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loveanddeepsecrets · 2 months ago

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Aftercare after surgery 🦷

How the LADS men would care for you right after you get your wisdom teeth removed.

OG credit goes to @jinwoosbabyboo. Ty anon for making me aware of this!

tags: sfw, fluff, gn! reader, Sylus, Rafayel, Caleb, Zayne, & Xavier x reader

word count: ≈1,045

Caleb

He'd be the most entertaining knowing how you bore easily. From card games, to video games, to tv marathons, the first few days of recovery fly by.

Insisted you get the procedure done in Skyhaven so you can recover at his place, it’s a lot roomier anyway

Is in stitches laughing on the ride home as you both joke around while you’re still high from the anesthesia

Bought a special recliner for you to sleep on the first night post op

Very attentive caretaker; routinely fluffing your pillows, changing your gauze, and refilling your glass of water

Likes the challenge of cooking a “no solid foods” meal

Is absolutely teasing you over how swollen your cheeks are

Still makes a point to tell you how beautiful you are

Boy, can this man YAP

He knows he can be quite chatty, but can’t resist annoying you a little when you can’t talk back. “…There was that one time I lost a bet with Gideon, but that’s a story for another day. I’ve been talkin’ your ear off for 10 minutes.” “mmph..” “What’s that? You wanna hear more about the bet? Okayyy pipsqueek…”

Massages your temples when the pain meds wear off before you can take them again

Ends up falling asleep next to you in the giant recliner during a Food Network marathon

Rafayel

Raf’s probably the most smothering of the five since he admits he’s not the best at taking care of others and would be mortified if he had any part of your recovery not going well. He’s a lavish man after all, your comfort is important to him.

You resting anywhere other than his California king bed is out of the question!

Is incredibly gentle and soothing when changing out your gauze; lots of words of encouragement

Constantly checking in to make sure you’re comfortable

Tries really hard not to laugh when he uses bags of frozen vegetables as cold compress on your cheeks. Says you look like a cute puffer fish

Keeps forgetting you shouldn’t talk for the first 24 hours but then gets mad when you try answering him when he asks you something

Is really excited for the next couple of days when you can eat more solid foods. He’s been meaning to make you a special fish soup he discovered on one of his exhibitions abroad

Drew a tiny sketch of you as a sleeping puffer fish during your nap

Would literally fan you if you felt too hot

Loses kitty cards on purpose

Since he has you bedridden, he bought several magazines to take silly quizzes bc “That’s what they do in the movies, yeah?”

Zayne

Easily the most equipped to take care of you in this situation let’s be fr. He’s firm, yet gentle and your downtime is quick and painless.

Has you on a tight schedule: nap, rinse, gauze, meds, nap, rinse, eat, gauze, repeat

You don’t even bother trying to speak. He already had a white board and marker placed on your nightstand when you got home from surgery

Has you pick whatever drama you want to watch when you finally slept off the anesthesia

Is even more lenient with the amount of sweets you can have since smoothies are the only “healthy” meal you can eat right after surgery

Is really all cuddles outside of the strict routine of dressing your wounds/taking meds

Shadow puppet show (again 🥲)

Lots and lots of kisses! Cheeks, forehead, eyelids, nose; he just wants you to get better

Places his hands on your cheeks and uses his evol as a cold compress just this once

Secretly counting down the days til he can properly kiss you again

Is still a workaholic and reviewing reports on his laptop, but takes your temporary silence as an opportunity to listen to some of your favourite music together. In a way, it’s like you’re still talking to him

Xavier

He's no medical professional by any means, but he's not as clueless as he lets on. When it comes to your safety and well being, he takes looking after you pretty seriously. Under his care, you get the most sleep you've gotten in your life.

Sets up the pull out couch so you won’t have to walk around as much

Still brought you flowers and a “Get well soon” card, despite the fact that he’s the one taking care of you

Thinks you look especially cute with swollen cheeks and surrounded your sleeping form with plushies mid nap

Is especially proud of himself for making you breakfast and dinner— it’s really hard to mess up instant oatmeal and mashed potatoes

It takes everything within him not to poke your cheeks and say “chubby bunny”

Chooses to play collaborative 2-player games bc he knows you hate it when he lets you win

Gets in bed to join in on your (med induced) naps

Has you snuggle his waist as you two look through comic books

Follows along with your mushy diet because he’d feel so bad eating solid foods in front of you

Thought refrigerating a face mask would be a relaxing alternative to cold compress packs (and of course he tried one too)

Sylus

Full on princess treatment. Quite literally wouldn’t let you lift a finger. It’s as if you had hip replacement surgery.

Refuses to let you walk, even after the anesthesia wears off. He carries you to any and every room

He knows it’s a minor surgery, but it didn’t stop him from buying the fluffiest pillows, comfiest weighted blankets, plushiest robe, and smoothest silk eye mask

Brushes/ plays with your hair while you sleep

Despite your temporary dietary restrictions, you still eat like a Michelin inspector thanks to his private chef

Spoon feeds you

Is the only LI aside from Caleb who can understand your muffled speech

Programmed Mephisto to set reminders to take your meds and switch out your gauze

Tucks you in *every time* you decide to lay back in bed

Turned one of his rooms into a spa. Dark, yet calming from the soft lighting of candles, crystal singing bowls from a white noise machine, and aromatherapy

Relishes in you earnestly needing his help

Bought out a full service salon for the next day to give you every service they offer

fic dividers by: saradika-graphics, adornedwithlight, strangergraphics, & natimiles-edits

Thanks for reading all the way through :) Any interaction is greatly appreciated!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 24 days ago

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Stark Contrast 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, lies, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online friend isn't who he claims to be.

Characters: Tony Stark

Sister series to Captain's Orders

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It's been a long day. Every day seems longer than the last. All that overtime is adding up. It's needling right at the base of your neck.

Unclench your jaw. You keep forgetting. The pressure makes your head hurt. You rub your eye socket and yawn as you drag your feet down the dark pavement.

You approach your building and look at the heel of your hand, mascara smeared on your skin, no doubt across your face too. Oh well, you're home. Not necessarily the perfect haven but a place to be alone.

You bob in the elevator to the music in your headphones. You step off and keep your head down in a lazy shuffle down the hallway. You unlock your door and spin inside, letting the song play out as you hang your jacket and purse. You kick of your sneakers and drift into the kitchen, mindlessly searching for something quick to eat.

You detach your headphones from your phone and take them off. You let the music drone as you mull over the effort to cook a box of processed mac and cheese. You pause the music and scroll through your feed. Nothing interesting. You let a live feed play. You never pay much attention to the new but it's good white noise.

You pull down your notification bar. Oh shoot. You forgot to answer the last message.

You'd been chatting with Eddie during your lunch but had to get back to the grind. Those bougie middle-aged women won't find those overpriced candles themselves. Then they'll complain that the Martha Stewart limited edition is sold out. Oh, to have such simple problems.

You blink as the video plays in a little box floating over the chat.

'Sorry. Got caught up at work. Just seeing this now. Hope you have a good night.' You send the message and pull the video into fullscreen.

He doesn't always answer at night. Or sometimes for days. He's pretty busy. An engineer or something. You met on some discord when Elden Ring dropped.

You narrow your eyes at the stream. You swear every time you see a screen, Tony Stark is on it. There he is now, giving a presser to a fawning crowd of reporters.

He claps his hand to his chest pocket and gives a subtle look down as he slides out his phone. He drops it back in and shrugs at his adoring audience, "I'm a busy guy, what can I say?"

They laugh, unbothered by his distraction. You turn back to your search for an easy meal. Oh, you still have that frozen pizza. This late, it'll make your chest burn in the morning but you don't care.

You preheat the oven and go to your phone, agitated by the murmur of the reporters and their softball questions. You don't have a problem with the man or his mighty band of Avengers, hey, they do their best. It's this whole celebrity shell around them. The sort that has half the population is a dysfunctional parasocial relationship.

You switch to a reality show that pits home bakers against each other. It's a bad choice. It stokes your already twisting hunger and sparks your sweet tooth. You never shy away from a treat. Good thing you don't have any.

The stove beeps as the subtle smell of smoke rises. You figure it's not that bad if the alarm isn't going. You put the pizza in and swipe up your phone. You pace around and check your news feed. There's a new Amiibo out. Nope, you will not get suckered into another money grab. You're save. Not for anything special, just rent. Another price hike. The next one might put you out.

You pizza finishes and your phone buzzes. You cut it into uneven slices and take a few on a paper towel. You flop onto the couch and read Eddie's response.

'I get it. Probably out on a date with a hot guy. Or lady. No judgment.'

You shake your head. He's such and idiot sometimes. 'Nah. You're awake?'

'You know I don't sleep.'

You wouldn't guess it by his erratic responses. If anything, you'd only assume he doesn't keep a routine. His bouts of activity are unpredictable.

'Let's not talk about work.' He replies before you can. The next message is a mood. 'I'm over it.'

'Sure. What do we talk about? You gonna help me co-op Starscourge Radahn? You never log on anymore.'

Your phone quakes as an audio call comes in. You nearly drop it as you opt to save the slice of pizza in your other hand first. You finally hit answer with your greasy thumb.

"Fair warning, I'm eating. I'm flipping starving," you say.

"You sound ravenous," Eddie says. "So, what's for... a very late dinner?"

"Pizza. Spinach and mozzarella."

"Order in?"

"Frozen," you mutter.

"Gross," he remarks. He's a bit of a snob. "You coulda hit me up. I'd send you some money for real food. I'm sure you've got a few shwarma places around that hellhole."

"Har har. If I'm so poor, why do you talk to me?"

"Good question. Can I think about it?" He snickers as you roll your eyes. "Look, sweetheart, I'm sorry about the video game--"

"You know, you sound like my dad."

"I do?" He nearly yelps.

"Sweetheart this. Video games. You talk like you were born in the 60s."

"I heard the 60s were pretty hip," he laughs.

"Hip? Oh you're definitely a catfish," you tease.

"How do I know you're not some desperate housewife using me for kicks?" He accuses.

"I sent you pics," you say.

"I've sent mine too," he retorts. "Alright, only solution here is to admit we're both catfish. You want me to order you good food and I want... uh, well, you're a good distraction."

"A good distraction? That's it?" You huff. "Thanks, Ed."

"I'm playing. You know I like you. I was just on my way to meet this tall blonde and I called you instead."

"Sure you were," you hiss. "You know, I had too long a day for you to be so annoying."

He cackles. You smile, just a bit. He really can be a butt. You don't know why you talk to him.

"How's the pizza? You want me to order you some real stuff yet?"

"Eddie," you sigh. It's a nice offer but you're not stupid. You don't give people on the internet your address. "That's too much."

"It's really not," he insists.

"To me it is." You drop the pizza and paper towel on the lone TV table by your ratty sofa. "You know, I get it, you're trying to be nice, but... you just kinda make me feel..."

"What? I make you feel... some sort of way, so that's good, right?"

"Ugh, don't. I get it, alright? I'm poor. Trash," you cross your arms and sit back. "Go and meet the tall blonde and have your fancy five star dinner."

He's quiet, "I was only messing with you."

"Well, maybe you should stop," you say as you sit forward and talk directly into your phone. "You obviously don't have the time for me. And a lot more important friends so--"

"Hey, come on, it's a joke--"

You hit end and toss your phone to the other end of the couch. You already know you overreacted. Shoot. Ugh.

It's just that stupid woman today, yelling at you over a bunny ornament, like the fact that is was put on the wrong shelf is your fault. You organise the shelves constantly but people don't care. They don't read either.

Your phone jitters again. You ignore and get up. You pack away the leftover pizza and put it in the fridge. That's your dinner for tomorrow, if not the next day.

