#it makes it really interesting to wonder what he'll do next
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iamquiantrelle · 10 hours ago
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VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 4) ────── iamquaintrelle
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# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)
# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes
# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.
Breakfast at the hotel hits like a hangover even though she barely drank last night. Eight months of morning routines, of knowing exactly where to sit, exactly how Aurélien takes his coffee, exactly which protein options he'll choose on match days – all of it means nothing now. He hasn't said more than two words to her since last night. No "ma puce," no schedule checks, no nothing – just this heavy silence that feels like punishment for crimes she's not sure she committed.
He's sitting clear across the room, sandwiched between Jules and Cama like the empty chair next to her might bite him. His laugh carries over at something Marcus says, and it hits her chest like a physical thing because that's not the laugh she's used to. She knows his real laugh. This is the one he uses for journalists he doesn't like.
She's pushing eggs around her plate, willing herself not to cry over scrambled protein when she feels it – warm lips pressing against her cheek, followed by a soft "Good morning, beautiful."
William slides into the chair next to her like it's the most natural thing in the world, like half the French national team isn't watching this play out like it's better than their morning entertainment. Like Aurélien's fork hasn't suddenly become very interested in murdering his breakfast.
"Sleep well?" William asks, voice warm with implications that make her cheeks heat despite nothing happening last night.
"Do you need something, Saliba?" Aurélien's voice cuts through the morning chatter like ice. "Besides distracting my PA?"
The temperature drops about ten degrees, but William just smiles wider. "Just checking on my girl. That's allowed, non?"
The "my girl" hangs in the air like a challenge. Jules is watching the whole thing with wide eyes while Cama not-so-subtly pulls out his phone under the table.
"Your girl?" Aurélien's voice drops dangerous-low. "Since when?"
"Since she chose to leave the club with me last night," William says easily, and oh – they're really doing this over breakfast. "Unless you have some objection, Capitaine?"
The way he says 'capitaine' somehow sounds both respectful and like a perfect fuck you. Leila's caught between wanting to sink through the floor and wanting to see how this plays out.
"No objection," Aurélien says after a pause that feels eternal. "Just wondering when my PA started dating my teammates."
"Maybe around the same time you started calling her 'okay'."
The silence that follows is absolute. Even Marcus stops eating, which is how you know shit just got real.
"Je t’emmerde," Aurélien spits out, chair scraping against tile as he stands. The words carries enough venom to make several heads turn from nearby tables. ("Fuck you.")
His eyes finally meet hers, and something in them makes her stomach flip. Without another word, he stalks out like the restaurant's on fire, leaving his breakfast half-eaten and tension thick enough to choke on.
William looks entirely too pleased with himself.
"Well," Jules breaks the silence, "that was fun."
The worst part? Some stupid, hopeful part of her had really thought he'd fight harder than this.
"You want to eat, babe?" William's voice cuts through her spiral, casual as anything, like he didn't just provoke their captain into cursing up French storms at breakfast. He's already reaching for her fork like this is something they do, like this morning hasn't turned into a whole telenovela.
Her brain's running dual tracks: pure rage because what the actual fuck was that from Aurélien? Not a hint of the man who fights for everything he wants, who once argued with a ref for fifteen minutes over a throw-in. And panic, because oh god, is she about to lose her job? She's pretty sure there wasn't a 'don't let the fine-ass defender feed you breakfast' clause in her contract, but-
William's trying to feed her a forkful of eggs and she shakes her head no, mind still racing. He just shrugs, unbothered, and turns his attention to her abandoned pancakes instead, cutting them into perfect squares before drowning them in syrup like this is just another morning.
"You got a death wish," Mike says from across the table, watching William arrange her breakfast like he's plating at a Michelin star restaurant.
Bradley nods sagely. "You're crazy as fuck, Wilo."
"Why?" William's voice is all innocent curiosity but his eyes are sharp. "Because I'm showing interest in a beautiful, single woman?"
"Because you're poking a bear that's been marking his territory for months," Marcus mutters into his protein shake.
"I don't see any marks," William responds easily, but his hand finds her knee under the table. "Do you, Lei?"
She should probably say something. Should probably address the fact that they're all talking about her like she's not sitting right here. Should probably be more concerned about the professional implications of whatever this is becoming.
Instead, she's watching William's hands – the same ones that had been so gentle last night – methodically destroying her pancakes with syrup.
"You're going to make them soggy," she finally says, because it's easier than addressing everything else.
His smile is soft when he looks at her. "You need the sugar. You're thinking too hard again."
"About what?" Cama asks, still filming like this is prime content.
"About things that don't matter," William answers before she can. "Like what other people think."
"Other people being our captain who looks ready to commit murder?" Mike suggests.
"He'll get over it."
"Will he though?" Jules finally speaks up, and something in his tone makes Leila look at him. He's wearing that expression that means he knows more than he's saying.
"Does he have a choice?" William counters, and there's steel under the casual tone now.
The table goes quiet again, the implications of that hanging in the air. Leila's phone buzzes – probably her mama's daily good morning text – but she doesn't check it. Can't look away from how William's hand is still on her knee, thumb drawing those circles that made her brain short-circuit last night.
"I should grab my things," she says finally. "We have a flight to catch."
"I'll come with—"
"No," she cuts him off, maybe too quickly. "I got it."
He studies her face for a moment, then nods. "Okay. But Lei?"
She pauses halfway out of her chair.
"Don't overthink it. Any of it."
Easy for him to say. He's not the one whose whole world just tilted sideways over breakfast.
She's barely out of the restaurant when her phone buzzes again. This time it's Jules:
Jules: He's in the gym. Breaking records and probably imagining Wilo's face on the punching bag. You good?
She stares at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Is she good? Is anything about this good?
Another message pops up:
Jules: For what it's worth, I've never seen him this pressed about anything. Not even when Marcus stole his pre-wrap.
She starts typing several responses, deletes them all. Finally settles on:
Leila: Don't know what you mean
His reply is immediate:
Jules: Yes you do. But since you're both determined to be stupid about it... have fun with Wilo 👀
She puts her phone away before she can say something she'll regret. Before she can ask what Jules means. Before she can admit that maybe she does know exactly what he's talking about.
But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less.
Knowing doesn't change the fact that Aurélien walked away instead of fighting.
Knowing doesn't explain why "ma puce" became just "Leila."
And it definitely doesn't explain why that feels like losing something she never really had in the first place.
********************************
Life comes at you fast when you're dealing with a passive-aggressive captain who's apparently graduated summa cum laude from the School of Petty. One full day in Brussels and Aurélien's really out here showing off his PhD in Being Difficult.
"Doesn't your boyfriend need you?" He doesn't even look up from his phone when she tries to review the training schedule.
Later, when she offers to make his protein shake (because some habits die harder than others): "I have two hands, don't I?"
"Men are so fucking sassy," she mutters to herself, watching him stalk off to training like she'd offered him poison instead of protein. She's trying to maintain her professional dignity but he's really getting on her nerves right now.
Her phone buzzing for the fifth time finally breaks through her Aurélien-induced irritation. Her mama's contact photo – one where she's giving that look all Black mamas perfect by age thirty – fills the screen. Shit. She's been so caught up in this mess she forgot to call back home.
"Hey mama—"
"Oh, so you do know how to use a phone? I was about to file a missing persons report."
It's morning in Atlanta, which means Jeanna Mae Peterson has probably been up since five in the morning, waiting to give her daughter the business.
"Everything's fine, mama. Just busy with work—"
"Mhm. And I'm Beyoncé. What's wrong with your voice?"
"Nothing's wrong with my—"
"Leila Alicia, don't you lie to your mama. I carried you for nine months and twenty-three hours of labor. I know when something's wrong."
The full name. Lord. She's really in it now.
"It's just... there's this whole thing with Aurélien and William and kissing and dates and—"
"Hold up, hold ALL the way up. You kissed Aurélien? Jesus be a fence, finally! Wait till I tell your grandma—"
"No, mama, not Aurélien. His teammate—"
"Girl, what? You out here being messy boots, dating some other man when you ain't even dealt with your feelings for the first one? I swear y'all kids nowadays don't know how to talk nothing out. Put Aurélien on the phone. I'm gonna air him out right quick."
"Mama, he's training—"
"He can talk during a break. Matter fact, I got his WhatsApp number, I'mma call that."
"Mama, don't—"
But the line's already dead because Jeanna Mae Peterson invented stubborn and passed it down double dose to her daughter. Leila's frantically calling back but her mama's phone is going straight to voicemail which means—
Aurélien's phone starts ringing across the training ground.
She's doing every gesture she can think of to tell him not to answer – hand slashing across her throat, waving arms like she's directing aircraft, mouthing 'NO' with the energy of someone trying to prevent a natural disaster.
But of course he answers anyway because the universe hates her specifically today.
"Allo? Ah, Mama Peterson..."
All she can do is watch his face as her mama presumably reads him the riot act in that special way Black mamas have mastered. His expressions shift from confused to surprised to something she can't quite read, and is that... is he smiling?
When he finally hangs up fifteen minutes later, he doesn't tell her what her mama said. But he does actually look at her when he asks for his schedule update. Actually says "Merci, ma pu-" before catching himself and walking away.
It's not much. But it's more than she's gotten in days.
She's definitely going to kill her mama though.
Right after she figures out what exactly that woman said to him. And why he almost called her 'ma puce' again.
*************************************
Lunch is an exercise in studying the fascinating world of how many ways one man can pretend another person doesn't exist. Aurélien's got his phone propped up against his water bottle, completely absorbed in whatever's on his screen even though she knows for a fact his notifications are turned off during match prep.
The final training session drags like it's being paid by the hour. Even Marcus and Mike keep their distance – one look at her face tells them tonight isn't the night to beg for soul food. She's not even sure she could cook right now if she wanted to. Her energy's somewhere between "completely done" and "contemplating a career change."
Back at the hotel, she makes it to her room through sheer muscle memory. The Real Housewives of Atlanta are waiting for her on her laptop, ready to provide the exact kind of messy drama she needs to forget her own. Her Uber Eats burrito is doing its best, but even comfort food feels like it's failing her today.
The knock at her door makes her pause mid-bite. Maybe if she stays very still, whoever it is will-
"I bought food," William's voice carries through the door. She looks down at her sad burrito accusingly. "It's Lebanese. I promised to bring you some, remember?"
For a moment she doesn't move, weighing the pros and cons of human interaction. But then the smell of whatever he's brought wafts under her door and her burrito suddenly looks even sadder.
She pushes her glasses up her nose, does a quick check that she doesn't have salsa on her face, and opens the door to find William looking unfairly good for someone who just did two training sessions. He's got bags of food in one hand and that smile that makes bad decisions feel like good ideas in the other.
She steps aside to let him in, trying not to think about how this is definitely not in any PA handbook she's ever read.
"So," William says, spreading containers across her bed like he's setting up an exhibition, "we've got fattoush, hummus with extra pine nuts because you mentioned you like them, shawarma that's going to have the nutritionist trying to kill us tomorrow, and-" he pulls out what looks like heaven wrapped in paper, "extra toum because food without garlic isn't food."
Her abandoned burrito sits forgotten on the nightstand, looking increasingly offensive next to this spread. William's already making her a plate, explaining each dish like he's giving a master class in Lebanese cuisine, and something in her chest gets warm at how much thought he's put into this.
"The lady at the restaurant probably thinks I'm crazy," he says, handing her a plate. "I kept pointing at things saying 'she'll love this' and 'oh she has to try that.'"
"You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." He settles next to her, close enough that she can smell his shower gel but not so close it feels presumptuous. "Besides, you looked like you needed saving from that sad burrito."
She can't help but laugh. "The burrito was doing its best."
"Its best wasn't good enough." He dips a piece of bread in hummus and offers it to her. "Try this instead."
The food is incredible, but it's the way he talks about it that makes it special. Every dish comes with a story – about his father and mother competing to see who could feed more people at family gatherings, his grandmother teaching him that love always tastes better when it's shared.
"It's like you with your soul food," he says, wiping some sauce from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "You don't just cook, you share yourself."
She looks at him – really looks at him. At this beautiful man who brings her dinner and understands what food means to her, who looks at her like she's something precious.
"Thank you," she says softly. "For sharing this with me."
His smile could light up Brussels. "You’re welcome."
Somehow they've migrated from sitting to lying down, empty containers pushed aside, William's mouth does unholy things to her neck. His hand is cupping her face like she's made of glass, the other one drawing patterns on her hip that are absolutely not PG-13, and her brain's having trouble remembering why she was ever stressed about anything.
Until she feels it.
Lord have mercy.
His very obvious excitement pressing against her thigh, and her virgin self immediately goes into panic mode. She freezes like someone hit pause, and William pulls back so fast you'd think she'd burned him.
"I'm sorry," he says, voice rough but eyes soft with concern. "We can stop."
"No, it's okay, I just..." she shifts away slightly, wondering if it's possible to actually die from embarrassment because what kind of grown woman freaks out over dick. "I should be the one apologizing."
"Why?"
"Because..." she stares at his collar instead of his face because eye contact feels impossible right now, "you probably have thousands of girls who would just..." she makes a vague gesture that she hopes translates to 'let you hit without all this drama' without having to actually say those words. "And here I am making you wait."
"True."
Her heart does this weird dropping thing, but then his fingers catch her chin, tilting her face up to his, and the look in his eyes makes her forget how to breathe proper.
"But I don't want them," he says, voice low and serious in a way that makes her stomach flip. "I want you, Leila."
"Why?" The question comes out barely above a whisper, all her insecurities wrapped up in one word.
William shifts back just enough to really look at her, and baby – the way this man's eyes can make her feel seen is almost too much.
"Because you don't pretend," he says finally. "Because you make soul food for an entire football team just to make them happy. Because you push up your glasses when you're nervous and wear bonnets to bed and actually care about us beyond what we can offer you."
Her heart's doing gymnastics in her chest. "That's not—"
"Because," he continues, pressing a kiss to her forehead that feels almost too sentimental, "you're real. And that's worth waiting for."
And what is she supposed to do with that? With this man who brings her Lebanese food when she's sad and kisses her like she's precious and says things that make her want to cry and jump him at the same time?
"Plus," he adds with that smug smile, "the way you cook? I'd wait years just for those wings again."
She smacks his chest but she's laughing, the tension breaking. "So you just want me for my cooking?"
