#laptop under 200

[katara-stan-club]

so grateful the storage I ordered for my laptop is arriving today cause my laptop is struggling to function due to storage issues 😩

[coolhomeutensils1]

Affordable Gaming Laptops under $200 in 2024

In the ever-evolving gaming landscape, having a dependable and affordable laptop is essential for enthusiasts who want to enjoy their favorite games without breaking the bank. If you're on the lookout for the best gaming laptops under $200 in 2024, you're in luck. This article will explore five wallet-friendly options that deliver decent performance without putting a strain on your finances.

1. Acer Aspire 5

At the forefront of our list is the Acer Aspire 5, a laptop that strikes a balance between cost and performance. Priced under $200, this machine boasts an AMD Ryzen 3 processor and Radeon graphics, making it capable of handling various games. The 15.6-inch display offers vibrant colors, and the laptop's sleek design adds a touch of style. While it may not run the latest AAA titles on ultra settings, the Acer Aspire 5 is a solid choice for casual gamers on a budget.

2. HP Stream 14

For those seeking a lightweight and portable gaming laptop, the HP Stream 14 is a compelling option. With its 14-inch display and Intel Celeron processor, this laptop provides a decent gaming experience for its price. While it may struggle with resource-intensive games, it excels in handling indie titles and older games. The compact design and long battery life make it an excellent choice for gaming on the go.

3. Lenovo Ideapad 3

Lenovo's Ideapad 3 is another contender in the sub-$200 gaming laptop category. Equipped with an AMD Athlon Silver processor and Radeon graphics, this laptop offers respectable gaming performance. The 15.6-inch HD display provides a decent viewing experience, and the laptop's build quality is robust for its price. It's a reliable option for gamers who prioritize budget without compromising too much on performance.

4. ASUS VivoBook L203MA

ASUS enters the arena with the VivoBook L203MA, a compact and cost-effective gaming laptop. Powered by an Intel Celeron processor and Intel UHD Graphics, this laptop is suitable for light gaming tasks. The 11.6-inch HD display is small but offers good color reproduction. The VivoBook L203MA's compact size and lightweight design make it an ideal choice for gamers who prioritize portability and casual gaming over high-end performance.

5. Dell Inspiron 11 3000

Last but not least, the Dell Inspiron 11 3000 is a budget-friendly gaming laptop that doesn't compromise on build quality. With an AMD A9 processor and Radeon R5 Graphics, it delivers decent performance for its price. The 11.6-inch HD display is compact but provides a clear and vibrant viewing experience. The laptop's durable construction and reliable performance make it a solid choice for budget-conscious gamers.

Conclusion

In conclusion, finding a gaming laptop under $200 that meets your gaming needs requires careful consideration of specifications and performance. The Acer Aspire 5, HP Stream 14, Lenovo Ideapad 3, ASUS VivoBook L203MA, and Dell Inspiron 11 3000 are all viable options for budget-conscious gamers in 2024. While these laptops may not compete with high-end gaming machines, they offer a decent gaming experience for casual gamers who prioritize affordability. When on a tight budget, these laptops prove that you don't need to spend a fortune to enjoy gaming on the go.

[homocorn]

"only rich people own actual computers" is definitely one of the weirder takes ive seen lately

[mxlaptop]

Getting the Most Bang for Your Buck: Refurbished Laptops Under $200

In today's digital age, a laptop is a near-essential tool for work, education, entertainment, and communication. However, the high cost of brand-new laptops can be a significant barrier for many individuals, especially students and budget-conscious consumers. The good news is that there's an excellent alternative to buying new: refurbished laptops. In this article, we'll explore the world of refurbished laptops under $200 and how they can provide exceptional value without breaking the bank.

What Is a Refurbished Laptop?

A refurbished laptop is a pre-owned computer that has been returned to the manufacturer or a certified refurbisher for various reasons, such as a minor defect or a customer return within a specified period. These laptops undergo thorough testing, repairs, and quality checks to ensure they meet or exceed the manufacturer's original specifications. Once restored to like-new condition, they are certified and sold as refurbished.

Why Choose a Refurbished Laptop?

Affordability: The most significant advantage of refurbished laptops is their price. By opting for a refurbished model, you can get a high-quality laptop at a fraction of the cost of a new one. This is particularly appealing for those on a tight budget.

Quality Assurance: Reputable refurbishers rigorously test and refurbish laptops to ensure they function correctly. You'll often find that refurbished laptops come with warranties, providing peace of mind regarding their reliability.

Environmental Benefits: Choosing a refurbished laptop is an eco-friendly choice. Extending the life of electronics through refurbishment reduces electronic waste and conserves resources.

What to Look for in a Refurbished Laptop Under $200:

Brand and Model: Look for well-known brands and models that have a reputation for reliability. Brands like Dell, HP, Lenovo, and Acer often have excellent refurbished options.

Specifications: Pay attention to the laptop's specifications. Ensure it meets your specific needs, whether it's for basic tasks like web browsing and document editing or more demanding activities like gaming or video editing.

Operating System: Check which operating system is installed. Windows laptops tend to be more common, but you might find refurbished Chromebooks or MacBook Airs within this price range.

Condition: Be aware of the laptop's condition. While refurbished laptops are generally in good shape, there may be minor cosmetic imperfections. These won't affect functionality but are worth noting.

Warranty: Many reputable refurbishers offer warranties on their products. Ensure the laptop you choose comes with a warranty, even if it's a limited one.

Where to Find Refurbished Laptops Under $200:

Manufacturer Websites: Brands like Dell and Lenovo often have dedicated sections on their websites for refurbished products.

Online Retailers: Websites like Amazon, Newegg, and eBay offer a wide range of refurbished laptops from various sellers.

Certified Refurbishers: Look for certified refurbishers or authorized dealers who specialize in refurbishing electronics. They typically offer higher quality and better warranties.

Local Electronics Stores: Some brick-and-mortar electronics stores may carry refurbished laptops. It's a good idea to call ahead and inquire about their stock.

Tips for a Successful Purchase:

Read Reviews: Before making a purchase, read reviews and research the specific model you're interested in. This can help you gauge its performance and any potential issues.

Check the Return Policy: Ensure the seller offers a return policy in case you encounter any unexpected problems with the laptop.

Verify the Warranty: Double-check the warranty terms and understand what is covered. Some warranties may only cover specific components.

In Conclusion:

Refurbished laptops under $200 can be a fantastic option for individuals and families looking to save money without compromising on quality. With proper research, a bit of patience, and attention to detail, you can find a reliable laptop that suits your needs while staying well within your budget. So, don't overlook the refurbished market—it's a treasure trove of affordable and functional computing solutions.

[mun-urufu]

silly note list because I need to fix things

no rules spamming is allowed :3 (I really wanna get these things done but need someone from the outside to nudge me, the note count is high because some things need to be later or further apart)

5 notes and I’ll drink water rn

10 notes and I’ll brush my teeth today

20 notes and I’ll have a proper full breakfast tommorow and for a week afterwards

30 notes and I’ll try to convince my parents to buy me the electronics needed to finish my tv head

40 notes and I’ll post a picture of the tv head

50 notes and I’ll post a picture of me in the tv head and a kimono I made once it’s finished

60 notes and I’ll put my laptop into a repair shop to fix it bluescreening every 10 minutes when I’m working on something more requiring on its RAM

70 notes and I’ll actually draft a project for a silly metroidvania I started working on

turned into a rouge like but who cares

80 notes and I’ll post dev logs of said silly metroidvania

90 notes I’ll get my shot together and start a twitch channel

changed into a YouTube channel

100 notes ill try and draft up a stream plan once I know all my school and extra curricular stuff

125 notes and I’ll stream my development process

150 notes and I’ll do some more extra streams and prepare an introductory video

streams not gonna happen for now but videos are being made

175 notes and I’ll start a YouTube channel where I’ll reuse some of the VODs I’ll eventually get and make some actual videos

200 notes and ill talk to my therapist about thinking I have adhd (I barely avoided failing last year)

250 notes and I’ll try to go to sleep early for a week straight

300 notes and I’ll try to fix my sleep schedule before school starts

400 notes and I’ll organize my room before school starts

500 notes and I’ll release a demo of said metroidvania

600 notes and I’ll release it on Itch.io

1000 notes and I’ll try to come out to my parents as trans (again)

didn’t go well at all

1200 notes I’ll try to make some money with my skills

1500 I’ll make a 2d game adding only y’all’s ideas

I might add some more later goals later (some of the numbers are prone to adjustment but I’ll try to avoid that, and do it only for the yet to be completed ones)

tags under the cut to get this started

@hadoom @uwathebestgirl @im-a-sentient-magic-carpet @thecrazyalchemist

I’m making a mistake with this one

@tanihanya

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Domestic Chaos | Draco Malfoy ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: I guess mention of sexual activity and condoms

Summary: Fluff, Comedy | Draco navigates through muggle life with the love of his life.

Word count: 8966

author's note: I am so sorry that this request took so long. But work has been hell before the holidays. Now that I have some time off I managed to finish it. I hope you like it! @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy

The first week of living together with Draco Malfoy had been… an adjustment, to say the least.

You smiled to yourself as you wandered down the stairs of your new house, recalling the mix of chaos and charm that came in the start of sharing a home with Draco. Moving in together had been a big step, one you hadn’t expected to take so soon. But after months of navigating your relationship between your cozy Muggle world and his pristine magical one following your graduation from Hogwarts, it only made sense to create a space that was truly suited for the both of you.

Granted, the transition had been smoother for you than it had been for him.

Draco, for all his poise and pure-blood grace, had little to no experience with Muggle life. Your enchanted house—a quirky blend of his velvet armchairs and your mismatched cozy furniture—reflected that perfectly. It was a home where magical portraits coexisted with photo frames from your favorite vacations, where your television and laptop shared a shelf with his collection of ancient spell books.

It was perfect. Except for the moments where Draco had done his best to interact with Muggle appliances.

The faint sound of muffled clattering pulled you towards your kitchen, curiosity outweighing your desire to get yourself a hot mug of coffee. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you padded down the hall toward the kitchen. As you stepped through the doorway, you froze, your grogginess instantly replaced by disbelief at the sight before you.

The dishwasher, a seemingly harmless Muggle machine, stood wide open. Inside, dishes were arranged in what could only be described as abstract art. Draco stood in front of it with his wand drawn, muttering incantations under his breath. A suspiciously green, bubbling potion had been poured into the detergent slot, and—Merlin help him—a set of silver goblets that were very much not dishwasher-safe glinted proudly from the bottom rack.

“Draco.” you said carefully, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what are you doing?”

He didn’t flinch, though his wand froze mid-air. “Using this infernal contraption you insisted on bringing into our home.” he replied, his tone clipped.

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Our home. The words still gave you butterflies.

“This ‘infernal contraption’ is a dishwasher,” you corrected, stepping closer. “It cleans dishes. Without magic. That’s sort of the point.”

Draco huffed, a faint pink tinting his pale cheeks. “Well, it’s doing a poor job of it so far.”

“Probably because you’re trying to curse it into submission.” You peered into the dishwasher, your eyes widening. “Wait. Is that—oh my God, Draco, is that the antique goblet from your mother’s dining set?!”

He glanced at the goblet, then back at you, feigning innocence. “What? It needed cleaning.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s over 200 years old! You can��t just throw it in a dishwasher!”

“Well, I certainly can’t hand wash it,” he said indignantly, crossing his arms. “Do you know how much trouble the preservation charms require? It’s exhausting.”

“Then maybe don’t drink wine out of a priceless artifact?”

“Then maybe don’t serve wine in cheap glass cups,” he shot back, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “It ruins the wine taste…”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine. Touché. But seriously, what is this… potion?” You gestured to the green, bubbling mess in the detergent slot.

“It’s a universal cleaning tonic,” he said proudly. “Far superior to whatever chemical nonsense Muggles use.”

