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#i do like the whole saccharine thing going on with her though
dykeomania · 3 months
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PLS write smut for Hazel from bottoms..I need her so bad I fear..maybe like subtop!hazel..is her having a strap too far..I need her..
this is not. a full fledged fic. but this is the first time in a sec that ive let myself be inspired by an ask. this is weirdly switcher and just pure gay-sexier than it is subby!hazel. lmk if you want things to get subbier, bc i can probably do that. but for rn i have.. this image.. and i want you to walk with me on this but also hold my hand because i'm #supershy,
(minors [including 17 year olds 🙏🏽] dni fr, under the cut: not that proofread. strap lol (r!r), foul language, breeding... language... (my bad) (hazel has a strap tho), subtop!hazel except i could've made this shit so much worse so i guess switch!hazel but like, switch!reader, idk everyone's just a whore. there's an "i love you" (or.. multiple, i guess). there's a mirror. there's a vibrator. purely stream of consciousness, i don't even think the position they're fucking in makes physical sense fr. i was bored and i was thinking, so i wrote a lot. this whole thing is not realistic btw. i have very little confidence that hazel's blowing anyone's back out, but. it's my first day out in a min so i'm rusty. all respect to the community. next time when i pull up, i'll offer something a little more tame and saccharine as opposed to [exaggerated p*rnstar moans!!!]. reblogs and whatnot appreciated.)
so, i have this .. picture.
of you putting a bullet vibe in the pocket of hazel's strap before she fucks you from behind for the first time.
she eventually finds the confidence to blow your back out, and tbh, you think it's gonna end with you seeing stars because you can already hear the fucking lottery machines going off in your head. she's fucking you so well, and hazel's problem is that you're letting her know.
at first she thinks she's going crazy. but those fucking mewls into the pillow over how deep she is, how she's making you feel so good, how you've missed her so much, are sending shocks through her clit that the vibe keeps amplifying, everytime her pelvis hits your ass.
if she thrusts hard enough, which god knows she does, it almost makes her buckle over.
you're left clenching the sheets, and gasping against the linen while she fucks you, taking you in a way that's so uncharacteristically perverse that you don't even have the brain capacity to ask yourself why you didn't ask her to take you like this, sooner. her thrusts are quick and shallow, her words breathy and a little sharp. with every jolt of your body forwards as she experimentally blows your back out, it's like you feel yourself becoming more and more removed from this fucking planet. you can't help but cry -- sob, even -- as she makes you into a mess of limbs, leaving you tugging at your tits in one split second, and gripping at the sheets the next.
something happens, though.
where her hips rut into yours in deep, hard thrusts, spaced out by what feels like eternities, you can hear her. she's moaning now, breath quickening and chest rippling everytime her crotch hits yours at a particular angle. she's mewling, and unless you're hallucinating from how fucked up you are, you can hear her --
"fuck... f--uuh--ck, fuck, fuckfuck..."
-- silently beginning to whimper.
the girl goes from bullying your cunt to burying her strap deep enough in it to make the apex of its curve nudge against your g-spot, in a way that leaves your mouth hanging wide open with nothing spilling out of it maybe other than drool, but...
it's the slick warmth of hazel's back pressed nearly flush against yours and the heat of her breath against your shoulder that makes your eyes flutter open, facing your reflection in the floor-length mirror stationed across from hazel's bed.
hazel's in it so deep, you can't even see the strap anymore. and by no exaggeration, it's like an earthquake pulses through her body everytime she nudges her hips into your ass, making your vision blurry. she's rutting into you. greedily grinding her strap into your cunt in the effort of chasing her own high.
it wasn't a secret that hazel was sensitive. more often than not, the poor girl writhed against your mouth whenever she let you put it on her ("let you" is a loose sentence -- she begs for it, sometimes). you don't even know why you're surprised that your girlfriend is getting this close over having a bullet vibe pressed against her clit, hardly protected by fabric. "b--babe--"
what sounds like a plea, amongst the feeling of hazel's thighs trembling against the back of yours, inspires something sinister inside you.
you wind your hips against her, pressing back against the strap and the toy. the sight of your ass rolling against hazel's pelvis, combined with how good it feels is gonna actually, like, make hazel fucking--
"don't cum."
she loses her breath, entirely, and her rhythm, apparently. she slows, as if that was her body's instinct to obey your orders, despite the string of breaths that tumbles out of her mouth. "n-- wha-- fuck, no, nonono--"
you wind your hips deeper into hers, extracting a moan from your own throat -- fuck, maybe your gut, since that's how deep you could feel her. you press your ass into her until you feel the buzz of the vibe against folds, the frequency of it changing and humming as you press it further into her clit. "y--es," you grit. "don't fucking cum yet, hazel."
the dull, rolling vibrations through the fabric of the strap draw hazel's eyes into the back of her head, and then closed. she's grunting now -- or all of the above -- and she tries her best to unchap her lips, fruitlessly dragging over them. the little breaths she takes through them only brings them back to being puffy, pink, and a gateway of noise that gives evidence to struggle.
"gonna let me count you down?" you puff out your sentence in one breath, and hazel can fucking hear the grin in your still-fucked-out tone and it makes her whine louder.
"yeah? gonna fuckin' let me count you down so you can cum in me, haze?"
cum.. in you. three words that you'd never even fucking uttered to her before this, and that she never fucking thought she would ever hear and.. it looks like she can't complain, because her eyes roll into the back of her head and hazel swears that she -- at least, briefly -- meets jesus christ, "oh my god--," hazel slurs, hips rolling impossibly deeper into yours, it's a miracle she hasn't swabbed your cervix yet -- "ohmygod, oh my god--"
"three..."
ohfuck. ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck. it's the soft chorus that she whispers to herself as she starts to fuck herself into you, again, opting for thrusts as a means of trying to regain control with no consideration for your demise. the vision of her blurs in the mirror, and you feel your fists grasping at her sheets again.
"fuck--" you croak. "t--two.."
she pulls you further into her, and at this point, hazel's okay with being written off as a lost cause, 'cause fuck, it's not like she has a choice. the strap brief is soaked and it's entirely your fault, and god, she throws her head back. a mess of words, a mess of sensations, hazel just blurts, "oh my g--od--i love you--"
you burst out laughing at the random proclamation, admist everything.
she forces her head down to watch you, jaw hung open. and at this point, she's just speaking. rambling and slurring and gasping, tears-in-eyes-in-awe-and-all, as she watches you throw your ass back against her.
"iloveyou so much, you're so f--ucking hot, whatthefuck?--"
there's something weirdly sweet about it. something that makes your cunt clench around the strap in a way that hollows you out shortly thereafter, and lets hazel hit that fucking spot just right. before you know it, you're wherever hazel is, cunt fully creaming around the silicon.
"i love you--" you dumbly spit out a giggle, a gasp causing a steam of spit to cascade off your bottom lip and onto hazel's navy sheets. "babe," you warn. "ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggod, you're gonna make me cu---"
"fuckingsayone," hazel, unbelievably pleads while she unbelievably spears her strap into your cunt. "oh my fucking god, say one, please, please, pleaseplease--"
she starts begging. unprompted. "it's s-so good, it's so, so good, feels so fucking good, wanna c--um in you--" and she probably repeats it. probably repeats that she wants to cum in you until she's blue in the face and,
"o-one--"
until you let her.
the noise that's ripped from hazel's throat is .. embarrassing. virginal, almost. fully reverberates off the walls, and she trembles. her clit convulses against the vibe, twitching with every short stream of her release and she folds. poor girl was holding your hips for something -- for reassurance, to get a grip, dear life, perhaps? as her hips languidly fuck and press into the surface of your ass., rocking your near limp-frame after you've pretty much creamed all over her strap.
hazel hangs over you for god knows how long, dark hair shaggy and some strands stuck to her forehead in wavy wisps. cheeks flushed, and lower lip bitten to hell. the bullet vibe fucking dies, thank god almighty, because god knows she was not in any shape to reach down and turn it off.
she stays like that for a while, until she you feel her again. this time, only gentler, and much more like herself. soft hands caressing the skin of your back, her breath warm and shaky as she peppers a splay of kisses across your skin.
as you come from the surface of your own high, you feel yourself hum. still full of her, and dizzy with it. despite it, you manage -- slurring, slightly.
"haze?"
there's a hum, somewhere.
"did that really feel that good?"
hazel distantly nods, brown locks brushing against your back.
"uh.." hazel frowns, letting out a weak laugh. "y-yeah, honestly."
the mental note gets filed away somewhere deep in the haze of your brain and you grin, when you press your ass one against her just for shits and giggles and hear her gasp, from the sensitivity of it alone.
"that's my girl."
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valeskafics · 10 months
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"Vixen" - Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader
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Summary: Aemond is convinced that you're on a mission to drive him absolutely crazy.
TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, m*sturbation, reader being a menace
Word Count: 3,057 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
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Ever since you and your family returned to King’s Landing from Dragonstone, you have been a thorn in Aemond’s side. You, with those deceptively innocent eyes, with that coy little smile. And today is no different. You’re in that stupid dress that you had sent to you from a tailor in Highgarden, and while it isn’t extremely revealing, it reveals enough to drive Aemond up the wall. Your bare arms, the slightest hint of your cleavage, your neck…
He grips his fork with an almost inhuman intensity as he watches you whisper something in your twin’s ear. Jace, it seems, is not immune to your charms either, judging by the way his cheeks are flushed as your lips brush against his ear. If looks could kill, Jacaerys Velaryon would be six feet beneath the ground by now.
Aemond lets out a low sigh of annoyance, excusing himself and leaving the table, not wishing to subject himself to the sight of you draped around little Lord Strong any longer. Not when it feels like his blood boils whenever he sees you near another man. He goes to the gardens to calm himself, something Helaena suggested to him the first time you irked him this way, though judging by the way she giggled as she said it, she found the whole thing more amusing than anything.
His solitude is interrupted by no one other than you, the very person he was trying to escape. He stares at you, one eyebrow raised, expecting you to speak first.
“Sorry, Uncle,” you say in that saccharine voice of yours, a sweet little smile on your face, “I only wished to go for a walk. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just find somewhere else,” you say, turning away from him.
Aemond watches you as you walk away, the sway of your hips and the curves of your body captivating him. He feels that same uncomfortable stirring in his breeches as he watches you, your figure enticing him to act like some sort of wildling. It’s unfair, in his opinion, why in the world are you so damned distracting?
“Wait,” he calls out, speaking once more when you turn his way, “Stay. I’d like to have a word with you, Niece.”
Your teasing response comes as you continue walking away from him, “No thank you, I’d rather not.”
“Please, I insist,” he takes a step toward you.
He sounds pathetic, he realizes, gritting his teeth in frustration. Why is he so weak to you? Why must he feel so powerless when in your damned presence? And the thing is, he knows that you know it. And you like it, he’s entirely sure.
“My, my, my, Uncle, there’s nothing to get so upset about,” you say, gazing up at him teasingly as he approaches you.
Aemond hisses, “You’re insufferable. It’s almost like you enjoy this.”
You look up at him with those deceptively innocent eyes and speak, “Judging by that tent in your pants, I’d say you quite like it too.”
Aemond feels the heat rising in his face, his clenched fists shaking ever so slightly. Why do you have to be so fucking infuriating?
“Shut up,” he growls under his breath.
Then you giggle, asking him, “Aw, Uncle, you’re all flushed! Are you alright?”
“Do you enjoy tormenting me, little niece?” Aemond demands, his voice quiet and deadly.
“Yes.”
“You’re such a spoiled little brat,” Aemond hisses, moving a few steps closer to you, now practically on top of you as he glares down at you, “What do I have to do to shut that little mouth of yours, hm?”
“Are you asking if you can kiss me to shut me up?” you taunt, making the tips of Aemond’s ears turn bright red.
“What if I did?” he questions evenly, “Would you stop tormenting me if I did?”
“No, I’d simply haunt your dreams instead with the memory of my impossibly soft lips,” you grin, turning away.
Aemond snaps at you, grabbing your hand before you can move too far, cursing himself for noticing how soft your skin is, how small your hand feels against his own, “Don’t turn your back on me, you little brat.”
You glance back over your shoulder and give him a wicked little smile, “You want me so badly it makes you look like an utter fool, Uncle.”
“Shut up,” Aemond seethes, gritting his teeth, “Your voice is as distracting as your appearance, it drives me insane.”
You turn, patting your hand on his chest, the sensation making his heart race before you giggle, “That sounds like a you problem.”
Aemond narrows his eye at you, stepping so close to you that he’s practically on top of you, his gaze furious but also filled with burning desire as he demands, “You think it’s funny to see your kin in such a state of turmoil? You find it amusing?”
You pretend to think for a moment, resting a finger on your chin before speaking, “I find it hilarious, actually.”
“Do you? Really?” Aemond asks, the hint of a growl escaping his lips as he leans in closer to you, “Do you have any idea what you do to me? What you mean to me?” he asks, the heat within him building, so close to you that you can feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear, “Please, little niece, enlighten me.”
“I haven’t a clue,” you say, feigning ignorance.
Aemond scoffs, his hands moving to grip you by the hips, “Is that really true? You don’t have the slightest idea what you do to me? You have absolutely no insight into your effect on my being? No idea how desperately I want you?” he grits his teeth, his voice soft but seething with pent-up anger and desire as he questions, “You have no idea how badly I need you?”
“Like I said,” you lean in to whisper, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you speak, “It’s a you problem,” you wrench yourself from his grip and saunter off, “Good night, kepus.”
Aemond watches you walk away, eyes glued to your form as you move, murmuring to himself in annoyance, “Little vixen.”
He soon leaves for his own chambers after spending more time in the garden. His chambers that are right beside yours, since the gods have chosen to punish him for whatever reason. Aemond doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this torment. That’s when he hears you call his name. At first he thinks he imagined it, but then you call out again.
Aemond gets out of bed, only wearing his sleeping pants, stepping out into the hall. He slowly walks toward your room, curious as to what it is that you want from him, especially this late at night and after you left him alone in the gardens. Your door is closed and he wonders if he should knock, but that’s when he hears you let out the most wanton moan he’s ever heard in his entire life.
She’s trying to drive me mad, he thinks to himself, barely resisting the urge to kick open the door to your chambers.
His pants feel uncomfortably tight at the sound, and for a moment, he wonders if he imagined it, but then, he hears you cry out, “Oh gods, I wish these were his fingers instead of mine…”
Aemond’s forehead rests against the door as he moves his hands inside of his sleeping pants, using both to stroke himself, imagining they’re your soft hands instead. And the way you keep moaning, your breath coming out in short pants…
Is she thinking of me? Her hands between her thighs, imagining they were mine? Aemond wonders to himself as he continues moving his hands along his length.
“Mmm, Aemond, I need you,” he hears you whimper, just barely loud enough for him to hear, “Need you so badly.”
Aemond’s breath comes out low and sharp as he manages to whisper in return, bucking his hips against his hands, his mind feeling like it’s about to explode, “I need you too.”
He hears you let out a mewl of his name, the fact that he can’t see you driving him mad with desire as he spills himself into his hands, imagining he’s spilling himself deep inside you instead. He stands there for a moment, his chest heaving at the thought of what he’s just done, how sinful it is that he heard you like this, that he pleasured himself to the mere sound of you doing the same. You’re a vixen, you’re driving him absolutely insane, he thinks to himself as he begrudgingly walks back to his chambers.
Back in your own chambers, you watch as the shadow of Aemond’s feet move from your doorway, smirking to yourself. He heard you.
Good.
The next morning at breakfast, Aemond sees you, sitting between Jace and Aegon, the picture of innocence as you greet him with that smile on your face, “Good morrow, Uncle.”
“Good morning,” Aemond grumbles, taking the seat opposite you, staring at you in spite of his best efforts not to.
His jaw clenches at the sight of you, his face flushing. Looking at you now, in that ridiculous Dornish dress which you love so much, exposing the bare skin of your shoulders, you look even more alluring. Aemond truly feels like he could die from how badly he wants you. He doesn’t understand this weakness he has for you. It’s almost unbelievable. He needs to get you alone again. 
And then? You turn your attention to Aegon, completely ignoring Aemond, as you giggle and bat your long lashes at his older brother, laughing at his jokes, your hand resting on his forearm. And Aegon eats it up. Truly, Aemond thinks, this must be a masterclass in torture. One minute you’re moaning his name and the next you’re ignoring him completely. You torment him in both situations and he has no idea how to hide it from you that your torture is driving him wild. He watches you and Aegon in a mix of jealousy and anger. You’re enjoying this, you little vixen, he thinks to himself. Every moment you get to tease him is a moment you relish.
Then, you pick a strawberry up from your plate, staring directly at Aemond as you take a bite, the juices from the fruit dribbling down your chin. Aemond feels his heart beating faster as he watches you eat because, dammit, you’re doing it again. His mind grows foggier as he wonders to himself if you’re a witch, because how could any mortal being have this sort of power over him? And then? You use a delicate finger to wipe your chin and lick the finger clean, staring at him all the while. Aemond’s eye widens as you lick your finger, making his mind go places that it has no business going, such as how pretty you’d look on your knees, that cute little tongue poking out as you- No, you’re at breakfast, Aemond. You play him like a fiddle and he knows it. It’s impossible to resist you.
“Are you alright, Uncle?” you ask him in a soft, enticing voice, “You look a bit flushed.”
Aemond’s face goes even redder at your words, and your apparent sixth sense for knowing what he’s thinking about - he wonders how he is supposed to resist as he chokes out, “Y-yes, of course. Fine. Absolutely fine.”
That bloody vixen.
“I can help you to your chambers if you wish,” you offer, a sweet smile playing on those damnable lips, “We don’t want you getting sick.”
“I would appreciate that, little niece,” Aemond replies as you move to stand beside him, his voice a bit breathy as he muses what a natural born seductress you are.
“You can lean against me if you wish,” you offer, your voice oh so innocent, but that wicked little gleam that he’s come to adore so evident to him in your eyes.
His heart beats even faster and he feels his body almost shudder with desire as you offer him your aid. He feels himself grow even harder in his breeches than before, something he thought couldn’t be humanly possible. Gods have mercy on me, what am I to do with you?
Aemond leans against you, “Yes, your support would be greatly-”
He cuts himself off with a gasp as your hand brushes against his thigh, a bit too close to his crotch; you gasp with faux innocence as you bat those lashes of yours at him again, “Oh, sorry, Uncle.”
Gods, what is this little vixen playing at this time?!
The heat within him begins to grow and in truth? It scares him. You assist him to his chambers, giving him a coy smile when you reach his door, telling him to enjoy his rest. He thinks to himself that what you really mean is that he should enjoy his desire for you. You’re being deliberately suggestive just to drive him mad, doing all of this on purpose. Then, you curtsy, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage before turning away to leave. 
Aemond’s heart beats even faster and he stutters out, “I’d like to see you again, little niece. Maybe… Perhaps… You could come visit me in my chambers later on?”
Please say yes…
You turn and look at him, giving him a confused look, one that he knows is entirely fake but can’t help but find adorable, “That would be highly inappropriate, wouldn’t it, Uncle?”
“Why?” he questions, his voice hoarse, raw with desire, “I do not see why it would be.”
He hates himself for being so desperate, but he can’t help it. He just needs you. He curses himself again for the thousandth time, for this overwhelming desire you fuel in him as you respond.
“Well, because you’re a young man, of course. And I’m a young woman,” you say, feigning innocence, “You could have less than honorable intentions. And,” you give him a coy little grin, “I must protect my virtue for my future lord husband, is that not true?”
This sneaky little fox knows exactly what she’s doing, mentioning her future husband…
“Your virtue would be more than safe with me, little niece. You know this, yet you use it as an excuse to torment me,” Aemond snaps, “I see right through you.”
