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rubberroswell · 1 month

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Star Treatment (Part Two)

“Uh uh uh. You’ll have to take those off too.” “My underwear? No way!” “Billy, this suit is tailored precisely to your body. If you’re wearing your underwear underneath it, it’s going to show. I’m sorry, but this is how these things go. Don’t worry. I promise Stefan and I will look away while you take them off.”

The two men certainly hadn’t turned away as he took everything else off, but Peter made good on his promise at least. Billy took his underwear off and tossed it onto his pile of clothes, then he stretched open the neck opening of the suit and began to slide it on over his legs. The inside of the suit was cold and slimy. No doubt the inside was covered in some sort of lube to help him get into it. This was all starting to feel like someone’s bizarre sex fantasy come true. Too bad it wasn’t his.

As Billy eased the suit up over his legs, he started to feel the rubber suit beginning to get warmer. By the time he started to pull it over his cock and ass, he was hard as a rock. At least he was covered up down there, even if the suit was going to leave little to the imagination.

“Okay, you guys can look now.”

Peter and Stefan turned, and Peter’s eyes lit up just as they had when he saw Billy round that corner.

“Perfect! Okay, let’s get the rest of this on you.”

Peter and Stefan each took a side and began to slide the rest of the suit up Billy’s body. Billy shivered as the rubber constricted around his chest and arms. Finally, after some straining, grunting, and pulling, the suit was on. Now fully suited up, Billy actually felt pretty comfortable. He looked down at his rubber-covered body, admiring the way the suit shimmered in the light. He also enjoyed the pleasant warmth from the suit. That might get uncomfortable once he was on set, but for now, it actually felt pretty good. He ran his hands over his ass, lost in the sensations the suit was giving him.

“So! Thoughts on the suit?” Peter said, snapping Billy back to reality. “It…uh, it feels pretty good. I’m kind of surprised.” “You shouldn’t be. Like I said, the suit was tailored just for you, and I’m very good at my work.”

Peter winked at Billy. Billy should have been weirded out, but he didn’t mind it for some reason.

“Would you mind doing some poses for us? Stefan is going to record some video to send to the producers to make sure they’re happy with the suit.” “Sure, that’s fine.” “Excellent!”

Stefan took out his phone and began to record. Billy did all the usual poses, enjoying the straining and snapping sounds the suit made. He thought it was funny that he was actually liking the process now. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After a couple minutes, Stefan stopped recording and left the room to send the video to the producers, leaving Billy and Peter alone.

“I have to say, I wasn’t sure how all this was going to go, but I’m really happy with the work you did.” Billy said, grinning. “I’m glad to hear it! Are you comfortable?” “Oh yes. To be honest, this is probably the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn. I don’t know how you do it.” “Well, I could tell you, but industry secrets are usually best kept close to the vest. Anyway, I’m glad you’re comfortable. It’s going to be a long few years.”

Billy laughed.

“Yeah, it will. Thankfully I won’t have to wear this all the time.” “Right. About that…”

Billy’s smile faded. A chill ran down his spine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter smirked. He walked over and sat down on a nearby stool, then looked Billy up and down.

“I suppose I should let you know. There are two reasons that gorgeous suit of yours is so comfortable. The first reason is that I’m good at my job. Damn good. I’ve been doing this for a while, and I must say that this is the best suit I’ve made so far. The second reason is a little insurance policy that the producers insist upon. You see, that suit is now a part of you, at least while you are under contract. It’s your skin.”

Billy’s eyes widened. His heart began to race.

“What?! What the fuck are you talking about?”

He quickly grabbed the chest emblem of the suit and pulled as hard as he could. Billy yelped as the pain hit him immediately. He reached behind himself, trying to find a gap or a weak point to pull open the suit, but there was nothing there. The warm rubber suit truly was his skin.

“You son of a bitch! What have you done to me?” “I’m sorry, Billy, but a contract is a contract. Perhaps you should have read yours more carefully.”

Billy was about ready to pounce on Peter, but Peter waved his finger.

“Uh uh uh. Stay right there. You harm me and it’s all over for you. No money, no fame, no nothing. The studio will make sure you become a washed up has been, or they’ll turn you into a Hollywood tragedy. I can picture the headlines now. ‘Hollywood Hero Found Dead In Accident’. ‘Super Star Burns Out’. ‘Big Hero, Bigger Heart’.” “You’re crazy!” Billy said, continuing to try to remove the suit. “Look at it this way, my friend. It’s only for a few years. After that, the suit comes off, and you get to bask in the glory of your accomplishment. These films are certain to be a big hit too, so what an accomplishment it’ll be!” “This can’t be happening! I don’t believe it! This has to be a dream or something!” “Not just a dream. THE dream! The one that everyone who has passed through here has had. I wasn’t lying when I said that I’ve seen everyone who is anyone in this town. They’ve all had to make that sacrifice. Some have had to do it several times, but that’s the price they are willing to pay. So what about you, Billy? Are you willing to pay?”

Billy said nothing. Peter was right. He had always heard about the sacrifices that actors were willing to make for their careers, but it wasn’t until this moment that he realized just how far they were willing to go. Now he found himself trapped in this suit, owned by the studio until the end of his contract. Three films. Five years in this skin. Could he do it? Would he do it? He couldn’t bear the thought of becoming a has-been or some sort of grim tabloid fodder. He wasn’t lying when he said the suit was the most comfortable thing he had ever worn, and now he knew why. Perhaps it could be worse. Perhaps he could learn to enjoy it even. Maybe in time, when he was free of the suit and could finally relax, he could look back on this and laugh. For now though, he wasn’t laughing.

“When I get out of this suit, I’m going to kill you.” “Maybe you will, or maybe you will be back for another fitting. Only time will tell.”

Stefan returned, a smile on his lips.

“Good news, Peter. The producers loved the suit. They just had one request.” “What’s that?” “They wanted to see it in a more…casual situation.”

Peter grinned, then looked at Billy. Stefan set his phone down and pressed the record button. He and Peter began to approach Billy, slowly stripping off their clothes. Fully nude, they began to press and rub against Billy’s rubber-clad body, sucking and kissing his shiny new skin. Billy tried to take his mind elsewhere, but the sensations were too much for him. He began to lose himself in them, his mind repeating those five words over and over again.

A contract is a contract… A contract is a contract… A contract is a contract…

#gay rubber #gay transformation #rubber #rubber tf #rubber transformation #male tf #male tf story #male transformation

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scarletcitrus · 1 year

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pagan min as a dragon.............this idea has been in my head for so long i’ve got like prototype pagan dragons and shit but this is my final design for him

if you want to see me go in-depth about him for reasons that are related to mental illness (i have it and it is his fault) there is more :)

okay so. i’m going to explain his entire design since it makes me happy and i’m going to start with the colors

obviously he’s super flashy and extravagant in canon so i couldn’t just Not let that cross over here. i tried to make him look like a living rainbow without actually making him a rainbow BUT i do have my reasons for each of the colors.

the golden orange-y and yellow parts are obviously, well, to represent gold and the fact that he is ummmmmmm Technically royalty despite stealing the throne? the combination of blue on gold is relative to the golden path and how he and ishwari were a thing yada yada . red is for the primary color his army wears and for lakshmana because her whole shrine is decked out in the color red and pink is for his lovely suit:)

...i couldn’t make it that vibrant pink his suit actually is or it wouldn’t have fit as well into the rest of the colors. also. all the colors are taken off the rakshasa pagan thingy but i gave them meaning to make it fancier ++++ it wasn’t my intention but the way his colors fade into each other reminds me of all the colorful ?dust (i don’t know what it is. is it just powder) in far cry 4 so that makes me happy

speaking of rakshasa pagan, the other parts of his design are very much based off of it. specifically, the bird one in shangri-la. i included the way pagan’s rakshasa face looks as best as i could but the rest of the little intricate details i all sponged off of the bird, like the armor and the crown and the huge talons. the crown i felt especially needed to be included if nothing else bc well. y’know LMAO

the vaguely peacock-looking feathers are because that seems to be his motif for himself and his army and kyrat or whatever tf i don’t really know. all i know is i see peacocks associated with him and BAM he gets some pretty feathers

p.s. ik the pose is weird in that image let’s all hold hands and pretend that he’s climbing down from something

okay bear with me . the wing size might be inconsistent but shhh don’t look at that it isn’t there also thanks to tumblr for maybe tanking the quality of these (we’ll see) . ANYWAY

he gets multiple limbs because of the golden statues (or statue singular? is there just one? i haven’t played it but god i want to) that are in his dlc and it gives me another reason to stretch the definition of “dragon” which is always super fun for me :)

his face is mostly immobile aside from being able to blink and breathe and close/open his mouth but it’s like his jaw is on hinges with the way it can only move up and down (and stiffly) because i want it to really feel like he’s got a mask on or something. like if you look at the rakshasa bird its face isn’t all that. mobile. it is made of some kind of metal i think and i tried to mimic that effect + the idea of his mask in the dlc

another p.s.! let’s all keep holding hands and pretending . this time he’s landing after flying. he doesn’t normally stand on two feet

his wings are heavy to the point that his front legs can’t really support him properly sometimes even though he’s got two pairs, so he often uses his wings as support to walk like how wyverns do. he feels like it’s inconvenient because he doesn’t want to get his feathers dirty and without a beak/easy way to close his mouth it’s annoying for him to preen them but that’s just an L he has to take

and this is just him flying 4 literally no reason. i struggle drawing animals/beings that have wings in flight (and also i struggle with the tucked-in legs that come with those) so i wanted to see if i could. i think it turned out okay? maybe

i hope this made sense and that i wasn’t totally incoherent about this! thank you for reading (if you did) (and perhaps expect more dragons... i’m a big fan of them lol)

#pagan min #far cry 4 #fanart #my art #dragon #fc4 dragons

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chika-the-terrible · 2 years

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Red-Ribbon Wrist

1956:

Leonardo hated getting lost. Even with all the lights, it was spooky, roaming around this place. There were too many dark corners and there had been plenty reports of fighting going on between Ryan and Fontaine. Leonardo didn’t want to be caught between their gangs if he could help it.

As he turned the corner, Leonardo paused. It was a Big Daddy and a Little Brother, from what he could tell. He didn’t know much about them, only that they were to be avoided at all costs, but he saw them around often. Big Daddies tended to either accompany Little Brothers or Sisters, or they went out on their own to fix Rapture.

And, in a weird way, they fascinated Leonardo. He wanted to know how they worked and why they protected Little Brothers and Sisters. It wasn’t like Big Daddies were related to their charges. You couldn’t really tell, though, what with the diving suit covering them and all, but Leonardo had a feeling. He just wished they could talk so he could ask them things, but alas.

“Hello?” He froze. Having been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t seen the Little Brother notice him, and now the boy was approaching. The Big Daddy growled slightly but the boy stuck his tongue out at the giant and kept coming forward. Eventually, the dark-haired boy came to a stop in front of Leonardo and beamed.

“Hi!” He held out his hand, “I’m Ezio!”

“Uh,” The elder glanced at the Big Daddy before he shook hands, “I’m Leonardo.”

“That’s a pretty name!”

