#we see less and less of his uniform
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shut up kiss me.
pairing: theodore nott x reader
song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.
author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭
Theodore. Fucking. Nott.
Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far.
You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy.
“Where the hell is he?”
He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”
“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.”
The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”
The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst.
“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”
“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”
Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!”
Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard.
You were going to kill him.
“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso.
“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”
Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”
Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?”
“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”
“Just hear him out, okay?”
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”
“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.”
“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.”
“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.”
You huffed. “That makes two of us.”
The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively.
“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”
“For what?”
“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?”
“He deserved it.”
“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?”
Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.”
“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?”
His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”
“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?”
Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.”
You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?”
When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury.
“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.”
The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.
“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.”
You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go.
“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.”
Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick.
“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”
“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.”
“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.”
You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence.
“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”
The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you.
For crying in front of your worst enemy.
The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer.
“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.”
Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.”
You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?”
He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you.
“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”
You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!”
Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.”
Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.”
The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up.
“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…”
Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?”
The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control.
“Because you never told me, you idiot!”
“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.”
You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was.
“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?”
Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest.
“Because at least you were thinking of me.”
You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once.
Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.”
He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up.
“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks.
“You have nothing to apologize for, love.”
“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.”
“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.”
Because at least you were thinking of me.
It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved.
“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.”
Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?”
You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field.
So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on.
“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?”
You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin.
“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.”
Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.
“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?”
He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed.
Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive.
If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning.
It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night.
Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place.
You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way.
“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”
Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died.
Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste.
He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth.
“Need some help, love?”
You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours.
Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat.
Then he fucking moaned.
It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again.
“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”
“What is it, Theo?”
“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.”
“What are you saying, Theo?”
“I want you to be mine, Y/N.”
You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”
“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.”
“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”
“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.”
He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future.
You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you.
“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?”
He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.”
You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?”
“Everything about you turns me on.”
“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.”
“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.”
You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down.
“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.”
“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.”
“I bet you are, darling.”
You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.”
He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”
Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off.
On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?”
“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?”
“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.”
Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.”
“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.”
He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.”
You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.”
“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?”
“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”
“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”
You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.”
“Yes ma'am.”
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#double feature cause i have no self control baby#theodore nott#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theo nott smut#theo nott x you#theo nott imagine#theodore nott x you#theo nott fluff#theo nott fic#theodore nott fic#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n
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He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.
It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.
“Good morning, Mr. Riley.”
“It’s just Simon,” he tells you as he takes his card off the counter.
The following day, it’s the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.
He nudges Simon with his elbow. “She’s kinda pretty, huh?”
“Say it any louder, and she’ll hear you, mate,” he grumbles.
Simon’s not blind; of course, he knows you’re pretty, but he doesn’t have time to commit to anything outside of work—even if you smile at him like you’re happy to see him and how he’ll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.
Honestly, it’s that you—
(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think it’s just for him because on the days he doesn’t come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)
It’s weird because it’s almost like you—
(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasn’t talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again.
Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)
He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.
You’re just…he’s not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.
Sometimes, he wishes—
(Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. He’s dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isn’t like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.
Then you walk into the bar in a dress that’s probably too light for early spring in London—even though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the table—and he wishes he wasn’t introducing you as his friend.)
But you—
(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gym’s business cards—it’s weird that we don’t have each other’s numbers, so message me sometime or whatever—and he messages you ‘hey’ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later.
It slowly shifts and changes over time.
You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, it’s better.)
You really are—
(His house feels too hot, and he’s distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.
It feels monumental—something more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the bar—a tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place.
He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.
“Can I…would you—fucking hell,” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “Can I kiss you?”
When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissing—him licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you mumble, lips brushing his.
“Me too,” and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)
“I knew you’d be trouble,” he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.
“Oh, yeah?” you giggle, leaning into his side.
“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. “A real pain in my ass, love.”
“But yours.”
This time, he does smile. “Yes, but mine.”
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#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost imagine#simon riley fluff#cod imagine#cod x reader#cod fic#mw2 x reader#mw2 imagine#.things i write
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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 ��𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧
Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡
cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.
A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.
“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.
“I wanna see Max.”
“She has to be here somewhere.”
That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.
Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.
Steve frowns at you worriedly.
“Who died?” asks a new voice.
You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.
“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.
“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”
“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.
“Is it awful?” you ask.
“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.
“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.
“Dustin. He’s outside.”
Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”
He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.
“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.
You school your impression. “Like what?”
“Like you like him.”
You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”
She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”
“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.
“Looks like something. Are you dating?”
“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”
“He was touching you a lot.”
“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.
“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.
“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—
“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.
You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.
“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.
Oh, boy, you think.
As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.
From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.
Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.
“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”
“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.
“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”
“Steve.”
“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”
“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.
“What?” he asks.
His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles
You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”
“I sounded weird?”
“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”
You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.
“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.
“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”
Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.
“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”
You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.
After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?
“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.
You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.
“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.
He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.
“You were in the way of the light.”
“That what it was?”
“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.
“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”
Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.
“It’s good.”
“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”
He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.
Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!
You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.
You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.
He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.
You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.
“You okay?” he whispers.
You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.
Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.
The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.
A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.
“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“I really like you, Steve.”
He stares at you. “…But?”
“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”
“I thought…” And of course he did.
“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”
He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.
“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.
“Yeah.”
Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”
“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”
“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”
“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”
“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.
“I like you too!” he says loudly.
A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”
You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.
“You okay?” he asks tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”
You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”
He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”
You nod vehemently.
Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”
—♡—
The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.
A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.
“I think I might melt.”
“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.
“You can be my parasol.”
“Your what?”
“It’s a sun umbrella.”
“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.
You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.
He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”
If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.
“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.
He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.
“No… I’m thinking.”
“Nothing good ever comes of that.”
“I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.
“It’s a question.”
He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.
“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”
“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”
He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”
“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”
His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.
“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.
“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.
His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.
You tip your head aside to catch your breath.
“Better late than never,” you joke.
Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington drabble
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Ken's progression OUT of color
This is kinda a cornplate thought that I had nowhere else to put but I love how in the Barbie movie(SPOILERS), Ryan Gosling's Ken's outfits symbolically showcase his "descent" into full patriarchy mode over time.
At the beginning of the film Ken's beach outfit (his default) has an equal balance of pink and blue. Pink is obviously Barbie's color, and shows Ken as fitting well into the femininity and style of Barbieland, while blue could be argued to be Ken's color (a scene later when he's especially confident features him wearing all denim blue, and the stereotypical gender of these colors, especially when found in kid's toys, supports these basic binaries as associated with these colors).
