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mphountitled · 6 months

Note

more dom!hazel would be so appreciated if u can hehe 🫶🫶

+ another anon who asked for a cleaning bruises fic

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 & 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Summary: "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?"

Warnings: Established Relationship, Hyper feminine!Reader, PJ as her own warning, Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Violence, Cleaning Hazel's bruises, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Fighting Kink?, Fingering, Dom!Hazel, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Overstimulation

Can be seen as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

Your afternoon had been almost perfect, with Hazel nestled between your open legs just a step lower on the school bleachers. Her head had been thrown back, with her curls running rampant against your skin and tickling your chest. You smoothed her hair down in vain intervals while she played with a loose string on the stitiching of your plaid skirt as she droned on and on about the unlikelihood of being enlisted as a bomb tech by the US Army.

"I don't really know where else I could use my particular set of expertise. What else could I do that won't ultimately lead me down the path of... you know, treason and terrorism?" You nod vaguely as Hazel continues her equal parts aloof and equal parts worrying rants. All while combining your fingers through her hair, "I mean, I just feel like World War III is probably upon us, you know-"

"Ugh, could you guys get a room?" You had been so enamored by Hazel's ranting that you failed to notice PJ at first. Her and Josie made their slow ascent on the bleachers until their shadows blocked your afternoon sun.

"Could you get a girlfriend?" The words had snipped off your tongue with harsh vexation as you instinctively cradled Hazel closer to your chest.

"Jesus-" Hazel had muttered, as she craned her neck up to stare at PJ and a disgruntled Josie, "Why are you trying to hijack my boob time?"

You had to reign in all murderous intentions as PJ grabbed hold of Hazel's forearms and forcibly dragged her up off the bleachers… out of your arms.

"You don't get boob time until we all get boob time. And need I remind you that you're going to be late for Fight Club," You heaved a very loud, very obnoxious sigh as you tilted your head backwards, letting the rays bounce off your pink sunglasses, "You guys should seriously get a room." Said PJ, "Stop giving the entire football team a show. Come on, you're setting us back like 69 years-"

Before PJ sunk her claws into Hazel completely, she bent down until her lips pressed against your cheek, and she whispered, "I'll see you back at my place, yeah?"

Your heart deflated at her confirmation that she was indeed leaving you for Fight Club, "Hazel..."

"Shh, shut up. Just say yes,"

But before you could wrack your brain for something coherent to say, PJ had already begun to make her descent off the bleachers, taking your girlfriend along with her.

You did not hate PJ, nor were you her biggest fan at the best of times. However, nights like tonight made your vexation grow to unimaginable heights simply because PJ is completely and utterly inescapable.

This evening, however, waiting for Hazel to get back from Figh Club, had been perfect. Etta James had been oozing through The Callahan's home speakers as you prepared the butternut soup- Hazel's favourite Post Fight Club recovery meal (although she hated admitting it, because she did not want to put you out of your way).

You are perfectly content, trapped in your web of make-believe as you prance around Hazel's kitchen, assembling your respective bowls needed for the soup. Mrs Callahan had let you in, as she always did after school, with a dismissive wave while she babbled into the receiver of her iPhone. Before she completely disappeared into the innards of her sprawling house, Mrs Callahan vaguely threw over her shoulder "Hazel is at her thing until 5 but I'm sure you've been made aware," and you were left in this great big labyrinth to entertain yourself.

Sex had been even more seldom, given that Hazel was rarely ever in any shape to commence any form of coitus due to the various bruises popping up in unlikely places. You wish you can safely tell yourself you despised seeing her bloody and battered state - that you gain absolutely nothing from Fight Club and that you most likely never will.

But you're staring dreamily into the pot of soup, and you're stirring and stirring, with your heart racing in anticipation of Hazel's inevitable return with her inevitable bruises smeared across her perfect little face.

You had not planned on cooking for anyone because seducing Hazel in her inevitably bloodied state was on the forefront of your mind, and Mrs Callahan had a very tempting bright pink apron hanging on the hook.

So perhaps you did do this all for her.

Perhaps you were waiting for her, to stride on through the foyer, nursing a streak of dried blood down her nose, eager to catch her reaction at seeing you so comfortable in her space while you rushed to swoop in and fawn over her.

This near perfect daydream might have actually manifested…

Were it not for PJ's loud and obnoxious voice bleeding into the kitchen from the foyer, accompanied by the heavy groan of the front door slamming shut. Your shoulders visibly sag as you empty the rest of the soup into your bowl just as the trio rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh my God - soup!" PJ exclaimed rushing towards you with her gaze zeroed in on the bowl locked firmly in your hand. You had been so focused on keeping the bowl from PJ's incessant grabby hands that you failed to see the dazed, almost breathless look that sprinkled over Hazel's face who drifted slowly behind Josie despite this being her house.

Suddenly, every thought about the impending bruise she was facing due to not dodging a right hook earlier vanished from her mind like doves in the wind. Hazel's head was completely flooded with the image of you, in her kitchen, with your cute as fuck little skirt grazing just above your knee.

This almost did not feel real. Less than a month ago, no one barely blinked in her direction, but now...

So enamored was Hazel by your act of service, she nearly failed to catch PJ's innate need to flirt whenever you were in the vicinity.

"You look hot by the way," PJ had slyly said, still reaching for the bowl of steaming soup, which you only drew higher above your head.

"Sorry PJ, only people who make me cum get to eat my cooking."

"Is that an invitation?" She asked, leaning against the counter, "That sounded like an invitation."

Hazel cleared her throat, finally succeeding in having your eyes wash over her. "Can we probably not talk about you fucking my girlfriend, maybe, I think?" She said cooly, discarding her bag somewhere on the floor before making her up closer towards you. Her slouch was even more prominent and you swear the air in your lungs thinned as she brushed up beside you and muttered, "Hey,"

"Hey yourself." And Hazel's tummy instantly warmed as you discarded the bowl on the counter, turning to cup her cheeks in your hands as you observed her latest shiners acquired from Fight Club. Something sinister flashed through Hazel's mind as your big dark eyes scanned over her visage, eyeing the new bruise splotched across her eye and the horizontal laceration on her cheek.

"It doesn't hurt," She can barely find her words under the overwhelming feeling of your care and attention. Your scent is all encompassing, and before she ever allows for anymore of her arousal to stain her boxers Hazel attempts to draw her face out of your palm.

"Jesus, Hazel!" You squeal, pulling her head down closer to your height, until Hazel has to support herself with a hand on the counter behind you, "Please don't tell me you were sparring with anyone on the football team again!"

You hoped you succeeded in masking how turned on that thought actually got you...

Hazel's voice is deep and low as she replies,

"Jeff said that if I can at least dodge his left, left, right hook next time, I could probably be ready for the whole team." You breathe out and airy laugh almost the same time as her, the both of you silently aware of what the other was doing.

"Ugh, you're such a virgin." PJ mutters under a mouthful of soup.

"I literally have a girlfriend," Hazel mutters without looking away. Her gaze was nearly trapped in yours as she allowed you to pull her limp body away from PJ and Josie. "Come on, I need to clean you up."

And that's how you had found yourself, cross-legged on Hazel's bed with her leaning against the headboard like your Oh so compliant little patient. Her gaze is yet to waver from yours, in fact, cleaning the laceration had been utter hell, right up until this point because Hazel had taken to drawing various circles against the skin of your exposed thigh.

The skirt had ridden up marginally from your seating position, and Hazel seems perfectly fine toying with your various emotions.

"You look really pretty," Hazel breathed out as if those words were sitting heavily on her heart ever since you applied the wet gauze against her left cheek. You try to hold your composure, keeping a firm eye on the dressing of Hazel's wound as you say, "I don't really think I want you going to fight club anymore,"

"Tch'yeah okay," she snickers dismissively, "Hey, is this skirt new? It's hot- like 'gay 50s housewife' kinda hot," There's an edge to her voice that has Hazel sitting taller against the headboard before incriminatingly letting her hands drift just a little higher on your thigh. Your breathing becomes heavier as you fight hard to maintain your crumbling composure.

"I'm serious, Hazel," you had begun to whisper. Why had you begun to whisper?

"I don't wanna have to stitch you up every time-"

As soon as the gauze was plastered onto her cheek, Hazel's head was already melting into your chest, nuzzling at your open cleavage exposed by your Pastel v-neck as she says, "God, I love it when you mommy me,"

"H-Hazel," any warning you tried to inject into your tone gets fizzled out by the embarrassing moan that escaped your lips as Hazel's teeth dragged lightly against the skin of your chest. Her hands were restless, as if she was testing herself as to how far she'd allow herself to go so quickly.

You suck in so much air as Hazel's palm cradles the inside of your thigh and because you're cross legged, closing your legs is nearly impossible. "Fuck, I'm so turned on, right now," her voice cracks as she brings her face up from your boobs. Pressing a hand to your cheek, she tries and fails to bring your lips towards hers.

Hazel frowns as you say,

"You think it makes me feel good seeing you like this?"

You ignore the budding voice in your head echoing the loud and very obnoxious 'yes, yes you do like seeing her like this. You like seeing that reckless smile blossom onto her cracked and battered face. It gets you wet and you know it does-'

But your voice is full of fragile conviction as you say, "You think I like seeing my girlfriend beaten up everyday of the week?"

Hazel blinks once before she succinctly replies, "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?" An entire desert ecosystem is suddenly born inside your mouth, and you swallow thickly as your eyes evade Hazel's uncomplicated, piercing gaze. She tilts her head, smiles gone, simply waiting for your response.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" She asks before steadily closing the distance between you once more. Only, you're so terrified of being caught out, so utterly embarrassed at the thought of her finding out about the pool of wetness that had begun soaking completely through your panties, that you back away the closer she gets. Your slinking backwards only allows Hazel to crawl closer until she's hovering above you in the centre of her bed.

You have her undivided attention, and she has yours. Your eyes recklessly scans her face, every cut, laceration, and every old bruise buried under a new one has your lips turning downward as a small, almost imperceptible whimper forces itself out of your throat.

"There she is…" Hazel whispers with a palm cradling your cheek, "There's my needy little girl," You're quickly slipping into subspace right in front of her and Hazel is more than grateful. A single silver pendant dangles from her throat as she dips down, finally connecting your lips in a quietly passionate kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut, and so does hers. The both of you are utterly enamored by the sheer lust communicated by the intensity of the kiss alone.

"Fuck," Hazel curses, momentarily breaking apart to peel off her oversized graphic tee. You're watching your girlfriend in her sports bra with unbridled lust shining heavily on your pouty lips.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She says, "Please, Baby."

You're slipping deeper and deeper but you still have half a mind to lightly whisper, "Hazel, they're right downstairs-" She's already crashing her lips back down onto yours.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She murmurs against your lips, never being able to stray too far.

The hand that isn't holding her up, hovering above you, is once again, underneath your skirts, only this time, the tips of her fingers are dragging up against your inner thigh with no chance of stopping.

"Fuck, Hazel,"

"Is that supposed to be an answer?"

You're already pulling your own hips off the bed, seeking her hand out like a whore as you break the kiss only to whimper, "Yes, okay, fine! I'm so wet for you, Hazel- just, please!"

She watches completely fargone as you let your soaked panties meet her awaiting palm. Watching you grind yourself against her hand has Hazel's mind absolutely descending into lust.

"God, you're so beautiful," she says, before finally pressing her own hand against your soaked panties. She rubs in harsh, rough circles, eager to bring you to the very edge of insanity. She needed to see you fall apart for her again and again-

"Inside," You whisper, watching your girlfriend rub your cunt with bated breath. You're still wearing your skirt but you figure Hazel needs to fuck you in it to fulfil some sort of fantasy and you don't entirely mind. Not at all.

"Hazel, Please. I need you inside-"

"Fuck- you're such a slut-"

Your head immediately falls back against the bed as Hazel's movements against your soaked panties increases.

"You like it when I call you a slut, baby?" Your hips stutter upwards in vague response as you moan loudly into the air.

"Fuck- Hazel, I'm close- I'm so fucking- fuck," the orgasm sneaks up on you like a villain in the night and you're spamming underneath her, while Hazel continues to rub your cunt through the torrid sensation. Before you've ever even come down from your high, there's a knock on the door, and look towards it with slightly parted lips and blurry vision.

"Hey- you have no more soup, and I think you two are fucking in there so Josie and I are just gonna g-"

"Fuck off, PJ!" Hazel screams at the door, failing to hear the small little 'Okay, rude' before she's lifting your skirt until they're pooling at your hips.

"Hazel, what're you-"

"Another one, okay?" She nods encouragingly before shifting your panties aside and pressing the colds tips of her forefinger and middle finger against your soaked cunt. "You're going to give me another one. I wanna see if I can do it."

You can't even roll your eyes at her unnecessary display of pride because your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as she drags the essence of your arousal along your clit. "Fuck, you look so hot-"

"H-Hazel," the aftershocks from your previous orgasm rack through your upper body just as the oncoming tempest of lust gears you up for the next one. Hazel leans over you once more as she continues to rub at your clit, "Just one more, baby, I know you can do it. Show me, baby." It's downright evil, the effect her manipulation has on your body as you descend further and further into your lust.

"Look at how perfect you look," she says with a voice thick with lechery, "Fuck, you get me so wet to, baby," she murmurs before instinctive pressing her lips to yours once again, as if something nestled in her being, craved the touch of your lips against hers.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Fuck- Hazel-"

"I'm right here, angel," she whispers, before bringing the tips of her fingers to your opening. Hazel is quick to slide her index and middle finger into your pussy until she's fucking you hard and deep. It takes a few short pumps for you to clutch mindlessly at her forearms with your vision slightly waning as you look up at your smiling girlfriend who watches you descend into your orgasm.

"That's it," she coos as you clench around her fingers, "You're doing so well for me, baby,"

"F-Fuck!" You stutter out as you fall into the depths of euphoria. Your mind is flooded with nothing but Hazel, all thoughts previously plaguing your brain is made null and void. In the end, you're just a beacon for her to release her frustrations out on. Even if it means overstimulating you until you become a noisy, helpless mess.

For a while, each other's heavy breathing is all you hear.

That is, until you hear a loud bump against Hazel's closed door, drawing both your attention.

"PJ-" whispers Josie with unimaginable frustration.

"Oh my God, they're definitely fucking-"

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x you #bottoms x reader #bottoms fanfic #bottoms movie

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archangeldyke-all · 6 months

Note

sevika in relathionship so pretty so fluff

an maybe hard sex.... and if your comfortable chasekink you know

ty for the requests!! i hope u enjoy :)

men and minors dni

first! fluffy sev relationship hcs!

i think she'd be guarded at first

she's completely obsessed with u, and it would freak her out.

so at first, she'd keep you at a distance, scared of how soft you make her feel.

she'd limit you guys to one or two dates a week. (even though she wants to spend every waking moment with you.)

she wouldn't spend the night, wouldn't invite you to her place. (she's scared she might have a heart attack if she sees you comfortable and domestic in her own home.)

but after a while, she realizes you aren't going anywhere. she doesn't have to keep you away, because you want to be with her just as much as she wants to be with you.

once she works this out (like 2/3 months in) it's a complete flip.

like overnight, sevika goes from being a bit distant and closed off to a complete romantic sap.

she's always touching you, whether it's hanging off you as you do chores around the house, or sliding a hand in your back pocket while shopping together.

she spends almost every night with you. moves you into her apartment as soon as you let her.

she's always doing thoughtful little favors for you, without you even having to ask.

like she overhears a conversation you're having with a friend and you mention how you're craving food from a specific restaurant.so she goes out to get take out from that place for dinner that night.

if you're in the shower, she'll throw your towels in the dryer for you so they're toasty warm when you get out.

she's always buying you things, or building you things, or bringing home cool things to show you. (totally the type of gf to give you cool rocks.)

as far as sevika chasing u/ hard sex, here's a little something i cooked up for u... (ft. amab sevika... or she's just strapped with the breeding strap 24/7... it's up to u)

singed, silco, and sevika are constantly experimenting with different variations of shimmer for various desired effects. most of the time, it's singed and silco watching rats react to drops of the drug. but when they're satisfied with their trials and ready to test it on a larger subject, they'll call in sevika for help.

so one day, as sevika's leaving for work, she tells you that she'll be working late, to not worry if you don't see her for a while. you pout and ask her what'll be keeping her, she tells you her and 'the boys' were testing out some new variants. she kisses your pout away and promises to take you out for dinner over the weekend.

"should be interesting." she says, pulling her cloak over her head. "singed says the rats were goin' fuckin' crazy." you gulp.

"just be careful, sev." you plea, straightening her cloak out for her and tucking her hair behind her ears. she rolls her eyes. "don't roll your eyes. i want you back in one piece."

she leans into kiss you one final time. "don't worry baby. i'll see you tomorrow."

you wake up the next morning alone and cold. you curse your girlfriend for abandoning you, but go about your day without much concern.

when you get home that afternoon and sevika's still not back. you start to worry. when night falls and she's still not home, you throw on your coat and shoes and march down to the last drop.

you start getting more and more freaked the closer you get to the last drop. it's a friday night, and the usual crowd that would be lining the street to get in is nowhere to be seen. the neon eye isn't lit, and when you get to the front door, there's no lights on inside.

you try the handle.

nothing.

you knock.

nothing.

you're about five seconds away from breaking the glass when you hear the sound of the back door swinging open. sprinting around the building, you find silco and all his employees flooding out into the alley. all except sevika. silco freezes at the sight of you.

somewhere behind him, singed mumbles. "good, she's here."

terror seizes you.

"what did you do to her?" you demand.

"now, don't work yourself up into a tizzy, dear--" silco is cut off by a loud crash coming from inside the bar.

"there goes the barricade." ran mumbles. a few goons start to scatter, backing away from the bar then breaking out into sprints when more crashing begins. silco puts a hand on your shoulder, and singed begins to ramble behind him, nervously.

"sevika had an... unexpected reaction to the shimmer." silco slowly starts walking you backwards as singed continues to talk. glass shatters behind you. "it seems we may have accidentally triggered her, ahem..."

"her more primal instincts--" silco cuts in

"--yes! her primal instincts-- a little too intensely..."

"what does that mean?" you ask. silco laughs nervously.

"it's easier for you to just see for yourself." he says, guiding you through the doorway and into the back of the last drop. you snap around when you hear sevika's pained groan echo throughout the empty bar.

"where is she?" you demand. silco doesn't answer. you turn around to face him, but he's gone, and the back door is slamming in your face. "hey!" you say, pushing on the door. "what the fuck?" the door doesn't budge, and you can make out the shape of a dumpster being pushed in front of the exit through the frosted glass.

you blink in shock. what the fuck was happening?

you were quickly distracted by another whimper echoing through the halls. you took off into the bar, searching for sevika. "sev?" you call out. "sevika?" you made your way onto the dance floor, eyes scouring the trashed bar for your girlfriend. "sevika!"

a gasp sounds from behind the bar. you run over. "go away!" sevika growls. you ignore her, rounding the bar and crouching beside her where she's laying on the ground in the fetal position.

"it's me, baby, i'm here. what happened?" you ask, quickly putting your hands on her back, trying to turn her over.

"you need to get the fuck out of here, right now." sevika spits out. her voice is deep and raspy, and her shirt is soaked in sweat, the skin beneath it on fire. she seems... bigger somehow. like the shimmer added another ten pounds of muscle on top of her already chiseled body.

"what's going on baby?" you ask, tears running down your cheeks, pressing a kiss to her head. "tell me how i can help."

in the blink of an eye, sevika's flipping over and slamming you onto the ground, her mechanical hand encircling your throat and squeezing, cutting off your oxygen in a flash. you gasp, clawing at her copper hand. above you, sevika snarls, her spit drips down onto your face, her eyes glowing purple.

"you need to get the fuck out of here before i tear. you. apart." she growls. her teeth seem sharper. you shudder beneath her, struggling against her hold.

suddenly, sevika throws her body off yours, writhing in pain. you scramble to your feet, gasping for air, backing away from her. as soon as you get breath back in your lungs, you dash for the double doors in the front of the bar. behind you, you hear sevika snarl.

you flick the bolt on the doors and push, but the door doesn't budge. you can hear a chain and padlock clanging against each other with every shove you give the door.

you're going to kill silco if sevika doesn't kill you first.

turning around, you see sevika standing behind the bar, eyeing you like prey. her nostrils are flared, her eyes are dead set on you, teeth bared like she's going to rip your throat out. you damn near piss yourself.

you take off for the stairs, cursing when you hear sevika's footsteps take off after you. scrambling upstairs, you duck into silco's office, grabbing a chair and throwing it at the windowed wall behind his desk. a panel shatters, just barely big enough for you to fit through, and just as you're about to leap down to the street fifteen feet below you, a heavy hand lands on your nape, pulling you off your feet then hurling you toward the ground.

you land with a grunt, and then sevika lands on top of you.

"sevika!" you say, punching at her chest, trying to push her off you. "let me go!"

"i told you to get out of here and you didn't fuckin' listen." she growls above you. in all your flailing, you manage to claw sevika across her face. three lines of blood bubble up across her cheek. sevika stares down at you in shock and you stare up at her in fear. then, she laughs.

"you're cute when you're scared, honey." she says. the violent glint in her eye shifts to something you recognize a little more, and then she's flipping you, pinning you to the ground with a hand on your head, tearing your pants off with the other.

"sevika!" you gasp, scandalized. she doesn't hear you, shredding the fabric covering your ass until it's free. she smacks it, laughing at the way you squirm. "what the fuck are you doing!?"

"tried to kill everyone else. shoulda known i wouldn't wanna kill you, sweetheart." she growls. you shiver beneath her. "silco's smart, sending you in here."

"what the fuck are you talking-- oh!" suddenly, your panties are torn off your hips. "sevika!" you gasp.

above you, sevika rearranges herself. she pushes at your hips until your ass is up in the air, and you whimper. you gasp when you feel the sole of her rubber boot press down against your head, taking her hand's place. you struggle against her, and she smacks your ass, pressing her foot down against your head harder.

with two hands on your hips, she starts grinding her clothed buldge against your cunt. you whimper.

"sev-sevika what--"

"you're soaked." she snarls. "fuck, you're such a whore. choked you out and you're creamin' your panties." her voice is a mixture of disgust and admiration. your shaking like a leaf beneath her. "'m gonna put a fuckin' baby in you now." she growls. you gasp.

her hand leaves your hip for half a second to shove her waistband down, and then all at once, she's gripping your hip again, spitting on your fluttering asshole, shoving her cock inside you to the hilt.

you gasp at the stinging stretch in your cunt, tears welling up in your eyes. sevika has no mercy, not giving you a moment to adjust before she starts pounding into you.