“T-thanks...” Leonardo blushed. He took note of the Little Brother and realized that Ezio was young enough that he could have been considered Leonardo’s own younger brother. The two of them looked nothing alike, but Ezio couldn’t have been more than nine while Leonardo was sixteen. He was a very raggedy nine-year-old in torn trousers and a white shirt dirtied with a dark red substance, but a nine-year-old nonetheless. And yet the glowing yellow eyes and the syringe in his hand marked him as a Little Brother, someone to not be approached unless you had lost your mind or were mad with Adam Fever, probably both.

“So, what are you doing down here?” Ezio tucked his long hair over his shoulder.

“I kinda...got lost.” Leonardo admitted. He didn’t mind admitting his faults, but he had a feeling Ezio wouldn’t tease him for it. He just didn’t seem like that kind of kid.

“Ohhh.” Ezio nodded, “That’s okay! Mr. Bubbles knows the way out of here.” The Big Daddy moaned in response. Seeing as Leonardo was posing no threat to Ezio, it seemed like the giant of a man had calmed down. Then Ezio tugged on Leonardo’s hand and he was dragged along for the ride, following the Big Daddy down the sunken halls. He had no idea where they were going, but he was already lost, so it wasn’t like it really mattered.

Eventually, they did come across a place he recognized. It was Fort Frolic and Leonardo began to smile. He absolutely loved Fort Frolic. It was really the only place he got to be himself, with his paintings and inventions and everything else he loved to work on. If they were in Fort Frolic, his home couldn’t be too far.

“I think this is good.” he said, tugging his hand out of Ezio’s grip, “I know where I am now. I should be able to get home just fine. Thanks for your help, Ezio.”

“No trouble.” The boy pushed his hair out of his face again. He had done it a lot on the walk over. Clearly his hair was too long for him to deal with.

“Why don’t you cut your hair if it keeps getting in your way like that?” Leonardo asked.

“I don’t like it short.” was Ezio’s answer. Leonardo frowned. He glanced down at his wrist. Recently, for his birthday, one of his presents had been wrapped up in red silk ribbon, and he had kept a piece of it for himself. Maybe the ribbon could help Ezio with his hair troubles.

“If you’ll let me,” Leonardo knelt down and untied the ribbon from his wrist, “I think I know how to solve your problem.”

“Really?” Ezio asked. The childish wonder he was exhibiting never failed to make Leonardo smile.

“Yeah. I’m just going to use this ribbon to tie your hair back.” He glanced at Mr. Bubbles again, “I mean, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is!” Ezio exclaimed. Leonardo still waited for the Big Daddy to give the go ahead, though. When Mr. Bubbles nodded, Leonardo set to work, pulling Ezio’s long hair back into a tiny ponytail. Once it was all back there, he secured it with the ribbon. Now he could actually see Ezio’s face in its entirety, and he had to admit, the Little Brother looked adorable.

“There.” Leonardo pulled his hands away, “Now your hair won’t be in your eyes.” Ezio blinked. He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to dislodge the ribbon, and Leonardo exclaimed, “What are you doing?!”

“Testing it!” Ezio explained, stopping his shaking to give the elder a smile, “It’s cool!”

“I guess? Just- Be careful with it, please. If you break it, it’s not like I can replace it.” Silk was expensive down here, whether or not it was in ribbon form. Stupid embargoes...

“Alright.” Ezio nodded. His hands went back to touch his tiny ponytail in curiosity. The armored man gave a moan, almost as if in agreement. Ezio’s smile went wider, “Mr. Bubbles likes it!”

“I’m glad he does.” Leonardo smiled back, “How can you understand him?”

“I don’t. But I can tell what he’s feeling.” The younger boy looked up at his protector, “If I like something, he usually likes it, too. Right Mr. Bubbles?” The armored man nodded.

“Leonardo!” He recognized that voice. He hadn’t realized they’d come looking for him, maybe he’d stayed out later than he thought. He turned. There were his parents, but they were keeping their distance. They looked scared, almost. He wondered why. Mr. Bubbles started to growl and gently tugged Ezio closer. It seems their brief meeting was coming to an end.

“Come here, bambino!” cried his mother. If she was using Italian, that meant Leonardo was in serious trouble.

“What does that mean?” Ezio asked, “That word, bambino.”

“It’s Italian. It means child or baby, but like for a boy.”

“Ohhh.” Ezio nodded.

“Leonardo!” stressed his mother. He winced.

“I’ve gotta go now, okay?” he said, “I promise to come back.”

“Pinky promise?” Ezio held out his hand. Leonardo linked his pinky with the other boy’s.

“Pinky promise.” he affirmed. Ezio smiled.

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

1966:

Leonardo opened his eyes, feeling Ezio’s hair curled in his fingers.

“What’s wrong, Leo? You’ve been quiet.” Ezio murmured. His arms were curled around Leonardo’s waist and his glowing yellow eyes were cutting through the darkness, shining light on the opposite wall.

“Just remembering.” responded the older man, “Of when we first met and I gave you your hair ribbon.”

“Ah.” Ezio nodded against his back, “That was a good day.”

“Yeah.” Leonardo agreed, “But you should’ve seen my parents afterward. They were like ghosts, ‘cause they thought I was gonna be taken away from them or something for spending time with you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Can you blame them? You were a Little Brother, Ezio. That’s terrifying for any parent to think about.”

“Mmm.” A pause, “Maybe so, but you weren’t in danger with me and Mr. Bubbles. Everything was fine.”

“I know, but they didn’t. Think about this from their perspective. What if you lost me for good after I spent time with someone else?”

Ezio’s breath caught. Leonardo felt his grip tighten and he winced at the pressure. It wasn’t painful, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

“I thought I lost you for good after I didn’t see you again.” he whispered.

“Then you get it.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.” Ezio buried his face in Leonardo’s hair, relaxing his grip. The blond man curled his fingers through Ezio’s hair, careful not to tug it out of its ponytail. A lot had changed between now and then, and Leonardo was still fascinated by Ezio. There was so much he still wanted to know, about Little Sisters and Little Brothers and Big Daddies and everything in between, like the Big Brothers and Big Sisters.

But that could wait. For now, basking in Ezio’s arms was all Leonardo wanted.

#my post #ezioleo #ezio auditore #leonardo da vinci #assassin's creed #assassinscreedseries #fanfic #the more you know #I didn't realize they had a seven-year age gap but now I do #BioShock AU #kind of a long drabble under the cut #bioshock

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inyourpresentbloom · 5 months

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freckle

2028

Safia sat down on the balcony with her coffee and notebook, determined to put down on paper what had been floating around the ocean of her mind for the last couple days. It had been two months since she had last spoken to her mom, and four months since her and her dad had moved into the slightly worn down beach house full time; true, it had seen better days, but so had Safia. She needed to say these things now or she might never say them at all.

…

Mom,

I know that things have been weird lately. It’s not the same without you around. I’m sorry if that’s hard for you to hear, but it’s true. You should come visit this summer, Dad agrees.

I know it’s stupid to try and really know everything, but I found some of Uncle Damon’s things in his old bedroom. He seemed really lovely. There were some pictures of the two of you at the beach, and in one you were surrounded by shells. I feel like we looked really similar as kids, would you agree? Anyway, I guess I mostly just wanted to know more about him. I think, if you’d be okay with it, maybe I could show you the things I found if you visit. I put them in a tackle box I found that had a “D” etched into it, and I’m keeping it under my bed.

I don’t think I really understood what the house meant to you until now. I want to apologize if I ever came off as dismissive of it all. I still am trying to figure it all out myself, what the house means to me, I mean. I remember having the best times here as a kid- I was always in a bathing suit with wet hair, which you said you were like too once. But I’ve always felt this air here, like something was missing, or waiting, which is kind of hard to grasp. I love it here, but I don’t know if I belong here anymore. I wish I could share with you the moments of beauty my life here has to offer, but I’m worried I’ll just make it all worse. I guess that’s why I’m sending this as a letter, and not an email or something. You can have a little piece of me and the house too, in your hand. It might be a good start? I’m gonna put a sand dollar I found into the envelope for you, to add to your collection. If you still have it. I’m not sure.

I really hope you can make it out here in a couple months.

I love you Mom. Miss you.

<3 Freckle

…

She rode her mom’s old lime green bike to the post office in town and dropped the letter, with the sand dollar, into the mailbox. She hoped she said the right things, and that she could finally look forward to a summer again.

#Spotify

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shadamyheadcanons · 3 years

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Headcanon #240

Omega got the hang of socializing by emulating those around him, mostly Shadow and Rouge, and he quotes movies and TV shows whenever he feels they suit the situation to supplement his attempts. It kind of works. His manner of speaking usually says more about his friends, though.

Omega was lending Rouge a hand with the dishes one day. “YOU ARE SCRUBBING TOO HARD. IS YOUR ARM MALFUNCTIONING?”

Rouge snorted. “Nah, I’m just a little irritated today. The new recruit called me ‘vain’ because I tweaked my lip gloss during some downtime on the mission.” She held her head high. “Just because someone doesn’t take pride in her appearance doesn’t mean I won’t.”

“VANITY AND PRIDE ARE DIFFERENT THINGS, THOUGH THE WORDS ARE OFTEN USED SYNONYMOUSLY. A PERSON MAY BE PROUD WITHOUT BEING VAIN.”

Rouge paused, then side-eyed him. “Uh...okay...? I guess so...”

“PRIDE RELATES MORE TO OUR OPINION OF OURSELVES, VANITY TO WHAT WE WOULD HAVE OTHERS THINK OF US.”

Rouge finished washing the last dish and turned fully toward him. “What?!” He faced her, unreadable as usual. She cocked her head suspiciously. “Have you been spending too much time in front of that damn TV again?”

He inclined his head in confirmation. “IT IS VERY ENJOYABLE. I FIGURE LIFE IS A GIFT, AND I I DO NOT INTEND ON WASTING IT.”

Rouge just stopped and stared, baffled. She took out her phone to google the phrase. I know I’ve heard that somewhere before...

Rouge leaned against the doorframe of the living room and crossed her arms. “Hey, Shadow?”

Shadow grunted in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from his motorcycle magazine.

Rouge glanced back down at her phone. “Why is Omega quoting Pride and Prejudice and The Notebook?”

Shadow flinched almost imperceptibly. “Weird,” he commented, still not looking up. “He picks up the strangest stuff, doesn’t he?” She tapped her foot. When she stayed silent, he added, “He’s been watching too much TV. Do parental controls work on a robot?”

“Maybe.” She waited for a few more seconds, but he didn’t say anything else. She frowned and left.

Just because you’re not technically lying to me doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re up to something.

Rouge invited Amy over on a hunch that weekend. Over dinner, she posed the same question to Amy, who instantly perked up.

“Oh, yeah! Shadow and I watch tons of romance movies!”

Shadow choked on his grilled cheese.

Rouge’s eyes brightened. “Oh, really? I had no idea!”

Amy missed the mischief in Rouge’s tone. “Yup! Every week! It’s great having someone who loves them as much as I do.”

Rouge smirked teasingly at Shadow. “Wow! I didn’t know that!”

Shadow was still trying to choke down his food. “Well...it’s not like I...”

“You don’t have to be shy, Shadow. There’s nothing like a good romance!” Amy enthused, clasping her hands under her chin. “Shadow told me he likes the nice, sweet endings and how the characters always end up happy. Can’t say I disagree!”