When Ken decides to leave Barbieland with Barbie to delve into the outside world, his color scheme goes full pink, desperate enough to be with Barbie that his attire reflects how dependent his identity is on hers at this stage.
However, it isn't long before Ken's exploration of the real world leads him to exciting new discoveries about the patriarchy and what it can do for him. Here he is introduced to a newfound sense of self independent from barbie, and while he still carries a pink scarf around his neck, the rest of his outfit has devolved into black and white while hers has remained colorful. As he pursues this new-to-him idea further, his worldview is becoming less unique, pretty, and vibrant(in addition to becoming much more masculine).
It is only his scarf that ties him to Barbie now, and upon making the choice not to follow her to Mattel, he becomes fully independent, losing the scarf and any trace of pink in his attire the next time we see him in his mojo dojo casa house coat and beach off outfit underneath.
In his most masculine moment during "Just Ken", he and the other Kens all wear a uniform of the most traditionally male ben shapiro outfit ever: A T-Shirt, belt, and dress pants. All black(and no white either to contrast like the previous 2 outfits). It's fitting that the Kens, in their destructive warpath, imagine themselves as perfectly cleaned up yet violently masculine dancers in their heads, their outfits devoid of all of the flair and character of Barbieland.
(excuse the shitty picture) After Ken has his little self-growth moment, his new sweatshirt reflects the changed and much more balanced man he has become, much more accepting of himself and a life where he can co-exist with Barbie without being with her. This outfit is again an almost perfect balance of pink and blue, both sides of Ken now a bit more at peace, his colors not pushed out by the LITERALLY black hole of toxic masculinity.
The color scheme also matches the roller blading outfit, so perhaps it shows a somewhat intermediary stage of Ken's development wherein he is still attached to and at peace with Barbieland, but where he is starting to become more independent as well.
anyway these are all fun and i genuinely have no fucking idea why Mattel didn't cash in on literally making dolls of all the characters and their outfits these would be so fun to own
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How To Suck Roid Clit and Tdick Like A 6Gal Bauer ShopVac
So I'm a trans man and I fucking love trans men and they love fucking me. I minored in t4t gay sex in college and giving head has always came very naturally to me as a specialty, administering orgasms has never been an issue but a lot of people have difficulty figuring tdick out after going on testosterone or figuring themselves out and don't know how to get dudes to pop off which is tragic to me. Plus we don't really have like... sex ed about how to do that so it's not like you can pick up a book. But that's what you have me for. If you suck at giving head I'm gonna teach you how to suck the rest of someone's life away.
So everyone is different, growth might look different on different people and sometimes you'll have somebody who has difficulty popping off just cause of weird nerve endings, obviously listen to what your partner tells you and what works for them because they're going to know better. I've been around with a lot of different men and this is just what's worked for me, if you try it and its TERRIBLE then don't think you're broken or whatever, our willies are just as diverse as we are :)
Generally though tdick kind of resembles a tiny penis especially when you've been on T for a long time. Personally I've been on T for five years and have a 2 inch monster and you can kind of see where the head would be vs the foreskin or whatever. Like my favorite analogy is that it looks like a .45 caliber bullet because that's what my dick looks like when I'm looking down, lol.
Like the cap on the bullet would be the "head" and the cartridge casing is the length of the thing. Like on a guy's dick idk if anybody is getting tdick circumcized so when he's soft the skin will come up and guard the head/clit part because it's sensitive, you're going to want to find the head and kind of gently push past the skin with your tongue or your finger. Like get it on the head because largely that's the most sensitive part of his dick. when it gets bigger it kind of gets less sensitive, and you can't just rub the whole thing like on a clit off testosterone, uniform pressure might not always work. So keep your finger on the pulse, lol.
The simplest motion tht you can do, like a good part to lick on is right where the head meets the rest of his dick. There's almost a seam, kind of like on that bullet. Just rub in little circles with your tongue. Start gentle, gauge his reaction, and then go a little harder or a little faster. Also stay in one place once you get into a groove, the more you rub on one spot the more sensitive and the better it will feel.
On the very APEX tip of his dick is where most of the nerves are bundled it's going to be the most sensitive, so if you want to make him jump or if he's not very sensitive rub there, lol.
Also, once you get that down, you can suck too! You want to make a seal with your lips around his dick, almost like you're pulling on a cigarette, or like you're sucking your lips on a peach to keep the juices from falling out. This intensifies it if his dick is not sensitive and keeps it in one place if he has a big dick.
If he likes penetration fingering him at the same time is not a bad idea either.
Also, mind the teeth, lol.
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DPxDC Warlock Batfamily
They're not warlocks in the traditional sense, no fancy spell work or obvious theming. In fact, most anyone less magically attune than John would just assume they were metas like anyone else on the team, but they weren't.
It took a while to notice, just passing off the magical fluctuations around them as the ebb and flow of the natural world, or maybe some residual curse vibes from Gotham (ew). But it was too consistent. When Batman slipped into the shadows it pulsed, and when Oracle seized control of nearby computers it surged. When Nightwing took his inhuman leaps into the air simply trusting that he would reach his lading point it soared and when that nightmare of a Robin brought a room to darkness it rested like a heavy weight on his shoulders.
They weren't individual users, their eclectically cohesive group structure was too uniform for that; but they weren't some family of sorcerers either, being quite obviously unrelated by blood save for a few. The most likely answer was that they were all warlocks in service to some common diety, taking on aspects of its power to enforce it's will upon the mortal world- and John really hoped it was a helpful entity, because they were in deep shit.
Peeling the partially liquefied tentacle off from across his chest, Constantine sat up and brought his hand up to cup his bruised face. He prayed to whatever was least likely to hold a grudge that their little hail Mary there had bought them enough time to perform a summoning.
"Hey Bat, get your patron on the phone, this is getting fucking Eldritch."
"What the hell are you talking about," Hal Jordan pushed himself out of the rubble with a massive green fist construct. "Bats isn't a magic user."
"Hm." Batman grunted as he picked bone shards out of his gauntlets. "I'll need to get something for the ritual."
Everyone present sat up to look at him like he'd grown another head, except Superman and Wonder Woman who seemed a little excited.
"I'm sorry, you're a magician?" The Flash pipes up from behind the ruins of an old altar, only to receive a level glare from his black clad coworker.
