#enjoy the scribblings of a madman
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maybe ill clean this up later, but for now. @bruhstation
#enjoy the scribblings of a madman#HE LOOKS TOO POLITE WHENEVER I DRAW HIM#( narrator vc ) i need this man dead#ttte spencer#ttte fanart#ttte humanized#ttte#casa tidmouth#trains#savvy art#can you tell i hate drawing coats or
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Squint And You'll See It
Summary: Sirius and his potions partner are trying to brew Polyjuice Potion for class, and he can't seem to figure out why she won't wear her glasses.
Notes: Sirius Black x shy!reader. All fluff, really. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. I'm weirdly self-conscious about the sounds I make, how loud they are, if they could annoy/distract people, etc. so I wrote this just to comfort myself about it lol. I ended up using Y/N a bunch because using too many pronouns in a row makes my brain bristle so oh well. Still though, this is the sweetest thing I think I've ever written. Enjoy! <3
Y/N squinted up at the blackboard as Slughorn collected the class’s attention once again, and Sirius just about melted. The all-too-familiar scrunch in her nose and the crease between her brows gave him more comfort than he probably should have taken from her struggles to see the properties of Chinese Chomping Cabbage from so far back in the classroom. After an especially rapid flurry of blinking, she scribbled a couple notes on her parchment before fisting her knuckles in her eyes tiredly.
Sirius nudged her gently. As if it wasn’t already, the honey-doe eyes she gave him had his heart overflowing with a plush fondness.
“Your glasses, love,” he whispered, nodding to her book bag, which hung off of the back of her chair. Y/N looked at it, then blinked twice. The glasses were a new and quite helpful development—one she hadn’t quite gotten into the habit of using yet. She eyed the bag again.
“I’m alright,” she whispered back and returned to her notes.
Sirius frowned. “You sure?”
She nodded, giving him a light smile.
Sirius frowned slightly but returned to his notes when Slughorn chided him for having his eyes elsewhere. But how could he be blamed? Only a madman would rather learn about ingredients than watch her.
For a surprisingly long while, Sirius managed to stay focused on his notes, sometimes copying Remus’s, who sat on his right side, and only occasionally sneaking glances at Y/N, who sat on his left. After what felt like an eternity, Slughorn finally let the pair work on their Polyjuice Potion at a work table in the far back of the classroom. Sirius had come down with a nasty case of spattergroit several weeks previous and missed a week and a half of the brewing process. Unfortunately, Y/N had missed several days herself due to a family matter (now resolved with nothing to worry about, she had assured Sirius countless times), ending in the complete devastation of their original Polyjuice batch. And so, Y/N, unwilling to take a bad mark, and Sirius, ready to do just about anything to keep spending time with her, decided to make another batch.
“Do you want to gather the ingredients or shall I?” she asked as Sirius scooted his stool closer to hers (to better reach the cauldron, of course).
“I can get the ingredients,” he said, flashing what he hoped was his most charming smile, and she blushed.
“Alright, I’ll, erm … I’ll work out our next instructions …” Sirius nodded as Y/N fell into her reading, smiling to himself as her brows furrowed once again to scan the page.
Sirius skirted the classroom towards ingredient shelves, passing by James, Peter, and Remus, who all raised their brows at him with smirks. He simply rolled his eyes, rummaging through the shelves until he had gathered the correct ingredients. But when he turned around, ready to make his way back to Y/N and their Polyjuice Potion, he was met with a horrible sight: Remus, holding a tight-lipped frown in a near-futile attempt to ward off a smile, Peter, doubled over with laughing cramps, and James, turned around in his chair and arms wrapped around himself, raking them up and down his back in a sultry fashion as he pretended to make out with someone.
With a peeved sigh, Sirius chucked a bundle of knotgrass at James, seed pods bursting and small nettle-like seeds clinging to James's hair. Of course, the three burst into peals of raucous laughter. Sirius groaned, and quickly made his way back to the back work table as Slughorn chastised the rest of them.
“Sirius, are you alright? You’re looking a bit … erm, warm.”
Sirius’s ears burned even hotter, and his eyes flew to examine the grout between the floor tiles.
“Yeah, yeah, ‘m perfect, lovie.” He set down his armful of glass jars and clay bowls, trying desperately to change the subject. “Found what we’ve got to do yet?”
“Mhm,” she hummed. “Just here, it says we must add three bits of boomslang skin—”
“Got that here.”
“—crush the bicorn horn and add that—”
“Got that as well.”
“—and then there are some cooking instructions, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Sounds good to me, love.” Sirius smiled warmly.
The two worked in harmony, Y/N checking and double-checking that she was measuring everything correctly and Sirius adding the ingredients once she had prepared them. The two worked in sweet, warm peace, managing only one easily-averted disaster, all while keeping quiet as Slughorn continued to teach the rest of the class. There was a strange sort of domesticity to it that made Sirius’s heart skip beats, and he imagined himself with Y/N in their future home, huddled around a cauldron and brewing something to keep them warm on a Siberian night—
“How long should it be at a high temperature again?” Sirius asked, forcing himself from his daydreaming and adding the crushed bicorn horn.
“Erm …” Y/N’s nose practically brushed the page with how closely she peered at the instructions. With the smallest sound of annoyance Sirius had ever heard, her head moved to allow her eyes to travel along the far wall, where a dozen or so posters displayed recipes for a variety of potions. She sighed lightly, squinting heard and pushing herself on tiptoe (as if it would help).
“Use your glasses, love,” Sirius suggested but was quickly brushed off.
“‘M fine, really,” Y/N murmured, eyes still squinting.
“Sweetheart,” the word caught Y/N’s attention, and she fell back onto her heels, eyes barely meeting Sirius’s before drilling into the bubbling cauldron, “you’ll give yourself a migraine. Use your glasses.” Y/N glanced uneasily from Sirius to her bag on the back of her chair and back. Sirius’s brows furrowed. “What is it, love?”
Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Then … wear your glasses,” Sirius reasoned, and she let out a little huff. “Why don’t you want to wear them, lovie?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to wear them, it’s just …” Sirius watched her with soft, almost concerned eyes.
Y/N sighed, pushing herself onto the stool with knees pressed together. The thought was silly, but she had known Sirius long enough to know he wasn’t going to let this go.
“The buckle on the bag, it’s …” Sirius’s knee knocked gently against hers. “It’s loud—it clatters about when I open it. Catches people’s attention. And my glasses are in the bag, so if I open the bag, people will stare, and then people stare at me when I have my glasses on anyway—not that I’m not grateful for the glasses! They’re a great help for seeing the board during cl—”
Sirius couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, and he almost felt bad at the pout Y/N dealt in return. “First of all, love, people stare at you and your glasses because you look fucking divine when you wear them. I should know.” He brushed her arm playfully with his, and she flushed a brilliant shade of red-pink. “And second, no one thinks anything about your loud bag buckles, I promise.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “I just—I don't want to disrupt them is all …”
Sirius chuckled again, but still, Y/N didn't make a move for her bag. It took only a moment and a half of contemplation before Sirius burst into the most fake-sounding fit of coughs ever created in the history of this Earth. Nearly the entire class turned to stare at him as he seemingly hacked up a lung, and he hung himself dramatically off of the table’s edge to play it up just that little bit more.
“Mr. Black, are you quite alright?” Professor Slughorn asked, eyes slightly wide with concern.
“Y-yes, Pro—” Sirius coughed a dozen more times, discretely winking at Y/N, who seemed to get the point and quietly retrieved her glasses from her bag. Not a soul noticed.
#sirius black x you#sirius x y/n#sirius x you#marauders era#sirius black fluff#sirius x reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x reader#sirius black x shy!reader#sirius fluff
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Trust The Rogue To Lead You
Follow up to A Wish Breathed Into You
Odile contemplates the quest that her traveling partner has dragged her into. She trust him to lead her on this path.
[Siffrin & Odile] [Alternate Universe, Second Person POV, Odile POV, Introspection, Character Study]
Siffrin was a bit of an odd fellow, you'd known that since the first time you'd stumbled across each other. They were aimless and air headed at times, while being completely singled minded and determined at others. They could forget their words mid sentence one minute, but tell you the entire translation history of a play in the next. You didn't understand them, but you found them frightfully easy to get along with.
You had already been traveling for quite some time when you met Siffrin, and it seemed that they had been doing the same but with much less grace. They didn't seem to have a destination that they were aiming for and, though you wouldn't realize this until much later, didn't have a place that they planned to return to either. It was easy enough to let them stick by your side for a time and then just as easy to want them to stay there.
It was true that you questioned their decision to visit a frozen country, even when your own desire to do the same was rather high. It was a dangerous, reckless, and ill advised course of action. As much as you thought them to be a madman for suggesting it, you must have been just as mad to agree. As unorthodox as Siffrin's methods could be at times, he hadn't steered you wrong yet. You were hesitant to speak the words aloud, but you had placed a fair bit of trust in Siffrin and it had been repaid poorly.
Still, this "Universe" that they went on about mad zero since to you. It was somehow everything, but also everything was inside of it. It was a guiding force, but also he couldn't tell you a single thing about it when pressed. Not that Siffrin had ever been good at explaining himself under pressure, but that didn't mean you could always stop yourself from trying. You understood that it was part of his religion in some fashion, but you desperately wished you could get a few more concrete details out of him.
"I don't know what to tell you, Odile," Siffrin had shrugged at you when you'd tried to poke at his words. "The Universe leads, all we can do is follow."
He said it with such finality that it must have been a common saying in… wherever Siffrin was from. You'd yet to figure it out or get anything out of him on that mystery. The only thing you knew for sure was that he had no intention of returning there. Whether that was because he refused to for some reason or perhaps wasn't allowed to, you had yet to figure out.
It hadn't taken you long to begin writing down all your observations about Siffrin. It had taken even less time after that to realize that you'd need a separate notebook if you really wanted to understand all the strange oddities of your new companion. There had been one too many instances of scribbling in the margins of an already filled page for your liking, so you made the investment for a Siffrin specific book.
It worked out in your favor, as he seemed to get a kick out of trying to peek over your shoulder and you enjoyed the little game you'd made of pretending to hide it from him. It also gave you a chance to learn more about them. You'd learned earlier on that they couldn't read Ka Buan, so you'd made a game of seeing which scripts he could and could not recognize. Poterian seemed to offer him no trouble, which made sense as the two of you had met in Poteria. He scrunched up his face at Mwu script, which led you to assume that he didn't have much, if any, familiarity with the language. He had no trouble with Vaugardian, but seemed to take longer to parse out Andiran, despite the languages similarities.
You were used to others becoming a bit uncomfortable if you paid too much attention to them, so it was a refreshing change of pace that you could tease Siffrin in this manner. If anything, he seemed flattered by your attention.
It also made it easier to show your affection in this way. You weren't very physically affectionate, but you could list out the traits that you found endearing about them and smile as they slowly slunk into their cloak to hide their darkening face.
So, you were reasonably fond of Siffrin, you trusted him, and you were more willing to go along with his insane plans than you perhaps should have been. You didn't have a problem with any of this until you watched them fall out of a tree and scream bloody murder for so long that you knew you'd never be able to get the sound out of your head.
You hadn't questioned them on their little rituals, they'd always had them but this was one of the areas you were able to be patient in learning about them. You hadn't had any regret for that decision until then. If whatever they had done had led to this, you couldn't fathom allowing them to do as they pleased again.
Only… it worked. You hadn't truly believed that he could "fix Vaugarde" or whatever their insane idea had been, but as you looked around and saw life returning to the branches of the tree, you had to second guess that assumption. It seemed that "wishing" had more validity to it than you ever could have guessed.
"Wishcraft?" You asked with some incredulity. You had demanded that he allow you to check him over for injuries, but amazingly, he didn't seem to be hurt at all. You weren't sure how that was possible with how hard he had fallen and how raw they had screamed themselves, but you decided to let it go for the time being. Too many mysteries at once would give you a headache.
Siffrin simply nodded at you. "Yeah. It's… I'm not sure how to explain it?"
You tried to control your expression so that you didn't look as skeptical as you felt. "A craft based around… wishes?" You repeat. "I've never heard of such a thing before."
Siffin sank down into his cloak the way he often did when he was embarrassed, before he looked back at you and shrugged. "I… don't know why I know it, just that I… do?"
There were a great many things that Siffrin didn't know why they knew. His memory was unreliable at the best of times, yet his knowledge was usually spot on. He was more likely to underestimate his knowledge than overestimate it.
"Tell me more about this… Wishcraft."
"Like what?" They asked with such an unassuming expression that you knew they were not simply trying to withhold the information from you. Sometimes you weren't sure how someone as expressive and kind as Siffrin had made it on their own as long as they did. You often sent thanks to whatever Expression had guided them to your side instead of into the hands of someone worse.
"How does it work?" you asked, opening your notebook so that you could keep track of whatever they told you. "What does it do?"
"Well, it works by wishing?" He didn't sound particularly certain as he said that, but you attributed that more to him explaining it to you than any actual uncertainty in what he was trying to say. "And… it can do… a lot? Maybe not anything, but… I mean, if you wish for it…"
You wouldn't get anywhere this way.
"Alright, how about you tell me about this?" You gesture to the Favor Tree.