Shadow was staring wide-eyed and terrified down at his plate, and he was gripping his glass so hard Rouge was afraid it would break. She tried to hide giggles behind her hand.

Oblivious to the mood, Amy hopped to her feet. “I’m going to get more water. Do you three need anything?”

Shadow shook his head stiffly. Rouge got herself under control enough to say, “I’m all set, hun. It’s sweet of you to ask!”

“INDEED. IT IS THE GENERAL CONSENSUS OF THIS HOUSE THAT AMY ROSE IS A SWEET, KIND INDIVIDUAL WHO IS FUN TO SPEND TIME WITH,” Omega added. Rouge’s gaze snapped over to Shadow. He avoided her eyes.

Amy beamed brightly. “Thank you, Omega! I love being here, too!”

“WONDERFUL. ROSE IS GREAT TO WATCH MOVIES WITH AND TALK TO. ROSE IS GENUINE AND RELAXING TO BE AROUND.”

Rouge blinked. Just ‘Rose’...?

Shadow was glaring daggers at him. “Omega...” he hissed.

Omega kept going. “IN FACT, SOME PEOPLE SAY ROSE IS CUTE AND IT WOULD BE NICE TO CUDDLE WITH HER INSTEAD OF JUST WATCHING MOVIES.”

At that, Amy and Rouge couldn’t hold in their laughter. Shadow held his head in his hands and groaned.

Much later, Omega admitted he knew exactly what he was doing.

#shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #hc #Light in the Dark #Team Dark #Rouge the Bat #Trollmega #E 123 Omega #Everyone Ships Shadamy

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mosstliest · 3 years

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i think the act of verbally asking for consent to physically touch someone (platonic or not) is very important and it can also be very cute in the different ways people would ask for consent to touch the other so perhaps headcanons on how dsmp characters would ask for consent to hug someone (maybe even asking for consent to use something of the persons)

have a wonderful day :] - 🪐

cw! pogtopia wilbur because I couldn't help myself

in this: (all c!_) Technoblade . Sapnap . Fundy . Wilbur

C! Techno:

It’s common knowledge that physical affection doesn’t come particularly easy to the callused warrior

Techno rarely initiates contact

and whenever he does, he makes sure to ask you if it’s okay

“can I” he signals with his hands, he’s vague and awkward and blushing just a little

you don’t answer, mouth much too occupied in an enamoured smile to conceptualize a coherent sentence

“y’know… hug you?” deep voice gone low and red eyes drifting between snow tainted windows and his lover before him

“of course” you talk in that way you do when you’re in love and he can hear your smile

there’s barely a step between him and you and walking it to wrap himself around you comes naturally as breathing

your hugs are the kind that could last for hours without ever being awkward, be it when you let go or while you’re wrapped so tightly your edges become blurry, it’s organic

C! Sapnap:

Having skin as warm to the touch as a freshly lit match never posed much of an issue to Sapnap

sure he couldn’t bare wearing anything heavier than a white top without melting, and dolphins swam away from him when his friends and him went swimming --George has been sleeping for a while and Dream is rotting away in a blackstone prison cell, so that doesn’t even matter now.

It was never bothersome

That is

Until he met you

No that’s not right

It was fine for a while, it opened a door to many a “woah you’re hot” jokes (the punchline hereof was without fail “hehe, I know”)

and he could easily mask any faint blush with some bullshit about temperature

however, he is deeply terrified of hurting you, even if his skin has never gotten warm enough to burn, the very thought of leaving a single red mark, a single blister…

so he always asks, to hold your hand, to kiss you, to hug you or put his arm around your shoulders

a shy question with a tentative “are you sure?” following suit

and you say yes, because he’s sapnap, he’s warm and feels like home

C! Fundy /p

poor boy’s got issues

he holds onto stuff to dearly, he holds onto people for dear life because one two many have left him stranded

he likes to wear your jewellery

you're probably one of the only people he wouldn't steal from, and when he asks if he can keep a string bracelet or old copper ring there isn't a moment of hesitation before you say yes

he'll always come back with a ribbon or a flower, as a thanks

while his primary love language is gift giving (it might have to do with his fox half but that’s unimportant)

physical touch has a way of making him feel safe, specially if it comes from you

he’s startled easily and takes a while to open up to people, even longer to let them touch him in any way

so he’s slow and careful

“I really want to hold your hand right now but I want to know if that’s okay”

he likes to walk around holding hands, or with his arm around your shoulder if he’s feeling douchey

he likes it when you ask too

If you want to hug him, you’ll grab his wrist and whisper

“Is it okay?”

It always is

C! Wilbur (pogtopia era)

the ravine is cold, the rocks too grounded to each other for any light to scurry through

the ravine is cold and Wilbur is beautiful

the war hero clad in white, red and navy blue is long gone. Now, he wears brown, gray and stone

he’s beautiful in the way all dangerous things are

and still, maybe for the worst, under the maddening rebel he’s still… Wilbur

he still fucks around with tommy, albeit less frequently, and he banters with technoblade and he teaches weird stuff to tubbo

he no longer swoops you off your feet and spins you around like crazy

he’s careful

like he doesn’t want to scare you, like he’s scared he might hurt you

he wouldn’t, not in a million years, he’d rather cut off his hand than ever inflicting any pain in you

still, he’s scared

because war has a way of scaring one’s soul, so does solitude, and god knows he’s gotten enough of both to spare

so he asks

his voice a lot quieter, a lot sweeter

and sometimes you say no, when the fire in his eyes looks more risky than warm, or the cold of the cavern is at the tip of your fingers

but when you say yes and he wraps his arms around you; he smells like brimstone and leather and Wilbur

for a split second it’s like you’re home, in a country built on friendship and shielded by blackstone.

Home is a curious word, hopefully one day you’ll mold it to mean a cold cavern inhabited by two young souls too excited by not having to hold onto the railings, a warrior with a history coated in blood and a man whose brown curls have lost most of their shine and who always asks before he holds your hand

🪐 my dearest, I hope this is what you were expecting and you (all) enjoy it, it was a lot of fun writing it :^)

I pray you excuse any typos I speedran this in like an hour

likes and reblogs are rewarded with a kith and I hope you have a lovely morning/afternoon/evening/night

tiny taglist! (dm or smth if u wanna be added)

@i-bitch-you-bitch @bi-narystars @p1gst3p

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angelmavmurdock · 3 years

Text

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland smuts #Smut #tom holland smut #stoner au #innocent au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #fluff #ginny and marcus #oneshot

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shroudcore · 3 years

Text

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (Finale)

Summary: The ghosts may have left, but the wedding they officiated is not something to be easily forgotten. Will unsaid feelings remain hidden? Idia thinks so, after seeing you with your admirers.

Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

After that 3-star difficulty sidequest, it was finally time for the ghosts to leave. They were filing out through a shimmering silver portal to the Land of the Dead, which you joked about jumping into “for the meme”. Idia was quick to discourage it. The joke would’ve been funny at any other time than right now.

Each ghost made sure to give the newlyweds their congratulations. Each congratulation made Idia want to take off into the night, never to be seen again. It was beyond embarrassing. Unbearable. Way past his limit of social interaction capability. Things were getting way too much to handle for his now-empty Energy bar.

While Idia longed for the comfort and isolation of his dorm room, you were the one who thanked the well-wishers and said the goodbyes—from a safe distance, of course.

“When we return, I want you to meet our baby!” Eliza announced before she stepped into the portal. You and Idia shared a look. As if reading each other’s minds, you checked your schoolmates’ faces for their reactions—which did not disappoint. Different ways of saying “Don’t come back!” filled the hall, in varying degrees of anger and vulgarity. Before she disappeared for good, Eliza huffed and stuck her nose up in the air—an expression that tonight’s failed suitors knew all too well.

At her departure, the portal shrunk into a mere speck until it completely disappeared. Then came the loudest cheers of the night serving as Victory fanfare. It was all over! But before he went, Idia hoped to say goodbye and take a look at you in your suit one last time. Or maybe even ask you to hang out tomorrow, depending on his current Courage level.

While he silently rehearsed his thank-yous and good-byes, he wondered if you knew that you were still holding his hand. He decided not to mention it.

Unfortunately, his brief moment of (weak) celebration was cut short when he noticed that the now-mobile Groom Rejects were approaching. They might as well have red bars floating over their heads to warn him of danger. He froze, contemplating whether to:

> Bear it and stay with you just until he was prepared to say goodbye (+10 relationship points -20 comfort LV)

> Just run off on his own without saying anything, ignoring your calls. (-10 relationship points +10 comfort LV)

For now, he decided to stick with Option 1. Just a little bit longer.

“That was amazing!” Deuce exclaimed, rushing over to give you a high-five. You laughed and met other high-fives, low-fives, fist bumps, and head pats that came your way with that lovely smile of yours.

Suddenly, Ace rips you away from him. Suddenly, you weren’t holding hands anymore. The loud first-year put his arm around you and Idia couldn’t help but notice how easy and natural it looked. Meanwhile, there he was: someone who needed to rehearse his goodbyes.

Clearly, there was a huge level difference here and Idia was the one disadvantaged.

“Our hero!” Ace yelled, inspiring more cheers. The distance between you and Idia grew as your wave of admirers and friends swept you farther and farther away. He was an outsider once again, stuck watching the fun from the sidelines. Their eyes sparkled. Their mouths smiled. Their loud voices laughed and praised you and laughed with you again.

They loved you. And Idia was no different.

Everyone’s Friend and the Weird Shut-in. Was there hope?

“Brother, I’m so glad you’re safe!” Ortho’s voice cut through his stream of thoughts. Immediately, he feels the weight on his shoulders lighten.

He watched as his brother, his beacon of hope, made his way around your fan club until he eventually reached his spot. Ortho wouldn’t care if he looked like a loser, standing there awkwardly at the side all alone. Finally, he was saved.

My savior! “Ortho! Thank you, thank you…”

“No injuries… tense muscles… an increase in cortisol production,” Ortho muttered, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“No…”

Ortho nods. “We’ll return to the dorm, then. But before that, we should thank the Prefect.”

“Oh… right.” Idia looked over to you, still surrounded by your “fans” like the SSR character you were. You listened to Azul, who prattled on and on about something that was oh-so-interesting that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. And Vil judged your suit’s design, reaching out to fix something near your neck. You cracked up at something Floyd said. You posed and smiled beside Cater as he took a selfie with you.

His mind raced as it continuously spotted the students on his list and everything they did. What was so interesting about Azul? What was so funny about Floyd? Did you like Vil’s hardworking, confident attitude? Did you think Cater had a way with words?

He looked away.

“Ortho, I’m going back to my room,” he said with a heavy heart, admitting Defeat. He was underleveled, had zero energy, and zero SP (social points). He’ll see you… some other time. After his cry-sesh, maybe.

“Huh? Don’t you want to talk to the Prefect first?”

“I’ll just… DM them later,” he lied. In truth, all he wanted was to drown himself in a video game while he gorged on candy and tried not to think about you. Ortho’s eyes narrowed, but followed him as he sneakily left the hall anyway.

You’d understand, right?

Once he and Ortho were out, he looked back at the hall doors, hating himself for being too shy and cowardly to make a move. He imagined charging back into the room, wedging himself in between your friends, grabbing your arm, and pulling you away. Then he’ll kabedon you and—

Who was he kidding? He can’t do that, and you probably wouldn’t like that.