God, why does he have to rub his money in your face? His super fun life. He went to Tokyo last week on a work trip.

You're a bitch. Insecure at that. It's probably best you cut free now. You wouldn't want to project all that on him. Besides, it's starting to feel like he only talks to you to make himself feel better. He shouldn't need that much help.

❤️

It's your own fault. You know it. Your worst and best trait is your crippling self-awareness. You know what you are, how you are, but it doesn't make it better.

You feel bad. You always do. Even if you're right, you feel rotten. You just don't like being like that. And what did Eddie do but joke around?

Did he have to keep offering to pay for you? Or mention that tall blonde?

Sigh. Just focus. You go back to putting the throw pillows back into the display basket. You watched a pair of kids toss them around for the last hour.

Life isn't easy and you should stop expecting it to be. That's your problem. You can't settle for what you have.

Julie, your manager comes by as you set the last of the pillows on those nearly overflowing the basket. You smile. She scowls.

"Your name tag's upside down," she points to your chest.

You look down. Oh jeez. You flip it around.

"Dress code infraction. Next time, I'll write you up." She warns.

"Sorry," you frown.

"There's customers. Smile."

As if one cue, the automatic doors open. You busy yourself with the next display, as if the napkin rings are that interesting. Julie snaps her fingers at Casey. He sniffs and tries to act like he didn't smoke up before he punched in.

"You're the greeter. Mind doing some greeting," she hisses.

"Oh, yeah," he stands and struts away from the lawn chair display, "hey, dude, like, hi. Welcome to The Home Hub. Anything I can help you-- woah, no way."

He starts laughing. You peek over your shoulder as Julie sighs. Casey coughs and clears his throat, "bro, am I high or is this dude Iron Man?"

You turn and narrow your eyes at the man. Goatee, sunglasses, a nice suit. He bears a striking resemblance to the man behind the podium at he presser the night before. You tilt your head. That's impossible.

"Casey, go to the warehouse and start downstocking," Julie sneers as she stomps forward. "I'm so sorry, sir. We-- Oh, oh. Oh my god, it is him."

She swoons and fans herself. Your eyes go wide as you give a goof smile. She's ridiculous.

"Hey, sweetheart," he purrs at her. "I'm looking for uh, a..." he takes off his sunglasses and glances around, "a bath mat."

"Bath mat? Uh. Oh, er..."

"You," he points in your direction. You turn to look for someone else behind you. "Show me."

You face him and Julie gives you a crazed sneer. You step away from the napkin rings. "Sure, uh, sir, they're in the back."

"Amazing," he winks as he approaches. There's something about his cadence. You never noticed on the screen, but it's familiar?

"Tony Stark, but I'm sure you already know," he says as he comes up next to you.

You continue down the centre aisle and nod, "yep, uh, kinda."

"Kinda?" He wonders.

"I mean, you're Iron Man or something, right?"

"Or something," he chortles. "You know what, on the second hand," he stops and checks out a silver statue of a naked Grecian goddess, "I think I came for this." He traces along her tits. "Don't make em like they used to, huh?"

He looks at you. No, he looks at your chest. You sputter.

"Bath mats are this way," you turn.

"Ah, come on, don't be like that FinchiePie."

You stop short. Your lashes flick and you gulp. How does he know your user name. You turn to look at him.

He adjusts his tie as he comes closer.

"You know, my middle name is Edward. Anthony Edward Stark."

You stare at him. No, it can't be. That's ridiculous.

"Eddie?" You rasp.

He puts his hands out and smirks, "it's a cute nickname, isn't it?"

"No."

"You left things a little tense. I don't like untied ends so..."

"It's a joke. A prank," you shake your head. "Is this what you do for fun?"

"I'm a funny guy, sweetheart, but I'm not joking right now," he comes closer. "Look, if I tell you the truth, that there was no tall blonde, that I was lying, will you give me a chance?"

You search his face. You're lost. Your disbelief muddles reality.

"This isn't real."

"You ever tried shwarma? It's so damn good."

"No, Eddie-- No, Tony?" Your eyes flit back and forth. "I... I gotta..." you spin and scurry away.

He calls your name. You can't stop. You run down the bath aisle and into the employee restroom. You twist the lock and stare at your baffled reflection.

"What the fuck?" You ask the person in the mirror.

#tony stark #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #tony stark x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #stark contrast #avengers #iron man #mcu #marvel

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misanahrs · 22 days ago

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just the two of us —minatozaki sana.

now playing: moonstruck - enhypen.

synopsis - from the moment minatozaki sana steps into your studio, she’s utterly smitten. shamelessly flirting at every opportunity, she’s determined to win you over, but she doesn’t expect to fall this hard. between teasing exchanges, stolen glances, and a first date filled with laughter and flustered moments, sana realises she’s completely, hopelessly in love.

pairing - minatozaki sana x fem reader.

you’ve always been comfortable behind the camera. there’s a quiet kind of power in being the observer rather than the observed, in capturing the world through a lens without having to stand in its spotlight. you’ve worked with dozens of models before—beautiful people who know exactly how to command attention—but none have ever made you forget how to breathe.

and then, minatozaki sana steps into your studio.

she is a vision draped in golden afternoon light, her presence soft yet impossibly magnetic, as if she’s been sculpted from the very concept of warmth itself. her hair spills over her shoulders in silken waves, catching the glow of the setting sun filtering through the tall windows. her eyes, deep and rich with unspoken mischief, find yours immediately. she smiles, and it feels like the room itself tilts slightly off its axis.

“are you always this quiet,” she muses, tilting her head as she watches you adjust your camera settings, “or am i just too stunning for words?” her voice is lilting, teasing, as if she’s testing you—seeing how much power she holds in a game she’s only just begun.

you swallow, steadying yourself with a deep breath. “i just concentrate when i work,” you reply, trying to keep your tone even, though you can already feel the edges of your composure fraying.

but sana doesn’t miss a thing.

“ohh,” she hums, stepping closer, her gaze flickering over you like she’s mapping out something precious. “so if i weren’t your model, would you talk to me more?”

the air in the room shifts. her perfume—soft, floral, something like jasmine and vanilla—lingers between you, making your thoughts feel syrupy and slow.

“would you go on a date with me if i weren’t your model?” she asks, voice lighter now, almost playful, but there’s something else beneath it. something real.

your breath hitches. your fingers twitch over the shutter button.

click.

you don’t even realise you’ve pressed it until sana’s lips curve into a delighted grin.

“did you just take a picture of me flirting with you?” she giggles, and god, the sound is musical. light. intoxicating.

your face heats instantly. you clear your throat, lowering the camera, but sana’s eyes are still locked onto yours, shimmering with something unreadable. “you should focus, minatozaki,” you say, grasping at professionalism, at anything that might keep you from completely losing your cool.

but she only leans in a fraction closer, voice honey-sweet. “but i am focusing,” she whispers. “on you.”

and suddenly, it feels like you are the one being captured—pinned beneath the weight of her attention, forever frozen in a moment you’re not sure you ever want to escape from.

⸻

ii:

from that moment on, every photoshoot becomes a battle. sana finds new ways to fluster you—throwing winks over her shoulder, blowing kisses between shots, letting her hands travel over your body and rest in various places when she analyses the images you took of her, casually complimenting you in ways that seem far too genuine to be simple teasing.

one afternoon, as you’re reviewing the photos from your latest session, sana leans in over your shoulder, her presence warm and distracting. “these look amazing,” she says, her voice softer than usual. then, after a pause, she tilts her head. “but something’s missing.”

you frown slightly, studying the screen,not very used to your skills being criticised as a top photographer. “what is it?”

she grins, and you know you’ve walked straight into a trap. “me, taking you out to dinner after this.”

you blink. her confidence is unwavering, as always, but there’s something in her expression—something softer, more sincere.

“one date, y/n,” she presses gently, nudging your arm. “just one. if you don’t fall for me by the end of it, i’ll stop flirting.”

you hesitate. “you promise?”

sana smirks. “no,” she says easily. “because i already know you’ll fall for me.”

and, if you’re being honest, you might have already fallen.

⸻

iii:

you don’t know how she does it, but sana somehow manages to find the most intimate little restaurant in the city—the kind of place that feels like a well-kept secret, tucked away between winding alleyways and ivy-covered brick walls.

soft candlelight flickers against the wooden tabletops, casting golden reflections in the deep amber of sana’s eyes. the air hums with the quiet murmur of conversations, the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic, the distant notes of a love song drifting from an old record player in the corner.

and sana—god, sana is radiant.

she pulls your chair out for you, exaggeratedly chivalrous, and when you raise an unimpressed eyebrow, she only grins.

“see?” she says, settling into her seat. “i’m a perfect date already.”

you shake your head, but there’s no stopping the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re something, alright.”

dinner is a dance between effortless charm and absolute chaos. sana is a natural flirt, shameless and relentless in her teasing, she speaks about herself and her journey with twice—momentarily stating that this was a restaurant the girls used to come to as trainees—but she listens, too—really listens. she asks about your favourite places to photograph, about the moments that make your heart swell behind the lens. she hums in understanding when you describe the way golden-hour light makes everything feel softer, more alive.

and then, just when you think she’s nothing but smooth edges and practiced confidence, she knocks over her glass.

her eyes widen in pure, mortified horror as water spills across the table, ice cubes bouncing onto the floor with a soft clatter. “i— i meant to do that,” she blurts out, frantically grabbing at napkins in a desperate attempt to undo the damage.

you laugh, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it, and suddenly the night feels even lighter, easier.

“sure you did,” you tease, watching as she hues of pink begin to lightly coat the apple of her cheeks.

she pouts, cheeks flushed, eyes flickering between yours and the now-damp tablecloth. “stop looking at me like that. i’m supposed to be dazzling you, not embarrassing myself.”

you hesitate, then, and before you can overthink it, you let yourself smile. “you’re still dazzling,” you admit softly.

sana freezes.

her lips part slightly, as if she hadn’t been expecting you to say it out loud. her fingers curl slightly against the table, her breath catching just enough for you to notice. the same light pink on her cheeks deepen.

and for once, it is her who is flustered.

“so…” she clears her throat, her voice just a little quieter now. “does that mean i get a second date?”

you lean back, pretending to consider it. “hmm,” you hum, tapping your chin. “maybe.”

sana gasps, placing a hand over her heart like you’ve just shattered her. “maybe?” she repeats dramatically. “i’ll just have to work harder, then.”

and work harder she does.

⸻

iv:

it happens after a photoshoot—one where sana had been softer than usual, where her touches lingered just a little too long, where her laughter felt like something only meant for you.

the studio is quiet now, save for the faint hum of the city outside. sana stands a few steps away, shifting on her feet, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

“y/n,” she starts, then stops. exhales. tries again. “i know i’ve been flirting with you since the moment we met,” she says, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, like she’s suddenly afraid of the words leaving her lips. “and i know i said i wanted to win you over but…”

she glances up at you then, and you realise—she’s nervous.

minatozaki sana, who has always been confident, always been bold, always been so sure of herself—she is nervous.

“i think you’ve actually won me over instead,” she murmurs. your breath catches. “i really like you,” she continues, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “and i don’t just want to flirt with you. i want to be yours. properly.”

silence stretches between you, heavy and fragile, until you finally take a step forward.

you take her hand.

“you already are.”

sana blinks. her lips part slightly. “huh?”

you squeeze her fingers, warmth spreading from your chest outward. “yours. i already am.”

her face floods with colour. “oh my god,” she whispers, pressing both hands over her burning face. “did i just get confessed to?”

you laugh, heart full.

“i was supposed to be the smooth one!” she wails.

you squeeze her hand again. “guess i beat you at your own game, minatozaki.”

and minatozaki sana—hopeless romantic, self-proclaimed flirt, and now, completely, utterly smitten—finally gets her happy ending.

