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letorip · 1 day

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i heard your name [ii]

“i want you so, i can hardly let you go, please be mine for a time, now and forever”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after several weeks of trying to run in the opposite direction, you find you can no longer evade the magnetic pull yanking you towards her

warnings: explicit but gender neutral sexual content, being used both physically and emotionally, 'lover boy' is used ironic and is still considered gender neutral, implied teacher-student relationships

word count: 6.4k

A/N: definitely making another already because it’s kind of getting juicy. again inspired by pale fire and hot summer nights.

===+++===

You had always heard that people looked like their pets, but it had never occurred to you that someone could look like their house. Standing in front of Lovell Hill, it was impossible anyone else but Cairo Sweet lived there.

The building stood tall, with white towering ionic columns that reached to hold up the dark clay tile roofing like soft angelic hands lifted to the sky. Everything about the house was big, with a giant, wide cedar porch and a towering balcony that looked out over the small garden in front of its door.

You had figured Cairo was well off from her clothes and general overabundance of education, but this screamed a wealth so extreme it almost wasn’t computing in your brain. Not with your own tawdry house that had only been built two years ago and was about the size of Cairo’s home if you sliced it by a quarter.

You had seen homes like these in movies or on the home improvement channels. Most motels had the home improvement channels on the TV, and you had watched with a sense of awe, sitting on the mouldy carpet late at night with your mom asleep behind you, looking at the muted tours of the homes with a private envy.

Such grandeur was incomprehensible and didn’t exist beyond the screen and TV magic. Or, that’s what you thought until you stood at the end of her garden, with all its greenery and a few lines of flowers, looking up at the front door.

It was quite the dilemma, to knock or not to knock. You could turn around right now, save yourself a whole bunch of sleepless nights and half a brain if you just told her you felt sick and had to cancel. She’d be annoyed, sure, but maybe Cairo being angry was better than Cairo being hungry.

You weren’t all too sure you wouldn’t try to satiate her hunger, and that was a dangerous game to play. Since she had sat down beside you in class, fleeting had been slowly drifting away, and you found yourself clutching onto what little of it you had left, rebuking the witchcraft that seemed to tug you to her.

You were about to do that, walk away, but then the door to the balcony swung open, and out Cairo came, leaning over the railing with a smile, and you felt your own heart clutch to your ribs. She propped her head up on her palm, peering down at you.

“Are you coming in?” She asked, laughing. “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.”

“I’m just looking. At the landscaping,” you called up to her, and it was mostly true, though Cairo laughed like you were being funny. You felt a blush rising to your cheeks. Fleeting, you idiot.

“It’s my parents’ house. I know it’s a bit much,” said Cairo, standing up straighter.

“A bit?” you said, the sarcasm worming its way into your voice. It was a lot much.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling at you again all bright. “A bit.” You smiled back, holding a hand up to cover your eyes so you could continue to stare at her on the balcony in the sun, like your own Juliet.

“Can I come inside?” You asked, taking a few steps forward into the shadow the roof of her house casted over the ground. Cairo seemed to find a playfulness with the question, and you were left there like a moron, wondering why she was laughing again.

“No, actually,” she said. “I invited you here to make you walk over here and then walk home.”

“Did you."

“I did,” she nodded, having fun. “I’ll be down in a minute when I’m done with something; the front door is unlocked."

"That seems unsafe," you said.

She raised her eyebrows at you. "Why, are you worried for my safety?"

You shrugged, deciding neutrality was the best policy. There wasn't anything wrong with saying you were worried about her as a friend, but you knew she would draw some strange entendre. "I would worry about random people wandering in, to be honest."

Cairo shook her head. "Not here in Tennessee. Now go inside. The longer you stall me the longer it takes me to finish what I'm doing." With that, she disappeared back inside, leaving you on her porch. You swallowed the lump in your throat and went inside.

Cairo Sweet's house was much like her soul, in grandeur and in wealth. Even in the foyer, which was where you found yourself, the walls seemed to reach up much like the pillars, raised towards the covered sky. A grand staircase led up to the second floor, and with the soft closing of the door behind you, Cairo called out from up the stairs.

"You can go into the kitchen, I left some wine out on the counter."

You blinked. "Wine?" You said back, making sure you were hearing correctly. Cairo's laugh floated down from the second floor.

"Yes, 'wine.'" You had never had anything like wine before, though the way she threw it out so casually made you think she was no stranger to the concept.

The kitchen was the room right off to the left of the foyer, with a large bay window and some checkered ceramic tiling on the floor. In the centre sat an old gas range stove, a similar shade of green as the walls. The brass handle curved down to the drawer on the bottom, and it looked like a droll little mouth underneath the knobs.

On the white marbled countertop that boxed the stove in was a set of two glasses and a bottle of reddish wine that was three quarters full. The entire room was immaculately clean, with the perfectly angled chairs sitting around the nook table in the corner and the utterly spotless surfaces, both floor and table.

It looked just like those staged houses on the home improvement channels, and you wandered over to peer into the glass hutch, which was piled up with books in stacks around it. The top cabinet held an array of glassware, some of them gathering dust. They were pretty, and you leaned in to the ceramic ones with antique designs etched into the sides. You wanted to own dishes like those, someday.

"The plates are pretty, aren't they? It’s a real shame about the led.” You spun around to find Cairo behind you. Your heart immediately started doing a backflip in your chest. Cairo was no longer in the soft shirt and shorts she had been wearing on her balcony— no. Instead, she was now in a silky cream-coloured dress, one that clung to the curves of her body and hung elegantly from her shoulders in a way that made the tips of your ears warm.

She walked right up to you as if there was no difference, staring at the plate you had been looking at with what couldn't possibly be a genuine curiosity. Up close it was clear she had put on some makeup, her lips glossy and pink and her eyes dark. She had to know she was playing you like a fiddle.

You watched her in laser focus as she nodded at the plate. "My parents bought that one from a village in the Swiss Alps."

"What?" you mumbled, clever as always.

"The plate," she said, like it was obvious. "Most of the plates in there are from Switzerland or China."

"Oh...cool."

Cairo brushed past it, gesturing back to the bottle that sat on the counter. "Would you like some?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

"But what would your parents say?" you asked. Mostly you were looking for any excuse not to, but you were also filled with curiosity. Cairo Sweet hadn't just fallen out of a coconut tree— she was the product of whatever her parents were like and you desired to put two and two together, and for that to make it make sense.

"They're not here right now," she replied, walking right over to the bottle and pulling the cork straight out. You swallowed but followed her over, and Cairo grabbed a glass to pour it into.

"So you live here?" It was a genuine question, and part of you was still struggling to understand that this was just someone's everyday lifestyle. Cairo nodded.

"That's what Winnie asked me too, when she first saw it. People say my house is haunted."

"They do?"

"Yeah," she said. "Lovell Hill. It's famous, or at least around here it is."

"Well... is it true?"

Cairo shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint. Only thing that lives here is me."

"And your parents?"

Her mouth thinned into a line at the question, but she spoke quickly. "Yes, them too." Then Cairo held up a glass. "Would you like some?"

"Uh, no thanks. We should probably start on the assignment...," you trailed off. Cairo was staring you down with a certain glint in her eye. “What?”

"You've never drank before," she said. It wasn't a question, and you could feel heat going back to your face. To any other person, you'd have no problem saying no, but to her you felt your breath catch in your throat.

"Uh, I have, I just don't want any right now," you lied. And Cairo knew you were lying, judging from the smile she watched you with. But she only shrugged.

"You can have some of mine later, then," she said, straightening up and walking out of the kitchen. You followed her like a proper guest, like she was a tour guide helping you through the jungle. You warily tailed her out of there and up the stairs.

On the landing there were even more books, in large, towering stacks near the railing, ended on each side by potted plants and small floor decorations. You stopped, taking a thick paperback from off the top of one stack and turning it over to read the back. “Have you really read all of these?” You asked. Cairo turned.

“Not all of them, no. Most of them belong to my parents, so they’re cheesy spy thrillers and soapy romances.”

You nodded. “My mom reads those ones too.”

“Anyways, what do you read?” Cairo asked, walking over to you and taking the book from your hands to look at it herself. You shrugged.

“For a while there, anything I could get my hands on.”

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, just that my mother didn't take me to bookstores a lot," you said, having gotten comfortable with lying. In reality, you had mostly read travel books and magazines from gas stations, since those were really the only places you and your mother stopped often. You didn't start actually reading book-books until you were about ten, and your mom bought you a kindle for your birthday.

But giving Cairo the truth would mean telling her you were on the road a lot, which would mean telling her about why it was you moved so often, which would mean telling her you would probably be leaving soon, so you lied. It was typically a better idea to vanish without warning one day, off to another state like you had been one giant bad dream.

"Mm," she hummed it agreement, putting the book back down and leading the way into a door that stood at the far end of the hall. "My parents didn't either, when they realised I bought like ten or twelve at a time," she said, tugging you into her bedroom.

It was exactly like you could have imagined it, with a darker shade of green and ebony wainscoting that matched the grand bed in the middle of the room with fluffy, lush bedding and a near mountain of pillows in the centre.

"Well then," Cairo drawled. "Shall we?"

The smirk she was staring at you with sent a shiver down your spine. You gave her a cautious nod and pulled your backpack off of your back.

===+++===

You had your paper almost completely done within an hour of laying down on Cairo's bed to write it, though in the corner where Cairo sat typing hers, she seemed incredibly frustrated. You had only been observing her a little, watching her type what could've maybe been a few words and then immediately holding down the delete key until they were all gone.

You understood to a certain extent— windows were so unbelievably symbolic it was possible to go in millions of directions when writing your story. But you were almost done, and inspiration had hit you from the moment you knew what your symbol was meant to be.

You put the final finishing sentences in where they were meant to go, and put down your pen, sitting up to crack your fingers and stretch your back. Cairo looked up at you, eyes glaring.

"You're finished?" Her tone was sharp, and you looked around the room in surprise.

"Yeah?" You replied. Cairo narrowed her eyes at you.

"How," she demanded sitting up in her chair and slamming her laptop shut.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I kind of rushed it anyhow."

"Let me read it, (Y/n)," Cairo said, holding her hand out. You leaned forwards and tossed the paper to her, rolling over onto your back to stare up at the ceiling while she read it. She had one of those popcorn roofs, with bumps all over it, and you found yourself tracing a little path in your mind.

"This is..." she said after a few minutes. You turned your head to look at her sideways. "This is really good," said Cairo, but in a way that made your eyebrows furrow.

"Why'd you say it like that?" you asked, sitting up from where you had been laying.

"Like what?" She asked standing up from her chair and walking towards you, to lean on one of the bedposts. You swallowed.

"I... don't know," you muttered.

"Hm," she hummed. "I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"The astronaut. The one who goes crazy in outer space from looking out the window on his solo mission. Is that supposed to be you?"

"Oh. No, he isn't. He's just a character I thought of," you shook your head. Cairo raised an eyebrow at you.

"But he is a lot like you, isn't he? Alone, I mean. That's why you lied to Winnie about lunch." She got you with that line. You stared at her, frowning. Your mind screamed LIE over and over, but you knew there was no point. Not when she was reading you like a book. She took another step towards you, until she was standing in between your legs where you sat. You hadn't realised there was any connection with the astronaut when you thought of him, but maybe he was?

"Are you lonely, (Y/n)?"

"No? I mean, I don't think I am." It came out in a whisper; you didn't need to speak loudly when Cairo was so close. You could feel her hot breath on your cheeks like a fan.

"I've been thinking of you, since you arrived," Cairo murmured. Her fingers crawled up your knee slowly, the pads of her fingers brushing the hem of your shorts. She looked down at the small space between you.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"You're captivating," she said. "It's annoying. Shrouded in mystery and answering to no one."