"You have to make a wish in order to use it," he started slowly. You could practically see him trying to arrange the words in his head. "And you can wish for anything, but the way that you wish makes a difference."
"How so?"
You could tell from the way that their face scrunched up that this isn't something he'll be able to answer. Or if he can, certainly not easily. You decided to try a different avenue.
"What are some ways to make wishes?"
Siffrin perked up a bit at that question. It must be easier to answer than the others. "There are rituals," he answered. "Like, if you're just saying your wish aloud, you can say it three times, or six, sometimes nine, but it isn't usually a good idea to go higher than that. You can, but…"
But he can't explain the ins and outs of it.
"What else?" You asked, writing that down.
"You can wish on a dandelion, but you have to blow all the seeds away in a single breath or it won't work. And you can wish on a star, but you have to really want it for a star to grant your wish and that's only for bigger wishes, anyway."
Siffrin had mentioned stars before, but you weren't sure why they had a hand in granting wishes. In fact, you weren't sure that any of this made sense to you. You didn't see any connecting thread between these things. You gestured for him to go on anyway.
"With the cranes, you have to fold a certain amount of them and the more that you fold, the bigger you can make your wish," he told you. "But just folding them isn't enough. You have to focus on your wish while folding and then whisper it into the folds of the paper so that the paper holds the wish and keeps it safe."
"Why does the paper need to hold the wish?"
He looked confused at the question. "Something has to take your wish to the Universe. So like, with a dandelion, each seed is carrying your wish away, but if you don't want it enough, then it won't be granted. That's why you need to blow off all the seeds." That… almost made sense to you. "Cranes can fly, so if you tell them your wish, they can carry it to the Universe for you, but only if you fold them right. Otherwise your wish will fall out and it'll be dropped before they make it to the sky."
Wishcraft sounded utterly absurd, but it was clear that there were rules. Rules that operated under some kind of logic even though you were clearly lacking the connective tissue to follow that logic.
You finish writing down everything he told you, even the parts that didn't make sense to you. Perhaps if you revisit the topic down the line, it will.
"So… unfreezing Vaugarde." It sounded completely mad when you'd first agreed, but now the task had gone from impossible to merely… daunting. You couldn't imagine taking on more responsibility than you seemingly just had. Unfreezing an entire country, fighting off hordes of these Sadness. Would it be just as volatile of a process every time? Would Siffrin need to use the same ritual? Would it always… hurt him?
You suspected that Siffrin wouldn't have the answer to these questions if you asked him.
"We should get some sleep," you told him, closing your book and pushing yourself to your feet. You felt the strain in your limbs just a bit and when you stretched, you could feel the creak in your back. "I suspect we'll have quite a lot of work ahead of us when the town unfreezes."
Siffrin nodded and pushed himself to his feet.
Tomorrow you might not have a choice in how things proceeded, so you should probably ask now, while you have the chance.
"Siffrin." They stopped and looked up at you. "Are you sure that you want to take up this task? It will not be easy and it will not be quick. It'll be more dangerous than our previous travels and more labor intensive as well."
Silence settled between you for a while. You hoped that they were considering your words and not considering how to distance themselves from you for the audacity of asking.
"I have to do this, I think," he said eventually. "Even if the Universe didn't guide me here, I owe it to Vauguarde. Also… I might be the only one that can." He looked up. "So I have to do it. I don't want Vaguarde to become just a memory." Another pause. "You don't have to help me… if you don't want to."
You reach out to place a hand on his head. "I'm not leaving you to do this alone, my dear rogue. This old lady will be with you for a while longer, yet."
He smiled, small and shy, but full of warmth. "Thanks Odile."
In the morning the two of you watch as the town comes to life. People that had been frozen in motion lurched forward, bird song slowly began to fill the air, the lightlessness receded from the world, and the air warmed. You and Siffrin tried to follow the wave of the curse breaking to catch those that were stuck in awkward positions and try to explain what had happened.
By the afternoon, most of the town was unfrozen and by nightfall, you could see the borders where Siffrin's wish had stopped.
You tried to explain, as simply as you could, what had happened. Neither you nor Siffrin really wanted to get into the idea of Wishcraft, but you didn't really need to. People understood that the two of you were responsible for unfreezing them and the rest didn't really matter to them all that much.
"We're so grateful to you, saviors!" Your eyes went to Siffrin when one of the townsfolk grabbed your hands to thank you. From the way they were shrinking into their cloak, you didn't think that they would appreciate the correction. Siffrin didn't particularly enjoy too much attention on him and while you knew that the attention would inevitably come, you didn't need to hasten the inevitable. "Please, is there any way that we can help you?"
You only needed to consider your response for a moment.
"There's a long journey ahead of us, a sizable task. And aid that you could offer…"
"Of course!"
"Anything for our saviors!"
The people of Vaugarde were generous. That could be expected from a person in their position, but you were fairly certain you would not receive this warm of a response from Ka Bue if your home had been in the same position. They offered you supplies for your journey, as much food as you could reasonably carry, and begged you to stay long enough for them to hold a celebration with you both.
You agreed, of course. There wasn't a time limit to your journey. Between fighting and traveling, the task would be arduous enough, but you weren't yet sure what burden Wishcraft would put on Siffrin, so you wanted to give them ample time to relax while they could.
During the height of the celebration you decide to check the Favor tree. You aren't yet sure what significance they hold to Vaugarde, you haven't gotten the chance to ask anyone yet, but Siffrin had told you what they were called and it had served as the base for their wish which seemed like it must be significant somehow. To your surprise, the light that had been housed within the paper cranes had died.
You spent a long time staring at them and at the people surrounding the favor tree. There were still so many unknowns about this journey, this mysterious craft. You weren't yet sure how to navigate it all, how you could help Siffrin, but you were determined to try. You knew that much.
"Hey, Odile!" You turned to Siffrin smiling up at you, holding out their hand. "Flower for you!"
It was a simple thing, the flower. Just a small token. But it had been frozen just hours earlier and now it was alive. Because of you. You and Siffrin.
You accept the flower with a small smile. "Thank you, Siffrin."
The smile that they gift you with is even better than the flower, but only one of those can be bundled up so that you can keep it with you forever.
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The Catch
This is sort of a prologue to 'An Artists Eye'. It uses the same way of meeting/Élise and Bellec are still alive, but reading the previous fic is not necessary! This is supposed to be after the game (but obviously a different ending), it more so came out as a completly different timeline- what the hell it's fiction anyway
Arno offers to show you around the hidden assassin base below Cafe Theatre. He also offers a risky sexual time in a small, curtain-drawn study in the archives.
Warnings/Tags: Google translated French, GN reader (no descriptions listed), oral sex/blowjob, risky sex, getting caught, probably ooc Axeman but IDK anything about him (he 'flirts' with you).
Word Count: 3.4k (rounded up)
AO3 LINK: Here
Enjoy.
---
Arno Dorian was a man of many suits. He drank like a monster, risked his life daily in more ways than one, and fought like a madman. But, he was an attentive lover. Caring and somewhat good-natured when it came to you.
You were wary of Arno's regular disappearances and injuries once you started dating him, perhaps a little more worried than a normal partner would be. You weren't sure if his gambling was getting him into fistfights or if he got into one too many scraps with local drunks, but you could never recall a time when he didn't come back to you unharmed.
At first, you’d thought him a thief or maybe a smuggler. To your surprise, he was neither (or both) but an assassin. You laughed at him then, giving him a look of disbelief, but when he stayed stone-faced, your look of humor soon turned into panic.
“Arno,” you had said, “you cannot be serious. An assassin?” He gave you a slight smirk that you can still picture perfectly today and took your hands in his. “Yes, an assassin. I’ve been one since I was twenty-two.” He said it so plainly that there was no other truth besides that- a killer. You weren’t scared, though, and perhaps you should have been. You trusted him not to get himself captured or, worse, killed.
Despite your trust, he did come home wounded quite often. The unexplained injuries suddenly made a lot more sense, especially the stab and slash marks from a sword--and, god forbid, a bullet hole once in a blue moon. While you weren’t thrilled about becoming skilled at suturing your lover, you got exceptionally good at it. In return, Arno affectionately called you ‘mon infirmière.’
My nurse.
“Arno,” you sighed nervously while threading a needle. “You know that you’re supposed to stick them with your sword, not be stuck by their sword, right?” He laughed and winced after, fists clenching at the two-centimeter-deep slash wound on his right side. “Oui, mon amour, I’m well aware. Sometimes, it’s a bit difficult while fighting three people at the same time.” You side-eye him then, tutting. “I have you, though, mon infirmière. You are much more gentler than Elise and not as scrutinizing.”
You also missed him a lot, even when he was right beside you. The constant fear that he might one day leave and never come back haunted you. Every time he returned in the dead of the night, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief. You would thank him, your voice barely audible as he quietly removed his boots, careful not to disturb your sleep.
It’s been six months since you’ve started dating Arno. Your worry decreased dramatically during that time. Partially because the longest missions Arno’s been on are only a few days to a week at most, partially because he’d always spend a day or two before that mission with you doing things he’d know would quell your stress. This time, though, he’d be traveling to Toulouse for three weeks: six hundred and seventy-eight kilometers, a day and a half carriage ride away.
Arno was going to leave in two days, and he had been spending time with you in between the preparations. You sat in a chair by the fire, scribbling around your sketchbook. Arno was gone—probably below Cafe Theatre or in the study—the only thing keeping you company was the gentle crackling of the flames and the songbirds chirping outside in the terrace garden. Summer was coming to its final stretch and starting to transition into fall. Leaves were turning into gorgeous shades of red and orange, the temperature just warm enough to leave without a coat, and the apple trees were blooming to make the perfect apple cider.
A beautiful time of growth and change, and you’d be experiencing it with mostly Elise and your best friend (not that you had anything against Elise or your best friend; you did love them, but something about fall was so romantic).
“Mon amour,” a disembodied voice said, “what are you drawing?” His hands rested on your shoulders, squeezing lovingly before he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “Eurasian jays,” you replied, moving your gaze from the crisp paper to your lover. He stole a chaste kiss and looked at your page of elegantly drawn birds. Arno recognized them as the bird that stole a piece of your bread a few months back, a smile drawing to his face.
Arno sighed through his nose. “How are you?” he asked, his voice ever more soothing at this peaceful moment. “Alright. How is your work going? Are you still leaving in two days?” His slight noise had confirmed, although he did not speak, and he moved one of his hands down, carefully taking your sketchpad away and setting it down on the table next to the chair.
“I have something that might put your mind at ease during my mission,” Arno said softly. “The Council has permitted you to visit our headquarters. You can meet my mentor and our fellow assassins. While you can't go there alone, I thought it might comfort you to see where I spend my time.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, quickly taking his hand as he helped you stand.
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t certain,” he replied, reassuringly smiling. “There aren’t many people there right now, maybe my mentor or a few friends. We could go now if you’d like?” You chewed your lip briefly, pretending to ponder before nodding. “Alright, let’s go.”
Arno led you down the familiar hallways of Cafe Theatre, but this time, he stopped at a spot you had never taken much notice of before. With an odd-looking key that you’ve never seen before slotted into the lock, the dark wooden door swung open with a quiet groan. Inside was a dimly lit staircase that descended into a stone hallway with a red rug lining the middle. “This way,” he said, taking your hand as he guided you into the dimly lit corridor.
The passage trailed downward, the air growing cooler and damper as you descended. The walls were lined with old, worn stone, and the faint scent of old books and earth made up the air. Arno walked with the confidence of a man who’d traversed these halls too many times to count, his gloved fingertips brushing against the bricks while his arm that didn’t wield the blade held your hand.
Eventually, you arrived at the bottom of the staircase. The hallway was much grander than you had seen from the top of the stairs--curtains framing big paintings of what you assumed were important figures in the assassin world, numerous pedestals holding silver or iron statues, and a large red tapestry with a white emblem on it hanging from the tall ceilings, the Creed’s sigil. The room was illuminated by torches mounted on the walls, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced over Arno’s face and shadowed a beautiful gleam on him.
Once the hallway ended, there was a room containing a long table surrounded by haphazardly pushed-in chairs. On all four sides of the room was another hallway, but the one in front of you led into a vast room resembling a courtroom. It was no less magnificent than the hallways—possibly a little more—such as the oak table covered in various maps and documents and the walls lined with weapons and other neatly organized tools of the trade.
Arno turns to you with a gentle smile, speaking in a tone that feels a little too loud for the setting, “This is where I spend much of my time when I’m not with you. It’s not much, but it’s home.”
You took in your surroundings with a deep breath. There was a strange comfort, as well as uncertainty and awe, seeing where Arno lived most of his life. You had talked about seeing the creed’s hideout when you first found out about his position, and honestly, what you saw now was not what you envisioned in your mind. When you think of Assassin, you think of torturing and other dark things. While you were sure it did happen, there was no hint of it here.
True to his word, there weren’t many people in the hideout. In fact, there wasn’t a soul around. “Is it normal for there not to be people?” You ask, looking at Arno as he wraps an arm around your waist. “No. Usually, there are many people, but most of us are out on missions, and the council is out on a meeting with-” “Arno!”
“Axeman, mon ami!”