You raise a hand to your mouth in faux shock, “Uncle, why, I have no idea what you could possibly mean-”
“You’re a tease!” he hisses, his face flushing, “You’re always a tease. You know exactly what I mean. You can continue to tease and torment me, I just want you to know that I know what you’re doing.”
You bite your lip, drawing his attention to your mouth as you continue your charade of innocence, “I’m sorry, Uncle, I don’t mean to tease…”
Aemond stares at you, his eye fixed with the intensity of a wolf staring down its prey, or rather, a dragon. Why will you not give him what he wants? Why do you continue to toy with him in this way? You know he desires you, that you control him, and he’s helpless in the face of your beauty. 
“You look like you need some rest, Uncle,” you say sweetly, batting your eyes at him, “Shall I help you to your bed?”
He nods as you do just that, pulling the cover up over him, your hand grazing against his chest for a moment longer than natural. You’re doing it again, he thinks, the power you hold over him is second to none. His breathing grows heavy as he stares up at you. And then you lean over him, pretending to fluff his pillow, your chest just before his face. Aemond’s breath catches in his throat, and he lets out a low groan when you pull back, your hand grazing against the bulge in his pants.
“Oops, so sorry, Uncle.”
He feels himself grow impossibly harder as he pants out, a chill running down his spine, “It’s fine. These little accidents of yours seem to be happening a lot lately, do they not?”
“Hm?” you give him a secretive little smile, “I’m just clumsy, Uncle.”
“Just clumsy?” he repeats, “I would’ve almost thought such ‘clumsiness’ was deliberate by the same little vixen who was just teasing me.”
He watches as you bite your lip again, as though you’re deep in thought. Your lips, your voice, your every movement… No other woman could ever make him feel this way, no one but you could drive him to the brink of madness like this. Aemond is transfixed by the sight of your plush lips, so soft, so enticing…
“What are you thinking about, little niece?” he asks.
“You.”
“Really?” Aemond questions, clearly happy with your answer, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, “What about me?”
“Just that,” you say, twirling a strand of hair in your hand as you giggle, “Well…”
Gods, your laugh, that giggle alone is enough to nearly push him over the edge as he prods, “Oh? Go on. What about me? Be specific.”
You hum slightly, taking a seat at the edge of his bed, gazing at him, “I was just wondering if what your chambermaid said was true.”
Aemond leans forward, his eye fixed on your lips, as he asks, “What did she say?”
“She said that you’re very,” you look at him, pretending to be shy and unable to meet his gaze as you speak, “I can’t say it.”
His breathing becomes even more ragged as he stares at your lips, whispering, “Say it.”
“She said you’re very,” you lean forward, your lips nearly brushing against his own as you whisper, “Well-endowed.”
Aemond’s eye goes wide and he feels what is almost an electric shock go up his spine as your lips nearly brush against his, his length painfully hard as he stares at you. He’s silent for a long moment and so are you, the two of you just staring at each other, eyes ablaze with desire, breathing heavy, until he breaks the silence. 
“Would you like to see for yourself, little niece?”
You look up at him, your voice a breathy whisper as you respond, “Yes, kepus. I would.”
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seratopia · 9 months
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miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - soft → she/her pronouns!
the first time miguel says "i love you." based off this beautiful artwork
A feeling in Miguel's chest has been welling up like a dam on the verge of overflowing. His heart feels so full lately, almost bursting at the seams with a sensation so sweetly saccharine and warm at the same time.
Yet, it's familiar.
It's been so long since he's felt this. Like a starved man in front of a platter of food, Miguel wants nothing more to spoil himself with your affections. Now, whenever he thinks about you, it's in a lens of adoration and infatuation, so bright and almost tinted with pink.
He thinks he loves you, the way he always wonders how you feel, the way butterflies always flutter around his heart when you kiss him, the way his hands were always meant to be on your skin.
Ever since Miguel realized that he loves you, he didn't know what to do with himself. He wants to tell you so bad, to show you how much you mean to him. Every time he tries to vocalize his feelings, he's left with his mouth agape with no voice in his throat. He's utterly speechless, clueless on how to say it.
"My love, are you okay?" You always ask him, trailing your little hand over his chest.
He coughs a little, blinking his eyes a bit. "Yeah honey, I'm fine."
He doesn't know who to ask, or if he should ask at all on what to do. Miguel despises being lost, he hates not knowing things that seem so simple and casual.
Normally, the person he'd ask for anything would he you, but obviously he couldn't do that without spilling his heart out onto the floor for you. You've made him too opaque with love.
What he does know though, is that an "I love you." should come out naturally.
It happens when Miguel least expects; a call.
He got a little lonely, left all alone to do ugly work and missions at the office while you got to lounge on your off day. He misses you a little too much; the ghost of your touch and scent lingering nearby as if you were actually there.
Everything he could be doing right now could be with you, but Miguel pouts. You should be spending time with him instead, letting him touch you and kiss you and feed you. Instead, you're out on your off-day, out into Nueva York enjoying yourself.
At first, he thinks about just waiting until you come back to work so that he can take you home. But, then he remembers that you'll be, "gone until 7" so that plan was out the window.
Your off-days to him were both a blessing and a curse; you get the break you rightfully deserve, but Miguel has to go a whole day without you. (How tragic.)
It's moments like these that really make Miguel realize that he loves you. He longs for you, even when you'll only be gone for less than a day.
If the plan to wait is out the window, then Miguel thinks that the best he can do is just call you. Hearing your voice through a low-quality mic is enough to send him miles, or at least until you come back.
He leans his arms against his desk for a moment, gazing at the watch on his wrist as if it'll give him an answer to whether or not he should call you. Is he being too clingy? Did you want some time alone?
Miguel supposes, that a short call would suffice. He'll call you quickly to say hi, and then he'll leave you to your devices. You won't even have to worry about tending to him.
It takes him a moment, but eventually, he presses that call button. Once the dial starts to ring, Miguel's heart rate rises. He almost doesn't know why he gets so nervous around you, but he knows you wouldn't mind.
"Hi hun. You need something?" You greet, and Miguel nearly bites down a sigh from how heavenly your voice sounds.
I need you. Miguel thinks, but he just can't bring himself to say it.
You can recognize the specific way Miguel's voice gets when he talks with you; gentler and airier. It's sweet.
"Hi, sweetie..." Miguel sighs, his cheek against his arm as he starts into the watch. "...I just miss you, that's all."
The way you chuckle is delightful, Miguel subconsciously smiling to himself. It makes him giddy, and something in his heart starts to grow.
"Awww, Miguelito. I miss you too." You say, warmth blooming on Miguel's face.
"Where are you?"
"I'm in line getting dinner right now, at Anton's. Do you want anything? I know you like the fried plantains they have."
Miguel gets excited, happily dreaming about sitting down at home to eat with you, just so he could stare at you the entire time.
"Can we share?" Miguel asks. "Get the plantains too."
"Of course, honey."
It sounds like you're listing your order the way he could still hear your voice, muffled and faraway from the mic. He waits the whole time, hearing your polite laughs and thanks from afar.
Miguel thinks back to the first time you went to Anton's together, after you had recommended it to him. Comforting food with his most favorite person was a memory imprinted in his mind, fluffy and raw with love.
He hears a bit more shuffling from the other end, and it appears as though you've taken a seat somewhere to wait.
"I'm back-"
"I think I love you."
Miguel's mind almost goes blank, sheer emotion guiding his voice to spill those sacred words.
"..."
A deadly chill runs up Miguel's spine, his heartbeat quickening and his face blanching when all he can hear from the other end is silence. It extends for only a few seconds, but to Miguel, it's more of three years long.
Instantly, Miguel starts to regret it, a choking, terrible feeling soaking his mind like water traveling up a napkin. He was too forward, too ubrupt-
"Really?"
Miguel virtually chokes on thin air when he hears your voice, hesitant yet hopeful.
"Yeah." Is all he can really say in the moment. He's walking on eggshells with you, near bending over backwards so that he can preserve what love he has left from you.
There's a moment of suspenseful silence, and Miguel almost starts to sweat from how on edge he is.
"Well, I love you too, Miguel."
The biggest, fattest weight is thrown off Miguel's chest, like a dam being burst open. Adoration swells in Miguel's eyes, and a smile creeps up onto his face. You love him!
Though, something in Miguel tells him that he always knew.
"Can you... say it again?" Miguel mutters, still a little embarrassed from the whole ordeal.
His request makes you smile. He's such a boy.
"I love you, Miguelito."
Miguel wants to scream when you finally tell him, resisting every urge to just flip his desk over right then and there. There's an angry blush on his face, and his heart skips a few beats. You're perfect.
"Oh my god, honey, say it again. Please." Miguel sighs, tucking his face into his forearm.
You giggle a little. "Miguel, I have to pick up the food! I'll tell you all you want when I get back, m'kay?"
"...M'kay." Miguel pouts, excitement already building up at the thought of being able to hear your love for him in person. It makes him nervous, a little light to the head at the thought.
"Love you, bye."
Before Miguel has a chance to say anything, you hang up the call, and he's left alone. He's speechless.
Reality slowly starts to trickle in, and Miguel realizes his adorable accomplishment. After nearly a month of holding back his feelings, he finally was able to tell you in person.
It feels amazing, almost like he broke a barrier in your relationship. With Miguel at the peak of the mountain, it's all downhill from here.
He promises to himself that he'll practice telling you how he feels, now that he knows you feel the exact same way. It should get easier over time, he thinks, fantasized about the sweetness, the domesticity of it all.
He's never been more excited to get you back home, eager to smother you with his hands and eat sweet plantains with you.
Miguel's aware he doesn't know how to share his feelings as easily as you do...
but he's working on it.
if anyone is wondering, yes, i switched accounts from my old one, @cosmosis, all of my writings will continue on this blog
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© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.
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luveline · 9 months
Note
hi! i know ur not from the us so pls feel free to ignore this but i think a kbd fic where steve and the girls are doing sparklers for the fourth of july would be so cute! absolutely adore everything u post 🫶🏻
thank u!! sorry i know it isn't the fourth anymore bit I hope u enjoy regardless!! kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader show their daughters how to use sparklers for the first time, 2k
Steve isn't a huge fan of fireworks because of how dangerous they can be, but sparklers are just fine in his book. He buys a box of thirty. The girls can do ten each if they feel like it, though he knows Dove won't be interested, and he guesses Bethie will be too scared to hold them. 
Still, he hopes. You're hosting a banquet of food when he arrives, a mixture of things you made and stuff he prepared yesterday. It's a feast of hotdogs and burgers, cupcakes and donuts, macaroni and cheese and chilli with white rice. The table is crammed with plates and the radio is on, playing fun pop music a little too loudly for Dove's taste, her hands over her ears.
You turn down the radio, and ask her where she sits on your hip, "Is that better, sweetheart?" 
"Hey," he says, putting the box of sparklers on the counter. 
"Hey, Stevie," you say, in a rare tone. You always talk to him with love but he adores how you say his name now, like you've never been happier to see him in your entire life. "They had some?"
"Lucky, right? Guess I'm not the only schmuck who forgot to buy some." 
Avery rushes for his legs, a chocolate donut in one hand and a cup of juice in the other. Despite her luggage, she expects to be picked up. Steve grabs her. 
"You're cold, dad," she says. 
"Really? It's not cold out," he says. 
"You need something to warm you up." 
Steve raises his eyebrows. "Sure I do. Give me a hug, but don't get icing in my hair, please." 
Avery hugs him, sticky cheek pressing into his as her arms strain around him. He pats her back, meeting your eyes and returning your happy smile. Steve turns on the spot to see Bethie practically elbow deep in a bowl of chilli. She loves anything that comes with rice, and she eats it like someone's going to take it away from her, chilli staining her lips and cheeks, a grain of rice stuck to her chin.
"Did you get a photo of that?" he asks. 
"Of course I did," you laugh, putting Dove down to brace yourself against the counter. You stretch your neck in a tight circle. 
"Thank you. Beth, that looks so nice! Are you saving any for me?" 
"No!" she says happily, smiling wide as an ocean. 
"Good girl. Alright, you tell me when you're finished, I have something fun for after dinner." 
Dinner gets put on pause. You wipe Bethie's face clean, giggling the whole time and telling her how cute she is in your saccharine mommy voice that melts her, "We should have that more often, huh?" It's always a good day when Bethie eats well.
Steve helps Avery put her shoes on and together they step out into the backyard. It's small considering the house is a four bedroom, but maybe that's why you'd been able to afford it in the first place. You work with what space you have. There's a light wood fence, the perimeter half lined by pansies and the other side with a slim shed full of their bikes and scooters and a small bed where the girls attempted to grow strawberries last year. They didn't take, but Steve has hope for this summer. 
The yard is clean though slightly neglected, and Steve has to work spider duty before Avery will agree to step off of the doorjam. You follow soon, Dove at your shins, Bethie cautious as she steps out in her socks behind you.
"Where's your shoes?" Steve asks her. 
"I told her she didn't have to wear them," you say. "She says they're pinching her toes." 
Steve had Beth's feet measured specifically to avoid that. He assumes it isn't pinching so much as not wanting to wear them. He shrugs. "Okay. Stay on the stones then, Beth, I don't know what's in the grass. You might step on a snail." 
"Ew," she says, sitting down in the doorway.
Steve lights a sparkler for no one first of all, wondering how each girl will react. He hands it to you as the sparks jump to life, white and bright in the shade of the garden, the shadow of their house. You wave it around gently, but when each of your daughters gasps in unhappy shock, you hold your hand under the sparkler and let a spark kiss your palm. 
"They aren't dangerous," you promise. You wave it into a heart, a star, the letter A. "Does anyone wanna try?" 
"Me!" Avery shouts, holding out her hand. The sparkler burns remarkably quickly down to the stem.
"Dad will give you a new one. Hey, baby?" you put the sparkler down on the glass patio table as it sputters out. "Don't you have those gardening gloves?" 
Soon, Steve's outfitted each girl in a glove too big for their hand. He passes Avery a sparkler, and her bravery and subsequent joy prompts some jealousy in Bethie, fighting her fear to take one too. You crouch down to stand with her as she waves it around, her eyes like saucers as white sparks fly. 
"It's so pretty!" you say. 
Dove is interested, but not in holding one. Steve picks her up and lights a sparkler, raising it away from her curious hands to draw her name. Avery squeaks with happiness and proclaims it as magic. "Dad, I'm a fairy!" 
"I can see! Try not to put it by your hair, okay?" 
She squeals some more until it dies in her hand. "Can I have another one?" 
"Ooh," you coo, watching with pride as Bethie draws a circle with hers, "my girl's brave today, I'm super proud of you. Isn't this fun?"
Steve lights another one for Avery and gives Dove a loving kiss, thrilled to see them all this happy. He's really surprised Bethie's enjoying herself, but he supposes it would be hard for her to have a bad time with your hands on her shoulders, your encouragement soft and shining as angora silk. 
They must use up four or five each like that. 
"Daddy," Dove says, imploring as she touches his face. 
"What?" he asks, thinking of tacking 'my little princess' on the end but withholding. Lately every sentence he says has a pet name squeezed in the middle. He has a lot of love to give. 
She looks at him. He pats her small back, wondering if she's going to bless him with a sentence or two. She's old enough now to be talking, but she's quiet like Bethie most of the time. Or, she's not talkative —Dove is far from quiet. 
"Hotdog, please."
Steve laughs loudly. "You want me to make you a hotdog?" 
"And ketchup." 
"Yeah, I can make you a hotdog. You don't want to stay for another sparkler?" he asks. 
"No." 
He laughs again, pressing another kiss overtop the first one he'd laid on her chubby cheek. "Thank you for saying please, sweetheart. You're such a good girl." 
"Can I have a hotdog, too?" Avery asks.
"Sure you can, whatever you want. Beth? Mom?" 
You've sat down on the floor. You're probably cold, but your smile would never show it. "I think me and Bethie are going to have another helping of chilli and rice, aren't we?" you ask hopefully. 
Bethie's sparkler fizzles out. "Can we do more sparklers again?" 
"Yeah. Tell you what, let's go back inside for food and when everyone's full, we'll come outside and do some more before bed. Sound good?" 
The girls head inside, and Steve makes some hotdogs on the stove. Dove falls asleep with a bun in her hand, Bethie with her cheeks painted in sauce. Avery doesn't tire so easily, and while the others sleep, you and Steve take her out to the back door to light another sparkler. You write your names, you draw clumsy constellations. Steve writes 'I love
Avery,' grinning as she sounds out each letter. 
Avery relishes in the delight of having your unfettered attention. She stays up for hours after her sisters with you and Steve, long enough to watch stray fireworks shoot up into the sky over your backyard, her head on your shoulder, her hand in Steve's hand. 
"This is the best day ever," she says. 
Steve wants to cry. Genuinely. He meets your eyes over Avery's head, and you shuffle closer to her without speaking, enveloping her in a hug from either side. 
"Every day is the best day ever with you around, Ave," Steve says. 
"The best. Me and dad tried some fireworks, when you weren't born." Steve and Avery look at you with mirrored interest. He doesn't remember what story you're going to tell. "You would've been very small in me at the time," you say, looking up as a pink and white firework blossoms across the night sky like a peony. "Like a strawberry seed. We… didn't know you were coming. I knew. I knew, but I didn't know. I could feel you right here," —you point at your stomach— "but I had no idea what you were going to be." 
"Hey, you're right," Steve says. He forgets you were pregnant before you knew it. 
"But me and dad lived together already," you say. "We were always going to get married and have babies and stuff, but you came really quickly. You were excited." 
Steve grins. Avery hangs on your every word. 
"But anyway, me and dad lived together. Not here, but somewhere, and we didn't have a yard but there was a little patch of grass and we figured we'd buy some, but he burned a stripe of my arm hair off by accident with a long lighter, and the we didn't have a fence to nail the Catherine wheel down, and he accidentally dropped the firecracker box on the way home so it didn't work anymore, and the rockets wouldn't light." 
"Oh, no," Avery says. "You didn't have any fireworks?" 
"None. But we had a pack of sparklers. We did it just like we did with you. I wrote 'I love Stevie' in big letters, and your dad tried to hug me and jabbed me in the stomach with his burned up one." 
"Your hoodie," Steve remembers finally. "Your white hoodie, I bought it for you the week before at the mall after you threw up in Dairy Queen. I remember." 
"I had it for a week, and he got this huge ash smudge on it." 
"But you wouldn't let me wash it with bleach." 
You give Avery a kiss on the top of her head. "I wanted to remember how happy we were. I thought the smudge was a nice reminder. Turns out I got much more than a smudge." 
"You got me," Avery decodes.
"We got you," you say. "You're a thousand different things, Avery. You're smart, and kind, and pretty, and you're also a really good reminder that your dad loves me." 
"Do you need a reminder?" Steve asks, genuinely worried, and kind of in awe. How you can sit there and say something that romantic off the cuff is beyond him. He really might cry soon. 
"No," you say smugly. "You tell me all the time." 
Not enough, he decides. After this, he'll be sure to tell you more. 
Steve falls in love with you for the thousandth time.
"What I'm trying to tell you, Ave, is that dad is right. Every day with you in it is a really good day. I love you so much," you start to fizzle, which is to say your voice gets tight. You won't cry, but Steve teeters. "I'm really, really happy you had the best day ever, 'cos you make every day the best for dad and your sisters and me." 
"Really?" Avery asks softly. 
"Really," Steve says, rubbing the space between her shoulders. 
A rocket squeals into the air and fractures into a ring of spectral colours. 
Avery climbs onto her feet, and, torn between who to hug, wraps an arm around both of your necks. 
Steve wraps his arms around you both, squeezing your hip. He's gotten used to being loved, to feeling it, but tonight might be an all time high. Sparklers become a Harrington tradition that year. 