"Among other things." His hand finds her waist again, gentler this time. "But mostly because you are you."
"Will..."
"We can take it slow," he says, pressing soft kisses along her jaw. "As slow as you need. I don’t plan on going anywhere."
Her fingers curl into his shirt of their own accord. "Even if it takes a while?"
"Even if it takes forever." His lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her toes curl. "Though maybe not forever-forever because honestly? You in that dress the other night almost killed me."
She can't help the laugh that bubbles up. Trust him to know exactly how to ease her anxiety while simultaneously making her want to kiss him senseless.
"So," he pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, "can I kiss you now? Or are we still having a moment?"
She answers by pulling him down to her, and for a while, she forgets about everything else.
Even if his dick is still making itself known against her thigh.
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The match against Belgium is already tense as hell when it happens. They're up 2-1, but it's been scrappy, ugly football – the kind that has tempers running high and tackles getting messy. Leila's been watching Aurélien get more and more wound up, his usual smooth control fraying at the edges with each challenge.
When the Belgian midfielder says something to him in the 76th minute – something she can't hear but definitely sees Aurélien react to – it's like watching a bomb go off in slow motion. The tackle is reckless, aggressive, absolutely deserving of the red card that follows, but the way Aurélien gets in the ref's face after? That's something else entirely. That's weeks of pent-up something spilling out all over the pitch.
It takes both Jules and Mike to pull him back, his face twisted with the kind of rage she's never seen on him before. The captain's armband gets handed to Ibou, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than in the middle of whatever this is.
William steps toward him as he's heading off the pitch, probably trying to calm him down, but Aurélien's shoulder check is brutal enough to make several people gasp. The look he gives William could freeze hell over twice.
"Don't," is all he says, but that one word carries enough venom to kill a man.
They manage to hold onto their 2-1 lead, but the victory feels hollow somehow. Especially when Aurélien doesn't even wait for the final whistle – just disappears into the tunnel like a storm cloud, leaving chaos in his wake.
Leila catches William watching him go, something complicated passing across his face.
This isn't about football anymore.
This isn't about football at all.
She's moving before she can think better of it, her press pass bouncing against her chest as she runs from her spot near the pitch toward the tunnel. Security knows her well enough to let her pass, but right now she probably looks wild enough that they wouldn't dare stop her anyway.
The tunnel feels endless, her footsteps echoing off concrete as she follows the sound of what's probably lockers being abused. She finds him in the away team room, radiating the kind of anger that makes the air feel thick.
"Leave." His voice is sharp enough to cut.
She takes a step forward instead.
"Leila. Get out."
But she can't. Not when he's like this, not when everything feels like it's fracturing. Her fingers catch his wrist, trying to... what? Comfort him? Stop him? She's not even sure anymore.
He yanks away like her touch burns, fixing her with a look that's equal parts fury and something else she can't name. Something that makes her chest hurt.
"Aurél-"
"Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Leila? Haven't I been a good person? A good boss?" His voice cracks on the last word.
Her lips purse in confusion, mind racing to catch up. "I'm sorry," is all she can manage because what the actual fuck is happening right now?
He's pacing like a caged animal, all coiled energy and barely contained rage. And then he starts – rapid-fire French pouring out of him like a broken dam, words she can't understand but tone that hits her right in the chest. He's gesturing, still pacing, voice getting louder and rougher with each passing second.
The first tears fall before she can stop them, not because she's afraid – never that – but because she's never seen him like this. Never seen him so... broken.
"I'm sorry," she whispers again, already backing toward the door. She doesn't even know what she's apologizing for anymore, just knows she needs to get out before she completely loses it.
She runs past the guys hovering in the hallway, catches William's face transform from worry to anger as he looks past her to where Aurélien's still going off in French.
The last thing she hears before turning the corner is their voices rising, angry words in multiple languages bouncing off concrete walls like bullets.
She doesn't stop running until she can't hear them anymore.
Until she can't hear anything but her own heart breaking.
She ends up in some random corridor of the stadium, mascara probably creating art on her face while she tries to get her breathing under control. Her phone's blowing up – probably Jules checking on her, maybe William trying to find her – but she can't look at it right now. Can't deal with any of this right now.
The sound of something hitting a wall echoes from somewhere down the tunnel, followed by raised voices that she can still make out even if she can't understand the words. French and English mixing into what sounds like a full-blown fight.
"Hey." Mike's voice makes her jump. He's standing there looking uncharacteristically serious, holding out a water bottle and what looks like clean tissues. "You good?"
She wants to laugh because nothing about this is good, but it comes out more like a hiccup. "Yeah, I just–"
"Need a minute?" When she nods, he slides down the wall to sit next to her. "Yeah, me too. Those two are..." he trails off, shaking his head.
They sit in silence for a while, just breathing, while the sounds of argument fade into something more distant. Her phone buzzes again but Mike gently takes it from her hands, turning it face down.
"Whatever's happening," he says quietly, "it's not your fault."
But isn't it? She's the one who complicated everything. She's the one who—
"Stop that." Mike nudges her shoulder. "I can hear you thinking from here. This isn't about you."
"Then what—"
"It's about them. About stuff they need to figure out." He hands her another tissue. "And about our captain being too stubborn to admit what everyone else already knows."
Before she can ask what he means, footsteps approach – multiple sets. She tenses, but it's just Marcus and Cama, both looking worried.
"They've been separated," Marcus reports, sliding down to sit on her other side. "Jules has Auré, Bradley's got Wilo."
"Proper mess, isn’t it?" Cama adds, joining their little floor party.
They sit there together, this weird little group therapy session on stadium concrete, until her breathing evens out and her hands stop shaking. Until the reality of everything that just happened starts to feel less sharp.
"Come on," Mike finally says, standing and offering his hand. "Let's get you back to the hotel. Pretty sure room service has ice cream, and if they don't, I'll make them find some."
She lets them shepherd her out, these boys who've somehow become family. Let them distract her with stupid jokes and commentary about anything except what just happened.
Her phone buzzes one more time as they reach the team bus. It's Jules:
Everyone's alive. Barely. But alive.
He's asking about you.
Both of them are.
**************************************************
The bus ride back to the hotel is quiet. Unnervingly quiet.
She sits between Mike and Marcus, her head resting against the window, watching Brussels blur past in fragments of neon and streetlights. The city feels different now – less magical, more complicated. Just like everything else.
Jules sits a few rows ahead, phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low murmur that never quite rises to a conversation. Bradley's in the very back, headphones on, staring out the opposite window with a look that could freeze fire.
"You want my headphones?" Mike whispers, nudging her. She shakes her head. Silence feels safer right now.
When they finally arrive at the hotel, the team moves like a fractured unit. No jokes, no post-match chatter. Just bodies moving through the lobby, each absorbed in their own gravitational pull of tension.
At the elevator, William and Jules carefully avoid looking at each other. Not anger. Something else. Something deeper that feels like it's happening in slow motion and at lightning speed all at once.
Her room key feels heavy in her hand. She knows Jules will be checking on her soon, will want to talk, will want to make sure she's okay. But right now, "okay" feels like a country she can't quite reach.
The shower runs scalding hot, water washing away stadium grit, tears, and the complicated residue of everything that just happened. Her makeup dissolves in streaks, mascara creating abstract art down her cheeks that she doesn't have the energy to wipe away.
A knock comes just as she's wrapping herself in the hotel's white terrycloth robe. Jules. Of course.
"Come in," she calls, knowing there's no point in pretending she needs privacy.
Jules enters, takes one look at her, and doesn't ask if she's okay. They both know the answer to that.
"Want some tea?" he asks, already moving towards the small electric kettle.
"God, yes."
They sit in silence. Some moments demand quiet more than words. Jules knows this – it's why he's always been her favorite, why he gets her in ways the others don't.
"So," he finally says, pushing a steaming mug towards her, "you want to talk about what just happened?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Which part? The part where Aurélien nearly started World War III in the tunnel? Or the part where he and William threw hands?"
Jules snorts. "All of it."
Her fingers curl around the mug, seeking its warmth. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Mhm," he says in a way that means exactly the opposite. "Nothing at all. Just our captain losing his mind, your boyfriend fighting, and you sitting in a hallway looking like you've been through the world's most emotional spin cycle."
"William's not my boyfriend."
"Sure," Jules drawls. "And I'm not the most handsome man on the team."
She throws a tissue at him. He catches it without looking, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.
"What do you want me to say?" she asks finally.
"The truth would be nice."
But the truth feels too complicated. Too raw. Too everything.
"You know what's wild?" Jules says after a moment. "Aurélien's never been like this before. Not about anything. Not anyone."
She looks up, catching something knowing in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Eight months I've watched him with you. Always careful. Always professional. Always..." he waves a hand, searching for the right word, "contained."
"And now?"
"And now?" Jules leans forward. "He's running around breaking shit and looking like he wants to murder William."
Her phone buzzes. William. She ignores it.
"He doesn't get to be mad," she says finally. "He's the one who walked away. Who stopped calling me 'ma puce'. Who—"
"Who what?" Jules prompts when she stops.
The truth slips out before she can stop it. "Who made me feel like I was just... okay."
Jules' laugh is sharp, unexpected. "Okay? Lei, that man has never thought you were just 'okay' a day in his life."
"He doesn't show it!"
"You're in love with him," Jules says suddenly. Not a question. A statement. "You guys are in love with each other."
"No," she protests immediately. "Absolutely not."
Jules leans forward, voice serious. "It's not fair to William. You know that, right?"
"I'm not doing anything wrong," she insists. "Aurélien had his chance. If he wanted something, he should have said something. "He needs to make a move. He's the man."
"Tu es têtue," Jules mutters. ("You are stubborn.")
"He needs to come to me," she continues, nodding.
Jules throws his hands up, cursing in French. "Putain de merde. You're both so fucking stubborn." He wipes his hands down his face, groaning. "Fine. Aurélien needs to grow some balls and you guys need to figure this out. And fast." He moves to the door, pauses, and with a cheeky grin calls out, "Bonne nuit, ma puce."
It's enough to make her smile, just a little. Just enough to soften the edges of the day's chaos.
************************************************
The private jet feels carved from ice. Leila's tucked herself in the back, pretending to work on her tablet while Aurélien sits opposite, professionally ignoring her existence.
"The match report," he says finally, voice clipped.
She keeps tapping on her tablet. Let him wait. Let him feel what being ignored feels like.
"Leila."
Nothing.
His fingers start that familiar drumming pattern on the table – the one that used to mean he was working through plays in his head. Now it just sounds like frustration trying to escape.
"The report," he tries again, softer this time.
Her fingers continue their dance across the screen.
"Ma p-" He catches himself. "Leila."
That gets her attention. She looks up finally, one eyebrow raised in a challenge that clearly says: you made this bed, now lie in it.
Something flickers across his face – something raw and real – before the captain's mask slips back on. The Madrid skyline approaches through the window, offering no answers.
"We need to talk."
"Do we?" Her voice could freeze summer.
"About what happened—"
"Which part?" The words come out sharp enough to draw blood. "The part where you walked away? Or the part where I was just… okay?"
His fingers curl into fists. "It's not that simple."
"Really? Because it felt pretty simple when you treated me like I was nothing."
The plane hits turbulence, forcing them closer for a moment. The physical proximity only highlights the galaxy of space between them.
"You don't get to be angry," he says, leaning forward. "You're the one with William."
"I'm not with William." She lets out a bitter laugh. "And even if I was, you walked away first."
His hand hits the table hard enough to rattle their water glasses. "I didn't walk away."
"No? What would you call it then?"
"I was trying to protect you," he says, something cracking in his voice. "From what people would say. From the gossip. From—"
"I don't need protection," she cuts him off. "I need honesty."
"You think I didn't want to say something?" His voice drops dangerously low, accent thickening with emotion. "You think I just…"
"'You think I just' what?" Leila presses when he doesn't continue. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've done a lot of acting weird but not a lot of explaining."
His jaw works like he's chewing on words he can't quite spit out. "It's complicated."
"No, calculus is complicated. This?" She gestures between them. "This is you not being able to handle… whatever this is. So I'm taking some time off."
"No." The word comes out sharp, almost panicked.
"Yes."
"You can't—"
"I can and I am. Some space will do us good." She starts gathering her things, needing to move to a different seat, to do something with this energy crackling under her skin. "Help you get over whatever this is you're going through."
"Leila—"
"Your uncle Bertrand hired me," she cuts him off. "Not you. Remember that."
The look on his face – like she just slapped him – almost makes her take it back. Almost.
But she's done waiting for him to figure out what he wants.
She's just done.
The Madrid tarmac appears through clouds that look like they're about to burst. Perfect weather for her mood.
"When?" His voice breaks through the landing announcements.
"Two weeks." She's already got her bag ready, already planning her escape route. "Starting tomorrow."
"That's not enough notice—"
"Your temp's already briefed. Sarah's good at her job."
The plane touches down with a jolt that matches the way his head snaps up. "Sarah? From ESN?"
"She knows your schedule. Knows the team." Leila keeps her voice professional even though her hands are shaking. "You'll be fine."
"I don't want Sarah."
"Well, that's who you're getting." She stands as soon as the seatbelt sign dims. "For two weeks, while I figure out if this job is still worth it."
She doesn't wait for his response, doesn't look back as she heads for the exit.
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The Ciudad Real Madrid facilities feel wrong without her footsteps echoing through the halls. Aurélien stares at his locker, still in his training kit, everything feeling off-balance.
"Putain," he mutters, splashing water on his face like it might wake him up from whatever nightmare this is.
Two fucking weeks.
Sarah from ESN keeps sending him perfectly formatted schedules, but they're missing the little notes Leila would add – reminders about his mama's favorite call times, warnings about which journalists to avoid, suggestions for post-training recovery that she definitely got from stalking medical journals.
His passes were shit today. Ancelotti had to call him out twice for being distracted, and Jude kept shooting him these looks like he was about to shatter. Maybe he is. Maybe that's why he keeps checking his phone between drills, keeps turning to share training ground gossip with someone who isn't there.
"Tu fais chier," he mutters to his reflection in the locker room mirror. His knuckles are white where they grip the sink edge, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. Because he hasn't.
The team's tiptoeing around him like he's a bomb about to go off. Even Camavinga's keeping his distance, which should be impossible given how that boy usually operates. But everything's impossible lately.
