I’m not – I wasn’t blind, I saw what he was doing to you, Tommy. I saw. I saw what he was doing to Tubbo – I saw what he was doing to me. (. . .)”
So I'm gonna be going back to his views on Dream for a moment.
These lines strike me as genuine. Not only because it was confirmed that Wilbur really was angry at Dream's treatment of Tommy – But there's also something I haven't mentioned regarding this;
Tone.
Y'all ever notice how Wilbur switches his tone – actually, his entire demeanor – depending on his genuinity?
A big example of this is the contrast of how Wilbur acted around Tommy most of the stream – with a loud, cocky and confident persona. But the moment he was alone, he switched into a quiet, somber, burdened man.
"He's a good kid. He's a good kid."
It's about the little things, innit.
“But you know what, Tommy? I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there, was I. We had Ghostbur. Ghostbur was there instead, right. And you know what the issue is, you know what the issue is? After seeing Ghostbur interact with Dream, I realized that no, Dream is not the enemy – Dream is not the enemy!”
“This world was not supposed to be inhabited by a people of this caliber – Dream is the hero! Dream needs to be let out of here! Dream’s not in prison for being a horrible person, Dream’s in prison because he dared to try and stop you all. He dared to try and stop you all from gaining all this power, because the minute I was gone, there was a vacuum, there was opening, and everyone just seeked to get in there! And Dream was the only one who stood up to them and told them not to, Dream was the only one who held my seat for me. He held my – he kept it warm! He kept my throne warm, and you guys didn’t like that, so you threw him in prison! And if Dream died instead of me, I would be in there right now.”
“So Tommy, you should thank that I wasn’t alive to attack Dream when we got exiled! You should be glad we had little, passive Ghostbur, because now Dream’s in there, and I’m out here, baby.”
And this is where he switches again, and the contradiction occurs. I've already went through this above, but I'll point out that Wilbur seems to have a very flawed thought pattern here.
This is where his flawed ideals of literary titles kick in once more. Wilbur seems to believe that Dream took his place as the story's villain – therefore "keeping his throne warm."
He also makes incorrect assumptions he genuinely believes are true. Such as his belief that by some logic, he was supposed to end up in the prison; and that the events that occurred he deemed as necessary and ultimately "the best route" – as he's out, and Dream's in. Or the insistance that he and Tommy would've been exiled together.
It's just another example of his flawed thought process and how jumbled up that silly little mentally ill noggin of his is.
And while I can sit here all day trying to rationalize and pick apart quote after quote like a madman, I'm pretty sure you've got the gist of it.
Wait. Holy shit you read all of that? Damn. Poggers.
Take this with a grain of salt!! This is just my silly little interpretations of this god damn nightmare of a stream. I'm open to any add ons!!!
That being said. I am going to lie down. Holy shit. Holy shit it's done I can rest.
You've come far, dear traveller – take a them as a reward.
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unabashegirl · 5 months ago
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Enticing 2 (HS)
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Summary: Harry Styles is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn’t until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry’s girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver’s mother? Where is she? Who is she?
Author's note: Hope you like it! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST!
Word count: 4.3K
Warnings: sweating
Tags: @brockdolan, @harrysonlyangelxx, @harrystylesstiddiez
masterlist
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The apartment was quiet and tranquil by the time that Harry arrived from work that afternoon. He had been worried sick most of the day. He had even imagined millions of scenarios in his head that usually ended with him finding out that Oliver had gotten hurt by negligence from Y/N. He was followed by Andrew, who carried his brand-new suit for tonight’s gala and a few documents that they wanted to go over. Driven by his anxiousness Harry had just opted to bring the work home.
“I’ll be right back” He hung his blazer on a kitchen stool before running upstairs to check on them. He gently pushed Oliver’s semi-opened door and peeked in. The white noise machine and the standing lamp by the feeding chair were on. It illuminated the room with the appropriate amount of light enough to see but low enough to not interrupt Oliver’s precious sleep. Surprisingly the nanny wasn’t present and since his son was still sleeping, he decided to leave the door just as he found it and go on a search for her.
“Ms. Y/L/N?” Harry called out as he made sure to look through all of the rooms on the second floor of the apartment before heading downstairs. He even checks his own bedroom and hopes that she hasn’t had the audacity to have fallen asleep on her boss’s bed. “Have you seen her?” He asked as he walked past Andrew on the ground floor.
He finds her in the formal dining room with her head down and her attention focused on some type of journal. The baby monitor was close by to her giving her a perfect view of Oliver, meaning that she had not only heard him but had seen him.
“Ms. Y/L/N” She greeted him with a warm smile. She remained quiet and pressed her index finger against her lips, basically shushing her boss.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Styles” Her hair was up, gathered on a loose and messy ponytail. A few strands of her face fell around her face, framing her face and giving him a chance to admire her flawless complexion. This morning he had been in such a rush that he hadn’t noticed the extent of her beauty.
“Did you not hear me before?” Harry settled on the chair by the head of the table. His hands began the everyday job of untying his tie and unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt and cuffs. He was tired and he couldn’t understand why he had agreed to attend the gala with Valeria. He would prefer to stay home and watch a movie in the comfort of his home. She had been texting all day for updates on his day. She had also wanted to color coordinate her dress with his suit. He hated doing so and hated couples that went to the extent of doing so. It always looked like they were trying too hard to seem compatible.
“Not really. I was distracted with this” She gestured towards her journal as he folded up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“And what are you doin’? “ He leaned over the corner, stretching his neck out in an attempt to get a glimpse of what she had written. “Also, why are we whispering?”
“Oliver’s room is right above us” Harry leaned back on his seat, trying to hide the small smile that her innocent and sweet assumption had managed to give him.
“All the walls in his apartment are soundproof and so are the windows, Ms. Y/L/N. It helps to keep the city’s noise pollution out. It was on my must list when I bought the apartment. He can’t hear a thing” She felt silly. It was a given. She held herself back from rolling her eyes at him. She clearly still couldn’t understand the magnitude of his fortune. “Now you were about to tell me what you were writing”.