“It was terrible, brother. Nobody wanted to help!” Ortho said, and Idia thinks he didn’t need to be reminded that nobody liked him.

“When the Prefect and I reached Diasomnia, we expected them to reject us too…” he mused. “But Malleus Draconia agreed to help us! Can you believe it?”

“Wait… Malleus-shi?”

Ortho nodded enthusiastically. “Yes… because the Prefect talked to him… and then he cast a charm on them to help us ward off those ghosts! It was really nice of him.”

“I see…” Idia knew that you and Malleus were friends. But to actually help you and him? Maybe your relationship with the Diasomnia dorm leader ran deeper than he thought. Why else would he go through that trouble?

“The Prefect volunteered without needing to be asked, you know,” said Ortho, who he now noticed was observing him carefully. Idia tried to ignore the way his brother’s eyes lingered on him as they walked (floated in Ortho’s case).

“...I’m so glad their plan worked!”

Wait, what?

“Volunteered? Their plan?” All this time, he thought you’d been forced to do this by the Headmaster! You did always rant about Crowley promising you different sorts of rewards if you did jobs here and there. But… you got yourself into this mess… all for him?

Idia looked at the hand you held just moments ago and dared not hope again. Maybe you would have done this for anyone else in his place. Maybe you treated everyone the same, and it just so happened that he was the one kidnapped by a ghost bride.

Still, he felt bad for not doing as Ortho said earlier. It was too late to turn back, however, as Idia and Ortho finally reached the Hall of Mirrors.

“Finally… I’m so tired,” said Idia, meaning it in all ways. But as he put one leg forward to enter the door to Ignihyde, he heard someone’s voice, along with the scuffle of shoes against the floor coming closer and closer to where he and Ortho stood.

“Idia, wait up!”

Oh no. It’s you. Enter now! Enter now!

But no matter what his head told him to do, he remained rooted to his spot. He stood still despite his pounding heart, that elevator-like feeling in his stomach, and the blaring alarms in his head.

Object of affection at 5m…

Ortho was probably seeing his vitals going haywire and giving him that look again. He turned to look at his brother… only to not find him there.

Help… oh no…

2m…

“Hey,” you gasped out, catching your breath. “When I turned around, you were gone…”

Yeah, same. Just like Ortho…

No one said a word for a while. The silence was only filled by your heavy breathing as it slowly evened. Inwardly facepalming at himself, he decided to take the chance to tell you everything he should’ve said before he left.

But before he could open his mouth and apologize for leaving, (gods know he had too many things to apologize for after tonight), he was taken into a warm embrace.

OHMYGODSOHMYGODSOHMYGODSOKAYLET’SCALMDOWN

“I thought I was too late.” you mumbled into his suit.

At that moment, without anyone else around, nothing else mattered but the safety of your arms. And damn, how good it felt to be embraced. Did anyone else get these hugs from you? Idia didn’t think so. He hesitantly lifted his arms up and hugged back.

Looking up at the domed castle ceiling, he wondered what he did to deserve something this good.

It’s okay. I can have this. He allows himself to melt into your arms, head drooping down to rest against your neck.

“G-good thing you weren’t,” he finally whispered back, freezing as he heard you sob against his chest. Oh no, oh no, what do you do when your love interest is crying? Quick, quick, pull up the archive of romantic scenes from your memory.

“Hey, hey, I-I’m okay, you see?” he said, patting your back awkwardly. You let go after releasing another sob to wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

“Sorry I got your suit wet,” you said softly, turning your face away. “I’m really, really sorry about what happened there too.”

“About what?”

“The whole wedding thing...” You took a quick look at him but immediately dropped your gaze to the ground.

Idia blushed. “I-It’s okay! D-don’t worry about it… I-”

Come on, say more! Ugh… I hate myself.

You pulled at our vest and slipped something out of it—an envelope. “I… wanted to tell you everything through a letter.”

Tell me what?

“But… Eliza came and took you before I could give it to you.” You avoided his eyes as your fingers tightened around the white envelope. Idia’s breath hitched, expecting you to crumple it. But to his relief, your fingers relaxed. Then, as if it took all your courage, you handed it to him with a slightly shaky hand.

“It's old-fashioned, I know but yeah... just read it!”

In the hall’s silence, he could hear your breaths quicken once again.

“Th-That’s all I came here for. Goodbye!”

Before he knew it, you were running off. Your arm waved frantically from a distance as every step carried you farther, farther away. He lifted his arm to wave back but you never saw it. You were gone and all he had left was the letter.

His curiosity made him impatient. With fast and purposeful steps, he sprinted on the way to his room. What did he feel? Excitement? Dread? An unpleasant mix of both? His room, feeling farther than usual, was the only safe place he could experience whatever it was.

After a lot of walking and almost slipping over someone’s spilled soda (he cursed the shoes those ghosts made him wear. His very own would never fail him like that), he found himself in front of the doors, which slid open, revealing Ortho already inside.

“You left me there!” Idia huffed.

“Couples need alone time, brother,” replied his brother, innocently blinking.

“Wh-wha… we’re not a couple!”

“Hmm? I could’ve sworn the signs were all there...”

A blushing Idia threw off the silly coat those ghosts made him wear and threw it over his desk chair. He sat on the bed, fingers racing to open the envelope. Ortho watched with great interest as two sheets of paper covered in your handwriting slipped out.

Unfolding the first page, Idia took a deep breath and began reading:

Hey Player 1!

Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight last night. Maybe you can show me your new manga tomorrow? I know how excited you are about it. I’m writing this while Grim’s asleep. He’ll never let me hear the end of it otherwise.

I figured that this would be the best way to communicate my thoughts and feelings. This way, you won’t feel pressured to respond immediately. You can open and read it whenever you’re ready, in the safety of your room. I know it’s old-fashioned. But to me, a handwritten letter feels more personal—like I’m giving you a piece of myself. So here’s that piece of myself. Please, handle it with care.

Beware. I’m about to get sentimental and mushy and cheesy and everything you cringe at! I hope you read on, anyway.

First of all, I want you to know how much I admire you. Right from before we were friends, I was impressed by your intelligence and knowledge with technology. I’ve seen nothing like it back home. I always wondered why you hide yourself and those talents away. My curiosity drove me to want to get to know you. I’m glad I did.

You were closed off. To you, I was just another normie. Do you remember? Your dismissal annoyed me, so I challenged you to a 1v1 match. I thought I was good, but you crushed me. I guess that’s where it started: our friendship… and something else. Soon, I found more and more reasons to admire you. Honestly, I find more with each passing day.

I should have known, right from when songs started to make me think of you, that I was falling. I started to see you as, well, more than a friend. Your quick mind, your expressive hair, your soothing voice, your precious grin… your voice when you talk about things you love, your love of cats, and your candy, and your cold hands… Okay, I think you get the point. But if you have time, I could go on forever.

There’s something different in your eyes when you truly care. You say you’re bad at being sentimental and feel-y, but that’s okay! We express love differently. I see your love pour out in the way you perfect every detail on Ortho’s modifications, anyway. I’m sure he knows how much you love him.

I want you to know how special you are to me. You’re so amazing, Idia. I wish you knew that. I want you to know that.

I know it’s hopeless. You’re the young master to a noble house. I’m just… me. A homeless, magicless foreigner with nothing to my name. Nothing to offer but my feelings (and my superb gaming skills of course). I’m not asking nor expecting to be your special someone. But hey, I can be a top-tier teammate. A worthwhile BG opponent. A movie buddy. And most importantly—a friend.

Our time together has always been a highlight of my difficult stay in NRC. The times we hung out in your room were my refuge from the outside world’s demands. Somewhere I was untouchable and safe from harm. Safe from demeaning remarks. Even if you never get back to this letter and decide you never want to see me again, I will always treasure the matches we played, the movies we watched, the candy we shared, and the memes we laughed over.

That’s all of it, really. Please don’t sleep too late. Watch your sugar intake. Listen to Ortho. Take care of yourself.

Oh, and enjoy your new manga.

Your best raid teammate,

Player 2

Wide amber yellow eyes glistened as they repeatedly flitted over the words. A shaky thumb caressed the smudged ink from where a fallen teardrop marked the paper. Burning different shades at once, fire-hair slowly released itself from the tie it was forced into. Now free, it swathed Idia’s back in warmth like it should.

“Th-This can’t be real!” he sputters as he waved your letter around like he was fanning a bonfire. In a way, he was.

However, Idia knew his hair wasn’t the only thing that kept him warm. He stared at the letter and it stared back. But no matter how many times he blinked, the words remained the same. You felt the same.

“What have I done to unlock this route?” Idia clutched the letter to his chest, but noticed he was wrinkling it. “Nooo!” He quickly smoothed it over again.

“They… they like-like me!” Saying it out loud made it more real. It was a fact! It was true all this time! Thinking of everything you did tonight: rescuing him like a true hero, running after him because you couldn’t keep your feelings secret for much longer… he couldn’t stop himself from swooning.

“Like-like… did you mean love?”

“L-love?” Idia exclaimed. He suddenly felt dizzy, so he fell back onto his bed and talked to the ceiling. “It’s too early for that word!”

But he knew the effect which that word had on him didn’t go unnoticed by Ortho. Well, at least he knew now that Idia wasn’t suffering from an illness. Can love be considered an illness? Idia recalls a documentary that said it was. Back then, he ate that up. Love made people do crazy things, after all.

But ‘illness’ wasn’t an apt word to describe this dizzying happiness surging through him, was it? It was way too wonderful for a word like that.

“I’m so glad the Prefect finally confessed!” Ortho bounced happily, reflecting his brother’s joy. “I knew they would do it soon!”

Mouth hanging open, Idia looked at his brother. “Wait… you knew?”

“I’ve known for a while,” Ortho giggled. “Vitals can’t keep secrets!”

***

Contrary to plan, Idia didn’t touch his video games, nor gorge on candy, nor cry himself to sleep. Instead, he replayed the night’s events in his head over and over like a song he couldn’t get enough of. It had been two hours and thirty-five minutes since he read your letter. Two hours and thirty-five minutes since his world was turned upside down. In his reflection on the dark screen of his off tablet, he almost looked different. He saw someone who was admired. Wanted. Loved.

Was that what you saw whenever you looked at him?

Ortho told him what the next move was: asking you out. He was scared. You might have changed his view of himself a bit, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly ready to go the distance and conquer the world, or whatever those overenthusiastic extroverts say. The night was still too much, and maybe he still needed those three weeks of being a complete hermit.

Okay. Maybe with your help, I'll get there little by little.

Perhaps you could watch a movie in his room... Would you be okay with that? You always hung out with him in there. But what if you wanted to do something outside? Eh, maybe it all didn’t matter, as long as you were together.

When he put on his headphones, he knew which song to choose right away. There was one forgotten song in his music library that he couldn’t bring himself to delete. A love song. It wasn’t a bad one, because Idia would never keep a bad song in his music library. It’s just that the lyrics were too happy—its singer so blissfully in love that it amplified the loneliness that had always been there.

Now playing: “Immortal Flowers” — SERPINA

This time, it’ll be different. Tonight, he puts it on repeat. He listens to it with a head for once clear of uncertainties. Instead, he thinks of fluffy otome scenarios.