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slut4thebroken · 1 month
Note
Hear me out: Dominant Neil Lewis saying this to his best friend “I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Because Neil is so the type who hates it when someone’s attention isn’t on him like he’s possessive and desperate for it.
Barely proofread lol but enjoy <3
I’m trying to get better at being able to post fics that don’t have a difinitive start and end lol. That’s the main reason it takes me so long to write :,)
“Dude, you look like you’re gonna blow a blood vessel or something.” Lucian said, making Neil huff. 
“She’s letting some random dickhead feel her up!” He said defensively, throwing his arms around in a wild gesture at the appalling sight. 
“She’s a grown adult… She can do what she wants.” Jonathan spoke carefully, not wanting to set him off even more. “And he’s barely even touched her..” 
“You know what? If she’s gonna act so careless, it’s only right that I look out for her.” He said, now sounding more determined than angry. 
“Neil… don’t do something stupid.” Lucien’s warning fell on deaf ears though. 
“He’s definitely gonna do something stupid..” Jonathan said to the other man just as Neil started storming over. 
“Finding everything okay?” He gritted with a forced smile, practically glaring daggers at the douchebag who thought he could come into his store and touch his friend like some fucking pervert. 
“Yeah, man. Thanks…” He replied, sounding a little confused. You gave Neil a questioning look, but he ignored it and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “Oh.. Sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He said to you, his tone almost making Neil feel guilty because the man genuinely seemed like he felt bad about this whole thing. 
“I don’t.” You said in a low voice, looking up at Neil and glaring at him.
“Yeah well she’s not interested in dating right now anyway.” He said definitively, making your eyes narrow even more. 
“Yes I am.”
“You’re not even her type.” That made you scoff, even though.. he was technically correct. “If you’re not planning on renting a movie you can see yourself out.” Neil said sweetly, giving the man a saccharine smile. 
“Uh… okay then.” He said awkwardly, giving you another look before finally walking out. 
“What the fuck was that?” You hissed, gently elbowing him in the stomach to get him off of you. 
“Sexual harassment is not tolerated at Gumshoe Video.” You stared at him for a moment, trying to read his tone, but you quickly realized that he wasn’t joking. 
“You can’t be serious.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“He’s not even your type anyway, I don’t get why you were talking to him in the first place.” 
“It’s called making a friend. If you tried that every once in a while, you might have more friends than just the three people in this room.” You were quickly getting more frustrated and annoyed with him. 
“That’s what friendship is? So I can start feeling you up then?” You rolled your eyes at his immature response. 
“God- Neil, you can’t keep doing this!”
“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” He said in a low voice as he took a step closer, bringing a light blush to your cheeks.
“We’ve been over this,” You sighed. 
“Yeah, we have. And yet you seem to keep forgetting.” He snarked. Knowing this conversation wasn’t going to get you anywhere, you rolled your eyes and walked over to flop down onto the couch next to Jonathan. He gave you an apologetic smile and you laughed quietly in response. Honestly you were surprised Neil didn't have a problem with you interacting with his friends. Maybe he just knew that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and make a move on you. 
“You're welcome by the way, for saving you from that creep.” He called out, making you roll your eyes again with an exaggerated huff. You’re not going to ever admit it because he’d start using it as an excuse for acting like this, but you were a little uncomfortable with the way that guy was touching you. Sure it was a playful hand on your shoulder, but you felt embarrassed and awkward, especially because you could practically feel Neil’s eyes on you throughout the whole interaction. 
“I was fine.” You grumbled, sinking into the couch a little and sulking. Truthfully, you kind of liked his protective nature. It made you feel wanted. But the longer this went on, the stronger that feeling became, making him even more overbearing to the point where you wondered if you’d ever actually be able to get a boyfriend while you were still friends with Neil. 
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19crimes · 1 year
Text
don't you know that you're toxic?
based on an ask from my wonderful 💄 anon:
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CW: possessive jack, sex without a condom, jealousy, whore-like behaviour from both participants, husband jack
Five days.
It had been five whole days.
120 hours.
7,200 minutes.
432,000 seconds.
A probably absurd number of milliseconds.
That's how long it had been since you had had sex with your husband.
When you complained to your best friend, who was perpetually single, she glared at you, reminding you it had been 14 months since she had gotten laid.
She was used to it, you reasoned. This was her life, and her pussy had probably accepted its fate, like an old person in a hospice waiting to die.
You didn't say that to her, you didn't want to be sexually frustrated and dead.
Although mind you, at the rate things were going, you weren't sure which was worse.
You and Jack had argued. it wasn't serious, it never was. However, it was a case of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object; you wanted things your way and you weren't about to back down. Unfortunately, neither was Jack, and he also knew exactly how to exploit your weaknesses.
He had towered over you, brow furrowed in annoyance, arms crossed over his chest. Your reptile brain noticed how his biceps bulged against the fabric of his t-shirt and played out a scenario of him supplexing you like a WWE wrestler.
"You just can't keep your goddamn mouth shut can you?" he had asked, irritation bleeding into his voice. "Would it kill you to back down for once in your life?"
"Yeah, i guess it would." you spat back, mirroring his stance.
He unfolded his arms, reaching out to rub his thumb over your lower lip. "We'll see how that attitude holds up when i won't fuck you anymore."
You had rolled your eyes, having little faith in his threat.
Five days later, you were seriously regretting your bravado.
You had been so sure sure he would give in almost immediately, but his will appeared to be holding strong.
So it was time to play dirty.
Was it fair?
No. but neither was he.
You checked your lipgloss in the mirror above the driver's seat, satisfied how it made your lips look glossy and freshly kissed. You climbed carefully out of the car, pulling down the hem of your skirt to cover your thighs. The skirt was dangerously short, and combined with the sky-high satin heels you wore, you were dressed to kill.
You made your way into the studio, breezing past the receptionist with a quick "hi!".
Outside the door to Jack's studio you paused, gathering yourself. You had one shot at this, and you needed to hit hard.
Pushing the door open, you stepped into the room. Jack stood with his back to you, broad shoulders hunched as he listened intently to a beat. You snuck towards him, alerting him to your presence by pressing your hand against his lower back.
He jumped slightly, face resolving into a smile when he saw you.
That smile quickly faded when his glance ran down your body, taking in the expanse of your bare legs, the way the top you were wearing made your tits look incredible.
His hand formed a tight noose around your wrist, fingers pressed against the skin.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level.
"Just thought i'd come see how you were doing, sweetie." your voice was saccharine, your smile daring him to call you out.
He just nodded, pulling you in for a hug. his body was a tightly drawn bowstring, tension coiled and ready to snap. you snuggled against him, pressing your thigh in between his legs.
"Oops, sorry." you whispered, even though you were anything but. You pulled away, leaning past him to wave at the others who were dotted around the large open space. You saw how one of the sound tech's eyes lingered on you, knowing that Jack also saw it by how his fingers dug into your back.
"Don't let me disturb you honey, i'll keep myself entertained." you smiled, slipping out from Jack's grip.
You felt him watching you walk away, swinging your hips, your skirt riding up with each step. You sat on the couch, looking down at your phone to try and hide your grin.
You forced yourself to not look up when you felt the weight of him settling onto the couch beside you. His hand rested higher on your thigh than was strictly decent, his long fingers drumming a beat against your flesh. His other arm was slung behind his head, the epitome of faux casual.
"Coming to visit me in the middle of the day?" he murmured.
"What, am I not allowed to come see my husband?"
"'Course you are. 'M just surprised is all."
You forced a yawn, stretching your hands above your head. the motion caused your tits to strain against your shirt, nipples prominent through the thin material.
Jack's hand slid another inch higher on your leg. You swore you could hear his teeth grinding together and you stifled a smile.
"Especially dressed like that." he continued, eyes fixated on your chest.
"You don't like it?" you pouted, eyes wide, a perfect picture of sadness.
"I didn't say that now, just wondering what I did to deserve it."
"I just wanted to feel good." you shrugged again. "Haven't been feeling myself these last few days."
"Yeah? I didn't know that, baby." 
"It's okay, I have a feeling I'm gonna feel a whole lot better today." You smiled, leaning over to kiss his nose as you stood up from the couch. Jack's confused expression made you giggle. He really had no idea what awaited him. 
You wandered over to one of the nearby sound techs, the one who had taken a particular interest in you earlier. He glanced up as you approached, a small field mouse in the sights of a ravenous street cat. 
"You working on anything fun?" You asked, touching his shoulder lightly and trying to not grimace at how damp his shirt was beneath your hand.
He launched into a saga about a new beat, eyes flickering anxiously towards Jack every few seconds. You weren't really listening, his tirade of complex industry terms intended to impress you instead just bored you. But it didn't matter, because this man was just a pawn, a piece you were weaponising in the tireless game you played with Jack. 
You nodded intently, hoping you were at least nodding at the appropriate times, and rested your forearms on the side table. You arched your back as you did it, making sure Jack got a full view of your bare pussy, freshly waxed and glistening with how wet this game was making you. 
The bitten off groan behind you meant your play had been successful. You wriggled your hips, trying to see how far you could push it. 
"Out." 
Jack's voice cut through the hum of conversation and drone of electronics in the studio. Heads swivelled to look at him, the sound tech falling silent as he watched Jack fearfully. 
"All of y'all need to get out. I don't care where you go or what you do but you need to leave." 
There was confused silence. 
"I'm serious, go have lunch or go home, or do whatever the fuck you want so long as it's not here." 
You pushed yourself up from the desk and were met with resistance. Jack's hand crept under the hem of your shirt to lay flat against your back, his touch warm and familiar as he held you in place. From where you were, you could only hear, not see, people shuffling around for their possessions and filing out of the room. The sound tech beside you was the first to leave, bolting out the door without even bringing his jacket. You were flushed with embarrassment, aware that the position you were in was less than decent. There was nothing subtle about Jack's intentions. 
At last you heard the door swing shut, a resounding thud that was loud in the now quiet room. 
"What was-" 
"Nope." Jack interrupted you, crowding up to press against your ass. "You don't get to talk." 
"Why not?" 
"You really wanna play dumb with me? And here I thought you were a smart girl." 
"I am a smart girl." you huffed, pushing back against his erection. 
"How come you don't act like one then? You come in here, to my studio, dressed like a whore so everyone can see what's mine? You think that's something smart girls do?" Jack's voice was deep, raspy with arousal. He could pretend he wasn't affected but you could feel how hard his fingers dug into your hips, how he was struggling to not grind on you like a teenager. 
"Well you've been happy to ignore me the last five days so I didn't think you'd care what I did." You shot back, annoyed now. When you had planned this encounter in your mind, Jack had immediately dragged you off to the bathroom you two usually frequented, and fucked you without any questions. Instead, he was stretching out this power play even longer, like the sadist he was. 
"That's what this is about, huh? You think the past five days haven't been hell for me too?" Jack took his hands off you to pull his sweatpants down to mid thigh. He shoved his foot in between yours, toeing your legs further apart so he could nudge the head of his cock against you. 
You couldn't help it, you groaned like a whore when you felt him, felt the heavy weight settled against you just millimetres from where you so desperately needed him. 
"Aww there's my needy girl, you've been hurting bad huh? Been struggling without me?" 
You tried to press against him, slipping him inside you, but his grip held you firmly in place. You weren't going to get what you wanted without playing nice. 
"Yes, okay, yes I have been." You said hurriedly through gritted teeth. "Now can you please just-"
You squealed as he entered you, thick girth stretching you in a way that was far from unpleasant. 
He bottomed out with a grunt, hips against your ass. "That better?"
"Much." you exhaled shakily, nails scrabbling for purchase against the polished wooden surface beneath you. 
"Good girl." Jack muttered, pulling out until just the head remained inside you, then thrusting back when you whined. The table creaked under the force of his thrusts, a bright melody that underscored your wanton moans. He grabbed the tangle of your hair, wrapping it around his fist and pulling you back against his chest. His nose nuzzled the scape of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the delicate skin. 
"Even got a wax for me, hm? Can't wait to go down on you later on, missed your taste." Jack's words were garbled against your flesh, sandwiched between tiny kisses and licks. 
His voice drove you crazy, that deep baritone sending shivers down your spine. He felt you shudder and snaked one hand downwards to rub your clit. The pleasure was exquisite, the relentless force of him moving inside you, the tight circles of molten pleasure that seemed to drip out of your very soul. Feeling yourself getting close, you twisted your head, catching Jack's lips and frantically kissing him. It was a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, his beard scratching you. 
You came in his arms, your body jerking with the force of it, a high pitched wail escaping your mouth. Jack's pace faltered slightly, the sensation of you cumming around him was almost too much to bear. He bit his lip, forcing himself to hold off. 
Once he was sure you weren't going to collapse in his arms, he allowed himself to cum too, biting down hard on your shoulder as he moaned. His dick twitched as he emptied five days worth of cum inside you, his orgasm seeming endless as he held you tight in his arms. 
When he pulled out with a shaky exhale it was like opening a dam. His cum leaked down your thighs, pearly white streaks that were visible even from a distance. Jack leaned back to admire his handiwork, trailing a finger through the sticky mess. You took his hand, sucking his finger clean with a 'pop'. 
"Truce?" You asked, giggling at his dopey expression, eyes hooded. 
Jack looked like all the tension had finally left his body, the tightly wound micro-manager persona dissipating into the ether. He pulled you close, kissing the top of your head as he tucked you under his chin. 
"Truce." 
973 notes · View notes
gangplanksorenji · 1 year
Text
Good _arts (When everything feels lost but I am—)
Pairing: LE SSERAFIM Chaewon x Male Reader
Word Count: 3353
A/N 1: Hellow Orenjideul! This will be my year-end fic and Happy new year to y'all! Thank you for following the journey I had been into and I hope you'll like this piece of mine! Stay safe y'all!
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“I just wanna love myself
난 좋을 때도 나쁠 때도
Love my weakness
화려했던 기대와는 
달리왠지 볼품없다 해도
Find the good parts, the good parts—”
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Breathe in; breathe out. 
Just take a deep breath and you’ll be fine—just don’t overthink about it and you’ll be fine.
It doesn’t work—nothing seems to be working in the first place. 
One more try. Calm yourself and relax your mind—feel the euphoric essence and not fall to the dark abyss lurking down.
“Hah…” you let out a deep sigh and smiled right after, knowing that you did what you could—your utmost performance. Gaslighting yourself that you did everything flawlessly isn’t gonna work and it never will.
“Ohh… I shouldn’t have gone over the limit, how stupid of me!” Another blame onto yourself for an unfortunate mishap leads you into losing your confidence. You frowned in frustration as the post-realization of your embarrassment is inevitable—you wanted to forget what happened but simply can’t.
Letting it slide off your mind wouldn’t help if you keep on thinking on how to forget it, and it shows. You puff your cheeks and let out a long breath, wanting yourself to ease the pain you’ve been feeling.
*phone vibrates*
You don’t want to answer it first as you—wait, what if it’s someone? Well, you don’t want to even put up a fight of your own demons on just a simple decision of answering a phone call, right? So, without a doubt, you picked it up without even looking at who it was and you were surprised by the voice on the phone.
“Hello Oppa!”
Your eyes widen; cheeks forming a shade of red as your lips involuntarily form a smile. You just can’t help but feel the ultimate delight whenever you hear her saccharine voice—even her scuffed voice on the phone can’t deny how sweet her voice is.
Chaewon. Kim Chae-won. The sweetest girl you’ve ever met; the cutest girl on the whole planet; the person that you can always lean on and trust—she just has everything a man wants and you’re lucky you’ve met her. Nothing in this world is perfect, but she’s the literal living embodiment of “perfection” and no one could change your mind with that—she’s your everything.
“Yah, Hello Chaewon-ah. Why did you call me?”
“Ahh, I called you to ask you how things went…”
“Huh, what do you mean by that?” you played dumb and oblivious on the phone, hoping that Chaewon would change the topic but her curiosity is inevitable—you don’t want to talk about the performance earlier as you wanted to forget what just happened.
“Hmp, don’t play dumb Oppa. I’m talking about your performance today! Did it went goo—”
“No.”
A cold, unnerving tone breaks Chaewon's sentence and the radiant energy that she emanates. Even though the both of you are just in a phone call, she can feel how spine-chilling your tone is. You don’t want to scare Chaewon in any way, it’s just the fact that you don’t want to talk about what happened earlier but she doesn’t seem moved by your sudden change of demeanor.
“Oh… I’m sorry for asking that, Oppa.”
“Uh-ahh, it’s a-alright, Chaewon. It’s just…”
“It’s just?”
You paused, pouting your lips, uneasy on what you’re going to say but you will, for you trust Chaewon with all your heart and you know how she’ll understand you.
“It's just—can I just come over at your place?”
“Ohh… Sure, Oppa. It's just that we're in a cafe with Kazuha and Yunjin, so maybe I'll come home later than expected.”
You frantically nod as you smile, knowing that you'll meet her again.
“Ohh, alright… Uhm, can I just come and fetch you on your way home? So you don't need to bother calling yourself a taxi. Just say where the cafe is and I'll go there—”
“Oh, it's alright Oppa. I'll just call a cab on my way home so you don't need to bother—”
“Please, Chaewon-ah?” your tone is reassuring and sincere, letting Chaewon know how much you trust her and how you wanted to mind fetching her in the first place.
Chaewon was having second thoughts at first as she thinks that you’ll be bothered enough but her heart says the opposite—she wants to meet you and is unhesitant of thinking about denying it.
“If you insist, Oppa… Sure thing.”
“Thank you, Chaewon-ah. Just call me if I’ll fetch you, I’m in my car right now, okay?”
“Okay Oppa, bye.”
“Bye Chaewon.”
You ended the call right after and let out a deep sigh. The sigh wasn’t anything near of stress but rather, a sigh of reassurance knowing that your day is getting a little brighter after talking to Chaewon on the phone.
Ah, she’s really a gift from above and you’ll forever cherish—
*phone rings*
Your eyelids slowly open; your eyes adjusting from the bright light your car screen (the touchscreen device or basically a screen that can be called as an ‘infotainment system’) is emanating. Suddenly, you come back to your senses and the phone rings echoes around the vehicle.
You slept without even knowing that you actually did. It’s must be the pent-up stress earlier but the phone is still ringing, maybe you should answer it—
“Hello? Chaewon?”
“Oppa! I already texted you on where the cafe is. Meet me there, right near the benches, okay?”
“Okay, Chaewon. I just slept all of a s-sudden. *yawns* I’m sorry.”
“Oppa, it’s alright. You’re not sorry; I understand how tough your day must be.”
“Thank you Chaewon-ah—” you smiled through the phone, enamored by how thoughtful and understanding she is—you’re always grateful for meeting a girl like her.
“—for understanding me. Uhm, I’ll come to the cafe as soon as possible, okay? Bye, see ya’.”
“Bye Oppa, see you too!”
You hung up the phone call as you rushed-not-so-rushed out of the parking position you’re in, ready to fetch Chaewon on the cafe she texted. You’re grateful that the cafe wasn’t really far from where you are right now—not even exceeding two kilometers according to the navigation system you’ve searched on.
“Bingo. It's not that far away, gladly.”
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Slowly dancing your head alongside the beat of the song from the radio, you feel a hint of delight and satisfaction—it may not seem to do something but it’ll do. Not so long after numerous songs, you finally arrived at the cafe she texted and thanked yourself for not getting lost on your way here, even though you almost did.
*horns blaring*
As soon as she saw the familiar color and plate number of your car, she waved goodbye to her friends, Kazuha and Yunjin as they exchanged smiles between the delightful blabbering they had earlier. A black-haired girl with her faint white highlights waddled her way onto your car and as soon as you saw it, you hopped out of the car and opened the door for her. 
“Aww, you’re so sweet, Oppa. Thank you…”
“It’s no big deal, Chaewon-ah.”
