#feeding this one anon who has been in here for ages | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops��

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai <3 ok gn

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

farmer!price & sweet little girl next door!reader (yes i’m thinking about this pairing in the most perverted way possible)

a/n: here it is. the long-awaited neighbor!price fic <3 Hopefully, you all enjoy these Price crumbs. anon is onto something ;) & thx for the dog name ideas! ⊹。°˖➴ ao3 ver. // word count: 6.9k

// warning(s); nsfw (18+), implied age gap [r is mid-twenties, price is early/mid-forties], dadbod!price agenda, oral (r.), p/v unsafe sex, fem!reader

Price is living out his recluse dreams. Retired and secluded, finally! It was more than he’d wished for, honestly. He always desired a patch of land far from town, leaving out scraps for the critters, finding the simple pleasures.

But here he was, with a small, self-sufficient farm, growing enough to feed himself. It was a quiet, rewarding lifestyle. Entirely the opposite of his years in the service. Right now, he found himself conquering his lost list of mundane tasks. Watering his herbs, then sorting the junk that accumulated in his storage shed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After a grueling afternoon of unpacking, you needed to unwind. Right now, you found yourself lounging on your deck, head tilted back as you shielded your eyes from the summer sun. As if moving and assembling furniture wasn't exhausting enough — now you had the sweltering star beating down on you.

Abruptly, you feel something soft brush against your legs. Before you can open your eyes, there's a hefty weight plunged atop your lap. Your eyes snap open, greeted with the hot breath of a smiling golden retriever.

You caress the blonde fur, receiving several licks along your hand. "Zeus! down, boy!" A husky voice shouts, followed by the face to match it. The eager, not-so-small ball of fluff hops off your lap, prancing toward the man walking around the side of your house.

A charcoal gray t-shirt hugging his buff but girthy body. A man who's been in shape for years — arms bulging and tanned from hours of working outside, all whilst his older years have caught up to him a bit on his stomach, which stuck out with just a bit of fat cushion.

"My apologies, he knows better." He rubbed his head and flashed an apologetic look, exposing the faint abs you'd already imagined on him at first glance. Price's eyes wandered you from top to bottom, nearly forgetting to unfurrow his brow.

What a sight for sore eyes, you were.

You peer down at your lap, now stained with dirt in the shape of paws — on your thighs and the shorts you're wearing. "Oh, not a big deal! he gave me quite a scare, but it was a pleasant surprise." You look over at Zeus, his tail thwacking against his owner's leg.

For a few moments, all he did was leer, before he snapped himself out of it. "John," he steps forward as if going to shake hands but retracts hastily.

"—'m all covered in dirt, wouldn't want to get you dirtier than Zeus already has, hm?" He chuckles when he finishes his rhetorical, smearing the dirt onto his denim pants.

You shake your head and chuckle gently, “no room for pleasantries in the countryside, is there?” You case his appearance again, eyes skimming his muscles.

John flashes a polite smile, muttering a reply before hooking a finger around the Golden’s red collar. “Be seeing you.” He effectively leads the sparky dog out of your yard, preventing both any more surprise attacks and more ogling on his part.

Not only was getting a new neighbor a surprise, but her being so damn tempting — an entirely different genre of awe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yesterday wasn’t your smoothest first impression. looking rugged and sweaty from unpacking, ending up covered in dirt and in awkward conversation. You wanted a second chance. He was going to be your neighbor after all — and it wasn’t like there were many others. John was the only one within reasonable walking distance, it seemed.

Now, wearing a sundress as opposed to sweat-caked shorts and a tee — you were more confident in your odds of at least being civil with your neighbor. At the very least, a man who would roll up your trash bins before a storm. Perhaps even supply a spare cup of sugar if you were being optimistic.

You trudge down the dirt road, careful not to roll your ankle on the unpredictable mounds of earth. For a few moments, you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way. It’s either dense forest, patches of crop, or more road ahead of you.

Lord knows you were exhausted yesterday, maybe the handsome neighbor was just a figment in your fried mind. A foolish thought — but one that worsened the longer you walked.

The tray in your hands; a few oatmeal dog biscuits and some cookies made from the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. It was better than coming empty-handed, wasn’t it? That would just be distasteful judgment.

With eyes glued ahead, you nearly let the handles of the platter slip when you finally spotted the lights in the distance. Golden-tinted and countless, illuminating the updated cabin. In the yard, lay a few scattered chewed ropes and muddy tennis balls. You could safely assume you made it to the suave man’s residence.

You knock on the oak door, seeing the hues of a television flickering through some of the bent blinds. After a few seconds of mumbling, the door swung open.

Price answered with a beer in one of his fists, instantly straightening his posture when he laid eyes on you. The sundress; cherry red with splotches of tiny florals. Dusk sunbeams highlighted your bone structure seamlessly — casting an ethereal glow on your captivating flesh.

Today, instead of gray, his shirt is army green and just as snug of a fit. You can't help but prolong your stare when he leans against the doorway, his bicep bulging even when he stands with nonchalance. He's even more of a knockout when not covered in dirt; though you suppose the same could be applied to you.

"This is a surprise." He glances at the tray in your hands, then at the polite smile on your face as you flash it in his direction.

With a beam, you extend the platter out and wait for him to take it. "I wasn't sure when to come. I hope I'm not intruding." You speak softly, catching a glimpse of his tidy living space.

“No such thing as intrusion around here, eh? ‘m practically searching for chores these days. A little conversation won’t bother me any.” Price chuckles a bit, flicking his head as an invitation for you to join him.

You step inside behind him, engulfed by the scent of tobacco and cedarwood. The cabin's interior walls have been stained with a warm tint, stretching throughout what bits of the space you can spot. Immediately through the front door is his kitchen, likely the most modernized of the rooms.

Distressed, truffle-colored counters in an L shape; altogether enough space for a man living alone. Yet, the countertops are anything but cluttered — nearly spotless, in fact. He slides the tray across the counter, finally unveiling the homemade treats for both human and man's best friend.

"Figured chocolate chip would be simple enough, right?" You speak up, watching him examine one of them. For a few moments, he's lost in thought again, not taking a bite.

You furrow your brows, "please don't tell me I baked the one dessert you don't like."

Instantaneously, a grin smears on his face, then a rumbly snicker. "Nothing like that," he bites the cookie in half and savors its sweetness, "—just not used to having neighbors this deep in the woods, you're my first. And she can bake too, huh? Aren't I lucky?" He teases a bit at the end, rinsing off some chocolate residue from his scarred fingertips.

Well, it was only the recipe on the back of a bag, so you surely hope it would taste decent. You decide it best to leave that out, merely twirling your thumbs as he shuffles around the space.

Finally, he walks back around the counter and holds out the same beer he sipped when he answered the door. Your reluctant fist wrapped around the brown bottle's glass neck, following him as he led you to the porch.

“Weren’t you watching something?” You question, sitting yourself beside him on the cement steps. Zeus’ collar jingle sounded once the back door closed, the sound a signal for him to join his owner out back.

John shook his head, taking another sip of the brew as his achy muscles relaxed again. “You’re doing me a favor; I could cut back on my screen time.” He reached out his free hand and gently patted the dog’s head, giving his fur a few strokes.

“Cut back? By the looks of your land, you’re outside all day.” You retort with a playful scoff, feeling the nuzzle of a wet nose along your leg. Without shame, you glance at his hands, observing their size and condition. “The callouses don’t lie.”

You piqued his interest at the mention of his hands, and he'd noticed just how long you were staring at them. "Suppose you're right, love." On purpose, he caressed the neck of the bottle with his thumb. He takes another hefty sip, which prompts you to take your first.

You didn't have the heart to tell him before how much you disliked the taste. The tangy beer coated your mouth and throat, seemingly sliding down at an agonizing pace just to prolong the torment. Still, the scrunch of your face spilled enough of the fib.

"Faces don't lie, either." Price mocked, taking the barely touched bottle from your grip. His words held double meaning — one harmless and one sinful — though that truth was unbeknownst to both of you.

In a matter of seconds, you'd been caught in a petty lie. You wipe away the bit that dripped between your lips. "Guess you caught me," you chortle, "I don't like beer much."

"Much? Don't be so modest." He screws the top back on and sets it on the wooden deck beside him. "You hate it, don't you?"

The way he spoke had you in some sort of trance. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was his obvious past of influence. It was... like being interrogated. Not in the pathetic way an inexperienced civilian would mock his way through, either. The agitation of being put on the spot — feeling as though you'd done something illegal the second you approach airport security.

That is what this felt like; only the words came tender and sportive.

“Alright, I hate it.” You affirm, unable to wipe the simper off your face. “We’ve officially made it through our first lie. That’s a milestone, right? Saves us the sting later.” Unintentionally, you haven’t broken your stare — even when he did to gaze at the sunset in front of him.

Later? Would this company become a routine? How wrong was it for him to hope it would?

Eventually, he nods and turns to face you again, shamelessly taking you in like it was the first time. “Ah, you’re like me. Ten steps ahead, got everything planned out already.” He questions, squinting slightly from the bright dusk, which was actively being snuffed by storm clouds. "Besides, I could tell your lie from miles away. The way you fumbled that bottle."

You waved a flustered hand of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. Point taken. I'll remember that next time."

John cocked a brow, "next time, eh? With no more fibbing?" He asked you jovially, once again putting you under his spotlight.

But this time you knew how to handle it. Besides, you had learned his ways of meaningless banter — despite only spending several minutes with the man. "Next time I'll make sure it's not so obvious, and you'll be none the wiser."

"It was more than how I held the bottle," you added accusingly. "You don't just afford a place like this with retirement savings. Not without sacrifices."

He was more than someone who once had a mundane, meaningless job. You could tell it from 'miles away' he was a man who had stories to tell. More than his scarred body already did, that was. A fierce career, a position of power — something cutthroat, literally.

Of course, you had no intention of prying. Screwing this relationship up prematurely would be a grave mistake.

Fortunately, he remained untouched by your suspicions; they intrigued him. And John, he knew you weren't wrong about him, either. He was one of the few souls who could confidently declare he'd seen it all — or the closest thing to it.

"Sacrifices... is a way to put it," his lips curled into a polite smile. Finally, he stopped staring holes into you and caught a whiff of musky petrichor in the air. "C'mon, we're due for rain. Get you inside before the mosquitos feast on us."

The same lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle to recall Zeus. He transformed from a blond dot in the distance into a prancing canine at the speed of light, slowing to a prance when he laid eyes on his owner.

With one hand, he held both bottlenecks between his thick fingers, then opened the back door with the other. Zeus nudged your legs and walked through them, determined to get inside first. The sight made you snicker as you walked inside, hearing the soft creak of the door behind you.

His work boots thudded against the wooden floor as he took them off, setting them neatly beside the door. Yet another unusual trait for men his age living alone, at least in your experience. No clutter in sight, and no grime residue from his tireless yard work.

Now, his steps are a glide instead of thuds when he walks around the breakfast bar. You turned to face him, watching as he ignited a burner for the kettle. "Do you fancy drinking something you'll actually enjoy? Tea?"

You lean against the island, unintentionally allowing a bit of the dress neckline to droop.

“Tea will work.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In front of you were the only signs of his old self. Metals and ribbons encased behind a glass frame, hung up in the hall as a quaint display of his achievements. Below them, on the hall table, decorative mason jars; most with faux leaves and vines. You made your way up and down, admiring how the rustic, shipshape decor was placed with such intention.

As your gaze panned left to right, you made it to the end of the display. Interest arose when you examined the last jar; a small mason with a bullet inside, littered with indents and some bits chipped away. Your mind swirled with scenarios as you put together the story told in front of you. A career so intense, so all-important; it was difficult to imagine the man in the kitchen enmeshed in one.

In the distance, the kettle whistles, effectively ripping you from your peering. Before he can shout for you, you’ve walked around the corner, ready to claim a drink your mouth will savor.

“Here you are.” Across the marble countertop, Price slid forward the mug.

A green tea of sorts, with a bit of cream on top and a dust of cinnamon. The presentation is nowhere near seamless, with its lopsided spoonful of foam and granules that ended up sprinkled unevenly through his fingers. Still, there was nothing wrong with a drink that looked homemade.