"i'd fuckin' live in this cunt if i could." she grunts as she smacks your ass. you whine. "feels so good."

"sev!" you screech. "slow down!"

she doesn't slow down, instead she spits in her hand and reaches around you to start rubbing your clit. "that better baby?" she asks. you gasp. "yeah, that's better." she answers for you, rutting her hips against your ass.

the tip of her dick is nudging your cervix, and pleasure quickly starts taking over the pain. she fills you so fucking well, like her cock was made for you, like your cunt was made for her. she grunts behind you. "yeah babe?" she asks. oh shit, you must've been talking out loud. you nod as best as you can beneath her boot.

"yeah." you moan.

"you want my cum?" she asks again. you shudder.

"yes!" you screech. she chuckles.

"you first. milk it outta me." she grunts. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cunt clenching hard around her. she whimpers, her hold on you tightening. "cum on my cock baby." she grunts, smacking your ass. that's all it takes for you to fall apart beneath her.

your legs shake as you cum, and sevika growls, her foot lifting off your head and settling behind you to get better leverage as she fucks her cock as deep as it can go inside you. She gives her hips three more thrusts before she's groans, her hot cum filling you up, and dripping down your thighs.

the two of you collapse simultaneously. she's crushing you with her weight but it's a comforting crush, and you sigh happily. sevika kisses your head.

"you okay?" she asks.

"yeah." you say dreamily. she chuckles.

"'m sorry."

"not your fault." you mumble. "thanks for not killing me." she chuckles above you.

"hmm." she hums, nuzzling into the nape of your neck.

she's asleep in a moment, her breaths evening out and tickling your ear. with sevika laying on top of you, you don't have many other options beside falling asleep beneath her.

the next morning you're both woken up by silco standing in the doorway of his office with his back turned to you, clearing his throat. "i'll give you two privacy to... clean up and go home... i just wanted to make sure you survived the night." he says.

"silco!" you call before he can shuffle away. "you need to find a new human test subject." you say. he nods.

"yes, i agree. i'm already making arrangements to make that change." he says.

"good." you say. then, "and leave a few of those shimmer samples on the bar for us."

sevika muffles her laugh in your neck as the two of you watch silco's shoulders shoot up, his ears turning bright red.

#sevika x you #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika smut #the end of the second prompt started reminding me of abitohoney's submit #which is such a good fic! so if u want more shimmer fueled reader x sev rough smut u should check it out :)#i hope u enjoyed anon!

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adore-laur · 5 months

Text

SUNSTRUCK

— a sensual addition to southpaw 🌞

——

TODOS SANTOS, 1992

Palms slick with saltwater spread atop the surfboard floating in Mexico's turquoise ocean, its waxed surface scorching to the touch as it sparkles underneath the smoldering sun. Heaving himself up with taut and tanned arms, Harry switches out the cool engulfment for a beating heat that strikes his skin just right. Droplets cascade down the toned muscles of his back. Freckles that have come out of hiding dot his face in scattered clusters. The ultraviolet rays of June naturally bleach his tuft baby hairs blond.

He's unequivocally thriving, surrounded by a yellow aura gleaming brilliantly in the daylight.

Lying on his stomach, he manually paddles over to where Sawyer is supine on her pink inflatable raft. With a caramel-colored complexion and slim, silky legs that shimmer from the start of a sun-drenched summer, she resembles a solstitial vision for the ages. She has never looked more relaxed in all the years he's known her for. Her limbs that soak up splashes of Vitamin D are loose and not tense from working stationary hours at her office desk. There's no wrinkled crease of frustration between her eyebrows that needs to be smoothed out, nor is there a troubled frown pulling at her lips that needs to be lifted. She's in her own bubble of iridescent ecstasy.

This hush-hush getaway has rejuvenated their souls. The lush ocean breeze and visually flamboyant architecture lured them like they were a message in a bottle destined for the shoreline. Harry finally has uninterrupted time to spend with Sawyer in private in a nestled town where no one knows his name. Domesticity has already begun blooming in the desert bungalow where they're staying. Whispered confessions of love and gratitude spoken around the rims of coffee mugs. Waking up with her in his snuggly embrace is a luxury he's still getting used to. Kisses followed by wandering hands careen lazy mornings and sleepless nights. Their relationship is flourishing every day, and it feels like paradise.

As Sawyer tans like a sun goddess, Harry grows increasingly bored. The sluggish waves weren't nearly powerful enough to triumphantly catch, so he resorted to catching some rays instead. It didn't pan out too well because now his back is burning, and his girlfriend isn't paying attention to him. It's a deadly combination he needs to fix pronto.

"Sawyer," he says, peskily flicking water at her. "There's a shark behind you."

Opening her pretty brown irises shielded with cat-eye sunglasses, she flips him off and grouses, "You're not funny."

Harry smoothly straddles his surfboard and points past her. "I'm serious. Don't move, okay? I can see its fin circling."

It only takes a single second for her precious face to drop. She timidly shifts her sunglasses to the top of her head and stares at him in terror. "Is there really?" she whispers as if the non-existent shark is eavesdropping on the two lovers. "What do we do, Harry? Oh no, what do we do?"

To not crack a mischievous grin severely tests his might. "I'll grab you and take you to land. Don't worry, baby."

"We can't!" she tells him urgently, her voice rising to a whisper-shout. Thankfully, she doesn't dare turn around to see if they're actually in grave danger. "It'll follow us if we move. We have to be smart about this."

Harry dramatically looks off into the distance like he's in a film playing a determined survivor lost at sea. "If this is the last time we see each other," he declares with faux valor, "I want to die knowing I tried saving you."

Sawyer gawks at his morbid statement. He thought it was romantic. "Are you out of your mind? Don't say things like that!"

There's a slight growl to her tone, and she appears borderline petrified, so he abandons his silly prank. He's close enough to her raft to stretch his body forward and lift her, so he does, but not before humming the menacing Jaws theme and wiggling his fingers in her direction. She looks bewildered as he grips her waist and carefully transfers her to his surfboard. Once she's sat in front of him, he clings to her like a koala on a eucalyptus tree, his perspiring chest pressed flat against her back.

"Hi," he murmurs, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. "There's no shark. I just wanted to be near you."

Sawyer stills, then hastily unwinds his arms from around her. "You're so annoying," she whines, harmlessly slapping his thigh and grabbing her raft so it doesn't drift away.

Harry cups her jaw and tilts her head toward him. "You love me. I annoy the hell out of you, yet you can't get enough of me."

Glancing at his lips, she situates herself in his lap and smiles. "It's true. My sunray makes me happy even when he's a complete ditz."

Harry suddenly doesn't know how to speak, too enraptured by her natural beauty paired with a doe-eyed gaze that melts him like an ice cube on a sizzling driveway. Those brown eyes could get him to do anything she desired. Does she know that? Does she see the influence she has over him? Does she know nothing made sense in his life before he met her?

Unable to express his undying commitment to her without stumbling over his words, he utters a simple and sincere, "I love you."

Sawyer places her hand over his heart. "I know it."

Eventually, the rolling tide brings them back to the shore. The Baja California peninsula's tip possesses powdery sand grains that carry on for miles. This particular beach, Punta Lobos, is a hidden gem, and no tourists infest the area during the week. Rocky bluffs border the water, and the occasional hiker will admire the oceanic view from their advantage point before retreating down the trail behind the cliffs. Other than that, there's no one lurking around and disturbing the peace.

Harry and Sawyer lie side by side, sand sticking to their wet skin as the foamy waves barely reach their toes. Their fingers instinctively interlock, palms smoother due to being immersed in saltwater for hours, and something about it sends a firecracker shooting off in Harry's heart. Sawyer's skin after sunbathing is always gorgeous — golden, silken, and stamped with secret birthmarks only he knows the locations of.

He suddenly feels hot all over. Blazing sunbeams mixed with coursing dopamine are making him antsy. Trying to ignore his straying thoughts only worsens the constriction.

Looking over at his girl, Harry swallows and swipes his thumb across her chin to garner her undivided attention. She squints and beams angelically at him, a sheen of sweat gracing her cheekbones.

"Pretty girl," he says, his knuckles tracing the shape of her jaw. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm thinking about where our next destination should be."

"Nowhere. Let's stay here forever."

Sawyer ruffles his wavy hair. "And do what?"

A thousand scenarios whip around in his brain, and he ends up settling on asking his favorite question. "Wanna make out?"

Her plump lips instantly melt into a blissful smile. She rolls over on top of Harry's body, her syrupy skin adhering to his as she clasps his cheeks with her hands. She grants him his wish, coaxing warm and salty kisses from his mouth. His greedy hands roam the back of her thighs, trailing them up and down her sun-kissed flesh. Her ankles prop up and cross over each other, and she hums into his mouth as their craving kisses deepen. The pendant with his first initial that rests perfectly between her clavicles reminds him she's not going anywhere, as does the ring he gifted her that's settled on her finger, the cool metal neutralizing his flaming body temperature.

The unfortunate cause of their breakaway isn't because their love-filled lungs are deprived of oxygen. It's because, after all, they're on a public beach, and the sound of distant chatter has them pulling apart as quick as a zap of lightning.

Sawyer stands, briskly adjusting her bikini straps and glancing around like what they were doing was a scornful obscenity. She's adorably flustered. On the other hand, Harry sits up and nonchalantly adjusts himself while pinching his swollen bottom lip. He would be lying if he said he hasn't noticed excessive PDA isn't something Sawyer is necessarily comfortable with now that they're dating. She shies away from it, while he's quite the opposite. It's almost impossible to suppress the urge to touch and kiss her like there's no tomorrow, so he doesn't feel awkward about the innocuous disruption.

As he snatches his floral-patterned button-up that he left stranded on the sand and begins putting it back on, he spots his camcorder nearby. He brought it along to capture memories, which so far have mostly been of Sawyer in her feminine element—sunbathing on the poolside lounge chair with a magazine in her lap, curling her eyelashes in the bathroom mirror, dancing and singing to "Venus" by Bananarama on the bungalow sofa.

She's the center of his universe. The summit of beauty and love.

His gaze flits between the device and Sawyer, who is now red in the face. It's amusing, so he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses the record button. He purses his lips to hide his growing smirk as he zooms in on the small group of people strolling to the coastline and then on her rattled reaction.

It doesn't take long for her to notice. She jogs over to block the lens with her hands, fretting, "Stop it! This is so humiliating."

Harry laughs, lifting the camcorder to a height she can't reach. Sawyer is looking at him unimpressed, her arms crossed, and her head tilted to the side. The people most definitely saw them being handsy and smitten out in the open, but what's there to be sheepish about? Love is meant to be shown to the world.

"Are you embarrassed?" he teases, dragging out the last word.

She raises her eyebrows and nods. A hint of a smile plays at her lips, but it doesn't seem genuine. It appears insistent, one of hidden discomfort.

Harry isn't a total space cadet, so he takes it as a cue to quit messing around and acknowledge her unspoken signals. He stops recording and drops the camera in the striped beach bag slung over her shoulder. He then tucks his surfboard under his armpit and offers Sawyer his free hand. The energy between them has shifted by a smidge, and he doesn't like it one bit. The grains of sand beneath his soles have somehow turned into eggshells within minutes.

"Ready to leave?" he asks. Sawyer nods again, still ominously silent, as she ignores his hand and fetches her deflating raft. "'Kay. Let's hit the road, then."

They arrive at the rental car, a vintage orange convertible that made his pockets hurt. Sawyer wanted it, and he couldn't refuse her. The hood is up in case of unpredictable weather, so Harry straps and fastens his surfboard to the top while Sawyer hops in the passenger seat, throws her raft in the backseat, and shimmies back into her daisy dukes.

Harry sits behind the steering wheel, his lanky limbs struggling to comfortably fit in the restricted space. The engine rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition, and he rolls the windows down before reversing out of the vacant parking lot. He peeks at Sawyer a few times as he merges onto the highway winding along the coast. She's staring at the desert landscape ahead that's saturated with a golden haze from the forthcoming sunset. Cacti and dead brush sizzle under the evening sun. Mountains tower over the feathery clouds. Vultures circle in the sky as roadrunners scurry along the pavement. It's stark scenery but nonetheless transcendent.

None of his surroundings matter, though, when his favorite person to talk to is overtly ignoring him. He tries to convince himself that maybe she's just tired. No, that can't be right. He knows her. She's affectionate when she hits a wall and cuddles up to him sweetly, clinging to his arm like a sloth on its beloved branch.

The truth is that he messed up.

Before he can dwell on every misstep he took in the past ten minutes, an earsplitting BOOM cuts through the atmosphere, followed by a rapid whooshing sound. Harry firmly clutches the wheel as the vehicle suddenly loses equilibrium. Without outwardly panicking, he takes his foot off the gas pedal and lets the car naturally slow down before pulling it off to the side of the road and braking lightly.

"Shit," he hisses under his breath, heart thumping erratically. "Goddamnit. I think one of the tires just blew out."

Poor Sawyer has her eyes pinched shut and a death grip on his bicep. Harry snaps back to reality and kills the engine, listening for any odd sounds. Before he steps out, he gives the top of Sawyer's head a gentle, comforting noogie and murmurs, "It's okay. We're okay."

She shakily gets out with him and leans against the passenger side door, anxiously biting her polished fingernails while Harry perplexedly settles a hand on his hip and assesses the external damage. The front right tire looks like one of the clocks in Salvador Dalí's The Persistence of Memory — sad, melted, and a surreal depiction of an unfavorable outcome.

He looks up and down the highway, finding no signs of any buildings, vehicles, or humans. Something he does see, however, is a broken beer bottle a couple of yards behind where they were driving a mere minute ago. Most of the shards of green glass are scattered along the edge of the road, yet a few stray pieces are lying in just the right place for any vehicle that comes racing down the highway. It's the perfect puncture for a not-so-perfect boyfriend already on thin ice. Karma must have a vendetta against him today, but he won't let it clip his wings. When life gives him lemons, he knows how to make a delectable pitcher of lemonade.

So, Harry does what he's best at: distracting his girlfriend. He can quickly turn this misfortune into something fun and make Sawyer forget about how sour the day has turned.

Swiping his sweaty forehead with his wrist, he huffs and gets to work. He's changed a few tires in his life, so it should be done in no time. First, he takes his shirt off so he doesn't get heatstroke. The humidity outside is brutal, causing sweat to bead by his hairline and on his back. He makes a show of slowly unbuttoning it and slinging the fabric over his shoulder. It's obvious Sawyer's gaze is locked on him. He's willing to admit he possesses vanity over his physicality, and it doesn't help that the girl watching him constantly feeds his ego.

Next, Harry takes his sweet time and saunters to the trunk, where the rental agency told him the spare tire is located. Lifting the trunk and flexing his arms, he opens the well to reveal the tire. There's also a jack and lug wrench that'll come in handy.

After gathering everything, he kneels on the blistering road, loosens the tire's lug nuts with the wrench, and then places the jack under the vehicle's frame. He stretches his arms above his head before using the jack to slightly lift the car off the ground. After removing the lug nuts, he removes the ruined tire, momentarily glancing at Sawyer as he breathes heavily from his body's exertion in the unbearable heat. She's in front of the car now, looking at the sunset that paints elegant splashes of pink and orange across the horizon.

Harry grunts as he tosses the tire aside. Sawyer glances back, and he doesn't miss how her eyes flick down to his abdomen, now slick with a sheen of sweat.

"Wanna learn how to do this?" he calls out, grunting again when he picks up the pristine spare.

He's given no response as he lines up the holes and pushes the tire into the wheelbase. His biceps flex with soreness, and when he peers up again, Sawyer still looks at him, her eyes communicating something obscure. They have a little stare-down until he can't take it anymore and begins replacing the lug nuts. His jaw is clenched as he works quickly to try to get to the bungalow as soon as possible so they can untangle this yarn of bizarre tension.

Once the tire is secure, the old one is thrown in the trunk, and the tools are all put away. Harry walks over to Sawyer. She's perched herself on the car's hood, picking at her cuticles. Standing in front of her, he places his hands on either side of her thighs, his shoulders taut as he watches her eyes dance over the sky behind him. He kisses the tender spot below her jawbone, tasting and smelling residual coconut tanning lotion left there. Goosebumps rise across the expanse of her neck like a swelling tidal wave, and Harry can't help but bury his face in it and whimper pitifully. He's like a needy puppy when she ignores him, pawing for the tiniest bit of love and attention.

"It's so hot out," he complains before sighing dramatically. "Let's head back."

Sawyer doesn't push him away, which counts as progress. "I want to watch the sun go down," she says, lost in thought. "Who knows the next time we'll be able to on an abandoned desert highway."

He won't argue with that. He doesn't need to nor necessarily want to. If Sawyer wants to soak in the sunset, he'll endure the feverish weather if it makes her happy. Besides, she's right; little precious moments, such as experiencing the sun dip below the horizon, leaving behind a new, wispy portrait of captivating colors each day, are worth pausing life from time to time.

Sealing a kiss on her forehead, Harry hops on the hood and settles beside her. "I'll never learn how to say no to you."

☼ ☼ ☼

Back at the secluded bungalow, an unorthodox band of tension is still waiting to be snapped.

Sawyer has started cooking dinner with the miscellaneous ingredients she purchased from the downtown market yesterday morning. Canola oil is popping and sizzling in a frying pan, and julienned bell peppers of various colors are ready to be sautéed. Harry took a quick shower to wash the ocean and sweat from his sunburnt skin and has since changed into a white long-sleeved button-up tucked into teal trousers. He also has a pair of sunglasses over his eyes to help relieve spending hours in saltwater and squinting under the blinding sun.

Sawyer is in a tight, cropped blue camisole with low-waisted silk pajama pants. Her hair is down, golden beach waves reaching the middle of her back as she maneuvers around the kitchen area. Harry observes her from the dining room table, not quite knowing how to initiate a conversation without stretching the metaphorical elastic too far. Or worse, past the point of no return.

He watches Sawyer tilt the cutting board over the pan so the peppers fall into it. They immediately crackle when introduced to the heat. She then takes a wooden spoon and stirs the vibrant vegetables, turning on the overhead stove fan so the smoke doesn't set any detectors off. She's still ignoring him, entirely focused on one task and pretending there's not an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed before the night concludes. Harry knows if he brings it up, she'll shut it down, say everything is fine, and insist she's not angry. She's a terrible liar, so he'll save that tactic for another argument.

As he stares at the back of her head, he realizes he doesn't like her version of the silent treatment. It's okay if she won't talk to him, but acting like he doesn't exist is ruthless. So, he walks over to her and wraps his arms around her slim waist. She tenses but continues mixing the peppers in silence.

Okay, that's definitely not the reaction he wanted. Not even an ounce of acknowledgment when he begins kissing her neck, taking his time loving on the beautiful ridges carved there.

"Slow dance with me," he murmurs pleadingly, squeezing her.

"I'm busy right now."

Now, don't get him wrong; he likes her stubbornness. He even finds it incredibly endearing to a degree. But when it's directed toward something he's clueless about, he finds himself having to coax an answer past her adamant walls of defense. Being candid doesn't always end well, so choosing the proper approach is crucial if he wants to crawl out of the hole he's dug himself into.

Harry reaches around her preoccupied figure to flick the stove's heat off. The blue flame vanishes, and the sizzling ceases, causing Sawyer to sigh heavily as she sets the wooden spoon off to the side. She still doesn't turn around, even when Harry moves her thick hair over her left shoulder and starts planting warm kisses further down her skin, slower and more intentionally. She smells like the ocean breeze at the height of summer, sweepingly refreshing and pure. He doesn't know how he went so long without touching her like this.

Light from a dying yet persistent sunset pours through the slanted ceiling window. The nearby radio quietly plays a mariachi song that doesn't fit the fraught mood. Upbeat and punchy, the music is supposed to evoke happiness and camaraderie. It falls short this time, but like before, lemons can always be turned into lemonade.

"Do you know how to Salsa?" Harry pipes up while stepping away, giving her room to breathe.

"How to make salsa?" Sawyer replies distractedly. She's begun garnishing the semi-cooked peppers with fresh oregano.

"No, how to dance the Salsa."

She drizzles more oil into the pan. Her hand hovers over the stove's knob to light the flame again, but she retracts and mutters, "Um, not really."

Harry rolls his sleeves to his elbows and tosses his sunglasses onto the counter. "It's all in the hips, isn't it?"

She glances back at him for a split second before leisurely spinning around and crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you need something?"

"Sí, muñeca."

The almost invisible twitch of her lips doesn't go unnoticed by his attentive nature. "What is it?" she asks impatiently. "I'm trying to make dinner. You know, I've realized you always decide to be a pest when I'm not paying enough attention to you."

Busted. Well, at least she's talking to him now.

Harry begins clapping his hands to the song's rhythm in the background and swinging his hips in a terrible presentation of what's supposed to be salsa dancing. Sawyer arches her eyebrow and blankly stares at his uncoordinated movements. He's making an absolute fool of himself, but honestly, he just wants to see her smile. He'll go to the greatest lengths.

Shuffling closer to her, he caresses her limp hands and tries to get her to loosen up. "Let's dance."

“I'm not in the mood to dance."

He frowns dramatically, widening his feet to be the same height as her. "What's going on right now, hmm? We were having so much fun earlier."

Sawyer slides away from the stove and leans against the adjacent kitchen wall. A psychedelic painting of a gecko in the desert hangs above her. "It's not that hard to figure out," she says, looking everywhere but at him. It stings just a tad.

One of Harry's hands rests flat on the wall beside her, his thumb faintly yet purposefully touching the shell of her ear. He leans in and murmurs, "Are you still upset with me?"

The stubborn girl he knows and loves dearly steadily nods her head. "I'm furious. My body is on fire."

He bites his bottom lip with his front teeth as his piercingly intimidating gaze hungrily travels downward and lands on her exposed stomach. The silver bellybutton ring shining against her golden skin sets him on fire in an entirely different way. She's a delectable feast for the eyes.

Harry doesn't believe that her blood is boiling to the extent of fury, but he'll entertain her flair for dramatics. He says, "I'm sorry for shoving a camcorder in your face when you got embarrassed."

Sawyer gives him a puzzled look. "Huh? Oh, I don't care about that. I'm over it."

"Okay, then tell me why you're so furious." He's being thrown for a loop, and it's making him dizzy.

It's clear she's internally contemplating her response based on how her posture becomes less stiff. After rubbing her arm awkwardly, she says, "Because you're not nice."

Harry blinks slowly. Once, then twice. "What?"

"You were being a jerk by teasing me while fixing the tire."

It takes a while to realize his plan totally backfired. His innocuous teasing wasn't supposed to make her even more mad at him, and now he's stuck in a maze of figuring out exactly what he did wrong. Girls are so complicated!