You also insisted on waving goodbye to her friends as they responded immediately. With your not-so-awkward meeting with Chaewon, you laughed it out as she smiled endearingly to you. You made eye contact with her as you awkwardly looked away right after, feeling something’s uncanny and off at this moment. Not so long after, the both of you hopped into the vehicle.
“Yah, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Uhm, I’m just worried about you earlier, what seems to be the bad thing that happened?”
Her eyes switched demeanor as it fixated towards you as her eyebrows scrunch in curiosity, expecting an answer uttering from your lips.
“O-o-ohh, t-that? Uhm, it’s just noth—”
“Stop with this Oppa, I’m here to help. So please—” her gaze locked onto yours again, her eyes reassuring and endearing for you to tell the truth. She further reassures you by caressing your right thigh as her thumb fidgets around the cloth.
“—tell me the truth.”
You're skeptical, your lips sighed in defeat as you looked right into her eyes, her captivating eyes—stare on those soulful, hazel-brown eyes—and finally, said what you've been keeping.
“I didn't deliver my best performance and I was ashamed of myself for being such the weakest link…”
Chaewon's eyes were in the mix of concern and distraught, unsure of what could happen next. She caressed your left cheek, cupping it gently right after as she reassured you.
“Oppa, you were never the weakest link. We may all have flaws but it doesn't mean it's always negative. We also have our own strengths too—”
“Yeah, but—I messed up pretty badly.”
“How bad?”
You clicked your tongue and faced away from her and to the window, being embarrassed as you gained enough strength again to open up to her.
“Really bad… I just—there’s just a lot to tell you.” 
Chaewon's eyebrows furrowed in dismay, frowning right after as she felt sympathy for your maybe-your-worst mistakes. 
“It's alright, Oppa. We'll continue this later, okay?'”
“Alright…”
Before stepping on the gas pedal, you thought of one thing and asked Chaewon something.
“Aren’t Kazuha and Yunjin going to come home? I mean, I can escort them on their way home—”
“Oh, them? They said that they’ll still stay and I decided to go and meet you earlier than expected because of you Oppa.”
You're in shock, eyes wide open from her statement. Did she really did that for you? Well, that’s really sweet. You had never thought that Chaewon would be this serious just to meet you—maybe your wretched state earlier is enough for her concerned heart to act up.
“Oh wow Chaewon… Thank you, I owe you so much—”
“Come on Oppa, it’s alright; the feeling is mutual too. I owe you a lot too…”
Her smile exudes sweetness and vibrance, making it brighter than any star on the cluster of systems known to mankind. That smile of hers. It is one of the reasons why I love her with all my heart. 
After a small, affectionate talk with her, you then stepped on the gas pedal and drove your way onto Chaewon’s place.
*car vrooms*
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“Yah, Oppa! That was so awkward!”
“I know right? Like we just stared at each other and thank God, he talked first.”
“Oh wow. *giggles* Oh, we're at our place now.”
Chaewon hurriedly readied herself as you parked the car and turned off the engine. You unlocked the doors and both of you got out of the car and initiated to carry Chaewon’s bag in order to ease the burden that she’s carrying even though she doesn’t have any—you’re repaying her kind heart with your gentlemanly actions.
Chaewon unlocks the door of her house and you were surprised with the new ambiance—organized shelves alongside the new T.V. setup and new pillowcases and carpets, and the strawberry scent by the diffuser serves as the cherry on top.
“Wow, a lot has changed here since my last visit.”
“Yeah, I tend to organize stuff in my free time and I thank Kkura-unnie for helping me out in organizing things.”
“Wow, that’s great to hear.”
Chaewon then rushed to the refrigerator to get some water and glasses on the shelves. You wander down around the living room and smile seeing the pictures of her friends, family, herself and the both of you lying around the cabinet.
“You want some water, Oppa?”
“Oh, I’m pretty good right now—”
“Food? We got some leftover ‘kimchi jjigae’ (kimchi stew) and some ‘jjajangmyeon’ (black bean noodles) here. Don’t you want some?”
“Nah, I’m good Chaewon. Thanks anyways.”
“Uhm, now talk to me, Oppa.”
Oh yeah. You suddenly forgot the reason why you’re at her place and you wouldn’t dare to lie in front of your teeth with such a plethora of excuses. 
“Oh, that…” your face suddenly vexed, remembering the grasps of such an embarrassing act in front of the audience. You just thank god no one laughed hysterically on your mistakes or unless you could’ve lost your confidence there and there.
“I don’t know what to really feel. I feel like all my practice has gone into dust after that mistake. I just hate myself after that.” you sighed deeply, feeling the regret and dismay of what happened earlier.
“I don’t even know if the mentors and my professors were amused by my performance, I forgot a couple of my lines and I’m glad I made some impromptu to slide it off but it just doesn’t seem right.”
You brought your right hand onto your forehead, closing your eyes as disappointment dominated your emotions. 
“It was your last, graded performance, right, Oppa?”
“Yeah, and I fucked up bad.”
“Hey, hey, don’t say that Oppa—” Chaewon then went and sat right beside you as she held your hand, making you reassured by her touch. “—you didn’t mess up anything and you said you said some impromptu to cover it up, right?”
“Yes, but here’s the worst thing: I went blank multiple times and stuttered too. I just feel fucked at that moment—shit…” 
“Oppa…” Chaewon’s face is now closer against yours, staring endearingly with those puppy eyes. “Have you ever considered looking at the brighter side?”
“How come there’s a brighter side, Chaewon? I messed up and thank god no one noticed yet only the smallest details.”
“There can be, Oppa.”
You always know how optimistic Chaewon is—how she often cheers you up and makes your day brighter. You always know how she can make you laugh even in your all-so-serious mood, she just knows how she can make you in awe and let down your defenses for her—she’s your kryptonite. 
You half-expected her to tell things like this before you fetched her and you’re right. You feel skeptical with her persuasions but you can’t help but think of the brighter side of this. 
“Hah… Alright, Chaewon, enlighten me then.”
“Have you ever thought that the impromptu you made could be actually better than the script?”
“B-But I wrote the script, and I don’t think it’s better—”
“Oppa, even the simplest of actions can impact something so vastly. Maybe, just maybe, your professors or mentors can even applaud or complement your performance despite something lacking, yet I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing bad.”
You paused for a moment, contemplating Chaewon's reassuring and optimistic words. Maybe she can be right. 
“Tch, I don’t know Chaewon but—”
Chaewon anticipates. Her idyllic yet worrying expression—her furrowed eyebrows matched with her saccharine smile—painted all over her face expects something following your conjunction.
“But?”
You hugged her. Without any second to waste, you didn’t hesitate to kiss her cheeks and thanked her for her thoughtfulness and the time to listen to you.
You owe her so much and you feel like, you didn’t deserve her—
No. Stop with these intrusive thoughts and look to the brighter side—like how Chaewon would say to you. 
The hug lasted for only a couple of seconds and you could tell how Chaewon was flustered at that moment—her cheeks tinted a rosy pink as well as her ears getting red at the moment. 
“Chaewon, thank you so much for these.”
Your genuine tone makes Chaewon in awe, her eyes pleading as her smile exudes vibrance and you can't help but fall into the contagiousness of it—smiling too as soon as she smiles.
“It's just a small thing, Oppa. I'm always there for you, don't you forget it.”
She then hugged you tightly and you didn't hesitate to accept her affection—accepting it with open arms. She deepened the embrace with her face resting on your chest as she murmured, “Thank you too, Oppa. I’m so thankful to meet you. So so thankful…”
Your eyes involuntarily teared-up, touched by her short yet sweet message as you didn't hesitate to let out your true feelings too.
“I could never ask for anything more in this world because of you Chaewon. Thank you for everything.”
The embrace was full of affection as you pushed her gently against you—the both of you meeting eyes to each other—breaking the embrace in exchange for a kiss. A kiss to remember.
The next thing Chaewon saw is just your lips latched onto hers as you taste the faint of the vanilla lip balm. You kissed her a little bit more before detaching, your animalistic urge wanting more but you resisted.
“I love you, Chaewon.”
These simple words are enough to make someone's heart flutter. These simple words are worth remembering for a lifetime. These simple words that can make thousands and thousands of memories worth cherishing.
“I love you too, Oppa.”
The both of you locked eyes and exchanged smiles, feeling reinvigorated than before.
“Just to hope they would be pleased, at least.”
“I believe that they will, Oppa. Also—” Chaewon got off on the couch as she hurriedly got something on the shelves. 
Wires with the colors of blue and black is all you can see as she set-ups the conglomeration of wires near the T.V. and with that, you insisted to help yet within a blink of an eye, she already finished wiring anything up.
“—do you wanna play some games, Oppa?” she asked you with a controller in her hand.
You would be lying if you don't want to. How can you resist playing with a puffball like her? With that being said you nodded and got the wireless controller from her hand as you started grasping the controls of it.
“Try and be relaxed, Oppa. We'll play some chill exploration games if you want to so you won't be stressed.”
Another nod, agreeing on her actions. 
“Ahh, the things you do to me, Chaewon…”
And now with a simple click, the game starts as the adventure begins…
—-------------------------------
Seconds become minutes. Minutes become hours and so on. Time really went fast as you didn't see the dark aura of the sky outside—signaling that it's already nighttime and the both of you didn’t notice because of how busy you were on the game.
“Wow, *yawns* —we really did a lot of this game, Oppa. I’ll just harvest the rest of the crops and maybe explore more on the other side.”
“Yeah, sure, Chaewon, I’ll go and do some fishing then.”
You focused on going near the pond as you suddenly felt a weight on your left shoulder. You looked to your left, Chaewon silently snoring; her eyes shut; sleeping soundly. 
You tucked her white-highlighted hair behind her ear, taking a look at her beautiful and pristine features: her cute, boopable nose; her faint eyes, innocent from her sleeping and her soft, plump lips.
You took a sight of her impeccable features and kissed her cheek. You smiled right after as you exited the game from both controllers and turned off the T.V. right after.
Such epitome of perfection she is. You're in awe seeing how beautiful she really is. Even with the simplest outfit and faint make-up, she stands out, exceeding any criteria of beauty—she's the real epitome of it.
You lay her down on the couch and took the nearby blanket on the coffee table, wrapping it around her as she didn't seem to be bothered by your actions—still sleeping peacefully.
“Good night, Chae.”
Give her a quick peck on the forehead, you smile as you sit beside her, caressing her hair and cheeks.
“Thank you for everything, Chaewon. Thank you for guiding me on the times I feel lost. Thank you and no words can explain how much I love you.”
The vast night sky has countless stars that seemed endless, but you could only see one, and that's Chaewon.
You leaned next to her, trying to sleep as you, not so long after, you gave in to your drowsiness.
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Text Message from “yurii the hamster”:
“Oppa! I have some good news for you! Our professors commended our performance earlier! They also said you performed well and your acting is great! Thank you again for all of these, Oppa, everything isn't possible without your help and everyone of us. Thank youuu! ;)”
Well, this will be great news for you when you woke up.
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cybertron-after-dark · 5 months
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TFP- Pet Names
Bots and cons, both what they'd call you and what they'd love it if you called them
Gender neutral reader, reader is human but I can do one of these for cybertronian reader too down the line.
If I missed someone you really wanted to see, feel free to ask for them!
Optimus
Calls you: My beloved, my love, my other half. A lot of old fashioned, sweet, sappy nicknames bc he's a sappy old man.
Call him: Sugar, sweetie, honey, baby. Overly saccharine titles just make him blush like nothing else. Even if they're a little silly, they just make him feel so loved.
Ratchet
Calls you: Dear, love, my better half, though more often than not he calls you by your name. He likes how it sounds.
Call him: one would think he despises nicknames from his reaction to wheeljack calling him doc and sunshine, but it's quite the opposite; nicknames are a very special thing to him, but you have to earn the right to call him by them, or it feels overly familiar and that infuriates him. Once you've been together for awhile, if you call him "my love," his spark will soar.
Bulkhead
Calls you: Baby, cutie, honey, lovebug, lovebunny, sweetspark. You're the cutest thing in the world to him and he wants you to know that.
Call him: stud, handsome, or big guy are all great ones if you're looking to fluster him. That said, if you call him muffin or sweet thing, he might actually cry a little because it makes him way too happy.
Bumblebee
Calls you: Babe, hot stuff, cutie pie, babydoll, beautiful, gorgeous, boo. He needs you to know you're too dang pretty!
Call him: honey, honeybee, sweetheart, sweetspark. He's a total sucker for the cheesy stuff.
Arcee
Calls you: babe, dork, partner. That last one means a LOT to her. If she calls you her partner it means she's totally opened up to you, and you're too important to her to lose.
Call her: babe, but only call her partner if she calls you that first. It's not a title to be taken lightly in her eyes.
Wheeljack
Calls you: hottie, hot stuff, sexy, dollface, sunshine, babe, wild thing, he's got a whole arsenal of nicknames, some more annoying than others.
Call him: studmuffin, sexy, big boy, crazy, daddy. Real talk, he loves hearing whatever cursed, over the top bullshit you come up with. The dumber the better, he loves when you can make him laugh.
Megatron
Calls you: human, more often than not. Pet is the best you're getting.
Call him: you're going to call him Lord Megatron, or Master. Anything else is unacceptable, even for his partner.
Starscream
Calls you: Fleshy, pet, wretched organic, gremlin, creature... And, when he's sure nobody's listening, very rarely, he'll call you beloved or my spark.
Call him: master, sir, lord starscream, my heart, my spark. He likes to feel important to you, and he REALLY likes to feel respected and powerful.
Soundwave
Calls you: ... Well he doesn't usually call you much of anything given he doesn't talk, but sometimes he'll use soundbytes of cutesy pet names from old human romance movies that he totally does not watch, shut up.
Call him: he'll honestly appreciate any nickname you give him (though you won't catch him showing it), but things like beautiful, gorgeous, or pretty boy will get him to blush under that screen. Especially if you've seen him with the mask off and still insist he looks good.
Shockwave
Calls you: your name. He feels no need to make up overly saccharine terms of endearment. You are his and he is yours, you both know you love each other, so why bother with such performative trivialities? If you tell him you just like hearing the affirmation every now and then, he won't fully get it, but he will settle on calling you trinket, because you are very small and you fascinate him.
Call him: You're not gonna get a reaction out of him no matter what you call him, but he considers the terms love, dear, or my heart to be acceptable.
Knockout
Calls you: darling, doll, dollface, honey, baby, lover, cutie, sweetspark, lapin, little thing, ma chèrie, mon amour, itty bit, and those are just the usual names.
Call him: gorgeous, pretty boy, hottie, honey, baby, all of it gets him a little flustered, but he REALLY loves whenever you call him speedy. He loves looking pretty and driving fast, and only one of those gets acknowledged all that often.
Breakdown
Calls you: Baby, tiny, lovebug, snugglebunny, sweet thing, honey, gorgeous, pretty little thing, sweetspark, cuddlebear. He can get pretty cutesy with it, he's not ashamed to admit how much he loves you.
Call him: big guy, sexy, big boy, good boy, darling, sweetspark. He likes when you remind him how big and strong he is, but he also likes hearing you get sweet on him.
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Note
I saw a post of yours saying you'd accept prompts for the reader character from Honeymoon, and while I don't have one yet I was wondering if while writing Honeymoon, did a particular name/coined nickname come to mind to you for the character? Or were there generally any side thoughts that came to mind like little headcanons that you couldn't get into the work?
(I know you've gotten a lot of asks about Honeymoon lately so I'm sorry if you're getting tired of getting asks about it specifically 🫠)
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Oh I never tire of it, in fact the more y’all ask the more I go from it being perhaps one of the most solitary pieces I’ve ever written to finally having a little more of a concept behind it. So it helps me start thinking up plot. >And I’d welcome all the suggestions!!<
I was captivated by the wholesome salaciousness of a next morning walk with Elvis after the wedding night and how the whole world would be invested in it,. That alone drove that fic, very isolated. If you’ve ever been to a good ole fashioned southern Baptist wedding you know the tittering blushiness of what everyone knowing “what’s gonna happen to you tonight.” So I was thinking of that but magnified by global interest and Elvis’ carefully crafted image of his perfect little lady.
SOOOO….
First off, no, I’ve no nickname in particular, which honestly now I’m realizing that would be a lovely way to keep it a reader fic but have a little name for her. I’d want it something soft and sweet like Bunny or Buttercup, Honey Bunch, Schooby Doo or something similarly saccharine. Elvisey.
Now as for plot, much of what I might’ve done back when I wrote it has now been written by others, and written very well. So I’ve started to simmer on something else, maybe regarding the Governor’s daughter at the time he came home, except not Ann the eldest who he flirted with and maintained a friendship with, but rather a baby sister? Someone far too young when he first came back yet was star struck and dreamy over him in 1960. But Honeymoon and any of its new surrounding fics would be in the late 60’s and perhaps she ends up the bride. I’m really intrigued about exploring two things:
1. Elvis marrying a sweet little baby belle to spare her reputation after a bit of his foolin’ got her name gnarled up with his and shenagins that never did go as far as the papers say, but she’s a bit ruined all the same in her father’s circles. So perhaps outta respect for her father and the appeals of her older sister to help somehow and his almost mystically idealistic appreciation for rewarding virtue and defending the innocent, he marrys her to save her good name. And dear me, she’s so in love with him, she’d do anything for him and he’s terribly nervous that he’s not cut out for marriage but he’s trying and goodness me it is fun to play house with someone so sublime.
All this is just me spit balling.
2. I want more of Elvis actually getting commissioned as a agent or ambassador or something of that nature for once, the dear man so wanted to be of use to his country and sure, maybe his new posting isn’t what he expected without much gun fighting and need for karate kicks but his his career was lacking anyway and his helpful little wife knows this world well and is an immense help and assures him that his smile alone could bring world peace. Germany again, perhaps? Cold War shennagins? Middle East? Where would y’all like to send him?
Does this inspire any thoughts? Opinions? That’s what I’m stewing on so far though it’s not sure enough for me to have the vision for a scene I can write out.
Thank you again for asking and sorry for the way I’ve just word vomited lol.
Xoxo
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sukimas · 4 months
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To expand on this, my problem with HCAR is that the creators simply don't seem to be very interested in Hifuu or its inspirations at all.
Characterization is a point you can argue on all day, so I'll avoid dwelling on it; however, they don't seem to be interested in the world itself or the themes and plot of the CDs. For the world, though Osaka is depicted as underwater, it appears to be mostly fine; Kyoto looks, essentially, as it does today, rather than decorated as if it was an artificial jungle. They don't bother going to Tokyo (or to anywhere else in the Hifuuture) but somehow I doubt that the anime which decided to go with the lazy indication of futurism, the airship, would be willing to depict an environment such that the Earth itself needed terraforming. There are also robots depicted (which don't seem to be common in the Hifuuture at all).
But by far the most egregious problem with the world is that it's set significantly less than a hundred years in the future from today, by dint of them meeting one of Sanae's relatives who was still around (and about the same age as Sanae) while she was around and her not appearing particularly old, barring white hair. Due to the fact that the Boyu Tokaido was built before the girls were even born, in the Jinki era (a past, rather than present, era) the CDs needs must take place in at least the 2090s if not later; the astronomical considerations of GFC require that it take place in 2151, though that's not necessarily intentional on ZUN's part.
As for the plots of the CDs, the anime seems completely uninterested in depicting either them or anything like them. That is to say, after the first episode, it neither shows the events of any of the CDs nor has the Hifuus having philosophical conversations about anything (!). The latter is what's really unfortunate- that is, after all, the entire point of the Hifuu Club in the music CDs in the first place. Having them visit other worlds or expose the secrets of their own is essentially "fluff"; this is the reason why Retrospective 53 Minutes, Magical Astronomy, Dr. Latency's Freak Report, and Dateless Bar Old Adam exist at all. If the exploration was the important part, there would be no need for CDs like that.