"Yeah?" Pink was flushing towards your cheeks.

She smiled, looking up at your face again. "Yeah. It would be less distracting if you didn't come with such nice eyes."

You swallowed. It felt like everywhere her fingers went she left behind a trail of pure fire, churning up your insides. Your mind was screaming at you to not be an idiot. You'd probably regret this in a month or two when your mom told you you would be leaving again. Stop, right now and save yourself so much sleep, you idiot. That would've been the smart thing to do.

Her hands came up slowly, skimming gently up your neck until they landed at the nape, and you were reminded of the lollipop she had plucked from your lips to place in her own for a moment.

"Cairo, what're we doing?" you managed. Cairo shrugged.

"You ask me that but I'm not entirely sure. I just know it feels nice," she whispered to you. "So shut up and let me feel nice," she said with a smile.

Within an instant, her lips pressed hard into your own. You pulled your head back in surprise but Cairo's soft palms held you firmly where you sat, and you found yourself melting at the feeling. It was messy and it wasn't graceful, but it spoke of the passion that bubbled under Cairo's removed exterior. She started to move against you then, and you against her.

You found yourself entranced at the sensation, and pulled away just to get a look at her face. She was breathing heavily, lips red and eyes wild, and you only came back wanting more, reconnecting the both of you, your hands moving to her waist and then up her back.

"Cairo..." you mumbled, her lips moving to your jaw and then hastily to your ear.

"Mm," she hummed.

"Cairo, I can't," you managed, trying to pull away but finding her still on you. Your mind was yelling at you horrible, horrible things, not only about yourself but about what you wanted to do to her.

"Mm," she sounded again, moving down your neck in a way that left you tingly.

"Really, I just—"

"Take my hands off of you, then," she challenged, in between peppering kisses and sucking on a spot directly over your pulse. You shivered.

"I can't."

"Well, I guess we're at a crossroads," she said. Her right hand slid down your chest to the hem of your shirt, sliding gently underneath and laying itself flat against your stomach. She smirked when she reconnected your lips, knowing she was winning.

"This is a really bad idea."

"You talk too much."

"No, because this is really a conflict of interest. We're supposed to uh..." you stammered, getting distracted by he hand on your stomach slowly getting lower and lower, creeping towards the top of your shorts. "We're supposed read each other's stuff and be honest."

Cairo stopped, pulling away, raising her eyebrows at you. "Are you serious? You don't want to have sex with me —when you've been practically eye-fucking me since we met— so that you can be an honest peer grader???"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"That's because it is stupid."

"I— I just can't do that with someone."

She scoffed. "Are you waiting until marriage or something?"

"No."

"Are you asexual?"

"No."

"Is it Winnie?"

"No."

"Do you like boys?"

"No!"

"Then why? I mean, come on. We both knew this would end one of two ways."

"We're better off as just classmates, trust me."

Cairo blinked at you for a moment, like you were the most confusing person she had ever met. Then she got up off of you. Your lap felt lighter, but also emptier, and you wanted to scream up at the stars for not being able to just indulge this one little desire.

"Fine," she said, and her tone caught you off guard. Most people would probably be upset or angry, but it just seemed like Cairo was challenged and endeared. Like she was going to work out your problem and get right back to this situation, only this time she'd get exactly as she wanted.

She wouldn't, you promised yourself. Never ever. The heartbreak wasn't worth it. Cairo checked her watch. "Could you come over tomorrow too? I'm not done with my story yet, and I want you to read it."

"Uh," you thought out loud. You didn't see why not. Maybe you wouldn't be lovers, but just innocent friends? You weren't so much a monster that you wouldn't be able to stop yourself if you hung out with her. Innocent friends were much easier to forget anyways. "Sure," you said, unknowingly giving her exactly what she wanted.

===+++===

You had gone to her house almost every night for the past week, laying on her bed while she sat in the corner in the same familiar chair, typing the same bloody story that she refused to be satisfied with. It was becoming a pattern, even an unconscious one. The next day had been entirely as awkward as expected, with you trying to act as unbothered as possible.

The friendship was going better than you had anticipated, and you were very pleased with your own self restraint. Winnie had come over too, once or twice, and you enjoyed existing within the context but still on the periphery of a friendship.

Cairo Sweet would hunt you down as her friend or as her whatever-you-were, so you figured giving into one would be the path of least resistance anyhow.

She must have been an insanely picky writer. She wrote every word with an overabundant caution, like she was trying so hard to craft perfection. It was like she wanted her keyboard to drip liquid gold onto the page, and the critics to all collectively clap when she finished a sentence.

"You're like George R. R. Martin with how slow you finish a story," you had said once, out of the blue. Cairo looked up at you, offended, and thrown a pillow in your direction that connected with your face.

"I'm trying to cultivate perfection of the written word," she said, and you rolled your eyes.

"God, writers are so pretentious," you wrinkled your nose. "The only people who like to read annoying writers' books are annoying people."

Cairo scoffed. "Yeah, what, you want to be surrounded by James Bond fans? Stephen King fanboys?"

"That's cool, though," you shrugged. "Gets the point across, isn't badly written, and makes a sometimes beautiful passage along the way."

"Oh, so your writing," she joked, smiling at you. It was an innocent smile, and one that so starkly contrasted the lustful one she had looked at you with only a few days ago. Even in memory, her eyes sent a shiver up your spine.

"Yeah, well, people seem to like it. I guess I’m doing something right," you said. Cairo frowned.

"I don't get it," she shook her head. "And you still won't let me read that first one you wrote."

"It's not exactly something I want to talk about to you."

"Why? Is it bad?" she asked, sitting up straight. You knew she meant 'tell me your dirty secrets' by that.

"I just don't want to."

"Hm," she grumbled, laying back in the chair. "And anyways, if what you say about that thing is true, I don't know why Miller liked it. His book is full of the flowery stuff you complain about."

"He wrote a book???" You were incredulous.

Cairo nodded. "A while ago. Apostrophes and Ampersands."

"Never heard of it."

Cairo shrugged. "It didn't exactly make massive waves. It was ingenious though. Grand and tragic."

"You read it then?" You asked, sitting up and turning towards her.

"Yes, I did," she replied nonchalantly. "I enjoyed it."

You looked out the window for a moment, then back to her. Friends should be friends. "Can I borrow your copy?"

===+++===

"God," you groaned, reading Mr. Miller's book with it held over your head, laying on your back. Cairo had given it to you two days ago and now you were slogging through it, waiting for it to get interesting. "'Human ruins of a madman's love,'" you mocked.

"It's gorgeous," Cairo said. She wasn't in her usual chair, she was sitting by the window with it cracked open, a cigarette in her hand.

"It's not— wait, are you smoking?" You asked, sitting up. Cairo rolled her eyes, grinning at you.

"No, I'm just sitting here with a cigarette lit in my fingers."

"God. Wine and a cigarette, what are you, thirty-four."

"Shut up," she said, putting the cigarette in between her lips and puffing out the window. "And anyways that quote is beautiful."

"Maybe," you challenged. "But what is it actually saying?"

"She means everything to him and he's going crazy for her," Cairo said, like it was obvious. You nodded.

"That's the thought and THAT'S what's good there. That's universal. He's losing the plot— getting lost in the sauce— of trying to sound like he's saying something, to the point where he's losing the entire meat of the message."

"Maybe," said Cairo. "But you said one of your books was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Not exactly the height of literature."

"And I stand by that," You said. "That's actually enjoyable. You don't enjoy reading this, you enjoy being clever enough to read this, when it's saying something you've heard a million times in a million more decipherable ways. And those ways end up being more beautiful, too.”

"Perhaps," she said. "Or maybe I think the writing is beautiful."

"Well then, I think you're crazy."

"You're welcome to do that," Cairo replied, smile still wide. "You probably will."

===+++===

You managed not to cave until a warmer day, about a week after that. Cairo Sweet had previously been a sweet exterior with absolutely nothing on the inside for you to feel a deep pull towards. Only now, after slowly becoming comfortable, was the magnetic pull becoming physically painful.

Winnie had been absolutely beside herself, miffed at Cairo coming down and swiping you for herself. For a friend or for something more, it didn't matter. You were indisputably hers. And after a life of belonging to no one, you thought maybe Cairo took some sort of glee over making you belong to her.

Class was boring, Mr. Miller was fine, your mom seemed to be doing better, and school seemed to drone on. So when you came back to Cairo's house like normal, you were entirely unaware of how quickly you would fail your mission.

You were barely in door before she was running down the stairs, and the look of worry and surprise in your face only worsened when she got so up close to you, just for a second, and then just as hungry and hurriedly as before, kissed you with a brutal ferocity.

You were taken aback. Something was off. You pulled your head away and Cairo's palms pressed to your cheeks, thumbs brushing against the side of your face. She pulled you back and you had to turn your head away. "Cairo, what—"

"Shut up for once, please. Just kiss me the way a girl wants to be kissed."

You could feel every neuron telling you to get away from her. This was exactly what you had said you didn't want. And then there was the other side of you. The one that wanted to take her right then and then. You swallowed.

"I can't do these kinds of connections, Cairo. I told you."

"That's fine," Cairo rushed, her hand resting on your shoulder blade now. "I need one thing from you, and that's it. I don't ask for much, but I really need this."

Your eyebrows furrowed at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You've said you don't want anything, and okay, that’s fine. At least give me your body for the night. No strings attached.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me. We just do whatever this is. You make me feel good, and that’s it.” Her fingers had slithered back up to your hair, scratching gently at your scalp in a way that pulled your focus.

It just took a final glance at her face, for the dam to break. Her cheeks were a dusty red, eyes dilated and staring at you, and though you cursed yourself and your idiot Cro-Magnon mind, your palms went to her legs, tugging her up harshly and wrapping her legs around your waist.

“Shit,” you muttered, highly aware this was probably a bad idea. Cairo wrapped her arms around your neck, kissing you with a smile, and then once that broke, a passionate fervour. It was so much but it was so good. You carried her like that, up the stairs to her room, throwing her down on the bed.

She flipped you over, sitting on your lap like she had been back when the both of you first tried this, and it was all too intoxicating. Cairo’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you back against the mattress before she leaned over, kissing you softly for a moment until it grew into more.

“Wait—” You said, and Cairo sat up, glaring at you.

“You did not get me all the way up here just to back out now,” said Cairo, annoyed beyond belief. You shook your head, tugging her back onto you. Her hair fell around you like a shield to your little private moment.

“I’m not backing out,” you promised, whispering because you felt like you didn’t want to be too loud. “I mean I’ve never … before.”

Cairo smiled at you, looking into your eyes for a moment. “Me neither,” she whispered back.

“Really?” you asked. Cairo raised her eyebrows.

“Fuck you.”

“No,” you shook your head, hand reaching up to move some of her hair out of her face. That wasn’t how you meant it. “…Really?”

She paused, eyes boring into yours. Then she gently nodded, and lowered herself down onto you, placing her lips on yours for another divine moment. It was all too hot in there. She let out a gasp when you tugged down her skirt.

===+++===

It was about five weeks after you had arrived, and you had gone to Cairo's house almost every week day, to continue exactly what had latched around your throat and tugged you harshly towards her.

There, in the milky white lighting of Cairo's table lamp, with her body snugly laying back against you and her book out in front of her, you fell in love for the first time. Really, fell in love.

Not the kind of "love" that swirls around your head as a child and wraps around the leg of the pretty girl in your class who has shiny hair. That kind of “love” where you can't get out a real sentence while talking to her. In comparison to the heavy feeling growing in your chest like a tumour, that was a mild liking.