“It’s not even liquid! It’s oozing! You can’t put that in a dishwasher!”

Draco frowned, glancing back at the machine as if it had betrayed him. “So what’s the proper way, then?”

You sighed, grabbing the small box of dishwasher tablets from the counter. “Watch and learn, Pure-blood.”

With a sigh you carefully removed the bubbling mess he had poured into the detergent slot. Draco watched with a mix of curiosity and mild indignation as you wiped it clean with a paper towel.

“This,” you said, holding up one of the tablets from the box, “is what you’re supposed to use.”

Draco tilted his head, eyeing the tablet skeptically. “That tiny thing? How could that possibly clean anything?”

“It’s designed for this, Draco. It dissolves in the water and works its magic—well, not literally, but you get the idea.”

You slid the tablet into the designated compartment and snapped the dishwasher closed, pressing the buttons to set the correct cycle. “And this,” you added, pointing to the buttons, “is how you actually start it. No wand required.”

Draco’s expression was unreadable as the machine hummed to life, its rhythmic sounds filling the kitchen. After a moment, he muttered, “It still seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“Complicated? You were about to duel the dishwasher,” you teased, crossing your arms.

Draco smirked, his signature smugness returning. “And I would’ve won.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you leaned against the counter. “You’re hopeless.”

Before you could say more, you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his breath tickled your neck.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “but I’m learning, aren’t I?”

You snorted, tilting your head slightly as you felt his lips brush against the curve of your neck in a featherlight kiss. “Barely,” you teased, though your tone lacked the bite to make it convincing.

Draco chuckled, the vibration of it humming against your back. His kisses trailed lazily along the side of your neck, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your waist. Just as you began to melt into his warmth, a sharp, electronic beep shattered the moment.

Draco froze, his lips pausing mid-kiss. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” he asked, his voice tense and laced with suspicion.

You laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “That’s just the washing machine.” you explained, finding his baffled expression entirely too adorable. “It beeps when it’s done with a cycle.”

Draco frowned, glancing over at the machine as if it were an intruder. “Why does it need to announce its accomplishments? It’s not as though I announce every time I complete a task.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure about that? Because I distinctly remember you declaring victory the last time you hung up a picture frame.”

Draco scowled, though the faint pink creeping back into his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “That frame was enchanted to repel nails. It was a triumph,” he muttered defensively.

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Draco,” you said, still grinning, “the Muggle world is going to kill you at this rate.”

He grumbled, tightening his hold around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. “Life is unnecessarily complicated without magic,” he muttered, his tone dripping with indignation. “Why would anyone willingly choose this… process over a simple charm?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe because some of us didn’t grow up with the luxury of a wand to fix all our problems?”

Draco pulled back slightly to look at you, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re saying you willingly endured this madness? What kind of resilience do Muggles possess that I’ve clearly been deprived of?”

“Patience!”

Draco scoffed, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Patience is for people with time to waste,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of his arms and heading toward the counter. “Come on, your Highness,” you said over your shoulder, pulling open the breadbox. “Let’s see if you’re capable of making toast without burning it.”

Draco followed you with a mock-offended expression. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of operating a toaster,” he declared, though his hesitation as he glanced at the machine suggested otherwise.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, smirking as you slid a couple of slices into the slots. “Here, I’ll start it for you. You can handle buttering them when they’re done. Think you’re up for the challenge?”

Draco leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “You’re underestimating me again, love. I’ll butter the toast so flawlessly you’ll weep.”

You snorted, turning to grab plates from the cabinet. “Sure, let’s call that your triumph of the day.”

As the toaster clicked and the smell of warm bread filled the kitchen, Draco busied himself setting the table—his version of setting the table, which involved summoning everything with a flick of his wand and arranging it with the precision of a dinner party.

“You do realize breakfast doesn’t require formal presentation, right?” you teased, sitting down as he placed a perfectly folded napkin by your plate.

Draco smirked, sliding into the seat across from you. “Just because it’s breakfast doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be elegant.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he reached for the now-popped toast, applying butter with such deliberate care you half-expected him to use a ruler for even distribution. Shaking your head with a soft smile, you rose from your seat and quietly grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filling it with fresh coffee from the pot on the counter.

The warm aroma filled the kitchen as you set the pot down and returned to your chair, savoring the first sip in comfortable silence. Across the table, Draco finished buttering the toast and waved his wand casually, sending the coffee pot floating over to his side. It tilted gracefully, pouring a perfectly measured amount of coffee into his mug before settling back in its spot on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of your cup. “So, pouring coffee is too much effort, but you’ll put on a show buttering toast?”

Draco looked up, his expression far too smug. “Presentation matters, darling. Coffee is utility. Buttering toast is an art.”

You snorted, biting back a laugh as you leaned back in your chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and giving you a sly smile, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Debatable,” you shot back, though the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.

As the two of you ate, the quiet hum of the dishwasher filled the air, mixing with the faint clinking of dishes and the comforting warmth of the morning. You couldn’t help but think that, chaotic as it was, life with Draco had its charm.

Halfway through breakfast, Draco cleared his throat, setting his mug down with a deliberate clink. “By the way,” he said nonchalantly, brushing a nonexistent crumb from his sleeve, “my parents have asked to visit for dinner this evening.”

You froze mid-sip, glancing up at him.“Tonight?” 

This wasn’t the first time Draco had invited his parents over since you’d moved in together, but it never got easier. The Malfoys had made their opinions about his choices abundantly clear. The arguments had been frequent and heated when Draco first announced his decision to move into the Muggle world. Dating mudblood, as Lucius had so delicately put it during one particularly venomous conversation, had been a sore point from the start. The disdain in their voices, though carefully masked in your presence, was never far from the surface. Still, Narcissa had tried to keep things civil, at least outwardly. Her maternal instincts, perhaps, outweighed her prejudices. Lucius, on the other hand, had never fully hidden his disapproval. The sideways glances, the veiled barbs—it all painted a clear picture. They saw your relationship as a deviation, something temporary that would inevitably pass. And yet, they remained fairly cordial in front of you, no doubt for Draco’s sake. Tonight’s visit felt like yet another test, one you were determined to pass—though it always left you walking on eggshells.

Draco nodded, as if this were the most natural announcement in the world. “Yes, tonight. Around seven, I believe.”

You blinked, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “Right,” you murmured, your mind already racing. “I’ll need to go shopping today before the shops close, then.”

Draco frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Shopping? Whatever for?”

“For dinner, Draco,” you replied, standing to gather your plate. “We don’t exactly have a stocked pantry suitable for hosting your parents.”

As you moved toward the sink, he waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just send a house-elf to take care of it.”

You froze, staring at him over your shoulder. “Draco,” you said slowly, turning back toward the table, “We don’t have house-elves.”

He blinked, as though the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “We don’t?”

“No,” you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “They don’t exactly come with Muggle homes, you know.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, a look of mild bemusement crossing his face. “Strange. Well, no matter—I’ll ask Father to send a couple over for the day.”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “You’ll what?”

He shrugged, as if this were a completely reasonable solution. “I’ll write him after breakfast. It’s hardly a problem.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again as you tried to formulate a response. Finally, you shook your head, rubbing your temples. “Draco, we are not borrowing house-elves from your dad.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“Because,” you said, sighing as you sat back down, “this is our home. I’m not dragging house-elves into it every time we have guests over. I’ll just go shopping, make a nice meal, and that’s that.”

Draco looked at you as though you’d just suggested cooking dinner over an open flame. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, sipping your coffee again. “This is how Muggles do things. Welcome to the real world.”

For a moment, Draco looked as though he might argue, but then he sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But I’m coming with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To the grocery store?”

“Yes, to the grocery store,” he said, his expression a mix of determination and distaste. “If I’m going to endure this… experiment, I might as well see how it works.”

Smiling, you leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. “Alright then. I’ll go get ready.”

When you returned a short while later, Draco’s gaze immediately fell on the several empty shopping bags you were holding. His brows knitted together in confusion, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply followed your every movement with the intensity of someone trying to solve an unspeakable mystery.

You set the bags by the door and reached for the keys to the house, slipping them into your pocket before pulling on your shoes. Draco’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to leave,” you said, nonchalantly tying your laces.

Draco raised a perfectly arched brow. “And how exactly are we planning to get there? Apparition or Floo Powder?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Neither.”

“Neither?” he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief.

“We’re walking,” you said matter-of-factly, straightening up and grabbing the empty bags.

Draco blinked, his expression torn between incredulity and exasperation. “Walking? Why on earth would we walk when we could be there in seconds?”

“Because,” you explained patiently, “the shop is close by, and it would be weird to just appear in the middle of it. Muggles don’t take kindly to people popping out of thin air near the frozen food aisle.”

Draco stared at you as if you’d just suggested climbing a mountain for fun. “This is madness,” he declared.

You laughed, patting his arm as you opened the door. “Consider it part of the full Muggle experience.”

Still grumbling under his breath about the absurdity of it all, Draco stepped outside with you, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he scanned the street. “Walking,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “What will they think of next?”

You only smirked, knowing the real fun was yet to come. Draco laced his fingers with yours as you stepped out into the crisp winter air, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. He pulled you closer as you walked, his warm breath visible in the cold. The streets were lined with houses adorned with twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, and the occasional snowman standing proudly in a yard.

“I could’ve taken the car,” you said casually, glancing up at him, “but I don’t think you’re ready to experience traffic yet.”

Draco gave you a pointed look, though his lips twitched with faint amusement. “If it’s anything like the stories you’ve told me, I’d rather not risk my sanity—or my temper.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “That’s probably for the best. One honking horn, and you’d be out of there faster than you could say ‘Pure-blood.’”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the bustling scenery around him. The sidewalks were busy with people bundled in coats and scarves, some carrying shopping bags, others chatting cheerfully. There was a warmth to it all—a vibrancy that was so different from the cold, quiet grandeur of the Malfoy Manor.

“For all the stupidity the Muggle world has to offer,” Draco murmured, his voice thoughtful, “I’ll admit… I do enjoy how lively it is.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the rare vulnerability in his tone. “Lively?”

He nodded, his icy eyes catching the glint of the snow-covered streets. “The manor was… beautiful, I suppose. Grand. But it was so isolated. Mostly empty land, save for the occasional visitor or house-elf passing by. There was nothing like this—” he gestured to the people around you, the soft hum of life that filled the air. “—no life, no… warmth.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Well, you’ve got that now,” you said, smiling up at him. “Even if it comes with grocery shopping and dishwashers.”

Draco smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s a compromise I’m willing to make,” he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

As the two of you continued walking, the snowflakes began to fall again, dusting the streets and your hair in a light layer of white. Draco tightened his hold on your hand, the moment between you quiet and peaceful as the world around you bustled with life.

As you approached the grocery store, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin, flipping it between your fingers before sliding it into the lock on a row of shopping carts. With a satisfying click, the cart popped free, and you grabbed it, turning to Draco with a smile.

He stared at the cart, then at you, his brow furrowing. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

You laughed softly, gesturing to the coin slot on the cart. “It’s how you unlock them. You put in a coin, and when you’re done, you get it back.”

Draco’s confusion deepened as he examined the contraption with a critical eye. “Why would you need to pay for a cart? Isn’t that the store’s responsibility? Do you lose the money if you don’t return it?”

“Yes, you only lose the money if you don’t return it.” you explained, suppressing a giggle at his baffled expression. “It’s just a system to make sure people don’t leave the carts all over the parking lot… or steal them”

He tilted his head, considering this. “So, Muggles have to bribe themselves to do the responsible thing?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug, trying not to laugh at the sheer disdain in his voice.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the cart as if it had personally offended him. “What a pitifully inefficient system,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Why not just enchant the carts to return themselves?”

You snorted, wheeling the cart toward the entrance. “Because not everyone has magic, Draco. This works just fine.”