You turned your head to the right to see a man walking towards you, an axe strapped on his back. You rolled your eyes playfully at the ‘clever’ name of his friend. Axeman slapped his hand on Arno’s shoulder in a hello, his brown eyes meeting yours. “And half of us thought you made them up,” he jests, sticking his hand out for you to take and gently kissing the back of your hand. “How could I make someone so great up?” Arno smiles, and his arm briefly squeezes you closer.
Axeman chuckles while running a hand through his pushed-back brown hair. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat with your lovely partner, I do have a mission to get to.” He gives you a small smile and Arno a playful smack again, turning to walk the way you came in. “Bellec’s around, so be on your best behavior.”
Once his buddy left, your lover turned to you, giving you a frisky smirk. “Let me give you a tour,” Arno grabbed your hand again with a slight squeeze and led you deeper into the underground hideout, his hand warm even through the worn leather glove. “This way,” Arno said, pulling you to the left hallway. This passage was thinner than the others and dimly lit by candelabras placed every five feet, occasional carvings etched into the stone walls between large pillars. Large wooden doors started after the fourth pillar, and Arno took you to the second one on the right side, swinging open the heavy door and nodding you inside.
“This is the main training room.” He gestured with a flourish, letting you step inside and look around. The space was huge, with mats covering the floor. Wooden dummies and targets lined two of the four walls, some riddled with throwing knives and arrows, some looking so broken it was just remembrance of rough training. Three assassins were sparring, one sitting down to the side drinking water and two practicing their knife skills.
“Care for a quick lesson?” He teased, knowing full well that you weren’t one for battling people, instead gnats or annoying flies that buzzed around. “Maybe later,” you replied with a grin, “What’s next?”
He followed you out and closed the door behind him, leading you across the hall into the next door. “Here is the armory.” The room opened to reveal wooden walls lined with weapons of every kind: swords, daggers, pistols, rifles, smoke bombs, bomb bombs, and, of course, things to maintain the hidden blade. Each was meticulously maintained and ready for action. “Most of us have our preferred weapons, so this is mainly for recruits or people who have lost a weapon. Pick any weapon, and it’ll have a story,” Arno said, following you inside.
His fingers brushed an ornate-looking sword, the beautiful engraving on the blade glinting in the candlelight. You reached out, touching a dagger with an intricate hilt next to the sword Arno was looking at. “What about this one?”
“Ah, that belonged to Thomas de Carneillon, an assassin in the 13th and 14th century,” Arno explained, “he tried to steal a sword of Eden, the same one that killed Germaine.” He gives you an inquisitive look and lets you wander around the round room, watching as you observe the weapons with a curiosity that makes his stomach twinge in an absurd kind of attractiveness.
Once you circle the room and return to Arno, he offers his hand again and leads you out of the room and deeper into the hallway. “You’ll love this,” he assures, motioning towards the end of the hallway where a huge arch opened up to a library. “This is the south archive,” he said, smiling at your giddy smile.
It smelled like old parchment, ink, and worn leather-bound books, a scent that engrained itself in your brain. Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, scrolls, and books lined the walls, going up to the ceiling where a giant metal chandelier hung. Maroon velvet curtains lined the arch, and when you slipped into the library, you didn’t notice Arno tugging the golden rope that held them back. The drapes made a soft noise as they closed, dimming the room just the slightest bit, and Arno watched as your fingers trailed over the spines of the books.
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “You said that this is the South archive?” Arno hummed a ‘yes,’ coming up behind you as you pulled one of the smaller books off the shelf. He wrapped his arms around your hips and kissed your temple, scanning the book you opened. “This library isn’t the biggest one here, but this one is always empty, perfect for us.”
Arno watched the trail of your fingertips against the worn paper, gentle like your fingers when you trail them over Arno’s back. His eyes followed your hand as you turned the page, forefinger and thumb pinching the page like when you pinch your nipple while he’s fingering you. He should not be turned on right now.
“Arno,” you said, head turning to look at your lover behind you. His eyes caught yours, your pretty eyes that always glistened right before you orgasmed, and right then, he made up his mind. Before you could speak again, Arno had pressed his lips against your soft ones, maybe just a little too roughly, the leather of the book in your hands creaking with how hard you gripped it.
His hand grabbed the book from your hands and placed it back on the shelf with a little bit of struggle. Nipping your bottom lip, Arno’s hands gripped your hips and slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He tasted like wine and something sweet--something him-- and god, you’d be lying if it wasn’t intoxicating for the both of you. When you did pull away, a slim bridge of saliva connected your lips and snapped when he licked his. You were suddenly very aware of the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into--his erection pressed into your behind and his needy hands wandering your body.
“We’re in the base,” you un-needily whispered, sucking in a small breath as his lips moved to your jaw and pressed a kiss just behind your jawbone. “Oui, but we are alone. No one is near us, and we’ll be quiet.” You shakily breathed as he continued to kiss along the side of your neck and fuck; if the thought of risk didn’t set a throbbing between your legs, you weren’t sure what did.
With an enthusiastic nod, Arno grabbed your hand and pulled you to one of the curtain-drawn study rooms off to the side. As he did with the entrance to the archive, Arno pulled the rope holding the drapes back off and dropped it to the floor. The ambient candlelight under the curtains, the only light in the ‘private’ study room, set a surprisingly intimate aura as Arno’s hand cups the side of your face and kisses you again. This one was headier, making your mind swim as his other hand grabbed your butt, pushing your hips into his.
Your hands that had been resting on his shoulders slipped down his chest and to his belt, one palming his obvious arousal and the other fiddling with the belt buckle. He groaned into your mouth, hips chasing your hand as you moved it up to help undo the buckle. His hands joined yours in a messy struggle, and once his belt was undone, you immediately sank to your knees.
Arno swore--a short, breathy ‘merde’ that sent every single ounce of blood that was in your brain rushing south, and with that blood came a fleeting thought of how easy it was to get you to suck him off in a place with people. It wasn’t the first time that you had sexual interactions in a public place--far from it--but it was the first time that you’d be on the giving end.
His hand came to rest on the back of your head as your fingers unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down with his undergarments just to free his cock. Even in the darkness, you could tell that he was fully hard, your hand that didn’t rest on his hip coming to stroke him teasingly slow. Your thumb swiped over his tip that dribbled precum, and his hips twitched with a soft groan that was nothing short of heavenly.
You softly pressed your lips against his head and trailed them down his shaft, letting your spit dribble against his heated skin and slicking him up with your hand. His quiet groans and the schlick of your hand made up the space--an erotic opera--and finally, your lips slipped around his tip and gently sucked. “Dieu, fuck, don’t stop,” Arno groaned, hips rocking in time with the drawls and push of your head. After enough saliva drips from your mouth and down his cock you took him deeper in just so the head of his cock was resting against the back of your tongue.
Arno moved both of his hands to the side of your head and gently held you in place, his thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, and he began to thrust into your mouth. At first, his thrusts were shallow, but as your hands came to his thighs once again, Arno gave a chuckle and picked up his pace. You slid your tongue against the underside of him, and he let out a groan, one that was a little too loud. “Good job, mon amour, good job…”
No matter how many times you took him in any way, there was never a time where he failed to make you so painfully aroused.
“Suck,” Arno said, stopping his movements rather deep inside the constrictive heat of your throat and petting your head. And just like he said, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. His head thudded against the wall he had his back rested on, and, oh, that groan. Primal and needy and wanting in every sinful way known to man. “S'il vous plaît, continuez, putain, juste comme ça. Tu me prends si bien- si bien, fuck!”
His fingers threaded through your hair and gripped the strands, holding them tight as he rocked against your mouth. Arno was so, so close, you just needed to suck a little harder and-
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ARNO?!”
You immediately pull off of Arno, who seems equally surprised but, strangely enough, not embarrassed. You wiped the back of your mouth with your hand and turned around, face mortified at the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. He shook his head and turned around, letting the curtain fall behind him, and you could still tell he was outside due to the shadow from under the drapes. Arno haphazardly tucked himself back into his pants and offered you a hand up off the ground. When he pulled you up, you gave him a look, one that said Arno, are you fucking kidding me? but all he did was chuckle and step out of the study.
“Désolé, Bellec.” Your lover said, utterly unphased by the fact you had just been caught in a very precarious and intimate moment, and you heard a sigh from not Arno. “You never fail to amaze me, pisspot,” The man- Bellec- laughed.
You stood in the study for a good fifteen minutes with your face aflame, too embarrassed to even walk out of the hideout.
Thankfully the second meeting with Bellec was not when you were sucking Arno off and instead over wine (that doesn’t mean you weren’t a hot-faced mess with an embarrassed smile on your face throughout the whole thing, though).
#arno dorian x reader#arno dorian#arno dorian smut#assassins creed x reader#ac unity#ac unity x reaer
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Sunshine (Jesper/Wylan)
Summary: Jesper has a dumb nickname for Wylan. Wylan insults Jesper’s nicknaming skills. Jesper can not stand for such an injustice. Fluff ensues. (Based on an anonymous prompt. I haven’t read the Six of Crows book, only watched the Netflix show, so I hope I got their characterizations right. I actually went and read the scene where Jesper calls him “Wylan Van Sunshine” in the books so I could understand the context. Hope y’all enjoy!!)
The nickname had begun as a joke, a dig at Wylan’s habit of expressing the negative consequences of their plans, but ever since its first utterance, Jesper finds he can’t stop saying it.
Thus, his boyfriend is oh-so-fondly dubbed as “Wylan Van Sunshine” and it makes that said boyfriend blush each time.
“I don’t know why you call me that,” Wylan grumbles, carefully placing chemicals back in their proper place before turning to face Jesper, something like a pout on his face.
“Because you are my sunshine,” Jesper replies. “The light of my life, always keeping me happy and warm…You know, all that cheesy nonsense.”
Wylan’s blush doesn’t disappear, but the answer seems to soften his features. “You’re a sap.”
“Only for you,” Jesper says, reaching out for his boyfriend, and Wylan steps forward to allow himself to be pulled into a tight hug, Jesper’s lips pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Wylan sighs, content. “I suppose it’s one of your better nicknames. You’ve come up with some quite horrendous ones in the past.”
Jesper lets out a gasp of mock offense. “How dare you! I’m great at nicknames.”
Wylan looks up at him with a look that just screams ‘seriously?’ and Jesper pouts. The position that they’re wrapped up in makes it easy for him to maneuver them back onto the bed in the corner of Wylan’s workspace.
“And what’s so wrong with my verbal expressions of love, hm?” he asks, holding both of Wylan’s hands and slowly maneuvering them upward, wrists pinned above his head.
Despite the vulnerable position, Wylan only looks mildly nervous, a touch more jittery than he usually is, and his lips are curling into a smile that he’s trying to bite back. “You say some of the sappiest, most ridiculous things,” he replies. “I love it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make fun of you for it.”
Jesper can’t keep up the act of offense, and breaks into a smile of his own. “And that means that I can still punish you for being cheeky, sunshine.”
Wylan’s mouth opens to argue or barter, but all that comes out is a squeal of laughter as Jesper’s fingers dig into his side.
“Wait, wait—”
“Wait for what? Because I’m not hearing an apology.”
Wylan is giggling too hard to give some sort of witty reply, and he certainly isn’t going to apologize, and so he just squirms in his partner’s hold and laughs, a high-pitched and
Jesper grins like a madman, all devious eyes and flashing white teeth, as his fingers crawl from Wylan’s right side and over to his belly, sliding beneath the loose sleep shirt (one he’d stolen from Jesper) and scribbling against pale skin,
The laughter only grows, as Wylan’s stomach has always been a weak spot, and his wriggling grows more desperate. “Jesper, please!”
“Please what, darling?”
“Stop it!”
“But your laugh is just so sweet,” Jesper coos in his ear. “I just can’t get enough of it, sunshine.”
Wylan splutters in embarrassment, clearly wanting to argue with the claim but laughing too hard to form a coherent sentence. They stay like that for a few moments longer, Jesper’s fingers dancing across Wylan’s skin, both of them giggling like mischievous children, until there is a loud thump! from above their heads.
It’s followed by two more rapid bangs: Kaz’s cane, signaling for them to shut up. They look at each other with equal parts mortification and amusement. The giggles don’t stop quite yet, but the tickling has ceased.
“He’s going to kill us one of these days,” Wylan rasps.
“Oh, Kaz? Nah, he’s all talk,” Jesper replies. “He loves us under all that grumpiness.”
Wylan looks at him as if to say, ‘you’re joking, right?’
It makes Jesper snort and snuggle close, pressing his lips to Wylan’s temple. “You’ll start to feel it eventually. He’s quite fond of you. I mean, how could he not be? Look at this sweet face!”
He pinches at the other’s blushing cheek, and Wylan bats him away with a fond roll of his eyes.
“Let’s just go to bed before we piss him off any further. Or else he’ll make you even older on the next passport.”
Jesper chuckles but is already tucking himself beneath the blanket, tossing it over Wylan’s legs and snuggling closer to him.
“Goodnight, sunshine,” he mutters. “Goodnight, sap.”
It seems as though that nickname is here to stay, and Wylan isn’t going to complain.