⸻

epilogue: your moments with sana.

mornings with sana are slow, filled with warm limbs tangled beneath soft sheets, the scent of fresh linen mixing with the faint hint of her vanilla shampoo. sunlight spills through the curtains, painting golden patches on the bed, and sana—your beautiful, sleepy girlfriend—buries her face against your neck with a soft hum of protest when you try to move.

“nooo,” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep, arms tightening around you. “don’t leave.”

you laugh softly, brushing your fingers through her tousled hair. “we have to, baby. you have a schedule.”

sana groans dramatically, pulling you even closer, as if she can physically stop time. “five more minutes,” she pleads, but you know from experience that five minutes always turns into fifteen, then thirty.

you press a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then the tip of her nose, and finally, her lips—lingering just long enough to feel her melt into it. her lips curl into a sleepy smile. “mmm. okay. maybe i’ll get up for more of that.”

you shake your head, amused. “bribing you with kisses now?”

she peeks up at you with a cheeky grin. “it’s very effective, don’t you think?”

you roll your eyes, but you still kiss her again—because really, who could resist?

⸻

ii:

it happens on an ordinary evening. nothing extravagant, no grand gestures—just the two of you curled up on the sofa, a forgotten movie playing in the background while sana absentmindedly traces patterns on your arm with her fingertips.

you’re not even talking, just existing together in comfortable silence, when she suddenly sighs—soft and dreamy—like she’s realising something for the first time.

“i love you.”

the words come so naturally, so effortlessly, that it takes a moment for them to fully sink in. you turn to her, heart stuttering, and find her already looking at you, eyes warm and filled with something deeper than anything she’s ever said before.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so genuine. so completely, helplessly in love.

“say it again,” you whisper.

she smiles, shy but certain. “i love you.”

and you don’t hesitate—not for a second—before cupping her face and pressing your forehead to hers. “i love you too, sana.”

she beams, then giggles, then kisses you so sweetly that you wonder how you ever lived before knowing what her love feels like.

⸻

iii:

being a photographer for vogue is always an honour, but being the photographer for twice’s first full-group cover? that’s a dream. a dream that becomes even sweeter when your girlfriend, minatozaki sana, is part of it.

the studio buzzes with energy—stylists making last-minute adjustments, makeup artists perfecting the girls’ looks, and the members themselves, effortlessly beautiful and glowing under the bright lights.

sana, of course, had been smug the moment she found out you were the assigned photographer.

“guess i’ll be your favourite model today,” she had teased that morning, standing in your doorway, dressed in her robe, eyes sparkling.

but now? now it’s a different story.

“yahhh, look at sana!” nayeon sing-songs as you adjust your lens, a playful smirk already forming on her lips. “she’s posing extra hard for y/n.”

“it’s true!” jeongyeon chimes in. “look at her! she’s gazing.”

“our sana is so in love,” momo teases, nudging her.

sana, to your delight, actually starts turning pink.

you decide to take it a step further.

you lower your camera slightly, tilting your head in mock curiosity. “hmm… sana-ssi, could you maybe… pose less seductively?” you say, as if genuinely concerned. “you’re making it very hard to focus on my work.”

the studio erupts with laughter.

sana’s jaw drops. her face turns an even deeper shade of red as she swats at you. “y/n!” she squeaks, her confident facade completely crumbling.

“ohhhh my god,” chaeyoung wheezes. “tables have turned.”

dahyun claps her hands. “this is a historic moment.”

sana buries her face in her hands. “i hate you,” she mumbles, but the way she’s smiling says otherwise.

you grin, stepping closer, lowering your voice just for her. “no, you don’t.”

she peeks at you through her fingers, playfully pouting. “okay, fine. i don’t.”

you press a quick kiss to her cheek before stepping back. “now, be a good model and let me take your picture, minatozaki.”

and, despite her embarrassment, sana absolutely melts.

⸻

iv:

it’s late. the kind of late where the world feels a little softer, where everything slows down, where love lingers in the quietest corners of your home.

you and sana stand in the kitchen, the glow of the refrigerator casting long shadows across the floor, soft music playing from your phone. she’s wearing one of your hoodies, sleeves hanging past her hands, hair a little messy from where she’s been leaning against your shoulder just moments before.

you reach for her, fingers curling around her waist. she sighs happily, letting you pull her close.

and then, without thinking, you start to sway.

it’s not a proper dance—just the two of you, barefoot and tangled in each other’s arms, moving to a song that neither of you know the words to. but it doesn’t matter.

sana hums softly, her cheek pressed against your shoulder. “this is nice,” she murmurs.

you press a kiss to her hair. “yeah?”

she nods, tightening her arms around you.

“you make everything nice,” she whispers.

your heart swells.

you don’t respond with words—you don’t need to. instead, you hold her closer, press your lips to her temple, and continue to sway in the quiet, in the warmth, in the love that neither of you ever want to end.

and minatozaki sana—your shameless flirt, your hopeless romantic, your home—smiles like she’s never been happier

#sana x fem reader #minatozaki sana x reader #sana x reader #twice sana x reader #twice sana #sana twice #girl group x female reader #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twice fluff #twice angst #twice smut #twice scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop gg #twice imagines #sana is down bad #sana is a flirt

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mashtatosworld · 1 month ago

Text

the pursuit

summary: you met him on the set of 'lets not fall in love' - yet you did everything but that

*the start of the 'back to you' series

You’d barely stepped onto set when you felt it - the way his gaze found you immediately, lingering long enough to make your stomach tighten.

Gdragon didn’t introduce himself at first.

He didn’t need to.

He just leaned against the edge of a prop wall, cigarette tucked between his fingers, assessing you.

You weren’t an actress - you’d made that abundantly clear when your agency first floated the idea of you being GDragon’s partner for the Let’s Not Fall In Love video.

But they assured you it would be natural, just soft glances and playful moments, no choreography, no lines - just chemistry.

The kind that could make viewers believe something was there even if nothing was.

And he made that easy.

You tried not to look at him too much between takes. Tried not to focus on the way his gaze felt heavy on your skin, even when you weren’t the one in front of the camera.

GDragon was effortless - a natural magnet, pulling attention with every charming grin. You were… not.

You were new to the industry.

Shiny and unsure, trying to fit yourself into the shape of someone who belonged here.

The rain scene was the worst of it.

Cold water cascading down as you held each other, his hand firm on your waist, the other trailing along your wrist until your fingers intertwined. His touch was light, barely there - but somehow you felt it everywhere.

It was like your body was naturally drawn to his heat.

You were shivering, trying to hide it, smile frozen and cheeks aching. You could feel his nose skim the side of your face, his damp shirt clinging to his chest.

The camera rolled, but all you could think about was how his thumb felt on your hip, firm, and anchoring.

“Cut! Take a break everyone.”

You exhaled sharply, stepping back so fast you almost tripped over the cables. Jiyong stayed still, watching you, tongue running over his lower lip - like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

It was only when you were wrapped in a towel, sat to the side, waiting for them to release you as they reviewed the footage that he finally approached.

You didn’t expect him to notice your notebook.

You’d been scribbling between takes, half to distract yourself from how intensely aware you were of him, and half because songwriting was your real passion - even if your label didn’t believe you were ready yet.

Jiyong slid onto the bench beside you, casually resting his arms on his legs as he glanced at your lap. “What are you always writing in there?”

You froze. “Just... ideas.”

“For songs?” His brow lifted, curiosity flickering through the playful smile.

You nodded, heart hammering. “I want to focus more on music than modelling. But it's not any good - ”

“Let me see.” He held out his hand, palm up, fingers adorned with silver rings.

You hesitated.

He’d written some of the most iconic songs of the decade - his praise could make or break you. But something about the way he was watching you, genuinely interested, made you slowly pass him the notebook.

He read in silence, brow furrowed, thumb tracing the corner of the page. When he looked up, his smile had softened. “These are good.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, closing the notebook and tapping it against his knee. “Come to my studio sometime. I’ll help.”

“Why would you do that?” You meant it as a genuine question. He was at the peak of his career, churning out songs for his solo album and band. And you were... a ripple in his ocean.

His smile turned lazy, teasing. “Because I want to.”

And somehow, that was enough.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You told yourself he’d forget - that it was just a line, something to pass the time between takes. But a day later, your phone lit up with a notification.

[unknown number] Still want help? - Jiyong

You debated ignoring it.

Every article you’d ever read about him flashed through your mind - the scandals, on-again-off-again exes, the late-night clubs. But you rationalised your thoughts.

It wasn't like you were going to get personal with him. This would be strictly business...

So you messaged back.

And you were glad you had ignored the influence of media headlines because the first session was when you truly met Jiyong, not GDragon.

You hovered near the door of his studio, notebook clutched to your chest like a shield. He was different here - hair messy, hoodie low over his face, cigarette dangling from his fingers and a casual smile that only grew when he saw you.

“You’re late.”

“I wasn’t sure I should come.”

His smile didn’t falter. “I'm glad you did.”

You sat beside him, the scent of leather and smoke and something distinctly him wrapping around you. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just played a beat, soft and stripped down, and said, “Sing something.”

Your throat was dry, hands shaking - but you did.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

It was always late when he called.

You’d be lying in bed, makeup off, notebook balanced on your knees, when your phone would light up.

[jiyong] Studio tonight x

No please. No explanation. Just an offer you somehow always accepted.

He’d be sprawled on the couch, cigarette smouldering in the ashtray, laptop open with half-finished beats echoing softly.

“I've got a new idea,” he’d say, voice rough from hours of talking to no one.

You’d sit next to him - never too close, yet as time would pass his knee would somehow be pressed against yours. It felt deliberate. Everything with him felt deliberate.

You were writing one night - half asleep, pen dragging across the page - when you felt it.

His fingers.

Just the tips, playing with the ends of your hair. Light, curious, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

He didn’t hide his interest. Not even a little.

There was no slow-build - no confusing signals.

Jiyong wanted you, in a way that made it impossible to pretend you were imagining things.

“You’re scared of me.” He said it casually, during your third session after he had pulled your chair closer to his - dragging it by the legs.

“No, I’m not.”

“Liar.”

You glared at him, but he just grinned, all bad-boy charm and impossible warmth. “You’ll get used to me.”

He wasn’t wrong.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The song - your song - dropped a week after Let’s Not Fall In Love hit the charts.

He had gifted it to you, passing over the rights entirely despite his effort and inputs. It was yours to do as you pleased.

You decided against a music video or promotional press, just a quiet link posted on Jiyong’s Instagram at 3:14am with no caption.

By noon, it was trending.

The comments were split - some fans insisting you were the new girl he was seeing, others trying to figure out who the hell you were. No one could agree on what you were to him. A muse? A collaborator? A random model who got lucky?

You knew the truth - you were his project.

His distraction.

The shiny new thing he couldn’t stop poking at.

You kept a measured distance, even as your inbox filled with interview requests and producers asking to meet. You hadn’t expected this to happen - not so fast, not this loud.

Your agency was thrilled.

They called you "lucky."

You weren’t sure luck was the word.

This was a pursuit.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The rumours started when someone caught you leaving his building at 5am, his jacket hanging off your shoulders.

Your agency had freaked out.

“It’s nothing,” you said in a meeting the next day, heart pounding as you forced yourself to sound casual. “We’re just writing.”

They didn’t believe you.

You didn’t believe you.

Because “just writing” didn’t explain the way he leaned into you when you sat at the mic, adjusting your headphones himself, fingers lingering against your jaw.

“Just writing” didn’t explain how he always walked you to the elevator, even when there were a dozen staff around who could’ve done it.