"Warlock."
"Oh."
Constantine grabbed onto some chains hanging from the precariously damaged ceiling, rising to his feet. "We don't have much time; that thing's off licking its wounds in space or something, but it'll be back. You go off and collect whatever artefact you have from wherever you hid it and I'll start drawing the circle, where are we pulling your Patron from?"
Batman nodded in agreement. "The Infinite Realms."
"Fucking Hell."
-
The Watch Tower was crowded when Batman returned flanked by two other members for his little hero coven, carrying a small case decorated with constellations and nebulae.
Wonder Woman stepped up to look at the container, obviously curious, but not touching it.
"It will be wonderful to see him again, Batman. After this is dealt with I hope to hear the tales of my sisters from beyond."
"He'll definitely be happy to chat after we're done," Nightwing commented. "I hear he's been training with Pandora."
Red Robin nodded to that, an exasperated look on his face as he likely anticipated a long and drawn out conversation about different kinds of swords. Amazons liked their blades.
John gave that idea some concideration, Amazonian ghosts probably get up to some killer fights without having to worry about, ya know, death. He called out to the Dark Knight, "I've got the circle done, now we just need your call."
The three of them walk over to the summoning circle unceremoniously carved into the watch tower floor, Batman narrowing his eyes at the damaged paneling but saying nothing otherwise. The Dark Knight opens the case in his hands and pulls out what appears to be a small model space station.
The Coven spread themselves evenly around the circumference of the circle and Batman begins the ritual. "Salve patrōnem, egō stellam vocō." He throws the model space station into the circle where it appeared to float as the symbols in the ground lit up.
Slowly, a figure formed in the center, first as hands holding the model and spreading out over its arms and to its body in the shape of a young boy. He seemed to be wearing a black rubber hazmat suit with white accents and green lichtenberg figures crawling up his left arm. White hair appeared and with it piercing green eyes that seemed to be fixed on the toy in his hands. A cape flowed out behind him less like fabric and more like the endless void of space littered with stars and a cold weight settled on the room.
"Damn B, y'all really fucked up the floor this time."
Red Robin snorted, "Nice to see you too, Danny."
#danny phantom#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc#danny fenton#dcxdp#red robin#nightwing#batman#justice league#john constantine#watch tower#summoning#patron god au#writing prompt#dpxdc writing prompt#dcxdp writing prompt
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So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.
See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.
But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...
What is the difference between this and this?
Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?
Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.
But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.
And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.
But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.
See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!
As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.
And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:
So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?
Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.
In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.
In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.
This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).
Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.
More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.
This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.
A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.
But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.
#everyone say 'thank you togas' for not including a long tangent about evil rimmer in red dwarf 5x05#Our Flag Means Death#Togas does meta#and yes these principles DO fall apart slightly in s2 and i DON'T like those costumes as much#don't get me wrong they're fun and gorgeous - but generally a bit less deep and more inaccurate. so. :(#I'm not sure this really says anything new about Our Flag but I just needed to get my thoughts out#i hate hate hate Gritty Period Drama costumes they're so boring and so ugly and so wrong#god bless OFMD for using more than 3 muted colours and actually putting men in heels (and not as a shorthand for rich/foppish villainy) <3#looking at that Tudors still is insane like they really will go to any lengths to not make men feel like they've got bare legs XD#image descriptions in alt text#and yes i DID just sink about two hours into those so you'd better appreciate them
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Steve sighs as Robin cackles and opens the door to the break room to add yet another tally to the “You Suck” side of her whiteboard. He hopes she lingers for a bit so he can get a break from the constant reminder that yes, he does suck. But the stupid hat and sailor uniform is enough of a reminder already.
And okay, maybe he enjoys Robin’s company a little bit, so maybe he doesn’t want her to linger for too long.
But he’ll never tell her that. Not in a million years.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone walk into the entrance and he turns to give his “ahoy there” speech that Robin refuses to utter a single word of. Only, he gets a little choked up when he realizes he knows the person.
Well, not exactly knows him. But it’s hard not to know of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Especially if you go to high school with him and happen to be a jock, god forbid. Not that Steve ever disagreed with the things he said, although some of it went right over his head - okay, most of it did. But! All things said, Eddie had a habit of making himself known to people.
“Ahoy there!” Steve announces louder than intended. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain.” He leaves out his name because what’s the point? It’s not like Eddie isn’t aware of his existence or at least his last name which sometimes made a feature in his tabletop speeches.
“Steve Harrington,” Eddie says for him, apparently knowing his first name. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Surprisingly, it’s not said in complete distaste. In fact, Eddie is smiling widely at him, eyes roaming over the uniform and landing on the hat.
Steve sighs, “Trust me, I know. So, what can I get for you today?”
Eddie smiles wickedly and asks, “Why don’t we set sail on this ocean of flavor and you can show me around, captain?”
A blush creeps its way up Steve’s neck and begins to burn at his cheeks. Probably from the humiliation. Nevertheless, he points out each different flavor and goes into detail about what’s in each since Eddie seems to be enjoying the humiliation, but Steve doesn’t mind it too much since he feels like he’s getting his undivided attention. And something about that makes Steve feel… less sucky.
He glances up at the end of his speech about the last flavor and catches Eddie staring at him with a small smile on his face, more genuine than before.
“What?” Steve can’t help but ask.
Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, but the lie is clear to both of them. “I’ll get the USS Butterscotch.”
Something about the flavor makes Steve hesitate.
“What?” Eddie asks this time, slightly defensive.
“Nothing,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Cup or cone?”
Eddie laughs, “Come on, you can’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Eddie gestures at him. “Make that face and then pretend like you weren’t thinking anything.”
Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “And you can?”
Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he leans across the top of the glass dramatically and puts his head in his hands. “I’ll get a cone please.”
Something about the image makes Steve laugh as he grabs a cone and scoop, making the order for Eddie. "You know." he says, wishing the ice cream was the slightest bit softer, "I was expecting you to get something like death by chocolate or coffee."
"Why's that?" Eddie asks curiously.
Steve glances up at him and shrugs. “Those flavors are more…” he struggles to find the right word.
“Metal?” Eddie asks, sounding almost hopeful.
“Exactly.”
The smile on his face grows. “Well, I’m glad you see me as someone metal, Steve. But what, just because you’re a jock, I’m supposed to expect you to like some gross flavor like bubblegum?”
Steve frowns. “I like bubblegum ice cream.”