#wesper#wesper fluff#wesper fic#wesper fanfic#jesper x wylan#wylan x jesper#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#wylan van sunshine#grishaverse fic#six of crows#six of crows fic#six of crows tickling#six of crows tickle#raspberry writes
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Happy Homo days moth
happy homo days anon I just need you to know this made me cry laugh last night, so enjoy this new LC chapter just for you<3
Chapter 27: The Vault + Bonus
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Morning hit Stan like a slow burn, the weight of everything that had happened settling into his chest as he rummaged through the fridge. He wasn’t really hungry—too emotionally exhausted to bother with something solid—but he needed something. His eyes landed on a too-ripe banana and a pack of berries tucked in the back. He grabbed them, setting them on the counter beside the blender. Sleeping next to Ford last night had been….
Grounding.
That was a word Ford would probably liked to use, and yeah, it fit. Even if the nerd snored like a broken engine.
Stan peeled the banana with one hand, his other scratching at the back of his neck. The semester was creeping closer, and with it came the realization that they’d need to figure out how to break the news to Fiddleford. Not the kissing part, or the sex part. God, not that part. Just... that they were sleeping in the same bed.
Two brothers.
Totally normal.
Completely platonic.
Fidds didn’t have to know about the touching. Or the looks. Or—
He shut the fridge with his elbow and turned, pointing the fruit at Ford like it was a loaded weapon. “I’m still mad at you.”
Ford was perched on the counter, his face haggard but calm, arms crossed. He didn’t even flinch at the banana-wielding accusation. “I know.”
Stan snorted, peeling the fruit and grabbing a knife. “And we gotta figure out what to say to Fidds.” He sliced into the banana, watching Ford from the corner of his eye.
Ford sighed, nodding. “I know ,” he repeated, his voice softer this time.
.
.
.
You can read the rest here :3
~
Oh. you thought this was it? So silly. Enjoy a lovely one shot as well :3
Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite (3572 words) by Frondere Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Stan Pines Additional Tags: Sibling Incest, Twincest, Wet Dream, What’s a guy gotta do to stop thinking about almost kissing his own brother?, Threesome - M/M/M Series: Part 2 of Learning Commons Summary: For as normal as Stan had hoped things would be over the next two weeks, he quickly realized he was wrong. Very wrong. It was almost like Ford had never met him before, like that awkward first time in the library where everything between them felt strained and distant. Ford was cold, snippy, and kept to himself. Sure, it was finals season, Stan and Fidds had practically resorted to pleading with Ford to eat—at least a bowl of cereal, for crying out loud—and Ford just kept scribbling equations on the damn windows like some kind of madman. But what really stung was how Ford seemed dismissive whenever it came to anything involving Stan directly. Any time they were one-on-one, Ford brushed him off, gave half-answers, or flat-out ignored him. It was like he was trying to avoid Stan, and it didn’t help Stan’s current state of mind. Every night, he went to sleep only to have that incident in the bathroom replay in his head. It haunted him. Worse, sometimes those dreams took a frustratingly… vivid turn, forcing him to wake up and take care of…things. Like today, for example.
#stancest#moth's asks#moth's updates#learning commons#tis the season if you celebrate the holidays!#christmas for me is never a particular good time BUT ty for the well wishes i love u so much#sending u all some lovely happy holidays for whatever you celebrate (or just good vibes if you dont celebrate at all!)
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Hongjoong finding out you're ticklish
Okay Hongjoong won in the first voting, so here it is. I hope you like it! It's kindas hort :,) but it's the shortest out of all... I hope you like it tho
Pairing: Ler!Hongjoong x Lee!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Tickling
Group: Ateez
Warnings: This fiction is a tickle fic so if you don't like this kind of stuff, keep scrolling <3
☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼
You were watching a random series on Netflix with your best friend Hongjoong. But it was boring. You didn’t like the series that much and it wasn’t really exciting. So you wrapped your arms around Hongjoong’s waist and put your head on his chest.
He looked at you kinda confused. But he didn’t complain. It only had one negative side. He had a bad Ler Mood since the morning and the other members were all out for literally doing anything but being home.
So he looked at you again. And decided that he should try if you were a good Lee.
“I wonder Y/n, are you ticklish?” he randomly asked. You raised your eyebrows, while a little blush appeared on your cheeks. “Uhm…no?” you said but he heard your insecurity. And found it hilarious.
“Are you … sure?” he smiled softly as your cheeks blushed more. “Yes… absolutely…” you buried your face in his chest. “Nahahaw” he laughed at you, finding you absolutely hilarious and cute.
“Then you won’t mind if I try out right?” his smile turned into a smirk. “No- I mean yes I would mind-AH Hongjoong!” you tried to stop him but to late…
He has started poking your sides and from your squeal he now knew what he wanted to know. He had his prove that you were ticklish.
You flinched and tried to get away from the smoll evil boy but he pulled you back in his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you there, your back facing his chest while he softly clawed over your tummy.
You let out cute soft giggles while you squirmed a bit. Not really affectionate but that it at least looked like you were trying to get away. (You didn’t really want him to stop)
He really had fun and you could see that. And it was funnier that the series you were watching.
So he went for your side next. He softly scribbled with his free hands over it and sometimes randomly squeezed it. The squeals you were letting out when he did so were so precious to him.
He giggled with you, being so happy. “Aww you’re so cute Y/nahh! But I bet you can giggle louder~” And with that he released your waist and took his boths hands to softly squeeze your both sides. What made you squirm just more, and your giggles became much louder.
And his did too (>.<)
I’m crying
“Nohoho Hongjohohohoong wahahahait stahahap” you laughed. He just giggled and said “Why should I stop? You aren’t even ticklish, remember? You should stand this!” and your face, that was red from the tickling and laughing, even blushed more.
He goes for poking and scribbling over your ribs now and your laugher goes one octave higher. “Ahahahahahahaha nohohohohohooo” you complained a bit but he giggles softly at you.
“I just want to try one more thing” he said and stopped for now. “What?” you asked exhausted. As his hands moved to your hips and you get an idea what he wants to try.
“No, Hongjoong no I – AAAAAhahahahahaha nohohoho” you tried to stop him again but smoll leader had to get rid of his mood and it was nearly done. And he kinda knew that you were actually enjoying this because your hands were all free and you didn’t even really try to stop him, you just covered your red face with your hands.
So he dug his fingers in your sensitive hips, driving you crazy with that. He drew tiny circles in your skin, over your hipbone and with his thumbs under your ribs too. Smoll leader is skilled (>.<)
But he really drives you crazy with that, you soon cried tears, squirming like a madman. But you also sounded so happy, that he didn’t want to stop now. But you laugher also went silent after like 7 minutes and he wasn’t actually a demon so he stopped and rubbed your tummy and sides to get rid of the ghost tickles.
You calmed down again and as he saw that you were breathing normally again, he immediately felt sorry for what he did. And so,, the kind, cute smoll leader he is,, he apologized.
“Ohh I’m sorry Y/n, I should’t have done this… Are you okay…?”
You shyly nod. “Yeah I’m fine.”
You took all your braveness and said “You don’t have to be sorry. I … liked it.” You blushed hardly.
“Awwww” his smile was so bright, it could lighten up a whole room. He was clearly happy. Your smile was bright too now.
“That’s so cute Y/n!” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, hugging you tight. You hugged him back. “I love you, Joongie” you whispered and buried your face in his shoulder. “I love you too” he said and you could hear his smile.
You woke up the next day, still in your best friends arms. You really loved him.
END
A/n: okay this is the first part of the ‘how each Ateez member finds out/ reacts to you being ticklish’, I really hope you like it! It’s actually the shortest out of all, but it’s still long… Anyways, thank you for reading
Love youu <3
A/n2: I'm really sorry that It is THAT short TT.TT DX
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Welcome to my blog! Where i mainly post about my future leo; Orion! (Even though that's a nickname, lol)
I also have a future donnie design, who has been named (with the very generous help of @sinestrosmind) Akari! Or Aki for short :]
(I have a patreon if you're interested)
My patreon is mostly a general support type thing tbh, which is extremely appreciated! But as a patron, you also get to see the content I post here on Tumblr as well as abandoned projects and occasional writing, you also get to suggest my next piece or a prompt (although i can't promise that it'll catch my eye!), if I'm not sure what to draw next i might make a post and let you help me decide, you can make requests but I'm very driven by what personally interests me when i draw, basically I'm not able to draw something that i don't enjoy drawing. I also might just be burnt out, as i get burnout periods rather often
In the future i hope I'll post short comics that i myself draw, and gifs, animatics, anything really :] i just want to create, but i only started seriously learning to draw about a year ago, so it'll take a while before i do the things i need actual patience for lmao <3
I also occasionally post some Semi-Feral Polaroids content! It's a lovely shared AU @so-called-yokai and i put together where Orion and their gorgeous oc Eshra are romantically involved :]
I'm rather socially awkward due to ADHD, Autism, and social anxiety, so i can't promise that I'll respond to comments
Just know that i appreciate it a whole lot when you take time out of your day to tell me something!
I'm new to Tumblr ( I have only had it since the summer of 2023 ish). So bear with me as i learn how to use it!
I will post here very rarely (i can disappear for like 6 months at a time, that is a promise) but the rise fandom has motivated me to get better and draw again (hyperfixations go brr)
(i basically only draw Orion and Eshra but y'know-) oh, and i don't fuck with t-cest, that's nasty. I'm also not very invested in ships other than Semi-Feral Polaroids, so don't expect that from me
I made my own au a while back! I'm still fleshing it out and all, but i named it "slightly feral future leo (with ghosts)" or "sffl(wg)" for short. It's a very self indulgent "peepaw ended up in the past for no specific reason" au and it doesn't really have much plot yet, but i just like drawing cute turtle scenarios (a lot of the Leo's snoozing since they deserve a nap) or sometimes I'll draw some angst, (I'm very into angst, but I'm bad at drawing it lol)
Keep in mind that I've been very inspired by other creators and their au's when i created this one, most of it is cherry picked from others creations but i still like it. Even if some very well thought out and emotional concepts have been plucked and haphazardly shoved into my mess of an au, i just want to avoid as much confusion as possible by writing this long ass post ngl
I've decided to let people ask me things now. However, if you have any art requests whatsoever, just know that i only draw when I'm inspired and really, REALLY feel like it! I do still appreciate asks about my au if you're interested, though! (Art requests that i don't draw or can't draw might be saved for later and drawn in the future, btw. though it's not guaranteed)
If you couldn't already tell, i write a lot! I love describing things and telling some stories with drawings, so be prepared for some wordy and long ass posts, lol!
I also have a uh, rather neglected side blog (@a-variety-of-scribbles), it consists of literally anything except my scribblings
Now, have an amazing day you wonderful creature! (whatever you may be)
❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 🩵 💜 🤎
#sffl(wg)#my au#save rottmnt#this is my hobby#i draw shitposts sometimes#rottmnt#third season#art#my art#rottmnt fanart#rottmnt future leo#be patient with me please#beginner artist#future leo#semi feral polaroids#Orion
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Tech x reader (NSFW) pt. 1/2
Excuse some of the crude language, I dont picture a relationship with Tech being overly romanticised so it felt weird to have especially eloquent and descriptive words for some reason 😂
Mostly fluff, gets more NSFW the further down you read. Enjoy!
(pt. 2 in development)
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· I am a retired bounty hunter who gets employed by the Republic as a reconnaissance contact
· I was born on Ord Mantell
· I am quite paranoid, which makes me a great scout as I am always on the lookout.
· I am covered in piercings and tattoos
· Tech is also covered in tattoos
[reference 👇]
Meeting
· I work in 79's when I'm not on missions. This is where I was briefly acquainted with the Batch.
· I then got put on a mission with them about a month later.
· He is fascinated by my creative knowledge and wisdom. It is different than his own knowledge and while he's actually quite good when he joins me to paint sometimes, he struggles with conceptual ideas and prefers cold, hard facts.
· Me and Tech really hit it off with intellectual debates. I learnt stuff from him and he liked it when I asked for advice, but he also learnt about social and moral concepts from me.
· I am a trained night owl because I work in a bar, but i also enjoy the mornings, soaking in the peacefulness of either sides of the day.
· We are always the last 2 to go to bed, working in silence or having hushed conversations in the cockpit.
· Tech started to look forward to this undisturbed time with me.
· everyone noticed that I was Tech's new favorite person.
Flustered
· he was sat in the corner in 79's one night looking a litle distracted. I asked Hunter and Crosshair what was up when they were getting drinks. Hunter wasnt sure, but Crosshair said
· "he's hung up on someone and doesnt quite know what to do with himself."
· Hunter looked incredulous "who??"
· Crosshair's gaze went straight from Tech to me. I responded with a snort.
· he'd gotten onto Tech's data pad and seen mission reports filed by me. It looked like he was researching me, analysing my speech and thought process to be able to talk to me better.
· they asked me what i was going to do. I made a 'fuck it' face and finished my shift half an hour later.
· i came out with shots and offered one to Tech. "Come one mopey, we gonna dance?"
· as he stood up and shotted, "theres just something i gotta do first" and I took his chin and met his lips to mine.
· he got very flustered and started babbling about something in a low mumble. I took his hand and led him to the dancefloor.