Sarah's efficient. Professional. Knows exactly what she's doing.
He fucking hates it.
She doesn't make his coffee right – too much cream, like she's trying to drown it. Doesn't know that he needs an extra five minutes before morning meetings to properly wake up. Doesn't push up her glasses when she's trying not to smile at his jokes.
Doesn't call him out when he's being difficult.
His uncle's words keep echoing in his head: "What did you do?"
What did he do? He protected her. Protected them both from the media circus that would follow, from the whispers, from everything that would make her job impossible. That's what he did. That's what he had to do.
Right?
But then he remembers her face in that tunnel in Brussels. Remembers how she looked at him on the plane. Remembers "your uncle Bertrand hired me" like a direct shot to the chest.
His phone lights up – Sarah confirming tomorrow's schedule. The sight of her name where Leila's should be makes his stomach turn.
One week down. Seven days of everything being almost right but completely wrong. Seven days of catching himself turning to share jokes with someone who isn't there.
Seven more to go.
If she comes back.
The 'if' sits in his chest like poison.
*****************************************************
Even Ocho knows something's wrong. The dog keeps bringing him Leila's favorite throw blanket that she left on the couch, whining at the front door around the times she'd usually arrive. Animals aren't supposed to be this emotionally intuitive, but here's his Belgian Malinois really out here making him feel worse.
Jude's been trying to drag him out, talking about some party at this new club that's apparently letting in half of Instagram's finest. Usually he'd be first in line – nothing cures what ails you like beautiful women and expensive liquor, right?
But then this girl at the club – all smooth brown skin and curves for days, exactly his type – pressed up against him on the dance floor and something felt… wrong. He couldn't even blame it on alcohol because he was stone-cold sober, watching everyone else get lit while he nursed the same whiskey all night.
Even his DMs are full of missed opportunities. Models, influencers, that one actress who's been trying to get his attention for months – all of them exactly the type of distraction he needs. The type of women who usually help him forget whatever's on his mind.
But pussy doesn't feel right when your heart's fucked up.
And that's what's really killing him. That somehow Leila managed to ruin him for other women without even touching him. That the thought of fucking his way through Madrid's modeling agencies (his usual go-to when shit gets heavy) feels wrong now.
His phone buzzes – probably Jude with another party invite, another attempt to get him out of his head. But unless the invitation is from a certain PA who's currently ghosting his entire existence, he's not interested.
Even praying feels different. His parents raised him right, taught him to take his troubles to God, but how do you pray about feelings you can't even admit to yourself?
"Je suis vraiment dans la merde," he tells Ocho, who just looks at him with those judgy dog eyes. Even his own pet is disappointed in him.
Five more days of this torture.
If she comes back at all.
The doorbell catches him off guard – he's been ignoring it for days, but tonight it's more insistent. Ocho's already at the door, tail wagging like he knows something Aurélien doesn't.
It's Cama standing there, phone held up with Jules' face on FaceTime.
"Je t'aurais laissé souffrir mais Jules m'a appelé," ("I would've let you suffer but Jules called me,") Cama says, already pushing past him into the house.
Ocho immediately attacks Cama with kisses while Jules' voice carries through the phone: "Tu as une tête de merde, mon frère." ("You look like shit, my brother.")
"Va te faire foutre," ("Fuck off,") Aurélien mutters, but lets Cama settle onto his couch anyway.
"Alors," ("So,") Cama starts, scratching Ocho's ears, "on va parler de pourquoi tu te comportes comme un connard?" ("are we gonna talk about why you're being an asshole?")
"Je ne vois pas de quoi tu parles." ("I don't know what you're talking about.")
"Leila," Jules says through the phone. "On parle de Leila." ("We're talking about Leila.")
Just hearing her name makes his chest tight. "Il n'y a rien à dire." ("There's nothing to say.")
"Rien à dire?" ("Nothing to say?") Cama laughs. "C'est pour ça que tu as l'air d'un zombie depuis une semaine?" ("Is that why you've looked like a zombie for a week?")
"Elle te manque," ("You miss her,") Jules says simply. "Admets-le." ("Admit it.")
"Ça n'a pas d'importance." ("It doesn't matter.")
"Pourquoi?" ("Why?") Cama demands. "Parce que tu as trop peur de dire ce que tu ressens?" ("Because you're too scared to say what you feel?")
"Tu sais que Wilo est sérieux avec elle?" ("You know Wilo is serious about her?") Jules' voice crackles through the phone, making Aurélien's jaw clench.
"Et alors?" ("And?") But his fingers are drumming that anxious pattern again.
"Pendant que tu joues au con, il la traite comme une princesse," Cama leans forward. ("While you're playing stupid, he's treating her like a princess.")
"Il lui apporte le dîner," ("He brings her dinner,") Jules adds. "L'écoute. La fait rire." ("Listens to her. Makes her laugh.")
"Bon pour lui." ("Good for him.") Aurélien's voice could cut glass.
"Non, pas 'bon pour lui'," ("No, not 'good for him',") Cama snaps. "Tu es amoureux d'elle et tu le sais." ("You're in love with her and you know it.")
The silence that follows is deafening. Even Ocho stops begging for attention to look between them.
"Je ne peux pas," ("I can't,") Aurélien finally says, voice rough. "C'est ma PA." ("She's my PA.")
"C'était ta PA," ("She was your PA,") Jules corrects. "Maintenant elle est la femme qui te rend fou." ("Now she's the woman driving you crazy.")
"Et qui rend Wilo heureux," ("And making Wilo happy,") Cama adds pointedly.
"Je leur ai dit de parler," ("I told them both to talk,") Jules sighs. "Mais vous êtes tous les deux têtus comme des mules." ("But you're both stubborn as mules.")
"Qu'est-ce que tu veux que je fasse?" ("What do you want me to do?") Aurélien runs his hands through his curls in frustration. "Que je ruine sa carrière? Que je la mette dans une position impossible?" ("Ruin her career? Put her in an impossible position?")
"Elle est déjà dans une position impossible," ("She's already in an impossible position,") Cama says quietly. "Entre l'homme qu'elle aime et l'homme qui l'aime." ("Between the man she loves and the man who likes her.")
That hits different. Aurélien's head snaps up. "Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?" ("What do you mean?")
"Tu crois qu'elle sort avec Wilo parce qu'elle l'aime?" ("You think she's seeing Wilo because she loves him?") Jules laughs without humor. "Elle essaie de t'oublier, crétin." ("She's trying to forget you, idiot.")
"Mais—" ("But—")
"Pas de 'mais'," ("No 'buts',") Cama cuts him off. "Tu as une semaine avant qu'elle ne revienne. Une semaine pour décider si tu vas la laisser partir ou te battre pour elle." ("You have a week before she comes back. One week to decide if you're going to let her go or fight for her.")
"Et si je la perds complètement?" ("And if I lose her completely?") The question comes out smaller than intended.
"Tu l'as déjà perdue en ne faisant rien," ("You've already lost her by doing nothing,") Jules says. "Au moins en essayant, tu sauras." ("At least by trying, you'll know.")
Ocho whines, head butting Aurélien's knee like he's agreeing.
"Une semaine," ("One week,") Cama stands, stretching. "Pour arrêter d'être un lâche." ("To stop being a coward.")
"Je ne suis pas—" ("I'm not—")
"Si, tu l'es," ("Yes, you are,") Jules interrupts. "Mais tu peux changer ça." ("But you can change that.")
They leave him with that thought, with Ocho looking at him like he's waiting for something too.
One week. One week to figure out if he's brave enough to risk everything. One week to decide if she's worth it.
She is. He's just been too scared to admit it.
Until now.
...................tbd
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shotmrmiller · 7 months ago
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simon who can afford a better flat than the budget friendly flat he lives in but won't move. johnny doesn't understand. he wants to blame it on simon being the enigmatic, intentionally perplexing man he tends to be but he has a flat.
he doesn't have to. he's got no significant other, no kids (that he knows of, god only knows if simon's got a bairn somewhere. it makes him heated thinking about it. he's it's uncle, damn it.) why does he rent here when living in base is free?
the question answers itself when he's over one evening, empty beer bottles on the table, amber glass reflecting the warm glow of the lone lamp overhead. the television is on, volume turned down, blending with the other sounds of the night— the distant barking of dogs, the quiet hum of simon's fridge, the occasional car passing by outside.
the conversation had died down already, not like they don't spend almost every waking breath with each other at work and they'd been sitting in a comfortable silence when there was a sudden, sharp knock at simon's door.
it startles johnny, reaction instinctive as he reaches for his hip, hand curling around the grip of his holstered gun but simon seems relaxed. he pins him with a look and mutters, "s'alrigh'."
what does he mean it's alright? it's 'witchin' hour'' as his mam calls it, who could possible be at his door? he cranes his neck to look and—
it's you, standing up here with a flour-dusted apron, small hands holding a warm pastry, the steam twisting and curling off of it. you're exude homely charm, soft face glowing from the corridor's light (or maybe it's at the sight of seeing simon, who knows?) he can smell it in the air, sweet, inviting.
what johnny finds interesting enough to send a quick text to kyle is how simon is looking at you. as if you're handing him more than just a custard tart, but also a little piece of heaven, a fragment of a dream he hopes to have one day.
"'m sorry, simon. i wasn't aware you had any company. i just really needed to stress bake or i would've gone off the deep end and end up in prison."
violent little bonnie. he can see the appeal.
simon cups his hands over yours (he definitely did it as an excuse to touch you) as he takes the treat. if you make food to unwind and give it to your neighbors, johnny oughta move in next door too. he'll never turn down free food.
"don't worry about it." johnny's eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the softness in his tone, bottle halfway to his lips.
clearly more than a passing fancy.
"i'll just uhm, if you're friend wants some too—" but simon gently interrupts you before he can ask for some of that sweet comfort too.
"he's not hungry."
cruel, cruel bastard. he'll remember this day, jot it down in his calendar. when he gets a girl of his own, he'll be sure to do the same.
johnny wonders if you've got a crick in your neck from looking up at simon as you speak hushed words, meant only for him. can he get at least a nibble of that tart?
you shoot johnny a shy ㅤsmile before turning around and simon closes the door, turning back to the warming beers, golden tart in hand.
even the plate it's on is cute.
"ah can see the hearts in yer eyes, lt."
johnny can practically hear the air parting as simon's fist cuts through it, aimed at his head. he avoids it with practiced ease. "ooh, touchy. ah'll leave ye be if i get a bite o' tha'."
he doesn't gets not even a crumb because simon is selfish.
(simon moved here purposefully because he knows you live here and can't be at peace without knowing where you are at all times. there's a tag inside your favorite pair of shoes you left out in the hall once to dry after a hard downpour. the bakery you work at is down the street, if he looks out the south facing window, he can see you going in and leaving work. he likes to let himself in your home and smell your cushions. took one of your shirts too but at least made sure it wasn't one of your faves. he has to wash it every other day)
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saturnicos · 11 months ago
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Giving a bracelet to them
With: Adam, Alastor, Angel Dust, Charlie, Lucifer
ps:: reader's gender is not mentioned
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. Charlie
She absolutely adores! Extra points if it have some decoration with rainbow.
She'll use all the time, only take off when goes to bed and when goes to take a bath — she is worried if she ends up breaking or losing the pieces, so try to be as careful as possible.
As she organizes and takes care of hotel paperwork she tends to feel stressed, and unconsciously looks at the bracelet, a smile forming and her spirits slightly picking up again. She's really happy with the gift.
"Wait, this's for me? Really? It's so pretty, thank you so very much!"
. Alastor
He... Definitely have it.
Like, don't get me wrong, he just not knows how really feel about it since he has never received a gift before from anyone, except from his mother.
Deep inside, he actually likes it! The color scheme matching with his clothes, and it isn't so much decorated and colorful; or how he would like to say, simple things are more pretty.
Alastor isn't using the bracelet frequently, most because he not like that type of accessories so much. He'll probably use when is far from you, like a way to remember of you and stuff (this man don't use phone not even if the world frozen), but in the most of the time the bracelet probably will be in the pocket of his coat.
"What do you have there, my dear? Oh, a bracelet, that's very interesting."
. Adam
He... Definitely have it/2.
But it's the opposite.
He's a bitch that will probably mock about it, but will quickly change when you feel upset and try to leave him alone, saying something like "Just joking, Sugartits/Hunk, I actually liked that, give me".
He'll use ALL the time, except when he's going to the extermination.
He will 100% brag about the bracelet to anyone when he gets the chance, saying how you spent your time making gifts for him (he's a complete idiot that loved this thing, but will never admit bc high ego lol).
Lute can't stand him talking about this damn accessory anymore, please, she begs you not to give him anything else.
TOTALLY extra points if it has a guitar pendant.
"Of course you make it for me, after all, you are madly in love with me"
. Angel Dust
Now, I think it's important to point out that Angel would act a lot more like Anthony with his S/O.
Using this as a base, he'll be SO happy receiving a gift from you. Obviously, he'll make some dirty joke about it, but deep down he wonders why he received it if it's not a specific date.
This poor boy is emotionally broken, little acts like this make him feel so moved and loved ☹️
Every time that him have a breakdown and isolates himself, Fat Nuggets comfort him, laying next to him and gently plays with the bracelet (or if he isn't using, Fat Nuggets will pick it up and take it to him, as if knowing it is an object of comfort).
"A gift? For me? You're so kind, baby~."
. Lucifer
Listen to me: this man would probably feel so much like crying — with joy — and nothing convinces me otherwise.
He'd passed the lasts seven years alone, without any love or compassion, having you in his life it's a great gift for him. Now, receive a gift from someone that he considers his greatest gift? God-
He would also be one of the will use all the time. Seriously, this guy probably don't take it off in any occasion, it's a regular reminder that there is someone else besides Charlie who loves him.
He's so grateful to have you.
Later, he'll make matching necklaces with duck pendants for you, he thinks that's a lovely way to say thanks :)
"What is this, sweetie? Oh... I'll use, that's so beautiful, thank you a lot."
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Thank you for read !! I'm so sorry if this is ooc, but I hope it was pleasant anyway :)
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itaipava · 3 months ago
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— little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.
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˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS
he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, he’ll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.
˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL
he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if you’re going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, “well, you’re going with me, aren’t you?” and when you can’t go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. he’s also always saying “we should check out that new place together… when are you free?” or “wouldn’t it be fun if you go with me for the next race?” he loves planting the idea of ​​future moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.
˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL
he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesn’t hide his anger, and it’s at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesn’t tease you just for fun.
˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ
he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.
˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC
he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.
˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON
he always compliments you a lot: but they’re not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like “you always have a way of making everything more fun and cool” or “you always seem to know the right things to say”, he’s always complimenting you, and he always means it.
˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI
he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows you’ll like. it’s things like “you popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to share” or “doesn’t this remind you of that joke you made?” and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.
˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON
he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether it’s to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like “did you see what y/n did? she’s amazing, right?” he is your biggest fan, and he doesn’t hide it from anyone.
˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN
he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he can’t get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when you’re distracted and don’t realize he’s looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what he’s looking at, he doesn’t stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.
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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months ago
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ok but office supplier is even funnier if jason hasn't been declared legally alive again and danny starts dating him thus allowing him to both be and not be part of the wayne family
"I have a date," Danny says one random morning as he refills the office snack bar. Danny, in his own words, is one of the highest-paid employees. He has chosen to create a snack center for all Wayne employees. He has one on every three floors, filling it with fruits, chips, chocolate, pudding, and drinks.
And a cabinet with free samples of stationery supplies he thought more people should know about. Next to the supplies, he wrote the name of the product, where to buy, and even recommendations of
Everyone felt really touched by this and started bringing snacks and drinks to help him. Half the time, Danny only refilled the stationary since everyone was happy to have a community snack bar.
"A what!?" Jack from accounting gasped. Danny didn't pay him any mind; he was too busy picking between the flower and moon mini-planners.
Both were pocket-sized, but one had a workout addition, while the other had a section to track books for readers. He felt like there were more readers than gym goers, but he didn't want either to miss out if he picked one over the other.
"A date," he responded after placing both options inside the basket. He'll have to wait to introduce the amazing erasable pens he found, but he could make it up next month.
"With who?" Demanded Sara. She worked in PR and had been attempting to have him attend at least three parties with the Waynes in the past month alone.
"Peter. I met him a week ago at a street fair. One of the personal pen makers I follow would have a booth, and I was dying to see them." Danny pulls a box from his pocket, showcasing the fancy navy blue pen. "This is the George Washington Battle of Princeton edition. It has the painting of the battle wrapped around it, with careful silver-golden details on the cap to resemble the colonial era and a golden-edged nib; this is one fine fountain pen. It cost me five thousand and nine hundred dollars."
"Danny, please focus- five thousand? You spent five thousand on a pen!?"
Danny puffs out his chest, smiling broadly. "It was worth every penny!"
"That's-never mind. Are you sure Peter is a good person?" Jack pressed, "Because I know a great man. Mr. Drake-Wayne! Wouldn't you rather go on a date with him?"
"But Peter bought me easrsers that were shaped like fried chicken. They came in bucket. See." He ramages through his bag until he pulsl out a palm-szed bucket with chicken shaped earses inside. "Isn't it cool?"
"I'll admit that's pretty cool," Sara conceded but shared a quick glance with her coworkers. Danny wonders why they all look so worried. This wasn't that expensive. Peter only used ten dollars for it. "Do you like Peter?"
"I don't know. It's just a first date." He shrugs. "I don't usually have those. Not many people are willing to listen to me ramble about stationary."
"You know who would love to listen to you?" Jack throws an arm around Danny's shoulder. "Mr. Drake-Wayne!"
"Mr. Grasyon-Wayne!"
"Mis Wayne!"
"Mr. Wayne!" Everyone turns to stare at Gary, who flushes, "Bruce Wayne, not Damian!"
That caused some head nods and a few scattered comments about how the age gap was still alarmingly large, but if both were consenting adults, who were they to oppose it? Danny stared back as everyone debated whether Danny and Mr.Wayne should date.
He glances down at his heart-shaped notepads and figures they are right. It's not like he has any feelings about this date. He just agreed to get the passers.
Taking out his phone, he sends Peter a message to cancel their date. He should go out with someone because he likes them, not because they may allow him to discuss his interests.
Jason despairs somewhere on the other side of town as he reads the text for his second persona- a living citizen Peter Todd- from the guy who he saw at the street market going gaga over pens. The guy was so cute, too.
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werecreature-addicted · 1 year ago
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i love the idea of a werewolf best friend who is totally in love with you and keeps trying to court you but since you're human you're just thinking he's being thoughtful or something
but he busts every night to the thought of you crying into the pillow, his heavy body pressing onto you and pushing you to the mattress, as he fucks his fat cock into you, trying to knot you and knock you up
want so badly to mark you as his that when he even gets a glimpse of your neck/shoulders he salivates and gets hard
werewolf courting is a subtle thing- really it's more about keeping others away from you than winning you over. you don't see all the sharp glares he sends to other people. or the way he snaps at his other friends for mentioning how cute you look.
he's sweet to you. he gives you bites off his plate. and almost always brings you a drink or snack when you hang out together. he'd be leaving kills on your doorstep but apparently it "freaks out the neighbors" and "you don't know what to do with a whole deer carcass" or whatever. humans are so hard to please. those silly little candies you like can't be very filling but he can't shake the urge to feed you. so he does.
He's also very protective. he always walks/ drives you home at the end of the night. he'll be by your side in an instant if you call for him and god help any idiot who tries to fuck with you.
Also, his home is always open to you. if you ever want to come over randomly or borrow something- what's his is yours. you don't realize how territorial he is with everyone else because he's always so generous and giving with you. especially with clothes!! if you want a sweatshirt or a pair of shorts, they're yours. he loves little things like that to make you smell like him.
To any other werewolf, any one of these things would be a clear indication of romantic interest. I mean- the guy lets you eat off his plate! do you have any idea how territorial wolves are with food? No! Of course, you don't you're human. all of it feels normal to you. there might be other things that you take for flirting that he's doing on accident. but really you think of him as a really good friend.
it's hell on your werewolf. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong. he's a perfect mate for you, but you never seem to acknowledge his flirting as something romantic. he hates it when you stretch your head to the side, baring your neck to him, it's like you're begging to be marked. and by "hates" I do mean it gets his mind spinning. it's like you have no idea how hard it is not to bite you sometimes.
He can't help himself. he will keep going until you accept him because he knows that you're the one for him. so he walks you home for the night then goes back to his place, alone, and lays in bed thinking about you.
at first, it's nothing dirty. he's just wondering what the two of you will do when you hang out next, then he's wondering what you're doing right now. did you take a shower? did you go straight to bed? what do you sleep in when you're all alone? what if you sleep in just your underwear- or naked.
he's hard. he always is when he lets himself think about you too much. he can't help it. so he starts touching himself while he lets his mind wander.
it would feel good to bite your neck. it would feel better to bite the soft sensitive skin of your inner thigh. he wants to mark you while he fucks you. he wants to own you inside and out. he knows you'd take his cock well. it's big but you don't mind, right? you'd like a little pain with your pleasure.
he thinks about all the different positions he could put you in. he thinks about you ridding his cock, about flipping you over and pinning your knees to your chest so he can see your face as he ruins you.
he cums all over himself imagining you screaming- begging him to knot you. he can only hope one day his little fantasy will become a reality.
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hairmetal666 · 9 months ago
Text
TW for internalized homophobia and related bad decisions
Steve is 12 and he thinks about finding his soulmate all the time.
You're supposed to find them through touch; your life together will flash in front of your eyes. They're rare, though, soulmates. So rare that most people never find theirs. So rare that some people say they're made up.
Steve wants to be one of the lucky few. He wants it to be a true, unbreakable bond, a love he gets to have forever.
He wonders if he'll find his soulmate at school. He's popular, he thinks. Tommy would say they were popular. But Tommy's definition of popular mostly has to do with the number of kids he can get away with being mean to, and that's not really Steve's deal. Tommy is like a prey animal, the way he can find weaknesses.
There's a new boy at school. Steve doesn't know his name, but they have English together. He's too thin, with huge brown eyes, and all his clothes are too big. His head's been inexpertly shaved and he never looks anybody in the eye. It's only a matter of time before he catches Tommy's interest, and Steve wishes he could stop it somehow, but he's never been good at going against Tommy.
The day comes, of course. They're standing in the hall, the new boy walking towards them, head down, as always. Tommy nudges Steve says, "What a loser."
And Steve shrugs, starts to ask Tommy about football, if the Colts can make the Super Bowl, but the boy is nearing and Tommy is cackling.
"Watch this." Tommy sticks his foot out.
The boy doesn't react fast enough. He falls forward with a bitten off yelp, and Steve moves without really thinking, only knows he can't stand to see him fall. He catches the new kid beneath his armpits, Steve's thumbs brushing the soft skin his arms.
The world around him falls away at the touch.
---
He's sitting on the floor in the band room, Eddie--the boy's name is Eddie--next to him. Eddie's hair is a little longer and Steve's in a green polo he doesn't recognize, and he's never been in the band room in his life. They're leaning into each other and laughing and Eddie's so beautiful.
---
They're in the woods--Skull Rock, Steve thinks. Eddie's hair is curled and frizzed around his chin, and he's laughing, his cheeks pink, his dimples prominent. He tries to pull his hair in front of his face, but it's not long enough yet to reach. Steve is overwhelmed, wants to kiss him so bad. He's never had to wait to kiss someone, or been unsure, or--
He wants to kiss Eddie.
So, he does.
It's hard, desperate, not the first kiss Steve expected, but then they've been waiting for so long.
---
Steve stands in the hallway of Hawkins High. He's wearing a striped, beige short-sleeved polo, and flirting with Nancy Wheeler.
He likes Nancy, she's pretty and smart and fun. And it's easy. He can hold her hand. Can introduce her to his parents. Can take her on dates and kiss her in public.
She bats her big blue eyes at him, and he can't help but kiss her.
He pulls away gently, brushing his thumb against her cheek, and when he looks down the hall, Eddie is there, frozen. His mouth is wide, his eyes glassy.
Steve thinks the way his heart stutters must be what dying feels like.
---
He's sitting on his diving board, facing away from the pool. He smokes a cigarette and there's a bat studded with nails at his feet, what the fuck. Music thuds, shrieks and laughter seep into the cool night air.
He should be playing the gracious host. He should be having a good time. Instead, his eyes search the woods and he taps another smoke out of the pack.
"Harrington?" The voice makes him jump, hand flexing around the bat handle. "It's freezing out. What are you doing?"
He recognizes the voice now, doesn't turn, doesn't respond, can't stand to see another person he let down; another person who could call him bullshit and be 100% correct.
"Do you not have a jacket? C'mon, man."
Something warm settles over his shoulders, and he inadvertently breathes in weed and leather and cedar. He squeezes his eyes shut, like that will make the comforting, familiar scent go away. He'll have to move to shrug off the jacket, though, which would mean acknowledging Eddie's presence.
"Can you at least say something, Harrington? You're freaking me out."
"I'm fine, Ed--Eddie." The nickname falls from his lips too easily. He doesn't miss how Eddie flinches.
His hair is long now, down to his shoulders, brittle looking in the cold. He's wearing a t-shirt and worn flannel, arms wrapped around his chest for warmth now that his jacket is draped over Steve's shoulders.
Steve is an idiot. He's such an idiot. Chasing after Nancy when Eddie is--
"I'm sorry," he says. He turns to face his soulmate, then. "I'm sorry about Nancy, I--"
Eddie jerks back like he's been hit. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snarls.
---
He sits in the back of an ambulance, eyes swollen shut, face throbbing. He's wearing a sailor suit for inexplicable reasons, which is almost more upsetting than the ambulance. He smells like puke and something toxically sweet.
A girl is with him, one he doesn't recognize, but he feels deeply, instinctively protective of her. He holds her shaking shoulders tight, tries to whisper comfort to her through his busted and bleeding mouth.
He's pretty sure he has a concussion.
"Steve!" Someone screams over the sounds of the EMTs and firefighters, of the building burning and collapsing behind them.
Eddie bursts through the gathered onlookers and past the ring of police cars enclosing them. He's falling into the ambulance before Steve has a chance to react.
"Sweetheart," Eddie sobs. He tries to cup Steve's face, but his fingers flutter around the damage. "Sweetheart, oh my god. I came as soon as I heard. Are you--what can I--"
Steve stares at him--his hair falling from its messy bun, his cutoff Metallica tee, concern and love leaking from those brown, brown eyes--and bursts into tears.
---
They sit on the roof of his house, sharing a joint back and forth. It's chilly, bordering on cold, winter just on the horizon. They're laughing, leaning into each other, and Steve is--he's happy. Elated. Could float away with it.
Robin--Robin-- is in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen for snacks, and it's just them for now. They're looking at each other, smiles wide, eyes bright.
They're taking it slow. Steve knows it's important, after what he did. They talked about it, his abandoning of Eddie for Nancy, chasing what his dad told him was normal and expected.
He doesn't want to cross any boundaries, wants to do this right. How Eddie deserves. But they're leaning into each other and they're smiling, and he's so in love. Intoxicated with it, lost.
In the end, he doesn't know who makes the first move, just that they're kissing and it's like coming home.
---
He's in a building, a shed or something. It's musty and dirty, smells like oil and gasoline and a building left closed up too long. Eddie's in his arms and he's talking through hiccuping sobs.
"I didn't save her, Steve. I didn't help. I just left her there! She was broken in pieces and I--I--"
Steve holds him close, tight, squeezes his eyes closed to stop his own tears from falling. He never wanted this for Eddie, never wanted him involved. Thought he could protect him from all of Hawkins's terrible things.
They aren't alone. Robin is there, coming up to hold Eddie too, plus a redheaded girl and curly haired boy he doesn't recognize.
"We'll figure this out, Eddie." The boy promises.
"We won't let anyone hurt you. We know you didn't murder Chrissy," the girl says.
---
Steve is in a world he doesn't understand, and Eddie is his arms. Eddie is in his arms, and there's blood everywhere. He's not awake, he's not--his heart beat is soft and slow, too slow, and his breathing stutters, and Steve can't--
"Baby, stay with me." He begs as he runs across the dead and rotting landscape. "Eddie, please. Wake up, okay? Wake up for me. I need to--I need to know that you're alright."
Eddie stays limp in his arms.