“Matcha?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the mug, then using your supporting hand to hold the small plate it’s resting on.

Price glances at the tea box through the frosted glass cabinets then nods. When he presses his own mug to his lips, the tea is ebony and swirling like a cyclone from the sugar he mixed in.

From the corner of your eye, you skim past him and gaze out the window overlooking the deep copper sink. Through its rectangular pane, you see the string of herbs and leaves grown — well-tended and used often in his cooking, surely.

You point a free finger towards the fresh greens outside, “do you grow it?”

He lets out a rumbly chuckle and shakes his head, “if I could. Matcha plants are loads of work.” You now spot the pasty green box poking through the cabinet, which you hadn’t noticed when too occupied with the herb planters.

You mutter a ‘hm’ in response and raise the porcelain rim to your lips, feeling the steam scald the tip of your nose and Cupid's bow. The vegetal fragrance of the green tea soothes your senses — just before the spice of cinnamon gives them a right hook.

To keep your eyes from tearing, you close them and take your first sip. It’s thicker than you anticipated, coating your mouth and throat as you swallow, yet the taste is pleasant and earthy.

Whatever John had done to prepare it, he did it correctly. That much you could tell.

Before your throat can sizzle with aftertaste, the cold foam dollop calms it. From grassy, fresh matcha to a striking sweet cream.

“You have a bit…” Price motions to his mouth, an index pointed toward the left corner of his mouth. The cream is too airy for you to notice any accidental residue. You’ve missed the swear twice before he sighs and raises a crumpled napkin to your lips.

You meet gazes while he dabs at your bottom lip, feeling any confidence seep from you in an instant.

The sweet aroma fleeted instantly with the proximity, now with your nostrils flooded with his fragrance. Smokey and masculine; something rum-adjacent, mixed sinfully with cedarwood and the earthy smell of crisp soil. And then, lastly, there are the pungent remnants of his minty mouthwash, which is slightly diluted by the black tea he swallowed.

This close, you can trace every wrinkle and line with your eyes. While you’re engulfed in his presence, he’s observing. Smothered and suffocating with the weight of diminishing continence. The vermillion sundress, the tray of goodies in the corner of his vision, the twitch of your lips as he dabs and drags with the linen.

Price has yet to notice his other hand, grabbing the tip of your chin with a feather-like hold.

But you have, blinking rapidly a few times while the chalky foam is rid of your mouth, which might as well have been thrown in the trash along with the napkin — because you’ve turned reticent.

“There.” He whispers, mouth curling into a polite glow.

Ultimately, your haze falters. Your senses unfreeze when you’re no longer swarmed by his aroma, or his tender touch when he walks back around the breakfast bar. Warmth coaxes your fingers, still emanating from the tea snug in your grip — even after the milky olive-tinted liquid has gone tepid.

With a perpetually widened gaze, you raised your mug to finish off the rest of your tea. This neighborly visit had played out differently than you expected. You savored about half of the lukewarm brew, letting it mellow the pining that arose when he got close. Sweaty fingers fumbled around the handle when you tipped the cup again, sending a gush of tea down the front of your outfit. The fabric stained instantaneously as the warmth soaked in, whilst the sugary cream made the dress cling in an unsavory, sticky fashion.

You cursed audibly and darted your gaze towards him apologetically, setting the mug down with a clammer. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling an ocean’s wave of dishonor pummel through you at once.

John, who was mid-cleanup, jerked his head to the side when he heard the commotion. When greeted with the frazzled expression, he made an effort to soothe it. It wasn’t your fault; it was only some overpriced, boxed infusion that had collected dust in the back of his cabinet.

Besides, you were in front of him, now in soaked clothing and apologizing profusely.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us.” That damn smile again. The wrinkles around his eyes, the almost all-knowing look of understanding in them.

He fisted your discarded mug, turning on the sink.

“The washroom is down the hall, in my room. It has a better mirror than the half.” Price wavers through his instructions, overcome with his own helping of uncertainty. Nothing had gone explicitly wrong, per se, but it didn’t mean they went right. But they never do, do they? There’s a reason he decided on a life of recluse, even more, a reason for him to befriend seclusion so closely.

Your footsteps retreated down the hall, passing the picture frames and decor you had been admiring moments ago. John scrubbed both mugs until they were full of suds and then rinsed, placing them on the dish rack afterward. He made it a habit to never leave used dishes to sit in the sink.

Quickly, he walked through the open door of his bedroom. Golden beams peeked out from the gap under the door, where you were frantically blotting the stains. He pulled the string on his bedside lamp, illuminating a majority of the moody, rustic bedroom. His fingers hooked around the handle, gently sliding open the pocket doors of his closet.

His t-shirts hung neatly on the left wall, whilst his fewer button-ups remained on the opposite. With a quick hum, he took hold of his baggiest navy blue tee, draping it over his forearm. From inside his dresser, he grabbed a pair of sweats that were tight on him — enough to prevent them from slipping down your legs.

Inside the bathroom, you alternated between being hunched over the counter in embarrassment, to rubbing your dress profusely. The damp washcloth was doing little to the fabric, which was a few shades darker from the liquid, compressing tighter against you. It wasn’t a flattering look, nor was it a comfortable fit anymore. Akin to the feeling of maple syrup residue on your hands after breakfast, only it was covering the front of your body.

Would it have been better to spill on his authentic wood floors? Was it completely selfish to prefer it, to spare the discomfort of a soaked garment?

Two subdued knocks on the door halted your useless wiping. “I have some clothes.” The gruff voice spoke through the door, yet remained as placid as it was in the kitchen.

“Oh, no need,” you replied dismissively through the door. “I can change at home.” You tossed the wet towel into the small hamper. When you opened the door, Price remained standing there, fresh clothing in hand.

The thought was there, and now were the actions to go along. You didn’t want to change at home or be walking down that dirt avenue at all. At this hour, home would be lonesome and still, regardless of whether your new neighbor was fanciable or not.

But he was; that made him all the harder to decline.

Void of any attempt on John’s part, his gaze scanned the mess that covered you. This time, more obvious than he would’ve liked. It felt wrong; downright distasteful and discouraging, to do so.

Howbeit, he did — and you sensed it this time. The unavoidable gawking at your snug gown, devouring his dwindling abstinence. No unease, imminence, or desire to dismiss yourself ever came. Not like it did with men on the street, who resembled that of depraved, hungry hounds.

John wasn’t corrupted; behind the lust, there was something more, something too complex to daydream.

“Nonsense.” He persisted, the clothes remaining outstretched. “It’s raining. And you’ve got to walk quite a way, don’t you?”

You leaned your head against the thick wood of the door, unable to spit out another worthy excuse. “Thank you. Really.” With a nod, you took the folded clothing, setting the pieces on the countertop beside you. As he accepted your answer and turned on his heels, you mustered the gut to speak again.

“And, John?” You stepped through the threshold of the door, “if I go home in these clothes, you probably won’t get them back.”

“I’ll keep the dish, then.” This time, he didn’t back away after stepping closer. “Do we have a deal?” His breathing picked up subtly but was noticeable against your face. When faced with his proximity before, you fumbled a mug. But now, you were certain of every ache and desire troubling you.

Whoever leaned in first became a fleeting afterthought. It didn’t matter, not while your mouths and noses clashed together. He was the first to give way, to tilt his head to relieve the pressure on your nose, which allowed him more mobility.

Your knees nearly buckled when his hands cupped your cheeks — how the calloused prints of his fingers felt against the opposing texture of your face. It felt natural; a relief to every urge you’ve stifled from the moment he answered his door.

Before you broke away for air, he removed his lips while still maintaining his tender hold on your face.

“Are you sure about this…?” Price posed, pressing his forehead against yours. You exchanged each other's exhales, cloaking your racing thoughts with a suffocating, dizzy effect.

Still, regardless of your thundering heartbeat and draining lungs — you uttered the quickest yes of your lifetime. This time, you turned your head when lips and teeth clashed, back colliding with the door. Your lips parted as you panted, letting his tongue swipe along your lips, leaving them saturated. His beard audibly scraped against your jaw and down your neck, producing goosebumps as you shivered.

Though his movements weren’t theatrical or jaw-dropping, they left you unable to lose focus. His hands wrapped around the sleeves of the ruined gown, rolling the fabric down while he dropped into a kneel before you.

A need to provide, to satisfy, to satiate. No teases, no dramatics; just utter experience. The only terms you would associate with him currently.

The clingy fabric peeled off like a sticky bandage, peeling to expose the damn stain from cleavage to your pelvis. John’s briefly raised to suckle between your breasts, cleaning off every drop of the tea that had soaked through the discarded dress. Down; sternum to belly button, savoring the small remnants of the sweet cream.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips pressed to your lower stomach. His hands moved and kneaded your hips in worship. Despite his face hovering in front of your panties, and how he was actively trailing kisses along your thighs — his voice never changed. Not cloaked with blind lust or hesitation.

Admiration, purely; for you, maybe only your body. But you didn’t care about that — or couldn’t — right now. John was utterly too much, From light conversation to huddling in the restroom, then to being backed against the door. One hand rested on your lower stomach, as a means of keeping your back against the door. The other rolled your undergarments down at a sluggish pace, beard and lips following the falling undies.

Your neck craned down, seeing them fall to your ankles, shortly before the cold breeze hit your exposed core — emanating from the bathroom window left slightly ajar. The muscles in your thighs tense when Price’s tongue finally makes brief contact with it, blown pupils still staring up at you.

His tongue lay flat against your clit for a few moments until saliva rolled down his tongue, allowing him to delve deeper. Further on, he would kiss and suckle on the bundle of nerves, and you were sure your grip on the knob couldn’t have been firmer. Experience truly was the right word to describe him, earlier and now more than ever.

Along your slit, he plunged inside, growly breaths vibrating against your sensitivity. Your taste coated his mouth, and your natural scent drove him mad; like no other partner he’d had before.

“Wanna feel you—” Price slurped again, then pulled away to finish, “—clench around my fingers. You want that, sweetheart?” His tongue glistened under the spotty lighting, his buff chest still heavy. He was goddamn distracting in this state, more than he was before.

After a flash of muteness, you nodded your head. As if you could pass up that offer; if it was an offer at all.

True to his word and the desires racing through his head, John slipped his middle finger inside your entrance. Instantly, the appendage glided against the soaked, puffy walls of your cunt, causing him to chuckle with satisfaction.

Even the smallest pump forced a whine from your lips, though you were unsure what you should be pleading for. Tonight, this feeling was already unsurpassed.

“Another, huh? Can’t fuckin’ say no to you, can I?” Next entered his ring finger, the thick digits stretching you out delectably, in ways you could only dream of executing with your own two fingers.

His name slipped out when he curled them against your sweet spot, daring your knees to buckle and send both of you tumbling. His eerily observant nature had him anticipating the sudden weakness, and his other hand holding you in place never once faltered. Finding his shaggy hair, your fingers intertwined with the locks, purely to be holding onto anything of his when you inevitably come undone.

Back to slobbering, his tongue ran laps against your swollen clit, the tip of his nose knocking against it with every pass. Each flick, each thrust making your back arch wildly against the door. And once again, as he anticipated, you ended up clenching around his fingers like he wanted.

So tense, it was any wonder Price was able to keep moving his fingers. His erection pressed against his thigh, the tight denim making him resist the urge to squirm. Oh, how you sounded, how you felt. His years of stamina and strength training will surely be tested once it’s his cock filling you up instead.

The nub throbbed and visibly pulsed when he combined a well-timed lick and curl all at once, plunging you off that cliff of release. Around his head, your thighs clamped tighter than the fingers digging into his scalp. It was clear you’d be reeling this feeling for days to come, probably a climax to forever be unbeaten during your life.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, your lungs exhausted and working overtime as you sucked in desperate breaths. “Fuck— that was…” You breathed, unable to articulate any one of the feelings assaulting your system.

The leer tugging at the corners of his soaked mouth wasn’t smug, it was pleased; pleasantly. Slowly, he raised himself, holding each side of your face. Price slurred, “You sound lovely when you cum, y’know that?” Before you could lift a finger to answer again, his dangerous tongue swirled around yours, spreading the taste of yourself against your taste buds.