· his dancing was a little awkward and self-conscious, but he was glad it was jazz so he didnt have to let loose to blend in. He was watching me intently the whole time. Me peppering him with kisses and him beginning to reciprocate, letting go of my hands to pull my waist in close. My arms thrown around his neck, we danced in an embrace.
· as we were around the boys all the time, we didnt get ample time to ourselves.
· Tech is NOT a morning person. He will stay asleep as long as time allows and is very grumpy. He will snap at people before he has his coffee.
· The boys warned me after we'd already slept together. I enjoy quiet in the morning anyway so I hadn't disturbed him.
· Morning Tech started to appear less often as having someone wake him up with neck kisses put him in a much better mood.
· we soon worked out that his main kink was love bites. It turned him on to see them during the day and know I was his.
· Tech is a madman. He clutters, scribbles on his walls, accidentally stays up late and tattoos himself.
· I slot into this well. While not as hardcore, I also tattoo myself and I am easy with the clutter. I am not the most tidy person but I like that I never feel guilty for it because he's worse than me.
· We are the lords of parallel play. We can sit in silence for hours. Tech tinkers, I do creative things, sometimes we sit and tattoo each other.
Good Morning
· we were on the Marauder after the rest of the boys woke up early to pick up parts in the city.
· I got up to make caff. Tech came in as I sipped and looked out the window.
· he made a cup and came to stand just behind me. I took his arm and wrapped it around my waist. He relaxed into it and rested his cheek on my head.
· I kissed his hand and he melted. He kissed my temple and made his way down to my neck, his hand moving to my hip. He stretched to set down his caff and squeezed my hips.
· i set my mug down and reached behind my head to stroke his hair. He pulled my pelvis into his as he added little licks down my neck and nibbled my ear.
· i turned around and our lips met. He towered over me as we backed against the wall.
· we jacked each other off at the same time until he lifted me up to curl my legs around his head and sat me on him.
· he began respectfully, but adapted as I encouraged him to go harder.
· i ended up turning round and he took me from behind. One hand reaching to rub my clit and biting my neck.
· he finished just after me.
· i had to brace against the wall to keep myself standing - weak in the knees. Tech twisted around and leaned his back against the wall. We looked at each other panting and chuckled before he took my hand and turned me around, sinking down to bring me ino his lap, where he held me and we kissed and talked.
· Tech is a sex GOD. I've had it good from bounty hunters, but never like him. He learnt everything about the female body when we got together to ensure I had the best time.
#tbb#tbb smut#tbb headcanons#tbb fluff#tbb fic#tech#tech x reader#tech x you#tech headcanon#79's#clone headcanons#star wars fluff#the bad batch#the bad batch fic#the bad batch headcanons#the bad batch x reader#the bad batch x you
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🐀 is back everyone helloooo!! i am here tonight to talk about my thoughts on lee!pavitr. this guy seems like the type of person to not be able to STAND being tickled, but loves it anyways. whenever hes being tickled by hobie or one of the other spider-guys, hed be squirming and giggling like a madman but he wouldnt do anything to stop whoever is tickling him just because of how much he enjoys it. to me, pavitr doesnt seem like he would let out really loud laughs no matter how bad the spot is, he seems like a giggler. he also seems like he wouldnt be totally fluatered or anything by a whole lot of teases, but for some reason he automatically starts blushing if you call him cute, or cutie. thats the only thing that gets to him for some reason, but the gang LOVES uses it to their full advantage(especially hobie, hes such a menace when hes in a ler mood). lots and lots of babbling and nonsense if you hit a bad spot, he'll squeak and giggle and squirm like his life depends on it. also hcs for pav that i have, his neck, his stomach and his shoulders are really bad spots and he has an oddly specific melt spot behind both his ears. have fun with this, anon squeaky loves you all!!!
All of this. Just. Yes. This is beautiful to read.
And, if I may add, I don’t think this man can even form a proper sentence when he gets tickled. It’s either the start of one then gets trickled out by giggles, or random words he can say and that’s it 🤣 AND it is now canon that he does those little fast kicks if you get him in a super good spot. Like if you get that tummy of his, be ready for dancin’ Pav cause he’s gonna be moving! 🥰
And his glutes are super ticklish too, not to mention his lower back. If you squeeze and scribble in either of those places? You might have to hold a funeral since this man will be DEAD 🤣🤣🤣
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🛒+ 🤩?
🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.
Mostly a lot of overwhelming emotion I think, primarily angst and feelings of deep loss or purpose. Something along the lines of existential feelings of "What is the sum of my existence" How do I cope with the fact that I will never have a resolution to some of my greatest regrets" and so on and so forth. I think I just really like writing about things that hurt, but trying to spin that hurt into something the characters (and readers) can come to live with without being overcome by despair.
🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?
All of them I guess, of course I have my obvious favorite (Optimus, who's just my favorite in general) but I think the thing about writing is that each character has the capacity to unlock unique emotions inside of me. I can't get my "emotional fix" from just writing one character, I have to mix it up sometimes in order to scratch specific itches.
Impactor is really fun, if challenging, to write. I like how cynical and helpless he is but still aching to accomplish something meaningful.
Pharma is fun to write too whether I'm playing him as the tragic unseen hero or as an unhinged madman. I've only written him as unhinged for my Tarnma BDSM Zine piece, but I've done a bit of thinking/scribbling about him in his "normal" state too and quite enjoy it.
Zeta is another fun favorite even though I've only written him twice for two AU fics. In the next chapter of TOMW (whenever the hell I update that) Zeta is going to appear to give a private advice/warning to Optimus and I'm soooooo looking forward to being able to showcase Zeta as a character, as he's virtually unknown among the TF fandom!
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Thank you for putting it as comments 🩷💖🩷 This is exactly what I was talking about. He's not enjoying it. He's reliving the other event in Xishan. However, Ronghao is making a choice. Certainly not an island, but we do have to hold people accountable. Since you've pointed out he's not a madman, then we can say he is aware of what he's done. We hold them accountable when they know the deed is morally wrong, they have a choice to say no (and he does have this choice just at the expense of Chidi which as part of his choice he's not willing to let go of) and still move forward with their actions. Grief blinded, but not to the point he couldn't tell murder is 'wrong'. Otherwise he wouldn't feel regret. If he didn't know it was wrong, then it's a different judgement. But he does, and that is what makes him regret it and what makes this heartbreaking. He is doing it because he is her disciple. (an oh how this trope gets messy in cdrama. yessssss) I wonder if Changheng felt guilty about Ronghao - meaning, Changheng looks back and says to himself he wished he would have recognized Ronghao's grief and been a better friend (here). Is this part of his motivation to not let Dongfang grieve on his own? I like thinking Changheng felt guilt regarding Ronghao's death and this is one way to show he's changed. He becomes a better friend to Dongfang than Ronghao and that is admirable growth as a character.
Xunfeng wouldn't have recognized him unless for some reason Ronghao met him in a battle? The only time they encounter each other is as Prince of Moon Tribe and Lord of Haishi. Xunfeng (in canon) doesn't have the opportunity to meet Ronghao of Shuiyuntian. (scribbles more notes for the fic)
Love Between Fairy and Devil | 苍兰诀
Xu Haiqiao as Lord Ronghao
#meta#lbfad#discussion#lord ronghao#chidi nuzi#thank you for rebloging the comments#headcanon#notes for fic#yes you are right#he's doing it for her#thinks she wants him to do everything possible#to bring her back#she was not a good shifu#and I bet this is one reason she didn't already have a disciple#she had to go and get a mortal#and bring them back#Yunzhong couldn't refuse her then#plus she wanted a child#the way she looks at Orchid in the one scene as they are hugging
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TickleTober2022/Day 18 - Chase
Vanitas no Carte - Vanitas x Noe
Noe ran across the hallway, not daring to look behind. He wasn't sure if he could hear Vanitas's footsteps behind him, but the vampire wouldn't dare checking it.
Of all people, why did he have to become the test subject for something like that? Well, he did know why, but he still did not like the idea of Vanitas running experiments on him.
"Come back here, Noe!!" Vanitas shouted while chasing him, noticing how the vampire was increasing the distance between them.
"Leave me alone!" Noe cried back, managing to get enough advantage to make his friend lose sight of him. The whitehead quickly threw himself at the nearest room and took a seat behind the couch to hide himself. His heart was beating fast, like a drum inside his chest. Noe placed his hand over his face, trying to cover up the sound of his heavy breathing.
And, then, the silence seemed to fill the place. Noe couldn’t hear the sound of someone walking in the hallways anymore, neither could hear anything else than his own breathing inside the room. Did he manage to escape Vanitas? Would it be safe to come out-
“Found you!”
“AHHH!!”
No, it wasn’t. With ease, Vanitas pulled the other by his shoulder, tackling the vampire to the ground and straddling his legs. The ravenhead wasted no time in taking his hands to the other’s ribs, wiggling his fingers.
“V-VahAHahAhanitas!! N-ohOHOh t-tihihickling!” Noe giggled, pressing his arms against his body as he tried to protect himself from the ticklish assault.
“It would’ve been so much easier if you hadn’t made me chase you like a madman,” Vanitas scolded him, scribbling over the spot mercilessly despite Noe’s desperate defense, “I just asked you a simple question! There was no need to run from me like that,” he continued, trying his best to sound annoying, but only being able to smile back at the other laughing under his touch.
“PLEHEhehase- eheHEh, I c-cahaHAhan’t!” The whitehead cried between his cackles, shaking his head left and right as Vanitas threatened to move his hands up, squirming as much as he could inside the space he had.
“If you had simply admitted that you are ticklish, we could have avoided all that, you know?” The man teased with an evil grin on his lips, “now that I won’t have to chase you again, care to tell me, Noe, where are you ticklish the most? ~”
However, the only answer Vanitas got for his question was a louder laughter from the other as he tested the sensitivity of his underarms. Well, it looked like he would need more time to find out… and a few more attempts too.
A/N: Again, as soon as I saw this prompt on the list, I thought about them. I’ve been wanting to write for this pair since I finished the first season and I have to admit that I was (and still am) obsessed with lee!Noe. So here we are, being a bit self-indulgent, but I think it’s fine, hehe. Hope you enjoyed your reading!
#augtickletober2022#tickletober2022#vanitas no carte#noe archiviste#vanitas#vanitas x noe#lee!noe#ticklish!noe#ler!vanitas#anime tickling#tickle fic#vanitas no carte tickling
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ೃ༄HIT DICE (I)
EDDIE MUNSON X HARRINGTON!OC
MASTERLIST
✧chapter one: expectations of a buttercup
↳ word count: 6,8k
↳ spoiler warning: seasons 1-3
↳ other warnings: smoking weed, being high, mildly drastic wound description (regarding the Mind Flayer), mentions of death (minor characters)
↳ mentioned songs/artists: Tears for Fears, Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix, Diary of the Madman by Ozzy Osbourne
↳ a/n: hello lovies! I’ve been working on this piece since the ending of vol.2, trying to bring our boy Edds justice. hope you enjoy my little scribbles! if you want to be notified each time I post — comment or dm me!
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Sometimes, expectations can appear exorbitant.
For instance, some may anticipate to pass a strenuous test with flying colors. Others may hope to conduct a trenchant analysis of the nagging emotions, seething inside of them. There are also those, who look forward to obtaining wealth; whether it's spiritual or plainly material.
Those things, however, are significantly more likely to be fulfilled while compared with...
"Steve! I swear, I'm going to fuckin' kill you!"
...the expectations regarding your own siblings.
"Geez! Calm down, booger," Steve Harrington sighed loudly, rolling his eyes at the sound of his younger sister re-entering their house.
A spoon he was eating his cereals with was still in his mouth when he heard a harsh noise of the car keys hitting the surface of their wooden kitchen table.
"I've been telling you for the past four days there's something wrong with my car!" The brunette girl bursted out with an expression of utter anger. The kind, people let themselves express only around the closest family members.
"So, uh, have you considered visiting a mechanic?" Steve answered nonchalantly, completely not bothered by the fit of rage his sister was displaying.
"You've promised me to do it!"
With that, Steve Harrington finally took the metal spoon out of his mouth and with the most blank and carefree expression asked, "Did I?"
It was the final nail in the coffin for the already furious girl. Plucking up unspeakable amounts of strength, she gritted her teeth in hopes of keeping her composure steady...
...or rather what had remained of it at that point.
"On Wednesday, to be precise. It's Friday today," she reminded him, inhaling audibly. Just as her mother always ordered her to do when she wanted to calm herself down.
"Well, that's great then, isn't it?" Steve smirked, getting up from his chair as he sloppily placed the bowl and the spoon in the sink. "Friday, weekend... Lot's of free time, 'ya know? Might as well visit the mechanic yourself," he added deliberately, simply to further annoy his younger sibling.
It wasn't surprising at all when his sister let out another frustrated growl. To be frank, it was exactly what Steve had expected and, as the matter of fact, something he would never get tired of.
"It's not about fixing the car now! It's about you not keeping the promises!" The girl was fuming as she walked up to him. "I'm telling you that there's a problem, you're assuring me you'll help me with it, and what? Each time I start the engine, my pretty baby is wheezing and grunting like goddamn Sloth!"
Steve watched in amusement as his sister throws her hands in the air, only to mumble, "I thought sloths are usually really quiet."