That date idea would have to wait. For now, he’ll imagine and dream of you, with your warm smile and open arms—skin basking in the glow of blue fire light.

THE END.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

There you have it! Thank you for reading. I had fun writing this 4-part series. Would love to hear some feedback!

Btw, the title of the song Idia listens to at the end comes from “Conversations with Persephone” by Nikita Gill. “What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.”

#twst x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fic #my work

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detectivehannibal · 3 years

Text

Pretty as a Picture

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of smut.

A/N: Why do I keep disappearing from this blog?? I’ve had this idea for FOREVER. Fun fact about me, I sometimes recycle my works from other blogs. So if you’re curious, this is from my Harry Potter blog @seriouslysnape and here’s the original work.

Word Count: 1,738

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.”

On the surface, surprises don’t really seem to come to mind when you think about Hannibal Lecter. The esteemed psychiatrist always came off to you as an open book. He was usually willing to share all aspects of his life with you, which naturally left you believing that there weren’t any secrets lurking further within himself.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Despite all the things that you didn’t know about Hannibal, you knew him well enough to know the sorts of things that he has a fancy for and the things he doesn’t. As high maintenance and temperamental as he is, he is shockingly easy to please. It’s a bit of an ironic statement, but still the truth nonetheless.

You could gift Hannibal with something as simple as a pair of socks or with something as extravagant as a brand new luxury suit, and he’d always have the same genuine, appreciative reaction. If something came from you, he would surely love it with his whole heart.

This gift, however, was on a whole new level.

The idea had honestly come to you at random when you were brainstorming birthday present possibilities. Even though he would never admit it, he was a bit bored of you buying him a new tie for every occasion. He had a tie for every color, pattern, and even he could ever dream of. You wanted to think outside of the box this time. You wanted to come up with something that he would never ever think of.

On the flip side, you also wanted to be sure that it was something that he could have for a long time and something that would have some real meaning to him. You could always go down the culinary appliance route, but he already had absolutely everything he’d ever possibly want or need. You were in a bit of a rut, but that’s when you got a wonderful thought.

Hannibal didn’t own many personal pictures. Most of the photos in his house were custom made art pieces that were worth more than the price of your left leg alone. Hannibal never struck you as the kind of man to have plethoras of pictures of loved ones, but you still found it odd. It’d be a win-win in your eyes. You’d supply Hannibal with some photos to hold on to, and it’d be a thoughtful gift.

Then your plan took a sultry turn.

You had picked out a large photo album that would match the aesthetic of his house, and an album that would have plenty of pages to fill up. You kept it stashed away in your closet until you were ready to put pictures inside of it when another idea came to mind.

What if you made a sexy photo album for him?

At first, you were a little sheepish at the idea. Boudoir style pictures showing off only the dirtiest of contents? It seemed like that might be too much and even a bit weird. The longer you thought about it, though, the more and more the idea sounded good. Maybe Hannibal wouldn’t necessarily jump at the gift, but at least he’d have something to jerk off to when you weren’t around.

You assembled as many outfits as you could, some coming from your personal collection and some were purchased as a specialty to the production of the photos. You’d need some help actually having the photos taken, which is why you recruited one of your closest friends.

You could’ve had them professionally done, but you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with a photographer and group of modeling experts studying over your naked body for an entire day. Your friend was stoked for the project and dedicated a whole afternoon while Hannibal was at work to help you out.

You took probably about a hundred pictures, all with varying poses, outfits, and locations around the house. You even took a few more innocent photos of you just smiling or doing candid things. You figured that you needed some sweet to balance out the spicy.

You decorated the pages to add some pop and flare, ultimately thrilled with the final product. Hannibal’s birthday was only a few days away, and you were itching to show him what you had made for him.

“You’re fidgety tonight.” Hannibal spoke from where he was laid out underneath you on the living room sofa.

It was true, you had been extremely jittery for the last hour and a half, trying to compose yourself. Hannibal had told you that he had wanted nothing more than to have a quiet evening in for his birthday, which you found as a blessing because he’d definitely want to stay around the house after seeing his gift.

“Sorry. Just excited.” You admitted, seeing this as the perfect opportunity.

He raised a brow, looking down at your frame that was practically trembling with explosive animation.

“I feel as if I don’t need to inform you that my birthday comes around every year,” He joked; “What’s gotten you so elated?”

You smiled up at him with a brightness that was almost blinding. You scrambled off of the sofa at your cue.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.” You announced as you dashed up the stairs.

Hannibal chuckled to himself, already guessing as to what you were plotting. You returned shortly after with the picture book in hand, complete with a bow on top. You sat with your legs crossed in front of him, eagerly handing it to him.

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.” You explained.

Hannibal sat up from where he was settled into the cushions, eyeing over the cover carefully. It was a beautifully crafted book, the dark leather was absolutely gorgeous. He pushed the bow off of the sides, opening to the very first page to see a sweet note you had written him, signed with your signature and all. He turned to the first page to actually contain photos on it, and a smile of pure joy spread on his face.

You had put all of the non-sexual pictures in the first two pages to disguise the actual reason for the book. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different casual outfits and in different places.

“Darling, these are wonderful,” He complimented; “They’re stunning, they-”

His heartbeat quickened when he made it to the third page, and he noticed they had taken on a new theme. The scandalous photos were enough to knock him speechless. For the first time ever, you saw Hannibal’s cheeks break out into a deep blush. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing one of his white work shirts with all the buttons undone. The only thing you were wearing underneath was one of his ties settled between your breasts.

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, red colored set that almost made him faint right then and there.

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and you went back to your original worry that this was a bad idea. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling, because Hannibal Lecter always had something to say.

Your voice was thick with uncertainty as you spoke to break the silence.

“Hannibal, do you...like them?” You wondered aloud.

His eyes never steered clear from the book in his hands and the photos presented in front of him. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on the massive kitchen counter and giving a look so seductive that it made his belly flutter. The sight of you naked in his culinary world where he spent so much time was a sight to behold.

“[Y/N], I love them. These photographs...they’re beautiful, well produced, and so, so sexy.” He breathed out.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of anticipation as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, his hot blush growing even deeper onto his cheeks. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming dirtier than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

His lips parted slightly ajar as he loomed over them. Your waiting was patient as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. Your suspicions had been correct after all.

He was going to rock your world.

Hannibal usually didn’t try to make the first move. He always wanted you to initiate sex first. He believed that sex was a passionate, romantic connection that shouldn’t always be fueled by burning want and desire from outside resources. Based on the way he was looking at you though, you could tell that he wanted you BADLY.

He nonchalantly rolled his hips forward to create some kind of friction. The sneaky grin on your face was almost maddening. The way that your body leaned in and your lips brushed over his just ever so was intoxicating. Your lips traveled to his ear as you purposefully let out a wanton moan to tantalize him.

“Touch me, Hanni. I know you want to.” You coaxed.

That was all he needed.

Hannibal lunged forward, smothering your body with his and suffocating you with hot kisses. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you.

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those outfits under this sweater?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. When Hannibal didn’t want you to go anywhere, then you wouldn’t. You bit down on your lip in a seductive way, breathing out your response to send him into full on love making mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x female reader #hannibal lecter x reader imagine #detectivehannibal

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cherryyharryy · 3 years

Note

angst to fluff where y/n finds out she was originally just supposed to be a rebound type thing after he broke up with someone like idk something like he broke up with someone on the european leg of tour and she was supposed just be with him until he went on another leg but then he started to love her and brings her on the rest of tour with him and she finds out abt the rebound thing after the last show of tour where everyones drunk and celebrating and one person lets it slip

I tweaked it just a bit...hope that's ok:)

WC: 3.5K

****

“You look beautiful.”

I skim my nose across Harry’s cheek, his chin resting on my shoulder, and hum against stubble that wasn’t there this morning. “You’ve said that five times tonight.”

“And?” He slips around to face me.

His suit is a deep maroon, probably black if you’re far away, probably purple if you’ve had too much champagne. His chest expands when I slide my hand down.

“Love this dress.” He takes my hand off and pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my head.

“You two forget where you’re at?” Another foreign voice surrounds us, well, foreign to me.

“Fucker,” Harry says to the man. They pat each other’s backs as the guy walks away. “Tyler Johnson.”

“Oh.”

“He worked with me on the last album.”

“Okay.”

It’s like the fifteenth person that I’ve been introduced to tonight, all of whom pass by with quick hellos, inside jokes with Harry, and little interest in me. The fast paced world of the rich and famous doesn’t slow down, even for charity.

“Harry, so glad you could make it.” Another voice, another man. This one lingers, long enough to receive my name, and offer a cliche compliment about my patience to put up with this beautiful bastard on my arm.

I thank him with the smile I’ve learned to speak through. These celebrities never stop smiling. Never stop posing. Never stop.

Then he’s gone too, and Harry’s whispering yet another name in my ear, of which I’ll forget seconds later because these people ultimately mean nothing to me. They all seem to pass through each other’s lives whenever convenience allows, playing house and acting like grown ups who get the privilege of not truly growing up.

I feel like the Gucci dress Harry had tailored to my body doesn’t fit. My posture sucks. I’m too scared to eat any of the finger foods being carried on silver platters through the hall. I haven’t learned how to smile through food I don’t like or not make a mess or take small enough bites. I swear, not one glass of champagne has any lipstick on it. They’re like magic.

I look at Harry. He’s stepped away to converse with a face that I do know. He and Jeff speak animatedly, Harry’s arms gesturing to whatever story he’s telling. I step over to one of the dressed tables and place what little weight I can onto the chair, needing to cling to something. When I look back up I smile, the two of them now laughing, and probably a little too loud for this charity auction.

“Y/n...right?”

I whip around, a man I’ve seen in pictures on Harry’s phone holds out his hand.

I straighten my back and accept his greeting. “Yes.”

“Finally we meet!” He catches my confusion and chuckles. “I produced Harry’s last album.”

Something clicks in my head, and he’s suddenly more familiar. “Oh! I knew that.”

Tom Hull...Kid Harpoon I process just as he introduces his name.

“I—”

An arm slipping around my waist stunts my question, Harry tipping back a red drink with his free hand while the other squeezes my hip. “Just tell this one to leave you alone,” he jabs.

Tom rolls his eyes, patting the breast of his green suit to look for something, only to show off his middle finger.

“Can’t believe the two of you haven’t met,” Harry says.

“I know, I guess we just missed each other.” Tom nods to me. “Heard you went to quite a few shows.”

“As many as I could.”

An uneasy sting travels down my spine. I did go to many shows, practically following Harry around his entire tour...all on his dime. Lord knows the man can afford it, but I still felt weird about him dishing out thousands of dollars to add me to each plane ride.

“Well I’m happy to see you two kids together,” Tom jokes, patting Harry on his back. “I’ve told him he needs to date women who will fuck him up. That’s where the songs are.”

He saunters off like he did not just say that. No. Absolutely not.

My face burns and it hurts to turn my head, but I still manage to narrow my eyes at Harry.

“Do you want another drink?”

I wait. I give him more than enough seconds to explain what the hell that was. But he’s clueless—ignorant.

“No. I do not.”