“Just writing” didn’t explain why your heart pounded every time you saw his name light up your phone.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The first time you performed your duet you were shaking so badly you nearly dropped the mic.

It was meant to be a one-off stage appearence.

A fan treat.

A casual collaboration.

But he added it as a staple part of his setlist.

The moment Jiyong walked out, hand in pocket, signature smirk pulling at his lips, the crowd screamed like they already knew what was to come.

He stood too close.

His eyes followed your every move.

And when the bridge hit, his hand found your lower back, pulling you into him like the cameras didn’t exist.

When the performance ended, he leaned down and whispered, “See? Told you we’re perfect together.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The internet spiralled.

Edits of you and Jiyong flooded every corner of social media - the rain scene from the music video, the too-close moments on stage, the way his hand never quite left your body. Every time he looked at you, fans slowed it down, captioning it:

He’s obsessed.

He’s soft.

He’s in love.

You tried to brush it off.

At first, you were worried he’d hate the rumours - the idea of being tied to a rookie, someone unproven, someone with no legacy.

But instead, he leaned into it.

He started requesting you at festivals.

He refused to perform the song with anyone else.

And during interviews, when asked about his ideal type, he’d just laugh - low and knowing - and say, “Who do you think?”

He was pursuing you in public, no apologies, no caution.

And it worked.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Within months, the rumours stopped being rumours.

You were inseparable - a constant presence at each other’s sides, onstage and off. The industry might’ve called you reckless, but neither of you cared.

It was fast.

It was intense.

It was everything.

And by the time he slipped that ring on your finger, eight months after your first songs release - in a quiet moment between tour stops, both of you tangled up in the same hotel bed you hadn’t left all day - you knew.

You’d never stood a chance.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

no wonder she's so loved, diva was ten years in the making!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

#bigbang #kpop #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader

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mehiwilldoitlater · 20 days ago

Text

((i over did it this time, requested by @silenthopper ))

His digit tapped on the giant table,a sign that his patience was getting low, his optics glued on you, waiting for every kind of move that had required you to do. He was getting impatient…

Especially since he had just asked you something trivial and simple knowing your ability, which he had deemed to be good since he had seen you plenty of times during your lessons.

Skywarp wasn't someone fond of the earthling culture that he had been subjected to during this long time on earth; he had been influenced. Just a few of them, mostly because Thundercracker introduced them to him, but he had never taken the initiative until that night.

It was during one of those boring nights when he, Thundercracker, and Starscream could finally take some time off and review how stupid humans were on the television, one of the few things those flashies did right. It was during one complaint from Starscream and one reply from Thundercracker that the jammy session was abruptly interrupted by Skywarp when they landed on a curious channel, where some humans were acting in such a strange way. They were moving around, accompanied by music, but it wasn't moving per se; it was…different.

Their dresses, things he realized were used to cover the airless ape, were floating with every movement they made, remembering the one that Nebulous does in deep space. They spun on the wooden floor like they were gliding in the skies; their jump ended in those small types on their foot that seemed almost impossible, and they were able to do that with a simplicity that seemed unreal.

Starscream's sound of annoyance was a sign that he was ready to change the channel, if it wasn't for Skywarp's fastness to tear away the remote from his servo.

"Hey!"

"I want to see, shut up!"

Starscream tried to complain, but Skywarp was far too concentrated on that. He started to make questions, which they found answers to by looking on the internet.

"It's ballet," said Thundercracker. "They say it's a form of dance here on earth."

"Do they breed them with feet like that?"

"They don't breed other humans. It's just that they use special shoes, and they train a lot to achieve those skills."

He was used to thinking that humans were clumsy and primitive; well, they were still primitive in his eyes, but he started to doubt the first adjective.

He became fascinated with this kind of art. Until he started to search for it on the same internet, viewing videos of small pieces and interesting shows. The other Decepticons had indeed noticed this small obsession, and, of course, they didn't live to just pest him about it. But he didn't care; he was fascinated! Even more!

However, at some point, the videos weren't enough. He wanted to see them closely; see how they do this! And that's how you ended up in that terrifying situation.

He didn't choose you for any particular reason; you were just the one that caught his eyes the most! He wasn't that smart; he knew that, but on this matter, he wanted at least to commit to it, so, with the small knowledge he had, he had observed that important dance school, taking notes of the students and the teachers, and there he had found you!

You weren't the prettiest; you were good like everyone else, and you weren't the next star of the ballet, but you have that spark, that will that leads you to stay longer and practice, to always aim to be better, to try and try again.

He knew that spark, and he knew that you were good. He just waited for you to get late enough and��well, you knew the rest.

And now there you were, Trapped in his quarters, completely frozen in fear for what kind of things this thing wanted to do to you.

As said before, he wasn't stupid. He knew that taking you without theknowledge of anyone was a risk, mostly for him since youronly end would havee been to be crushed to death by someone, but him? He didn't wanto risk his position in Megatron's eyes. No one knew you were there, and he wanted to keep it that way, but the more you kept on just staying there the your eyes fixed on the table, the more the chance for him of being caught was rising.

"So? What are you waiting for?!"

He raised his voice; you gasped again, feeling your heart racing in your chest with ore strength thanbefore. You couldn't even sense if you were breathing at all. He even forced you to change into your practice attire and, excluding point shoes, which he seemed to have devoured,he had give you little privacy. You took your time, not because you were trying to defy him but because your hands were shaking so much that you needed more than one time to fix the slippers correctly. He asked a lot of questions, but the fear made you obvious of his curiosity.

"What's wrong with those feet?" He pointed to your old scars and some fresh blisters.

You loosed the grip on the laces, trembling , while you tried to tie them again and respond without stuttering.

"…O-old…old wounds…from my…f-first pointed …"

"Ah... I thought your feet could adapt..." He looked closer, studying other details of his fascination.

"They…they do not…"

He frowned in disgust; there it goes from the window, a nice thing that he did like about the fleshy.

"All right, hurry up! I don't have all day!"

With another gasp and some more attempts, you were finally able to tie your shoe to your feet.

At that moment what you really wanted was to hide somewhere, close your eyes, and believe that everything that was happening was just a horrible nightmare induced by the stress, but it was when you needed to take some breath and when you felt a pressure on your shoulder blades, followed then by the feeling of emptiness under your legs, that you realized that everything was just out of question. When your two scared eyes met the two tempered, glass-like eyes he had, it was then that you noticed that you were face-to-face with the Decepticon that had just captured you that day.

You couldn't breathe correctly, your skin was crawling, and you were paralyzed by the fear of him that you didn't even dare to try to catch his gigantic fingers to avoid every possible fall that would be fatal or at least very painful at that height. He started to turn you around, rising you up more, using his free hand to move some fabric of your chiffon gown, a somewhat confused look on his face.

"This is so bland; what about the pretty ones?"

"P-pr…pretty ones?"

"Yeah! The ones with glitters! Or this thing that grows on the ground! That move and a swish! Or the one that stays up and rigid!"

"Y-you mean the tutus?"

"SNORT! Stupid name… yeah, those ones!"

"TH-Those are…stage costumes. I—I don't…have any—"

"SERIOUSLY?! Ugh…" he finally put you down again, clearly dissatisfied by this knowledge. "Well, this one will do. Now go on…"

You stayed there, still completely without clues on what that creep wanted from you. His eyes were still glued on your small figure, with that same annoyed expression, waiting. Your fingernails were scratching your hands as you looked at him, waiting to receive whatever directive you needed and hoping to not let him get angrier.

He started to think that you were denser than he was, but then he realized that he did forget something! Reaching for his datapad, he selected a folder, then put the screen in front of you.

"There, choose one." You looked to him, still full of questions. "These are the ones you've been practicing. Choose one, all right? And stop mobbing around."

You followed his giant finger and…

Wait, what did he just say?

You start to look at the pad; it was a full list of music titles coming from various works from the classical genre, and almost all of them were for the ballet. Why did he have so many titles? Then, analyzing his words, you noticed that he had clearly said that he knew that you practiced those pieces! You try to avoid getting into a full panic; maybe he just used the wrong words! Those were pieces that you did practice, but many other dancers did too! Of course, yes, that was the most—

"So?!"

"GHYA!" You chose without even thinking; you just wanted to convey at that moment that you didn't care to even put an effort into it. When the music started, you could recognize those violins that screamed between the small moments of silence.

"The cat?" His expression stayed between annoyed and curious.

"…Y-yes?" How did he know that that piece was in fact about two cats in Sleeping Beauty? His rise is what you thought were his shoulders. As long as you were going to perform for him, everything was good. He would have chosen later.

"Alright, so the cats got it…" Skywarp took a more relaxed position, his arms raised with his servos behind his head. He would have put his feet on the table, but he wanted to give you enough space for your movement. A satisfied grin rested on his face.

"You can start whenever you want."

… What?… What was happening? He kidnapped you because he wanted you…to dance for him? You know what he was and what his job was, damn you. You lost some lessons alongside your friends because of him and the other Decepticons, but you never thought that something like that could have even happened. A Decepticon, whose name you didn't even care to know and that he didn't care to give you, had taken you from your way back home, a human completely outside from their conflict and that never ever saw in real life one of their enemies, because he wanted to…see you dance?! You ignored the music; your hands trembled anyway, and you were sure that nothing would come out good in your actual mental state.

"M…mister…mister robot, I—"

"Skywarp."

"…s-sorry?"

"My name is Skywarp… Mr. Robot sounds… So off."

"…Skywarp," you tried to clear your voice. "I… I think there was a misunderstanding of some sorts… I—"

"Nah, no misunderstanding. I mean, I know you're good; I saw you practicing for like... I don't, three months? You're good, so I picked you."

You started again to get that close to hyperventilate, actually realizing that there was no mistake; he did follow you for three straight months, and he clearly didn't know how creepy and incredibly sick this kind of knowledge was. How much did he learn?! It was just about your work or it extended to your rpivate sphere?!

"Hey, head in the game here! Move those legs now if you don't want me to get rid of you!"

He pointed again with that talon that could pierce through metal; imagine it to your body made of flesh. You restarted the song, feeling that your survival now depended on your dancing skills, which now seemed far from acceptable.

He wanted a performance, but how could he expect one from you when your body was occupied with showing its state of stress instead of acting like you wanted now?! You didn't even warm up; how were you supposed to be able to do even the simplest poses like that?!

You started to move, but you couldn't remember properly. You couldn't concentrate, and all the poses and the movements were stuck somewhere in your brain. Now more focused, you screamed to please not screw up or the evil metal giant would have killed us like a mosquito. Not only that, but the stress didn't allow you to make some proper movements required! You jumped like a child; you lost balance on your feet, and every time you crossed your eyes with him, a new wave of panic forced you to back away.

He had noticed, and he wasn't pleased at all. Was that a joke?! Were you mocking him?! You were more than capable, then why were you moving like an idiot?! He slammed, without even noticing or caring, his servo on the table, showing the now emerging anger for the ridiculous situation. You fell down and there…there was your breaking point.

You did once have a panic attack. It happened the first time you were given the spotlight. You held together for so long until, on the day of the opening, you felt on you every pent-up emotion, the expectations of everyone, the stress of the days, the ominous presence of the audience... You must have thrown up because people were still joking about it, but, besides that, you had your friends to help you out, your safety net.

Now you were alone, and everything started spinning.

The music seemed to have stopped, but you couldn't hear anything beside your heart that wanted so desperately to come out from your chest and your short breaths. You coughed; you wanted to cry and just move, but you were frozen there, on your knees, your eyes stuck on the metal surface of that desk like your hand, which left some halos of your sweat.

Skywarp groaned. Seriously? Of everyone, why did he have to take a broken one?! Such a waste of time… Well, it happened! The good thing was that you weren't the only good one! Maybe he would have needed to change the city, just to be sure, but he was optimistic to find someone more capable.