The brunette stopped herself to blink twice at her brother's remark.
"I meant the character in the Goonies. You know, the one with fractured skull... Geez! You work in Family Video! You should've gotten the reference," she explained with a sigh, now anxiously stomping her feet.
"What?" Steve chuckled at the sight of his sister suddenly regaining her usual persona.
"Well, I'm waiting for you to drive me to school, idiot. I need to get there somehow," she answered with an excessive amount of confidence in her voice.
"You can always use your bike," he shrugged casually, grabbing, however, the keys to his BMW as he made his way towards the door. With a victorious grin, his sister followed him, mechanically walking up to the front seat of the car. "Hey! We're picking up Robin as well. You gotta sit in the backseat for being a pain in the ass," he added, watching her once again grimacing in disbelief at his antics.
"We could've not have this conversation if you did what you've promised," she murmured, eventually taking her seat in Steve's car.
A Tears for Fears song resounded when the vehicle started. It was immediately followed by Steve's cheeky humming as he made a U-turn, putting his sunglasses on at the same time.
"That's child endangerment," his sister remarked, noting how the maneuver was done with only one of his hands.
"Yeah, why do you think I did that?" Steve grinned from ear to ear, turning up the volume of the radio.
Bickering was something that often occurred between the Harrington siblings, whether done by sheer malice or purely out of boredom. It was a repetitive theme despite the indisputable status of their parents or, maybe, it was that exact spoken social expectation that made the sibling behave abruptly childish when left alone. Just as the two of them were frantically trying to hold onto the only relatively positive aspect of their lives — their carefree childhood.
It would have been an understatement to claim the Harringtons weren't living a comfortable life — quite the opposite actually. With their parents obtaining respectable positions that guaranteed a certain level of wealth, the siblings couldn't complain about lack of money, nor inability to pursue their hobbies. Neither of them were bullied because their upbringing or a particular item of clothing they decided to wear. Neither of them experienced the downsides of live other children at their age faced with everyday.
Due to all of the advantages the siblings had, it was almost impossible to complain about any inconvenience, no matter how grand. Moreover, that fact was making it excruciatingly hard for them to realize that, in fact, they both faced their own demons.
"Is dad coming home this weekend?" The tone in which the question was spoken utterly differed from the one used in conversation that had happened just a while ago.
"No clue. Besides, you're the one that should know. He likes you better," Steve muttered, glancing at his sister's reflection in the back mirror. His answer, however, didn't hold no envy nor jealousy. It was a mere stating of facts, which unfortunately still made his sister feeling a specific type of tingling in her chest.
Guilt.
Rivalry between the Harrington's appeared when they both were attending High School and ended as soon as Steve graduated. While telling his parents he wasn't looking forward to attend a university just yet, they abruptly cut off his allowance, claiming his two options now were to make up his mind, or simply find a job. Steve vividly remembered the agitation on his father's face when this conversation took place. Most importantly, he recalled him and his mother debating whether or not had him to move out. The only thing that made them change their minds was the calm voice of his younger sister, slowly talking them out of the idea. With the politeness of a grand duchess and the debate skills of an Oxford lawyer, the girl singlehandedly stopped a tragedy from happening...
...or that at least he had told Robin the first time she properly met his sister.
Properly, because the two of them were already acquainted with each other. After all, they were peers, attending quite a few classes together for the past three years, now going on four.
"Hi, Dingus... Oh, hi, Stacy!" The door of the car swung open as the voice of Robin Buckley greeted the Harrington siblings. Putting on a seatbelt, she squinted her eyes after ogling her classmate, "Why are you sitting in the backseat?" she asked, amused.
"Ask him, not me," Stacy Harrington shrugged, a sly smirk appearing on her face when she playfully grabbed the sides of her brother's face from behind. "Look at that shit-eating grin. So proud of bullying his little sister," she added with a false notion of hurt.
"Yeah, keep shaking my head. It's not like I'm driving or doing anything else that could potentially cause a car crash," Steve complained in a monotonous tone, causing Stacy to furrow her brow and pretend to choke him, her fingers never touching his neck.
"It's like watching a soap opera with the two of you," Robin exclaimed, her eyes wide open in pure diversion.
"Not my fault he's an airhead," Stacey scoffed.
"Not my fault she's mental," Steve replied in the exact same manner.
It was only a matter of another few minutes when the trio found themselves in the Hawkins High parking lot. With one more insult exchanged between the siblings before saying goodbye, Stacy got out of the car, holding onto her brown leather bag.
"So," Robin started after walking up to her. "Have a good day, Harrington."
The awkwardness with which the sentence was spoken equaled Stacy's response that contained of a quiet, "Yeah..." And even more inaudible, "You too."
Watching the dark-blonde girl disappear into the depth of a school corridor, Stacy tightened the grip on her bag. It had only been a few seconds before her timid expression vanished. The reason for the sudden change? The silhouettes of her classmates appearing on the horizon.
With a polite yet insincere smile she was used to, Stacy waved them hello after fleeing to the bathroom. With a deep sigh, the dark-haired girl rested her palms on the sink that had definitely seen better times.
Another day of being a coward, she thought to herself before she heard the bell ring.
She regretted not chatting with Robin Buckley after they got out of the car. She regretted not being able to drop the role she was still unwillingly pursuing. After all, the two high school seniors were parts of cliques that drastically differed, given not only their social status, but also the general idea of their characters; Robin wasn't popular amongst other students. She was a band geek, who wasn't afraid to reply with a snarky comment. Despite her coyness, she was almost always able to be her most authentic self.
Stacy's role, on the other hand, had been assigned to her the day she enrolled high school. With her brother Steve — formerly known as the King — Harrington, she didn't need to worry about venturing into the extraneous place that contained of stereotypes, social stigmas and, simultaneously, sweaty basketball players, aggressively slamming the door of a locker in front of her face. It came easy to her to find her way in high school after having it already paved by her older brother.
At first, it was like a dream come true — everyone smiling at her sight, not being targeted by the older kids. Herself, Stacy was quite an opinionated and bold teenager. Moreover, she had the audacity to speak her mind without being afraid to be raked over the coals. Therefore, she had gained a fair share of popularity — amongst classmates because of her charisma, and amongst teachers due to her academic skills. A picture perfect scenery, if you were to ask her just two years ago. An ideal high school experience, was what she would have said up until the last summer.
The last summer.
Stacy squinted her eyes in the middle of her math class.
Stacy thought being stuck in the other dimension with her brother and a bunch neighborhood kids last October was bad. She though learning about the existence of the Upside Down was just enough. That, however, did not prepare her for what she was about to witness. Every so often her memory was flooded by the horrid images of the Starcourt Mall massacre. The fire, the gunshots, the ginormous monster made out of the flesh of flayed Hawkins citizens.
And the little pink bow sticking out of its body. The little pink bow that belonged to her classmate, Heather.
Moreover, much like her brother, Stacy Harrington grew up. How could she not? After all, after witnessing what her eyes had seen was enough to mature anyone, especially a preppy girl, whose only concern was what to wear to the pep-rally. Now, her problems oscillated not only in the area of Hawkins High, but also consisted of the emotional trauma she couldn't share with anyone.
She found peace and serenity in cutting herself off of the social life. At least, to the amount that could still held her in favors of the school elite. After all, she saw what happened to her brother when he stopped being friends with Tommy and Carol — he was dethroned. Bullied even. Although King Steve would never admit that. Therefore, Stacy calculated what she needed to do in order to maintain both her peace of mind and the position. That being — occupying herself with school work and claiming she needed to focus on passing the finals flawlessly.
It wasn't a complete lie. Stacy consequently succeeded academically, learning bringing her genuine satisfaction. Now, however, it became an unstoppable coping mechanism. A last thread that was keeping her sane.
Today was no different than what she had gotten herself used to for the past year: get up, argue with Steve, attend classes. This is why she was now in cafeteria, sitting on the opposite side of the table Chrissy Cunningham was located at.
Cheerleaders and preppy girls. Something that used to be Stacy's pride, now ended up being a burden.
Munching on a piece of stale toast, she mindlessly looked up, her eyes trailing down the windows with Halloween decorations still on. Of course no one bothered to take them down, it was just a week after the holiday.
Her stare landed on the theatre kids spot. Stacy always admired the bold accessories some of them used to put on. For instance, today a girl, whose name couldn't pop up in Stacy's mind, was wearing an obnoxiously large black hat with flowers of the same color.
Then, she turned her gaze towards the band geeks amongst which Robin was seated at. All absorbed in a conversation, they shared smiles with each other. Smiles, that were far from sarcastically amused expression of the cheerleaders when they were gossiping.
Finally, her eyes travelled towards the direction of Dustin, Lucas and Mike, who were just about to put their trays down at the Dungeons and Dragons table. Her stare must have been obvious, hence her brother's curly-haired friend waved at her. In response, she raised her hand up, watching the eyes of the infamous Eddie Munson widening. With a chuckle, he gesticulated vividly while starting up a conversation with Henderson.
Returning her attention to her plate, Stacy looked down. There was no possibility she was ever going to be like these kids. Not bothered by anyone's opinion, not worrying about the social status, but most importantly — not being afraid to be themselves.
She, Stacy B. Harrington, was the biggest coward of them all. And the only thing she could do about it was live in never ending regret.
It took her another three classes to came to the conclusion that she couldn't keep her act anymore. Everything was leading to her downfall, and the only thing that could eventually stop her from reaching her breaking point was the notion of her completing the most idiotic plan she could currently came up with.
And Dustin Henderson was to blame for that. If it hadn't been for him waving at her, the idea would've never cluttered her mind.
With the sound of the last bell of the day, Stacy made her way towards her locker, waiting for a certain individual to show up. It took a few minutes for her to notice his silhouette approaching the lockers. To be complete frank, Stacy could've closed her eyes and still know it was him — the sound of a clinking chains attached to his belt was making it impossible to confuse Eddie Munson with any other person from Hawkins High.
There were numerous rumors surrounding his persona, as well as the club he was the leader of. Stacy recalled one of the cheerleaders claiming they sacrifice neighborhood babies for satanic rituals. Although this could be as well a poor joke told by someone of Jason Carver's sort. Disregarding the mass-frightening stories, Stacy could clearly see why people were resentful when it came to Eddie. After all, he did, in fact, repeat senior year once again this year. And that already added to his mysterious and formidable persona.
Yet, being a Harrington concluded Stacy was acting incredibly confident in times of possible danger. It so happened to be awfully extensive to the point where she was plainly making an idiot out of herself.
"Hi," she said as soon as she noticed Eddie closing his locker.
Apparently hearing her voice was so unexpected to him, he blinked rapidly before opening his mouth.
"My, my! Stacy Harrington giving me a heart attack on a Friday afternoon..." he started, the fact she truly scared him covered by his smooth-talk. "Can't say that something I'd ever imagined to happen, though I'm not mad," he chuckled.
Although the words naturally flew from his mouth, Eddie Munson had to admit that conversations with popular people were making him beyond uncomfortable.
"Well, I do have something to ask you for," Stacy replied, entertained by the exaggerated expressions he was displaying as they spoke.
"A few words more and I'll be convinced you weren't staring at our table today because of Henderson, but because of me," he smirked, observing how the girl in pleated blazer opened her mouth to appear slightly offended.
"I wasn't staring at anyone!" she argued in a playful tone, letting out a single giggle at the end of her exclamation.
"Sure. How could I possibly cause Miss Harrington of such things?" Eddie asked, dropping his eyes down for a second. "Anyway... cut to the chase," he added, standing up straight.
" I have this little green problem," she said with a serious tone but furrowed her brow as Eddie did not elaborate. "Purple Haze problem?" she tried to make another reference.
"Oh, you're a Jimi Hendrix fan?" Eddie exclaimed, toying with the fact that both Hendrix's song and a specific type of plant shared the same name.
"Don't make fun of me," Stacy reprimanded him, however, failed in keeping a stone expression.
"I'm not," Eddie defended himself. "It just has to be the weirdest way of someone asking me for some weed."
The girl scoffed, looking away for a brief moment, "Apologies for the lack of professionalism."
Eddie shook his head, maybe to appear more intimidating, maybe to cover the smile that was highly inappropriate for a drug dealer. "Meet me in my car in twenty. Just so, you know, none of your prim girlfriends will see you," he meant the last sentence as a joke, although it hit a bit too close too home for Stacy.
Nodding her head, they parted their ways, so as Stacy found herself once again in the school bathroom today. Glancing at her reflection, she quickly fixed her hair — another thing the Harrington siblings had in common. A neat coiffure, held in place by Farrah Fawcet's hairspray.
The twenty minutes Stacy was supposed to wait were dragging on substantially, equal to what waiting for a parent in a grocery store was like. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Stacy left the school grounds, making her way towards the well-known van. Knocking on the back door, she was immediately greeted by the sound of loud music.
"And that's all from being discrete," she murmured more to herself that to Eddie, taking a look at the insides of the car.
"What do you think about my humble vehicle?" he started up a conversation, placing a black metal box on the table inside.
Stacy placed her hands on her hips, taking a quick look around the van. "Spacious," she murmured.