Unless…

"Is that what this is about?" he asks, his lips quirking in amusement and slow realization. Perhaps the little show he put on for her had the intended effect after all.

Sawyer scoffs. "Stop smiling!"

He grins like a lovesick fool. "I'm not smiling."

"Yes, you are! Your eyes smile before your mouth does." She goes to tuck her stray baby hairs behind her ears, and when she does, Harry traps her fidgeting fingers with his hand still resting beside her head.

"Yeah?" he goads, his pulse throbbing faster. "When did you notice that about me?"

"I've always noticed it. It's so easy to tell when you're about to smile. Your eyes glimmer, and then you scrunch your nose."

"You like watching me?"

"Cállate. We're not finished with this argument."

"Go on, then."

Sawyer waves her free hand around as incomplete sentences get caught in her throat. "I— you— we can't keep doing this!"

Harry's heart falters at the vagueness of her confession. "What are you saying? Be gentle with me."

She gathers her crumbling composure, then carefully says, "What I mean is... we can't keep fueling this fire if we're not going to do anything about it."

The fire she speaks of has been wildly swirling in his stomach for a long time. He's managed to tame the carnal flames by waiting for Sawyer to declare her desires first since her comfort level is always his top priority. The opportunity has now risen, and he's lucky she has opened up this much so that he can jump in and kickstart the colloquy they've been hesitantly dancing around for months.

"Is this about sex?"

Pink spiderwebs of heat spread across her face. Harry's thumb presses down on the apple of her blushing cheek, her skin delightfully warm. It's nice to know a little fire has also been burning in her stomach. It's just a matter of tending to both of them. Kindle the flames until they roar with lust.

"Sort of," Sawyer mumbles, her eyebrows plunging with an unknown emotion. "Maybe. Yes. I don't know. All I know is that I don't want to tiptoe around it anymore." Her hand reaches out to rest on his neck, her pleading body language igniting the embers again. "Harry, it's killing me. I can't hide it."

He cups the side of her head. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, baby?" His voice has stooped to a deep, gentle rumble that shelters her with compassion.

"I didn't want to rush into things." She drapes her arms over his shoulders and plays with the outgrown curls at the nape of his neck. "I want to take my time with you and soak you in day by day. Take slow sips of your sunshine."

Knees weak, Harry whispers, "Don't. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With those eyes, Sawyer. Don't look all innocent when your words are the opposite."

She's completely clueless about how her imploring brown eyes can hold such seductiveness. Amber flecks swim in her irises, which are the color of dark chocolate. Rich. Exquisite. Tempting. Harry wants to break her off between his teeth like peppermint bark and swallow her silky, revivifying sweetness.

The tip of Sawyer's nose trails along his jaw, her lips brushing a path against his hot skin and setting fire to his loins. "I'm just tired of being patient. Does that make sense?"

Harry gives her a slight, truthful nod, then slumps his forehead against hers. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you. There's no need to be shy around me. I'm your boyfriend."

"What if you don't want the same thing? That'd be so embarrassing."

"Sawyer Alejandra, you are so goddamn stubborn. Do you want me to just give it to you straight? Because I will." He takes a deep breath before blurting, "I want to have sex with—"

She clamps her hands over his entirely-too-bold mouth. "Shush!" Pinching her eyes shut, she whines and grumbles, "Forget I said anything. I have to finish cooking dinner."

If there's one thing he knows about Sawyer's personality, it's that the second she feels an ounce of mortification, she immediately backtracks. He'd usually let it slide, but this topic of conversation is a tricky one to simply forget about and move on from like nothing happened.

Harry unwinds her hands from around his neck and keeps them cradled in his grasp. Then, while staring into her devastatingly gorgeous eyes, he says, "This tension between us isn't going to just magically disappear. Either we do something about it, or ignore it. Your choice."

Sawyer swallows thickly. "I want to, so badly. But I'm scared."

"Why?" he asks, trying to open her blooming petals. They're singed with uncertainty.

"It's an incredibly vulnerable act, dufus." She cutely wrinkles her nose.

"And we're incredibly vulnerable lovers, so what's the sitch?"

She brings their conjoined hands up to her lips and kisses his knuckles. Against his skin, she mumbles, "How do we even go about this? I've made it awkward."

He shakes his head in disagreement. "You didn't. Do you trust me to take the reins?"

"Of course."

"Then follow me to the bedroom."

Sawyer points to the stove. "But what about dinner?"

Harry pinches her cheek and starts dragging her down the hallway. "I know just the cure for an appetite."

☼ ☼ ☼

The queen-sized bed has sheer canopy curtains draped around it. They were too lazy to make it this morning, so the sheets are still crumpled, and pillows are strewn about. Sunlight streams through the open bay window, making the room glow a tender hue of honey.

It's alluring and also equally terrifying.

Harry went into the master bathroom to mentally prepare himself, even though he told Sawyer he was just freshening up. His reflection in the mirror peered back at him pensively. He fixed his hair about ten times, swiped another layer of deodorant across his armpits, and then gave himself a hushed pep talk before swinging the door open and putting on a cool, calm, and collected face.

Yet the butterflies in his stomach currently contradict everything he's trying to convey, especially when he finds his sweet Sawyer sitting against the headboard, the puffy duvet covering her bare breasts. The sun casts light on her stunning face and accentuates her apprehensive features. She's innocently staring at him as if she didn't knowingly climb into bed without any clothes on and sat there patiently waiting for him like the good girl she is.

And... he's hard already. Well, that's one less thing to worry about.

Harry clears his throat and strips down to his boxers, then slides into the space next to her, waiting with bated breath. Neither of them looks at each other, too hesitant to make the first move. They've both had sex with different people before, so it's not like they're blind leading the blind, but now that they're actually in the bedroom, all confidence has apparently flown out the window.

"We could start with, like, kissing or something." So much for saying he'd take the reins. He can't even speak properly right now.

In his peripheral, he sees Sawyer nod hastily. "Sure," she says, quieter than ever.

"Okay. Are you comfortable doing it naked since you're already... naked?" She laughs, and Harry smacks his forehead. "Sorry. God, I'm so nervous. You're making me feel like a teenager all over again."

Silence lingers long enough for him to finally gain the courage to glance at Sawyer. She locks eyes with him, then slowly, almost teasingly, lets the duvet drop and pool around her waist. Harry's mouth goes dry as he takes in skin he's never fully seen before. She's soft, shapely, and undeniably tempting.

Sawyer crawls on her hands and knees until she's straddling his lap. She still has her underwear on, lace boy shorts that hug her hips deliciously well. With blood rushing to his brain (and other places), his reaction is a bit delayed until his hands eventually find their place on her waist. He's breathing deeply, nostrils flaring as he ravenously wonders how she will look naked underneath him, pleasure etched on her face.

"You're divine," Harry whispers while toying with the flimsy hem of her underwear.

"So are you," she replies, rubbing a coquettish hand down his chest. "Hey, let's maybe skip the kissing part? I'm kind of impatient."

"Damn, all right. We're diving straight in?"

She presses her body against his torso and hooks her arms around his neck. "I want to feel you. I've dreamed about it."

A desperate groan sounds in his throat. "You're lying."

"I'm not. Then I'd wake up, and you'd be kissing me like you knew exactly what I needed. And your hands would get so close to where they were in my dream but never close enough."

"Yeah? Where were my hands in your dream?"

Her eyes flutter shut as if she's recalling the fantasy. "Mm... everywhere. Warm and heavy between my thighs. Sliding up my stomach." A lazy, sensual smile creeps onto her lips as she adds, "Around my neck."

Harry is tired of waiting a second longer. He flips her over so he's on top, his silver necklace with the 'S' pendant swinging over her collarbones like a pendulum. "Let me make you feel good. I'll give you the real deal."

Sawyer twists the chain around her pointer finger and tugs him closer. "Please. I want it more than anything."

"Dig your heels into my back," he instructs before shuffling down her body until his head is lined up with her thighs.

She complies, and the pressure on his shoulder blades makes him choke on a moan. Her bent legs effortlessly fall open, granting him access to the single layer of fabric that comes between him and paradise. He stares at her from his position, his hands hooking around her knees. She stares back at him, a vehement fire in her eyes.

"It's all yours."

Her readiness is enough for him to lose his last shred of self-control. He leaves a suckling love bite on her inner thigh, then murmurs, "Lift your hips for me."

She raises the lower half of her body, and Harry slides her underwear off. She assists him when it reaches her ankles by kicking it across the bedroom. He focuses back on the inviting sight before him. A shiver trails down his spine when he takes two of his fingers and circles them around her entrance. She's dripping wet.

Sawyer's jaw goes slack as she scratches her nails across the expanse of Harry's sturdy back. He hisses past his clenched teeth, loving the luxurious burn. Tingling and tantalizing sensations course through his system as he tests the waters, slowly sinking his middle finger past her drenched opening. He vigilantly gazes into Sawyer's eyes the entire time, gauging her expressions for the faintest flicker of pain or unease.

"Talk to me," he says.

"It stings a little, but keep going."

"You're doing so good. So, so good. Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

She nods with a raspy whine, so he adds another finger, then uses his thumb to press against her clit and rub halo shapes onto it. Her thighs tremble and tighten around his head, tiny gasps escaping past her lips. He leaves bruising, biting kisses on her skin as he skillfully works his fingers, which are now soaked with her arousal. Filthy thoughts invade his fuzzy brain, thoughts of dreams he's had himself. Vivid images of doing what he's doing right now, except they'd always be cruelly cut short by the breaking of dawn.

Harry grinds his hips into the mattress, alleviating the ache while his kisses move closer to where his fingers are. Sawyer's panted breaths motivate him to ask: "Do you want my mouth?"

"Yes, please. Eres tan bueno conmigo."

The foreign praise rolling off her tongue enchants him to dive into her sweet, sticky heat. He laps up her wetness like its melted candy, the taste dangerously addictive. He hums insatiably, palms spreading on her lower stomach as he swirls his tongue inside of her. His cheeks are ablaze with sex drive as his eyes train themselves on Sawyer's face. Soft, sensual sounds trickle out of her mouth, fueling the intensity with which he pleasures her.

Pulling away for air, Harry whispers, "I can't get enough of you," before replacing his mouth with his fingers. They slide past her clenching walls so enticingly, so perfectly.

"Harry," Sawyer moans, fisting his hair and tugging at the strands. "I-I'm almost there. It's so strong."

He removes all body contact while sucking his fingers clean, then catapults off the bed to quickly grab a condom before she loses her approaching climax. He sifts through his duffel bag, finding the box he secretly packed in case something happened on this trip.

Maybe he manifested it. Or perhaps his girlfriend is simply braver than him.

Making his way over to the bed again (tripping on Sawyer's unplugged curling iron in the process), he bounces back on the mattress and hands her the foil package. Her skin is glowing with an angelic radiance, but sinfulness cracks through when she pushes on his chest to get him to lay back. She straddles him and rips open the package with her teeth. The arch of her back, the excitement in her movements, and the slickness of her arousal are all he sees. She has no idea how heavenly she looks.

Sawyer's fingertips walk down his abdomen and brush over his length, which is straining against his boxers. "Can I?" she asks politely, her eyes wondrous.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Harry cradles her head and brings it down for a fond kiss, her hair tickling his face. "Feeling okay? Not in pain or anything, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No. I feel like I'm floating."

"Same here." He breaks into an aching smile, coming to the realization of how special this moment is. "I love you so much. I'm gonna remember this forever."

"Me too." Sawyer slides his boxers off, their harmonious breathing mixing together. Harry's cock breaks loose and rests against his happy trail, reddened and throbbing. "Woah."

He laughs at her reaction. "Don't act so surprised. It's all your fault, baby."

She blushes and carefully rolls the condom on while Harry stifles moans by biting his knuckles. He won't last very long, but he'll make it worthwhile for her. He'll take his time, just how she likes it. Soak her presence in. Slow sips.

He sits on his knees, then motions for Sawyer to recline and spread her legs. Once she's in position, he settles an arm on either side of her body and hovers over her. He tucks her hair behind her ears and leaves a hungry kiss on her lips. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she exhales. "You?"

"Totally."

"Change my life, sunray."

Grabbing the base of his cock, he lines it up with her entrance. He reminds himself to go slow as his tip sinks into her, and he keeps it there as he watches Sawyer's face. Her shiny lips are parted, eyebrows pushed together. Her legs squeeze him while her hands hold onto his biceps. The muscles of her cheekbones twitch. God, she's an angel.

"I've got you," Harry says, a thrilling knot forming in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck, you were made for me."

He sinks further into her wet warmth, one hand grasping her leg to bend it more. She's tight, yet he's able to fit himself all the way in. Gasps leave both of their mouths at the feeling of him bottoming out, and it's like everything is moving in slow motion, the golden haze in the room adding to the delicacy of the moment.

"Mierda. Oh my God, Harry. Oh my..." Her fragile voice, leaking with whispery weeps, shatters his poise as he begins thrusting in and out. Sawyer's limbs become weak, her feet slipping down to the dip of his spine. It's all hot breath and swallowing each other's noises with sloppy kisses. Being inside her is a level of intimacy that electrifies every part of his soul. It's unfamiliar territory that binds him closer to the girl he wants forever. The orange flames they stepped around for years are now a cool, sapphire-blue.

Their hips reconnect with each thrust, a beautiful sound fused with their satisfied moans. Harry's pendant sways forward, his neck straining. Sawyer's nails pierce crescent moons onto his back, followed by more scratches that make him shudder.

"Goddamn," he chokes out, his cheek pressed against hers. "You feel stellar. I'm close. Give me... Christ, give me something to dream about."

"I'm there," she says. "I love you. I can't hold it any longer."

"Let it go, Sawyer. C'mon."

Arching her back off the mattress, she orgasms with a cry of release, and the vision of her has Harry immediately spilling out into the condom. It's powerful, otherworldly, and absolutely life-changing. He pulls out and lays on top of her, embracing her in a hold of overwhelming adoration as he whimpers into the pillow beside her head. They both melt into each other, sweaty and happy, coming down from their individual climaxes.

Every minute that passes, the room grows darker due to the moon painting the sky black with stars. Only the wind and their breathing fill the space, cool and heated gusts reciprocating. Harry can feel Sawyer's lips against his temple, curving up with a smile every so often. He's got a permanent smile as his fatigued gaze stares at the ring on her finger. He feels like sunshine is bursting from his pores and serotonin is being absorbed.

Sawyer is the first to move. She uses her remaining strength to get up and tightly wrap the sheets around her naked body before stepping out onto the balcony. With the door open, he can see the full moon illuminate the expanse of the flat desert, cacti and palm trees looming as far as the eye can see. The lack of humidity at night causes a balmy breeze to encircle her body, whipping her tousled hair.

"Can I tell you a secret now that we've had sex?" Harry asks from his place on the bed. His voice is sore and hoarse.

Sawyer turns around and bites her lip with a giddy grin. "Shoot."

He disposes of his condom, then puts his boxers back on and joins her, not caring about the chilliness. He still feels warm inside and out. "Do you remember our phone call last September when I was in South Carolina with a broken wrist?"

A flash of remembrance crosses her moonlit face. "Yeah. I was so worried about you."

He cradles her cheeks and pertly kisses her nose. "You took such good care of me when I got back."

It's the absolute truth. All the tagalongs to physical therapy, icing his wrist while cuddled on the couch, being a shoulder to cry on when he got frustrated—he couldn't have done it without her.

"I hated seeing you in pain," she says, looping her arms around his torso. "It hurt my heart."

"Never mind that." He inhales deeply and pushes forth his confession. "You... when you said you missed me during that call, a feeling came over me. Something in your voice made me weak. And something happened to me that had never happened before. I don't even know why I'm telling you—"

"Spit it out, Harry."

His head tilts back as far as it can go. "Fuck's sake. I got hard, Sawyer. Your voice made me hard."

Her mouth hangs wide open. A well-timed gust of wind passes like an awkward moment in a cartoon. "Um, wow. I'm not really sure how to respond to that."

"You don't have to say anything. Just thought you should know now that we've done the deed."

Sawyer giggles, hiding her face in the space between his pecs. "First off, please don't call it that." She looks at him and continues, "Secondly, you thought I should know that you got hard in South Carolina?"

He starts laughing too. It's contagious around her. "I should also probably tell you that I jerked it out in a crummy Holiday Inn shower. It was quite pathetic and sad."

She sputters out a boisterous cackle that echoes across the barren desert. Harry's cheeks flush instantaneously. "I appreciate your honesty."

"On a more serious note," Harry starts, gripping the balcony railing with one hand, the other on her hip, "I appreciate how you forced a confession out of me the next day. Don't know if I've ever told you that."

Her expression turns sorrowful. "I didn't mean to pressure you. It had been building up inside me for so long, and you looked so beautiful that night. My heart spoke for me and—"

Harry cups her jaw and kisses her unexpectedly, making her squeak. It reminds him of that night in the rain when his blue raspberry lips collided with hers for the first time. He pulls away slowly, fitting his nose over her own and swaying her slightly. "You did everything right. I was a coward who was frightened of rejection. The thought of ruining what we already had was nauseating."

"You thought I would've rejected you?"

"I never really know what you're thinking. That pretty brain of yours holds so many secrets."

Sawyer steals a ripe kiss. "Can I tell you one right now?"

"Always."

She kisses him again before saying, "I see forever with you. I want to wake up in your arms every day. I want to laugh with you until our sides ache. I want to kiss you until I get dizzy."

"Sawyer," Harry whispers, his eyes softening.

"I mean it. No one will ever make me feel this type of love again."

"I feel the same. You're all I need."

"Te quiero. Mi alma es tuya."

He nips her neck, slow and tender. "If you keep speaking Spanish to me, we're not getting any sleep tonight."

"Sí? Quieres más rasguños en la espalda?"

"Gonna tell me what that means?"

She gracefully traces the tattoo on his abdomen and says, "I can show you instead."

Harry's stomach suddenly grumbles with hunger, ruining the intimate moment. He peers at the twinkling sky above and laughs at the inconvenient interruption. "I would love that, but I'm absolutely starving right now. We skipped dinner."

"There's cold peppers on the stove."

"Delicious," he says sarcastically, shifting his gaze to her again. A few seconds pass before something he wants to mention pops into his thoughts. "Hey, did you know this month marks five years since we first met?"

Sawyer gapes at him, genuinely surprised. "No way. Five years?"

"Crazy, right? Five years since you almost gave me a concussion."

"I still feel terrible about that," she admits with a pout.

Harry remembers everything about that day, even when his brain got jolted by a killer volleyball serve by the prettiest girl on Cocoa Beach. Her brown eyes up close, holding gentle concern for a stranger. That sassy hand on her hip thing she still does today. Clementine fabric against caramel skin. Orange juice in a bottle. Summerboy.

"But if that never happened," he says quietly, "then we might've never spoken to each other."

Her dreamy hum tells him she's musing about it too. "That's true. Isn't it mind-blowing how the tiniest of decisions can affect the entire course of your life? I like to think that every past choice of mine led me to you."

He admires the way her voice gets wispy when her mind wanders. "Word. Does post-sex make you all philosophical and shit?"

She shrugs. "Maybe."

"Cool." Harry backs away while holding her hands until their fingers eventually slip from each other's grasp. "Well, while you brood about Plato's teachings, I'm going to snack on your world-famous half-cooked peppers."

"Have fun with that."

"I will. Love you." Halfway through the doorway, he suddenly stops and rushes forward, giving her a suffocating hug, his lungs breathing everything about her. "All jokes aside," he murmurs, "I also believe everything I did brought me to you. And it just makes sense to be in love with you. Okay, bye."

He's off and running toward the kitchen before she can say anything else, not even the shadows of night on the floor being able to darken the natural luminescence he leaves behind.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #adore-laur #sunstruck #southpaw series

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yanban-san · 1 year

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Hii! I'm back again! 💖

I love when the twins get all jealous and protective of their darling, but I think there's some great potential with darling getting jealous in return too! Its silly and irrational, because they're her bosses. But there's a tug inside her heart every time she sees them with someone else, even if can't even begin to understand why she feels that way (it's totally a soulmate thing).

She can't say anything, bc they're her bosses and it's wayy out of line, but they'd figure it out eventually - either from listening in to chats with Elesa or from watching the way she acted.

Do you think they'd try and clear the air immediately and shut down the advances in front of her? Or would they let her stew away in it just a bit? Either way, I'm sure they'd be tickled their darling is experiencing even a taste of what they usually feel (and maybe hopeful that this could be the start of something more!)

-Scale Anon

Oh boy No beta time :D

Tags: Mostly Fluff, little possessive/jealous behavior, AFAB reader, Demon/Monster AU, very mild/slight NSFW mentions

As Darling falls more and more in love with her bosses, desperately trying to deny it to herself, she would absolutely get hit by her own emotions hard, no matter what she tried to do.

Ingo and Emmet are jealous, driven more jealous every time Darling tries to put aside her unprofessional and totally inappropriate feelings by trying to ask someone, anyone else out- Vain attempts to get over her infatuation with her beloved bosses.

Of course, she feels nervous and jealous and strangely pained when she has to watch her bosses have happy interactions with fans or trainers- Emmet and Ingo are encouraging and kind to trainers they have to fight on the Subway, but very stiff about doing so. Darling doesn't exactly see this, and- Especially when a fan grabs one of them for a hug and photo, or, on a rare occasion, tries to smooch one of them? All she hears is Emmet flirting with them, hearing the "come visit the Station again sometime!" As a statement filled with double meanings-

Her face turns bright red with blush and terror, her stomach churning. And yet, the way they act disgusted afterwards... It makes her feel a terrible wave of relief, and also a terrible wave of a shame and guilt, thinking how they'd probably be disgusted if they knew what she was thinking about them- The dreams she'd had, the fantasies she'd indulged in... She knows she's being irrational, and she's trying to keep it together, but- It's difficult. Her infatuation grows worse by the day, feeling the terrible tugging on her heartstrings. She doesn't just picture Ingo and Emmet ravaging her, she pictures waking up beside them, just being held in their arms, leaning against them on a picnic... Oh no. The infatuation's gone domestic.

I think Darling would also get the absolutely wrong idea about their relationship with Elesa as well.

All the times Darling has seen Elesa heading into- and out of- her bosses' office?

Her heart practically breaks right then and there. Putting two and two together, especially as she recalls the awkward first time meeting with Elesa in their office. The way she acted so odd, like she was hiding something...

Asking Elesa about her relationship with the Subway Bosses makes her flustered- Elesa isn't sure what to say to how she became the resident matchmaker for the two demons, her thoughts drifting back to the long nights thinking Emmet was going to pop out of her wall and murder her- But her nervousness makes Darling's suspicions a hundred times worse. Of course. Of course. Elesa is clearly their girlfriend. And why not? She's beautiful- A celebrity, a gym leader, a perfect woman- Certainly, everything they could ever want.