His digit took you again from your leotard, thinking that this time he would make sure to take one that had one of those fancy dresses, reaching for the hatch that led the trash to the incinerator.

The sound of the door echoed over the music.

"Warp, your report has a few holes. We need to—

Thundercracker optics landed on the scene that was now in front of him, hoping that maybe he had just seen something that wasn't there. He needed to blink twice to ascertain that yes, that wasn't actually trash that his fellow seeker was trying to get rid of.

"Hi crack! What report?"

The only response he got was Thundercracker closing the door shut, launching at him, and taking your horrified body from his Skywarp's servos.

"HEY! WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA?!"

He couldn't care less now about him, his optic now completely stuck on you, holding on dear life on one of his fingers, your breathing getting worse and worse than before. He wanted to ask you if you were all right, but he didn't need to be an expert in human biology to understand that you weren't in fact, all right.

He scanned you, searching for every other kind of injury that Skywarp could have involuntarily made, then he noticed your robes and your shoes…he realized.

"Oh…Primus… You actually did it?!"

"…Did what?" said Skywarp, still completely oblivious of his actions.

"You kidnapped a…a…one of those humans you were obsessed with?!"

"Can you keep your vocalizer down?!"

"Don't tell me to—" Thundercracker tried to calm himself down. Firstly, because he wouldn't be able to get anything from Skywarp like that, and secondly, by moving and raising his voice, he would just do more damage to you. He put the servo that was holding you near the table.

"It's okay, get down." He tried to sound as calm as he could. You were still holding on to him with all your life, and only when you were sure he didn't plan to do anything to you did you finally start to lose your grip on him, allowing yourself to get down from his giant hand and return to the metal surface that welcomed you before. He turned back to Skywarp, still pissed.

"Did someone know she's here?!"

"Not one spark."

"Do you have any idea of what will happen if Starscream finds out?! IF MEGATRON FINDS OUT!"

"I'm smart enough to not let them, of course! Why do you think I'm so stupid, TC?"

He pointed with both of his arms at your frail and ready-to-shut-down figure.

"Now," he continued, "care to tell me who this human is and what part of your logic processor, which I doubt you have now, decided to take her?!"

"…Uuuhh….her name is… Y/n, yes, I think that's it."

"….Think?"

"Well her friends called her that; I never asked her!"

"……… How long is,,, whatever thing you were doing going on?"

Skywarp retelled the entire story, and Thundercracker couldn't hold a horrified expression. He had been stalking, because that was the right term in earth vocabulary, for three long months, monitoring your movements, taking the right moment to strike for…this?! He knew that this small interest in him was strange and it was starting to go a little off, but this was beyond normal decency! Even for them!

"Besides it's all been pointless," he kept going, showing no trace of remorse. "She's broken. Must have done something with my teleportation, maybe."

Thundercracker couldn't care that much if a human was hurt because of his idiotic companion; what he feared was an Autobot reprisal! He immediately turned to you, checking for the damages, but, besides your frantic breathing and your paleness, you seemed fine…almost fine…

"I need to get rid of her; that will fix the thing."

"First, if they check the incinerator, which you know Mixmaster does, they'll find what remains of her, and secondly, she's not broken."

Skywapr looked at him, raising one of his optical ridges, still seeing how you were almost putting yourself in a fetal position. Thundercracker massaged his face plate; of course he couldn't notice the similarity, which was even worse since he remembered that both of them saw something like this happen over and over even between Cybertronians.

"You know when Breakdown starts to do those crazy things, pass out, or just cry over and over because of something?"

"…Yes?"

"You must have done something similar to her."

"What?! But I was careful!"

"You kidnapped her, which could absolutely cause an attack like this."

He couldn't risk you being around. As much of an idiot as he was, he did care for Skywapor, and making him suffer punishment because he had brought a human on their ship wasn't in his agenda. He got closer to you, enough to not scare you but enough for you to listen to him.

"...Y/n?… Can you hear me?"

You trembled, unresponsive, but you moved your head enough to sigh.

"You need to breath. Humans do that, right? Can you do that for me? At your time, okay?"

How curious, the second giant was trying to help you. You tried to do as you were told; thinking about something else was quite helpful too; in fact, you started to wonder which Decepticon this one was. He was identical to your captor; were they brothers? They acted like those after all. You started to stop breathing like before, using this time your nose and your mouth, letting big chunks of air get inside and then out of your body. You allowed your body, which was starting to retain some mobility, to sit down in a more comfortable pose.

You needed more than ten minutes, but finally, your body stopped shaking, your breath started to get back to a normal rhythm, and your heart wasn't trying to get out from your throat. You made one last long sigh, looking at the two, or mostly at the blue one.

"…Thank…you…"

He sighed, one problem solved. Skywarp, instead, watched all the happening in a mix of boredom and annoyance. Was that scene really necessary? He didn't even touched you! Now he had to found out that there were humans like Breakdown around, wich make the thing even more stupid or useless to him.

Thundercracker offered you his digit, helping you to get up, your legs still a little shaky.

"Don't worry…"

"Oh, she can stand now?"

"Yeah, she's still a little-"

"GOOD! Now she can do what I asked for!"

Was he serious?! After what happened?! You weren't suppose to find refuge behind his hand, but you tried immediat ely to use the hand of Thundercracker to cover yourself from the other robot.

"Skywarp, this thing as gone too far you need-"

"She's fine no?! She can dance right?! Than let her do her staff!"

Her was serious, wich maked the thing even more ridiculous and dangerous, but , other to being quite an idiot, Thundercracker knew that Skywarp was stubborn as Starscream on certain matter and, making a tantrum. would just make thing more harder than they were already. No one had catched them already, but how much luck they got? He moved his servo away, facing you.

"I know it's a lot of ask but..please, indulge him."

Your eyes got bigger for the shock. Now he sided with him?! Thundercracker noticed your behaviour and immediately tried to use some rationality.

"He won't stop, and trust me, out there are worst things than us. I promise you, nothing will happen but…please just one, ok?"

He seemed sincere, but how much sencere can be a Decepticon?… Well he tried to calm you down, and he did, and he did in fact made a point:You didn0t know what was outside that door and those two were the most secure thing you got. You scratched your hand again, almost whispering.

"…I…can but… I-i need to strecth first…"

"WHAT?" You gasped again, Skywarp could take a hint even if it smashed on his helm "Can't you just…start to spin and all?!"

"If we don't take care of our wings," explain Thundercarcker "we cannot work effictively. I guess this strecth thing is the same thing for an organic."

Skywarp mumbled something, like it was a waste of time, but if moving at your peace was the only way for him to see an actual dancer than…

You tried to not complain; you started to stretch your leg with what you had… Even if doing it with two killing machines wasn't exactly something closer to comfortable. Thundercracker needed to admit he did start to get curious too, but not as Skywarp.

His annoyance was soon replaced with an avid look of curiosity.

His giant head was at the level of the metal surface, his hands on the edge of it like supporting part of his weight. His eyes seemed to be bigger than before, concentrated, and his mouth was completely shut. He reminded you of one of those kids from the school that observe the older ballerinas. It was when you folded your leg so high that you could feel your calf touching your shoulder that he dared to speak.

"Wow… You're so flexible… Are you sure you have a structure inside for all that meat?"

"Um…uh…" Was that a compliment? It seemed like one…

"What happens if you don't do all this …strength?"

"It's stretching." Now you felt a little bolder, maybe because you weren't confused about what he was actually meaning. "Well, I could… Well, I could not perform as I like, or i could get a muscle strain or a contracture or—"

"Contra what?"

"It's a … never mind…"

At that point you just wanted to satisfy this big baby, just enough to prolong your life. At least, now, you didn't feel like you needed to dance to save yourself, but because someone asked you to do that…well, he demanded it, but it felt less threatening now.

Finally, after one last stretch of your arms. You felt ready to start. This time you actually selected one song that you knew you couldn't mess up, since you did it not once but many times in the last season.

Skywarp, of course, knew that song. It never took the need to actually check about the opera or the story behind it; what he knew was it was called after some Cupid guy,, and, thanks to his luck, it was quite funny to look at it, and, most importantly, this time it was different.

Without the fear of making mistakes and angering him, your legs moved freely and without obstacles. Maybe it was the fact that someone did in fact take you aside and decided to explain to you what was happening and that it would have been over soon, but this time you were relaxed; your brain wasn't trying to fight all the mess that had happened a few hours ago; it just followed the rhythm and the music, remembering the steps and the poses to compose this piece.

Skywarp optics couldn't move away from you; the euphoria of the moment had him completely concentrated on every move and small jump that your legs could execute. He had watched videos, but in real life it was something else; he could see everything without a glass to stop him. There was something in your movements that reminded him of when he was flying, high from everything and almost invincible. The spark in your eyes—was it almost the same that he, Thundercracker, and Starscream had in their own, knowing that in the skies they are more a menace than they could be on the ground? You were in a zone that even he couldn't reach, something only yours.

He hated humans, but you weren't; you were ethereal, beautiful, something made. to be appreciated in the way that he saw fit. He knew that he had picked up the right one.

When the music stopped, you were again without breath, but this time not for fear. You smiled, a repertory one that you used during your performance, something that you didn't even think you were doing, such that your mind had completely disconnected with what had happened in those hours.

His optics were so wide that they started to emit some light; his derma opened without saying anything until, from the wonder, he started to emit a curious sound. It was the most…less threatening series of laughs that Thundercracker had ever heard from him.

"OH PRIMUS! THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL! I KNOW I PICKED RIGHT!"

"I…t-thanks?" Well, that was an actual compliment, and maybe you were more receptive knowing that it was finally over. "So… Can I go h-"

"Okay, okay, this time I chose another one! Let's see…"

Your eyes widened again; wasn't he already satisfied?! You needed to do more?! Oh no, what if I never planned to let you go?!

Thundercracker noticed again… He hated playing this kind of trick, but in extremis…

"That was… Really nice… Too bad there's no scenery here… It would have been such a view…"

Skywarp shined, looking at his companion, of course! A wooden stage! The metal surface of his desk wasn't good enough; he needed an actual stage!

"YOU'RE RIGHT, TC! There, watch her for me; I'll grab one!"

He reached for the door before glancing at you.

"Aaah, angel, you have no idea how happy you're making me!"

The door closed again, leaving you in a new state of panic. No, no, no, you didn't plan this! The blue one said he would have let you go after that! You tried to speak when again that big hand appeared in front of you, gesturing for you to jump on.

"Quick, before he came back."

You looked at him, your hands on your chest… He wasn't lying? He really wanted to help you out?

"Come on. I'll leave somewhere safe."

"I…thank you."

"Never speak of this night, okay?… If not for him, for my own sake."

///

"Angel! I'm back!" He slammed the door closed, holding what was supposed to be an old stolen stage, maybe taken from an open theater in the park.

"And look what I found! FANCY DRESSES!" He started to extract from his chassis several garments that he was able to steal around, acting more like one of those mages from kids parties.

"I want to try this purple one; purple is my color. I'm sure you'll be…."

He finally stopped talking, and his optics noticed…nothing. There was nothing on his desk. Your staff was gone, just like you.

That night ended with you, leaving not far from your house, with a Decepticon that found a more than good excuse to justify your disappearance to his friend and his absence to the others.

You hoped that everything would be back to normality, that you would soon forget the terrible events, that you would just go on without telling anybody.

Little did you know that some other robots had noticed a seeker reaching an urban area without making any damage, just as they noticed a human, maybe a hostage, being released without any harm. You couldn't suspect that, the next day, a car would have asked you to follow him to a certain base to discuss.

As you couldn't suspect that your captor was far from done with you.