He fell into step beside you, still looking slightly affronted. “I should write to the Ministry. There has to be some sort of international wizarding intervention for this level of absurdity.”

You smirked, patting his arm as you entered the store. “You do that. In the meantime, try not to hex anything while we shop.”

Draco grumbled something under his breath but followed you inside, his sharp gaze taking in the bright fluorescent lights, the neatly stacked shelves, and the bustling crowd. “This is going to be an experience,” he muttered.

“You have no idea,” you replied with a grin, steering the cart toward the produce section.

You wheeled the cart through the store, stopping in the produce aisle to grab fresh herbs and vegetables for the roast dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Draco wander a few steps away, picking up various food items and squinting at the labels like he was deciphering ancient runes. It was adorable, really, but you couldn’t help but focus on your shopping. As you mentally ran through your list, you zigzagged through aisles, tossing essentials into the cart—seasoning, potatoes, stock, bread. Before you knew it, you were in the snacks aisle, debating between crisps and popcorn.

That’s when you realized it. Draco was gone. You glanced around, craning your neck to see if you could spot his silver-blond hair anywhere in the sea of shoppers. Nothing. You sighed, silently praying he hadn’t decided to duel the automatic doors or try to interrogate the self-checkout machine. Just as you picked up a bag of crisps, you heard his unmistakable voice behind you.

“Look at this!” he said, sounding thoroughly impressed.

You turned around, and there he was—holding a bright yellow plastic broom.

“They have brooms here!” he said, turning it over in his hands as if he’d stumbled upon the latest innovation in flying technology. “Never seen one like this… must be a new model.”

You froze, staring at him, your lips twitching as you struggled to keep it together. “A new model?” you repeated, barely managing to suppress a laugh.

Draco nodded, completely serious. “It’s so lightweight. And this handle… not wood, but some kind of sturdy Muggle material. I’ve no idea where the charms are hidden, though.” He ran his fingers along the bristles, frowning slightly. “Odd design, but maybe it improves aerodynamics?”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, fighting to keep your laughter under control. “Draco… that’s not… it’s not a flying broom.”

He blinked, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a broom. What else could it be used for?”

“It’s for cleaning,” you managed, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “Muggles use it to sweep floors.”

Draco stared at the broom, then at you, then back at the broom. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” you said, finally letting out a small giggle. “That’s about as far from a flying broom as you can get.”

Draco’s face twisted into a mixture of horror and disappointment as he looked at the broom again. “They’ve completely ruined it,” he declared, setting it back on the shelf with a level of disdain usually reserved for cursed objects. “What’s the point of a broom that doesn’t fly?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, earning a few amused glances from other shoppers. “Oh, Draco,” you said between giggles, grabbing his arm. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of what we need before you find something else to ‘improve.’”

You couldn’t stop grinning as you watched Draco hover near the cleaning aisle, his gaze fixed on a row of mops. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he gingerly poked at the mop’s sponge end.

“What’s this for?” he asked, holding it up like it was a weapon he needed to disarm.

You chuckled, wheeling the cart closer. “That’s a mop. Muggles use it to clean floors—specifically, to scrub them when they’re wet or dirty.”

Draco’s lips parted in disbelief, and he blinked at you as if you’d just told him people used quills to sew fabric. “You’re telling me… they manually drag this thing around on the floor instead of just casting a Scouring Charm?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a shrug, struggling to keep a straight face.

He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, “Primitive. Absolutely primitive.”

After returning the mop to its place like it had personally offended him, he stuck closer to your side for the rest of the trip, steering the shopping cart with surprising enthusiasm. At first, he pushed it tentatively, testing its movement, but before long, he was zipping down the aisles like a child with a new toy.

“Draco,” you called after him, trying not to laugh as he gave the cart a small push and watched it glide forward. “It’s not a racing broom.”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking but not stopping. “It’s much slower.”

Despite his antics, he peppered you with questions as you continued shopping, picking up random items and holding them out for inspection.

“And this?” he asked, holding up a box of instant pudding mix.

“It’s dessert. You mix it with milk, and it thickens into pudding.”

He frowned. “No wand required?”

“No wand required,” you confirmed, tossing the box into the cart.

He sighed dramatically, moving on to the next item. “And this?”

“A tin opener. It opens cans.”

Draco’s expression fell further. “What’s wrong with an Opening Charm?”

“Not everyone has one, Draco,” you said patiently, biting back a laugh as his disappointment deepened.

Item after item, his curiosity turned into sheer disillusionment. “Muggles really have to work this hard for everything, don’t they?” he muttered, picking up a manual whisk and giving it a dubious glance.

You smirked, taking it from him and placing it in the cart. “It’s not all bad. You’re surviving, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” he replied, pushing the cart forward with a little more flair than necessary.

By the time you made it to the checkout line, Draco had perfected his ‘long-suffering Pure-blood enduring the trials of the Muggle world’ expression, but you couldn’t help but notice the occasional glint of fascination in his eyes as he took in the bustling store around him. You were focused on unloading the cart, placing items neatly onto the till conveyor belt while Draco hovered a safe distance away from the machine. His cautious glances at the moving belt made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t alive. Out of nowhere, he called your name, and you turned just in time for him to shove a small box into your face.

“What is this then?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

You froze, your eyes widening as you recognized the box of condoms he was holding with an almost clinical detachment. Your face turned scarlet in an instant.

“Draco!” you hissed, snatching the box from his hand and glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head as he looked down at you. “What are they for? Some kind of… candy perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words without alerting the nearby cashier or the couple in line behind you. Pulling Draco closer by the sleeve of his coat, you whispered urgently, “They’re… for, um, protection. During, uh, intimate moments.”

Draco’s brows furrowed, his confusion only deepening. “Protection? From what? Are Muggles frequently attacked during—oh.”

The realization dawned on his face, his pale cheeks tinging pink as he took a slight step back. He cleared his throat, glancing at the box still in your hand. “I see. That’s… efficient, I suppose.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your burning face. “Can we please not discuss this here?”

Draco, however, seemed more intrigued than embarrassed now. “Do they… work reliably? Or—how do you even put it on?”

“Draco!” you hissed again, cutting him off as you stuffed the box back onto the shelf behind you.

He smirked at your reaction, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You’re blushing, darling. It’s adorable.”

“Because you just asked about condoms in the middle of a grocery store,” you muttered, turning back to continue unloading the cart, your face still burning.

Draco chuckled softly, clearly finding your embarrassment far too amusing. He stayed quiet for a moment, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him lingering by the shelf where he’d found the box. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the options: strawberry, ribbed, ultra-thin. Before you could say anything, he plucked one off the shelf and, with exaggerated caution, tossed it onto the conveyor belt from a distance, as if it might attack him.

You blinked at him, your confusion only growing as you stared at the box sitting innocently amidst the rest of your groceries. “Draco… what are you doing?”

He avoided your gaze, suddenly very interested in straightening his coat. “What? I want to try them,” he mumbled, his voice almost innocent.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned closer to whisper, “Draco, you do realize these aren’t, like, some kind of Muggle novelty item, right?”

He finally glanced at you, his pale cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m perfectly aware,” he said, straightening his posture. “I just… want to see what all the fuss is about.”

You covered your face with your hand, torn between exasperation and laughter. “You are unbelievable.”

The cashier began scanning the items, and Draco, determined to prove himself useful, did his best to place them into the bags you had handed him. His movements were deliberate and almost comically precise, as if packing groceries was a skill to be mastered.

You watched with quiet amusement as he gingerly placed eggs into a bag, his face a mask of concentration. He only paused when the cashier announced the total and you pulled out a card to pay.

Draco’s eyes widened, his gaze darting between you and the small machine where you inserted the card. “That’s how you pay?” he murmured, half to himself.

“Yup,” you replied, suppressing a grin as the machine beeped, signaling the transaction was complete.

But what truly left him speechless was the receipt. The small slip of paper emerged from a hidden compartment with a faint whirring sound, and Draco stepped back slightly, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

“What now?” you asked, noticing his confusion.

He pointed at the receipt, his voice low and serious. “Is it enchanted?”

You chuckled, taking the receipt and tucking it into your pocket. “No, Draco, it’s just a record of what we bought. No magic involved.”

He said nothing, though his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Once outside, with the shopping bags evenly distributed between you, Draco slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked through the snowy streets. His grip was firm and grounding, but his face was set in a deep, pensive frown. You glanced up at him, his furrowed brows and slightly parted lips betraying the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Deciding not to interrupt, you pressed yourself closer to his side, letting your head rest lightly against the side of his chest. The walk home was quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your boots. Draco remained silent, processing the bizarre journey into Muggle life. You didn’t push him, knowing he’d speak when he was ready—or maybe not at all. By the time you reached your house, his frown had softened, though his eyes still had a far-off look. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you caught the faintest glimmer of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Next time,” he said as he set the bags down, his tone a mix of humor and resignation, “I’ll handle the receipt.”

—

You busied yourself in the kitchen, determined to make a flawless roast dinner for Draco’s parents. You knew they weren’t particularly fond of you or the fact that Draco was immersing himself in the Muggle world. Still, you were set on showing them that you belonged in Draco’s life, no matter how many raised eyebrows they threw your way. Draco leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you work. His silver hair caught the warm light of the kitchen, and though his expression remained neutral, you could tell he was intrigued. You chopped, seasoned, and kneaded everything by hand, and it was clear he wasn’t used to such a process.

“You really do all of this without magic?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yup,” you replied, sprinkling some herbs over the potatoes. “From scratch. It’s not so bad once you get the hang of it.”

Draco hummed in response, clearly not convinced but unwilling to argue. The quiet shuffling of aluminum caught your attention, and you glanced over your shoulder.

What you saw nearly made you drop the salt shaker.

Draco stood there holding an unpackaged, rolled-up condom in his hands, a deep frown etched on his face. He was holding it between his fingers like it was a particularly slimy slug, his lips curling in disgust.

You bit back a laugh, trying to focus on the potatoes as you replied casually, “You have to unroll it.”

“Aha,” Draco mumbled, clearly no less confused, as he turned and disappeared into the other room.

You shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. For a moment, the kitchen was quiet again, save for the sound of the roast sizzling in the oven. Then came muffled grumbles from the other room.

It didn’t take long for Draco to reappear, still holding the condom. His face was a mix of defeat and lingering disgust as he held it up. “I have no idea how this thing works,” he admitted, his voice low. “And why does it feel so… disgustingly slimy?”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, clutching the counter for support as tears sprang to your eyes. “Oh my God, Draco,” you managed between fits of laughter.

He scowled, tossing the condom onto the counter as if washing his hands of the whole ordeal. “It’s not funny!”

“It is!” you replied, wiping at your eyes. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with it!”

Draco sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t understand how Muggles deal with this nonsense. Magical contraceptives are far less… revolting.” He glanced down at the discarded condom with a look of pure disdain. “It couldn’t even go on.”

You bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter as you stepped closer to him. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek gently, guiding his attention back to you. His silver eyes softened slightly, his frown easing as you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips lingering against his just long enough to distract him from his frustration.

When you pulled back, your voice was low, your tone teasing. “You need to be… excited for it to work, Draco.”

Draco blinked, his cheeks immediately flushing a soft pink. He straightened, his usual composure cracking for a brief moment as he processed your words. “Excited?” he echoed, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You grinned, brushing past him to check on the roast in the oven. “That’s right,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just sent his mind spinning.

Draco stood frozen for a moment, glancing back at the discarded condom as if it had betrayed him yet again. Then, he turned to you, his voice laced with indignation. “You could have told me that earlier instead of letting me wrestle with it like some kind of fool!”

You laughed, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Draco huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter once more, his pink cheeks still betraying him. “Muggles,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, Malfoy” you teased, brushing your hands off on a towel. “Go set the table before your parents get here, and I promise no more surprises. For now.”