(They don't even get their depiction of Magical Astronomy itself- the most saccharine and favorite CD of JP and CN Hifuu fandom- right- the girls are by no means implied to go to the moon. In fact, Merry isn't even implied to be able to manipulate boundaries intentionally until Dateless Bar Old Adam. But even if she could, she's kind of banned from the moon due to the, you know, whole invasion thing in the past. Even if she's allowed up there with a letter from Eirin in Grimoire of Usami, she's not just going to be allowed to drag her will-they-won't-they-friend up there for a tour, no matter how human she looks.)
The other two extant episodes essentially ditch the Hifuu Club format entirely. The second episode is about the disappearance of Sanae Kochiya, which is, frankly, a story that only Renko would believe in; it's something that you'd hear about on 2ch or at the Old Adam Bar, not something that they'd go on adventures to learn about. Anyway, it's entirely unfocused on the girls themselves or their philosophy. The third episode is about Merry dreaming about Lafcadio Hearn (using his extant nickname of the Raven, which, while cute, doesn't actually add anything to their depiction. They don't seem to have any tangible knowledge of what the man was like) and visiting the SDM.
For an anime titled as being about the Hifuu Club, they sure don't seem to be interested in actually exploring anything the Hifuu Club does, or their own philosophy. And not actually committing to Renmerry outside of Class S-ing it is cowardly. You're a fanime. You can put fucking yuri in there if you want. Granted, I don't really like the portions which do focus on the club itself, due to their characterizations, but they could have at least tried.
Basically, it's just kind of OC slop that is uninterested in its source material materially, thematically, or philosophically. You can make good work that's focused around OCs, but this isn't it.
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barb-l · 1 year
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Yeees totally! With Enid probably picking stores strategically beforehand because she knows Wednesday can only take so much before her social batteries run out for the day. She's also totally buying her something other than black and white.. maybe in a beautiful dark blue colour and for whatever, whatever reason Wednesday will be compelled to wear it (when they are alone.) Oh no.. I have way too much thoughts and feelings about them.
Ohh I will be ecstatic about anything you decide to write for them. I loved your first fic tons, it's so very well-written! 😊
Oh dark blue could work. Pretty sure that's what she was wearing in Addams Family Values.
Aww thanks! I'm actually working on a summer break fic rn, but i've been hesitant to keep going cuz ive been considering just waiting to watch the show first cuz i wanna know what Enid's family/pack is like by the end of the show. I'll probably be changing a ton of stuff, or just scrap the whole thing altogether, after i've watched the show, so let me just post what i have so far here:
(sorry im on my mobile and can't put it under read more)
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Enid didn't really expect anything when she gave Wednesday her number. For one, Wednesday didn't have a phone and has sworn that she will never have one.
But just in case...
As, uh, rocky as their start was as roommates, Wednesday has grown on Enid. Like a mold. Maybe due to Stockholm Syndrome. Jury's still up as to how Wednesday feels about her. But after going up against a homicidal monster and rogue Nevermore student together, she likes to think that she has managed to go past being merely a thorn on Wednesday's side and dug her way to the other girl's shriveled, pea-sized heart.
So just before they leave Nevermore for the long-awaited summer break, she gave Wednesday her phone number to let her know that she can contact her if she ever gets sick of tormenting her brother and wants to bother Enid instead.
Wednesday raised a brow when she's handed the piece of paper with Enid's digits and sceptically looked at her. "Why?"
Enid didn't expect Wednesday to ask at the time. Truthfully she expected her to wordlessly throw it away and was prepared for another bout of back and forth squabble like they've always done. Maybe even tease her over how she's too much of an old lady on the inside to even figure out how to use a phone anyway. It was fun. What's not fun is admitting that she will miss her. She didn't prepare to be asked why.
"I don't know," is what Enid ended up saying. "Just..." She shrugged, turned away from Wednesday's calculating gaze to finish zipping up her bag. "I don't know."
"Hm."
Enid didn't like that reaction. Like Wednesday just caught her doing something embarrassing. So she took her bag, gave Wednesday a saccharinely fake smile, and said, "See ya, weirdo!" before running away with her tail tucked between her legs.
----
Enid spends the first two weeks of summer break agonizing over how humiliating that was. Who gives their number to a girl who doesn't even have a phone? Desperate idiots, that's who.
If Wednesday knew how much Enid was suffering just thinking about her, she'd be smiling in satisfaction.
...and now Enid has started thinking about Wednesday's smile, wicked as it may be, and has buried her face in her pillow. This time she's suffering for different, more embarrassing reasons.
She didn't expect anything, honest to god, so when she receives a notification one day for a text from an unknown number, she couldn't believe her eyes.
Greetings, Enid Sinclair, it reads.
Against my better judgement, I have gone and acquired a phone. I still maintain the belief that they are unnecessary and annoying, but you were, regrettably, right. Lighting Pugsley up in the good ol' electric chair has not been the same since Nevermore.
Perhaps it's due to everything else that we have gone through the whole semester. Monsters and what-not can't compare.
Though money has never been an issue to an Addams, I expect that you will make my purchase worthwhile by granting me amusement. Go ahead, regale me of your woes spending school break locked in a whole different kind of prison with your family. I don't expect it to be any worse of a time than I have had, but I haven't lost hope.
Forever in darkness,
Wednesday Addams
Enid rolls her eyes when she finishes reading the absurdly long text, but there's a smile she can't contain when she fondly mutters, "So edgy."
She doesn't reply right away. Mostly because she doesn't know what to say, and also because she spent a good fifteen minutes just re-reading the message, giggling over the mental image of Wednesday going to the mall and buying a phone, all for her.
... Well, maybe not, but Enid doesn't have enough self-control in her to deny a hungry ego.
She knows that the text has been shown as read on Wednesday's end by know, but she pays it no mind. With all the torture having Wednesday on her mind has brought her, she deserves to do it back.
After spending much too long of her time erasing and retyping, she finally replies.
u dont have to sign n write texts like letters yunno. U can just talk like normal
Enid once again laughs when she sees that her text was immediately read. Wednesday spends two minutes conjuring up a reply, and Enid spends the whole time watching the dots on the the bubble move as she lies in bed.
Eventually, Wednesday sends a reply.
Your spelling is atrocious.
Enid wonders if Wednesday would get offended if she tells her how often she has made her laugh.
That's more like it, Enid texts in return.
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jades-typurriter · 8 months
Text
Gal Pals + Your First Howl
A POV transformation thing: your closest friends are werewolves, they get you in on it, and they sit with you through the process of your first transformation! @bluebearial (the BESTIE) collaborated on this, basically just passing the draft back and forth; her writing is in purple and mine is in blue. PLEASE go check her out she's a fantastic artist and has more lovely and intimate writing like this on her blog
CW: they're gay werewolves. these girls are doing lots of petting and sniffing
Gloomy. That’s the one word that could describe this night. The sky is a deep grey. Thunder, far in the distance, still makes itself known in the form of a near-constant rumble. Despite the blanket of cloud that covers the sky, a pale glow could still be seen. Lycanthropy, as you had recently found out, doesn’t require direct moonlight to take effect. Just the presence of it is enough to make you itch. For new instincts to crop up. You wish you knew about this going in, but thankfully, your friends are a lot more experienced than you. Even better, they’re here to ride it out with you.
“I know the picture of like, breaking into a clearing in the woods, and having the moon behind you and everything when you transform for the first time is really cool,” trills Fetch, and even through the buzz of excitement and anxiety, you know where this is going. You’ve known it since English Lit. in college; it’s had a point-by-point for everything since even before then. “But not a ton of people actually get to do that! It’s like, part of the lycanthrope experience that gets sanitized and simplified a lot for wider audiences. Sooooo many movies do this bit, and the weather’s always perfect, and everything, but like… would you even wanna wander around in the woods on a normal day? Let alone a vulnerable one like this?”
“I dunno…~” lilts Plum, your other friend, from her place on the couch, “Days like this’re perfect for just, skulkin’ around in the dark. Scarin’ people. Like, rahh~” She even puts her paws up, showing off those amethyst-colored claws. As you watch her, you can’t help but wonder if this whole ‘lycanthropy’ thing has more of a mental effect than you’d first realized. As recently as this afternoon, she was pretty chipper! Happy to help with anything you’d need. But after the moon came out… She’s definitely the more laidback one now, compared to Fetch.
She always found at least some kind of fun in any situation, though a part of you wished she wouldn’t right at this moment. “Like, think about it. Remember when we first met? ‘N you found me diggin’ through your trash? You thought I was some kind’a dog. I wish I had a camera - remember the look on your face when I just started talking to you? Like…” She takes a pause, putting a paw up to her muzzle, trying her best not to laugh (and failing). Like her namesake, she is covered in a thick coat of purple. You remember that in her human form, she had purple highlights in her otherwise dark hair. You suppose the color of her fur was… somehow related to that? How does that even work? What would your fur look like? Yet another question you’d neglected to ask before, well. Y’know.
“Ohhhh my gosh, are you ever gonna leave me alone about that? I thought you were a lit-er-al wolf!!” Plum looks like she has something to say about that, but Fetch cuts her off: “I know, I know, I wasn’t wrong. You did turn out to be a huge bitch,” it says, voice saccharine and head tilting cutely to the side. Plum reaches over you to bop it with her paw, leaving you acutely aware of your position, sandwiched between your two friends. Squished, almost: both of them are much bigger than they are as humans, and they take up much more of the couch, too. You blush as her paw passes by your face—it’s bigger than your whole head. Thinking about Plum lurking out of sight, rummaging around with those powerful things… Thinking about how your own hands might be like that soon enough. You’d pipe up to ask about how soon to expect more changes, but it would be, what, the tenth time you asked? Plus, you’re not sure you want to draw attention to yourself if the partners start play-fighting. Well, maybe you would… But it’d probably be safer to wait until after your change.
But still. On one side, Fetch’s dense, cream fur coddles your arm and part of your leg, acting as a big, fluffy cushion. On the other side, Plum is really invading your personal space a bit as she tries to reach over at her partner. Being caught between a pair of - how tall are they– one, two, three… - six foot tall wolves has you squirming a bit. Partly to get comfy, and partly because… oh wow. This is really happening. Up until a few years ago, you’d figured werewolves weren’t, y’know, real? Your heart flutters. Your stomach tightens a bit, causing you to shudder - anything to somehow vent these feelings. You clench your fists and oh my god, were your fingernails always this sharp? They dig into your palms, causing you to relax your grip. Remembering the situation at hand - or was it ‘at paw’, Plum cranes her neck a bit to look down at you. At least, you’d assume that’s what she’s doing. Her snout is just about the only thing keeping her fluffy, full mane from completely covering her face.
“Hey, hey, listen dude,” she does her best to soothe you, “We’re gonna be here for you, alright? It’ll be like, kinda weird at first. Um, maybe a little scary? I dunno. But, like, once you get over the hump, it’ll feel sooo~o good. You’re gonna feel all soft ‘n like, fluffy ‘n stuff. Like, bwbwbwbwbwb.” She demonstrates in her own weird way, putting her paws to her own cheeks and rubbing them. Her ears, a little droopier than you’d expect from a wolf, flop from side to side as she bleps her tongue out at you. You do feel a bit more relaxed admittedly… Though, there’s another thing you hadn’t thought about before.
Werewolves smell. They don’t smell bad, really, though you wonder if there’s something else making you think that. They just have… a scent, one that’s hard to describe beyond… furry, and thanks to your spot between your two friends, they were basically hotboxing you with it. Every whiff of it makes you feel just a bit more, like, relaxed and stuff. I mean, these are your friends. They’re helping you through this. It’s just what the pack does for one another.
Fetch leans down, reaching behind you to put one paw on each of your shoulders, reassuring you. Well, trying to reassure you; getting so close is giving you another waft of Wolf Girl, and as familiar and calming as it is—you wonder if maybe you already knew what the two of them smelled like, and you’re just starting to recognize your friends the way dogs do—it’s starting to make your head spin. Or maybe that’s the changes, too…
“It really, really means a lot to us that we’re the ones you wanted to help you with this, bestie. Now, someone could have been a little bit gentler about infecting you,” it snips, pointing its snout accusingly at Plum. Oh, yeah. That’s where you recognize her smell from. She all but bowled you over when you had asked the two of them to bite you, and you… still thought about her weight on you fairly often. You wish you could stop thinking about it for, like, a second so you don’t seem like a flustered, shaky nerd, but it’s harder to forget it with every breath.“But the trust is still really sweet! And like, now I get to repay you for being so understanding when I came out, yeah?” It perks up its ears, smiling down at you. You (mercifully) lose yourself in that memory for a moment instead; you see its tail whipping back and forth behind it, and realize, yeah, you’ve been friends for a long time. You’re, like, besties! It always makes you giggle when Fetch calls you that. And you do trust them! Even if they’re a bit silly, you know the two of them are looking out for you. You’re in good paws.
“Yeah! We like, tooo~tally got you, dude. It’ll be a-okay,” she reassures you. “You’re like, basically our best friend so, like, y’know….
You blink a few times, shaking your head as your hearing gets more and more muffled. Wh,what’s happening? It’s as if your ears were suddenly plugged. You can’t hear anything now. Just as quickly as it happens, it seems to stop.
“Oh, huh.”
It’s not until you hear her voice again that you calm down. Though - wow, um, that was a bit loud?? You grimace, wondering just what caused her to shout like that. It was as if her voice gained a ton more bass all of a sudden. You glare up at her, opening your mouth to scold her, but you quickly realize that… like, everything is louder. The rumbling outside, the room’s ambience, even Fetch’s tail as it slaps the couch. Plum’s paw reaches down to the top of your head, where your… ears… are…? “Ohoho~ Hey, Fetch, check this out~” Like, you could just hear the excitement in Plum’s voice as beckons her partner. A pair of tall, fuzzy triangles peaks up from beneath your hair. Speaking of, has your hair gotten longer? You can like, kinda feel it brushing your shoulders… Your thoughts begin to swim as you feel your bestie’s paw just, rest upon your head like that. You want to look up at her, but something compels you to angle to head down. She holds one of your ears between her thumb and index finger, softly rubbing it between her digits. Your ear flicks in her gentle grip, instinctually moving in a way you like, really cannot control. Like, just a bit, y’know? The same, strange feeling causes your free ear to fold down, your shoulders to slump a bit… You squirm some more as the meekest little whine slips out. You rub your nose. Either that scent is getting stronger, or like, your nose is getting more sensitive. Either way… It’s enough to make you sneeze.
“Awww!” Fetch practically whispers. “The new ears are so cuuuuute! Just go easy on ‘em, Plum, you know those things are sensitive when you first get ‘em.” It bends down, poking its snout right into the ear you’ve angled away from Plum. Its voice is so quiet that it barely moves the air, but it’s still so totally clear: “How do you like ‘em, though, bestie?” You shudder, the tingle in your ear crashing down the back of your neck, along your spine, and into your tail—into your tail?! You twist around, pulling your head away from Plum’s paw (you have to suppress another whimper at the thought of no longer being petted) and, looking down, see a fluffy sprout bunching up the bottom of your shirt. Your eyes get all big, and as you get all excited about it, you watch it start wagging basically on its own? And you can feel it and it feels like you’re dancing for joy? You yell, looking back up at the two girls to either side, and Fetch yells back at you. “Oh my gosh oh my GOSH!!!” It squeals. “I can’t believe it came in so quickly!! It’s soooooo cute oh my gosh…” It pauses, then leans down conspiratorially, its own tail wagging again, energetic and out of time with yours. “Hey. You know what’d be a real fun way to scream it all out? Since we’re celebrating?” You tilt your head, feeling your ears flop with the motion, and realize that you probably look a lot like Fetch did a minute ago.
You have a good idea of what it means. If there’s one good thing about all those werewolf movies you like to watch - you kind of know the beats to this ‘story’. …That, and, your friends finding your collection is what set this into motion in the first place. Your tail wags furiously as you put your paws together. That short, stubby thing grows inch by inch, moment by moment. Every little wag it makes, it feels softer, so much softer. You start to understand what Plum meant by those fuzzy feelings. Just the sensation of having a tail at all, let alone wagging it, fills you with a euphoria you didn’t know you yearned for - a euphoria that seems to bubble up inside you. You’ve never howled before, but you’re totally not against it.
“Scream it out…?” Plum quietly asks, a little slower on the draw than you. She perks up an ear, furrowing her brow. “What, like… Oh. Ohhhh.” And she friggin’ grins. “Oh, man. It’ll be just like when we first came out. She leans a bit, squishing you between the two of them. Plum reaches out for her pawrtner’s paw, gently taking hold of it. “Remember that~? It was like, so romantic…~ Holding paws, howling together, getting nice and close after~ And like, we started getting all grabby ‘n stuff, testing each other out, and…~ And– A-Anyway,” she catches herself, sparing you the more… intimate. details, “You ready~? One, two, three!~”
“AwooOOO~OOO~~!” Angling her head up, Plum gives it her all! It starts low and slow, but ramps up in volume until it’s all you can hear. And you feel hyped! Your euphoria reaches a fever pitch, boiling over until you just can’t keep it in anymore! Why not follow your instincts, joining your besties in their symphony?
With Plum’s voice reverberating between your ears, inside your skull, coursing through your chest like the bass of the speakers at a concert, you lift your voice as well, throwing your head back and lifting your voice to match hers, at least as best you can. It cracks and scratches more than once, but you don’t care. It still sounds beautiful to you, and it’s such a rush! You feel like you’re standing through the sunroof and blasting music on the way home from a frat party; you feel like you’re on stage and your voice is carrying through a packed arena.
Fetch claps its paws together, “yay”-ing and chanting ‘go, go, go!” before finally lifting its own snout and joining the two of you. It effortlessly, naturally harmonizes with Plum—the two of them have been running as a pack for a long time, after all, and they’ve had more practice individually than you have. Still, the sound the three of you make together makes butterflies in your stomach, and then washes them away again with liquid awe. It’s like the crowd you were singing to is cheering back, a beautiful droning of joyful voices, shouting wildly and without inhibition.
You were always so jealous of the two of them, once you’d found out. They’d been your friends for years, but when they started dating, and after Fetch realized it was otherkin, Plum turned it at its request, and well—it’s a lot harder to hide two werewolves than it is to hide one. Of course, it didn’t change anything between the three of you, other than feeling a little weird about your fascination with werewolves. Being a fan of the genre, being a furry, even, felt sorta… like stereotyping them? Fetch would use the word “appropriative”, if it wasn’t currently singing its lungs out.
Now, though, after their reassurance, and after doing a bit of digging into those “weird” feelings, you just feel like you’ve been missing out! You keep howling until your throat gets tired, until you start choking on your own drool and feeling the scratchy strain on your new vocal cords. At some point, Fetch reaches out to pat you on the head again, and notices something about your shoulders.
“Dude! No way! Your coat is coming in now, too!” You finally gulp down a breath, after what feels like holding a note for an eternity (and pretty poorly, but hey, you can already feel yourself getting better!) and reach up to feel around your neck. Your hair hasn’t just gotten longer—it’s begun to crawl its way down between your shoulder blade and along your arms!
You think back to before, the way your tail first sprouted from beneath your shirt. You’re getting the same feeling now, watching your new coat spill over your shirt’s collar. You were always pretty flat, but - your cheeks start to glow as you feel your shirt ride up, buoyed by your developing bosom. If that isn’t enough, that same fur spreads across it, only adding to its mass. A thick tuft sprouts up in your cleavage, helping it to spill over the top of your collar. And god, it feels warm. You grow aware of that as you hug around it. You squeeze it in your arms, and an exhilarating feeling rumbles throughout your body. …Or, was that rumbling coming from you? One end of your mouth curls up as you growl to yourself, prompting an amused coo from Plum.