“I first wanted to ask you if you had a specific sleeping or feeding schedule for Oliver. A schedule that you would like me to keep” She had been guessing his schedule all day since Harry had left her without many instructions. Based on her observations throughout the day, she knew he didn’t because Oliver kept falling asleep at awkward hours of the day.
“No, why do you ask?” Y/N slides her journal to him. “From now on this is Oliver’s schedule. He needs to be on it from now on. This had to be followed every single day until he turns four months. We will then readjust it to his age”.
“Alright,” He was surprised. This explained why he had been getting up multiple times at night with Oliver. It also explained by it was always so hard to put him back to sleep.
“I am assuming that you haven’t been sleeping well. It’s because of this. He is sleeping too much throughout the day and at night he wants to be up, hanging out with dad” The thought of Oliver wanting to hang out with him warmed his heart. He couldn’t wait until he was old enough to take him places and enjoy quality time with him.
“Thank you”
“This is what you hired me for” She smiled, closing her journal. “I’ll type it out tomorrow and print it out tomorrow. Is there anything else? That I should know about the job?”
“Oh! I forgot” He had brought her contract from the office. “Andrew, can you bring me Ms. Y/L/N contract please” Harry called out to him as he sat up straight. Daniel rushed into the room with a manila envelope and a pen. “This is Andrew, Ms. Y/L/N. He is my assistant”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you” She waved and smiled at him before drifting her attention back to Harry.
“Here it is. Please read it over carefully and sign it” Meanwhile, Harry went to the kitchen to get himself and Andrew a glass of wine and snacks. She diligently read it over and kept going back to the part that her salary was established. She couldn’t believe how much Harry was willing to pay her to be Oliver’s nanny. The contract required her to stay overnight every day except for the weekends when she could do as she pleased. She didn’t have a problem with it knowing that Oliver needed lots of attention. Y/N was also required to use the phone and car provided by Harry. She was also asked to travel with him, and Oliver whenever needed, especially on the holidays.
None of the requirements were farfetched or outrageous. She had heard plenty of horror stories from her nanny friends who also worked for privileged families in NYC. Harry wasn’t deranged like them.
By the time that she had finished it and signed it, Harry had come back with a bowl of peanuts and two glasses, and a red wine bottle.
“Perfect” Harry mumbled to himself as he signed. “Any questions or concerns?”
“Yes, about the car. Why can’t I use mine?”
“I want my son to be safe, Ms. Y/L/N. Daniel checks the cars weekly making sure that they are up to date. I trust Daniel with my eyes closed and I feel safer knowing that Oliver is on one of those cars” She found it sweet. From the exterior, he seemed like the usual rich boy, surrounded by hundreds of women but tied with a son. Y/N could see that he enjoyed being a father and that he actually cared. He didn’t take care of Oliver just because he had an obligation but because he wanted the best for him. “The phone is already set up. It has all my phone numbers including the office extension. It has Daniel’s and Mrs. Johnson’s too. It additionally has some of my family members in case of an emergency. Oliver’s pediatrician number and Andrew’s phone number are there too just in case you can’t reach me or need anything that he can facilitate you with”
“Ok. Thank you” Harry nodded along as he went over his mental checklist of things he had to go over. “When would you like me to move in?” Harry had completely forgotten to mention it this morning. He had expected her to have already moved in.
“I was hoping you could spend the night. I have a charity gala to attend tonight, and someone needs to watch Oliver. But I’ll get Daniel to help you move all of your belongings tomorrow morning.
“That’s fine” It was hard to believe that she was so unbelievably kind and understanding. He had found the whole process extremely simple. She hadn’t asked for outrageous things and had complied with everything without any fuss. “If that is all; I have to wake up Oliver” She announced, rising from her seat.
“Oh, let me show you to your room” Harry led the way and she trailed behind him, noticing his broad back and the way his thin and expensive dress shirt hugged his toned torso. He was exquisite beyond any of the men that she has come across. It wasn’t only his good looks that captured her attention but the way he carried himself.
Harry had asked Mrs. Johnson to prepare the room across from Oliver’s for Y/N. She had changed the sheets, the towels, had cleaned every surface, and had added brand new candles.
“This is it. I hope it’s to your liking” He said before revealing the beautiful room. It is the room that gets the most natural light in the apartment. The room had a perfect view of the notorious New York City skyline. It was immense and it was decorated with different shades of grey and off-whites and went along with the rest of the apartment.
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She was the first to walk in, careful not to stain or ruin anything that could change the scenery and the orneriness of the bedroom. Y/N is first lured to the window, mesmerized by the beauty and the perfect view that gave her of the Chrysler building. The sun was moments from setting behind the city causing the relaxation of the warm-toned run rays.
Harry stood back and observed her from a distance. He was captivated by her astonishment. He was once like her. Surprised and excited about the little things and comfort that money could provide him with, like the breathtaking views and scenery. He, unfortunately, had grown used to a life full of luxuries, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t refreshing to meet someone who still was captivated by it.
“It’s gorgeous” she managed to say as she watched the sun setting on the horizon. “Are you sure, Mr. Styles? Don’t you think this room is a bit too much?” Harry chuckled and walked up to her. He stood by her with his hands tucked in his pockets as he watched how minuscule the people looked and how they managed to look like tiny ants trying to get back home.
“I am sure, Ms. Y/L/N. One of us has to enjoy the view and Oliver is still far too young and I am so sure that you will enjoy it the most” He explained.
“Thank you again for the opportunity” Harry nodded along as he guided her towards the bathroom and closet to show her. “I should really wake up Oliver. It is his time to be fed” She insisted as they walked past his bedroom door.
Harry stood back, wanting to watch her interaction with him. She stopped the white noise machine and opened the blinds in hopes to catch a bit of what was left of the natural light. Y/N tenderly caressed his tummy knowing that he wasn’t going to be happy. She had been struggling to get him into the correct schedule all day. And in order for her to do so, she needed to disrupt his current one. As soon as his eyes fluttered open, his lips quivered, and a loud cry busted out.