---

Elesa put down her drink at the coffee shop. She'd switched to tea, as the extra caffeine was putting a little too much pep in her step, especially when battling. She'd called you like she normally did, asking if you wanted to go out for coffee- and you responded yes, for the first time in almost two weeks. The Station Masters had even questioned you sudden avoidance of her- Had Elesa made you uncomfortable, somehow...? Oh, if she had...

She drank her tea nervously, waiting for you to arrive, watching patrons come and go as they ordered and received their beverages- Taking note of interesting sounding combinations. What else was she to do? The weather outside looked pleasant- Hot, but a wild breeze was gusting through Nimbasa, providing much needed cooling to the city. The frigid A/C in the coffee shop wasn't near enough to calm Elesa down, though.

She barely noticed as the door swung open, the tell tale ringing of the coffee shop's bells announcing the arrival of another customer.

You.

Elesa waved you over, smiling brightly, and you sat down, tentatively. Elesa noticed the furtive glance you stole, the tense smile you gave her- "How's it going?" She asked, sipping her almost-empty-tea cup. Playing dumb.

"It-It's going well, I suppose." You answered honestly. "Haven't had any luck with any of the dates I've tried going on." "Oh no! It hasn't been too bad, I hope?" You shook your head. Except it had been... pretty bad. It seemed every person who you tried to meet suddenly ghosted you, or found someone else-

Elesa shrugged, listening to your woes. "Those people sound like jerks, in all honesty... I'm sure you'll find someone eventually, though. It can be tough..."

"What about yourself, Elesa?" You took your iced coffee in hand, sipping from it nervously.

"Oh, you mean- Dating?" She asked quizzically.

"Yeah."

Her hands fiddled with the edges of her hair nervously. "It's uh- Oh, you know- It's been... You know. Being a Gym Leader- and a bit of a celebrity, it's hard. Most people have ideas about how I'm supposed to act, you know? And when they get to know me- They find out I'm different from what they expected. Or, some crazy fan will try to ask me out. Happens alll the time. Though I can spot them real quick- I've got Luxray vision for them now."

"Uh-huh." You watched as she- nervously- took the empty cup in front of her and pretended to sip from it.

There really was no use Swanna-stepping around the question, was there?

"Elesa... I really hate to ask you this, but-" You began. Elesa's cup went down, hanging on your words. What Sinnoh-forsaken request or headache-inducing question were you going to ask next...?

"You... and... the Station Masters..."

Oh no-

"Are you guys dating?" Your table fell silent, Elesa staring ahead like a deerling caught in the headlights of an 18-wheeled semi truck barreling down the Castelia Connector. Her mouth fell open, as though she were about to object, but no sound came out. Oh no. Perhaps you hit the nail on the head-

"What?"

You fidgeted nervously at her incredulousness.

"It's just, I see you come by Gear Station pretty frequently, and- Jackie always lets you back to their office... And I've seen you come in and out of there more than a few times- And I've even heard Ingo call you over a couple times and I know it's not really my place to ask, but it's been bothering me but I don't want you to think I'm judging you or make you uncomfortable I was just-"

"Hold on, Hold on there a second!" Elesa sputtered- Arceus Above she needed more tea-

"Oh- uh, er, Sorry-"

She coughed a few times, composing herself. "I'm not- We're not- No- I visit them purely on business. Absolutely not, goodness- I would never date either of those two, oh my gosh-"

"Are- Are you sure? Because- I really don't mind, I'll keep it a secret if you need me to!"

"Look- Absolutely not. They are not my type. Nope, No, Nada, Never. Not for me. I'd sooner ask Clay out."

Now it was your turn to choke on your coffee. "Gym leader Clay?"

"The very same. Man with the Chaps. Man with zero fashion sense, who wears the turquoise chaps. Man nearly three times my age with the chaps-"

"Oh thank Sinnoh!" You clapped your hands together, stifling back the slightest hint of a snicker at Elesa's obvious displeasure at being reminded of Gym Leader Clay's er, outfit- and-

"That's- a good thing...?" Elesa asked. And a smile dawned on her face.

Oh no. You hadn't meant to be so enthusiastic upon learning that they weren't dating-

You blushed. Oops.

Elesa smirked. "You... You like the Subway Bosses, don't you?"

"Wa- We-Well- Kind... of?"

"Kind of?" She raised an eyebrow.

You turned bashful. "I- I've mentioned it before, just a little bit... but... I do have a smidgen of a crush on them."

Elesa watched as the flowers outside the cafe suddenly sprung to vigorous life- blooming and growing far too big for this time of year and bending immediately in the vicious breeze outside. "So you do like them. And you were nervous that... I was dating them?"

"W-Well... Not quite nervous you were dating them, er- well, I guess so...? But I- It's not like I'm going to ask them out or anything, it's just-"

"Why not ask them out?"

Your words faltered- Did Elesa really not know why...?

"E-Elesa, look at them! They're the Station Masters of the Unovan Transit System! They're famous pokemon trainers, they're also my bosses, they've got a million other women and men flocking for the opportunity just to meet them- Why would they even bother with one of their Depot Agents?"

Those were, by your point of view, perfectly acceptable reasons not to ask them out- And yes, they normally would be- But not to Elesa.

"Well, for starters, they've called you cute to my face before." She answered point blankly.

You'd been blushing before- Now you were truly beet red. No- No, why did Elesa have to say that? You were so hoping to get over your infatuation, not make it worse- Not give it the hope for it to become reality-!

"They've called you cute, they specifically asked for you to be the one to deliver documents to their office... They try to have lunch with you..."

"N-Nonsense, that's just- I mean, Emmet called Agent Shuusan cute the other day too!" Shuusan being one of your coworkers- One of the shortest and smallest of the Depot Agents, you'd almost thought him a child- Only for him to angrily show you his I.D, standing on tip toes to wave it in your face and prove that no, Emmet and Ingo were not violating Child Labor Laws and that he was, in fact, a 22 year old man. Who was barely five feet tall. He stopped shaving to prove it, giving his baby-face a comical appearance, but certianly making him look older. "-Besides, they have meals with the other Depot Agents all the time... and I'm still a junior Agent. I don't drive any trains, I'm not an electrician or an engineer, I'm still- I'm just a paper pusher for the most part- Why else would I be having to run back and forth between their office to bring them whatever they need? The other Agents are all doing actual work while I'm still in training! I mean, granted- I'm- almost ready to start actual conductor training, but-"

Elesa sighed.

"-And not to mention, they- They're always so friendly with some of the trainers who come to fight them..."

Your head fell as you stirred your coffee-

"Wait a minute." Elesa interjected, "Are you saying- You're jealous of them talking to other trainers?"

Your gaze shot up. "A-absolutely not! It's just- Sometimes a trainer tries to hug them, or flirts with them- And- It's so dumb, it's so idiotic, but- I... I feel horrible and so guilty for feeling so sick when I see them so close with other people- I don't think it's jealousy- I'm just- Really anxious that... They'll find someone. Or one of them will find someone. And- If they knew- If they knew I felt this way-"

You took a deep breath. "They'd probably fire me..."

Elesa shook her head. "No, no I don't think they would! Emmet and Ingo care far too much about you to ever think that, dear-"

"It- It's alright, Elesa. I'm sorry for burdening you with that. It's just a stupid little infatuation of mine. It's- It's really nothing. I'll be over it soon enough." You grabbed one of the cafe's menus off your table.

"I'd like to move on, if that's alright-? I'm going to order a muffin."

No, No you really should keep going with this line of talking it's the most progress she's made with you in months-

But as Elesa rubbed her temples- On second thought, maybe taking a break from the discussion would help a little bit.

---

"How in the name of Hell- Did she ever, ever arrive at such a conclusion?" Emmet hissed, angrily pacing in his and his brother's office. Elesa was sitting across from him and Ingo- Between the two, it was impossible to tell who looked more pained. Emmet turned his face towards Elesa, studying her intently for a second- Before backing off, his abnormally long tongue extending as he made a disgusted face. "Absolutely not. I do not like Miss Elesa. How. How did our sweet, dearest Darling ever come to think we liked you?"

"-Not to say we do not like you, Miss Elesa- As friends, of course-" Ingo interjected.

"...Of course." Elesa dryly returned. She was used to having vague insults hurled at her by the twins at this point-

"And we do not like it either when those cretins touch us without permission-! I tell them off immediately and tell them to never come back to our Subway! How has Darling missed that...?"

"...Honestly if she saw it from afar she probably didn't hear you guys admonishing your fans..."

"Ingo, new rule. We do not let them touch us. Understood?"

"Of course."

Elesa was quick to catch on, alarm bells ringing in her ears. "How are you two implementing that rule." She asked- No, demanded to know.

Ingo thought for a minute. "Simple. We can easily predict their movements- And simply back away-"

"Or break their hands for daring to touch us-"

"...That will be for extreme cases."

"No, you really shouldn't-"

The debate continued back and forth for some time still- Emmet really couldn't just even use a Joltik to electrocute their hands? No? Yes? No. But it would be entertaining- Still no. Emmet sighed. "Remember. You two are trying to be normal humans! Normal humans don't cut off each other's hands for touching them!" Emmet's hand curled up, his fingers pulled tight in a clawed position. "Then maybe I should stop acting so much like a normal human. I'm best we could win our Dearest's affections even if we were less human." "Absolutely not! You're not going to get anyone's affection if you remove their extremities!"

Emmet sat down at his desk- A massive spider crawling onto his lap. "I've earned someone's affection at least," He spat back, petting the head of his beloved spider, curling around him affectionately. "...Do you think our Sweetheart would fall in love with us if they were a spider? I would certainly love them even if they were a spider." He puffed up, hugging his Galvantula tighter. "I would love darling verrrry much. I know how to take care of spiders now."

"I think our Darling does, er- Prefer being human, I think, Brother." Ingo interjected, eying the look of terror on Elesa's face.

He adjusted his tie, sighing as he stood up. "As for now, however- We- We really should continue this discussion later." He noted, looking at the watch on his wrist. Elesa jumped up. "But-" "No buts, Miss Elesa. You have your duties to attend to, as we have ours. We shall not be turning anyone into spiders," He added, glaring down at his brother, who sheepishly ignored his glare and continued playing with the giant arachnid. "It was just a joke, brother. You're verrry mean."

Ingo looked back at Elesa. "Very well. Now, Miss Elesa?" He offered her his hand, and she sighed, taking it. He pulled her aggressively towards him and-

She was standing in front of her gym, almost tripping over her own feet from the force of Ingo pulling her.

"Those two..." She grumbled, flicking back her hair as she righted herself. Well. If she started having coffee with a spider, she'd have some choice words to share with them- And probably a very miserable looking Galvantula to shove in their face.

---

The twins were curious now- You'd admitted to being, at the very least, infatuated with them- And you felt how they felt, watching you flirt and talk with others when you went out- Jealousy. A sickening and powerful emotion, they knew. Ingo considered using it against you- But- The thought of attempting to feign interest in another human? He recoiled at the thought, his shadows around him reflexively scratching at the discomfort. It made him uncomfortable enough to approach you, desperate to assuage himself-

And you almost didn't notice your boss silently moving behind you- claws flexing, borderline outstretching- and wanting to grab at you. Jealousy may have been a sinister emotion, but obsession- posessive obsession- The beast that consumed the twin demons was far more terrifying. How easy it would be, Ingo thought, looking at how small and delicate you were- To just grab you, daze you, delude you, mark you up, pin you down, wrap you in the coils of his tail, in the grasps of his shadows-

And suddenly you jumped in horror as you turned your head- Noticing the dark shadow behind you.

"Good Arceus! Ingo-! Er, Sir! Station Master Sir! I'm so sorry, you gave me an awful fright there- I don't know how I didn't hear you behind me, goodness-"

You clutched at your heart, thudding in your chest from your sudden panic- Ingo could hear it plainly, and he'd already returned to normal by the time you looked at him. Had he really just-

"Er, is there anything- I can do for you, Sir?"

"Ah, er, No, no- You're good. My apologies for frightening you there, Miss. Are you alright?"

"O-Of course, Sir!" You took several deep breaths, Ingo offering you his arm to lean against.

"How goes your day?" He asked, after you had sufficiently calmed down.

"G-good, Sir. I delivered those work orders to Emmet like Agent Jackie told me to."

"Good." Ingo remarked, turning his attention down the hallway you were both standing in- Before looking back at you.

"You know, it is quite nice having you to run around for us. I'm sorry you've been stuck doing secretarial work for so long..."

"What? Oh, I don't mind Sir! I understand, training takes a while..."

"It's partially our fault, truly." Ingo apologized, before continuing on.

"-However, instead of continuing with such menial tasks... we'd like to ask you to accompany us on some other charges we must attend to. It's about time- You could begin learning about electrical system management, or perhaps- Becoming a conductor yourself. Of course, you'll still be expected to attend to maintenance- We all are, after all."

Ingo continued on, shifting himself down to your height. "What do you say to embarking with us for such assignments? You'll have the Depot Agents from time to time, but... Emmet and I must also attend to routine maintenance. We would be more than happy to train you on occasion."

You were wide-eyed- A little too surprised by your bosses' words. "I-I'd love that, Sir. But-"

Ingo clapped his hands together with such force it startled you. "Wonderful!" His voice becoming louder- "I shall inform Emmet immediately. You'll begin with us tomorrow morning."

And with that he turned away, walking off- Silently and secretly thrilled. They would be with you even more now-!

You blushed- Unsure what to make of the conversation that had just transpired.

But no matter- Now you'd be working and training alongside the Subway Bosses. Your poor heart thudded happily in your chest. More opportunities to indulge your wishes- Your dreams- That maybe, just maybe- The Subway Bosses really did- Truly-

Like you?

But only just a little bit, of course.

You breathed heavily, still a little shocked at how Ingo had snuck up on you-

In fact. How had he done that?

You knew you'd been alone in the hall- You'd looked around you only a second ago-

How did he do that, you wondered?

#Demon AU #Monster AU #Demon Submas #Monster Submas #Ingo/Reader #Emmet/Reader #Ingo/Reader/Emmet #submas x reader #Ingo X reader #Emmet X reader #Seth.anon #Seth.asks #Scale anon #Sethosover18 #Slightly

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purrincess-chat · 10 months

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The whole fandom is speculating that Adrinette will break up next season and / or there will be Ladynoir angst bc of Maribug keeping secrets. Do you think it's possible?

I feel like in general those ideas come from two different places and neither one are good in my opinion 🙄

People have been wanting Adrinette to break up or cheat on each other since they got together. That's not unique to this finale, it's just butthurt stans pouting and throwing a tantrum because it wasn't what they wanted so rather than getting over it and being happy the kids are together at all they'd rather see it crash and burn. For whatever reason. It's the weirdest take I've seen since they got together in canon. Like yeah we spent 5 seasons rooting for them and hoping they'd get together but now that they are together we totally want to see them break up and get together again but in different clothes because that totally won't fuck them up if they find out their identities later. Yeah, this person I totally moved on from and didn't want to date anymore is actually still my boyfriend/girlfriend. It's a different story if they are exes than if they are just friends. This fandom is so butthurt and wild that they don't even care about if it makes sense anymore 🤦‍♀️

The other side of this with people calling for angst bc Marinette is keeping secrets, to me, stems from people just wanting to salt Marinette. Which, what the hell else is new in this fandom? People have been gross about her since the beginning, but truthfully, I saw this coming when I learned what happens in the finale. I'm unsurprised. Because this fandom likes to blame young girls when, in reality, it's the fault of creepy grown ass men who could have just gone to therapy but chose domestic terrorism instead. 🤷‍♀️

Do I think either of these things will happen? Eh, maybe, maybe not. I think there will obviously be conflict in future seasons, and likely conflict within each of those dynamics because that's realistic and how stories work. I wouldn't mind there being Adrinette conflict that they resolve, that's good for their relationship growth. To break them up at this point would just be a middle finger to the audience and a way to drag us along. Because we know they're endgame so what would be the point other than prolonging the inevitable?

I definitely think there will be consequences to Gabriel's actions and his wish in future seasons. The show has always stated that there is a price to pay when someone makes a wish, and I think it's more than just Gabriel losing his life because he was going to lose that anyway, it wasn't much of a sacrifice. (And let's be real Gabriel's soul ain't worth much)

And for those that are genuinely curious if these things will happen and not coming from a salty place of just wanting to watch the world burn bc you're mad, time will tell. 🤷‍♀️ We will just have to wait and see.

Like I said, I plan to give this show until mid s6 at least before I decide whether I'll continue it or not. I'll give the new season a chance to show what it has to offer as far as continuing the story and where they're taking it next.

#cat replies #asks #ml spoilers

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semper-legens · 5 months

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171. The Sleepwalker, by Robert Muchamore

Owned: No, library Page count: 312 My summary: A plane breaks up in the air, plunging into the ocean with no survivors. The government is quick to suspect the worst, looking into terrorist links. And in the midst of it all, they get a phone call from a scared boy, alleging that his father had something to do with it. Now Lauren Adams is deputised to find out exactly what this kid knows, and quickly. They won't have the clearance to follow this hunch for long. My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

I've gotten my hands on the final four CHERUB books as a job lot, so expect them to come at a bit of a faster rate until I'm completely done with them. That said, more CHERUB! I'm amazed that I still remember this series as well as I do. Like I've been saying as I go through them, I'm finding them a lot less easy to enjoy than I did when I was a teenager, both for normal and unavoidable reasons (I'm an adult, these books are not aimed at me anymore) and for more troubling ones (the simplistic explanations of complex morality questions, the casual bigotry on display). Nonetheless, I still think that this idea of a teen spy network is interesting enough to warrant these books' existence. The problem is in the execution, not the idea, which means there's still enough here that's interesting to me that I can carry on with it. So, let's get into the Sleepwalker.

Unusually, this is a book that's about Lauren. She has the A plot, while James is stuck in a B plot that doesn't really go anywhere. (More on that in a bit.) Unfortunately, this isn't really the most riveting of CHERUB missions. Lauren and Jake are going in to talk to Fahim and get more detail about what he knows, but they're not really in deep cover - they're literally just going to ask him. Lauren gets to show off a cool head and just why she's one of the youngest black shirts ever. She's composed, makes good decisions, is ethical, and generally has a good head on her shoulders; this in contrast to Jake, who makes some serious schoolboy errors on the mission. But it's not as action packed as James' missions, or the past missions where we've seen Lauren deployed. It is good to see Lauren showing the maturity to get put back as senior agent on missions again after her misconduct punishments, but this one was sort of underwhelming for me.

James, meanwhile, is doing work experience in a fast food place. The premise here just felt contrived - the conflict is that other kids have gotten the more vaunted positions, so James is stuck at the fast food place with his ex-girlfriend. But like, the CHERUB staff are supposed to be good at understanding the dynamics between their agents, surely they can see that this is a bad idea? They end up getting close to their coworker, who has a sh--ty boyfriend, which leads to a fight. James and Kerry get yelled at over it and assigned punishment, but they've hit it off again, leaving Kerry to hit on James and James, surprisingly, to turn her down out of loyalty to Dana. I just…I didn't come into this series for the domestic lives of teens, you know? I don't care. Get back to the missions. All this will-they-won't-they feels jarringly out of place.

And now, for the elephant in the room. I've spoken before about how the CHERUB series more often than not falls down when it tries to address social issues, and the main plot of this book is a really good example of this. Lauren is investigating an eleven year old boy whose father is potentially involved with the loss of an aeroplane, which was brought down killing everyone on board. The kid's name is Fahim Bin Hassam, and he's of Arabic descent. The plane crashed on September the tenth. Obviously, people assume that terrorism was the reason behind the crash. As it turns out, it was actually a faulty part supplied by Fahim's father - he's a smuggler, but not a terrorist. Interesting twist, right? The problem with that is that Hassam is the exact stereotype of a controlling Muslim father. He's gotten rich through crime, beats his wife and son, kills his wife when he suspects she's going to the police, wants his son to be brought up in Abu Dhabi with his relatives where he will get a strict education, is casually misogynistic and exploits his cleaner, and hates how 'westernised' his son has become despite not exactly being the most devout or traditional himself. It's not a subversion of stereotypes about Muslim men if it then plays into every single one of those stereotypes at the same time. Hassam is given no redeeming features and no humanising moments, no nuance. He's a crook and a bad person, plain and simple. And that's just as much a stereotype as portraying him as bringing down the plane in a deliberate act of terrorism would have been.

Next up, an anthology of queer writings through time.

#The Sleepwalker #Robert Muchamore #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #3

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 6 months

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Sam Alito’s Deplorable Arguments for Letting Domestic Abusers Keep Their Guns

In the fantasy world of Opus Dei jurisprudence, two justices decide to go to bat for the rights of convicted domestic abusers to continue to have and use firearms as they perpetrate further crimes... because the Founders would approve, apparently...

Dahlia Lithwick: the arguments at 1 First St. on Tuesday morning steered clear of old Zackey Rahimi. Only after Justice Samuel Alito implied that when a woman seeks a protective order in a domestic violence setting, the results tend to be “he said, she said” situations concluding in restraining orders against both parties, and only after Justice Clarence Thomas suggested that there existed only a “very thin record” in the present case did it become necessary for the remaining justices to intervene with actual facts from the actual record. As Justice Amy Coney Barrett was forced to remind her colleagues, who were at that point just parroting gun industry talking points, Rahimi’s girlfriend “did submit a sworn affidavit giving quite a lot of detail about the various threats. It’s not like he just showed up and the judge said ‘Credible finding of violence.’ ”

But why stick to the facts when you can imagine better ones? So, despite the fact that Rahimi was not making a procedural argument about the unfairness of the civil restraining order process, both Alito and Thomas magicked up these objections. Despite the fact that there was a lower court’s finding that Rahimi was in fact a danger to his girlfriend and child, they coughed up hypotheticals that raised the issue of how generally unfair it is for courts to take away guns in a civil proceeding. As Thomas put it, “If this were a criminal proceeding, then you would have a determination of what you’re talking about—someone would be convicted of a crime, a felony assault, or something. But here you have something that’s anticipatory or predictive, where a civil court is making the determination.” Alito—unsurprisingly—fretted more about the rights of the poor beleaguered gun owner than the woman he terrorizes: “If the person [under the restraining order] thinks that he or she is in danger and wants to have a firearm, is that person’s only recourse to possess the firearm and take their chances if they get prosecuted?” In other words, the inversion process is now fully realized. The MAGA justices not only invent records in cases that have no facts. They also ignore the record in the cases that actually have them. Why consider the implications of actual gun violence when you can live in the imaginary world of good guys with guns suffering the indignities of legal restrictions?