No, this was the real thing. Adults had always said cryptic things about love, like "when you know, you'll know," and it hadn't ever really made sense, until it did.

As you looked down to watch her nose scrunch from the Nabokov, those three little words took on a whole new meaning. Her dark hair tickled the bare skin of your chest where she laid. Unlike her you still hadn't put your shirt back on, and you shivered a bit, even from under her blanket and her body heat. Her eyes, dark and focused, scanned across the paper, before elegantly flipping past the page with her thumb.

It was one of those renaissance paintings people cried for, in the Louvre, only it was playing out right in front of your eyes. And with that sudden rush of messy emotion, came the dastardly realisation that you were truly fucked.

"You're staring," she said, pulling you from your thoughts. She looked up at you, curious eyes focusing on your own. "What're you staring for?"

You shrugged, the movement shaking her against you. "What's the book you're reading?" You asked. "You seem mad at it."

She hummed, leaving her finger as a bookmark and flipping the cover towards you. The cover read Pale Fire. "That's because it's mostly incoherent rambling," she said. "Makes no sense."

You raised your eyebrows at her. "You don't understand Pale Fire?"

She tilted her head back, challenging you. “And you do?" You nodded. You had written a report during the two months you were in Maine. "Of course you do,” Cairo groaned, rolling her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.

Cairo shook her head, patting the side of your leg with her free hand. “Nothing.”

You sat up. “No, seriously. What do you mean?”

She sighed, closing the book around her index finger to hold her page. Cairo shut her eyes for a second, choosing her words carefully. “I mean... you’re annoyingly clever at something you don’t really care about.”

You laughed. "Careful, Sweet. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're jealous."

"Well, I am," said Cairo. "I care about writing so much, and here you come along with literally no passion for it, and you're out-writing me."

"Uh, sorry?" You said with a smile. But the frown you saw on her face told you she wasn't really joking. Cairo scoffed, sitting up and turning towards you.

"No, I'm serious. You barely even try and you spill some amazing few paragraphs, and Mr. Miller loves you like you're his favourite student," she lamented, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"I promise," you sighed, "that I really don't mean to. I don't get it either, so—"

"—See, but that's what's so frustrating!" She cut you off. "You don't mean to. You don't mean to get in my way, but you do because you're so unbelievably perfect at everything, and Mr. Miller loves you so much."

"Okay, wait a minute," you said. "That's not fair."

"What's 'not fair' is me working my ass off until senior year to get to do what I've ALWAYS wanted to do, WRITE, and then you come along and pull all the praise and probably the recommendation letter too!"

You sat there for a moment, taking her words in, your mouth open in surprise. There had always been an inkling that Cairo was unhappy with having you in her class, but you had drowned the thought out with her lips on yours and treasuring every moment you made her smile with something stupid you said.

You cleared your throat and Cairo was already apologising. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she said, reaching towards you. "It's just so important to me, I get really worked up..."

"It's fine," you rushed. You knew people screamed and said nasty stuff when they were mad. It's just how people were, and it made sense to you. Your mom was like that too, with the yelling and stuff. "Do you..." you mumbled, trying to figure out how to solve her problem. "Do you want me to stop trying?" You asked.

Cairo's eyes lit up within an instant at the idea. "That would be amazing," she breathed. "Thank you so much." She reached across the space between you, kissing with a softness that hadn't previously been there. It was sweet, just like she was, and you breathed a sigh of relief, with the confrontation being over.

You nodded. "Sure." Then your gaze went out the window, realising the sun was starting to set and rain clouds were starting to form. Your hand flew to your leg, having forgotten you were only in your underwear.

"You left it downstairs, remember?" Cairo said, almost playful. When the two of you had gotten to her house, her lips had been so firmly ravaging your neck that your pants hadn't even made it up the stairs before she tugged them off and flung them to the marble bust that stood nearby. You sighed.

"Do you know what time it is?" You asked, getting up from the bed and around to the other side to pick your shirt up off the floor. Cairo also got up, throwing the sheets off herself and walking right over to her closet.

"No, I left my phone at school on accident," she replied, opening the door and flicking through the hangers. You pulled the shirt on over your head and fixed the soft collar. On the opposite side of the room, Cairo pulled out the same cream-coloured dress she had been wearing when you first came to study with her. You paused.

"You're getting all fancy?" You asked, turning to her floor mirror and attempting to fix your absolutely messy hair in a way that it wouldn't be clear Cairo had run her hands through it and gripped on tight.

"Mhm," Cairo said. "Having a guest over tonight."

"Oh. They work with your parents or something?" You said, turning to watch her with curiosity over her answer. Cairo pulled off her shirt so that she was now completely naked. She turned back to you with a smile.

"Do you like what you see?" said Cairo, and it made you blush a bit. You nodded.

"You're absolutely beautiful," you said. If you weren't worried about getting home before dinner, you would have walked right over to her and tugged her back into her bed. Cairo waved you off.

"You're too kind," she said. "Now run on home, lover boy." Cairo disappeared into the bathroom with the dress in her hand, and you heard her rustling around with the sink, probably doing her makeup.

"I... I guess I'll see you, then," you said, left alone in the room.

"Mhm," she called from the bathroom. You frowned, but did a final scan for anything you needed to take before heading out her bedroom door and down the stairs, to where your jeans were clumsily thrown over the Roman statue's head. You tugged your phone and keys from the pocket.

"Fuck," you cursed. Only around thirty minutes to get the whole way across town to your house before your mom started worrying. You walked right over to the door... only to find it was also pouring down rain, now. Dammit. You tugged on your jacket from where it had been hanging on a steel coatrack by the door, pulling the hood up.

You walked out onto the porch, shut the door behind you, and took off running, going as fast as you could down the garden and then up the street into the woods. You got about a hundred metres from her house, that was, until you stopped.

Driving right past you, barely able to see him in the storm, was Mr. Miller. Driving right to Cairo's house in his little sedan. You froze, stopping dead in the rain to watch him go. Even after his license plate retreated in the distance, you felt a sickening sense of dread begin to pool in your gut, one that was already tarnishing your prior bliss.

===+++===

part three perhaps? i also have a tara carpenter one in the works and a lorraine day that's mostly done so hopefully i'll be updating more frequently

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #letorip #jenna #jenna ortega imagine

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zoeykallus · 11 hours

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Hello there!

Would you mind giving us something angsty? Like, Reader confesses her love to the batchers (and maybe Rex and Mayday?). They do feel the same, but they react in the wrong way somehow, so that reader gets hurt, but in the end there is something like a happy end? Like separate little short fics or one-shots.

I know that's probably a lot of work, so please don't feel pressured to do this.

Aloha! Yeah, I think I can do that 😊

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 1/7 - Tech

Warnnings: Love Confessions/Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Masterlist Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

AC: I tried to tackle this one with the thought in mind that Tech is/might be in some autistic spectrum. Now please don't throw any stones at me, I have no real life experience on that subject, so I kinda wrote this one the way I feel Tech after almost three season.

You've had feelings for him for a while now. Your heart beats faster, you feel warm when he approaches you and your eyes meet. You could listen to him day and night, no matter what he talks about. You think a part of him knows this, must know it, because when he discovers something new and wants to tell someone about it, he usually comes to you automatically. Because you listen to him attentively, every time. Your feelings go beyond friendship, you long to be close to him, you miss him every second he's not around. But you know Tech is somehow different. Sometimes he's very forthcoming, seems to enjoy being around you, but other times, he's more distant, almost as if he's trying to keep you at arm's length, as if he can't handle your presence right now. You have no idea how exactly to assess this behavior, it often feels like a roller coaster ride. It's not always easy to deal with and adjust to. But you want to do the right thing, so you don't push him when you realize he's pulling away, even if it hurts.

But one day, you summon up all your courage. Tech and you are working on damage to the outer hull of the Marauder. Until just now, he was telling you about his idea to improve the alloy for the metal of the outer hull and how he plans to make certain modifications to the ship in the future. Now, however, there is a brief pause, and you continue to work in silence. Your gaze wanders thoughtfully from his helmet, which is resting on a toolbox behind him, back to him Your heart is pounding in your throat, your hands are even shaking a little as you decide to finally tell him, to tell him how you feel about him. "Tech?" His name comes over your lips, almost like a whisper. He heard you, though. Normally he would answer you and listen without looking up from his work, but something about the way you say his name catches his attention this time. He pauses, turns his head in your direction and looks at you, his eyes widening a little. "What's wrong?"

His gaze, those beautiful eyes, like dark brown amber. Your knees go weak. You try to hold his gaze, but every now and then, you blink and look to the side before looking at him again as you speak. "There's something I need to tell you" His brows move up questioningly. "Is it something important?" You hesitate for a second before saying, "I guess it's a matter of opinion. It's very important to me" Surprised, you watch as Tech puts down his tools and turns to you. "Then let me hear it," he says promptly. Now you have his undivided attention. Your stomach is tingling, your heart is doing wild tricks in your chest. Your mouth goes dry, and you hastily reach for the water bottle to take a few sips. As you put the bottle down, your hand trembles so much that you can barely put the bottle down properly. Tech doesn't miss this, of course, his brows draw together in concern, but he waits silently for you to tell him. "I have feelings for you," you suddenly say so quickly, with a look on your face as if you were ripping off a band-aid. Then you smile nervously, inwardly cursing at yourself.

He stands there, motionless, and looks at you. Occasionally he blinks. You don't know what you were expecting, but some kind of reaction would have been nice. You nervously hold your breath.

"Romantic?" he finally asks after what feels like an eternity.

You finally dare to breathe again. He sounds thoughtful, confused, maybe even overwhelmed, but you can't quite put your finger on it right now, your own thoughts and your heartbeat are so incredibly loud.

"Yes, Tech. You know, accelerated pulse when you're near me, tingly feeling in my stomach, the need to be close to you, to want to please you. Bittersweet nervousness..."

For a moment, he looks at you as if you have a rare disease that might be contagious, and your stomach tightens at the sight. You regret saying a single word. "I'm not sure how to deal with this," he says thoughtfully, averting his eyes, "I can't... process" You can't help but stare at him helplessly. You feel the blood drain from your face, and your whole body suddenly seems to become much heavier. You swallow and say in a helpless attempt to pretend everything is okay, "It's okay, Tech, we don't have to talk about it" You turn back to your work, avert your gaze, and you miss Tech's confused, questioning look as he asks, "Don't we have to? You said it's important to you" "No," you say and put the tool to work, "We don't have to, everything can just stay the way it was before" He looks at you silently for a while longer, lost in his thoughts, before resuming his work. _______ Over the next few days, you hardly speak a word, in fact you avoid him. You feel like an idiot, hurt and exposed. The thought that Tech knows about your feelings makes you feel like you're walking around naked and every one of his questioning, scrutinizing glances weighs heavily on you.

One evening, as you sit alone in the cockpit, you hear someone walk toward you, and by now you can already tell that Tech is approaching by the sound of his footsteps. You shrink into the co-pilot's seat and focus obsessively on the datapad in your hands. As he says your name, your shoulders shrink down, you try to make yourself even smaller, you don't look up as you answer, "Yes?" His voice sounds soft, but still in his very own matter-of-fact way, as he says, "A few days ago, when you told me about your feelings, you said we didn't have to talk about it and everything could be the same. But it's not. You're avoiding me, avoiding eye contact. I realized that my first reaction made you feel insecure, probably even gave you the wrong impression. I've come to the conclusion that nothing is the same as before and that there is a real need to talk about it" You sigh softly and ask, "Is there something on your mind?" Instead of answering, Tech leans down towards you. Surprised and a little startled, your eyes do wander in his direction. He kisses your cheek gently and chastely, then sits down in the pilot's seat.