“I am so so sorry, baby” Y/N cooed as she took him into her arms. She kissed her forehead as she tried to soothe him why swaying him. “I am a big meanie, aren’t I?” It took her few minutes, but Oliver finally settles down and she is able to wipe a few tears off his tiny face. “Look! Who is that?” Y/N pointed to Harry who leaned against the frame of the door. “It’s daddy” He smiled, realizing the family face of his dad.
“Harry!” Valeria's shout from downstairs interrupted Harry from wrapping his arms around his son. Oliver is startled and caused to break out into a loud cry again. Harry had told her multiple times to never scream within the apartment. Not only her voice helped induced his headache but it scared Oliver. His home wasn’t a market. He shamefully smiled at Y/N before heading downstairs. He was beyond embarrassed. Harry was also confused as to why she was at his. They were supposed to meet at the gala.
“There you are!” Valeria McCoy smiled at the young billionaire as he made his way down the steps. His expression clearly showed how annoyed he clearly felt at her showing up without any kind of invitation.
“What are you doing here?” He went straight to the chase. When it came to her Harry felt like he was fighting a mental battle. She was beautiful and there was no denying it. She was the type of woman you see on magazine covers, but beauty has never been enough for Harry. If it came down to beauty, he would have already married. He desired a partner that kept him on his toes. He wanted someone who he could sit with for hours and talk nonstop. He was in search of someone with whom he can grow old and intellectually. And Valeria McCoy certainly wasn’t that type of woman.
“I thought we could get ready together. I’ll be more fun” On the other hand, Harry was everything that Valeria had ever wished for and more. He was elegant, educated, poised, wealthy, and smart. Harry is the only man she knew that could afford her type of lifestyle. He was the only person who can keep up with the expenses that came with the multiple shopping trips and trips. Aside from her father of course. Mr. McCoy had planned on retiring soon. He was ready to hand off the family business to an heir, to one of his daughters. The only problem was that none of them were capable of sustaining the company.
Y/N’s first thought was that the strange woman was Oliver’s mother. She quietly walked downstairs not wanting to interrupt their conversation.
“Thank God!” Valeria exhaled in exasperation noticing Y/N’s presence. “Here” She threw her long gown at her and attempts to hand her the bag that contained all her beauty products. “Steam the dress and leave the bag in Harry’s bathroom” Y/N silently stood back, surprised at the woman’s behavior. She handed her back her dress before continuing her way into the kitchen. Y/N had a hungry, crying baby upstairs and she couldn’t be wasting her time with someone like Valeria. Her attitude had instantly bugged her to the core.
“You need a new maid” Valeria whispered to Harry, outraged by the rudeness of the mysterious woman.
“She is not a maid. She is Oliver’s new nanny” Harry chuckled hearing Y/N’s soft laugh coming from the kitchen only encouraging him to laugh harder at Valeria. She purged her lips at Harry. She was clearly not amused and wished that Harry wasn’t either. It felt like they were both ganging up on her.
Y/N continued preparing Oliver’s bottle in the kitchen and tried her best to not eavesdrop, but she couldn’t hold herself back. The tone that Harry used towards Valeria made her think that they weren’t married or dating. It was harsh and stern when he addressed her. As soon as the bottle was ready, she rushed back upstairs without another word.
“Would you be more comfortable getting ready at your house?” He followed Y/N walk up the stairs with his gaze until she disappeared into Oliver’s room.
“Are you checking out the damn nanny?” Valeria stumped her foot on the ground not believing how evident he had been. He had no shame according to her.
“I wasn’t” Yes, he was. He just wasn’t going to admit it. He knew it would lead to a fight. Valeria led the way to his bedroom, expecting him to follow her. “I need to work on some stuff before the gala” He headed to his home office without caring for her response.
It took them an hour and a half to go over paperwork, but they had finished before Harry had to start getting ready for the gala. Therefore, he went upstairs to Oliver’s room in search of Y/N.
“I am sorry about before, Ms. Y/L/N” He apologized on behalf of Valentina. She sat on the feeding chair with Oliver over her shoulder trying to burp him. She kissed the side of his forehead before looking up at him.
“There is no need for you to apologize, Mr. Styles. Everyone is responsible for their own actions” Harry reached up and touched his own lips, and lightly tugged on his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. It was a habit of his, it helped him think.
The action doesn’t go unperceived by Y/N. It was a simple act, but enough to ignite something within her. Her cheeks flush when his eyes catch her watching his lips if Oliver hadn’t had been on her arms she would have probably bolted out of the room.
“Ms. McCoy and I will be leaving in a few hours. We’ll be back later. I just thought I should let you know” He cleared his throat and stood back up straight.
“No problem. Have a lovely evening” She flashed him a lovely smile before he left them.
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The room at the Metropolitan Museum of Art captivated the elegance and the splendor that the Manhattan elite emitted. All the attendees dressed head to toe in designer clothes. They all huddled up in small groups around the dance floor, gossiping about the rest and commenting on their appearance. The waiters strolled around carrying their drinks and tending to their absurd needs.
“Tell me, how is the business?” Michael Aldridge was one of Harry’s oldest friends. His family was old money and they owned one of the biggest companies of oil in the world.
“Thriving” he answered briefly, but Michael didn’t expect any less from him. Harry doesn’t like sharing details about his company, especially when he wasn’t at the office. Harry Styles always kept a distinct separation between his private life and work.
“How is the little man?” Alessandro had attended college with Harry. At one point, they had even been roommates. Alessandro was part of a noble and papal family in Italy. His family focused on fashion. He spent most of the year on a jet, traveling from continent to continent.
“He is at home with the new nanny” He revealed before taking a sip out of his whiskey. The two men had no idea that he had found the replacement attractive. They thought she was just like his previous nanny.