"Please," he begs. "You can't leave me. We promised, remember? We promised we'd be together forever. The rest of our lives. Me and You. Our six little nuggets. You promised."
The portal back to Hawkins is less than a dozen feet away, he's so close. Eddie gasps to consciousness, but his eyes are still hazy.
"Hi, sweetheart," he mumbles.
"Hey, hi, you're doing so good. We're almost out, okay? We're almost out and we'll get you to the hospital."
Eddie reaches out a weak hand, touches the edge of Steve's jaw. "Love you, Stevie," he whispers. "Glad you were mine."
He goes still in Steve's hold.
---
The images come faster now--
A hospital room at Hawkins General, Eddie hooked to machines. Steve holds hands with an older man. They wait in terrified silence
Eddie propped in a bed, a bunch of kids around him, Steve and Robin at his side. His eyes keep sliding to Steve, like he's making sure Steve's real, that he's still there
Their bodies tangled together in a bedroom Steve doesn't recognize
Steve down on one knee in a marble room lit only by black and red candles, Eddie standing in front of him
Hand-in-hand on a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, stands in front of them with tears in his eyes and a beaming smile on his face
In a big, green yard behind a cozy little house. A little boy with Eddie's eyes and curls riding on his shoulders. Eddie sprinting around with a tiny girl giggling after him, perfect imitation of the King Steve hair-do on her tiny head
In a park, surrounded by family and friends. Steve has a little bit of a paunch and wears glasses. Eddie's hair streams around his shoulders, going grey at the temples. There's a banner strung between trees proclaiming 'Happy 20th Steve and Eddie!' They're surrounded by everyone they love and it's perfect
---
The images flash too fast for Steve to catalog after that, seconds-long glimpses of a shared future, and then he's back in his body in the hallway of Hawkins Middle, still holding too tight onto Eddie's arms.
Eddie rears back, face pale and terrified, and Steve is too shocked to do anything but let him go.
Tommy's yelling, but Steve only has eyes for his soulmate, who scrambles to his feet and throws himself down the hall away from them.
"What the hell, Harrington? Why'd you catch him? That was about to be funny as hell! I bet he'd have broken his nose--you ruined it!"
Steve isn't listening. He's trying to hold on to the memories of their life together, the ones that are already fading.
The last thing he remembers is that, sometime in the not-too-distant future, he'll find his way to the band room, Eddie Munson, and the rest of their lives.
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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 10 months ago
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How the kings would react to the shipping of them and MC
Satan
He was hanging out with his nobles, just talking gossip like normal people
But Paimon was just staying on his phone through half the conversations
"Paimon! What's so important that you're not interested in seing Sitri's baby pictures?"
Sitri was dying in the corner while Zagan was rubbing his back
Paimon takes his eyes out of his phone and giggles.
"Oh, I was just arguing with some people onlineeee"
Satan puts down the pictures of baby Sitri on the table (which Astaroth swiftly takes for himself. This will make such great blackmail material) and sits next to Paimon curiously.
"What are these dumpass arguing about now? Don't tell me Leraye started sending death threats to Barbatos over the weather again."
"Noooooo, it's better than thaaaaat. People are arguing about who the child of Solomon would dateeeee"
Satan takes Paimon's phone and starts to scroll through the comversations.
"And I'm winning, right? I mean MC has a pact with me, I was the first to meet them, it's obvious that I'm the one they'll choose"
"I know, riiiiiight?"
Satan would become the most active person in the shipping forum, just spamming it with pictures of him and MC
It's a way to assert his dominance over the whole thing.
Gamigin almost started a war between Paradise Lost and Gehenna when he started insulting Satan under his photos of MC
Mod Jjok had to work overtime to stop the harassment everyone in Gehenna was throwing at Gamigin for that
Lucifer had to send a formal apologise on behalf of his son to stop the situation from escalating further.
Mammon
Recently Eligos asked him to try on different fashion styles
At some point Mammon asks Eligos what this is all about
"The child of Solomon mentioned that they are interested in gothic fashion, so I'm trying to see what clothing would fit you and abide by goth fashion rules."
Mammon chuckles and ruffles Eligos' hair before telling him that he is already to his master's liking
"But there are a lot of people that claim that MC would be more interested in the other kings. We can't have that! Just yesterday Amon was bragging that MC and Beelzebub went on a date!"
"I'm glad they had fun with Beelzebub, but Beelzebub is mine and I am MC's. They can have fun with anyone they please."
Eligos' jaw drops to the floor. He gets flashbacks of all the arguments he had online about this and how he bought bots to mass report any Mammon x Mc slander
Eligos constantly tries to convince Mammon that the shipping wars are a big but Mammon doesn't really care.
At most he sends pictures of him and MC cuddling to Satan to spite him like all good friends do with eachother.
Leviathan
Leviathan is a lurker through the forums
It's where he got most of his information about you before kidnapping you
Probably reports all posts that aren't for the ship with him and you for false information
He would constantly post pictures of you and him doing mundane things with captions like "Living life perfectly", "Greatest day of my life", "Me and my wonderful significant other"
Makes everyone in Hades like his post and floud it with compliments
He'll make an account for you where he roleplays as a version of you that's madly innlove with you
The most likely to start an actual war between Hades and whatever ship is trending that morning
He sometimes doesn't sleep and just scrolls through the forums, refreshing constantly to see if you're having fun with someone else
King of all doxxers
No VPN will protect you from Leviathan's wrath
Beelzebub
Beelzebub was tied to his office chair with Bael glaring at him
"Go on, look at the complaint. What does it say?"
"I should take a vacation. I'm already burned out. You know, overworking is very bad for your health."
Bael glares at him with not an ounce of amusement behind his eyes
When Beelzebub skims through the files, something catches his attention
"Threat of war from Hades? I don't remember going to Hades recently, what happened?"
"While you were away having fun with the child of Solomon, Amon posted pictures of you two going at it on a forum. Next thing I know, his majesty Leviathan declared war on Avisos. I had to talk him out of it, but we now have to write a report about what happened and send it to the other kingdoms to tell them that it was resolved without any casualties."
Beelzebub was laughing his ass off while Bael was question his life choices
Beelzebub asks Amon to show him the forum which the younger devil does happily.
He sometimes go through it often, but he uses it as a way to find out where you are.
He's chiller about the whole thing, finding it kind of funny that so many people are so invested in your love life
Lucifer
Gamigin won't shut up about it.
If Lucifer took a shot every time Gamigin complained about the shipping wars, he'll dethrone Beelzebub as the king of Gluttuny
Lucifer is a softer lover, only being intense in more private parts of your relationship
So even getting him to kiss you in public (or outside the bedroom) is very hard.
This makes Gamigin's job as a shipper very hard
Lucifer finds the shipping war situation absurd
Why would anyone do this? What is it accompleshing? Why does he suddently get embargos from Hades or Gehenna after he goes on a date with you?
He'll probably have to sit Gamigin down and tell him to stop calling the other kings rude names just because they hang out with you.
It really depends on your reaction to everything as well
If you like being in the spot light, than he'll try to be more open with his affection, giving Gamigin more oportunities to gush about you online
If you want to keep your relationship more private, than he'll make all cameras fracture when pointing at the two of you
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whoreforwonwoo · 4 months ago
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Onggg but imagine hard dom!scoups or hard dom!wonwoo like what would they be interested in? But one thing ik for sure is that they're both interested in spanking, edging and overstimulation and at tye end of the night? You're crying with tears falling down your face and pussy battered,,
I was wondering if you'd be want to write what type of hard!dom they were? Would they be interested in bdsm? Bc as far as ik its always the quiet kids and c'mon scoups?? Oh he's just scoups
Omg. I think both wonu and coups would be interested in the same thing but a little different.
Hard dom!Wonwoo
• Spanking: it's a must. There wont be any punishment without spanking. Don't underestimate him though. Even if his hands are thin and not as big. He is skilled. He knows how to make it hurt. His hands won't stop beating your ass until it's sore and red. And ofc he WILL definitely use other tools like the paddle and the whip. He won't stop even if your crying and begging. Even when you're at your limit and close to passing out from the intense pain. He won't care. He needs to drive the lesson into your head. And he'll do anything to do it.
• BDSM: OK but I don't think he is the person to be into bdsm to much. But. If he needs to be rough with you in a particular way. He will use blind folds and handcuffs ofc.
• Overstimulation: OK. But I know that Wonwoo would definitely be interested in this. Like how can he not. He can over stimulate you almost everyday. But let's talk about those nights when he's a little too worked up. He'll tie your legs to the bed and Overstimulate you with a vibrator to the clit and his finger. He won't stop until you're sobbing and your legs are shaking badly. If you move too much. He would slap your pussy or pinch your clit hard. By the end of the night, your pussy is swollen and beaten up. But he'd still fuck you for the next 2 hours on his dick. So yeah...good luck to you.
• Breath play: something this man is totally good at. He would be pounding into you from behind and would just snake his hand up to your throat and squeeze it tightly. He would make you hold your breath for so long. Until you're struggling and and almost at the verge of passing out. He would slowly release your neck and let you cough and choke as you cry out when he starts to pick up his pace again.
Hard dom!Scoups.
• Spanking: this man isn't gonna let you go without spanking. His hands and fingers are big and thick. Don't think he'll go easy on you. He's serious. If you're already across his lap. That means you're in for a long beating. He won't stop until you're sobbing and begging.
• Bdsm: this man is all about bdsm. He wouldn't use tools on you. Nor would he use handcuffs and blind folds. But. He definitely has a good body to use on you. Soooo. I think he would be into fisting. Like mannnnn. He would just fist you one day out of frustration. And no begging and pleading is gonna stop him from pounding his fist inside you. Your pussy forcefully opened by him. It's painful yet so delicious.
• Deep throat: Something I think everyone knows Scoups would be into. I can just imagine him fucking your throat deeply and warning you to not use your teeth. But no matter how hard you tried. Your teeth only touched his dick inside you, and he's gonna make a REALLY BIG DEAL out of it. Trust me. He would slap you across the face hard and squeeze your cheeks together. "Wtf did I tell you. Huh?" He would ask before giving you another firm slap. Another thing is that he's BIG AF. He won't care if you choke on his dick tho. Your his cocksleeve. So he'll use you like one.
• Overstimulation: Even if he isn't into edging that much. He is into overstimulation. He would use his tongue on you for hours. Making you cum almost 4 times. After that he'll fuck you in all the positions possible. Trust me. At the end of the day. You've came so much you couldn't even cum anymore. But he won't care. He would spread your legs again, ignoring your pleas and cries for him to stop. He would force orgasm after orgasm after you until you've passed out.
Damnnn....I think I might make a oneshot out of this heheh.
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funficwriter · 1 year ago
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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!
A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!
Warnings; None, really.
Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)
Lyney
First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!
If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.
(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)
Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.
He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.
If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.
"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."
Lynette
It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.
She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.
She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.
Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.
"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".
She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".
Neuvillette
You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.
For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.
First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.
He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.
(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)
If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.
While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...
"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".
Navia
She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!
If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.
Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.
Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.
She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.
With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.
"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".
Furina
"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"
Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.
She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!
One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.
She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.
"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"
If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3
Wriothesley
"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".
Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.
Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".
So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.
"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".
I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜
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potheadkiki · 7 months ago
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HII... hear me out. Pool sex with katsuki..??
I know you want pool sex but honestly sex in one of those hot springs sounds so much better
⚠Warning⚠
18+ content
Bakugo being a simp but refusing to admit it
Pet names (princess, angel, babe, etc)
Some slut shaming but it's fine
Chubby reader
Bakugo is 6'4
Reader is goth
Marijuana
Reader has the ability to sonic scream similar to black Canary
Side note I am taking more requests if anyone is interested
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After UA everyone is class 1-a kept in close contact. Coincidentally both you and Bakugo are in neighboring agencies and see each other quite often at mixers and group parties. One day both agencies claimed that after the most recent villain attack that everyone needed to take a break so each company decided that every hero draw a number and the two heroes that drew the same number would leave for a week to go to an all expenses paid spa with traditional rooms and a private hot spring bath. Today was no different, everyone is lined up and as one of the assistants comes along with a jar everyone grabs a piece of paper, today's number was 78, unfolding your little piece your heart stops, 78 in bold is staring back at you, stepping forward claiming the first spot wondering who you'll be going to the resort with. The agency is on FaceTime and you watch as Bakugo steps forward on the screen holding the same number as you and you feel as your stomach flips your going to be alone with him for a week, he'll be in one of those kimonos and as you imagine it your face heats up. You've been in love with this guy ever since your days at UA he'd never see you that way of course you may be smart and have a sonic scream but you're also a slacker pot head from the US. You hear as everyone cheers for you and congratulates you on being able to take the week off with Bakugo no less. Finishing up the rest of your shift trying to ignore all the comments everyone is making some rude or snarky, your friends however made encouraging remarks and how this could be your chance to seduce him. As your day comes to an end your phone vibrates looking at it your heart races
Bakugo: Guess you're gonna be in my space for a week huh?
Reading the message you laugh he hasn't changed really
You:Yeah I guess so huh you'll just have to forgive me
You reply attempting to be a little flirty but also keep the same energy
Bakugo: I'll find some way you can make it up to me don't worry
Reading that your heart is basically in your asshole I mean how are you supposed to respond to that. You're going to be alone with him and now the entire time this will be all you can fucking think about.
You: yeah you do that lol
You reply trying to defuse the situation and not think about having the best sex life could possibly give you
Bakugo: oh don't doubt me I will
You have no idea what to say simply telling him that you'll see him in the morning and to sleep well.
--next day
You make your way to the agencies where they have a company car that they'll give you unfortunately you don't have your license so that means Bakugo will have to drive he just scoffs at that but you smile
Putting your things in the trunk you're kinda nervous honestly the only bathing suit you have is a bikini with mushrooms that is kinda low cut. Grabbing the special blanket with dragons on it that you've had since high school and need with to sleep successfully, slipping in the passenger seat getting comfy. Bakugo seeing this and scoffing again before saying
"Look at you fucking passenger princess ass" you blush at that he wasn't being mean or rude
"It's a three hour drive bakugo I wanna be comfy"you say shyly holding your blanket close to your chest
"Yeah yeah whatever get comfy then princess it's gonna be a long drive" he says placing the car in reverse putting his hand on the back of your seat watching as he turns his head to see where he's going before pulling out of the parking spot once he's out he puts the car in drive and your face goes red not only did he just call you princess but he did that thing when driving too not realizing the smirk on his face as he pulls on the highway the smirk of victory.