Eddie sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Of course you do.” He takes a moment to look over Steve again. “But looking at you now, I’d assume your favorite flavor would be the USS butterscotch.”
“Because of the stupid hat, right?” Steve asks as he drizzles extra caramel on the top of the cone.
“I think the hat is cute,” Eddie replies.
The comment sends Steve’s heart into a bit of a frenzy for a moment before he collects himself and hands the cone over in exchange for the bill in Eddie’s hand. He counts the change two times, trying to make sure he doesn’t make a mistake as a bunch of panicky thoughts go through his head. He hands the change over quickly but hesitates when Eddie stares at it and frowns. “Something wrong?” Steve asks.
Eddie glances up at the menu, down at his change, and takes a moment before saying, “Sorry, you just charged me for a single scoop when this is a double with an extra topping.”
Steve frowns and looks at the cone. “The topping is on the house, but that’s a single scoop.”
Eddie glances up at him and raises his eyebrows.
“A generous single scoop,” Steve corrects himself.
There’s a pause before Eddie’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up cutely. “I think i just found my new favorite ice cream place.”
Steve laughs, “Better than Linda’s Ice Cream Parlor?”
“Linda would call this a triple scoop and wouldn’t give me a topping but she would still make me pay the extra just for asking,” Eddie complains with a smile.
“Well, I would never do that to you.”
“Is that so?” Eddie asks, leaning forward a bit.
Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips momentarily as he tries to come up with a response.
“Hey dingus, there was a horrible delivery you missed…” Robin trails off as she looks between the two, effectively ruining the moment.
“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink, tongue darting out and gathering up a bit of white ice cream and letting it disappear into his mouth.
Steve feels a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach and nearly groans. Instead he hurriedly tells Robin, “I’m taking my break!” And effectively ignores the look she’s giving him.
Back in the break room, Steve walks up to the board and stares at it, glancing at the “You Rule” column and whispering, “Almost,” before sighing and putting his head in his hands.
He can’t believe that Eddie Munson is sending him into a sexuality crisis. Yet, he hopes he comes back often the rest of summer. And maybe he’ll finally be able to get that “You Rule” tally.
#steddie#steddie ficlet#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#scoops ahoy#season three steddie#scoops ahoy steve
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Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?
I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.
I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?
I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:
Someone's response to this photo:
"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.
Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."
My response to them:
"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.
The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.
Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.
This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:
Literally lingerie.
We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.
In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.
Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL
Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:
Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:
Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL
In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).
I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.
In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.
Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.
Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.
In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.
In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":
"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.
Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"
Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.
Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.
There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.
Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.
(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)
#star trek#star trek tos#star trek tng#star trek voy#star trek ent#star trek ds9 was the one show that went above and beyond#1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt#oc#octrekmeta#octrek#gene roddenberry#rick berman#brannon braga#kirk#spock#uhura#rand#nichelle nichols#majel barrett#grace lee whitney#tos#tng#voy#ent#marina sirtis#jolene blalock#terry farrell
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hello, hello! can i ask for an au of emt!marauders? she had a minor accident maybe in her work or college and they got called in without knowing that it was her? (shes their gf) 💘
How could I refuse??
cw: minor head injury, the teeniest tiniest hint of a praise kink
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words
You’re sitting on the curb holding a bag of ice to your head when the ambulance cuts its sirens, coming to a stop. The door opens and boots hit the pavement in front of you.
“Dollface?”
You blink up into the sun. “Sirius?”
He crouches by your knees, worry making itself at home in the crease between his brows. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”
“I didn’t think it’d be you,” you say dumbly.
“Are you hurt?” James comes bounding around the other side of the ambulance, Remus not far behind him. You can’t say you’re not happy to see them, but you sort of wish your reunion could have waited until your date tomorrow night, when you would almost surely not have been in your work uniform and covered in pasta sauce. “Are we here for you?”
“Technically,” you reply, somewhat bitterly. James squats beside Sirius, mouth pulling to one side. “I fainted a little bit, and my boss said he had to call an ambulance. Just so I can’t sue the restaurant, I guess. I’m totally fine.”
“They called us and then made you sit on the curb?” Sirius asks angrily while James says, “How does one faint only a little bit?”
“They didn’t want you guys scaring the customers.” You choose to answer only Sirius’ question, shrugging. His eyes flare, and he looks towards the restaurant like he’s thinking about going inside to have some words with your manager, but Remus passes a conciliatory hand over his shoulder as he sits beside you on the curb.
“What’s this for, love?” he asks you, covering your hand where it holds the bag of ice.
You must look as sheepish as you feel, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I guess I hit my head a bit when I fell.”
“So,” he says dryly, “not totally fine, then.”
“I mean, I don’t think I hit it very hard,” you try, but Remus is already removing your makeshift ice pack, tilting your head so he can see the forming bump on the side.
“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” James suggests, giving your knee a teasing squeeze as Sirius moves beside Remus to jockey for a view of your head, “just so we have all the facts.”
“I was carrying a tray to my table,” you explain, wincing as Remus passes a thumb over your wound with a murmured apology, “and I started to feel weird, like wobbly and out of it. I thought it might pass, but—” Sirius sends you a horrified look and your voice quiets, chastened. “I know I probably should have sat down or something, but I was working, you know? Anyway, then I guess I fell and smacked my head on the floor. When I woke up, the food was everywhere,” you recall with a sigh. Your coworkers are going to be less than pleased with you for leaving them that mess to clean up.
“Is that what this is?” James asks, mouth tilting upward as he looks at the mess of your uniform.
You nod solemnly. “Alfredo sauce.”
“Did you land on any glass or anything?” Sirius asks you. He and Remus have evidently finished with their inspection of your head, though Remus’ hand still cups the back of your neck protectively.
“No, all the plates that ended up breaking went the other way.”
“You thinking concussion?” James asks him.
“No,” you say, at the same time as Sirius says, “Maybe.”
Sirius fixes you with an odd look, half remonstrance and half endearment. “Sorry, doll, but you’re not exactly an expert. You very stubbornly did your job when you should have looked after yourself” —he squints his eyes at you playfully, giving your shoulder a mean squeeze— “now let us do ours for a bit, yeah?”
You purse your lips in malcontent, but James is already clicking on his pen light, shining it in your eyes. “Look straight ahead for me, angel?”
“S’not a big deal,” you mutter one last time in quiet mutiny, doing as he says. All three boys ignore you.
James clicks the light off. “Alright, do you know the date?”