Your fingers automatically move to the spot where his lips touched your cheek, leaving a soft, tingling sensation. You feel warm, but at the same time you are confused and can't help but stare at him questioningly. "After some time to process what I've heard, said and felt, I've realized that these feelings are apparently mutual. I hope that's not a problem" You blink several times and straighten up a little in your seat. A soft smile at the corners of your mouth. "That's not a problem, Tech, not at all" He nods, smiling. "Good, so we can explore this new territory together, right?" You resist the urge to fall around his neck, you know that Tech processes things differently, especially in the interpersonal sphere, that he takes longer and values physical contact very differently. You nod, your smile a little wider. "I'd love to, Tech," you say softly. Your heart almost leaps out of your chest with joy as he reaches for your hand, tentatively at first, but eventually with gentle determination. With a cautious smile, he says, "I hope you'll be patient with me" You laugh softly, gently, and beam at him as you reply, "I have all the time in the world for you, Tech"

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ace-turned-confused · 1 day

Text

whatever you want | joel miller x f!reader

summary: date night for you and Joel but we skip to the good part xoxo word count: 3,2k warnings: 18+ only, POV changes (i tried my best pls be nice), no plot in sight, reader has no physical descriptions other than clothing, established relationship, pet names, smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, butt stuff, spitting, creampie, praise kink, panty kink, size kink, Joel’s filthy mouth a/n: this is the first thing i've written that's actually made it out the doc before being trashed forever - big thanks to my irl bestie for her continuous words of encouragement <3 this is very mildly edited because i'll hate it if i keep trying to improve it ✌️ i'd appreciate any feedback! again pls be nice thank you love you okay bye divider by @saradika-graphics

You've been looking forward to this all week — date night with Joel. You usually stick to something simple, going out for a cosy dinner or just deciding to cook together at home — but he always ensures it’s a memorable night in one way or another, and tonight is no exception.

He suggested to you earlier in the week, lying in bed, “How ‘bout this time you pick out something for me to wear? Hm?” It had your mind racing with ideas, thinking about all the possibilities now presented to you.

You glance at him, “So what’s in it for you, then?”

“No ulterior motive here, sweetheart,” he puts his palms up near his face and smirks, “You always look pretty for me, I just thought I’d return the favour.”

“Hm, that’s a big decision,” you mutter with a playful smile.

You’re well aware of what Joel loves seeing you wear — he’s always loved anything you wear, to be frank, racy or not — and decided to pose a deal to him, something you knew you’d both benefit from.

“I may have some ideas. Why don’t we make a deal, then?” you inch closer to him and play with a stray lock of his hair. “You do something for me, and I’ll do something for you.” Your eyes meet and you can tell he’s trying to figure out the game you’re playing.

“And what would that entail?” he asks, a hint of cockiness in his voice, impressed by your unusual boldness. You remove your hand from his hair and drape your arm over him.

“Will you wear that red shirt again… with the sleeves rolled up?” you ask shyly, trailing your fingers up and down his side.

“Sure will,” he says, still smirking. You’re only getting more breathless the longer this goes on, and you haven't even made your whole point yet.

“And… those black pants of yours…?”

“Which ones, sweetheart? I got a lot of black pants,” he remarks, feigning innocence and a cheeky lilt to his voice. “You know which ones,” you mutter, your hand stilling.

He shifts closer until you’re pressed against each other and whispers, “Don’t think I do, you’re gonna have to tell me.”

You huff, annoyed at him for teasing you like this, and at yourself for getting turned on by his games. “The tight-fitting, black—”

“That’s not what you really want to say, though, is it? Tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours,” he interrupts, and you shiver.

You look down at his chest, unable to make eye contact with him and pray he doesn’t notice how your cheeks redden as you whisper back, “Those black pants that everyone can see how big you are, those pants, I want you to wear them.”

He skims a hand up your back, “See? Was that so difficult?” he asks rhetorically, and you can practically hear his teasing smile and visualise the dark glint that you know will be in his eyes. “And what shoes should I wear, you know, to tie the whole look together?”

“You know very well I couldn’t care less what fucking shoes you wear,” you chirp back at him, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again.

Satisfied with your answer, he plants his hand on the small of your back, caressing you gently with his thumb, “You mentioned some kind of deal?”

If he hadn’t brought it up again you’re not sure you would’ve remembered at all. You’ll always be amazed by how calm he is after derailing a conversation and making you so flustered.

You close your eyes, mentally shake yourself, and start your bargaining, “Well, I promise to wear the laciest panties I own—” you look at him sweetly through your lashes, “—if you promise to keep your clothes on. And you can, you know, do whatever you want.” It comes out far breathier than you were planning, but it’s out. “With me, to me, you know. Whatever.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly, voice lowered, “Whatever I want, hm? And all I have to do is stay dressed? Quite the deal there.”

Joel’s made himself comfortable in his chair, eyes trained on you in the doorway. Sitting here now, the night’s only just beginning and you’re already like putty in his hands. He noticed hours ago your eyes had glazed over, and he’s been growing harder and harder ever since in anticipation.

“What’re you thinking about, sweetheart?” he asks, and your gaze refocuses on him.

“You,” you reply, sweet and simple.

He does a once-over, taking in your flowery, strappy top and neat little black slip-skirt that falls just above your knees and hugs your hips beautifully — your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt and you’re shifting your weight side to side.

He smiles softly and suggests, “Why don’t you show me those pretty panties you promised to wear?” and you nod gently, moving slowly further into the room.

Much more confident and comfortable in your own skin than when you took your clothes off for him the first time, you face Joel and lift your gaze to meet his. You reach behind your back to unzip your top and lift it over your head, dropping it to the floor. Pushing your thumbs beneath your waistband, you peel your skirt over your hips and hunch forward slightly, letting it pool around your feet. Standing at your full height again, he takes all of you in — clad in lace, black bra and lilac panties.

He widens his legs and curls a finger, beckoning you forward and you stand between his knees. Joel rests his hands on your hips, thumbing the lace over your hipbones.

“Where’ve you been hiding these?” he looks up at you and sees heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

“I, um… I’ve been saving them, for uh—“ you stutter, and he can see you start second-guessing your choice. Breathing shallowly, you murmur, “Do you not like them?”

He smiles at you, still playing with the lace, “I love them, sweetheart. You know I always do.” He lowers his gaze down to your panties again, eyes trailing across the fabric, and he doesn’t miss how you press your legs together, seeking any sort of relief.

He pushes against your hip to turn you around, and almost can’t believe how you’ve both ended up here. You, dressed in your best lace just for him, ready and willing to do as he says? You’d clearly been wanting to do this for some time now, but Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited, too. He kneads the swell of your ass, fingers toying with the lacy edges and hears you breathing deeply again.

“So, whatever I want?”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder and reply under your breath, “Yes.”

He turns you around to face him, hands still on your hips. He looks up at you again, “You okay?” and squeezes his hands.

“Yeah,” and you nod, smiling down at him.

“Well, you did such a good job picking these panties all on your own, sweetheart, I think maybe you need a reward,” he darts his tongue out and drags his hands along your thighs, resting his arms down and leaning back in his chair. “First, though, you’re gonna show me just how good you can be, okay? C’mon, on your knees.”

You lower yourself, getting comfortable between his legs, your eyes lingering on his bulge before looking up at him. He nods towards his lap and you start undoing his pants, palming him through the fabric. Reaching into his boxer briefs and wrapping your hand around his length, you stroke him a few times and pull his waistband down just enough to take him out, thick and heavy and already fully stiff in your hand. You bow your head to lick him from base to tip, hover above him and spit onto his cock, stroking him harder and smiling sweetly at him.

You start taking him into your mouth and he sighs, resting a hand on the crown of your head. “You been waiting all night for this, huh, sweetheart?”

You hum a response and he groans, watching you bob up and down, taking more and more of him each time. You pull off and continue stroking him, and he smiles at you in encouragement. You take him in your mouth again, and he feels you hollow your cheeks and take him even further, the tip of his cock just about breaching your throat and you whimper around him.

“Fuck, baby, doin’ so good,” he grunts and pulls you off. His hand moves to the nape of your neck, the other tracing over your collarbone and down over the lace of your bra, your nipples hardening through the delicate fabric. “Think you can do it?”

You nod eagerly at him, eyes glinting, hands stroking him languidly and you move to start sucking him again. He tightens his grip and stops you. “Use your words, please.”

“Yes, I can do it.” You look up at him and his hold softens.

“Good girl, go on.”

You lick the underside of his shaft and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and take him again, working him just to the start of your throat. You’re breathing as best you can through your nose, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, lips stretched around him and brushing his wiry curls as you push even further and hold him there, fingers digging into his thighs. You start to gag and do your best not to pull off him, squirming to find any bit of friction and Joel moans at the sight, throwing his head back.

“Bein’ such a good girl, taking my cock so far down your throat, hm?”

You moan and swallow around him, his hips jerking at the sensation and he pulls you off. “Almost too good,” he breathes, “know you’d love me coming down your throat, but not tonight.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you whine, moving back and forth on your knees.

“Stand up for me sweetheart,” and you rise, looking down at him, still catching your breath. His hands are back on you immediately, squeezing your waist, hips, ass — any part of you he can reach. He runs his fingers across your panties again, trailing them down over your covered clit and between your folds and you tilt forward into his touch.

“Soaked right through these pretty panties of yours,” he looks up to meet your gaze and there’s almost no colour to your eyes anymore, just pure blown-out pupils. He keeps rubbing his fingers along you and you whine again, clearly desperate for him to touch you properly.

He smirks up at you, “So needy just from sucking my cock.”

Joel shoves his hand under the elastic of your panties and rubs his fingers between your folds and over your entrance, coating his fingers in your arousal. He shoves two thick fingers into you without warning and you fall forward with a strangled moan, hands supporting your weight on his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out, your cunt tight around him.

“Always so wet for me, huh? Need me to make you feel good?” He stares at you, eyes shut and mouth hanging open as he slows his hand and you force out a yes, your voice hoarse. He speeds up again and curls his fingers into that one spot he knows you can’t reach with your own hand, brushing over it again and again, the palm of his hand grinding against your clit.

Your legs start trembling and he pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Taste so sweet.”

He moves his legs between yours and pulls you towards him and down onto his lap, guiding your hips back and forth over his length, precome leaking from his tip. He leans forward, “You gonna keep these on while you sit on my cock, yeah?” and tugs on the waistband of your panties, letting the elastic snap back against your skin. You nod frantically in response and lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him haphazardly. He licks into your mouth and moans into you, hands firmly gripping your ass.

You rise slightly and he takes hold of his cock, stroking himself and pulls your panties to one side. He lines himself up with your entrance and you start to sink down, eyes screwing shut at the stretch. He holds you by the waist, your hands like a vice grip on his shoulders and it takes everything in him not to pull you down and make you take him to the hilt. You take your time working him in, inch by inch, and Joel can tell how close you are already, your broken moans getting louder and louder.

You’re fully seated and he takes a hand off his shoulder, plants a kiss on your knuckles and guides it between your bodies, spreading your fingers around where he’s splitting you open. “You feel how stretched you are, baby?” You gasp and he leans towards you and lifts his hand to grip across your chin, mouth ghosting yours and squeezes his hand to purse your lips.

“Open,” he orders and your lips part, spitting into your mouth and he feels you tightening around him. Pushing his index finger into your mouth, you suck and swirl your tongue around it, moaning as you lift up and down, grinding yourself onto the trail of hair at the base of his cock. Joel feels your legs starting to give out underneath you and he watches you with hooded eyes. He pulls his finger from your mouth and wraps his arms around you, hands reaching down underneath your panties to grab your ass and spread you wider. He prods his finger at your tight hole and your eyes shoot open to look at him, desperate and needy.