Draco gave you a mock glare before turning to do as you asked, his mutterings about Muggle nonsense fading as he left the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you returned to your cooking. Living with Draco was chaotic, but moments like this reminded you just how much you loved having him in your world—even if he’d never quite understand all of it.

The table was set perfectly, as if Draco had spent as much time arranging it as you had cooking. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your clothes as the knock on the door echoed through the flat. Draco opened it with his usual composed grace, greeting his parents with a stiff nod.

Narcissa stepped inside first, her expression polite but guarded as she glanced around the house. “Draco,” she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug. Her gaze flicked to you, and she offered a small, tight smile. “Y/N.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” you greeted, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

Lucius followed behind her, his sharp features betraying nothing but disdain as he surveyed his surroundings. He inclined his head slightly toward you, though his lips never moved to form a greeting. It was clear that he was only here under duress, likely at Narcissa’s insistence.

“Do come in,” Draco said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the dining room.

As everyone settled at the table, the tension was palpable. Narcissa sat with perfect posture, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, while Lucius sat rigid, his cane resting against the table. His icy gaze swept the room, his disdain evident in every furrow of his brow.

Draco, however, seemed unbothered. He stood proudly, bringing out the food you had spent all afternoon preparing. He set the dishes on the table with a flourish, clearing his throat. “Dinner is served,” he announced, his voice filled with pride. “And before you ask—yes, it was cooked entirely without magic or the help of house-elves.”

Narcissa’s brows lifted slightly, a spark of genuine surprise in her eyes. “Really?” she asked, glancing at the dishes. “That’s quite impressive.”

Lucius, on the other hand, let out a scoff, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Why anyone would willingly endure such a process is beyond me,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from his wife.

You bit your tongue, focusing on serving the food as Draco sat down beside you, clearly unfazed by his father’s comment. The meal began in awkward silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair.

Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet, turning to her son with a warm, curious smile. “So, Draco, what did you do today?”

Draco sat up straighter, his face lighting up as he launched into an enthusiastic recount of the grocery store trip. “We went to this… Muggle establishment,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and incredulity. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mother. Rows upon rows of food and supplies, all sorted into sections. It was fascinating.”

Narcissa listened intently, her eyes softening as he spoke. “That does sound rather intriguing,” she said, her tone genuine.

Draco continued, describing the shopping cart, the conveyor belt, and the curious beeping machine at the till. “And did you know they have these tiny coins you put into the carts to unlock them?” he added, gesturing animatedly.

Lucius let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Draco’s enthusiasm was physically painful. “I fail to see the appeal,” he muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward the window as though contemplating apparating away.

You stifled a laugh, watching the stark contrast between Draco’s animated storytelling, Narcissa’s interest, and Lucius’s clear misery.

“I even packed the bags,” Draco added proudly. “It’s a ridiculous system, but I managed.”

Narcissa smiled warmly, her pride evident. “I’m glad to see you adapting so well, Draco. It’s important to understand how others live, even if it’s different from what we’re used to.”

Lucius muttered something unintelligible, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his cane.

Draco turned to you, his eyes bright with satisfaction. “See, love? Mother appreciates it.”

You smiled back, your heart warming at his excitement. “She does,” you said softly, glancing at Narcissa, who nodded in agreement.

Lucius, however, simply sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Let us hope this… experiment of yours doesn’t last too long,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.

Draco’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure, reaching for your hand under the table. His fingers squeezed yours briefly, a silent reassurance that he didn’t care what his father thought. The rest of the meal continued with a mix of awkward small talk and Draco’s detailed observations of the Muggle world. Though Lucius remained unimpressed, Narcissa’s quiet encouragement made the effort feel worthwhile. As the conversation wound down and the plates were nearly cleared, Draco suddenly leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. His sharp blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he muttered, his tone casual but with a hint of mischief.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What is it?” you asked cautiously, your brow furrowing as you tried to guess what he could possibly be up to now.

Draco stood up, strolling out of the dining room with the air of someone retrieving an important artifact. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged puzzled glances, while you felt a flicker of dread creeping up your spine. He returned a moment later, holding a familiar box in his hand.

Your heart sank as your face turned beet red. No. No, no, no, no.

He placed the box of condoms on the table, directly in front of you, and tilted his head with a curious smirk. “You never explained properly,” he said smoothly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his nonchalant demeanor. “I think it’s time I fully understood how they work.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Lucius froze mid-sip of his wine, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. Narcissa’s lips parted slightly as her eyes darted between the box and her son. Meanwhile, you felt your soul leaving your body as your entire face burned hotter than the roast in the oven earlier.

“Draco,” you hissed, your voice a mix of mortification and desperation. “Not now.”

“Why not?” he asked innocently, his smirk widening as he clearly enjoyed your discomfort. “You said it was important to understand Muggle things if I am living here.”

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Draco, darling, perhaps this is a… conversation better suited for another time,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with amusement.

Lucius, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to sink into the ground. “For Salazar’s sake, Draco!” he snapped, his pale face turning an uncharacteristic shade of red. “Have you lost all sense of decorum?”

Draco shrugged, unbothered. “I was merely curious, Father. Isn’t that what this move is about—understanding?”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die,” you muttered under your breath.

Draco leaned closer to you, his smirk softening into something almost endearing. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said quietly. “It’s just a box. Besides, you’re the one who said they’re important.”

“Not during dinner with your parents!” you shot back in a harsh whisper.

Narcissa stood gracefully, reaching for her wine glass and glancing at Lucius, who was visibly seething. “Perhaps we should take a moment to admire the décor in the living room,” she suggested, her tone light but firm. “Give them a moment to… collect themselves.”

Lucius rose quickly, eager to escape the situation, and followed her out without another word.

As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned to Draco, glaring at him through your lingering embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?”

He grinned, his pale cheeks still faintly pink. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Draco,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. But despite your mortification, a reluctant laugh bubbled up, escaping your lips.

Draco chuckled softly, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Hey,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “It looks like my parents knew exactly what the box contained.”

You groaned louder, shaking your head as you peeked at him from between your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s more fun than I had ever experienced in my life,” he replied, smirking. “And because your reactions are priceless.”

You swatted his arm lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Draco said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You shook your head, standing to start clearing the table. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth twitched despite your best efforts to remain stern.

Draco stood as well, grabbing a plate and following you to the kitchen. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother look that impressed. You’re winning her over, you know.”

You glanced at him, your irritation melting a little as you caught the sincerity in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But your dad looks like he’s ready to disown you.”

Draco shrugged, setting the plate down on the counter. “He’ll survive. I’d say this visit is going better than expected.”

You arched an eyebrow, gesturing toward the box still sitting on the table. “Even with that little stunt?”

He smirked, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Especially because of that,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you turned back to the dishes. Life with Draco was unpredictable, embarrassing, and absolutely worth it.

After a while, with the kitchen cleaned and dessert plates neatly arranged, you rejoined Draco’s parents in the living room. You placed the cake and a small pot of tea on the coffee table, smiling as Narcissa complimented the presentation. “It looks lovely, dear,” she said warmly, her eyes lighting up as she tasted the first bite. “And delicious.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief at her approval.

Meanwhile, Draco stood by the TV, flicking it on with the remote. The screen lit up, filling the room with sound and color. He had been obsessed with it ever since the two of you moved in, constantly exploring its features and marveling at the variety of channels.

“And this,” he began, gesturing to the screen, “is called a television. It’s a Muggle device that streams moving pictures and sound. There are different stations—some show plays or sports, others music or news.”

Lucius, who had been seated stiffly on the sofa, cast the TV a disinterested glance at first. But as Draco flipped through the channels, his gaze lingered, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

Draco settled on a music channel, where a pop song played over vibrant, fast-moving visuals. Lucius leaned forward slightly, his cane forgotten at his side as his eyes remained glued to the screen.

Narcissa, meanwhile, sipped her tea and turned to you with a soft smile. “The cake is truly wonderful, Y/N. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, glancing at Lucius, whose face was now bathed in the colorful glow of the TV. Draco was explaining the concept of music videos, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and pride.

“And these stations,” Draco said, pointing to the remote, “play music continuously. The visuals match the songs—like this one, see?”

Lucius didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were analyzing every detail. Eventually, he gave a slow nod. “Remarkable,” he muttered under his breath, clearly fascinated despite his obvious disdain for anything muggle.

Narcissa glanced at him with a knowing smile but said nothing, letting her husband enjoy his unexpected discovery.

After a while, Narcissa stood gracefully, placing her empty teacup on the table and smoothing the fabric of her elegant robe. “It’s getting late,” she said gently, her tone warm but firm. “We should be heading home.”

Lucius didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where a lively music video was playing. His normally composed expression was slightly softened, his eyes darting between the screen and the remote in Draco’s hand.

“Lucius,” Narcissa prompted, her voice holding a hint of exasperation. “It’s time to go.”

He finally tore his gaze away from the screen, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yes, yes, in a moment,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively as if he needed just a little more time to understand the contraption.

Draco smirked, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I think he likes it,” he whispered to you, his voice filled with amusement.

Narcissa gave you a knowing glance, her lips twitching into a faint smile before turning back to her husband. “Lucius,” she said again, a bit more firmly this time, “we’re leaving. Now.”

Lucius sighed dramatically, rising from the sofa but casting the TV one last, reluctant glance. “I suppose,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “we can continue exploring this… device another time.”

You exchanged goodbyes at the door, Narcissa giving you a soft pat on the arm and a smile that felt almost maternal. Lucius remained as formal as ever, though there was an unusual glint in his eye as he glanced at the living room one last time.

As the two of them stepped outside, you lingered by the door with Draco. The crisp night air carried the faint sound of their voices as they walked toward the apparition point.

“You know,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa, his voice carrying just enough for you to catch, “we should consider getting one of those televisions for the manor.”

Narcissa’s laugh was soft but unmistakable. “I’ll make the arrangements,” she replied, her tone indulgent.

Draco closed the door, leaning against it with a triumphant smirk. “See?” he said, turning to you. “It wasn’t so bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you just converted your father into a TV enthusiast.”

“Not bad for one evening,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Though I’d say the real victory was your cake. Well done, love.”

You smiled, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss. “Thanks, but I think your TV demonstration might’ve been the real winner tonight.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course. I am rather persuasive.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you turned off the living room lights—a concept Draco still found mildly perplexing. He mumbled something about how inconvenient switches were compared to a simple wand flick as you guided him upstairs to your bedroom.

By the time you finished washing up and changed into your pajamas, Draco was already tucked under the covers. The glow from his nightlight—a softly enchanted orb you’d insisted on for his comfort—bathed the room in a warm, golden hue.

You paused at the vanity, applying cream to your face while sneaking a glance at him through the mirror. He was sitting upright, his brow furrowed as he read the label on the back of the box of condoms. His lips moved faintly as if he were trying to work out some sort of  instructions.

Biting back a laugh, you shook your head and turned off the main lights, leaving only the dim glow of his nightlight. Crawling into bed beside him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Still trying to figure that out?” you asked, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Draco looked over at you, holding up the box with a faint smirk. “The instructions are absurdly detailed for something so… basic.”

You chuckled, resting your head on the pillow. “I’m not sure what you expected. Magic?”

“Honestly, yes,” he replied, setting the box on the nightstand and settling under the covers. “Everything’s unnecessarily complicated without it.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, if it gets too overwhelming, just remember—I’m here to guide you through it.”

Draco turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over your hand before pulling you closer.

As the nightlight cast its soft glow over the room, you snuggled into his side, grateful for the quiet comfort of the moment. Life with Malfoy was a whirlwind, but here, in the stillness of your shared space, everything felt just right. Draco was silent for a while, though you could feel him thinking, his body slightly tense beneath yours. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, soft and hesitant. “Could you show me how to use them? Tonight?”