Blessedly, at least on this occasion, there was no general agreement from the other conservative justices that pretending Zackey Rahimi right out of existence would yield better results. “You don’t have any doubt that your client is a dangerous person, do you?” Chief Justice John Roberts finally asked J. Matthew Wright, Rahimi’s attorney. Wright mulishly insisted that he would “want to know what dangerous person means.” Roberts, thus unable to ignore the actual facts of the case before him, supplied a plausible definition: “It means ‘someone who is shooting at people.’ … That’s a good start.” There was uneasy laughter in the chamber when Roberts said that, and Wright conceded it. In the current era, uneasy public laughter is often the signaling mechanism that lived reality has pierced a hypothetical John Wayne film festival being screened in D.C. Bruen was an interesting and failed lab experiment about deriving historical analogs from an imagined archive of founding documents. So, always follow the uneasy laughter—that tends to be where the people who end up as mass shooters and domestic abusers reside. “Someone who poses a risk of domestic violence is dangerous,” Barrett pronounced, conclusively, to the immense relief of the reality-based community on Tuesday. The result in the final Rahimi opinion will likely flow from that conclusion, which was shared by the chief justice and Justice Brett Kavanaugh (as well as, of course, the three progressive justices).

But the fact that the bulk of the 90-minute legal debate in Rahimi was untethered both from the established facts of this case and from the gun violence data in the many amicus briefs filed reveals that this is still a conservative supermajority that remains more interested in debating whether and when a justice of the peace can seize a musket from a white dude than considering whether disarming violent abusers is a good idea. It’s critical not to miss the connection between these oral arguments and Tuesday’s other major news event in U.S. political and civil life. Shortly after oral arguments in Rahimi, a whole lot of people showed up at the polls to indicate that they are still absolutely furious that Sam Alito and his tunnel-visioned buddies evinced no interest in the lived economic, emotional, and medical lives of half the population when they reversed Roe v. Wade a year and a half ago.

Democracy, it would seem, is less interested in establishing the correct level of abstraction for determining cunning historical analogs than in continuing to move through the modern world, alive. As embarrassing as the arguments in Rahimi proved to be, they also seem to signal that there are, for the moment at least, no longer five votes for the proposition that voters will shrug away violence and misogyny because, like, #history. From this court, that’s the best you can hope for. For this court, that’s a big retreat from the smug, wrong certainty that was

SLATE.COM

Sam Alito’s Deplorable Arguments for Letting Domestic Abusers Keep Their Guns

#domestic violence #gun violence #gun laws #gun rights #SCOTUS #corrupt SCOTUS #women's rights #justice #the law #rule of law #Slate.com #Sam Alito

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cosmicanger · 1 year

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“wish y'all would stop hyping up french protests because they will always continue to fail to result in any fundamental change as long as french's history, including that of today, of brutal colonialism is not addressed.”

“why don’t we protest like france” because you call anybody who does anything cool an outside agitator or secret fed or adrenaline junkie and you do not protect frontliners when they catch serious charges. unserious. you don’t have riots without rioters. you thought fireworks and construction supplies were a psyop. now you want barricades?”

“These fools literally cant handle a Black person calling out antiBlackness before it is socially profitable & they doing NOTHING to support Black folks protesting c*p city have the nerve to ask “omg where the protests in the empirical core?!””

“Most folks are way too into snitch-jacketing, fed-jacketing & badjacketing Black folks who call out anti-Blackness before it is socially profitable while engaging with various other COINTELPRO activities. Not serious at all.”

“I will still never ever forgive Twitter for turning on the girlfriend of Rayshard Brooks when she burnt up the same Wendy’s that got him killed…”

“"Imagine if people in the US protested like this" THEY DID! In 2020! The police beat the shit out of us! You all were there! It's wild to watch cause people are acting as if we're not living through the reaction to the Floyd protests. They're passing more laws to continue targeting protesters right now! They're charging protesters with domestic terrorism right now! This is because of those protests! Literally passed laws that made it okay for people to hit protesters with their cars. That was the response. The issue is here when things get to burning, Black people are blamed and the specter of Black violence doesn't stir the same revolutionary fervor for the public the way the French protests seem to inspire. If you're lamenting the lack of radical action in response to exploitive fiscal policy in the US, maybe we should look at the fact that the police have been given functional impunity for harming protesters with right-wing militias increasingly being deputized as well. But y'all want a radical confrontation with capital while funding the police as if we don't know how that will play out.”

#france #protest #france protests #antiblackness #quotes #theory

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chubby-aphrodite · 1 year

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Fun fact and profile rundown of my fantrolls. Because i havent posted about them in so long. feel free to ask questions.

Stygas Xillck (twilightCognizance [TC])

(Nightblood [Mutant]/Derse/Mage of Rage) [They/He]

Technically doesn't have a real lusus

what he likes to think is his lusus is actually just a giant salamander

Likes welding and making scrap metal art

Secretly going to explode at all times

Is actually an eldritch nightmare zipped into a bag of flesh (unaware of this fact)

Vesper Blusif (clandestineAchromic [CA])

(Silverblood [Mutant]/Prospit/Sylph of Space) [They/Them]

Does tarot and fights with it like yugioh

bitingly sarcastic but in such a way it wraps around to being sincere

(is very sincere)

knows morse

is actually an eldritch daydream zipped into a bag of flesh (is also unaware of this fact)

Venusu Hansol (cinnabarGravedigger [CG])

(Rustblood/Prospit/Thief of Heart) [He/Him]

is a butler (and hates it)

smokes (and also hates it)

committed domestic terrorism at least once

odd combination of abrasive and ass-kissing

i like to describe is pinterest board as "broken heart lovecore"

Alsyna Nimari (gritzyCamelus [GC])

(Bronzeblood/Derse/Witch of Hope) [She/Her]

scavenges for scrap in the desert and sells it

has an extremely high voltage double sided extendable cattle prod as a weapon

her girlfriend is in another ocean

she can be almost motherly at times

takes no shit

Colkis Safrin (goldenAutomaton [GA] (formerly goldenApothecary))

(Goldblood/Derse/Knight of Void) [She/Her]

very sweet on the outside

driven by guilt on the inside

she's all right now! (missing her left arm and leg)

pick you poison (or don't. she might not have your order in until tuesday anyway.)

plagued by visions (does not care very much)

Xeonii Gelgle (alaryAvian [AA])

(Oliveblood/Prospit/Page of Life) [They/Them]

acerbic in only the way they can be

got an avian lusus? going somewhere without them? have i got the birdsitter for you!

can't afford to refill their cocoon with slime

has a pet bird named archduke franz birdinand

plagued by visions (cares too much. may or may not be a cosmic plaything.)

Eraria Nekses (asterionsCrochet [AC])

(Jadeblood/Derse/Maid of Breath) [She/Her]

she drinks... wine. (she made it herself!)

nobody gets past her minotaur dad and lives to tell the tale. unless it's colkis or alsyna.

believes in second chances. and third. and fourth. and fifth.

she crochets in her spare time

missing an eye and part of her horn

Phaida Gliess (tremulousAria [TA])

(Tealblood/Prospit/Heir of Light) [She/Her]

works in the propaganda office (does not like it)

sad failgirl who inexplicably attracts peoples

it takes a lot to push her to extremes but when she's there she's there

the stupid hat is non-negotiable

self loathing up the wazoo

Drakoh Slygra (controlledChaos [CC])

(Ceruleanblood/Prospit/Prince of Doom) [He/Him]

asshole but he has a nice ass

violent and confrontational but somehow charming enough to pull it off

contractually obligated by the government to cause mayhem

hypocrite of the highest order

flirty to a fault (a really big fault. this man is in some kind of cheating mobius strip.)

Perisi Tarene (testyTrifler [TT])

(Purpleblood/Derse/Seer of Time) [She/Her]

she goes to church every week to start theological arguments

extremely blind without her glasses

likes to find meaning in numbers (thinks being good at math is a personality)

really short

might bite you

Sybell Myrrki (ghastlyGashes [GG])

(Purpleblood/Prospit/Prince of Blood) [She/Her]

if you touch perisi you will die a painful death by her hand

is the sole reason nobody has killed perisi for blasphemy yet

the bangs aren't just fashionable, they're functional! (covers her blind eye)

woman of few words

swings both ways. violently. with a bat.

Nemosa Laevis (commandeeredTrireme [CT])

(Violetblood/Derse/Bard of Doom) [She/Her]

doesn't do anything half assed

scourge of the seas, enforcing the rule of the empire without scrutiny

her girlfriend is in another desert

doesn't question much in life

if she puts on her jacket shit just got real

Amphia Reynas (abyssalTristesse [AT])

(Fuschiablood/Derse/Rogue of Mind) [She/Her]

well meaning, but sheltered and out of touch

gee amphi how come the author let you have TWO lusii?

Smart in a book smarts kind of way but dumb in the social interactions and real world wisdom kind of way

if you get between her and whatever she has her spear pointed at you are dead dead dead dead dead

bubbly

#fae talks #fantroll #my oc #my ocs

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nityarawal · 1 year

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Mary- This isn't a joke. My kids and I have been exploited by judges your family hired in Busch admin of divorce courts. Ask them all to step down and confess grooming racket.

I need my kids now.

I gave you many chances to redeem yourself & family name with honor and innocence but you choose the low road of bribes & doxing my animal rescue locations.

My son, brother, parents & ex are on this thread.

Why are you mocking my settlement needs for kids & I with patronizing drunken jokes? We have a serious issue of estrangement and you're being callous selling yourself & kid- attempting to pimp me to your sex sting- murdering airbnb colleagues & slumming my community out of their rightful homes. Apparently you can't buy real estate with your "pussy" my dear.

Kegan is welcome to stay with us anytime in his own room and I will chaperone! Kegan's girlfriend sounds like Angie Husky- one of the Groomers from court in Faurfield that messed around most of my friends with promiscuous foul play- or her elder brother molested in rapes.

Kegan wants to be a kid. He says he's too young to ride horses or use marijuana- so why do you pimp him out to Republican Wasps as a sex toy?

This is not parenting faith of America. Busch's ruined our country with Iran revolution in 70's under your grandad John Smitz & he pimped your aunt Mary Kay Letourneau to court on his pedophile maps minor attracted people's agenda rather than handle ger DV sutuation appropriately!

We Blame Buschs for domestic in house terrorism on 9/11 to create racism with middle East.

The weight of last 3 wars are on your head. You had one opportunity to make peace and redeem yourself and your family from a life of Trafficking.

How many girls has Justin trafficked & killed now?

Why on earth would you introduce me to your sex circle on bribes?

We can't be sold.

We won't be sold.

And your family will make amends- cooperatively or by an act of God- we trust.

Jai Guru Dev,

Nitya

Yes- what would that be in your expert drunk opinion Mary?

Did you figure out what PTSD is yet? Or are you still tunneling with Justin in the bi-polar combative world. How does Danny deal with that? Just wrestles with you? Lol

Looks unpleasant my dear. Is that what you're teaching Kegan to do?

My family wants me to have my home and know I cook for my family and community. You can't maintain a household so don't understand importance of mommy at home. Your farm was a mess before I whipped it into shape and so was Dan and the dogs- all starving- and now you beg for food but have no grace to do your simple duty. Estrangement & parent alienation is a medical issue- you are right-reunification and mothering of children is solution and healing anecdote. Including you. My kid I nannied runs airbnb- don't take bribes to kill our sisters. My songwriting therapy is taking off. Gay guys' love me in dessert for my voice- apparently- and want me to teach.

Perhaps journalists will command more than a Schmitz 'pussy' on black market? Lol

We pray for your family. Mine just needs to revert to legal custody orders.

Yours needs ww3 peace & purification- whatever means Mother Nature uses- God speed Sharkbait!

Thanks. Stop smear campaign and whistleblow on your pimps. I need my kids. Peace.

Lol- Joan- I Begged same! Please pay for my car and registration. I asked you not to put me into your court contentious mess but you chose our involvement on the purification of slumlorders right? This is a collassal issue. Did you get Settlements for Glen and I yet for workman's comp and terrorism?

You took bribes on a global custody battle. You'll be famous on dears. Every sweet note I sent was published and copyrighted for our civil case issue. Xo

I am- whistleblowing feels so damn good. Try it. Better than blowing all those moldy cocks for sure!!!

Peace. Thankyou. Can't wait to see settlement you negotiate today w/ my kids smiling faces backing it. (:

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

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“I’m Not Soft.”

Request 5: Techno and the voices simping for the reader, maybe after reader gets in (and wins) a fight or something more domestic like farming or playing with Steve

Requested By: Anonymous

(Technoblade X Female Reader)

~Added a little bit of spice~

Technoblade kicked the snow off his boots sending little flurries all inside the doorway of his cabin. He had just arrived home, he was coming home much later than he anticipated getting held up at a long-running syndicate meeting. He was greeted by the savory smell of baked potatoes and steak, it had him practically drooling. Techno wandered into the kitchen after hanging up his cloak by the door, his plate was sitting in the furnace. He peeked inside and saw it was set on low heat just to keep his food warm, he smiled softly.

‘She’s so thoughtful. Keeping it warm for us. We should give her a kiss! Where even is she? Find her before you eat. You can sit together!’

Technoblade let out a soft hum of acknowledgment listening to the advice of the voices and searching for his lady love. He stepped into the living room and noticed the fire was roaring away in the fireplace, you were still here then, very early on he made sure you knew to put the fireplace out when you were finished in the room. He had a close call with Tommy when he was living here, and since then he made sure to remind you constantly about the fireplace. He spotted you and Steve curled up next to one another by the said fireplace, you were buried in his white fur and he was snoring away loudly beside you. A book was in your lap and you were wearing one of his shirts as a pajama top, socks with little bears on them adorned your feet.

‘Oh my god, they’re so cute together. Take a picture! Take a picture! She looks so peaceful…’

Technoblade smiled gently making sure he did end up snapping a picture, just so he could tease you about it later. Plus you were adorable and you snuggling with Steve really melted his frozen heart,

‘SIMP!’

“You guys are doing the same thing shut up.” He growled under his breath finally walking over to you, Steve cracked his eyes open and let out a low snarl before comprehending who stood in front of him. Once he recognized The Blade he let out a disgruntled huff before falling back asleep, his movement caused you to stir. Technoblade watched as you rub the sleep from your eyes, before running your hands through your messy hair. “Morning Princess,” He cooed squatting down beside you. You blinked blearily at him for a moment before a smile lit up your face, you moved quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He couldn’t help but smile in response to the hug, his hands were placed on his lower back as he squeezed.

‘So small and cute. Just like a little kitten.~ Can you give her a kiss now? I’m tired of asking for a kiss just do it. Stop making him sound like a simp. Wait look she’s pulling away-’

You pressed a kiss to his lips murmuring a weak, ‘welcome home Protesilaus.’ He shivered a little at the use of his Greek title and gave you a kiss back.

“Did you make me dinner?” You hummed nodded your head sleepily, “You spoil me, Princess.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and you nuzzled into it, you looked blissful.

“Only cause you deserve it, big guy. Want me to sit with you while you eat.”

“If you’re up for it.” Another kiss was pressed against the side of his lips and he purred fondly. You giggled a little and he flushed darkly, “Don’t laugh at me that’s cringe.”

“Not laughing at you, I just love it when you purr. You’re like a big lion, who’s only soft for me.” He scoffed with an eye roll,

“I’m soft to no one.”

“Sure you’re not Tech.” You gently pat his cheek before standing up and cracking your back, Technoblade stood up beside you. The both of you walked into the kitchen, you sat at the table while he grabbed his meal. He dug in and his eyes fluttered,

“This is so good, god I’m so glad you’re my girlfriend.”

“Just for the cooking?” You teased fluttering your eyes at him and he looked thoughtful for a moment,

“Well, that and the great se-” You let out an indignant sound interrupting his sentence you went so red it even spread to your ears. Technoblade laughed loudly, “You’re so adorable when you’re flustered,” a smirk spread across his lips.

‘We got her. Oh my god, she’s so cute. Awwww she’s embarrassed what a sweetheart. You should pinch her cheeks. Show her what we mean- DON’T BE GROSS. He was gross first though!’

“You’re a terror,” You scoffed fanning your hot face with your hand trying to cool yourself down.

“Exactly and don’t you forget it, Princess.” He had a soft pink flush across his cheeks as you flipped him off, “Maybe later.”

“Techno!” You squawked as he roared with laugher, “What is with you tonight!?”

“I just missed you. I’ve been away from you all day can you blame me?”

“I suppose not…” You trailed off smiling softly over at him and he smiled right back at you. “I’m going to head to bed, you coming or what?”

“I’m right behind you.” He hummed placing his plate in the sink before following you up the stairs.

The next morning was dedicated solely to you, not only because Technoblade wanted to but also because the voices just wanted to stay close to you. Your head was tightly tucked underneath his chin as he watched you sleep. The rise and fall of your chest was hypnotic and he placed his hand on your chest feeling your heartbeat flutter against his hand. He smiled watching you wake up for a second time with a sweet yawn, he kissed your nose as you regained consciousness. You snickered softly giving him a kiss right back, “Morning Techno.”

“Morning Princess,” He greeted, “I was wondering if you wanted to walk Steve with me today.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you smiled warmly “on one condition.”

“And that would be?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, his hand gently stroking your hip.

“I get to wear your cape.” His face scrunched up with disgust,

“My cape is sacred, you know this.”

“I promise I’ll take really good care of it. Please for your wonderful and stunning girlfriend.”

“Eh?” He muttered as you batted your eyelashes at him, and despite his original distaste the voices melted seeing your face.

‘She’s so cute. Adorable, look at those big ole eyes. Tell her she’s cute! Love of our life truly. She’s a teasing little shit ain’t she? Let her wear the cape, what's the harm?’

“Cringe,” Technoblade said instead and the voices groaned loudly in his ears, he watched your face settle into a pout. He clicked his tongue annoyed at your pout, “come or don’t either way I gotta walk Steve- oof-“ Technoblade grunted as you sat down on his hips glaring at him.

“Give me the cape now.” You glared into his eyes, hands gripping onto his shoulders, his eyes lit up with amusement.

“Oh, you taking charge here Princess? I don’t mind if you think you can handle me.” The voices and he relished in the way your entire face turned red and you rested your forehead on his neck.

“You’re impossible but I’m still taking your fucking cape cringe-lord.”

“Nerd.” He mused with a fond kiss to your lips, “but fine. I suppose you can borrow it.” Technoblade relented with a small smile, as your entire face lit up like the sun.

‘Worth it. That smile! Be still my heart! She’s going to look so adorable. Trust us Techno you made the correct choice.’

He rolled his eyes and watched you tilt your head to the side, “The voices?” Technoblade gave a little nod.

“They’re being stupid.”

‘STUPID! FUCK OFF! WE’RE HELPING YOU SCORE!’

“What’re they saying?”

Sweat gathered on Technoblade’s brow, well now he couldn’t say they were complimenting you. He’d look like such an asshole.

“Nothing important.” He tried to cover himself up quickly and you gave a little smirk of your own. “Shut up don’t-“

“Aw, do they like me?~” You cooed pinching the man’s cheek. “I love them too, they’re a part of you after all.” Now it was Technoblade’s turn to flush red all over if the voices weren’t gushing before they were now.

‘Kiss her oh my god kiss her. We love her too! Tell her that right now! She needs to know! Bark bark bark bark! Everyone here is a simp. I’m the only one with a brain cell. Technooooooo tell her pleaaaaaseeeee.’

“They Ugh...they want me to tell you they love you too.” He watched you smile again, “they also want me to give you a kiss.”

“Well tell them I accept their kiss.”

“Oh, they know sweetheart believe me.” He leaned forward to capture your lips, he felt you sigh pleasantly against them. His hands moved down to rest on your hips, rubbing gentle circles on them. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss but you pulled away from him, he let out a growl of disagreement.

“Oh hush up you grump. We have to feed the bears and dogs, plus if we’re walking Steve we need to get going.”

“Tease.” He grunted as you whacked him on the chest, before hopping off his lap to get dressed. He followed you out of bed, as the both of you got ready for the day ahead. You finished before Techno and slid down the ladders to whip up a quick breakfast and feed Steve. By the time Technoblade came downstairs, Steve was happily chowing away and you handed Technoblade two slices of bread. He gave you a quick kiss on the side of his head before shoveling the food into his mouth, he heard you giggle and he raised an eyebrow. “What’re you laughing at exactly?”

“You’re eating like Steve,” Technoblade made an indignant sound of protest which only caused you to laugh harder. Sometimes he genuinely wondered how he put up with you but then he remembered he loved you and wouldn’t trade you for the world. He only rolled his eyes at you before grabbing Steve’s designated leash and hooking him up to it, the bear let out a huff and his little stub of a tail began to wiggle. “Someone’s excited,” You cooed at the bear scratching under his chin, “My big ole sweetheart.”

“(Y/n) he’s supposed to be a killing machine please don’t coddle him.”

“Oh fuck off Techno. Look at his face!” You squished the bear’s cheeks between your hands, “he wouldn’t hurt a fly!” The bear rumbled loudly in his throat but it was more of a pleasant sound than a threatening one. Technoblade raised an eyebrow at the antics before him,

“Leave our guard bear alone and go put on your boots.” You huffed but ultimately decided not to be a brat and listen to your boyfriend for once, you stood beside the door as Steve and he wandered up towards you. An eyebrow was raised and he looked you up and down,

“What?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He watched you slowly blink before patting the sides of your winter jacket, and he chuckled deeply. He took off his cape and draped it across your shoulders, your face lit up and you snuggled into the fluff. It flowed behind you much more than it did when Technoblade wore it, it was swallowing you up.

‘She’s so precious! We were correct, good job Techno. Such a good, sweet girl. We’re protecting her from the harsh elements! True! You don’t want her to get sick do you?’

Technoblade snapped out of his thoughts as he felt a soft kiss against the side of his cheek, “Thank you Tech, you made my morning.”

“Anything for you.”

‘We’d kill for her you know. If anyone even looks at her wrong we’ll tear them apart. Guys, could you lighten up a little? Sheesh. Never she’s our stability.’

“Shall we?” He held out his arm and you wrapped your hand around it snuggling against his side, he really was down bad for you. The both of you stepped out it was a beautiful sunny day the wind only a gentle chill, Techno grunted as Steve eagerly pulled him forward. He heard you laugh as he stumbled down the steps, he shot you a glare over his shoulder and you flipped him off.

‘Hot.’

Technoblade’s face scrunched up in disbelief, “what the hell chat…” he muttered but the heat he felt in his cheeks showed he agreed with the voices. Once again at his side the two of you walked in the direction of Snow Chester, once you both came to the shoreline Technoblade turned towards you. “Would you like to visit L’manhole someday day soon?”