“I need a girlfriend” Michael had been engaged to another heir of an old-money family. He had never cared how much her family had. He had genuinely liked the woman. Things hadn’t worked out because he had caught her cheating. Michael had decided to come home early from a business trip and found them both in bed.
“I can set you up” Harry and Alessandro had taken care of everything after he had broken up the engagement. They made sure that everything was canceled, that the gifts were returned, and that the honeymoon was refunded.
“I don’t want a model” The Italian frowned and tucked his phone away. “I just want to find someone who genuinely loves me for who I am” Harry exhaled loudly, understanding the feeling the same feeling that his friend was describing.
“We’ll find you, someone”
“What are you talking about? You are just as fucked as I am. You are all closed off to the world, Harry” Michael joked as he nudged him.
“S’not true! Jus’ got priorities”
“What about Valeria?” Michael rolled his eyes at Harry.
“She is the worst! She doesn’t count” Alessandro chuckled at his friend as the conversation carried out. Michael made it his mission to keep Harry away from Valeria because her only intention was to parade him around and show him off as a price possession. “It’s like the snack you have before going to dinner. Eases the hunger, but never fully fulfills you”. The men laughed heavily shaking their heads at their friend.
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“Can I please stay over?” Valeria moaned as the elevator arrived on the top floor. It was past midnight and Harry was beyond exhausted. He only wanted to take a hot shower and get some rest.
“I have an early day tomorrow, Valeria” Harry pointed out, noticing the lights from the second floor on. He hoped that Y/N was already asleep and wasn’t struggling to put Oliver to bed. “Daniel is already downstairs waiting for you”.
“Please, Harry. I promise I’ll be nice” She purred while pulling on the collar of his shirt. His hands gripped hers and pulled her off him. The shirt was too expensive to have her handled like that.
“I said no Valeria” She had managed to get drunk at the charity gala. Making a big scene in front of their friends and his business partners. He wanted to wish her farewell and never contact her ever again. This was it.
“Why are you always such a dick, huh?” She is now angry and still very drunk. She balanced herself against the wall of the foyer. “You keep pushing me away. I love you” Valeria exclaimed, “I want the entire world to know. I love you Harry and I want to become your wife!” She yelled only causing Harry’s head to feel heavier. His headache was back, and her voice only made it worst.
“Valeria I am going to ask you one more time to leave,” He said calmly as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You are acting like a kid. Get out”.
“Please H—”
“I SAID NO” He snapped before pressing his phone up to his ear. “Security. I need someone to be escorted out of the building”
“’ If you do this to me, Harry. It’s over”
“Thank you, God!” He chuckled, “Why didn’t you tell me this was all it took!” Harry asked as the elevator arrived revealing the two security men. “Bye,” he smiled and waved at Valeria before turning around and giving his back to her.
She was embarrassingly dragged out of his penthouse and into Daniel’s car. The alcohol certainly didn’t help only causing her to go through all the stages. She cried and yelled the whole twenty minutes to her apartment. Poor Daniel had been tempted to kick her out of the car too.
Before he could head to bed, he heard a door open and shut upstairs. She had a horrible and long night with Oliver. He had been having trouble adjusting to the new schedule. He had already gotten up three times and she had finally settled him down minutes before Harry had arrived.
“You are still up?” He asked as he felt her presence come into the living room where he stood.
“It’s been a rough night” She yawned as she walked past him towards the kitchen.
“I agree” Harry turned to follow her into the kitchen, curious to what she might be up to. “What are you doing?”
“Though I should make myself a cup of tea. Would you want one?” She asked as she took two porcelain cups and started opening the cupboards looking for the tea.
“Yes please,” He chuckled as she struggled to find the tea. She was unfamiliar with the kitchen and couldn’t blame her, but he found it cute. Adorable even. “It’s at the top left” Harry pointed at the cupboard. “How was your night with Oliver?”
“Long to say the least,” She said preparing the hot water. “How was the gala?”
“Terrible” He admitted making her smile a bit. “The company wasn’t the best either” Harry added, running his fingers through his hair.
“Was the food at least good?” Y/N had never been to a fancy event, but she guessed if the food was good, it gave him a reason to endure the long night.
“It wasn’t worth it”
“That’s no good” She giggled as she turned to pour the already hot water on the cups. “Would you like me to make you something to eat, Mr. Styles?”
“Don’t be absurd. You are exhausted. You are already making tea” Y/N nodded handing him a cup of hot tea. “Y’gonna sleep in that?” He asked referring to the same outfit that she had arrived with that morning. He had always hated sleeping in jeans. He found them the most uncomfortable piece of clothing for sleeping.
“I have no other choice” She shrugged as she brought the brim of the cup to her lips.
“I could always lend you something to sleep in” Harry felt shitty for asking her to stay at such short notice. On top of that, his son had kept her up most of the night. Let’s not add Valeria to the night and her inappropriate comments earlier. It was the least he could do.
“Are you sure, Mr. Styles?”
“It’s no problem. Finish your tea” He commanded her as he did the same. Y/N wasted no time washing the cups as soon as they had finished. “Leave that. Come on. It’s late” Harry trailed behind her upstairs. And so, he lent her one of his cotton shirts and a pair of sweatpants that she had to fold up for them to fit. She fell asleep that night comforted by his scent.
367 notes · View notes
asta-lily · 2 months ago
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Things I wish I knew when I started writing
Hey friends, as part of my 800 follower celebration I thought I'd put together this little collection of tips in the hope that it helps someone.
I am by no means an expert and am still learning everyday, but I hope this post can maybe help the new writers, writers thinking about starting, or maybe even already established ones with some of the pitfalls of using Tumblr as your platform - and how to overcome them. I’ll take you through a list of the things I wish I’d known before I started writing and tips for boosting your engagement.