"Comparing to that 'lil red Chevy of yours? Without a doubt," he smirked, shaking the two plastic bags he had just took out. "Any particular wishes? Let me just warn you, I don't have your Purple Haze," he teased her.
"Anything that's not mostly Incica, really," Stacy answered, taking a few steps closer to her classmate.
"Oh, what a connoisseur," Eddie murmured. Stacy couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Is Pineapple Express fine by you, buttercup?" he asked, showing her one of the bags.
"Yeah," she let out a chuckle at the nickname she was called.
"I normally do twenty bucks for half of an ounce..." Eddie started, getting up from the small table.
"That will do," Stacy interrupted him, opening her bag to search for the bank note.
Eddie tilted his head as he glanced over her. "I was about to give you a discount," he replied bluntly.
"Then keep the change for the splendid customer service," she shrugged.
For a split second Eddie Munson thought the time froze. All he could see was Stacy Harrington, looking up at him with the most genuine smile he had ever seen a girl like her display. The rays of sun that got inside of the van through the patchy blinds illuminated the locks of her hazel hair, causing her to appear almost magical.
So magical, in fact, that he didn't hear her repeating his name over three times by now.
"Sorry. I spaced out," he admitted, shaking his head as a promise of now listening to her clearly.
"Well, I figured it out," Stacy laughed, placing the money before him. "I was asking if you have any rolling papers," she repeated, taking her share of weed.
"Oh, yeah, sure," Eddie blabbered, reaching out to the drawer on top of the seating. Without asking, Stacy sat down the moment the tissue-like paper was handed out to her. Silently exuberant by her staying a while longer, Eddie took a spot beside her, watching as she carefully began rolling the blunt. "So, tell me... since when does Little Miss Perfect smoke dope?" he asked nonchalantly.
An amused grin appeared on Stacy's face before she even got a chance to answer. It was above surprising how much she smiled during her conversation with Eddie. "Since everything took a turn for the worse," she answered evasively.
"Yeah... I expect being on top of the class is really the worst that could happened," Eddie wondered, causing Stacy to immediately look at him.
"You know shit, Munson," she whispered in a defensive tone, sending him a reprimanding stare.
"Fuck, no, I didn't mean it as an insult," he was quick to defend himself the moment he realized he worded his sentence badly. "What I wanted to say is I just can't... imagine that."
His abrupt answer made Stacy's cheeks burn. Of course she exaggerated his words. She often had a tendency to get awfully preserving when it came to people doubting her. Something, that possibly appeared in her life due to not being able to tell others about her problems. After all, Stacy Harrington wasn't a person one could relate to. From the surface she seemed like a terribly shallow person, who didn't differ much from those, whose only intention was to achieve success, no matter the costs.
"Sorry," she muttered, apologizing. "I get really articulate when I'm focused," she added, showing Eddie her perfectly rolled blunt.
And just like the tension was never there, he chuckled, taking it from her to admire it in the better light, "Look at that! And I originally thought you're just a munchkin. You're full of surprises, Miss Harrington."
Getting up and bowing dramatically, Stacy giggled, "Comes in handy."
"Well," Eddie shook his head. "All I have to tell you now is to enjoy the product," he added in the same, over the top manner.
Smiling, Stacy grabbed her bag. However, before she decided to open the van doors, she turned back, facing Eddie, who now wore quite a confused expression.
"Everything's alright? Did you forget something?" he asked her quickly, concerned for the reason of her possible upset.
"Actually, I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to smoke together," Stacy answered, watching's Eddie's eyes opening ever wider than before.
Without a word, just with a mere disbelief painted all over his face, he pointed — firstly at himself, then — at her. Not a second later he smirked, his locks covering his face, "You know what they say... don't get high on your own supply," he quoted.
"Like I'll believe you don't use your own stuff," Stacy scoffed. "Besides, you're not Tony Montana... So?"
Eddie shook his head once again, smirking to himself, "How can I refuse a girl, who's just got a Scarface reference?"
"That, my dear, is called a deal breaker," she responded, following Eddie to the front of the van.
"A hit dice," he corrected her, starting his car. "We'll drive just beside that part of the forest. Smoking on the school's parking lot is far too crazy... Even for Eddie the Freak," he explained quickly, spitting out the last part with a notion of sarcasm.
"That's quite a lofty nickname, isn't it?" Stacy asked, causing Eddie to glance at her for a spare second. "Awfully uncreative... but lofty," she corrected herself, smiling at the sounds of a song that just played on the radio.
"Lofty," Eddie repeated in a scoff, only to notice Stacy's hand traveling towards the head unit of his van. "Hey! No changing music in my car. I have full monopoly on what's playing," he stated half threateningly, half jokingly.
"Who said I was going to change it?" Stacy asked, almost like her former intentions were the clearest thing in the world.
"You weren't?"
The brunette giggled in disbelief. "I wanted to turn it up. I like this song... Dairy of a Madman is a good album in general," she admitted, watching Eddie displaying visible shock. "What?"
"You're shitting me," Eddie let out the air he was holding for definitely longer than he should. "There's no way you're listening to Ozzy Osbourne."
"Why?" Stacy asked light-heartedly as they found themselves in a more secluded area.
"Because you're... you," Eddie gesticulated vividly after stopping his car.
With a flick of her hair, Stacy got out of the van, waiting for her companion to join her as she lit up the blunt.
"I am me," she repeated his words. "Munson, you're not even high yet and you're already talking nonsense."
"Anything for you, I guess," he shrugged, inhaling their shared blunt.
"You know what?" Stacy chuckled at the sudden memory flooding her mind. "I do remember you way before high school, actually," she added, watching him scrunching his nose.
"Wasn't expecting to have a stalker. Especially not one in a form of Hawkins' pride and joy," he confessed leaning on the hood of his van.
"Yeah, I'm not sure about that joy part," Stacy chuckled, feeling an unwitting smile entering her face.
"Just look at you, buttercup. All happy and dandy." Eddie pointed at her expression.
"That's just the weed kicking in," she answered, which simultaneously was the worst idea she could possibly have, hence she choked on a huge cloud of smoke.
"Oi, here you had me thinking you were a professional," he teased her, gaining a nudge on the arm.
"Shit happens even to the best, okay?" she responded in the same tone.
A few minutes after, Stacy and Eddie found themselves sitting on the mulching ground, casually exchanging any thoughtful remarks their stimulated minds were telling them to vocalize. It was strangely calming to Stacy how the presence of a person she didn't exchange even a hello before had helped her become utterly tranquil. Of course, it was also the merit of the chemicals that now entered their bodies, however, despite being intoxicated Stacy could've concluded she wouldn't have been in such a positive state if it wasn't for the curly-haired metal head.
"So, you say you remember my little meek persona, huh?" Eddie asked, returning to the conversation they were having beforehand.
In response, Stacy's eyes wandered way above Eddie's head, landing somewhere in between of the branches.
"Yeah," she started in a dreamy tone. "Only your hair was a 'lil bit shorter," she spoke softly, catching with the corner of her eye how a smirk entered his face. "By 'lil bit I mean shittone. Like, way, way shorter. Non-existent even," she corrected herself, thinking his reaction was caused by her unclear response.
She had no idea, however, Eddie's expression was a reaction of a genuine surprise.
"You mean middle school?" He wanted to clarify and succeeded by watching her nod her head. "You're right. That buzz cut was ooglay," he agreed in an exaggerated tone.
"I never said it was ugly." Stacy crossed her arms. "Although I must say, you do look way better with your hair like that," she added, almost like she was complimenting an old friend, not a classmate she had never spoken a word with before.
"You think?" Eddie asked in a challenging tone, abruptly grabbing a handful of his locks as he covered his face with it.
She had forgotten how it felt to genuine laugh at someone's jokes. She had forgotten the feeling of excitement while discussing a certain topic. Moreover, she had forgotten how to relax.
"I like your blazer," Eddie spoke after a few minutes of silence.
"I stole it from my brother back in eight grade," Stacy disclosed, her voice lowered, almost like she was gossiping with her cheerleader friends.
"Oh, yeah, your brother..." he hummed in response, almost like he had completely forgotten about that instance. "How is he, by the way?"
"Just... you know... working," Stacy struggled to form a sentence as her glance was focused on the spot behind Eddie. "Look, I think that's a squirrel," she said confidently, pointing somewhere in front of her.
"Where?" He squinted his eyes in order to adjust his eyesight. "I don't see anything, buttercup. You're delusional," he added after a while.
"No, I'm not, Eddie! I swear that squirrel was there just a moment ago!" Stacy argued, however, not being able to stop laughing.
"Well, you surely scared it with your screaming by now... Where are you going?"
"Go through your things and look for some snacks," she replied innocently and jumped back in the vehicle.
"You won't find anything despite a few molded sandwiches!" Eddie called after her, adding to himself, "...and possibly some drugs."
Not a moment later he heard a noise of something metal hitting the ground.
"I didn't break anything!" Stacy reassured him. "Everything's under control!"
She had no idea that the last sentence would so hauntingly occupy her mind the day next.
It was a Saturday. One of the warmest one this November, actually. Her brown locks were sprawled across her back as she managed to finally unscrew the top part of the metal lid, covering the air filter. It was just around four in the evening when she returned from the mechanic with a newly bought substitute — a stark white filtering compartment, covered by silver pieces made to secure the device.
It was excruciatingly bold of her to presume she would manage to change it without anyone's help. But, with her persistent will and stupendous motivation caused by neither her father nor Steve being currently at home, Stacy Harrington gritted her teeth, calming herself down with the, "Everything's under control." In reality, however, she was silently cursing out whoever, who tightened the screws so hard, her knuckles were becoming white from trying to loosen them.
Ever since she could remember, Stacy was drawn to manual work such as preparing a volcano model for her middle school's talent show or plainly helping to fix the kitchen sink. Maybe that sudden enjoyment was the culprit of her current interest in science.
This, however, wasn't the case of today, considering the fact Stacy was now aggressively wiping off the grease she managed to get herself dirty with just a moment ago. Not being keen on smearing her Walkman with it, she rubbed the substance in her old jean shorts. Reaching just above her knees, the piece of clothing was completely out of style — something, her friends would immediately tease her about if she were to leave her house in them. To her benefit, today she could allow herself to look drastically different from usual; her hair were tied in a ponytail that already started to fell apart, the loose strands of hair making her appear like she had just rolled out of her bed. A flannel shirt she was wearing previously belonged to her father, therefore it was awfully big on her. In addition, its condition was far from satisfying. Holes in it were certainly contradicting her always-ironed shirts.
Stacy didn't expect to see anyone than her brother today. After all, their parents weren't going to be home this weekend. Therefore, she let out a loud gag of surprise the moment she heard a car pulling up. At first, she thought maybe it Steve, who ended his shift earlier. Yet she didn't even need to look up to know she was wrong — she could've flawlessly recognized the sound of his BMW engine. Then she came up with an idea someone had mistakenly driven near her house, stopping the car to ask for directions. Grabbing the hood of her car, simply to see the unexpected visitor, a grin appeared on her face the moment she noticed a van, parked just by the side of her driveway.
"Missed me already?" Stacy called teasingly.
"Sure I did, sweetheart," Eddie Munson answered. The confidence in Stacy's tone was so magnetizing, he couldn't help but smile with each step he took. "You forgot your blazer yesterday," he added, watching an expression of surprise paint all over her face.
"I did?" She asked in an over-dramatic tone, wiping her hands before taking her belongings from him. "Sorry for the trouble," she added, nodding towards the direction of his car.
"'S fine," he muttered, shoving his hands to his pockets. "It was a good excuse, though."
Stacy scrunched her nose, giggling silently, "Care to elaborate?"
"You know, just to see what Miss Hawkins does on her free time," he answered nonchalantly, glancing over her shoulder to take a look under the hood of her Chevrolet. "Again, that's the last thing I would've expected... Always thought girls like you..."
"Girls like me, huh?" Stacy smirked, interrupting him. "Is it somewhat a nice way of telling me I look like shit today?"
"Well, you look... different," Eddie responded with a shrug, yet immediately realized how his answer may have sounded. "I-It's a compliment, though," he corrected himself, vividly gesturing with one of his hands.
Stacy bursted into laughter the second she noticed how terrified his face look. Just as he was afraid to be faced with her being offended.
"No worries, I'm used to having and older brother, who insults me all of the time," she added while re-doing her ponytail.
Instead of thinking of an answer, Eddie carefully watched her every movement, captivated by the smoothness of it. He didn't know if it was the shorts with grease stains on them or her easygoing persona that caused her to appear more... reachable.
Eddie Munson wasn't a person, who took enjoyment in talking with popular kids. Quite the opposite, actually — the only times he found himself conversing with them were the short moments in the school's canteen. They mostly consisted of mutual short comments on each other differences — a response to bullying he had received ever since he could remember. It was exactly bullying that made his opinion on them unanimous, forming his approach towards them as hostile.
It was this exact fact that made him feel so off-track during those past two days. He expected Stacy Harrington to be just like the rest of her friends — mean and scary. After all he only recognized her from being a popular straight-A student, whose class he happened to find himself in when he failed his senior year. Again.
Yet, to his surprise, Stacy was standing right in front of him, laughing not at him, but because of him.
"Geez, this filter looks crusty," he commented, glancing over the already exchanged device, laying next to the red Chevrolet.