“Hey. Nice teeth.~”
You break from your self-imposed stupor for a moment, instinctively licking your teeth. They’re sharp. Especially your canines, but the rest of your teeth have grown similarly long and jagged. You whisper something resembling a ‘thank you’, too sheepish and too caught up trying to keep yourself even halfway composed. It’s a losing battle, though. Your shirt rubs up against your chest, making every little squirm a challenge to keep yourself quiet. As your coat thickens, it shimmers in the dim light. Your thoughts are harder to grip, divided among so many unfamiliar sensations. Your ears flick and swivel with every little sound. Your tail curls and wags and bats the cushion behind you. Your nose, well on its way to snoutsville is full of unfamiliar, addictive smells. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You reach out to Fetch, grabbing its arm and clinging to her. You let out a whine, rubbing your cheek against its silky fur, hoping for a lifeline as a warm, kind of itchy, but liberating feeling spreads further down your body as it is overtaken by your developing coat.
It doesn’t help you as much as you were hoping. Like, not at all. Fetch is just sooooo comfy, and you feel Plum’s paw between your ears again, and your head starts getting like… all cloudy and stuff… She gets her claws in, short little scratches that drag further and further down through your hair, down the back of your neck—soooo so sososo sensitive right now!!---and up behind your jaw, and you whiiiiiiine and just slowly slump over across Fetch’s lap. It giggles, Plum giggles, and if you weren’t so busy squirming, you might be laughing too, from the way she’s making your head swim.
With your head in its lap like that, panting from all the stimulation, you smell it even more strongly. It smells good. It makes your face burn, it gets your blood pumping, and you follow your nose to its source without a moment’s hesitation, before looking down your snout and realizing it’s pushing into her skirt, right between her legs. You freeze, eyes darting up to its face. It’s laughing harder than it was before, so like… you didn’t make it uncomfortable? Or mad? At least? Plum gives your rear (oh god you were pointing your butt straight at her) a SLAP with her heavy paw, and both of them crack up all over again at the involuntary YELP. It at least un…unsticked the gears in your brain. You apologize profusely, finally pulling your face away from Fetch’s crotch, but it reaches its paw up to cup your snout. “Bestie, don’t even worry. Everybody gets, uh… kinda excited, on their first time. I know I did!” It pauses. “I mean, me and Plum were already dating by then, so—” The mention of dating makes your face so hot that you have to bring up your own paws—when had they even finished changing!! Omigosh!!—to cover it. “Ohhhhh… I mean, hey, I wasn’t bringing that up to say we couldn’t try stuff!! New instincts, new feelings, no judgment, right? That’s what we said!” You look up at her, half-desperate and half-embarrassed, eager to hear the reassurance. “And I mean… we could try dating too, if you wanted? Right, Plum?”
“Oh, yeah,” she readily agrees, before looking down at you, “If you’re, y’know, comfortable with it. Because…” 
Your ears flop down as she leans in, her snout basically touching yours. The way she stares at you seems to demand your attention. Whatever she’s about to say, it must be important. You nearly flinch as she opens her mouth again, pre-empting what she might say next. And what does she say?
“I can be a little ruff.”
Your embarrassment like, kinda deflates a little. You almost feel annoyed that you walked into that one. You look up at Fetch again, hoping it could relate, only to be greeted with a barely controlled snicker.
“But, really.” The sound of her voice turns your attention back to her. “If you wanna give yourself a test drive, we’ve got you covered.”As she speaks, Fetch’s paw returns to your head, and, like… wow.~ Your thoughts swim and spiral anew as you let out a content, short “hwrrff.” You tilt your head towards her, savoring her touch. Those gentle, drawn-out strokes. You detect a new scent wafting up from the two of them, fanned by their tails’ steady wags. You can’t put a finger on what it means until you feel a warmth between your loins, one that only deepens the more you breathe it in. You suppose that this is one of the many, many things that you’ll learn before dawn. The night’s just getting started, after all.
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linnorabeifong · 6 days
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DVD commentary from She'll Surprise You:
 For once he accepted her offer. This was his first time smoking. It wasn’t pleasant. He found himself choking from the stench and the dry feeling in the back of his throat. Agni, he couldn’t understand why anyone liked this. Yasuko just laughed and retrieved her cigarette. 
         “You okay there, Mr.Lightning ?” she said, fighting to hold back laughter. She looked like a dog does after finding a turtle-duck to chase. Entirely too pleased with herself.
         She was chewing on her nails as she spoke, another habit of hers he found absolutely disgusting. How Sayuri and the others tolerated her he never knew. She reeked of nicotine and sweat. She was all business, no pleasantries, no small talk, not an ounce of friendliness in sight. 
         Well, unless she was flirting with a client of course. Then there would be a whole show of sweetness put on. A spectacle of the saccharine. Agni, she made him want to gag. 
         She was cold. A ruthless, runty little thing. Eager to make a yuan however she could. Terribly jealous if the rumors were to be trusted. 
         She was never one to accept a nicety either. He’d made the mistake of trying to do her a favor once. She was beyond confused by his actions. As if all friendship was foreign to her. The Agni Kai’s were a family, why wouldn’t she just accept his care ? He was one of them after all. Instead of accepting his generosity she was all too eager to attempt to repay him…in ways he did not request. 
Oh this was fun to write and I need to get off my ass and finish this story. I have this whole elaborate plot in my drafts if anyone’s still interested. Hope you liked it ! This fic I really wanted to look at class differences ? Not super deep as I’m not the most informed. Throughout LoK there’s this clash of lifestyles that’s never really handled. Season one it’s Asami vs the brothers. Season two Bolin’s movie star life compared to his old one. Seasons three and four Suyin’s lifestyle vs the austere conditions across the Earth Kingdom. 👀
I wanted to make Zolt’s gritty world slam into Lin’s. They both have more things in common than not though…
( adult themes ahead)
So it’s a mix of things going on in this passage. Usually I write as ideas and moods come. On a Friday or Sunday I will carve out and edit a chapter to the best of my abilities in a span of an hour or so and then a week or two later when the mood comes again I will write more and maybe the next chapter too and I’ll reread it with fresh eyes, text it to my friends for feedback etc. I don’t just sit and write on a schedule.
Let’s get into the characterization going on…
In general I like female characters with a temper. Korra, Katara, Margaret ( Cat on a Hot Tin Roof), Azula, Rarity (MLP) , America ( the selection ) . So why not give Yasuko one as well ?
I loved your idea of Yasuko not being the soft tragic Disney mother. Again also enjoyed the thought of her being in a seedy environment and gang affiliated.
I also thought well what if she was still a non bender and still at least partially earth kingdom ? That would completely change her experience. What if she was disgruntled with the discrimination against non-benders ? Then folks it came to me that could generate so much tension between her and Zolt because even if they’re both at the bottom of society he’s better off than her. It gives her a reason to be a cold bitch. So even though she’s not the protagonist this is setting up room for me to write more about her. I wanted to establish her life as a mixed woman, without any bending.
As a mixed woman she’s rejected by both other EK people ( gets called a colonizer) and by other Fire Nationals ( she can’t actually be a member of Kai’s since she’s only half but Zolt doesn’t know that) . She doesn’t have the option of joining them or working at the power plant etc. She’s an impoverished immigrant whose dreams have been crushed . She went from the rural Fire Nation to the big city. From bright engineering student to prostitution when her money ran out.
“ Well, unless she was flirting with a client of course,” in reference to her line of work.
“Instead of accepting his generosity she was all too eager to attempt to repay him…in ways he did not request,” so one time Yasuko offered him a bj and he clutched his pearls like a grandmother seeing her granddaughter in a crop top ….😭. He was so scandalized, a hand on his heart like she had punched him with her words. “Yasuko, you don’t have to do that…,”
4. I envision Yasuko as southern Belle-like in her charms but also a villainess… or at least appearing to be a villain. Like how Asami wears originally written as a villain and is coded as an antagonist with the red and black clothing and sharp features.
5. Appearance is very important to me it communicates a lot. Yasuko’s bone thin, and dressed in dark clothing since the stains would show less. She’s frightening. She’s desperate to survive and that’s made her harsh. Her appearance reflects that.
6. Scent. Very important to me. Really helps with characterization and setting. Creates a mood in a way visuals and dialogue just can’t. Scent is the strongest trigger of memory. It’s an almost animalistic sense.
Really though this scene says more about Zolt than it does about her. He’s observant and caring but also judgmental. He’s making assumptions about Yasuko. It’s also hypocritical of him to frown on her being a prostitute while he himself is a gang member…
He’s also generous when he’s trying to play nice by taking that damn cigarette. That generosity makes him vulnerable. He falls right into her little game when he chokes on that thing… hmm.
Plot Shenanigans
She definitely knows more than she’s letting on and she’s pissed about it. Yasuko is jealous of Zolt… so she takes pleasure in watching him cough while trying the cigarette.
“Agni, she made him want to gag,” Zolt hates insincerity which is going to make his love life exceedingly difficult in a few chapters…
“She reeked of nicotine and sweat,” - He’s absolutely disgusted by her. They’re very reluctant allies. My little frenemies. Also like let women be gross on occasion. Wanted something less than pristine.
Enter my mind
I wanted to contrast her fierceness with just how sad she was.  “She was chewing on her nails as she spoke,”-poor thing is an anxious wreck
saccharine- have you ever had a dessert that was too sweet and gagged ? Or tasted something synthetic like cough syrup ? That feeling exactly.
Conclusion
I just love Yasuko so much. I will have to get started on resuming that story soon. I have so much more Yasuko back story if anyone wants it.
💗 I love bitchy prostitute Yasuko. 💗
Here’s a snippet of a bit further on in the story.
“Zoltan hated seeing women cry. Now seeing her cry he feels a unique kind of pain. A twinge in his chest he hasn’t felt since his mother died. 
Her pretty green eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and the ones she has shed have left tracks down her face and a puffiness in her cheeks. With her face all red like that she looks like one of those imported porcelain dolls. 
Her mascara has run down her face. Making a rough picture. A beautiful face like that should never be covered in makeup ruined by tears.
“Miss Beifong if you don’t mind my intrusion a man should ruin your lipstick, not your mascara”
If anyone wants to read it it’s posted on Ao3 you have to be signed in to Ao3 as it’s only available to registered users. My username is the same there as it is here.
Who’s the title referring to ? mmm you pick….
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luveline · 8 months
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Omg Jade, I’ve been LOVING the asf resurgence ☺️☺️ It hits my heart in all the right ways!!
I was wondering if would please write something showing more of the burrow from asf? Would love to see Molly (alongside Fred ofc!) doting on the reader. Maybe she feels poorly during a gathering? Just an idea - no pressure ofc to respond or to go in this direction. Thank you either way!!! 😊
tysm for ur request!! sorry this took me a whole month ♡ fem!reader, 1.5k
cw mental health issues/ poor eating habits
The popcorn is greasy between your fingers. You look down at a slightly burned kernel without much feeling, giving it a squeeze to listen to the styro-foamy groan as it breaks. 
The crumbs fall down the front of your hoodie. The mess is enough to make you feel something other than tired, blinking to attention while you pick tiny bits from your tummy. 
Fred's hand reaches over to help. "Whoops," he says, flicking them off of the sofa onto the rug. 
"Don't do that," you chastise without any heat, nudging his knee with yours. "Your poor mum will have to clean it up." 
"No she won't." 
"Are you going to hoover before we go?" you ask. 
Fred puts his hand on your thigh for an unapologetic feel. "No. She'd be offended." 
It's hard to describe how something as simple and as normal as Fred's hand on your leg can make you feel. Suddenly, you aren't alone in your head, feeling all sorts of awful. There's someone with you. 
Fred often laments (with sympathy) that you live in the past. He's not wrong. There are things that haunt you without pulling punches, stuff that makes you feel sick even though you can't remember how it all went anymore. It's like your body has caught hold of the way you felt at the time and is now throwing you into the deep end, no warnings. 
George takes the popcorn bowl from your lap, a lazy heist from his positioning on the floor. He, Ron, and Harry play a game of exploding snap that smells like no one's winning by your shoes. 
Bill and Fleur sit on bean bags by the fire, their legs interlocked, and the baby (who isn't a baby anymore, actually, a brand new toddler) waddles around the room in footie pyjamas. Every time you see Victoire, you wonder if she's an easy baby, and if you'd be a good mom. If you're even capable. 
Things tend to twist from there. Capable in any capacity? You're sure there are a hundred different things that Fred wants from you that he will never be able to have. A girlfriend who doesn't shut down when she's worried. A partner who pulls their weight. You let him down pretty much every day though he doesn't say, in your uselessness. You're awful. He deserves better than someone who's clinging to the bad things that happened to her (though you don't want to cling, you can't seem to make yourself stop). 
Fred's hand abandons your thigh. He sits up in his seat on the sofa to wrap his arm behind your neck instead, encouraging your head under his. With the side of his chin pressed to your temple, he doesn't say a word. 
Molly appears from the garden with a handful of fresh lemon balm. "Who wants a cup of tea?" she asks. 
Her eyes flicker straight for you. Fred told you once that Harry used to be her favourite child. It confused you —family is much more than blood, but still, there's so many to choose from and they're all brilliant, so why Harry? 
He was the one who needed the favouritism most, Fred says. Mum has a built-in pain detector. She knows when people need love. 
"We'll have a cup of tea," Fred says, rubbing your shoulder. 
"Obviously," Molly says, though what's obvious about it escapes you. "Anyone else?" 
There's a chorus of requests, most of which you can't keep straight. Molly's brilliant, she doesn't miss a beat. "Lovely," she says with a smile. 
"I'll come help you, mum," George says, using your legs as a brace to get up. 
You kick him without force in the leg. He turns to you, shooting you an adoring, saccharine smile with hands at his chest curved into a heart shape. 
"He's in a mood today," Fred says. 
Your sleeves bunch under his hands with every upward swipe. You sit there for a while feeling off. Something is wrong, some pit sucking you in, but nothing's happened. It's been a while since you felt this suddenly sick —you're better than you were, but you aren't better. 
"It's okay," Fred says, like he can read your mind. His reassurance kisses warm over your cheek. "Do you want to go home?" 
He doesn't seem upset with you. If anything, he's chipper, like he'd love to go home with you. It's a charade for your benefit to erase the guilt that comes with yanking him out of family time, and you don't fall for it. 
Yet you can't make yourself smile. You aren't as good of an actor as he is. "No," you mumble, pulling away from his loving embrace to meet his eyes. 
He inches closer, hand sliding down your arm. 
"I love you," he says very quietly. He's at risk of being heard by three different brothers, each of which might rip him to shreds for being as whipped as he sounds. 
You don't not want to say it back. Sometimes it's hard. Fred isn't telling you for a parroting, anyhow, and he doesn't care when you fail to answer. 
"Let's go help make tea," he says, standing up. You don't want to move, but you'd rather not stay by yourself. You've no choice but to follow him through the living room and into the kitchen. 
"Hi, dearie," Molly says. You realise she's talking to you, not Fred. "You look like you need something to eat. I'll make you something sweet, how does that sound?" 
It sounds like a bad idea. "That sounds great." 
She nudges George off with his tray of tea to stand in front of you. "There's a good girl," she says, squeezing your elbow. "Fred says you're not eating, but you were fine at breakfast. Feeling better?"
"Mum," Fred says, sending you an apologetic look. "Sorry, I don't mean to gossip about you–" 
"No, it's okay. It's nice, it's… a privilege to be worried about," you say, though you wish he wouldn't. 
Molly shakes her head, ginger kinks swishing over her shoulders. "It's not a privilege, lovely. That's just what family does, mm? You worry about Freddie, he worries about you, and I'll worry about both of you." 
"You don't have to worry about us, mum." 
"I know. It's a privilege, though, to be the one worrying," Molly says, offering you a gentle smile. 
"Right," you say. 
"So stop pretending you're okay and have a seat. Freddie, you better go and get her one of your blankets, I think." 
Fred grins and exits the kitchen quickly to avoid giving you time to protest. Ever a people pleaser, you sit down at the table in one of the chairs with a tall back. Molly puts down a cup of tea in front of you, swiftly followed by a plate of biscuits, a toasted, buttered currant scone, and a blueberry muffin sliced down the middle. 
That's what gets you. The muffin cut in half, paper peeled away. Molly has no reason to like you; you make Fred happy, but you know you've made him so, so sad, sometimes. You've weighed him down. You're not the best he could've had, but his family don't care. He doesn't care. He loves you enough to breeze into the kitchen with a throw blanket, wrap it around your shoulders, and nestle a kiss behind your ear. 
You scramble to grab his arms rather than let him stand again. He startles at first, but he recovers, and his arms curl around your front with enthusiasm that can't be faked. 
"I love you," he murmurs. Words slid together like he's tipped them out, impossible to deny. "Try not to wind yourself up, alright? It's a normal day. The only people who matter are you and me, yeah?"
"Yeah," you say through a lump. 
"I'll be just in the living room if you need me," Molly says. 
"Thanks, mum," Fred says, perching his chin atop your head. 
He waits for her to leave and plants a kiss on the highest point of your cheek. When you smile, he tracks them all over. Kiss to your head, your ear, the soft line of your jaw.
"Do you want to talk about something? Or should we think about other things?" he asks. 
It's a strange, coddling way to ask if there's something in particular that's upset you, but it's nice to be coddled. Truthfully, there's nothing concrete that hurts. A little bit of everything. The world is busy and life is hard and people aren't always kind, and you'll always be unbalanced by that. Luckily, Fred's there to hold you up, together, whatever you need. 
"Do you want half of my muffin?" you ask. 
"I'm eyeing up your scone, honestly." 
"You can have it if you want it." 
Fred hugs you tightly. "And deprive you? No way. I'll settle for the muffin if you feed it to me," he says hopefully. 
You twist in your chair, holding a bit of the muffin up for him to eat.
"I love you," you say. In a horror story, a nightmare, your nearly constant thoughts, he scoffs in your face. 
Fred swallows roughly. "I know. S'why you're gonna let me have half the scone, too." 
It's awfully cheesy, but you'd give him much more than a scone. You'd give him anything he asked you to give.
"Greedy," you say. 
"I resent that, ghost."
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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year
Text
Poetic Tragedy (Part 12)
Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo
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Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess? 
There's a little smut in this one for you guys looool
A/N: I can’t believe I was so inspired that I churned out a 12 part fic lmao. For some reason, I always struggle with writing long fics for Billy. For other fandoms, I can legit get up to an 80 part story. I think it's because I prefer writing OCs rather than reader inserts, but I know last I asked on here before I vanished that the Billy fandom prefers reader stories. 
The longest Billy fic I’ve done was Red, White and Blue which was a collab with @blanchedelioncourt and I think the only reason I managed that was ‘cause she was cheering me on the whole way and it was so fun writing together. That was also an OC story, not a reader one, and I did all Billy’s parts (which was ridiculously fun to do lol) while she did her OCs. I’d love to be super inspired to write a long ass Billy fic like I do with other fandoms. When I was away from this blog I wrote a 75 part Spike x OC story for the Buffy fandom lmaoooo 
—------------------
One year later
“You’re getting really good at that,” Curtis murmured and you would have seen his encouraging smile but you didn’t look up from your task. Your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration as you carefully threaded the needle through the skin, watching the wound close before your eyes. You’d stitched that many wounds these past few months that your hands didn't shake when you did it anymore.
“Ow, Jesus!”
Your eyes snapped up to your patient then, dangerously narrowing in warning at him. One hand was settled on his bare chest, the other holding the needle above the wound which was just below the shoulder.
“Do you want this stitched up or not?” you asked with a short tone.
“Curt, I think your little apprentice needs to work on her bedside manner,” he drawled with a smirk.