“Like you even have to ask me that. I’d love to see the damage you caused.”

‘Our little anarchist in training.~ I for one, Can’t wait for her to join the Syndicate. We don’t want her to remember, we want to protect her. Exactly, her joining could put her at risk.’

“Then we’ll go soon I promise.”

“I look forward to it big guy,” You cooed, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips that sent electricity down to the tips of his toes. He tilted his head deepening the kiss slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, it was so small in his hand. He loved hearing the soft whimper you made against his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth but the moment was shattered as he heard Steve let out a low warning growl. He rapidly pulled away and shoved you behind his back, he came face to face with BadBoyHalo, the egg cult leader himself. “Is that BBH?”

“Looks like it,” Techno muttered as you slipped out from behind him, the demon was in his smaller form and he waved enthusiastically. “Careful Princess,” Techno murmured hesitantly, watching him skip over, “remember the egg.”

“I got this Tech, no worries. I’ll be back in a moment alright.” You met Bad halfway and Technoblade shuffled uncomfortably.

‘Don’t let her go. He’s gonna hurt her. Keep a steady eye. She’s not fragile but eavesdrop just in case. Be careful, and keep alert. Blood for the Blood God. Not yet shut up.’

Technoblade clicked his tongue but did eavesdrop on their conversation allowing Steve to sniff at the ground nearby for bugs.

“(Y/n) my little muffin! How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing good Bad! I haven’t seen you in a while, how're you doing? Still doing egg stuff?”

“Of course silly! That’s why I wanted to visit you.” He grabbed your hands, “I need your help.” He grazed his claws across the back of your hands, Techno watched you raise a suspicious eyebrow.

‘That’s my girl. Always being suspicious and alert.’ He mentally praised, and the voice agreed with his though,

“And that help would be what exactly?”

“You need to convince Techno to give the egg a second chance!” You stared at him blankly and Technoblade tried not to laugh.

“Bad, you’re one of my good friends but I fucking hate the egg too.” His smile faltered a little bit and Technoblade’s hand went to the sword on his hip. Bad’s smile quickly returned and cupped your cheeks,

“Language dear.” He scolded his smile turning strained, “this just means I need to introduce you to the egg silly! It’s going to love you,”

“Bad No.” He began to squeeze your face, nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks. Your eyes flashed with fear and Technoblade was about to step forward and intervene but skidded to a halt as he watched you knee Bad in the stomach. Technoblade’s jaw fell open, as you grabbed Bad’s arm as he bent over in pain and flipped him over your shoulder slamming his back into the snow and dirt. Bad let out a pained sound, but all Technoblade could focus on was the way his cape flew to the side with a flourish as you recovered. Your hair stuck to your cheeks as you glowered at the demon, “Don’t touch me.” You stood up, looking more regal than Techno’s ever seen you look, “Go home Bad, and don’t come back till you’ve sorted yourself out. This egg thing has really fucked with your head.” You walked back over towards Techno and smirked at him the fire in your eyes still burning bright. You brought a hand towards his face and you closed Technoblade’s jaw with your finger, “You’re going to catch flies babe.” His jaw snapped shut as you winked at him, you took Steve from his hand and began to walk away.

‘Damn the cape’s covering her ass. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE FOCUSING ON?! SHE JUST FLIPPED BADBOYHALO LIKE HE WAS A SACK OF POTATOES! NO FUCKS GIVEN! Stop screaming you’re too loud. Get me a woman who can flip me like that. God, I love strong women. Techno go make out with her right now don’t let her get away with that! We made the right choice with her, maybe she should join the Syndicate. Yeah but then seeing this side wouldn’t be as special-’

“Tech you coming?” You called over your shoulder,

‘Yes ma’am. Anything for you. Such a tease.’

He said nothing but followed in your footsteps, hands twitching at his sides, desperately trying to ignore the way the voices purred and begged for him to make out with you right here in the snow.

As soon as you removed the collar from around Steve’s neck, and hung it back in it’s place by the door Technoblade pushed you up against the wall. You gave a squeak in surprise that he absolutely relished in, maybe he was a little bit of a sadist. His cape fell from your shoulders with a soft clatter as he roughly pressed his lips to yours, he watched your eyes droop closed before closing his eyes as well. “That was the hottest thing we’ve ever fucking seen,” He growled against your lips hoisting you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist.

“We?” You said breathlessly as his kisses moved from your lips and down to your neck,

“The voices.” He nipped at the skin between your shoulder and neck, enjoying the way your breath hitched in your throat.

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thump. Techno snickered against the burning skin on your neck, you whined a little before meekly murmuring, “Don’t stop. Please Technoblade.”

‘Well, you heard the little lady. Don’t stop Technoblade. Make her beg some more first. Agreed, that’s what she gets for teasing us after all. Give the girl what she wants already. Who are we to deny her when she looks like that? We live to please one person and that’s her.’

Technoblade panted softly, throughout his life he was never one to deny giving the voices what they wanted. Especially when that something was you.

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smurphyse · 2 years

Text

Seven Sleepless Years

Masterlist

Part 1 of Mutual Irritation

Pairing: Post Prison Jaded!Spencer Reid x Witsec!Reader

Series Summary: A year after prison, a jaded Spencer Reid takes on a special assignment at Emily's request... to babysit Finn Doyle's ex-girlfriend while the BAU hunts for him. He doesn't want to do it, nor does he want to be solely responsible for her safety. When the two meet, they don't get along, but over time they find they quite enjoy one another... even with the threat of a jealous Irish Arms Dealer hanging over their heads.

Word Count: 3192

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: angst, allusions to Maeve, mentions of prison arc, reader is a victim of stalking and domestic violence (forewarning yall!), stalking, intimidation, creepy ass gift giving.

Summary: We learn about the Reader a bit and what she does for a living, and why she hates Emily Prentiss. Meanwhile, Emily asks Spencer for a favor!

It had been seven years since you had a good night's sleep.

When Ian Doyle broke out of prison, the FBI dropped everything to track him down, to hunt down Emily Prentiss when she went rogue and save her.

They didn't think about you, neither did Emily.

She knew what you were going through, to have her attacker and one of the most terrifying men in the world free from imprisonment. She was a rat in a cage and Ian was the cat waiting outside to pounce.

And when he ‘killed’ her, you ran. You hardly slept, hardly ate, becoming a shell of yourself in the wake of your one protector disappearing from the world and leaving you helpless and alone.

When she came back and found you in Dallas, you couldn't help but feel betrayed.

Because when Ian escaped, so had his brother, the man who terrorized you for years and sent you on the run with Emily's help five years before. She knew what you'd been through, knew how terrified you were of the Doyles and what they could do… and still she left you to fend for yourself.

You took the passports she gave you, the new identities and cash, and ran again into the night.

Because they never caught Finn Doyle, even after his brother was murdered on a tarmac in front of his child and the FBI.

It took six and a half more years for you to stop running, worn down and exhausted. Six months ago you'd settled down begrudgingly with Emily's help, buying a book store in a nice neighborhood in DC and furnishing the apartment upstairs.

You had finally begun to feel safe again, though you refused to speak to Emily unless you had to. She gratefully let you be, checking in now and then.

Sometimes you spotted her car idling down the street from your shop, or caught a glimpse of her as you walked down the block. When that happened, you turned on your heel and went the other way.

You hated her, hated how she'd left you all alone to fend for yourself during the most terrifying seven months of your life. You would never forgive her, and you didn't want to.

When you were eighteen you traveled to Italy for a study abroad program, taking literature classes and enjoying your calm, easy life when you met Finn Doyle.

He was beautiful and kind, with bright blue eyes and a strong jaw that entranced your sheltered heart and had you falling for him before you really knew who he was.

You met Emily when she was living as Lauren Reynolds, sleeping with Ian and partaking in his criminal underworld. You had been woefully naive… content to spend your nights in Finn's bed and explore your first love. The time came for you to go home, and you tearfully said goodbye to your Irish love and went back to the states… until he found you and convinced you to come back.

Things were different after that. Finn was possessive and jealous. He became cruel, no longer the sweet, giving man you'd known for the ten months spent in the Italian countryside and lounging with him in the sun.

You and Lauren had grown close, and when she was extracted from the compound, she had the agents take you with her.

Knowing the Doyles and their penchant for revenge, she gave you a new name and a new life in New York, and you made your living writing bodice rippers and hiding out like a recluse in your apartment.

When she came to Boston she warned you about their escape, gave you new identities and money, and you disappeared. When she 'died,' you did it again…and again and again.

You were finally setting down, thinking maybe Finn forgot about you and was letting you go. You'd made friends, mostly with your employees, and tonight you were going out to a club with Dani.

She had become your closest friend, a loud brash woman from the Bronx who made you smile even when you didn't want to. You were still a bit shy, sometimes painfully so, and she brought out a confidence you hadn't felt in almost thirteen years, not since Finn destroyed your naivety and turned you into a reclusive hermit petrified of the world outside.

You took your time getting ready, drying off after your shower and rubbing your fresh skin with vanilla spice lotion. As always, your fingers lingered over the jagged scar on your left thigh, then brushed around to its sister scar on the other side, desperately pushing away the memories of that night when he found you seven years ago.

When you woke up in the hospital after, confronted with a very not dead Emily Prentiss, and your body aching and sore, you swore it would never happen again. Finn would never hurt you like that again, and you couldn't rely on Emily to protect you from him, not when she willingly abandoned you for seven months, only coming back when it was too late. Next time he'd kill you for sure.

Or worse, he'd take you with him when he disappeared again.

You pushed that horrible thought aside and finished getting ready.

You always loved stilettos and glitter, that part of you who loved Finn's extravagant gifts and fine things still living inside you. You made enough money to buy them for yourself now between your books and the shop, and you did so whenever you wanted. You deserved it, after everything you'd been through, to wear nice clothes and have a frankly ridiculous shoe closet.

So you tugged on a draping gold glitter crop top, the thin metal straps cool against your shoulders. You had on a pair of tight black jeans and red patent stilettos, your hair piled into a messy bun at the back of your head. You put in a pair of medium gold hoops and you were ready to go.

Dani only knew you by your writing pseudonym, the same identity you’d used to buy the bookshop, Elizabeth Winters, but she called you Buffy. She thought it was funny, Buffy ‘the Vampire Slayer’ Summers and you, the darker version of her with your medium skin and dark curly hair. You two were night and day, but you wished you were really as strong as Buffy Summers. You supposed in your own way you were.

Your apartment was small, one large and one small bedroom with a good sized bathroom off the kitchen. It was a pretty open floor plan, the living room serving as both your dining area and library. You had bookshelves lining every available wall despite having a literal library downstairs, the only open wall was the bay windows at the front of your apartment that your couch looked toward.

Your front door led down to the bookshop, and you liked it that way. There was only one way to get into the apartment, aside from the fire escape outside your bedroom window, but you’d had a security company come in and seal the whole place with alarms that went directly to your phone.

It was a cute little place, and you were finally happy… or at least getting there.

Dani was waiting downstairs, sitting behind the cash register and twirling her hair through her fingers and flipping through a magazine as you descended the staircase and locked the door behind you.

“Hoo!” she howled as she saw you, slapping the magazine down and giving you a wolfish grin. “Look at you! I didn’t know you had it in ya, Buff!”

You did a little twirl for her, and she let out another screech of excitement as she saw the back of your shirt, or lack of one anyways. The draped gold was held together behind you with the same delicate chains that encircled your shoulders, and it left you feeling delightfully sexy and exhilaratingly exposed for a night out.

“Are you finished?” you asked with a smile, and she nodded. “Let’s get out of here, then.”

Dani rounded the register and looped her arm in yours, the two of you walking out the double doors and into the warm DC night.

------------------------

Spencer leaned heavily on his fist, his eyes blurring over as he stared at a casefile. His mind kept wandering, unable to focus on anything of real importance as it exhaustedly struggled to perform.

Since prison, he’d had a hard time focusing on anything except the wallowing pool of his memories. A year later and all he thought about was his time inside, his mother, Maeve, Gideon, and all the other horrible things that had happened to him over the past thirteen years.

He was struggling, badly.

He was just about to call it a night, glancing at the clock on his computer that read 12:32 am, when Emily’s office door opened. He had his satchel on his shoulder, giving her a small wave of goodbye when he noticed the look on her face.

Her eyes were wide, panicked, as she searched the room, her gaze landing on him and her shoulders deflating.

“Reid,” she breathed, hurrying down the walkway and stairs, rushing up to him.

Spencer set his bag down, realizing he should have left an hour ago instead of making that third pot of coffee. Emily put a nervous hand on his forearm as she approached, looking up to him with worry and something he hadn’t seen in a long time… fear.

“What’s going on?” he asked solemnly, the fatigue from the day suddenly lifting from him as he snapped into action. Something was wrong, something had happened, and he’d seen that look on the team’s faces enough times to know it was big.

“I need your help,” she started, looking over her shoulder quickly and then back to him. “Special assignment, I don’t know for how long.”

“What is it?” he asked quietly, rubbing his hand over hers on his arm. She seemed to relax a little, but her body language still held a coiled panic that he wanted to take from her. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Not here. Round Table Room.”

Emily rushed ahead of him, leading him up to the case room and quickly shutting the door behind him. Spencer’s chest began to tighten with nerves as she started to pace, picking at her fingernails and biting her cheek.

“I fucked up,” Emily said, stopping for a moment to stare at him, stare past him, really. Her eyes were glossy, darting around the room for her feet while she stood still. “I really fucked up.”

Emily paced again, nodding as Spencer watched with concern. He knew her well enough to know that she would get it out eventually, but with all that had happened over his time with the BAU, he was beginning to get agitated. His skin prickled with anticipation, suddenly feeling too tight and painful as he watched her.

Just as he was about to ask her again what was wrong, Emily pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, so he did the same.

“When Ian Doyle was arrested in Italy, Interpol arrested his brother as well,” she began slowly, picking at her fingernails again absentmindedly. Spencer reached out and clapped his hand over hers to rid her of the distraction, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. “He had a girlfriend, a prisoner, really, but I couldn’t help her without risking my cover. When they were arrested I brought her back to the States with Declan and Louise, but I sent her away so she’d be safe. If they were all together they’d likely be tracked easier…”

“Okay…” Spencer nodded, goading her on. “What happened?”

“When Ian escaped from Camp 22 in Korea, his brother was broken out of a jail in Northern Ireland. Ian was the main target, Finn seemed like a small fish comparatively, so they didn’t worry too much about him.” Emily frowned, her hands twitching under Spencer’s palm. “I was so scared of Ian hurting the team that I just… let Finn’s girlfriend sit on the backburner, and when I faked my death, she had to go into hiding again so he couldn’t find her.”

“You just left her?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing, but he wasn’t surprised. Emily had been scared for her life and theirs, panicked and just trying to survive… something Spencer knew all too well about.

“I had to,” Emily told him, her voice barely above a whisper. “I gave her some cash, a new identity before everything came to a head. I thought she’d be fine while I was in Paris so I didn't tell her I was alive. When I got back, she was pissed… to say the least. She’d spent seven months running, just like I had, but she doesn’t have my training.

“Finn Doyle was never found, so I’ve been hiding her since I got back. Six months ago I moved her to DC at her request, but she still hates me.”

“If she’s safe, what does it matter?” he asked, but Emily’s guilt was clear. She’d left that girl to fend for herself, and knowing the Doyles the way that he did, she had probably been petrified.

“Finn Doyle was spotted at Dulles. Clyde Easter gave me a heads up, but Interpol lost him again. He’s back in the States…” Emily groaned in annoyance, shaking her head and her chin wobbling. “I can’t let this girl get hurt again.”

“Move her again,” Spencer said, but Emily shook her head once more.

“If he’s in the US, then he’s either working or looking for her… or both. I can’t move her, it’ll just risk her safety. I need your help.”

“Emily, I’ll do anything for you,” Spencer soothed, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. “You know that.”

“I need you to stay with her,” she started, but Spencer shook his head.

“No,” he said sharply, standing and moving to stand by the window. He was still too raw from prison. They’d hardly let him back into the BAU after everything that happened. The thought of being solely responsible for this woman’s safety and having to live with her made him twitchy and anxious. He liked being alone, far away from the crowded prison and safe in his own home. He had too many nightmares…

“Please, Spencer,” she begged him, coming to stand next to him and look up with those big sad eyes. “She doesn’t trust me.”

“Have Luke do it, she’ll feel safer with him.”

“No, she won’t.”

Spencer turned to look at her, and it hit him, “Luke’s too imposing, too strong like Finn Doyle probably is.”

Emily nodded, so he continued, “I’m not a threat, but I’m still a man, so she’ll feel more comfortable with me in her home. Luke will remind her too much of her abuser even though he’s the nicest guy in the world.”

“It has to be you,” Emily said quietly, and Spencer nodded in resignation.

His eyes glazed over again as he tried to ignore the anxiety lighting through his veins. He didn’t want to get to know this woman, to keep her safe, then watch her die just like… He didn’t want to think about all the things that could go wrong.

“I don’t want to know what he did to her,” he murmured finally, looking down at his hands and sighing. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll get it done.”

“I knew I could trust you with this,” Emily smiled, relief taking over her worried features. Spencer tried to return it, but it came out as a twitchy grimace instead.

He didn’t trust himself with this. He knew how it would end, with him losing the fight again, and blaming himself forever.

Might as well get it over with.

---------------------------

After a few hours of dancing and drinking, your feet were killing you and your head swam, so you piled Dani into a cab and sent her home, then got one for yourself. You didn’t use Uber, or anything that needed your location. Hell, you didn’t have social media or any apps on your phone except the alarm company and a contact list.

Even the contact list was minimal, only listing the numbers of Emily and your employees. It was safer that way, to keep limited contact with people and the world outside. You’d been turned off dating long ago because of Finn, mostly keeping to yourself and hiding away as much as you could with him still at large.

You paid the cabbie and waved him goodbye before heading toward your bookstore. The Cracked Spine was your pride and joy. You’d poured a lot of money, sweat, and time into making it a safe place for your patrons and employees, and your chest swelled with gratitude each time you laid eyes on it.

You had the cab drop you off down the street, paranoid tendencies taking over without any real thought. This stranger didn’t need to know where you lived.

It was a warm summer night, a soft breeze flowing through the streets as your heels clicked on the sidewalk. You held your clutch under your arm, your taser in your other hand as you instinctually watched the dimly lit street with your head held high.

Any confidence you had sank deep into your belly as you approached the stone steps. A familiar gold box laid in front of the double doors, tied with a big red bow. Under the red silk was the brand name, Christian Louboutin.

The blood rushed to your ears as you walked up, each step dragging you down mentally until you were wading through panic and fear.

You kneeled at the top step, reaching out and plucking the cream envelope from under the ribbon. Your name was written across the front in neat script, one you’d seen many times from Finn Doyle.

Hands shaking, you stood as you opened it and read the note inside, the paper stock heavy and expensive, the texture brushing against your skin. Sweat gathered under your arms as your chest heaved in the lamplight.

For your ever-growing collection.

A car door slammed behind you, and you let out a startled yelp as you dropped the note and turned, clutching the taser tightly in your palm.

Emily Prentiss stood next to her car, gazing up at you with resigned weariness, dressed in all black like she was going to your funeral. A man stood on the other side, hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers, looking too kind and soft in his cardigan to bring you any comfort as you pulsed with terror.

“Y/N,” she began solemnly, walking toward you, but you took a step away from her, kicking the shoe box with your heel. You jumped again, turning back to her with wide eyes as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

“He’s back,” you choked out, slapping a hand over your mouth and dropping to your knees as you burst into tears.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Notes: :D What did you think?

Taglist:

@rexorangecounty @nomajdetective @halloween-is-my-nationality @spenciesprincess @hoely-scripture @gspenc @princesssmooshie @loveeee2134 @reidslefteyebrow @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @hotchandspencearedilfs @barbietiingz @riverjane-d @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @simplyparker @thebloomingeagle @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @fangirling-galore @randomhoex @drspencerreid80 @kbakery @fortheloveofwonderland @athenabrown @yukachankyu @matthew-gray-gubler-lover

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Tits are amazing

Masterlist- oneshots

Summary: sy and his men are protective of the groups first bundle of joy and his mama and dont take to kindly to mom shaming in public.

Warnings: mentions of past domestic violence, angst, fluff, cheeky Sy, pregnancy, swearing, anxiety, feminism?, breast feeding, protective Sy, inaccurate biology?, mansplaining boobs, men being men, bit of a crack fic im just having some fun, threatening to shoot someone with a boob.

A/n: this was goingnto be somthing completely different. I ,ay have gone ptt with the back story but idc im pleased with hos this tirned out in the end.

You looked around nervously as you rocked your bundle in your arms trying to quiet down the tiny cries that were sure to draw attention if they got any louder. Fear ran throught you as you realised you were out of bottles and will have to do something youd tried to avoid at all costs.

You shuddered anxiously eyes flicking around you. It wouldnt be too bad you hoped. It wasnt that packed here, just a few regulars at the bar. Besides you were with a large group of huge muscle bound soldiers and theire girlfriends and wives. No one would be stupid enough to start somthing would they?

"Babe? Babe are you alright? Whats wrong with him? Another nappy change? Wind again? He is a windy little man want me to take him?" The deep voice from next to yoh hummed, your captains beard ticling your skin as he looked over your shoulder peering down at the fussy bundle you were cradling.

"I... no sy he... he is just hungry thats all" you said quietly looking to him with a small nervous smile. Your breath hitching like it did everytime you looked at him. He was a saint in your book. You wanst one to belive in divine intervention but when it came to him? Yeah you could call him your mirical or silver lining. He'd not only given you the life and love youd always craved but became a father to your son. Accepted a little boy that wasn't his own and protected him as any father would.

Youd been in a relationship with one of his men. It wasnt the best not because of the distance either, you knew what to expect you were a military brat yourself your own dad being in the special forces. But Josh had... issues. He drank when he was home, nothing too unusual most soldiers let loose when they came home and had one too many.

But he also suffered from mental health issues, night terrors mood swings bouts of anger and that coupled with the drink? Well lets just say it wasnt just his mood that started swinging. He'd hit you occasionally, slaps mainly, shoving and pushing somtimes a kick when you were down. The others had no idea and Josh made sure to keep it that way he could get into some deep shit with superiors if they found out, and you were too embarrassed to tell anyone. You made sure to come across as confident and tough, one of the lads when out with the others and their other halves. So you rolled with it like an idiot keeping quiet to protect him kidding yourself itd get better, it had to right?