Here’s a taster of what I’ll be going through in this post so that you can decide if it’s worth opening up my keep reading:
Formatting your posts
How Tumblr tags work
Taglist forms (and why you should have one)
Adding Masterlist and Taglist links to your bio
Hey you, who’s thinking of posting/writing their first fic -
For those of you who don’t know me, I haven’t had my blog very long (since February of 21) and making the decision to post my writing was singularly the most nerve wracking but rewarding experience of my year. The confidence, the creative outlet, and the friends I’ve gained through doing this is incredible. So hey you - yeah you, the person reading this sat nervously thinking they’re not good enough to write, or no one will like what they produce - I am here to tell you that you are wrong. You will find your circle, you just have to build it and they will come. So please, take this as your sign to join the fold if you aren’t already convinced, and if you do - I hope this post can help you.
Formatting your posts
There is no right or wrong way to format your posts. However including all of the below will help you, firstly - it's easier and more organised for you. Secondly - These can boost your engagement by being easily interactable for the reader.
Catchy title and accompanying image (images will help boost your engagement as they catch people’s eye by separating it from the walls of text that often appear on the dash).
A summary and warning section (if any warnings apply)
A link to your Masterlist. If you are creating multi-part series you’ll also want a previous or next chapter link as applicable.
Separator images (it can be a thin line or an image on a transparent background) that decorates your post to separate the actual content of your work from the formatting. I always have one at the top of the post under all my warnings, title, masterlist links before the actual writing starts. Then a second before my taglist and any author’s notes.
Add a ‘keep reading’ function (more on that later)
An author’s notes/note section where you can talk about additional details or generally just leave a fun note for your readers.
A section to include your taglist members (if you have them - if you’re just starting out you obviously won’t).
How Tumblr tags work
Ah, Tumblr tags - the beast that never gives up. Here are things to know when adding hashtags to your work:
Note: we are not talking about user tags here, just the hashtags for your actual post.
If you are a relatively new blog, or this is your first post (discounting reblogs) then your fic may take a while to show up in the tags. So don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t appear right away.
Only the first 20 tags you input will actually show in the tag searches. Anything additional is basically just for cosmetics.
Only the first 5 tags show up in tracked tags. For example - If I’m tracking/following the tag Din Djarin x reader, and you have tagged this within the first 5 tags under your work, your post might show up on my dash even if I am not following you. So this is really important to remember.
It goes without saying - don’t use unrelated tags to try and get more reblogs, people will just turn their nose up at you...
Taglist forms (and why you should have one!)
As you start to get some interested readers, I cannot stress enough why you should build a taglist form (google forms is so, so easy to do this in, and is a widely accessible platform for your readers). For any already established writers, if you currently do not have a taglist form - please build one, and I promise you your tag engagement will shoot right through the roof.
People on Tumblr are often shy to ask to be added to your tags, so creating a taglist form gives them a disconnected way to request this where they feel safer engaging with you - hence why you will suddenly see an influx of requests compared to what you would with a manual request system.
I am more than happy to help people out with how to use google forms if you are struggling - just reach out to me!
Adding a masterlist/taglist link to your bio
Now I’m not gonna pretend I know what any of this code means, but hey - it works for me.
To add a Masterlist or Taglist link to your bio so that people can see it as soon as they pop on your blog is quite simple (or at least if you don’t try to get caught up in it too much and just follow the instructions).
Note: This has to be done on a PC - it cannot be done on the mobile app.
Open up your blog page and enter the editor.
On the left hand side is your bio space, it will have the header of ‘description’. This is where we’ll be posting our code into.
Post the below code into the description box - with the post link to your masterlist embedded:
<a href="INSERT YOUR MASTERLIST LINK IN HERE">| Masterlist |</a>
For your taglist similarly you post the below code into the description box - with the link to your google form taglist embedded:
<a href="INSERT TAGLIST LINK IN HERE">| Taglist |</a>
Note - you can also edit the titles of both links, where it says Masterlist or Taglist - to whatever you want them to say, this will be what appears on your blog for the reader click on. If you want help doing this or customising it please reach out to me and I’ll be happy to help!
So as an example here is what my code looks like:
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And here is how it looks on my blog:
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Other notes:
Reblogging your own work:
Let’s be honest with ourselves and say that notes also matter. The engagement in your work is what will keep you going as a writer whether you like it or not, it’s impossible for it not to be a motivator when writing takes so much time and effort - we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t have the reblogs, or likes etc.
All of that being said. Don’t chase engagement consistently - apply the little tricks that will help, but don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t come right away. Oftentimes the notes are reflective of circumstance rather than your talent E.G: what time you posted, who was online at the time, how many other people were posting at that time (it could have gotten buried on a heavy dash or full tag for example), who reblogged it, and so on.
So - don’t be afraid to reblog your own work. The next morning/The day after/ A month after - go for it. Get it recirculating. All it takes is for one blog to pick it up and have their reblog start a cascade of people going ‘ooh this looks tasty’.
Adding readmore’s/keep reading panes:
It is so important to always add a keep reading/readmore function to your pieces of writing, for two reasons:
If your writing contains content not appropriate for minors, they can see the warnings and scroll on without having to be exposed to any smut whilst scrolling the tags.
Secondly, people do not want to scroll through a 4K word fic on their dash in the morning and will likely unfollow you in annoyance if you don’t add a cut.
Doing this on PC is pretty easy (the 3 little dots in the editor will add a cut for you).
If you’re using the mobile app (like I do) you can add a cut by typing the below and hitting enter on your phone keyboard - make sure your keyboard doesn’t auto correct the text to have a space between the words, or it won’t work.
:readmore:
A note on plagiarism and inspiration:
If you are here to take someone else’s work verbatim and repost it in the hope of obtaining notes and quick popularity - please see yourself out. This is morally wrong and lazy and if this is your attitude to writing you do not deserve a platform. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE.
You can be inspired by another author’s work without ripping them off completely, but please reach out to the author first and ask if they mind you writing a little something based on ‘X’ and that you’ll credit their work for the brilliance that it did by inspiring you.