You lifted your head to look at him, his silver eyes meeting yours, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Leaning in, you placed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to reassure him. When you pulled back, you smiled gently, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Of course.”

The room fell into a quiet calm, the only sounds the faint rustle of the sheets as you moved closer to him. Draco’s arms wrapped around you, his touch steady and warm. Life in the muggle world had turned out to be far more surprising than Draco had ever expected. It wasn’t as grand or as effortless as the magical life he’d always known, but there was something about it—something real, unpolished, and oddly comforting.

Though, as he discovered later that night, the condoms were nothing special after all.

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[slutforwoo]

☆ 1. a what now? ☆

masterlist | next

warnings: masturbation, orgasm denial, praise, rough raw sex (use protection yes you) pet names, baby, pretty girl degrading (slut), overstimulation, dacryphilia, woos kinda a mean dom, let me know if I missed anything else!

☆ SMUT UNDER THE CUT ☆

Yunho got off of his phone, shaking his head. Why would his friends recommend something so? so unhinged to him? He just simply couldn’t understand why they would. As always, he threw himself back into his work. Producing the new base of the track so Joong and Mingi could take over.

Turns out the ask was harder than he thought it would be, or maybe he was getting stumped. Writer’s block? no producers block as he called it.

He looked at the clock on his laptop. 7:45 p.m. 15 minutes before the stream that his friends were raving about. And suddenly he found himself interested. He stared at the link Hongjoong had sent. Deciding to say fuck it, he typed in the link to his laptop. His screen filled with the log in for OnlyFans. Hongjoong wasn’t a liar. He had made Yunho an account with a month’s subscription paid.

Once he logged in, he saw the girl fill his screen. His jaw was on the floor. She never showed her face, but her body was stunning. He couldn’t help but sit and appreciate the beautiful outfits and intricate poses that were in front of him. He felt his pants tighten as he looked at these photos.

Fuck, there was no doubt he was stirring something in him that he had forgotten about. A ding sounded from the computer. “ Cherrycola is now live!”

He found himself hesitating on clicking the live. He had never watched a camgirl live before. Sure, he watched porn, but everyone knows watching it live is different. And this would be his first. He let out a groan of frustration before he clicked on the link. Your body filled the screen in the sheer black lingerie that Wooyoung had picked out for tonight. The stockings connecting to your bodysuit, the way the robe fit loosely in contrast to the tight lingerie. It made Yunho’s cock twitch in his pants. That seemed to keep getting tighter and tighter as he looked at you.

Then, you spoke so gently and assertive to the camera.

“Hi, my loves, welcome to tonight’s stream. Remember, tips are always appreciated, and if you would like to control some of the things we do, remember we only do it if you pay for it.” You spoke softly yet assertively to the chat. Once the final words left your mouth, Wooyoung appeared behind you. His usual black ski mask was replaced with a white one for the night. You had gotten a message that had a $200 tip with it, requesting Ski mask to return with a white ski mask. You couldn’t understand why, but obviously, you were going to comply.

Yunho watched as the masked man lightly stroked your shoulders, making you visibly shudder. Concentrated on how gentle he was being, he felt himself somehow get harder when the masked man began to manhandle you. He choked you and threw you onto the bed, causing whimpers to escape your mouth as you felt yourself get wet.

“Yea, you like that, don’t you, pretty girl? You like being treated like a slut?” The masked man asked as he ran a hand over your pussy, before he pulled your lingerie to the side and slid a finger into you, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

And once he heard that, he immediately unbuttoned his pants and took off his boxers, jerking off to the sounds of you being fingered by the masked man. It didn’t take long before your clothes were ripped off. Yunho swore up and down you were sculpted by the gods themselves. Your body was so stunning. He couldn’t help but admire it as the camera scanned over u. Before u were flipped onto your stomach. Exposing the new and beautiful back tattoo you had gotten over break.

“Sir, please, I’m not used to you anymore,” you whined out as Wooyoung slowly pushed into you. Which wasn’t a lie; before you took your break, you did one last stream with Seonghwa. It had been 2 weeks since Wooyoung fucked you. While Seonghwa is more on the longer side (8 inches), Wooyoung was more of an average length (6 inches), but he had more girth to him. He was big, and you had to adjust every time you took him.

“I don’t care, you’re gonna take it like a good girl, right? Let me use you, baby.” Wooyoung groaned out as he forced himself into you.

You cry out from the stretch. It hurt, but in such a good way that you felt your head spin.

“More, please,” you whimpered out, and Wooyoung was more than happy to oblige as he started to pound into you.

Yunho was so mesmerized by you. He was stroking himself to the rhythm of the thrust, acting like he was the one fucking you.

“Sir, please let me come.” You begged out, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach.

And you heard it the tips pouring in ordering Wooyoung to edge you till you couldn’t handle it.

Jongie3848 sent $100! Edge her till she’s sobbing.

Minki7472 sent $250! And after she comes overstimulate her till she’s crying and running from you.

Dino73$: sent $100!

ChanChris3747 Sent $200!

Starsinhwa sent $500! You better be fucking her good.

Yunho was shocked by the donations. And more so by the fact that the mask man listened.

“You heard that pretty girl, no cumming till I say so,” he moaned out. He was close to release himself. You felt so good it was hard.

“P-please c-can’t t-ta- uh fuck please sir” You mewled out as he pounded into you harder.

You felt the tears prick at your eyes before you began to beg as the tears streamed down your face, and although the audience couldn’t see it, they could hear your sobs and pleas for release.

And the minute Yunho heard that. He found himself thrusting into his hand desperately as he released all over his pants.

What the fuck did I just do? He questioned as he came back to reality.

[reality-detective]

You won't see or hear this 👇 on your tv, in fact you probably won't see it anywhere...

The below is the first of a series on the Deep State Cabal’s Underground DUMB Tunnels used for US illegal bioweapon labs and Child Sex Trafficking, Organ and Adrenochrome Harvesting.

· On 20 Feb. 2017 Julian Assange unveiled a bombshell on Fox News Hannity, alleging that Wikileaks had hard proof that former President Barack Hussein Obama, along with his sidekick Joe Biden, operated and participated in a pedophile ring based in the White House.

· On New Year’s Day 2021 and a few weeks before the Biden fake Presidential Inauguration that was partially filmed on a Hollywood movie set, Delta Forces (under direction of President Trump) had raided Joe Biden’s 200 acre property in the Ukraine. The Military found a maze of underground chambers and tunnels that ran for miles in every direction. Bits of necrotic flesh hung from ankle and wrist shackles bolted to the walls. Seized laptops were said full of evidence of Biden’s massive international money laundering, gun/ drug running, child/human trafficking scheme – that appeared connected to other high powerful elites.

· Within this last month the recently arrested Satan worshipping Jeffrey Epstein of Hollywood, P Diddy, was exposed by his daughter Ally Carter. Ally was a survivor of pedophilia and human trafficking and she dropped a bombshell: there’s an entire network of tunnels that spans across the United States, connecting cities such as beneath the White House in Washington DC and Disney World Florida. These tunnels, Carter claims, are being used to traffic humans, mainly children.

· Since at least the end of World War II, an extensive Worldwide network of DUMB Underground Tunnels used for Child Sex Trafficking have been financed, built and run by members of the illuminati, Deep State, or Cabal using US taxpayer dollars funneled through a CIA Black budget.

· This was about child sex rings and blackmail at the highest levels of government. Evidently President George H.W. Bush orchestrated a child sex ring to blackmail Congress and top officials. It was named “Operation Brownstone” and “Operation Brownstar”.

· A secret US Military Operation trained for over a year on how to rescue what became millions of horrifically abused children from that extensive network of Underground DUMB Tunnels. It ran across the US, Canada, Mexico, South America and then throughout the World. Recent operations centered beneath major cities in New York, California, Florida, Washington DC and Disney World in Florida.

· The vast Worldwide child rescue missions was headed by President Trump, the Pentagon Pedophile Task Force, US Special Forces and Marines in cooperation with Interpol, and various nations’ special military forces. They included arrests of pedophile perpetrators and destruction of the underground tunnels and bases through bombs that caused minor earthquakes.

· The rescues began on Oct. 16 2019 when US Marines, Navy Seals and Special Forces rescued over 2,100 caged babies and children beneath the China Lake Navy facility in California. The children and teens were said to have been sexually abused, tortured and killed to collect their adrenaline.

Secret Underground Tunnels Beneath Florida! Sat. 12 Oct. 2024: EXPOSED: Secret Underground Tunnels Beneath Florida! The Hidden Network Under Ybor City You Were Never Meant to Discover.

And after hurricane Milton blew through, Ezra Cohen who has been a very accurate source posted 👇

I'm going to try to keep up with this series, and let's see what comes up about Taiwan 🤔

[max-nicoxfandom]

A little snippet based off this post

Tim and Stephanie would both like to preface they know what they're doing is a bad idea. They do not need Duke, who is also listening in, to repeatedly tell them how terrible of an idea this is. He still does anyway, just to make sure he can rub it in when this all backfires later, but really, Tim and Stephanie already know.

They have both just decided to ignore that silly little fact in the name of information gathering.

So here sits Steph and Duke, huddled up in Duke's bedroom in front of Tim's laptop. Tim, meanwhile, is disguised as some random blonde haired, brown eyed kid. His fake backstory is vaguely based off one socialite or another, because even though he can change his tone or his accent, he just can't seem to hide the wealthy sounding lit in his voice.

In the back of his head, Jason and Stephanie's voices overlap. Once a rich boy always a rich boy, they say. Tim shivers.

"The Baby Bird has landed in The Nest." Duke sighs over Tim's com. "I still don't understand why the codenames are necessary."

"You know why they're necessary."

"Ow!"

Tim may not be in the same room as them, but it's not hard to figure out that Stephanie gave Duke a good punch on the arm. If Tim was there himself, he would've done it too. Duke knows that saying Peter's name within a miles range of the manor will cause the entire family to appear.

Duke himself wasn't even originally part of the plan! The only reason he's here is because Steph said Peter's name while they were talking, and then Duke just happened to wander one of the empty rooms in the manor! Seriously, what business did he even have in there?!

"Landing in the nest." Tim whispers. "Muting now."

"Roger that."

He mutes their side of the com, so they can hear everything he hears, but he can't hear them. It can be overridden by the two still at the manor if the need be, but Tim has faith that he at least won't fuck up that bad. Not bad enough for any help Steph can offer to be useful, at least.

He steps inside the coffee shop Peter frequents, oddly enough, it's actually called The Nest, and Tim's favorite cafe. It's the only place he can get their liquid death special, and he's pretty sure the only reason they keep it around is because he always tips at least $200 when he comes.

It makes sense that Peter would also frequent the place since he's his future nephew. Though, it's probably because Tim passed down his coffee habits. A fact that he will elect to keep from Dick so the man doesn't kill him before Peter's born.

Speaking of Peter, he just sat down in the far corner booth. The one that still has ink stained in the old wood, from that time he got a little too frustrated working on a case here. The one that has Dick's lightly carved initials in the side of the table, because when he wants to spend one on one time with Tim he likes to bring him here, knowing he can't say no to their coffee.

It makes him warm, knowing they probably continued the tradition with Peter when he was old enough.

Currently, Peter is tinkering with a futuristic looking watch. His coffee sits a good distance away, an obviously learned behavior, because Tim does the same thing after many many many drinks lost to an unrefined sweep of his arm. He's pulling other pieces out of a good sized black backpack next to him, quickly covering the whole booth in random looking machinery, completely engrossed in his project.

So Tim does what any other self respecting uncle whose nephew doesn't know he's his uncle, would do. He buys his favorite coffee, adjusts the blonde wig by running a seemingly innocuous hand through it, tips the barista, and sits across from his nephew with a smile.

He calls it a win when Peter wearily returns it.