“You gonna come for me?” You whine and nod, almost begging him with a please, over and over again. He pushes his finger in to just past his middle knuckle and you moan out wantonly, already completely wrecked. Joel feels your cunt clamp down on his cock and you come with a sob of his name, eyes shut and face contorted in pleasure as he whispers praises in your ear.

At some point in your post-orgasm haze, Joel moved the two of you onto the bed — you waiting on all fours and Joel's voice breaking through from somewhere behind you.

“Did good sweetheart, always do, but I’m not done with you.” His hands are all over you, skating across and grabbing any skin he can reach. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder in search of him and notice he’s still fully dressed — well, as fully dressed as he can be — and remember that’s what got you into this position in the first place. Dishevelled greying curls, only the last couple buttons holding his shirt together, wide chest on full display, sleeves rolled up, pants and boxer briefs sitting mid-thigh, his cock, thick and hard and leaking and you clench around nothing just at the sight.

Joel’s hands are all over you, skating across and grabbing any skin he can reach. He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties down to the tops of your thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses on the skin as it’s revealed. He spreads you with his hands and spits onto your pussy and you let out a choked moan. He drags the tip of his cock through your folds and the messy mix of arousal and spit and your last orgasm. You feel him notch at your entrance again, and he sheaths himself fully inside your cunt in one thrust, all but punching the air from your lungs and he groans. You feel the swell of his tummy pressed against you and his fingers digging into your ass as he spreads you open. “Look so beautiful like this, wish you could see it.”

He leans over you, breathing into your neck, “Always take my cock so well, baby.” He pulls out almost completely, snapping his hips back into you and you can already feel heat pooling at the base of your spine again as he pounds into you, fingers gripping your hips so hard he’s bound to leave bruises. He snakes a hand underneath you to rub your clit and you feel your legs start to tremble.

All you can think is Joel Joel Joel, and his voice cuts through the ringing in your ears, husky and breathless. “You gonna give me one more, yeah? Come for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come on my cock,” and you all but see stars behind your eyes, overwhelmed with the sweet praise. He stills as you come, his hands and affirming words keeping you grounded as you clench and gush around him.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you up flush against him, your head falling back onto his shoulder and you’re not sure you can form words anymore, your chest heaving as you try to get your breathing back to normal. You turn your head towards him and he kisses you surprisingly gently.

“Can you be good just a bit longer?” He starts grinding his hips into you and you whine, your hands coming up to hold his arms. “Always such a good girl for me, hm?” He drags his mouth along the side of your neck and you nod tiredly, feeling him smile.

He starts with slow thrusts, his grip around you the sole reason you’re still upright, his voice in your ear and hot breath on your neck and the heavy, familiar, drag of his cock in and out making you dizzy.

“So fuckin’ tight around me sweetheart. Your favourite feeling, isn’t it? Being stuffed full of my cock?” He starts rambling on and you know he’s close. “You want me to come inside you? Want me to come inside your tight little pussy?”

“Yes, please. Please come inside me.”

He mumbles incoherently and you tighten your hands on his arms; his thrusts get harder and his arms stiffen in their hold around you and you feel him twitching as he starts to spill inside you, warmth coating your walls. He lowers you both to lie down as he comes down from his high, cock still buried deep inside you and you feel his spend start to leak out around him and down your thighs.

Shifting around and your eyes fluttering open, you’re wrapped up in Joel’s arms, head burrowed against his chest. You reach down and feel he’s cleaned you up and pulled fresh panties on you, a faint throbbing between your thighs. He stirs next to you and presses a kiss to your forehead, long and tender.

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you mumble and wrap an arm around his torso to press yourself into him even more.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin with a finger to look at him. “Sweetheart, think we’ve done this enough that I know you get sleepy afterwards. Stop apologising.” He cradles your cheek, kisses you sweetly and whispers, “Now go back to sleep.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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mountainficss · 2 days

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be cool with hybrid requests??

I've been thinking of dog hybrid seokmin for far too long lately and need to know how you'd make out of that🙏🙏

ooo i’ve never actually done a hybrid request before! i don’t know much about them, but i don’t mind thinking out of the box at all.

i think minnie would be the cutest little puppy, with brown ears and a matching brown tail. such a friendly and happy baby, just so full of joy no matter the circumstances. he’d be like your personal ray of sunshine, always by your side and improving your mood. would love it when you scratch between his ears, leaning into every touch you give him. he’d be so clingy, literally feels like he’s dying every time you leave the house without him tagging along. but once you get home on he’s all over you, overwhelmed by all the new scents you bring home with you. sometimes you smell like strong coffee or printer paper from your office, but other times he’d catch scents of male coworkers. he’d hate the smell of other men lingering on your clothes, and he’d feel a bitter jealousy. he knows you’re not intentionally trying to get close to other men, so he shoves his envy down as deep as he can. instead he opts to cling to you, attacking you with his kisses and marking your neck with hickeys. you’d lean into his touch, letting him nuzzle against you all he wants. his hands would knead at your sides, licking up the shell of your ear and begging you to let him please you. “please,” he’d whine, nipping at your ear with his sharp canines. “please let me have you. i’ll be good, missed you so much today…” you’d let out a quiet sigh, nodding as he balls the fabric of your shirt in his hands.

his cute tail would wag excitedly as you drag him to your bedroom, immediately undressing him as you shut the door behind you. both of you would tug off each other’s clothes, tossing them carelessly on the floor and flopping down onto your bed in a tangle of limbs. he’d mount you and bury his cock into your heat, twitching uncontrollably when you let out a gentle moan. “i hate when you leave me,” he’d whimper softly, slowly pulling out and thrusting back inside your twitching hole. he’d settle his face into your neck again, licking a stripe up your flushed skin. an eager hand would grab yours, the other snaking up to your chest and groping. you’d wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in and causing him to fuck you deeper. “i don’t like leaving you either, seokminnie,” you’d smile, reaching a hand up to pet his soft ears. he’d moan feeling your hands on him, rutting into you impatiently. his dirty sounds would turn you on even more, your stomach twisting in arousal and love for him. “i—ah—i s-smell other people on you sometimes when you come home,” he’d choke, pounding into you like he wanted to mark his territory. “m-makes me so jealous…” you’d coo at sweet seokmin, scratching him behind his ears as his tail continues to wag. “then fill me up,” you’d coax, running a hand up and down his back. “make me smell like you again, puppy.” your command would bring him tumbling over the edge, quick thrusts targeting your sweet spot and causing you to finish around his cock. he’d cum inside your heat, fucking you full of his warm seed as he pants frantically. he’d flop down on top of you, holding you close and inhaling the scent of you and him mixed together :(

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom

#thoughts #seventeen smut #seventeen #smut #svt smut #sub!idol #svt #seokmin #lee seokmin #lee dokyeom #dokyeom #svt dk #dk smut #mountainficss

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keline11 · 14 hours

Text

Fears

(Another post but not that long, just a lot of text (I'll die for this family))

Missa and Chayanne made a dock for fishing.

Missa: "you know, son? Being here, you and me fishing, makes me reflect in life, about how we are simple pixels in this word, but it doesn't matter, being pixels is not so bad, at the end of the day what are pictures? if not a bunch of pixels put together. Maybe we are a big image, and we are part of a gigant image called "universe".

....

Missa: "Did you know that I am afraid of the sky?"

Chay: *No*

Missa: "Well it's true, that's right, but is ok because i am here, beside my egg, having a good afternoon"

Chay: "I don't know what I'm afraid of"

Missa: "You are not afraid of anything, chayanne"

Chay: "Maybe losing you guys" (he said "perderlos" that also means "losing them" but I am guessing that he was referring to philza and missa (tallulah wasn't there yet) or his family in general (his dads and the other eggs))

Missa: "Oh no, oh no don't say that chayanne, we will be here forever, even when we stop being pixels we will continue to be a story that was told"

Chay: "I don't think I'll lose, but If I do? what will happen to me?"

Missa: "Well, the lessons, they are based on errors/mistakes and when someone loses, is the opotunity to learn to improve."

Chay: "And if the mistake is really big?"

Missa: "No mistake is big enough, everything can be redeemed in some way, at the end of the day by breaking things (making mistakes) one learns, remember the people that say they know everything are the dumbest people, but the persons that know that they don't know anything are smart enought to undestand that they don't know the smallest thing of what they could know" (fucking tongue twister)

Missa: "But you can make a lot of mistakes because it means that you are still learning, so don't be afraid to make mistakes"

...

Missa: "Son, after this day I will embark on a big journey, thats right, I'll fly to the other side of the world. I thought, I would be calm if I went knowing that you are with philza."

Chay: "I'll be fine, I'll continue training with dad philza."

Missa then said that he will try to do stream there (but it didn't happen because the internet was bad.)

Missa: "I don't want people teling me things, I want to be there for when you become the strongest egg"

Chay: "dad philza says that I will take over this world"

Missa: *Laughs* "Thats right (you will)."

End.. (8

#qsmp #qsmp missa #missa #qsmp chayanne #chayanne #qsmp death family #death family #i miss missa

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melintowriting · 1 day

Text

The first Empress-Chapter 2

Hello everyone! Chapter 2 is finally out. I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: arranged marriage, smut (+18), virginity loss, blood, corruption kink, breeding kink

Word count: 2.528

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Kaitain, a few days later

Their wedding took place a few days after their first meeting on Kaitain.

The ceremony had been lavish and the young Na-Baron and his wife had become husband and wife before the eyes of all the lords and ladies of the Landsraad.

Monique had been watching her daughter attentively throughout the whole banquet. Her Bene Gesserit eyes, trained not to miss anything, had looked beyond the young woman’s apparent calm to see some agitation. The idea of sending her to Giedi Prime, to that horrible planet, tormented her. But she could not fight against fate. She found peace in her torment only when she reminded herself that Jeremy would go with her, that she would not be alone, that her twins would not be separate.

Monique looked at her, sitting next to Feyd Rautha, observing the guests.

She was studying them in the Bene Gesserit way.

Monique almost smiled: her daughter’s training had been a success.

"You taught her the Bene Gesserit way impeccably." commented Lady Jessica, sitting next to her.

"We both trained our offspring well." confirmed Monique "Paul… is he the Kwisatz Haderach?"

Lady Jessica remained silent for a few seconds before answering: "There are signs. Soon the Reverend Mother will test him with the Gom Jabbar and we will know."

Monique immediately noticed the apprehension in Jessica’s voice.

"He will succeed." she reassured her, smiling with maternal solidarity.

Jessica turned to look at her sister-in-law, unsure whether to ask her the question she had been thinking about for hours.

“And Megan? Is she the Chosen Woman?"

Monique remained silent while the prophecy about the First Empress repeated in her head.

-One day, the Empire will know the power of a young woman. -

The prophecy of the First Empress was the first that was taught at the Bene Gesserit school, along with the one of the Kwisatz Haderach. Both would have been the result of the complex and intricate breeding plan that the Bene Gesserit had carried out for centuries.

The prophecy continued with -Loved by the peoples and feared by the powerful, born by a Bene Gesserit sister and an honorable man from an adverse and distant land, she will be the first woman to sit on the throne. -

Megan had shown signs of great intelligence and power from an early age. The way she spoke, studied people, showed mercy for the weak and ruthlessness for the oppressors... everything had always made Monique believe that she would be the First Empress.

"I think so." she replied to Jessica "Or at least everyone thinks so.”