@dumpster-fae

#transformers #transformers g1 #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers x y/n #transformers x oc #skywarp #ballerina!reader #tf skywarp #skywarp x reader #thundercracker #tf thundercracker #reader #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #female reader

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cheekybirb · 7 hours ago

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My review for @a-magpie-in-gravesfield 's new project: Masked and Modeled

So after a few other artists started making reviews, I gathered the courage to make my own.

Just as a disclaimer: this is not meant to be or spread hate; this is just my opinion, and if Magpie takes this as something to improve, that's on them.

I didn't go to share my thoughts right away because I was horrified of possible backlash, and I wanted to give Magpie the spotlight because he’s worked so incredibly hard on this project, but now that I've seen others speak up, I thought I should too.

This is meant to be informative, not aggressive.

But I want to speak about the songwriting. It is the entire project and is not perfect, but also not horrible. There are only a few things I want to point out that I feel would make the songs just a bit better.

First off, almost all the songs try so hard to rhyme with every end, and because of that, a lot of the lyrics sounded basic and plain, which is a very common mistake I've seen with other beginner songwriters. Not all lyrics have to rhyme; freestyle does exist and is very common.

Going off that, a lot of words were repeated unnecessarily often. “Play,” “pretend,” and “witch” were the most overused. And those words especially witch are hard to work with lyrics that are trying to rhyme. Mainly in the beginning three songs.

For example, “Left Behind” with the line that Philip talks about the mask, “gaze at the mask” followed by “put on the mask” is dragging it and something that didn't need to be repeated.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that Magpie puts more effort into Belos’ songs than Caleb’s. While I get that the story does follow Belos more, the songs that Caleb has are very lacking, especially when Caleb’s “I want” song doesn't show anything wrong and therefore puts no strength into the lyrics and makes the song overall pointless. Not only that, but a majority of Caleb’s art during those songs looked exactly from frames from the show. And it is so easy to tell when Magpie’s very soft art style turns sharper with face shapes and body type. If you are writing a story about the Wittebanes, especially Belos’ upbringing, Caleb is key to that, and how Caleb was written makes Caleb’s death justifiable. And makes Belos’ villain arc lacking drive.

The song “Murder” is incredibly out of place with the lyrics and instrumental. While I do get that it's meant to show Belos’ anger, it makes no sense with the rest of the music and the instruments used in past songs. When it comes to writing a soundtrack, keeping the same instruments is key to keeping it understandable and recognizable. But that was the only song that didn't fit; the rest of the instrumentals are very nicely done.

The song “What now?” “Grimwalkers” and “CURSE” are my favorite, but they also have their issues.

“What now?” didn't have any build-up for the lyrics to be as powerful as they could have been. The notes didn't match what the lyrics ask. Belos questioning what he was doing was for nothing, sounded monotone, and had less power and drive. When he goes forward to make it clear that he needed to go on it has no build-up and seems like it was just being written to end the song.

“Grimwalkers” have a lot of repeated lyrics, but show sympathy and come from nothing, and do nothing to Belos’ character and drive to go on.

“CURSE” beautifully captures the horror and panic that Belos has, and the eerie work with the instruments perfectly follows the notes of the singer. But once again has no buildup and no follow-up to that state of mind.

“The once familiar smile, now frozen into a glare by death” is my favorite line because it sets the room and the atmosphere very well. And also explains Caleb’s change that haunts him.

“Keep in the grief” lacks the panic that makes him struggle to calm down, however. And overall, i feel it should be removed from the song entirely.

The very last song i feel should have been removed entirely. it keeps adding on when it should have ended right there with CURSE. Because the audience already knows what happens after that from the show itself.

But that is all I will write for now, because writing this has me through so much distress that I feel incredibly sick and nauseous. So i might take a bit to gather myself. @calebsrottingcorpse , @azure-blaze92 , and @thatbloodstainfromcaleb know what I'm talking about

Magpie, if you see this, if you want more information from me, just DM me. i do not want this to be a public argument

-thank you

#the owl house #caleb wittebane #toh #toh caleb #philip wittebane #emperor belos #toh belos #evelyn clawthorne #artists on tumblr #masked and modeled

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megumismyhusband · 4 days ago

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phantom busters hcs! /ᐠ - ˕ -マᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

kotaro:

shy baby. you have to initiate almost everything early on. but once he’s comfortable? clingy.

always holds your hand. like always. if you’re sitting next to him, he’ll fumble for your fingers and squeeze them.

the kind of guy to write little notes and leave them for you to find. “good luck today!” “you’re doing amazing!” “i love you.” — scribbled on receipts or sticky notes or gum wrappers.

gets flustered when you compliment him but will remember every single thing you say and bring it up months later. “you said i look nice in blue, so… i wore this.”

likes laying on your lap while you play with his hair. melts into your touch. completely at peace.

you guys always listen to asmr or music together at night. it’s your little wind-down thing.

always invites you to quiet little picnic dates at parks no one else really goes to. he’ll bring sandwiches and a book to read with you, and you’ll both just lay there in the sun like time doesn’t exist.

kaoru:

acts all tough but he’s so weak for you it’s embarrassing. one pout from you and he’s sighing and saying “fine, come here” like you didn’t just win.

buys you dumb little gifts but tries to be chill about it. “this looked like something you’d like. whatever. don’t make a big deal.”

you make him laugh like really laugh, the wheezy breathless kind, and he always tries to hide it but fails.

if you fall asleep on him, he’ll stay frozen for hours. won’t move a muscle. you’ll wake up and he’ll be like “you drooled on me” but his voice is soft and he’s secretly so happy.

always gives you anime and manga recs. texts you full-on reviews after he finishes stuff, like “9/10 pacing was slow in the middle but the ending made me cry. you’ll love it.” and he’s right every time.

he love love loves dressing you up.

eugene:

the most thoughtful boyfriend on the planet. you mention something once and two weeks later, he’s like “i got you that notebook you said you liked.”

helps you study without making you feel dumb. will quiz you with flashcards and encourage you the whole time. “you’re doing great, babe. one more and you’re done, i promise.”

remembers your favorite drink, snack, color, that one show you said you were gonna start—everything.

gives you the warmest hugs ever. full-body, hold-you-like-he-means-it type hugs. and he does.

texts you “good luck” before every test or big day and “i’m proud of you” after, no matter how it went. literally your #1 fan.

mogari:

chaotic but so loving. always pulling you into random adventures, like late-night convenience store runs or wandering around in the woods, convinced there’s treasure nearby (he gets lost every time).

super protective in his own way, always looking out for you, even if he’s still joking around about it.

he’s such a cuddle bug! when he’s tired or just feels like being close, he’ll pull you into his arms and refuse to let go, whining if you try to move.

he’s always on a mission to make you laugh.

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tin-wufborf · 9 months ago

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Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 11)

Hello again, and welcome to part 11! I cannot believe I'm up to 11 parts on this thing with more to come (though not too many more, I think). That means I've recommended 200 fics/series so far as I've been doing 20 recs per post. Tbh I'm actually pretty proud of myself over this because it means I've been showing incredible restraint throughout this process in only recommending my favoritiest-favorites as opposed to every single fic I can remember liking even a little bit (don't worry, that will be the next series lol). For reference, I currently have 2,610 Sterek bookmarks in total on AO3 and have so far reviewed 1,749 of them to get to those select 200. That is wild to me lol.

BUT ANYHOOZLE.

As always, thank you all again for the support you've shown this series. I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great day. Smoochies and squeezies from me to you!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

************************************************************************

DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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not enough by Jana_C (G | 1/1 | 1,569)

Sometimes love is just not enough.

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A Quiet Night (Not in the Cards) by Delightful_I_Am (T | 1/1 | 4,369)

"Derek fucking Hale!"

The shout rang through the bar and for a long moment nobody moved. It was like something out of a movie. Everything just stopped; the music cut off; one of the servers had frozen mid-pour. Grady would have laughed if he weren't holding his breath. The kid straightened his shirt, a glimpse of stomach showing the curling edges of a tattoo on his hip, and strode toward where Hale was sitting in the dark corner. As one, every supe in the place turned to see Hale's reaction; the last person to try to confront Hale in here had left with a broken hand and a whispered threat that the next time Hale would rip their throat out. With his teeth. Unsurprisingly, Hale's face was set in its usual glower, although it seemed a bit softer around the eyes. It took Grady a second to realise Hale knew the kid.

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Painted Wooden Letters by DiscontentedWinter (T | 5/5 | 10,013)

All he ever wanted to be was Stiles Stilinski.

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Babcia Knows Best by thepsychicclam (T | 1/1 | 11,887)

Stiles takes his grandmother to bingo every Thursday. Now there's a new guy calling out the numbers, and his grandmother has decided to set them up.

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god knows I am dissonance by scepticallyopenminded (E | 1/1 | 24,239)

Stiles has zero regrets – zero, absolutely none – about leaving Beacon Hills after he graduates from Stanford. He knows his dad is good, has friends, has the force, has Melissa, and knows that even if he and Mel weren’t dating, that Scott has the sheriff’s back, will take care of him, keep him safe.

He knows Lydia has no regrets, either, and the two of them hop a plane less than a week after the graduation ceremony, two full weeks before their lease in Menlo Park is even up. They pack up a U-Haul, go back to Beacon Hills for two nights, and then they’re off to LAX, three suitcases and two carry-ons between the both of them.

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There's joy not far from here by Talis89 (M | 9/9 | 28,354)

“I’m coming,” Derek calls, shrugging on a sweater. The first few days of March had been warm, but the weather has turned in the last week - winter's last ‘fuck you’ - and Derek is expecting the icy blast as the warm air rushes out the front door. “What—” His breath freezes in his throat.

“Hey there, Sourwolf.”

Stiles is standing on the front porch— Derek’s front porch— his right hand waved in a half wave.

“Stiles?” Derek almost takes a step back. “What are you— how?”

Two years after Derek runs from Beacon Hills, Stiles turns up at his front door looking for his own escape. What follows is a story of adventure, healing and finding a place to call home.

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The Heart Remains The Same by heartsdesire459 (T | 1/1 | 28,797)

When Stiles left for college, he already knew the truth... Stiles wasn't a 'he' at all. Dropped into a new, exciting, liberating level of freedom that came with going to college somewhere without anyone who knew her, Stiles began to explore her true self and began her quest to become the girl she knew she had always been. Her fears of everyone's reactions back home led to skipping the first holiday... and then a second. And then the next.

Two and a half years after leaving Beacon Hills - two and a half years spent living an entire new life as a trans!woman - a call in the night forces Stiles to go back to Beacon Hills to face the people she had left and the friends she had abandoned.

“Stiles… it’s your dad.”

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The Second Coming (of Werewolf Jesus) by lupinus, uraneia (E | 3/3 | 40,104)

Stiles was enjoying his senior year until his crazy English teacher decided he made the best candidate to gestate Derek's kid. Now Stiles is a seventeen-year-old pregnant dude and he and Derek have to figure their shit out, because in nine months they are going to be tied together for the rest of their lives.

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Burning House by 1jet2unknown, nottoolateforthegame (E | 15/15 | 41,007)

“Why am I here? What was the point of showing me all that? It’s not like it’s going to change anything!”

You can change it.

“How?!”

You can change it if you go back.

“Then take me back!”

Stiles’s stomach lurched as the world tilted and stretched sideways.

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Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by venis_envy (E | 16/16 | 52,270)

Stiles can't remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he's there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.

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Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean to Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (T | 1/1 | 68,368)

“You’re late,” Derek informed him coldly, jaw clenched. He barely even moved his mouth to speak. This guy was seriously scary.

And because Stiles was suicidal, he said, “No, I’m Stiles.”