Also if you are bouncing ideas around off other people/friends/mutuals and they've contributed some important ideas that you are going to use, I think that its polite etiquette to give them a little shout-out in your posted work and say ‘Hey, thank you so much to X Y and Z for helping me bounce ideas off their beautiful brains’.
So basically - just don’t be a dick, okay? Okay - I’m glad we agree, I knew you would.
If there is anything in this post that hasn’t quite made sense that you want more advice on, or any other things you think I’ve missed and should add - please reach out to me so that I can tweak this!
208 notes · View notes
cellotonin · 11 months ago
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sticky binds | h. sero
10/01 ➼ shibari
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⤷ { after enough practice with shibari, you convince sero to try using his tape to tie you up instead. things get sticky really quickly, but sero discovers that you quite like it that way. }
word count: 1.8k
tags/warnings: 18+, smut i mean,,, idk what u expected LMAO, bondage, shibari, suspension, the tiniest hint of masochism, female!reader (i promise i’ll get better at gn!reader smut 🥺)
possible tw: none (that i can think of)
a/n: alrighty,,,,,, we are officially getting started with kinktober and i can safely say that i am nervous aS FUCK,,, to think this is my first time writing pwp and i immediately go “ok but what if i wrote 31 in a row :D” like pls save me kjdckjdcfkjgbh uM,,,,, but yeah anyways let’s start this off with the best boy sero hanta and no that is non-negotiable 🥰 hope y’all enjoy !!
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“Alright, I’m gonna ask you one last time, and I need you to be completely honest with me. Are you sure you’re okay—”
“Yes, Hanta, I’m okay with you tying me up with your tape. I was okay with it the last five times you asked, and I’m still okay with it now.” You interrupt his question before he can finish, slightly shifting in your semi-bound state. Long, thin strands of his tape currently decorate your skin like art on a canvas, hugging every dip and curve of your body as they fasten your heels under your hips and your arms behind your back.
Hanta lets out a huff as he reluctantly continues to weave his tape between and around your wrists, gently tugging at it until you can no longer wiggle free. “I know. I just - I’m just worried about the tape sticking too much, and since you’re gonna be basically hanging from the ceiling, I was just—”
“Ask me one more time.” The raw frustration from the lack of attention between your thighs rumbles through your core and into the warning tone of your voice. You’ve always appreciated how caring he is, constantly checking in to make sure that you’re doing okay. Right now, though, all you need is for Hanta to be buried inside you, to reduce you to nothing but a moaning mess. But the more he keeps talking, the longer you have to wait, and your patience is rapidly dwindling.
“Okay, okay, I hear you.” You almost feel yourself relax when he finishes the final knot on your wrists, completing the intricate design he’s created with his tape. “Alright, now for the finishing touch. Ready?”
You nod eagerly as he shoots a few strings of tape at the ceiling, lining up perfectly to hold your body up in a balanced position. With a playful tap against your thighs, you immediately oblige and roll onto your back so he can hoist you up with less difficulty. A quiet gasp subconsciously escapes from your lips as you feel your back lift off of the mattress into an arch. Hanta tugs at the tape a little more, securing it to your stomach with a couple of knots before moving on to the rest. Before long, the remaining strips of tape from the ceiling are tautly fixed to the rest of your body, keeping you from tilting too far forward or too far back. In your suspended form, all of your control has been completely relinquished to Hanta, leaving you entirely at his mercy. The mere thought of him having the ability to do whatever he pleases sends a wave of heat straight to your core, and your desperation for stimulation multiplies tenfold.
“I’m not gonna lie, you look really hot tied up like that,” Hanta finally says again. “All wrapped up like a pretty little present just for me, waiting for me to do whatever I want with you~” A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his fingers gently skim down your chest, circling around your stomach before lifting off at your pelvis.
It’s almost impossible to respond properly when your entire mind is focused on how badly you need him, only worsened by his sultry tone as his fingers continue to dance across your body, everywhere but where you want them. “Shit… Hanta please…” you murmur in a hushed voice.
Hanta leans over your figure, flashing you the charming grin that you never fail to fall for. “How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, reaching out to wipe a stray hair from your face.
“I’m… really fucking horny right now…” you admit without shame, briefly squirming in your restraints.
He laughs at your reply. “No doubt. Guess I’ll just have to do something about that, won’t I?” he returns, planting a light kiss on the bridge of your nose before redirecting his attention to the lower half of your body. “Now, now, what to do…”
Two fingers brush past your slit and you nearly jolt at the sudden sensation, causing your body to rock back and forth a little. “Shit… I need you, Hanta,” you whine, attempting to push yourself against his fingers for more friction.
“I know, baby. We’re getting there, don’t worry.” Much to your relief, he doesn’t spend too much time teasing you as he normally would, allowing his fingers to slide into you with ease.
The loud moan that rips from your throat as he curls them inside you is almost embarrassing. Your back arches even further as your walls suck his fingers further in. But it still isn’t enough. You still need more. “Hanta, please don’t… I need you so bad…”
Hanta quirks an eyebrow upward, and you can’t help but whine when he stills his fingers. “You sure?”
You don’t miss the teasing undertone in his voice when he asks, but you really don’t have the patience to feel flustered. “I’ve been absolutely soaked ever since you started interrogating me about my comfort with bondage. I think I’m ready,” you quip back with a smirk.
“I’d watch my tone if I were you,” Hanta tuts, pulling his fingers out of your cunt with the softest pop. “Don’t forget who has control right now, princess. I could easily leave you like this and walk away~”
Your eyes narrow as you cast a weak glare at him. “You wouldn’t.”
He lets out a low chuckle, lightly grinding his hips against yours. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I could never leave my pretty little gift unsatisfied. So let me give you what you want, yeah?”
“Please.” It’s a little harder to nod in your position, but you manage to do so with such vigor that it rouses another laugh out of him.
“Alright, baby. I got you.” That’s your final warning before he slowly pushes into you, finally giving you the fill you’ve been longing for all evening. 