Your sticky inner thighs glided when he blindly led you out of the threshold, collapsing atop you. The frame creaked under the weight of both of you, the mattress now with a crater in the center of it.

“Want you to fuck me, John. Please.” You pleaded between kisses, unconsciously wrapping a leg around his waist for any friction on the mess he caused. The sensitive tip of his cock ached, despite only being rocked against through the thick denim.

As if your sounds of pleasure weren’t divine enough, that fucking word was. Please. So desperate, so distraught. If he had the restraint or the patience, Price might coax a few more begs out of you — but those were the two things he didn’t have currently.

Briefly, his touches ceased when he leaned back. Swiftly unbuckling his belt, he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside; discarded, now the only clutter in the bedroom. Soaked through his grey briefs, a stain of pre-cum, merely proving how badly he needed you. The same as his jeans, he rid himself of them, erection upright and freed.

Girthy and curved upward a hair, capable of reaching deeper than his fingers. Down his happy trail, which you got a peak of during the first encounter, were his trimmed pubes. The same shade of brown as the hair littering his chest. You examined further, spotting a few prominent veins bound to drive you mad.

Any longer without it, and you were willing to start pawing at him. The stars must’ve been aligned, because pleading wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Spread your legs f’me.” You did, as swiftly as he uttered the command. As wide as comfortable, you exposed the mess of your pussy to him, reflecting off the cool moonlight peaking through his blinds. Glistening and twitching from the first climax, remnants still left around your inner thighs. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you proper, hm? Have you clenching around me?”

As if his fingers weren’t euphoric enough. Gnawing on your bottom lip until it ached, you nodded your head eagerly, hooking an arm around your leg to keep the shaky limb steady.

Price gripped the base of his cock, guiding it toward your entrance. The tip slipped in as smooth as honey, coated in slick and strings of his saliva leftover. With a drenched glide, the rest of him dipped inside, until his pelvis was against yours.

Entirely crammed inside, your head lolled back against the comforter, reeling in the painless stretch of his girth. And how, before the movements began, the natural curve of his cock had him snug against your cervix, kissing all the right places within you. Your fingers trailed downward, beginning to rub circles around your responsive clit, the wet clicks combining with the squelch of his thrusts.

Whatever noises came from you were all-natural and uncontrollable, from a sensual place within you never trespassed. John grunted with every tighten around his length, pumping deeply and with more force. His thoughts earlier rang true, how little restraint you left him with. Already, he could’ve finished inside of you — just from the view of your body alone.

Breasts bouncing, hips jiggling, the sounds of your soaked core, the expression on your face as he got rougher. “Such a good girl, takin’ every inch of me,” his words came out grunts, matching the pace of his jabs.

“You’ll cum for me again, and let me hear those bloody sounds, won’t you? Fuckin’ touching yourself, all needy.” For him, the words acted as a distraction until you came undone for a second time. For you, it enhances your stimulation tenfold — his voice was like nectar, yet it rumbled through the room like thunder.

It mixed with the real thunder outside, which you caught bits of between everything. The rain he said the area was due for, faintly coming down in the distance, and surely headed this way by the time your legs shook.

With a soft nudge, he shimmied closer between your thighs, chest inches from yours, and allowed him to slam against your cervix. Your fingers had gone erratic, desperately teasing the bundle of nerves the closer you got to release.

And John, sure of this, allowed himself to focus on a fraction of his pleasure. You twitched around his length, swallowing every last inch of him. Arousal dribbled from you to the bed, soaking into the navy blue duvet.

When the coil of pleasure began bursting at the seams, his name slipped out again, in between your gasps for oxygen. How his thrusts had turned as sloppy as your fingers, every jerk of his pelvis knocking the wind out of you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, feet hooking under his backside to keep him locked in — as if the thought of stopping had ever crossed his mind.

Thighs quivering like your fingers were, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his flesh. Yet another string of moans poured out of you, which tipped John over the edge same edge you’d tumbled off twice. His balls contracted while they drained, strings of pearly cum painting you on the inside.

Warmth filled you, from your tummy to your core, his length swimming in his own sloppy release. Your constricted ab muscles slowly eased up as the aftermath of orgasm faded, leaving you breathless and spent. His agape mouth dipped down as he withdrew his softening cock from you slowly, careful to not leave you any more sensitive than you already were.

The kiss distracted you and served as a reminder of what this hookup meant. Not regretful, not meaningless. Something lingered in the air, beyond the smell of sweat and sex.

Though his body begged to collapse atop you and fall fast asleep, you deserved to be taken care of. Price planted a parting kiss on your jaw, making the short trip to the bathroom to grab one of his fresh washcloths.

Silently, you observed his tenderness take over — even though it never left him. With a few featherlike swipes, he wiped away the messy aftermath of arousal, saliva, and cum, disposing of the used towel somewhere in the darkness.

You fought to stay awake, feeling his weight sink beside you once more after some squirming around. Eventually, John successfully got you and himself under the thick comforter, weighted and radiating as much warmth as your bodies. An arm snaked under your head, your back against his chest. The other arm around your waist, keeping you right up against his soft body.

He waited until he saw the rise and fall of your frame, the faint breaths of deep sleep before he decided that was permission enough to do the same.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Insects chirped loudly, enough to stir you awake.

Fresh morning light peaked through the blinds, which had been opened. Through your twitching lids, the intensity made your face scrunch. One hand reached up and rubbed them, while the other palmed beside you.

No sign of your neighbor, if he can have that title after last night.

His side had gone cold, and anything that was askew had been picked up or set back in place. Sitting yourself up, you groaned from hunger and the soreness in your legs. Beside the dresser, were the sweatpants and t-shirt he was going to lend you yesterday. Still neatly folded, placed with care on one of his leather armchairs.

You peeled the comforter off your sticky skin, coated with a layer of sweat from the sunlight on you. Usually overheating would’ve had you lying awake and sizzling, but it was clear that Price had thoroughly tired you out.

In addition to the shirt and pants, he provided a clean pair of boxers — since the ones you came over wearing had been long soiled. And nowhere to be found in the bathroom, where you made your best effort to fix up your appearance.

Aside from the sounds of nature, there was the hum of an appliance when you opened the bedroom door. Down the hall, you passed the dryer; the root of the tumbling sound. Through the small window, was your cherry sundress and underwear, half dry and spinning in circles.

Your bare feet adjusted to the cold wood, taking small, sleepy strides down the hall.

Into the living room, you laid eyes on the shelves around his television. Since you spent most of the visit on the porch, in the kitchen, and obviously the bedroom, you hadn’t had time to inspect this area closely.

Custom-built shelves frame the television. Rustic, meticulous decor placed on them. Some were store-bought, others looked to be souvenirs and memories. Stepping closer, you spotted a few framed photos; four soldiers, with Sharpie written on the corner: 1-4-1.

On the bright side, there is one mystery solved about his past. Military, or SAS, which you spot on their patches. Shuffling along, your gaze sets on the next section. More medals and ribbons, each most likely with their own significance.

Most notably, a plaque displaying his full name and title: Capt. Jonathan Price.

Another mystery solved. Why he had been so observant, so skilled at asking his questions. It all began to make sense, especially the closer you examined the relics. With a slight hm, you decided it best to stop snooping on the man’s possessions and continue your search for him.

No sign of Zeus in the house either, which isn’t shocking since he’s practically sewn to John’s hip.

Through the kitchen you go, finally picking up on the faint voice outside. Through the window overlooking the copper sink, you see Price tending to the herbs you pointed out the previous day, seemingly making conversation with his canine.

You continue on, opening the creaky patio door and shutting it behind you. You walk along the stained wood deck, rounding the corner. He’s in the middle of kneeling down, meticulously planting another herb or seasoning for his mini-garden.

“Looking good, Captain.” You startle him slightly, leaning a shoulder against the paneling of the cabin.

Price’s head perks up, snapping to the side at the sudden sound. And Zeus predictably treks over for your undivided attention, and you’re unable to refuse. The golden walks beside you when you approach further, and John gets to his feet with a small grunt.

“Snooping again, are we?” His lips curl into a harmless smile, dirt-covered fingers playing with the backs of your hands.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to conceal the feelings of fluster. Being put on the spot was something you’d have to get used to, that’s for sure. “Maybe I was. Just a little bit.”

“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice molds into that of a superior, which you hadn’t heard from him yet. Was it twisted how much it excites you? Price continued, “or I might have you calling me Captain from here on.”

With a light scoff, you muster the last bits of confidence left in you.

“Is that a promise?”

♡‧₊˚✧˖° divider cred. - cafekitsune

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #john price headcanons #price headcanons #captain price headcanons #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #price x you #captain price x you #john price x y/n

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wheresarizona · 5 months ago

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Thunder (only happens when it’s rainin’)

summary: In the middle of the night, during a bad thunderstorm, Javier helps you through a fear-induced panic attack.

rating: T (Javier POV, age gap (about ten years), Husband Javier Peña, panic attack (physical descriptions only), emotional hurt/comfort, Javier calming you down, thunderstorm, banter, domestic fluff, suggestive mention of Javier’s dick, Javier offering to help you fall back asleep by either reading you The Fellowship of the Ring or a smutty book)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse—in LTL, it takes place a few months after their wedding. This one goes out to the anon who asked how Javi would help Cielito through a panic attack. He’d use this method or a variation of it any time she has a panic/anxiety attack. This is unbeta’d; all mistakes are my own.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Laredo, Texas - April, 1999

The window-shaking boom of thunder isn’t what has Javier jolting awake in bed and bolting upright to turn on his bedside lamp. It’s the blood-curdling scream beside him that’s like a shot of adrenaline with how it wakes him from the dead of sleep with his heart pounding and has him blearily looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of danger.

Their bedroom door is still closed, and there are no intruders; rain can be heard battering against their windows, and when he focuses on his wife next to him, she’s also sitting up, worry cutting through him at how her breaths are coming out too fast and shallow as she hyperventilates, and tears stain her cheeks—she’s having a panic attack, triggered by the storm. Where she grew up, it rains the majority of the year, but they don’t have many thunderstorms, unlike right now when it’s Spring in Texas and severe weather season—it’s not the storms that scare her; it’s the loud noise that gets her.

He’s scooting closer to her, pressing his big palm to her shirt-covered back, rubbing little circles, his voice husky and soft as he says, “We’re okay, Cielito—you’re okay.” Javier reaches with his other hand to take her smaller one into his, putting it on his bare chest over his heart where he knows she can feel it thudding. “Focus on me, baby—look at me.” Her head turns his way, and he’s met with panicked eyes and glistening cheeks. “Feel my heartbeat. You feel how it’s beating?” She’s still breathing too fast. “Focus on the beat—you feel it?” he asks again, and she looks at their hands. “Thud, thud, thud…” he repeats at the same rhythm of his heart.

The therapist he’s been seeing for a while now taught him some techniques for when he has his occasional panic attacks, and right now, he’s trying to help ground her.

“See,” he says. “I’m right here, baby—you’re okay. I promise we’re gonna get through this. What are five things you can see?”

“You,” she answers between heavy breaths.

“There’s one.”

“Hand...” Her eyes move down. “Blanket…” Her head turns toward their bedroom door. “Door… Dresser...”

“That’s it, Cielito.” He’s still rubbing her back reassuringly. “Tell me four things you can hear.”

“You…” she says. “Fan…” Their small fan on his dresser by the door they use for white noise at night. “Rain…” Thunder rumbles in the distance, and her body tenses, a small whimper leaving her, and Javier’s hand on her back moves to hug her against him. She whispers, “Thunder…”

“It’s moving away, baby,” he tells her. “Sounds like it just passed by. You’re doing so good for me—name three things you can touch.” She’s beginning to calm down, her breathing is slowing.

“You…” There’s movement under the sheets of her wiggling her feet. “Blankets… Me.”

“Good.” He kisses the side of her head. “What are two things you can smell?”

“You… Candle…” They had a vanilla-scented candle burning before they went to bed.

Her breaths even out, and he knows she’s focused on him based on her answers.

“There we go.” The following crack of thunder is so quiet that it’s barely heard over the rain outside and the whirring of their fan. “I think the worst of it is over—tell me one thing you can taste.”