The look he got could’ve curdled milk. Stiles even noticed that Derek’s muscles were tensing, arms bulging even more and wow this guy was scary and hot but mostly scary holy shit.

“You’re not funny,” Derek informed him coldly.

Stiles shrugged. “I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

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Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill (M | 10/10 | 70,382)

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." -----

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

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What Goes Around by KouriArashi (M | 16/16 | 71,451)

“Well,” Stiles says, “if they’re going to hunt werewolves, I’m going to hunt them.”

It’s a ridiculous statement from a ten-year-old, but he’s obviously one hundred percent sincere. For the first time since the fire, Peter feels life stir inside him, feels purpose. It’s kismet, clearly. He’ll never meet the child he would have had with Olivia. Instead he’s met this boy, this brilliant, determined, cynical child with a world of potential.

Peter kneels down in front of him so they’re at eye level. “How do you feel about doing that together?”

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The Law of the Jungle by Nutellargh (E | 1/1 | 75,854)

After the Kanima fiasco is over, Derek takes his three betas and leaves Beacon Hills. Stiles knows he could contact him if needed, but they barely keep in touch, and only about mundane things. 4 years later, after a steady stream of supernatural issues they somehow manage to deal with, Lydia is the one to contact Derek when Stiles starts looking worse and worse everyday, with no idea as to how or why. The Slavic monster draining Stiles' energy points them to a much bigger issue Beacon Hills has been troubled with for years.

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Windows by dr_girlfriend (E | 28/28 | 83,266)

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

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where thou art, that is home series by ShanaStoryteller (8 works | NR-E | 94,108)

Hi, Tin here. Once again, Tumblr is deciding not to allow me to post any of the individual stories and summaries here, so here's a very brief summary without me waxing poetic about the series:

This is a canon-divergent AU series that acts as a sort of "fix it" for the universe without sacrificing the things we know and love from canon (imo). It begins with Stiles (and Scott as his co-pilot) managing to prevent the Hale fire from taking out the whole of the Hale pack and then moves forward from there. Lots of BAMF!Everyone abound and interesting takes on existing tropes and canon elements. I urge you all to check it out.

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The Taming of the Wolf by Amethystina (T | 15/15 | 105,352)

When Stiles seeks shelter from the rain in a rundown house in the middle of the woods, the last thing he expects is to find that someone is actually living there. Even less that the person in question isn't quite human. Derek is something else entirely.

Before he knows it, Stiles is thrown into a world he knows very little about and while he enjoys the unlikely and complex relationship that sparks between them, it's obvious that something darker is lurking in the shadows. Something from Derek's past that is just waiting to tear them apart.

Chapters 13, 14 and 15 are bonus chapters, featuring the same story but from Derek's POV (a total of 40 700 words). This is basically two fics in one.

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Anthracite by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) (E | 16/16 | 106,673)

It's been a quiet few years, and the McCall Pack has grown and settled. But, when the Hale Pack return to Beacon Hills they find Scott isn't as welcoming as they had hoped.

Soon they, Stiles, and Lydia, find out that not everything about the McCall Pack is as it has always seemed.

♠

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All Bark and No Bite series by MoonlitMemories (3 works | NR-M | 157,246)

1. Protect and Serve (M | 17/17 | 150,789) Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles? 2. Baby makes Three (G | 1/1 | 3,202) Erica finds out she's pregnant. 3. One of Us (NR | 1/1 | 3,255) Malia doesn't know what to do with the Hale pack.

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Get You The Moon by A ClosedFicIsNeverRead (E | 30/30 | 180,785)

Derek looked up in surprise to note that they were taking a private jet. Dread settled into his gut like a stone. “It has a cage, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly, and noted the subtle changes in his family members’ posture. “Is it for me?” Cora gave him a pleading look and nodded. “Is it because of what you’re going to tell me?” he asked, voice like gravel. Another nod confirmed it. Stiles. Oh, GOD. It had to be Stiles. Derek would not lose control over anyone else in Beacon Hills and they damned well knew it.

- OR -

The one where Derek has been gone for 6 months building a new life, finds out that Stiles is being assaulted by Theo, so he comes back to Beacon Hills to kick some serious ass and rescue the loudmouthed human who stole his heart.

(You will need ALL the tissues, but it will have a happy ending by the time all is said and done!)

Title inspired by song: ‘Get You The Moon’ by Kina ft. Snow

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 1 year ago

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Refire the Sets

I'll try my best to break down what I love about this scene.

The whip pan from Sydney to Carmy- telling us something is coming. The transition gives us this disoriented feeling.

Oh, and the symbolism of the dish that triggers Carmy- they could have used any of the dishes to start a response, but they chose the one from Carmy's past.

The acting: Carmy stutters, and that frustrates him even more that he can't get the words out, Sydney's reaction to each fuck is Sydney trying to make sense of his anger.

The camera moves to Sydney and the clock behind her heightens the intensity.

When Carmy pleads, please just refire, just refire, please, the climbing music lowers a bit- signaling that this may not repeat the 1x07 review moment since Carmy tries to calm himself down.

And it won't be a repeat because Sydney speaks up for herself this time; she's not frozen in the wake of his anger; instead, she's ready to point out the reasons behind the error.

Writing: The quick dialogue happening at once- when Sydney and Carmy argue, their words collide, but they can catch everything the other is saying and react to it. There's no stone left unturned between Sydney and Carmy because they're listening to every word that comes out of their mouth.

While Sydney tells him what he was doing that caused the dead fish. Carmy hears it and reacts, and this time, it has nothing to do with the guy by the window. It has everything to do with Sydney. The rollercoaster from pleading just refire to the sudden explosion of Syd.Syd. I love how that's written and Jeremy's power behind calling her name.

The camera zooms in on Carmy when he says each word- Refire the sets. They've been sitting here for fucking ever. Refire. The camera gives us the feeling of heightened anxiety that's still there. But there's another whip pan when Sydney warns Carmy Watch it dude.

With Sydney's warning, the music returns to normal and at a normal volume. The camera focuses on Carmy again- but this time it's not as close- his panic attack is over.

The greatest part about this- this whole scene was only about 45 seconds, and it put us in a different world. That's what it always seems like with Sydney and Carmy- whether an argument or coming closer- it's a scene that slows down or speeds up the story's pace.

Kudos to the cinematography, writing, directing, and acting in this short amount of time.

#hopefully this makes sense?#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #the bear 2x10 the bear #sydney adamu #thoughtful chaos scene analysis

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synergysilhouette · 3 months ago

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10 Disney hot takes/unpopular opinions (Part 5)

I did not realize how many unpopular opinions I had until I started back on part 3. Anyways, here are some more, and be sure to check out part 4 here.

Merida should NOT be part of the Disney princess roster--I mainly say this because Disney over time has become conflated with the companies it owns, resulting in people calling Marvel, Pixar, Lucasfilm, Fox, etc. "Disney," despite them all having different creatives and teams. While "Brave" was made after Disney buying out Pixar, I feel like making Merida a Disney princess contributes to the conflation, and I feel like the DP line should only be something Disney has for their own company, especially when you remember the fact that Disney doesn't really market or promote Merida as much as the other princesses (and Pixar barely acknowledges her film), though I will say it's probably because her film isn't a musical, similar to how underrated Raya is, despite being a Disney princess. Speaking of which...

2. Raya should only be marketed with one cultural background, two at the most--The fact that her film is a mix of Southeast Asian cultures without defining barriers or specific influences has gained polarized reviews for generalizing the culture, and some people have even surmised it was so Disney could market her in various Southeast Asian clothes rather than just one. While Kumandra is kind of a mess, I do think it'd help to present Raya (at least in dolls/associated merchandise) as having a specific cultural influence to her, maybe two if her mother was from a different land than her father. I am biased towards making her Vietnamese due to the whole "dep la" verbiage between her and Namaari, as well as Raya's voice actor and one of the writers for her film being of Vietnamese heritage. That said, I could also see her being marketed as Malaysian, due to the other co-writer being of Malaysian heritage and Raya's name being Malay for "celebration."

3. "Frozen" is Disney's "Shrek"--At least on the animated side; "Enchanted" is the true rival to "Shrek" overall (and can we PLEASE get a 2D film with an art style like they did?! Alphonse Mucha's art is gorgeous!). While the meta moments sometimes felt heavy-handed, it felt like the foil to classic Disney the same way that Dreamworks had done, and honestly I feel like it worked in it's favor. I'm glad the sequel didn't try to copy that, though.

4. Pocahontas is one of the best Disney protagonists--Yes, the film was inaccurate and included a sexualized lead (who had several non-Indigenous women as her physical influence) along with including a romance that never happened. I get why people hate this movie and her. I'm just saying I love her personality, her spitiuality, athleticism, kindness, intelligence, and reverence for her culture (because it would've been very easy to make the "dissatisfied character forsakes their culture in favor of another one"). NGL, I feel like if her deerskin outfit was longer, a significant portion of her criticism would cease.

5. "Oz the Great and Powerful" should've been animated--Given the success of "The Wizard of Oz" and "Wicked," it seems that Disney doing a take on "The Wizard of Oz" would've been a hit, but as "Return to Oz" and "Oz the Great and Powerful" will tell you, they did not reach those heights. While OTGAP wasn't spectacular, had it went through the Disney Animation pipeline during the 2010s (the best part of the revival era; another hot take?), I think the writing and story would've been better. Bonus points if it was a musical! Of course, the main idea for the film could've easily been used for an original property instead of one related to "The Wizard of Oz." I also think "Hocus Pocus" should be animated, but that's another post.

6. Disney should take a break from Europe for a while--While getting more specific with European cultures recently with "Frozen" (Not sure if was specifically Norwegian or just Scandinavian in general) and "Wish," I do feel like it's a bit played out, at least for now. With growing cultural awareness, Disney's diversity with "Moana," "Encanto," and even "Raya and the Last Dragon," I do want to see Disney explore more cultures outside of Europe. I mentioned in my "Part 3" post that I'd like diversity for the next musical, but this part goes beyond that; I feel like the next 5 films after "Frozen 3" that are set with real-world influence should take place in countries outside of Europe. Asia and the Americas have my vote, but if Disney makes an animated musical in Africa with HUMANS, I'll be very happy. In fact--

7. Disney should've used Beyonce's "The Gift" and Lin-Manuel Miranda's work on "Mufasa" for their animation department--Both of them crafted really gorgeous work, but they used it for films that's existence has gained mixed responses due to Disney's live-action remake trend. Imagine if Beyonce and Lin worked together on a soundtrack!

8. John Musker and Ron Clements need more work--It ASTOUNDS me that they directed "Moana," one of Disney's best-received films EVER, and have been behind several other classic Disney films, but over the past 20 years, they've only directed and/or written two films for Disney. Can we circle back to that "Swan Lake" idea the duo overlooked in the 90s? (Note: It'd be cool to explore an Eastern European culture since the composer was Russian, but as per #7, that'll have to come later. Plus political situations probably mean Russia itself isn't an option for now.)

9. Collaborate with other creatives--I've made fanmade posts about potential Disney films, and they included using well-known directors and songwriters. I really feel like it'd be nice for Disney to work with these creatives for something fresh and fun. AND GIVE THEM SPACE TO WORK!

10. More "Making of" documentaries--"Frozen 2" was EYE-OPENING, and I'm sure Disney isn't eager to earn the ire of the fans again, especially if they explain why their recent movies have been the way they are, ie why "Raya and the Last Dragon" had a major upshake 7 months from release, why "Wish" is so different from the OG concepts, how the crew for "Moana 2" adapted to making the show a film with only 10 months, etc. "Making of..." would make a fun series on Disney+; I'm sure it'd be VERY popular.