"Sorry if I'm intruding." Tim starts, throwing a little rasp in his voice for the sake of his cover. "I was just curious about what you're... Working on... Looks complicated."

"Oh, it's a uh-- personal project. For my mentor. I'm under strict NDAs."

Tim nods. He wonders if Peter's telling the truth, and if he is, he's sure the NDAs are from WE, it's just a question on who he's referring to as a mentor.

"Ah, that's too bad. Do you mind if I just sit and watch? For curiosity's sake, I mean."

Even to his own ears that sounded suspicious, but he's never been good at improv. That's more Jason and Dick's thing.

Peter, at the very least, doesn't seem to care. He just shrugs and sips his coffee.

In that case, whatever he's working on probably can't be replicated at this point in time. There's probably some big discovery that hasn't been made yet, which makes Tim wonder who made the discovery. He'd bet $50 on himself or Bruce.

Conversation doesn't continue after that, so Tim just sits and observes.

Peter is clearly skilled. He moves with an assured elegance only to be competed with by himself and Jason, since both of them are the most skilled engineers of the family, though in two different fields. It's especially impressive with the eyebags that pull heavily on Peter's face, which he's sure he got from Bruce and not him no siree. Peter did not learn to overwork himself to death from him, that would be unacceptable.

The exhaustion leaks into his whole body. Low shoulders, slow movements, heavy slouching, small periods of zoning out and coming back to himself. He looks a little bit like shit, if Tim were to be fully honest.

At least it will be easier to get information out of him this way. The quicker they get information, the quicker they can send him home, the quicker his family can bundle him up and let him sleep for a week.

"So," Tim cannot help but break the silence. He's an anxious talker. "Your mentor? Is he cool?"

Peter pauses, his eyes slowly dragging up to meet Tim's brown contacts. "He's the best. I spend basically all my time with him nowadays."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's kinda hard on me, but it's just cuz he cares, y'know? He thinks he's this like- manipulative genius that has somehow fooled me into liking him, but honestly, he's giving himself too much credit. He just doesn't want to accept the fact that he's a good person, or that he's gone soft."

Peter rambles and Tim listens, nodding along as he talks. He's sure Duke and Stephanie are tuned in as well. Between the three of them there's no way they don't at least get some information on how to help him.

"I'm sure your parents are thrilled about that." Tim puts implication in his tone. He's not sure what he's apparently implying, but insinuation tends to make people defensive, and getting defensive makes people talk.

Peter does not get defensive.

"I wouldn't know." He shrugs. "They're not here for me to ask."

"Oh, where are they?" Tim asks, like an idiot.

"Dead."

Tim's whole world may have just crumbled before his eyes. He feels like somebody just crushed his lungs with their barehands, and then stuck them back in, sideways.

The first thought that comes to him is he cannot tell Dick. Under no circumstances can Dick find out. Hell, Tim kinda wishes he hadn't found out.

"I'm sorry for your loss." His throat is dry, the coffee isn't helping.

"Nah, it's alright. They died when I was little, so I don't have a lot of memories of them anyway."

"I-It's still unfortunate." Tim coughs. "So who raised you then? If you don't mind me asking."

A smile overtakes Peter's face. It's warm, loving, and wistful. It makes Peter look five years younger, and that makes Tim's heart clench.

"My uncle and aunt did."

"You look very fond of them."

Peter looks more awake than has this whole time, just the slightest bit bashful. "I am. They're the best."

Tim is having a hard time grasping how utterly crushed he feels, he can only hope it doesn't show on his face as he talks. Maybe he can play it off as being overly sympathetic.

"So it was just you guys then? No other family?"

"Nope." Peter shakes his head. "My uncle didn't really get along with any of them, and after he took me in, my aunt went no contact like he did."

So it was probably Jason who took him in then, which is somehow exactly something he would do and nothing like him at the same time. Tim has to wonder where Bruce was, or himself. And which aunt? Tim bets on Stephanie, but it could've been Cass.

"It sounds like you've lived an interesting life."

"Yeah. I wouldn't trade it for the world though." The truth in those words aches Tim's chest, he feels so winded... Lost, maybe. He almost forgets to listen when Peter continues reminiscing. "My aunt definitely did her fair share to make it interesting. She's basically the fiery redhead stereotype, but she cares a lot about everyone..."

Whatever Peter says next gets lost as Tim sinks into his own thoughts. The aunt is not Cass or Steph, unless one of them has been repeatedly dying their hair for years. Steph might still be on the table, maybe. More likely is Barbara, or possibly even Kori, maybe Roy is trans and hasn't told anyone yet. He'll have to ask Jason when he gets the chance.

Tim regrets his coffee, he thinks he's gonna be sick.

"Are you okay?"

Clearly, Tim is doing a bad job at hiding it.

"Yeah, sorry I need to get back home now, but thanks for keeping me company."

He could have stayed. Probably should have, even. But Tim doesn't think he can stand another moment with that old ink stain in eyesight.

"Oh yeah, it's no problem. I didn't mean to ramble to you like that."

Peter rubs his hand on the back of his neck, his eyes trailing off in the distance. He's embarrassed, he knows it for sure because Dick makes that exact same expression.

Tim walks out, and the chime of the bell above the coffee shop door sounds more far away than it should.

He can distantly hear Stephanie's voice in his ear say, "Well. Fuck."

Tim couldn't have put it better himself

I wrote this at 1am and it's barely proofread so don't @ me if there are mistakes. Who would've thought this would be my first piece of writing posted on this blog, huh

1) the watch. It's the universe hopping watch from spiderverse, figured that'd be a good explanation for how he got here and for what he's doing at the coffee shop

2) complete coincidence that it was that coffee shop fyi, he just needed a place to work

3) he chose that booth bc it's the booth that overlooks the entire cafe. It's vigilante 101 about seating choices.

4) thank you to @magicpiano for the original post. I have so many more thoughts about it but I doubt I'll write another piece... Maybe <(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)>

Send me an ask, if you want /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

[rookiesbookies]

Oh my God, if you wrote more sex doll!141 I would be thrilled. It's such a good concept and you've executed it wonderfully!! (Personally I'm partial to simon but if you wrote any of the other characters I would still eat it up).

-🦝

So I’m going to be honest, Simon is a very difficult character for me to right in intimate situations because of how his character is structured. It’s one of the reasons I have trouble flushing out how I write him and why he may be much more varying than my other boys when I write them fic to fic. He’s truthfully the hardest character for me to right and he’s the one I know the most about so I hope this is good.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

I gift you, Sex Doll!Simon and his loser!reader as a gift. As always, under the cut.

A doll and his loser 2, electric boogaloo.

When Simon’s lady had ordered him, she had also been drunk. She was ovulating, feeling sorry for herself, and incredibly horny when the ad on whatever porn site she was on popped up for the sex dolls. So she scrolled through the options, noticing the ‘Johnny’ Doll was sold out, but it didn’t matter, one had caught her eye immediately. The doll style they had named ‘Simon’. His mask made her run wild. She noticed how the pants clung to his thighs and wide shoulders and it made her mouth water. She couldn’t even remember what she ordered the next morning between headaches and vomiting but she just assumed it was something she forgot and paid off that credit card charge.

It was days later when the box arrived.

“Big ole box you got there,” her neighbor teased, “need help getting it in, little lady?”

She huffed, she had been trying to push it in for about 20 minutes. “Please,” she whined.

Her neighbor helped get the probably 200 pound package into her room. The box was all scratched, fragile stickers torn. She thanked her neighbor and ushered him out as she began to open the weird box.

The language seemed made up, but she didn’t expect to get the box open and a giant Ken doll to fall on her with a loud thud as the two hit her floor.

“You’re a big bitch,” she groaned as she shoved the doll off her. His eyes fluttered open and she watched him curiously. “Hi.”

She was met with silence. He seemed mute, like his mouth was stuck shut.

Confused and slightly disappointed, she stared down at the doll lying on her floor.

She had expected an interactive experience, a companion that would fulfill her desires, but all she had in front of her was a lifeless figure. Frustration began to well up within her, fueled by the lingering effects of her hangover.She had gotten wasted the night before again.

Frustrated, she decided to give the doll a chance. After all, she had spent a considerable amount of money on it, and maybe there was a way to activate its features. She carefully inspected the doll, running her hands over its smooth, artificial skin and marveling at the intricate details. But no matter how hard she looked, there didn't seem to be any buttons or switches that would bring it to life.

Determined to find a solution, she grabbed her laptop and searched for the website where she had made the purchase. But it was as if the site never existed. It wasn’t in her search history, it wasn’t in her purchase history, she couldn’t even find a number on the box.

Frustration turned to confusion as she scrolled through her browsing history, desperately trying to find any trace of the website that had led her to this mysterious doll. It was as if the entire transaction had been erased from existence.

Feeling a mixture of unease and curiosity, she decided to take matters into her own hands. With the doll still lying motionless on the floor, she sat down next to it and began examining every inch of its body. Perhaps there was some hidden mechanism, some secret activation method that she had missed.

Then she saw the icon on the box between the gibberish writing, something about the lips.

She crouched down and tenderly pressed her lips against the cool, skin textured rubber of the cheek of the robot. In response, his previously stiff body began to move and his facial features softened into a look of happiness.

A surge of excitement coursed through her veins as she realized that there was more to this doll than met the eye. She had stumbled upon something extraordinary, something beyond her wildest dreams. Her hangover instantly forgotten, she eagerly awaited what would happen next.

Slowly but surely, the doll began to move. Its previously inanimate limbs twitched and flexed as if awakening from a deep slumber.

“Hi,” she said softly, running her hand over the mask.

He flipped his mask up over his lips and quickly kissed her passionately.

She let out a squeak as he climbed on top of her.

“So pent up,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck as she giggled. His hands roaming free. “So stiff, I could use a good stretch, love. And it seems based on your purchase of me, you could too.” He said with a teasing tone before pulling off her pants she wore to work.

He began to eat her through her panties, but it was more lip locking with her lower set. He moved her panties to the side and continued his make out session with her labia. His teeth occasionally gently pulling on them. He took his sweet time getting her wet before he did any more. He spit on her then dug in.

Messy, his face covered in her natural lube, mask rubbing against her clit.

She sat there like this for a while but she got too loud so he stretched his long arm so his palm stretched over her mouth, thumb rubbing her cheek as he continued. Her eyes rolling back as he edged her slowly. One, then two, then three times. Her body convulsing as he finally lifted himself, she let out a whine and he shushed her before freeing himself from his jeans.

He got real close to his ear. “How badly.” He commanded.

She whined out pitifully as a plea.

“Good.” He said, throwing a leg over his shoulder before sliding in and thrusting. A fast pace in, a roll of the hips, and slow pull out. He held this pace for so long she began to feel like the sex doll. It was brutal in the most wonderful way.

Toe curling.

Ball smacking.

Pussy dripping.

Best sex of her life.

Her cervix thoroughly bullied.

Her moans muffled and covered by his rough palm.

Her rug covered in sweat, her flooring under it glistening with heat.

When he finally let her come it was like reaching the peak of Everest. She gasped and whined and moaned, almost screamed into his palm. He fucked her through it and came not long after from her body milking his cock.

He removed his hand and cock making her whine, returning his mouth to her cunt to make out with it again.

He cleaned her of his cum before picking her up and running a bath.

“Worth every penny.” Was all her mushed brain could muster.