At the age of ten, during a dinner, Megan asked the Emperor why the people outside the palace died of hunger and while they always wasted their food. He looked at her in shock, opening his eyes slightly, especially when Megan added, "We should feed them too. We have enough food for ourselves."

Since that day the signs had been irrefutable. Her greatness and nobility of mind were known to everyone on the planet. The kind way she addressed servants, the way she always fought with the Emperor, even to no avail, to try to improve the living conditions of the people... everything had led people to love her, to the point of whispering "Empress" at her passage.

Everyone knew about the prophecy, everyone was waiting.

"Our Bene Gesserit sisters have been at work on Giedi Prime to spread the word of her imminent arrival. We’ll see."

The two women looked at each other in silence, almost in a hopeful way. If it was true that their children were the chosen ones... there would be enormous challenges and dangers ahead of them.

"Tell me Jessica." Monique then changed the subject, "My brother hates being here, doesn’t he?"

The two women’s eyes rested on Leto talking to some of the Lords of the Great Houses.

"He hates being in the same room with the Harkonnens. But he would never miss his granddaughter’s wedding."

Jessica’s words made Monique smile.

Her brother, so stubborn but kind-hearted...

He was the only real man in that room.

The two ladies were not the only ones observing the Duke though: Baron Vladimir was also looking at him with prying eyes.

-That damned Atreides- he thought -It will have to be eliminated sooner or later. -

******

The celebrations continued until late evening.

The newlyweds had little conversations during the festivities: they had exchanged a few fleeting words on trivial topics but nothing more.

Feyd only looked forward to the end of the dinner. He could no longer contain his impatience to spend his wedding night with Megan.

He wanted to see her, to explore her, to claim her as his. A mischievous and perverse smile had been printed on his lips for the whole evening; a smile that Megan immediately understood to be a sign of desire.

If until then she had tried not to think about it, the idea of consuming the wedding began to frighten her. The way he looked at her, like a predator looking at his prey... almost terrified her.

Was he going to be gentle? Probably not. Was he going to hurt her? It was easy to see how much Feyd loved pain.

As soon as the banquet was over and the couple got up from the table, Megan’s eyes searched desperately for her mother’s.

Monique looked at her, hinting at a comforting smile. She had explained everything she needed to know about a man and how to give him pleasure. She knew she was ready. Yet seeing her like this, almost seeking help, made her heart clench in her chest.

Jeremy clenched his fists as he watched his sister and Feyd leave the room.

- If he dares hurt her, I swear I’ll kill him.- he thought, barely finishing his glass of wine.

******

The door to the room closed behind them with a slight creak.

-It’s done, now I have no way out.- she thought.

She could feel them, she could feel his icy eyes staring at her incessantly.

She hated being afraid, fear made her feel stupid and vulnerable. Normally she would be able to hide it with forced confidence but at that moment nothing seemed to work.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Feyd’s hoarse voice made her wince.

"No."

"My Na-Baroness, you know what I absolutely hate?"

Megan turned slowly, trying to remain impassive.

"What?"

"Liars." He took a step towards her, passing his tongue over his black teeth. "So I will ask you again and I want you to tell me the truth this time: are you afraid of me?"

-I won’t admit it so easily. - she imposed herself, thinning her eyes.

"No."

-She keeps lying. - Feyd thought, caressing her cheek with one finger. He then whispered: "Such a stubborn pet, I will change that."

Megan shuddered, her heart beating faster.

-Pet, I’m not your pet- she thought but remained silent.

Feyd knew she was a virgin. The idea of taking her innocence, of corrupting her... it was enough to make his cock twitching from impatience.

"I’ll be gentle with you this time." he promised with a perverse smile, "Does that reassure you a little?"

The girl felt her stomach tightening with terror. -This time- she repeated in her mind, gulping.

Feyd shook his head, pretending to be disappointed: "It’s rude not to answer when someone asks you a question, pet. Answer me."

Megan struggled to nod. How stupid she had been. How could she not be afraid to marry him? Thinking back, she should have been. She could have used the Voice, but for what purpose? The wedding night had to be consummated anyway and using her secret weapon this quickly wasn’t wise.

"Yes, it reassures me." she lied again.

When Feyd kissed her, Megan made it seem casual. She returned the kiss with the same intensity he was kissing her with, making her tongue touch his. The kiss was intense, rough, wet.

She slowly began to undress, sliding the straps of the dress along her arms and making it fall to the ground with a slight thud.

Feyd took his lips off hers to admire her. She was just as he had imagined her to be. Her body was harmonious, perfectly proportioned. Her skin was pale, her breasts were abundant and perfectly round, her hips wide. He laid his hands on her butt and then squeezed her flesh, feeling desire growing inside him.

"Lay on the bed, pet." he ordered, grinning.

Megan obeyed, sitting on the fresh silk sheets.

It was all new to her. Being seen naked, having sex... she wondered if it would hurt.

"You’re so beautiful and innocent."

Feyd looked at her with growing desire.

"Now I must prepare you to take me." he explained, unbuttoning his jacket to reveal a muscular and sculpted abdomen "Otherwise I’ll break you, pet, and I don’t want to ruin you. Not now."

Despite the anxiety, the fear, Megan could not deny how beautiful Feyd was.

His body, his shoulders, his strong arms... everything was a pleasant sight.

Feyd approached her, ravenous. He was so close to her that he could feel her agitated breath. Megan’s dark eyes watched him, studying his moves.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, kneeling before her.

Megan obeyed and Feyd almost grinned, eager to find out what she tasted like.

As soon as his tongue touched her sensitive bud Megan could not hold back a moan of pleasure. Feyd’s mouth was tasting her, exploring her already wet folds.

"You taste good, little pet." he said in a hoarse voice before putting his lips back on her.

The girl shuddered, throwing her head back from pleasure. It was a sensation never felt before. Strong, overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Do you like it, little pet?"

Megan couldn’t help herself and moaned again. Feyd’s mouth was experienced, passionate, and she never thought she would have liked it so much.

"If you don’t answer me, I’ll have to stop." he warned her, raising his icy blue eyes to meet hers.

"Yes, yes." she nodded, out of breath "I like it."

Feyd smiled widely, showing his black teeth: "How much?"

"So much."

There was one thing Feyd was particularly proud of: his ability in giving pleasure to women. He knew how and where to touch them, how to make them responsive to his touch, how to make them moan and scream until their voice was lost.

He eagerly licked her intimacy and then started to tease her entrance with one finger, sliding it up and down her wetness. When he inserted it slowly he felt her become stiff, almost retracting from the sensation.

"Don’t run away from me." he said while grabbing her by her thighs to hold her steady.

It took her a few moments to get used to the feeling and to find it pleasant.

When he inserted a second finger, instead of retracting, Megan groaned even louder. She was ready now. Ready to take him.

"Now you’re ready, little pet." he announced to her, getting up.

The girl caught her breath, watching him getting undressed.

The way he was pleasuring her... she wanted more. She watched him take off his pants, revealing his manhood. It bounced as soon as he freed it, already hard at the sight of her completely naked in front of him.

He was so big that Megan wondered how she could take him. It was as white as alabaster, with some bluish veins starting from the base to arrive at the tip, already glistening with precum.

Feyd crawled on the bed, sliding the tip against her wet entrance.

Megan held her breath as soon as he pushed it slowly into her. He began to move inside her, watching her muscles twitch at each thrust.

"If you contract it will be worse." he said in a deep voice, placing a hand on her breast, squeezing it.

At first it was pain, just pain. He was too big for her... he was stretching her at every thrust, her walls tightening around him from the pain.

But after a few moments the pain turned into pleasure, to the point that she could no longer hold back her moans.

"So tight" Feyd muttered, slightly increasing his speed.

-She’s so beautiful, so delicate... I’ll ruin her as soon as I get her used to my cock- he thought, looking intensely into her eyes.

"Feyd." she whispered, feeling his tip hit an unknown spot inside her at each movement.

The way she had pronounced his name with a mesmerized look of pleasure, almost in a whisper... sent him completely over the edge.

Her tight walls tightened, milking his cock as he came inside her, hard.

A long and guttural moan escaped Feyd’s lips as he could feel his cock twitching.

He slowly came out of her, looking at his cum dripping from her. He bred her properly.

"You’re bleeding, pet." he said, seeing blood on the sheets.

Megan looked at him again as if she was bewitched, still panting.

The sight of his seed mixed with the blood of her virginity made him feel insatiable.

"But you haven’t come yet." he pointed, kneeling again "Let me make it right."

His lips kissed her clit again, eating her out like a starved man. The ferrous taste of blood mixed with both of their juices was divine. Feyd continued unabated until he heard her tremble, moaning louder and whining.

"Cum for me, darling." he ordered, inserting two fingers, "Don’t be shy."

Megan felt the orgasm coming hard and fast as she shook in pleasure, screaming his name.

"Feyd, yes!" she screamed as she came against his mouth, rolling her eyes back.

Their panting breaths united to become a unison as their eyes met.

All the fear that Megan had felt seemed to be gone. Willingly or unwillingly, Feyd had ensured that she would also enjoy herself, trying to be as gentle as possible. She knew it wouldn’t happen again but she would always remember that moment, beautiful in an unexpected way.

-And now? Now what should I do? What should I say? - she thought as her husband laid next to her -My mother did not instruct me on this. -

Megan, who always tried to explain everything with reason, understood that rationality would be useful to her at that moment. She understood that she had to improvise and to follow her instinct.

She did not expect any other kindness from him: he had already tried hard enough. And then it wasn’t necessary. They’d just gotten married and most likely never going to love each other. They just had to generate heirs and bear each other for the rest of their lives, nothing more.

She could live without love.

In the silence of the room Megan also laid down, staring at the ceiling as she tried to breathe regularly.

After a few minutes it was Feyd who broke the silence with his hoarse voice, saying: "Sleep. Tomorrow we will leave at dawn for Giedi Prime. You must rest."

Megan nodded, her stomach squeezing with anxiety.

Tomorrow she would have left her past behind. Tomorrow, her new life would have begun.

Tag list: @mamawiggers1980 @avidreader73 @pomtherine

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune part two #paul atreides #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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keurimi · 2 days

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OF HEXES AND LOVE POTIONS: chapter one

masterlist

if mark lee hated professor flitwick for always singling him out during class, then he definitely loathed him now.

mark was, admittedly, not the brightest student in hogwarts. if he were, then the sorting hat should’ve placed him with the brainy kids – the ravenclaws. but he wasn’t. he was just a regular lad in hufflepuff. embarrassingly, he was failing charms. he had barely passed the first two years (note: barely), but with every spell becoming more and more complicated, his skills needed to be at least average. furthermore, he had expressed to his parents of his dream of becoming an auror, basically someone who protects the wizarding world. it was a must for him to pass the most of basic of subjects which is charms.

he really wasn’t expecting much when flitwick called him to his office. he guessed that the goblin might’ve wanted to give him a proper scolding to motivate him to study (which would’ve been unfair because he really was trying), or another one of his “charms for dummies!” spell books for him to read. what he wasn’t expecting, though, was a first-year slytherin student sat in front of flitwick, not even giving him a glance.

flitwick ushered for mark to sit down, to which he obliged. “this, boy, is y/n from the slytherin house. she is undoubtedly one of the best witches of her year.” mark saw you sat up as flitwick complimented you.

“she’s very proficient in first year spells that i actually taught her the second-year ones, to which she has shown proficiency in as well. and alas, as i taught her the third-year spells, the results were all the same. she is ahead of her cohorts, this girl.” flitwick continued.

mark felt his eye twitch. was this goblin really just looking for an audience to praise some first-year? and picked his worst student at that? he held himself back from saying some . . unbecoming words that could get him into detention. his silence urged flitwick to continue speaking.