Wrong. Dead wrong, the month long leave only left him with more time to drink, each binge worse then the last, each slap harder then the last. Though each time there was a get together he managed to be sober and his 'happy go lucky' self. But even then you were flinching at his every move. Then reality hit in the form of two tiny lines. Pregnant. Youd been both thrilled and devestated. You could not do this with him, no way could you stay with him when your so vulnerable.

So when he was out with the guys for another long celebration of someones birthday you decided to leave. You'd planned everything packed your bags and were loading them into the car when he was brought home by sy.

You remember the gut wrenching feeling, the fear as the captains big blue truck pulled into the drive behind you. Before you could even shut the trunk of the car josh was out of the truck thundering towards you drunk and absolutly steaming with embarassed anger.

Sy had followed quickly to try and talk his man down but he froze for a second watching as one of his best men- someone he trusted with his life began screaming at a defenceless woman before striking her as hard as he could, knocking her off her feet.

Youd screamed and quickly curled int a ball trying to protect your stomach at all costs and josh began to lay into you screaming about how he owned you and your going to regret embarassing him. All you did was shout begging him to stop because you were pregnant, hopeing itd calm him down but the news had to opposite affect and he lost it because you were 'stealing his baby'

Sy couldnt believe his eyes it was your admission to being pregant that snapped him out of it and sy pounced. He saw red and flew at Josh with a speed a man his size shouldn't be capable of. With a single nose crunching punch Josh was down and disoriented trying to get up. You quivered on the floor in shock sobbing trying to get up and scramble away only for your knees to quiver and give out. Sy managed to hoist you up quickly ushering you to sit in the passenger seat of his truck and gave you the keys telling you to lock it.

Sy beat the ever living shit out of Josh then and there knocking him unconsious within a few moments. Then pulled out his phone calling who you could only assume were his higher ups or the police explaining what happened. Then began grabbing your bags from your car walking to the bed of his truck placing them under the cover.

You moved quickly unlocking the truck and staggered out to find out what he was doing. Only to be stopped with a thick finger pointing at you to get back in the truck.

"No ma'am you get back in that truck, im getting you outta here, we're going to the medical bay on the barracks to get you checked over then you can stay with me. Nowhere will be safer i promise" he said walking to and from from your car collecting your things and securing them in the truck.

Sy kept his promise.He was on medical leave much to his distaste had an op on his back and shoulder, and was undergoing extensive physio therapy. Steroid injections, painkillers and rehabilitation to get movement back in his shoulder, he'd most likely need another op but they were trying to avoid that.

Even through his own problems he managed to look after you catering to your every need. You'd intended to stay long enough to get money for rent but as the weeks rolled into months you and sy hit it off before you knew it you were an item and leaving wasnt something either of you wanted but only time could tell. Josh wasnt to pleased, he came around more then once after his reprimand and few weeks in the barracks cells. But sy wouldnt let him near you whatsoever.

After youd informed sy you didnt want Josh to have anything to do with you or your baby the bear of a man had relayed the message and made it clear that Josh will have nothing to do with you or the baby. He also informed your ex that you were the captains girl now and he would 'force feed him every single one of his teeth' if Josh so much as looked in your direction again. The last you heard Josh had been deployed again.

Before you could really get your head around how things had changed you were at your own gender reveal with you and sy popping little blue party poppers with the rest of sy's team a few days before they were flying out again. It had been that moment sy had asked you what you wanted. You'd paused frowning not sure what he meant and then his hand drifted to your rounded tummy. 'Every boy needs a dad, i'd be honoured if ya stayed, let me raise the little tike with ya our own family it'd be nice having a proper wife and kid waiting for me back home' youd stood there frozen and in shock trying to process what sy had said. then once the penny dropped you instanly burst out crying nodding to him. You'd only been dating sy for three months but you'd known sy for well over a year. And you knew without a doubt that he would be an amazing dad to your son.

Your hormones had kicked up silly fears about the baby being a problem in the long run. But in that very moment you knew it never would be. Sy saw the little one as his own and that had only intensified as your pregnancy progressed, youd been introduced to his parents who had welcomed you with open arms and were excited for their first grandbaby despite knowing there was no blood relation.q

Sy was more then you could ever hope for in a partner. He held your hand through everything, every scan, every scare the first kick, craving to the final aches and pains. He even convinced Josh to sign away paternal rights before he left. Your not sure how, you didnt ask but you were greatful. Then the big day came, and sy was all over you like a bad rash, he couldnt do enough for you as you moved through the slow labour. Guarding the door when you waddled in and out of the loo as your waters trickled away. Calling the midwives back every hour on the hour to check your progress 'just incase they forgot' luckily the woman found it incredibly cute especially when everything they said was followed up with 'your sure?'

When it came time to push he had been a wreck, freaking out enough for the both of you to the point you'd offered him the gas and air between your contractions to chill him the fuck out. The daft bastard had been stupid enough to accept, muttering a small 'thanks babe' whilst stealing the pipe sucking on it like a straw only to get a slap upside the head when he forgot to hold your hand as another contraction came over you and you were pushing again. He quickly got the message when your hand wandered down to squeeze something else.

Then as the pain peeked it went and your son was born all seven pounds of him. Sy almost fell over as he saw the boy, the sight of tiny red baby being placed on your chest had reduced him to tears. He sobbed his heart out curling around the two of you the midwife had struggled to pull sy away from you both to cut the cord. She had to help him hold and cut because he couldnt see a damn thing through his tears.

Hours later you were being wheeled out of the hospital with Theodore Syverson. Thats right, Sy had given the boy his own name. The nurse had flicked her eyes to you in question clearly asking if that was okay given that they knew sy wasnt the actual father. But sy had waved her of 'dont be looking to check with her, she'll be shareing the name soon enough. Now ya want me to spell it out for ya?' He said casually making you flush and giggle nodding as the nurse quickly began writing the name as sy spelled it out for her.

All of this led you here. Sitting down for a meal at you local pub celebrating not only his mens safe return but sy's full recovery. And in six weeks he was returning to duty with them. Theo was now three weeks old and doing well, quickly growing into his features and so far looked nothing like his sperm doner thank god! All of sy's team had inspected the bundle with approving nods, cooing over their nephew, it was sweet watching these big burly mens men terrified of holding him but Theo was the first baby of the group, so you could let it slide.

Whilst the men were introduced to 'little man' the women inspected the rock on your new wedding ring. Sy didn’t mess around, you both decided you werent going to be one of those long engagement couples and had eloped as soon as you could walk without wincing. You may not have had a wedding night to speak of, but sy promised the wildest of night of your lifes once you recovered... or days? Pretty much when ever little Theo gave you a few solid hours alone.

Some may say yoh wernt truly married if you didnt have sex, but they were normally ths oneswho said only virgins wear white, you shouldn't live together or have a baby before your wedding either. So fuck them.

"Well feed him then" sy said a little cluelessly with a frown not understanding what the problem was. You sighed again and flicked your eyes around you once more.

"Yeah i will, excuse me" you said and began to stand ready to make your way into the toilets to feed the squirming hungry baby.

"Whoa bug? Where ya going?" Sy said placing his hands on your hips and tugged you to sit in his lap curling a thick arm around you and Theo. The others stopped and looked on wondering what was up.

"To the ladies room, i can sit with him in there and feed-" you began trying to explain softly beginning to flush as everyone watched you.

"What why? Just feed him out here" sy asked moving to place a soothing hand on Theos head calming him a little, the boy always settled for his father, some secret voodoo shit that sy could pull off and you hadn't quite figured out yet.

"Sy i... i didnt manage to pump enough bottles, he had his last one so i cant just feed him here"

"Why not we're all drinking aint we?never to young to start drinking with the team~" the others cheered raising their glasses laughing betweennthem. Sy grinned nodding to them and then turned to you eyeing you expectantly.

"I cant just flop a tit out. It could offend someone" you said slowly trying to explain the problem. You'd seen all sorts of embarassing stories online when you'd been readingnup on breast feeding. You were scared of being confronted.

"Fuck em. It wont do no harm, they'd soon complain if he sceamed the place down" sy said with a shrug and pressed a sweet kiss to your shoulder resting hos chin on it and peered down at his son.

"I should probably just..." you said tryongnto wriggle free from your husbands lap but he held strong keeping you right where you were.

"Im here babe, i wont let no one bug ya" he humed softly. His friends turned looking on with huge grins enjoying seeing their boisterous captain get all loved up with you. You met his gaze and instantly melted, relaxing into his lap and smiled before giving him a tiny nod. Ou trusted him to protect you, and it made his heart soar. His eyes flicked to the men watchingnhim casually so he was quicl to smirk at you and then shrugged to before speaking.

"Besides the only tit they're gonna see is that little hat i got 'im"

"Oh god sy no" you moaned watchingnhimwriggle his brows and hoist up the diaperbag to the bench seat next to him. You frowned praying he hadn't packed the hat again, youd removed it four times before you left!

"Sy yes, here guys check this out~" sy said laughing as his hand doved int to diaper bag to pull out the crochet tit beanie hat complete with protruding dusty pink nipple on the top. You shrunk as your man held it up for the others to see. They was a moment of silence before they all burst out laughing with cries of 'put it on him'. Sy chuckled quickly moved plucking the cute little teddy bear beanie and replacing it with the novelty hat tugging the nipple to the crown of your poor sons head.

The table came to life, roaring with laughter at your unsuspecting little Theo who wriggled about in your arms looking like a tit. Litterally.

"Sy its cruel, stop laughting at him" you chided but didn't make a move to take the hat form Theo's head it was a little funny. Poor little bugger.

"Its funny babe, i cant help it. Go on just feed him no one here minds" you sighed looking down at Theo whose mouth was open head moving from left to right as he searched your his dinner.

You gulped and moved tugging your top down. Sys hand shot out covering you from the others as your maternity bra was unclipped and you held Theo closer. Within seconds the whinning stopped and he was feeing greedily.

You sighed relaxing somewhat as the aching began to sooth. Sy kept a hand on your chest above your othef breast soothing you.

"Lucky little bugger, aint ya? Hmm you dont even know how lucky you are, your mama almost tore my head off last night for trying to get a sneaky mouth full of tit~ and here you are in broad daylight have a cheeky nibble" Sy said moving down pressing a quick kiss onto his sons head. You tutted turning to give the man a stern look as the others all chuckled into their beers trying not to catch your eye now that you had the 'mom glare' sy just smirked winking and blowing you a kiss. You growled rolling your eyes and looked back down to Theo whos tiny fist had come up beside his face resting on your boob sweetly rubbing his own cheek.

"What? Its true" Sy defended with a shit eating grin. Referring to the way youd almost yanked his geard off his face when he'd dived for you tender boobs last night mouth wide open. Youd not meant to tug soo hard. Youd panicked thinking he was going to bite the swollen mound, then panicked even more when the thought of accidentally squirting milk at him crossed your mind.

"Theyre sore i dont want you playing with em" you offered weakly trying to justify your recent boob privilege withdrawl.

"I can soothe em if ya let me~" sy hummed before making you giggle flushing when he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck.

"Not a chance cap." You mused managingnto curl an arm aroundmyou and Theo pressing sy away.

"Why not? Come on babe share i neeed them"

"No Theo needs them. you just wana get all kinky and stick your dick between them"

"Can ya blame me? Look at those puppies!" Sy said chuckling making you flush a deeper red and shake your head as the others laughed once more.

Then a hush fell over the table as a stern older man approached the table. You could practically smell the self righteousness on him wafting across the few feet that seperated you.

"Hi er excuse me? Sorry to intterupt. Hello i was wondering if you could tell your ladyy freind to cover herself, im here with my granddaughter and she doesnt need to see that" suddenly you felt as if the entire world had just collapsed around you and quickly looked down ashamed, shrinking into sy before quickly sheilding Theo.

"Oh my god im so sorry I didnt mean to make you-" your voice cracked as humiliation washed over you; you wanted to cry you could alredy feel the tears welling. Just as quickly as youd relaxed you were ready to blot again, you tried to break free from sy. But your bear was having none of it instead he held you closer and cut your unnecessary apology with a deep threatening voice.

"And by that you mean the perfeclty natural sight of my wifes incredible body providing a healthy balanced meal for my newborn son?" Sy asked straight up, no messing around. No beating around the bush. You didnt get the feeling he was genuinely asking, it felt more like he wanted to clarify before deleting the fools life subscription.

"Besides your granddaughters old enough to know what my wifes doing, shes what seventeen? Shes got a pair herself" Terry said nodding to the teenager that looked around sixteen. You looked to the posturing male a few seats down smileing greatfully as the man backed you up pretty quick crossing his arms making his ams buldge in the tight tshirt.

"Thats not the point, your wife has her boob out, its indecent!" The man tried again, once again bypassing you and speaking to your husband because your husband owned you and could order you about apparently.

"Whats indecent it you tryn'a shame a mother feeding her kid fuck wad" Mikey the youngest addition to Sy's unit piped up with a severe look. At twenty three he still had a cute puppy look about him. He always wseemed happy and eager, this was the first time you'd seen him scowl. It was unsettling.

"Its offensive seeing a breast out in public" the man argued not getting the message that these men can and will rip him a new one if it came to that. God you hoped it didnt come to that, they'd muller him.

"Your fucking face is offensive but im not leaning over your table bitching at you" martin snarled slamming hos beer down seething. Theo jumped at the sound whining as he continued to nurse. You quickly soothed him rubbing his back cooing softly cpaming both you and your son.

"And coming over here to demand i order my wife to do somthing, the fuck are you from?" Sy's low gravely tone rumbled through you as his hand moved across your thigh, drawing slow patterns on your denim covered leg keeping you calm.

"Yeah the fifties called they want their misogynistic sexism back" Terry huffed drawing a laugh from the others. The man sneered and made to reply but was interuppted by Mikey again.

"What kind of man dont enjoy a bit of free side boob?" He pondered making the others chuckle again. He sent you a quick look smiling, clearly tryingnto check in and make sure you didnt mind the joke. You gave a tiny nervous smile back which made him relax, just in time to hear Timmy's imput on the subject.

"I'd have thought a man your age would thank his lucky stars seeing a little side boob i mean come on man as far as side boobs go that is a fine titty- sorry cap" Timmy piped up, wavingnhis beer in the mans direction. the man stood at the table quickly growing flustered. But the others didnt care, it would seem the guys were going to make fun of this man untill he walked away. Which was fine by you, youd rather the, bully him away rather then beat him up, which was entirely possible.

"None taken, but watch yourself there Timmy thats my wife your talking about" Sy grumbled with anskmirk still staring donw the man who hovered slowly becoming enraged as the others co tinued to laugh at him.

"Sorry captain, sorry Mrs Sy" you grinned at Timmy with a small nod letting him know you hadn't taken offence. How could you? He said you have nice side boob.

"Old geezers propbly worried he'd have a heart attack if he got a glimps of decent tit when our little dude if finished." Your quiet giggle was drowned out by the table erupting into loud gruff laughter, some of the guys slapping the table. comments of 'I can think of worse ways to go' were follower by cheeres of 'here here' and the clinking of beer glasses.

You sat still looking back down to your son tears welling in your eyes. It was humbling to learn that Sy's team would stand up for you with something like this. Despite being friends with them all duringnyour previous relationship you'd worried they would reject you after the whole Josh thing. You thought they would think you baby trapped Sy, that they thought ill of you and Theo. But you were wrong. So soo wrong, they had your back. They were family just like Sy had said.

Sy felt the way yoh trembled and held yoh closer pressing a lare hand to your tummy and kissed your neck. He knew, he didnt have to see the tears to know you finally realised those silly fears were just that. Silly. You moved your hand to Theos cheek, rocking him frome side to side as he continued to nurse. He wont be feedjng much longer, probably drift off to sleep soon.

"Shes got her whole breast out!" The man seethed placingnhis hands on his hips still heckljng you. You hand it to him he was brave to still stand there and bitch when you clearly had more back up then he was capble of handling.

"But its mostly covered ya know by the baby shes feedin'" Sy growled beginning to loose his own temper.

"I saw a nipple-"

"No no man, thats just a cool hat" mikey interrupted quickly senseing that Sy was running out of patience and would start swinging if they didnt do something.

"Dude crazy gone so long with out proper tiddy he thinks its real" Terry added clapping his hands whilst eyeing Sy carefully. Sy's lips quirked but nothing more. It wasnt looking good for grandpa.

"Poor sod, heres five bucks go to the strip joint on third, and treat yourself ask fo chanel hers are real swear to god" Timmy said sliding a few dolla bills across the table to th old man. Sy did release a gruff chuckle at that. Especially when the man flushed bright red at the thought of going to one of those clubs.

"I'd just feel more comfortable if she didnt do that here" this bloke just didnt know when to quit. But luckily Sy was of a mind to shut him down.

"Look fuck off man shes feeding my kid not grinding the table or fucking moterboating someone! Leave her be" you couldnt help feeling that was the final warning this old coot was goingnto get, you prayed he was goingnto take the hint and leave because god knows what your husbands next move was going to be. But alas the man didnt seem to have and self awareness, or self preservation instinct as he tried again.

"But im-" Sy cut the man off with a low growl finally snapping, all mirth gone from his face his hand that had been tracing patterns on your tummy snapped up and encompassed your unoccupied breast.

Before you could even yelp in suprize your husband was holding it gently pointing the covered globe threatningly at the old man who'd disturbed your nice get together.

"I'm warning you now asshole, shes got two loaded mama super soakers and if you dont walk away right now imma fucking take this one out its holster and fire number two. Considering Im a special forces captain of the fucking military whose a pro with a fucking sniper I'm betting my aims pretty good. So the chances of me hitting you right in your fucking sleazy eyeball and blinding your old wrinkled ass with tit milk are good. So I suggest you go and sit down drink your stupid girly mojito or what ever the hell that prissy drink is and leave my wife alone. Because if I do have to shoot you with a tit I'm be following it with a punch for peeking at my wife like a peeping tom. Now whats it gonna be?" You froze gaping as you tried to get your head around what Sy had just threatened someone with.

Sy held steady hand still aiming your boob in the assholes direction. He stuttered and teetered on his feet. Turning to look back at his granddaughter, then back at Sy almost trying to weigh up if your husband was serious. Sy must have looked deadly serious because after a few more seconds the man was turning tail and scuttling away from the table.

"Yeah thats what I thought grandpa keep on walking" Sy growled slowly releasing the hold he had on your weapon of mass soaking. Leaving it with a small pat before lettingnhis hand glide over you restingnin your lap again, his other hand picking up his beer taking a deep drink.

"Did... did you just threaten to shoot him with my tit?" You asked confused as to what the fuck just happened. You know what you felt and what you heard but it just wasnt computing. You just couldn't wrap your head around it.

"Yeah sort of" he shrugged scratching his beard, a nervous tick he had when he thought you were mad at him. You wanst mad, you foundmit all a bit surreal and funny.

"You do know thats assault" you mused saying the first thing that came to your mind. Becuase for the life of you; you just didnt know what to say, this wasnt in the pregnancy books- no where did you read an article of 'what to do if your husband holds a karen/keith at tit point' you were a little out of your depth with this one.

"Really?" He asked leaning around you confused nose scrunched up and brows furrowed cutely.

"Yes sy" he paused for a second thinking before lighting up and grinning a lopsided grin.

"Wait does it really spurt out? Like a little water gun, I was just bluffing I didnt know if it can or not" he said excited by the new information. Sy had a thing about learning new things about your body during the pregnancy, he had one of those apps that told him everything that was going on week by week, he still had it now telling him all about Thoes development.

" well yeah i mean not all the time but its happened once or twice a littl psst acros the kitchen- but wait that is notthe point! you can't just squeeze aim and fire my milk at people!" Your stammering reply quickly became a stern scolding. But it went in one ear and out the other as Sy beamed tuckingnhis face into your neck pressing kisses and laughing.

"Fuck me so you got a couple of milk guns on your chest? That is amazing babe im definitely squeezing these triggers tonight... do they like build up pressure?" He carried on now fascinated by the prospect of 'milk guns' you rilled your ees as his mind seem to fixate of your boobs and not the fact that he had almost used one to assault someone.

"What? Like a a pump action rifle or somthing? No well kinda? I dont bloody know sy! And your not playing with them, they're not toys" you asked frowning before turning it around

"You know whilst we are on the topic of boobs i was err- i always wondered when your, well you know feeding do you leak everytime your bra's off cos of the hole?"

"Im sorry Mikey but what the actual fuck?" You were gobsmacked. How did these men survive out in the warzones when they couldnt even grasp si,ple biology. It was scarey to think that Mikey was capble of making kids. Becasue he really shouldn't.

"You know the hole or does the bra sort of patch it." Mikey elaborated with a flush and shrugged peering into his drink trying to avoid eye contact. But you noticed none of the men were laughing, in fact they all seemed to be waiting for an answer. It was only the woman who were giggling behind their hands. You turned lookingnto Sy amazed that he hadnt already corrected Mikey, he took you loom as a signal to explain.

"Yeah its like a puncture on a tire, slap something over it and it stops. Isnt that rigt babe?" Out of everythingnyou anticipated coming out of your husbands mouth that had not been it. You frowned at him confused. What the fuck? Didnt he know? All that research for the pregnancy and birth and he hadnt come across the mechanics of breastfeeding.

"Jesus christ, no! No my body just... leaks occasionally, normally when it knows he's hungry and even more when hes nurseing" you said still shocked from the ignorance of the men. You knew men wernt experts ofn this sort of thin but you'd expected more.

"Oh well fuck me thats even more awsome! Tits are fucking great, they know when im horny, they know when he's hungry, they feed him and make him happy, they jiggle and make me happy. Hell can they do other cool shit to?" You slumped rolling your eyes as he once again too, what you said out of context, probably becuase hes a man. A man that cant think straight when it comes to boob, specifically yours.

"They do not know when your horny Sy! Shut up" you flushed quickly realiseing this topic was going down hill fast.

"Sure they do, I get a stiffy then they do too!" He anouced like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was scientific fact your boobs were connected to his cock.

"Oh my god sy stop! Thats not- its not you" you huffed at him embarassed qwilling him to just drop it, but he wont. He was stubborn, bu this point yohwasnt sure if he was just teasing or not, surely he knew your nipples got hard because you were turned on, not because he had a stiffy and let off pheromones or something.

"Course it is, i mean it cant be a coincidence" nope. He was serious, dead serious. You would have laughed had you not been so shocked.

"Its ugh god, guys explain to the man will you" you tried gettingnyourself out of the hot seat. But the men just blinked looking to one another then Timmy looked back to yoh with a shrug.

" err... we dont know either"

"I never even noticed but now you mention it..." Mikey said under his breath wincing, the boy was thinking too hard again.