“No.”
“How about the year?” he asks patiently. You tell him, and he goes on to ask you the month and the day of the week.
“Good.” He rewards you with a smile when you answer correctly. “Okay, do you feel nauseous or dizzy at all, darling?”
When he looks at you like that? A little, but that’s probably unrelated. “No,” you tell him.
“Headache?” Remus asks you.
“I mean, only here.” You lay your palm over the bump to indicate it, but wince when it hurts worse than you expected. Sirius coos, taking your hand in his to prevent you doing yourself further harm. “Not on, like, the inside.”
“Okay, that’s what I meant,” Remus reassures you. “What about why you fainted, love? Do you have any idea what happened?”
You bite the inside of your lip, thinking. “Not really.” Your head had just hurt a bit, then you’d felt woozy, and then you’d fallen and it had hurt a lot worse.
“Did you have lunch before you came to work?” James prompts.
You nod.
“What did you have?”
You tell him. He seems tentatively satisfied.
“And for breakfast? What about for dinner last night?”
You think back, telling him what you can remember, and he nods, looking somewhat bemused.
“Did you have a drink with any of that?” Remus asks.
You think harder. Had you? The realization must show on your face, because Sirius tuts.
“There it is,” he says knowingly. “When was the last time you had water, doll?”
“I…I don’t remember. I had coffee yesterday—”
They all groan. James starts laughing soon after, patting you on the thigh at your timid expression.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, just drink plenty of water and then go home to rest, alright? You might feel shaky for a bit, so don’t get in your car to drive until you’re feeling better. Rem, do we have some water bottles in the van?”
“Yeah.” Remus stands, palm landing affectionately on your head as he passes behind you to climb into the back of the ambulance.
“Don’t worry,” you tell James, exhaustion seeping into your voice, “I won’t be driving for a while yet. My shift doesn’t end until six.”
Contrary to your intentions, some of the relief saps from James’ countenance. “You’re still planning on working?”
Uh, duh. Does he think your rent is going to pay itself? “I mean,” you say, trying to appear somewhat patient, “yeah.”
“Well, go ahead and get that out of your head right now,” Sirius nearly laughs. “There’s no way that’s happening today, sweetness.”
“What’s not happening?” Remus asks, uncapping a water bottle before passing it to you.
“She thinks she’s going back to work,” Sirius says wryly.
Remus looks at you, appalled. You only shrug, sipping at your water.
“You can’t work after a fainting spell like that. Especially not as dehydrated as you are—your body needs rest.” He shakes his head at you. “You can either get it at home or come with us to the hospital.”
You roll your eyes, re-capping the half-drained water bottle. “That’s so dramatic.”
“No, I’m the dramatic,” Sirius corrects you. “Remus is the reasonable one, which is how you know he’s right. Those are your options, dollface.”
You huff. “Fine, then can one of you go tell my manager that? I don’t want to be blamed for skipping the rest of my shift.”
“You’re not skipping anything,” Sirius says, standing. “I’ll go, I’ve got some things to say to him anyway.” He cracks his knuckles, and you look to James in alarm.
He leaps up, catching up to Sirius in a few long strides and nudging him back towards you. “I’ve got it, Pads. Why don’t you make sure she finishes that water bottle?”
“Fine.” Sirius stomps his way back to you. “But make him answer for sending her outside to sit on the curb.”
“Please don’t!” you call after James.
Sirius’ gaze narrows, flicking between you and the water bottle beside you expectantly. “Drink.”
“Fine, sheesh.” You pick it up and twist off the cap. Remus chuckles, picking up your half-melted bag of ice to hold it against your head for you. “Isn’t it, like, your job to be nice to people when they’re injured?”
“I thought you weren’t injured?” Remus hums. You shoot him a look that’s meant to be intimidating, but his lips twitch upwards. “Relax, love, we’re just worried about you.”
Well, it’s hard to be mad at that. “Thanks,” you say quietly.
Sirius resumes his crouch in front of you, taking one of your knees in each hand and squeezing lightly. “We get off in a few hours,” he says. “Would it be okay if we came by for dinner? We can bring takeout or something.”
You lower the water bottle, looking at him with interest. Your day has suddenly taken a positive turn. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
“Good.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Now be a good girl and finish your water.”
You flush instantly, and Remus’ head swivels as if to make sure no one is nearby to have heard him. “Sirius,” you hiss, “I’m at work!”
His grin sharpens. “Not anymore, you’re not.”
#poly!marauders#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#marauders x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom
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Show Me How (Pt. 1)
Poly GN! MC x OM! Characters
(TW: Gangbang, Poly, Messy, Orgy??? MDNI - some people requested and I had to try :P, but if y'all want a one on one HC's I can do that seperately)
Intro
You trembled in excitement as Diavolo got off his seat to talk to the manager. You barely caught the words "special room" from the conversation and looked around you.
All of them looked at you like hawks about to feast. You weren't expecting your body count to go from 0 to 11 in one night.
"They're ready for us." Diavolo held out his hand and you readily took it. You felt them all follow close behind as you walked, hot and bothered before you had even taken your clothes off. Some of them, you were too nervous to notice who, brushed their palms and knuckles against your hips and thighs.
The room was dimly lit and the bed looked big and cushy enough for atleast 6 of you. There were couches placed next to big tinted windows showcasing the glowing city lights.
"Don't worry MC, I'll fuck you against those windows so we can see the pretty sights together. And we can be there as long as you like." Asmo whispered, casually caressing your behind before letting you go.
Taking your seat in the middle of the bed, you looked up at them like a innocent little lamb. "So...what happens now?"
Solomon was the first one on the bed, tilting your chin to look up at his towering form. "Since it's your first time, maybe you should start with a human before going up against the supernaturals?"
You nodded. You could hear Mammon grunt in annoyance. "Unfair!" Asmo whined. "Damn your advantage, Solomon!" Satan scowled.
All other protests drowned out as he pressed his lips against your parted ones, slipping his tongue in with ease. You reached out to hold him by the shoulders as he pulled you onto his lap.
"You can be the first to take MC, but I don't think they'll mind us lending a hand, would you, MC?" Barbatos joined you on the bed and so did Diavolo. Lucifer turned towards the windows but he knew he was watching you intently in the reflections.
"You're so... beautiful..." Solomon whispered as he undid the buttons on your school uniform. Barbatos and Diavolo pulled down the sleeves so you were only left in your undershirt.