***

I do not bother taking my heels off in the car. My plan is to storm into our hotel room the second we park. Possibly locking Harry out...haven’t decided on that part yet.

The vague chit chat he makes with the driver stirs my nerves. It shouldn’t make me angry, and it’s not so much the act as it is his demeanor. He’s too cheery right now and it’s pissing me off.

“Okay,” he grabs my attention from Los Angeles flying past my window, the partition rolling up to leave us completely alone in the back seat. “What’s wrong?”

I bite my tongue, literally. “Nothing.”

“You seemed...irritated.”

“Did I?”

“Y/n.”

I turn to face him, inhaling sharply to calm my coming words. “Why are you with me?”

His face pales, and not a muscle moves. He just stares at me until he finally blinks and starts jerking his jaw around. “What are you talkin’ about?”

I roll my eyes. “The fact that you don’t know, bothers me even more.” I sigh, fighting back tears because I am determined not to cry in front of him. “Tom said that you should date people that fuck you up.”

“O—oh. That’s all?”

I squint, curling my lip. “What do you mean, that’s all? Is that not enough for you? Because that was a lot for me to hear tonight.”

“Baby, he was just messing around.”

I don’t budge.

“Really, it’s nothin’ to think about.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup my jaw. “Promise. It’s just like when people told you that you could do better than me, or insult me to compliment you.” He shrugs. “It’s just party talk.”

I process his words, supposing he’s not wrong. He did receive quite a few insults in lieu of my praise tonight. Maybe I was just on edge because of the setting; being surrounded by the rich and famous while I struggle to pay my rent each month isn’t exactly grounds for positive thinking.

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He leans over to kiss me, stroking my face as his lips skim over mine. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”

***

It’s funny how your brain works. How emotions swoop in and corral your thoughts, like a salesman who pretends to care about you so they can get what they want. My mind was desperate for relief, from hearing Tom’s nervy comment, and I naively allowed Harry to take what he needed in that moment.

Something’s not quite right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.

I’ve been mulling over Harry’s words in my head all weekend, playing them on repeat, hoping they’ll start to make sense, but if anything their value keeps dropping. What worries me the most, is that I don’t know whether he’s trying to protect me or himself. I don’t know if one is any better than the other.

It’s golden hour when we pull up to the beach. I can hear the music before I even open the car door; a volleyball shoots up over the rows of bushes hiding the party, disappearing and popping back up a moment later.

I don’t really want to be here, but I also don’t want to be the girlfriend who won’t support their boyfriend.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and I nod.

The closer we walk, the clearer the music becomes. Harry’s voice takes over the private beach, and I wonder if they’re playing his entire album or just Golden on repeat.

A good bit of the people drinking and chatting I recognize form the event the other night, but there are still plenty of new faces. I take some fruity drink that was offered to me and down half of it before my feet hit sand.

And so the routine continues. I’m introduced to someone, they compliment me, laugh with Harry, congratulate him on pretty much everything he’s ever done, and then repeat with a new face. I do manage to find Sarah at one point after I’ve detached myself from Harry, and the two of us head for the water.

“Are you feeling okay?” Sarah asks once our toes are wet.

I hold my breath and count to five, finishing whatever the hell I’m drinking before I can answer her. “I’m great.”

“Harry said you weren’t doing too well after the auction?”

“Yes, Harry does a lot of talking with people when I’m not around.”

“Alright, spill it,” Sarah says.

I trace the rim of my glass, flicking my eyes over my shoulder to make sure we’re far away from the party. “It’s stupid, really, I’m just a little...I don’t know...Tom said something the other night that rubbed me the wrong way. And Harry doesn’t seem to care.”

“What did he say?”

“Just something about how Harry needs to have relationships with people who will fuck him up.”

“Ooh,” she nods, seemingly well versed in the statement. “Yeah that’s an Iggy Pop quote. Tom mentioned it in Rolling Stone when he was interviewed.” She sips her drink, eyes growing small over the rim. “It was just a cheap line of advice he gave Harry after he was torn up after his last breakup.”

“Wait, so he actually did say that before? Like before the other night?”

Sarah drifts her eyes up in thought, nodding. “Um hm. After him and Camille broke things off.” She shrugs, and gestures to the party exploding on the beach behind us. “Fine Line.”

I have no idea what I’m feeling. No clue what is coursing through my veins, but it’s not blood anymore. The corners of my jaw tingle until my face starts going numb, my breathing shallow and chest tight.

“You okay?”

“I uh, I gotta go.”

Sarah calls after me but I let my name die in the breeze as I march back to the crowd. It’s nearly dark now, and finding Harry among all his people will take forever. I try to look for him, but I’m so distraught I can’t concentrate long enough to make out faces. I give up and head back to his car, only to find it’s locked. The asphalt is warm on my legs as I lower down to the ground, careless to the dirt I’m getting on my clothes and the scratches on my skin.

I’m not in this position for long. Not long enough, at least. Harry rounds the corner of the bushes, speeding up when he sees me.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He moves to sit down beside me, but I jump up before he can.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Whoa! What!? What’s gotten into you lately?”

“I told you! What Tom said the other night!” I’m yelling, too loud for public, I know. But a small part of me wants someone to hear. I want to disrupt the bubble Harry lives in.

“And I told you that it was just nonsense.”

“And that’s why you’re a liar! Sarah just told me, that he said that to you after you and Camille broke up.”

“Okay...and?”

I inhale as deep as I can. It makes me dizzy, adds to my headache. “And, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? With the knowledge that the only reason you’re even with me, is because I’m gonna fuck you up so bad you’ll get songs out of it?

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “you’re taking this waaay too literally. Trust me.”

“You’re not in a position right now where I even want to trust you.”

“This has gotten completely out of control. I cannot believe you’re this upset over something so stupid.”

“Right there, Harry!” I point at him. “You keep dismissing how I feel! You don’t even care that this upsets me! That I feel like I need to reevaluate our entire relationship!”

“What is there to evaluate!? I haven’t even done anything! You’re blowing up about something that someone else said!”

“But you listened to him!”

“What,” he shrugs, “what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Harry. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” He pauses, swallowing. “Us?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, us. I can’t be with you if—if you’re just waiting around for me to ruin you emotionally.”

“You’re seriously gonna let someone else’s words do this to us? You’d break up with me because of something another person said?”

“Harry, if I break up with you it’s gonna be because of what you’ve done. I don’t care that he said it, I care that you agree to it. And quite frankly, it’s pretty insulting to Camille. You spent a part of your life with that girl, and you just capitalize off of it. I’m not gonna let you do that to me.”

“I’m not capitalizing off of anyone! What the hell am I supposed to write my songs about? I’m just supposed to not date then?”

“It’s the fact that you sought out a relationship in order to fuel your writing.”

“No, y/n, that’s not what I did.” He narrows his eyes at me, and even in the dark I can see his anger. “I sought you out because I was devastated after me and her broke up. You were only supposed to be a rebound.”

I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. The music overhead blurs into noise scraping my eardrum, my vision grows weak and foggy. He wanted to hurt me, and he did.

“I expect a thank you when you release your next album.” I spin on my heel and head towards the main road, yanking my phone from my pocket to call an uber. For the second time tonight, my name trails behind me in the wind. I can hear Harry’s steps pick up, and as fast as I walk, he still catches me.

“Y/n, please, let’s go back to the hotel. You can hate me and not talk to me, but please don’t leave.”

I ignore him, trying to set up my ride. “Where the hell are we?”

He glances at my phone, and I can tell he considers keeping the answer to himself, so he can keep me to himself. He drops his voice, much weaker than before. “Carbon Beach. Canyon road.”

Ten minutes.

“Y/n—”

“I am not interested in discussing this with you.”

“I’m so sorry. I—I was mad and was just trying to win the argument. Whichever way I could.”

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Y/n, please, honey. I don’t want to lose you.” He drags his hands down his face, keeping his palms dug into his eyes. When he lets them drop, there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t lie and say you weren’t, but yes you were a rebound for me, but that went away. Literally weeks after we started dating. I care about you so much. I wouldn’t drag you to every show and event I have if I didn’t. I’m so proud to call you mine. The last thing you are to me is—is just grounds for my writing.”

I stare out across the road. A jeep speeds by and the gush of wind it brings sends chills down my arms.

“Harry, I just...it’s a lot. You’re a lot. Your life is a lot.” I sigh and slowly turn to face him. “It feels like the significance of us being in each other’s lives are so different.”

He kicks a rock across the road, dust flying up around us. “Fuck. Y/n I’m begging—”

“They’re here.” I nod to the headlights approaching us.

“Baby, please.”

“I think I need to be alone right now.” I get in the backseat. “Enjoy your party.”

***

I text him when I’m back at the hotel, having nowhere else to go. I didn’t think my plan of leaving through, because he’ll come back here before the night’s over. But I’m hoping he’ll stay away for a bit, long enough for me to process everything at least.

Deep down I know there’s not as much to the comment as I thought. And Harry’s not that type of guy. But the lack of concern over my feelings...the fact that I was just used as a warm body while he got over Camille...that’s what hurts the most.

There’s a fine line between being sorry because you’ve been called out, and truly being sorry. How sorry can he be when he got what he wanted? Even if I’m not what he envisioned past a few quick fucks, he still comes out on top happy.

I feel like the lifestyle these people live is embedded with secret codes, all of which I’m not wired to pick up on. The money, the mistakes, the adoration... Everything is a lot, and playing catch up is nearly impossible.

I don’t get the alone time I’d wished for. There are curses and clicks of the doorknob right before Harry comes in. He stands at the entrance, staring at me on the lounge chair like he’s unsure if I’m real.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back here.”

“Where else can I go?” I nod to his phone in his hand. “I texted you.”

“I was driving.”

I sigh, flinching when he turns the lights on. “I know you wanna talk, but I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, dropping his keys on a table to come sit beside me. “I’ll talk though.” He inhales, holding his breath for a second before forcing the air out. “I know that me saying I’m sorry means shit to you right now. And to be honest, it probably is coming from me...in a way. You’re right about everything. And whatever you’re feeling, once you figure that out, you’re valid about that too.”

“How would you feel if you were only meant to be temporary in my life? You never mentioned why you were interested in me in the beginning. And no, I never would have gone out with you had I known. I would never want to be someone’s rebound. There’s just something sneaky about that.”

His head drops into his hands, and his shoulders shake right before I hear him cry. “I know, I—I get so caught up in myself sometimes. I’m such a fucking prick.” When he looks up, his eyes are burnt red, glassy and defeated. “I don’t deserve you, and I really don’t deserve anyone.”

“Harry,” I chastise, not expecting the downward spiral he’s ventured onto.

“I swear I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I want to make you happy. I don’t want to be the one to treat you this way. Ever.”

I inhale as deep as I can, holding my breath until it hurts. “I know.” I take his hand in mine. “And I know your heart, and I know you care about me. I—” I sigh, “I’m not comfortable with...just forgetting all of this though. I can forgive you, but I think we need to take a couple steps back. I’ve gotten so swept up in your life and your world, I’m losing my own.”

He nods slowly, accepting my words with a pained face.

“I care about you too.”

He looks up for the first time, catching the last few tears with the back of his hand. “I know you do.”

I offer a small smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes fall closed, and blindly he turns to press his lips to mine. Our kiss is salty and urgent.