"Seriously? You seriously dont know? It happens when we women get ya'know horny" you finally explained to the group. Out of everything you thought was gojngnto happen today teaching biology to a group of fully grown soldiers was not one of them.

"Oh. Tits are amazing~" the Silence that fell over the table was broken by Terry with a loud cry.

"To tits!" Terry praised lifting his glass, the others followed suit raiseing their own drinks in a toast to boobs. You shrunk into sy shakjngnyour head. They were a bunch of dumbasses, handsome burly gruff dumbasses. The idle chatter then began again makingnyou melt into Sy.

"Thats really is a cool hat tho" someone said over the table, you didnt know who as you'd turned to Thoe who was now fast asleep. You grinned smoothing a hand over his back glad he was finally settled enough to have a nap.

"Yeah i know right, thinking i might get me'self one" Sy answered grinning l pinching the small woolen nipple still protruding from your sons head with a chuckle.

"Fuck yeah lets all get tit hats!"

"How much are they?"

"Hang on let me check" sy said, and just like that he was picking up his phone to search where he'd got the little boob beanie checking to see if he could get them in adult sizes.

"Oh fuck me" you muttered under your breath, you knew without a doubt Sy was goingnto find and buy him and his team boob hats. Its just how he was.

"Sorry love fuck request denied we got another ten days, twelve hours, fourteen mineuts and six seconds to go atleast, before the doc says i can take you to pound town" sy grunted into your ear nipping at it harshly makingnyou flush and pout, quickly shutting up because anythingnyou say will make it worse. The others smirked at their captains teasing, it was about time Sy had his own family to fawn over, and they were greatful it was you their captain had chosen to stick with.

#henry cavill #captain sy x reader #captain syverson #captain sy x y/n #cpt syverson #syverson fluff #syverson imagine #oh for fic sake imagine

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puttingherinhistory · 3 years

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“Covid has unleashed the most severe setback to women’s liberation in my lifetime. While watching this happen, I have started to think we are witnessing an outbreak of disaster patriarchy.

Naomi Klein was the first to identify “disaster capitalism”, when capitalists use a disaster to impose measures they couldn’t possibly get away with in normal times, generating more profit for themselves. Disaster patriarchy is a parallel and complementary process, where men exploit a crisis to reassert control and dominance, and rapidly erase hard-earned women’s rights. (The term “racialized disaster patriarchy” was used by Rachel E Luft in writing about an intersectional model for understanding disaster 10 years after Hurricane Katrina.) All over the world, patriarchy has taken full advantage of the virus to reclaim power – on the one hand, escalating the danger and violence to women, and on the other, stepping in as their supposed controller and protector.

I have spent months interviewing activists and grassroots leaders around the world, from Kenya to France to India, to find out how this process is affecting them, and how they are fighting back. In very different contexts, five key factors come up again and again. In disaster patriarchy, women lose their safety, their economic power, their autonomy, their education, and they are pushed on to the frontlines, unprotected, to be sacrificed.

Part of me hesitates to use the word “patriarchy”, because some people feel confused by it, and others feel it’s archaic. I have tried to imagine a newer, more contemporary phrase for it, but I have watched how we keep changing language, updating and modernising our descriptions in an attempt to meet the horror of the moment. I think, for example, of all the names we have given to the act of women being beaten by their partner. First, it was battery, then domestic violence, then intimate partner violence, and most recently intimate terrorism. We are forever doing the painstaking work of refining and illuminating, rather than insisting the patriarchs work harder to deepen their understanding of a system that is eviscerating the planet. So, I’m sticking with the word.

In this devastating time of Covid we have seen an explosion of violence towards women, whether they are cisgender or gender-diverse. Intimate terrorism in lockdown has turned the home into a kind of torture chamber for millions of women. We have seen the spread of revenge porn as lockdown has pushed the world online; such digital sexual abuse is now central to domestic violence as intimate partners threaten to share sexually explicit images without victims’ consent.

The conditions of lockdown – confinement, economic insecurity, fear of illness, excess of alcohol – were a perfect storm for abuse. It is hard to determine what is more disturbing: the fact that in 2021 thousands of men still feel willing and entitled to control, torture and beat their wives, girlfriends and children, or that no government appears to have thought about this in their planning for lockdown.

In Peru, hundreds of women and girls have gone missing since lockdown was imposed, and are feared dead. According to official figures reported by Al Jazeera, 606 girls and 309 women went missing between 16 March and 30 June last year. Worldwide, the closure of schools has increased the likelihood of various forms of violence. The US Rape Abuse and Incest National Network says its helpline for survivors of sexual assault has never been in such demand in its 26-year history, as children are locked in with abusers with no ability to alert their teachers or friends. In Italy, calls to the national anti-violence toll-free number increased by 73% between 1 March and 16 April 2020, according to the activist Luisa Rizzitelli. In Mexico, emergency call handlers received the highest number of calls in the country’s history, and the number of women who sought domestic violence shelters quadrupled.

To add outrage to outrage, many governments reduced funding for these shelters at the exact moment they were most needed. This seems to be true throughout Europe. In the UK, providers told Human Rights Watch that the Covid-19 crisis has exacerbated a lack of access to services for migrant and Black, Asian and minority ethnic women. The organisations working with these communities say that persistent inequality leads to additional difficulties in accessing services such as education, healthcare and disaster relief remotely.

In the US, more than 5 million women’s jobs were lost between the start of the pandemic and November 2020. Because much of women’s work requires physical contact with the public – restaurants, stores, childcare, healthcare settings – theirs were some of the first to go. Those who were able to keep their jobs were often frontline workers whose positions have put them in great danger; some 77% of hospital workers and 74% percent of school staff are women. Even then, the lack of childcare options left many women unable to return to their jobs. Having children does not have this effect for men. The rate of unemployment for Black and Latina women was higher before the virus, and now it is even worse.

The situation is more severe for women in other parts of the world. Shabnam Hashmi, a leading women’s activist from India, tells me that by April 2020 a staggering 39.5% of women there had lost their jobs. “Work from home is very taxing on women as their personal space has disappeared, and workload increased threefold,” Hashmi says. In Italy, existing inequalities have been amplified by the health emergency. Rizzitelli points out that women already face lower employment, poorer salaries and more precarious contracts, and are rarely employed in “safe” corporate roles; they have been the first to suffer the effects of the crisis. “Pre-existing economic, social, racial and gender inequalities have been accentuated, and all of this risks having longer-term consequences than the virus itself,” Rizzitelli says.

When women are put under greater financial pressure, their rights rapidly erode. With the economic crisis created by Covid, sex- and labour-trafficking are again on the rise. Young women who struggle to pay their rent are being preyed on by landlords, in a process known as “sextortion”.

I don’t think we can overstate the level of exhaustion, anxiety and fear that women are suffering from taking care of families, with no break or time for themselves. It’s a subtle form of madness. As women take care of the sick, the needy and the dying, who takes care of them? Colani Hlatjwako, an activist leader from the Kingdom of Eswatini, sums it up: “Social norms that put a heavy caregiving burden on women and girls remain likely to make their physical and mental health suffer.” These structures also impede access to education, damage livelihoods, and strip away sources of support.

Unesco estimates that upward of 11 million girls may not return to school once the Covid pandemic subsides. The Malala Fund estimates an even bigger number: 20 million. Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, from UN Women, says her organisation has been fighting for girls’ education since the Beijing UN women’s summit in 1995. “Girls make up the majority of the schoolchildren who are not going back,” she says. “We had been making progress – not perfect, but we were keeping them at school for longer. And now, to have these girls just dropping out in one year, is quite devastating.”

Of all these setbacks, this will be the most significant. When girls are educated, they know their rights, and what to demand. They have the possibility of getting jobs and taking care of their families. When they can’t access education, they become a financial strain to their families and are often forced into early marriages.

This has particular implications for female genital mutilation (FGM). Often, fathers will accept not subjecting their daughters to this process because their daughters can become breadwinners through being educated. If there is no education, then the traditional practices resume, so that daughters can be sold for dowries. As Agnes Pareyio, chairwoman of the Kenyan Anti-Female Genital Mutilation Board, tells me: “Covid closed our schools and brought our girls back home. No one knew what was going on in the houses. We know that if you educate a girl, FGM will not happen. And now, sadly the reverse is true.”

In the early months of the pandemic, I had a front-row seat to the situation of nurses in the US, most of whom are women. I worked with National Nurses United, the biggest and most radical nurses’ union, and interviewed many nurses working on the frontline. I watched as for months they worked gruelling 12-hour shifts filled with agonising choices and trauma, acting as midwives to death. On their short lunch breaks, they had to protest over their own lack of personal protective equipment, which put them in even greater danger. In the same way that no one thought what it would mean to lock women and children in houses with abusers, no one thought what it would be like to send nurses into an extremely contagious pandemic without proper PPE. In some US hospitals, nurses were wearing garbage bags instead of gowns, and reusing single-use masks many times. They were being forced to stay on the job even if they had fevers.

The treatment of nurses who were risking their lives to save ours was a shocking kind of violence and disrespect. But there are many other areas of work where women have been left unprotected, from the warehouse workers who are packing and shipping our goods, to women who work in poultry and meat plants who are crammed together in dangerous proximity and forced to stay on the job even when they are sick. One of the more stunning developments has been with “tipped” restaurant workers in the US, already allowed to be paid the shockingly low wage of $2.13 (£1.50) an hour, which has remained the same for the past 22 years. Not only has work declined, tips have also declined greatly for those women, and now a new degradation called “maskular harassment” has emerged, where male customers insist waitresses take off their masks so they can determine if and how much to tip them based on their looks.

Women farm workers in the US have seen their protections diminished while no one was looking. Mily Treviño-Sauceda, executive director of Alianza Nacional de Campesinas, tells me how pressures have increased on campesinas, or female farm workers: “There have been more incidents of pesticides poisonings, sexual abuse and heat stress issues, and there is less monitoring from governmental agencies or law enforcement due to Covid-19.”

Covid has revealed the fact that we live with two incompatible ideas when it comes to women. The first is that women are essential to every aspect of life and our survival as a species. The second is that women can easily be violated, sacrificed and erased. This is the duality that patriarchy has slashed into the fabric of existence, and that Covid has laid bare. If we are to continue as a species, this contradiction needs to be healed and made whole.

To be clear, the problem is not the lockdowns, but what the lockdowns, and the pandemic that required them, have made clear. Covid has revealed that patriarchy is alive and well; that it will reassert itself in times of crisis because it has never been truly deconstructed, and like an untreated virus it will return with a vengeance when the conditions are ripe.

The truth is that unless the culture changes, unless patriarchy is dismantled, we will forever be spinning our wheels. Coming out of Covid, we need to be bold, daring, outrageous and to imagine a more radical way of existing on the Earth. We need to continue to build and spread activist movements. We need progressive grassroots women and women of colour in positions of power. We need a global initiative on the scale of a Marshall Plan or larger, to deconstruct and exorcise patriarchy – which is the root of so many other forms of oppression, from imperialism to racism, from transphobia to the denigration of the Earth.

There would first be a public acknowledgment, and education, about the nature of patriarchy and an understanding that it is driving us to our end. There would be ongoing education, public forums and processes studying how patriarchy leads to various forms of oppression. Art would help expunge trauma, grief, aggression, sorrow and anger in the culture and help heal and make people whole. We would understand that a culture that has diabolical amnesia and refuses to address its past can only repeat its misfortunes and abuses. Community and religious centres would help members deal with trauma. We would study the high arts of listening and empathy. Reparations and apologies would be done in public forums and in private meetings. Learning the art of apology would be as important as prayer.

The feminist author Gerda Lerner wrote in 1986: “The system of patriarchy in a historic construct has a beginning and it will have an end. Its time seems to have nearly run its course. It no longer serves the needs of men and women, and its intractable linkage to militarism, hierarchy and racism has threatened the very existence of life on Earth.”

As powerful as patriarchy is, it’s just a story. As the post-pandemic era unfolds, can we imagine another system, one that is not based on hierarchy, violence, domination, colonialisation and occupation? Do we see the connection between the devaluing, harming and oppression of all women and the destruction of the Earth itself? What if we lived as if we were kin? What if we treated each person as sacred and essential to the unfolding story of humanity?

What if rather than exploiting, dominating and hurting women and girls during a crisis, we designed a world that valued them, educated them, paid them, listened to them, cared for them and centred them?“

#women #coronavirus #life and style #world news #inequality #Covid 19 #COVID-19 #feminism #womanism #gender inequality #gender equality #corona virus

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sinswithpleasure · 3 years

Text

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA’s Yves) [Part 3] [Female Reader]

—————

I’m back with part 3!

I know I said I’d start mentioning Yves being futa here, but welp, I doubt it’d be out until Part 6-8?

If you prefer, this is also on AO3 and AFF!

Thanks to @existslikepristin and @ggidolsmuts for editing / beta reading!

—————

Another month passes.

Yves has been improving a lot, and you're teaching her more than just math. Even on weekends, she requests tutoring, and both of you work on projects or study together, be it at Seoul U's cafe or in empty classrooms.

Two months since you began tutoring her, about one month since you took up her deal. Something in Yves shifts—when she began studying, it was out of just competitive spirit. Now, she seems to truly like what she's doing, and you can't help but to let yourself enjoy the sight of this Yves. She turns up to school a little more regularly, though she still comes to terrorize people. She doesn't go out to parties as much, choosing instead to hang with you. The attention you get from her feels like too much and not enough at the same time.

Other than being your student, Yves becomes somewhat of a regular fixture in your life. She still frustrates you—her semi-regular absences from school are met with your nagging and her regular dismissal, her constant nonchalance about how she carries herself still annoys you, and she still constantly flirts with you. That last point is also part of the reason why she is kind of a welcome presence in your life. If she isn't present in school, she will be seen leaning against a wall after class, leather jacket over her shoulders, your favourite mocha frappe in her hands. If she doesn't turn up for a tutoring session, she drops a call and apologizes, then makes it up to you with your favourite dessert next session. On the regular, she always has a compliment or a greasy remark tailored for you on hand, both making you groan and internally panic simultaneously.

It doesn't help that she keeps getting prettier, at least to you. Every day, her empty desk taunts you. Sometimes, you wish she was next to you, lollipop in her mouth, gazing at you and flirting with you. Your heart skips a beat when she pushes herself off the wall to wrap an arm around your shoulder, waving the frappe in front of your face with a "Hey, babygirl" . You look forward to the text exchanges with her every night, where both of you can text for hours. You adore her lip bites when she is focused on something, her soft "Assa!" when she gets something right.

Perhaps your crush on her is starting to get out of hand, but you don't want it to end.

-----

Your phone rings. Caller ID: yves 💘

"Yo, babygirl."

"Don't—ah, nevermind."

"The cafe's closed today. Wanna come over to my place?"

"What?"

"My place. Come over."

"Oh, um…"

"Text me your address. I'll pick you up."

"Okay."

When Yves hangs up, you panic. Her place? You'll get to see how she lives? Her private space? What?! You fire off a text to Yves, then you carry on panicking.

[yves💘 has sent a message:]

Gotchu

I'll see you in 15, babygirl

Can't wait ;)

-----

Yves's place is cozy. For someone so punk rock, her place looks so homely, so full of life. However, Yves lives alone. Weird, considering there's a lot of stuff that is placed neatly on tables and shelves, too much for one person to use.

"Welcome to my humble abode, babygirl." Yves curtsies, flashing you her dazzling smile. You place your bag down on the couch in her living room, rummaging to find what you need.

"Hey, would you mind if I went for a shower first? I've had a busy morning."

"Oh, no, sure. Go ahead."

"Right, thanks babe."

Yves leaves. In the meantime, you wander around her living room, glancing at the items on her shelves. A vintage tea set, a back scratcher, and an old camera? Those look pretty cool. Beneath that, another shelf holds a few old DVD cases, each of some old music from the 70s and 80s. Also, are those cassette tapes? You pick each one up, getting a feel of them in your hands. Damn, these are cool.

You wander along the hallways. When you pass by the bathroom, you can hear the water running. Suddenly, you’re hit with intrusive thoughts, all of them about Yves.

Your crush. Just a handful of metres away from you. Undressing. Naked. Under the shower. Water running down her bare skin, maybe over those chiseled abs of hers? Her naked chest, her legs?

You return to her couch, collapsing on it, trying to fight the dirtier thoughts in your head.

You sink your face in your hands, groaning at the thought of a naked Yves. This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last, but it sucks to be thinking of something inappropriate when the time isn't right. The gulps of water you inhale don't quench the correct thirst, but at least it does something.

"Hey baby."

Yves's voice makes you jump. The cutest girl ever greets your eyes, with a look that you never thought she'd rock. That same girl has her head bowed, a sheepish smile on her face, her hand moving to tuck some hair behind her ear.

She looks gorgeous.

Her wet hair, formerly slicked back, now falls over her forehead, forming cute bangs. Her leather jackets and crop tops are traded for a cozy oversized long-sleeved sweater that engulfs her body, giving her sweater paws. Yves pairs that with sweatpants, and a cute pair of bunny slippers.

She looks so cute and all you want to do is to mash her lips with yours.

You gasp, freezing. Yves walks over to you, planting her books on the table, refusing to meet your eyes. She grins when she finally looks at you though.

"How do I look?"

"Ah, um, er…" You stammer, unable to process the sight of the punk rock, cool, bad girl Yves now looking like a girly, adorable cutie. This wasn't Yves, this was just Ha Sooyoung.

"You… you look, er, good," you breathe.

Yves halts, red starting to colour her ears. She looks away, seemingly wiping at her face with one of her sleeves.

"Thank you." Her voice is tiny, tinier than usual. You want to hug her but you control yourself, settling to admire how she looks instead. She looks so pretty, so fucking pretty, and you wonder why she doesn't look like this on the regular. Maybe she's letting you see her more private, intimate side. Maybe she somehow found out you quite like this style. Whatever the reason is, it's working. How do you even continue to function today, now that you've seen Yves look like this?

You love this Yves— no, this is Ha Sooyoung, you hastily remind yourself. She looks so domestic, so cute, so… girlfriend? You want to glomp her, and that urge is increasingly hard to control.

"Let's begin."

"O-Okay."

Both of you slip into your roles as teacher and student. For Yves, it’s seamless, but for you, you struggle to do so. The student herself is a distraction.

The session begins.

-----

"Stay for dinner, babe?"

Yves rises from her chair, walking over to her kitchen. She begins pulling stuff out of her fridge and cabinets, setting them on the table.

"Oh, sure."

You sink yourself on a dining chair as Yves ties an apron around her neck. She begins work on chopping up some garlic and onions, and you let yourself just… look at her.

She looks so cool, so domestic, so beautiful as she works on whatever it is. You can't help but fall harder for her, and you let yourself gaze lovingly stare at her.

"You're staring, babygirl."

"Ummfhhhdgh!" You stammer, hastily looking away to pretend you weren't. You drum your fingers on the table, shifting around on your seat to distract yourself from Yves's eyes.

"Uh-uh, you don't get to hide now." Yves tilts your chin up with her finger, her eyes locked onto yours, her lips inches from yours. This is the umpteenth time Yves has had you in kissing range, and you wish she'd finish the job.

"You look starstruck, babe. Am I that pretty?"

"Y-Yes."

Yves chuckles, stroking your cheek with her thumb.

"God, you're so cute. I'd kiss you right now, but we both know we'd do more than that."

"Wha—?"

"I've seen the way you look at me. I know what you're thinking. If we kiss…" Yves trails off, moving to finish her sentence next to your ear.

"If we kiss, we both know we won't just be kissing at the end of the night."

When Yves finishes her sentence, you feel her soft lips press against your cheek. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her lips turn up in her signature cocky smirk. You’ve got the urge to kiss it off her face, but you pause, refusing to give in to her. She is right—if you kissed her, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from jumping her.

-----

Dinner is a relatively quiet affair, with Yves winking at you when you catch eyes with her, and you becoming more flustered each time. All you can think of is about how Yves essentially admitted she knows you want her as much as she wants you, and that thought is enough to fuel your imagination for the night.

When Yves drops you off in front of your apartment, she gets off her bike, wrapping her arms around your waist from the back.

"Huh?!"

"Goodnight babygirl," Yves whispers next to your ear, her breath causing you to shudder, "I'll be thinking of you tonight."

That settles it. The fire between your legs needs some dousing. You can't help but turn to look at Yves with the utmost shock, meeting her knowing grin. Yves waves, putting her helmet back on and riding off into the night.

-----

The cold shower you take after reaching home does nothing for you. Yves's words still ring deep in your ear.

If we kiss, we both know we won't just be kissing at the end of the night.

I'll be thinking of you tonight.

Your body feels warm—too warm for the oversized T-shirt and boyshorts you have on. The thought of having Yves pin you against a wall, her lips on yours, tongue swiping at your lips to gain access is way too much for you, and soon enough, you imagine Yves pinning you to her bed, stripping you and teasing you with her touch. These thoughts lead you to lie atop your bed, your shirt pulled up to expose your chest, your boyshorts stripped off to let your hand circle your clit freely.

"Oh, fuck…"

In your head, Yves has her fingers on you, touching you the same way you touch yourself now. Her fingers mirror the way yours do—rubbing directly over the hood covering your clit, before swiping between your slit to wet her fingers.

"So wet, babygirl. All for me too."

"Oh, oh shit!"

Yves plunges her fingers deep within you, thrusting freely. Your free hand kneads your left breast, teasing your nipple to drive you crazier.

"Fuck, Yves, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Yes, babygirl. That's what I want to hear. Moan my name. Let the world know how wet you are for me."

The dirty sounds of your fingers thrusting deep into yourself only fuels your lust even further. The image in your head morphs from Yves fingering you to her between your legs, her panties pushed aside to expose her pussy. Yves pushes her pussy against yours, grinding against you, flexing her abs with each movement of her hips. In the physical world, you strip yourself of the shirt, grabbing a pillow and straddling it.

"How does my pussy feel against yours, babygirl? I told you I'd make you love me."

You grind harshly on the pillow. The haze of pleasure is all you can process—how loud you moan doesn't matter anymore.

"Fuck, yes, Yves, Yves, Yves, fuck, Sooyoung, Sooyoung, I'm gonna come, Sooyoung, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!"

With a squeal, you grind harder on the pillow, feeling waves of pleasure wash over your body as slick spills out of your clenching hole. Sweat runs down your forehead, your back, down your chest. In your head, Yves comes just as you do, her body writhing in pleasure as slick flows out of her.

You collapse on the bed, letting the afterglow of your orgasm wash over you. Yves still doesn't leave your head, but you don't really hate that. You're way beyond trying to hide that you want to fuck her, or that you want her to make you hers anyway.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #loona fanfiction #loona fanfic #ha sooyoung #loona yves #smut #female reader #female reader insert

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