"Indeed. Even your scent is divine." Barbatos latched his mouth on your neck right beneath your ear. Solomon proceeded to suckle your nipples through the thin cloth while undoing your pants. Diavolo kneaded the other side of your chest while stealing kisses off your cheek.
You were soaked faster than you expected, dripping and ready. "Hold on MC, we need to make sure you're stretched out enough to take him. To make sure it hurts less." You watched Barbatos take his glove off with his teeth and coat fingers with your precum and Diavolo followed suit.
"Ah- AHHHHH!" You moaned out load at the introduction of one finger right after the other. As small as you were compared to them, it took them no time at all to find where it pleasures you most.
Beel inched dangerously close to the bed. "Could I have a little taste?" His eyes were trained on your slick and glistening beads of sweat on your back. You nodded lightly. You felt the bed shift with his weight as fell onto Solomon's chest, your ass hoisted up against Beel's mouth.
"Beel! Wait!" The his warm tongue on your cold skin was already too much and you were still so sensitive from the last act. And it took him seconds to go from gentle to feral animal.
"MC...you taste so good...please just a little more." He pleaded. You had tears of overstimulation by the time Solomon pulled you away from him.
"Alright, alright I think my adorable apprentice is more than ready for me now." He huffed annoyed as he pumped his dick against your stomach. You gasped at the sheer size of it. Your head spun knowing that it's only going to get bigger from here on.
He rubbed the tip against your hole before thrusting. You felt full but he wasn't even half way. "So tight for me...don't worry I'll be gentle." He went deeper with every thrust, slowly splitting you open.
"Breathe...don't tense up, relax your muscles. Just like that." It was almost like Solomon was in his room teaching you magic. You whined as he finally fit in all of himself and you whimpered at his size. "That's it. There's my perfect little apprentice."
"Hurry it up already!" You could hear Mammon growl, impatient. You tried to look back at him only to see him undoing his belt, the tent in his pants huge and uncomfortable. In fact, almost everyone had the same problem.
Levi was facing the wall, trying to jerk himself off discreetly. Belphie was sitting down gently rutting against his pillow. Satan was staring intently with crossed arms, sizing you up to imagine everything he wanted to do with you.
Solomon and you came at the same time, gasping and clutching to each other for support. You marked him with your nails and he marked you with his cum pouring out of your hole. "I'm so sorry I couldn't pull out, MC...you felt too good."
"That's it! My turn!" Mammon's patience ran out as he grabbed you by the arms and flipped you over. The sight of Solomon's essence inside you fueled his anger. He was about to fuck you like a dog.
"You need to learn to share, Mammon. MC belongs to all of us, after all." Asmo slithered his way under you somehow, running his dainty fingers up and down your chest, his manicured nails lightly grazing your nipples. "So cute."
"Asmo n-not there!" You trembled at his lips leaving lipstick marks over your tummy and to the sound of Mammon furiously unbuckling his pants. You felt both their erections on your thighs before Mammon shoved two fingers inside you, just to see if you could take him. "You belong to me now. Don't you dare scream anyone else's name but mine."
Latching his lips on yours, he thrust himself inside like a brute. You screamed his name into his mouth through his rough thrusts and tightening grip on your waist. "M-Mammon please not so rough!" You pulled away from his mouth to breathe.
You were barely registering the stretch of Mammon's length when Belphie appeared in front of you sheepishly. "Could you...let me use your mouth?" He ran his fingers over your lips tenderly. You parted your lips for him, half dazed and felt his tip trace your lips before putting it in.
"Couldn't wait his fucking turn. Why ya gotta be so pretty, MC? Hah...fuck you're still so tight.." Mammon hissed at Belphie lazily thrusting inside your mouth. Mammon's rough pace coupled with Belphie's slow one was so overwhelming you came again before long. "So good...so so good for me, MC..." The sleepy demon praised through gasps.
You were crying again as you came on Mammon's dick. He spilled out on your hips, dripping down your thighs. "I can't anymore...not right now...please..." You begged. Asmo cooed and hugged you. You fell asleep on his shoulder.
You woke up to Satan cradling your head on his lap, and Simeon running his fingers through your hair. "Let yourself relax, MC. The rest of us can wait patiently for our turn."
#obey me#obey me smut#obey me solomon#obey me diavolo#obey me Barbatos#obey me mammon#obey me asmo#obey me belphie#obey me beel#obey me satan#obey me simeon#obey me Lucifer#obey me gang
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poison paradise.
pairing: theodore nott x reader.
song inspiration: toxic by omido.
author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪
The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence.
Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls.
This was hedonism at its finest.
The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips.
The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open.
“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.”
You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.”
Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.”
“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.”
“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”
You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.”
After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight.
As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions.
Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you.
While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class.
“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”
Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.”
You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you. “Come in, then.”
To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed.
“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.”
Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.”
Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.”
Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.”
Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?”
“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.”
The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.”
The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?”
“Because I’m dating Hannah.”
Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air.
“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.”
“We’ve been dating since term started.”
“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.”
Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.”
Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.”
The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time.
You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.”
Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself.
“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry.
“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.”
“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?”
“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.”
“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."
Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."
"What a bloody mess."
Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.”
Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.”
While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount.
“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.”
You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!”
Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.
”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.”
Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.”
“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.”
Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.”
For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.”
“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?”
You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?”
Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.”
Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.
Merlin, he was fucking pretty.
How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that.
“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you.
Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer.
“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.”
“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously.
“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?”
The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.”
With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.
Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap.
Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from.
“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole.
“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.”
Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it.
“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”
“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”
A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No.
Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you.
“Fuck yes.”
When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response.
“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?”
“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time.
There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you.
You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you.
“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.”
“Yeah? Shut me up, then.”
His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him.
Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it.
“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”
You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name.
“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.”
You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.”
“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.”
“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?”
Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception.
With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size.
“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”
Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?”
“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart.
“That I fuck like what, bella?”
Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.”
“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.”
The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to.
Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner.
“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.”
“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.”
“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.”
“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.”
“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.”
When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved.
“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.”
Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.”
He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.”
“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.”
A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible.
“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.”
For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out.
Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping.
At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue.
“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?”
Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.”
That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again.
“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk.
You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.
“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you.
Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care.
He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.
Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.
Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed.
Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.
You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.
With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?”
“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.”
Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in.
“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.”
Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.