He’s sitting close enough to her that the sides of their bodies are touching. He’s got one arm around her back, keeping her against him, and his other hand still holding hers over his heart.

Her face turns his way, and she lightly bites his shoulder, speaking with her mouth open, “You.”

Yeah, she’s calmed. He smiles.

“Do I taste good, mi amor (my love)?”

She’s still biting him. “Yes.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall back asleep?”

Her mouth finally leaves him, and she meets his gaze, her eyes rounded. “Can I lay on your chest while you read to me?”

Something she enjoys and relaxes her.

He leans in to kiss her tenderly and asks against her lips, “Fellowship of the Ring—” What he’s currently re-reading for probably the thirtieth time. “—or whatever that book is you were reading last night that got you so hot and bothered you begged for my dick?”

She broke away to look at him once more, and he let go of her hand to use his thumb to wipe away the remnants of the tears from her cheek.

“As great as it’d be to have you narrate my smut,” she replies, “it’s gotta be Lord of the Rings ‘cause I am so fucking tired, like so tired, and queasy—I think I’m getting whatever that bug is that’s going around the hospital—" She’s a nurse at the local hospital. “—and I really don’t appreciate the stupid thunderstorm interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Her answer makes him frown, and he presses the back of his fingers to her forehead.

“You don’t feel warm…” he says. That doesn’t mean she isn’t coming down with something. “I’ll stop by the store on my way home tomorrow and pick up stuff to make you caldo.” The soup his mom always made when he or his dad were sick.

“That’d be nice, but,” she emphasizes, “food has been pretty hit or miss over the last week, so if it makes me puke, I swear on my ABBA Souper Trouper record—” Her favorite and most prized that she’s had since its release in 1980. “—it has nothing to do with your mother’s recipe and is just whatever the fuck this sickness is.”

“I know, baby,” he replies and kisses her forehead. “Let me fix the pillows, and I’ll read to you.”

When he starts to move, her hand quickly grabs his arm to stop him, and he turns his attention back to her.

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“Thank you for calming me down.” Her eyes dart away. “Texas summers are literally hell, but for all of the years I lived in Dallas before coming here, I hated Spring the most because of the storms—what I’m saying is this isn’t the first time thunder has woken me up in the middle of the night and caused me to freak out.” The thought of her alone and scared makes his chest ache, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could’ve been there with her. “It’s happened before,” she continues, “and I always had to ride it out on my own. So, thank you for being here and helping me. Don’t get me wrong, it majorly sucked, but it was nice not having to go through it alone.”

He caresses her cheek to make her look at him, and he smiles. “I can promise you, you’ll never have to go through it alone again. I’ll always be here to help you, just like how you’re always there when my brain’s being an asshole because I love you, Cielito.”

She matches his look. “I love you, too, Javi.” She quickly pecked him on the lips. “Three months, and you continue to reign supreme as Husband of the Year.”

“And am I living up to my other title?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Which one? ‘Cause Sexiest Man Alive, yes, you��ve got ‘99 in the bag. God of Sex, also yes, and I remain your devoted devotee. And you’re definitely living up to being the Hunkiest Hunk to Ever Hunk; no one will ever be able to out-hunk you, babe.”

“Good.”

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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autisticempathydaemon · 9 months ago

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Hello... again! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content and my first recommendation post of magnificent fan-artists and fan-writers wasn't enough dopamine for you?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got even more hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list, as I have biases and favorites and limited time. If you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August 2022 and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@agentplutonium: they/them

Pluto is just one of the many gorgeous people who've migrated to Tumblr now that Twitter is, ya know, on fire. I've been following them on Tiktok for ages, and I'm so pleased they joined us on tumblr now! Highlights: "Constant" and "Inconvenience" mean the world to me, because there are just not enough aspec headcanons in the fandom, we could always have more.

@angelicaether: they/them

Aether is a fucking gem unto this fandom- not only do they run Sky Side, a friendly, closeknit (hehe) server for 21+ Redacted fans but they also were who we have to thank for Redacted Kinktober 2023, bless them~ Highlights: New Job Posting is magnificent if you’re in the mood for some David/Angel smut today and this cute couple crossover fic if you’re feeling more SFW!

@caelumsnuff: they/them

Phoenix is magnificent, creative, and endlessly sweet. I also respect the hell out of anyone that can take the anon hate that they get with as much grace and attitude as they do /gen /pos Highlights: I love this gift for the Quinn-fuckers they wrote, I do, but I have to admit I'm partial to the Imperium!Vincent/Imperium!Asher piece they did, because their tension and hatred was just too palpable to deny, I needed it.

@empydoc: any pronouns

Empy's Soul Eater AU has not only taken over my life but has also got me deeply wanted a Soul Eater rewatch. God forbid xe succeed because this post has already been delayed enough /j Highlights: I love the Marcus/Asset post, because that's my favorite pairing but also because Asset as both an android and a weapon is so, so interesting. Blake/Bestie's is also a particular gem, because being a meister just gives him a new dimension to his manipulation and I love it.

@floofdeloop: she/her

Not only is Floof a beloved fic writer but she's also one of the adored DJs of the fandom. Are you really a fan if you haven't looked up Redacted on Spotify and saved all her playlists? /j Highlights: Her whole playlist page is literally so good, but I love the cute, domestic vibes of this Geordi one or the tragic, angsty, Britrock vibes of this Porter playlist~!

@joshusten: they/them

Sten is one of if not the writer that comes to mind when you're looking for amazing Guy/Honey content! Highlights: Bitter Melon is my personal favorite of their work; what can I say? I'm a sucker for a little jealousy in my fics. You also can't miss Honeysuckle, their most recent piece which gets into Guy's canonically less-than-pure mind~

@pinksparkl: she/her

Gosh, where would we be without her? Pink never has a bad word or thought for anyone and just persists in being a delightful, sweet presence in the fandom. Highlight: I can't decide what I'm more obsessed with- their Adam-centric fic exploring the Progeny/Maker bond or their nsfw Gavin-centric with his tail exploring Freelancer nudge nudge wink wink

@redlikeredacted: they/them

Just as their blog says, they are the CEO of Dasher. In my head, they are the president of both the David/Asher and the Autistic!David fan clubs, and I'd vote for them a second and third term okay I love Red Highlights: Their "David bottoming for the first time" fic is everything to me okay I am here for nothing but this except maybe this Milo fic where he gets Aggro~

@teafairywithabook: she/they

A lovely writer, voice actor, and person, Cheri does it all! With a whole 34 Redacted works on AO3, they are a must-follow. Highlights: I'll provide the masterlist of previously mentioned works, but I must recommend her nsfw Avior/Starlight fic keeping us sated until we finally get an Avior BA and their fic of Alexis's POV of Sam's turning I couldn't not okay I'm just a person I have biases

@tepid-judas: he/they/it

My favorite Adam stan, my friend, and the person who converted me into an Adam/Brighteyes shipper, I thank Judas every day for that. Highlights: I love their series of epistolary fics, because who doesn’t love a good letter, but I would be remiss if I didn’t rec his DAMN polycule plus Xavier fic cause fuck canon let's add frosty the snowman to the orgy /lh

@themonotonysyndrome: she/her

Lady, my dearest friend and greatest foe~ How else do I describe the gorgeous, sociable, friendly person who bought Alexis/Christian into the world and ruined my life? (affectionate) Highlights: Let these two assholes in love take you on a ride, fall in love with them too. If that's not your vibe, I cannot recommend enough her insane, gen z Bright Eyes being an absolute fucking terror /pos

Fanart:

@androgynouspenguinexpert

Can YOU believe Penguin's only been posting art since, like, December? I certainly can't, because it's like they've drawn every boy at this point and each is as smoochable and adorable as the last. Highlights: Their Porter is one of my favorites; what can I say? Who can resist this high ponytail and cape combo? I also love their Hush, cause look at him~! He's adorable! Penguin gives all these boys such luscious, floofable hair; I love them!

@cute-brainz: she/they/it

Kindly, lovingly, respectfully, Cute's listeners designs reduce me to a sniveling, simpering puddle of a simp. I become nothing but a humble, simple straight man, and none of you came blame me good god their listeners are hotter than all the redacted men- Highlights: Like, look at their Lovely: the hair, the singlet, the VIBES? Fuckin irresistible; like Vincent, I'd give them anything their heart desires. And their ANGEL? The MINUTE David Shaw fumbles that bag, I'm on my knees with a ring hello earth angel will you be mine

@darling-solaire

Darl has been posting art for only a month and a half at the writing of the post, and yet I feel like I've loved their Solaires for forever. They, as a unit, are hot and tragic as fuck, and I love them. Highlights: I am obsessed, particularly, with the Solaire family portraits, but maybe that's because my girl Alexis is up there, and I love her. There's also this bust compilation of more Redacted boys in case you didn't find your favorite in the Solaires~!

@free-boundsoul: she/her

Okay so, like, vibe with me did you ever love Lisa Frank products with the bright, saturated colors and sparkling eyes but wish instead of cuddly animals that there were really hot men? Then Savvie is the artist for you~ Highlights: One, it's fun to see a Regulus that's not blue, okay? It's thinkin outside the box. Two, the CRACKS? WITH THE GOLD PEEKING THROUGH? I'm inconsolable my god. Speaking of daemons, Fool!Gavin is sort of everything to me. He's just really rocking that sweater vest!

@hotmcrodz: he/they

I know for a fact that I'm not the only one obsessed with the way Jai draws human anatomy. I have unironically seen a Jai piece in the tag and gone "WOWZA" like I'm Jim Carrey in The Mask; that's what they do to me. Highlights: This Milo was one of the pieces that made my eyes pop out my head like a cartoon wolf; I think it's the shirtlessness plus the muscle pose. I just couldn't handle it. I also reacted like that to their Babe because I am an equal opportunity pervert /hj

@izzuku: he/they

Izzuku designs characters with the most realistic and gorgeous body types; like, I love the soft jawlines and how warm and touchable they draw skin. Every Izzuku design is kissable as hell. Highlights: I have to recommend his Regulus and Hush designs, obviously, they're my favorite men. However, I can't let the world go by another rotation without recommending this special Halloween version of Vincent~!

@kilarthmac: she/they

In case we needed another reason to love and appreciate the iconic timestamping account we all recognize from the Redacted comments, we cannot neglect their fanart! Highlights: Like, look at this brought-back-wrong Vega! This Hush with his cute face and off-putting air! He's so cute and so weird! I also love this piece they've done for one of my favorite rarepairs, Imperium!Lasko/Adam~

@latenightsleeper: he/they/it/she

My kinfolk and my beloved, one of the few people who understand me and the vision that is beautiful, blonde, dumb and lovable Christian. They will give you so many feelings about Darlin and Christian, and they will cause you agony /pos Highlights: Obviously, I'm obsessed with the Tank/Christian art like this one (Christian is just so cuuute), but we're all obsessed with this Sam/Darlin animatic set to Eat Your Young.

@maxpaulll

An amazing artist that I'm so glad we managed to get to migrate to Tumblr from Twitter so I could put them on this list~ Highlights: I am obsessed always with their Indigenous character designs, especially David. Like, look at him, he's indescribably beautiful, outshone by no one except maybe Max's Imp!Vega, because oh my god look at him~

@nortyourself: she/her

I don't think there's anyone who's not obsessed with at least one of Rachel's pieces; like, I believe she'll get to every Redacted man with the speed and beauty she works. Even Reticuli has gotten the Rachel treatment and been made hot af. Highlights: Technically, this Imperium!Damien just takes me breath away; like, it would be blown up and framed in his palace (for all of his short and tempestuous reign). Personally, her Hush has a dear and special place in my heart. He's just my favorite~!

@penncilkid: any pronouns

One of the most gorgeous and darling and non-stop creators in the space! They're a true triple threat, kicking our hearts in the butt with their art, their writing, and their audio roleplay series~ Highlights: With so many mediums under their belt, it's so hard to choose. If you're looking for purely Redacted content, their art is prolific and so creative, I've got to share the whole gallery. If you're in the market for a new VA to fall in love with, you've got to check out their youtube channel~!