"And I was wondering why my car was making strange noises... Well, here's the culprit," Stacy chuckled, kicking the old air filter.
There was a moment of silence during which Eddie wondered if he should already leave. After all, he arrived here just to give back Stacy her blazer she left in his van while hazed by the weed they smoked yesterday. Yet, something —he couldn't exactly place what — made him want to stay just for a while longer. Purely to enjoy the presence of a girl, who caught his attention in such a peculiar way.
"How did I even manage to forget that?" Stacy laughed, pointing towards the direction of the blazer she messily threw behind the hood of the car.
"Actually, you did almost break the table inside," Eddie chuckled, watching an overly hurt expression paint on Stacy's face.
"I did not! I simply stumbled and..."
"Hey, Stace!" Both Stacy and Eddie turned towards the figure that just entered the Harrington's front yard.
"Oh, hi, Steve," the girl responded, wondering how she didn't notice her brother's car that was now parked just beside Eddie's van. "You got off duty early?" She added, suddenly feeling uneasy.
"Yeah..." Steve narrowed his eyes. "What's Munson doing here?" he asked the question that was on his mind the moment he left his car.
"I-uh, he came here to hand me my blazer," Stacy explained quickly, hoping the odd feeling of tension will leave her as soon as it appeared.
"Yup, the blazer," Eddie confirmed, sensing how strangely Stacy's persona changed as soon as she saw her brother.
"It's not drugs or anything, right?" Steve furrowed his brow even more, eyeing the curly-haired man. "Cause I swear to god, Stace, if you..."
"Jesus, why are you so weird about it?" His sister bursted out, just like she wasn't the one creating this specific atmosphere.
"Because how did he know it was yours?" Steve argued in a child-like tone, crossing his arms.
"It has your name written on the fucking tag!" Stacy replied, grabbing the clothing that previously belonged to her brother. The tag showed his name in a messy handwriting. The e's being the only letters written in lowercase.
"Yeah, of course," he snorted, shaking his head rapidly.
"Honestly, man, you need to cool down. It's not that big of a deal," Eddie inputed, however, his respond failed in resolving the strange exchange of words between the siblings. "She left it in..."
"School. In the English classroom," Stacy rapidly interrupted, not giving him a chance to finish.
"Yeah..." Eddie confirmed her lie, suddenly looking down to look at his boots that now were toying with the rocks on the driveway. "'S not like we're friends or anything. I mean, how could we? She's Miss Hawkins and I'm just your local drug dealer, right?"
It was his attempted joke that caused everything in Stacy body to stop function. Eddie was right — the two of them had completely different backgrounds. Moreover, the idea of them hanging out was one of the most abstract things one could imagine.
Yet still — his sudden change of tone, the lack of eye contact and, most importantly, the fact Stacy truly took liking to him made his answer something she couldn't bare.
But then, it hit her like a speeding train.
She couldn't object.
Not because she shared reservation towards Eddie Munson, but because she couldn't bring herself to admit her whole persona was a lie.
Had it be a streak of confidence, a mere ray of bravery that could let her be herself. That could let her be, who she truly wanted to be without caring about what others said. Without being afraid they'd exclude her.
Even if they meant her own brother right now.
Seemingly insignificant interaction put her in the most uncomfortable place she could possibly find herself in. Because agreeing on Eddie's explanation stopped being an excuse and started being the vocal factor of her inability to express her own self. A thing she couldn't come clear with from the moment she started giving doubts about her own social role.
With Steve's quiet whatever and him leaving the two alone, Stacy swallowed the gulp in her throat to prepare for apologizing to Eddie for the cumbersome instance. Yet, none of the things she wanted to say came out. Not even a single word.
Because of that, Eddie felt like he needed to be the one to break the silence that now became quite gruesome.
"Sorry... I'll stop bothering you, buttercup," he muttered, turning on his heel with an apologetic smile.
Stacy wanted to stop him. She wanted to reassure him he was not being a burden.
But instead of that, she murmured a silent bye, watching as he got into his van and drove away.
Sometimes, expectation could appear quite exorbitant. Especially when being the one that cannot bear their own cowardliness.
#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson#stranger things#joseph quinn#eddie munson death#stranger things thoughts#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x harrington!oc#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic
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— tongue tied.
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☀️ summer of spice / 1000 followers event ☀️
p o p s i c l e l i c k i n g
requested by anonymous
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pairing: albedo / fem!reader
warnings: established relationship, dirty talking, mild food play, oral (receiving)
word count: 1.5k
summary: Albedo promised you that the two of you would go and pick out some cecilias so you could pot them. but as always he had buried himself into his work and as you wait for him to finish you enjoy your strawberry popsicle. surprisingly albedo notices.
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⤿ summer of spice masterlist.
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You stare at the alchemist sitting right across from you, he was buried in his work, one hand continuously scribbled down notes while his eyes scanned the many many pages that laid before him. You sigh from the unoccupied desk you were seated upon, Albedo always hated how you preferred sitting on top of it like a madman instead of sitting on a chair. Shoving the red, strawberry popsicle back into your mouth, you savor the sweet taste as your tongue swirls around it. Pulling it out, you lick your lips and swing your feet with boredom.
“Albedoo…” you whine, heels hitting the wooden desk. “We should go out. The weather is beautiful and you need a break.”
“What I need is silence,” he grunts, not sparing you a glance. “Like I said when I finish my work we can go out.”
“You promised me we would pick cecilias…” you continue, taking another lick of your popsicle. “Might I remind you, you were the one nagging me how cecilias needed to be potted at a certain time and that it was best to do it in summer.”
“Yes yes I know.” finally he turns to you, pinching the bridge between his blonde eyebrows. “Worst case scenario we can go tomorrow.”
“Have I been waiting all day for nothing?” you cry out, genuinely feeling hurt. “You do this every time. Plus--” you notice his puffy red eyes. “Your eyes are bloodshot, you need rest.”
You hate that he never rests and you hate it even more when he makes you wait and never delivers on his promises. Most of the time you didn’t mind the wait, you enjoy watching him work. You love the way he groans and pulls on his hair when he’s staring at a particularly hard problem, you love it when he hums with delight when he manages to solve it. You love hearing him sing a soft tune under his breath when he forgets that you’re there, watching him. But sometimes, sometimes you just felt...bad. You couldn’t quite describe the feeling, it was something mixed between hurt and jealousy? Maybe?
Averting your gaze you opt to stare at your popsicle instead. Noticing the syrup starting to drip from the stick to your hand you quickly lean and lick the sugary juice away. You were left unanswered, therefore, you decide to leave to make it easier for the both of you. Albedo wouldn’t have to say no and you wouldn’t have to face rejection for the nth time.
You were quick to notice that you weren’t able to slide off of the desk like you usually did, blinking up with confusion you see Albedo standing an inch away from you. His arms trapped your body and he pushed your knees apart without you noticing. You gulp at how close he is, he smells of sweet whopper flower nectar mixed with his own cologne. The hand that holds the popsicle shakes and his teal eyes shifts to the sweet treat. You gasp as Albedo comes even closer, wrapping his lips around the popsicle and sucking on it before biting a chunk off of it. Mouth agape, your eyes were fixated. He chews, the soft crunches that reach your ears makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He swallows with a loud gulp and you’re left breathless.
“I wouldn’t say you’ve been waiting for nothing,” he says, voice low. “I don’t mind rewarding you for your patience.”
Albedo was a lot of things; honest, brilliant, handsome, a beast in bed, but he was never ever this straightforward with you. Eyes wide you close your mouth and lick your lips, your whole body shivered with the mere thought of Albedo pleasuring you. A nervous giggle parts away from your lips and you stop caring that the popsicle was melting all over your trembling fingers.
“What’s gotten into you?” you manage to ask. “Were you working on a lust potion or something?”
He chuckles, “No…” then his eyes darken and he raises an eyebrow. “It is rather hard to concentrate when you’re sucking and licking something other than my cock.”
“What?!” you choke out. “I-Is that why you’re so worked up right now?”
“Maybe,” he purrs. “Besides, I do need to rest.”
“When I said that I meant that we should go and pick some cecilias to plant-- oh.”
Albedo, taking a hold of your wrist, pulls your hand towards him as he darts his tongue out. It feels as if you can’t breathe as the warm muscle traces over your sticky fingers, lapping away the strawberry syrup that had dripped all over you. Albedo is quite thorough. He pushes the tip of his tongue between your fingers and cleans your up, then he sucks on each individual finger while gently nibbling on them. His eyes are closed and each time you push a finger deeper into his mouth a soft moan escapes his throat. You’re mesmerized, your heart is thudding loudly against your chest and your panties are soaked by the view. Swallowing, you press your thighs together as his tongue travels up from your finger to the almost-gone popsicle. With a smirk, he pops the entirety of it in his mouth and pulls back, leaving only the red stick behind.
Your eyes dart between him and the stick, you’re flustered and you feel as if your face is burning.
“What just--”
“Don’t worry I’ll get you a new one.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Albedo chuckles and before you can retaliate, his lips crash into yours. Taking advantage of your initial shock, he slips his tongue between your lips and takes in a deep breath as he deepens the kiss. Albedo tastes of strawberry and you can’t help but suck on his tongue. The stick finally falls from between your fingers and you wrap your arms around him, your fingers desperately clutching at his coat. He parts away from you, a single strand of saliva still connecting your lips, and a sheer whine rips away from your throat. Without even noticing you pull him closer, rubbing your core against his pelvis in a needt fashion. You hear him chuckle but you’re too concentrated on the friction against your cunt.
“Does my needy little girl want her reward?”
“Y-Yes,” you breathe out. “Please Albedo, I-I can’t--”
Albedo is quick to spread your legs further and lower down your pants along with your soaked panties. You expect him to do the same, afterall it was hard to fuck if he was going to keep his pants on, but much to your surprise he kneels down instead. His hot breath tickles your cunt and you can’t help but stare as he inches closer. When you feel his lips against your folds, the sensation alone almost makes you go limp.
His tongue slowly delves between your folds as his lips continue to move against them. Albedo laps up the juices and the tip of his tongue teases your aching hole. With one hand you grab his ash-blond locks and tug at them as the pleasure starts to become overwhelming. He hums and pushes his tongue deeper as his hand travels across your thigh and reaches your throbbing clit.
An obscenely loud moan leaves your lips as he rolls the sensitive nub between his delicate fingers. You see stars and your head falls back, you can almost hear him chuckle at how easily you came undone. Continuing to roll and pull your clit, Albedo starts to fuck your needy hole with his tongue. Your legs tremble around him as his name incoherently falls from your lips. Heat pools inside your core and your abused clit starts to tingle and twitch.
“‘M gonna come-- Al...ahh...bedo…”
His ministrations on your drenched cunt goes faster, Albedo rubs his fingers against your clit and he wiggles his tongue that was buried inside you. It was too much, your breath is hitched and you can’t even think not speak anymore. Nails digging into his scalp, you see white and your cunt gushes out. Your body spasms and your insides throb, Albedo’s tongue continues to move inside you as you cum, drenching his chin with your fluids.
Albedo’s lips stay on your cunt until you start to come down from your orgasm, he slowly pulls away. He’s quick to notice how out of it you are and wraps an arm around you when he sees you tremble and start to fall back. You blink as you try to focus, the first thing you see is the chief alchemist’s smug grin.
“Seems like now you’re the one who needs rest my love.”
“You’re just mean,” you mumble, nuzzling his neck. “I just wanted to pot some cecilias you jerk.”
He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.
“Promise we’ll go tomorrow.” he laughs when you groan. “How about I lay you on the couch?”
“Fine, but if we don’t go tomorrow again I swear to all the archons above--”
“Promise.”
#genshin impact x reader#albedo x reader#albedo x fem!reader#gi x reader#sin#summerofspice.2021#peach.writes#1000 followers event
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kissanime & foreplay
this is part of my netflix & chill collection !
summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k
notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!
HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜
—
The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.
The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.
And of course, Doyeon.
Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.
Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.
The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.
So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.
Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.
However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.
He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?
Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.
Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.
It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.
Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.
You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.
Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.
After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.
He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.
“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.
You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.
You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?
With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”
You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”
He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.
You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.
Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.
Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.
“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.
You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.
“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”
By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.
Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.
You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.
You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.
“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”
At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.
“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.
You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”
Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”
“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”
The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”
His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”
Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”
“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.
His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.
The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.
Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.
“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”
A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.
With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.
Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.
He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”
“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.
The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.
The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.
A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.
You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.
There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?
A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.
His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.
You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”
Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”
“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.
The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.
Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.
As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.
The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.
“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.
“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.
Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.
“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.
There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”
“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“
A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”
His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”
You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.
It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.
The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.
The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”
Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.
“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.
Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”
You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.
“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.
When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.
He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.
Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.
“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.
He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.
Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.
The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.
“Kook,” you whine childishly.
Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.
But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.
From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“
He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”
You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“
“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”
The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.
For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”
Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.
“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.
It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).
But, this moment…
The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.
It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.
Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.
It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.
“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.
He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.
“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.
Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.
You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”
He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”
You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”
He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”
With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”
His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”
You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”
Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”
You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.
Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”
“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”
“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.
He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”
You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.
“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”
“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”
“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.
—
epilogue
Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.
—
Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
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