#yes i know this is unhinged but i dreamt it so now you all have to deal#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x you#theo nott x y/n#theo nott smut#theo nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott imagine
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Event: Camping Trip
(Tw: mention and talks of Pedophilia, R@pe, child abuse, and cannibalism.(also sorry that I forgot to add this. I thought I did when I wrote this.))
You had received an email from Hope's Peak Academy
'You were invited to help Ms. Dai to take Class 82 onto a 2 week long camping trip starting tomorrow! Class 82 will be thankful for your participation.
We are not responsible for any minor damage, major injuries, any human beings being eaten, and/or deaths that Class 82 may cause.'
You decided to join. Probably your better judgment but to join, you chose none the less. The next day, you went to Hope's Peak Academy to see a group of 7 teens and one little robot girl. All had on a white shirt with brown shorts on.
One was a dark skinned girl with two IDs. One was a Substitute Teacher ID and the other a Student ID for the same school. She was in front and facing the rest of the students.
There was a boy with black hair and brown eyes. He had a bunch of scars on his body, some old, some new, some healed, some still fresh.
The robot girl was to his left. She seems to be design to look around 8 years old, but she seems to be an old model. The body was rusty in some areas and wore down by time.
To her left was a boy with an red jacket on. He had the hood over his head and sunglasses covering his face. His hands were in his pocket.
To his left was a young lady with long light reddish pink hair, dilated pupils, and a slightly jagged tooth. She was the tallest in her class.
To her left was Irofuka Nijiue. It was weird to see him not in a butler uniform. He was stilling wearing his red gloves and his hair was pulled into a short, low ponytail.
To his left was Yolei, wearing a light turtleneck sweater underneath the shirt. The also had leggings and a bag on. She was leaning towards Irofuka.
And finally, Yoshino, who had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing stockings under her shorts. She also had a small backpack on.
Yù: "Okay, let's go over the rules, one more time. No killing people, selling illegal substances or items, and no eating people. Alive or Dead. We will still be doing theapry sessions while camping. Don't wonder to far, especially at night. We have to introduce ourselves to our guests, even if we already met them. That means, telling them your actual names and Ultimate Talents, alright?"
"Yes Ma'am."
Yù: "Thank you Yoshino."
Do you say anything?
Tags:
@y0u-f4il3d-m3 @mikado-sannoji @low-activity-side-characters @yui-samidare-reborn @human-monokuma @kamon-of-hope @edens-garden-au @master-detective-archives @beautiful-despair @after-neo-world @scarred-smiles @i-spy-with-my-lethal-eye @sinistersmiles @xxcottoncandybitchxx @anyone else
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how about💰 with lestappen ?
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
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“If it isn’t my favourite customers.”
Charles’ face seemed to light up as you approached their table, as though their eyes hadn’t been on you since the second they entered the yacht club twenty minutes prior. He sat up a little straighter in his seat, everything about his expression soft and endearing as you stood in front of them, dressed in your uniform with your hands politely held in front of you.
“Finally admitting we are your favourites?” Max questioned, seeming a little less eager than Charles but something in his chest still warmed when your eyes settled on him.
“You have some tough competition with Mrs Harrison,” you told them, trying to bite back the smile that wanted to grow on your face because you knew if your manager saw, he would have far too much to say. “She tips me well and she tells me how pretty I am. She was even three margaritas deep today when she said she wished I was her daughter. It made me quite emotional actually.”
Charles raised his brows. “That’s our competition?”
“Don’t worry, Charlie, she can’t compete with your looks,” you teased, the words light-hearted and playful, and yet they still made his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “You two want your usuals?”
Max nodded, seeing as the other boy was far too flustered to open his mouth. “We always do.”
Because that is what they always did. You didn’t remember when or how long ago the two Formula One drivers started spending time at one of Monaco’s elite yacht clubs, but you were painfully aware of them the second they were on your radar. The way they would always show up together, the way they always ordered the same drinks, the way they always wanted you as their server and no one else.
They never used the yacht club for the social or networking aspect all the other members used it for. They just used it for you—even if you were blissfully unaware of the fact. They showed up at the club one night on a whim and the next day they were members, they were craving any possibility they could to see you again after the first time they laid eyes on you.
And you were so, so unaware.
You were unaware of the status they really held in Monaco, despite knowing they were famous and beloved athletes. You were unaware of the resentment other servers and even your manager held towards you for being favoured by the drivers. You were unaware of their true intentions for their visits and their growing desire to see you.
“We have something for you,” Charles had said the second you arrived with their drinks, placing them down on the table with the grace of a professional.
Your eyes snapped over to Charles’, already shaking your head. “Not this again—”
“Mon amour,” Charles sighed.
“You guys can’t keep giving me gifts,” you said to them, taking a step back from the table and you felt like you were staring at two wounded puppies when you did. “It’s too much. Far too much.”
“It’s our tip to you,” Max said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.
“No, it’s not,” you retorted.
“It is, and it would make us—the club members—extremely happy if you took the tip,” Max countered, a look a little too smug for your liking on his face.
Because he did this every time, both boys did this every time. They would come in and try to tip you obscene amounts of money that made you feel a bit nauseous. They continued to do so until they realised your manager was taking the tips and splitting the money between the other servers too. So, they got a little more creative on how they spoiled you, on how they took care of you.
And despite refusing every single time, they always managed to make you crack.
You glanced over your shoulder warily to make sure your manager wasn’t looking before you faced the boys again, taking the box in Charles’ outstretched hand before carefully opening it. Your lips parted in surprise as you took in the dainty piece of jewellery, so soft and simple and elegant.
You almost felt guilty for touching the necklace.
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, almost absent-mindedly as your fingers lightly traced the charm on the chain before you looked at the boys. “I can’t accept this.”
“You have to,” Charles reminded you with a grin. “It’s your tip.”
“It’s far too much,” you said with a shake of your head as you glanced down at the charm once again, your eyes eager to take in every small detail of the charm. You opened your mouth to say something, only to pause when the light caught some detailing in the charm,
C.L. M.V.
“Is that….are those your initials?” You questioned aloud, looking at the charm in confusion before looking at the boys.
“Hm? No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max answered casually in response.
Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “It’s your initials. C.L. M.V. How dumb do you think I am?”
“It’s not our names, cherie, it’s a simple coincidence,” Charles said as he waved off your assumption. “It’s just the initials of the brand.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the brand name then?” You countered.
“Some fancy Dutch one you would’ve never heard of before,” Max answered quickly. A little too quick to not be suspicious. “We just thought it would look great on you.”