“What did you say to everyone when you left?”

He frowns in thought, like the memory is too far away. “Nothing. Jumped in my car and prayed this is where you’d be.”

I take his hand and pull us both to our feet. “We should go to bed. It’s been a long night. Too long.”

We’re quiet and slow as we shed our clothes and brush our teeth, slipping into bed around two a.m.. Harry doesn’t waste a second in pulling me into his warm chest, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug that has me burying my face into his neck.

We lay there, silent, but when I know I don’t have much longer before sleep overcomes me, I kiss his shoulder, whispering how much I love him before I close my eyes.

#ehhhhh #idk #i think i'm ok with writing angst #but struggle with turning it into fluff #i tried tho #requests #requested #harry styles #harry styles writing #cherryyharryy #cherryyharryy writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles ou

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Text

Day 29: Chrome Chassis

“At first we thought she was stalking poor little Mary Franklin,” Donna says in a low voice as she leads them through the precinct. “She knew her entire schedule, what time she woke up, when she went to preschool, when she came home. Her parents even found her waiting at Mary’s favorite spot at the park! By the end of the week, they called the police. We ran her prints and came up with a big goose egg. She had no wallet or ID and wouldn’t tell us her last name - only Abigail.”

“And what makes you think this is our kind of thing?” Dean asks.

“Mary Franklin’s parents had been putting these flyers up all around town,” Donna plucks a wrinkled piece of paper the back pocket of her pants and flips it around to show them.

“REWARD, $100, IF FOUND FOR MISS ABIGAIL,” Cas reads aloud the all-caps red print at the top. Below, the Franklins added a picture of the doll in a stained violet dress, her red hair straggly and knotted from not enough brushings and too much love.

“Miss Abigail, extremely beloved doll wearing a purple dress, is missing. She was last seen at Cyprus Street Park,” Dean finishes reading.

“You think she’s connected to the doll?” Cas asks as he hands the flyer to Dean, who folds it up and tucks it into his suit jacket pocket.

Donna shakes her head. “Come with me.” She opens the door to the hall of holding cells. “This is Abigail.”

“Oh,” Dean says with feeling, his eyes widening.

Abigail looks up at the newcomers. “Are you here to take me to Mary?” she says eagerly as she gets up, the fabric of her grass-stained purple dress swinging around her legs. “I need to be with Mary. She must be so lonely without me. We’ve missed three tea parties already!” She pushes her limp ginger curls out of her face.

Dean squares his shoulders and starts to question the witness.

But Abigail has such a single-minded focus on Mary, none of her answers are useful to the case.

“Well,” Cas says as they make their way to Donna’s office five frustrating minutes later. “It seems like she really is Mary’s doll come to life.”

“Ya think?” Dean says shortly.

“I sensed a strong spell on her,” Cas concludes.

Donna closes the door behind them. “A spell? Does that mean… a witch?”

“Most likely,” Cas says as he studies a photo on Donna’s desk of Donna, Jody, Claire, and Alex.

“Not necessarily,” Dean argues. “Sam and I once posed as teddy bear doctors - don’t ask.” He holds up a hand as Donna’s confused expression turns into one of delighted bewilderment.

“Come on,” Donna says, grinning, “Of course I have to ask now. But maybe later.”

“Later,” Dean agrees, and by his tone of voice he clearly means never. “Anyway, this girl’s teddy bear came to life because of a wishing well - kind of. There was this ancient African coin thingy, and it granted wishes when thrown in a well.”

“A Babylonian chaos coin of Tiamat,” Cas corrects.

“Babylon wasn’t in Africa,” Donna points out with a frown.

“The guy with the coin said his gramps got it -”

“As the only being in this room who actually walked the ancient gardens of Babylon,” Cas says, lips pursing. “I can tell you, the coin must have been Babylonian.”

“Woah,” Donna breathes.

“C'mon like they were really that special,” Dean scoffs. “What, they have a really tall fountain or something?”

“Try dozens of -”

“Okay,” Donna says loudly, glancing between them in amusement. “So you think it might be this Babylonian coin from Africa?”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean shakes his head. “Could be. Has anything else weird happened? A bunch of lottery winners or unexpected trips to Gilligan’s Island?”

Donna shakes her head. “Tim Wheatley won the Butterball last week, but he was facing 60:40 odds.”

Cas squints at her. “What’s a Butter-”

“A butter eating contest,” Donna says brightly.

Cas grimaces. Humans will never cease to baffle him. So complex and, at the same time, simple creatures. When he was human, he enjoyed the consumption of butter and other fats with enough enthusiasm. It satiated his hunger better than carbohydrates or sugars. Not enough enthusiasm, however, to indulge in an eating contest of the stuff. That sounds horrendous.

“So probably not a wishing well. Witch has my bet,” Dean says resolutely.

Donna exhales a short breath. “How do we find a witch?”

“Normally we’d call Rowena,” Dean rubs his chin with the back of his hand, “but since she’s the Queen of Hell now-”

“Shut the front door,” Donna whispers.

“She's a little out of cell range now,” Dean says with a shrug, “but she was our go-to witchy expert.”

Cas throws him a look. “Or you could ask me. Since I am an angel.”

Dean blinks. “Ah, right, I forgot you could do that.”

Cas throws up his hands.

“Is everything alright between you two?” Donna asks hesitantly.

Without looking at her, Dean says, “Yes.”

“No.”

Dean glares at him.

“Aw shucks,” Donna says, her brow furrowing as she leans against her desk. She surveys the two of them thoughtfully, arms crossing over her chest. “What’s going on?”

Dean huffs. “Cas’s all mad that we’re taking a tiny detour on our honeymoon.”

Donna’s mouth falls open.

“An entire case is not a detour!” Cas says heatedly.

“You’re married?” Donna demands in a harsh whisper, her eyes darting down to their left hands.

“As of, like, last week,” Dean says dismissively. “Cas isn’t a legal person, and I’m technically dead, so we kind of fudged it.”

Donna slaps him on the upper arm.

“Hey!”

“First, you don’t invite me to your illegal wedding, and now you’re interrupting your honeymoon with a case?” Donna glares. “You’re starting out this whole marriage thing with a zero for two, bucko.”

Cas smiles smugly at Dean.

Dean makes a face. “People could be in danger. Sue me, I wanted to check it out.”

“I told you to swing by if you were in the area!” Donna protests. “All we have is a weird lady in a holding cell. I was gonna call Jody, but Alex is graduating from nursing school tomorrow.”

“See? This is clearly a low priority case,” Cas says.

Dean makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “You’re officially family now. This is the family business - saving people, hunting things. We can’t just ignore it.”

“No, but you could have passed the message onto a different hunter,” Cas says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, smartass, who should I have called?” Dean asks, eyebrows rising. “Max and Alicia are hunting a shtriga in Florida. Sam and Eileen are scoping out a siren in Maine.”

“I’m sure there are other hunters out there,” Cas says stubbornly. “Was it really too much to ask for a weekend alone with you, without any creatures or minor gods getting in the way? We didn’t do a big ceremony because it would inevitably be interrupted by something supernatural, and we didn’t plan a long honeymoon for that exact same reason. But I thought one weekend -” Cas sighs, shaking his head.

Dean’s expression softens, his posture relaxing. “Of course, babe. I get it.”

“It’s fine,” Cas says, mostly tired of being annoyed.

“I mean, it’s not,” Dean says with a small smile, “But you’ll locate the witch for Donna, and we’ll be back on the road in no time, right?”

“Darn tootin’,” Donna says with a much warmer smile. “I’m a big girl. I can take on a witch by myself.”

Cas nods gratefully. But as he reaches out with his grace, trying to sense anything with power within the city limits, he stops short, a strange tingling sensation starting in his toes and fingertips, crawling inward. As it reaches his heart, his knees give out, and he stumbles in place.

“What the hell?” Dean darts forward to catch Cas with one hand on his upper arm, one palm splayed against his chest.

Cas blinks, his vision blurring. His breath catches in his chest, like all the oxygen had been swiftly and completely eradicated. He sucks in a ragged inhale, and he doesn’t taste the molecules in the air - but instead the smell of half-eaten powdered donut on Donna’s desk and burned coffee from the precinct kitchen next door.

It can’t be.

“I’m human,” he says, his voice faint.

Dean pales as Donna shoots him a worried look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Cas says testily as he squeezes Dean’s arm once and gently eases out of his grip to stand on his own.

“The witch?” Donna asks in a whisper, glancing around, like the witch might be watching them from underneath the deputy’s desk.

“Probably,” Dean says darkly as he pulls open the door. “Okay, we should head back to the motel. Regroup and strategize there.”

But Donna doesn’t move. “Or,” she starts hesitantly.

“Or?” Dean prompts impatiently.

“Or I can bet I can get you a last minute room at the Wild Elk Lodge,” Donna says slyly. “I killed a vamp that was trying to snack on customers, and the manager owes me a big one.”

“But the witch -” Dean starts.

“I said I can deal with it, and I can,” Donna says firmly. “You should enjoy your weekend. You can be, I don’t know, a normal, human couple for once. Doesn’t that sound a like a heckin’ good time?”

Dean bites his lip, turning to Cas.

“It would be a change from our usual routine,” Cas admits. “Could you leave Donna to deal with the witch?”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I don’t trust you -”

“Really?” Donna asks, eyebrows rising. “Because it sounds exactly like that Mr. Hunter Expert.”

Dean sighs. “Look, witches are underhanded, skeezy b - beings,” he says, switching words last second at the look on Donna’s face. “They’re not usually a one-hunter gig, if you catch my drift.”

Donna ushers them out of her office, saying in a low voice, “Well, I’m not going to be the reason you two can’t enjoy your gosh-darned honeymoon. I’ll figure something out. Maybe Doug can lend a hand, or Jody can come up from Sioux Falls. Either way, I don’t want to see you around here for two whole days.”

“But Donna - ”

Cas tunes out Dean’s half-hearted protests as he scans the precinct parking lot. Dean definitely left the Impala in the shadow of that large fir tree. But only cop cars take up the spaces now. Cas leaves Donna and Dean arguing on the steps to stride across the tarmac. “Dean!” he calls, worried. “Do you see the Impala?”

A woman peers around the fir tree, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She breaks out into a wide smile as Cas gets closer. “Cas!” she exclaims as Dean’s shout echoes around the parking lot. “Where the fuck is my car?”

Dean runs up to them, a wild look in his eye. “Who took my baby?”

“Dean,” Cas says, alarmed. It looks like Dean is two shallow breaths away from a panic attack.

The woman rolls her eyes. “I’m right here, sugar.”

“What?” Donna asks.

“What the fuck?” Dean asks.

Cas just stares.

The woman pushes her mane of dark, wild curls out of her face, her full lips curving into a smirk. She runs a hand down her black body-hugging dress and rests one hand on her wide hip. Silver chrome bangles dangle from her wrists, and a matching silver headband keeps the rest of her hair at bay. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like, to be a real human.” She reaches up to fiddle with her silver necklace where a pair of dog tags jingle together. “No chrome chassis holding me together, but real flesh and bone.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dean says faintly.

“You don’t recognize me, Dean?” she asks coyly. “What a shame, since you know me better than anyone.