“due to her outstanding performance in charms, she will be tutoring you for the rest of the term.”

“what?!” you and mark both exclaimed.

“sir, i appreciate the compliments and your trust in my skills –” mark barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at your words. “but i cannot possibly have the time to tutor someone, someone who is supposed to be more advanced than i am!”

“and sir, i am aware of my performance in class, but really, asking a first-year to do this? my pride is hurt, sir!” mark almost yelled, much to flitwick’s dismay.

“silence, lee.” flitwick glared at mark, shutting him up. “y/n is the perfect candidate to be your tutor, as i’ve realized you require more than one educator for you to improve.” the goblin sighed. “she is a first year, with no extracurriculars yet and with a much lighter workload. you tutoring lee, miss y/n, will not affect your grades in any way shape or form.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but before you could do so, flitwick spoke once more. “could you help a goblin out, miss y/n? the last thing i want is failing a student, it’s such a hassle for me to handle the paperwork. i’m getting old, and stress is catching up with me.”

you paused for a bit, sparing the 3rd year who was slumping and pouting on his chair a glance, and sighed in defeat. “fine, i’ll do it.”

mark, in his thirteen years of being alive, had never absolutely felt the word embarrassment right to his core, not until now.

it wasn’t much of a surprise that his group of friends were suddenly informed of his. . academic situation with a first-year slytherin. gossip travels quickly in hogwarts, that he knows as much. it was also just to his luck that you were an acquaintance of jisung’s, and jisung isn’t exactly well-known for keeping secrets. he eventually spilled the beans to chenle, who was always hanging out with jeno, and jeno seemed to favor jaemin’s company so naturally, jaemin found out as well. jaemin shared a dorm room with haechan, who was another loud mouth that kept hovering around renjun, and eventually, the news reached renjun, who had way too many friends in the ravenclaw house for mark’s liking, and they found out about it too.

eventually, the entire castle found out that a thirteen-year-old’s tutor was an eleven-year-old. definitely nothing weird about that.

for the following weeks, mark had to live through snickers and stares as he walks down the castle’s hallways. the attention got even worse whenever students would spot him with you on school grounds.

and speaking of you, well, mark thought you were a brat.

it was never a good idea for a child to teach another child (“like the blind leading the blind”, haechan had once quipped). you were temperamental, stoic, and strict at the same time. you got mad quite easily and always raised your voice whenever you felt the slightest frustration (which would only escalate since mark loves pressing your buttons). he found your pursed lips, furrowed eyebrows, and huffing whenever mark makes a mistake amusing, that was until you decided to punish him with a light hex if he ever made you mad.

the tutoring hours were long, too. after class, he’d take a quick bite at the great hall and spend almost four hours with someone he deemed a variant of an angry goblin. those sessions were extra hellish when his friends would sit and watch.

tldr, mark was just exhausted. he was tired of seeing you, his friends’ teasings, the looks on everyone’s faces, and flitwick’s expectations of him.

he let out a long sigh, catching your attention.

“you know, we’d finish much earlier if you were doing it right.” you mumbled grumpily.

“i’m trying, okay?” mark replied through gritted teeth. today, you had decided to teach him about the tickling spell, rictusempra, by making him apply it to a beetle. “i don’t think beetles can even feel this spell.”

“well, it’d probably react.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“probably?”

“oh, just do it!”

the next day, mark lee felt tired.

it felt like he exhausted all of his strength trying to conduct the spell correctly onto an animal that he’s almost a hundred percent sure cannot be tickled. he kept muttering the words ‘rictusempra’ over and over again, making sure his wand was facing the direction of the beetle (he can also clearly hear you scold him for waving his wand willy-nilly).

mark, who was hunched over the table in the great hall, felt a light tap on his shoulder. he looked up and saw his friends grinning. “need some company?”

“if you’re just gonna piss me off, then no. i don’t need company.” mark groaned.

haechan cooed and sat beside him, the other boys following suit. “aw c’mon, it’s probably not that bad.”

“yeah, for you.”

jaemin slid a plate of food in front of mark. “hey, it’s best if you get some grub. you’re probably stressed out enough.”

mark sniffled and snuggled jaemin’s arm. “aw man, you’re literally my best friend!” which resulted into haechan whining and the others rolling their eyes.

mark went back to his charms textbook and the spell he’s been practicing for almost a day now as the guys continued their own conversations. “rictusempra!” mark whispered, waving his wand mindlessly as he chewed on his bread, re-reading his charms notes.

his attention was averted to the sudden piercing scream, no, it was a laugh – from the slytherin table.

the laugh felt too familiar, and it sent chills down mark’s spine.

he tried to look for the source of the sound. his wavering gaze fell on your wriggling figure on top of the table in front of him, you were laughing, crying, screaming uncontrollably. he froze when your eyes met his. oh, fuck, was all he could think about.

“mark lee – HAHAHAHA – you frigging – HAHAHAHA bastard! HAHAHAHA!”

he saw haechan and jaemin run towards your figure, with slight panic and amusement painted on their faces at the same time. chenle gripped mark’s shoulder and watched as haechan, with jaemin trudging along, struggled to carry you out of the great hall. “dude, you’re fucked.

taglist: @soobiary @msbyswife @pinknjm @peterparkerluvvbot @kodasity @llearlert @artstaeh @b-riize @soonyoonswoo

a/n: after so long! i’m so sorry for the delay guys! i’m a graduating university student so things got out of hand kinda quick; but i managed to pull through! thanks to everyone who waited & thanks to everyone who congratulated me in getting into med school lol I LOVE U ALL SMSMSM!

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#nct dream #nct #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct dream scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct dream headcanons #nct dream fics #mark lee fics #mark lee scenarios #mark lee headcanons #mark lee imagines

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paper-gold-theories · 5 hours

Note

Say, what do you think Goldheart and Flug's relationship is like if Flug didn't become a villain and worked as a scientist for P.E.A.C.E instead? It is like that Goldheart is a bit older by maybe three years or so and was already a hero by the time Miss Heed saw him on television. Would that mean him and Flug would have never met? Considering that Flug didn't really continue becoming super villain. How would they even meet? What do you think is gonna happen in that scenario?

P.E.A.C.E. Scientist Flug AU (featuring some PaperGold)

I theorized that since there is a villain school there would also be a hero school, my headcanon it's called P.E.A.C.E. Academy School of Heroes.

In the hero school the heroes like GoldHeart would be assigned heroic missions under the watchful eyes of their teachers and mentors and can go on solo missions or fight villains on their own as long as they hit a certain criteria or get a certificate after a stage of their training in school.

The villain school should be the same for Flug.

---

If Flug ended up working as a P.E.A.C.E. scientist, in the begining he would definitely do work such as invent/manufacture/improve weapons, serums to give powers, ect.

Meanwhile, GoldHeart would still be looking for a hero with super powers and/or anything that can be used to mind-control villains in order to end Villainy forever and made an announcement to give the P.E.A.C.E. heroes, scientist an opportunity to pitch their ideas and in return give a position to be a member or employed under The Golden Rule.

Flug sees this as a good opportunity to advance his career so he submits his proposal to The Golden Rule about using his thesis on altering human emotions (that he created while he was in middle school) to create a formula to end villany forever.

Shortly he was shortlisted and was scheduled to give The Golden Rule his pitch and show them a demonstration of a prototype formula for The Golden Rule.

----

GoldHeart has never met Flug before this, but has heard many positive things about Flug's work from the higher-ups and other heroes despite only just started working as a scientist a few months ago. As well as negative things from some heroes such as him being weirdo nerd.

When first met Flug during the day he gives his pitch to him and his team, he was absolutely smitten at the sight of the cutie.

He thought that even if Flug's pitch and formula ends up completely garbage he will de initely hit him up afterwards for a date.

----

Flug starts his pitch on how his formula works and afwerwards demonstration of a prototype of the formula he created with a volunteer test subject.

GoldHeart was absolutely impressed and so was The Golden Rule and decided right then and then that Flug's pitch is the the best and awards him the position as The Golden Rule scientist.

____

Afterwards Flug got a lab in The Golden Rule and continues to work to perfect the formula to GoldHeart's specifications. And eventually ends up dating GoldHeart not to long afterwards.

When he was asked by GoldHeart he was caught off guard:

GoldHeart, smirks: Cute and smart is there anything you can't do?

Flug, flattered: Aww thank you...*flustered* wait what?

_____

Afterwards even though Flug was only supposed to be a scientist GoldHeart wants Flug to be a hero as well. So one day, GoldHeart asks Flug if he ever cosidered becoming a hero. Flug said he did try to apply a few times for hero training however they rejected him because he doesn't "fit the image of a hero" and because he won't get powerful superpowers if they give him the serums available after they did the tests on him.

GoldHeart responds that a lot of heroes got where there are not just because of their image or skill set but because they have connections and know someone or (or alot of times because they are rich).

And GoldHeart says he believes that Flug can become an exceptional hero. so he will vouch for him to attend hero training.

Flug was touched and agrees.

----

So Flug ended taking hero training while he is doing his job as a scientist. And despite Flug believing that he should complete hero training first, and learn the theories, basics and scenarios fist,

GoldHeart believes in "learning on the job" will help Flug become a hero faster and was able to convince Flug, desp te his hesitance to go heroic missions and fight crime and villains.

____

The Golden Rule Members aren't to thrill of Flug being a part of their team, they were already not too thrilled that their team leader dating the Flug who although has done alot to benefit and help out their team, thinks GoldHeart can do better than a nerdy weirdo who won't benefit their leader's reputation, which also might affect their reputation because they are in his team. Having Flug as a part of The Golden Rule would definitely affect their image of being the most popular, cool, and trendy hero group in P.E.A.C.E.

However GoldHeart has already made up his mind and there was no way of changing it and one death glare was able to silence any protest they have about Flug. (So they would often keep their opinions to themselves or just talk among themselves when GoldHeart was not around)

Other heros are also jealous of Flug's fast progress despite having no superpowers and not having an image of a cool hero. And some even believed he only got so far only because he was dating GoldHeart.

So Flug will have to prove to everyone his capabilities as a hero.

----

GoldHeart supports Flug every step of the way and is quick to vouch and defend him and silence any falsen rumors spread a out him.

He says things may be rough at the start and things will get better. And its just a matter of time before others sees how great he is as a hero just like him.

___

(Note: If Flug and GoldHeart were dating but did not have the capability if a hero, GoldHeart would not allow Flug to be apart of The Golden Hero, but if Flug wanted to use GoldHeart's fame and to do his own thing, such as starting his own business, he would allow it and encourage it.)

_____

Additionally Flug never went to Black Hat Institute so Miss Heed never met Flug and was never able to steal his thesis.

Hence, she was unable to join The Golden Rule, but despite was still able to become a popular heroine at P.E.A.C.E. (but was still less popular as she foes not have Flug's mind controlling formula to get people to obsessively love her.)

How she managed to become a popular

heroine is similar to Villainous: through her father's money and and connections and her agent/community manger Anana Pina helping to maintain her popularity.

During fights her father also hired strong heroes to be her sidekicks and do all the work for her while she gets all the credit and recognition. Something like her dynamic with Omega and Coyote or also something like this (below):

(image source)

As she does not have the mind controlling perfume she also did not apply to get powers to complement the perfume (see theory) hence in this AU, she does not have superpowers and relies on money to get ahead and often takes credit for other people's work because of her laziness.

----

Similar to the other heroes, Miss Heed is jealous of Flug despite being similar to her having no super powers as well as his relationship with GoldHeart thinking "THAT SHOULD BE ME!"

And would glare seethingly at him every time she crosses paths with Flug.