“And it works with your uniform regulations, so you can wear it on shift,” Charles added with a charming smile, but the rest went unsaid between them. So you can wear our names around your neck, even when other men ogle you.
“I—” But you cut yourself off, knowing that arguing with them was a lost cause and would only catch the attention of your manager. “Thank you, both of you. It’s probably one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.”
“It will give us a challenge to top for your next gift then,” Charles teased despite the look you gave him.
“You two are relentless,” you said to them.
Max only grinned wider. “And you love it, schat.”
.
#cece's slumblurb party#lestappen#charles leclerc#max verstappen#formula one#f1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc one shot#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstappen one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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after reading so many stories where their actual names are used like Jake Seresin, Natasha Trace, Javy Machado, etc., it’s so crazy to me that not once did they say any of the pilot’s real names in the actual movie except for Bradley who has both Cyclone and Maverick say his first name (his last name is said a lot more) and Maverick (for obvious reasons)
not even like a Lieutenant Trace or a Lieutenant Seresin, they were always just simply referred to as “Lieutenant”
the only time we really see their names are on the beginning screen where Cyclone is showing Mav the 12 pilots and their last names on the tags of their uniforms in the bar scene
everyone is simply referred to as their callsign and even in cast interviews, they introduce themselves using their call signs and never the actual names
come to think of it? i genuinely feel like they weren’t in the movie THAT much because i saw a post that calculated Glen’s screen time and it was like less than five minutes total?
all this to say, fan fiction is SO powerful because this was such a minuscule detail of the movie that we could’ve forgotten about but everyone kind of just took it and ran with and now I can’t see it any other way
#these ragtag little group of pilots really altered my brain chemistry on limited time#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#natasha phoenix trace#robert bob floyd#mickey fanboy garcia#javy coyote machado#reuben payback fitch#the dagger squad
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House wardens walk in on you changing
Tw: slightly NSFW, established relationships, scaring in some parts, Suggestive content. You are refused to mc and no pronouns mostly
Riddle rosehearts
Riddle was coming to tell you that it was time for you to help him set up the unbirthday party for tonight. Yes he does tell others to do it, but he felt like spending time with you.
"MC-" he spoke as he opened the door. His face immediately flushed as red as his hair upon seeing your half naked body.
"I-im sorry!" He quickly leaves, slamming the door shut behind him and holding his face. He mumbled to himself about being an idiot. He completely forgot to knock! Though it would be a lie if he didn't think you were attractive in less clothing.
"Snap out of it, Riddle! Dont have those dirty thoughts about your lover! It's improper as house-warden!" He was blushing more and quickly walked away. Soon, you came out to see him sitting in the garden. You smiled and walked over and nudged him lovingly.
"Hey its alright it's not the first time you saw me like that riddle~"
All Riddle did was blush brightly. He was in for a teasing from his lover.
Leona kingscholar
Leona let out a loud yawn sitting up from the bed he and you shared. He looked beside him but you weren't there which was strange. He gets up and streched out.
"Herbivore?" He looked around and saw the closet was closed. He walked over and opened it. You were putting on one of his shirts. Leona blushed and snatched you up.
You tell him to put you down and your voice falls on deaf ears.
"Herbivore you can hide from me! I know you inside and out. So why are you so afraid of changing in front of me. It's not like someone else is gonna see it"
You huffed and rolled your eyes as leona put his hands on your thighs.
"And as punishment for hiding, I'm gonna cuddle you until the sun goes down!"
Azul Ashengrotto
Azul was signing contracts with students despite you not liking it. Azul had wondered where you had gone as you volunteered to work as a waitress at the mostro lounge.he quickly got up after telling his client he would be right back.
"Hey MC, the tables are-" he spoke as he walked into his room where you most likely were. When he looked, he froze, blushing. He was at a loss for words seeing your upper body fully exposed. He wanted to crawl into his octopus pot and die.
You smiled at him and put on your shirt uniform (if your a girl you also put on a strapless bra). You walked over and kissed azul on the nose and walked out to help jade with waiting tables.
Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim was wander the halls of ramshackle when he walked into your room without knocking.
"Hey MC Jamil wants to know what you want for lunch!" Kalim smiled happily not noticing you were half naked
You spoke out and told him what you wanted as you slipped your cargo pants on.
"Okay we will be at scarabia! And nice legs too MC!" and with that kalim left without saying another word.
You sat for a moment and giggled at how innocent and pure kalim is. Your so lucky to love someone like him
Vil Schoenheit
You being the lover of the most "beautiful" man ever he always was there to watch you change. He wanted to make sure your in a beautiful outfit when your with him.
"MC! You look amazing like that!" He yells whenever you put something of his on
You were used to him watching you strip your clothes and putting new ones on, as he never really done anything. He was really good at keeping his hands to himself. He always asked if he could touch you.
You smiled and did a small spin showing off the dress/tuxedo he made for you. How lucky you are to have the most handsome man in the world make beautiful clothing for you
Idia shroud
(His is a bit different)
One of the few times when idia leaves his room is when he needs to get his hoodie back from you. He knocked on the ramshackle dorms main door, and you opened it. You were wearing idias hoodie and no pants. The tips of his flaming hair turned pink, and you brought him inside.
"M-MC! W-WHY ARE YOU-"
You had cut idia off with a kiss and smiles. You like to tease idia when you could. He was red in the face. Of course, he looked away, embarrassed at the fact you had kissed him without warning. He was an Otaku! Not a romantic person.
"M-mc maybe you should put some pants o-on. I can see your underwear (panties if female)" you blushed and smiled before hugging him without a care in the world. You trusted idia. After all he was to afraid to even kiss you
Malleus Draconia
He knocked on your door and opened it. Of course you were still putting on your shirt but you didn't mind.
"Child of man, what would you like to eat for lunch?" He asked a small blush on his face. You answered [fav food] and he nods.
"Okay I'll let lilia know so he can start cooking it"
You quickly stopped malleus and said we could just order takeout. You really did not feel like getting sick again from lilias cooking.
"But child of man don't you love lilias cooking?"
You lied and told him you did but decided to just order fast food. Malleus nods slowly and looked at your phone
"Take out from where?"
And you handed him your phone to choose. Oh how this fae loved you deerly enough to play for everything if you would let him
#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twst#twst wonderland#x reader#leona kingscholar#azul ashengrotto#vil schoenheit#kalim al asim#idia shroud#riddle rosehearts#malleus draconia#twst x reader
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