@pycth: any pronouns

I dont have anything creative or profound to say here- all of pycth's designs are smoking hot and would render me selectively mute with a glance, 'nuff said. Highlights: How can I PICK? Ugh, hottest of the hot that comes to mind has got to be their President Moore art; like, this pose isn't FAIR. On the other end of the spectrum, if you want your heart kicked in the butt, I don't think any of us are over this Sam piece or ever will be.

@rainingcatsandjune: any pronouns

Another new artist who's only been here since April, and yet- I would die for his and his fine-ass, touchable Sam. Like, hell, render any man pretty like that, and I'll die for him. That's how pretty this art is. Highlights: Like, look at him. How does one do anything but look at him, especially in this pose? Again, look at him! Look at the hands. The soft, touchable glow and how it lights and shades his and Darlin's skin. The broad shoulders good god~

@sainthowlzon: they/he

You can't turn a corner on tumblr without seeing some of Howl's adorable Scribble Dolls or Icons! (Or any other social media actually. I feel like I've deffo seem some of Howl's icons on Tiktok too.) They're cute, they're iconic, and there's one for almost everyone! Highlights: Here's that full set of icons for your perusal; my personal favorite is Asset's. And here's the full set of Redacted Scribble Dolls; my favorite is Regulus, I think, because of his freaky vibes, but it's so hard to pick!

@sincerelywhistler: any pronouns

Like everyone with a working set of eyes and a beating heart, I am obsessed with all of Wes's designs; like, who wouldn't fall in love at first sight with all those beautiful and often shirtless people? Highlights: There's honestly too many to pick from, but I'll TRY. Their Gavin is an absolute must, I share it with the Discord on sight, he's that it girl if you will. Oh, and one cannot neglect Avior's HBS piece; I'm not even an Avior girlie, and I was like daaaaaamnnnnnnn~

@slushiepizza: they/them

Where would all the guy-lovers be without Slushie and their absolute cornucopia of Guy and Honey delights? Like, where else would we get our homemade, MacGyver'd serotonin? Highlights: The "Everyday" series is everything to me, and I mean everything; Guy has become too relatable and has struck me right in the heart. If you're not in a Guy mood, I'm also in love with their older, cozy Anton~!

@s0lairee: she/they

Jo's style is just so clean, so cute, and I really love it when they play with lighting in their pieces. Like, we are almost, almost there to making me stan Vincent if you're gonna drape him in moonlight like that... Highlights: ...thought, if I had to pick, I'd probably lean more towards Vincent's partner. They're rocking the red eyes, I love them! I'm also obsessed with their freckle-y, sweet Lasko, because who isn't?

@strawberrybouvine: he/they

The artistic equivalent of gourmet candy, I am absolutely obsessed with the gorgeous colors of Jasper's art and cannot get enough of the sweetness! Is this sugar running through my veins or unparalleled cuteness? Highlights: I'm not even a David stan but, like, jesus christ, the long hair and hairy chest makes me want to go feral. Don't even get me started on the cuteness of his chibi art, I really will start foaming at the mouth.

@theflowersaremine

I don't know exactly what medium Haylin uses or what colors or effects they use, but goddamn it makes those men so dreamy. I'm not even a Sam stan, but that's a smoochable man right out of Gilmore Girls /pos Highlights: Like, are you seeing the Gilmore Girls vision? That's a handsome man from a wholesome show geared for women- almost as handsome as this art of David. I see this smile in my dreams; it's so beautiful.

@venuslove-28: any pronouns

Venus's art is strawberry and vanilla soft serve injected straight into my heart; it's so familiar and cute, so charming, and I want to stim and bounce in excitement when I see it. Does that make sense? It'll make sense when you see it. Highlights: Personally, I have never and I will never stop thinking about this Huxley, I am simply not capable. Their Avior is also cuter than all get-out, I must admit.

@wingless-cupid

I don't think anyone does cute and colorful and pastel and kawaii quite like Cupid. You can't help but look and admire all the eye-catching colors and then want to hug their cheery, dynamic characters! Highlights: I'm highkey obsessed with their Freelancer and DAMNily and all their d(a)emons in general. Like, look at this! Minh is such a cutie and a simp, I love them! I'm also constantly thinking about this art in particular, because look at all these PRICELESS EXPRESSIONS!

@yoteako: he/it

Would you like stunning, high quality art and tragic, old man yaoi on your dash? That's a silly question; of course you do which is why we're going to follow and love on Yote. Highlights: See how beautiful, doomed, and intimate this multi-page comic is about two characters who've never canonically spoken? That's devotion. On the less forsaken side of the narrative, their Gavin/Lasko ship art is embedded into my heart.

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted

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jazeswhbhaven · 1 month ago

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I just want sth fluff right now... How about a week with the kings (plus Lucifer) turn into a smol boiiii (still chosen between their mind still normal or a completely child).

Hehe wonder if the whole kingdom would turn upside down because of the mother side of MC :3 (like they're a really good mother/caretaker/...)

(ok I'm sorry for the grammar, english is not my first language 🥹🥹)

Thank you for waiting anon, and don't worry I understood what you meant!

MC being a caretaker for our kings when they suddenly get turned into toddler versions of themselves is so much fun to think about honestly. They were probably all just little menaces'~

Lead in: Uh oh, a strange spell has come across Hell! For a week in springtime, it seems that a certain tree has spread pollen and affected only certain devils, that being the kings...and now they're? young devils? They have physically regressed in age to that of a small child (each king looking different based on the amount of pollen they inhaled). Let's see how MC will fare having to be a caretaker for them!

Satan: He's so mischievous, getting into everything and breaking things. And who knew a devil this age would still be teething with all of his teeth in?! There's bite marks in the furniture, the curtains, just about everything. He's also got a mouth on him, and plays pranks often. Sitri is being driven mad, and Ppyong has been chewed on like a toy far too much. Here comes MC to the rescue! They can't really discipline him that well, but they are firm by wrapping him up in a thick blanket burrito so he can move. He's a bit feisty and likes to test MC, but that's nothing for them. Though they had to be careful when feeding him or he's liable to take off their fingers in the process. The entire week goes well, and thankfully MC doesn't have to change any diapers. But...Satan purposely doesn't aim for the toilet so the walls are uh...quite filthy. Good thing this was only for a week and Gehenna is back to somewhat of normalcy.

Mammon: Thankfully, when he was turned into a small devil again he didn't inhale too much of the pollen resembling a 10 year old boy. As a child, Mammon was sick a lot and had to be monitored. He was just as curious and still didn't have that filter. So for the most part he was self sufficient. MC still needed to be there for him just to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt. And now that he's got MC to care for him, he gets in his feelings, still remembering everything that happened to him before...he clings to MC, often cuddling and being silent. Sometimes even crying. MC getting to see him this emotional more often is a nice change of pace as he seems to just bury his emotions more often as an adult. MC even sings to him, reads to him, and lets him sleep in the same bed with a few stuffed toys. When the week is over, he's back to himself but there's something slightly different about him now. It seems that maybe, his inner child has healed just a little.

Beelzebub: For whatever reason, he's a toddler, and just as rambunctious and destructive. His powers are still quite strong, and are out of control. Bael thought he couldn't get work done then? He certain can't now. Paperwork drawn on with crayon, puddles of acid spit, random half eaten piles of food...and hide and seek seems to be his favorite game that turns into a disaster when he's hiding in one of the many ADULT clubs in Aybssos. It's up to MC to help rangle in this small devil and fast. They prepare pre-made snacks of his favorite foods, the games that MC comes up with are good enough for his short attention span and fun enough to repeat multiple times of the day, a large room where he can color on the walls and crawl on them even, and well he can even use the targets added in for practice with aiming his acidic spit. It's a full time job looking after Beel, but MC has it done. It was also the most difficult week for everyone at the palace. Worst part is...Beel doesn't remember anything once he's back to normal.

Leviathan: You'd assume that looking over a small Levi would be easy. Um, it's not. Him being back at that age that he was brings back horrible memories of when he was in Heaven in the devil camps. He's lashing out on all the citizens of Hades, even his nobles, paranoia, nightmares, not wanting to come out of his coffin nor eat. It's a mess. MC has a lot of work cut out for them, but they go into this with grace and patience. Levi doesn't trust them, and MC has the bruises and scratches to prove it. But slowly through the week, he starts to calm down, though still independent. The only other noble MC has to worry about is Orias who has been trying to take advantage of this situation. But it seems that Levi's innocence deters him (and MC protecting Levi) The last half of the week, Levi is now sleeping with MC inside the coffin so his nightmares aren't as bad. He's even played a couple games with them, and held their hand just out of nowhere. When he's back to normal, he doesn't admit to anything that happened with MC while they were there, denying pretty much everything. But he's closer to MC now after the event. At least Hades is back in working order!

Lucifer: SMALL ANGEL LUCI??? When MC had the prevleige of seeing him this way, he's very much adorable. His wings have temporarily returned, but they're tiny, just itty bitty. His hair is fluffy, eyes wide and full of wonder, and his halo is so bright and cheery. This a different side of Luci that must have died over time being in Heaven. But during this time he's very quiet, likes to cling on MC, and his nobles, riding on their backs and asking for snacks and angel milk. Gamigin helps MC the most, the jingling of his staff actually being soothing to small angel Luci. Paradise Lost though for the entire week was just as it was before. Mostly peaceful, nothing important going on other than this. The week turns out to be pretty easy for MC in watching him. When he's back to normal, he kindly asks MC to never mention what they saw to anyone. His nobles also will die with this secret. MC feels important, knowing that even Luci's own brothers have never seen him that young.

Belphegor: Huh...well it seems the pollen has turned Belphie into a baby. And even when he's sleeping, he causes alot of problems for Nifelheim. His little baby snores causes earthquakes, he also soils his diaper during his sleep even though he's only been drinking milk....those diaper changes are near radioactive. When he wakes up and cries to be fed it's like a high pitched ear splitting cry. At least the best part is when he's asleep, in a deep deep sleep? No thing happens. And thankfully, he was asleep for the majority of the week. There was only once where MC had to deal with him awake and he was cranky the entire time. Non-stop crying, hair pulling, and demanding that Beleth holds him as he was biting his arm with his gums to teeth. Beleth did well, he and MC acting like a married couple while watching him. The week may have been over and done and he was back to normal, but goodness. Maybe it's a good thing he was sleeping for majority of his life until recently. Him being awake as a young devil is a pain.

Asmodeus: It's rumored that no one has seen Asmo as a young devil. Well that changed when MC got to watch him. He's...a lot less horny as a small devil which is a relief. He was still mischievous, and often hinted wanting milk from MC even though they had no ability to breastfeed/produce milk. But it was strange that he would ask that when he's...a young child devil. Oh, well maybe he was starting his puberty early. But it's no matter, his charming abilities were still working all to well meaning that MC spoiled him with pretty much attention and affection. He was still very behaved and would often be reading or writing something in a journal. MC partially wishes he could be like this all the time and wondered where all that horny energy came from even as the embodiment of lust. Maybe he'd tell her later when he was back to normal. Abaddon didn't change much at all in his absence, the guards holding things down as per usual.

#whb #jwhbasks❓#whb kings #whb headcanons #young kings!#i really hope the reason they changed made sense here lol #jwhbrequests📬

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marimayscarlett · 13 days ago

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If Richard was a vampire, what kind would he be? Like would he sparkle like from Twilight? Would he come from The Lost Boys universe, or Fright Night or Interview with a Vampire?

This has been bugging me for weeks, I want to write a vampire!Richard fic but I can't figure out the best fit for him, I'm not sure if this has been asked before tho so I apologize in advance of it has! Also feel free to do the rest of the Ramm boys if you'd like!! I love hearing your opinions!!

I wanted to ask the vampire and RZK knowledge queen, thanks!! 🥰

Hi 👋

⚠⚠⚠ This will be long. I am so sorry. ⚠⚠⚠

Oh dear, dear Anon, now you've really stirred something up here... Once I start talking about vampires, especially in connection with Richard, it can get very long, very detailed, and very rambling (as you see below). On top of that, it’s the kind of thing that interests about 0.2% of this fandom, while the rest probably falls asleep halfway through. BUT WHO CARES. (well, I do...) I’m still going to answer extensively, as I have quite a few thoughts on this.