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nova-amor · 2 years ago

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𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 [𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦], 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

house parties had never really been your thing. all throughout high school and college, you had preferred to stay tucked away in your room, binge-watching a movie series or reviewing lesson sheets while your friends spent their friday and saturday evenings at the nearest party. there had been no strong appeal to spending your nights out drunk, sandwiched between sweaty bodies while the worst techno music overwhelmed your eardrums.

and, it wasn't like your friends made fun of you or tried to pressure you to tag along to such parties either— they had quickly learned to respect your recluse behavior and would often just send you videos or photos throughout the night to keep you in the loop, which you always found enjoyment out of.

so, it definitely came as a shock to everyone when you had willingly volunteered to join them for a night out one random evening. you had elected yourself as the designated driver for the evening, which they had very much appreciated with the rising price increases in third-party riding apps. upon arrival at the party, you had slipped away into the backyard, attempting to escape from the nauseating aroma of cheap booze, sweat, and other foul body odors.

the music was also a bit quieter outside, fewer people to interact with, and a soft golden glow from the porch lights that was just enough to illuminate the texts from the book you were reading. having found peace amongst the chaos of the house party, you were thoroughly enjoying the moment up until it was rudely interrupted by the host.

a ice cold liquid spilled atop your head, a high-pitched screech of surprise eliciting from the depths of your throat as the sickly sweet scent of booze-filled your nostrils. your vision was blurred, your head sweeping left and right before your sight finally landed on the culprit behind you.

“oh, shit, i'm so sorry,” satoru gojo gasped, his artic blue eyes forming into the size of saucers. it was as if he was frozen into place, muscle tensed and pale cheeks heated up with a scarlet tint. “shit, i didn't mean to spill— someone bumped into me and— fuck, i'm so sorry—”

his rambling pissed you off, the back of your hands now stained with the sticky substance of beer and makeup as you wiped your eyes. your hair was soaked in beer, along with your shirt and bra. you glared up at him, streaks of black mascara and eyeliner smudged around your eyes and down your cheeks.

“where's the bathroom?” your voice was icy, laced with venom as you abruptly stood up from the bench. satoru was barely able to slip a word out, his pink lips agape and towering frame dwarfed beneath the intensity of your gaze. he pointed in a random direction upstairs, earning a roll of your eyes and a shove to his shoulder as you brushed past him.

you tore open the sliding door, the gross aroma of alcohol and sweat making your lips curl in disgust as you squeezed through the large crowd. you pushed and shoved past people, earning a few glares and under-the-breath snarls as you made your way upstairs.

finally, finding the bathroom, the golden overhead light illuminated the yellowish splotches that decorated your white t-shirt and smears of your makeup, effectively ruining your evening. as you stripped yourself of your top, there was a sharp knock to the bathroom door before a familiar white-haired man poked his head through the door.

“fuck, i'm so sorry,” satoru apologized as he stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. you peeked at the black hoodie held in his fist while you rubbed a damp washcloth around your cheeks, the act smearing more makeup around than actually removing it. “i'll send you money for the shirt, just tell me how much it was. and, i grabbed you a hoodie, it might be a bit big on you but at least it's better than nothing, right?”

you glanced between the hoodie satoru was clinging to and his eyes. you had never seen satoru look so afraid before, most likely because you rarely got angry at anyone. and, whenever you did, you allowed actions to dictate rather than your words.

“i don't want your money,” you sneered at him, your face finally rid of all your makeup. you tilted your head forward, rinsing your hair beneath the rushing cold water spewing from the faucet. “you can just leave the hoodie on the toilet, thanks.”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip, fixated on the curve of your back as you bent over the bathroom counter. his gaze was shameless, heat pooling into his pelvis as he inhaled a sharp breath of cold air through his nose. he sat the hoodie down on the basin of the toilet, taking a step closer to you.

“let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers engulfed yours, aiding you in your attempt to rinse all of the beer from your hair. his pelvis was pressed softly to your behind, his warmth radiating through the layers of fabric between the two of you. “i'm really sorry again, just wanna make it up to you. i'll do whatever it takes, just don't want you t' be mad at me.”

a shiver runs down your spine— either from the weight of satoru's words, the cold water cascading down the sides of your face, or both.

“gojo, stop apologizing,” you said as you peeled your head out from under the water. satoru took a step back to grab a decorated towel, allowing you some space between the two of you. “you don't need to make anything up to me; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do it. it's over, let's be done with it.”

as you wrapped the towel around your head, satoru's hands grabbed at your waist— pressing your back up against the bathroom counter while his legs found their place between yours. one of his hands trailed up the curve of your body, ghosting over the swell of your bra-clad breast before cupping your neck, and gently tilting your head backward. his light blue eyes peered down at you, pupils wavering and enlarged. “are you sure there's nothing i can do to make it up to you?”

you gulped, heart pounding a frantic rhythm as the temperature of the bathroom seemed to rise from his close proximity. "gojo," your voice was breathy, the lingering remnants of anger melting into a puddle within your chest as the pad of his thumb caressed the hinge of your jaw.

“stop calling me gojo, angel,” satoru’s head dipped down, mere centimeters away from your face. it felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“and let me make it up to you the best way i know how,” half-lidded eyes glancing between your lips and your eyes. the tip of his nose brushes against yours, your head growing light from the intensity of the moment. “would you allow that?”

with a soft nod of your head, satoru's lips press against yours— capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips, stealing the very air from your lungs. his hand squeezes at your waist, the lingering sweetness of alcohol flooding your mouth. satoru guides you over to the toilet, his long legs spread out as you sit upon his lap.

the wet sounds of your lips fill the bathroom's void, the booming noise of dance music fading away as you surrender pieces of yourself to satoru. his hand trails up from your neck to cup the back of your head, smushing your faces together while his other hand kneads at the fat of your ass cheek through your jeans.

“fuck,” his voice is deep and raspy, dripping with lust as your lips devour the sides of his neck with scorching hot kisses and licks. you suckle at the space beneath his ear, ripping a long groan from his throat as you nip at the sensitive spot. “fuck— lemme— can i take your pants off, please?”

“no,” you breathe into satoru's ear, your bruised lips brushing against the soft earlobe. your fingers hook onto the waistband of satoru's pants, barely able to tug them down from your position on his lap. “but you can take yours off.”

you snake down to the bathroom, watching with hungry eyes as satoru peels his pants and boxer briefs off, the fabric pooled at his ankles as you kneel in front of him. his cock is long, thick, and veiny— cockhead flushed a rosy shade of pink, oozing pearls of white pre-cum.

a hushed fuck is breathed out through gritted teeth as your soft hands wrap around the base of his cock, pumping his throbbing length with twists and flicks of your wrists. your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the white globs of pre-cum seeping from the slit. satoru's hips buck up to chase the warm sensation of your mouth engulfing him, his head dipping back to lean against the bathroom wall, whispers of praise and moans bubbling up from the depths of his throat.

“fuck yes,” his voice is soft, his fingers stretched across the back of your head, guiding your mouth up and down whatever inches you allowed your throat to gobble down. “so wet— mouth feels so good— such a good girl f'me— f-fuck, just like that, god you look like a dream—”

his cock pokes at the gummy wall at the back of your throat, tears streaming down your hollowed cheeks as satoru guides your head up and down his cock in languid movements. he twitches against your tongue, your mind spiraling, completely forgetting how vulnerable you two were to getting caught. at any given someone could open the door and catch you in the act, satoru's pitiful hiccups were drowned out by the thumping of the music downstairs.

“stop stop stop,” satoru peels your mouth off his cock, his muscles tensed from his approaching orgasm. he practically melts at the sight of your teary eyes and flushed lips, drool pooling down the edges of your mouth as you look up at him. “don't wanna cum yet... c'mere here, pretty girl.”

satoru helps you from off the floor, heat rushing between your thighs as he pulls down the fabric of your jeans. you don't fight satoru as he twists your body around, guiding your hips back down onto his lap. your legs are stretched over his bare thighs, the sticky girth of his cock flushed against your sex. his dick slips between your soaked lips, cunt drooling all over his length as he teases the pulse of your clit.

the mushroom tip then pushes through your entrance, the delicious stretch of his cock easing its way through your tight ring earning a quivering groan from the man. “god, you feel good around my dick, such a perfect pussy—”

a pleasant buzz settles over your mind, your head tilting back to nestle against his shoulder. “gonna fuck me good, ‘toru?” you tease as satoru guides your hips, lifting your body up and down his length as if you were his personal sex doll. his biceps and thighs flex against you, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock as he thrusts into your tight heat.

“you fuckin’ know it— g’na give ya the best dick ya ever had, g’na make sure ya remember this forever,” satoru rambles into your ear, affectionate kisses peppered across your neck as a muscled arm snakes around your waist. “squeezin' me so tight, angel; best pussy i've ever had,” he grinds his hips into you, barely able to muster up the strength to pound you properly.

“ya feel even better, ‘toru, fuckin’ love yer cock,” you groan out, his cock nudging against the gummy walls of your cunt, stroking the fire within you just enough to pull pathetic whimpers and moans from you. “yer cock was made f’me, f-fucckk—”

“g'na cum deep inside you, okay? so close, so fuckin' close, pretty girl— need ya t' cum with me, baby, okay?” satoru whimpers, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. you felt like you were on cloud nine, like your soul had drifted out of your body and into the very heavens above.

with your eyes pinched closed, all you can do is nod and gargle out a pathetic series of “yesyesyes”s. satoru's free hand latches to one of your breasts, peeling back the thick layer of your bra to pinch at your nipple. he twirls the sensitive bud between his slender fingers, tugging and pinching at them until their nice and puffy.

the sensitivity of your breasts being fondled and his cock head rubbing at the mind-numbing spot buried deep into your gummy walls tears a scream from your throat as your release submerges you into its depths. satoru tenses up against you, his cock pressed impossibly close against your cervix as a series of curse words ramble from his lips. his cum stains your insides— the thick load spilling out from your sopping cunt and dripping down his balls.

satoru holds you close for a few moments, his labored breaths heating your skin as he presses his sweaty forehead into the back of your shoulder. “holy fuck,” he manages a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade. “let me just stay like this for a little bit more, not ready to pull out just yet, pretty pussy's just too warm.”

you lean against satoru for what feels like an eternity, your tiny sniffles and whimpers filling the air as satoru adjusts your weight atop him. “satoru, we should clean up before someone walks in, we forgot to lock the door,” you manage to say, earning an annoyed huff from the man.

satoru reluctantly pulls out of you, your legs too weak to support your own weight as you lean against the opposing wall. he guides you to take his place on the toilet seat's lid, the plastic warm against your skin as he shuffles around to grab you something to clean yourself with. he settles on the damp cloth you used to wipe your makeup with, his touch attentive and gentle as he kneels before you— making sure to clean every drop of cum and arousal from every crevice and fold of your cunt.

“fuck, look at that,” he murmurs, peeling back at your puffy lips as a white glob of cum seeps out from your entrance. it drools down your slit before pooling on the seat. “what a pretty sight, my cum drippin' out of your cute little pussy.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks puffed out in embarrassment as satoru scoops up the spilled cum. his finger prods at the tight ring of your entrance, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers hook into the walls of your cunt— fucking the wasted seed back into you.

“can't let it all go to waste, right?” satoru gazes up at you, a smug smirk painted across his lips.

“s-satoru, the door—” your hips buck to meet his shallow ministrations, another chuckle bubbling from his lips. he litters kisses along the soft skin of your inner thighs before resting his cheek against the warm skin.

he peers up at you from below, another finger slipping deep inside of you. “i'll make sure to lock the door this time, baby— don't want someone catching a glimpse of what's mine, right?”

maybe parties weren't so bad after all.

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