“Fuck… Hanta…” A contented moan falls from your lips as you eagerly take him in, and your eyes squeeze shut while you relish the satisfactory feeling of his cock stretching you out.
Hanta quietly groans in response, fingers firmly gripping your waist as he slowly pulls out to repeat the motion. “That feel good, baby?” He asks again as he gently begins to rub small circles around your hip bones.
“Yes, so good…” Your answer is breathy and slightly slurred as if you’ve been put under a spell, all rational thought clouded by the feeling of your walls stretching and adapting to his size as he continues to thrust into you. “Please don’t stop…”
“I wouldn’t dream of it~” He detects your silent plea to pick up the pace, and without further warning his speed nearly doubles, skin slapping against yours and pulling moans from your throat that spike in volume as your thighs begin to quiver.
In your suspended form, Hanta only needs a few thrusts to find your g-spot with little difficulty. A sharp cry promptly escapes from you as the pleasure ripples from your core through the rest of your trembling body. “Oh fuck - right there, Hanta,” you plead. Tears nearly prick your eyes as you struggle to gain even the slightest bit of control, just enough to reach up and pull him closer. All of it is to no avail, his tape far too sturdy to give you more than a few centimeters of wiggle room. 
“Are you close, princess? Gonna cum for me soon?”
You eagerly nod in response to his question. “Yes - oh god… I’m so close…” Your thighs subconsciously attempt to close, overwhelmed from the stimulation pulsating through your lower abdomen. 
Hanta notices and quickly moves his hands to keep your legs apart, never shying away from his pace. “I’m right behind you, baby. Come on… cum real good for me, (Y/N).”
The instant his thumb finds its way to your clit and presses against it, the coil in your pelvis snaps. “Fuck, I’m—” You can barely finish your sentence as your cunt begins to convulse, and your cries break into shaky gasps as you struggle to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head.
“Shit, you’re so good…” Hanta’s own climax shortly follows suit, and he continues to massage his fingers into your sides as he gently coaxes you down from your high. “You’re so perfect~”
“Oh my god… that was insane…” You finally manage to speak as your breathing gradually returns to normal.
Hanta slowly pulls out of you as he begins to detach the strands of tape from the ceiling. His arms wrap securely around your body, almost cradling you as he lowers you back to the bed. “It sure was. You’re usually too stubborn to cum that quickly.”
“Shut up, you’re so damn annoying,” you huff, making a futile attempt to kick him despite still being held back by your restraints.
“And you’re so damn cute~” Hanta laughs at your pout, leaning over to press a brief kiss against your lips.
“Can you just untie me already?”
“Okay, okay! But - um… this might hurt a bit.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “Why? What do you mean?”
Hanta juts out his bottom lip. “Well… the tape’s kinda stuck on you now… It’s not gonna be too fun taking it off.”
You pause, taking a moment to process his words. As soon as it sinks in, you let out a groan. “Shit… well, that’s what I get for being too horny to take that into consideration,” you sigh, curling your lips into a frown.
“I can go slow? Take it one at a time?” Hanta offers, but you shake your head.
“Nah, just rip it off like a band-aid. The faster we go the less torment it is,” you insist again, rolling over so he has access to your wrists.
Hanta hums with hesitation. “Well, if you say so.” He undoes the knot at your wrists before pausing again. “Alright, first one. Get ready.”
You nod and close your eyes tightly, preparing yourself for the sting. Just as you take a deep breath, Hanta rips the first strip of tape from your arms. But the noise that comes out of your mouth isn’t exactly what you braced yourself for.
“Uh - was that a moan?”
“I…” You stutter, but quickly give up on attempting to reason. “You know what - I can’t even deny it.”
Hanta snickers, balling up the freed piece of tape and tossing it into the trashcan. “I think you just awakened a sadistic side I didn’t even know I had.”
“Oh? Freaky~”
“Says the one who got turned back on after I ripped a piece of tape off of you.”
“I - fair enough. Just get the rest off of me.” You let out a playful huff as you roll your eyes, bracing yourself for the next strip to be pulled off.
He lets out a hum and grabs onto the tape. “Alright, but try not to be too into it, or you just might convince me to tie you right back up for round two~”
“Hanta, I swear—”
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the-illuminated-witch · 11 months ago
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Witchcraft and Activism
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The word “witch” is a politically charged label. If we look at how the word was used historically, it referred to someone who existed outside of the normal social order. The people accused of witchcraft in the European and American witch trials were mostly — experts say between 75% and 80% — women. They were also overwhelmingly poor, single, or members of a minority ethnicity and/or religion. In other words, they were people who did not follow their society’s accepted model of womanhood (or, in the case of accused men, manhood).
If you choose to identify with the witch label, you are choosing to identify with subversion of gender norms, resistance to the dominant social order, and “outsider” status. If that makes you uncomfortable or uneasy, then you may want to use another label for your magical practice. Witchcraft always has been and always will be inherently political.
In her book Witches, Sluts, Feminists, Kristen J. Sollee argues that the “slut” label is in many ways a modern equivalent to the “witch” label. In both cases, the label is used to devalue people, most often women, and to enforce a patriarchal and misogynist social order.
Superstitions around witchcraft are connected to the modern stigma around abortion (and, to a lesser extent, contraception). Midwifery and abortion were directly linked to witchcraft in the European witch hunts. Today, women who seek abortions are condemned as sluts, whores, and murderers. The fight for reproductive freedom remains inextricably linked with the witch label.
During the women’s liberation movement of the 1960s, the socialist feminist group Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (W.I.T.C.H.) used the image of the witch to campaign for women’s rights and other social issues. They were some of the first advocates for intersectional feminism (feminist activism that addresses other social issues that overlap with gendered issues). They performed acts such as hexing Wall Street capitalists and wearing black veils to protest bridal fairs. The W.I.T.C.H. Manifesto calls witches the “original guerrillas and resistance fighters against oppression.”