I’ll first introduce the key traits of various vampire races across different vampire media (series, films, books), including some of the ones you mentioned and a few I myself find important (I just chose a few, otherwise this would've gotten endless). I’ll use bullet points to make things easier to follow. Then, I’ll compare those traits with Richard’s aesthetic and estimate which characteristics would suit him best.

Some vampire characteristics (I forgo mentioning the teeth since at least this is pretty similar):

Interview with a Vampire (book by Anne Rice & movie from 1994) vampires stop aging after they're turned - pale, with luminous skin - require human/animal blood to survive - transition: through through the exchange of blood with a vampire - exposure to sunlight is fatal (burning skin etc), fire is also deadly - crosses and holy water have no effect on them - no reflections in mirrors - sleep not really necessary, still rest during the day

-> a quite typical and traditional depiction of vampires.

The vampire diaries (books by Lisa J. Smith and show from 2009-2017) stop aging after their transformation - eyes darken, veins appear beneath them, and their fangs emerge when feeding or angry - rapid healing abilities - human becomes a vampire by dying with vampire blood in their system, followed by completing the transition through feeding on blood - sunlight burns and weakens them, solution: daylight ring made by a witch - weakened by Vervain (burns their skin) - die by stike through the heart as well as from beheading, heart ripped out of their chest, fire, werewolf bites - Vampires can compel humans to obey their commands - can suppress their emotions by turning off their humanity - "original vampires" as the origin of all vampires

-> a more modern interpretation with some loopholes for the vampires

Black Dagger Brotherhood (books by J. R. Ward) larger and more physically imposing than humans, excellent fighters - eyes change color when they feed - extraordinarily long lifespans, but they are not completely immortal (can be f.e. killed by explosions) - can only survive by drinking the blood of the opposite sex from their own species - Vampires are born, not made: transition from mortal to full vampire during their mid-20s, is extremely dangerous, often fatal - Sunlight is deadly - Vampires form intense, lifelong mating bonds to their "shellans" - strong sexual drives, closely tied to their feeding habits and emotional connections - require downtime during the day - some vampires possess unique powers (mind control, telekinesis)

-> a quite dramatic and very emotionally charged interpretation

The Lost Boys (movie from 1987) maintain a human appearance, but reveal monstrous features when feeding or fighting - do not age and can live forever - can be killed by a wooden stake to the heart, decapitation, or severe injuries - possess superhuman strength, speed, agility - can fly or hover - transition by drinking vampire blood - require human blood to survive - sunlight is deadly - garlic and holy water burn and repel them - no reflections in mirrors - form groups or "packs" - killing the vampire "leader" (head vampire) can reverse the transformation for those who haven't fully turned

-> mixture of traditional and more modern-fantasy elements

Twilight (books by Stephanie Meyer, movies 2008 - 2012) pale skin that sparkles in sunlight - eyes change color based on their diet (gold: animal blood, red: human blood) - do not age and can live forever - superhuman strength, speed, reflexes - heal instantly from injuries unless they're torn apart and burned - human becomes a vampire if bitten and exposed to venom - are not harmed by sunlight, yet prevent it due to their skin - bodies are described as hard as stone - do not sleep or rest - some vampires possess unique supernatural powers (telepathy, precognition, emotional manipulation) - form covens or families - not affected by garlic, holy water, crosses, or wooden stakes

-> a modern and romantized way of characterisation

Dracula (book by Bram Stoker, movie 1992) pale with blood-red lips (book, movie in the beginning)) - do not age and immortal - possess superhuman strength, speed, and heightened senses - have the ability to hypnotize or mentally control their victims - require human blood to survive - human becomes a vampire by drinking a vampire’s blood after being fed upon repeatedly - sunlight weakens them, yet does not kill them immediately - can be killed by a wooden stake through the heart, decapitation, or exposure to sunlight and fire - are repelled by crosses, crucifixes, holy water, and consecrated ground - no reflections in mirrors - less powerful during the day, prefer to rest in their coffins filled with soil from their homeland - can summon and command nocturnal creatures like bats, wolves, and rats

-> most likely the most famous characterisation of vampires

Nosferatu (movies from 1922, 1979 and 2024) either rodent-like appearance (1922, 1979) or grotesque rotten corpse aesthetic - do not age and immortal, yet appearance seems to change through the years - require human blood to survive - completely destroyable by sunlight - is associated with disease and pestilence - must sleep in coffins filled with soil from their homeland - raw, primal desires very evident (2024)

-> based on Dracula, yet still different (and unnecessarily hot in case of the 2024 version)

Now on to my small evaluation, which traits I could see in Richard:

Well, where do I begin? I’d most likely place Richard, on one hand, in the rather traditional universe of Interview with the Vampire. It fits his at-times very sophisticated demeanor - "very gentleman" (to quote him), very classic, very seductive. At first glance, he would fit perfectly into that world, also because it feels like it aligns with the dramatic stage persona he occasionally adopts.

Nevertheless, other traits also suit him if we indulge in vampire fantasy: the ability to manipulate others with unbeatable persuasion (compelling) from The Vampire Diaries, the pack mentality from The Lost Boys or Twilight when you think of his loyalty and love for the band and his family. Curling up at home with movies or retreating to his studio to recharge or find refuge - leaving aside the morbid aspects, this reminds me of the rest accommodations in Dracula or Nosferatu. And lastly, I also see him fitting well into the Black Dagger Brotherhood universe. The emotionality that sometimes overflows, the mutual loyalty among the brothers, and not least the strong attraction between the sexes, along with the significant focus on emotional and physical connection and lust.

As you can see, I can’t quite decide. Hopefully, this helps you anyway 👀

Some fitting gifs to add to the mood:

As for the other band members, I’m torn because I don’t see all of them fitting into the vampire direction when it comes to a fantasy AU. The one I could most imagine in the vampire realm would be Schneider - most likely in the Vampire Diaries direction. It’s just a feeling that this would suit him: some classic elements combined with loopholes that would allow him to enjoy life as a vampire.

Thank you for your attention, if you made it this far 😌

#the way i sighed as i typed out “sparkles in sunlight”....smh #rammstein #richard kruspe #ask #vampire posting #iwtv #black dagger brotherhood #dracula #nosferatu #twilight #the lost boys #the vampire diaries

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celestie0 · 2 months ago

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ellie's beta reader application

hi friends!! i am looking for beta readers for my jjk fanfics :"0 i just reaaallyyy want to get back into writing n stuffs but have been struggling w motivation/confidence so i feel like having beta readers would make it nicer n easier aaa :'')

here are the stories that i'm looking for beta readers for, plus a little blurb about what the beta readers' role/input would be for each, but in general you’d basically be reading thru my chapter, leaving comments/notes w suggestions or reactions, and help me work out any plot-related struggles i may be having :)

please read all of the text below before sending me an ask

kickoff - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters. read through for clarity & prose. may run by some ideas by the beta readers, but for the most part i have the rest of kickoff set in stone!

in holy matriphony - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters, as well as my upcoming plans for the series. i have most of ihm set in stone as well, but may just need some help with making sure things flow well since the plot's a lil jumbled in my head!

around the clock - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters. i don't really have much planned for this series, so i would like to get some help w planning the rest of it! i anticipate 4ish parts, and i'm really just looking to have some fun w this one :)

if the world was ending - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters. i am kinda struggling with the overall plan i have for this series, as i have the first and last chapters mostly finished, but need help figuring out some of the in between

additionally, all my beta readers will have early access to any other oneshots, drabbles, mini series that i come up with down the line, and can also help me come up with additional plotlines/tropes from the ones i've brainstormed for those more independent works. there won't be any crossover for the series though, meaning that if you've been selected as a beta reader for "in holy matriphony", i won't be sharing drafted chapters/ideas for any of my other series to you

requirements to be a beta reader

must be 18+ years old

must be ok w spoilers for any of my works

must be an active reader of mine

must be proficient in english

must have a discord account

should not be a fellow fanfic author

must not share any of my drafted materials/ideas to others

how to apply

to apply, please first ensure that you satisfy the requirements listed above, and then send me an ask off of anon that answers the questions below (don't worry, i won't be publicly responding to/posting any of the asks to my feed, i just need your username so i can message you!)

i will close applications in 2-3 days!

beta reader application template

list your age:

how long have you been a reader of mine:

rank your preference of fics that you would like to beta read for (for example, kickoff > ihm > atc > itwwe):

for those who have listed "kickoff" or "in holy matriphony" as either your first or second choice, please briefly list 2-3 scenes from each series that are your favorite or were memorable to you (i just wanna make sure you're an active/engaged reader w a good understanding of the plots! the scenes can be briefly listed such as “hotel room scene” for kickoff or “kitchen kiss scene” for ihm. if both series are in your top two, please list scenes for each of them, but if neither are in your top two, then you can ignore this question):

anything else you would like me to know (optional):

please list your discord username:

and that's it! i will message you here on tumblr for further steps :) aaa i hope this is successful hahah and in general i'm really excited to more closely interact w some of you guys :'') i will make a lil discord group for us hehe. tbh getting beta reader(s) has been loooong overdue for me but i'm looking forward to it n think it will be good for me! much love <3 feel free to reach out w any questions :0

#ellie's beta reader application

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capitalisticveins · 3 months ago

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Seeing as how you're doing headcanons again i'd like to request hcs of Gavin,Milo,Sam,Vincent,and Guy( btw here's a thought for ya Guy as Hermes dangerous has stuck in my head for the past couple hours send help) also your previous hc were also great!(you could say they were ruthless ha ha ha im sorry that was bad lol)

~ Deviant anon （⊃◕ω◕(´ω｀*⊂)

idk if you can tell but I really like Guy

also I wrote headcanons for some character recently so characters like Gavin, Sam, and Milo have them a lil short than Vincent and Guy since it takes a while to think about possible in-character hcs for them. Sorry :(

Lots of Headcanons #3

Gavin

Believe it or not, Gavin’s social media accounts are usually blank. Save for Instagram. He just has them to comment under the group’s posts.

Despite never reading a book, Freelancer has told him he’d do best in the writing industry.

He does not know how to hold a baby. If you give him a baby for any reason he’d hold it with both of his hands under its shoulders.

The worst he’s been scared was when he played a horror VR game, but he didn’t scream or anything he really just jolted and went “shit” and moved on. Freelancer was not amused.

He likes being the big spoon when he and FL cuddle because he gets to breathe in their scent, hold them, and remind himself that this is real, and not just a dream he’ll wake up from.

Milo

You can’t beat him in cup pong. Digitally or physically. You just can’t.

The only reason David is considered a better cook than Milo is because Milo uses a lot of seasoning and the pack is full of babies who can’t handle oregano or sazón.

Whenever the pack goes somewhere tropical he has to wear a shirt or Sweetheart will constantly attempt to latch onto his torso.

Milo and cats have always gone together like peanut butter and jelly. He had a cat toy when he was a toddler, his first cell phone had a stray cat as his wallpaper, he’d feed the stray cats around his home, etc. So when he learned that he and the people around him could turn into “dogs” (wolves but still) he was DEVASTATED. Got over it after a day tho.

He likes juice boxes.

Avid Apple Juice “tastes like piss” hater, although he also says mint ice cream tastes like toothpaste so take that as you will.

Sam

Sam fucking hates cowboys.

Sam had braces from the ages of 19-21 and the only upside he had to being a vampire when he first turned was that he didn’t need his retainer anymore.

Sam always reads manga wrong and no matter how many times anyone explains it he’ll read it from left to right and never understands what’s going on.

The closest Sam has gotten to riding a horse is when he flopped on top of Darlin’s back while they were shifted and they walked around his house like that…he’s never been on a horse.

Sam has a lot of existential crisises, compared to like Vincent or Porter.

If something's flying and he can't figure out if it's a plane, helicopter, animal, or any identifiable flying object, he just believes it's an Alien UFO and moves on.

Darlin' gave him a wheat head for Christmas once. He was not amused.

Vincent

Wanted to be a youtuber for a brief period in time in 2010.

Had a weird obsession with those traced anime characters dancing tiktoks in 2020, a little after meeting Lovely.

He canonically has multiple cars he likes showing off to Lovely, but he also nearly never uses them and it’s Lovely who showboats them and takes them on joyrides.