Bakugo has been thinking about this since yesterday morning he's going to get a week with you alone completely. He's basically been in love with you ever since you transferred to the hero course here in Japan. You're smart, kind, beautiful, and you rarely care what others think of you and he loves that. He's aware you smoke it helps with your quirk apparently. He has discovered that he has quite a thing for watching you smoke. The way you purse your lips and inhale, the way you lick your lips when dry, the way the smoke escapes past your lips. Fuck he needs to focus on driving he can't be hard right now. Taking a quick glance towards you he sees you cuddle up with said blanket, only one earbud in with something playing on your phone, you however seem interested. He doesn't want that. He wants to talk to you, he wants to be at the center of your attention. He knows its toxic and crazy since he himself needs to focus on driving but that doesn't mean they can't talk. Right?
"Put your phone down and talk to me. If I fall asleep at the wheel it's your damn fault." He says glancing in your direction.
"If this is your way of asking for me to start a conversation with you then I definitely feel like you could have done that differently but okay" you say huffing out a laugh before continuing the conversation
"What's the first thing you want to do when you get? I know personally I want to soak in that gorgeous hot spring maybe smoke a little joint, if its okay with you of course." He watches you say that with a cheeky smile. Maybe he'll join you this week is after all supposed to be relaxing and that does sound quite nice.
"what a dumb question of course imma see if they have a gym" you rolling your eyes thinking naturally
"Then find some to eat maybe and maybe in between everything I'll join you if I feel like it of course." He says side eyeing you with a slight smile only to catch that you're sporting a similar cheeky smile with pink cheeks. And that's how it went for the next three hours idle chit chat and stupid questions mostly. So when he pulls up to this large log house that has steaming chimney your pupils basically turn into hearts. It's gorgeous the way the sun hits against the large mountains and shines through the trees god you never want to leave and you haven't even stepped into the building.
Once you've both registered with secretary and got your room key (turns out its one of those two in one rooms with a single bamboo room divider) but bakugo opted for just opening the divider doors claiming they'res just more space this way they would have had to share the hot spring anyways since it's a connected room and all. Most of the time they were assigned to people with relativity large families or two pro heroes on vacation. He watches in amusement as your eyes light up again before turning back around and clapping your hands together exclaiming 'right' turning your head to face him giving a soft smile
"I'm about to pack a cone and change into my bikini would you like to join me for a soak and smoke if will" He rolls his eyes at that god you can be so corny sometimes but he listens as you go on
"Then we could find some place to eat or order in either or I don't care"
"yea whatever just let me know when you're done I'm not gonna sit around in my damn trunk" He says with a slight blush thinking of the two of you together alone in a steamy bath while you wear a bikini, fuck he feels like a teenager again and he hates it. He manages to busy himself which in hindsight could have been a mistake because when he hears you clear your throat, whipping his head around he's faced with you in a mushroom styled bikini top that hugs your tits perfectly, realizing just how big they are considering you usually wear large/baggie t-shirts, and a simple pair of black bottoms that hug your ass perfectly, letting a groan slip past his lips as he stands up quickly
"Jesus woman you scared the shit out of me, just wait for me outside I'll be out there in like 10 minutes" he says not making eye contact with you as he walks away. You step outside washing yourself off before heading over and sitting at the edge with your feet dangling into the water, gently moving your feet back and and forth in a swishing motion making sure no water actually splashes up at you, not yet at least, lighting a joint with wet hands is a real bitch, your thoughts only really stopping when you hear the pitter patter of bakugos bare feet against the smooth rock turning your head you give him a smile
"Hey I waited for you before smoking I wasn't sure if you wanted to or not but if you did we could share" You say with that stupid smile while holding up said joint and an ORAGNE lighter he doesn't know why but it makes his heart jump at the thought that maybe you bought it thinking of him little does he know how right he actually is.
"Okay jesus let me rinse off first before you start rushing me" Rolling your eyes at this but giving a slight okay anyways. You can't help as your eyes follow his every movement watching as his back muscles flex and constrict due to his movements. Blush enveloping your face and a little of your neck god your going to be spending a week here with this man. Bakugo being a little tipsy as he took some shots of Soju to help calm his nerves but its doing the exact opposite maybe smoking will help he thinks when he smells it, the potent stench of marijuana. Turning his head he watches as you stand up water splashing as you walk towards him with the joint between your lips gently sucking and exhaling the smoke, he watches as your hips sway walking towards him, getting close to his face pushing said joint up against his lips as a silent plea to open his mouth and when he does you get a full whiff of alcohol and you take a step back as you look at him
"Were you in there drinking? Whats up? You know you can tell me anything right?" You say leaning down a little to make sure you force eye contact since he's been avoiding it. You watch as he groans and takes a hit before coughing slightly and handing the joint back to you without saying anything he steps into the water submerging himself halfway into the steaming water before looking back at you as a silent way of asking if your coming or not and you do walking over and you sit next to him smoking the joint a little, looking at him as he scratches the back of his neck almost ashamed, opening his mouth but he doesn't say anything so you hand him the joint again, he's clearly nervous, taking it from your hand he inhales harshly handing it back to you as he falls into a small coughing fit. Watching as he sputters a little, laughing at him a little amused, getting in closer to gently rub his back and help calm his breathing again. Not realizing that in getting to close your breast have pressed up against his side in hopes of calming him down
"Okay i'm fine now so you can move" He says shifting away from you and you smile a little giving a short 'sorry' you say looking at him in hopes that since you moved away he would tell you whats wrong with him
"Okay so we met in ua and you've always been so annoying with that damn smile of yours and the way you laugh,being able to light up a room with a single twinkle from your eye and that isn't even your quirk, I remember thinking for a split moment that maybe you were just like icy-hot with two of em but no and even after all that your damn smile was still to bright. Then we got put in neighboring agencies and we drew this dumb fucking lottery" And threw this whole interaction you could tell he was getting frustrated and you weren't entirely sure where he was going with this but it clearly has something to do with pent up feelings so you grab his hands taking a leap of faith pushing them against your chest getting closer looking at him with pleading eyes
"Please don't stop. I want to hear what you have to say. All of it." You say holding his hands tight against your breast and you watch as he looks away a blush spreading to the tip of his ears
"Fuck I just- I don't know I'm still trying to figure how to say shit" he says quickly and you realize that's true he's always been a man of action
"Well don't say anything then" you say gripping his hands pressing your breasts harder into his arm getting closer, he looks at you thinking that maybe it's the alcohol or the weed but whatever it was he could feel his inhibition lowering along with his head as his lips connect with yours, groaning as you push your chest up against his, slipping into his lap as his arms wrap around your waist possessively squeezing you tight, pulling away you giggle at his possessiveness
"Why you squeezing me so tight?" You say laughing a little more and he hides his face in your breasts before mumbling something and you grip his hair a little which seems to get the memo as he pulls away
"Like hell I'm letting you go now" he mumbles hiding his face in your neck as his hips rut up against yours causing you to gasp out changing angles which puts his face right in between your breasts as his grip on you tightens and his rutting becomes rougher the water begins of the hot springs sloshing with his movements as you grip his hair grinding down and meeting his thrusts until he suddenly stops causing you to let out a whine and he pulls away from your chest much to his dismay chuckling
"I'm not cumming till I get to feel that pussy wrapped 'round me" he says almost slurred as his eyes droop grabbing your ass roughly as he picks you up sitting you on the stone side and you shiver arching your back against him
"It's cold Suki" you say whining as you feel goosebumps spread across your body and he just rolls his eyes
"You'll be fine. I gotta open you up baby" he says and you blush you've only had sex three times neither of them enjoyable which is something you should probably admit but you don't want to ruin the mood because you want to be with him and you can feel your mind running
"Hey speak up tell me to stop" he says and you grip his hand
"No! God no please. I want to be with you but I've only done this a couple of times and none of them enjoyable so I don't want to disappoint you with my own inexperience. But it's not like I think this will be bad or anything and that's another reason I'm nervous" you say but realize that you've been rambling quickly but you see as his eyebrows scrunch
"So you're worried that you won't be able to keep up and that basically I'm going to fuck you like no one else could?" He says kinda nonchalant and a blush spreads across your face at how he could simplify your insecurities in a crude way. But you giggle
"Yeah I guess kinda. I mean everyone talks about how good it can feel like leg shaking and it's scary and what if you leave after or think I make a weird face" you say giggling a little throwing your hands up in defeat
"Well I want to do with you no pressure, obviously, but I can also guarantee that I will make you feel good and like hell I'm leaving your ass I already got a taste of you." He says with a smile leaning in between your legs nibbling at your left ear
"You promise" you say a little wobble to your voice. His hands are exploring your thighs gripping, squeezing and even pinching at your thigh
"Trust me baby I fuckin promise you're stuck with me now." You giggle a little and he leans in kissing your cheek
"Okay well I'm done over thinking. You gonna fuck me now?" At that his lips connect with yours, his hips slotting between your thighs as one of his hands slips behind your back grabbing one of the loose strings pulling it untying the top. Once untied he slips the straps down your arms throwing your top somewhere, pulling away licking his lips as he grabs at your boobs kissing your chest before he moves his way down to your right breast. Holding your right breast up he gently suckles on the nipple as his left hand tugs and pinches at your other one. Feeling as he nibbles and bites at your nipple tugging with his teeth causing your back to arch and grip at his hair feeling him still grounding down on you. His left hand travels down your stomach and slips into your bottoms as his head moves towards your left nipple giving it the same attention and hickies. He pulls away slipping his hand out your pants causing you to whine in an exaggerated manner to show your disappointment.
"Cmon don't be a brat I gotta get you out of these" he says referring to your bottoms and you blush as his hands grab at the hem of them looking at you to indicate to lifting your hips up and you do listening happily at the implications. God the man you're in love is about to finger you and it turns out he feels the same way I mean like what? That's crazy?
"Mhm damn look that pussy baby"he says with a wicked grin leaning down getting into the water until he's face to face with your pussy feeling as it throbs while it clenches and unclenches around nothing covering your face in shame because you just know he can see it happen and judging by his laugh you're right.
"Mhm look at this desperate pussy clenching around nothing you're so desperate aren't you baby?" He asks clearly rhetorically since he doesn't wait for you to respond before he slips his pointer finger inside curling it up searching for that spongy spot inside and he can tell instantly when he finds it based on how you whine and clench your thighs around his head that was barely a breath away from your pussy almost feeling his breath fan against your most sensitive area. He laughs at your sensitivity deciding to add his middle finger repeating the same action curling his fingers upwards. Feeling his breath get closer and closer until you feel his tongue lick at your clit. Your head throws back, grabbing a fist full of his hair from the intense stimulation finding ground yourself to something as you feel his fingers move curl non stop and his lips suck and lick at your clit. Feeling as not only your thighs clench around his head but the knot in your stomach as well. Back arching deeper as his fingers do the same inside you so desperate to make you cum
"I'm-im gonna cum Suki fuck I can feel it!" You exclaim as your back gives out falling back against the stone as you cum on his face thighs shaking and convulsing as his fingers milk you for everything your worth. You feel as his fingers gently pull out whining at the loss. Whining about the stones being cold Bakugo laughs at you calling you a baby and you watch as he licks his lips as he grabs your wrists pulling you back into the water as he sits down on the middle step pulling you down with him landing on lap realizing he must have ditched his swimming trunks at some point looking down in the water blushing god he's so big
"Like what you see baby? This is what's gonna go inside you baby." He says whispering in your ear as he grinds his cock against your bare pussy. Gasping as you wrap your arms around his neck tight clearly nervous at the anticipation
"If you want to stop we can" he says clearly being able to sense your nervousness. But you pull away quickly
"No! I mean no. *you say gasping trying to keep your cool* I don't want to stop I'm just a little nervous. So please just be gentle with me" you say seductively grinding down and he groans
"God damn you're gonna be the death of me you know that?" And you giggle at the comment. Kissing his cheek
"Alright princess take a deep breath" he says lovingly as you feel him lift your hips gasping as you feel his cock rub at your clit before poking at your entrance
"Told you to breathe damnit" he says as he pushes his hips up against yours. Your head throws back again to the feeling of him stretching you open, his hands grip at your waist pushing you down as well to meet his hips until he's completely bottomed out inside you. He can feel as your breath hitches and your heart quickens
"Calm down" he says as you feel his right hand rub circles into your lower back. There's a proud smile on his face as he realizes that almost instantly you try to regain control of your breathing. God she's such a good girl he thinks. Feeling as you begin to move your hips grinding down slowly.
"Yeah baby? You gonna use me and my cock to please yourself?" He asks as he buries his face into your breasts sucking hickies into your sternum as his own hips begin to move. Water sloshing with the movement of both of you.
"Mhm you feel that baby? Are your thighs shaking for me?" He asks clearly proud of himself you both keep a steady pace as he fucks into you and you meet his thrusts feeling the pressure build again as your thighs do shake from the pleasure but they're beginning to burn your so fucking to close to cumming again you just can't keep going fuck
"Please- please *gasping* I can't keep doing it my thighs burn help me" you whine burying your face into his neck as you suck your own bruises into the skin. He groans at the feeling but you feel as his hand grab at your ass cheeks pulling them apart slightly as he begins fucking up against you roughly hitting your g-spot perfectly as his other hand slips between your bodies finding your clit and begins to play with it.
"Mhm damn I can you clenching around me love. You gonna cum. Yea fucking cum do it for me. I'm so close too." He says hips moving more erratic so desperate to make you cum first. And his efforts begin to pay off as he feels you clench around him the same as you did against his fingers.
"I can feel you clenching. I know you're gonna cum just do it." He says and that's basically all it takes before you're cumming around him but that doesn't stop his own thrusting. You feel as he picks you up sitting you against the stone as he fucks into you harsher cumming inside you as he pulls out you whine and he laughs
"Why did you put me back on the stone? It's cold." You whine as he rolls his eye
"I didn't want to cum in the water. Don't want to ruin the hot spring do we? Still wanna be able to use it yeah?" He says kissing you and you blush cause he's right god how embarrassing. He picks you up and takes you to the bathroom sitting you on a stool that sits in front of the shower head.