[kkoct-ik]

PLEASE explain ur shin DID thoughts I wanna know so bad

boy am i glad you asked (LONG POST)

prefacing by saying the sou DID headcanon is very special to me to the point that i talk about it as if it is canon. i know it is not canon. i'm not arguing that this is what these moments mean, i'm arguing this is an interpretation that i really enjoy, and this interpretation of sou's character speaks to the DID experience Unnervingly well.

i use sou & shin interchangebly, they are parts of the same person, but generally i say sou for during the death game and shin for before.

so. first.

the important bit — sou's dissociation from shin tsukimi

during his first trial, shin tsukimi is given the winning percentages. there he learns that 'shin tsukimi' cannot survive the death game.

to escape shin tsukimi's weakness and inevitable death, shin abandons him, and instead takes on the name and certain characteristics of midori, to build a new self — sou hiyori. he disowns his identity as shin tsukimi to psychologically escape from his fate, so that he can psychologically survive in this moment and keep living.

a part of DID is the repression and disowning of the weak and hurting parts of you, and in turn outwardly becoming & functioning as someone or something else that can survive.

sou very literally dissociates from the weak parts of his identity and becomes & functions as someone else to survive.

and that's the absolute basis of the headcanon. turn back now if you want to. the rest is me slowly losing my sanity.

me slowly losing my sanity

so. listen. here's the thing. theres a lot more in sous behaviour that you could interpret as DID if you know where to look.

it's not quite as simple as "there are two of him: shin tsukimi (who was weak, easily manipulated, and incredibly scared) and sou hiyori (who is not that)". there are quite a few more moving parts to this guy, and also a lot of grey areas where his identity breaks down and develops over the course of the game.

the sou we first meet is timid, but not particularly vulnerable: polite, but observant. you get the vibe he is silently taking note of everything you do, because he is. during the first main game, he takes control of the discussion by claiming to be the Keymaster, both securing his survival, and giving himself a level of control over the discussions.

when the information he found on the laptop and his attempts to throw suspicion on Sara causes everyone to doubt him, he begins to panic. he brings up the moment Nao hit him - something that must have been triggering to him, considering what defines 'sou hiyori' is that he is not weak like shin tsukimi is.

i like to think in this moment a subconcious part of him realises that the present sou hiyori is not removed enough from shin tsukimi to be free of danger. despite his distance, he's weak enough to be attacked - he could have been killed, and now he's at the mercy of the masses.

his protective parts and mechanisms need to kick in at 200%. so they do.

under the pressure sou snaps and goes into a a very aggressive protector part. sou projects outwards his vulnerability complex, calling everybody else 'weaklings' who are going to die (reinforcing his dissociation from shin tsukimi). he suddenly openly rejects the value of trust and human cooperation, in an attempt to make himself seem untouchable and entirely in control.

section: sou's protector part

i love this guy so i marked out a section just to break down his protective mechanisms. this is a direct continuation from the paragraph i just ended.

after his first instance in the first main game, sou's protector part (easily spotted by his fucking mastermind persona) appears multiple times to cover up moments of vulnerability. it makes him out to be a liar, but it also makes him seem incredibly calculating and dangerous, which works just fine for him.

during the token trade game, sou 'fakes' amnesia to avoid being singled out for his actions during the first main game. he reverts back to his polite & timid demeanour for a portion of the chapter, and also sleeps for a large portion of it (due to his sickness). but to allow himself this leeway (either to play up or let slip his weakness) he employs protective mechanisms: he enthusiastically tells Sara that his memory loss was a lie, and that he's been playing them all for fools. he intentionally gives her the impression that every moment of weakness he has let slip or otherwise is part of an elaborate plot.

whether this is purely for the sake of managing how the person he fears most percieves him, or because in this part he is genuinely so disconnected from his vulnerable parts and weakness that he refuses to acknowledge it was real, is up to interpretation to me. but i do love how many layers of lies and contradiction he symbolises.

(i choose to believe his amnesia was a genuine moment of vulnerability, because the scene makes me So Happy if i read it as a vulnerable part slipping through the cracks, who's entirely disconnected from the stressful events of the main game and is genuinely terrified. i like to think his later claim it was a lie was because he could not risk Sara genuinely witnessing his repressed weakness that he swore he disowned at the door. but i digress)

he has a similar 'moment of weakness' during the second main game, where he makes it more explicit that he is not necessarily him telling the truth when he says his earlier weakness was a lie. he relies on other's confusion and the fact people think he is one step ahead of them to protect himself.

he continues to employ his mastermind persona even after the shin tsukimi reveal - although its effect is somewhat lost now that everybody knows that he has vulnerable parts (and people he loves) to protect, and that his persona exists for their sake, not because it's his true personality.

mfw when the ego protection mechanism crumbles because i was vulnerable once and now my protector part hates me.

section: shadow sou

i was going to immediately follow onto shinai and what we can learn from him, but i want to clarify shadow sou first.

the long and short of it is i think he's the closest thing we have to a midori introject. while you could argue sou hiyori has introjected traits (which he most certainly does: he takes his name for christ's sake), i think shadow sou most explicitly takes after him, especially if you read soushin as an emotionally abusive relationship.

(lingo: what is an introject? an introject is an alter who represents internalised traits and figures. for example, if you had a personality who treated you like your mother treated you, and reinforces the beliefs you internalised from her, that would be an introject of your mother. they do not have to be accurate to the real person's personality; they only echo how you saw and internalised them.)

shadow sou speaks with sou like an familiar but condescending friend, comments on sou no longer being shin, and exists to reinforce shin's feeling of weakness. midori encourages shin to become the person you want to be; shadow sou is the one to pressure shin into becoming someone else. midori is a 'scary friend' of shin's, shadow sou physically frightens and attacks shin during his moment of panic.

as far as we know, we never meet shadow sou from Sara's point of view, so i interpret him as a more internal alter. there's a lot to play off with sou's / shin's / shadow sou's relationship: i think they are soooo cute. i just wanted to point out the similarities between him and midori.

section: shinaiiiiiiii: what can he tell us?

ok yaay onto shinai. although not strictly a version of sou (not his repressed weak personality, not his polite but wary personality, not his masterminding ego protection personality, and not his internal shadow self), because he is a computer program, he does give us a certain perspective on who sou used to be.

disclaimer: we know shinai was trained by midori's love poetry, and thus you can argue his personality could be slightly altered to be more suited to midori's purposes. for the sake of this section we will take things with a grain of salt: it's what shinai can suggest about shin, not tell.

shinai gives us the impression that shin tsukimi was polite, had somewhat low self esteem, and was conflicted on midori: on one hand, he scared him a lot, but on the other, he considered him close, and they spent a lot of time together.

during the maple boss fight, shinai sobs for midori to help him. i get the impression that despite being afraid of him, shin still relied on midori for security and reassurance (sou's lantern dialogue to corroborate).

my friend suggested that shinai's / sou's conflicting accounts (with part of him being afraid of midori, and the other seeking assurance from him) could in itself imply that shin (even before the game even began) is made up of two alters with opposing attachment styles. i dont disagree.

sou vs the shinai test data

this one will be short i promise.

i really like sou's morbid interest in the shinai test data. and i know the joke is that it's love poetry and sou is embarassed and repulsed by how midori saw him, especially now that he knows how cruel midori can be, but the scene also spoke to me as a dissociative person; there is nothing more viscerally uncomfortable than learning about things you did as a different personality. it messes with your brain, because it was you, but it also wasn't you - it can't be you, you don't remember it, and it's not the kind of thing you would do, but you did - and so your dissociative rejection signals go absolutely insane. so i like this tiny scene for personal reasons.

and thatse it (i think). i think i said it all.

tl;dr:

this is my headcanon :33 or well. a graphic i made a few months ago as i was solidifying the headcanon. some minor things ive changed my opinion on / perception of since but it gets the idea across.

that said i fully support any other interpreted sou hiyori systems. go fuckin wild. i spoke to a friend a bit ago about their personal DID sou take and i had so much fun.

thank you for hearing me out

[ox1-lovesick]

✶ ─── TOMORROW X TOGETHER AND WHEN YOU LOOK MOST BEAUTIFUL TO THEM

pairing(s). txt x gn reader genre fluff warnings. none(?) wc. 100-200 each

type. headcannon , reaction

a/n. guess who wrote something *everyone applaud* please enjoy this I forced myself to write it because I haven't posted anything since queen elizabeth graduated high school 🥰

★ YEONJUN could already stare at you for hours on end — you always looked so effortlessly beautiful in his eyes, they can't help but wander back to take you in every now and then. You're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, but there's something different about you right now. About your furrowed eyebrows and small pout, about your fleeting gaze, stuck between your laptop screen and notebook as you read over the problem for the nth time hoping it will all magically make sense soon. You look outrageously adorable to him right now, laser focused on solving this equation of letters and numbers so you can move onto your next set of notes. He'd pull out a chair and sit next to you every time, resting his head against the palm of his hand as he watched while you busied yourself with whatever you needed to get done. Sometimes he'd sit and stare in silence, others he'd fondly brush the stray strands of hair away from your eyes so you don't have to, but every time without fail, his eyes would be trained on nothing but you.

★ SOOBIN loved taking care of his skin. It felt like a checkmark in his day, the last task at hand before he could melt into his bed and forget his worries until morning. He instantly felt lighter after taking all his make-up off and gently applying his moisturiser, but doing it with his favourite person makes just that much better. He especially loves when he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, leaving you to do it for him. Fingers gently tapping the products into skin with care, with the occasional kiss on his nose, but what he loves most of all is the sight of you, bare faced and sleepy. Some days he'd feign exhaustion just to stare into your eyes and hold your waist while you massage serum into his skin. He loves you no matter how you look of course, you're always beautiful to him. But being barefaced with each other is intimate, especially when he has to look his best everyday

★ BEOMGYU was never fearful about the sun exploding in 70 something million years, why would he be when he had the replacement right in his arms. Your smile was more than enough to sustain life and light up the solar system. His theory may not be scientifically correct, but in his eyes, it was simply the truth. What a heinous crime it is that you don't own multiple peace prizes for this sight alone—it never failed to make his heart beat out of his chest every time you graced him with its presence. He gets teased to no end by the guys for being horrendously down bad and staring at you with 'goo goo' eyes whenever your lips curl upwards, but how could he help himself? He's sick in the head, mind stuffed full of you and that pretty smile. It's his kryptonite, his one and only weakness, and no one knew it better than you after walking home hand in hand with your brand new jigglypuff plushie and -62837 won in Beomgyu's wallet.

★ TAEHYUN was so weak for things like this. Even under all those muscles he spends hours perfecting at the gym, he's rendered completely and utterly powerless. Weak for holding you closer, weak for pressing a kiss to your forehead, weak for you nuzzling your head further into his chest, weak for falling asleep with the person he adores more than anything next to him, safe and sound in his arms. He always fell asleep much later than you, because he has no self control and can't help but stare. Ever since he'd met you, he's become a morning person. Not because he enjoys starting his day early to be more productive (or to spend another 86 years in the gym) but because he gets to wake up like this. Your limbs tangled in each other, soft breaths against his neck, covered in the warmth of his duvet and comfort of each other. And if you'd allow him to, he'd spend every morning like this for the rest of his life, and die a happy man.

★ HUENINGKAI is a fan-favourite. And while his band mates make it well known who their favourite maknae is, for the sake of their feelings he tells them he loves them all equally, and keeps his favourite a secret. A secret from everyone but you, who just so happens to be said favourite. And his favourite sight on his favourite person? The face you made when he revealed his secret to you. The way your eyes widened, the knowing smile that crept its way onto your face, your nose scrunching in delight, if he could have that moment tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, he'd probably forget what the world looks like from having his eyes closed all the time. He loves this look on you, how excited you get when talking about the drama going on with your classmates or your masterplan to take over the world. Your eyes twinkling and hands flying all over the show because your emotions are just too strong to keep them confined. It might just be his favourite sight of all time, and while he's itching to screech about how adorable you are, he'll keep it his little secret for now

★ OX1-LOVESICK all rights reserved. do not copy, distribute, translate, alter or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[mimikyusrealform]

physics problem

Spencer Reid x Reader.

Word Count: 1,127.