He didn’t believe William at first when he was first told he’s a vampire now and was the only one who survived The Surge incident, until they both saw his funeral take place and see his grave, which took place a long time after the accident because his parents refused to believe he was dead.

He had 3 tomodachis at once and they all constantly died because he forgot feeding them was a thing.

He commonly "regrets" asking William to make him unable to lie to Lovely because they like to ask him embarrassing questions on purpose and he can’t help but answer them, even though he could just stay quiet.

His favorite memory as a kid was roller skating with his parents on his 7th birthday. Even though he fell on his face, sprained his ankle, and had a loose tooth fall out. Still his favorite day.

Guy

GUY IS SO HERMES CODED UR RIGHT

Turned a fanfic he wrote as his college essay and got in just because of it.

Was very afraid of Honey when they first met, they kept staring at him like he was the scum of the Earth. They just wanted to talk to him about the Animal Crossing pin on his backpack.

Whenever his friends order from Max’s, and he turns out to be their delivery guy, they make fun of him so much (playfully) and give him a 10 dollar tip

He borrowed his friend’s motorcycle to impress Honey

Cried over Gnomeo and Juliet

Dressed up as the Thomas Jefferson Miku Binder drawing in 2023.

He almost gave himself a buzzcut once when he was drunk, he had to be held down because everyone knew he’d regret it so hard later, not matter how funny it’d be.

#A wheat head is the thing cowboys have in their mouths #When I write headcanons it mainly consists of me playing Tower of hell on roblox and switching tabs to write a hc whenever one comes to min #its a long process but also very fun #its also why I only write HCs on my laptop #bc fuck mobile roblox #ALSO GUY WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE DANGEROUS especially the livestream animation holy shit #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted milo #redacted vincent #redacted guy #redacted honey

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hopefullyyoursmcg · 11 days ago

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Hii!! 🤖 Anon here (sorry I’ve not been active😭)

I‘ve been thinking about which Batboy would make the most sense to be the Baby daddy and to be honest I have no clue.

I think in a way it could all fit and make sense really.

For instance:

Dick has always tried to have some sort of connection with Routine!Reader, an perhaps it was never really in a sibling way because of the distance between them both.

Jason and Routine!Reader weren’t even raised at the same time within the manor, and by the time they met properly she was already past the age of wanting any connections.

Tim already had pre-existing obsessive tendencies surrounding her, from what I can tell, and probably has had the most interactions with her due to their similarities.

But I’d love to know what you think! I really loved your response to my previous ask about these three being romantic yanderes in this fic because I think there’s so much potential that should be explored by writers because, to a point, some of these platonic fics just seem so repetitive. Let’s change up the dynamics a bit y’know?

Ok good news, I put up a poll and it looks like you will still get some Romantic batboys.

Now let's get into the romantic potential of the batboys.

Now first of all, as Rountine! reader did not grow up anywhere near the three boys(because one was busy, one was dead and the other was doing his own thing until the actual moment they meet) or she was just at the time where she couldn't give a damn.

Dick, as you said, couldn't really grow close to the reader due to not spending time with her when they were younger. However, when he was trying to be better and be close to the growing family, routine!reader just didn't want to be near him. She did not look annoyed, nor did she look angry, she just looked at him like he was nothing. In the past when Routine Reader was at a family dinner(which she didn't want to be there) Dick would try to talk to her, but she gave him nothing. Now thinking about how dick actually realizes it is a whole new battle. I like to believe that he would realize what his feeling is while he's trying to sleep and all he can think of is Routine! reader's cold face staring at him.

Now as I said many times before, Jason was dead when she was brought in. But they meet after his vengeance arc, at the manor library. Now reader and Jason were neutral with each other at first because Reader at that point had the mindset of "if they don't care about me, I don't care about them" and Jason just wanted the new books that Alfred told him about, but that didn't mean he didn't stop and stare. Now after feeding Jason some extra pork chops you had cooked, that's when the feelings started to show. Jason, to put it lightly, is a fucked up guy. Who wouldn't be after what he went through? And fucked up guys, do fucked up things. For example, he wouldn't leave you alone unless you cooked him something, and even if you still didn't cook for him, he would stare at you, no matter what you were doing. Jason's feelings for Rountine! reader aren't normal romantic, but I like to think that one of the main components in his feelings towards reader is how reader cooks. On the very rare occasion when Jason gets reader to cook for him, as he watches them cook, it kinda heals him? Does that make sense? Like he's just sitting there waiting to be fed, and it just feels normal and quiet.

Tim's obsession with the reader came from wanting to research reader and how she thinks. Basically like a lab rat. And you are right when you said she had more of an interaction with him. As both of them during their early teen years, grew up together in the manor. But it wouldn't be until maybe a year after he became Robin that he met Rountine!reader in the kitchen. As time passes on, the more private research Tim has done about the reader. Which is a very small folder of nearly nothing. Besides her full name, date of birth, a list of friends, and other small things, that was pretty much it. Every so often if he has the time, he tries to find something new about Routine! reader, which is nearly impossible she doesn't even have any social media accounts. Tim sees Rontine!reader as a perfect puzzle, and he want figure out how she ticks.

(hope ya like it 🤖)

#yandere batfamily x reader #routine!reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #anon ask #anon 🤖

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bharv · 9 months ago

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Feel free to ignore but: do you feel that gortash is - I guess the word I'd use is "good" - at sex? By whatever metric you'd judge that?

Hey anon I LOVE THIS QUESTION and I can't be normal about it!

So I have to dive into it a bit into sections because there's a lot going on here for me and obviously the caveat here is this is my opinion, this is my opinion from inferences from the text, this is my opinion.

So in order to do this we need to cover a few sections: sexual education, sexual agency, sex as tool and sex as desire.

All of this is going under the cut for discussions of childhood abuse, canon inferences, decisions he makes in game, and some headcanons around agency and dub/non-con that readers may find uncomfortable.

so, let's start at the very beginning with:

Sexual Education

There are two things we know about young Enver Flymm. One is that he was raised in a small cobblers workshop where he shared a single room with his parents. The other is that at some point, he was taken to the literal hells where he suffered an incredibly physically abusive situation.

We don't know for sure the exact age he was taken, but I think it's easy to infer that he was prepubescent when he was taken from the way he is spoken about as a snot, a boy etc. by Nubaldin. Even if he was a little older, it's safe to infer that he didn't have a particularly healthy environment to learn about sex and sexuality either at home or in literal hell.

If we assume Enver was in hell, we know that the sex he would have potential been aware of was largely non-consensual. There's references all over the place about his fellow detainee Hope being sexually and physically assaulted as well as psychologically manipulated. We don't know with Enver if he ages in the hells (I assume he does, and that it is only those who sell their souls and end up there after death that do not age) but if he does, he goes from childhood to early adulthood, ten years, in this space (mirrored in Karlach spending ten years there as well, interestingly.)

We also don't actually know how he escaped the hells, and it is a niche headcanon (which I have also put into my works) that he as a young adult learned about sex and traded with Haarlep to find his route out (in my stories, this directly feeds into Mephistopheles being interested in the potential of this boy, and letting him steal the crown.) There's no text basis for this, it just neatly ties up some thematic threads and I think can be put aside and it still doesn't change the core that:

Enver Gortash had no way of having a healthy understanding of sex as a teenager. There isn't really any way that he could have! Either he's living in a one-bed apartment with abusive parents who hate his existence, or he's learning from Raphael's example in literal hell.

Sexual Agency

This is where a lot of people feel differently, but again, we can look at things as they are and then make some inferences.

Enver Gortash does not have a named spouse, or any named mistresses/side pieces/conquests. Anything. There is no evidence of anything (we will come to Durge later.) Compare this to Sarevok, who has two named partners and is inferred to have had others, and it is an interesting choice to have zero ties. It's particularly interesting because as a Lord, he would be expected to be thinking of siring a house, and as a man in power, the narrative expectation would be to find evidence of sex as a benefit of his position. We don't see any evidence of that.

There is a read that many, including me, bring to the fondness that The Dark Urge and Gortash have for each other, but again, there is no evidence that this is sexual or if it is, that it was ever something than a mutual pining. That's the joy of fanworks, you can grow on what's there, but it's not explicit that it's anything more than mutual admiration.

So for me? I think that there is significant evidence that he doesn't prioritise sexual attraction and fulfilment over other areas of reward.

Sex as a Tool

What we do know though is that he has used his body to get things he wants. The Jannath letter, which I love, makes it clear that he had sex with her for financial favours and clout, and that she indulged him in this. He's also more than happy to trade on his image in every way he can. I think it's easy to infer from this that he is, at least in one setting, able to give people what they want out of sex. Whether that means he's technically good OR he's good at constructing and fulfilling the fantasy, I think that's up to interpretation, but I think he knows what to do when it is a performance, and if there's something he can tangibly get out of it like money, power, the ability to blackmail somebody later, then that is the element that is getting him off, not the sex itself. Sex for gain is just another part of his arsenal, to be refined and researched like anything else, and picked up and put down as useful to him.

Sex as Desire

And this is --and it is completely up to interpretation here, I'm just rolling with the other things I see -- where it can potentially all fall apart for Gortash. If he actually likes somebody, if there is a desire or an affection or anything like that, and if he is able to even feel emotions like that, what does he do with them? It's not useful, it's not contained, it's not part of the punishment he learned in the hells or the seduction he learned in the patriars. If he does find himself genuinely fond of another person, how can that fit in his ideas of sex? Personally, I don't think it can do, and there's lots of ways to play with that. In my own stories, the sexual contact he has with Manva is brief, quite one-sided, and quite regressive. He is no charming seducer, but instead taken back to something much simpler that he likely didn't have space for when he was young. He has other encounters where he can't get it up, or can't climax, because the circumstances aren't quite right, the promise of power is not enough, or the partner is too willing (not like he has learned of in the hells at all.)

I think personally that if he does seek out recreational sex, then it is primarily going to be motivated by power play. And I don't think this is well negotiated kink territory. He plays with the player character constantly, testing them, destroying their reputation in the press quest, always vying for more power even when you are apparently allies. This is a man who always, always needs to know he can change the tide.

I think of the woman whose voice was used in the necrotic laboratory, who was stolen away with a promise of a better life. I think of Fariza Linnacker. There's no evidence either were sexual, but we do know that he took great pleasure in manipulating and destroying their lives.

Gortash has so much going on around sex as a tool, as a weapon even, that when it comes to a genuine connection, there's every possibility that he cannot perform at all.

And would that make him embarrassed? Angry? Would he blame? Lash out? Would he seek out professionals to replay old traumas as a "safe space"? Would he avoid all intimacy because he sees it as weak and disgusting? I think there's a lot of scope within this.

So the short version is... I think he's able to be good at sex when it's FOR something. But I don't know if he's even interested when it's not, and if he is, I think he has a long way to go to actively want to seek it out. And is he good in the way that it is connected, intimate? Probably not.

#something something some astarion parallels in there to probably #enver gortash #rotating him around like a rotisserie chicken every day #bg3

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doodle-pops · 10 months ago

Text

Love Scenario

Ecthelion x reader

Request: Hey! Can I request a dating fic between reader and Ecthelion? How does he woo/court her? What about their engagement? Wedding plans? Especially if this is set in Valinor after the FoG, and he’s just come back to life, and like, omg, now I have this lady I want to check out when I’m fresh out of soul prison. He probably relies on Glorfindel a little bit because he’s been more established since the late Second Age and comes from a “house of princes.” - Anon

A/N: As mentioned, I absolutely enjoyed writing this piece for Thel.

Warnings: fluff, humour, Egalmoth and Glorfindel helping their dear best friend, a bit of a sentimental moment, indirect confession

Words: 2.5k

Synopsis: With his return to Valinor and the desperate call to take action, Ecthelion has made it his purpose, day and night, to construct the perfect future for you happily ever after.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Since he returned.”

“…That’s over five months, Laurë!”

A weary side-eye glance at Egalmoth from Glorfindel and the former folded his lip to refocus his attention to their dear friend who was fretting over the right colours to paint the interior of your future house. Ask him if he had plucked the courage to speak to you upon his return and he’d throw swears at his friends. But he was already envisioning his life with you as though the most important action was completed. Dream on.