Cas scowls, his eyes narrowing as he scans her from head to toe. “Dean,” he says quietly, “Her necklace.”

Instead of names, the dogtags bear KAZ 2Y5 and CNK 80Q3.

“Holy moley,” Donna says.

Dean grimaces as the woman takes a drag of her cigarette. “You smoke?”

She shrugs. “I was feeling nostalgic, so sue me. John used to sneak one or two every once in a while after a bad hunt or fight. Calms me down too, now. This is,” she gestures down her body, “a lot.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Dad definitely did that. Christ - I - I have no idea what’s happening. How?”

The Impala shrugs. "You parked me here in the shade so I wouldn't overheat, and I was waiting for you to return, when one second I had four wheels, and the next I had two legs."

Donna laughs. “It’s the spell, dummy.”

“What spell?” the Impala asks curiously.

“The spell that turned that girl’s doll into a real woman,” Donna says eagerly. “The one that turned Cas into a real man, and now you.”

“I don’t get it,” Dean says.

Donna rolls her eyes. “What do you all have in common?”

“We’re human,” Cas supplies.

“Before that,” Donna says, and Cas anyone but Donna would have rolled their eyes at his answer. Instead, Donna beams at all three of them. “You all were loved! It’s like that children’s book. The boy loved the rabbit so much, he made him Real.” She shrugs at Dean’s wide-eyed look. “My niece Wendy couldn’t go to sleep without a good bedtime story.”

“You love me?” the Impala asks, turning to Dean, a pleasantly surprised look on her face.

Dean turns bright red. “I - well, yeah - I - of course I do,” he fumbles. “You’ve always been there for me. ’Course I, um, feel that way.”

Donna smiles indulgently.

Cas’s heart twinges. Just a year ago, Dean needed heavy cajoling and several drinks before he could admit anything of the sort, even to Cas.

The Impala wraps her arms around Dean, and Cas can see his shoulders sagging, how he leans into the hug, the sturdy grip in his arms as he holds on. “This is really weird,” he murmurs.

Cas laughs as the Impala lets go.

“Okay,” Dean says, swallowing and visibly trying to pull himself back together. “What about that hunt? I still don’t like the idea of Donna tackling her first witch solo.”

“A witch?” the Impala echoes, her eyes glimmering with interest. “There really is a hunt here?”

Cas sighs. The car might be as dumb as her owner. He pointedly gestures to her new body.

Donna brightens with a new idea, turning to the Impala. “Do you want to help out on the hunt? Help leave these two lovebirds to their honeymoon while we take care of the big bad witch?”

“Hold on,” Dean steps in, holding up a hand. “She’s not a -”

“I’d love to,” the Impala says loudly over him.

Dean’s jaw clenches. “You’re not a hunter.”

“I’ve been going on hunts since before you were even born,” the Impala says coolly. “I was by your side - and your Daddy's before you - for every werewolf, vampire, ghost, and creepy crawly that goes bump in the night.”

“She has a point,” Cas says.

“Being the getaway car is so different than being in the thick of it, you have no idea -”

“So I’ll teach her,” Donna butts in, a hint of steel to her voice. “She has all the know-how, just not the muscle memory.” She straightens up. “Plus, this witch hasn’t killed anyone yet. This might be a whole big misunderstanding.”

“It doesn’t seem like a particularly deadly spell,” Cas says in a low voice to Dean.

“Awesome,” the Impala breathes.

“Fine,” Dean says, throwing his hands in the air. “I can tell when I’m outvoted.”

“So you’ll go to the lodge for the weekend?” Donna asks hopefully. “They serve complimentary hot chocolate in the morning.”

Dean wavers.

“We’d love to,” Cas says firmly.

Dean throws all three of them a sour look. “How the hell are we supposed to get there without my car?”

The Impala laughs.

#suptober21 #destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #established relationship #canon divergence #sorry for the respost #but the first one was fucked up #spells #rae writes fic

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nagisa-shiota-worthy-shit · 3 years

Text

Tinder Matches

Karmagisa Week 2021, day 1 prompt: Matching wordcount: 1600

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The fact that Nagisa had a tinder account wasn’t something he really shared with anyone. At the time, he’d created it as a joke, a way of amusing his friend’s stupid suggestion. According to Kayano, it truly could be the solution to his lack of experience in the love life department. Nagisa hadn’t been too sure about that. He was more than aware of the application’s status and, no, he wasn’t really interested in finding people to just have sex with.

Yet, somehow, he still found himself swiping through people on the app one night. He was alone in his room, a little bored, and perhaps even a little too tired after a day’s worth of teaching. None of the people he came across really interested him much, although he had to admit that he’d probably give them a shot if he saw them in real life, just because he wanted to believe in the best in people.

This app, however, gave little to no information on someone’s personality. Then again, some people were very clear about looking for someone rich to provide for them, which Nagisa guessed his teacher’s salary wasn’t exactly right for, and he supposed that also said something about their personality and what they were like in a relationship. Nothing Nagisa really wished to deal with.

After swiping left on complete strangers in fear of one secretly being a stalker, murderer, or just having horrible table manners, he suddenly stopped when a familiar face popped up on his screen. the red hair, the golden eyes, that all too familiar smirk. Nagisa recognized exactly who he was seeing, yet somehow couldn't exactly process the idea. it just didn't seem entirely right.

Someone like Karma wouldn't need to use tinder, right?

He found himself staring at the title picture for a while before he realized he could scroll through and see more. it wasn't like he didn't know what karma looked like... but... he sure was curious about what karma was putting out there.

It didn't appear to be all that special at first. A selfie in a casual outfit, a picture of him at a bar with people Nagisa didn't recognize, a traveling picture, but the last picture was something else. This picture appeared professionally taken, or at the very least it wasn't a selfie and the picture was set up. Karma was posing in it, after all. Posing in a suit, the jacket in his hand, thrown over his shoulder as he glanced at the camera with those devilish eyes. Nagisa was nothing but taken back by it.

He shouldn't be staring, should he? This was his close friend and fellow assassin graduate, the staring was just weird. Yet, somehow, he couldn't look away from the picture and thought back to when he’d first met Karma, so many years ago now. He’d felt the same sense of awe back then. Karma was just so perfect, how couldn’t he. This picture, him as an adult looking like a literal model, was like a visual representation of everything Nagisa used to feel Karma was.

The sudden noise of the train passing near his apartment woke him up from his state. suddenly turning very red, he frantically moved his hands and went to swipe left, except his phone nearly fell out of his hands in the process. He caught it, hands all over the screen and, through his own fingers, he could see Karma being swiped right.

no. no nonono. please go back

Nagisa fumbled with his phone, hoping to undo his actions, but before he could do anything, a message popped up on the screen. He was surprised by it to say the least.

‘you've got a match’

A match. He matched. but that meant... Karma had swiped right on him as well?! why would he- probably as a joke. he probably came across nagisa and thought it was funny, right? Nagisa had to assume that was the truth, although deep in his mind a thought echoed around saying the exact opposite. Maybe he wanted it to not be a joke.

After panicking for a hot minute, his phone made a ping sound, indicating he’d gotten a message. He was too scared to look. Somehow, before even opening the message, he could already sense who it was from. Sure enough, once he finally did gather the courage to check the notification, his fears were proven right. This was the worst situation.

Karma: well well well, didnt take you as the tinder type

He considered ignoring it. What was that called again? Ghosting? Yes, he could ghost Karma. If he didn’t respond to the message, perhaps nothing else unfavourable would be happening. Well, Karma would probably mention it to him the next time they spoke in real life. That would probably be even worse. It wasn’t like he could ignore Karma for the rest of his life. It wasn’t like he wanted to.

Nagisa: i'm not

Karma: yet here you are.

Karma: swiping right on me ;)

The cockiness almost oozed out of the message. Nagisa was left frowning at his phone. The main thought going through his mind was that Karma was probably enjoying this. He was a sadist like that. He was having fun while Nagisa wanted to bury himself as deep underground as possible.

Nagisa: you swiped right first!

Nagisa: mine was an accident

Nagisa: I was surprised to see you on here and my phone dropped

Karma: ah, so you wouldn't swipe right on me :( am I too ugly?

Nagisa felt his face grow hot. He probably shouldn't look at his reflection if he wanted to save himself from the image of his head being a tomato. He didn't think karma was ugly. quite the opposite, actually. Not that he could say that. That would be weird. So, he tried to find some middle ground answer, not calling karma ugly or the opposite of that.

Nagisa: I never said that, I just didn't intend to swipe right on someone i'm already friends with.

There, no way that could be taken wrong. He considered sending an additional message, clarifying just how dropping his phone led to the swiping right, but decided against it. It would sound just a little too defensive.

Karma: well,its nice this gives us a chance to talk again anyways. appears youve been too busy to answrr my texts.

An awkward laugh escaped Nagisa as he looked away from his phone, forgetting Karma couldn't actually see his reaction. There was no reason to avoid eye contact when there was no eye contact to begin with. Still, he shared the sentiment. He kind of had forgotten to keep contact with people lately.

He blamed the new workplace. After finishing his days as a trainee, the new school he worked at was surprisingly more demanding. He always knew being a full time teacher was a lot of work, especially now that there was no one to keep an eye on him and remind him of certain teaching specifics of the school he taught at. Of course, the work was rewarding enough for him to barely think about his loss of contacts. He had a habit of treating those too loosely anyways.

Nagisa: ive just been working

Karma: workaholic

Nagisa: you literally have more work hours than me

Karma: and somehow you still spend as much time working as me.

The conversation went on like that for a bit, them going back and forth at each other. Overall, it wasn't a bad time. Nagisa kind of forgot about the actual use of the app, and the fact that he could just DM Karma on line whenever he wanted to, until Karma managed to bring back the conversation to it.

Karma: you know, usually when people match, they try to meet up for a date

Of course Nagisa was aware that that's what the app was for, it was sort of the reason he’d gotten it as well. However, he didn't think anything would lead anywhere for him, let alone with karma. surely karma wasn't being serious. it would be weird to go on a date with your friend.

and still, Nagisa endulged him, being so stupid as to ask further.

Nagisa: where do people even go on tinder dates?

Karma: anywhere they want to, usually just for drinks, easy way to lead them home a little tipsy afterwards

Nagisa: okay that sounds creepy

Karma: if that's not your style I could always take you out for dinner.

Karma: There's this new sushi restaurant near my place, looks like something you'd love.

somehow, he actually considered it. On any other day, that would sound insane to nagisa. Since when would he consider dating karma? Wait, not dating, going on a date with Karma. There was a difference. Sushi did sound great, and so did Karma's company. He supposed he hadn't really been out like that in a while. date or not.

Karma: i can even pick you up, very romantic

The word hit Nagisa a little hard. Romantic. What would that entail? Would they sit opposite of each other, send cute glances, maybe even hold hands beside the table? He wanted his mind to hate the idea of that, doing those things with his friend, ruining the relationship they already had. But, he also wanted to give in, say yes, and see where things would lead. At the very least, he'd have a fun night with good food.

Nagisa: you have a day in mind?

Karma: how's Saturday?

Nagisa: Saturday's fine

Karma: it's a date!

#KarmagisaWeek21 #Karma Akabane #Nagisa Shiota #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #KaruNagi #karmagisa #fanfiction #fanfic #shipweek #anime #manga

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