"Alright love let's get cleaned up then we can smoke a little more and cuddle. Yeah?" And you blush at that cuz fuck yeah that sounds amazing. The fact that he fucked your brains out, is gonna bathes you and then smoke with you while watching TV god you really are in love.
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skyeslittlecorner · 3 months ago
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Hello! I hope you're having a wonderful Halloween!
Will it be all right if I request the WHB King's reactions to MC wearing One of those sexy Halloween costumes (any of your choice!)
You're writing is extremely well done And I really enjoy reading your work!
Have a nice day or night :3
Hello! And thank you! And yes, and thank you! I'm writing this answer early, because the time it's posted, I'm probably sitting with family and friends. Hope I can brighten up your three minutes with my silly ideas 
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
You came to Satan in a mummy costume, covering strategic places with bandages. He is delighted. For this joy he will kick anyone who looks at you, and he will want to take you here, now, in this corner, on this wall. The bandages you wore will grow to the status of relics. Satan will tie them around his wrists for difficult fights, and small pieces will be used to tie the most seriously wounded warriors, as a reward and support in healing.
Mammon won't be able to take his eyes off you when he sees you dressed as an Egyptian queen. Dripping with gold and silk, half-naked, combining inaccessibility with luxury... This will be Tartaros' favorite Halloween, because Mammon will take you on his knees and open up the throne room, accepting audiences for ordinary devils. Let all the devils see how beautiful and powerful their queen and his Master is, before he takes you to his chambers to ruin your expensive makeup.
Leviathan will be disgusted when he sees your exposed shoulders, tight corset and short skirt with a deep cut if you dress up as a pirate. What kind of idea is that? And that knife on your thigh. You want to fight with anything? With this? Foolish human. As a pirate, you should be ready to fight a kraken... and he can show you how dangerous and big the tentacles are.
You know those edible bracelets made of powdered candy? This is what the bikini Beelzebub will send you is made of. Only there will be less candy than on this bracelet. So that you can somehow go out on the town, you'll throw on his coat and tie it tightly around your waist. Improvisation is all you have left. You grab your markers, open the phone gallery and in the mirror, sloppily, scribble words on your body; Beel's tattoos. You'll steal Bael's glasses, and voila! Avisos, don't count on seeing your king, because when he sees you, he'll get obsessed. Do you want to be his so much that you're dressed up as him? Do you miss him so much? Come here. All you'll see for the next few hours is him and his clones; he'll point out every mistake in your tattoos and make you learn them by heart on his own body.
For Lucifer, you really tried your best with the makeup. You came in torn clothes, with fake wounds painted all over your body. The poor devil almost had a heart attack when he saw you. He rushed to check which of them were real, and when it turned out that none, you only heard a quiet whisper and felt a warm breath on your cheek. "Not very convincing." he muttered disapprovingly, as if he almost didn't panic at your sight. "I'll help you make them better." He licked his lips. Looking at his sharp fangs... your makeup can't compare to what they will leave.
For Belphegor the sexiest thing you can do is dress up as a mattress, but he guesses that wasn't the purpose of this event. You put on a sexy outfit, drew some card designs, and slid some cards and dices under your clothes and into ruffles. You decided to present the devil with a fait accompli. Took his favorite dice and threw it under your bra. "Oops." You spread your hands as if you hadn't done it on purpose. "I think you lost something?" Although initially unfazed, you quickly motivated him to search... even though your ornaments would soon be the last thing he was interested in.
Asmodeus was hard (as always) to figure out… so you decided to ignore him completely and just have fun. Let's test our king. Will he really think you're sexy in *everything*? Even if you dress up as an inflatable T-Rex? You were already excited when you found out that there was no such thing in hell. Sucks. Annoyed, you decided to tease your king. With Eligos and Paimon you spent a good few days, preparing a tight black dress, a curly wig, and specific makeup. To them, you looked simply sexy; but when you stood before Asmodeus, made up like Lust, his eyes widened. After all, he’s a man of culture who spends most of his time on Earth. “Sassy.” He smiled menacingly as he ran his finger over the tattoo between your collarbones. “Do you want to mock me or please me? Oh, well… Guess I have to ignite you.” Others better appreciate your creation before he sees you, because there will be absolutely nothing left of it.
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femd-archive · 6 months ago
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hiiii!! omg i love ur work sm it just scratches an itch i’ve had forever, i’ve always loved the dom reader + sub male character relationship and ur work is perfect! if it’s okay could i be 🌺 anon if you use the emoji system for that?
i have a request if ur taking them atm, i saw ur sub kenji oneshots and i was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a subby kenji x reader w a lot of miscommunication or general angst bc that’s my absolute fave!! w all the smut you want ofc!
and if you don’t want to take the request that’s totally cool! i really just wanted to tell you ur writing is amazing and ily!
— 🌺
hello! thanks for ur request :] and of course u can be 🌺 anon! i also love angst, more so the hurt/comfort trope, but i'm really bad at writting it (╥‸╥) so this was my attempt to write a hurt/comfort fic for the first time. hope u like it! i'll practice to make it better next time (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
p.s.: i didn't add much smut, mostly because my brain is fried :p
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NOT ALONE
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pairing: ultraman: rising — ken sato x fem!reader
word counting: 2.7k
content warning: arguing | kenji is so stressed :( | riding | unprotected sex | masturbation (female)
side note: english is not my first lenguage, so i apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes
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You notice, of course you notice.
You love and care for Kenji too much to not notice the dark circles under his eyes because of the lack of sleep; the way he's been more sensitive, even over the most little things; how he overworks himself in his baseball practices and won't stop unless Mina turns the stadium hologram off.
You knew how his relationship with his father was, but you have seen the way he declines his calls without a second thought now, knowing the guilt trip he had to overcome before he even hit the decline button on his watch before.
You notice, and of course you're worried about it. You didn't have to be his girlfriend to be worried. Hell, you would even be worried by just seeing him walk like a zombie in the streets as a stranger! And all that worry is what brings you in front of his mansion door at midnight.
He hasn't been answering your messages nor calls. You get it, he's a busy baseball player, but he always made at least a few minutes to reply to your messages, mostly saying sorry for not picking up your calls and that he'll call you back after he's done with an interview, telling you that he loves you.
After ringing his doorbell, you only had to wait for a few minutes before you could hear the hurried footsteps coming to the door. Opening it, there he was. With his adorable bed head, he looked up at you, tired eyes wide with surprise.
"Baby" his voice cracked, making him clear his throat before he talks again. "Hey baby, uhm...I didn't know that you were coming!" he laughs nervously.
"Well...I did text you" you shake your phone, and Kenji gulps.
"I..." he sighs, "I'm sorry baby. I just been...so busy later" he groans, rubbing a hand over his face with fatigue.
"I understand, Kenji. May I come in? I just wanna talk with you. It's been a while"
Kenji looks at you through his sleepy eyes, and even in that state, you were able to see the way his eyes softened at the sight of you. It really has been a while. He reaches a hand to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
"Of course" he mumbles, low but loud enough for you to hear him. He moves his hand from your face to your hand, taking it and pulling you softly inside, closing the door behind him.
You guys walk over the kitchen. Kenji lets go of your hand to walk over the fridge. "Do you want anything?" he asks, referring to the fridge's content.
[Name] sucks in a breath, gathering courage to speak. "Yeah, I'd like for us to talk" she finally said, noticing how Kenji's shoulder tense as he close the door's fridge, staying there with a can of soda in his head, not facing her. "For you to talk to me, Kenji. I believe you when you say you're busy with baseball, I really do! But I thrust my gut to know that there's something else going on"
She walks closer to him, staring at his broad back. How she wishes she could just hug him from behind and erase all his problems. But the world is more complicated than that, and she knows it.
"You can't always rely on your gut to make conclusions" opening the can soda, Kenji spit those words with a gruff tone, making [Name] surprised over his mood change.
Of course she wasn't off limits of seeing him mad only because she was his girlfriend, but she didn't expect for him to talk to her like that over a simple request.
"Then talk to me, Kenji. I don't wanna be like this either" she starts talking, following Kenji as he walks away while drinking from the can. "You don't have to tell me everything, but at least admit that you're having a hard time so I can at least hold you"
Kenji lets out a chuckle, incredulous. "Hard time? Baby, I'm Ken Sato! I don't have hard times, I only have good times" he spread his arms beside him, trying to appear as flawless as ever, obtaining a deadpan face from you.
"Kenji, you look like shit" you simply say. "You can barely walk with your eyes open. I don't know about anyone else, but I can see the lack of sleep in your eyes, I can see how your shoulder has been bothering you more each day that passes. I know that you always work hard to be on a good shape for the games, but you go to an extent that is not healthy"
"What? Did you became a physician now?" he asks after finishing rubbing his eyes, a mocking tone on his words.
"What? No" you needed to take a breath to not break. "I'm just concerned about your well being"
"I am okay" he affirms, eyebrows furrowed. "You're the that's being like 'Ohh Kenji ~ you're so tired. You should rest up'" with a high pitched tone, he mimicks you in a mocking way while pouting exaggeratedly.
You feel your heart beating fast on your chest, your cheeks hot with embarrassement. Why was he behaving like that? You just want to help. Were you being too overboard? You give him his space, you have gave it to him for weeks. And that you finally thought it was a good time to adress his lack of selfcare and how sad he looks, he talks to you like this...
"I know that you're having a hard time, Kenji. Everyone that cares about you can notice that. I just...I just want to help in what I can" you say with a weak tone now. You had shrunk in your spot, suddenly feeling sorry for even going to his house in the first place.
"Well guess what? You can't help me"
In a desperate attempt to push you away —because if you kept looking at him with those pretty eyes, he'll spill everything— he's mean to you. Not the smartest choice to treat your lover, but that's the only response that he could muster at the moment.
He was flustered at the confrontation. Of course you will notice about his poor state. You love him and care too much for him to not notice that he's going insane little by little, but he doesn't want to share that burden with you. In his mind, he just can't.
You look up at him, big sad eyes that just make him want to hug you until you both forget this stupid moment.
Holding back your tears, the only thing you could do was sigh. Your heart feels heavy on your chest, wunded by his words and harsh tone. You're not the savior of the word, you're not Ultraman either, you just wanted to help your boyfriend...
"Yeah, I already knew that" you mumble. Taking a deep breath, you look up at him with a weak smile. "Alright, you might not want to talk right now, but if you need anything...I'm always gonna be there" you remind him, giving him one last look before starting to walk off to the front door.
Kenji looks at you go. You seemed little with the way your shoulders shrunk and you walked slowly, like an injured animal. His heart also feels heavy on his chest, a pang of guilt striking over all his body as his eyes are already watering with tears.
He hated that his stupid pride wouldn't let him as for help, for it to hurt you when the only thing you wanted to do was help him in whatever way you could.
He knew you weren't weak, he knew that you could be able to handle all the secrets that he's harboring on his chest, but he doesn't want to share the burden, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you only because you know he's Ultraman.
What would he do if he lost you? He's sure that he was gonna lose his mind. Just the same way he'll lose his mind if he let you walk away through that door.
"Mina, lock the door" he commanded, and in a split of a second, the computer did so.
You didn't even try to open it after you've heard his command. Confused, you look back at Kenji, who's already walking towards you like a kicked puppy.
"Forgot to say something?" you ask, bitterness on your tone that made Kenji cringe.
He sighs, a guilty expression on his face. "Yes...I'm sorry baby" he begins. "I...I promise that I want to tell you, I want to tell you everything! But— it's...it's too dangerous"
And finally, after months of bottling all this emotions, Kenji finally breaks into loud sobs, fat tears running down his cheeks. Startled, [Name] didn't have any other reflections than hug him, even though she was still mad at his earlier attitude.
"Hey, hey" she whispered, running a hand up and down his back. "It's okay, it's okay"
Kenji wraps his arms around her shoulders, hiding his face on her neck. "I don't—" he chokes, "I don't want anything to happen to you" he cries, almost incomprehensible.
"Nothing is gonna happen to me, baby" she reassures, feeling his tears run down her neck and wetting her shirt, but she doesn't care about it. Kenji finally is being open with her, and that's all that matter.
Kenji sniffs a few times before talking with a weak voice. "Promise?" he asks.
She squeezes him a little bit more in her arms. "I promise"
Still sniffing, Kenji slowly pulls away from the hug, looking at his girlfriend with his big eyes full of tears, a cute pout in his lips. [Name] reaches her hands to run her thumbs under his eyes, drying his tears away. He nuzzles into her, a shaky breath exhaling out of him as he calms down.
"There you go" she whispers softly, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs now. "Come on, let's sit on the couch. I'll get you some water"
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After a lot of reassurance that nothing was gonna happen and lots of cuddles, Kenji had finally told her everything. That his dad was Ultraman; that he took his legacy and he now serves as the new Ultraman to the city of Tokyo, and how he knows he's not doing a good job; that he has a 6 feet tall baby Kaiju that think he's her mother trapped in a container, and he clearly don't know how to take care of her; how much he misses his mother everyday...
[Name] listened to him attentively, her heart swelling at how much pain Kenji had to endure on his own and feeling guilty about not noticing sooner. Why she couldn't have been there for him? Right now, everything seemed so obvious, all of it happen in front of her, and she couldn't do nothing.
Her caresses on the back of his hand never stopped for even one second, even caressing his back when he needed to make a pause to cry.
Now they were cuddled up in the couch under a blanket. After spilling everthing out, Kenji just let himself fall into her arms and bask into her warmth.
"Thank you for telling me, Kenji. I really didn't wanna pressure you into talking, but you looked so sick...I was just so worried" she blinked back the tears, she needed to be strong for him now. "And yeah, it's a lot to take in. Like damn...I'm dating Ultraman" her comment makes Kenji giggle, his body trembling with laughter in her arms, "but it's nothing that we can't overcome, together" she remarks the last word. "And it's not something that it's gonna make me love you any less"
Kenji pulls away from her arms to make eye contact, his puffy eyes still able to show how soft they become when he looks at her. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out for you to talk. I just— I don't know how to ask for help" he admits, feeling a weight that he didn't know he had on his chest being gone.
"Well, admiting that is a big first step, so I'm really proud of you for that" she kisses his forehead, making him smile. "And we can work on that. We can search for professional service, that wpuld help out a lot. And, I'm always gonna be there for you" she reminds him, running her fingers through his hair.