“Cream, bone white or ivory cream?” Came the steady voice of Ecthelion. In his hands were strips of the colours he suggested and on his face was a panicked expression as though he was running out of time.

Frowning and ready to calm his dear friend, Glorfindel stretched his palms outwards and gently waved them up and down to soothe the madman or rather, elf. “Thel, don’t you think this is all too much? You haven’t even asked—”

“Yes, I just did. What colour should I choose?” Ecthelion enunciated and widened his eyes further to emphasise his point.

At this point, it was Egalmoth to the rescue as he placed the vat of wine down and exhaled, ready to appear as the saviour to most, since all was impossible, of his stress. “What is the purpose of the colours, Thel?”

“Balusters for the balcony,” Ecthelion responded calmly as though you and he were already living together—in his head, you were—and he was tasked with the décor, both interior and exterior.

The room fell into silence as all three Lords were left at one another, or rather both Glorfindel and Ecthelion were left gawking at Ecthelion’s seriousness. Not a stutter or flatter in the batting of his lashes did Ecthelion show any signs of uncertainty when it came to answering their questions. He was indeed picking out the colour of the balusters for the balcony, so when you wished to hang your baskets of flowers or sit in the evening and gaze at the setting sun, whatever you wore would be highlighted by the colour the balusters were.

Tongue in cheek, Glorfindel closed his mouth and flashed an awkward grimace before cutting the silence with an answer. “Bone white, especially if you’re choosing to paint your house in blue, it would mesh well with each other.”

Grateful for the say, Ecthelion wasted no time in returning to his colour scheming and designing of your future home with a small ‘thank you’. However, Egalmoth was beginning to find confusion in this entire dynamic since they were both against feeding into their dear friend’s delusions. The look of disgust plastered across the silver-haired male’s face as he scrutinised Glorfindel grew intensely as the second ticked by.

“Are you serious? No, no, no, don’t cut me off. I’m being serious here,” he protested at Glorfindel’s attempt to sway his mind. Dropping his voice and octave and inching his head closer to bridge the gap between him and the latter, he whisper-yelled, “Are you serious?! We were asked to help him finish his confession letter so he could serenade Y/N, not indulge in his delusionary fantasies that cannot exist until he confesses! Why are you helping him?!”

Amused at the sudden outburst from his comrade, he released small chuckles at his concern for their ‘puppy love’ friend. “But weren’t you—”

“No, no, no, no, no. Do not categorise me as an accomplice when I am not!” Pinching his brow, Egalmoth flung his back against the cushioned chair a little too hard, defeating the cushioning purpose. A quiet yelp slipped out before a series of exasperated sighs followed and a single eye roll. “I’m here to help lover boy get his lover, not keep him looking like a sick puppy.”

Unable to respond, Glorfindel watched with laughter as Egalmoth rose from his seat and trudged over to Ecthelion to pry the sheet of paper out of the ebony-haired elf’s hands which almost sparked an outburst.

“Alright, I’ve had enough. You summoned us to aid you with wooing Y/N and here we are aiding you with picking house colours. Well no more! Get me your best rendition of your confession Laurë helped you write. Get up!” With a wave of his hand, Egalmoth ushered Ecthelion to his feet to recite his poem. Unfortunately, Thel was able to cast a sheepish expression which spoke volumes and made both Lords groan.

Holding his palms upwards to surrender, he defended himself as best as he could. “In my adversity, I was overcome with excitement for our future each time I sat down to finish the poem, so I have an excuse.”

This time, it was Glorfindel who turned on the heat and cast his dear friend a look of disappointment. With his arms and legs crossed, he bore holes in Ecthelion’s head, creating possible solutions to help his helpless friend without launching his harp at his head. Needless to say, Glorfindel sighed heavily with the pressures of another person’s burden on his shoulders. “Where’s the parchment with the poem? Let’s see how well we can impersonate the great Elemmírë and create a masterpiece for you to profess your undying love for Y/N. Only this time you’re alive and not dead.”

Ending his joke with laughter, accompanied by Egalmoth, he rose from his chair to grip the parchment from Ecthelion’s hands as he produced it from inside his robes. With another disappointed shake of his head, he requested a charcoal and soon, all three were—rather two since Ecthelion kept interrupting to discuss your future—slaving away to create a poem worthy of your name. Nonetheless, after the first hour and a half passed, he managed to get into the flow of creating words from his mind and very soon the poem was halfway completed.

“Okay, so we have the first two stanzas down—thankfully!” sassed Egalmoth as he threw an unbiased glare at the ebony hair Lord who did not hesitate to return one with common courtesy. “I think one more stanza could be added; try fitting in a line that confesses his love?”

Sharply reading through what was already written, Ecthelion had found everything to be perfect, yet still missing something. Prying the parchment from Glorfindel’s fingers, Thel paced up and down the drawing room muttering to himself about the things he could include about you.

Your eyes? Your voice? Your beauty—no, that was already included. Perhaps…

And so, he began to recite the poem in hopes of conjuring the rest.

“In gardens fair, where roses bloom,

A beauty found, defying gloom.

Like you, fair one, a bloom so rare,

With an elegance that fills the air.

“Yet in this garden, one may find,

A soul as lovely, gentle, and kind.

Each delicate curve, each gentle hue,

Reflects the sweetness found in you.

“Oh, delicate rose of whispered sighs,

In your presence, the world complies,

For your grace outshines the floral art,

A masterpiece of tender heart.

“So let me liken you, my dear,

To roses blooming, ever near.

For in your grace, in every part,

You hold the essence of my heart.

“I lo—”

He froze as though the words were stuck in his throat. At the tip of his very tongue, he knew the next syllable to whisper to you whenever he got the chance. Yet, it refused to fall off his tongue as though something held it back. The trembling of his hands gave it away, though his slight stubbornness pushed his fear away and replaced it with confidence.

False confidence. He scoffed and stared at the ivory cream carpet.

What was he to be afraid of? He was the Great lord Ecthelion of the Fountain who slayed four Balrogs and great tales were sung of him. He stared death in its eye, confessing to you would be as easy as walking through the silvery streets of Gondolin once again. Yet something held him back.

The day he left you in the city of Tirion that day he departed, gnawed at his memory. It was easier to picture being with you than working up the courage to share his heart knowing that you might reject him. You had every right to since he floundered the opportunity ages ago. It didn’t matter how many forms of encouragement came his way; anxiety lurked overheard. His only wish was that he had confessed to you before departing to reduce this turmoil.

“Thel?” The soft whisper of Glorfindel’s voice woke him up and returned him to reality. “Is everything alright?”

There was a deafening silence before the crumpling of paper followed by a sigh. “Who am I fooling? I can’t bring myself to do this anymore.”

“Oi, mate! What are—What are you doing? We’ve come so far,” Egalmoth reasoned as he shot from his seat with his hands outwards. “You can’t back out now!”

“Well, I am!” Ecthelion responded curtly, whipping his head around to shoot a tired look at his friends. “All this…All of this I’m doing, and what if Y/N rejects me? I had the opportunity aeons ago and I didn’t—”

“And yet Y/N stayed without loving someone else. Isn’t that enough to let you know that they’re waiting for you to still try? Imagine if you didn’t have this chance, and they found someone else, you would blame yourself, right? Then don’t! Come on, Thel,” Egalmoth encouraged as he took steps closer to his friend, bending down to retrieve the balled-up parchment off the floor. “Don’t let all those months of designing your future home be for nothing! Picture me as Y/N; what would you say if you had the chance?”

The glare he threw at Egalmoth was enough to make anyone else scurry away. The temper and fury behind his eyes; water brimmed his lower lashes as a barbed wire found its way around his neck. The first inhale he took burned his lungs. It was better to be left in the fantasy world.

Parting his lips, his silver-grey eyes burnt with passion as his heart cried a symphony of love. “I would say that I’m sorry, and I love you.” he began with a feathered whisper, “I have loved you morning, noon and night, even in death. My soul yearns for the very essence of yours for I cannot exist without you; I do not think that I can. I wish to be at your side in this life, hereafter and the next; I never wish to be parted from you from this moment onwards. I only wish to cherish you…if you would forgive me and accept me as I am.”

The silence in the air was thick. A pin could fall to the carpet and a sound would ricochet. Both Lords were caught by the throat from the rawness of the confession, a stark contrast to what was originally discussed. Flowery words.

Heaving as though a burden was lifted from his chest, Ecthelion felt tears pooling his low lashes from the anxiety he suffered from his mistakes. He just wanted to be with you. Not go through this turmoil of overcoming his f—

Clap! Clap! Clap! “Oh, that was beautiful!”

The sound of three necks snapping simultaneously reverberated clearly in your eardrums as your sudden voice and clapping startled all three Lords. However, once all three pairs of eyes were locked on your figure standing gracefully as ever in the doorway, you froze mid-clapping and stood at attention, eye darting from left to right. You felt like you were unintentionally being scolded by your old buddies.

Shuffling on your feet, you offered a wolfy grin with an awkward chuckle. “Sorry, the worker informed me that Lord Ecthelion was in the drawing room relaxing with familiar company and I was permitted to enter. If I’m obstructing, I’ll come back another time.”

“Oh no, no, no, no!” exclaimed Glorfindel with a beam brighter than the sun as the opportunity of a lifetime presented itself on a diamond platter. He wasted no time in flying out of his chair and grabbing Egalmoth by his scruff to head towards the exit, leaving Ecthelion standing confused in the centre of the room. “You can stay and chat with Ecthelion, we were just heading to the kitchen for condiments since he enjoys starving us. Farewell Y/N, we’ll catch up another time!”

You stood aside as both Lords brushed past your figure to rush down the hallway in the opposite direction of the kitchen as far as you could remember from your childhood. Pinching your brows with a whimsical expression, you remained standing in the doorway, not wanting to appear any more intruding than you had already proven to be. There was a curt nod from you in the ebony-haired elf’s direction, an awkward action which made no sense, yet proved to ease your nerves.

Tongue in cheek, you eyed the interior of the room before returning your focus to the statue of an elf at the centre. “I liked your words, the declaration of love, I meant. Is it for a play, not that I knew you to be the type of person to engage in those activities, or a song or poem?”

“Yes,” he curtly responded. The most unmanageable response to escape his silvery tongue slipped out. In Ecthelion’s head, he was screaming and attempting to drown himself for his foolish display. In his mind, his day was going from great to good to terrible to I-don’t-know-if-this-should-be-counted. Where and when did you spawn from?

Awkwardly nodding your head at his reply, you raised your brow. “Nice, um, I wanted to personally come here to give this to you,” you murmured and crossed the floor to stand a foot from the centre to hand him an envelope with his name written. “It’s a banquet and my family told me to invite a plus one, so—”

“You thought of me?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

Your face fell at the suddenness of his low confidence. The Ecthelion you knew from yesteryears would not have doubted anyone’s decision to have him as a first choice; this was not your Thel.

“You don’t wish to attend? My apologies, I’ll just take back the invite then.” Your hands made a grab to pry the envelope from his fingers, but he was quicker to move it out of your grasp. Deflating at his actions, you huffed. “Do you want to attend the banquet or not?”

“Yes! But why?”

“W-…Why?! Thel, I haven’t seen you in ages,” you angrily laughed and felt a wave of emotion welling in your throat making it difficult to meet his eyes. “I missed you and I did miss your return because I was busy preparing for the banquet hoping that I could spend the night with you. Chatting, drinking, dancing, or finding a secluded spot away from everyone. I miss you, and I know you miss me too. So come, please.”

You missed him. You missed him. You wanted to spend time with him alone. No better words were spoken from your lips to convince him to stay away. A moment the doors of opportunity opened; this time he was not ignoring it.

Clutching the envelope firmly between his fingers, he smiled. Gingerly nodding his head before breaking into it vigorously, he gave you a look of affection he could not resist. “I’ll be there in my finest wear.”

“Lovely!” you beamed and stared into his eyes. The tears were still brimming your lashes, only in smaller quantities which was less of an issue now that the problem was resolved. “And perhaps you can recite the confession you gave to Egalmoth earlier at the banquet, I’d love to hear it once more, in private.”

Understanding the meaning behind your words, he gave a gentle, yet stiff nod. “Of course,” he breathed with a look of anxiety. “Of course, a confession for you.”

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