Miss Heed would definitely spread false rumors mouth about him on social media if she could however there was a strict rule in P.E.A.C.E. not to bad mouth any heroes (as it would affect the reputation if they do) and anyone who does so would face disciplinary action from the board (GoldHeart who would not take to kindly to anyone spreading false rumors about his boyfriend), hence she results to complaining and bad mouthing Flug to other heroes and the people in her circle such as her sidekicks, assistants, agent and her hero "friends".

And other methods:

She spends most of the time competing against Flug in everything and tries GoldHeart's attention so that she can prove that she is better than him (most as petty things like merch sales, chocolate bar sales, brand sponsors who can sign the most autographs, get the most likes in one post, modeling, building a sand castle, get more people to arrive at their birthday party, or during team challenges in P.E.A.C.E. hero retreats/company bonding activities, ect) and more fit to be a member of The Golden Rule and GoldHeart's lover than Flug.

(Such as loudly praising her own accomplishments and awards in front of a large crowd in front of Flug or saying how much nicer her costume is at a party)

Flug finds the whole thing rather annoying and dreads the interaction and tries to ignore her baiting but sometimes would agree to her competition due to her utter persistence wearing him down.

GoldHeart is annoyed and angry and would often ignore her and/or yells and threatened her during her attempts at getting his attention or saying anything bad about her boyfriend making her feel utterly humiliated and embarrassed that her crush hates her so much.

And would also cheer on his boyfriend in his competition and would lavish him with praise and affection every time he wins or loses. (He wins most of the time)

Making Miss Heed even more jealous, angry and frustrated at Flug's relationship with GoldHeart. And even screaming and throwing a hysterical tantrum.

Ironically her obsession of beating Flug ended up making her lose her popularity as she starts to prioritise beating Flug over her own reputation which Flug always beats her in the competition when he indulges her at times and nearly all the attempts lead to utter humiliation and make her look more desperate and/or to embarrass herself.

_____

Along the way Miss Heed's crazy obsession with Flug will make her develop some feelings for Flug leading her to kiss him at the heat of the moment during one of their competitions. This caused Flug to be shocked and GoldHeart to punch Miss Heed in the face for kissing his boyfriend.

#villainous #villanos #dr flug #dr kenning flugslys #goldheart #gold heart #herbert leth #flug #villainous headcanons #villainous au #villainous miss heed #cecilia amanda kelly #villanous theory #villainous omega nuclear #villainous coyote

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racharii · 23 hours

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coming from an enby whos tme (tho i myself am not transmasc), i feel like a lot of transmasc people are doing this "have their cake and eat it too" thing where they want to be perceived as men or men adjacent, in our society a part of the oppressor class, while also still wanting to benefit from structures meant to protect against said class. specifically ones that have been set up in queer spaces. ive met quite a few trans men who were just as vehemently misogynysitic as your average dude bro. and (this is speculation based on convos ive had with trans men im not in every transmascs head) a lot of transmascs have a lot of internalized misogyny that they project onto trans women. ive had an irl ex friend of mine say something that i think encapsulates this particular issue fairly well. this was like 8 years ago, we were talking about trans rep in media (specifically orange is the new black iirc) so im paraphrasing; 'its messed up that we (afabs in this context) are sidelined for people who used to be men, we cant escape the patriarchy.' that was horribly transmisogynistic, so lets unpack it.

it assumes that trans women are just men

it assumes sex essentialism, that they and i were just women. that we were just poor Females having 'our space' encroached on by mean 'former men.'

im not saying that all transmascs think like this ofc. #notallmen. im saying that some do, and enough transmascs have internalized misogyny and not enough self reflection.

just because you are trans doesnt mean you are immune to bigotry and recouping oppressive structures. none of us are free of Sin™️. you as an individual have to make an effort to reflect on your thoughts and actions and how they might affect yourself and others, so that you are not a willing participant of our communities oppression.

for example, ive talked a lot privately about my journey to being a better person, (and pobodies nerfect, its always a learning process, you always will have things you can improve on. and thats okay, were all just human) i initially hated it/its pronouns. 'it' gave me the ick. i was called 'it' as a kid incessantly to make fun of my gender presentation, i couldnt fathom someone else finding peace and even euphoria in using it/its. i bought into the conservative talking points about neopronouns and it/its being detrimental to the trans community. they were "the bad transes" and me? well i use they/them but shakespeare used the singular they so im fine :), im one of the good ones. then one day, i was listening to some video essay idr what or who, but something they said stuck with me, "if it/its makes me happy, why do you care? how does 'it' hurt you really?" my trauma is not everyones trauma, people will find comfort in things that i wont, and thats okay. 'it' hurt me when i was young, by cruel kids and uncaring adults. why am i hurting my community, my fellow transes, by continuing to deny them their autonomy to identify how they like? so i got over 'it.' i saw the real harm was the fucking wedge being driven between us by conservative grifters trying to pick off the weakest in the herd before they go in for the rest of us.

visibility isnt necessarily a good thing for marginalized people. transfemmes are the biggest target of hate in our community atm. they unfortunately serve as the canary. global fascism is on the rise and to be frank, a targeted hate campaign against a trans woman is asking for her to be killed. outed, paraded as a freak, doxxed, swatted, killed. protect trans women, fascism doesnt stop with one group nor will you be saved by being "one of the good ones." trans solidarity, even the people you dont like, even if you think theyre icky or gross or whatever the fuck else you do Not give up trans solidarity. you dont make callout posts, you dont send death threats, you dont send hate mail, if you dont like someone Block Them and move on.

we stand together or we will be eradicated.

#sorry this turned into a rant about impending fascism #but its all connected #rach rants #real cut a liberal a fascist bleeds vibes here recently #also im not proof reading this so sorry for typos #trans

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uniquexusposts · 1 day

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Her || Charles Leclerc

Intro

As Matilde Jørgensen arrived at the track of Bahrain, the excitement in the air was palpable. It was the first race of the year, the season's opening, and now, Matilde was about to experience it from a whole new perspective.

She had just arrived at the track, holding her pass in front of the scanner. It made the familiar sound, and she entered the paddock. People were waiting for her, eager to capture the first glances of the woman entrusted with leading one of the most illustrious teams in Formula 1 history. Cameras were held up, and photos were taken. A casual smile curved on her lips, and she passed everyone, making her way to the Ferrari hospitality. She tightened her grip on the handles of her purse; she couldn't help but feel a rush of nerves. The weight of her new role, the team's expectations, and the media's scrutiny all bore down on her shoulders. Her heart raced as she took a deep breath, determined to face the challenges head-on. Never had she felt more nervous to enter the track than today. It was the first time she had appeared in the red outfit.

As she was told, the first stop was at the press conference. As she stepped inside the room, she was surrounded by a sea of journalists, cameras and microphones. Matilde looked at the couch, already seeing Toto Wolff and Christian Horner waiting for her. Swallowing her anxiety, she walked towards the couch and sat between her old boss and opponent.

As the press conference began, all eyes were focused on the woman in the middle. The barrage of questions began, and while Matilde had always been a composed strategist in the confines of the team's strategy room, facing the press was an entirely different ballgame.

"Matilde Jørgensen! How does it feel to be leading Ferrari, one of the most iconic teams in Formula 1 history?" Reporter 1 asked.

Matilde took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves before she responded. "It's an incredible honour to be a part of this legendary team, and I'm truly excited about the opportunity to work with such talented individuals. But, of course, it's also nerve-wracking; the expectations are high, and I want to deliver the best results for Ferrari."

"What can we expect from you as Team Principal? How do you plan to lead Ferrari to success?" Reporter 2 asked.

Matilde's eyes sparkled with determination as she answered. "My focus will be on fostering a collaborative and innovative environment within the team. I firmly believe that success comes from teamwork and open communication. We'll work hard to improve our strategies and maximise the potential of our drivers and cars."

As the questions continued, Matilde felt the weight of the responsibility she now carried. The legacy of Ferrari's racing history rested on her shoulders, and she knew that the spotlight would be on her every move.

"But some critics question whether you have enough experience for such a role. How do you respond to that?"

She felt a pang of insecurity, but she knew she had to address this head-on. "I understand the doubts, but I've been in motorsport for years, and I believe in my abilities. I have seen how Christian leads Red Bull, and I have already learned a lot from him. I obviously will approach leading the team differently and in my own way. My focus is on bringing Ferrari back to the top, and I have the support of a fantastic team behind me."

"How do you plan to handle the pressure, especially in a fiercely competitive sport like Formula 1?"

A hint of a smile crossed her face as she replied. "Pressure is a part of this sport, and I welcome the challenge. I have the utmost confidence in our team's abilities, and we're all driven by the same goal—to win. We'll take each race as it comes, learn from our experiences, and keep pushing forward."

This was an important moment for her and the team. She understood the importance of this moment and the need to establish her presence as the new leader of Scuderia Ferrari. Gathering her composure, Matilde responded to each question with grace, displaying her extensive knowledge of the sport and her vision for the team's future. The press conference continued for some time, with Matilde eloquently addressing each question thrown her way. Her excitement and passion for the sport were evident, but beneath it all, she couldn't entirely shake off a layer of nervousness. It was weird to be at the conference, to hear answers from Christian and Toto. Usually, she would hear it in the briefing. The transition from strategist to team principal was a significant one, and she knew it would come with its own set of challenges. It was also weird that she wasn't an employee of Christian anymore, she was now his opponent. Or, well, he was her opponent.

As the last question was about to be asked, Matilde felt a wave of relief wash over her. She listened carefully to the journalist. "Why did you choose Ferrari?"

"I like a challenge," was her answer, and she smiled. She had made it through her first media interaction as Scuderia Ferrari's team principal. She knew this was just the beginning of a challenging and rewarding journey.

After the press conference, as the journalists dispersed, Toto Wolff and Christian Horner exited the conference room. Toto, the Mercedes team principal, walked away to attend to his team's preparations for the race. Christian lingered for a moment, giving Matilde a warm smile and a nod of approval when she followed him back to the paddock.

Christian smiled, "Well done, Matilde. You handled that like a true team principal."

Matilde blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, Christian."

"You've always been a top strategist, Matilde. I have no doubt you'll excel as the team principal at Ferrari. It's a big step, but I have faith in you."

Matilde's nervousness began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie with her former boss. The years spent working side by side at Red Bull Racing had forged a special bond between them, and now, they found themselves on opposite sides of the competitive spectrum.

"I must admit, Matilde, I am still perplexed by the fact that you made the move. Are you sure you had enough of a challenge at Red Bull?" Christian asked.

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, more than a challenge, but I was curious to see how it would go at Ferrari. It is a historic team, and as you said before, something has to change."

"I hope they won't make it too difficult for you."

A chuckle left her mouth. "Me neither."

"But it is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I wish you all the best. And if you want to come back, I am just one phone call away," he playfully said and stepped away.

"Don't worry, we will fight on the track," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

Christian laughed, "Oh, I do not doubt that. But Red Bull won't back down easily!" With a final grin on his face, Christian headed off to join his team, leaving Matilde standing there, the nerves now replaced with a newfound sense of purpose and excitement.

As the day went on, Matilde could feel the energy of the team building around her. The drivers, engineers, and mechanics all looked to her for guidance, and she was ready to lead them with the same passion and dedication she had displayed in the press conference.

This was just the beginning of her journey as team principal, and she knew there would be ups and downs along the way. But as she looked out at the Bahrain circuit, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement.

This was Matilde Jørgensen, Scuderia Ferrari's newly appointed team principal, about to face one of the most nerve-wracking challenges of her life.

Co writer: @mistrose23

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc #fanfic #carlos sainz #max verstappen #kevin magnussen #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #motorsports

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