She cups his cheeks, making him look at her in the eyes. "You're not a burden, Kenji. Your problems are valid and I'm always gonna be up to hearing them and help you in what I can and I can't do. We're in this together, alright? You're not alone anymore"
[Name] saw the way that Kenji's eyes swell with this again, a small pout on his lips as he gulps softly. He nods, slowly, letting her words sink in. He was not alone...he had her. It was not something that it would easily stick in his mind, but he'll try to remind himelf everyday. He was not alone anymore.
She leaned in, going for a kiss, and Kanji meet her midway, kissing her with yearn after all those weeks that they couldn't be together, that they couldn't touch each other. He could've barely see her with his busy schedule, and that also added to all his stress, all this mess. All he needed was to be in her arms.
Kenji takes one of [Name]'s hands that cupped his cheek and slide it down his shirt at the same time he traced her bottom lip with his tongue.
[Name] pulls away from the kiss, almost smiling when she hears Kenji whine and chase after her lips, desperate. "Hey, you really wanna do this? You're still tired, Kenji" she reproached.
"Please baby" he whines, looking at her eyes and then her lips, intensely. "I need you"
Kenji straddles his girlfriend's lap completely, letting her feel his hard cock against her stomach. [Name] gasps softly, looking up at Kenji's cute needy face as he starts rocking his hips softly.
She bits down her bottom lip before pulling him into another kiss where he moans.
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They didn't even realize when did Mina lowered the lights. How could they? When they were so engrossed in each other's touch. The room was filled with the couple's moans and their skin hitting against each other.
Kenji was laying down on the couch, [Name] on top of him, as they hugged each other thightly while she moved her hips up and down, Kenji's dick hitting the right spot with every thrust.
Kenji's grip on [Name]'s waist just get tighter as he hide his moans in her neck. "Baby...baby" he calls for her, feeling his orgasm coming.
"I know baby, I know" she kisses his shoulder. "Go ahead, you can cum" she reassures, speeding the pace of her thrusts.
Kenji meets his girlfriend's hips midway, bucking his own as he hits the last thrusts before sliding out of her, ropes of cum shooting out of his tip, dirtying [Name]'s back, his thighs and the expensive couch under them. But who cared? He could buy another one.
[Name] brings her hand to her clit, making circle motions on it with her fingers as she grins on Kenji's abs. He manages to look up at her with cloudy eyes, brain still fuzzy with the euphoria of his recent climax. Still, his hands come up to caress her thighs, encouraging her to keep using him to get off.
"S' pretty" he slurs, running his thumbs on her skin.
"Fuck...Kenji" with his name on her lips, she ends up cumming with a few more motions of her fingers before collapsing on top of her boyfriend's chest.
They stayed there, in each other's embrace as they calmed down. Kenji's finger run softly down [Name]'s arm, his free arm wrapped around her waist.
"I'm sorry I didn't help you get off" he whispers suddenly, making [Name] chuckle.
"It's okay. To be fair, you're about to pass out now" she props her chin on his chest, looking at him with dreamy eyes. Kenji chuckles as well, not denying it. "Come on, let's take a bath and then you can finally have some good night sleep" patting his chest softly, she starts getting up and helps him as well.
"Are you gonna introduce me to the baby Kaiju tomorrow?" she asks as they walk together to the bathroom.
"Oh yeah, and she's gonna love ~ you. Just like I do ~" he litters her cheek with kisses, making her giggle.
"Come on, Romeo. Let's take a bath"
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[taglist] @vinegarjello
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octopus-punching-union · 7 months ago
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Tokyo Debunker characters + MC who talks to cats
(specifically, praising the campus cats for being cute hard workers)
Jin: Obviously he's not giving you enough work if you have time to waste with the cats. (But secretly, he's cranky that you're too nervous to be like that with him. He doesn't get much genuine praise and has been telling himself that he doesn't need it... but hearing you so freely praising the cats makes him feel things that aren't entirely pleasant.)
Tohma: "They have jobs, you know." If you're so bored that you're distracting others from their work, he has plenty for you to do. (He actually finds it really amusing.)
Luca: "You're right, they really do work hard." He's not the type to fawn over animals, but he doesn't find it at all unusual when you do. He very earnestly thanks them for all their hard work.
Kaito: Sits down and joins you petting and praising the cats. It's a rare moment in which he's not feeling self-conscious or worrying about impressing you, until you accidentally bump hands and he starts freaking out.
Alan: He backs off as soon as he notices what's going on — he doesn't want to ruin the moment. Later, he makes sure to tell you that you're doing a good job (but without context, it feels like it's coming out of nowhere).
Leo: "It's just a cat. You know it doesn't understand what you're saying, right?" He starts to say something rude in a sugary-sweet tone. "Don't listen to him," you say, covering the cat's ears so that it won't hear. (The cat, disgruntled by all the movement, hops out of your lap and trots away.)
Sho: "You're so weird, senpai," he says, not even trying to hide his smirk, but you can tell he's not serious. He pretends to be reluctant to join you, but he really just wants to hear you ask for him again.
Haru: He stops briefly to say hi, but doesn't have much time to spare. He'll take care of some of your tasks, though, so that you can have a peaceful moment without worrying about anything. (If you want him to take a break with you, you'll have to sit on him or something.)
Towa: A sudden burst of rain scares the cat away. Towa appears moments later with flowers for you, and the weather has turned sunny and warm — perfect to dry out your damp clothes. He lies down in the grass next to you as you relax.
Ren: "Gross. You don't know where that's been." He grumbles about how people lose their minds over cats just because they're cute (he definitely doesn't want to hear you say that he's cute) and makes you wash your hands after the cat leaves.
Taiga: He either wants to eat it or wants to chase it out of his room with gunfire — you have to distract him while the cat makes a hasty escape. He pins you to the wall, musing about how he'll punish you... He runs a finger down your cheek just to feel you tremble. You're his favorite toy.
Romeo: He hasn't given the cats a second thought until this exact moment. They do their jobs competently and he can't exploit them, so what else is there to care about? He has never in his life praised someone for doing a good job, and he thinks you're excessively soft for doing so... but that's not the real reason it bothers him. You've always refused to call him Fico or stroke his ego, yet you're heaping praise on a cat? Ludicrous.
Ritsu: Initially not interested, as cats aren't subject to labor laws and standards. When you wonder out loud if Sinostra could get in trouble for animal abuse, he immediately goes off to investigate.
Subaru: He enjoys the moment with a smile. You're sweet and encouraging and way cuter than any cat, and he counts himself lucky that he gets to spend time with you.
Haku: He ruffles your hair and, mimicking your tone, says that you're cute and hardworking and doing a great job. "Don't make fun of me," you protest, pouting. "I'm not," he replies.
Zenji: Joins you, far more eloquently. After the cat leaves, it's your turn to be praised! He makes sure that you know exactly how important and admired you are.
Rui: Feels really silly for being so envious of a cat. (He's cute, too! He works hard and has great hair, and he wants to cuddle up to you while you praise him and run your fingers through his hair...) But, as long as he's cursed, he can't have what he wants. It's better to keep things lighthearted so that he can see you smile. (Maybe someday, when both of your curses are broken...)
Lyca: Growls. The cat is not intimidated; it escaped Sinostra unscathed, after all. Lyca's not sure what to make of it, but he settles next to you, wary. If it makes a move, he'll be ready.
Yuri: He's so busy and deals with so much weird stuff that it doesn't even register. If he needs you for something, he'll just grab you regardless of what you're doing. You protest as the cat tumbles out of your lap, but he's already three steps ahead.
Jiro: Observes carefully, as he would with any experiment. Are Darkwick's cats smarter than normal cats? You're making it sound like they are, but he doesn't have any other memories of cats as a comparison. Later, he watches some cat videos. For science.
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thegnomelord · 1 year ago
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I REALLY LOVE THE STRAIGHTFOWARD WEREWOLVES SOAP. OMG. Its just really funny in my head, imagine the way soap would act so shameless around the reader, uncaring about the stare he got because thats just how they are! The werewolves race with their no-shit and unfiltered attitude, and oh if they take interest in you, prepare your heart especially if you has a weak one; because surely they'll cling their every waking moment with you, sniffing every spots of you that they can reach. Absurd yet endearing flirtiratios compliments would hurled at you, catching you off guard cause they just come out of nowhere. Baring their fangs at potential rivals, worst case scenario if its their own race, because they can and will get violent, best calmed the werewolves down before anything awful happened. Just a thing between werewolves to prove which one is the stronger and more qualified, whose more worthy of your love, in their point of view.
If you have the time can you make a short fic, it would be the highlight of my life for weeks!!
Okay yes but also because I love needy clingy pathetic Soap too much lol
CW: NSFW, gn reader, grinding, somnophillia, quick and rough.
You've noticed that Soap has started to act. . . strange.
He's started trying to feed you all types of stuff, mostly meat, seeking you out at all times of the day. You'll see him go out to the woods and come back with some large animal, and an hour later he'll be coming to you with a plate of food and a 'Kiss the cook' apron on (every time you have to bite back from drawing attention to the fact the arrows point down to his dick). "Hey, need that wonderful mouth of yer's to try this out." He says, watching with rapt attention as you try his food, taking every critique with a wagging tail.
And if you like his food, oh, there's a giant grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, ye like that?" He comes closer, the plate in your hands forcing distance between you two. "Reckon this cook should get a reward." He's already stepping around to press his chest flush with your back before he can finish his sentence, and you don't have the heart to stop him because the food is mouth watering and he's just scenting you, even if the occasional flick of his tongue against your nape makes you shiver. (You, again, try not to draw attention to a hard bulge grinding into your ass)
That's the other thing. He's gotten really clingy.
He's always been clingy with all the team members, nuzzling his cheek against Gaz, whining like a kicked puppy when pushes him away with a hand on his face, tail wagging as he scents Price. Usually he's satisfied after he's done scenting the lads in your team, happy to continue with his business.
But with you. . .
You can't even sit on the couch for five seconds before his burly body is snuggling up to you, taking his seat in your lap like he owns it, like he's a lap dog. Doesn't even excuse himself before his hands are groping your biceps as he nuzzles your neck. "Aye, yer so hoht," He purrs, full body rubbing against you. "Could use ye fer a blanket on cold nights." You don't know how to feel about that, his words causing your mind to stutter long enough for him to replace the scents lingering on you with his own.
And when someone enters to find you like this, he doesn't even throw them a glance, gripping onto you like a koala and all you can do is mouth a 'help me'. Doesn't work though, as the second he senses someone is getting near he's growling like a monster truck's engine, glaring at the poor sod with his face still stuck in your neck.
Or, if you're busy with something, he'll saddle up to you, ears perked up. "Oi, bonnie, hold som'ting fer me." He'll whine, tugging on your arm until you sigh.
"Fine, just give it here." You growl, holding out your arm, still concentrated on what you're doing.
Next thing you know you're cupping his jaw, his head resting on your hand. "Anyone ever tell ye, yer got perfect hands te grope with?" Johnny grins at you, that one snaggletooth fang pinching his lip, using your confusion to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against your palm, making sure you smell like him.
You shake out of your stupor and pull your hand back, resisting giving in when he gives you such a heartbroken whine. "No, Johnny." You growl and shoo him away, but he still manages to brush his tail against your leg.
You make the mistake to fall asleep on the communal couch after a grueling day of training recruits. When Johnny finds you, his nose immediately trying to get a whiff of your scent, he growls when he can barely get traces of it beneath the smell of dirt and sweat and way too many people when the only scent you should have on you is his. His inner wolf growls along with him, his ears pricking up straight, staring at your sleeping form.
He's more than happy to rectify your mistake.
He lays on top of you, purring happily to himself when you don't even shift. "Good mate," He hums to himself, wrapping around you like a blanket, face buried in your neck once again. His hands slide beneath your shirt, making him pant into your skin from the sensation of your muscles beneath his hands. He moves his body slowly, seeking to have as much skin contact as he can, mouth watering and angel bells ringing in his skull at how he can taste his scent replacing everyone else's on your skin.
He doesn't notice when he starts to nibble on your neck, but it's the sensible next move, what better way to keep competition away than let everyone know you're taken? Johnny's marks bloom across your throat as he sucks hickeys into your skin, his wolf and himself standing on common ground to make sure you're covered in his marks.
He pulls back his head to look at his work and groans, cock immediately hardening in his pants from you covered in his marks. His hips gain a life of their own, thighs gripping your own as he grinds down, already half drunk on your scent.
You wake up to find his hot breath fanning over your face, the sensation of something hard grinding against your leg dissipating any residual drowsiness. "Johnny, what the fuck?" You ask, voice rough from sleep, only now registering his weight on top of you.
"'m sorry bonnie," Johnny whines, burying his face into your neck to muffle his whining. "Just- hah- needed ye."
You grumble, but you can't hide the way heat burns through your veins at the sight of him, his face flushed, claws gripping you like you'll disappear, desperately humping against your leg.
"I can see that." You say, tensing your thigh to give aid him in his grinding, your eyes growing wide at the loud moan that escapes him, like he's a whore on camera.
"Oh, shite, thank ye, thank ye, thank ye-" He whines, his humping growing faster, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the way you hadn't pushed him away, that you're accepting his advances, muttering 'mate' under his breath as he chases after his orgasm.
He cums before either one of you knows it, a dark stain forming in his pants as he bites down and groans into your neck. You grunt, but Soap's quick to release your skin and lap at the aching spots with his tongue, soothing the pain.
"'m sorry bonnie." He mumbles, cock still hard in his pants, his wolfish eyes settling on you. Shame nibbles on his stomach for cumming so fast when he can't smell a lot of arousal on you, his wolf growling at him to show you how good he can be.
You jump when his hand slides down to grip your crotch roughly, his pupils dilating at the way a small moan slips past your lips. "Lemme make it up fer ye yeah?"
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steddiewithachance · 1 year ago
Text
Vampire Pancakes
A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire
🥞🫐
No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.
Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.
Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.
Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.
"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"
Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.
"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."
So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.
Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.
Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.
Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.
He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.
🥞🫐
It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.
"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.
"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.
"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.
Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.
He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.
"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.
"Not even a little."
Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.
"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.
"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"
"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.
"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.
"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."
Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.
"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.
"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
🥞🫐
In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.
The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.
Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.
He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.
"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.
"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.
"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.
Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.
"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.
"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.
"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.
Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."
And it feels like things are gonna be okay.
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