Notes: S2 Spencer Reid, my beloved. I'm not a Physics student, though technically I use a lot of it in my career.

The world liked to demonize an ambitious, career-oriented woman. You were extremely proud of your mom, who achieved her undergrad in Physics when you were eight, despite having to take a five-year break because you were born. But then, at seven-years-old, you hadn't particularly enjoyed when she made you watch her recorded lectures and take notes for her. The fact you were capable of writing down fairly comprehensible notes at that age was remarkable, but it left you with a distaste for physics that you didn't grow out of until you were twenty-six.

If that growth could be attributed to anything, or anyone, you would be hard-pressed to admit that it was, lamentably, because of Dr. Spencer Reid. The fact you had an embarrassingly juvenile crush on your unit's resident genius had nothing to do with it. Rather, you would begrudgingly say that his enthusiasm was contagious. Terminal.

And while you were almost always down to hear him rambling and you were never inclined to interrupt him, it was hardly efficient to be listening to him while you worked in last case's property inventory. Sue you, but you never quite learned how to multitask.

He didn't seem to get the memo, though, still chatting with you from his desk, which was conveniently next to yours. “... so from 0.01 to 200 seconds after the Big Bang, the first hydrogen nuclei begin to form. And then large, large clouds of hydrogen and helium gas start to form as well, and they contract under the force of gravity. As the clouds become smaller and smaller, the energy generated from the contraction creates enough kinetic energy to overcome—”

“—Coulomb repulsion,” you said absentmindedly as you continued working—laptop, Apple iBook G4, transferred to Evidence Locker 23B—before you noticed he stopped talking.

You looked up, a minute frown already pulling at your eyebrows. “What?” you asked him.

He blinked slowly, like a cat, observing you as if you were a newly discovered specimen. A new earthworm specimen, no less. Unflattering.

“Uh, nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “It's just... yeah, that's what I was about to say. Coulomb repulsion, I mean. The repulsive force between like-charges. But, uh, I knew that. I didn't know—I didn't know that you knew.”

Oh. That's right. You never showed any indication that you knew of what he was talking about when he rambled on physics, and physics specifically. You did like to share and exchange knowledge on Anthropology—your undergrad—with him, and sometimes about other areas of study you happened to be a bit cognizant on, but never about physics, the bane of your young existence. Furthermore, you actively acted as if you did not know anything related to physics. Half because you liked it when he showered you with such earnest little lectures, and half because you didn't quite want him to know you were decently knowledgeable in that field.

“Uhhh,” you said dumbly, elongating the syllable. “Lucky guess.”

It was his time to frown. “That was not a lucky guess,” he said. “You clearly know about this topic. But—you never showed it before. Why?”

He was acting as if this was a great offense, you realized. As if he was defending you from being underestimated. But he was defending you from yourself. You didn't acknowledge the irregular palpitations of your heart; it was too shameful. You were twenty-six, dammit.

“Look, Doctor,” too affectionately, you were addressing him too affectionately, “it's not a big issue. I just... I mean, it never came up, okay? I just happen to know a bit about Coulomb and whatnot. No big deal.”

“No big deal,” he echoed. “Right, no big deal. Sorry for overreacting.”

You relaxed back into your seat, offered him a smile, and returned to work on your report. Some time after that, he called your name. You made a vague humming sound.

“Hey,” he said from his desk. “I always forget.” That should have been the first red flag, but you were too distracted to notice. “After you overcome Coulomb repulsion, what's the only way for an atom to lose energy?”

You didn't have to think for that, it came naturally. “To fuse with another atom. During nuclear fusion, the energy released counteracts the inward pull of gravity.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding far too amused. “I see. Thanks.”

“You're—” Wait. “Wait.”

“The verb to wait comes from Norman French, ultimately deriving from Proto-Germanic: wahtwijaną,” he supplied unhelpfully, all happy-go-lucky from his desk as he ‘read’ through a file.

“You—motherfucker,” you whispered. “You trickster. You cheater.”

“Says the woman who plays the dirtiest game of Blackjack known to man,” he was quick to quip back. “I can confidently say that you're the filthiest cheat I've ever met.”

“Dr. Counting Cards can not be talking,” you countered defensively.

“Then I guess we're even.” He was smiling in that stupidly boyishly charming way.

“No, we're not. No, we're not.” Yes, they were. “Morgan still plays cards with me. The same can not be said about you.”

Too fondly, he said, “That's because he hasn't realized you cheat.” He paused. Then, he added, “Just like I didn't realize you knew so much about physics.”

You sighed, leaning back into your seat. “It's not your fault,” you told him. Firmly. “I purposefully acted that way, as if I didn't know.”

He hesitated, “Are you—are you embarrassed of knowing?”

You shook your head. You knew what he was thinking, and it pained you. “No, not at all. I'm the opposite of embarrassed, why would I? But... I guess I don't have fond memories of physics. My mom used to make me write notes for her lectures when she was busy with her night work, but I hated it, I only wanted to play with my dolls. She used to say it was the only thing she ever asked of me, that I shouldn't be such an ungrateful kid. I guess it stuck with me. It somehow killed the magic of learning physics for me for many years.”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. You bit the inside of your cheek. You wondered if he was gonna try to comfort you, say something motivational. While you weren't opposed to the idea, he must know you hated those kinds of talks. Especially considering the environment they were in.

Finally, he said, “For the record, being good at physics is like being good at the second most popular sport in the world.”

That pulled a smile at your lips. “You don't know what you're talking about, do you?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Golf?”

You snorted, “Yeah, golf is the second most popular game in the world. If golf's the second, what's the first?”

“Chess, obviously,” he was smiling. You were, too.

“Obviously.”

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon

Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.

Word count: 3,169

———-

knock knock

“What?”

Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.

“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”

Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.

His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.

“Leon.”

He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

———

“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”

Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.

———

After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.

“Hello?”

Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.

“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”

Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.

“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”

Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.

“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”

Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.

“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”

She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.

“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”

The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.

————

The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.

“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”

Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.

“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”

You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.

“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”

He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.

“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”

His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.

“Leon Kennedy.”

Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.

“Just call me Y/N.”

You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.

“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”

Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.

Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up

“No cuts.”

He yelled out as he turned back to you.

—————-

Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.

Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.

———

“Action!”

Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.

“There you go, honey, relax for me..”

He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.

“Damn..”

He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.

“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”

Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.

“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”

Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.

“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”

He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.

“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”

Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.

“Cut!”

Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.

“You okay, sugar?”

He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.

“Yeah.. just was a lot.”

You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”

He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.

———-

You were the current talk of the industry.

Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.

Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.

“Morning.”

Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled

“Gonna win awards for that one.”

He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.

[caitwritesao3]

“Hey Jason?” Tim padded across the apartment laptop open in his hand. “What is this?”

Jason pulled the earbuds from his ears raising an eyebrow. “Hmm? What are you- oh that, nothing.” He barely glanced at the screen before going back to his book.

Tim plucked the book from his hands and replaced it with the laptop. Pointing at the webpage. “Jason, you have a Zillow account and all that’s on it is you harassing landlords about their prices.”

“Yeah! It’s fucking ridiculous! Have you seen this shit lately?” Jason sat up clicking on one of the listings. “Look, look two bed one bath in Otisburg. 800 square feet, no laundry. The kitchen is the size of a closet and this asshat is asking for nineteen hundred a month!”

Tim crossed his arms shrugging. Jason frowned, clicking another listing. “Studio in Old Gotham, 670 square feet, one window! Laundry in the bathroom, the kitchen doesn’t even have a stove it’s a fucking hot plate! Guess how much!”

Sighing, Tim dropped his hands to his hips. “I don’t know Jason… $500?”

Jason licked his lips, his brows lowering. “Say sike right now… god damn. No! Twenty two hundred! Twenty two hundred dollars a month Timothy!”

“I mean it’s Old Gotham so…” Tim mumbled watching Jason’s left eye twitch.

“Upper East Side, town house. Three bed two bath, basement laundry shared with the other unit. Street parking, which they're charging extra for by the way!” Jason pointed a finger at Tim. “Three thousand seven hundred and ten dollars a fucking month!”

Tim flopped down by Jason’s feet on the couch. “Jason, I don’t see why you’re so riled up about this. You can’t just go calling people ‘leach sucking cunts.’”

“The parking is an extra $200 a month per car!” Jason screeched slamming the laptop closed.

“All of Gotham has adequate public transportation. Not everyone needs a car.”

Jason gently placed the laptop on the coffee table. “Timmy, when was the last time you took a city bus or rode the fucking subway?”

Tim pouted half rolling his eyes. “Irrelevant Jason. You still can’t go around calling landlords names and threatening them.” Tim squealed as Jason wrapped a hand around his ankle and yanked him half into Jason’s lap.

Looming over him Jason nipped his lower lip. “You’ve been half hard since you walked in the room baby bird. Clearly you think it’s hot.”

A flush burned Tim’s cheeks, he tried to turn away but Jason’s hand shot up grabbing his face. Tim breathed heavily through his nose avoiding Jason’s eye contact however he could.

He let out a low moan feeling Jason’s tongue trace the scar at his throat. “Okay fine! Yes I did think it was hot!” Tim admitted tipping his head further back once Jason let go of his face. Instead focused on leaving a deep mark under his jaw.

Jason popped off of Tim’s skin loudly. “You’re such a fuckin’ freak. God I love you!”

Humming Tim rolled his hips up grinding his full hard on into Jason’s thigh. “The landlord from Burnley, you’re not actually gonna put hair remover in his shampoo and steal his cat are you?”

Jason paused, resting his chin on Tim’s chest batting his eyelashes innocently. Tim hooked a leg around Jason’s knee, sending them both to the floor. Tim rolling on top straddling Jason’s waist. “Jason Peter Todd.”

“If Damian happens to have a new pet it’s not my fault!” Jason let Tim pin his hands next to his head. Tim briefly closed his eyes growling. “You gonna punish me for it?”

Tim sat back contemplating with his hands moving to hold Jason’s belt. “I don’t want to because you’d like it too much… but I also love hearing you beg and cry for me.”

[xm4g1c-m1r4x]

Batfam + YN Incorrect Quotes #2

[Setting: Wayne Manor, breakfast time. Bruce is sipping coffee, barely awake, while chaos ensues.]

Jason: (bursting into the kitchen) I may have accidentally blown up the Batcycle.

Bruce: (not looking up) Why are you like this?

Dick: (from the table) Relax, Bruce. At least he didn’t set the kitchen on fire this time.

Bruce: (sighs) That was you, last Tuesday.

Dick: (nervous laugh) Fair point.

Tim: (walking in with bags under his eyes, holding his laptop) Did anyone see my fourth charger? I think Damian threw it in the pond.

Damian: (cutting his toast with perfect precision) You left it in my training area. It deserved to die.

(Y/N): (sitting next to Damian) Uh, Bruce? Hypothetically, if someone accidentally ordered 200 pizzas to the Manor, can we keep them?

Bruce: (finally looks up) What? Why—

(Y/N): (cutting him off) Hypothetically, of course.

Jason: (laughing) Oh, that was you? I thought I did that last night.

Bruce: (setting his coffee down, rubbing his temples) I am one bad day away from moving to the moon.

Alfred: (entering, completely calm) Master Wayne, I took the liberty of freezing 198 of those pizzas.

Bruce: (staring at Alfred) How do you tolerate this?

Alfred: (smiling) Decades of experience, sir.

(Y/N): (leaning over to Damian) Okay, so do you think he’d notice if I adopted a raccoon and kept it in my room?

Damian: (serious) Only if you don’t share.

Bruce: (glaring at both of you) No raccoons. No more pizzas. And no more explosions!

Jason: (mocking) Sure, Dad.

Dick: (grinning) Love you, Dad.

Tim: Thanks, Dad.

Damian: …Father.

(Y/N): (cheerfully) You’re the best, Papa Bats!

Bruce: (head in hands) I need stronger coffee.