“Careful, Billy, or I might stitch your mouth up next,” you gave him a saccharine smile and he looked at you like he wasn't sure if you actually meant your words or not. You heard Curtis snort from across the room as you continued with closing the wound, tying it off like Curtis had shown you before cutting the thread. He hadn't even hurt himself on a mission or doing something brave. Instead, he’d hurt himself because he decided it was a good idea to go up a ladder after he’d had a few drinks. 
“What d'you think, Doc? Is it gonna leave a scar?” he asked with a self-deprecating smile since he was already littered with them, his eyes looking over to Curtis. Your eyes narrowed again and you poked him scarily close to his wound and he yelped, looking at you in shock. You never allowed him to talk shit about himself, especially when it came to his scars. Curtis came over, inspecting your patch job and he hummed, smiling at you.
“You’re gonna put me out of a job at this rate,” he smirked, making heat creep into your cheeks at his praise. 
So much had changed in the year that passed and you barely had any remnants of your old life. You and Billy had taken things slow as you’d both agreed on and he’d been a little more understanding, yet not very happy, when you’d left again. He’d come to visit you at your alley or you’d go there for dinner sometimes and it was nice as you got to know each other better. Eventually, you started staying the night there and as time wore on, you spent less nights out on the streets. And now, a year later, you didn't sleep on the streets at all but you didn't really miss it. It had been a gradual thing that progressed as your relationship with Billy progressed. The more serious you both got, the less time you wanted to be away from him and the cold and desolate streets of New York started to lose their appeal. You were glad you’d taken it slow though as you knew it wouldn't work out the same if you’d just moved in here right away. You’d needed to wean yourself away from your old life and it had worked. Your dislike of violence had Curtis seeking you out to help him in the infirmary. There were even more to the ranks here since last year and he needed all the help he could get. You found you had a natural touch when it came to healing and helping people. You finally had a place and a purpose here that wasn't directly linked to being in a relationship with Billy. 
Once Billy had his shirt back on, he stood up and leaned in to peck your lips. It had taken a bit to get used to such intimate gestures and touches with him, a little beyond what you were used to. But you liked it and with time, it started to feel second nature. Without Curtis needing your assistance anymore that night, Billy laced his hand with yours as he led you out of the infirmary and back into the main area. Your eyes drifted around, taking in the Christmas decorations as a warmth spread in your chest. It would be Christmas the next day. You’d never celebrated it before, not even when you had a home because your parents didn't care enough to give you one. You hadn't celebrated it the year before either as it was just after Billy had been in hospital and it wasn't really on anyone’s mind. But this year, Frank had declared you all would be celebrating it as you all needed some holiday joy. He’d turned up the day before with Billy and a huge ass Christmas tree that you were pretty sure they’d somehow stolen. It was said tree that Billy had been decorating when he’d fallen off the ladder and onto a box of decorations, some of which were glass. The place looked magical all dressed up like this with all the twinkling lights and tinsel. You’d been amused at watching the badass recruits all falling over themselves to joyfully decorate the place. It felt like a very large family and you loved it, never having that feeling before. 
“What do you think?” Billy asked, smiling at you as you took it in. You’d been in the infirmary most of the day so you hadn't seen some of the decorations and hadn't seen the tree that was now done.
“It's beautiful,” you murmured, a wistful smile on your face as you turned to him. Billy had confessed to you that he wasn't a huge fan of Christmas. He, just like you, hadn't had one growing up really and then he’d found Frank and the Castles. The Christmases with them had been something else and after they died, he never wanted to have another Christmas. You had a feeling it had also been hard for Frank. You hadn't been sure why they’d changed their mind this year until Billy told you that he wanted you to experience the magic that he had with the Castles, that you deserved it. And you had a sneaky feeling Frank was thinking something similar to Karen, although she most likely had some experience with the whole Christmas thing.
“I’m glad you like it,” he replied softly, cupping your cheek as your hands bunched into his t-shirt. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, melting into him the same as you always did. When he pulled away, his dark brown eyes were warm as he gazed at you and his thumb stroked your cheek.
“I love you,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly. You felt the butterflies swarming your stomach as you smiled up at him. No matter how many times he’d said it, you’d never get used to it.
“I love you too,” you smiled, leaning up to give him another kiss.
Things with you and Billy hadn't been plain sailing. You were new to any type of relationship and he was new to one like this and you both still had issues. His head still wasn’t quite right and you didn't think it ever would be after the trauma it had suffered and you had a temper. There had been a few explosive fights with you, when Billy was being unreasonable or overbearing and you couldn't hack it. After being on your own for so long there was no way you’d sit there and take orders. The pair of you could be stubborn but with time, you’d learnt to be better at the relationship. Learned to give and take. You both struggled to admit when you were in the wrong, but knowing how much you could hurt each other usually made you both humble up pretty quickly. You hated when you said something hurtful and you’d see his face fall, hurt flashing behind his eyes, and you knew he felt the same about you. The fights had become less frequent with each passing month and things had settled down nicely. The fights would no longer be drawn out for days as you both refused to back down and only made things worse and instead, whoever was in the wrong would sheepishly approach the other to apologize. And you both weren't assholes about either. You didn't prolong the argument by refusing the apology. Neither of you got any joy when you fought. 
You moved away from Billy, walking over to where your polaroid camera was sitting on the table. It had been an early Christmas present off Micro since he wouldn't be there for Christmas, instead spending it with his family. He’d given it to you two weeks prior when you last saw him, telling you he was too excited to wait closer to Christmas to give it to you. You’d accidentally discovered your love for photography when he’d let you use one of his cameras and he’d told you once that you seemed to be able to capture the beauty in anything, especially in the city you were so fond of. He had a collection of cameras and you’d been fascinated by the polaroid as it printed the picture instantly. There was something special about the fact the picture couldn't be edited or changed, that you had one chance to get the shot you wanted. Because nothing was perfect and capturing that was what you loved best. You’d been overjoyed and moved beyond words by his gift and you’d made good use of it. You swiped it off the table, aiming it at the beautifully decorated tree. You snapped a picture of it, setting it on the table to develop as you took a few more of the recruits decorating and laughing with each other, a cute candid of Frank and Karen snuggling on one of the many beat-up second-hand sofas that were now here. The place had changed so much since you’d first come here. It no longer just felt like a base of operations where a bunch of people were staying, but it felt more like a home. There was even a little recreational area on the first floor too now.
“I like that one,” Billy hummed from over your shoulder, looking down at the one of Frank and Karen in your hand as it fully developed. 
“Should I put it on the wall”? You asked, looking at him curiously. His lips curled into a smirk as he kissed the side of your head. He took the picture from you and you followed him as he went to the wall near the rec area, tacking the picture up with all of the many you’d put up there. Everyone seemed to enjoy that wall and would often come to look at it, sometimes finding one of themselves they hadn't even realized you’d taken. Billy had been a little harder to capture at first. He’d point-blank refused to be photographed because of his face. You’d tried your best in your time with him to reassure him, to show him you loved him no matter if he had scars. You felt that it had helped as slowly over the two weeks that you’d had the camera, he’d started to allow you to take pictures of him. You wanted him to see the beauty that you saw in him too.
Later that night, everyone was hanging out on the lower floor just having a fun and relaxed Christmas eve. A group of you were sitting on or around the sofas as you all played charades and you found it hilarious how competitive Frank and Billy could be and how they’d get annoyed with each other. Billy was the one up and you were sitting on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, courtesy of Annie who had made everyone one with some whipped cream and marshmallows. Some people had a splash of alcohol in theirs but you’d abstained.
“Movie title,” Frank asserted eagerly as Billy made a gesture. Frank was sitting on the edge of a sofa as Karen smirked at him. You still weren't even sure how to play the game but you found the whole thing amusing. Billy held up two fingers and Frank called out ‘two words’ and Karen snorted loudly into her cup. 
“First word, okay,” Frank muttered after Billy held up one finger. 
“Kill!” Frank barked after Billy made a motion like he was slitting his own throat. He shook his head, giving Frank an annoyed look and he’d only just started. 
“Dead! Murder!” Frank kept shouting out words and you slurped your hot chocolate and tried not to laugh at how eager he was about it all. Billy growled, looking ready to throttle him. He held up two fingers then and from what little you’d learned from watching them play, he’d decided to move on to the second word instead. He gestured to his crotch and you raised a curious brow as Frank looked stumped.
“Cock?! Dick?!” He yelled, Billy shaking his head every time and you almost choked on your drink as Karen started laughing. You couldn't believe how seriously they were taking it. Billy lay his hand over his crotch again before raising his hand, quirking a brow at Frank like it was obvious.
“The fuck is that supposed to be?!” Frank growled, only serving to make you and Karen laugh more and you weren't the only ones as everyone in hearing vicinity was finding it amusing.
“Goddamn it, Frankie! I was Die Hard, you fuckin’ moron!” Billy shouted, a vein in his neck bulging as he gave Frank a scathing look. 
“How was I supposed to guess that with that bullshit?” Frank huffed as he shook his head. 
“It was kind of obvious,” Karen murmured with a cheeky grin. Frank turned to her looking offended.
“You could have helped me,” he griped petulantly and she shot him a smirk.
“I’m not on your team, why would I do that?” she snorted.
“And you call yourself a Bruce Willis fan,” Billy scoffed, still glaring at Frank for letting the team down.
“When did I say that?” Frank asked, squinting at him slightly.
“Didn't have to. Was kinda obvious when you carried a picture of him overseas,” Billy smirked mockingly at him, making Frank gape at him.
“Like hell I did!” he yelled, standing up as he and Billy moved to stand toe to toe with each other, Billy’s eyes lighting up like he loved the prospect of a fight.
“Alright you two, sit your asses down,” Karen grinned, shaking her head as she shoved Billy over to you and Frank back in his seat. Billy was grumbling to himself as he sat with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You all stayed there for a bit longer watching some others play, it being a lot safer when Billy and Frank weren’t up and with their constant bitching at each other. 
“Should we give Frank and Karen their gift now?” Billy asked quietly from next to you. You looked at him, excitement radiating from every pore in your body. You’d been so excited about this that you’d pestered Billy to let you give it to them early. Seeing you practically wriggling where you sat with eager eyes, he chuckled before standing up, you following suit. 
“Hey, you guys got a minute?” Billy asked, tapping Frank on the shoulder as he interrupted their conversation. Billy moved over to where you were hovering, biting your lip to stop the smile from splitting your face as they walked over.
“What's up?” Karen asked, looking a little worried.
“Me and Y/N wanted to give you your present early,” Billy explained with a smirk, Karen and Frank glanced at each other for a moment before back at the pair of you.
“You sure? We can wait-” Frank started but you cut him right off.
“You’re not waiting! Come on!” you whined impatiently, earning a snort from Billy.
“Gotta come up and get it,” Billy grinned. They followed you both up the stairs, you and Billy sharing shit-eating grins as you got to your floor. But instead of going to the room you shared with Billy, you stopped outside of your old room. When you’d started to stay the night with him, it had been in his room and when you eventually moved in, neither of you really spoke about you having your own room as it felt pointless. Billy gestured with his head for Frank to open the door and he shot Karen a wary look before he pushed it open, walking inside with Karen towing behind him. You felt like you were vibrating you were so excited, you hadn't stopped being excited since Karen had told you the news a month before. It had been your idea and Billy had loved it. 
“Oh my god!” Karen cried out as you and Billy filed in after them. Your old room was now a rainbow-themed nursery, complete with a crib and all the furniture new parents would need and a bunch of stuffed animals. Karen was tearful, one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach as she soaked it all in and Frank was blinking rapidly as he looked around. He turned to you and Billy then with a meaningful look on his face.
“You didn't have to do this,” he murmured, his voice sounding raw. 
“We wanted to,” you replied softly, giving him a smile.
“You know I’ll always take care of you, Frankie, no matter what it is you need,” Billy’s voice was thick with emotion and you knew this whole thing had been tough for both of them after the loss of Frank’s family. Frank sniffled with a smile, moving to grab Billy in a long hug as they muttered something to each other you couldn't make out. Karen took your hand, tears down her cheeks.
“Thank you, I love it,” she said sincerely, trying to muster up a smile for you. You squeezed her hand as you smiled back with a nod.
“I’m glad you like it,” you replied. She moved to hug Billy then and Frank rested his hand on your shoulder.
“I really appreciate this, we both do,” he muttered firmly, leveling a look at you that told you just how much he meant his words. The four of you hung out a little bit in the new nursery as Karen and Frank really took in everything they had now for the new baby. After a while, you and Billy decided to head to bed and Karen and Frank went back downstairs, not ready to turn in for the night. You were over the moon they liked their gift and you couldn't wait for the baby to be born. You’d never had family or friends to experience this with before and you found the whole thing exciting. 
When you and Billy got to your room, you stripped out of your clothes and changed into your pajamas, which were essentially just a t-shirt of Billy’s and some panties. You climbed into bed with a yawn before Billy, who was only in his boxers, got in beside you. 
“You excited for your first Christmas?” he asked softly, rolling to face you. You copied him, now facing him and smiling when he tucked your hair behind your ear sweetly. 
“I am, I’ve already been enjoying the festivities,” you grinned, making him smile. He leaned over, kissing you softly but it quickly became heated as he rolled on top of you. You felt desire shoot through you like an electric current as he pressed himself against you, moaning into the kiss and getting a moan from him in response. Things on the sexual side had been slow at first with Billy, given your history and lack of experience. It had taken you four months to feel ready to take that leap and he hadn't put any pressure on you. Not even letting his hands wander when you made out like a pair of horny teenagers so he didn't make you think he was pushing you. You were grateful for him to let you take the lead, to let him know when you were ready. And after four months, you had been. You had no idea how to initiate it though since you’d never done anything before and your times with Josh had you lying there like a lifeless doll. And being as blunt as you were and seeing no sense in dancing around it, you’d just told him how you felt. You told him you wanted to take the next step but had no idea what you were doing. He didn't make you feel stupid or embarrassed about it either. He was kind and caring as he guided you through everything as you learned to explore sex with him. Something that had once been negative to you quickly became something positive and you’d even tried some things with him you never thought you’d be into. Trusting him as much as you did, you never felt embarrassed about trying things with him as you learned about yourself in a way you’d never had the chance to before. 
His kiss was bruising and you lost yourself in it. You never knew which Billy you would get in bed, soft and slow or hard and rough, but that was half the fun. It usually depended on his mood and you were happy to go along with whatever because you liked it either way. A fun perk of having your explosive arguments would be the just as explosive make-up sex. He slipped his hand into your panties and started circling your clit with ease, making you gasp and he moaned against your lips. He had you writhing against his hand in no time, panting into the kisses he was showering you with. But then he moved away, tugging the shirt off you impatiently and pulling your panties down. He rid himself of his boxers before lining himself up for you, not feeling up to much foreplay tonight it seemed as he sheathed into you in one fluid motion. Your moans mingled together and he propped himself up with one arm beside your head as the other grabbed your thigh, hitching it up a little. He started thrusting into you, not quite fast but not slow either and you arched up to meet each thrust. The hand on your thigh slid up and then around to your lower back, angling your hips in a way that had a loud moan erupting from you. He kissed you desperately, your bodies entwined together and you felt the pleasure gripping you like a vice. He moved to kneel up then, his hands trailing over your breasts as he palmed them, his thrusts slowing for a moment. It was like the calm before the storm before his hands gripped your hips tightly and he started fucking into you roughly. Your moans got louder and more desperate, your hands coming above your head to the headboard, needing to find purchase on something as your body jostled with the movement. Each thrust felt like it had the air being forced out of your lungs in a needy moan. You felt your pleasure increasing, your body tingling all over as you listened to his groans, watched his face contorted in pleasure with his mouth slightly open and his eyes screwed shut. 
“Billy,” his name tumbled off your lips like a fervent prayer and he let out a dirty moan that almost pushed you right over the edge. He was over you again in a second, his mouth claiming yours roughly as he kept his punishing pace with you. You could barely kiss him back in your delirium, moaning wantonly into his mouth as your back bowed up off the bed. It felt like you exploded into a million tiny fragments as your release washed over you. He moaned sinfully against your lips, thrusting into you a few more times before he came with a harsh and rough groan. 
The pair of you lay there panting for a moment, his forehead resting on yours as you came down from your high. But then he was giving you a dopey smile, kissing your lips tenderly. You hummed softly into the kiss and when he pulled out of you, you felt the loss instantly. He flopped onto his back looking tired and you wasted no time in rolling over, laying your head on his chest. His arms came around you with no hesitation, one of his hands going to your hair as he stroked it softly. 
“I love you,” you mumbled tiredly into his chest. He pressed his lips to your head for a moment, his arms around you tightening.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, making you smile against him as your eyes fluttered shut.
The next morning, you shuffled down the stairs sleepily with Billy by your side and a wrapped present in your hand. You’d been woken by Frank telling you both to get your asses downstairs. It had resulted in the sibling-like bickering you’d grown to be fond of between Billy and Frank since he’d walked right in and you had only a sheet for your modesty. But Frank had pointed out that Billy had walked in on him and Karen plenty of times. As you got into the main area, you saw a mountain of presents and smiled to yourself, seeing everyone milling around, eating breakfast or just hanging out near the big tree. Billy still had some of his money left over from his Anvil days, although it was slowly dwindling with no income to replace it and he was trying to be more careful with it. But he wanted to make sure every single recruit got a gift from him and Frank to show them they were appreciated. They’d sent Karen off with her investigative experience to figure out what to get everyone. All the presents were wrapped and had tags on and you wondered who the hell had managed that feat, having a feeling it was probably the machine also known as Karen. You spent the morning drinking coffee and nibbling croissants as you watched all of the recruits open their gifts. There was a warmth in your chest that seemed to be settled there, not moving since you’d come downstairs. Karen and Frank came over to where you and Billy were then, two wrapped presents in their hands.
“These are you for,” Karen murmured, handing you one as Frank handed Billy the other. You gave them a shy smile before you started to peel the perfectly wrapped paper and when you were done, you grinned. It was a beautiful dark brown coat with cream fur trim, some embroidered flowers along the bottom of it. It looked like it would fall past your hips. It had a retro vibe about it that you loved and you felt touched as your fingers danced along the fur.
“Thank you guys,” you said softly, beaming up at them. You didn't have a coat, you’d never bothered to get one and you didn't like the idea of Billy buying you one when you knew he was basically funding this place from the only money he had. You’d been using spare coats that were hung in a closet. 
“I thought of you as soon as I saw it,” Karen grinned, looking happy you liked it.
“Holy shit,” Billy breathed from next to you, sounding in awe. You turned to look at him to see a large knife in his hands, all black with a fancy-looking handle. He twirled it expertly before he shot you a dirty smirk and you felt your cheeks burn as you looked away quickly. While you had a distaste for violence, you found out only the week prior that you were pretty fond of Billy wielding a knife in the bedroom. You’d really surprised yourself with that one. 
“I fuckin’ love this,” Billy laughed, a bright smile on his face before he stood and grabbed Frank in a tight hug. Frank clapped him on the back before he moved away, eyeing the knife a little warily and you snorted. Billy then moved to hug Karen and you stood too. You still weren't much of a hugger with anyone other than Billy but you were slowly getting used to it and after the gift they’d just gotten you, you felt like it was a good moment. With Karen busy with Billy, Frank smiled warmly at you, moving over to grab you in a hug. He squeezed you a little before moving away.
“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” he murmured, making your throat feel a little tight. Karen wrapped her arms around you then, her hug a little longer than Franks. 
“Merry Christmas,” she smiled, pulling away. You felt a little overwhelmed and always conscious of your needs and knowing how you were feeling, Billy thanked them once again before moving you to sit once more. 
You and Billy sat there for a little longer, snuggled up together as you just enjoyed watching everyone have a good time. You kept wondering when you should give Billy his gift but he hadn’t mentioned anything yet and you were a little nervous so you just happily cuddled into him for a while. 