In her book Revolutionary Witchcraft, Sarah Lyons points out that both witchcraft and politics are about raising and directing power in the world. In a postmodern society, most of our reality is socially constructed — it works because we collectively believe it does. Money only has value because we believe it does. Politicians only have power because we believe they do. Our laws are only just because we believe they are. Like in magic, everything in society is a product of belief and a whole lot of willpower — and that makes witches the ideal social activists.
Lyons argues that witchcraft is inseparable from politics, because witches have always opposed dominant political power. She makes a connection between the witch trials and the rise of capitalism and classism. She connects the basic concepts of magic to historic activist groups like the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), who used ritual as an act of protest.
Not every witch is a hardcore activist, but every witch should have a basic awareness of political and social issues and be willing to do what they can to make a difference.
Ways to Combine Witchcraft and Activism
Perform a ritual to feel connected to the earth and her people. Activism should come from a place of love, not a place of hate. Make sure you’re fighting for the right reasons by frequently taking time to reconnect with the planet and the people who live here. This can be as simple as laying down on the ground outside and meditating on all the ways you are connected to other people, as well as to the ecosystem, animals, and the earth herself. If getting up close and personal with the grass and dirt isn’t your thing, try to find a beautiful place in nature where you can sit and journal about the interconnected nature of all things.
Unlearn your social programming. This is the most difficult and most important part of any activism. Before you can change the world outside yourself, you have to change your own psyche. Think about how you have been socialized to contribute to (or at least turn a blind eye to) the issues you want to fight against. For example, if you want to fight for racial justice, you need to understand how you have contributed to a racist system. You can do this in a variety of ways: through meditation, journaling, or divination, to name a few. Note that whatever method you choose, this will probably take weeks or months of repeated work. Rewriting your thought and behavior patterns is hard, and it can’t be done in a single day. Also note that if you are a victim of systemic oppression or prejudice, this work may bring up a lot of emotional baggage — you may want to involve a professional therapist or counselor.
Go to protests. Sending energy and doing healing rituals is great, but someone has to get out there and visibly fight for change. If you are able to do so, start going to protests and rallies for causes you care about. Don’t just show up, but be an active participant — make signs, yell and chant, and stand your ground if cops show up. Be safe and responsible, but be loud and assertive, too. If you want to go all out, you can don the black robes, pointed hats, and veils of W.I.T.C.H.es past, which has the added bonus of concealing your identity.
Turn your donations into a spell for change. When you donate to a cause you care about, charge your donation with a spell for positive change. You can do this by holding your cash, check, or debit card in both hands and focusing on your desire for change. Feel this desire flowing into the money, filling it with your determination. From here, make your donation, knowing that you’ll be sending an energy boost along with it.
Organize an activist coven. Do you have a handful of friends who are interested in witchcraft, passionate about activism, or both? Start a coven! Go to protests together, hold monthly rituals to raise energy for change, and collect money for donations. Being part of a group also means having a support system, which can help prevent burnout. Make a plan to check on each other regularly. You may even choose to do monthly group rituals for self care, which may be actual magic rituals or might be as simple as ordering takeout and watching a movie. Activism can be intensely draining work, so it’s important to take breaks when you need them!
Hold public rituals with an activist slant. Nothing gets people’s attention like a bunch of folks standing in a circle and chanting. Holding public rituals is one of the best ways to raise awareness for a cause. You might hold a vigil for victims of police brutality, a healing circle for the environment, or some other ritual that is relevant to the issue at hand. These rituals serve a double purpose, as they both bring people’s attention to the issue and give them an opportunity to work for change on a spiritual level. Use prayers, chants, and symbolism that is appropriate to the theme, and ask participants to make a small donation to a charity related to your cause.
Begin your public rituals with a territory acknowledgement. If you live in the United States, chances are you live on land that was taken from the native people by force. If you seek to have a relationship with the land, you need to first acknowledge the original inhabitants and the suffering they endured so you can be there. Use a website like native-land.ca to find out what your land was originally called and what indigenous groups originally lived there. Publicly acknowledge this legacy at your ritual, and publicly state your intention to support indigenous peoples. (Revolutionary Witchcraft has an excellent territory acknowledgement that you can customize for your area.)
Make an altar to your activist ancestors. If activism or membership in a marginalized group is a big part of your life, you may want to create a space for it in your home. Like an ancestor altar, this is a space to remember influential members of the community who have died. Choose a flat surface like a tabletop or shelf and decorate it with photos of your “ancestors,” as well as other appropriate items like flags, pins, stickers, etc. As a queer person, my altar to my LGBTQ+ ancestors might include images of figures like Sappho, Marsha P. Johnson, and Freddie Mercury, as well as items like a pink triangle patch, a small rainbow pride flag, and dried violets and green carnations. You may also choose to include a candle, an incense burner, and/or a small dish for offerings. Just remember to never place images of living people on an altar honoring the dead!
Do your research. Staying educated is an important part of activism — not only do your actions need to be informed, but you need to be able to speak intelligently about your issues. Read the news (on actual news websites, not just social media). Read lots of books; some I personally recommend are Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, Love and Rage by Lama Rod Owens, and (as previously mentioned) Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons. If you can get access to them, read scholarly articles about theories that are influential among activists, like the Gaia Hypothesis or Deep Ecology. Read everything you can get your hands on.
VOTE! And I don’t just mean voting for the presidential candidate you like (or, as is often the case, voting against the one you don’t like). Vote for your representatives. Vote for city council. Vote for the county sheriff. Voting gives you a chance to make sure the people in office will be susceptible to your activism. Yes, your side might lose or your electoral college representative might choose to go against the popular vote. Even so, voting is a way to clearly communicate the will of the people, and it puts a lot of pressure on the people in charge. It’s important — don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.
In my experience, combining activism with my witchcraft is a deeply fulfilling spiritual experience. It strengthens my connection to the world around me, with helps grow both empathy and magical power. I truly can’t imagine my practice without the activist element.
Resources:
Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen J. Sollee
Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons
The Study of Witchcraft by Deborah Lipp
The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith
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