“Come on,” Billy murmured after a bit, pulling you up from your seat.
“Where are we going?” you asked, blinking up at him.
“The roof, get your coat,” he flashed you a smile and you grabbed his wrapped present before you grabbed your new coat, smiling to yourself as you put it on. It was so warm and cozy, you loved it. Billy grabbed his own coat, matching you slightly with the small amount of fur on his collar and you watched him as he tugged the hood from his hoodie out of it. He took your hand as he led you up to the roof. You’d both created a little area up here, like a little safe space just for you two. It had a sofa and a small table, some lights too. In the warmer months, you’d even camped up here much like he had set up for you the night before the Irish mob got wiped out and you loved it. The only thing you missed about being out here as you slept was being under the stars. You both walked to the sofa and sat down and you felt anxiety thrumming through you about your gift. You had no idea if he’d like it or not and with his moods, sometimes it was hard to predict how he might react. You wanted to get it out of the way so you handed him his gift first with a hesitant smile. He took it, slowly unwrapping it as your eyes stayed glued on his face for even the smallest of reactions. If things went south, you weren't above grabbing it off him and running back downstairs. Once opened, he was faced with a black velvet scrapbook and he raised a brow at you.
“Open it,” you encouraged, a nervous smile on your face as he did as you asked. There were pages of various pictures of people he cared about. Frank, Karen, Curtis and Micro. Some of the recruits doing drills or just hanging out. There were even a couple of the Castles that Frank had given you when you told him what your present idea had been. Billy swallowed thickly as he turned page after page, taking it all in and getting noticeably emotional whenever he saw one of the Castle’s.
As the pages drew on, he started to be included in the pictures. One’s of him and Frank or him and Curtis or Micro, some of them altogether. Most of them were candid pictures given he didn't like posing for pictures and there was a sweet one of him giving Karen a hug from her birthday that year. The next page was filled with just pictures of him, all of them candid and he had no idea you’d taken and this was the part you were worried about the most. You knew how self-conscious he was, knew his aversion to having pictures taken, so you hoped he wouldn't be upset by it. There were pictures of him training or running drills, some of him cleaning his guns or knives. Various candid shots of him smiling or laughing as he spoke to someone but you managed to just get him in the shot. There was even one of him sleeping, looking peaceful and serene. He didn't look at you as he took it all in, his Adam's apple bobbing as his dark eyes swept over all the pictures of himself. He turned the page and was greeted with the last two pages that were full, you’d left some empty to add to later, and it was full of the pair of you. He only ever allowed you to take pictures of him if he was with you and you had a good number of them. Cheesy shots with a bright grin on your face, ones you’d taken after saying something to purposely make him laugh. There was one of the pair of you lying in bed together looking incredibly rumpled with sleepy smiles on your faces. There were even a few you hadn't taken yourself but Karen had. Some candids of the pair of you she’d decided to take since she knew what your plan had been. And you were grateful for them, you loved them the most. One of you sitting on Billy’s lap on the sofa, the pair of you smiling at each other. One of you laughing together and another of him training you in basic self-defense. There was one of you clinging to him after he’d come back from a job, his hand in your hair with his eyes closed, a relieved smile on his face. There was even one Karen had taken of when Billy had purposely made you walk under some mistletoe with him just two days before and then kissed you.
 
Billy was uncharacteristically silent as he looked at them all and you toyed with your hands restlessly, unsure if he liked it or was upset with you. 
“Do you like it?” you asked quietly, dread coating your tone as he just sat there staring for what felt like forever.
“I uh…” his voice cracked and he clamped his mouth shut for a moment before taking a steadying breath. You noticed then how shiny his eyes were as he looked right at you. You felt breathless at the sight.
“I love it. I don't even… I never thought I’d like lookin’ at pictures of myself again. But this is… it’s amazing. Micro was right, you really do capture the beauty in anything,” he murmured, his voice wavering a little. He reached out and clutched your hand, your body relaxing infinitely knowing he liked it. It touched you that he was moved so much by it. That it meant so much to him, as much as it meant to you when you put it together.
“It’s not hard to capture beauty in something already so beautiful,” you replied, a loving smile on your face. His eyes softened as he brought your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on it before he tugged you. You wound up straddling him and his hands slipped inside your coat, settling on your hips. 
“Thank you. It's the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said sincerely, squeezing your hips a little. You felt your cheeks heat up a little as you smiled down at him, your hand coming to toy with the short hair at the base of his skull.
“I was worried you wouldn't like it. It meant a lot to me, putting it together. It's special… you're special,” you breathed, gazing down at him. His lips curled into a smile, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck as he pulled you down for a kiss. He seemed to pour his gratitude into the kiss and when you pulled away, you felt lightheaded. 
“Time for your present,” he smirked, but it seemed a little off. Tense somehow. It took you a moment to realize he was nervous too and it was slightly endearing that you hadn't been the only one worried. He pulled something out of his coat pocket before holding it in front of him. It was a small black box and he toyed with it for a moment, eyes darting from you to the box before back at you. He didn't say anything as he cracked it open and revealed a beautiful silver ring. There was a large diamond in the middle and two sapphire stones on either side. You blinked down at the very expensive looking gift for a moment, unsure what to say.
“It doesn't haveta mean anything. It- It could just be a… a pretty ring you wear,” he started, unable to look at you as he shook his head.
“What do you want it to mean?” you asked slowly, unsure where he was going with this and his weird presentation of the ring to you. He took the ring out of the box, setting the box on the sofa beside you, still not looking at you as he stared at it.
“I’d ask you to… to marry me, but uh… I’m a wanted fugitive so I don't see us… don’t see us walking down the aisle anytime soon,” he muttered with a chuckle, seeming unsure of himself. His words stole the breath from your lungs and your heart started beating like a hummingbird's wings in your chest. He looked up at you then, his dark eyes boring right into yours for a moment and suddenly, it seemed like his nerves melted away from him.
“I want it to mean that I love you. That I want forever with you. It means… It means that I-I found all I ever needed right here with you. It means that when I’m with you… the world just… it stops turnin’. Nothin’ else matters when I’m with you. All the bullshit I’ve been through, all the pain and loss and hurt… none of it matters. It means that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how long that might be and I don’t need no damn papers to make it real,” he implored firmly, his eyes boring into you. You blinked at him for a long moment, brain trying to wrap around that he was essentially asking you to marry him. Your chest ached with the happiness you felt and you felt your eyes start to sting but you tried to push the tears away. You were rendered mute for a moment in your shock and awe and he looked back to the ring looking uncertain of himself. You cleared your throat, sniffling a little as you held your hand out.
“Are you going to put it on then?” you asked wryly, the emotion in your voice betraying how touched you were by his words and gesture. His eyes snapped back to you then looking almost surprised by your reaction.
“You're… you’re sayin’ yes?” he asked hesitantly. Your face broke into a grin and you wiped a stray tear that had escaped that was rolling down your cheek.
“Of course I am, did you really think I’d say no?” you asked with a snort. The smile that split his face was blinding and made you feel like he’d just shoved you off the roof. He took your hand in his, carefully sliding the ring on your finger. 
"I love you," he murmured, smiling at you.
“I love you too,” you grinned, leaning down and kissing him sweetly. He wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back and suddenly, he’d shifted you and your back hit the sofa with him on top of you. He shot you a devilish smirk and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.
“It’s too cold for that up here,” you snorted.
“I got ways to warm you up, sweetheart,” he teased with a grin before leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 
The weight of the ring felt heavy around your finger but it wasn't a negative feeling, it was comforting. You’d grown up being unloved by the people who were supposed to care the most, spent the rest of your life being forgotten by society and shunned for circumstances beyond your control. All your life you’d been shown you were worthless and not worth loving. That you were damaged and you’d declared yourself as too broken to be fixed, passed the point of saving. And then you’d found Billy. He’d slowly put the pieces of you back together as you healed. You weren't perfect, but he treated you like the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold. You’d forever have imperfections and flaws from the life you’d had before, but he sealed every fracture with love and affection that was changing you into a better version of yourself and you hoped you did the same for him. Alone you were both broken, but together, you were now whole. 
Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)
@firexfate
@blanchedelioncourt
@ariesbutalibra
@sunshinedaisies-anddeath
@snowkestrel
@music-indie-tv
@idaofinfinity
@sweetserendipity65
@ramadiiiisme
@k-marzolf
@celestialams
@woowwwee
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moon-kn1ght · 2 years
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pairing: steven grant x fem!reader wc: 2.3k warnings: dark fic, yandere!steven grant, non con voyuerism, mutual masturbation, stalking sort of, dead dove do not eat. a/n: sorry for this, but i couldn't get it out of my head any other way.
Steven Grant had a crush. Well maybe, it was more than that. Maybe it was a fascination. Almost an obsession. 
He’d ask Donna to schedule him on days that he knew you were working. He’d hang around his friend in the security office so he could watch the cameras as you entered the building. You never noticed the happenstance ways Steven would always bump into you as you entered, somehow he’d always be there. Maybe you did notice it but you chose to ignore it. 
Steven didn’t have the courage to ask you out, though. Even after the whole discovering he’s a superhero thing. He knew that Marc and Layla wouldn’t want another person around — they were content with just the three of you. 
But Steven wasn’t. Not quite. 
So he resigned himself to watching.
He tried to keep his distance. He didn’t want to form an attachment that he’d never be able to act on. 
He’d watch your museum tours from the paned glass of the soft shop. He’d see the way your smile would radiate warmth to the schools groups that you brought around, engaging students and chaperones alike. 
And he couldn’t ignore the looks you go from teachers and chaperones — the way their eyes would track up down your body, their gaze burning past your clothes to imagine the breasts and ass that lie underneath your modest layers. 
Sometimes, the more daring adults would try and ask you out after the tours. They’d linger and lean against the wall, caging your body in from their looming presence. You’d shrink but stand firm, “I’m very flattered, but no thank you.” When they’d insist you’d pull the “I have a boyfriend —“ line. 
“Which is a lie,” Steven would remind himself. 
There’s this low frustration always simmering inside Steven — this ache that consumes him when he thinks too hard about he can’t have you. 
But the frustration grows into a low rage when he sees these other men hitting on you, asking you out, and not taking no for an answer. 
“Why can’t I deliver justice to these creeps?” Steven will ask Khonshu. “She needs me to protect her.” 
Khonshu doesn’t gratify him with a response. 
— 
Steven knows he’s breaking all of his own rules following you home. 
But he’s not doing it for himself — it’s to protect you, which is what his rules are for in the first place. “So it’s okay to break them,” he’ll reason. 
Today, the creep asking you out wasn’t taking no for an answer. He even put his hand on your shoulder. So you threatened to call security on him. 
“Fucking cunt,” he spat at you.
Steven saw the whole thing from the glass walls of the gift shop. You seemed way more shaken than you usually were after encounters of the like. 
“Hey, all you alright? I’m so sorry you had to deal with that twat.” 
Your disposition softened when you turned and saw Steven. “Oh hi. Yeah, I’m okay.” 
“That guy seemed like a real arse. You handled it admirably.” 
You forced a small laugh, “Yeah, he was. Dudes like him are just getting more and more gall. Ugh, it’s so frustrating.” 
“You’re telling me,” Steven whispers under his breath. “We need to get you one of those old folks ‘help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!’ buttons — then you can press and summon a friend whenever you’re dealing with someone like that.” 
Your smile was starting to reappear. 
“—well not to say that you can’t handle it on your own. I mean, I’m just ..” 
“Steven, yes I get what you mean.” 
“—what I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t have to always having to be dealing with it on your own. You deserve a friend to help, whenever you want it.” 
“Thank you Steven, that’s a very kind thought.” 
There’s something about the way you say Steven’s name. It’s different than everyone else in the museum and even different from how Marc and Layla say it. There’s a saccharine sweetness that drips from your pronunciation of the ’S’ and the way the ‘v’ vibrates from your closed lips. 
When you say his name he can’t help but stare at your lips. 
(And sometimes he imagines how it would sound to hear you saying his name as you came around his fingers or his cock). 
“It’s the end of my shift, I could walk you home? In case there’s someone lurking in the night.” 
You smile but turn him down, “I’m a big girl Steven, I’ll be fine. I promise.” You reach out and squeeze his hand. The small gesture sends a shiver down his spine.
He lets you turn and walk off. His feet stay glued to the tile as he watches you head to the back room and clock out. 
Maybe it’s his imagination but Steven could swear that he feels eyes boring into him. Eyes that track you, just as he did. Eyes that probably belong to some unsavory creep. 
“Fuck it,” Steven mumbles to himself as he punches his timecard back in the gift shop. He catches sight out you heading out front door and follows, tailing at a safe distance. 
You don’t notice him on the underground train. He sits on the other side of the car and watches you not look up from your smartphone even once during the 8-stop journey. “Quite dangerous, not being aware of your surroundings,” he thinks. 
He tracks your movements from a half a block back as you walk down the street. For as much time Steven has spent watching you at the museum, he never noticed how graceful your long strides looked. In the dim light of the street lamps your silhouette is cast beautifully. To Steven, you look like the subject of an expensive painting. 
Part of Steven knows that he should turn and walk home when you open the door to your building. But the other part of him keeps him still, standing in the shadows. 
There’s a fire escape on the front of the building. With a little Mr. Knight action, he’s quickly up on the second floor of your flat, white suit pressed against the brick of the building exterior. 
“Now I’m beginning to regret the reflective qualities of this white suit..” he mumbles. But his attention is quickly diverted when the light of your flat turns on. He can see you in the kitchen pouring yourself a rather large glass of wine. You sink into the velvet of your couch and Steven can see the reflection of the Netflix logo in a framed piece of art on the opposite wall from your tele. 
Sitting down with his back still pressed against the brick, Steven imagines being curled up with you on that couch. Your head would rest against his shoulder and he could stroke your hair or let his hands roam your body. You probably have great takes on this season of “Love is Blind” that could share with Steven as he peppers kisses all over your neck. 
In this perfect scenario, you’d be pleased when Steven gets hard in his pants as you whisper sweet nothings to him. You’d gladly take his cock in your hand or mouth and help him find his release. And it would be soft and warm and lovely, much better than his own hand could ever feel. 
Steven can feel a boner forming uncomfortably in his pants as he imagines this. “Fuck. Now is not the time for this to be happening.” 
He shifts awkwardly in his tight pants as his eyes track you downing the glass of wine and getting ready for bed. 
Your bed is much too large for one person. Your body looks so small enclosed in my all the pillows and the larger comforter. It must be warm in your flat because it seems like the moment your breathing slows down and you fall asleep, your legs kick off the comforter. Steven isn’t complaining though, because it reveals a nice view of your bare legs. The small nightgown you’re sleeping in rides up your hips and you settle into sleep. If he were only a little closer, Steven could tell whether or not you’re wearing underwear. 
“What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck?” 
Guilt crashes in waves over Steven’s consciousness. He’s followed a girl home and watched her from the window. He’s a fucking creep. There’s no other word for it. 
But still, even through these ugly feelings of guilt, Steven wants more. He’s so fucking close. Steven wants to smell you. He wants to touch you. It’s fucking overwhelming how much he wants it. 
His gloved fingers grip the edge of the window and press up. The window opens with a deafening creak. 
He’s done for. 
Your body stirs but your breathing remains steady and slow. 
Steven lets out a deep breath. 
He crouches and enters your bedroom, his white shoes making muffled noises as the press into the ornate rug covering the floor. As he takes it in, he’s overwhelmed with the scent of you that fills the air. It’s warm and lovely and perfect, just like you. 
You lie at an angle across the bed. Your face looks delicate and so unbothered against your pillow. Everything is so still. Your lower body has twisted its way out of the confines of your bedding and as Steven stalks closer, his heart about stops when he sees that you’re not wearing panties. 
Right in front of him, right in front of his very eyes is your pussy. He can’t help but gape, open-mouthed. 
There’s nothing more that he wants than to bury his nose between your thighs right now and get a taste of the deliciousness that you are undoubtably hiding inside your folds. But that would for sure wake you. And he can’t have that. 
Steven leans against your bed, careful to not shift the weight of your body. 
Taking a risk, he reaches forward and pushes your nightgown up further on your hips, revealing the full beauty of your ass. 
His cock is already leaking precum, trapped untouched in his pants. 
He lets his fingers graze lightly against your skin. Goosebumps form where they trail but you remain deep asleep. His finger traces down your ass and just barely touches your folds. Steven thinks that they’re the softest things he’s ever felt. 
Suddenly, a stale breeze blows in through the window. 
Khonshu. 
“I always you were going to be a pervert, worm.” 
“Why are you here?” 
“Isn’t your duty to protect to the travelers of the night?” 
“You didn’t answer my question Old Bird.” 
“What do you call this?” 
“Stop.” 
“Is this what you call protecting?” 
“Khonshu, stop.” 
“Oh worm, this is just too perfect.” 
Khonshu stalks around the room, looming across from Steven pressed against the bed. With him, stale air rolls across the room. 
“Don’t mind me, I’ll be here.” 
“Who’s the pervert now?” 
The Old Bird scoffs at Steven’s comment. “I’ll fill her head with dreams and you can do as you please. My treat, little worm.” 
Steven swallows slowly, letting his eyes move from Khonshu’s figure back to you on the bed. 
To test the bird’s promise, Steven roughly grabs a handful of your ass. A small whimper escapes your lips but your eyes stay closed. 
Pushing the guilt and gross feelings to the side, Steven continues his exploration of your body. His fingers press against your soft folds and its him this time who lets out a sound as he presses into your pussy. Your heat closes around him and he grits his teeth. Steven isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this submerged in pleasure from anything else before. 
He strokes in and out of you, soaking in the soft mewls you release as Khonshu keeps you asleep. Your body reacts more, wetness coating his fingers and your legs jerking as he thumbs over your clit. 
In tandem, Steven frees his cock from inside his pants. One hand inside of you and one hand wrapped around his own length. He matches motions with both hands, imagining that his cock is actually inside of you. 
“Fuck,” Steven mumbles as his pace falters. He tries to focus more on playing with your body than chasing his own release, but he’s failing. After so much pent up energy, he’s closer than he’d like to be. He drops his length and inserts a third finger into your warmth. He strokes, aiming to find the spot inside that is going to make you fall apart. 
Your hips jolt up into his hind when he finds it. 
“Oh that’s it, yes baby.” 
Khonshu lets a dark chuckle from across the room. 
“Let go for me,” Steven coaxes as he focuses his attention on your clit. Your body shudders and your breath quickens. Steven can’t help but rut his hips up against the bed as he watches you squirm and moan under his touch. It’s better than his wet dreams of you. 
One more thrust into the sweet spot and your noises tell Steven that he’s got your orgasm, pairing with the flush of wetness that coats his fingers.  
Steven lets out a sigh and pushes the dark thoughts out of his head. 
“Forgetting something?” Khonshu probes, pointing his staff at Steven’s neglected length. 
Using the cum that seeped out of you, Steven wraps his hand around himself once more and begins to stroke. He drags his thumb over the head, swiping at the precum that leaks out the tip. It feels so fucking good to have the stickiness of your release lubing his motions on his cock. 
With a particularly rough tug, Steven lets himself come, painting your ass with his seed. Remnants drip out of the tip, mixing with your slick on his fingers. 
Disgusting and delicious, Steven sucks on the coated fingers. It’s the perfect mix of sweet and tang and alkaline bitter. It’s a taste Steven will never forget. 
— 
“How are you doing today?” Steven queries with almost innocent intentions. “Get home safe last night?” 
“Yes Steven, thank you for asking.” There it is again, that sweet way you say his name. “But I will admit, I had the strangest dreams. I think I shouldn’t drink wine before bed anymore, must be something with the tannins.” 
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